Helluva Good French Onion Dip is like crack.

In less than a week...

I will be thirty. Just keeping you up to date.

Favourite Christmas Memories

My husband's cousin's wife posted this question and I wanted to answer it, but I had too many, so I am going to post it here.

Sitting with my siblings on Christmas Eve listening to the songs on the radio and trying to figure out who would sing which part in Silent Night by the Temptations.

When I was little, the little shiver of anticipation when I heard Santa's "Ho Ho Ho" and got up the next morning and saw a HUGE piece of chocolate cake missing. I learned years later it was just my uncle coming over to get a slice (hank of cake more like it) before heading home.

Watching 24 hours of A Christmas Story - This is a recent tradition. (last year, they played it on TBS instead of TNT and I missed it and stumbled upon it the next day by mistake in the last thirty minutes. I was soooooo mad. Even though I like Sinbad as a comedian, I was still pissed at 24 hours of Jingle All The Way)

The Christmas cleanup (another childhood thing). Every Christmas we had to do a big spring cleaning style clean up. If the room wasn't clean, Santa wouldn't visit. So every year, we had to come up with innovative ways to push the trash and toys around the room without actually cleaning up. Christmas cleanup was the best form of waiting-for-christmas-day procrastination ever.

Decorating the Christmas tree - My parents would get a tree either Christmas Eve or the day before. Then we would hurry to decorate the tree. When the house was quiet, I would turn off all the lights and lay on the sofa looking at the tree. I love the peace of Christmas lights. Also, Christmas was the only time I could be in the living room without getting yelled at.

And the number one best Christmas memory is - Every year, we would wake up way to early for Santa. We would walk out into the living room, all the lights would be on, my parents would be in their room (or gone because we wouldn't have dared walk into their rooms when they had the power to send Santa on his way if we weren't good) and there would be nothing. We would go back to bed just knowing Santa had missed us and go back to sleep (one year I cried myself to sleep. I think I was 7). Then we would wake up maybe two hours later and walk out of our room and the house would be dark except for the lights coming from the Christmas tree and we would walk into a room of toys, separated on the sofas by child. {I always had a teddy bear and an easy bake oven. My last Christmas teddy bear, which I still have, was the one I got when I was a senior in highschool. That bear went everywhere with me. } We would be so awed by the difference that we would quietly go to our toys and play with them until the need for batteries on something would force us to wake our parents. Then they would patiently do all the parent things like install batteries, open plastic cases and ooo and aaahh over my easy bake creations. That was always the best, waking up two times and loving that last wake up. I don't think the magic of that has died yet.

So, if you have Christmas memories, please share and my comments box can take what you can dish out.

Funerals

I've always hated funerals. I hate the procession, I hate the way I can't cry like everyone else. I hate the way I'm more interested in what those who come say about the deceased than I am in the words written about them. I don't hate this because there is something wrong with me in it. I hate it because it makes me just a little different from most of the people around me. And as much as I like being different, I don't like being seen as uncaring. I still care what people think about me. A friend of mine died a few months ago and I spent a majority of his funeral writing a short story I entered into a short story contest when I was done. I didn't know where the story would go when I started writing it, but it is being rejected as we speak. I cried tears, real tears, for the person I saw in the picture, but the body in front of me wasn't him and I couldn't mourn that.

What I like are wakes. I like the get together where the people talk about who that person was to them. I like the reminder of life more than the presense of death. I like the life that words give to a person. I like the thoughts, when the person is loved, that move through the minds, the genuine smiles, the moved tears. I love the stories that give credence to a life well lived.

The circumstances of death are not always pleasant. Cancer, AIDS, suicide, murder, old age. The presence of death is always lurking and though I don't dislike him, nor do I fear him, I certainly don't like to be around him. Funerals are like constantly being around him and feeling, even if only for a moment, that he has won. I like wakes because they give you the hope that, despite it all, death never gets to win.

Merry Christmas

My husband hates people (bear with me). Well, he doesn't care if people like him. As a result, he does nothing at all to please others. He is wonderful to me because I am the love of his life. I like people. I want people to like me. I spent the six months we were engaged and the first half of our first year married (one full year) trying to convince people to love my husband as much as I do. He is abrupt and can come off as uncaring. However, anyone who takes the time will realize he's great and he will grow to like them... as long as they are not silly, empty headed twits. You take him as he is or not at all because he's not going to change for you. You can either love him or hate him, but it's completely up to you. When I realized this, I stopped trying to "get" people to like him, just let the chips fall as they may, because if he could handle it, then doggone it, I could too.

God is similar to my husband in some respects. He doesn't care how you view him, though he took the time to write down the type of person he is. He has given you free will and ultimate choice, yet he tells you the end result of those choices. He gives you the option to live your life any way you want... it's just that one way is life and the other way is death. I'm okay with letting God decide which is which. Many people look at God as abrupt and want to dislike him, to doubt that he is any good and to treat him the way they perceive he is treating them. But many who get to know him, who take the time to sort through the lies and their own personal feelings for or against him, find that he is either a kind "master" or a harsh "taskmaker" (or both) and then they choose to follow him anyway. Don't ask me why I did, but it's a long boring story if you do.

As I look at the debate between those who choose to accept Christ, those who accept the Christian religion, those who choose another religion, and those who choose nothing, we truly do see through a glass darkly. All of us are stumbling in the dark towards we don't know what. All of our teaching are clothed in mysteries. How can you be like the water, flowing around the rocks? How can you be totally sold out to Christ? Everything I believe is on faith, backed by my experiences following Christ, my conversations with him, my struggles with him. Now I see through a glass darkly, but then face to face. Then I will know as I am known. I don't need to keep defending God. Take him or leave him as he is. I don't need to keep proving to people how much I love him, how much he is in my life, because the people I need to prove him to, the people I defend him to, are the people who care the least about the actuality of God and are more intent on proving their rightness. If you can read the story of David in the old testament and reconcile his life with what God says of him, then you already know more about God than I can ever explain to you. And you are the kind of person I want to get to know better.

So this is for anyone who has anything to say about either my husband or God, even though you may never read this post. They are both awesome and the best things that have ever happened to me. And I wouldn't have one without the other, nor could I have understood one without the other. And that is the biggest blessing in my life, for which I thank Christ every day.

Yes, I know, strange, but it needed to be said.

In other weird and slightly gross news...

I've had two dreams today about pulling vast quantities of hair out of a cavity in my back tooth. Like, enough hair to wig several people. I remember wondering why there was so much hair. I didn't seem to think it was weird that it was coming out of my tooth. It was like when you pull hair from a drain and theres hair and alot of much with it. In the dream, I think other people want to kill me. I'm not sure if it is because of the hair or before the hair, but if I were them, it would be because of. Well, they wanted to kill someone and I'm not sure why I was with them... but some killing was about to be going on. I just remember the hair. Lots of it. From my tooth. gross.

I wonder what it means.

In other news...

December marks the third year of blogging for me. Shortly before Christmas three years ago, I entered this world of blogging and except for two times (where I moved from blog to blog) I've never regretted it. I appreciate the comments, the times you've made me laugh, making new internet friends and learning about myself and other... myself in relation to others.

I made a remark to someone that 2005 would be the year of me. I've joked about it so much this year and realized how selfish I am. I don't now what 2006 will bring, but I look forward to the adventure. For some reason, I've been thinking that next year will be 2007. I don't know what that means, but I hope I can keep it straight. This year has gone by so fast. It's hard to believe how much has happened in it. My first year of marriage, sending out my first piece of writing, my new position at the milk and cookie store, making new friends (in real life), really being in love through the thick and thin for the first time in my life and how different that feels that anything else I've ever experienced. Even losing relationships (although that was more 2004). This year has been awesome. So good that I'm afraid of the other shoe... you know, the one you're always waiting for to drop. Maybe that will be 2006. Oh, but I've enjoyed this blessing of a year. I hope you have enjoyed your year and if not, I pray next year will be much better.

New Things To Come

I'm in general excitement mode lately. We've been working on something that is exactly what I want to do and all of the sleepiness and tiredness will mean something in the end for all of us. I know I'm being a bit cryptic, but I don't want to say any more until there is more to show.

In writing news, I'm writing more than ever. I will hear back about my short story relatively soon, but I am sure it isn't going to win. That's okay. I will keep writing and entering contests so that eventually, I will get something published. One day, someone will pay me to write and I hope it's next year.

I can't believe it's almost Christmas. It feels like any other month to us, except with more traffic and pretty lights everywhere. We didn't decorate this year because I'm still married to a Scrooge, but it was also a bit of a relief to not decorate AND to not have to get rid of a tree this year. Last year's tree is still rotting in the woods. You know they have those weekends after the new year where you take your tree in to be made into mulch. Well, we missed that weekend and when we carried the tree out into the woods, we looked like we were dumping a body.

I wanted to do a New Year's Eve party, but I can't this year. I have, however, invited my friends to one next year because the conditions for me being able to have a party according to Scrooge will in place. I'm so excited. I don't know how to act. All next year will be party planning for New Year's Eve. I may even be able to have a Christmas party... but I did promise that I would only have one a year.

Right now, I'm just procrastinating. So I will let you continue to surf the internet while I go back to writing.

The Chronicles of Narnia

How can a film be very good and just alright at the same time?

When watching a movie, if the blue (or green) screen is evident, if most of the acting is a bit over the top, if the plot is plodding at points, and if the director didn't take the time to help us see the characters connect while using techniques as if he were just taught them at film school, you could say a movie is just alright.

All this is true about The Chronicles of Narnia. I could hear my husband, who has much production experience, go crazy with muttering everytime the production was less than desired. The technical aspects of the movie are just so-so. He started with Mr. Tumnus' ears and didn't stop until the movie was done. Up until then, he was just bored. While the rest of us gasped a little when we saw poor Tumnus turned to stone, he laughed at the fake stone replication of said Tumnus. I could understand why he laughed, but the point was that he was stone.

But if that same movie, with all its faults, were to make you hold your breath with anticipation when the Pevensie children finally are all in Narnia, shiver to your bones in awe with the first look at Aslan or jump in your seat when he roared, or cry like a baby when you know (because you've read the books many times over) by his look that he has given himself to the White Witch, then I have to say it is a triumph. There were parts from which I expected more, like Aslan's scene at the Stone Table. I wish they had taken the time to show people who hadn't grown up with the books why Susan and Lucy would spend all night crying over a dead lion. But all in all, the moments that moved me in the story are the moments that moved me in the movie.

The best parts of the movie was Lucy and TheWhite Witch. Lucy was adorable, honorable, and made you believe that a rag-tag bunch of kids escaping WWII could really help lead Narnia out of forever winter. The White Witch was evil, to her core. She was so perfectly bad, pretending to be good to poor Edmund so that she could catch all four humans, kill them, and gain true control over Narnia, that you knew it really would take someone like Aslan to set her straight.

"And now a very curious thing happened. None of the children knew who Aslan was any more than you do; but the moment the Beaver had spoken these words everyone felt quite different. Perhaps it has sometimes happened to you in a dream that someone says something which you don't understand but in the dream it feels as if it has some enormous meaning - either a terrifying one which turns the whole dream into a nightmare or else a lovely meaning too lovely to put into words, which makes the dream so beautiful that you remember it all your life and are always wishing you could get into that dream again. It was like that now. At the name of Aslan each one fo the children felt something jump in its inside. Edmund felt a sensation of mysterious horror. Peter felt suddenly brave and adventurous. Susan felt as if some delicious smell or some delightful strain of music had just floated by her. And Lucy got the feeling you have when you wake up in the morning and realize that it is the beginning of the holidays or the beginning of summer." The Chronicle of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe; A Day with the Beavers.

I hadn't heard of The Chronicles of Narnia until I saw a BBC production of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. I loved the story so much, some indefinable quality I don't know, that I immediately went about finding, and reading, all the books. I have looked so forward to seeing Aslan, Aslan done right, that I would forgive this movie anything if only it did him right. It did him right.

Europe in the Spring

I took 25 really hard. It started out well enough with a friend wishing me a happy quarter of a centery, but it seemed to go progressively downhill. Love life, friendships, spiritual journey, all seemed to go down a dirt road. In the middle of a thunderstorm. That threatened to turn into a flood. It was a horrible year. I realized that soon, another milestone year would happen and if time was on my side the same way it had been, it would be coming sooner than I wanted.

I wanted to be prepared for 30. I didn't want to dread it. I was going to be ready, going to blindside old age with preparedness. I was going to go to Europe. I would start saving money, look and listen out for deals, try to figure out the best time to go, the least of the touristy times where things were open, but not alot of people were around. It was a grand plan and I was going to go through with it. Well, once I figured out where I was going to move, and once I changed jobs, and, and, and.... I decided to move to California.

Then, This Girl and The Honey, sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g, first comes love, then comes marriage. That's it. No baby carriage and no Europe. Because in California, I don't find a steady job. I move back home and instead of carrying on footloose and fancy free, I get myself hitched so instead of being married at 33 like I expected, I get married at 28. Instead of going to Europe, I'll almost be 2 years married. Europe never stood a chance against The Honey.

Okay, 30, give me your best shot. I'm ready for you and I've got backup. I do, however, reserve the right to celebrate the Second Annual Twenty-Ninth Birthday.

Procrastinating

Do you remember when you were little and you thought about the year 2000 and how far away it was? I remember when I was 12 years old, I realized that I was 12 years away from the year 2000. Since I don't remember anything until the age of 5 (except for random flashes from the "before time") That time seemed really slow to me. I couldn't imagine getting to 12 years from then and what I would be like. I imagined being old. Then I thought about how I would be even older 6 years later when I reached 30. My friends and I couldn't imagine being thirty, living that long... It's amazing what time is like to a kid compared to an adult.

I'm in my last 20. 29 years, 11 months, and 4 days old. In 27 days, I will require love and lots of it to get me through the day. I may even work so I don't have to think about it. I don't dread it. I look forward to it. I just wish I was going to go to Europe too.

And to The Honey. I'm not your "old lady", I'm your "special ladyfriend".

Getting Old

In less than a month, I will be thirty.

*sigh*

If there is anyone reading who is older than me (and there must be a few) please don't give me your words about me still being young, or that thirty is nothing, or any other platitude that would be designed to make me feel better (or heaven forbid, worse). Let me wallow in my self pity.

Thank you.

I'm trying to figure out what I want for Christmas. I didn't really want anything last year and anything I wanted I got when I asked for it. A new notebook computer from Dell(although I'm definitely getting an iBook for my birthday), as much yarn as I could possibly want, books, magazines, software, etc. So, this year, I'm making a list of things I want so that, should The Honey be at wit's end for what to get for me, he can check here to make sure he's not getting me something totally ridiculous (although I'm pretty sure that's not possible).

The first thing that comes up, especially since I particularly want a Knitting Journal, is yarn and knitting/crocheting accoutrements. I'm making a wish list at my favourite yarn store. The yarn I want to make a sweater with is pretty expensive, but I think that it will be an awesome sweater (if I don't screw it up). I'm working on a sock right now and it's going awesome. I already want to try a sock in a different yarn that will actually match the clothes I work in, but that's neither here nor there. I'm not afraid to wear socks that have nothing to do with the colours I'm presently wearing.

My second thing is something electronic, whether it be a new digital camera or a spiffy cell phone, or a PDA for on the go notebooking. I don't really need any of these things, although getting a new digital camera would be really nice.

My third thing would be magazine subscriptions. I would like the subscriptions to a couple of writing magazines and a couple of knitting magazines. I would also like to join The Knitters Guild of America.

Of course, gift certificates to book type stores wouldn't be snubbed either, or specialty tea from Teavana, which would also be nice.

Finally, I would like a terry cloth type robe and cute little animal slippers, a video or two (the new Sound of Music with all the added features so I would have three copies, Cinderella, Serenity (best movie I've seen this year) or the box set for Firefly. I'm sure there are others, but that's all I can think of right now), maybe a few CDs ( something from Elliot Smith, or The New Pornographers or some bootleg Arcade Fire)

Well, that's all I can think of now. At least it's better than last year, where I just drew a big blank. And that ain't good.

How much is this blog worth?

How long has it been. It feels like much longer than 11 days. I've probably written 4,000 more words for NaNoWriMo since I last wrote, but I've written one and a half scripts for a project that is under way. Maybe if we complete it, you can see what I've been up to.

I have chosen a "winner" for the next plot point contest and I will be posting that part of my story shortly.

I have two short stories in my head right now and I've already started writing one.

I have so many great things going on that I want to tell the world, all 5 of you, through my blog, which is why I love writing this blog, though I choke and don't do it often enough.

So imagine my surprise when I find out:

My blog is worth $0.00.
How much is your blog worth?

So there you have it folks. Words mean nothing. Only links to something substantial does. And I'm okay with that.

Day 15 - Nanowrimo

I just caught up to day 6. I have to come up with characters for something my husband and I are doing with a bunch of people from his job. I am meeting with a class of fifth graders in a few hours and thursday to convince them that writing is more than punctuation and that you can write without the internal editor on (I say, even though I can't stand to see the little red and green lines under my words when I'm writing and when my husband asks me what I think of something he's written, I immediately start doing the grammar check, yet somehow I seem not to be bothered by incorrect words in my own writing {i.e. blogging} - although I'm sure I'll change "graft paper journal" to "graph paper journal" one of these days).

Right now I've been up far too long and the Royal Tenenbaums soundtrack is doing wonders for helping me fall asleep. 3000 word or more tomorrow is my battle cry.

Sockotta

I'm learning to knit socks. I have about an inch of the leg part. I'm knitting on needles so small that sometimes I drop one without knowing it. Completely without knowing this thing is not still between my fingers. They are so small, when someone asked me what I was making and I said, a sock, they said, "Oh, for a baby?" "No. For a full grown adult," I answered. These needles are so small, so pointy that I either want to use them as toothpicks or cross myself and pray that I don't poke an eye out.

I love my yarn shop. When they get a website I'm going to link them. I've been to yarn shops in other towns and another yarn shop in this town and I haven't found a group of women as friendly as I've found at Creative Yarns. Christy Ott helps you so much, even if you didn't buy the yarn from her, which makes you want to buy everything from her. She gave one of the ladies a birthday party today because this lady was turning 40 and her boyfriend of 2 years dumped her out of the blue. She cares about her customers. Right now, she's making wish lists for her customers, so I'm going to get The Honey to go into the yarn shop for some shopping. I hope I get to be with him so that I can see his face. Can you imagine my techno-savvy baby trying to purchase yarns for hand knitting? He's worried about being married to a woman who still has a box of tapes, wait until he sees all the yarns I want. Although there is a graft knitting journal that, if I get it, I can knit him an Apple logo something. I just found out I can felt (knit super big using wool yarn then shrink in the wash with hot water to make it virtually indestructable) an Apple logo notebook computer case. I just may do it if I get an iBook for my birthday.

I am ashamed to say that in the last few days, I've only added several hundred (not thousand) words. I am ashamed to admit that I may not write 50,000 words by the end of the month. I am discouraged and encouraged at the same time. I still want to keep writing what I'm doing, but I am not as committed to making it a novel. I am beginning to get interested in the lives of the people I'm writing about. I want to go into their histories, get to know them like new friends. That's good. But I am discouraged because I didn't make myself sit down and write for an hour or two every day. I know that I can get words flowing at various time (like for blogging or internal lectures aimed at various children acting co-workers) but this has been really hard. I did know this going into it, but I have never wanted to just throw my hands up like I have these last two weeks. I've been so busy, this is the first month in a year that I've gone to bed before 3am and gotten up before 11am on multiple days. It's been good and refreshing, yet I'm not working less (I'm working more) nor do I have less things to do (I'm basically on my 4th short story since starting Nanowrimo), but I've been getting sleep. That's gotta be good. It certainly is an answer to prayer.

When I get a battery for my camera, I will show you the sock. And the eye-stabbing, toothpick knitting needles that daily tax my life. You should pray.

NaNoWriMo Misery

So here I am, trying to write, and by trying to write I mean updating my iPod, adding songs to my song library, looking at old pictures of me and vowing to lose a little more weight, eating Pringles and reading my email. And by reading my email, I mean checking it every 5 seconds to see if someone sent me email. I'm at a little under 6,000 words, which would be good if it were day three, but it is actually day 7, which means I'm 10,000 words behind. WTH??? I think I'm going to be one of those people who just burst into tears randomly as I feel the crushing weight of word count bearing down on me.

So here I am, writing so well for this little blog (how did you like that long, long story of our trip to Miami? Cause the weekend felt as long as that story looks) but I can barely get to the next plot point for my story. Your assignment, dear reader, is to give me the next plot point. I'm not going to tell you what the story is about. I just want you to tell me a good plot point. If I use it, I'll post an excerpt. Thanks for having my back. (I just found out, by looking at the date, that it is really 8 days into it, so I should have 12,000 words by the end of tonight *bursts into hysterical tears*)

Miami Wedding

A friend from college got married this weekend. There were alot of good, funny moments and alot of other moments that are by no means related to good or funny. Yet.

We drove to Miami, Florida at 12:30am Saturday morning and left at 12:30pm Sunday afternoon. The wedding was at 6pm, Saturday. So, we were given a time of 12 hours to drive. That means we would get into Miami around noon on Saturday. That would give us time to rest, shower, and go to the wedding. The groom's mother has a condo in downtown Miami that she let us borrow for the weekend. We didn't have the keys or the room number. We didn't know that his mother was divorced so she was not using her married name. We didn't know where anyone or anything else was. We tried calling the number we had and noone answered. We got into town around 10am and we drove around until 3:30pm before we were in the house. So, that gives us a couple of hours before we had to be at the church. The Honey gets a few minutes of shut eye while I want to clean the road off of me. Let me tell you, a steaming hot shower can cure all ills. I wake the honey up and we try to follow directions we hadn't written down and we were about 20 minutes late to the wedding. We found the church by some strange act of God and sat on the wrong side of the church. We left the church to go to the reception and got there an hour later than it was supposed to start, but by some strange act of God, it didn't start until after we got there.

You know how someone gives you directions with abbreviated names as if you know what they are talking about? Well, let me tell you, Biscayne Blvd and Key Biscayne are not the same thing, even if you are told to follow Biscayne out to a resort, You're supposed to go to the island, Key Biscayne, and follow THAT street to the Ocean Club, not Biscayne Blvd, which only takes you north towards Aventura. Which is neither Miami nor Key Biscayne. Honestly, we spent so much time driving this weekend that when we stopped for food on the way home, The Honey wanted to stay inside because he couldn't stand going back to the car just yet. We spent 35 of the past 48 hours in the car. Driving. Trying to find things. Every bit of our time in Miami was spent trying to find something. The Apple Store, The yarn shop, The groom's mom's house, the church, the reception, the way back to the house, the way we came so that we wouldn't go to other cities. We made so many wrong turns, I think the security people started to communicate to each other about us.

When we were driving, we hated Miami. But when I saw my friend's beautiful, smiling face, when I saw how proud my Cuban mama was (my friend's mom and I adopted each other as family), when I saw people I hadn't seen in forever, I was glad to be there. Wilma did so much damage. The clean up, street closures, street lights that are out... it gives Miami a sort of third world country look that doesn't go well with the sleek building and even sleeker people. People are working overtime to get things back to normal, but, as my Cuban poppa says, "In Miami, when the shelter in your back yard blows down, you just go out and buy a new one." He is just grateful that he was in the US when all this happened. For him, he was out of electricity for 6 days, but some places that experience this kind of devastation, or worse, are out for years. He knows he's fortunate and I was glad to understand that.

The wedding was beautiful and almost completely in Spanish. The priest spoke heavily accented english, so that means the entire service was in Spanish for The Honey. The bride and groom had been dating for 9 years and when the priest heard this, he said, "9 years! This is like marrying a brother and sister!" But it was awesome because it was beautiful and not understanding any of it kept me from tearing up too badly and ruining my eye makeup (which might not have been that great to begin with). We did alot of kneeling and at one point, I got to kiss my husband and shake hands with the people around me. I don't know what that was all about, but we did enjoy the kiss. Every marriage reminds us of ours and makes us feel even more like newlyweds (as opposed to old married people).

The reception was beautiful and I got an awesome picture of my friend dancing and laughing (which, when I post, I will delete everything in these parenthesis and put her picture instead). We had great dinner companions and I felt honoured that though I wasn't a bridesmaid (and I am quite fortunate for that) I was sat at the table with the other bridesmaids (most of whom I knew or had heard of for the last 9 years). We laughed and talked and drank too much champagne (except for The Honey, who had to drive - remember 35 hours driving). We took pictures and ate the most awesome steak with red wine pairing I'd ever had, followed by the best chardonnay with giant prawn pairing. Next came the time of sleep that was the most in our time there (10 hours).

We had to wake up early for the wedding brunch, a smaller, family and close friend affair that I was honoured to be invited to and I got to talk with everyone alot more. It was super hot outside and there was enough damage to know that hurricanes are no respecters of person. With another wedding as our backdrop, we got to celebrate, with mimosas and omelets, the fact that two such good friends were also now husband and wife.

Despite how irritated we got when we couldn't find where we needed to be, The Honey was such a trooper. To get to the wedding, he drove like a bat out of hell. I was holding onto the door for dear life, part scared to death, part proud as hell. The fact that we were late had absolutely nothing to do with his driving. Normally, he drives like an overly cautious mother. Then, he was driving like me in Los Angeles. It was awesome. And when we had driven an hour in the wrong direction, he still turned around and took the exits I told him to take even though at this point, he would rather have gone to IHop and gotten a coffee than drive any further to a wedding reception. He did everything I asked him and then more, and I learned just how much my husband continues to love me.

It was a grueling weekend, it was the best and worst weekend at the same time. The things that were inconvenient were very inconvenient. It was everyone's fault that things were as bad as they were (we could have gotten all info earlier, they could have called back) but everything worked out. (I also remember that she drove the same amount of time for the 15 minutes it took me to get married and I didn't offer anything more than a casual reception that lasted less than two hours. At least she made it two days of activities for our drive). The Bride was beautiful, the Groom was happy, a new life was started and I am more than glad that I was there for it all.

NaNoWriMo

Well, I'm doing it again this year. Trying to write 50,000 words in a month. I'm already behind on my word count and wasting more time by telling you about it. That's okay. I had 631 words when I sat down to write at 2:30am and now I have almost 4000 words, which catches me up for Nov. 2, but puts me 2000 words back for today. Ah well.

Last night, The Honey asked me what I was writing about. I said, "Me. I think that's what all writers do, no matter their characters and situation, it's really just a story about the writer." "When are you going to write about me?" he asked. "You'll be in the story, but the main character is me." "Screw that! I want to be a main character." So he storms off to the computer room. I get up to follow him. He opens his word processor and starts typing: I wanted a story where I was the main character. I thought this would be easy when you're married to a writer, but I guess I was wrong. So I have to write a story about me my own damn self.

As he's writing, he looks back at me. "So, what do I win if I write 50,000 words?" "I don't know." "Who won last year?" he asks. "Everyone who wrote 50,000 words," I say. "What? everybody won?" "Everybody that wrote their 50,000 words." "That's how you treat children! If I don't get something, I'm not doing it." "You get the satisfaction of finishing a big project in a short period of time. That is a prize for a writer." He shakes his head and turns back to the computer. I laugh and go back to procrastinating. He comes out a few minutes later and sadly says, "I'm not doing it anymore. I just wanted to let you know that you were safe."

I love my husband.

Something That Will Make Josh Fuller Sad

My husband, The Honey, decided that he would start blogging again. So he tried to do it through Safari (which is the Mac web browser that he is in love with) but things didn't work. What things? Heck if I know. So he decides to get Firefox again and do it from that browser. But it doesn't work and he remembers he has an old version (this is what I heard, possibly now what he said) so he needs to get the new model of the old version before he can actually use the new version. So he does that. Then he re-types everything that he'd typed earlier, got his pictures, put them in, had the link to his sister's baby website and tried to publish. Blogger was down. He decided that maybe it was a sign. So, as of this posting (at 5:11am and with no attempt to get him to change his mind yet) he will stop blogging forever.

Don't cry, everything works out eventually. And remember, God really does answer prayers.

Blogging

I've been reading my old blogs. Boy, I got overly dramatic sometimes. I guess my writing has its own signature. I was talking about someone I know being a writer and wondering if they could be a better writer than me. The Honey told me that they weren't, and he was very adamant about it. I asked him how he knew they weren't better and he said, "If they were, they would be published." Instead of skewing it the negative way, I took it as a compliment and vowed to start writing. I'm going to do NaNoWriMo again, even though I didn't finish last year. Maybe I can get something started.

I am both excited and dejected about writing. I want to do it. I can feel my fingers itch to type. So why do I delay the ideas that fairly burst in my head? I guess if I had the answer to that question, I would be published.

I Need New Music

Some of you may not know this, but I have a new iPod mini. It is new and old at the same time. I bought it in August, shortly after it was introduced and shortly after that, they stopped making it to make the Nano. It was for The Honey, but it became apparent that 4 GB was too small for his music. So, in a competitive move, I'm trying to find new music so that I have too much music for my Mini. *shakes fist at The Honey's new 60 GB iPod with Video, then cries silently to myself*

Any music suggestions?

Rest In Peace

Rosa Parks died yesterday. My husband said that he could feel his throat close when he read about her death. I know she didn't know how great a fire she would ignite when she decided that she would stay seated for today, thank you very much, but that action rippled through life, through eternity, to very many people. Her life touched mine, tangibly. I feel her touch when I see the Blacks Only and Whites Only signs at the Terminal Station and realize they are an extinct way of living in the south, even if some of the thinking hasn't changed. I felt her touch when my mom would tell me about living in a time when a distinction was always made because of the colour of her skin. I feel her touch when I walk down the street and can hold my husband's hand and noone has the right, or the public backing, to lynch us or ostracize us, or the right to make us feel like loving each other is wrong. I feel her touch because I can look any other human being in the eye and I never have to think that I am inferior. I'm not old enough to remember the boycotting or having to sit in the back of the bus or any of the indignities. They are distant memories that, if perpetrated now, would only be a mark of ignorance. I know that Rosa Parks didn't make all of these changes happen on her own, but she was a damn good spark. Rest in peace, Rosa.

Race For The Cure

Thanks to Kevin, I raised $25 to help fight breast cancer. Next year, I'll start campaigning earlier and I am actually going to try to run the 3 and a half miles. Maybe I'll start asking for money based on time. We'll see. Pork Chop definitely had alot of fun. I didn't let him go to the pancake breakfast because I didn't think I'd enjoy the walk with a belly full of pancake and Pork Chop's a pig when it comes to breakfast (heck, he's a pig when it comes to anything, but I digress). But we do have a few pictures.





Pork Chop is openly confused about what I am planning to do. (That's the knitting and walking part)






You can tell he doesn't think this is going to be a good idea. (You don't have to look so condescending, Pig!)







The first of many ladies Pork Chop met that day. She is walking for her mother, who is a 3 year survivor.







Katie from Mount de Sales, cheering Pork Chop on (I was uncomfortably close to her when I took this picture. Not as uncomfortably as I could have been, but uncomfortably enough.)






Tattnall Cheerleaders holding the Pig. ( I also think someone was pulling his tail - do you see the look on his face? Not his best picture, I tell you)







This is the turn around point, about 2 minutes after our first timing, which put us at about 29 minutes walking. The second timing put us at 49 minutes and we finished at an hour and 1 minute... and 29 seconds.




They both agreed that people should eat mor chikin.







Pork Chop worried needlessly. I didn't fall once (I tripped twice and made one "creative decision" by knitting one line completely opposite of the rest of the work). It is going to be a scarf, one side pink and one side blue. I will post the complete project later. All things started will be donated to Scarves for Cancer organizations.



And last,but not least.....




To: Officer Simpson(The guy on the left.). I only said I wouldn't give it to a newspaper.

I guess this page is a mite safer.

(When I took this picture, I completely didn't see the irony. Neither did they, or they wouldn't have agreed so readily.) These deputies were extremely nice and only yelled at us once to stay within the cone, but we were so tired by this point that we just waved them off and promised to use the picture for blackmail purposes.

All in all, it was a fun two hours even though I got up at 6:30am, left my clutch with my driver's license at home and had to drive back to get it, parked illegally at Kroger and ran into someone who is a really good friend of the family whom I hadn't seen in a long while. She's pleased as punch that I got me a husband and that makes me smile.

For The Fans

If you're a Pork Chop fan, never fear, he will return. Due to oversight by the writer of this site, Pig at Daycare pictures were lost forever. However, I have a few pictures that I will post soon, as well as his adventures at the Race For A Cure 5K run/walk this Saturday, in which we are participating. If you would like to donate, or learn more about it, check me out here. Pork Chop and I are hoping for your support. And if you show up, you will see the bunch of us at Team Creative Yarns knitting and walking... which is a feat, considering I sometimes find it hard to walk and walk at the same time. But it's all for a good cause.

News For A Nerd

My husband is eagerly awaiting the new iPod with video capabilities and because I'd like to think I'm a good wife (as opposed to giving in to cute little puppy dog looks and whining) I helped him get the biggest one. His should be delivered some time this week. But then things like this causes him to salivate even more. He can't wait until Thursday or Friday when he will get to unpack his own iPod.

Church

I miss communion. You know, the grape juice and stale cracker that symbolizes the blood and flesh of Christ. I don't know why I miss it, I'm not even sure of all the symbolism of it. I just know that I feel somehow bereft. I was commenting on Josh Fuller's site (link on side) about church dreams and as I was commenting, I thought about communion and felt a deep longing, like a hunger pang, for communion.

I'm sure it's more than the juice and cracker. It's discourse, study, relationship, ministry that I miss. It's communion with other believers that's not on the job, that's not in an interdenominational study where the ties are only to the materials and not the people (just yet, anyway). BSF will get better, I know. We are studying Genesis, beginnings and many of us are at beginning points. After the first fellowship, when we've gotten to know each other better, we will begin to form attachments, maybe even lasting relationships. But it's not church. We are not guaranteed each other next year. I miss the women from my class last year and I think that the other women feel the same. The one person I talk to is the one person who was in the same class with me. I still sit in the front row during lecture and talk to my favourite person for the last three years in BSF. BJ is an older woman that took on those initials in her latter years. She's so full of life and so caring. I want a church full of her is what I want. I want to be like her to others. I'm not. I am wrapped up in my own little world, in trying to be a different person, in trying to heal myself internally. Self absorbed. I should be more understanding that others are also wrapped up in their own internal healing. There are people who try to reach out to me that I don't accept. It's my fault, not theirs. Like Mr. Fuller said, I'm just rigid in other ways about other things. Maybe one day I can find a place that's rigid in the same way and maybe we won't clash as much.

I do miss taking communion though.

Babies!

No, it's not what you think. I have enough baby love going with these two. I don't need one of my own. But thanks for thinking of me.

Baby Jules and Cam, her big brother (bruva) sleeping like... babies (I thought the baby was supposed to be the one without hair).

Beautiful, sweet Haven Grace who let us hold her without any fuss. I know her mommy's glad she's so sweet.


Baby Jules again. We think she's going to keep the blue eyes. *she's so beautiful!*

Nerd News

I can't end the day (day ending when I fall asleep - and I'm very close to that) without talking about the news of the day.

Apple has unveiled their new iMac, iPod, and iTunes for the world, just in time for the holiday shopping season. You can get a smarter, thinner iMac, a sexier, thinner iPod that holds more than you could ever really need and now runs video with an impressive colour screen and a new iTunes that sells video (music and television shows) for $1.99 each.

The Honey has been waiting anxiously for this news. When I got home from Bible Study Fellowship this morning, I found him up, at the computer. On a normal day, he doesn't stir from bed before 1pm. On a normal day, I am right there with him. Wednesdays are never normal days for me, but today was especially not normal for him. Then he found he had to wait a few hours for 10am PST.

On the way to work, he gets a page from work. "Did you see the news?" his boss asks him. I wonder what's happening because The Honey works for the news. What news should we be seeing. "Yeah" The Honey fires back. I wonder what he hasn't told me. "It's sweet, isn't it?" his boss sounds highly impressed. "The iMac or the iPod?" The Honey asks. "iPod," his boss says. "I haven't had a chance to look at anything else."

So tonight I watch the Steve Job's keynote address. We don't even set aside this much time to listen to the president talk. But we spent some solid time with Jobs tonight as he explained each of the 3 acts of features that made todays "unveiling" something special. I didn't get excited until I saw that they would be selling the old and current seasons of LOST at their iTunes store, today's epidode being ready by tomorrow (Thursday). Then I got excited because the one thing I love, besides God, my husband, writing and coffee, is television. So I guess, in the end, there were enough gadgets in Steve Jobs show to satisfy every nerd in the family. Extended and otherwise.

Movies I've Seen (possible spoilers)

Serenity - Most people say that all space films are really hi-tech westerns. Well, Serenity is a true western set in space, with the Texas accents and everything. Should you see this movie? Yes. For the surprises, the laughs, and most of all, the adventure. I cried a little in this movie. That shouldn't surprise you.

In Her Shoes - I saw the preview to this movie when I watched "Must Love Dogs" (which was cute in its own right). I saw it was based on a book so I went to B&N to buy it. I saw that this woman had other books, so I picked one of each (3) and said I would buy the one that kept me the most interested in the first 2 pages. 30 minutes later, I was heading home with all three books (and a knitting magazine, but that's neither here nor there). In Her Shoes was the worst of the three I read, but it was still a very good book. It is also easy to see why it was made into a movie, of the three. It has the least confusing list of characters and build of action. Past events are talked about and told almost as a separate action to the book, a true Plot B, while the other books have so many characters, so many storylines and the past is so intricately interweaved into the present that to tell the stories the way they are truly meant to be told would either confuse the audience, or couldn't be done. Soooo, the movie, was it good? Yes. I'm a big fan of Toni Collette. It was good to see how she played the Rose Feller character, with a great deal of strength and a lot of self doubt. We get to see her transform in the movie, in a way. We see her go from insecure to confident in herself. Cameron Diaz plays a good Maggie Mae Feller, but the things that helped her move from slacker to responsible in the book don't show up here and, although they try other tactics to get us from these two extremes, they don't do it as well as the book. And the relationship with these two women never grow. Rose still doesn't trust Maggie Mae, but accepts her love and her role as little sister who will always need to be watched. Maggie Mae is okay with that. While not satisfying, it's okay. That being said, the movie was better than the book. *gasp* Can't be! But it is. The movie was clearer in some areas, like why Rose continues to take care of someone who acts like they care one cent about her. I like the idea of Maggie Mae reading to the professor in the hospital and the touches that spark vs. the book's version of her slipping into classes at Princeton. The entire Princeton scenario was awesome in the book, but I understand why it wasn't in the movie. I just wish they'd taken the heart of that scenario and added it into the middle of this movie. I cried like a baby at this movie. You shouldn't be surprised.

The Exorcism of Emily Rose - I love horror movies, but after I watch them, I am usually a bit fearful. To say that Emily Rose is a horror movie is to miss the depth and breadth. It is a courtroom drama where the truth is not on trial. What is on trial is something far more intangible. Faith, demons, possessions, mental disabilities and psychosis, etc. and who has the right to judge them. There are some scare moments. I remember one scene where I jumped, audibly gasped and covered my mouth with my hands. The girl next to me, with whom I'd gone to see the movie, did the exact same thing at the exact same time in the exact same pitch. There were creepy moments where you wanted to have already seen the movie so you would know not to be scared. I really loved this movie. I liked the themes, I like the true lack of a final answer, I liked what this had to say about people and faith and all the ways it looked at the questions it raised. Was it a perfect movie? Not by any stretch of the imagination. But I left the movie more satisfied by the ending than any other movie I'd seen in a while. I didn't cry in this movie, but then, it was a horror, so it shouldn't surprise you.

Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit - I'm a big fan of claymation. I saw The Corpse Bride as well, although I was disappointed to know that some Corpse Bride moments were CGI. Wallace & Gromit, however, did not disappoint. Wallace and Gromit are Anti-Pesto, a humane rabbit catching outfit that keeps rabbits from ruining the vegetables that will compete in the annual Giant Vegetable Competition. A mysterious, vegetable eating giant begins destroying all of their work, so much that the organizer of the Annual Giant Vegetable competition finally decides that maybe the giant must be disposed of non-humanely. I laughed so much at this movie, that I cried. I highly recommend it because you have to see well done clay-animation like you have to see well done CGI. I laughed so hard I cried at this movie.... you get the rest.

The Corpse Bride - Frankly, a disappointment. The acting was bland, not humourous at all. I was intrigued by the almost lack of colour in the living world, and the vibrant colour in the afterworld, but I think that there were too many moments where the thoughts of the director weren't connecting with the editing of the movie. I enjoyed watching the technical aspects of the film, colour, directions, movement, emotions of the characters, etc. but the story left a lot to be desired. I didn't cry at this movie.

So there you have it. Hopefully I will be seeing the delightfully fluffy Just Like Heaven with Reese Witherspoon and Mark Rufalo and Elizabethtown with Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst (I've already teared up at the online trailers) and possibly An Unfinished Life with Robert Redford (because I like Jennifer Lopez as an actress). I'll let you know how that goes.

Cantankerous

I'm nosy. I like to know what's going on. I will question you and question you until I get an answer. I know part of it is the things that lets me interview and even intuit as a mentor, but really, it's just being nosy. The thing that helps others out now is my age and the fact that I don't want to make anyone too uncomfortable.

I am moving, however, uncomfortably close to being a senior citizen when it comes to nosiness. That is, I am really bad about being nosy. I listen to conversations now so easily, I don't even notice that I'm doing so. I am just suddenly aware that I know what's going on at the corner table. My eyes are always scanning a room looking for weird behaviour, and, upon finding it, want to know why the weirdness exists. Oh, I know others do this as well, but it's becoming a problem. If I'm this bad now, what happens when I actually am a senior citizen? When I don't care what others think because I will most likely die tomorrow? When I will just put my nose in other people's business because I'll never know if I don't. I'm afraid. And you should be too.

I do still love you all

This is an update, as opposed to an actual post.

I was thinking about starting my own milk and cookies place in a small town. The only thing I don't like about the idea is moving to the town. Don't get me wrong, I love the town and a church we enjoyed attending is there and family is there, but it's a small town and I think we would get bored with it. I don't know. I talked to my boss here, so if I decided to do it, I know I can get help from him. Also, some equipment he was thinking about buying, he won't, so I could get it for alot less. It's just something to think over. In talking to my boss, I decided that I would rather stay here and see what the future holds. I like where I am. I like the people I work with and am friends with. So we will see. I believe it's up to me.

I submitted a short story to Glimmer Train's short story writing contest. I am very nervous and feel like nothing good will come of it. Then I remember that there is some good. 1) I finished a story and let someone other than my husband read it. 2) I wrote with a deadline and met that deadline. 3) It sparked other ideas, including article ideas. 4) It made me realize that writing is much more important to me than I ever gave it space. So the main reason I've missed writing here is because I've been writing there.

I am the proud new aunt and cousin once removed of two darling baby girls. These two new babies are the most precious babies I've ever seen. We went to Michigan two weekends ago to meet the new family members. They were good babies and let me hold them and kiss their soft, dewy cheeks and smelled good like babies are supposed to. It made me know that one day I wanted babies. But not today. Today, I will enjoy The Honey and make him stay good to his promise: As long as we don't have children, we get to travel. We may never have children. But if we do, I will love them.

I started this year's Bible Study Fellowship, which means more homework and less time to play. But I love it. Anyway, that's all the update for now.

The Chronicles of Narnia

I remember reading the Chronicles of Narnia. I was a tall, lanky kid, more arms and legs than anything else. I was awkward and smart and my glasses were too thick for their own good. I had a bookbag, but I carried everything in my arms and I was the only student allowed to check more than two books out of the school library. I devoured books, but I always returned them the next day, none the worse for wear.

The first time, I only checked out The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, which I watched on PBS the weekend before. I read it through and instantly regretted only checking out the one. I went back the next day and loaded up on the rest of the series and after homework, methodically read through them all into the wee hours of the morning.

I was not a Christian. I had only heard of God in big, blue books that grace dentist and pediatrician offices everywhere. The story that impacted me the most was the story of God telling Abraham to kill Issac. I worried myself silly wondering if God would ever tell my mother to do that to me. I was the first born, after all. I wondered if she would have listened if He did. And despite the ram in the bush, I thought I could not trust God to be good to me. Then I met Aslan. I wondered what God would be like it He were fierce like Aslan, but willing to speak, because I needed to know. I wondered if God could not be safe, like Aslan, but good. I thought, if God were like Aslan, I think I could come to love Him.

Now, as I see the images for the movie that is being made, the fresh, open faces of the innocent children who stumble into the spiritual realm without realizing it, who fight all kinds of evils and live this whole other life that intersects with the real in so many different ways, when I see the face of the King of that world, I can't help but be moved to tears remembering my first encouter with Aslan, with that world and with the possibilities of God. I remember, years later, going to God in tears for a change in my life, a change that I thought only He could make. A whirlwind course through life that has not been safe, but has been good.

So, Chronicles of Narnia, do not disappoint. Paint the truest picture of this beautiful tale. Create rich imageries. And do not skimp on Aslan. He is my favourite part of the tale.

Right Now

I'm eating peanut butter covered waffles in syrup with 2% milk. I thought The Honey was looking at me in awe of the gift that God had given him (me), but in actuality, when I turned iTunes down, he was looking at me in irritation because I was smacking.

When the cat's away...

Charades is a funny game. I believe that, in many ways, it's like playing Jeopardy! at home vs. actually being on the show. When the other team goes, you see things so clearly. Sun... dance... kid... Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid!, but when it's your turn, you don't know why your teammate keeps strapping something over his shoulder, pointing at you, touching his ear (you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear!).

So The Honey and I had a delicious dinner with The Friends number one (being there are two sets of The Friends that we hang out with) and started a game of charades. Couple vs. couple. We lost. So then, we decided to play girls vs. boys. The Honey remarks that it may be unfair to pit two people who have known each other for ten years against two people who have not even known each other a full year. And for a while he was right.

The game was 2-1, them. I pulled one I thought would be easy. The category was Words of Wisdom. The proverb was When The Cat's Away, The Mice Will Play. Their cat, Charlie, was in the room, so that was easy. She started saying things with cat in it, but none of them proverbs. I pantomimed "going away". I knelt on the floor and had my fingers scamper across the hardwood. I stood up and danced. She called out any and everything but proverbs. "Cat!" she said. I waved goodbye. "Cat in the hat! Cat waving! Cats!... Cats going into the computer room! Cats... get out of here!" I pantomime mice. "Crawling on the floor! Cats playing on the floor! Cat scratch the floor! Cat scratch fever!" I dance. "Cat's dance! Lord of the Dance! Do a little dance!" At this point, I break the rules a bit to remind her that the category is words of wisdom. The boys painfully allow this. I wave and leave. She gets up to follow me "away". I get back on the floor. I do the mice, I dance, time is running out, I get back down to do the mice. She yells, "Somebody dances like cat's feet!" and I laugh so hard, because, really, what kind of words of wisdom is that. She eventually got mice, but not the entire proverb before our time was up.

Another time, we are tied 2-2 and it's our time. I'm up. It's a song: The Hokey Pokey. I figure that I would just do the Hokey Pokey. She guessed everything but Hokey Pokey and finally, 30 seconds in, as she's watching me and trying to figure it out, her husband says, "It's the hokey pokey" with such exasperation that I laugh in the middle of turn yourself about. Everytime I remember how he said it, I laugh. "The Hokey Pokey isn't a song." she says. We all start to sing. "Well, remember, I went to religious school. We didn't sing the Hokey Pokey." What's so funny is that she almost always knew what the other team's charade was, except for the Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog one which involved the other guy stabbing my husband with his imaginary bull horns and some tongue flicking - and noone got that one. In the end, the two people who knew each other the least won. It was very satisfying.

Comment Spam

They suck. For two reasons. They get your hopes up, as in "oh my! someone commented!" and they serve no good purpose, as in, "VIAGRA!"

The alternative, having someone type in a bunch of letters for word verification is just irritating for the people who really have something to say.

In other news...

My hair does not like me. It is doing some sort of Dan Rather side sweep thing, which is expressly what I told it not to do. My hair has not liked me for the past few days. Yesterday, it looked like I was wearing a really bad 70's pageboy wig. My hair hates me. I think it is my frequent attempt to tame it with a flat iron. I know, each morning, we are both planning our attacks. It truly stinks that my hair normally wins.

10 years

In my 19th year, I discovered that my father was not the man that reared me. I discovered I would not be able to return to school. I lost my childhood home in a fire. I accepted Christ as my Lord and Saviour. It was not unexpected. I'd been going to church since I was 17. I knew that it made sense. I'd been looking for God since I picked up my first book of "mythology" in the third grade, the Bahgavahdgita. I devoured mythology and I loved bible stories, just not the bible. The bible was a cumbersome tome that stated truths in a way so convoluted, you wondered how anyone could choose it as religion. When I was older, when I started seeing the bible the way the Baptist church taught me to see it, I could sort of make sense of it, better sense than my fellow sunday school classmates.

When I accepted Christ, I couldn't make much better sense of the bible than I could when I was 10. It was almost a year before I didn't dread reading any words and at once, I started on a path different from my contemporaries, because I devoured the old testament and it was probably 3 years before I became as enamoured of the new testament. I especially loved Elijah. I loved the work of God through him, his weakness and his strength. I thought he was funny, a worthy role model for me because he was so strange. I once kept a friend awake and cognizant through a drug overdose (unfortunately, a doctor perscribed one) by telling her the stories of Elijah. I fell in love with Isaiah and Samuel and Daniel and would read these over and over again. Of course, when I read new testament, I gravitated towards Paul, although John was a standout. I was confused by David and he remains, to this day, my biggest example that God doesn't necessarily want what church says He wants from us.

I have been with God for 10 years. It's amazing to me, to look back through my life and see the places where he's touched. I believe some disappointments were scheduled by God into my life for the purpose of making me who I am. I believe some of my failings were to bring me to my knees before Him. I believe that my anger was to show me that I could talk to God in any state, that he would not strike me with lightning for daring to accuse Him of not caring, of not loving, of this all being for nothing. I believe His comfort in those times were purposeful, because I see that comfort extended to others in my testimony, through my words. I have no wisdom but what God has shown me in the life He has let me live. I have no joy but that He has given me the freedom to make choices and He stands behind me through the bad choices as well as the good choices. I knew no love until He showed me His Son and when my little mind had understood all it could, He plucked my husband from his life and dropped him in mine to show me an even more understandable model of His outrageous love. My encouragement is that He is always there, that only my emotions can be far from Him, my feelings can be far from Him, but I never am for He is always with me. He has saved my life and protected me in ways I could not fathom. He has put His angels around me and though I do not see them, I see the results. I would praise God from the heavens, through all joys and tears because He has been good to me. He has not promised ease, and in that, He is clear. I have not had an easy life. I did not come to Him when all was easy. I have suffered ridicule for my stance, I have been misunderstood because of my love, I have been hated when I would not budge, I have been judged for understanding. I also have been wrong, I have been hateful, I have been judgmental, I have not loved. I was not perfected in my salvation, but even in this, I praise God. My humanity still calls to others, to hear what God has done, even if they won't accept, to acknowledge that something happens when I pray, because an answer has always come. God has done this all, the exultation and the heartache and for one end. His glory. I am expendable, but in a good way, because when I am exhausted, then I will be with Him, but while I am here, I will work to exhaustion because God is good. There is so much I have forgotten about His goodness, there is so much I have pushed away because of His care, but I will remember your goodness, oh Lord, and I will sing your praises forever.

Katrina

I not much for watching tragedies on television. It may seem calloused, but I like to wait until it ends to see how it all turns out. I talked to friends who lived in New Orleans who evacuated before the storm and I watched a little bit of new coverage. I would have been fine with all of that, fine to see, when help finally came, what happened. It would have been fine to hear the next week of rescue stories and hear the triumphs and tragedies of finally finding missing families.

What I did not expect was to get mad. Steaming angry is a better way to describe it. I couldn't believe that the people didn't have at least food and water. I mean, they sent in big buses to help people get out until they filled the Houston dome, why couldn't they have sent those same buses with food and water in lieu of taking them away. I know it was scary to have the buses drive off with noone inside because there was no where to take them, but dang, it's worse when you're not even sure who's going to die beside you the next day, hoping it won't be you or your child. It was heart rending watching the condition that everyone was in. And every day in the news, you saw people blaming other people and people trying to cover their butts. You saw the best and worst of humanity.

The other day I was praying about what I could do for the people who so desperately need so much help. I wanted to just cook a bunch of food, put it in containers and drive to New Orleans, to Mississippi and Alabama and pass out food. It couldn't have been impossible, no matter how much we were made to believe it was. But I don't have enough money to do any of that stuff and I felt defeated until I was reminded that, more than anything, prayer works. So I've been praying. For shelter, for relief from the heat, for food and clothes, for diapers and restrooms, for rescue and for finding loved one. I've been praying for those whose properties weren't damaged, that they can go back to houses that haven't been looted, that they will be a shelter to those left behind.

People seem so surprised that people from New Orleans didn't want to leave their houses, their land, everything that was everything to them. I confess, if we had to evacuate, I would easily leave this place with only a twinge of regret to what we have built here. But I also understand the strength of history, how it compels us to preserve it. I would be loathe to leave a home we'd built from scratch, a home we'd lived and loved in for 50 years. That would make me sad. I understand why they don't want to leave. I understand why they should. I pray they will too.

I'm not the only one!

If you think my beanie weenie and white merlot was bad, then check out this guy's fast food wine pairings.

TACO BELL

BURRITO SUPREME

Wine: 2003 Vina MontGras Cabernet Sauvignon Syrah Reserva

Why it works: This blend, which would go nicely with just about any food with a bit of kick, seems especially designed for the spicy grilled smack-in-the-taste-buds that this wrap's hot sauce provides.

Yay for the weirdos. And the people who don't want to cook or go to a restaurant where they will be forced to pay more than $10 for their meal.

Taken (spoilers)

In 2002, Steven Spielberg produced a miniseries for Sci-Fi called Taken. I was so excited, I couldn't wait to see it. And do you know what happened? I missed every episode. I was pissed. I really wanted to see it. I mean, who could do aliens better?

Last week, I found the DVDs at my local Blockbuster. Someone had taken the 2nd disk with 4 hours worth of show on it, but I wanted to watch it anyway. I'm smart, I can figure things out. And I was excited.

I have to say that, although I watched ever DVD I had and cried at the end, it was the most disappointing show I'd ever watched. I probably would not have watch more than the first two shows. It started in the 1940s when a pilot was taken by aliens when his company of planes "crashed". When they were awakened, they were discovered by their allies and taken to safety. The pilot was the only one to survive. he was a fighter. We follow the tales of aliens abducting all the men in his line and each man fights. Also, it is in the 40s that the alien ship crashes into Roswell. So, and alien survives, pretends to be human, makes love to this woman an begats a baby. The guy in the military (he's a bad man) covers it all up, kills to get and keep all the information and marries his wife to force his boss (his wife's father) to give him the alien project. In a nutshell the three families. So, we see the military family be ruthless over the course of the 10 hours, the pilot's family of men fight every alien abduction, and the alien's family just be a bunch of weirdos. I sat through hour after hour of whining, crazy looking carnies, bright lights taking people away and decades passing and then we get to present day.

It is when Dakota Fanning is thrown into the mix that things start to get interesting. The one thing I liked about the writing is that we don't know what the aliens are up to. So when we realize Dakota Fanning (masquerading as Allie) is the end results, we are instantly drawn in to the story because we all want to know one thing: what can she do? Then they try to bore us again, but the one sustaining force is: what can she do? We see her bend time, we see her read minds, we see her project images, thoughts, we see her heal a bullet wound, we see her make everyone lose time as if they were taken. She willing goes to be researched so that she can do something to make them convinced that she was taken by the aliens and they will leave her alone. But the military figures out she pulled the wool over their eyes when she escapes pretending to be the general (or, at least that's the highest title I know, but it may not be his). So they keep tracking her down and there is kind of a man hunt (all of this is surrounded by boring-ness, by the way) by the citizens of the U.S.ofA. and we see that first alien that survived again. His earth name is John and he explains, over the next three hours (after being shot and being old as hold) that he is an alien scientist and he was just doing experiments. You know, pick up the humans, tag them, see how they live in the wild. We see that every day on Animal Planet. And I think, so that's it? You studied humanity in the wild over the course of years, put this little girl together just to study her? That's all I get for 10 hours of my life? I mean, it could have at least been that the earth would implode unless we always had a bispecies entity on the planet, or if they had not bred her through alien abductions, her parents would have never stayed together, sort of an alien eharmony. "We put marriages together based on the implants we painfully put in your head, tracking your every move over decades until we finally find the right one for you." Even though the ending was sad (Dakota Fanning was great) and emotional, it stil wasn't worth the price of admission. The writing bogged me down. Did it win an Emmy for best miniseries because there were no other shows, or because noone had writing as good at Ms. Fanning's acting. Either way, I wish for at least 9 of those hours back including the hours I didn't watch because it was taken.

I have wireless internet at home!

Which means more *not getting anything done* at home. I'm so happy that my sweet, smart, handsome, clever, generous husband agreed that getting a cable modem was where it's at.

Dear A&E

I watched your version of Pride and Prejudice Sunday night. You made me miss the first 7 minutes of the 4400. I love that show. It was a really good show, with just the right twists and turns that made it an enjoyable end to the season, but with just enough questions to have me longing for January. Not only did I miss the first few minutes of one of my favourite shows, but I also decided to watch the season finale of The Dead Zone at a later date. Here's why I chose a video of your program over the right now season finale of a show I enjoy very much.

The characters. I have watched the 1980 BBC only version of this movie, the 1940 version of this move, read the book and am finally seeing your version and I have to say that of them all, even against the Mr. Bennet in my head, you saw him best. He was awesomely sarcastic, condescending and loving. He made me laugh out loud several times. Elizabeth Bennet was perfect. I, at first, thought her too pretty for the part, because she was prettier than her sister (who had something of a superman jaw, which is very disconcerting on a woman). In reality, this did not turn into a problem because her acting, especially her prejudice against Mr. Darcy in believing every bad report of him was so well done, I started taking her side against him. Mr. Darcy was the best part though. In the 1980 version, David Rintoul made him very cold and didn't really make me believe his was struggling with love of Elizabeth. I believed Colin Firth was going to fence his way out of being in love with Elizabeth. There were so many things about the character portrayals that I liked better in this story. Lady Catherine de Bourgh was imminently more watchable although I think that Dame Judi Dench, (who will play Catherine de Bourgh in the 2005 version with Kiera Knightly ) may change my mind. And the vicar, Mr. Collins, made me laugh as well. He was perfect.

I had once thought that The Honey was very like Mr. Darcy on paper. Until I watched the A&E version, I had not seen my husband on screen as clearly as I did with Colin Firth. Unable to stomach Mr. Collins, he just gets up and leaves him talking to himself. Not willing to deal with Caroline Bingley's criticism of Elizabeth, he used well placed put downs, but was not flowery in any sense. He told it like it was and that was sexy. And that's why I like The Honey.

All in all, A&E, I must say that watching the entire 5 hours was a joy. Thank you.

This Girl

New Computer

I did get the new computer and I love it. I sold my old computer to a friend for $50 and her digital camera. I had this crazy rigoramole I did everytime I went online that involved ignoring warnings that popped up, switching users, then ejecting the external wireless card, followed by further ignoring of warnings. I would then be online, ready to surf, but only shortly because if I did too much, everything would slow down.

When my friend took the computer, I walked her through my routine, then had her do it, but told her she could call me anytime. She did the smart thing and called The Geek Squad so that her computer could actually work the way she thought it should and the guy, Mr. Jason she called him, laughed when she told him the routine.

Well, Mr. Jason, I'm glad you could laugh and fix the problem, but I will have you know that, except for 2 weeks before I discovered the secret, I was able to get online every day. So you know what you can do with your laughter? Exactly.

Personality

I took a personality test today here and not really sure how the site worked, I took my outcome and just looked at the strengths. Pumped up and full of myself, I basked in the unintended glory. Suddenly, the thought to go to the weaknesses had me clicking and I walked away deflated. It would be easy for me to become melancholy (the test said I tend to do that) but then I begin thinking about the person I am.

How do you make yourself (or help yourself become, if you will) a better person. Last night, my husband and I were talking about how churched people say, "Jesus is the answer" but even when we have the answer, we seem to keep looking. John the Baptist, with direct vocal confirmation from God, still sent people to make sure Jesus was really the one. I mean, otherwise, he would have to continue being "the voice of one crying out in the wilderness" until the one he was to precede was really here, which meant his imminent death might not be so imminent. My least favourite saying is, "You always find (something) the last place you look". I don't know why this bothers me, but it does. So, out of sheer stubborness, I keep looking after I've found something. Dumb and laughable, but worth it to me. We can come up with intelligent answers as to why we do look after we come to know God, or better yet are known of God, but seeing how we are constantly plagued by lack of trust in anything, even in ourselves, I'm not surprised we mistrust "the answer". Do you remember when you used to do math homework and the odd numbered problems were answered in the back of the book? When you did a problem all the way through and got an answer, you would look in the back and if the answer was different, there was always the thought that, in this case, the book was wrong. I think that's how we look at Christ sometimes. We work so hard to come up with the answer and then when we check "the answer" it's completely different from what we came up with.

So, how do you change? I'm not ignorant of the things I should do. I have a list of them in just about every book of the bible. It's not hard to sort out what I personally should do in the list. Fortunately someone has boiled the answer down to two steps. Love God over everything and love your neighbor as yourself. Or, if you want to be technical, just the simple word Love. That's it. That's hard. I'm hardly a "love your enemy" person. I'm not even a "love your acquaintance" person. But I have come up with a few things that might help me move away from the person I have been to the person I am becoming.

1. Hug more
2. Laugh like I mean it
3. Act like I like people until I actually do.
4. Eventually love them.

I have no problem doing any of these things if I know someone well and like them. I just have a problem being nice to the rest of you. Here's hoping something works.

Act One

Details did an online article about the writing program I'm a part of. They are highlighting the executive program, but it was a job well done. Go check it out.

Have you ever felt there was noone quite like you?

The other day:
"If I only had a picture of you like this right now," the Honey says, only just holding back a laugh.
"What?" I look up at him.
"It would explain so much," he says. I give him the look. The "illuminate me" look. "Right now, you're sitting on the floor in the living room, instead of on the sofa, huddled under a blanket, eating beanie weenie and drinking a glass of wine, all while watching Law and Order: SVU."
"What's wrong with that?" I ask. He just shakes his head and laughs.

Today:
"Are you looking at my socks?" The Honey has been pointedly staring down while we sit at the red light.
"Yes."
"You bought them for me."
"You picked them out." he says, trying to hold back a laugh.
"You knew what you were getting when you offered to buy them."
"Yes," he says, laughing outright now, "I did."

Dear Google,

Everytime I go online, my homepage is YahooSearch. This is not by choice or convenience. My husband is broken-hearted that Yahoo has exceeded you in the search department. Apparently, they search more resources than you do now. So please, Google, man up, because my husband absolutely hates yahoo and I don't want to hear it anymore. Thank you for your time.

Appreciate It,
This Girl.

Writing

I have so many posts sitting in draft hell waiting to be brought to light, that I thought I would throw something up until I can make my thoughts and writing line up. So I have a few questions for my 5 daily readers. So answer...the pressure is on! (Well, it's on me to prove I actually have 5 readers.)

Q: When is a good time for a couple to have children? Please include with your answer whether or not you are married, how many children you have and how long you waited to have children if you have them.

Q: If you are married, do (did) you or your spouse initially want kids?

Q: How much did you (do you plan to) talk about children with your significant other?

Q: What is your favourite colour?

If you do not want to answer in comments just email me with the subject Questionaire

Happy Birthday To My Honey

Here's proving he always gets what he wants. Early even.

Calling my husband out

For my husband's birthday, which is Thursday, I bought him an Apple IPod mini. It was the cute silver model, just like he wanted. I bought it early from the Apple Store because I wanted to get just the right one. I hid it at the milk and cookie shop because if I took it home, he would have found it. One night on our vacation, I found my husband asking me questions while I slept, because I do talk in my sleep. He'd apparently been asking me question for a while and I was awakened by my subconscious because he was asking me if I'd gotten his birthday present already. Pretending to still be asleep, I answered "No." He was disappointed. I was elated. I'd been leading him down false mp3 player trails, pretending that I thought the sony mp3 would be better. I made it through the entire week off with high hopes that I would be able to keep the surprise until Thursday.

Then my husband decided during the middle of The Godfather that he should look through our bank statement. He saw it. He didn't say anything, but I picked it up when he had a question and realized that he was asking about something under the statement about the purchase from Apple. I was soooo mad at him. How is he able to ruin a surprise? He was so excited that I'd gotten it, he wanted me to get it right away so he could charge it and listen to it. So he got his birthday present 5 days early. So, yes, I did surprise him, but I'm more disappointed that I didn't surprise him the way I wanted to. Ah well, happy listening to my baby, right? But you're still a surprise ruiner and it's on the web now.

Anniversary Honeymoon

I'm going to be living it up with the man of my dreams, whom I have been married to for almost one blissfully happy year, despite the hurricanes that heralded our union, the lack of a car, the introduction of Pork Chop, and the fact that we may become Macon lifers. Yay marriage! When I come back, I will update you on Pork Chop's Adventure in Babysitting and being a groomsmaid (me, not Pork Chop), possibly all from a new laptop. All that, plus: Who killed Harry Potter? (It's the Half-Blood Prince).

Prescient

The Honey and I have been looking for a church. We have no idea where to start. We go into it saying we aren't looking for a perfect church, but it feels like the things we are looking for we will never find. We left our old church, not out of dissatisfaction with anything in the church or with any of the people. We loved the church. We found that it was too far away to develop relationships. People enjoyed us being there, tears were shed when we announced our leaving, but we didn't know anyone above a superficial level despite going there for almost 2 years.

So, in a town with more churches per capita than any city in the US, why is it so hard to find a church that is right? We are visiting churches where we know noone, we are visiting churches where we know nearly everyone and we are not enjoying it. We almost left one service because my husband, who is the music nerd, could not stand the praise and worship. (This is a man who identified the notes that Batman played to get into the Batcave and also identified that the notes Christian Bale pressed were not the notes we heard.) We liked the sermon, but the people were cool (in the not cool way). Some people greeted us, but were unsure about how to "meet" us, get to know us, convince us that we were in the right place. What did we do though? Did we try to meet new people, find out what this place was all about? No. The general air was one of, "We got what we came from, now back to our regularly scheduled program."

It's something I've noticed and something I've seen in myself. Lately, I've had alot of time to think about me. Where I am going with my writing, who I am becoming as a Wife to The Honey, how I am growing older, how to be a good manager at the milk and cookie store, etc, I've had too much time centered on me. And really, I want to find a church that suits me, whether it suits anyone else. That's the first obstacle in our finding a good church. Every complaint I could have about the people of any church are the same complaints I could level at myself. It would be okay if I at least loved people, if I could find some part of me that could show compassion, if there were something in me that wanted to reach out to others. It's there, but it feels so small sometimes, I think, "why bother."

The second obstacle is time. 5 days a week, we get up at noon to get ready for our night jobs. We don't get to sleep until after 4am. Saturdays are the same, except for the working part. So when Sunday comes, how the heck are we going to get up to be at church by 10? That's another reason why we were having a hard time going to church 45 minutes away. The Honey was in the praise and worship band, so that meant practice at 9 before service at 10:30... you try getting up at 7 to leave at 8 and get there by 9 when you a) commonly get up at noon b)probably only got 2-3 hours of sleep.

It's very daunting to want so much to be a part of a church, a community, but to feel constantly so different from that community. I find myself having to hold my tongue because Christianity is so political now. The Christian powers that be have given us permission to decide we can tell whether someone is Christian or not and it is based solely on their beliefs and views, not on their heart. The only thing man can't judge is the only thing that is important.

I hope we find a church soon. Sometimes, though, I wonder why it's so important.

least metal moment...

We were watching VH1 last night, watching The Greatest: 40 Least Metal Moments... Riki Rachtman was on, a bitter metalhead who lost his show, doesn't know why, looked better when he had a little bit of weight on him, was once fun, but now... not so much. It was a pretty fun show, seeing some of the silly metal moments from the last 20 or so years... like Bon Scott of AC/DC fame playing the recorder; yes, the 6th grade band instrument, as an adult... that was pretty funny. But I have to say that the show itself put forth a least metal moment. It was Moment #8 - In the top 10 of Metal's least favourite moments is the day Metallica cut their hair. In the late 90s when these guys were well into adulthood, they all cried like babies because the gods of metal cut their hair. And now, more than 5 years later, they are crying about it on public television. So not metal. Guys, suck it up and keep thrashing! Who cares if Metallica cut their hair and made rock/pop music. Are you metal musicians or not? Do you not headbang with the best of them? Quit cryin' like a bunch of babies and get over it. It is not the day that will live in infamy. It's over and done with. There are so many more least metal moments you could have complained about without seeming like whiny babies. Like Velvet Revolver.

PS, I really know nothing about music, except I thought the interviewed were being particularly whiny about Metallica (and Bon Jovi) cutting their hair. And that's not metal.

Bad boy, bad boy, whatcha gonna do....

We had a run in with the police last night.

We left the milk and cookie store after 3am. The Honey had just set the cruise to 5 over the speed limit when lights start flashing behind us. Slightly annoyed, I look behind just as the blue lights start flashing. The Honey does all the right things so that he won't get a gun pulled on him, but I'm just annoyed, especially when Cop #2 starts shining his flashlight in the car on the passenger side. That's right, my side.
"Can you tell me why I'm being pulled over?" asks The Honey.
"Did you guys just leave the Goodwill Drop Box?" Cop #1 asks.
"No, we just left the milk and cookie store." Replies the Honey. Point in fact? I am wearing my uniform, which feels like the only thing I've worn in weeks... except for last Saturday, when I was a groomsmaid. But that's another story.
"Can you open your trunk?" Cop #2 has come around to the driver side. Suddenly Cop #1 exclaims;
"This ain't no Skylark!" Cop #2 looks confused (or at least I think he should, but I get only a glimpse from Cop #1's flashlight beam. "Didn't they say it was a Skylark?" he asks again, his nasal whine and southern accent like something Hollywood would have picked for us. They decide that since the trunk is up, they might as well look innit, right? We're not real sure what they hope to find, but if it's a large toaster, a crock pot or other "couldn't find the store they belong to so they've sat in the trunk for a year" wedding gifts, they're looking in the right place. Cop #1 closes the trunk with a decisive bang while Cop #2 speeds away. We were free to go.

I learned today that it is against the law to take things from the Goodwill Drop Box. You can be fined up to $10,000. I'm glad we didn't take anything from Goodwill.