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!