You have brought so much laughter with you into the world!

Since three years of age, I have desired to be a coffee drinker. My mom is addicted to the stuff; she drinks it black, and I grew up watching her relax as she sipped away at a steamy cup of liquid heaven. The smell, too, entices me so. It smells like sophistication and laid-back happiness.

My earliest attempt at coffee came one morning when I was four. Mom allowed me to take a sip out of her cup after it had cooled sufficiently. Excitedly I slurped it into my mouth and held it. The acrid taste shocked my poor little tongue, and I automatically opened my mouth to let the liquid escape. It cascaded down the front of my nightgown, and Mom decided that she would not be giving me any more sips from her cup even though I begged often.

Over the years, I have attempted a few other times to drink coffee or any variation thereof. In high school, a friend recommended adding a half cup to our hot cocoa, and I enthusiastically agreed. At last, a coffee concoction that would stay in my mouth, I thought excitedly. The first sip quickly informed my tastebuds that this was not an option for me, and I sadly gave the rest of my chocolate coffee to my friend.

Once, in college, I dumped enough milk and sugar into a coffee cup to rival General Mills' entire sugary cereal division, and I couldn't even swallow the first sip. (It wasn't because of the milk and sugar, either.)

So you can imagine my skepticism when earlier this summer, Melody said, "Here try some of this; you'll love it," and thrust a Smokey Row cup of Sweet Georgia Brown towards me. I inhaled wistfully before reminding her of my coffee-challenged taste buds. "But this has brown sugar, honey and steamed milk in it," she replied. Hope poked a tiny hole in my cloud of skepticism, and I tentatively lifted the styrofoam cup to my lips. My tongue depicted a hint of the acrid espresso but welcomingly embraced the brown sugar, honey and milk. The two flavors danced tastefully on my tongue before my throat opened. I had officially swallowed my first mouthful of coffee! I carefully tasted three more sips before handing the drink back to Melody. With a face of delight and a voice of awe I told her, "I liked it! I really liked it!"

However, four days later, when Mel surprised me with my own cup of Sweet Georgia Brown, I knew after the second sip that my mouth would no longer cooperate. The acrid espresso dominated the drink, and it was too much for my wimpy tastebuds. Sadly, I poured the aromatic remaining liquid into the sink and disposed of the cup.

Then last month, Kathy and I explored the small town of Clear Lake, and Kathy insisted on entering a local coffee shop called The Coffee Cabin for her daily caffeine fix. I decided to try once again. I ordered a small, turtle frappaccino and instructed the barrista to give me only half of the normal amount of espresso, while Kathy eagerly informed the woman that she would gladly accept the other half of my espresso in addition to her own. My order arrived complete with chocolate syrup, whipped cream and caramel drizzlings. And it was good! I drank almost the entire glass, wimping out at the end due to a sugar high instead of my normal espresso reasons.

Once back in my own town, I began longing for the air of sophistication that I associate with casually sipping a cup of coffee. Well, that and I had begun craving the mixture of sweet and sharp flavorings and the smell of roasting coffee beans that only a cup of java can supply. So when Craig told me he was making a Smokey Row run and offered to pick something up for me, I immediately ordered an iced Sweet Georgia Brown with half a shot of espresso. (Except I had forgotten the name and called it an Alabama Brown? Lousianna Brown? until he laughed at me.)
He brought the drink back to our office, and I luxuriously pulled sweet draughts of the cool beverage into my mouth. I sucked on it all morning, reveling in the sweet acridity and the incredible aroma.

I've found the secret: lots of steamed milk and only half a shot of espresso. That's how I drink sophistication.

Kimmie was tuning the radio a few nights ago and became frustrated over a weak signal. She switched to the AM frequency and we began listening to a news cast.

Kimmie: You know this isn't really happening. This is tomorrow morning's news.
Me: (puzzled) Why do you say that?
Kimmie: Because I switched it to AM.

At least she used some logic!

I am very thankful for the extremely powerful imagination that God has given me, but sometimes it gets me into trouble...or at least into embarrassment.

When Jeremy and I first got married, he caught me in the bathroom "talking to the wall," and he has been teasing me about it ever since. What he doesn't know (and what he is learning right now if he is reading this) is that I was not talking to the wall. I was talking to an imaginary person who happened to be in the room with me. I'm sure some of you are now backing away from your computer screens and searching the phone book for the name of a good psychiatrist to refer me to, while others of you are smiling and nodding in identification. (Or at least I hope some of you are smiling and nodding in identification. I would hate to be the only grown up who still talks to imaginary people.) Yikes, now I'm getting paranoid about letting this blog out into the world, but oh well, this is me. Laugh if you must! :-)

My imagination sometimes makes it hard to separate fantasy and reality, especially when I am involved in a REALLY good book. This is difficult to describe, but even though I KNOW what reality looks like, sometimes when I'm reading or just finished reading, the edges of fact and fiction begin to blend.

I can remember one Saturday night when I was in third grade. I had entwined myself into a fictional account of a scientist who frantically experimented to refine a miracle drug that would save millions of soldiers' lives. The book was set during World War II, and the drug being refined was penicillin. Dr. Joe's top secret experiments with penicillin were somehow being leaked into enemy hands, and a plot had developed to steal his notes and discoveries before he could finish. The story was intense, and I secretly holed up beneath my blankets and read by the glow of a flashlight until 5:00 AM. (If my parents had found out, my book would have been taken away.) The next morning, after being dragged from bed, I attended Sunday School. I have no idea what the teacher, Miss Linda Ramsey soon-to-be Mrs. Scott Rankin, was talking about, but for some reason, she said the word penicillin, and I shouted, "No!" and jumped to my feet. In panic, I had assumed that she was telling Dr. Joe's secret, and I had immediately, patriotically jumped up to stop her. Once on my feet, I sheepishly realized that my reaction stemmed from the book I had read the night before, and I slowly sat down. Amid student laughter and teacher questions, I sat down again while my tired mind foggily struggled to sort out which world was real. (I soon came to the correct conclusion, but it worried me slightly that my brain had reacted that way.) Of course, I told no one...until now.

This has happened several times throughout my life, and Jeremy and Kimmie complain that when I am reading I cannot hear them talking to me, and I sometimes yell at my book. This does not bother me at all. I enjoy becoming part of the story, and I feel like I am constantly meeting new friends.

Last night, around 3:00 AM, I finished a bit of science fiction. American scientist, Albert Morrison joined a Soviet team of scientists who miniaturized a ship and sailed into a human brain. Albert brought along a machine of his own design, which he later accidentally discovered would aid in reading others' thoughts. This morning, while driving to work, my imagination subconsciously kept "seeing" arteries and glucose molecules, white blood cells and dendrites floating past the front and side car windows. Later, while in a meeting at work with Craig, he said something about sensing another person's personality. I had sensed the same thing when speaking with that particular person, and my mind immediately jumped to Albert's telepathic machine. I smiled and nodded, thinking that Craig was talking about the machine. It took me a few minutes to remember that the machine existed only in my book, and that Craig had not read the book so he could not possibly be discussing the machine.

Once I discovered my mistake, I amusingly told Craig about my too-vivid imagination, and we laughed together. He then confessed that he has had the same confusion with reality when he reads a really good book!

So, maybe I'm crazy, but at least I'm not alone in my insanity!

This weekend is Ladies' Retreat for my church and many other churches in our state. I am so EXCITED to be going. When I was little, my mom would pack up once a year and enjoy her weekend with the other ladies in our church, and I wanted SO DESPERATELY to go with her. She always came back full of fun stories and laughter.

When I became a teenager, I decided that I must finally be old enough to join my mom on her retreat weekend, and I begged her to take me with her. She would don her "quiet face," which is my name for her facial expression when she is thinking way more than what she is saying, and she said, "No, Missy. You're not old enough yet."

Now, I realize that what she was really saying was, "Are you crazy? I need this weekend to get away from you and to remember how much God loves you and to find out how I can better love you. If you come too, I won't get to retreat, and when I come back, I won't be the wonderful mom that you need me to be."

You see, NOW I realize that, but then I just thought she was being mean.

Yay for me! I get to retreat! :-)

Spring cleaning hit our house rather late this year...as in over Labor Day weekend.

We emptied the garage of EVERYTHING, swept, built storage cabinets, hung bike racks and shovel racks and tool racks, raked grass clippings, dug up a circle around our sad little pine tree and refilled the circumference with specially fertilized dirt. (We are desperately trying to get the puny tree to perk up.)

At one point, Kimmie asked, "Isn't this supposed to be a holiday?"

"Nope, it's LABOR Day," I cheerfully responded.

We can party any old weekend.

Saturday morning dawned beautifully and warmly. Brilliant blue sky kissed green and golden harvest-ready fields. Jeremy woke early (around 10:30 AM) and as previously arranged, Kimmie babysat Liberty while Jeremy and I drove to Olive Garden to use our gift card.

I ate a scrumptious Smoked Provolone Alfredo over Angel Hair. The dish arrived sprinkled with breadcrumbs, diced tomatoes and chopped parsley. Beautiful and delicious! Jeremy ordered the never-ending pasta. He started out with Spaghetti and Meatballs, moved on to Sausage and Peppers and finished with Alfredo over Angel Hair. (I guess the never-ending pasta did come to an end.)

We then conducted a napkin-folding contest while Jeremy digested. Our waitress judged the results, and Jeremy won. Sigh. In my defense, my cloth napkin was older and floppier than Jeremy's crisp linen. I've already challenged him to a rematch when we return to Olive Garden six months from now.

The football team wasn't the only entertainment last Friday. Liberty kept one section of the crowd smiling by climbing up and down the bleachers and stopping to "talk" with anyone near her path, and Kimmie awesomely performed her cheers for hours in front of the crowd.

Our Eagles seemed to be well-matched against BGM, who had beaten us last year, according to Kimmie. They intercepted several of our passes throughout the game and gained an early touchdown in the first quarter, but our defense skillfully held them back throughout the rest of the game. We entered the final quarter 7-6 BGM, my voice already hoarse from screaming "Stop it!" after each interception.

The other team had possession. A beautiful pass soared through the night and landed into the outstretched hands of OUR defensive player! He ran it down field about 50 yards! The Eagles crowd screamed and leaped to our feet while Liberty laughed and clapped, enjoying the excitement. We fought to score the touchdown and easily obtained the two-point conversion. With almost three minutes left in the game, the scoreboard read 14-7 Eagles! Could we keep it?

BGM quickly raced the ball to their 36 yard line. "They only need a touchdown and a field goal to tie up. A touchdown and two-point conversion to win," Jeremy muttered in my ear. If I were in the habit of biting my nails, I would have been chewing away at that moment. Kimmie and the other cheerleaders began chanting, "Hold that line, Eagles. Hold. That. Line!"

BGM's quarterback snapped the ball towards his open receiver, and seemingly out of nowhere, an Eagles player catapulted into the sky and snatched the flying ball. He ran down field as our bleachers erupted into screams of joy. We jumped, we stomped, we yelled, we threw popcorn. We were a victorious mess!

A touchdown and a two-point conversion later, we walked elatedly to our cars. The first game of the season belonged to us!

PS> I had some awesome pictures of Kimmie cheering, but the camera's memory card wimped out on us afterwards and deleted everything.

It's football time again!!! Tonight is the high school's first game of the season, and Jeremy took off work to join Liberty and I as we watch Kimmie cheer on the players. Oh, I can't wait!

After my horrific experience with book three in the Grace Chapel Inn Series, I hesitated to open book four. More than anything else, I wanted the fourth epistle to return me to pleasant times and gently flowing stories, and I was afraid that reading it might crush my tentatively outstretched hopes forever. (Now does that sound dramatic or what? :-)

The first two pages filled me with relief, and I read the entire book last night. Kimmie laughed at me when after the second chapter, I hugged the book and pronounced, "I LOVE THIS BOOK!" Oh, I am so thankful for Melody Carlson (who was also the author of the first book in the series, so it makes sense that I would love the fourth book).

In other news, Dr. V. checked Liberty's ears with a machine, and he said that she had fluid behind her ear drums. Since there is not a whole lot that we can do to get rid of it, he told me to keep a sharp eye on her and to bring her back in a month for another ear exam. Eventually, we may need to put tubes in her ears, but right now, he is hoping it will dry up on its own.

Please pray for that.

Kimmie and I visited the library yesterday. My librarian friend and I started up a conversation, and she ended up recommending a series of books to me, called the Grace Chapel Inn Series. I read the first book and was immediately hooked. The story centers on three sisters between the ages of 50 - 65 who love and support each other and get along well (other than disagreeing on how to decorate the inn, and even that is resolved with ease). They start up a Bed and Breakfast in a tiny town called Acorn Hill filled with quirky, lovable characters. The book meandered through it's story line, pointing out wonderful qualities and marring flaws in each resident of the town, including the three heroines. Each person was described in a normal looking way, not overly beautiful, or overly ugly. Not exceedingly handsome or fat or scrawny. They were normal people (which is hard to find in most fiction.) I LOVED THE BOOK, and immediately returned to the library for the next three books in the series. The second book filled me with peaceful joy, just as the first one, but last night I began the third book. Each book has a different author, and I believe this author must not have read the two previous books before scribbling her own. This author, Judy Baer, crashes through the town creating drama where none previously existed. She describes the two older sisters as uptight and mean, while the youngest sister longs for her old life in San Fransisco and wonders if she will ever fit in with her sisters or the town. All of the lovable townspeople have ugly dispositions and no redeeming qualities. The youngest sister is devastatingly beautiful with the body of a teenager, and the two men (suddenly) in her life are incredibly handsome. The townsfolk, in addition to their radical personality changes, are also either fat or scrawny or ugly in some way. The youngest sister is not only beautiful and misunderstood, she is also angelically good to everyone around her. She rescues a homeless man, a stroke victim, and a small child as well as saving the inn from financial ruin, while cooking superb chef-style meals, growing award winning garden flowers, starting her own side business of designing and selling jewelry, and unraveling the mystery of her dead mother.

I read the first 20 pages or so with growing dismay and forced myself to read the next 50 pages. Finally, Kimmie asked me why I continued torturing myself (and her, since I kept exclaiming over how Judy Baer has ruined the town). I have never, EVER, in my entire life quit on a book. Even when I hate them, I have to read through to the end to see if somehow the author can redeem him or herself. I hate to put a book down in relief that the writing is finally over, but this book was so horrible in comparison with the first two, that I wanted to cry. I finally decided to skip to the end and read the last 30 pages. Of course Judy's version of good triumphed over Judy's version of evil, and the youngest sister learned to smile at people who hated her and turn to God for help in trouble (which I am definitely NOT knocking), but the book left me with sadness for the older sisters and town residents who could do nothing to defend themselves against the slander on their characters created by Judy Baer.

I plan to begin the fourth book in the series tonight, and I frantically hope that the fourth author has read the first two books and has chosen to stick to them.

A week and a half ago, Liberty had Rosiola and the beginning of an ear infection. Her doctor prescribed the Bubble Gum Medicine! (Amoxicillin), and told us to come in for a follow-up visit when the bottle was empty. So Libby has an appointment today, and I'm very glad for it. She has been pulling at her ears for a couple days now, and yesterday, she couldn't seem to keep her balance, even when she was just sitting or crawling. This morning, I noticed quite a bit of drainage in her nose and throat. I'm hoping it is nothing, but I'm thankful that our doctor will be checking her out.

Liberty and I have invented a game that we call Ferris Wheel. I lie down on my back on the floor. She crawls over to my feet and plops her little rear down on top of them. Then I hold her hands and slowly raise my feet together into the air until they are level with my knees. I gently bounce her up and down a few times while she squeals in delight. Then I hold onto her waist and lift my legs into the air until she is upside down and vertical. My arms take over from there, supporting her head and back while I place her onto the floor behind my head. In this way, she does a complete flip in the air while passing over the full length of my body.

We did this several times a few days ago, and later that day I wondered why my stomach, chest and arm muscles were so sore. It took me a while to figure out the reason, but now I know that I can workout and have fun with Liberty at the same time. It's great!

Friday night, Jeremy took me out on a surprise date.

We ate at a restaurant that we had never tried before and split a meal and a dessert, and oh my goodness was it ever good! We plan to return often. We then headed to the cinema to watch (finally) Bourne Ultimatum where the constantly moving camera always leaves me feeling slightly ill. Afterwards, we discussed many aspects of our lives, and made decisions that we have been putting off for a long time.

When we arrived at home, both of our girls were already asleep so we had the house to ourselves and enjoyed the peace and quiet.

In our basement there are two large egress windows with a deep well dug around the outside of them. I would guess that the wells are at least 4 to 5 feet deep, and with all the rain we have had recently, several small frogs have taken up residence in our window wells. At first they were amusing to watch. They nibbled on the bits of foliage that has begun growing in the wells and chewed on crickets and spiders that were unfortunate enough to move into the neighborhood. (Do frogs eat foliage? Maybe not. So they probably aren't nibbling as they hop about in our window, but it still sounds like a froggy thing to do, so I'm going to leave it.)

But now the frogs have become silently pathetic. They can only jump about three feet high, and their suctiony feet always seem to lose grip about halfway up the window. They are stuck in a glass case, and cannot get out.

That's how I've been feeling recently, too, and I don't really know why.

Maybe it's the weather: hot, humid, overcast, rainy. Yesterday, I pressed my nose against the chilly panes of the sliding glass doors in our dining room, watching the rain pour down and longing to run around in it playing "Call the Fire" with my brothers and sisters like we used to when we were kids. Maybe it's the fact that school just started up again. I've always loved attending school, and now that I'm grown up there's no more school in my future. Maybe it's the Texas let-down. I had gotten excited at the prospect of new adventures in the Lone Star State, but upon researching the educational system in that part of the country, we have come to realize that this is probably not the best move for our family at this time. (I say probably, because our decision is not completely set in stone yet, although it looks like it will be pretty firm.) Maybe it's my lack of good tennis shoes. The ones I currently own were purchased (against Jeremy's will) a size too small (because they were SOOOO cute, and they had sold out of the right size). Therefore, I can wear them to events that require me to stand around looking cute, but I cannot wear them to go running.

Whatever the reason, I am feeling trapped. The urge to break out and do SOMETHING lurks strongly just under my calm demeanor.

This morning, I strolled into Craig's office with some paperwork to discuss, and I told him, "Craig. I need to do something fun." "Like what?" came his response. I pondered the question.

I want to buy a motorcycle and go zooming around Iowa. Stop randomly at little hole-in-the-wall places and have adventures like tasting every ice cream flavor known to man, or exploring a cave, or riding in a hot air balloon, or rappelling down a rock wall, or jumping off a cliff and landing in a river (I did that years ago into the Hudson River), or canoeing, or SOMETHING ACTIVE.

All of that raced through my mind, but I calmly answered, "I don't know," and quietly lamented my too-small tennis shoes and my bicycle with the flat rear tire.

Guess what? I heard yesterday that the producers of the movie Facing the Giants made lots of money on that film, and they are planning another movie. This one might be about a firefighter. Oh! I am so excited! Jeremy and I have decided to move to Georgia, so that we can be part of the church that makes the movies!

(Not really, but that sure would be wonderful!)

What really happened this weekend?

1. I made breakfast. (Fried eggs and toast)
2. Jeremy and I emptied the pool together. (But we did not scrub the green slime off the bottom. Instead, we tipped the pool upside down on the back deck. We're sportingly giving the pretty microbes a head start before we eliminate them...because we didn't feel like scrubbing at the time. This is now on my To Do List for this afternoon when I get home from work.)
3. We did absolutely nothing with the blinds in the bedroom.
4. I created a menu for the week. (I get to have Tacos on Thursday!!!!)
5. We went grocery shopping. (And forgot to pick up vacuum bags.)
6. Jeremy went back to the store and bought vacuum bags. (He then vacuumed the carpeting in the family room right as we were trying to start a movie -- Facing the Giants, one of the most awesome movies of all time!)
7. Jeremy and I discussed Texas, and we now feel that we have a game plan. (We listed certain criteria that will be researched before we make a decision on accepting a job and moving.)
8. Happy Birthday, Colin!!!
9. Your present can be this blog to you...all you have to do is print it and frame it. (Aren't I a great friend?) See Colin's comments on my previous blog entry.
10. We went to a nearby town that we have never explored and ate wonderful food (I had Chicken Fettuccine Alfredo; Jeremy had Spicy Jambalaya, and Kimmie ordered Garlic Cheese Bread and shared my Fettuccine and Jeremy's Jambalaya. Liberty snacked on apple juice and Ritz crackers, sampled my Fettuccine and entertained our waitress.)

And thus ended our lovely Saturday. :-)

I've been sitting at the computer screen trying to think of something to blog about, but my mind is more focused on what I have to do today. Maybe if I get this list out of my head, it will free up some brain space for blogging.

1. Make breakfast (I'm starving.)
2. Empty and scrub the kiddy pool. (Green slime is growing on the bottom.)
3. Help Jeremy put the blinds up in our bedroom. (Only one window left to do.)
4. Create a menu for the week. (But not before breakfast, otherwise my hunger would fill the menu with unnecessary food.)
5. Go grocery shopping. (And don't forget to pick up vaccum bags.)
6. Vaccum.
7. Discuss Texas with Jeremy. (That's a list all by itself.)

Now that that is out of the way, I'm going to make some breakfast! :-)

Today is my first day back at work this week (as you can probably tell by the several new posts). Liberty has been sick, and I've been home with her.

Liberty is MUCH better, but I am missing my cuddle time with her very badly right now. I really enjoyed staying home with her even if she was miserable, poor kid. I'm so glad that when I dropped her off at her babysitter's house, she was smiling hugely and back to her old self again.

Guess what? She talks now!!!! She imitates what I say. Like if I say, "Say Hi Grandma!" She says, "I Gaaa." If I say, "Say Hi Mommy." She says, "I Ma-ma." She tries to say Kimmie, but it's not recognizable, although it is always the same sound.

So back to work for me.

On his way back from Texas, Jeremy stopped and bought me a notebook and a bookmark. Now does my husband know me, or what? The notebook is cute and small enough to fit in my purse. It is so cute that it inspires writing (unlike the ugly legal pad that I have been lugging around with me).

The background colors of my bookmark merge from green to orange to red to blue, and the foreground is littered with smiling yellow faces in varying sizes. The faces smile up at me so happily that I have to smile back at them.

I'm so thankful for Jeremy.

This afternoon, I'm driving to the airport to pick up Kimmie, returning from North Carolina. Yay! (Hopefully, her plane will make it all the way here without falling to pieces!)

Since we'll be in the city, we plan to meet up with a friend who I used to work with before we moved. I'm looking forward to catching up on his life and on everyone still at the old job.

Plus, we're going to one of my favorite restaurants! Kimmie will enjoy her first meal back in Iowa!

Fever. Panic. Baby so hot.

Lukewarm bath.

Crying.

Shivering goosebumps. Blue fingertips. Burning forehead.

Does cuddling help?

Inside.

Thoughts swirl.

Capture one and put it into words. Four, five words. They fragment.

New thought swirling past. Reach out.

Missed it.

I want to write!

To be able to write while soaking in a luxuriously scented bubble bath would be ultimate happiness for me. My mind dreams of blueprints for a bath desk that would hook over the sides of the tub, dip low enough that my hands wouldn't lose circulation while I write, and be flexible enough to push out of the way when writing is no longer desired. Oh, and a cup holder would be nice. Hmmm. :-)

The more I study Rebekah (Isaac's wife and Jacob and Esau's mom) the more I realize that I am like her. We both enjoy sizing up a situation and acting accordingly. That's the good part. But we also both lean towards acting on our own instead of waiting on God's move. That's the bad part. Thankfully, God put Rebekah in the Bible as an example of how messed up my family can become if I lean to my own understanding instead of waiting on God.

Jeremy is in Texas right now interviewing for the job down there, and I am up here. Freaking out.

At least I was until I finished the first paragraph. Then I took a walk around town and recited two verses to myself: "Great peace have they which love Thy law, and nothing shall offend them," and "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on Thee, because he trusts in Thee." After that, God brought this song to my mind:

Why should I feel discouraged, why should the shadows come, why should my heart be lonely, and long for heaven and home, when Jesus is my portion? My constant friend is He. His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me; His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

I sing because I’m happy. I sing because I’m free! For His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

“Let not your heart be troubled.” His tender word I hear, and resting on His goodness, I lose my doubts and fears. Though by the path He leadeth, but one step I may see, His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me; His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

Whenever I am tempted, whenever clouds arise, when songs give place to sighing, when hope within me dies, I draw the closer to Him. From care He sets me free. His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me; His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me (and Jeremy). :-)

I thought my blog today would be sappy and sentimental about dropping Kimmie off at the airport and knowing that I would not see her again for another week. But instead it is going to be about Kimmie's incredible airport adventures. Things happen to her in airports that I have never seen happen to anyone else.

Prior to joining our family a couple years ago, Kimmie had never flown before, and she was nervous to fly from her current home in North Carolina to us in Iowa. Although Jeremy and I assured her repeatedly that flying was fun and easy, she persisted in her fears and worried about all the possible dangers.

It turns out that Kimmie's fears are very well founded -- at least for her. When she flew for the first time, the plane that she was scheduled to ride in had collided with a bird during the previous flight. After landing in North Carolina, the airline boarded all of the new passengers including Kimmie and then proceeded to sit on the tarmac for two hours while they discussed the defect in the plane that the bird collision had caused. After two hours, they moved all of the passengers to another plane. This one had something wrong with its toilet, causing yet another delay. When Kimmie finally arrived in Chicago for a layover, crazy weather delayed her again. She waited in the airport for three more hours where she made friends with other unaccompanied minors and was given more cookies and snacks than she knew what to do with. We were very relieved when she landed safely in Iowa.

Yesterday, Kimmie attempted to fly uneventfully from Iowa back to North Carolina for a week long visit. That plan failed miserably.

You see, Kimmie had been scheduled to fly to North Carolina earlier this summer, in June. However, circumstances prevented her from taking that trip, and we switched her flight out for one in August. In June, when I switched the tickets, I spoke directly to an airline operator named Jerri, and she told me that we had to drive to the airport and exchange the paper tickets in person before June 7th, or the electronic tickets on hold for us would drop out of the system and be lost. Jeremy graciously took time out of his day (and gas out of his car) to drive to the airport (an hour away from us). He conversed with Linda, a employee at the airport who worked for that specific airline. She told him that the electronic tickets were already ours, not just on hold for us, and that we could throw our paper tickets away because they would not need them. Our tickets had already been exchanged. Jeremy was confused by this statement, because it was not what Jerri had told us.


Jeremy called me on his cell phone and had Linda speak directly to me. I questioned her words several times, and I told her what Jerri had instructed us to do. Linda adamantly repeated that we did not need the paper ticket at all; she told us that Jerri's instructions were incorrect. Jeremy returned home with the original paper tickets and the understanding that we could throw the tickets in the garbage because Kimmie would only need her ID when she arrived at the airport in August.


Yesterday, Jeremy took Kimmie to the airport. He dropped her off outside (in order to save the dollar that it would cost him if he parked the car and walked her inside). Kimmie walked up to the ticket counter and spoke with Linda. She gave Linda her ID and her itinerary code. Linda informed Kimmie that there were no tickets on hold for Kimmie and that the itinerary referenced was not paid for. Kimmie called me at work, slightly panicked from the ticket counter, and gratefully handed me over to Linda. Linda then informed me that we DID need to turn in those outdated paper tickets after all and that they would not let her on the plane until I turned in the paper tickets in exchange for the current electronic tickets. Her plane was scheduled to depart at 1:00 PM. Our house is an hour away from the airport. It was currently 11:47 PM. I realized immediately that it would be impossible for Jeremy to drive from the airport to our house to pick up the paper tickets and drive back to the airport in time to get her onto her scheduled flight. I begged Linda to delay the flight as long as possible, and I dropped everything at work. I fled for my car. Reaching our house in record time, I frantically flipped through paperwork, searching for a ticket that may have been thrown away already.

I found it in my bedroom and triumphantly waved it over my head as I raced out of the empty house. I set Jenny's cruise control at 72 (the speed limit was 65), and prayed that the cops would not be bored that day and looking for a person only going 72 down the deserted highway. Jeremy had driven halfway out to meet me in order to save time, but when we met at the gas station, he parked his truck and hopped into my car. Together we sped into the city. My phone rang when I was five minutes away from the airport. It was Kimmie and Linda again. They wanted to know how far away I was because Kimmie's plane was fully boarded, and they could not hold it much longer. The time was 12:48. "Just wait! Just a minute!" I cried into the phone. "I'm almost there!"

"Watch out!" Jeremy yelled. A large truck pulling a trailer full of lawn mowing equipment slowly pulled into my lane. I hit the brakes, and Jeremy and I braced ourselves against the invisible force pulling our bodies towards the front windshield. Slowly, I followed behind the truck, imagining myself climbing onto the roof of my moving car and leaping movie-style onto one of the mowers in the trailer ahead of us. In my mind, I ramped the mower off of the trailer and sped through the grass past all the traffic in front of us to get to the airport on time. Unfortunately, my body did not follow my imagination's instructions. By the time we arrived at the airport, it was 12:57, and there was no way that Kimmie would be able to make it through security and to the plane in time. I breathlessly handed Linda the paper tickets and gave Kimmie a commiserative hug.

Linda frowned at the computer. "Now why isn't this going through?" she muttered to herself. She double-checked the information on the paper ticket and then verified what she had typed into the airline's system. After several more unsuccessful attempts to exchange Kimmie's ticket, Linda informed me that she would need the original form of payment in order to force the exchange through. Did we use the Star Wars credit card? I asked myself, Or was it directly from our bank account? I had left my purse in the car along with my husband because we had assumed my sojourn into the airport would be less than five minutes, so he had stayed with the car in the "No Parking -- drop off only" lane which was "Strictly Enforced" according to the signs. I ran back outside, but neither my car Jenny nor my husband was in sight, and I realized that he must be circling the airport due to the strictly enforced no parking laws. I returned to the ticket counter and showed them my empty hands. "I don't have my original form of payment, and I don't remember the number."

Marci sighed. (This is getting very long, so I'm going to abbreviate.) Jeremy, Kimmie and I sat at the airport for two and a half hours waiting for them to get the exchange to go through. Once Kimmie had her tickets in hand, we rejoiced, and Jeremy and I decided to walk with her as far as security in an effort to prevent any more of her weird airport bad luck from following her. We hugged goodbye and said I love you several times. But no more misadventures occurred, and we watched her disappear up the escalator towards the gates.

Her bad luck struck again when she arrived in Milwaukee for her layover. Apparently, the Milwaukee airport had had a fire just before she arrived. When her plane de-boarded, the lights in the airport were out, and the computer systems were down. Fire fighters walked the concourses, directing passengers to appropriate gates. Kimmie followed instructions and arrived at her assigned gate. After waiting a little while, another airport employee came by and re-directed the waiting passengers to a different gate. Kimmie obediently followed the crowd to her new destination.

Thankfully, she arrived safely in North Carolina late last night. She called home to let me know that she was there, and she told me of her Milwaukee adventures.

Jeremy and I have now decided that if we ever need to use an airplane for a family vacation, we will book Kimmie's tickets on a different plane. That way she will keep all of the trouble to herself, and we will enjoy a stress-free vacation!

Kimmie and I had a garage sale on Friday and Saturday. She felt very grown up and responsible because she got to run it alone on Friday. (Jeremy was inside sleeping and could be questioned if necessary, but she only woke him up twice. He told me that she did such an awesome job with the customers that she could very easily do a great job in sales someday.) We made lots of money on Friday, but in the pouring rain on Saturday we only made $4.00. A friend of mine is having a garage sale in two weeks, so we're going to combine our leftover stuff with hers and make another fun day together out of it at her house. This time, hopefully, we'll sell the rest!

Libby had a doctor's appointment on her 10 month birthday. (It was supposed to be her nine month checkup, but I procrastinated horribly.) She now weighs 13 pounds, 11 ounces, and she is 23 inches long. Her weight is still not on the growth chart, but her height is in the 3rd percentile! Yay! She finally made it onto the chart!!! Her head circumference is in the 15th percentile. Our doctor was a little concerned about whether her mental growth could be behind, so he asked me a LOT of questions about her current capabilities. He also examined her very closely and had her do a lot of things, and he decided that she is completely normal and even slightly above in certain areas of development. It is just her body that is tiny. He doesn't expect her to ever catch up physically to other kids her age. He thinks that she will always be a smaller person. (Which is fine with me, I won't have to buff up my arm muscles in order to lift her.)

She has so much personality now! I really enjoy being around her. She gives kisses, and she claps whenever she hears one of us say "yay" even if the "yay" is not directed at her. She likes to make others laugh, so she has this one face that we call her scrunchy face. She crinkles her nose and eyes up and purses her lips and breathes in and out through her nose very rapidly. It is very cute, and of course, everyone around her laughs. Then she looks at everyone with a big grin. She stands on her own now, and she tries to walk. She can't walk by herself yet, so she insists on grabbing our fingers and taking off across the room. She LOVES walking. She also loves to cuddle. It's really funny when we are at home, because wherever I am, she wants to be there too. If I am in the kitchen cooking, she is under my feet, trying to climb up my legs. If I am walking around the house doing various chores, she will crawl along behind me. Usually by the time she gets to where I am, I am finished being there, so she has to turn around and catch me in another spot. She gets frustrated with that, especially if I am not paying enough attention to her. So I try to take a minute to stop and play with her when my path crosses hers as we come and go from room to room.

Kimmie is going to North Carolina for a week to visit family. She's leaving this Tuesday and will come back next Tuesday. This will be her first plane trip on her own, so I'm anxious to see how it goes for her. She has one layover where she will need to change planes, and I have printed out a map of that terminal, so that she can know where she is and how to get to where she needs to be. She is SO EXCITED for this visit, and I am really excited for her. She has plans to visit old friends and meet up with relatives and see the BEACH. I am just imagining all of the fun this will be, and I can't wait for her to come home and tell me all of her adventurous stories.

Jeremy had an interview at his current workplace for a job that he has been wanting for a while. They have a few more candidates to interview, and we are waiting to hear what their final decision will be. Jeremy also recently had a phone interview with a job in Texas, and this Friday, they are flying him down there for a second interview. His dad lives in the area, and has already set up an appointment on Saturday morning with a real estate agent to look at possible houses. On Saturday afternoon, Jeremy is meeting with a school administrator to discuss Kimmie's possible enrollment there. We do not even know yet, if we will be offered that job, but we are preparing our fields for rain (that was a Facing the Giants reference, if you didn't catch it), and we are willing to do whatever God wants. If He wants us to stay here, we will stay here happily because we love it here. If He wants us to move to Texas, we will move happily because God has wonderful unknown plans in store for us there. We just need to know for sure where God wants us.

My friend Melody came to visit me last week, and we had such wonderful adventures together, many laughs and incredible talks. Oh, I miss her! We saw "Much Ado about Nothing" on the lawn outside of an old mansion, and the cicadas were out en masse. A few of them landed on the stage and frightened one of the actors, which was quite funny to me. :-) We explored our small town from top to bottom, and we decided on the spur of the moment to make a quilt. Neither of us have ever quilted before, but we bought the fabric, and discussed buying a pattern. In the end, we tossed the idea of the pattern and decided to make our own. (Melody ended up making the pattern herself, really. I just gave suggestions and approved her design, and it was so much fun!) We sewed the center square of the quilt together, and whenever Mel finishes it, she is going to email me the pictures. Oh! Speaking of emailing me pictures! She hasn't emailed me the pictures of our week together yet. I just realized that. We drank hot peppermint tea with honey each night and read books to each other. We started the first of the Sisterchicks series, but we didn't finish it. (I read it several years ago, so Melody took it home with her to finish on her own.)

Jeremy and I had our four year anniversary a couple weeks ago. He surprised me by kidnapping me and taking me to the Hilton Garden Inn where we had a suite of rooms with a jaccuzi. Kimmie babysat Liberty while we honeymooned again. It was very wonderful and relaxing!

Hope you're caught up, now! Summer is awesome! :-)

My family is leaving us today, and I am very sad. My two brothers, Nate and Joe, and my sister-in-love, Suzy, are going home either tonight or tomorrow morning. I'm at work today, but when I get home, their things will be all packed, and there will be no pile of luggage and no dogs to remind me of their presence. (Nate and Suzy brought their two dogs with them: Bonnie - a cute Scottish Terrier, and Montana - a small German Shepherd/Chow.)

I've decided that my family needs to move closer to us. We have a small subdivision that would work nicely for our clan.

Kimmie is coming home today!!! She's been visiting my parents and siblings in Illinois, and she's riding home with two of my brothers and my sister-in-law. I can't wait to hug her (although she called yesterday and informed me of a terrible sunburn that she has recently acquired, so she may not be so thrilled to receive my hug!)

Jeremy and I are both off of work for the rest of this week, and we have tons of fun planned for Nate, Suzy and Joe's week long visit. Think picnics and hikes and fireworks!

Yay!

How old is too old to have a sleepover? I remember when I was eight or nine years old, I asked my friend's mom why ladies her age didn't have sleepovers, and she laughed and said, "You'll understand one day when you are my age."

At the time, she had three kids, and she was in her late twenties or early thirties. I am 28, and I have two kids. And tonight, two of my friends are going to sleepover at my house. They are each in their early forties. One lady has one child, and the other lady has four children. They are leaving their husbands and kids behind to PAR-TAY with me.

My husband works night shift, so he will not be home until 3 or 4 in the morning. Kimmie is in Illinois visiting my parents and siblings, and Liberty will go to bed around 8:00 tonight, leaving us ladies free to TP the neighborhood or freeze the underwear of whoever goes to sleep first.

The only difference between this sleepover, and the sleepovers of my childhood will be that we're not going to camp out on the floor in sleeping bags. The three of us will sleep on my wonderful king-sized bed, where I plan to start a vicious pillow fight!

I noticed several funny things while on my way to work this morning that brought me joy, and I drove through town with a silly smile on my face.

1. The Perky Intern: My favorite radio station is based out of the Big City an hour away, and they have hired a summer intern who brings a very upbeat vocal quality to the air waves. She sounds extremely young, although I know she must be in college, and her voice is always extremely happy. This morning, they put her in charge of reading the news.

She read in her cheerful, upbeat voice: "It was dark and late last night when a city policeman was killed in a hit and run. The officer was kneeling outside of his squad car using a radar gun to catch speeding motorists when one of those motorists ran into the back of his car pushing it into his body and crushing him to death. Also last night, a bullet ended the life of a young man, who police are declining to identify before giving the details to his family. The neighbors in the small neighborhood where he was shot are shocked and concerned that this has happened so close to their homes. A presidential candidate is crashing a debate party today. Paul Don (I think that's the name that she said) was not invited to the presidential debate involving many other candidates, so he has decided to throw his own party...in the same building as the debate and at the same time. He is offering free hamburgers and hotdogs to the first 500 people who show up."

I have to tell you, it is hard to take the two deaths mentioned seriously, when the newscaster is so joyful about it. And then I cracked up listening to the Paul Don party crashing. He sounds pretty fun to me. Although, I'm not sure what type of president he would make if he was crashing cabinet meetings all the time, and what would he do if a UN negotiation didn't go his way? Find a creative way around it, or just do his own thing to the detriment of others?

2. The Mismatched Flowers: As I entered town, I drove past a house with six beautiful hanging baskets of flowers on the front porch. Each basket overflowed with dusky pink blossoms, all but one basket that is. The last basket dangled the same flowers, but in a distinctly orange tone that did not match the house or the other flowers at all. I laughed out loud as I imagined the surprised homeowner discovering for the first time that the promising buds on the newly purchased plants were not the same color on every plant.

3. The Practical Joke: On my way to drop Liberty off at her babysitter's house, I passed another victim of the town's ongoing practical joke. Twenty, pink, plastic flamingos perched on thin metal stems on the front lawn of a house, and a posted sign in the yard read in large, black letters, "YOU HAVE BEEN FLOCKED." These same flamingos and sign were in the front yard of a house four blocks away two days ago, and I remember seeing the birds and their accompanying verbiage several times at various houses last summer, too. At the time, I thought it was a practical joke, and I got a great laugh out of it, but just before blogging about it, I decided to search the Internet to see if anyone in town has said anything funny about the incidents. It turns out, the birds are a fundraiser for breast cancer. Townspeople secretly vote on who should be the first victim of the flocking, and in the middle of the night someone sneaks out to the house and flocks the front lawn. The birds remain at their posts until the homeowner donates to breast cancer research. He then chooses the next person to be flocked, and in the middle of the night, the birds migrate to the next nominees' yard. That's the best fundraiser that I've ever heard of!

Our three scrawny baby birds have become fuzzy teenagers overnight.

Yesterday afternoon, when Libby and I came home from work, two fluffy looking birds were lounging on our front doorstep. They were sitting on the threshold of the doorjamb with their backs pushed up against the door. Each bird had picked a corner, and they were hanging out there looking like a pair of gangsters leaning up against a cement wall in the "hood."

I parked the car inside the attached garage, and carried Libby inside the house. Curiously, I peered out the front window to see if the birds were still lazing by the front door. They were, and they didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave. After thirty minutes without movement by either bird, I decided to up the fun factor.

With Liberty balanced in my left arm, I loudly unlocked, relocked, and unlocked the front door. I hesitated. I heard no movement on the other side of the door. I opened the front door just a crack to see if the birds were still there. They were. The tail feathers of one bird stuck through the open crack of the doorway. I lightly touched his tail. He did not move at all. I tried to let Liberty see the birds through the crack in the door, but I didn't want her to get pecked in the eye either. I closed the door to get the teenage robins to hop off the door frame. They didn't budge.

I reopened the door and observed the nearest robin, the one with the tips of his tail feathers inside my house. He was scruffy looking. His feathers were downy soft and fluffed up. His chest sported a light amber coloring and dark brown polka-dots. I assume his chest will darken into the famous rust color of Robin Red Breasts as he ages. I wanted to touch him, but, okay, I admit it. I am scared of birds. Maybe I read Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds at too young an age. Sure, they look cute from a distance, but get within six feet of one, and you'll notice the beady little eyes, the sharp, pointed beak, the scratchy clawed feet.

This robin's beak seemed exceptionally pointed and shiny, maybe because he was so young or maybe because I was so close to him. My eyeballs were about six inches from his pointed beak. I checked that the crack in the door was small enough to keep his body out if I needed to suddenly pull my eyes away from the opening. I ached to touch him, but I decided to play it safe. I picked up one of Kimmie's flip-flops that happened to be near the front door (and shouldn't have been). I figured, if I touched him gently with the shoe and he didn't violently stab at it, then I could try again with my finger. I slid the foam sole through the crack in the door and gently rubbed the robin's back.

In a flutter of feathers, he and his sister fled from my doorstep. As I stared down at the twin piles of waste matter built up on both corners of the threshold, I realized the siblings must have been sitting at my door at least all day, if not all of the previous night. Had their mother been bringing their food to them at my doorstep?

At least real gangsters at their favorite hang-out spots have the decency to find a toilet when necessary. I closed the door to prevent any stray birds from swooping in, and I walked to the cabinet under the kitchen sink to get a scrub brush, thankful that only two of the three siblings had visited my doorstep.

I admit it. I LOVE spying on people. I love watching as they go about their daily business, and I love peering in their windows to see how wonderfully they may have decorated their homes. To my husband's chagrin and my mother's partnership, if any window in any house that I happen to be driving or walking past has open curtains, I will surreptitiously gaze into the room as I continue moving slowly past. In the past, I tried at times to curb my curiosity, and even now, I attempt to mask the direction of my gaze without ripping my eyeballs from their sockets, but people and homes are so addictive to me.

Last week, I stood at my kitchen window, minding my own business and washing the dishes, when I noticed my neighbor in his backyard. He and his wife have recently started a small garden, and it is their pride and joy. Whenever I walk over there to visit, we invariably end up in their garden evaluating just how much the miscellaneous vegetables may have grown over the past few days. This is their very first garden, and they are obsessed with it. (Sidenote: I planted my first garden, named Garden 1, on Mother's Day this year in a small flower bed in the front of my house. As of today, not one flower has grown in my little flower bed, and I am very sad about that. I plan to start Garden 2 later this year.)

As I unashamedly watched out the window (because it was daytime, and no one could see that I was staring like a maniac) Denny carried a sprinkler over to his garden. The sprinkler was the type that creates a swaying arch of water like a lady's old fashioned feather fan in days of yore. (I've been wanting to sneak that phrase into my blog since I started typing, "days of yore.") Anyway, Denny set the sprinkler down in the center of the garden. He stepped back and watched the arch bend backwards and forwards several times over his plants. Apparently, the water was missing a few too many leaves for his liking, so he walked over and adjusted it. He stepped back again and observed. He walked forward and adjusted it. He stepped back and observed; he walked forward and adjusted. After twelve (yes, I was counting) adjustments, he picked up the sprinkler and carried it from the center of the garden to the far left side. He set it down in a strategic spot and stepped back to observe the spray.

A few more adjustments later, I became bored (and Libby was hungry) so I turned from the window and fed her a few crackers. About fifteen minutes later, I walked past our sliding glass doors and noticed Denny was still out in his garden, placing, observing and adjusting. The sprinkler was still on the left side of the garden. I picked Liberty up and pointed our garden-crazy neighbor out to her. We laughed and watched him from the sliding door until the sun began setting. When I decided that the growing darkness would enable him to notice me watching him from inside my house, Libby and I boldly stepped out onto the back porch. "How's it going, Denny?" I called out to him with a grin and a hint of a chuckle in my voice.

He glanced over his left shoulder towards us. "Hi! Just working on watering the plants." He volunteered.

Liberty and I stood on the back deck for a little while chuckling to ourselves, but once the mosquitoes decided I would make a great main course for the evening, we headed back inside.

Maybe that's what my problem with Garden 1 was. I should have asked Denny to come water it!

Yes, I did drop off the face of the earth, and I had a lovely time floating through space this past month. Actually, now that school is out for the summer, I've lost my rhythm. So many events filled with happiness and fun have distracted me from my blog, and I have so much to catch you up on!

I will strive to update. But I warn you, the random spillage from my brain will not necessarily be in chronological order...or even in logical order at times.

Let's start with my newly found phone. I found it last week, wedged underneath Liberty's car seat. I don't even know how it got into the backseat of the car, but I'm too joyful to investigate seriously.

I'm planning to help decorate the fourth of July parade float for our church this Thursday. I wonder how Liberty will enjoy that fun. She'll probably sit on the lawn and attempt to eat it while I work on the float.

My sister Charity came to visit us this weekend from Illinois. She surprised Jeremy for his birthday. When he came home from work at three in the morning, she was perched on top of the refrigerator. Kimmie and I attempted to hide in a nearby doorway to watch his reaction, but he spotted us right away and asked why we were awake. Charity sang out "Happy Birthday, Jeremy!" from her throne, and Jeremy looked startled and ready to jump into action, but he anticlimactically responded, "Oh, hi."

Jackie and Dave were married May 19th, and I flew down to the wedding in Florida. Our family camped at Lake Red Rock with Dan, Kari and Aaron the following weekend, which was Memorial Day. The next weekend, June 2nd, our friends from college Dan and Liisa and their kids stayed with us on their way to a family reunion in Oregon. Now, that was a lot of fun! Having old college friends spend the night, I highly recommend. They left us with big smiles on our faces and rejuvenated hearts. I miss my fun-filled, college days, but truthfully, I love my current, life-filled, family days more! The weekend after that was my birthday, and we celebrated by road-tripping into the City for fun. The weekend of June 16th, our family stayed home, no visitors, and accomplished some yard work. We have a sad little pine tree in our front yard that needed doctoring. (I've decided to name our homestead Lone Pine, which unfortunately sounds very sad and dreary, doesn't it?) We also found three little blue eggs in a nest in the tree. Kimmie named the momma bird Mary, and we began bird watching that week. Last week, the eggs hatched and we now have three ugly little baby birds who demand food from their muscle-building momma. That lady puts on mileage trying to keep her hungry brood fed. We've got to have a completely worm-free yard by now. That brings us to this weekend, which was Jeremy's birthday and Charity's surprise arrival. Chari left yesterday evening with Kimmie. They traveled back to my parent's house in Illinois, where my brother Nate and his wife Suzy will stop off on their way to our house next weekend from Ohio. They and their two dogs will pick up Kim from Mom and Dad's house, and finish driving to our house. They're going to stay for a week during fourth of July, and Jeremy and I will be taking vacation days from work during that week. Jeremy's dad and Tammy are also supposed to join us during the week of July 4th, so we're going to be having a blast! We even purchased some new games to play! I can't wait!

I just can't keep my phone around me!

Last week, I was without my communication device because I had misplaced my cell-phone charger. This week, I've lost my phone! It went AWOL on Friday night as soon as I got home from work, and I had already told several people that I would call them.

Pretty soon, I'm going to have no friends! (My family has to stick with me no matter what, cuz they can't get out of being my family. Ha!)

To everyone who is feeling slighted by my lack of communication, I am sorry. I really do love you. Really.

Back at the campsite, Aaron played a new and improved version of Duck, Duck, Goose.

My mischeivous baby cooked up her own ideas.

Hatching the plan

"What? I'm innocent!"

We fished and fished, but caught nothing. Kimmie wanted a fish so badly that she took a picture of someone else's catch.

I accidentally stepped into Kimmie's picture of the shore.

Liberty was happy that she didn't have to eat any fish.

Of course, she is happy just about anywhere. Here she is in the tent.

And here in her Tot-Tot.

Super Baby!

All in all, we had a great time camping...

...and Kimmie was happy to be back home!

At work, I deal with financial planning and investing. Usually, this is a hope-filled occupation. Investors optimistically put their money into various funds, expecting that they will have earned more money when it is time to take it out of the fund.

But there is another side to my job. When an investor dies, the family calls me because our office is responsible for appropriately distributing the money to the existing beneficiaries. Since the beginning of April, there have been an unusual number of deaths, and as a result, many families have called the office or walked in to let us know.

I've never had to face death before. My older sister died, but that happened before I was born. My grandma died when I was sixteen, but we lived in New Jersey and she lived in Illinois. I had never spent a lot of time with her, and even though her passing hurt, it hurt more in terms of lost opportunities than in terms of a relationship now missing. I feel ill-equipped to comfort or empathize with the raw grief I am facing on a daily basis.

A 92 year old mother of six grown children passed away. Her oldest son walked into the office on a sunshiny day in April and blandly announced, "Mother's gone." I gazed at his face while my mind absorbed his words. His voice graveled out as he explained, "She passed on just after midnight yesterday." He paused, cleared his throat, forced air into his lungs and raised his head determinedly. "Thought I'd better let you know."

A man in his fifties shook when he told me that the sick mother he had cared for over the past ten years was finally at peace. That was over three weeks ago, and he has come into our office many times since then just because he has no one else to talk with. Without the frail patient in his life needing constant attention, he is lost. He has known nothing else for the past decade.

Craig attended the funeral of a 24 year old man last week, and yesterday a father called to tell me that his youngest daughter died on Saturday. Her two, young children are now under their grandparents' guardianship. I listened to the heartbreak in his voice when he told me. The tiredness. The unfathomable grief. The disbelief. I jotted down the relevant details so that we could perform our financial duties for him appropriately, and I told him, "Ron, I'm sorry."

I'm sorry.

How does that help? It does not even begin to convey my real feelings, my real, deep sorrow for the families left behind. And if it doesn't cover my small measure of grief for the family of a person that I had never met, how can it assuage a minute portion of the grief of the person I say it to?

I am saved. I am saved from Hell, from the cost of my own sin. I know this because I have trusted God to punish His Son Jesus for my sins instead of punishing me. I know that when I die, I WILL be in Heaven. I WILL be better off. I know that my family will miss me, but I know that if they have accepted God's power to forgive their sins, I will get to see them again in Heaven when they are finished living on earth.

But how can I apply this to my clients? I'm not worried about my own future; I know that it is secure. I am grieving for the families left behind, and for the loved one whose future is now present. I don't know where they are, and I don't know what to say to the client on the other end of the phone or on the other side of the desk. Yesterday, I hung up the phone, put my face in my hands and cried.

I'm sorry.

A hug.

It doesn't go away. It might fade for me, but there is a hole in a family now that will never again be filled.

Jackie and Dave's wedding was absolutely wonderful! God gave me several new friends, and an amazingly fun time with new experiences that I loved. Today, I'll talk about the new experiences and tomorrow I'll tell you about my new friends.

New Experiences:
On Friday morning, all of the bridesmaids went to a nail salon and were pampered. I now have gel nails, a french manicure with a pretty design and a pedicure. Alan painted my nails, and he and his wife, Leah, own the salon and work there together. He told me that he used to be a graphic artist, and Leah worked at a nail salon. She suggested to him that they open their own store, and he said that he jumped at the chance because that meant that he would get to work with her. Yay!

Later that afternoon we practiced at the rehearsal, and all of us bridesmaids got to meet all of Dave's groomsmen. They were a pretty fun bunch of guys, always laughing and joking around. We got to meet their wives and girlfriends too, but more about that later.

After the rehearsal, we drove to the hotel where the reception would be held. We ate dinner, and I got to meet all of Jackie's extended family whom I have heard so much about through my years at college with Jackie. It felt wonderful to finally meet these people whom I felt like I already knew.

Once dinner was finished, the bridesmaids headed upstairs to the ballroom to decorate for the reception. We had been there for approximately an hour or so, when the wives (and a fiance) of the groomsmen burst through the door. They laughed and talked and worked with us. Together, we made the room beautiful, and we made new friends. I know that Jackie had been worried about moving away from her close-knit family into a place where she may not know anyone, but since many of Dave's groomsmen are also his co-workers, that meant that Jackie had automatically made friends with several of Dave's co-worker's wives. I wish you could have met these ladies. They were so fun, friendly, energetic, and silly! I wished that I were the one who would be spending more time with them. At one point I asked, "You guys act like you are more than just co-worker's with each other. What's the deal?" And they all responded at once, "We ARE more than just co-workers and wives. We're one big family." I am so thankful that God has provided another close-knit family for Jackie to be part of. He is so great!

Now that the reception room was beautiful, we bridesmaids had a job to do. We handed Jackie the car keys and told her we were on a scavenger hunt. We all piled into a car that was built for very skinny people. Amidst lots of laughter and tangled bodies, we were finally able to close the doors, and we told Jackie that her first assignment was to find a swing set. She quickly drove to a nearby park filled with wooden playground tunnels and swinging bridges. We climbed over the equipment to the swings and posed for the camera over and over.

Barefoot, we slung our sandals (renamed grassdals) over our fingers and sloshed through the sandy playground towards the car. We noticed a police car in the parking lot with it's blue lights flashing, and we decided to give Jackie her next assignment immediately--have our pictures taken with a police officer. We changed directions and walked to his car. Jackie was too nervous to talk with him, so I became the spokeslady. I explained that we were having a bachelorette party, and we needed to have our pictures taken with him. He suspiciously questioned us, but Jackie was wearing a tee-shirt that said Soon to be Mrs. L. and the wedding date was printed on the back of the shirt. He smiled handsomely, and once the flashes had vanished, he said, "Now you can put on your list that you were kicked out of the park." It turns out, the park had closed at ten pm.

We merrily squeezed into the car and found a McDonald's with a playland. We sat on Ronald's lap and climbed through the equipment, documenting our progress along with way with film. One of the workers came out, and we thought he was going to ask us to leave. Instead, he calmly began sweeping the floor, not sparing a glance for the crazy group of women climbing through the plastic tubes with shrieks of laughter.

We ended our party early at Walmart (where every party should happen) since we were all so wiped out from the previous all-nighter, and we finally climbed into our respective sleeping places around two in the morning, knowing that we needed to wake up at four in order to have our hair and dresses ready for the photographer before the wedding.

The wedding took place on Saturday. I've never been in a wedding before, so that was pretty cool for me. (Well, I was a flower girl when I was four, but I don't remember much about that except for my beautiful dress and flowers.) Amazingly enough, there were no mishaps. That's kind of sad for me also, because I enjoy funny disaster stories to tell. My dress needed to be hemmed a little more, but it was too late for that. So I informed my groomsman that I needed him to walk slowly to give me a chance to kick my dress out of the way at each step. He very obligingly crept along. His name was Rich, and he was a detective. I tried to think of a good mystery question for him to figure out during the rehearsal, but I couldn't come up with anything great.

At the reception, the bridal party walked in to the Star Wars theme song. That choked me up for a few minutes, because it made me long for Jeremy who had stayed home in Iowa with Kim and Libby. I ate the most WONDERFUL Chicken Cordon Blue that I have ever had in my entire life, and I dropped three forkfuls of salad on my dress. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am smooth.

Two groomsmen toasted the bride and groom during dinner, and I was just getting up the nerve to stand and toast, when Jackie and Dave left the table to mingle with their guests. I had a pow-wow with two of the other bridesmaids to determine if I could still make a toast even though the bride and groom were no longer at the table. We couldn't come to a satisfactory conclusion, so I asked the DJ and the photographer who were standing together chatting. (I figured they had been at enough weddings to know what would be appropriate.) They told me to wait until Jackie and Dave returned. I waited and waited and waited. Finally, they started back to the table. Just as they arrived, the table clearer took my toasting glass, along with the toasting glasses of everyone at the head table! I stood to my feet and attempted to discretely flag the lady down to ask for our glasses back, but she was not listening to me. I sank back onto my chair and laughed with the bridesmaids about the situation. Then I decided to toast with the water goblet that was still left on the table. I pushed out my chair and headed towards the dance floor with butterflies flapping away in my tummy. As I got there, the DJ pulled his microphone in and said, "Now it's time for the Father/Daughter dance." I stood at the edge of the floor in dismay and watched as Jackie and her daddy danced to "Butterfly Kisses." Then Dave and his mom danced, then lots of people danced, and I finally gave up my dream of toasting the bride and groom. It was a very sad moment for me.

But I got over it quickly when Faith and I and several of the groomsmen and their wives sneaked out to the car to decorate! I'll post pictures as soon as I have some. It was pretty awesome!

Tune in later this week for part two - "The Wedding: New Friends"

I will be leaving for my friend Jackie's wedding in Florida, and I will not return until Monday. Woooo-peee! :-)

Kimmie's birthday party this past weekend was a hit! Five teenage girls stayed up all night on Friday, and on Saturday we opened presents, played, then hit the mall for some major shopping.

Friday night was uneventful for me. Jeremy and I hid in our room around 9:30 PM and gave the girls the run of the house. They watched a few movies (3), ate a few pizzas (4), drank a few 2 liters of Mountain Dew (6), and did not sleep at all. (Big surprise.) I fell asleep around 10:30 or so, and Jeremy (who normally works night shift) got up to watch movies with the girls. He was really trying to steal the Mountain Dew.

Around two or three in the morning (as I heard the story), Jeremy said, "Who wants to go to Walmart?" So they all piled into the car and headed for Walmart. We won't discuss the terror striking deeply into the hearts of the Walmart employees as they heard the group entering the store. I still haven't heard all of what happened, but it was loads of fun, apparently. And of course, the girls (and Jeremy) had to obtain more Mountain Dew.

I woke up around 6:30 in the morning on Saturday to feed Liberty, and two of the five girls were already up. Kimmie was one of them. I made scrambled eggs and waffles for breakfast, and found out that the fruit salad planned for breakfast had been eaten in the middle of the night...as well as the veggie tray that had been planned for lunch. In fact, when I surveyed my kitchen, I realized that I had not invited girls over for Kimmie's birthday, but locusts disguised as girls, Men In Black style.

Around noon, we had cake and ice cream and opened presents. One of the girls had given Kimmie several water guns. The girls squealed and immediately filled the guns at the kitchen sink and raced outside. Jeremy and I stayed behind to clean up the mess in the kitchen, but my heart was outside with the girls. After a few minutes, I found out that Jeremy was thinking the same thing, because he said, "I wish I had a water gun to surprise them with."

I wriggled my eyebrows mischievously at him, "We have a garden hose."

His face lit up. We huddled together, plotting how we could pull the hose from the garage and hook it to the outside water faucet without being caught. We finally decided that Jeremy would pull the hose from the garage into our bedroom. I would casually wander outside to "check" on the girls, and he would lower the hose through our bedroom window until I could attach it to the spigot on the outside of the house.

Our plan was working wonderfully, until we got to the dining room. The girls had split into two warring factions, and team one suddenly burst through the sliding doors on the deck and into the room. We thought they had discovered us, but they were too preoccupied with filling their guns up at the kitchen sink to notice us frozen in the middle of the room holding coils of the long, green, garden hose. After considering the situation, and realizing that team one was in the kitchen and team two was in the back yard, Jeremy and I raced for the front door, desperately hoping to reach the outside faucet before any scouts discovered our plan.

We screwed the hose to the faucet and were adjusting the sprayer for optimum fire-power when Kimmie walked up to us. Our backs faced the lawn, so her voice made us jump, "When you're finished hooking that hose up, can we have some water, please?" she asked, so politely.

"Why, sure!" I sweetly responded. The poor girl didn't realized what she had just asked for. Jeremy and I grinned at each other.

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" I yelled as I spun around with the sprayer flowing full-blast. The semi-circle of waiting girls scattered before us!

"Aaaaahhhh!" They all screamed as they ran in various directions around the yard. Jeremy kept my hose from kinking as I chased them back and forth. Finally, drenched, they sought sanctuary at the neighbor's house across the street.

A successful ambush = a successful birthday party!

Here are some pictures from a couple months ago. Libby is currently seven months old, but in these pics she is five months.