Something Kitschy

Dryad

2009-07-22T08:06:00.000-07:00

Found a really cool picture today. It reminded me of what Lucy said in Prince Caspian.

"The trees--they used to dance."

2009-07-21T05:10:00.000-07:00

So my mom posed the question--"if we have accepted Christ's atonement and as such have been called to lead a holy blameless life, how do you explain people that continue to sin in their new life in Christ?" Here is what I answered her, after a few days of contemplation, and the Holy Spirit kind of slipping me the answer. Hey, He's the Holy Spirit, it's not like I'm cheating on a test here...

I was reading in Ephesians 3 today. I read Ephesians 1 yesterday, but felt led to skip ch. 2 and come back later. Anyway, in my Holman Christian Standard Bible, the title of the beginning of ch. 3 is "Justification through Faith." I'm always wary of this "finding" Scriptures to back up my thoughts. My intentions are always to search the Scriptures for the answer, not search for my answers in the Scripture.

So in Ephesians 3, Paul is asking if the church of Ephesus thinks that their receiving the Holy Spirit was based on their works or their faith. I know it seems like an easy question to people who have been in church forever--without a doubt, God's indwelling comes from our acceptance of salvation. But the truth of righteous living still remains to be understood. Paul answers that with the question: "after beginning with the Spirit, are you now going to be made complete in the flesh?" And then he asks again if that means God gave us the Holy Spirit as a result of our good works or our faith. Vs. 6, 7--"Just as Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him for righteousness, so understand that those who have faith are Abraham's sons."

Skipping down to verse 18, "for if the inheritance is from the law, it is no longer from the promise; but God granted it to Abraham through the promise." It is my understanding that while God has a very definite standard--which was even more rigorous and detailed in the Old Testament before we were ultimately set free from the law--which we must live by, our acceptance of His forgiveness and salvation is credited as righteousness. While our good works will never be more than filthy rags to Him, accepting His atonement means that our sins are covered. It's like with real insurance. The premium is paid, and you are covered, whether anything bad happens or not.

In cross-referencing, I came across Romans 4 which also mentions Abraham's belief being credited as righteousness, even before Jesus came. It also says something very interesting by David: "How happy those whose lawless acts are forgiven and whose sins are covered! How happy the man whom the Lord will never charge with sin!" Even the sins we commit, even the backsliding that occurs, after we have staked our life in Christ, is covered and God has already forgiven us for. More than that, He will never "pin" those on us--they were all pinned on Christ. A verse in Sunday School pops in my head though, which should be taken into account--if we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness. So I suppose that one must be straight with God, one must be accepting of the forgiveness and salvation. But I cannot find anything that says that we, in the flesh, will live perfectly. Because while Christ's atonement is complete, as is God's forgiveness, His work in us is not. He has redeemed the human race through His son, but it is only when we are fully made like Him in His own realm after the shuffling off of this mortal coil that we will be able to live perfection. I think since the fall, our world became tainted, and it is not within our realm to live without human characteristics. But I don't think that's anything to fret over. After all, like in a man-woman love relationship, if they love you when you're at your worst, do they really expect you to always be at your best? "For if, while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son, [then how] much more, having been reconciled, will we be saved by His life!" "He was delivered up for our trespasses and raised up for our atonement."

If we are truly saved, how can we still live in sin? I suppose I always go back to what Paul says--somewhere in Romans, maybe?--about always doing what he didn't want to do and not doing what he did want to do. As the Bible puts it, if we have died to our flesh, and live in the Spirit, then how can we still commit sinful acts? Does it negate our life in the Spirit? I'm sure this is where the concept of "re-dedication" comes from. People accept Christ's forgiveness & love but do not give up their sinful ways, even though they try. What does this mean about our life in the Spirit? If you are dead to the flesh but, as people say, you struggle with the flesh...how can you struggle with a dead thing? Can our death to the flesh be resurrected? That would negate Christ's whole sacrifice! If it were so easy to go back against that forgiveness of sin. In Romans 6, Paul asks "how can we who died to sin still live in it?" He walks us through what Christ's death, burial, & resurrection symbolizes in our own death to sin. "Christ was raised from the dead...so we too may walk in a new way of life." Don't miss that "may." "If we have been joined with Him in the likeness of His death, we will certainly also be in the likeness of His resurrection." "A person who has died is freed from sin's claims." "So, you too consider yourselves dead to sin, but alive to God in Christ Jesus. Therefore do not let sin reign in your mortal body, so that you obey its desires. ...But as those who are alive from the dead, offer yourselves to God...for sin will not rule over you, because you are not under law but under grace."

I think people have the misconception that acceptance of Christ's salvation means we will live a perfect life. God only sees the perfect. And we have been set free from sin. No matter what. But living under grace means that we are held to a ratified standard. It does not negate the law of God. But even Christ said that a lot of the laws from the old testament would do nothing for our righteousness and that it was a person's heart, a person's belief in God and His atonement, that saved a man. So I believe Paul says in Romans that we have been set free, Christ died so that we could have a new life. But so many of us choose to go back to living the way we did before. I don't think it negates our salvation in any way, and I don't think it means that you were never saved in the first place. I think that when the Scripture refers to someone living in the flesh, they are referring to a lost person. I do not think that we live in the flesh ever again after we've chosen to walk in the Spirit. Now, we obviously sin after accepting Christ. But Paul says that anyone who lives in the flesh is an enemy of God, cannot please God. I think that once we become children of God, there will never be another day that we don't please Him. Just as with a child of our own. Once they're there, once they're born, once they're ours, they could kill somebody and we would still always love them. We maybe angry, disappointed, need to discipline...but nothing could ever change our love for them. God takes it one step further. Not only will He never stop loving us, but He has already forgiven us, already redeemed us.

Redemption & Rejection

2009-07-20T06:07:00.000-07:00

I have had a lot of thoughts in my head lately, so it's time I put a few down before they leak out. Have you ever read The Shack? It's by William P. Young, and it is quite a thought-provoking book. I haven't finished it yet, and I will caution you to take it with a grain of salt. Anyone's ideas on God are mind-opening and may in fact be the reason behind some very special one-on-one time between you & God. But they are not gospel, so don't take them as such. That said, I'll continue.

I have just finished up re-reading the Gospel of Mark, and was at somewhat of a loss as to where to go next. I've re-read John recently, and wanted to do Mark, and so it would follow that I'd finish the rest of the gospels. But that's not where I felt lead. I'm not a fan of lucky-dipping, but as I was flipping to Mark to re-cap, a line jumped out at me. I made a mental note to return to Ephesians, and I'm glad I did. God had a special message to share with me this morning, and I found it began in Ephesians 1. Verse 7 & 8 say "In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of His grace that He lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding."

I don't know about you, but to me the word "redemption" has about the same effect as seeing a man in uniform. Maybe it's my family & husband's family's rich history in the military, but when I see a man in uniform, my heart swells, my throat closes up, and I find myself tearing up. I hate getting so emotional, but I absolutely cannot condition myself to respond any differently. There is something so beautiful and proud and self-sacrificing to see them, and it makes no difference whether they never leave our shores or face danger. To think of someone that willingly enters into a very difficult situation knowing full well that the day may come that they are shipped away from their home, family, their whole life, never to return...to enter into a service for an ungrateful people with full knowledge that he or she may one day soon be required to pay the ultimate price with no "thank you," no pomp & circumstance, maybe no recognition at all. How can you not be moved by such a sight?

When I hear the word "redeem," I feel very much the same sort of physically emotional reaction involuntarily triggered. But there is so much more that goes beyond feeling when I think on the action more than the word. Especially as it pertains to God's love. I re-read verses 7 & 8 and was astounded to see these words jump out and smack me in the face: "In Him we have redemption...forgiveness...that He lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding." It immediately made me think of a passage in The Shack. Allow me to share it with you...

Says the God Trinity figure to Mack, the protagonist: "If you could only see how all of this ends and what we will achieve without the violation of one human will--then you would understand. One day you will."

"But the cost!" Mack staggered. "Look at the cost--all the pain, all the suffering, everything that is so terrible and evil. And look what it has cost you. Is it worth it?"

"Yes!" came the unanimous, joyful response of all three.

"But how can you say that?" Mack blurted. "It all sounds like the end justifies the means, that to get what you want you will go to any length, even if it costs the lives of billions of people."

"Mackenzie, we're not justifying it. We are redeeming it."

Oh, that I serve a God who not only is omniscient, always cognizant of the bigger picture, but that He is so willing to sacrifice His one and perfect Son to buy back the world that sold itself into slavery. Do you see what I am saying? I am blown away when people suggest that God, in His loving mercy, would do anything to harm or allow harm to come to His children. God, the perfect parent, the selfless lover, would never force a choice on us--He loves us too much. He wants us to choose to love Him. Understanding His omniscience, pardon the question--how could He have known that we would reject all the good, all the love, all the joy, all the freedom He offered us in favor of simply proving our own authority. I feel so like a child sometimes, in examining the Scriptures. Sometimes I feel it only illuminates how immature I've acted towards God! "The Prodigal Son at least walked home on his own feet. But who can duly adore that Love which will open the high gates to a prodigal who is brought in kicking, struggling, resentful, and darting his eyes in every direction for a chance of escape?" (C.S. Lewis) A God that knew we would reject Him at every turn, still giving us every chance to reject Him? I feel as though I am just coming to understand why Christ was so insistent that He make such a free sacrifice. He entered into a service for an ungrateful people with full knowledge that he will one day soon be required to pay the ultimate price with no "thank you," no pomp & circumstance, no recognition at all. And what was He fighting for? What did He sacrifice His life for? So that we would never be forced to love Him. How could He have made such a selfless, non-self-serving decision? Again, C.S. Lewis has my answer: "He is not proud, He stoops to conquer, He will have us even though we have shown that we prefer everything else to Him, and come to Him because there is 'nothing better' now to be had."

To people who ask how a good God can possibly allow such bad things to happen, I say this. A loving parent who gives their child everything and shows them nothing nothing NOTHING but love and acceptance--is this parent responsible when the child rejects everything poured out on them and chooses, instead, to be filled with selfishness, dejection, hopelessness, influencing the child to eventually commit suicide? Of course not. It is a choice on that child's part to turn their back on everything good and embrace their own humanity, their own selfishness, their own death. What parent doesn't, in the hopes of beckoning the child back to a place of love and joy, allow the child to make their own choices? The parent puts aside all of their own desires for their child, all of their own plans for their child, and allows them to choose their own path. "Try to exclude the possibility of suffering which the order of nature and the existence of free-wills involve, and you find that you have excluded life itself." Knowing we would irrevocably alter the perfection He had in store for us, God in his infinite love refused to take away our freedom. That is true love. As Ephesians 1:8 says, He lavished this love, freedom, sacrifice, and redemption on us, knowing and understanding full well (as an omniscient being) that we would reject and ruin it.

And where does that leave us? That suicidal child, full of remorse for what is lost, but unable to get it back, wanders lost and confused. They are so desperate for a solution that will get them out of the hopeless situation that their choices have brought them to. I have been there myself. I've questioned my existence, my purpose, the necessity of my being here. Were we only created to ruin that perfection?

"I wish I had never been born," she said. "What are we born for?"
"For infinite happiness," said the Spirit. "You can step out into it at any moment..."

The Phenomenon that is High School Musical

2009-07-14T09:55:00.000-07:00

Let me preface this post by saying that everyone, EVERYONE, I know has made fun of me for loving High School Musical. Except, that is, my 8-year-old niece, my 4-year-old nephew, and before long, I'm sure, my 1.5 year old daughter. They are the only people I know of that appreciate the honest all-American pure old-fashioned goodness that is the teenage romance movie genre, enjoy getting pumped up by sometimes pop-infused ballads, are distracted from lack of talent with big smiles and sparkly outfits, and have a passion for big cheesy Broadway numbers. And I'm ok with that.

I'll admit there are a lot of shortcomings with this movie series. Namely the 2nd movie in the series. I HATE High School Musical 2. The whole soundtrack was a) to promote the stars' individual "music careers," b) horribly and obviously dubbed into the movie, and c) lacking of any sort of real and original script, lines, etc. It's terrible. I think that I feel about High School Musical 2 what everyone else feels at the mere mention of Zac Efron, Disney made-for-TV movies, or the words "High School Musical." Which is too bad.

When the first movie came out, I sneakily rented it off of Netflix. No one but my husband would know that I watched it. Ten times. In a row. Over one weekend. Until now, I guess.

It had been so long since a Disney TV movie had captured my attention--and for all the right reasons. There was a good variety of musical styles. There was really fun and creative choreography--come on, Kenny Ortega was the DIRECTOR. So he did all the choreography. I'm still reeling from the amazement I felt over seeing Newsies all those years ago. You just can't compare to Ortega. He's unbelievable. You can watch a movie, and go, hey, this is choreographed by Ortega. It just speaks his name. Amazing.

I won't say that the stars of High School Musical were on my top actor list. Nor will they probably ever be. Sorry, Heath Ledger tops that list, and very few people have made it on the list because of that. But one, admit it: anyone who will stick through 3 of these movies has got some guts, dedication, and to be signed by Disney, you have to be a triple threat. Period. So you have a full cast, and I mean full, including supporting actors, who must be able to act, sing, & dance, to some degree. And the fact that they found someone like Lucas Grabeel (who plays Ryan Evans, half of the Broadway-bound duo) is proof enough that they have some standards. I don't think it's by chance that this actor plays the part of one of the only real talents they have at the school. It's because he is.

So onto why I think 1 & 3 are awesome. First, let's consider that the first movie was released in some countries under the title "Grease 3." If you think about it, it's the bubble gum pop version of Grease 1 & 2. Minus painted on black pants, sexual innuendos, inappropriate language & conduct, and add in a lot more razzle-dazzle. In all honesty, I loved Grease. But when I watched it again as an adult, I was blown away by the amount of crude humor, etc., that I didn't pick up on as a kid. I'm afraid today's kids would be all too privy to some of those jokes. That's what you get for making a squeaky clean 50's movie in the sex-obsessed 70's. So it's like all the fun songs, choreography, and teenage romance storyline without all the sex jokes, adults-playing-teens awkwardness, and altogether lack of innocence.

Second, I'll be the first to admit, I was SO over Troy & Gabriella by halfway through the first movie. Ok, I'm so glad that these two perfect kids found each other and bring out the best in one another and are so in love. Let's be realistic. That just doesn't happen in high school. And they definitely don't continue stay together for 3 years of high school. But in watching HSM3, a lot of the first-time-love ooey gooey faded away, and that is when I remembered...I married my high school sweetheart! I found my true love at 17, and I never looked at anyone else or considered there were other alternatives. Because to me, there wasn't. And when my daughter grows up and goes to school and hangs out with her peers and watches "their" movies, I am all for anything that shows her that true love exists even at 16 or 17. I am all for anything that shows her that she doesn't have to fit a mold. I want her to know that she really and truly can be anything, and the only thing that can stand in her way is ridiculous expectations by peers & society. I don't want to be the person that is telling her she's not really in love, she can't be in the school play because her niche is science, she can't go out for the basketball team because she's so good in choir.

So it may be cheesy, but it will make you laugh. It may be silly, but it will get your kid dancing unself-consciously. It may be full of teenage romance which deserves an eye roll all by itself, but it may just challenge your kid to be the kid that changes the rules at school. I always set my own standard in school, but how do I know my kid will be comfortable doing the same? Well I, for one, plan to surround them with the idea that their life is shaped by nothing more than their own decisions. People's expectations, society rules, and "the norm" have nothing to do with it.

This Is For You, Mr. Obama

2009-07-10T04:52:00.000-07:00

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. That's what you've always heard, isn't it? I will confess--in our house, it's usually the only one in which all 3 of us are sitting down at the same time. I've tried instituting this at dinner, and it's very difficult. Lunch is usually just my daughter banging and hollering with her pots and pans while I rush to get her food together. But breakfast is special--coffee mugs, scrambled eggs, toast...the whole 9 yards.

Most mornings at the breakfast table are all about getting as much conversation in before my husband has to dart out the door. This morning was no exception. We were talking about the dreams we'd had the night before, discussing the current political upheavals, and this morning we were specifically griping about the healthcare plan that Obama is proposing. Obviously, like most hard-working "middle class" honest clean-nosed Americans, we are very angry about it. Most rich Americans have worked hard at some point in their life to become rich. Lower class Americans are increasingly becoming a class of lazy welfare-cashing disability-faking low-lifes that are content with altering the face of the rest of the classes for the sake of getting as much as they can without ever lifting a finger. I don't mean at all to be judgmental or accusatory. I am just calling it as I see it.

My saddest thought, though, with the possible impending alteration of healthcare, was my daughter. Not only does making healthcare "free" to those who can't (read choose not to) afford it, but it puts an even bigger burden on my husband's hard-earned paycheck. He has put in a lot of blood, sweat, & tears to get his degree. He has worked overtime hours and been gone to training seminars when SC was just a baby. It has been a long difficult road, and we are just beginning to see some of the benefits. Just barely. I feel like, as we begin to come out of that dark tunnel into the light, the beautiful spread before us is being snatched away piece by piece. So I pondered my daughter's future. Not only is she already (what is it?) 30 kajillion dollars in debt before she can write her name, but what kind of career could she ever have? Let's say she wants to become (God forbid it now with this bill being pushed) a doctor one day. She will still be required to go through YEARS of college, med school, residency, etc. None of that, God-willing, will change. But what happens when all of her years of hard work are over? Will she be able to, as a hard-working middle-class-and-rising American, buy a new car for herself as a reward? Will she be able to pay off her med school debts? Will she be able to afford a decent apartment in a safe area? No.

As I said to my husband across the breakfast table, "she will have to put in just as much work, but with no pay!" Well something finally sparked a note of irritation in my little one. She slammed her waffle down and looked indignantly up at us and in her gravelly monster voice shouts "NO PAY!"

My husband & I have decided she may have a different career ahead of her--politics.

Don't Let Me Be That Fig Tree!

2009-07-09T05:25:00.000-07:00

In reading Mark this morning, I was somewhat challenged. I have always known, as nearly every verse in Proverbs declares it, that the wicked never prosper. Only righteous men, in the end, will inherit God's kingdom, will know true success, will find real joy, will lead men to victory. Because only righteous men know the power of God's might.

I was reading in Mark 11, pondering the poor fig tree that got zapped by Christ because He was hungry, and figs weren't in season. It's been a long time since I've read the gospels, and even when I read them as a child, they made for good narratives on all the stories I already knew. But reading them as an adult, with all the prejudices and ideas I've developed since being a child, I see things in a strange new light. When Christ curses the fig tree for not having fruit, even though it's out of season, I'm like "did Jesus just have a temper tantrum??" Is this like when, in one of those "extra" gospels, He gets mad and turns some kid into a pig? I kept reading through the end of chapter 11, and it dawned on me. It might not have been fig season, so the fig tree had every excuse to not be bearing fruit. But when the King of kings walks your way, you darned well better be producing something. The fig tree could have produced hamburgers, and I think Jesus would have happily munched away with only His disciples in their usual state of befuddlement. But when you are in the presence of a Holy God, you are required to shine forth! Don't offer excuses--He doesn't require you to be perfect, or even to do the norm that is expected of you. But when you are offered His grace, when He has blessed you with opportunities, when you are in His path and you see Him heading towards you and He, and He has given you all power in His name to do something ANYTHING--well I pity you deeply if you, as He walks by, offer the excuse of the seasons as you sit idly by. Because I can almost guarantee what will happen: "May no one ever eat fruit from you again!"

But wait, the best part of the story is yet to come. I'm sorry, Peter, I have to point out that you, yet again, were Master of the Obvious. They walk by the same fig tree the next morning. Peter sees it and goes "Rabbi, look! The fig tree You cursed is withered!" Can I get a big DUH? Don't get me wrong. Jesus is compassion, benevolence, kindness, love, forgiveness. But He--as part of a triune God, and in His own nature, both together--is a jealous, mighty, holy, awe & fear-inspiring God. And He created fig trees. That fig tree knew what was required of it. Do you think that just because trees, rocks, ants, grass, etc. can't talk that they wouldn't know the Holy of holies if He walked by them, standing on the ground that their roots grow in? That fig tree KNEW it was created to bear figs. That fig tree KNEW the Son of God was standing by it's branches, searching for fruit. And that's what gets me. The Scripture says that Jesus when to find out if there was anything on the fig tree. Now, without getting too deep into the mystery of the Trinity, Jesus was choosing not to access His power as an omniscient God in looking for figs. But Jesus saw the tree in the distance, and went to look for the fruit. He could have known without walking over there whether fruit was growing. But He chose to relate to the tree as a human man. For that matter, Jesus could have magically created ribs to feed the 6,000, just because He can. Do you see now the opportunity that this stubborn fig tree had on it's hands? Er...branches?

Ok, ok. I KNOW you're not a fig tree. I know fig trees have seasons, and if you want to be literal, it's not the fig tree's fault that it wasn't in season. God created the seasons, right? But when have you EVER known Jesus to destroy a beautiful creation because He's mad and hungry? Jesus wasn't talking about the stupid fig tree. He was talking about me! He was talking about every single Christian that has ever accepted Christ's free and full salvation!

Verses 22-26:

Have faith in God. I assure you: If anyone says to this mountain, 'Be lifted up and thrown into the sea,' and does not doubt in his heart, but believes that what he says will happen, it will be done for him. Therefore, I tell you, all the things you pray and ask for--believe that you have received them, and you will have them. And whenever you stand praying, if you have anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven will also forgive you your wrongdoing. But if you don't forgive, neither will your Father in heaven forgive your wrongdoing.

WOW. I have always believed that there is power in prayer. But do you understand the kind of power it is? When the disciples were trying to heal a cripple, and Jesus came upon them, the disciples were like "why couldn't we do it?" Did Jesus, in the 100% man/100% God conundrum, have more power to heal than the power the disciples had been granted? NO! That is something I have been learning lately. Jesus not only chose to relate to us on a human level, He chose to LIMIT himself in every way that we are limited. Could He have thought figs into existence onto that tree? No. I am NOT denying the deity of Christ. I am sharing the nature of Christ as I have come to understand it. Jesus could not have thought those figs into existence because He chose not to. If He had done it in His own God-power, He would have not been a real sacrifice for our sins. You don't recall them sacrificing thought-to-fig lambs on the altar in the Old Testament, do you? Jesus had to be limited in His power because He had to remain 100% human to be our sacrifice. All the miracles He performed? God the Father's power! Jesus had every resource available. He could have done every single miracle in His own power, but He chose to allow God the Father's power to work in Him and through Him to bring about the miraculous signs done. So what does that mean, coupled with the above verses? I'll tell you.

We. have. the. same. power. available. Why aren't we walking around, performing miracles, healing the sick, creating figs? That is one thing especially that Jesus had us one-upped on. As the Son of God, how could He ever doubt the power of God? How could He ever think that if He asked His father for something, that He would not grant it? Are we potential demi-gods walking around with lightning bolts shooting from our fingertips? Of course not. Don't be ridiculous. But do you know what you could be? You could be a fig tree that produces hamburgers. You could heal the sick. You could keep Zelaya from coming back to power. You could get Obama kicked out of office and put your Granddaddy in the Oval Office. Well, not your Granddaddy. My Granddaddy. But seriously. You could do anything. Why? Because GOD can do anything. Jesus does not put stipulations in those verses. If you have an open, loving relationship with everyone you know, if you are holding no darkness in your heart, if you have already believed that God has accomplished what it is you're asking for, you asking God is a formality. Think of a parent and child. I LOVE my daughter. She has everything in my power at her disposal. All she needs to do is ask for it. Literally. I would do anything for her that was in my power. But unfortunately there are no bouncy castles in my power. There is not currently 10 years of college, med school, etc., payments in my power. I don't have her perfect mate to one day marry in my power. But imagine if that parent was God of the universe. Imagine that the parent could command a fig tree to wither, and it would. Imagine that the parent could break the rules of nature and create a human out of a spirit being. Imagine that the parent had limitless power. Imagine that the parent doesn't have to break the rules or exceed the limits because they are irrelevant to Him, they don't apply to Him.

You may feel, as I do, that you've been created to be a fig tree. You may even feel that you are really really extra special Garden Club worthy fig tree--go on a missions trip, raise a child to be happy & healthy, pursue a career that changes peoples' lives, volunteer in a homeless shelter. All wonderful, worthy callings. In my opinion, they are are all callings that go above and beyond being a simple fig tree. They're extraordinary life goals. Imagine that God has created you to be a fig tree. But. But you went and accepted His gift of salvation. Guess what? You're not just a fig tree anymore. And when God is hungry for the product of His extraordinary fig tree, after He sees you in the distance and chose to limit Himself to a human life that still defied everything you know a human to be capable of, you can tell Him that it's not the right time. How can you be expected to bear fruit? It's not even possible for you to bear fruit right now. It's winter! And it's been a really dry year. Look at all the other fig trees, they don't have any fruit either! Why do You have to expect ME to produce figs? Besides, it's not even possible! You CREATED me to produce figs in the spring and summer, with lots of water, and a farmer to take care of me, and warm sunshine to make me comfy and happy. You can't just show up and expect me to make figs out of season! Well guess what. He does expect it. And for good reason. Consider yourself cautioned. Jesus PROMISED us--and when have you ever know Him to break His promise?--that ANYTHING we asked for and BELIEVED that God had already accomplished, would be DONE.

So don't look now, but I am a fig tree. And when Jesus comes walking by, I don't care what is expected of me. I don't care what I'm supposed to be capable of. I'm giving Him a freaking STEAK DINNER!!!

A Desperate Prayer

2009-07-08T14:11:00.000-07:00

Good afternoon all!

I am writing to ask anyone who may read this to be in fervent prayer for the people of Honduras. I hope that you have heard something about the situation on the news, although I would doubt it's accuracy. My mom has been to Honduras for many years in a row now. Her church visits the same mission there and has developed close relationships with those who run the mission. They are truly lovers of God and only recently has there ever been a political aspect to their relationship. But recent events have necessitated it.

Rwanda's "civil war" 15 years ago is an issue very close to my heart. The fact that it was so poorly represented in the news at the time, coupled with the fact that even though the West was aware of the injustice and didn't care enough to stop it, is enough to dredge up similar fears. Though I rarely concern myself with the news these days, I could not help but be intensely fearful for the people of Honduras whose voices are being silenced through inaccurate news reports and corrupt or misguided government officials scrambling to disguise the reasons behind the justified stand the people there have taken.

My mom has received several emails from various members of the mission there in Honduras, and they have expressed their being appalled at the lack of news coverage here in the US, or the extreme inaccuracy of it. We, as well as every single person my mom's heard from in Honduras, are very concerned that putting someone like Zelaya back into power would quickly lead to a Russian/Chinese Iron/Bamboo Curtain, and would jeopardize the amazing ministries they have going on over there.

I don't mean to rant & rave, and I don't mean to get all news-y and political, but as it's come to my attention, I am very concerned myself for the people there. Every year, my mom has come back from Honduras with amazing stories of God's compassion and saving grace for the people there, and she is always so moved that God has allowed her to be a part of something so awesome. It is no wonder that Honduras, a place where Christ's love has been particularly fervent in the mountain villages that she has visited, is under heavy attack as a country. I know that when the gospel spreads, so does persecution. But I don't want to abandon our brothers & sisters in Christ there, or the lost people still in need of the freedom of sharing the gospel, to a prayer-less predicament. I want them to know that some of us in the States are united in prayer for them.

Please pray for the people of Honduras, that God will protect them from unjust "leadership", and that our President will mind his own mounting shortcomings instead of hypocritically getting involved in another country's affairs. Pray that God will provide the people of Honduras with someone that is actually interested in the freedoms and liberties of the people, not in "electing the right official" (read "bribing into power a shamelessly corrupt dictator"). And pray for our own country and president--we should be promoting a government by, for, and of the people; to reference a letter written by the wife of former ambassador for Honduras to Spain and US, our president is in bed with all the wrong people on this issue. And it does not set a good precedent for our country's leader's stance on our own civil liberties!

Ok, I'll get off my soapbox. But please be praying!

ET Phone Home

2009-07-08T04:52:00.000-07:00

So I am already thinking of Halloween this year. A little early, I know. But one, I am a Halloween FREAK. I love it. Let's see, why would I love Halloween?

1. CANDY
2. Get to play dress up as a grown-up
3. CANDY
4. CANDY
5. Can trick small children that your horde of dum-dums are far superior to their stash of fun-size Snickers--CHA-CHING
6. Can frighten said children until they cry and not get hauled to jail
7. Like so many other wonderful things in life, I wasn't allowed to experience it as a kid. This would fall in the XFiles/Simpsons/Disneyworld-I-wasn't-allowed category.
8. CANDY
9. CANDY
10. CANDY!!!

Anyway, the reason I've been thinking about Halloween more than usual lately is because of my daughter. Those of you who were in love with the little extra terrestrial that befriended Elliot & his family, you'll remember their Halloween--one of the funniest parts of the movie. I love his funny little waddle-walk, his funny little voice, his funny little grasp on human vocabulary. Well my daughter is in what we've come to think of as the "E.T. stage." She can walk, and in fact sort of run, but it's definitely a toddler's walk/run. And she has a great grasp on speaking, but it's very parrot-y, and she has an adorable little voice right now that makes me so anxious to hear her in a few years' time. And she has the awkward coordination of, well, an extra terrestrial that is unused to earth's atmosphere. If you think about it, she's only been in this atmosphere for over a year. She was in a womb before that, obviously.

So whenever she starts parroting or running or gets excited and runs screaming, I just want to throw a white sheet over her and pretend I have a little ET friend. I bet she would even sit in a closet full of stuffed animals. So this morning was a major ET moment. I had just gotten her out of bed, and went to change her on the changing table that is getting way to small for her extremely tall toddler body. She starts wiggling and thrashing until I make that "errrrrhhh" buzzer sound to tell her to stop. And as she's heard me say so many times, she starts "be still! be still! be still!" Only from her, it's "BE stiww BE stiww BE stiww!" Classic E. T.

And now I'm having another flashback to the movie. E. T. gets in the fridge and drinks all the beer. While we definitely don't keep beer that low in the fridge for just such a reason, she does climb in the fridge and pull out things she thinks she wants. She has dragged wine bottles out of the bottom and started running. But just a moment ago, just so I could finish this darned blog, she wouldn't stop grabbing my cup of coffee. So...I let her have a teensy tinsy sip. And now I have to go deal with a baby altered by the extremely addictive narcotic, caffeine. So have a great day. I guarantee it won't be as fun as mine.

So Sad

2009-07-04T04:04:00.000-07:00

I haven't blogged in forever. It's a holiday weekend, I have no excuse. I have to actually work today--which is a good thing! But after I cut the grass and do some work, I will come back, you poor neglected blog!

A New Year, A New You

2009-01-22T04:26:00.001-08:00

I saw that slogan on some blog the other day. To think that some people get paid to come up with nonsense like that. Ridiculous. I heard a commercial the other day with a jingle that lasted about 90 seconds. You're not supposed to write a freakin song. Take a cue from Whoopi & Ray Liotta. Quick, simple, and all about pudding. You know, Corrina Corrina? Oh nevermind.

Anyway, so while I think New Years propaganda is highly overrated--no, you're not going to give up chocolate this year, and that whole "lose 50 lbs. by the high school reunion in March" will last through January, and then you'll get chocolates for Valentine's Day, and that will be the end of that. So I have to say, the fact that inspiration has struck me to better myself has nothing to do with the New Year being recently celebrated.

If you're a SAHM like me, you'll have days where you're ready to take on the world. And then you have days where you take advantage of your free downloads off Netflix and watch 4 movies in one day until you realize that your husband (who shares the account) can see all the activity on the account when he's on his lunch break. So as soon as he gets home, you're bustling around, trying to look busy and convince him that's what you've been at all day. You know, if that's ever happened to you...

So, yesterday was a marathon movie day. I can't tell you how much of a lazy bones it makes me feel like. We have a pile of laundry in our bedroom that is blocking the entrance to the bedroom. I'm having to make dinner in the laundry room because there's no room on the kitchen counters. And instead of vacuuming the carpet, I just let the baby roll around in a velcro suit to pick up all the dog hair. And last night, I'd had enough. You'll NEVER guess when the inspiration hit. I was watching one of those movies you have to watch with the door locked and pray your husband never finds out about. NOT THAT KIND! The other kind. I don't mean steamy let's-take-our-clothes-off-even-though-I-forgot-your-last-name kind of movie. I mean the REALLY embarrassing kind of movie. I was watching Step Up 2 The Streets. Don't laugh! I am a sucker for "new kid at a prep school" kind of movies. And of course there's the cute guy, and then there's this awesome chick that will take on the 100 year old prep school so that she can just dance the way she wants to. Anything that roughly fits the format. Ooo, Center Stage--another winner in that department. I just love dance movies. The thing is, all of those movies have these very well toned girls in these cute leg warmers and off-the-shoulders 80s tops, and sweatbands. Ok, no sweatbands. But I would wear a sweatband if I danced.

So after watching that, I just realize how sedentary a lifestyle I live. I mean, I'm constantly achey and sore, but I sit at the computer most of my day. And my mom is incredulous at all the things my daughter gets into but...now that she's more mobile (the baby, not my mom), it's getting potentially dangerous. And I'm blown away that even though I've been dieting, I don't feel thinner. And last time I totally did. But last time I was walking at least once a day, and trying to do the elliptical 30 minutes a few times/week. And last night I determined it was time to get back to it. Let's get physical.

So every morning I'm going to do some sort of up and at em routine--elliptical, crunches, anything. I even have a big workout ball from when I had the baby. It will be so much easier when it gets warm because we love taking walks. But I am not waiting! It's time to feel better! It's time to be the mom my daughter needs! It's time to lose the weight that's bugging me!

Ok, I need to go take a breather. All those exclamation points wore me out.

Taking Candy from a Baby

2009-01-19T08:08:00.000-08:00

As easy as taking candy from a baby, they say. Well I'm hear to tell you, I'd rather have my teeth drilled, be leeched, or get poked in the eye.

We had a busy morning--drop Daddy off at work, stop in for breakfast at Waffle House (where the 4 old ladies on staff proceeded to ignore the other patrons and stand at my daughter's every beck and call), get a wellness check-up, and pop in to Publix for a few items. Everything went very smoothly. First doctor's visit sans Daddy. We even had a late start on everything, with my husband's phone dying and us getting up at 7:30 (he's supposed to be AT WORK at 7:30). But no harm no foul. We were golden. She had no meltdowns, didn't even cry when they gave her a shot. We have a perfect baby. Everything was dandy. We came out of Publix, about to get in the car. And that's when it happened. That's when we met THE STRANGER.

Now, children, I'm sure your parents have always taught you to never talk to strangers. And don't ever double NEVER in a million years times a quadrillion...accept candy from a stranger.

But they don't happen to mention what to do when some seemingly sweet but oh so creepy lady gets out of her car, successfully blocking you from getting in yours, and digs in her purse while standing awkwardly in front of you until she produces a shiny wrapped candy bar and, without so much as asking your permission, promptly hands it over to your less-than-a-year old baby.

Our daughter had white bread for the first time this morning. The girl just doesn't eat junk. As my two previous posts probably make clear, we are quickly becoming a very health-conscious family, and I have never been more vigilant than when it comes to my daughter's diet. We're not totally organic everything, but we're pretty darn close. If she could count, she could count on one hand the times she's had processed food of any sort. I made her a cake for her dedication last fall, and I'll admit, I let her try some of it. She'll have a cake for her birthday in the spring, and she can eat to her heart's content. But my one rule is that I don't want for her to eat anything that has ingredients that I can't spell. She rarely eats anything I or a family member hasn't made from scratch by hand. That's just how we roll.

So for me to see a small nougat of processed sugar, tooth-rotting caramel, and potential-allergen-slash-choking-hazard peanuts...well all the psycho first time mom that I have successfully kept at bay began to surface. My daughter saw none of the sugary goodness, the melty messy chocolate, or the tooth-rotting abilities. All she saw was a small crinkly toy wrapped in bright shiny gold foil paper. She thought she had earned a new toy. We wait for the creepy lady to get out of our way, and I snugly buckle her into her seat, already debating how I can quickly and painlessly dispose of this monstrosity. All the signs of a happy & content baby are there--bright sparkling eyes, dimples in full swing, sporadically toothy grin. But I already have in my imagination the sad disappointed screaming baby that will surely appear in the next few minutes. I run around to my door, praying that the weird old lady will stay away and not try to baby-nap while I'm getting in the car. I slam my hand on the automatic locks--SAFE! I begin pulling out of the space, watching my daughter happily play with her "toy."

And then...I took the candy from the baby.

In retrospect, all the trepidation was for naught. She only cried for a minute or two until something else distracted her. However, I now have a new biggest fear. That someday, some weirdo stranger will produce a bigger, shinier, and at that point, tasty little morsel of candy from hell, and I won't be there to tell them to buzz off.

WHO GIVES A CANDY BAR TO A BABY?????

And for Dessert...

2009-01-18T15:34:00.000-08:00

This recipe is courtesy of one of my favorite South Beach recipe resources.

Preheat Oven: 350 F

1 15 oz. can unseasoned black beans, drained and rinsed (or 1 1/4 cup cooked dry beans)
4 eggs
1 1/2 Cups Splenda (1 Cup Wheylow)
3Tbl. unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tsp. baking powder
2 TBL. oil (or 2 TBL. unsweetened applesauce for Phase 2)
1 TBL. vanilla
1/2 Cup dry non-fat milk
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/4 Cup ricotta cheese
chopped nuts, optional

Mix all ingredients in a food processor or blender (I am playing with the amount of eggs--they are a little egg-y tasting). Pour into an 8x8 pan sprayed with cooking spray. Bake at 350 for 30-40 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

Cover with plastic wrap to keep fresh.

They sound CARAZY, but they look, smell, and even taste like real brownies. I will admit the taste is a little weird, but I think the texture is what throws you for a loop. Also, they freeze REALLY well, and are in fact much better after frozen and reheated. Defrost for 30 seconds or so, and heat for 30 seconds. We are trying these out with 2 Tbsp. of natural peanut butter mixed in the batter tonight--yum.

Also, when I am really craving something a little more than "just brownies," I've come up with mixing yogurt, peanut butter, and some splenda to taste to spread over the brownies when they're cool. Different than icing them, but I promise, it's so satisfying, and so tasty.

Of course those of you who are not South Beach-ing or interested in trying that version, you can make all the appropriate subs, like sugar/honey instead of Splenda.

Enjoy!

A Little Creativity in the Kitchen

2009-01-18T14:53:00.001-08:00

I don't know if it's the power belting and screaming solos of Jesus Christ Superstar or our new embarking on the South Beach Diet again that has sparked this creativity. Perhaps it's the sudden influx of trappings from the recent deer season we've gotten. But I have the most DELICIOUS recipe for the best hamburger in the world, and a great resulting recipe for those of you who enjoy packing as much nutrition into your kids' diets as I do.

For the burgers, forgive my random portions. I make things the way I feel they should be, not according to recipes, etc. We used venison because we had it on hand. I'm sure beef or ground turkey would be fine. But for that fresh taste, try to find organic meat or better yet, try a local farm or co-op. I made the burgers with a pound of meat. Mix in a generous dose of dill weed (tablespoon?), 2 long squirts/tablespoonish of spicy mustard, brown mustard, dijon, something along those lines. We used spicy brown mustard. Add a teaspoon and a half of ground mustard powder, a few dashes of Worcestershire sauce, a sprinkling of oregano, and a generous dash of salt (I use kosher salt, it just tastes different to me). We grilled them on the Foreman and WOW! Amazing.

As for the kids meal, brace yourselves. Every food group is covered, and my test is to go by how many colors you can see on the plate. Unless we're talking majorly pre-packaged red dye number 40 (or whatever) disasterpieces, you're safe judging this way.

Start some whole grain/wheat pasta boiling on the stove. Take about half a grilled burger patty and cut it up to small bite-size chunks. Mix the burger with cut up grape tomatoes, edamame, shredded/cut up cheddar, and mix in a dollop of mayonnaise (for that burger taste). Stir it all up and serve over the pasta. My 10 month old adored it. It's hard to get her to eat plain tomatoes--too much like her dad I guess. But she is already a healthy food eating machine, which I'm incredibly proud of. And if your kids are like mine, they require lots of options in their food and if they feel like they're eating "junk," you don't have to point out the veggies you snuck in!

Enjoy folks! I know we did!

A Day for the Record Books

2008-12-13T19:37:00.000-08:00

It has been one of those days. Well, I guess since I've last written, it's been one of those months. But this is about today.

My day began with sleeping in until 8am because my lovely sweet daughter is content to talk to imaginary friends in her crib while her daddy & I get a few more zzz's. We made a sad attempt at cleaning the house, but at least the shower is clean. I don't think I've cleaned it since we moved in. I won't tell you how long that's been. But ew.

After that, my husband and I sat and giggled like girls through endless rounds of rock paper scissors. I'm not kidding. We sat on the bed and acted like school kids on the playground. And I love every minute of it. It's just those simple moments in life that make everything else fade away. And thank God for that.

With Christmas rolling around the corner, of course Christmas bonuses were a hot topic of conversation. So I've been annoying the crap out of my hubby, making sure they're coming. As I so cutely put it in my message to his boss on facebook (yes, I do enjoy putting my husband's reputation at work at stake), I was just overcome with that Chevy Chase panic of having bought a swimming pool only to find out the bonuses weren't coming. His boss was kind enough to merit my idiotic and not-thought-out message with a response other than "so how long have you been emasculating your husband?" My husband's response to me talking to his boss without his knowledge was a little less polite, as expected. I swear, sometimes I'm tempted, nay compelled, to claim alien abduction and a brain swap. What was I thinking.

All too soon, 3pm rolled around, and we left our daughter in the hands of our first non-family babysitter. No, it wasn't the homeless bum on Main. She's a sweet young woman from our Sunday School that seems to love kids, and most importantly, SC loves her. I had no qualms whatsoever. I made the obligatory 2 phone calls home to check on her while me and the hubs took 2 hours to grocery shop. It's amazing how much fun it can be to just take a few hours with him at a grocery store of all places. I don't enjoy time away from my daughter. But nothing beats the look on her face when we walk back in the house. She was so coy and acting like it wasn't a big deal, and then her jumping beans got the best of her and she started bouncing up and down and smirking at me.

We watched The Dark Knight (thank you Netflix) over homemade fully-loaded nachos (because Taco Bell leaves a lot to be desired). We got an email stating that my brother wasn't coming to Christmas after I had predicted that he wouldn't come to Christmas. And I finally had my "period cry" triggered by my reflections on the monumental rifts in my family's relationships with one another. Have you ever looked at a situation and thought "this isn't what I imagined it would be"? Well, every day I reflect on my parents & siblings and think "this isn't how I imagined it would be. This is not, in fact, the family I grew up with. This is not the family I wanted for my daughter." But you don't get to choose your family, do you? Well, not many of them.

Fortunately for me, the one choice I got, I apparently made the right one. Because after such a hard, stressful, confusing, crazy day, what stands out the most in my mind is a bouncing, smirking baby and a game of rock paper scissors.

Rants & Raves

2008-10-27T09:08:00.001-07:00

I'm sure there will be several times in the future where I just feel like complaining about something. Today's one of those times. So before I begin, please, if you have something to whine and moan about--go ahead!

I use craigslist.com religiously. As you've seen in a previous post, we're trying to find homes for our dachshund babies. I think there are some rules for craigslist, like no selling puppies, etc. I'm NOT selling them. I'm adopting them out. They are my dog's babies, and as such, they need to find quality homes that can afford them, give them the attention they deserve, and will love them as we love our own dachshund!

I do realize there are some crazy "cat ladies" out there. No offense to cat people. But I think some cat folks are nuts. But that's the thing. "Cat Lady" doesn't mean someone who loves cats. I mean that kind of person that is CRAZY about pets/animals. The ones that are like "I don't care if your pit bull ripped off your arm and slapped you in the face with it. you should still love it." That's just stupid.

Anyway, so my post keeps getting flagged. I guess b/c people think I'm selling. I'm not, and I've already explained why. So why can't they leave me alone already? If you want a puppy, email me. If you don't mind your own business!!!

Ok, I'm done.

Down (Not My) Home Cooking

2008-10-26T16:16:00.000-07:00

We had a really fun experience today. We left church after Sunday School and went to downtown Atlanta to have lunch with Chad's college roommate & his wife (Ryan & Christy). I felt awful when his wonderful wife pointed out that we haven't seen them in 2 years. Of course she wasn't pointing it out to make us feel bad, we were just all hoping to see each other again before another 2 years goes by. I didn't realize it had been that long. Wow.

So Ryan & Christy love love LOVE southern cooking. Chad and I...don't. We just figure that we live in the South, and if we want collard greens dipped in lard, fried in oil, and served over bacon, we can go to Chad's grandparents' houses. I'm not kidding. We have a running joke of talking about new foods we're experimenting with to his grandmother, and seeing if she'll recommend putting it in the deep fryer. Some stuff I understand--I love zucchini sticks instead of french fries. But she will deep fry ANYTHING. Onion, tomato, zucchini, squash, eggplant (which is actually good!), even cabbage. Yes, cabbage. I can't imagine anything more disgusting than deep fried cabbage. I like cabbage, but I have to work hard to make it tasty enough to eat. I have a recipe for cabbage au gratin that is amazing. But deep fried???

So, regardless of the fact that Atlanta is known for several awesome restaurants, they picked this down home cooking place downtown, Mary Mac's Tea Room. It's pretty nice--I love the atmosphere. But it's not what I think of when I imagine a tea room. It feels like a giant family table. Pass the biscuits--literally! But the menu is very predictable. Not a single appetizer that doesn't start with "fried." Other dishes include macaroni & cheese. Pork chops. Fried chicken. Country fried steak (my personal NOT favorite). Sweet potatoes. Oh, and one of my other not-favorites...collard greens and "cracklin." What the heck.

However, all is not lost. There are some delicious choices there. Their strawberry shortcake is DELIGHTFUL. Very buttery. Which is good and bad--mostly good!

So it was so nice to visit with friends so dear to us, that we NEVER get to see. But of course there has to be a blight on the visit. If anyone has ever been to Mary Mac's, there is a strong likelihood that you have experienced the attack of the Backscratcher Lady. She works there, I promise. Don't bring out the pepper spray yet. But in today's day and age, as sad as it is, when a strange person (old lady or not) comes and puts hands on your baby, you bristle. It can't be helped. Worse than that, she offers no pretense. She just walks up to your table and starts petting your children. And it doesn't end there. She starts chatting up the table and then starts the complete and utter invasion of my personal space. I am VERY freaky about personal space. So she attacks my baby and then she starts digging her nails into my back like a rabid raccoon. I immediately look to Christy who offers me a "oh God, not her again...ok, breathe Rachel, she'll go away" look. I then glance at Ryan who has a "what? there's nothing wrong with a stranger coming up and touching you and your baby! I'm kidding, I knew she was coming, I just wanted to freak you out" look. I know that's a lot to put into a look, but if anyone can do it, it's Ryan. This is the guy who takes practical jokes to a new high by condensing his body into a pantry to scare the bejeezus out of me...another story for another day.

It turns out, that's her "thing." She visits with people and she scratches backs. Some of you may love that sort of thing. I do not. But it got worse. I wouldn't have hated her for scratching my back.

So she, along with the rest of the civilized world (and some uncivilized), is going on about what a gorgeous baby we have. And she drops this little gem of a compliment. "Wow, she is just beautiful. It's amazing how it takes two really ugly people to make such a beautiful baby."

*Sigh* Ok, I'll have to close abruptly here so you can be left with the complete awkwardness and disbelief that we were left in. If you hear about a manager of Mary Mac's Tea Room getting punched in the face by a rabid mother...you've got my back, right?

You Know You Want To Get A Puppy!

2008-10-23T19:29:00.000-07:00

Another lag in blogging...but I have a legit excuse this time! Our precious world dominating little angel/fascist/miniature dachshund finally had her babies. It was quite an event. There was a toss up on the number of puppies she was going to have, but we settled at a nice round 4. Two boys, two girls.

They have such hilarious personalities. One of the boys is the laziest animal I've ever seen. He falls asleep while nursing! But don't worry...he's one of the fattest of the bunch.

The other boy is the most adventurous little spirit. He is into everything. He was the first to climb out of the whelping box. And when we go outside for a little fresh air, he's the first off the blanket to waddle around in the grass.

One of the girls is Schnappi reincarnate. She is always pulling on the sheets with her little teeth, and squashing her brothers, and trying to jump her mother. And she talks. And thinks. And tries to take over the world from the whelping box.

And the last is our little baby. She is the "runt" of the litter. And no, we're not keeping her. But boy would I love to. She is just a little more than half the size of her brothers--even smaller than her sister. But oh my gosh, her face is that of a heartbreaker's! She definitely got her mom's "I'm precious, go ahead and tell me" look.

One of the little boys is already spoken for! They're such a nice couple, I feel so great about it. Of course Schnappi had to have them right before the holidays. So here's my sleazy request--if you or anyone you know is looking for a dachshund, PLEASE email me! rachelrenfro (at) gmail (dot) com

We've got to sell them before Thanksgiving. So here's the rundown. They're CKC registered, as are their parents & grandparents. The boy not spoken for is long-haired, the girls are short-haired. They have an excellent pedigree. They come with their collars & a whole bag of Science Diet puppy food. They'll be wormed, have first shots, and have health guaranteed by our vet. They're ready for adoption on 11/8/2008. If that weren't fantastic enough, they're already being socialized with little children, and they are great! Their mother and father both are excellent with kids, too. They're $475 each.

So email me if anyone you know is interested. We're between Atlanta & Athens, GA, so if you're anywhere in the area, or are willing to travel to visit them, let me know!

Pass it on to anyone who may be interested.

It's Like I'm On This Emotional...Ride

2008-10-09T05:32:00.000-07:00

This week has all but drained me. Chad & I had a stupid fight over the weekend, and by Monday, we were both completely tired from not talking. We get very juvenile in our fights. Anyway, so by Monday morning, we had brooded enough and Chad took some time off to go with me & Essie to eat lunch, do some shopping...even eat a cupcake! Yes, it was a cupcake WEEKEND. So we had a wonderful time together on Monday. I should have known it was the calm before the storm.

One of my brothers has been estranged from my family for nearly a year. The whole issue goes back several years. He even lived with us for a while. He & my dad DO NOT get along. That is intended to be a polite understatement. I'd rather not get into how volatile their relationship is. So last winter, my brother moved out to Texas. It broke my mother's and my heart. Then he came back for a visit in the spring, and it was the biggest catastrophe yet. Suffice it to say there was a lot of swearing, crying, and "don't-ever-come-back"ing. It was awful. And I'll have to admit, I was pretty resigned to give up on him myself. A first. But, as I've told my husband, this brother & I have always had that special relationship. He could push me off a bridge, and I would still love him. I don't know why. In some weird way, maybe he's my Gomer. I think that's her name. You know, in the book of Hosea, in the Bible. God tells Hosea to take a whore for a wife. She'll cheat on him. She'll lie to him. She'll bear children from other men. But Hosea was commanded to keep loving her.

Obviously my brother and I don't have marital-related issues. But we have ALWAYS stood by one another. Only when my brother's tendencies became self-destructive did I surrender his secrets to others. That was also a very trying time in our lives.

But last night, my brother told me that in December, he's leaving his job in Texas, and moving to California to live with his girlfriend. Who, incidentally, he's bringing to Christmas. I know we live in a very "forward-thinking" society, and living with someone isn't the cardinal sin it used to be considered. But you have to understand my family--an ability I wouldn't wish on anyone. My dad was a minister in the church for the majority of my & my siblings' lives. My mom was a pianist, Sunday School teacher, minister's wife...we come from a very traditional background. A decision like this from my brother will DESTROY my mother. And it will only cause the giant rift between my dad & brother to get bigger. I can't begin to describe how hateful, bitter, and volatile the relationship between my brother & my parents (but especially my dad) is.

Thank God for my husband. Last night, when my brother called to tell me everything, he said he was going to let me tell my parents. Thanks, I've always wanted to dash my mother's heart to bits. But before I called her, I talked to my husband and just poured my heart out. Of course, this morning, having had a good cry last night, I have a headache and my face is severely swollen. I am just so drained now, and my heart is so broken, I'm too tired to feel anything.

I know that God does not give us more than we can handle, if we rely on Him. And so I thank Him over and over for using my husband and baby daughter to be the healing balm my heart & soul so desperately need.

A Woman's Curse

2008-09-19T05:25:00.001-07:00

I just wanted to spend a few minutes shaking my fist. I do not think that we women got the fair end of the deal in the garden of Eden shindig.

Snakes have to crawl on their belly. Ooo, big punishment. Don't they do that anyway? Stupid snakes.

Men have to work harder. I'm sure Adam was quaking in his hemp boots. They need to work hard so they don't get on our nerves. Stupid men.

But women...it's like the snake and Adam got candy, and Eve (and all women thereafter) got an apple with a razor in it. Sure we get to have babies. That's a blessing beyond all others. But labor pains? And whether the Bible gives specific details or not, we all know what comes along with being able to have babies. Periods. Let me just say, in my experience, that's the real curse.

See, I was past due with my daughter, and was induced. Anyone who says I didn't have a natural birth can shove it. Being induced only makes things harder and faster. I barely labored for 5 hours (but by that point had a God-given epidural--ok, some rich guy who makes porsche payments with my $$ gave it, but you know what I mean), pushed for about 10 minutes, and boom--we had a baby girl. So labor did not scar me for life.

Then I had 5 months of period-free bliss on top of, of course, a period-free pregnancy. Then, I started on birth control. Let me just say that birth control controls SO MUCH MORE than no babies. It's like, all the horrible pains and feelings associated with pregnancy & birthing, I'm getting now. I laid in bed writhing in agony this morning. I got sick yesterday because I didn't eat breakfast and faced cramps & ibuprofen on an empty stomach.

I just want to say this...if there was every kind of tree in the garden, why the CRAP did Eve eat from some stupid tree with a SNAKE hanging out of it--GO FOR THE COCOA BEAN TREE, YOU IDIOT!

Temper Tantrum Tuesday: A Cupcake Day

2008-09-17T12:09:00.001-07:00

Augh, ok, I'm lazy. No, I'm crazy busy. And that's the end of my apology for the lack of attention to my blog.

So yesterday was horrible. I love love LOVE my daughter. She's 6 1/2 months old, and I've noticed that only parents of infants count their children's ages in weeks/months. That little factoid aside, I reiterate that I love her with all my heart. But as all parents must concede, there are just those days that you wish you had remained celibate if only for the blessing of living a single, solitary, QUIET life. Oh, some days, the things I would do to make it all go away.

My husband works full time (think leave the house at 7 and get home maybe at 6) 2 days a week, and is finishing up school the other 3 days/week. We have the weekends together, and sometimes we get to spend some time together on work from home days, but my husband is RELIGIOUS about working from home. Practical or not, working from home must be like working from the office for him. No screaming babies, no pregnant whiny dogs, no crazy women (well, maybe a few of the latter...but he's not married to the ones at the office). But it really makes a difference when he's home. I can go to the bathroom without worrying about her crawling in there and rolling on the germ-infested floor. I can make her bottle without her flailing and clutching at it the whole time. I can let someone else give her a bottle when I just want five stinking minutes to myself. But most of all, I have another adult there if only to have someone to yell and scream at and vent to. But yesterday was a work from the office day. And they are always the worst. I don't know what I'll do when he graduates and he goes back to work full time all the time.

Chad and I agreed when I was pregnant that if there was a day where I had just had it up to my eyeballs, I could call him and beg him to come home and he would. Well, yesterday my daughter was INCREDIBLY clingy and out of character for herself. She was whiny and unpleasant and a straight up pill. I tried and tried to make it as long as I could, knowing he got off at 5:30. But then about 5:15 I snapped. I tried calling him. No answer. He'd mentioned his phone was dead. I tried IM'ing him. No answer. Probably tied up with work stuff. I then decided to call his work phone. He picks up and says, "Hey, can I call you back?"

...I blew a fuse. I started ranting and screaming "NO! You have to come home NOW! I can't TAKE IT ANYMORE!" He asks what's wrong. Wrong? Where should I begin? But then, it's always so hard to explain to someone NOT yourself why things are feeling so off-kilter and out of control and still make sense. I just kept hollering (yes, the windows were open, yes, the neighbors were outside, yes, I air my dirty laundry) until he said "ok, I'm about to leave." That could mean he's leaving right then. That could mean he'll leave in another 30 minutes. Some days it just gets to the point that 30 minutes could be the difference between you and an asylum. I told him he had to come home now. But try as I might, I just couldn't get it across to him how desperate I was. He left about 20 minutes later, got gas, and finally pulled in about 6:15. By that point, I had circled back around from certifiable to the picture of collectedness. My poor husband thinks this means the storm has passed.

...Did I mention this is my 2nd period in over a year and my 1st since going on post-baby birth control? Pregnancy's ok, but I can't TELL you how joyous I was to welcome back pads, pantiliners, Midol, heating pads, bloating, and crazy fits into my life...

I pass the baby to him, grab my keys & wallet, and holler that we need soy milk and I'm going to the store. Soy milk may have been my excuse, but I had decided about 5:30 that today, regardless of being on South Beach, regardless of watching our money, regardless of ANYTHING, today was a cupcake day. I have made it a point since being on South Beach to simply not keep tempting goodies in the house. But today was different.

I came home to find that my daughter was still up 45 minutes past her bedtime (she gets crazy when she's off schedule), she hadn't had a bath, and one of our friends had come over to check on our pregnant dog. All social skills went out the window. I slammed the groceries down, grabbed the baby, plunked her in the tub, and when my husband came in to chastise me for being rude, I ignored him. Once the baby was in the bed, I came into the kitchen to find my husband unloading the groceries. His face brightened when he came to the last bag. "Cupcakes? This isn't on the diet." I just gave him a miserable look and said "Oh well. You don't understand what kind of day I had. It was a cupcake day." Now, me being a girl and him being a guy, I figured I could have spoken French and gotten a similar reaction. Guys just don't understand stuff like cupcake days. Except my wonderful husband...

His face just fell and he grabbed me and hugged me tight. "Oh honey, why didn't you say so? I didn't know it was a cupcake day!"

Word Vomit

2008-08-14T12:40:00.000-07:00

A new batch of freshly spoken word vomit coming right up...

To a lovely lady at my husband's place of employment who happens to live in a double wide trailer (which I'm sure, knowing her, is lovely): "Yeah, I won't go to that Mexican place in town. I mean, it's in a double wide and it just looks shady."

To my mother-in-law: "I'm just glad that Chad has a job he can work his way up in, and one day can have his boss's job and make more money."

And Chad wanted to clarify that he didn't say "gay people pee on themselves." What he actually said was "Gay people pee on each other." Thanks Chad, that makes it sound much better.

I'm sure there will be more soon.

Zucchini Bread & Word Vomit

2008-08-03T16:47:00.000-07:00

As I wrote the title to this, I thought, wow I'm going to turn away a lot of people by how unappetizing that sounds. But that pretty much sums up my week.

Chad's grandparents have a little garden and we frequently get loads more vegetables than I know what to do with. Just this past week, his grandfather (whom I ADORE and would adopt as my own if I wasn't married into the family) sent us a paper bag of several zucchini (do you add an s if it's plural???), some baby eggplants, and about 10 tomatoes. So the first night, we had Ratatouille. It was great. I got sick. That's not where the vomit comes in. I don't know why, but squash and zucchini do a wicked number on my stomach.

I tried all week to make myself use the rest of the tomatoes. But Chad had exams this past week. So I wanted to just sit around and talk to him all day, since he was home. Not that he could, but...it was fun trying to distract him. So they started getting a little soft by the end of the week. So I found a recipe for homemade tomato sauce. It was pretty good. Word to the wise--no matter how free you are about recipe proportions, pay attention when there is any form of hot peppers/spices involved. I glanced at "crushed red pepper" in the recipe list of ingredients and just poured to my heart's content. There were so many tomatoes in the recipe, I thought..."it'll balance out." I was sick after the first few bites. Chad loved it, but Chad makes a long ritual out of going to the bathroom complete with the latest edition of Popular Science and his laptop. I don't like making a production out of going to the bathroom. I go in, do my business, and get on with life. So another night of upset stomach was not fun for me. And I especially hate the kind of stomach ache you get with spicy food. It's the feeling like you will never feel better again, your stomach will just continue to burn like the pits of Hell forever. Again, this is not where the vomit comes in.

So today, I had several zucchini leftover, and I had been dying to make zucchini bread all week. As of a week ago, I had never touched the stuff. Who wants vegetable bread? And when I asked my mother-in-law whether it was sweet bread or not, she absent-mindedly remarked that it was not. Gross. Who wants salty vegetable bread? Even worse. But when Chad's grandmother sent some for us, I was tempted to take a bite. And another. And another. Until I was sitting there, staring at some crumpled tin foil and some crumbs thinking "who ate all the zucchini bread???"

So today, I made my own. And it is coming out of the oven right now. It smells awesome. I will let you know how fast it goes...if we can find something to record the speed of supersonic inhalation.

The vomit, as my title indicates, actually refers to word vomit. This unsavory phrase was coined in one of the funniest movies ever: Mean Girls. Word vomit is something we've all experienced at the most awkward moments. It's when all of these words bubble up inside of you and spew out in a mad turmoil of verbocity. And sometimes it's so much of a mess to clean up, you just sneak out the back door and wait for the cleaning crew to do the dirty work. Unfortunately for verbal spewage, there is no such thing.

I always experience the embarassment of word vomit at social gatherings. I used to be a very outgoing and carefree person. I am still very carefree in some instances. And I am very outgoing...at home...with my family. Basically, I've turned into a major homebody, and abandoned all semblance of social skills. I've forgotten how to interact completely.

So today, we went to a shower for a friend in Sunday School. Chad & I are always hoping that we'll be able to get together with people out of Sunday School to interact in a more relaxed atmosphere. When we got our wish and arrived at the home where the shower was taking place, it became clear very quickly that we would now be required to actually come up with intelligent conversation instead of blah-blah-blahing about the Sunday School book. I didn't realize what a daunting task this would be until I opened my mouth to test out the rusty mechanism.

It's not to say I don't talk. I talk like crazy to people I've known for a long time. And by reading my blog, you'd think I've never had a problem with coming up with words...wandering and unorganized as they may be. But I have lost the ability to make intelligent conversation commence when talking to people I don't know as well.

So no more stalling. Here's what I caught myself saying today. Mind you, it's out of context. But trust me when I say it was as bad as it sounds...

No I'm very thankful Sadie Claire turned out ok so far. Like, at least I didn't accidentally kill her or something.
No, it's ok. She doesn't get to play with others very often, so I don't really care if she gets hurt.

Just to counterbalance that, I want to add a few things that Chad has said over the past few weeks. Again, out of context, but boy does it make me feel better about the dumb things that I say...it's better than having a toddler.

Gay people pee on themselves!
Look, the nipples are shooting water!
You know, some people like dirty underwear.

If only they made verbal pepto bismol...

Ch-Ch-Changes

2008-08-01T07:38:00.000-07:00

Wow, it has been a busy week. And yet, I feel most days like I'm getting nothing done.

Have you ever been so overwhelmed by the state of your house (usually after a visit from family or friends), that you just can't get on top of things? I have a VERY particular way of keeping my house. I am always lobbying my family and my husband's family to come visit--I am a homemaker in every way. I love to play hostess, I love to clean, I LOVE to cook...but when you invite people into your home, you're accepting the fact that other people live differently.

When I was young, whenever we went to visit my grandmom's house, she had this weird obsessive rule about taking your shoes off at the door. I thought this was so strange--we never did that at our house. Of course, when you have 4 kids, I'm sure you just learn to let some things go. My mom had bigger issues to worry about--like no wild animals in the house, dead or alive, besides my brothers. I always thought Grandmom's rule was pretty dumb. But lo and behold, what do I demand of everyone that sets foot in my house? Shoes off, I just vacuumed! I'm more obsessive now that I have a child of my own. My husband even makes our dog wipe her paws at the door.

Some people, however, don't play by rules they don't see the point of. Long story short, I had to vacuum every day this week to feel like I had counter-balanced the amount of nastiness some shoes tracked in during our time this weekend with family. And I'm sure you've experienced the frustration of not being able to find any clean tupperware. You're sitting there, scratching your head, knowing you had an overabundance two days ago. Next week, you find them all stashed in the next cabinet over. When people come to visit, it takes me weeks to sort through all the confusion left behind. But as soon as things are set to right again, I'm dying for another visit from someone!

Changing subjects...as my title and labels suggest, we've had a big milestone we're in the process of getting past this week. The getting rid of pacifiers. In case you're wondering, my daughter is a few days shy of 5 months old. Kinda early, I know. But you must understand something.

Before we even got pregnant, my husband and I had many lofty goals of how we would raise our kids. When our sons begin to come of age, my husband plans to sit down and teach them about King Arthur's charge to his knights--it may seem a little out-dated, it may seem a little ridiculous, it may even seem a little juvenile. I think it's admirable and adorable. When our daughter starts dating one day (we're stuck agreeing on age 16 or 35), we've decided to follow the example set by our parents and be very involved to the point of laying down a contract and such. More immediately pertinent, we had decided we did not want to use formula, buy toys, or need pacifiers. Keep your chuckles to a minimum. I'm not through yet.

As much as we hated to admit it, there are some things you just can't understand until you have your own child. But I do believe a lot of goals are set on important standards. And while you may have to altar your goals or postpone them or make allowances, I think it's important to stick to standards that you feel strongly about.

We hit crunch times on occasion and had to use formula for trips to the grocery store, car trips, getting through a restaurant meal, things like that. We ended up with no toys, as we'd wished, and as my daughter began to explore the world around her, I realized some toys were better than playing with electrical outlets or trying to put the dog in her mouth. And one harrowing pre-pacifier night, when Sadie Claire was 2 weeks old, my husband was trying desperately to calm her down enough so he could get some sleep himself. It was one of the only times I've seen my husband truly frazzled. He can be a frantic person sometimes, but I'm usually there to help or she eventually calms down. This night, nothing would abate her crying. When my husband came to wake me up (which, for him, is saying something--he's an angel who lets me sleep at night even if she's crying!), I saw in his face that it was either get a pacifier, or take my husband to a mental institution. I chose the first.

We made all these rules about it. Only a pacifier at bedtime. Ok, bedtime or naptime. Ok, just when she needs it. Ok, just when we need it. Ok, whenever the heck she wants it. Ok, whenever the heck WE want it. Ok...whenever. Period. Every time, we piled guilt on our shoulders, and she became more and more dependent on the fi (what we call a pacifier). Until this week--we'd had enough. She was at the point that she couldn't sleep without it, couldn't even calm down without it. We were ALL dependent on that little piece of silicone & plastic in her mouth...

BUT NO MORE!!!

We have begun the not too long but still pretty painful process of extracting the fi...for good. I understand that as she hasn't even popped her first tooth yet, things may get a little harried. Make that incredibly tumultuous. But that is something we are willing to deal with. Yesterday marked her first day without a fi for any of her naps or at bedtime. Today marked the day after that day, during which she seemed to cry incessantly when she saw the crib looming at her. I know we will have our ups and downs and the battle of the pacifier can last years. But we hope to come out ahead of the game in this particular battle by nipping it in the oh-so-stubborn bud early.

Wal-Mart, evil larger-than-life syndicate that it is, has cleverly stocked up on a little known weapon for the fi battle. They may be intentionally marketing a vast population of teeny-boppers idly shopping for whatever falls into their dorm-storming paths, but an oh-so-clever mommy (that's me!) saw an opportunity that Wal-Mart might not have. They, along with many others I imagine, sell something called the iPillow. It is exactly what it sounds like. And for the technologically challenged, that sounds like a pillow to play your itunes through. Matter of fact, that's what the iPillow is. For some time, Sadie Claire has shown her parents' love for music. Two songs in particular have the magical lull-you-to-sleep spell down to a tee for her. I put those two songs on our little iPod shuffle, tucked it into the pillow, and voila! Instant dream-inducer.

The battle of today, and for days/weeks/months/years to come were all made worthwhile yesterday. Chad was working from home and was "dancing her to sleep" as he frequently does. I was standing by watching, an annoying mother-hen habit I have, and I see his face light up. I thought it was because she had finally gone to sleep. When I peeked over his shoulder I realized that, while she was in fact asleep, something else was capturing his attention. He says, "Look! She looks so different without her fi in." As I gazed into the face of our sleeping little angel, I felt I could see all the happiness and peace of the life that lay ahead of us, together, as a loving family.

Conviction

2008-07-25T19:17:00.000-07:00

Ok, enough silliness for now. Time for a serious blog.

Have you ever felt so convicted about something that when it comes to the thought of compromising your beliefs on it that you are completley irrational and frantic? That is how I feel about guns. Do NOT confuse me for one of those anti-violence, gun-ban political junkies. Unfortunately in our world, I feel guns may be a necessary evil. But that's because we, as imperfect humans, do not possess the kind of rationale God wished to impart to us. When one day we are made perfect in Christ, I have no doubt that guns will disappear. Not because "God Hates Guns!" but because we will be made perfect like Him, and we will no longer have need for such barbaric tools. Furthermore, I don't think the government should have their hands in such a personal cookie jar. We should have the right to bear (bare?) arms. But on a personal note, I want nothing to do with them and I don't want them near my family.

the picture in my mind's eye when I think of guns in my house

My husband and I, being of two different minds in one marriage, don't always agree on everything. But when I married my husband, I promised to trust him wholeheartedly. And I do. Implicitly and without question. I hope you can understand what I mean. I used to say no guns in the house. Period. Then I watched the Patriot. I'd seen it before. But I watched it right before my husband and I got married WITH him. And I saw the look on his face. He didn't identify with the "I'm a man, look at my neat gun, let's play cowboys and indians and try to shoot everyone even though we're grownups." I saw this look on his face that said "I would do that if it meant protecting my family. I would do anything to keep my family safe." I cannot say that I would do that. I really can't. I don't know if I would have the ability to shoot someone else. I don't even know if I could point a gun at someone, regardless. You may say "oh but what if they hurt your child." Like I said, I cannot say. But if I know me (and if I don't, who DO I know?), I would say that somehow the compassion that God has infused me with would not allow me to end the life and SOUL of another of His creations--no matter how evil. God does not create evil. He creates only beautiful things. And God has poured into me the desire to see people as He sees them. We make horrible decisions. We do stupid awful things. But we are still created by the same maker. And who am I to say that their soul deserves to be shut away from God for all eternity? I don't know their hearts. I could not consciously make the decision that someone's life wasn't as important as mine.

So, I had come to the conclusion that while I didn't understand it, I had to trust Chad that he would do what he felt he had to in order to fulfill his role as a husband and father. I did not trust him because I knew he would talk to me first about any decisions regarding keeping a gun in the house. I loved him for that all the more. But I trusted him because he's my husband and I know he has nothing but the best in mind for me and our family.

But tonight we had another force to reckon with. That of a family member who has differing views on guns and their uses--Chad's dad. I love his dad to death. I love Chad's whole family. I think sometimes my mom gets a little jealous because I'm so close with Chad's family. I could not ask for a better 2nd family! But Chuck and I do not agree about guns. They shoot recreationally. They keep guns (several) in the house. They watch videos about shooting online and on TV. They talk about what guns they're going to get next (who the CRAP needs an ASSAULT RIFLE???). Chuck has a license to carry a concealed weapon. And much to my dismay it has been in my house before--without my knowledge. I was horrified. He never flashed it, he never got it out. I understand someone doing what they felt was necessary to keep their own house safe. But this is my house--mine & Chad's. Different house, different rules. As I was about to give my darling girl a bath, Chuck informs Chad that he's bringing their guns in the house. I told Chad that was not happening. Chad told me to just go give her a bath and he'd handle it. It was handled alright. I was in the middle of the bath and I'm informed the guns are in our closet. Our CLOSET.

After a long talk with Chad (more of which, I'm sure, will follow after this blog), we came to the compromise that they could be in the garage inside his dad's truck. Which has an alarm. His dad said that was too much hassle, and just left them out in his truck. I'm sure it will be a sore subject for a long time.

Why are you freaking out? you say. Part of the reason? I had a little friend (I say little--we were both little, he wasn't a midget!) who I played with at church all the time. One weekend, he was in his dad's truck with his friend. My little friend Jonathan, knew where his dad's gun was. The gun his dad was sure his son knew nothing about found it's way into my little friend's hand. He was just showing it to his friend. His friend was just looking at it. His friend was just showing him that he knew how it worked, too. And that was the end of my little friend's life. His dad, of course, was horrified and heartbroken. His friend, of course, was ridden with guilt for years--probably still is. I could not ever see guns the same way again.

My dad kept a gun in his closet. Unloaded, of course. Aren't all guns "unloaded?" My little brothers, barely old enough to spell the word "gun" found it, loaded, and were playing with it when my mother & I happened upon them in the back of the closet. I could have one less brother if it weren't for God sparing us that particular heartache.

If all that stands between me and that predicament--close call or losing a child, either way--is simply me being so convicted about something, so unflinching in my belief, so insistent to the point of being nearly crazy...then call me the Ms. Haversham of gun safety.

The Price of "Natural"

2008-07-20T12:10:00.001-07:00

As I mentioned yesterday, we went to the fabulous Washington Farms in Watkinsville. Blueberries are all that's in season right now. I didn't care, I was ecstatic just to be doing something so down-to-earth and organic. You know how things are these days--if it's "organic" it's worth a million dollars.

I was just mentioning that to Chad the other day when we went to Publix. See, I am pretty dedicated to doing things the healthy way. I love produce straight from the source. We've sworn off Wal-mart completely--something about seeing flies crawl over the peaches makes even peach tarts sound maggoty. And honestly, Publix and other like stores aren't much better--at least not in our town. So as often as possible, we get organic everything. Natural everything. Unprocessed everything. And when we made our weekly run for things-we-forgot-to-buy-the-last-time items I noticed (as we totaled $95 for just a handful of things) that being healthy and cautious is EXPENSIVE.

So imagine my surprise and thrill when we went to pick our blueberries and for a giant gallon basket, you can pay $13 and keep the basket! $12 lands you with the same gallon in a basket, but you have to transfer to your own container to get them home. $6 gets you a half a basket/gallon. I was ecstatic until I realized how long it takes just to fill up a half a basket. I put about 10 blueberries in and felt done. That's because with hundreds of blueberry bushes, I'm just a little overwhelmed. I see a bush that looks covered in blue. I find about 3 blueberries on that full bush that looks good enough for me to want to pay for and take home. And then I'm bored with looking on that bush. I'm sure you're getting a picture of what I pain I was as a kid.

At the grocery store, a pint of blueberries is generally $2.50-$3. We got about 3 pints for $6. You say bargain, I say crack. Bargain! Crack! Bargain! Crack! You think I jest...I'm telling you, it's my drug of choice.

So it took forever to fill up just our half basket. But we felt so happy when we did. We dumped them in our reusable grocery store bag. We paid $6 and got blueberries right off the farm. Cheap and natural!

As my husband was walking away from the little cashier's hut, he saw one of the many Asians that were out there. I'm not being racist, but these guys were working the field like they were getting paid for it. It was so funny. They were rattling off something, and then we kept hearing "brueberry pancake" exclaimed in the midst of it. We were cracking up. Apparently they were really excited about the upcoming pancakes they were picking for. So my husband walked away, and he overheard this older Asian lady say "you spray pesticide?" The girl from the farms says "no, we just fertilize with natural fertilizer at the beginning of the season, and irrigate the bushes. no chemicals of any kind are used." The little old lady wanders off with a big smile on her face, muttering to herself, "Oh, that very good. No chemicars."

Apparently we weren't the only ones to be so excited by cheap and natural.

***

With all these blueberries, we're starting to get creative about how to use them. A few weeks ago in Sunday School, we volunteered to bring breakfast. I'm sure to everyone's secret dismay, I made all-natural, organic blueberry muffins. Here is the awesome recipe!

Totally Natural Muffins

1/2 c. oil
1/2 c. sugar
1 c. applesauce
1 1/2 c. whole wheat flour
1 t. baking soda
1 t. cinnamon

**What I Did Different:
Instead of sugar, I used honey. Instead of cinnamon, I loaded it with blueberries. I also tried some with cranberries. I bought dried cranberries from the store and rehydrated them...but there's much less sugar if you buy them fresh. Also, I LOVE flax seed. You can use it as a substitute for oil, in fact. 3 Tbsp. flax seed can substitute for 1 Tbsp. of oil. However, I just did 1 1/4 cups of whole wheat flour, and made up the other 1/4 cup with flax seed. And I cut out the oil and used more applesauce, another good oil substitute.

Important notes--use UNSWEETENED natural applesauce. And remember, these muffins are some very moist bad boys. So don't let them sit around. Not that they will--they will get gobbled up most likely!

No Slim Pickins Here

2008-07-19T20:22:00.000-07:00

On Saturday, we took our first adventurous excursion as a family. I hope it will be the first of many. See, before I even got pregnant, I imagined us doing all the fabulous things with our kids that I'd done with the kids I nannied, taught at preschool, babysat, etc. I was a FANTASTIC childcare worker, and both I & my husband were so impatient to begin our lives as fantastic parents.

Then we had a baby, and the only energy we could muster was to shake a rattle at her while we dozed through episodes of Law & Order. About 3 months into my daughter's life, I came out of the new parent coma and realized that not only was the house in shambles, but I was wasting what I saw as valuable learning experiences.

I spent the next month in a puddle of shame. I was a terrible parent. My child would be an idiot because I wasn't investing in her, I wasn't dangling black & white contrast patterns in front of her, I wasn't reading to her every day, I hadn't signed up for infant yoga, I was sneaking her formula, I was already asking when I could feed her solid foods, we didn't go play outside, we watched freaking CSI with her looking on! I was going to some sort of detention center for bad parents.

When I feel ashamed, I eat...a lot. When I feel ashamed, I sit around in a vegetative state. Basically it's a vicious cycle: I am lazy. I feel bad for being lazy. To feel sorry for myself, I am lazy. You see what I'm getting at.

So during her 3rd month, I talked to my husband about it. We had to set a good example for her. We needed to get out and be active. We needed to eat at the kitchen table for dinner. We needed to spend time as a family together, not in front of the TV. We needed to do something besides watch paint dry and be lazy on the weekends.

My husband, going to school AND working full time, doesn't get a lot of down time with us. It is an unfortunate fact of life for the next 9 or so months of our lives, until he graduates. I wanted her to remember spending time with her over-worked father. I didn't want my face to be the only one she smiled at, no matter how delighted that made me feel. And I wanted my husband to feel loved by her.

So this Saturday, we decided we would go to one of the little farms down the road. They have pick-your-own blueberry bushes. Rows and rows of them. They have strawberries & blackberries too, but they were already picked. But they had tons of blueberries left. So we decided that after a nice big Saturday breakfast together, we would strap ourselves together and go blueberry picking. It was a lovely little place called Washington Farms. It is not too far from our house, and we drive by it every few weeks on the way to our parents' houses, so we figured why not? It was a blast.

Me and My Very Selective Picking Skills

Chad and I enjoyed the sounds of about 4 Asian families hollering back and forth while industriously picking their basketfuls. We overheard a mom, grandma, and sister wonder unceremoniously where their youngest had gotten off to (anyone else freaked out?), we saw some grandparents with what appeared to be their sole grandson (he oozed center-of-attentionness). We had our little one strapped onto her Daddy. She enjoyed the drive out there, and walking to the bushes. About 15 minutes into picking, she was out like a light. And we enjoyed the fresh air, scavenging for the perfect blueberries, and time together as a family.

Chad with a Basket & a Little Bundle

I encourage you to get out with your family and do something new and different. You won't regret it. And you may just end up with so many blueberries, you're dreaming of blueberry pancakes and muffins until the Rapture!

Yum!

Blueberry Perfection!

In the Kitchen with Rae

2008-07-19T16:50:00.000-07:00

Some people work for the weekend. I cook ON the weekend. I LOVE cooking, baking, anything in the kitchen. Even cleaning. So I decided I'd start sharing a few top notch recipes with you.

This evening, I checked the pantry and fridge/freezer.

We have some shrimp that my husband bought on a whim. We're both incredibly enticed by the seafood counter. Except when we go to Publix. Their fish is great, don't get me wrong. But my husband is afraid of the two guys who work back there. First, they're almost identical. Second, they talk weird. Kind of a effiminate/Tennessee thing. And third, aside from the fact Chad doesn't which one is which, they always give him the once-over like they'd like to try that dish. Ha ha. Not that I blame them.

So I had shrimp, a ton of chicken tenders (sale at Ingles--grocery sales are my drug of choice), and some spaghetti noodles. I was already feeling adventurous as I'd spent part of the afternoon making one of our favorites: Oreo truffles. So I thought, why not? Hubby is here, being a Saturday, I have an extra hand with the baby...let's go all out for dinner. So I found a recipe for Chicken & Shrimp Alfredo Fettucine. I am one of those "Don't Stick to the Status Quo" kind of gals--when I see a recipe, I see a puzzle missing a piece. I never leave any recipe as is. Where's the fun in that? To me, cooking is an art.

My newest and by far most fun challenge is seeing how I can sneak a vegetable in at every meal. I know a lot of people with older kids that are not fond of veggies. Well, I have a husband who will resort to the same measures to get out of eating them. He's tried feeding the dog, he's tried to switch the frozen peas for frozen cheesesticks, you name it. One of his favorite is 14k pasta. He barely notices it's loaded with peas & carrots (get it? carrots...carats). And it doesn't have to be 14. I just like to give fun names to things. But I'll get to that some other time.

So tonight, as we enjoy our delicious protein & calcium packed pasta, and our completely non-nutritious Oreo truffles, give a thought to whipping up something in the kitchen yourself! You won't regret it!

Chicken & Shrimp Alfredo Fettucine

Ingredients:
1 lb. shrimp (med. or lg.), cleaned, peeled and deveined, and cooked
1 lb. Florentine fettuccine noodles, cooked according to directions
1 to 2 lb. boneless chicken breasts, cooked and cubed
1 pt. half & half or light cream
1 egg yolk
1 stick sweet cream butter
1/2 c. Parmesan cheese

To make Alfredo Sauce: Melt butter in a small saucepan. Place half & half in a small bowl. Add yolk. Hand beat until mixed well. Add Parmesan cheese and heat through. Do NOT bring to boil. Cream will curdle.
Add sauce to chicken, shrimp and noodles; toss. Place in a lightly greased casserole dish. Sprinkle with additional Parmesan cheese. Broil about 5 minutes or until cheese is lightly browned.

**What I Did Differently:
First, I halved the recipe. We're only two people! Second, I used spinach spaghetti. Hide those veggies! My husband (and your kids, I'm sure!) was delighted by green spaghetti.
Second, I pan-seared both the chicken & shrimp (separately, as chicken takes a little longer) in olive oil and rosemary.
Third, I put the noodles in a pan, poured some parmesan on it, poured 2/3 of the alfredo on, topped with chicken & shrimp, and drizzled the remaining alfredo on. Delish!

Oreo Truffles

Ingredients:
1 lb Oreo cookies (3 sleeves)
8 ounces cream cheese, room temperature
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract (or other for different flavors! rum, mint, almond, etc.)
1 lb milk chocolate
1/2 lb white chocolate

Directions:
Grind cookies to a fine powder. Blend cookie powder, cream cheese and vanilla extract until thoroughly mixed (there should be no white traces of cream cheese). Roll into small balls and place on wax-lined cookie sheet. Refrigerate for 45 minutes. Line two cookie sheets with wax paper. In double-boiler, melt milk chocolate. Dip balls and coat thoroughly. With slotted spoon, lift balls out of chocolate and let excess chocolate drip off. Place on wax-paper-lined cookie sheet.
10In separate double boiler, melt white chocolate. Using a fork, drizzle white chocolate over balls. Let cool. Store in airtight container, in refrigerator.

The Honeymooners Hit the UK

2008-07-18T18:35:00.001-07:00

I mention in my "about me" area that we went to England about a year and a half ago. It was the most fantastic trip I've ever taken, not only because I went somewhere new that I've always dreamed of visiting, but because it was my belated honeymoon. See, my husband and I got married "so young" according to a bunch of old people we know, and because of that we knew that a good honeymoon would be a) expensive and not something we could immediately afford, and b) an experience we wouldn't want to spend entirely in the bedroom. Hey, we're young, we had no kids, we were both virgins...we knew what was happening when we got married. And I was not going to England just to have sex. We can have sex here. So we spent an amazing night at the beautiful and illustrious Reynolds Plantation in Madison, GA. It was beautiful, it was fun, TONS of stories I will have to tell you later (don't worry, they're mostly G-rated). And best of all, they fixed me my favorite breakfast just the way I like it: soft (NOT fluffy) omelette with deli-shaved ham, swiss cheese, and mushroom (augh! to die for), blueberry muffin cut length-wise, toasted, with just a touch of butter, and BACON. Loved it. And being the kids-at-heart we are, we ordered room service at like, 3am, just because we could. Gourmet pizza (it makes a difference that it's gourmet, I swear), and hand-cut french fries. Awesome.

So obviously, we had a fantastic honeymoon night. The next day we drove up to our brand new apartment in Alpharetta where both our dads had just finished taking all our furniture, wedding gifts, all our worldly possessions. Before you think we have the nicest dads in the world, they didn't leave without putting a smattering of take-out menus on the counter and DESTROYING the bathroom (no, they didn't use the plunger, either).

After spending a wonderful year together, we decided it was time to take an actual honeymoon. We had both been dying to go to Europe, and we decided on England. I planned every leg of the trip all by myself (ok, Rick Steves helped a little). My main goals in my visit were:

1. Visit the war memorial for my Granddaddy's bomber group.
2. Meet a friend of my Granddaddy's, Sam, and let him give us a tour of the old air base.
3. See Platform 9 & 3/4.
4. Get on Platform 9 & 3/4.
5. Buy candy from a candy trolley on a real English train.
6. Hear someone say "loo."
7. Walk everywhere that we didn't take the train, like real English people.
8. Eat "pasties."
9. Be mistaken for a local.
10. Take tea.

As you can see, I had great ambition for this trip, very little of which had to do with traditional goals when visiting England (see the changing of the guard, take a picture of a pigeon, walk on London Bridge).

The trip turned out to be more than I could ever hope for. We visited the air base near Norwich and met my granddaddy's friend, Sam, one cold December morning outside the Norwich train station. We were looking everywhere for an old fart Englishman. What we found was a youngish hipster like ourselves that just had a lot invested in his family's and country's history. He was probably in his early 30's, and not in the least what we expected. After he took us around the air base, introduced us to the curator of the little museum there, and showed us the war memorial and beautiful little chapel, he took us back to his piecemeal farmhouse. I say piecemeal because the part we sat in was the 1700's era kitchen. Which was attached to the 1800's second floor. Which was held up by the 1600's living area. And it was all sealed off by an entryway from the 1500's. Unbelievable. And we took tea with him at the farmhouse.

While in London, we did see the changing of the guard, and took a picture of a pigeon. The Godfather Pigeon to be exact. Fattest thing I've ever seen. We did not, however, walk on London Bridge. Apparently the real London Bridge burned down a long time ago. They have a new one up, but it's nothing like the old one. We did go on the London Tower Bridge, though, which most people confuse for London Bridge.

We went to King's Cross Station, where platform 9 & 3/4 is located. Apparently we didn't get enough of a running start because we didn't make it onto the platform. Maybe somebody closed us out.

Apparently "real English trains" were quite misrepresented in Harry Potter. There are no candy trolleys. There are trolleys. But they have orange juice...and tea. Rarely have I ever been that disappointed.

Not one person said "loo" until we met Sam. And it wasn't for lack of trying. I set up so many people to use it. They all said "restroom" or "facilities." Not even a "W.C." out of anyone. Are they English or not??? On the walk around the air base, I mentioned to Chad who oh-so-tactfully announced to Sam that we needed to wrap up the walk because I was about to burst a pipe. When we got to the farmhouse, he mentioned the loo being upstairs. I almost fainted.

We did INDEED walk EVERYWHERE that a train wasn't available. We didn't know it in booking the trip, but the resort we stayed at was about 5 miles (still don't know what that is in kilometers) from the little town of Oakham nearby. We fell in love with Oakham. First, because we are both small town kids and a small town is a small town no matter where in the world you are. Second, because EVERY morning at about 4:30 am (believe me, it doesn't matter if it's Greenwich Mean Time or not...4:30 am is 4:30 am) we hiked from the resort into Oakham to make the early train. And we did the same hike back about 10pm every night. We walked that in the dark every time but once. I think all of that walking towards Oakham made me see it as my salvation, and when we left it for the resort, a safe haven. Every night when we got back regardless of how tired I was, I soaked my poor feet in the tub for a good 30 minutes. Stupid American that I am, I bought new boots before the trip. Word to the not-so-wise: if you buy new boots for a trip, BREAK THEM IN BEFORE THE TRIP.

One particularly blustery night in Bath, upon wrapping up our own little tour of the city, we grabbed a few pasties at a local shop. For those of you who don't know, a pastie is...a pastry. Bloody English. But they were AMAZING. I got one with spinach, and Chad got a Cornish one--chicken, cheese, and a ton of veggies. It's always those little out-of-the-way shops that have the most amazing food. We stumbled on a fudge shop in Bath. We found several pastie shops just about everywhere. And we found this little place that we would call a deli that made the most melt-in-your-mouth paninis. And being England, they didn't screw up their face at you when you asked for brie, tomato, and basil leaf on your panini. We're not very American at heart.

We were actually mistaken for locals in England. But only because we're white and were too proud to be looking at a map. Not that locals are all white, and don't look at maps. But this was your stereotypical large group of Asians speaking a foreign language and hopelessly lost. Poor them--they asked us for directions somewhere, and we were more lost than they were. Apparently we were one block away from Big Ben and didn't even know it.

All this to say, the HIGHLIGHT of my trip, no matter how boring you think it sounds, was learning a brand new word. While visiting a museum in Oxford, I was dying to go to the bathroom, and asked an attendant where the restroom was. He pointed down a small flight of stairs, and then looked at me apologetically. "They're just down there, but I'm terribly sorry, they're not very salubrious." I just kind of smiled and nodded. Silly Englishmen and their big words. What do I care whether their bathrooms are salubrious? I don't even know what that means. I was thinking...modern? trendy? What could he possibly be apologizing for? I came out and looked warily at Chad after we were both done. We seemed ok. I asked him if he'd noticed anything salubrious-looking. No, the men's bathroom seemed pretty salubrious-free. Just out of curiosity, I looked it up when we got home. It means sanitary.

Temper Tantrum Tuesday

2008-07-15T07:10:00.000-07:00

I've been reading some other blogs, and people have themes for certain days of the week. I wish I could come up with something interesting to share about myself like Total Truth Tuesdays on Jenna's blog. But the truth is, I am not interesting. So I thought I'd highlight an exceptional flaw: I have a ca-razy temper. As Bartok the Bat says on Anastasia: "This can only end in tears!" Before you go calling DFACS on me, hear me out. It's funny when you don't live with me.

My husband works full time and goes to GA Tech part time. His schedule is nuts, and it sometimes makes me a little bonkers. I am a SAHM. We have one car. In case it hasn't already hit you...this is a recipe for cabin fever.

Yesterday was a long day for both of us. Long story. Bye the end of it, Chad had been to school, worked between classes, been in lab working on a project, been stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic, run errands, and was fuming about some financial discomfort courtesy of the IRS. By the end of it, I had been taking care of a 4.5 month old, cleaned up after an in-heat dog, dusted/vacuumed/scrubbed our bedroom and bathroom, done laundry, done dishes, and fixed dinner.

By the time Chad comes home, we're both needing a major break. Then that last little straw starts tickling the back of my ear. I LOVE cleaning, cooking, generally being a SAHM. Chad loves all that I do. Really, he does. And, really, I don't need a pat on the back for every meal or dusting fit. He is very encouraging. But last night...last night was different. Chad walks in the door and heads straight to the bedroom. I come in to pass baby duty off and he says, "Where are the socks I wore that were sitting right here?"

I HEAR "Don't you ever clean? Where's my dinner? Make that baby stop talking, I can't even think. Go make me a sandwich, woman." He tosses a dirty t-shirt on the floor. I grab the nearest thing and hurl it into the wall. (A modest slice of overreaction, anyone?).

Unfortunately when I get mad, I don't pay the least bit of attention to potential damage. I had grabbed his keys and hurled it into our bedroom wall. Then I stormed into the bathroom. I hear "Oh, great" from the bedroom. After I'm sure he's gone into the kitchen, I timidly come out to face the damage. And my eyes well up with tears.

See, when I was a kid living at home, we had occasional holes in the walls from my dad and brother and their record tempers. And I hoped I would never do that. I hoped I would find healthy ways to vent my anger. I don't want to continue the cycle. And last night suggests I am doing just that.

Hence, Temper Tantrum Tuesday. Each week I will write some embarrassingly rage-filled action I committed during the week. I hope to get to the point where I'm so embarrassed by the accountability of posting outbursts on my blog that I'll eventually curb myself of such atrocious behavior. Here's hoping.

Fact of the Day

2008-07-13T18:52:00.000-07:00

Hello, my name is Rachel. I have pulpuslacerataphobia.

The first step to recovery is acceptance. For those of you completely in the dark (and that would have been me, until my husband diagnosed it through wikipedia), it is the fear of papercuts. I am TERRIFIED of them. I will avoid picking up a newly printed sheet of paper from the printer. I will avoid making dinner just so I don't have to touch the stupid recipe book. I would have avoided getting married or having a baby if it meant I didn't have to touch the certificates. I kept trying to tell Chad that I actually have a fear of paper. But then we got into this whole discussion about if your parents were killed by Nazis, would you be afraid of being killed or of Nazis? It's a very global concern--this type of fear. So call it what you want. But Wikipedia calls it pulpuslacerataphobia.

Pets N Piercings

2008-07-13T18:24:00.000-07:00

I know you're imaging this very shady establishment where your late night drunken venture to the tattoo parlor also landed you an adorably fluffy kitten named Black Sabbath. I was discussing some child-raising philosophies with Chad (my husband) this weekend, and we came up with this killer name for a pet store that also has nipple piercing options. Even matching ones for you and your dog (they do a special for your dog--8 nipples is a lot to pierce).

We were just discussing how I am dying to get my nose pierced, and I'm planning to go with my brother to his tattoo parlor in the next few months, when he goes to get another bit of ink work done. I'm super excited. So that started going into what we say when our daughter gets bigger and wants something pierced. I am so freaked out about being that "cool mom," and I want to lay a solid groundwork when it comes to rules. It's ok to be free-spirited and have tattoos and piercings and whatnot. I don't want her to have these conventional views that things that are different or weird or unusual or unique are wrong or sinful or weird. Well, I guess weird got on both sides of that. I do think that some piercings/tattoos/other stuff is weird. But that doesn't mean it's not beautiful in it's way.

My main concern is teaching our daughter that you should always be yourself. I know that sounds kitschy. If you don't like it, read another blog. I named my blog that for a reason. Ha. More than just being herself, I want her to question everything. I don't want her to follow the rules because they're there. I want her to follow the rules because she understands them and knows it's right. My parents instilled in me that it was important to obey, not for obedience's sake, but for the purpose of bringing honor to your parents and ultimately to God. I cherish that lesson. I very rarely learned things through experience. I was one of those kids that learned things by revelation. I didn't have to touch the stove to understand it was hot. My mom saying I shouldn't touch it usually sufficed. And hearing my dad say his grandma taught him an iron was hot by suggesting he stick his tongue on it was enough to convince me to listen when someone cautioned me.

But I wonder...will my daughter be an experience learner or a revelation learner? Who really knows. So what I am desperately trying to achieve even in these early months of her life is that she should listen to those who love her and heed their commands not because she should do what she's told, but because we love her and want the best for her and she can trust us when we tell her the stove is hot and she shouldn't touch it.

I try very hard to emulate Christ--more so now that I'm a mom. I do NOT always succeed. We're going to have that talk one day about why some words are "ok" for mommy & da to say, but not ok for her to say at the top of her lungs in a crowded Pizza Hut when they run out of chocolate milk. But I know that God desires for us to learn by His example instead of having to screw up, be reprimanded, and trying again. I am praying daily that I will instill in Sadie Claire the desire to be an honorable person because it's what comes naturally when your eyes are on God.

So back to the tattoo parlor with parakeets...I told Chad that I couldn't get my first earrings until I was 12, and I think that's fair to have the same rule for Sadie Claire. You may disagree, but I don't get the whole "pierce em when they're 3 months old for the sake of adorable pictures." I told him that I thought it was important to view a piercing as a responsibility. Little ones can't clean their ears, and mom/dad might forget to. Chad said, "Like having a pet. She needs to wait until she can take care of a dog on her own to be able to have a responsibility like that." And so Pets N Piercings was born.

And beyond that first hole in each ear, and her little 12-year-old self, I think that anything she wants after that she should make with one question in mind: "Am I doing this to make a statement about who I am, or am I doing this because it's "cool?" I know there are bigger issues I'll face as a mom (especially when she's 12!), but the biggest lesson in life I've learned to this day is to be true to who you are and never compromise.

The 4th, Bathtime Fun, and More

2008-07-11T05:07:00.000-07:00

First, let me begin by saying I'm sorry for neglecting the blog.

Second, my daughter just growled. Should I be concerned?

Third, I have been very sick lately. First time being sick with a baby. It's even more miserable when you're trying not to get a baby sick. At least I'm not throw-uppy sick. That would be the worst. No, I'm just sneezing, got a runny nose, aching head, sore throat. Just call me the Mucous Queen.

Fourth, we had a great fourth. Being Sadie Claire's first, her Mimi bought her a "First 4th" outfit. It was adorable, if not a little confusing. She spent lots of time in the pool. She fought nap the whole day. We would put her down for 10 minutes, and then she'd be cooing into the monitor. She is such a party animal. She can't stand to think she's missing out. So when she got in the pool, her aunt (great aunt, I think) brought out a baby float with a shade she'd bought and Sadie Claire kept face-planting into the water, trying to take a nap in the water. It was too funny. As soon as I figure out how to upload video, we might put it on here.

So since she did so well in the pool, we decided to stop putting her insert in her little bathtub. It was a success! She sat up in the tub, with her arms on the side, and when the water was draining out, she laid on her belly and held her head up just like a big girl!

She has been rolling around like crazy, too. Back to front, front to back. I am just amazed at how mobile she is getting day after day.

I know I've been letting things stack up here, but I've got to wrap things up. I'll get back soon.

By the way, why is it that air conditioners always break IN THE MIDDLE OF JULY? It seems we have a busted one on our hands. As I said, I've been sick. So I thought this afternoon while sweeping the kitchen I was coming down with a fever because it felt SO HOT. I checked the thermostat. To save $$, I have it set on 70 in the summer. It's as lukewarm as I can handle in July. Usually it's fine, but I checked--set on 70, but actual temp was 76! No thank you. So now my genius of a husband is trying to figure out what the heck could make a 1 year old a/c go caput. This is crap.

Next Stop...Constipation Station

2008-06-28T09:26:00.000-07:00

Not to be confused with the exersaucer Chad has deemed "overstimulation station," Sadie Claire is so stopped up. She hasn't pooped in 6 days. Normally I would reserve this sort of announcement for her meeting her first boyfriend, but I am getting a little concerned. Anyone have any suggestions? She's almost 4 months old, and water, juice, gas drops, and my diet have made no difference....

Reflections and the X-Files

2008-06-27T18:36:00.000-07:00

Today was a momentous day. Sadie Claire found her reflection in the mirror! We were talking to Daddy while he was in the shower and I was helping her stand on the counter. She has stood in front of mirrors plenty of times, but she's always more interested in looking at me, or more often she just ignores the reflections and looks around the room. But this morning she just popped her head up, saw herself, and just squealed with delight. She moved her mouth in every possible direction and made a million little contortions with her face and was just fascinated by it. I love watching her little wheels going in her head. It was so amazing.

On a different note, I led a very sheltered life as a kid. I'm not at all complaining. It was wonderful. But it was very sheltered. One of my brothers got a Sega Genesis when he was like, 12. It came with a 6-pack of starter games. One of those games was Street Fighter, and I always wanted to play, but I wasn't allowed. We would wait until my parents were out of the house, and I would kick butt on Street Fighter. When my parents were home, we were only allowed to play Sonic and Tetris. I now hate Tetris with every fiber of my being.

I remember when I was old enough to choose whether or not I went to church, and I chose to skip Wednesday night church a lot because I was the only kid in my class that didn't know who Dawson and Joey were. Because it came on Wednesday nights, and besides, I.wasn't.allowed. I started to watch the show on Wednesday nights instead of going to church, only to find out that I'd missed the big kiss and it was no longer a cool show to watch. I returned to Wednesday night church.

When all my little brothers' friends ran around saying "Doh!" I thought that unbaked cookies had become a form of self expression. The Simpsons were a very crass family, said my mother, so naturally I wasn't allowed.

No R-rated movies in the house, no PG-13 movies in the house, any and all PG movies had to be screened by my mom first. This is when I was like, 15 or 16. I remember being so excited that I could finally see The Little Mermaid about 5 years after it came out. It was the first not pre-screened movie I remember ever seeing. Iwasn't allowed to finish it because Ariel was disrespectful to her father. Very good point...I don't know if anyone else noticed but they were mermaids. But it was probably best we didn't finish it. I was already idolizing Ursula.

The point of all of this is that eventually I sneaked around to play Street Fighter. I eventually watched the Little Mermaid in junior high. Today I watch the Simpsons reruns ever so faithfully. I've even played Simpsons' Road Rage and I have to say I'm pretty darn good. So tonight was a huge milestone in my rebellious second childhood. Thanks to Netflix and the overenthusiasm of my sci-fi fanatic husband, I just watched my first episode of X-Files tonight. I think I'm ready to take up a crackpipe and push over a port-a-potty.

A Grow Up Day

2008-06-26T16:15:00.000-07:00

First, let me say, it is so hard to enjoy blogging when you have a taskmaster for a husband standing over you asking every 5 minutes "Are you going to blog today? I didn't see a blog for today. I hope you're going to blog today. Have you blogged yet?"

That said, I really do want to write about today! Today was one of those days where you feel like so much has happened in just the space of a 24-hour period. I have created a chore calendar for myself. I can't say how anxious I am for Sadie Claire to be able to do chores. :) And Chad asked why he doesn't have any chores except on Saturday and Sunday. I told him because he would never have the time for them during the week. He argued that point forever last night, saying he doesn't want me to do everything around the house myself. I told him that's my job. He says, well, it's partly my job, too. Well, a week ago I asked him to mix the weedeater gas and weedeat around the house. It has yet to be done. But every night he takes a few minutes to let me know how easy and quick it is to mix the weedeater gas and weedeat around the house. I'm glad it's so easy he doesn't feel the need to do it. He's a good husband and a good dad, but sometimes he's as scatterbrained as a woman with a newborn. Ha.

Anyway, so today I was so busy bustling around the house, cleaning up, taking several breaks for my new favorite time-killer -- BBC miniseries. I actually had breakfast and lunch at the table (though lunch was left abandoned when Sadie Claire insisted on an afternoon nap 10 minutes into it). I am actually starting to have fun with her. She is developing a very delightful personality. She watches EVERYTHING, and smiles at me and giggles about the most random things, and is constantly trying to grab the puppy, and is just an altogether doll. So while I was feeding her today, she was nearing the end, and she started crying. That is usually what she does to let me know she's finished. I still try to force feed her a little more, or have to stop and burp her, or have to wait patiently while she works some gas out, but usually I know it means she's full. Well, today it was just driving me nuts that she screamed every time she was full. I thought, 'no time like the present to teach her proper manners.' So I looked at her and said, "Hey, why are you screaming? Just tell me you're finished." She stopped immediately and just blinked her big blue eyes at me. She stuck her tongue in and out a few times as if to say, "Ok, I'm done." My heart just leaped. I know it may seem like such a silly thing, but after a couple of months of just a screaming infant, it is so amazing to see her begin to listen and somewhat understand me. It is just mind-boggling for me to think that she is beginning to communicate.

And speaking of communicating, she can do that, too. She makes this funny sound in her throat, like a long "k" sound -- sounds like radio static. It is her new way of calling us. She has begun to lay down in the crib while still awake and just drift off on her own. But the other night, she had been in bed about 20 minutes and we hear "kkkkkkkkkkkk...gooo.....kkkkkkkkkk....gooo." Chad picked up our monitor (it's a 2-way) and said "kkkk...gooo" back. And she answered! Too funny.

One last thing and then I'm going to eat some delicious white chocolate macadamian nut cookies and watch a movie with Chad. We have a new favorite treat at our house. Strawberry pops. Put a strawberry on a popsicle stick, dip it in yogurt, freeze, drizzle with chocolate, freeze again. Works best if you put it on wax paper, and in a giant tupperware container, to avoid freezer burn and for easy removal. Anyway, regardless of what anyone says, we let Sadie Claire try some different foods. One thing we've found she loves is sucking on strawberry pops! Of course I do what any loving mother would do -- I don't want to ruin her digestive system just yet, so I make a huge sacrifice and eat the chocolate off. But she loves sucking on the frozen yogurt and gumming the frozen strawberry. See the Picture of the Day for a little peek.

Schnappi Says

2008-06-25T16:43:00.000-07:00

Evil Genius

I can't get much further in this blog without introducing our "dog" Schnappi. I'm sure she'll come up frequently, and you need to understand her as a person before you go and get offended or are confused as to the species of creature she is or something like that.

Schnappi is our miniature dachshund. She is black & tan with a long-haired coat. She is freakishly human, and as such, she has developed a personality of her own. Any "Schnappi Says" posts in the future will no doubt be riddled with racist remarks and bigoted comments directed to the world at large. Although, more often than not, she will be commenting on specific people groups.

Here is just a brief list of things you should know about her. Keep them in mind in the future.

1. She, being a dachshund, is of German decent, and while German does not equal Nazi, she in fact is a Nazi.
2. While she is desperate to communicate with humans, she has yet to find a way to translate barks & growls to English, so we often are forced to speak for her in public settings when she wishes to make a statement. This does not usually bode well for us.
3. While she is racist on a general note, she can be particularly anti-Jew. My brother-in-law is Jewish, and she never misses an opportunity to rib him.
4. We love all types of people. Don't expect the same from Schnappi.
5. Schnappi is the name of an Egyptian crocodile on a German cartoon.
6. Schnappi is extremely patricidal, unless we're talking about the Fuhrer.
7. Schnappi uses the tub as a means of communication. Whenever we have been away from the house for an extended period of time, Schnappi runs in the house and jumps straight in the tub. She pokes her nose down the drain for about 5 minutes and growls if anyone else comes in the bathroom. When she is done, she comes out as if nothing has happened. For this reason, we don't have a land line. We're afraid of wiretaps.
8. In case you haven't figured it out yet, most people are concerned we put entirely too much stock or imagination into our dog's antics. My answer to them is you don't know what it's like to live in the shadow of an evil genius.

Schnappi's Humble Origins

Welcome and Such Niceties...

2008-06-25T15:58:00.000-07:00

Alright, it's official. I'm a blogging fiend. I have about a million ideas running through my head, but since they're all moving so fast, I'll probably forget them before I can write anything intelligent. And this will be a blog so similar in nature to a conversation-ender that it's making you feel awkward already.

What's a conversation-ender, you say? Well, you and I all know these people. They are the kind of people that are incapable of having a regular conversation. You can come to them with the most exciting news, and they will say something so off-the-wall or so rude or so...something...that the conversation grinds to a halt and you are left standing there for 2 awkward minutes. It's necessary to stand there for the 2 minutes so as not to seem rude. But boy, are those the longest 2 minutes in the world. Case in point: when I was in college, my husband (then boyfriend), Chad, had this awful roommate, Dalaine, who I got into fights with frequently. He was a world-class conversation-ender. I remember he happened to be at the apartment when we announced our engagement to Chad's old roommate (Ryan) and his wife. We come in, I'm all smiles, and Christy, Ryan's wife, spots the ring right away. We give the big announcement, and Dalaine says, "I got engaged once. She cheated on me with someone else, and we called off the wedding. Did you know the Olsen twins just turned 18? They're legal now."

We waited 2 minutes, and then went to Zaxby's.