You know it's bad when my husband notices the blog has been a little silent lately! I just haven't had much to say--sometimes posts come steady and regularly, and sometimes they just don't come at all.
On top of a lack of inspiration, I've been occupied with enjoying my sister's last weeks here (she's gone now, and if you don't know what I'm talking about, go here.), as well as reading a ton, feeding my children who are always hungry lately, and trying to keep us all in clean socks. Which has been hard, since the washer is broken. And I have to be electrocuted again. And Grayson's elbow got dislocated today--again. And, and, and . . . As Bridget sagely stated today, "It's always something." I know it's always something for everybody, but we seem to invite "something" more often than the average family. So blogging has been a little low on the priority list, you know? Sometimes getting a bone set just has to be more important :)
And I'd like to post something other than the excuse that my mind has been on other things, except that it's almost midnight, I'm fairly sleep-deprived in general right now, and I'm getting up early to meet Bridget and another friend for a day-trip to Canton, which is the home of the largest flea market in Texas, if not the galaxy. I don't even care if there's anything good to look at there; it's all about the foot-long corn dogs and several hours of time away from the dishwasher, laundry room, and stack of diapers at my house! We go about once a year, and it's been longer than that, since I've never left Addison for more than the three hours between feedings. She's almost thirteen months, folks--it's time for a break!
So I'm going to bed, but I solemly promise than the next time I post, it'll be something other than an excuse. :-)
(And I have to shout out a big "Thank You!" for all the comments about favorite books! I came home with a huge armful today and spent half my bathtub time just figuring out which one to start first. Heaven help me if I forget to return them on time; I have 15 sitting on my endtable. It's a little out of control!)
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Thursday, May 24, 2007
A Good Yarn: The First Installment
I have been doing a lot of reading lately. If I could emphasize the words "a lot" even more dramatically than italicizing and highlighting them, I would. Oh, wait: A LOT! Okay, that's better. That's how much reading I've been doing.
When I was a little girl I'd visit my dad in Denver for a couple weeks each summer, and I remember driving down Colfax with him, my nose in a book, again. He gave me a hard time that day--I don't blame him; he only saw me a few times a year, and I spent most of the visits reading. I'll never forget trying to explain why I loved books that much. Besides, it was the crux of the Sweet Valley High craze, and I was immersed in the drama that only Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield and their Spider Fiat could summon.
As the years have passed, my avid reading has come and gone in spurts. I usually read a lot more during certain months than others. I keep a reading journal to record what I've read each year, mostly so I won't repeat, and so if I love a specific author, I can keep track of what I've read from him or her. John Grisham has about 42 million books, so I know which ones I've read (all but one). The Thoenes (pronounce Tay-knee--did you know that?) and Maeve Binchy are the same way--if I didn't keep a list, I'd never remember which ones to check out from the library. And life is too short to repeat a book. I almost never re-read a book; there are too many great ones I haven't read yet.
So after loading up an armful at the library yesterday, I'm ready to sit down and write about what I've read lately, and what I'm about to read. Let me start with the Best Read of 2007. (Yes, I know it's only May, and I actually read it several months ago, but there can't be a book I'll like better this year. I'm sure of it.)
Peace Like a River, by Lief Enger. I saw this on Boomama's list of books to read, and let me tell you, I have quite possibly never read a book that I fell more in love with. I have loved some characters better (Hadassah from Rivers' Mark of the Lion series comes to mind instantly), and I have loved some plots better (Ted Dekker's Three ate me up. I read that book in literally one sitting. My read end was like a block of lead when I got up, and I think I suffered several mini-cardiac arrests in the middle of it. It was that riveting.) But as for the total package, this book did it for me. Some of his writing was so beautiful, so completely fresh and unused, that I literally held my breath. His word choices were genius, and I came away from that book feeling like the gift of writing had been completely endowed on one person, Enger, and that the rest of the fiction at my library was written by the minor leagues. He was that good. So good, in fact, I'd read it again. And then again.
As I finish that paragraph I realize I've told you nothing of the plot, but if I do, it'll ruin the story. Just read it.
And in the vein of truly good writing, A Girl Named Zippy, by Haven Kimmel, was also fantastic. The story alone is unbelievable, but it becomes believable because it's her actual life story. The people, especially Zippy herself, are so quirky, so lovable, and so flawed, that I fell in love with them immediately. And her writing is so tight--she pulls you in, lays you out, and makes you laugh and cry in one single breath. She's good.
I was sent a book called Unbroken, by Tracy Elliott, by a publicist to review. It's an autobiography of a woman who actually lives in a town a few miles from me, and her story is hard to read, fascinating, and triumphant. She was born to alcoholic parents, orphaned, and then raised in a house with several abusive alcoholic uncles. She grew up to become a stripper, drug abuser, and alcoholic herself before she was able to climb out of the pit and overcome her beginnings. Her faith in Jesus and her determination to do life differently are encouraging and inspiring. She went on to become Mrs. Texas, and I believe she's in the Mrs. America pageant this year. I have to say that the writing was not fabulous; instead it reads very much like a real person telling her life story. And I think if it had been fabulous, it would've taken away some of the authenticity of it. It's a hard read; she tells details of her uncles' abuse and their alcoholic rages that are graphic, so I wouldn't recommend it for anyone other than an adult. But it will give you eyes and ears and a heart for the people who might sit next to you in church who didn't have it as easy as you, if you had it easy. And if you didn't, it'll remind you that there are others out there who were hurt deeply but are now living an abundant life, just like you. And if you're somewhere in between, it'll give you hope. That's an accomplishment in a first book!
And then I read Deception by Randy Alcorn. This is the third in a series; the first was Deadline, followed by Dominion. This was another I read in one day, which tells you how suspenseful it was: it was almost 500 pages long. I read it Sunday and didn't do much else. I glanced at the clock at 10:30 that night, looked back at my book, and decided to sacrifice sleep for the satisfaction of finding out the ending. And it didn't disappoint. Speaking of Randy Alcorn, I've read all of his books, and I've liked all of them. Some of them get a little preachy, but that is his goal; he can't keep any of the money he makes off of them because of some judgment against him from years and years ago (for his part in a protest, if my memory serves me correctly), so he makes sure each of his books spells out the gospel of Jesus Christ very clearly. But the story line in all three of these books is right on, and if you like mystery, forensics, and detectives (think Law & Order), this is for you.
And rounding the bases of this installment is James Patterson's novel, Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas. I would be lying to you if I didn't admit that I bought it a year ago, stuck in my nightstand, and only read it Tuesday because I didn't have anything else to read. I cracked open the book when I got in the bathtub, and two hours later I emerged, crying my head off, wrinkled as a prune, and finishing the last page. Why, oh why, did I not read this book when I bought it last year? It was wonderful. I couldn't even tell you if the writing was great--the story itself was such a page-turner that I don't remember. I loved it so much that I picked up one of his other novels yesterday at the library. He doesn't normally write about relationships, and I don't normally like books about relationships, but his lone ranger book was so good I have to see if it was a shot in the dark, or if I've just found a new author. I'll let you know!
And I forgot this one while originally typing this post, but can't possibly finish without it: Wish You Well, by David Baldacci. This is a close second for Best Read of 2007. I saw it in Barnes & Noble and it looked and sounded good, so I bought it. I admit it: I completely judge a book by two things, its cover and its title. If I like both, I'll read the front cover. If I like all three, I'll read the book. Wish You Well is a little like the book I mentioned above, because it's a departure for the author. He normally write a very different genre, but this is the extremely poignant story of a girl and her little brother after a great tragedy. That's all I can say about that; I don't want to ruin anything. But I will say that this book made me think. It made me mad. It made me laugh, and cry, and want to work hard, and want to write well. The story is riveting, and the ending is breathtaking. I'll have to wait a few years so I forget how it ends, but this is another I'd read again. It was beautiful. If I'd only read Peace Like a River and Wish You Well this year, I'd still consider it one of my best years, reading-wise, ever. I realize I'm a nobody in the literary world--actually, way, way less than a nobody; I'm absolutely nonexistent since I've never actually even written anything, but even so, the fact that I just said that about somebody's work should make both of their mothers proud.
Okay, that's it for today. I'm looking at Debbie Macomber's The Shop on Blossom Street, Garrison Keillor's Lake Wobegone Days, Davis Bunn's Winner Take All and The Great Divide, David Baldacci's Absolute Power, and Patterson's Kiss the Girls, all up at bat on my nighstand. I've got some reading to do!
And since I am always, always looking for a great read, let me know your absolute, #1 favorite in my comments! It can be Christian or not, any type of fiction, and even non-fiction, if you promise me it's riveting and not any type of self-improvement book. I read for fun, folks. Just nothing super-scary or gory, and nothing with language or scenes that will make me blush. :-)
When I was a little girl I'd visit my dad in Denver for a couple weeks each summer, and I remember driving down Colfax with him, my nose in a book, again. He gave me a hard time that day--I don't blame him; he only saw me a few times a year, and I spent most of the visits reading. I'll never forget trying to explain why I loved books that much. Besides, it was the crux of the Sweet Valley High craze, and I was immersed in the drama that only Jessica and Elizabeth Wakefield and their Spider Fiat could summon.
As the years have passed, my avid reading has come and gone in spurts. I usually read a lot more during certain months than others. I keep a reading journal to record what I've read each year, mostly so I won't repeat, and so if I love a specific author, I can keep track of what I've read from him or her. John Grisham has about 42 million books, so I know which ones I've read (all but one). The Thoenes (pronounce Tay-knee--did you know that?) and Maeve Binchy are the same way--if I didn't keep a list, I'd never remember which ones to check out from the library. And life is too short to repeat a book. I almost never re-read a book; there are too many great ones I haven't read yet.
So after loading up an armful at the library yesterday, I'm ready to sit down and write about what I've read lately, and what I'm about to read. Let me start with the Best Read of 2007. (Yes, I know it's only May, and I actually read it several months ago, but there can't be a book I'll like better this year. I'm sure of it.)
Peace Like a River, by Lief Enger. I saw this on Boomama's list of books to read, and let me tell you, I have quite possibly never read a book that I fell more in love with. I have loved some characters better (Hadassah from Rivers' Mark of the Lion series comes to mind instantly), and I have loved some plots better (Ted Dekker's Three ate me up. I read that book in literally one sitting. My read end was like a block of lead when I got up, and I think I suffered several mini-cardiac arrests in the middle of it. It was that riveting.) But as for the total package, this book did it for me. Some of his writing was so beautiful, so completely fresh and unused, that I literally held my breath. His word choices were genius, and I came away from that book feeling like the gift of writing had been completely endowed on one person, Enger, and that the rest of the fiction at my library was written by the minor leagues. He was that good. So good, in fact, I'd read it again. And then again.
As I finish that paragraph I realize I've told you nothing of the plot, but if I do, it'll ruin the story. Just read it.
And in the vein of truly good writing, A Girl Named Zippy, by Haven Kimmel, was also fantastic. The story alone is unbelievable, but it becomes believable because it's her actual life story. The people, especially Zippy herself, are so quirky, so lovable, and so flawed, that I fell in love with them immediately. And her writing is so tight--she pulls you in, lays you out, and makes you laugh and cry in one single breath. She's good.
I was sent a book called Unbroken, by Tracy Elliott, by a publicist to review. It's an autobiography of a woman who actually lives in a town a few miles from me, and her story is hard to read, fascinating, and triumphant. She was born to alcoholic parents, orphaned, and then raised in a house with several abusive alcoholic uncles. She grew up to become a stripper, drug abuser, and alcoholic herself before she was able to climb out of the pit and overcome her beginnings. Her faith in Jesus and her determination to do life differently are encouraging and inspiring. She went on to become Mrs. Texas, and I believe she's in the Mrs. America pageant this year. I have to say that the writing was not fabulous; instead it reads very much like a real person telling her life story. And I think if it had been fabulous, it would've taken away some of the authenticity of it. It's a hard read; she tells details of her uncles' abuse and their alcoholic rages that are graphic, so I wouldn't recommend it for anyone other than an adult. But it will give you eyes and ears and a heart for the people who might sit next to you in church who didn't have it as easy as you, if you had it easy. And if you didn't, it'll remind you that there are others out there who were hurt deeply but are now living an abundant life, just like you. And if you're somewhere in between, it'll give you hope. That's an accomplishment in a first book!
And then I read Deception by Randy Alcorn. This is the third in a series; the first was Deadline, followed by Dominion. This was another I read in one day, which tells you how suspenseful it was: it was almost 500 pages long. I read it Sunday and didn't do much else. I glanced at the clock at 10:30 that night, looked back at my book, and decided to sacrifice sleep for the satisfaction of finding out the ending. And it didn't disappoint. Speaking of Randy Alcorn, I've read all of his books, and I've liked all of them. Some of them get a little preachy, but that is his goal; he can't keep any of the money he makes off of them because of some judgment against him from years and years ago (for his part in a protest, if my memory serves me correctly), so he makes sure each of his books spells out the gospel of Jesus Christ very clearly. But the story line in all three of these books is right on, and if you like mystery, forensics, and detectives (think Law & Order), this is for you.
And rounding the bases of this installment is James Patterson's novel, Suzanne's Diary for Nicholas. I would be lying to you if I didn't admit that I bought it a year ago, stuck in my nightstand, and only read it Tuesday because I didn't have anything else to read. I cracked open the book when I got in the bathtub, and two hours later I emerged, crying my head off, wrinkled as a prune, and finishing the last page. Why, oh why, did I not read this book when I bought it last year? It was wonderful. I couldn't even tell you if the writing was great--the story itself was such a page-turner that I don't remember. I loved it so much that I picked up one of his other novels yesterday at the library. He doesn't normally write about relationships, and I don't normally like books about relationships, but his lone ranger book was so good I have to see if it was a shot in the dark, or if I've just found a new author. I'll let you know!
And I forgot this one while originally typing this post, but can't possibly finish without it: Wish You Well, by David Baldacci. This is a close second for Best Read of 2007. I saw it in Barnes & Noble and it looked and sounded good, so I bought it. I admit it: I completely judge a book by two things, its cover and its title. If I like both, I'll read the front cover. If I like all three, I'll read the book. Wish You Well is a little like the book I mentioned above, because it's a departure for the author. He normally write a very different genre, but this is the extremely poignant story of a girl and her little brother after a great tragedy. That's all I can say about that; I don't want to ruin anything. But I will say that this book made me think. It made me mad. It made me laugh, and cry, and want to work hard, and want to write well. The story is riveting, and the ending is breathtaking. I'll have to wait a few years so I forget how it ends, but this is another I'd read again. It was beautiful. If I'd only read Peace Like a River and Wish You Well this year, I'd still consider it one of my best years, reading-wise, ever. I realize I'm a nobody in the literary world--actually, way, way less than a nobody; I'm absolutely nonexistent since I've never actually even written anything, but even so, the fact that I just said that about somebody's work should make both of their mothers proud.
Okay, that's it for today. I'm looking at Debbie Macomber's The Shop on Blossom Street, Garrison Keillor's Lake Wobegone Days, Davis Bunn's Winner Take All and The Great Divide, David Baldacci's Absolute Power, and Patterson's Kiss the Girls, all up at bat on my nighstand. I've got some reading to do!
And since I am always, always looking for a great read, let me know your absolute, #1 favorite in my comments! It can be Christian or not, any type of fiction, and even non-fiction, if you promise me it's riveting and not any type of self-improvement book. I read for fun, folks. Just nothing super-scary or gory, and nothing with language or scenes that will make me blush. :-)
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Shedding Some Light on the Situation, and Then Just Rambling Aimlessly and Embarrassingly
I promise that I really didn't hide the reason for my electrocution conductive nerve study (see post below) on purpose. But it has been so fun to have you wonder why I subjected myself willingly to being shocked for forty-five minutes. And I'd love to give you conclusive results to the test, except they haven't come in yet. Or, at least, my doctor hasn't bothered to read them yet. Mind you, that test was taken May 4th. I did, finally, call the office yesterday and explain that I've been scheduled for physical therapy, and that my insurance probably won't want to cover it if it's unnecessary, and that I could really use some results, you know. Not to mention it just seems cruel and unusual to withhold results for that long.
Okay, sorry. I'm still being obscure. I have a hand weakness. It's hard to explain, but over the past few years my handwriting is getting sloppier, and I'm having a hard time forming certain letters. If I'd had crummy handwriting to begin with, I might've never noticed, but I've always liked my writing, so it has become annoying. When I mentioned it to my parents, they thought I should probably check it out. I finally went to the doctor, a post which could be written and fully top any other post I've ever written, but I just don't have the strength. Even thinking back on it makes me tired. Three small children and a waiting room will do that to you. Anyway, the doctor tentatively ruled out a problem in my brain and suggested I be shocked. You know the word "brain" scares me when "shocked" sounds appealing.
Anyway, I had the study--a nice word for "shocked over and over and over"--done a few weeks ago, and then had a follow-up with a neurologist. Other than the fact that my pupils were crazily dancing back and forth when he told me to follow his finger with my eyes (due to three cups of coffee and no breakfast!), I seem to have passed. He did start the appointment with the words "MRI, bloodwork, EMG (the test that not only shocks you, but sticks needles into you at the same time), and brain lesion," which made me wonder what would happen if I passed out while sitting on his little table covered in paper. After he stuck me with needles he decided it's carpal tunnel syndrome and told me to wear an attractive black wrist brace at night (just kidding about the attractive part) and get therapy.
So now I'm thinking that if the results would just come back conclusive for nerve damage in the carpal tunnel area, I'd feel a little bit better.
Not that I'm critically worried. Y'all don't need to think I've been away from the blog due to stress and worry. Actually, I've just been occupied with other stuff. Addison has decided to cut an entire mouthful of teeth at once--not an exaggeration; she has had four teeth erupt in the last two weeks, with four more following--my sister and I are squeezing in every last drop of togetherness we can before she moves next week, and I've returned to my first hobby-love: reading.
And speaking of reading, it's the perfect hobby for you carpal tunnel syndrome compatriats. All of you who are wearing attractive black wrist braces to bed. None of my other hobbies are good for my problem. Journal writing, typing, knitting, crocheting, piano playing--I'm surprised I can even write my name :) So I've been reading like crazy, which happens to steal into blogging time, but I've read such great books lately that I can't even feel guilty. And all that to say that I'm going to write a post this week about what I've read--I love my mom dearly, but she reads things like Simplify Your Time, while I read books so full of suspense and drama that I stay up until 2 a.m. finishing them. I know she'll leave me a comment protesting, saying she reads fun books, but they're one in ten, at the most. With books like How to Read a Book and How to Dust a Lampshade (just kidding about the second one) on her nighstand, I feel it's my duty as her daughter to do a review on my blog of the great books I've read, so she'll be inspired to read at least one.
Okay. This officially rates as my most random, least exciting post ever, so I'm quitting while I'm behind. It goes to show you lose what you don't practice. Or something to that effect. I've completely botched that saying, which I'll attribute to my carpal tunnel. Or something.
Happy Tuesday night, y'all, and I'll see you back here soon! (If I haven't just lost you due to the long and rambling post about wrist nerves and suspenseful books, that is.)
Okay, sorry. I'm still being obscure. I have a hand weakness. It's hard to explain, but over the past few years my handwriting is getting sloppier, and I'm having a hard time forming certain letters. If I'd had crummy handwriting to begin with, I might've never noticed, but I've always liked my writing, so it has become annoying. When I mentioned it to my parents, they thought I should probably check it out. I finally went to the doctor, a post which could be written and fully top any other post I've ever written, but I just don't have the strength. Even thinking back on it makes me tired. Three small children and a waiting room will do that to you. Anyway, the doctor tentatively ruled out a problem in my brain and suggested I be shocked. You know the word "brain" scares me when "shocked" sounds appealing.
Anyway, I had the study--a nice word for "shocked over and over and over"--done a few weeks ago, and then had a follow-up with a neurologist. Other than the fact that my pupils were crazily dancing back and forth when he told me to follow his finger with my eyes (due to three cups of coffee and no breakfast!), I seem to have passed. He did start the appointment with the words "MRI, bloodwork, EMG (the test that not only shocks you, but sticks needles into you at the same time), and brain lesion," which made me wonder what would happen if I passed out while sitting on his little table covered in paper. After he stuck me with needles he decided it's carpal tunnel syndrome and told me to wear an attractive black wrist brace at night (just kidding about the attractive part) and get therapy.
So now I'm thinking that if the results would just come back conclusive for nerve damage in the carpal tunnel area, I'd feel a little bit better.
Not that I'm critically worried. Y'all don't need to think I've been away from the blog due to stress and worry. Actually, I've just been occupied with other stuff. Addison has decided to cut an entire mouthful of teeth at once--not an exaggeration; she has had four teeth erupt in the last two weeks, with four more following--my sister and I are squeezing in every last drop of togetherness we can before she moves next week, and I've returned to my first hobby-love: reading.
And speaking of reading, it's the perfect hobby for you carpal tunnel syndrome compatriats. All of you who are wearing attractive black wrist braces to bed. None of my other hobbies are good for my problem. Journal writing, typing, knitting, crocheting, piano playing--I'm surprised I can even write my name :) So I've been reading like crazy, which happens to steal into blogging time, but I've read such great books lately that I can't even feel guilty. And all that to say that I'm going to write a post this week about what I've read--I love my mom dearly, but she reads things like Simplify Your Time, while I read books so full of suspense and drama that I stay up until 2 a.m. finishing them. I know she'll leave me a comment protesting, saying she reads fun books, but they're one in ten, at the most. With books like How to Read a Book and How to Dust a Lampshade (just kidding about the second one) on her nighstand, I feel it's my duty as her daughter to do a review on my blog of the great books I've read, so she'll be inspired to read at least one.
Okay. This officially rates as my most random, least exciting post ever, so I'm quitting while I'm behind. It goes to show you lose what you don't practice. Or something to that effect. I've completely botched that saying, which I'll attribute to my carpal tunnel. Or something.
Happy Tuesday night, y'all, and I'll see you back here soon! (If I haven't just lost you due to the long and rambling post about wrist nerves and suspenseful books, that is.)
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Persecution and Electrocution, with a Little Beth Moore Thrown In for Fun
One morning not long ago I left my house and drove to a clinic, with my stomach in my throat. I was on my way to be shocked. I mean literally. A nerve conduction study was being done on me, which is just an educated-sounding and watered-down version of the truth: I was going to be shocked over and over.
So I climbed into my car, turned on the CD, and listened to Beth Moore's message, Crossing Your River of Fear. I thought it to be a timely message, considering I was on my way to my own electrocution. I'd never heard Beth speak before, and I think I was shouting "Hallelujah!" and "Preach it sister!" and "Oh, I know that is true!" just five minutes into it. The message is based on Habakkuk 3:19, which, when read in the Amplified Bible, is fantastic. (It's fantastic in any version; I mean, we are talking God-breathed Scripture here, but in the Amplified version, it comes to life!) Add to that the fact that she mentioned that she once said this: "We need never pray about pink" when asked by a little girl if red was a better choice than pink for a hat. That's when the heavens opened up, and I knew I'd be a devoted Beth fan from then on. Anyone with that kind of wisdom about all things pink was meant to be my friend. Even if only imaginary.
Sorry, I got carried away there. Back to my story. I was wearing my Diet Coke shirt for good measure, because if I couldn't actually bring a real Diet Coke to the electrocution to bolster my confidence, wearing its emblem would be a close second. I signed in, was called back, and sat down before a man, a machine, and a tool that looked suspiciously like a cattle prod. You know, the type with prongs on the end for shocking bovine wanderers. I started to sweat a little, that cold sweat that only makes you panic a little bit more when you realize you are, in fact, sweating the cold sweat.
He looked at me. "Do you advertise for Diet Coke, or do you just drink a lot?"
Oh! A kindred spirit! I brightened, knowing that anybody who truly loves Diet Coke couldn't hurt me. Smiling, I quipped, "Well, I guess I drink enough of it I'm already a walking advertisement. I might as well wear the shirt, too!"
He didn't smile back.
"Pretty nasty habit, there."
And the rest of the conversation was in slow motion, for I could not believe that I was being berated for my one and only vice. Which I then mentioned: "Well, it's my only vice, really." I thought that was pretty good, since I could be engaging in all manner of life-endangering activity. This is the United States, after all.
"You picked the wrong vice, if you're only going to have one." And then he leaned back in his chair and launched into me. "It won't kill you, but once your bones start cracking and breaking all the time, life won't be that fun for you anymore."
And I have to testify that if he not been holding a cattle prod, aimed at my funny bone, I might've mentioned that while my Diet Coke habit might break my bones, his deep belly fat would, in fact, kill him. But like I said, he was holding electricity, and there was nobody in the room to stop him from hurting me more than necessary. To top it off, I have my own little padding of deep belly fat, despite all the yogurt I eat (Those Dairy Council commercials be darned!), and I didn't think it wise to call the kettle black, when I was in fact a little pot myself.
I did, though, feel somewhere deep in my heart that it just wasn't good etiquette to not only shock the living daylights out of me, but to berate me at the same time. Especially considering he's not even a doctor. Again, not a fact I pointed out at the time.
Then the electrocution began, and I need to confess another little thing: when it first started, I was a little smug. I believe the words, "That's it?" and "People actually think this hurts?" came out of my mouth, and then, as pride always comes before a fall, he raised the amps or volume or whatever physics term is relevant here, and shocked the fire out of the knobby bones in my wrist. But I held fast, not even wincing. And then I threw out my taunt, because by this time I was mad. "I have, you know, given birth three times. Twice naturally. Once to a big honkin' baby. This isn't that bad." And to his credit, he did seem astonished and amazed that I was a thrice-blessed mother, which I took to mean that my belly fat isn't that visible, but I think he was referring to my baby face. (These are the moments I know I'm not old yet, because having an eternally-young face still bugs me. By the time it doesn't, I won't have it anymore.) Looking back, a little sass probably bolstered my confidence, because I tolerated the shocking of my right side fairly well. I had a point to prove, after all. If my bones were already brittle from all my Diet Coke imbibing, wouldn't their frailty make the shocking worse? So there.
After a long thirty minutes of being electrocuted--which, by the way, I was also rebuked for when I mentioned the term. He corrected me, saying that if I were being electrocuted, I'd be dead. I wanted to say, "Hey, that's easy for you to say, since you're the one holding the electrodes, not the one on the receiving end," but again, I was chicken.--he switched sides, and then my bravado slipped away. And I knew for a fact in that moment that I must have some serious nerve damage, because my good arm? Let's just say that I will never ever commit a crime worthy of the death penalty because if a little doctor-approved shock can hurt that badly, I shudder to think what the real deal would feel like. I just about came out of that chair, especially when he shocked my funny bone. That's just ugly, folks. The funny bone isn't funny as it is, but when you add electricity to insult, it's enough to make you break out into the cold sweat all over again.
And then, mercifully, it was over. I thanked him--I know that's insane, but good manners have been deeply ingrained into my brain from my parents--and walked out, surprised I wasn't quivering or twitching or something. I drove home, again shouting "Hallelujah!" with Beth, and this time feeling it even more deeply, went straight to my stash, and pulled out a Diet Coke, to celebrate. And then I took a calcium pill, just in case. And sucked in my stomach. And twitched, just a little.
So I climbed into my car, turned on the CD, and listened to Beth Moore's message, Crossing Your River of Fear. I thought it to be a timely message, considering I was on my way to my own electrocution. I'd never heard Beth speak before, and I think I was shouting "Hallelujah!" and "Preach it sister!" and "Oh, I know that is true!" just five minutes into it. The message is based on Habakkuk 3:19, which, when read in the Amplified Bible, is fantastic. (It's fantastic in any version; I mean, we are talking God-breathed Scripture here, but in the Amplified version, it comes to life!) Add to that the fact that she mentioned that she once said this: "We need never pray about pink" when asked by a little girl if red was a better choice than pink for a hat. That's when the heavens opened up, and I knew I'd be a devoted Beth fan from then on. Anyone with that kind of wisdom about all things pink was meant to be my friend. Even if only imaginary.
Sorry, I got carried away there. Back to my story. I was wearing my Diet Coke shirt for good measure, because if I couldn't actually bring a real Diet Coke to the electrocution to bolster my confidence, wearing its emblem would be a close second. I signed in, was called back, and sat down before a man, a machine, and a tool that looked suspiciously like a cattle prod. You know, the type with prongs on the end for shocking bovine wanderers. I started to sweat a little, that cold sweat that only makes you panic a little bit more when you realize you are, in fact, sweating the cold sweat.
He looked at me. "Do you advertise for Diet Coke, or do you just drink a lot?"
Oh! A kindred spirit! I brightened, knowing that anybody who truly loves Diet Coke couldn't hurt me. Smiling, I quipped, "Well, I guess I drink enough of it I'm already a walking advertisement. I might as well wear the shirt, too!"
He didn't smile back.
"Pretty nasty habit, there."
And the rest of the conversation was in slow motion, for I could not believe that I was being berated for my one and only vice. Which I then mentioned: "Well, it's my only vice, really." I thought that was pretty good, since I could be engaging in all manner of life-endangering activity. This is the United States, after all.
"You picked the wrong vice, if you're only going to have one." And then he leaned back in his chair and launched into me. "It won't kill you, but once your bones start cracking and breaking all the time, life won't be that fun for you anymore."
And I have to testify that if he not been holding a cattle prod, aimed at my funny bone, I might've mentioned that while my Diet Coke habit might break my bones, his deep belly fat would, in fact, kill him. But like I said, he was holding electricity, and there was nobody in the room to stop him from hurting me more than necessary. To top it off, I have my own little padding of deep belly fat, despite all the yogurt I eat (Those Dairy Council commercials be darned!), and I didn't think it wise to call the kettle black, when I was in fact a little pot myself.
I did, though, feel somewhere deep in my heart that it just wasn't good etiquette to not only shock the living daylights out of me, but to berate me at the same time. Especially considering he's not even a doctor. Again, not a fact I pointed out at the time.
Then the electrocution began, and I need to confess another little thing: when it first started, I was a little smug. I believe the words, "That's it?" and "People actually think this hurts?" came out of my mouth, and then, as pride always comes before a fall, he raised the amps or volume or whatever physics term is relevant here, and shocked the fire out of the knobby bones in my wrist. But I held fast, not even wincing. And then I threw out my taunt, because by this time I was mad. "I have, you know, given birth three times. Twice naturally. Once to a big honkin' baby. This isn't that bad." And to his credit, he did seem astonished and amazed that I was a thrice-blessed mother, which I took to mean that my belly fat isn't that visible, but I think he was referring to my baby face. (These are the moments I know I'm not old yet, because having an eternally-young face still bugs me. By the time it doesn't, I won't have it anymore.) Looking back, a little sass probably bolstered my confidence, because I tolerated the shocking of my right side fairly well. I had a point to prove, after all. If my bones were already brittle from all my Diet Coke imbibing, wouldn't their frailty make the shocking worse? So there.
After a long thirty minutes of being electrocuted--which, by the way, I was also rebuked for when I mentioned the term. He corrected me, saying that if I were being electrocuted, I'd be dead. I wanted to say, "Hey, that's easy for you to say, since you're the one holding the electrodes, not the one on the receiving end," but again, I was chicken.--he switched sides, and then my bravado slipped away. And I knew for a fact in that moment that I must have some serious nerve damage, because my good arm? Let's just say that I will never ever commit a crime worthy of the death penalty because if a little doctor-approved shock can hurt that badly, I shudder to think what the real deal would feel like. I just about came out of that chair, especially when he shocked my funny bone. That's just ugly, folks. The funny bone isn't funny as it is, but when you add electricity to insult, it's enough to make you break out into the cold sweat all over again.
And then, mercifully, it was over. I thanked him--I know that's insane, but good manners have been deeply ingrained into my brain from my parents--and walked out, surprised I wasn't quivering or twitching or something. I drove home, again shouting "Hallelujah!" with Beth, and this time feeling it even more deeply, went straight to my stash, and pulled out a Diet Coke, to celebrate. And then I took a calcium pill, just in case. And sucked in my stomach. And twitched, just a little.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
On This Mother's Day
Excepting my salvation, nothing has more changed and shaped my heart and life than being a mother. I can’t think of a single incident in my life that has impacted me more. Challenged me harder. Stretched my faith wider and deeper. Opened my eyes to my sinful heart more clearly. I can, in the space of five minutes, reach the heights of Best Mom Ever-hood and then immediately turn and plummet to the depths of Worst Mother Ever-hood. I am a saint. I am a sinner. I am eternally patient. I am hopelessly quick-tempered. I can turn into a lioness, claws extended, if I think one of my babies is in danger. And I can put their hunger or dirty diapers off five more minutes just so I can finish a thought, or a chapter, or a post (Ouch!).
When those two pink lines appeared on the stick, a lightning bolt to the head would’ve better helped clue me in that life as I formerly knew it was OVER. Terminated. I should’ve begun some serious, in-depth Bible study and counseling! Instead I naively bought maternity wear, planned a nursery, and watched my belly button morph daily, fascinated. I had no idea that the squirming, wrinkly bundle handed to me was capable of such life-shattering chaos. Or such heart-wrenching love. Now that first bundle is a real boy, Pinnochio-style. He’s growing like a weed. Eating like a beggar. He calls me his princess and reminds me that we’re getting married one day. He laughs at my jokes and hugs my neck with strong, skinny arms. I don’t deserve him.
Isn’t that what motherhood is about? We receive a gift from God that we in no way deserve, and it does more to demonstrate grace than any other. We are entrusted with something tiny, fragile, and needy, and we’re expected to turn that bundle into a fully-grown adult, ready to walk into the world with a faith and love for Him that will make a difference in this hungry world. It’s a hard job, and one that seems endless on days when the stomach virus strikes, bad attitudes persist, or potty training seems hopeless. To think that I, as flawed as I am, have been entrusted with not one but three of these gifts reminds me that He doesn’t see me as a lost cause. He knows my lack, and He offers Himself to make up for it. When I wrap my mind around that truth, I am a little shocked, and a lot grateful.
On this Mother’s Day, I think of two women who have shaped my life and heart—one from my first days, the other from the beginning of my adulthood. My mother and my mother-in-law are different women, with different gifts, but they have much in common. They each raised three children amidst turmoil, upheaval, and largely without outside help. Yet they both did it with joy, with grace, and created many memories that we six children remember, especially as we seek to raise our own children. Both love the Lord with passion, both love their husbands and children with great heart, and both are to be praised this Mother’s Day, as their examples continue to encourage me to press on in my own walk of motherhood. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. You and I go way back. :-) And Happy Mother’s Day, Lynn. I am the blessed one.
And Lord, thank You! for Mother’s Day, and for these three wonderful bundles You’ve shared with me. What a trip we’re on together!
When those two pink lines appeared on the stick, a lightning bolt to the head would’ve better helped clue me in that life as I formerly knew it was OVER. Terminated. I should’ve begun some serious, in-depth Bible study and counseling! Instead I naively bought maternity wear, planned a nursery, and watched my belly button morph daily, fascinated. I had no idea that the squirming, wrinkly bundle handed to me was capable of such life-shattering chaos. Or such heart-wrenching love. Now that first bundle is a real boy, Pinnochio-style. He’s growing like a weed. Eating like a beggar. He calls me his princess and reminds me that we’re getting married one day. He laughs at my jokes and hugs my neck with strong, skinny arms. I don’t deserve him.
Isn’t that what motherhood is about? We receive a gift from God that we in no way deserve, and it does more to demonstrate grace than any other. We are entrusted with something tiny, fragile, and needy, and we’re expected to turn that bundle into a fully-grown adult, ready to walk into the world with a faith and love for Him that will make a difference in this hungry world. It’s a hard job, and one that seems endless on days when the stomach virus strikes, bad attitudes persist, or potty training seems hopeless. To think that I, as flawed as I am, have been entrusted with not one but three of these gifts reminds me that He doesn’t see me as a lost cause. He knows my lack, and He offers Himself to make up for it. When I wrap my mind around that truth, I am a little shocked, and a lot grateful.
On this Mother’s Day, I think of two women who have shaped my life and heart—one from my first days, the other from the beginning of my adulthood. My mother and my mother-in-law are different women, with different gifts, but they have much in common. They each raised three children amidst turmoil, upheaval, and largely without outside help. Yet they both did it with joy, with grace, and created many memories that we six children remember, especially as we seek to raise our own children. Both love the Lord with passion, both love their husbands and children with great heart, and both are to be praised this Mother’s Day, as their examples continue to encourage me to press on in my own walk of motherhood. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. You and I go way back. :-) And Happy Mother’s Day, Lynn. I am the blessed one.
And Lord, thank You! for Mother’s Day, and for these three wonderful bundles You’ve shared with me. What a trip we’re on together!
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Happy Birthday, Baby
May 08, 2007
Dear Addison,
I planted you a climbing rose bush today for your birthday. I was going to get you the American Girl baby doll, but since you haven't caught the baby doll bug yet, I'll save it for Christmas.
So I went with roses instead. It's a beautiful little bush, with slender branches and delicate leaves. And it is virtually covered with beautiful, tiny roses in a vibrant, rich shade of red. I would've chosen pink, but your personality is more red than pink. Your rose bush is in a hidden corner of the yard that, before this weekend, was a forgotten patch of mud and weeds on the side of the house. Daddy asked me why I didn't plant your roses somewhere everybody would see them, and I told him they symbolize what I believe your life will be: a hidden spot of beauty and color that surprises and brightens the darkest corner. You are just like that rose bush--you are tiny and delicate, a miniature among your friends, but with a personality that is full of impact. As the nursery workers said this weekend, you may be small, but you hold your own. And you were a surprise, from your conception, to your various diagnoses and surgeries, and you continue to surprise us everyday, doing things we were told not to expect. You are the best surprise.
I also planted several daylilies in the same garden. I love daylilies. Not only are they cheerful, but their daily blooms remind me that God's mercies are new every single day. He has given us so many new mercies these past 12 months of your life. Never forget that, sweet girl. No matter what challenges stand in your path, God's arms are filled with mercy and grace, just waiting for you to run to Him to take what you need.
And then I planted groundcover. It's dark green, with tiny purple flowers, and it'll eventually cover the entire bed, luring butterflies to its blossoms. A good foundation is essential. Not only will your Daddy and I take care of you medically, physically, and emotionally, but we will make sure your spiritual foundation is rock-solid. If you learn to love the Lord with every breath in you, it will never matter what you can or cannot do. Your life will be full, and joyful, and meaningful.
You are a priceless treasure, Addie. You fit into our family to complete it, and without you we were missing our hidden spot of beauty. God has done mighty, mighty things through you this year, both in yourself, and in your mama and daddy. We are beyond thankful for you, and we want you to know this birthday, your very first one, that you are one of the very best gifts we've ever been given.
One day, when we leave this house, you and I will put on our pink gardening gloves, hoist our shovels, and dig up your rose bush. We will take it with us to our new home, whenever and wherever that may be, and as it grows, we will look at it and see that just as it is growing and maturing in its beauty, you are, too. And someday, when you are grown, that rose bush will be yours to take with you as you start your life as a woman. That is my hope, and each day as I check on your little rose bush, you can count on your mama to pray God's grace and peace, His mercy and care, over your precious little life.
Happy birthday, my love.
Dear Addison,
I planted you a climbing rose bush today for your birthday. I was going to get you the American Girl baby doll, but since you haven't caught the baby doll bug yet, I'll save it for Christmas.
So I went with roses instead. It's a beautiful little bush, with slender branches and delicate leaves. And it is virtually covered with beautiful, tiny roses in a vibrant, rich shade of red. I would've chosen pink, but your personality is more red than pink. Your rose bush is in a hidden corner of the yard that, before this weekend, was a forgotten patch of mud and weeds on the side of the house. Daddy asked me why I didn't plant your roses somewhere everybody would see them, and I told him they symbolize what I believe your life will be: a hidden spot of beauty and color that surprises and brightens the darkest corner. You are just like that rose bush--you are tiny and delicate, a miniature among your friends, but with a personality that is full of impact. As the nursery workers said this weekend, you may be small, but you hold your own. And you were a surprise, from your conception, to your various diagnoses and surgeries, and you continue to surprise us everyday, doing things we were told not to expect. You are the best surprise.
I also planted several daylilies in the same garden. I love daylilies. Not only are they cheerful, but their daily blooms remind me that God's mercies are new every single day. He has given us so many new mercies these past 12 months of your life. Never forget that, sweet girl. No matter what challenges stand in your path, God's arms are filled with mercy and grace, just waiting for you to run to Him to take what you need.
And then I planted groundcover. It's dark green, with tiny purple flowers, and it'll eventually cover the entire bed, luring butterflies to its blossoms. A good foundation is essential. Not only will your Daddy and I take care of you medically, physically, and emotionally, but we will make sure your spiritual foundation is rock-solid. If you learn to love the Lord with every breath in you, it will never matter what you can or cannot do. Your life will be full, and joyful, and meaningful.
You are a priceless treasure, Addie. You fit into our family to complete it, and without you we were missing our hidden spot of beauty. God has done mighty, mighty things through you this year, both in yourself, and in your mama and daddy. We are beyond thankful for you, and we want you to know this birthday, your very first one, that you are one of the very best gifts we've ever been given.
One day, when we leave this house, you and I will put on our pink gardening gloves, hoist our shovels, and dig up your rose bush. We will take it with us to our new home, whenever and wherever that may be, and as it grows, we will look at it and see that just as it is growing and maturing in its beauty, you are, too. And someday, when you are grown, that rose bush will be yours to take with you as you start your life as a woman. That is my hope, and each day as I check on your little rose bush, you can count on your mama to pray God's grace and peace, His mercy and care, over your precious little life.
Happy birthday, my love.
Friday, May 04, 2007
Various and Sundry Pictures
Since I've only posted a million pictures in the last week, I figured I could add some more today. That way I can justify owning my digital camera, since I only print out pictures about twice a year. Some of these serve a purpose; some don't at all. Enjoy!
I wrote yesterday about where I have my quiet time. Since it freaks me out a little to post pictures of my bed, I'm posting this instead:
That Cracker Barrel rocking chair is like Diet Coke to my soul. I come up with excuses to be outside, just to rock in it.
And this is a closeup of one of my coffee mugs. I love it.
For those of you who left me comments apologizing that your quiet time spot is your shower or your carpool line, there's no need to apologize! As you can see from my picture, there is a wheelbarrow in the background, next to a huge hole of muck that won't drain. It's supposed to be where one of my trees is going to be planted (today, Lord willing!), but it won't drain from the rains we had earlier this week, so it's a pit of standing ick. And if you were to look at my quiet time spot from another angle, you'd see a poop scooper, various sun-faded toddler toys, and a large gardening implement that's used to dig out the really big weeds. Why it's in the backyard, I have no idea. All that to say that my spot isn't fantastic at all, except for the 10x10 perimeter right on the patio. That's why I keep my eyes trained on the plants on the table, rather than letting them sneak over to the barren wasteland we refer to as our backyard! If God shows up, it doesn't matter whether you're in a minivan or a mansion. It's glorious, regardless!
And for those of you who kindly remembered and asked about the containers I planted after our disastrous trip to the nursery (Remember the naughty boy flying down the hill toward the expensive fountain? My naughty boy?) The containers turned out really well, in my humble, not-so-green thumb opinion:
And now moving on toward the random. Caiden has deep-seated (seeded?) desires to be a photographer. He steals my camera out of my purse most mornings and takes pictures of whatever his heart desires. Sometimes it's his sister, and he does a great job:
Sometimes, though, this is what I find on my camera:
That would be an extreme close-up of her head.
And sometimes I realize he not only likes to snap the pictures, he also enjoy positioning his subjects, especially the ones who move less than his sister:
These are, for those of you who don't live in little boy land, Playskool knights and pirates. Most mornings before his photo extravaganza, the knights team up with the pirates against the creatures (our name for all rubber lizards, bugs, dinosaurs, etc.), the cowboys and Army men, and the counting bears. He swears the counting bears are the most ferocious of the lot, but I just don't see how anything that looks like a plastic, brightly-colored gummi bear can be lethal. I want you to know that I had a total of eight of these pictures, all of different characters, all posed differently. Even more odd is that I saved all eight pictures. I can't bear to delete them.
And speaking of posing, does Addison not look like a little schoolgirl? Bridget gave me six pairs of these Mary Jane socks for Addie's birthday, and paired with this dress, she looks ready to skip down the street to her Catholic private school. Except she can't skip. And we're not Catholic. And she's not in school. But you get the idea.
These socks have Mary Jane shoes printed on them, and her six pairs are all pastels, so she can wear pink Mary Jane socks with her pink clothes, etc. This is a perfect solution to my problem: Addison has so many pairs of adorable shoes, all of which she can yank off in 0.3 seconds. If these socks came in adult size, I'd wear them. But only around the house. And I'd probably skip.
And that ends today's random pictures, random post session. I do have something to say about Diet Coke and electrocution, but that'll hold for another day.
Happy Friday, y'all!
I wrote yesterday about where I have my quiet time. Since it freaks me out a little to post pictures of my bed, I'm posting this instead:
That Cracker Barrel rocking chair is like Diet Coke to my soul. I come up with excuses to be outside, just to rock in it.And this is a closeup of one of my coffee mugs. I love it.
For those of you who left me comments apologizing that your quiet time spot is your shower or your carpool line, there's no need to apologize! As you can see from my picture, there is a wheelbarrow in the background, next to a huge hole of muck that won't drain. It's supposed to be where one of my trees is going to be planted (today, Lord willing!), but it won't drain from the rains we had earlier this week, so it's a pit of standing ick. And if you were to look at my quiet time spot from another angle, you'd see a poop scooper, various sun-faded toddler toys, and a large gardening implement that's used to dig out the really big weeds. Why it's in the backyard, I have no idea. All that to say that my spot isn't fantastic at all, except for the 10x10 perimeter right on the patio. That's why I keep my eyes trained on the plants on the table, rather than letting them sneak over to the barren wasteland we refer to as our backyard! If God shows up, it doesn't matter whether you're in a minivan or a mansion. It's glorious, regardless!
And for those of you who kindly remembered and asked about the containers I planted after our disastrous trip to the nursery (Remember the naughty boy flying down the hill toward the expensive fountain? My naughty boy?) The containers turned out really well, in my humble, not-so-green thumb opinion:
And now moving on toward the random. Caiden has deep-seated (seeded?) desires to be a photographer. He steals my camera out of my purse most mornings and takes pictures of whatever his heart desires. Sometimes it's his sister, and he does a great job:
Sometimes, though, this is what I find on my camera:
That would be an extreme close-up of her head.And sometimes I realize he not only likes to snap the pictures, he also enjoy positioning his subjects, especially the ones who move less than his sister:
These are, for those of you who don't live in little boy land, Playskool knights and pirates. Most mornings before his photo extravaganza, the knights team up with the pirates against the creatures (our name for all rubber lizards, bugs, dinosaurs, etc.), the cowboys and Army men, and the counting bears. He swears the counting bears are the most ferocious of the lot, but I just don't see how anything that looks like a plastic, brightly-colored gummi bear can be lethal. I want you to know that I had a total of eight of these pictures, all of different characters, all posed differently. Even more odd is that I saved all eight pictures. I can't bear to delete them.
And speaking of posing, does Addison not look like a little schoolgirl? Bridget gave me six pairs of these Mary Jane socks for Addie's birthday, and paired with this dress, she looks ready to skip down the street to her Catholic private school. Except she can't skip. And we're not Catholic. And she's not in school. But you get the idea.
These socks have Mary Jane shoes printed on them, and her six pairs are all pastels, so she can wear pink Mary Jane socks with her pink clothes, etc. This is a perfect solution to my problem: Addison has so many pairs of adorable shoes, all of which she can yank off in 0.3 seconds. If these socks came in adult size, I'd wear them. But only around the house. And I'd probably skip.And that ends today's random pictures, random post session. I do have something to say about Diet Coke and electrocution, but that'll hold for another day.
Happy Friday, y'all!
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Bloom Where You are Planted!
Beth Moore, in her blog, just wrote the sweetest post about where she has her quiet time, complete with pictures of her beautiful backyard. She asks each of her readers to leave a comment saying where their favorite quiet time places are. Which got me wondering--do you have a favorite place to meet with the Lord? I'm sitting in one of two right now, my bed, and if it hadn't rained torrents last night, I'd be sitting in my other one--under my covered patio.
If it's nice outside, I haul my Bible (NKJV Inductive Study Bible), The Message, my quotes journal, my daily journal, higlighters, pens, my computer (to look up verses in Bible commentaries or in different versions at Bible Gateway), my Bible study (Nancy Leigh DeMoss' "Seeking Him"), and my quiet time candle (Yankee Candle's Good Morning) outside and set it all up on the table. And my coffee-can't forget that! It takes me a few minutes of fumbling in the dark to get it all outside without waking up my husband, but the moments of bliss, rocking away and searching His Word with nothing but quiet surrounding me--it's all worth it! I have two Cracker Barrel rockers, which are my Mother's Day gift to myself (if my husband agrees with that plan, that is), and I sit in them and use the iron table to write on. I keep a large potted container at the center of the table, and the shade plants inside it help me pretend I live in a climate with large trees and shady areas. In the morning I can hear the doves call to each other, and not much else. It's my little slice of heaven on earth.
If Chris has left the house early to go work out, though, I stay indoors, firmly planted on my bed. I'm a big believer in a beautifully-attired bed, and I will sacrifice food and even Diet Coke if the budget is tight, when I'm shopping for bedding. I used to have linen sheets, and they were so stinkin' expensive that they were the only set we had. If I forgot to do laundry, we'd end up sleeping on a bare mattress! Right now our bed is covered in a down comforter. I have a velvety duvet cover, but it's so heavy that I only use it in the colder months. I love European pillows that are large and square to lean against, and my sleeping pillow is down and so squishy my head sinks right into it. I keep a vase of fresh flowers on my nighstand and light my same Yankee candle during my quiet time. How fast the candle burns down is a tangible sign to me of how much time I've been spending with the Lord!
So that's where I spend my quiet time. Beth asked for a concise description, which taxes me beyond words, but I left one in her comments. But here I can ramble as much as I want, so I did. :-) If you have a favorite place to spend with the Lord, where is it? You can leave her a (concise) comment at her site, but would you also leave me one, if you have time? I think even just reading about others' time with the Lord is an encouragement to have my own on a daily basis--it's easy to get out of the habit, and creating a place that's peaceful and pretty helps me be more diligent to meet with Him often!
And if you don't have a place that's pretty or peaceful to meet with Him, don't despair. When my children are newborns, it's all I can do to brush my teeth on a daily basis, and during times of severe stress or obligation (i.e. When Addie has been in the hospital), my quiet time has been in snippets throughout the day, of prayers tossed toward heaven, and snatches of Scripture here and there. I keep a good devotional on the back of each toilet for those seasons in life.
Bloom where you are planted--whether it's somewhere peaceful and pretty, somewhere noisy and hectic, or somewhere stressful and sterile, like the hospital. Regardless of where you are physically, God's Word still has amazing power to transform, complete, and comfort. So where do you meet with Him?
If it's nice outside, I haul my Bible (NKJV Inductive Study Bible), The Message, my quotes journal, my daily journal, higlighters, pens, my computer (to look up verses in Bible commentaries or in different versions at Bible Gateway), my Bible study (Nancy Leigh DeMoss' "Seeking Him"), and my quiet time candle (Yankee Candle's Good Morning) outside and set it all up on the table. And my coffee-can't forget that! It takes me a few minutes of fumbling in the dark to get it all outside without waking up my husband, but the moments of bliss, rocking away and searching His Word with nothing but quiet surrounding me--it's all worth it! I have two Cracker Barrel rockers, which are my Mother's Day gift to myself (if my husband agrees with that plan, that is), and I sit in them and use the iron table to write on. I keep a large potted container at the center of the table, and the shade plants inside it help me pretend I live in a climate with large trees and shady areas. In the morning I can hear the doves call to each other, and not much else. It's my little slice of heaven on earth.
If Chris has left the house early to go work out, though, I stay indoors, firmly planted on my bed. I'm a big believer in a beautifully-attired bed, and I will sacrifice food and even Diet Coke if the budget is tight, when I'm shopping for bedding. I used to have linen sheets, and they were so stinkin' expensive that they were the only set we had. If I forgot to do laundry, we'd end up sleeping on a bare mattress! Right now our bed is covered in a down comforter. I have a velvety duvet cover, but it's so heavy that I only use it in the colder months. I love European pillows that are large and square to lean against, and my sleeping pillow is down and so squishy my head sinks right into it. I keep a vase of fresh flowers on my nighstand and light my same Yankee candle during my quiet time. How fast the candle burns down is a tangible sign to me of how much time I've been spending with the Lord!
So that's where I spend my quiet time. Beth asked for a concise description, which taxes me beyond words, but I left one in her comments. But here I can ramble as much as I want, so I did. :-) If you have a favorite place to spend with the Lord, where is it? You can leave her a (concise) comment at her site, but would you also leave me one, if you have time? I think even just reading about others' time with the Lord is an encouragement to have my own on a daily basis--it's easy to get out of the habit, and creating a place that's peaceful and pretty helps me be more diligent to meet with Him often!
And if you don't have a place that's pretty or peaceful to meet with Him, don't despair. When my children are newborns, it's all I can do to brush my teeth on a daily basis, and during times of severe stress or obligation (i.e. When Addie has been in the hospital), my quiet time has been in snippets throughout the day, of prayers tossed toward heaven, and snatches of Scripture here and there. I keep a good devotional on the back of each toilet for those seasons in life.
Bloom where you are planted--whether it's somewhere peaceful and pretty, somewhere noisy and hectic, or somewhere stressful and sterile, like the hospital. Regardless of where you are physically, God's Word still has amazing power to transform, complete, and comfort. So where do you meet with Him?
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
The Waltons Have Me to Thank for Their Billions
I got a Sam's card.
That sentence required its own paragraph because it's that monumental. I've never had a Sam's card and have, in fact, only been inside a Sam's a handful of times. But Sam's is responsible for fantastic, inexpensive, adorable cupcakes, and I was in need of oh, about 120 of them for Addie's party. (And I got the 120 for under $45. You can't beat that with a stick.) Sam's also has beautiful flowers that somehow stay alive (Well, "fresh," I guess, since technically they're dead once they're picked.) for weeks.
So I got a Sam's card.
And today I needed to pick up some of those amazing flowers to give to a friend, as well as dog food and shampoo. I realize that the shampoo was destined to come in a 100 ounce container, but I didn't see any purpose in going to Sam's and Wal Mart if I didn't have to. So 100 ounces it is. And that's okay, except that I have a new-product fetish, and I like to buy my products in small packages, so I can buy new varieties regularly. With a 100 ounce bottle of shampoo, I'm going to have to overcome that addiction, because it's likely I'll still be using it in the year 2042.
And there was my mistake. I strolled into the warehouse with a list of three items, two of which could've been purchased at Wal Mart, and was immediately captivated by this vase:
Don't you just love those roses around the rim? So then I had to purchase more flowers to put in that vase. Because as much as I love the friend I was buying the flowers for, I had no intention of giving that vase away.
So then I saw these:
And everybody knows you might as well buy five large avocadoes as one. I mean, you need at least three to make guacamole, and I believe my relationship with guacamole has been well-documented.
And then I saw strawberries and cherry tomatoes in enormous containers and had to buy them, because when my fruit and vegetables rot in the fridge after I forget to eat them because I'd rather eat chocolate than food that is good for me, why not let three pounds rot, instead of one?
And then, folks, it all started to fall apart. I found the exact perfect light fixture to install in our guest bathroom, and since Chris and I had discussed the possibility of tackling that project sometime this fall, there's no time like early May to take care of the purchase. After all, this is a warehouse, and what if the perfect fixture isn't there in October? I shudder to think of it.
And since we all know I have smoke alarm issues, I had to buy these:
Except what I didn't notice at the time (because I was overcome by the pheromones Sam's puts out that make me buy things I don't want or need) was that these smoke alarms aren't just the alarms, they're entire kits to be installed into the ceiling. I don't need the entire kit, I just need the alarm part.
And since I still needed dog food, I had to walk down the food aisles to find the dog food, and I found these:
Everybody knows you need 36 packages of Ramen Noodles. And you might as well have a dozen cans of Spaghettios to go with, to complete the pseudo-pasta extravaganza.
And it was at this point that I shook myself out of my warehouse-shopping delirium and fled to the cashier, before I bought a big-screen TV or diamond ring. Because the desire was that strong.
And now that I'm home, searching for somewhere to store 36 packages of Ramen Noodles, I realize that like most dangerous substances, shopping at Sam's should be closely monitored. Very closely.
The problem is that I have to return the smoke alarms. Maybe I should take Chris with me next time. Because that 98 ounce can of pork and beans was calling my name.
That sentence required its own paragraph because it's that monumental. I've never had a Sam's card and have, in fact, only been inside a Sam's a handful of times. But Sam's is responsible for fantastic, inexpensive, adorable cupcakes, and I was in need of oh, about 120 of them for Addie's party. (And I got the 120 for under $45. You can't beat that with a stick.) Sam's also has beautiful flowers that somehow stay alive (Well, "fresh," I guess, since technically they're dead once they're picked.) for weeks.
So I got a Sam's card.
And today I needed to pick up some of those amazing flowers to give to a friend, as well as dog food and shampoo. I realize that the shampoo was destined to come in a 100 ounce container, but I didn't see any purpose in going to Sam's and Wal Mart if I didn't have to. So 100 ounces it is. And that's okay, except that I have a new-product fetish, and I like to buy my products in small packages, so I can buy new varieties regularly. With a 100 ounce bottle of shampoo, I'm going to have to overcome that addiction, because it's likely I'll still be using it in the year 2042.
And there was my mistake. I strolled into the warehouse with a list of three items, two of which could've been purchased at Wal Mart, and was immediately captivated by this vase:
Don't you just love those roses around the rim? So then I had to purchase more flowers to put in that vase. Because as much as I love the friend I was buying the flowers for, I had no intention of giving that vase away.
So then I saw these:
And everybody knows you might as well buy five large avocadoes as one. I mean, you need at least three to make guacamole, and I believe my relationship with guacamole has been well-documented.
And then I saw strawberries and cherry tomatoes in enormous containers and had to buy them, because when my fruit and vegetables rot in the fridge after I forget to eat them because I'd rather eat chocolate than food that is good for me, why not let three pounds rot, instead of one?
And then, folks, it all started to fall apart. I found the exact perfect light fixture to install in our guest bathroom, and since Chris and I had discussed the possibility of tackling that project sometime this fall, there's no time like early May to take care of the purchase. After all, this is a warehouse, and what if the perfect fixture isn't there in October? I shudder to think of it.
And since we all know I have smoke alarm issues, I had to buy these:
Except what I didn't notice at the time (because I was overcome by the pheromones Sam's puts out that make me buy things I don't want or need) was that these smoke alarms aren't just the alarms, they're entire kits to be installed into the ceiling. I don't need the entire kit, I just need the alarm part.
And since I still needed dog food, I had to walk down the food aisles to find the dog food, and I found these:
Everybody knows you need 36 packages of Ramen Noodles. And you might as well have a dozen cans of Spaghettios to go with, to complete the pseudo-pasta extravaganza.
And it was at this point that I shook myself out of my warehouse-shopping delirium and fled to the cashier, before I bought a big-screen TV or diamond ring. Because the desire was that strong.
And now that I'm home, searching for somewhere to store 36 packages of Ramen Noodles, I realize that like most dangerous substances, shopping at Sam's should be closely monitored. Very closely.
The problem is that I have to return the smoke alarms. Maybe I should take Chris with me next time. Because that 98 ounce can of pork and beans was calling my name.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Party Pictures
I promised some pictures, and folks, I did not disappoint! So if you feel like I'm your great Aunt Mabel showing you tons of pictures of distant relatives you don't know, I'm sorry.
My girl will not keep her shoes on, so we did the next-best thing: We gave her a pedicure! (And I say "we" because I did one foot while nursing her, and then left her to my mom to finish up the other foot, while I went and set up. For toes that tiny, I think we did a pretty good job!) I love this picture.
I love this girl.
Happy girls!
My parents. Look how cute they are! Addison looks a lot like a chipmunk, it's a cute picture of my parents, so let's pretend she doesn't. Let's pretend she's sitting like a lady and smiling demurely.
Speaking of cute, don't you just want to squeeze that baby? That's my brother Dan, my nephew Landon, and his daddy, my brother-in-law, Jeremy. Oh, yeah--and that would be me, mid-pucker, coming in for a kiss.
Getting ready for some cupcake-eating!
Except that this little girl is not so sure she wants a cupcake. She is nothing if not skeptical! I'm afraid this does not bode well for the future. I mean, seriously, if my girl doesn't love chocolate at first sight, what hope is there for us?
But he is sure about the cupcake! Bless his heart, but Grayson has inherited his mama's sweet teeth. Yes, that's right--what I feel for sugar is more than a sweet tooth. It's an entire mouthful of sweet-loving addiction.
And if you zoom in onto these thighs, you can see that Landon, too, has inherited a sweet tooth. Or sweet thigh? Those thighs were sweet enough without the frosting, but now they're irresistible!
After much poking and dissecting, she finally decided that chocolate cupcakes with loads of icing are, after all, better than Gerber oatmeal. Smart decision.
He loves that baby girl so much! She doesn't yet know how blessed she's going to be to have a big brother. The jury's still out on Grayson, though. She really kind of hates him right now. I'm hoping she gets over that. If he'll stop poking her in the eyes, that should help.
This is the post-party Sonic break we all took, once the decorations were down and the guests were mostly gone. I don't know about you, but nothing screams joy more than a Route 44 cherry limeade right after ingesting large amounts of chocolate and vanilla cupcakes.
And once we got home, I put the birthday girl to bed, sat down, and opened every one of her presents myself. And y'all, I had fun.
As you can tell by this picture. If you can't tell, that's a bow made of tulle with rhinestones in the middle. And if I were a baby, I'd definitely wear it. If my head didn't stretch it out, I might wear it around the house while mopping or something. But don't tell my husband I said that. When he found me in the bathtub, 9 months pregnant, wearing a tiara and reading a book, he worried just a bit about my sanity. But that is another story for another day. Which I will, most definitely, tell later.
There you have it! Addison's party in pictures. Somehow there are no pictures here of two key people: Chris, who was busy serving guests food; and my sister-in-law Janae, who blessed my life by keeping Grayson alive and well during the party, which is no small feat.
And now I'm off to take a bath. Sans bow, I promise.
My girl will not keep her shoes on, so we did the next-best thing: We gave her a pedicure! (And I say "we" because I did one foot while nursing her, and then left her to my mom to finish up the other foot, while I went and set up. For toes that tiny, I think we did a pretty good job!) I love this picture.
I love this girl.
Happy girls! 
My parents. Look how cute they are! Addison looks a lot like a chipmunk, it's a cute picture of my parents, so let's pretend she doesn't. Let's pretend she's sitting like a lady and smiling demurely.
Speaking of cute, don't you just want to squeeze that baby? That's my brother Dan, my nephew Landon, and his daddy, my brother-in-law, Jeremy. Oh, yeah--and that would be me, mid-pucker, coming in for a kiss.
Getting ready for some cupcake-eating!
Except that this little girl is not so sure she wants a cupcake. She is nothing if not skeptical! I'm afraid this does not bode well for the future. I mean, seriously, if my girl doesn't love chocolate at first sight, what hope is there for us?
But he is sure about the cupcake! Bless his heart, but Grayson has inherited his mama's sweet teeth. Yes, that's right--what I feel for sugar is more than a sweet tooth. It's an entire mouthful of sweet-loving addiction.
And if you zoom in onto these thighs, you can see that Landon, too, has inherited a sweet tooth. Or sweet thigh? Those thighs were sweet enough without the frosting, but now they're irresistible!
After much poking and dissecting, she finally decided that chocolate cupcakes with loads of icing are, after all, better than Gerber oatmeal. Smart decision.
He loves that baby girl so much! She doesn't yet know how blessed she's going to be to have a big brother. The jury's still out on Grayson, though. She really kind of hates him right now. I'm hoping she gets over that. If he'll stop poking her in the eyes, that should help.
This is the post-party Sonic break we all took, once the decorations were down and the guests were mostly gone. I don't know about you, but nothing screams joy more than a Route 44 cherry limeade right after ingesting large amounts of chocolate and vanilla cupcakes.
And once we got home, I put the birthday girl to bed, sat down, and opened every one of her presents myself. And y'all, I had fun.
As you can tell by this picture. If you can't tell, that's a bow made of tulle with rhinestones in the middle. And if I were a baby, I'd definitely wear it. If my head didn't stretch it out, I might wear it around the house while mopping or something. But don't tell my husband I said that. When he found me in the bathtub, 9 months pregnant, wearing a tiara and reading a book, he worried just a bit about my sanity. But that is another story for another day. Which I will, most definitely, tell later.There you have it! Addison's party in pictures. Somehow there are no pictures here of two key people: Chris, who was busy serving guests food; and my sister-in-law Janae, who blessed my life by keeping Grayson alive and well during the party, which is no small feat.
And now I'm off to take a bath. Sans bow, I promise.
Party Planning Details
Below are pictures from Addison's birthday party. A party planner I am not--nor do I ever want to be!--but I put as many details as I could think of for those of you who like stuff like this. The theme of her party was a garden one, so we used pastel gingham for tablecovers and lots of fresh flowers, as well as butterflies for her decor. If you don't care about the details, feel free to skim :)
This is the portrait we had done of Addison in her personalized birthday dress. I got the frame from Michael's. The mat was for our guests to write birthday messages to Addison. And that's my dear Bridget in the background. She and my sisters worked like slaves for us to set things up! To the left is the kids' table, which had little potted impatiens in Addison's party colors for each child to take home. We also had face painting at the table, although most kids were too busy eating cupcakes to get painted! All except Grayson, who Chris painted a mustache on, until I explained that was not quite what I was going for. A tub of wet wipes on the table helped take care of that little issue. :-)
After finding out what the cake I wanted was going to cost, we decided to get cupcakes instead, so we could still afford college. We got these from Sam's, and not only were they cheap ($11 for 30), they were delicious! This was Bridget's idea--and she and I combined the cupcake stands we already had for the display. Let's just say we saved about $300 going this way, and they required no serving and were easier for the kids to eat. This might be the best bargain I've ever done in my entire life! This was not the original tablecloth--the hot pink runner was the one I'd planned on using, until birds had the audacity to poop on the tablecloth while I was setting up the table. After I moved the table and cut off the yucky part, I folded it in half and laid it over a paper tablecloth. Other than the cake table, all the tablecloths are fabric I bought and trimmed from Hobby Lobby, and the little nylon flowers and butterflies were from Oriental Trading Co. We also got the larger nylon butterflies that were hung on the entrance posts from there, and I think my total bill for all butterflies and flowers was about $12.
We catered barbeque from Red Hot & Blue, and not only did they come in cheaper than the other places we called, their food was fantastic. I could've eaten the entire platter of potato salad by myself.
I spray painted 8" terra cotta pots hot pink and green and wrote "Rejoice!" or "Celebrate!" around the rim and then put hot pink utensils, one type in each pot. The banner (as well as all paper products) was ordered from Birthday in a Box, and it was about a third as much as the other places I checked out. The cupcake plates matched the daisies in the corner. Birthday in a Box was really reasonable, and their return policy is easy, which is good, since I have 13 packages of napkins to return. For some reason I ordered about four times too many! I bought large metal tubs from Home Depot and spray painted one hot pink and one garden green and filled them with water and Capri Suns. We also had sweet tea, which we poured from a new watering can.
This is my favorite part of the party decor. I took quart-sized Mason jars, filled them with foam balls from Michael's, tied either pink or yellow ribbon around, and attached a white butterfly (all from Michael's) in the front. Then I printed out pictures from each month of Addie's life so far, wrote a description, backed them as if I were scrapbooking them, and attached them with super glue to either side. Guests were able to walk up and down the tables and see Addie's life in a nutshell. I bought the flowers from Sam's and put pink in the yellow-ribboned jars, and yellow in the pink-ribboned ones. I think my Aunt Barb would be proud. In fact, I liked them so much I couldn't bear to part with them, and they're now tucked away in one of my top cupboards.
I'll post the real pictures from the party, i.e. Addison eating her cupcake, etc. tomorrow. Today I am trying to get my life back together. My parents fly back home today, so now real life is back, and my husband's going to expect things like food and clean clothes sometime soon. We also still have a hole in our bedroom wall and need to have the concrete poured under our new patio cover. We still have to plant my trees, although I do have to tell you, in full disclosure, that we've decided to plant them on the side of the house and buy trees that are thicker than, say, my little finger, to put in the backyard. But don't get me wrong--I still believe in my trees. I just need something in the meantime to actually cast a shadow on the lawn. :)
So that's what's going on today in the In the Midst of It house. I hope each of you had a happy weekend, and that you are surrounded by hope, joy, faith, and love today. Happy May, friends!
This is the portrait we had done of Addison in her personalized birthday dress. I got the frame from Michael's. The mat was for our guests to write birthday messages to Addison. And that's my dear Bridget in the background. She and my sisters worked like slaves for us to set things up! To the left is the kids' table, which had little potted impatiens in Addison's party colors for each child to take home. We also had face painting at the table, although most kids were too busy eating cupcakes to get painted! All except Grayson, who Chris painted a mustache on, until I explained that was not quite what I was going for. A tub of wet wipes on the table helped take care of that little issue. :-)
After finding out what the cake I wanted was going to cost, we decided to get cupcakes instead, so we could still afford college. We got these from Sam's, and not only were they cheap ($11 for 30), they were delicious! This was Bridget's idea--and she and I combined the cupcake stands we already had for the display. Let's just say we saved about $300 going this way, and they required no serving and were easier for the kids to eat. This might be the best bargain I've ever done in my entire life! This was not the original tablecloth--the hot pink runner was the one I'd planned on using, until birds had the audacity to poop on the tablecloth while I was setting up the table. After I moved the table and cut off the yucky part, I folded it in half and laid it over a paper tablecloth. Other than the cake table, all the tablecloths are fabric I bought and trimmed from Hobby Lobby, and the little nylon flowers and butterflies were from Oriental Trading Co. We also got the larger nylon butterflies that were hung on the entrance posts from there, and I think my total bill for all butterflies and flowers was about $12.
We catered barbeque from Red Hot & Blue, and not only did they come in cheaper than the other places we called, their food was fantastic. I could've eaten the entire platter of potato salad by myself. I spray painted 8" terra cotta pots hot pink and green and wrote "Rejoice!" or "Celebrate!" around the rim and then put hot pink utensils, one type in each pot. The banner (as well as all paper products) was ordered from Birthday in a Box, and it was about a third as much as the other places I checked out. The cupcake plates matched the daisies in the corner. Birthday in a Box was really reasonable, and their return policy is easy, which is good, since I have 13 packages of napkins to return. For some reason I ordered about four times too many! I bought large metal tubs from Home Depot and spray painted one hot pink and one garden green and filled them with water and Capri Suns. We also had sweet tea, which we poured from a new watering can.
This is my favorite part of the party decor. I took quart-sized Mason jars, filled them with foam balls from Michael's, tied either pink or yellow ribbon around, and attached a white butterfly (all from Michael's) in the front. Then I printed out pictures from each month of Addie's life so far, wrote a description, backed them as if I were scrapbooking them, and attached them with super glue to either side. Guests were able to walk up and down the tables and see Addie's life in a nutshell. I bought the flowers from Sam's and put pink in the yellow-ribboned jars, and yellow in the pink-ribboned ones. I think my Aunt Barb would be proud. In fact, I liked them so much I couldn't bear to part with them, and they're now tucked away in one of my top cupboards. I'll post the real pictures from the party, i.e. Addison eating her cupcake, etc. tomorrow. Today I am trying to get my life back together. My parents fly back home today, so now real life is back, and my husband's going to expect things like food and clean clothes sometime soon. We also still have a hole in our bedroom wall and need to have the concrete poured under our new patio cover. We still have to plant my trees, although I do have to tell you, in full disclosure, that we've decided to plant them on the side of the house and buy trees that are thicker than, say, my little finger, to put in the backyard. But don't get me wrong--I still believe in my trees. I just need something in the meantime to actually cast a shadow on the lawn. :)
So that's what's going on today in the In the Midst of It house. I hope each of you had a happy weekend, and that you are surrounded by hope, joy, faith, and love today. Happy May, friends!
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