Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
- Hasn't abadoned me.
- Comes home at night sober.
- Doesn't have 2 other families or at least a mistress and some kids.
- Doesn't expect me to work all day then clean the house, do the laundry, cook dinner, and care for the kids all by my lonesome.
- Values me as an equal.
- Respects my intelligence.
- If we have a daughter, I suspect he won't feed her less than the boys or restrict her ability to go to school.
- Puts what he sees his responsibilities are as a husband as a priority before his reputation as a man--i.e. he's more worried about what is right than about looking macho for the men.
- Doesn't sit at the market all day yapping while his woman does all the work.
- Loves me.
These might seem like really weak reasons to celebrate my man (that he hasn't abandoned me? How much of an accomplishment is that?), and believe me he's got plenty more virtues to praise, but there's a lot of men in this world who don't value women or treat them right.
So all ya married ladies, if you've got a good man who loves you respects you and treats you as he ought, don't just put ya hands up, go kiss your hubby today. (Sorry, I have "All the Single Ladies" in my head.)
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
So as to put no obstacle in my sisters' way, I will endeavor to illuminate for you all the ways in which I really am not all that cool.
- I have Indian jungle rot. When I was in India, I got infected mosquito bites that left me with some lovely leg scars. Periodically, the jungle rot (manifested in a lovely leg rash) breaks back out again if I shave. This leads me to number 2.
- My legs are usually hairy.
- To say I have the nails of an 8-year-old boy would be to insult boys everywhere. I bite my nails to the quick and have no intention of stopping. My toenails don't look much better.
- Sometimes I eat my cereal with cream.
- You don't even want to know what kinds of horribly embarassing names I shamelessly call Mike, such as googley pants. Seinfeld has nothing on me.
- I don't listen to music. Noise bothers me.
- I don't like parties. I'd rather be at home eating cereal with cream and reading Centennial. I don't even sit coolly at home watching cool shows like SYTYCD, because I'm not cool enough to have cable. Not even bunny ears.
- I own every Star Trek, Star Wars, and LOTR special edition movie. Granted, this is my husband's uncoolness, not my own, but I'm pretty sure it's infectious.
- I don't have a cell phone. Well, that's not quite true. I have the cell phone my sister used about 10 years ago that she gave me out of pity for my hopeless coollessness. Said chunky cell phone is hooked up to my parents' cell phone plan for emergencies. So a. I'm uncool that I don't have a cell phone and b. I'm super uncool that I'm 31 and mooching my parents' minutes. This also means I don't text, which means that cool kids are pretty much at a loss as to how to relate to or communicate with me.
- It bothers me when people say "who" when they should say "whom."
P.S. Ian reminded me of one more way in which I'm not that cool.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Monday, July 20, 2009
Then we got our new basement windows put in.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Last year to express my love for Mike, I posted this excellent video, which I'm still proud of, as he'll always be the Ron to my Hermione. (He gulps a lot.) I also wrote him this blog. And this blog. Wow, are you sick to death yet of hearing about him?
Nonetheless, for my 6th anniversary present, I shall give him the gift of embarrassment (my embarrassment) by posting here a poem I wrote for him on the grassy lawn of the Charolais house before moving away from him to Amsterdam.
You, my friend,
are the particular embodiment
of a thousand songs, dances and tales.
And, lucky me,
I just happened upon you,
a solemn hymn, a merry jig, a classic epic.
You, like an imp in a pimpernel, startled me--
a small, glimmering reflection
of the undying universal light.
The yellow twinkle of fireflies
dancing and darting in the twilight
of leafy green shadows.
The rich froth of
on my lips.
The smell of the
salty sea air that
wistfully whips my air.
The long, low call of
a train at night,
signaling desire and a faroff place.
Love you, Mikey.
Friday, July 17, 2009
But he touches on something I've been noticing in myself.
We've had a temp processing photos for us lately. We receive huge numbers of photos from the field, and each one needs to be loaded into a database and tagged with a bunch of info. It's kind of the perpetual headache, getting it all done, so daunting is the task.
I saw the temp in the break room one day and asked her how it was going. She said it was good, she was liking it, but that some days she just has to stand up and walk away from it. I assumed she meant the work was tedious. I responded, "Yeah, sometimes your eyes do start to cross looking at so many files!"
She said, "No, because the pictures are so hard to look at."
What I considered tedium, she had a hard time looking at without crying. What has happened to me?
Later that same day, my sister dropped by Compassion for the first time for a tour. I took her around to all the tour spots and pictures. Looking at the small "model" poverty home, she seemed surprised how many people might live in that small home. It took me off guard; I took it for granted.
Then we moved on to a big picture wall, on which there is a picture of a typical neighborhood in Manila, Philippines. The homes are stacked one on top another like a playing-card house, and are just as precarious. The alleys are narrow where children crouch to bathe. The water's edge on which their card homes are perched is littered with the detritus of plastic bags and apathy.
I look at this every day. This is normal to me. It doesn't phase me.
But Tara looked at it and seemed horrified. What my eyes brushed over unaffected, hers set on and stuck.
What has happened to me? Some amount of self-protection is necessary in my job. I couldn't get much work done blathering in my cube all day. Each day, I get a face full of poverty and read stories that make grown men cry. But will my unaffectedness eventually lead to apathy? Like the people who live in Manila's card houses who are used to what makes others shudder and don't even try to get out anymore?
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
At work, they were having auditions for a small singing group to occasionally lead worship for chapel. I like singing, so I thought I'd try out. Now, I swear I can sing just a little. I have the foofy dresses with bows on the butt from high school show choir to prove it. Not a beautiful voice, but I can stay on key...I thought.
Then I go into this audition yesterday, which, by the way, they set up right next to the cafeteria at lunch time with the doors open, thank you very much. I get up on stage to sing Amazing Grace, and wow. Let me tell you, it was like one of those awful American Idol auditions. The one in which the singer sings totally off key and you want to squint your eyes and turn your head and make it stop. Then after this performance, they say something like, "I swear I'm normally better than this," and you think to yourself, "Yeah, right, delusion-o."
That was me. Verbally embarrassing myself. And now, today, I have a whole new slew of verbal embarrassment waiting for me. I was interviewed for an article at Compassion, and at the same time they interviewed me, they took an audio-recording of me talking about my "best day" at Compassion. I didn't really know what it was for at the time and, although I abhor the sound of my recorded voice, I did it.
I didn't really know what to say and was a bit unprepared, so I just went on and on and on. I figured there is editing for that kind of thing, right? Nope. It shows up on my work's internal home page, and I hope that no one will notice it squished down in the corner. Then today, I check Compassion's external blog and what, oh what do I hear?
Oh yes, my verbal embarrassment in all its glory for all the world to hear. I'm solaced at least by the fact that after about the first minute of me going on and on and on and saying absolutely nothing, people will think to themselves, "will this lady just get on with it?" and move on. And to make everything better, there are these handy little rating buttons on the blog, o cruel world, so that all the world can vote on how they feel about my unwilling verbal incontience. Awesome.
P.S. Extra points to the one who can identify this quote: "I don't need to be set up on a blind date with a verbally incontinent spinster who smoke like a chimney, drinks like a fish, and dresses like her mother.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
There were 23 of us, a much larger group than I'm used to, so I worried that I would have enough food, but I think it was fine. I had some work people and some new friends from church. We felt loved and special that there were that many people who wanted to come.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
- 31 Flavors of Ice Cream at Baskin Robbins. I'm going to eat copious, indictable amounts of ice cream this year.
- It's the day of Halloween, my 3rd favorite day of the year...apple cider, crunchy leaves underfoot, caramel apples...
- It's the number of people (times a million) who watched the Jackson memorial. Kismet.
- It's the channel I grew up watching the Simpsons on.
- It's the number of a really cool Proverb that tells me that, as a woman, I should wear purple linen, be in real estate, grow my own wine, and hold a distaff. (Where am I going to get a distaff from?)
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
But I realize that had we never had Michael, we would have never had so many great opportunities for parody.
I would like to post an excellent video here, but Weird Al persists in his own snide distaste of misuse of his content online. So if you'd like to see one of the biggest reasons I'll miss MJ, click here.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
- Veggies and Dip: Muhumara dip, artichoke dip, and olive tapenade with crostini and crudite (carrots, celery, snow peas)
- Curry chicken salad mini sammys
- Tomato bruschetta
- Frozen watermelon pops
- Cookies (banana chocolate chip and sugar cookie)
- Coconut Key Lime Pie cupcakes
Kind of random, I know. It's based on what I felt like making and eating myself (and what I already have). Is that enough variety for a party of 25? Just don't know...
Sunday, July 5, 2009
As you've heard over and over again, I was not born with bikini-tummy, and I always need some gimmick like this or this to help me motivate myself to get fit. (Wow, I'm really noticing a trend here in my old posts. Can we say obsessed? Or maybe just fixated...)
So these bikinis will be my motivation for the next 3 months. I've been hiking a bunch in my neighborhood, coupled with butt-kicking bike riding to work. If I don't double my calorie intake because I'm so exhausted, I might actually get fit for Kauai.
- The Donut Mill is on the way.
- It's not very hard.
- It has beautiful views of the Pikes Peak area.
Here are Mike and I at the top.
We decided to watch the fireworks at the Airforce Academy. We got there ridiculously early and played Plague and Pestilence on a blanket. Then it rained. Hard. And Mike and I hid under the painting tarp we had brought while various passerbys worried for our imminent suffocation.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
This evening we took a long walk down to Starbucks, where I used a new gift card to get a Shaken Tea Lemonade. Then as we meandered back up to the house, we watched two little Bambis play. They were up on the cliffs to the right of the road, and couldn't be more than a week old. They were dark and spotted and kept bounded and leaping in circles. And all the world said, "Awwwwwww....."
This afternoon, a huge thunderstorm tore through town, so Mike had to rescue Leanna and I, stranded at work because we'd ridden our bikes. I'd been watching the lightning from my cubicle, and could swear it wasn't hitting things. It was. This is a couple minutes from our house.
Today is the big day, the release of Mike and my new book, Passport to Prayer: A Journey of Compassion, which is a small group study. Each week is themed on a different country. There are optional recipes you can create to set the mood. Then you learn a little more about that country and the needs in it. There is a Bible study time, in which you learn about what the Bible has to say relating to the issues, and then a prayer time. My prayer is that God will use it to raise awareness, get people considering other parts of the Bible, get people praying, and get people to get involved.