Today Is The Day

Today is the day that I get up before 10, because I have things to do.
Today is the day that I find the smell in the kitchen, and clean it.
Today is the day that I do all the laundry in the house, and get it folded and put away.
Today is the day that I clean the living room, and set up the couch pieces that currently reside in the garage.
Today is the day that I call a service to clear trees in my back yard, trim/remove bushes in the front yard, and get some sod to resurface the yard.
Today is the day that I find a tile guy to redecorate the bath. Maybe he can frame the garage door on the side of the house, too.
Today is the day I stop wasting money on the gym I never bother to go to anymore.
Today is the day that I blog again.
Today is the day that I finally start up my novel.... again.
Today is the day that I stop eating for two, even though I am not pregnant.
Today is the day that I allow myself to say NO when someone asks me to do something I am not really wanting to do.
Today is the day that I stop making lists, and start working.

I think about many of these things every morning. And I get up out of bed. And I sit down in my spot on the couch, and open the computer. And it is then that I realize my addiction. I haven't blogged for MONTHS, I haven't cleaned beyond what is necessary to live, I haven't done much of anything! I have stared at Facebook. Whew! Need to stop that now.

This blog post will probably be posted to Facebook, as well. Why? Because I am that addicted.

In my professional life, I have almost always had a clean desk. It may be stacked with work, but I can always find the random piece for someone else. In my personal life, I can't say anything about organized. I have never had a good routine at home. I noticed that when I worked outside the home, the home was cleaner. I had to keep a routine!

When I was a child, our home was always cluttered. Mom and Dad both were pack rats in their own ways. Mom was a Collector, and I have that strong gene in me. I want this thing because it will match/coordinate with X, Y and Z at home. Dad was the Insulator, the one who said, "This is useful, and if I throw it out, I will need it tomorrow. I can fix that." Mom had Coca-Cola memorabilia all over the house, and a collection of lighthouses, and the collection of videos. The list grows larger every time I see what I brought home from her house. I have cookbooks, and books of every other sort. I have Precious Moments figurines, and things I have collected over the years since I left home. I also have broken computers, and parts to things I don't even remember a use for.

I can remember a time when my room was the cleanest in the house. It was a very short time. And probably right before I left for college.

All this rambling is to say that I have let the house run away without me. I have no control over the contents. The S.T.U.F.F. (from Flylady: Stuff That Undermines Family Fun) has taken over, multiplied like so many bunnies, and I am feeling crushed.

Today is the day. Today is another day in which I spend a minimum of 15 uninterrupted minutes cleaning ONE area. Dishes, probably. Sadly, Laundry and Dishes are my go-to chores. The first things I do, until I get tired and give up. I also have a goal of emptying one box. Open it, decide where things go and put them there, fold box flat and take it to my friend who is packing her home to move. Trash things... Donate things... Clean things... Find purpose or love in every THING I keep.

Psalm 118:24 (English Standard Version)

This is the day that the LORD has made;
let us rejoice and be glad in it.

So, Today is The Day.

Today is the day that I stop worrying about what others think.
Today is the day that I give up hounding myself over chores undone.
Today is the day that I allow myself to make mistakes, and be fine with that.
Today is the day that I write again.
Today is the day that I think again.
Today is the day that I water the plants. Hey, I have plants... that have survived me for over a year!
Today is the day that I stop allowing the rabbit trails to distract me.

Today is the day that I thank God for every thing I have, all I can do.
Today is the day that I expect great things from God.

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!

Change Is A-Coming.... There Are Term Limits, After All

I am watching the Presidential Debate, and I am about to cry. This is a contest of the poo-flinging monkeys. Nobody wins, and they both get dirty. I want to quote Glenn Beck. I once heard him say that he had "de ja moo. The feeling that we have heard this bull before." I am seriously sick of it. I get tired of the name dropping and the mud slinging.

Either way, "change" is on our horizon. Bush is out, and someone else is in. I think this contest is going to be more a popularity contest, and I have to say I am afraid that the greatest country in the world is in trouble, no matter who wins. If McCain wins, he will be blocked at every turn by a Democrat controlled Congress, and then blamed for the failures that happen. If Obama wins, Socialism takes over, and "the working man" he says he will help will be carrying the national debt on his shoulders. (Worst of all, I will have to find a job again. The scream will be heard round the blogs...) (Note the sarcasm. You won't be able to hear the screams, silly.) This election has gotten off track and out of context. There is more hearsay than actual ideas, and nobody really knows anything about the actual intent of the administration.

The most important part about it to me is that the only day that matters is Tuesday, November 4th. These talks will not change my mind significantly. I doubt that anyone who has made up their mind can truly be swayed now. The debates will only solidify the opinions already in the minds of the staunch. The goal is for the candidates to sway the undecided voters. Unfortunately, smooth talking will get a lot of votes for the liar who won't really say what kind of "change" he intends to inflict on us. I will leave it up to you to decide which candidate I speak of. (because I am not sure either...)

I have tried to stay neutral here on the blog, but it is no secret that I support Conservative talk radio in my area, and I am a Conservative in my personal views. I won't try to lobby for your vote to my side... just that you vote. If you don't vote, you cannot complain. I can complain all I want, and I should complain to the people who can do something about it. After all, they are there to represent me. I think of The Princess Bride: "Have I made it clear that your JOB is on the line?!?!?"

I have heard somewhere in my educational years that the average life-span of a world power is 200 years. We do all realize that the U.S. is at 232, right? Alright, enough of that. You have your opinons and I can't change them. You are probably as tired of this as I am, anyway. Right?

I am a Football Widow again for the High School season. I have not yet seen the score for DH's High School. I don't know if there is a final yet. Some games are Thursday, most on Friday. He usually keeps tabs on it. I have been looking on Facebook for friends from other places. I have been watching the debates (not going back to that). I have been reading. I have not been paying attention to football. {Edit: DH came home and said that his school lost. Lost big. *sniff*}

DH also has a friend who is taking him to a college game tomorrow. Unfortunately, the game is for the other team. DH likes OU, the University of Oklahoma. Crimson and Cream. The game he is going to see (free ticket, so we don't complain) is OSU, Oklahoma State University. Ugly orange. The rivals. I lose him for another night this week. Which is fine. I can go shopping, watch the newest "chick flick", and listen to Country music all night. I should probably have a "Hubby-proofed" dinner of rice with Broccoli in it, too.

I have been reading the newest book in the Inheritance Cycle, Brisingr. This is the third book by Christoper Paolini, and has cover art by John Jude Palencar. I have had a good time with these books, because Paolini made up his own languages, and started all of this when he was still in High School. He was self published before being discovered and nationalized. I wanted to go to the Midnight Release at my local Books A Million, but I was in TX for DH's great uncle's funeral. Roadrunner went, but I haven't had a chance to talk to her about the "event". The cashier that helped me when I picked up my copy was... less than enthusiastic. It was apparently not really popular, nothing like the Harry Potter Midnight Releases. Roadrunner was done with the book in two days. This does not surprise me. She reads faster than I do. Which, is pretty amazing. I just wish I could recall more of what I read. She helps me actually retain what I read, because we discuss.

I have been killing house flies all day long. No less than 20, and I know there are still two or three floating around here, because I just saw one on the television. I have no idea where they are all coming from. I can't blame them, really. I did make some awesome banana bread muffins yesterday evening. I have been cooking more often, to save money and to eat healthier.

I have been thinking about coloring my hair again. I like going a little lighter than my naturally dark brown, and lot more auburn. I have one prominent WHITE strand in my bangs, and it has started to bother me. I don't really know why. In the past, I thought of it as a personal rite of passage. I don't know why that little hair should cause such a stir, or why the stir comes now. It is so selfish and childish and vain. The hair glares at me. Brightened, magnified, by the flourescent bulbs over the bathroom mirror. Maybe it is my addiction to Alias, and Jennifer Garner's beautiful brunette tresses. Maybe it is my own desire to keep the public image of youth. Maybe it is just me being a girl.

Veni, Vidi, Venti

Word of the Post
Today's word is: tschotschke
/chach"keh/ noun
From Merriam-Webster online at http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/tchotchke
Yiddish for trinket, from obsolete Polish czaczko. Useless bauble, pretty but trivial. Cheap gewgaw.
When I got married, my friend told me she wanted to get me something useful, not some tschotschke that would be gathering dust on a shelf I didn't have.
~~~~~~~~~~~
First of all, thank you all. For caring about me, and really paying attention to my blabbering. It is refreshing and very important to me.

For those of you sweet enough to suggest that Mom find a new doctor, I regret to inform you that Farmington, New Mexico isn't the biggest town, and no, there is no other specialist that she can see there. To get another requires a different city. Albuquerque is probably the biggest and nearest option, but that would require a lot of driving that she can't do, or moving the household that Dad can't do for another 4 years (when he can collect the retirement money he has worked so hard to earn!). I do have my buddy, Stacey, who offered to be the bully in my place. I may have to talk to her about that. You would think that I knew enough nurses in Farmington, I could find one to really help my mom. I wish that her insurance would still pay for the Home Health Nurse that was coming to clean her foot once a week. She was friendly, and offered to draw blood for mom's labs the day before a doctor visit, and was just so helpful. She called herself a "mosquito" compared to the "vampires" at the clinics.

It isn't really that Mom is getting deficient care. She has been sufficiently cared for when she sees the doctors, and when she has been in the hospital. It is that she is not receiving information up front. She has to find out about available information from other sources, and beg the doctors' offices for it. Free information that could help her understand what is going on with her kidneys, and what it means to be on dialysis for the rest of her life, what is involved with getting a new kidney by transplant. Information that I have come to feel that they should be giving her. She has been frustrated not to receive it until (in some cases after) it was vital to her treatment.

If this was some unknown virus or rare disease, I could see the doctors not sharing information, because they may not know it. In the case of a normal diabetic woman having a normal kidney failure, I am infuriated that they have not told her more, as far back as 10 years ago. She has been in the hospital several times in the past five years or so, and more than once, they feared for her life. They (the hospital staff) didn't recommend to my Dad and Bro that they call me. They (again, the hospital staff) never tried to contact me. Bro usually called, wanting me to know, and knowing that Dad may not need to be the one calling me because he was caring for his wife. At the same time, they (Bro and Dad) always told me not to come yet. I guess they wanted to save me a trip when I could do nothing to improve the situation. That excuse won't last forever.

Flea, I have to tell you, I had nothing personal against the little opossum. He/she was just another thing that ran away from the light. I don't set out to destroy anything. Stuff like spiders, ants, mosquitoes, June bugs and other flying insects or creepy crawlies have to invade my space first, and by doing so, invite Death to the party. Although I would be the first to shoot a squirrel if I could get away with it within City limits. They have put holes in my roof which became holes in my ceiling. I would love to pelt them all (That is funny, pelt. That is what DH and I say about dead things in the road...we call them all pelts. Um... I guess the pun was intended.) with paint balls or pellets. I would have the dogs in the neighboring yards cheering me on.

Instead of Complaining, I need a really big Smooffee.

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.
~~~~~~~~~~
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?

Oh, I Believe In Yesterday, Too, Sir Paul!

Honestly, this was a few days ago, but the joke and the memory will warm my insides for a while.

August 5, Sir Paul McCartney was in my beloved home town. He ate at a restaurant in Bricktown that I (cannot afford) have not tried, and he stayed the night in an historic hotel that I (may never have the pleasure of seeing at all) have only seen in pictures.

We have a local free paper called Oklahoma Gazette. They have a section of odd, political, humorous, or just plain crazy news that happens in or to Oklahoma, called Chicken Fried News. In CFN, they titled this bit "Live and Let Dine". Aren't they clever? While I think they made much ado about nothing, they were not alone. By 4 pm, the local talk radio station I chat over... er... listen to, was bragging about it at every news break. Every ten minutes, I hit the mute button for a few moments. Unfortunately for KTOK, they stayed mute most of the afternoon.

Rumor has it that Sir Paul ate quiche, special ordered from a list in his head that was not on the menu. I suppose when you make enough money to own Bricktown, you can order whatever you wish, no matter what the menu offers. Our chat group discussed this for a few moments. Most of us, while wondering if he would be willing to stand on the top of the shortest building in the area and play a few songs and sign a few autographs, were asking the obvious questions. Was he a jerk or a nice guy? How long would he stay? Why was he in town? How much did he tip the waiter? Important things, wouldn't you agree?

Rumor also has it that the tip will cover said waiter's household expenses for a significant amount of time. I bet he got more for NOT being a stupid crazed fan in front of the new girlfriend. I would certainly expect no less.

I have never been the screaming teen type of starstruck fan. Ask Wes McKenzie. I offered him a Dr. Pepper when a bunch of us were watching a movie one night, and he was slaving away in the radio station on campus at O.C. I bet without my hubby nearby, he doesn't even know who I am. (Ferret and I tried to hide in his apartment once during a tornado, because he was downstairs, and her apartment was upstairs. He may remember that...) But I know that he once sang bass with AVB. My only wish when I came to O.C. was to sit in chapel someday with Rodney Britt on one side of me, and Wes McKenzie on the other, and let the two greatest bass singers I have ever met rattle me out of my chair. I like sitting next to DH in church, because he sings bass too. Bro is a good singer, and he and DH have flanked me, and we had Mac Daddy sitting behind us. Mac Daddy has more projection than DH has, but they both can sing equally low, deep and rattling.

I have always figured that celebrities are people. They just want to be talked to, respected and treated with the dignity us poor folk should give any peasant or king. I don't like to be screamed at, why should they like it? I said on August 5 that I would have expected a big tip from Sir Paul, had I been that wait person. The standard 15-20% plus a little somethin'-somethin' for not being a crazy weird autograph hound.

I have met a few celebs in my short life. You may or may not have heard of Sandy Fries. Yes, it is spelled like French Fries, but pronounced Freeze. Any guesses as to whom he is? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? He is a writer, and he wrote one whole episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation for Will Wheaton. It was called Coming of Age, and it first aired in March of 1988, which makes it now 20 years ago. One of the Directors or Creators came to him and said something short and simple like... "Wesley Crusher is going to Starfleet Academy. Go." What a bundle of inspiration! I met him and got his autograph when he came to Farmington, NM to speak at San Juan College about Creative Writing, back in my early college days in the early 90's.

I have an autographed picture of Mark Lowry. I spoke to him personally, and we shared a laugh. I was working at Glory Be! Christian Books and Gifts in Farmington, and he came to do a concert. My friend Kim P. and I both went. I had met her working for the Hallmark store in the mall, and we became fast friends as sisters in Christ. This was his Mouth In Motion tour, and he sang "Mary Did You Know". He wrote the lyrics! If you ever hear Kenny Rogers and Wynonna Judd sing this one, it will make chills run up and down your spine. Seriously. Stirring and thoughtful song. His opening act was a little girl who had such a powerful voice. Her stage name was JoAnna Rae, and she had the vocal power of Whitney Houston, and the range (that young voice) of Mariah Carey. She was about 9 years old at the time, and so tiny. Mr. Lowry was blown away, as were most of the audience.

I met also at a concert in Farmington, the singer (Insert Memory Card here...). {Edit: Found it! The memory engram was found, and now has been uploaded. His name was Grover Levy.} He was signing CD's well into the night. The package came with a music CD and a DVD Rom of extras. I told him that the second disc did me no good, as I didn't have a computer. He said, "That's OK, I don't either!" He was a teacher, and used some of his students in his songs. He was the most friendly of that concert. Margaret Becker was rude to my brother that day. He had worked his tush off carrying her equipment into the Civic Center, and had helped her crew set it up and later helped to tear it down. The least she could have done was smile, say thanks, and not be offended when someone asked for an autograph. She didn't even stay after the show like the two other acts did, so I never met her. I suppose I didn't miss much.

I once rode on the same plane as John Denver. From Houston to Denver. He was in First Class, and probably in the first seat. I was in the VERY STINKING BACK SEAT of the plane, next to the Flight Attendants' kitchen. I thought I saw him, but was not convinced. Could it have been? Naw. Why would he fly commercial? He has a pilot's license. Well, it WAS John Denver, and he had not died yet while flying his own plane. Such a close brush with greatness. He was my favorite singer, back in the early 80's when he was still being shown in reruns of the Muppet Show, and was still appearing regularly on Sesame Street. The nice attendant and several other passengers were trying to think of his songs, and I came up with more by myself than they did combined. I wasn't really a fan at that time, so that rather surprised me.

Farmington is so out of the way, and kinda small, but it has its share of celebrity rolling through town. I got to see Mr. Former Vice President Dan Quayle while he was campaigning. I was too far past the ropes, and people were getting arrested for trying to do anything more than shake the man's hand. I got pictures from a random lady in the crowd. She got a little closer than me, and offered to take my camera with her. We swapped addresses, and mailed each other copies of our photographs.

DH and I, along with a few friends, saw Ringo Starr and his All Starr Band in concert at Frontier City a few years ago. There were a few people smoking weed a few rows ahead of us, and I came away from there with such a headache! It was my first time to get high. My first, last, ONLY time to get high. That headache didn't go away for almost two days. I don't know why people pay for that feeling. Ugh. Terrible. DH is a HUGE Beatles fan, and Ringo is his favorite. I personally liked Paul best, not only because he is the cute one, but for his long and lifetime marriage to Linda, his work with Wings (also a wife project), and his eagerness to join forces with others for the benefit of a charity.

On August 6, DH and I built a spur-of-the-moment parody of Yesterday. He started by just singing that one word, the most popular word of Paul's most memorable song. Even people who don't really like the Beatles know about the story of Sir Paul singing "Scrambled Eggs". Even if that was not true, we choose to believe the legend, because it makes us feel better. I added something about how he was in town presumably for the funeral of Mr. Murcer (some sports legend I don't know about) because his "friend passed away" and "he didn't eat at Hideaway", which is a local pizza joint that is pretty good... I don't remember it all now, but it was enough to make us laugh. My simple mind at work... you are all so very much in trouble.

Which brings us full circle to last week... and the fact that my obsessed hubby did not know until later that a beloved Beatle was nearby. I am not sure what gizmo or doodad was off, but something was wrong with my world for several moments. I only hope that the fine City of Oklahoma City did not show her petticoats of hick redneck starstruck idiots, but was a lady showing all the refinement she could. I pray that Sir Paul had a fine time here, and was given an extra huge helping of the classical Hospitality this state is known for.

What's Your Motivation?

Apparently, I am motivated by hate.

I know this may shock most of you. My brother might agree, but the rest of you don't know me as the mean teenager I once was.

From the American Family Association, we now hear that those who are opposed to Same Sex Marriages are motivated by hate.

McDonald's has joined forces with gay rights groups, and while I never was a fan of McDonald's, this is the basis for the AFA to call for a boycott. Now, I don't want you thinking that buying one less cheeseburger will really stop the madness. Boycotts are not the best answer, but they are not completely useless, either. However, that is not the issue I wish to discuss. I wish to discuss the real issue at hand.

Homosexuality is a sin. God condemns it in the Bible. It is against His plan for nature, it is against His law, it is against everything I believe in. But...

While I believe in God and do my best to follow his laws (obedience in my freedom in Christ), not everyone on this planet, or even in this country, believes the same way I do. Not even my own father, it seems, has the exact same views. Shocking, isn't it? There are people in this country who worship other ideas, created images, or creation itself. Many other kinds of religion have flooded society with lies, shades of truth, and information out of context. And, unfortunately, they have the right as Americans... no, as Humans... to do so.

I believe that everyone would benefit from a relationship with Christ. The church is His Bride; we are a people that He adores, and wishes to bring home with Him. Even Christ understands that Humans are proud. We are not fond of being in a relationship at all, much less the best one with Him. We like our love to be shallow; we settle for physical pleasure and call it love. We are so ignorant of what real, honest, true Love actually is.

So, as our hate-monger selves, Christians go around trying to legislate the lives of the unchurched. And vice-versa. Which causes a lot of strife. The Bible tells Christians this: 1 Corinthians 5:12-13a "For what have I (Paul wrote this letter) to do with judging outsiders? (those not in the church) Do you not judge those who are within the church? But those who are outside, God judges." (Notations in parentheses are mine.)

Same Sex Marriages are nothing more than an attempt by a sinful people to give previously denied "rights" to people who are already sinning. If you are the one person in the waiting room while your partner dies in an emergency room, that is not right. To say that only a spouse or blood family member can be in the room is just... inhumane. There are many people who are single or orphans who have none but their closest friends with them. It has nothing to do with one's choice of sexuality. Those basic human rights, to be close to a loved one in a time of crisis, have been denied for many humans. Homosexual couples should not have to demand that courtesy, it should be handed to them with the same care as any human would get. I believe that hospitals have not adapted on this subject to truly serve the public at large. On the hospital side of things, they have the obligation to limit how many people come into strategic areas, but they should not limit whom.

If you choose to live with a person of the same sex and you want to insure your partner, I believe the government has no right to deny that. The insurance companies can argue, but on the basis of health only. They must operate within the laws of the land and the rules in their own policies. It is bad business to deny taking money from customers who need and want your services.

All this is to say that while I have beliefs that homosexuality is wrong, and the people living in that lifestyle choice are going to hell, I do not want the American Government to make laws for or against such behavior. Not the Government's job. (Back to Paul here... we have no jurisdiction over "outsiders", and they have no jurisdiction over the church, either.)

Atheists (which I believe is a religion, but that discussion is also for another time) want Christians to stop demanding God in everything, which is against our relationship. Christians want Atheists to stop ignoring the God of everything, which is against their guesses about the universe. God makes no sense to those who deny that God exists. The tolerance demanded of Christ's followers is not applied to them in equal measure.

Stating the sentence that has already been set for an offense is NOT judging. Those who don't want to hear what I have to say will tell me (yes, I hear this in person a LOT) what the Bible says, but out of context. "Judge not, lest ye be judged." They don't know where to find it, but they know it is in there. This is in Matthew 7:1. Notice how they like to quote good old King James? The education of youth really does stick with you.

I am not making a judgment. I am reciting the sentence that God Himself handed down.

If I told you the penalty for speeding was a ticket, and I could tell you the amount of money you must pay for each of the miles per hour you were above the limit, that is not a judgment. That is a reminder of the sentence. It doesn't change that I want for you to never speed again.

If I told you that the penalty for killing in cold blood is your own death in an electric chair, that is not a judgment. That is a reminder of the sentence. I have not witnessed the murder, bypassed the trial, or condemned you to that death. I have merely stated what law is on the books.

If I told you that the penalty for homosexuality is a life cut short by an unthinkable virus (I think Romans 1:27 shows that God allows AIDS as a result of sin. Not a popular opinion, I know.) followed by a short trip to hell, that is not a judgment. That is a reminder of the sentence. I have not lived the lifestyle choice for you, nor have I argued with you about whether you were born with those tendencies. I have simply shown you where God will judge in the end.

Not believing in God does not stop the fact that He exists, or the fact that you will face Him.

God is the Judge, Jesus is your Defense Attorney. If you don't have THE Attorney, your Defense is lost. God will have no choice, if you are not repentant, but to hand down the verdict that you earned, that last thing you cannot deny... the Judgment that I can predict. No human will escape the Judgment. Read that again, in case you missed it. NO HUMAN will escape the Judgment. We all will have to stand before God, and those with Jesus as their Attorney will receive grace and mercy from the laws they have broken. Those without Jesus will receive the punishments they earned by breaking God's laws. I don't have the right, or the desire, to judge. I didn't write the laws, I can't even interpret them. I break them all the time. We all do, and little white lies are just as sinful as murder, pride and hate. There is prescribed punishment for sin.

There is no defense without Jesus.

The problem I see here is that the world doesn't see the rest of the story. In Romans 1:32, God tells us that those who practice such things (outlined in the verses above) are worthy of death. But then it says that those who heartily approve of such sins and the people who practice them are also worthy of death. If I ever say that it is OK for anyone to be gay, I am worthy of the same death they are subject to. God hates the sin of sexual immorality so much, that if I agree with one who is in that lifestyle, I am going to hell too. Pretty sobering stuff. Notice I did not say that God hates people. He absolutely does not. But, He cannot be in the presence of a willful sinner.

I cannot agree that homosexuality is OK. I cannot sit by and let people in my family and friend circle go to hell, without at least a conversation. I have to say something. I have to try.

I don't want anyone to go to hell, but God says some will. He doesn't want them to go there, either, but He will allow them to make their own mistakes, and give them chances to repent. That is the amazing thing about God's true Love. I think He would have sent Christ, even if it only meant that one of us would be saved. Out of the Billions of humans who have ever lived, I truly believe that Jesus would have come to save only ONE. This salvation isn't limited to ONE, though. You could have it, just as I have accepted it.

If those I love don't listen, I am compelled to try again, even if they don't like hearing what I have to say. I don't think of this as hate. Do you? If your family member is dealing with addiction to alcohol or drugs, do you try once and give up on them? NO. Of course not. You keep trying, hoping they will listen to you someday. They need help, not condemnation. The accusations of hateful motivation come from people who have felt the condemnation, but not felt the help offered in love.

There is also reasoning to shut up. (I know that the "religious right" has a hard time with this) There is Biblical reasoning to take the message elsewhere. When people will not listen, will not repent, and will be hateful to the messengers, that is the time to move the message to another target audience. I cannot change the people who will not see that God's law is superior. I cannot change the fact that homosexuals are still human, and they desire like I do to have basic human respect. I cannot force my beliefs on anyone else. I can love others, and still disapprove of their actions. My goal is to show the love, without ignoring the sin.

So why am I being accused of hate? Satan has taken hold of the Politically Correct trends, and used them to beat up on Christ's followers. Twisted the truth to his own advantage. Made it bad to be good. Sneaky. He has also taken hold of people's fears, and made it offensive to be corrected. In America today, we can no longer discipline our children, arrest our criminals or state ancient rules. When I state God's disapproval of anything, I am hateful. When I show a better way that is contrary to another's pride, I am hateful.

I remember that Jesus said that I would be hated, because I took His Name, and the world hated Him first. The shouting matches will do nothing to calm the hate coming from the outside. I can deal with being hated. I can deal with being accused of hating, even though it is a lie.

Is it hateful to be firm in your beliefs? I don't think so.

Can I Bore You Some More?

Word of the Post
Today's word is: caliginous
/ca*lidge"i*nous/ adjective
Misty, dark, dim, obscure.
London is often portrayed as claiginous. The murky fog dims the lights, and gives the city at night an ominous glow.
I was under the impression that it meant "made of tin", because of the line in The Wizard of Oz. The Wizard calls the Tin Man a "clinking, clanking, clattering collection of caliginous junk". Made of tin would actually be "ferruginous", but that wouldn't alliterate with clinking and clattering, now, would it? The idea being communicated (supposedly above everyone's head) is that the Tin Man is rusted and heartless. I imagine a batch of tin cans tied to the back of a car at a wedding. Empty, noisy, old, rusted and utterly without beauty. The Wizard is attempting to insult the Tin Man, and show his great intelligence.
At this link I found an interesting discussion of this thought, spawned by his own ponderances of irony. Here I found another, more directly related to the script of the movie. This person delves into the plot twist that the "Oz is not that brilliant after all."
~~~~~~~~~~
I have a matter of very great concern. I don't want to give names, or too many details, for the sake of privacy. Please pray for my friend. She had a tubal pregnancy that was ended today. I am praying, and knowing that many of you will do the same for her. I praise God for His family of believers to help in this time of pain.

Ferret and Zipper are in town for Zipper's oral surgery on Wednesday. They are working in the back of her throat to close a little hole, so that she can keep air separated between her mouth and her nose. It will help her be able to make more consonant sounds when she speaks. This could be very interesting in the long run. Zipper-Speak is very vowel oriented, and very hard to understand, even sometimes for her mom. I have to be looking at her, to see what she is trying to do with her mouth to really get what she says. Today at lunch, she told us she needed a "map". She meant "nap". Close. Still, she hit that P with perfect clarity, and that is new in the past few months to me.

We took the Buick in to the Honda dealership last night, and got all our personal stuff out of it. It is a 2002 model, but it had a book for a 2003. Whatever. At least it had a book. I have never been so very happy to be rid of a car. The relief is so sweet. When we thought about buying a car before this, we were in the finance office of the Hyundai dealer before the dread nearly made me puke. This time, I never got the growling pit feeling in my tummy, I never got the "get me out of here, NOW" voice in my head. It was almost painless. I say almost, only because I now have to PAY the price we agreed upon. A little more friendly conversation got us a better interest rate, yet again. This is a total of 13 points better than the loan we got on the Buick in 2003. We have paid off two cars, early, since then, and have very little other debt. It is good to know that the hard work we have done was not useless.

Now, we have to figure out what sort of coverage we wish to carry on our cars, and get the insurance set up. If you live in Oklahoma, and have need of an insurance quote, I have the guy for you.

There is much to do this week, and not nearly enough time to get it all done. I hope I don't lose my mind!

Raise your glass to mindless existence! I shall enjoy mine filled with a little water, on the rocks.

The Number Of Crock-Pots Shall Be Three! (Five, Sir.)

For those who are wondering where I keep FOUR crock pots, I went and looked again. I actually have five, if you count the littlest one, that I can't cook in. To answer Flea's question, they are each in their own spot... scattered all over the 5 cabinets I have. Small ones up high, big ones down low. The 6 qt. pretty much lives on the cabinet, in the far left corner. All of them are Rival Crock-Pot brand. What have we here?

1. One 6 qt. oval removable crock. Temp adjustable with Hi, Lo and Warm. Deep green. The outside has herb leaves on it. I was hoping to win one of the new offerings from Stephanie's blog... those have a locking lid that would be helpful for travel. Oh, well. This is the one I use for the Pot Luck dinners. I couldn't find a red one, so I settled for green; but I love it.

2. One 4 qt. round removable crock. Temp adjustable with Hi and Lo. Maroon (got this as a wedding present). The outside has flowering pictures of herb plants on it. MIL wanted a removable crock, and couldn't kill her one piece. She jokingly threatened to steal mine. I offered to give it to her, but she refused. She didn't want to give up her working piece just for a flashier model. For a gift, I got her one. It was removable, an oval in blue, that matched her then new dishes. She donated her original wedding present to their church. It still works, and she had it since 1974.

3. One 2 qt. round, one piece. Knob with Off or On, but not really temp adjustable. Matches the chili pepper kitchen! I had to have this one. Don't argue with me. Seriously.

4. One 1 qt. Crock-ette, also called a Little Dipper, one piece. Plug in to turn on, no knobs at all. Deep green. Came with the 6 qt. and matches the herb pattern. This is the one I used for the Compote.

5. One Mini Potpourri Crock, one piece, plug in only. Deep green. This one could hold one cup of water, and is not designed for food. I think this one came with a set as well, but I don't really remember.

Now, I don't know exactly why I have the need to own FIVE crock pots. I have different uses for each one. There is the one that gets the cheese dip, the one that makes dinner for two, the one that makes leftovers for a week. I actually gave away a 2 qt. that matched the 4 qt. in exchange for getting to buy the one that had chili peppers on it. I have decided that I am totally wacko. I have so much kitchen stuff, and not nearly enough kitchen for half of it. Wishful thinking (there is another house in my future, I am sure) or just pack rat out of control? I can only say... "Whatever." I justified my pattern trade by letting one go out, to get one in. Seemed good to me at the time.

I love to cook, I love to make people happy with food. I have a need to have comfort food, and if I can make it fresh, it will certainly be better than the salt/fat/sugar laden canned stuff. I remember reading somewhere that there were studies done that said long, slow cooked food was better for you than seared and fast cooked food. (Don't tell Rachael Ray, her 30 minute meals are awesome, too.) I know that slow cooked meat is so much more tender than pan fried. I love a warmed and softened veggie, that still has some crunch to it. I LOVE that the term "stew" really does describe the mixing of the flavors; that the leftovers are just as good, if not better, on the next day.

I'm not so creative to make a New Year's Resolution to use the crock pot every day. (I really think Stephanie rocks!) I'm not so fanatical that I will tell you that you MUST be like me in my obsession. I like that the food can be slow cooked, and my house (and electric bill for counteracting the stove operating) doesn't have to get so hot. I adore baking, but it is a tedious and painful process in the summer. Oklahoma is not bakery friendly in the 100 degree, 80% humidity of July. I have been known to cook to keep the house warm in the winter, though.

I have learned a lot about Microwave cooking from my MIL. She is always happy to make things that don't take too long, and don't heat up the house. I had never thought of making casseroles in the microwave, and now I have a great time fixing DH's favorite. I have a few gadgets for that purpose, too. My kitchen has no shortage of interesting ways to cook dishes that I don't regularly make.

On to another subject. OH. MY. Goodness! How did it take me a whole month to read one little book? I will admit that I was reading only about one chapter a night, but... wow. I usually devour books. I don't know what is wrong with me. My friend David said that he has a sickness. We are in the same boat, seriously. See a book, buy the book. I have a whole shelf full to brimming, and that holds about 2/3 of the books I still own. I tried. I TRIED. I put enough books in the garage sale to fill a small shelf. I sold a few. But I brought back so many.

I don't know when/if I will try another garage sale. Roadrunner and I were going to do one together, but her plans have hit some unexpected bumps. I am seriously considering just dumping whole boxes of junk at Goodwill, and letting them deal with it. I figure the freedom of the clutter will help me declutter the rest of the house. I was hoping to make a little bit of money back on some of it, but that really has nothing to do with the decision. I can get a receipt for the donation of stuff. I don't really care. I just want it all out of my house.

I have always had piles of stuff, stacks of boxes in my way. I don't know why I keep some of it. There is a box of "hope chest" things, but I don't have a chest. I haven't even looked in that box in four years. I can't even tell you where it is right now. I have boxes of stuff my mom gave me from her house, that I haven't opened in almost 10 years. I haven't even been married that long! I think this year is the year to clean, DEEP CLEAN, my house. I complain that I don't know how to clean, which isn't technically true. I have never had a clean house to maintain, but that is no real excuse. "Mess equals Stress." Thank you, Mrs. Rice. Yes, I need to clean up, and maybe that will get rid of some of the depression, stress, and moodiness. I don't know. I should certainly try.

Time to jet. I have a women's class to attend, studying keeping cool and eating for less $$ and, most importantly, following God's plan for my household. Beginning, of course, with me. I need that lesson.

Have a happy day!

Because Falling Is Funny

I have felt today the true meaning of schadenfreude.

I was minding my own business, driving from a class at my church building (I was the class this week) to the grocery store in Edmond where I wished to buy fresh veggies and fruits. After entering the highway, I set my cruise to the limit of 60, and stayed in the right lane. I know that going ONLY the speed limit is irritating to some, so I follow the rules of the road; "Slow Traffic Keep Right".

Out of nowhere, there comes a little black car. He (She? I wasn't looking, really) passed me on the right, and in doing so cut back in front of me across the warning hash marks of the exit lane he was in. So, let's review. 1. Speeding (Remember that I am locked on the speed limit? I thought you were paying attention.) 2. Passing on the right. 3. Reckless driving. 4. Changing lanes without using a signal. 5. Crossing warning lines. (Should have exited at Hefner, dude.)

Now, I was having an OK sort of day, but there had been a few little things on my mind that were bothering me. This person cutting me off just made me shake my head and sigh. My first thought was my usual one when someone does something stupid in front of me in traffic: "Happy ticketing, jerk!" Yeah, I was good today, I didn't really say what I was thinking, even though I was in the car by myself. Usually, I tend to be more... inappropriate when I have nobody to hear me. Never a cop around when you need one. That dude needs a ticket, maybe he would slow down and not be a danger to others anymore. Somebody should have seen that!

And then the happiness burst forth. From traffic behind me, I saw a motorcycle cop maneuver through traffic, pass me, and get behind the little black car. Then the pretty Christmas lights (That is from the undercover cars, that look all normal, until they light up like a Christmas tree. No green; just red, white and blue.) came on, and the little siren that is impossible to hear over your stereo while on the highway. He actually pulled the little car over, and I was suddenly very happy.

Not only was the driver doing all those things I listed above, I think I saw a phone on the ear. I can't be certain. Maybe he wasn't wearing his seat belt. A part of me hopes that he got a hefty fine for all the rudeness. It was about 12:15 in the afternoon, so the dude (dudette, if that applies) was probably rushing around to get lunch and go back to an office job he hates. Life can be pretty easy, until you make it hard on yourself, you know? I just think it was funny.

The rest of the traffic around me slowed down when they saw the cop going for the reckless speeder. They had all been pretty far behind me, but suddenly were next to me, but pretending to obey the law they should have been following all along. It feels good to know that I was obeying the traffic laws, and that by breaking them around me, someone got caught. That has happened more in the past couple of years... I wonder if there are more cops, or if it is just that I happen to be at the right place at the right time? Truly, I believe that the world is out to get me.

I think I have a sign that shows up when I drive: It is Neon Green, and flashes the words, "Woman Driver, Please Cut Me Off". It changes color and adds words when I am with Roadrunner. Then it looks like a flashing traffic signal: Green, Yellow, Red... "Two women on board. You are required to do something stupid in front of this car". When we add Roadrunner's "I LOVE my children!", the sign goes even further: Blinking in the colors of the rainbow, the words, "We have children, we are women, hear us scream when you perform illegal and stupid acts near this car!"

I have my Dad's uncanny ability to kill streetlamps by merely driving past. I have my Mom's sense to tell people to stop, but usually the people in the other car can't hear me. I talk to the traffic, like Rachael Ray talks to her food. It is habit, and a nasty one, at that. I also get from Dad the knack for hitting every light red, especially when running late. DH has this too, but I don't know from whence he inherited. Unless my marriage to him made some of my dumb luck rub off on him?

For all of you who have ever sat out there in the traffic jam caused by the longest train known to exist in captivity, take heart. It really will be moved sometime this century. I promise. Even if by only microns per year. When it is blocking the one thing you want to do.... (just across the tracks in front of you!) say a prayer, and remember that you can't get a ticket for waiting on a train.

Or obeying the law.

I am truly giddy over this, and I should not be. This is bad.

Wordy Wednesday

I have not enough brain power to put a word up today. Enough about me being hard on myself. I am taking a day off. Today is the first of many "Be Nice To Chelf Today" days, and I am celebrating. I am hoping to get lots of rest. Soon, I shall be taking a little trip north, to visit a friend, and make two new friends. I am going to meet the lovely Midwest Girl in person. I can't wait! I will bring back pictures (if I remember to take them!) and blog a little about our adventures. If I am allowed to, and not sworn to the silence of Girls' Night.

I hope everyone had a nice Valentine's day. I don't really care to celebrate a day named for a guy I never even met, and that Hallmark seems to have immortalized. Our Blog Buddy Meet was planned last week, before I was reminded that THAT Thursday was a special day, and our hubbies might object to a Girls' Night Out on the National Holiday. So, we quickly changed to this week. Which makes me a busy woman.

Thursday, I go north. Friday I come back south. Saturday, DH and I go north again, but not so far. We are going to our church's Couples Retreat. We go to a campground north of here, and spend a night or two (varies by year) studying God's Word about marriage and related family issues, and playing board games and sitting up all night talking to other couples about all sorts of subjects. It is funny to me, that this campground has rooms, like a college dorm. With Bunk Beds. Two Twin sized bunk beds. Yep, we get to sleep separately for our retreat. Now before anyone suggests ways to co-sleep, let me inform you that DH is 6' 6" tall, and I am 5'4" and... fluffy. We can't fit on a twin together for real for all night. We tried to put the mattresses on the floor side by side, and it didn't fit. The rooms are TINY. There are a lot of ways to grow as a couple. Sleeping separately is not my best idea of a way to grow. However, the weekend usually is filled with other ways to be intimate. Sunday, we come home again.

DH and I have been going to the local dollar theater on their $0.50 night. We have seen The Golden Compass and August Rush this week. OK, August Rush was on Friday night, not Tuesday. Either way, we have seen cheap movies. Then we go to Vintage and play Scrabble. I don't know why I like that, but I do. I suppose part of it comes from the fact that we don't have a kitchen table set up right now. We play board games across a folding wooden tray. It is fun to play Scrabble in a quiet little coffee shop.

Friday night there were some guys there, who were going to compete in a talent contest the next day. They had written a song, and were practicing it. Two guitars, three guys, and a lot of laughs. They were creative. One of the guitar players works at the shop, so I hope to ask him soon if they won anything, even an honorable mention for their guts and creativity.

Yes, you saw that right, I went to see the Golden Compass for myself. I spent the least amount of money possible, so as to not support the author too much if I didn't like it. I liked the movie. I personally thought that it was an interesting combination of good CG effects and bad acting. I like the girl that played Lyra. She seems to have a gift. Having not read the books myself, and having read lots of reviews, critics and friendly discussions, I have come to a borderline conclusion. I liked it, for the fantasy fiction it is. I did not like it, because it seemed somewhat lacking in plot and depth. It felt rushed. It felt as if it were a cheap imitation of good fiction.

Now, I don't know how the books would feel. I don't care to find out. I saw a fun quote recently. "Never judge a book by it's movie." AMEN and amen. (Book snobbery showing through) So... I have judged the movie without the book. If the point was to get me to read the book that would try to snag my innocent daemon out of my body, and make it walk around like a puppy learning to heel, then it failed miserably. If the point was to pique my curiosity about this daemon idea, and to lure me into believing the morality of the compass, it still failed. I hate to say it, people, because I shouldn't have to. Kids (those old enough to really read these books) and adults alike should know the difference between fact and fiction. This is fiction, and kids know it better than some adults. Same with Harry Potter, same with Star Trek, same with Star Wars. Fiction, all of it.

Fiction can draw you a verbal picture, and can show you a little different way of thinking than you once had. It can seep into your open heart to the possibility that there is something bigger than yourself out there. But Fiction cannot tear you from God's Love, cannot change what you know to be true, cannot excuse weakness of faith. This movie is not for small children, it is not for anyone questioning their faith to use as a guide, and it should not be marketed through Scholastic. This watered-down depiction is simply designed to tease you, to make you think that the God-killing ideas this man writes are soft, and cuddly.

I can hear the hiss of the serpent in his ideas. You don't have a real moral compass, and you don't need one. You know what is right better than anyone else. When lying gets you a good result, it is OK. Age is a terrible thing, don't trust adults because they lie to you, they only want to hurt you. Children always know better than adults. Go with your gut, not instructions. Folly. The man was clever, and the movie studio more so. Parents should definitely be on their guard. If nothing else, for the gory way the Ice Bears fight. I would never have thought to kill a bear would require punching his jaw off, literally. That was gruesome.

So, I wasted fifty cents and a couple of hours of my life that I can never regain. Eh. I have wasted far more money and far more time on far less eventful distractions. Now I know not to bother reading, until my own future children want to. Then I shall do as Niki suggested, and read WITH my children, and discuss the topics as they emerge.

August Rush was not so great as I had hoped, either. It is a good movie, but not so great. I liked it. I may actually buy it when it comes out. If it fits into my budget, which it will likely not. It had good music, it had Robin Williams (so it couldn't have been that bad), and it had a family healing in the end. It seemed a little fairy tale when August gets to go to Juilliard. That kind of education isn't cheap, and he was a street kid. But, it was a speech to adoption, coincidence, hope and music. "You just have to listen." I cried. I am doing that a lot more in recent years... crying over movies that shouldn't impact me so much. I can't relate to being a 12 yr old wandering the streets of NYC. But knowing that the music brought them all together, as August hoped it would, touched me.

I know that tunes and smells are the two most powerful triggers of memory. A song on the radio can take you back a week or a decade. A smell can bring your childhood to your moment. Go explore your world for the scents and songs that take you back, and enjoy the mini vacation!

Would Paradise Really Serve Burgers?

Word of the Post
Today's word is: locus
/lo"cus/ noun
A place, a locality; site. Plural is "loci" pronounced /lo"sy/
The scavenger hunt took us to several varied loci.
~~~~~~~~~~
I have so many things on my mind today, I don't know exactly where to start. I suppose I shall just let things tumble out, and I will quit when I reach a good stopping point. Wouldn't want to overwhelm you all with everything. Might get droll.

Friday, I went with my mother-in-law and my sister-in-law to the Affair of the Heart. I have a few things that I always look for. I didn't see the guy who makes pottery for his wife to paint Beatles lyrics on. That is way too much money for me to spend, anyway, and all for DH, not me. I of course make a reservation in my time for Goodies Unlimited. Aubrey makes the best soaps, lotions and lip balms. We have grown to have a rapport that benefits us both. I love her Everything Balm, and buy a few things every time I visit. I found Roy who makes Pens. I got one for Dad last October, for his birthday. It was a .308 shell with a black walnut top. If you know guns, you can see it in your head. If you don't know guns, you only need to know that is was a cool wooden pen with a shotgun shell as the bottom of it. Dad loved it. They have one building that always seems to get the tackiest of the exhibits. I don't know why that is. I am not into the flashy stuff, but there is a whole building full of it!

Today we went to lunch with the family. DH's mom won't let us pay for meals, especially when she invites us to come. SIL and I both told the waitress that we were wanting separate checks, and SIL got the "mother glare" from across the table. She didn't catch me until we had three checks in three little books. She literally took the book from my hands with force, and said playfully, "I win!". SIL was out feeding Gum Drop, so she stood not a chance of paying for herself and Jelly Bean. "We didn't invite you to lunch to make you pay!" I answered that with, "We didn't accept expecting free food." I mean, I knew it was a restaurant. I know it costs money to eat. Both our moms do that when they are around. When they visited at the same time, they discussed it at length, and then decided that they would each pay for the dinners of their daughters. MIL paid for SIL and her family, and Mom paid for me and DH. It is funny to watch them twitch when we want to pay for ourselves. Seriously, when I lived at home, it would have been craziness for me to suggest that I pay for anything other than the gas in my car. I still offered to pay for some things. I was raised with at least a pretense of honor.

This 888 challenge is kicking me right now. Basically, it is one book a week, all year long, with a few extras thrown in somewhere. I am a month behind. I officially started reading the first book on February 1. I am reading slowly for me. This kind of book I could read in two days usually. This one has taken me more than a week. I am seriously losing my touch. It's not as if I have a clean house to show for the lack of reading. No, actually, I have a mess, and no ambition to fix it. If I had more than a husband and two cats to blame, I would probably be yelling at them right now to clean up their rooms. No such luck. I need to yell at ME.

I want to achieve a balance in our home. I have no idea where to start on that, either. Fly Lady and books on cleaning and organization... (shaking my head in total dismay) I am to the point of hiring a cleaning service, but I don't have the money. Like many others before me, I want my home to be cleaner before I let anyone else in to do the deep cleaning. I have an addiction to stuff, and it clutters and stresses my life. I don't feel comfortable letting people in my home, and that is against the hospitality I desire to show to anyone who knocks. Patterns, lists and budgets have all failed, because I don't keep up with them any better than the dishes.

Bible study fails me, too. I don't read much recently, and the Bible usually isn't it when I bother. We have been studying on Sundays about creating Spiritual Maturity. {Edit: Technically, the words were Spiritual Discipline. I am simply unDisciplined.} Prayer, Meditation, Fasting, Silence. All things to improve our personal walk with God, and help the Spiritual Growth of the church. Pretty sad, because the only thing I think I have accomplished is this new-found sense of inadequacy. Huzzah! Lent started this week, but since the church of Christ at large does not celebrate that, I have not given up anything. I have been my usual selfish self. ME ME ME ME ME ME ME! How empty and unsatisfying. Solomon knew this feeling. "Vanity, vanity, all is vanity." His knowledge of nothing new under the sun was revolutionary then, and still is. When we give up our thoughts of self, we can then fully appreciate what God really has in His plans for us. We can explore what freedom in Christ really is. But we have to still our own pride first. OUCH, that is a painful test.

Why is it that commercials are played so much louder than the movie? Why is it that movies don't get shown on TV with the subtitles available? I could really use that after DH goes to bed, and I stay up late and mindlessly type my brains out. Speaking of which, it is really late. I should get in bed. Sunday will be miserable if I do not get some rest. I have not had the terrible cough since Wednesday. The teas and potions did the trick. I am feeling so much better these days. The exhaustion of spending all day Friday on my feet was not fun today, but it didn't stop me from being lazy, either. I cherish my lazy Saturdays.

Happy reading to you all!

Resolutions For The Faint Of Heart

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. I can start by sending out birthday and anniversary cards, but by the time I reach my own birthday in May, you may as well count yourself out if you expect a card from me. It is absolutely NOT that I don't think about people, it is that I get so busy and forgetful that I don't think to send a card. Which is a disappointment to me, because I like to send out real snail mail. I think it is much more personal to get a letter as opposed to an email. And a phone call is the best.

I also get my book list started each New Year's weekend. I have a stack of books to read all the time. It is a rotating stack. I have added a new element to the sidebar. The books that are currently in my stack are on the new list. This list will change as I finish reading books, or add more to the stack. I hope to keep up with that this year. Hope being the operative word. I would like to read through the complete Bible this year. I have tried this for several years. I always get stuck in the boring books.... Lamentations (too sorrowful) or Leviticus (tedious laws of the Jews) or Numbers (I hate math and genealogies). Even Matthew and all the "this one begat that one" language gets to me.

This year, I have also resolved to get the house clean. Cleaner. To work on cleaning the house more often. Yeah. Anyway, I am off to a good start. I cleaned the shower/tub today, and replaced the broken shower head. When we were without power for five days, everything froze. We didn't have any broken pipes, because I left the water dripping, but I think there was water in the shower head, and that froze, and cracked the handle. It was leaking. So, now we have a fancy new one that we can actually change the pressure on.

Last, but not least, 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. I hope to have less to say, but to say it more often. I don't know how it will work, but I want to try. I would love to include more pictures. I also plan to keep going with the words of the post.

I don't usually like to "resolve" anything; other than fights, anyway. I always get to thinking about the church song..."I am resolved no longer to linger, charmed by the World's delight...." I don't like that song too much, and I guess it carries over to the word and then to the action of resolve. To make a huge statement of resolution makes it more.... I guess, pressured. I put pressure on myself to keep the promise, and I am not very good at long termed actions. I am too lazy. I procrastinate. I am a perfectionist. It has to be just so, or it doesn't get done at all. I suppose I operate best on lists. I make a list and then check things off as they get done. I suppose I should do as the Bible says, to say, "if the Lord wills it".

Have a great 2008!

Here Comes "Samma Claus"

I was in the middle of blogging last Monday evening, when our house went dark. I copied the entry into my word processor program on my laptop, and saved it for later. Now, you get to see what I was thinking about Jack Frost just before he got a fuller revenge on us.

Jack Frost can have a bad temper sometimes. He has hit Oklahoma with a vengeance. I am not terribly certain what we have done to anger him, but he has made a mess of our streets, cars and electric companies. Our house has had two days of freezing rain, sleet, and bitter temperatures. I helped DH scrape almost half an inch of the stuff off his car last night, and helped him again this morning with more. The bright side? The wind has not been bad, so the cold doesn't bite at your bones.

The trouble this morning was getting into the car, to retrieve the scraper. Mind, the door was iced over. Good thing we had scrapers from another car and a key fob that unlocks the doors, without need of the exterior locking mechanism to be defrosted.

DH was told not to come in just yet.... after we had scraped 80% of the windows clean. So, we finished, and came back inside to warm up. Hot Cocoa is a wonderful invention. He ended up going in around 11, and was home by 2:30. His supervisor was there, working on stuff with a generator, because the office power was out. It has been fun trying to talk to people on our cell phones, because they keep cutting out, and telling us the network is busy. It took three actual phone calls, and several other tries on both ends, for his supervisor to ask him to come to work. My phone cut off my mom, in the middle of the conversation. So mean. That is what we get for relying so much on electricity.

Jelly Bean got to sit on Santa's lap while she was with Grandma and Grandpa over last weekend. (Her phrasing of his name inspired the title of this post, BTW) She told him she wanted a bow. He asked if it was a bow for her hair? She said, "No. A big red bow on top of my present!" The whole family is planning to put red bows on her presents. I am actually trying to make a pillow in the shape of a bow, so she can have a memento of this year for future reference. I am glad that she does not yet know how to read, and that she doesn't yet read my blog. :-) I won't be able to tell you all her presents in a few years. She will be sneaky and try to find out, and I shall have to be sneakier and not say. I just hope that the actual present doesn't look horrible. My sewing talents are limited, and my patience even more so.

We have visitors upstairs. Definitely mice, probably birds, and I wonder if maybe a squirrel (?), live in our ceiling. I don't really have any access to the area, since the only entrance is a hole in the ceiling of the garage, and we don't have a ladder. Today, they have been making all sorts of noise in or on the roof, and the poor cats are distraught at the fact that prey plays out of their reach. I have seriously been contemplating buying a ladder and some poison in a box, and planting it up there. Noisy critters. More reason to bug the landlord about fixing the roof. I think there are holes up there, and he could stand to get it inspected, at the very least.

It has been getting dark since I started writing this entry. It got very cold just in the past five minutes. Brr! Santa needs to bring me a blanket this year! I am in a sweater and shivering. I hesitate to turn up the heater, because of the skyrocketing price of natural gas. However, that is why we have the service, so I should probably use it. I am a miser, I suppose. Bah!

We have several parties this year, all expecting a present valued from $10 to $20 each. Is it just me, or is the "Dirty Santa" the new

I don't know where my brain was headed here. I don't remember what I was going to compare the "Dirty Santa" gift exchange to. I am sorry for this, because I was interested too.

I have been having a tough time coming up with a Christmas wish list for my mother-in-law. I do not need anything. There is not much I want. I can buy anything I feel I have a desire for, and I don't have that many desires right now. I think relying on others has put my wishes on hold. It hasn't yet "felt like Christmas" to me. I have done no decorating, and I don't intend to now. It is too late. It will only have to come down in the next two weeks anyway.

On my chat group, we decided I should ask her to contribute to the cost of replacing my engine, or that I should ask that she contribute to Niki's Sevens ministry. Being in the cold on the road prompted me to buy more blankets for Sevens than I was planning originally. I am thinking that might be the best option. Help others, don't spoil me. MIL says that Christmas is for "wants" and I think many of those are frivolous. I can ask for Wii games, but there are people freezing to death, and I know how to help them.

I have seen the goodness of God through my good friends, I have lacked for nothing (except for electricity) in the past week, and many months previous. I could use a new laundry detergent, a new digital camera with video, a package of thank you cards.... but I really can't think of anything that I don't already have. I can't ask for the jeans I would like, because I have to try them on. I don't like getting clothes, because clothes are so very varied in what fits my body. Money for clothes, maybe?

I think the couple gift of date is the best idea. That way, I don't have to think. She has given us this one in the past. An envelope for each part: a gift card for dinner, cash for a movie of our choice, and a little cash toward gas to drive there for an evening. One year, we bought a DVD we were waiting for, but still spent the money on "a movie".

I have tried this year to improve my spiritual life, our financial responsibility, and my housekeeping patterns. I have no intention of being selfish with this request. Celebrating with family is going to be enough. More than I deserve. I could not ask for more.

Maybe I can get Sara Evans' album with that song on it.

Humbug!

Overlooking The Bad

Word of the Post
Today's word is: condone
/con*done"/ verb
To regard or treat (usually action that is bad or blameworthy) as acceptable, forgivable or harmless. To overlook an offense; to pardon; make allowances for, or be lenient with.
When a child is caught doing something bad, many parents today condone their actions instead of punishing and educating.
~~~~~~~~~~
I got the car back, and things seem to be operating properly. I now have to settle up with the shop. I don't like giving up my money. I didn't even have to work for this money, but it just seems wrong to pay so much for installing such tiny parts. Dread fills my being. Unfortunately, I am also an honorable person, and must pay my debt. I want the guys to make the money for their labor. Just not so much of it. I have told the guys in the office more than once: I appreciate the work you do for me, but I am really getting tired of looking at you.

I think the cats are trying to break the door between the living room and the garage. They run throughout the house, at break-neck speeds, and hit the cat door at full tilt. One of these days, the door is going to pop out of its place, or just break in half from the force.

Of all the things that can go wrong, I have to deal today with the most painful. I have been having horrible back spasms. It hurts to walk, hurts to sit, hurts to move. I have iced my back, rubbed it with Tiger Balm, massaged, taken Tylenol, heat packed, and stretched. I have no idea what is pinched or what is out of place, but my muscles are crying. I wonder how much of this comes from all the walking I did over the weekend, going to the craft fair and a Blazers hockey game. You might question why going to a hockey game should make my back hurt, and I have the answers. I spent all day Friday at the State Fairgrounds at An Affair of the Heart, a twice annual craft fair. My legs and feet hurt for two days after that. On Saturday, we went to the hockey game at the Ford Center. We park about three blocks away, and walk to the arena. Then we have to hike up and down the stairs to get to our seats. The seats are not built for babies who have back like I have. I have to sit in the seats at a bit of an angle, and I am sure that is the actual culprit.

Thankfully, none of these will last forever. I have the money in hand to give to the shop for my car. I know the pain will go away soon enough. I should not complain. It brings everyone else down, and doesn't make me feel any better. Just know that I am doing all I can (for free) to help myself.

I wish for all my readers, loyal or new, to have a fun and safe and Happy Halloween!

Snips and Snails and Puppy-Dog Tails

Word of the Post
Today's word is: akimbo
/uh*kim"bo/ adjective
With a crook or bend; appendages bent outward, with the joint away from the body.
Sitting "criss-cross applesauce" (it used to be called "Indian Style", but that is racially unacceptable to the PC crowd now) can be described as sitting with legs akimbo.
Can also be an adverb, describing the person's whole stance. A person with hands on hips, and elbows facing out can be referred to as standing akimbo.
~~~~~~~~~~
I am not sure what part of nature failed this year, or it if it is actually natural, but we have a lot of spiders right now. Last night, DH came back from his late night Friday fun job, and walked face first into a spider web on our front stoop. I shiver for him! He found the culprit builder, and had it removed from the gene pool. I went out this morning to spray the area with spider killer deluxe spray, and remove the web; the parts that DH may have missed with his face, anyhow. I found the remains of our criminal, as well as four smaller spiders. All different, so that lends hope that there is not a brown recluse around. I guess I need to wash the house. With Bleach. UGH!!! I committed Arachnacide. I am Woman, Hear me scream!

I am not nearly so fearful of spiders as others I know. (Hi, Nicki!) I don't really scream very often. I usually do more of a startled yell. (Holla!) In my searchings, I found many egg sacks, so I will soon be removing those to a distinctly impromptu funeral on the other side of the house. The coffin of the trash barrel will be emptied on Thursday next week.

Now that we are all buggy, I will move on to a better subject. Tuesday night, DH and I went on an "UnDate". "What is an UnDate?" you say? WELL... DH wanted to see the Simpsons Movie, and I had no desire at all to join him. I wished to see Becoming Jane, to which DH returned the sentiment. We decided that we could each see our movies separately, at the same time. The Dollar Theatre was quiet as we entered. We purchased tickets and the requisite snacks, and parted ways. I think we each had a good time. I am happy that we only spent 50 cents each to see movies that would have cost $8.75 a month ago. This way, for the same money, we got two movies and snacks instead of just one movie and nothing else. Date, and yet not. UnDate.

Thursday we went to a special Birthday dinner for BIL. He is now 35. A mutual friend sang "Happy Birthday, old Geezer..." which I found refreshing. I am not the oldest in the room when we hang out with this crowd of friends. Jelly Bean was pitching a little fit (I have seen much worse out of other kids... she is tame, even if it is unacceptable to her parents) and BIL tried to distract her by asking what day it was. Jelly Bean cried a little more and said, "Not MY birthday!" BIL said, "Well, a very merry UnBirthday to YOU!" She didn't get it. She's too little, and has not seen Alice in Wonderland. She must have been tired. She was clingy, but only to certain people. She also did a lot of running around and around the table to keep herself awake and entertained.

I got to hold Gum Drop for a while, to let BIL eat his dinner. I am not so selfish as to not share. I kept getting him, and then passing him off to other friends. One friend has twins, and his son was incredibly jealous that Daddy was holding a strange baby and not his own son. He cried, and reached for me. Now, I am no stranger to this family, but I am no auntie to them either. I don't see them very often, and the kids don't really know me, so it surprised me that Son would try to get me to hold him. Daughter was a little more subtle. She just screamed. These two make the funniest faces! I know that parents get irritated at children acting up at dinner, but I just don't pay so much attention. Is it practice for me? I watched the Mommy of the twins correct, threaten, and actually follow through on the punishments. All very quiet, and personal to the child each time. I think she even had a good time, despite the screaming interruptions.



BIL got a free dessert at the end of the meal, because it was his Birthday. I think half the crowd had a bite of it. And I am pretty sure we finished it. It was a kind of Tiramisu, covered in whipped cream and chocolate drizzle. It was five inches high, and four inches square! The coolest part was that they wrote "Happy Birthday" in a chocolate sauce on the edge of the plate. Jelly Bean got more dirty eating this than she did at her own birthday party.


I have not posted many pictures of Gum Drop lately, because I haven't really gotten to see him much. We go to a different church congregation than BIL and family do. We live close enough to call, and far enough that it is rude not to call when dropping by. We are all so busy with work and school and home and other friends... we don't see each other nearly enough for my taste. I get baby withdrawals. I have to grab babies at my church to fill the void.


This is me, holding Gum Drop, and DH took the picture. That was the first real smile I saw out of the kiddo. We were wandering around a Wal-Mart in Kingfisher. That is our family meeting place for the baby swaps, or the Gramma's Baby Fix Visits. We eat at a restaurant, and go to a park, and wander at the Wally-World, looking at cute clothes for the kids.


This is a rare moment, and you need to savor it. I have run out of things to say. *GASP!!!*

Have a great weekend!