This is just a little note sending my thoughts and prayers to the family and friends of my second cousin, Joyce Kellar, who passed away this week after a valiant battle with cancer. She will be missed and thought of often.
Please pray for her family as they go through this difficult time and also have to make decisions concerning the care of Joyce’s husband, Bill, who has Alzheimer’s. I’m sure they will appreciate your thoughts and prayers.
Monday, February 26, 2007
The Calm & The Storm
This weekend was different. I can’t really put my finger on why it was different, just that it was.
Friday night we sacked out on the couch with delicious Rosati’s delivery and watched our recently purchased Fantastic Four DVD. Now, we only have Daredevil and Electra left to get from that Marvel DVD series, since we already own X-Men 1-3.
Saturday, I spent the morning cuddled on the couch watching Murder, She Wrote episodes, eating toast and peanut butter, while Brett scuttled around town trying to get all the errands done before we got the predicted big snow storm in the evening.
When he got home, he showed off his new haircut. I told him I wished he had told me he was getting a haircut, since I desperately needed one, too. My hair was veering most definitely towards a she-mullet (which may be popular on 80’s-era Murder, She Wrote episodes, but not so much in 2007).
So, we decided to go back out to Cost Cutters for my hair cut, and then we stopped by the grocery store to get the buns veggie mix and pick out some groceries for the week.
When I recently got the high blood pressure death talk from my doctor, I decided to check out some American Heart Association (AHA) cookbooks from the library. Try before you buy, that’s what I always say. Since the doc recommended a low-sodium diet, I also checked out AHA’s new Low-Salt Cookbook. I am planning to try out some new recipes this week, and Brett has agreed to be my guinea pig with giving the thumbs-up or thumbs-down.
After we got back from the store, I had this amazing burst of energy! I’ve officially given up caffeine, but so far (amazingly!) I haven’t suffered any ill effects. I hadn’t had ANY caffeine since the Wednesday before, so I’m not really sure where the energy came from. But there it was! I washed and bagged the buns’ veggie mix (a two hour job), cleaned the buns’ cage and our room (another two hour job), and then made dinner! I felt like Wonder Woman!
I rarely cook. And I joke about the reason being that I’m a bad cook. Or, I’ll say that once you learn how to do something (like cook) people expect you to do it on a regular basis. But the truth of the matter is (and Mom and Brett can confirm this) that I’m really a pretty good cook. I’m not bragging, and I’m my own toughest critic, but I really can cook when I put my mind to it.
I just don’t “like” to cook. It’s too much work; it’s gone too fast; and clean up is a you-know-what. But, since I’m trying to lower my heart-attack-waiting-to-happen blood pressure through the DASH diet (Dietary Approaches to Stop Hypertension), it looks like I’m going to have to start cooking fresh and healthy on a regular basis.
So, last night, I started cooking. Brett loves it when I cook. It puts him in a great mood. I don’t know what it is about my playing at being the Happy Homemaker that makes him so happy, but it does. I think his dream wife is Donna Reed.
He was all smiles the rest of the weekend.
Church was cancelled due to the snow storm, and I spent most of Sunday going through my cabinets and throwing out all the expired stuff. It was just a little thing but it really did make me feel like I had accomplished something.
I can tell that my new blood pressure medication is working already. I felt calmer and more in control this whole weekend than I did for the last month on the old medication I’m really grateful for that.
This morning, Brett drove me to work and is picking me up at the end of the day, so we can go shopping for more ingredients for tonight’s dinner. He’s really looking forward to it. That crazy guy!
So, the weekend was busy and yet calmer for me than anything has been in a long time.
Peace out!
Friday night we sacked out on the couch with delicious Rosati’s delivery and watched our recently purchased Fantastic Four DVD. Now, we only have Daredevil and Electra left to get from that Marvel DVD series, since we already own X-Men 1-3.
Saturday, I spent the morning cuddled on the couch watching Murder, She Wrote episodes, eating toast and peanut butter, while Brett scuttled around town trying to get all the errands done before we got the predicted big snow storm in the evening.
When he got home, he showed off his new haircut. I told him I wished he had told me he was getting a haircut, since I desperately needed one, too. My hair was veering most definitely towards a she-mullet (which may be popular on 80’s-era Murder, She Wrote episodes, but not so much in 2007).
So, we decided to go back out to Cost Cutters for my hair cut, and then we stopped by the grocery store to get the buns veggie mix and pick out some groceries for the week.
When I recently got the high blood pressure death talk from my doctor, I decided to check out some American Heart Association (AHA) cookbooks from the library. Try before you buy, that’s what I always say. Since the doc recommended a low-sodium diet, I also checked out AHA’s new Low-Salt Cookbook. I am planning to try out some new recipes this week, and Brett has agreed to be my guinea pig with giving the thumbs-up or thumbs-down.
After we got back from the store, I had this amazing burst of energy! I’ve officially given up caffeine, but so far (amazingly!) I haven’t suffered any ill effects. I hadn’t had ANY caffeine since the Wednesday before, so I’m not really sure where the energy came from. But there it was! I washed and bagged the buns’ veggie mix (a two hour job), cleaned the buns’ cage and our room (another two hour job), and then made dinner! I felt like Wonder Woman!
I rarely cook. And I joke about the reason being that I’m a bad cook. Or, I’ll say that once you learn how to do something (like cook) people expect you to do it on a regular basis. But the truth of the matter is (and Mom and Brett can confirm this) that I’m really a pretty good cook. I’m not bragging, and I’m my own toughest critic, but I really can cook when I put my mind to it.
I just don’t “like” to cook. It’s too much work; it’s gone too fast; and clean up is a you-know-what. But, since I’m trying to lower my heart-attack-waiting-to-happen blood pressure through the DASH diet (Dietary Approaches to Stop Hypertension), it looks like I’m going to have to start cooking fresh and healthy on a regular basis.
So, last night, I started cooking. Brett loves it when I cook. It puts him in a great mood. I don’t know what it is about my playing at being the Happy Homemaker that makes him so happy, but it does. I think his dream wife is Donna Reed.
He was all smiles the rest of the weekend.
Church was cancelled due to the snow storm, and I spent most of Sunday going through my cabinets and throwing out all the expired stuff. It was just a little thing but it really did make me feel like I had accomplished something.
I can tell that my new blood pressure medication is working already. I felt calmer and more in control this whole weekend than I did for the last month on the old medication I’m really grateful for that.
This morning, Brett drove me to work and is picking me up at the end of the day, so we can go shopping for more ingredients for tonight’s dinner. He’s really looking forward to it. That crazy guy!
So, the weekend was busy and yet calmer for me than anything has been in a long time.
Peace out!
Hot Buttery Popcorn and Murder, She Wrote
The people at Netflix probably think I have an addiction to Murder, She Wrote.
I reserve the DVD series as soon as each season is released. I don’t know what it is, but there is something unbelievable comforting about watching Angela Lansbury solve funky 80’s-era murders as mystery novelist Jessica Fletcher.
Part of my enjoyment comes from childhood nostalgia as I remember curling up with Mom on the couch watching Murder, She Wrote after church on Sunday nights while munching buttery popcorn. Another part comes from the strange feeling of self-accomplishment when I correctly “solve” the murder half-way through the show. The clues and acting are so ham-handed that a monkey could solve the case, but I feel good about it, nonetheless.
And Angela Lansbury is ever-so-charming that I find myself wishing she were real and that I lived in Cabot Cove, Maine, so we could be neighbors. Of course, considering the high body count in Cabot Cove (hence the many mysteries Jessica has to solve) that probably wouldn’t be the safest course of action.
Recently, I’ve discovered that my (still firmly-entrenched in 80’s nostalgia himself) husband also enjoys my Murder, She Wrote obsession. He’ll often sit happily and watch a few episodes with me. Although, he does give me squinty-eyed looks when I make fun of the clothes and hair. That comes from him growing up in the 80’s and me in the 90’s, of course. He actually wore those clothes and thought they were cool. He probably STILL thinks they are cool.
Either way, it’s a fun way to “knock-off” a Friday night!
I reserve the DVD series as soon as each season is released. I don’t know what it is, but there is something unbelievable comforting about watching Angela Lansbury solve funky 80’s-era murders as mystery novelist Jessica Fletcher.
Part of my enjoyment comes from childhood nostalgia as I remember curling up with Mom on the couch watching Murder, She Wrote after church on Sunday nights while munching buttery popcorn. Another part comes from the strange feeling of self-accomplishment when I correctly “solve” the murder half-way through the show. The clues and acting are so ham-handed that a monkey could solve the case, but I feel good about it, nonetheless.
And Angela Lansbury is ever-so-charming that I find myself wishing she were real and that I lived in Cabot Cove, Maine, so we could be neighbors. Of course, considering the high body count in Cabot Cove (hence the many mysteries Jessica has to solve) that probably wouldn’t be the safest course of action.
Recently, I’ve discovered that my (still firmly-entrenched in 80’s nostalgia himself) husband also enjoys my Murder, She Wrote obsession. He’ll often sit happily and watch a few episodes with me. Although, he does give me squinty-eyed looks when I make fun of the clothes and hair. That comes from him growing up in the 80’s and me in the 90’s, of course. He actually wore those clothes and thought they were cool. He probably STILL thinks they are cool.
Either way, it’s a fun way to “knock-off” a Friday night!
Friday, February 23, 2007
Easter Surprise!
Angie stopped by my house last night to pick up her Girl Scout Cookies and delivered an Easter surprise to me while she was there. Her son, Addison (#3 of 5), made me an egg-shaped Easter box, colored the outside, and put a “secret” note inside. When I pulled out the note, on the back of a homework sheet (“So, that’s where his brother’s homework went,” Angie said.), Addison had carefully written, “Yo, you’re the best!”
It was so sweet, and he even spelled Mrs. Soderstrom correctly on the outside of the box. I tell you, that just MADE my day.
Thanks, Addison!
It was so sweet, and he even spelled Mrs. Soderstrom correctly on the outside of the box. I tell you, that just MADE my day.
Thanks, Addison!
Ann-Marie’s Anatomy
I was making a grilled cheese on Monday night when I felt a weird sort of bubble just burst in my heart. It just went “blip” and then it was over. But it freaked me out, since I was on blood pressure medication.
I got in to see the doctor on Wednesday and recounted some of the weird things that have been happening to me since I started the medication. Besides the heart “blip” (which I later learned is called a “heart spasm”), I had been short of breath and experiencing heart burn. When the doctor took my blood pressure again, the numbers were 164/100, even higher than it was before I started the medication. She looked at my chart and just kept shaking her head. “Bad. Bad. Bad. These numbers are all bad. There is not one god number here,” she told me.
Then, when I asked if it was okay to conceive (hey, it could happen!) on this medication, she was like, “Oh, no! I’m so sorry. I totally forgot about that. This medicine is not a good thing to be on if you get pregnant!” So, that was the last straw. She took me off the old med and put me on a new beta-blocker med that it is okay to conceive on and should stop all the ill effects of the previous medication. She thinks my body just had a negative reaction to the drug.
So, now I’m on a beta-blocker (blood pressure), heart burn meds (until it eases up), and glucophage (helps with PCOS and pre-diabetes). I feel like an old woman to be on so many meds at 28! I’m hoping my foray into Weight Watchers will help with the pre-diabetes, but my doctor says the blood pressure medication is probably here to stay permanently!
The good news is that I’ll probably be feeling better on this new medication. Oh, and today, some well-meaning volunteer brought in three boxes of luscious Dunkin’ Donuts, and I told myself to “make a healthy choice” and I didn’t take one! I’m so proud of myself! Also, I’m trying to give up caffeine in all my drinks – so sad, since I LOVE Diet Coke! And, I’m trying to eat better by using some American Heart Association cookbooks I checked out of the library.
I’m trying, and that all I can do! The rest is up to God!
I got in to see the doctor on Wednesday and recounted some of the weird things that have been happening to me since I started the medication. Besides the heart “blip” (which I later learned is called a “heart spasm”), I had been short of breath and experiencing heart burn. When the doctor took my blood pressure again, the numbers were 164/100, even higher than it was before I started the medication. She looked at my chart and just kept shaking her head. “Bad. Bad. Bad. These numbers are all bad. There is not one god number here,” she told me.
Then, when I asked if it was okay to conceive (hey, it could happen!) on this medication, she was like, “Oh, no! I’m so sorry. I totally forgot about that. This medicine is not a good thing to be on if you get pregnant!” So, that was the last straw. She took me off the old med and put me on a new beta-blocker med that it is okay to conceive on and should stop all the ill effects of the previous medication. She thinks my body just had a negative reaction to the drug.
So, now I’m on a beta-blocker (blood pressure), heart burn meds (until it eases up), and glucophage (helps with PCOS and pre-diabetes). I feel like an old woman to be on so many meds at 28! I’m hoping my foray into Weight Watchers will help with the pre-diabetes, but my doctor says the blood pressure medication is probably here to stay permanently!
The good news is that I’ll probably be feeling better on this new medication. Oh, and today, some well-meaning volunteer brought in three boxes of luscious Dunkin’ Donuts, and I told myself to “make a healthy choice” and I didn’t take one! I’m so proud of myself! Also, I’m trying to give up caffeine in all my drinks – so sad, since I LOVE Diet Coke! And, I’m trying to eat better by using some American Heart Association cookbooks I checked out of the library.
I’m trying, and that all I can do! The rest is up to God!
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Good News. But Not That.
When you have been trying to have a baby (like we have for four years and counting), you can never call someone up and say, “Guess what?” Because they will always gulp in a breath of air and bellow out in squeals and giggles “YOU’RE PREGNANT!!!”
Everyone is always so excited, and though they never say it, you can almost hear their thoughts. “Well, thank goodness! I thought it would never happen!” “Finally” “I just knew it would work out.”
And, of course, you are left to deflate the pregnancy balloon.
“Well, no, actually I was just going to tell you that I up found that dollar I was looking for in my fat pants. But, hey, yeah, the pregnancy thing would be good, too. Um, yeah, I gotta go.”
The other day I called Mom up to let her know her Girl Scout Cookies were in, and (stupid me) said, “Guess what?” in an excited tone of voice. I happen to think the chocolaty, minty goodness of Thin Mints CALLS for a little excitement.
Mom proclaimed, “YOU’RE PREGNANT!!!”
Yeah, not so much, Mom. Even the deliciousness of Girl Scout Cookies can’t match up to the hope other people may have that you’re pregnant.
I told her that her Girl Scout Cookies were in, and assured her that if I was, indeed, pregnant, I probably wouldn’t call her from work in the middle of the day to tell her.
Once, I set my cousin Candice up a blind date with a HOT guy Brett and I know. When I called to tell her I had good news, she jumped into the “You’re pregnant!” boat.
No, but there IS this hot guy…
See, the thing is that I’m really okay with not being pregnant yet. Yes, I’d like for it to happen, but I’m really honestly okay with it. I don’t stress out about it anymore. I don’t really even think about it all that often.
But, even with the not thinking about it, I still have the possibility in the back of my mind that I MAY be infertile and may just have to accept that lifestyle. So, while I don’t actively think about it, there are times it pops up to remind me that I am (may be, anyway) a failure when it comes to having kids.
There are these parking spots right in front of our local grocery store that are reserved for “New and Expectant Mothers.” And every time Brett and I would pull into the parking lot, he would jokingly say, “Hey. Are you pregnant? We could park there!”
The first time I laughed, although I didn’t think it was that funny, seeing as how I may never be able to park there. But Brett just thought it was SO funny that he would say it almost every time we went grocery shopping. I finally asked him to stop. I told him that it made me feel bad, like a failure. He said he had only been joking, and I told him I knew that, it was just the way it was.
If we’re supposed to have children, I have the utmost faith in God that He will provide them in His time and His way. I know that.
I just wish other people did, too.
I also wish they’d put a parking space sign up that said, “Hey, you may be infertile, and that’s probably pretty tough, so you can park here as a consolation.”
Everyone is always so excited, and though they never say it, you can almost hear their thoughts. “Well, thank goodness! I thought it would never happen!” “Finally” “I just knew it would work out.”
And, of course, you are left to deflate the pregnancy balloon.
“Well, no, actually I was just going to tell you that I up found that dollar I was looking for in my fat pants. But, hey, yeah, the pregnancy thing would be good, too. Um, yeah, I gotta go.”
The other day I called Mom up to let her know her Girl Scout Cookies were in, and (stupid me) said, “Guess what?” in an excited tone of voice. I happen to think the chocolaty, minty goodness of Thin Mints CALLS for a little excitement.
Mom proclaimed, “YOU’RE PREGNANT!!!”
Yeah, not so much, Mom. Even the deliciousness of Girl Scout Cookies can’t match up to the hope other people may have that you’re pregnant.
I told her that her Girl Scout Cookies were in, and assured her that if I was, indeed, pregnant, I probably wouldn’t call her from work in the middle of the day to tell her.
Once, I set my cousin Candice up a blind date with a HOT guy Brett and I know. When I called to tell her I had good news, she jumped into the “You’re pregnant!” boat.
No, but there IS this hot guy…
See, the thing is that I’m really okay with not being pregnant yet. Yes, I’d like for it to happen, but I’m really honestly okay with it. I don’t stress out about it anymore. I don’t really even think about it all that often.
But, even with the not thinking about it, I still have the possibility in the back of my mind that I MAY be infertile and may just have to accept that lifestyle. So, while I don’t actively think about it, there are times it pops up to remind me that I am (may be, anyway) a failure when it comes to having kids.
There are these parking spots right in front of our local grocery store that are reserved for “New and Expectant Mothers.” And every time Brett and I would pull into the parking lot, he would jokingly say, “Hey. Are you pregnant? We could park there!”
The first time I laughed, although I didn’t think it was that funny, seeing as how I may never be able to park there. But Brett just thought it was SO funny that he would say it almost every time we went grocery shopping. I finally asked him to stop. I told him that it made me feel bad, like a failure. He said he had only been joking, and I told him I knew that, it was just the way it was.
If we’re supposed to have children, I have the utmost faith in God that He will provide them in His time and His way. I know that.
I just wish other people did, too.
I also wish they’d put a parking space sign up that said, “Hey, you may be infertile, and that’s probably pretty tough, so you can park here as a consolation.”
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Murder at Morningstar
It may have been a coincidence, but it seemed like fate, after my post on violence, that our church’s Valentine’s Banquet turned out to have a Murder Mystery theme!
I was telling my corny co-workers about the “Murder at Morningstar” theme, and one of them commented, “Of course, someone is going to die. You’re having it at a nursing home!”
Ha. Ha.
Despite the strange destination, the Hall of World Cultures at Wesley Willows Nursing Home – which turned out to be quite lovely, we had a wonderful time!
Our table featured the Scott, Berryman, and Hayes couples. It was probably just an oversight to seat all the good looking people together. (Smile). Still, we managed to muddle though together!
The whole evening was planned exceptionally well. The room was resplendent in red and white with hand-poured chocolate roses and fresh flower arrangement (which I also found out later were each hand-arranged!). We enjoyed a delicious salad, dinner, and dessert – chocolate raspberry cheesecake – oh. my. yum!
During dinner, each table worked to solve a murder mystery based (loosely) on actual people in the church. It involved some detecting and (hating to boast as I do) I was one of the people who made the discovery of the right fictional “culprit.”
After the mystery was solved, Pastor gave a (struggling with what word to put here, I guess this one works best) convicting challenge on godly marriage.
He had us all laughing when he pointed out that we were saving $50 on a guest speaker. “I’ve been away so long; you can consider me a guest speaker. But you don’t have to pay me an honorarium.”
At that point, Heidi leaned over to me and said, “Sounds like a good gig. I could use $50, maybe I should be a guest speaker?” We laughed together.
Pastor talked about two marriage “impossibilities.” For women, to respect their husbands. Impossible, he pointed out, since men are hard to have any respect for. For men, to always be infatuated with their wives. Impossible, since men are always tempted by the lust of the flesh.
He discussed how we should strive toward achieving these two impossibilities. He also said something profound, at least to me. He pointed out that just because we are married to someone doesn’t mean that we stop treating them like a brother (or sister) in Christ. We are still responsible to treat them with the same love, respect, and admonition as we would any John or Jane Doe Christian.
I hadn’t really thought about that before, and it gave me pause to think. Overall, the challenge was convicting, and I found myself being grateful that we didn’t have a guest speaker for the event.
Afterwards, we were able to talk with several couples and enjoy just being with our brothers and sisters in Christ.
It was a nice evening. Even if someone (thankfully, fictional) had to die!
Sometimes, I think about being on the committee to plan parties and events like this, but then I remember my “curse” of trying to plan parties. If I did it, someone probably would end up dead, purely by accident, of course.
I think I’ll just stick to enjoying the parties, instead.
I was telling my corny co-workers about the “Murder at Morningstar” theme, and one of them commented, “Of course, someone is going to die. You’re having it at a nursing home!”
Ha. Ha.
Despite the strange destination, the Hall of World Cultures at Wesley Willows Nursing Home – which turned out to be quite lovely, we had a wonderful time!
Our table featured the Scott, Berryman, and Hayes couples. It was probably just an oversight to seat all the good looking people together. (Smile). Still, we managed to muddle though together!
The whole evening was planned exceptionally well. The room was resplendent in red and white with hand-poured chocolate roses and fresh flower arrangement (which I also found out later were each hand-arranged!). We enjoyed a delicious salad, dinner, and dessert – chocolate raspberry cheesecake – oh. my. yum!
During dinner, each table worked to solve a murder mystery based (loosely) on actual people in the church. It involved some detecting and (hating to boast as I do) I was one of the people who made the discovery of the right fictional “culprit.”
After the mystery was solved, Pastor gave a (struggling with what word to put here, I guess this one works best) convicting challenge on godly marriage.
He had us all laughing when he pointed out that we were saving $50 on a guest speaker. “I’ve been away so long; you can consider me a guest speaker. But you don’t have to pay me an honorarium.”
At that point, Heidi leaned over to me and said, “Sounds like a good gig. I could use $50, maybe I should be a guest speaker?” We laughed together.
Pastor talked about two marriage “impossibilities.” For women, to respect their husbands. Impossible, he pointed out, since men are hard to have any respect for. For men, to always be infatuated with their wives. Impossible, since men are always tempted by the lust of the flesh.
He discussed how we should strive toward achieving these two impossibilities. He also said something profound, at least to me. He pointed out that just because we are married to someone doesn’t mean that we stop treating them like a brother (or sister) in Christ. We are still responsible to treat them with the same love, respect, and admonition as we would any John or Jane Doe Christian.
I hadn’t really thought about that before, and it gave me pause to think. Overall, the challenge was convicting, and I found myself being grateful that we didn’t have a guest speaker for the event.
Afterwards, we were able to talk with several couples and enjoy just being with our brothers and sisters in Christ.
It was a nice evening. Even if someone (thankfully, fictional) had to die!
Sometimes, I think about being on the committee to plan parties and events like this, but then I remember my “curse” of trying to plan parties. If I did it, someone probably would end up dead, purely by accident, of course.
I think I’ll just stick to enjoying the parties, instead.
Question to the Moms
And just to prove that I don’t come home every Sunday just to complain about silly things, and to show that I really do appreciate my wonderfully-fantastic-in-almost-every-way (really!) church, I will change the subject!
I have a question for my “mom” friends out there.
Except for breastfeeding purposes, is there a reason for a mom to carry around a newborn baby every moment of the day? Is there some sort of attachment being made?
My friends at work and I are wondering about this particular person we know, and I just wondered if we may be missing something. This woman hasn’t gotten a babysitter, even for important events. She brings the newborn everywhere. I was just wondering if maybe she has a good reason. She isn’t breastfeeding, if you were wondering.
Let me know. Our office is curious, and even the moms there are stumped. I’d appreciate your feedback! Thanks!
I have a question for my “mom” friends out there.
Except for breastfeeding purposes, is there a reason for a mom to carry around a newborn baby every moment of the day? Is there some sort of attachment being made?
My friends at work and I are wondering about this particular person we know, and I just wondered if we may be missing something. This woman hasn’t gotten a babysitter, even for important events. She brings the newborn everywhere. I was just wondering if maybe she has a good reason. She isn’t breastfeeding, if you were wondering.
Let me know. Our office is curious, and even the moms there are stumped. I’d appreciate your feedback! Thanks!
The Plumber’s Wife Revisited
The title of this post is based on an earlier entry where I discussed pastors’ wives. My conclusion was that a woman’s, any woman’s, spirituality rests on her own relationship with the Lord, not on her husband’s laurels, not matter how revered he may be.
The comparison I used was that just because a man might be a plumber doesn’t mean his wife automatically knows how to fix a toilet. We must all develop our own spirituality before God. We do not, necessarily, have the same gifts and abilities of our mate.
That said…
Well, it happened again. Pastor said we are having the wife of a Christian College President come and speak at our Ladies Bible Conference. Apparently, the speaker has written several articles, and we are “going to enjoy her immensely.”
Maybe so. I’ll probably like her. I don’t know her, so what I’m about to say is nothing against her personally.
I am just saying that ONCE I would like to have a woman come speak at a Women’s Bible Conference who isn’t married to anyone “churcheously” famous.
I would like to hear from a woman who is married to a typical Joe Schmo like the rest of us. I’d like to hear topics on “How to pray for your husband when he’s acting like a particularly stubborn farm animal.” I’d like to hear illustrations revolving around how to deal spiritually with a husband who won’t grow up or refuses to lead.
How about for those women who have unsaved husbands? Usually those married-to-a-churchy-famous-so-and-so speakers don’t address how to live Christ-like with an unsaved husband. Why would they? THEY don’t have to.
How about topics on “How to be a Christian wife to a husband who wants to go out drinking instead of staying home with his family.” You don’t usually see THAT addressed on the program.
How about someone who has lived in the trenches of a bad or strained marriage? Someone who can commiserate. Say, “I’ve been there. You’ll be okay. God loves you, too.”
Of course, all that, without mentioning the possibility of a woman who is single and is serving the Lord ALL BY HERSELF. I’d sure like to hear from someone like that.
Let’s mix it up a little, people.
The comparison I used was that just because a man might be a plumber doesn’t mean his wife automatically knows how to fix a toilet. We must all develop our own spirituality before God. We do not, necessarily, have the same gifts and abilities of our mate.
That said…
Well, it happened again. Pastor said we are having the wife of a Christian College President come and speak at our Ladies Bible Conference. Apparently, the speaker has written several articles, and we are “going to enjoy her immensely.”
Maybe so. I’ll probably like her. I don’t know her, so what I’m about to say is nothing against her personally.
I am just saying that ONCE I would like to have a woman come speak at a Women’s Bible Conference who isn’t married to anyone “churcheously” famous.
I would like to hear from a woman who is married to a typical Joe Schmo like the rest of us. I’d like to hear topics on “How to pray for your husband when he’s acting like a particularly stubborn farm animal.” I’d like to hear illustrations revolving around how to deal spiritually with a husband who won’t grow up or refuses to lead.
How about for those women who have unsaved husbands? Usually those married-to-a-churchy-famous-so-and-so speakers don’t address how to live Christ-like with an unsaved husband. Why would they? THEY don’t have to.
How about topics on “How to be a Christian wife to a husband who wants to go out drinking instead of staying home with his family.” You don’t usually see THAT addressed on the program.
How about someone who has lived in the trenches of a bad or strained marriage? Someone who can commiserate. Say, “I’ve been there. You’ll be okay. God loves you, too.”
Of course, all that, without mentioning the possibility of a woman who is single and is serving the Lord ALL BY HERSELF. I’d sure like to hear from someone like that.
Let’s mix it up a little, people.
Stand Up for Jesus. And Up. And Up.
I’d like to preface this post by saying that I love my church, so my grumbling is born out of affection. It’s still grumbling, but at least I’m qualifying it! (Smile)
Okay, so I’m going to start by berating myself.
How dare I complain about having to stand for a very long time during a very long prayer on Sunday morning!
Don’t I know what believers in foreign countries, in persecuted countries, have to go through in order to worship God in a congregational setting?
Don’t I know that, in the past, believers stood for the entire service while the pastor sat down to preach?
Don’t I know the important thing is the prayer and not my selfish reaction to having to stand up for an e-x-t-e-n-d-e-d amount of time?
Yes, I do. I DO, OKAY! I do.
It’s just that…we aren’t believers in a foreign country. As a church, we even went through a long debate on whether or not to purchase padded chairs over our beat-up metal folding ones. We decided to purchase the new chairs. This morning, except for the message, my bottom barely had the chance to graze the seat.
Our pastor is exceptionally gifted by God. He prays, preaches, and teaches to glorify God. His expositions are soul-stirring and heart rendering. And one of things we have enjoyed about our church is the sincerity, the dead-on doctrine, and the unapologetic approach to the Word of God.
Pastor can pray eloquently, brutally, or just cry out emotionally to God as he brings our gathering into congregation prayer on Sunday mornings. The result of this pouring out is often that the Sunday morning prayer can exceed up to fifteen minutes.
And somewhere, for some reason, it was decided that we, as a congregation, should stand for the entire prayer.
Sometimes, it’s not so bad. The prayer is a reasonable amount of time. But more often than not, I find myself distracted by the pain in my legs or feet or the rhythmic tapping of the Sunday shoe perched on the child in front of me.
But today’s prayer was l-o-n-g.
By the middle of the prayer, four older women had been forced to sit down. My own husband, suffering from labor intensive back strain, had to relent from the strain of standing up. The brand-new-to-our-church teenager standing next to me kept muttering, “Sheesh, when are we going to sit down?” She even asked her mother (in a not-so-low whisper) that very question mid-prayer.
I had started out the prayer in high spirits. Glad to be in church. Enjoying the prayer. By the middle, I found myself having to focus on each word, so as not to lose concentration. By the end, I had stepped out of my high heel shoes. I shifted from one numb leg to the other.
I found myself listening to the bordering-on-swearing muttering of the teenager at my side. The little kid in front of me was dancing back in forth in tappy Sunday shoes and staring intently at me. Three more people had succumbed to the lure of seats behind them.
I don’t remember what was said after the middle of the prayer. My mind had shifted, despite my best efforts, to other things, mainly the fact that my calves were on fire.
When Pastor finally sounded the Amen, there was a whoosh of relief as we all stumbled backwards to our seats in relief. The teenager, now my comrade-in-arms, muttered “Finally!” and expressed my very own emotion.
Not five minutes later, we were back on our feet for five sing-every-verse song. I didn’t dare look at my teenager, as I was afraid I might burst out laughing at her murderous expression.
Okay, so there I’ve said it.
Remember, I berated myself for being so very selfish to think of my physical being during such a sacred time. I know. I’m a horrible person.
Still, being berated, even it’s by myself, is infinitely more pleasant when I’m sitting down.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Violence Becomes Her
A realization came to me, as it often does, in the midst of the movie theater darkness.
Angie and I spent yesterday evening watching the bloody cop thriller The Departed and then the romantic comedy Music and Lyrics on the big screen. The Departed cast read like a Who’s Who of Hollywood, including Matt Damon, Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Wahlberg, Jack Nicholson, Alec Baldwin, and Martin Sheen. Music and Lyrics had the capable cast of Drew Barrymore, Hugh Grant, and Brad Garrett.
We had a really good time. Angie had a VERY bad week, including car and money troubles. So, she needed to get out, and it had been a while since we’d seen a movie. We ate dinner at Culver’s, watched The Departed at North Towne, then drove to Showplace 14 to watch Music and Lyrics while eating copious amounts of buttery movie theater popcorn and drinking GIANT sodas.
I like hanging out with Angie because she likes movies as much as I do. It’s hard to find someone willing to trek out with you every other week or so and watch a bunch of clunkers before hitting on a golden movie. She’s always up for the challenge, and we both love dissecting the movies for hours afterwards.
We discuss the actors, their other projects, the movie plot, the music, the characters…everything. With her, I don’t feel like it’s a trivial thing, as I know others might try to make me feel. It’s a fun, enjoyable hobby, and (frankly) I feel fortunate to have found someone who likes it as much as I do.
Back to my realization, as I was watching The Departed with Angie, I began to comprehend that I have a weird sort of fascination with violence. Not committing violence, of course, but the portrayal of violence in books, movies, and television.
If you have been around me for very long, you’ve probably heard me say, “If it doesn’t blow up, get chased down, or have a murder mystery involved, I don’t want to watch/read/hear about it!”
That’s kind of a joke, since I read lots of books and watch movies and TV shows that don’t have any violence. BUT many of my favorites are centered around violence.
The Departed is a very violent movie. People get beaten up, shot point blank in the head, and have limbs decapitated all in the name of cinematic glory. The story in The Departed is amazing. I'm not at all surprised it was nominated for an Oscar. There are plot twists and surprises that keep you guessing until the very end. Still, the violence is excessive.
Just like Kill Bill, Vol. 1 & 2. I immensely enjoyed those movies, and they are quite possibly two of the most violent movies ever made.
I don’t know what it is that draws me to the portrayal of violence. Take my favorite book series:
In Death Series (J.D. Robb) – A female cop with a tragic past tracks down serial killers and brings them to justice.
Jack Reacher Series (Lee Child) – An ex-MP travels the world getting caught up on one nefarious scheme after another, always fighting his way out with his fists a variety of firearms.
Alex Delaware Series (Jonathan Kellerman) – A psychiatrist with a penchant for solving mysteries repeatedly finds himself in the midst of sick and twisted police cases.
In movies, I fear I don’t fare much better. Many of my favorites feature violent plots, twists, and turns.
I find myself drawn to portraying violence even in my own writing. My current works in project feature:
Brusied – Two abused foster children trying to escape the clutches of their police officer foster father.
Gangland – A group of white teenagers and children finds themselves in the minority during a gang war between two other ethnic groups.
Jaeger – Two children are raised to become assassins by the world class assassin who saved them from death at the hands of their abusive parents.
Sophia – A wealthy group of professionals hides the deadly secret that binds them and the identity of the man who controls them.
See what I mean!!!
I never could (still can’t) get interested in romantic books – such as Jeanette Okey Dokey, and I’m sorry, but I’ve never, ever found a good Christian fiction writer. Ever. I’ve looked and looked, but no.
Truly great fiction (books, movies, TV) is art. Christian fiction writers tend to sugarcoat everything and that, in my opinion, makes it fluff. I like hard-hitting, heart-pounding, nail-biting suspense in my entertainment. If it doesn’t make your heart race a little, I’m not so sure you’re being entertained!
So, back to my realization, I just wonder at myself sometimes. All my life, I’ve worked not to be cast into a stereotype (although I have put myself there by accident sometimes). I’ve delighted in surprising people with who I am.
People often thought of me (in college and at work, especially) as prim and proper. I dress up and don’t swear, so that automatically means I like light romantic comedies and classical music. I can’t tell you how many people are surprised to learn that I like action and science fiction movies and (of all things!) country music. I played the drums in high school (a lot less exciting than it sounds), but it still shocks people.
Back to violence – real violence is a horrible thing. I’m definitely not advocating for it. But fictional violence, as part of a well written story, even driving the story, seems essential - at some point - to most plots.
So, now you know my strange secret. I hope you won’t judge me. You can look at it as a quirky little personality trait of your otherwise normal friend.
It’s just the way I am. So shoot me.
Angie and I spent yesterday evening watching the bloody cop thriller The Departed and then the romantic comedy Music and Lyrics on the big screen. The Departed cast read like a Who’s Who of Hollywood, including Matt Damon, Leonardo DiCaprio, Mark Wahlberg, Jack Nicholson, Alec Baldwin, and Martin Sheen. Music and Lyrics had the capable cast of Drew Barrymore, Hugh Grant, and Brad Garrett.
We had a really good time. Angie had a VERY bad week, including car and money troubles. So, she needed to get out, and it had been a while since we’d seen a movie. We ate dinner at Culver’s, watched The Departed at North Towne, then drove to Showplace 14 to watch Music and Lyrics while eating copious amounts of buttery movie theater popcorn and drinking GIANT sodas.
I like hanging out with Angie because she likes movies as much as I do. It’s hard to find someone willing to trek out with you every other week or so and watch a bunch of clunkers before hitting on a golden movie. She’s always up for the challenge, and we both love dissecting the movies for hours afterwards.
We discuss the actors, their other projects, the movie plot, the music, the characters…everything. With her, I don’t feel like it’s a trivial thing, as I know others might try to make me feel. It’s a fun, enjoyable hobby, and (frankly) I feel fortunate to have found someone who likes it as much as I do.
Back to my realization, as I was watching The Departed with Angie, I began to comprehend that I have a weird sort of fascination with violence. Not committing violence, of course, but the portrayal of violence in books, movies, and television.
If you have been around me for very long, you’ve probably heard me say, “If it doesn’t blow up, get chased down, or have a murder mystery involved, I don’t want to watch/read/hear about it!”
That’s kind of a joke, since I read lots of books and watch movies and TV shows that don’t have any violence. BUT many of my favorites are centered around violence.
The Departed is a very violent movie. People get beaten up, shot point blank in the head, and have limbs decapitated all in the name of cinematic glory. The story in The Departed is amazing. I'm not at all surprised it was nominated for an Oscar. There are plot twists and surprises that keep you guessing until the very end. Still, the violence is excessive.
Just like Kill Bill, Vol. 1 & 2. I immensely enjoyed those movies, and they are quite possibly two of the most violent movies ever made.
I don’t know what it is that draws me to the portrayal of violence. Take my favorite book series:
In Death Series (J.D. Robb) – A female cop with a tragic past tracks down serial killers and brings them to justice.
Jack Reacher Series (Lee Child) – An ex-MP travels the world getting caught up on one nefarious scheme after another, always fighting his way out with his fists a variety of firearms.
Alex Delaware Series (Jonathan Kellerman) – A psychiatrist with a penchant for solving mysteries repeatedly finds himself in the midst of sick and twisted police cases.
In movies, I fear I don’t fare much better. Many of my favorites feature violent plots, twists, and turns.
I find myself drawn to portraying violence even in my own writing. My current works in project feature:
Brusied – Two abused foster children trying to escape the clutches of their police officer foster father.
Gangland – A group of white teenagers and children finds themselves in the minority during a gang war between two other ethnic groups.
Jaeger – Two children are raised to become assassins by the world class assassin who saved them from death at the hands of their abusive parents.
Sophia – A wealthy group of professionals hides the deadly secret that binds them and the identity of the man who controls them.
See what I mean!!!
I never could (still can’t) get interested in romantic books – such as Jeanette Okey Dokey, and I’m sorry, but I’ve never, ever found a good Christian fiction writer. Ever. I’ve looked and looked, but no.
Truly great fiction (books, movies, TV) is art. Christian fiction writers tend to sugarcoat everything and that, in my opinion, makes it fluff. I like hard-hitting, heart-pounding, nail-biting suspense in my entertainment. If it doesn’t make your heart race a little, I’m not so sure you’re being entertained!
So, back to my realization, I just wonder at myself sometimes. All my life, I’ve worked not to be cast into a stereotype (although I have put myself there by accident sometimes). I’ve delighted in surprising people with who I am.
People often thought of me (in college and at work, especially) as prim and proper. I dress up and don’t swear, so that automatically means I like light romantic comedies and classical music. I can’t tell you how many people are surprised to learn that I like action and science fiction movies and (of all things!) country music. I played the drums in high school (a lot less exciting than it sounds), but it still shocks people.
Back to violence – real violence is a horrible thing. I’m definitely not advocating for it. But fictional violence, as part of a well written story, even driving the story, seems essential - at some point - to most plots.
So, now you know my strange secret. I hope you won’t judge me. You can look at it as a quirky little personality trait of your otherwise normal friend.
It’s just the way I am. So shoot me.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
A Splendiferous Snowfall
I love winter. I love the snow. I love the white. I love the cold.
I can understand how weather affects people’s moods. I, myself, hate the summer months.
During the summer, I have to deal with the heat and humidity. I sweat like a pig under the hot sun. I wilt in the humidity. I live only for the air-conditioned bliss of “the inside” during those hellish months. Seriously, I believe that’s why when God created Hell, He made it a place of unbelievable heat, fire, and flames. I’m not making light of Hell; I’m just proving the correlation that “hot” can be profoundly unpleasant.
Think about it. Would you rather freeze or burn to death? Hmm. Tough choice. Me? I’ll take that key to the walk-in freezer and settle down for the ultimate long nap.
Summer also brings about the “taking off” phase. People have to take off clothes, wear fewer clothes, to be more comfortable. I, myself, would rather keep it all on. Fewer clothes mean more of me showing, and for now, I think I do society a favor the more clothes I keep on.
In the winter, you get to add clothes! You wear coats, mittens, scarves, and hats. I love adding clothes. Then, I can say, “Hey, I didn’t gain five pounds! That’s just the bulk from my coat!” Even when it’s not.
My grandmother agrees with me. She’s always told me that she loves winter, too. She loves curling up under a blanket with a cup of hot cocoa and watching the snow fall outside the window.
Of course, Grandma doesn’t drive, so that probably has something to do with it.
I drive. And today, we are expecting 3-6 inches of the white stuff to continue falling from this morning to this evening. A lot of the schools are closed. But, unfortunately for me and my co-workers, the Rockford Public Schools are NOT closed. One of the best things about my job is that when the Rockford Public Schools close due to inclement weather, so do we. But this morning, no such luck.
So, I made the trek to work in the barely plowed roads buried in the flurry of drifting and blowing snow. I made it safely, but my morning commute doubled from 30 minutes to an hour. Even after driving on the unplowed roads, almost sliding through an intersection, and being road bullied by truck people with all wheel drive, I still love winter.
I love the refreshing cold snap when I walk outside. I love that my make-up doesn’t slide off my face or my hair go limp like it does in the summer. I love that there are no lawns to mow and no ragweed to make me sneeze like Chihuahua in heat.
I may be in the minority. But I love winter. I love the snow. I love the white. I love the cold.
Bring it on.
I can understand how weather affects people’s moods. I, myself, hate the summer months.
During the summer, I have to deal with the heat and humidity. I sweat like a pig under the hot sun. I wilt in the humidity. I live only for the air-conditioned bliss of “the inside” during those hellish months. Seriously, I believe that’s why when God created Hell, He made it a place of unbelievable heat, fire, and flames. I’m not making light of Hell; I’m just proving the correlation that “hot” can be profoundly unpleasant.
Think about it. Would you rather freeze or burn to death? Hmm. Tough choice. Me? I’ll take that key to the walk-in freezer and settle down for the ultimate long nap.
Summer also brings about the “taking off” phase. People have to take off clothes, wear fewer clothes, to be more comfortable. I, myself, would rather keep it all on. Fewer clothes mean more of me showing, and for now, I think I do society a favor the more clothes I keep on.
In the winter, you get to add clothes! You wear coats, mittens, scarves, and hats. I love adding clothes. Then, I can say, “Hey, I didn’t gain five pounds! That’s just the bulk from my coat!” Even when it’s not.
My grandmother agrees with me. She’s always told me that she loves winter, too. She loves curling up under a blanket with a cup of hot cocoa and watching the snow fall outside the window.
Of course, Grandma doesn’t drive, so that probably has something to do with it.
I drive. And today, we are expecting 3-6 inches of the white stuff to continue falling from this morning to this evening. A lot of the schools are closed. But, unfortunately for me and my co-workers, the Rockford Public Schools are NOT closed. One of the best things about my job is that when the Rockford Public Schools close due to inclement weather, so do we. But this morning, no such luck.
So, I made the trek to work in the barely plowed roads buried in the flurry of drifting and blowing snow. I made it safely, but my morning commute doubled from 30 minutes to an hour. Even after driving on the unplowed roads, almost sliding through an intersection, and being road bullied by truck people with all wheel drive, I still love winter.
I love the refreshing cold snap when I walk outside. I love that my make-up doesn’t slide off my face or my hair go limp like it does in the summer. I love that there are no lawns to mow and no ragweed to make me sneeze like Chihuahua in heat.
I may be in the minority. But I love winter. I love the snow. I love the white. I love the cold.
Bring it on.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Mind over Mentor
I still remember it like it was yesterday. A group of us women from Windsor (back when we all still attended the church) had gotten together for a fun “girls’ night in.” We were sitting on a living room floor and going around the room, each of us talking about prayer requests in our lives.
When it was her turn, one of the women, probably about seven or eight years older than me, talked about how much she was learning from the older women in the group. She talked about how much she appreciated them sharing their experiences and how much she looked up to them.
Then came the moment of surprise.
She looked directly at me and said, “And it’s wonderful that I get to be a mentor to younger women.”
I was so surprised. I even looked behind me to be absolutely sure she was talking to me. I mean, surely, she couldn’t be talking to me!
It wasn’t that I didn’t admire and respect this woman. In fact, we were friends. It wasn’t that at all. It was just that I had never considered her (or ANY woman other than my mother) as a mentor. This particular woman had made choices I didn’t respect, and I had no desire to emulate her or her life.
In truth, I was a little offended she’d even said it. I felt like it was a slight – like she thought I NEEDED a mentor. Mentally, I was like, “Well, I don’t, and even if I did, YOU, my friend, would NOT be my top candidate.”
I sounded off to Angie about it for a long time. Poor thing. She finally told me I just needed to let it go. The woman, we both knew, hadn’t meant anything by it. She was just deluded in her thinking, and probably thought I would be honored to be her protégé.
After that incident, even after I “let go” (thanks, Angie!), I found myself thinking about mentors.
I know God blessed me with amazing parents, and (truth be told) I’ve never had to look any farther than my own mother for the inspiration and example to live a balanced, godly life.
However, I know it’s not that way for everyone. A lot of people didn’t have the same kind of parents I did. Those people DID have to look elsewhere for mentors.
I know my Dad’s mentor was his pastor, Dr. Rowe, the man who helped Dad get to Bible college and on his feet after his tragic home life exploded.
In the professional world, it’s not unusual for people to have mentors. Usually people higher up in the corporate world who have more experience and are willing to share it with those just starting off. I even had the good fortune to start off with a GREAT professional mentor at my first job as a PR Intern in Chicago.
But the truth of the matter is that I’m not all that sure that I would ever want a “mentor” per say. I think having a mentor insinuates that you are in some way putting that person on a pedestal. And we all know what happens when you put any human on a pedestal – they fall off. And usually not gracefully.
So, instead of mentors, I think I’d like to believe in the power of good friends with good advice. People who share your same human frailties but are there to help, advise, and sometimes just be your sounding board.
There are women I admire. After all, what kind of quasi-feminist could I be, if I didn’t look up to accomplished women? (Smile) In these women, I see character traits and godly abilities (some natural, some gleaned through years of trials) I can aspire to.
In this humble little post, I’d like to acknowledge some of the people, women in this case, who made a difference in my life and the character traits I admire in them. I wouldn’t call them mentors, but I’d definitely call them friends.
Grandma – I think the most amazing thing about Grandma is her ability to just listen and not get involved in or judgmental about other people’s problems. She’s there to listen and give advice, but never to judge.
Aunt Helen – My great aunt was a sparkling light. Everywhere she went, she just spread God’s love in huge, liberal doses.
Aunt Jan – She manages to be spiritual without completely losing her sense of humor.
Aunt Kathy – My second mother taught me all about being hospitable and accepting of everyone.
Jean – My mother-in-law defined “a saint” in so many ways. She was selfless, loving, and unbelievably kind.
Tania – If I was the balloon, Tania was my string and satin bow tie, allowing me to float with my head in the clouds without ever having to leave the ground. She has the amazing gift of friendship and forgiveness.
Charity – My practical cousin has been the sister I never had. She keeps me grounded, honest, and calls me on it when I start to exaggerate anything. Plus, she rolls her eyes better than anyone in the world.
Colleen – If they really want to bring peace to the Middle East, they should send Colleen. She’s been a peacekeeper for as long as I’ve known her. Quietly holding to her own convictions without ever judging others.
Candice – I’ve always admired how Candice can be herself with anyone. She doesn’t play games or try to be anyone other than her bright, outgoing, vivacious self. Plus, she LIKES getting in trouble with me!
Jennittia – She may be tiny and blonde, but I like her anyway. She was a campaigning feminist with me (in the old days). She dedicated herself to overcoming the difficulties life had sent her way with a godly spirit that I still admire. She has success in life, but it didn’t come easy!
Kelly – Ah, yes, the only person I have ever been with 24/7 and never, ever got tired of or bored with. I have never laughed so hard, or so long with anyone in my life.
Jeanette – She taught me that a woman can seek God’s will, find answers in His word, and still be up for eating double chocolate cake at midnight.
October – So many good qualities! My favorite has to be her gift of loving and caring about the unlovable. Such as yours truly. Along with everybody in every tiny dive and diner in Chicago!
Angie – I’m going to selfishly say that my favorite thing about Angie is…that I feel like I’m important to her. She’s one of those rare friends who manage to balance her responsibility to her family (of seven) with her ability to put effort into maintaining our friendship. Angie makes time for me. She truly makes me feel like I’m special. I know she’s always there for me, and that means more than my meager words can ever say.
Dr. De Rosset – My “Message Prep for Women” professor in college taught me that God loves me as a person, that God loves women just the same as men, and that I will forever be equal in His eyes. Still a sinner, saved by grace.
MJ – My hilarious, wonderful boss in Chicago was hardly godly, not a Christian, by she taught me everything I needed to know about the seedy underbelly of life in the corporate world – all with a great sarcasm I came to adopt as my own.
Linda – My cousin Aaron married an amazing woman. I look up to her because of her…well, I’m just not sure how to say it. I guess because Linda is one of those people who I can be completely myself around. This may (NOT) come as a surprise to you, but some people think I’m loud, obnoxious, and completely not spiritual enough to be a “good” Christian wife. I say the wrong thing at the wrong time. I “make light” of things I shouldn’t. I’m sarcastic. Many people roll their eyes to the heavens and say, “That’s Ann-Marie for you!” But not Linda. With her, I can just be me, and feel loved, accepted, and valued. I hope I can make other women feel that way some day.
Carleen – She’s the truth tester of my life. Carleen isn’t afraid to tell me the truth, even when it’s the last thing I want to hear. She’s courageous enough to be honest, and that’s a quality I want in a friend.
And, I saved the best for last. Of course, my Mom isn’t perfect, but in my book, she comes pretty close. I hope each day I am becoming more like her. I hope someday someone thinks that I’m “just like her mom.” That would be the highest compliment I could ever receive.
Truth be told, my mom would never want me to be like her. She would want me to be like Christ. So, by striving for that, just like Mom does every day, hopefully, I’ll grow to be like her, too.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Who needs a mentor when I’ve got my mother?
When it was her turn, one of the women, probably about seven or eight years older than me, talked about how much she was learning from the older women in the group. She talked about how much she appreciated them sharing their experiences and how much she looked up to them.
Then came the moment of surprise.
She looked directly at me and said, “And it’s wonderful that I get to be a mentor to younger women.”
I was so surprised. I even looked behind me to be absolutely sure she was talking to me. I mean, surely, she couldn’t be talking to me!
It wasn’t that I didn’t admire and respect this woman. In fact, we were friends. It wasn’t that at all. It was just that I had never considered her (or ANY woman other than my mother) as a mentor. This particular woman had made choices I didn’t respect, and I had no desire to emulate her or her life.
In truth, I was a little offended she’d even said it. I felt like it was a slight – like she thought I NEEDED a mentor. Mentally, I was like, “Well, I don’t, and even if I did, YOU, my friend, would NOT be my top candidate.”
I sounded off to Angie about it for a long time. Poor thing. She finally told me I just needed to let it go. The woman, we both knew, hadn’t meant anything by it. She was just deluded in her thinking, and probably thought I would be honored to be her protégé.
After that incident, even after I “let go” (thanks, Angie!), I found myself thinking about mentors.
I know God blessed me with amazing parents, and (truth be told) I’ve never had to look any farther than my own mother for the inspiration and example to live a balanced, godly life.
However, I know it’s not that way for everyone. A lot of people didn’t have the same kind of parents I did. Those people DID have to look elsewhere for mentors.
I know my Dad’s mentor was his pastor, Dr. Rowe, the man who helped Dad get to Bible college and on his feet after his tragic home life exploded.
In the professional world, it’s not unusual for people to have mentors. Usually people higher up in the corporate world who have more experience and are willing to share it with those just starting off. I even had the good fortune to start off with a GREAT professional mentor at my first job as a PR Intern in Chicago.
But the truth of the matter is that I’m not all that sure that I would ever want a “mentor” per say. I think having a mentor insinuates that you are in some way putting that person on a pedestal. And we all know what happens when you put any human on a pedestal – they fall off. And usually not gracefully.
So, instead of mentors, I think I’d like to believe in the power of good friends with good advice. People who share your same human frailties but are there to help, advise, and sometimes just be your sounding board.
There are women I admire. After all, what kind of quasi-feminist could I be, if I didn’t look up to accomplished women? (Smile) In these women, I see character traits and godly abilities (some natural, some gleaned through years of trials) I can aspire to.
In this humble little post, I’d like to acknowledge some of the people, women in this case, who made a difference in my life and the character traits I admire in them. I wouldn’t call them mentors, but I’d definitely call them friends.
Grandma – I think the most amazing thing about Grandma is her ability to just listen and not get involved in or judgmental about other people’s problems. She’s there to listen and give advice, but never to judge.
Aunt Helen – My great aunt was a sparkling light. Everywhere she went, she just spread God’s love in huge, liberal doses.
Aunt Jan – She manages to be spiritual without completely losing her sense of humor.
Aunt Kathy – My second mother taught me all about being hospitable and accepting of everyone.
Jean – My mother-in-law defined “a saint” in so many ways. She was selfless, loving, and unbelievably kind.
Tania – If I was the balloon, Tania was my string and satin bow tie, allowing me to float with my head in the clouds without ever having to leave the ground. She has the amazing gift of friendship and forgiveness.
Charity – My practical cousin has been the sister I never had. She keeps me grounded, honest, and calls me on it when I start to exaggerate anything. Plus, she rolls her eyes better than anyone in the world.
Colleen – If they really want to bring peace to the Middle East, they should send Colleen. She’s been a peacekeeper for as long as I’ve known her. Quietly holding to her own convictions without ever judging others.
Candice – I’ve always admired how Candice can be herself with anyone. She doesn’t play games or try to be anyone other than her bright, outgoing, vivacious self. Plus, she LIKES getting in trouble with me!
Jennittia – She may be tiny and blonde, but I like her anyway. She was a campaigning feminist with me (in the old days). She dedicated herself to overcoming the difficulties life had sent her way with a godly spirit that I still admire. She has success in life, but it didn’t come easy!
Kelly – Ah, yes, the only person I have ever been with 24/7 and never, ever got tired of or bored with. I have never laughed so hard, or so long with anyone in my life.
Jeanette – She taught me that a woman can seek God’s will, find answers in His word, and still be up for eating double chocolate cake at midnight.
October – So many good qualities! My favorite has to be her gift of loving and caring about the unlovable. Such as yours truly. Along with everybody in every tiny dive and diner in Chicago!
Angie – I’m going to selfishly say that my favorite thing about Angie is…that I feel like I’m important to her. She’s one of those rare friends who manage to balance her responsibility to her family (of seven) with her ability to put effort into maintaining our friendship. Angie makes time for me. She truly makes me feel like I’m special. I know she’s always there for me, and that means more than my meager words can ever say.
Dr. De Rosset – My “Message Prep for Women” professor in college taught me that God loves me as a person, that God loves women just the same as men, and that I will forever be equal in His eyes. Still a sinner, saved by grace.
MJ – My hilarious, wonderful boss in Chicago was hardly godly, not a Christian, by she taught me everything I needed to know about the seedy underbelly of life in the corporate world – all with a great sarcasm I came to adopt as my own.
Linda – My cousin Aaron married an amazing woman. I look up to her because of her…well, I’m just not sure how to say it. I guess because Linda is one of those people who I can be completely myself around. This may (NOT) come as a surprise to you, but some people think I’m loud, obnoxious, and completely not spiritual enough to be a “good” Christian wife. I say the wrong thing at the wrong time. I “make light” of things I shouldn’t. I’m sarcastic. Many people roll their eyes to the heavens and say, “That’s Ann-Marie for you!” But not Linda. With her, I can just be me, and feel loved, accepted, and valued. I hope I can make other women feel that way some day.
Carleen – She’s the truth tester of my life. Carleen isn’t afraid to tell me the truth, even when it’s the last thing I want to hear. She’s courageous enough to be honest, and that’s a quality I want in a friend.
And, I saved the best for last. Of course, my Mom isn’t perfect, but in my book, she comes pretty close. I hope each day I am becoming more like her. I hope someday someone thinks that I’m “just like her mom.” That would be the highest compliment I could ever receive.
Truth be told, my mom would never want me to be like her. She would want me to be like Christ. So, by striving for that, just like Mom does every day, hopefully, I’ll grow to be like her, too.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again. Who needs a mentor when I’ve got my mother?
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Doing Something Nice
I have few talents.
I know that comes as NO surprise to those of you who know me well, but it’s true.
The majority of my talent is in expression. I love to write, and it is one of the ways I can do something nice for someone. In fact, I love using my “gift” to encourage others. I can’t make stationery, candles, or scrapbooks, but I sure can pick out a nice card! And write in it! Ha!
Actually, if you know me at all, you know I am a stationary-buying fanatic! So, why am I telling you all this?
For years, I have sent personally hand-written cards, notes, and letter to family and friends. It is one of my favorite things to do. In the wake of e-technology, I found myself relying more on my internet connection than on paper and pens. A recent Hallmark card purchase spurred me into writing an old-fashioned note, inside an old-fashioned card.
It all happened when I chose a Valentine’s card for Brett. I found it at the grocery store (of all places!) and it just could not have BEEN more perfect! The front of the card was COVERED in silver rabbit silhouettes with a tiny, red foil heart half hidden in the middle. The inside sentiment reads, “You’re one in a million…and I like that! Happy Valentine’s Day!” Well, with our shared love of bunnies, I just had to get it!
After a while, I started thinking how perfect that card would be for Susan (Peyton’s foster mom), Michelle (Hannah’s foster mom), and Lois and Joan (Chicago HRS staff).
So, I decided to go back and purchase three more of the same card. I got a little panicked when I stopped by a Hallmark store and couldn’t find the card. I went back to the grocery store, and I couldn’t find it anywhere on the rack. As I felt my panic building (as you can tell, I REALLY wanted to do this), I prayed, “Lord, if it is your will for me to do this, please show me the card.” Proving yet again that He is in the details of our lives, I opened my eyes and saw a small stack of that very card in the WRONG slot. There were exactly THREE left. It amazes me how God provides even down to the smallest thing.
A little while afterwards, I picked up our developed film from CVS, and there was an adorable photo of Hannah and Peyton sitting head-to-head with their bodies comfortably “flopped” to either side. I took it over to the photo machine, and (thanks to modern technology) created four duplicates with an adorable “Love is Forever” border. I wrote notes and slipped a photo inside each of the three cards; I dropped them off in the mail today! Of course, I kept the fourth photo for our fridge!
So, three surprise Happy Valentine’s Day cards are on their way! I was surprised how good it made me feel to do something nice for someone. Something that took some doing - running around and making the effort to encourage and affirm someone!
As always, in the end, doing something nice for someone else ends up making ME feel pretty good, too!
I know that comes as NO surprise to those of you who know me well, but it’s true.
The majority of my talent is in expression. I love to write, and it is one of the ways I can do something nice for someone. In fact, I love using my “gift” to encourage others. I can’t make stationery, candles, or scrapbooks, but I sure can pick out a nice card! And write in it! Ha!
Actually, if you know me at all, you know I am a stationary-buying fanatic! So, why am I telling you all this?
For years, I have sent personally hand-written cards, notes, and letter to family and friends. It is one of my favorite things to do. In the wake of e-technology, I found myself relying more on my internet connection than on paper and pens. A recent Hallmark card purchase spurred me into writing an old-fashioned note, inside an old-fashioned card.
It all happened when I chose a Valentine’s card for Brett. I found it at the grocery store (of all places!) and it just could not have BEEN more perfect! The front of the card was COVERED in silver rabbit silhouettes with a tiny, red foil heart half hidden in the middle. The inside sentiment reads, “You’re one in a million…and I like that! Happy Valentine’s Day!” Well, with our shared love of bunnies, I just had to get it!
After a while, I started thinking how perfect that card would be for Susan (Peyton’s foster mom), Michelle (Hannah’s foster mom), and Lois and Joan (Chicago HRS staff).
So, I decided to go back and purchase three more of the same card. I got a little panicked when I stopped by a Hallmark store and couldn’t find the card. I went back to the grocery store, and I couldn’t find it anywhere on the rack. As I felt my panic building (as you can tell, I REALLY wanted to do this), I prayed, “Lord, if it is your will for me to do this, please show me the card.” Proving yet again that He is in the details of our lives, I opened my eyes and saw a small stack of that very card in the WRONG slot. There were exactly THREE left. It amazes me how God provides even down to the smallest thing.
A little while afterwards, I picked up our developed film from CVS, and there was an adorable photo of Hannah and Peyton sitting head-to-head with their bodies comfortably “flopped” to either side. I took it over to the photo machine, and (thanks to modern technology) created four duplicates with an adorable “Love is Forever” border. I wrote notes and slipped a photo inside each of the three cards; I dropped them off in the mail today! Of course, I kept the fourth photo for our fridge!
So, three surprise Happy Valentine’s Day cards are on their way! I was surprised how good it made me feel to do something nice for someone. Something that took some doing - running around and making the effort to encourage and affirm someone!
As always, in the end, doing something nice for someone else ends up making ME feel pretty good, too!
Last Night on a Very Special Episode…
Okay, so I know I just posted an entry on how television is ruining my life, but last night I watched a GREAT episode of Criminal Minds!
One of the FBI team was kidnapped by a serial killer with THREE personalities. The whole thing was entrenched with biblical references and (actual) nail-biting suspense!
If you’ve never watched Criminal Minds, you have GOT to check it out. This episode was SO good; it made me glad to own a TV!
One of the FBI team was kidnapped by a serial killer with THREE personalities. The whole thing was entrenched with biblical references and (actual) nail-biting suspense!
If you’ve never watched Criminal Minds, you have GOT to check it out. This episode was SO good; it made me glad to own a TV!
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
The Smallest Easter Eggs
When I was a little girl, my dad used to come in and tell me a bedtime story every night. He made up his own stories, and I can tell you (now) I wish I had thought to turn on a tape recorder back then. His stories were funny, sweet, silly, and (often) came with a moral.
But on several occasions, Dad was simply exhausted. So, very rarely, he would tell me a short story with absolutely NO point, just so I could go to sleep (and then, most likely, so did he).
In particular, I remember one very short story he told me. I don’t remember the entire story, but I remember the “gist.” It was about a poor family who didn’t have any money to celebrate Easter but purchased a bunny to bolster their Easter spirit. And at the very end of the story was the punch line – “Hey, look at those! They must be the world’s smallest Easter eggs. I wonder why they’re round.”
Dad laughed hysterically (I think he was REALLY tired). Mom chuckled. And I, well, I didn’t get it!
Now, I do! Rabbits…well, let’s just say they leave a LOT of little Easter eggs!
Thankfully, my bunnies are litter box trained. Rabbit litter boxes aren’t like cat litter boxes. Rabbit litter boxes are lined with newspaper and fresh grass hay.
So why am I telling you all this? Just so you know that all the little “spots” you see on the floor in the photos below are not “little Easter eggs.” Those are the pellets and dry food we give the bunnies on top of their twice-daily fresh veggies!
I just didn’t want you to think badly of my very-well-litter-box-trained rabbits!
But on several occasions, Dad was simply exhausted. So, very rarely, he would tell me a short story with absolutely NO point, just so I could go to sleep (and then, most likely, so did he).
In particular, I remember one very short story he told me. I don’t remember the entire story, but I remember the “gist.” It was about a poor family who didn’t have any money to celebrate Easter but purchased a bunny to bolster their Easter spirit. And at the very end of the story was the punch line – “Hey, look at those! They must be the world’s smallest Easter eggs. I wonder why they’re round.”
Dad laughed hysterically (I think he was REALLY tired). Mom chuckled. And I, well, I didn’t get it!
Now, I do! Rabbits…well, let’s just say they leave a LOT of little Easter eggs!
Thankfully, my bunnies are litter box trained. Rabbit litter boxes aren’t like cat litter boxes. Rabbit litter boxes are lined with newspaper and fresh grass hay.
So why am I telling you all this? Just so you know that all the little “spots” you see on the floor in the photos below are not “little Easter eggs.” Those are the pellets and dry food we give the bunnies on top of their twice-daily fresh veggies!
I just didn’t want you to think badly of my very-well-litter-box-trained rabbits!
In Memory of Jean
Many of you know how close I was to Brett's mom, Jean. It came as quite a surprise to us, but not to God, when He decided to take her home on December 9, 2005. This past December, 2006, we all gathered to remember a godly woman, wife, mother, mother-in-law, grandmother, sister, aunt, and friend. We also visited the cemetery to look at the beautiful grave marker Brett's Dad had created to commemorate an amazing woman.
Monday, February 05, 2007
The Sunday Comic
Chris and Margaret, our church’s Music Minister and his wife, are two of the nicest people I have ever met. When Brett and I started attending our church, they took a special interest in us. They invited us over and were very kind and thoughtful toward us. For a while, we thought it was because we were new and perhaps we had been “assigned” to them. But, after a couple of months, we realized they were just like that – nice.
They are nice to everyone without being one of those cloying, sweet couples that make you want to make a break for the door. Sincerely nice and yet completely human and down to earth.
This Sunday, we had a guest speaker. He and his wife work on the front lines in persecuted countries to free missionaries who are unjustly accused, imprisoned, and/or tortured. After the service, I found myself standing by the special speaker’s wife, my husband, and Chris.
Brett and Chris were making plans to get together later in the week, and Chris made a joke about Brett having to check with “the boss.” Brett makes that same joke all the time – “I’ll just have to check with “the boss.” Ha. Ha.
There are days I wish I was the boss, let me tell you.
Anyway, I laughed and said something along the lines of “I wish I were the boss. Ha! Ha!” Being as we were at church, I didn’t want to let on towards my egalitarian leanings.
The special speaker’s wife stepped in and said, “I’m just so glad to be submissive to my husband. I’m only responsible to follow him, but my husband is responsible to follow God.”
(Picture me mentally rolling my eyes in my head while nodding politely on the outside.)
Anyway, Chris had a great comeback (truly funny). He said, “Well, I don’t know. I think I’d rather follow God than some guy who doesn’t know where he’s going!”
We all laughed (although I did notice the special speaker’s wife looked a little shocked that a man made a joke against submission).
Then Chris made another joke.
He said, “I’ve heard it quoted that submission is simply ducking so that God can deck your husband.”
I laughed all the way home.
I’m definitely using that quote to break the tension the next time someone goes off on a submission fueled rant.
They are nice to everyone without being one of those cloying, sweet couples that make you want to make a break for the door. Sincerely nice and yet completely human and down to earth.
This Sunday, we had a guest speaker. He and his wife work on the front lines in persecuted countries to free missionaries who are unjustly accused, imprisoned, and/or tortured. After the service, I found myself standing by the special speaker’s wife, my husband, and Chris.
Brett and Chris were making plans to get together later in the week, and Chris made a joke about Brett having to check with “the boss.” Brett makes that same joke all the time – “I’ll just have to check with “the boss.” Ha. Ha.
There are days I wish I was the boss, let me tell you.
Anyway, I laughed and said something along the lines of “I wish I were the boss. Ha! Ha!” Being as we were at church, I didn’t want to let on towards my egalitarian leanings.
The special speaker’s wife stepped in and said, “I’m just so glad to be submissive to my husband. I’m only responsible to follow him, but my husband is responsible to follow God.”
(Picture me mentally rolling my eyes in my head while nodding politely on the outside.)
Anyway, Chris had a great comeback (truly funny). He said, “Well, I don’t know. I think I’d rather follow God than some guy who doesn’t know where he’s going!”
We all laughed (although I did notice the special speaker’s wife looked a little shocked that a man made a joke against submission).
Then Chris made another joke.
He said, “I’ve heard it quoted that submission is simply ducking so that God can deck your husband.”
I laughed all the way home.
I’m definitely using that quote to break the tension the next time someone goes off on a submission fueled rant.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Perpetuating the Stereotype
There are days when I feel I would not be an ideal mother. There are days when small children, particularly small children who are misbehaving or being loud, really bug me to death.
I confessed this to my friend Julie, who has two small boys of her own. Julie told me I am not crazy or weird to feel this way. “Even when you’re a mom,” she explained. “You will still find other people’s children annoying, whiny, and just plain irritating.”
I appreciated her validation beyond words, because I was starting to feel like a rotten person.
The truth of the matter is that I like well-behaved kids. There I said it. I have been in the presence of well-behaved children, and I’ve really enjoyed getting to know their unique view on the world.
Now, I know I have no room to talk when it comes to parenting and raising children. I don’t have any, so I speak not from the voice of experience.
I can, however, speak from the voice of a normal person just trying to enjoy a meal out.
Today, my husband took me out for a nice lunch at Olive Garden. We’ve both been super busy this week, so all we wanted to do was sit back, relax, and talk. We were seated in front of a young couple with a young daughter.
If this child had a volume button, it was stuck on LOUD. Her parents made several efforts to shush her, and then (instead of leaving which we all wanted them to do – which would have been the right thing – the polite thing – to do) just gave up and let the child shriek. Here is a replay of the conversation:
“MOMMY!”
“Shh, honey, what?”
“PUT ME DOWN! I WANT DADDY TO HOLD ME!”
“Okay, go around the table to Daddy.”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
“I thought you wanted Daddy to hold you.”
“NOOOOOOOOOO! I WANT YOU TO HOLD ME.”
“But I am holding you honey.”
“I WANT DADDY TO HOLD ME!”
(extremely loud grunting as child tries to escape mother’s grasp)
“Honey, come out from under the table.”
“NOOOOOOOOOO, DADDY!”
“Did you just say ‘no’ to Daddy?”
“YESSSSSSSSSS! NOOOOOOOOOO TO DADDY!
“You shouldn’t say ‘no’ to Daddy.”
“NOOOOOOOOO DADDY!
“That’s not being very nice, honey. Come out from under the table, please?
“I WANT YOU TO HOLD ME!”
“Okay, just come out from under the table.”
“OKAY! ICE CREAM NOW!”
“Okay, you can have some ice cram. Miss! Miss! Can we have some ice cream?
“ICE CREAM NOW! ICE CREAM NOW! NOW! NOW! NOW!
“Honey, we have to wait for the waitress to come back.”
“NO! NOW!!”
Well, it just went on and on like that. Brett and I could hardly hear ourselves think, let alone talk. And I saw other diners giving them the stink eye. Although they seemed oblivious.
I think the right thing to do would have been to leave once they realized they couldn’t keep their daughter under control. Or, in anticipation, they should have not brought their daughter to a nice place like Olive Garden. They would have been infinitely more comfortable (as would the rest of us) if they’d visited a McDonald’s Play Land instead.
The Olive Garden is a nice place, not just the food and service, also the atmosphere. This, in my opinion, doesn’t mean having to strain over the noise from yelling children, just to hear the dinner specials.
Okay, I get it. Kids don’t always behave. I’m sure I didn’t all the time either, although I’m pretty sure my parents would have put the kibosh on a restaurant scene like that. However, why do I have to pay for parents’ inability to discipline or control their children? I didn’t have the kids. Why am I being punished, you know?
It’s SO frustrating. Mainly because you know what you’re “supposed” to do. You’re supposed to look like, “Oh, gosh! Too bad! Hey, it’s okay. Did somebody miss naptime? They’re just kids being kids. Children are so precious. Gosh, are they CUTE! Please continue to ruin my dinner. It’s okay. It’s not like I paid a lot of money for a relaxing meal with my husband. What’s that, dear? Oh, of course, she can spit macaroni at me! Whatever could be wrong with that?”
When all I do is sit there, building up a good head of steam, wanting to turn around and say “PLEASE CONTROL YOUR CHILD!”
It is so unbelievably unfair.
Anyway, now for some against-the-stereotype casting, shortly after we were seated, another family with a young daughter were seated in front of us. Their daughter was the same age as the mewling little monster behind us. SHE was a perfect angel all throughout the meal. The contrast was so stark I was tempted to go to their table and congratulate THEM on their daughter’s behavior.
I just DO NOT understand how some parents don’t understand the basic rules of politeness. I don’t ruin THEIR meal, so they should have the courtesy NOT to ruin mine (and everyone else in hearing distance).
Huff, Huff….now I feel like the big, bad witch. But it’s the truth.
Still, I guess I’d better watch out for falling houses.
I confessed this to my friend Julie, who has two small boys of her own. Julie told me I am not crazy or weird to feel this way. “Even when you’re a mom,” she explained. “You will still find other people’s children annoying, whiny, and just plain irritating.”
I appreciated her validation beyond words, because I was starting to feel like a rotten person.
The truth of the matter is that I like well-behaved kids. There I said it. I have been in the presence of well-behaved children, and I’ve really enjoyed getting to know their unique view on the world.
Now, I know I have no room to talk when it comes to parenting and raising children. I don’t have any, so I speak not from the voice of experience.
I can, however, speak from the voice of a normal person just trying to enjoy a meal out.
Today, my husband took me out for a nice lunch at Olive Garden. We’ve both been super busy this week, so all we wanted to do was sit back, relax, and talk. We were seated in front of a young couple with a young daughter.
If this child had a volume button, it was stuck on LOUD. Her parents made several efforts to shush her, and then (instead of leaving which we all wanted them to do – which would have been the right thing – the polite thing – to do) just gave up and let the child shriek. Here is a replay of the conversation:
“MOMMY!”
“Shh, honey, what?”
“PUT ME DOWN! I WANT DADDY TO HOLD ME!”
“Okay, go around the table to Daddy.”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
“I thought you wanted Daddy to hold you.”
“NOOOOOOOOOO! I WANT YOU TO HOLD ME.”
“But I am holding you honey.”
“I WANT DADDY TO HOLD ME!”
(extremely loud grunting as child tries to escape mother’s grasp)
“Honey, come out from under the table.”
“NOOOOOOOOOO, DADDY!”
“Did you just say ‘no’ to Daddy?”
“YESSSSSSSSSS! NOOOOOOOOOO TO DADDY!
“You shouldn’t say ‘no’ to Daddy.”
“NOOOOOOOOO DADDY!
“That’s not being very nice, honey. Come out from under the table, please?
“I WANT YOU TO HOLD ME!”
“Okay, just come out from under the table.”
“OKAY! ICE CREAM NOW!”
“Okay, you can have some ice cram. Miss! Miss! Can we have some ice cream?
“ICE CREAM NOW! ICE CREAM NOW! NOW! NOW! NOW!
“Honey, we have to wait for the waitress to come back.”
“NO! NOW!!”
Well, it just went on and on like that. Brett and I could hardly hear ourselves think, let alone talk. And I saw other diners giving them the stink eye. Although they seemed oblivious.
I think the right thing to do would have been to leave once they realized they couldn’t keep their daughter under control. Or, in anticipation, they should have not brought their daughter to a nice place like Olive Garden. They would have been infinitely more comfortable (as would the rest of us) if they’d visited a McDonald’s Play Land instead.
The Olive Garden is a nice place, not just the food and service, also the atmosphere. This, in my opinion, doesn’t mean having to strain over the noise from yelling children, just to hear the dinner specials.
Okay, I get it. Kids don’t always behave. I’m sure I didn’t all the time either, although I’m pretty sure my parents would have put the kibosh on a restaurant scene like that. However, why do I have to pay for parents’ inability to discipline or control their children? I didn’t have the kids. Why am I being punished, you know?
It’s SO frustrating. Mainly because you know what you’re “supposed” to do. You’re supposed to look like, “Oh, gosh! Too bad! Hey, it’s okay. Did somebody miss naptime? They’re just kids being kids. Children are so precious. Gosh, are they CUTE! Please continue to ruin my dinner. It’s okay. It’s not like I paid a lot of money for a relaxing meal with my husband. What’s that, dear? Oh, of course, she can spit macaroni at me! Whatever could be wrong with that?”
When all I do is sit there, building up a good head of steam, wanting to turn around and say “PLEASE CONTROL YOUR CHILD!”
It is so unbelievably unfair.
Anyway, now for some against-the-stereotype casting, shortly after we were seated, another family with a young daughter were seated in front of us. Their daughter was the same age as the mewling little monster behind us. SHE was a perfect angel all throughout the meal. The contrast was so stark I was tempted to go to their table and congratulate THEM on their daughter’s behavior.
I just DO NOT understand how some parents don’t understand the basic rules of politeness. I don’t ruin THEIR meal, so they should have the courtesy NOT to ruin mine (and everyone else in hearing distance).
Huff, Huff….now I feel like the big, bad witch. But it’s the truth.
Still, I guess I’d better watch out for falling houses.
The Blogspiration Continues
Okay, so “blogspiration” probably won’t catch on, since I now realize it sounds more like “perspiration” than “inspiration” as I originally intended. Either way, what I was TRYING to say is that I have now inspired someone to start her very own blog.
My amazing, wonderful, thoughtful, passionate, patient, friend (and former college roommate) October has now started a blog. She admitted that after she started reading my blog, she became a little addicted – as we all do – to checking it out on a regular basis. She finally felt compelled to start her own blog where I (and whoever else happens by) can once again glean knowledge from one of the kindest, smartest people I know.
I, myself, was inspired to start a blog after our pastor started his blog and our church family created its own blog. I just couldn’t believe it was so easy. And fun. What I hadn’t expected was to run out of steam after a while. I wrote down all the things – my opinions and feelings on issues – that I had wanted people to KNOW. Things I had been saying for years. Now, I could let everyone know.
Now, of course, I find new topics, but I’m still amazed it only took me five months to say every thing I’ve been obsessed with for 28 years. Thankfully, well, hopefully, I’ve got many writing years in front of me.
I haven’t asked Tob for permission to give out her blog address, so I’ll wait on that, but I will say “congratulations” to her, and I can’t wait to read your thoughts. It’ll be just like college – without the Diet Cokes chilling on that frosty Chicago window sill, that is!
My amazing, wonderful, thoughtful, passionate, patient, friend (and former college roommate) October has now started a blog. She admitted that after she started reading my blog, she became a little addicted – as we all do – to checking it out on a regular basis. She finally felt compelled to start her own blog where I (and whoever else happens by) can once again glean knowledge from one of the kindest, smartest people I know.
I, myself, was inspired to start a blog after our pastor started his blog and our church family created its own blog. I just couldn’t believe it was so easy. And fun. What I hadn’t expected was to run out of steam after a while. I wrote down all the things – my opinions and feelings on issues – that I had wanted people to KNOW. Things I had been saying for years. Now, I could let everyone know.
Now, of course, I find new topics, but I’m still amazed it only took me five months to say every thing I’ve been obsessed with for 28 years. Thankfully, well, hopefully, I’ve got many writing years in front of me.
I haven’t asked Tob for permission to give out her blog address, so I’ll wait on that, but I will say “congratulations” to her, and I can’t wait to read your thoughts. It’ll be just like college – without the Diet Cokes chilling on that frosty Chicago window sill, that is!
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Television Is Ruining My Life
Okay, well, to be honest, television is, in itself, not ruining my life. Television is a neutral, non-cognitive entity. Technically, it can’t consciously ruin my life. So, more accurately, it is my addiction TO television that is ruining my life.
I don’t remember when I started to become so dependant on being entertained. When I was growing up, my family didn’t have a television. Well, we did, but only until I was five years old, and frankly I can’t remember that far back. When I was five, Dad cut the cord off our miniscule television and proclaimed us a TV-free house. Through the years, the only exception was when we borrowed Grandma’s small television so Mom and Dad could watch the Chicago Bears games.
Being deprived of television was a two way street. On one hand, without the constant barrage of television, I was forced to find entertainment and creativity on my own. I discovered the world of literature and have had my heard buried in books ever since. I had creative outlets in an active imaginary world and social interaction in my small circle of neighborhood friends. I credit the lack of TV as responsible for my scholastic skills, increased vocabulary, love of reading, social skills, and basic conversational ability. So, it was a good thing.
On the other hand, when a child is deprived of something that mostly everyone else has, that thing takes on an air of mystery. See, my parents didn’t forbid me to watch TV. We just didn’t have one in our house. So, of course, every time I was invited to someone’s house, I would bask in the glow of their TV. My friends used to get so frustrated with me, since I spent my time at their house watching TV instead of playing with them. After a while, they all knew to invite themselves to my house where I would at least pay attention to them.
When I was 15, Dad decided we could “trust” ourselves with a television again. He bought a nice size TV and got cable. After that, Mom bought a VCR and the entire Shirley Temple Video Collection. For the rest of my high school years, I watched television in moderation. I remember my favorite shows were The Brady Bunch, In the Heat of the Night, Full House, Family Matters, Quantum Leap, Murder, She Wrote, and Perfect Strangers.
Still, by the time I went off to college, I didn’t think about TV at all. In college, I gathered with the rest of the George Clooney fans in our dorm lounge to watch ER on Monday nights. But really, beyond that, TV didn’t have a foothold in my life.
Even after Brett and I got married and moved into our apartment, I only watched TV occasionally. So, my addiction has really grown over the past six years we’ve been in our house.
I find myself drawn to the television. Promising myself I’ll just watch a half hour or hour long program. Four hours sometimes even five hours later, I find myself still sitting there in the dull, blue glow of the screen.
Four or five hours a night is a lot. It’s a lot of time I don’t use wisely. It’s a lot of time I am not getting things done. I’m falling behind, and it’s my own fault for becoming addicted to television.
When I realized this, and sadly, that was only recently, I immediately thought about giving up television all together. But then, of course, I realized the best way to change a habit is to do it in moderation. So, I’m consciously going to try to cut down seriously on my TV time. Some of the late night viewing, 10:00 p.m. – 12:00 a.m., has come about as a result of Brett’s working the night shift. I find myself alone at night, a little frightened, and hearing intruders and doom in every squeak and settle of the house. So, I turn on the TV for company and for noise. Then, I usually become interested in a half hour show and find myself awake until the station sign off at 12:00 a.m.
Thank goodness we don’t have cable. I’d never sleep.
Just to give you an example, I will take you through my TV week. I don’t have a TV Guide in front of me, so this is just by memory. I may miss something.
Monday:
Heroes
How I Met your Mother
Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip
Late Night:
Everybody loves Raymond
Seinfeld
Scrubs (full hour)
Tuesday:
NCIS
Late Night:
Everybody loves Raymond
Seinfeld
Scrubs (full hour)
Wednesday:
LOST
Late Night:
Everybody loves Raymond
Seinfeld
Scrubs (full hour)
Thursday:
My Name is Earl (full hour)
The Office (full hour)
Late Night:
Everybody loves Raymond
Seinfeld
Scrubs (full hour)
Friday:
Numbers
Late Night:
Everybody loves Raymond
Seinfeld
Scrubs (full hour)
I don’t usually watch much on Saturdays and Sundays, since Brett and I are both home or running around. But still, look at how much time that all must take up! So, I’ve decided to try to completely STOP the late night viewing and try to get on a regular sleep schedule. Then, of course, I have to choose my favorites shows, and just stick to them.
If anyone has any secrets on how you’ve decreased your TV viewing time, I would love to hear them. Oh, and if you say, “Have kids.” I’m going to laugh. And laugh. And laugh.
I don’t remember when I started to become so dependant on being entertained. When I was growing up, my family didn’t have a television. Well, we did, but only until I was five years old, and frankly I can’t remember that far back. When I was five, Dad cut the cord off our miniscule television and proclaimed us a TV-free house. Through the years, the only exception was when we borrowed Grandma’s small television so Mom and Dad could watch the Chicago Bears games.
Being deprived of television was a two way street. On one hand, without the constant barrage of television, I was forced to find entertainment and creativity on my own. I discovered the world of literature and have had my heard buried in books ever since. I had creative outlets in an active imaginary world and social interaction in my small circle of neighborhood friends. I credit the lack of TV as responsible for my scholastic skills, increased vocabulary, love of reading, social skills, and basic conversational ability. So, it was a good thing.
On the other hand, when a child is deprived of something that mostly everyone else has, that thing takes on an air of mystery. See, my parents didn’t forbid me to watch TV. We just didn’t have one in our house. So, of course, every time I was invited to someone’s house, I would bask in the glow of their TV. My friends used to get so frustrated with me, since I spent my time at their house watching TV instead of playing with them. After a while, they all knew to invite themselves to my house where I would at least pay attention to them.
When I was 15, Dad decided we could “trust” ourselves with a television again. He bought a nice size TV and got cable. After that, Mom bought a VCR and the entire Shirley Temple Video Collection. For the rest of my high school years, I watched television in moderation. I remember my favorite shows were The Brady Bunch, In the Heat of the Night, Full House, Family Matters, Quantum Leap, Murder, She Wrote, and Perfect Strangers.
Still, by the time I went off to college, I didn’t think about TV at all. In college, I gathered with the rest of the George Clooney fans in our dorm lounge to watch ER on Monday nights. But really, beyond that, TV didn’t have a foothold in my life.
Even after Brett and I got married and moved into our apartment, I only watched TV occasionally. So, my addiction has really grown over the past six years we’ve been in our house.
I find myself drawn to the television. Promising myself I’ll just watch a half hour or hour long program. Four hours sometimes even five hours later, I find myself still sitting there in the dull, blue glow of the screen.
Four or five hours a night is a lot. It’s a lot of time I don’t use wisely. It’s a lot of time I am not getting things done. I’m falling behind, and it’s my own fault for becoming addicted to television.
When I realized this, and sadly, that was only recently, I immediately thought about giving up television all together. But then, of course, I realized the best way to change a habit is to do it in moderation. So, I’m consciously going to try to cut down seriously on my TV time. Some of the late night viewing, 10:00 p.m. – 12:00 a.m., has come about as a result of Brett’s working the night shift. I find myself alone at night, a little frightened, and hearing intruders and doom in every squeak and settle of the house. So, I turn on the TV for company and for noise. Then, I usually become interested in a half hour show and find myself awake until the station sign off at 12:00 a.m.
Thank goodness we don’t have cable. I’d never sleep.
Just to give you an example, I will take you through my TV week. I don’t have a TV Guide in front of me, so this is just by memory. I may miss something.
Monday:
Heroes
How I Met your Mother
Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip
Late Night:
Everybody loves Raymond
Seinfeld
Scrubs (full hour)
Tuesday:
NCIS
Late Night:
Everybody loves Raymond
Seinfeld
Scrubs (full hour)
Wednesday:
LOST
Late Night:
Everybody loves Raymond
Seinfeld
Scrubs (full hour)
Thursday:
My Name is Earl (full hour)
The Office (full hour)
Late Night:
Everybody loves Raymond
Seinfeld
Scrubs (full hour)
Friday:
Numbers
Late Night:
Everybody loves Raymond
Seinfeld
Scrubs (full hour)
I don’t usually watch much on Saturdays and Sundays, since Brett and I are both home or running around. But still, look at how much time that all must take up! So, I’ve decided to try to completely STOP the late night viewing and try to get on a regular sleep schedule. Then, of course, I have to choose my favorites shows, and just stick to them.
If anyone has any secrets on how you’ve decreased your TV viewing time, I would love to hear them. Oh, and if you say, “Have kids.” I’m going to laugh. And laugh. And laugh.
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