My life at the moment

I woke up today with a hatred for my surroundings. I know what caused it. Someone that I know has become very successful in his field. He's gone "Big Time". He does what he loves and works with people that you and I read about or see on TV. I knew him ten years ago and I feel like if I ran into him today I'd have nothing to say that would be of interest to him. I know that's retarded. Don't get upset, "retarded" has other meanings besides referring to mentally challenged people: "...A slowing down or hindering of progress; a delay." I know I've gotten to a place in my thinking and perspective on certain things and just stopped. How very retarded.

I know this is a wrong way to think. It totally cheapens every blessing God has given me. It says to Him, "this is good, but it's not good enough". And for that I am so so sorry. Consider this a public confession.

I know that God is good all the time. God instilled in me the desire to create. But the biggest thing? I know that God understands my need to feel fulfilled. But His timing is everything and I cannot rush it. I don't want to rush it and have to settle for something less. God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame (Elizabeth Barrett Browning). I believe this and in it I take refuge from my current feelings of "not enough".

Funny boy

I have the funniest six-year old ever. Case in point, a conversation from a few nights ago:

Me: Is your friend *******'s last name "Smith"?

Liam: SMITH??! Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha. That's a funny name.

Me: (looking slightly confused) It is?

Liam: Yeah. Smith... Smith... I think I'm going to start calling Sean "Smith".

Me: Yeah. Good luck with that.

Side note: Sean (three years old) doesn't appreciate being called "Smith".

I am not sick.

Not anymore, anyway. Now I'm just to stinkin busy to get online. Our kitchen cabinets are coming Friday and I'm scared. That's a big commitment, though I look forward to ripping out the butt ugly kitchen we currently have (For which we are not responsible).

Here is my last 48 hours in quick-read blog style:

Monday: Work on collage book 10 minutes. Watch "The Incredibles" (again) with Sean (because? He is obsessed). Move furniture, cover furniture, paint first coat in entire family room. Eat dinner. Go for a run. Watch half an hour on the history of waffles (Food Network, silly). Pass out in bed.

Tuesday (today): work on collage book 15 minutes (are you getting why this thing is taking forever?) lunch with husband and tiny-bladder-having three year old son. Three trips to restroom. Chipotle has clean restrooms. Yay, Chipotle. Quick trip to Ikea for lighting. Install first of three new lighting fixtures in family room after removing nasty, dirty, cracked and nasty old light fixtures that for some reason smell of cigar smoke. Eat dinner. Stand up after eating dinner only to realize that my body either hates me or died while I wasn't paying attention as my leg muscles have seized up and don't work. Note to self: first run after months off? Go slow, you twit.

Good times here, people. Good times!

I am sick.

Again. For the third time since Christmas, I have a sinus infection. I am on antibiotics. Again. I feel like dookie. Again. But unlike the first two times, this one has me put on probation. And if I'm not feeling better by Monday? I get a CAT scan to see what's up and we go from there. Woo hoo. Good times.

Please pray for me. I really don't feel well.

Thanks.

Snoop Dogg was here

Holy poop. I have been laughing like a loon at the Snooped-up version of my blog. I'm sure most of you are way cooler than I am and have already seen or heard about this. But apply Snoop Dogg-ese to a blog about church and God and it gets way more interesting to read (fo shizzle).

Go here: Ask Snoop then type my blog address into the box: http://www.byhisdesign.blogspot.com/ . The result? Hours of fun. Is this fascination with Snoop just because I'm a repressed white girl? Or is it because the Snoopified version of what I've posted lately actually sounds more like I feel? Things to make you say "Hmmmm...".

Who are you people

and why don't you leave me comments? The ticker claims you're coming around, but I'm not feelin' the love, yo.

Thank you. That concludes this episode of me trying to sound like my husband's friend, Spanky.