not quite a nuclear disaster

Several events mark 1986 as an important year in history:
Challenger Explosion
Chernobyl Nuclear Disaster
Iran Contra Scandal (Who can forget Oliver North?)
Haley’s Comet
Hands Across America
Statue of Liberty's 100th Anniversary

Somewhere in the midst of that, another event occurred. Lasting 32 hours, this event was so monumental I will never forget where I was when it happened. I will never forget how I felt, who was with me, nor my feelings before, during and after.

Several months prior to this monumental event, my husband and I left the “Lower 48” and moved 4,200 miles away to Anchorage, Alaska where he would serve his tour of duty at Fort Richardson. We had a going-away party with our families, and as we were leaving my mother screamed out these final parting words . . . “Don’t you go and get pregnant!”

I didn’t MEAN to. Really. But “the pill” and I were not good friends. Frankly, she made me sick. And cranky. And, well, after a few months, I gave up trying to make our relationship work.

Enter military work hours: Month gone. Weekend home. Month gone again.

If the FBI were to interrogate me under bright lights with toothpicks holding my eyes open and ask, “What happened on the night of November 9, 1985?” Well, duh. That’s a no-brainer. Remember? Month gone. Weekend home. Month gone again.

Barely 22 and a baby on the way.

Having two “doula births” in May and talking with the moms always brings up those first-time pregnancy memories for me. Those months of walking every day, no caffeine, prenatal vitamins, swollen ankles, childbirth books, unending questions, and dreading the unknown.

So, in the late summer of 1986, I gave birth to my baby girl, after 32 hours of difficult back labor. To this day, my daughter still claims, “the harder the birth, the better the kid.” Not sure I can agree with her on that completely, but I’m sure glad (for once) I didn’t heed my mother’s instructions.

i choose to think of it as a genius flaw

Okay, I have this “quirk” in my brain. I have a hard time “seeing” certain things . . . like how to use a sewing pattern, or how to correctly miter corners, (trust me, the inability to properly miter corners becomes an issue at least once a decade), or these horrendous IQ test problems:

Which solid could you make by folding the pattern on the dotted lines?









Uh . . . E. a Chinese take-out box?

Apparently I have “mental rotation” and “spatial relation” issues. I choose to think of it as another “genius flaw”, much like wearing my shirt inside-out all day long. Only much more frustrating. Much, much more.

When Kevin was in-utero, I was sewing this snuggly-thing for him. Basically it was a fleece wrap with feet, wings and . . . a hood. I TRIED to follow the pattern. Really, I did. But after sewing the hood on backwards at least 3 times, I gave up. Then at 35 weeks pregnant, I had to put myself on bedrest. (The frustration with the snuggly and the bedrest are supposedly unrelated . . . I have my doubts.)

Anyway, after a week on bedrest, my nesting instinct got the best of me and I just HAD to vacuum the house and FINISH that stupid snuggly which had been spread out on my kitchen table the entire time. Vacuuming, I am happy to say, went just fine. Sewing however, did not. After multiple times of attaching the hood in various incorrect ways, I yelped a scream of attack, much, I imagine, like a Pygmy warrior battle cry, and threw a spool of thread against the wall. (This is, VERY UN-ME-like.) My husband came in to console me and then asked, “You want me to finish it for you?”

Finish it FOR me?!?!?! NO! This is a matter of principle! A matter of pride! A matter of doggone-it-I’m-an-intelligent-human-being-and-I-am-capable-of-sewing-a-stupid-hood-on-a-baby-snuggly!!! Besides, he had never even used a sewing machine before. So . . . I said “SURE!” knowing he would mess it up and see how hard it was!

He sat down to the Singer, put his foot to the pedal, and zapped that sucker right on the first time. Took him all of 45 seconds.

It’s hard to be grateful and furious at the same time.

Labor started a couple of hours later, so grateful won out.

vehicular homicide and carnapping

I am not a car person. By that, I mean I don't know anything about them. Don't care to. Don't notice what other people drive. Don't care what I drive as long as it doesn't embarrass me . . . and has a/c and a cd player. :o)


Kevie-poo has been driving for some 10 weeks now. He does not like driving. Neither does my daughter. I don't get it. I really like driving. I love road trips. I want to be the one behind the wheel. The cowboy says it's because I'm a control freak. I think it's because my brain is so used to multi-tasking I don't know what to do with myself when I am in passenger-mode. Anyway . . . I credit Kevin's lack of enthusiasm for driving to two factors: 1) He is driving my green Taurus, not exactly the coolest car on the block, and 2) I don't allow him to listen to music during this training phase. And since Kevin is all about the tunes, he would rather I drive so he can jam.

All this blogging about cool cars reminds me of my first car: A red 'vette. Seriously. Was given to me when I was 19. (Hey, didn't Prince sing a song about that?)

She was pretty.
Two-door.
Gray interior.
Keyless ignition.
Dull paint job.
Used more oil than gas.
Cool hatchback.

Oh, did you think "CORvette"? I meant "CHEvette". The best thing about it was if you pedalled really hard, you could hit 55 going downhill, just like the Flintstones! And the keyless ignition just meant it was so worn out that you could start it just by turning the ignition-thingy. Which, being a college student, was kinda handy because I didn't have to carry around my keys with me.

However, once my guy friends at the student center discovered this quirky little issue about my 'vette I started "losing" my car. Or rather, they started "stealing" my car and hiding it in various places around campus. So, I would leave class on a rainy day, run to the parking lot to jump in my car only to find . . . no car. Well, lots of cars, actually . . . just not mine! So, there I would stand in the middle of campus, looking very Sissy-Spacek-in-Carrie-like (just soaked in rain, not pig's blood), pitifully wondering which direction to go to start looking for my lost little vehicle.

Nothing quite like practical jokes and good friends.

stories collide

Story #1
A few months ago my daughter was coming home for the first time since her wedding. We were doing quite a bit of texting about where we were going to eat out and what dvd’s were going to “make the cut” for our weekend viewing. We really only had time for 2 or 3 plus a couple of Gilmore Girls episodes thrown in for good measure.

Now, to fully appreciate the relationship my daughter and I have, you have to understand that we are two very independent women connected by one brain, one heart, an appreciation for support bras, and a list of 325 movies. Movie watching is like breathing, and to be honest, movie heckling is part of the fun as well. Most people would HATE watching movies with the two of us. (We do, however, realize this and do our best to be on “good behavior” when watching movies with others or in the theater!)

Story #2
A friend’s daughter was getting married the same weekend Kacey was planning to come home. Though this young lady and her boyfriend had been together for some time, the wedding was a quick decision. I had told my friend I would like to speak to her daughter about her decision to get married, as there was a concern I had and wanted to be certain she was taking this step for all the right reasons.

My friend encouraged me to speak with her daughter about her marriage plans.

Stories #1 and #2 collide:
So Kacey’s list of potential weekend movies arrived to my cell phone, minus her very favorite, “Love Actually”. (Hey, any movie that combines Hugh Grant and Liam Neeson deserves frequent viewing.)

I texted: love actually is not there (knowing my daughter would understand that her favorite movie was not included on the list.)

My friend received: love actually is not there and rightfully concluded that I thought her daugher did not love the man she was planning to marry! My friend quickly responded to assure me they were confident their daughter was, indeed, in love.

I quickly scrolled through my “sent” texts. After gasping, and then laughing, at my missent text, I immediately dialed her number and explained to her that “ ‘Love Actually’ is not there” was a text intended for my daughter about her movie choices and NOT about HER daughter’s marriage choices!

Oh, I love my cell phone. And Hugh Grant. But that's another blog.

saddles, cell phones and the futility of ironing

Yesterday the cowboy totalled his truck and horse-trailer in northern Florida. He is okay, except that he has a mini-van rental to bring home saddles, luggage and such in. He called to complain that "cowboys" don't drive mini-vans. He is really going to miss his pretty black pickup. Of course we just got it paid off last month . . . isn't that just the way it goes!?

Several people asked if he was going to continue on to Ocala to compete this weekend. My only response to that is, "Do you KNOW my husband????" Of course he is going on to compete. He is staying in a motel instead of the trailer, and he is having to eat out every meal since all of his groceries, plus the fridge and microwave were destroyed in the rollover. So . . . this is going to turn out to be a much more expensive trip than he planned.

I bought the very un-techy cowboy a Go Phone before he left so he would have a way to keep me updated about the competition. I don't want to say he complained about my purchasing the phone, but he made it known that it was NOT his idea to get the cell phone. He called me SEVEN times yesterday. Not to mention all the calls he made to the insurance company, the car rental agency, the Mustang Makeover coordinators, etc. I think, in retrospect, he might actually appreciate the phone. :o)

Okay, so here's the real kicker in this whole process. Before he left I washed and IRONED his competition shirts. Yes, I said IRONED. There are two of them, and they are white with embroidered insignia all over them. Oh, and did I mention they are COTTON? And that I IRONED them? You have to understand, I don't iron. Ever. That's why God created Downy Wrinkle Release Spray and the "fluff" setting on the dryer. When I bought an iron for Kacey before she went to college, she had to ask me what it was. Oh, the sarcasm. So, anyway . . . those beautiful, crisp, white, wrinkle-free cotton shirts ended up crumpled under shards of broken glass and busted cans of food, thus reinforcing the futility of ironing in the first place.

So . . . it's competition time. "Break a leg"! No, let me rephrase that. "Knock 'em dead!" No, you almost did that too . . . well, anyway, good luck with the horse show. Though I am sure there are infinitely better things to do in Ocala.

if John Hancock can do it . . .

Only two people signed the Declaration of Independence on July 4, 1776: John Hancock and Charles Thomson. Most of the rest signed on August 2, but the last signature wasn't added until 5 years later. Five. Years. Later.

Why?

I’ll tell you why: because men can’t make decisions.

Example: Today as Kevin was driving into town at a speed of 55 mph, the light ahead turned yellow. Being in that “iffy” state between stopping too hard and the risk of running a red light, he STARTED to stop hard, changed his mind, sped up, decided he really couldn’t make it, then stopped again . . . in the middle of the intersection. He then drove on through the red light. It was, quite literally, like playing “Red Light Green Light”. His big mistake: INDECISION.

Now, lest you think this to be a male-bashing blog, let me say, in all fairness, we women are just as indecisive. We have all had this discussion with our significant other: “Where do you want to go for dinner?” “I don’t care.” “Come on, honey, I want you to choose.” “No, I truly don’t care, you pick.” . . . ad infinitum, ad nauseum.

Why won’t SHE pick? Because she truly doesn’t care. Plain and simple. She is hungry or tired or just totally grateful to not have to cook dinner. Whatever you choose really is fine with her . . . unless, of course, you choose someplace she doesn't want to go.

Why won’t HE pick? Because he doesn’t know how.

I believe this starts because boys have attention spans equivalent to the length of time it takes to blink.

We diligent moms know our boys are easily distracted. We try to keep it simple. We try to be specific. We try to communicate.

At age 6:
Mom says: “Go pick up your Legos, put them in your Lego box, and put the box in the closet.”

He hears: “Legos.”

Three minutes later he is floating a Lego-boat in the toilet because when he began picking up the blocks he ran across the little “sail” piece and got distracted.

At age 9:
Mom says: “Go get ready for bed.”
He hears: “Bed.”

So when you go tuck him in, you find him in bed, clothes still on, teeth unbrushed, still needing to use the bathroom.

At age 12:
Mom says: “Go to your room, hang up your clean clothes, and put your dirty clothes in the laundry basket.”

He hears: “Go to your room”

Fourteen seconds later the amnesia has kicked in and he is standing in the doorway of his bedroom wondering why he is there.


So, in an effort to eliminate frustration (mainly mine!), I began to give step-by-step instructions to my little man:
“Kevin, go to your room, tell me when you get there.”
“Okay, mom”
“Hang up your khaki pants. Tell me when you have done that.”
“Okay, mom”
“Pick up your dirty socks. Tell me when you have done that.”
“Okay, mom”
“Go put your dirty socks in the laundry basket. Tell me when you have done that.”
“Okay, mom”

This has gone on for years and has succeeded in rendering him incapable of making decisions. Don't hear me wrong - he is a GREAT kid. He always does what he is told, but ONLY what he is told, then he waits for someone to tell him what to do next.

There is a solution to this. I just don’t know what it is. I want him to make decisions. I want him to show initiative. I want him to be able to change his own child’s diaper one day without having to call me for the play-by-play. Really I do.

Men may be incapable of making decisions, but as psychology has proved time and again . . . it’s still mom’s fault.

Whatever John Hancock’s mother did, it must have been right. Then again, maybe she was in the back of Independence Hall whispering, “Johnny, pick up your quill, walk to the front table, write your name nice and big so everyone can see it . . .”

this house ain't big enough fer the two of us

The cowboy loves to be spontaneously hospitable. It is not unheard of for him to ask me if it's okay for him to invite people over for dinner . . . only he will ask me at 5:45 when I am just walking in the door from work and the house is a wreck and there is no food in the fridge. Seriously. When I respond with, "No. No you may not." and explain why, he comes up with things like, "Then let's just build a bonfire outside and roast hot dogs." Of course, we don't have hot dogs in the fridge either, 'cause, well, yuck.

Gotta love his simplicity though.

He recently invited a complete stranger to spend the night with us. Okay, she was a complete stranger to Kevin and me. My husband had met her once in Fort Worth at the "Saddle Boy" competition. She is an insurance claims adjustor and had been working about five hours east of us, and her home is about five hours west of us. Anyway, she called to see if she could stop by on her way home and see the cowboy's new "Extreme Mustang Makeover" horses. (Yeah, that's plural. Remember, he decided to go with two horses this round, you know, because of all his extra free time.) So . . . instead of just saying, 'Yes, that would be lovely,' he says, "Yes, but why don't you come early and stay the night at the Reynolds' Bed & Breakfast?"

She thanked him politely but said she would be staying the night elsewhere and would see us on Wednesday morning. A couple of days later she called for directions and he asked her again to spend the night with us. "Really," she said, "I appreciate the offer, but I've already got a place to stay."

This is when he decides to inform me he has invited a complete stranger to stay with us. On a night he will be at work. On a night I already have other plans. But since she has declined the offer twice, I don't give it much thought. (Not that I mind her spending the night. Really, I don't. It was just that he made the offer twice before conferring with me.)

So, Tuesday comes along and the cowboy calls just before leaving for work at 5 p.m. "Are you coming home?" he asked. "Not planning to . . . why?" I responded. "Just wondering. I'm going to leave a key for Karen just in case she changes her mind and decides to show up."

Knowing that this lady had no intention of spending the night with us, and knowing that Sara and I were planning some girl time, Kevin decides he want to go home. So I took him home around 5:30 for a quiet night of frozen pizza, Facebook and X-box.

About 9 o'clock he is in the den and hears the front door open. Thinking this strange, as I always come in through the garage, he goes to the safe, gets out a gun and hollers, "Mom?" (You know, 'cause my kids always greet me at the door with a loaded shotgun.) To which a complete stranger's voice answers, "No? This is Karen?"

Sufficiently freaked them both out, as neither was expecting the other.

By the time I got home she was holed up in Kacey's room sound asleep. Kevin and I had a good laugh about it. Apparently, once he regained his bearings, he became quite the host and offered her food then showed her where all the essentials were. I asked him all about her, but since the Y-chromosome makes men oblivious to details, the best he could tell me was that she walked upright on two legs and she was not bald. So I try to get specific: Is she tall? Short? Young? "Oh, no, she's not young. Definitely older than you, mom." Okay, so we have a bit of information.

The next morning I met her and was pleasantly greeted by a VERY sweet, gracious and MUCH younger woman. Kevin gets big brownie points.

We had a great visit. She helped the cowboy feed the horses, they went for a ride, I fixed a big breakfast, we had the "get to know each other" talk, then she was on her way back home. She called the next day and left a message:

"Hey guys! This is Karen. Thanks so much for letting me play with the horses. Stephanie, thanks so much for your hospitality and the best breakfast I have had in weeks. Oh, and Kevin . . . BOO!"

I liked her. She can come back and stay anytime. :o)

mirror, mirror on the wall

Recently I had a friend ask me to do the unthinkable. . . she asked me to tell her what she needs to improve about herself. Seriously?!?! This is not something I do well. Sure, I could tell YOU what she needs to do, but tell HER? To her face? So, instead, I’ve just decided to blog about what she needs to improve.

JUST KIDDING.

Being honest with one another is difficult. And intimidating. I don’t want to be rude. I don’t want to be unkind. I don’t want to be hurtful. But mostly, I don’t want to open myself up to return criticism. I might hear the truth and, well, EW.

This leads to me a little story about a friend’s son, Davin. He is 2. A few months ago I took his picture with my cell phone, then pulled up the photo to let him see himself.
I said, “Who’s that, Davin?”
“Dat baby,” he replied.
I said, “That’s you, Davin!”
To which he adamantly responded,
“Dat NOT me!”
I assured him it was, but his repeated, indignant response was still, “Dat NOT me!”

At first I thought it was pretty funny, but then I went home and stood in front of the mirror, cell phone in hand. I looked at myself as long as I could (you know, without frying my retinas). I muttered, "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the whatever whatever . . . " Then I held the phone up and took a picture of my reflection. Immediately I scrolled through my phone to locate said picture. IT WAS NOT THERE. All I could find was one of a woman, dressed like me, who looked vaguely like my mother. There was certainly not one of me looking the way I see myself. I tried it three more times, hoping for better luck. Luck was nowhere to be found.

A mirror rarely, if ever, depicts us as we encounter life - silly, contented, curious, angry - showing what we “really look like”. Instead, it returns a bland, slightly dull reflection. It does, however, reflect what is ACTUALLY there. Our eyes do not possess the same ability as our mirrors. Our eyes see what they want to see, and apparently they do not perceive reality, neither about appearance nor personality.

If you think back really hard to your senior year of high school English you might remember a Scottish poet named Robert Burns and a poem entitled, “To a Louse”. It’s pretty funny, actually. He writes a dozen or more stanzas about this proper church lady, thinking she is “all that and a bowl of haggis” and all the while he is watching the lice in her bonnet. The poem ends with the phrase (I’ll Americanize it),

“Oh would some Power the gift to give us,
To see ourselves as others see us.”

Since we rarely see ourselves as others see us, we have to rely on those who love us. Those who can be honest with us. Those who care about us enough to want us to be more than we are today.

This takes me back to the unthinkable. I have immense admiration for this friend’s request. It takes a lot of moxie to want people to be honest with you so you can improve. I hope I can honor her request with the same grace that she asked it.

temptation wafers and thumb wars

Lent Update
9 days and counting. Haven't had a single granule of sugar. No Happy Hour cokes. No Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Not even a single bite of the Reece's Pieces dessert pizza at Pizza Inn earlier.

Then I got home tonight and opened the freezer. And there, between the California Kitchen Sicilian Pizza and the Pillsbury Frozen Whole Wheat Dinner Rolls was a commitment test. A little green box of temptation wafers. God's Perfect Food. GIRL SCOUT THIN MINTS. Kevin bought a box for himself. It's a cruel Catch-22 . . . if I buy some for myself, you know, for AFTER Lent then I fear I will give in and eat them before Easter. However, by the time Lent is over, Girl Scout Cookies will be unattainable for another 11 months. Oh, the horror. The horror!


THUMB WARS
So, my Eastern-Time-Zone daughter had to be at work at 6 a.m. Tuesday morning. What does she do? Text me. Thirty-seven times.

For those of you not gifted with math skills, this would be 5 a.m. in my bed where I WAS sleeping. WAS being the operative word here.

KC: "Yeah, so my arm hurts a LOT!" (4 follow-up texts confirming she had pulled a muscle)

ME: "Two words - chiro practor"

(11 more follow-up texts saying it was so bad her husband had to drive her to work, and she didn't think the chiropractor would be much help, and it REALLY REALLY HURTS A LOT MOMMY, and she wanted my opinion on what to take for it.)

ME: "One word - Heating Pad"

(I finally conceded that an Aleve might be her best choice though she knows my feelings about drugs.)

KC: "Chris has some Aleve, I'll take a couple in a bit." (I insisted she read the dosage instructions, as I feel Aleve is one of those "take one tablet twice daily" things. She then informed me that my prescriptive pharmaceutical advice must be a mistake, as she needs 12, not one.)

Then the texting ceased. It is still COMPLETELY dark outside, but I am now wide awake.

ME: "Hey! Customers and their mocha lattes do not come before me!" (As you may recall, my daughter is currently putting her $80,000 college degree to good use brewing Java for yankees, and loving it.)

(After a 10-minute intermission she returned to call me names)
KC: "Grouchy Pants"

(Then, upon realizing that I was still in bed, revised it to "Grouchy No-Pants".)

ME: "I am going back to sleep now. Stop texting."

So she proceeds to text a bunch of randomness in rapid sequence.

ME: "WOMAN! YOU BETTER MIND ME!"

KC: "Don't wanna. Can't make me. :oP "

ME: "Shhhhh. Mommy sleeeeeeeping now."

KC: "Lazy Bum." (This is how she speaks to the woman who gave up caffeine for 9 months and endured 32 hours of natural labor, just so she could now pollute herself with Aleve over a wee bit of arm pain.)

ME: "I'm sure you mean 'Busy Mom' not lazy bum. Your phone must have made a predictive texting mistake."

This went on for about a dozen more texts incorporating the need to pee, her "awesomeness", one "That's What She Said" reference (which, BTW, I hate!), and the awakening of her father. Then one of my texts failed to send, so it threw off the entire linear conversation and things became increasingly confusing until she said,

KC: "I'm so lost. It's prolly 'cause I'm all hyped up on 12 Aleve."

Goofy, goofy girl.

forty-something

The Pros and Cons of being "this age":

PRO: I have WAY more patience with people.
CON: I have way LESS patience with THINGS.
PRO: I no longer have oily hair.
CON: My crow's feet personally keep Oil of Olay in business
PRO: I enjoy reading more.
CON: I have to have my 1.75 reading glasses to see the 12-pt font.
PRO: I have more money to spend.
CON: I spend more money.
PRO: I have a multi-layer personality.
CON: I have a multi-layer neck.
PRO: I am a better listener.
CON: I can’t remember what you told me.

Just a little food for thought. :o)

the mom who cried wolf

My son honked at an old lady today, and I was proud. Seriously. He had already asked me not to make him drive on this particular road because of the ridiculous traffic, but I felt he was ready for it and needed the experience. I love being right.

Speaking of right, he was turning that direction. “She” was across from him and turning left. She did not have her wheels turned, nor did she have her blinker on. The light turned green. Kevin turned right into the right lane. The blue-haired lady turned left . . . into the right lane. Kevin stopped hard and fast, honked loud and long, and saved his mommy’s life. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but he definitely avoided a nasty little accident. Yea, Kevie-poo!

So after this and his drum lesson (where his instructor had a killer-headache and wasn’t exactly in a good mood), we decided Happy Hour at Sonic was just what he needed. We placed our order for two large vanilla cokes with no ice, then Kevin said, “I’m gonna rest my head on the steering wheel. Tell me when she comes out.”

So, being the good mother that I am, I waited 3 seconds and said, “Here she is.” Which she was not. He looked up and then growled at me.

He put his head back down. I waited another 6 or 8 seconds and said, “Kev.” (Implying her impending arrival with the aforementioned drinks.) He looked up, realized he’d been duped again and replied, “Mother!”

Again, down with his little head. About 12 seconds later I said, “HERE we go!” which again prompted him to lift his head and then look at me with disdain. “Just for that,” he stated, “I am freezing you out!” Then he rolled down my window and turned on the air conditioner. Mind you, it was 37 degrees outside.

After a little begging and pleading and a lot of wrestling and laughing, he rolled up my window, turned off the a/c and put his head back down on the steering wheel. He warned me not to do it again and then mumbled something about "ending me with his wrath".

“Kev,” I said. He did NOT look up. “Seriously, honey.” So, he looked up. Seeing no Sonic employee, he declared his intense displeasure for my existence, and declared he wished he had not previously saved my life from the blue-haired lady.

“BUT I GAVE BIRTH TO YOU!” I proclaimed.

“Now we’re even,” he stated flatly.

“EVEN?” I proceeded to describe 10 hours of labor and the size of a 7-pound baby’s head, which caused him to further regret my existence.

I love being a mom.

to blog or not to blog, that is the question

Murder, Ghosts, Incest, Skeletons, Suicide, Insanity . . .
What more could you ask of a tragedy? We have begun Hamlet in my high school literature class. It is my favorite of all of Shakespeare's works. I love going over lines of it, stopping now and again to ask one of the kids to interpret. It's fun to watch them think out the language and retell the story in their words.

In this same class, we recently completed The Old Man and the Sea, a story I have somehow missed over the years. I was pleasantly surprised how much I enjoyed it, despite its less-than-happy ending. What excited me the most from this story was a rewrite one of my 8th graders did, telling the story from the vantage point of the marlin. With phrases like, "I notice how effortlessly the water envelops me." and "I prefer the shadows the deeper water offers me." and ". . . (a human) could not last even a tide's turn in this vast ocean without yielding to its own defeat." This paper followed the sophomore boys' papers which read like instructions: "Then the fish swam up to eat. Then the fish ate. Then the fish was hooked. Then the fish tried to swim away." Then I wanted to eat my own red grading pen just for something interesting to do. Creativity, thy name is woman!


Superheroes, Word Addictions, and more Insanity
Last night, Kacey began one of her texting novellas during which she chastised me for not blogging. I think her actualy phrase was, "OH MY GOODNESS WOULD YOU FREAKING BLOG???"

To which I replied "yes" if she would give me a topic. She suggested Winterfest, or How Much I Miss My Daughter, or The Significance of Anniversaries. I decided to blog about the following:

"Overcoming Addictions to Facebook Word Games: A 12-Letter Program."

STEP ONE: I admit I am powerless over word games

STEP TWO: I have made a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself. Oooh, "searching" and "fearless" are 40-point words! Yea me!

It's true. I'm totally addicted. It's like Boggle, but honeycomb style. And I don't have to bribe people to play with me! Five-minute rounds, every time you make a word the letters fall out, and new ones fall down. Love it. Words. Speed. High Scores. I am such a nerd.


Reduplicative Not-so-super Heroes
Then Kacey suggested we could come up with more stupid superheroes just for fun.

She began with "Cheese Louise" the Cheese Whiz Queen against the Crackers of the World".

I continued with the following:

Super Duper - He tricks bad guys
Itsy Bitsy - She is tiny, but has a mean bite!
Hubba Bubba - the redneck Romeo
Teeny Weeny - Underdog's miniature Dachshund cousin
Hum Drum - the one man band
Big Whig - A giant Founding Father
Roly Poly - the Eastern European Gymnast
Scrub a Dub Dub - The Japanese doctor who also does voice-over work
Chrome Dome - Headbutts bad guys with his shiny silver bald head

There was one more, but it was morally questionable in nature, and since I had to explain it to my daughter, and also since I had already completed my "searching and fearless moral inventory" according to STEP TWO, it is probably better left unwritten. :o)


Boys will be Boys
Oh, and speaking earlier of Winterfest: A quote heard from one of our sophomore boys to his mom as he was leaving the hotel and running down the outside steps, "Don't worry Mom, I've got my pants with me!" I will leave the mental picture to your imagination.


To blog or not to blog . . . not to blog might have been the better choice.

more thumbs up . . .

When they aren't quite so chatty, I am really enjoying teaching the Middle School class on Wednesday nights. Even when they are chatty, I'm still enjoying preparing for the class! I blogged a few weeks ago in "three thumbs up" about the first few lessons. Since those first three, we have covered the following:


"Children Who Shine"
Focusing on Philippians 2 and how Jesus took the very nature of a servant, finishing with "do all things without grumbling and complaining . . . so you shine like stars in the universe. We watched a clip of Westley, the servant boy, and Buttercup from "The Princess Bride", where she realizes that his humble service to her was his way of saying "I Love You".

"Aliens and Strangers"
Using the story of Joseph and how his brothers sold him into slavery in another country, how he kept himself pure, how God lifted him as an alien and stranger to 2nd in command and saved two nations of people as a result. They watched a clip from "Men in Black" (I think the one where they are standing outside the pawn shop and he is looking at what appears to be "normal" people on the street, but you begin to see aliens all around.)

"Faithful Children"
Using a clip from "Signs" where the two brothers are sitting on the couch talking about there being two kinds of people in the world: 1) those who believe we are all alone here and 2) those who believe there is Someone looking out for us, we talked about Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego and the difference between just believing something and having real faith. This was one of my favorites.

"Living Example"
We followed last week's Boys in the Fiery Furnace with their friend, Daniel and his commitment to doing the right thing. Always. Even when he didn't know he was being watched. We used a clip from "The Truman Show" when Jim Carrey is driving around town and begins to suspect he is being watched.

"Made in His Image"
Prejudice. Judging. Thinking we are better than others. I have some fun optical illusions to illustrate that things aren't always as they appear. I'm also going to show a couple of the more appropriate Ameriquest Mortgage Company commercials - they are hysterical! Their slogan is "Don't judge too quickly - we won't." The movie clip for tonight is from the end of "Volcano" where the officer is helping the little boy find his mom. He asks the boy what she looks like, and as the little boy is looking around at all the ash-covered faces he says "we all look the same".

"Surrendered Life"
Next week is my last class for this quarter. Going to talk about "Surrender" using a clip from "Bruce Almighty" and the ultimate story of surrender: Jesus.

I plan to teach again next Winter Quarter and continue . . . this is much more fun than it should be!

fortress of solitute

The ice storm has thrown everything out of whack. Although, if things were still "in whack" I'm not sure I'd know what that meant. . .

Clean up is underway. If you can imagine the amount of water in New Orleans after Katrina and then imagine that the water is, say instead, fallen trees and tree limbs, then you begin to get a picture of what things look like around here. It's like Superman's Fortress of Solitute - only contstructed of branches and sticks and limbs and twigs. Crazy.

This is day 15 with no power for many of our friends and neighbors, and though we were fortunate enough to regain our electricity on day 6, we are still sympathetic to those with broken power lines and electrical poles who are maintaining with generators or bunking with friends and family.

On a different note, the pathology report on Tony's tumor marks it as an astrocytoma. He sees the oncologist tomorrow to determine a treatment course.

On another different note, the driving is going well for Boy-Junior. Though my "in transit" conversation as the driving instructor consists mainly of the following sarcastic or panic-stricken phrases:
"Blinker? Sometime today?"
"A left turn does not mean you turn into the left lane, sweetheart."
"I like to put the car in reverse before I try to back up. I just think it works better."
"Stop. Stop. STOP!"
And,
"Move over. Over. Other way! Mommy does not want to sleep in the ditch, thank you very much."

On yet another different note, Sara's phone is dead. I miss her. I mean, I see her almost every day, but it's not the same. Stupid Blackberry Pearl.

On still yet another different note, my daughter will not come home to see me. She texts and says, "Mommy, I meeeeeeeeess you!" She lies.

And speaking of Fortress of Solitute, I am remodeling my office. This month marks my 5th year living in this room, er, I mean, working here, so it was time for new furniture, new paint, new attitude. Could not have picked a busier time to do this, so between work, homeschool co-op, ice storm insanity and driving lessons, I am painting and putting together office furniture. In the meantime, all my books, cds, reams of paper, wall decor, etc. are sitting in the church hallway waiting to be tripped over. The walls in my newly-made-over office are Granny-Apple-Guacamole-Green. Sounds gross, but trust me on this . . . it's going to look GREAT if and when I figure out how to make all the new furniture fit just right.

Now, this is not to imply that my office is a Fortress of Solitute. Far from it. It tends to be the gathering place for all who are within walking distance. I love that about my office, so the challenge has been to find appropriate furniture. I knew from the start that a table for us to socialize around, meet around, work around, even have Bible class around, was a must. As a church that has outgrown its facilities, my office has been used for a classroom at least 5 different quarters that I remember.

I also knew that the loveseat would have to be comfy. Really comfy. So after MUCH shopping, online and off, I finally found a loveseat that is both washable AND has low padded arms that make it very sleepable. Not as in "sofa bed" sleepable, but as in 'Tommy stops by on Thursdays and props his feet up' sleepable . . . as in 'Kevin is a growing boy and needs a nap today' sleepable . . . as in 'I just chaperoned a lock in and I don't have the energy to drive home' sleepable . . . you get the idea. I guess in that sense my office can be a Fortress of Solitute, or Sleepitude.

Either way, I'll post pictures when it's all put together.

i'm not dead yet (read with british accent)

Kevin got his permit today. On my dad's birthday! (Happy, Happy, Dad!) It's almost 3 weeks past due because of our trip to Fayetteville for Tony's surgery, and the world's worst ice storm EVER. However, he took it today and scored a 95 - missed only 2 out of 40. So, we left the Circuit Court Building, a smile on his face and a shiny warm permit in his duct-tape wallet, and he took the driver's seat.

And then I yelled. For maybe the first time since . . . well, since the last time I yelled. Which was a long time ago. Seriously. Like 1998.

Did Kacey just have better beginner's instincts, or was I just MUCH more patient 6 1/2 years ago? I'm guessing the latter.

And though he got off to a rocky start (apologies to the lady in the white van who honked at us because we gave her whiplash), by the time we made it home (3 furniture store stops, and 2 near-death experiences later) he was starting to get a feel for it. He said it was the longest 20 minutes of his life. HIS life?

He has no idea.

good sex

Got your attention, huh?

One New Table
I am getting new office furniture! Picked up my table from Pier 1 yesterday and assembled it today . . . it is BIGGER than I envisioned, but I LOVE it, so I will make it work even if I have to rearrange and give up my coveted corner desk spot.

Two New Horses
The cowboy is getting two, yes TWO, more mustangs tomorrow, this time for the Extreme Mustang Makeover in Ocala, Florida in April. This will be the first of two EMM competitions this year. Here's to biting off more than you can chew!

Three-Letter Word
There was a catalog on my desk today. The book on the catalog cover was entitled, "Good Sex". I told Kevin I was going to blog about "having good sex on my desk". He, for some strange reason, was not in favor of the idea . . .

Four-Headed Monster
So we had the 16th Birthday sleepover last Friday night, which consisted of 10 straight hours of video games, junk food, and caffeine, only to be briefly interrupted by something the boys called "FreezeOut". At the near-tropical temperature of 7 degrees, the boys stripped down to their boxers and ran outside. WHY? Because they could. Or because they are idiots. Or both. John Mark's dad said I should have locked them out and hosed them down . . . (See Kevin, I'm not the WORST parent!)

prayer request

On Kacey's 2nd birthday, I was blessed and privileged to hold my best friend Sherri's hand and breathe with her as she and her sweet husband, Neal, welcomed their first child into the world. They named him Tony. It was my first "doula" experience long before I ever knew what a doula was.

Over the years, Tony and his sister, Randi, have been like cousins to my kids. We love them like family. Neal & Sherri are those rare friends you can just pick up with where you left off no matter how long it has been.

We found out today, on Kevin's 16th birthday, that Tony has a brain tumor the size of an egg. Apparently this has happened quickly, with headaches, followed by numbness in his arm and face, followed by tests . . . and now he is having surgery on Tuesday. Though Neal & Sherri still live in Alaska, Tony is in Arkansas where he is in college. We are headed that direction in the morning, once again so I can hold Sherri's hand and breathe with her.

Please pray for Tony. Kevin chatted with him a bit tonight, and Tony seems to be in good spirits with full assurance that he is in God's hands.

Thanks to you all . . . I will keep you posted.

http://www.tonycollinsstatus.blogspot.com/

the four-headed monster

It's that time again. Pre-birthday sleepover, minus the sleep. Which means 18 hours of pizza, caffeine, swedish fish and video games for four almost-16-year-old boys, while I sequester myself in the bedroom.

Last year, Mike showed up and "kidnapped" the boys and took them for cheese fries and Klondike bars.

This year maybe somebody will show up and kidnap me. :o)

Prolly not.

Good thing I have that cursed cable.

5 hard questions from Janice

Okay, so I gave Janice the “go ahead” to ask me some interview questions, hoping for some fluffy, fun questions. Apparently, I forgot who I asked, ‘cause these are HARD!

1. You are in a unique position to see the good and bad side of Christians in our church. What is your biggest encouragement?
Truly, my biggest encouragement is watching people change, myself included. I love the shift our church family as a whole continues to make from being all about “having it right” to being more about “having God’s heart”. I love that we continue to focus on getting outside our walls and into people’s lives - into our community - granted, it’s a slow process, but at least we are not stagnant.

2. Other side of the coin, what has been your biggest disappointment?
Selfishness. People who aren’t givers - of themselves, of their time, of their way, of their money. People filled with excuses as to why they “can’t”. That, and the fact that my chromosomes don’t allow me to be seen in the way I would like to be seen sometimes.

3. What is your absolute best marriage tip?
Learn to accept the fact that it is not his job to make you happy - joy comes from God alone. Your job is to just be who God calls you to be, to love unselfishly, and to use every day to become a better person. Happiness is never a goal . . . just a hopeful, occasional by-product.

4. Did you/Do you EVER have days when your kids drove/drive you nuts? (Please don't say no.) What did you do?
No, my children are perfect. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

YES! They drive/drove/have driven me nuts and, Lord-willing, will continue to drive me nuts for many years to come! What do I do? Listen. Ask questions. Don't overreact. There's a reason they are driving me nuts, I just have to figure it out. Maybe they are tired. Or frustrated. Or feeling they are being treated unfairly. Or . . . you name it. There's almost nothing in ANY relationship that can't be worked out with a little good communication, which starts with good listening.

Now, if there was direct defiance/disobedience/or sheer laziness, that's a different ballgame. The way I figure it, my kids are entitled to water and oxygen. Past that, the rest is gravy. I never "warn them" ahead of time that I will discipline, and I "almost" never yell (I yelled once in 1998 and my kids have NEVER let me live it down, they love to tell that story on mom . . . ), but once bad behavior rears its ugly little head, privileges start disappearing quickly. And I am doggone consistent. If I say no computer for a week, baby it will be 168 full hours, and not one second less. And if there is whining about the discipline, it instantly gets doubled.

Of course, since my kids really are perfect, all of the above is merely untested theory . . .

5. What is the best advice you can give about a grandiose wedding? I am looking for the best things and the things best left out.
Kacey & Nathan’s was not all about bigger and better, but it was all about unique and personal. Best things - the ceremony, the location, the details, the people involved should all be very special to your families. Things most worth spending money on: photography and food. Things best left out - stress. So totally not worth it. My best advice is to start early, delegate as much as possible, and pay people to clean up when it’s all over ‘cause by then you are EXHAUSTED!

current-cy

Current Book:

*Saving Fish from Drowning (Amy Tan) I picked this one up at the used bookstore . . .

the first line was “It was not my fault”. I knew I had to read it.

Current Play List:

A little Jason Mraz. Mm Hmm.

Current Drink:

Water. Which I hate. Why couldn’t water be fizzy and taste like Coke?

Current Food:

Last night I made baked spaghetti, but I also just bought a bazillion “100 calorie snack packs” which, if you eat 5 or 6 at once, probably defeats the purpose.

Current Wish List:

Hmmm . . . SNOW! :o)

Current Need:

A new tube of progesterone cream. When I said something about almost being out, Kevin looked me in the face and VERY SERIOUSLY said, “You are not allowed to run out. You must buy more before this one is empty.”

I think he is enjoying having his non-crying mother back.

Current Triumph:

I am taking lessons on “how to get things done” from my bestie. On Monday I got the garage door fixed (it has been broken for 8 months), activated my debit card (which I have had since LAST February), made an appointment to get my cat fixed, listed some items for sale on eBay, ordered Kevin’s birthday gift, did all my lesson plans for both co-op and Wednesday night class, and called the gas company to come actually READ the meter rather than estimating it at $60 higher than I know it should be. Yea, me!

Current Bane of my Existence:

Cable. It is evil. And I love it. It makes me stay up too late, and keeps me in bed too long in the mornings. Cursed HGTV.

Current Indulgence:

I’m having my eyebrows waxed this afternoon. Indulgence!

Current #1 Blessing:

My amazing children. Could NOT love them more.

Current Slang or Saying:

"I’m just sayin’”

Current Outfit:

Today I am wearing this new suede jacket, which is totally NOT something I would have bought because of the price, except the sales lady was so eager to make a sale that she threw this $20 off coupon at me and then picked up this jacket and said, “It’s 70% off you know.” No, I didn't know! Okay, I’m no rocket scientist, but 70% off less 20 more dollars is like . . . well, let’s just say, in the end, I think she gave me cash back just to take it. So really, it was like I had no choice. Sort of like rescuing hungry kittens who need a good home. But since it is leather, I guess the whole "a cow had to die for this jacket" thing might negate the saving kittens analogy.

Current Excitement:

Having a new doula client . . . even though the birth is not for 4 more months, it is definitely something I can get excited about!

Current Mood:

Goofy happy!

Current Picture(s):

with glasses . . . without glasses. I'm like Superman - you can hardly tell it's the same person!

three thumbs up

I started teaching the Middle School class on Wednesday nights, and so far I am having a great time. Our topic for this quarter is “Identity in Christ”, and because I am such a movie buff, we are approaching this subject through that venue.

Week One was “Created for Community”. I showed the clip from “I Am Legend” where Will Smith is so lonely that he tries desperately to get the mannequin in the video store to talk to him. Sounds funny, but it’s not. From there we read about God’s creation, Adam/Eve, and ended with a great discussion about how much we need each other and the importance of bonding and being accepting as a youth group.

Week Two was “Citizen of Heaven”. That week we watched a clip from “The Terminal”. The clip was close to the beginning when the JFK international terminal administrator tries to explain to Tom Hanks that he is not allowed to enter the United States, nor can he go home because his country has been overturned. He is, quite literally, a citizen of nowhere. We then read about the Israelites wandering in the desert for 40 years, and God’s not allowing them to enter the Promised Land because of their lack of trust. We ended that night with a nice little talk about how being a citizen of heaven is not just something we hope for when we die, but something we experience and live out here on a daily basis.

Week Three was from “Hook”. Dustin Hoffman’s character, Captain Hook, hates Peter Pan so much he wants to kill him. Then he decides something even worse. What would hurt Peter Pan more than death? Turn his children against him. Captain Hook tells the children that their father (Peter Pan) doesn’t really love them. He points out to Jack (the son) that his father loves Maggie (the daughter) more, and gives examples of why. It was such a PERFECT clip to demonstrate how Satan tries to deceive us. We read the passage from John 8 where Jesus calls Satan the “father of all lies”. I asked a bunch of questions: “Does Captain Hook love the children? (no) Why does he want the children to love him? (the hurt their father) What does Maggie call Captain Hook? (a liar) How does Captain Hook try to divide the children? (by telling them their father loves one of them more than the other)”. Then I had them parallel those questions with their own about how Satan does the same thing with us . . . especially how he tries to make us believe that God blesses others in ways that seem unfair to us.

I hope this class is half as much fun for them as it is for me! Now, if I can just get them to bring their Bibles to class . . .

lost and found . . . our weekend parable

"There was a man (for purposes of this parable, he is the cowboy) who went riding with two of his horses, Sally and Dixie. The latter got spooked by a slipped saddle and set off aimlessly for a distant riding trail, dragging her saddle, bridle, reigns and all the rest of her fair share of the inheritance with her. She soon succumbed to wild living in a strange land.

Immediately the cowboy begged for her to return. He called her name many times. He, riding on the back of the obedient horse Sally, began to search. They, and other loving people, searched diligently into the night, but to no avail.

Again, the following morning, the cowboy and the obedient horse were out before first light searching high and low for her. They searched well into the night again on the second day.

On the third day, the cowboy once again set out. This time on foot to give the obedient child, er, horse, a break. But the cowboy took no break. He walked till his feet hurt. He went without meals. He climbed every mountain and forged every stream. (Hey, that would make a great song for a musical . . . ) But, alas, Dixie would not be coming home with him.

By the fourth day, the cowboy was losing hope. He was desperate, but still determined.

"But while she was still a long way off, the cowboy got a phone call and was filled with compassion for her; he ran to his home, hitched up the horse trailer and drove off to where she was. (And though it has yet to happen for a couple more hours, when he sees her he will undoubtedly throw his arms around her and kiss her with the same mouth he kisses me. . .)

“And the cowboy will say to his friends and family, 'Quick! Bring the best saddle pad and put it on her. Put some corn in a bucket and bring a brush for her coat. Break open a new bale of hay! Let's have a feast and celebrate. For this Mustang of mine was lost but is now found.' So they will celebrate and there will be great rejoicing in their household and the households of horse-people everywhere.”

. . . for those of you not following my little parable, the cowboy and some friends went riding on Saturday and Dixie has been missing for 100+ hours in LBL. This afternoon she has been found some 20 miles from where she was last seen! And though I am NOT, repeat, am NOT, a horse-person, it has given me a renewed compassion for things which are lost that need to be found . . .

Luke 15:3-7 "Suppose one of you had a hundred sheep and lost one. Wouldn't you leave the 99 and go after the lost one until you found it? When found, you can be sure you would put it across your shoulders, rejoicing, and when you got home call in your friends and neighbors, saying, 'Celebrate with me! I've found my lost sheep!' Count on it—there's more joy in heaven over one sinner's rescued life than over 99 good people in no need of rescue."

Thanks to all of you who worried, who took flyers to post, who made phone calls to friends, and especially to Philip and Beth who spent hours of their own time searching for the lost sheep, er, horse. You guys are the best!

2008 in pictures

Spiritual Goal: Eph. 4:29
New cell phone
Wedding dress shopping
Kevin's biology class
Kevin's drum/guitar lessons
Ice Storm sleepovers
Topaz dogsitting
Winterfest
Lent commitments
Blogging
Sushi, sushi, sushi
BPA-free water bottles
Christ Formed artwork
Follies office previews :o)
Coffee
Quest for glassware
Engagement pictures
Saba passport saga
Stomp
"Green Ball"
Favorite Song: Sara Bareilles - Love Song
Favorite Movies: Dark Knight & 7 Pounds
Most listened to cd's: Jack Johnson & John Mayer
Most talked-about book: The Shack
Kevin & Mike wresting matches
Kacey's college graduation
Lindsay's high school graduation
Palmetto Bible Camp
The ongoing Superman vs. Batman debate
The beginning of the Darling building
Camp Barnabas
Jewelry & shoe-shopping with Sara
Our new kitten, still unnamed
Superhero Mystery Party
Back to School Olympics
08/08/08 WEDDING!
Sonic Happy Hour blackberry tea
2008/2009 Co-op
Fort Worth Mustang Makeover
Kevin's automotive narcolepsy
Nathan & Kacey to Indianapolis
Weekend getaway to Natural Bridge
Sanity-saving progesterone :o)
Happy Birthday to me!
Six-word stories
Celebration
Zoe Conference
Emily's Countdown Calendar Weekend

Obviously this isn't all-encompasing, but it was fun to put together a "year in review" photo collage!

SHOOPerman and chew toys

Corban is staying with us for a few days! He is the kid who peed on Mike last year, so that automatically makes him one of my favorite little guys! (haha) Corban is 2-and-a-half and such a sweetie! He fell asleep last night snuggled up in my lap, and it was all I could do to make myself hand him over to Kevin (they are sharing a bed this weekend!)

Corban discovered a Superman/Batman lunchbox ornament on my Christmas tree and immediately went to his bag to show me his Superman/Batman action figures he brought with him. He was so excited! I keep asking him who his favorite is just so I can hear him say, enthusiastically, "SHOOP-erman!!!"

My favorite moment of today was when Corban called out, "Will you help me wif my shocks, Keviepoo?" YES! I love that they repeat everything they hear! Kevin, however, growled at me. Apparently, "Keviepoo" just doesn't work for my almost 16-year-old.

Speaking of Keviepoo and being almost 16: He is counting down the days to his driver's permit. He is also counting the four wisdom teeth that are working their way in. He has also been a bit under the weather lately. Not exactly sick, just lethargic with a runny nose for about 2 weeks now.

Wait a minute.

Lethargic. Runny Nose. Wisdom Teeth.

MY TEENAGE SON IS TEETHING!!!! HAHAHAHAHA That explains so much!!!

When I told him rubbing a bit of whiskey onto his gums would help numb the discomfort, he smiled a devious little smile.

Think I'll buy him a chew toy instead.