House nonsense.

Most of you remember the Maryland Kitchen Fisasco of '05 (that should be read aloud as "Ought Five." Thanks, Grandma.)

So it should come as no surprise to you that I can't keep my hands to myself and leave well enough alone already (you know you'd worry about me if I didn't tear something apart.) First, I moved the thermostat. It was originally in the living room (and it was one of the old school round dial thermastats that was lucky to within ten degrees of what it was set for.)


Anyway, the living room has french doors. Which makes it a really bad place for the thermostat. So I moved it. It is now located in the hallway. Yay!

Then, I went all kinds of wiring crazy and did this:




I couldn't help it! The old switches and outlets were nasty looking. Off white and slightly dirty and painted over in places. And the two switches that control the foyer light were just too annoying (only one worked and it only worked if the other one was in a certain position.) So you see, I had no choice. Plus now we have nice clean rocker switches and new outlets with nice new switchplates (the brushed nickel plates are only in the foyer - the rest got plain, pretty white.) Rusty and I stood at either switch and switched them on and off for five minutes after I finished just because we could. The poor neighbors probably wondered if we had installed a strobe light. Or were doing morse code.

Then there was the day I went to replace a bulb in one of the lights in the upstairs hallway. We always wondered why they didn't have all the sockets filled and now we know - because when you tried to remove an old, burned out bulb? It just twisted and twisted until it broke off, leaving the old bulb roots stuck in the socket (really, what would you call them? "Roots" is totally fine.) Anyway, the hallway was so stinkin' dark I had to do something. So I replaced the lights. Oh, look! There's one now...


The boys acted like blind men who'd just been healed when they saw these - "I can see! I can see!" Poor little light-deprived dudes. Like little naked mole rats.

Anyway, I knew some of you would worry if you didn't hear I was busy tearing stuff apart and putting it back together (Jodi.) But don't worry, this isn't a sign that we're getting ready to sell the house (I promise, Jodi.) It would just be nice to live in a house we fixed up more than a few months so I'm hoping to get more switches and outlets replaced, replace the dining light fixture, and get Rusty to set aside a day that we can put up crown molding in the rooms that don't already have it (Rusty's spoiled by my handyman ways.) Then I'll invite you over to enjoy it with us, Jodi!

(Ok, you've already been here. But still.)

More music videotape love.

More of the songs from that 1980-something video tape:







I never claimed the videos were all that good. But the songs are still pretty great.

Art thing?

A lot of you have heard me talking or read my rambling about this Faith & Art idea. The store and teaching classes and whatever. It sounds great and I've been praying about it and I've come to the conclusion that God doesn't want me to start big. He wants me to just start where I am.

So here's the deal. Anyone who's interested in getting together and making a mess, talking, hanging out and figuring out how this works is more than welcome. Our basement is as good a place as any and if we move the couches and the foosball table and fold up the treadmill we can get a decent number of people down there. What would we do? Well, I have an idea that's come together over the last week of praying about this. It would kind of be a "class" I guess, but more open. I'll lead it but I don't want to teach - I want to bounce ideas off of you and get ideas back. I'm in it to learn just like everyone else.

The premise is this: Art is a form of worship. Whether you knit, paint, scrapbook, stamp, whatever. It's using your body and your abilities to glorify God. Some of us aren't comfortable putting ourselves out there in some ways but give us a blank page and we'll be busy for hours. But I know that scares some of you "non-artists." And that's the second part of this. Some who consider themselves "non-artistic" would be surprised to find out this isn't about technical ability. This is about seeing yourself and God and your relationship with Him in a way you wouldn't normall think about. The project I'd like to work on the for first try wouldn't necessarily be what some people would consider "art." But it's very visual and would give you something tangible to take home with you. And "icon", as Madeleine L'Engle might describe it. Something to trigger your brain into automatically remembering God's love for you.

So that's the deal. You wouldn't need a ton of supplies or have to spend much money for this (maybe $10 total, if that?) And I'm not sure I could pull it together before Christmas but if we can, then that's fabulous. Otherwise, I'm aiming for mid-January or later. Either leave me some comments or email me.

Like a challenge?

How many of you cringe when you think of the holidays and the food and the decorations and the parties and the food and the food and some more food? Yeah, me too. I've lost some weight since the spring but didn't really try too hard over the summer. I didn't gain but didn't lose anything else. I was pretty active up until our Disney trip so even without the loss? I have gone down a size. Which is awesome. But again, haven't really put much effort into paying attention to what I'm eating. Which is stupid considering the whole "I'm on medication for glucose problems" thing. Good one.

Anyway, so last week I was at Old Navy and tried on a pair of really cute cords. And? They were too big. Holy crap, people. I fit into a size I haven't worn since this PCOS* stuff started. I swear, seeing that smaller size on the tag? Was like smoking crack. Now I'm all about the smaller size (and no. I did not buy the smaller size. Because though they were cute? I failed to notice that they were "lowest rise." And there is no need for "lowest rise." Because no one needs to see the bits that are exposed when one bends over in "lowest rise.")

So. Now I'm back on the wagon as far as putting some effort into it. I mean, I'm proud of myself for not gaining anything over the summer. But there's more work to do. And if I don't get some sort of grip on it now then the holidays will be disasterous and that smaller size ("lowest rise" or not) will be just a dream. I cannot allow that to happen. So what am I doing about it? I'm harrassing my friends about it. Of course.

I have emailed a challenge to some of my friends and announced that I'm trying to lose ten more pounds by Christmas. That's just about two months and very do-able. If I lose more, than yay for me because I have more than ten to lose overall anyway. But ten is a good number. And once it turns competitive? Then there is no choice but to do it because the alternative is too humilitating. Which is why I'm posting it publicly here. If you're interested in joining the fun, let me know. There are gift cards and mail love included.

*PCOS = Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (a.k.a. "Pain in my ass" and reason I'm on the Metformin.)

Tagged by Jodi.

Jodi tagged me and since I have nothing useful to day today I'm going to go with that. Thanks, Jodi! Apparently I'm supposed to tell you all what I was doing ten years ago, twenty years ago and thirty years ago.

So ten years ago I was a twenty-five year old newlywed. Rusty and I had been married for about six months by late October of 1997. We lived in a great little apartment in Columbia, Maryland, outside of Baltimore. I was working at a desktop publishing job and he was working at NASA for the Landsat satellite project at the time (this last position he held at NASA was with SOHO.) Actually, almost exactly ten years ago this week was when we had a really fun Halloween party where we did one of those murder mystery games. Everyone came dressed as their character (and we made up some extra characters because so many people came.) The prize for top costume had to be Ashley and Wood dressed in leiderhosen made out of duct tape. I'm still not sure how we squeezed everyone into that apartment.

Twenty years ago... 1987... holy cow. October of my sophomore year of high school. I had just turned fifteen. This would have been around the time of year that I went to the homecoming game and dance at my boyfriend's high school (which was awesome because my high school didn't have school dances.) Also, around this time twenty years ago was when I met one of my very closest friends, Amy Williams. I was a cheerleader and she was at one of the games. It was raining and some of the cheerleaders were sitting under umbrellas because it was so nasty but one or two of us decided to stick it out. Amy came and sat near us and did all the cheers with us because that's exactly who she is - she has a great ability to look at any situation and find the most fun aspect of it and take it from there. I spent more time in high school laughing with her than anyone else. I still adore her and her family and now our kids love hanging out (and trying to push each other into Winton Woods lake. True friendship.)

And... 1977. In October of 1977 my mom was remarried for about seven months by then. I had just turned five. We were living in a new house in the middle of nowhere (a.k.a. the Fields-Ertel exit where at the time Natorp was the only thing around.) I had started kindergarten at J.F. Burns elementary school that fall where I made a friend named Jenny Hoop. Then, at the end of kindergarten my mom decided to put me into a new little Christian school in Fairfield for first grade. Where I started school the first day and walked in to see... Jenny Hoop. Our parents didn't know each other (yet) but her mom was the church secretary next door to the school and they had enrolled Jen there as well. Jen and I still keep in touch and I still love her. She's one of those people I don't see for a while then when I see her it's like no time passed at all. And since we moved back I've gotten to see her a lot more often.

So. Three decades. Man, I feel old.

No TV talk, I promise.

So that was a nice little diversion, I'll admit.  But the reality of things right now is this - I feel God pushing me to grow up a little.  To grow up a lot.

Rusty and I had lunch with our pastor last week.  Tom was really helpful in helping us... ok, me... figure out what's important and what's not (Rusty never seems to get confused or doubt himself as far as his faith is concerned.)  Some of it was stuff I already knew.  I just wanted to hear it from someone else.  And Tom called me on that and asked, "why?"  and asked why I don't trust myself spiritually.  I would like to just end it here and say, "I don't know.  Let me think about it."  But that's total b.s.  I have a good idea of why.

There are so many professional Christians around.  I mean, I have faith and I think I understand what I read in the bible.  But then someone with a degree or book title on his resume makes things more complicated than they need to be.  Do I just double check myself and shrug and go on with my day?  No.  Not usually.  I'll admit my first response is often to assume that I got it wrong.  And that opens the door for all kinds of stupidity.  For fourteen different people with fourteen different agendas to jump in the pool and start splashing me with their knowledge while simultaneously trying to drown the other thirteen before they can get to me first.  I hate it!  What the crap is up with American Christianity at this point?  And what's wrong with me that I can't get around these idiots and live my life in Christ?

Seriously, I didn't realize how angry I was about all of this.  All of my questioning last week wasn't an indication of my faith starting to waver.  I wasn't trying to re-evaluate what I believe.  I realized that after talking to Tom.  I was trying to figure out where my beliefs put me in terms of the rules and how am I supposed to identify myself as a Christian in America today?  And guess what?  I refuse to do it.  I refuse to identify with anyone outside of Christ himself.  My political convictions are my own and I live in a country that allows me to choose based on those convictions.  I believe there are some great people trying to help the masses really understand the salvation that God offers us - not just the promise of eternity with God but also the unconditional love that frees us to truly be ourselves and allows us to start looking at others differently in light of that love.  The fact that Jesus' life and death give us reason for meaningful existence on earth until we die?  A benefit that some don't seem to grasp.  Their loss.  And all I can do is my best to live the example instead of giving in to the desire to issue a collective bitch slap to the more annoying amongst them (oh ye of great big mouths and very little love.)

(And by "them" I mean the larger group of angry, fighting, "Christian brothers" busy tattling on each other and tossing hate grenades.)

So there is it.  Whether he realized it or not, Tom issued a challenge by putting out there the possibility that God is trying to push me into the possibility of some spiritual maturing taking place.  I spent so much of my time growing up lying to myself - and often to others by acting like someone I wasn't - that I have one major rule I hold myself to since becoming a real believer.  I will not lie to myself or to anyone else.  I refuse to act in any way that goes against what I know to be true.  So I have to take this and go with it.  I know what I believe and I have to start standing strong in those beliefs.  And while I do that, I can not let just any old big mouth with a seminary degree bully me into believing that I'm not smart enough, or faithful enough, or good enough to experience God one-to-one.  I totally am.

So now I'm going to go gorge myself on C.S. Lewis.  The Great Divorce is a very comforting book for me...  weird word to describe a book, I guess.  But that's the first word that came to mind and it fits.  I think it's because in the story, in order to enter heaven you have to die to everything you were and be brutally honest with yourself before you can really experience the full reality of what God has in store for you.  And I also like it because Lewis' sci-fi heaven is not a very "church-like" interpretation at all.  Scandalous.

A better explanation.

Ok, so I did a pretty crappy job of explaining that show. So what this and it pretty much covers it. And you can see what I mean about the whole "stylized" thing (again, very cool):



Then watch this. And totally feel free to sing along:

Pushing Daisies

I don't watch a lot of TV. Or at least not consistantly. We record My Name is Earl, Mythbusters and two out of three CSI's (original and extra-cheese Miami flavor.) There are one or two other random shows I'll watch if I happen to catch them when they're on but for the most part I don't "follow" any one TV show anymore. I watched Lost during the first season but by season two I was so stressed out from the insanity of it all I just had to give up. It went from being quirky to needing a pen and notepad to keep up with it all. It's just not fun.

So a few weeks ago my mom mentions this show she thinks I'd really like - not just for what she's read about the story itself but also because it's supposedly to be very visually different. I love when my mom tells me about something because it "looks like you, Stacie." She's pretty much always on the ball with that one - from the Nick Bantock address book to Pushing Daisies. My mom's cool like that.

I decided that I'd go ahead and record an episode of Pushing Daisies and see if it was worth it. I'd missed the first week so our first recorded episode was number two. I swear, I was five minutes into it and I totally went back on my resignation to never get tangled up in a continuing storyline again. Everything about this show appeals to me - visually, it's very stylized with the characters interacting in a pretty modern way and the dialogue isn't dated. But between the costumes (especially those worn by the female characters), the cars, the architecture and serious color saturation of it all you can't pin the time period down to any one decade. It's like they took the coolest elements of the last sixty years and mixed it all together. There's a narrator who moves the story along, the main character is referred to as "the pie-maker", and the main setting is his pie shop which is appropriately (and awesomely) named "The Pie Hole." It's all very art deco-meets-nifty 50's-meets-mod. I have to say, I really like it.

Then there's the storyline itself. I can't even begin to explain it (and it made no sense to me until I watched it play out) so you can click here and get a quick explanation: http://abc.go.com/primetime/pushingdaisies/index?pn=about It sounds pretty complicated but it's really not. And there are a few little twists that are achingly sweet like the fact that Ned couldn't catch Chuck when she fell and could only watch helplessly or that Olive can get outside of her own feelings and care about Chuck's grieving aunts (oh my hell, Swoozie Kurtz in the eye patch kills me.) Plus the lunacy of it all - a one winged carrier pigeon gets a new wing by way of a taxidermied parrot donor and a "Bedazzle" machine (seriously) or the explanation and flashback of the Asian guy's family civil war history.

So after the first week I kept feeling like there was something somewhat familiar about the show even though I only recognized a few of the main actors (Swoozie Kurtz, Kristin Chenoweth.) I realized it was something about the flow of the story or the dialogue. Or the totally casual and hysterical way it the show deals with death without being morbid at all. Then I read that it was created by the guy who also came up with Dead Like Me which was one of the funniest and most unique shows I every watched. Nail number two in the coffin of me not getting sucked in. But the final blow came on this last episode.

There is a scene where Olive is trying to get Chuck's aunts to leave their house where they've been confining themselves since Chuck's death. Olive makes a comment about the one-winged pigeon flying away instead of going back into the cage she used to transport it to the aunts' house. She says maybe the aunts could put their grief inside a birdhouse, an imaginary birdhouse. In their soul. And then they'd be able to venture outside their house again. I turned to Rusty and said, "I adore this show. They just referenced a 'They Might Be Giants' song. Without being super cheesy." Then the show comes back from commercial, and? The aunt played by Swoozie Kurtz is driving a 1940's looking car while Olive and the other aunt are in the back seat singing...



And then? I think maybe I swooned a little. And sang along.

YoungLife still rocks.

So when I was in high school I was involved in YoungLife. I went to a small Christian school but apparently someone was smart enough to say, "just 'cause those kids are in Christian school doesn't mean they're Christians." Rick Brantly, Donna Radford, Mike Murphy, Kathy Sullivan, Steve Rempe and Mikey with the last name I can't remember. I hated youth group but I adored YoungLife. My YL leader, Kathy, and I were especially close because her dad was my dad's boss. We had common GE employee picnic stories and she was so excited to meet "Dave Kelly's daughter" after getting Christmas cards from my family for years (my dad has worked for GE for over thirty years. Don't mess with a man with military clearance.)

Anyway, YoungLife was fun and cool and all about loving God without shoving it down your throat. It kept me sane in high school. I went on to do work crew one year and summer staff at Lake Champion, NY. And Rusty and I were leaders at Bowie High School in Maryland in the mid-90's when we were in college (before we were married.) I lived with my area director's family for a year when I was in college, some of our dearest friends are people we were involved with in leadership in Prince George's County, Maryland. YoungLife has played a big part in our lives individually and as a couple. Part of the story of how we met involves YL. It's a ministry we love and still support whenever possible.

Rusty and I at Bowie YL Halloween night at club, either 1995 or 1996

Having said that? I feel old and at the same time excited to see what this next generation of YL leaders is doing in the age of YouTube and mobile media. I was searching for "Bowie YoungLife" on YouTube and found this. It turns out it's Bowie, Texas, and not Bowie, Maryland. But still. This rocks (and the idea of Rusty, Erik, Buddy and John doing this makes me laugh so hard I squeak!):



I mean, the OK GO video is awesome. But this kills me - this is a group of guys not afraid to look like a bunch of idiots and who took the time to learn these moves just to entertain a group of high school kids for God's sake (literally.) And I'm so glad we never had to do anything quite so coordinated when we were leaders (though I did pretend to play guitar and sing a totally whacked out version of Smelly Cat at club once.)(And Rusty wore a metallice gold tuxedo. On purpose.)

Once I discovered YL on YouTube, I was totally impressed with the quality of the video I found. A few schools stand out, one in particular is Westside YL ("Westside" of what, I'm not sure.) They have a series of Real YoungLife Heroes videos set to the same style of the Budweiser commercials that made me laugh like an idiot when I found them. I'm posting one here and you can find the rest by clicking on the username:



So we're old now. It's been ten years since Rusty and I were leaders. But I still see the same humor and clever ideas and love for kids that we had for our kids and that our leaders had for us. And now we have a family at church whose daughters are involved in Lakota YL and it's fun to see them get so excited - and serve! - and see the cycle repeat itself again and again.

Back to music (thank goodness, eh?)

So this song wasn't on the mix video tape. But this was one of the first songs I remember liking in late elementary school or jr. high. Since Jodi broke out the Altar Boys (and since I couldn't find the 77's singing "Do it for Love") I now present the Coloring Song by Petra. Going old school.

(this is the only video with the song on YouTube so I had to go with it for the song itself. Can't vouch for all the images but seemed harmless.)



Ok, then I had to add this because it's so chapel-tastic. You can't get much more Christian-school-in-the 80's than this (to this day I can't stand listening to Amy Grant or Michael W. Smith.) I cannot count how many girls sang this as a "special musical selection" through my chapel career in jr. high and high school. And? The clothes are totally awesome and the girl in the blue sweater vest at the beginning is just so excited she can't stand it.

P.S.

For anyone getting tired of reading my rambling about all of this? Please understand that some of these issues are not hypothetical for me. There are people I know dealing with situations that are really hard on so many levels and how I love them and how I show God's love to them is a big thing. The only specific example I'll give is this from one of my old posts:

One of my closest friends died of AIDS two years after I moved here. I knew him for ten years, he went with me and helped me buy my first car, met and decided Rusty was good enough for me, and was a really, really great guy. But he never told me he was gay or when he got sick because he knew I'm a Christian and was afraid I "wouldn't love him anymore" (hearing someone tell me he said that nearly broke my heart because this guy was like my brother.) I found all of this out two years after he died. He apparently went to very great lengths to hide it from me since I met him when I was in high school, I worked with him, I hung out with him all the time. Do you have any idea how convicting that is, to know someone hid something like that - something so painful and life altering - because they were afraid you wouldn't love them anymore?

This is just one reason why stuff like this matters so much to me and why I get stuck on it.

Spiritual Formation.

Our church is doing a great new podcast called "The Next Level" with the intent that we, as Christians, learn to "feed ourselves." I've listened to all three episodes (I'm waiting for number four, guys...) and I've been really interested in what Tom and Luke have to say. I feel like for all my Christian school experience, Holy land map tests and daily bible class throughout high school I still have very little practical information on how to continue to grow past a certain point. But listening to the podcast and wanting to get more info on spiritual formation is what started these last few blog posts.

The reason I ended up Googling "Brian McLaren" and "dangerous" is because I had originally searched for "Spiritual Formation" and came up with this on the very first page of results: The Dangers of 'Spiritual Formation' and 'Spiritual Disciplines' Huh. Really. Then there was this: The Suburban Christian which referenced Brian. After a little more reading, I found out that my understanding that we're supposed to love and serve others can only go so far and if we love too much and try to make too many changes to the world around us in the name of love then we're in danger of promoting something called "Kingdom Now theology." Again, had no idea I was promoting anything more than trying to get around my own selfishness and see past what's going on with me and do something to help make someone else's life a little easier.

Honestly, this was all amazing to me. I mentioned that I had some idea that there were people out there that didn't like Brian's books. But I had no idea there were this many arguments for so many other things too. I totally didn't understand that many of those arguments were so hateful. Last week at small group Bruce asked, "so who does the bible say it's ok to not love?" Well, I didn't have an answer so I was planning on trying my best to not smack loser affair-having-wife-kicking-out-and-girlfriend-moving-in-while-totally-damaging-his-kids neighbor and to instead "love him" like Christ would. Now am I supposed to worry that if I do I'm somehow condoning what he's done? Where in the bible does it say when the love stops and the rules kick in? I mean, some point of view make it sound like if you love someone unconditionally then you're missing the point of the gospel (??!) and being too liberal and holy crap my head hurts.

For me, as someone who doesn't know Greek and can't use the word "eschatology" in a sentence and doesn't quite grasp the difference between doctrine and theology? Where do I start? I avoid Christian bookstores in general because you can walk in looking for a book on any given subject and depending on the denomination or personal slant of any one author you can get twenty books on the same subject and those twenty different books will tell you they're the right one. If you don't know anything about any of the authors you're at the mercy of the blurbs on the back of the book or like me, you'll go for the best jacket design (I'm an artist. Give me a break.) Anyway, this is the reason that Brian came up. We knew him and listened to him preach so obviously if I can avoid the other nineteen books out there and pick one from someone we know and trust, then I will, thanks. So after reading such crazy reviews and the downright hatred and fear out there regarding different books and authors I tried to do my homework and understand the arguements and that's where I hit the snag. Where my lack of understanding the terminology and the minutia of some of the points leaves me hanging. I want to understand if these arguments are valid, not just in Brian's writing but across the board.

Actually, I'll be really honest and say I don't want to take the time and trouble because it all annoys me. I know what I believe and why but I also admit I'm wrong sometimes (gasp!) So I feel like I need to think about things sometimes that I don't necessarily want to. I feel like it's a responsible thing for me personally to do because of my own experience in the past. I went through all those years in Christian school not knowing why I believed what I did. Then when it came down to it, I didn't actually believe what I thought I did. So now the why is something I feel I need to look into regardless of how irritating it may be.

Calmed down, thanks.

So could you tell I was a little amped up on that last one? I was being honest when I say, "I don't care what you call me" as far as which label applies to my particular brand of Christianity. But I really struggle with the fact that some of the arguements seem so petty and angry coming from people who claim to be speaking for God and our faith. After all these years I honestly don't know which debates I'm supposed to care about and which I'm not. Should I care that some believe in "substitutiary atonement" while others believe in "penal substitutiary atonement" and that one group believes the other group is "dangerously wrong" because of that difference?

When you get into calling someone a heretic or a "Son of Lucifer" because of their writing, you're getting kind of serious. And that kind of serious worries me enough to wonder if I've missed something. And I have no clue if what I'm missing is just more of the lovely brotherly love Christianity is infamous for or if it's really something I really need to be aware of.

Dangerous minds.

So did you know if you Google "Brian McLaren" and "Dangerous" that you will get 46,000+ pages to check out? Rusty and I were talking about this earlier this morning. Our conversation got so in depth that we missed church altogether while we went over some of the 46,100 possible choices on reading about the danger of listening to or reading "Cult leader Brian McLaren" or "Emergent guru Brian McLaren." I had some idea he was becoming wildly unpopular in certain church circles. Rusty was floored, he had no clue (and imagine his surprise when he found out he'd stolen the name tag of a "cult leader" one Sunday and proudly worn it for all the world to see. Brian was amused at the time though now I'm thinking I'd rather he not wear his own name tag anymore for his own safety.)

It's interesting. Some of what I've read about Brian makes me say, "Yeah, so?" I mean, there are some awfully petty criticisms out there. Maybe it's from having sat in his congregation for a few years, both at the earlier stages at Paint Branch High School and then again later when Brian was becoming more well known when we moved back to Maryland and met at the farm. We never once heard him say anything that made us say, "Hey, wait a minute. He's wrong!" We never had that feeling, those alarm bells that made us wonder if Brian was smoking something. And I have a hard time believing he would preach something to the good people of Cedar Ridge on Sunday morning then go write a book that totally condradicts it. I'll confess, I've read Adventures in Missing the Point and A Generous Orthodoxy. And maybe it is because we have some personal knowledge of him and the kind of guy he is that I can read it and say some of it is so good to read and so much to think on and some of it is over my head both spiritually and philisophically so I give him the benefit of the doubt and think he means the best rather than the worst possible interpretation.

So after reading literally hundreds of blog posts on "Emergent" vs. "Emerging Church" vs. Mark Driscoll vs. Brian McLaren and his gang of "heretics" this is really all I have to say, as a lay person with twelve years of Christian school and four or so years of all-out rebellion towards God: Who the f@#$ cares? I mean, honestly, when it comes down to it, I don't care what the crap you call me. "Red Letter Christian"? Oh do not get me started on the Christianity Today article implying that my faith is of lesser quality because I happen to believe abortion and homosexuality are not the only two Christian issues affecting America today (this is a mini-tangent/rant, so just deal for a minute.) For some reason, my spiritual integrity boils down to this as far as Stan Guthry over at Christianity Today is concerned:

Remember the Sojourners ad released shortly before the 2004 election, "God Is Not a Republican. Or a Democrat"? But under the line, "We are not single-issue voters," it lists a series of black-and-white questions seemingly pulled directly from John Kerry's briefing book.

They range from poverty ("Do the candidates' budget and tax policies reward the rich or show compassion for poor families?") to the environment ("Do the candidates' policies protect the creation or serve corporate interests that damage it?").

I mean obviously I'm a raging liberal by asking those questions. Anyway, just a sidenote. But another good example of one group taking down another while not even making sense in the process (I'm still not sure how I'm supposed to feel bad about myself as a Believer for asking those questions, Stan.)

In the end, what someone wants to call Brian has no bearing on me, other than making me feel bad for him and his family and friends. All very good and very nice people. But in the end I don't care what I'm called or what group I end up being lumped with because day to day as I encounter people I won't ask myself, "Am I 'Emergent' or part of an 'Emerging church' or a 'Red Letter Christian' or whatever the latest group or thing to be is and depending on all that, how do I respond to this person in need?" No. No, I will say what I always try to say (sometimes I fail miserably.) I will try to say, "God loves me unconditionally. And I, as a person, quite often suck. So how can I show this person that God loves them unconditionally as well? Regardless of whether or not they suck. And it's not my job to determine whether they suck. It's my job to love them and let God sort the rest out."

See. This kind of we-say, they-say, you're wrong, no you're wrong arguing among the "faithful" is what makes me spaz about church in general. Freaks. And not the good kind (maybe for my next post I'll tell you about the "Once saved, always saved" arguements from bible class in high school for some real brotherly-love fun.)

More mix-tape love.

I now present, for your viewing pleasure, INXS. Never Tear Us Apart.

Prague, in all it's European-y-ness. And Michael Hutchins. And the line, ""I told you that we could fly 'cause we all have wings but some of us don't know why" which seemed so profound and is still actually pretty good after all these years.



ACHTUNG (Baby): Please note that I am the same person owning one iPod in which Kenny Rogers and Green Day, The Beastie Boys and Yo Yo Ma live side by side in peace and harmony. So don't be weirded out when RUN DMC shows up to bust a move with Sting and INXS. Because they were part of the original tape. Word to your mother*

*Yeah... I'm diverse and all. But I never invited Vanilla Ice to the mix video tape.

Random unconditional love.

I'm sure no no one that knows me is surprised by my blogging schizo tendancies. One minute I'm weeping about my freakish inability to blend in with the non-heathens and the next I'm getting all hot and melty over Sting. Good times (get used to it.)

Anyway, there are moments when this blog is just thinking out loud (or throwing tantrums, as the case may be.) Tonight I was replaying what we talked about at small group last night - unconditional love. And it was the first time I've really come out and talked about the effect of meeting Rusty had on me and how his love and the love of the people I came to be so close to really were a mirror of God's love for me. Our small group in Maryland was something I will always consider one of the most perfect groups of friends I've ever had. Wood, Ashley, Deeds, Ramsey, Sherry, Bruce and Karen (and sometimes Pete) are amazing people and during our trip back this past August, sitting in Deedie and Ramsey's back yard and just being with these people that I love, and that love me and my family... it's really not something I can put into words. And I honestly didn't think we'd find that connection again. Rusty, Alwood and Deedie went to high school together and I inherited them as my own friends. To have an "old friend" who marries someone as great as Ashley was a bonus for Rusty and later on to me when we got married (our first "real date" was to their wedding. I'm honored.) When we met Bruce and Sherry I was in awe for weeks. Sherry is one of those people who makes you think differently about everything. She sees and hears the beauty in the world that most people miss. Then she takes it and hands it to you in a way you totally "get." Her crayon anology is the reason for that grungy yellow crayon you may see pinned to my workroom wall if you ever come over and make a mess with me.

Anyway, such a great complimentary group of people and one I miss so much it makes me cry a little bit from time to time. These friends were with me at different times during a period when I was really becoming who God had created me to be and when I was finally feeling comfortable being that person. So imagine my surprise when last night at small group I felt myself opening up and adding to a conversation I wouldn't have thought I'd jump into outside of that circle of old friends. Instead, I was inside a circle of new friends. Same unconditional love, different people handing it out. We've been welcomed into our church in so many ways at so many different times. And I feel twice blessed now to have experienced such great friends in two entirely different places. Little by little I'm letting go of my church-o-phobia I think.

I'm off to find that INXS video I loved in 7th grade...

Mix-tape alternative.

So when I was in jr. high I decided I needed to put all of my favorite music videos onto one video tape [fee free to add a "back when MTV played videos" joke here] My friends and I would watch this tape during overnights and I believe some videos were even reenacted in their entirety during the legendary slumber party of '84.

I'm on a YouTube mission to find those videos. I'm interested in seeing how successful I am (and in seeing how many I can remember.)

For your viewing pleasure... Sting. And if you can get past the dance/body twitching at the beginning? Then right around 1:55-2:00 minute mark you'll see why he was the object of my affection. Holy crap, people.

Honesty is lame.

Ok, so that title made me laugh and probably is a bit over the top. But I wouldn't be me if i didn't blow something out of preportion once in a while, no?

So let me be honest. Church freaks me out. Not our church specifically (I like our church) but church in general. The institution of church itself. When I'm around people in a church setting or involved in a church activity a lot of times I tend to second-guess myself or my opinions more than I would otherwise. And not in a good "accountability" kind of way. More of a "I'm a freak and could therefore have nothing valid to add to this conversation/activity" kind of way. Holy crap, honesty is even more fun than I thought! [insert sarcasm there, please]

My mom and I have talked about my issues with church and more specifically my school experience. I think she's right in that I used to blame the school or the fact that it was a Christian school when I first starting addressing this back when I finally got my act together during college. I've gotten to the point that I understand that it wasn't that I went to a Christian school or to a certain kind of church that messed up my thinking about it. It was interacting with specific people in specific sitations while in those settings that did it. Just like a lot of people would say, "High school sucked", I tend to put my experience and feelings into a broader context because the lines between church and school were so blurred. I went to school with a lot of the same people I saw at church and youth group. So instead of "high school sucked" I would be more likely to say, "high school and church sucked" because they were one and the same in a lot of cases.

We changed churches a few times and eventually ended up at a large, wealthy church - the one that sat next door to the school. The one attended by many of the kids from school. I had kids in my graduating class/youth group whose parents owned car dealerships so they drove brand new cars, whose parents worked for the NFL and they left school every January to spend a week in Hawaii for the Pro-Bowl, kids whose lives were way different than those of us whose parents sacraficed financially to send us to that school. Think of the issues in such 80's movie classics as Some Kind of Wonderful or Molly Ringwald's character in Breakfast Club then throw in the aspect of spirituality and God and it takes it to a whole new level. Suddenly it's worse. Now you're dealing with the social stupidity of high school with a dose of "Am I saved? Am I going to hell?" thrown in. I'm not kidding you when I say I went to every altar call at chapel every week because I was miserable and figured it was my own fault because I wasn't Christian enough.

So like I said, I really like our church. But I have been surprised to find myself wondering if I've offended someone or keeping quiet during a discussion because I'm not sure my input is appropriate or out of line with the way I "should" be thinking. And though I dont' mind admitting it (like I did at the beginning of this post) I do find the whole thing weird. Because I don't tend to do that in any other situation. I don't have a problem saying I feel like a competent adult, artist and even mom for the most part. I feel like my relationship with God has matured and I know what's important now and what's not. But put me in a "church situation" and some of that collapses. And that annoys me because I have gotten past the high school stuff just like anyone else does when they grow up. But the church part is still lingering for some reason. Nothing about me changes when I walk through the doors at Journey. And absolutely no one there has made me feel that way. Same with CRCC back in Maryland. So apparently it's me. And I know that and am actually fine with admitting it. I just want to get to the point where I'm the same person regardless of who I'm talking to or where I am. If anyone at church ends up thinking I'm a nut then... I guess good for them that they figure it out sooner than later.

Disney video #1

Scene: Disney's Animal Kingdom

The African drummers were great (though slightly cheesing for the camera) and about two-thirds of the way through I catch Sean in all his wiggling glory. He's a slave to the rhythm, people.

Did I mention?

Yeah. Rusty and I are going to run like hell through Walnut Hills cemetary Friday night, October 26. You should come join us! Click here: http://www.cincyrunlikehell.com/

P.S. "Able to be worn while running" costume ideas appreciated! So far I'm liking the idea of one of us dressing like "Lucky" the leprechaun and the other of us dressed like a kid carrying a cereal bowl and spoon ("They're after me 'Lucky Charms'!")

Catching up.

Thank you for the encouragement regarding how I was feeling on that last post. Things are going much better right now. We did not go the medication route for Liam and we're really happy we didn't. No matter what his issues, he's a great kid and God knows what he's doing.

I'm hoping to get some Disney photos up here soon.

Fallen world.

I have heard that term so many times. We live in a "fallen world." Death and sickness and heart-break because of sin. I know. I get it. But all the times I've heard it and thought it, it was about someone else. Someone else's child or spouse or situation. This time it's mine. My son. My son with the genius IQ who can't effectively communicate how he feels about some of the simplest things without falling apart. The one who has tics and repetative moments because the stress pushes him over the edge to the point that it's the only way he can feel in control.

Liam's diagnosis two years ago was language processing delays with an anxiety disorder along with "ongoing risk for obsessive compulsive disorder." That risk is now being realized and I've had to come to terms with the fact that his behavior isn't a product of his inability to communicate like other eight year olds. His language processing issues are separate from his anxiety/OCD issues. He has two very distinct things to deal with.

I'm so angry. So so angry at this. I feel like I want to hit something or scream or do what I've been doing off and on the last day and a half - cry. It's not fair. He's starting to realize he's different. He knows when to hide things from other kids so they won't make fun of him, and the stress of bottling it up makes it worse. Two days ago in a fit of excitement he rattled off a sentence to me that made not one bit of sense; a litany of words totally unrelated to what he was trying to tell me and words totally unrelated to each other. It was something like, "Ball kitchen red boy go." He recovered quickly and said, "Oh, I mean..." but it was out there. And though it doesn't happen often, it has happened more than once before.

I feel like this latest assessment has sent me over the edge as far as hope for his future. I think he can be successful - with his IQ he can do pretty much anything he wants as long as he can keep the anxiety at bay while at school and, in the future, his workplace. But I worry about the future of his social life. His ability to be able to really know people. Our ability to finally feel like we really know him. I wonder if I'll ever really know him. And that kills me.

Word of the Day.

My whipped ice dairy drink brings the attention of many males to my place of residence and/ or employment, and they declare that its quality far surpasses that of yours. Absolutely, it far surpasses yours. I could convey to you the recipe, but i would have to demand compensation. - Urban Dictionary Word of the Day September 14, 2007

Ok, that made me laugh. Because I love Ben Stiller and his milkshake is completely disturbing:



Happy Friday.

Thank you.

Suddenly there was a great burst of light through the Darkness. The light spread out and where it touched the Darkness the Darkness disappeared. The light spread until the patch of Dark Thing had vanished, and there was only a gentle shining, and through the shining came the stars, clear and pure. Then, slowly, the shining dwindled until it, too, was gone, and there was nothing but stars and starlight. No shadows. No fear. Only the stars and the clear darkness of space, quite different from the fearful darkness of the Thing. - A Wrinkle In Time


Madeleine L'Engle
November 29, 1918 – September 6, 2007

Movies I'm looking forward to.

What day is this? Wednesday? Ok, then. We'll call this the new "Wednesday movie feature of some sort for which I will come up with a catchy name but for now it'll have to do" (or "WMFOSSFWIWCUWACNBFNIHTD" for short.)

There are quite a few movies that totally get past us and we didn't realize they were ever released until we see them when we're building our Netflix que. So here are a few trailers for movies* I'm looking forward to seeing at some point:

First, Dan in Real Life:



Also, Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium:



And, can I just say for the record that I adore Dustin Hoffman, Jason Bateman and Natalie Portman. I am very interested in seeing them all in the same movie. And I have a serious girl crush on Natalie Portman. That's all, move along.

Last for today, Feast of Love. I really like Greg Kinear and this looks good ("You can't have the dog back. He's bonded with us"... HA!):



*I originally saw these trailers on the Apple site in high def so if you are able you should definitely check out the higher quality versions of these, especially the "Mr. Magorium's" trailer. So pretty.

Civilized Taunting 101.

Liam (out of the blue): Sean, you're just a figurehead.

Sean (all insulted): Dad, Liam just called me a figurehead! I'm not a figurehead!

Rusty: Just call Liam a "Filibuster" then you'll be even.

Me: Thanks so much for keeping it civil and not telling him to bust out a response about Liam's puppet régime.

More burning of the metal.

*Edited to add this comment from my mom: "The photo doesn't do this justice, especially the wings!" (thanks, Mom!) And I agree, the photo is horrible. The silver is shinier in real life and the wings are definitely more cool in person too. Also? This is not something to be worn! It's just to hang in a window or on the wall (probably should have mentioned that before!)

So I am all about the soldering this week. I made this using a special photo, 2" glass pieces, some vintage glass beads and some brass angel wings soldered over and texturized (is that a word?) I've been waiting to use the gold crown charm forever and it was totally perfect for the size of the piece.


P.S. Sorry about the photo - it's hanging from the chandelier in my workroom and the lighting is kind of wonky. But now I'm in love with the possibilities of what I can do with glass and solder and anything metal I can stick on to them!

Soldering is fun.

* For the time being, any post that includes artwork will be cross-posted to the Faith & Art blog as well.

So I have been obsessed with soldering lately. Actually, I've been obsessed with figuring out how to solder correctly. Apparently you need a soldering iron that actually gets hot enough (seriously?) I ordered some one inch square glass pieces online and they are a great thickness (2 mm) and give a lot more weight to the pendant.



These two photos are the same pendant, front and back. Notice the lumpy soldering job (I'll call it an artistic decision and pretend it's supposed to be lumpy. We'll call it "texture", thanks.) One side is cut from the queen of hearts card from a very old deck of bicycle cards and the "S" on the other side is from a vintage dominos advertisement. It think the vintage ad sheet came from Marco's? Or maybe The Queen's Ink. Not sure.



I've been wanting to try this because I have all kinds of ideas for it - I'm going to make Christmas ornaments using vintage Christmas postal stamps and papers, I want to try making a suncatcher with a photograph printed on transparency in between the glass and I want to see what other fun stuff I can come up with. I'll make sure to keep posting the results!

Tadpole update.

*Updated Sunday afternoon

Well, apparently we have two American Bullfrog tadpoles (identifiable by their "dorsal fin" style appendage from the body to the tip of the tail, their dark green color and their honking huge size.) They will be tadpoles for up to two years before becoming frogs. And? Once they're frogs? They'll be even more ginormous. Here is a photo I found online:


These polliwogs are going back into the Little Miami where they came from. Because if we take them somewhere that doesn't currently have a American Bullfrog population? They will mature then wipe out many of the native species that currently reside there.

P.S. Mature bullfrogs eat anything that fits into their mouth - that includes baby ducklings, small mammals and anything else that gets close enough. I think I need to go throw up now. I am not taking care of a pet that requires dead mammals to survive. We did that once (ask me about the mice pops sometime.)

Inspiration.

*This is a X-post with the Faith & Art Blog

So these are some photos I meant to post earlier. They're samples from the Stamper's Anonymous booth at this year's Stampaway.



Some of these are cards.




Some of them are covers to art or travel journals.




All of them are three dimensional (and are in plastic covers which is why there is a weird glare on them in some shots.)




This is only one of the booths that just about made me swoon at Stampaway. The inspiration was overwhelming and the ideas and samples were beautiful.



I'm planning on making some more handmade/hand-bound books this fall. I'd love to add some of these three-dimensional elements to them along the spine and on the covers and even some inside cut out or niches in the book itself (so you'd have to write around a hole housing a little bead or charm.) I love the weight the three dimensional objects give the pieces overall - they go from flat cards to mini works of art that could easily be framed and hung on a wall.

I need to go clean up my workroom. And find my soldering iron.

House guests.

We have some visitors from Loveland staying over. I say "visitors" because they're already skeeving me out. They were gifted to us during a picnic at Nisbet Park yesterday and of course, the kids couldn't turn down a free pet. But as pets go, these things are pretty sub-par. They're either totally still or freaking out. Last night they got a tad rowdy and I had to put the lid on the top to stop the splashing about. And they're totally not huggable (to quote my sister, "they feel like little water balloons filled with squish.") These two are a great arguement for something furry.

Anyway, we weren't sure they'd make it through the night (Rusty said if they died we should just tell the boys they "ran away." HA!) But they made it. So for the time being*, please say hello to Jean-Claude and Phillipe.


"Jean-Claude" and "Phillipe", you ask? Because they're round and green. Of course.


*"For the time being" because these are the biggest tadpoles I've ever seen. They're like green ping-pong balls with hind legs. And by the time they grow into frogs? These things will be large and noisy. And too big to live in peace and harmony together in one little tank. They're pushing the peace and harmony now as it is (I think Jean-Claude bit Phillipe's tail.)(And he is now being referred to as Jean-Claude Van Frog. Because he's big and beefy and apparently kicks tadpole tail.)

Running and yelling. Good times.

breathe into me and make me real
bring me to life
wake me up inside
wake me up inside
call my name and save me from the dark

So I wrote that post this morning and admitted I started my day in a really crappy mood. But it lingered and even after church (which was great and I love our church) I was still exhausted from our late night and my early morning wake up call from Sean. I actually took a nap this afternoon but even after getting some rest I couldn't shake my mood. Since my last run was Wednesday night I strapped on the shuffle and locked myself in the basement until I had taken all of my crankiness out on the treadmill. I think I can finally be allowed back into the general population without fear of me biting your head off for some totally random and seemingly harmless comment.

I've posted about it before but Bring me to life by Evanescence is a really powerful worship song for me. It's my go-to song when I'm feeling myself slipping into a mood like this and feel like I can't shake it. I'm pretty sure the yelling helps (yelling on the iPod. Not me literally. Because if I tried to yell and run at the same time I'd pass out. I mean, I've been running again for a little while now but I'm not at "able to run and yell" level yet. I'll have to get on that.)

I'm better now.

*Here are the full lyrics from the last time I posted about this song if you want to read through them: http://byhisdesign.blogspot.com/2005/05/non-christian-music-part-ii.html

Sunday morning confession.

It's 6:30 am and Sean just came in to our room, told me he was scared about something and jumped into bed with us. It doesn't happen often so the snuggle time was nice. Until he went back to sleep, started snoring and my arm went tingly then numb.

I extracted myself and came down to the kitchen where I'm now sitting and brooding over the fact that I have no coffee to make at the moment. I just woke up cranky. Probably because I went to bed cranky. I hate being cranky! Especially when I know what's causing it and feel like I can't do anything to fix the cause. Meh. Boo, cranky.

The cause? Liam had a hideous afternoon and evening yesterday. On the one hand, I feel like I should know better and should not be surprised by the multiple crying fits and screaming I heard throughout the evening. We should be used to it. It's what he does and it's why we moved and why we are now where we are. But? This summer has been great with him. And he hasn't had very many meltdowns since school got out. And it's been wonderful. I've had so much fun watching him have fun this summer. He's been relaxed and happy and that is a huge blessing.

So last night was kind of a shock, like throwing cold water in my face and telling me to wake up it's time for reality to kick back in. He was just whiney at first but that progressed into yelling at people which turned into flat out crying with some screaming thrown in for good measure. Oh, and I forgot to mention the second half of the afternoon was spent at my high school's annual alumni soccer game so there were people I was hoping to catch up with but instead found myself so preoccupied that I barely got out more than one or two word answers to any friendly questions I was asked.

And that's where the confession comes in. I was irritated with Liam. I was upset because in my head this was supposed to be my turn to sit and talk and enjoy myself and I was irritated that I felt like I had to keep track of Liam from time to time instead. Most of the other kids were playing together without any problem - and to his credit, Liam did too for a little while. But I'd hear that yelling going on and have to run back and pull him aside until he could calm himself down. Then this wave of "I'm tired of this" and "I'm not ready for this to start again when school starts" hit me and my night went downhill from there. And it's totally my own fault. I know why we've moved back and I know we've had to have meetings with schools and teachers and I've been at the hospital with him when he had his stress migraine thing. I know all this and it's not his fault and yet I still let it get to me. And I let myself be upset with him which isn't fair.

I know I had three conversations last night where I either didn't give the person my full attention or had to outright interrupt the other person to excuse myself to go figure out what had happened to cause a specific meltdown. It was embarrassing to me though those people probably didn't see it as such a big deal. But by the end of the night I felt like I needed to give Liam a break so we dropped him off with my mom to spend the night then head out to the farm with Grandpa today. Farm time with Grandpa is pretty stress-free and low-key.

So now it's 8:40 and I need a shower and to get ready for church. I just talked to my mom and cried a little bit to her. And her years of mom experience were what I needed to hear and she made me feel better then put Liam on the phone while he waited for Grandpa to get a move on so they can go already, Grandpa!

Liam's fine, I'm fine and I'm happy we're going to church this morning so I can throw all of this at God and tell Him to hold onto it because I cannot deal with my own stupidity and Liam's stress at the same time.

Chocolate Remix.

So, Jodi, here is it. I'm not a huge John Mayer fan. I like much of his music, I just can't watch the guy sing (looks like he's having tongue seizures.)

(Can you have tongue seizures?)

But he won me over with this. He had me at "smells a little bit like poopy, poopy" and waving his hand under his nose.



If you've never heard of Chocolate Rain? All I can say is consider yourself blessed and don't pursue it. If you feel the need to check it out don't say I didn't warn you. And no, it doesn't have to do with poop. It doesn't really have to do with anything when you get right down to it.

Monday night randomosity.

Listening to one of the Scrubs soundtracks and editing photos from the last six months. And totally having the urge to rummage through all of my old crap to see if there is anything I can use to make funky jewelry. Not sure what started that... ok, yeah, I do know.

Our friend, Sandy, wife to Rusty's best friend and object of my envy because she lives on the Eastern Shore and can go down to the beach and collect beach glass whenever she feels like it. Sandy has had her two boys helping her collect beach glass for a while now and is tiling one wall of their first floor powder room with it. It's completely gorgeous so far and I love the idea of using (re-using, I guess) something like that. The color of the glass is so subtle and beautiful with the paint color they used. And to be using a material that your kids help you collect just makes it that much better. I'm in love with this idea and jealous that I can't do it. And I never thought of it.

Ok, so in all honesty, "beach glass" from the Ohio River? Not so attractive I'm thinking. Maybe some random bits of Skyline take-away cartons and some wet White Castle boxes? Now that's a bathroom! (I hope Rusty never reads this one because I am so not papering the bathroom with Skyline and White Castle. Though... ok, nevermind. Not moving another word closer to that line of thinking.)

Anyway, back to the actual beach glass and pale blues and greens and memories of the bay and sand... Sandy also had a great necklace - just a piece of well worn pale blue/green beach glass that was actually the broken off piece of a neck of a very small bottle. She strung some cord through it and was wearing it when we were over. The combination of the texture and color and "foundness" of it all overwhelmed me and I've been enthralled with the idea of making jewelry from my own found objects ever since.

I've been seeing these Trollbead things lately and though they're gorgeous, I can't afford a $500, $600, $700 and beyond bracelet. I can't justify that. But I'm just as happy using something else that means something to me so it's all good. I'll look around. And Stampaway is coming up so that's more inspiration (I think I just drooled on my keyboard a little.)

I'm finding as I get older that I care less about the "cool new thing" and seem to be more drawn to old stuff I find, the stuff that has a memory falling away from it as I pick it up from the box where it's been sitting for years. Last week I found my old jewelry box in the garage in a bin packed from the move. In it were a tenth grade Christmas present from my first real boyfriend (one of the good ones) and a little clay charm one of my YoungLife girls made for me at the craft table at Lake Champion one year. Both of those things made me smile the moment I saw them. Madeleine L'Engle calls them icons and really, they are icons in the sense that many earlier Christians thought of them. They're things that bring to mind more important feelings and emotions. Things I would love to randomly remember throughout the day. So I'm on the lookout for things that fall into that catagory and we'll see what happens. I'll report back with photos if anything fun comes of it.

*Fun sidenote: "Hollywood Family" neighbors? Their son auditioned for a role on Scrubs this past spring. If he gets it, he would play a young J.D. in a sequence where J.D. has a conversation with his unborn child (you know, by Dr. Super-Garden-Tool who told him she had a miscarriage?) Anyway, we're totally geeked out by the fact that our neighbor's seven-year old hung around the set for a few days. If it had been me I'd have had to fight the urge to ask Dr. Cox if he still loves Michael Bolton ("No talent ass clown") and keep myself from revealing my girl crush on Carla. And from stealing Rowdy. But that's another post altogether.

Regarding the videos.

Not sure what's up with YouTube but the videos are playing ok for us here. The setting was "Private" so I changed it and am also adding the URLs here to click and watch on the YouTube site itself if you want. Not sure it's worth it but hey, feel free.

Click here for the beach slide show

Click here for the short beach video clip

Click here for the GE Reds Day slideshow

Ok. That's all... until I play with more photos.

Another Video. Because I can.

Yep, someone figured out iPhoto, iMovie, GarageBand and YouTube all within the same ten minutes. Enjoy this filler post until something better comes along.

Beach Video Clip.

Very short video clip from the beach last Monday. Enjoy. And turn up the volume because Sean's giggling is way cute.

Ocean City, 2007

Some random photos from our trip to Ocean City, Maryland this past week. It was Liam, Sean, Rusty's mom and I (that's Rusty's mom in the tie-dye.) The waves were huge and the current was pretty strong so the boys stayed close to shore and jumped in the waves rather than "swimming."

The sex talk.

"Let's talk about sex, bay-bee. Let's talk about you and me. Let's talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be. Let's talk abooooout sex." - Salt N' Peppa

WARNING: IN CASE IT HASN'T ALREADY OCCURRED TO YOU, WE'RE TALKING ABOUT SOME SEX HERE. PLEASE BE ADVISED.

Today, I'm writing from Maryland. From my mother-in-law's living room, actually. The boys and I drove out Thursday. Since I was going to be doing all eight or nine hours of driving while the boys watched movies in the back (using earphones) I decided to upload the church podcasts of the services we'd missed over the last three or four months. As we headed toward Columbus up I-7, I powered up the iPod. The first podcast episode on the list - a talk on sex.

It starts with Tom (the pastor) apparently walking up front while Justin Timberlake's Bringing Sexy Back plays. Then he starts the talk by saying "Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, sex, SEX!" just to get it out there. He divided the talk into one part geared toward parents with older kids, one toward single people, and one toward married people. The married person part was easy to take. But the one aimed at single people was hard for me to hear. Even though it's been ten years since I was a non-married person, there are things from the talk that made it hard for me to keep from turning the podcast off altogether.

As anyone who's ever been in a youth group can tell you, virginity is a church teenager's prized possession. Which I actually agree with. But for someone raised to believe that then to have it pretty much stomped all over, it's hard to recover. So, wait... what am I saying? Did I just basically come out and say I had no choice in the matter? Well, actually, I did just say that.

When I was a senior in high school I had been dating a guy for about six months. Seemed to be a nice guy, my family liked him and he was cute. Then one night in our family room, with my parents sleeping upstairs, a normal kissing session turned into something else even after I said, "No, don't" quite a few times. I remember walking up to my bedroom later in pain and confused about what had just happened. I didn't wake my parents to tell them because I wasn't exactly sure what I was telling them.

When you hear about these kinds of things they seem so huge and life changing (and they are) but when they're actually occurring, that minute right before is exactly like that minute right after in that the clock is still ticking, the TV show is still moving along, and no one on earth has been jolted from their sleep in the knowledge that something horrible has happened. Life just goes on. And it's a really stark contrast to how you're feeling on the inside.

The next day I had to work (at Kings Island, where the boyfriend worked also) and I remember I didn't see my mom and dad that morning for whatever reason. I went in to work a few minutes early to confront the boyfriend because I was very seriously pissed off. And when I found him and said something (while fighting back the urge to smack him and cry at the same time) he just looked at me and said, "It takes two to tango." That was it. And I? Was horrified.

Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn't say, "No" loud enough or forcefully enough? Maybe I just felt bad afterwards? So instead of telling my parents I tried to hide it from everyone I knew. And please, understand that this was never a "they won't believe me" kind of thing. I thought, at that point, that there was nothing to "believe" and I had just given away my most prized possession and was going to hell (or a least an unhappy, messed up marriage sometime in my future.) As bad as that was? It gets worse.

I stayed with the boyfriend. For almost a year. But I knew I didn't like this guy anymore (shocker.) I was just afraid to break-up and end up finding another boyfriend at some point and not know what to tell them if the topic came up. Which of course, it always did. Sex always comes up with college guys. Sometimes it gets talked about in a good way. I know there are decent college guys who can talk about in the context of "it's ok, we'll wait." But I didn't find them.

I found two more who assumed that since I was no longer a virgin that it didn't matter at that point. And I stupidly agreed. It was completely my decision but part of that decision was based on the fact that I was in uncharted territory. I knew virginity was important. But youth group people never talked about what to do if that was altered. What little bit of self-esteem I had was totally gone because I honestly believed that my worth as a Christian was in the toilet because I'd broken one of the cardinal rules.

So, why did I just type all that? Why go into it again? Well, for one reason because last time I "got into it" I just left it half-dealt with. A few months before Rusty and I got married, I started having a hard time with a family situation. I started going to therapy before the wedding. And this incident with the boyfriend came up. The therapist asked why I couldn't say the word "rape." Was it because I believed it was easier to say it was partly my fault? Because then it just becomes a "bad decision" on my part and I could pretend I had some control over what happened.

Looking back since I finally came to God and fell in a big heap, I know the therapist was right. By not facing it for what it was back then I traded in my self-worth and was miserable for the next four years or so. And I realized I made my parents and family and some of my friends miserable while I was at it.

So now I think you might  be wondering how it's possible that I'm not totally f-ed up regarding being married and sex after all that. Honestly? I don't entirely know though I have some ideas. First of all, what happened was hard emotionally for me. But not as bad as the guilt I felt when I started to believe it was my fault. When it was "my fault" it made it feel as though I'd made a choice against God and that was unthinkable to me. I didn't have the greatest image of God when I was a teenager and really thought it was all about the rules and doing stuff right. And forgiveness was just something you said and not the grace and redemption that I understand now.

The God and "doing something wrong" thing was an issue for me, and my misunderstanding of it all drove me farther and farther from my faith. Coming to Christ and being able to finally say, "Ok, this wasn't my fault" have done wonders for me being able to get on with my life.

Do I wish I'd have done something to this boyfriend to hold him accountable? Of course I do. Do I want some sort of justice now? No. I feel like I've been able to get to a good place and would rather never have to deal with this person ever again. I'm really truly happy with the life I have now and where I am in relation to my faith and relationship with God.

And I hope I can finally sit through a sex talk and not feel a twinge of uneasiness or panic.

Happy Girl.

Yeah, ok, so I've been so very inconsistant with the writing this summer. Seriously, if you think this blog is neglected you should see the condition of my house.

I wish I could say it's been something very important that's kept me from taking the time to update. I mean, it is something important but the reality of that is it's just life at the moment. Summer and Kings Island and swimming and watching our boys enjoy themselves and relaxing and going to see movies and being happy. Every time I see my sister and her nephew I am overwhelmed with the knowledge that even though the world seems to be losing it's collective mind there are still people willing to deviate from their carefully planned lives to spend their time and money loving someone who needs to be loved. Watching this unfold is also making me happy. I know the little things like being at the pool with the boys? Makes me happier than is probably reasonable. But overall we've not had a normal summer in four years. We've spent our summers moving halfway cross country, taking care of a niece in trouble, renovating a house and moving back halfway across country again. It's nice to be able to enjoy the summer break.

That's not to say that I don't understand that there are still people we love and care about dealing with stress - and sometimes I end up in tears as I pray for my family and friends and what they go through, or wondering if anything we've done the last four years really matters. But I feel like I can finally be more objective and see that there's always some aspect of "good" and "right" in what's gone on no matter how stressful it seemed at the time.

We're leaving for Maryland on the 19th and I'm so excited to see Deedie and Ashley and Wood and hopefully Betsy (Hi, Betsy!) and Erik and so many others I miss every day we're not there. The friends we left behind are honestly some of the most important people in my life and I often find myself wondering why God blessed me with these people. What did I do to deserve to be friends with Deedie "She who is fabulous" Stuart? I just got lucky and I'm totally fine with that.

For the Audio.

Because the video kind of stinks (at least through the first half or so.) The last twenty seconds of guitar at the end are especially beautiful.



Colin Hay
My Brilliant Feat

Random Comment of the Day.

Adam Dunn is much more suited to playing rec-league softball, really. Cranks the homers and plays lazy out-field. He reminds me of half the guys you'd see at Kolping on any random summer evening. Just my opinion.

Endangered Species.

Wow. Ok, well, first... I went to the bachelorette party. It was tame by most people's standards and there was only one conversation about "remember when" and it was somewhat painful but relatively quick.

In other news, Rusty is dealing with some pretty crappy emotional stuff from a few of his friends. Within a one day period he found out one friend had informed his wife that he had been having an affair and "was done" with the marriage. This was hard for Rusty and a few of their other friends because he knows the guy involved and also the guy's brother. Then the next day, a friend from work told Rusty that he and his wife were getting a divorce and he'd also been having an affair. Rusty came home kind of shell-shocked at that point. It's hard to not put yourself in their place when these guys are about the same age as us and have been married similar amounts of time as we have. There are also kids involved in both marriages. Rusty's been really good about being honest with the friend from work when the guy asks his opinion and he's been good to not take sides since he doesn't know the wife and is only hearing one side of the story. But these are also his friends and I can tell he's dissappointed.

A few days later, another friend talked about the problems he and his wife are having but in this case the guy is doing everything he can to do the right thing, be compassionate and take care of things in an honorable way. I'm just afraid that because we are all imperfect human beings, no matter what this guy does he can't control his wife's actions. That worries me and I'm trying to keep them in my prayers without letting my feelings take over.

And last but not least... our neighbor. Some of you are familiar with the ongoing saga of "Hollywood Mom" who up and quit her job, took two of her three kids to Hollywood and left the other one here with her husband? Yeah, well, the one who was left here was sent out to Cali to join Mom and the others. And they're not coming back. Nice. Dad is still here, talks about missing his family. And has a new girlfriend. Again... what the crap?!

Rusty and I have been through a lot together. Some of it has been pretty bad. But each time either of us had to make a conscious decision about whether we were giving up or staying with it. Neither of us is perfect by any means. So how come we're ok but so many others aren't? Is it just easier to give up? I don't know how that's the case when you have kids and a life together that you have to rip apart and try to rebuild somewhere else with someone new.

We have a friend who has an history as a recovering drug addict. You'd never know it from meeting him. He loves his family and is a good guy. But as some point he had to make the decision to #1, get clean and #2, decide his family was important and be there. I haven't told him this but I am so very impressed with that. My own "biological father" was a drug addict by the time my parents divorced and he disappeared off the face of the earth for a while. Then he came back to the area when I was in high school, got somewhat clean (may be debatable) and his family welcomed him with open arms. Which, ok, if Liam or Sean went that route then wanted to do the right thing and get sober again, of course I'd welcome them back. BUT... ("Let's talk about your big but, Simone" - Ha!) But, after "Bio Dad" got clean? That was it. He never took it a step farther and tried to repair the damage he did to his relationship with my brother or I. And his family? Just told us how wonderful he was and how great his new family was and that he was ignoring us for our "own good... because he cares so much about us." Uh huh. Kids don't buy that. If you care, you act like you care. If you really care, it's hard to not be involved. I need to tell this friend how much I appreciate that he stuck with it and is the father in his family. His kids are really lucky (as am I because I got a pretty darn good dad as a replacement in my own situation!)

I bring that up because, like I mentioned, every one of the affair/divorce/diffulty situations going on for friends right now are relationships in which there are children involved. One person seems more focused on himself and his current situation, one wants to do the right thing but isn't sure how and frankly isn't doing the right thing as far as his kids and his "girlfriend" are concerned (moving out of his house and in with his girlfriend) and one is missing his family tremendously and is faced with having them gone for good so he's found a replacement for now. The kids stuck in the middle are going to be hurt the most. The wives are part of the couple. They are possibly totally innocent parties, but they're still adults and are for the most part already mature in who they are as people. The kids aren't. No matter what you tell them, they're perceiving things the way their own little kid brains are able to and no amount of talking with no action to follow it up is going to change that. My biggest fear in each of these situations is that the kids will be faced with choosing sides or not getting to maintain a good relationship with their dads, or even the case of the neighbor to even see their dad on a regular basis. I don't think a marriage should stay together because of the kids alone. But I do think people need to be more realistic about how they conduct themselves while going through the process. And they need to remember you can divorce a spouse you were never "related" to but you can't ignore the fact that you have little people with half of your DNA running around and they are still something you need to deal with! Good heavens, what a rant. People are really stupid sometimes, though. My brain hurts.