Wait... I Have A Blog?

I am surprised how many of you have still come by to see if I have had any inspiration. Constantly surprised by my awesome friends. Thank you for not giving up on me.

I know I have appeared to just drop off the blogging wagon. I have been quite obsessed with the ease of Facebook. This is no excuse. I still need to write. I have moved my physical existence from a rent house to our first home. Having never bought a house before, I was overwhelmed. I didn't have an actual intention to buy the house until almost Valentine's Day. We signed the contract and gave our earnest money on March 9. We signed the mountain of paperwork and got funded on April 9. The beautiful house is ours, after a mere two months.



The word "overwhelmed" doesn't really cover it. I am swamped, tuckered, lost, disorganized, cluttered.... and then overwhelmed. It all looks like such a mess. I have so much stuff that seems less valuable now that it is in the new house. I have done a lot of laundry, and cleaned and organized... and it looks as if I have done nothing. I am clearly in need of a maid, storage designer, motivational speaker and life coach. Sigh. I keep plugging away at it, hoping that I can have things down to a manageable dull roar by Mother's Day, when my Mother is coming for a visit.

I asked the previous owner to trim the bushes back away from the house, so that we could get to the water access behind them. Yeah, someone really took that the wrong way. The bushes got trimmed from the front. I don't know whom to blame, because I realize that what I said was misinterpreted. I don't like the bushes, I wanted them gone anyway. But I was hoping to wait a year or two before removing them completely, and replacing them with a stone patio.

The cats have been getting used to the new place, too. They stayed in the former house for a few days longer than we and our stuff did. They came out of the safety lockdown room (old master bedroom) and looked at Jeff as if to say, "WE'VE BEEN ROBBED!!!" They spent the first two days in the new house climbing into places I won't let them go again, sniffing everything, and staring out the windows.

Marvel decided that he needed to be in the closet in the second bedroom. A bag fell, and in his efforts to escape, he got a shallow cut on his nose. Poor baby. It worries me that he was bleeding, but it stopped pretty quickly. I am hoping that he heals quickly, too. He does not like me cleaning his wound, and he will not be happy with alcohol being on the cotton ball that comes next.

Mystic has not injured herself, but has gotten to the top of the built-in bookcase, the top of our closet in the master bedroom, and the top of a bookshelf we brought in. She is a very vocal cat, walking around talking to the Ceiling Cat, or whatever she imagines is up there.

Obviously, the cats are fine. They are both crashed on the couch next to me right now. I would put a picture here of that, but the camera is in my purse, which is currently under Mystic's head.

This has been a pleasant break. I am going to get back to the cleaning and finding of places for all my junk. Thanks for checking on me. Keep coming by, anytime. I love visitors. Feel free to come find me physically, too. But if you drop by, be warned: I will put you to work!

Have a blessed day!

The Dream Is Still Alive

I was ignoring the television, playing on the computer a moment ago... and heard something that made me blink. Because of the news coverage at noon, I have had a few small epiphanies in the past few minutes.

1. Today is the Observance of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (MLK) Day. (DH doesn't have the day off, and since I don't work, I no longer keep up with such things.)

2. The famous "I Have A Dream" speech was made 45 years ago.

3. Tomorrow, we are inaugurating the first black President.

4. The "Dream" is realized, in part.

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Also on the news today at noon, Heinz is removing the pickle from its label, replacing it with a tomato. The anchor said she thought this change made sense. I think, Why? The idea of ketchup is a tomato, pickled in vinegar... right?

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I think too much about nothing worth dwelling on.

Have a good day!

A Full Plate

I often have to tell the tale of the origin of the nickname. Explaining CHELF gets my readers a little bit closer to the CHELF SPACE headline here. I think I have explained some before... but for those of you who may have forgotten, and those who have not read from the beginning, let me tell the story once more. (Oh, yeah, like I don't like talking about this!)

When I was in High School (and early in my Junior College days) I did babysitting to supplement my income from my first job. My favorite charge was a little girl named Amber. Now, Amber was VERY smart. Quick. Not just a kid who talked early, but one who comprehended more deeply at a younger age than other children around. Logic was obvious in her little two year old brain.

Our story begins with Amber being my rag doll. I carried that child all over our church building. Her mom would play "Who's Got You?" with her when she was with someone else. One day, I was holding Amber, and Mommy asked "Who's got you?"

Amber had made a point to try to say my name. Michelle is actually almost as hard as saying J names... it is long, and has a difficult transition in the middle. I had decided that maybe using the nickname I used in High School might work easier, Chelle. Just say Michelle and take out the MI. Chelle, like a sea Shell. Amber had decided somehow that my name needed an F on the end. It sounded better to her. It seemed to flow off her tongue. Chelf. With this in mind, I will tell you now that this time she answered with a huge sigh and a big hug around my neck, and she told her mom, "MY Chelf!"

I don't know when the idea really came to me, but I know that I chose to spell the nickname the way I do in order to put it on a license plate some day. When DH bought his little red hatchback, before we were married, I informed him of my dream. The very first all MY NEW CAR needed to have a special license plate that would say... you guessed it! MYCHELF!

This week, my dream was realized.



Now I think about Hammy the Squirrel in Over The Hedge: "Kinda anti-climactic."

I have been wanting not only the tag but the new car to put it on for more than 16 years. Amber is now in her Freshman year in college someplace. (I hear she graduated with honors near the tippy top of her class.) I have been working and saving and thinking toward this goal for a very long time. I haven't had my husband as long as I have sheltered this dream.

So, I had to share my joy today! This is a cliche', a dream come true. With pictures! Thank you for sharing in this silly joy of mine.

Belated Welcome To 2009

I have not gotten very good at updating.

I went back and read the first entry of 2008. It has been a year of changes, a year of ups and downs. A year of abundance. So, I decided to put down some new goals. I need accountability buddies this year! Volunteers need to state their intentions in the comments. Please?

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Last year: Each year, I resolve to be more organized. It lasts anywhere from two days to three months, depending on the specific exercise I am thinking about.

This year: I am thinking actually about exercise. I have joined a gym with my DH, and we are going to work out and swim together this year. His membership was paid by his boss, and mine was a discount addition to it. I am looking forward to slimming down, but getting healthy is way more important than the numbers on the clothes or off the scale. I want to be able to walk up a flight of stairs and not be breathless at the top. This is costing money, so it is more important to me. It hurts if I don't use it, for the value. I hope to keep using this.
~~~
Last year: I also get my book list started each New Year's weekend....I would like to read through the complete Bible this year.

This year: I want to sell the books and movies that I want to weed out of our collection. I want to remove any media with cursing in it, or immoral situations that are overt and grotesque. (Easier said than done, because of some of our favorites have lots of language.) I have 17 versions of the Bible, and I am planning on studying more than reading.
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Last year: This year, I have also resolved to get the house clean. Cleaner. To work on cleaning the house more often. Yeah.

This year: I wish to clear the clutter. Keeping the dishes done, and staying on top of the mountains of laundry seems overrated. But if I clear out the stuff I don't use, maybe I can keep the space more clean.
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Last year: ...I resolve to blog more. I have been leaving this poor pet alone for a week at a time, and that is just not friendly.

This year: Same song, next verse. I already promised to work on this again. Much like organizing and exercising, I can do this. But keeping up with it after about May is tough. It shouldn't be... this is a way to share with YOU, my friends.
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Last year: I don't usually like to "resolve" anything; other than fights, anyway.

This year: I have always made a point to NOT make resolutions. I think that serves governments better than individuals. I prefer this year to simply BE resolute.
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Have a great 2009!
God Bless You.

The Winds And The Waves

I have to admit that Facebook has taken way too much of my time lately. I love talking, and the chat function allows me to chat with people in other states and even other countries, with no extra programs on my computer. Unfortunately for you, I have rather ignored my blog. I never run out of things to talk about, but to write it all down takes a long time for me. I do a lot of self-editing. There are drafts that you have never seen, because I used Blogger to clear my mind, not to write for publication.

I am catching up with so many people that I had lost touch with. Honestly, I was thinking about not trying to find friends from High School, because I kept up with the two or three people who really meant something to me. The rest were... stuck in the yearbooks. But then a few of my old friends found me. It just goes to show that I cannot, should not, make assumptions about my former life.

I have a host of excuses, and none of them says why I am in a funk. I don't really know myself. I just know that I am hoping to make the next year a little more interesting and a lot less sporadic. Some Word of the Posts, some pictures, not so many monologues of craziness.

Do you make resolutions? I have always made a point to NOT make resolutions. I think that serves governments better than individuals. I prefer this year to simply BE resolute. I want to do things with intention. I want to make my time on the internet productive and useful... even profitable, if I can. I want to spend more time in God's Word. I want to read more and watch TV less. I want to move more. I want to spend time in true, meaningful meditation. I want to do more with less.

I want others to know that I serve God, and Jesus is my savior. I want them to know the joy that has brought to my life, not the misery that I have put upon my own shoulders. I want to learn about faith and other things in life from my cats. I want to share what I learn with you. I want to learn from each of you.

As 2008 slows to a halt, and 2009 winds up in preparation to fly, I wish for you the Peace that passes all understanding. We may not live in a peaceful world, but His Peace will calm us in the eye of the storm. Please enjoy this song by Scott Krippayne. (I found a fan video on You Tube.)



P.S. Marvel is snoring. Have you ever heard a cat snore?

Beware Of Splinters

Word of the Post
Today's word is: dichotomy
/die*cot"o*me/ noun
To cut in two; a division in equal parts; duality; ambivalence.
Knowing the selfish way and the ideal way, but having a balanced argument within yourself to decide which to follow. The brain is comprised of a dichotomy of left and right. Equal and opposite.
The trouble with a dichotomy is that riding the fence is also a decision.
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I have always known I would have many, many children. They don't have to be physically mine to be "my babies". My plan was to have my own boy and girl, in that order, and then adopt as many as God brought to me. My friend Rob once told me that I was destined to have a girl and then twin boys, for patience. (Cursed sounded more like it back then.) I have since learned that the twin boys did not have to be mine, either. The patience that was built in me may have been for their mother.

Oddly, my dream the other night brought this freshly to mind. The dream was that I had to deal with a specific and unpleasant person from my past. I felt attacked and beaten when I awoke on Sunday. I certainly wasn't prepared to run headlong into a difficult person at church services. (Not the same one I dreamed about, though.)

There are those people who, when given the opportunity to be sweet, will usually choose to be salt in your open wounds. The busybody person who starts every conversation with an offensive question. It makes me wonder why. Does she feel trapped by her responsibilities, and jealous of my freedoms?

Oh, the sarcasm jumps out of me, usually at the worst possible times. It takes a lot of control to keep the words from falling out of me. Every meeting starts with the intrusive "I don't mean to be nosy, but when are you going to have kids?" (If you don't want to be nosy, then please do not finish that thought.), the rude "Don't take this the wrong way, but you need to have children to know about this subject" (Taking those rude statements the wrong way is taking them in what way exactly? How can I take it well to hear that motherhood is some elitist club that refuses to even talk to me?), or my personal favorite "Why didn't you come to Bunco? It wasn't someone in particular, was it? It wasn't me, was it?". (I didn't come to Bunco because it is not the escape I was hoping for. I couldn't escape from you.) I want to scream at her. I can't say these things I think. Too rude, uncalled for. Snappy, but not Christlike.

She now lives in another city. When we see each other, our conversations now consist of the basic "Hi, how are you?". Neither of us cares, and answering "Fine." is the only non-involved, not lying, tactful-without-being-rude answer. Much beyond that, and we are both at a loss for words. I am still without children of my own, and she is still the "perfect" mother of "perfect" twins.

Forgiveness is tough. I know I should forgive her. I don't think she knows how hurtful she really is. I know I should be honest with her, not start with the hateful lashing back that comes to my tongue first. The dichotomy is that I don't want to. I have been hurt, and I still hurt from those wounds. They are fresh, deeply intensely personal, and she continually (while assuming she is helping) is pouring lemon juice on those open emotional sores.

I have "babies" that have graduated college, some were their High School class Valedictorians; are caring and wonderful young adults, and some are still truly babies just beginning the journey; I have seen many styles of parenting; had wonderful conversations with mothers who don't care that I am not a "mother" by the birth of a child, but a "mothering person" by the nature of the love for children. I am a Babysitter of as many as five children at a time, a Teacher to the small, and an Auntie to the two greatest kids to ever live.

Can't I be a pretzel? A little sweet and a little salty. One of my friends told me recently that she had just left church, and was not feeling very Christian right then. She was dealing with a difficult person, too. Those answers are out there, and I continue to look high and low for them. Surprisingly, I bet they are right in front of me. I think I ignore the answer. It is way easier to pretend that everything is OK, when I know it isn't.

The struggle to be true to myself and God's best me is constantly being tested. It may never be my calling to be a mother, like I have so wished for. It may just be that my calling is coming in the future. This must be teaching me patience. Maybe this is for more than myself. It may be that my calling is to be patient with the salty people of the world, that they may learn to be sweet.

This Dream Was Played In Technicolor Brilliance

I never sleep well when the weather changes quickly. I can sleep through an ambulance blaring past my window, a lot of neighborhood dogs barking, and any alarm clock ever made. I cannot sleep through wind without rain, a male speaking my name, or a ringing telephone. This morning, rainclouds moved in. I had no sunshine to remind me to get up. I had the soft sounds of "rain on the plain" to keep me in my slumber. This morning, I could not sleep through to the end of my dream. I awoke with a terrible backache. Serves me right for stressing in my sleep, I guess.

Let me set the stage. It was a not yet dark, and kinda stormy night. The "gangstas" were all out, and trouble brewed a palpable haze over the city. My friend was having a birthday. I went to a Wal-Mart to get her a card.

I had gone shopping downtown (anyone who knows me knows that I avoid downtown like the plague, so here we have fiction) to get a birthday card for my friend, and look at gifts, too. It started raining outside, and then inside (great neighborhood, let me tell ya). I had several blocks to walk, and a couple of turns to get back to my car. Here is where the stress builds, the music does the Dunnn-dun-duh that tells you not to go where you are going. I couldn't find my car. I couldn't remember which car I had driven there. I couldn't remember where I parked. I was searching the streets for one silver Chevy Malibu or one silver-blue Honda Fit. Yep, my dreams are at least up to date.

So, for the next three or so imagined hours, I am carrying two bags from my shopping, searching for one of my two cars. I casually stood in a line (I suppose to get into the dance club I was walking past) and ended up walking/riding in a car with three gang members. I was afraid to say much, because they might kill me. We walked or rode past a lot of fights. Viscious children. I watched them steal another car (a trap, but that is because I saw the guy who owned the car waiting for them to take it, so he could call the cops). I refused to ride in that one.

In the end, I remember one really creepy detail, and I am right now copyrighting this dream, so don't get any ideas about using it, OK? And, for My First Nicki Friend in parts East, you may want to stop reading this post now. Trust me. No more. Go back and read another post, find one about the Niecephews. You will regret it if you read further. Just warning you. It creeped me out, and I am the one who imagined it. OK, now that we have that cleared up and Nicki is still reading just for curiosity's sake...

One of the male gang members (There were three, one girl, two guys) tossed a spider at me, to test me. I remember it was dark brown and kinda scary looking. I somehow caught it in the hood of my jacket, and tossed it back at him, with a snide remark. That would have been clever of me. But... he was starting to talk when I flicked the spider, and it went in his mouth. (I will wait while everyone screams, cringes, and generally wonders if I have lost my marbles.) I was too grossed out to finish that thought, even in the dream. Ugh. The next scene is me asking where a park is, because that is near where I knew I parked the car.

This incomplete thought brought to you without commercial interruption by the Mind of Chelf, Nighttime Edition. It is completely fiction, because she would never shop downtown (where there isn't a Wal-Mart handy) and she would never go in the dark to a dangerous area BY HERSELF, and then simply "forget" where her car is. The moral of the story is this: Don't shop last minute for a card. It might get you killed, in dreams and in the real world. You really can never know.

I hear that if you dream your death, you really die. That sounds too scary to suggest to the Mythbusters. I wouldn't want them to try it, because there is really no safe way to test it, and no way to be certain. Who would say that, anyway? Did they (the mysterious "they" everything gets blamed on... and who are "they", really?) get revived from a death-dream to tell us that they dreamed it?

So, there you have it. I have creepy dreams that don't seem to mean much. I have aspirations that are tough and time consuming. I have lots of things I am capable of, but don't know how to start. So, I need to apparently write for some horror film now. I could make money, if I tried. I could write my dreams into horror movies; I could build a purse that actually holds stuff without being too big or heavy to begin with; I could name a few Ty Brand (Should that have the little TM symbol near it? I don't know how to do that with a keyboard.) Beanie Babies. My personal favorite fantasy future jobs are these: I could do voices for cartoon movies, probably with PIXAR/Disney (mostly because it is PIXAR, not because it is Disney); I could proofread for publishing houses back east by telecommuting (first reader has also been suggested to me); I could write.

I am not really awake yet, even half an hour later. I am not a morning person. The fact that I remembered this much of the dream, and communicated it in a mostly coherent fashion is some serious morning mojo I am not used to.

I am off to make something warm to drink. Beware to any little buggie that tries to cross my path today. The adrenaline and fear are still in me.

How was your weekend?

Numerology In The Bible

Word of the Post
Today's word is: triskaidekaphobia
/tris*kahy*dek*uh*foh"bee*uh/
noun
A morbid fear of the number 13.
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I often wonder if I am making any difference in this world. I try to educate whenever possible. I like to joke with people, but I know when it is the time to be serious. I have made an effort to show mercy whenever the opportunity arrives. Sometimes I wonder if anyone really notices.

Throughout my life, I have met many highly educated people. Each had a different background, a different goal in life. But not many have stopped to ponder small things with me.

On Wednesday this week, the 11th of April, 2007, I was granted a compliment from one of those educated people. Mr. James O. Baird, III (Professor of Evidences of Christianity at Oklahoma Christian University's Bible College, Doctor of Theology from Oxford), was talking to DH. "I like the way your wife thinks." I am sure it was a small thing to him, but it was an honor I did not expect. It humbles me to think that I have spoken so well, thought so much, to be considered thoughtful by such an educated man.

You see, we had been in our Wednesday night Bible study class, and we were talking about King David. The only man to be called "after God's own heart". We were considering what this meant, because of the many bad episodes in David's life. We found that the good really did offset the bad. David was willing to repent for his many sins. He always knew when he had gone too far, and God honored him for it.

We then moved to the New Testament, and the descriptions of Jesus. This starts with the three promises made to Abraham. 1. You will have the land. 2. You will be a great nation. 3. Your seed will be a blessing to all the nations. For his obedience, God gave David another promise: 4. Your Seed (Jesus) will be on the throne FOREVER.

In Matthew 1:17, the generations are counted. From Abraham to David, fourteen generations. From David to Babylonian captivity, fourteen generations. From Captivity to Jesus, fourteen generations. Add all those generations up, you get 42. Which, if you will recall with me, is The Answer for everything. (To really get this, you must read or see the movie of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy)

On Sunday, previous to this, we had been studying the Revelation of John chapter 11. This is full of numbers that seem strange at first, but consider with me further.
Rev. 11:2 - 42 months.
Rev. 11:3 - 1260 days (equal to 42 months).
Rev. 11:9 - three and a half days (42 months is 3 1/2 years, I think this may be related).
Rev. 12:6 - foretelling the birth of the Christ, mother nourished for 1260 days (again 42 months).

Now, I don't claim to know the mind of God. I don't think that it is coincidence that I was shown both of these things in such close proximity. This seems to be a poetic statement. Jim said on Wednesday that Matthew was figuratively beating people over the head with this significant number, because this is the number to show the earthly descent of Jesus from David. This is the one you are looking for, here is the proof!

I spoke to Jim after the class, and pointed out the similarities in Revelation and Matthew, and how the two lessons connected. He was astonished that he had not noticed, as he was the one who prepared both lessons.

Numbers are important. Record keeping and math and finance, and even computer technology, all rely on numbers. Patterns or sums of numbers. Those numbers are part of God's plan. I think He put them in the Bible for us to notice. It is no accident. This universe has a plan, a Creator. He is the perfect 3 in 1, gave us to the count of 42, and sent us the 1 who would take us home. If you count Matthias, Jesus had 13 apostles. He even defeated the 666. Now watch, the stairway to Heaven will have 13 steps. Wouldn't that be funny?

And they say numerology is a bunch of bunk!

Stars Shining Bright Above You...

Word of the Post
Today's word is: dream
/dreem/
Verb: To dream; have ideas or images in the mind while in the state of sleep.
Noun: The dream; the vision seen while sleeping.
"There sober thought pursued the amusing theme, Till Fancy colored it and formed a dream." ~~Pope. {1913 Webster}
Dreams can be effected by indigestion, a late supper, fitful thoughts of something unresolved, or by simply picturing a new thought in the mind before falling to sleep. Mine usually involve running away from something on the top of a skyscraper or dull conversation that will happen in 13 years or so.
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Dreams are a different sort of experience. Some can be forgotten with the waking breath, some stick in your mind like nails in a wall.

I was shopping in a mall in Wichita. I got somehow shuffled into applying for a job in a Hallmark shop. There were about 10 of us, men and women, who were there. Most of them were girls younger than me. We spent a whole afternoon playing around, some inside the dark halls of the "employees only" underbelly of the mall, and some outside in a mess of leftover mush from a recent snowstorm. We were supposed to be watched by the manager, who couldn't have managed a vending machine.

We moved indoors to a large hall of small conference rooms that were decorated quite nicely. Told to wait, we piled into a room where there was just enough seating for 8 of us. Thankful that two were immediately pulled away, we talked about nothing important. We were directed in one by one to be interviewed by one of a lottery of different people. This room looked like a large classroom, with about 6 circular tables, and as many interviewers. My person was a writer for Broadway Plays. There was also her partner, who was more loud than the first; a man who looked like a Kindergarten teacher (he was asking how many children each person had, and if they knew how to calm a room full of children); an artist (who apparently drew my picture-question); and one woman who looked a lot like the boss I didn't like at a job I had a few years ago.

My first question was a picture. The picture was a colored pencil drawing of 6 or 7 tall thin women in dresses somewhat like flappers, and they were all lounging in a room. I was asked which one jumped out at me as significant. I answered with a green one that was to the right of center. She was the only one that looked... real. She had green and cream on her dress. She was in front of a woman in a pearl colored dress, who looked mean. I noticed that the interviewer wrote down on her card that I was exactly what she was looking for.

She liked me a lot, but I finally told her that I did not live in Wichita, and if the store was not willing to let me telecommute, I was not interested. It seemed a shame to tell her that I could not work, because I had other things to do, different goals in mind.

I awoke before I could find out if I would have been telecommuting to proofread Hallmark cards. I woke with two depressing realizations: 1. That this was a wasted-time dream, I learned nothing from it, and I was still tired. and 2. That I need to stop eating so late. It gives me strange dreams.