I was headed for bed, really I was. Out of the corner of my eye, I see something crawling on the carpet. I'm just closing windows on the computer, to shut 'er down when it happened. I turned towards the moving as I saw it scurry under the couch. Well, maybe not scurry. Honestly, it looked like it flew, but not even a moth would fly away from light into the dark recesses of the unknown. That is more a hiding place for creepy crawly things. Or a frightened mouse. I swear, if I see a mouse, I'm getting a cat.
If this was Arizona, I would have guessed it to be a roach. I've seen monstrous cockroaches, more than 2 inches long that stand over an inch off the ground. It is hard to kill them, as the boogers are fast and crunchy to crush.
I just know as soon as my feet hit the ground to get up, whatever is under the couch will come running out where my barefeet are. It is difficult to type and watch the spot where I last saw movement. But if I fall asleep, sitting in this chair, what if it crawls up here?
What? Did I see something again? Maybe I am imagining things. My eyes are playing tricks on me. What am I going to do???
If you never hear from me again, you'll know something happened.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Saturday, October 02, 2010
Personal Space, It's A Personal Thing
Before Lauren & Christopher packed up their belongings and headed off to Korea, their liaison attempted to explain some of the cultural differences they would experience. "Be prepared to have your personal space invaded every day. The Koreans have no such thing as personal space the way Americans do."
The first week in Seoul, they began to grasp what this meant. While waiting to check out of the Apple Store, other customers began cutting in front of them, as if they were invisible. It was then they remembered advice given earlier: "if your body isn't touching the person in front of you, the Koreans won't think you are actually standing in line." They quickly cozied up to their Korean neighbors.
I am not unlike most Americans. I need personal space. I've joked before that an airplane is the only place I would willingly choose to sit so close to a perfect stranger. With only an armrest between you, random body parts of other passengers frequently cross over the imaginary line that runs between the seats. I try to become inwardly smaller, tucking my arms in my lap-especially when sitting in the middle seat. I assume my seatmates have the same need for space. I am acutely aware of where my space begins and ends. I am not a touchy-feely kind of person. I don't want to sit so that we constantly brush up against one another.
Have I mentioned how much I love Southwest Airlines? I'm free to move about the country, free to choose my own seat. When a flight is full, as most are, it doesn't much matter. Occasionally, the plane is only half full, and it is delightful to freely move about in my seat. My last flight with Southwest Airlines was delightful.
I recognized right away this would be one of those free to move about flights. Having forgotten to check in 24 hours ahead, I figured I'd be one of the last to board. I was, but I still managed a Group A board pass. There was no Group B or C. I was excited. Rather than grab a coveted aisle seat, I chose a window. Knowing I wouldn't have anyone next to me, I thought I'd snap a few pictures from my luxurious seat.
I picked a spot half-way back in the plane. I should have gone to an empty row, but instead squeezed past a gentleman in the aisle seat. I pulled out my camera and snapped a picture.
I was rather enjoying myself until I noticed a woman pushing her way into our row. The flight attendant noticed her also. "This flight is only about 60 percent full. You can sit anywhere you want. Take an aisle seat, or a window in any row. You don't have to sit next to anybody." I expected the woman to heed the flight attendant's advice. Instead, she plopped herself right in the middle seat. I immediately felt encroached upon.
I hesitated for only a moment, before gathering my belongings. "Excuse me," I said, "I'm going to sit elsewhere."
She reached over, touched my arm and tried to reassure me, "I'm a nice person, really I am." It was hard enough to maneuver around two passengers without her trying to hold me back.
"I want an aisle seat," I lied. But truthfully, I just wanted any seat where I didn't have to be touching anyone.
"You won't even give me a chance?" Her desperate last attempt, before releasing my arm. I am free to move about the cabin, lady....and I did. Seat 17C, on the aisle, 2 rows back. The entire row to myself.
I couldn't help but notice how this woman leaned into the gentleman for the duration of the flight. I surmised that she was most certainly a touchy-feely person; probably afraid to fly. She needed to be touching the people next to her in order to feel secure. I, on the other hand, needed my personal space. It's a personal thing. I couldn't help but wonder about the poor man I left behind. Maybe the two of them liked becoming more personal.
The first week in Seoul, they began to grasp what this meant. While waiting to check out of the Apple Store, other customers began cutting in front of them, as if they were invisible. It was then they remembered advice given earlier: "if your body isn't touching the person in front of you, the Koreans won't think you are actually standing in line." They quickly cozied up to their Korean neighbors.
I am not unlike most Americans. I need personal space. I've joked before that an airplane is the only place I would willingly choose to sit so close to a perfect stranger. With only an armrest between you, random body parts of other passengers frequently cross over the imaginary line that runs between the seats. I try to become inwardly smaller, tucking my arms in my lap-especially when sitting in the middle seat. I assume my seatmates have the same need for space. I am acutely aware of where my space begins and ends. I am not a touchy-feely kind of person. I don't want to sit so that we constantly brush up against one another.
Have I mentioned how much I love Southwest Airlines? I'm free to move about the country, free to choose my own seat. When a flight is full, as most are, it doesn't much matter. Occasionally, the plane is only half full, and it is delightful to freely move about in my seat. My last flight with Southwest Airlines was delightful.
I recognized right away this would be one of those free to move about flights. Having forgotten to check in 24 hours ahead, I figured I'd be one of the last to board. I was, but I still managed a Group A board pass. There was no Group B or C. I was excited. Rather than grab a coveted aisle seat, I chose a window. Knowing I wouldn't have anyone next to me, I thought I'd snap a few pictures from my luxurious seat.
I picked a spot half-way back in the plane. I should have gone to an empty row, but instead squeezed past a gentleman in the aisle seat. I pulled out my camera and snapped a picture.
I hesitated for only a moment, before gathering my belongings. "Excuse me," I said, "I'm going to sit elsewhere."
She reached over, touched my arm and tried to reassure me, "I'm a nice person, really I am." It was hard enough to maneuver around two passengers without her trying to hold me back.
"I want an aisle seat," I lied. But truthfully, I just wanted any seat where I didn't have to be touching anyone.
"You won't even give me a chance?" Her desperate last attempt, before releasing my arm. I am free to move about the cabin, lady....and I did. Seat 17C, on the aisle, 2 rows back. The entire row to myself.
I couldn't help but notice how this woman leaned into the gentleman for the duration of the flight. I surmised that she was most certainly a touchy-feely person; probably afraid to fly. She needed to be touching the people next to her in order to feel secure. I, on the other hand, needed my personal space. It's a personal thing. I couldn't help but wonder about the poor man I left behind. Maybe the two of them liked becoming more personal.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
It Was Bound To Happen, They Told Me It Wouldn't Last
We've been together for 26 plus years. Twenty-six! That is a long time for a relationship, a long time to be faithful. You've been there for me through 5 children...funny that the youngest only recently moved out. We've had our ups and downs. There were times I wished you were different, times I wanted to trade you in for something better. But because you were good to me, I didn't. Mostly I loved you. I loved that you were always the same, dependable you.
Today, something changed. You let me down. You were unfaithful. Did you not like sharing our home with my mother-in-law? Were you feeling old and decided to go out with a bang? What caused your infidelity? Honsestly, I don't even care.
Twenty-six years is a long time to be together, but I've come to a decision. I'm not going to work on this. It doesn't matter why you quit trying. It is time we parted ways. It won't be hard to replace you. I have offers pouring in already.
Right now, I miss you. I looked forward to spending time with you this afternoon. I feel only a twinge of sadness. Just yesterday, I imagined the adventure of something fresh and new. I'm a tiny bit excited.
For now, I'll say good-bye. So long, Mr. Dryer. You were good while you lasted. I hope your replacement will last as long as you did. I doubt it. They don't make dryers like they used to.
Today, something changed. You let me down. You were unfaithful. Did you not like sharing our home with my mother-in-law? Were you feeling old and decided to go out with a bang? What caused your infidelity? Honsestly, I don't even care.
Twenty-six years is a long time to be together, but I've come to a decision. I'm not going to work on this. It doesn't matter why you quit trying. It is time we parted ways. It won't be hard to replace you. I have offers pouring in already.
Right now, I miss you. I looked forward to spending time with you this afternoon. I feel only a twinge of sadness. Just yesterday, I imagined the adventure of something fresh and new. I'm a tiny bit excited.
For now, I'll say good-bye. So long, Mr. Dryer. You were good while you lasted. I hope your replacement will last as long as you did. I doubt it. They don't make dryers like they used to.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Truth Needs To Be Heard
I read critically. I refuse to be spoon fed "news" as truth. My gag reflex kicks in the moment I taste a hint of hypocrisy or distorted truth. It doesn't matter if it is liberal, conservative, trendy, or fringe writers. News used to be a reporting of events and happenings. Today it seems, everyone has an opinion. News reports are tweaked and twisted with clever words turning facts, even lies, into propaganda.
Growing up, I trusted adults. I trusted what I heard on the news or read in a newspaper. I knew the difference between an editorial and a news report. Those in authority were held in high esteem. If a president had proclaimed, "I did not have sex with that woman," it could be taken literally. In today's world, nothing is as it seems. Truth is much harder to find. I read and listen critically. It can be overwhelming and take on a cynical side if I'm not careful. I check facts and resources in search of the truth.
I was reading this text today:
"Consider the quarry from which you were mined, the rock from which you were cut! Yes, think about your ancestors Abraham and Sarah, from whom you came. You worry at being so small and few, but Abraham was only one when I called him..."
What? No way was Abraham one when God called him. He was an adult when God told him he'd make him a great nation. But actually God had planned for this even before Abraham was born, back before he was even Abram. What do you mean You called him when he was only one....oh, you don't mean one as in one years of age. You mean one as in one person. Okay. You should have said that.
It's time to get a better resource, apparently God's Word, the bible, isn't reliable.
Side note: I don't believe this version is still in print. I've had it for years, and find passages are sometimes poorly written, distorting the message. And that is my excuse for sounding a tad critical.
Growing up, I trusted adults. I trusted what I heard on the news or read in a newspaper. I knew the difference between an editorial and a news report. Those in authority were held in high esteem. If a president had proclaimed, "I did not have sex with that woman," it could be taken literally. In today's world, nothing is as it seems. Truth is much harder to find. I read and listen critically. It can be overwhelming and take on a cynical side if I'm not careful. I check facts and resources in search of the truth.
I was reading this text today:
"Consider the quarry from which you were mined, the rock from which you were cut! Yes, think about your ancestors Abraham and Sarah, from whom you came. You worry at being so small and few, but Abraham was only one when I called him..."
What? No way was Abraham one when God called him. He was an adult when God told him he'd make him a great nation. But actually God had planned for this even before Abraham was born, back before he was even Abram. What do you mean You called him when he was only one....oh, you don't mean one as in one years of age. You mean one as in one person. Okay. You should have said that.
It's time to get a better resource, apparently God's Word, the bible, isn't reliable.
Side note: I don't believe this version is still in print. I've had it for years, and find passages are sometimes poorly written, distorting the message. And that is my excuse for sounding a tad critical.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
A Lot Of Miles Left
Years ago, Michael decided our vehicles should last until they had over 100,000 miles.
Because of his great success, he vowed to keep our cars until they'd hit the 200,000 mark. I happened to be driving the Acura yesterday when this goal was achieved.
Don't ask why the brake light is on, or about that other yellow light that is illuminated all of the time. Give the car a break. It's a little tired. It's been driven 200,0003 miles.
Yes, I was driving down the highway at exactly 75 mph...ok, closer to 80. But how could I miss this momentous mile marker and not make a memory?
Michael mentioned the other day that he hoped I'd keep my car until it has at least 200,000 miles on the odometer. I about fell over laughing.
At the rate I drive, I will be exactly 81 years old when my car rolls over to 200,000 miles.
Can you imagine that?
Because of his great success, he vowed to keep our cars until they'd hit the 200,000 mark. I happened to be driving the Acura yesterday when this goal was achieved.
Don't ask why the brake light is on, or about that other yellow light that is illuminated all of the time. Give the car a break. It's a little tired. It's been driven 200,0003 miles.
Yes, I was driving down the highway at exactly 75 mph...ok, closer to 80. But how could I miss this momentous mile marker and not make a memory?
Michael mentioned the other day that he hoped I'd keep my car until it has at least 200,000 miles on the odometer. I about fell over laughing.
At the rate I drive, I will be exactly 81 years old when my car rolls over to 200,000 miles.
Can you imagine that?
Friday, September 17, 2010
Haha...It's A Cat-Face
You can't tell me God doesn't have a sense of humor, as well as creative genius.
Tell me that isn't the funniest face you've ever seen on the back of a spider.
(If you click on the photo, you can make it larger.)
Okay, call me crazy. I just checked on my spider friend. He's still hanging out. I took another picture of him. And I laughed out loud.
Seriously, is that a smile or what?
Tell me that isn't the funniest face you've ever seen on the back of a spider.
(If you click on the photo, you can make it larger.)
Okay, call me crazy. I just checked on my spider friend. He's still hanging out. I took another picture of him. And I laughed out loud.
Seriously, is that a smile or what?
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
CYE
Last week, the night before I left, Hilary sent me a text.
"Mom, check your email." Hmmm...I was curious since I hadn't spoken with her all week. I opened it up. A picture of herself opened up. I had to study it for a moment to figure out what exactly she was wanted me to see. A new haircut? Hair color?
Oh wait...a tiny diamond stud.
As Christopher said after he pierced his ears and eybrow, "it's just a college thing, ma. Be glad it isn't a tatoo." I am. And it was.
"Mom, check your email." Hmmm...I was curious since I hadn't spoken with her all week. I opened it up. A picture of herself opened up. I had to study it for a moment to figure out what exactly she was wanted me to see. A new haircut? Hair color?
Oh wait...a tiny diamond stud.
As Christopher said after he pierced his ears and eybrow, "it's just a college thing, ma. Be glad it isn't a tatoo." I am. And it was.
Monday, September 13, 2010
September 11, 2010
As I strolled through the airport, images of a high-jacked plane crashing into the twin towers was aired on t.v. monitors around the terminal. It felt funny to be flying on the 9th anniversary of that calamitous day of September 11th. I've mentioned before, I was in Arizona to attend my 30th High School Reunion. I also spent time visiting my parents, siblings and their families. We went out on my sister's boat, for the last time, as she is moving to California. My mom received some news from her doctor that she needs additional testing that we hope results in nothing serious. Emotionally I was torn in leaving. I missed my family back at home, but I would also miss my family in Arizona.
I wasn't the only one flying that day. My mother-in-law had boarded a plane earlier for a get together with her daughters. She was very excited. Two of her daughters were flying in from other parts of the country so they could all be in one place together.
Kate & Charley boarded a plane in Portland, after saying good-bye to their 7 children. Flying to Denver, with another stopover in Frankfurt, and arriving in Kiev, they would reach their final destination: a Ukraine orphanage where they hoped the adoption of two 2 special little girls with Downs Syndrome would go smoothly.
Passengers, all traveling for different reasons, not unlike those who'd boarded the fateful aircrafts 9 years earlier, but never reached their destinations. It was a poignant moment as I reflected on life around me.
I wished I'd taken more photographs, said I love you more. Would my friends and family think I was weird if I sent out a mass text message, reminding them how much I love them?
When our plane finally landed in Denver, a flight attendant came on the loud speaker and announced she'd like us all to take a moment of silence on this September 11th. And then this happened:
When the song ended, everyone clapped and cheered. Can I just say, I love Southwest Airlines?
I wasn't the only one flying that day. My mother-in-law had boarded a plane earlier for a get together with her daughters. She was very excited. Two of her daughters were flying in from other parts of the country so they could all be in one place together.
Kate & Charley boarded a plane in Portland, after saying good-bye to their 7 children. Flying to Denver, with another stopover in Frankfurt, and arriving in Kiev, they would reach their final destination: a Ukraine orphanage where they hoped the adoption of two 2 special little girls with Downs Syndrome would go smoothly.
Passengers, all traveling for different reasons, not unlike those who'd boarded the fateful aircrafts 9 years earlier, but never reached their destinations. It was a poignant moment as I reflected on life around me.
I wished I'd taken more photographs, said I love you more. Would my friends and family think I was weird if I sent out a mass text message, reminding them how much I love them?
When our plane finally landed in Denver, a flight attendant came on the loud speaker and announced she'd like us all to take a moment of silence on this September 11th. And then this happened:
When the song ended, everyone clapped and cheered. Can I just say, I love Southwest Airlines?
Friday, September 10, 2010
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
The Reunion
I spent hours agonizing over what I should wear to the reunion. Really. I honestly thought, having had 8 months to get ready for it, that I would lose a few pounds, look fab, wear a stunning outfit and wow everyone. Seriously folks, did anyone else think the same?
Hahahahaha...let's see, I didn't lose weight or wow anyone. But hey, I could still wear a nice outfit and have great hair, right? (If your hairdresser doesn't get scissor happy the week before.)
I think it was 106 degrees as I walked from the car, to the resort. I could feel trickles of sweat beneath my hair. Any minute my smooth locks would be sticking to my head or curling up. I needed to get inside to air conditioning quick. My fab heels weren't helping, especially up 2 flights of stairs.
A handful of people were taking photos outside. Not wanting to remain in the heat any longer, I kept my gaze for the door so as not to make eye contact with someone I might recognize.
The moment finally arrived. I was amongst my peers-the class of 1980. But who were these people standing around? I didn't see any of my former classmates, just a bunch of older folks. Holy cow! I didn't recognize a single one of them. And I don't believe they recognized the sweaty lady, who was more than a few pounds heavier, straight red hair instead of tight blonde curls.
It's a good thing we were given name tags with our senior photo attached. Straining my eyes hoping for a glimmer of recollection to the mored aged faces, I was left with the belief that maybe we could qualify for the senior discount.
Hahahahaha...let's see, I didn't lose weight or wow anyone. But hey, I could still wear a nice outfit and have great hair, right? (If your hairdresser doesn't get scissor happy the week before.)
I think it was 106 degrees as I walked from the car, to the resort. I could feel trickles of sweat beneath my hair. Any minute my smooth locks would be sticking to my head or curling up. I needed to get inside to air conditioning quick. My fab heels weren't helping, especially up 2 flights of stairs.
A handful of people were taking photos outside. Not wanting to remain in the heat any longer, I kept my gaze for the door so as not to make eye contact with someone I might recognize.
The moment finally arrived. I was amongst my peers-the class of 1980. But who were these people standing around? I didn't see any of my former classmates, just a bunch of older folks. Holy cow! I didn't recognize a single one of them. And I don't believe they recognized the sweaty lady, who was more than a few pounds heavier, straight red hair instead of tight blonde curls.
It's a good thing we were given name tags with our senior photo attached. Straining my eyes hoping for a glimmer of recollection to the mored aged faces, I was left with the belief that maybe we could qualify for the senior discount.
Monday, September 06, 2010
Flashbacks 3
These pics were taken in good ol' photobo
oths. Haven't seen one for awhile. Maybe they are extinct. Back in the day, I was amazed by the technology.
Really not so different from digital. While at the mall, you want a snapshot of the moment. Instead of using a cell phone, you hop in a curtained booth, freeze a pose, wait for a series of camera clicks, hang out 3 minutes, and voila! You hold nearly-instant photographs in your hand, rather than on your phone. You can quick share by handing them to whomever is standing nearby.
Sweet.
In the first series I must have been 15. That cute kid is my nephew. He has a baby of his own now. I'm wondering what I did after the first picture. Poor thing, sitting on my lap one moment, the next? Did I drop him to the floor or push his head down?
Maybe that is why I look so serious.
From experience, I learned if I smiled to too big the flash off my teeth was blinding. Talk about a shiny grill...guess I was a little before my time.
Here I am with the same nephew, Michael. I loved that kid and spent a lot of time with him.
I have no idea whose pickup truck I'm sitting in, but just about everyone drove a pickup truck in high school.
When I see Michael today, I'm going to take my picture with him.
oths. Haven't seen one for awhile. Maybe they are extinct. Back in the day, I was amazed by the technology.Really not so different from digital. While at the mall, you want a snapshot of the moment. Instead of using a cell phone, you hop in a curtained booth, freeze a pose, wait for a series of camera clicks, hang out 3 minutes, and voila! You hold nearly-instant photographs in your hand, rather than on your phone. You can quick share by handing them to whomever is standing nearby.
Sweet.
In the first series I must have been 15. That cute kid is my nephew. He has a baby of his own now. I'm wondering what I did after the first picture. Poor thing, sitting on my lap one moment, the next? Did I drop him to the floor or push his head down?
Maybe that is why I look so serious.
From experience, I learned if I smiled to too big the flash off my teeth was blinding. Talk about a shiny grill...guess I was a little before my time.
Here I am with the same nephew, Michael. I loved that kid and spent a lot of time with him.
I have no idea whose pickup truck I'm sitting in, but just about everyone drove a pickup truck in high school.
When I see Michael today, I'm going to take my picture with him.
Friday, September 03, 2010
Getting Ready.
Sitting at the airport, ready to flashback. Can't get my pics to upload. Sigh. Maybe later.
Wednesday, September 01, 2010
Flashbacks
Because I'm headed to my 30th High School Reunion this weekend, thought I'd revisit the past. This is how my classmates may remember me.
Back when I was in the 4th grade, my family moved from one small town to another. We were the new kids on the block. We rented a home with a cool, wheelchair accessible ramp out the back door. It made running outside a quick exit, with no stairs to slow us down. I don't recall who first noticed, but one cold winter night, ice had formed on the ramp. This created a spectacular downhill sliding surface.
We happened out the door this particular night, because my parents were preoccupied. They had invited guests over for dinner. As soon as the meal ended and the adults were content visiting in the living room, we slipped out back. Literally. My sister, who loved ice skating, thought that the ice should be deeper. It was so cold, that when we poured water down the ramp it froze almost instantly. It was exciting! Bucket after bucket cascaded down, until we had one of the finest ice slides ever created by kids.
Eagerly, but politely, we took turns sliding down our enormous hill-until my brother's competitive nature emerged. We ran back into the house, ever so quietly, in search of our slickest, smoothest shoes. We were going to race. I was the last one to find an old pair of boots, that were several sizes too big. My older siblings, after several runs had nearly perfected their speed by the time I snuck back outside. After what seemed forever, it was finally my turn.
Greg and I poised at the top of the slope. On your mark, get set, go! I was ahead for a split second, then my brother pushed ahead. With that push I fell face first onto the ice. I don't recall much after that. I do remember blood dripping down, and my sister holding me back from going to my mom so we wouldn't get into trouble. I think little sister went screaming to my parents and the rest is sort of blurry.
My lip was split open and it hurt pretty bad. My parents were more concerned with missing front teeth. I was whisked away, into the dark of night, to an emergency dentist. I came home with a fat lip and shiny new teeth in a sterling silver color. The next day, my brother found two teeth sticking out of the ice.
That Christmas I sang, "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth." I sang it every year. The nickname "tinsel teeth" stuck. I endured much teasing and laughter because of my metallic smile. At times I felt like a freak. I learned to smile with my mouth closed until I was 18.
I do believe God used this as a character building event in my life, creating compassion and tenderness into my heart towards others.
Back when I was in the 4th grade, my family moved from one small town to another. We were the new kids on the block. We rented a home with a cool, wheelchair accessible ramp out the back door. It made running outside a quick exit, with no stairs to slow us down. I don't recall who first noticed, but one cold winter night, ice had formed on the ramp. This created a spectacular downhill sliding surface.
We happened out the door this particular night, because my parents were preoccupied. They had invited guests over for dinner. As soon as the meal ended and the adults were content visiting in the living room, we slipped out back. Literally. My sister, who loved ice skating, thought that the ice should be deeper. It was so cold, that when we poured water down the ramp it froze almost instantly. It was exciting! Bucket after bucket cascaded down, until we had one of the finest ice slides ever created by kids.
Eagerly, but politely, we took turns sliding down our enormous hill-until my brother's competitive nature emerged. We ran back into the house, ever so quietly, in search of our slickest, smoothest shoes. We were going to race. I was the last one to find an old pair of boots, that were several sizes too big. My older siblings, after several runs had nearly perfected their speed by the time I snuck back outside. After what seemed forever, it was finally my turn.
Greg and I poised at the top of the slope. On your mark, get set, go! I was ahead for a split second, then my brother pushed ahead. With that push I fell face first onto the ice. I don't recall much after that. I do remember blood dripping down, and my sister holding me back from going to my mom so we wouldn't get into trouble. I think little sister went screaming to my parents and the rest is sort of blurry.
My lip was split open and it hurt pretty bad. My parents were more concerned with missing front teeth. I was whisked away, into the dark of night, to an emergency dentist. I came home with a fat lip and shiny new teeth in a sterling silver color. The next day, my brother found two teeth sticking out of the ice.
That Christmas I sang, "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth." I sang it every year. The nickname "tinsel teeth" stuck. I endured much teasing and laughter because of my metallic smile. At times I felt like a freak. I learned to smile with my mouth closed until I was 18.
I do believe God used this as a character building event in my life, creating compassion and tenderness into my heart towards others.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
FlashBack
I'm NEVER getting my hair cut again. I know, I've said this before here, and here. I've even given an explanation of whyI believe my hair is such an obsession. But this time I mean it. Maybe I should say I'm never getting it cut again in July or August, or right before an event. Something about the summer turns my hairdresser into a maniacal, scissor-happy producer of bad hair months.
I should have suspected this lunacy, when she told me about the latest craze. Some daytime soap star was sporting a new version of the 1970's shag and everyone was asking for it. Everyone but me.
Last month, I went in to see my hairdresser. I wanted just a trim. I finally had my hair exactly the way I wanted, just a few dry ends. I was preparing for my 30th High School Reunion. As so many of us do, I thought I'd lose weight and look amazing. That didn't happen. I reasoned that if nothing else, I could at least have fabulous hair. Back in high school, I did NOT have fab hair.
(That's me on the far right.)
Fearing the possibility of a bad haircut, I went for a trial run. It came out perfect! So yesterday, I went back for the final trim before heading to Phoenix this Friday. What happened??? She completely and totally forgot that it had taken us months to get my hair grown into LONG and almost no layers. Where did these short wispy things come from? I'm going to my 30th reunion...I don't want my hair to look like it did 30 years ago.
Sigh. Never, never again. Someone please remind me of this next summer when I want my hair to look like a million bucks.
In honor of my 30th high school reunion, this week I'm posting old pics every day. You'll have to bear with me, since a lot of the pics of me are with random boys. Apparently I spent a lot of time with boys-at least in pictures.
I should have suspected this lunacy, when she told me about the latest craze. Some daytime soap star was sporting a new version of the 1970's shag and everyone was asking for it. Everyone but me.
Last month, I went in to see my hairdresser. I wanted just a trim. I finally had my hair exactly the way I wanted, just a few dry ends. I was preparing for my 30th High School Reunion. As so many of us do, I thought I'd lose weight and look amazing. That didn't happen. I reasoned that if nothing else, I could at least have fabulous hair. Back in high school, I did NOT have fab hair.
(That's me on the far right.)
Fearing the possibility of a bad haircut, I went for a trial run. It came out perfect! So yesterday, I went back for the final trim before heading to Phoenix this Friday. What happened??? She completely and totally forgot that it had taken us months to get my hair grown into LONG and almost no layers. Where did these short wispy things come from? I'm going to my 30th reunion...I don't want my hair to look like it did 30 years ago.
Sigh. Never, never again. Someone please remind me of this next summer when I want my hair to look like a million bucks.
In honor of my 30th high school reunion, this week I'm posting old pics every day. You'll have to bear with me, since a lot of the pics of me are with random boys. Apparently I spent a lot of time with boys-at least in pictures.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
New Adventure
"Emily can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe...calm down Emily, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay...Emily can't breathe...calm down Emily..."
We met Emily last Saturday, when friends of Michael offered to take us & Ethan boating. Emily is 18 & autistic. She was excited to meet new people, seemed to enjoy the peaceful sights and sounds, wore a life jacket and a pony tail for the first time, but panicked at the uncertainty of her new adventure. At one point she seemed to get stuck on the idea that she could not breathe, yet also seemed to realize she just needed to calm down and life would be all right again.
This morning, her words sputtered repetitiously through my head, "I can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe...calm down, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay..."
We were headed up North to release Hilary into the wild of college/dorm life.
"Emily can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe...calm down Emily, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay...Emily can't breathe..." While Emily had moments of panic, Ethan loved every bit of boating life.
Adorned in his life jacket, he felt safe and secure. He laughed at the thrill of full throttle, as the wind whipped and the water splashed.
He boldly sat in the captain's chair, taking full control of the boat, navigating through deep waters. He knew his Grandpa was there to help.
Hilary's adventure is not unlike our boat ride. In spite of the tightness in my chest, I will be okay. My prayer for Hilary is that she will feel safe, secure, and confidant, knowing the Lord is her life jacket as she courageously steers through her new adventure in life, filled with thrills, new experiences, splashes of fun and ferocious learning.
Hilary is not alone in this boat.
Enjoy the ride, Hilary, we'll all be okay.
We met Emily last Saturday, when friends of Michael offered to take us & Ethan boating. Emily is 18 & autistic. She was excited to meet new people, seemed to enjoy the peaceful sights and sounds, wore a life jacket and a pony tail for the first time, but panicked at the uncertainty of her new adventure. At one point she seemed to get stuck on the idea that she could not breathe, yet also seemed to realize she just needed to calm down and life would be all right again.
This morning, her words sputtered repetitiously through my head, "I can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe...calm down, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay..."
We were headed up North to release Hilary into the wild of college/dorm life.
"Emily can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe...calm down Emily, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay...Emily can't breathe..." While Emily had moments of panic, Ethan loved every bit of boating life.
Adorned in his life jacket, he felt safe and secure. He laughed at the thrill of full throttle, as the wind whipped and the water splashed.
He boldly sat in the captain's chair, taking full control of the boat, navigating through deep waters. He knew his Grandpa was there to help.
Hilary's adventure is not unlike our boat ride. In spite of the tightness in my chest, I will be okay. My prayer for Hilary is that she will feel safe, secure, and confidant, knowing the Lord is her life jacket as she courageously steers through her new adventure in life, filled with thrills, new experiences, splashes of fun and ferocious learning.
Hilary is not alone in this boat.
Enjoy the ride, Hilary, we'll all be okay.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Love Never Fails
I stayed up late finishing this puzzle. I noticed something interesting. Do you see it?
It's there as plain as day.
Now can you make it out?
Lauren & Christopher.
Tomorrow is Lauren's birthday. Head over to her & Christopher's blog and wish her a happy birthday, will you?
Happy Birthday Lauren!
It's there as plain as day.
Now can you make it out?
Lauren & Christopher.
Tomorrow is Lauren's birthday. Head over to her & Christopher's blog and wish her a happy birthday, will you?
Happy Birthday Lauren!
Sunday, August 08, 2010
Hmmm...
Have you ever had God ask you to do something that seems odd? You say, "okay, I'll do that." But at the same time you think, "hmmm...I know there must be a purpose. This is weird. I don't understand it, but I'll do it nonetheless. But, this is a strange request."
I imagine Abraham felt something similar when God told him to sacrifice his son Isaac on the altar. "Okay, God. But, geez, I waited a very long time for your promise that I would have a son. In fact, so long that I sort of took matters into my own hands to help you out. Then, when I least expect it, like when I'm very old, and my wife is like really old, you give us this kid Isaac. And now you want me to sacrifice him??? Like I said, okay. But I really don't get it."
So, my response is: "okay God. I'll do it. And shortly, I hope to be amazed as to WHY you want me to do this."
I imagine Abraham felt something similar when God told him to sacrifice his son Isaac on the altar. "Okay, God. But, geez, I waited a very long time for your promise that I would have a son. In fact, so long that I sort of took matters into my own hands to help you out. Then, when I least expect it, like when I'm very old, and my wife is like really old, you give us this kid Isaac. And now you want me to sacrifice him??? Like I said, okay. But I really don't get it."
So, my response is: "okay God. I'll do it. And shortly, I hope to be amazed as to WHY you want me to do this."
Friday, August 06, 2010
Thunk Thursday on Friday
When I purchased my iron, I laughed when I read the attached tag:
DO NOT IRON CLOTHING WHILE WEARING
Who would do that? If somebody is dumb enough to iron their clothes while wearing them, somebody is going to get burned and has nobody to blame but herself.
Hello. My name is Somebody.
DO NOT IRON CLOTHING WHILE WEARING
Who would do that? If somebody is dumb enough to iron their clothes while wearing them, somebody is going to get burned and has nobody to blame but herself.
Hello. My name is Somebody.
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