Speaking of pop culture

Does anyone else watch Desperate Housewives? Funny funny stuff. I'm asking because I've become obsessed with a random item on the show. One of the characters on the show has the greatest stained glass piece in her house. It's the freak lady who's sister got killed because she was blackmailing Mary-Alice.

At the freak lady's house (our new nickname for her because of that psychotic face she made when she offered to make pudding for Zach last week) there is a door in her kitchen. It has a stained glass panel inset and it's got very delicate small white flowers on long stems. It's a beautiful piece. I made Rusty rewind three times so I could get a better look at it over freak lady's shoulder last week (I think I heard Rusty mutter something about limiting my TV exposure). Incidentally, yes, I do get caught up on the oddest things. Welcome to my existence.

If anyone stumbles across a picture of that door? Or a scene from the show with that door? Please email it to me! I want to create something similar to replace the door between our kitchen and laundry room. It's nice to be able to think in terms of aesthetics rather than construction at this point.

Muppet love.

Sean and I watched Sesame Street this morning. Within the first three minutes Cookie Monster, the Count and Big Bird showed up. I forgot how funny that show can be, even for adults. The Muppets? Seriously, one of the best things human kind has ever come up with.

I may be a bit partial, as Jim Hensen attended the University of Maryland as an art major. The same school where I earned my art degree. Kermit was actually developed from one of his early art projects at UMD. And there is the sweetest statue at the student union -- Jim Hensen sitting on a park bench talking to Kermit who is sitting on the backrest next to him. Not talking to Kermit as a puppet, but just Kermit as a little green frog guy. What does that have to do with anything? Nothing. I just like the statue and this is my blog.

Anyway, the Muppets. We are totally loving the Muppets. I'm dating myself but does anyone else remember the Muppet Show? That's good stuff, people! The Swedish Chef alone was worth watching the show. And the whole idea of Gonzo? A weird little blue thing with a chicken fetish? That's quality television right there.

So what's the point of this post? Not sure. Just enjoyed the "ah ha ha"s after the Count counted the cookies then Sean's hysterical laughter as Cookie Monster totally destroyed them. And the "Sing a Song (la la la la la)" song? Classic. Though maybe sharing would get you all thinking back.

If you're feeling brave (because I have a counter, people, I can tell someone is checking up on me and it's not just my mom hitting refresh every ten minutes) leave a comment and tell me who is your favorite Muppet, episode or movie, or song... and don't curse my name when you get one of them stuck in your head for the rest of the week.

For the record: My favorite Muppet Song is probably the one that the dog(Rowlf?) sings in the original Muppet Movie.

"You can't live with 'em, you can't live without 'em.
There's somethin' irresistabullish about 'em.
We grin and bear it 'cause the nights are long.
I hope that somethin' better comes along.

It's no good complainin' and pointless to holler.
If she's a beauty she'll get under your collar.
She made a monkey out of old King Kong,
I hope that somethin' better comes along..."

P.S.

Some of you might read what I just wrote and think that taking water to someone sounds really stupid. It's not the water. It's interacting with someone that would otherwise look at you and assume you'd have nothing to do with them. Don't believe me? Next time you're out to dinner, check out the bus boys. There is a good chance many of them are Latino. Make a point to smile at them, say "Hi" and treat them like someone you'd pass by in your own neighborhood. It may take a few tries, but I'm pretty sure you'll get a smile back and you'll see something change a little in that person's demeaner when they're interacting with you.

Small things done with great love will change the world, dude.

The one where I still don't answer Betsy's question.

A friend was asking should all Christians be involved in some sort of political activity? I left her a nice little comment with my opinion which may or may not be worth something at this particular point in history. And I just wrote four paragraphs about why I have never felt called to be active in any kind of political activities when I realized something. I was thinking along the lines of being active in politics to further what I guess I'd call the "Christian agenda". You know, the standard anti-abortion, anti-gay marriage, anti-everything that isn't outright Christian agenda. Which, by the way, I don't necessarily believe is all wrong. But I think years of listening to Christians in the media has turned a lot of people against the idea of getting to know Christ at all.

So to my friend, I rescind my answer. But I'm not sure what my new answer is. I do feel like there is something that I, as a believer, should do when I hear about policy breakdowns that lead to children being abused or killed by their own foster parents here in the the US, or further way situations like the AIDS epidemic in Africa, civil war, etc. I often times just don't know what to do aside from donations. It seems too big for one person to deal with.

But you know what bothers me most about my friend's question and my thoughts afterward? Why aren't whatever tragedies going on around the world and right here in our own country, why weren't these things on the mainstream Christian agenda? Instead of picketing abortion clinics, why aren't Christians known for hugging those women as they go in? That is an act of love that would actually draw those women to God. I'm thinking picketing? Just pushes them farther away. And here we go... the whole gay marriage thing. Does banning gay marriage mean that homosexuals are just going to disappear from the face of the earth?

I'm not saying I'm for gay marriage. But I am for gay people. I am for shattered women who have to decide to keep a baby or destroy that life. I am for people here in this country because they're working their butts off for minimum wage and sending most of it back to their families in South America. Holy crap! Why would I say something like that? Because those people are so often hurting, lonely, homesick and needing real love. And instead of comforting them with the love of a holy God who sacrificed His son for them? Some of us are too busy trying to decide who's wrong and why they're wrong and what can we do to make sure those wrong people don't multiply. It's been said before and I totally agree: If Jesus were on earth today, who do you think he'd be hanging out with?

One more thing. I know the answer to a lot of what I said is that there needs to be a moral standard, the bible is clear on what's right and wrong, etc. But please keep this in mind as an example of what I'm trying to say: adultry is something that the bible clearly frowns on, right? Old and New testament are pretty clear on it. There were clear rules in Jesus' day about how adultresses were to be dealt with. So with the rules, the biblical references, why did Jesus stand between the mob ready to stone the woman caught in the act? Shouldn't He have let her take her punishment because she went against something written about explicitly in scripture and in the law ? Christ loved her first then told her to go on her way and change her lifestyle. Suck it up people! No one is perfect and sin is sin is sin (and not just the big stuff) so get on with it and stop pointing fingers and start loving the lost!

Now, after all that? I guess I've never felt lead to do anything political because I seem to feel led to do little things. I like to take water to the Latino lady on the corner selling flowers or to the hispanic crews working on our street who otherwise don't make eye contact with us and our neighbors. I make an effort to show some sort of love and friendship to someone that I see every weekday that seems to be very lonely. I like to pay for the coffee for the tree cutting crew that's a few people back in line at 7-Eleven. Those people may eventually become convinced that people aren't all bad and may even spread the love. If that love gets spread again and again... a lot of this crap that we fight about wouldn't be an issue. But, that's just one person's opinion.

Geez, Betsy, did I ever actually answer your question?

Two thumbs up

(I love when they say "way up", like Ebert is waving his hand above his head)

So the movie was really good. Without giving anything away? Best parts included Wookies, Yoda and hottie Ewan McGregor. Even with a beard he's got it goin' on with a light saber. The coolest thing was watching all the loose ends tied up and seeing where the original Star Wars movie picked up from the end of this story. Oh! And Queen whats-her-face's hair? Total old-school Princess Leia side-of-the-head-buns going on. I coveted the mega-buns when I was little so it was a joy to see them brought back to life on the big screen.

Two out of two Sappers give the new Star Wars movie thumbs way up (except for the guy who plays Anikan. Because? He is totally made out of cardboard).

Geek girl = me

Oh yeah, baby. We're going to see Star Wars tonight. I know I'm a rare breed -- a chick who loves Star Wars. But I do. Or at least, I like the real ones (the originals. With the fantastic young Han Solo. Because? He kicked booty). The new ones have been kind of lame-o but of course, they were Star Wars so we did see them each once. But I'm all excited to see how Darth Vader came about so this one had better be good.

Also? When I was little, Darth Vader was the epitome of "Bad Guy". Now they have him selling M & M's, Burger King and Cheetoes. Where's the respect people?

Another day...

Another ridiculous observation on the Sapper household.

I was just cleaning the boys' bathroom. I totally realize that having two little boys, one of whom having only been potty trained for mere months, means you really do have to clean the bathrooms daily. But come on. Do you know what I was just doing for the last ten minutes? Cleaning up toothpaste. From the underside of the toilet. That's right. The underside. I'm at a total loss because from my calculations? You'd have to lie on your back on the bathroom floor, turn your head and aim for the spot I'm talking about. These boys have a 50% average when it comes to hitting the toilet when they go, but they can hit a precise spot on the underside of the toilet with toothpaste?

In other news, Sean has only been answering to the name "Mr. Incredible" for the last week now.

Mental illness or spiritual clarity?

I was just reading over my last week's worth of posts and I swear I may be schizophrenic. I go from a discussion on downloading Kenny Rogers and the Beastie Boys on my iPod to paraphrasing an essay on the depth of Christ's humanity? What is it with me?

Maybe I'm not schizoid. Maybe it's "Spiritual Tourette's" where, you know, I'm going along chatting about iTunes and suddenly shout out a sermon then go about my business like nothing ever happened. I wonder if I can find scripture to support my theory on the state of my mental health? (I have The Message version of the bible; I would not be shocked).

Curious

Just wondering... does anyone actually read the posts like the one below? For the most part it's just me thinking out loud but wondered if anyone else got all the way through it?

In which I go on. And on. And on.

I'm reading a really great book right now. Or part of a book anyway, an essay. One of the seven which make up "The World's Last Night: and Other Essays" by C.S. Lewis. I'm currently reading the last essay in the book, the one actually named "The World's Last Night". It deals with society's views on the second coming of Christ. But it's a secondary discussion that emerges that has really stuck with me lately.

In Mark, chapter 13, Jesus is telling the disciples about his return. And then in verse 30 Jesus makes a statement: "Verily I say unto you, that this generation shall not pass, till all these things be done" (King James version, but funny that they get all formal and use "thou" and "verily" but then throw in "till" instead of "until"? I'm just sayin). Anyway... C.S. Lewis speculates that is could be one of the most frustrating verses for Christians to deal with. The generation that lived during Christ's time on earth is long gone. But of course, we say, Jesus wasn't wrong. It's got to be a "different understanding" of the word "generation" or some similar confusion. But Lewis goes on to say, what if Jesus was wrong when He guessed on when He would be returning?

**Please keep reading, I promise you will not be struck down by lightening. Or least, if you are struck by lightening, it won't specifically be for reading this**

So if you keep reading chapter 13 of Mark, verse 32 goes on to say: "But of that day and that hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels which are in heaven, neither the Son, but the Father." Um, hi. What was that? "Neither the Son?" What?! Is it entirely possible that Jesus was just wrong and thought He'd be back sooner? Because during his time on earth he was human and was just guessing? It doesn't change his sinless nature, it just makes him human. This whole line of thinking was amazing to me. And once I kept reading, it really made sense. Read on...

Lewis writes: "The taking up into God's nature of humanity with all its ignorances and limitations... it would be difficult, and, to me, repellent, to suppose that Jesus never asked a genuine question, that is, a question to which He did not know the answer. That would make of His humanity something so unlike ours as scarcely to deserve the name. I find it easier to believe that when He said 'Who touched me?' (Luke 7:45) He really wanted to know."

Let's think about this a minute. Do you realize what that sentence implies? That when Jesus was on earth, He was sinless and blameless. But He also was really human. Humanity is ignorance. For us to say that Jesus knew everything and just skated through His time here until His death? That takes away from what He really did for us by giving up his divinity and coming to live among the idiots.

Think about this: If Jesus didn't know the details or the future, if He had to actually just live His life like the rest of us to find out? That means that He knew He was here on earth to give His life for us but most likely didn't know all of the horrible details. I mean, there were the prophecies -- the cross, guards gambling over his robes, the mocking. But until you live it, can you imagine how horrifying it would be to know for your entire life that something was going to happen but since you're limited by your humanity, you wouldn't know exactly until it was actually happening? No wonder Christ cried in the garden and asked God to find a different way. Jesus was probably terrified. Think how hard it is for us when we think God isn't there for us. How much worse for Jesus to know God would have to abandon Him to death? To think of Jesus' humanity, on those last few days... it makes the sacrifice that He made for us that much greater. That He put himself through all of that.

I'm not at all saying Christ was a sinner by saying He was human. It's not a sin to be human. To have to make a best guess because you don't know all the facts. And now I have to stop because I believe there is smoke coming out of my ears.

In control

Wanting to keep this from becoming just a series of one-liners as this journal started as a place for me to work out my salvation with a little help from the outside. Please feel free to chime in or chew me out.

Regarding "control"? I mean, I asked for it. I sat in my house back in Fairfield and said "Your will be done". God doesn't take that lightly, and I knew that going into it. And I wanted this, I so wanted this. Maybe not the specifics -- the possibility of a child with special needs or two years of feeling displaced trying to figure out which box has half my life packed in it. But I asked for God to take me from where I was to make me something more. And He totally took me seriously. I'm being forced to take my role as a mother and a parent a lot more deliberately than I may have before. My frienships are being tested and proven by the storms I've been through in which those friends were able to keep me anchored and show me how much they care about me. Those friends have shown me the love of Christ when I felt like I couldn't find it otherwise.

God apparently thinks I'm capable of quite a bit and that terrifies me. But it's also an honor and it's exciting to live through. I feel like I'm at a point where I've been able to take refuge at home with my family and cry a bit. But now I am starting to see the value in some of what's happened over the last few years. And I have to decide if I want to continue to do the easy thing and hide out and remove myself from life for a while. Or can I make myself come clean and admit that I'll live through this and get on with life. With absolutely no control over anything and still coming through it ok. It's that decision that I'm thinking on tonight.

*It's a good thing it's not Wednesday yet because with all of this deep thought? Along with the intensity of watching "LOST"? My head would combust.

Flippin Sweet.

Ok, this is only hysterical if you have seen and love the movie "Napoleon Dynamite" as we do. If you have not or you do not, please talk amongst yourselves.

So, our three year old, Sean. He has started this really entertaining thing. When we hit a green traffic light? He says, "Yesssssssss" kind of under his breath and all Napoleon-y. This in turn prompts Rusty to say "Sweet" (with that hard "t" at the end) and before you know it all hell has broken loose. Someone throws in a "Gosh!" followed by a "Do the chickens have large talons?" and then wraps it up nicely with a "Pedro offers you his protection". We are clearly the largest nerd family on the planet.

I am seriously considering making tater tots for dinner and hoping for Sean to command "gimme your tots".

Oh, please.

Go ahead, ask me what I'm doing this morning. Come on, I dare you (you really should know better at this point).

Well, since you asked... I'm sitting on the floor of the cluttered computer room (so that's where my running shoes went) trying to type in an entry on my borrowed PowerBook (Thank you, NASA) and simultaneously thanking God that I backed up the 700+ songs on iTunes while cursing my stupidy for not having the last three years worth of personal photos on CD. For you see, some nice German people decided to send me a virus through my email (Kein danke schreckliche Leute!). No, I did not open any of the 27 German emails. But Outlook has a preview option and that preview option was enough to set up the virus. It rampaged through our PC. Windows is trashed. Can't start it up. Which means that all of our family photos from 2002-2005 are locked up in a useless black box. Yes, these past few months are making me wonder if there is some deep dark sin I have forgotten and need to repent of.

On a good note, I'm thoroughly enjoying The "Triplets of Belleville" soundtrack which has been locked up on this version of iTunes (though I wish someone could please explain why I would have possibly downloaded the "Milkshake" song).

Musical Chaos

Music I've downloaded in the last week:

Beastie Boys
Rosemary Clooney
The "Garden State" soundtrack
The Prodigals*

I know you're asking and Yes, this did go on the same iPod with Kenny Rogers. No, the iPod did not spontaneously combust (but thanks for your concern).

* Their style is called "Jig-Rock". Is that actually a music catagory? Because, really? I'm all about anything with the word "Jig" in it.

Blues Traveler = Messenger from God?

Man, this is just a great song.

"Just Wait"
Music & Lyrics: John Popper

If ever you are feeling like you're tired
And all your uphill struggles leave you headed downhill
If you realize your wildest dreams can hurt you
And your appetite for pain has drinken its fill

I ask of you a very simple question
Did you think for one minute that you are alone
And is your suffering a privilege you share only
Or did you think that everybody else feels completely at home

Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come

If you think I've given up on you you're crazy
And if you think I don't love you well then you're just wrong
In time you just might take to feeling better
Time is the beauty of the road being long

I know that now you feel no consolation
But maybe if I told you and informed you out loud
I say this without fear of hesitation
I can honestly tell you that you make me proud

Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come

I hope for you and cannot stop at hoping
Until that smile has once again returned to your face
There's no such thing as a failure who keeps trying
Coasting to the bottom is the only disgrace

Just wait
Just wait
Just wait
And it will come

*(of course, "Margaritaville" comes on immediately after this on my "Laid Back Tunes" playlist so I can't claim to be totally deep all the time)

Because things aren't fun enough around here

I opened the dryer this morning to get some clean clothes out for Liam. First thing out? A white shirt. With pretty multi-colored blotches. Blotches that are not supposed to be there. What the crap? I pulled out t-shirt after shorts after undies... all splotched with color. And fabulous color at that.

Then I found it. The navy blue cargo shorts. With the crusty lower pocket. Full of melted crayons. Now before you think, "Duh, woman, check the pockets before you do laundry!" let me tell you that I do! After the first time I accidentally washed Rusty's pager, I'm really careful about it (though not careful enough because notice I had to say "the first time" I washed the pager). But I digress. I do check the pockets. But come on! With the rise in popularity in cargo pants? It would take days to go through every pocket on every pair of shorts and pants that Liam, Sean and Rusty own. Damn you, Old Navy, you and your "everybody-needs-15-extra-pair-of-pockets-on-each-pair-of-pants" mentality.

I didn't even know anyone actually stowed cargo in their cargo pants. But apparently my oldest child, being the practical and thrifty person that he seems to be, decided to make use of all the available pockets on his person and loaded them up with crayons from every restaurant we've visited in the last week. And people? We're renovating a kitchen here. We've seen the inside of a lot of restaurants, let me tell you. There are at least five different colors going on in that load of laundry. Nice blending, I must say (must have been the Crayolas and not those cheapy Rose Art pieces of wax).

I'm off to find the WD-40 as that's what I've been told to try first. If that doesn't work? I'm pulling out the big guns and calling the 1-800 number for Proctor and Gamble listed on the back of my Tide Cold Water. Let P&G solve my problem, that's what I pay the big bucks for.

Oh, look. It's me.

Hi, I'm sad.

I had my first bad dream about Liam and what he may be facing. In the dream some people were being mean to him and didn't understand that he is who he is and that's just the way it is. It wasn't a nightmare in the traditional monster-under-the-bed sense of the word. But it was a very sad thing for me. Mostly? Because we don't yet know what to expect or what we will be facing as Liam gets older.

A few nights ago, while we were doing our nightly snuggle and prayers, Liam fell asleep soundly curled into me. I found myself praying almost desperately. No, not "almost". Just "desperately". Praying that God would protect that part of Liam that makes him so sweet and sensitive and kind and funny and excited and interested in things. To be teased or even just misunderstood all through school takes its toll on a child. I don't want that spark that Liam has to be snuffed out. At our Mother's Day lunch with Rusty's family, the first thing Liam said to anyone was "I like your dress" to our niece Morgan. I don't want Liam to be afraid to say things like that as he gets older. Sometimes kids who are different learn to be afraid to say anything at all.

A good thing to come out of all of this is that I have rediscovered just how lovely my child is. I sit back and watch him with new eyes, wondering exactly how his brain works. And I am totally in love with him and fall down on my face with gratitude before God for entrusting him to me (also scared and confused that God would assume I have the mental capacity to deal with this. That's a good one!)

Collage Book

book
Originally uploaded by art chick.

Oh. My. Goodness. I finally finished something. Pick yourself up off of the floor and check it out. If you click on the photo it will take you to the rest of the book.

Our church is amazing in that we have a wonderful arts community. And that community so often draws in the rest of the church and gives "non-artists" a chance to do something creative (I don't honestly believe there is anything as a "non-artist", basically that's just everyone who has yet to become an artist). I loved that even though I'm an artist I was sitting across from mostly people who don't consider themselves to be artistic but they were thrilled to be playing anyway. Seeing a creative spirit born from an opportunity to try something new? That's a blessing to witness. It's really exciting!

This year at our women's retreat, a fabulous collage artist brought in a few tubs full of fun stuff and let everyone have at it (I'm sorry, Rachelle, I can't remember your last name! Betsy, if you read this, please credit her in a comment). Anyway, this collage book is the result of all of the scavaging and altering and junking I did during that seminar.

Mush Brain

Ok, well, for all of my geeky blogging I'm actually not doing so well. I mean, I may sound like I'm just sitting around writing fluff. But? I'm totally a wreck this last week.

Let's recap, shall we? Ok, September 2003, Rusty starts a new job at NASA here in Maryland and we put our house in Cincinnati on the market. We move in with Rusty's mom while the house in Ohio is on the market. We get an offer and the house stays under contract for seven (yes, seven) months. We live with Rusty's mom for almost a year. For part of that time our much loved but very brain deficient 14 year-old niece lives with us because her mom is an abusive jerk. Are we having fun yet, people? Are you getting this? In-laws. In the same house. For a year. Not to mention the stress from the contract stuff for the Cincinnati house.

Last September, 2004, we buy the house from Rusty's mom when she moves. A month later, we battle it out with moving company who tried to run off with our stuff. We have new carpet installed only to find out they installed the wrong carpet - in both rooms - and go through the whole thing again. We start making the house our own by painting, painting and oh, wait! More painting. We tear out the kitchen, have 110 boxes dumped into our living room, and knock a ginormous hole in one wall. Now we are rebuilding the previously torn apart kitchen.

Meanwhile, in the midst of the chaos we are trying to live life as normally as possible (Sean did get potty trained so all hope it not lost). Then the bombshell about Liam. Gah! I think my brain may explode.

Depending on when you catch me, I'm either fine or I'm falling apart. When am I'm falling apart? Who knows, my brain hasn't decided to let me in on the time table. It just melts down at will. In the middle of Don Pablo's? Sure... have a breakdown. Mucho fun. Buenos noches!

I'm homesick now too. Not just for family (that's always there in the back of my mind). I miss Cincinnati as a whole. I miss the city itself, the familiarity of the streets and places I know. I miss my church like I've lost a best friend. I miss my friends! for now, I catch the Reds at night on WLW which amazingly enough comes in clear as day. I listen to Marty and Joe (and the new guy) and feel just a bit closer to home. And aside from the homesick? I'm tired. Two years of feeling displaced and unsettled has taken it's toll. And it's not pretty.

I do believe God brought us here. But a friend pointed out last night that just because you follow God's leading doesn't mean life won't be hard. He used example of the Israelites following God and ending up at the place with bitter water. God was there. But the water was still bitter. I think they adjusted their attitude and God adjusted the water. Ok, well, this water is so bitter right now that I'm about to throw up!

My musical tastes

Alright now. It has been suggested that my musical tastes suck. All I'm saying is that my iPod has room for all peoples, and all genres to come together and learn to live with one another in harmony. RunDMC lives side by side with Kenny Rogers who cozies up to Natalie Merchant and They Might Be Giants. Sir Mix-a-lot joins hands with R.E.M and U2 and Lenny Kravitz (yes. Sir Mix-a-lot. "Buttermilk Biscuits", baby.) The Kinks, The Ramones, the Clash, the Cure and Depeche Mode mix it up with Jimmy Buffett, Steve Miller, Creedance Clearwater and Bad Company. Oasis, The Lemonheads and Matthew Sweet get together with Brian Adams and Monty Python. And I am in music heaven.

Just to quiet your fears, the Kenny Rogers download? Was preceeded by some of this:



Beastie Boys Anthology - The Sounds of Science

Because the Beasties totally rock my world.

Chaos + my brain = nonsense

My posts lately have been pretty much just nonsense. It's just that my brain isn't functioning very well with the whole house renovation-lack of creative time-Liam's issues thing. It's like my brain is going manic and goody stuff just keeps popping up. Maybe to thwart the more stressful thoughts? I don't know.

But here's what I'm thinking on right now. I spent yesterday afternoon filling out an eight page packet to send to Children's Hospital regarding Liam's upcoming assessment (Click here to read the Liam post). As a Believer, my first response it to talk with God about all of this. And of course, when you think something may be wrong with your child, you ask God to fix it. But as I'm starting to pray and ask God for healing for Liam I realize it. Liam isn't sick. His brain just works a bit differently (depending on what the diagnosis turns out to be). To ask God to "heal" him would essentially mean changing who Liam is. The way he thinks and acts and what essentially makes him unique. And you know what? I don't to change who Liam is. Sure, I want him to succeed. And be happy. But does he need to "be healed" to do that? I don't think he does. So I thanked God then said "No, thanks. He's perfect just the way he is and we'll deal with the challenges he may face".

And I'm pretty sure I heard God say, "Duh."

You know you love him. And his chicken.

Want to hear something disturbing? I'll tell you, but only if you don't judge me. I just downloaded ten songs from this album from iTunes.



Kenny Rogers Twenty Greatest Hits

I'll let you figure out which ten I downloaded.

In which I learn French

So apparently when you go to type in Amazon.com and accidentally add an "e" to the end of "Amazon"? You get Amazon.com in French. Ooo la la.

www.amazone.com

Noises

So last night I was convinced that the tree frogs were plotting the apocolypse. There were at least 10,000 of them in the backyard and woods making all kinds of unnecessary noise ( I'm just estimating population by what we heard. I might be way low on the numbers there so don't quote me). Apparently the frogs are quite happy that the warm weather has come. They won't shut up. Now, one or two little tree frog peeps? That's cute and all Yay-spring-has-finally-come. But multiple thousands of them? Along with the other odd amphious noises and random bird calls? People, it sounds like Jurassic Park out there.

Flickr

"Flickr? I hardly know her"

Now that we've got that nonsense out of the way...

I signed up and got myself a Flickr account. Because? All the cool people (i.e. Betsy) have one. And it's free. And so very cool. And pretty much fool proof. Plus it lets me put pretty pretty pictures on my blog. So YAY!

My Flickr pictures (feel free to go peek)

This house hates us

Ok, so this house? Totally hates us. With the white hot passion of a thousand suns. Apparently this house only adores Rusty's mom and that love does not extend to her offspring. And get this (this makes things even more exciting), the hatred is spreading. Now the yard is getting into the act.

The house apparently made a deal with the lawn mower:

House: "Bwa ha ha ha ha ha... Lawn mower, thall shalt stall at least 15 times while the lawn is being mown. "

Lawn Mower: "Yes, master. Yesss, maaaa-ster."

House: "And just for kicks, when the evil homeowner tries to restart you for the 16th time? Thou shalt go all out. Let them have it!"

Lawn Mower: "I have the perfect plan..."

And since I had no part in this conversation, I had no previous knowledge of the stupidity that was about to be unleashed upon me as an unsuspecting, law abiding, lawn mowing citizen:

Me: [Mowing along]

Lawn Mower: [stall]

Me: [Restart mower]

** Repeat this 14 more times **

Lawn Mower: [stalls for the 16th time]

Me: "...the hell?" [pulls handle-on-a-string that starts lawn mower]

** Handle-on-a-string that starts lawn mower comes completely, all the way, out of lawn mower and lands across the yard **

Lawn Mower: "Ha ha ha ha ha. You lose."

Being Mom is hard

Holy crap, people. What a week. Last week, Liam's doctor acknowledged that some of our concerns for the short man (a.k.a. Liam) may be symptomatic of borderline autism or one of the other conditions under the "Autistic Spectrum". We can't get an appointment anywhere in the metro Washington DC area before mid-September. We're scheduled for September 12 at Children's National Medical Center. At least they were nice. One other place told me how important they were before they said they couldn't schedule Liam until October. The other place told us we could fill out their packet and they'd get back to us to let us know if they would see Liam.

This? This is not gonna fly with us. Liam starts first grade in a new school in the fall. PG County has yet to decide who will staff that new school. We're lucky because a lot of the kids in Liam's class will be switching to the new school as well. But it's still a change -- a new building, new way of doing things, new grade... and "new" isn't really Liam's friend. Unless he can be prepped way ahead of time. Which is why we're all "Woo HOO! A new school? That's great! Yay, fun, good times!" I'm not sure he's fooled, but he's not freaking out either.

Back to our current situation. Our doctor? She's great. Very reassuring. Doesn't think Liam is dealing with any hard core issues but suspects something mild that will just need to be slightly adjusted for him to make it through school ok. She's totally supporting the idea of getting this assessment done before school starts and encouraged us to go where ever we need to to get that done. So. I went old school. Having grown up in Cincinnati I know the caliber of Cincinnati Children's Hospital. My sister is a researcher there (Nephrology rocks!). So I called the Kelly O'Leary Center for Autism Spectrum Disorders . I wasn't sure what to expect as Cincinnati Children's Hospital is a top hospital. I'm so glad I called.

First of all, the woman I talked to - June - was incredibly reassuring. She couldn't tell me enough about the wonderful people there. She explained the process, she went over the paperwork, when I mentioned the irony in our move from Cincinnati and now we're having to head back for something like this she told me that God exposes things and brings them to light in His time. What?!

I, of course, burst into tears.

Our doctor took care of the referral today and Cincinnati Children's is sending the paperwork out next week. They will schedule Liam's assessment for sometime in July most likely. If they decide he needs to see anyone else to assist in the diagnoses, they will try to schedule it for that day so we don't have to make another trip out there. They will take care of pre-authorizing everything with our insurance company so we don't have to. They have a form for us to fill out in case our insurance doesn't cover it all. We will get 0-100% financial help after they review the form. If we don't get help, we still get placed on a billing plan just for filling out the form. Most importantly is that no one Liam deals with will look like "a doctor" (aside from possible lab work that would need to be done). No white coats or other "something-must-be-wrong-with-me" inducing props. As far as he knows, Liam will be there to play games and have fun while Mommy and Daddy and one of their "friends" watch and talk.

That about sums it up for now. Oh, each of the boys have ear infections in both ears and I haven't had a night of uninterrupted sleep since last Thursday.

Liam

See this face? This face belongs to a little boy who is smart, funny, sensitive, friendly, athletic and incredibly sweet. This little boy may also be borderline autistic. Please keep us in your prayers.

Festival of Colors

Residents dance as colored water falls on them as they celebrate Rangpanchami, the Hindu festival of colors, in Bhopal, India. (photo from CNN.com)



What can you say about that? It's gorgeous.

My Pretty Kitchen

Look at my kitchen. Isn't it nice?



I know you are all jealous. You know you want tar on your floor and drywall dust on every single item you own -- admit it! Maybe one day, with a lot of hard work and a little luck, you too can have a kitchen just like mine.

Also? Don't the little kid chairs make the table look all giant-y?

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.

Oh no - part II

I just want to clarify something I wrote earlier regarding my reaction to someone having the "nerve" to question Brian McLaren, who just happens to be our pastor. Please believe me when I say that I am not going to blindly cheer Brian on based on the facts that he is a "great guy" and because I have certain biases against certain churches due to my experience growing up. No. What I am defending is the right to think beyond the church rules I was taught (that does not mean to ignore them!). It's the same feeling I had back during the elections. I hated the feeling that if I was really a Christian, I would be voting for Bush. Well, sometimes I feel like if I were really a Christian, I would dress a certain way for church, or worship a certain way, or pray a certain way... the list goes on. If my relationship with Christ is truly personal, as I was always taught, then it really should be personal. No one knows me like my own creator.

I "Googled" Brian's name and the term "Emergent" hoping to get a better understanding of the whole conflict over all. And, to be honest, to also double check my opinions on the book against scripture. I don't want to stray from Christ, regardless of who may be doing the talking. Yes, I like Brian, but I like Christ more. And in all honesty, I still stand by my opinion that Brian isn't trying to lead Christians into a murky land where there is "no right and no wrong". But then, I'm capable of reading his books and making my own decisions and forming my own opinions. Maybe that's the key? I don't know.

I'm sure that for every Christian book out there, there is someone who will read it and take it the wrong way, or use it as an excuse to act out their personal agendas or as evidence that their way of thinking is the right way. It's the price we pay as humans trying to come to understand the Divine. Will I blindly read and believe everything I read that comes from Brian McLaren? No. But I will read it. We don't attend Cedar Ridge because Brian's the pastor. We attend Cedar Ridge and Brian happens to be our pastor.

I don't want to be a part of some new movement, a cool new group, whatever. I want to serve Christ by serving others. I want to show someone the love of God instead of just telling them about it. I want to show others how much they are loved by doing something they think no one would bother to care about. I don't want "Christian" to be a dirty word. Will someone help me out here, please?

Missing my church - Part II

So I miss my Vineyard. Or as my grandma calls it, "The Winery". She can never remember the name. And she is hard-core Catholic so she thinks we are a bunch of loons.

I know where this feeling of homesickness for my church started, and when. Last summer. That's when I met Cruz Estaban.

Because of the hurricane that hit here in the DC area the year before last, BGE had tree trimming crews out all over the area trimming back from the power lines. We had tree guys in our neighborhood for a few weeks. One day, I came home to find 11 or so Latino guys sitting in our front yard - under one squatty little tree - eating their lunch. It was 90+ degrees and I noticed that none of them had anything to drink. We had a bunch of pop (no "soda" for me, thanks) left over from a picnic the week before so Liam and I gathered it up and took it outside. Ha! You couldn't get much more "Vineyard" than giving away free pop (unless you clean toilets. But that wasn't an option.) Anyway, I'm not sure if the guys were more shocked by the free drinks or the fact that we were talking to them. We got a round of "Gracias" and then the crew leader came up. He asked, with a heavy accent, if I spoke Spanish. **Insert laughter here**

**Not only do I not speak Spanish, I dropped it three times at the University of Maryland. I considered it a gift from God when the university gave me a diploma without me having completed my language requirements. Now, being the honest person that I am, I took the diploma into the school office, told them they'd made a mistake and showed them my most recent transcripts. They thanked me for my honesty. Then proceeded to send me another diploma two weeks later. My knowledge of Spanish is limited to anything I've ever heard on Sesame Street or Dora. And "The Song of the Cucumber" by Veggie Tales. I can say "like butter on a bald monkey" with the most authentic accent imaginable.** Back to the post.

Anyway, the crew leader asked if I spoke Spanish and I had to reply that no, I didn't, silently cursing my collegiate self. He pointed to the American flag tangled up on itself outside the house -- tangled in just the right way so that it looked like the Puerto Rican flag. He had thought we shared a common language. Regardless of the language barrier, he introduced himself -- his name was Cruz. He gave me a business card for his landscaping service. He asked how old the boys were and said Liam was a very good boy. Then he thanked us again and he and the crew climbed back up into the trees.

The next day was just as hot as the day before, so late morning I took out some bottles of water in the cooler and a big pitcher of lemonade. I told Cruz that his guys could sit at the patio table under the umbrella in the shade of the house to eat if they wanted and ten minutes later the lemonade was gone. When I went out to get the pitcher to refill it, I was greeted with a few "Hola" and "Gracias" from the tree tops and some head nods or waves as well. We kept the water and lemonade flowing for the next few days as the crew worked up and down the street.

One morning I caught Cruz as they passed through the backyard from the school where they were parking the truck. I let him know that I was going to church to do some painting and that the guys could feel free to use the backyard for lunch. I had set out the cooler again and when it was empty, they could refill their water from the hose if they wanted. The word "church" seemed to strike a chord with him, and I ended up learning that he went to a Spanish speaking church in Annapolis, where he lived with his family which included boys Liam and Sean's age. The heavy accent and lack of language on both sides made the conversation hard, but he was very interested in where we went to church, what kind of church it was, what they taught. That's when it hit me.

I started to say, "My church has all kinds of things they do, and they do it in Spanish..." when I realized my church didn't have all of that. I realized that I had been taking in all of what the Vineyard had to teach about service and showing God's love in a practical way... and now felt like I was left alone with no way to further that small relationship that had started. I wanted to ask if Cruz's family needed anything. If they had good friends to help them in their walk with Christ. If they had a walk with Christ. If they missed their home. If they had a place here where they felt at home. But I was afraid of the answer. What if they did need a church home? Or resources for language classes? I had nothing. I didn't know where to point him, so I didn't ask.

I'm not faulting our current church here in Maryland for not being "The Vineyard". But I want to know what I'm supposed to do with these convictions that I carry. Like I admitted above, I have never been good with foreign languages. Never really had an interest in the Latin American culture. But lately, I feel like there is an invisible sub-culture that is largely ignored by many of us. The people who clean the floors where we shop, bus the tables where we dine, and trim the trees where we live... many of them have left their homes, their families, everything that is familiar to them. And have come here and live in many of the places that we don't think are good enough for us to raise our families.

For now, I smile and wave to Cruz and his tree guys when we see them in the neighborhood. I try to buy flowers from the guys at the intersection near our house when it's raining or snowing. They don't speak any English except "Five dollars" but I hope looking them in the eye while I say "Thank you" makes some little impact (and if it snows, I'm taking hot chocolate down there tomorrow!). My heart hurts that I feel so inadequate when there is so much need. And for more than stupid things like a "Thank you" or a wave or hot chocolate. But I don't know what else to do with it. So I'm still praying.

Oh no.

"...in a narrow place between two rocks there came to meet me a great Lion. The speed of him was like the ostrich, and his size was an elephant's; his hair was like pure gold and the brightness of his eyes, like gold that is liquid in the furnace. He was more terrible than the Flaming Mountain of Lagour, and in beauty he surpassed all that is in the world, even as the rose in bloom surpasses the dust of the desert. Then I fell at his feet and thought, Surely this is the hour of death, for the Lion (who is worthy of all honour) will know that I have served Tash all my days and not him. Nevertheless, it is better to see the Lion and die than to be Tisroc of the world and live and not to have seen him. But the Glorious One bent down his golden head and touched my forehead with his tongue and said, Son, thou are welcome. But I said, Alas, Lord, I am no son of Thine but the servant of Tash. He answered, Child, all the service thou hast done to Tash, I account as service done to me. Then by reason of my great desire for wisdom and understanding, I overcame my fear and questioned the Glorious One and said, Lord, is it then true, as the Ape said, that thou and Tash are one? The Lion growled so that the earth shook (but his wrath was not against me) and said, It is false. Not because he and I are one, but because we are opposites, I take to me the services which thou hast done to him, for I and he are of such different kinds that no service which is vile can be done to me, and none which is not vile can be done to him. Therefore if any man swear by Tash and keep his oath for the oath's sake, it is by me that he has truly sworn, though he know it not, and it is I who reward him. And if any man do a cruelty in my name, then though he says the name Aslan, it is Tash whom he serves and by Tash his deed is accepted. Dost though understand, Child? I said, Lord, thou knowest how much I understand. But I said also (for the truth constrained me), Yes, I have been seeking Tash all my days. Beloved, said the Glorious One, unless thy desire had been for me thou wouldst not have sought so long and so truly. For all find what they truly seek." - The Last Battle, C.S. Lewis

Today, I had my first experience with someone accusing our pastor of being a nutjob. They based their opinion on Brian's book. A book they haven't read (there seems to be a lot of that going around -- this particular book being reviewed without having been read). This person's opinion, and the people backing that opinion, focused solely on who was right and who was wrong rather than what was right and what was wrong.

When I was seven or eight, I received The Chronicles of Narnia for my birthday. Even at that age, I had the slightest notion that some of the things in the books would have been slightly controversial if the wrong people chose to pick up on them. Being in a Christian school, where kids asked questions such as "what about the natives in the deepest jungle, who have never even heard of Jesus... will they go to heaven?" made this particular passage extremely important to me. For some reason, I seem to have made a connection between the ideology put forth in this passage and Brian's book. I'm just not eloquent enough to put the link down in writing.

I'm sorry if that makes little sense. The boys are having a "Mighty Beanz" race in the other room.

Church (again)

Please let me tell you about my church. Not the church we attend now, here in Maryland. I really like our church here, honestly. But when I think of "my church", I will probably always think of the church where I became a believer. The Springdale Vineyard, in Cincinnati. NOTE: this is often called the "Cincinnati Vineyard" because it's the largest one in the city. But there is a Cincinnati Vineyard. Not the same church, though part of the same group.

At the age of 21, after 12 years of Christian schooling, I decided that there might actually be people who didn't care that I was a mess, they just cared. Sitting next to my oldest friend (Hi, Jenny Hoop!) on a Big Wednesday night at the Vineyard, I sat and cried to myself as I realized that all of those altar calls in chapel had meant nothing to me. I quietly realized that Christ loved me. But even more important? I realized he liked me too. And thought I was someone worth spending time on. I was hooked. Every Sunday I went and listened to Steve Sjogren talk about his struggles as another regular person who just happened to be a pastor. He sounded remarkabley real to me. Dave Workman was the music leader at the time and made you forget you were in church. His hair was a running joke. People at church didn't make jokes as far as I'd ever known (or at least, didn't make jokes I actually thought were funny).

Obviously, I have an emotional attachment to the church where I came to know Christ. I made a lot of decisions -- hard decisions for a 21 -year-old -- based on convictions that developed over my time at the Vineyard. When it was announced that we would be building a new building, I got a little nervous. I had been in churches in the past where money took over when new buildings were in the works. Sermons about love and compassion were replaced with talks on tithing, giving more, stretching yourself so that God could bless you because you gave more, and how you were a terrible person if you didn't give more, dammit. I hated new buildings. That changed quickly. Someone at the Vineyard must have realized that the money had a way of taking over. So they gave the money away. Gave the building fund to another church so that church could buy their own church building outright. Invited the pastor to one of the services and handed him a big ol' Price Is Right sized check (you know, the big cardboard ones -- Vineyard loves the cheese). I was floored. And the new building still got built. How? I don't know, exactly. I'm thinking that if God needs a new house, he can build himself one. So He did.

Fast forward five years. The Springdale Vineyard has been in their new home for over four or five years now. It is immense. "Why do churches need to be so big?" My answer to that initially is "why do you care?". There is usually a disdainful attitude attached to the "Big church" question and I feel defensive when I hear it. I say, shut your mouth and go watch and learn. Then get back to me (NOTE: I don't think churches have to be big. But I also don't think it's a sin if it's over a certain size).

Carved on the side of the immense Springdale Vineyard is this sentence -- "Small things done with great love will change the world". That simple prhase is the backbone of the Vineyard. They walk the talk. Why do they need a big building? Because they do small things. A lot of small things.

"Servant Evangelism" is what it's called there. "Showing God's love in a practical way". Showing up at Target with a bunch of people and umbrellas to walk shoppers to their cars in the rain. Going to stores and restaurants offering to clean toilets so the employees don't have to, and to give them a break so they can get home a little quicker (NOTE: cleaning toilets makes people FREAK. Why would you do that? I don't get it. Yes... I have to clean the bathroom before I can clock out. Why do you want to do it for me? I don't get it. Seriously. Sure God loves me, but you're telling me He cares if I have to clean the bathroom every night? Nuh uh.) One Sunday, there was a video of Steve (the pastor) and Dave Workman (music leader at the time) on a moped in Downtown Cincinnati racing around putting quarters into expired parking meters. The background music was Mission Impossible. That was one of the more sane videos (Click here for another one - it's a take off on the identity theft commercials on tv. It's funny. And that guy is Robbie Reider, the worship leader).

Anyway, the Vineyard is fun and funny. But also very important to the local community in which it exists. MercyWorks offers services from oil changes for single mothers to medical care to English classes for Spanish speaking immigrants who would otherwise be without. Run, for the most part, by volunteers. One service is translated in sign language (there is nothing quite like seeing the large hearing-impaired community at the Vineyard collectively signing the worship songs during a service). Another service is translated into Spanish and one section of the church has the translation piped into headphones (the kind you often see offered for the hearing impaired). Vineyard gives away at least 80% of the money it takes in. And the investment is obvious in the lives of those who are touched.

This post is in danger of becoming too long. There are reasons why I've been homesick for my church lately. I'm hoping to post more on it. Mostly so I can figure out what I want to do about it. I feel a need but not sure how to fulfill it. I'll keep praying, and probably typing, and I'd love to get your feedback (if there actually are any of you out there reading this). I've added links to the things that had links. Please feel free to check them out and hopefully you'll see what it is that I think is so important.

My Life - The Past Month.

Holy poop. It's been a long year so far and it's only February! What the crap?!

So far, for our little family, our last month has included the following:

- Pink eye (Liam)
- Virus (Rusty, two work days missed)
- Strep throat (Sean)
- Ear infections in both ears (Sean, accompanying the strep. Because, hey. Strep itself just isn't bad enough to deal with when you're three.)
- Sinus infection (Me. Twice. Within four weeks. Or possibly the 1st infection just never went away.)
- Bronchitis (Also me. Also twice. Or same, again. Along with the sinus infection. Good times.)

Yeah. All of that has been within the last two-three weeks. I'm spent. Oh, I almost forgot. And along with the sickness? A hole. A gigantic hole. In one wall. Well, that's not accurate. "Hole" implies that the wall is still present. This wall is halfway gone. It's a good thing. A very good thing, actually. But taking down half of a wall - a LOAD BEARING wall - well, that takes time. And two huge steel beams to distribute the weight. Let me show you...




The drywall is down. This is the frame of the wall that existed between our dining room and kitchen. Notice the massive MESS. The kitchen is getting totally redone next, and we still have packed boxes from our move out of the storage unit in Ohio over Thanksgiving.





The braces have been put in both sides, so the framing can come down to counter top level. Still a massive mess. Also? Notice the ugly chandelier up on the right sticking in the photo. It had hanging crystals (plastic crystals) and lots of bright brassy gold. It made my head hurt therefore I removed them.





Countertop is starting to take shape overall. Lots of drywall work to be done.





Looks a bit better, and you can see the steel beam on the left side inside the wood frame-up. Also, new chandelier. It's brushed silver/pewter and has the glass with "bubbles" it in, like old fashioned imperfect glass. It also has a glass detail in the center of the bottom, but you can't see it from here. And? That white paneled wall used to be brown. Two coats of primer and five coats of paint cleaned it up.






Ahhhhh. The lovely wallpaper in the kitchen. Can you believe we want to get rid of that?

So the work is almost done. We've hung two pendant lights over the countertop, the drywall is almost finished and we can start priming and painting the dining room side soon. Next up? Cabinets have to come out and wood laminate flooring in kitchen has to go down so we can get the appliances and new cabinets in. I'm really really thankful we're able to do this. don't let my frustration and impatience fool you. It's making the house our own. And we're doing most of it ourselves (A contractor did the load bearing wall framing and drywall up to now. We've done/are doing all the rest on our own.) It's just a long road a head as far as getting things finished and being able to really clean up the house and have a place for everything. And be rid of the drywall dust. And this is aside from the family room where we removed paneling, re-insulated and drywalled and now have to prime and paint as well. Yee HAW! It's a good thing I like doing this stuff more than I mind the mess! Pray for us.

World On Fire

If you haven't yet seen Sarah McLachlan's "World on Fire" video, please click on the link and watch the whole thing. It's astounding.

Sarah McLachlan - "World on Fire" Video

*Sidenote: the first time I saw this, it followed Britney Spears' "My Perogative" in which a luxery sports car is sunk in a swimming pool in the first few minutes... (it's not hard to make Britney look bad at the best of times, but as a lead in to "World on Fire" it's just another sign that our culture is rapidly swirling down the toilet).

Liam's not a baby anymore

Well, it had to be done. Rusty and I were able to keep the most gruesome photos/video from Liam and Sean all week. But realistically, with Liam now in kindergarten, we realized we were going to have to tell him something about the Tsunami or he was likely to hear it all at school. Most likely not from a teacher or adult, but from another child. Which brought back memories of our six weeks of terror while the cicadas invaded this summer. Six weeks of terror because Liam had been told Cicadas 1.) flew into your mouth and choked you to death. 2.) Bit you. Sometimes to death. And my favorite - partially because the kid that told him this is one of the sweetest kids and I think he honestly believed it was true because the bigger kid across the street from him told him so... 3.) Cicadas spit acid into your eyes. With a possibility of death because after all, they're five years old. And they're boys.

Anyway, we decided to tell Liam the facts about the Tsunami so that if he did hear anything at school, he wouldn't totally be freaked out. He's in an ESOL school with children from a variety of countries/backgrounds. We weren't sure who may have been affected and/or how. I was really nervous about it because of that fine line between impressing the reality of the situation versus terrifying a five-year-old kid. But Liam sat as we talked and looked very serious and asked if he could see the pictures on the news. I had just turned on NBC and they were doing a relatively tame montage of photos/video that I had paused when Liam came in the room. I rewound and we watched the shots of the wave crashing over the hotel wall into the pool (no people in that shot, but you could hear screaming), a boat being tossed around and then tipped over, people standing in front of their wrecked homes, and others waiting in line for food. I explained the basics of what had happened, why they had to now wait in line for food and water, what we were doing about it as a country and as a family, and why it couldn't happen to our house (because we're a few hours inland) without having him decide he never wants to go to the beach again. I also told him that man people had died, including many children. Liam was reverently enthralled. And visibly sobered by the images. But not scared. He was actually very concerned for the people involved, and interested in the mechanics of a wave big enough to do so much damage. And he mentioned that he could hear the people screaming in one of the videos.

So here's where I realized I wasn't dealing with a baby anymore, but a real kid at this point. Liam kept asking if he could watch more of the news. I couldn't tell if he was thought the wave smashing into the pool was "cool" or just wanted to stay up, or what. We had, after all, seen the very tamest of images compared to what's been broadcast all week. So I said "Liam, what happened is very sad and the news was hard even for me to watch. It's not pretend or funny, it's real and it really happened to people." Liam looked seriously offended and said "I didn't think it was funny or pretend. But I want to see what happened!" If it hadn't been the night before school started again, I believe I would have let him stay up and watch some more.

I'm still glad we kept the majority of images and newscasts from Liam throughout the week. I got the impression even last night that the people screaming and crying in the background was the hardest thing for him. He hates to see people sad or crying (which is why the child wouldn't watch all of "Monsters, Inc." until this past summer. He disliked that the monsters were making the kids scream in terror). I'm glad that we were able to tell him the facts about the Tsunami and the aftermath and then let him see the images with some understanding of why the people were so upset. There is still a lot of talk about the decomposing of bodies, etc. as well as photos of people being buried so even keeping some of the more graphic newscasts from him is the plan for the moment (no CNN for him at this point). But I'm thrilled that he was able to hear about something and think about it instead of just worrying for himself (which would have been understandable for a kid, I know). But man... this was a hard week in regard to trying to balance what's best.

Tsunami Post

I deleted the last post. It just seemed so small next to the numbers that just won't stop climbing higher. Everything you could possibly say seems so small.

I haven't watched a lot of TV coverage. We have a a 3-year-old and a 5-year-old so we try to keep our news coverage to either CNN.com or TV news after they're asleep. **NOTE: some of you may disagree with "sheltering" them from "reality". Liam was 2 1/2 on September 11, 1999. Of course, I had the TV on non-stop. But Liam noticed, and worried. Even at 2 1/2. He wanted to know why that airplane kept crashing into the building and was it broken and would they be able to fix it and were the people ok and why are you crying, Mom? I was due to have Sean two days later, I had a hormone rush going that made Niagra Falls look like a trickle and had been having contractions off and on for days. But that look of innocent concern on Liam's face will be etched into my brain forever. That's when I decided that he didn't need to see things like that until he was able to really think about the answers I was going to have to give him. I'm not sure, even at 5 years of age now, if I can give him good answers for this. I don't feel like I have anything to give him, good or bad.

Anyway, I haven't watched CNN on TV because of the kids. But last night, after they were in bed I turned it on. About halfway into a photo montage, I was crying. Rusty turned from the computer obviously worried about me, and hadn't seen the images that started it (the bodies of dead children, alone, waiting for someone to come claim them). I wanted to tell Rusty I was ok. But I wasn't. And I think he may have been wondering if he should turn the TV off and make me go to bed. But to his credit, he didn't. He let me be an adult and make my own decision. So I kept watching. I forced myself to watch image after image. I said this after the Belsan school tragedy, and it's still how I feel -- I feel that I owe it to someone, somewhere, to acknowledge that that child, that mother, that husband... those people were loved. They were something to someone. They are a loss to their families, their friends, their countries and the world. To look at those images is to acknowledge that something precious passed from this world. In all honesty, we know that many of those bodies are not going to be claimed. Whether it's because of the need to bury them quickly or because the rest of their families are gone as well. Some of those people will never be mourned individually. I guess it's the only way I feel like I can pay tribute to them, to the sorrow someone somewhere is feeling, as I sit here comfortably in my home with my two children sleeping peacefully and my husband sitting nearby.

Some people have complained to CNN that their photos are too graphic and stories are too sad. I say that life is too graphic and too sad sometimes. But that's what makes it life. Ignoring it isn't really living. Taking it in... feeling the anguish... and continuing on. That's life, isn't it?

I do want to post the links to the Red Cross site, if only because that's where we were able to donate. I also want to encourage you to check and see if your employer does charitable gift matching. Rusty's former employer would match charitable giving up to $500 per year.

Red Cross online donation form **Please designate the money to go to the International Response Fund: https://www.redcross.org/donate/donation-form.asp

Off White

Do you have any idea how oppressive off-white can be? I know what you're thinking... "but off-white is so neutral... so basic...". No. Off-white sucks. Or more specifically, the off-white in this house sucks. It's more of a "non-white". It's not ambitious enough to be a true white. And it has too little character to be an interesting off-white like a nice "Antique" or even "Ecru". And just to make things feel that much more suffocating, this semi-gloss, non-white paint is on every wall, ceiling and piece of trim in this house. That is... it was. Until this past Tuesday. That's when the living room got shocked into the present day with a lovely organic shade of olive green on the walls (Olympic Brand "Willow Tree"). It's wonderful and actually quite dark and contrasts beautifully with our stark, crisp, clean real white fireplace and windows/window trim. And white sheer curtains that will soon with snazzed up with some kind of contrasting bands of color across the tops and bottoms.

I cannot believe how happy these last two days of painting has made me. When I sat back and looked at my couch with the olive paint behind it... I started to cry. I know, what a geek. But I did. It was the first time in a year and so many months that things started to feel like "ours" again. My mother-in-law may have a coronary, but it's going to be a far cry from the house she moved out of in September. Thank God.

Makeover TV

So do any of you watch Extreme Makeover: Home Edition? If not, you should. We're not reality TV watchers but this isn't really "reality TV" in the Survivor or The Apprentice sense. Seriously, you must see this show. It will make you cry like an idiot and you won't be embarrassed by your tears. I'm totally not kidding. You will bawl. Like a baby.

Anyway, the reason I bring this show up is because it is not a "Christian" show, but the it's just about the best example of the real love of Christ that I've ever seen. Showing God's love in a practical way, in other words (Go, Vineyard!). On each episode, the designers roll into town at the request of a family in need -- for example, Patricia Broadbent, who raised her own family then as a social worker and single mother adopted three young girls with HIV. Then she was diagnosed with cancer this past year. Or Stefan Varden, the teenager who wrote about his deaf parents raising him and his younger brother who is autistic and blind. His parents can't speak to his brother and his brother can't see his parents' sign language and this 14 year old boy takes care of them all and embraces his role as care giver... these are the things that make you cry initially. The stories that are brought to light. The looks on the faces of the families when they realize that someone is going to help them.

I don't care if the designers are "saved", or gay, whatever. They are part of something that is so uplifting in it's selflessness in regard to caring about people in need, and giving the very best and not just making something passable or livable (there is no budget on this show and it's amazing what these designers do for these families). What ends up making me get all teary even more than the tragic stories is watching the designers go all out designing a special bedroom for one of the children just because they know that kid will go crazy for it. Or building the special art room, or work out room just for the sake of making the family happy. It's not necessary stuff. It's wonderful, fun, impractical, spiritually and emotionally and mentally important stuff.

I also appreciate the fact that every time I watch this show it puts my every day stresses into perspective when compared to people living with much much greater problems. What a fabulous thing. A television program that doesn't leave me annoyed, wishing I had a nicer car, more money, or less body weight. These people, whether they know it or not, are doing God's work. I really hope this show hangs around for a while. It's on Sunday nights on ABC at 8:00. It's worth taking the time to sit and watch and get inspired.

**NOTE -- Now don't get me wrong. I'm not a moron, I know that all the companies involved are getting advertising, etc. But please. The premise of this show, overall, is so much better than a lot of what's out there.

In other news

That freak of a squirrel came back. Twice. It climbed to the top of the window ledge and tried to get in again. Maybe a dearly departed friend has been reincarnated. I have my suspicions.

Back from holiday

So it's been a long week. We left the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, drove to Cincinnati and stayed until Sunday. It was a pretty good trip but I hate it because it feels like it takes a week or so to recouperate afterwards. There was just no "down time". Our trip consisted of the following:

Leave Bowie around 3:00 p.m. after Rusty gets home from work. Coast along until we hit some rush hour traffic near Frederick. Stop for dinner at Breezewood - the neon jungle of the PA turnpike. Just barely order before bus-full of high school kids arrives. Ever seen the Spongebob where the five buses full of anchovies show up at the Krusty Krab and get all rowdy and such yelling "eat, eat, eat, eat, eat, eat... EAT!!!"? That was pretty much the scene.



Sean waved at every girl he saw. And what's up with 15-year-olds having tattoos spanning the entire width of their back just above the undie line? Arrive in Cincinnati sometime around 1:30 a.m. Boys decide to party it up with Grandma until around 3 am. Good times.

Wednesday: cousin's wife calls at ungodly hour and we're all awake again by 8 am. Rusty leaves for lunch with a friend from work. I help my mom rearrange three of the tables set up for the 31 Thanksgiving dinner guests. Mom worries that Caitlin will beat her about the head and ears with the previously completed and now totally useless seating chart. I assure Mom that Caitlin only beats people for good reason. We do get a break and Mom and I eat lunch together at BW3 (must speak to someone about Mom's possible addiction to boneless wings). We then stop at mall on way to Lianne's house. Ahhhh. Lianne's house. The only relaxing hour of that day. So nice. We leave, and I lose track of time at this point. Oh yeah, Mom goes home and puts turkey number two out of three into the oven. We do more pre-Thanksgiving stuff and head out to Chipotle for dinner. Pick up Caitlin along the way (Yay, Cait!). So after all that, Cait, my mom and I head to Jungle Jim's because, really, where else do you want to go when you're exhausted and feel like passing out? Of course - the world's largest goofy grocery store. Seriously, I love the Jungle. But even more seriously, I love that they put in a Starbucks. I barely remember the rest of the night but I'm pretty sure I took off my boots in the parking lot.

Thursday. Just a blur of turkey (so yummy), family, loudness, more family, noodles and croutons and even more family. Good god, where DO these people keep coming from? My grandma, my parents and brother and two sisters with their families, one of my mom's sisters and her husband and nine of my twelve cousins (just on my mom's side, remember) plus my cousins' spouses, kids, etc. Good food, but man... very tired at this point. Rusty goes to play poker with my cousins and various other people, I get the boys to bed and pass out.

Friday... what the crap did we do Friday? Holy cow. Oh yeah, how could I forget? Mom took us to see the Spongebob movie. Rusty, Liam, Sean, my mom and I. It was Sean's first movie in a theater (he's a serious Spongebob fan) and the Springdale theaters are seriously very very nice. Huge screen. Good times again. Lunch then Rusty took the boys home while Mom and I and my cousin, Aimee, hit Archivers - a giganto and quite nice scrapbook store in Mason. Which is next door to a Borders. Which serves coffee. Bought Brian McLaren's new book since it was right next door at Borders and all. And they have coffee.

At this point, I'm pretty sure you're sick of reading this (and damned tired too, it's a lot to take in). But suck it up, you asked so this was my weekend.

Ummm... oh yeah, Saturday. Rusty and I get up and drag our tired butts to the storage unit that I have grown to hate. At our house right now, there are three states of being. Things are either in boxes somewhere in the house, in boxes somewhere in the attic or in boxes in the storage unit in Cincinnati. It's the not knowing which state something is in... that's the excitement that keeps me going. Anyway, we go through the rest of the stuff in storage in record time and get home. Mom takes us to the mall to get a new red fleece for Liam (seperate entry sometime later when my fingers are no longer numb from all the typing). No red fleece and it's raining making it a pain in the arse to try to pack the van at the storage place. We decide to stay until Sunday morning. Sunday morning at the storage unit, we pack the van (no, seriously... we pack that thing. The boys can barely move in the their seats) and head out. Have to stop in Mason because we left the diaper bag at Aunt Lynn and Uncle Carmine's house. Crap... when did we leave that? What day did we stop by there originally? I was there and I'm still confused. We did visit Aunt Lynn. Uncle Carmine made me drink Reisling. I think it's the first time I've had an alcoholic bev in front of my mom. I didn't really care and I'm not really a big wine drinker. Regardless, we left the bag and had to pick it up on our way out of town. Rolled into Bowie around midnight Sunday night.

SOOOOOOO. Aren't you glad you asked? Oh, yeah. Yesterday Sean was very sick - really high fever, throwing up, etc. No rest and he was up last night. So even though we're home from our Thanksgiving trip the magic of the holidays just keeps on giving [me a kick in the ass]. HAPPY HOLIDAYS!