Love, Honor, and Obey
I have received a lot of grief and unwelcome teasing regarding my marriage vows.
To be honest, it has made me really upset at times that something said on a sacred day could be twisted and turned into something negative and to be used to make me feel "less".
The acceptance of subjection does not come easy for me.
Consider my unsaved past. Consider the men that have been in my life before this marriage. Consider my own personality. It is understandable that not very many people would see me as someone who would be willing to 'submit'. There are so many worldly negative connotations that come to mind with the mere typing of the word.
Submit. Obey. Subject.
Do I expect people to understand what those words really mean?
I suppose not.
I have only come to skim the surface of what those words really mean. I have not lived a life of understanding what God wants of me. I am still new to learning. I still wrestle with concepts that have been foreign to me for so many years. But there are times when I embrace those words, because I know what they really mean...and they have nothing to do with being worth less than a man.
Still, it harms me to have this turmoil in my life. I want to shout...this MEANS something to me, don't belittle it.
And maybe it isn't that I expect anyone to understand what it means, but to just honor the fact that it does mean something to me. Because whether or not I understand the things that they do, I still have respect their decisions.
Love, honor, and obey...
Not something to take lightly. And I don't. It isn't easy. In fact it's a daily struggle...but one that God has demanded of me.
Respect that.
How to Test My Patience
After I express my feelings about something, tell me that I am crazy.
Yeah...that's opening the lines of communication.
Visitor from Cheeseland
My friend Scott is coming in for the weekend. I've known Scott for quite a long time...since before Zac was born...and for me that is saying a lot.
I haven't kept in touch with very many of my friends from my younger days, and there are only a handful of people whom I have kept in touch with from all of my traveling.
I met Scott in Hawaii. I lived there for three years, that is where my son was born. Hawaii-days were a fun time in my life. Though it saddens me that most of the friends that I made there have all scattered to the wind.
In all actuality, our friendship renewed about 3 years ago. We had lost touch as many people do, with the busy-ness of life.
Scott has made a genuine effort where others have not, to stay in touch with me since that point forward. This will mark his 3rd trip out to Michigan. This time it isn't for a wedding or anything special, and that's good. It means that we will be able to take him to some of our haunts.
We'll introduce him to the ever addictive Bubble Tea from Bubble Island...we'll take a trek out to the Highland games, and we'll most likely hang out in Ann Arbor, and definitley play Gloom.
I know that this weekend will be riddled with opportunities to pick on me, but I anticipate that I will be able to throw back some good witty comments, because it is all about the banter.
Good humored banter of course. I mean...he knows I can so kick his butt.
Helicopters
Yesterday I introduced my youngest child to "helicopter seeds"...the little seeds that fall off the maple trees that spin their way down to the ground.
They've dried up and can be found in piles all over the place, and especially our back patio.
I showed her how if she throws it up in the air or lets it drop from above her head it will catch the air and spin before hitting the ground. She delighted in the affect...it was a charming moment.
Today the trees thanked me for introducing this simple magic to my daughter.
I was driving home through the neighborhood across from where we live. The lane was shady as there are a lot of big maple trees. As I drove, the wind picked up sending thousands of tiny helicopters into flight, whirling across my path.
Tiny spinning seeds
propelled by the windy day
raining down on me
This continued for the entire length of the road.
As I turned the corner out of the neighborhood, a smile was on my face. I remembered the smile, it was the one I had as a little girl. A little girl who loved to climb trees and send helicopters into flight from the highest branches she could reach.
Choices...
I'd like to say that life is full of choices, but in actuality Life IS a choice.
Take my daughter, for instance.
Or take the fact that last night I was suppose to go to a meeting, and I chose to spend it with my family. It was Zac's last concert, how could I miss that?
Today, I was faced with many choices. One of which was to ignore the alarm at 5:30 AM or not ignore the alarm at 5:30 AM. As I rolled around in the blankets, agonizing over this particular choice...I realized that if I don't do it now I never will. So I got up, got dressed, put on a bandana to cover my bed head, put the leash on the dog, and went out for a walk. Yes...I walked at 5:30 AM.
I informed Caleb of my early morning excursion, he pouted that I hadn't woken him. I guess my choosing to not wake him up so early, and let him rest was the wrong choice. So tomorrow morning, I'll be choosing to get him up as well.
After my walk, I chose to eat a healthy breakfast of Special K, orange juice and two vitamins. Then I chose to go to work.
Right now I should be working on my homework...but I am choosing to put it off for a few minutes in order for me to collect my thoughts, my wits, and my sense of humor before diving into what will probably be the worst night of homework of my life.
But it is prospectively going to be the worst night of homework in my life because I CHOSE TO PROCRASTNATE FOR SO LONG.
Yes, life is a choice full of choices. And right now I wish I could choose something sweet and chocolatey out of the snack box...but alas, someone chose to eat it up before I had the chance.
Kassi is...
You Are a Golden Retriever Puppy |
Tolerant, fun-loving, and patient.
You are eager to please - and attached to your frisbee.
|
Kassi-O-Meter
Indication #1 that Kassi is depressed/ stressed/ worried/ or otherwise aggravated:
Finishing off a 1 lb tub chocolate frosting. Might I add that any food item that is served or contained in a "tub" should automatically be categorized as "depression food".
Let's do the math: 13 servings per tub x 80 calories of fat per serving = 1040 calories from FAT.
Right to my thighs and butt FAT. I just had my entire days worth of calories in FAT today. F-A-T.
I think I'm going to be sick. No...wait I can't be sick. I have homework to do.
Birthday Boy
Caleb, Dad, Grandma, Kimi
Today we spent the day with Caleb's grandma. We went to church with her, and afterwards we went to McDonalds.
When I told Caleb that we would be going to church and then the McDonalds afterwards with his grandma he immediately lit up. He told me that this is something that he would do every Sunday with his grandma and his cousin Jamie.
When he was 8 or 9 years old he would order cheeseburgers and an orange drink. Today he ordered two double cheeseburgers and an orange drink.
Afterwards we went to his grandma's house to have cake and ice cream. It was a very nice time, and it is always good to see his family, even for a short while.
I'm glad that we can spend this time with them, and I am glad that my children are now a part of this family. I hope that we will have family traditions, even small ones, that they can look back on in fond memory.
I of course was dead tired through most of this...the cake, I baked it at 2:30 AM, and stayed up until 4:30 AM doing homework. After having the cake and ice cream...I fell asleep on grandma's couch...which is going to be one of my fond memories.
"28"
Japanese Snacks
This year I planned a dinner party for Caleb's 28th birthday. I made yaki-soba, sushi, and our friends brought over a myriad of Japanese snacks. RSVP was mandatory because of the volume of food I would need to prepare. It took me 3 hours to get everything ready. I had arranged with Brian to take Caleb to see Star Wars Episode whatever so that he would be none the wiser. I even pretended to be mad at him before he left. It worked.
The Birthday Toast
This year, instead of singing "Happy Birthday" we made a toast, first to Caleb's mother, and then to him...for surviving so long considering he is the Patron Saint of the Obvious.
Darth Vader's Unexpected Arrival
Everything was going fine. The guys were watching Nausica, a Japanese animation film. And I forget what I was doing...but I managed to notice Darth Vader coming through the back door. Nice of him to RSVP.
Darth Plays Apples to Apples
Regardless of his RSVP faux pas, Darth managed to be the life of the party during a rousing game of Apples to Apples. Though, he became a bit defensive when the flatulence began. I think it was him who started the raspberry fest, but we aren't sure.
Happy Birthday Caleb
The whole Japanimation night started when Caleb and I first started dating. It was how I was able to meet all of his friends. They came over and brought the anime movies, I made yaki soba and provided the Oolong Tea--the rest is history so to speak.
We hadn't done this in quite some time, and Caleb has been bugging to have another Japanimation night. With a lot of help and love from our friends, [I couldn't have done it without you] Caleb had his Japanimation night, and it turned out to be a great success!
Happy Birthday Caleb!!
Wake Up Little Suzie
The story that you are about to read is true,
and by true I mean false...
It's a total lie.
It's an entertaining lie,
but in the end isn't that the real truth?
And the answer is no.
-Leonard Nemoy
*****
Rochelle and I got together for lunch. Something that we rarely do, but I felt that I should stick with this appointment as I have been putting things off as of late, and our relationship needed me to be more present, more dedicated. So we got together and chatted a while.
It was nice. We decided after talking for a good long time that we needed to spend more time together like this. I mean our husbands are brothers for goodness sake. We pretty much only have each other when dealing with the quirks of being married into the family.
Rochelle took out a small Mickey Mouse planner. I had been meaning to buy one and I like hers, so I asked her where she bought it. "Target" she replied. I noticed the sale price on it of $1.00, and we laughed over the bargain. I said that I will probably buy 3 or 4 if they have any left.
We decided that we should just spend the day shopping, and I called Caleb to let him know that we would be late. That is how things happen between Rochelle and I. Unexpected plans. That's okay, and Caleb said he didn't mind.
I decided to tell Rochelle that my boss had given me something important to do, and I had been putting it off for weeks. I was afraid that he would be mad at me.
My boss is a very wealthy single man. Good looking, but too pretentious and I'm married for goodness sake. Anyway, he gave me a ring to give to his love interest. I found it strange that such a highly successful man would be nervous about asking his lover to marry him. But maybe it wasn't nerves, maybe it was that he didn't really find the "asking" part important enough to dedicate time away from the board room.
His love interest is a nice lady. She is older than me and very sweet. My first impression was that she is a Christian, and I found out that I was right when she asked me if I would be interested in teaching Sunday school at her church. To which I said "yes". Though that was weeks ago as well. I started feeling like such a slacker. I have been letting things go for so long.
I decided that I should take care of this ring business right away. Before I lose the darn thing. The price tag on it was $30,000. It was made of platinum and had the largest diamond I had ever seen. The setting was absolutely gorgeous...it was like the diamond itself was set upon a pedastal. I honestly couldn't imagine anyone wearing it. I asked Rochelle if she would like to see it. She of course said "yes".
So I took her to where I had 'hidden' it. I mean, you don't display something of that worth ANYWHERE for fear it would get stolen. I suppose I had been putting off giving it to my bosses woman because I didn't know HOW to give it to her. I had thought about mailing it...and it was in a mailer at the family's house, behind a photo on the living room wall. I know. Very Cloak and Dagger. But what do you do with a $30,000 ring?
Well, we went to the house of the family I am staying with. They are a nice family. The dad is like no man I had ever met before. He isn't my dad, but he was nice enough to let me stay with them until I got on my feet again. The whole family was home, so getting the ring would be difficult. Finally, an opportunity arose and I looked behind the photo and there it was.
I took it out of the mailer and showed Rochelle the ring. It was gorgeous like I remembered, and her reaction was as I expected. The phone was ringing, it was for me. I gave Chelle the ring to stare in awe at while I grabbed the phone. It was my boss.
He tells me that he wants me to give the ring to someone else. That he broke up with the nice church lady. He gives me the details and I say "okay". I am suddenly feeling bad because the other lady was nice...if I hadn't waited so long she would have this fabulous ring.
Then the phone rings again, it is the nice church lady, her name is Robin. Robin asks me where I have been these past few weeks as I was suppose to be teaching Sunday School. I apologize profusely, and now I feel even worse. I'm the cause of two big disappointments in this lady's life.
I go back to Rochelle and tell her what happened and she feels bad as well. But for whatever reason we feel that we need to fix it. I mean, this is an injustice that we can't let go by. This ring, if it isn't going to be ours should not be some high society woman's who probably has a bunch of them already. We decided to devise a plan to ensure that the church lady [or we] get the ring.
We get into the car and start driving to where I am suppose to take the ring to this other woman. I can already tell that I won't like her. Her name sounds pretentious and my boss told me that she would be driving a red porche. I've never even ridden in a porche much less owned one. I don't like her, and now Rochelle doesn't either.
We are on this long road in the middle of no where. There aren't many trees, and the trees that we do see don't have many leaves. There has been a drought and the land scape is barren and dismally dry.
I see the car as Rochelle is speeding along the road. As we near it Rochelle speeds up. We are about to pass her on the road. She has the top down on her convertable porche. She has no idea the amount of rage that she is going to be met with. And then I look behind me and her car is engulfed in flames. The maltov cocktail having left my hands mere seconds ago.
Rochelle and I speed on as the tail of our own vintage convertable Mustang is on fire as well. But the flames go out quickly we are okay. I turn around just in time to see that a grass fire is directly ahead of us crossing our path on this desserted road. We don't have time to stop we are going too fast. We go through it, our car catching on fire, us catching on fire.
I see our faces, we look remarkably like Susan Sarandon and Gina Davis. I yell at us to jump out of the car and we do. Our bodies rolling around on the pavement trying to put out the fire. We are crying and screaming, but we manage to put out the fire on our clothes. But just as we do, the car that we abandoned has lost control and circles back around at us running us over several times.
The car careens off the road into the ditch and finally stops. The grass fire rages 100 feet from the car, and we are two splotches on the road. "Wake up Little Suzie" is playing in my head.
*****
I think this dream is about procrastination...what do you think?
I should know better than to eat a chocolate muffin before going to bed.
Chocolate Muffin: Hair of the dog that bit me
This is my attempt to make doing homework late at night fun. Well, at least the chocolate muffin was good.
Music Baton, Be Ware!
Thanks to Nathan, I am now obligated to accept and pass on the musical baton.
Total volume of music files on my computer:
ZERO.
Are you kidding? My computer can barely handle the stuff I do with it right now...adding music files would surely make it crash. So now you all know I have a very old beast of a computer.
The last CD I bought was:
Casting Crowns [Debut] was the last CD I bought myself. However, I did buy Caleb the Led Zepplin collection recently.
Song playing right now:
"Waiting For You" by Seal
Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:
"Bittersweet Symphony" - The Verve [My wayward ways]
"Waiting For You" -Seal [Engaged]
"Home"-Depeche Mode [Freedom from Mike]
"Big Empty" - Stone Temple Pilots [The drive up to Mackinac Island]
"Breathe"- Sixpence None the Richer [Accepting Jesus]
"Magic"- Olivia Newton John [Because I am]
"When We Dance"- Sting [Our first dance]
"Life's What You Make It" -Talk Talk [Inner Strength-my anthem]
"Isn't It Time" -The Baby's [The deciding factor]
"Golden Years" -David Bowie [Because I love to dance]
"I Am" - Nicole Nordeman [Baptized with my children]
--yeah, this list could seriously go on and on....I LOVE music. If I were to ever pinpoint an obsession...I would say it would have to be music. But I am not obsessed. I'm infatuated.
Yeah...if you want to woo Kassi, you dedicate a song to her. She'll get kneak in the wees. Sucker every time. Good thing she married a musician.
Three people to whom I’m passing the baton:
Fin
Becky
Scott
Whipped
This coming from a girl who would skip sleeping to stay up into the next bright and shiny day just to hang out with friends non stop for an entire weekend.
This was attempted [somewhat] last night. Caleb doesn't go in to work until noon, and well...I am not yet working outside the house, so I am pretty flexible at the moment.
However, as I am awoken to the reality of sunlight, I realize that I can no longer keep such hours. I am actually at the computer, afraid to look in the mirror. My face feels as though it might slide off like a mask that has been pasted on with Crisco, and my fingers are tingly.
Not that last night wasn't fun, oh it was. Caleb ran his game, which for me is always a good time. And then afterwards I had the crazy idea to play Gloom. If you have not heard of this game, you really must and you also have to play it at least once in your lifetime in order to appreciate its charm.
It was nearing 2:00 AM when the competitive bug hit me. Okay, the competitive bug always hits me when I play a game.
I remember as a child sitting at the big table with all of the adults playing Uno. My recollection of that game is rather cut throat. I remember actually being afraid of Draw Four cards and the jeering laughter that would emit from my step father's throat as he laid those cards down in succession pigeon holing me into a losing hand. That's the beginning of my 'desire to win'. As a result, my cousins will not play Monopoly with me--ever.
I have learned to squelch that particular trait of competitiveness. Especially among friends. It has no proper place in that setting. However, my defenses were down at 2:00 AM and I felt it bubbling up within inside me...greed, lust, envy, all rolled into one package tied with a ribbon and labeled with a pretty tag "WIN"...and do so at all costs.
I was playing well. I was actually strategizing. Then I realized that they were ganging up on me, and there was no way to win. As the points were tallied, I felt the scowl in my face and Caleb turned to me and said "What's wrong with you?" And I replied "I play to win" [and stuck out my tongue]. And he retorted by saying that I was being poopy. And I was.
In retrospect I'm glad I didn't win. If I had I would have probably come away with a self important view of myself as the undefeated victor of Gloom. I would have gloated, [following it up with my "ha ha I won" cha cha dance] and that is ugly as well.
After having been thusly defeated at Gloom to which I tried hard to win...I was thoroughly squashed at the game of Fluxx. But, my reconciliation for that is it was the first time I had played. However, I will concede that the winner did a whirlwind attack of strategized play that I absolutely admired--and is something that I would have so done had I the presence of mind at 2:00 AM. What can I say, he is 8 or 9 years my junior, and I need my zzz's.
Perhaps I wasn't the only competitive one at the table last night/ this morning...hmmmm...
In my defense though, my sister is equally competitive, and a word to the wise...don't play Scrabble with us. You have no chance. Our brothers have labeled us "super brains" because of our decimation of their futile attempts at spelling words. Caleb has so far refused to buy me the Scrabble game. No need to feed the monster I suppose.
That said, I am going to go lay on the couch and try to recoup. I clearly picked the wrong time to cut down on my Coca Cola intake.
30 in 30
30 facials in 30 days, that is what it takes for my "power start". Yeah, it's not easy. And I have been hesitating at the phone for D.A.Y.S.
Today I made my first real call...someone who wasn't one of my best friends or a family member. I just had to do it....no matter if they were rude, no matter if it was total rejection...just...call...
---they were nice---
In fact they were more than nice. They want to buy from me.
Elation
Now if I can just produce the same results with my Corporate Finance homework that I have been procrastinating on for D.A.Y.S.
Forced
I have learned, if nothing else that God gives me trials in order to shape me up and give me opportunity to grow. This week has been a list of many trials, none so big that they won't pass, but trials just the same.
One trial, that should send a parent into panic is not having any money for diapers. Yes...that is the situation.
However, being forced to put the potty chair in the living room so that the three year old [and I] won't forget what we bought it for has produced some very good results: The lack of need for diapers.
So, yes...our new decor includes a blue and white potty chair for easy three year old access. But she has been remembering to go...on.her.own.
And even when she does have an accident, it isn't so terrible any more.
No money, no diapers, potty training commences. See? God has it all worked out.
Changed
Recently the question has been posed to me on whether or not I have actually changed.
I know that I have matured in the past few years, probably by leaps and bounds. Life will do that to a person.
I know that I am closer to God. Actually believing will do that to a person.
So, yes, I guess I have changed.
Yet the question bothers me. I hadn't realized that I was that bad of a person before.
Before accepting Jesus as my savior
Before the myriad of 'life experiences'
Before this point in time.
Was I bad?
I wasn't always nice. I was probably down right selfish on many occasions.
But was I a bad person?
Maybe I was.
Maybe I still am.
Have I changed...the question alone leaves me feeling cold, and wondering about myself. Apparently someone out there thinks I am a bad person. And I will probably drive myself to distraction trying to figure out exactly what I have done to warrant such a label.
Maybe my perception of myself has been wrong all along.
Now...I really don't know.
Child One...
Child One; coordinated clothes, designer labels, brushed hair, cipped nails, shiny clean cheeks-always.
Child Two; second-hand clothes, some designer labels, brushed hair [sometimes], shiny clean cheeks when you notice.
Child Three; shirt, pants, shoes. We're good.
Quite possibly I have turned into the mom that I always said I wouldn't. This revelation brought to you by my three year old who has worn a pajama shirt and a pair of floods all day long.
World Domination Through Good Leadership..what? it's possible.
One of my classes this semester is "Project Management". I determined before taking this class that I was going to pay closer attention to what I could learn from the instructor, text, and other students. I thought that being able to manage my time better would only be a plus to my advantage in all areas of my life.
As the class unfolds, I am learning that it is very involved. And the more I look at Project Management, and the ability to do it effectively, the more valuable I will become to an employer, and myself. Perhaps I won't exactly drive myself crazy with overbooking everything. Pace...it's all about pace.
Anyway, the class is going well, and I actually 'feel' myself maturing, learning, and expanding my views regarding how to manage myself and others. I am after all going to school to become a manager of people. I already am, but I don't exactly get paid for it.
This class, like most of my other online courses require me to participate in a group project. The entire project is accomplished through coordinating 5 or more people through communicating via email, or discussion board posting. It is not as easy as you may think. For instance, one main reason why people take online courses through their university is because they already have busy lives. They are trying to squeeze in college courses in what limited down time that they have.
Therefore, trying to get everyone's involvement on a group project is extremely difficult to coordinate. People, who are already pressed for time are asked to put more time into a project, which will severely affect thier grade. Tensions are high, trust me.
Any of my friends will tell you that they know I do not enjoy group projects for the mere reason that there is always...ALWAYS one person in the group that will not...WILL NOT work well with others. They will disappear, or just turn in very bad work. Because the classes are offered to students at different levels of their education, shoddy work could actually mean that they sincerely didn't know exactly how to do APA formatting for thier paper. I know...it's crazy.
Well, taking all of the intricate variables into account, being the group leader is never easy. In previous classes, there has never been an official "group leader" chosen. There has always been a very overbearing faceless personality assuming the role, which generally never works...because I feel that if you are to be the leader you should be voted in, not bullied in. My grade will not depend on someone elses power trip. No thank you.
The difference with this online class project is that it is a requirement to choose a Project Manager. You know...the guy leading the team. Therefore the person voted in will have a lot more responsibility...and the instructor had no qualms elevating the position as a Project Manager to be a prestigious role within the group.
When it comes down to it...it's a big responsibility. The project manager will have to give out the assignments, ensure people are on task, and generally oversee the entire thing, with hopes that the team members are willing to do their part. More importantly the Project Manager is chosen by his or her fellow team members.
So...guess who is the project manager of my online group project for my Project Management class?
ME!
I'm actually excited that I was chosen. And yes, I was voted in unanimously by my team mates. Maybe it is my sparkly brown eyes.
Anyway...I am glad for the challenge, because I know that the skills I gain from this will help me in my MK business. Some day I will want a team of people to guide to their success.
I have on the fence lately and rather kicking myself for choosing the BBM program to pursue. I mean, when will I ever use it? I want to be a writer, or something CREATIVE...because CREATIVE is much more cool. However, this class in the first two weeks has opened my eyes to the value of being able to lead others towards a common goal, and doing it well. Not only that, I have realized that some of what I have learned is SINKING IN...and is APPLICABLE.
Maybe I WILL take over the world.
Measure of Happiness
Him: You're my best friend! I'm so happy, I wanted to make cookies tonight!
Her: *laughing* that's so cute!
Him: Well, cookies are happiness, you know?
Her [to herself]: I can't argue that logic.
How to try my patience
Use the glass scrubber to clean out the toilet bowl.
On the up side you left it IN the toilet instead of putting it back on the counter. Thank you for that.
Rachel
I have many childhood memories of spending time with my cousin Rachel. Rachel isn't actually my cousin. Her mom and my mom know each other. My mom dated her mom's brother when I was very young, and her mom's mom "adopted" us. That is how Rachel became my cousin.
Rachel and I didn't get along. In fact, we quite possibly hated each other. This became apparent in the way that we tormented each other whenever in each other's presence in a way that only children really know how to do.
Her grandma, who was my adoptive grandma, was very nice. So was her grandpa. The whole family for that matter, and they always included me, even though I wasn't actually their relative. So Rachel and I were stuck with each other. We tolerated each other. We secretly found ways to sting each other.
I remember one that at one of Rachel's slumber parties she had whined that she didn't want me there. Because she couldn't make me go away, I was the subject of torment for the duration of the night.
Little girls are ruthless, and slumber parties are not always parties, but opportunities to show how mean you can be. Trust me.
Rachel pretty much got everything she wanted...
Rachel wanted the same hair cut as me, so we went to the salon. I watched on as Rachel's beautiful long blond hair was chopped off. I didn't say a word. The stylist hacked it off, it looked nothing like my hairstyle...I genuinely felt bad as her bright blue eyes glared at me accusingly. But in retrospect I know it wasn't my fault.
Rachel had a horrible little dog named Max. I hated Max. Max liked to hump things...including my foot. Wretched dog. This is probably why I didn't like dogs. I especially don't like male dogs...and I didn't like Max the foot humping poodle AT ALL.
Rachel did everything...soccer, softball, ballet. She went to parochial school. She was pretty, and she was popular. She had a boyfriend who was nice. She got everything that she wanted. Her mom and her step dad were very nice and fun. That is why I liked going to her house. That and she had a trampoline.
Rachel and I were obviously very competitive with one another, even though I was never really the victor on anything. I was not cute, or coordinated. I was not popular or petite. In fact next to Rachel I felt like a big ugly ogre with warts. And yes, I had warts...so that didn't do anything for my self image.
We went ice skating on the lake one afternoon. Her grandmother had a house on the lake, so we spent a lot of time either wading in the mucky lake water, on the boat or ice skating. This time it was ice skating.
We were out far past where we should have been. In fact, we were on the other side of the lake, coming up to a secluded beach shore. The houses were waaaay up on the hill. Rachel wanted to show me how well she could do a figure eight. Rachel was a figure skater as well.
I on the other hand, being slow and uncoordinated, big and dumb...wanted to sit down on the beach. A fallen tree made the perfect bench.
I told Rachel not skate backwards, and watch where she was going because I had spotted some thin ice and open water.
Open water.
Rachel of course did not listen.
Rachel wanted to do figure eights and show me how clever she was.
Rachel fell through the ice.
Without a second thought I skated toward the open water, but not too close. I pulled off my gloves and I laid down flat on the thin ice. She was being pulled under the ice gasping for air. I reached into the lake and pulled her out.
I gave her my gloves, which were dry. I told her to keep moving...just skate and don't stop. She was crying, and I told her it would be okay. Just keep moving.
She reached grandma's house well before I did.
Later her parents told me that if I had left her to get help she would have most likely drowned. They asked me how I knew what to do. And all I could say is... "I don't know".
I was 10, Rachel was 8.
Not long after that Rachel and I stopped being forced to spend time together. I believe that her mom and my mom had a falling out, or they had been tolerating each other as well. I have no idea where she is...only through rumor that she was going to get her Masters Degree in Psychology. But that was several years ago.
Rachel is probably very successful. She may even be a millionaire or a president of a super society comprised of beautiful blonde petite women who own trampolines. But that is okay. I genuinely hope that she is doing well. Because I know...and now you know...one day she needed me.
Happy Adoption Day Roxy!
Dog with balloon on head.
Quite honestly, I have never been a dog person. Thinking them to be slobbering, over excited, and dirty animals. However, last year I began a mad search for a dog. I don't know why, I can't exactly explain it...except to say that I was quite likely obsessed with the idea. All of a sudden I wanted a dog. As if I needed a dog. I have three children, and I was planning our wedding.
I think it was the wedding planning that put me over the top on so many levels. And at the time, getting a dog made absolutely no sense, because it would clearly mean more stress.
However, I was driven. We were actually going to get a puppy. I had finally broken Caleb down to getting a dog, because he isn't a pet person either. His mom never allowed pets, so the prospect of having a dog in the house was not his ideal.
I found some puppies on Petfinder.com. I was trying to get a littermate of a puppy that our friends had just adopted. I thought it would be cool to have the puppies visit each other as they grew older. I missed my mark, it wasn't the same litter. However the puppies were adorable. Little black balls of fur.
[and if you ever decide to get a dog, young or old, I highly recommend Petfinder.com]
We couldn't decide, so we figured we go back for a second visit, and bring our friends Dale and Erin along becuase they are dog owners and I wanted some support in the decision as Caleb was still less than enthusiastic.
During the second visit I had talked myself out of a puppy. Working full time, planning a wedding, three children; a puppy would have been too much, and unfair to cage it all day long.
However, I now was interested in getting an older dog. And the older dog that I decided on was the mommy dog of the puppies we had been considering. It was likely that no one would adopt her any time soon. She was still nursing, and she had been abandoned by her previous owner.
I think part of it was the way that she tolerated Kimi hanging on her neck while her puppies were scampering around her feet. How she didn't mind if we handled her pups, and she was just generally quiet and gentle. For me, it was the fact that she is a momma. Which I am. Therefore we already had something in common.
During the wedding planning stages of my life, things had been going up and down emotionally, and I am fortunate to have a few select friends who were very very supportive during this time. But I needed more. I needed constant support.
And this dog, who was a momma, who had been through some terribly tough times ended up being the most wonderful cure to my worries. She forced me to get out and walk, taking quiet time for her [thus myself]. She is an excellent listener in a busy world.
Certainly, the wedding planning is over. And dog ownership has not always been easy, or convenient...some of her quirks drive me nuts. But she is my Roxy, and she has been a wonderful companion for this past year. And I am thankful to have her in our family.
Friday the 13th Rocked...NOT
Actually, it sucked big time. I think that it is fitting though, considering the type of week I have had.
Starting classes back up for the Spring/Summer session...a few emotional phone calls, starting Mary Kay, getting hired at the nursery, a confrontation with my son's teacher, a few let downs with the banks, and etc. etc. the list goes on.
I am not sure if I have had this tumultuous of a week in a long time. I'm glad that it is almost over.
Tonight we were suppose to go out, but that fell through, and the rest of the day wasn't all that peachy either.
It's almost 2:00 AM and I can't sleep because I drank coffee at 11:00 PM. Yes, I'm foolish like that.
I did get most of my homework done though...so that is one good thing. The rest can wait until Sunday.
Yes...today was a typical Friday the 13th. To top it off, we are now watching Friday the 13th Eleventy Billion Jason Joins the Circus
Booh yah
How to Try My Patience
Make me believe that you are contently watching cartoons as I am cleaning the house; while in actuality you are demolishing an ENTIRE BAG OF HERSHEY'S KISSES.
...kid you are playing with fire.
How to Try My Patience
Dump an entire container of fish food in Merlin's fishbowl...AFTER I JUST CLEANED IT OUT.
...and then there is the three year old.
"Ooh Shiny!"
Have you ever had that feeling that you just know something instinctually? I get that a lot. Especially after I pray.
This morning Caleb could not find his cell phone. He needs his cell phone for work, no getting around it. So when he couldn’t find it he started to panic.
His panic transferred over to me, and we both began tearing the house apart, questioning the three year old and just generally being grumpy.
Then I stopped and prayed to God to lead me to the cell phone. [Caleb was having an attack in the background]. Then it came to me. Elucidation. I commenced with the detective work.
I called Zac. After speaking with him, he confirmed that yes, he saw Caleb’s cell phone on the floor between the dining room and the living room. [By the way, yes this IS where Caleb left it]
So the next deduction would be either Kimi or Abi. We usually jump to the conclusion that the three year old has taken our lost item and hidden it, even though she has never ACTUALLY done this. She usually will play with something she isn’t suppose to and show us, or we will find it in her pile of toys next to the TV. No real mystery there.
Kimi had no idea what we were talking about and in fact insisted that the ‘blue phone’ was in the coat closet. [Caleb looked…no wait, Caleb tore through the closet, it wasn’t there]
So I call Abi at her elementary school. After waiting an excruciatingly long time on the phone [Caleb was at this point having a genuine conniption], I found out that yes, Abi picked up the cell phone and brought it to school with her. I will have to praise her for her honesty. She could have lied, and our living room would be tore apart right now and be no closer to finding the cell phone than finding an elephant doing the hamster dance in my shower.
Abi has been doing all sorts of wacky things like this lately [squirreling, not doing the hamster dance]. I don’t know why, I think it is her age, and maybe the influence of one of her friends…grr…nevermind.
Whatever the reason I do not want to go as far as to label her ‘sneaky’ or ‘bad’. I don’t believe that she is either. She simply finds something that interests her and doesn’t think.
“oooh shiny”
I was like that as a child. I didn’t think much. I flitted from one thing to another without thinking much about it. And I was called ‘sneaky’ and ‘liar’. The most common phrase to leave my lips was “I don’t know”…and I honestly didn’t. Eventually those labels became factual. There is no other way to go when even if you tell the truth no one believes you.
I have realized that Abi is enough like me to understand that her ego is fragile, and that there is no need to bruise her. Besides, she will grow out of the “oooh shiny” stage…well…eventually.
I realize that I am way behind in the movie watching arena. However, I watched The Butterfly Effect last night, and was extremely surprised that it was actually a very good story.
Ashton Kutcher did an excellent job on his portrayal of a guy trying to make right a series of 'wrongs' that occurred to him and the people he cares about.
He was able to make the character 'believable' in an outrageously unbelievable story. It's one of those movies that you just have to enjoy for the sake of enjoyment.
I will be adding it to my list of "Must Buy" movies.
Google Ads, an endless source of entertainment
I've been noticing lately that my Google Ads are influenced by what I write on my blog.
For instance, I wrote the word 'suicide' in one of my posts, and the Google Ads were filled with links about suicide preventions and etc.
Today my Google Ads have links to fart machines...obviously because I wrote about my husband and his farting video game. [By the way, YES...my husband has a remote control fart machine...does he need one? And the answer is: NO]
I think that from now on I will write at least one wacked out post a week on some inane topic just to mess with Google, or at least include a nonsensical topic in a post...I'm curious if anything will come of me writing "rabid whistle pig rampage".
Writing Assignment
This evening my son asked for some help with a writing assignment for his Language Arts class. I don't think he really knew what he was getting into by asking my help...
I tried to be gentle as I explained to him the correct use of punctuation, and how it affects the tone of a story.
I tried to be forgiving of his incomplete sentences.
I tried to be kind when explaining to him that the story in his head is not the story on the paper unless you use all the words to describe your thoughts.
Certainly, I am no expert on writing...not even close. I do believe that writing is important...misspelled words are one of my biggest pet peeves, and I am working to be diligent in the proper use of punctuation.
I believe that this is important because so many people, EDUCATED people no less, are lazy about their written communication. They need to be told that "Spell Check" isn't fool proof.
FRUSTRATION.
I'm not sure that he enjoyed my tutelage. However, I think that we have at least a "B" paper.
Too bad he is turning it in late...we'll have to work on his timeliness...but maybe another day....[irony]
...seriously.
Me: Why is your video game farting?
Him: I don't know...I don't know why it is farting. It's an option...
Me: Quit making the video game fart. I mean, you do that in REAL LIFE why do you have to fart in virtual reality as well?
Him: I don't know...it's funny.
*****
Okay...I would write more but anyone who is anyone, who knows my husband...KNOWS MY PAIN RIGHT NOW.
Max and Booby!
I know that I need to not encourage my children to pronounce things the wrong way, and I am guilty of doing this with all of my children...for instance for the longest time Zac said "Burt" for "Burp", and I know that Abi said a few things 'wrong'...that were too devilishly cute to stop her too soon.
With Kimi I am trying to teach her to say things properly, and sometimes she adamantly refuses...because she could not possibly be wrong.
Her favorite show is about these cute white bunnies, and thier names are "Max" and "Ruby"...but in Kimi's world...they are "Max and Booby".
Tell me that isn't cute and I'll say that you have no idea what it is to enjoy the company of a three year old.
Sunshine Girl
This morning she left for school, riding her bike on her own. I reminded her about not leaving the key to her bike lock in the basket, and to be careful. Always be careful.
She is growing up. Fast.
She is already showing signs of preferring friends over spending time with the family, but not too often. So I can handle this.
Soon though...she will be asking to hang out with her friends and her time here will be less and less.
We'll disagree,there is no doubt. I have no disillusions of this. She is strong willed, and emotional. However, when her temper sets in, I have been careful to let her express what is upsetting her. This does not mean I condone the behavior, but I do try to understand. These times often end in tears and hugs.
I want her to trust me. That I am not going anywhere, that this is where I want to be, and I want to be her mom. She assures me that she is never going to leave me. She states that when she gets married she will live next door. I know that this will probably not happen. I know how childhood plans and dreams shift, change, and become untouchable.
But for now, it is nice to hear that my daughter loves me, and it is good to know that she realizes I love her and I always will.
New Face in the World
A big congratulations out to S and D for their new baby girl!!
And also out to M for becoming a big sister! :)
Lotsa love to your family!
In Other News....
I was offered the job!
Granted, it is a bit less than what I was making before...However, the luxury of choosing my own hours and not having to pay for daycare more than makes up for the lesser pay.
I am going to be gainfully employed again...why is that making me so happy? Because I can contribute to the financial stability of my family, as well as not feel guilty when I go shopping at Target.
Lunch Detention
I received a call, just a few moments ago from my son's teacher. I've received calls from her before about his schoolwork, and quite frankly, she is unpleasant...so I can empathize with my son regarding her personality, and the fact that he has to spend time everyday trying to learn from her.
We established this early in the year...as his teacher began calling early in the year. I learned from her that my son is 'disorganized', 'unprofessional', and a 'dreamer'.
I am not sure that I would want to KNOW a 12 year old who IS organized, professional, and a realist.
However, in her class that is not what she values...so I spoke to my son and tried to give him tips on staying organized...and focused in her classroom. His grade has jumped from a C- to a B+. He has improved greatly...more importantly it has been MONTHS since I have heard from his teacher. In fact, my son is on the honor roll.
Last week Zac informed me that there was a substitute teacher for his class. And total chaos ensued. His part in the disruption was to take a swivel chair from the stage and it came apart in the process of moving it.
He earned himself detention. So I received the call from his teacher. She called because he refuted her claim that he deserved detention...he told her that he didn't agree with her. EGADS!! He has his own mind.
First, thought that I would be completely unaware of what happened, even expressed surprise that I knew about the chair...she was even more surprised when I broke down her story of my son's horrible acts of disruption to this simple statement:
"My son received detention for taking a chair off of the stage".
[Because the swivel chair falling apart is subject to whether or not the chair was put together properly, so clearly may not be his fault--I watch too much Law and Order]
And while she did not like my simplicity in the matter, that is exactly what happened.
Granted, the chair would not have normally been used during the class, but he claims that there were no other chairs for him to sit in. And while I appreciate the teacher trying to impart a lesson onto the students for their less than acceptable behavior, she has failed to convince me that she has thought the disciplines out thoroughly and fairly. Especially in relation to what I learned that the other children were doing highly resembled behavior in the chimpanzee cage at the zoo.
Her rebuttal: I can see now why Zac behaves the way that he does, if you back him up when he is being disruptive.
No, dear teacher. My son tells me what goes on in his day, and I trust him. His grades do not reflect this so-called 'disruptive behavior' and until today you have not mentioned a word about your concerns. Therefore if you really feel that he is a problem in your classroom, please schedule a conference with me.
Thank you.
Have a nice day.
Last October my husband and I watched a countdown of the 100 most scary movies. We were interested to find out what was the number 1 scary movie. [Jaws]
While we watched this program, we were enlightened to a variety of scary movies over the course of movie history. So, I made a mental list of movies that I was going to rent to check them out...again broaden my horizons.
My personal favorites are about ghosts and psychological thrillers. In fact the most scary movie that I have seen to date is The Haunting.
I watched it on Halloween night, very late. While Caleb slept next to me on the couch I sat riveted, unable to close my eyes, both out of interest, and fear. And there was no gore whatsoever.
So, one of the movies that was on my 'list' to watch was The Wicker Man. Something about the way that the narrator said that the last scene freaked him out.
So, finally I rented it. It arrived in the mail, and last Saturday night we watched it. Ironically enough, the movie was about the May Day celebration, so I wasn't off season.
All I can say is that it was probably the most bizarre movie that I have seen. A twisted Fantasy Island...where Mr. Roarke has made his own culture and everyone is unconvinceable to follow decent human laws...and the 'outsider' is the target.
I watched the entire movie because I was compelled to watch it...to see that ending. And I wasn't disappointed, it was creepy. And if I take a literary viewpoint of the movie, it is an interesting addition to our culture, and views of other religions.
But overall, I wasn't as 'moved to fear' as I had hoped I would be. There was something lacking...the characters weren't in-depth enough, I wanted more information. I wanted to feel bad for the main character...but I just couldn't muster it. I felt that he was a fool for staying as long as he did...and should have left for back up at the first sign that the people weren't cooperating. I loathe dumb characters.
Caleb's thoughts on the other-hand were that he didn't like it because their Scottish accents weren't authentic enough.
When the Day Ends...
Today is Mother's Day. I woke up to the sound of my children watching cartoons in the living room. My husband asked if I would like my gifts before or after church..."before!" I stated. I've never been one to wait when it came to presents.
My family bought me some perfume that I had been wanting, and a new pink mug for drinking tea in the morning. My old green one had acquired a crack on the inside of it, and I didn't want to continue using it.
My children made home made cards and I have a new plaster of paris hand print from Abi. I still have the one from when she was 2 years old, I will keep this one on display for a while and then pack it safely away some day.
I sent everyone who I know is a mother a Mother's Day card this year. I was going to only send to those very close to me, and then my family, but as I got started buying cards, I found that I wanted to wish every mother I know a happy day. Many of them probably wouldn't have expected a card from me, but I am learning the importance of letting people I care about know that I appreciate them.
After church we went to Panara Bread. My family loves to go there, and I like the salads. Today's salad had strawberries in it and was delicious.
We came home and found that we were exhausted. Well, Caleb and I were. We had stayed up late last night watching the most bizarre movie ever. So, we told the kids we were going to take a quick nap and then go bike riding.
We left to go bike riding at 3:30. A little later than we had intended, but still it was nicer than getting out there when the sun was too high and too hot. The weather was gorgeous...I couldn't have asked for more.
The bike ride was great. Aside from learning that my second child needs to learn how to pay better attention when she is on a bike, the trip was awesome. We rode through neighborhoods, looking at quaint brick houses. We picked up brochures from the houses that had 'For Sale' signs. There are a few that we would really like to try for, maybe we will, maybe we won't ...but it was nice to 'window shop'. We held out our arms high up to brush our fingertips against the leaves that were overhanging the sidewalks. We smelled lilacs and blossom trees as we rode our bikes under the clear blue sky.
We came home after riding for almost 3 hours. Mostly because we were getting hungry. I had hoped to prepare BBQ chicken, but it would have taken too long, so we settled for my simple favorite, Stouffer's Pizza and vegetable sticks.
After dinner I decided that I should call my mother and wish her a happy mother's day. She didn't answer her phone, I didn't expect that she would. She doesn't answer the phone when I call. So I left a message. "Hi, it's Kassi. Happy Mother's Day! I hope that you have had a nice day."
Then I called my grandma. I felt more inclined to make this call, and I was glad when she answered the phone and was happy to hear from me. After wishing her a Happy Mother's Day, I learned that she had spent the day with my brother's, my sister, and my mom for Mother's Day. A family event. One in which I was not invited.
This is not unusual. In fact, I already knew that they would be doing something for Mother's Day. And I already knew that I would not be invited.
Yet, regardless of how much I know this it never fails to sting.
The confirmation that I had been left out reinforces the very thing that always has hurt me the most. The very thing that has chipped away at me since I was a little girl. The very thing that has tainted every relationship that I have ever had. Unwanted.
Nothing can reduce me to tears, or make me feel like a small child faster than that feeling. Nothing.
And here I am, it is Mother's Day. Three children of my own. Still seeking approval. Still going back to that place...to confirm the one thing that will be sure to hurt me the most, on a day that has been nothing short of perfect.
So I have to ask myself...at the end of the day what do I want to remember about today? How I was once again, not invited? Or the time that I spent with my own children?
If only all my decisions could be so easy...right.
If only I could keep myself from thinking.
Mary Kay Consultant
Well, today's Mary Kay party was a success. I only had three people show, but they all made a purchase. The profits will go directly into a business account so that I can officially start my business.
I'm still not officially a consultant...I haven't purchased the starter kit yet, but I am on my way.
Any trepidition that I had been feeling regarding this business venture is fading away. I want to do this...more importantly it is something that I CAN do.
Thankfully I have some wonderfully supportive people in my life to help me get started. They all realize how important it is for me to stay home with the children...and they believe in me.
For the rest, who were unable to make it today...I hope that they don't mind me calling up to book consultations with them. I hope.
Overall though, everyone has been really positive about this decision of mine. Including Caleb.
In the meantime, I really hope that the part time job I interviewed for calls me back. I have decided that I would really like to work there. It would be fun and interesting, and get me in touch with new people. New friends...new faces.
A very powerful and solemn novella.
The fact that the characters remained nameless did not lessen the impact, and [for me] only amplified what it would have been like for any number of Japanese-Americans who were sent to the internment camps during WW II.
Sinking Feeling 101
I need to work in my execution of naming my price...meaning expressing how much I believe I am worth to an employer within reason...so that I am paid what makes me happy.
Today's interview went really well, except when it came time for me to give my salary expectations...
I know that had this been a salaried position I would have stated the number a bit more confidently, however, when it comes to hourly pay, I get a little nervous. Certainly this job would not be willing to match what I had made as an hourly breakdown of my last salary...not even close.
So...I have to take into consideration those allowances of part time work, flexibility of hours [to my benefit], and not having to pay for daycare.
On the other hand...I ended up short changing myself grievously. And I knew it as soon as it came out of my mouth, and my stomach dropped slightly.
This isn't a high level executive position, I didn't want to come off as playing hard ball with the numbers...this is part time work...not board room work. Regardless, I hate having to name my price...because I don't want to shock anyone...but I don't want to short sell myself either, it's such a fine line.
Anyway, the sinking feeling continued as I sped down I-275 destination: home. So I did what I felt compelled to do...and I called my interviewer back and stated a new number...a number that I felt was fair considering my experience and my college education. Not an outrageous number, and certainly not the number that I know I am worth...but it is part time, and flexible [to my benefit], and erasing the worry of having to find day care...well that is a pretty nice perk in itself.
Hopefully they will call back...but even if not, at least I called back with a number that I can live with...and the sinking feeling is gone.
Mary Kay here we come...
In this photo Kimi shows us her groundbreaking use of creme eyeshadows...note the blend of colors.
See her inventive use of mascara and how it amplifies and enhances her eyebrows?
Kimi has shown us a new ways to accomplish the looks that only Bozo and Ronald have been able to achieve throughout the years...spring time colors...classic look.
Be the envy of all the clowns in YOUR neighborhood.
****
All I could do is laugh...even though she DESTROYED my favorite eyeshadow. Thank goodness it wasn't the Mary Kay...THAT is kept on the top shelf. What little girl hasn't experimented with her momma's make up?
For me, I was into my grandma's make up ALL the time...I've even gone as far as to paint my cousin's faces. My cousins are all boys...being the oldest and meanest has it's advantages. And yes, I have collected the photos for blackmail purposes.
I remember that a couple of friends of mine when I was a little girl decided to dress up like little old women and shuffle down the sidewalk, holding our backs and everything...I 'invented' a technique to create the effect of wrinkles...funny...now I am doing all I can to keep from getting them!
I am having my Mary Kay party on Saturday...I wonder if I should have Kimi share her techniques...no?
Cinco de Mayonnaise
I'm so completely white. And sometimes I feel lost. My husband, who is also white, has jumped deep into his Scottish heritage. If it is Scottish, he likes it...he plays the bagpipes and wears a kilt for goodness sake. So he is white, but he is Scottish white.
Me on the other hand, I am fumbling and floundering just to figure out who I am, nevermind WHAT I am. My family isn't much help in the matter...they don't know either...at least not what I am MOSTLY.
This probably has something to do with the fact that I don't know my father. And what I have been told was information given to my mom many years ago...so she could be mistaken as well. I do feel a sense of 'missing out' because I do not have a particular heritage in which to cling.
Apparently, I am part Native-American, Greek, Irish, English, German...and who knows what else. A mutt.
At any rate, I DO have some family who ARE Mexican [and on my mother's side]. So, today we 'celebrate' Cinco de Mayo. Until last year I had no idea what this holiday was about, and that is lame of me.
However, I do know now...it is when the Mexicans kicked some French booty so that they couldn't move up through Mexico and attack the Americans during the Civil War. Well...that's the shortened version anyway. So it is just as much an American holiday as a Mexican holiday.
And I wish that I could say that I have this sense of ownership over the fact that my heritage did something great, righted a wrong, did some justice...watched a friends back....and have a right to celebrate it.
I don't want to be 'nothing' I want to be 'something' and have a sense of belonging...and 'fit in' and have holidays and get a sense of pride over the fact that I am of a particular people...I want to hear 'We Are Family' playing in my head and get a warm fuzzy feeling inside when I am hanging with my peeps...I want to feel that loyalty...that closeness...that unbreakable bond created by shared experiences...and history...yeah...history.
But I'm just a white girl without any real ties...no real identity...
a muddy blooded...
...American.
And if you didn't catch the sarcasm...I'd just like to say that being an American is all of that [history] and more. Not many people like to admit that they are American...each grabbing onto a sliver of their heritage and hanging on for dear life...because for some, being American means being wrong, and uncool.
It's really too bad that we are trying to segregate ourselves by heritage, when there is nothing wrong with just being who we are...American.
...and for all of you who do not have Mexican blood and who have a speck of intelligence...don't eat the worm...Happy Cinco de Mayo!
****
For anyone wondering, my house smells of all kinds of Mexican goodness right now...but I received this recipe from my Tia Valerie:
Cinnamon Tortilla Chips
1 package pre made soft tortilla shells [or home made if you are ambitious]
1 cup vegetable oil
cinnamon and sugar mixture
paper plate
paper towel lined bowl [large]
Heat oil on high in pan [I use a wok, less splattering]
Cut all of the tortillas into quarters [that's 4 pieces]
When the oil is hot enough, place as many pieces of tortilla that will fit into the pan without layering each other. Let them until the edges turn golden [they will puff up]...flip and let the other side get turn golden and then remove from the pan onto a paper plate. Sprinkle with cinnamon and sugar mixture while still hot, and then place into a paper towel lined bowl. Repeat until all of the pieces have been fried.
Great by themselves or served with mango-peach salsa.
Abi: Oohh those are my favorite!
Nervous
Tomorrow I will be going to my first interview in my search for part time work.
And to be honest, I'm a little nervous. Nervous about the changes that will be required for me to go back to work--even part time.
Granted, I should be able to work part time without it interfering too much with my responsibilities at home...but it will be different...and I will have to make some sacrifices.
The interview is for a place about 1/2 hour away...I wish that it were closer to home...it would be more convenient that way on so many levels.
But I haven't been offered the job, and I haven't accepted anything, so it may not work out. Worry worry worry....
On the other hand...I am receiving numerous calls about the late payment of my car...and the only way to solve that is by working...so I will just have to let go of my nervousness, and trust that God has it all worked out. He does. I just have to let it go and stop fretting.
Recreating the Magic
The real test of a good hair style is whether or not you can create the same look at home. And sadly, my first attempt at my pixie locks did not turn out well.
In fact, my hair looked much like I had dunked my head in wet cement and then tried to brush it out...but I was not discouraged...[okay I was a little discouraged, but no tears]
This is because I bought 'product' at the salon...and this means [ladies listen up] that I can take-it-back if it doesn't do exactly what the stylist says it will do. HA HAAA! LOOPHOLE. Okay, not a loophole, they actually tell you this.
So that means, with all of my futile attempts at recreating the look, if I don't get it right and the product isn't working out, I get my money back. I love money back guarantees...this is why I buy salon products at the salon.
You can't do this with Target or Wal Mart...if you buy the cheap product at one of those stores, you are stuck with it...and if it doesn't work, you have to search for another "cheap" product...soon enough it isn't ending up so cheap. So you may as well buy the expensive guaranteed stuff.
So...I took my concrete textured hair to the salon and bought something different...and took back the stuff that achieved the concrete textured hair look. Booyah! I can test these products all I want, and return what doesn't work...
I came home...washed my hair again...and tried the new stuff. And much to my delight, the pixie locks were back. I AM TEACHABLE...I CAN make my hair look like it did at the salon...and it only cost me an arm...not a leg.
I knew that it would be an effort to get everything right...and quite honestly I feel like a scientist working out different formulas for the perfect concoction...but it is kind of fun.
Oh, and while I was at the salon, I applied for a job as a receptionist. I spent 3 hours there yesterday...they may as well be paying ME.
So you must be thinking I'm nutty. Yeah...well, having a new look is a special event...I mean...doesn't everyone get a new hair cut and promptly return home to do a self photo shoot while listening to Carly Simon's "You're So Vain" ?
Okay, I lied about the "You're So Vain" part, but THAT would have been cool.
Adoption Shower[s]
Last Saturday I went to an adoption shower. A friend of ours from church adopted three children from Russia. They are between the ages of 8 and 14. The kids do not speak English, and the transition has been very difficult for all five people.
And while I wish that I could write more about the event, and the trials that our friends went through to adopt these children from a Russian orphanage, that is not what this post is about. This post is about something more relevant to my own personal experiences...in potty training.
Amazingly enough, Kimi told me each and every time that she had to go to the potty while we were at this function. So she stayed dry the entire time. It was amazing...but that isn't what this post is about either...
See, I have tried getting my daughter used to sitting on a big people toilet seat by having her hold on to my leg while her little butt hangs precariously over the edge of the seat.
And quite honestly, if she were to fall in it would be disasterous for all involved...so 'hold on to my leg' has been a regular enough repetition that she even reaches for me when we are at home...and she has her normal potty chair without the hazard of falling in hanging over head.
So I lean in towards her and let her hold my leg...as usual, which brings me abnormally close to her but for her safety and comfort, it is no problem...until she pees on my foot.
Okay it is not her fault I did not make sure that she was hanging into the toilet all the way...but what does one do when the three year old pees on your foot and you are at a church family adoption shower?
You get a surprised look on your face, giggle, and then admit nothing until you get a chance to blog it. That's what.
And to be honest...I was worried that I wouldn't have a potty story to share about Kimi, because Zac and Abi have potty stories...I didn't want her to be left out when it came to sharing them when they are MUCH OLDER and have children of their own.
Personal Journey Update
I've become lax in my writing the personal journey blog which journals my progress through The Purpose Driven Life. Actually that isn't altogether the truth...I have been waiting. Much of the book is about actively changing things that you do...forming healthy habits based on Christian doctrine.
To create a habit, you need time...so I feel that the book is a little misleading. It is based on the assumption that many things are already in place...which for me, this is not the case.
So I took some time to begin getting more involved in my church, and I hope that I can establish a small bible study group [you all are invited].
Anyway, I stopped at the second section of the book before reading on about my 3rd purpose in life. But last night, I felt it was time to resume bringing me to day 23. It may not be an actual 40 days that you can figure out what your purpose in life is for, but I think 50 is okay too.
Overall though, this is a really good book...the best 'self help' book that I have read. And I have read enough to say that most of the self help books out there are drivel.
Hobbit Alert
And the number one reason why I should lock my doors at night...
Actually this is Caleb showing off the hood and cloak he made...the fact that he is barefoot only adds to the affect of him as a weirdo in a cloak walking around our home...okay maybe I SHOULD lock my doors.
Back to short hair...back to reality
Ever since I can remember I have wanted long hair. Beautiful long dark hair, straight or curly...it doesn't matter.
In second grade one of our assignments was to draw a picture of what we thought we would look like at the age of 25 and then again at the age of 35. Both self portraits I drew of myself were with long hair.
Actually...at 25 it wasn't as long as how I thought it would be at 35...you know...hair grows.
The boy I had a super crush on [Jeremy] drew himself with muscles...he ended up not being so muscley his Jr. Year of High School...
Well...I have always wanted long hair, I covet long hair...I am envious of those who can actually grow long hair...because I can't.
Not that my hair won't grow...it will. Hideously so. When my hair is short it is healthy, shiny and thick...but the longer it gets the wispier, thinner, and scragglier it gets. Okay, take that back...some days it is scraggly...other days I look like Gilda Radner from the early days of SNL.
Oh how I hate thee Catherine Zeta Jones...who, to me, is the epitome of a beautiful looking woman and is gifted with goddess hair.
Prior to me, my husband only dated women with long hair...and admittedly he likes long hair. He is a very tactile person and enjoys playing with my hair...so I am sorry that I cannot grow it long...
My stupid not straight not curly hair...that thins and frizzes as it gets longer...no amount of hair product can cure you, the bane of my existence and beauty regiment.
To be totally honest...I feel a certain thrill when I see that my friends have cut their hair...I think to myself..."ah they are coming over to the dark side..."...and I giggle.
It is because of my own shortcoming...[pun intended]...I have no patience or skill with my own hair...I cannot contort my arms around enough to reach the parts that need the most attention. So my solution...just like any good dictator..."Off with it's head!"
The result...at age 35 I will not have the long-past-my-butt hair that I thought I would when I was seven years old and naive.
I will have short spikey, spunky, funky hair...because darnit I'm a pixie not a goddess.
Kimi's Shopping Spree
Yesterday I drove out to pick up my grandma and bring her to my place to have dinner with us. On the way home, we had to stop at the grocery store so that I could buy the food for dinner and pick up some groceries for the week.
Kimi sat in the front part of grandma's cart, and I pushed my own because I didn't want Kimi getting into the food.
Kimi soon learned what it was like to be a little kid and to shop with grandma. She immediately realized that if she shouted out "Gee-MA...APPLES!" or "Gee-MA...BANANAS!" grandma [Gee-Ma] would put some in the cart for her...
She soon discovered that if she stood up in the cart [she isn't too tall to fall out of it] and reached for the boxes of cookies, doughnuts, marshmallows, or whatever else...grandma would let her put it in the cart.
Grandma would give me the same innocent look that she gave my mother when I would do this at the store when we went shopping...the look that said "I don't know...the child is in control, and I'm along for the ride."
The only difference is that I loved that look...it meant that I would get my way regardless of my mother's protests.
Because it brought back such memories, and I fully support the right of a grandparent spoiling their grandchildren...
Kimi had the doubly fortunate experience that I was not going to protest, and grandma had full reign of spoiling her great grandchild. No repercussions.
My cart filled up with items for dinner; fish, fresh vegetables, key lime pie. While grandma's cart filled up with cookies, doughnuts, rice crispy treats, twizzlers, goldfish crackers, and more of Kimi's favorite 'food'.
Kimi was having the time of her life...never before has she been allowed to CHOOSE things...elation!
And while I know that this experience will make shopping with her much more difficult next time, I think that little inconvenience I will encounter next time at Kroger, will be worth the opportunity to have seen my grandmother and my daughter shopping together.
Clare's Table
Caleb's father bought his mother a table. It was in her kitchen for as long as Caleb can remember. A big oaken beast whose joints squeaked when she would wash it.
Recently, we have inherited this table, or at least it is on a long loan. Part of the deal of having it is that we will refinish it, take care of it...and use it well. [those are my stipulations]
I was pretty skeptical about having it here...for one it is huge, and our dining area isn't. For another, I didn't think that Caleb would actually work on it. Caleb is like his dad. And for as much as I love Caleb's dad, I know how time can slip away and the next thing you know it is 20 years later, and a project that you intended to get done right away, never does. Which is the story of this table.
Clare had waited 20 years [or more] to have this antique table refinished and glossed so that she could display her find in her home. Instead it ended up under piles of paper and other items, in the corner of the kitchen. I'm sure that is not what she had envisioned when she purchased this table.
So, I have been prodding Caleb to work on it...fit it into his busy schedule...because I think that the dining room table is one of the most important focal points of a home. We sit together for dinner there...we debate there, and we have our friends over to play cards there. A table is to be cared for because we do spend a lot of time around it.
Having this table, and refinishing it will fulfill two goals...I hope. 1. To dedicate it to his mother's memory as a place of honor...and 2. To provide our family with a cherished place in which we can create our own memories of family time.
Yesterday...Caleb was very motivated to work on the table...and it didn't take Zac long to get involved. Zac has been taking woodshop in school and he really likes working with tools. I hope that he does something with that interest some day.
You can see them both hard at work...or at least having fun with our new power tools.
Our neighbors actually didn't complain about the noise...instead those that came by asked questions about the table...where it came from, and why we are refinishing it...and Caleb told them the story about how his dad bought it for his mom so long ago...and now that she has passed away, it has come to us, and now...since Mother's Day is next Sunday, he wants to finish the table...in his mother's memory and as a present for me...because I want to display the table just as Clare did.
In fact, I will be using her tea set as a centerpiece...
I know that technically the table is ours, and we probably won't ever have to give it back to his dad...but I think that this will always be Clare's table. And I am honored that it is in my home and under my care.
