Wesley House Youth Programs

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Wesley House Beginnings

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On a Roll with Charmin - Kids do the darnest things

I live on a farm in Tennessee and this little snippet is about our newest family members this year, three new kids. Goat kids, not children. I love to watch the little ones bounce and play.  I hope you enjoy this video, it's short and sweet.

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On a Roll with Charmin - At Gallery Nuance

 Check out this video on YouTube: it's me, at Gallery Nuance face painting. Thank you Sherry Disney!



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 reading.

Charmin talks about Quadriciser

Quadriciser Corporation, is located on Central Avenue Pike, Knoxville, Tennessee.
The owner Larry Bohanan’s diabetic father was seven days away from losing his foot when he created the Quadriciser to increase blood flow, it worked and the Quadriciser is now Larry's passion in business. To find out more, visit www.quadriciser.com.

Thanks for reading.

Video killed the blog… Or did it?

PHOTO FROM:http://www.freemake.com/blog/top-5-iphone-video-editors-for-movie-producing/

You know that old song, Video Killed the Radio Star? Has video killed the blog? Have we become such a visual society that the written word is no longer relevant? I have mixed emotions.

This discussion came about recently, when a friend and I were talking blogs. She told me that when she read my blog, she could actually see me in her head, talking. I understand that, I do it with books all the time, as the author brings the characters to life in my mind.

She suggested that I should consider adding a video component to my blog, so people could see what she sees. It seems she thinks I’m a pretty entertaining in person.  While I don’t know if that’s necessarily true, I get her point.

From what I know of my biological father, his side of the family had a strong Italian heritage. Talking with your hands is a part of that tradition. Combine my DNA with my love of theatre and you get a very animated personality. My husband tells me all the time; I should have been a cartoon, or a Muppet.

But who wants to see me talking to them on a screen? That part I have a hard time wrapping my head around. A business coach suggested I map out a plan and put a few together and see how it goes. Intersperse it with written blog posts so it doesn’t have to be all me, all the time.

That made me feel better, video doesn’t have to kill my written blog completely. So who know’s the next time you see my blog it may be a vlog.

I am weighing the options, considering the possibilities, and there are many. I love video editing and production, so I can see it merging all my loves into one venue.  My vision incorporates a variety of aspects to it, including writing, photos and video, interviews, etc.

I would like your opinions on video blogs or vlogging, so feel free to post a comment.

Thanks for reading.

The Gummy Bear "Cleanse"

I have been on a low-carb diet for a few years now and I love it when I find a new product that fits into my lifestyle. I thought I had found just that product this weekend when I bought sugar-free gummy bears. Low-carb, sweet, perfect for movie night. Or so I thought, until the next day. Let's just say I will NEVER touch another sugar-free gummy bear as long as I live.

I only wish I had seen the following Amazon review, BEFORE I made my movie night selection. All I can say is this review is dead-on. Please let this be a warning to any consumer.

POSTED REVIEW ON AMAZON

40,637 of 41,263 people found the following review helpful

 Just don't. Unless it's a gift for someone you hate., October 3, 2012

By

Christine E. Torok

Verified Purchase(What's this?)

This review is from: Haribo Gummi Bears Sugar Free 5lb Bag (Grocery)

Oh man...words cannot express what happened to me after eating these. The Gummi Bear "Cleanse". If you are someone that can tolerate the sugar substitute, enjoy. If you are like the dozens of people that tried my order, RUN!

First of all, for taste I would rate these a 5. So good. Soft, true-to-taste fruit flavors like the sugar variety...I was a happy camper.

BUT (or should I say BUTT), not long after eating about 20 of these all hell broke loose. I had a gastrointestinal experience like nothing I've ever imagined. Cramps, sweating, bloating beyond my worst nightmare. I've had food poisoning from some bad shellfish and that was almost like a skip in the park compared to what was going on inside me.

Then came the, uh, flatulence. Heavens to Murgatroyd, the sounds, like trumpets calling the demons back to Hell...the stench, like 1,000 rotten corpses vomited. I couldn't stand to stay in one room for fear of succumbing to my own odors.

But wait; there's more. What came out of me felt like someone tried to funnel Niagara Falls through a coffee straw. I swear my sphincters were screaming. It felt like my delicate starfish was a gaping maw projectile vomiting a torrential flood of toxic waste. 100% liquid. Flammable liquid. NAPALM. It was actually a bit humorous (for a nanosecond)as it was just beyond anything I could imagine possible.

AND IT WENT ON FOR HOURS.

I felt violated when it was over, which I think might have been sometime in the early morning of the next day. There was stuff coming out of me that I ate at my wedding in 2005.

I had FIVE POUNDS of these innocent-looking delicious-tasting HELLBEARS so I told a friend about what happened to me, thinking it HAD to be some type of sensitivity I had to the sugar substitute, and in spite of my warnings and graphic descriptions, she decided to take her chances and take them off my hands.

Silly woman. All of the same for her, and a phone call from her while on the toilet (because you kinda end up living in the bathroom for a spell) telling me she really wished she would have listened. I think she was crying.

Her sister was skeptical and suspected that we were exaggerating. She took them to work, since there was still 99% of a 5 pound bag left. She works for a construction company, where there are builders, roofers, house painters, landscapers, etc. Lots of people who generally have limited access to toilets on a given day. I can't imagine where all of those poor men (and women) pooped that day. I keep envisioning men on roofs, crossing their legs and trying to decide if they can make it down the ladder, or if they should just jump.

If you order these, best of luck to you. And please, don't post a video review during the aftershocks.

PS: When I ordered these, the warnings and disclaimers and legalese were NOT posted. I'm not a moron. Also, not sure why so many people assume I'm a man. I am a woman. We poop too. Of course, our poop sparkles and smells like a walk in a meadow of wildflowers. Thanks for all the great comments. I've been enjoying reading them and so glad that the horror show I experienced from snacking on these has at least made some people smile.

Sure, they look innocent, but are they? That grin looks a little evil.

Made my hometown paper

Motivational Stepping Stones

Stepping stone photo courtesy of Microsoft Clipart

Stepping stones keep you out of the mire and the muck. They lift you up and give you direction. 

I have used events in my life as motivational stepping stones to give my life direction and keep me out things that could otherwise muck things up.

I love to learn new things. I have always been the type of person that sees something of interest in everything. I often see things, and think I could do that. If offered the opportunity, I would try, just to see if I could accomplish the task. 

My success rate has varied in degrees between great success and failing miserably. Yet, even when I failed, I learned something new, something about myself I didn't know before. Each success and each failure I used as a motivational stepping stone to guide my next step. 

Does that mean I do everything well? Definitely not, but hopefully by gaining new knowledge about myself and the world around me I gain an appreciation for those who can do things I can't. That appreciation helps me build great relationships with people who have different talents. In life you need people who can do the jobs you can't. 

You have heard the phrase, "No man is an island." That is very true.

For example, I know I will never be an accountant. Numbers hate me. I could however, become a ceramic tile layer. While numbers may hate me, angles love me. In my mind, accounting tends to be more statistical, numbers in rows and rows, while the geometry of measurements and angles are alive, more relational. I love relationships. You would think, math is math, but it's very different. 

If I had listened to those who said, you've never done that, or you can't do that, I would have missed out on learning a very satisfying hobby. By the same token, I know I have to be very careful when I balance my checkbook. Lucky for me, I have a relationship with someone who is great with numbers to help me. Just because you have learned how to do a task, does not mean it comes easy to you, or it is something you should pursue. But now I know that is a direction I don't want to go.

Sometimes the events placed in your path change your direction. Many people would allow that change to stop them, but I propose that you use your negative to create a positive. Sometimes negative motivation can lead you in a positive direction.

You would think, as someone who loves to learn new things, I would have attended a multitude of accredited colleges or universities. Alas, I have not. I have an ongoing education in LIFE. I have to say, I'm a survivor and I'm very proud of that.

When I was 19, life crashed in and I had no choice but to learn how to take care of myself. I was in design school, with a promising future ahead and a new husband. Life was perfect until he became very ill. 

As a new wife, I did what needed to be done, I left school and spent the next year with my husband in and out of the hospital as he fought severe complications from juvenile diabetes. Just before my 20th birthday, the unthinkable happened, he passed away. 

On my own, I had to work just to survive and keep a roof above my head, a car to drive, basic survival; there was no time to go back to school. I had BILLS. 

There were so many people in my life, telling me I would never get a job that amounted to anything because I didn't finish school. If I had listened to them, I'd still be at Burger Queen today. 

As it turned out, I kept applying and my persistence and talent got me in the door to my first design job at age 20, before most of my peers were even out of school. I worked diligently to learn everything I could about the business I was in. That is a habit I have retained even now. 

My philosophy, and it's served me very well, never be afraid to try something above your pay grade. My first "real" design job was is screen printing. I designed wearable art for colleges all across the US. I was very good at my job, I took instruction well, paid attention to the details and had a way with customers. My art director saw something in me and encouraged it, he relied on me to get things done and help in areas he where he was overwhelmed. 

Because I was able to bridge a gap between creative and sales/customer service our parent company in Nashville promoted me to train other artists in screen printing techniques and be a liaison between the sales staff and the art department. I was also offered the opportunity to learn computer graphics, which I immediately jumped on. 

My desire to learn served as a stepping stone to my first promotion, and my next, and then to my next position and my next.

Every job I have ever had was there to teach me something valuable. Never discount experience, good or bad. Good shows you are making progress, bad teaches you to go in another direction. Each job offers opportunities to learn great things and expand your skill set. 

My point is, by being willing to try something new, I gained potential for greater things. A motivational stepping stone, that launched me into my next career phase. I'm not knocking a good degree, I believe education is very important, but sometimes experience and willingness speak volumes more. 

Never let anyone knock you down because of education, or lack of it. The world is a very diverse place, don't limit yourself to negative view of it.

There are employers out there who think outside of the box and are willing to see the potential in others. Don't be afraid to try for something better. When an opportunity arises, work hard and show your capacity and willingness to learn and excel. A good work ethic can be priceless in business.

Look for those motivational stepping stones, step out and learn something new. Who knows, you might find a gift you never knew you had.

What's Your Type? Personality, That Is...

Photo courtesy of Microsoft Clipart

In a recent Bible study we did a short quiz to find out what our spiritual gifts were. My gift was encouragement or in Biblical terms exhortation. I lift people up, emotionally not physically. Physically, I'm a marshmallow.
Since I had been a Sunday school teacher in the youth department for years, I was surprised by this bit of news. I was sure my gift was teaching, and in some ways it is. After some reflection I could see how encouragement had worked within my teaching roles and it began to make sense.

It always amazes me how my day to day life plays into my spiritual studies. At the same time as this spiritual gifts test, a leadership class I am taking suggested doing a personality test. The test was to shine a light on what type of leadership qualities you have and utilize.

I found it very interesting that my personality test said I was a teacher. See, I knew I had some teacher qualities. I had forgotten that I had taken this same test, at least 12 years ago in an Army Family Team Building course. The course taught life skills to military spouses, and as it turned out, I ended up teaching some of those classes. At any rate I found it very encouraging that after so many years my results were the same.

For the most part, the analysis on both tests were pretty spot on. There are a few behaviors that I have learned over the years. Which in itself is encouraging. You can take a negative and improve upon it. One of my personality traits in the testing showed that my personality type takes criticism very personally, and to some extent it is true.

Honestly, no one likes criticism, but it's a tool you use to learn and grow. I had to learn that, because it is not my nature. As graphic designer for 25 years, I had to take criticism and build on it. It was part of the job. If a customer didn't like your concept, you had to adapt to what the customer wanted, otherwise you didn't work.

Some of my other traits made me very sought after, no matter what job I was doing. I am very intuitive. I can see what people want, that helped make me a good designer, it also helped me in my editor role, as I chose stories people wanted to read. I am also a good communicator so that made working with people very easy.

According to one website only 3% of the population have this personality type. I find that very hard to believe, but I've always been different. Maybe this explains why. :)

If you know me, I am curious to see if you think I fit my evaluations. If you don't know me, are you curious to find out what your type is? After the information about exhortation and my ENFJ personality type are links to the tests.

Exhortation (more Spiritual Gifts) as defined by assessme.org:

The gift of Exhortation is the special ability to counsel or challenge others toward a healthy relationship with Jesus Christ. Often, the gift of Exhortation is utilized to motivate the Church in general or a Christ Follower in particular, to make God-honoring choices. If sensitivity and tact is not properly developed, the person gifted with Exhortation may not immediately be appreciated. The gift of Exhortation is somewhat similar to the role of the Old Testament prophets in challenging God’s people to remain faithful. While the prophets were not immediately valued, and often persecuted, their service was indispensable to the spiritual health and vitality of the biblical faith community.

People who possess the gift of Exhortation will not avoid conflict. It is not that they love conflict. In fact, everything inside them may hate conflict. People with the gift of Exhortation feel a deep responsibility before God to challenge and encourage those that may be taking a path that does not honor the Lord, to correct their misguided choices. In Acts 14:22, the Apostle Paul consistently serves to “strengthen the disciples and to encourage them to remain true to the faith”. 

According to the Personality Desk website these are the characteristics of the ENFJ personality type at work:

At work, the ENFJ is motivated to organize others to implement positive change. ENFJs are enthusiastic problem-solvers, especially when they can put their strong intuition about people to good use.

ENFJs strive for cooperation and work best in a harmonious environment where they can support other people and encourage their growth. They often take on a mentor role, seeing their primary aim as helping other people become better at what they do.

ENFJs are often attracted to leadership roles; they naturally organize people to take advantage of their unique talents. They often have a strong vision in their work, and enjoy being able to use their creativity to develop innovative initiatives with a humanitarian focus. 

ENFJs appreciate teamwork, and they want to have the organizational resources to put their ideas into action.

The ideal work environment for an ENFJ is forward-thinking and people-centered, with a clear humanitarian mission and an emphasis on constructive action. The ideal job for an ENFJ allows them to develop and implement ideas that improve the circumstances and well-being of other people.

Popular Careers for the ENFJ

Top careers for the ENFJ include:

Journalist Interpreter Editor Minister Elementary Teacher

Event Coordinator Public Relations Manager HR Manager or Recruiter Corporate Trainer Public Relations Specialist

Social Worker Physical Therapist Speech Pathologist Nutritionist Clinical Psychologist

Here are some links to see how you rate.

Spiritual Gifts Test:
http://www.churchgrowth.org/cgi-cg/gifts.cgi?intro=1
(this test is a little more in depth than the one I took in my Bible study but my results were the same.)


Take the free personality test

I look forward to hearing your feedback. Let me know what you think.

The Wedding That Didn't Happen

Gary rockin' in his room, trying to look tough.

I am going to delve into my past and tell you a very well-kept secret. I don’t know that I have ever shared this story with anyone. A few of my high school friends and family may know about it but it hasn't been spoken of since 1983.

I have been married more than once, and the first time I was very young, seventeen to be exact. Many say that is too young. In most cases, they would be right. But not this time, even knowing what I know now, I wouldn't have traded that experience for all the riches of the world.

In 1982, dressed in flash dance fashion, I met a guy. I'd seen him around, he was friends with a friend of mine. I'd had a crush on him since I was a freshman. He didn't know I was alive, or so I thought, until one night outside of a convenience store, three years later. I was acting out and being stupid, I was finally a senior and had no idea what the future held for me.

Blond and bouncy, he was full of life and energy; he wanted to be a rock star and played a sweet vintage Gibson Les Paul guitar. He was unlike anyone I had dated. He wanted to be wild, but he was too good for the wild life. It was love at first sight and he changed my life forever.

As with most teenage love stories, we were instantly inseparable. He was like oxygen and if he wasn't near I couldn't breathe.

Being your typical teenager, I had to push the limits, one night in March, I broke my 10:30 p.m. curfew. Yes, that’s right, 10:30 p.m., not 11, not midnight, 10:30 (and kids now think they have it rough). My mom, in true parental fashion, deemed my punishment was no phone, no outside contact. I was only allowed to go to church and school (which was right across the street from my house and the family business), for 6 months!

I thought my world had ended. As any warden would do, my mom allowed me one last phone call. In that phone call, two young lovebirds began to hatch a plan. Gary and I would see each other at church, but since he had been a senior when I was a freshman, that would be our only contact. I couldn't wait to go to church on Wednesday and Sunday.

During Bible class and service Gary and I sat together and whispered or passed notes. In a Bible study on a note passed between us, he asked me to marry him. I couldn't react; I could only nod my head and sniffle to keep from crying. I was thrilled, and that made the punishment seem all the more unbearable.

I knew my mom would never let me get married, I was seventeen. I had already been accepted at the Art Institute and we were planning a bright future. I didn't see why marriage had to put an end to that. I knew Gary was meant to be in my life. There seemed to be such a feeling of urgency about it and I knew that if I went away to college alone, Gary and I would never be together. To the very core of my being I knew I had to do this. Now I know it was God winking at me, but then, I prayed and I cried and Gary and I covertly began planning an elopement.

Gary told his sister Tracy of our plight and this is where the story gets interesting…

From the moment I met Tracy I felt at ease with her, I could tell her anything and she would understand. I think Gary and I spent more time at her house than we did anywhere else. Tracy married her high school sweetheart Tim at around the same age. She understood the sway of young love and believed in its power. To this day, I believe she felt the same sense of urgency I did. She was always in Gary's corner, and would do anything for him.

After Gary’s proposal, we began to skip church services and go to Tracy’s to plan our elopement. I know, it sounds so bad to say it, but it was a little easier than trying to skip school. At the time my mom didn't go to church with me. (I’m not advocating skipping school or church at all, I’m just saying, I’m not perfect.)

Tracy was instrumental in helping us concoct a plan to run away together. She was a great planner, too. She told us how we could go across the border to Jellico, Tennessee and get married; we just needed copies of our birth certificates and to get a blood test.

We put the plan in motion. She and Gary took the day off from work and I skipped school. Let me tell you, skipping school when you live right across the street is no small feat!

Tracy helping me with my garter.
Little did they know this was the
2nd wedding we had planned.

Tracy drove because we were so nervous. We got our blood test, (back then you had to do that) and we headed to the courthouse. Well because I was underage, and Tracy couldn't pass as my guardian, the covert operation failed.

We were all devastated. I had to go home as if I had come from school and act as if nothing had happened, but I couldn't stop crying.

As soon as I got home I went to my room and closed my door. My mom came to see what was the matter and when I couldn't quit crying I had to tell her what had happened. I was scared to death, but I figured the punishment couldn't have been much worse than what I was feeling already.

I told her how I felt and the way I felt without him. We talked for a long time. I told her about the proposal the sense of need I felt. There were lots of questions. With every answer, she could see my resolve. I assured her that I would still attend art school and that I was certain of my feelings. Then, I took a deep breath and then I told her what we had tried to do that day.

She was shocked speechless for a few minutes. As I sat there in the silence, I prayed she wouldn't kill me. Amazingly, she was much more understanding than I would have ever imagined. She told me if I finished high school and stayed on task for art school that she would give me her blessing and we could start planning a wedding in July.

I was so thankful that God had made a way where I saw no way and had given me this opportunity. My first call was to Gary, but my next call was to Tracy to ask her to be my Matron of Honor.

Through it all, Tracy gave me the courage to stand up and fight for what I believed in, to step out on faith and I will be forever thankful. Gary and I were married on July 16th, 1983. We were only married for two years and eleven days before God called him home. Our time here may have been short but it was priceless.

Gary and Tracy taught me to be strong, stronger than I ever realized I could be. Gary died 27 years ago. This year he and much of his family welcomed Tracy at the gates of heaven.

The Hatchet Lady

Picture of a hatchet: Microsoft Clipart

Running a business can be full of life lessons. Shortly after I became the managing editor of the Knoxville Focus Newspaper, I learned a very valuable lesson. A great team is worth more than gold, and that one bad apple, can spoil the whole basket.

It was a hard lesson to learn, but it has served me well over the years. I had been in management roles before, but I was never in control of who to hire and who to fire. This was my first foray into that aspect of Human Resources. I inherited a good team and everything went great for a while; but as we grew and things changed, people left for one reason or another and I found myself needing to replace team members.

After a long time employee left the front desk position, I had to begin the search for someone to fill that very important position. The person had to be good with people, able to multitask, take classified ads, invoice customers, do collections and work with route carriers, all with a pleasant attitude.

After going through countless resumes, I thought I had found the perfect candidate. On paper she had the skills, her background came back clean, she interviewed wonderfully. I thought I had found the missing piece of the puzzle.

Sometimes, what seems to be, and what actually are, can be very different things. After training was complete and a few months of settling into the position, she became comfortable, too comfortable. The nice portion of her facade began to crack away and something witchy, this way came.

At first I tried to be tactful and ask if there was a problem, then I tried to counsel, finally a write up. Other members of my team were complaining about invoices and tearsheets going to the wrong people, messages not getting to them and worse, leads not getting to them. The writing was on the wall, I was going to have to lower the ax.

It was just after Thanksgiving, and being the nice person I am, I felt that if I could just hold off until after the holidays it wouldn't be so hard on the lady. I mean who wants to get fired at Christmas?

It just wasn't meant to be. After walking in the office and hearing a very loud, rude conversation with a customer, I fired her on the spot and escorted her from the building. I felt horrible. I was Ebeneezer Scrooge!

Thankfully, the rest of my team breathed a collective sigh of relief and rallied around me. It was then, that I knew I had done the right thing for the business and the team.

It wasn't until Christmas week that I knew how deeply this bad apple had actually effected everyone else.I believe in open and honest communication, so I encouraged dialog. I needed to know where I had gone wrong. Things came to light that no one wanted to talk about before, I learned a few things. we cleared the air and started fresh.

Christmas eve, my sales manager walked into my office with a gift from her and her husband. She snickered as she handed me the box. She had an air of childish mischief about her and I knew it couldn't be good. Much to my surprise, I opened the box to find a gleaming hatchet with a huge red bow on it. Seems she had told her husband about it all and he figured that if I was going to have to give people the ax, I needed the proper equipment.

I laughed so hard I cried.

Then I hung it on the wall above my desk.

For my next 4 years at the paper, everyone I interviewed had sit across the desk from me and look at that hatchet adorned with a big red bow.

It was a constant reminder to me that sometimes you have to do the hard things, prune the deadwood from an organization, for the good of the whole vine, too keep things growing and going in the right direction.

When a prospective employee would eventually look up on the wall, I could literally see the question forming. "Why do you have a hatchet with a big red bow hanging on your wall?"

I would smile and say with a giggle, "I'm the hatchet lady." Then in the way of explanation I told them something along the lines of, "With business management comes responsibility, and if a person's actions harm the business the team is trying to grow, they have to be cut, regardless of the season."

They either got the symbolism in the conversation or they left thinking I was an ax murder. Since things went really smooth after that, I'd like to think they got the symbolism.

I'm way too nice to be an ax murder, I'm just the hatchet lady.


Sidebar: For those of you who don't know me. I'm harmless, really, with a nerdy sense of humor. Honest. :)

The Deviled Egg Debacle of 2011

By Charmin Foth

For those of you who know me, housewifery is not my strong suit.

Don't get me wrong, I can clean and do laundry with the best of them, but when it comes to all things kitchen, it's scary. I'm not saying I can't cook. I can, and generally the things I make are edible, even tasty. I would say I'm better at baking, but that's not entirely true either. And sharp objects, don't even get me started. They banned me from the kitchen of the church where I used to attend, because of a little accident cutting apples at a church sleepover. Let's just say, life with me is never boring.

The church where we attend was having a church picnic and someone suggested that I make deviled eggs. Since we have chickens and usually an abundance of eggs, I thought, "cool, I can do that, no problem." Ha, I should have known better.

My wonderful hubby, helped me out by boiling the eggs and putting them in the fridge for me. That way I could make the deviled eggs at my convenience after I got home from work. (I really think he is afraid for me to use the stove.)

Well, after a day of crazy work and errands, I open the door and see the pesky boiled eggs staring at me when I open the refrigerator door. So I sigh, and set myself about the task of making deviled eggs. I get all my ingredients out, a mixing bowl, a big wooden spoon and then I spy a long forgotten gadget hiding in the drawer with the mixer, my cookie gun. Yes, I said, cookie gun.

I thought, "Oh! That will make fancy work of these eggs, I'll be done in no time." Ha, again.

I prep the eggs, mix all the ingredients and I'm ready to fill the cookie gun with the yummy egg filling. There are several different options for how I want the mix to fill the eggs. there is an attachment for making Christmas tree cookies, stars and all sorts of cookie shapes and then there are attachments for cake decorating, like rose petals and ribbons and such. So I thought, "Hmmm, egg filling is kind of thick so lets go with the one that has a wide star shaped opening."

 Sounds easy enough, so I set it up, and load the egg filling into the gun. Here's where it gets interesting...
The first few eggs looked beautiful, and then nothing so I keep pressing the trigger on the gun. Rapid fire, is never a good idea.

Before I knew it, so much pressure had built up in the cookie gun, that it exploded deviled egg filling across the kitchen counter top and it ricocheted all over me. I was covered in deviled eggs. I looked like I had been spackling a very colored ugly room.

Not all of the egg concoction fit into the gun, I still had enough to fill the eggs I had, so I thought, "all is not lost, I can still make this work." So I wiped the egg off the counter and me. For some reason, I still thought the cookie gun was a good idea. All I can say, looking back, is duh. Anyway, I changed the decorating tip on the cookie gun to different tip, thinking the star pattern was the problem.

It wasn't. The problem is that pickle relish gets stuck in the little prongs of the decorating tips and causes a huge back up in the gun. And it has serious repercussions to the one wielding the weapon. I don't know if I will ever get all the egg out of my spiky hair. It is now brown, silver and yolk colored.

Ah, but alas, I am not one to give up. I must have a persistence gene that just won't allow me to give up on things. I think it has plagued me all of my life, now that I think about it. At any rate, I still had egg goo left and I was determined I was going to get the gun to work or die trying.

I did get the gun to work. I took the decorator tip off all together and it worked like a charm, and I had just enough egg filling left to fill all the eggs. However, there was a drawback to this methodology, without the pretty decorator edges, my eggs looked like little yellow piles of dog poop. Yumm! How appetizing is that?!

So I'm home all alone, looking at these eggs, and laughing my butt off. I have truly lost it. I can't serve dog poop eggs to the people at church, or can I? Hummmm. So I got a little spoon and smashed all the little piles down and swirled them around and covered them with paprika. Maybe, maybe not, I can't decide, take them don't take them? I'm the only one who knows they looked like dog poop for a short time in their lives. Andy may get to eat a lot of deviled eggs, and then he's going to have to sleep in the barn.

The moral of the story is, use a spoon, unless you are authorized to use the gun.


Thanks for reading.

This Roller Coaster Life...

Well, I must apologize for being slack in my blogging for the past few months. The only excuse I can give is life. It seems that lately I have had an over abundance of life coming at me from all directions. I know I am not the only person in the world that feels this way. But sometimes don't you just want to scream, "hey, slow this planet down, I want to get off now." As if life were a ride at an amusement park, and you had too much funnel cake for your own good.

This week life has been just like that. A roller coaster of ups and downs so severe they take your breath away and knock you back in your seat. My work life is always hectic, but when our office manager quit, work became more intense. Don't get me wrong, I love my job, I am a public relations and marketing manager for a manufacturer of specialized therapy equipment for people with mobility issues. It is an amazing piece of technology called the Quadriciser Motorized Therapy System. My job is multi-faceted, I get to travel and meet some truly amazing people in my work, I get the opportunity to be creative and steer our marketing into the 21st century, but when you work for a small company, you wear many hats and sometimes it can be overwhelming.

If work were the only part of my struggle, there would be some stress but I could deal with it. I was a military wife for years, and as long as no one is shooting at my husband, I've always felt I could roll with just about anything. So work stress would be the kiddie version of the roller coaster. It looks intimidating when you 5, not when your 8. Do you know what I mean?

But then, you add the stress of an aging mother, (who I love greatly, but is as stubborn as the day is long, and no matter how you explain it, she still won't take the medication she is suppose to, like it's prescribed), the stress of your own health scare and a need to get healthy before things get out of control, the stress of a leaky roof, (that will have to be completely replaced), a lawn mower that decided it wanted to be separated from its gas tank, so it just fell apart, (and we really need a tractor to cut the grass on a farm not a mower) and as of tonight, a refrigerator that just went kaput, all those things in very close proximity to each other, and none of the money to do anything about any of it...well that has put me on the Big Daddy of Roller Coasters this week. All those downs make me want to get off this ride and run screaming from the park. Not to mention, they are exhausting. I need a nap just writing about it.

However, without the downs of my roller coaster ride, I could never truly appreciate the ups of my roller coaster ride. The ups are like soaring on eagle's wings. Without the troubles, I would never appreciate the positive aspects of my life. I have a Father who loves me regardless of troubles and in spite of all I have done wrong in this world, I have a husband who is my best friend who cares what I think and appreciates me for who I am and loves me even when I am rotten, I have a mother who I get the privilege of embracing as she imparts her wisdom and love on me and I cherish these times because I know she won't be here forever, I have a church family and friends who will pray with me when I'm scared, confused and when I cry out to God for guidance or grace, I have a good job and boss who appreciates the work I do, I have a home with a warm bed and food to eat. Wow, not a bad life. How many people have less than that at this very moment?

Without the perspective the of the Ups, the Downs look devastating with no end in site. We can't always be on the Up, but we can know that when the Downs happen, an Up can't be far behind. I hope my trials and tribulations this week can encourage you to know you are not alone in your daily struggles. We all are on this ride together. Some days its the kiddie roller coaster and others its the Big Daddy roller coaster. Whichever it is, appreciate it, throw your hands up and laugh, this ride goes by to fast.

Thanks for reading. HUGS!

Celebrate when you can...

By Charmin Foth

With Valentine's Day almost upon us, I am reminded of my first Valentine's Day married to Andy.

When we met and for 8 years after Andy was a seargent in the U.S. Army. Being an Army wife wasn't always easy and sometimes it was downright hard. But the struggles we faced together made us stronger as individuals and as a couple.

Most couples find that the first year of marriage is always hard because you are getting used to one another's habits and traits. Sometimes finding common ground can seem almost impossible. That wasn't the case for us. We seemed to have that part down, we have always been able to finish each other's sentences, sometimes to the point that we read each other's thoughts and say what the other is thinking.

But, the first year Andy and I were married was still a difficult one. We were married the last day of May and in September he was sent to school for training and we were separated for a year almost to the day.

Our first Valentine's Day didn't happen on February 14th. On February 14th I was alone, working 14 hour days and I knew Andy wasn't going to get to come home during that time. We didn't have any money, so I couldn't afford to send him something expensive to let him know I was thinking of him. So, I did something a little unconventional and something I do well, I wrote him notes.

I took one of those little "while you were out" pink message pads that offices sometimes use, and for every day he was gone, I wrote a note. "While you were out... Today the dog got out and I had to chase him down the street, I wish you were here to see it." "While you were out... Today was Saturday and I had to watch cartoons without you." "While you were out... I missed you really bad today."

You get the picture. Every day I wrote one of these notes. Some days that was my only way of communicating with him and he didn't even know it. Somedays were funny, some days were mushy, some days were sad. It was just a little glimpse at how my life was going that day, set aside just for him. We had a set of French doors at the back of the house and each day taped one of those notes on the door unitl I had one big heart outlined on the door. But Andy still didn't get to come home, so I kept adding notes every day, with just little bits of how I felt while he was away. I filled in the heart with at least 100 notes.

When he finally did get to come home for a visit, he pulled into the drive and made his way in through the French doors, where all he could see from the light burning inside the house was a hundred little pink "while you were out" notes. It was one of the best Valentine's day we ever had, and it wasn't any where near Feburary 14th and it didn't cost us hundreds of dollars. I can still remember him pulling each note off the door, reading them, laughing and his eyes tearing up as he made his way through each note. He read them all and he knew I had thought of him, every single day, even when we couldn't talk. He knew he was loved and I loved him all the more for taking the time to appreciate the small stuff.

That year I learned the hard way that the Army way of life meant celebrating when you can, not by the date on the calendar. It taught me that sometimes you can be separated for what seems like an eternity, but that doesn't mean you love each other any less. And, that if you can survive the heartache of being alone, you can celebrate the joy of being together, and it makes the moments you have together that much more special. Sometimes you don't get to hear the words "I love you," when you would like, but you keep the faith that the love is still there. 

Learning these lessons made my life as an Army wife easier, they made my life better. They weren't easy lessons to learn but I thank God every day that I was able to take those lessons to heart.

So, remember to celebrate the moments of life together, when you can, not based on the calendar. It's not about the quantity of time you have together or about the quality of the gifts you receive,  it's about the quality of time you have together, the meaning of the gifts you give and the depth of the love you share.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Thanks for reading.

Green Teeth

By Charmin Foth

It is almost Valentine's and everyone's thoughts turn to love. I met Andy, my hubby, 17 years ago on December 9th. At the time I didn't want a relationship. I didn't want to date, I was pretty much over romance all together. I had been in an abusive marriage for seven years and couldn't believe the person I had become in that time. 

I had lost my self esteem and my sense of who I was or what I wanted out of life. I was burned out and struggling with my faith and feeling like a failure. Years of being treated badly had led me to believe I deserved such treatment. I was just beginning to figure myself out again, thanks to the help of some great girlfriends who dragged me out of the house and into the world again. They took me to line dancing classes at the local skating rink and concerts, keeping me from drowning in self pity.

On December 9th, my friend Beth, did exactly that, she drug me out of the house. Living in Nashville at the time, there was always an opportunity for musical entertainment. On that night David Lee Murphy was playing at the Wild Horse Saloon, one of Nashville's hot, touristy spots on 2nd Avenue, and Beth suggested we go and try out our new line dancing skills. So, rather than sitting at home on a Friday night eating fish sticks and tater tots, I agreed.

When we got there, we found a table and ordered diet Cokes. Not my usual fare, I'm more a Mountain Dew connoisseur, and I know you thought I was going to say something else, but I am truly a wild woman hanging out at a saloon drinking diet Coke. Beth and I had fun people watching and dancing. The wonderful thing about line dancing is it doesn't require you to have a date, and no one has to be in your personal space. Both of which appealed to me at the time. I had a strict rule, I never slow danced with anyone. That was way too close for me.

While Beth and I were there I had noticed a cowboy in a fringed jacket, Resistol cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes, jeans and boots leaning up against the wall. He was cute, in that lone wolf kind of way. The place was packed with people and we were lucky to have a table with a pretty good view of everything. They were having a beauty contest before the concert so the dances were spread out between the contest events. The place was crawling with very pretty girls and all types of guys, trying to get their attention.

When the guys couldn't get the time of day from the pretty girls, they would begin to look around and ask the rest of us to dance. I wasn't particularly looking for a dance partner, but this young man came up to me and asked me to dance. Since it was a "Boot Scoot Boogie" it wasn't as if I had to get too close to the guy, so I said, "yes." It wasn't until he got on the dance floor, and started smiling at me, that I realized he had horrible green teeth. When he got close enough to where I could actually hear what he was trying to say, I realized he had horrible green breath to go along with it. This is exactly the reason I was against dating. UGGH!

Beth and I laughed over the green teeth once I got back to the table, and I was still keeping an eye on the cowboy holding up the wall across the way. Beth and I may have made a few comments amongst ourselves about him too.

The beauty contest continued for a little while and then they played a slow love song.  Beth and I were talking and minding our own business, when I looked up and saw "green teeth" headed straight for our table. The cowboy holding up the wall must have seen the look of sheer terror come across my face, because just before "green teeth" stepped up to ask me to dance, the cowboy stepped in front of "green teeth" and asked me to dance. In that moment the cowboy rescued me from certain awkwardness, and left "green teeth" standing there looking dazed and confused.

Much to my surprise, I said yes to the cowboy. "Green teeth" did not look happy, but I was so relieved that the cowboy was taking me in the opposite direction, I didn't care. It wasn't until I was on the dance floor that I realized I had broken my own rule. Here I was dancing close to a tall cowboy with a buzz cut, ooohh, this could be trouble.

Not wanting to waste time I figured I'd find out exactly what was wrong with this guy and then get back to the table and enjoy the rest of my evening. We exchanged names, I told him I didn't usually slow dance and apologized if I stepped on his feet. He told me if a horse could step on his feet, then me stepping on his feet wasn't anything to worry about. I found out he was a soldier at Fort Campbell. I also found out he was recently out of a bad marriage too.

I asked him at least twenty questions during the dance. I was determined I was not going to repeat the bad relationships of my past. So I had this checklist in my head and on the first wrong answer, this guy was going to be history. The only problem was, he was getting all the answers right, and from the way he answered, he seemed to be pretty honest. That was different.

I asked him if he did drugs? No. Did he drink a lot? Mountain Dew (at the time that was all I drank). Those were the big deal breakers, because I had been around those guys, and wasn't going down that road again. I asked him if he knew how to read, what was the name of the last book he read. You name it, I was straightforward, to  the point and a little obnoxious. I was sure I had put this guy off.

When the song ended, he followed me back to my table. He made me laugh and spent the rest of the evening at the table with Beth and I. He ordered a coke (they didn't serve Mountain Dew) and we talked until they closed, and he still got all the answers right. I was amazed. As he walked me to my car, he asked me out for the next night. The rest is history.

I have been with that cowboy for 17 years and I love him more every passing year. Amazingly, I owe it all to a guy with green teeth.

Isn't it amazing how God works in ways we could never imagine.

Thanks for reading.

Are you a toon?

By Charmin Foth

I love cartoons and puppets. I always have. Maybe it comes from my love art, drawing and doodling or from growing up on Sesame Street, but cartoons and puppets have always been able make me smile. On a dreary day or when I'm in a bad mood nothing can lift my spirits and bring me out of the dark places like an episode of the Muppets, Pinky and the Brain, Animaniacs or just good ole' Looney Tunes!

I have always been a bit of a toon myself. Over the years many of my friends have said so. Andy, my hubby, agrees with the statement too, he even thinks I'm part Muppet. He says he can tell when I'm really mad, because I get "Muppet lips." Except for Janice on the Muppets, they don't have lips. So I guess that means my lips disappear. He knows I can't stay mad when he tells me I have "Muppet lips." I can't seem to keep myself from laughing when he says it.

I am blessed that I have a husband that loves cartoons as much as I do. There have been many times when Andy and I were the only adults in the theater without children with us. We even had one little boy, barely able to see over the seat, turn around and say, "Where are your kids? What are you doing here?" He just couldn't wrap his little mind around the fact that we were there to see the movie with just as much excitement as he had. When asked what the last movie we saw together was, we received a strange look when Andy and I both said in stereo, "Despicable Me."

It wasn't until we moved with the Army to Germany in the late 90s that I realized I wasn't the only toon in the family. Most people don't see it, but my husband is quite the toon himself. If you have never met my husband, here is the visual... Andy is 6 feet tall and weighs about a buck forty-five soaking wet. He is lean and mean and still wears the same clothes he had in high school. He still wears his hair Army short. He never wears anything but cowboy boots and jeans. His idea of dressing up is a big silver belt buckle and a western shirt to go along with the boots and jeans. He tops it all off with a straw cowboy hat. I fell in love with that cowboy.

Can you see where I'm going with this? One afternoon we made our way across post housing in Bad Kreuznach, Germany were we lived at the time, to barbecue with friends. As we walked closer to playground where the barbecue area was, our friends 4-year-old son yells across the play ground in a crystal clear voice, "Woody!" At that time "Toy Story" was the latest Disney movie and 4-year-old Shane, thought Andy was the cartoon character come to life. Well, from that moment on every kid in the neighborhood and most of the adults called him "Woody." Sometimes, I still do. I even have a little Woody figurine that sits on my computer desk at home to remind me of the toon that I love the most.

Shane is all grown now, and probably doesn't even remember "Woody" but we will never forget that adorable little 4-year-old and the cartoon legacy he left with Andy.

Are you a toon, maybe you just need to let your inner toon free. Trust me, it will make you smile, even if you don't want to.

:)

Thanks for reading.

O Christmas Tree...

By Charmin Foth

After two weeks of having my tree up with only lights on it, I have finally gone into the depths of the root cellar of this old house to carefully pull out the foot locker full of ornaments to adorn my tree.

The day after Thanksgiving marked the 26th Annual Fantasy of Trees, a fundraiser for the East Tennessee Children's Hospital. It is a veritable winter wonderland of all things Christmas, especially the trees. With over 300 trees beautifully decorated by companies and designers from all over Knoxville up for adoption, it is enough to give any one tree envy. There are so many beautiful trees decorated with themes, and color coordinated to match any decor.

I know why they call it Fantasy of Trees. Every year I think, "Oh, look at that one, I would love that tree," or, "Wouldn't that be beautiful in our living room?"

But when I go home and start to set up the tree and begin to pull out all of my ornaments I look at my tree in a whole new light. My Christmas tree becomes a portal into the past. Each decoration reminds me of something or someone special.

I have photo ornaments of the first years of my relationship with my husband. When I hang those on the tree I remember the excitement of our relationship as it was just beginning to bud into something amazing.

I have ornaments from when we were stationed in Germany for three years, and all the places I had the opportunity to travel during that time. I have one of the bridge houses in Bad Kreuznach where we lived, one for each year we were there.

I have tiny wooden shoes from Holland, hand painted pottery bells from Poland, hand painted, hand blown glass ornaments from the Czech Republic, a tiny Eiffel Tower from Paris, France and a little 2000 from being there for the Millennium fireworks in Paris on New Year's Eve. I have a miniature coo-coo clock from the Black Forest in Germany.

I also have ornaments from friends and they remind me that friends are precious things, never to be forgotten.

So I may not have the designer, color coordinated tree, with all the fancy matching ornaments and the perfect angel on top. My tree may not be a shining artistic example but I have a colorful kaleidescope of memories, carefully hung on branches amid twinkling lights that I would not trade for all the designer trees out there.

Each ornament has a memory that takes me back in time, and gives me the opportunity to reflect and give thanks for the blessings that have passed through my life so far.

I can't wait to see what new memory I'll hang on the tree next year.

Merry Christmas!

The Count...

There are no children at my house, not that I need any, my hubby, Andy is just a big kid himself. Believe me when I tell you, the only difference is his toys cost more.

In all our years together, we never tried to have kids and at this point, that ship has sailed, and I don't mind. We both love kids, and are pretty good with them. I have always worked with the youth in one way or another at church and all of our friends have kids.

The kids think we are great fun. I have had tea parties, colored, made friendship bracelets, built forts with sheets, played games, you name it. Andy loves to play video games, and play pull my finger and burp letters of the alphabet, great boy stuff. But, sometimes I think our friends, the parents, worry when we come to visit.

As I said in my last post, Andy is the Duke of Inappropriate Conversation. There truly is no buffer between his brain and his mouth at times. When you don't have children around all the time, and you are married to me, you get used to being able to say exactly what you are thinking without any repercussions. That has always been one of my favorite parts of our marriage. We can truly be ourselves around each other. However, once you step into someone else's world you at least want to appear civilized.

I can not count the times that he has said something and a parent has had to say, "Andy, the kids." Don't get me wrong, I can be uncivilized too, I just try to hide it better.

On our last trip to visit friends in Virginia to visit friends, I reminded Andy, that not two weeks prior he had offended another of our friends by saying or doing something goofy that was not intended for children's ears. I did not want a repeat of that event. I told him that whenever he had a quick comeback to what someone said he needed to stall his quick response. I suggested that whenever the urge to utter something he thought was witty, that he count to ten slowly and think about who was in the room.

Five minutes after our arrival in Virginia, someone said something and I immediately saw the look on Andy's face and he began to count out-loud, 1, 2, 3, 4... you get the picture. I couldn't help but laugh and our friends asked, "what he was doing?"

I told them about my idea to make Andy aware of his surroundings. They began to laugh too.

Well, as the weekend progressed, Andy had to count many, many times, and soon the kids were in on it. As soon as someone would say something, the kids would look at Andy and begin to count. It was priceless. As soon as Andy began to count all the adults could guess the direction his thoughts were going and would begin to laugh.

My friend Amy said she was going to make it a family rule and apply it to both her brothers and her brothers-in-law. It seems that Andy is not the only "Duke of Inappropriate Conversation" out there. 

I think everyone had a great time with the count. If you have a "Duke of Inappropriate Conversation" in your life, don't get discouraged. Try suggesting they count. I recommend to ten, but if they are really bad, you may want to consider more. Just be sure you do it with a smile.


 Thanks for reading.

Hello Again Readers...

It's been a while since I've written in the public forum. I am sure I am a little rusty, but hey, let's see where this leads.

Since my exodus from the paper, I have had several people ask me to write again. It's not like I actually stopped writing, I do it every day at work, it is just a little different. Now I am the one sending out the press releases instead of wading through them to see what is noteworthy.

For those of you who wanted me to blog, I hope I don't disappoint you. I'm sure a lot of my ramblings will talk about my faith, if that bothers you, change the channel. For those of you who know me, I am who I am and I make no apologies for that. If you know me, you also know I'm not perfect and I don't claim to be. I have done many, many things that I am not proud of but I can only hope that I have learned from them. I may share some of those lessons as we travel along this path, we'll see.

Sometimes I have been called the Queen of Too Much Information so be aware that I will say things that may you may not want to know. I have tried to improve with age. I have been told that if you don't want to know my opinion then don't ask me. I don't that was meant as a compliment, but I took it as one. In any case, I will do what my hubby, Andy, usually does when he meets someone new. I will apologize before-hand.

Here goes. Dear readers, I will at some point offend your sensibilities, for that I apologize now.

Just so you know my husband is the King of Too Much Information and the Duke of Inappropriate Conversation.  He has a good heart, but there is no stop between his brain and his mouth. I am sure he will be the topic of much conversation. He is a great source of material. I'm just glad he loves me and knows me well enough to understand my ramblings.

Many people say I am too nice and I always look at life with an optimistic attitude. To that I say, I am diplomatic, not necessarily nice but I try. Life is too short to spend it angry, I'd rather laugh. As for my outlook on life, I have an odd perspective, one that usually takes some explaining, and that can make things interesting.

Well, I hope I can share some laughter and enough strange perspective with this writing endeavor to keep you interested. Thanks for tuning in and not changing the channel, yet. I'll post again soon.

Thanks for reading.