Still Got It

For one of Mandi's classes, she has to take the Myers-Briggs personality test.
So...we took it together tonight. Click here for a free link.
I thought that maybe I had changed in the couple of years I've been married but it appears that I'm even more of an ENFP than I thought.
Here are some pertinent quotes I found about my personality:
"ENFPs like to tell funny stories, especially about their friends. This penchant may be why many are attracted to journalism. I kid one of my ENFP friends that if I want the sixth fleet to know something, I'll just tell him."
This is the one that made Richard laugh out loud:
"Close enough is satisfactory to the ENFP..."
Oh, so true.
What is it about these personality tests that is so satisfying?
Is it my own vanity? I want to be affirmed by Mr. Myers and Mr. Briggs so badly that I'm willing to sit at a computer and take the test again despite the fact that I can feel my neck seizing up...just to confirm that what I thought was true: I'm an Extraverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiver.
"[For the ENFP], nothing occurs which does not have some deep ethical significance, and this, coupled with their uncanny sense of the motivations of others, gives them a talent for seeing life as an exciting drama, pregnant with possibilities for both good and evil."
That's a lot to think about...
I think this post is almost done.
Close enough.

For the record, Mandi is ISFJ and Richard is ISTJ. : )
According to the Jung Marriage Test, Richard and I are an "unsatisfactory" match. Hmmm...
Mandi and I however would make a good couple. Go figure.
OH! You'll be glad to know that my P-ness is still very strong.

Aaahhhh...Ehhhh...Owww...

The chiropractor helped tremendously.
He spent quite a while with me and about half way through the appointment I felt my body relax and go, "Ahhhh."
I actually feel a little hungover from the pain. Sort of drowsy and dazed now that I'm not in as much pain anymore. He sent me home with a couple trial packets of bio freeze (which will stay at my desk since I'm getting the real deal from Cara tonight). I felt a lot better on my way back to work, but I can feel myself tensing up again. I'm at about a 3 or 4 for pain right now, though, which is a heckuvalot better than a 9!
Thanks for your prayers. I think they really helped. If it comes across your mind, please pray that we will be able to get this under control soon.
Word to the wise--biofreeze under your wedding band is slightly uncomfortable.

Perfect 10

At the risk of sounding like a whiner, my pain level is at a 9 this morning.
I'd say I reached a perfect 10 on Saturday night somewhere around 3am.
I made it through yesterday with ice packs and Tylenol. I have a chiropractor appointment at 11 today.
I think I really hit rock bottom standing in the shower last night crying.
A simple formula:
Intense neck pain + hormones + exhaustion = discouragement and uncontrollable weeping.
(I just fought the urge to write "= priceless," but the truth is that I'm not really in the mood for jokes.)
Please keep me in your prayers today. I'm trying not to be too discouraged about my neck (it's as if I've thrown out my back, but only my neck...make sense?), but. But, what if it's like this when the baby is born? What if I can't pick up my baby? What if I feel this way for the rest of my pregnancy? What if it NEVER goes away?
Anyhow, like I said, at the risk of sounding like a whiner, please keep me in your prayers today.

It is Finished!

Dad,
Congratulations on a job well done.
I am proud of you for the way you have always sought God in your professional life, and even more proud of you for your exciting future.
I pray that God will bring you many more great things.
I love you very much.
There is more to say, but words escape me. My heart swells with pride when I tell people about you.
Congratulations on your retirement.
Love,
Richard and Erin

p.s. GET OVER HERE, so we can celebrate!

Ish

To each her own, but again I say, ish.

If you are a guy, I really wouldn't click on the link. I know that now you will, but don't say I didn't warn you.

Last Meal

While I was waiting at the Chiropractor today (I got a new chiropractor!!! Yay!!!), I read an article in Time Magazine that asked all kinds of famous chefs what they would choose as their last meal.
Mine:
First course: Chop salad with plenty of blue cheese straight from France.
Secound course: Al dente pasta with a spicy cheese sauce of some sort (with blue or gorgonzola cheese as the base). It's gotta be good, though. No Olive Garden BS for my last meal. Nosiree.
Third course: More cheeses and of course, SAUSAGE. Spicy, smoked, maybe even breakfast. Once again--good stuff. No Jimmy Dean for my last meal. Send me Andoullie straight from Louisiana, thankyouverymuch.
Fourth course: McDonald's sausage McMuffin with egg and french fries.
Dessert: Potato chips. Plain.
If a midnight snack is an option for my last meal, it will obviously be Oreos and very, VERY cold Vitamin D milk.


Please note, I have thought long and hard about this list. It is in NO WAY determined by my pregnant cravings. Really. Well, maybe the Oreos. This meal also assumes that I have a bottomless stomach. This is imaginary. Roll with it.
Ha! Pun intended.

What would your last meal be?

Great American Novel

Here's something that will appear in my G.A.N. some day. I'm sure it will end up a lot more polished than this and may not even make its way into the movie, but it was a pretty touching moment for me.
This version has been shortened for blogging purposes.
**Please note, my senior creative writing professor made me swear that I would never write about my grandmothers again.
Oops.
Sorry, Allyson. I love 'em. ; )

- - -

Shortly after Richard and I got married, my great-uncle Charles died.
My dad, another Charles, and I escorted my blind grandmother, Shirley, to Minot, North Dakota by train to attend the funeral.
The ride there was uneventful and we slept the entire way. (Nothing compared to the ride home. Another blog, another time.)
Once we reached Minot, we went to the cousin's house to change clothes and get ready for the funeral which was only an hour or so later.
When we arrived at the church, I held Grandma Shirley's hand and escorted her through the premises. We located all the important rooms: ladies' room, sanctuary, family waiting / mourning room, library, etc.
Then she asked me to take her to see her brother.
Uncle Charles was laid out in his casket looking better than I had seen him in years. I described to her that his hair was very gray, that he was wearing a blue sportcoat with a maroon tie and his hands--those McClain hands--were folded on top of his abdomen.
"Where?" She said. "Where are his hands?"
"On his stomach."
"No, show me."
I took her hands and put them on her brothers.
It was that moment that she began to cry. Gasping, deep, silent sobs.
And then she stopped.
"That was the only time I've cried over him. My brother."

Birthday Cake

Happy Birthday to two of my favorite bloggers!

New mommy, Naomi, and blogging queen, Carla!

p.s. Carla for blogging queen!

p.p.s Kristi for blogging president!

Everybody Else

Have you had the thought, "I'm not like everybody else," outside of blogdom?
Could it be why we blog?
I would be willing to bet that the incidence of feeling unlike everybody else and blogging is relatively high.
I could be making myself intensely vulnerable for no reason, here...
If so, please disregard.

p.s. I'm an ENFP.

Dingbat

I begin this post by singing, "Don't park, don't park, don't park so close to me," a la Sting.
I once went shopping with my Grandma Jean (Nebraska Grandma) and she opened her car door into another car. She said, "I'm old. I can do this sort of thing."
Yeah, well.
I'm pregnant. I can do that sort of thing.
Last week I dinged the door of a pretty navy blue BMW, a black Audi and several other imports in our parking lot. I don't mean to. It just happens. Almost every day.
Seriously. Don't park next to me.

I haven't dinged anything yet today...not a bad way to start the week.

A Halloween-esque Haiku in honor of door dings:

The phantom dinger--
She comes by it nat'rally.
Park far, far away.

Pressure

Remember the cashmere Ralph Lauren sweaters?
Richard wore one of them to church today.
We had a little cashmere lesson on the way to church.
"Be really careful with that sweater. It's cashmere," I said.
"What does that mean?"
"It means it's nicer than anything we have or can afford," I conveniently forgot my purse collection. "And whatever you do--please--don't put it in the washing machine!"
"Are you serious? That's stupid."
"Yeah, but it's a gorgeous sweater."
"Well how do we wash it?"
"We DON'T! We dry clean it."
"Oh my gosh. This is a lot of pressure."


Hey, by the way, nobody ever claimed those sweaters. It's been almost a year. I'd say the statute of limitations on claiming them is up.

Don't try this at home.

Oh, wait. That IS my home.
Richard just sent me these photos from our garage.

That's definitely my little Volkswagon strewn all over the place.

Rich is replacing the timing belt. There was only a LITTLE concern about the fact that all the parts came labeled in German...

Three posts in one day. I should get to work so -V- doesn't get too upset with me.

Saff'ed my @$$

I'm hesitant to call my lips "cured," but the Safflower Oil really seems to be helping.
If anybody's keeping score:
Erin: 1, Universe: 4.
I'll tell you about those four some other time.

Also, to those about to rock, WE SALUTE YOU!

Oh, and, P-ness.

Bathroom Panic

Ok, I might be posting too many bathroom stories, but this one really cannot go untold.

This morning, I was standing in front of the humongous wall mirror in the bathroom here on the second floor. At that time of the morning there is usually a high amount of traffic, but today for some reason things were pretty slow.

I took my time applying my mascara and fixing my hair. (I know, I should be putting on makeup at home, but I say to you--at least I'm wearing makeup.)

When I entered the bathroom, I noticed two feet firmly planted in the deathly silent handicapped stall. I went about my business and didn't pay much attention until ten minutes later when they still had not moved.

This is when I started to panic.

"Oh, Lord," I thought. "She's dead. What the eff am I going to do if she's dead?"

I considered tapping on the door and asking if she was ok, but...come ON! How weird is that? Maybe she just wanted a little alone time and here I am, some freak, tapping on the door and interrupting her morning meditation. (I would be upset if I went in there for a little nap and got interrupted...not that I would EVER do that.) OR I might just tap on the door in time to save her life.

Immediately visions of me running, screaming from the bathroom; talking to the police behind yellow caution tape all red-faced and upset; and then heading home early for the day due to the shock flashed through my head.

Did she kill herself? Did she have a heart attack? Is she narcoleptic? Is she a man who walked in to the wrong bathroom and waiting for a chance to leave?

I was bracing myself for the worst when one of my friends came in. I hustled her outside and told her what was going on. She became very concerned and marched right into the bathroom to check out the firmly planted feet.

She looked at me and shrugged. Oh-so-helpful and reassuring.

By the time my friend had flushed the toilet, the handicapped toilet flushed.

I slammed my makeup back in my purse and ran for the door.

Blogworthy

If anyone in the bathroom with me this afternoon has a blog, I'm pretty sure I probably made it on to their posts for today.
Let me explain.

Last week, I had the joy of getting together with an old friend from my past. She heard about my lip troubles and reached out to me. She had two kinds of cream for me to try and a third as a recommendation. Unfortunately, none of them turned out to be safe for pregnancy, so yet again, I'm out of ideas. At least I WAS. (At any rate, it was AWESOME to see you, Kris!)

I read an article recently about Safflower Oil.

The article said that Safflower Oil is in many high-end and highly effective mosturizers--the kind you find at Saks Fifth Avenue, Barney's, and Macy's. It suggested using straight up Safflower Oil as a moisturizer and can be found in most grocery stores.

Can you see where I'm going here?

In a last-ditch effort to save my lips, I made the trek to Cub today over lunch (with another admin friend who is very interested in the outcome of my chapping) in search of Safflower Oil.

I found it alright. A whole gallon.

Did I let the sheer volume of oil stop me?

Oh no.

From Cub we walked to the Dollar Store (with my gallon of oil under my arm) to look for a small bottle or container so I could keep some of the miracle oil at my desk or in my purse, etc (I'm not too thrilled about putting a bottle of oil in my purse, so we may need to be a little more creative...). {Vonda, did I punctuate this sentence properly? The "etc." threw me off.} We seached literally for 15 minutes before I found a package of small bottles with tight enough seals to risk it.

Then we went back to work.

This is where my blogworthiness comes in.

Imagine what I must have looked like to the other women in the bathroom, pouring my gallon jug of Safflower Oil into smaller containers. Sure, I could have waited til I got home, but I'm starting to get desperate. Actually...I think I crossed over into Desperateville about three weeks ago when I smeared a piece of bacon all over my lips.

Anyway, if I had seen me, I would have blogged about me.

I'm just saying.

I'm trying the miracle oil momentarily.

I'll keep you all posted.

~~~~~~~~~~~

*Update*

This is the article I originally read about it!

The oil tastes...oily, but honestly seems to be helping. I'm trying not to get my hopes up.

Bad Grammar

Bad grammar makes me [sic].

Dear Kristi,

I'm sorry I called you an insensitive ass.
Among other things.
To co-workers.
And strangers.
Really sorry.
Love,
Sort of an Ass

Dear Kristi,

I forgive you.
You are my Numero Uno.
Please don't tell my child when it's born.
Love,
Your Numero Uno

p.s. I'd vote for you over Hilary any day.

Personality Test

Screw Myers Briggs.
Try the Oreo Personality Test.
1. Are you a regular or double stuf? Or 'other flavor'?
2. Milk?
3. If yes, are you a dunker?
4. Can you eat just one? Or one row at a time?
5. When you wake up in the middle of the night craving Milk's Favorite Cookie, do you:
a. Wait til you can run to the store, no big deal.
b. Wake up your spouse weeping and send him/her to the store immediately.
c. Eat something else.
6. How many Oreos are in a row?
7. If your friend has Oreos in his/her teeth, do you:
a. Run out and buy a pack of Oreos immediately.
b. Laugh to yourself--you've been there.
c. Do nothing.
d. Tell them.

I think your answers will be very telling.


Also, I'm an ENFP, if you're wondering.

HAHA--NO! I'm an OREO.
Oh, I kill myself.

Dear Kristi,

You are on my list.
The bottom of my list.
You know what you did.
Sincerely yours,
Your Numero DOS.

p.s. WE. ARE. IN. A FIGHT.
p.p.s. Or, as Micah Gray would say, "LMNOP! I am so mad at you!! LMNOP! You have made me angry! LMNOP! I am a PHILISTINE! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

M&M's

This weekend with the fam, we were discussing food.
Noonie and Aunt Lori don't like it when their food touches on their plate.
Naturally, this led to a discussion about M&M's. Apparently Lori and Mandi also separate their M&M's and eat them by color.
I remember taking road trips to Nebraska and my mom would put an M&M in her mouth and tell us what color it was. To this day, I still don't know HOW SHE KNEW!!!
Anyhow, after our M&M's discussion at the table, I thought to myself, "I'm glad I don't have any weird quirks like that."
So, today I'm eating Dark Chocolate Peanut M&M's, and sure enough, what am I doing?
I dumped them all out and am eating whichever color has the MOST in the pile. I work down the line from there.
I guess we're all a little weird.

They'll bring you down.

I was talking with my sister this morning about a frustrating situation when she said,
"They'll bring you down faster than you can bring them up."
I'll leave the rest of the context up to you.
Then, my daily calendar told me.
"To those who by persistence in doing good seek glory, honor and immortality, he will give eternal life." Romans 2:7

Am I seeking glory and honor--or even goodness--in this frustrating situation?
Now I am.

Gr.

Dear Levis,

I would like to extend a literary handshake to the brilliant mind that came up with STRETCH JEANS.
Which bozo on your board of directors said, "I have a great idea! Let's make all of our jeans 98% cotton and 2% lycra from now on! We'll replace ALL of our jeans with stretchy jeans and make it impossible to find a regular pair of jeans anywhere!!!"? I'd like to meet him.
How do I know it's a "him?" It can't have been a woman. No self-respecting woman looks forward to having a "saggy butt" after two hours of wearing her jeans that fit fine this morning.
If I wanted my jeans to sag and fall down as I walk from the parking lot to work on my FIVE "Nice Jeans Days" out of the year, I would buy them that way.
Yes, I paid $25 to a charity for the priveledge of wearing jeans every Friday between now and Thanksgiving. Yes, this is something I greatly look forward to. Sad? Perhaps.
Not the point.
I want my $25 back. From you.
The joy of "Nice Jeans Days" is smeared all over the pavement like a dead raccoon because I have to pull my pants up all day. All day. A belt does not help. The pants stretch and sag AROUND the belt.
I want my $25 back, because that's at least what it cost me in pride for knowing that my boss saw my ass crack this morning when I reached under my desk to turn on my heater. Not because my jeans were inappropriately low. Oh, no. Because they fit at 7:30 this morning, and by 9, they were three sizes too big.
Thank you very much, Levis.
Please send the check to my home.
Sincerely pissed off and stretched out,
Erin

Prayer Request

My brother is meeting with a Navy recruiter today at 4:30 (right now!), and taking the ASVAB on Saturday.
This is the most exciting news since I heard about Eva Prathiba.
Please, if you are so moved, join me in praying that God's message would be revealed to McClain at his meeting today.
I love him so much--I just can't WAIT to see what God's plan for him is.

New Rule

I got an email from Richard today while I was gone at lunch.
It was one line:

"New Rule - no more eating with dishes..."

In a following email he suggested that someone should invent dish liners.
I will add this to my supersecret list of inventions that will make me very wealthy some day.
Yes, there really is a list. The only person who knows what's on it (besides cyberspace knowing about dish liners) is Lauren. This really could be the one secret she will never tell.

This post will self-destruct in five seconds.

Of Course

Of COURSE I'm wearing khaki pants today.

Of COURSE I spilled guacamole ALL over them.

I'm just saying.

A Blair Witch Christmas

One year for Christmas the fam went to Dauphin Island, Florida to "go somewhere" and celebrate Christmas.
If memory serves, it was our first Christmas "away from home" in Alabama and we were all probably feeling a little lonely. I'm thinking it would have been around 1998. Possibly Christmas of 1999, but I really can't remember. Either way, I was about seventeen.
We stayed at a cabin on the Air Force base down there, where Lauren, McClain and I stayed in one room together with a set of three bunk beds.
Mom and dad were INCREDIBLY sick that Christmas and spent most of the long weekend laying in their own twin beds (in the Master Suite, obviously), and the three of us played Tony Hawk (the first and best one!) for about 72 hours straight on McClain's Playstation.
It was at this time that The Blair Witch Project came out on video and I had recently watched it with a group of friends. Frankly, it scared the sh*t out of me. (Yes, I knew it wasn't real. I'm a HUGE wimp. The last horror movie I watched was the Ring.) I just don't do well with fear--a reaction to some of my spiritual gifts, I think, but that's a different conversation, and not really blog fodder.
Anyhow, I think at this point, it's time to describe the cabin. Please don't imagine a cozy little Northern Minnesota-esque cabin. Imagine a barracks, complete with pleather waiting-room style couches and a 17-inch television. I think there was a kitchen, but I don't remember it at ALL. The kitchen was NOT the highlight of the weekend, as it usually is for most holidays (for me, anyhow!).
Our first night there, all I could think about was the Blair Witch coming to get me. I thought for sure she would steal me away and make me stand facing the corner while she did whatever it was that she did.
I got myself so worked up that I woke my siblings and forced them to move two sets of beds to the middle of the room. Then I made them both sleep with me in our makeshift king-sized bed, with me in the middle, of course.
They were surprisingly compliant with my requests and slept with me all weekend.
Looking back now, of course, it's all pretty foolish, but a very fond memory.
I can't remember anything I got for Christmas that year or which restaurants we ate at. Go figure. : )

Just like mom used to make!

Four things nobody makes as good as Mom:
1. Chili
2. Potato Salad
3. Meatloaf
4. Chocolate chip cookies

Others?

Congratulations, Rankin Family!

Congratulations, Ed & Vonda!!
Praise God for your little Eva!

Midas Touch

What would the opposite be of the Midas Touch?
Because that's what I have.

A Song in Your...Heart?

WARNING: This post contains mildly graphic content.

This morning in the ladies room, I was in a stall next to a woman who hummed the entire time she tinkled.
Talk about keeping a song in your heart. That was one joyful woman.

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in Corporate America that I can't tell what's normal and what's weird anymore.

Just to confirm, humming while peeing is weird, right?

The Office

Yesterday I was talking with one of my co-workers when she said, "Are you growing your hair out?"
I said, "Yes! Do you like it?"
She said, "Um, yeah...it's ok."

This Little Light of Mine

On my mind today:
I went for Chinese food with my dad a couple of weeks ago. (It was a one-shot deal, and I can't stomach the thought of Chinese, once again.)
My fortune cookie said, "Your influence has a profound impact on others."
Sometimes I entertain the intensely self-serving thought that this might be true.
I'd much prefer to think that if it is true, it's the Holy Spirit shining through me.
I have the fortune hanging on my bulletin board behind my desk phone at work to remind myself not to "hide it under a bushel" or "let Satan blow it out."
Some days it's a lot easier than others.

Halloween Candy

There is ONE good thing about this part of the year--leading straight through til Easter.
The candy!
Somebody left me a bag of mixed candy (you know, one of those 5lb whompers that has 15 different kinds of candy?) and I've been eating myself sick on SweetTarts and Laffy Taffy all day.
Here are some gems from my taffy:
A. What does a pig put on his cut?
B. Why was the cat afraid of the tree?
C. What is a fish's favorite country?
D. Why is the baker so mean?

See comments for answers!

October

Many of you blogged
about how happy you were
that fall is coming.

Let me take the chance
to say just how much I HATE
this dead time of year.

I'm happy that you
think this is such a nice time,
let me stay in bed.

The Office

Dear Pat and Carla,
Ok, so...
He hit Meredith with his car within the first 30 seconds of the show.
It's going to be a good season.
Love,
Erin & Richard

It's a Girl!

Welcome to the world
Sophia Colette Nourse!
Sophia Colette was born this morning at 3:12am, weighing 6lbs 13oz and measuring 20.25 inches long.
She has dark fuzz all over her head and dark eyes.
In the time that it took me to call people at 4am and tell them the news, Jared called Richard BACK and said, "Come now!" So we jumped in the car and went off to meet the little Sweet Pea.
Naomi said Sophia didn't cry when she was born, but just made some noises. By the time we got there, she was trying out her lungs and sucking on her fists. I'm exhausted and dreading the work day now, but it was WELL worth it.
Naomi, Jared and Sophia are all doing very well, though very tired.
It was so wonderful to meet the baby. I pray that the Lord will bless her and that she will grow up to be a gentle and Godly woman, wife and mother.
God bless you, little girl. We've been waiting for you!


I was only able to get one photo before my camera died.
If I get over there later today, I will post more pics.

Hi

Highland cow says, "Hi, Sasha."

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.