My beauty secrets...You're welcome.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.)

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"

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.