Meyers on the Hood

The Best Present I Ever Received

2012-01-23T06:30:00.000-08:00

(Originally published 1/22/08. Bears repeating at least once a year.)
This common, ice-breaker question was asked of me recently and I knew immediately what I wanted to say, but I didn't say it. The setting was a light-hearted gathering and everything was , well, light-hearted. And I wanted to keep it like that. Because if I answered honestly what the best gift I ever received was, I would be weeping before a word got out of my mouth.

And I, my friends, am an ugly crier.

The best gift I ever received was the forgiveness of my sins and the promise of eternal life with the Father who loves me beyond reason.

I know. Just about everyone we know can say that, and it's the truth.

But the thing is, I don't deserve it. I really don't deserve it, and the fact that innocent, omnipotent, precious Jesus suffered and died for me, is absolutely ludicrous.

Because I murdered two of my own children.

(Don't think I'm being dramatic or over-the-top when I use the word "murder." I think not using it is what has helped get our society into this mess) I deserve to suffer and die. I deserve eternal hell apart from everything that is lovely, beautiful and good. The least I deserve is prison time in a small cell somewhere.

Oh, I repented.Repented is hardly a big enough word, but I don't know a better one. I regretted. I would eagerly give my life to change places with those children. I have been literally wracked by guilt and grief because of my selfish, cruel, thoughtless horrible decision to end the lives of my two babies by abortion. Nothing I can do will ever take away the grief of not knowing these children during my lifetime. Sometimes I look at Josiah or Amy and my heart just breaks into quarters. There was no where I could turn that would relieve me of the massive pain and life-swallowing shame.

But do you know what God did? He counted my tears and saved them in a bottle. He comforted me. He rejoiced over me with singing.He lifted my head. He welcomed me when I came to him.

It makes me shake my head in utter disbelief. Here I was, the most undeserving person on the planet, not worthy to raise my head in praise of him, uncomfortable in my own sick, sinful skin.

But he never left me. He sent his only son to suffer and die in my place so I could spend eternity with him, the Father who adopted me into his family. As one of his beloved children. He forgave me.

He loved me.

Unbelievable grace.

Scandalous, undeserved mercy.

It gives me goosebumps to think about it.

Today is the anniversary of Roe vs Wade, the decision that made my horrible decision easier for me and thousands like me.

Women are continuing to kill their own children everyday (45 million since 1973) and ruining their own lives in the process.

I volunteer in a women's prison and sometimes help lead a HEART (Healing and Encouragement for Abortion Related Trauma) bible study there. This article was sent to me by our local HEART leaders today and it shows very clearly how guilt-ridden women who have had abortion are, even decades afterwards.

If you want to hear more about my testimony you can go here, to the Eternal Perspectives Ministries website. This is Randy Alcorn's ministry and you can find answers to so many questions you may have about a variety of subjects pertaining to abortion as well as Heaven, the persecuted church, money issues, grace and truth etc. Truly an excellent site. You can also find out more about his books such as Heaven or Safely Home to name just a couple.

On a personal note, Randy and Nanci are very good friends of mine, as it was through them that God rescued me. Not many people invite a complete stranger into their house to live, and then find out she is not only homeless, but pregnant. I cannot say enough about their love and graciousness.

I have found Jesus to be the only forgiver of sins, the only way to eternal life and honestly, the best present I ever received.

Next time, I'll post a blog about something frivolous again, like my hair troubles (and believe me, they are many) or a recipe for chicken and dumplings or pot roast. But today this needed to be said and my children needed to be remembered, as do all of them. Not as faceless potential people, but as dearly loved, missing sons and daughters.

This is what the LORD says: "A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because her children are no more." Jer 31:15

The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." Zeph. 3:17

Speaking up for the 7111

2012-01-17T06:30:00.000-08:00

Six or seven inches of snow fell up here during the night. It is silent and pristine. After I cleaned out the stalls and fed the horses, I walked a little bit with the dogs and now I am making a pumpkin curry soup for dinner. (Mmmm-mmm. I know.)

But I feel a burden I can't shake and it is weighing me down just like those Douglas firs outside with their snow loads.

I am haunted by dead and dying babies.
Doesn't that sound awful?

I don't blame you for being totally offended and clicking off this blog right now while thinking happy thoughts of snowfall and football, birthdays and Modern Family.

Or even mundane thoughts of your upcoming work-week, what you are going to wear tomorrow, your grocery list or what you are making for dinner.
That's what I want to do.

All of that is better than thinking about dead or dying babies.

Or is it?

Maybe you, like me, have turned away too often from the images of what we KNOW is happening every day not too far away from where you and your family live.

Not too far away from where you go to school or work.

Just a few miles from where you buy your groceries.

Probably fairly close to the movie theater where you enjoy your entertainment, or the restaurant where you eat dinner.

I'm sure it is pretty close to the church where you go to worship God on the weekends.

This child killing is taking place right in our neighborhoods and the thought of that today is wrecking me. Babies are dying.

Women in our vicinity are making appointments to abort their children this week.

One by one by one. They are lining up to abort their children.

One by one by one. Their children are dying. Are you getting this? Are you feeling the weight of this?
We need to stop saying that there is nothing we can do and turning away.

In my metro area, there are approximately 7111 babies aborted every year. That is about 136 babies each week.
I looked up Lovejoy (a abortion facility near us) online and they have such a nice and welcoming website that it hurt to look at it. By the way, they call it "ending a pregnancy" as if a child were not even involved. They also offer counseling after an abortion. (I wonder if I could still go?)
Click on their website and see the P.C. and sanitized version of what goes on there. Does it strike your heart like it does mine?

I encourage you to go see what is happening in your neighborhood and your city.

In his video 180, Ray Comfort shows a video of people that lived in the neighborhoods surrounding the concentration camps where the murder of millions of Jews took place. After the war was over, these people were taken in to visit the camp so they could see what had happened there.

They had seen for themselves themselves the billowing black smoke rising from the camp day after day. But they had turned away, dismissed the signs, ignored what they saw. Until the devastating day they went to visit. Click on the 180 link to watch this video yourself. So striking.

The most moving image in the archives is a recently discovered picture of the Nazi concentration camp at Auschwitz.
The smoke on the left-hand side of the picture is being produced by the mass burning of bodies in funeral pits.

We have to look at this.

We have to look at what is happening.
We have to talk about this.
When we are quiet, babies die.
When we do nothing and look away, women are condemned to a life of hiding their shame and grief, covering it up with a barrage of attitudes, habits and behaviors, none of which are healthy. I know about this. See my testimony here and here at EPM's site.

So, please.
Please talk about this.
Blog about it. Make it your Facebook status and Tweet it.

Offer both grace and truth and don't be more concerned about offending people than about saving people.

"Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, to defend the rights of the poor and needy." Proverbs 31:8-9

Does God care about football?

2012-01-11T10:59:00.000-08:00

The best answer I have heard to this question comes from the movie, "Facing the Giants."
Which leads me to the question, "Does God care about the movies?"
Same answer.

Just replace a few of the words and switch it around a bit.

"Brock Kelley: So you think that God does care about football?

Grant Taylor: I think He cares about your faith. He cares about where your heart is. And if you can live your faith out on the football field then yes, God cares about football because He cares about you. He sent His son Jesus to die for us so we could live for Him. That's why we're here. But see, it's not just on the football field; we've got to honor Him in our relationships, our respect for authority, in the classroom, and when you're at home alone surfing the internet. I want God to bless this team so much that people talk about what He did. But it means we got to give Him our best in every area. If we win, we praise Him. And if we loose, we praise Him. Either way, we honor Him with our actions and our attitudes. So I'm asking you: what are you living for? I've resolved to give God everything I've got. Then I'll leave the results up to Him. I want to know if you'll join me?"

My friend, Randy, has met and spent some time with Tim Tebow, and his family.
Which clearly makes us like family with the Tebow's.
By this same formula, I am also related to Chuck Norris, John Piper, Third Day, Chris Tomlin and a host of other famous people.
I am like the crazy old aunt who shuffles around makes pickled beets and wears Nordic sweaters all year long.
I accept this.
Here is a link to Randy's blog about "Timmy" today.

The home stretch

2011-12-28T12:35:00.000-08:00

You've almost made it!
The way I see it, you are all divided into two camps: those who are waiting for a puppy to come home and those who are quite tired of all the puppy talk.
This is the home stretch.
Here are pictures to cap off the the Season of the Puppy, aka the Dog Days.

Niece Maddie cuddling with a new little friend. Maybe not so little.

This is where Maddie slept while she was here. It is the guest room, after all.

Puppy kisses. So sweet.

Maximus and Lockjaw chillin'.

Because I'm a giver...

2011-12-22T07:46:00.000-08:00

It has been arduous couple months around here. What with all the roly-poly puppy wrestling, breaking up puppy squabbles (ahem, Samantha), eating puppy meals family style 3-4 times per day, puppy poo, friends visiting and children playing and hugging puppies, it has been a delightful but tiring season.
When you try to fit running a business, family and Christmas in around puppy time, things move fast.
So it was time to schedule a puppy vet visit/day spa and just rejuvenate.
We needed some quality "Me" time.
All the puppies were up for it and, with Reader Brenda's indispensable help, we loaded everyone up into the SUV and headed into G-Town.
It was a quiet and uneventful trip and we enjoyed Christmas music along the way. While it was not exactly Silent Night, nobody was Rockin' Round the Christmas Tree. It was all good.
Joy to the World.

Everyone is in excellent good health, although one of our little girls had a bit of a cloudy eye due to an eye infection when she was a week old, she is just fine, improving and no treatment is needed. The pups weigh from 8.00 lbs (Samantha) to 11.80. (Maximus)

Sure, we can play in here...but what's out THERE?

Zeus checking out the Vet's office

Brutus looking concerned with the vet and his super-assistant.

Ebony with Dr. Richards having her eye checked.

Lockjaw looking slightly concerned.

Poor, worried Maximus being examined.

Whoa, what a puppy! Dr Richards and his amazing assistant, Amy check out Brooklyn.

Random group shot.

Reader Brenda gets some snuggle time with itty bitty little Maximus.

Ebbie being held by the world's best vet assistant. And best daughter. Did I mention Amy is my girl? :-)

Brooklyn needed to be sedated (NOT!!) during his mani-pedi. They were so relaxed during this visit it was unbelievable.

Max lounging after his mani-pedi. Yep, these pups just need to rein it in and calm down.

Brutus really needed to be heavily restrained during his spa treatments.

Samantha resting after the exam. They obviously were very traumatized by their first vet visit. :-)

Uh-oh

2011-12-20T14:27:00.000-08:00

We work hard to desensitize your puppy to every possible situation. You never know when your pup will run into a cartoon character.
It could happen.
Now they are ready.

Happy 302nd!!

2011-12-17T11:39:00.000-08:00

This is my 302nd post.
I thought we should celebrate.
A puppy video would enhance the party atmosphere.
Maybe it will even make this headache go away.
Here ya go.

Because I care.

And this little puppy...

2011-12-15T13:09:00.000-08:00

....finally found a home!

Congratulations Lisa S. and family on finally finding your bullmastiff puppy, Ebbie.
She misses you already.

I should probably ask permission before I publish your photo for all the world to see....

Naaawww. Where's the fun in that?

Now with Lisa deciding on Ebony, this means that 4, yes FOUR, puppies will be traveling back down to California with my dog-loving sister, Jackie and her amazing daughter, Maddie.

Can you picture this without cringing?

Me, neither.

Be brave, little soldier. Be brave.

Maybe I should send Lucy down with you to give you breaks.

She's real helpful.

Sound good?

Before Puppies

2011-12-13T08:56:00.000-08:00

Does anyone remember a time before puppies?
Maybe it's just me that can't remember.

I don't even know, but here are some fun pictures and a video.
Maybe I don't want to remember a time B.P.
Wondering...

Maxinus...advertising for Meyer Duct Cleaning. And a broom.

What do you mean nobody has picked me yet? I'm the last one? Nooooooo!!

Bellying up to the bar. Or the trough.

This doesn't get old. I do. But this doesn't.

See? Doesn't get old.

Weekend puppy update

2011-12-10T14:37:00.001-08:00

They are 5 weeks old already.
Almost time to go to their new families. I am not gonna lie; we have been through alot with thses pups and we are going to miss them.
Who wouldn't miss these faces?

Or these faces?

The best part of our day is getting to snuggle, wrestle and kiss these puppies. They make us smile and we know they will make you smile, too.

We still have one beautiful, stocky girl puppy available. I am wondering who is going to end up with her. We had a couple people interested last week, but both ended up not being able to buy her. It will be fun to see where she ends up.

Here is a short video clip of Rod with the puppies this morning. Enjoy!

Dear Puppies,

2011-12-03T10:08:00.001-08:00

Dear Puppies,
This morning when I came out into the kitchen to begin making your 1st breakfast and saw you in the hallway again, I was not amused. The partition is there to keep you in, not simply slow you down and build your climbing skills. Please stop breaking out.

Ebony, our only puppy still available. I call her Ebbie. Too bad she's not cute or anything.

Something you might not be aware of is that if you poop enough on anything, it will eventually smell poopy, even though I wash and wash and wash it. Right now, you might notice that your bedding blankets smell April Fresh with a subtle poopy aroma. This is not considered a good thing in polite company. Something to think about.

When you look up at me with your soft puppy eyes, I AM going to scoop you up and kiss and snuggle you. This cannot be helped. I am like Pavlov's dog.
In reverse.
Kind of.

Please. Stop the excessive whining, howling and barking when you smell bacon frying. You are not going to get any. No matter what. That is all.

Please stop scratching us with your little demon claws. You are like Ninja Cats the way you claw anything within paw's reach. You have made me bleed enough. Thank you.

Consider using your table manners while dining. I understand that your Puppy Mash is served family style, and that you are very competitive with your siblings. But there is no call to climb in the food dish and wallow around like you do. Didn't your Mama teach you any manners? Never mind. I know her. She didn't.

Back to the poo.
Could you just ease up a bit? Back off or at least slow down? A suggestion; maybe use the absorbent puppy pads I've thoughtfully provided for you. And then maybe don't walk or play in it. Again, just a suggestion.

Finally, I would like to submit to you all that you are the best, most cuddly and sweet puppies ever. You make me melt in a puddle.

Eye of the Beholder

2011-12-02T08:24:00.001-08:00

My photograpy skills are legendary.
Do not try to compete with them.
You will fail.
In an epic way.
I have lots of evidence.
Photograhic evidence.
Case in point:
Amy's photograph of Rod holding a puppy. (Maximas to be exact)

This was taken with her phone. In other words, not a great tool. But she made the puppy the center of the picture.
Now mine. Taken with an expensive Sony camera.
Ready....?

Words are not needed here.

As I said, my photography skills are legendary for a reason.
This is it.

If you would like to see more amazing photographs from our trip to the zoo, please go to this blog post where my skills are documented for the world to see.

Especially if you are someone that has recently asked for my advice on what kind of camara to buy.(cough cough erich cough)
Because, clearly, I have loads of talent and plenty of solid advice.

I thought I would end our work week with a short video of our puppies. Because my life truly does revolve around puppies at this time.

My disclaimer on the puppy video is that I had to use my camera, rather than my Flip video because my Flip video is in FL on vacation with Josiah, Ashley and Max. The lighting is poor, so you can hardly see them or their new collars. Just use your imagination as to how cute they are.
That is all.

Okay, I'll add one more picture so everyone will know that their fat little piggy puppy is getting fed.

Puppy key:

Maximas-red

Hagrid-turqouise (looks light blue)

Tiger-lime green

Ebony-purple

Brutus-blue

Lockjaw-black

Samantha-brown floral

Goliath-green

PS: I laid down a few sheets of newspaper under their dish, thinking this will help with clean up.

I don't know....what do YOU think?

Happy Meals

2011-11-29T07:50:00.001-08:00

This was the hope. I would buy this, "Loving Pets Stainless Litter Dish Puppy Bowl " with the thought that it would deter puppies from climbing in the dish during feeding times.
Because, I'm gonna tell you, it is a MESS.
Big time.

But reading the description, "Loving Pets Stainless Litter Dish Puppy Bowl is an excellent dish for puppies to share their meals or water in a whelping cage. These stainless steel bowls do not absorb food odors and are dishwasher safe. Perfect for all puppies. Lifetime guarantee." gave me hope.

Although it doesn't actually claim mess free puppy feeding times, the design lends itself to a vison of puppies quietly lined up, side by side, "sharing" their meal in the shiny new dish.

Yesterday, when the UPS guy delivered the bowl, along with some puppy teething toys and puppy pads for the new kennel (which will go up later today) I was psyched and ready to give it a test run.

I envisioned the puppies gathered in a calm circle 'round the new dish calmly nibbling up their breakfast.
This is what I got:

Really, puppies?
This is my Vietnam, people.

Here is Lucy, showing how very much she cares.

Thank you, Lucy. Thank you very much.

Here is what the battle field looked like when they were finished.

Can you see all the bits of dogfood mush flung here and there and everywhere? I can. Oh yes I can.

And, finally, here are the food encrusted little darlings, telling me that they are not going to put up with staying in a child's wading pool that much longer.

In fact, I think I can hear them whispering and muttering as they plan their Great Escape.

I'd better go.

Have a terrific day.

Puppy Picking Weekend!

2011-11-28T09:27:00.001-08:00

It was great to meet most of the puppy people this weekend and introduce them to their newest family members. Although they won't actually be picking up their bullmastiff puppy until the end of December, they got to meet them, name them and fall in love with them.
A success.
Here are a few updates.
King Kong is now named Brutus and will be going to Florida where he will lounge lakeside in the wonderful environment. He may be a show dog as well as a beloved family dog. (No I am not shipping. His family is coming from FL to fly him back with them. Nice!)

T-Bone's new name is Hagrid (from the Harry Potter series!) and he'll be staying fairly close by, in the Canby area. He is going home to a family with four kids, so he is going to have plenty of love and fun.

Sampson's name is now Maximus Decimus Meridius!! They will call him Max (which I am so partial to.) He is going to be trained to be a certified companion dog and will be visiting vet's at the vet's hospital in Southern Oregon. This really blesses our hearts.

Godzilla has been named Lockjaw and I am so happy to see him go to his new family in the Oakland, CA area. His new Dad is a chef and is looking forward to feeding Little Lockjaw until he is ginormous Lockjaw. Shouldn't take too long. These owners have been waiting for a bullmastiff since 1993 so I am beyond excited to see their bullmastiff dreams come true.

Roca is now called Samantha, and her owners have sent her very own special collar for her. (I have had to remove it for now as I keep finding it wrapped around her shoulders). She will be traveling down to the San Jose, CA area where she will join her new brothers, a bullmastiff and a Great Dane, as well as her mama and daddy. Samantha may also have a show career. but we'll have to wait and see.

Here is Hagrid with his new family. Everyone posed perfectly. Unbelievable. We would never be able to recreate this!

Uhhhh, Dave? You left a little something at our house. (No, not just Max!) We'll hold onto it until you come pick up your puppy.

So, we loved meeting each of you, and look forward to meeting a few more of you. I am feeling very much as if I'm now a foster mama; caring for and loving your puppy until he/she can come and make a home with their real family. Call, skype or email anytime. I'll do my best to be available with puppy pictures and updates.

And they called it....Puppy Lo-ooove.

2011-11-26T10:03:00.001-08:00

We can't let a weekend go by without a little puppy love.
You can make believe you can hear 16 year old Donny Osmond's young voice as you stare into his deep dreamy brown eyes from his album cover and idly wonder what it would be like to be Mrs. Donny Osmond....
Oh wait.
Back to puppies.
Because, frankly, they are a kajillion times better than being Mrs. Donny Osmond.

They have puppy breath.

This is Rod with Samantha, Jill Z.'s newest family member. I think I can actually hear all the "Awwwwwww's!"

Here is Dave with his puppy, Samson. Please just look at the puppy and ignore the sad, and crooked picture in the background. The 80's called and they want their goose decor back. Humph.

I wanted to add this little snippet because one puppy,who shall remain nameless (except for his name starts with King and ends with Kong) kept growling every time Rod tried to rearrange pups so everyone got some milk. I think I only captured a time or two, but he did it about 10 times in a row.The puppies are really serious about getting their dinner, and KingKong kept thinking one of the other puppies was trying to knock him away.

.Hope you all had a marvelous Thanksgiving!
PS. We have one male and one female puppy still available! Contact me if you are interested.

Monday morning puppy fun

2011-11-21T07:25:00.001-08:00

I don't know why it is so entertaining when puppies start to be able to see and hear and move around a little bit. They are just furry bits of fun right now. Happy Monday, puppy-stalkers!
Edited to add:
Here are some of the crazy photos we tried to take of wiggling puppies yesterday. I'm not gonna lie; no one was being cooperative.

This is Tiger, who started out life as one of the smallest, and is now catching up to his big brithers! No chest markings. He was the first puppy trying to get around and has been a fighter from the beginning. Very sweet. Hard to imagine these pups will grow up to be 150 lbs+!

These are the girls, Ebony on the left and Roca on the right.

Okay, I had to put Lucy in because she is working so hard and enjoying our snow walks so much rigth now.

Really? Could I be a worse photograher? I think not. This is KingKong who is an adorable puppy...but you'd never know it from this. Dang it. No marks on his chest.

Well, hello there, Godzilla! He looks like he is trying to stop all the papparazzi with his paw sheilding his face. :-) He has small upside down V on his chest.

Goliath is just trying to get back in the puppy pen and EAT...AGAIN. This guy is voracious! Stripe on his chest. Haven't seen that before.

Hey, hey hey! This is T-bone, who is still the largest pup, but all the others are hot on his tail. (get it? His tail??) Oh, I slay myself sometimes!) T-Bone has a T-bone shaped white mark. Cool!

And last but not least is Samson. Big husky boy with a round white spot on his chest. Adorable!

Consider this a warning

2011-11-17T08:06:00.001-08:00

A dire warning, my friends.

A month or so ago, I thought it would be fun and kicky to use this tool to crimp my hair.

It was!

So I did it everyday for a week.

I crimped my hair back and forth....I crimped my hair back and forth.

One day I was crimping away while talking with my friend (and hairdresser) on the phone. (I was getting quite skilled at the crimping.) When I told my friend what I was doing with the crimper (which has the heat of a thousand imploding fiery suns) there was a pause in the conversation. She asked if I was using a heat protectent, or something like that, to protect my hair.

A what?

To do what?

I considered lying.

But this doesn't lie.

On top of my head you will see all the fried, split, broken hair that used to be long, healthy locks. This apparently was caused by carelessly crimping without using some protective product.
Walk away from the crimper, people. Just walk away.

Please don't be alarmed the large purple curlers. My horses, dogs and goats are not. Neither is my mailman. (My husband does his best not to gasp, but one escapes occasionally when I startle him)

This is a picture of a woman who has no vanity.

Not a scrap of pride. Because she crimped her hair to death.

Stay tuned.
Next week, I'll post a picture of my muffin top.

Or maybe a picture of my toenails which still have the peeling remnants of pink nail polish from that pedicure I had back in July.

Back when I cared.

Have a great day.

Happy 2 week birthday!!

2011-11-16T11:48:00.001-08:00

What should we do to celebrate?
How about a video, you say?
For sure.
Here you go, you puppy-stalkers. :-)

You're welcome.

Recipe Monday

2011-11-14T13:24:00.001-08:00

Actually, I have no Recipe Monday. I just made that up because I want a Recipe Monday.
Lately, it's been all Puppy Wednesday, and Puppy Friday and,yes, even Puppy Sunday.

I NEED a Recipe Monday.

So this is it.

It gives me a reason to break out the Dutch oven.
.Add a little Napa red wine, and the boys will have Rod's home brewed stout, and I'll call it an evening.

What's up for your Recipe Monday?
We're having:

Beef Carbonnade over Garlic Mascarpone Mashed Potatoes

Yummy comfort food.
Recipe Monday is great. Tomorrow, I'll be ready for Puppy Tuesday.
Sigh.

Carbonnade: Belgian Beef, Beer and Onion Stew

adapted from Cook's Illustrated

3 1/2 pounds chuck roast, cut into 1-inch pieces

vegetable oil

2 pounds yellow onions (about 3 medium), halved and sliced about 1/4-inch-thick (about 8 cups)

1 tablespoon tomato paste

2 medium cloves garlic, minced (about 2 teaspoons)

3 tablespoons all-purpose flour

1 1/2 cups low-sodium beef broth

1 1/2 cups beer (12-ounce bottle or can)

4 sprigs fresh thyme leaves, tied with kitchen twine

2 bay leaves

1 tablespoon cider vinegar

Preheat oven to 300 F with a rack in the lower-middle position.

Pat the beef dry with paper towels, then season on all sides with salt and pepper. Heat 2 teaspoons of vegetable oil in large Dutch oven over medium-high heat until very hot. Add about 1/3 of the beef to the pot - don't crowd the meat, you want it to have space to brown properly. Brown for about 3 minutes on the first side, then flip the meat over and cook until the second side is well browned, about another 3 minutes. Transfer the beef to a bowl. Continue browning the rest of the meat in batches, adding 2 teaspoons of oil for each new batch of meat.

Once all the meat has been browned, reduce the heat to medium and add 1 tablespoon of vegetable oil to the pot. Add the onions, 1/2 teaspoon salt and the tomato paste. Cook, stirring occasionally and scraping the bottom of the pot with a wooden spoon to loosen the browned bits, until the onions are lightly browned, about 15 minutes. Add the garlic and cook just until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add the flour and stir to coat the onions. Cook until the flour is lightly browned, about 2 minutes. Stir in the beef broth, scraping the bottom of the pan again to loosen any remaining browned bits. Add the beer, thyme, bay leaves, vinegar and beef (along with its accumulated juices) to the pot. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Raise the heat and bring to a simmer, stirring occasionally. When the stew reaches a simmer, cover the pot partially, then transfer to the oven. Cook until the beef is fork tender, about 2-3 hours.

Remove the thyme bundle and the bay leaves. Adjust seasonings to taste before serving.

Garlic Mascarpone mashed Potatoes
3 pounds Idaho potatoes, peeled and cut into large dice

Kosher salt

1 1/2 cups whole milk

6 cloves roasted garlic cloves, pureed

1/2 stick unsalted butter

8 ounces mascarpone cheese

Freshly ground black pepper

Directions

Place potatoes in a large saucepan, add cold water just to cover and 1 tablespoon of salt. Bring to a boil over high heat and cook until tender. Drain well and run through a food mill set over a large bowl.

While the potatoes are cooking, combine the milk, garlic puree and butter in a small saucepan and bring to a simmer over low heat. Stir the milk mixture into the potatoes until combined. Fold in the mascarpone and season well with salt and pepper. Keep warm over in a bain marie or double boiler until serving.

Sunday morning and all is well

2011-11-13T09:59:00.001-08:00

*** Please keep scrolling down or click on the Bull mastiff link on the right side of this page to view more puppy pics and get info on the parents and this litter.We have one or two puppies left for a family to claim***

So the computer is being repaired, emails are being returned and puppies are getting fat. And loud. We are keeping the room they are in at a temperature of between 79-85. The room they are in now is the living room. It is where I live.
But the temperature is nightmarish. Very hard to sleep with sweat dripping down my face all night.
But did I mention the puppies? They are fat and healthy. And loud.
.
Here are a couple Sunday morning pictures:

Can't you see the beginnings of a perfect bullie head??

Oh no....Not the HARD DRIVE!!

2011-11-11T15:29:00.001-08:00

Hi Everyone!

This is Jackie -- Diane's FAVORITE sister. And apparently the smartest one. I can't tell you all how many times I've suggested that Diane buy a Macintosh. Hmmm...Looks like I'm right again! Gosh it's hard to be THIS right.

OK...On with Diane's message: "My computer hard drive has crashed and is unrecoverable. Please call if you have any questions or want to talk about the puppies. I'll add a new post when the computer is back up but it's going to be a few days. Sorry for any inconvenience!!"

Thanks All!

Saying Good-bye.

2011-11-10T08:34:00.001-08:00

***If you are looking for information on Lucy's and Luca's puppies, just keep scrolling down***

I know.
They're just puppies.
It's not like they're people.
But when you're pouring yourself into helping, forcing, willing a fragile puppy to live, it just physically hurts us when they don't pull through.
Some of them were born very tiny and just never really grew.
So we would hold them against our skin to keep them warm, try to comfort them while they struggled to breathe at 3 a.m. Feed them with tiny kitten bottles, which led to tiny stomach tubes so we could get nourishment into them.
Somehow.
But nothing worked.
And we lost one after another until four had died.

The last pup was lost the other night after a valiant effort. He honestly didn't look like he should have lived as long as he did.

But he was a fighter. Which made it all the more difficult to stop the heroic measures, wrap him up in a towel, and place him in the side of Lucy's puppy pool until he stopped breathing.

That's when Lucy came over to see.

I am not attempting to attribute human emotions to an animal that does not have the capacity for it, but I think the pictures below explain the story.

I took pictures because I was stunned to see her grief. I know dogs mourn for various reasons, but had never witnessed something as moving as this.

To me, this is heart-wrenching, amazing and beautiful as she says good-bye to her puppy.
I hope you understand why I put these pictures up.
Lucy is a wonderful Mama, and this is truly touching.

God has blessed us with our dogs, our companions, our best friends.
Manytimes, in more, and deeper ways, than we are aware of.

Good-bye precious puppies.

I love you, Lucy the Lion.

Week one pup pics

2011-11-09T17:43:00.000-08:00

I'm not going to use my words tonight.
You're welcome.
(Please click on the Bullmastiff puppy link on the right hand side of the blog to read more about Lucy, Luca and the pups. I'll have more info and pics in a day or two.

When I've slept.

Random Sunday puppy pics

2011-11-06T12:38:00.000-08:00

Here are some puppy pics for those of you waiting to see. Also, if you want more info on the puppies, please click on the Bullmastiff Puppy link on the right side of this page.

They're Here!

2011-11-04T13:42:00.000-07:00

But Lucy is not here.
POOR GIRL.
She deserves all caps in that sentiment.
Lucy the Lion is undergoing a c-section as we speak. Her last puppy (# 13) was not able to be delivered naturally, and Lucy was exhausted from all the laboring.
Seriously,
12 pups.
8 males.
4 females.
36 hours of labor.
I just want to hug her like she hugs her puppies.
When she wasn't feeling well enough to nurse last night (you know, because of all the contractions) she would lay on her stomach with her paws in front of her and gather puppies to her. Then she would rest her tired bullmastiff head on them.
Precious.
But now to pictures. Because
1) you really all want to see all the fresh, newborn cuteness, and
2) I am too tired to write and there is no telling what things I will say when I am under the influence of sleep deprivation. Because I have not slept yet, either.
Here you go:

for those of you who are buying puppies, please email me at DidiLyn@aol.com and we can figure out the the wheres/whens/hows. We already know the whys. ;-)

Now it is time to feed some crying puppies, then a nap, then off to pick up the Mama-dog.

Steady as she goes

2011-11-01T18:54:00.000-07:00

*** Keep scrolling down for more information on Luca and Lucy's puppies***

Today I set up Lucy's water bed in our room. Just so you know, it is not an actual water bed, but a kid's plastic wading pool borrowed from some friends. No, Lucy's puppies are not going to experience the zen-like qualities of a full service water birth and day spa.
But I will play some calming music and use my inside voice.
Here is her bed. It is more comfortable than it looks. I know this for a fact. I checked it out.

After I set it up and made sure I have plenty or towels and other things needed for this blessed occasion at the ready, I made Lucy get it in to try it on for size. I had to bribe her with a biscuit, but she climbed on over the wall and settled in.
Then her breathing became panting, and her panting was interspersed with soft whines. As she lay there, I noticed she was trembling from nose to tail. And panting. Hard.
I had seen this before and was pretty sure I was seeing the first stage of labor. Which, according to my records and math skills, should not be until next Wednesday.
At the earliest.
I made a call to her vet, looked for my purse, looked for my keys (WHERE IS MY PURSE!! I CAN'T FIND MY KEYS!!) then heaved and hefted my ginormously pregnant and heavily panting Lucy into the Trailblazer.
Long story short, she may be heading into premature labor. This is not good, as puppies cannot survive this early. I need to keep an eye on her and keep her calm and quiet. I have a feeling I'm going to find out where my sleep deprivation wall is.

The good signs are that she is still hungry and thirsty, her temperature has not dropped, the puppies are still alive and growing.

She is having some bites of rib eye steak as we speak and resting comfortably. I think she was too tired to get on the couch, so I took her picture while she was on the floor. How odd for her. ;-)
Anyway, we'll have our hands full for the next week as we try to keep her calm, rested and quiet. So far, so good.
She really needs to hold out until Wednesday November 9th.

Wonder Bread

2011-11-01T09:35:00.000-07:00

If you are around the same age as I am, you probably remember Wonder Bread. It came in a white package with bright red,yellow and blue balloons on it and claimed to "help you grow in 7 ways!"
Like that was a good thing?
Times.
They are a'changin'.

We would have cinnamon sugar toast for breakfast.
Peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches and Kool-Aid for lunch.
Then there was always a plate with soft white Wonder Bread on the table next to the pot roast and ~~overcooked~~ carrots and potatoes. We would butter it up with margarine and snarf it down.

I still have fond memories of Wonder Bread. (But I also have fond memories of my Dad's cigarette smoke. Go figure)

Now-a-days (gosh, I sound like Grampa Smucker) we eat healthier, especially where bread is concerned. Besides the occasional loaf of homemade French bread with REAL butter, we mostly eat whole grain breads, and usually only once per day. Carbs'll kill ya, I tell ya. Too many of them, anyway.
Remembering the Wonder Bread last night made me think of how Jesus referred to himself as the bread of life. (Yep, I'm going there. I'm totally comparing Jesus to Wonder Bread.)

"Jesus replied, "I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry again." John 6:35

It made me wonder why he would call himself that, and I'm sure there are any number of reasons.
But it made me think of how we chowed down on that Wonder Bread three times each day.
Maybe that's one reason Jesus called himself the bread of life; he is calling us to feed on, or fill up on him everyday. Not just once a day, but maybe three or more times each day.

If I don't spend time actively pursuing him everyday,by reading, praying and listening to messages online, my spiritual perspective diminishes. My thoughts turn to other things. I need to keep him at the forefront everyday, all day, or I am astonished at how quickly my attitudes change. I become more impatient with people I love.I get more snappy and snarky. My attitude of gratitude erodes into an attitude of entitlement. And that attitude doesn't look good on me. Or you, either.

So, this Jesus equals Wonder Bread is a pretty darn simple thought. I know, I know. It's as fluffy as a loaf of Wonder Bread fresh from the bag.
But simple can be good.
After all, he DID call himself the bread of life, and we do need to fill up on him throughout the day. And I bet you my bag of cat eyes and puries (marbles, for you babies)that he helps me grow in more than seven ways.
BAM! Take that, Wonder Bread!

Friends with benefits

2011-10-25T07:38:00.000-07:00

I guess I need to explain that title anybody thinks this blog is going in a different, and more liberal, direction than usual.
I'm just thinking of how blessed I have been with friends, even knowing, honestly, that I am not the best of friends.
I'm not bad, really. Just not great at it. I like to be alone. Alot. Some people can take this as being aloof or snobby. I don't think I'm either of those things. I just replenish myself by being alone. And quiet. And contemplative. My gosh, I sound like a monk. I hope I am one of those monks that make the terrific caramel. That would be cool and yummy.

Anyway, back to my friends. I have been blessed in my life to have some awesome people around me. Take, for instance, a couple I spent a few days with last week.
I made a pot of Chicken Tortilla Soup.

In return, I got this. Delightful in every way. Like the friend herself. (Look Jen! You made the blog again! Hey there, girlfriend.,,,.)

And this.

Adorable, yes?Don't you want one of these cutie McCutersons for yourself? Be jealous, people. My friends are amazing as well as talented, crafty and over-the-top generous. (Both these items were "re- purposed." I love trendy words.)
Being friends is not all about giving each other gifts.
Although, I'm just gonna say, it sure doesn't hurt.
It's not all about laughs and giggles. Although I'm a big fan of the both the laugh and the giggle.

One of the things I treasure most highly in a friend is the ability to say the hard things. Like, "hey sister, your sweater is on inside out and the tag is all hanging out there for the world to see, and you are disrupting people's worship time because all they can think about is when are you going to figure out that your clothes are on inside out"
Oh, that's right. No one told me my sweater was inside out. I had to figure it out myself during church, after the stop at the store and after the stop at Starbuck's.
But, yes, I would have appreciated a girlfriend stepping up.

"The best mirror is an old friend."
- George Herbert
I have no idea who George is, but he hit the nail on the head with this one. (and how did he know my friend's were old?)

"An honest answer is the sign of true friendship."
- Proverbs 24:26

That's what I want from my friends.

If I am being gossipy, they will stop me.

If I am being harsh, they will tell me.

If I am spending too much time alone, they will come get me.

If I am not taking care of myself and eating cake batter, they will take that cake batter right out of my hands and eat it themselves.

If I am not going to church for a couple weeks in a row, they will ask why.

If I try to crimp my hair with out and thermal protectant, they will unplug that crimper.

Oh nevermind. They will wait until my hair has burnt off in patches clear up to my scalp on top of my head and feels like old carpeting.
It's a good look with my backwards sweater with the big tag waving in the breeze at everyone behind my back.
But they will tell me never to do that again.
And they will repeatedly assure me that I don't really look like the love child of Bozo the Clown and Richard Simmons. More like his second cousin. Or like a caramel-making monk.

See? A trustworthy, honest friend is worth their weight in Chicken Tortilla Soup.

What traits do you most value in a friendship?
(Fyi: if you are looking for a friend with burnt hair patches, I may be able to hook you up.)

Lucy and Luca sittin' in a tree...

2011-10-21T07:55:00.000-07:00

Okay, they're not really sittin' in a tree, but they are having puppies together. This makes me happy.

Lucy is really milking her pregnancy.
She is lazing on the couch for hours at a time. (That is Rod lazing with her.)

She doesn't run any more. She meanders.
There is no end to her hunger. (Mine either, but that's another story.)
She still wants me to lift her back end up on to our bed. Let me tell you, she is getting heavy.

And, rather than just using me as a leg up, she settles back into me as I heave. Which makes me grunt and groan as I heft her up. Which makes me make the sounds she makes when she gets off the chair, couch or bed.

But this post is to tell you about Luca, the bullmastiff male we bred her to for this litter of pups. Look at that head! Gorgeous!!

Luca, at 16 months old won 4 Majors, Multi Best of Breed titles, 8 Best of Winners titles, 9 Winners, 11 R. Winners and

29 First placements!

American Kennel Club Champion Aristocrat's Luca Brahma-

Bull, CGC, TDI, AKC, DNA, proven stud

DOB: Sept. 15, 2007

In talking to Suzan, Luca's owner, I found someone who is dedicated to making sure the bullmastiff breed is enhanced my any breeding she does. She is a canine behaviorist and her website is a wealth of information about this incredible breed.

Luca is an AKC champion as well as a certified therapy dog. This says so much about his demeanor. He has to be calm, intelligent, loving and gentle. Oh, and he is 175 lbs, which is super LARGE for a bullie. But his build is superb and we will be offering a 1 year health guarantee against genetic conditions. I saw that Suzan offers a 7 (SEVEN) year guarantee for temperament. This is fantastical and awesome, and I think that would be really hard to do, but speaks volumes as to how much confidence she has in Luca.
Here are the results of his temperment testing from Suzan's website:

"Results of temperament testing- Luca has tested with the highest score possible in overall temperament, handles new situations easily & loves any social setting including other dogs of any breed, kids and adult humans, he's even been tested with horses, cats, birds and a guinea pig! He's a very sweet & happy dog, his tail is always wagging, he does not guard food or toys and allows other dogs to eat out of the same bowl with him, he will allow even the highest value item such as a Bully stick to be taken out of his mouth without any issues whatsoever. A overall fantastic temperament, as does his sire and dam and being a canine behaviorist I find good (or bad) temperament is highly heritable.

Training levels achieved- Luca started training at 8 weeks old since I do my own training, he is extremely well socialized which is the most important training for a puppy. He has easily achieved levels of obedience up to Advanced Obedience & will be working towards his titles in AKC Rally Obedience this summer.

AKC Championship achieved 5/09 with 4 major wins

AKC S.T.A.R. Puppy achieved 4/08

AKC Canine Good Citizen certification achieved 7/08

Luca achieves TDI Therapy Dog certification 10/08 with 100% pass on testing!!!-He visits Sebasticook Valley Hospital, primarily children's wing, Sebasticook Nursing Home & District 53 Schools for TDI reading program and AKC Canine Ambassador program teaching AKC Safety Around Dogs, Care of Dogs."

Here is a link to her site so you can read more about Luca, bullmastiffs and all kinds of other stuff. Enjoy, but don't get lost; it is a massive site.

http://www.aristocratfrenchbulldogsandbullmastiffs.com/4studservavailable.htm

Please let me know if you have any questions or would just like to make a general observation as to how adorable you think this litter of puppies will be. :-)

In the meantime, Lucy will be eating, sleeping, hiking, playing,and basically just enjoying the life of a pregnant mama as she waits for her pups.

Secrets

2011-10-20T08:44:00.000-07:00

It is O-dark-30, and I am writing this is my new flannel pajamas surrounded by tubby bullmastiffs. One is pregnant. The other is just tubby.

Secrets are on my mind. I used to have some. But, years ago they came bursting out and since then I am hard pressed to keep anything quiet inside. If it's on my mind, it's on my tongue and out in the open before I even know it. This is not right, but that is a whole other blog post. It's just that once the dam broke I can't seem to hold anything back.

For years now, I have worked side by side with girls and women who have secrets. Deep, dark secrets. Scary secrets. The kind that you box up and lock up and throw away the key. The kind you can't bear to think about because if you did, your life as you knew it would be destroyed.
Ugly secrets. People would leave you secrets. God would hate you secrets. You think you might just howl your pain and then lay down and die secrets.

I know this because I used to keep some myself.

The thing is, you think letting the secret out will wreck you,
when the whole time, the secret you are keeping is killing you from the inside out. Rotting you, really.

"If people really knew me, they wouldn't love me."
" If I work harder it will prove that I am worthy and lovable and the secret won't matter anymore.
"If I drink/take drugs/party (fill in the blank) more, then I won't think about the secret.
"I must be ugly and wicked and evil and no one really knows me."
"It doesn't matter what I do. I've already destroyed my life and there is no hope for me."

Do you know what these types of thinking lead to?

Hardened hearts.
Distrust.
Broken relationships.
Depression.
Harmful behavior of all kinds.
Turning away from loved ones.
Turning away from God.

You see, it's not the actual secret that is killing you; it is keeping the secret that is twisting you in to someone that God never intended you to be.
One thing I've learned in years from working one-on-one with first class, blue ribbon-winning secret keepers, myself included, is that everyone thinks their shameful secret is the worse than every one elses.
It's not.
That is a lie from the king of liars, satan. This is how he keeps you for himself.

Because if it's too shameful, too horrible, to ugly, too scary to ever say out loud to God or anyone, it will stay locked up inside you,like a cancer, where you come to believe it is not just a part of you, but IS you. It becomes how you identify yourself. The filter through which you view yourself. It grows and grows until you come to believe that you are as ugly as the secret you keep.

And guess what?Your secret isn't really a secret at all. Not from God.

"God would surely have known it, for he knows the secrets of every heart."
Psalm 44:20-22

"You spread out our sins before you— our secret sins—and you see them all."
Psalm 90:7-9

"Nothing in all creation is hidden from God. Everything is naked and exposed before his eyes, and he is the one to whom we are accountable." Hebrews 4 :13.

But before we get all freaked out, thinking about a God who knows everything and surely must despise us because we despise ourselves so much, hear this:

"Let all that I am praise the Lord;
may I never forget the good things he does for me.
³ He forgives all my sins
and heals all my diseases.
⁴ He redeems me from death
and crowns me with love and tender mercies.
⁵ He fills my life with good things.
My youth is renewed like the eagle’s!

⁶ The Lord gives righteousness
and justice to all who are treated unfairly."

and...

"The Lord is compassionate and merciful,
slow to get angry and filled with unfailing love.
⁹ He will not constantly accuse us,
nor remain angry forever.
¹⁰ He does not punish us for all our sins;
he does not deal harshly with us, as we deserve.
¹¹ For his unfailing love toward those who fear him
is as great as the height of the heavens above the earth.
¹² He has removed our sins as far from us
as the east is from the west.
¹³ The Lord is like a father to his children,
tender and compassionate to those who fear him."

Psalm 103:2-6 and 8-13

We are trying to keep our secrets from the only one who can save us from them.

"But if we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness." 1st John 1:9

We don't need to be chained like slaves to our secrets. We are children of God!

¹⁵ "So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children.^[a] Now we call him, “Abba, Father.”^[b] ¹⁶ For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children." Romans 8:15-16

We are called to be free from our hidden secrets and let God himself carry that burden like a shepherd carrying his lambs:

"Praise the Lord; praise God our savior!
For each day he carries us in his arms." Psalm 68:19

So what secrets are you keeping?

What secrets are keeping you?

Isn't it time to just take a deep breath and put them down, once and for all?

Chattanooga

2011-10-19T09:01:00.000-07:00

This video slays me. Honestly the first thing I thought was how often I respond to God just like this little girl when plans or circumstances don't go the way I think they should.I might be even more whiny.Just keepin' it real.He's trying to give me Disney World.All I think I want is Chattanooga.Priceless.How do you respond to God when he is trying to tell you He has big Disney World plans for you?Do you want to stay in Chattanooga?

Guess who is having Bullmastiff puppies?

2011-10-14T12:51:00.000-07:00

Lucy the Lion! This is Lucy when we first brought her home from the airport. She has hardly stopped running.

Unless she is sleeping.

Or eating.

Here she is with Rod and Polly. (Rod's the one in the flannel shirt.)

Lucy, of Oregon has been bred to AKC Champion Aristocrat's Luca Brahma-
Bull, of Maine. I'll write more and show some pictures of him in a day or two.

In the meantime, I will take this opportunity to share lots of favorite Lucy pictures.

Because she is pregnant.

And because I can.

Here she is as a young dog looking as regal as a bullmastiff should.

Here is Lucy with Rod while we were horse camping in the Ochoco Mountains this year. Not the best shot of ol' Squint Eye, but hopefully Rod won't be looking at the blog anytime soon. This picture just shows Lucy's exuberance and love.

By the by, did anyone else notice that Rod is wearing the same shirt in both these pictures with Lucy, even though this is two years later? Maybe I should shop for him more often.

But I am too busy to shop for him because LUCY IS GOING TO HAVE PUPPIES!!

This last picture demonstrates how ferocious Lucy can be.She clearly wants her own space and doesn't take any guff from anyone, not even Auntie Jen, who just wanted a moment to read her Kindle while camping. We won't let Jen sit on Lucy again until after the puppies are here.

Joy hiding in gratitude

2011-08-24T08:23:00.000-07:00

Today I'm being thankful for the everyday things.

A dog's happy silly laughing grin.

A grandson's chubby pointing finger and demanding grunts.

A tired husband's tight hug when he comes home from work.

Warm tomatoes and green beans from the farmer's market.

As Ann Voscamp says in her book "One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully" , counting these mundane blessings chronicles grace in our everyday life. (I am going through this book for the second time and cannot recommend it highly enough. Just quit reading this blog and go get it. Now. Go on. I'll wait.)

It brings joy.

As Ann looks back over her gratitude journal, where she writes down all the things she is thankful for, she says this, "And I can see it in the looking back, how this daily practice of the discipline of gratitude is the way to daily practice the delight of God.... and not only was the numbering leaving traces of our days; this counting the blessings was the unlocking the mystery of joy, joy, 'the gigantic secret of the Christian,' joy hiding in gratitude, and who but the Jesus people are the most thankful?

How about a crisp pear from the fridge on a hot day?

Cool "mountain mineral" water from our drippy kitchen faucet.

(How do I dare consider food and water mundane with what is happening in parts of Africa as I type this? Repenting.)

Thankful for the sound of my running shoes pounding on the dirt trail as I run on my loop. Grateful for no injuries and muscles working to be able to do this today.

Thankful for the berries I see along the trail, tiny membranes each filled with warm sweet juice waiting for a mouth to bite down. The things God made for us are without number and never cease to amaze me.

Why did he create that berry for me, his enemy?

When I think of what I deserve....and I think of what he gives me instead....?

I am astounded. I am blown away. I am humbled.

(Being thankful for the little things makes me think sometimes of the hallucinogenic drugs of the 60's, when they would study their hands from all angles and be fascinated.

Maybe they were on to something....? Not the drug part, but the fascinated part. :-)

I find that only being thankful for surface things,the general things, like the weather, our health, our safety and protection, thank you for today, etc etc etc, leaves me flat.

Shallow.

I hurry through those types of prayers because am I really meaning it? Is my heart focused? Or am I rushing to fulfill a duty?

When I really dive in ,when I dig deep, God is there. I fall in love with him. I delight in him. Isn't this what we are here for?

I can truly be thankful for each facet, each detail, each corner. It helps me know God better and love him more.

It can become easier to be thankful for all these moments in your life. But life is not just made up of PollyAnna days.

What about the really mundane things in my life like dishes in the sink from last night,enough dog fur on the floor to make a whole other dog, stalls that need to be mucked out by someone whose initials start with DIANE?

There are days of sickness and growing old, injury and death, family far away but me still needing a hug, bills not paid, appliances not working, anxiety, fear, people giving up on you and on and on.

I think that practicing the daily discipline of thankfulness helps me grow so that I can learn to trust and be thankful in the hard heavy times.

Because hard heavy times? They will come.

For today, I am going to be thankful for the little/big God things in my life, all the ways he shows himself in a million different details all around me.

What are you thankful for today?

Broken down horses

2011-08-10T11:09:00.000-07:00

I'm kind of feeling like a broken down horse this morning. You'd think I'd be an old hat at this "my son is leaving to Afghanistan" thing, since this is the third time, and it's his choice to take this job.

But I'm just as sad, just as anxious, just as wore down with the leaving.

I find myself spending time with the horses. Just being quiet with them. Well, I'm trying to be quiet but Ruby the ear less goat always has to pipe up ask for more hay, more water, more scratches.

The horses aren't quite themselves, either. We have Drifter, the big sorrel gelding. He likes to remind everyone that he is in charge.

Of everything.

All the time.

But right now he is calmly munching his morning hay, being warmed in the sun and smelling like a horse, which is what I am assuming at least a corner of Heaven must smell like.

We also have Cabela, or Bela, who is a gorgeous dark dappled palomino filly with snow white mane and tail. At least, she was. When she came here in February. Did I ever tell you the story of how she came here? I'll have to do that if I haven't.

Cabela knew she was a stunner Barbie doll horse perfectly designed by a Master Creator.

She has DIVA stamped in her DNA. Don't hate her because she is beautiful. But she gets it, if you do. She'll just toss her flowy white mane, stamp her hooves, flick her tail and dismiss you.

But Drifter didn't seem to realize that Bela was to be adored and served and from the minute she showed up here, he has run her from one end of the property to the other. (Which isn't saying much. But still.) She has ended up with nicks, scabs, bites and kicks all over her sparkly golden body. So we are separating them as they acclimate.

But it's so funny, because when we take her away from Drifter, Bela whinnies and calls and generally throws a little filly fit. She wants us to let her go back to Drifter. Back to her abuser, so to speak. It happens every time.

A. Maz.Ing.

I don't get it. Rod and I laugh as we watch her try bust through her stall door to get back to him.

It makes no sense whatsoever why she would continue to go back over and over and over, to the horse that continues to hurt her so much. Why does she think maybe THIS time it will be different and maybe he won't hurt her?

So, of course, God has to remind me of the things that I go back to, over and over and over, that continue to hurt me so much.

I am such a horse-head.

It doesn't matter if it is unhealthy food choices, poor financial habits(hello Nordstrom's sale!), television that should not be watched anywhere, for any reason,avoiding church or spending time with Jesus in prayer and reading the bible, or anything else that draws me away from real JOY.

Are you a horse-head, too?

Thankful Thursday

2011-07-28T07:39:00.000-07:00

I'm thankful Summer has finally arrived here in the Northwest and we are not being singed or scorched. In fact, we sat on our deck last night and,I'm not gonna lie, we fought over a blanket. I'm thankful I won.

Because God says to give thanks in all circumstances,(grrrrr) I am thankful for these migraines that are visiting me lately....very thankful that they are not strokes, thankful that they deal-able, thankful that they are not interrupting too much of our schedules.

I'm thankful that God is in a season of shaping me, or disciplining me, or whatever you want to call it. It makes me happy and gives me hope that even though he is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow,which is a GOOD thing, I am not stuck where I am. (Thankful!)

Oh, and I'm thankful for our two goats, Ranger and Ruby. (Yes, I am aware that Ruby has no ears. Please do not mock her as she is very sensitive. Plus, she will know you are doing it because she can read your lips.)

If you click on the Thankful Thursday link, theoretically, it should take you to the delightful host's of today's blog roll. Enjoy your day!

Sometimes, I want God to PhotoShop me

2011-07-25T10:16:00.000-07:00

Actually, He is welcome to use Corel Paintshop Photo Pro X3. I downloaded a free trial copy today. And it is SWEET! (said is highest falsetto possible.)

The special effects and ease of use were what excited me most. I started with a picture of Lucy and made her sepia to a rainbow kaleidoscope.

Then I put up a pic of Rod and me at the beach last year and kind of grimaced when I saw my quadruple face rolls. no doubt caused by all the beer batter halibut and chips at the Pelican Pub in Pacific City. I'm seriously considering a lawsuit.

Anyway, the Corel program has a nifty little tool called "makeover."

Are you still breathing?

There are a variety of buttons to play with including:

*Suntan

*Blemish removal

*Toothbrush

and...

wait for it...

*Thinify.

I'm not going to tell you if I used it or not, but I'll post the picture at the end of this blog.

Anyway, it got me to thinking about how God kind of does photo shop me sometimes. Not physically (although I'd appreciate you considering it, Lord) .

But he works on my heart like that.

All day long. All the time. All year long. He shapes me and molds me and chisels me into a closer image of his son.

And I am telling you this: it is taking some mighty work by the hand of God.

Amen.

Sometimes I don't recognize my faults as faults so I wonder why in the world God is working on THAT.

I'm surely NOT being gossipy.

I'm helping someone understand a certain situation better.

Bless my heart.

Sometimes, if I downplay my faults, they become no big deal and I find I can live with them more easily.

If I justify my sins, I play into satan's hands, follow his playbook, and turn away from God.

The Holy Spirit is the voice that says, "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me."

Satan (who sounds eerily like me at my most nasally and sarcastic self) will say, "Seriously? You didn't even say anything wrong. You may have even helped the situation. You'll probably cause more harm than good by bringing it up now."

Ewww.

I don't even want to hear that voice, do you?

Bring on that photo shop pro program, Lord. And go ahead and use that blemish removal tool. Because I guess I have a few that I need work on.

Here is the photo I have from last year that may, or may not, have been worked on. Also, you may have to question the validity of every photo you see of me from now on.

I love a rainy day

2011-07-21T10:17:00.000-07:00

Just not on July 21st when it seems like we have had our fill of rainy days and then some.
I have been complaining and whining and moaning about the dark and gloomy weather here with the best of them.

Please see my Facebook status' and comments.

But I made a whiny comment to a friend who lives under the "weather dome" in TX and she told me about all the deaths being caused by the extreme heat down there. (thank Jennifer) They are really suffering.

And I want some sunshine.

Wah wah wah.

Last night, I was falling asleep and I felt the Lord nudging me to be thankful for our cool weather.
I was actually thankful for my snuggly down comforter and I did enjoy the smell of the approaching rain. (again)

I am thankful that I can run in the morning and not have to worry about the sun burning down on me.
It's nice that I don't have to water my outdoor plants. (the ones that haven't drowned. I'm just sayin'.)
I'm very thankful there are hardly any gnats or no-see-ems or what-ever-you-call-ems this year.
I am glad that we don't have to hurry from air conditioned building to air conditioned car to air conditioned building.
I am glad that my sun cancer survivor friend (Look, Jen! You made the Blog!!) doesn't have to cover her face with her arms and scurry out of the blazing sun like a sparkly vampire. Or a movie star hiding from the paparazzi. Whichever.

I am thankful that it is a rainy day and I have some coffee to make and a great book to read on my Kindle while I answer work calls. And check Facebook. And check out Nordstrom Anniversary sale.

I'm thankful for the bottle of Pendleton Whiskey hidden waaaaay up top in the back of the cupboard, maybe for such a time as this. It is awful cold and damp out, ya know. They say whiskey takes the chill off, and everything in moderation....

I am thankful for being able to breath in great big lungfuls of cool, clean air.

I love how very green everything is. God has so blessed this place.

No matter how much we rail, rain really is a blessing.

I.Love.It.Here.

"...always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." Ephesians 5:20

Grass is Greener

2011-07-12T08:33:00.000-07:00

My sweat pants are soaked from the ankle hem (which is underneath my soaking wet sock) up to my knees. I went for a wog this morning on my trail loop and it is kinda misty outside.Oregon can do a mighty fine mist, dontcha know.

The ground is pretty wet, which means all the flora and fauna that I run through are wet, which means I get soaked.

I didn't even feel like running today.

I did, but only half heartedly and halfway.

My heart's not in it today.

Don't know why, but I'm feeling a little discontent with my lot in life, which is unusual for me.

Please understand that I love my life up here on the mountain, my husband and family, my job, the animals and everything.

Maybe its because the kids all moved out and took all their noise and their mess and their love and their laughter with them.

Maybe it's because everyone is traveling and vacationing and going on summer missions trips all over the world.

Even Reader Brenda is is Montana at a family wedding.

Why does Montana suddenly sound so exotic and chic?

So many friends are leaving and returning from Slovenia, Greece, Malta/Rome and other locales that I can only dream about. (Holla, Jill! Holla, Hailey!)

Daughter Amy is heading to Georgia next week to meet her BFF's family. (That is Boy-Friend-Forever. We will not allow our baby girl to get married. Ever)

Josiah is heading back to Afghanistan, Mike (Amy's BFF) is still there.

My friend, Randy Alcorn, is in Atlanta at the Christian Retailer's Show (ICRS) and as a blogger friend of mine, Linda, from "Mocha with Linda" was also going to be there, I told her to go say hey to him.

I get the feeling that maybe she thought I didn't really know him, as I read between the lines in her funny post this morning. Pretty amusing. The picture of Linda and Randy waving hello from Atlanta is great. It would be greater if I wasn't feeling all envious and upset that EVERYONE IS GOING SOMEWHERE AND DOING SOMETHING IMPORTANT. Except me.

How whiny am I today?

Don't really answer that because we both know the answer.

Everybody elses lives can look better than mine at times. Their grass is greener.

But if I know that I am being where he wants me to be, and doing (pretty much) what he wants me to do, then it is all GOOD. I am thankful for the place he has put me, and for the work he gives me.

I am.

I am, I tell you.

Or I will be, after I spend a little time being thankful for everything he has given me, Starting with green pastures.

Have a good Tuesday.

The rhythm of Monday

2011-07-11T09:31:00.000-07:00

Howdy good neighbors and welcome to Monday.

Generally speaking, I like Mondays. They have their own special feel and set the tone for the week. They have their own special chore list.

Do you do that?

After a weekend with both a memorial service and a wedding I am so ready for this routine Monday. I'm a morning person, so I jump out of bed ready to go.

~~I went for a run.~~ No, I didn't. My knee still hurts from yesterday, so I'm waiting until this afternoon or even tomorrow morning. I'm scared of injuries that will stop me from running for a week or more So I'm being cautious.

I went out and fed the horses, Drifter and Cabela, and the goats, Ranger and Ruby.

~~I ate my oatmeal.~~ No, I actually had raisin bran. What? Yes, raisin bran. Sometimes, I like to live on the edge like that. If I really want to shake things up, I have eggs ~~or cake batter~~.

I sat outside to spend a few moments with coffee and my Kindle. I'm reading Half-Broke Horses right now and love it. What a fun story! But this morning, I started my new Lysa TerKeurst book, Becoming More than a Good Bible Study Girl. Just finished her "Made to Crave" but that, my sisters, is a whole other blog post.

Time to clean the house, so I move around like a tornado with ADD. Dusting, sweeping, picking up whatevers and returning them to wherever. While I do this, I listen to Dan Franklin on Groupthink Rescue. He talking about Joseph this morning. I love his podcasts. (I haven't finished listening yet because I stopped everything I was doing in order to bring you this absolutely riveting post. You're welcome.)

I also change the sheets every Monday. Don't know how that started, but that's what I do. Yes, you get a picture of my undressed bed waiting for clean sheets. Can this Monday get any better??

Sometimes, like today, I get moving too fast. I'm in such a rhythm that I'm not really thinking about what I'm doing. It's all routine.

Until I go to clean the filter out of the coffee pot, spin around to dump it in the garbage and this happens.

I forgot to replace the garbage can after I swept behind it. Nice.

Well, now that I've completely bored you as well as myself, I'll end this sad,little Monday past.

Do you get in a Monday rhythm? What does your Monday look like?

My beauty secrets...You're welcome.

2011-07-07T10:25:00.000-07:00

They say that your eyes are the window to the soul. If this is true, my eyes are windows to a very old soul.

And the windows may need a little work.

A little pick-me-up, if you know what I mean.

When I was younger it took me mere moments to get ready to leave the house.

Who am I kidding? I didn't get ready. I just left. I looked fine. There were no wrinkles or crevices that needed to be filled in with industrial grade Spackle. My eyes hadn't sunk into my skull like a special effect on "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom." I could get away with wearing extra-glittery eyeshadow.If I did that now, it would just draw attention to the fact that they look like last year's jack-o-lantern.

Not the look I'm going for.

Not that I want a look that says, " I am twelve years old and Lady GaGa is my mentor."

But a look that says "She looks too young to be a Gramma! Are you sure? How can that be?"

or at least , "She doesn't try too hard. And she's not overly scary."

To be honest, I have never spent much time on my make-up or hair. I kind of resent that I am feeling like I have to spend more time on that as I get older.

Usually, I cut corners on make-up and hair care. For instance, as my friend and hair dresser can attest to, I never fix the back of my hair. I can't see it, therefore it doesn't exist. Please don't burst my bubble by telling me of my rooster tail or woman-bald spot in back. Thank you.

Also, I forget, or never knew, the correct way to apply make-up. A few times, I have applied foundation primer and left the house completely forgetting to then apply the actual foundation. (if you need to ask what foundation primer is, please leave now. You are too young to be reading this.)

Another thing that rankles (that word is awfully close to "wrinkles." Dang it.) is concealer. This is my go-to product. This is the product I would take with me to a desert island. This is the product I would fight for should a mugger try to steal my purse. Actually, I have a few (dozen). Some have more coverage. Some are sheer. Some make promises they can't keep, like they will firm and reduce wrinkles and make my eyes bright and awake.

Listen, sister, NOTHING can make my eyes look younger except a time portal from Star Trek. The most they do is make it slightly less horrific to go to the store and pick up the milk before hurrying home and reapplying.

If you see me out somewhere, please do not mention my the white circles encompassing my old, old eyes. If you don't mention that I look like I have Scary Circus Clown Eyes, then I won't.

I don't believe that hair and make-up are the only things that make a statement about who you are, or who you want to be. You can project a certain image with your clothing, as well. Here's a little trick I like to rock sometimes. Not always on purpose, but whatever.

Try wearing your cotton, highwaisted,Granny underwear with your cool, low slung. hip hugging Ann Taylor Loft jeans. This can make a statement. It says "I am hip and happening, but still of a repectable age."

Not guilty

2011-07-05T15:30:00.000-07:00

I have been arguing with myself about whether of not to write this. I don't want to say this.
It is just so obvious to me.
The Casey Anthony verdict was handed down yesterday and her sentencing, for lying to officials, will be today.

I feel it every time some says "I can't believe she was found not guilty. She killed her own child.Who would do that?"

and

"It's not fair. Our justice system is so messed up, She should burn in hell."

I feel the slam in my heart and I cringe.

I want to hide under my bed until everyone is done talking about Casey Anthony and how she should have been convicted and put away forever in the darkest prison cell imaginable.

She is a mom who probably killed her own daughter and got away with it.

I am ,too.

If she did it, she deserves a prison sentence and Calee deserves justice.

I deserve prison sentence, too. And the two children I killed via legal abortion deserve justice. (Click here and here for more info on that.) The way I see it, I AM Casey Anthony, and so are the other women who have had abortions.

I know.

You think I'm CRAZEE. I get that.

Before you roll your eyes and click back to your email or Facebook, I just want to ask a few questions:

Why are we not angrier and more outspoken about the deaths caused by abortion?

Why are we not mourning the deaths and bemoaning the lack of justice for these children?

Is the only difference that one death is legal and the other is not?
Is it because Caylee was older? Because she was born?
I don't get it.
What is the difference? Why is one life more valuable than the other?

The justice system seems so skewed, so schizophrenic and wrong. People keep saying how messed up our system is while pointing at the Anthony verdict.

I agree. It is messed up because it doesn't recognize the value of our children, born or not.
Wearing size 3 OshKosh overalls and pigtails or still safe in her mother's tummy.

Where is the justice for them?

Where is the outrage for them?

Nancy Grace said of the not guilty verdict, "The devil is dancing."

Yes, but he is rejoicing everyday as abortion is allowed to continue virtually unhindered in these United States.
I am outraged and I am mourning.
Even though I am guilty based on the evidence and my own confession,and I deserve punishment, I am not paying the penalty.
It was paid for me.
"In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace." Eph.1:7

Talk about unfair...

Hello-oh-oh-oh

2011-06-30T08:36:00.000-07:00

That is my voice echoing eerily on the inside of my empty, empty house.

The kids, all FOUR of them, have moved out.

When Rod and I are not dancing merrily around in our underwear (Rod) or pajamas (me) or shouting out "Dang it, Jim!" using our extra-loud outdoor voices, we miss the kids.

Yes, we do.

We don't have Amy throwing herself on the recliner after a long day of work with the "BEST ENCHILADAS I HAVE EVER HAD" and regaling us with vet assistant stories that usually include flying blood and other bodily fluids.

We don't wake to the smell of Josiah making us breakfast in bed.(and by "breakfast" I mean: eggs, bacon,pancakes,biscuits,gravy,toast,fruit,o.j. and coffee.It's an embarrassment of breakfast riches.) I'll miss the smell of BBQ as he grills ribs. Not so much the sound of the door slamming as he comes in from a late night wing run.

I will miss all my shopping expeditions with Ashley. Most of which were accomplished in front of our computer screens while wearing sweats or pajamas and drinking our hot coffees.And I'll miss our shared joy of watching some reality shows and commenting throughout.

We miss the sound of Max's bare feet pounding through the office to our bedroom and then slamming the door open to say "Good morning." Or "Gguughhh!" Whichever.

We knew it was just for a season.
We'll miss that season and always remember it fondly.
Now we are looking forward to the coming seasons. And I know the kids are.

But the house is sure quiet right now.

Hello-oh-oh-oh.

Good-bye-bye-bye....

Love you all!

Satisfied

2011-01-21T11:43:00.000-08:00

Do you ever have one of those days, or weeks, or seasons, where nothing satisfies you except Jesus and walking with Him?

Not the newest book on your Kindle, not the hot cup of Starbucks, not your new Born boots, not Cap'n Crunch with Crunchberries, not a jog in the rain or cleaning the fridge, not a hug from your best dog friend, or a visit with a 2-legged friend you love. Not a silent winter snow, or the promise of Spring "right around the corner", as my husband assures. No matter how much you adore them, not even the warm glow of your family laughing over a grandchild's goofy grin can completely satisfy in that time.

It is like sipping weak tea or old, flat Sprite when you are craving, searching for, hungering, no starving for a beautiful, sizzling hot, perfectly grilled ribeye steak.

Have you been there? Do you know what I mean?

Just spending time with Jesus, reading His word, sitting quietly with Him and learning a new truth you had thought you already understood.
Bathed in His joy that has become your own. Laughter and tears mingle. Miracles are not only possible, but are watched for and expected.
Thankful to your bones for His grace and mercy.
Loving Him because He first loved you.

I just want to stay there.

Maybe you live there.

I wish I did.

But so many details distract me.

Dentist visits, groceries, work schedules and invoices, clothes that aren't fitting (see Cap'n Crunch above), hair that won't work today, (that deserves it's very own blog), flood waters raising until it takes out your road and bridge, (okay, maybe that's us) dogs that die, children traveling overseas, American Idol, horses that need to be fed, and slow Internet speed that makes you curse and throw things. (I wouldn't do that, but I have no doubt that you do.)

I want to ABIDE even in all those things. I want to have JOY in the middle of the mundane.
I want my first, middle and last thought to be Jesus.

How do you stay satisfied with God and not find yourself seeking out other things to "satisfy" you?

How do you put Him first?

How do you ABIDE?

Seismic Activity

2011-01-19T09:38:00.000-08:00

Rather, SIZE-mic activity.
But you may have felt the Earth move if you live nearby.
I "ran" this morning for the first time in ten extra pounds.
It is a sad and a happy day. All rolled into a ten pound ball of hurt.

I was thinking about the fact that I consume enough calories for a professional, sponsored marathon runner.
And yet, I am not a marathon runner.
I am, in fact, a professional couch potato. But I am looking for sponsors.

Can you imagine?

My over-large T-shirts could be emblazoned with ads from Frito-Lay, not just the tell-tale orange-y cheese dust.
I could wear "Betty Crocker" hats while I watch "The Bachelor" and eat cake batter.
Gosh, I could go on and on.

I could complain about Ice Storm 1, Snow Storm on the Mountain, Ice Storm 2, and let's not forget about FLOOD 2011!
Running outside has not been possible so I ate instead.
That is how I roll. (get it?)

But the weather is now cooperating, even though it is icy out there.

Let's get our butts in gear!
Let's get moving!

Let's work off this excess winter weight!
Who's with me??

Things to make you smile( or barf) on a Monday morning

2011-01-10T07:23:00.000-08:00

The Ducks game is on tonight and all of Oregon is in a broo ha ha.(Yes, I said Broo ha ha. Is that how you spell it? Not sure.)
We have pep rallys, a kajillion Duck hats, sweatshirts and mugs, as well as Duck songs. There is even a power balled.
Nice.

Whenever I think of the Ducks, I think of the Duck mascot. It is a Duck (Duh..K) that looks like Donald Duck and does push ups.

Something about animals in costume really get the crowds showing their exuberant fanaticism.

This made me remember a blog about animals in costume I wrote a while back and I feel it is worth re-posting on the state-wide holiday celebrating the Oregon Duck's winning season. Here ya go:

Because it is a soggy Sunday, I may have spent more than a little bit of time on the interweb looking up little known factoids to entertain you, ~~the masses~~ Reader Brenda with.

As I was perusing the pet section of Craigslist (WARNING! WARNING! STAY AWAY FROM THE PET SECTION OF CRAIGSLIST!!) I was muttering under my breath about the abysmal regard people seem to have for spelling. I am no perfectionist, not even close, but the mistakes seen here often make it difficult to even understand what they are trying to communicate. Take the title of this ad:

"Dog pasted away"

Was it a horrible Elmer's glue accident?

Could the dog have been a closet scrap-booker?

I read the whole ad, and to be honest, I'm still not sure what happened here, if the dog passed away, or wasted away. But, regardless, I went away.

Next, I found this ad:

"guini pig with cage and fairy costume - $10 "

I didn't even care about the misspelling at this point, or the fact that I abhor rodents of every size and shape.

I was intrigued with the idea of someone wrestling a costume onto their Guinea pig. Seriously...I am making little choking, hacking noises right now. But here is the rest of the ad:

"Give the gift of a rodent this christmas! She looks adorable in her fairy costume! She comes with her cage, extra food, ect. If you want, you can even have her fold-up play pen. I'm moving and she can't come. She has shiny black hair. She's a year and a half old. She's a good girl and will let you hold her, especially if you feed her a carrot stick. NOT AVAILABLE UNTIL DECEMBER 23RD, which works great if you want to give her as a Christmas present. We want her with us for our Christmas celebration, which is on the 22nd. "

Are you screaming, too?

Give the gift of a rodent? Nothing says Christmas like beady little eyes and bubonic plague, I suppose.

I would move away, far, far away and not only not let her come, but not leave a forwarding address. OR a cell phone number. Just in case. If she wears a costume, she might be able to dial a phone.

Shiny, black hair on a PERSON is nice. On a rodent? Not so much. In fact, pretty creepy.

They want her with them for their Christmas celebration? Are they doing a Nativity play? With their Guinea pig in her fairy costume? Are they afraid her new "forever family" won't let her be a part of their Christmas festivities or sit on Santa's lap for the picture?

Unfortunately, this ad did not come with a photo, but because I care about you, I did a search and came up with a couple Guinea pig pictures. Not in fairy costumes, though. But still, enjoyable.

I'm a giver. Merry Christmas.

FYI...There is a Guinea Pig Festival in Peru where they spend all year making cute costumes for their pet Guinea pigs(Look at that poor little girl in the picture above. Grandma is forcing her, saying "Give Pedro a kiss, dear.")

The townspeople dote on their pets, hoping for a prize in the festival....pampering them...fattening them up......because they are apparently tasty little buggers, too. Seriously. They eat them.

Anyway, I need to go tell Rod my idea for our next adventure-vacay.

Oh...and you're welcome. :-)

Letter to my dentist

2011-01-07T07:10:00.000-08:00

Dear Dr. #####,
Thank you for seeing me yesterday and taking such good care of me and my teeth. I appreciated your obvious concern when you noticed how nervous I was because of how the instruments on your tray were rattling because of my quaking. I guess the Valium didn't really take.
Bummer.
I do feel the need to apologize for a couple things.

I'm sorry I couldn't remember which hand you told me to raise (left, LEFT!) when I wanted you to stop for any reason and I just kept flailing both arms about like I was trying to hail a cab. I seriously did NOT mean to hit you and jar your arm. I understand that you needed a break at that time, which was perfectly fine with me. Your apology to me was kind but unnecessary.

I hope you know everything would have gone much more smoothly had I not been so scared. But the dentist terrifies me. Not you in particular. Just dentists. And hygienists. I'll throw the assistants and the receptionists in there,too.

I got up extra early so I would have time to shower before I came. I'm sure you appreciate that. I also carefully applied my makeup as I hoped that would show you that I wasn't scared; that this was just a normal day.
I'm guessing you didn't notice my carefully applied smoky eyes behind the sunglasses you gave me to protect my eyes from that blazing headlamp thingy you wear.
FYI, that was Bobbi Brown's shimmery lip gloss you got all over your gloves. It is a nice neutral color. I thought it would make me brave.

I also straightened my hair, in case you didn't notice, what with all the jerking back and forth of my head as you "extracted" my broken, infected wisdom tooth. Oh, and thanks again for offering to show it to me when you were finished. I didn't mean to go all "Rosemarie's Baby" on you when I said no. Sorry if I scared you.

But nothing probably scared you so much as when I reclined on the chair, sunglasses and paper bib in place, I opened my mouth for the first time and you and I realized together that I forgot to brush my teeth that morning.

Yeah, I know.

Who does that; forgets to BRUSH THEIR FREAKING TEETH BEFORE A DENTAL APPOINTMENT?

I do, apparently.

I sincerely apologize and hope my artfully applied make-up and freshly straightened hair made up for the bits of oatmeal, almonds and raisins you saw lodged between my teeth and for having to smell my Starbuck's French Roast coffee breath. I understand that it sounds better than it smells.
(yes, I know you told me NOT to have coffee, that it interferes with the medication blah blah blah. But I was nervous. I didn't have the strength in me to give up the coffee.)

Speaking of food, I'm sure you'll be relieved to know that I have been following your post op instructions to the "T".
The "soft food" part left me searching and puzzled as to what I could eat. But I scavenged through my cupboards and fridge until I found things that would fit the bill.
I had Lipton Cup-a-Soup (not too hot!) and then a good size piece of triple layer chocolate cake. Who knew that, if desperate enough, one could poke small bites of chocolatey cake into the undamaged side of the mouth until it slid down the throat. I think the frosting really helps it glide down.
And it does wonders for calming one down after a trauma. Not that this was a trauma. I'm just saying it would undoubtedly calm one down after a trauma.

Anyway, I wanted to thank you for your gentle kindness during this procedure and let you know I will come back and see you again. if for nothing else, then to listen to you hum again as you work: "No I'm never gonna dance again...guilty feet have got no rhythm." I didn't mean to startle you when I joined in. Maybe the swelling, the cotton roll in my gum and the rubber dam made me sound a little off key and demented.

But I just wanted to let you know that you made the whole experience, if not enjoyable, certainly bearable. That is high praise coming from someone with my level of the crazy.
Sincerely,
Diane Meyer

Jesus. (and a little Valium.)

2011-01-05T17:06:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow I go in to the dentist to have some cavities filled and an infected wisdom tooth pulled.

Removed.

Extracted.

There really is no comforting way to put it,is there?

A dentist is going to shoot some Novocaine in my gums and yank a tooth out of my head.

I am skeert and very, very afeard.

This is why they are giving me a Valium an hour before hand.

Now I am afraid of what unfiltered things I will say to the dentist and his assistant.

I will probably think I am being quite witty and funny. But reality will be that I am saying wildly inappropriate things and yelling angrily and laughing or crying for reasons nobody can fathom.

Sounds like a normal day in the life of a peri-menopausal woman.

Not that I would know.

Hopefully I will not remember a thing when it is over.

Hopefully the dental office won't send me a "please don't ever, EVER come back here again" form letter ~~like the other dental offices sent me.~~

Though a big part of me feels angry that I even have fear about the dentist, I still find myself seeking comfort and relief from my fears and anxiety by reading some Psalms and talking with Jesus.

Reading verses from a good friend while another friend let me know SHE IS PRAYING FOR ME (all caps, all bold font says it all.) has really moved me. Good thing she is praying because I am pretty much saying eloquent things like "helpmehelpmehelpme-pleaseohpleaseohplease." I am all articulate like that.

He has given me a sense of peace as well as a sense of humor about it. Plus, that Valium should come in handy.

In other news around Diane-World, Christmas and New Year's have flown by in a swirl of twinkling lights, sparkles (hello, Prosecco) and elastic-waisted sweat pants.

I like to dress up, yes I do.

The kids are still living here.

Let's pause for a moment.

Just kidding. No need to pause. Everything is good on the homefront. Nobody has been murdered yet. But if you don't hear from me for a while, please do some digging around the back yard. I'm guessing somewhere near the garden. The ground is softer there.

Josiah and Ashley are still waiting on finding out when Josiah will be leaving for Afghanistan. Ashely is working and both of them are in school, just starting their winter terms. Max is being his perfect, roundy baby self.

Amy just got promoted at her vet clinic and is now working more with the patients (animals.)

Today I heard her asking Josiah how you check pulses and so he is showing her with his fingers on his wrist and explaining the counting when she says, "No, not like that. Let's go try it on Lucy." Lucy is our bullmastiff.

I think Lucy and Lila are going to get lots of free testing. :-)

Cracked me up.

Here she is listening to Lila's heart. Lucy is in the waiting room resting in the comfy chair.

There is my January update for you. We are all alive and well,.

At least until tomorrow...

"I don't know what I'm gonna wear"

2010-12-02T06:17:00.000-08:00

This little girl (click on the link) is too cute and too courageous for words.
She takes over the 911 call that her Daddy made when he suddenly had chest pain and breathing difficulties.
I would want her there for me if I trip on the ice or the dogs knock me over.(again.) Or if I need to go shopping.
Oh yes, she has her priorities straight.
What do you think of her?

This was too cute not to pass on. Thanks, Linda Hill for posting it on FaceBook last night.

I'm a fraud

2010-11-30T07:15:00.000-08:00

Pretty much that's what I want to say. After a while I get burdened with pretending to be someone I'm not and I have an overwhelming need to come clean and say I'm not who I seem to be.

I think because I lived as I fraud for so many years that I still struggle.

I'm not comfortable hiding. I need to be free and sometimes the details of everyday life bind me.

I eat Cheetos. Sometimes for breakfast. I isolate myself for days on end because I'm comfortable doing that.

I have a short temper with those I love the most. (Rod)

Sometimes I think that a delegation from church is going to drive up my driveway, knock on my door and come in and see the dishes in the sink and the dog hair on the floor. (who am I kidding? It's on every available surface.) They'll see piles of books everywhere. Some are great. Some? Not so good. They'll politely inform me that I can no longer attend my church because I am not who I've seemed to be.

Never mind the church delegation. How about Jesus shows up?

I need to be saved. Again. Today.

Create in me a clean heart, Oh God, and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me.

(The above part of the post was written Friday of Saturday this week.The following was written today.)

This past weekend at church, God showed up and spoke to me. He spoke through Pastor Alan who gave the message and Pastor Jonathan who taught the theology class I went to.
Alan said,
"Would you be willing to let the Lord be your source of joy, rather than medicating yourself with Cheetos and isolation?"

If you go listen to the sermon you will be able to pick out my paraphrase. But I got the gist of it. Oh yes I did.

Then later on, Jonathan spoke about the fruits of the spirit in Galatians. He was talking about how he would try to project a patient image, rather than actually being patient. Until his Dad kindly pointed it out to him by saying "so you don't really have to be patient, just act like you are?"

Ouch. Good ouch.

That is the crux of my problem, I think. I don't need to act like I love someone, or act like I'm patient, or try to act kind.

Let God be those things through me.

It is not my job to be those things, to strive to achieve the fruits of the spirit.

I need to abide in Him.

The fruits of the Spirit will be the result of my abiding...resting in Him.

Big sigh of relief.

Yes, these are things I know, but they are truths that I need to be reminded of so I don't stay in the dumps, focusing on myself with in-grown eyeballs.
So, with a resounding "YES!" I say I am more than willing to let the Lord be my source of joy again.

(originally posted in June 08....But wanting Jesus to be my source of joy again this morning. His love, his grace, his sacrifice. His mercies are new every morning. Thank you Jesus.)

Forgetting I'm in the race

2010-11-23T05:53:00.001-08:00

I'm trying to lose some weight.

My goal is to lose 20 lbs by Christmas. I am halfway there, but I've stalled out.
Partly because I haven't been able to run the loop because of all the snow and ice. Partly because of my lightning quick moves of popping anything with butter and/or sugar into my mouth without conscience thought.

I am a Butter Ninja.

I am not in a race with anyone else, just trying to set a goal, get healthy and be able to squeeze myself into a pair of jeans without looking like I squeezed myself into a pair of jeans.

This morning I weighed myself and was ~~spitting angry and ready to kill the next person I saw~~ slightly concerned to see I've gained a pound.

Sure, it might be the rich, buttery hollandaise sauce I spooned onto my chicken cordon bleu and broccoli.

Or the piece of pumpkin cake with cream cheese frosting that I accidentally ate after dinner.

Whatever.

It might be because I now have to exercise on the elliptical machine (read: hated device of torture) where I drape myself over the handle bars and basically hold my weight up with my arms while chugging half-heartedly along.

Yeah, picture that, why don'tcha.

I need to recognize that I am in a race, even if it is only with myself.

If I continue to thoughtlessly eat whatever deep-fried, ranch dipped morsel I see, and only exercise as if I'm a tired mama bear entering her hibernation, I will not reach my goal.

This made me think of the other race I'm in. The other race I always I forget I'm in.

The one that matters more than my battle of the bulge.

1 Corinthians 9:24 Don’t you realize that in a race everyone runs, but only one person gets the prize? So run to win!

Galatians 5:7 You were running the race so well. Who has held you back from following the truth?

Philippians 2:16 Hold firmly to the word of life; then, on the day of Christ’s return, I will be proud that I did not run the race in vain and that my work was not useless.

Philippians 3:14 I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us.

Hebrews 12:1 Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us.

I forget I'm in this race sometimes.

I get a grouchy, tired attitude.

I "feed" myself with things that aren't necessarily good for me, and certainly won't help me run a race.

I don't live as if I'm in training,but as if I'm on vacation and it's all about ME.

I get lackadaisical and half-hearted and don't run with endurance.

Ouch.

My goal for this race is simple:

2 Timothy 4:7 I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful.

This would be my prize:
Hearing the Lord say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant."

Take a minute and just imagine that moment.
Really, think about Jesus saying those words to you when you have finished your race.

This prize pretty much makes my other prize of fitting into a pair of jeans look kind of silly and just about meaningless.

Do you ever forget you are running a race?

Dashing Through the Snow

2010-11-22T07:50:00.000-08:00

So we got our first blanket of snow.
I love snow.
It covers up all the problem areas in our yard and makes it look like Narnia.
It is quiet and peaceful and beautiful.(please remind me of this when I am hating all the snow in February.Thank you.)

It doesn't quite cover all our mistakes. The cover for the grill,however, is buried in the snow next to the grill. We will find it in May, 2011.

Regardless of all the snowishness. I still need to hurry into town, go to Costco and then get my hair did.

According to the news, I need to do this NOW, this MORNING, before the icy claws of old Man Winter grip the entire area and all manner of havoc is wreaked.

The dogs are out of biscuits, and this is BIG.
They come inside after their morning romp in the snow and trot quickly over to the biscuit drawer and wait happily for it to be opened and them to get their snack. It is like Christmas every day.
This is what happened this morning, when they showed up at the empty biscuit drawer:
Sadness ensued. You could see their disbelief and watch as the hope died.
The disappointment was palpable.

So I must go over the river(s) and through the woods and snow to Costco. I will bring the dogs their biscuits so I don't have to experience their accusing eyes again.
So, which boots do I wear out into this Monday weather?The utilitarian Colombian snow boots with world class traction? Or the London Fog furry snow boots that look super cute?
Would it help to know that a mouse died in one of the furry boots a few weeks ago, and there is a possibility that one might be able to detect an unpleasant odor when I walk by?
Guess which boots I'm wearing?
(I am more shallow than you might think.)
(I'll use an extra spray of "Happy" this morning. Just in case.)

Random stuff and also some things

2010-11-19T11:13:00.000-08:00

Erin, my blogging friend did a post a couple days ago on random things that are going on in their lives.
In honor of Erin, and the fact that I have absolutely nothing to say and yet still find myself typing , I too, will do a random post, complete with bullets.
In no particular order.

Thanksgiving is next week. I am bringing pumpkin pie. I am buying it at Costco. Riveting, yes?

We have snow. I prefer it to the rain. The dogs, goats and horses prefer it to the rain. Rod prefers the rain.(worried about getting to work blah blah blah) He will be voted off the ~~island~~ mountain at the next tribal council. The tribe has spoken.

I am staring out the window wondering what the next random, bulleted point will be and how lame I can actually become.

There is snow and ice on the steps that I am staring at, and I should really go scrape that off before someone falls and hurts themselves and can't cook me dinner. Naw.

My friend, Jen and I have been listening faithfully to ~~all~~ both podcasts of "Groupthink Rescue" a weekly production headed up by a teaching pastor at our church. Starts good, biblical discussions and has the potential to shift some long standing paradigms. I highly recommend it. Here is your shout out, Dan Franklin. :-)
I am almost done with Christmas shopping which means I will have plenty 'o' time to work on the organizing of gifts and help for families in need at church this year. So much fun, to work on this! (call/email if you or your group want to help a family in our area this year)

Just got a phone call and the families I have been concerned about this Thanksgiving are now having turkey dinners provided. So thankful for the family that is putting up all the turkeys! Looks like we'll be turkey wrangling tomorrow.

I really do love Thanksgiving. I guess I was just feeling blah. Which makes for a super fun-filled and exciting post, don't ya think?
Me, too.

And turkey is the best. I love it with stuffing and cranberries and gravy. I love it by itself.

Here is the turkey I made in 2007. Yes, of course I took a picture. I cherish the memory of this bacon wrapped, maple glazed, oven roasted beauty.

But, I'll be honest. It made terrible soup. Tasted like turkey pancake soup. Not my best idea.

All this talk of Thanksgiving has cheered me up, and I seriously can't tell you how happy I am that lots of people will get blessed with a delivered Thanksgiving dinner basket next week.
What are you especially thankful for this year?

I thank God for the iPod

2010-11-02T13:48:00.000-07:00

Seriously, don't you?

Also I am super happy this week about the CD by Third Day, Move.

I just thought how appropriate that is, as we have been going through a move this week with the kids moving in with us. (You might be hearing about that a time or 87. It is only fair. They get a roof over their heads. I get blog fodder.)

Back to Third Day and their great, great CD. I just have no words. But you should at least go take a listen.

This CD kept me running an extra .5 mile this morning with me ~~imploding like a an old casino in LasVegas~~ not noticing. (well, almost not noticing.)

I was running the loop while playing air guitar during "Everywhere You Go." Sweet!

The wild air drumming began on "Follow Me There."

And if you are not waving your arms like crazy while singing along with Mac and the guys on "Lift Up Your Face", well then...Go take a listen and then tell me you are not at least tapping your foot a few times or maybe warming up your favorite air instrument.

Honestly, this super sweet, Southern rock-gospel-hillbilly-pop-whatever just makes my heart sing loud and I worship from the inside out.

Kinda like how a microwave works.

Hmmmm.

I really wish I could go all Oprah on you and say "

And you EACH GET A FREE COPY!!! AND YOU!! AND YOU!!! AND YOU!!

But, I am not Oprah, and no one is paying me to say these words, or giving me free CD's to give away so you will have to go get your own. But I would love to hear if you like it as much as I do. Let me know!!

Have a good day, friends!

The "honeymoon" phase with new roomies.

2010-11-02T13:30:00.000-07:00

You may have heard we have some new roomies.

Or cellies, as we sometimes call them.

Our son Josiah, his wife, Ashley, and their son, Max, AKA, Mister, Monkey, THE JOY OF OUR EXISTENCE AND OUR REASON FOR LIVING or Baby.

Anyway, here are a few random things that have been heard around here during the two weeks since they have moved in.

"We get to make dinner tomorrow night, okay?" (this is good for two reasons: Siah likes to cook and we like to eat. Classic win-win.)

"Please don't mop before I have a chance to do it when I am off of work. We live here now, too, you know." (Okay, Ashley. I'll try to hold off.)

"Aaaauuuuuugggghhhhh!!!" This was so high pitched and piercing that I think paint may have peeled off the neighbor's house and was emitted by Rod this morning in bed when Max placed his chubby fingers on Rod's bare nipple, dug in with his abnormally strong fingers, pinched and then pulled straight back. I think Rod may have lost conscienceness before Max lost his grip.

"Why does this room smell so magically delicious and not like wet dirty dog like the rest of the house?" (Ashley sells, and thus owns an outlandish product which simultaneously looks beautiful, heats up some yummy smelling wax and has a sparkly little night light effect going on. I don't even need to buy any and I reap the benefits from my roomie.

"Why are there TWO computers on the desk in the office?" That is so I can ~~change my FB status and watch last night's episode of "The Office", Duh!)~~ work twice as efficiently a before. Duh!

"Wait a second. You just made a call and doubled our Internet speed and it didn't cost us a dime? Are you the man of steel?

"Wow. I had totally forgotten how much fun it is to fall asleep to movies in my room at night. Thanks for the extra T.V., best roomies ever."

Me, grumbling, "Where are all my potholders? Did I leave them out in the camper?" Ashley: "Oh, I'll crochet you one! Look, I'll start now!"

And she did.

"What the heck? Did you clean out the dishwasher? And then you LOADED IT,TOO? But, you're a dude....and I raised you...and...and...oh...(sound of muffled crying as I hugged and kissed my boy.) Sure, all he did was cleaned out the dishwasher and loaded it, and I should probably expect that from roommates.

But I hadn't prepared myself for ADULT Josiah moving in, you see. Being all responsible and stuff. Being a firefighter in a war zone, getting married, having a baby son, sure, I can deal.

But cleaning out the dishwasher and loading it back up with the dishes from the sink. I simply was not prepared.

You want to sweep a woman clean off her feet? Unload her dishwasher and load it back up.

Am I right, or am I right, ladies?

I'm sure I'll have a different list when they have over stayed their welcome. I can't even imagine that now, especially with all the benefits they bring.

Hello, Max! Hi there, faster Internet!

Perhaps in in late September 2012 or next Saturday at 8:11 PM.

I know, I know.

It's all fun and games for now, until someone doesn't want to clean their bathroom, or put away the milk carton that they just swigged from or rub Mama's feet with warm lotion for an hour or two.

But all is not lost.

I figure if the right person reads this, I'll still be able to rent them out for a pretty penny.

My besties

2010-10-26T16:12:00.000-07:00

In honor of the fact that Oprah is having a reunion of the original cast members from the movie "The Sound of Music", and I grew up singing those songs and can still belt them out in the most off-key voice you can imagine, which I do with gusto, I thought I'd make a list of my favorite things this week.

Plus, I was running this morning and IT WAS NOT RAINING, although my lungs did get an ice-cream head-ache. But the dogs and I did not give a fig. (what does that even mean??) We were thrilled to be out on the trail after a dismal couple days trapped by the flood waters and "exercising" on the elliptical.
And I really think Chopper and Lucy suffer from SADD. Sun-All-Dark..Depressed. Lucy slept for 23.5 hours yesterday. Then when she woke up, she was all tired and SADD looking.

But on to today and the LIST OF BESTIES!!

My first new thing this week, my Asics that I scored a great deal on. Yes, I know I already bragged on them. But two things:
1) I hadn't actually worn them out for a run. Now I did. They held up well on the trail. Yay!
2)I forgot that I already mentioned them yesterday and had to go back and look. Yep, I have a BIG life full of important facts and figures that need remembering.

The next thing would on the list would

have to be TEAVANA. My first taste of their White Ayurvedic Chai &Samurai Chai Mate began a troubling, but somehow liberating, conversation in my mind.
Could I cheat on my coffee? Could these warm, earthy and delightful teas take the place of my morning, ~~noon,afternoon,evening~~ joe? Maybe so, maybe so.

While at Costco this week I came across something that I might be willing to do a little prison ministry in order to get. From the inside. From the Hole, if need be. Just a little B & E.
They are sheets.
Supposedly.
I don't believe they have a thread count as they are woven by angels using gossamer butterfly wings as fabric. They are Spalena sheets and bedding and can be found at your local Costco warehouse. Who knew?

While still at Costco, I found the Cast Iron Dutch Oven that I have been waiting

months for. The pictures do not do it justice and when I opened it I heard an Alleluia chorus of celebrity chefs including Bobby Flay and Cat Cora as well as the angels that had been working on the Spalena sheets.

I had a moment.

Visions of the two recipes that I will be making this weekend danced through my head :(They performed an exuberant tango)

A nice crusty artisan bread is easier to make than you might think!

Beef braised in beer and molasses served with garlic and mascarpone mashed potatoes.
No I am not kidding. Be jealous, be very jealous, then go make some for your own family. They will kiss your feet. Or maybe buy your some Spalena sheets....!!!)

Stuff & Things

2010-10-26T06:23:00.000-07:00

Very random week. Zig zaggy.

Cool new word, huh?

You can use it if you want. Just make sure you use it properly and in context.

Thank you.

We'll begin with the begin with the weather. It was very blowy, as Forrest Gump, would say.

I came home from the store Sunday morning (where I snagged the BEST deal on some Asic running shoes...40% off clearance! Yes! Score!) and I saw this on my front porch:

As I said, It was very blowy.

And very rainy. I am still not into the rain, and didn't run outside with the dogs and the new Asics yet. Chopper looks even more glum than usual.

I came in the house and smelled something.

No, it wasn't cinnamon or pumpkin bread. The dogs weren't busy with their fall baking while I was out.

It wasn't old socks or even a dish rag that had had seen better days.

No, one of the dogs decided they would disrespect the fact that I did not put them in the outside kennel on this rainy blowy day,and with nothing but love and kindness in my heart, allow them to stay inside on their ~~leather couches~~ cozy cedar dog beds.

Unwillingly and with growing horror and nausea, I followed my nose to this

I turned and ran with arms outstretched into the kitchen where I saw this:

Back to this:

Now over to this:

Sad, isn't it?

What is really sad is that I was just at the store, buying those Asics and I forgot paper towels.

If you think any toilet paper is going to work to pick up bull mastiff poo, you are sadly mistaken and I don't suggest you try it. Unless you are wearing disposable gloves. And have boiling water and antibacterial wipes and a hazmat suit ready. Just sayin'.

(I used and old shirt. Sorry, Amy. But you left here for the last 84 years. I figured you were over it. But I could wash it and get it back to you...?)

If you are upset with me for putting up pictures of dog poo, a couple things.

First,it is not as if you have never seen dog poo before.

I had to come home, find it, smell it, clean it up.

I should be able to glean something positive out of it and if that means taking a picture, downloading it, posting it and blogging about it so you can share in my agony, so be it.

"Carry each others burdens." Galatians 6:2

Thank you.

Now, because I feel kind of guilty, I'll throw you this bone. Baby Max in a tub. Just let the baby in the bubble bath erase all the horror.

All better

Phone calls in the middle of the night

2010-10-21T08:07:00.000-07:00

Sometimes its scary news.

Sometimes it's good news.

Sometimes you just can't remember.

So I was chatting on the phone with my most excellent daughter-in-law last night and she mentioned that her folks were coming from Idaho to help her and Josiah move next weekend.

As I have noticed that the house deals have not been working out as quickly as hoped for, I asked where they were going to move to.

There was a pause, then, "Well, with you guys....right?"

Then another pause as neither of us said anything, and then both of us shouted, "Josiah!" at the same moment.

I heard Ashley saying furiously "Josiah, you said this was all worked out! You said your parents were fine with it!" And Josiah in the background, probably deflecting blows, saying, "I did! I talked to them! I did!"

A fuzzy memory began to surface of the phone ringing shrilly, waking me out of a deep sleep in the middle of the night, probably after 10, but maybe 9:45 or so, a few weeks before.

I will automatically answer those middle-of-the-night calls because it is most likely the kids calling with an emergency of some sort, like how do you make meatloaf, or have you seen this episode of "House." But I usually stay asleep during the first half of the conversation. Everyone can vouch for this.

So I vaguely remember one such phone call with Josiah, and I seem to remember him asking if he and Ashley and Max could move in until they found a place to buy.

Apparently, I said yes before I hung up.

I'd best get the guest room ready.

The kids are moving in for a bit.

(oh hurray!!) :-)

(I bet they are SO EXCITED)

Not very sharp

2010-10-19T17:31:00.000-07:00

Well, maybe I AM sharp.

You be the judge.

We did not have a real peaceful time of sleep the other night.

The sheets were not cooperating.

My legs and feets (yes, I typed in "feets" accidentally, but it made me giggle so I am leaving it in there) kept getting all tangled and twisted up in the sheets and I was not even comfortable at all, I tell you.
AT ALL.

This is what I found when I woke up.

Apparently, I have toenails that will skin a buck.

Or at least fillet a steelhead.

You better watch out, Rod Meyer.

You better just watch out....

The end.

That WAS the end.

But the real ending happened when I went into our hall closet and got out another fitted sheet. This one is actually made for a pillow top bed. A really really fluffy pillow top bed, which ours is not. So when we put this "fitted" sheet on, it tends to slide around all night and we tend to be all grumpy and complain about it and ask who is going to Costco next, do we really have to go to Costco? Can't we just order some sheets online? Make sure the thread count is high enough.

No, I am no making any of that up. We enjoy bed.

I got this letter from Godfrey today. He is one of our Ugandan Compassion children.He says God is in his school, and that he loves us very much. (We love him, too)

In case you can't see it, he says he thanks God for the program because it provide eggs, blankets and books.

I wonder what thread count those blankets are?

Things running through my head as I stack firewood

2010-10-04T10:55:00.000-07:00

Man, that is one freaking big pile of wood!

Don't look at the pile of wood.

Think good thoughts...

This wood will keep us toasty warm this winter.

I'm hot.

I'm tired.

I'm thirsty.

Am I a first grader?

No, the first graders I know are not this whiny.

Rod will be SO surprised that I've stacked all this fire wood. I can't wait to see his face when he see this!

It will make him happy that he doesn't have to break his back tossing all this wood, or hire someone to do it for him.

Gosh, I sure hope that stack of wood does not fall on me and pin me under there and I have to use the chainsaw to cut off my arm so I can go in and eat lunch. Rod would not like that surprise, I don't think.

Boy, does my back hurt. I am not even kidding. I wonder if our insurance will cover back surgery for me. If I really need it.

I wonder if I'm losing weight?

I wonder what I can eat for lunch?

Why don't the dogs help?

Ingrates.

I'm really hot.

I'm so tired.

I'm still thirsty.

Think I'll go blog for a minute.

Don't tell Rod I'm stacking ~~Mt Hood~~ the firewood in the shed. Let it be a surprise.
I know, most women might surprise their husband with a nice dinner, and/or a little something from VS. But I know Rod's love language. And it is surprise firewood stacking.
I'll let you know how it goes.

Vitamin D and other things that get stuck in my throat

2010-09-30T06:01:00.000-07:00

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. ~~Vicodin~~Tylenol 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.

Chocolate covered...

2010-09-28T07:37:00.000-07:00

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?

Catz. Are they really necessary ?

2010-09-23T07:40:00.000-07:00

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.

Crank and Lemon bars

2010-09-19T13:03:00.000-07:00

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.

Avoidance Behavior

2010-09-16T09:32:00.000-07:00

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'.

Nana Post

2010-09-14T08:19:00.000-07:00

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.

Carb-O-Rama

2010-08-31T12:54:00.000-07:00

Bread.

I wish I could quit you.

But I can't. So I will make delicious bread, like this rustic loaf that will astonish you with it's perfect texture; chewy inside and a crispy crust.

And guess what? It's so easy a monkey could do it. For example, I have made it numerous times and it ALWAYS turns out. No kidding.

The only downfall is you need to begin making it the day before you need it. And you need a Dutch oven or pot with fitted lid that can go into a 450 degree oven.

So if you NEED bread NOW, you will have better chances with your bread machine or a quick trip to Safeway.

Although I have read about this super-easy no-knead bread for a few years, I had never made it until now. Maybe because I was enjoying my ~~easy bake oven~~ bread machine so much.

I got the recipe from The Steamy Kitchen, although there are hundreds of websites out there with this recipe, or one kinda like it. If you click on the link, you will be able to see pictures of this bread being created, step by step.

So, go on now. Make your family proud, happy and full. Make your house smell like fresh baking bread and cover up the scent of decomposing squirrel in your closet. But maybe that's just me.

Rustic, No-Knead Bread

So, let’s start. 3 cups of bread flour in a big bowl.

secret: I sometimes use 1/2c whole wheat flour + 2 1/2c bread flour. This is amazing!

1/4 teaspoon of instant yeast:

3/4 Tablespoon Kosher salt.

Add 1-1/2 cups of lukewarm water.

Stir vigorously with a wooden spoon until everything is mixed together. Not too much, though!

Wrap up the no knead bread dough with plastic wrap. I just cover it in the bowl I mixed it in and leave it on the counter.

Give it a kiss good night and let the no knead bread dough sleep for 12-20 hours on counter or in a nice, warm, cozy place.

Next day:
Dump out on floured surface
Wet your hands. This will prevent the very sticky dough from sticking to your hands. If you find dough sticking to your hands, wet again. With wet hands, grab the dough and fold over all ends towards the middle. Turn dough blob over so that you get a nice, smooth, tight surface. Try to tuck the dough ends under to get that taut surface.
Gently move dough onto a floured towel.

Cover. Let nap for 2 hours. It should puff up nicely and double in size.

secret: When I run out of time, I sometimes let it sit only for 1 hour! If you let it nap in a tall, narrow bowl the dough rises nice and tall, about 6″ high.

If you leave it out on the counter – that is fine too, the dough will rise up and also out….making a flatter No Knead Bread loaf, about 3″-4″ high.They will both taste the same, just looks a little different.

A half hour before the nap ends, slip covered pot into your oven. Crank up the heat to 450F. Let it pre-heat for 30 minutes or longer.

After pre-heating, remove the hot pot from oven. Now plop this wobbly dough into the hot pot. Doesn’t matter how it lands – actually, the messier it lands, the more “rustic” it looks. Shake pot a bit to even out the dough.

Cover and put back into the oven. Bake covered for 30 minutes. Photo below is peeking through oven door after 30 minutes. Then uncover and bake further for 15-20 minutes. To check – you can either tap the bread (should sound low, hollow, like a drum) or take its temperature (should be 210F in middle).

That's it! You will be rewarded with a thin, crunchy brown crust, large, open holes. The bread is slightly chewy, flavorful and perfect texture.

Them dogs don't hunt

2010-08-30T08:30:00.000-07:00

But certainly not from lack of trying.

This morning I decided to start running again because a) my hamstring tendon just barely hurt, and b) the Black Death-sinus infection-fork in the ear thing I have going on might possibly be loosening it's iron grip.

So I headed up the trail with the three bullies. I was in front and saw the coyote just before they did. It was just a few yards up the trail. How weird that it was a mostly black with maybe a little dark brown. Maybe it is a sign, and black is the new gray this fall, but I had never seen one that color before.

Neither had the dogs, apparently. They rushed the coyote so they could get a closer look and commend him on his cutting edge fashion sense. Or eat him for breakfast. Not sure.

But it turned and did that peculiar skippy-hop run that they have going on, and disappeared into the woods. All three bullies crashed in after it. No stealth involved.

I waited on the trail and listened for a few moments before doing what any red-blooded, mountain dwelling, hunter's wife would; I began yip-yipping, whoop-whooping to call it in.

I don't mean to brag here, but my husband is both proud and a little envious of my coyote calling skillz.

He has seen me call coyotes in (actually I think they are coming closer to see what kind of lunatic is making all that racket, but, whatever. They come in.) and has lavished me with praise. Varmint calling ability is clearly Rod's love language.

A few moments later, the dark coyote popped back on the trail, looking around see who had been trying to have a convo with him. When he saw it was just me, he turned and did his little hoppy-skippy run in the opposite direction.

Meanwhile, our brave hunters were making the biggest ruckus our woods have witnessed in a long while. When they finally burst from the trees, mouths wide and panting happily, the coyote was gone. They were so two thousand late.

But from the simple looks on their grinning, slobbering faces, they had forgotten what they had been chasing anyway.

Nope. These dogs can't hunt. They can't even find a squirrel in my closet. We'll be working on that today.

Open letter to Mr.Squirrel

2010-08-27T09:51:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Squirrel,
Let me start my apologizing.
I'm sorry if I screamed and scared you when you ran, uninvited, into my house. You just startled me with your speed and your chattering. And let's face it; you ARE a rodent.
I'm sure you'll have noticed that our dogs, although large, are not great hunting dogs. I do believe this is why you are extending your stay with us.
To be honest, I kinda thought you had left sometime yesterday when I left each and every door and window open so it would be easy and convenient for you.

There are a couple issues that I need to bring up.
Last night, I heard you rustling around in the books on the floor by my nightstand. I'm sure you thought you were being quiet and unobtrusive and didn't hear me wake up. Probably because I wasn't making any noise because I had pretty much stopped breathing.
When Rod turned on his lamp, we saw you run like a rat out of *ell, (excuse the expression) straight into the closet. First of all, I don't think I would scream like that if you would just walk slowly and sedately across the floor, rather than darting around like a tweaking chipmunk on amphetamines. Seriously, If you would step carefully, I would try to use my inside voice.

You ran directly into MY side of the closet. Let me clarify. MY side of the closet where my new Steve Madden lace up, mid calf boots reside. I'm not sure if you thought that would make a cozy place to nap, or a safe spot to store up some walnuts for the winter, or just a place to curl up and do some reading, but let me be clear, Mr. Squirrel. Those boots will not fit you and I do not want to find you or remnants of your stay in the boots. Nor do I want to find the leather more distressed than is usual.
With that said, I do believe your stay with us has reached it's conclusion. Again, I do apologize for the random screaming.
The doors and windows are open. Please leave.
Thank you.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Year of the Insect

2010-07-13T07:35:00.000-07:00

Every year I have hopes that the winter freezes and bitterly cold temperatures will destroy all forms of insect life around here.

Please don't argue with me and say, "But you can't mean the beautiful Monarch butterfly, or the useful earthworm." (yes, that is an insect in my mind.I don't even know if it is actually classified as one)

I do mean all insects. Mosquitoes, gnats and moths.I wish death and destruction upon them all. And they can take their gnarly house flies with them.

Mosquitoes are as prevalent as the grey hairs that are cropping out of my head this year. And way more annoying.

I am looking like I am being slowly eaten alive. Besides the bites all over my torso,head and limbs, I have a bite in my arm pit and and two bites in my ear.

Yes, my ear. Was I sleeping? Was it a stealth-commando mosquito armed with silencers on it's wings? I don't really know. But I do know that I look like either an itchy dog or a lazy orangutan picking at his arm pit. Nice.

Sometimes, when everything gets itching all together, I think I might remind you of your great Aunt Mary-Sue, (you, know....The Drinker) doing the Macarena at the family picnic. HeeeeeeYaaaaaaa!

And mosquitoes are just one of the insects I want to direct the anger of a thousand suns towards.

Last night, I was laying in bed reading with my reading lamp, when two demonic moths began fluttering blindly around the lamp (which is near my head, fyi.), making horrible flutter sounds and leaving their powdery moth residue everywhere. (I'm guessing on that last part.)

I began ~~shrieking and doing an energetic and totally rhythemless Macarena~~ trying to gently encourage them to leave using my inside voice, when Rod turned to me and said, "I like moths and I never try to kill them. They eat mosquitoes." Then he rolled back over.

Eating a mosquito is definitely a plus, but not enough to save their fluttery little lives. You'll be saddened to know they have passed and are no longer with us.

Earlier this week I went into my bathroom, which I have previously thought of a generally safe place. (Don't even go there.) Something on the ceiling caught my eye and I saw what at first looked like generic Oregon slug who had been on the TSFL program. And was consistent. In other words, he was thin.

Something in my sinful human nature made me look closer and I noticed thousands. THOUSANDS, I'm telling you, of legs. Little tiny waving appendages moving the creature from Jurassic Park across the ceiling and towards my bedroom.

Where I sleep.

Correction.

Where I used to sleep. Now that I know insects like this exist I don't know if sleep will be possible.

Rod came running at my roar.After we studied this creepy-crawly creature for a while, and I took pictures, Rod shot it with his .30-06 Remington. (I'm not 100% certain what he used as I was huddled in a corner at the other end of the house, rocking and humming to myself. But it may have been a plastic spatula.)

He brought it out into the kitchen and began to throw it in to the garbage. I don't think so.

I made him throw it into the garbage disposal and turn it on for five minutes. I don't know if these satanic insects have zombie teandacies, but I don't put it past them. I am taking no chances, my friend.

So, long story ~~short~~ long, I really am hating on the insects this year. How about you?

The end.

Jobs and Job

2010-07-07T07:20:00.000-07:00

B'ness has been slow lately. SLOOOOOW. As in DEAD. Work has been harder to come by than unicorn tears. So, each day we pray for work, and we ponder the feasibility of selling our children.
Only kidding.

Unless you know someone who is interested in the fastest barista in the Western Hemisphere or the highest ranked Call of Duty player in Oregon. And he comes with a wife and child. But I don't think I can legally sell them. Not that I would.
Call me.

Anyway, I was reading some Charles Spurgeon last night to Rod out on the deck. C.H.S. was writing about Job and his afflictions and trials.
I know, I know.
Mine don't even come close and yours probably don't either. But he said, "The best piece of furniture I ever had in my house was the cross of affliction. Adversity is the richest field in all the farm of life."

It is rich because we grow during these times. I need to be reminded of that, even in my small suffering and worry. (But honestly? The best piece of furniture in our house is the leather lovesest.Or the pillow topped bed. It is a toss-up)

Mr. Spurgeon ended his chapter on Job by writing this:

"God is glorified not so much by preserving us from trouble as by upholding us in our trouble. In trials we are tempted to grow impatient for God's deliverance, to doubt his wisdom, and to despair of ever being happy again.

As I read this 22nd verse (Job), I wetted it with a tear. In all Job's trials he did not sin by blaming God, yet I, who have suffered so little have often sinned and blamed God. Haven't you? If so, let your tear follow mine. But the tear will not wash away the sin. Fly to the fountain filled with blood and with it wash away your sins of impatience, bitterness rebellion and unbelief."

So this morning, as I went on my run on the Heavenly Loop, I was able to sincerely and honestly thank God for our small suffering, knowing that he loves us and will refine us, bit by bit. I looked at our situation in light of the incomparable immensity of God and the incomparable love of Jesus. It was the best time of worship that I have had for months. The burden of anxiety and worry have literally been lifted off and laid down.
Big sigh of relief.
Now I have to go get ready for the day because we get to watch baby Max today! And I have to post an ad on Craigslist.

I can't hear you....

2010-06-22T07:00:00.000-07:00

(Originally written 2/09. But appropriate for today, too.)

As I stood, shivering in the darkness of pre-dawn this morning on the snowy back deck, I called for Lila to come back into the house.
I could see Lila.
Standing just out of reach with her nose in the air, sniffing for predators which might be lurking about in the dark perimeters of the yard.
If she caught the scent of a raccoon, or saw a flash of coyote eyes gleaming from the dark woods, she'd sail off across the snowy field like a flash and I'd never be able to stop her.
Darn her!
Here I was, offering her breakfast and a snuggle in front of the woodstove, but she just wanted to pursue fun and danger. Great.

As it was, she stood totally still and focused on the place where the trees and brambles met the yard, casually ignoring my calls which were growing louder and angrier. More shrill, no doubt. That's got to be soothing to wake up to. I'm sure my neighbors love me lots.

Seriously, it is as though she has dog biscuits stuffed into both ears and refuses to listen to us calling her no matter how we threaten or cajole. She effortlessly ignores the sounds of my calling without a twitch of her ears to signal that she even hears me. Lila can be three feet away from me, literally, but she is so focused on her own agenda she will will not respond at all.

When we go on runs, Lila moves silently and stealthily through the forest, belly low to the ground, never snapping a twig or disturbing a stone as she travels, hoping she'll encounter a bear or a cougar.

(Can you find the bull mastiff in the picture here?)

When she doesn't, (has she ever?) she'll settle for Rod, me and Chopper, leaping suddenly out of the woods and onto the trail and doing her best to terrify us.

She is so sweet and adorable, and we love her to pieces, but Lila is always moving to her own drummer. Her mind is focused entirely on her own agenda which usually has nothing whatsoever to do with ours.

I hate to admit it, but that sometimes reminds me of myself. Often times it takes a rock to fall on my head for God to get my attention back on Him. He can be calling my name and I'll be focused intently on the whatever has captured my attention and not even hear His voice. Sometimes, to be frank, I just don't want to hear it. Have you ever done that?

Like last night during a particularly eye-opening section of my Beth Moore Esther study. It was painful. I didn't want to work through that garbage. I closed the book and my bible and watched a DVRed Office re-run.

How very like Lila I was! Studiously ignoring the calling of my name to come do some learning and gain some valuable knowledge and wisdom. Maybe do some growing and stretching. Because I didn't want to. Because it was hard. Because I had my own agenda.

What a Lila I am!

I can't help but compare this stubborn dog with Chopper, our other bull mastiff.

When he ventures off the trail during our walks, all it takes it one brief call and the crashing and breaking sounds that ensue make it sound like a herd of angry bull elks is charging us.

But no.

It is only Chopper, grinning crazily at us as he bounds back onto the trail. His desire to please is endless and there is no need to entice with treats as he makes us feel it was the biggest pleasure in the world just to see us again.

He responds to us calling his name as though he has been waiting all his life for the sound. He leaps to his feet in an instant and dances happily over to us.

He looks eagerly up into our faces with his laughing eyes, just wanting to know what we want him to do, or where we want him to go.

His joy is all consuming and contagious.

Even when I have to put medicine in his ear, which he hates, he responds with perfect obedience. No running away or pretending he can't hear me calling. Just calm submission.

At the risk of spiritualizing things too much, I want to be like Chopper.

Searching out Jesus' face eagerly and with devotion. Ready to do His will.

So, have you noticed any Lila tendencies in your life lately?

Do you want to be more like Chopper?

Me, too, my friends.

Proverbs 1:24-25
“I called you so often, but you wouldn’t come. I reached out to you, but you paid no attention. You ignored my advice and rejected the correction I offered.

Isaiah 6:8

Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, "Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?" And I said, "Here am I. Send me!"

How can I stop worrying?

2010-06-21T07:03:00.000-07:00

"How can I stop worrying?" That was listed as one of the top AOL searches this morning, along with "employment websites." ,"NASCAR results and "What happened on 'True Blood?'"

The news tells us that there are riots,explosions, skirmishes and wars everywhere, in the streets and at Nordstrom's during the Anniversary Sale. The Earth is being destroyed by spilled oil, global warming and The Bacholerette.

Tornadoes and earthquakes, floods and droughts are more common than not, and strike everywhere. No place is safe. Or is it?

God's word says that those who live in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty and that He is my my refuge, my place of safety, for he is my God and I trust Him. (Psalm 91)

Advertisements tell us we are not thin enough, are balding, have a multitude of physical ailments which we never even heard of and need a new wardrobe so we can even leave the house . And they have ~~an app~~ a pill for that.

God says His grace is enough. And that He will provide what we need.

We all have our daily worries. New jobs, old jobs. No jobs. Illnesses, Why does my back hurt? What am I going to make for dinner, ~~arguments~~ discussions with spouses or kids, THE RAIN THAT WILL NOT STOP, Will these boots go with those jeans? Why is my friend sick? What if the wrong American Idol wins? ~~What if this blog is too long?~~,What is going to happen tomorrow? Or the next day? (and my worries and concerns are all bigger and more important than yours. Not really. It just sometimes feels like that, doesn't it?)

Charles Spurgeon spoke on addressing our fears and worries in his sermon entitles "My Times are in Your Hands" based on Psalm 31:15 and delivered on May 17, 1891. Here is an excerpt:

"The great truth is this — all that concerns the believer is in the hands of the Almighty God. “My times”, these change and shift; but they change only in accordance with unchanging love, and they shift only according to the purpose of One with whom is no variableness nor shadow of a turning. “My times”, that is to say, my ups and my downs, my health and my sickness, my poverty and my wealth — all those are in the hand of the Lord, who arranges and appoints according to his holy will the length of my days, and the darkness of my nights. Storms and calms vary the seasons at the divine appointment. Whether times are reviving or depressing remains with him who is Lord both of time and of eternity; and we are glad it is so."

"To have our times in God’s hand must mean not only that they are at God’s disposal, but that they are arranged by the highest wisdom. God’s hand never errs; and if our times are in his hand, those times are ordered rightly. We need not puzzle our brains to understand the dispensations of Providence: a much easier and wiser course is open to us; namely, to believe the hand of the Lord works all things for the best. Sit thou still, O child, at thy great Father’s feet, and let him do as seemeth him good! When thou canst not comprehend him, know that a babe cannot understand the wisdom of its sire. Thy Father comprehends all things, though thou dost not: let his wisdom be enough for thee. Everything in the hand of God is where it may be left without anxiety; and it is where it will be carried through to a prosperous issue. Things prosper which are in his hand. “My times are in thy hand,” is an assurance that none can disturb, or pervert, or poison them. In that hand we rest as securely as rests a babe upon its mother’s breast. Where could our interests be so well secured as in the eternal hand? What a blessing it is to see by the eye of faith all things that concern you grasped in the hand of God! What peace as to every matter which could cause anxiety flows into the soul when we see all our hopes built upon so stable a foundation, and preserved by such supreme power! “My times are in thy hand!”

Oh to be able to say 'My times are in his hand.", believe it and then live like I believe it.

“My times are in thy hand.” Does not this reveal the condescension of the Lord? He has all heaven to worship him, and all worlds to govern; and yet “my times” — the times of such an inconsiderable and unworthy person as I am — are in his hand. Now, what is man that it should be so? Wonder of wonders, that God should not only think of me, but should make my concerns his concerns, and take my matters into his hand! He has the stars in his hand, and yet he puts us there. He deigns to take in hand the passing interests of obscure men and lowly women.
Beloved, God is near his people with all his attributes; his wisdom, his power, his faithfulness, his immutability; and these are under oath to work for the good of those who put their trust in him. “All things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.” Yes, God considers our times, and thinks them over; with his heart and soul planning to do us good. That august mind, out of which all things spring, bows itself to us; and those eternal wings, which cover the universe, also brood over us and our household, and our daily wants and woes. Our God sits not still as a listless spectator of our griefs, suffering us to be drifted like waifs upon the waters of circumstance; but is busily occupying himself at all times for the defense and perfecting of his children. He leads us that he may bring us home to the place where his flock shall rest for ever."

Then at the end of his sermon, he lets us know there is struggle in his own life:

"I have not been able to preach on this text as I hoped to do, for I am full of pain, and have a heavy headache; but, thank God, I have no heartache, with such a glorious truth before me. Sweet to my soul are these words — “My times are in thy hand.” Take the golden sentence home with you. Keep this truth in your mind. Let it lie on your tongue like a wafer made with honey. Let it dissolve until your whole nature is sweetened by it....“My times are in thy hand.” This little sentence, to my mind, swells into a hymn: it buds and blossoms into a psalm. Few are the words, but mighty is the sense, and full of rest.

Amen, Mr. Spurgeon.

Cake Batter

2010-06-16T09:51:00.000-07:00

There. I said it.

What is really wrong with enjoying some cake batter now and again? I say nothing is wrong with it. Provided it is not consumed daily. From a cereal bowl.

What IS wrong is that my skinniest sister is taking a Biggest Loser's Boot Camp.

Why is she doing this? Doesn't she know she can just sit down with a bowl of cake batter, a spoon (or a straw) and watch The Bachelorette as they take a gratuitous helicopter ride or cavort on a beach somewhere?

I have to be honest. I just don't get it.

Also, my good friend (who's initials are JEN) is taking some sort of hybrid-Pilates class and now sits up straight thereby making me sit up straighter, even though I really want to slouch some more.

And her husband has mentioned that she is looking like she has "dancer's legs".

Hello, Mikhail Baryshnikov calling...he wants his legs back.

Big whoop, my friend. Big whoop.

Nobody has to tell me that I have the legs of a champion Sumo wrestler a few years past his prime.

And if they DO tell me, I will Take.Them. Down.

I float like a butterfly and sting like a bee. (and I eat the occasional bowl of cake batter.)

You should be so jealous

2010-06-15T07:45:00.000-07:00

(original date: 8/08)

Because Rod and I take the most professional digital photos ever.

Of course I have the proof right here. And you can order copies of any you like especially well.

These are from our trip to the zoo last week.

I'll just make a few editorial comments about each photo, because some have a little story behind them. But mostly I'll try to just keep quiet and let the enormity of our gift speak for itself.

First we have the majestic bald eagle. We caught them looking startlingly unlike themselves and rather like large crows as they groomed themselves.
In fact, you can hardly tell that they are our stately national bird. It is as though we've stripped them of their dignity and basically their identity. That is not easy to do, my friends.

Here, if you look closely, you'll see the elusive zebra. Rather than take a portrait type shot, we have chosen a more subtle view. Like the zebras themselves.

You probably can't even tell what our next little friend is. That is because no one ever thinks to capture the backside of a meercat like we do. Enjoy.

The following two photos would make a lovely framed set. They are the black and white Colobus monkeys. The second picture we zoomed in for a close-up. Our skills defy imagination. (The fence is the story)

The following is one of my favorites. The blurry background and the crisp, clear stalk of grass speak to my soul.

I'm sure you'll agree that we have captured the joyful exuberance of the polar bears playing together in their water here. This was our favorite exhibit of the day.

The next photo was taken in the "Bat Cave" while the bat keeper was in with them cleaning up.(Seriously...not enough money in the world) Rod had just tapped a couple times on the glass, trying to get the bat keeper to turn around and wave at us for a picture. But, strangely, he ignored us and just kept cleaning. We didn't see the warning "DO NOT TAP ON THE GLASS" until we came home and downloaded our pictures.

I don't think the we would have got the gesture we were hoping for if the bat keeper had responded to us. But he shouldn't be too upset. Only a couple bats got upset with Rod's tapping and swooped down on the guy. Hope they don't bite. (If you look closely, you can see the warning on the glass)

Eventually even animal lovers like ourselves get bored with snapping shots of our furry friends and begin taking pictures of each other. In the following picture, you can tell by my expression that I am thinking, "Here I am at the zoo. I'm lookin' good, standing here with my hand on my hip. Oh yeah, I've l've lost so much weight, I bet I look like I did in high school."

Yeah. High school. Hmmm. I look more like I ate three of my high school classmates.

Oh well. I am still wogging and still losing that lovely muffin top that I seem so proud of. Just at a more leisurely pace than I thought, obviously.

This picture comes to mind:

Oh, stop it! If I can't make fun of myself, who can? The clear answer here is NO ONE. So don't even try. Only I can make fun of me, for any reason.

I hope you enjoyed our trip to the zoo through our photographs. If you would like to order copies of any of them, contact me.

FYI: none of the above photos have been edited or Photo Shopped at all. In fact, we don't even KNOW how to use Photo Shop!

I am also thinking of starting a photography blog with hints for beginners and advice for professionals along with a whole gallery of our work for viewing and for sale.

There is a possibilty that I need to have another hobby to fall back on besides the butter.

Things heard on the way to see the baby

2010-05-04T08:47:00.000-07:00

"We have to go! We have to go now!"

"I can't find my phone"

"I can't find my wallet. You better drive."

"Did you put Chopper's cone on him?"

"Now! Come on! We gotta go!"

"Oh my gosh, thank you, God, for this great day!"

"Oops." (drove right by Amy's street)

"How excited are you?!"

"I'm going to just grab him when no one is looking and run home with him."

"I think I'm going to call him Squishy Biscuit. Or maybe Pinecone."

"I can't believe we're finally going to meet Max!"

"What if he is a midget?"

"I can hear my phone ringing! It's probably Siah! Someone get my phone! Find my phone! Answer the phone!"

"You need to calm down so you can drive. Please."

"We're almost there. I still can't believe this. Don't you think Siah is going to be a good Dad?"

"Are you crying again?"

"I don't care what color his hair or eyes are. He's Max."

"I hope Ashley is okay. I'm so worried for her."

"Why can't we go in there yet?"

"Do you think I could sneak in the room if I were wearing scrubs?"

"I think I'm gonna climb through the heating ducts and drop in their room. I really think I could do it."

"Here comes someone! Oh...it's just a nurse. Dang it."

"Nana"

"Poppa."

"How about G-pop?"

"Poppa. That's all."

"Yay! Finally!"

"Oh, my gosh." He is so perfect."

"Blond? Really?"

"I love him so much already."

"Aren't his feet huge? What is up with that?"

"Oh, my gosh. What a handsome little mister."

"I am so happy."

"Wow..."

"Thank you, God."

Tozer Tuesday

2010-04-28T09:08:00.000-07:00

Oops.

It is Wednesday. There goes my clever title.

Oh, well.

I am reading some A.W. Tozer this morning and am not feeling very clever in light of his wisdom. But I am spending these moments basking in truth and am grateful for the way we can clearly see God in his writings.

As my bible study ladies and I have studied God's attributes this weekend, I am finding that I am more thankful than ever for his immutability.

He will not change his mind on a whim.

He will stand firm like the mountain. Ha! Even a mountain will not stand as steadfastly as God, as we well know from recent events around the world.

I can trust him with everything.

Forever.

Do you have some favorite Tozer quotes? What is your favorite Tozer book?

God Will Not Compromise

God never changes moods or cools off in His affections or loses enthusiasm. His attitude toward sin is now the same as it was when He drove out the sinful man from the eastward garden, and His attitude toward the sinner the same as when He stretched forth His hands and cried, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

God will not compromise and He need not be coaxed. He cannot be persuaded to alter His Word nor talked into answering selfish prayer. In all our efforts to find God, to please Him, to commune with Him, we should remember that all change must be on our part. "I am the Lord, I change not."

We have but to meet His clearly stated terms, bring our lives into accord with His revealed will, and His infinite power will become instantly operative toward us in the manner set forth through the gospel in the Scriptures of truth.

I ain't missin' you at all...

2010-04-20T08:01:00.000-07:00

And I am big fat liar.

Because I miss T.V.

I think today is especially difficult because it is American Idol night.

Ryan will be there with his big, sparkly teeth and sharp witticisms.

Randy will be there with his deep, chuckly laugh and his "A'ight, dawg."

Simon will be there with his youth size 12 t-shirt and his smarmy winks.

Kara will be there with her....well, Kara will be there.

Ellen will be there, and that is just sad because I never really got to know American Idol-Ellen. But I'm sure I would have enjoyed her.

I have tried to focus on the good that is being accomplished because of giving T.V. up. But visions of tribal councils on scary,exotic islands and Tyra Banks saying, "Seven beautiful girls stand in before me..." keep interfering.

Yes, I have watched The Housewives of Orange County, okay? I am not proud of myself, but I am not going to be all fake-holy and say I don't know who Vickie is. I do. I'm feeling a little bit nauseous about it, but I do wonder how her real estate business is holding up in this recession time.

So there you have it. I am trying to do the right thing, but I miss the wrong thing.

I wish I could say that since T.V. has been off my house is spotless, I am eating better and exercising more, have lost 25 lbs and never looked better. (well, okay, I'm not gonna lie. Rod says I'm still lookin' fine.)

But Jesus is not more visible than before. My life is not filled up with feeding the poor, visiting those in prison and clothing the nekkid. I have no bible verses ready to hurl at this super-shallow, meaningless situation.

Nope. I just miss my imaginary friends.

And watching T.V. in bed with Rod when I am super tired. I really miss that AI theme music.

Ohh-ohh ohhh oh oh. I'll just hum it quietly to myself today.

As the tears fall.(tears are not really falling. I said that just for effect.)

Doctor, doctor, give me the news...

2010-04-19T11:47:00.000-07:00

Actually, the doctor can't give you the news because we won't go. Well, not as often as we should, perhaps.

Sometimes, we will. Like when it is a "carpentry problem," as Dr. Grise puts it. Like when someone need spinal surgery because walking, standing, sitting or laying down are no longer options you want to experience, or perhaps a blood vessel in your neck dissects unexpectedly and bleeds into your brain.

THEN we go see the doctor.

But mostly we try to self-diagnose. It mostly works really well for us, unlike the time I diagnosed Rod with gas pains.

Yes, we did end up in the emergency room, and he did up having his gangrenous gall bladder removed, but the Tums I gave him initially worked for a short time. A minute or two, anyway.

And Rod may or may not remember it like that, so please don't bring it up to him. Also, he was on strong pain meds, so his memory of the events may not be as accurate as mine.

SO...

We also sometime self-diagnose the dogs. Because if we won't go to the doctor, why should they have to? Don't you all be hating on us now. We love our animals and treat them as well as we treat ourselves. Pretty much.

Which brings us to this...

Yes, he does look like he has been in a horrible skiing (snowboarding?) accident and two 5 year olds have been playing doctor with him.

I know he looks twice as miserable as usual, which is really saying something.

But, for the record, there is nothing wrong with his foot. We professionally bandaged it up like that so he can't scratch his neck. His neck is wrapped up like that because he got a small wound,possibly a tick bite, which became infected when he scratched it. Sad, I know. But not nearly so sad as he is making it out to be.

I know how impressed you are right now. Yes,that is pillow stuffing, Rod's sock and tape. Hello, McGyver.

But, shockingly, it didn't last. Here is what I found in the bathroom after I'd been working and couldn't keep a sharp eye on him.

Kinda reminds me of Lazarus coming out of the tomb. ButLazarus needed help getting out of his "grave clothes." Chopper did it all my himself.

Which brings us to this.

Yes, he is as gloomy as he looks.

Care packages may be sent to Chopper, c/o Diane.

He likes cheese.

Thank you.

This is nice

2010-04-19T10:55:00.000-07:00

I have no idea why I start typing a post and really have no focus or plan. That seems wrong somehow. And it lets you in on a little bit of my crazy.

Welcome.

It was my birthday weekend, which, surprise-surprise, is right smack-dab in the middle of my birthday month. It's really nice how that worked out for me.

So Saturday night I had a delightful evening of dining with friends at one of my favorite restaurants, The Rendezvous. Delicious Northwest-type food, a pleasantly casual atmosphere and, oh, by the way, it is two minutes away from my house which means I could walk there. If I wanted to. I don't. And I won't ever. But I COULD.

The company was divine and we laughed for hours and closed the place down. (okay, it was 9ish, but still...we closed the place down. Don't take that away from us.)
Also we ate oysters. (no, I didn't, but Dennis did and he sat across from me, so seriously...it was almost as though I ate some. eeewww.)
And cat cheese. Which was goat cheese, but Rod said cat cheese which would be almost as gross as oysters.

ANYWAY....

Last night we met the kids and some friends at Buffalo Wild Wings for ....wait for it.....WINGS. Yum. We went there to watch the Trailblazers win. It was so loud, it sounded like we were at the game, except for we had WINGS. Yum.

Again, we had an excellent evening of food and family and laughing. So much fun.
No pictures because I did not bring the camera.

BUT if I had, you would have seen Rod's face when he slowly realised that he drenched, soaked, dumped and dipped his innocent wing into the scary-hot Blazin' wing sauce. We decided it was fire flavored...the blue part of the flame, because it is the hottest part. It was fitting.

Well, we didn't need to tell Rod that because he found out in the most unfortunate way....eating it. Josiah could not stop laughing as Rod's face got red, he began sweating and then his eye lids swelled. (Rod is fine, no need for prayers.)
Amy shoved her hamburger bun at Rod's mouth while Josiah continued guffawing.

In other news, Ashley made me a baby book for Max Riley. Maybe I should say that again.

Ashley MADE me a baby book for Max. (Max is Josiah and Ashley's baby who is due any moment,btw, and I will post about THAT in a day or two.)
I am astonished and impressed with people who can make things. Crafty people. I am not one.

It is beautiful and if Ashley would get on the ball and just have him already, I could begin filling the lovely, decorated pages with pictures of my grandson. :-)

Amy brought me the most gorgeous coffee mug from Starbux, THE OFFICE SEASON 5, hot salted caramel-chocolate, THE OFFICE SEASON 5, an exotic peanut satay sauce and....THE OFFICE SEASON 5.

I am not excited at all. But, if you try to call me today,you might need to leave a message because I have an urgent appointment at the Dunder Mifflin paper company. Please leave your name and number and I will get back to you as soon as I return.
BEEP.

Good-bye T.V.

2010-04-09T13:41:00.000-07:00

I don't think I even remember how to do this blogging thing. But I will try. Because I have something to say.

We turned off the T.V. today.

This next sentence needs to be BIG, something that communicates the full extent of my despair.Because the television is black and quiet.

I am sad. So very sad. And lonely.

I miss Ryan Seacrest.

I wonder what Paula Deen is making? I know it has 23 pounds of butter in it. Bless her heart.

What is happening on Lost? (cross out that one. I could be watching it and still not know.)

So a while back we began talking about turning off the television. Well, ROD began talking about it and I "listened supportively" and then made some popcorn and turned the channel.

Then he told me that we would have money to support two more children in Uganda through Compassion International if we used the Dish Network funds.

So I began weighing my options:

A:a fun filled evening of reclining on my fluffy pillows and watching America's Next Top Model. Good times.

B:helping feed a hungry child in Africa

A:hours spent relaxing and laughing with my bff's Jim, Pam, Kevin, Dwight Shrute and Michael Scott on The Office. Oh the fun we've had.

B: helping house and educate a four year old girl named Esther in Uganda who has no mother.

A: Cheering on my teams during football season while snacking on Crack dip and pizza.

B: Letting a 13 year old fatherless boy in Uganda know that Jesus is alive and loves him, and because of that a family in Oregon cares enough about him to write letters and send money faithfully every month.

I am honestly so ashamed and humiliated to confess that I had to think about these choices long and hard. I may have even shed a tear or two. Seriously.

Nothing is inherently wrong with watching T.V.

But I think I have used it like a drug since I was a kid. I usually tell myself the show I am watching is so brainless it can't be harmful or I don't agree with everything in this, but it's not that bad. I drape myself across a bed or recliner and snuggle up with my brain candy.

At the end of the day,it has been my comfort place, my reward, my refuge.

Wow.

Typing those words just hit me like a sledge hammer.

T.V. has totally been my idol.

I have been trying to get my comfort from reality television.

"God is our refuge and strength always ready to help in times of trouble." Psalm 46:1

"I, yes, I am the One who comforts you." Isaiah 51:12

"God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in our troubles so we can comfort others." 2nd Corinthians 1 :3-4

I'll be forced to be more intentional about choosing what things to spend my time on, and attempting to ensure that I better recognize God's kingship in my life.

In the end, Esther and Godfrey beat out Ryan Seacrest, Paula Deen and Tyra Banks.

Hands down.