All the Bunco Ladies ...

One Thursday night a month, a group of twelve women (and usually a few extra women who are filling in as subs) get together to play Bunco. All of us love our chocolate ... love talking about our families ... and love not having to think through a strategy (or even really have to think!) as we throw the dice. Some evenings, it's a rowdy and loud evening, particularly when there are quite a few Buncos! There's hollering and the throwing of a green monkey (yes, it's true. We throw small animals) and loud laments about never winning. There's talk of ditties and "What number are we on?" or "Who's keeping score?" On other nights, it can be fairly subdued. No one seems to really be winning ... no one seems to really be losing ... and everyone else is just consistently winning AND losing.  But, the food is good, the fellowship is great, and I've never been where I haven't thoroughly enjoyed myself. By 9:00, most of us are yawning and looking at our watches (or cell phones), commenting that it's getting close to our bedtime. We either have to work bright and early in the morning ... or we're just plain getting old -- we haven't really stopped to figure out which.

We all met through our church. Some of these women, I've known for more than 25 years ... others, maybe closer to 15. We've had babies together and talked about nursing and diapers. We attended MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) and enjoyed getting out of the house, away from Sesame Street and Legos, and actually experiencing adult conversation. Some of us had children attend the same school and we went on field trips and supervised elementary class parties. Others of us homeschooled together and attended the annual homeschool convention to purchase educational supplies for the upcoming year. Our kids participated in youth group together ... played sports together ... went on retreats (sometimes with a few of us moms as adult sponsors) ... and some of our kids even got grounded together (ahhh! The memories!). Some of us have gone on family vacations together or on double dates.  We've gone to weddings of our children and held each other's grandbabies. And, if we haven't gotten to actually meet those grandbabies, we've definitely seen pictures!! As we've gotten older, our conversations have turned to chin hairs, menopause, hot flashes, and weight control. We'll discuss mammograms, colonoscopies, and which cereal has the most fiber. Over the years we've rejoiced with each other ... cried with each other ... prayed for each other ... seen tragedy ... witnessed triumph ... and still we continue.

Why? Because we're more than just the Bunco ladies. We're part of a family -- God's family. There's a bond that goes deeper than just throwing dice and eating chocolate. We might come from different backgrounds or states ... we might look totally different ... we might be in different income brackets ... we might be a "new person" coming in, or a substitute who isn't there that regularly ... but ultimately, we're the same. We're bound together in Christ, learning and growing as we love each other, love our families, and love our Lord. And THAT is priceless!!


Some of our Bunco Ladies ... and a few subs! :o)



Mouse Traps in the Dishwasher

I've always known that men and women are different. I'm pretty smart that way. And they're NOT just different for obvious physical reasons. But they were just flat put together differently. The way they walk, talk, look -- all different. Nothing, though, tops  how far apart they are as in their thought process. For a long time, I thought it was just my husband who was different. Poor Wes. I misunderstood for years. Little did I know that it was the entire male species who thought just like my husband did.

This was brought very plainly in to light this morning at our house. I'll give you the background ... and then let you see just exactly what I'm talking about. We had been noticing tell-tale signs that we were having a "minor" mouse problem. To my husband, it was minor. To me, it was a major catastrophe. The SIGNS were even major, as far as I was concerned: a wrapped granola bar that had been gnawed in to ... mouse poopies on the pantry shelf and floor. (Ugh! I shudder now even thinking of it!) We reacted a little differently to the signs. Wes just got a whisk broom and swept up the debris -- I cleared the shelf, disinfected it, mopped and disinfected the floor, and worried about getting the bubonic plague. Then Wes, being the great hunter and protector that he is, bought a couple of mouse traps, filled it with peanut butter (we hear mice like that better than cheese), and set them out for the unsuspecting rodents who were mooching our food and pooping in our pantry.

Wes discovered a dead mouse this morning, but didn't tell me. He just cleared out the trap, and took care of it. A little later, I was nervously checking to see if we had gotten a mouse ... and one of the mouse traps was gone. My fearful mind imagined a 25-pound mouse who had eaten the peanut butter and then dragged the trap off ... or even worse, eaten the whole trap. Then, I checked the other trap, and there was a poor, little, mangled mouse lying dead on our pantry shelf. (Why I always feel sorry for the mice after we catch and kill them, I'll never quite understand ... but I do.) I did what any self-respecting woman would do. I began screaming, jumping up and down, and hollering for our youngest son to come save me from the dastardly creature ... and then went to the other part of the house so I didn't have to see the whole cleaning-up process. From the back part of the house, I was shouting out instructions: "Put the body in a bag! Throw the whole trap away! Don't bring it for me to see!" I'm very brave from a distance. Anyway, our wonderful son took care of it all, and I sent a text to my husband, telling him that we caught a mouse.

He came home a little later to get some work supplies, and casually mentioned that it was the second mouse we had caught today.Well, that's good news, I guess. We're killing off an entire mouse family one by one. He also casually mentioned that the first mouse trap had been rinsed ... and (get this!!) put in our dishwasher to be cleaned. I had to write those letters in bold for emphasis. And even as I write them, I am still astounded at how I feel hearing it all over again. A mouse trap, that had killed a mouse, that held the disease-ridden body of a mouse, was in our dishwasher ... with our dishes ... and silverware ... and glasses. I was stunned. I was shocked. I was totally grossed out. I remember vaguely saying something about how maybe the plague in England in the 1600s would have been averted if people had just rinsed off the nasty mice cooties. I threw such a fit that Wes removed the dirty little trap from the dishwasher. He couldn't understand my hysterics. "I rinsed it off." Our son, being a man, was in the same thought zone as his father. "Yeah, Mom. He did rinse it off." Excuse my mistake. Since you couldn't see the blood anymore and water had been run over it, it was apparently just fine. Even now, neither of the men in my family can understand my complete melt-down about the obviously cleaned-off mousetrap in the dishwasher. Ewwww! (By the way, I've been googling about how to disinfect the entire inside surface of my dishwasher.)

Actually, now that I've calmed down and I don't feel like throwing up anymore, I can see the humor in all of this -- almost. The thing that is the funniest is just exactly what polar opposites we are. And God put us together! That's probably the craziest part. You have a man, who thinks a certain way, with a woman, who thinks a completely different way, and put them together to live happily ever after. We've learned that in order for there to be a happily ever after, you have to accept that your partner is YOUR perfect gift from God (intended just for YOU) and is just different than you -- not necessarily wrong -- just different. We NEED that difference. That's how a marriage grows and is strengthened. God, in His infinite wisdom, pulled Wes and Diana together -- two totally unique individuals, and put them together. Together, we make one fantastic person! I'm sure Wes thinks I'm a hysterical, dramatic female (and he'd be right after this morning!). But he's accepted that my thought process is different than his, and he loves me anyway ... just like I've come to the same conclusion about him. It's all a process anyway -- life, marriage, kids -- and we're learning each step of the way. Fortunately, those lessons are sometimes a little less painful (not for mice) and a little more humorous (for us)!

This has been a fun post, but you'll have to excuse me now though. I've got a dishwasher to disinfect.