Thursday, September 30, 2010

Vitamin D and other things that get stuck in my throat


Why do the tiny vitamin D tablets always get stuck in my throat? It makes no sense. Advil slides on down. 5-htp rolls down, no problem. VicodinTylenol PM just about jumps down my gullet.

But the vitamin D lodges itself halfway down every time.




If I suddenly stop this writing post, please call 9-1-1.




Thank you very much.





So I am taking these vitamins because I have heard that we don't get enough from other sources and if we don't get enough we can become depressed. Do you think the "D"in vitamin D stands for Depressed? Or Diane?(Yup, I am the center of my own universe.)




I have been depressed.



So I am trying THE NEXT BIG THING: vitamin D.



Hoping it works.



It's weird, isn't it (just agree with me here) how if you get to feeling down, different areas of you life begin deteriorating?




(By "you" I mean "me.")




Because I'm going to take a wild leap here and guess that you didn't eat a Snickers ice cream bar for breakfast the other morning. But I did. Okay?



Okay, fine....TWO Snickers ice cream bars.




I saw them when I opened the freezer to get some non-caloric ice.




The moment I saw them I knew I would eat them. Well, I thought I would eat ONE, and had high hopes of saving the other for an afternoon snack.




Hope was smacked down.




See, when I'm depressed, even my normally bad eating habits can deteriorate just a smidge further.
Unbelievable, I know.




Ive been eating unhealthily (pretend that is written in a large,flaming font for dramatic purposes.Not that I am ever dramatic) not exercising, lazing around (Hello, Facebook), doing the bare minimum of housework to just squeak by so the camera crew from "The Hoarders" doesn't show up on my front porch ready to film the next episode.

Also I've become increasingly impatient and snappy with those people God has placed in my life as a blessing.(I know he pruned all the roses and hydrangeas even though they were blooming, but he was just getting ahead of the yardwork game. I had WORDS to say.)
I've found myself reading this book and not The Book. Spending time with Dr. House and the talented kids on "Glee" rather than with God.


When I put myself first, it is awful. My food choices, how I spend my time and energy, my entertainment choices are all about how to please ME. Putting myself first makes me happy for a moment but ends up making me absolutely wretched. My selfishness gets stuck in my throat just like my vitamin D.

I must be a joy to live with. Just ask Rod. Or maybe don't.One of us may not like his answer.


When I put God first,...well, I don't really know because I've never done it long enough to tell you anything I've learned.
Ouch.

Although I am in His grip, I don't live like I am. In fact, I do everything I can to live like I'm not his child.
When a whisper in my ear says, "There is nothing wrong with what you are doing. This is all harmless stuff, " I will remember some verses like this one in Galation 6:
"Don’t be misled—you cannot mock the justice of God. You will always harvest what you plant.
Those who live only to satisfy their own sinful nature will harvest decay and death from that sinful nature.
But those who live to please the Spirit will harvest everlasting life from the Spirit. So let’s not get tired of doing what is good.
At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up."




Why, oh why, do I turn away from him when I need him the most?




I take a thousand steps, one by one, in the wrong direction. When I finally stop to get my bearings, I feel I am too far away to come back easily. So I take more steps, even faster, as though I'm trying to escape.



Do ya feel me here?




Or maybe it's just me.



Is it just me that tries so hard to be fulfilled by things, rather than a person; The Person I was made for?




Today, I've had enough.



Today I stopped taking a million steps in the wrong direction.


Today I turned back to Him.




I could really beat myself up for my lack of commitment and devotion, my laziness, my horrible eating and physical habits which harm me from the inside out .


But then, once again, I'm focusing on me, not on Him.




Thinking about what I can do,or not do, instead of what He does.


I would fail before I started.


But I remember that His mercies are new every morning. So I'm gonna keep it simple by doing these three things:


1. Spend time with Jesus.

2. Spend time with Jesus.

3. Spend some more time Jesus .


I'm a moron. Really.

But He loves me anyway.


(I'm going to keep on the vitamin D for now. Anyone else take it? Notice any differences?)
**Edited to add: I am not saying anything is wrong with Snickers ice cream bars, "Glee", "House" or books other than the Bible. I AM saying that persuing those things in place of a relationship with God is not only harmful, but wrong.But I still find myself doing that at times.
There. The entire blog in one sentence.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Chocolate covered...

Spiders.


I didn't want to write yet another post about insects (yes I KNOW spiders are not technically insects. But I don't care enough to google and find out what they actually are.)



But I figured if I wrote "Chocolate" in the title you might click on the post and read it.


I'd kind of lure you into my web, so to speak.
Yes, I went there.


Plus, chocolate covered spiders MIGHT be good.

If you deep-fried them first.

And then dip them in ranch.

Let's be honest. ANYTHING would be good if you deep-fried it, coated it in chocolate and then dunked it in Ranch. Any one of those options would be fine. Together they are the elusive Trifecta of snacking.


Who want to volunteer to try that concoction?


I might be tempted, but this year's spiders are Jurassic Park spiders. So you would have to take a few bites, And chew a little bit. Like Big Mac Spiders.



I am scared to go to the mail box, or get the dogs out of the kennel, because the SPIDERS...they are SO FREAKING LARGE.


For all I know, the dogs may have been carried off by spiders by now.





The spiders are keeping me from living a normal life.





For example, this one is keeping me from Windexing the sliding glass door. (why yes, I made it a verb.Thank you for asking.)





This one is keeping me from walking between the dog's kennel and the pump house. I have probably walked there a grand total of 1000 7 times in the last 12 years, but that is not the point. Now I know I can't walk there. Disturbing, no?





This Queen Mother of all that is disgusting is keeping me from eating sleeping soundly.
(Or maybe that was the Macho Nachos I consumed like a tsuami while watching the Packer's break their record last night at Geno's. Not sure.)
I tell you I just can't sleep knowing this eight-legged creature from SpiderWorld is living RIGHT OUTSIDE MY WINDOW.



So,basically,the way I see it is that spiders are keeping me from cleaning my house and watching "Glee" tonight.
Ba ha ha ha!!
As though a spider, even if it is large enough to saddle and ride the trails with could ever stop me from watching "Glee."
But they are stopping me from cleaning my house.
Nevermind.
Unless the spider is named Laziness, it is really not responsible for the dusty conditions around here.

I need to stop talking about spiders because I am getting that creepy-crawly feeling like a large spider is on my shoulder or Rod Stewart is singing "Tonight's the Night."
How is the spider situation where you live?



Thursday, September 23, 2010

Catz. Are they really necessary ?

I know. Them's fightin' words.
But cats are on my mind this morning.
That can't be a good thing.
I consider myself to be a dog person.
I consider there to be something wrong, deeply wrong, with cat people. (oh, get your own blog.)

Dogs will be in Heaven.Obviously.
Cats belong in the seventh circle of hell.
That said, I could really use a cat right now. Because there are mice in my house. My dogs don't even notice. But I can hear their tiny mice feet scurrying around at night. Unless Mr. Squirrel is still visiting.
Someone sent me this cat herding video this morning.
It made me smile and I think I even COL.(chuckled out loud)




But wait! There's more kitty wonderfulness to be had here today! Please enjoy the following which was found on Craiglist not too long ago.
You're welcome.
You're very welcome.
Carton Of Irregular Cat Hats
Hello. I have a big box of used cat and kitten hats that I have collected over the years for various occasions. As of recently my cat, Snowman, is no longer living and thus I am forced to get rid of these precious memories. I would not feel right asking money for them so I am offering the whole box for free. There are many styles from formal to cute and funny.









There is a variety of 14 different hats total. I just hope you and your pet can find as much joy in these hats as me and Snowman once did.
E-mail me if you are interested and I will give you my address where you can pick them up. I can also arrange for a free delivery if you are not too far away.

PS: I just looked at this post after I published it and I am still so blown away by Snowman. Notice the hopeful look in his eyes in the first photo, like maybe this is the only time this will happen with the kitty hats.

Then the next photo, as reality as begun to sink in; that this is to be an ongoing ordeal. And finally, the despairing, yet still cat-like baleful stare into the distance, as if he is above it all, and he is not, in fact, wearing a fluffy lamb costume on his head.

And what kind of "formal occasions" would call for a cat wearing a hat?!

Okay, I'm done. Wait, look at the title again. "Carton of Irregular Cat Hats." As opposed to REGULAR cat hats?

Okay NOW I'm done. Enjoy your Thursday.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Crank and Lemon bars


I am cranky today.


Pretend the statement above is written all in bold, italicized, angry red font. And it is the size of large skywriting.


Do you feel my crank?


You should be able to because it is out of control crank.


For some reason, I felt the need to share it all with you.



I was just making the Pioneer Woman's lemon crumb bars and could not for the life of me open the stupid,stupid lemon juice bottle.


A pen, a knife, my teeth. None of them worked. Neither did throwing the bottle or cursing.

I do not think that entering the Lord's presence in prayer is a wise idea what with my mood.


Rod opened it.

Patient, patient Rod.

Whom I shall begin calling Job because of his great forbearance with my previously mentioned crank. He can just continue to call me one of the following:


Crank-mobile.


Crank-meister.


Cranky McCrank.


All are applicable.


You know you are cranky when , while making the lemon bars,you begin getting angry with the ingredients.Say that the butter and the brown sugar begin sticking to the sides of the bowl and the beater. But you are busy zesting the lemon.

So WHO can help by scraping the bowl?
NO ONE, that's who.
Rod is not here anymore, as he escaped into a torrential down pour to take the dogs on a walk rather than stay under the same roof with moi.


I can't believe I was getting mad at the butter and sugar. Butter is my BFF. I guess that doesn't matter today.


I need another hand or two to get these lemon bars done..God, WHY DIDN'T YOU GIVE ME ANOTHER PAIR OF HANDS??


As you can see, I have been in an unimaginably testy mood. Probably just hormonal. But pretty irritable.

Oh, well.

The kids are all coming over for dinner in a little bit and bringing the grand baby Max.

That should help.

I find him magically delicious.


Edited to add: Speaking of magically delicious, the lemon bars were exquisite.Also, no animals or family members were mutilated or murdered in the making of this blog today. They were just tortured by my company until my hormones settled down. Everyone is fine. Promise.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Avoidance Behavior

Sometimes, when I feel overwhelmed with situations or circumstances I will avoid experiencing the emotions of it.

Please tell me you do this ,too.

My fears this week are because Josiah is going to be a civilian firefighter working for our government in Afghanistan.

For a year.

Leaving his new wife and baby Max. But they have worked through the decision making process together and I am proud, so proud, of their family.


But, rather than do the healthy thing, by facing my fears and moving through it, I will post about what I do instead. Sound fun?





I don't know what avoidance behavior looks like to you, but I sure can tell you what it looks like to me. I'll call it the three "F's".


The first one is "Food"


Duh.


I will eat like a starving hyena, gobbling down my food as though the other predators on the savanna are circling. It actually does muffle my pain for a little while.
At least until the first burp.


Why am I scarfing down the Cake Batter ice cream, you ask?


Because it is time for breakfast, that's why.


Why I couldn't choose a healthy obsession like Shredding with Jillian rather cramming down Little Debbie cream-filled oatmeal pies,which, FYI, I don't even LIKE. No clue.


My next "F" stands for "Footwear".

Can I get an Amen?

I won't lie, I love me some nice boots. Something about the smell of new leather calls to me. Boots might be another one of my love languages. When I am searching for new shoes from Zappos I can forget for those few days moments the fears I have. Boots are like chicken soup for the sole, dontcha think? It works for me. At least until the UPS man leaves.








My newest obsession is my third "F", "Friesian horses".
Oh my word. I love these stunning, majestic creatures. Other horse breeds are dead to me when I look at the Friesian pictures on the internet. (Sorry Drifter. Love you, Polly. Mean it.) While I search the web for horse farms where they raise these horses (hello, Martha Stewart) I can forget my pain and anxiousness and set my worries aside. But they are waiting for me when I am done dreaming about Friesians.



None of these things are wrong, in fact I like to picture myself, in a new pair of Steve Maddens, eating a Burgerville Tillamook cheeseburger, riding on my perfect Friesian stallion. Or maybe styling it's gorgeous mane, or taking another picture of it. Or just hugging it and never letting go.
Welcome to Diane World.





I know that Jesus tells us to bring us our burdens and he will give us rest.

He IS rest.

But I am afraid to name all of my fears for this next year.Because if I actually do bring my burden to Jesus, than I have to feel it, and I am a little afraid of that emotion. Actually, alot afraid.



This week, saying that I am "giving it to Jesus" and "laying it at the foot of the cross" have just been memorized statements. I want it to be more than words. But right now, it has just been that.


I'm sad that my son will miss his baby's first year. That tears me up.


We have so enjoyed, over-the-top enjoyed, our Sunday dinners and movies with this new little Meyer family and I am broken up that it will not be the same for a while.



I'm afraid about things being different. I've been awful comfortable and happy. Super happy. Extra comfortable.
But I do SO believe that Jesus will ease my fears if I only focus on him.
Follow him.
Have faith.
Let the friends he has placed in my life comfort me.
Leave my fears at the foot of the cross.
That is quite a few "F's" right there. And I didn't even have to try real hard to make that work.
Anyway, I expect I'll be crying this out for a while.Don't let me scare you.
But I know where to turn and what to do. And it doesn't actually involve food, footwear or Friesians.
I'm not gonna lie. I might not want to say no to the occasional Ficodin, or a stray Falium. Just sayin'.



Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Nana Post




Besides the post "Things heard on the way to the hospital" I have not blogged much about our 4.5 month old grandson, Max Rhiley. (The "h" is not silent. Go ahead and try that out.)



That is because sometimes certain things are just too big, too ginormous to lay out there for public consumption.
Because a kajillion people read this, don't ya know.


Besides the fact that Max is indeed quite large (16 lbs, 84th percentile for height...length?m 82nd percentile for weight.) our love for him is enormous and I have no words.



Almost.



Notice how I was able to toss out baby facts and figures all willy-nilly? I don't have a clue what those even mean.



I just know that we love him beyond anything. From his baldy head to his monkey toes, we adore this boy. We have this, like, AMAZING connection. (I apologize. Some of "The Bachelor" came spilling out. And I don't even watch that show.)



Sometimes we have been so filled up with love for him that we bust out in speaking in tongues. But, maybe that is just our goofy baby talk. Not sure.



I am sure that I could gush on and on about our love for this sweet, sweet baby, how good he is, how precious, how no other grandparents in the history of the universe have ever come close to loving a grandson the way we do. Don't argue with me. It is the truth,



We were able to have him up at our house a couple mornings ago. It was a gorgeous, perfect fall day, when the sky is an almost electric blue and the sun is shining warmly down. Rod, Max and I were sitting on the back deck enjoying the perfection of the day and the baby. Rod was playing gently with Max, letting him grab and hold his big Grampa fingers. As Rod held out his hand with Max's dimpled baby fingers clinging to his finger, he mused aloud, " Won't it be great when these tiny little fingers can wrap around a hunting rifle?" Then he smiled at me with all the joy and hope he was feeling inside shining out of his eyes.



Well.



Really?


Hmmm.

Not quite what I was thinking about, but okay, then.

Oh, and I was just kidding about the "h". You don't really have to call him Max Rhhhhiley. Unless you want to.







 
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