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!
; )
Monday, July 30, 2007
Friday, July 27, 2007
Thursday, July 26, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, July 20, 2007
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.
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.
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.
(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.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
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!
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!
Monday, July 16, 2007
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. : (
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. : (
Friday, July 13, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
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.
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.
Weird, huh? Nobody sent flowers or anything. No gold watch, no parade.
Geez, Louise!
I don't get no respect.
Monday, July 09, 2007
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.
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.
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!
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!
Monday, July 02, 2007
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.
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.
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