WAIT November 25, 2009

I’m having an idea.  I’ve blogged for a little over a year now and I got to thinking that there are probably a lot of blogs that you have either forgotten about or maybe, never even read.  I compiled a list of about 9 older blogs that I’m going to post short links to so that you can go right to them. I’m going to post these older blogs in a series of three blogs so you will be on your seat waiting for the next set of lists in the trilogy.  It will be as crazy as the Twilight saga. 

You can copy and paste these short links that I’m about to post and give them to others if you wish.  I’ve had people tell me that they wish “so and so” could read a certain blog.  With short links it’s really easy.  I’m talking like I know a lot of computer or blog jargon but I’m really an idiot.  I’m not sure if you’ll be able to click on the links from my page but if you’re having trouble I know you can copy and paste them into your browser and it will take you there like a magical unicorn.

I figured if I don’t have anything new to say, you can at least read what I use to say.  Drum roll homies:

Ode to Kevin Arnold and Winnie Cooper http://wp.me/pjhsl-W

Small Wooden Houses http://wp.me/pjhsl-A

Jack Handy Quotes http://wp.me/pjhsl-9H

November 23, 2009

As my life in the blogging world would have it, just as my blog hits have grown to over a 1,000 unique visitors a month, alas I’ve been a blogging failure for the past two weeks.  To all of you new people around, I promise I’m much more fantastic than I’ve been proving myself to be.  The past 7 and the next 7 days aren’t going to improve.  I’m sorry dearest loved ones.  If you can stick with me one more week than I’ll be blowing your minds with blogs about being a skinny pregnant woman and fascinating animals in no time! 

Last week I was fired from the computer while Lance wrote two sermons for a conference.  Not that I could’ve written because I was up to my ears in Diego.  This week I have work, Thanksgiving, a cake, and sadly, an out of town funeral.   Unfortunately, the second funeral in two weeks. 

I don’t consider this week a burden but I am tired just putting those words together.  No wait….that’s because I can’t sleep on my back anymore because of pregnancy.  Last night I wrestled with a pillow between my legs and flopped from side to side all to finally start falling asleep and then realize….DANG, I’m on my back!  Thus the reason I could actually fall asleep. 

Tonight I have a migraine and a cake that’s due a day earlier.  A cake I should probably do some things for tonight but I’m pretty sure I’m going to go to sleep on the couch.  So, while all of you eat turkey with your friends and family on Thanksgiving, looks like me, elmo, cookie monster, and big bird will be chilling together in a Seasame Street cake. 

So loved ones, I’m thankful you came, hope you keep coming, and I’ve got nothing to offer to you til next week.  I wish I could give you something to do during work for the next 48 hours but you will have to find your solace in facebook and you tube.  Just don’t forget your first love.  Until Monday….

Love, Busy Crazy Lady

PS-

Thanks for enduring my whiney, temper tantrum blog.  I’m trying to build empathy for my future baby.  It’s all for good reason.

Go Diego November 23, 2009

This, plus Lance, is why i was absent from the blog world last week. Here’s the latest….

Handmade from fondant. Leaves behind monkey border the cake and I did those by hand too.

Cake top. Handmade rocks, leaves, hippo,flowers, and boa. Diego and jaguar are store bought. There's not enough sanity to last me through hand making something like Diego.

Discrimination of Skinny Human Growers November 18, 2009

When you are really skinny, people discredit a lot of things about you. For example, your ability to pick up large boxes. You can now add to that list, the ability to have a pregnant belly. Today I embarked on a journey I had only heard about. I, Rebecca, have had my fetal rumpus stroked by a stranger. She was scanning my Mr. Potato head with one hand and performing a large circular rubbing motion with the other hand.  All across the conveyor belt.  A lot of people find a stranger touching their body weird. I think it’s weird that they feel comfortable doing it but I don’t mind them doing so on my end.  It’s whatever dude. I worked a long time for this humpety hump. Please admire.

Just hours before that, I had 2 strangers notice my pregnant belly all on their own. An hour after seeing them, a person saw me and said “I wasn’t even showing”. Really? How can I have such opposite things happen to me, in regards to my stomach, in only a few hours? I’ve noticed that because I’m small, people discount the bump that Eden is so graciously providing me with. They think and say…..”I guess that’s a bump for you”….. What does that mean? You can only tell me that I have a belly based on the size comparable to someone bigger than me? My belly is big because it is in fact on a pre-pregnant 103 pound girl. It’s real.  It’s obvious.  Embrace it. 

In the past month or so my father-in-law has said that I’m “sticking it out”. Here’s a better trick…trying to suck it in.  He’s right though. I can push out my stomach and my rib cage and my hips all in one simple motion to impress you. I’m also sticking out my boobs. Pushing those way, way out. In fact, pregnancy gives me no symptoms or physical evidence whatsoever. I’m almost halfway through my pregnancy.  Why should I be entitled to proof?  Don’t tell him I said that because he carries lots of weaponry on him at all times.  This is not a joke.  Homie packs heat.  I can’t wait til Eden sees his guns.  So sweet.  Warms my heart just thinking of it.

You know what I did today?  I pulled into Toys R Us and parked….in the expectant mothers spot.  Almost daring someone to question the substantialness of my hump.  I”m sure the spot is better deserved by the 8 month pregnant lady struggling to get out of her car but I like to live on the edge.   My lump has to count for something.  Not because someone 130 pounds can’t have a lump bigger than mine but because my lump is there too dag nab it!  For those of you not from the south, dag nab it is a phrase much like dang reserved for southerners.  I don’t really know where it came from so if it’s a version of something crass or profane, I apologize.  I learned that jap slap was a racial slur after year of thinking it was a just a funny non-sense phrase.  Just trying to cover my bets here.   Dag nab it could really mean anything.

I’m really getting off the point here.   Basically, before I got pregnant, I knew people would discount my growth because I’m the “silly little tiny girl trying to get beefy”.  It’s much like when people say I can’t have cellulite because I’m so tiny.  As stated in my blog “Common Misconceptions of Skinny People”, when people say that I want to pull my pants down and show them.  It’s not because I want to be right about having cellulite, it’s just that you are so wrong about skinny people and my pride is driving me to show you your error. 

I now wish to prove you wrong in a much more acceptable way than the dropping of britches.  If this below image is good enough for Potato Head lady, it should be good enough for you dear brothers and sisters.

showing tiny bump without pulling shirt

pulling shirt back to show my boo-yeah! 4 1/2 months suckas!

 To all of you that said, “Oh that’s nothing”, please refer to entry title.

Pee Pee Policies November 11, 2009

I hate knocking on bathroom doors in public places to see if it’s occupied.  It’s silly but I get nervous just waiting to see if someone answers back.  I feel like I embarrassed them or something.  What are you supposed to say when someone knocks?  I never know what to say and I get real uncomfortable and just say, “Someone is in here”.  Sometimes I say, “Taken” but that’s abrupt and weird.  There have been times where I’ve said, “Uh huh?” As if I’m leaving the ball in their court to say something back to me.  Then there’s an awkward moment when you exit and it’s just you and the stranger you talked to while you were doing your business.  Yeah, you are just two strangers both looking to handle your business.  I try avoid this shared moment and I usually abandon the scene if I knocked on an occupied bathroom.  I don’t want them to say, “Oh, there’s the person who giggled the handle over and over until they finally heard me say my awkward phrase to tell them there is no room in here for the both of us.”  Another way I try to avoid this situation all together is to simply make noise while I’m in the bathroom.  Maybe a few simple coughs or a loud faucet will detour someone from needing to knock.

Then there’s the problem of the room stinking.  What if it stunk before you went in?  You just want to tell them so bad that you had nothing to do with it.  It’s instant pride with a person you will never see again.  If there’s pee on the seat, in that situation, I want to tell them it wasn’t me too but as a hoverer, I can never be sure.  I check, but again, you can never be too trusted if you refuse to sit.

Sometimes hovering is dangerous and you pee the back of your pants or occasionally, splatter the sides.  Nothing a little splash of water or “casual wiping of your wet hands” on your pants can’t fix.  I think these methods really throw someone off.  Pee on their pants or water droplets?  If it’s around the ankles, you can be silently sure of the answer.

In the realm of bathrooms, I find Target’s bathrooms to have the best aroma while Hobby Lobby’s bathrooms always reek of number 2 and rank somewhere around porter potties and gas stations.  Still, if you knock on either of their stalls, I won’t know how to answer you. 

I think I’ll just do what this 60 year-old woman did at McDonalds in Athens, GA.  I opened the stall door because it wasn’t even shut all the way.  The door swung open and she had no startle response and just stared at me blankly like we were an old comfortable married couple.  There she was just sitting there spread eagle just looking at me. She never said a word.   In hindsight, I think she may have been disabled but either way she avoided having to tell me it was occupied and the joke was on me.  Buuuuutttttt then I wrote about her on the internet so, I’m like rubber she’s like glue…. I’m always sort of a champion.

If nothing else, for those of us afraid to answer the call outside of the bathroom, we’ll always have Athens.  If they barge in, the eagle always speaks for itself.  Remember that kids.

Regression November 10, 2009

The first battle Lance and I ever had over house issues concerned the closing of the shower curtain.  It took six months but eventually, he was trained into curtain submission and etiquette.  Other household battles have been constant song outbursts (see Watch Out for Singing Rabbits) and other classics like this clicking noise he makes with his mouth.  It’s some sort of beat boxing sound but he just walks around and makes this individual sound.  I cannot lie though.  I know why he’s doing this.  He is hearing a song in his head and making this sound out loud on beat to his head song.  At least he’s not singing out loud.  You can’t win them all.

These days I enjoy things like Sock Parade.  He leaves socks, sometimes in pairs, sometimes mysteriously seperated, all over the house.  I call it Sock Parade like it’s a festival of socks lining the house.

Yesterday while enjoying a sock party, I heard a sound.  A familiar sound.  A clicking sound.  A sound that has been banished from this house for a long time.  It’s happening.  It’s returning.  The beat box sound.  It’s back.  It’s returned almost as mysteriously as it left. Just like Santa at Christmas time. It’s worse though this time.  He’s beat boxing songs.  He’s singing them.  Constantly.  And would you believe, the shower curtain was wide open exposing the guts of my tub two days this week.

What is going on?  Lance is slipping back into bachelor mode.  Dang I say, DANG!

Skittles had diarhea on the floor.  Lance is giving me concert after concert.  Bonkers barfed on his weed couch.  My home life is slipping away.

Animals are my homies November 9, 2009

As many of you may know, I’m quite the scholar on animals. Not common animals, more exotic and fantastic earth beasts. I don’t get people not being as equally as fascinated by the animal kingdom. Do you realize that with clown fish,(Nemo fish) , that the female is always the biggest? Why is that amazing? Because if you put two clown fish together, the larger fish will change it’s anatomy to female if it was a male originally. That should blow your mind. What is wrong with you? What does it take to make someone want to take notes on Animal Planet, if not that? Do you even know what an Ocelet is? Do you even know what a Capybara is? It’s like a huge hamster that swims in the rivers with other big water hamsters. I know what you are picturing though. Ya know, it’s literally an oversized hamster, maybe the size of a cat. Get a load of this losers!

IN YOUR FACE! RESPECT!

Listen to these facts:

It’s a strange fact that all polar bears are left-handed and their livers are extremely poisonous as they contain too much of Vitamin C.

Sharks seemingly are the only animals that never fall sick and are immune to every known disease including cancer.

A lion can mate up to 50 times in a day.

Mockingbirds can imitate sounds of other birds.

The rat tops the list of animals that can live without water for a long time; the camel being second to it.

The eyes of the donkey are placed in such a way that it can see all four feet at the same time.

There are around 2,600 known species of frogs, which live on every continent, except Antarctica.

The venom of a poison arrow frog can kill approximately 2,200 people.

Crocodiles can swallow large stones that stay permanently in their bellies and are used as ballast in diving.

A female ferret will literally die, if she can’t find a mate after going into heat.

An electric eel can produce a shock of up to 650 volts.

A porcupine has 30,000 quills on an average. It’s average heartbeat is around 190 beats per minute, which reduces to 20 during hibernation.

A woodpecker can peck up to 20 times in a second.

Bats unmistakably turn left when exiting a cave. A brown bat can catch around 1,200 mosquito-sized insects in just an hour.

The call of a blue whale reaches up to 188 decibels, which can be heard from hundred of miles underwater, thus entitling it to be the loudest animal on earth. In loudness, the whale is followed by the howler monkey.

Those facts are from buzzle.com.  Why?   Why does an animal genius like me copy facts?  Because everyone who knows me has heard my favorite facts.  You know that a mouse can spontaneously abort her babies if she finds a more dominant male that tickles her fancy.  That wolverines are among the srongest and most viscious animals in the world for their size and that they can mate and the female can hold the sperm and impregnant herself at a time of her choosing within apprx. a 5-6 month span.  Simple, common facts like that. 

Is your mind not blown?  Are you not interested?  What’s it’s gonna take for you?  Do you need to know that …

The sperm of a MOUSE is longer than the sperm of an elephant.

Certain Chinese and American ALLIGATORS can survive the winter by freezing their heads in ice, leaving their nose out to breath for months on end.

Most ELEPHANTS weigh less than the tongue of a blue whale.

CAMEL milk does not curdle, because it has adapted to the desert heat. 

Facts collected from www.wildsidepetsinc.com and www.lakeeffectpets.com)

If this doesn’t make you want to run out and buy Planet Earth then I just can’t help you.  I hope you get eaten by a markamel tonight.  You won’t even know what’s happening because you never learned.  That’s what you get. 

That was a fangtooth.

Markamels aren’t even real.  I’m embarrassed by you.

Oink November 5, 2009

I almost dread writing this blog because I hate controversy and this is about to be just that. At least to a group on one side of the fence.   Specifically, to doctors and mothers. But I guess, in a way, “I’m one of those people” who are skeptical of the getting the swine flu vaccine.   One of “those people” people who is leery of getting the one billion vaccines for my newborn within the normal time frame that shots are typically administered.  EVERY time I turn on the TV, it’s about the pandemic of the swine flu, the shortages of vaccines, the questions about the vaccines, and on and on.  Of course, I’m in the high risk category of a pregnant woman. But I’m telling you that it’s being pregnant that makes me not want to do it.  I just don’t feel comfortable being a test group for a new vaccine.  What if ten years from now it did something to the babies in their mom wombs that effects them long-term and they just couldn’t have known it because it had never been given to pregnant women before with developing babies in their wombs?  The arguments are:

1- It’s made the same way that they make the flu shot.

2-It’s approved by the CDC/FDA.

3. Etc.

Here’s why that doesn’t comfort me.  The doctors that tell you to take it got their info from trusting the CDC that it’s safe.  The CDC/FDA got their info based on not having time to test it or prove that it’s safe over time.  It isn’t exactly the same as a regular flu shot, which has been proven safe over long periods of time.

I just think that we trust so much that things like this are fool-proof.  Same with prescription drugs.  How many times have you seen drugs recalled or taken off the market because they caused death, stroke, heart attack?  Those drugs were all approved by the same people and prescribed by doctors everywhere. 

5 years ago I walked into my gynecologist’s office and told her that I wanted birth control.  I told her that the pill made me sick and she offered me the new solution in this birth control patch that you stick on your body.  It’s convienentt and won’t make you sick like pills because it doesn’t sit on your stomach.  Too good to be true.  Absolutely, I’ll take it!  One year later over a steady decline, I ended up throwing up every time I put the patch on.  I was dizzy.  Plagued by migraines.  Sex became painful.  I started getting terrible cramps.  I felt miserable 1oo percent of the time.  I quit the patch because I realized the intensity of my sickness spiked within in twenty-four hours of putting it on.  Within one month of me getting to the climax of my sickness,  the news hit that the patch I had been taking was giving women 60 percent more estrogen then they manufacturers realized.  Young healthy girls had died, had strokes, heart attacks, etc. from complications and they would start working towards changing the product or removing it from the market.  It changed my life.  I still have migraines to this day.  Not to mention what I developed during that time, the first known case in my family of endometriosis.  Endometriosis is an estrogen disease and cause of my 2 years of infertility.  Since that time I’ve had 2 separate doctors, one fertility and one obgyn tell I never should been on it in the first place by my build alone because the hormones saturated my body with nowhere to go.  But I trusted my doctor and I trusted the people who gave her the information on the drug that they knew the interactions of that product. 

Did that drug effect everyone the same way?  Of course not.  Do I believe you shouldn’t trust your doctor or not take medication?  Absolutely not.  However, I do think we are mindless about things at times and will take any shot or any drug without a thought because we trust a system that, for the most part, is a good system.  What scares me though is, it does happen.  There are certain people who will be effected differently from a one size fits all patch or shot.  The long-standing drugs and shots, I feel fine with.  New vaccines never given to pregnant women until now?  Makes me nervous.  Swine flu makes me nervous too but so does being a geniea pig. 

Also, there’s the issue of the shots containing thimerosal.

“Thimerosal, which is a mercury-based preservative added to multi-dose vials of inactivated annual influenza vaccines and other vaccines, has been associated with brain and immune system dysfunction,  including autism.

Thimerosal, which is a mercury-based preservative added to multi-dose vials of inactivated annual influenza vaccines and other vaccines, has been associated withbrain and immune system dysfunction, including autism. Thimerosal WILL be added as a preservative in multi-dose vials of most inactivated (injected) H1N1 swine flu vaccines, although there reportedly will be a limited supply of single dose vials of inactivated swine flu vaccine that do not contain thimerosal.

The live virus nasal spray H1N1 vaccine being created by MedImmune will not contain the preservative thimerosal (and live virus swine flu vaccine will not contain an unlicensed adjuvant that may be added to inactivated H1N1 vaccines).”

-National Vaccine Information Center

For those of you rolling your eyes right now, even the famous book I’m reading currently, “What to Expect When You Are Expecting”, recommends getting a flu shot but ASLO requesting the thimerosal free or “reduced vaccine” as it is also known.

Do I think vaccines with thimerosal are the sole cause of autism and other associated issues? Nope.  Do I think that some little bodies aren’t as equipped to deal with this ingredient causing complications or igniting underlying predispositions, some of which are autism?  Yes.  People usually say, “Well, I vaccinated all my kids and they are fine.”  Good and I’m sure that’s true.  Vaccines are a great thing in a lot of ways and I do plan to vaccinate my kids with doses that are more spaced out over time.  This is just my point though, not all vaccines will do the same things to different children.  And to those who say, “We got vaccinations and we all turned out okay!”  Many Thimerasol containing multi-dose vaccines were added to the immunization schedule for infants much later than when our parents and even people in my age group were being vaccinated.   If you are mid-twenties or older, you didn’t get the same regiment of shots, many of which did not have the same dosages of Thimerasol, if contained at all.  Don’t buy it?  You are entitled to that but it should still make us pause.  Thimerasol is banned in Europe and restricted in 7 U.S. states.  We aren’t even supposed to shatter energy friendly lightbulbs or dispose of them normally because they contain mercury.  Why would inject it into 160 pound bodies or 25 pound bodies agents containing mercury in any degree?  I’m not comfortable with it.

For every woman or baby that died with the swine flu, there is another woman and baby that’s fine.  In my opinion, it’s a risk if you take the shot, risk if you don’t.  Or at least it seems. 

Disagree with me if you please, that’s fine.  I’m not standing in judgement of mother’s that deem this shot as an act of protection and wisdom as an act of ignorance or neglect in my eyes.  The swine flu or any vaccine for that matter.  I just ask that you do the same for me if this blog really ruffled your feathers.  When its all said and done, we have to trust someone’s facts.  I’m just hesitant to trust the facts of an industry that is human and gets it right a lot of the times and drops the ball at others.  For me, I feel like I can’t trust facts that haven’t been tested.  I waited a long, long time to have this little person growing inside of me.  As it’s brain developes, limbs grow, organs get more sophisticated, ultimately, the reason they want me to take the shot, is the same one that keeps me not wanting to.

Baby Eden Shows You What She’s Workin’ With November 3, 2009

You have to have the eye of the tiger to catch the finger sucking in this video.  Actually, I should say thumb sucking right?  Thumbs aren’t fingers.  Anyways, I point it out but its super fast and hard to see but give it a whirl.

WARNING:  THE FIRST IMAGE WILL BE A 4-D PICTURE THAT LOOKS LIKE A LIKE DEMON CHILD WITH A NUB IN IT’S MOUTH WITH IT’S BRAINS SHOWING.  4-d images look really weird at this stage.  Don’t worry because if you can make it through the first few seconds, it’ll switch to the safe and more attractive black and white images.  Give it a looksy.  It will be like a Where’s Waldo fetus addition.

http://www.facebook.com/v/163240583334

I want to shout out to Precious Views ultrasound studios.  It was worth the special trip!

4-d, 15 1/2 weeks. Her face is almost facing you and her chin is tucked down. Her little umbilical cord is going across the picture.

3-d black and white 15 1/2 weeks

It's a girl! Leg shooting straight up butt shot!

What Choo Got In Them Jeans November 2, 2009

The long awaited day has come to reveal my baby’s genitalia.  I went today to my “I have no patience, I just can’t wait” optional, elective early ultrasound.  As soon as the lady touched the device to my stomach she pulled it off and said, “I’m positive I know what it is.”  It’s a girl!  (Please hold your appaulse until the end.)  That’s the same thing the ultrasound tech old us a week earlier at my emergency ultrasound when they looked for the heartbeat.  And with no further adue, I announced to you my baby name that I’ve had since 2006, Eden Elizabeth!  No need to say it with my last name.  The last name goes with nothing so you might as well throw it out and try to save two of three names your kid will have. 

That’s right folks I have been walking around with two vaginas and had no idea! 

I got a DVD of the ultrasound in on the Dvd my baby does the most awesomest of all things…she sucked her thumb for us! Awwwwww!  I could see the little fist and mouth moving while she practiced how to drain my chesticles of it’s dairy products.  Just five minutes before I asked the technician if she ever gets to see the babies suck their thumbs because it’s something I’ve always wanted to see.  Then no more than five minutes later my psyhic genius baby sucked her thumb in the most adorable of ultrasound moments.  She also did other cute things like played with her umblical cord and kept putting  her hands on her head like “oh brother” but who’s counting these things….

We no longer have a baby to refer to as “it”.  Our little Eden is on her way!  I’m going to post her ultrasound video and the four-d pictures of her where she looks like Skeletor…just like her momma.

Husband Techniques August 23, 2008

There is this game I like to play with Lance. I call it ‘Pretend I’m not here’.  This game serves a variety of purposes.  I feel like it helps him develop man skills or, independence skills.  Here are some everyday uses of “Pretend I’m Not Here”:  Where is the broom? Pretend I’m not here.  Where did I leave my headphones? Pretend I’m not here.  The toilet is overflowing.  Again, pretend I’m not here.  This game works because it teaches him to handle these everyday queries without asking me.  Some of you may be thinking, “You should help him find his headphones or find the broom.”  Sure, but the problem is that I’ve found that men are not problem solvers as they are stereo-typically said to be.  More often they will not do anything on their own unless absolutely necessary…such as bathing.  It is so much easier to ask a million questions a day rather than to actually pay attention to what is going on. Because hey, I’ll just ask Rebecca and she will give me the answer. However, if I in fact wasn’t actually there to ask he would figure something out.  So its not that he can’t figure it out but rather that he wants me to.  Are you starting to see the benefits of a technique such as “Pretend I’m Not Here”?

 

Let’s look at a real-life application of this game.  Tonight I am sick a home.  Satan has come to dwell within my tonsils for the past 6 days.  This means that Lance has had to do many things around the house which has been somewhat confusing to him.  Tonight he cooked me dinner:  sausage bean soup.  Basically this recipe consists of dumping all ingredients into a pot.  I thought, “This will be easiest for him so I won’t have answers any questions.  I can just lay here on the couch and relax.”  Yeah right.  Within the first traumatic 30 seconds of trying to gather the ingredients I see that I am going to have to write this down.  Despite the ingredients being listed in the recipe name.  As I am writing down the directions he is still continuing to ask me the very things he knows I am writing down. 

Finally, I make it back to the couch. 

“Hey, where are the beans?”  Bear in mind that Lance is the one who neurotically organizes the cabinets into categories: seasonings, things for baking, etc.  Now, let’s review this question again with this new knowledge.

He said, “Hey, where are the beans?” 

Dramatic pause.

This is the appropriate time to say, “Pretend I’m not here.”

As you get started, something you should know is that the recipient of this technique will not like learning the process of independence through this game.  It may get to a boiling point as we will see in this example.

 

Let’s continue….

 

In the case of sausage bean soup, the ingredients and recipe are as follows: 

 

Cook and drain sausage

One can of white beans

One box of chicken broth

¾ c. of rice

Pepper soup at end

 

This is where we found our problem.  About ten questions into the game our client begins to lose his cool.  This experience has become quite challenging and stressful to him.  He begins to be frustrated and opens and shuts cabinets in a tissy and this is what he says:

 

“WHERE IS THE PEPPER SOUP?  I CAN’T FIND IT JUST TELL ME WHERE THE PEPPER SOUP IS!!!”

 

I now reply, “Pepper soup? Are you serious?” 

 

(client using mocking voice) “Yes, I’m serious!  It says pepper soup at end! It’s not my fault that you don’t even know what

you write down!”

 

With secret joy of his impending realization I say, “Just read it over to yourself and get back to me.”

 

He reads over the extensive recipe and then begins to laugh.  I begin to laugh because I am now crazy. 

 

End game.

 

He has now learned what to do in a situation when confused and frustrated.  The steps he has learned are:

Pretend no one is here.

Stop. 

Think. 

Rethink. 

Think some more. 

Now with some common sense.

And celebrate solution.

 

Using these 7 simple steps 25 times a day, everyday will give you the freedom to live your life question free from your personal man-child.  Just look at me! We are down to situations such as sausage bean in just 4 years!!!!!!

 

I’m a believer aren’t you?

 

“Pretend I’m Not Here”….offering everyday solutions, to everyday problems.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How a Heart Breaks March 4, 2009

I was laying on top of my mom’s quilted guest bed.  Phone pressed to my ear and a roundtrip ticket to Chicago staring me down from the nightstand.  It was his voice on the other end of the line.  I heard that voice everyday for a little over 3 years.  There was always something up until that point that he could give me that would be reason enough for me to keep hoping.  Maybe it was in the way he was looking at me.  Maybe in his tone of voice.  Or some time or conversation we had together.  This time there was nothing there in his words and tone.  I couldn’t in my best days of denial convince myself that I had a reason that I should stay his.  I faught for him to be mine everyday that I had him.  I had moments of him being mine and that was enough for me to keep going.  But after all those years, I just couldn’t keep trying to convince someone that I was worthwhile enough that they should love me like I did them.  I knew if I got on that flight that next morning, I would be avoiding the envitable.  I knew that I might not be able to walk away from it all and every month that I would spend with him from that moment on would be a  bittersweet chance I took at being hurt again. I knew I would be left in the end.  Or maybe worse, with someone who could just take me or leave me.  

I would describe that relationship as a constant state of holding my emotional breath.  I had to exhale.  My life craved it.  Probably the last blow he took at me was letting me do so without even a hesitation. 

We all leave realationships with questions.  Most of mine began with “Why” or “Did”. I left though with the closure of knowing that there is nothing else I could’ve tried.  I never had to question if I had tried hard enough.  Been forgiving enough. There was literally not a question left in my mind.  That’s the peace I could give myself.  The questions were now left for him to have later.  The only form of closure I could’ve had, outside of peace with what I had done, is hoping that someday he would sit alone with himself and ask.  I wanted him to someday feel the weight of what I paid at his expense and not so that he’d be burdened, but so that it all wouldn’t have been in vain.  If I could be appreciated.  If choices could be regretted.  Then there could’ve been an ending other than a heart barely there and an empty to seat on a round-trip flight to Midway. 

I took the last crack to my heart 1,095 days after it started. 
I breathed. 
I hoped. 
I called my dad. 

Told him I was sorry but that I couldn’t take the flight he paid for.  He exhaled too.  I can’t imagine watching a child I loved go through putting their hope in someone who only wanted it there half the time. 

I’m not angry at the maker of my cracks.  He cheated on me the first 3 months of our relationship.  I chose to stay for 3 years. That’s kind of like blaming a prisoner of war for not fleeing camp when his captors broke his legs but still….I should’ve known.  I guess I did.  I just didn’t want to leave.  I didn’t know what would hurt worse anyways, leaving or staying. 

As odd as it may sound to you, I still believe he loved me.  I think he loved me with everything he had at the time.  And at the time he was a confused, teenage boy who was being loved by a girl like he was someone he wasn’t. 

I was 15 years old when it started and 19 when I left but I perservered and forgave like I was 35. 

At my job I see these girls all the time in the same kind of relationships.  I had a full-circle moment with one of them recently and it was so surreal.  I swear it was like having Rebecca, age 15 and in love sitting next to 26 year old Rebecca wishing she could just give the clarity that I have now.  These sweet, vunerable girls selling their hearts for pennies, betting it on all the stability of what their junior year can give.  Still, I know exactly where they are.  I pray that I don’t have to watch a child of my own go through a relationship like that at that age.  Love is hard enough when you’re an adult. 

That was 7 years ago.  It’s one of those experiences that ages you.  Makes you feel like so much time has passed. Makes you miss a little of being young and full of passion: being able to sing a love song with every part of your gut, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying.  It’s also one of those things that makes you glad you are where you are now.  Chasing someone’s love is dangerous.   I’m so glad now at 26 that there is no doubt in my mind that, in the purest of ways, it’s finally chasing me. And gladly, I let it catch me.

33 Things I Bet You Didn’t Know About Me But Wonder Every Night January 20, 2009

1-I fear the depths of the ocean and stomach viruses. Every year I pray several times that I won’t get the stomach virus. I threw-up yesterday.

2-I ate king sized Butterfingers in the 4th grade until I got sick and I haven’t eaten one since.

3-I had a birth mark under my eye for the first 8 years of my life and then it disappeared.

4-I have never smoked, taken a drink, or done any sort of drugs.  I did however use to snort pixie sticks in middle school while in groups for entertainment.

5-My big toes flip upwards.

6-I can talk with my mouth closed.  I can also sing and scream this way.

7-I have had well over 22 pets in my entire life. I bet you didn’t know their names were snowflake, andy, oreo, dusty, vickie, smudge, simon, willy, rascal, annie, tobi, alley, skittles, tate, whoppie, bonkers, fluffy, 5-7 names of fish & hamsters I can’t remember, one nameless mail-order tadpole, and one nameless rat that my brother’s python wouldn’t eat. These names represent rabbits, dogs, cats, one mouse, one chamelion, and one turtle.

8-I hate it when people close doors behind them and leave me closed in a room.

9-I get migraines and these are the triggers that I know of: yeast, sour cream, chemical smells, allergens, too much sleep, lunchmeat, root beer, hormones…..I live an exciting life. One day I’m just going to have to be pushed around in a big clear bubble.

10- I have kissed 8 guys in my life but I had to count a musical for one of them. I had a crush on them though so in my heart, it was for real.

11- I’m a walking contradicition. Love writing, hate to read anything! I’m also the cake decorator who hates to bake.

12-I feel extremely closterphobic if my feet are trapped under a blanket or being sat on.

13-I did first grade twice and graduated high school and college early.

14-I didn’t go to either of my graduations.

15-My eardrum split open from an infection when I was a child.

16- I’m in the will to get 6 children if anything ever happens to two couples. Last week someone told us we were their back-ups to their first choices. So…if everyone decides to kick the bucket, I’m going on Extreme Home Makeover to get a crazy big house.

17-When I was in elementary school, I “dated” a boy with half a finger. He was a total dreamboat.

18-When I was kid I ate 8 apples in one day…including the cores.

19-I have a belly ring. In high school it was because I liked it…now it just covers what I call an in betweeny belly button. Not all the way in yet not out.

20-I hate returning phone calls. REALLY hate it and I can’t tell you why.

21-I am a recycling fanatic.

22-I don’t own any jewelry other than my wedding rings, except for two necklaces that people gave to me. And, my belly ring of course.

23-I wore my hair in a ponytail every single day in 6th grade. In seveneth grade I wore it up in a clip, every single day. Literally every day. No one saw my hair down until mid-year 8th grade. Don’t ask me why. At first I think it was because I liked it, then convience, then it became such a big deal that I always wore it up that I was afraid of how everyone would react when I wore it down. I made it out okay.

24-I first learned that I could dance and had rhythm while doing the macarena at a school dance in 8th grade. It was the part where you put your hands on your hips and sway them side-to-side as you dip down. I remember thinking, “Hey, hey, hey I can really get down!”

25-On a related note, me and fellow dance team buddies were national champs in high school.

26-I love rap music and r & b. I should’ve been a black girl.

27-I love drinking things. When I go to the grocery I could come back with half a cart of beverages. Lucky for me, I never drank alcohol because it could’ve been ugly.

28- I have a crazy detailed memory.

29-I blank out when I have to do math in front of people or out-loud no matter how simple. (Thanks to the math teachers who tramatize you in front of the class and make you do math drills.) And I can’t type when someone is watching me.

30-Five things I know more about than your average Joe on the street: types of flowers, sign language, diamonds, cake decorating, and counseling. What are some of yours? I think that’s a neat question.

31-I love Jack Handy quote books.

32- I use to be way more social than I am now.

33-I feel like I’m going to be on Oprah someday. I don’t know what for but….I’m just pretty sure.

Confessions of a Housewife February 12, 2009

Confession 1: My husband neurotically checks the dates on the food in our house. If bread is two days old, sound the alarm. I’m not sure what he thinks happens to it after it “expires” but he acts like it becomes lethal. So sometimes, because I’m the one who cooks, I feed Lance things that are passed their expiration dates. Things that he would refuse to eat if he knew. And by sometimes I mean constantly.

Confession 2: Lance doesn’t like me to use his razor. He says it grosses him out for some reason. This has always confused me because he wouldn’t be grossed out to put his face on my hairy leg if we were laying on the couch….why then is it gross for me to use his razor to save my legs? Is it gross because “ewww the razor I use on my face goes all over your legs”? If so, that doesn’t make sense because, as I said earlier, he wouldn’t mind putting his face on my leg.
Confession number 2: I shave my legs with his razor. And ocassionally…my arm pits.

Confession 3: When people come to my door, I hide from them. Not really because I’m scared but because I don’t want you to see me because I don’t want to see you. I’m particularly suspiscious of the people who knock more than once and don’t leave anything on my doorknob or doorstep. Why did you come fair stranger? Why?

Confession 4: I have only ironed 10 times or less in 4 1/2 years of marriage. If it’s wrinkly, I usually check to see if the wrinkles are in places where the legs or arms bend naturally. If they are, hey, you don’t know if I just didn’t iron or if I’ve been bending my joints a whole bunch. If there are too many wrinkles, I’ll throw it in the dryer to see if I can work out some kinks. If that doesn’t work, it will go back into the wash and we’ll take another stab at getting it from the dryer more quickly next time to avoid deep inset wrinkles.

Confession 5: When Lance and I are at home, spontaneously one of us will sing some sort of song…perhaps do some free-style beatboxing, and one of us will dance while the other one continues with the song. I would say that this random outbursting of song and dance happens 2-3 time a week at minimum. One song we like to sing a lot is co-written by us both and it’s called “What Cha Wanna Do”. We sing this song while we are deciding what to do which I know is kind of a curve ball going by the title. This song was born when we were newlyweds and it will live on for all times.

Confession 6: Sometimes when I pee it just shoots straight through the space between the toilet rim and the toilet bowl. There is just nothing I can do about this.

Confession 7: Instead of killing a mouse in my house last year, I bought a mouse friendly trap where it just gets trapped inside and you can let them live out their mouse life in peace and tranquility. But, he lived in my house for freely for an unreasonable amount of time without a trap being out. Why? Because he is so innocent and cute looking. I hoped he would just go away and we could all just be brothers. Then, I realized that mice are gross even though they are cute and fuzzy. I bought a friendly trap to set him free. I don’t know how to say this but he also had a friend who shortly thereafter committed suicide in our bathtub.

Confession 8: I say a lot of mean things in the morning. Like I was in bed this morning and Lance kissed me on the cheek while I sleeping. I woke up and said, “You better never do that again!” I think I say things like this because I’m sleepy but also mad because he usually scares me when he does this. Sometimes I also wipe it off really dramatic and notice-able like. I know when I’m fully awake that’s it’s childish but it really seems like ultimate defiance at the time.

Confession 9: I harbor secret resentment for people who wear their shoes on my carpet. It usually only lasts while they are walking on the carpet. One time my best friend’s, fiance wore these big black work boots on my carpet. He was totally unaware. He decided for some reason to walk like a robot while he walked to the door. He violently shifted his feet firmly on my light colored plush carpet. In my mind it was slow motion. In my mind it was gruesome.

Confession 10: Sometimes I take advantage of Lance in his sleep. Not physically but more emotionally and mentally so, no harm done. When he talks in his sleep I try to ask him questions no one could be fairly asked unconsciously. I can’t tell you what they are because I’m still waiting on those answers.

Confession 11: Lastly, I may or may not have run out of toilet paper and used one of Lance’s shirts on the floor. I said I may not have so don’t be judgemental.

What Else Do You Have To Do December 23, 2008

http://www.todaysbigthing.com/2008/11/11

http://www.todaysbigthing.com/2008/10/24

http://www.todaysbigthing.com/2008/10/14

http://www.todaysbigthing.com/2008/11/03

When I Grow Up December 31, 2008

Do you ever wonder what you are going to look like when you are older? Not just old but like I need a walker, go to bed at 6:30 old. I do sometimes and then I start to laugh at the thought of it. Then I get real sad and quiet until the next time it happens again. Laughing…solemn moment of realization…laughing…moment of realization…You understand.

Did you know the bone in your face completely replaces itself every 7 years? Totally replaces itself. So…if you are 21, you have a third generation of your face. No copy is as good as an original which is why as we age, our faces become more and more asymetrical and our features become more pronounced. So if you have a big nose, it’s only downhill from puberty. Eyes a little off centered? You are going to be called Old Lady Crazy Eyes in your neighborhood one day.

When I’m sitting at home alone thinking about what will become pronounced in me in elderly years…its a stunning picture. I think it’s going to go a little something like this….4 feet tall, 72 pounds, casper white skin turning transluscent & on a real veiny day perhaps irridescent. And of course, balding. I just don’t own enough head hair to be sloughing it off one day. My bowed legs will become even more distinct, thankfully! Whew! I’ve been looking for new ways to get my legs even farther apart. Wonder what the kids will call me? Old Haggie Hullahoop legs? There’s no way to know.

But hey, there has to be total freedom in having absolutely nothing left to salvage about your body. When that fanny finally hits the floor you just have to say, “Yes! Game over! Pass me the waist high control top panties and the brownies.”

I suppose getting to total body freedom is a gradual phase. I’m not sure how many phases there are in this process but I can safely asess that I’m somewhere in phase 1 or 2, as I should be in my 20’s. You enter different phases of total body acceptance as you accept defeat to mother nature. I’m making this up as I go along.

This first time I waved the white flag to my body was about the fifth time I tried to rub off that “smudge” on my leg. As it turns out, spider veins don’t rub off but they sure look like you accidently got some marker on your leg. Moment number one of phase 1. Eventually a spider vein gives way to wrinkles, sun spots, sagging chesticles, and at some point during all of that you just have to get all crazy like a body suicide bomber and say there is nothing left to lose now….all engines are failing…might as well just crash the whole thing into the ocean and enjoy the rest of the ride. This is when you have arrived at total, “I can’t do anything to save this body” FREEDOM.

Because really, at some point, your butt doesn’t look good in jeans and no contraption on the face of the earth can help you. So you don’t have to think about the fit of a pant anymore. You can just get your light pink sweat shirt and wear it with your darker pink elastic ankled sweat pants and call it day. Why not? Not like a nice christmas embroidered pair of pants is going to accentuate your mom butt. Just wear whatever your old, crazy unhibited self wants to.

At some point, even the people that spent all that money on plastic surgery can’t be helped. Did you know that if a woman gets breast implants that as she ages that the implants stay up high and her skin sags down around the implant? Who’s sexy now sucka!!!!! Well, no one at that point so my comeback is totally un-effective and contrary to the point I’m trying to make.

Dang it.

My point is that someday we are all going to be in the same boat. And the beauty of it is–is that we just won’t care when we get there. The key is getting to the point of total body freedom as early as possible. If you read this blog and thought, “What is this 26 year-old talking about with “surrendering to mother nature one phase at a time”?! Congratulations! You are at least in a 5 or 6 phase. You must’ve already surrendered to a lot of things at your age to get this point. You must be really old. You’re almost to the body suicide bomber phase. I’d say you have like 5 or 6 phases still to go but like I said, I’m just making this up as I go along.

I think a good way to open the pathway in your mind to begin this process is to think about how you will look when you are really old. It has really been effective for me. You have to know where you are headed and take it in to begin the process of absolute body defeat. I think I’m really on to something here.

Hello Sperm, It’s me….Egg January 2, 2009

Hello Sperm, it’s me…egg. Have you been avoiding me? Do you realize that you have stood me up 16 months in a row! The appointment is the same every month and you can’t seem to remember. Let me remind you… the 14th EVERY month, in the tubes. Approximately 9 pm.
Do you think I can’t replace you? There may be a lot of fish in the sea but there are like 100 million of you in my uterus pond, okay?!

I gurantee you don’t even know where you are going. It’s like ONE turn, are you serious? I forget the guy that keeps bringing you to my house has ADHD. Are you like him? Do you start off to my place thinking “fallopian” “fallopian” and then two seconds later you’re like….”Ooooo what a pretty uterus!” Ugghhh. You are such a child.

You are waiting for a “prettier egg” aren’t you? You are so shallow. You disgust me. You and your stupid big head and crazy little tail….

I’m giving you one last chance to meet me this month on the 14th. If you can’t find you’re way, follow your friends. I will take in your BFF this time if you can’t make it. You better make like Michael Phelps…I’m warning you….

Sperm…..

They’re all the same.

The Countdown January 19, 2009

I’ve had several friends who have had c-sections. I’ve heard many of them say that there is some intial, fleeting disappointment that they didn’t get to push the baby out. It’s almost this sense of “not getting to give birth” even though you do, essentially, either way. I suppose, it’s not how you pictured it your whole life as a child. Sometimes I feel that way with trying to make a baby.

Everything we daydream about when we are young never has a flaw to it. On your wedding day, photographer’s don’t step on your veil and rip it out of your hair as you walk down the aisle. (Shout out to Sherly Lockett Studios)

And when you picture having a baby, you picture casually being with your hubby and enjoying life, only to to wake-up 2 weeks later screaming with surprise, fear, and joy on what you just read on the toilet seat.

There is an innocence to that type of conception. That innocence gets chipped away at when it becomes something you work for, literally.

My journey to conception thus far looks more like the mating rituals of wild beasts….at least for two weeks. There could be nothing more un-romantic than “trying to conceive sex”. The first two weeks, like we are programmed to do…literally because we use this computer that tells us when to…..Lance and I retreat to the bedroom on schedule. The first two weeks of the month, primarily the second week, is like running some sort of scientific marathon of endurance against desire and mother nature. There are times where we are getting ready to go to bed and I’m like, (boo hoo voice) “The computer says we have to do it.” =0( Lance: Boo Hoo Hoo.

If you’ve ever been there, then you understand. It’s a far cry from, “I’m feeling frisky tonight and SURPRISE frisky got us a baby this month!”

So I evny the 50th person this month who on my facebook has posted that they are pregnant with their first or even with their second. I evny the simplicity with which they arrived at their announcement. Most of their journies don’t involve science, 100 pregnancy tests, wondering what could be wrong, and blogging from the perspective of an egg.

However, my journey is my journey for it’s own good reasons. I’m grateful we are young and healthy. I’m thankfull all of the cards are “stacked in our favor”.

But as I sit here and anxiously countdown the minutes and hours until I can take the big test, I still evny the creation of a child where the process was protected from the repetitive disappointment of one simple pink line.

The days before I test are always the hardest and always when I feel the bumps of and bruises of the journey the most. It’s hard to be excited. It’s a journey that pulls you 50 different ways, 50 different times a month.

Today’s direction is that I don’t think I’m pregnant again which makes me envy people that pop-out kids like a pez dispenser. That’s the spirit Rebecca!

BUT I’m still trying to keep in perspective my blessings.

This is quite a ride….tick tock tick tock….we’ll see.

Chickens Are My Favorite January 7, 2009

So today I went to the gyno. Boys this is your chance to click on another post……unless you are a REAL man.

Let me say that my doctor is the best doctor every made. If she were a Girl Scout cookie, she’d be a thin mint. If she were a jungle beast, she’d be a lion.

She is so caring and compassionate that you would think that I was her first patient. I am in love with my gyno.

It’s no secret that my womb has not yet been occupied by a person.

Lance and I both have been checked out & tested and we are all clear. So where is this child of mine?

Well, today I was talking to the doctor and telling her about the bedroom happenings of Lance and I. I mentioned a certain product that we use. Just so no one feels uncomfortable I’ll give you a subtle hint as to what it is….it sounds something like slubricant only with less of an “s” sound.

The doc said, “You shound never use slubricants when trying to conceive! They have the same damaging effects as “mermicide”! (another code word) This could’ve been the problem all along!”

I said, “Well, I don’t know what to do then!”

Her solution…Egg Whites! This has really made some people grossed out but I don’t really mind at all. I’m so exicted that my no baby problem could be only a few eggs away from being over!

Praise the Lord for chickens! Who knew there were so many uses for the common egg. It’s beginning to make me wonder what other options await me in the dairy aisle. Yogurt for yeast infections, egg whites as lubricants, I mean slubricants. Next time I have a problem with anything I may just give it a whirl and slap some milk on it and see what happens.

This is such a simple problem to fix! I really hope this works!

Oddly enough my father-in-law just bough a chicken coop on his farm so that I could have fresh eggs to use for the cakes I sell. Little did he know, he is now running The Dogwood’s Farm Fertility Clinic!

When I told my mother-in-law, she referenced the chicken coop and said in her funny southern drawl, “The Lord works in mysterious ways!” She’s a hoot. But then again, she is right and this definetly would qualify as mysterious.

When I left the office today my doctor smiled and said, “Now I expect to see you back soon!”

Based upon my determination and the number of eggs in my fridge, I’m thinking that I will. I mean I would hate to disappoint her. She is, after all, a thin mint and a powerful jungle beast.

Long live chickens!

Bail Out Your Own Boobs January 10, 2009

I have read a lot of news titles recently. Ones about women so obsessed with babies that they carry around real-life looking dolls, to one about a man hanging upside down by his pants from a ski lift thus exposing his butt. But NONE compare to what I just read today.

PORN INDUSTRY SEEKING FEDERAL BAIL OUT.

Can we have a moment of silence please. Not necessarily to honor the absurdity of this statement but more because I need a little personal time-out before I lose my religion over a headline.

The porn industry in America is unforntunately one of the single most successful products produced in this world. FACT: Last year the adult-film industry had a profit so large that it made more money than all professional sports COMBINED!. Unfortunately, there will always be a profit and a massive market for pornography.

The industry is requesting a 5 BILLION dollar bail-out. This request being made by Flynt, of Hustler magazine, and Francis, the CEO of Girls Gone Wild.

CNN quoted them as saying this,

Francis said in a statement that “the US government should actively support the adult industry’s survival and growth, just as it feels the need to support any other industry cherished by the American people.”

End quote.

You have got to be kidding me!!! If there ever was a euphamism used, it is here with the word cherished. Sitting in a hormonal sweat watching people degrade themselves and broadcast it for profit is not something we “cherish”. We cherish time with our families and relationships. We cherish things that are meaningful and things of substance and hell will freeze itself ten times over before there will ever be an ounce of diginity muchless meaning and substance to the flith of pornography.

CNN further quoted Flynt and Francis as saying this,

But the industry leaders said the issue is a nation in need. “People are too depressed to be sexually active,” Flynt said in the statement. “This is very unhealthy as a nation. Americans can do without cars and such but they cannot do without sex.”

“With all this economic misery and people losing all that money, sex is the farthest thing from their mind. It’s time for congress to rejuvenate the sexual appetite of America. The only way they can do this is by supporting the adult industry and doing it quickly.”

End quote.

The issue is a nation in need? In need of pornography?! There are no words in the English language to capture the absolute ignorance of this statement.

Pornography is an addiction.
Pornography is boredom and discontentment with your partner.
Pornography destroys lives.
Pornography breaks-up marriages.
Pornography is a perversion of intimacy.
Pornography is the master of people who spend their hard earned money on indecency.
Pornography is degrading to women and a trap to the men who can’t escape from it’s tempting pleasure.
Pornography is not the need, it’s the problem.

It’s problem enough that it drives a man to say, “People can live without cars, but people can not live without sex.” It’s a problem when a man thinks this world needs pornography to run as if it is a necessity. Furthermore, robbing the world of pornography is not robbing the world of sex, it’s robbing the world of being voyers and watching strangers have sex with one or many people for a dime. Sex will not die if your industry does. You didn’t author sex and you won’t end sex. Pornography is a perversion that we would be lucky to have robbed from us. Gosh, then what would do…be left to enjoy only the sex with our spouses? Poor us.

Let me give you analogy for what a sick pleasure this is.

If I were to watch you have sex through a window in your house, no one would think that was normal much less appropriate. That’s called voyerism. As a matter of fact, if I were to be caught watching you, I would be put in jail by the same government that you want to you pay you to stay in business. But somehow we aren’t perverts if we purchase a copy of strangers having conscentually viewed sex which is essentially viewing paid prostitution. I realize the difference between watching porn and watching someone without their consent, is the issue of the privacy. However, my arguement is not about the people being watched, but the how the dysfucntion of the people watching is the same. If I want to watch people I don’t know or do know, in any setting, have sex, either through a window or on my TV, there is no difference in respect to the watcher. Consent of the party being watched doesn’t change the perversion of my motivation to want to watch you. That’s why we think voyers are gross, right? Because what’s so wrong with a person that they’d want to secretly watch people have sex. Well, pornography in any form is secretly wanting to watch people perform sex acts. It’s no more than respectable voyerism.

Pornography has never enriched the life of a person watching it or the lives of the people making it anymore than a fleeting temporary rush or pay-off that leaves them hungering for the next hit or high like a drug addict. It’s the chase after fullfillment in something that is utterly empty. What this world needs is not more emptiness. We need not another cheap form of instant gratification that only offers us a picture of the perverse which perverts our minds and makes us crave it’s dysfunction.

How do I know it’s a dysfunction of soceity? How do I know it’s a perversion? How do I know it runs our world and control’s it’s people?

Because no other thing on earth consumes us like this:

Every second – $3,075.64 is being spent on pornography

Every second – 28,258 Internet users are viewing pornography

Every second - 372 Internet users are typing adult search terms into search engines

Every 39 minutes: a new pornographic video is being created in the United States

US adults who regularly visit Internet pornography websites: 40 million

Daily pornographic search engine requests: 68 million (25% of total search engine requests)
Monthly Pornographic downloads: 1.5 billion (35% of all downloads)

Monthly Worldwide visitors to pornographic web sites: 72 million

Internet Pornography Sales last year: $4.9 billion

The United States leads in the number of porn pages on the web with a total of : 244,661,900

Number 2 is Germany with 10,030,200. Be proud America, we lead by 234,631,700 millon pages.

Trust me, I’m not some naive person that doesn’t understand the allure of the forbidden. That is in our nature. My harsh tone is not condoning, however, not in judgement of the people who struggle with this temptation. It’s towards the people who are arguing that this is a wonderful, life enriching, healthy thing for our world. I get why people are so hooked on this stuff. I know boys, girls, men, and women addicted pornography on many levels. I know marriages that have been destroyed by it. I know children who have been victims of sexual perversions that started with some sick persons click of a mouse. I know of a teenage boy who killed himself because he couldn’t stop looking at pornography and the control it had on him was driving him crazy. I know of men who have lost their jobs because they couldn’t control viewing it at work. I know of parents whose 8 year-old child kept viewing their pornography tapes and they couldn’t throw them away to protect their child because they wanted to keep it so badly for themselves. I know why it hooks people and I know anyone can become hooked. That’s why this is so serious and not just some carefree entertainment industry that needs saving as if it’s the equivalent to movie theatres or some harmless past-time.

It hooks people because it’s a rush, it excites them, it feels good to them. In the same way, I’m sure doing drugs gives you a pleasurable physical high, but not all things that are pleasurable are beneficial. This is one of the most addictive and accessible poisons a person can take and they are, second after second, click after click, page after page.

I wish I could say that I would’ve never imagined the day the there would even be a mention of a bail-out to save pornography, but that’s not the hopeful world we live in. We live in a world driven by sex and we don’t even mind it because sex makes us crave more sex, thus resulting in things like pornography. We live in a world where sex is sung out in detail on the radio, where commercials have girls in bikinis to sell hamburgers, and in a world of where your kids can see dear Mr. Flynt’s magazine while walking down the aisle in a Barnes and Noble . Why wouldn’t we live in a world where there are people that think material acting out the explicit should be saved as a cherished necessity of our soceity?

So go ahead and make your silly request to save your little industry so that you can pay some girl millions of dollars to sell her body in hopes to sell it to people’s sons, daughters, and husbands. Tell me I’m wrong, tell me there is freedom to do all things and that whatever a man does can be right for him. Tell me that people would rather have access to pornography than cars to drive and food to eat. Tell me it’s a healty desire, tell me it’s normal because we all do it. Tell me that we need it, tell me that I’m narrow-minded.

And I’ll tell you that, “Tolerance is the mark of man with very little conviction.”

You can try to take our 5 billion dollars.

It’s already cost us way more than that.

Putting All My Eggs In One Uterus January 14, 2009

The week of using dairy products in the bedroom has come to an end. Thankfully. I think I enjoyed the experience more than Lance did. Poor guy. I found it rather comical while he found it to be the single most un-sexual experience of his life.

You know, a lot people told me before I tried these doctor’s orders how gross they thought this was. Honestly, it didn’t really strike me as gross until seconds before. As I have been telling people, I would stick a whole pizza up there if I thought it would get me pregnant. Extra large pizza, cheese, and pepperonis? Whatever is necessary. One girl even told me, “You’d probably stick a whole chicken up there and let it lay it’s own egg!”

How can one person know me so well?

But anyways, back to seconds before it began to gross me out….

Lance was standing thrilled to death by our bed covered in towels. A sexual experience that begins in draping the bed in terry cloth is bound to be one of the most tantilizing experiences of your life.

So as the story continues, I’m standing in my adult dinosaur-printed footed jammies whipping an egg white and preparing to make myself a fertile egg of my own. As you can see, I like to start out already incredibly sexy experinces with tempting attire to top it all off.

Watching the egg whites beat around started to give me a gagging feeling. However, none so gaggy as when I had to suck it up in the medicine dropper…it was very much like, well, I can’t say. It’s just too gross. Am I having boundaries in blogging? (says the girl who posts about food slubricants….)

What happened moments later? You will never know. This will just have to be a cliff-hanger for you. I can promise you that it ended in our matress, most likely, becoming a carrier of salmonella. You may get food poisoning just from laying in our bed.

Some other words that come to mind to help you capture the event….ummm….un-sanitary, scrambled, natural disaster, maybe thoughts of toast and bacon, sad husbands, laughing wives….things like that are all good indicators of the experience.

HOPEFULLY approximately 3-4 chickens is all it took and there will be no need to fertilize my womb with food products next month.

Overall, I will give the week of eggs an 8 1/2 for cost effectiveness and good laughs. My husband will give it a 2 for being the exact opposite of every man’s fantasy. Chickens would probably rate it about a 7 for creativity. So…Lance is out numbered. Me and the chickens win. If needed, the chickens and I will gang-up on him next month and get him in his sleep if necessary.

Would you rather… January 15, 2009

Listography July 26, 2009

I love making lists. This has got to be the Type A, obsessive compulsive disorder part of me. I found this book called “Listography” a wee bit ago and it made my heart sing some sort of glorious song like “My Heart Will Go On” or “Baby Got Back”. It’s basically the dream book for lazy people who are also sentimental. The sub-caption of the book is “Your Life In Lists”. Basically, each page is a question about a time in your life, a memory, a “love/hate” list, etc. The author says its, “your way of making an autobiography through lists.”

I would keep writing about this book but I can’t because of all of you guys screaming at me to share some of lists.  Get off my back!!!!

Biggest Pet Peeves

people singing the wrong lyrics to songs

 people stepping on the back of my heels

 people not paying attention when I’m talking to them

someone without commonsense

List Things You are Glad You Did

-get married

-did the musical

-moved out of BG even though at I didn’t want to

-lived in a big city

-not going to either of my graduations

-being on Dance Team in high school

-took a year of sign language classes

-graduating high school and college early

-fell in love

-broke up with him

-taken good care of my skin

-never drinking or smoking

-getting braces

-making sure my parents have heard me say in unmistakable words what I love and appreciate about them

List The Times You’ve Had an Audience

-tons of dance team competitions/performances

-Once on this Island the musical

-over 100 tours of the Corvette Plant

-speaking at Western Kentucky University and singing for Campus Crusades for Christ on Campus

-my first solo in 1st grade: Away in a Manger

-singing at church

-singing in Nashville and Atlanta

List of Famous People You’ve Encountered

-Jonas Brothers (Street in NYC)

-Jodie Foster (store in LA)

-Reese Witherspoon (Nashville intersection)

-Dolly Parton (Nashville airport)

-Denzel Washingtond (bottom 3 all on David Letterman Show)

-Regis Philbin

-David Letterman

——————————————————————————————————————————————-

Don’t you love this book?  It’s so fabulousity and easy to do.  It has 150 some odd pages of questions and writing space and it’s simply splendid.  If you are neurotic like me, you want this book.

Call Me Mrs. Teacher January 17, 2009

We have been teaching English to African refugees at our church and we asked one of the kids to write a sentence.

Do I think we are doing a good job?

So yeah….
pretty good job….

Google tells me I’m creepy January 27, 2009

If you knew someone and you associated them with sexual references, you would probably think they are kind of creepy.

You know how on your dashboard it tells you what people searched on the web to end up on your page? Well, here are a few things that people were googling when they ended-up on my page:

how to make a perverted ornament, skinny dwarfs/little people, dress-me-up panty stories, buy your own boobs, boys-how to grow your own boobs, january ski accident man with his pants down….

What does this say about my blog? I’m kind of like the internet version of your creepy friend you associate with sexual or bizarre references.

Can we still be friends?

Avalanche March 31, 2009

January 2009

Dating is the most broken system in our world. I think it all but prepares you for marital struggles.

You meet someone, honeymoon begins, gets rough, gets better, gets rough again but worse because of the baggage from the last time, you break-up, you miss each other, you avoid calling each other, then someone breaks down, “oh i love you”, “I’m sorry”, honeymoon begins again, and then final breakdown, gameover….

Yeah. That’s how it goes.

So what happens when you get married? You love each other and go in cycles just like dating and at some point, get to a point where you think, “Man, if we were dating rightnow I’d be like PEACE OUT.” But the difference is, you’re not dating…you’re married. You’ve never had to get to a breaking point and then keep going. All of your life prior when you get to a dead-end, you end the relationship and start over again with someone else.

It’s weird though when you are working through things in the early years of marital bliss because you start to think to yourself, “I’ve never been here before, how do I keep going on from this point on anew?” Anew being the key word.

This process of getting to the end of your rope and continuing is like a snowball. Every battle scar piles and piles. One fight, one hurt heart at a time, the pressure mounds until you are left with one big snowball just waiting for someone to yell avalanche and run out screaming.

Tonight me and my snowball (who sometimes is at least half of a snowman) watched a murder mystery on 48 hours. The interviewer asked the brother of the victim what her husbands motive would’ve been for murder. The brother laughed like the answer was obvious and said, “Marriage. 1,000 hurts, 1000 insults, 1,000 fights….after 27 years of marriage, if you don’t have some moral center than you can get to a breaking point.”

Now, most people would get a divorce and not find murder as the ideal breaking point. I feel crazy sometimes but I don’t think either one of us is going to take an ole’ axe to each other. Although, the thought is less offensive, at times, more than others. (Disclaimer in case Lance dies and someone reads my blog to incriminate on me on 48 hours. I, Rebecca, have not seriously thought of axing my husband. Whew, you can never be too careful these days.)

But back to the point…I kind of thoughtfully said, Hmm out loud when the victim’s brother made that comment. I’ve only been married 4 and 1/2 years and I understand that words are hard to overcome. Shortcomings of your spouse start to feel like personal attacks. An empty dishwasher and sink full of dishes and a husband on the couch can sometimes feel like he screamed the B- word at you. Nights where you roll over and go to sleep instead can make him feel defective. Never before marriage did I understand that dishes and sleep could be weapons.

Why can’t we love our spouses like people love their children? There is something much more effortless to a parent-child love. My job, for those of you who don’t know, is working for a privately owned therapy place here in town. Next week I will spend 12 hours with parents who are so fed up with “Billy” punching them, stealing their cars, shoplifting, etc. Or I’ll listen to a mom talk about her daughter “Sarah” who keeps lying to her over and over or yelling them at stores. It almost never fails though they will end up telling me how much they love them and how they never use to be this way and how they hoped they could get better. These children have betrayed them, hurt them, devastated them BUT it’s almost like they don’t know how to feel bitterness towards them, unforgivness for them. If that was a woman talking about her husband or vice versa…FORGET IT! The conversation turns more to, “I hate him”, “He’s a jerk”, etc. Why is that? Why does there seem to be more grace between parents and kids than between spouses? Is that because when your child came screaming into your arms that they didn’t make you any promises? Is it because they came to you innocently and you invested in them so much over time that’s it’s something you can’t possibly ever give up on? Is it because they were given to you but you chose your spouse and things you “choose” you can then regret? We can’t regret what we can’t help. We can’t help the children we have but a spouse can be regretted? I don’t think we should regret our spouses but I wonder if the element of choosing someone to marry makes us less forgiving of their actions because you “took a chance on them” and they aren’t “giving you what you feel due”. I don’t fully understand the difference but I know there appears to be one.

The answer is, I know the answer to my original question. I know the answer to loving during the breakdown is in forgiveness. I know it’s in grace. I know it’s in not being prideful. It’s in “I’m sorry” and actions to prove that you mean it. It’s in knowing that you’ve been forgiven. It’s in the Lord. It’s in knowing that they’re human and that you have a list of your own failures. It’s in not being afraid to be vunerable and not being so arrogant that you can’t humble yourself to say “I was wrong” or “I forgive you”.

Still, marriage is hard isn’t it? I feel like Lance and I’s marriage has been front loaded as far as struggle. GASP, did she say that? Did she admit they’ve had real struggles in their marriage already? You aren’t supposed to admit those things!!!

But that’s wrong too. When we don’t admit our snowballing struggles to each other we lead others to believe that it’s just them in the blizzard. That’s a selfish, prideful thing to keep to ourselves so that we can save face with others. I’m not saying that everyone has to brodcast it but we have to stop being afraid to tell people when we’re hurting and struggling. Even if they tell people…”Oh did you hear of so and so, I think they are having hard time.” People who say that are sort of dumb anyways because having a hard time isn’t “having a hard time”. It’s having a marriage and that’s true for all of us at some point.

You know, the weird part of is, is that no matter what, I still miss him when he’s gone and I still always love him. There are times just like last night where I feel totally dis-enamored with him. We were sitting on the couch and I was watching him from my end while he watched TV. I was thinking about how I felt and I was doing so in amazement because it’s almost like through the blizzard of it all, I can still seem him as a snowflake. Even if I don’t always want to tell him so.

Those flakes mound in our lives one after the other. They keep us prideful, hurt, and disappointed. But after all the snow balls have been thrown, I’m still glad to be sitting with him in a snowsuit. If I’m mad at him, just don’t tell him I said so okay?

It Is Finished. January 22, 2009

Looks like this month was another one-liner.

How’s that old saying go? 18th times a charm?

LOL-ers Beware January 22, 2009

It’s really hard for me to type the letters LOL. Not so much physically, but more from knowing I’m way to cool to use that specific abbreviation. If you’ve typed that to me, don’t be afraid. My blog is a circle of welcoming. I’m just saying that I think it’s SFR…silly for real. It’s true, I have typed it and sometimes, if I really mean it, I will break-out of my shell and hand-out a few of them. For example, Heidi just inspired me to do so. I will admit, however, that I wasn’t fully comfortable with the vunerability of subjecting my personality to such technological cliches. Thus, this blog.

People type this all the time and I don’t think that they realize that there is actually some risk involved. For example, there are two people who I talk to either through text or on the internet the majority of the time. A lot of our conversations will involve a bunch of hahaha’s and LOL. Occasionally they may scatter in a few exclamation points. So, when I started seeing these people in person after a boat load of texting and chatting what did I expect? Well some laughter that would probably be out loud. Maybe a few sentences that would be likely to end in a strong mark such as the exclamation. But I was so confused because I don’t think these people have ever giggled in public nor have they ever made statements that would cause others to do so.

The deception of LOL-ers is real. Why when we were talking and something funny was said did they not just text SPTM (smiling politely to myself) or SHQ (sitting here quiet). I felt so confused and un-prepared for how they were in person that I just wanted to run out of the store screaming, “I thought I knew you!”

But LOL-ing is a no win for anyone because either you are too cool and funny to type LOL or you don’t have an expressive personality so you shouldn’t type it to avoid sitting on a throne of typing lies. The moral of the story is, LOL…well, it’s not really for anyone.

So don’t give in. The next time you find some comment made over the internet that you feel entails things of a comical nature, you don’t have to describe via abbreviations what actions those comments are causing you to take. Try something like you would do in a real-life conversation such as, “You are so funny!” etc. This way when you meet this person out in public they won’t be confused because you didn’t lead them astray with a mis-representation of your expressiveness.

GWCWTTTG.

(Glad we could work this through together guys.)

TNOEIRDTW

(There’s no one else I’d rather do this with.)

TFRMBF

(Thanks for reading my blogs friend.)

Jack Handy Deep Thoughts January 23, 2009

One thing kids like is to be tricked. For instance, I was going to take my little nephew to Disneyland, but instead I drove him to an old burned-out warehouse. “Oh, no,” I said. “Disneyland burned down.” He cried and cried, but I think that deep down, he thought it was a pretty good joke. I started to drive over to the real Disneyland, but it was getting pretty late.

Dad always thought laughter was the best medicine, which I guess is why several of us died of tuberculosis.

Maybe in order to understand mankind, we have to look at the word itself: “Mankind”. Basically, it’s made up of two separate words – “mank” and “ind”. What do these words mean ? It’s a mystery, and that’s why so is mankind.

If you define cowardice as running away at the first sign of danger, screaming and tripping and begging for mercy, then yes, Mr. Brave man, I guess I’m a coward.

To me, boxing is like a ballet, except there’s no music, no choreography, and the dancers hit each other.

We tend to scoff at the beliefs of the ancients. But we can’t scoff at them personally, to their faces, and this is what annoys me.

Probably the earliest flyswatters were nothing more than some sort of striking surface attached to the end of a long stick.

If trees could scream, would we be so cavalier about cutting them down? We might, if they screamed all the time, for no good reason.

Better not take a dog on the space shuttle, because if he sticks his head out when you’re coming home his face might burn up.

If a kid asks where rain comes from, I think a cute thing to tell him is “God is crying.” And if he asks why God is crying, another cute thing to tell him is “Probably because of something you did.”

If you saw two guys named Hambone and Flippy, which one would you think liked dolphins the most? I’d say Flippy, wouldn’t you? You’d be wrong, though. It’s Hambone.

If you’re a young Mafia gangster out on your first date, I bet it’s real embarrassing if someone tries to kill you.

If you go parachuting, and your parachute doesn’t open, and you friends are all watching you fall, I think a funny gag would be to pretend you were swimming.

Children need encouragement. If a kid gets an answer right, tell him it was a lucky guess. That way he develops a good, lucky feeling.

Just because swans mate for life, I don’t think its that big a deal. First of all, if you’re a swan, you’re probably not going to find a swan that looks much better than the one you’ve got, so why not mate for life?

If you ever catch on fire, try to avoid looking in a mirror, because I bet that will really throw you into a panic.

If you’re in a war, instead of throwing a hand grenade at the enemy, throw one of those small pumpkins. Maybe it’ll make everyone think how stupid war is, and while they are thinking, you can throw a real grenade at them.

Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you’re a mile away and you have their shoes.

I wish I would have a real tragic love affair and get so bummed out that I’d just quit my job and become a bum for a few years, because I was thinking about doing that anyway.

If you go flying back through time and you see somebody else flying forward into the future, it’s probably best to avoid eye contact.

It’s easy to sit there and say you’d like to have more money. And I guess that’s what I like about it. It’s easy. Just sitting there, rocking back and forth, wanting that money.

Instead of a trap door, what about a trap window? The guy looks out it, and if he leans too far, he falls out. Wait. I guess that’s like a regular window.

During the Middle Ages, probably one of the biggest mistakes was not putting on your armor because you were “just going down to the corner.”

If I ever get real rich, I hope I’m not real mean to poor people, like I am now.

Most of the time it was probably real bad being stuck down in a dungeon. But some days, when there was a bad storm outside, you’d look out your little window and think, “Boy, I’m glad I’m not out in that.”

It’s sad that a family can be torn apart by something as simple as a pack of wild dogs.

Instead of having ‘answers’ on a math test, they should just call them ‘impressions’ and it you got a different ‘impression’ so what, can’t we all be brothers?

Somebody told me how frightening it was how much topsoil we are losing each year, but I told that story around the campfire and nobody got scared.

I hope that after I die, people will say of me: “That guy sure owed me a lot of money.”

Ambition is like a frog sitting on a Venus Flytrap. The flytrap can bite and bite, but it won’t bother the frog because it only has little tiny plant teeth. But some other stuff could happen and it could be like ambition.

How come the dove gets to be the peace symbol? How about the pillow? It has more feathers than the dove, and it doesn’t have that dangerous beak.

Instead of studying for finals, what about just going to the Bahamas and catching some rays? Maybe you’ll flunk, but you might have flunked anyway; that’s my point.

I hope that someday we will be able to put away our fears and prejudices and just laugh at people.

It’s funny that pirates were always going around searching for treasure, and they never realized that the real treasure was the fond memories they were creating.

Deep Thought of the Week by Jack Handy: Week 1 January 27, 2009

“I can still recall old Mister Barnslow getting out every morning and nailing a fresh load of tadpoles to the old board of his. Then he’d spin it round and round, like a wheel of fortune, and no matter where it stopped he’d yell out, “Tadpoles! Tadpoles is a winner!” We all thought he was crazy. But then we had some growing up to do.”

Shiver me timbers… January 29, 2009

We’ve been in and out of power and without phone service for the past two days. I’ve been working from home which means my usual computer time has been devoted to work junk. I’ve been working on a post today and you will be so happy tomorrow night to have a big fat blog!

I hope you guys haven’t been weeping every night wondering where I’ve been.

Un-Stumped. January 30, 2009

I read the other day on a blog post on here where a person posted a very popular blog on how to stump the anti-abortionist. The quesiton he posed was, “If abortion should be illegal, then what should be the punishment for those who get illegal abortions?”

Just think about that for a second and see if you can feel what he’s trying bring about in you.

The purpose is to make the anti-abortionist realize that they do not agree that this should be severly punishable by law like in the case of murder. Something about it makes them feel uncomfortable and that uncomfortable feeling is the proof that it shouldn’t be illegal because consequence doesn’t seem appropriate. That then leads him to prove his point that abortion should not be illegal because you just agreed it’s not punishable by law. The problem is, people say abortion is murder and if it is, shouldn’t they be punished as murderers? Seems too severe, seems to prove his point that abortion isn’t murder at all, even though he is still not pro-abortion himself.

So there are two points:

1-”You” (the anti-abortionist) just proved that abortion shouldn’t be illegal because illegal things must be punished and you don’t feel that it should be.

2- “You” also just proved by your reponse to the question that you don’t really believe that abortion is murder because you don’t feel that they should be punished as murderers.

3- A third point that was made in general by the post and the people that commented on it was mainly that the people who don’t believe in abortion do so mindlessly and don’t understand their own arguments. They posted a script of an anti-abortionist being asked this question and it ended with them being dumbfounded.

I’m going to take this point by point. This is way too hard to reduce down into a blog so I realize that many make break down my arguments and gather implications that are incorrect just because I can’t be thorough enough in short blog but I will do my best. To be clear, I do think abortion is wrong and I don’t support it. I do believe a baby is a baby from conception. Some of my arguements will be coming from a law perspective because this is viewpoint of the original blogger.

Okay…here I go…

Point 1: “You” proved that abortion shouldn’t be illegal because you don’t think or feel comfortable with abortionist being punished.

When I first heard this question, I did get this feeling. But I got that feeling not because I don’t think broken laws are punishable but because the death penalty and life in prison would seem very severe which is the punishment for murder, typically at least. Why did I get that feeling? I’ll explain that in the second point. But lets be clear, if this became a LAW, breaking it should be punishable in some degree just like any other offense. I would thus support a penalty for breaking this hypothetical law we are talking about just like I support fines and tickets for speeders and jail time for robbers etc. But what makes us feel uncomfortable about punishment for someone who gets an abortion, is an understanding for who the person who is getting the abortion. We don’t see people who get abortions as going to clinics saying, “HaHaHaHaHa! I’m going to kill this destroy this baby!” which IS how we see the stereo-typical murderer but we’ll discuss that in the second point.

The question, all emotion side here is, if abortion was illegal should there be punishment for breaking the law. The answer of course would be yes because the law was broken.

Point 2- “You” also just proved by your reponse to the question that you don’t really believe that abortion is murder because you don’t feel that they should be punished as murderers.

That is not what that proves. I think we both emotionally and judicially make a distinction between murder and taking a life. How so? Well emotionally, do you look at a paranoid schizophrenic man who kills the same way that you look at a man who was jealous of his ex-wife so he murders her boyfriend? Do they both scare you? Yes. Should they both be taken off of the streets? Yes. But you don’t look at the crazy man as heartless. You look at him as crazy. It’s the man who is a “normal-ish” type of person who goes and kills out of hate, greed, or power that makes you scream “Lock him up!” Why? Because the intent. Crazy people are just crazy, evil people have no excuse but hate and their evilness. One could help it. One of them could have decided to stay home and not go buy that gun and settled for slashing her tires. One couldn’t because they are crazy and don’t have the mental compacity to be anything but crazy. Justice looks different between these two. The question is not wether or not there should be punishment and judgement but rather, how it should be applied.

This is because murder takes on different punishments by law and the law is what we are talking about here. I believe that the consequence boils down to intent. If I intentionally plan to kill you then it’s usually life in prison, murder in the first degree. If I drive drunk and accidently kill you, which is still murder, then it’s manslaughter. A lesser charge. The difference is intent which I believe is the difference between murder as we know it and murder via abortion. I don’t believe a person who gets in abortion realizes or agrees with the idea that it’s the act of killing wether it is or not. Therefore, the intent is different. It’s considered ‘okay’ and ‘not murder to them’ so it’s not the first degree violent, spiteful killing of the first degree murderer. I’m not saying it’s not violent, I’m not saying that I think intent or view point changes the morality of the decision. I am saying though that legally speaking from the viewpoint of the blogger who posted the question, that intent is why the LAW wouldn’t treat an abortionist like a murderer and also why anti-abortionists in general would not support such a severe punishment of someone who got an abortion.

Is the person who gets an abortion intentionally taking a life? Yes. Does her view point on wether or not she feels that she is taking a life change that a life was still taken? No. Is she a danger to soceity and going to go kill you tonight in your house because she didn’t want to be pregnant? No. So do I think we should treat people who get abortions like dangerous criminals who threaten our well being? No. But do I think there should be some sort of consequence for tresspassing a law and doing something wrong? Yes. I realize that not everyone agrees with me that it is wrong but you would have to agree that law breaking should be punished. That is what we are talking about here so agreeing on the wrong-right issue has to be put aside. The blogger asked the question if it was ILLEGAL, what should we do legally with anti-abortionists. I am telling you that law breaking should be punished and how its punished boils down to intent. What should the punishment be? I couldn’t tell you that and I don’t want to be the one deciding for anyone, for any law.

Point 3- The third point that was made in general by the post and the people that commented on it was mainly that the people who don’t believe in abortion do so mindlessly and don’t understand their own arguments. They posted a script of an anti-abortionist being asked this question and it ended with them being dumbfounded.

I really think these out-right comments and implications ruffle my feathers the most. It’s the least logical of all of their arguments and it’s a very simple one.

Do people get their beliefs handed to them and never study about them or seek out answers to tough questions? Of course, which is a shame. And people are right to point out, as people do to many Christians, that they don’t even know their own Bible because that is wrong and we/people should seek to educate oursleves. HOWEVER, someones inability to explain something doesn’t immediately discount what they can’t defend as wrong. That would be like someone not believing that Physics are real and then asking me to defend my view point. I would stutter and stammer over every word I can’t explain so would they then be able to say, “Ha! Told you it wasn’t real!” That’s ridiculous. My inability to explain why the sky is blue doesn’t change my accuracy of my belief that it is so.

Furthermore, these people went to this anti-abortion protest and asked the protestors that question. You can’t go up to most people and ask them a weighted ethical question on the spot and expect an immediate eloquent, well thought out question. I had an answer to that question but I had to think through all of the implications and questions and answers it raised in my own mind first. I will probably continue to do so. Maybe the people they asked really don’t know what they feel about the subject. Maybe they couldn’t defend their position BUT even well-educated people could’ve had a moment of pause when asked a question they have never heard before. Heaven forbid. So I don’t believe it is right for them to say that these people don’t even know what they believe. I’m sure they’re right many times and many times, I’m sure they’re wrong.

Lastly, in fairness to the dude who wrote the “How to stump the anti-abortionist” post, he himself is doesn’t support abortion but he supports it being legal to chose abortion. Hope I got that right for you man. Only fair that I tell you that part of his view point as well since he isn’t here to speak for himself. I would’ve posted a link to his blog but I couldn’t find it anymore in the Hawt posts.

Anyways, I read his blog over a week ago and kind of stewed things over in my mind. While doing so my husband was reading a blog by John Piper on desiringgod.org that spoke about abortion and I decided to read it for myself. I’ll leave you with more great straight-forward questions and statements from him, from a pro-life perspective. My comments that I added are in parenthesis.

1. Existing fetal homicide laws make a man guilty of manslaughter if he kills the baby in a mother’s womb, except in the case of abortion. (Example: Scott Peterson was charged with 2 counts of murder: Lacey, his wife, and that of his unborn son.)

2. Fetal surgery is performed on babies in the womb to save them while another child the same age is being legally destroyed.

3. Babies can sometimes survive on their own at 23 or 24 weeks, but abortion is legal beyond this limit.

4. Living on its own is not the criterion of human personhood, as we know from the use of respirators and dialysis. (Living on it’s own argument is a popular defense of abortion because they say real humans/people are not dependent to live while a fetus cannot be human because it can’t survive on it’s own.)

5. Size is irrelevant to human personhood, as we know from the difference between a one-week-old and a six-year-old. (This comes from the argument that people make that a child at conception and up until the legal time abortion is allowed, is not fully human merely based on size.)

6. Developed reasoning powers are not the criterion of personhood, as we know from the capacities of three-month-old babies. (From the argument that the child in the womb cannot think and reason like a person/human can.)

7. Infants in the womb are human beings scientifically by virtue of their genetic make up.

8. Ultrasound has given a stunning window on the womb that shows the unborn at eight weeks sucking his thumb, recoiling from pricking, responding to sound. All the organs are present, the brain is functioning, the heart is pumping, the liver is making blood cells, the kidneys are cleaning fluids, and there is a fingerprint. Virtually all abortions happen later than this date.

9. Justice dictates that when two legitimate rights conflict, the limitation of rights that does the least harm is the most just. Bearing a child for adoption does less harm than killing him.

10. Justice dictates that when either of two people must be inconvenienced or hurt to alleviate their united predicament, the one who bore the greater responsibility for the predicament should bear more of the inconvenience or hurt to alleviate it.

11. Justice dictates that a person may not coerce harm on another person by threatening voluntary harm on themselves.

And lastly, questions he poses:

Are you willing to explain why a baby’s right not to be killed is less important than a woman’s right not to be pregnant?

Or are you willing to explain why most cities have laws forbidding cruelty to animals, but laws oppose forbidding cruelty to human fetuses? Are they not at least living animals?

Or are you willing to explain why government is unwilling to take away the so-called right to abortion on demand even though it harms the unborn child; yet government is increasingly willing to take away the right to smoke, precisely because it harms innocent non-smokers, killing 3,000 non-smokers a year from cancer and as many as 40,000 non-smokers a year from other diseases?

And if you say that everything hangs on whether the fetus is a human child, are you willing to go before national television and defend your support for the “Freedom of Choice Act” by holding in your hand a 21 week old fetus and explaining why this little one does not have the fundamental, moral, and constitutional right to life? Are you willing to say to parents in your town who lost a child at that age and held him in their hands, this being in your hands is not and was not a child with any rights of its own under God or under law?

Hope you enjoyed this post wether you’re pro-life or not. Go give your mind a rest now. =0)

Cake-a-liscious February 3, 2009

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Tears & PJs February 6, 2009

The year before I got married was such a bittersweet one. I was so excited to be getting married but so much of my life was about to change. I was actually really sad to lose my last name. I was, afterall, Rebecca Catlett. Who was Mrs. Parrott anyways? That was Lance’s mom.

I was graduating college the day before my wedding and quitting a job I loved that I had worked through most of college. It was like several chapters closing at once.

I remember my last birthday before I got married. I had been in class allllll day and didn’t get out until 8-ish at night. It was one of the first birthdays that wasn’t “a big deal” and when you come from a family that treated birthdays like a national holiday…it was more of a traumatic shock. It couldn’t have been any different though because I was busting my tail with 21 hours of classes so that I could graduate. My 21st birthday was shot.

I remember leaving class that night and walking through the dark parking lot of campus. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man who started walking really quickly to keep pace beside me but they weren’t saying anything. So I had two options of who this person could be: either a weirdo or a rapist. I took my chances and made eye contact and realized it was a weirdo….my dad who had waited for me in the parking lot. He was bookin’ it beside me with a silly grin and a box in his hand. He handed me the gift and showed me how he had maticiously carved out a pattern on purple wrapping paper and layered it over yellow paper so that the pattern would show up two-toned.

I opened it and it was a pair of cotton pajamas that he had matched and picked out himself. That was sweet for many reasons. For one, I love to picture my dad walking through a store coordinating pj tops and bottoms. And two, it was sweet because we had been talking about how I would like to have cute comfy things to wear when I was married to Lance so that he wouldn’t go into shock with the pj’s I normally wore which looked more like a homeless man’s clothes. And I mean homeless MAN too. Nothing feminine about oversized man pants on a girl who is three times smaller than the pants. I should add that I went back to hobo wear within months of being married.

At any rate, it was so special. It was so bittersweet. I was so thankful that he came to surprise me that night. It’s almost like he knew I was bummed out about my birthing festivities.

Before he left he said, “Do you know what we were doing a year ago today?”

I smiled and said, “Running 2 miles in our neighborhood together.”

He proudly says, “Yea, not too bad for an old man.”

He just smiled and got into his car and left.

I cried the whole way home. Cried because I knew that our late night runs and a father coming to meet his college age daughter in a campus parking lot were done. I am so thankful that I had such a good life with my dad that it was ‘tears on my face’ hard to see it change. I was also so thankful to know that the man I was about to marry was the type of man who will be finding his own daughter one cool, college night in a parking lot somewhere. It was the essence of bittersweet to me.

I went home that night to my roomate who surprised me with a Finding Nemo birthday cake. I told her what my dad had done just minutes earlier and boo hoo-ed while I showed her the wrapping paper he made and the jammies he picked out for me. It turned into to one of those crys where I couldn’t get a hold of myself and started laughing. All resulting in a picture of me crying over my Nemo cake like a 5 year-old throwing a fit at their birthday party.

I wore those pants my dad gave just last night. Unfortunately, they did become a pair of ugly pants that were dreadful for me to wear. They shrunk from ankle length to about mid-calf and it was time for them to go. I stood there over my trash with those pants in my hands and rubbed the seams and re-lived the moment that my dad came to make me feel like I was still his little girl just months before he would give me away in marriage as a woman.

I stood there for minutes with the pants in my hands and gave thanks for the dad who helped make the woman who was raised in a way that I could find a wonderful man to marry and believe that I deserved to do so.

Those pants had become quite ugly.

But………..it was really hard for me to watch them go.

I Could Do These All Day February 7, 2009

I could do these all day long with new facts. This is the one from my facebook that I just did. I didn’t want any segregation between my book and my blog. I did 35 for this one because I have skills to pay the bills.

1. If I could have 5 wishes…one would be for a beautiful ponytail.
2. I listen to my music in the car ridiculously loud. There could be a terrible wreck behind me and I’d keep on ” If you like you like then shoulda put a ring on it….”
3. The hair on my ankles grows like a wild beasts but the rest of my leg seems to not have much hair ever. Dang these ankles!
4. If you do something wrong, I will call the police on you. I feel like I’m calling some form of enforcement all the time. I’ve seen three women get beat up in three totally different incidences over the years and I of course called the police. So if you’re boyfriend is going to beat you up…just do it inf front of me somehow. I’ll save you. Also, I have called animal control 3 times this year on three different people in my neighborhood. YOu better take care of your pets or else I’ll drive by your house singing, “Bad boys, bad boys, what cha gonna do…what cha gonna do when they come for you.” Also you should know I get scared everytime I call that someone I called on will get mad and come after me.
5. If I could have one thing every week to do for myself, some little frivilous thing…I’d get fresh flowers every week.
6. One thing on my bucket list is to sing in front of a crowd without any nerves…just like I would if I was alone.
7. I have always been good at English but something is happening to me and I’m forgetting how to spell and when to use the correct punctuation marks. I won’t be able to write my name in a few years.
8. Almost every relationship I have had has been long term and long distance.
9. I pooped my pants for the first time this year. Never trust a fart.
10. I like to call people names that aren’t words. A lot of times they come from predicitve texts. For example I may call you snarli or danglah.
11. Once my hands have touched a germ infested object like a shopping cart etc., I know every place my hands touch until they are clean.
12. I’m a control freak perfectionist and I’m really anxious. I’m such a perfectionist that I never feel fully satisfied with anything I do. Jealous? I’m working on this though.
13. I use to change my pillowcase every single night for years. Now I’m not so bad about it but I do have several and probably change it way more than most people.
14. 80’s music is terrible. I don’t care what you say.
15. I love 90’s music and anything that sounds like it came out in the 90’s. I don’t care what you say.
16. I’m really sensitive and hate confrontation. Probably because I’m a worrier and I can’t stop thinking about it. If you are confrontational I’ll probably not ever let myself get close to you. I also don’t like people who are easily offended as in people who you can’t joke with or who are moody.
17. I grind and clench my teeth at night like a professional teeth chomper and sometimes my jaws hurt.
18. I get really scared of anything about ghosts or demons and if I hear a story it will take me weeks to recover.
19. I know a boatload of animal facts and animals are my favorite. It’s mainly exotic animals so don’t ask me some lame question about a robin. I have been known to take notes while watching animal planet.
20. My top three fav songs of all time are: SWV Weak, Extreme More Than Words, Goo Goo Dolls Name. Also could add songs to that list such as Counting Crows Colorblind.
21. My top three fav. albums I’ve ever owned are: Fly Dixie Chicks, Writings on the Wall Destiny’s Child, and by a llloonnnnggg shot: The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill by…Lauryn Hill. I also loved Jagged Little Pill by Alanis Morisette.
22. Sometimes I beatbox around the house and sometimes it sounds okay.
23. When I was a little girl, I came up with the commercial they could air for razors during the summer Olympics. I still think it’s pretty good.
24. I pick my cuticles.
25. One time I picked-up my brother’s goldfish and squeezed them when I little. This is disturbing and nothing like me. I’m sorry I told you that. That’s a real sad story.
26. I’m a stomach sleeper w/ no pillow.
27. I use to say I would I never have kids. Annnnnnnnnnnnnndddddddd…..WISH GRANTED! I didn’t want kids ever until I was about 19 years old. My sister reminded me of this other and I had actually forgotten how certain I was of having NO kids.
28. Texting is the love of my life.
29. I gag when I brush my tongue. It’s real sexy like.
30. I have a raccoon and an opposum that come in my garage every night and eat my cat food. I named the opposum crazy toes and the raccoon garbage.
31. I don’t really like eating candy anymore. Esp. when you compare it to how I loved it as a kid. Also, I don’t really like solid chocolate things (choc. ice cream, hershey kisses, etc.) I do, however, like choc. cake.
32. Doing office work/being a secretary is my nightmare job!
33. I feel more compassion for animals than humans sometimes…just cause, hey, animals can’t help anything they do. They don’t deserve punishment. They are just wild animals so sometimes they bite you and go wild. It’s what they’re supposed to do.
34. On a related note, I think circuses are the worst thing ever to happen to entertainment. Minus prostitution. It’s like, “Hey big elephant! Do you want to leave your jungle and go ride in a cramped semi your whole life? You don’t? Why not? When you get it out I’ll tap you on the butt with a pole and make you do un-natural tricks? Still don’t want to? What if I told you that you could wear an under-sized hat and vest?

I hate circuses. They are full of the richness of all the wrongness in the land.

35. Lastly, I’m going to NYC in 3 months. Yes! Wildest Dreams Come True!

Genius vs. Un-Genius February 8, 2009

This scene will be acted out in a short and powerful script. I will be the role of Genius and Lance will play the role of Un-Genius.

Genius: Ugh, you are being so mindless! You have a problem with this. So far today you have baked a pizza and left the oven on at 400 degrees. We had to jump your car today because you left your lights on all day yesterday and then today we find your car that had just been jumped in the parking lot and you had left the lights on again for over an hour! Then you use the flashlight 15 minutes after I find stove still burning at 400 and you put it down on the counter and walked-off and never turned it off. Do you see that you have a problem with not paying attention?

Un-genius: No.

End Scene.

Quote of the Week: Week 3 February 10, 2009

“I’m telling you, just attach a big parachute TO THE PLANE ITSELF! Is anyone listening to me?!”

I say fertility you say center…Fertilitly! (Center)! February 24, 2009

So I ventured out of state with the hubby yesterday to the Fertility Center. I went to see if the doctors could till the fertile or unfertile soils of my uterine goodies. It was quite the adventure. It was the first time Lance had ever been with me to a doctor’s visit where the star of the show was my lady business. He had a really hard time when I went to the doctor and they had to pull up my shirt and unbutton my pants to press on my stomach so I figured this would be a real challenge to his comfy meter.

Oddly enough, I ended up being the one who was more paranoid about him witnessing the intrusion of my secret places. I had to make him promise not to directly look it in the face. I’m not sure what happens when you do that but I feel like some sort of trauma would be involved followed by feelings of disgust. I think I will have to be in the pain of birthing before I’m comfortable being in the jumping jack position with a spot light on me.

Anyways, it wasn’t so bad when it was all said and done and Lance was very obiedent and obeyed his orders of no peeking, not that I think he was tempted. Thanks brother Lance.

After the “procedure”, we went back into the office and they asked us some questions. One of which was, “Have you fathered any pregnancies before?” I said, “Nope” and noticed a really awkward look on the resident doctors face. This was because when she asked that, Lance leaned back behind me and gave her big eyes and was mouthing yes to having fathered other children. As you can see, we handle infertility with a lot of maturity and dignity. It was funny though. Thanks again brother Lance.

When all said and done, turns out I look as healthy on the inside as a horse. Not just any horse though…a hearty birthing horse. Like some sort of prize winning mare.

BUT (screeching braking sound) they said we are still considered infertile because couples who don’t conceive in over a year are “infertile” wether they test like strong birthing horses or not. Doc says that 75 percent of women who test fine and don’t conceive in over a year will have endometriosis. So, that’s the next step. Surgery to see if endo is there and if it is, then they’ll remove it then.

She said “infertile” couples have 5 percent chance or less conceiving every month. SOOOOO glad I went to see them. I had no idea that a couple not pregnant in a year have a 95 percent chance or greater that they will NOT conceive every month.

Good news is—is that she told me I WILL have a pregnancy. It’s all in the Lord’s hands but I guess she thinks we are too healthy to not be successful in this whole bearing fruit thing. I’m really thankful for that. My mom and sister were very excited about the news but I think trying to have a baby after so long makes you sort of cautious. Sometimes cautious can be slang for “I don’t believe it will happen for me” anymore but I mean cautious. I’ll wait until they poke my uterus to death with cameras and probes to see what’s there before I jump the gun and throw a My Reproductives Rock party. See that’s cautious…I’m not saying there won’t ever be a party…I’m not even saying things don’t look in my favor…I’m just saying that I’m not buying ovary ballons yet.

Hope to have surgery to check out the goods in March. Hope to write you a blog somewhere between April and July with a big fat baby in my belly. Well not maybe big and fat but maybe a minature size baby that will easily leave my body in the appropriate 9 months.

The journey to Operation Coolest Baby That Has Ever Been Created continues….

Rander Randersome February 26, 2009

1. I have this fear of a bolt lossening from a semi-truck wheel and flying through my windshield or window at 80 mph.

2. I love glow sticks so much.

3. I love crazy straws. They are like glow sticks you can drink from except swilry and not full of a poison glow juice.

4. 0000.5% of questions are personal questions in my opinion. You can pretty much ask me anything. Sometimes what people consider personal questions are nothing but big sacks of ridiculous lameness.

5. You can typically tell how excited I am about going somewhere based on how I dress. If I don’t want to go…my outfit will be old and uncaring. If I’m excited, it will be festive and attractive.

6. What makes the above sentence tricky is that I ache to wear PJs to everyone’s house when they invite me over. I consider it “wasting” an outfit to come sit on your couch and eat dinner at your table. Why wouldn’t I just want to be comfortable?

7. I feel like my blog peer pressures me. “Why aren’t you writing? You haven’t posted in days! No one will ever come back!!!! Ha Ha Ha Ha……”

8. I believe in absolute truth and conversly NOT in moral relativism.

9. I can’t eat bread and haven’t been able to for over two years. This is what I miss the most: PB & J, Pizza, Pizza Hut breadsticks, and O’Charley’s rolls.

10. I hate jokes. They are almost never funny and then you feel like you have to laugh and I’m a real bad faker.

11. I moisturize my neck every night and have done so for years. Most people don’t realize that your neck is like facial tissue. No use having a healthy un-wrinkly face and big ole’ saggy neck.

12. When I was a little girl I would play homeless family christmas with my dolls. The dolls would “unwrap” gifts that were old used items wrapped in old blankets and washcloths. The “kids” would always be really happy for what the got but the mom would always get really sad and say, “I wish it could be more”. There is seriously no telling how many times I played homeless family christmas.

13. The first movie to ever make me cry was Fifel. How do you spell that? It’s that Disney mouse movie where the mouse loses his family and sings “Somewhere Out There”. You know what? Homeless family christmas could’ve really fit into this plot beautifully.

14. It makes me real sad when people name their pets serious names. Its a pet…go wild with it. You can’t name your kid Skittles but you can your cat. I’m real sad for all the pets with people names. I know a lot of people reading this rightnow just felt really ashamed of their pet names.

15. I saw my brother accidently launch a bottle rocket in to his fore arm when I was a child.

16. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a ghost.

17. It takes alot to shock me and make me feel uncomfortable.

18. Another fear I have is structures collasping. For example, bridges, balconies, and parking garages. I should probably learn something about construction to help me deal with my anxiety. I just don’t understand how a parking garage can hold several layers of millions of pounds of cars and concrete.

19. I feel a strong sense of empathy and compassion for people. Anyone.

20. One thing that is the stupidest thing ever that I could get on a soapbox all day long about is ultimate fighting!!! Why does anyone think it’s normal to watch people get injured for entertainment? Why does anyone think it’s normal to want to watch people inflict harm on each other? Even more so, frequent hits the head cause parkinson’s and dementia in elderly years. Exhibit A: Muhammad Ali. What are you gonna say…”Hey, my nervous system and brain maybe degrading but at least I hit a lot of people in the head before I died!” Congratulations dude.

21. I have gotten leeches on my body before. Ewwwwwwww….gives me the jitters.

22. I jumped into the deep end of the pool when I was 2 or 3 and remember my mom having to snatch me out. I can actually remember floating slowly to the bottom of the pool and seeing the people on the pools edge as I was floating down. I also vividly remember thinking, “I’m going to jump in the pool.”

23. If I see something that has fallen off of rack in a store etc., I have to pick it up. I feel really bad and lazy if I don’t.

24. I HATE soap operas. Who watches them? How can you watch them? They are ridiculous.

25. The first animal I came close to running over was a black bear. I had my permit and I was driving with my dad through the mountains to go visit a friend. Very exciting.

Quotes of the past 2 weeks March 2, 2009

“I bet a funny thing about driving a car off a cliff is, while you’re in midair, you still really hit those brakes.”

“Whenever someone asks me to define love, I usually think for a minute, then I spin around and pin the guy’s arm behind his back. NOW who’s asking the questions?”

Explosive Personality March 5, 2009

I have always said that if we all had guns attached to us our whole lives, that we would all eventually shoot at least one person. You may say, “Oh no I wouldn’t!” but I’m pretty sure you are totally wrong.

That’s why it was such a good judgement call for us not to be created with gun arms or feet. We would all, in time, fire them off. Plus imagine the dancing obstacles if we had gun feet.

I can tell you that I’m sure that I would’ve shot my gun at two people for sure. Possibly a third guy in my neighborhood who I think is mean to his dogs via ignoring. Wait a second, make it 4 people. If they ever needed someone down at animal control to get crazy and impassioned and shoot animal cruelty offenders, I would totally be the best person to hire. I’m not saying that I want to kill people but I’d have no problem shooting you in the leg if you abused your animal in some way. Maybe I’m really impulsive or maybe….really passionate about things in the heat of the moment? Or maybe, there’s a fine line between passion and impulsivity? Ephiphany! Maybe all these ADHD kids I see all the time aren’t impulsive. Perhaps they are just really passionate about moving around and blurting stuff out.

Anyways, this blog is kind of creepy if you really think about it because I’m telling you that I would have probably shot people if I had a gun at the wrong time. BUT I really beleive that we are all capable of doing anything given the right situation and I really believe we would all shoot people. So I guess what I would say is…if you ever have the chance to permanently strap a firearm to your body, don’t do it. You are absolutely going to shoot it someday. I know you may be thinking that it would be cool and you could be like Inspector Gadged but, Inspector Gadget was probably a really dangerous man to be around and the irony is, people thought he was hero. I don’t even want to get into what would happen if we had go-go gadget arms and tools that popped out of our hats.

Quote of the Week March 9, 2009

If your kid makes one of those little homemade guitars out of a cigar box and rubber bands, don’t let him just play it once or twice and then throw it away. Make him practice on it, every day, for about three hours a day. Later, he’ll thank you.

No Home for Fabulous April 8, 2009

I feel like I walk around with this blog on my heart everyday. I watched the below clip from an ABC show a few weeks ago and finally decided that I would write this. Fast forward the video to 4:00 minutes and watch from there. This is a social experiment with an actor acting like a homeless man who has collasped on the street with a beer in his hand. It’s amazing how few people stop. The woman who did stop to help and how she was treated as a real homeless person is what breaks my heart. No one really even acknowledged that she was speaking. I cried the whole time I watched her. If you would, humor me for a 3 1/2 minutes and watch this clip and then you can read the blog I finally decided to write.

No Home for the Fabulous

He may have been in a wheelchair. He may have propositioned my sister and I for sex. Annnnnnnddddd….he may even go by the name Fabulous. But, he’s still a man. Still a person. And every night he rolls his wheelchair in front of Neiman-Marcus on Chicago’s famous Michigan Ave. and he waits. Waits for no one really because there is no one waiting for him and he waits for no appointments or obligations he must fulfill because the opportunities aren’t his to have. At least for today. He’s homeless and that’s the most credit the world gives him.

That night that we saw him there, my sister and I gave him our leftovers from PF Changs and stopped to talk to him for a minute. I always have to stop and ask homeless people questions. I have to value them and take a sincere interest in them and remind that not everyone just passes them by. Most of the time I take pictures with them. You would not believe how much this tickles some of them. Dont get me wrong, I don’t just walk up to homeless people and tell them to say “cheese”. It’s usually after we’ve talked for a while and I tell them I’d like to remember them and could I take a picture with them. They are use to people ignoring them all day long and when someone not only wants to speak to them but remember them…it makes them feel a way either haven’t in a long time or a way they’ve never felt at all. I know some people think that’s weird and maybe it is but I’ll take my chances.

I have some sort of fascination with homeless people. One that’s born of compassion and a sense of something that’s so difficult that I can’t possibly grasp it. I can’t imagine sleeping on streets, eating out of garbage cans, freezing to death through winters, and yearning for a shower in the summers. But of all of the things that come with losing your home and living on the streets, I think the thing that would be the hardest would be losing your personhood. No one looks at you. Most people will judge you. Most people won’t look you in the eye even if you were to catch them staring. You become unhuman and shameful simply because you are less clean or….I don’t know…I can’t even think of the reasons why the homeless become unhuman to people because I just don’t understand that thinking.

I will never forget being in Chicago two years ago and seeing another man streched out and twisted on Chicago’s busy streets like he was a towel that had been rung out and thrown on the concrete. His hand was open where the cup had been and the empty cup that no one would care to even throw their left over Starbucks change in, had rolled out of his open hand and into the streets. His eyes were shut. His hope was gone. His pride and dignity were reduced to lying on a street while the people stepped over him like he was an uneven place in the sidewalk. I gasped when I saw him. He haunts me to this day. The only thing I can think is that he has a mother, a sibling, a family….somewhere. He was born in a hospital into the arms of a mother who, even if only for that moment, cared and thought he was lovely. I don’t know how he got to that cigarette covered street. More importantly, I don’t care because it’s irrelevant to my choice in the moment. He came in this world the same way I did and he laid there on that street just as much me as I am him: living, breathing, hurting, humbled, human.

My favorite scripture verse in the Bible is this:

“Do not withold good to whom it is due when it is in the power of your hand to do so. Do not say to your neighbor, go and come back and tomorrow I will give it, when you have it with you today.”

When I see a man like Fabulous sitting in his poverty, ironically sitting his life away in front of a store that I can’t believe the wealthy owners even “allow him to sit in front of” for fear of offending customers….I hear those words in my head. They would convict me if I walked away. “Do not withold good to those whom it is due….” How you evaluate “to whom it is due” depends largely on how highly you see yourself and how much grace you have when you look at others. It is due to all people. To garbage eaters and to the person who sits blessed on their laptop and reads this blog. If we “consider others greater than ourselves” then we will see that everyone is due mercy.

And, “when it is in the power of your hands to do so”….goodness, kindness, and 50 cents? It’s always in the power of our hands to do so.

You know the popular saying that comes around this time is, “They’ll just go spend it on booze…” You are right. They might. But you don’t know that and in the two seconds I have to make that judgement call, I’d rather aire on the side of maybe he needs a coke. If you are that worried about it then go buy them food yourself and bring it back. That’s wise too if you have the time to go get it and come back, then that’s great. If you get to know a homeless person over a period of time, then you could be more wise as to how to proceed with the best way to help them but most of us will pass them by once and never again. A dollar won’t get them drunk or buy crack. It might, however, make them feel remembered or at least human.

Honestly though, I roll my eyes (in my mind) when people say, “Don’t give them money, they will scam you or go buy this or that!!!” I would hate to think that we gamble our money on 8 dollar movies with 5 dollar cokes and popcorn but wouldn’t dare risk the loss of dollar on a person that may actually be hungry. It repulses me. More than not giving someone my dollar, I’d hate for them to think that I didn’t think they were worth it. But as their cups roll into the streets, I know they feel it.

Still, I know for fact that I have been scammed before. My dad and I once fed a “homeless” man in our hometown and went a bought him a hotel room only to find that he lived there and was able to pay on his own. It was very different story from what he told us.

When Lance and I were brand new newlyweds, we picked up a woman and gave her 50 dollars which was about half of our bank statement that day. I found out later that she is a big time scammer around town and I know people who have seen her eating out at nice restaurants. But you know what? I don’t regret it. Compassion never loses. I almost feel worse for people in these cases because of how bad their lives must be or have been for them to make the choices they are doing now. My heart was in the right place when I gave that money and I will continue to risk my money on the hopes that it may actually go to a big mac and fries.

Ya know, there are a lot of things wrong with this world. If there weren’t, then people wouldn’t end up on the streets. But there are bigger things wrong. There are things wrong with how we treat people. Wrong in how we can justify not being compassionate because we’ve come up with some reason that makes us feel better (They should go get a job., It’s their own fault. etc.) There is something wrong in walking by a person on the streets and not even having a twinge in your heart. Tragedy should never become commonplace, but it does. And the sad thing is, it’s not that it becomes less tragic, it’s that our hearts become more hardenend.

Sometimes I don’t know what’s more sad: the family on the street or the families that pass them by.

I often think back to Fabulous and that nameless man who was twisted on strewn over bustling, wealthy Chicago streets. I wonder if they’re alive or if anyone would even care if they weren’t. I don’t know the answer to that. But what I do know for sure if they are living is this.

There will be a homeless man in a rusty wheelchair sitting on Michigan Avenue sitting like a visual contradiction in front of a swanky store. He will have a styrofoam cup and a stack of StreetWise newspapers he will try to sell you for a little bit of change. He won’t look like you. He can’t make you promises of what he’ll do with the change you toss his way. But, he was made in the image of God, born of a mother, loved by someone, breathing the same air, hurting like you, and hoping for a little mercy. Mercy is due him. Compassion should befall you and the gratitude you have for your blessings should move you to stick your hand in your purse or pocket and throw him the leftover blessing you have aimlessly clanging in your pocket. Compassion has never been so simple.

Fabulous 2001

Kenard 2006

I love this… March 13, 2009

I have to have chapstick on me at all times. We all know that Burt’s Bees is the most wonderful chapstick in the whole world. The other day I found Burts Bees chapstick with pomegrante oil. It is SUPER delicious and gives your lips a noticeable shade of color but still subtle and nuetral. I love it so much I’m going to eat it and put it in my belly. You should try it…on your lips first. If you love it so much, then you can eat it.

The Boyfriends. March 12, 2009

I have had a lot of these guys. Lots of real interesting ones. Join me on this list journey, will you?

1-Nathaniel Jones. Preschool deliciousness. He gave me a hot pink Espirit purse with a birthstone ring and totally made me his girl. Other than that, he gave me a lot of kisses in the play ground tunnel and made me late coming back in for recess. Scandalous. I know. Our relationship probably ended around the time my show and tell kaleidescope was stolen from my locker. I could trust no one and take no chances.

2-Scotty Herman…if you ask me, you know he was hot just by the name. Scotty? Herman? Ohhhhhh yeaaaaaahhhh. He was my boyfriend in the first grade. Pale skin. Lots of freckles. He totally rocked my world. Lets be honest though, nothing rocked my world quite as much as when he followed me around the classroom from chair to chair singing, “The Way You Make Me Feel” by Michael Jackson. My honeymoon was nothing compared to the desire I felt for him that day. I don’t know where my teacher was while all this went on but she was probably somewhere totally jealous.

3-Eric Hodges. He was my first real butterflies kind of dude. He brought me a heart shaped box of chocolates to class on Valentine’s Day with a birthstone ring hidden in a fake flower on the front of the box. I didn’t tell him I had already been given a ring from a strapping young lad with a strong name. It didn’t matter. I wanted Eric’s ring so bad that I would’ve given up all my chicken rings at lunch for him. Eric actually came over to my house for trick or treating. He dressed up like a dead baseball player and I showed him that I dressed up like a princess once I finished crying in the bathroom over how dumb I looked. It was like a little date. It went really well which is why he asked to Pizza Hut with his mom and then to a Pee Wee Herman impersonator show….followed by Paddington the Bear at the theater. You thought I was done after the Pee Wee Herman Impersonator but, no. I don’t deal with cheap dates. He’s lucky Pee Wee gave me a slap bracelet or I may never have gone out with again.

This relationship sadly ended abruptly when I saw him and another girl holding up the “I love you” sign to each other across the room in class during a movie. Dang you, Bethany. Dang you.

3-Paul Collins-No, not Phil Collins, PAUL Collins. Now I was in fourth grade and I had no time for carrying on with boys who cheat on my with hand signals. No, no, now I was in love with Paul. We dressed as princess Jasmine and Aladdin for a parade we had at our school. He wore only a vest and exposed his man chest…probably why we continued to date for three more months.

But then I met….

5-Charlie King. He only had half an index finger which was totally cool, of course, but not as cool as his big blue eyes. I think I dated him in between boughts of Paul, on and off for fourth grade. I bet he was real sad as he watched me in my Jasmine outfit, riding a box that looked like a tiger down the hallway with Paul by my side. I bet he went home every night and listened to “A Whole New World” and cried. I forget how we broke-up. Probably because we did so many times. I still him around town sometimes although we’ve never spoken. Wonder if he remembers how gallant I was as I rode my box tiger down the hall?

6-Eric Coomes. All joking aside, he was a true looker. He went to another school and was a baseball player which made he seem thrilling and mysterious. If you refer to one of my other blogs, “Ahhh To Be Young”, he’s the one I snagged with that snapshot of me sitting on lace in a cheerleader pose. He was my boyfriend many times. And many times, I enjoyed it. My elementary school diary is pretty much solely about this dude and my mom making me mad.

7-Deyar Goodman. Be still my soul! I loved this kid. We dated for a whole year and he was the best of all the beaus that any girl in any elementary school has ever beaued. He was hispanic and spicy! No lie, I still have almost every note he wrote me.

When he asked me out at the Chili Supper my wildest dreams came true. We never kissed except for in my dreams. He did tell me he loved me and I said, “I love you too.” Then he told me he did drugs with a boy at the movies and I was real sad. It was probably some sort of candy but sadly I knew he was too much of a wild one and I wasn’t going to start dating wild guys….at least for a few more years.

8-Jared Marquette. Jeff York. Wade Yeoman- These were my main squeezes in 8th grade. Jeff wore Grateful Dead tie-dyed t-shirts and had short brown curly hair. No need to explain the attraction. Wade Yeoman was a quieter type who did the ole’ “act like I’m streching” put my arm around you gig. He was bad at the phone so he was bad at our relationship. Jared Marquette was a year younger than me. First time I tried my hand at younger lads. He was very charming and I was terrified he would kiss me so I broke-up with him.

9-Blake Beliles.- We will end with trusty old Blake. He was my first taste of innocent young love. My “Strawberry Wine” kind of dude. He was the first boy to defile my lips. On the church van, on a ski trip. It was about 6:30 in the morning and the youth group had just arrived at Paoli Peaks and we were all waiting in the van. I was asleep on his shoulder and he woke me up with a kiss. Tongue and all. I was totally off guard and so were my orthdontic appliances but if it I didn’t happen that way, I may never have kissed a boy due to lack of guts. It was quick and disorienting. It was awkward. It made me want to scream hallelujah and throw up simulataneously. I was nervous the rest of the trip because, apparently, you never knew when he would strike. I got over it though and went on to kiss his 15 year old lips for 9 months. Then I broke up with him for this dude named Lance. Then a year later broke-up with Lance for a dude named Ben. That’s who the “How A Heart Breaks” blog is about. Then 3 long years later I broke-up with Ben and dated Lance. And two years later, married Lance. The night I got engaged, the first person I ran into was Blake. Ironic. It was a full-circle experince in the life and time’s of Rebecca’s boyfriends. Hope you’ve enjoyed yourself. I hope your daughters don’t like boys as much as me someday. The end.

Quote of the Week March 16, 2009

When I found the skull in the woods, the first thing I did was the call the police. But then I got curious about it. I picked it up, and started wondering who the person was, and why he had deer horns.

Un-barf March 16, 2009

These two recipes I’m going to suggest may sound like something that will make you barf. But what if you un-barf and realize that they are delicious? For example, saying that I ate 1 pound of brown sugar asparagus makes you want to barf. But you should un-barf because if it weren’t so divine, could I eat a whole skillet full? That’s what I thought. So I dare you to do these. Double-dog.

Brown Sugar Asparagus

3 tbsp. butter, margarine, or reduced-fat spread
2 tbsp. light brown sugar
1 bundle of fresh asparagus with the bottom two inches cut off of the stalks
½ can reduced-fat or low-sodium chicken broth (1 cup)
Large skillet

1: Warm the brown sugar and butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat until the sugar is dissolved.
Step2: Mix the asparagus in the skillet with the brown-sugar-and-butter mixture. Cook for 2 minutes, stirring constantly.
Step3: Pour in the chicken broth, mix well and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat, cover the skillet tightly and simmer for 8 to 10 minutes.
Step4: Put the asparagus into a bowl or dish and set it aside. Make sure the asparagus stays warm.
Step5: Continue cooking the brown-sugar-and-butter sauce in the uncovered skillet until the mixture has been reduced by half.
Step6: Pour the sauce over the asparagus and serve.
Step 7: Scream “delicious” and run around

Pineapple Cheese Casserole

If this name offends you, try a on a name for size like Pineapple Delight. This is what my bff calls it to her friends so that they won’t judge the dish so harshly before trying. My husband ate this at my step mom’s house and begged me to make it. I am not picking but thought it was so gross sounding so I made a dish just for him annnnnnnnnddddd then I ate like 75 percent of it. This is really so good that I could eat it like a dessert even though its a casserole. I will say that I usually cook it just a little longer than most recipes call for, just to get the flour and juice to thicken a little more. Just check it towards the end. Just trust me on this dish dudes. Its from the gates of heaven.

3 (15 ounce) cans pineapple chunks
2 1/2 cups shredded Cheddar cheese
8 tablespoons pineapple juice
8 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 cup white sugar
30 buttery round crackers, crushed
1/2 cup butter, sliced

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
In a large bowl combine pineapple chunks, cheese, pineapple juice, flour and sugar. Spoon into a 9×13 inch baking dish. Top with crushed crackers and butter slices.
Bake in preheated oven for 30 minutes.

Regrets May 28, 2009

“I don’t regret it because I learned a lot.” This is a popular phrase and one of my least favorites, probably because it doesn’t make sense to me. I can learn a lot from something that is still a mistake no matter what I gleaned from it. Learning good lessons from something, doesn’t mean the choice was all made better because of what you learned. There are lots of things I regret that I learned from. I realize that mistakes are inevitable in our lives. I get it. I get that mistakes are supposed to teach us things, but I’m not going to say I don’t regret something because it taught me something. Teachable moments can still be regrettable ones. Not to mention, many times, you can learn the same lessons mistakes taught you in healthy ways so they aren’t always the necessary means although I know they can be.

So,

I regret not calling you that Mother’s Day. I was young and stupid and didn’t understand grace.

I regret not breaking up with you sooner.

I regret saying that to you all the times that I have.

I regret not trying to have a baby earlier because I was “so sure” this wouldn’t happen to me.

I regret not just doing it anyway even if people would judge me or criticize me.

I regret all the years of worrying about other people.

I regret not knowing that before I made up my mind.

I regret taking that birth control patch.

I regret saying that to you in front of the whole class.

I regret not deciding to go with you first.

I regret dressing like a trash ball in high school.

I regret giving you that much of me.

I’m a lazy sack of trash March 17, 2009

My laziness is effecting the eating life of my family. Dinner use to be cooked to the recipe details and I now I just guess at measurements and think, “Ehhhh, it will be fine”. Not because I’m a really good chef and can do this but more because I’m a really lazy, risk taking chef who likes to live life on the culinary edge.

I fantasize about crock pot recipes so that I can use my little cooking robot to cook for me while I’m gone all day long. But then I simultaneously fret over my cooking machine because I’m too lazy to clean out the left-overs from the pot when it’s done so I know I will end up puting them in the fridge until it’s old and odd smelling. Then, after the appropriate time has elasped to where I won’t feel guilty throwing it out, the next step is making Lance stand gagging on the deck while he pours out “the remains”. I tell myself, at the time of storage, that we will eat it again to make myself feel better but I’m just lying to myself and that’s okay if it means I don’t have to dump the pot out. Plus our disgusting lazy left-overs feeds our nature opposum, Crazy Toes, and our raccoon, Garbage, when we throw the junk overboard. I mean what would Crazy Toes and Garbage do if they didn’t eat all of our trashed food? Be real wild animals? That’s silly. I guess it’s a win, win for us both. If only they would come eat it directly out of the crock pot inside then all I would have to do is bring myself to put it in the dishwasher.

Also, I think I loathe chopping things. Like if you were to ask me a house chore or duty I hate the most, after scrubbing tubs, it would have to chopping things. Even though when I cook I know it would taste so much better to have this or that cut up and mixed in….I just can’t do it. How am I already like this? I don’t even have kids yet! DANG IT! And the weird thing is, I use to enjoy cooking even a few years into our marriage. Now grocery shopping I hated much sooner but cooking I could do and not dread.

I think this all changed after I had surgery this summer. I had a stint in the hospital and then a tonsilectomy one month later and it’s like they also removed the organ that is responsible for completeing tasks with enjoyment. Oh my gosh is that my brain?

After a month of no cooking and having people bring me restaurant food or home cooked meals, I can’t go back. Is no cooking black because I went there and I can’t go back.

So if anyone has any recipes that require dumping only rather than mixing, chopping, and cooking ingredients, let me know. Also, I hate browning meat so you should suggest some sort of freeze dried, pre-cooked, and drained meat product to use as a substitution in any recipe you may suggest. And as gross as that sounds and as much as I am totally kidding there is a part of me that wonders, does such a dream meat exist? I’m sure it does but it probably has cancer as one of it’s processed ingredients.

As my punishment tonight, I am making myself prepare a real meal in hopes that I might enjoy the food so much that I may desire delicious food more than easy cooking. I hope its aromas fill the air and its tastiness touches my tummy and I remember that me and cooking use to be old pals. Pork loin, apples, diced potatoes with olive oil and seasoning drizzled on top, and maybe some sort of bean if Lance is lucky. Three sides at dinner is like a freakin’ all you can eat buffet at my house. Don’t push it.

Toilet Tears August 12, 2009

I unwrapped it. Held in my hand and peed all over it. Inhale.

My minds drifts to all the times I’ve done this and to how many days have passed since I’ve taken the first one. During this time, I’ve cried. I’ve laughed. I given up and believed again. I’ve been disappointed and hopeful. I’ve been frustrated at careless comments people have made. I’ve taken three tests for one cycle and then had to take one again even after my period started because, “Hey, this happens to people!” I’ve been embarassed to hope. I cried when I heard you were pregnant. I felt sincere jealousy of others for the first time in my life. I was disgusted with myself. Sitting on the phone crying to my best friend has happened more than once. Trying not to cry while talking to others? Too many to count.

I have felt so pregnant that I would’ve bet the house on it. I have passed fertility tests with flying colors. Eggs have been in places they shouldn’t. Computers have dictated my sex life. I’ve laughed while laying huge pillows under my pelvis and then been sad that I felt like I had to. Facebook statuses became my enemy. I have typed every possible symptom I have felt during the two week wait into ask.com. If I farted too loud I’d probably type “loud farting while pregnant in the first two weeks”. I have figured every possible due date I could’ve had on the online baby predictor calendars. Everytime I would hear someone else that had gotten pregnant, I could always determine how far along they were because I knew when I had to get pregnant to have a September, October baby, and so on. I’ve spent hundreds of dollars on tests. I’ve felt like the “boy who cried wolf” every month. I had an omish guy diagnose my fertility correctly just by looking at my eyes two years before the doctors figured it out. I let my doctor convince me he was wrong.

I’ve watched the Easter baskets come and go on the shelves, turning into stockings, two times, and wondered when I’d need a basket or stocking to fill. I’ve gotten great news. I’ve come to terms with it, all to lose those terms again. I’ve been angry. I’ve prayed and prayed. I had cameras and lasers go in through my belly button and places where the sun don’t shine. I’ve taken pregnancy tests during the wee hours of the morning and the late, late hours of the night so I could get the news in secret so I could surprise Lance later just in case this was our month.

I became a scholar on conception and a novice at patience. I named my babies…okay so I did that 4 years ago. I looked at pictures of a live birth and thought, no thank you. I’ve talked to people that I never would’ve gotten the chance to bond with if not for this process. I’ve followed the stories of others in my position and when I heard you got finally got pregnant yourself I told person after person about it even though you were a stranger to them. I couldn’t believe it was finally happening for someone just like me and I felt the joy and relief for you. I’ve had the way I was going to surprise Lance with the big news hidden in our house for over a year and a half now, just in case. I’ve sat alone in a doctor’s office a week and day late for my period almost crying as I sat there because the possibility that this blessing would be mine to have was overwhelming. I started my period 2 hours later. I’ve prayed for you little baby. I’ve prayed for me, future parent. I’ve pictured a little child in a car seat years from now that I can see through my rearview mirror and I imagine thinking, “Oh how I loved you and labored for you before you were even mine to have.” My soul has yearned and desperately waited on the Lord.

And as I sat there on the cold, familiar toliet with the test in my hand, the past 2 years floated through my mind. I stared at the stark white stick that had mocked me too many times and I waited for any trace of life on its screen. And as one line gave way to two, questions gave way to answers.  Face buried in my hands crying,  finally….finally… Exhale.

ailurophile. March 23, 2009

It is no coicendence that the word “meow” is in the middle of the word “homeowner”. It’s like we were all meant to have cats but cats are totally misunderstood and get the total shaft. People compare cats and dogs and say that cats are no good based upon how they are not dogs. That’s nut-so. That’s like buying a duck and saying its crappy because it doesn’t talk like parrot. Only, that makes more sense than comparing dogs to cats because at least ducks and parrots are in the same animal family…

Comparing canines to felines….shesh.

Did you know that cats are 200 times smarter than dogs and that in the animal kingdom only the apes & chimps are smarter? Did you know that cats are cuddlier than dogs by my evaluation? Did you know that my cats come running when I call their names? Did you know that 1 million Americans go to the hospital each year for dog bites? You can put a BEWARE OF DOG sign up but never, BEWARE OF MY BEAUTIFUL PRECIOUS KITTIES. Did you know that my cats smell like fabric softener, NATURALLY?!

Cats are calmer. They don’t fill your yard up with poo. They don’t need to be bathed or walked. You don’t need to board them in a kennel when you go out of town. Kitties are independent. They won’t disturb your neighbors with meowing all night like dogs.

How many times do you come home to find your dog sleeping like this?

When is the last time you saw your dogs headlock kissing?

I rest my case.

Knock, Knock March 24, 2009

Knock, Knock.

Who’s There’s?

Human Resource Worker.

Human Resource Worker who?

Human resource worker who handled your husbands W4 and saw that he claimed 0 but set it up so that NO federal tax was taken out of his pay check, despite of what he claimed, so now you owe the government a check for a year’s of federal tax.

HAHAHaHahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha……………

I love that one!

Mid-Week Quote of the Week March 25, 2009

“If you’re an ant, and you’re walking along across the top of a cup of pudding, you probably have no idea that the only thing between you and disaster is the strength of that pudding skin.”

Quote of the Week March 30, 2009

“To me, it’s a good idea to always carry two sacks of something when you walk around. That way, if anybody says, “Hey, can you give me a hand?”, you can say, “Sorry, got these sacks.”

The Besties March 30, 2009

These breadsticks are amazing and fill my life with joyous bliss. They come in two flavors: Hallelujah Garlic & Smack Your Granny Parmesean. These breadsticks are yeast free for those few of us who can’t eat yeast. To those of you who can, yeast free doesn’t mean it tastes different, it just means that they use baking soda to leaven it instead of yeast. Don’t be confused, they are yeast free, not gluten or wheat free so don’t try to feed it to your friends who can’t eat those things. For some reason, people get these food allergies mixed up or lump them all together. At any rate, you can usually only find them at Kroger, not Walmart. They are fast, easy, and a delight on your tonguey tongue tongue.

YES FAKE TOENAILS!!!!! I have used tons of different brands of these and I love them all! They are 5.87 at Walmart or you can get them at any Walgreens, CVS, etc. I love my fake toenails way better than the results of a real pedicure and I pay way less than half of the price of going to a salon for a pedi. They will last 1-2 weeks depending what you do with your feet. If you wear open toed shoes or flip flops they will last the longest. If you work out or wear tennis shoes or closed toed shoes then they won’t last as long. BUT they take ten minutes or less and you can throw them on for that one event you need them for. Fake toe nails have a piece of my heart for life. Look at how good they look (my toes are crooked so that’s why one nail is lopsided): &

I hate cleaning my stainless steel appliances because I feel like they don’t really look any different when I’m done. I recently switched from Pledge stainless stell wipes to this Weiman product and it works 1,000 times better. Sometimes on hard spots I’ll let it sit for a few minutes. I don’t know if you are supposed to do that but for the time being there are no holes eaten through the finish. I also use their stove top cleaner but I’m hoping that I find something easier and less chemical smelling.

<My mother-in-law bought me this key chain holder for hand sanitizer and I love it. This way, I can attack germs at any moment. If you are germ aware like me, this is way easy, small, and what you daydream about after touching a shopping cart.

Why do they make men’s products stronger than women’s? I love this deoderant for dudes. I guess if it’s unscented it can be for anyone but they have obvious girl ones that are way wussier than this one. This product says you can skip a day and you can…unless you have way sweaty pits. However, even if you do have really sweaty pits, I know people who do who love this. I’ve heard some say it’s better than over-the-counter clinical versions of lady deoderant. Give it a chance and roll it on your pits.

Kentucky’s Best Kept Secret April 2, 2009

Me and turtleman have a lot in common. Mainly being from Kentucky. Also, I like turtles.

Kissy Kiss April 3, 2009

Okay, only answer these polls if you’ve been married at least 2 years. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how often married couples kiss and then ironically, they talked about it on Oprah today. Just be honest, no one can see who voted including myself.

Clinique Kind of Confidence April 6, 2009

I worked with this teenage girl recently who hated the way she looked. She couldn’t come up with one positive attribute about herself when asked. Too fat. Too short. Everything, literally, everything was wrong. It broke my heart just to listen to her.

I tried to talk to her logically and honestly about it. But truthfully, people don’t get themselves into situations because of logic and you telling them simple logic isn’t going to make them snap out of it. Still, what do you do? I couldn’t give her what she needed to feel okay.

However, I still went on with her. I told her if she looked like Britney Spears than someone out there would say was too thick. Told her she could be as little as me but then someone would whisper in the corner, “I wonder if she’s anorexic?” She could stay the way she is and people would point out her flaws in their cruel, typical 16 year-old way. Or I told her she could embrace who she was created to be and be hated for what jealous peers would deem as “arrogance”. My point, which sounds much less delicate all typed out, was simply that no matter which angle you decide to attack this problem, people aren’t pleasable so you always end up just having to wrestle with that being okay and putting your concern for their opinion up on a shelf.

What she needs is something that no person can give her. Sure, I could’ve given her a makeover but faces have to be washed and hair will be blown by the wind. What then? She would still be herself at the end of the day. I tried in all ways possible to show her the futility of putting your hope and confidence in beauty but she still thought that if she could be pretty “enough” than she would be happy. As we were walking along, I told her a story of this girl I know who was and is so beautiful and how she is one of the most unhappy people I have ever met. I went into detail and as I drew towards the end of the story, I heard her start to cry. It was the first time she had cried in over the 7 sessions I had with her. I don’t know if she was crying because she started to feel the freedom to give up the empty fight or because she was afraid that she is in some part the girl in the story.

This girl was a girl from the projects with very little money for clothes and no money for make-up or getting her hair done at a salon. Honestly, while every word I said was true, I felt like a hypocrite talking to her. Am I truly confident and satisfied with how I look? Are you satisfied with you? Because women are generally critical and unhappy with at least something about their looks, the answer to that question would obviously be, “Of course not” or “I try to be” or “I’m happy about some of how I look.”

I think that I’m a fairly content person but if I were like her and couldn’t afford a nice hair cut, make-up, and clothes that make me feel attractive then I might not be confident at all. Maybe the truth is, my confidence teeters on a compact and good blow dry with a roll brush. With all the products stripped away and nothing to give me a superficial sense of beauty I’m, well, just like that girl. Some women are deceived into self-acceptance and others are left without the money to buy products to cover-up their insecurities. I fear we are only as happy as our best product.

So when all is scrubbed away at the end of the day and all the hairs have fallen out of place, can you say that you are beautifully made? Are you satisified in knowing that your Creator says you are beautiful and that’s the only approval you need? Or are we all just one bad outfit and one broken flat iron away from the truth?

Quote of the Week April 7, 2009

“If you ever fall off the Sears Tower, just go real limp, because maybe you’ll look like a dummy and people will try to catch you because, hey, free dummy.”

I Hate Vicky and Her Secrets April 13, 2009

Dear Victoria Secret,

You have no secrets. I can see all your secrets. This is the problem. When I called you to quit sending me your catalogues it was because I didn’t want to keep finding you and your secrets on display when I open my mailbox. BAM! Barely dressed girl in my box! Catches me off-guard.

I’m so glad you quit sending me your magazine but quit sending me coupon/brochure books with nakedy-ish women on them. There is only woman half naked woman in this house and that’s me. There’s only one perfect body in this house…

And that’s you. That brings me back to my original point. Please quit sending me nakedy coupons for a free pair of nuetral cotton panties that I will only use while on my period. You wouldn’t wear those. Don’t lie to me.

And another thing, I hate going in there to get my free panties anyways because I have to stand in line with the woman in front of me who just bought 600 dollars worth of bras and then say, “Umm I was just wanting the free panties.” It makes me feel like an underwear homeless person.

Don’t get me wrong…I have really enjoyed a few pairs of these and I love free stuff as much as the next but if you told me to get a free t-shirt that you’d have to send a girl in a bikini to my house then I’d probably say no.

So dear Vicky, please leave my mailbox alone.

Sincerely,

Rebecca

April 9, 2009

I have a 5 yr. old little brother with high functioning autism. He LOVES sea creatures. Yesterday in chapel at his school, his principal got up on stage and said…”…We all know how Jesus died..” which was a rhetorical question. Sam yelled out, “The sharks got him!”

Classic.

Death by Cake April 27, 2009

I just finished a cake. I spent 4 hours on it yesterday and embarassingly, 12 hours on it today. People have no idea how much work goes into these things. They should be 20 dollars a slice. When people act like cakes like these are expensive I just want to say, “Oh, you must’ve been wanting a WalMart cake with an icing border and plastic figurine then because that is exactly what a 15 dollar cake looks like!” I also want to leave a cake on their front porch that has a big knife on it with the words “”Think again Batman!” but that’s far too threatening.

But anyways…

Everytime I make a cake I go through a process:

1-Feelings of enjoyment and other thoughts of a positive nature.
2-I come to the first fiasco of the cake. For this cake it was breaking a cake layer, two dog heads that kept falling off, and putting my finger in the icing when I put the completed cake into the fridge.
3- Pray that the Lord will let this cake turn out okay and that I can keep it together.
4- Feelings of it all falling apart and sensations of being overwhelmed and panicked like it will never be over. This is also followed by, “I will never do this again. Why do I keep doing this? Life is too short.”
5- A moment of seeing it come together.
6- A moment of relief.
7- Completion.
8- A prayer of thanks.

Inevitably, after a cake is done I will be really attracted to Lance. I’ll really want to be close to him. I was just explaining this phenomenom to him. It’s like I feel emotionally exhausted and physically tired and I need his love. It’s like I just survived this ordeal with him and I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. If Lance and I’s married is on the rocks…please someone, order a cake.

This is what insanity and me loving me husband looks like. It looks like it could maybe be simple but unbeleivably it will suck the very life out of your being.

The moral of this story is…if you order a cake, you better respect the crap out of it! It’s worth every penny you paid for it and typically worth even more than what you paid. You better recognize fool!

(DISCLAIMER: The buyer of this cake was amazing and was very pleased and paid me very well. This blog is an overall rage that I have gathered from an abundance of cake and silly people that want to pay 15 cents for a cake that took my life away for an entire weekend.)

Cake-a-liscious April 12, 2009

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Quote of the Week April 13, 2009

“To me, clowns aren’t funny. In fact, they’re kind of scary. I’ve wondered where this started and I think it goes back to the time I went to the circus, and a clown killed my dad.”

Be Careful With My Uterus April 14, 2009

I believe my fertility problems are in their final chapter. This Thursday the 16th I am going to have a surgery to see if I have endometriosis. This is the last possible test that I could have done and it’s either this or there is nothing wrong with me. The surgery is called lapraoscopy and I can’t WAIT to finally have an answer after all this time.

This journey to truth is going to start with an enjoyable colon cleanse starting on Wednesday. My doctor failed to mention that they are going to starve me the day before surgery and, not only deprive me of food, but empty any remaining remnants from my colon as well via constant pooping. Yippeee!!! I went today to buy the bottle of stuff I have to drink to make me “go” and it was only 1.88 so at the end of the day, I’m the winner. At least if they are going to make me poop all day, they made it a good bargain. Always love to save a good penny from the grocery store to me bum.

Anyways, I can’t eat from Tuesday night until Thursday afternoon so I’m going to totally look like Skeletor while I’m in surgery. Hope all the residents don’t notice when I’m butt naked on the table. Fingers crossed.

To put all minds at ease I will post the results of my reproductive findings as soon as I can remember too after all of the pain killers. It may be somewhat incoherent and while it might not educate you on my status, it may fill your faces with smiling. I’ll have my husband write a few boring sentences if nothing else.

Now I know before I go everyone wants to know what this surgery looks like:

They inflate your stomach with gas so they can move around all your junk. They go into your body several ways with cameras and laser and look for endo. If it’s there, they burn it off. Game over.

Now I’m sure you guys want to know what endometriosis looks like. There are 4 stages, one being the best, four the worst. Here’s a picture of a stage one and four:

Do you want to throw up? I sure do. The stage one picture shows little lesions called implants. Stage four shows the endometriosis going all wild style and putting the cobwebs of endo all over the place. If my uterus looks like Spiderman came and visited, I will be sad. Either way, the surgeon will remove it and make it like new.

NOOOOOOOWWWW, you are probably wondering what endometriosis is. Endometrium cells grow normally on the inside of your uterus lining which is what you shed during your period. Endometriosis is when these cells grow outside of your uterus. They bleed/shed no matter where they are which is one of the things that causes pain. If you have endo on the outside of your uterus or ovaries…the outside of your uterus and ovaries will bleed. You can have endo growing anywhere in your body in advanced stages. I know a girl who has it on her lungs. It really can grow anywhere. You can have a severe case with no symptoms at all or a very mild case with extreme symptoms. You can never tell. I would be in the little to know symptom category.

Endometriosis is one of the most common reasons for infertility and luckily, typically it’s very fixable. Doc said there’s a 75 percent chance statiscally that I have some stage of it and we will finally know for sure in a few measley days.

My doc also said that most women will be pregnant in 6 months or less. Six months sounds like a year to me at this point so I’m hoping and praying to be one of the lucky ones that get pregnant the very next cycle.

I’ll let you know how it goes. My blogs may be a little spotty the next week or so but we’ll see.

Pray for my surgery, uterus, and bottom.

Here goes nothing!!

Results April 17, 2009

I am on drugs so this is going to be simple.

I had to stay in stage 1 recovery for 3 1/2 hrs. instead of 30 mins because they were trying to get a hold of my pain and also because my heart rate was too high. I was supposed to leave Nashville at 12 and we didn’t get out until 430 but I’m glad its done. I wasn’t anxious at all.

Dr. said I have a significant amount of endo but I was not able to get the stage I was in. I have endo on my left ovary, back of my uterus, abdomen wall, and on my bladder. They found 3 polyps inside my uterus as well. She said endo was definetly the reason why I wasn’t getting pregnant. Polyps didn’t have anything to do with it really but she took them off anyways so they wouldn’t be a problem later.

Dr. said the surgery was great and she got all of it. Now I’m FINALLY like all the rest of you and for the first time in almost 2 years I can actually get pregnant. Praise the Lord.

I love oxycodone.

Pills, Poop, & Pondering April 20, 2009

I don’t understand addiction to pain pills. They are great if you are in pain but at the same time, I feel so spaced out and tired that I could scream. They make me feel awful and good. Also, did you know that they cause constipation? Oh, I sure do.

Last night was terrible! Two hours of screaming in pain on the toilet and all at the hands of dear old constipation. I mean I could not think straight I was hurting so bad. Who knew your bowels could be the devil? I sure am glad Lance loves me because it all came to an end when he ran to Houchens and bought an enema. And then, gave me one. These things are little miracles in squirt bottles. It takes a lot of love to do that for someone. Although it also takes a lot of love and desire to get your stomach cut open and your organs burned with lasers so that you can give you and your spouse a child. It’s worth it though and I did get good news…not complaining. Baby or not I got fixed and that’s superb.

However, sometimes when I’m sitting here paying my baby dues and I look at Lance I think, so let me get this straight: I have had tons of blood work, painstakingly tracked my every fertile day, had dye pushed through my cervix to check my tubes, had surgery to get checked out and fixed followed by a 1-2 week recovery…then I’ll hopefully get pregnant, carry a baby for 9 months, go through labor, and then try to get my body back for a year? And what did Lance have to do, have sex hundreds of times? Wait a second….something seems off.

It’s hard being a woman.

Quote of the Week April 20, 2009

“If you’re a horse, and someone gets on you, and falls off, and then gets right back on you, I think you should buck him off right away.”

Lance April 21, 2009

I always want to touch feet at night even though he is strongly opposed to feet touching him at all times. Sometimes at night he will slide his foot over to mine without saying a word and I go to sleep with a smile. It’s like hugging without your arms while sleeping. To me at least.

He lets me order him around when I’m sick and just when I think I’ve made one request too many, he’s already on his way to do it before I even have the chance to finish the thought. Even when I was sick for a week one time where I couldn’t speak and I had to clap at him to get his attention (cringe), he had the patience of Job.

He’s surprised me with flowers twice in the past 3 months.

He stands in the back of the shower and freezes so I can take a shower first.

He’s just enough of a woman to be a good man: cries when moved and shops with me for the house when necessary.

I would swear the house gets 10 times less spooky just having him around.

He folds clothes better than me and is slower to anger than me for sure.

Not often does he yell.

He’s grown to love animals AND cats as much as me just because of my love for them.

He’s always proud of me.

“I don’t feel like being around anybody…” only means everyone else but him.

He goes to work and I can’t wait for him to come home.

He woke up in the middle of the night this week while I was trying to get out of the bed after my surgery and cradled my back like a baby and helped me out of bed and to the bathroom.

I can’t get enough of his time.

He pursued me like crazy both when we dated and when we weren’t dating and he wanted me to be his. He will still pause every now and then and say, “I can’t believe I actually got you”, with the most precious awe in his voice and face.

I really miss him when he’s gone.

He tries to dress cute for our dates.

He’s mine and that’s really the best part.

Question April 23, 2009

If kankles are when you have no distinction between your calf and ankle, what do you call arms that have no disctinction between the forearms and the bicep? Cause I’m pretty sure I have that. Pretty sure like in a 100 percent sort of way. I vote friceps pronounced fry-ceps. Any other takers?

Quote of the Week April 28, 2009

“The first thing was, I learned to forgive myself. Then, I told myself, “Go ahead and do whatever you want, it’s okay by me.”

Love and Crackers April 30, 2009

When I was a little girl in the first grade, I use to rip off the name ‘Lance’ from Lance brand crackers packages and carry it around in my pocket. I don’t know why I did that then. Lance didn’t really even talk to me until I was in middleschool. I don’t think in the first grade you really notice guys that much but I must’ve noticed him. From 7 years old until 6th grade, that’s all I really remember about when Lance moved to Bowling Green and came to my church.

But then…I mean a BIG ‘but then’, I fell like crazy for him in 6th grade. I remember when Alanis Morisette’s song “Head Over Feet” came out, I would just ache to hear it on the radio so I could daydream about him. It got so bad that one night I actually called a friend of mine and, in all seriousness, asked her to sing it to me over the phone because I didn’t know the words to sing it myself and I loved the Lance butterflies it gave me. At this point of time he pretty much ignored me for the most part but I made sure I dressed up “cute” for youth group every Wednesday and I always tried to stand next to him during prayer so we could hold hands.

Years passed until the summer of my 8th grade year came. The youth group went on a church trip to Birmingham and this is where my love story of chasing after Lance finally became reciprocal. I remember with great detail arriving at the retreat and going and sitting a round table with my friends. The room was dimly lit and the carpet was burgundy. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lance start walking. Was he walking towards me? No way. He did pay attention to me on the ride down but never really much outside of that two hour trip. But, no matter how unreal it seemed, he was, in fact, walking over to me. My stomach dropped as he asked me if I would go outside and talk to him for a minute. That walk to the hotel sidewalk was the most exciting 20 feet I had ever walked.

He leaned up against the hotel wall that was white painted brick that had begun to chip. I sat on a short wall that had planted flowers in it and I held my breath because I couldn’t imagine what he wanted to say to me publicly muchless privately. Then he started,

“I just wanted to tell you that I think there is something different about you and I can’t get you off my mind. I just wanted you to know that I always know where you are in a room.”

I would say I was exhilarated but that would’ve been a gross understatement. I had told my mother 2 years earlier as a young, “I’m sure you’ll change your mind” little girl that I would marry him someday. 730 days later, I thought for the first time, “Oh my gosh, you might actually be right.”

I was soaring the rest of the trip. The night before we left he sang me a Garth Brooks song that he changed the lyrics of to make it about me and him. Cheesy? Perhaps, but that didn’t keep me from playing the first verse of that song over and over again on my discman the whole ride home. Also on the ride home you should know that he finally sat next to me on the bus like I had dreamed about for all those years. There was a pillow over our hands and our hands were touching but not holding because neither of us had the guts. It was a four hour ride home and he didn’t move the brave 4 centimeters to hold my hand until we pulled back into the church parking lot. When he did…fireworks! There is such a sweetness to a time where all you want to do is hold hands and it takes you all day to get the nerve to intertwine your fingers. I can still remember my whole body going to mush when he squeezed my hand.

We started dating that day and it lasted a whole 9 months until I gave the ole’ sweety the boot. But, to me, that’s where the story really gets good.

From the time we broke-up until the time we dated again was over three years and I was with another guy this whole time. This guy wasn’t the best in the world to me and I picked up a big emotional ticket for it but during this time, there was someone commited to me and it was Lance. For 3 years he hurt and missed me dearly…loved me dearly. He still brought me flowers, sung outside my window at night, and still always knew where I was in a room. Two and a half years into my relationship with the other guy and right before Lance went to college, he left me quite the farewell. One morning he called me very early and told me to go outside. I lazily opened the front door and stepped on a long stem rose. I ran back inside to get my contacts and ran back to my front door to see a trail of roses end to end. They went all the way into my yard and formed a big heart made of flowers and the inside of the heart was filled with rose petals. There was another trail of flowers leading from the heart all the way to my car where there was a ribbon tied rose with a letter on my windsheild. The letter told me he loved me and with that, he was gone to Jackson, TN. to start his college years. We still always talked but as expected and as he deserved, he finally moved on and dated a girl so beautiful. The kind of girl you worry about your ex-es dating. But then again, I deserved it and I did have a boyfriend. While Lance was with this girl, if you can believe this…he left my picture up in his room. A year into their relationship they broke-up and she told him, “Either you are going to date Rebecca again and marry her or date her again and realize she’s not the one but until then, you will never give anyone else a chance!” When Lance and I began dating again a short while later, she sent me an email, a sweet one, that said, “I just want you to know that you always had his heart”.

As all of this went on, I was at the point where I couldn’t take my old relationship. 6 months later I called it off and two weeks after that, I kissed Lance for the first time in 4 years and it was the single best kiss of my entire life hands down. He had always tried to kiss me EVERY time he saw me, boyfriend or not, and finally we did. Lance told me he loved me right away because even after all that time, he never stopped. One year later we were engaged and married the following year. Coming out of the last relationship I had I was so damaged, hurt, and anxious but God blessed with a man who had already proven to me that he could love me even when I didn’t love him. Not only that, he did so not as an adult but as a young, teenage boy who didn’t have to wait around for unrequited love. Loving him again was one of the easiest things I’ve ever had to do.

That year leading up to our wedding was so wonderful and so exciting. We bought our first little house and fixed it up and I loved every second of every minute of getting to that altar. On August 7, 2004, teary eyed I put on a dress and took the arm of another great man who walked me down the aisle to the person that it seemed like it took me a lifetime to get to. It was the most exciting 20 feet I’ll ever walk.

The Red House April 30, 2009

In a small town in, I think, one of the Carolina’s there are these two young guys who go around and film free commercials for people in their area. This is a real commercial that is aired. The guys asked the workers to tell them about their company and they said that they have alot of black and white customers. Naturally this commercial only makes sense.

Happy Mother’s Day Cake May 4, 2009

Here is my latest cake…my first attempt at making a person. The person who ordered the cake wanted a “shopping” theme because that’s what her mother loves to do. DAV is her favorite store. She also wanted books on the cake because she’s an avid reader so this is what she got! I’m not taking anymore orders until July and I’m pretty happy to have a break! All of the figures are gumpaste. Edible but not delectable.

Post-Op Bo Bop May 4, 2009

I had my post-op Friday and it was divine. My stitches are gone and realved a newly formed belly button beneath. This was totally fine by me because my belly button was weird to begin with. I’m not totally sure but I think I’ve decided this is an upgrade. When I was kid I use to stick small broken pieces of spaghetti noodles in my belly button to push over this fold of skin that I thought looked weird. I have a feeling these stitches are going to leave me with more of a long term result that couldn’t be obtained with pasta. So…yay me.

The doc answered a lot of questions for me and showed me some more pictures of my baby factory. She said we could start trying that night which was a big hooray for us. This nurse at the center had told me a week earlier that we couldn’t until next month. I believe we call that sabatoge!!!

Needless to say we followed doctors orders….

Basically the appointment was short and sweet and she told me to call her in 3-4 months if I hadn’t gotten pregnant yet. I’m so glad the wondering is over. I’m a little nervous about trying again just because I hate the disappointment train but I’m trying to keep a good balance between hope, reality, and acceptance for whatever will be.

No matter what happens, I still got a free belly button. Surgery that cleared up my endo and a free complimentary navel on tha’ side! It should be on the hospital value menu.

In My Head May 6, 2009

Why does Oprah always try to sing along with the singers on her show when it’s obvious that she doesn’t know the words? She does realize that there are video cameras there, right?

Why don’t penguin’s feet freeze to the ice? They get wet and still don’t freeze to the ice.

Oprah always interuppts or cuts off the people on her show….does she realize that? Have you noticed?

Don’t ever get a black car. They look great when they are clean but that only lasts two seconds and why would you want a car that requires extra and constant care to keep it clean looking when you could get another color? Plus, bird poop cooks on black ten times faster and eats holes through your paint.

Has anyone realized that Lady GaGa is kind of like a more revelant Spice Girl who is doing a solo act?

The person who discovers a cure for cellulite will become one of the richest people ever recorded in history.

Who keeps stealing my recycling bin? It disappeared one day and then came back on my porch the next week. Then someone took it again this week.

Why do millions of people have infertility today but pilgrims and stuff could have 13 kids a pop?

The most used bathroom stalls in a public restroom is the first stall on the right. Typically, people will go to the right when doing something directionally.

Why are jeans SO hard to find?

I saw a pair of styrup pants in the store yesterday.

Why does ankle hair grow at ten times the rate of thigh hair?

Why do I always go into the stinkiest stall in a public restroom when I’m intentionally trying to avoid it?

Dancing, singing, and playing with children can make a man 48 times more attractive.

If Lance doesn’t stop twittering I’m going to beat him up. Maybe he should start dancing or singing.

Ovaries look like small white brains or califlower.

Cocker spaniels are so freakin’ cute and nobody ever has one.

It’s really funny to take a credit card and slide it through someone’s butt crack and say “Beep” or “Approved”.

Wishing for Words May 11, 2009

This just in: men and women are totally different. Lance’s needs are totally different than mine. A lot of his needs are those that a mother fulfills which is totally barfy, but I will accept it. You know what I mean, cleaning, giving him schedule reminders, telling him to pluck his eyebrows….standard things. Emotionally he just needs to see me and be with me in the house. Also, he needs the russian bed dance which we can not fail to mention if we are trying to avoid any elephants in the blog room.

But me? I ,ultimately, need a connection with him every day. Of course with our busy lives, it’s hard to get that in on a daily basis. I can spend all day with him on the couch watching TV and then when our show is over he’ll be ready to hit the hay. I’m like….”Wait…let’s talk….let’s play Yahtzee…let’s SOMETHING!” Really all I’m wanting is to be his focus and to feel like we bonded or shared some sort of verbal intimacy for the day.

When you think about girls growing up and compare it boys growing up, it all makes sense. How do girls form friendships? We talk, we share, we sympathize, we make ourselves vunerable to each other. What makes two girls classify themselves as best friends? Two things: the frequency of which we do the above things I just listed and the sharing of personal secrets which creates vunerability which builds trust which equals the announcement that a girl prizes: “You are my best friend!” There is so much pride in that statement for girls. Especially young girls.

Boys on the other hand bond in ways that we don’t. A lot of their friendships are built in common interest and frequency of time spent together. Boys don’t have to tell each other things that require a pinky promise to feel close to each other. They grow up their whole life not being especially vunerable to each other and their communication is very, very different than ours. Their friendship is more in presence and similarity, not in deep emotional sharing. That isn’t a requirement for their closeness. They don’t need to “talk things out” or tell their friend that they are more handsome then their ex’s new boyfriend. No, the more they are together with similar interests/personality, the more likely they are to give a best friend title to each other. But only in their minds, of course. Boys don’t take each other aside and say, “You are my best friend”…that’s a girls way of bonding.

And herein lies our problem. Lance or (enter your own spouse’s name) can sit next to me totally absorbed in a book or on the computer and feel like we spent time together. I, on the other hand, wish he would stop and say, “We are best friends forever”. When you are new in a relationship it is easier to have this effect lessened because you are riding the number 9 cloud so hard that all you want to do is speak emotionally to each other: “I missed you today.” “You are so beautfiul.” You know, whatever….

But then you come to a point where you still feel that way but because of our lives, routine, and schedules, we don’t have the time, energy, or whatever it is to put the time it takes into really connecting with each other. In time, once comfort sets in, we all revert back to our instincts of communication. And for Lance, that’s being fine with us both watching our favorite show and for me, that’s wishing he would just tell me a secret.

There are times though, just like this week, where I nag him to put down the book, magazine, newspaper, laptop, cellphone and I turn off the TV or quit trying to pick-up that last thing that fell into the mysterious stack on the countertop that never seems to disappear and then it’s silence, it’s just us. I’m dying to just have a conversation and then sitting in our quiet house, there is NOTHING TO SAY! I guess no matter how much you love your spouse, when you live every single day of your life together, there are no new stories, no surprises and a lot of “what happenened today” isn’t intriguing even to the one who is telling the story. This phenomenon is no one’s fault and it happens to the best and worst marriages alike. I’m the one yearning to have a real conversations with him and I’m like…ummm…Bonkers had a hairball today…

So how do we find that intimacy with our spouses that we as women need to connect? As I sit here watching the cursor flash at me waiting for the next word…I have no idea. Today, I’ll settle for a close second.

Anyone have any good secrets?

Quote of the Week May 7, 2009

Sometimes I wish Marta was more loyal to me. Like the other day. The car parked next to ours had real dirty windsheild, so I wrote THIS CAR LOOKS LIKE A FART in the dirt. Later I asked Marta if she thought it was a childish thing to do. She said, “Well, maybe.” Man, whose side is she on anyway?

And they called it kitty love… May 11, 2009

About ten times a week I point to my cat and say to Lance, “Do you know what this is?”

“What?”

“A good man.”

Or I say, “Do you know what this is?”

“What?”

“A good poosie cat.”

Poosie cat is less offensive than…you know….

I asked Lance if all of this talk about my cat made him feel jealous. I do afterall describe Bonkers as being a really good man.

I can’t help it though. Bonkers is handsome and strong. He’s affectionate and independent. He’s athletic. He eats really scary spiders and kept mice out of my house all winter (with the help of really great woman: Skittles). He purrs instead of scratching when the vet sticks a thermometer up his behind. He’s patient and loves me even when I don’t give him what he wants. He makes me laugh and I miss him when he’s gone. He watches out for his sister and he works real hard at cleaning his privates.

Could he be the perfect man?

TMI August 26, 2009

What exactly is too much information?  It drives me Bah-nanas when people act like silly comments are TMI. Example:  Tonight someone was talking about their hairy legs and I said, “You haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen the likes of these (pointing to my pits) or the likes of these (pointing to my legs). That comment is honest and funny simultaneously so double good. The people standing there didn’t see how wonderful of a comment that was.  They acted sheepish and laughed uncomfortably like I just mooned them or something.

I have a tendency to say things like that and it surprises people.  Not to be left out, it surprises me back that it surprises them.  I don’t say vulgar or inappropriate things, just things that usually you only tell close friends but I say them in front of people who aren’t close friends.  But here’s the deal, if it’s not vulgar or offensive when I say it to someone I know, the content or appropriateness of what I’m saying doesn’t change just because I said it to someone I don’t know as well.    Does that make sense?  Basically, if it’s not inappropriate for my friends, it’s not inappropriate and if it’s my personal info that I’m choosing to share then it should be fine for me to say it to anyone if I feel comfortable.  Sure people can be offended by statements like, “I’m having the worst period today” but I will never get why.  You are NEVER going to make me uncomfortable by being human in front of me.  Just  as long as you don’t say it while people are eating or at a job interview.  I mean you can’t be a total idiot.  Assuming you’ll use some discretion, I don’t think it should matter. 

Here’s the deal,  if I’m with my friends and some  of their buddies that I don’t that well, I may just talk to them like I would a friend I’ve known for some time.  They could say I was weird but I’m just saying the same things they say to their friends when they are alone.  The only thing that keeps people from being more transparent with people like that is fear that they will be judged or looked at as weird.  I think of it as just being more your true self right off the bat instead of waiting until you know each other “x” amount of time before you say what you are only supposed to say to your best buddies.  You will get to see me and my personality right away rather than having to wait out this weird imposed social norm of how long you should know someone until you are totally yourself. 

Go ahead!  Tell your new acquaintance in the office that you wanted to punch your husband in the head last night.  People will like your humor and be drawn to your sincerity.  If you feel like sharing personal information, just do it.  I pretty much told my entire office overtime that I was struggling through infertility.  Sure that info is “personal” and you don’t have to share it but I gained so much support by wearing my heart on my sleeve.  It was so wonderful to announce my pregnancy today at a business meeting and have everyone applaud and be so delighted for me.  I like the pay off of baring your soul to people.  While it can be a risk, it can be so rewarding.  Don’t let some illogical social rule determine if you will be confident to be yourself and say what you want to people. 

Let’s work this through:

Why did someone think it was so surprising for me to say that I have hairy legs?  The reason to them might be because “You just don’t say those things!”  Okay…says who?  Says “I don’t know that just how we do it”?  That is never a good enough answer to me.  They are my hairy legs and if I want to joke about them publicly then laugh on Beckycat!  That same person would tell their spouse or friend that they had hairy legs.  Was it crazy then?  Nope.  They are just fine with it.  Why?  Because it’s okay to talk about having hairy legs they just aren’t comfortable enough or sometimes, confident enough, to do it in front of others because of what they might think.   So it’s not really about appropriateness.  It’s about whether or not you feel comfortable.  BOOM.  Busted.  That’s not me and not enough reason for me not to make you laugh and free you with the sincerity of my true colors.  I find that a lot of people like my funny frankness and are comfortable with me doing it, just as long as it’s not them.   That just lets me know that it’s really okay and people not only don’t mind it, they enjoy watching the humorous interactions of someone being that uninhibited.  It just comes down to whether or not you’re comfortable enough to speak things as they come to you.  It’s not so much about what’s “appropriate” according to the invisible social norm that came from who knows where that everyone lives by.  If you don’t want to tell me after knowing me a short while that your underwear is riding up then that’s okay.   Just don’t avoid telling me because you are insecure of what I might think.  And for the record, my legs are hairy tonight and it feels like someone stuck knives in my chest because of my tadpole baby growing inside of me.  Whew, that feels good! Goodnight!

Check it May 13, 2009

3 websites you have to check out:

Pandora.com- This is internet radio for free. Not radio where they play Lady GaGa or Taylor Swift every other song in between thirty commerncials but commercial free music that YOU can personalize. What you do is type in an artist, song title, or genre and they create a “station” for you. You can create as many stations as you want. What they do is play other artists or similar songs to what you typed in so it’s the perfect station. I do this while I work and just let it run in the background. Love it. Give her a looksie.

Failblog.org- If you like giggling and joy then you like failblog. This site is made up of images of real-life things people have seen and sent in. Stupid things…kind of like the misprinted advertisements that people send into Jay Leno to read on his show. It’s really funny and a mindless type of blog to enjoy. Unlike this deep analytical piece I’m typing rightnow. Here’s a sample:

see more pwn and owned pictures

see more pwn and owned pictures<

You can select “show me only G-rated photos and videos” to avoid any trauma. The site isn’t intended to be bad, it’s just that random people can submit and every now and then you get a rascal or two.

Cakewrecks.com- As a cake decorator, I find comfort in this blog at times. This is a professional site where people send in terrible cake disasters of cakes they paid for. Sometimes there are regular pictures but 90 percent are all cake gone wrong with funny blurbs about them. Sometimes they show you a picture of what the cake was supposed to look like and then what they people got. I hope and pray I never make this site. This is, however, what I’m up against:

Letter To My Mother May 15, 2009

July 31, 2004

Dear Mother,

You have always been faithful to be present and supportive in all the events of our lives, and as I stand here on the eve of my wedding day, it is still no different. I’m thankful for the blessing of wonderful parents who started me on the right path so that I can stand before Lance in a few days as a woman who is ready to love and share a life with another person. Many traits in me that Lance and our future children will love have all been gifts from you. I thank you for all of the things that you have instilled in me that have allowed me to be who I am today.

Just remember as my life changes that, in your words when your father passed, “We always need our parents.” I hope that you can look at this transition as a time where you can teach me new things about life and, eventually, motherhood as I open a new chapter. I thank God that He gave me a mother like you who taught me as a chlid to follow Him which has allowed me to be thankful for my past and hopeful for my new future ahead. I love you very much.

Your Daughter,

Rebecca

Love Learned May 18, 2009

My mother always made our lives something to celebrate. Every year she would go to the store and buy a cake mix and make us a special cake that had something to do with our lives or what we loved at the time. I’m sure this is where I started thinking that cakes were really interesting & exciting. Here are a few….

| View Show | Create Your Own

Worst Advice May 20, 2009

It’s hard to know what to say to someone who is unsuccessfully trying to have a baby. All of the below things are said by sweet people who mean well and in the words of Tupac, “I ain’t made at cha’”. But  let me help you out.  Don’t say this:

1- You need to quit worrying about it.

This makes me so frustrated that it makes me want to give YOU something not worry about. (Deep breath, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1)

And we’re back. For starters, there is no scientific evidence or otherwise that states that worry throws your cycle off. If that was the case then no one would ever get pregnant EVER because day to day the average person is worrying about something. If worry keeps your body from ovulating then it would almost never happen for any woman. It’s not like your egg goes to release and then thinks, “Wait, was that a regular worry thought or a baby worry thought?!? I can’t decide if I’m supposed to go!!!!”

PLEASE People!!! My gyno says only major life stressors (family member dying, etc.) have the ability to throw your cycle. If worry kept you from conception then no person who has ever had fertility issues would concieve. Can I get an amen from my fellow barren sisters?! Thank you, think I heard one from the blog in the back.

2- Just adopt a baby and then you’ll get pregnant.

Okay, okay a lot of people have told me this advice, as well as all these others. I know it’s all in good fun. No one is actually saying that I should adopt as a magic recipe to get pregnant. However, this phrase becomes kind of like any cliche someone may hear when pregnant. An example for someone who is pregnant with their 2nd plus child, “You know what causes that, right?” It becomes one of those things that you have to generically smile and laugh at.

As a sister of adopted siblilngs, I don’t know how to respond to that anyways. I usually just say something heart felt like, “Yeah I’ve heard of that” or “That’s what they say”.

Here are the facts people, that happens 12.5 percent or LESS of the time which is the actual statistic. Do you know what those odds are? Worse odds than what a couple has of  getting pregnant every month on their own which is 20 percent every month. Just as many infertile couples conceive after deciding to live a child-free life as they do when they adopt.  People think that happens all the time because you only hear the good news. You aren’t hearing about all the thousands times it doesn’t happen which means it seems more frequent because the good is the only thing actually being reported. I can accept that comment as a space filler but this comment gets old super fast.   This coming from someone who has plans to adopt regardless.

3- Well it took my friend 15 years to have a baby and then she did at 65. (Insert other similar stories)

Really?! Only 15 years? Well ring the bells and hallelujah consider me comforted!!! I understand the point of this story is to give comfort that, even when it seems like it’s not going happen, it can. And while that’s very true, it tends to make you feel worse. You don’t want to tell someone exhausted from the journey of infertility, a journey that makes weeks feel like years, that in just 8 plus short years this could be over for you!. What you need is to just take it a day at a time and not focus on possibilities but just get to place where you can accept where you are. Telling someone extreme stories like that is like telling someone with a diease, “My aunt had the same diease for 20 years and then they cut all her legs off and one thumb and now she is better!”  You don’t know if you should be encouraged or just look at your legs and thumb and hold on to them for dear life!  It’s the same with the baby stories.  Feel me?

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Small Town May 19, 2009

I drove to a restaurant in a small little town out on the outer edges my hometown. On the square there was a salon and it was called, “Curl Up and Dye”.

Awesome.

Hometown September 1, 2009

Sixteen and one month old. Sun tan and a milkshake. Sunshine and wind blowing between the smattering laughter amongst the beats of a song played too loudly. No where to go. No where to be. Just sixteen for the day and what felt like forever.

Songs filled my ears, the heart throb that was the heart ache filled my every thought. Freedom and being stuck simulataneously.

Every tree, car, shirt had a memory attached to it.  Still do.  When it was all done, it took me years to get use to driving around this town without the distraction of all the stories that came with it.  After we broke-up it took years for a tree to be a tree and sidewalks to a place for walking and not some where we had been together.

Hundreds of carefree kids standing aimlessly in a dark field.  Me and a six pack….of Mountain Dew.  One, two, three…too many kids in a car.  Coming in late, sleeping until 2 the next day.  Laughing, crying, loving the life of day after day floating freely and sincerely.

Red van, white suv, red jeep, white Camry caught my eye every time one went down the street.  They carried some of the most memorable people to me to and from the school that was our life for 4 years.

Driveways covered in chalk in the middle of the night by sneaky girls.  Cops at your door when your parents went out of town.

Silver pom poms, yucky spandex, nervous stomach, a blast everytime.

I can drive your streets with my eyes closed and they can take me in any direction to people that I love.

People let you over in traffic.  You smile at strangers and ask every one how they are doing.

Safe neighborhood streets, paths taken for candy on late, chilly Halloween nights, pond with a Willow tree, the perfect place for late night walks.  Trees by the creek with my name carved in.

The place I never wanted to leave that welcomed me right back.  Keeper of friends, family, and stories.

A short drive to anywhere you want to go.  Big enough to please, small enough to be home.  Big enough to be lost, small enough to be found.  Charming comfort where life was really lived.  There’s no place like home.

The Walk & The Thing May 21, 2009

I hate being married today.

There are probably more euphemistic ways of saying that but I’d only be doing that to be socially acceptable which is pleasing no real person but adhereing to an idea of being appropriate.  Did I offend you?  Get married and get back to me.  I think as a pastor’s wife I’m not supposed to say that but I hate that too because christians AND non-christians feel this way at times and that’s normal.  I’m not saying it’s great but I’m saying we are messy people and it’s normal and somebody should be talking about it in real terms.  So I’m saying it Mr. World, in unmistakable words which means they sound verbatim like the same thoughts you have in your head… the ugly, blunt ones that you fluff up before you say them out loud. 

Why am I mad?  Why do I hate marriage’s guts?  I hate it because every long-term relationship of any kind has it’s “thing”:  the conversation that just won’t quit that you are tired of having,  the thing that you’ve rephrased a million times that they don’t understand,  the thing they should get but they don’t,  the situation that keeps reoccuring like groundhog day wether it’s something more serious or just the freakin’ pair of socks that are daily left somewhere in your house like a dang sock easter hunt.  Believe it or not, socks are not what I’m mad about today which is surprising based upon the expressive emotion I just gave to the example.

I’m mad about our real thing.  The thing that is the root of all things in our marriage thing.  And to make it worse, doesn’t your “thing” always seem to glare it’s ugly grin at you before company comes over?  Faking your way through a dinner is THE WORST!  And, I’m no good faker.  That’s one of the reasons I hate to be told jokes.  I’m going to want to laugh at you really bad because I don’t want to hurt your feelings but I’m really not good at faking laughter.  Unless of course I can turn it around to be secretly laughing at how awkward your joke was and laugh at that instead of your actual joke.  This is besides the point though…

I’m about ten minutes away from going on “the walk” to talk about this stupid thing that I’m so over.  The walk was even my idea because I have to “talk it out” or I won’t “talk to him pleasantly” for a few hours if not a day or two.  I’m forcing myself to be a big kid and take this walk that I’ve been walking for years now.  If you could walk a mile in these shoes you’d say…ummmmmm….nothing because you’d walk off a bridge and it’d be over.  I sure hope you weren’t thinking of the “thing” on your way down poor shoes.

It’s 1o:3o pm on May 20th 2009.  Here goes walk number 436.

Rebecca’s Life Lessons That You Better Write Down June 4, 2009

If you have a nice car, park next to other nice cars that won’t dink your door with theirs.  Don’t park next to an old junky car.  Those cars have nothing left to lose.

If you want to keep your back yard nice, avoid the following: chain link fences, mulitiple toys in the yard, multi-color swing sets, & objects that are the same length/width of your house such as a boat in the driveway, trampolines, and, of course, above ground pools. 

If you insist on taking baths then take a shower first and then a bath.  If you just jump right in the tub, your nasty will float around and you’ll just splash it all over you and become imaginary clean.

If someone catches you singing a song in your car at an intersection and you’re doing hand gestures and the whole 9, I think it’s best to just go ahead and finish the song.

Never let one go in public, discreetly or otherwise.  I’ve come to learn that as soon as you do, someone WILL come around you.  It’s almost like it beckons them.

No matter what the ad says, don’t sign up for a free gift card to a place in exchange for watching a demo at your house.  It will just end with a guy in your house hassling you  to buy something.  Then they will get mad when you say no and they’ll slam up their breifcase like a little baby and give you the silent treatment in your own house.  Then you’ll say, ”I’m sorry  Roy Flowers I just don’t think this water filter is a necessity.” Then he’ll yell at you like you just insulted the Queen and say, “It is for my family!”   And then he’ll just walk away and never mail you your gift card. 

If you are looking for new ways to devalue your vehicle, put a bumper sticker on it. 

If someone lets you pull out in front of them or stops so that you can turn across traffic, you better give the courtesy wave.  You just better.

Never break in a curve. 

Don’t shave anything that you don’t want to shave for the rest of your life.

This is a good one.  If you can’t remember someone’s name and you need to do an introduction, look at the person you are with and say this is my (insert relationship).  Don’t say anything else.  Once you’ve said that then the person you are with is in the position to make their own introduction and say, “Hi, I’m Charley”.  Charley sticks out his hand to give a great handshake and what happens next?  The person you can’t remember the name will introduce themselves to your person, thus giving you their name.  Then you can use it for the rest of the conversation as if you knew it all along.

Don’t tan very much.  It’s great to look good when you’re young but you’ll spend a lot more time being old.  When you’re old, you’ll need a lot more help than you needed when you were 16 so go ahead and do something for future you.

Get your act together and figure out a good handshake.  Not so much a handshake routine between friends but a real, firm, I’m no noodle handed girl so you better hire me for this job handshake.  If I were a boss and a girl came in for a job interview and gave me one of those handshakes where they bend their hand and only give you their fingers to shake, then I would say “You are fired” and she would know to just turn around and leave.

Teach these to your children.

Diary 02 June 2, 2009

I am a person who wears her heart and everything that entails on her sleeve.  Being so full of feeling can, as all things, be a blessing and curse.  I’m really sensitive but I’m also really empathetic and sympathetic.  I could sit down with the biggest butthead and still find some way to relate to them and feel their pain.  Usually it’s the pain that helped them be a butthead.  I could sit down beside a lizard that has a scratch on its back and feel really bad for it. 

Another example of my heart sleeves, I love to feel every detail of all things feelable.  It’s my favorite.  How does this show itself?  Probably in 565 blogs about memories.  If you notice, I love to reflect about things in life that stirred up my already freshly stirred heart.  Divorce, marriage, infertility, relationships, good times with buddies, you know…the standards. 

Since I love reflecting, I’m sentimental.  Since I’m sentimental, I have a deep appreciation for all of the things and people that make up my life.  I love living and experiencing the gammit of what that does on my old ticker. 

When I think about my life, especially the teenage years, young love always plays on my heart and the thrilling firsts you go through during those years: getting your braces off and feelin’ all stunning with your pearly whites, first date, first car, first dance, etc.

My writing well feels empty at the  moment so I pulled out the old diary and apparently, the longing I have for emotionally engaging situations apparently has been around for a long time.

August 9, 2002 (2 years till Lance and I married)

12:05 am

On the ride home I was thinking a lot about falling in love for the first time.  There are the nights where you go out nervous stomached wondering if you’ll see “that guy”.  The first kiss.  Oh, it makes me smile!  Falling in love is such an adventerous rush.  Break-ups and all.  Even though if I could go back I wouldn’t date around, I’d like to do the “firsts” all over again.  There is nothing like the first kiss whether it’s literally the first or the first one with a new person.

I love Lance so much and I’m not wishing things were different but even still with him I wish I could do it all over again.  For example, the first time we kissed again at Covington Woods, wait a second, Keriakis first, then Covington.  I just remember Covington more.  There were few things better than that night.

Just like that night, one thing I’ve always been good at is knowing the moments.  Sometimes people don’t realize when the best day or moments in their lives are happening.  I’ve always been good at seeing those moments for what they are and savoring them.  I’ll always look around and take a deep breath and think, “Look around because the next time you see this will be in your memory when your are thinking about what an amazing day this was.”  I just hope my children will remember those moments as they pass.  I hope they know that some of the best things in life only happen once.

So maybe all of this stuff plays into my fear of getting “use” to someone in a relationship.  I think it’s my biggest fear about marriage.  Few things compare to the sensation you get the first time he holds your hand or kisses you.  I’d hate to think of never feeling this way again just because it’s the same hand I’m still grabbing.

What is it about time that makes lips just a part of the body when it use to the thing you waiting all night for?  It’s funny to me that people will say that they can’t wait to wake up next their future spouse everyday but then grant them their wish and the other body in the bed becomes something you bump into as you roll over to dream about the next thing to wish for.

How can time and routine kill passion? Time is irrelevant to love.

NYC June 11, 2009

Posting this from NYC because the stupid thing didn’t post for me like it was supposed to.  Dumb.

Three days ago, Lance and I decided that we would leave for the big apple…today. This is against everything in my nature that desires to plan, dream, organize, dream, and pack.  And save.

Nonetheless, I’m being a big girl and jumping on an airplane (which I don’t like doing anymore) and we are flying to a well needed vacation amongst smog and smelly subways.

Once we arrive, we don’t have much extra funds to actually survive while we are there but hey, who cares right? Me, my anxiety is screaming at me to care and I say, “You better just shut that stupid mouth!” 

I got our hotel off of priceline and I was thinking, “Hmmmm, will someone accept a bid for a 3 star hotel right outside of Times Square for 50 dollars…” Okay I’m exaggerating but it does sound good to me. I spent so many hours searching for hotels for this trip that I was becoming pre-menstral without being pre-menstral. Lance always seems to think that he can do things better than me even though he does the exact same things I do so he said, “Give me the computer I’ll do it.”

I had no faith in him, it’s true. What could he do that I couldn’t type into a search engine myself? After 10 minutes of hearing nothing from his office I went in to see what he had found. I said, “What are you doing Lance?”

“I typed in free hotels in New York to see what I could find.”

Oh brother. I hope whatever skill set he used to think that he could find a free hotel in New York, are not the skill sets he will be using to protect me and navigate us through NYC.

I ended up booking us a hotel two nights ago and it looks nice from this end of the world, on this laptop.  I think it will be pretty good. 

Got tickets to blue man group and Taste of Time Square will be the first thing we do when we arrive.  That’s all I know.  I’m just happy to be somewhere with Lance where our phones can’t ring and we don’t have appointments to keep and dinners to make.  That last one applying to me of course.  I always look forward to a week of someone else cooking for me!  Whoot whoot.

I’m so excited!  Please refrain from all jealousy. 

Can’t wait to blog when I’m back because I’m-a sure I’ll have-a lots-a to say.  I will be posting a slideshow on here too so all of you who have never seen what Lance and I look like will need to brace yourself for extreme eye candy.  Start preparing yourselves now.

Not Acceptable! June 15, 2009

I was looking on Southwest.com before my trip to see how big my carry-on bag could be and this is what I found.  Just so you know, these items can’t be packed into your carry-on bags.  I’m sure there are a lot of disappointed people after reading this.  What else is there to do on a flight these days but play with your sword?  Airlines are so uptight. Item	Carry-on	Checked
Box Cutters	No	Yes
Ice Axes/Ice Picks	No	Yes
Knives – except for plastic or round bladed butter knives	No	Yes
Meat Cleavers	No	Yes
Razor-Type Blades – such as box cutters, utility knives, razor blades not in a cartridge, but excluding safety razors.	No	Yes
Sabers	No	Yes
Scissors – metal with pointed tips and blades shorter than four inches	Yes	Yes
Swords	No	Yes

 

Whew, glad I can still bring my butter knife.

Big Apple Slide June 14, 2009

1969 June 30, 2009

My dad has told me this one particular story many times. The first time he told it to me was simply because it came up. The other times are because I bring it up from time to time.

When my dad was in college he was a shy, quiet boy from a small town in Kentucky where Abraham Lincoln’s birth place was the town’s claim to fame. If Abraham Lincoln and my dad had lived at the same time, they would have pratically been neighbors. In this little town, despite growing up extremely poor, he was able to go to college and put himself through school. My dad, not Abe Lincoln.

One year in 1969 when it was time for his university’s Homecoming, he didn’t have enough nerve to ask a girl to go with him or the money, for that matter, even if he had the guts. So, he worked really hard and spent a whole months pay check on a brand new coat and he went and sat in the football stands alone. He’s told me a million times that it was no big deal and that then, people would go alone to things like that. No matter how many times he tells me that I either choke up or all out cry when I think of my sweet daddy sitting by himself in that brand new coat.

Somewhere soon after that night, a beautiful young stranger would walk onto his elevator in the campus parking structure, the future mother of his four children. And for once, he wasn’t afraid to ask.

35 years later I sat on that same campus taking this joke of a class with a sweet hippie professor. One night, instead of a lecture, she had us all go out to the lawn to have us spend the hour writing about whatever we wanted. I sat there for a second trying to decide if I should just act like I was writing. Maybe make-up some sort of bull crap to simply finish the assignment? Decisions, decisions… As my mind drifted I looked up and there in front of the sunset sat the very stadium my dad sat in all those years ago. The way it’s built you can see all the stands and I just stared at them and pictured him sitting there that night. I thought to myself that on that Homecoming he sat there alone having no idea that three decades later he would have 3 daughters and one son, all of which would graduate from that same university. No idea that his baby would be sitting there picturing him sitting in that very spot. I could see him there in my mind and I imagined what he was thinking that night. I wondered what he thought his life would be like the next 5, 10, 15 years. I wasn’t even a glimmer in his eye then and something about that thought puts me in awe.  Maybe because I can’t picture not being around.  I”m very much here but then, I wasn’t even a passing thought in his mind. You truly never know where life will take you.

Amazingly, that night on Western’s campus in 69, my dad wasn’t waiting for his ship to come in. He simply was where he was and fine to be there. There are two things that baffle me about that story. One, thinking of how much he had in store and how little of a clue he had about it all. Two, that he was fine to sit alone and live his life without counting the days away until he was the new and improved Michael because of some life change. We all need a bit of that in ourselves. A good mix of those two things: knowing that there is so much in store but content to enjoy what was in store for you for that moment.

Often we find ourselves in the opposite place as my dad was that night, sitting by ourselves waiting for something or someone to show up. Ready for that next big thing or stage. Very, very rarely do we bloom where we are planted.

Single people want marriage. Married people sometimes want to be single. Women want to be moms and for every woman dying to have a baby, there are 20 more watching in envy as the childless get in and out of store before they get their last child out of their carseat. We are a very discontented people.

When I first married I went through about a year of feeling like there was nothing good or exhilarating to experience in life. Nothing could surprise me because, hey…look at the facts: bought my first house, graduated college, had my first love, first kiss, first car etc…and that was years ago. Gotten engaged, had a wedding, and, consequently, had a husband. What was there left to do other than have kids and watch them relive all of the fun that wasn’t left for me to have any longer? Seemed so logical. However, as I was on my honeymoon, I had no, absolutley NO way of knowing that a little boy was born to a mother in the projects who couldn’t take care of him and that 6 months later via adoption, he’d become my little brother.

My point is this, we get so confident in the day to day that we almost become arrogant that we know tomorrow, we know what to expect. In all reality, we can’t know tomorrow because we don’t even know the possibilities. We don’t have the tools to forsee the possibilities of our future and it’s just a joke to say or act like we do. My father sat alone in that nice, new jacket and he wouldn’t have been able to tell you shortly after it would be on an elevator ride that his life would change. He could’ve thought, I will never meet anyone. I know all the girls in my classes. I know everyone at work. Where is it going to happen?! That’s what our daily logic tells us and hey, it does make sense for all we know. “All we know” being the key words there. We know there are moments that change our lives: children, death, and so on. What we don’t know is that change can come at any day. Even in a parking structure.

So for today, what we need is a dose of satisfaction for where we are and patience for what is to come. If you are student longing for graduation, you were never a student. If you are a single person consumed by finding a spouse then you never have the blessing of what singledom can give you. If you are a woman waiting on a baby, you forget to appreciate running into a store for 30 seconds to buy a pack of gum without a ten minute gymnastics routine of the carseat dance. Honestly, we spend so much of our time chasing after the next stage that we never really live in any of them. One of my favorite quotes is, “Enjoy yourself. These are the good ole’ days you are going to miss in the years to come.” We are always in the midst of something miss-able.

So you, well you are just like me. You are probably fine with today, hoping for something greater, and at times, dreaming of how things use to be. What we really need to do is realize that today you are in the middle of something you onced hoped for. Forget your assumptions about what your future holds and embrace the joys of a day that started with the same old alarm clock that woke you up to the blessings of your present.  Pour that last dollar into that new jacket, sit with a smile, and enjoy the view.  You may be just one elevator ride from never seeing it the same way again.

Calling All Parents June 24, 2009

Okay, okay you got me. I have nothin’ to say this week. I do have a question though for all of you parents out there.

What did you take for granted about your life before kids?

If you could go back to the time before you had kids and live that part of your adulthood again, what you would do differently in light of knowing how having kids changes your life?

Are You? June 24, 2009

June 26, 2009

When I have a baby I’m sure there will be tons to write about.  You know about how I’m tired and crazy, how happy I am, how funny my baby is, the stupid things I did, how I love being a mom, how I feel like I can’t handle motherhood, and so on and so on.  But today my life is a little run of mill.  Good, but mill running.

I could tell you that last night I went on a blind date with my powerwasher.  We had never met.  For one hour we got to know each other before I learned enough about him to actually start the date.  Once we began, I cleaned cement, walls, steps, and random things I sprayed to see what would happen.  We fell in love and then I left him in the garage all night and told him I’d look forward to hanging out tomorrow. I’m ashamed to tell you that I accidently killed a bug with my powerwasher.  It must’ve been a terrible way to die.  He was so innocent.  He didn’t even need cleaning.

The day before I murdered innocent life I got chewed out by a client’s mom via voicemail & passive aggressison and I worked through not caring.  It was pretty easy to do, surprisingly. 

Today I’m going to Walmart and to buy some new flowers to water and I’ll buy some food to cook.  I’ll probably buy some toilet paper too because there are no more napkins left in the house if you know what I mean.

I’m taking the ole’ man out to eat tonight for Father’s Day last week.  Then I’m going to get sick to my stomach and lose all that delicious food via the south end because I have to sing twice this weekend which equals at least one visit to the flusher.  Some people prepare for performance by practice. Me?  I prefer toileting.

My 8 week break from cakes will be coming to an end in 2 weeks. I’ve been really proud of myself for being able to say no to people too.  Not only “no” but being okay with saying no. If I’m being completely honest, I haven’t really missed it.  I’ve really needed a break.  I’ve been able to relax a whole lot more than I do on weekends when I’m despairing over a bowl of icing.  I’m sure I’ll continue to do them but fewer and far betweener.  It’s very satisfying at the end result but it’s also hard to say, “Look Lance, spent all weekend on this cake and you never got to see me BUT we made 5 dollars!!!!!!”  I understand his frustration.  Sometimes I even lose money on cakes…yowsers.

In other news, still no baby.  Two periods have come and gone but don’t be dismayed.  BEHOLD a new month is upon us!  I’m feeling like this is my month.  I don’t know why people say that because it’s based on nothing.  But still, based on that nothing my calculations tell me that this month is going to be my month!  I’m just thinking that my body is probably healed now from the surgery and that it can hardly wait to get busy on human buildling inside of my loins.  Go go gadget uterus!

Okay, so no earth shattering, tear jerking, make you roll on the floor blog but it should do.  I’m going to go scrub the Fruitty Peebles off my teeth and bid you adue!

Kristen Wigg June 29, 2009

I am in total love with Kristen Wigg from SNL.  Enjoy snickering with me, will you?

 http://www.hulu.com/watch/16388/saturday-night-live-surprise-party

http://www.hulu.com/watch/50941/saturday-night-live-virgania-horsens-hot-air-balloon-rides

Basically Bernie July 2, 2009

Would it make you mad if I told you that I felt compassion for Bernie Madolf? If you said no, would it make you mad if he had actually taken YOUR money and I told you I felt compassion for him? Is there a point to where you don’t feel compassion for people?

Now think about that. I didn’t ask, “Is there a point where you aren’t just?” Wrong should be punished. Why am I clarifying that? Because the logical argument when you ask someone a question like, should you feel compassion for Bernie Madolf, is going to be what? They are going to say, “No he did wrong and heartless things! And he did them intentionally!” But isn’t that really a cry for justice?  Can’t you be just and still be compassionate?   He, in fact, DID wrong and heartless things.  I’m in no way disagreeing with that.  Furthermore, I agree he should’ve been punished like he was.

To all of you who are rolling your eyes, bear with me.

I heard on ABC yesterday that Bernie smirked as he walked out of the court room after being sentenced 150 for destroying people’s lives. Although he apologized, he wasn’t remorseful which consequently isn’t a apology. So here’s another question:  Do you need someone to feel remorse to feel compassion for them? If you have a child or a friend who is a drug abuser and they’ve hurt you repeatedly, you still feel sorry for them. Now because we instinctively seek justice we might let them fall on their faces at their own expense but you knowing the tragedy of the situation may look on someone like that with pity or compassion.

Why in the world would I feel compassion for Bernie?  He’s not a “good man”.  I suppose it’s because of this.  When people make those types of decsions, I ache for the emptiness in them that caused them to be the “terrible” person they are.  What situations in their life aided their journey to a road of arrogance and self-hatred?

If I see a little boy in my office who has been repeatedly sexually abused, I see an innocent child who was taken advantage of and destroyed at the hands of someone who is sick and dysfunctional.  If you saw that same boy 15 years later who has gone on a path of destruction, abusing other kids, you’d see him as a pedophile who deserves no sympathy.  Who is he then?  The victim young boy who causes your heart to ache at the heinous things done to him, things that changed him forever?  Or is he a disgusting gross adult man who went on to do unspeakable things?  To some, he’s a little bit of both. But how compassionately you see him today depends on whether or not you see him as a pedophile adult or the little boy who lead him there.  I see people more as stories than decisions. 

I know this stance probably offends a lot of people but I think my perspective could do this world some good.  If teachers could look at ”bad kids” at school as the little boy who was ignored all night by his parents all to wake up in the morning to no breakfast and no parent to help him do his  project the night before while all the other kids walk in with their new clothes and fancy book reports, then they might see as more than just a brat. Why? Because they’d understand his rage and hurt.  If we could look at our parents and the mistakes they made in the past while raising us and not look at them as the person that let us down but as the person who did what they could as they tried to fight against their own temptations to be better than what our human nature tempts us to be, then we might see them more as humans than clumsy people responsible for our pain.  Look at people as the stories who brought them to that moment where they let you down in little or major ways and you might just have the ability to see them compassionately.

Some people are glass half full, glass half empty people.  I’m a half full person which some of you will think contradicts with the next statement. 

Some people are “people are basically good” people, and others “people are not basically good” but have sinful natures that are the driving force in their lives as they try to be different apart from God.  I’m a people are not basically good kind of gal.  Wow.  That’s an unpopular view in today’s world.  But let me explain to what that means to me and how it shapes my world view, including compassion.

I can look at Bernie Madolf and see a little of myself.  Just like parents are biased to their kids, if you can see yourself in someone else, you’ll look at them with more grace. 

See if I think people are basically bad, then I think people are capable of anything.  For example, I think anyone can commit adultery.  That shatters lives in a greater way than losing millions of dollars if you ask me.  People who think they aren’t capable of anything are actually the ones at a greater risk of doing the very things they think they’ll never do because they are so sure that they won’t become “that person” that they are doing nothing to make sure they won’t.  In the adultery example, people who are so sure that they won’t commit adultery are the ones who are putting themselves at risk by emailing a coworker back and forth because, hey, no big deal I would never commit adultery, this is a harmless email.  Until one day he tells you that you look nice and then you hang on every letter hoping for the rush of his words until one day BOOM it’s already happening. That situation doesn’t happen to mean, vilanized people.  It happens to me and you because we are all able to become anyone and make any decision.

How does this apply to Bernie Madolf?  I’m only guessing but I’m sure when he was young he probably thought he would never do something like that.  Until one day he gets a job.  He becomes powerful.  First it’s a few thousand here.  Few thousand there.  The rush becomes addictive and before you know it, he’s billions of dollars away from the man his wife married and from the man he thought’d he’d become.  Destruction comes to us in discreet doses.  If it came in one time, full dose prescriptions, most of us would never take it because we would be able to better see the fullness of what it  is.

So, I do believe we are a people very capable of evil.  I know that there are many criminals who do life altering, horrifying, atrocious things.  I know many of those people are sociopaths that were born sick minded and don’t have the sanity to know any different but to those who do know or have known different, I pause a little bit. 

Condoning them is the farthest thing from something I’d do. 

Sparing them punishment, even harsh punishment, isn’t even in the realm of possibilities in my mind. 

But when I heard the ABC commentator say that Bernie sat in the court room alone with no friends or family there and walked away to spend the next lifeless years in jail, I’d be lying if I didn’t have a moment where my heart twitched.  Evil he may be.  Lives he may have ruined.  But no consequence, at least for the sane man, is greater than total abandonment by those who have loved him.  As evil as he may be, human he is and the humanity in me ached for any trace of need for human love that he may left.

Is Bernie a sane man?  Maybe, maybe not.  Is he himself totally uncompassionate?  Perhaps, and by all the evidence presented I’d say so.  But how you see him or anyone else will depend largely on how you see people: basically good or bad.  If you see them as basically good then it’d be logical to cast him out and say that he’s not like us.  If you see him as basically bad,  you may say those aren’t choices I agree with, ones I’d never want to make, but you might also say the spark that took fire in him is the same one in me that if given the fuel, I might just fall too.

It’s not a popular way to look at the world.  But it’s a forgiving one.

There are two ways to look at someone when they’ve hurt you or someone else: stories or decisions, basically good or basically bad.  I hope you see me as one crazy story wrought with pain and joy, hurt and success.  And when you take in to consideration that story, I hope you see those decisions I’ve made and you can say, that could’ve been me.  It could’ve been you because you have fallen and were capable.  Then I hope you take that and spread it to a broader context and say,  it could’ve been anyone because we all fall. 

In that, we find grace. 

In grace, compassion and when it’s all said and done, we are better for having read the chapter that way.

Over Spilled Milk July 8, 2009

When Lance and I were very new newlyweds we were broke. We had this house that had been flipped that was our own little romantic bungalow. I mean, romantic except for the toilet that would clog everytime Lance graced it with number 2. Seriously, every time. If my babies make diapers like he makes toilets then I will have to start taking donations for diapers. All wussy toilets aside, it was a sweet, small first home to two giddy kids.

Then, we lived precious penny to precious penny and I, being the bank Nazi that I am, watched our dollars carefully. Lance had a hard time with the concept of being frugal. I’d be shopping for affordable meals at Walmart and he’d be sneaking Oreos and a newspaper in the cart whenever I turned around. We faught about that then. We fight about it now, sometimes, but it’s not so much specifically about the groceries anymore. Let’s be honest, husbands only go to the groceries with you in the beginning when it’s fun like you are playing house. After that, come rain, sleet, sun, or snow, you’re on your ladies.

But back to being broke… 

One night we decided that we needed milk and we came up with the spontaneous idea to walk a mile to the Walgreens at 11 at night. Oh yes, this would be fun. We’d walk a mile down one of our hometown’s busiest streets, get the jug, and walk back.

The adventure began. We felt silly walking down the busy road and laughed most of the way. We arrived at Walgreen’s, grabbed our 450 dollar gallon of milk and started the journey back to our humble abode. Somewhere along the way, the silliness increased and Lance began acting like a Jamaican woman, “carrying” the milk on his head. I, in my infinite wisdom, said, “Don’t do that! If you drop the milk after we walked all that way then I’ll kill you!”

Laughter continued. Lance’s ignoring of my wisdom continued. Five driveways from our house, Jamaican Lance dropped the milk. Shatter. Shatter precious milk shatter.

Lance began laughing wildly as our theorhetical money gushed all over the sidewalk.

Here’s the scene: Lance is red in the face laughing over the spilled milk. I am screaming “Pick it up” “Pick it up” like I had dropped a bowl of diamonds in the midnight street and thieves were circling.  I was dead serious.

I rushed to pick it up and sprinted it back to the house for emergency surgery. It may have just been milk but it was overpriced milk and I walked for it.

By the time I got it into the kitchen it had less than half a gallon left. The handle was busted so I held it by the bottom and put it in a casserole dish to save any last precious drops that might trickle out. I served the beverage by pouring it through the handle over the next week. Ahhhh the sweet satisfaction of money saved.

Although I must admit I was hypocrite.  I sacrificed many a potroast on our lawn in anger as I tried to get his mother’s recipe right.  I must’ve chucked at least 30 dollars of pot roast into my backyard while having a tantrum.  My grandfather use to remind me of all the starving children when I didn’t clean my plate as a child.  I’m so glad he wasn’t around to see me populate my yard with angry beef.

I at least gave the last pot roast a proper burial.  Lance came home and there in a plastic container on the counter with RIP written on the top, laid my final newlywed pot roast.  He didn’t have to asked what had happened. He already knew. I swore off roasts for a good year until I made my next one which was as tender as tree bark.

Those days seem like forever ago. 

I can cook a pot roast now just as good as my mother in law.  In yo’ face!  The only food product I’ve thrown in my yard has been one measley cake that deserved it.  Now if the milk gets dropped, I’ll say crap and buy a new one.  That’s right, we have it like that.  We can dispose of milk at leisure.

We still laugh and act Jaimacan if the mood is right. Still go on walks.  But as good as we have it, I still miss the days of the simple things where you laughed over clogged toilets, cried over meals gone wrong, and ocassionally…still jumped when you walked in on your spouse naked cause you just weren’t use to it yet.  The emotional depth to a long term marriage rivals it’s newer counterparts and honestly, I wouldn’t go back.  But , it’s still fun to remember.  So for old times sake I think I know what I’ll do.  I’ll go buy a glorious ripe roast, stand on the deck, and laugh as I launch it into the grass.  Lance may find it when he mows but if he looks at it long enough, he’ll understand.

Latest Creation July 13, 2009

This cake was done for Amanda and her 1 year old daughter Ava in Murfreesboro, TN.  I can’t take full credit for this design…a picture was given to me by the person ordering the cake.  The pic was found on the internet so I have no idea whose idea it orignially was.  I made variations to it but it’s all in all like the pic.

 

Here’s a before shot when I was just getting the basics set up…..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And here’s the final shot……

 

 

 

 

 

Smash cake….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

More pics….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Baby Gap July 16, 2009

Today I walked aimlessly around the mall with Lance, in search of a replacement pair of shorts. Roaming from store to store, we ended up in GAP where all the cheap shorts are. (note the sarcasm) After Lance showed me the third shirt that confirms that he WILL be rapidly declining in fashion to meet his final demise in his 40’s with dad jeans, I looked past the ugly shirts to tiny baby clothes that I never knew were there.

I have several pregnant people in my life so I started thumbing through the racks and piles. It’s hard to believe humans can be so small. It’s hard to believe they can charge you the same price for a shirt that’s 6 inches by 6 inches just as they would for a men’s XXL. Standing there and rumaging through piles I started to feel the ache that I always have stuffed somewhere inside. It’s a strange emotion to describe. Holding little vests and jeans in my hands isn’t bittersweet like some might think. I think the excitement of a future child would be the contrasting sweet part but I’m rarely full blown excited.  After so many months and now, 2 years, I know that there is a big fall from excitement to disappiontment.  In place of that feeling I have more of a vunerable hole that we as maternal beings have. It’s a hole that longs to be filled with a child but a hole that has hurt enough that it skirts around the edges of hope with caution. It’s almost more of a sense of loss than a bittersweetness.

It’s strange to mourn something you never had.

Even stranger still to mourn something that you will have somehow, someway. But I do.

I liken it to a Bride who is engaged whose father is absent, uncaring and won’t be there on that day to give her away. It wasn’t her’s to have. She knew it wasn’t hers to have but that doesn’t prevent the heart from dropping when it comes to mind.  Maybe this bride is lucky enough to have another special person to walk her down the aisle to take his place. Even still, as she sits in the pew and music plays, and she watches the bride walk arm and arm with her father, she still feels the ache of that absence.  That privelege.  It doesn’t have to be envy. It doesn’t have to be bittersweet. But it can be the loss of something. Even if it’s just the dream.  And it’s okay to grieve that.

Standing underneath the flourescent store lights at a baby clearance rack, I held the crumpled brown infant shirt in my hand. And I ached.  I felt the absence and I grieved.

I was suddently interrputed by Lance  who came proudly out of the dressing room wearing his final pair of replacement shorts. I put the 4.99, 100 percent cotton symbol of my solemn heart back on the rack and walked away. 

Many will have just read those words and think this is a story about self-pity.  Others will read the bride example and see it as a ephumistic story that describes envy.  Some will say this is all just a different take on bittersweet.  A quiet few will understand alongside of me that mourning doesn’t have to be self-pity.  Desire doesn’t have to be envy.  And pain doesn’t have to be bittersweet.  Albeit a fine line between them all.  

Standing at the checkout today, I finally came to terms with that myself after feeling so wrong for feeling sorrow over my infertility.  I wasn’t wallowing around as poor pitiful me.  I wasn’t desiring a child in an opposition to someone else having a child.  I wasn’t bittersweet.  I was mourning the loss of the dream where babies are conceived without pain and disappointment.  Mourning the absence of something I desire to love.  To those who have miscarried, I’m sure it is much of the same way.  The world doesn’t understand how you can feel so much affection for something you never had and never met.  But you do.  They were real to you.

This little nameless dream I have is very real to me and until that void is filled in my life from my own womb or someone elses, I’ll mourn it’s absence.

Punching in these final last keys, I silently appreciate that the tear on my cheek doesn’t represent the fact that I can’t accept my present, only that I am mourning and letting go of the dream that we have as children where will get married, have 3 kids, maybe 1 boy, 2 girls,  and we’ll all play in the yard behind the picket fence.  It’s hard when things don’t go as you planned.  No matter how necessary.

I’m no longer wrestling with my sorrow but rather sitting by it quietly, respectfully…letting it be.

It’s weird to mourn something you’ve never had. 

But I do.

Tails July 14, 2009

There is the first time you see your parents cry. Then there is the first time you see them naked. I know some of you guys saw your family members naked growing up and still do today. Not in my house. I haven’t seen my sisters naked since the ole’ bubble bath days. Even typing that makes me feel uncomfortable. If I were to see my family members naked, ANY of them, I would feel intensely visually violated. To put it mildly.

There was, however, a time when it was okay. Almost exciting. Clean your barf up and continue reading.

The first time I saw my dad naked I was a wee little girl in diapers. I want to say I was about 3 but who knows these things? I was standing innocently in the bathroom while my dad showered. Little did he know. He stepped out of the shower and my mom said a look of sheer delight came over my face as my big eyes widened, “Daddy, you have a tail!!!!” I could not believe it! After learning all of my animals, how could it be that the very man I called daddy was a part of this exquisite animal kingdom! My mom said I was so pleased. My dad was not pleased. I think he was embarassed that I had seen his tail. Probably also embarrassed that it looked pretty likely that I would be telling others about it. I couldn’t help it. If you found out your dad was part animal part, man wouldn’t you be pretty excited too? Put yourself in a three year old mindset. You work your zoo puzzles tirelessly everyday and then one day your dad comes out of hiding and emerges as a glorious zebra!!! Probably get excited just thinking about it…

The second time I saw my dad naked I, once again, was innocently and unknowingly in his room talking to my mom. He came out of the bathroom into the bedroom but this time I wasn’t delighted. This time I was 8 and I knew what tails were for and that I didn’t have one and that I wasn’t supposed to see tails. So I did what any kid would do and I went and sat by myself in front of the piano and played the piano song from BIG and I cried. My mom came in the room and tried to talk to me about it but there was nothing she could say. I just kept pushing the keys one by one.

Bum bum bum (sniff sniff)
Bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum bum (sniff)

If I only I could remember simpler times when naked parents were nothing more than foxes and bears that you welcomed into your home.

So parents, be careful. Your kids will remember you naked the rest of your life. They may think it’s fascinating or they may cry. They may even write about it on the Internet. Guard your tails.

Pleasure Pamphlet: For Adults Only…& Teenagers July 20, 2009

I love reading news stories about sex because every time I do, I get a little bit more shocked and a little bit more fired.  Just when you think the world couldn’t be less inhibited, they surprise you.

“Britain’s National Health Services has a message for teens:  Sex can be fun.  Health officials are tyring to change the tone of sex education by urging teachers to emphasize that sexual relations can be healthy and pleasurable instead of simply explaining the mechanics of sex and warning about diease.” – The Associated Press

Whew!  I was so worried that teens weren’t enjoying sex!  Just wait until they hear it’s pleasurable. They are going to blow their lids!  Here these teenagers were forcing themselves to have sex all the while getting no satisfaction because of their excesssive fears of herpes.   When they find out that sex is fun they are all gonna start doing it! 

Paahhhhh–lease!  If there’s one thing kids know they like at that age, it’s sex and they don’t need a teacher to tell them it’s pleasurable for them to figure that part out.  But still, someone had the idea that “sex is fun” is a better way to spin sex ed to teens. Thus, Britain’s educational system came up with a new booklet to circulate around their schools with a title that sounds like it was ripped from a Playboy add: The Pleasure Pamphlet.

In this outrageous pamplet there is a section encouraging daily pleasure.  That’s not what they entitled it but that’s what I’ll say.  It says it’s purpose it to,

…encourage educators to tell teens about the positive physical and emotional effects of sexual gratification…

This is an important section because hey, it’s important to endorse daily self-gratification along with encouraging no self-control because our teens are so uptight and inhibited these days, you know?

Again, my sarcasm meter is sky high.  Telling a teenager that there is a positive physical effect of sex is like telling a hungry baby that milk is really good and they don’t have to fight it anymore. 

The article went on to say that,

“This booklet suggests ways that teachers can encourage sexual awareness and responsibility while teaching young people that sex is meant to be enjoyed.”

They said that they want to shift the tone of sex education from STD’s and simply the mechanics of sex to more of pleasure based approach where sex is so much more.

Let’s bring this to a screeching halt.  Simply the word sex was disgusting as spoken from the mouth of my polyester pants wearing, never had a girlfriend, 70’s dressing, “knock off the laughter and be mature guys” teacher.  I can see the scene in the hallways across Britain now where there are floods of kids that come screaming from their classrooms as their un-hip, old teachers who wear their pants up to their shoulders utter the words pleasure from their mouths.  Pandimonium.  They should’ve thought about this because kids are going to be so distracted by their teachers giving the message that they might miss the part about sex being fun.  How will they ever know if we don’t teach them?

This approach to sex education is an ignorant, laughable attempt to be relevant and cool to kids, befriending them and relating to them on things that they don’t need this kind of relating to.   What’s next in health classes? Books titled:  Drugs are fun.  Check em’out.  Maybe there could be sections entitled things like: Joints, joints, good for the heart…  It would need to be something like that to keep up with the playful banter of the drug books pre-quel, the Pleasure Pamphlet.  

I thought the whole reason the system blasts teaching abstinence over sex education is the fact that KIDS ARE ALREADY DOING IT so it’s not relevant.  If that’s the case, what they DO know about is the pleasure.  What they DON’T know about are the repercussions.  Especially the emotional ones.  Why would we take the focus in our schools off of the reality of sex and put it all on how fun and recreational it can be?  And to think that Britain has really high rates of teen pregnancy and they are the ones that thought emphasizing pleasure would profit them?  Give me a break!

The most frustrating thing about all of this is that I know that some day that the Pleasure Pamphlet will come to the states because we are always just one more slight value shift away from becoming more and more liberal.  

 In five more years you will be able to have your hamsters married, get them hamster social security numbers, and demand that your state offer books on hamster marriage in your kids 1st grade class so that we can all understand their flourishing relationship.  Is there no limit to what our kids can see and hear in school?  You can’t pray with my child at school but you can encourage them to get some sort of daily sexual gratification? Unreal!

It’s sad that you can teach kids stuff like this in school and it’s ridiculous that someone thinks teaching that sex is pleasurable is even necessary muchless beneficial.  Even dolphins have recreational sex so I don’t think your high school senior missed the memo.   

Heaven forbid we reinforce the negatives of sex to teenagers.  When you are 15 years old, all effects of sex will ultimately be negative. 

Heaven forbid we even teach them about how sex should truly be.  This brochure is supposedly trying to teach teenagers about what a healthy sexual relationship is but what they are missing is THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A HEALTHY SEXUAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN TEENAGERS. 

This approach to sex ed is a weak, sorry, and broken attempt to treat kids like adults and aid them in doing something that isn’t healhty in the first place.  

If there is one thing we know about high school, it’s that secrets aren’t kept.  The ones about sex being pleasurable are usually the first ones exposed.  The pleasure pamphlet isn’t a new spin on sex ed but it’s really just as old as time as it goes in and out of every ear and conversation during locker breaks all over the world everyday like it has been for 50 years.  This packet is a teenage conversation packaged as a new idea but really it’s old news.  And if they haven’t noticed, it’s not doing anyone any favors.

Literal Video July 21, 2009

Someone recently showed me a few of these literal videos and I think they are hilarious.  Basically these guys take an old music video and sing on the track what the people are literally doing rather than singing the lyrics.  These are my two favorites.  The second one of Total Eclipse of the Heart is really funny until they a stupid commentary on the video somewhere around the middle when there are no sung parts.  Other than that you will love this! 

The embedded code wouldn’t work for this one so I had to post the link. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lj-x9ygQEGA

Gift Cake July 23, 2009

This cake is for a 44 year old woman’s bday who gave me no guidelines on what to do.  Not even so much as a single color.  So, I opted to do a gift cake with an art deco sort of wrapping paper.  Hope she likes it.  I actually haven’t delivered it so we’ll see. 

This was my first time doing a bow on a cake and I was pretty pleased with it.  With no further adue, this is why I didn’t post a blog today.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Danger of Desire July 30, 2009

Mine was cute. A soccer player. Fun to be with. And of course, the necessary ingredient for intoxication, hard to get. Most of us had one of these: the bad boy type that you had to have. The mysterious one. The one you wanted to win. The one you wanted who you wanted them to want you. That’s a mouthful. An honest mouthful, but a mouthful nonetheless.

Guys don’t typically have these girls in their life. They typically have girls that are too needy, overbearing, jealous, etc. Maybe those girls are the ones they wish they could want. This problem between guys and girls seems to start somewhere around high school and unfortunately, lasts for many their whole life long. Why does the allure of the “hard to get one” last? It’s self-punishing to love someone who doesn’t love you back so why is it addicting?

In a perfect world, the way as God intended, guys lovingly pursue girls, honor them, care for them. Likewise, girls are to be loving, respectful, freed by their spouses love rather than bound by it. That’s in the perfect world. It’s how God tells us treat each other and the way we should be as partners. How God tells us to be as men and women in relationships says alot about what are emotional needs are as men and women. Men need respect, they want a sense of being the provider for their family, the protector, and so on. And so the Bible tells us to respect our husbands. Women need to be listened to, cared for, have our needs taken into account, etc. Not surprisingly, the Bible tells men to love their wives which encompasses all of our emotional needs. Given how we are created, we are left here on the earth as girls who seek to be loved, and men who seek to respected. This can be a good thing within in the right context but let’s switch back to the common problem of women who want those who don’t want them. The girls who chase a man that shouldn’t need catching if you are to have the above described love.   At least for some time in our lives, we get what we should have, what we need and what we want, all mixed up. 

With my guy, I loved being with him and I loved his personality. That added desire onto my need as a woman to be loved and validated.

So, why the bad boy? You don’t have to agree with everything I just said about God above. However, I believe firmly that that’s context for how we are created. You may say though that it’s not how we were created it’s because some girls had rejection from their father’s or some girls just like a guy because they do and so they end up relationships with those type of guys. While I believe that all of those are driving forces for such relationships, I believe it all comes back to the NEED we have as women to be loved. I believe that need can be exposed, abused, and tormented by many life circumstances but I believe that need comes from how we were created as God to be as women: someone needing love. Of course men need love too which can be a facet of respect, but it’s more often than not women who are seeking validation in men because of that need.

Okay, so come back to me now with that guy from your past who played the role of a man who always left you hungry. If you didn’t have one, picture your friend who does or did.

Why did you, they, she, stay with this person? When you are with a guy who emotionally dances on you because they leave you questioning their commitment or love for you, what keeps you with them? Of course you love them but why do you continue to endure? Well once our need as a women to be needed is in the middle of a dysfunctional relationship, it breeds more neediness. The more he keeps you guessing, the more he moves forward and back from you over and over again, the more you crave HIS love. It’s not enough that someone else wants to date you or thinks you are pretty or whatever. You need HIS love, HIS approval, HIS validation. You need it from him because he is the one who is rejecting you. He made you feel invalid and since you are wrongly depending on his validation for your fulfillment, for your ticket to be okay, you need him and only him to let you know you are desired and worthy. The other guy who wants to date you or your best friend who thinks you are pretty? They don’t matter because they have validated you so they can’t fill that hole. You want to know that he can say you are okay because he took away your validation, you are dependent on him to make you valid again. It’s like a drug. The more hits you take, the more hits you need to be “okay”. The more he pushes, the more you need him to pull you back in so that you can feel valid so that you can feel loved.  Why? Because he’s become the one and only source you will accept as validating. Only he can make you feel loved.

This process is isolating, just like drugs. A drug addict can’t take an aspirin to get a high and a girl who longs to be loved can’t receive healthy affirmation from God or someone else because they are dependent on an unhealthy source for their approval, self-worth, and acceptance. They are hooked on the dysfunction of chasing love when love is supposed to freely given to us by a man. Dysfunction breeds dysfunction and chasing love always leaves you starving. It should. It wasn’t meant to make you full.

Girls want to find this validation in any way she can. Some girls sleep around because for a second, in that heat of the moment, they are wanted. They can see it on his face, hear it in their voice. They want me.

Some girls dress provocatively. I remember being this way although I thought I was dressing just like everyone else at the time. I didn’t realize that I had formed a secret dependence on it until I stopped dressing that way and dressed appropriately. All of the sudden, guys stop looking at you and all of the sudden I realized, I didn’t feel attractive. I didn’t feel valid. I wasn’t a whore in high school by any stretch and that’s just the thing.  I didn’t want the end result of what my attire would lead a guy to want to do.  I just wanted them to want to.   I just wanted the part where they wanted me and not even sexually.  I wanted their DESIRE of me where I was an attractive worthy girl. Girls cash in wanting to feel beautiful for a guy lusting over them because it fills the whole quicker and it’s easier to get a guy to lust for you then it is to get a guy to respect genuine beauty, no matter how you define beauty. Many girls will read this and not ever know it’s them too until they remove the unhealthy, persons or things in their life that they are getting validation from.

Whether it’s through, appearance, sex, or relationships, when it’s all said and done, we as women want to be adored. That is a good and healthy thing. We want to be pursued with romance. We want our boyfriends, fiances, and spouses to look at us with weakness in their knees and desires in their hearts. In the right balance and with the right man, the right love will make us soar. The right desires, with the wrong man will leave us chained.

We all had a moment, a time, an experience, a love, where even if our love for that person was real, even if our desire to be wanted started out as pure, we all had the moment where the desire to be wanted became greater than the desire to be loved rightly.

My “hard to get” one was someone who I truly and deeply loved many years ago. Not just because he wasn’t as mine as I wanted him to be, but because I simply loved him.  And while my love from him naturally made me desire his love, it was my God given need to be looked at as precious, loved, and prized that kept there even when he treated me as if I was everything but. I needed to know, why not me? I could’ve had someone elses love but which would be more validating: a guy who gives his desire to me freely or the one who I have to win his validation? In the perversity of my heart, the one who made his love a prize to be won was what both my love and my needing heart sought.  It just felt like the ultimate victory in the game of feeling loved.  It took me years to see it for what it was.

However, there is a love that doesn’t need to be chased and that’s in the Lord.  When the Lord finally gave me a man who gave me the love I needed which is an example of His love for me, it was hard to adjust to aspirin over heroin.  Not just adjust, but it was hard to even desire a functional relationship.  I was addicted to the emotional highs and drama of the “fulfilling” chase of a boy I once loved.  Being in dysfunctional relationships teaches you lots of secret messages.  You start to desire the tough guy because he seems manly and strong.  You forgot that manliness can be simple, quiet, honest, sensitive, sincere, and patient.  God gave me a picture of his love for me in a man who taught me that I was worth loving and I didn’t have to run around behind him constantly to make sure I was lovable.  As quickly as you would think I would’ve run to that, I didn’t.  Emotional rehab takes its time.  It takes time to the change the heart long after the circumstances have been altered.

I wish I could say that I didn’t still desired to be desired…sometimes in the wrong way .  A human heart, even with the best of men, doesn’t give you the ability to not be wanted.  As always, from the time you passed your first love note, you have the choice of what will be your fulfillment.  Will the fact that you were beautifully and wonderfully made be enough for you? Your validation can’t be on your man or any man’s opinion.  If it is, you will spend your days basing your value on the number of compliments you’ve received or the number of wrinkles on your face.   Secondly, will the fact that you have healthy love keep you from desiring the old familiar hit of wanting that guy to think you are attractive or wantable?  Don’t bet on it.  I believe this need we have makes anyone susceptible to divorce and adultery.  Like anything, we have to keep our desires in a balanced proportions or they will consume us and lead us astray.

At the end of the day, it’s not a matter of whether or not you will want to be loved.  Not a matter of if you will have the need to be desired or loved.  Only a matter of where you will meet that need and where you will find your satisfaction.  People will always be looking to be filled and be the filler.  What is filling your need?

25 and Prayin’ August 3, 2009

Alright so I ovulated this week. Okay, so I’ve ovulated about 25 times, literally, since I’ve started this whole process but one of those eggs has to be a winner. You know, a regular prize winning golden egg like the ones in the Wonka Factory.

Lance and I have our 5 year wedding anniversary Friday and we’re hoping for a nice late anniversary gift. 5 years of marriage and not so much as a fetus to show for it! What is this relationship coming to? =0)

Actually, I have felt pretty confident about this month but everytime after the egg has been put on the market ,I start to think, “What if I didn’t do enough or did something wrong?” I was feeling okay about it all until we got a call from another couple who is pretty much in our same situation and they brought up using Robitussin. If you don’t know why you would take Robitussin while trying to conceive, I’m not going to tell you. Just goggle your little fingers away.

They were telling a story about how the month their friends got pregnant after 5 years of infertility, was month they  used Robitussion. Of course everyone has a story of what they did “that month”. Who knows if it actually had anything to do with their conception. Ridiculous right? Why should another one of those stories ruffle my feathers? Speaking of feathers…it did. I ran to my fridge and reached for the eggs. Eggs? Foreshadowing? Hopefully.

The story reminded me that I only used eggs and Robitussin before I found out that I had endometriosis. Why did I stop? Dear girl, get ahold of yourself and some eggs and come to your senses!!!!

It was 11 pm at night and Lance was working on his sermon. I delivered the good news, egg in hand. Then it hit me, this egg is too cold. It’s supposed to be room temperature. Hmmmm, time is a ticking and it’s late so what I can do? Ironically, like a mother hen, the only thing I could think to do was sit on it on the couch. I wasn’t trying to be a chicken but I really think they are on to something with whole sitting on the egg idea. I wrapped mine in a washcloth just in case my crushing 105 pound body would shatter my baby egg. AND, I wasn’t in a roost so no laughing. There were many differences between me and the mother hens.

The egg warmed and so it was finished.

We’ll see if now I have my story to drive trying to conceive couples nuerotic with: a washcloth, egg, and couch roost. As they laugh I’ll giggle my baby in their face and yell, “WORKED FOR ME!” Man, some people are so judgemental.

Thoughts August 10, 2009

Does Vanna White feel fulfilled?

How do paper and sticky labels get seperated off of all of the millions of recycable bottles and boxes? 

God sure did make a lot of animals look like they are smiling.

Where do fruit flys come from?  They almost grow out of my fruit.

What’s the purpose of toe hair?

Why does the amount of corn you put it, not come out?

Why do people buy dogs to cage them and chain them and never touch them?  Why don’t they just give them away?

Why do vultures circle their food?  Why don’t they just go right to it and eat it?  They just circle and circle and then more and more vultures come and circle with them.  Then by the time they eat, they have to spilt it 4 or 5 ways when he could’ve had it all to himself if he just would’ve eaten instead of flying around it over and over again.

If God didn’t mean for us to squeeze blackheads, then why did he make it so much fun?

Brace yourselves for this one.  How does all of our toilet paper and “feminine products” get out of our water so that they can process it and turn it into drinking water?  Quit gagging, it’s a fair question.  Hopefully I’m right on the logic of that question.  All of our water is drinking water at some point, right?  I know there is no new water since the beginning of time, just the same water cycling through the water cycle of rain, evaporation, and then rain again etc.  This question is getting really complicated.  Okay I just looked it up.  In California they are working on turning sewer water into drinking water.  Eat your heart out:  http://www.ask.com/bar?q=does+sewer+water+eventually+become+drinking+water&page=1&qsrc=0&ab=3&u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.ocregister.com%2Fnews%2Fwater-system-district-1931461-bilodeau-treatment

How do people know what kind of skin a dinosaur had just from finding it’s bones?  Books have colors and everything.  How could we know what color they were and what their skin looked like from their fossils?

Why did people make up words with silent letters?  Knife?  Really?  Why? Serisouly, why?

Did you know that bears in captivity don’t hibernate?  That’s because in the wild there is little, if any, food in the winter so they need to hibernate to survive it.  In captivity, someone feeds them daily and they don’t need to “sleep” through the season.  (Just thought I’d answer a question since I’ve just been asking them.)

Did you know without bees that we couldn’t sustain farming and thus, have enough food to eat because they do all of the pollenating for us?  How did I know that?  Because I watched a really terrifying NOVA show about the colony collaspe of bees and how they are disappearing by the millions in the US. 

Why do humans need so many nutrients to survive but big strong animals twice our size (like horses) only need grass/hay and water?

Can anyone believe that Bob Saggett has another show on TV?

Wonder why God made some animals to mate for life?

Can the world wide web “crash” and every site loses everything it ever had?

I wish they made seatbelt cleaner.

The best way to slap a friend or spouse in the face for a comedic moment is by using their instincts against them.  “Smack” them on one side of their face and they will instintinctivley turn away from that hand.  That’s why you have your other hand ready to smack them on the other cheek as they turn it towards you away from the first blow.  SHAZAAM! They won’t know what hit them.  Just a little something I learned from the streets.

We’ve Interuppted Your Life To Bring You This Important Message… August 5, 2009

You interrupt my life, my dates, my sleep, my time with my husband.  You constantly buzz him to tell him that you just, “Watched the best movie” or “Ate the best chicken”.  I hate you Twitter.

Twitter is the most ridiculous of all of the social networking sites.  I despise that Lance gets a million texts a day from people that he rarely talks to all for them to say what they just did.  This process of sending messages sounds a little familiar…oh yeah, A TEXT MESSAGE!  Here’s an idea, if you want someone to know what you just did, send them a personal text.  What?  You wouldn’t send a text to someone to say that you “just watched Ghost Busters on TV and fell asleep”?  I think you are on to something with that line of thought.  Keep going with it.  If you wouldn’t send a text like that out of the blue to your friend , you probably shouldn’t send it out in mass quantities to groups of people. 

Some people follow people they don’t really even know.  Following celebrities, singers, people in the media of any type that you admire is basically like getting a first hand tabloid to your phone.  You wouldn’t pick up a magazine to see what “Britney Spears  did today but by golly if you can get a mass message, impersonal text that she just went to hot yoga then by golly you do it!

Why do I want to know what you are doing every five seconds?  If you want to update the world, then do facebook statuses.  It’d be twitter only better though because my facebook status isn’t going to ring to your phone during your dinner, all to tell you that I just went for a jog. 

Of all of the Internet things to do with your time, Twitter is the most pointless.  There are more noble things to do with your life than interrupt your time with your family and friends by receiving a  play by play of someone’s life.  Someone who 99 percent of the time you don’t even care to invest in  a real relationship with or someone who you don’t even really know.

And then there are the times when Lance gets Twitters from respectable, well known family men who have slammed busy schedules and the text says, “Getting to enjoy my family at PF Changs tonight”  The only thing I can think is, “You are busy all the time.  You don’t have much family time.  Heaven forbid you don’t take out your phone while you are with them and just BE with them!”  Surely you can sever your ties with your electronics at least momentarily!  I, in all sincerity, lose respect for people when they are busy, busy men and they text meaninglessness to people during their precious family time.

I realize you can get any social networking to your phone: myspace, facebook, etc.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m against all of them when they’re something you have with you at all times that alerts you when there’s a new video you need to watch or an action you need to know I’ve just taken.  It’s hard enough to get away from your daily schedule and even harder still, from technology.  Thankfully though we can have it allure us, tempt us, and even send us a signal to our phones when a new piece of “juicy” information is waiting.

Someone out there is inevitably reading this blog and thinking, “She’s writing about technology being disruptive and pointless and she’s writing an Internet blog….hmmmmm.”  First of all, don’t make me beat you up.  Second, I blog when I don’t have the opportunity to be with my family.  Lance is mowing.  I am venting.  So no time is really lost.  Moreover, I like to think that I’m using my gifts and it’s something I do to enjoy myself and blow off steam.  I hope I blog honestly and encourage others in the process so that there is actually some bigger purpose.  I don’t like blogs that are extended Twitter messages detaling that, I went to the grocery and then I slept etc.  Some might say, “Well Twitter is my hobby and I enjoy it.”

The day my hobby becomes sending update sentences to people on their cell phones….

Just shoot me.

Happy Anniversary August 7, 2009

Celebrating 5 years of marriage today and all of the blogs it’s given me. =0)

I Dare You To Pray This August 10, 2009

Francis Chan is an amazing pastor in California. He doesn’t take a salary from his church so that all of his would be salary can go to missions, etc. He makes 500,000 a year in speaking engagements and book sells and gives away 450,000 a year. Yes, that’s what I said. He gives away 450,000 dollars a year of his own earned money. Francis lives with his wife and children off of 50,000 a year, living in California.

This is a 2 minute video his daughter recorded of him talking on a plane. Come on, give this guy 2 minutes of your day. He dares you to pray this.

The Lines That Changed Our Lives August 17, 2009

So here’s the dish.  I know a lot of you having  losing sleep racking your brains with how I told Lance the big news and how I found out I was pregnant.  I really want to help you be less anxious so I’m going to share it with you now.  Please enjoy.

Monday morning:  I got out of bed after a long night of sleep and felt like I had been hit by a mac truck.  I’d definetly never felt that way before but I only thought of it in passing moments during the day.  When you have been trying to have a baby for so long…eventually…you don’t take any symptom seriously.  Later that day I felt dizzy but hey, I do that all time with migraines and allergies.

Tuesday night:  I felt like my body had been running marathons along with rock climbing and kick boxing  and like I had been doing killer dance moves all day, even though I’d mainly been sitting.  I went to bed with a smile and thought to myself, “You are pregnant”, but again, I wasn’t fully buying the idea.  I wasn’t even supposed to start my period for 3 days.

That night I peed 3 times like a champion race horse in mass amounts.  Hmmmm…weird.  7:30 in the morning, I awake again to be a race horse.  I think to myself, “There are 2 tests in the bathroom.”  Then I think to myself, “You’ll be disappointed and you always regret taking early tests.”  5 minutes later I’m on the toilet, test in hand, fearing disappointment.  The control line shows up on the test like always and I thought, “See, I told you!  Doing what they always do when they are negative!”  Then to my disbelief I see a faint line appear.  I grabbed my face, gasped, and sobbed out loud.  I immediately stopped.  Was I seeing this?  I held the thing sideways, tilted it, stared holes through it, did whatever I could to disprove myself.  But the line got darker and darker and I held my face and cried out loud.  And cried.  Looked at the test…and cried.  I ran to the bathroom mirror and said, “I’m PREGNANT!  YOU ARE PREGNANT!  I’M PREGNANT!”  I took pictures of myself with the test, pictures of the test, and laughed and cried.

I thought, “I can’t tell anyone before I tell Lance.”  Next thought, “Who can I tell?”  So I called the Fertility Center as soon as they opened and told them I needed an appointment.  The receptionist said, “Date of birth, Dr. Name…”  I blurted out, “I’m pregnant. I’m so excited!”  Telling the receptionist wasn’t as thrilling as I had hoped so to make a long story short, I told two doctors, three co-workers, an 8 year old client who asked me if Lance would be mad I was pregnant, and my entire family all while Lance sat at work having no idea he was going to be a father.  I had NO self-control and enjoyed every second of it!  I found out at 7:30 am and Lance wouldn’t be home until 5!  What’s a girl to do?!

Here’s why I waited to tell him though.

When Lance and I were engaged, I gave him a scrapbook that chronicled our whole relationship.  I mean it had pictures from 6th grade until college, notes, tickets, name tags from church  camps, stories typed out of all of our memories…everything!  I had the idea 2 years ago when we first started trying to conceive to use the scrapbook for the announcement and I didn’t want to do it over the phone, I wanted to give him a BIG planned surprise the way I dreamed I would.

At 5 o’clock, Lance walks through the door.  I’m sitting on the couch with the scrapbook in my hand, heard pounding out of my chest so loudly that I fear he can hear it. I ask him, “Will you sit with me and look at our scrapbook?”  I thought he would at least say, “Let me take off my work clothes..”, but he didn’t.  He sat right down.

He flipped through the pages one at a time and I was a total mess and totally distracted.  Then he turned the page and saw something he hadn’t ever seen before, randomly placed in the book, right after high school homecoming pictures, was a new scrapbook layout.  And this one said, “The first time you heard, “We’re pregnant!”  In the middle of the page were the pictures I took earlier when I just tested positive: one of me holding the test smiling & a picture of the test stick.

He paused and stared at the page and said…”What?”

Moments of silence passed and then it hit him…

“SHUT UP!!!!!!!!!”

He turned to me and I was silently crying.  He grabbed me and hugged me so tightly and cried too.  Quickly, he pulled back, face grinning wall to wall and yelled, “NO WAY!  I DON’T BELIEVE IT! YOU’RE PREGNANT?!!!!!”  I pulled the test out from between the couch cushions just in case he had any doubts.  He laughed, jumped up and danced, yelled…he did it all.  I couldn’t have asked for a better response or a happier husband. Well, maybe I could’ve.  At one point soon after the announcement he got really excited and said, “Is that why your cheeks are getting fat?”  I looked at him sarcastically and silently and then he said, “No seriously!!!  Is that a side effect?”   Poor Lance.  So excited his commonsense went out the door. Fat cheeks or not, we were both elated.

So that’s how the story goes in a nutshell.

Each day I feel a little worse but I lay on the couch with my body aching and my stomach churning and I soak up every ache and yawn.  It’s the constant reminder that I have this baby growing inside of me.  It’s the reminder of everything I’ve wanted for the past 2 years.

I would say that I’m in shock and I suppose in some ways I am, but I have yearned for this for so long that I simply feel like I’ve slipped naturally into the role.  I feel so absolutely overjoyed and content that I’m calm and settled.

Very few times in life do things meet your expectations.  Then again, sometimes they are everything you ever hoped for. Today, I’m in the middle of everything hoped and I praise the Lord for this 1/25th of an inch blessing beating in my womb.  I’m humbled, thankful, and blessed as I type the words that felt like they’d never be written from my hands.  Thank you Jesus!  I can’t wait to meet you baby =0)

August 20, 2009

I’ve been without internet this week but I’ll be posting Monday as usual. =0) Sorry buddies…

The Life & Times of Invisible Baby August 24, 2009

If you bought stock in Clear Blue Easy  or First Response pregnancy tests, sell it.  I’m not buying those anymore.  Now a better investment would be shares of Planet Smoothie or as I refer to it: Survival Smoothie.  This little grain of rice size baby thing is sucking the life out of me but I’m not going down without throwing a few smoothies at it first.  I shutter to think of how much money I’m spending on smoothies now but I but I cringe more at the thought of starvation and looking like Popeye’s girl, Olive Oil, so I’m doing what I have to do, one drink at a time.  I’m usually only hungry one time a day because of nausea so I try to really sink one killer meal and live the rest of the time by sipping my dollars away.  It’s amazing how much this tiny thing wants from you.  I’m feeding you once a day what more do you want from me?!  All smoothies aside, I love this little kid tadpole alien baby.

As I’m starting out this bumpy, blessed road of pregnancy, I’m learning very quickly 2 things about being pregnant:

1- Everyone has advice.

2- Everyone goes out of their way to be courteous. 

For example, my 1 o’clock appointment cancelled today.  She said that her daughter has the swine flu and that she figured that I might not want to be around them since I’m pregnant.  She’s right because if I wasn’t pregnant I’d say, come on in, nothing like a good case of the swine flu for 12 dollars an hour but since I’m pregnant…I’ll take a rain check.  Lucky for me, I told her I was pregnant a week earlier so she figured she’d be courteous.  My baby prevails! Note to self: Tell everyone you are pregnant just in case.

Take another sitaution that happened to me last week.  Lance and I were at a restaurant and I was noticably sick and the waitress took to feeling sympathetic for me since she was really sick with all of her children.  So to remedy her compassion for my barfy state, she brought out my entree and said, “I didn’t give you very much food.  See if you can eat this.”  She smiled and patted my back and walked away.  In an attempt to be motherly, the waitress charged me full price for an entree with half the food.  I started to think…wait a second….and then I realized I was being blessed by another case of courtesy.  Smiles for everyone.

Again, all courtesy aside from the weirdos, I love this little pregnancy.

Yes, these days have had their ups and downs but this is how I’m living my life these days.  I changed my hours at work to be afternoon hours so I can work during the best part of my days.  I spend the rest of the time looking at baby magazines, setting up pregnancy countdowns in my phone, and reading books that tell you week by week what’s happening with your baby.  Typically I read the week I’m currently in and then argue with myself about not reading the future weeks.  Somewhere about 3 months beyond my current point in pregnancy, I usually stop reading.  I have taken a liking to sleeping.  I’ve replaced googling infertility questions with pregnancy ones.  I’m also taking an interest in pee racing and my favorite, bra filling.  I enjoy nightly foot rubs and gagging on foods with a mushy texture. 

I’m also coming up with several ways to be lazy.  I have lots of these easy-to-do modifications to only half-way do necessary things.  For example, when I go to the grocery and come home to put the bags up, I simply put the whole bag in the fridge.  Hey,  you either have to look for food on the fridge shelf or from a bag.  At the end of the day, I’m better for just throwing the whole bag in the fridge.  The best part is, Lance loves it!    In other attempts to save myself extra energy, I’ve set up a cracker fort by my bed and a reading/eating/2nd house on my coffee table so I can live from the couch if the desire strikes to do so.  Living the good life playas!!!  I’m trying to enjoy it now because Lord willing the next time I’m pregnant I’ll have another baby so living on my furniture won’t be an option. 

Me and my invisible baby are living the good life and enjoying all of the special treatment.  Next week Lance and I have our first ultrasound BOO-YEA!  There’s a good chance we’ll hear the heartbeat and a good chance I will post a picture of my baby bean.  There’s also a good chance I will talk about this baby alot but I won’t run you off.  You’ve got to believe in me!  If I get pregnant and you leave me, I’m taking you to the people’s court and suing for child support.

Boobie Cake August 27, 2009

 

Please? August 27, 2009

I need a favor.  And yes, this applies to all of my closet blog readers that never post comments. =0)  Reveal yourselves! =0)  I want to know, what are your top 3 favorite posts I have written?  I know I have around 250 posts so it might take some thinking but I’d like to know.  Try not to read other people’s comments and say, “Oh yeah…that’s one of mine too….”  I’m afraid it might make you forget other blogs you would’ve otherwise thought of on your own.  I’m thinking about doing something with some of my writings so I’m interested in what you think.  Was it one of marriage, infertility, one about my father, about love and heartache, maybe a funny one?   You tell me.  Drum roll please for your top three favorite/most memorable blogs. 

Thanks!

Knitted August 31, 2009

I was talking to my best friend this morning who is also pregnant. She asked me if I sometimes worry about everything coming together okay inside of me. Is the baby going to be normal? Are it’s parts forming correctly? My answer to that is, yes. I worry sometimes. When I read the week by week books that tell me whats happening with my baby this week,  as fascinating as it can be, it can be equally unsettling. This week my baby’s nueral tube is closing. Don’t want that to go sour if you know what I mean. But when I start thinking things like that, I realize that I’m thinking of this baby as a pure haphazard science experiment and not a real person who God is making. Psalm 139 says:

“13For it was you who formed my inward parts;
   you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
¹⁴I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
   Wonderful are your works;
that I know very well.
¹⁵   My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
   intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
¹⁶Your eyes beheld my unformed substance.
In your book were written
   all the days that were formed for me,
   when none of them as yet existed.

All of the sudden it doesn’t seem like a wreckless crashing of cells but a sovereign making of a person who is already known by Him.

My baby is the size of an orange seed but in reality it’s not just that. It’s a story. In my body I hold a boy or a girl with a day they will be born. A day that they will die.   A life that entails so much takes it’s first beat inside of me. I hold a lifetime of heartbreaks and blissful days.   A real person who will be spouse of another woven baby, friend to many, a life purposed for a particular path. I hold the key to my grandchildren and great grandchildren. I’m carrying generations in my womb. Talents, failures, traces of my parents and grandparents, love, anger, marriage, relationships, choices…beating in me one pulse at a time until on an unknown day in a delivery room a breathe is drawn and the story that’s already written, begins.

Suddenly, I’m in awe and it doesn’t seem so scary. Suddenly, I’m writing the preface of a person for chapters that are soon to be played out, instead of the safe harbor for a science experiment.  I realize that it’s totally and utterly out of my hands.  And that’s exactly the way I want it.

Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Little Polka Dot-a Baby September 2, 2009

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can see little arm and leg buds in the curly c of the body.  I have another ultrasound in a week and a half so it will be neat to see how much its grown in a little over a week. 

I got to see the heart beating and hear it.  It was so wonderful!

Compliment Guys September 9, 2009

No not like complimenting guys but like two guys who are called the compliment guys. They are these 2 guys who stand on Purdue’s campus every Wednesday with a sign that says “free compliments” and they yell compliments at people for hours.  They estimate 1000 compliments per Wednesday.  They are always just simple, non-vulgar compliments to anyone they can get the words out to as they pass by.  For example: 

Nice sunglasses.

You have nice curly hair.

You are a snappy dresser.

Just little simple & honest things.  I love this idea more than hunting easter eggs or making gingerbread houses.  This is one of my favorite things I have heard in a long time.  I seriously try to do this in my own life minus the sign and screaming.  Although the idea of signage and verbal loudness does not offend me.  I might just start doing this in my front yard and if no one passes by, I’ll just yell nice things at my cats.  I pretty much do that on a daily basis with them anyways so it wouldn’t be that different.

But for real, I always try to tell people, anyone really, if I think something nice about them.  Sure sometimes my heart beats harder in the Target line when I blurt out to someone that I really like their top.  It usually only beats hard when I think about it first but I don’t know why I care or why anyone should feel weird about telling someone a kind word.  What are they going to say?  Mind your own business?  If so, I suggest giving this person 5 more compliments to break down their walls. 

What if they next time you find yourself admiring some girl’s hair that you just tell her.  That way she won’t think you are another girl just sizing up another girl.  She will be pleasantly surprised and encouraged and it will make you feel good too.  If I , in all honesty, could pass something along that I do to others, it would be to tell everyone your kind thoughts about them.  That and I would also encourage the utilization of keychain hand sanitizers and it’s liberal use.

The other night I was with a guy friend who none  pervertedly commented on how pretty a girl was.  Now I realize in this situation that it might be weird for him to go tell her that but I just thought to myself that this girl will go back to her dorm room and think it was just an ordinary night but really she was being admired for something.  I wonder how many times you’ve been that girl for whatever reason and had no idea.  Wouldn’t we all be better for encouraging other, stranger or not, in this simple little way.  You never know, you might tell a mother in Walmart how sweet and polite her daughter or son is and it just may give her a  moment of perspective and gratitude in the midst of a hard day of mothering.  Why wouldn’t we do this for each other?  There is no good reason to keep ecouragement from each other.

So, you don’t have to get a sign and scream even though you would go up like 110 percent on my cool meter.  It doesn’t have to be that complicated.  This week (and forever) when you are in line at Walmart or the gas station…where ever it is….tell him or her, nice hat, I like your hair, whatever kind thing you are thinking.  You will make someone’s day.

Not to be a hypocrite I will expose my complimentary soul to close.  Please, picture me screaming this.

DUSTMITE WHEN YOU COMPLIMENT MY BLOGS YOU ENCOURAGE ME AND MAKE ME FEEL LIKE I HAVE TALENT AND I’M ALWAYS GLAD TO SEE YOU AROUND.

JESSIE WHEN YOU TOLD LANCE YOU STALKED MY PAGE IT MADE ME SMILE FOR DAYS. I LOVE THAT YOU SMILE AT ME IN PUBLIC AND YOUR REPUTATION AS A GODLY WOMAN PRECEEDS YOU.

ANN BLAIR YOU HAVE IT SO MUCH MORE TOGETHER THAN YOU KNOW AND I’M EXCITED ABOUT WHO YOU ARE AND THE POTENTIAL OF YOU.  YOU ARE MUCH MORE WONDERFUL THAN YOU KNOW.

DIANA I LOVE THAT WE ARE BACK IN TOUCH AGAIN AND I LOVE TO SEE YOU AND JOHN SO HAPPY TOGETHER. TONS OF MY FAVORITE MEMORIES HAVE YOU IN THEM.

AUDREY YOU KEEP ME SANE WHEN MY BABY FREAKS ME OUT AND YOU ARE AN ENCOURAGEMENT AND BLESSING TO MY LIFE.

KRISTIE YOU ARE SUCH A FAITHFUL FRIEND AND ONE OF THE MOST THOUGHTFUL PEOPLE I KNOW.

KATIE YOU ARE ONE OF THE MOST UNIQUE AND FUN PEOPLE I KNOW AND I LOVE HAVING YOU IN MY LIFE.

STEPHANIE I HAVE LOVED GETTING TO KNOW YOU DURING THIS TIME OF MY INFERTILITY AND YOU HAVE BEEN SUCH AN ENCOURAGEMENT TO ME.

MICHELE I MISS YOU AND YOUR FAMILY AND I LOVE YOUR HEART.  I LOVE SOME OF THE MEMORIES I HAVE LAUGHING WITH YOU OVER NOTHING IN THE FAIRDALE CHURCH BASEMENT.

BONKERS AND SKITTLES YOU GUYS ARE REALLY GOOD PEOPLE AND YOU HAVE REALLY STRONG TALONS.

LAURA I LOVE READING YOUR BLOGS BECAUSE I LOVE THE HUMOUROUS AND HONEST TAKE YOU HAVE ON LIFE.  I’VE ALSO LIKED GETTING TO KNOW YOU BETTER THROUGH ALL OF THIS TYPING AND READING =0)

HANNAH I LOVE YOUR HEART FOR THE LORD AND THAT YOU ARE SERVING HIM OVERSEAS.  I LOVE YOUR HONESTY ABOUT LIFE AND MARRIAGE.

(I’M STILL SCREAMING. I HOPE YOU HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN. WITH ALL OF THESE TENDER WORDS YOU PROBABLY ARE PICTURING A KIND, DOCILE VOICE BUT YOU’RE WRONG.)

PATTI I LOVE HOW SUPPORTIVE YOU ARE IN ALL THINGS AND I LOVE THAT YOU MAKE MY BROTHER HAPPY.  I LOVE YOUR HUMOR ABOUT LIFE AND YOUR BLOG IS MY FAVORITE TO READ.

SARAH BALLANCE YOU HAVE SUCH A JOYFUL SPIRIT AND KIND HEART AND EVERY TIME I THINK OF YOU I THINK OF ONE OF THE SWEETEST PEOPLE I KNOW FROM ONE OF THE SWEETEST FAMILIES I KNOW.

NANCY BLACKETER.  I HOPE YOU ARE READING THIS AND NOT PLAYING FARMTOWN.  I LOVE YOUR LAUGH AND I LOVE MAKING YOU LAUGH.  YOU ARE A TALENTED ARTIST AND I’VE ALWAYS FELT WELCOME IN YOUR HOME.

ALICE I’M SO GLAD TO HAVE FORMED A NEW BOND WITH YOU.  I LIKE SWAPPING PREGNANCIES STORIES WITH YOU ON A WEEKLY BASIS AND I CAN’T WAIT UNTIL THEY TURN INTO BABY STORIES.  I’M ROOTING FOR YOU DURING THIS FIRST TRIMESTER.

SABRINA EVEN THOUGH I DON’T REALLY KNOW YOU THAT WELL I HAVE NEVER MET ANYONE WHO HAS ANYTHING BUT KIND THINGS TO SAY ABOUT YOU AND YOUR FAMILY.  YOUR REPUTATION ALSO PRECEEDS YOU ALSO AND I KNOW THAT YOU ARE DOING WONDERFUL THINGS FOR THE LORD.

SARAH MARCUM YOU ARE A SWEET, SINCERE FRIEND AND EVEN THOUGH WE DON’T TALK CONSTANTLY, YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN SOMEONE I CARED FOR AND CONSIDERED A FRIEND.  I’M SO GLAD I’VE KNOWN YOU ALL THESE YEARS.

NANCY YOU ALWAYS MAKE ME LAUGH AND YOU HAVE THE BEST AND UNIQUE BABY NAMES.  I LOVE WHAT A GOOD FRIEND YOU’VE BEEN TO MY SISTER AND IF I NEVER KNEW ANYTHING ELSE ABOUT YOU I’D LOVE YOU SIMPLY FOR THAT.  SHE RESPECTS YOU SO MUCH.  THANKS FOR READING AND COMMENTING FAITHFULLY AS I MAKE UP STUFF TO BLAB ABOUT =0)

JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE I’M SORRY WE NEVER WORKED OUT BUT YOU WERE GREAT ON THE MICKEY MOUSE CLUB AND EVERYDAY SINCE THEN.  YOU ARE MY FAVORITE PERSON.

I’m going hoarse now and I hope and pray I didn’t leave anyone out.  If so, I’ll scream at you later.

See….I told you that you guys would like this =0)  Make sure to scream at someone this week.

Honestly September 21, 2009

I, in all seriousness, pee so much because of pregnancy that I wish I could wear some sort of diaper. When I wake up in the middle of the night to pee I think, “Man, what if you just had a diaper…mmmmmm.” They couldn’t be called diapers though. It’d need to be something more sophisticated like pregnancy panties.

I, in all actuality, am thinking of going to someone’s house in my neighborhood and offering to buy their dog from them. They NEVER touch it or play with it and it stays chained 24/7. Lance doesn’t want me too because he thinks its weird but he loses. If they say no, it will be hard for me to not say something like, “I understand. I know it’s important for you to have him there for absolutely no purpose but to buy him food.” I won’t say that to their faces but I will in my mind and out loud on the phone to others. There was another family in our neighborhood that kept their dogs caged 24/7 and I resorted to buying them toys and sneaking over in the middle of the night and throwing the toys into their cages. Rebecca is saving this world one dog at a time.

For seriously, my cats are taking over this house since I haven’t felt well enough to battle it out with them. They are sleeping on two of our chairs which is not allowed but I just stare at them helplessly from my couch and say, “Dang you felines! You win! You always do…”

For real, my road rage is out of control.  I am being ashamedly impatient with elderly drivers.  I feel so bad about it too because I think how I’d feel if someone was frustrated with my grandparents.  But this beast inside of me keeps winning.  If I say, “Are you kidding me?” or any such variation while behind an elderly person on the interstate who is driving 50 mph again…I’m going to revoke my own license.

If I’m going to be honest throughout this post I need to correct or rather expand on my first statement. I not only fanatasize about pregnancy panties but also about peeing my pants.  I have seriously considered peeing my pants in moments of bathroom trip exhaustion.  How many times of peeing does it take for someone to get to their breaking point?  My personal bottom is 3-4 times in the middle of the night.

If I could ask my baby one question it’d be, will you please let me brush my tongue?  Also, I might ask what’s sprouting up in the way of gender identifiation.

I’m not lying when I say that Lance made Bonkers’ tail crooked by slamming it in the door.  Poor little guy.  He was probably just trying to balance out when he slammed Skittles tail in the garage door.  I am suspiscious about the frequency of Lance’s infrigements against Skittles these days because she’s now afraid to run through our front and back door.  Lance has got to remember that there is still a foot or so of cat behind their little bodies once their torsos are safely in the door.  I’m going to buy them tail guards.

Okay so I don’t know who designs bathroom stalls but who came up with the genius idea to have the doors open INTO the stall.  The door is the same size as the stall space if you didn’t notice.  I weigh like 104 pounds and I struggle to get out of those doors.  Who is escaping from these things?  It’s amazing anyone makes it out alive. 

I promise you that there is a guy in my neighborhood with a baby opposum as a pet.  I love him.  I dont’ care what you say.  He is cute.  So what if he has a little naked tail?  So do you.  Can’t we all be brothers?

My Frog September 16, 2009

Look how much my baby has grown in only 9 days!  Crazy!  And also, look how much it looks like a frog!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When wordpress stops being an idiot…I’ll post a video of my ultrasound with the baby and it’s heartbeat.

 

 

Dearest Faithfulest Friends September 16, 2009

Dear friends,

My internet is not working at home so that’s why I’ve so violently and abruptly abandoned you.  It is driving me so crazy that I have abbreviated and spelled more cuss words than any preacher’s wife should ever do.  I’m writing you from work now and I will figure something else out by next week.  I have a few blogs in the works so get real, real excited.  I’m sorry I have forsaken you.  Enjoy the following blog with a picture of my frog child.

Sincerely,

Your Favorite

I present you to my fetus bump September 22, 2009

  Here is my little 9 week belly.  Some days its there and then others it hides from you.  This day it was definetly there.  Not too many places to hide a fetus on my bag of bones. 

With me is my bff, Audrey (left), who is 15 weeks pregnant.  Audrey and I’s bday are two weeks apart and our babies bdays will be 6 weeks apart.  That will be a neat story for them to tell when they get married.  They really hit it off when we pressed our bellies together.

PS- Why do people think we look like sisters?  We’ve been asked that more than once.  Weirdos.

Heart Beat of a Champion September 24, 2009

http://www.facebook.com/v/129709048334

Cheater Cheater Pumpkin Eater September 27, 2009

What would you do if your spouse cheated on you?  I can’t say this is the best idea but I’d be lying if I said that there wasn’t some part in me that wants to raise my fist and yell “YEAH” when I see this picture. 

I’m not sure if this was written by someone who is always this bold or by a woman that just went crazy.  Putting a moving billboard about your husband’s adultery on your family van is a whole new level of “I hate your guts.  You deserve this.”  Oh the things people do in a passionate rage.  Both affairs and adultery vans would apply to that statement I suppose.

I have to say that this would be my worst fear for my marriage.  I was cheated on several times in a long term relationship and it about did me in.  I went emotionally crazy during that time and I would’ve really liked to write a message on my car like that.  I would’ve liked to do more emotionally unstable things than that actually.  I can’t imagine it happening to me in a committed marriage.

Tonight on ABC there was a special on adultery.  1 in 4 married men cheat and 1 in 3 married women cheat.  Shockingly, the scientist speaking said even the infamous monogamous swans cheat.  Can we not even spare the birds?!! 

There was even a man on the special that said that, “Adultery saves marriages.”  Below is his commercial for the website he runs where millions of married people go to find people to cheat with:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U8gJzecN_Ho

It represents itself as a dating service for married people.  The guy who invented the site says he doesn’t date outside of his marriage and that this is nothing more than a site providing a service for profit.  Well at least he has integrity.

A Life Heard September 30, 2009

It’s odd to think about but in the lists of our favorite things you most likely have your favorite sounds.  One of mine would be the sound of my little brothers and sisters voices when I open their front door and they yell my name when they see me.  I know it’s temporary because one by one on a day far too soon they will be much to cool to yell my name in excitement publicly or privately.  I savor it every time.

Another sound would be the sound of real wood crackling in a fire place.  The convience of gas logs robbed the world of the character and comfort of a real fire burning in a real fireplace.  convenience always causes us to lose character and the quality of what you had before it was simplified.  Sort of like how a dinner made from scratch is always better than a dinner where the ingredients came from a can.  In the same way, cheap looking gas logs with fake ashes never quite give you the warmth or comfort of a real fire smoldering in front of you.  You miss the sounds, the smells, and the intensity of its heat.    All my life I grew up in a house with a REAL fireplace and my dad would build winter fires and I would sleep in the silence on the couch with only the sound of crackling logs breaking the stillness.  I really miss that sound.  Especially when I smell the smoke of an outdoor fire in the cold winter air.  I’d trade a  key to turn on fake logs for hauling real logs into my house, any day of the week.

Thirdly my favorite sound would have to be the sound of my father singing hymns at church.  He doesn’t have an especially good or special voice.  Maybe that makes me love it even more because he sings loudly and unashamedly.  When I hear my dad standing next to me or around me in a church service singing a song like “It Is Well With My Soul”, I feel so blessed.  When I hear my dad’s voice trumpeting over mine it’s like I’m listening to the sound of a summation of who he is, of how I was raised, of how he proverbially sang the meanings of these songs over me my whole life.  I simply feel grateful.  Grateful that he was my dad.  Exceedingly more grateful because he believes those words.  It’s effected every aspect of my life.  I fully believe that what you do AND don’t believe defines everything about the choices you make.  I am so glad that these are the songs he sang over me when I dated the wrong boy.  His song when I was broken hearted.  The tune when I wrecked my car in college and he drove me 3 hours to Lance’s school on a week night and slept in a dorm room so I could go to a dance with my future husband.  It’s the melody to every fight we had, every choice he made, everything he gave up, and every time he didn’t back down.  In the end, I was always left with how he lead me as a father.  I can write this because he was a godly man.  To some people that is ridiculous but to me it was my saving grace.  My father quit a thriving, well paying job where he was only a few people from the top of a large company to move back home after my parents divorce so that he could be with his children.  He chose unemployment at an age when men when would fear such a state because he believed fatherhood was more important and that he was called to be a father before a business man and because he knew the Lord would provide for him.  It was well with his soul and I heard it in his voice then and I heard in his voice sitting one row behind me this Sunday morning. 

I am thankful that in a humble home in Hogenville, Ky. that a small little boy was born on the floor of his house with his aunt as the delivering doctor.  I’m thankful that when they didn’t have the money or the medicine that the Lord allowed him to survive it all anyways.  I’m thankful that as an adult one day he knew that he was in need of the Lord and that he wrapped his life up in it.  Ten years later, I’m glad that birth control failed and that I was born to that sweet man and mother anyways.  I love how all of those things came to play in my life and I’m glad that I see and hear it all around me.

Wether it’s popping charred pine logs, the sounds of little elated children, or the shakey voice of a good man, I’m thankful for a life that plays me a daily song of the love and simple joys the Lord has blessed me with.  More than that, I’m thankful to know that if it all ended tomorrow that I could say “It Is Well With My Soul” all because the Lord gave me a father who taught me the meaning of the songs he sings and helped them to become my songs by living them out. 

Praise the Lord.

It is well with my soul.

Doobie Loungin’ October 1, 2009

I speak these words carefully because I know how vicious cat haters can be.  However, as of late, my good man Bonkers has been expressing his animal instincts by stretching his long arms and talons on our dry wall.  Stretching is okay but he utilizes his talons in a scratching motion and drags his paws down the wall peeling away the paint.  Don’t judge him! Scratching is  an instinct that felines have to sharpen their finger blades and to mark their scent on whatever they scratch.  So when I’m done spanking his little striped behind that is found just below his cute lemur tail, I think to myself, “Those are the marks of a cat that says…see ya later suckers…this house is mine.”  Aww it’s like a violent love letter to say, “I love you mom this many scratches worth.”

But still, there are better ways for him to make me feel his love so I purchased Skittles and Bonkers an acceptable scratching device.  It’s this cardboard thing for cats that is in the shape of a sofa which we all can appreciate.  I brought it home and hoped that we wouldn’t have a repeat of  the crinkly cube tube that I bought for them last year.  I purchased it out of love, not need, and I was so sad because I kept having to throw them inside the crinkle cube and they just kept running out.  I ended up having to take it back to Walmart and I couldn’t fold it back up correctly so I had to awkwardly carry it in and tell them that my kitties had rejected the device.  As you can see, I had great concerns for the cardboard kitten sofa.  It was 16 dollars which was also a feature that made it feel risky. 

So I get home and rip open the feline gift and lay it on the floor.  Immediately the culprit approaches the couch and sinks his claws into this new toy of mystery.  SUCCESS!  Then I realized that their sofa came with catnip which is basically cat weed.  But hey, nothing wrong with your cat doing pot.  Not illegal.  Not in this house.  Not for these cats.  I really wanted them to partake in catnip but you can’t force these things.  They have to happen on their own.

I ripped the bag open and sprinkled it on the couch as directed and waited.  But not too long because apparently Bonkers is a closet stoner.  He sniffed.  He purred.  He rolled around in it over and over and fell asleep.  Bonkers loves his weed couch and I can’t keep him away.  Skittles tried to get on the couch today and Bonkers beat her up for it.  At first I felt really happy for my cats and the doobie sofa.  Now I know that drugs rip families apart.

 

 

 Bonkers on his weed couch with his stash in front of him.  I wish I could say that I put that bag there but he pulls it out from under his sofa when I hide it there.

Brotherly Wishes October 4, 2009

Sweet and sincere words from my 7 year old brother on my birthday.  This was my birthday card that wasn’t actually a card but a sealed envelope with the message on the back.  In his mind, there is nothing sweeter than wishing 3 babies upon me. 

When She Was Ours October 6, 2009

I remember trying to lay her down for a nap with me. Her fidgeting would become more still and she would start whispering to me less and less. I never opened my eyes to look at her because for some reason she would just stare at me until she feel asleep and giving her the eye contact to shoot me that little toothy grin would give her enough fuel to stay awake for at least another fifteen minutes. Eventually though, the room would turn totally silent and still and I’d think to myself, “Ahhh, she’s finally asleep.” Right about then I’d feel tiny fingertips on the ends of my eye lashes, pulling my eye lids open to see that little grin I was trying to avoid about half an hour ago. She was such a precious girl.

I know why people fear trying to adopt because I loved a little girl like this once. Once you’ve seen the face of someone like this, it haunts you in the bittersweetest of ways.

The first night she came to our house, I’m assuming she was brought to my mom by the social worker. She showed up in dainty, pink flannel floral pajamas and she just sort of teetered around with a smile sizing us all up. The social worker said that the ease in which she left her mother and the ease in which she meandered around our home lets them know that removing her was the best thing for her. As she confidently, yet meekly walked about we all sort of just stared at her and waited for her next move. She came up to me and ate bites of my Oreo pie from Burger King. That was the first thing we ever shared. That night was the first time I became a big sister and it filled me with that one time feeling that only first experiences can. This two and 1/2 year old, big brown-eyed, curly-haired little person practically showed up on our doorstep one night. We loved her for almost a year to her face. Forever from a distance.

About 11 months later, after months and months of watching her explore the world and work her way into our family and our hearts, I stood in a kitchen in Illinois calling home to my mom from vacation to speak to Madison. My mom sounded upset and went on to tell me that “they” would be coming to take Madison back to her mother that day. I wouldn’t get to say goodbye. I wouldn’t get to see her again. Vividly I can see myself standing alone in that kitchen trying to hide my shaking voice and sniffles as we had our last little conversation there about animals I had just seen at the zoo. Thankfully, it wasn’t the last time I we talked. We had a few short weeks left after I returned home Chicago and I’m so thankful for those irreplaceable days.

I dreaded that last moment with her. It’s a hard thing to love a child. A harder thing to go to see them, knowing you would lose them. Knowing you had loved them. Knowing where they were going and knowing the kind of misfortune and struggle she would have going back into the home she came from.

I never told her she wouldn’t see me again. She was so young and life was already so hard that I couldn’t imagine making her any more fearful or anxious than her tiny 3 1/2 year old mind already was.

Ironically, the last thing I did was put her down for a nap. I sat on the bed that she was sleeping in. It was the same bed my mother slept in as a little girl and the same one that was in my childhood room. I told her I loved her and made sure I didn’t cry until I knew she was asleep. I wanted those last moments to be sweet and normal like they had been all that time.  I sat on top of that bed and rubbed her little arms and watched her sleep. The tears rolled off my face and on to her hands while I felt the overwhelming love and concern I had for her and I grieved. I don’t know at what point I decided to walk away. It’s hard to let a moment like that go. Hard to let a child like that go. Even more so when I knew where she was going but I did. I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me and that was the last time I spent with her.

As hard as it was for me, I knew it would be harder still for my mom. Afterall she thought we would adopt her and that she would become ours. She spent every moment with her, raising her, trying to make at least the life she had with us worthwhile. I wasn’t there when my mom said goodbye and I’m glad that I wasn’t. When my mom told me how the story went, I felt it hard enough that I couldn’t fathom being present.

Madison’s young biological mom pulled into my mother’s driveway. Madison knew she was going back to live with mommy and even though she was unsure, she was willing because every child desires their mom, no matter how unfit. Madison hugged my mom and told her she loved her and then her biological mom put her into her car seat. Madison’s mom walked over to my mom and hugged her and my mom cried. Losing a child in any capacity is such a deep and permanent loss. We sent Madison with a scrapbook to remember her life with us and so that she could remember our faces but that would be up to the mother to keep us alive and why would she if she could hide the experience of foster care.  One that Madison would soon forget with age. The pain in loving a child is greater when you know that they will only live in your mind, not in theirs.

As my mom cried, Madison’s mom teared up too. Everyone involved knew they were starting on a journey. One mother mourning, one mother nervously trying to be the mom she should’ve been almost 4 years ago.

As they stood there on the driveway together, Madison somehow wiggled out of her car seat and came over to my teary mom. She sweetly hugged her and patted her back and said, “Don’t worry Joan-y. I be back.” They climbed into the car and pulled away.

She couldn’t have known what she was saying because she was only 6 months past 3. But still, in the place where I carry that momentary sweet sister in my heart, I’ve always hoped she was right.

         

I saw Madison at a Red Lobster off the interstate 6 months after we lost her when her mom agreed to meet me there.  She remembered me and that was the last time I ever saw or heard from them again.  I’ve had a picture of her up in my house every single day since the day we lost her.  Madison turned 12 this August.

Because I love you that’s why October 8, 2009

I’m about to alienate a lot of my readers with something irrelevant to half the world and therefore, boring to many. BUT to some, my friend, this could possibly be a dream come true.

This baby hasn’t made me barf in about three weeks. Raise the roof! But, even when I don’t hurl, I’m still having a hard time brushing my tongue. This is unfortunate because tongue brushing is the only way to a clean mouth feel and to that important stink free mouth air. This morning I was a brishy brushing and gagged 2 times. Two times is about my limit before I barf. Well the second, or dreaded third dry heave, I burped. We all know what that means. It means your stomach just tried to barf and air came up first. A few more pumps from the old involuntary muscle spasms and you are looking at the applesauce and fruit punch you just wasted in the sink. I stood there and hoped it would pass but no, no, no. It was too late.

Well, that was about 12 hours ago and it’s time to brush my teeth for the night. I started to head to the sink and I said, “No way. This is too risky.” So I did what I always do. I googled how to keep from gagging when brushing. Believe it or not, there was a step-by-step list of how not to gag during throat cultures, teeth brushing etc. on ehow.com. Below are the steps to take to avoid gagging. If you are a gagger, hopefully, this will change your embarassing uncontrollable vomitous ways.

Step 1: Open your mouth wide when your doctor puts the swab in (or when you brush your tongue), and lightly but rapidly pant, just like an overheated dog. It’s almost impossible to gag while you’re panting. Light panting is the key – it keeps you from panicking and keeps your strep germs out of the doctor’s face. (And if you’re pregnant, barf in your belly. I wrote this parenthesis part.  You can tell because it has personality.)

Step 2- Continue lightly panting until the swab has been completed – and thank your doctor for his/her help! ( I didn’t write the thank your doctor part because that’s stupid.)

Those are the steps. I am now going to brush my teeth and give you an update. Please stand by…..

(Elevator music)

I’m back. You may have noticed that I didn’t play elevator music while you waited.  That was a trick.  It was gansta rap and I was afraid you would leave if I told you the truth ahead of time. 

So I brushed. 

I panted. 

No one can save us now.  Godspeed.

15 October 13, 2009

You take a deep breath and you walk through the doors Its the morning of your very first day

you say hi to your friends you aint seen in a while

Try and stay out of everybodys way

its your freshman year and youre gonna be here for the next four years in this town

hoping one of those senior boys will wink at you and say you know I havent seen you around, before

Cause when youre fifteen and somebody tells you they love you youre gonna believe them and when youre fifteen

feeling like there nothing to figure out

well count to ten, take it in this is life before you know who youre gonna be

fifteen

You sit in class next to a redhead named Abigail and soon enough youre best friends

laughing at the other girls who think theyre so cool well be out of here as soon as we can

and then youre on your very first date and hes got a car and youre feeling like flying

and youre momas waiting up and you think hes the one and youre dancing round your room when the night end

when the night ends 

 Cause when youre fifteen and somebody tell you they love you youre gonna believe them

when youre fifteen and your first kiss makes your head spin round

but in your life youll do greater than dating the boy on the football team

but I didnt know it at

fifteen

When all you wanted was to be wanted wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now

Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday but I realized some bigger dreams of mine

and Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind and we both cried

Cause when youre fifteen and somebody tells you they love you youre gonna believe them and when youre fifteen, dont forget to look before you fall

Ive found that time can heal most anything and you just might find who youre supposed to be I didnt know who I was supposed to be at

fifteen

Youre very first day take a deep breath girl

take a deep breath as you walk through those doors.

- Taylor Swift

I love this song and I relate to it so much! It actually gives me chills.  I played it for Lance and he acted like it was so, so.  I said, “Ugh! You were never a teenage girl in highschool!” Then I walked out.  Really put him in his place because he was surprised to learn that he wasn’t ever a teenage female.

one liners plus a few other sentences October 14, 2009

I can’t handle unwrapping a package of cinnamon rolls or biscuits. Waiting for the package to burst unexpectedly is like a horrifying, suspenseful, adult jack in the box.

Why don’t foreigners sing with their accents? What happens to it when they hold out long words melodically?

When I text, my predictive text for the word “care” comes up as barf first.  So, if I ever text you that I don’t barf where we go,  you know what I mean.

If there was a public place where everyone could go and press their naked butt to, would you go and do it too? Exactly. That’s a public restroom. I rest my case.

When you tell someone a baby name and they say, “Oh I know a baby named that.”  It seems like an insult to someone who wants a creative or more orignal name but my friend pointed out it’s just the opposite.  If someone tells you a common name like Sarah, you never say, “I know a Sarah!”  That’s because if you said that it would be like….duh.  But if you say, “I would like you to meet my baby Jebadiah.”  Someone feels compelled to say that they know one of those because not everyone has that name. 

On the subject of baby names, google “social security popular names” and you can see how popular your name or babies names are in the past 5 years.  You can even do it to where you see how many babies were born with that name on a particular year.  It’s true.  There were 18,000-ish Rebeccas in 1982.

One of the funniest things I’ve ever heard is a comedian talking about being at his mother’s funeral.  He was trying to think of something funny to say to break the ice and tension when people gave their condolences.  When people came up to him and said, “I’m so sorry.”  He said, “Not as sorry as I am.”

When I text the word kitten into my phone my cell gives me the word litter first.  Kitten and litter coming from the same buttons?  coincidence?  No way.

One of the most annoying things my husband does is blame me being angry at him on something exterior.  Usually he says, “Someone needs a nap.”  It doesn’t matter if I woke up from winter hibernation.  I would still need a nap.  You’re right Lance, when you ignored what I said three times and just kept staring at the TV when I was trying to get you to help me, it wasn’t you being annoying! I just got really sleepy.

My cat, Bonkers, has a problem with biting my toes.  I read on the internet that if you firmly but gently hold their heads down, hiss in their face, and walk away, then they will learn to quit.  I would never do that though. (nervous smile)

It’s interesting that white people talking like black people is funny but black people talking like white people isn’t as funny.  Wait a second….maybe they think it is.  Nevermind, black people are way cooler than us and would never sit around talking like white people.

Pregnancy is turning my body into one big mustache.

Far From Here October 19, 2009

I will never forget the first time I met them.  The vans pulled up and about 20-40 African refugees piled out of the vans and into our church.  They came in knowing little, if any, English and some of them would just come up to you and smile.  They would just stand there.  They wanted to talk but they didn’t know the language so they just smiled.  One man, father of 8, gave us a sheet of paper to write words on and he would just try to replicate the letters over and over.  Another group of people stood by the big windows and watched the sky spit mysterious cold white stuff they had never seen before.  The translator tried to explain what snow was and he interpreted it as white rain.  They were fascinated.  Watching them was like watching a child at Christmas.  I was as amazed by them as they were our white rain.

I’m telling you that I’ve never seen children who were so content and happy as the kids I met that night.  I’ve never seen a group of people as sincerely happy, period.  Even though I’ve known some of these kids for over a year now, there is still a notable difference in their joy when you compare them to American kids.  In Africa you help your family.  You live as a community.  Your life is simple.  You can’t be spoiled because there is nothing to spoil you with.  You don’t fear work at any age.  Furthermore, you don’t complain about it.  There is a respect for your elders.  There is happiness found in dancing and singing and not toys and video games.  As much as other smaller and underdeveloped countries envy America, I think they have the real things in better perspective than we do.

The night I met all of these wonderful people, they all came in wearing mismatched clothes.  Old shoes that clashed with their unfashionable outifts and purses that were grocery bags.  They had no self-consciousness that they should even be embarrassed by how they looked because in their world, clothes for anything other than practical need didn’t make sense.  You had one or two shirts and a skirt or pair of pants and you had your wardrobe.  Busting closets with coordinating outfits and shoes to match doesn’t even exist in their world.  They don’t see the purpose. 

I gave one of the women a used purse looking diaper bag to replace her grocery bags.  She was so thrilled.   Every time I saw her after that day, she was carrying that bag.  It was a cute bag but it was used and the leather had been scratched.  Josephine acted like it was a priceless designer bag.  I wish I could be that excited to have something used and damaged.  I’m not better for my desire of perfect things.  When I look at all of these people though, it’s not that they just choose not to be materialistic.  It’s almost like the don’t know the mindset exists.  Sure, I’m sure they envy other people’s huts or cattle in their villages…things that are relevant to them.  But caring whether or not your clothes are fashionable or even a good fit, doesn’t even occur to them.

There is a sweet little girl named Vioni that comes to our church every night with her two brothers.  She wears flip flops and a big baggy t-shirt with a fancy over sized Christmas dress over her shirt.  I’m sure someone’s old dress that they donated to Goodwill.  She will walk in totally unaware that her clothes are sub par by our society.  Totally unaware that other children don’t wear pajama shirts with black velvet dresses.  I watch her sometimes and I think, “When you go to school, don’t let these kids convince you that you are lacking. Don’t let them tell you that there is something wrong with being confident in all the things that are culture says should be embarrassing.”  My fear is that she will begin to have her eyes opened to how we do things here.  Cause see Vioni, in America we buy clothes not to cover our bodies but to cover our pride.  We buy clothes so that we have enough pairs to clothe your family several times over but we choose not to wear everything we have because some of our things are out dated or faded.

It’s impossible to watch that content little girl and think we have something that she should desire.  Our tendency is to want to clothe children like that and fit them into our box. We pity her and think that she is so unfortunate but she is totally happy.  We only feel that way because we are American, because we lack what she has.  She isn’t being deprived of anything.  Her needs are met.  Honestly, at the core of our pity is the truth that we prize nice things.  Her only deprivation is fashion and what a shame to pity that.  There, of course, is an element of wanting to protect her from mean children who may laugh at her for her old clothes so we want to give her nice things to blend in.  If giving her new outfits will change her priorities, change the way she validates what’s important in life, then let them laugh and let her have character.  I’m so afraid that she will think that we have it right and that she will start to live a life of finding confidence in possessions and exterior things.  Save your money sweet child.  You have what all the bludging closet Americans are searching for.  

Vioni lives in the projects.  She isn’t surrounded by kids with designer clothes.  Children with a million outfits.  But even on Welfare the American way to chase after ”desirable” things persists.  It persists because you can’t get away from dissatisfaction or envy in any village on any corner of the world. Those things don’t happen because of socioecnomic status but out of our humanity.  But no matter how human, cultures differ and therefore, so do priorioties and mindsets.  That said, there are plenty of things  that we wealthy Americans can learn from people who have nothing by our standards.  You can find these things in thatch and mud built huts that make villages where people really are neighbors.  Where family isn’t just who lives in your house.  A place where people are so genuine and sincerely loving that they will come up and smile in your face comfortably, even if they don’t have the words.  Far from here there is a place where snowflakes are fairytales and Kroger bags are designer luggage.  As she dances round a world that doesn’t know the joy she has ,in a velvet Christmas dress, I pray she never forgets where she came from.

Stanky Leggin’ October 19, 2009

(May I suggest utilizing the videos with their audio on for full enjoyment.)

When I was in 8th grade I use to do Da Dip when my dad drove me around.  Occasionally, I might throw in the butterfly or the Macerena.  In high school, I did dances that I wish not to speak of.  Last night, in 2009, you could’ve found me driving my dad and teenage girl around doing da stanky leg.  Many of you may need to watch a short clip to experience the stanky leg.  I only watched 49 seconds of this video so I’m not responsible for anything that might unpredictably happen after that.  I feel it’s probably only some more dance moves but take your chances as you wish.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJDsQobM0Ao

How I can do that and drive is none of your concern.  There are simplified ways to do this dance that involve less buttocks.  There are many ways to do the stanky leg so that everyone feels at ease.  Even you can do the stanky leg. 

My dad said, “I can’t believe my 27 year-old pregnant daughter is driving me around doing the stanky leg.”  He says it with a smile because he knew I was born to be stanky.  Afterall, my dad and I moved all the furniture out of the living room and took turns doing the M.C. Hammer to Vanilla Ice when I was kid.  What could he expect from me?  Turn from my ways?  Ridiculous.

I told my dad.  Not only would his children do the stanky leg, but his children’s, children.  I would expect nothing less than a child who could shake their legs in such a manner.  I will teach them modest ways to get their shake on.  I will start them young with children’s shows introducing the methods.  Again, only the first 40 seconds or so are necessary.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HI8bTFID-a4

Simple really.  In about 2 years I’ll post a video of my kid doing the dance of the  moment.  Maybe a video of the whole family.  Brings a tear to my eye…..

whew October 22, 2009

Today was awful and great all at once. I went to the doctor and after 10 minutes of not being able to pick up a heartbeat, she sent me down to have an ultrasound. Her sympathy scared me and I was terrified. I had to walk through the office and hospital crying by myself until family came and it was not an enjoyable experience. It was the longest wait. Lance came and my sister and her kids, and my sister in law so I didn’t have to stay alone. They were there for the ultrasound. As soon as they touched my stomach with the ultrasound the baby started moving, punching, kicking, and rolling. Instant tears for us all and sigh of relief. I am so grateful because I know how common miscarriages are. Here are the pictures of our baby. The baby my mother-in-law said she is gonna spank it when it comes out because of our little scare. Everything is totally fine. 14 weeks this Saturday. They told us what they thought the baby was but we are waiting for our 4d ultrasound a week from Monday before we do any announcements. Praise the Lord for this baby and keeping it safe!

  

Afterbirth October 26, 2009

I watched my sister’s labor today. It was waaayyyy less eventful than I pictured it. No screaming…nothing crazy. She pushed for less than a half an hour and then there was this little blue, bloody boy being held up in the air by the doctor.

Here’s what I learned about labor:

I had no idea that they raise your bed up in the air above a sitting person’s head. It was like she was on a fork lift.

I didn’t know that they used cathaters. That looks like “cat haters”. I don’t know how you spell that and it’s funny so I’ll leave it be.

Most importantly, I didn’t know how bloody it was. It was unreal to me. Moreover, I didn’t know it was bloody BEFORE the baby even comes out. I had no clue. I mean it was impressive more than scary but I had no idea.

Lastly, placentas look exactly like blue pot roasts and it really catches you off guard when you walk by the table and it’s just sitting there in the open in a dish. It was a disgusting sort of amazing that never needs to be seen by my eyes again.

That’s my full report.

I’m really glad I did it and I’m not expecting my labor to be as easy as it was for her. Still comforting to see that it can be not as big a deal as people make it out to be, screaming on TV. Bring on April 24th. I’m educated and ready!

I’m attaching a video link of the baby for my family so that they can see the little guy. He’s really sweet. He was also a haus cat, 8 pounds, 11 ounces-21 inches.

This little guy is like Bonkers…a really good man.

http://www.facebook.com/v/158173553334

14 weeks October 27, 2009

14 weeks up in ya face! Big announcement of what we’re having on Monday! You will barely be able to sleep in anticipation!!!

October 28, 2009

When I went to New York City, I realized how many things I love about home. A lot of people, majority waiters that I met, seemed so arrogant to be from “the city” and that being from Kentucky was laughable. I mean, I do realize the KY stereotype but clearly, that wasn’t us and surely, it would make someone think that maybe they are wrong about the state but whatever. We had this one particular dude wait on us at a restaurant in Time Square who was particularly too proud to be from NYC. He told us he went to Kentucky once to help a friend sell their family farm and of course, he was heavily sarcastic. He said there was nothing to do there and that essentially it would be a nightmare to be from a small town like that.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love big cities. I’d rather visit a city than a beach. 3 of my last 4 vacations have been Vegas, Chicago, and NYC. But I’m telling you that I didn’t know how much I appreciated living in a town like mine until I visited the massive beast that is “THE city”! The pace is unreal. Trees and grass are nowhere to be found. The horn honking is incessant. If there is anything I didn’t get about the city is why people honk all the time. Honking without accomplishing a purpose in NYC is about as common as saying “yall” in the south. One won’t keep you up at night. It was an experience like no other. I love the culture. The character. The famous things to see but I wouldn’t trade a life there for a life here. Maybe a vacation, not a life. As sure as I say that, I know there are a million adamant others who say just the opposite.

I remember coming home after the trip and sitting on a deck at a restaurant and watching in awe at the pace of local traffic. I couldn’t believe the silence of the cars. I couldn’t believe how beautiful it was here. Trees lining the streets. People that say “excuse me”. I know my experience is confined to 1 week among the tourist attractions and that NY isn’t all this way or its people for that matter. Heck, there are even farms in New York! But based upon my short visitor’s glimpse, I couldn’t imagine a life of concrete, horns, and crowds of brisk walking people.

A few weeks ago I was on a two lane road a little ways out from my hometown on my way to a quaint little diner. The traffic on the two lane is usually around 60 but we were going SO slow and no one was passing this big lane of cars in front of us. Then I looked across the two lane to the other side of on coming traffic and people were stopping their cars and pulling over. What was happening? Then I realized that I was behind a funeral processional. People weren’t speeding because they wanted to stay behind the grievers. People were stopping in traffic or pulling over, like they always do in the south, to pay their respects to the deceased. I love that more than Broadway shows and 5 dollar Fiji waters with my 60 dollar plate of dinner. A short while later we passed a man standing on the side of the road by his produce stand and he walked to the side of lane and took his hat off and put it over his chest until the line of 20 cars passed. I’ve never been more thankful for a town where grass and trees aren’t found confined in parks and where strangers honor each other, say “yes maam” and “yes sir”, even if it’s with a deep southern drawl. We have a lot to offer too. This isn’t a battle cry against the booming metropolises of the world, but a love song for the south…. my favorite.

48 Hours Mystery October 31, 2009

Monday afternoon I will post my next blog identifying the gender and name of  the infamous baby-o-saur.  Prepare yourself for pure joy and uncontrollable anticipation followed by laughter and a nice long nap.