To quote the pastor:

Never get in a fight with an ugly person. They've got nothing to lose. - Pastor Gary

Boggle

Once I heard Rich Mullins in an interview talking about when he was little loving to sing Christmas carols at church. It was the one time of the year he got to say ass and not get in trouble. He said when it came to that word in the song, he loved to belt it out louder than anyone.

Today the girls and I were playing Boggle. Boggle is a game where you scramble letters and then make as many words as you can with the scrambled letters. It's a favorite in our house, beat out only by Scrabble. In one round of our Boggle game, the word "shit" was there. I wondered if any of my girls would catch it.

Sure enough, when it was Hannah's turn to list her words, she smiled and boldly said, "Shit".

When Gordon came home, she said something like, "Daddy you won't believe what happened. We were playing Boggle and the "s-word" was there. I got to say it and I didn't even get in trouble. I said it like it was a regular word."

PS Sunday, one day later, on the way home from church, Hannah remarked, "Remember yesterday when we played Boggle and I said the s-word."

Lightdays

For Amusement

Last night I couldn't sleep so I ended up at the computer searching for things to make me laugh, smile, or generally amuse me. Here are some things that did at least one of those.

http://www.vidilife.com/index.cfm?f=media.play&vchrMediaProgramIDCryp=DED7ADA7-E082-4BC0-A4EA-1

I laughed out loud when I watched that and I could see myself in just about every one of those women, sparing a couple of course.

Now for a challenge:

1. While sitting at your desk, lift your right foot off the floor and make clockwise circles.

2. Now, while doing this, draw the number "6" in the air with your right hand.

Were you able to keep that foot going clockwise? Me neither.

Last, check this out when you have a few minutes to kill, like when you have caffeine late in the day and are cruising the internet in the wee morning hours. It's the "episode" section on the side that is amusing.

http://dogblogtv.com

Cute, eh?

For some reason, I couldn't get either of the above websites to become links. So select them and put them in your browser window and then you can watch them.

Work of the Devil

Yesterday Hannah found herself on a website that measured "how much one's soul is worth." She explored the site - much against the house rules - and immediately told me what she'd done. She was very bothered by what she'd read. Very seriously, yet sounding like an old lady, she remarked, "Well I think that's the devil's work."

It's a phrase I'm pretty sure she's never heard in this house. I was amused by her astute observation.

Office Chair

Gordon has a new chair at work. Actually it's not a new chair, it was used by someone else before he inherited it.

Last week he came home in the middle of the day to change pants. He said his pants were stinky. I assumed they must have been damp when I hung them and they took on a sour smell.

However he has been smelling that "stinky smell" for several days. Today it dawned on him that perhaps it was the chair. He knelt down to smell the chair and quickly discovered the odor was from the chair, not him.

He asked for a new chair and learned that the person who had the chair before him had a "problem". Gordon was greatly relieved to know he was not the source of the odor. Revealing his prior fears that the smell was himself, he said, "Man, I thought I needed to see a doctor or something."

Secret to Marriage

While walking out of the library today, a black man in a car seemed to take particular interest in me. In truthfulness, it's been a long time since I've been "noticed" so I assumed this interest was actually his wanting my parking spot. Once I was in my van, he ran up to me. I abandoned all rules of city-life and opened my window. He rested both arms on my door like we were ole pals. He told me I looked familiar. I was pretty slow on the self-preservation draw and told him all about myself sparing my shoe size. The only thing that kept me from being afraid was the broad daylight and people all around. He looked at me thoughtfully and said, "I know you from somewhere," several times.

"Did you date Vernon?," he asked. This seemed a great time to mention my husband, so I said, "no, I'm married. I've been married a long time." I threw in the "long time" bit so he'd know I wasn't connected to Vernon. Unfortunately that was the part he honed in on. I was embarrassed because in the grand scheme of life, I know I've not been married a long time. Stretching the truth by a year, I answered 15 years.

Prolonging my uncomfortableness and mild embarrassment, he said, "Wow, you must be an incredible woman." I put the car in reverse wanting this friendly conversation with a stranger to be over. He took my subtle hint and backed away. But he immediately re-started the conversation with, "So tell me your secret."

"Secret?," I asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Yeah man. What's the secret to staying married for so long?" (Yes dear reader, I agree with you in what you're thinking. It's a sad world when 15 years is "long.")

For some strange reason, I felt compelled to actually think before I answered something corny like "he works nights, I work days." I chewed on my lower lip and briefly wondered what my "secret" was. Many things were running through my head, some none too virtuous. Among other things, I felt hypocritical for his assuming 15 years of marital bliss. But I conquered the urge to say, "Secret? I've no secret. We stay together for the kids." (As you may be discerning, yes it was a bad day to talk marital secrets.)

But somehow, I strayed from my usual pattern of saying something totally stupid and bizarre. Having thought a few seconds, I said, "Doing the right thing." Proud of my wisdom, I repeated myself, "Yes, doing the right thing is the secret to marriage."

He was impressed as I with my wisdom and quickly responded (and became my new best friend) with, "You are an awesome woman. You are super."

I bid him farewell and away I drove. Sitting high and proud in my driver seat, feeling somehow awesome and super.

reno update

Here are some photos of our work this week. It's coming along, eh?

light bulbs

How many Pentecostals does it take to change a light bulb? One, since his/her hands are in the air anyway.

How many Calvinists does it take to change a light bulb? None. God has predestined when the lights will be on.

How many Brethren does it take to change a light bulb? CHANGE?!!!

How many Charismatics does it take to change a light bulb? 10, one to change it and 9 others to pray against the spirit of darkness.

How many tv evangelists does it take to change a light bulb? One. But for the message of hope to continue to go forth, send in your donation today.

How many Roman Catholics does it take to change a light bulb? None: Candles only.

How many Amish does it take to change a light bulb? What's a light bulb?

How many Polygamous Mormons does it take to change a light bulb? Five. One man to change the bulb, and four wives to tell him how to do it.

How many Jehovah's Witnesses does it take to change a light bulb? Three. One to screw in the bulb, and two to knock on your door and ask you if you've seen the light!

How many Unitarians does it take to change a light bulb? We choose not to make a statement either in favor of or against the need for a light bulb. However, in your own journey, if you have found that light bulbs work for you, that is fine. You are invited to write a poem or compose a modern dance about your light bulb for the next Sunday service, in which we will explore a number of light bulb traditions, including incandescent, fluorescent, three-way, long-life and tinted, all of which are equally valid paths to luminescence.

And finally, how many psychiatrist does it take to change a light bulb? One, but it will be expensive, take a long time, and the lightbulb has to want to change.

Chaos Continues

Our house renos are coming along, yet slower than I'd like. Lord willing, tonight we will move back into the living room. This ongoing chaos explains the absence of postings from me. Perhaps soon I'll show you pictures of my butterscotch and pumpkin colored living room.

We have moved back into our bedroom, yet all the finishing work isn't done. It looks good. I'm pleased.

Our refinished hardwood floors look spectacular. With that completed job, the parental anal retentive level has increased enormously. "Eekk, get those shoes off."

I know of people who live for years with reno projects in process. I'd admire their ability. I'm afraid I'd lose my mind.

In other news, shortly we'll pick Deborah up and take her to the dentist. The poor child is getting an appliance that will keep her from sucking her thumb. Yes, our little 7 year old still sucks her thumb. She says it's juicy and taste good. Alas, she's getting protruding teeth, so this habit needs to be attacked. This will bring the grand total of kids in this house with metal in their mouth to 3 out of 3. (I told Gordon he gave our kids bad genes because my other two have great teeth.)

That's it for now. Stay tuned for updates. :-)

chaos

Close your eyes... Imagine... Tranquil green meadows, a turquoise lake, melodious songbirds, blue skies, warm sunshine. Awhh. Peace and beauty.

Now snap out of that sweet daydream and enter my reality. A full house of furniture shoved haphazardly into 2 small bedrooms; clothes needed, yet unreachable; library books overdue sitting in a bag in the far corner, right behind the stereo that's on top of the dresser. This is my life this week and perhaps next week too.

Nerves are raw, emotions taxed, clothes wrinkled-the ones we can find. Yes, chaos.

As I've mentioned before, we are giving the house a little (doesn't feel little) makeover. This week the hardwood floors are being refinished. Was it not for the fumes, I'd invite you for a sneak preview, -- oh but the piano is in the front door and that makes visitors ill-at-ease: "Here just climb over. Put your left foot here, give me your hand and I'll pull you..." That's the part that makes people cringe.

The kitchen is barely habitable for the sofa standing against the wall and the chairs on the table. We are coping though and it's not as bad as I had imagined. My beloved is helping me lots by taking us out to eat and bringing home fast food.

Poor Lucy. She's stressed right out. She threw up all evening Monday and now she's hiding under a bed.

If all goes well, we can move the furniture back where it belongs on Saturday, but we probably won't as we still need to paint and install new baseboards. We haven't agreed on paint colors yet. Last night I said, whatever, just choose something. It will be a surprise for me.

All this to say, you won't be hearing much from me as the computer is hiding behind the dining table, 6 chairs, and a curio cabinet. This little update is from the library.

So,... wish us well. Only the excitement of the house changes is keeping us sane. But the floor looks great.

Thursday Thirteen

13 Things I’d Do Differently Given a Second Chance

1) I wouldn’t date in high school.

2) And I sure as hell wouldn’t have sex in high school.

3) I would be nicer to my sister Stacie as a teenager.

4) As teenagers, Stacie and I would help each other have the good sense to do the things we should.

5) I would go straight to college from high school.

6) I would finish that degree.

7) I would go to East Texas University where I had a full scholarship for Business and Journalism.

8) Supposing all the above never took place, but still playing the game of Second Chance, I’d be a better wife to Kent. I was a self-righteous bitch. I didn’t realize it until I was married to Gordon. Age is wondrous at showing us our folly.

9) Once divorced though, I would never remarry and never date. (This is in no way about Gordon, rather a belief about divorce and remarriage that came post-re-marriage for me.)

10) I wouldn’t work at CMA.

11) I would be humble and recognize my absolute need and dependence on God to sustain me.

12) I would eat lots of fruits and vegetables from the get-go.

13) I would learn compassion for the poor and the joy of living simply early in life.

I could easily keep going, but then I’d have to change the name of my post.

Post Script: I have been told by an astute reader that this blog implies I wouldn't marry Gordon again. My intent was not to be negative toward Gordon. I've made more mistakes than I can shake a stick at. The mistakes mentioned here are mostly from way before I met Gordon. Gordon is a most wonderful man and I couldn't ask for a better husband. (Maybe some days, but not most). ;-)

staff appreciation

I've told you before that my part-time employer is less than desirable. There is little appreciation and affirmation to be had there. Last night though, we had a staff appreciation event. For 2 brief hours there were a few items I wanted that would be 70% off.

I told Gordon about the event and he quickly ascertained that I was about to ask for money. He said, "Staff appreciation night. Let me guess, you'll take all the appreciation you can get?"

I thought that was a very funny way of saying, "you want money, don't you?"

Hannah's Signature

Hannah enjoys writing her name and exploring new and unique signatures. Watching her write her name over and over last night, I was reminded of the very first time she actually "signed" something.

We had two hamsters, Chimpy and Reepicheep. Chimpy belonged to Hannah, Reepicheep to Rachael. When we were ready for baby hamsters, we put them in the same cage and watched the science lesson unfold before us.

A couple weeks later, I picked the girls up at school and we rushed home to discreetly watch the delivery. Again, very fascinating and beautiful. The girls were wowed.

We watched as eight little hamster babies grew and became independent. Hannah tried to sell them to her friends and relatives to now avail. Finally it was time to part with them as I was afraid they were getting old enough to start reproducing. With love, gentleness, and quite a lot of sadness, the girls put the babies in an ice cream bucket.

We went to the pet store, and since Hannah was the rightful owner, I stood quietly beside her as she tried to sell the manager her hamsters. (I had phoned ahead and knew it was most likely they'd take them as I'd been told they'd take our baby hamsters if they looked healthy. They were healthy, so I assumed it would all go well.)

Hannah was six years old. She stood with her shoulders back looking so thoughtful and confident as she spoke to the lady. "Would you like to have my hamsters?," she asked as they looked at the energetic rodents in her ice cream pail.

The manager responded with, "How much do you want for them?" She addressed me, but I quickly redirected the question to Hannah. Truthfully, I didn't expect money, I just needed to get rid of the cute babies before we single-handedly multiplied the rodent population exponentially.

Hannah looked up and asked her with no guidance from me, "Would $2 be too much?" This was becoming way more of an education than I had envisioned. I was milking it for all it was worth. When the manager asked me a question, I'd say, "Their not my hamsters, their her's." (Yes I know the manager probably had bigger and better things to do, but I was molding a young heart and I viewed that with awesome seriousness and beauty.)

It was agreed upon. $2!

When the manager went to the till to get the money, Hannah looked at me with those big blue eyes and shrugged her shoulder as if to say, "Can you believe it?"

The manager returned with not $2, rather $16. $2 per hamster! Hannah looked at me with eyes like saucers, but remained cool as if she were expecting $16 all along. After the lady counted out the money into Hannah's chubby little hand, she turned to me and asked me to sign the receipt. Again, I redirected the transaction to Hannah. The lady, perhaps annoyed with me, handed Hannah the pen. Hannah was puzzled so I coached her, "She wants you to sign your name. Write you name right here." With grave seriousness, Hannah gripped the pen firmly. She sucked in her bottom lip and bit it as if the harder she bit, the better her printing would be. With deliberate precision she wrote across the bottom of the receipt, H A N N A H

The lady asked if we wanted our ice cream pail back and Hannah told her no. We started to leave and Hannah said, "Mom can you believe I got $2 for each of them? I thought I was getting $2 for all of them."

She gasped and ran back to the manager, clearly remembering something. I arrived just in time to hear her say, "I forgot. Do you want to know their names?"

It's a precious memory.