Wednesday, September 14, 2011

I am an artificial friend.

Plank Pulling is a little thing we do every Thursday around here. The one day a week that we strongly resolve to ignore the multitude of specks and sawdust around us and pull one bona fide plank from our own eye. Matthew 7:3-5 style.  It’s intimidating and it’s embarrassing and it’s humbling and it’s therapeutic all rolled into one.

I'm kinda amazed at my group of friends.  They are some amazing women!  But it is amazing that they count me a friend at all.

See - I'm artificial.

And they know it.

Let me explain; most of my closest  friends are nature loving, tree hugging, organic,  home making, from-scratching, kombucha drinking friends.

And I have at least one set of "America sucks and so does the American church" dreads wearing hippies. (Hi! Hippy friends!*wave*)

And I'm not.

And I'm patriotic.  I tear up at 4th of July parades.  At patriotic songs, too.  (again, Hi, Hippy friends! Love you!)

Now, I appreciate nature, beauty, and doing good for the the ecosystem - Nevertheless, I prefer nature walks with trails, Camp sites with hot showers, indoor plumbing (LOVE indoor plumbing) foods made with fresh/organic ingredients that *someone else* grew.  I like my chickens already plucked  and packaged.

And I like hot dogs.  No matter the ingredients, what is ground up and in a hot dog never tasted so good.  And Twinkies.  I like Twinkies.

A few days ago I went to visit one of said friends who has here own chickens, and they were going to . . I don't know, *Something* with the chickens and the kids were telling me how much it stank.  "But, OH!" my friend said "You get fresh eggs!" . .

To me the pay off is not worth it.  Not with cows, not with chickens, not with a major garden.

I might try growing a small herb garden.

As for environmentally healthy living - again, I can appreciate it.  But I really don't hold much hope of anything getting better.  I *do* believe that Jesus is coming back soon, and maybe the elimination of the ozone would be one of the major things that is spoken of in the Bible when the end is upon us.  So I won't say that all the disaster senarios environmentalist are dreading wont happen.  . .

Don't worry world, I don't just throw plastic bags out our car window while driving.  When at the beach I make sure to gather all my garbage and place it in it's proper receptacle, and I will buy "green" stuff if it's there at a good price.  But if it cost more to live better, I'll just die. Thankyouverymuch.

An optimistic cynic.  That's me.

When my friends talk to me about organic food, I can't jump on the bandwagon to believe it's better - Pesticides were created for a reason, and I am not buying that it was for population control.

That's what lick-able stamps were for.

If it's canned, packaged, instant, or boxed, it's OK by me.  I like preservatives that help the food I buy not spoil so fast and I'm willing to live with the consequences of hormones in my oranges that make them HUGE!

And with that last paragraph I'll probably have to go into witness protection program . . . .

Really - I love my peeps!  I can appreciate all they do and why.  Amazed they tolerate me.

But I only got the urge to drink kombucha *once*

Monday, September 12, 2011

Just a whole bunch of silly princesses . . .

I'm sure you've seen this one before: 

 and while looking for that picture I ran into this:

All because today, while going through my own pictures I found *THIS* very silly bunch of princesses . . . . . .

I *heart* princesses.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

My boy, the warmonger.

My boy makes war on paper:     out of clay, 
*Out* of paper
legos and playmobil
  and even a doll - this one is dressed up as a knight.

of course, he himself is the most valiant of warriors!  

I think it's hard wired into him.

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

The one about prayer

Plank Pulling Thursday - I was going to do this last week.  Didn't get around to it and then Jessica posts *This* last week.

So - I'm gonna go with it.

I don't habitually pray before I eat.

There - I said it. I'm in ministry, I teach Bible studies, I take God VERY seriously and it is usually my hubby that walks in and asks "Did anyone pray?" While I mummble and swallow and  clasp my hands together.

I'd like my kids to give thanks before they eat.  I do think there is Biblical precedence for it . . .

I just don't follow through.

I take my relationship with Jesus very personal, it's not a religion for me - it's a relationship, and I think there is a fine line between familiarity and disrespect.

But really - does that mar my christian report card?  Does it? Really?

I might argue that saying thanks before we eat can get legalistic  . . . oooohhh and "legalistic" is bad in all christian-ese.

I mean, God and I talk all the time!  There has been more than one prayer that started in my heart and my first words where "I Know!" because God was giving me a spiritual nudge. And I will just start talking to Him.   My Abba, Father.

But consider - God is my Abba, and KING.  So, like - say the president's kids, there is a time for intimacy and yet also to remember their fathers position and the respect that is to be show to that.
Granted, I lean towards the intimacy.   Like the intimacy I have with the kids at my table.

And when they leave the table I do insist that they do two things - take the plate to the sink, and say "Thank you for the food" to whomever prepared that meal.

I guess I could see how God just wants the same consideration from me.


I wonder, then, what the "take your plate to the sink" equivalent is?

Monday, August 29, 2011


Today, I found these popsicles in the freezer.  So *that's* where the spoons went!  
My 6 year old did it.

And I love that he had the independent gumption to do so!

Now, I love babies.  More, in fact, than I used to. 

But I am happy, happy, happy that my kids are just a little bigger now.
But not BIG.
Still small enough to be carried in after they fall asleep on the drive home.
Although the 7yr old is fastly approaching the time where I won't be able to, anymore.

But they are big enough to get themselves ready in the mornings, and big enough to make popsicles for themselves should they feel inclined.  And big enough to get a drink for themselves when thirsty.
Although, sometimes what they wear, use, drink can surprise/amuse you.

Like the cup I found with a straw in it.  

I remember seeing 3yr old with this drink.  I thought it was ice tea.
It was syrup.
Maple syrup.


Thursday, August 25, 2011

Dental Hygiene

Me to 6yr old: "you need to go brush your teeth when you're done with your lollipop because your teeth are red."
A little later he says "Hey MOM! Look! I'm brushing my teeth *WHITH* my lollipop!"


Sunday, August 21, 2011



I really like that word, ''dude", it fits so perfectly in so many situations.  It'll commiserate, express excitement, joy, defeat, be a greeting, and it is also the most non-committal "safe" word out there.

When first married I told my hubby that if he didn't agree with me about something, maybe he might be thinking I'm completely off my rocker - and he really just wanted to "fix" whatever problem I was having but I just needed him to listen he could safely say "Um, yeah." But "dude" is going to be my new replacement statement.

For example: 

"So, I just feel like it's all a big conspiracy man, and don't lick the stamps, OK? Because it's the Man's way of controlling population and I really care about you."


And what's more, "dude" if executed properly, can be left to be interpreted by the dude recipient to reflect any emotion or sentiment they need.  Nice.

So when you don't know what to say - just say "dude".  For me it is the verbal equivalent of Duck Tape.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

I'm a Christian and I have tattoos

Bohemian Bowmans is having a *very interesting* talk over christians and tattoos! 

Here are two of mine.

It's a cat.  
*sigh* people ask me if it's a wolf.  
Wish it was so cool - it's just a picture I found in a coloring book.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

My very first! Plank Pulling Thursday

This is my first Plank Pulling Thursday that Bohemian Bowmans has been hosting for quite a while now.

She says " . . . The one day a week that we strongly resolve to ignore the multitude of specks and sawdust around us and pull one bona fide plank from our own eye. Matthew 7:3-5, style."

So bear with me -

Recently, I've had two great friends celebrate their birthdays.  One, her hubby set up an elaborate surprise getaway to a Bed & Breakfast followed on their return to a surprise pot luck party with friends.  The other had her friends *our* friends throw a surprise black and white party. I just love both these ladies and every one of 'em that set all this up.  And I *love* to celebrate birthdays!

Here's the plank.

I've got childish envie up the wazoo.  Yes.  Grown woman, mother of three, former Army National Guard, field missionary since 1997, I. have. jumped. out. of. planes!  For crying out loud!  Picture me, on the floor, kicking my heals, pounding my fists.  IWAANNAABIRTHDAYPARTY!  I WANT SOMEBODY TO REMEMBER ME!

*sigh* (give me a minute to gather myself)

And my plank is big enough that I want someone else to remember my birthday.  I don't want to tell them - because it just. isn't. the. same.

My birthday is in May and very often gets rolled into Mother's day and so it's kinda "shared" *if* it's remembered at all.  Other years my birthday was remembered by my beloved, with a weak "Happy Birthday honey, but it's the end of the month . . maybe we'll do something when we get some money."

I sound ridiculous to myself.

Yet - ther' be a plank there, no doubt.

It's more like a pool for me.  A self pity pool that draws my interest and just makes me want to dive in and swim around in it.

So - now to pull this sucker.

I will chose NOT to swim in that self-pity pool.  And if I get my toes wet, I will pull them out quick.  I will give thanks for what I have.

I know that I have friends that love me.  I know my husband loves me. I know this.  And if I want a birthday party - next year - I'm going to let people know.  Oh - and I'm going to set aside a sum for my sweet hubby to go get something, and I'll provide him a list to chose from!  And I'll give God the thanks for another year.

So be warned friends and family . . . May 29th. It will be a true "memorial weekend" if I can help it!

Jessie J - Price tag - Sign Language

What a fun video!

Two thumbs up! Parenting Wild Things

Listen up friends!

I am a researcher by nature.  For each stage of my life, I've got a book books for.  When dating I had the dating books, when engaged, when first married, when pregnant . . etc.  Hence I've got my favorites.

Allow me to share with you one of my favs now.

Parenting Wild Things
Embracing the Rumpus

(- got any 'wild things' yourself?)

It's an e-book . . that was new to me.  First e-book I read; but that is neither here nor there . . .

First off,  I love this author's style of writing.  It's a quick and easy read.  She is authentic, witty and sincere.
She says:
"So I know quite a bit about imperfection. My parenting has been riddled with it."

Ever since I found her blog I've read her posts nodding my head and feeling very comadre with her.  The book is the same way.

The first thing she tackles is a mommy's tendency to compare herself to other mothers by sharing her own experience:
"I stare at the computer screen, reading the blog of another mom and stew, yet again, in a pile of self-pity and loathing. “I’m nowhere near as patient as her”, I bemoan. If my Three Year Old destroyed something of mine, I’d be furious. I would react, I would yell, I would sigh, I would damage the heart of the little soul that has been entrusted to me. I read the accounts of these super moms and grow surer every day that I am a terrible mother and that I’ll never be anything different." 

I loved her idea of kids being like aliens:

"I’m sad to say that I have spent too much of the last 10 years treating my children like they are criminals with ill intentions; like they purposely make that mess, or break that thing, or blurt out that inappropriate comment, just to upset me. 
But the truth is, my children aren’t criminals and neither are yours (well, at least not yet).
They’re aliens."

This actually was my favorite chapter.  And then at the end of the chapters she throws in these "challenges" . . . a little goal you can aim for to put some of the ideas into practice.

To be honest, I didn't agree with everything, but I don't think that's necessary to be able to reap some real gems from her experience, from her book.

I think Jennifer Bowman is a gem, this book is a gem and to sum it up in one word: Enjoyable

You can get a copy for yourself here.


Thursday, July 07, 2011

The good (out of the bad and ugly) in Mexico

So, about 10 days ago I think I broke my foot.

But *WHO* wants to go to the doctor and pay for the visit and x-rays and more if all they are going to do is tell you to take ibuprofen and stay off it.

That I can tell myself.

Like I just did.

Anyway.  My mom is now with me, and my foot is still hurting, and she is -lovingly-persistantly- telling me I need to get it looked at.

I'm gonna let her sway me, and I'll tell you why - Mexico.

Mexico doesn't have the doctor, pharmacy, radiology, labs and so on all rolled up into one package - you visit a doctor then you go and visit a lab clinic and then you go to some pharmacy nearby . . .all separate from the other.  And on a bad day, I hate this.

But today it sounds just peachy because it means that I can just hobble myself down to the radiology clinic and get x-rays for myself (for about 35 dollars) and if my foot is badly broken *THEN* I'll take the x-rays to the doctor and see what he has to say about it.

Otherwise, I'm just taking myself home and downing some ibuprofen.  Thankyouverymuch.

UPDATE: went and got the x-rays, and yes, it's official, it's broken.  And I'm back to *less than in love* with Mexico because the doctor put a cast on my foot but I'd have to go somewhere else to find a boot for it.

Sunday, May 01, 2011

Well, it's May.

I suppose I should catch everyone up since hubby got back from Honduras A MONTH AGO!

I had hardly any time to do anything, including facebook or blog time, but when he got home it just meant we were BOTH busy.

But I don't think I'm gonna finish it up today.  *sigh*

Maybe I can pencil blogger in . . . hmm . . some time in June?

Thursday, February 17, 2011


Two weeks of hubby being gone to Honduras for 2 months and I'm POOPED!

Thank goodness my box of Jolt-caffinaded gum- just came in . . !!!


Sunday, January 23, 2011

Shooting straight from the heart here -

My aunt tells me on the phone she's HAD IT!

She is not going to help my mother no mo!  Not checking her mail, not watching her house - NOTHING!

I'm not at all surprised.  I've felt that way several, several times.

And I'm kinda relieved that my aunt is expressing this . . .this . . . frustration.

Long I've been aware my mom is 'off'-or as I say it; has an undiagnosed mental illness- and it is a world of difference being related, to her, like being a sister or brother, and being this person's child.


Among my siblings we have concurred that one of the strongest reasons we have any relationship with my mom right now is because of the love and respect we've had for our aunts and uncles.  And I used to seek them out with questions and seeking answers and reasons - but more and more I found them asking me about mom.

And I understood that they didn't understand and that they still were running on an ideal relationship assumption - that blood is thicker than water.


Here's the deal folks - it's not.  And at times where for my, and my own family's good, I've had to be what would seem cruel with my mother - I would get frustrated that my extended family didn't always understand this - couldn't see it, couldn't support me.

Now finally - in my dear aunts desperations I'm seeing her come to a point - I hope - of understanding.

It's different is all -

Thursday, January 13, 2011

The truth comes out.

Making the shopping list my son reminds me to get bacon. 

Then he says "I've got something to tell you mom, . . . it's a little disgusting . . . (comes to whisper in my ear) 

. . . bacon comes from PIGS