This Made Me Laugh

Anyone else want to order one of these? You can get t-shirts, bags, mouse pads...

Pray for Me

Jerusalem had their town festival this weekend. On our walk downtown (Yep, we're close enough to walk), we stopped at the library book sale. In addition to a bunch of books for Minky, Sony found a new book and Rab found a few too. To round us off to the $1.00 mark (the bargain price was 10 books for a buck), I picked up a copy of Marcia Clark's memoirs of the OJ trial. I'm hooked. I'm embarrassed to admit that I'm having a hard time putting it down. I can't wait to find out how it ends...

Simpsonized Family

Instead of watching the Today Show after the last post, the fam gathered around the computer and Simpsonized ourselves. Nothing like a little Friday morning family bonding. Here are the results:

Really bad pastor joke

Rab and I were just getting ready to have some left over Jesus with dinner when I decided the wine might be a bit tastier with an ice cube in it. Not one to normally put ice in my wine, I kind of paused. Rab said, "Don't worry, honey, when it melts he'll turn it into wine for you."

Groan.

This Old House

Rab and I are learning quite a bit about owning an old house. When Rab was sharing some of our discoveries, one of his co-workers asked him if we'd actually looked at the place prior to purchasing it. Yes, we did. We're just a bit naive.



Here's what we've learned so far:

• Houses built before the turn of the century tend to expect double beds are the largest bed you'll ever move up the stairs. If you desire to have a king or queen sized bed upstairs, plan on buying a split box spring or sawing your box spring in half.
• Rab's office has absolutely no electrical outlets. This is presenting an issue with his computer set up.
• The on-off switch for the dining room involves pushing buttons and utilizing 100 year old wiring.
• The outside door in the basement is siliconed shut. The cellar-like door outside that complements it is locked with a Masterlock that no longer has an identifiable key. These realities impede accessibility and impair the doors' abilities to serve as fire escapes. Not to mention the fact that it gives us 2 washers and 2 dryers downstairs because the seller couldn't talk her movers into moving her washer and dryer up the rickety interior basement stairway.
• We have a defunct cistern in the basement. It's not causing problems or anything, it's just kind of unique...after all, how many people can say they have a cistern nowadays?
• Our "carriage house" garage has a fireplace in it.
• Getting your internet and cable provider to wire your upstairs family room in a non-intrusive, aesthetic way could prove challenging.
  
• The weird hallway downstairs is angled in such a way that our couch could not make it up the stairs. Luckily, the couch was a seminary hand-me-down. Anybody need a couch?
  

Key to all the people in this blog

It's gotten to the point where I can't keep all the code names straight. Alas, here is my key - for both you the reader and me the writer. I'm sure I've left a few out, but they can always be added later.

Mrs. Awesome and the whole Awesome gang - PMC's family. They rock. They are fun, they are funny, they are entertaining, and we love 'em.

Future Bishop - my wise partner during our senior year. We served together as Co-Presidents of the student body. I was the daring mouth willing to advocate in meetings with the mucky mucks, he was the brains of the operation. He has the uncanny ability to keep me grounded and focused when I get all in a dither.

The Hospitables - These guys were our neighbors 2 years ago and are among the most wonderful Wisconsinites you'd ever meet. They hosted us numerous times this past summer as we trekked to LaCrosse for TT's vision therapy. You can read more about them here.

Journey Girl - my California friend who became my bud when we both lived in Oregon. I truly don't know what I'd do without her - she was one of two friends who dared to call my post-partum depression what it was and then to not leave my side as it seemingly devoured me. I love this woman!

The Kindhearteds are a solid, upbeat family in the Castle neighborhood. Mr. Kindhearted heads up the youth ministry efforts for the Castle kids and does a mighty fine job of it. Mrs. Kindhearted has saved me when I was at the end of my rope with TT and CK, their son, is a great kid. KK, Mr. and Mrs. Kindhearted's daugher, used to babysit our kids all the time before she turned 15 and got a life. We still adore her, though! The Kindhearted's helped out with TT's vision therapy for awhile and it was a tremendous help. This family is one of those family's you feel lucky to know.

Little Mister - Journey Girl's son, who will grow up to be a lobbyist. We've seen this career move coming since he was under 2. This kid cracks me up.

Mark the Little Brother I Never Had - Ah, Mark, he's great. He comments on my blog a lot. I like that about him. He already got a whole post dedicated to him, you can read it here.

The Mentor Women - when I began discerning a call to ordained ministry, the Bishop and my pastor both suggested I connect with some female pastors. I was lucky enough to meet up with these ladies and learn a great deal from them.

Ozzie and Harriett - a play on my neighbor's last name, these guys are your salt of the earth, Leave It to Beaver type family in all the best possible ways. Their kids are great friends with CH and TT, and Harriett is patient enough to have been in my carpool for 3 years. That deserves a medal.

PMC - PMC was a senior at the Castle when I transferred to the Castle as a 2nd year student. He saw me through systematic theology, built me up when I tore myself down, and along with his wife, Mrs. Awesome, helped out with TT when we had to pull him out of his preschool because we figured out it was a horrible setting. PMC likes to be funny, but he can also be an amazing theologian, a caring pastor, and a steady, loving friend.

Seminary Friend - now a pastor in North Dakota, Seminary Friend was among my first friends at the Castle. She and I prayed together every day the first year I was at the Castle and did lunch weekly our Senior year. We still prayed our senior year, just not together. :)

Sister Shana - Shana uses her name on her blog login, so I use her name here too. I call her a Sister because she works at a convent. Shana is often mentioned in my posts because she has become a close friend, because she cracks me up and because we spend a lot of time together. Hi Shana's mom, if you're reading this!

Small Town Girl - my neighbor my first year at the Castle and my dear friend for the rest of my life. STG has the amazing ability to see through all my youngest child facade and lovingly but insistently to call me to task. Her down to earth ways, self awareness and insights are a true gift. She will be an amazing pastor pretty soon.

Southern Same Name Lady has the same first name I do, although she goes by our legal first name and I go by a nickname. Her Southern joy and steadfast friendship are such a treasure to me. We often share lunch and the thoughts on our minds. She is one of those friends everybody needs: always has a smile and hug, always has a great insight, and always listens intently.

Southern Wisdom - my first friend at my second seminary (there have been 3...). A Southern girl who is my age, has two sons my age and a husband twice my husband's age (ok...not really twice...). SW is another friend who can see through the youngest child schtick and loves me anyway. She is a fellow Parrothead, so that automatically makes her really cool.

Travelin' Man - Journey Girl's husband. He and I once planned a surprise for Journey Girl's birthday - I showed up in California for it! He is a great guy who travels too much, works too hard and loves his family deeply.

The WAS-beens - the awesome Exec staff from student government: Future Bishop, Mark the little brother I never had, and Squatch.

The Writer - my seminary advisor and friend. The Writer has been an advocate, an encourager and a mentor to me and I hope that never changes.

Yoda - Yoda is beyond words, kind of like God. He and PMC are the only people my non-Christian husband would consider calling his pastor. Yoda has taught me to think deeply, to define what I believe while leaving open room for ambiguity, and to approach others with unorthodox evangelism. You can read more about him here.

If we couldn't laugh, we'd all go insane

In Santa Barbara, a bad business deal involves losing hundreds of thousands of dollars.
In Dubuque, it's realizing Shopko had the same product that you just bought at Target.

In Santa Barbara, great live music involves heading to the Bowl in shorts and a tank top wondering if David Crosby will randomly appear on stage again tonight.
In Dubuque, it's seeing the bank's tellers singing Christmas Carols in the lobby.

In Santa Barbara, grabbing some java is just a given part of any excursion.
In Dubuque, going to coffee is the excursion.

In Santa Barbara, the gate agent tells you that if she loved her cats any more than she does, it would be illegal.
In Dubuque, the gate agent says, "Oh my, great weather today ya know," when it's 28 degrees and sunny.

In Santa Barbara, your real estate agent shows up for your open house in their Mercedes and wears surfer shorts and a faded red t-shirt.
In Dubuque, your agent goes to Younkers the day before your open house to pick up one of their sensible $29 suits and shows up in a Chevy Lumina or an American minivan.

In Santa Barbara, the taxi driver tells you he's moving 1/2 hour away into a nice one bedroom, 700 square foot bungalow with parking because he can get it for only $1600/month.
In Dubuque, do they have taxis in Dubuque?

In Santa Barbara, people live on the mesa or in the valley
In Dubuque, people live off the county road or "up the way"


In Santa Barbara, you can find respite at Mission Santa Barbara.





In Dubuque, you can go to the Dickeyville Grotto.


In Santa Barbara, you watch out for pedestrians and hurried drivers.
In Dubuque, you watch out for deer, racoons and the occasional groundhog.

In Santa Barbara, men buy Beamers or Mercedes as they enter their midlife crisis.
In Dubuque, men buy Ford F150s without the king cab (after all, it's time for a 2 seater, Ma).

In Santa Barbara, the Homeland Security agent cracks up laughing in response when you say, "Oh yeah...just a little firmer and down to the right" as she pats you down for the random extra security check.
In Dubuque, the Homeland Security agent would likely say nothing at all but would think "ohhh my" and find the comment interesting as they avoided eye contact.
[Bonus: In Portland, there's no talking to Homeland Security! You'd be detained for crossing the line!]











In Santa Barbara, baggage claim is outside.
In Dubuque, baggage claim is inside on this teeny tiny conveyor that looks like a PriceCostco display for big boy airport baggage claims.

In Santa Barbara, diversity reigns - many languages are spoken & heard, skin colors range, men walk down the street arm and arm and nobody thinks twice about it.
In Dubuque, diversity means someone who dresses like me.

Living in limbo

The dream congregation that I’ve been waiting to interview with for the last month has completed their paperwork but isn’t interested in a “first call” person at this time. The synod is telling me that there's a strong likelihood that I may still interview there but not to get my hopes up. I guess that leaves me hopeful but not too hopeful. I'm not sure what to do with their words.

My call process seems to have involved such deep amounts of trust, wondering, and waiting. On a down day like today, I have to admit that those qualities are becoming tiring and depressing. Should I push for other interviews? Should I just put up and shut up? It's difficult to know how far to lean back into God's trusting arms, and it's difficult to know at what point I'm expected to make some sort of move. Quite honestly, I'm not even sure what moves are possible if I were to make one.

This all becomes compounded as I work 3 jobs, watch the debt load continue to mount and can’t afford to pay the rent. Yet, at the same time, life is not all bad. The boys are doing great in school and have fantastic teachers, C continues to work for a great company, and we’re surrounded by lots of love and friendship in our long-familiar cul-de-sac. I love my jobs even if I am constantly on the run. The good things seem to compound and confuse the situation too. Even more strangely, what I most hope for will actually create upheaval for the rest of my family - they're good now and I'm struggling versus I'm good and they're grieving and readjusting.

Life has become such a limbo existence. Really, we've lived in limbo since late February and 8 months is a long time to live in limbo. I feel like I can only make plans into the following week, because one phone call could change everything. In a blink of an eye, everything could change dramaticaly. It would be nice to plant some more permanent roots somewhere and to have just a small measure of predictibility in my life. I'd settle for simply knowing I no longer have to remember to add today's mail to the list of places that will need to be notified of an address change.

I suppose in some ways, living in limbo is a reality of life for anyone at any time. We never do know what the future holds. We never do know when or if we might receive a phone call that changes everything. Nonetheless, most of us do not live with the looming awareness that such a phone call is for sure coming at some unknown point in time.

I've been told to "live in the present," which sounds like great spiritual advice, but on a day like to today, the message only frustrates me. How do I turn off the awareness that one phone call could change everything? Does living in the present mean I should pack another box because I've got all the time in the world or does it mean I should unpack what's already in boxes and fully dwell here until something more is known about our future days and adventures? Does living in the present mean doing something about this hellish limbo reality or just doing the dishes?

And I thought buying a swimsuit was tough!

The other day, I got a flier from a local department store advertising their big sale. The flier told me that if I used my store charge card, I could even save an extra 25% on anything I buy on Friday. Yippie! All week long, I've been looking forward to this afternoon, knowing that I was going to hit the big sale and finally find a pair of boots. Last year at the end of the season, I attempted to find a pair of boots on clearance, but I didn't like the ones left in my size and I loved the ones not available in my size.

Buying a pair of boots did not sound like a difficult venture this time - considering that it's the beginning of the season and everything should be available in my size. As CH can attest, I've already had the good fortune to find many pairs of shoes that fit. Finding a pair of boots should be a breeze - especially at the prices being advertised less 25%, right? Well...

After browsing the other departments (a girl always has to look at her new clothing options), I found my way to the shoe department where 6 or 7 employees were busily scampering about while about 15 customers attempted to find just the right shoe or boot in those quickly dwindling moments before the schools dismissed for the day. I kid you not - I think every customer there was under a time crunch and was a mother of elementary school aged children.

You wouldn't think that a ratio of 6-7:15 would be bad. It actually sounds pretty great, right? Well, for some reason, there was much flutter of activity but few customers able to find someone to help. I'm not sure what to make of that. Once I finally did catch the eye of The Lady in the Sweater, I was able to explain what I was looking for. Then, I waited....and waited....and waited. I honestly thought that maybe Lady in the Sweater went on break and forgot about me. Just as I was about to try to find someone else to help me, Lady in the Sweater appeared with my boots. While trying them on, I noticed that Lady in the Sweater had about 7-8 customers on her radar, while two other salespeople stood and talked at the sale rack and two others were Behind the Cash Register Only people. This brought the effective ratio down to 2-3:15. Hmmmm....

The boots were too tight in the toe, which was no big deal because I could move up a 1/2 size. But the depressing thing was that there wasn't enough boot to make it all the way around my leg as I zipped it. This is a creative way to say that my legs are too fat for run-of-the-mill, on-sale boots at a national department store. I really didn't think I'd have to face weight issues while trying on boots.

After I extricated my toes from potential boots #2, Lady in the Sweater was nowhere to be seen. I decided to ask Talker at the Sales Rack #1 for a larger size. She asked, "Isn't Lady in the Sweater helping you? She should be around sometime soon." Then she actually walked away! I caught Talker at the Sales Rack #2 (who was no longer talking with #1 but was now standing and staring blankly into the mayhem) and asked her for help. After another long wait (where are these people keeping their stock of boots?!), Talker #2 arrived with larger sizes. Toe space was still a problem. Then Lady in the Sweater reappeared and asked how I was doing. I explained my issue and she suggested a pair of boots that were 3 times (there's that number again!) the price of the first boots. I replied, "Umm...no. I need to stay more in this price range." She happily sauntered off in search of some suitable, bigger toe area boots.

She actually came back fairly quickly this time. I loved the boots she chose and they fit great in the toe area. I still had the fat leg issue, but out of pride I refused to admit it and bought the damn boots. Which are brown, not black like I'd hoped. But as Cash Register Only Lady #1 was ringing up my purchase, Cash Register Only Lady #2 said, "The brown ones are always so hard to find - they disappear off the shelves quickly. You're lucky!"

I think I need to begin a regular work out routine so I can experience my luck by actually fitting into my new, hard earned boots. My fabulous friend Shannon told me today that she just received a list of excuses not to work out from her daughter's cross country coach. I told her I need a copy so I can convict myself as the Excuse Queen of Exercise.

My process for cleaning our home

• Begin with checking email, reading friends' blogs and posting to own blog
• Check email again, just in case I have received one in the last ½ hour
• Eat dinner and dish up seconds
• Spellcheck latest blog post and correct stupid errors like “Grameboy”
• Walk into living room, kitchen, dining room area, sigh heavily and ponder where to begin
• Walk into living room, put everything that is on the floor onto the ottoman for later sorting
• Decide jeans are too tight for cleaning, climb stairs and put on PJ pants
• Pick up needy cat, listen to her purr, ponder lying down on bed with said cat, decide marital peace and a clean house are currently higher priorites
• Descend stairs, enter office, pull up MS Word on laptop to jot down process thus far so I don’t have to remember too much
• Wonder if I do in fact have adult ADD as some have suggested
• Keep typing draft of this blog post
• Return to living room to put stuff that is on floor onto ottoman
• Find obscure things on living room floor, like super mega sized ice scraper, blame children
• Hang up coats that previously filled hall closet but had to be removed so maintenance could spray enzyme cleaner on the hallway carpet after TT flooded the hallway
• Realize I forgot to blog the story about TT flooding the hallway with his bathwater
• Seriously wonder where husband is…have no idea
  
• Answer door, talk to KK about how TT refuses to do his vision work with her tonight
• Yell downstairs, discover husband is on computer, tell him he gets to do vision homework with TT
• Wait 10 minutes, continue cleaning, holler to husband once again, mention current time
• Wonder why I’m always the default parent, continue cleaning
• Fold some laundry
• Move to kitchen, sigh heavily once again, begin moving all dishes and stuff to one side of kitchen
• Husband comes upstairs, goes outisde to get child. Husband and child return, ask husband if dishes in dishwasher are dirty or clean
• Husband tells story about new trend where people have 2 dishwashers and dishes constantly cycle between the dirty one and the clean one, dishes never have to be put in cabinets
• Imagine having more cabinet space, remember that I love my husband because he makes me laugh, wish I had two dishwashers
• Begin dishes, realize that there are more dishes than there is room in the dishwasher, wish for two dishwashers again
• Listen to husband convince child to do vision homework, remember that I'm not always the default parent afterall, remind myself how great he can be with the boys
• Decide my life would be easier if I made my 5^th grader do chores, feel guilty for not being better about assigning chores, wonder what kind of men I'm raising/creating
  
• Answer door, get package with AAA maps from neighbor that was delivered to her by mistake, tell neighbor she too can order free maps with her AAA membership
• Call for 5^th grader, assign recycling to him, he asks me to help him take recycling to curb, I say I don’t have shoes on, laugh when he replies, “Well…it’s not like you don’t have 43 pairs of shoes! I’ll bet you could find a pair to put on.” Congratulate myself on raising a Pacific Northwesterner in Iowa rather than a Midwestern Nice kid. Consider this a great accomplishment.
• Answer phone for 5th time tonight. Thank God that Shana got home safely and got her flat tire fixed, and realize how much I miss her, tell her PMC is coming to town tonight
• Wonder when PMC is going to show up and if he’s going to return my phone message. Realize how much internal chatter clogs my brain.
  
• Resume cleaning, descend to basement, decide “Bachelor Pad” is still an apt term for downstairs TV room, pick up food-related trash, leave rest of mess for another day
• Answer door, receive bags 2 and 3 of hand-me-down clothes from Ks. Thank my lucky stars for them for the 800^th time tonight. Realize thanking the Ks without ceasing is easier than praying without ceasing. Help CH sort through the clothes
• Discover dining room table, clean it off, wipe it down
• Discover time, make list of remaining tasks (well…some of them anyway), post this entry and call it a night

Look! In the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's a Lutheran!

I preached at a local congregation this morning. The text, Mark 7:1-23 with a bunch of convenient cuts from the lectionary gurus, is certainly not among my most favorite pericopes. Basically, Jesus tells the people that deep inside, they are all scum. Nice, uplifting text...

At the beginning of the service, I saw the seminary president come in. He's a member but he's always travelling so he's not there every Sunday. I had a dream last night that he came to church this morning. I guess some dreams do come true. Upon seeing him, I thought, 'Oh great, here's one of the most challenging, crazy, tear-my-hair-out-trying-to-figure-out-what-to-preach, law-recognizing-yet-attempt-to-bring- home-some-sort-of- grace sermons I've ever delivered and a systematic theologian is here to hear it.' I actually put my head on the pastor's shoulder and moaned.

I gave the sermon and it seemed to go well. The rest of the service went off without a hitch. It seemed really thematically cohesive even though 4 different people, none of whom communicated with the 0ther, assembled it. I love that Holy Spirit stuff.

After the service, Pastor J said to me, "Yeah...that's one of those texts that make it really hard to proclaim boldly "THE GOSPEL OF THE LORD" at the end of the gospel reading...I told the Assisting Minister I was really glad you were preaching and not me!"

The seminary president came up to me after the service and shook my hand. He has this way of making comments that are really funny in the moment but leave me scratching my head afterward. Today, he said, "I think that's the most Lutheran I've ever heard you." I think that was a compliment...but I'm not sure what I've sounded like before. Jewish? Hindu? Ba'Hai? Oregonian, God forbid?! Anyway, I guess I passed the test. I sound more Lutheran than ever.

So I googled "Law and Gospel" for a fitting picture for this post.
This was too weird to pass up.

Law & Gospel Desk
Train up a child in the way he should go... God's basic instructions for a happy, productive life are imprinted on the desktop for daily viewing. This desk features colorful illustrations of Moses with the Ten Commandments and the Ascension of Christ with the verse John 3:16.

How I've spent my day

Ok...here's me at a Buffett concert and here's me on a Sunday morning. Can you tell which is which? As Jimmy sings: "Oooohhh...there's a thin line between Saturday night and Sunday morning."

Family portrait

What do you think? C is not so sure about the one I created for him. I dressed him in his work clothes. Maybe he wanted something more exciting. I would've put myself in a grass skirt if I could've.

Go to this site to create your own South Park character. I added some of the stuff using photo software, so don't drive yourself crazy looking for a Gameboy or a Parrothead symbol.

Surprising illusions, eccentric confusions

How do I even begin to tell the story of Arwen, the cat who thinks she's both a dog and the Queen of our home, and my new shirt? Mark has challenged me to do so. Since I'm not one to back away from a good challenge, I'll give it a go...

I bought a new shirt the other day. I set it on the ottomon to take a picture of it so you could all admire my funky taste in clothes. It was still laying out on the ottoman in the living room the other night, and Mark and I were talking and hanging out. Arwen was at the side of the couch watching the fish in the fishtank. She must've been feeling a need for a royal-fix because all of the sudden, she began to jump onto her throne (aka the ottoman). Instead, she hit the ottoman with one, maybe two, paws, sprang into the air at least 6 inches, twisted mid-air about 120 degrees, landed with one paw on Mark's sandaled foot, poked a hole in Mark's foot, sprang back up about 4 inches or so, and then jumped onto the floor. From the floor, she hunkered down in fear with her chin near the ground, looking at the shirt. She was positively afraid of it. Mark leaned over and moved it an inch or so and Arwen FLIPPED OUT! She caught air once again, backed up and began walking backwards away from the ottoman. Her gaze was fixed on the mysterious shirt that had taken over her throne.

Of course, we couldn't leave the situation at that. Mark continued to move the shirt and mess with the cat. Yeah, we're desperate for cheap entertainment around here. C came up and we told him about it. I swear Arwen knew we were laughing at her and talking about her. She left the room in disgust.

So this morning, I bought this jacket from Coldwater Creek. Do you think it will freak her out too? Any bets on how high she'll jump?

Dear Red states...

Grabbed this from Huffington Post.com. It makes me laugh. Completely factual or not, it's entertaining:

Dear Red States...

We've decided we're leaving. We intend to form our own country, and we're taking the other Blue States with us.

In case you aren't aware, that includes Hawaii, Oregon,Washington, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois and all the Northeast. We believe this split will be beneficial to the nation, and especially to the people of the new country of New California.

To sum up briefly:

You get Texas, Oklahoma and all the slave states. We get stem cell research and the best beaches.
We get Elliot Spitzer. You get Ken Lay.
We get the Statue of Liberty. You get Dollywood.
We get Intel and Microsoft. You get WorldCom.
We get Harvard. You get Ole' Miss.
We get 85 percent of America's venture capital and entrepreneurs. You get Alabama.
We get two-thirds of the tax revenue, you get to make the red states pay their fair share.

Since our aggregate divorce rate is 22 percent lower than the Christian Coalition's, we get a bunch of happy families. You get a bunch of single moms.

Please be aware that Nuevo California will be pro-choice and anti-war, and we're going to want all our citizens back from Iraq at once. If you need people to fight, ask your evangelicals. They have kids they're apparently willing to send to their deaths for no purpose, and they don't care if you don't show pictures of their children's caskets coming home. We do wish you success in Iraq, and hope that the WMDs turn up, but we're not willing to spend our resources in Bush's Quagmire.

With the Blue States in hand, we will have firm control of 80 percent of the country's fresh water, more than 90 percent of the pineapple and lettuce, 92 percent of the nation's fresh fruit, 95 percent of America's quality wines (you can serve French wines at state dinners) 90 percent of all cheese, 90 percent of the high tech industry, most of the U.S. low-sulfur coal, all living redwoods, sequoias and condors, all the Ivy and Seven Sister schools, plus Harvard, Yale, Stanford, Cal Tech and MIT.

With the Red States, on the other hand, you will have to cope with 88 percent of all obese Americans (and their projected health care costs), 92 percent of all U.S. mosquitoes, nearly 100 percent of the tornadoes, 90 percent of the hurricanes, 99 percent of all Southern Baptists, virtually 100 percent of all televangelists, Rush Limbaugh, Bob Jones University, Clemson and the University of Georgia.

We get Hollywood and Yosemite, thank you.

Additionally, 38 percent of those in the Red states believe Jonah was actually swallowed by a whale, 62 percent believe life is sacred unless we're discussing the death penalty or gun laws, 44 percent say that evolution is only a theory, 53 percent that Saddam was involved in 9/11 and 61 percent of you crazy bastards believe you are people with higher morals then we lefties.

By the way, we're taking the good pot, too. You can have that dirt weed they grow in Mexico.

Peace out,
Blue States

"Antiques - new and used"

This was what was on a sign on our way home from Northern MN. Is it just C and I or does the phrase "new antiques" sound a bit impossible? C suggested maybe they are items that were placed in storage immediately after production and now the items are available for sale...

Just got in after 4 days away - a great trip to see old friends and to attend another great friend's ordination. Lots of laughter and talking. More to come when I get over this rotten cold I've contracted. And, besides, the dysfunctional cats are thoroughly furious with us for being gone...

Construction, vision, old friends, cats in heat & parenting

The boys and I just returned from La Crosse. Because of construction, the trip took nearly 2 hours more each way than it should have. I am tired of driving!!! We went to La Crosse so TT could have a vision exam and be screened for a vision processing disorder. He came away with reading glasses and a line up of vision therapy appointments. It ends up his eyes process information in their own unique style, have poor stamina, and do not "team" effectively. We'll be driving up to La Crosse weekly for awhile. But if it helps, it is so worth it.

We were able to stay with some great friends, M & A, about an hour North. What a treat for the kids to play with their buddy (M & A's son) and to have a change of scenery. Our friends are so hospitable and it is always so great to see them. They're those rudder type people who seem to steadily go along while the currents of life ebb and flow. I appreciate their style, which is so unlike mine. Our hosts invited, T & B, some other former classmates over. They had just moved a few miles from where we were. What a great surprise! One of their kids had just celebrated his birthday and we were able to do an impromptu birthday party Wednesday night. Yay!

The funniest part of the whole experience was our friends' cat, Vivienne. She is always entertaining anyway (e.g., climbing into kitchen drawers through kitchen cabinets, sitting in baskets on the top of the fridge...). This time, she was in heat. Need I say more? It was an evening full of entertainment and yowling. I had to wonder what TT knew and understood when he said, "Vivi is saying, 'I need a boyfriend!!!!! Give me some babies!!!!!!!! I need a boyfriend!!!!!!'" I guess he heard us talking about how they're going to breed her next year...

The ride home, as I said before, was long. In addition to the construction drama, we only had one Gameboy (well...we thought we only had one until we got home and found the other under a seat!!! Aaarrgh) and both kids wanted to play it. TT had decided very intentionally not to bring his Gameboy. But...then he changed his mind and could not understand why this was not anybody else's fault or problem. Needless to say, for my own sake and for the sake of my sanity, I ended up buying off CH with a new game if he'd let his brother play Gameboy on the way home. TT, of course, needed a game to play and I ended up buying him one too. I can't believe I just spent over $60 on Gameboy games!!! I told C about the whole mess when he got home and he completely understood. Thank you, Jesus! John Rosemond, if you don't like what went down, tough beans! It works for us! (If you don't know who Rosemond is, consider yourself lucky. Yep, that's him in the pic). Our local newspaper blesses us with his column each Sunday, and he gives what I consider to be among the worst parenting advice in print. Scary "traditional parenting" kind of stuff that makes me wonder: (a) if he ever raised his own children - really raised them and was there and engaged and not just a "wait 'til your father gets home" kind of Dad, (b) if he does have children, if his children have any use for him today, and (c) what he would do with a special needs child on a 24/7 basis (I feel empathy for the kid just thinking about this). When I searched google for a pic, I discovered he's got a book called "Parenting by THE BOOK" (caps are not mine) - sounds like some seemingly "Evangelical Christian" stuff. For all I know, he and Dobson are in cahoots. Run away, parents, run away!!!! [Bring on the comments, readers! If my experience is anything like Shana's, I'm sure I'll tick off some stranger for this.]

I suppose if I'm wasting my time ranting on about this guy, it's time to sign off.

Signed,
Proud to be a trust-my-gut Mom

I'm not a certified air conditioner installer

Oh my....last night held the most ridiculous surprise. I decided to read awhile when I went to bed. Since TT was in my bed with C, I went into TTs wonderfully air conditioned room and snuggled into his double bed with a book.

So I'm sitting there reading and I hear: drip........drip.........drip. Now, it's hot outside and there's not a sink in TTs room. But, it's almost 1:00 a.m. and I'm reading a part of Cry the Beloved Country where umfundisi's church roof leaks like a sieve. "I couldn't be imagining the sound, could I?" I thought to myself. The book is not *that* descriptive. So, I furrowed my brow and went back to reading. Then I heard it again: drip....drip......drip. Even the cats heard it and they're not reading the book, so I knew it had to be real.

So I looked over at the air conditioner and sure enough, in the bottom left corner, the Vegietales blanket (explanation to follow) is dripping onto the floor. And not just little drops - big fat drops. I have to admit, I used to kind of like having a chance to mention TTs air conditioned room because I put the ac in there all by myself this year. When I installed it and it was crooked because of the window frame, my flawed ingenuity came up with the plan of putting his Vegietales blanket under the unit to even things out. All should've been well...right? When I told C what I'd done, his closet perfectionism didn't try to fix it. In fact, he was impressed. Well, until I told him this morning about what happened.

Anyway, back to the story. So there I am in TTs room at 1:00 am with Arwen the bulimic cat who thinks she's a dog , Aragorn the cat who makes a living as an escape artist, and a dripping air conditioner. I pulled the Veggietales blanket out, and it was wetter and drippier than Niagra Falls. The cats, of course, found this fascinating. The air conditioner, no longer finding stabilizing support from a blanket, began to teeter in the window pane. I was able to grab it before it found its way directly onto the firepit 15 feet below. Barely. Then Aragorn decided to jump onto the roof and explore while Arwen stood as distractingly underfoot as possible.

Many of you reading this know that the ac is in a dormer window. This presented it's own challenge as I attempted to bring the wet, drippy ac in and not bump my head on the wall/ceiling. TTs bed is right up to the dormer, so I had about 1 1/2 feet to manuever. I didn't want to set the ac on TTs bed, but I had to. So now my bed for the night was, well, wet.

Somehow I managed to get Aragorn the escape artist back inside. Arwen, almost barking with excitement at this point, began sniffing the ac and jumping on and off it. I got the window closed and realised that the leaking has been going on awhile (Shana - don't tell housekeeping!). The window frame has water marks and the floor is still a bit spongy in the dormer area. Maybe it's a good thing we're not moving right away. TTs room needs to dry out first.