I love a rainy day

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

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

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.

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. :-)