Friday Fanfare

I know I haven’t been blogging with my usual ferocity lately.

I’ve been absolutely swamped at work and in my personal life. Nothing bad, just a lot going on. I wrote down many gems during Thanksgiving which I definitely plan to blog about later on; it’s just so busy that I don’t know when “later on” is going to be!

Here are a few quickies:

Please pray for my mom and Aunt Jan as they travel home from Kansas City today. They decided to leave one day early to beat the bad weather storm that’s supposed to arrive mid-day Saturday.

Last night, Carleen and I enjoyed dinner and a movie. We saw Enchanted at Showplace 14. I would HIGHLY recommend this movie for “tween” girls. It’s funny, cute, romantic, and not too sugary sweet.

We liked it as adults, and Carleen said she would definitely feel comfortable bringing her kids. Basically Disney makes fun of itself, while putting out a clean, quality movie about a cartoon princess who is thrust into the real world of New York City by an evil queen.

Amy Adams shines in this movie, and boy can she SING! If you are new to Amy Adams, totally check out Junebug, which is where I fell in LOVE with her!

James Marsden plays his dim-bulb yet sweet-as-can-be prince with just the right amount of innocence and charm, and Susan Sarandon is totally believable as the evil queen.

I thought the only sticking point was that the cute Patrick Dempsey looked old and a little haggard through most of the movie. (And we all know he’s NOT either of those tings). Carleen still thought he was cute, but I hearkened back to Jim Belushi in Curly Sue.

Know what I’m talking about?

Either way, this is a safe, clean, and very funny family movie. Three and a half stars!

I’ll be working most of this weekend, but I’m the photographer for a Mrs. Claus Workshop tonight, so that will be a welcome break!

I’ve also got about a week in on the South Beach Diet. My cousin’s wife had all the same infertility problems I do, and her doctor put her on the South Beach Diet. A year later, she got pregnant! It’s supposed to even out your blood sugar, so I’m giving it the old college try.

So far, it’s been pretty easy. I’ve only fallen off the wagon once, and I got right back on. It doesn’t ask for anything unreasonable. Although, I can say the book is right – if you don’t have breads, pastas, rices, cereals, or sweets for a couple of days, the cravings go out the window.

Yesterday, someone handed me a crème-filled doughnut. I thanked them and then gave it away later! Can you believe it?! I didn’t even want it!

I’ll keep you updated. I’m hoping to get some of my Thanksgiving break blogging done this weekend.

Why should you be excited about this?

Because one post will be titled Puffy Coat Goes Shopping (or) Why Everyone in Geneva Thinks I’m a Shoplifter.

Movie Meet Up

Are you tired of:
Working non-stop?

Being at home with the kids?

Your husband being gone all the time?

Not seeing your friends enough?

Not being able to have one moment to yourself?

Now’s the time to enjoy….

Girls Night! Oh, yeah!

It’s that time to enjoy a night out – with the girls – watching a movie – snacking on popcorn – talking – laughing – being yourself with people who love THAT about you!

The Movie Mavens (me and Angie) finally set a date to see August Rush – that sentimental sap-fest you know you’re going to love!

Please feel free to join us – us being me, Angie, and Candice – for a movie meet-up!

It would be great if we blogging friends could go to the movies (except for the one person who voted that he/she doesn’t go to movies).

We’re meeting Monday, December 3, at Showplace 14 in Machesney Park. We’re still waiting on the time, since the showtimes change next week. It will most likely be close to or after 6:00 p.m. Some of us have a 9-5 gig! I’ll keep you updated.

If you think you may go, feel free to leave a comment to let me know to expect you, or you can e-mail me annmarietrotter@hotmail.com.

Hope to see you there!

Collecting Compliments

Nothing lifts your spirits quite like a perfectly placed compliment.

Sometimes, it’s the one thing that makes a gray day great. Whether it’s the person, the circumstance, or the compliment itself, the very act of appreciation and recognition can brighten up anyone’s mood.

Certain compliments also remain with us many years afterwards. We replay them in our minds to give us strength, insight, or renewed courage.

I’d like to ask YOU what compliment you have received that meant a lot to you – one that remains memorable.

If you read my blog but never comment, I’d love to hear from you, too, and this is a perfect topic! What a way to pass around the rainbows and sunshine.

So, of course, this bring us to what compliments mean a lot to me, at least the ones I remember.

“I think you have really great shoulders.”
- Colleen, my cousin (when she was eight, and I was nine)

“You are the most affirmative person I know. When you’re around, I feel proud of myself, like I can do anything.”
- October, my college roommate

“Your mom’s really lucky to have a daughter like you.”
- Uncle Timmy (when I was a bridesmaid in Mom and Gary’s wedding)

This last compliment, by Uncle Timmy, came at the perfect time.

I was running around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to direct the florist, help Mom get ready, and greet arriving guests.

In the back of my head, I was also thinking about how my relationship with my mother was going to change drastically after her wedding. I knew she would always love me, but now there would be someone new in her life taking up all that attention and love previously lavished on me.

I knew I was going to battle with selfishness towards sharing my mom. I had been praying for months that the Lord would help me be godly, caring, and unselfish toward Mom and especially Gary.

And just when I was feeling low, rushed, and a tad-bit unappreciated, Uncle Timmy’s compliment encouraged me.

I knew the Lord was working in my heart, so that I would be thinking of others, and THAT was what Uncle Timmy was noticing (certainly not my still-conflicted heart).

His compliment made me realize how fortunate I was to have such an incredible Mom and how happy I was that she was marrying such a wonderful and godly man as Gary. It helped me get through that day, and I still think of it when I need a little boost.

Now, it’s your turn! What have other people said that picked you up when you needed it, or that one positive comment you still remember to this day?

Tag, you’re it!

Paws for Thanks

I don’t do link lists very often, but there have been SO many interesting posts recently!

Thanksgiving must be stirring up people’s creative juices. Nothing like a murdered bird to start people thinking…oops, my PETA’s showing!

First, though, I want to offer up the story of OUR very own Thanksgiving miracle.

Last night, Brett and I noticed Hannah was really babying her right front paw. I was giving her a bunny massage and every time I got close to that right side, she’d flinch. We got panicky right away, worried about a sprain or a break.

This morning I took her to the vet. I was worried we’d have to fork over our already meager Christmas savings to the vet. But, the vet discovered one of Hannah’s nails had broken off and become lodged in her paw, causing all her pain. Hannah reared back when the vet removed the nail, but then she almost immediately perked up!

The vet decided not to charge us for the nail trim, and only for the office visit. The whole thing cost us less than $40! This was a new vet, and I was really impressed with how well she handled Hannah, how long she spent in the exam room with us, and how resistant she was to giving Hannah any drugs (too many meds put rabbits at risk, health wise).

Other good news is that since Hillcrest opens at 7:00 a.m., I was able to get all this done AND get to work on time.

I also want to offer up props to Hillcrest Animal Hospital! We’ve been to several clinics, and having an “exotic” makes it more difficult to find qualified vets. Hillcrest is “no appointment necessary,” has early morning, late evening, AND weekend hours, as well as an emergency hotline and vet-on-call. The prices at Hillcrest are the BEST we’ve seen, especially for the high-quality of service, both by the vet techs and the vets themselves.

If you’re in the Rockford area and have a pet, regular or exotic, we highly recommend Hillcrest!

That’s our Thanksgiving miracle!

On to the link list!

If you ever called Rockford “home” at one point, you’ll enjoy these fall photographs by Joy.

If you’ve ever felt appreciation for the blessing of water, check out October’s thanksgiving post.

If you’re looking for a healthy, organic dessert for kids, check out my Cousin Aaron’s recent post.

If you’re a mom and wonder if you’re doing okay, read Deborah’s latest poem.

If you’ve Rehfeldt blood in your veins and want to see a photo of Jon’s new girl "friend," check out Mom’s post.

Next post: Thanksgiving!

EEP & NEEP

I am part of an exclusive little group - the Extremely Expressive People.

EEPs, if you will.

We EEPs are often proud of our facial readability. Our faces perform intricate maneuvers which leave little doubt as to what we are really, truly feeling.

The cashier can tell we’re frustrated with how long we had to wait in line by the wrinkle between our eyebrows.

When we are happy, our smiles are so infectious, other people laugh along with us without really knowing why.

Our significant others rarely have to ask if we’re mad, since our pursed lips and narrowed eyes provide an unspoken answer.

Being an EEP can be a nuisance, such as in a business meetings, when any true EEP has to struggle against expression if the boss offers up a suggestion we feel is (as Tob puts it) hogwash.

Other times, it allows us to express what we feel without having to spell everything out.

This brings us to the Not Extremely Expressive People, NEEPs.

NEEPs drive EEPs crazy.

Just tell us what you’re feeling already!

NEEPs are often stone faced, carrying the same expression whether delirious with joy, bloated with boredom, or having their spleens removed with a shrimp fork.

My mother is most definitely a NEEP.

Growing up, I inundated Mom with questions like, “Mommy, why are you so sad?”

She’d look at me in surprise (I think). “Mommy’s not sad.”

“Then why are you frowning?”

“Mommy’s not frowning.”

“Smile, Mommy, smile!”

“Sweetheart, I’m fine. I’m happy!” She’d assure me before turning back to her sewing with the contagious joy of a person headed to the guillotine.

I used to think Mom was the exception to the rule.

At least until I ventured out into the business world, where I found people desired NEEP poker faces as a way to get ahead. In business, it’s considered poor form to be able to read someone’s true motives simply by their face.

And, of course, I married a NEEP.

My husband can experience a full range of emotions without exercising a single facial muscle.

And it really drives me nuts.

Because, you see, we EEPs MUST know how you are feeling RIGHT NOW. And if we can’t, we are forced to take extreme measures.

Every slight movement takes on exaggerated significance to us.

This often happens to me when we are driving somewhere.

As we head down the road, my husband will bite his lip, and I’ll think, “Oh, he’s worrying again. Hmm…maybe about money?”

Then, he’ll rub his bald head, and I’ll think, “Does he know I spent $30 at the movie last night? Is it upsetting him?”

If he merges into another lane, I’ll be sure he’s furious with me.

I’ll begin to get defensive. How dare he get mad about my $30 movie purchase, when I know he spent more than that on his last hunting excursion!

I’ll narrow my eyes and give him the ol’ stink eye. Just who does he think he is, anyway? I work, too, Buster.

I’ll look over at him, chewing his gum slowly, and start to heat up. Just how much did that GUM cost, huh, Bud? What kind of point is he trying make?

By now, my face is screwed up into a complex knot of anger.

Then, he speaks. “You want to grab some lunch, babe?”

And I explode.

“Oh what are you trying to do?! Send us to the poorhouse? Sheesh, it was just ONE movie and some popcorn. Get over it already!”

“What?” His voice sounds confused but that face has yet to twitch.

“Yeah, yeah, you just GO AHEAD and GET lunch, fella.”

I let out my final puff of exasperated air and lean back in my seat.

“Sounds good.” My better half swings into Panera with a deadly calm. Or nonchalance. I can’t really tell.

Curse you, NEEPs!

I guess what I’m trying to say is that, for the sake of us EEPs, could you NEEPs out there give us just the tiniest hint of a clue as to how you’re feeling?

It’s really just takes a little muscle contraction to help us feel like we can read you. To us, it’ll be just as plain as the nose on your face.

Well, if your nose is scrunched up, that is.

The Purple Card Drive

Many of you know about Merissa.

For those of you who don’t, she is my co-worker who was recently stricken with a brain aneurysm and almost died.

As I’ve mentioned before, Merissa is an amazing, sweet, and caring person who has no family to speak of. Merissa has had a difficult life, having experienced homelessness and life on the street first hand. In spite of those grueling beginnings, she’s worked hard to make a life for herself.

Since she is all alone, and we are a non-profit, Merissa lives paycheck to paycheck. This unexpected illness will undoubtedly tax her meager resources.

We, here at the office, are doing everything we can to be Merissa’s family during this difficult time.

Her condition is still critical, but the doctors are positive. My co-worker Jen writes:

I saw Merissa last night (Friday). She was doing very well. The nurse said it will be another week or so before she’s in another room. Please keep sending her cards, so she knows we’re thinking about her. If you want to send her anything, her favorite color is purple. She still can’t have flowers in her room. Anything else with purple, she’ll love!!

As believers, we are told to minister to the orphans, and even though Merissa is 28, she has no one to minister to her.

So, I’m asking you, my blogging friends, to join me in The Purple Card Drive for Merissa. It would mean the world to her to receive notes of encouragement from those of us who care.

Please e-mail me directly for her hospital address at annmarietrotter@hotmail.com.

Consider this one of those things we can do in the temporal world that will matter in eternity.

I hope to hear from you!

The Thunderstorm Twins

This weekend, with both of our husbands off hunting, Mom and I decided to spend the night together.

Can I share a deep, dark secret with you?

I’m 29. A bona fide grown-up. And I still love a sleepover at my mommy’s house.

I can’t help it. There’s just something about being huddled under the covers with Mom - talking about our lives, laughing hysterically, and sharing our dreams that hearkens back to my childhood days.

When I was a little girl, Mom and I would often huddle under the covers of my parents’ bed during a thunderstorm. My dad would be out pacing in the living room, in front of the big picture window, talking about the beauty of thunderstorms.

Dad loved lightning and thunder and would wake from a sound sleep for the opportunity to observe the perfect storm.

Meanwhile, back in my parent’s room, Mom and I would cower under the covers with each thunder boom and flash of lightning.

“I hate thunderstorms,” Mom would confide.

“Me, too!” I’d agree in a whisper, glad my mother’s fear validated my own. The fact we shared the fear made it less scary. Especially if MOM was scared of it.

“Your father is nuts. Standing out there in the living room! With this storm going on!” Mom would shake her head, letting the covers slip for split second.

I’d peek my head out to hear Dad, in the living room, explaining to no one, the beauty of the storm.

I’d slither back under the covers before the lightning could flash again. “Yep. He’s crazy.”

Mom and I would exchange knowing glances and wait for the next big BOOM.

I’ve grown-up since then, but even now I prefer not being alone during a thunderstorm. And somehow, even though thunderstorms still scare me, memories of my childhood experience make me smile. Even through the lightning crashes and thunder booms.

Mom and I share a special bond.

I know those of you with siblings have had many wonderful, positive experiences. Priceless memories and times you’ve shared with brothers and sisters.

But allow me this one thing.

I loved being an only child. I found special joy spending time with my parents, knowing I didn’t have to share them in any way. Their love was never divided.

They were my parents, and I was fully aware of the depth of their love for me – their only child. Some people say it places too much pressure on a child to be the only one. Not for me. The last thing I felt was pressured. I felt loved, desired, and wanted.

It was that feeling that encouraged me to succeed. It motivated me to do my best. That love made me a better person. And their amazing love for God was the testimony that – still - brings me to my knees in gratefulness for the Christ who died for me, and the God who blessed me with His servants for parents.

There was a part of me that especially enjoyed knowing I was the apple of their eye. It probably killed them at times not to over protect or smother me, and yet I always felt their gentle presence beside me.

There is no one in the world I can be totally at home with but my parents. And since Dad is gone, time spent with Mom is absolutely treasured.

I mean, who else but my mom will make s’mores at 1 a.m. just because we both have a chocolate craving? Who else will stay up all night watching The Office re-runs just to hear her daughter laugh? Who else keeps a spare bra – in her daughter’s size – on hand, just in case? Who will lend you everything in the world and not care if she ever sees it again?

My mom.

So, whether it’s thunderstorms or sleepovers, I am definitely of the opinion that home is wherever your mom is.

FABS

Ah, how the Lord must look at me and shake His mighty head.

If you will recall, not that long ago, I was piteously moaning and groaning about how lonely I felt at my church.

Had I just been patient! I wouldn’t have to NOW be so obvious about why I am just a big crybaby.

The truth is, for the past few months, the Lord has allowed some unique friendships with the women at my church to blossom. It is almost (well, not almost, really exactly, is more like it) as if He was saying, “Just wait, my child.”

I, of course, like a stupid blundering sheep ran bleating into the night. “Baa! No baaady likes me. No baaady!”

The Shepherd must really wonder about me at times.

Thanks to a wide variety of new opportunities, God had blessed me with new friends. Several people I’ve met at Kids 4 Truth, and even more I’ve gotten to know though LBS – Ladies Bible Study.

Our Ladies Bible Study is currently going through the book of Philippians. It is an amazing, convicting study, and I’ve enjoyed the spiritual unity and growth taking place in our group.

Last Tuesday, we had a great time of sistership (we are not fellows) and delved into the meaning of striving for the gospel and contending for the faith, as well as an intense focus on unity.

I left the study feeling strong in the Spirit and unified. Of course, once I got home, I had a FABS time.

What is FABS, you may ask. Why, it’s a Fight After Bible Study, of course!

Why is it that after a night of strong study in the Word, I was SO susceptible to a fight with my husband?

And over something incredibly STOOPID.

I’m not kidding. Actual conversation:

HUBS: Can you sign these papers? I’ll take them upstairs.”
FLUBS: Can’t I sign the down here? I’m still in my work clothes.

HUBS: But I’M halfway up the stairs already.
FLUBS: But I’M downstairs.

HUBS: C’mon, just come upstairs.
FLUBS: YOU COME ON. Back down the stairs.

This argument continued ad nauseum and eventually ended in me stomping up the stairs with the maturity of a spoiled eight year old and using several unladylike words to describe exactly how I was feeling.

My husband responded by going to sleep while I was still fuming with my blood pressure creeping toward record levels

Of course, in the middle of my selfish little tantrum, I realized I was NOT striving for the gospel or unity – in my home, let alone in my heart. I woke HUBS up to apologize, and (to my surprise) received an apology in return.

We both said that we WERE tired, and really should have both been willing to compromise, but of course compromise is hard to think about when you’re being incredibly selfish.

Either way, I was grateful for the LBS, especially since I believe the Lord used it to show me how I need to be aware of FABS and continually be aware my inner nature doesn’t need much encouragement to get off track.

Special Note:

During LBS, our pastor’s wife was describing how she was being a “Philippian” spiritually at times.

I misheard and thought she said she was being a “Filipino.”

I almost laughed and was only saved by the fact that no one else cracked a smile, so I knew I hadn’t heard correctly.

Only me, folks.

That would only happen to me!

I have numerous stories to tell about LBS, including Jumbo Bible and the Jenna & Judy Are My Co-pilots bumper stick I plan to purchase.

But that is a post for another day.

Breathlessly Busy

How do you people with kids do it?

I mean, I have no children, no obligations, and as long as there is some form of canned meat in the house, my husband can fend for himself.

Yet, I find myself breathless with busy-ness. Breathless! This week has been a whirlwind of go-there-do-that, so much so, I’m convinced my body purposely got itself sick on Wednesday purely to give itself a much-needed rest.

Monday was the invitation, icee, and movie-going good time. Tuesday consisted of hospital visits to two sick family/friends, and Ladies Bible Study. Wednesday would have been Kids 4 Truth but my body revolted (ha, I’m revolting!) and tied me to the um…throne…for a day, if you will.

Today looks to be crazy – lunch with Candice and a jewelry party at my Aunt Annette’s. Friday will be busy too, with Mom, me, and Angie hitting the theaters in search of intelligent life, um, er…movies.

Since our men (how’s THAT for sexist) will be out hunting (how’s THAT for stereotypical) we figured we’d go see a movie and hang out (how’s THAT for…well, never mind, I got carried away.)

I know what you’re saying. Girl, you don’t HAVE to do all this stuff. It’s not so hard to stay home, is it?

It is! I don’t know why, but my schedule seems to fill up on its own, and I rarely see my own house, but to kiss it hello on Saturday morning. Not that I literally kiss my house. That would be highly unhygienic, considering we have never washed our siding. Are you supposed to wash siding? You are, aren’t you?

I think much of this tracks back to when I was a teenager and had no friends, transportation, or the tiniest sliver of popularity. I don’t say that to make you feel sorry for me, since I believe it was the intense amount of fiction I read that helps me – to this day – maintain my sanity.

But now that I do have transportation, and (those strange, strange) people who actually want to hang out with me (still no word on the popularity, though), I want desperately to take advantage of it. I feel like I’m playing catch-up - trying to have the good times I missed out on as a fat-teenager-at-a-hyper-conservative-Christian-school-where-we-could do-nothing-fun-without-being-expelled-and-oh-all-the-guys-were-jerks.

Maybe. Maybe not.

Either way, I figure NOW is the time for me to indulge, since I don’t have kids. My mom-friends Angie and Carleen both claim to live vicariously though me. Although they also both believe they haven’t left the house in over a year.

And, to be honest, I enjoy being THAT person who can be available to hang out with when your husband suddenly doesn’t have to work and CAN watch the kids, and you need to get out completely spontaneously.

I believe it’s my ministry.

Ha! Ha! That was a good one.

Anyway, just wanted you all to know I haven’t vanished into a black hole, since I didn’t post yesterday.

I’m okay, just busy, but never too busy to blog!

Invitations & Icees

Last night Candice and I went shopping for baby shower invitations. We missed Mom who is still suffering from a cold (get well soon, Mom!), since the three of us were originally planning to go together.

Candice drove us to Target where we picked out two different kinds of invitations (since they didn’t have enough of any one kind for the 50 (!) invitations we needed).

We also browsed around Target looking at baby clothes. Candice showed me most of what she registered for. It was nice to see her style and talk about what she likes. I hope she gets everything on her list!

Afterwards, we decided to see a movie together. It was a toss-up between Martian Child and Bee Movie. We decided to see Bee Movie (yes, I’m aware I’m a big, fat hypocrite).

Before the movie, we stopped by the concession stand, since neither of us had eaten dinner. I decided on a pretzel-n-cheese, and Candice told the girl behind the counter that the baby wanted an Icee.

The girl was like, “Awww…” and for a second I thought we were going to get the Icee for free.

No such luck.

The movie was okay, made more fun by Candice and I trying to juggle pretzels, nachos, cheese cups, hot dogs, sodas, and the aforementioned Icee in the dark.

After the movie ended and the lights went up, I saw my friend Andrea was in the theater with her three kids! We couldn’t believe we’d all been there and not seen each other.

Andrea told me about our friend, Jack. His family took him to the emergency room when he complained of extreme pain. Turns out, he had gall bladder problems, possibly severe, so he may have to have surgery. In any case, he’ll probably be in the hospital for a couple of days.

It’s amazing how God works this out – I was able to see Andrea and find out about Jack, all because Candice and I decided on Bee Movie.

As we were driving home, Candice and I were talking – poor girl, I talked her ear off.

And I saw it. Just a glimpse.

I saw Candice as a mother. I saw her sitting up straight, driving, talking, and showing concern, laughing with me.

It really hit me that she’s going to be an incredible mother. I could almost picture the baby seat in the back. My mind’s eye saw Candice turning around to check on the baby and talk some baby-talk.

I couldn’t help it. I just smiled.

I’ve always thought of Candice as my cousin, my almost-sister, and most definitely my friend, but in a few months, she’s also going to be a mother.

An amazing mother, by my guess.

I realized in that quick flash, that I’m so fortunate to be here now, in her life, as her family, as her friend. She inspires me in so many ways, a shoulder to cry on, someone to laugh with, and even though she may not always understand me; she loves me anyway.

This is going to be one fortunate child!

I’m so grateful God gives us those little moments of clarity when we get to see what’s really important in life. I’m certainly glad He gave me one last night.

More People in the Hospital

Thank you all for your prayers for my co-worker Merissa!

We received an update this morning. Merissa’s boss and another co-worker were able to go to Madison yesterday and be there when she came out of the anesthetic.

According to their report, she looked wonderful and her memory was intact. The doctors were able to do the surgery through the groin, so she has no head wound and did not have to have her hair shaved off - which she was delighted to hear.

She will be in intensive care for a few days and then in another room for awhile. In total, at least two weeks in the hospital. There is still some concern--she's not out of the woods yet, so please continue to remember her in your thoughts and prayers.

Also, please pray for my Uncle Jack (not really a relative, but a close family friend). He was taken to the emergency room with extreme pain. The doctors have diagnosed him with a gall bladder problem, possibly severe, and it looks as though he may be in the hospital for a few days. Surgery is also a possibility.

Lastly, my Aunt Louise (actually my relative – and also a friend) is having surgery today at Rockford Memorial. Please pray for her speedy recovery. She will most likely be in the hospital for a few days and would welcome your thoughts and prayers.

Please pray for God’s will and healing for these dear people. Thank you so much!

Puffy Coat Photos

A big thanks to Mom who managed to sneak some photos of Brett in his puffy coat.

Some things to keep in mind - Brett is 6'4." I'm 5'4." The coat doesn't look too puffy on him, since he's so tall. On me, the darn thing bunches up mightily around the ol' waist, like I'm wearing an inner tube underneath it.

Enjoy the photos! (because we all know I'm not going to)

Ms. President

Okay, so here’s a funky thought.

I just read a blog from someone who seemed to be kind of my kind of person.

As I read, she made a comment - that in a nation like ours; “with a woman running for President”…it went on a bit more with other things….”we need to pray for revival.”

I’m not arguing that we do need to pray. The comment just took me off guard. I agreed with the other 99% of what she said, but I couldn’t get over (those of you who know me won’t be surprised) that woman running for President crack.

I mean, it just took me by surprise that, in this day and age, someone would have a problem with a woman running for President. I’m not saying I support this particular woman, but that surely doesn’t mean I wouldn’t support another, differently qualified, woman.

Do people still think like this? It’s, like, pretty much inconceivable to me that we would still be so overtly sexist in our assumptions.

Why shouldn’t a woman run for President? It’s not like it’s been done perfectly by the previous male occupants of that office.

I’m just…stunned…I guess. I thought we had finally progressed beyond this. Besides the usual crazies, I mean.

Has anyone else heard anything like this?

Or have I just been an ostrich with my head in the sand?

To the Michigan Fans I May Have Offended

I have no problem with Michigan sports teams.

In fact, I don’t care about Michigan sports teams, at all.

Brett could have brought home Puffy Coat from ANY college sports team, and I would have been just as horrified.

It is really the tacky design (Karyn will vouch for that), the puffiness, and frankly the day-glo colors favored by the Wolverines that invokes my hatred of Puffy Coat.

I do not know how long Puffy Coat will be with us, but please rest assured, I do not hate Michigan.

My wrath is reserved solely for Puffy Coat.

Independence Day

That’s right! My new car is finally here!

I’m so excited to have my freedom back. I am also SO grateful to the people who willingly drove me to work, home, and all the other places I had to go after the accident.

You are all wonderful - thank you so much.

I’m mostly excited to get plugged-back in at church.

When I was depending on Brett to transport me, it just wasn’t fair to ask him to take me to Ladies Bible Study or Kids-4-Truth. Since he works up to 12 hours a day, he’s too exhausted to do much more than fall into bed when he gets home, so I had to un-plug from those (very enriching) activities for more than a month.

Now, I can start up again.

I can also go to the Dollar Store, the mall, out to eat….hey, maybe having the car is going to drain my wallet!

I suppose it will anyway, considering we’re paying $3.29 for gas.

Either way, I don’t care! I’m just so glad to have wheels again.

I prayed in the car this morning that God would bless the use of it to His praise and glory. I hope you’ll say an extra prayer for my safety, too.

I could wait a long time, even forever, for another accident.

Weekend Wrap-Up

Okay, first of all, props to me for actually getting a weekend wrap-up posted on a Monday.

I’ll wait for your applause.

Okay, on to the wrap-up:

Friday night, Brett and I ordered pizza from the delectable Rosati’s (best breadsticks in the world), stayed in, and watched separate TV’s. Excuse me for not being a public television fan.

Saturday, I worked the day away at the office; before Mom stole me away for a Mom-n-Me night. Mom made her signature dish from my childhood (meaning the only dish she made back then that was…umm...edible) Chicken Pot Pie. It was delicious!

We spent a good part of the evening getting Mom’s blog up to date. Hey, check it out and COMMENT. She thinks no one reads it, and gosh darn it, if my Mom isn’t good enough for you to comment…okay, okay, threats rarely work.

But, seriously, she’d love to have a couple of comments!

(Shout out to Mom, by the way, who currently has a BAD cold and is sniffling the day away. Feel better, Mom!)

Mom was feeling better on Saturday night, when we took advantage of my Netflix membership, Netflix’s Watch Instantly web feature, and Mom’s high-speed internet. We watched an old black and white movie, Father of the Bride, starring Spence Tracy (father) and Elizabeth Taylor (daughter).

Very sweet. Made sweeter by the chocolicious cupcakes Mom bought for dessert.

I woke up on Sunday in utter dread of the day ahead. It was the premiere of Puffy Coat.

I had to pair Puffy Coat with my black velvet slacks, silver velvet suit jacket, and black silk cami. I felt like filet mignon stuffed in a hot dog.

I wore Puffy Coat to Sunday School breakfast hour and had to beg Brett for permission to peel it off, since he thought we looked utterly awesome in our matching, glowing coats.

Actually, wearing the coat made me feel quite safe, since I’m pretty sure it’s flame retardant (dang it!) and so bright, we can easily be seen at night.

Or from space.

My church family’s reactions ran the gamut from sympathetic to enthusiastic.

Robin referred to me as “a brave soul.”

Joy assured me it isn’t “that puffy.”

Heidi wore her (much classier) Michigan coat to show solidarity.

Karen especially encouraged me by agreeing that the coat was “not at all something I would ever think you would wear. Ever.” She also gave me several practical ideas on how to get rid of it without hurting Brett’s feelings. My favorite was “re-gift it to a poor family of Michigan fans.”

Wilbur Lee thought we looked “cute.”

After morning service, we enjoyed dinner with the (Jason) Scott and the (Garth/Garrett) Cliff families. Heidi outdid herself with pork, stuffed potatoes, veggies, and amazing dessert – who would think to serve Snicker’s Ice Cream?!

Heidi, that’s who – and that’s why I now love her.

The conversation shared around the table was a blessing! Brett and Jason compared shaved heads. We conservative “kids” helped Brett understand how “good” he had it at Moody. Brett always complains Moody was too strict. He never believes me when I say,” You don’t know strict!”

Thanks to the rest of us, he now believes.

Favorite comment, Garrett to Brett, “Come on, man, you were wined and dined in college!”

Hilarious.

The dinner and company redeemed the Puffy Coat morning, so I was in a chipper mood as we headed to Sunday night church.

Sunday night church. Where Pastor pointed out our stupid coats from the pulpit.

From the pulpit.

He made some very funny comment about not knowing we were Michigan fans and then went on, but I didn’t hear anything, since my cheeks were burning from embarrassment.

I can’t blame Pastor. We were pretty much impossible to miss in our puffy coats. I totally felt like a life raft.

Anyway, I managed to make it though the rest of the service without further attention drawn to the parachute on my back.

Once we got home, I accidentally dropped my coat and managed to step all over it in dirty shoes. Oops.

Don’t get excited. The dirt slid right off (and I even ground my heels in!). It’s virtually indestructible.

Curse you, Puffy Coat!

Urgent Prayer Request!

I work with an amazing woman named Merissa. On Sunday, she was air-lifted to the University of Wisconsin Hospital in Madison with a suspected aneurysm. She is currently in surgery.

Obviously, this is a very serious situation.

Merissa is only 28. She's had headaches off and on lately and has had a bad headache for the last week. She went to the doctor Thursday but was told that it was stress. Sunday morning, about 3:00 a.m., the pain was so bad she went to the emergency room. The doctors told her it was good she came in when she did or she could have died.

Please pray for her in surgery and the recovery time following. Merissa has no family nearby – no mother, no father. Her two sisters live in Virginia and are in no shape to care for her.

She needs your prayers and your thoughts. She is a sweet, caring person, in spite of having a hard life that could have caused her to go in many different directions. Instead, she is hard-working, responsible, and sweet-natured.

Again, I plead for your prayers. Merissa has always been the nurturer to those around her, and now that she needs nurturing there is no one for her – but us – those who believe in the power of prayer.

Please keep her in your prayers.

Bald Choice

As I lie/laid/lay/lied (I’m too lazy to look up the correct form) in bed last night, unable to sleep, I started thinking about my favorite TV shows.

Mostly, I was just trying to stop thinking about the fact that Brett has shaved his head. He is now completely bald.

I don’t know why. It’s the onset of winter and people rarely do the head-shaving thing during this time, but Brett is HIS OWN MAN, convention and reason be hanged.

I also didn’t react the way he would have liked.

Which I’m guessing went something like, “Oh my gosh, you’re the most handsome man ever with no hair. You’re like Wentworth Miller and Dominic Purcell all rolled into one. Come here, you hottie, so I can make mad, passionate love to you.”

Instead, I said. “Why did you do that? It looks weird.”

This did not bode well with my husband who apparently believes winter-time head shaving is quite the fashion-forward choice. You know, because he is such a trendsetter.

His bald-headedness disturbs me deeply. But I am nothing if not the dutiful wife, so I’ve started calling him “Bald Eagle” which he apparently loves and believes will make a delightful and patriotic pet name.

I did not like it. In fact, last night I told him I felt like I was making love to a leukemia patient.

“Hi, I’m from the Make a Wish Foundation and…”

It was weird.

Then I woke up in the middle of the night and saw his big white Scandinavian head gleaming the moonlight. For one very scary second, I flashed back to a Criminal Minds where the serial killer du jour kills the husband while he’s sleeping and then takes his place in bed with the wife.

Like I said, scary.

I’ve gotten completely off track, since this was supposed to be about TV shows. Next post, perhaps.

For some reason, I’m now in the mood to watch Kojak reruns.

Punch Me Out

Y’all know I’m hopeless in the kitchen, right?

Good.

So, here’s my dilemma. I need a good recipe for punch for my cousin Candice’s baby shower.

Punch, of course, because we can’t afford individual drinks such as sodas or bottled waters. That gets expensive when your family is huge and your guest of honor is immensely popular.

I know punch generally involves some form of 7UP, or Ginger Ale, or Sherbet, or Sierra Mist, or Kool-Aid, or Crystal Light, or sugar, or honey, or some form of ice, or frozen fruit.

But I’m really afraid of what might happen if I pour ALL that in, so your guidance is sorely need and much appreciated.

Sugar Sister

Candice came over on Thursday night so we could combine all our addresses for her upcoming baby shower.

I love that she is finally starting to show, and I can now talk to the baby without looking like a complete idiot!

As we started our invitation list, we discovered:

a.) We have an extremely large family
b.) Candice has no shortage of good friends
c.) We invited as many of Aunt Kathy’s friends, as we did Candice’s friends
d.) Colleen is a really quick decision maker
(which turns everything I thought I knew about the Boehms upside down! Ha! Ha!)

When we came to an impasse of should-we-invite-them-or-do-they-live-too-far-away-or-will-they-be-offended Candice just called Colleen up, and Colleen was completely decisive. “No. You’d just be wasting money.”

Thanks, Colleen! Candice and I hemmed and hawed for thirty minutes before she finally called you.

After our exhaustive list-making and address-writing-down, we took a break to enjoy some TV with My Name Is Earl, The Office, and a surprisingly funny 30 Rock (I’m not usually a fan). The Office was a birthday episode and there was shot after shot of all different kinds of birthday cake.

Candice looked at me. I looked at Candice.

“I really want a cupcake now.” I told her.

“I was just thinking that,” she told me.

“I’m going to make a cake!” I decided.

“I’ll help you…eat it,” Candice offered.

I went in search of a cake mix which I did have, but I didn’t have any eggs so that was out. I rooted out my mother-in-law’s cookbook and found a Moist Chocolate Cake recipe that didn’t call for eggs.

While I slaved over a hot stove, Brett and Candice talked about their jobs. Since they work at the same place, they could commiserate. I just listened, shaking my head occasionally, thanking God I don’t work for the home improvement industry.

Brett hinted around at asking if Candice had a birth “coach” yet, and let her know he’d be more than happy to help if she needed a guy around “for some reason.” It was really sweet.

Candice was appreciative, but she told us she’s pretty sure there will be no shortage of people trying to burst into the room, so she’ll probably be okay. That’s what happens when you have a ton of family and really good friends. Still, she knows we’re her back-up, if needed. We’ll be there for her. (whether she wants us or not, she’s stuck!).

I let the cake cool for about five seconds before I sampled it. It was…definitely a cake made with no eggs. Thankfully, I had a can of Duncan Hines Milk Chocolate Frosting which made the cake taste absolutely delicious.

Of course, the right frosting can make even corrugated cardboard taste absolutely delicious.

It didn’t hurt that one can of frosting contains about the same amount of sugar as a life size Willy Wonka…made out of Peeps.

It was so delicious! Candice and I enjoyed our treat, and popped in a Dr. Quinn episode to keep us entertained.

Normally, I like Dr. Quinn, but this particular episode was not very well-written or acted. And it featured the “new” Colleen.

“I don’t remember that girl,” Candice confided.

“It’s the new Colleen,” Brett said helpfully. “We’re not big fans.”

Ha! Ha! My words are finally making a dent in his consciousness!

As the episode wore on, Candice and I couldn’t help ourselves. The story centered on a woman who was infertile by means of a rare condition where she was born with no uterus.

For some reason, the word “uterus” made us giggle like ten years olds in a public school health class.

We started inserting our own dialogue. Actual conversations include:

Dr. Quinn: We’re going to protect our children, Sully!
Me: And their uteruses!

New Colleen: Brian, I’m so cold.
Candice: My uterus hurts!

Sully: We’ll do anything to make Colleen well again.
Me: I’ll donate my uterus!

We also enjoyed an extreme overacting performance by the new Colleen in which she manages to contract pneumonia in one day after she falls in a creek.

After a quick cure by Dr. Quinn, Candice remarked, “Well, if you can get it in one day, I guess it can be cured in one day.”

The night went way too fast and before we knew it, it was time for Candice to head home. We just love it when Candice comes over. She’s just herself around us and doesn’t mind it if we are our slouchy, slobby selves.

Perhaps the best thing about Candice is how she makes me laugh and laugh.

Until my uterus hurts.

Love & the Puffy Coat

Some women get flowers and candy from their significant others.

Not me.

I get puffy sportswear.

Allow me to explain.

Yesterday, Brett had to drive to Dundee, Illinois, to transfer the rest of the funds for my new/old car. On his way back, he stopped at one of HIS favorite clothing stores – Steve and Barry’s – located in the Spring Hill Mall.

The reason Brett loves Steve and Barry’s is because nothing – nothing – is more than $12.95. This confirms Brett’s theory that all clothing should cost less than $15. It also gives him ammunition when I want to buy clothing that is more than that amount.

The first time I bought a brand name bra, Brett almost had a coronary. “$35 for one bra? Is it a Super-Bra? What’s it made out of? Kevlar?”

“Yes, I bought a Kevlar bra. Now is the time to tell you I secretly fight crime in my underwear when I tell you I have a late night meeting.”

I have told Brett time and time again that when it comes to clothing, quality clothing, you get what you pay for. Clothes shopping done right is an investment.

Brett still thinks all underwear comes in a five pack at Wal-Mart for $3.99. I’ve tried to explain to him that my underwear, a complex mix of spandex and lycra, will last me a lot longer than his cotton Spiderman underoos.

Not that he wears Spiderman underoos. I’m talking quality level.

Anyway, back to Steve and Barry’s, Brett brought a few things back for me.

Two t-shirts, one with a GIANT ARMY symbol and one with a GIANT NAVY symbol. Both were conveniently his size, you know, just in case, for some reason, I might not want them.

I held the shirts up and tried to figure out what to say. “Honey, didn’t we talk about you buying clothes for me?”

We have had this conversation exactly three times. It finally came to a point where I told Brett he should never buy clothes for me. Never. Ever.

Why? Well, let’s start with a sample of a few things he has bought me over the years - a sparkly crocheted pink sweater vest, a Winnie the Pooh sweatshirt, and a Size 6 lingerie outfit.

Can you see me EVER wearing either a pink sweater vest or a Disney-themed sweatshirt? Not since 1990.

As for the Size 6 business, I’ve NEVER been a Size 6. In fact, I’m pretty sure even my teeth aren’t a Size 6.

And nothing was more embarrassing than returning THAT. The salesperson looked at me like, “Did you REALLY think you were a Size 6? Is somebody suffering from ocular degeneration? Or dementia?”

“No, my husband’s just a really, really bad shopper.”

So, here we go again. I now own two oversize shirts that support the ARMY and the NAVY. You know, because that is so me.

Ah, but the trouble wasn’t over.

He held up not one, but two, gigantic puffy coats emblazoned with Michigan (Michigan?) Wolverines logos.

There are so many reasons this coat is not something I would ever wear/pick out/even stand remotely close to in a store.

First of all, it’s a pimp coat. This is something rappers wear in music videos (dear Lord, please tell me he didn’t buy me a mouth grill). Secondly, I hate professional sports. Thirdly, it’s so puffy, I look like I’m trying to smuggle illegal immigrants in my coat.

And lastly, Michigan? Where does he think we live?

But perhaps the fashion mistake that pains me most is the fact he bought MATCHING coats.

Yes, we are now going to look like one of THOSE annoying sports-oriented couples who DRESS ALIKE.

Kill me now. Please.

But, my dear husband was so excited for me to try on this horrendous coat. So I bundled up into it and zipped it up.

“You look great,” he fawned. He put his matching coat on and gave me a great big puffy hug.

It was as corny as it sounds.

So, because my husband has shown me his love, by purchasing um…sportswear, I will wear it proudly.

Unless...

Unless one of you can help me. If I wear my coat on Sunday, during the breakfast hour, could someone please, please manage to spill coffee on it “accidentally”?

Believe me, Puffy Coat has enough layers, I will be protected from any burn.

Take pity on me. I beg you.

In my heart, I find his gesture kind of sweet. He does love me and try to protect me, the best way he can.

I suppose I should just rest in that and just be happy the coat wasn’t a size 6.

The Ad That Spoke to Me

I was reading today’s GO section of the Rockford Register Star when an ad stopped me in my tracks.

It so expressed the way I felt last December when I was praying for God to change Brett (or to take me out of this world!). It was an ad for a Women’s Conference, and I have to say that it was a nice change from the happy, bubbly ads that churches usually produce for a conference.

This ad spoke to the many ways women today may face desperation and need guidance from someone who has been there…and survived.

This kind of conference speaks to me. This kind of marketing needs to be done. Life isn’t always sunshine and rainbows, and I love the thought of attending a conference that deals with the “down” part of life and helps us recognize those times as a reality and seeks to help.

Prayers for Grandma & Aunt Louise

Just a prayer request! Please pray for my 90 year old Grandma as she is having some health problems, and for my Aunt Louise, as she prepares to undergo surgery this upcoming Tuesday.

You can read more and check out the sweetest little photo of Grandma at Mom's blog!

Weekend Wrap-up

Yes, I know it’s Wednesday. And yes, I know I am again LATE on my weekend wrap-up. I'm going to have to start calling it the Wednesday Weekend Wrap-Up!

Thankfully, since my weekend was spent mostly running between my bed and the bathroom, the recap shan’t be long. As you might have guessed, I got that nasty rotavirus that has been going around.

I know exactly where I got it.

Brett and I went to Panera’s for a hot chocolate on Friday. In line behind us was a woman with two little girls. The little girls were complaining loudly about their “tummies” not feeling well. They then proceeded to cough all over everything, without covering their mouths, and put their sticky little hands on every available surface.

I said to Brett, “I swear, if I get sick from this…”

And two days later, I got sick.

AAARRRGGGHHHH! Okay, don’t kill me, my parental friends, but WHY should a person bring two obviously SICK little ones into a public restaurant and not take any precautions? ARGH! I know, I know. Plenty of really good reasons - kids were sick, getting hot soup, can’t leave ‘em in the car unsupervised, blah, blah, blah.

Anyway, NOT focusing on THAT anymore. I’ve mostly worked out my angst.

Before I got sick on Sunday and the missed work on Monday, Brett and I spent a very nice Saturday. Had I know I was incubating a virus, I wouldn’t have been so happy, but thank goodness I didn’t yet know.

In the back of my mind, I think I suspected…

Anyway, on Saturday, Brett and I took an absolutely breathtaking, beautiful autumn drive to Mount Carroll, Illinois. Our dear friend is the manager of a car dealership out there, so it was fun way to combine a fall drive on back country roads, a visit with our friend, and the chance to check out new/old cars for me.

We test drove several cars, and eventually decided on a…2007 Taurus. It’s shocking I know - that I would buy the exact same type of car - but hey, I survived a roll-over in that car, so it’s obviously got my safety in mind.

We put money down on the car and are waiting for our insurance check and a money transfer to clear, and then hopefully, I’ll have reclaimed my independence by the end of the month.

Hallelujah! Oh, and by the way, this Taurus has a five star safety rating!

Our friend took no commission and helped us choose the right car for our budget and safety. The car is used, but only slightly, and has less than 20,000 miles on it.

Brett was very pleased, and I was, too, although I just don’t get all that excited about cars. As long as they look semi-decent and get me from one place to another is all I really ask for.

The virus hit me hard Saturday night, Sunday, and Monday. I hated having to take a sick day, but I really couldn’t have gone anywhere and been productive, so they were really better off without me.

Yesterday, we had another big fundraising event, so I was tied up in that all day – a 12 hour day! The event was catered by ABC Catering – and the food was ab-fab, although I only got the chance to munch since I was working.

Hopefully, now things will get back to normal! At least, normal for me, that is.

Which, as you know, isn’t all that normal.

Truly Trotter

The majority of my life has been spent surrounded by my mother’s family, the Rehfeldts.

Since there were 12 Rehfeldt children and many, many second and third generation Rehfeldts, it’s obvious I grew up with a healthy respect for family and saw aspects of my own personality reflected back in my Rehfeldt relatives.

But, in truth, I’m only half-Rehfeldt. I’m also half-Trotter.

My dad’s family was much smaller. Only three brothers. Dad’s story reads more like Cinderella – a mother who died young, a gambling father, and an evil stepmother.

Seriously, an evil stepmother.

It’s a long, drawn out tale and most of Dad’s growing up life still makes me very sad when I reflect on it. But in truth, it was the hardship growing up that made Dad resolve to be a better father than the one he had. I benefited from that resolution, as I had the most caring, sensitive, truly funny, and simply wonderful man in the world for my very own father.

Okay, I’m a little biased.

Anyway, back to the Trotter’s – I never knew my grandmother, for who I am named. She died when Dad was a teenager. I never met the grandfather who gambled his life away and died alone in a hotel room. I never knew my Uncle Phil who committed suicide when he was only 21.

I only knew my Uncle Jimmy. And he was in the FBI. And that was SO cool; it made up for everything else.

Do you have any idea how awesome it was to say, “Yeah, my uncle’s in the FBI.”?

My father and my uncle were never very close, although I knew my dad loved his brother. For some reason, they weren’t connected by the closeness I had come to expect from my mother’s family.

I’ve had the opportunity to visit my Trotter relatives only a handful of times. I barely remember a visit when I was toddler. Another visit was when I was about eleven or twelve, and the most recent was when Mom, Brett, and I went to my cousin Suzanna’s wedding.

My Uncle Jimmy graciously agreed to give me away at my wedding, and my cousin Will attended the wedding. In fact, Will was standing next to me in a couple of photos, and everybody wanted to know, “Is THAT your husband? He’s GORGEOUS.” And so he is. Soft-spoken, southern accented and very handsome.

But, I had to inform everyone, I was actually marrying the tall Swede over there getting sunburned in the shade.

Still, admitting I was related to GORGEOUS, wasn’t exactly horrible.

My Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Susie have four children. Suzanna (my only other girl cousin on the Trotter side), Jimmy Jr. (Dad always called him “Bubba”), Andrew (all I remember is tall and nice-looking), and Will.

Will was the reason I wanted to name my first kid Will – I thought he was so cool when we were kids. I still do, even though I haven’t seen him for years now.

Since they live in Virginia and Florida, mostly, I don’t much get the chance to keep up with my Trotter cousins. However, Mom sent Uncle Jimmy an e-mail directing him to our blogs.

Uncle Jimmy decided to set up a Trotter blog (with my cousins) so we could all keep in touch. I hope to be frequent contributor, and I hope you’ll stop by and take a look.

After all, we all knew I couldn’t get this crazy with just one family involved!

Please read the first post by Uncle Jimmy (Pappy – as he’s known to his kids and grandkids). It’s about my blog and one of the sweetest things I’ve ever read.

No Laughing Matter

Frankly, it’s embarrassing, and now we’re going to have to find a new dentist.

Workplace Drama

Before my post today, I’d like to note this is my 350th post! Can you believe it? You’ve been bored by me over 350 times! Yea!

Ah, office politics.

There’s something they don’t teach you in college.

I got my first taste of office politics at the Visiting Nurses Association where I worked as a File Assistant, Receptionist, and all-around-gopher when I was on summer and semester breaks in college.

Let me tell you, you find out what people are really like by the way they treat temporary workers. I found myself in alliances with the file room and the administrative office employees. Apparently, “we” were supposed to make life difficult for the accounting department. And, oh we despised the “uppity” nurses.

I was a fresh-faced college kid and didn’t want to make waves, but I soon learned one “had” to pick sides. It was virtually impossible to be liked in every department.

The nursing supervisors looked at me like an annoying bug, the nurses blatantly ignored my nicely-phrased sticky notes for files to be returned to the file room, and the social worker told me in confidence that he avoided the office as much as possible.

Things weren’t much better, although slicker on the surface, when I worked as a communications intern at the Chicagoland Chamber of Commerce. My boss there still remains one of them most cool, kick-butt people I've ever known. She was a loud, recently-quit-smoking, genius with communications. Learning under her was the best experience I could have hoped for to propel me forward into a life of career communications.

But, even in that very professional office, there were alliances. And we interns - there were four of us - were on the bottom of the bottom of the ladder. The four of us had to share one desk, two computers, and we actually got along a lot better than our bosses, who often tried to pit us against one another.

I still remember me, Darnell, Ming-Na, and Darryl running interference around the office. The secretaries hated us and often “forgot” to leave us messages from our bosses. And I once personally got yelled at by the president of a major company because I didn’t have the correct label on the package for the messenger guy.

I learned from the masters, back then.

It’s tough just being a person in an office. Let alone being a Christian. Let alone when people KNOW you’re a Christian.

Politics. Networking. Grandstanding. It’s all very difficult to maneuver when you have to keep in mind you’re not actually working for these people. You’re working for the Lord. And He’s the one you’ll answer to.

Still one of the hardest things I face everyday.

Currently, we have a little office drama going on. One person dislikes another and is gobbling up alliances with other people trying to turn them to her side. The other person is beleaguered, confused, and not about to take this lying down.

It’s like Junior High revisited.

And we all know how much we disliked Junior High the first time.

I find myself torn. The part of me that enjoys the occasional drama is willing to pick sides and start slinging sarcastic mud (which we all know I can do quite well).

The other part of me knows the smartest business acumen is to stay out of the whole thing and rise above. And the inside part of me wars with being involved, but in a positive way, trying to be kind to both sides and foster a tentative peace.

But oh, how the mud calls to me! I find myself trying to resist falling prey to falling in it.

Whoever said having an office job is easy - obviously hasn’t had any of mine!

Marrying for Money

This morning I watched a little snippet of one of those network morning shows – Today, Up with People, I don’t know.

Anyway, they had Jerry Seinfeld on to talk about the endlessly hyped Bee Movie (I'm purposely NOT putting a link here, since I'm so sick of seeing it everywhere) he’s currently busying promoting. In the midst of the interview, they showed photos of his wife and children.

I recalled the big fuss when Jerry married his wife, Jessica. Since she was already just newly married to a major RICH guy and only weeks back from her honeymoon when they met at a gym, the media labeled her a gold-digger - it sure seemed that way to me too, I remember. Currently, she’s also come under fire for plagiarism with her just released new cookbook.

I watched the feature for a few minutes and learned that last year alone, Jerry made 60 million dollars. 60 MILLION. If I were Jessica, I think I would be very happy with that. Especially if her reputation is anything like what it’s being portrayed in the media.

I turned to my husband. “Do you ever wish you married for money?”

He gave me a kiss on the nose. “Who says I didn’t?”

Hmm…seems like I have my very own gold-digger! He’s lucky I know he’s teasing.

Although, if I did make 60 million dollars…I’d understand the added attraction.