Big Loser
You know you are losing inches when your sports bra has wrinkles in it. I was looking forward to buying new clothes, but not this.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Where's the Delete Key???
Have you ever wished you had a delete key for real life? Think of the immense possibilities that could bring. The next time something offensive slipped out of your mouth, you could back up, hit delete, engage your brain, then say something more intelligent. It wouldn't have to be saved to memory, just vanish.
What about people? Am I the only one who wishes I could hit delete on another person? (I know, it does not sound nice, nor very Christian.) I'm not talking about a family member who irriates me, nor the rude driver who just cut me off and thought it was somehow my fault. I'm talking about someone in your life that is a stumbling block: Someone who manages to steal your time, energy, or other resources. If I'm totally honest, stealing is not a very accurate term. Someone can't steal my time unless I allow it, but they can be very deceptive in their motives.
It could be the waiter at your favorite restaurant. You go there to enjoy the company of another individual and feast on your favorite cuisine. You don't go there for intrusive comments from this individual. Nor do you take kindly to their overt advances. A delete key would work nicely in this situation.
I don't mind confrontations. What I do mind is when I am so shocked by a person's free speech at I don't know how to respond. Sometimes I think a slap in the face seems appropriate for a lady, but I of course would never respond as such. The scenario is often played back in my head many times. Hours later I think of a snappy comeback or a word of truth that would have done the trick almost as well as the delete key. Some of your other options are:
1) To never go back to the restaurant and avoid the chance of it happening again.
2) Find out when that person works and only go on his days off.
3) Decide how and whom to confront about this person and do it.
4) Is delete still an option?
Maybe I'm not as confrontational as I thought I was. I wish I had a delete key in life. Even if it didn't permanently delete, but just stashed things in your recycle bin. At least then you could pull it out only when you felt like you were ready to deal with it. The rest of the time, it stays safely tucked in the bin.
Have you ever wished you had a delete key for real life? Think of the immense possibilities that could bring. The next time something offensive slipped out of your mouth, you could back up, hit delete, engage your brain, then say something more intelligent. It wouldn't have to be saved to memory, just vanish.
What about people? Am I the only one who wishes I could hit delete on another person? (I know, it does not sound nice, nor very Christian.) I'm not talking about a family member who irriates me, nor the rude driver who just cut me off and thought it was somehow my fault. I'm talking about someone in your life that is a stumbling block: Someone who manages to steal your time, energy, or other resources. If I'm totally honest, stealing is not a very accurate term. Someone can't steal my time unless I allow it, but they can be very deceptive in their motives.
It could be the waiter at your favorite restaurant. You go there to enjoy the company of another individual and feast on your favorite cuisine. You don't go there for intrusive comments from this individual. Nor do you take kindly to their overt advances. A delete key would work nicely in this situation.
I don't mind confrontations. What I do mind is when I am so shocked by a person's free speech at I don't know how to respond. Sometimes I think a slap in the face seems appropriate for a lady, but I of course would never respond as such. The scenario is often played back in my head many times. Hours later I think of a snappy comeback or a word of truth that would have done the trick almost as well as the delete key. Some of your other options are:
1) To never go back to the restaurant and avoid the chance of it happening again.
2) Find out when that person works and only go on his days off.
3) Decide how and whom to confront about this person and do it.
4) Is delete still an option?
Maybe I'm not as confrontational as I thought I was. I wish I had a delete key in life. Even if it didn't permanently delete, but just stashed things in your recycle bin. At least then you could pull it out only when you felt like you were ready to deal with it. The rest of the time, it stays safely tucked in the bin.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Song
I heard this song the other day and cried. It isn't brand new, but I had never heard it.
Artist Joe Nichols
"If Nobody Believed in You"
I watched him take the two strike call:
He hadn't tried to swing at all.
I guess he'd had all that he could take,
He walked away, for goodness sake.
His father's voice was loud an' mean:
"You won't amount to anything."
That little boy quit tryin',
He just walked away.
There were teardrops on his face.
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
That old man said: "One more try,
"I know I'm not too old to try.
"I promise, son, I'll do my best,
"This time, I'm gonna pass the test."
"Give me the keys, Dad, an' get in."
His father never drove again.
That old man quit tryin',
He just turned away.
An' there were teardrops on his face.
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
We take His name out of schools.
The lawyers say it breaks the rules.
Pledge of allegiance can't be writ,
An' under God, should not be said.
I wonder how He will take.
I just pray it's not too late.
What if God quit tryin',
He just turned away?
There were teardrops on his face?
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
I heard this song the other day and cried. It isn't brand new, but I had never heard it.
Artist Joe Nichols
"If Nobody Believed in You"
I watched him take the two strike call:
He hadn't tried to swing at all.
I guess he'd had all that he could take,
He walked away, for goodness sake.
His father's voice was loud an' mean:
"You won't amount to anything."
That little boy quit tryin',
He just walked away.
There were teardrops on his face.
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
That old man said: "One more try,
"I know I'm not too old to try.
"I promise, son, I'll do my best,
"This time, I'm gonna pass the test."
"Give me the keys, Dad, an' get in."
His father never drove again.
That old man quit tryin',
He just turned away.
An' there were teardrops on his face.
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
We take His name out of schools.
The lawyers say it breaks the rules.
Pledge of allegiance can't be writ,
An' under God, should not be said.
I wonder how He will take.
I just pray it's not too late.
What if God quit tryin',
He just turned away?
There were teardrops on his face?
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
Tell me, how would you feel?
You'd probably give up too,
If nobody believed in you.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
I had the best time meeting with Heth! She is every bit as real and sweet as she is on her blog. And that baby was just adorable. I think we could have chatted all day long and never run out of things to talk about. I found it very amusing that our dh's seemed to have a lot in common too. I am so thankful we had the chance to meet in person. She is a rare gem.
Friday, January 27, 2006
I couldn't sleep last night. Either it was the Starbucks I had at 4:30 or I was too excited about today. I think it was the latter, or both. You see, I'm going to do something today that I've never done before. I'm going to meet one of my online friends in person. She happens to be in town with her hubby, who is on a business trip. I have no idea what we will talk about, but I have a feeling we will find plenty of topics for conversation. Of course there is a tricky part to this whole situation.
I've always warned my children that there is no way I would let them meet someone online and in real life. I've drilled into them the dangers of weirdos lurking on the internet, waiting to deceive them into believing they are someone they are not. I've questioned them on any "new friends." How do you really know she is a 14 year old girl from Japan? It is probably a 40 year old man posing as a girl. When they argue that they've seen pictures, my response has been, "how do you know that is who they really are? They could use a niece's picture or anyones for that matter. Then your friend will all of the sudden find themselves visiting the U.S. and want to meet you somewhere. In reality, it is all a setup to meet this pervert."
So how do I tell them I'm going to meet this lovely lady, with children, at the hotel she is staying at-or a bakery across the street from her hotel? I'm not setting a very good example am I.
I am excited none-the-less, to meet a fellow blogger whom I've loved getting to know via bloglife and now to meet face-to-face.
I've always warned my children that there is no way I would let them meet someone online and in real life. I've drilled into them the dangers of weirdos lurking on the internet, waiting to deceive them into believing they are someone they are not. I've questioned them on any "new friends." How do you really know she is a 14 year old girl from Japan? It is probably a 40 year old man posing as a girl. When they argue that they've seen pictures, my response has been, "how do you know that is who they really are? They could use a niece's picture or anyones for that matter. Then your friend will all of the sudden find themselves visiting the U.S. and want to meet you somewhere. In reality, it is all a setup to meet this pervert."
So how do I tell them I'm going to meet this lovely lady, with children, at the hotel she is staying at-or a bakery across the street from her hotel? I'm not setting a very good example am I.
I am excited none-the-less, to meet a fellow blogger whom I've loved getting to know via bloglife and now to meet face-to-face.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
My Obsession
(I edited this post to add a pic of when I was in second grade to give you an idea of why I hated my hair.)
Okay, a confession to make. I have an obsession about my hair. For most of my life, I've always had short hair. Growing up, I yearned for long, silky hair like both of my sisters. But I was blessed with naturally curly hair (hated hearing that growing up) and because my mom didn't know what to do with it, she kept it pixie short.
I'll admit, we didn't have the hair products out there that we have now for taming wild locks, but surely something different could have been done. I think that was the beginning of my hair obsession.
When I was in 2nd grade, after a particularly bad haircut, I was walking on the playground. (Hmmm...that word sort of dates me, doesn't it? I have no idea if they are still called that.) A boy who was probably in 5th grade came up to me and asked, "are you a boy or girl?" I don't recall giving him an answer, just the feelings of being ugly and unfeminine.
Finally in 7th grade I convinced my mom to let my hair grow. When I finally got it past my shoulders, I went in to have it "shaped." Imagine my horror when the first cut the girl made was whacking it above my shoulders. I went home and cried, feeling ugly and wondering if I would ever feel attractive.
My senior year of high school, I went to cosmetology school. I learned to work with my hair and found I did like curly hair. I continued with short hair styles, but I did feel more feminine.
Three or 4 years ago, I had this crazy idea to let my hair grow long. (Maybe it was that whole getting close to 40 idea that it's now or never so if you're going to do it, better do it now.) It was ok. I think I have one absolutely awful picture of it. I finally cut off 4 inches and it seemed more manageable. Then a girlfriend talked me into trying it red. Michael had asked me for years to try it, but I just never thought it would look good on me. (I completely forgot that my Irish grandmother had beautiful auburn hair.) Michael loves red hair, and wants me to keep it that way. My mother hates it, says it is way too dark. (Well, it changes almost weekly, so if it is too dark, wait until next week or month.)
But seriously, I find my hair tends to dictate whether I am having a good day or bad. I know this sounds terribly shallow, but something I struggle with. Since high school, I wash and fix my hair every morning. Right away I know what kind of a day I will have. I do think it stems from the issues of feeling so unfeminine growing up. Now I'm debating about whether to post or put a link here of the hair pics I've taken more recently from the blonde/gray to burgundy red changes. It seems like such vanity, but it is an obsession of mine.
(I edited this post to add a pic of when I was in second grade to give you an idea of why I hated my hair.)
Okay, a confession to make. I have an obsession about my hair. For most of my life, I've always had short hair. Growing up, I yearned for long, silky hair like both of my sisters. But I was blessed with naturally curly hair (hated hearing that growing up) and because my mom didn't know what to do with it, she kept it pixie short.
I'll admit, we didn't have the hair products out there that we have now for taming wild locks, but surely something different could have been done. I think that was the beginning of my hair obsession.
When I was in 2nd grade, after a particularly bad haircut, I was walking on the playground. (Hmmm...that word sort of dates me, doesn't it? I have no idea if they are still called that.) A boy who was probably in 5th grade came up to me and asked, "are you a boy or girl?" I don't recall giving him an answer, just the feelings of being ugly and unfeminine.
Finally in 7th grade I convinced my mom to let my hair grow. When I finally got it past my shoulders, I went in to have it "shaped." Imagine my horror when the first cut the girl made was whacking it above my shoulders. I went home and cried, feeling ugly and wondering if I would ever feel attractive.
My senior year of high school, I went to cosmetology school. I learned to work with my hair and found I did like curly hair. I continued with short hair styles, but I did feel more feminine.
Three or 4 years ago, I had this crazy idea to let my hair grow long. (Maybe it was that whole getting close to 40 idea that it's now or never so if you're going to do it, better do it now.) It was ok. I think I have one absolutely awful picture of it. I finally cut off 4 inches and it seemed more manageable. Then a girlfriend talked me into trying it red. Michael had asked me for years to try it, but I just never thought it would look good on me. (I completely forgot that my Irish grandmother had beautiful auburn hair.) Michael loves red hair, and wants me to keep it that way. My mother hates it, says it is way too dark. (Well, it changes almost weekly, so if it is too dark, wait until next week or month.)
But seriously, I find my hair tends to dictate whether I am having a good day or bad. I know this sounds terribly shallow, but something I struggle with. Since high school, I wash and fix my hair every morning. Right away I know what kind of a day I will have. I do think it stems from the issues of feeling so unfeminine growing up. Now I'm debating about whether to post or put a link here of the hair pics I've taken more recently from the blonde/gray to burgundy red changes. It seems like such vanity, but it is an obsession of mine.
Out On The Boat
During our trip to Phoenix, Michael and I went out on my sister's boat. They live in a Lake Community. Seeing as how Phoenix is actually part of the desert, living on a lake seems the only option for surviving the Arizona heat in the summer. In the winter it is gorgeous! We had a lovely cruise around the lake looking at equisite and expensive homes. Here are some photos to give you an idea of what I am talking about. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera, so had to take these with my phone, so the quality is poor.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Grandmother
I post on several message boards. On one of them, all the rage are these fancy "grandmother" signatures. I don't have a single really decent photo of Ethan from recently. (Mostly, because I can't get him to stay still long enough for them not to blur.) But I tried playing around with one from his first winter. I forgot how adorable he was as a baby.
After I got so hyped up about the Football game yesterday, I got to missing Ethan. Because we'd been out of town the weekend before, I hadn't seen him for nearly 14 days. And it would be another 5 at least before I'd see him. Plus, I talked to my daughter and he'd been at the Emergency Room on Thursday. He has pneumonia again. So instead of watching the game (good choice-guess who lost?) I drove 90 miles to see that sweet boy. He was so happy and just wanted to sit in my lap. Only got to stay a few hours before I had to get home, but I was so glad I had gone. I hated leaving. Ethan started crying and trying to pull me back to the couch to sit with him. I cried at least the first 20 miles home.
Oh, and here is a not too particularly good pic of Michael and I, but figured it was about time we started taking more pics together.
After I got so hyped up about the Football game yesterday, I got to missing Ethan. Because we'd been out of town the weekend before, I hadn't seen him for nearly 14 days. And it would be another 5 at least before I'd see him. Plus, I talked to my daughter and he'd been at the Emergency Room on Thursday. He has pneumonia again. So instead of watching the game (good choice-guess who lost?) I drove 90 miles to see that sweet boy. He was so happy and just wanted to sit in my lap. Only got to stay a few hours before I had to get home, but I was so glad I had gone. I hated leaving. Ethan started crying and trying to pull me back to the couch to sit with him. I cried at least the first 20 miles home.
Oh, and here is a not too particularly good pic of Michael and I, but figured it was about time we started taking more pics together.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Go Broncos
Go Broncos!
If you are a Denver Bronco fan, there isn't much more explanation needed. Today is a big day. If they win against the Steelers we will be in the Super Bowl. When they get this far, though, everyone becomes a fan-even if they are not football fans.
I've always liked football, but coming from Arizona (back when they didn't have a team) I didn't understand what Bronco fever was. It didn't take long to become a Denver Bronco fan. I have home video of my 3 oldest children decked out in Bronco clothing. My son is singing, "La, la, la, love the Broncos, we are the 3 Amigos..." (Okay, probably nobody will get that one unless they were around for the SuperBowl something like 17 years ago.) My 5 year old at the time reads a story, complete with hand-drawn pictures, of the Broncos going to the SuperBowl.
I take advantage of every occasion to have fun, create a festive atmosphere. One tradition relates to the Broncos. Anytime they get this far in the Play-Off games, out comes the Blue and Orange nail color. I've been waiting all week for my nail decals to arrive that I bought off of ebay. So this afternoon, I got busy. (I still have 3 more sets of nails to paint before the game starts. I don't mind doing them at the last minute, I just hope the Broncos win so we can wear them until the SuperBowl. We are fickle fans. If they lose, there will be some quick removal of our blue and orange.
Sad
I want to cry. I have been cooking and creating recipes for a number of years. I've been storing these in an email file. This year I decided to create a cookbook, that way, when each of my kids moves out I can give them a copy of some of their favorite foods, meals, and dishes. I also have a collection of recipes handed down from my mom and mother-in-law.
So why do I want to cry? I finally have my computer back to normal function. The bad news...I lost everything in my email account. Yes, dumb, I know. I had some picture files there and music too. Those losses I will live with. (And hopefully , I can somehow get all my email addresses and internet favorites back little-by-little.) Little things like the daily blogs I liked to visit. (I did find the few who have commented on mine-thank-you!)
I am just not sure what I'm going to do this next week when I am planning meals. Or when Michael or one of the kids request a favorite meal that was recently created. I must be off to bed before I let it get to me.
So why do I want to cry? I finally have my computer back to normal function. The bad news...I lost everything in my email account. Yes, dumb, I know. I had some picture files there and music too. Those losses I will live with. (And hopefully , I can somehow get all my email addresses and internet favorites back little-by-little.) Little things like the daily blogs I liked to visit. (I did find the few who have commented on mine-thank-you!)
I am just not sure what I'm going to do this next week when I am planning meals. Or when Michael or one of the kids request a favorite meal that was recently created. I must be off to bed before I let it get to me.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
End of the Spear
What an emotional movie this was! Thankfully, it ended on a very positive/laughable note. I need that at the end of a movie that has caused me to cry. (I don't cry very easily.)
It wasn't at all what I expected. Truthfully, I didn't go with any great expectations-except that I was a little miffed when I went. I had purchased 5 tickets at $8 each. We rarely go to the movies. Once a year, usually around the holidays, we try to go as a family (all 8 of us.) But it was still a big deal to purchase 5 tickets.
My youngest 2 have a lot of homework at night, so a week ago Thursday, the worked diligently to have it all finished by dinner. (Even Sarabeth, who works stage crew until 5, and didn't get home until 5:30 tried to work ahead so she could attend the movie.) El had to work that night, which I didn't know. My girls invited friends to go, but nobody else was allowed to go to a movie on a school night. Then Michael bailed on me. He was too tired to go out. Ugh! So the three of us jumped in the car and off we went.
The theater parking lot was strangely quiet. I didn't think we were very early. Once inside I pulled out our tickets. I couldn't believe it. We were there a week early. The movie wasn't until the following week. I started laughing and told the girls. I felt a little guilty for giving my husband such a hard time and was ever so thankful I hadn't convinced him to come.
The girls said they'd worked so hard to be able to go, they didn't want to go home. So we went to the mall, visited with El, and laughed a lot about getting the wrong date.
Last Thursday we were having our first big snow. The driving was treacherous, and I was tempted to just not go to the movie-in spite of the $40 I'd spent. Once again the girls were diligent, so we went. And once again, it was only the 3 of us. But this time, I wasn't angry.
The movie was excellent. It was more about the tribes people than the missionaries. It is rated PG13 for violence. The message was simple and poignant. The men were killed because the people they went to help didn't understand why they were there. But ultimately, it was their sacrifice that brought true freedom and change for these people. The movie did not preach. This was not a movie like one of Billy Graham's that the Gospel is preached and lives are changed. But the simple message of the gospel was. I laughed when my daughter asked, "why didn't dad go? They didn't even say God or Jesus once in the movie." She thought he would have enjoyed it as much as we did. Maybe when it comes out in video.
It wasn't at all what I expected. Truthfully, I didn't go with any great expectations-except that I was a little miffed when I went. I had purchased 5 tickets at $8 each. We rarely go to the movies. Once a year, usually around the holidays, we try to go as a family (all 8 of us.) But it was still a big deal to purchase 5 tickets.
My youngest 2 have a lot of homework at night, so a week ago Thursday, the worked diligently to have it all finished by dinner. (Even Sarabeth, who works stage crew until 5, and didn't get home until 5:30 tried to work ahead so she could attend the movie.) El had to work that night, which I didn't know. My girls invited friends to go, but nobody else was allowed to go to a movie on a school night. Then Michael bailed on me. He was too tired to go out. Ugh! So the three of us jumped in the car and off we went.
The theater parking lot was strangely quiet. I didn't think we were very early. Once inside I pulled out our tickets. I couldn't believe it. We were there a week early. The movie wasn't until the following week. I started laughing and told the girls. I felt a little guilty for giving my husband such a hard time and was ever so thankful I hadn't convinced him to come.
The girls said they'd worked so hard to be able to go, they didn't want to go home. So we went to the mall, visited with El, and laughed a lot about getting the wrong date.
Last Thursday we were having our first big snow. The driving was treacherous, and I was tempted to just not go to the movie-in spite of the $40 I'd spent. Once again the girls were diligent, so we went. And once again, it was only the 3 of us. But this time, I wasn't angry.
The movie was excellent. It was more about the tribes people than the missionaries. It is rated PG13 for violence. The message was simple and poignant. The men were killed because the people they went to help didn't understand why they were there. But ultimately, it was their sacrifice that brought true freedom and change for these people. The movie did not preach. This was not a movie like one of Billy Graham's that the Gospel is preached and lives are changed. But the simple message of the gospel was. I laughed when my daughter asked, "why didn't dad go? They didn't even say God or Jesus once in the movie." She thought he would have enjoyed it as much as we did. Maybe when it comes out in video.
Friday, January 20, 2006
5 Weird Things About Me
I was tagged by Paula at Full Of Life This has been a difficult one for me to resond to. Do I really want to reveal weird things about myself? What will others think, that I'm weird? Oh well, here goes:
Five weird habits of yourself:
“The first player of this game starts with the topic ‘five weird habits of yourself,’ and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don’t forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says ‘You are tagged’ (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.”
1. I have always wanted a housefull of children. I still think we need about a dozen to feel full.
2. I sometimes get hung up on meaningless things. Once I wondered if I put my deodorant on the same way every day. Was it always the left underarm first? So just for fun, every day that week I switched off. I'd leave the container facing the direction of which I left off on. (You see, I obviously have too much time...not enough kids yet.)
3. I shower, fix my hair, and wear makeup to work out. I can't imagine not doing this ever.
4. I don't sit in the same spot at church every week. When taking classes with open seating, I like to sit in a different seat every time. It drives others crazy. They walk in and look at you as if to say, "what are you doing in my seat? Get out!"
But I like variety.
5. I bought a "puppy love" stuffed dog from the post office one day. I thought it would make a nice gift for one of the kids sometime when he or she was having an off day. (Or a fun locker suprise.) But then I kept him for myself as my driving companion. He sits up front with me and goes everywhere with me. I've even been known to stuff him in my purse and take him shopping with me. (Must be a leftover memory/feeling from when I was growing up. I kept a water balloon with a face drawn on it for nearly a year-as sort of a pet/friend.)
LOL, one of these days I will post about my hair obsession, but I'm not going to include it here.
So now that you all know how weird I really am, I'm going to go out on a limb here and tag Jenni , Tina Moriah , Heidi , and Shel(. So ladies, when you have a day and can't think of anything to blog, please share your weird habits so I don't feel alone in the weird category.
Five weird habits of yourself:
“The first player of this game starts with the topic ‘five weird habits of yourself,’ and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don’t forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says ‘You are tagged’ (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.”
1. I have always wanted a housefull of children. I still think we need about a dozen to feel full.
2. I sometimes get hung up on meaningless things. Once I wondered if I put my deodorant on the same way every day. Was it always the left underarm first? So just for fun, every day that week I switched off. I'd leave the container facing the direction of which I left off on. (You see, I obviously have too much time...not enough kids yet.)
3. I shower, fix my hair, and wear makeup to work out. I can't imagine not doing this ever.
4. I don't sit in the same spot at church every week. When taking classes with open seating, I like to sit in a different seat every time. It drives others crazy. They walk in and look at you as if to say, "what are you doing in my seat? Get out!"
But I like variety.
5. I bought a "puppy love" stuffed dog from the post office one day. I thought it would make a nice gift for one of the kids sometime when he or she was having an off day. (Or a fun locker suprise.) But then I kept him for myself as my driving companion. He sits up front with me and goes everywhere with me. I've even been known to stuff him in my purse and take him shopping with me. (Must be a leftover memory/feeling from when I was growing up. I kept a water balloon with a face drawn on it for nearly a year-as sort of a pet/friend.)
LOL, one of these days I will post about my hair obsession, but I'm not going to include it here.
So now that you all know how weird I really am, I'm going to go out on a limb here and tag Jenni , Tina Moriah , Heidi , and Shel(. So ladies, when you have a day and can't think of anything to blog, please share your weird habits so I don't feel alone in the weird category.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
End Of The Spear
Am going to see "End Of The Spear" tonight. Hope it is good. It is based on the true story "Jim Elliot," a missionary and "the rest of the story." I will update and let you all know what I think.
What I'm Currently Reading
At the moment I'm reading a book entitled, "Experiencing Spiritual Breakthroughs" by Bruce Wilkinson. I bought it some time ago, but am just getting around to reading it. I find a lot of spiritual books tend to be written more for women, as I think in general they are the ones most likely to read them. But I have found this one seems to relate more to men. So far, it seems to be one of those life-transforming books. I've decided to give you a taste, by copying a bit from the first chapter:
“Guys,” I said, as I squinted up into the sun, “what were we thinking?”
Above us loomed a hundred and fifty feet of sheer rock. Our objective was simple-get the three of us from down here to up there. A rope snaked down the cliff face to coil menacingly at our feet.
It didn’t help that several teammates had already succeeded at this training phase and were now throwing down encouragements from on high. Or that my partner Al was busy breaking our crisis into bite sizes.
“One hundred and fifty feet is about fifteen stories, I figure,” he said. “Maybe six seconds of free-fall time. Hit the ground right here with about as much forces as, oh, maybe…”
“Al,” I broke in, “why don’t you hand the rope to Jeff.” Fortunately for my quaking knees, Jeff had been tagged to go up next.
I helped him get clipped into the safety harness. The whole point of this trial-by-rock was to face down our fears. By learning to trust not only our equipment but also the other men on our team, we would break through to a higher level of personal confidence and team spirit.
“The man on the top is working with you every step of the way,” our climbing coach had said. “The gear is top-rated. You’ll do fine, especially if you don’t look down.”
When Jeff was securely in his harness, he yelled up, “I’m ready! Who’s holding my line? My life is in your hands!”
“Vince!” Came the reply from far above.
Suddenly Jeff froze, then stepped back and unclipped his harness. Clearly, he wasn’t going up. He started waving his hands and shaking his head to the team above. “I’m not taking one step up this rock with that guy holding my rope!” He shouted. “Get me somebody else!”
In the shocked silence that followed, a feeling even more sickening than the fear of heights hit my stomach. It was imagining the utter embarrassment of Vince, the man on top, rejected as an untrustworthy climbing partner. It was the shattering awareness that all the camaraderie we’d been building piece by piece for days was about to fall apart.
The three of us looked up. The crew above peered down. And none of us knew what to do next.
Until Al stepped up. I heard a click. Al was buckling himself into the dangling harness. In a moment he was leaning into the rope.
“Vince!” he yelled.
“Yeah?”
“You ready?”
“I’m ready!” came back the reply.
“Here I come!” yelled Al. And he started up the face of the wall.
When Al was only about, oh, maybe one second of free-fall time up that cliff; I had my second breakthrough moment. My knees were still jelly, but at least I was breathing again. “You’re going to be okay, said that little voice. You’re going to climb that cliff just fine…all the way to the top.
And by the end of the day, that’s exactly what I had done.
“Guys,” I said, as I squinted up into the sun, “what were we thinking?”
Above us loomed a hundred and fifty feet of sheer rock. Our objective was simple-get the three of us from down here to up there. A rope snaked down the cliff face to coil menacingly at our feet.
It didn’t help that several teammates had already succeeded at this training phase and were now throwing down encouragements from on high. Or that my partner Al was busy breaking our crisis into bite sizes.
“One hundred and fifty feet is about fifteen stories, I figure,” he said. “Maybe six seconds of free-fall time. Hit the ground right here with about as much forces as, oh, maybe…”
“Al,” I broke in, “why don’t you hand the rope to Jeff.” Fortunately for my quaking knees, Jeff had been tagged to go up next.
I helped him get clipped into the safety harness. The whole point of this trial-by-rock was to face down our fears. By learning to trust not only our equipment but also the other men on our team, we would break through to a higher level of personal confidence and team spirit.
“The man on the top is working with you every step of the way,” our climbing coach had said. “The gear is top-rated. You’ll do fine, especially if you don’t look down.”
When Jeff was securely in his harness, he yelled up, “I’m ready! Who’s holding my line? My life is in your hands!”
“Vince!” Came the reply from far above.
Suddenly Jeff froze, then stepped back and unclipped his harness. Clearly, he wasn’t going up. He started waving his hands and shaking his head to the team above. “I’m not taking one step up this rock with that guy holding my rope!” He shouted. “Get me somebody else!”
In the shocked silence that followed, a feeling even more sickening than the fear of heights hit my stomach. It was imagining the utter embarrassment of Vince, the man on top, rejected as an untrustworthy climbing partner. It was the shattering awareness that all the camaraderie we’d been building piece by piece for days was about to fall apart.
The three of us looked up. The crew above peered down. And none of us knew what to do next.
Until Al stepped up. I heard a click. Al was buckling himself into the dangling harness. In a moment he was leaning into the rope.
“Vince!” he yelled.
“Yeah?”
“You ready?”
“I’m ready!” came back the reply.
“Here I come!” yelled Al. And he started up the face of the wall.
When Al was only about, oh, maybe one second of free-fall time up that cliff; I had my second breakthrough moment. My knees were still jelly, but at least I was breathing again. “You’re going to be okay, said that little voice. You’re going to climb that cliff just fine…all the way to the top.
And by the end of the day, that’s exactly what I had done.
The Other Surprise
The night before Christopher went back to college, we were both sitting in front of the computer. (He was at his dad's, I was at mine-in the same room.) He said,
"Ma, I told you and dad you could borrow my car while you were in town. Why did dad rent one?"
Michael's email was open and Christopher noticed a Hertz email. Before I could answer, he let out a yelp.
"What the???? A Ford Mustang convertible???? Oh my gosh! I can't believe this!"
Now I was curious. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, but my mind raced. Granted I have secretly always wanted to drive a convertible, but it is one of those things I have never said outloud to him. Plus, once you pass the 4-5 kid mark, those thoughts are covered over with "the bigger, the better" ideas.
The other thought that came to me was I could not remember a time that Michael tried to surprise me in any fashion even close to this. Anyone who knows him, number one would say he is NEVER frivolous with money, and secondly is so very practical (not to mention very, um, cheap? Ok, frugal.) This was so out-of-character for him. But lately I never know what to expect. It has been an exciting time in our lives.
Christopher made me promise not to say anything and to act surprised. But the rest of the night, whenever he catch my eyes, he'd go into this routine. He'd hold his hands out on an imaginary steering wheel, toss his head as if his hair was blowing in the wind while driving with the top down. We'd laugh and laugh. I think everyone thought we were nuts.
Thankfully, Michael mentioned it the day before we left. I wouldn't have to put on an act of surprise. But I felt like a little kid in a candy store. At unexpected times, I'd break out in a big grin or laugh. After being married 22 years, were we learning to have fun again?
Here is the one time Michael drove the car all weekend-when we left the airport.
The rest of the time I was the driver. The weather was gorgeous. I think I only left the top up once. I didn't care what I looked like once I got to my destination. I would just mention the car, and they'd understand. We'd left the kids at home and we were out acting like we didn't have a care in the world. We all need a weekend like this.
"Ma, I told you and dad you could borrow my car while you were in town. Why did dad rent one?"
Michael's email was open and Christopher noticed a Hertz email. Before I could answer, he let out a yelp.
"What the???? A Ford Mustang convertible???? Oh my gosh! I can't believe this!"
Now I was curious. I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, but my mind raced. Granted I have secretly always wanted to drive a convertible, but it is one of those things I have never said outloud to him. Plus, once you pass the 4-5 kid mark, those thoughts are covered over with "the bigger, the better" ideas.
The other thought that came to me was I could not remember a time that Michael tried to surprise me in any fashion even close to this. Anyone who knows him, number one would say he is NEVER frivolous with money, and secondly is so very practical (not to mention very, um, cheap? Ok, frugal.) This was so out-of-character for him. But lately I never know what to expect. It has been an exciting time in our lives.
Christopher made me promise not to say anything and to act surprised. But the rest of the night, whenever he catch my eyes, he'd go into this routine. He'd hold his hands out on an imaginary steering wheel, toss his head as if his hair was blowing in the wind while driving with the top down. We'd laugh and laugh. I think everyone thought we were nuts.
Thankfully, Michael mentioned it the day before we left. I wouldn't have to put on an act of surprise. But I felt like a little kid in a candy store. At unexpected times, I'd break out in a big grin or laugh. After being married 22 years, were we learning to have fun again?
Here is the one time Michael drove the car all weekend-when we left the airport.
The rest of the time I was the driver. The weather was gorgeous. I think I only left the top up once. I didn't care what I looked like once I got to my destination. I would just mention the car, and they'd understand. We'd left the kids at home and we were out acting like we didn't have a care in the world. We all need a weekend like this.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
The Christmas Gift
During the Christmas break our house was full again. (Well, maybe full is not a good term to use. I would never want to give the impression that others were not welcome because we could not fit anymore into our home.) Christopher was home from college for nearly 3 weeks, Christina and Ethan were here, and the girls were home from school. It is wonderful to not have a schedule and to just sit and visit. Michael remarked how great it was to have everyone here. That is when the idea came for the Christmas gift. I told him I am sure his parents felt the same way every time he came into town to visit.
He knew we'd found the perfect gift. Very quickly, he got on the internet and made plans for he and I to fly there for a surprise visit. On Christmas he called them and told them their gift would be late, that it would arrive sometime in January. On Friday the 13th, we knocked at their door. The gift had arrived.
I have to admit, the gift felt a bit selfish. Afterall, Michael and I not only had a mini-vacation, but the added blessing of seeing his parents/family, and mine as well. (I like to think of it as the gift that keeps on giving.) To me, there is no greater joy than sharing our lives and spending time with family and others.
I've mentioned the "Memory Jar" in my "Surprises" post. We saw it in person. It it a beautiful Tea Jar that sits on their coffee table. (The Tea Jar is from the memory everyone has of my Father-in-law making sun tea nearly every day in the hot Arizona summers. It usually sat on the diving board by the pool, which had to be moved when the kids wanted to swim. Dad made sure we never ran out of ice cold, refreshing tea. Before the jar in the 'fridge was empty, there'd be another one brewing in the hot sun.) The Memory Jar is stuffed with folded pieces of paper, filled with a lifetime of memories. I realized when we were there, that Mom and Dad are hoping the jar never runs empty. It shouldn't. As time goes on, when memories come to mind or new ones are made, we will compose them on little folded pieces of paper. Just as dad never let the tea run out, we will not let the memories run out.
Michael with his mom and dad
This is my newest little niece. She is 6 weeks old.
He knew we'd found the perfect gift. Very quickly, he got on the internet and made plans for he and I to fly there for a surprise visit. On Christmas he called them and told them their gift would be late, that it would arrive sometime in January. On Friday the 13th, we knocked at their door. The gift had arrived.
I have to admit, the gift felt a bit selfish. Afterall, Michael and I not only had a mini-vacation, but the added blessing of seeing his parents/family, and mine as well. (I like to think of it as the gift that keeps on giving.) To me, there is no greater joy than sharing our lives and spending time with family and others.
I've mentioned the "Memory Jar" in my "Surprises" post. We saw it in person. It it a beautiful Tea Jar that sits on their coffee table. (The Tea Jar is from the memory everyone has of my Father-in-law making sun tea nearly every day in the hot Arizona summers. It usually sat on the diving board by the pool, which had to be moved when the kids wanted to swim. Dad made sure we never ran out of ice cold, refreshing tea. Before the jar in the 'fridge was empty, there'd be another one brewing in the hot sun.) The Memory Jar is stuffed with folded pieces of paper, filled with a lifetime of memories. I realized when we were there, that Mom and Dad are hoping the jar never runs empty. It shouldn't. As time goes on, when memories come to mind or new ones are made, we will compose them on little folded pieces of paper. Just as dad never let the tea run out, we will not let the memories run out.
Michael with his mom and dad
This is my newest little niece. She is 6 weeks old.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Oh Well
I may not be around for a few days. My computer is still completely hijacked. I miss my online friends. I can occasionally read message boards and can type offline and sometimes upload here. But for most everything else it has become nearly impossible. I am typing away and have to stop to shut-down the 10 or so pop-up boxes that have intruded into my space. This is so much worse than junk mail. Junk mail I can toss in the trash in one fell sweep without having to pay much attention, but this is truly aggravating, intrusive, and steals way too much of my time. And realistically, who in their right mind who go to a link on a pop-up advertising? Why would I give business to a company who would allow their advertising to come in through a virus/hacking on one's computer? Sheesh!
On a positive, Michael will hopefully get this fixed sometime next week. (Says it will take the better part of a day.) By then, my in-laws will hopefully have received their Christmas package and I can at least share some happy news on that front.
On a positive, Michael will hopefully get this fixed sometime next week. (Says it will take the better part of a day.) By then, my in-laws will hopefully have received their Christmas package and I can at least share some happy news on that front.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Early Morning
Twice this week instead of riding the bus, one kid has been running late and I've had to make the 45 minute roundtrip drive to school. Honestly, I don't mind the drive, and don't mind too much that it is at 7 instead of 6:40a.m. But the price of gas for my gas-guzzling SUV is expensive. I already have to make this drive every evening at 5 to pick up a child who stays late for extra-curricular activities.
Oh well, the view can be pretty spectacular. This pic didn't turn out so well as I took it while pulling out of the school parking lot, but it gives you an idea.
Oh well, the view can be pretty spectacular. This pic didn't turn out so well as I took it while pulling out of the school parking lot, but it gives you an idea.
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Surprises
Have you ever sat on a surprise, waiting...anticipation...excitement...the feeling that you are about to burst, or at least tell the secret? That is where I'm at, so I'm going to share about the secret, but not exactly.
For Christmas, we purchased sort of an unusual Christmas gift for my inlaws. It was an online order, and they haven't received it as of yet. It should arrive sometime this week. They know their gift is coming, and I sure hope the anticipation won't leave them disappointed. Every day I wonder, think about the coming gift and hope the surprise of it will be worth the wait. I am dying to tell all of you what that gift is, but it will have to wait until the intended recipients actually get it-just in case they might read this entry. But I can hardly stand the suspense.
Oh, and you want to hear about another really cool gift? My sister-in-law thought of this. She asked each of the grandkids to write out 10 memories of their grandparents. Each of the inlaw children (that's me) to write out 10 memories, and then each of the children to write out 30-40 memories. (Obviously, they will have more memories than anyone else.) All of these were then placed in a jar so that every day one memory could be read for the entire year. It started January 1st. My dear father-in-law has been typing them out in an email every day to share with the rest of us. It has been lots of fun.
And one of these days very soon, we'll get an email or a phone call that mentions the Christmas present. Then I can share the secret with all of you!
For Christmas, we purchased sort of an unusual Christmas gift for my inlaws. It was an online order, and they haven't received it as of yet. It should arrive sometime this week. They know their gift is coming, and I sure hope the anticipation won't leave them disappointed. Every day I wonder, think about the coming gift and hope the surprise of it will be worth the wait. I am dying to tell all of you what that gift is, but it will have to wait until the intended recipients actually get it-just in case they might read this entry. But I can hardly stand the suspense.
Oh, and you want to hear about another really cool gift? My sister-in-law thought of this. She asked each of the grandkids to write out 10 memories of their grandparents. Each of the inlaw children (that's me) to write out 10 memories, and then each of the children to write out 30-40 memories. (Obviously, they will have more memories than anyone else.) All of these were then placed in a jar so that every day one memory could be read for the entire year. It started January 1st. My dear father-in-law has been typing them out in an email every day to share with the rest of us. It has been lots of fun.
And one of these days very soon, we'll get an email or a phone call that mentions the Christmas present. Then I can share the secret with all of you!
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