My Daily Outbox

For the next era of blogging, please check out My Daily Outbox.

Thanks again!

Free To Be Me

"The 30s are wonderful years! You will gain confidence in who you are and will plainly see the direction of your life." -Card from ChoirFriend

I am so blessed!

I am the wife of a loving husband, who supports me when I spend the day coaching (character day), and surprises me in the evening with desserts, cards, and a beautiful box...



Yes, it was a Tiffany & Co. ring!

I am the mother of two fantastic children. I stayed up late last night chatting with the Teenager, and enjoyed celebrating this evening with Daughter. Raising them with Husband has been the crowning achievement of my life thus far.

I am the daughter of amazing parents, who taught me that love is a choice and has very little to do with genetic relationships! It was great spending time with them this past weekend, enjoying outlet mall shopping and Lobster Fest. I am a sister to four younger siblings (and a sibling-in-law), who teach me so much about life, and the proud Godmother of SweetNiece.

I am the coach who made a difference in half a dozen young lives this season. Teaching young women about character through the medium of volleyball is the best ministry ever. This was a special team, and while it was time for the season to end, I cherished every minute of it. Today I received affirmation that they got a lot out of it as well. Best gift ever (well, best abstract gift. I'm really loving my T&C ring).

I am the friend of beautiful people, the kind that understand all the other balls I'm juggling, and love me even when they don't physically see or hear from me for a few days, weeks, or months. One thing I'm glad I can give up is some of the relational guilt I've carried around for three decades.

I am a child of God, beloved of The Creator, who taught me this year what it means to be human. He has spoken to me about the importance of recognizing the limitations of my humanity, and I now realize that being "free to be me" means accepting my imperfections: I'm overweight, I'm habitually late, I stress instead of celebrate, I'm crabby with my Daughter, I am incapable of cleaning the dang Scary Room, I take too many pictures, I spend too much money eating out, I don't exercise or strengthen my back enough, I can't stick to diets, I over-schedule myself, I'm a perfectionist, I'm not generous with God's money, and I forget to meet with God in prayer on a daily basis. I am an imperfect human being.

It's not an excuse. I'm working to improve, and by the grace of God I'll make some headway. But I'm FREE to be imperfect. God, my family, my friends, my players-they all love me even though I'm not perfect (some of them love me BECAUSE I'm not perfect!), and that is the greatest blessing of all.

It's been a good year. Soli Deo Gloria.


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My New Blog Home

I have begun the transition to my new blog: My Daily Outbox. My plan is to continue blogging, but through letters written to people that impact my day. I think the format will make it easier for me to post on a more consistent basis, because even the most boring days are impacted by at least one other person! I hope you check it out and continue to follow me at that site. This 350 day blogging experiment has been fun, and I am excited to take my writing to the next level. My last day on this blog is April 11, 2011: My 30th Birthday!


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State of the Quests

#1: Exercise and Eat Smart - I have not achieved daily thirty minute activity. But, I have made better food choices, and have lost 15 pounds.

#2: Punctuality - I was late (again) today. If I had a nickel every time I apologized for being late, Husband would be far less annoyed with me. I have learned to call ahead and give people warning. Although Husband won't admit it, I'm pretty sure he set my alarm clock ahead a few minutes after daylight savings went into effect a few weeks ago. However, on the whole, I think I have to accept that I'm just not a punctual person. You have been warned, so plan accordingly.

#3: Cherish the Moment - I really enjoyed the Teenager's graduation, and have consciously tried to embrace the idea of cherishing the moment in other situations where joy-stealers about.

#4: The Daughter Dare - One of the the best quests, and one I'm continually picking up again and again. The Daughter is a wonderful girl, and our relationship has improved a lot in the past year.

#5: The Scary Room - Um... still scary...

#6: Europe - It was a blast! I hope to relive that quest again before I turn 40!

#7: Eat Cheap - I am doing marginally better at this as well. Eating cheap goes hand in hand with eating less, so while I have a way to go yet, I think there's hope.

#8: Eliminate Back Pain - I am still struggling with this. My newest idea? I purchased a "True Back" traction board. But the best idea also goes hand in hand with losing weight... finding time to exercise! Oh Wii fit, how I miss you!

#9: Weightwatcher Points - Yeah, I noticed last week they charged me for another month of membership, and I haven't counted points for a month now, so I have half a mind to cancel... but then again, I'm only halfway to my goal weight...

#10: Simplify My Calendar - Also doing better on this. Having a calendar on my phone has made scheduling much easier and more accurate.

#11: Paralyzed by Perfection - I'm sure I will always struggle with this. But as I continue to focus on Christ's approval instead of the world's, I find I am able to make tiny improvements. Bit by bit.

#12: Storing Treasure in Heaven - I would like to think I am becoming less enamored with material things, but then I consider my house wish list and I know i have a long ways to go. I am more sensitive to the voice that reminds me to be generous with what I have been given, and to lend freely to others. Another quality I hope I can develop more strongly.

#13: Connect with Christ - I have continued to meet with Christ in prayer for thirty minutes each day, and it has made a change in me. As we wait for God's direction, Husband and I have developed a lot of character (meaning we've grown closer to each other and to God, but like most growth, it's been painful!).


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LawLady

I'm afraid. I'm very afraid.

In Crim Practice, each person was assigned to a case as either a prosecutor or defense attorney. I am a defense attorney. And each prosecutor was assigned an agent, and each defense attorney was assigned a defendant. LawLady was assigned as my prosecutor's agent. And until this week, it didn't occur to me what that meant.

I must cross-examine LawLady. And I'm afraid.

Cross-examinations in themselves are challenging. The attorney's goal is to elicit yes or no answers in such a way that their case is strengthened. It requires a lot of patience (which I have loads of) and the art of "thinking before you speak," (another trait I really excel at). I imagine cross-examining LawLady will kind of be like cross-examining the teenager: when I don't get the answer I want, my instinct will be to break character in an inappropriate way.

Example:

Me: "You are sitting on this chair, aren't you?"
LawLady: "What do you mean by sitting?"
Me: "Dang it LawLady you know what I mean!"

Me: "You are sitting on this chair, aren't you?"
LawLady: "No."
Me: "You aren't sitting on the chair?"
LawLady: "No."
Me: "How do you figure?"
LawLady: "I'm resting on this chair."

Me: "You are sitting on this chair, aren't you?"
LawLady: "Yes."
Me: "So you admit this chair is holding you up?"
LawLady: "No."
Me: "What? You just admitted you are sitting on this chair! The logical inference is that it is holding you up!"
LawLady: "No, [insert creative, technical legalese here that I have never even remotely considered that will totally 100% ruin my entire planned argument], and that is why I am sitting on this chair, but it is not holding me up."
Me: "Shoot me now."

Oh LawLady. I'll be happy when we're back on the same side of the courtroom.


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Why I'll Never Be Denny Crane

Denny Crane. Boston Legal's undefeated legend. Never lost a case.

I will never be Denny Crane. Today, I had my first court trial. And today, I lost my first court trial. (Court trial means there is no jury; it is a mini-trial before a judge or referee). In an ironic twist of fate, my first court trial was prosecuting a defendant for not wearing her seatbelt.

The defendant was in court today, arguing over a $25 fine. My kind of girl: it's not about the money, it's about the principle (think Lia Sophia). She was adamant that she was wearing her seatbelt, and that she did not simply put it on once she was pulled over.

I, too, have received a seatbelt ticket. When Husband and I were dating, we were both cited for not wearing our seatbelts. I remember being pulled over, and then quickly pulling my seatbelt on, and then having the deputy ask me if I had just pulled the seatbelt on, and being an honest child I said Yes. I find police officers often do not reward honesty with leniency; quite the opposite in fact. Honesty is an admission and makes it more likely you'll get charged!

I digress. The referee's decision ultimately became a question of who are you going to believe? The referee said she had two credible witnesses (the trooper on one hand, the defendant on the other), but in the end she found the defendant not guilty. The sting of defeat was considerably lessened by the fact that I theoretically only owed Justice $25 (plus court costs) for my rookie performance. It was humbling, I learned a lot, and developed (yes, you guessed it!) Character.


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The Teenager Parable

Imagine I caught the teenager not only sneaking into the house an hour after curfew, but that he was late because he was teepeeing the neighbor's house and he tipped over a few cows. And let's say, instead of flying off the handle, I simply told him we would talk about it in the morning, after we'd had time to calm down.

But then the next morning the Teenager gets up at the break of dawn and leaves the house, and basically evades me for the next two years, so that we are unable to have this talk. Stick with me, OK?

Finally, I corner the Teenager, and I threaten that if we don't have the talk tomorrow morning, his allowance is cut off. (OK, so maybe first you should imagine the Teenager gets an allowance...)

In our household, both breaking curfew and vandalizing property brings about a consequence of no media for one month. The consequence for tipping cows is only a week without media. But, if Teenager will admit he broke curfew, apologizes, and promises to not do it again for one year, not only will I entirely forgive and forget the teepeeing and the cow-tipping, I won't enforce the one month no-media punishment. It will just hang over his head for a year, and as long as he has no other curfew violations, it will disappear. I'm also going to dock $20 off his allowance, but I'll likely reconsider if he gives me any good reason why he can't afford that.

So Teenager and I sit in the living room and begin discussing the curfew breaking, the teepeeing, and the cow-tipping. I start off by explaining to the Teenager my willingness to forgo punishment if he will simply apologize and pay the $20. Before I can even get a word out, the Teenager begins on a long rant about how he should NOT have to deal with this issue since it occurred two years ago, that he has a class assignment that requires he watch TV each day, and that he has been home on time ever since then, hasn't teepeed, and hasn't cow-tipped, so why is this even an issue? I calmly explain to the Teenager that if he doesn't want to apologize that's fine, he doesn't have to, but then he runs the risk of Husband mandating no media for two months and one week. It's his choice.

The Teenager continues to argue, and eventually Daughter walks into the room. She really needs my help with a baking project. So I say to Teenager, I have other people to help, it's up to you, just decide! And he says, I can't admit I came in after curfew, it will totally ruin my reputation, I'm going to plead my case to Husband. (Notice how his argument isn't, "I didn't do this act, therefore I'm innocent!")

So the Teenager and I walk up to the house calendar to find a day when Husband can sit down and talk to Teenager. I have the pen out, when Teenager suddenly says, No, I want to just apologize. I don't want to talk to Husband.

OK Fine. So I put the pen away, walk back to the table, and strongly suggest the Teenager phone a friend for some advice. I then help Daughter, which includes assisting her with putting her cookies in the oven. Meanwhile, the Teenager's friend tells him to just talk to Husband if he doesn't want to apologize. Teenager comes back into the room, and tells me that the Friend is going to talk to Husband for him.

That doesn't make any sense. What random teenager wants to voluntarily engage in a tense, uncomfortable conversation with an angry adult on another's behalf? While washing dishes with Daughter, I turn around to tell the Teenager that that doesn't sound right, and inform him the Friend needs to tell me personally he is going to talk to Husband. In the meantime, smoke is coming from the oven and Daughter is trying to get my attention... and yes I do think I hear a knock at the door...

I put out the fire, dismiss the salesperson at the door, and the Teenager is back in the room waving at me to get my attention. I'm a little frazzled. The Teenager informs me that his Friend apparently wanted money or some sort of compensation, and since that was out of the question, Teenager wanted to schedule a meeting with Husband. As we are about to walk up to the calendar, the Teenager stops and tries to explain to me, for the tenth time, that he cannot apologize for fear of a marred reputation, and that this happened two years ago so WHY am I making him do this?

Through clenched teeth I tell Teenager he needs to choose. The decision is either apologize, or talk to Husband. That's all there is. (I should also add that, while Teenager's initial Friend won't talk to Husband on his behalf, there is a second friend available who will help the Teenager out FOR FREE, but the Teenager doesn't want him because he "doesn't know what he's talking about").

Teenager says he is concerned about admitting he came in after curfew, because he's a teenager, and this might happen again, and then he'd have to go a month without media...Yes, that's true.

Teenager is also concerned because his reputation is important to him, and if he apologizes, it might have negative consequences...Yes, that's also true.

And finally, the Teenager is concerned about this $20...Well, that's the offer.

In the end, the Teenager chose to schedule a day to talk to Husband.

Yes, this IS a thinly-veiled parable about how my day went with a particularly difficult pro-se defendant. In my head I kept thinking, "If you were my kid..." Have people lost all sense of personal responsibility, that they can't accept negative consequences for their negative behavior??? Especially when the offer eliminated almost ALL of the negative consequences!!!


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The Countdown

My 350 days are almost up!

I don't think this week will bring a 15 pound weight loss or a clean scary room, but I do think this week is going to be fabulous. Some hibernation with my family, rest, and prayer has produced a new attitude. The song that says it all:

"I'm waiting
I'm waiting on You, Lord
And I am hopeful
I'm waiting on You, Lord
Though it is painful
But patiently, I will wait

I will move ahead, bold and confident
Taking every step in obedience

While I'm waiting
I will serve You
While I'm waiting
I will worship
While I'm waiting
I will not faint
I'll be running the race
Even while I wait

I'm waiting
I'm waiting on You, Lord
And I am peaceful
I'm waiting on You, Lord
Though it's not easy
But faithfully, I will wait
Yes, I will wait

I will serve You while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting
I will serve You while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting
I will serve you while I'm waiting
I will worship while I'm waiting on You, Lord"

There is a race to be run, and I need to get back on the track!


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April Eve

How can it be that a quarter of the year has already flown by?

I have the cleaning bug, and in light of the eventual move, a more serious de-cluttering bug as well. Discoveries buried in dust in my bedroom include books I intended to read, binders I intended to return, and a gazillion ponytail binders.

I found my old weightwatchers stuff from 2006-07, where I got down to 160 pounds but just didn't have the perseverance to bring it to 155. Sigh! In six months I took down 20 pounds... Hmm, in three months I've lost 15 pounds, so that's encouraging! It was good to find the old chart. It's easy to fall back into old habits because I'm so easily satisfied! (I mean, I fit into my old clothes! WITHOUT spanks!) But, I am now resolved to finish what I started, and make it to 155 in the next three months.

I have been a sparatic blogger because I've been pretty deep in thought these days. I'm still doing my daily prayer, and it's going well, but not in the joyful happy sense. More like the painful growth sense. Once I get some perspective I'll explain a little more. Suffice to say, I'm learning patience in the most tortuous way: by having to wait.


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Packing

I hate packing.

I hate packing, and therefore I am always packing at the very last minute. Like, about five minutes before we have to leave, I'll pull out the suitcase and begin meticulously going through each day of the trip, finding articles of clothing, shoes, accessories, hair appliances. etc. We almost always leave 30 minutes late. At least.

Last Friday was no different. Husband and I were going to stay at a hotel for the weekend. I had all day to pack... but I waited until 4:15 p.m., since we wanted to leave at 4:30 p.m. And maybe Husband could handle this one thing, but I have a second weird packing issue...

You see, I like to pretend I'm a light packer. Some people try on clothes that are too small, because they think they are several sizes smaller than they actually are. I'm like that, but with suitcases and bags. I like to think all my stuff will fit into one backpack. So by the end of my packing extravaganza, I have four smallish bags ready to go.

Husband didn't say much when he loaded my bags into the car. He may have rolled his eyes when I asked him if he had room in his bag for three additional shirts that just couldn't fit anywhere else. But for some reason, before the end of the evening, he snapped.

Ironically, his snapping coincided with another quirk of mine. When I grew up, you parked the car right in front of the hotel lobby doors, you left the car running and perhaps just one person ran in to check-in, and then you parked near the door that was closest to your room. But when we arrived, instead of following this practical procedure, husband parked a mile away, and then wanted to load me up like a Sherpa to haul all our luggage into the hotel lobby.

I stalked off, got our keys, and we drove to the correct door in silence.

Eventually, Husband and I had a chat about what precipitated the outburst. I explained to him the practical procedure, and instead of apologizing for his ridiculous actions, he said to me,

"Well, honey, if you didn't pack fifty bags it wouldn't have been a problem! There are no weight restrictions on this trip! We aren't on a cruise or an airplane! I don't care how heavy it is, all I ask is that you pack ONE BAG."

Lucky for him, I have a sense of humor.


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Calming the Storm

As if it's not bad enough that I am writing a paper over Spring Break (pages completed: 1.5) while LawLady, THH & Casanova are in Florida, a winter storm just blew in to mock this new season typically called "Spring."

This evening, Choirfriend and I drove down to the cities to drop off her dad, sister-in-law, and niece at a hotel near the airport. They were supposed to fly out tomorrow morning, but due to the impending winter storm we decided we should drive them down tonight instead. The last thing Choirfriend's dad said to me was, "Drive Safe," while looking deep into my eyes, as if to say, "You have the most precious cargo in this vehicle - DON'T SCREW UP." Eek! No pressure...

The trip home was treacherous. Choirfriend and I left the hotel around 8:45 p.m., and got home about 11 p.m. Thirty miles per hour, sometimes forty... four wheel drive... lots of cars in the ditch... Eventually, we made it home, safe and sound. As we drove into the driveway, we confessed to each other that, while we tried to maintain a calm demeanor while on the road, we were both SCARED out of our MINDS!

Today's Lent reading was Luke 8:22-25, where Jesus calmed the storm. This morning, in the comfort of my living room, it was easy to despise the disciples for their lack of faith. But after driving in a car for over two hours, white knuckled and intent on identifying the road when blowing snow erased all signs, it is easier to relate to their fear of the storm.

Imagine not having the car as a protective shield. Imagine having to navigate home without periodic street lamps or even roads. Consider how scary it was when I couldn't see anything except the white sheet of snow illuminated by my headlights, and then remember the disciples were on a boat in the middle of a storm. They were bombarded by the elements in darkness.

Where is my faith? Do I only feel safe in optimal weather conditions while driving a large SUV? Would I feel less safe in a blizzard while driving a small compact car? If so, does that mean my faith is in the environment around me, and the physical size and power of my vehicle? In theory, if my faith is in Christ, doesn't that mean my feelings of security should be independent of the environment around me?

Regardless, I'm thankful God got us home safely.


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Spring Break

My last Spring Break will be spent writing my last major paper for law school. The finished product needs to be approximately 22 pages. Pages completed at this point? Zero.

Today's reading was Mark 10:46-52. The reflection materials asked, "What do I want to say to Jesus about what I desire?" My first thought is how petty my requests are compared to Bartimaeus' request for sight. My next thought is how Bartimaeus really laid it all on the line. He had nothing to lose, except a little public humiliation, and so much to gain. He ignored the crowd's rebukes, and yelled louder for Jesus' attention. I am challenged to have faith like Bartimeaus, that casts aside fear of disappointment and directly makes a request to God. No qualifiers, no "but ifs," just laid out there: "Rabbi, I want to see."

I wrote down some key desires of my heart, and I'm going to try to let go of my need to protect myself from disappointment. I'm going to try and get comfortable with the idea that right now, I need to have the courage to present my desire to God with 100% confidence in His power and judgment.


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Creepy Bunny Eyes

I was cleaning up the kitchen (the cleaning lady comes tomorrow, you know) and as I was breaking down cardboard boxes for recycling, I came across a box that said, "Diva Bunny." I was instantly horrified.

You see, growing up, my mother gave us chocolate bunnies for Easter. And being a sensitive child, I had a hard time eating them. It just seemed so cruel to eat the fuzzy-looking ears, then the smiling face, then the cute bunny arms... so honestly, many an Easter morning involved the ceremonial throwing away of last year's bunny and replacing it with the fresh new bunny in the kitchen cupboard.

As I grew older (you know, about sixteen or so), I overcame my bunny issues for the most part. I mean, c'mon, I now possessed the mental ability to distinguish a chocolate bunny from a cute, imaginary friend bunny encased in chocolate. I was now able to devour chocolate bunnies. Except for one kind.

The bunny with eyes.

You know what I speak of. Who ever thought it would be a good idea to make a chocolate bunny, and then make actual colored eyes for it? So that the bunny can watch you while you eat it? Horrifying! And my bunny-eye issue has only gotten worse over the years. Probably because I get zero sympathy and continual trauma at the hands of my family.

Every year, I forget about my bunny-eye issue. But you know who doesn't forget? My family. My mom began the tradition of leaving bunnies with eyes in my room on the farm to "greet" me when I came home. Then she began leaving them in other places for me to run into, like in the shower *cue Psycho music*. Lately, the teenager has begun to join in the fun. This year, he purchased Diva Bunny, and put her in my room.

Even he admitted he was a little frightened by this one...




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Weekend Lent Thoughts

The reading for Day 11 was John 6:1-14, the Feeding of the Multitude. The Lent materials quoted Father Peter John Cameron as saying, "To be human is to be needy." I began listing off all my needs, and it quickly became apparent how I can do nothing without Christ.

Today, I read John 10:1-18. I love John 10:10 "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." Because that's what I want - I want to live life to the full!

My uncle raised sheep, and every now and then my dad would have to go over and do chores for him when he was on vacation. And he dreaded it. He hated the sheep, mostly because they were so dumb. (Among other things, they will eat themselves to death). In John, the human population is represented by the sheep, and the world we live in is the pen. Inside the pen, humans find fulfillment in what the world has to offer: fame, fortune, sex, beauty, image, position & power. But outside the pen, there is so much more! Peace, love, patience, kindness, selflessness, sacrifice, forgiveness, truth... I realize that these qualities may sound like "not a lot of fun," but as someone who still remembers what life is like without peace (for example), I wasn't "free to be me" until I stepped out of the pen.

Once Jesus Christ became the gate, it seems like a no-brainer that the sheep would be trampling each other to get outside the pen. But I fully admit that I am one of the dumbest sheep, and that even after escaping the pen to the great beyond, I often find myself trying to dig back in. Yeah, it was no accident that God used sheep analogies for the human race!


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How Ice Cream (Almost) Ruined Family Fun

If we were keeping score of how many times the family has begun a trip with the goal of finding Cold Stone Creamery, and how many times we actually found it, our family would be significantly behind. On Saturday, Frustration again racked up another point, and for a moment, it looked like Frustration was going to ruin Family Fun Weekend.

We spent the day in the cities, and the Teenager made the declaration that he wanted to end the day with Cold Stone Creamery. He looked up CSC on his smart phone, and identified the closest location. Husband and I were initially a little skeptical because, as stated earlier, the family has been on several wild goose hunts throughout the cities trying to find CSC's that either moved, went out of business, or were apparently never in the place that the Garmin or Googlemaps thought it was. As a fail-safe, we instructed the Teenager to call and confirm the CSC still, in fact, existed.

Teenager called, and from our end it sounds like he's getting some detailed instructions of how to get there. However, when he gets off the phone, he tells us only that it exists in a shopping center called, "The Village." Husband and I give each other a look. Husband mentions that perhaps it would have been helpful to have road names, or an intersection. Teenager doesn't want to call again, and I'm trying to avoid a fight, so we get the GPS going on the smartphone and begin navigating to CSC.

Teenager is nervous because he didn't get good directions. I'm holding the smartphone, and in an attempt to turn the volume down, turned it down so far that Husband couldn't hear his instructions and we ended up in a turn lane a block too early. Husband is mumbling under his breath. Tensions are running high.

According to the phone, we are on the right path. But the area is looking strangely residential. Suddenly Teenager bursts from the back seat, "It's not here! We're in the wrong place! Let's just go home!" Husband yells back, "We are not going home, we are going to find this place, we did not just drive around for half an hour to not have ice cream!" Teenager retorts, "I don't want to go when everyone is mad." Husband snapped, "Then you can sit in the car." To which I sulk because now Family Fun Day is RUINED. RUINED I TELL YOU! THERE IS NO YELLING DURING FAMILY FUN DAY!!!

But never fear, dear reader. A quick prayer for peace, and a personal phone call to the CSC we were originally trying to find (the guy said, "Oh yeah, I know that google says we're there, but we're not..." Thanks SO MUCH for that insight.) revealed that a better option was a mere four miles to the north. I called and got specific directions, Husband calmed down, the Teenager decided he did not want to sit in the car afterall, and Daughter continued to quietly pray for peace. As we drove up to CSC, we all shared a good laugh about our standard family-freak-out, ate some ice cream, and lived happily ever after.


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Family Fun Weekend

The Beatitudes were assigned today, but I admit, my prayer was pretty sleepy. It was one of the last things I did before going to bed, and by the end of a very long day at the end of a very long week, I was pretty depleted in body, mind and soul. While I'm used to feeling physically tired, I'm not as used to feeling spiritually depleted. I'm assuming its because I've been consciously putting forth more effort towards being a living sacrifice. I think that's why God says there is a blessing to being poor in spirit: It means you're trying.

For recharging, I've planned the "Family Fun Weekend," where the little family enjoys each others company for some forty hours straight. Insert happy sigh here!


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St. Patrick's Day

Uttering an explicative before 8 a.m. twice in one week is kind of impressive, even for me. The first occurred on Monday. The second occurred Thursday morning, the result of my half-hearted attempt to be a good mom.

I set my alarm for 7 a.m. It's been a long week, so I wasn't very awake. I stumbled to the couch after making a visual confirmation that Daughter was up and eating breakfast. I was joined by the teenager, who laid on the other couch. Eventually Daughter walked in, ready for school.

I suddenly realized it was St. Patrick's Day! I asked Daughter if she was wearing anything green. Nope. So I told her to run upstairs and grab her green sweatshirt so she wouldn't get pinched. Teenager mumbled something about how he wasn't going to drive her in to school if she missed the bus. I ignored him and laid back down on the couch.

I started thinking about Inspector Gadget, and what an interesting cartoon it was, when suddenly the Teenager breaks into my dreamy stupor, "[Daughter], hurry up, the bus is here!" Suddenly I, too, can hear the rumbling of the bus outside our house...

I spring blindly off the couch, drop an explicative as I realize the bus is here and Daughter is not, and frantically run towards the stairs yelling for Daughter-who, providentially, is just walking into the room. I shove her outside the door, joyous that she made the bus and horrified by my major mom fail of falling asleep on the job. You know you're in a bad state when the Teenager is more awake at 7:30 a.m. then you are!

The reading for Day 9 of Lent was John 2:1-12. My take-away was Jesus' compassion that overrode his schedule. He said to his mother, "My time has not yet come," but then he goes on to perform the miracle. I wonder if Jesus, like me, had a human desire for a schedule, but in his perfection he sacrificed that human desire for organization to fulfill his calling to minister in the chaos around him. Right now, in my busy busy busy days, I need to follow that example and remember that compassion and love can't be confined to pre-scheduled appointments.


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From Flannelgraph to HD

Day 6 and Day 8 both invite the prayee to reflect on Mathew 3:13-17, Jesus' baptism. It worked out well, because on Day 7 the Lent Retreat group met, and I was given some tips on how to make the reflection more meaningful.

The challenge for me was that the Lent materials suggest the prayee participate in Jesus' baptism through focused imagery. While I have a good imagination, I found myself struggling to imagine myself at the scene in a real way. Mostly because I struggle with what Jesus Christ looks like.

I grew up with the most fabulous Sunday School teacher. She should be eligible for an Oscar in Creative Arts the way she wielded flannelgraph backgrounds and figures to make the Bible come to life! Other childhood images of Jesus include pictures of a nice man, wearing a white tunic and a blue stole, looking very peaceful. My grandma had some paintings of Jesus, one a headshot of sorts and one where he was knocking on the proverbial door of someone's heart. In other words, Jesus starts off as a two-dimensional image that floats along in my brain, almost like he is attached to a Popsicle stick...

Realizing this isn't correct, I draw upon a more recent image of Jesus: that of James Caviezel in the Passion of the Christ. Those powerful images are in sharp contrast to the Sunday School Jesus. There are a few flashback scenes where we observe Jesus Christ prior to his torture and suffering, and I try and draw upon those when attempting to imagine a three dimensional person...

At our Lent Retreat, I shared my Jesus-identity-crisis, and I was reminded that there isn't a "wrong" way to view Jesus. When I think of Jesus, whatever comes to mind IS JESUS TO ME. And that sometimes, the image is fuzzy except for perhaps his eyes, or his hands. I applied this advice to my reflection today, and found flannelgraph Jesus - when given permission to exist - quickly took on a high-definition quality.


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God's Counsel

A good friend of mine has obtained a six-month internship representing God as His attorney. Well, technically she represents the Vatican at the United Nations, but still. Can you imagine how fun it must be to say, "Good morning, Your Honor, I am here representing my client, GOD..."

I plan on staying connected to her. She definitely has friends in high places.

I'm playing a bit of blog-catch-up, and Day 7's scripture was John 17:6-26. I was struck by Jesus' focus on believer unity. In a day when every denomination has a sub-denomination that doesn't get along with another sub-denomination, large scale unity seems impossible! But after dinner with GC (God's Counsel), I realized that on a micro-level, we had achieved believer unity: two very different people came together to celebrate our shared faith.


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Daylight Savings

I can't recall how many times I missed the memo on Daylight Savings, but I know its been more than once. I clearly recall walking in late to at least three different churches in my lifetime. But, as I am now older and wiser, I am very aware of Daylight Savings. Sunday went off without a hitch.

Coincidentally, Daughter has been making big strides in her development. This past year, we have stopped tucking her in at night. Instead, we pray as a family downstairs, sing a song (current favorites are the Star Spangled Banner or America The Beautiful), and then send Daughter up to bed.

Do you see where this is going?

This morning my alarm went off at 6 a.m. But I just couldn't get out of bed. I finally rolled out at 6:30 a.m., walked to the kitchen to make coffee, and noticed it was eerily quiet...

[INSERT EXPLICATIVE HERE]!

I yelled upstairs, "[Daughter!] Are you up? What are you doing?"

The response was a sleepy, "getting dressed..."

Sigh. Daughter's alarm clock is set to go off at 5:30 a.m., giving her plenty of time to get ready for school and eat breakfast without a mom following her around harassing her continually to hurry up so she doesn't miss the bus. Like today.

When Daughter gets up at 5:30 a.m., she is usually on the couch watching TV anywhere from 6:45 a.m. on a really good day, to 7:15 a.m. on a really bad day. So you can see why the 7:30 a.m. bus is going to be stressful for the 6:30 a.m. wake-up call. To make matters slightly worse and more stressful, I'm running behind now too, and for some reason we seem to be constantly in each other's way!

Thankfully, Daughter was ready in time to catch the bus. She ate a FiberOne bar while watching for the bus, instead of her leisurely bowl of cereal, piece of fruit, and orange juice, but I think she'll be OK. I did randomly find a banana in the living room after she got on the bus, but chalked it up to my good fortune and threw it in my purse for own personal enjoyment.

Daughter made the bus, I was only twenty minutes late to class, and nobody got hurt. Really, what more can one ask of a Monday?


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He Was There

Today's reflection was to imagine a journey with Jesus as my companion throughout my life. The memories that came to my mind had to do with the formation of my family.

I relived the moment when Husband's eyes met mine on one of our first encounters, and I knew that there was a lot more to him than meets the eye (and I was totally right about that one)(I mean, God was totally right about that one).

I was brought back to the moment when Daughter ran up to the front of church during worship. She was twelve, and I thought she had permission to participate. Apparently not. However, everyone in the room was moved as Daughter led the community in worship by doing the children's actions to Days of Elijah.

And I recalled sitting on a bus with the teenager on our way to a national convention... it was a three-day Greyhound bus ride to Anaheim, and it was full of adventure.

Finally, I relived the moment when, as a young child, I asked Jesus into my heart. My Grandma was there. We had always had a special relationship, and it didn't occur to me until tonight that a large part of our bond was created on that night. She passed away last July. I miss her.

I'm not gonna lie. I was pretty tired today due to my weekend retreat, and I found myself dozing off every now and then. Even so, it was a pretty fantastic collection of memories for God to put in my heart. If only I could be more contemporaneously aware of his continuous presence, his constant encouragement, and the joy he takes in my life.


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Day 4

The poem for today was How God Answers the Soul. Today I was struck by the idea that God yearns to be loved from the heart. Yesterday, I wrote that God wanted me to acknowledge him. I theorized that if I acknowledged God the way I should, my natural response would be to love Him out of gratitude as I realized how much he continually gives me.

So today I pondered God's nature. God yearns to be loved by me, from my heart? In my mind, it seems so strange that God would yearn for anything. God created me with a similar yearning for love (and sidenote, I have spent much of my life attempting to fulfill that yearning with "all the wrong things."), and I still can't quite wrap my head around the idea that God yearns for anything, least of all my love. And yet Jesus said, Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul and mind!


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Retreat

Friday night I left for my church's annual Women's Retreat. Highlights for me included playing in the annual volleyball Championship of the World, performing "Popular" with Prodigy and SmartMom (a dear friend with adorably smart children, a trait I attribute to her genetics and expert parenting), emceeing the entertainment (using many blog stories), and investing time in as many relationships as possible. Stories retold for audience enjoyment included: The Snowbank Story, Daughter's Church Dining Experience,my Lia Sophia rant, the IKEA incident, and crashing the Christmas Eve Eve Eve service.

I redirected the audience to the blog, so if you're a newbie checking it out for the first time, Welcome!


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Praise The God!

Why is it so hard to acknowledge God? (Cue DC Talk, "What will people say when they hear that I'm a Jesus Freak..."

Daughter, the resident charismatic, went through a phase when she often added "PRAISE THE GOD!" or "HALLELUJAH!" to random conversation. The funny part is that she always used it appropriately. Unlike her fascination with the term "Awwwk--ward!", one can use "Praise [the] God" appropriately with just about anything:

"No school tomorrow! Praise the God!"
"No homework! Praise the God!"
"Pizza for dinner! Praise the God!"

There was a time when I used the phrase "It's a God thing" to explain how I got through the initial years of parenting. In my mind, it sounded less conversationally jarring than a long narrative about giving God credit, but I still recall the silence that ensued when I brought it up once during the workday. (Awwwk--ward!)

While a conversation could definitely be had about the right-ness or wrong-ness of throwing out verbal acknowledgment of God in random conversation, I'm going to dodge that for the moment and ask instead, even if I don't audibly acknowledge God to others, can I even honestly say I am acknowledging God silently?

In Hosea 2:14-23, God lists off all these wonderful ways he pursues me: he responds to me faithfully, lovingly, compassionately, with righteousness and justice. He takes time to allure me to him, and responds to my needs. Not once does the passage say "And you will pursue me to the extent I pursue you."

All He says is: You will acknowledge the Lord. You will say, "You are my God."

When good things happen, is my heart saying, "Praise God!" or "Thanks God!" or even simply, "God was in that." I would be scared to know how little I acknowledge God (silently or otherwise) and how much I take credit because I worked hard/performed well/achieved that. I suspect acknowledging God is a mighty form of Pride-cancer chemo.


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I will wait for the Lord!

First, let me send you here if you are interested in doing this Lent Retreat with me. Prof. Stabile has uploaded the reading document, as well as her introductory speech.

This week's theme is becoming more aware of God's love for me. Today's reflection encouraged me to think about the miracle of my adoption, that God would select the right genetic materials and then place it in the precise environment to grow during those pivotal, formative years. I reflect on how my genetic qualities (temper, courage, confrontational, intelligent, high-energy, ambition, aggressive, sensitive) were ingredients for failure in the wrong environment, but that God placed me in a Christian home with a mom and dad who provided the environment where I learned honesty, a farmer's work ethic, the importance of family, a sense of humor and ability to laugh at myself, and where I was introduced to my Savior, Jesus Christ.

And through this experience, God put a new heart in me, that I could adopt the Teenager and Daughter into my heart as my own children.

Finally, as I read through Psalm 130, I was brought to my mountain scene again. This time I saw myself at the beginning of the journey, being handed off as a baby to my parents from my genetic parents (I imagine my genetic mother looking kind of like me, and my genetic father is kind of like Darth Vader in that he has a huge fur-lined trim on his parka so I can't see his face...). I then saw Husband and I waiting at the crossroads in the mountains, waiting for God to tell us what to do, waiting for God "more than watchmen wait for the morning." It was interesting to note that yesterday I was alone on my walk, with the Holy Spirit, but today other people joined me. I'm excited to see who else I will meet along the way!

One more thing - the dear friend who fasted for an evening meal notified me that she felt convicted to give up chocolate for Lent. Praise God that I don't feel that same conviction in the slightest!


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Fruit and Chocolate Fast

I was working late on the computer in the Spare Room last night, and suddenly I had a hankering for macaroni and cheese. I looked at the clock... and it wasn't midnight yet... so I made myself a little bowl and gobbled it up before Ash Wednesday began. Well, let's just say I gobbled it up and didn't look at a clock again.

I am admittedly a novice fast-ee. The thought of going an ENTIRE DAY without eating seems amazing. Which is probably a sign I need to get there, but baby steps, right? Another close friend fasted recently from the evening meal, which I also find fascinating. How does one go to bed hungry? Right now, I restrict myself to fruit, vegetables, chocolate and liquids during the day. Then I resume average eating behavior for dinner and perhaps indulge in a bedtime snack.

I haven't entirely made up my mind how often I will fast during Lent. Or whether I will challenge myself a little more with my fasting plan. As the Spirit leads, right? Ironically, even with fasting I have to watch my flare-ups of pride cancer! Sometimes when my tummy rumbles I begin to feel pretty self-righteous about my holy self-sacrifice...

And then I remind myself that most people fast FROM chocolate, they don't give up everything EXCEPT chocolate. And humility is restored.


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Quest #13: Connect with Christ

Last week, I realized I had developed a lethal disease: Pride Cancer.

I first became aware of my unhealthy soul-status when I dabbled in Fasting. Society isn't too keen on fasting these days. If I skip a meal because I'm over my points in Weightwatchers, or because I don't have time, or because I want to win the Biggest Loser competition, people applaud. If I skip a meal for the purpose of practicing a spiritual discipline that brings me to closer to Christ...awkward...

So I took the plunge and went on a daytime fruit and chocolate fast. Don't judge. And during the time when I would typically be mowing down on mac and cheese, I spent some time in prayer, reflection, and Bible reading. And God gave me the bad news: I had developed a huge case of pride that had begun to erode my compassion while increasing personal bitchyness about 500%.

It was sobering how quickly it had spread. But, learning from brave ChoirFriend, I resolved to begin an intense regiment of pride-chemo. My plan is to take advantage of the Lenten season and set aside 30 minutes each day for treatment. Today, while reading Psalm 139, I saw myself trudging through the snow, walking through a mountain pass, and I could sense God's presence. It strikes me that right now, more then ever, I need to be preparing for the big transitions that are probably much closer than I realize. It's exciting to think what could happen in 40 days! Husband might have a job, we might have a new house, and my volleyball team might win a gold medal!


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Hardware!

Like the Mighty Ducks or the Miracle on Ice, my volleyball team prevailed against countless odds to bring home the bacon. Except we didn't win the whole thing. So perhaps we're more like Cool Runnings? But we didn't crash and burn. Hmmm. I guess we're more like an after-school special: We played in the Championship match of the Silver Division of the tournament, and took second place (and developed some character along the way) *Cue cheesy music*

Ask me in person and I will talk your ear off passionately about the day, but to sum it all up, our first game of the day was quite reminiscent of our last tournament, and I was bracing for a very long day. As the day went on, we got progressively better, until suddenly we were in the semifinal match pushing a third game with an intensity heretofore unknown. It was amazing.

Every single girl on our nine person team stepped up their game. Nobody was the all star. It was the most beautiful team effort I have ever seen. I'm a dork... but I almost cried when we won the semifinal game and were headed for the championship. The championship game itself was intense, as we lost the first game, came back to win the second, and pushed the score to 12-12 before a serving run finished us off.

God is good. Days like these make it all worthwhile.


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** Crickets Chirping **

How does one measure a week?

In miles? 610 miles. That's a round trip to the farm, and two and a half round trips to school. The half means I'm staying at the Spare Room tonight.

In emails? I've authored 39 emails. I've received 142 emails.

In text messages? 261 sent and received, and that's short one day since my new billing cycle started on the 23rd.

In facebook activity? Only 8 actions.

Times I said "Gra-No-La" to daughter in an attempt to correct her after she told me she was bringing a grlolna bar in her lunch? 1 million. Or twenty.

Times I dropped my phone while in the bathroom and it slid into another stall and someone had to hand it to me under the divider? Only once, surprisingly.

Opportunities to hold SweetNiece? Three separate occasions this past weekend!

Number of friends leaving for Mongolia to teach English? Three.

Number of times the lights went out while at work alone late at night? Twice.

Number of checks the taxi cab accepted when I decided to hail a ride back to my car? Zero.

Number of times it took the taxi cab driver to try and create an imprint of my credit card while using only a pen and the old-fashioned carbon credit card sheets? Three.

Number of wishes granted this week? One official wish, that of SuperDuper!

Number of times I thought SuperSaver was going into labor? Twice. Once when she called me and didn't leave a message, and once during dinner when she poured water on herself.

In hours spent in class? 18.5, including time at court for my public interest externship.

In hours spent at work? 11.

Times I blogged? This week, just once. As the last semester picks up, blogging has to give way to homework. Sorry AngelOwner, you faithful reader you!


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ChoirFriend Update

Today ChoirFriend had the operation to remove cancerous cells in her breast and lymph nodes. From my short phone conversation with her this afternoon, she seems to be doing REALLY well, if you know what I mean :-) ChoirFriend is one of the most polite people I know, and to speak with her while she was under the influence of heavy-duty drugs was pretty entertaining. At the end of the phone conversation, she said "Thanks for calling. Or did I call you?"

ChoirFriend's mom reported that the doctor thinks things went well. Hallelujah! Taking a step back, the past five months have poked along while simultaneously flying by. On September 22, every day of waiting seemed like the longest day ever. Every bad reaction to chemo was a lifetime. It seemed like February was eons away.

Now that the big hurdles are hopefully behind us, hindsight reveals that time flew by just as fast as it normally does. If only we could make time slow down for the good stuff and speed up for the bad. But alas, time does not discriminate.

Congratulations ChoirFriend!


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NO SCHOOL TOMORROW

My favorite high school choir song?

The weather man is saying
That snow is on the way
The sun is disappearing
The sky is turning gray
I've listened to the forecast
I hope it isn't wrong!
And that is why I sing this soooong (that is why I sing this song...)
There is NO SCHOOL TOMORROW
NO SCHOOL TOMORROW
NO SCHOOL TOMORROW 'cause it snowed
There is NO SCHOOL TOMORROW
NO SCHOOL TOMORROW
NO SCHOOL TOMORROW 'CAUSE IT SNOWED!

Yup. Even if high school graduation was over a decade ago and you're in your 8th year of higher education (20th Grade?), a snow day is still the BEST THING EVER.


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Free To Be Me in... 50?

The counter at the bottom of the blog tells the truth: I have spent 300 days, and 257 posts (including this one), trying to free myself of those character traits that drug me down for almost 30 years. I now have a mere 50 left before I hit the bit three-o.

It's go time.


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Vague Plans

The vague plan is to move to the West Metro no later than September of this year. The ideal plan is to move in June, but several things have to fall into place for that to happen, including the timing of buying a new house and selling our own.

Today, I went to a study session on campus for the ethical test required of applicants to the bar. Students for all four area law schools were there, and in an effort to save LawLady a seat I ended up next to Jag. I sat down, noticed that Jag had a full outline written already (the class hadn't even started yet), and commented, Oh my word have you already made an outline?

He laughed and said no, it was his to do list. He had to sell his house. I apologized for my nosy-ness (I think) and then asked where his house was. He mentioned a location in the West Metro. As we continued to speak, I discovered it had almost everything Husband and I had been looking for. He and his family were even roughly on the same schedule as we were, because they had to leave the state in September for his army placement.

We both were amazed at the "coincidence" of our situations. He said it was kind of creepy (maybe he meant I was kind of creepy)... so in a very not-creepy way (?) I asked him if he was a man of faith. He said Yes, with a laugh. I responded I was pretty sure, because 1) he was married, 2) he had children, and 3) his wife packed him a pretty fantastic snack pack, including a thermos full of gourmet coffee (that smelled FABULOUS), some cashews, and other misc. snacks.

Now, admittedly I haven't seen pictures yet, so I'm not getting TOO excited. But it was an example of how God has it all under control. It's a great reminder that I can worry and search all I want, but in the end God's plan prevails, and more often than not his plan is not at all what we expect.


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False Memories

It was a rough morning.

Goal: be at the federal courthouse in St. Paul by 9 a.m. I was relatively on track to meet that goal. I told the Garmin where I wanted to go, but I wasn't confident in his answer. So I relied on my memory of where I thought I went last time.

Driving a large SUV is somewhat deceiving in parking ramps. It always seems like you're going to hit the ceiling or some low overhang. I try and remember the teenager's rule of thumb - he is taller than the car, and he doesn't hit his head on the ceiling, so he is probably fine. But this morning, when I drove up to a parking ramp that I "remembered" parking in before, my antennae hit the warning overhang and the bar looked way too low for passage.

So there I was, unable to move forward and trapped by two cars also waiting to get into the ramp. Oops. Eventually the immediate car behind me drove away in a fast and angry manner, and I was able to maneuver awkwardly into the "out" lane and drive away to the next ramp. Where I managed to drive into the contract parking line. So yet again, in a span of five minutes, I had to maneuver the massive SUV into the correct line while not hitting anything else.

I'm finally parked, and my memory was that the courthouse was right around the corner... or something. Thank goodness we're having a slight heatwave, because I was aimlessly wandering around, looking for the courthouse of my dreams. Eventually, after walking about five blocks and not seeing anything familiar, I asked my Smart Phone to show me the way. And it did. I was only about a block off, but by now it was 9:15 a.m.

I walked up to the courtroom for observation, and was escorted to the last open seat. At least it was a somewhat discreet aisle seat. I arrived halfway through the event, so remained in my seat for only fifteen minutes. Kind of horrifying.

LawLady and THH had arrived on time, but like good friends did not comment on my lateness. I was embarrassed, and projected my guilt onto LawLady, imagining sharp accusation in her eyes. Later in the day, I apologized and LawLady kindly said she knows how crazy my life is. What a good friend - although maybe she meant to say she knows how crazy I am.

Same difference?


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My Mother Does Love Me!

I must clear my mother's good name: her valentine came while I was at the Spare Room. So I guess she does love me! :-) Thanks Mom!


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My Morning Commute

This morning, in an effort to not pay $19 to park downtown, I left the Spare Room at 7:29 a.m. A record for me.

As I drove along, I eventually encountered a stoplight. As I stepped on the brake, the car started to skid on some black ice. Luckily I wasn't going very fast, and therefore wasn't in any imminent danger of rear-ending someone. I stopped, and then heard behind me "KKKKkkkkisssh!!!!" - the sound of the car behind me hitting the snowy embankment on the right-hand shoulder. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw the grew sedan with only one wheel on the road and the rest of the car high on the snowbank.

I had a short moral battle of whether to turn around or not - I mean, it was their fault for tailgating me, right? But then I thought of all the times (some more recently then others) that I had been stuck in a snowbank. I adjusted my route and returned to the scene. It turns out the driver was a young girl, either a senior in high school or a young college girl, and she had already called for help to get her off the embankment. She admitted she just didn't slow down in time, and she didn't realize it was icy (now where have I heard that before?). She seemed surprised that I stopped, and thanked me. I wanted to say something like, "Oh, I know how it feels to be stuck in a snowbank," but thought better of it, smiled, and walked back to my car.

And yes, I still made it to work on time!


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I love you a Hole Punch

"Enjoy your VD," texted Twinsfan this morning.

Venereal disease? Oh wait. Valentine's Day! While both VD's involve red shapes and sex, my hope is that you enjoyed a VD that doesn't hurt when you pee.

As moms know, VD is also a time to let your kids know you love them. The teenager received the hole punch card, while daughter's included pictures of the family. Husband's card involved a tree: "Wood you be my valentine?"

Ironically, I have yet to receive my annual love note from my mom. I'm going to assume it was a fluke of the mail, but somehow daughter and husband got their valentines from my mom on Saturday... but I didn't. Mom, are you trying to tell me something???

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Big Foot

The teenager complained, perhaps validly, that he was disavantaged because the wii fit board is too small...

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The Teenager Returns

It's always nice to have the Teenager home! While there is a lot more junk food rolling around (for example, he decided to make some queso dip this afternoon; he purchased chocolate-covered doughnuts; his bedtime snack consisted of shortbread cookies), he is also quite intrigued by the new Wii Fit Plus, and has been hard at work setting all sorts of high scores. This, in turn, spurs me on to work harder on the Wii fit, because as you know, I love to win. For example, for 18 minutes straight I ski-jumped in an attempt to dislodge his #1 ranking (and yes, I'm still at the top of the leader board).

It is amazing how healthy competition can spur us on towards goals previously thought unreachable. I can't tell you how many times we posted respectable scores in an event only to have one person shoot the moon - with the next person shooting even farther!

"Anything you can do, I can do better..."


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Glasses

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The eye doctor prescribed new lenses for both Daughter and me. I am practically blind, so much that we are having problems finding contact lenses powerful enough for me. I'm scared of lasic due to a college speech class, where one student explained in detail how you are awake as a machine sits on your eye and cuts the top layer and there is immense pain during various parts of the procedure. Sign me up when I can get knocked out.

Daughter had glasses prescribed a few years ago, but she developed a "Grandma" habit of looking over her glasses while talking, reading, etc. Previously, the eye doctor said it would be OK if she stopped wearing them all the time as long as she wore them when reading. But this time around, Daughter had enough of a shift in her vision that the eye doctor said she needed to wear glasses all the time. Daughter was not thrilled about this news, but once the new lenses came she wandered around the house exclaiming, "I CAN SEE!" She still tries to leave them behind from time to time, but overall she seems to be adjusting just fine.


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A cautionary tale about cars

Last night Hol-dog and I attended our alma mater's men's basketball game. It was close throughout, but as the clock clicked down to the last thirty seconds, the arena emptied as people ran for their cars. While the loss itself was painful, the home crowd abandonment was utterly demoralizing. And based on the traffic jams surrounding the arena, very few people actually experienced any advantage by leaving early.

As Hol-dog and I made our way into the parking ramp to her huge pickup, the line of exiting cars already snaked behind her vehicle and beyond. So we hopped in the truck, turned on the seat-warmers, and waited for our opportunity to hop into line.

It took a while before someone finally let us in, and just as we were about to reverse some pedestrians wandered into our targeted area of entry. I said something sarcastically "to" the pedestrians, but more for Hol-dog's benefit. I may have said something to the effect of, "Get out of the way ya idiots." Aaaannnd it may have included a naughty word. Don't judge, you know you've done it.

Well, after my mild insult, the pedestrians twitched in the same way that my dog twitches when she hears her name. Uh oh. After the pedestrians wandered away, and we had proceeded a few feet, I hopped out of the truck (traffic wasn't moving), shut the door, and Hol-dog repeated the mild insult at the same volume.

I heard every word. Oh dear.

So let me be a cautionary tale for all people out there. Cars are not sound-proof. Please, resist the urge to say those nasty things. Because you might think they can't hear you, but THEY CAN. Clearly. The End.


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Web Traffic

I enjoy perusing the blog's web traffic stats. Two people got to the site using the search "can i damage the alignment of my car if i hit a snowbank." A few got here by looking up the definition of mob wife, and someone clicked my blog when her lia sophia necklace broke and she wanted to know how to replace it. I'm sure my blog was very insightful for that. Oh, and two people found the blog by searching for "ear wax chunk." Gross.


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Like Her.

Today in court, a pro-se defendant was telling my supervising attorney about an incident a few months ago in the courtroom, and in an attempt to sound very reliable, he began describing the people in the room.

"Yeah, I remember the attorney. He was a short guy. Dark hair. Chubby."

I giggled.

"There was a woman too. Curly hair. She was bigger, too. Like her."

Guess who he pointed to? I was no longer giggling. (You know the face that Jim makes to the camera on The Office, when Dwight says something really weird? Yeah, I made that face to my imaginary camera in the back of the courtroom).

Oh well. I need a little motivation. I'm falling off the wagon fast. Today I was so late getting in to work (and yes, I'm late coming in five miles as opposed to seventy-five miles. I've already learned the distance is not to blame...) that I drove downtown, cutting my round-trip, school-to-court walk from three miles to a mere one mile. While the heated garage was lovely at the end of the day, the $19 fee was a bit painful...

Thanks to AngelOwner, who encouraged me to write a post tonight. She is such a loyal reader! Sunday through Tuesday nights are so busy, it's hard to fit in blog-time. The amount of activities packed into those three evenings is enough to pop a button right off... kind of like SuperSaver's jacket button popping off after an evening at Khan's Mongolian Barbecue (In her defense, she is due in March, and generally she is the tiniest little thing. On a randomly related note, SuperSaver was in true form last night, telling me about the cost-effectiveness of cloth diapers versus disposables).

As it is, I am Not due in March, yet I am also apparently in danger of button-popping (or at least according to random pro-see defendants). But I find that my ability to make good food choices increases proportionately with the amount of sleep I get. So I'm going to try and get eight hours tonight - until tomorrow!


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Mii Fit

I didn't lose weight this week. Which means I gained a little weight. Which was not surprising, what with beckoning chocolate chip cookies and all. I was a little sad, but resolved I wouldn't get too down on myself because overall, things are going well.

Coinciding with my weight plateau is SweetTalker's idea to have a Biggest Loser competition amongst my family. I'm at a bit of a disadvantage since I didn't bulk up over Super Bowl like FarmerBoy and FamousDiva, but I'm looking forward to the competition. The idea is that we all weigh in on the Wii fit, we have eight weigh-ins (every two weeks), and the person with the largest % of weight loss gets cash.

So this means Husband and I "had" to purchase a Wii fit, and local Walmart only had the Wii fit plus. Setting up my Mii was pretty funny. I started off all cute and skinny. But when the Wii learned my BMI, suddenly my little animated Mii ballooned out to the point that a significant fat roll protrudes between the top of my Mii pants and the bottom of my Mii shirt. Lovely.

But, happily, my Wii Fit Age is only 33. Unlike Daughter and Husband, who are in their Wii 40's. I'm pretty excited to add a little yoga and strength training to my day. Husband felt the need to remind me that somewhere in the house there was a forgotten and forlorn dance pad from my Dance Dance Revolution phase...

This is different... right?


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Character or Hardware?

Lots and lots of character. Funny how "lots" uses the same letter as another four-letter L word that I HATE.

Today was the much-anticipated season-opener of the Junior Olympic volleyball season. And it did not go well. While traumatic at the time, afterward Prodigy and Spitfire joined me for some "group therapy" at a local dive bar, and that made things a lot better. By this evening, I was ready to re-embrace my team with loving arms and an encouraging spirit.

See God? I've learned my lesson and developed lots of character. Enough character to last me an entire season. I'm ready for my hardware.


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