Five Minute Friday

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking 2. Link back here and invite others to join in. 3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..

Today's Topic?

PATH
The Path I was on a year ago doesn't seem like the path I am on today. I do not know if that means we have strayed then or now. Or maybe it means we have grown beyond the scenery of the paths of old so it's simply unrecognizable. Last Friday, The Man received a phone call from the City of Reno offering him his position back as a fire fighter. Monday, I called my principal from my previous job and she said, "Please come teach our little peanut head kindergarteners." She didn't really word it that way, but that is what I heard.

We accepted both positions and began packing. The whole process will take two weeks. We have to be packed, moved out, and in Reno for a physical June 25. That's next Monday. I thought when I was feeling some separation from my kids' schools here that it meant we would be moving to Boise. I thought when our church was nice but not a skinny jeans type fit that we would find a new church in Boise. Last Monday, I prayed for hours in my bed and refused to move before God washed contentment over me. He did. I got out of bed renewed. And then Reno called to shake the snow globe that is my life. Clearly our path is taking a new course.

STOP

My First Link Up: Let's Talk Tuesday

I am hosting my very first link up! There is a chance I will do this all wrong, but I decided to brave the world of blog hosting in hopes of not only linking you together with bloggers of similar interests, but I also love reading what nonsense is spinning through your head. Here are the rules:

Let's Talk Tuesday

1. What's on your mind? Pick a topic (hopefully random) and give in to a short gab, letting out the pent up thoughts that just need freeing. If you can't think of a topic, you can use mine, but I encourage you to get out whatever has been keeping your brain preoccupied. Examples? Dogs in sweaters; how do you feel about it? Why won't the corners of my sheets stay put? Will my hair be this large in heaven? Should I unpack already packed boxes if I am sure there are things in there I should get rid of? Just free your mind, and start typing.

2. Visit the blog that came before you. The whole point of a link up is to meet someone you may not otherwise run into in the blog-o-sphere.

3. No diatribes. I am not one to dwell on the bitterness. Turn that smile upside down and write about something thought provoking, not something that is going to drive your readers to stick their head under the covers.

4. Grab my Let's Talk Tuesday button and invite people on your blog to link up here.

So, Let's Talk Tuesday: What have I been keeping pent up in this brain of mine? It's more of a question really. When is too soon to share with new friends? Last night I was at a cooking show, because I do this on the side. The side of wife, the side of mom, the side of teacher, the side of writer, the side of blogger. I have a lot of sides. 
So, there I am. It's the end of the demonstration of pizza a chocolate cake (win/win) and I am sitting with the host when her little boy runs in from the backyard and announces to the room of friends (and me. the stranger), "MOM! Jay is PEEING in the DOG bowl!!!" 
As a good supportive mother, I didn't laugh right away. On the outside. As any good mother hosting a house full of women, she spoke over him and pushed him kindly into Dad's arms. When everyone else resumed their boisterous conversations in the other room, I quietly shared with her THIS story. We both laughed until we cried, but the whole way home I kept thinking, "hmmm. Was it too soon to share this story? Was it too soon to let her know I told my son to secretly pee in a stranger's yard?" What do you think? Too soon. 

<div align="center"><a href="http://kreativly.blogspot.com/2012/06/my-first-link-up-lets-talk-tuesday.html" title="Nonsense at its Finest"><img src="http://im1.shutterfly.com/media/47a2d824b3127ccef01f13e1b1f900000030O02AZNHLds3Ysge3nwg/cC/f%3D0/ps%3D50/r%3D0/rx%3D550/ry%3D400/" alt="Nonsense at its Finest" style="border:none;" /></a></div>

Seizing Is Not The Same as Seizure

Sure these two words share a root, but so do koalas and kangaroos. This past week, I have been processing and asking and questioning and releasing in my conversations with God. We have lived in Idaho for almost a year now, and well. It hasn't stuck as quickly as Reno.

In Reno, we went to a church my brother recommended. They had me at free Krispie Cream donuts and coffee. Plus, the pastor actually seemed to be good at what he does. We fit. We just knew it was gonna fit like OJ when he tried on some gloves. Only we saw no need to weasel out of it. We were thrilled. I met two of my closest friends instantly. One is only a blog lurker (dear Ms. Marie. come out of the interwebs closet. We all know you are on here), the other has quite a mouth on her. Everything about the city was great. It was as if we were in a bowl with Reno and someone just added water. Presto Zingo. Instant happiness.

Years went by, and my husband lost his job, and he was offered a new job as a really hot fire fighter in Idaho. We accepted and set about to finding a church and adding water. But instead of instant happiness, our eyes were opened to how good we really had it. Presto Zingo. thump. My head beating against the wall.

I spent a lot of time comparing. I spent a lot of time griping. I spent a lot of time fighting tears. I spent a lot of time spazzing out and lashing out irrationally. Thankfully, God can handle my spastic fits.

Then I realized seizing is not the same as seizures. They may share a root word, but then the similarities end. Whining, tantrums, pity parties, and vocal aggravation: these are things that lead to seizures. Focusing on God's promises of fulfillment for my life, accepting where God has me, and leaning fully on his understanding (rather than my teeny tiny perspective): that's seizing!! It happened this week.

I became content with God's portion and his cup. I realized his lot for me has fallen on pleasant places. I was able to truly thank God for moving us here. I don't think I compared my two cities once. I let Reno go, like ripping that last little part of the bandaid off. And I was OK.

Why does it seem that just when you get comfortable, the rug gets pulled out? About 8 seconds after my bandaid was removed and my contentment washed over me, God said, "Hey, now that we have that covered..."

'It was like that old joke, "All those who think they have it made take one step forward...not so fast George Banks!"'

I am George Banks in this scenario. Only, when I  started processing again I was angry and I accused God of yo-yo'ing me around. AH. God is so good. He didn't even roll his eyes at my stupidity.

It isn't God that's in control of that yo-yo. He is not a yo-yo kind of guy. He may own cattle on a thousand hills, but he doesn't have a yo-yo. No my friend, that childish game is all mine. All me.

That nauseating back and forth of highs and lows is actually my faith. Not God's faithfulness. He is solid and steady and dependable and right and real. And that blasted string is affixed so tightly to my finger. And, honestly, I don't want it to go.

WHAT? I know what you are thinking. Who wants to live life like a yo-yo? But I need to remember what the yo-yo is like, so I don't ever want to go back. Rather than yanking the string off completely, I am asking God to snip it, just enough to leave that little string tied to my finger. And, I am telling God that I am up for anything. ANYthing. Because I totally trust him.

Lord, I totally trust you.

satan. Suck it. I hope you choke on a yo-yo.



 

Loverly and Not so Loverly Wednesdays

I love this link up. (Click that girl. You will love her.)

Not so much the word hate. It's like saying shut up. Always so harsh.

I love vintage.

Not so much the hunting through garage sales and dust. I have an allergy fit for a week after a good antique store.

I love coffee.

Not so much when I am out of creamer and my only option is sugar free. WHAT IS THE POINT? And what is that weird after taste? DARN YOU COFFEE AND YOUR WICKED WOMAN WAYS. I can't quit you.

I love the sense of accomplishment exercise brings.

I hate putting one foot in front of another because that would mean I am having self-control and I have made a lifestyle of living with NO self-control. So, you see? It's counter intuitive.

I love that I am done with school.

I hate that I wake in the middle of the night paranoid that my deferments aren't actually in place and maybe I was supposed to send my right arm and first born to cover the first month's payment. Also, I miss school. No I don't. Yes I do. No I really don't. But I kind of do.

Welcome to Hollywood

If I tell you something, can you keep it a secret? I want to be a writer when I grow up. Some may argue that I am already grown, but I will point my finger back at them and say the fact that I call my self a grown up, and not an adult, proves I am IN FACT a child. I am comfortable with it.

I have given a few tid bits here and there and I have honestly made some headway toward completing this bad boy I call THE BOOK.

Sometimes I get very excited about a project or calling on my life, only to organize and plan, and then I get a fake case of ADHD, and I can be found setting up for a fully different project. I refuse to let this be true of my book. So, in order to be truly welcomed to Hollywood, I am shouting out my dream (this reference should be familiar if you have ever watched Pretty Woman. Everyone who comes to Hollywood has a dream.)

Here is an excerpt. Again. Just so you know I am not going to stop wrestling until I get the blessing I have been promised. This is from chapter one, and I am getting ready to outline how a mother and a missionary are one and the same. (One in the same? Home? Hone? These are the battles that plague me.)

Do you ever feel like you cannot remember your purpose? I mean, maybe you know some of it, but you cannot quite find that big glowing path some of those other joy-filled mothers claim to be following. At the end of the day, you have washed some laundry, dried some dishes, cooked some food for people living in your house, and swept a floor. Still, you are left thinking, “That can’t really be all I am meant to do, right?” Maybe you find yourself pursuing so many paths that between keeping up with your kids’ hectic schedules, your husband’s business dinners, and an ongoing list of ministries, you end each day staring at the wall, mouth agape, wondering what in the world you accomplished. * And, please, do not get me started on giving back to the community, because most days I think showering is about as giving as I can be to others. Unless, of course, you count how many diapers I contribute to the dump each year, the number of children I have added to the earth, or how knowledgeable I am at getting lip gloss out of clothes once they have gone through the dryer. Of course, after I am done with

* Picture Goldie Hawn after her first day of playing ‘mother’ in the movie Overboard. Remember, the kids just kept throwing grapes at her while she mumbled ‘bub buh buub?’

this line of thinking, I start to feel guilty for feeling so useless. (Isn’t our thought process relentless?) One minute I am overwhelmed with my calling and the next I am just confused by it. I do not think God meant it to be so confusing. If you are a mother, your purpose is clear. You may or may not be called to Africa, but you are certainly called to be a missionary. 

I repeat- you ARE called to be a missionary. Take a minute and look around. What do you see? Whom do you see? My friend, you are looking at your mission field. Your mission field is your home, and your mission is to share Jesus with those little (sometimes Aborigines) who call you mommy. 

Please don't plagiarize me. It's considered poor form. Please be blessed. DO IT! Sorry I bossed you. I just really want you to feel blessed and challenged and encouraged that you are not alone in this confusing mess called mothering.

The * is a foot note that (outside of this blog) is located in the foot note department, not the middle of my work.  

 

Revealing

God is so good at revealing. He brings everything together in the end better than any Seinfeld episode ever could, which is saying something. My morning coffee and God time went something like this: Prayers, Worship, Word.

This is an excerpt from this morning's prayer journal:

It's so much, this burden I carry.
(You picked up the wrong bag.)
I know. I do. Everyday.
(Let go.)
I want to. But I am double minded. I want to. I want you and every bit of what you have planned- even the more painful plans, but I have relied heavily on self-preservation my entire life. It's counter thinking to release this control.
(How are you doing?)
I am not well. Not at all. I am outside your will every second I hang on to it.
(Let go)
I CAN'T!!
(Let go.)
It hurts. My hands have been gripped around the ropes that hold this burden for too long. They are intertwined. They are fused. My knuckles are white.
(Let go.)
You don't know how much it hurts.
(Don't I? Does it feel like the cross?)
NO, LORD!! How can you even compare the two!!?
(Because you are. I know. Daughter. Let go.)
I am sorry. Again and again. You suffered so much more. Unbearable physical pain, mental pain, and we broke your heart. You CHOSE us and we chose to follow fear....like now. I am choosing fear. Forgive me.
(Let go.)
I'm letting. I'm trying. I am leaning. Will you keep reminding me? Because I seem to let go and then I pick it up again without realizing.
(Yes. See you in five minutes.)
Very funny. I am picking up on your sarcasm.
(I should hope so. I am laying it on rather thick.)
Thank you for loving me for who YOU are and not for what I've done.
(anytime. all the time. every time.)

Then I closed my eyes for a second and realized Jeremy Camp was singing these words to me:

All authority
every victory
is yours

Savior, worthy of honor and glory
worthy of all our praise
you overcame

We will overcome by the blood of the lamb and the word of our testimony- everyone will overcome

THEN, I turned to my Bible study, which is all about healthy living and not at all about what I thought I was discussing with God. It said to read 1 Thessalonians 1:4-5-

For we know, brothers loved by God, that he has chosen you, because our gospel came to you not simply with words, but also with power, with the Holy Spirit, and with deep conviction.

AND, 1Thessalonians 5:24 The one who calls you is faithful, and HE will do it.

AND FINALLY, Deuteronomy 13:3-4
The Lord your God is testing you to find out whether you love him with all your heart and with all your soul. It is the Lord your God you must follow, and him you must revere. Keep his commands and obey him; serve him and hold fast to him.

Sometimes God works everything together in such an obvious message it's as if he is causing a bush to catch fire without really burning. Therefore, the only thing left to do is take off your shoes and praise him. This is holy ground. All other ground is sinking sand.
I see Lord. I SEE.

The rules for today's link up?
1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. And then absolutely, no ifs, ands or buts about it, you need to visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments. Seriously. That is, like, the rule. And the fun. And the heart of this community..

There is a really good chance I didn't follow the five minute rule. :/

Count it ALL Joy

I struggle with the verse that tells me to "count it all joy." I know what Paul meant. And half the time I get it, but when I am smack dab in the middle of the goo, it's tough to remember his point. Last night I woke up several times with the thought, "God, I don't know what you are doing." Then I would fall back to sleep. This morning, so early in the summer morning, I woke with the same thought. "Lord, I don't know what you are doing." Then, I tried to pray because it's a good idea when you want to understand and hear from God, that you take a second to listen after you pose sentiments like mine.

I have interviewed for a full-time teaching position with several schools in Boise. I feel this school district is not only a great fit for my kids, but my teaching styles and philosophies seem to align perfectly- so much so, the principals laugh a little when I tell them my preferred lesson plan model is a mix between two: Madeline Hunter and SIOP. They say, "that's funny. That's exactly what we use now. The district chose the best of both, and it works great so far." Yah. I think so too. 

But instead of getting hired at the end of each interview, I get a call some time later saying the same exact phrase. "You are such a strong candidate, but..." And they let me down easy. To add to the fun, my teaching job for the school year has ended, and I am bringing in a few hundred a month with Pampered Chef, but not enough to cover the bills. The cherry on top? We just lost a significant paycheck from my husband's severance pay. "Lord, I don't know what you are doing."

But maybe I do. Maybe I know God wants to give me a job close to home, instead of 45 minutes away. Maybe he wants to save me money in car upkeep and gas, and allow me to use that drive time to actually BE with my family. Maybe he has plans to prosper me and not to harm me. Maybe HE knows the plans he has for me. Maybe he knows I am seeking my security on the knowledge of landing a teaching job next year. (insert disappointed in myself face).

"All other ground is sinking sand."

So, today, I am thankful that even though the devil tries to mess with my mind and security, I do not lean on him. I fully lean on Jesus' name.

I am thankful I have someone as capable as God, and that I don't have to believe the devil if I don't want to.

I am thankful that I have an education that will one day land me a rad job.

I am thankful that I have a summer of hanging out with my kids and raising them to be the coolest kids in town.

I am thankful that GOD knows the plans he has for me and I need not fret.

I am thankful that God does not hand out demeaning head pats when I am repeatedly doubtful. Instead he hugs me closer.

What are you thankful for? I am linking up with these girls because they remind me to be thankful.
 

Follow Me Wednesday

So, I am wandering blogs tonight. Just checking out who would like to be friends, and who has good things to share with me. I want to be an athletic supporter, and I would like to be supported. Athletically and otherwise.

I love surfing these blogs, meeting these women, and basically finding out we are all on the same boat- moms trying to make an impact as we attempt to take a pleasure cruise through eel infested waters.

Here are a couple blogs I found today. I hope you enjoy them. I am eager to get back.





 

I'd love it if you went whole hog and followed me as well. I know many of you pride yourselves on being a lurker, but don't you think it's time to commit already? Come'on and share some love! You can follow by email or just click that little blue button over there. See me pointing?

Love/Hate Link Up With NoDots

My friend No..el is a really fantastic blogger. She always has been, but lately she has been sprucing her goose (NOT a euphemism).
Today she is hosting a link up. We get to join her in posting anything or one thing or several things with which we have a love slash hate relationship. Click her beautiful face and pay her a visit to check out the serious circus she has going on over there. See me pointing?

LOVE/HATE

I love my hairs.

Not so much when they touch me and make me feel the strangle.

I love my guitar, Rosalie.

Not so much the ouchies she leaves behind making it obvious that I haven't picked her up enough this week.

I love flops, Old Navy ones to be precise.

Not so much the less than baby soft skin to which they lead.

I love Starbucks.

Not so much the Nampa location, as they insist on putting the mouth hole on the seam. Get it together people. That is SO barista training 101.

I love massages (much like the one I had today)

Not so much when they end. PLEASE DON'T GO MASSAGE LADY! :(

What do you love slash hate right now? Leave me a comment, and tell No..el that I sent you.. Or large Marge. Whatevers

Work it Sister

Week two schedule for getting that booty busted. Get your leg warmers on and get to getting.

 (As is typical, when following a new exercise plan, check with your doctor and know your limits)
A few notes: My running app is excellent, and worth the $2.99 price. Those of you who want to bypass this option, just do a jog/walk alternating session. I like to walk for one minute, run for two until my 30 minutes are up.

**Details on the full body plank can be found here

Monday
Running App- 30 minutes with quick but thorough stretch
5 pushups- girl's, boy's, whatevers- just do 5
10 minute for real stretching (get your bendy on)

Tuesday
Running App- 30 minutes
10 minute stretch
30 second full body plank**

Wednesday
We call this day recovery. Drink your water. Eat your protein. Get a massage. Take a bath. Let your muscles heal.

Thursday
Running App- 30 minutes
Five for Five:
5 pushups
5 squats- watch yourself in the mirror and make sure your weight is in your heels
5 minute yoga stretch-really bendy. This will make all the difference.

Friday
Recovery

Saturday
Running App- 30 minutes
One hour workout video- I choose The Dailey Method, and it's amazing. Trust me. Do you trust me?

Stay strong little roots. You can do this!

Things that make my brow furrow

There isn't coffee in my hands.
I wanna watch hours of Gilmore Girls but can't.
There is a fly buzzing around my head, and he isn't small.
I have my third sinus infection of the year. Ghetto
My desire for donuts right this minute.
There isn't coffee in my hands.
Sam (5) can only communicate with passion aka crazy emotions.
My husband is at work.
I have deadlines looming.
I have so many thins to do, I don't know where to begin.
There isn't coffee in my hands.


Things that make me smile?
I hear my big boy helping his brother AND making me coffee. Well played Elijah. Don't tell anyone, but you are totally my favorite.

Five Minute Friday

Don't fight it. Write for five minutes for this Friday's blog link. No editing. No back tracking. Just write. Topic? Opportunity. Ready. Steady. Go.

First of all, I am going to be typing a whole lots more slowly than usual because I may teype quickly, but there are SO many mistakes. Point proven with how I wrote the word "Type".
Opportunity? Oh we all have so many each day, every second. I know I do. I fail to make the most of most of them. I succeed in over thinking most of the ones I jump after. And if I make it that far in the process, I begin to let horrible seeds of doubt take root. Today, I had the opportunity to spend time with my kids as they got out of school early for their last day of school. I opted not to spend as much time with them because I felt my sinus infection creeping in, and I think he is here to stay. Instead, I took the opportunity to take a nap. It so rarely happens around here, and I have been getting up so butt crack of dawn early this week to get my exercise on, I wasn't going to wait to be told twice before seizing this diem.
I saw a license plate on a car that lived next door to my brother. (At least I think that's where I saw it.) It said something like CRPADIEM. I get it. Now. Carpe Diem. Then I thought it said crap a damn.

Five minutes is up.
I think I should apologize. You have to be careful when you step into this mind. It's a scary place sometimes. I am off to snuggle with my movie and tissues. Until we meet again. Crap a damn!

Ode To The Natalie Rose

There's a girl I know
She carries a glow
every day, about her

It's not just a light
It's honest and bright
every day, about her

The patience it takes
new life, high stakes
every day, about her

A season to wait
Trust in God's fate
every day, about her

In honor of my new friend Natalie Rose, in honor of anyone who has been asked to wait an indefinite amount of time while God works everything out in a way that only he can, I dedicate this poem. But mostly to The Natalie Rose.

Waiting is painful. Sometimes it even transfers over to physical pain. I get tense during the day, and I don't even realize it. Then, I go to lay down at night, and instead of melting into my covers and settling into my pillow, I find I can't release the tension. It hurts. I realize I have been clenching my teeth. I realize I have given myself a headache, dull and ever-lingering in the base o my neck. Then I get super frustrated with myself for being such a doubter through my pain.

I am choosing. I am choosing to focus on my list of everything for which I am grateful. Not grateful because I have accomplished them. Things that are amazing because they are true gifts and blessings to me. Things I couldn't have made or picked for myself or done better.

A husband who loves me most.

Five kids when I thought we would have none at one point.

A house that not only holds up a roof to keep me warm but that is super cute.

Coffee around every corner.

Writing. I am so thankful for writing.

Music. It helps me learn. It mellows me. It wakes me up.

It's Thursday. Be thankful. Make a list of what you are thankful for so the waiting isn't quite so rough.

Accountability Is Not For Suckers

The best part about besties is the accountability. I love love LOVE that when I am going through something, or need some motivation, my besties call on me or text me up to see how it's going. Well, I am looking to all of you to hold me accountable. This place is gonna track my progress (and no doubt some set backs), but I'm agonna run.

There, I said it. I put it out there in the blog world that this girl is gonna run.

I have a neighbor who is in the same boat as me: too many donuts, too little veggies, and families that need. But we have both come to a point where we are believing that God wants us to take care of our bodies. This temple will never shine, but dang it, I am going to spruce it to the best of my abilities. So, we are looking at a race in Boise that is sure to give us a fun goal and fancy environment to run our little booties (soon to be little) off. Baby fat, they time has cometh. We have the app, we have the shoes, and we have the chubby middles that must GO! I don't need a bikini body. I need thighs that are silent instead of chiming in every time I sit down on the couch in a skirt.
For those of you with whom this may strike a similar chord, I invite you to join me. Meet back here regularly for weekly training schedules, tips and to-dos along the way, and a few great recipes to replace those well-out-of-your-calorie-range meals.
Did I lose you at "weekly training schedules"? Do not fret, friend. Here are your baby steps for days 1-3; I KNOW you can do this! So does Rob:

Week one (This schedule will run slightly behind my own):

Weekly Goal

Drink your allotted water for each day

•  Drink half your body weight in ounces (ex. 100 lb person drinks 50 ounces of water each day)

Day 1

Take a 30 minute speed walk; don't be wimpy. Move that hiney.

Measure your target areas and record the results

• bicep
• chest
• middle waist
• low waist (pooch and love handles)
• hips
• thigh

Day 2

Put it in writing

• What do you hope to accomplish? What are your goals? What size do you want to be? Why are you doing this? Think on these questions and more, and write down your findings.

30 minute speed walk

10 minute stretch (whole body, but focus on legs especially)

Day 3

30 minute walk

10 minute stretch

Day 4 OFF

Day 5

One hour Dailey Method (or other high intensity workout)

Day 1 of Running App (two miles at a jog/walk combo)

Begin taking vitamin D daily

Day 6 OFF

Well played. This schedule began on Tuesday for me because of our weekend out of town. This gave me Friday and Sunday as my days off. Tweak this to meet your schedule best. Happy following! I would love to hear from any of you about what you are doing to be healthy these days.

Reminisce

Sometimes looking at our past is important. Sometimes it is just out right hilarious. This is the latter. Reminisce with me, won't you? The following story is not a test or piece of fiction. The following story is #111 why we should have our own show. 

as promised, the grocery store

::flasback segment::
Layla Grace-6 monthish
Eli-18months-ish
Isabelle-4 ish
me-the day I turned gray
It's a day like any other. We have errands to run. One including the grocery store. We stroll into Albertson's. Oh so unsuspecting. I have Eli and Layla squeeezed into the front seat normally meant for one. They are rigged, two legs in one hole and a baby blanket wedged to one side. Isabelle is walking. I have my calculator, my list, and we are all set with goodies from the cold drink aisle. I do the usual patrolling. "don't take that off the shelf." "don't lick the cart." stuff like that.

About an hour or more into it we are in the home stretch with only about three aisles to go. I am at the butcher counter getting steaks for dinner. Ah the good wife. ::pat pat pat:: then suddenly out of my apron wearing day dream I notice a cold something or other ::drip drip drop::

what is that?
 :drip: I bend to see milk splattering under my cart.
:drop: quite a bit of it.
"What? How did that happen?" ::drip drop::
"Elijah, what did you do?" and this is where, if he could speak, he would tell me he ate through the carton- right through the plastic.
Good grief. What a mess.
I wiggle closer to the lobster tank where they provide you with free paper towels... for the dive I suppose. As it turns out they are equally handy for almost-two-year-olds.

So I get my steaks and turn around just in time to notice Layla Grace has gnawed herself a little snack. This one is made of a different variety. Same animal- this time it is raw hamburger.
(Yep, you heard me)
Through my disgust and her tears, I manage to dig as much as possible out of her mouth, left wondering how much she actually ate. ew.
I notice a convenient trash can next to me and deposit the remnants of her snack into the can, and just as I do, my hand gets snagged on the lid. It is one of those big metal cans with the teeter tottery lids.

Life is now in slow motion. teeter, totter, teeeeetter, toooooottterrr.
The kids are crying, the butcher woman is agasp, chest heaving, and my eyes are wide as the trash can lid flies up up up into the air.

I am spider man as i look around me, taking it all in.
And then, the display catches my eye. I hadn't noticed you before. I make a mental registry of everything as it all comes crashing to the ground.

No. not paper towels, that would be easy. I see can openers, corkscrews, wire baskets, salt and pepper shakers, thermometers, anything metal a grocery store would carry. Yes, it is all on this very special metal itself, display. It too is on the floor.
You know what always amazes me? How everything gets so quiet when a terribly loud noise happens.)
Isabelle is the first to speak...and I quote "NO WAY THAT JUST HAPPENED!"
I am still too shocked to say anything. Still silence.

The butcher lady comes close and says, "Just go, honey. I will take care of everything."
So I unloaded my children, and we left the grocery store.

And in my best Alex Trebek voice:
"Why don't the Brewer kids go to the grocery store?"

So, if you know of a guy who is looking to take a chance on a new reality TV show families every where will love, send him our way. This is a fairly typical afternoon of nonsense around here.

Snarky Ain't All It's Cracked Up to Be

This is our squirrel. Well, that isn't her actual name, but it has been her label since our older daughter used her lisp to call this little one a crazy girl. It came out more like, "Crazy Squirrel." She was only a year old then. She is seven and still Squirrel.
This face is commonly found on her face. It means many things, and my husband can regularly be found trying to decipher it through loving conversation only a Daddy can deliver. He has grotesque patience. He could out meditate Ghandi. I mean it. Don't even bother with a staring contest.
I do not recollect what these two were talking about when I took this picture (it's easy to get distracted when I see my husband being delicious and a dad- I am human). Squirrel's face could mean any of the following depending on the day:

• This place is a tomb and I want to go to the nut shop where it's fun, or
• This guy has been disciplining me for three minutes too long, and I stopped listening six minutes ago, or
• I will not be appreciated until I am dead; you people don't deserve me, or
• Leaning against this counter isn't hard; I do it all the time, see?

When she was a smirk older than one, she could make you feel inferior. It's not a learned behavior, and I can't quite decide if this could somehow be considered her ministry or just rude.She could make Tony Robbins feel insecure. She is still honing her sarcasm, but the fact that she spent five minutes trying to convince her older siblings that the Indian man at the airport was my father (we are Lebanese), tells me she has real untapped potential. I DO know that I love being this girl's mamma.

Mug Swap

Sometimes you find people randomly in your life, so you KNOW God wanted you to know them. I have recently made a friend on Instagram. I love that app. I love watching my New Zealand friend's pregnant belly grow. I love seeing what my Florida chef friend made for breakfast because it's not eggs with her, it's artwork. I love that I get to share pictures of my kids with my dad even though he is techno-slow. But today I mostly love that my new friend Rachel and I met because God wanted me to know people out there get me.
Since moving here, I have had my doubts that I will ever have a friend. I have an unbelievable group of girls Here, Here, and Here, plus some other girls who don't keep or update their blogs. WHA!? I know. Maybe I don't totally get them. HA.
So, in honor of awesome bloggers, of women, of meeting new friends across the country only to find you look similar, act similar, and make mock of others similarly, I am participating in the Mug Swap. Bonn Bonn is hosting a coffee mug swap that will connect you with a possible kindred spirit- aka someone else who would wound others for coffee if it came down to it. Come on! Take a chance and click

Coffee Is My Manna

OK, so I know that coffee isn't really what sustains me. But, I will tell you what- I SURE LOVE IT.

I understand Lorelai's outstretched arms. That face in return is because Luke (or whoever I am speaking to at the moment) knows I am downplaying how much coffee I have consumed. I use every ounce of will power to stop at one cup of coffee. And, because my will power ounces equal around 6, I usually have my second cup on the way to work. This morning, for instance, I was served one cup in bed, and I followed it up with two more cups at IHOP. I was so tempted to go for cup number four, but I didn't ask for decaf, and I was concerned my heart or my kidneys or my bladder would explode.

Do not worry; I am alright- organs in tact.

This sums up my feelings nicely. My Mother's Day was excellently full of laying in the grass, gardening, breakfast out, coffee in bed, and some of the BEST homemade presents a mamma could ask for. But what I really want about now is a steamy, snuggly cuppa Joe.

Dear Clutter, Get Out

I don't know where it comes from, clutter. My counters are a jungle of papers and hair bands and dishes and other tom foolery. I had a day off because my boy has a cough due to cold. I did a little research and found this lady and her list of how to have a more organized home in four weeks. Yes please. That's an excellent way to kick off the summer if you ask me.

I tackled an entire week of her list in one day. I realize she is going for routine, but since I still have a week of work days left, I figure I should give our house a boost and work on routine later. This counter just looked so pretty I had to photograph her.

Then I scrolled down and realized one of my first chores was to clean out my fridge. SHEESH! I knew this was going to be an event. I do not at all understand what is happening in my refrigerator. Chaos.

I grabbed my baking soda and my old Pampered Chef quick stir pitcher. This pitcher is perfect for cleaning because I can throw in my gallon of water and my 1/4 cup of baking soda and mix it all easily without dirtying up a spoon. I emptied, I scrubbed, I soaked my shelves in the bathtub.

I even grabbed my Pampered Chef stoneware scraper to handle that beastly stuck on foods. Brilliant inventions. I use them to scrape my counters, fold papers properly, and get in the seams of hard to clean areas. I was rewarded with this beauty.

Furthermore, I threw down a challenge to myself to find 50 items to get rid of. Money Saving Mom says seven a day. FlyLady says 27 every week. I went crazy and said 50. I ended up chucking or donating 120 items.
Dear Clutter, Get Out

Pardon Our Dust

I am rearranging, but now I have to go to a meeting. I girl's gotta make some money. Be back soon.

A Chicken Decision

Sometimes My Husband gets an idea in his head to build a little box for a chicken or two.

Then instead he builds a chicken palace big enough for the Capulets and the Montagues and all their servants and all their servants' chickens.

This is one of those times. And, do you know what I have to say about that? SHE'S A BEAUT CLARK!! I love it. Seriously, I want to get my pillow and my blanket and snuggle up in that there castle before the real characters arrive: Stella, Stanley, and Fredword. Hopefully you will see these guys soon. We opted to wait until we return from our graduation trip before we bring those new babies home.

Prayers for Persevering

Persevering. It's almost an offensive word for people who are stuck in the middle of it. This is an excerpt of my prayer journal recently. I was feeling frustrated that we haven't adopted some babes. I really want to adopt some babes. I really think God wants us to adopt some babes. My children are completely offended that we haven't adopted some babes. My husband thinks we already have a lot of children. :/ God's witty comebacks are in parenthesis:
Lord, diligence and I do not move in similar circles, but I know you can change this. (You are practicing diligence).
Thank you, I get caught up. I feel like this adoption road has no end. (I see it.)
Is it good? The road, I mean. Is it happy at the end? (Of course it is. I made it).
Thank you. (Welcome. I love you.)
I love you more (Not possible).
Yeah, you always win at that one. amen

Saddest Rodeo Cowboy in the Circuit

Melancholy Cowboy

That Sam I Am. That Sam I Am. Who doesn't like green eggs and ham? Only people who are too nervous to try it. I do not know what it is about this little boy of mine, but he sure gets the melancholy mumps on a regular basis. He is sad in this picture because I won't let him carry a woman's purse. Poor kid. He doesn't know all I do for his own good. To his future wife- you're welcome.

Our Life In Pictures

Bring It

 So, we are Idahoans now. No, that isn't really a word, and frankly it could be taken the wrong way if you are a girl attempting to over come a reputation. Luckily, I like my saucy reputation. I have worked hard to spread that rumor. OK, I haven't a saucy rep. Sigh. I am just a girl who followed her man to Idaho when he asked her to. ::blush:: He is way worth it. So, we packed up our hooligans and hit the road. We landed in a rental, and we camped for about eight months before we decided to make this place a little more us. It's funny how God answers those little prayers, and then he gives a husband and wife the same ideas without them even really speaking about it. I kinda wanted to garden. My husband said, "hey, when are you going to get a garden going?" sweet. So we started chatting, and did what all laborers do; we went into the backyard and stared at our work space for a while.

The difference between most construction workers and my husband is the staring leads to a new fence, a rock framed garden area, and a tilled ground. Oh how I love that man of mine. We are planting red and yellow onions, sunflowers, potatoes, carrots, zucchini, yellow peppers, green peppers, jalapenos, corn, strawberries, wild flowers, yellow squash, pumpkins, green beans, cantaloupe, watermelons, and a plethora of herbs. And of course, do you know who we ran into at the local Zamzow (it's a garden store; no, I couldn't possibly make up hillbilly names like that)? Baby chicks who want to call me mamma. We are getting two of them. The Man is working at getting his chicken coop skilled under control. The adoption should be final in a few weeks. Of course that only gives us about 14 eggs a week, which is one breakfast for my family, so there is a good chance we will go back for one more little guy once we settle in the first two. I have my names picked out for the twins, but I am opening up the polls for baby chicken number three.

In the meantime, I need to go buy some new work boots; these snow boots just aren't giving me the farm girl look I am after.

Sometimes My Parenting Surprises Even Me

We have friends in town. You know the kind: besties that blur the line between family and friend for so long you forget you aren't REALLY related. They live further away these days, but it isn't their fault. We keep moving north. There is a slight chance we will end up right back where we started as their neighbor if we keep up this crazy pattern. At least we can grab a little Canadian chocolate on our way. Do not fret. We will share. I mean, I won't but I have trained my kids to do as I say and not as I do. I will be in the corner shoveling Coffee Crisps. Sorry for that Canadian tangent. I blame Erin Reed for ever introducing me to that sweet delectable goodness.
Our besties- anyhoo, our spring break was last week, and their spring break is this week. The kids have had to wake early and toddle off to school most of the mornings while their cousins vegged out and went exploring. Last night I got the brilliant idea to let them all stay home, and I even planned to ditch work this morning. This morning, I remembered I am getting six new students today. (To my teacher followers- no. I am not kidding.) Kids can stay home. Crud. Izzy has track. OK. The rest of the kids can stay home. CRAP. Elijah and Layla Grace are touring the middle school on a field trip.
We pull up to the school. Click. Click. Seat belts come out. "Addison, you can stay home honey. You two have fun at your field trip, and I will pick you up early."
"WHAT!! WHY WHA!!! THIS IS SO UNFAIR! OH THE INJUSTICE OF IT ALL!!"
"K. Love you."
Addison sits smugly.

Constant Reminders That He is God and I am Not

Sometimes I get discouraged when I feel God lighting up a path in my life that stays dark for the people around me. I get excited. Thrilled. Anxious. Impatient. Frustrated. Because I am raising my hand, jumping up and down saying, "PICK ME! PICK ME!" But God isn't calling on me to move just yet. Not in the obvious ways anyway. This video made me cry. A lot. But in the end I feel the hope, and I feel encouraged to continue to wait on the Lord for what he will do in the ole Brewer household. I want to serve God. I want to love God. I need to love others.
   

Thanks Farmer's Wife

Why I like Mike #30

He wants to stay married to me after 16 years. There is a really good chance that when we were married 16 years ago yesterday, he thought our lives would be very different than they are now. There are probably even times when he looked at me with really big eyes behind my bag and pretended to strangle me while thinking, "WHAT did I get myself inTO?!!" But more often than all of those times, he has loved me. And he is very good at loving me. He handles my habits and my irritations and not so pleasant qualities. And at the end of the day, he hugs me. I like that about this guy. I like a lot about this guy. I am very excited for another 16 years and then some.
Here's lookin at you kid.
Here's mud in your eye.
Here's to us.
I love you.

Bob Wiley (AKA the smartest man in movie history)

The makers of What About Bob are the creative geniuses of the century. No movie equals the brilliance and comedy that made Bob Wiley the smartest man in movie history. I try to take his advice as regularly as possible. If it has been more than a year since you have watched this movie, remedy this faux pas immediately. The following lines justify why one should watch this movie with regularity:
Bob: I said good morning GILL.

Wing the Bus Driver: Bob, I have a baby schedule to keep, Bob.
Bob: I know that, Wing.

Ziggy: We are going to die. We are ALL going to die.

Faye: Leo?! What about BOB?

Bob: Can I get a bowl or something?! He has been in here all day, and if I don't let him out he is going to scream!

Bob: There are two kinds of people in the world: those who love Neil Diamond, and those who don't. My ex-wife adored him.

Watch it. do it.

Meet Dan

 I have a knew vision of what God is asking of our family. That is not to say the things that have not come to pass are forgotten or cast aside. In fact, the new will only bring our family closer together, and my prayer is that each of my children will remember these coming years forever. Family ministry- I highly recommend it. Whether you have one kid or eleven, find a ministry that glorifies God with your time, money, heart, prayers.

When I was a kid, my mother brought us to food pantries to volunteer, my father took us every year to Child Haven (a home for abused children) to spend time with kids and sing along to his hippy guitar, and our youth leaders scheduled monthly outreaches so we were constantly giving giving giving. I thought that's how all Christians lived.

I am shocked with the complacency that has crept into our culture. "I am just so busy." With what? Honoring God? Raising kids? My answer to these questions is always no. Not that I am dishonoring God intentionally, but if I am not living FOR God with intention, I am choosing that other guy, and well. He is an idiot.

So, I have to ask, are you following God or are you in the idiot parade. If you aren't sure, JUMP to the right, cause chances are you aren't quite where God wants you.
This guy, Dan, on the other hand. I want to be him when I grow up. (And the way my mustache is changing with age, I may ACTUALLY BE this man when I grow up.)

http://www.wimp.com/gooddan/

Diligence

Diligence has never been my strongest attribute. I try to focus on the spirit of procrastination rather than the spirit of self control (which leads to accomplishing instead of staying up all hours watching Friends). I find myself being challenged in nearly all areas of my life with this funny D word.

• We are rounding the end of the school year, and as much as I would LOVE to have a paycheck all summer, I am really looking forward to a break from my work responsibilities. Really, I would just like a change of pace. I enjoy routine, but too little change can lead to monotony. I need to be diligent.

• I am week two into a 6 week Bible study. Week one I was gang-busters out the gate. This week's focus is counter intuitive to my learning style, so the challenge is greater. Last week, I diagrammed verses from the Bible for more clarity. Easy as pie (whatever that means). But I loved it. Like I love pie, so I guess it's a good metaphor after all. This week, we are supposed to picture the scene, picture ourselves there, and put ourselves into the shoes of each character of various parables. My ADD kicks in and my mind wanders. Can't I just read it and then write about it? Can't I just talk it over with someone? Can't I just fill out a worksheet or something? Can't I... Can't I....? Fine. I need to be diligent.

• We have begun the overwhelming (and not going well) journey of a debt free life. I am super uncomfortable, I feel like washing my hands of all of it, and God is opening my eyes to what His word says about the whole thing. So, of course, now I am feeling conviction and the need for repenting. To top it off, we are the poorest we have been in well over a decade, only this time we have all these short people to consider. I am aggravated, and honestly, I find myself mulling over the idea that God could be doing more. Clearly He has done enough. Clearly I am feeling sorry for myself. Clearly I do not know God well enough. Clearly my angry eyebrows are blocking my vision. I need to be diligent.

• I know God has called me to be a writer. He has dropped a bundle of words in my lap and is asking me to arrange them between a front and back cover. I now have to find the brawniness to pull up my bootstraps bootstraps and keep writing. I have much to say, but I am trying to disregard all that and focus only on what God wants to say through me. But, along with my hair, my head is very not small. I am a large opponent to myself, so it takes a while to settle in and fight myself down so I can hear what needs to be heard. I need to be diligent.

Can You Tell Me Why

• every time I log on to Firefox it wants to update me, even if I have in fact only updated minutes before signing in?
• mice want to eat through my wall, literally, eat through my wall?
• I can't grasp being content like Paul?
• I suffer from allergies on snowy days?
• teenagers must fight against showering?
• I make plans to work out, but instead of seizing the moment, I wait, and then sleep on my couch instead?
• some people do not laugh at The Breakfast Club?
• we do not have our own television show?

You Are The Music In Me

Bible learning I can grasp. I love this song. Don't forget to pause the music over there. See me pointing?

Hilarious

Watch this.

Back to the Living

I have been sick for EVER. OK not forever, and I know there are people who really have been sick their whole lives, so I shouldn't complain. But MAN, when a family depends on their mamma the way my big family depends on a girl like me, being sick can really change the mood.

I have noticed a lack of happiness, laughter, and kindness. I no longer want to fall asleep on the couch and pretend not to hear. Now that I am on the mend, it's time to get back to my typical in your face approach to parenting. Sometimes this looks like a stern warning. Other times it looks like an impromptu musical. Always though, it looks like taking account for ones actions.

You break it, you buy it. You spill it, you clean it. You take it out, you put it away. You hurt it, you mend it. You complain about it, you come up with a better solution. Today, I spent my time paying attention to the tones and words and under current of grumpiness in each of us. Then, I used proximity and the previously mentioned in your face approach to nip those attitudes in their buds. Finally, I realized I am exhausted because parenting is a lot of freaking work. In the eloquent words of those WipeOut hosts, "Good night, and big balls."

Ode

I realize heroes usually posses stellar qualities in several areas of their lives, but I don't hesitate to say Whitney Houston was one of my life long heroes. She gave me a voice to sing, and stage moves to practice. I loved her. My heart is very sad that she has died. Her rendition of The Star Spangled Banner is by FAR the BEST performance ever. They used to play it before every movie played on the military base, and I cry no matter how many times I see it. I miss her already.

The Truth Is

I have been too sick to focus on creating a blog.

I have eaten more sugar this week than I wanted.

I have guilt over several favors or responsibilities I am supposed to be attending to.

I am feeling slightly overstretched, so I am reverting to my old tactic of ignoring everything.

We need the money, so my schedule can't really change.

I wish my husband's love language was quality time; he would feel a lot more loved these past several weeks I spent coughing on my couch.

I hate how much I am missing my kids.

I am not scared that my daughter will be in high school next year; she is amazing, and God has big plans for her.

I wish I could take a vacation from my problems. With my husband. and my kids. and a nanny.

Madonna's half time show scared me until the final song.

I too would like to experience a gospel choir back me as I sing.

I like that Sam randomly breaks into versions of Flag of America, a song he learned from Ms. Jessica, his preschool teacher.

I wish the Super Bowl commercials were funnier this year.

I wish I could afford to send Samuel to his kindergarten full-time, which is really only part-time, but it's everyday.

I wish I had an office in which I could work on my book and hang up my research.

I would probably be lonely as my love language IS in fact quality time.

Reasons v Excuses

There are 163,000,000 reasons to follow what God asks of you. You can make a tiny step, or you can make a big step. Either way, you will make a difference. Click to watch this video.

A Little Fresh Air

Many things make me feel like I just got a dose of fresh air: A real conversation with someone at our new church, the promise of future conversations, the pastor promising me an interview FOR THE BOOK, God's presence in worship, God's presence in the teaching, and in fact, fresh air.
We got home from church and pulled everything edible out of our fridge. It was a quick process. We chowed down a weird smorgasbord of lunch, and then I announced, "I need some fresh air." Only no one was around to hear me. So I told my husband I needed to get out of the house and promptly made a list of things I could do. I am not sure what his brain was thinking, but his face was saying, "Didn't you just get IN the house? You were out. And then you came in. And now you want to go out...." His mouth said sure, and then he said something like, "Eli, come and watch this football game with me. What? Son, what are you doing? Stop sewing and watch this game with me." Then he sighed inwardly. Poor guy.

Slacker

I talked to a friend yesterday. Her name rhymes with Sharon. I call her that behind her back. (That's a lie; I call her Schrute). Anyhoo, she mentioned a call God has spoken to her regularly for several years that she wants to be more aggressive about living out. Frankly, I already think she is pretty awesome, and has probably let more of this calling in than she realizes. But, this got me thinking; this morning I was reminded of a project God placed in my mind, soul, heart, gut, and my lap. He probably even tied it via little strings to my ankles, but I have been running 50 miles an hour like Phoebe Buffay, so I have not noticed.
Several years ago, God said, "Hey, write this book."
Because I am a project planner, I set up files in my computer. I did research. Lots of it. I sent out surveys to moms. I calculated results. I constantly collect excerpts from writings and label it FOR THE BOOK. I wrote four chapters (mostly all completed). I outlined. I wrote. I read a gazillion books.
Because I am not a project finisher, I have yet to finish.

I had a dream a few years back that I walked into a book store and saw my book for sale on the shelf. I was SO excited! The book looked amazing! Was I really a published author!! For sale in a major bookstore? No, actually. When I turned the book over, some other woman's face was there, having actually listened to God's call, not just planned for it. OUCH. Then we got laid off, and life was in upheaval, and I was in college and couldn't wrap my head around any of it.
So when Schrute brought this up, it stuck with me all the way until this morning's bible study when BAM, God did it again. I am on it. I have no excuses. This is the year. I am going in.

And while this may be the longest post you will ever read on this blog, I am including an excerpt of my book Missionary Mom by Shontell Brewer below.(Dear Lord, please don't let anyone steal my title).

On doing a little research on women who accomplished much and changed the world in some way, I read Gilda Radner's It's Always Something (Radner, G., 1989).

"When I was little, my nurse Dibby's cousin had a dog, just a mutt, and the dog was pregnant. I don't know how long dogs are pregnant, but she was due to have her puppies in about a week. She was out in the yard one day and got in the way of the lawn mower and her two hind legs got cut off. They rushed her to the vet and he said, 'I can sew her up, or you can put her to sleep if you want, but the puppies are okay. She'll be able to deliver the puppies.'

Dibby's cousin said, "Keep her alive."

So the vet sewed up her backside, and over the next week the dog learned to walk.She didn't spend any time worrying, she just learned to walk by taking two steps in the front and flipping up her backside, and then taking two steps and flipping up her backside again. She gave birth to six little puppies, all in perfect health. She nursed them and then weaned them. And when they learned to walk, they all walked like her."

From birth, we are learning from the adults around us, as is human nature. If those leading are too far fetched or cause too much pain, we may look elsewhere. Unfortunately, especially when we are hurting, our judgement is not brilliant. Girls turn to boyfriends, and boys turn to trouble in many varieties. A puppy learns how to walk from his mamma. A child learns to EVERYthing from his mother. So, the next time your bundle of joy throws a tantrum, and you want to chalk it up to human nature, you may want to remind yourself that you are the human Baby is naturally following. And, now you are thinking the "P" word right? But, it's probably the wrong one. 

Think PURPOSE not PRESSURE.

Think OPPORTUNITY not OVERWHELMING.

You may feel as if your children are being pulled in every direction except the right one and that your input is small. Be reassured that God has placed that little bundle in your hands. Not the lady next door who seems to have it all together. Not the pastor whose prayers get heard before yours because he is of the cloth (not something; we all wear cloth). 

Children will mimic your walk, your laugh, your handwriting, your love for your favorite football team, and your stance on organic produce. 

They will also mimic what really matters:

your faith

your peace

your mercy

your grace

your willingness

your love

your joy

your kindness

your patience

your goodness

your gentleness

and your self-control

How do I know? Because the Bible tells me so. Proverbs 22:6 "Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old he will not part from it." (KJV) 

What can you do today to seize the opportunity to be purposeful in your child's life? Sure, you could pack your bags and whisk little Jimmy on the next plane to Africa to be a missionary. But, wouldn't holding the door for the lady with the stroller teach him the same thing? Wouldn't tithing at your church teach him the same thing? Wouldn't stopping your day to pray for someone in need, and then giving whatever you could to help that person do the same thing? If missionaries travel far and wide to show people the love of Jesus, couldn't you just look around and show people the love of Jesus? Who knows; maybe the next time you walk through a door it will be little Jimmy that says, "Here, let me get that for you. My mom taught me this."

Thanks Erin. Click.

Ode

I have a friend named Nat;
she knows just where I'm at.
She laughs at my jokes,
and she gets me my smokes
half price at the corner store.

She gave birth to a girl,
We will call her monkey.
She gave birth to a boy,
a pirate with a pet flea.
Two punks I sure adore.

Now, for the man she loves
those two are turtle doves.
He calls her Hot Toes Nat,
and she calls him Chris Hef
They smooch and smooch galore.

She says the weirdest words
donesky, Clyde, and biscuit,
She'll talk about your mom,
and tell you your da'bomb
and make you laugh til you pee on the floor.
The
End

I Stole This Idea

Love
Not so much

• I love smelly good lotion
• not so much perfume
• I love movies
• not so much overly foul ones
• I love vintage cars
• not so much their willingness to break down so often
• I love coffee
• not so much tea
• I love honey
• not so much the sticky
• I love soup
• not so much red meat
• I love writing for fun
• not so much with a deadline
• I love Friends
• not so much that it's over :(
• I love french fries
• not so much the chubby belly they give me
• I love my iPhone
• not so much the bill that comes with it

Goals: 2012

Well, I didn't finish my post a day as strongly as I wanted, but my cold is hanging on strong. Chiropractor today at three. Praying he makes a difference in my life. I start my second job tomorrow: after school tutoring. I am excited for the difference it will make in our house toward our debt, which brings me to this year's goals.

• As I mentioned, we have gotten our Dave Ramsey on. My brother said I got Dave Ramsey'd. Ouch. and Ew. Gross, Mo. But he is right. We are looking at making a few temporary, but drastic, changes to our finances. That's the number one goal for The Man and I.
• Next for me? I want to focus on Rosalie, my oh so pretty guitar. In six months, I hope to have 3 songs mastered. I have written several worship songs that need to find their way to the proper chords and then to my guitar. Glad George Dahir is coming at the end of the month. He is good at that beeswax.
• In addition to getting over this crapping cold, I plan to train for a 10K. I want a destination spot like Reno or Omaha. Kidding. About the location only. As soon as I can lay prone without coughing, I will start this and hopefully meet my friends at the starting line (those of you reading, I am speaking to you).
• Next fall, my ultimate goal and focus will be securing a full-time teaching position wherever God sees fit to place me. My prayers mention the school I currently work at because I love the people who work there including the principal, and the kids are hilarious. I am shooting for second grade. (Hear that, Jesus? Second grade).
• Quality time: this is my goal in general. I want quality time with my husband. I want quality time with my kids, together and individually. I want quality time with myself, which incidentally leads to quality time with my friends. 
• Finally, I want to be a giver. Randomly. Purposefully. Spontaneously. Contemplatively. I want to out give God. I realize it isn't possible, but it's a good goal. 

What are your goals?

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