Pics to chase away the grumpies...

Our first dance. January 8, 2005




Erin & Dad in an internet cafe in Edinburgh, Spring 2004
I was so thin!









Dad, Mom, Erin, Lauren in a cafe, immediately after their arrival in Edinburgh. We dined on sausages and sausages. Yes!





The explanation for the MacLean Cross on the Isle of Iona.


Erin and Mom on High Street in Orkney, Spring 2004




Lauren and Dad holding their pots before the great coffee cookoff. Christmas 2006


Erin & Noonie at a game in Stillwater.


Dad and Erin having a drink one night in Edinburgh.


Leah, Sasha & Lauren at the wedding.



Erin, Rich, Matt & Marah at the Twins game where Joe Mauer won the batting title and we won our division. Fall 2006


Naomi, Sarah & Erin painting Sarah's house to sell it!


Pedro with his Beaver. (An all time favorite toy that died an ugly death. We came home one day to find beaver brains all over the living room. It was a sad day.)


McClain long range shooting.


Erin & Lauren at the wedding.


Father & Daughter dance.
Love this photo.

Lauren handed out "something blue" right before the wedding. Skyy Vodka.








Graduation day. Spring 2005.

Nothing to Say

Really.
Nothing.
No, wait. I do have one thing to say.
It doesn't seem fair that friends and acquaintences can read my blog and know what's going on in my life, but they don't comment and don't keep in touch, so I don't know what's going on in their lives.
Does that seem fair to you?
Just something I've been thinking about.
It's really the only downside to blogging that I can come up with.
Gotta go--I need a slushie.

Back by Popular Demand

My goals for the weekend (in order):
1. Shave my legs. (I've literally been so busy that I haven't had time...for too long.)
2. Put away my new maternity clothes that I got over Labor Day (Aunt Kris was mildly horrified).
3. Go to church.
4. Watch a movie.
5. Finish my book.
6. Make out with my husband.

I'm invoking a "Cell Phone Free" weekend.
I will check my phone periodically, but I do not intend to take it with me anywhere, and it will most likely reside on my dresser for the duration of the weekend. Consider yourselves informed.
If you want to see me, come on over! Just be warned, there may be a little of #6 going on.
If it's important, try Richard's phone.
I love you all...I just haven't had a break in a while. See my previous blog. I never actually got that day off.

My Week Last Week

Monday: Blogger Breakfast.
Tuesday: Can't remember. Probably worked late.
Wednesday: Cancel Bible Study. Make two dozen cookies and muffins.
Thursday: Alpha.
Friday: 14-15 week check up. Attempt to clean the house, but crash at 7pm with an headache.
Saturday: Spend the day babysitting Timmers (OMS, so fun!), then cleaning the house for THE BACHELOR PARTY.
Sunday: Clean the house (again) for the Beckenbach's to arrive. Drive to Hudson for dinner with Kristi.
Monday: Work half-day, want to kill sales reps. Meet the Beckenbach's for lunch, then spend the evening hanging out. (What better?!)
Tuesday: Back at work, trying to keep my eyes open.

Can I have a day off now?

Flowers and Jewelry

Remember the guy who totally freaked when I told him I was pregnant?
Well, let's talk about that.
Guys like that are my cross to bear.
When I was in middle school I had a neighbor. I don't want to tell you his name, but it rhymes with "Madam." This Badam really had a crush on me--and looking back on it, it was very sweet. One time he bought me a pair of earrings at a renaissance festival that he went to with his mom, and he brought me flowers when I stayed home from school sick. I, of course, was horrified by this, being 12-years-old, and not at ALL interested in a relationship with someone I thought was a total nerd. (Mom, be fair--he was a nerd.) In fact, I gave the earrings back because I didn't want to give him the "wrong idea." I'm sure it hurt his feelings and what on earth "wrong idea" can there be at the age of twelve?? Oh well.
Despite my horror, however, I could never tell Radam to get lost. I knew, even at 12 (through 17) that he was just a nice kid and it was sweet that he had such an high opinion of me.
Well...this sort of thing started with Padam and continued through high school (rhymes with Schad), though I did finally tell Tchad to scram, when his parents came to my house WHILE I WASN'T THERE and sat across from my parents fo plan our future together. Then in college it was a guy whose name rhymes with Revin Romstomski (though it turns out he actually preferred my BFF--crisis averted).
And now that I'm a career woman, it's Rhymes-with-Rom. Dom manages to come to my desk EVERY time I'm on the phone. He STANDS there just listening, then usually has something silly to tell me. Any chance he has, Pom pats me on the back and asks how I'm doing.
I confess--I'm not treating Nom with much grace today.
I'm doing fine, Lom. I'm a titch crabby, ready for the week to be done, and for the last time I. DON'T. WANT. YOUR. RENAISSANCE. FESTIVAL. EARRINGS.

Omens

Today is going to be a bad day.
Know how I know?

• I left work last night at 6pm.
• I stayed up past midnight baking cookies and muffins for the United Way Bake Sale today.
• It took me an hour and a half to drive 17 miles to work this morning.
• I passed a man walking a three-legged chihuahua.

These are all bad signs.
Here's what I made last night--they turned out REALLY well.

Chocolate Chip Cream Cheese "Muffins"








Frosted sugar cookies
They wer put in a similar package to the "muffins."

Thank the Good Lord for Cream Cheese

OK, friends.
I found a recipe on a different blog for Chocolate Chip Cream Cheese "Muffins."
OH. MY. STARS.
They will make you thank the good Lord for cream cheese. I'm not kidding. Although, let's be honest. I do that every day.
I had everything in my cupboard to make them. Go for it. You won't regret it.

1 (8 ounce) package cream cheese, softened
1/4 cup butter, softened
1 egg, room temperature
1/2 cup cream
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup white sugar (I used a titch more because I wanted them sweet)
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Lightly grease 12 muffin cups or use paper liners. Beat cream cheese and butter together until fluffy. Beat in egg, cream and vanilla. Combine the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Stir flour mixture into cream cheese mixture until flour is moistened. Fold in chocolate chips. Spoon batter into prepared muffin cups filling them 3/4 full. (Batter will be thick.) Bake in preheated oven until tops are golden, about 20 minutes.

You can thank me after you thank the good Lord.

Dear Co-Workers

Dear Co-Workers,
It is SO funny when you come to check out my candy dish, find it empty, and pretend to dump out the imaginary candy. I almost pee my pants with glee when you turn the bowl upside down and bang on the bottom like it's a ketchup bottle, as if you might be able to get out any last pieces. I also think it's really hilarious when you dig around in the empty candy dish pretending to fish for any leftover candies. I'm crying with laughter.
Really, it cracks me up every time. You are a comic genius.
No! No, I don't think you're a freeloading vulture at all! Are freeloading vultures as hilarious as you?
Um, NO. No way!
YOU are funny.
Funny, funny, funny. Really. Good joke.
Love,
Erin

Goals Met

I met all of my goals for the weekend and even managed to get some laundry done and paint my toenails.
Success!
I had a VERY nice breakfast this morning with The Swamp Hare and MammaKnows, where I got to see Chef Felton at work. We feasted on cheesy grits (mmmmmm....), chocolate chip cookies, and peanut butter pancakes. Oh, and don't forget the french pressed coffee! (Decaf, of course.) The best part was finally getting to meet the Felton crew including three, yes THREE Rhodesian Ridgebacks. I learned that their barks (their incredibly loud barks) are much, much bigger than their bites. They were incredibly sweet dogs. Honestly, though, I couldn't get over their size. I'm used to a dog who is actually a little shorter than our cat...not a dog that can be saddled! (Mark, I would NEVER do that!)
All joking aside, I wish I could have stayed longer and kept talking, and of course, Cheryl and the kids were as delightful as I had hoped.
It was a really nice breakfast, er, I mean, Dentist Appointment...

Sixteen Weeks

At 4:00pm today, I asked Richard if football was almost over.
He laughed.
It could be a long season.

Cool Video

I don't usually like stuff like this, but this video has a cool ending. It's worth the 5 minutes.
Sorry, I can't figure out how to put it on my blog like all you cool kids can.

http://www.godtube.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ee73e63418003b47d7d5

This weekend

My goals for this weekend:
1. Clean the bathroom (this is long overdue).
2. Scrub the kitchen floor (even more overdue).
3. Nap.

If I miss your call it's obviously because I'll be so busy.

Man or Woman?

On the way to work this morning, I rode most of the way behind a little green station wagon.
I watched (risking my own peril) with rapt attention as the driver of that little green Toyota transformed from a woman to a man.
First (s)he rubbed and rubbed her face with a wipe or cloth, which I can only imagine was make-up removal, and then she removed her wig revealing a very bald head.
He split off and took 35E North while I continued on 694, so I didn't get to see any other costume changes.
I usually finish getting ready for work in my car, too...I just didn't expect a complete gender transformation while creeping along the "un-weave the weave" project.
Haha--gives new meaning to "weave."
Oh, I kill myself.

You can't make this shit up.

New Life Rule

Dear Young Women around my age;
A new Life Rule for you:
Don't wear shoes in which you are unable to walk.
3-inch heels' sex appeal is severely diminished if you walk like a club-foot.
Sincerely yours,
Erin

The Truck

WARNING: DINKS story to follow.

On Monday night, while we were still in Wausau, Richard found a truck online in Hudson that he just HAD. TO. HAVE.

We met the seller at Tom Thumb in North Hudson (old school Hudsonites know exactly what I'm talking about, even though it hasn't been Tom Thumb for years), and the truck was deemed perfect by Richard. He called the seller the next morning to tell him we wanted to arrange a purchase.

As soon as the seller agreed, I sprang (sprung?) into action. I opened a savings account at my company's credit union and started the process for getting a loan. I have never done this before and it was more than a little stressful. I was away from my desk off and on for over two hours and was literally sweating by the time I finally got back to my desk, and I don't mind telling you, my Secret for Women failed me yesterday. No matter, though, I got everything settled, retrieved a cashier's check for the seller, handed off the check to Rich, who picked up the truck in Maplewood last night.

He came home later that night and said, "I need to take a break. I feel like things are going too fast."

My mom asked me if it's a "male compensation truck."

How to answer that?

It's a big truck. (Pedro can't get in it without help, and I'm afraid to drive it.)

When we got it, it was covered in NRA, bowhunting, and fishing stickers--complete with "bullet holes" on the tailgate. It even had cammo seat covers and an antenna that looks like a fishing pole. I'd say this truck was definitely compensation for somebody.

Decide for yourself:

Just some stuff.

Oh, it was hard to come to work this morning!
We had a nice weekend at my parents' shopping and napping, alternately.

On my drive this morning, I got to thinking about all the schools that are starting today, and all those kids out there who are "new." I prayed for the "new kids" this morning, whether they are transplant kids who moved over the summer, starting a new school--like moving from Middle to High School, or whatever the case may be.
It's tough to be the new kid, and even though some of us may have never moved, we all know what it feels like to think we are the outsider.
I dunno. Just something I was thinking about.

In other news, several people have asked for a Richard update.
In short, he's doing really great!
He's been hobbling around without crutches as much as he dares, and even drove home from Wausau last night (no small feat, since he had to clutch with his broken leg). His mood is substantially lifted since he can get up and about a lot more easily and has been able to help me a lot more around the house, which is nice. (I didn't realize how much I relied on him for household duties until he couldn't help any more!)
He's got another check-up appointment next week, where we are hoping to see a vast improvement, and hopefully start to get rid of those crutches!
Thank you very much for all your thoughts and prayers. We are both VERY ready to be a crutch-free household!

On my iPod today:
Jason Mraz
Makes me feel like I'm in college again.

Quote of the Day

"Blogging is cheaper than drugs or therapy and just as good."
-Aunt Kris

Although, I have to say, I could really go for a Blooody Mary or a Beergarita right now.
This could be a very long pregnancy...

Hockey Sticks, Underwear and Magic Kits

I seem to have really started something with this whole CAR thing.
I just want to say thank you to everyone for your COMPLETE and staggering honesty.
Aside from a few anomalies, I think my theory has been more than proven.
I didn't know that I'd be looking for a winner, but I think it's obvious that Swampy is the clear winner for the sheer variety (albeit a pretty weird variety) of stuff in his truck.
Well done, Swampy!

Other prizes go to:
Kelli for best one-liner.
(Can we start a list of Kelli-isms?)
Naomi for the least amount of clutter.
Sig for the most practicality.
Dad for the most escapist.
Brenda for the most encouraging response (I'm not filthy! Just busy!).

Turning Japanese

A co-worker just walked by whistling "Turning Japanese."

And now I'm going to kill. myself.

What's in a car?

This morning on my way in from the parking lot, I watched a girl about my age apologizing to her co-worker (about 50) for how messy her car was. I couldn't see it, but I could imagine it.
If her car is anything like mine it serves more as a moving home than a car and contains:

• at least two full changes of clothes
• two pairs of shoes
• two empty cereal bowls
• photographs
• jewelry
• shopping bags
• coffee cups
• make-up
• CD's
• cell phone accessories
• a lifetime supply of pregnancy reading material (though this may be just my car)
• several magazines and books (aside from the prego reading!)
• dog toys
• about 500 straw wrappers

I have a theory about cars. I think that the older you get, the LESS like a moving junk-drawer your car becomes. Most people my age have cars that look like mine, and I can't think of many people over the age of about 45 that have cars with more than a few crumbs or the odd travel mug.

So...help me prove or disprove my theory. What's in your car? Are you older or younger than 45 (you don't have to give specifics, just over or under)? I'm sure there exceptions to my rule, but I can't think of any!

A haiku for my car (sorry about the formatting!)

My car's a junk draw'r,

Babe will only make it worse.

Half-way to fifty!

Wonderful Weekend

I had a jam-packed, but WONDERFUL weekend.
My weekend got to start by spending Friday night with my Noonie helping her get ready for college. My heart was so full of pride and love all night that when it came time to go home, I couldn't hold it any longer. We cried and hugged in the driveway, and I had so many things that I wanted to tell her that they all came tumbling out at once, "I love you, I'm proud of you, and always wear your shower shoes."
Luckily, we both had a giggle over this and I was able to go home. I don't mind telling you I cried most of the way home.
It's not that she's SO far away, or that she's not coming back or that I won't see her. It's that her life is taking off now, and I can't wait to see where it goes. I hope I get to be a part of it.
Ok, I have to stop now. (tear, tear)
Saturday, I had the pleasure of attending Nene's baby shower. What a joy to celebrate that little miracle who is well on its way here! Not much longer and we'll get to FINALLY meet little Presh!
Then on Saturday evening, we took Dad out to dinner at the Lexington to celebrate his 60th Birthday. It was such a wonderful night filled with laughter and good food that I didn't want to leave.
Yesterday was spent lounging and folding laundry (I wouldn't have it any other way), and it was very hard to leave my quiet, dark house this morning with everyone still sleeping.

I'll try to put up some photos later today.

Eat THAT, SwampHare!

Actually, please don't. I don't want to share.
Lauren decided last night that we HAD to make cheesecakes (plural) from scratch.
This, of course, didn't start until about 9pm. So...you guessed it, the 'cakes were still cooling when I forced her to go home at midnight.
So much for getting that bathroom cleaned.
Oh well. We had a good time anyway.

Here I am pretending that I helped.

The true chef.

Does that sound stupid to you?

My Aunt Kris blogged a while ago about the ultimate question to be applied in any situation that one ponders his or her life's next action.
Her point?
Before making any moves in life. ANY moves, apply the question:
"Does that sound stupid to you?"
If the answer is yes, you should re-think.
Simple, right?

Here are some examples:
"I think I'll reproduce."
Does that sound stupid to you?
"I think I'll sell my car and use the money to buy a forklift."
Does that sound stupid to you?
"I think I'll quit my job and join the circus. My kids won't mind."
Does that sound stupid to you?
"I think I'll paint the kitchen orange."
Does that sound stupid to you?

I could go on.
Ideas?

Women's Wisdom and Truisms

Let's pretend that I'm starting a forward. You know, one of those AWFUL forwards with photos of Maxine in it that we can all pass around?

These are thoughts just for the girls.

• Why doesn't head hair grow as fast as armpit hair?
• Or leg hair?
• When one is pregnant, the whole world suddenly seems pregnant.
• Never fails: Buy a new purse; spill M&M's in the bottom of the new purse before the end of the week.
• "Drama Queen" is contagious.
• Doesn't matter when you "went" last. You lay down on the OBGYN's table and instantly have to pee.
• Put any number of women alone in a room together and you can count on hearing gruesome horror stories about labor and delivery. Especially if one of those women is pregnant!
• A good friend is hard to come by, but a mother and sister are irreplaceable.

Forward this to 10,000 of your best friends before noon today and you will be very lucky.

Let's hear some of your words of Womanly Wisdom.

Happy Anniversary!

Today is Jared & Naomi's third anniversary.
Congratulations, guys!
Love you!

Dog for Sale

Better yet--
Free Dog.

I just spent my evening deep cleaning the carpet, among other household chores. (I actually have a little energy--can you tell?)
I went to take a shower, and came out to find my take-out cup completely destroyed and root beer ALL OVER the carpet in TWO ROOMS.
Where's Pedro?
He is nowhere to be found. What a shock.

I think I actually know what it feels like to have an aneurysm now.

Being Real 6

Today completes the Being Real series.
If you have any questions or want to talk about anything you've read, please let me know!
I pray that God touches hearts the way mine was touched upon reading Carla's story.

Being Real 6
I have 3 "friends" that have had abortions. Let me clarify the word friend. Two of them I haven't seen for years and one no longer talks to me. They are in denial, only they don't know it. They said things to me like, "it has just never bothered me the way it has bothered you." or "it doesn't affect me anymore" or "it was a tough decision but a good one for me."
I have some questions for you. Why do you drink like a fish? Why do you smoke like a chimney? Why do you swear like a sailor? Why do you under or over eat? Why the medication for depression? Where is the peace? If your decision was so right, shouldn't you be at peace with it? Why are you so angry?
You are running girls. Running.
The only way to healing is through the pain.I have had amazing resources to face into the pain. Forgiven and Set Free by Linda Cochrane is a book that I couldn't have done it without. I'll Hold You in Heaven by Jack Hayford is another one.
I have spoken at our church and I have led a bible study. I have talked on the phone for 3 hours to a girl who eventually did have one. I submitted my experience as a sworn affidavit in a court case. The rest of my story remains to be written.
My children will someday ask me what an abortion is. They will get an earfull. Ya think? I will be speaking at the state capitol in January, holding my sign that says I Regret My Abortion. Someday I want to stand outside Meadowbrook with only love written on my face or volunteer at a pregnancy center.
The truth will penetrate all of the lies. I have no doubt.
I never even typed what I thought about the father of my child. I denied him fatherhood. Husbands have taken their wives, boyfriends have taken their girlfriends to get abortions and they are hurting too. There are millions of hurting men and women. Millions of dead babies.
Abortion hurts us all.
And just what would my 16 year old child be like today???

Fall

So apparently it's fall now.
When did this happen??

Being Real 5

This is the 5th installment of 6. I have to say that Being Real 5 touched me more than any others, and I still think about it regularly, since my own baby is about this big.

Pressing on...
Pat and I told everyone and their dog that we were pregnant. We were more than happy. We were walking on sunshine.
When I was about 10 weeks along I started to bleed and had an ultrasound. There was no heartbeat. The doctor I was seeing must have gotten straight A's in her How To Be Heartless classes. She was simply not concerned in the least. I was wasting her time. She asked me what I was going to do. What?! She asked me if I wanted a D & C. If that was a drug, give me some.
As she walked out of the room she flippantly stated, "Oh, you'll pass a plumsized clot." HHHMMMMM That is so not what happened.
I went into labor. I had contractions and was simply not prepared to deliver our baby in my hand. I remember screaming, "My baby, my baby, my baby!" Pat wanted to help his wife, but didn't know how. Who kept screaming?!
I looked hard at my child wanting to memorize everything, take a photo with my brain. Tiny feet with tiny toes, hands, fingers, arms and legs, a tiny rump and a sweet little face.
And then it hit me. Oh, dear Lord! I was this far along before my abortion! I had killed one, such as this?! A tiny unborn baby?!
There was absolutely no denying the humanity of this precious child! Nothing like truth slapping you upside the head. I finally understood. I got it.
This was the first in a series of events that led me down a path of repentance. My pastor mentioned abortion now and again. I thought I might throw up when he did. How could I reconcile what I thought was "my choice" and the faith that I claimed I now had? I could not. I repented and asked Him to forgive me for what I had done. I curled up in a ball in His lap and cried. I whispered, "Help me, please. I don't know what to do."
He heard me. I finally found The One. The only One who could remove my wet blanket of shame and bring me out into the light.
His name is Jesus.

Richard Update 2

Everything went perfectly at Richard's appointment this afternoon.
He is cleared to drive (which means he can come to my first OB appointment tomorrow!!) and start putting more and more weight on his leg. The doctor was very excited to learn that Rich hasn't used any pain meds in the last 3 days and encouraged him to keep stretching his joints to keep them mobile.
God is so good and has taken care of us abundantly on this.
Thank you, again, to everyone who has helped us survive the last two weeks. It's really meant the world to both of us.
Now, at long last, here are some x-rays that we might have stolen from the doctor's office while we were alone in the exam room. Tee hee.

This is an x-ray from Thursday night in the emergency room. Ouch, huh?

This was taken today at the doctor's office. If you look close, you can see where the break is already healing beautifully.

This is an x-ray of Rich's hip, so you can see how far the "nail" goes down his femur and where the screws are.

Being Real 4

The plot thickens...
Being Real 4

I assumed that all of those crying girls were just not as mature as I. After all, I was relieved and ready to get back to my life. That is what I was told would happen. I believe the relief came from leaving that Shop of Horrors without a "thank you," "you're welcome," or a "please, come again."
Actually I was supposed to come back for a check up. Yeah, right. I went home to my apartment, took my pain pills and slept the day away.
I headed up to see Pat at college that weekend. I clung to him for dear life. I made him promise me that I would have more babies. Promise me. Say it out loud. He did with a very confused look on his face. Poor guy. One would think that there might be classes offered after an abortion. Getting On With Your Life 101. Make The Nightmares Stop for Beginners. I could not shake the uneasiness I was feeling. An anxiety that drove me to be constantly on the move.
I was a substitute teacher from 8-3pm and then worked at a group home from 3:30-10:30pm. EVERY DAY! If I sat still long enough I might start thinking and that would not be good. I drank, I ate too much or too little and exercised obsessively. I began to hate myself, hate my body. A self-loathing that drove me to desperate thoughts of suicide. I became depressed and oh, so angry.
I was one angry, hurting woman. I wore shame like a wet blanket. I declared myself to be pro-choice. I had one, so that made it right, right?! I would see those billboards for Prolife MN with cute babies and I would swear and flip it off and seethe.
There is a name for all of that behavior. It's called denial. A woman who has an abortion will stay in denial for 7-9 years. By then, careers have changed, a husband found, a family is started, a baby is wanted. The bricks that you have used in the wall to protect yourself start to crumble. The lies you believed unravel when replaced with truth.
Patrick Stream and I were married. We started trying to have a baby. We were thrilled to our toes when the pregnancy test revealed that we were indeed pregnant!

Today

Richard has his post-op appointment today at 1pm.
Please keep us in your prayers as he is starting to feel pretty bummed out about being laid up.

I'm Telling

I'm telling my boss today, so I think now is as good a time as any to unveil my new blog.

Being Real 3

Now that I'm starting to get back into the swing of normal life, I'd like to pick up where I left off with Carla's "Being Real" series.
If you remember, when we left off with Being Real 2, Carla was considering an abortion. Let's pick up where we left off. Here is Being Real 3.
Please be warned and read with caution--this one was the hardest for me to read.
Love you, Carla.



The appointment was made for an abortion. I was a tormented soul. I went through great mental anguish. On one hand, I thought I could have a baby. I could do it. On the other hand, how in the world could I? On the outside I appeared to have my ducks in a row. On the inside I was a mess. What I really wanted more than anything was to curl up in a ball on someone's lap and cry. Cry until I couldn't cry anymore and in a tiny voice whisper,"Help me, please. I don't know what to do."
The day came. I had a ride and didn't have any idea what I was in for. Those that support abortion will say that it is like getting a cavity filled or a tooth pulled. No big deal. Another lie.
Bear with me, I do not remember everything. There are parts of my time in the killing fields that I cannot account for. I know I was there from like 8am to 1pm. I just don't know the exact order of events anymore. My brain is trying to protect me, I guess. Thank you brain. I do remember the smell of death and fear. It was oppressive really. Nobody smiled. Nobody looked at anyone else. Nobody made small talk. There were so many people! Like herd after herd of cattle. Boyfriends with girlfriends, mothers with daughters. We all knew why we were there even if it wasn't discussed.
I think I read some papers. I remember some kind of video. Looked like a cartoon drawing of a bunch of cells. Another lie. I was taken to "counseling." The counselor said,"Will it be Visa or Mastercard today?" She commented on how self-assured I seemed and that I should be proud of myself for having a plan. Lies. I waited. I remember a girl wandering around and crying. She was about 7 months along. Totally showing, feeling the kicks I am sure. She was begging all of the nurses to help her. With all of their compassion, they avoided her. She was a nuisance. I was so grateful to not be her. I think I had an ultrasound. But I am simply not sure. They told me I was 9 or 10 weeks along. How else would they know? But then couldn't they have just lied?!I was brought into a little room. The nurse babbled on about nothing. She told what was happening AS IT WAS HAPPENING.
The doctor came in. Did not even look at me or talk to me. In fact he seemed angry with me. He was rough, mean, and cruel.(Could he have been anything else?) All business and with such a look of disgust. When abortion supporters say that abortion is "between a woman and her doctor" are they talking about him?! I don't remember a lot of the procedure. Only parts. The word horrific comes to mind. A loud vacuum sound that I will never forget and pain like I have never felt. My insides torn out.
I sat in a recliner when it was over, with a heated blanket on me and eating peanut butter and jelly toast. I was simply relieved to have it over so I could go home. I could move on. Another lie. I distinctly remember looking around to catch someone's eye and maybe smile with relief. Every single girl that sat in a recliner was crying.

Thou Shalt Not...

...Kill your husband.
When I left for work yesterday, I made Richard promise me that he wouldn't try to go down to the basement or take a shower or anything dangerous while I was gone. He swore he wouldn't do anything foolish.
I got home to discover that he had pulled the refridgerator out from the wall to "clean behind it."
As Kristi would say, "OMS."

Back

I'm back at work today, which is nice, though I'm VERY tired from my week at home with Richard. He is doing very well and getting around well enough that I wasn't terrified to leave him home alone for the day.
Thank you again for all your prayers.
Everyone at work has been relatively understanding except for ONE GUY. Apparently last week he was on the rampage and thought it was ridiculous that I had to stay home with Richard. He reportedly wanted to call me at home to ask me to come in to work. Nice, eh?
This is making me a little cranky.
I'm going to have trouble holding my tongue when I have to talk to him today.
In an effort to contain myself here's a couple haiku dedicated to my dipwad co-worker. It is a little non-traditional, but I think you'll like it.

Dear Mr. Dipwad,
I'm sorry it was such a
problem for you when

Richard broke his leg.
I guess my priorities
are diff'rent than yours.

Asshole.

BFF

Today while Richard was napping, Pedro and I went to the end of the driveway to get the mail (a task that took too much energy until today--I've neglected it for oh...3 days now). Just as we reached the mailbox, the mailman pulled up.

Pedro, friendly little rascal that he is, jumped RIGHT into the mail truck and made friends.

"You've got a friendly little dog there!" said Mailman.

"Yeah, I know--he'd drive away with anybody!"

At that moment the cat came out from under a bush.

"Oh, do the cat and dog get along?" asked Mailman.

"Oh yes, they are best friends. They do everything together," I replied.

And at that exact moment, Pedro did a divebomb on the cat rolling him onto his back and biting his neck. The cat hissed and growled with all four feet in the air.

The mailman laughed and drove away.

They really are best friends. I swear.

Update on Richard

Thank you, everyone, SO MUCH for your prayers and support.

Richard came home tonight which I personally didn't think was possible.

He is improving literally by the hour and I've seen a dramatic improvement even since we got home 3 hours ago.

I am so proud of him! This has been very tough and he handled it with grace and left the hospital with his pride in tact.

I have changed through this experience.

I'll never, EVER look at an ambulance the same way again. I'll know that somewhere nearby there is a wife or mother who is very worried.

I'll never, ever look at my husband the same way again. I have new respect for his faith, courage and endurance.

I know "it's only a broken leg," but I feel that this trial has really strengthened our marriage and brought us closer together. (Plus, it's not just a broken leg! It's a broken FEMUR that required major surgery!)

Once again, Richard and I thank you for everything.

He's very happy to have his picture taken.

Note the walker and crutches!

MY Being Real Moment

The Bare Bones of the Story
Pun intended.
I am very tired, so I am only going to relay the facts of the last couple of days. I will try to fill in as time and energy allows.
On Thursday evening at church softball, Richard was rounding 3rd base on his way home when his feet got tangled beneath him. He did a barrell roll and didn't get up again.
I'm told that there was a loud POP noise, which I will be forever grateful to God that I didn't hear.
When I made my way (unsteadily) to the field, Jared came around the corner toward me. I said, "What happened?" He said, "He broke his femur."
When I reached Richard's side his face was gray and he was slurring his words. We stabilized his leg with third base and two softball gloves, and the team gathered around to lay hands on him and pray.
After what seemed like an eternity (6-12 minutes) the ambulance arrived. The EMT crew secured Richard's left leg in a brace designed to straighten and stretch his leg out. They loaded us in the ambulance (me in the front seat) and took off at 90mph to Regions Hospital in St. Paul.
We made it to the ER by about 8:15 (I think).
They assessed his leg and we discussed with an Orthopedic Surgeon immediately. The femur was indeed broken. A compound fracture that appeared to have punctured the skin and "popped" back in under the skin. (I know, right?) It was determined that surgery would be necessary after his leg would be held in traction over night. They performed the procedure to put his leg in traction there in the ER in front of God and everybody--everybody but me. I sat in the waiting room with all of our amazing friends who refused, even as I weakly tried to persuade them, to leave my side. I don't know how to express my thanks for this.
When the procedure was finished, 27 pounds of free weights were pulling Richard's leg back into alignment by a rope and pulley system. It was disgusting.
We got to Richard's thankfully private room at about 2:30am (I think) and spent a very, very hard night together.
The next morning Richard went into surgery at about noon and was finished at 2:30. He emerged groggy and confused but with a brand new titanium rod in his left femur.
He spent the rest of the day and night in pretty substantial pain, but was mostly weighed down by his own frustration and anxiety.
Thankfully, I was relieved of my bedside duties for about 8 hours when Mandi (my angel) came to stay with Richard for the night. I was able to get about 6 hours of sleep before heading back to the hospital this morning.
When I arrived I found an even more frustrated and confused Richard. We spent the day together both dozing in and out of Shark Week on the Discovery Channel until his physical therapy appointment.
And that's when everything changed.
My heart caught in my chest with pride and joy as I watched Richard sit on the edge of the bed, then stand, then WALK to the bathroom where we washed his hair and got him on the road to feeling a LOT better and a LOT more optimistic. This great victory combined with some much-needed Mom / Richard time (everybody just wants their mom in the end!), made Richard a very different man by the time he sent me home tonight.
This has been an incredibly difficult couple of days, but all I can think is how grateful I am and what a glorious God I serve that He would protect my husband from something so much worse and that He would work such miracles as:
-There will be no cast on Rich's leg!
-He put 25% of his body weight on his broken leg the day after surgery!!
-The incredibly helpful and loving staff we've come in contact with in every new department.
-The amazing love and kindnesses we've been shown by friends (who cleaned our house, brought food, and made meals) and family (who have shown unfaltering patience and steadfastedness).
-The unbelievable fact that I've been able to survive on only 8 hours of sleep in the last two days!
-I could go on.
The point? God is good.
Thank you so much, everyone, for your thoughts and prayers. Richard is very touched by your thoughs, kindnesses and generosity.
I will try to keep you posted. He has two physical therapy appointments tomorrow and he wants to go home tomorrow. I'm going to shoot for getting him home on Monday, though.


Turns out, these "bones" have a lot more meat on them than I thought I had in me.

Being Real 2

**I've changed my mind. Comment away!**

I have decided not to open the "Being Real" series up for comments because I'm not interested in an abortion debate. I want Carla's words to be read for what they are--a testimony of God's healing power.

Being Real 2

It was Rebound guy.(Not McStreamy. We hadn't even kissed.)I couldn't believe it. The pregnancy test was positive. My mind kept repeating no no no no no but the truth does rise to the surface. Yes. I was pregnant. I was 24, lived in a dump, my family wasn't speaking to me, I drove a 1980 Chevy Chevette and worked part-time at a daycare center and Lerner clothing store. I was working on getting my teaching license so I could hopefully land a teaching job.
I told Pat and my roomate. 2 people.
My roomate said she would drive me. She had driven lots of girlfriends to get theirs. A Chauffeur of Death, if you will. Nice. Pat didn't say anything. We were friends, he was heading back to school and I was alone. I wish I would have sought out others to be informed or simply to listen and be there for me. I was terrified. Out of my mind. Terrified. What would I do? What kind of life would I have? I rushed headlong into a decision before I could even let my thoughts settle. I sorta fantasized about having it.(no, not an it! A baby! My baby!)I could almost let myself feel excited to be a mom but those thoughts were immediately shut down. No. My mother took my sister to get an abortion. Her own grandchild. My example. I went to the phone book and looked in A's. Right there. Right in front was a long list of places. I picked one. I dialed the phone and made an appointment at Meadowbrook. My problem would be over, finished, solved in one week. I could get on with my life.
OR so they told me. So I thought.

Being Real

A friend of mine recently started posting about her life on the road to meet Christ. Her story is touching, painful to read at times, and one of the bravest things I've ever read. I've never seen anything like this, and I'm going to share six of her posts on my own blog, because I feel that the more people who read this the better. I hope God touches your heart the way He touched mine through Carla's words.
Here is the first post, Being Real 1.

If I don't jump in with both feet this post will never be written. Here goes.
I grew up in a family where talking about feelings or emotions was discouraged. There was zero meaningful communication about anything. My mother's weapon of choice was the silent treatment. My parents checked out of their parenting gig when I was probably 10. They followed other more worthwhile pursuits. I was cast adrift on a sea of self-doubt and loneliness with a shoreline of despair in my sights. A girl searching for love. A recipe for disaster. What other people said I was-I became. I started drinking at age 14 to escape the pain of losing my grandmother. She was the only one who showed me unconditional love. I miss her still. Along with the drinking came the suicidal thoughts and the desperate plans of a desperate girl. Hey, wait a minute there are boys out there! Boys who will be nice to you for only one reason. Since I had no moral compass to speak of I was quickly drawn into behaviors that I should have turned from. I was used by many. I believed I deserved no better. On this path of self-destruction I met an extremely abusive man. He kept that under wraps until we were engaged. He beat me and one night tried to rape and kill me. I ran. I ran to Connecticut to be a nanny for a loving family. I was healing, or so I thought but the loneliness and longing to be loved led me to have an affair with a married man. I honestly thought he would choose me over his wife. Ha. That's what they all think. On the rebound I found someone else. Thought it was love, wanted it to be but it wasn't. He should have just been a good friend. I left Connecticut after my contract was up. I came home to a very icy reception. My family wasn't even at the airport to meet me. I had to beg my sister to come after promising that I would pay her for gas. WELCOME HOME, CARLA! I found an apartment with a co-worker and started partying.
There he was. The man I would marry. I saw him and felt like I had known him all of my life. Patrick Stream. I fell in like. Wanted to do this right for once. Just be friends and have fun and get back on track. I wouldn't even kiss him on our first date.
The world came crashing in when the pregnancy test came back positive. Stay tuned.

Note to Self

1. If your husband says your new dress is "Just ok," it's really probably just ok.
2. Invest in a full-length mirror so that you know what you look like BEFORE you leave the house.
3. If the dress was $4 on the clearance rack, there was a reason for it.

VBS

It's Vacation Bible School week at FCC this week!
I love VBS week! It wasn't long ago that I was able to help out because I wasn't in school and had a part time job.
Since I can't be there to help this week, I will pray for those 216 little hearts and for the volunteers that are helping shape them and teach them about Jesus.
I have strong feelings about the role of the volunteer in a child's life--so strong, in fact, that I wrote an article about it. Checkitout.
This weekend, Larry pointed out that when Christ is introduced to a child at a young age, it often changes the course of that child's life.
Here's to VBS, and the tireless volunteers, leaders, kitchen and nursery workers! God will honor you for your hard work!
See you next year!
; )

Hot Fudge

Nothing helps a really lousy day quite like a hot fudge sundae from McDonald's.

759

I just devoured 759 pages in 5 days.
I admit, it took me a lot longer to get through this Harry Potter than the last one, which was more like 800 pages and only took two days (and that's only because I had to work), but I didn't want to miss a single word. I wanted to solve every mystery.
I did ok on the mysteries--I guessed almost accurately who would die and who wouldn't--and I am satisfied with the ending and feel it was a good end to the series.

That being said, I have Harry Potter on the brain.

Now that I'm finished with the book, she wrote, I am narrating my own story in my mind. And I can't stop, she emphasized.
I keep imagining ways to jinx troublesome co-workers, suspecting the worst of my enemies (that they, for instance, are out to destroy me), and imagining what my patronus would look like (a sleepy, fat cat).
I think I'm sick, she wrote quickly--as if she didn't get it out fast enough she may not be brave enough to try again later.


This narration thing usually wears off in a couple of days, she finished hopefully, looking over her shoulder.

Cat Nap

It's high time we discuss the Bathroom Cat Nap.
For a couple of months now, I've been taking 10-minute cat naps in the bathroom. I prefer the handicapped stall on the end because it has the least likely chance of my being spied.
When my day gets too boring, or I've stayed up too late reading Harry Potter, I just excuse myself to the ladies room and doze off for a few mintues.
I usually come back feeling refreshed and ready to continue my day.
My biggest concern?
Being overheard snoring on the pot.


Cat Nap
Handicapped stall, you
wait for me, cozy and cool
ten minutes in heav'n.

Ish

We're having friends over for dinner tonight so I went to the Farmer's Market yesterday to buy some fresh veggies.
I left the broccoli and cauliflower in the same bag together for about 36 hours.
Today, when I went to cut up the veggies, both the broccoli and cauliflower were COVERED in green caterpillars, each about an inch long, almost exactly the same color as the broccoli.
Know how I found them?
I thought, "Boy this broccoli is really squishy."

I can still feel one of them under my fingernails.

Wretch.

Lavender

There's a guy in my office who smells very strongly of lavender.
It's not a very masculine scent, but my nose loves him.

Woopsie Daisy

The month before Rich and I got married, I got two speeding tickets.
(I then proceeded to overdraw my checking account by $400, but that's neither here nor there.)
Since then I've changed my ways.
Many of you probably already know--I drive like an old lady. I even drive under the speed limit on residential streets.
So...you can guess what I'm about to tell you.
Rich and I traded cars yesterday so he could take the VW to Hudson for softball and put less miles on his company car. I took the company car (which has a much bigger engine and accelerates a lot faster than I am used to, especially with the AC on) to Cara's birthday party (Happy frickin' Birthday, Cara!!). I'm driving merrily down County B2 on the way to Famous Dave's on Snelling when I see an unmarked car swerve behind me at the stoplight.
I knew this was it.
I made it another quarter of a mile before I saw flashing blue and red lights in my rear view mirror.
I pulled over and the officer approached my car. "Do you know why I pulled you over?" she asked.
"Honestly, I don't."
She said, "You were going 48 in a 35 and you passed two cars."
"Really?!" I honestly had no idea.
So...she wrote me a ticket. When she came back, she said, "I have to give you a ticket, I'm sorry."
I said, "I'd give me a ticket, too! This isn't my normal car, and I didn't realize how fast it accelerates! I'm really sorry."

I have such a guilty conscience, I should have been Catholic.

Well that was unpleasant...

After about 4 months, I've decided that acrylic nails just aren't for me. I like they way they look for the first 3 days after I get them done and then they just grow out too fast and resemble claws way too much.
So, over lunch today, I decided to go have them removed. I explained to the manicurist that I didn't want her to rip them off (I can do that), but I wanted her to grind them off.
Now, explain this to me.
She soaked my right fingernails in acetone while she started ripping off my left fingernails one by one. Then she ground off the right fingernails. Now my left nails are brittle and painful and my right nails are smoother and stronger.
Why did she do that?
It was a seriously painful lunch hour.
I won't be doing that again any time soon.
Youch!

The Urinator

I think I will change my husband's nickname from ScarHead to The Urinator. (Obviously, ScarHead is his villain comic book name, and I think The Urinator sounds more like a superhero. Thoughts?)
My husband is obsessed with urine. I often find him nose-down in the carpet investigating what he calls "a pile of piss."
Try as I might, I cannot reason with him that things in liquid form do not usually "pile," alas, he will not be won.
He has the nose of a bloodhound and is convinced that the dog leaves a trail everywhere he goes. This may very well be true, but I, friends and brethren, cannot smell anything. This has led to several disagreements over the two years we've had Pedro, and I've finally given up. Rich is convinced that the house smells like dog pee. (If it does, please don't tell me. I don't think I could take it.)
I just try to keep the cupboard stocked with carpet cleaner, and everyone seems pretty happy. I also bought an air purifier for the living room, which The Urinator thinks is the stinkiest room of them all. What can I say, I try to keep my man happy.
Well.
Richard took me to see Harry Potter last night (finally!) and as we walked in to the theater, I picked a row, and Rich said, "I want to sit on the end."
No problemo.
I moved in one seat and plopped down, as did The Urinator.
Ten seconds later* (in the middle of a preview), he jumped up, "This seat is soaked!"
Sure enough, his bottom was covered in what he declared was urine. I insisted that it was Sprite but he would not agree.
I offered to take him home to change (we could have easily made it back for the 8:00 show), but he was a trooper and sat through the movie with a wet bottom.
After we got home and he showered, he came into the bedroom and said, "This is totally blogworthy. Your husband, The Urinator, plops down in a pile of piss at Harry Potter. Ha. Ha."

It's been a while since I wrote haiku--this series is called "The Urinator."
The Urinator

Richard hates urine,
I think it might be just a
little in his head.

We try to keep a
clean house where everyone goes
potty in "their" place.

Thank you, Lord, for my
hubby who cares so much for
the state of our home.

*What makes me especially sad is that it took 10 full seconds for him to realize it, which means, he was really soaked. Poor Urinator. : (

Garth Brooks

I don't usually like blogging or reading blogs about dreams, but this one is just too weird. I can't shake it.
The other night, I dreamt that Garth Brooks and I were best friends. We went to Bob & Brenda's campsite to hang out together with the family (and my husband), and he sang "A Dream is Like a River" (ironic??) to me.
The next day, on the way to the campsite in real life, the first song we heard on the radio was "Friends in Low Places."
Prophetic?
If our dreams mean something, as many people believe, what could this one possibly mean?
I'm telling you, in that dream, Garth and I were BFF (sorry, Jenna). Seriously. We finished each other's sentences, laughed at each other's zany senses of humor. We basically thought the other one was Very. Cool. There was no romantic involvement. Just great friends...
Let me boil this down for you:
I dream-believed that pudgy country music super stars with tight pants and cowboy hats were the coolest thing on the planet.
WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!?

I'm interested in what you think it means. The person with the best interpretation of my dream wins a king-size candy bar of your choice.

Plunger as Weapon?

I watched quietly tonight from my laundry-folding position on the couch while my husband ran from the basement to the bathroom brandishing a plunger as if it were a sword. And then two wire clothes hangers.
By God, he's going to make the tub drain.
Or die trying.
Ah, marriage.


**Ten Minutes Later**


I was just interrupted from my blogging by a cry for help from the basement.
He got the tub to drain alright.
All over the basement floor.
Apparently some kind of balancing act was going on and a bucket full of "not very dirty" water (approximately 3 gallons) went all over the basement floor.
Join me, won't you, in a collective, "Eeeeewwww!"
We got everything cleaned up, and now I'm going to go scrub the bathtub out so that I can take a shower and go to bed.
At least the laundry is folded...and I'll have a clean tub!

p.s. A husband's idea of "not very dirty" water is very different than a wife's.

No Respect

Today is my one-year anniversary at 3M.
Weird, huh? Nobody sent flowers or anything. No gold watch, no parade.
Geez, Louise!
I don't get no respect.

Next stop, Crankytown!

My cat is sick.
It's gross--ask Naomi. She was on the receiving end of a particularly nasty cat sneeze yesterday.
He was sneezing so much and so profusely yesterday and last night that I looked up his symptoms (sneezing, watery eyes, lethargy, moaning and growling when touched) online. The WWW suggested either an upper respitory infection or feline leukemia.
Reading the words "feline leukemia" reminded me *DING* that Kitty is about 6 months overdue for his shots.
So, today I called the vet and set up an appointment. I told her, "I'm pretty sure he's got an URI (veterinary lingo for Upper Respitory Infection), and he needs his shots so I'd like to bring him in. My husband can bring him this afternoon if you have room."
I got the appointment scheduled and moved heaven and earth so that Rich could get there by 2pm today. (The clinic we use is about an hour away from our house.)
Yessiree, Kitty has an URI.
Nosiree they won't give him his shots while he has an infection.
$70 later, I still have to take the damn cat back to the vet in two weeks for shots.
What do you think the odds are that I'm going to be able to get my husband to take a terrified, yowling cat to the vet an hour away again in two weeks?
I'd say pretty slim.
It's not that I wanted to run the cat to the vet for any old thing--I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to kill two birds (ha, ha) in one stone, so to speak.
Alas, I was thwarted in my efforts to be efficient and thrifty.
Mayhaps it's time to find a vet a bit closer to home?
This whole stupid thing is making me veeeerrrrrrry cranky. Stay away.

*If I hear one effing thing about drop-kicking, drowning, or sending the cat to the woods with Pa, we will officially be in a fight.

Lips & Tickets, yeah, yeah, ooh baby!

Follow Up.
1. Noonie, I had no idea that you were so musically inclined. Perhaps you should write to FOB with your ideas.
2. Brandy, do you also enjoy hearing that I'm a total goof and didn't catch that the tickets were from the 2006 games Richard and I went to together LAST YEAR. They've been in the car since then.
I rule.

Lips and Tickets

Thanks, everyone, for your concern about my lips.
I think the cause of the problem was somewhat related to the new Maleleuca products I started using. How did I know? When I applied Maleleuca chapstick I thought my lips were on fire.
End result: still chapped, but no more Maleleuca!

Now on to something more important.
This morning on my way to work I found an envelope on the front seat of my car containing two tickets to see the Twins play the White Sox on two different occasions--August 18 and October 1.
WHO PUT THEM IN MY CAR?!?!
I was thrilled to find them but would love to thank the appropriate person!
Please, if it was you, fess up!

Chapped

My hide is chapped.
Or, my lips are, anyway.
Can someone please explain to me why for two weeks now, my lips have been chapped and sore? It's July now! NOT the season for chapped lips! No, I haven't been kissing any more than usual. No, I haven't changed any lotions or potions. So, what gives? The skin around my mouth is flaky and sore. I'm sort of disgusting. No amount of chapstick, Burt's Bees, or Vaseline seems to be aiding the problem.
Help! I think my face is falling apart!
My dad used to say, "How are you doing?"
I'd say, "Fine."
He'd say, "How's your face?"
I'd say, "Fine."
He'd say, "Well it's killing me!"
He would laugh uproariously as if this was the first time he had ever said it and I had fallen for it all over again.
Today, though, it might actually be true.

Cara's Joke

If girls with big hooters work at Hooters, where do men with one leg work?

Potter, ... ?

Here at work we have an internal phone system that is extremely intricate and sophisticated. By dialing 8 numbers, I can call anyone in the entire company--internationally or anything. It's sort of cool, and took a few missed calls and hang-ups to figure out.
Because everyone in the company can be reached by dialing 8 numbers, we also have caller id which can be a blessing and a curse, because I KNOW people must "miss" my calls when they don't want to talk to me because I do the same thing to them.
Oh! I'm doing it right now!
So...today when Potter, H called me, I nearly died. For a brief moment I thought Harry Potter (my literary boyfriend) was calling me (finally!) to discuss his next move against Voldemort and possibly grab some coffee or something.
You know, whatever.
A girl can dream.

Confession

Every once in a while I come across a blog entirely devoted to chocolate, or I see a comment about chocolate, or someone implies that chocolate will make everything all better.
I admit, friends and brethren, that I do not share the sentiment. If ever confronted with the choice between anything chocolate or something salty, every time I'm gonna go for the salt snack. Truth be told, even sardines make my mouth water more than a bag of M&M's or a chunk of chocolate. Olives? Yep. Pickles? Capers? Honestly. Just about anything salty interests me.
Now, while I have blogged my fair share about DOVE Promises, I find it necessary to point out that I really only blog about the Promises. The only time I lauded the glories of that cocoa plant, I admit, friends and brethren, I might have been exaggerating a little bit about my love of Caramel Doves. Plus, it was the caramel I loved, not the chocolate.
So sue me.
I know it has its benefits and good traits, but I guess I just don't groove that way.
I can't be the only one...am I the only one?

In reviewing my old posts about Dove Promises, I was reminded of a simpler time--a time that we made them up. Let's make up some more!
These are things I'd like to see in my dove. Or better yet! On the side of a dill pickle!!
- Did you remember to take your vitamins?
- Nice to see you again.
- Recycling is so uncool.
- Published? I heard whisperings of movie-rights.
- You did the right thing not going to graduate school.
- Your dog is quietly eating a bone in your backyard right now.
- Your career is about to take off. Really.

Dictionary

Earlier today I had my dictionary out to look up "saccharine."
One of the girls I work with came up behind me and said, "What are you doing?"
"Nothin'," I said. "Just reading the dictionary. For fun."

She laughed as if I had said something funny.

Cur of my Heart

Dear Neighbors, Children on Bikes, Couples Walking Dogs, City Employees, and Bunny Rabbits;
My dog hates you.
Or better yet, he loves to hate you.
I am writing to implore you to please, P.L.E.A.S.E. stop walking by our house. Yes, I know our entire backyard faces the street. Yes, I know our home sits wrong on the lot. I know you think you have every right to use the street as you wish.
This is why I come to you on my knees. Please use a different street. Ofxord is very nice. So is Lakeview. Bigger houses, less traffic. Fewer dogs to bark and bark and bark and bark at you as you walk or ride by, or come home in the middle of the night, or leave for work early in the morning, or cut down trees, or eat my tulips.
I'm asking you to make one little allowance for me--for my sanity.
I am aware that at this point, that you probably hate me just as much as Pedro hates you, but believe me. I've tried. I can't make him stop barking. He is absolutely SILENT in the house but as soon as he gets out the door it's like he turns into a different dog. A territorial obnoxious beast. A miserable cur. The swollen tonsil of my tranquility. A lump on the breast of my happiness.
We could keep him in the house more, you're right. But then he barfs on the floor, or "piddles" in the corner, or attacks the cat. You understand, don't you, that he needs to spend quality time outside every day?
So, please, dear friends and bunny rabbits. Please. just. go. a. way.
We'll all be a lot happier if there is just less, overall, to bark at.
Don't you agree?
I appreciate your time and consideration on this matter.
Sincerely,
Erin
p.s. Whoever keeps throwing him whole bratwursts over the fence, please stop. It's not funny anymore.

Double-Mint Twins

There is a girl in the office who has the same shirt as me. It's been a running joke for a while now that eventually we're going to wear it on the same day and that would be SO embarrassing.
I'm not sure if she is actually embarrassed or not. Personally, I find it hilarious. I mean, it's not like we're wearing the same prom dress. Now THAT would be embarrassing.

A two-fer!

Today is a two-fer because two things happen that make me happy.
1. It's the first day of summer. Yay!
2. It's Aunt Kris' Birthday!!
Happy Birthday, Aunt Kris!!
What did you decide to do with that birthday money??
Love you!!

I didn't get the job.

Interview Update

I'm at a loss.
I think it went well. It didn't go...badly...
It was very strange. She didn't ask me a single question. Not one. But I was there for an hour. She went line by line through my resume and then through the job description. We came to the conclusion that I would be good for the job and then I went back to my office.
Weird, right? I'm still really hoping for the job and she said I would hear from her by the end of next week...
Ah, well. I'm God's child and He will take care of me, right?
Right!

UPDATED: Dear Aunt Kris, I'm sorry!

I'm deleting this post because I actually feel really bad for ruining the ending of the book. I hope no one read my blog.
Kandi, read it anyway.
Kris, don't tell Tosca.
Everyone, read Demon: A Memoir by Tosca Lee.
I'm still a little torn on the ending.
The book did make me look at the crucifixion of Christ in a new way, and I didn't want to put it down, but found that I had to take frequent breaks.

That's My Sister--Part 906

I think I've created about 906 blogs entitled, "That's My Sister," but I think you should all know that Mandi fin.al.ly started a blog!!
Checkitout!

Interview

I have an interview this morning at 9am.
Please pray for me! I'm feeling semi-confident.

Happy Birthday, Richard!

My man is getting old! He turns a whopping 28 today...do you know how close that is to 30?
Last night as we laid down to go to bed, I realized that I would miss much of Richard's birthday because of a customer function tonight at work. When I told him so, he said, "Ugh. This is just like Cats in the Cradle."

You know that sound when the needle drags across a record and everything goes silent? That's what I heard at that moment.

"What?" I said.
He said, "You know...you're like the dad in the song always working late and missing the kid's birthday."
Now, call me crazy, but I don't remember that being a part of the song...I guess I could be wrong.

Anyway,
Happy Birthday, Richard!
I love you!

Help Control the Pet Population

Today was Bob Barker's last episode of The Price is Right.
I feel a little sad about this. Like when Mr. Rogers died.

Late Laugher

Those of you who have ever been to a movie probably already know this about me because I probably embarassed you with it.
I, blogfriends, am a late-laugher.
This mortified my husband when we first started dating. He took me to see Jacka$$ on one of our first dates (a savory and oh-so-romantic way to spend our first hours together, I know), and through the entire movie, I laughed 10 to 30 seconds after everyone else. He was so embarassed that I remember him patting my arm nervously as if to say, "Shhh..."
I can't explain it. For some reason I like to think about a stunt, punchline, or facial expression before I laugh about it. It's like I'm unconsciously deciding if I am going to laugh or not.
I did this in a group setting recently. Someone said something funny, everyone laughed...and then I laughed. The whole group turned to look at me to see what was so hilarious. I think they still probably don't know that I was laughing at the same thing they had already forgotten about.
Oh well.

Baby Got Book

SO funny.

The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind...

By 5:00pm on Wednesday, I was exhausted, cranky, and had exceptionally blistered feet (still do, come to think of it).
So you can probably imagine how I felt when I escorted my group of 28 customers out the front door of our building to find that the van I ordered to transport said customers back to the hotel was NOT THERE.
I sprinted a quarter of a mile back to my desk to call the transportation department to inquire of the whereabouts of the van and got a 17-year-old desk attendant. "Uh, SOR-ry," he said. "It's on it's way."
So, I sprinted back down to where my guests were still waiting for the still-missing van.
I stepped to the center of their group, hoping their inquiring eyes would not notice how out of breath I was, or how nervous and upset I was, or how near I was getting to my melt-down point. I said, "Everyone, I'm really sorry! I don't know why the van is late, but I know it's on its way. This won't happen again, I'm very sorry..." I was about to say how thankful I was for nice weather, when suddenly, a HUGE gust of wind came out of nowhere and blew my skirt up around my armpits.
No one said a word.
The gentlemen looked away politely, and one young woman in the back of the group said, "Oh, girl. I've been there."
I think the gust of wind must have carried the van around the corner, because it finally arrived then, and I put everyone on, saying, "I'll see you at dinner!"
Then I tucked my skirt between my legs and ran for cover.

Redneck Margaritas*

Two cans of limeade,
two beers; tequila to taste.
See you on Monday.







*A first for me--recipe haiku.

God as Father

What the hell does that mean?
I've been confronted with this question a multitude of times over the past month in several completely unrelated situations. The truth is, I don't think I've ever seen God as my father. Provider and miracle-worker, sure. Protector? Sure. But what does it mean to have a perfect Father?
Here's what I know:
1. We tend to think of God as similar to the earthly father we have, and assign the same qualities to God that our earthly fathers possess. (That doesn't mean we all do, but I believe it is a natural tendency.)
2. God sees me as his darling child. (This is what I've been taught. I can't say I've ever been convicted of it--yet. Or if I have, it's been a long time.)
3. God had a plan for me and my life.
4. Whether I want to or not, I systematically (like the tides and the moon) ebb away from my closeness with Him, and then am drawn back, completely unknowingly and completely without my making a single educated decision. It's so easy to look back and see God calling to me, beckoning me to follow him...through high school, to college, Scotland, and in to my marriage. Why would I doubt? I'm nothing but a blind, dumb idiot stumbling through darkness following the vibration of sound on the ground.
5. I should seek him with the faith of a child.
But why? And how?
I'm not questioning my Christianity, but this past year or so has really been a struggle for me to see myself as God sees me. Actually, it's been almost two years now that I think about it. Two years in August, in fact, and I'm sorry to say that I don't feel any closer to seeing myself in God's light than I did two years ago. This struggle combined with some unsavory personality characteristics I tend to harbor in my sinful heart and a couple of other obstacles have sent me reeling lately.
Ephesians 1:4-5 says, "...just as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and without blame before Him in love, having predestined us to adoption as sons by Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the good pleasure of His will..."
I understand that I've been adopted into the family by accepting Jesus Christ as my savior, but what then? I know I am a child of God, but how do I see it for myself?
I'm learning that we are all called [predestined, thanks, Paul] to be God's children and the only free will we really have is to choose not to obey his call.
So, how do I start to really see myself as His child? I know I belong to Him, but how do I start to see Him as my Father?
I'm not really looking for an answer, just thinking about some things.

Ain't that always the way?

Before bed last night, Rich and I prayed over something that, at the time, didn't seem like a very big deal.
As soon as our prayer was finished, however, we got into one of the dumbest fights I think we've ever had in our marriage.
Now that I'm fully awake and thinking about it, I think the guidance we were asking God for was probably more threatening to the enemy than I originally thought. Hence, the stupid fight. Seems like every time we go to God with something, Satan tries even harder to come between us, using anything he can get his hands on, that might be a weakness in our relationship. Sneaky, sneaky.
The weirdest part? Neither of us would back down, though we both agreed it was not really worth fighting about.
The worst part? I'm still a little miffed, despite the fact that I've figured all these things out!

Graduation!

As some of you may know, Mandi graduated from Stillwater Area High School on Saturday. It was a very emotional day for me because I couldn't be more proud of her and I can't wait to see where God takes her in the future.


Here are some fun photos from the weekend.










































This is the quilt I made for Mandi. Didn't it turn out AWESOME??
I wish I knew what made us both laugh in this photo.

A Year in Haiku

Saturday was my
blog's first birthday, same day as
my boss' birthday.

How ironic that
a year ago I started
blogging on June two.

I didn't even
work for him yet at that time--
a year full of change.

Now I'm thinking of
where my career might go next.
Options are plenty.

Found one that looks good,
revamping my resume
wish me luck, dear friends!

Today's a big day
many customers in town
to listen: sales pitch!

Dropped a hundred bucks
on a new dress for the day
and it has a hole!

Stitched it up at my
desk; thank goodness for learning
the whip stitch this year.

There's lots more to say,
it's a year later; seems I've
got haiku to spare.

A year in haiku:
Mandi has graduated,
I'm so proud of her!

I'm getting published!
I still can't believe it. I'll
sign all your copies.

Richard has straight A's
I couldn't be more proud, babe.
He's doing so great!

Naomi's Prego [with meat],
can't wait for Little Precious
to arrive this fall.

Sorenson's sold their
house after thirty-plus hard,
grueling showings. Yeah!

Cara's selling rings,
and necklaces and earrings;
still crackin' folks' backs.

Jenna's coming home--
I can't wait to have her back,
even for a bit.

That's a year formed in
lovely phrasing called haiku
cuz I'm a master.

Thanks for making this
haiku lady such a hit,
I love you, blog friends!