You have brought so much laughter with you into the world!
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.
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!
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!
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! :-)
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.
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.
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.
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!
Football has got to be my favorite sport. I love the passes and the tackles and the full-speed treks down field. I love the excitement and the cheering crowds, the crisp weather, and the blankets and jackets and game food.
I LOVE IT ALL, AND IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!!
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
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!)
(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 criteriathat 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. :-)
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
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! :-)
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.
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.
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.
