I LOVE Christmas Music

I have always loved music. I think it was inborn. I had some great exposure to music from the time I was tiny, so I'm sure that impacted me in some way. I don't love ALL music, but I do loves a lot of it. Christmas music is some of my most favorite. Rex won't let me listen to it year round, (and admittedly, even I would probably get sick of it right about March or April), but as soon as Thanksgiving is over, buddy, I'm all about the yuletide tunes.

Naturally, some of what I enjoy are the songs (and particular renditions of songs) that I grew up with. There are many however, that I never knew as a kid that are some of the most necessary songs for me to hear at Christmastime now. It's like it wouldn't be Christmas without those songs.

I've actually chosen a favorite Christmas song. I'm sure that those of you who know me well are picking your jaws up off the floor about now because you know that I don't choose favorites, particularly favorite songs. I like so many different songs so well that I don't like to commit to just one favorite. But, when it comes to Christmas songs, I've decided that there is one that moves me like none other, so for now, it is my absolute favorite, with many other favorites coming in close behind. It's called "O Magnum Mysterium" and it's by Morten Lauridsen. The song is an a cappella choral piece that I sang with the SWBTS Oratorio Chorus about 10 years ago, and it is breathtakingly gorgeous. If I knew how to put music on here, I would upload it, but since I don't, you should just get on YouTube and listen to it. There are many choirs that sing it on there--maybe I'll even upload the one from my CD.

I think if I had to choose one Christmas album that is my favorite, I would pick Nat King Cole's The Christmas Song. Gotta have that one, even if I don't have any of the others. Interestingly enough, neither my favorite Christmas song nor my favorite album were ones I listened to growing up. There are still plenty of those though. Maybe next time I'll make a top 10 list of my faves. That would be fun. Until then, I'm signing off and going to bed since it's late . . . again.

Tra-DISH-Un

I have always been a little put out by the whole idea of tradition for tradition's sake. But some tradition, I think, can be really good. Holidays seem to always be a time replete with traditions, at least in many families. My family always had certain traditions at Christmastime when I was young, but as I grew up, many of those have sadly gone by the wayside. As a matter of fact, I'm not sure there are any that have stood the test of time. Busyness and hectic schedules seem to be the primary enemies of those old traditions. What's more, I'm not sure Rex and I have ever established any of our own traditions for Christmas since we've been married. Every year brings something different and it's hard to make traditions stick when your plans are constantly in flux. Now that we have a child, I want that to be different. I want to have some special traditions that we share. I'm not sure yet exactly what they all will be, or how they will play out, but I am determined that we will have them.

We bought Nathan the Fisher Price Nativity this year, and gave it to him this past weekend. I wanted him to have a Christmas toy that he could play with, especially since there are so many other Christmas decorations that he can't play with. I chose the nativity because I want to use it to tell the story of Christmas--of the baby Jesus who was born that blessed night and brought light and hope to the world. I want the history to come to life for my young son and the truth of it to grow and deepen in the coming years as he hears it told again and again. He'll have visual and tactile learning as he also hears the Scriptures being read from Luke 2. And one day when he's older, I want him to be able to use the nativity to tell the story. That's one of the traditions I plan to begin with our family.

On a lighter note, Rex and I have also decided that each year we will take Nathan to the store and let him pick out a Christmas ornament of his choice. This year I actually picked one out for him--it's a miniature Tigger-in-the-Box, and Tigger actually pops out when you turn the crank. It's adorable. But next year, we'll let Nathan choose his own ornament and hang it on the tree. This is a fun way to make Christmas memories to enjoy every year, and also build Nathan's own ornament collection.

My brother and his wife were unable to come for Christmas last year, but they are definitely coming this year. We are so excited. One of the things that my brother wanted to do when they come is to celebrate some of our old family traditions. We used to always have our family Christmas on Christmas Eve. First, we'd all dress up and go to the Christmas Eve service at our church, which was always beautiful. On the way home, we'd take the scenic route and look at Christmas lights. Once we got home, we'd take some pictures in front of the Christmas tree, eat snacky-type foods and then sit around the tree and open our gifts to each other. Afterward, we always drank Braum's egg nog. So this year, in remembrance of our old traditions, we are going to try and do all those things on Christmas Eve. I imagine it will be very nostalgic, even though it will also be very different.

I'm looking for new and creative ideas for meaningful Christmas traditions and would love to hear what kinds of special things that others do for the holidays. Please share!

May I Have This Dance?

I am not a dancer. Now, behind closed doors, I'll dance with my little boy (he totally LOVES that) and I've been known to slow dance and even two-step, though a bit awkwardly, in public with my husband. But beyond that, you won't catch me on the dance floor. I don't have two left feet--I have three.

I didn't go to dances when I was in school--not Howdy dances or Homecoming dances or Christmas dances or anything. In fact, I didn't even go to my prom. I'm sure some of you just gasped in horror, but I honestly don't feel as though I missed a thing. I never had a date, and since I couldn't cut a rug with anything but scissors, I saw no point in paying good money to go to a dance by myself just to stand around and hold up the wall. No point at all.

I went to Oklahoma Baptist University during my college years, and being a Baptist college, they didn't have dances on campus--heaven forbid--because (didn't you know?) there is actually an 11th commandment and it is "Thou shalt not dance." They also didn't have what most colleges call sororities and fraternities either. They had what they called "service groups." Don't let the euphemism fool you though. They were very much still sororities and fraternities. Now, OBU would allow these service groups to sponsor dances off-campus, but they still couldn't call them "dances" because if they did, some of the trustees might stroke out and die. So, they called them "functions" which was actually short for "foot functions." Many of these functions were very casual get-togethers, open to all students, and not some formal affair (although they had those, too).

In keeping with my previous record, I arrived at my senior year of college having never attended even one of those functions. That is, until I saw a sign advertising that the Lambdas were hosting a function at the roller rink there in town. Now I had not been rollerskating in ages, and had many fond memories of doing so as a kid, and I thought that it might be very fun to go, and to get my roommates to go with me. I went back to my apartment and talked it up to my three roomies, and they got excited about it too. We all made plans to go together, and started really looking forward to having something to do on the weekend.

So, the big night came and we got ready to go. My roommate Tammy even had her own rollerskates and she brought them along so she wouldn't have to rent a pair at the rink. We pulled into the parking lot and got out, Tammy with her skates in tow. As we approached the door, the guy who was taking money for the event took one look at Tammy with her skates and said incredulously, "What are those?" Tammy said, "I brought my own skates." Then he said with a smirk, "You're not going to be needing those in there." At that moment, it dawned on the rest of us that there was not going to be any skating at that function. Only fuctioning. They just happened to be using the roller rink as a dance floor. How could we have been so stupid? Unfortunately, it didn't dawn on Tammy quite that quickly and she began arguing with the guy about why she couldn't use her own skates. Even though we really wanted to pretend that we didn't know her, we quickly ushered Tammy away and back to the car to put up her skates, explaining the situation to her as we went. At that point, we all felt really idiotic, but we decided to go on in and stay for awhile anyway, even though we were embarrassed about the misunderstanding, and disappointed about the skating. It actually ended up not being so bad. I tried to learn the Electric Slide and some other crazy line dance, but it was useless. Mostly I sat and watched everyone else. At least I had company.

So, at least I can say that I went to a function before my college days were over. Of course, I made an idiot of myself before I even set foot on the dance floor. Ain't that a trip?

Whooping It Up

Here's a little story my brother Paul told me. It makes me laugh every time I think about it.

It was finals week at the end of one of Paul's college semesters at Baylor. He and his friends had finished their finals early, and were enjoying a relaxing time throwing a football around in the courtyard of one guy's apartment complex, killing time before they headed home for the break. Sometime, amidst all the fun, Paul's friend Jason got the hiccups.

Now, Jason didn't have what you might call ordinary-sounding hiccups. Everytime he hiccupped, it sounded like a high-pitched "WHOOP!" It was completely unnatural- and hilarious-sounding. Of course, the guys couldn't resist the opportunity to mock, and so began this bizarre exchange of lyrical soprano "whoops" that reverberated across the courtyard, along with a great deal of laughter.

At some point, a couple of girls came out of an upstairs apartment and called down to the guys. They were still studying for their finals, and asked the boys if they could keep it down a bit as the noise was disturbing them. My brother and his friends apologized profusely and promised to be quieter. Then one of the girls said, "It really wouldn't be that big of a deal if it weren't for all the whooping." Again, the boys apologized, the girls went back inside, and the courtyard erupted in hilarious (but subued, so as not to disturb) laughter.

Flatulation

This story goes way back to 7th grade. My best friend Kirsten and I were lab partners in Life Science. We were always laughing (do you see a pattern here?) Kirsten could make me laugh so hard that I would pee in my pants. In fact, I probably peed in my pants more days than not during 7th and 8th grade. You'd think I'd have invested in some Depends or something. But, I digress.

So one day, we were sitting in science class and we were bored out of our minds (as we usually were in science class). I was sitting with my elbow on the table and my chin in my hand, and eventually my head dropped such that my hand was completely covering my mouth. Not an unusual position for someone who is bored. Just then, Kirsten leaned over and said something hilarious. Now, I had gotten to be an expert at laughing silently because I did it so often. But this time as I laughed, I exhaled a large amount of air right into my hand. Unfortunately, the position of my open hand was just right so that it emitted a noise that sounded like someone tooted very loudly. But not just any ole run-of-the-mill toot. It was the biggest, longest, juiciest toot you've ever heard, and it reverberated in that room such that EVERYONE heard it.

Immediately, the teacher, Miss Rankin, looked out at the class and said indignantly, "I think someone needs to excuse themselves!" Of course, I was not about to own up to anything, particularly since that wasn't at all what it sounded like. I was highly embarrassed anyway, and was just hoping beyond hope that nobody knew from whence the sound had come. We sat in the back of the classroom, so that was in my favor. Besides, Kirsten and I were laughing so hard we couldn't have said anything even if we had wanted to. After a few moments, the teacher began this long discourse about flatulation--what causes it, how it works, etc.--and for the rest of the class period, that's what she talked about. Being a Life Science teacher (and most likely a flatulator herself), I guess she was an expert. At least it was more interesting than what we were discussing previously, so I think, in some strange way, I may have been a sort of unassuming (and rather invisible) hero. I'd like to remember it that way nevertheless.

Hairball

Because I was a psych major, I had the opportunity--no, the privilege--of taking inspiring and uplifting courses like Aging and Death. Every time I went to class, it was like going to a funeral. The professor who taught it was even nicknamed Dr. Death. I'm not sure that he had ever even cracked a smile . . . at least not before having me in his class. And then there was only the one time.

My roommate Alicia and I took Aging and Death together. We figured if we were going to have to endure something that painful, we might as well suffer together. Alicia and I seemed to almost always be lauging about something. We were about as silly as they come (I think it was a defense mechanism that kicked in automatically because we had to endure such depressing lecures). This one particular day, we were sitting in class in the middle of some gosh-awful lecture, and she was laughing about something. Alicia had this great "Muttley laugh"--you know, the kind where the only real sound that comes out is a sort of wheezing noise. Now, I have friends who have nicknamed me The Woman of a Thousand Laughs, but would you believe that a Muttley laugh is not one of them?? This has greatly distressed me, and I have often tried my hardest to manufacture one. Unfortunately, I chose that particular day to do it again.

There we were in the middle of class with Dr. Death droning on about . . . well, death . . . and right then and there I fervently attempted my Muttley laugh. I mustered up my best wheeze, and was starting to feel really proud of myself until . . .

A breathy but very loud noise escaped without warning from the depths of my throat. It was pretty much as though I had just YELLED. Right there in class. In the middle of the lecture. Naturally, all eyes were instantly on me, including those of the infamous Dr. Death himself. You could seriously have heard the proverbial pin drop. What could I do--I was laughing so hard my side was splitting, but wanting to hide under the closest rock. Luckily for me, Alicia had the presence of mind to holler out through her laughter and tears, "Hairball!!!" At that moment, the class erupted in laughter, and even Dr. Death almost chuckled. It broke the uncomfortable silence and soon after, we resumed class as usual. Perhaps that was our lot in life--Alicia and me. To help a man who lived and breathed death, to grin for just a second.

Better?

Well, I finally washed my hair today, three days after my perm. I went ahead and suffered through after looking online and finding more and more stuff about the importance of waiting 72 hours. I didn't want to take any chances on damaging my hair or making it look worse. It wasn't quite 72 hours (more like 69), but I figured it would be close enough.

By the way, clean makes ALL the difference in the world. I actually had to wash it 3 times because it was so gross. The first time it didn't lather AT ALL when I put the shampoo on it. The second time, I got a little lather, but the third time was the charm. It felt so good to get all that oil and gunk out of it.

So, the good news is, once I had the opportunity to fiddle with it my self, I was able to make my hair actually look OK. I think I am going to like it after all, which is such a relief. It is very curly, yes, but it has some good body to it, and without doing anything to it at all, I think it looks better than it did before I got the perm either way. I'll play with it some more and see what else I can do with it.

Thanks for all the pointers and encouragement! You girls know how it is when your hair isn't right. It's just a great big bummer. But, things are looking up now, so YAY!

Bad Hair Day

It would be much nicer if this post was another one of those "remember whens"--a distant memory that I could look back on and sigh, or maybe even chuckle at. But alas, this is a current post and one that pains me to write.

Yesterday I got a perm. I had debated it for weeks, yea verily months, and finally bit the bullet. Last time I got a perm, it was gorgeous! I loved it from the minute I saw it and was sorry when it grew out. It was actually a home perm, given to me by my friend Kim's mom who used to be a hairdresser (she's amazing). This time, I decided not to bother Kim's mom and thought I'd splurge a little on myself (which I never do) and get a salon perm, cut and style. I went to JKS International Salons over on Camp Bowie because they had sent me a thing in the mail saying they were running a special on perms. Even though I had never been there, nor had I ever known anyone who went there, it looked like a really good salon, and I thought, what the heck! So at 3:30 yesterday, I drove to the salon, feeling a little anxious, but mostly very excited as I anticipated my new 'do. I took with me a picture of Christina Applegate which I had found on the Internet. After lots of searching, I finally found on her the hairdo I dreamed of. I showed it to the stylist and explained to her exactly what I wanted: an easy style that was low or no maintenance; something to help dry up all the oil; something to give me more body. She used the largest rollers because I didn't want it really kinky--just soft waves.

Three hours later, I sat in the stylist chair, watching helplessly as she "finished" my coiffure. To say that I was disappointed would have been a huge understatement. I actually wanted to cry. It looks very . . . well . . . poodle-ish, and also a bit frizzy. It doesn't look anything like Christina Applegate, and really, it's not at all what I wanted. I haven't been able to wash it just yet, so I don't know how it will look after I wash and fix it myself, but I haven't been able to do ANYTHING with it the way it is. The girl said not to wash it for 3 days, but I don't think I can wait that long. For one thing, it looks HIDEOUS. I haven't been able to even make it look decent (and it's too short now for a pony tail). For another thing, I picked up my baby boy today to hug and love on him and he said, "Mommy, hair STINKS." I laughed, but unfortunately it is so true. I woke up a thousand times last night smelling it. Plus, my scalp itches, and my hair just feels gross. I looked on the Internet and it said you could wash your hair 24 hours after a perm, so I figure I'll go with that.

I had been so excited to get my hair cut and permed and styled, and now I'm just really bummed out. Maybe it will get better really soon. I sure hope so. Otherwise I may invest in a closetful of hats, or perhaps I could do the whole Sinead O'Connor thing . . .

Shorts

Here are some funny little short accounts of silly little happenings in my life. Just thought I would share. Maybe they will make someone smile . . .

One afternoon when I was in high school, I was riding in the car with my friend Joanna. Suddenly, out of the blue, I exclaimed, "COWABUNGA!" for no reason (sometimes words get in my head and I just have to say them). She gave me a funny look and then we just sat in silence for a few minutes. I was lost in thought and my mind wandered to all sorts of unrelated things. Then I started thinking about cowabunga again and I seriously couldn't remember at that point if it was me or Joanna who had said it. So I turned to Joanna and asked, "Who said "cowabunga"? She looked at me like I had two heads and said, "You did!" Then I laughed and laughed but I think Joanna thought I needed mental help.

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Once when I was in college, there were a bunch of us hanging out at my apartment. Our living room was literally full of people, and there was not even a spot on the floor to sit. Rex was sitting on the arm of the couch, and I was sitting on his knee (we were dating at that point). I guess Rex was overcome with affection for me at some point because he pulled me suddenly to himself and said, "I'm going to squeeze the tootie out of you!" Well, he squeezed just hard enough that that's exactly what he did. Everyone in the room heard it, and I was absolutely mortified. Everyone was laughing with me instead of just at me , but it probably scarred me for life ;)

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When I was in middle school, I had this crazy friend who could make me laugh like none other. I think that nearly every day of school I literally wet my pants from laughing so hard. You would think I would have wised up and brought an extra pair with me each day, but no. One day we were bored in band practice--we were always bored because the director was always working with another section. Looking for something to pass the time, we started digging through our purses. I pulled out a small pill container that had aspirin and Vitamin C in it (this was in the dark ages, before you weren't allowed to bring things like that to school). So this is how it went: my friend would chew up the pills and I would laugh hysterically at the faces she made while doing so. Let me tell you, the faces one makes when chewing up Vitamin C are pretty stinkin' funny. The tablets are incredibly sour and make your whole face pucker. But the faces one makes when chewing up aspirin are even better!! Those things are terribly bitter and I don't know when I have laughed so hard! Definitely had wet pants after that.

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Well, there you go. I'll think of some more later.

I Had to Laugh

My husband really cracks me up. He's just so unassumingly funny. I think that's what really splits my sides. Most people probably wouldn't even think he's that funny, but man, I do! Sometimes he gets me laughing, and I just can't stop. A chuckle ends up turning into a guffaw. And then my stomach starts hurting and tears start running down my face and I have to lie down so I don't fall. Then I'm literally ROFL. That's when my child gives me the look--that he's about to pick up the phone and have me committed.

I made some muffins the other day. They were delicious--oatmeal date. I got this great cookbook called 500 Best Muffin Recipes and I've been trying lots of different kinds of yummy muffins. But, I digress . . .

Nathan usually loves muffins. I really thought he would be crazy about these because he loves oatmeal and he loves dates. So naturally, he should totally devour an oatmeal date muffin as soon as it hits his plate, right? Wrong. That particular day he didn't care anything for either oatmeal or dates evidently, because he only picked at his muffin and tore it into pieces. After some time I gave up trying and, not wanting his muffin to go to waste (and hoping that he might come back and eat it later), I picked up all the pieces of his uneaten muffin and put them in a container with the other leftover muffins.

Rex soon came in from mowing and sat down to eat some muffins while I was in the other room playing with Nathan. Later, he tells me, "By the way, I ate that totally mauled muffin that was in there." I said, "Oh. Well, that was Nathan's muffin, but you were welcome to it, I guess. I figured you would eat a whole one" And Rex says, "Oh, well I was wondering why that muffin was so mauled. I just thought it came apart for some reason." I am laughing even as I type this. I don't know why that struck me as funny, but it really did. In fact, I nearly died laughing. I think part of the reason was that it reminded me of a past incident that was even more hilarious.

Rex and I were eating some kind of meat for dinner. Might have been steak, might have been chicken. I don't remember because I've slept since then. Anyway, as I was eating mine, I ran across a gristly piece that I couldn't chew up. After working hard on it for some time, I decided that it was futile and I ended up discreetly spitting it out onto the side of my plate. Now, when you've been married a good long while, that kind of thing is not that big of a deal--I could have even showed it to Rex and grossed him out with it. But, I didn't want to make a scene out of it, or even mention it because I think we were in the middle of an important conversation. I try not to spit food out very often anyway because it is gross (even to me), but sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures.

So, we were talking and enjoying each other's company at the dinner table, as we usually do, and at one point I looked down to see that the piece of meat that I had spit onto my plate was not there. I looked to see if I had inadvertently gotten it mixed up with the rest of the meat still on my plate, or underneath some vegetable I was working on. Nothing. The piece was just GONE. Disappeared into thin air. This really bothered me because I couldn't figure out where in the heck a gristly, chewed up piece of meat would just . . . well . . . GO. I finally decided to ask Rex. I'm not sure why I thought he might know ANYTHING about it, but it was such a mystery to me that I just HAD to ask. When there was a brief lull in the conversation, I said, "Hey, I know this is a strange question, but did you just happen to see where that piece of meat that was sitting right there on my plate went? It just disappeared and I can't find it." And he said, "Yes--I ate it." I imagine that the look of horror on my face was a little disturbing and I yelled, "EEEWWWW! I had chewed that piece up and spit it out!" He was a tad bit grossed out, but then said, "Oh well." with a funny sort of resolve. Then I burst out laughing until my sides nearly split wide open.

So part of my laughter the other day was in remembering how my garbage disposer of a husband ate the chewed up piece of meat. The muffin incident was not nearly as funny (or as gross), but for some reason, it still made me laugh. I think I've added several years to my life getting such a kick out of Rex. I knew I married him for some reason. ;)

More Product Reviews

Here are some baby product reviews that I have posted on Amazon.com:

Fisher Price Healthy Care Booster Seat
Booster seat and portable high chair all in one! Awesome! (four stars)

I LOVE this booster chair! We actually use it more right now as a portable high chair, and have been so pleased with its performance. We take it to church luncheons, restaurants, other people's houses, etc. and always get positive remarks about how handy it is. We have put it on a wide variety of different chairs and never had any trouble securing it to any of them. It's very easy to set up and take down, and folds neatly for compact carrying. It has two trays, so if you're traveling and can't clean the first tray before you need to use it again, the second is ready to go for the next meal. I love that it has the snap-on cover to keep the tray clean during transit. The cover also keeps crumbs and food particles put after use too, if you can't clean it right away. The whole thing is also very easy to clean. The trays are diswasher safe. Since the chair can be used with or without the tray, when my son gets bigger and graduates out of his high chair, this will be the booster seat he will use at the table everyday.

The one thing I wish it had is a latch or something to keep the white tray attached to the blue one a little more tightly. It comes off very easily and now that my son is a little older, he can pop it off himself, and he does. We have gone to using the blue tray more often for this reason. That's the only reason I gave it four stars instead of five. Overall, I love this chair and would recommend it to anyone.



Fisher Price Power-Plus Plug-In Swing
A huge disappointment (one star)

We were so excited to find a swing that actually plugs in so that we could save a lot of money not buying batteries. It was super cute, and my son LOVED swinging in it. However, the first disappointment was that even though there were supposed to be 6 different speeds, there was very little difference in each one. I have read the reviews that some found the high speed way too fast, but we found that even on high, the swing didn't move that much. The second disappointment was that after only a couple of months, the swing just stopped altogether. Fisher Price sent us 2 different motors (all free of charge--kudos to their customer service), but we had the same problem every time. The swing would just get slower and slower until it would completely stop. At this point, my son weighed 14 pounds, and it seemed that he was just too heavy for the swing to move him. However, the weight limit on the swing said 25 pounds, so it should have worked just fine. We ended up sending the swing back to Fisher Price and they sent us a full refund. I hope they can improve on these flaws by the time we have our next baby, because a plug-in swing is such an ideal invention.


Diaper Champ by Baby Trend
This product STINKS! (one star--if you could give a zero or a negative, I would)

I have been so disappointed in my Diaper Champ. It came highly recommended by a good friend, and the fact that it used normal grocery bags rather than expensive specialty bags was a huge draw. However, we have tried everything and still this pail stinks up our son's nursery. And it's not just a faint smell. The stench is so powerful that it practically knocks you down when you open the door. It doesn't matter how often we empty or clean and sanitize it, nothing seems to help. We would have to empty it after every diaper change, and that sort of defeats the purpose of having a diaper pail. Go with something different. It would be worth the extra money to get rid of the odor.


Pampers Sensitive Baby Wipes
Won't buy anything else! (five stars)

After trying several brands of baby wipes (and hoping to get by with some cheaper ones), I have latched onto these Pampers Sensitive wipes and keep buying them every time. The other wipes just weren't doing the trick. I tried Huggies and some store brands, and found that I was having to spend lots of time scrubbing my little one's behind to get it clean. With the Pampers Sensitive, I can wipe much more gently and get him clean much more quickly (and quickly is of utmost importance with a toddler!) Also, we have had no problems with diaper rash since I have been using these wipes. I don't even care that much for the regular Pampers wipes, but these are great, and I would highly recommend them. I wish they were a little cheaper, but I just try to look for sales and coupons. Best wishes!


Fisher Price Amazing Animals Sing and Go Choo-Choo
One of the best toys we own! Great for children of all ages. (five stars)

We bought this train when our son was 6 months old, after watching him thoroughly enjoy one at a cousin's house. He loves it and we are thrilled that we bought it. He has played with it ever since, and even more than any other toy he has. Not only that, but every child that has come to our house has enjoyed it, whether they were 6 months old up to 9 years! It simply captivates children of all ages. This thing is super cute and extremely durable. Even after repeated abuse (beating on it, throwing it, standing on it, even puking on it ;), it runs like a top! It even runs great on carpet! The batteries last surprisingly long on it too. In a year and a half, I think I've only changed them twice, and considering how much it is played with, that is remarkable.

It is a noise-maker, with songs and sounds, but there is a low and high volume switch (as well as an off switch) and the low setting is very tolerable. The music is really great--anything gets annoying after it's repeated many times of course, but all things considered, these songs are very well done and I enjoy them.

Just a side note that has probably already been mentioned: if you get all the train cars and hook them up, the engine isn't quite strong enough to pull them all. And then, it may do better on a hard floor rather than carpet--I haven't actually tried that. Nevertheless, that hasn't ruined the experience for my child in any way. He loves this toy, and the animals all by themselves are enough to entertain for long periods.

One more small thing: you have to buy all the rest of the train pieces and extra animals separately. This can get pretty pricey. I have seen a few deals where you can get a couple of cars and animals in a multi set for a better price. We had grandparents and friends who were encouraged to add pieces for my son's birthday and Christmas, so it actually worked out quite well. All in all, this toy gets a A+ from our family, and I would totally recommend it to anyone!

Product Reviews

I like to read product reviews--Amazon is great for that. I like to know if something I am considering buying is really worth the money and all it's cracked up to be. I have shied away from more than a few purchases based on negative reviews. I like writing reviews too. I figure, I'm helped by those that I read, so why not help someone else who may read mine.

For the last several months I have been a Bzz Agent with BzzAgent.com. It's awesome. They send me free products and I tell other people about them, and then I get MyPoints which I can redeem for free stuff later. Can't beat that--free stuff now and free stuff later. What's not to like?? Anyway, I thought I might review a few of the products that I have received lately, in case anyone is interested.

I got a Scrubbing Bubbles Action Scrubber starter kit recently. Basically, it's a foam handle with velcro on the bottom and it attaches to these disposable cleaning pads that have Scrubbing Bubbles cleaner built into them. You attach a pad, wet it, and then start cleaning. When you're done, you take off the pad and throw it away. They're mainly for tubs and showers, tile, sinks, countertops, etc., although the sky's the limit as to what you can come up with to clean with them. I tried it out just a few days ago on my bathtubs and sinks. It's not bad. It's handy that you don't have to use an aerosol spray (what I usually use), and I had hoped that the fumes would have been much reduced, even to the point that my overly sensitive, asthmatic dad could tolerate them. While there was no overspray or any particles from a spray can, the fumes from that little pad were still very strong--strong enough that they choked me up. The cleaning pad seemed to do a great job on my guest bathtub (which wasn't all that dirty) and I cleaned the sink and counter with it too. The foam handle was comfortable and easy to use. When I took it to my much dirtier master bathtub, however, I was disappointed. It didn't do a thing on mildew stains, and I had to REALLY scrub to get the soap scum off. Even then, it didn't remove it all. And I wasn't that impressed with it's performance on body oils and grime. Now, I have to say that the claims didn't say anything about removing mildew stains (that usually requires a bleaching agent), but they boasted a lot about soap scum and dirt and grime. I'm here to tell ya--it's not that great. I also had a little trouble with the pad staying on the velcro. When I would scrub pretty hard (which I had to do), the pad would start to come off. It was pretty annoying. I'm not sure how much these little buggers cost, but I personally don't think they're worth looking into unless you're looking for something that's easy to transport/travel with. I think for home use, I'll just stick with my spray can and my scrub brush.

Even more recently, Bzz Club sent me some Max Factor makeup. LOVE that! There were several products: ColorGenius Blush in Peaches with a ColorGenius makeup brush, Lipfinity lipcolor (in Burnished) and moisturizing topcoat duo, and Volume Coture Mascara in Rich Black. I was so excited about trying out makeup--I hate buying stuff not having any idea ahead of time if it's even going to look good on me or be the right color. First of all, I have to say that the blush was a bust. It looked like just the right color for me, but no matter how much I brush on, I still can't even tell that I've used it. It's like once you get it on your face there's no color to it, which totally defeats the purpose of having BLUSH. So, that one didn't fly. I really like the lipcolor though. Burnished is a great color, and it definitely stays on until you take it off. The moisturizing topcoat is fabulous (and it smells nice, too!) because the lipcolor is very drying, but you have to reapply it really often. I found that my lips stayed pretty dry, even with my usual lip balm over the lipcolor. I have to use makeup remover to get the lipcolor off, but I really like the fact that it stays on even while you're eating and drinking, so I don't mind. I like the mascara too. It has a different kind of wand that really separates your lashes well. If they make it in waterproof, I'll probably buy it--I really like to have waterproof mascara.

So, there you go. I'll review some more products another time. I have a bunch of reviews of baby items that I'll post soon in case any of you are interested in my 2 cents about those things.

Warped Humor

OK. Here's a funny short story that some crazy guys at my high school wrote for the school literary publication. I didn't really know these guys--they were upperclassmen and we ran in different circles--but I wish I had because their sense of humor and mine are frighteningly similar. The day I read this story for the first time, I was sitting in Spanish class. I'm sure that Senora Mercer was teaching something important about conjugating verbs, but I was lost in the hilarity of this piece. I seriously laughed so hard that I was afraid I might either get kicked out of the classroom or wet my pants. Good thing I was the teacher's pet . . . and wearing dark jeans! ;) I realize that some of you won't appreciate the silliness of this little tale. Most of my high school friends didn't either. But my brother and I STILL laugh at it, and Rex and I quote portions of it all the time. It really is funny. Hope you enjoy it!

A long time ago (about a week), there was this giant killer cockroach that had one big eye; it looked kind of lie a basset hound’s eye. Now this roach always got into the Folger’s Instant Coffee grounds and laid eggs. There was no way in the world to tell the difference between the grounds and the eggs.

One morning, this really ugly girl with one eye bigger than the other and a mustache so bushy it turned orange, red, and brown in autumn, got up and fixed herself poached eggs and coffee. She noticed that some of the coffee grounds wouldn’t dissolve, no matter how hard she stirred.
She soon got tired of stirring, and her coffee got cold. She went to the cabinet to get some Kool-Aid and saw the killer cockroach sucking on a can of Raid with Kenny Rogers and Chuck Mangione. Now Chuck had these really cool looking side burns and a nose the color and shape of a kidney bean; the reason being, that Kenny had a super sucking vacuum cleaner hose hooked up to Chuck’s nose. Kenny cut the vacuum hose and opened it up. Inside he found meat, leather, granite, dye, a contemporary music collection, and, right from the sculptors at the Franklin Mint, the Civil War Chess Set. He noticed the etched strength in Lee’s face and a soldier’s bed roll. He also saw money. Lots of crisp, green money.

The roach seemed to be broke, so he ate everyone, including the ugly girl. He should never have eaten her, for she hadn’t trimmed her mustache in a week. The roach choked on that mustache.

Things I Really Enjoy

Well, today I ditched the Top Ten idea and am just going with a list of things I enjoy. I decided to counter the whole pet peeve thing with something positive (to prove I'm not totally neurotic--wait, does actually saying that make it backfire on me?) I couldn't come up with ONLY ten things I enjoy, and the list is not exhaustive, I'm sure (or in any particular order). So here they are. Things I really enjoy:

1. Playing with and loving on my baby boy
2. Belly laughing until it hurts
3. Sleeping in
4. Hammocks
5. Photographs (particularly of family and friends)
6. Chai latte (hot or iced)
7. Christmas (my favorite time of year)
8. Music
9. Cookies right from the oven (and slightly under-done!)
10. Sunsets and rises
11. Board games
12. Heart-to-heart talks with friends
13. Homemade bread
14. Mountains
15. Waterfalls
16. Homemade greeting cards
17. Vegging with my hubby
18. Candlelight dinners
19. Phone calls from my sweetie for no reason
20. Traveling
21. Cheesecake (and just about anything else with cream cheese in it)
22. Dance Dance Revolution
23. Reminiscing with friends and family
24. Outback Steakhouse
25. Reconnecting with old friends
26. Chocolate
27. Old cartoons
28. Snuggling
29. Hot chocolate with marshmallows
30. Roasting marshmallows and eating smores
31. Homemade ice cream
32. Finding amazing bargains (on things I need)
33. Finding the perfect gift for someone
34. Braum’s Egg Nog
35. Watching Nathan dance and play and grow and learn
36. Scrapbooks
37. Worship
38. Writing
39. Bumper boats
40. Jacuzzis and hot tubs

Top Ten Pet Peeves

Top Ten lists are always sort of fun. I don't really get into David Letterman's Top Ten lists, but then again I don't get into anything David Letterman. But other Top Ten lists can be entertaining, and you can learn a lot about someone by their Top Tens. I decided to start with my pet peeves and soon discovered I had more than ten (OK, so I'm easily annoyed). So I picked the top ten most irritating and then added another list of ten honorable mentions. I should point out that neither list is in any particular order, and certain things might jump from one list to another at any given moment. (Seriously, do I need therapy?)

Top Ten Pet Peeves
1. Bad hygiene--this encompasses a lot of things: when people don't wash their hands before eating and after using the bathroom or working outside; I have family members who feed chips and crackers to their dogs and let them lick their fingers and then they put their hands right back into the bag or box that everyone else is eating from--GROSS!; when people stink like B.O. because they don't bathe or don't do their laundry or don't use deodorant
2. Noisy eaters--when people smack and slurp their food
3. When people (sometimes even strangers) come up and want to touch my baby's hands
4. Bratty children and the parents who won't control them
5. Cat or dog hair everywhere, and especially if it gets all over me, and to add to this one--when people let their cats or dogs jump on me or climb all over me or even worse, lick me
6. Long lines at a store and not enough checkers
7. When people use foul language around me and my family, especially my child
8. When people smoke in public places and I can't avoid it--not only that, but we have neighbors that go out into their backyard to smoke and it wafts over into our yard. It's so bad that can't even enjoy our own backyard because I am highly allergic. We can't even leave our windows and doors open because the smoke comes inside the house.
9. Girls and women who don't wear enough clothes in public. This also encompasses several things such as: when they don't (but clearly should) wear a bra in public; when their thong or other underwear is showing (some people actually intentionally show theirs--what is that about??)
10. Telemarketers

Honorable Mentions:
1. Spam email, particularly the ones that have porn in them or want you to enlarge some part of your body (usually a part I don't even have)
2. When someone spoils a movie I want to see by telling me about the ending or key scenes
3. When people don't flush the toilet in public restrooms, or they pee on the seat and don't wipe it off--or even worse, they leave their used sanitary products lying around
4. Littering
5. When guys leave the toilet seat up
6. When people walk down the middle of a road or aisle at the store and won't move out of the way--this is particularly annoying when there are large groups of people who are walking together and they stretch out across the entire aisle so there is NO way you can go around them
7. When people drive under the speed limit for no good reason, and when they drive slowly in the fast lane
8. When people put their little kids on the phone to talk to me for long periods of time
9. When people who are sleeping in the same room as I am set an alarm clock to wake up much earlier than I plan to, but then let the alarm go off for a long time before turning it off, or keep pushing the snooze button over and over again
10. When people put their gunky dishes that still have food on them into my sinkful of clean, soapy water

Faith Is Living with the Questions

Today I watched Steven Curtis Chapman and his family give a really powerful interview on Good Morning America's website, talking very honestly about the loss of their 5-year-old little girl a few months ago. She was tragically killed when her older brother accidentally struck her with an SUV in their driveway. It was all over the news, and I think this was the first time that the family had come out to publicly speak about it. It was very emotional, and very inspiring. They are truly a testimony of God's grace and faithfulness.

Something that SCC said that really hit home for me was about how just because you are a person with strong faith doesn't mean that you don't have questions--sometimes lots of them. In fact, he believes that faith is living with the questions.

That statement struck such a chord with me that I grabbed a pencil and wrote it down. I feel like that's exactly the point to which I have come. Living with the questions. Being OK with the fact that most of those questions will likely never have answers. But having faith just the same, in spite of all those questions and the absence of answers. I have journeyed a long way to get to this point, and without a doubt haven't "arrived" at any gigantic epiphony just yet, but at least I have been able to find peace in the midst of it all. And that's huge for me.

A song that I have loved from the moment I first heard it is Joy Williams' "You Know Better Than I." For a long time, it was kind of the ballad of where I wanted to be. I think now though, it describes more of where I am. It goes like this:

I thought I did what's right.
I thought I had the answers.
I thought I chose the surest road,
But that road brought me here.
So I put up a fight and told You how to help me.
And just when I had given up,
The truth is coming clear.

For You know better than I.
You know the way.
And I've let go the need to know why,
'Cause You know better than I.

If this has been a test,
I cannot see the reason.
But maybe knowing I don't know
Is part of getting through.
I try to do what's best,
And faith has made it easy
To see the best thing I can do
Is put my faith in You.

For You know better than I.
You know the way.
And I've let go the need to know why,
'Cause You know better than I.

I saw one cloud and thought it was the sky.
I saw a bird and thought that I could follow.
But it was You that taught them how to fly.
If I let You reach me, will You teach me?

For You know better than I.
You know the way.
I've let go the need to know why.
I'll take what answers You supply.
'Cause You know better than I.

Accident Waiting to Happen

Yes, that's me. Accident prone to the nth degree. I don't know why, but stuff just seems to seek me out and trip me up. Literally. One of my friends just sent me a piece of flair on Facebook that says "I trip over flat surfaces." That definitely describes yours truly. My dad was asking me the other day where I got all the bruises on my legs. I don't even know. There were a couple I didn't even know I had that were really dark and ugly, and then a bunch of other smaller ones. I think that getting them is so commonplace for me that I don't even notice anymore. I have a permanent knot and discoloration on one of my shins from running into the dishwasher door so many times when it's open.

Just this last week I have attempted (though not intentionally) to knock myself out three different times. Currently, I am nursing a rip-roaring headache from my most recent attempt. I still have a very tender, bruised eyebrow from the first run-in (no pun intended) with the closet doorjamb. I'm not sure how I misjudged things, but I didn't quite make it out of the closet before ramming my head into the jamb. Yesterday . . . or maybe the day before (see, I think I've even given myself amnesia), I was cleaning out some drawers in Nathan's bedroom. I bent to put some things in his bottom drawer, and came down square between the eyes on the upper drawer which I had left pulled out, like an idiot. Today, I got a dryer sheet out of the cabinet above the washing machine. Why I didn't simply close the cabinet door is beyond me. I leaned in to grab the rest of the laundry out of the washer and nearly impaled my head on the corner of the cabinet door. I think that one hurt worse than either of the previous two incidents.

As if bashing my head into things weren't enough, I've also had other self-inflicted injuries this last week. I bent my thumbnail back trying to open a new container of margarine, and it broke off and bled. That thing's been sore for several days now, and I whacked it again on something just yesterday which hurt like the dickens. I slammed two fingers in the filing cabinet drawer and bruised my fingernails. I knocked one ankle on the gate that goes into the kitchen, and the other one on my parents' ice cream freezer which is sitting on the floor in the kitchen. I stepped on one of Nathan's little shaped pegs and bruised my heel, and pinched my thumb putting some stuff away in the kitchen. And then I burned my tongue on dinner last night which I KNEW good and well was too hot to put in my mouth. Moron.

I have to say, none of my little accidents required an emergency room visit or stitches or traction or anything like that, so I have to be thankful for that! A guy at our church cut his finger with a chainsaw last week--at least my injuries didn't involve anything like that! However, I am thinking about just getting in bed and staying there for several days so I can heal up without doing any further damage to myself. Of course, I have fallen out of bed before and really hurt myself, so there's no guarantees that bed is going to be a safe place for me either. Maybe I need therapy! I'm just hoping I can make it through the weekend in one piece. ;)

What's UP . . . Besides the Sky

I'll interrupt all the reminiscing and silly stories to bring you an actual current blog post, partially because I haven't done one in awhile, and partially because I couldn't think of another story right away. Rex and I thought of several the other night, but I didn't write them down and now I can't remember what they were. Story of my (forgetful) life.

So, I have been eBaying these last couple of weeks like CRAZY. I went to the VF Factory Outlet in Mineral Wells a couple of weeks ago and bought a ton of backpacks to sell--over $1000.00 worth. That's the most I've ever bought at one time. I scared myself a little. Rex was all proud of me because he's always trying to get me to buy more stuff. His theory is that the more I buy, the more I sell. That is true, and the main basis for my large purchase this time. However, I hate to have a garage full of backpacks that I can't get rid of, and that's my biggest fear when it comes to buying stuff. I can take what I don't sell back to the store, but I hate to have to take an entire carload of things and return them. And don't you know they would hate to see me coming. But hopefully, I'll sell every one of them and not have to worry about returning anything. I sold 20 packs last week, and I've already sold 2 this week. The closer we get to the start of school, the more I should sell, and the higher the prices will be (hopefully). That's how it's been in the past, anyway.

I also found some strollers at Big Lots that I've sold before and made some good money on. I bought 5 of them and have listed them this week also, along with a few odds and ends that I had in my inventory. I spent all day yesterday working--shopping, packaging items, shipping them, and listing more. I have 44 items listed right now, and many of those are multiples, so I'm looking forward to having a good profit week. I may return to the outlet mall on the weekend to exchange some of the packs that aren't selling for styles that are. I'll just have to see how things are going at that time.

I found a precious few items in my LTD catalog that I may try to buy and sell. In the past, they have always had a ton of really great Christmas items that I have bought and made some good money on. Last year, pickin's were slimmer, but this year is the worst I've seen. They didn't have that much Christmas stuff at all, and nothing much I felt I could use. There are some other things that I'm hoping will do well. One thing about catalog orders--you can't really return those items unless you have a good reason and then you have to pay the return shipping, which isn't worth it. So, I'm very hesitant about the things I order from them. There have been a few times when I've gotten stuck with some things, and I hate that.

Well, at this point I'm really procrastinating because I don't want to go in and fix dinner. I'm not sure what we're even having yet, which is not a good thing considering it's already 4:45pm. I have several new recipes I've been wanting to try, and some great old standbys too, but I just don't know what I'm in the mood to make or eat. I sure wish I enjoyed cooking. It would make that part of things so much nicer. Instead, I endure it. Oh well, at least I do cook. Lots of women who hate to cook just don't ever do it. I need to remind my husband of that.

The Proposal

Here's a quick little story.

Rex and I met at Oklahoma Baptist University where we both went to college. The fall after I graduated, we went back up to OBU for Homecoming (seems like I had a Handbell reunion or something) and Rex chose that weekend to "pop the question." He thought it would be neat to be back at the place where we first met for that momentus occasion.

So, one evening we were strolling across campus and came to a set of park benches. It was there that he got down on one knee, pulled out the beautiful engagement ring that he had picked out himself, and asked me to marry him. I said yes, of course, and after he placed the ring on my finger, we stood up and embraced. As Rex hugged me, he looked over my shoulder in time to see a small black and white animal coming toward us. Suddenly he yelled, "SKUNK!!!!" Not, "Hey, there's a skunk." or "I think we should get out of here because we might get sprayed by that skunk right there." It was "SKUNK!!!!" at the top of his lungs.

Now, of course an exclamation like that sent me into orbit. I nearly mowed Rex down in my attempt to get away as fast as possible because, according to all the yelling, that skunk was rabid AND was carrying bubonic plague . . . along with some very stinky perfume. I think I could have outrun Michael Johnson, gold shoes and all. Rex recovered quickly from eating my dust, and caught up to me as we reached the car. We checked to see if the skunk had stayed on our tails, but saw no sign of him, so we felt like it was safe to laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

Needless to say, our romantic moment was superceded by something quite unexpected and quite unforgettable!

Sent From Heaven

It was Choir Tour 1988. We went to California that year, with a few stops and singing engagements along the way, and we were on the return trip, again with more engagements along the way. We were traveling I-40 east to Flagstaff where we were to do a concert at a nursing home, and we were running late. I'm not sure if they just misjudged the time or how it happened, but we were in a big rush to get there.

We usually took enough people on our Choir Tours that it was necessary to charter a bus and also take our church van along. Our Music Associate devised a rotation schedule that allowed for various chaperones to take turns driving the van, and a different group of choir members would ride each time as well. For this particular leg of the journey, I happened to be riding the van with 3 of my girlfriends. Dr. Bruce Leafblad who was the distinguished professor of Music and Worship at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, happened to be our driver that afternoon, with his lovely wife riding shotgun. Now, Dr. Leafblad is one of the most highly esteemed, respected (and respectable) and godly men I have ever known. Little did we know until we took that trip with him, that he is also crazy as a loon! The van and bus were both equipped with CB radios for communicating between them, and Dr. Leafblad humorously gave himself the CB handle, "Loose Bruce and the 5 Fems." We had a hilarious time with the Leafblads on the van that day.

Sometime into the long drive, I started feeling potty pangs. Now, I have a small bladder (if you don't know that by now, you really don't know me very well), but fortunately for me, I do have what I call "bladder walls of steel." However, even steel will give when subjected to undue amounts of pressure. As the minutes wore on and the psi inside my bladder began to increase dramatically, I began to feel a sense of desperation, but I remained calm as I asked "Loose Bruce" for an ETA. When I heard, "About an hour and a half," calm and collected went right out the van window and I began sweating profusely. My friend Malinda was also beginning to feel a serious urge to go, and pretty soon we were both in a state of distress.

I don't know if any of you have ever traveled 1-40 in that part of Arizona, but there are long stretches (the one we were on being one of them) where there is absolutely NOTHING out there, unless you count the tumbleweeds. There are no towns, no gas stations, no rest stops, no bushes, no nothing. In fact, you can see for miles and miles out there because there is literally nothing to block your view. Mrs. Leafblad combed the map for any sign of life, but came up short. I suggested the idea of stacking a few tumbleweeds together and going behind them, but everyone discouraged me from doing that. At this point, I was lying down to reduce the pressure on my bladder, and my friends were furiously searching underneath all the seats for a Coke can, a water bottle, or even an empty Ziploc bag that I might be able to use (yes, I was that desperate), but everyone had done much too good a job of keeping the van spic and span (darn them!) and thus left me in a serious lurch.

So I started praying HARD for some relief, and everyone else kept their eyes peeled in hopes a decent-size bush might pop up from the desert floor. My eyeballs were just beginning to turn yellow, when suddenly something materialized on the horizon. It was still a ways off, but you could see it, outlined against the Arizona sky. It was some kind of structure, and it was like the heavens above were peeled back and the sun's rays were shining on it such that it glowed. Dr. Leafblad floored the gas so that we could zoom ahead of the lagging bus. As we got closer, we could see that there were two porta-potties (one for me and one for Malinda), just stuck right out there on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere--relief was literally in sight!! I could hear a chorus of angels (with some mighty good sopranos) singing over us as we drew nearer and nearer.

Now, would you believe that these were the CLEANEST porta-potties I have ever seen in my whole life?? I'm not sure they had ever been used. They didn't stink, and they had plenty of toilet paper! Of course, I don't think I would have cared one way or the other. I have never felt more relief than I did when I sat my rear down on that porta-potty seat and let my bladder loose.

You can believe what you wish, but my story is that I prayed for an end to my misery, and God answered by sending those porta-potties, straight from heaven. I seriously believe that he opened up the sky and WHAMMO--there were those two porta-potties, brand spanking new, ready for me and Malinda. How else do you explain two spotlessly clean porta-potties smack dab in the middle of nowhere Arizona just where we needed them? Even more so, how else do you explain the choir of angels singing in that very spot? Hey, miracles happen, people.

Wake Up, Little Susie!

I was reminded last night of a funny incident that happened not too long after Rex and I got married.

We share a king-sized bed, which is wonderful because it's big enough that we can pretty much have our own sleeping space without having to touch each other. I am all about that because even though I like to snuggle when I'm awake, I need my space when I'm sleeping (unless I'm freezing in the middle of winter, but that's a different story).

One night, I was sleeping rather soundly, when suddenly I felt this very warm and fuzzy thing on my neck and throat. Now I was asleep, mind you, so rational thought was not the first thing going for me. All I could think of was that there must have been a furry animal in my bed, crawling on my neck!!! YIKES!!! I immediately freaked out and began whacking the animal repeatedly to remove it from my body, and if possible, my bed. Instantly, my husband yelled, "Hey! What are you doing??" At that moment, I woke up enough to realize that I was not in fact whacking a furry animal, but instead I was pommeling my husband's head. Don't ask me how, but evidently Rex had traveled over to my side of the bed and gotten the back of his head on my neck.

I apologized profusely for the mistake and for the pommeling, and then we had a good laugh out of it. It's still a really funny memory we share. Thankfully, Rex has kept his hairy head to himself ever since then, and I haven't had to worry about any more incidents like that.

Hammock Amok

Youth Camp was always a fun time. I had a really great and creative youth minister who designed and orchestrated our own youth camps. They were really awesome, and very spiritually refreshing. They were also full of crazy and memorable moments.

One year someone brought a couple of hammocks to camp. There were some trees near the cabins that were just perfect for setting up these hammocks, and there were many of us who took full advantage of the fact that they were there. I, for one, love hammocks and could quite possibly live in one. So I spent my share of time (or perhaps more than my share) hammocking that week.

One afternoon during free time, my friends and I were hanging out (where else) by the hammocks. Because there were only two, we were taking turns getting lost in the reverie of hammock-laying. When it came my turn, my friends got this outrageous notion that it would be hilarious fun to swing me in the hammock. That sounded pretty downright exciting, and I was all for it. I decided to flip over on my stomach and enjoy the ride face-down. The hammock was made of a green mesh and I threaded my fingers through the holes in the netting for a firmer hold in case things got a little wild. It was pretty stinking exhilirating to be in that position, watching the ground come and go, and feeling the wind in my hair as the girls swung me higher, higher, higher. I was having an absolute ball until . . .

. . . until one of the ties came undone from the tree to which it had been attached.

Now, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about when I say that at that point, everything began to run in slow motion. For a moment I was airborne and it was like I was in suspended animation. While I hung there in midair, all I could think about was Wile E. Coyote and then a little tune came trickling through my head as if from far away, "She flies through the air with the greatest of ease . . ." Then UUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRCH!!!!! The other end of the hammock which was securely tied to the opposite tree pulled me back down to earth (and the dirt and rocks below) with a great thud. From my perspective, it was as though the ground came up and smacked me in the face.

Even though it hurt like the dickens, all I could think about was how funny that must have looked, and I lay in a heap on the ground amongst the green mesh just laughing hysterically. My friends saw me shaking and feared that I had been badly injured, but when they realized I was only laughing, they all joined in because, well, it DID look very funny. When I got control of myself enough to survey the damage, I realized that I had scraped most of the skin off the upper part of one of my arms, and a big section of skin was also missing from my hip. The top button had popped off my shirt, and one of my earrings had come out--I think I actually found the button, but the earring must have gone rogue. We never did uncover it. I got a bandage for my hip and some antiseptic spray for my arm--oh, and I changed shirts--and I was good as new. The next day, I noticed that there were bruises on my fingers where they were threaded through the netting on the hammock. Yet another "war wound" from my crazy ride! My friends and I have laughed about this incident for years. Some of us are still laughing. It hasn't deterred me from loving hammocks, but I haven't let anyone swing me in one since. I do think the moral of this story is not that one should avoid swinging in a hammock. It's all about double-checking the ties.

Ah, Memories

I thought it might be fun to share some stories from the past. I'm thinking of writing a book of my memoirs someday, and this might give me a start--who knows? I used to get requests for my stories when we were on handbell tour, and perhaps they still might serve to entertain someone.

I was thinking the other day about college days, particularly the evil and dreaded "Civ" class that all sophomores were required to take. "Western Civilization," as uncool collegiates called it (everyone else called it "Civ"), was a combination of history and literature, the idea being that you would study the literature of the time period in history that you were also studying at the same time. The class periods for Civ were extra long, almost like two in one, and they were team taught by a history and a literature professor together. And they were extremely PAINFUL. Everyone hated Civ.

When it came time for me to sign up for Civ, my friends and I were told that we should try to get Crouch and Mullins because they were the best professors. They, we were led to believe, were the ones that would make Civ more interesting and more bearable. My roommate Alicia and I decided to take the class together, and we were determined to get Crouch and Mullins no matter what. At registration time, wouldn't you know, the only time Crouch and Mullins were teaching Civ was at 8:00am in the morning. We fully believed we were doing the right thing by voluntarily signing up for Civ at the earliest hour because, well, it was going to be worth it. What kind of idiots were we?? The worst kind. Once classes started, we soon began to discover that someone had fed us a load of poppycock. And it tasted BAD. I think Crouch and Mullins were just the opposite of what we had been told. They were the dryest of the dry. The dullest of the dull. The awfullest of the awful. They were two of the . . . no, maybe THE two biggest reasons why every sophomore at OBU dreaded Civ like the plague. Yes, it was THAT bad.

The chairs in our Civ class were fixed in a horseshoe pattern, and they were sort of stadium style. There were only two chairs in the each of the two top rear corners, and with the stadium seating, they were higher than all the rest. Those were the two chairs Alicia and I chose for our long semester of Civ. Now, to get to those chairs, we had to basically scoot by and climb over all the rest of the people in the class. This was particularly unfortunate because we were late to class EVERY DAY. I was always a very punctual kind of gal, but Alicia . . . well, she was not. I won't go into all the reasons why I waited for her every day, but suffice it to say, I feel very sure that everyone in the class hated us.

As if signing up for an 8:00am Civ class wasn't already crazy enough, I showed even greater idiocy by never getting enough sleep. I was the typical college stupid, I mean student, staying up late every night often just for the heck of it. Granted, some of those nights I was up studying, but I remember once just staying up all night for fun and arriving at the local donut shop when it opened. Not the brightest light on the strand. Now, when you're as sleep-deprived as I was, a loud rock and roll concert or even the fire alarm can lull you into dreamland. But Crouch and Mullins at 8:00am? I might as well have taken a bottle of Valium and a swig of Jack Daniels.

So, this was the deal. Alicia hated to take notes. I on the other hand was the note-taker extraordinaire. Alicia had no trouble staying awake, even though she was as sleep-deprived as I was (don't ask me how). I on the other hand could fall asleep inside of a jet engine. So my job was to take notes for the two of us, and Alicia's job was to keep me awake so I could do so. I can't tell you how many times I woke up to the sound of Alicia's voice in my ear saying, "Where are you going??" which was her way of rousing me when I started drifting off.

Alicia devised many ways to pass her time in Civ class. She always figured that was an hour and a half to accomplish something productive since I was taking notes for the both of us. Once she brought a stack of magazines, some construction paper and scissors and crafted several homemade greeting cards. Another time she brought an entire loaf of bread, an economy-size tub of margarine and a butter knife and ate her breakfast. By the way, she didn't eat the whole loaf. But I was incredulous that she wagged all that stuff to class with her and sat up there on display and buttered her bread like she owned the place.

Now, this arrangement worked pretty well until one time when we were studying for a big test and we started going over my notes. To my horror, a bunch of them didn't make sense. Things were incoherent and much of it wasn't even legible. There were several places where sentences literally trailed off the bottom of the page. Apparently, Alicia hadn't been totally successful at her job (maybe she had been too busy with her bread and butter) and I had ended up sleeping through several lectures after all. Fortunately, I had read enough and caught enough that I did fine on the test. I don't remember how well Alicia did. We got a pretty good laugh out of it, but I do think I tried to get more sleep after that.

We survived Civ, and lived to tell about it. I think I pulled out a "B" for the semester in spite of the botched note-taking. The next semester I chose a different teaching team and a later hour for the second half of the torture, and it wasn't quite as bad. And I took the class alone. I probably did better in the class overall, but it just wasn't the same.

Next time maybe I'll write about the time I went flying in a hammock. Good times.

Taggies: In the Flesh

With my whole introduction to the "Taggies" market (they make baby toys and blankets and such that have lots of little "tags" all over them--babies LOVE them), I got to thinking about how I have gotten some of my own tags. Skin tags, that is. While Nathan loves his taggies, I'm not too fond of mine.

Pregnancy and motherhood bring about all sorts of bizarre and potentially irritating anomalies. I'm not sure why it is, but skin tags are some of those. If you've ever been pregnant, perhaps you understand what I'm saying. My sister-in-law shared that she had one that would come up on her tummy every time she was pregnant, but then it would always go away afterward. She is lucky that it didn't stick around like most of mine did. I think I might have had one tiny little tag before I got pregnant, but since then, it's like someone planted a bucket of seeds and they just sprouted right up with a vengeance. And they keep coming up!!! My neck, for example, has become a veritable field 'o plenty with the nasty buggers cropping up all the time. Several of them have come and gone from my armpits. Gone, that is, because I would inevitably nick them with my razor while shaving. If you think that sounds painful, well IT IS. I would have pain like none other for a couple of days, but then the thing would shrivel up and fall off and I would be rid of it for good . . . until another one decided to rear its ugly head. That was the only advantage to shaving one.

So several weeks ago I had another one come up on my neck. This thing was really annoying and fairly painful. Sometimes my necklaces would catch it, or if I turned a certain way in the car, the seatbelt would rub it and I'd nearly come unglued. I often would just catch it with my fingernail. My mother often just cuts hers off with scissors, and I debated that--Rex said he would do it for me--but the thing was already so painful I just couldn't bear the thought of CUTTING it. EEEEEEEEEK! Anyway, I was standing in the kitchen at my in-law's house the weekend before last, and I noticed that the skin tag was GONE! It was bleeding like a sieve, but it was just gone! I guess it had fallen off somewhere. I didn't try to look for it. All I could think of was how glad I was to be rid of that thing. I wish the other 674 of them would just fall off my neck like that! Oh, to have smooth skin again! But at least they aren't bothering me like that one was.

One of these days, maybe I'll get up the nerve to just shave my neck and be rid of all those little suckers for good. Until then, I guess I'll just let Nathan play with my taggies and be thankful they are small.

Underwear: A Soliloquy

I have a love-hate relationship with underwear. On the one hand, I could never go without it--YUCK!! I don't know how those nudists do it (can you imagine bicycling or horseback riding with no underwear?? GROSS!) One time, I actually ran out of underwear (due to a miscalculation in the amount of days since the last laundry), and I ended up having to wear some of Rex's boxers. Not a pleasant experience, but definitely better in my mind than going commando. On the other hand, my whole life I have struggled to find the perfect pair of underwear: the one that stays put, doesn't ride up, and doesn't scratch or annoy. I have a hyperactive nervous system, so every little thing bugs me, even more so than most people. When I was little, my grandmother used to buy me the cutesie, frilly panties that are so fun for little girls. Guess who ended up wearing all of those? My sister. The lace and bows and frills were always way too irritating for me, but didn't seem to bother her. Must be nice. I always had the plain-jane cotton type because that's all I could tolerate.

So, I found some underwear at WalMart several years ago that became my standard brand, and they were OK--not great, but the best I'd found up to that point, anyway. Unfortunately, when I went to buy some new ones last year, I found that they had changed them significantly and they didn't fit the same anymore--story of my life. They were pretty awful, actually. I was totally bummed, and started looking for a new brand. I absolutely HATE shopping for underwear because you can't really try them on and you don't know how they are going to feel until after you've worn them and can't take them back. I can't tell you how many pairs of uncomfortable underwear I've gotten stuck with over the years.

Then a few months ago, I stumbled upon a brand of underwear that I hadn't seen before. It's called "The Best Fitting Intimates in the World." Being the skeptic that I am, and having gone through too many pairs of underwear with similar claims, my first thought was, "Yeah, right." But, they promised a full refund if I didn't agree with their statement, so I thought "What the heck" and bought a pair. Now, the world is a very large place, and I haven't tried EVERY pair of underwear that's out there. So, I can't really say without reservation that they are the BEST underwear in the whole world. They aren't perfect, but they are definitely the best fitting ones I personally have found to date. I was ECSTATIC to have found them!! I bought several pair and recently went back to WalMart to get another, and guess what??? THEY WERE GONE!!!!!!! What the heck?? I don't understand why this kind of thing always happens to me! I have yet to check at other WalMart stores to see if they still carry them there, but I may cry if I can't find them anymore.

So, needless to say, I will be keeping my eyes peeled for "The Best Fitting Intimates in the World." I think it's only fitting to end this with a little underwear song. Wouldn't you agree?

I have lost my underwear,
I don't care, I'll go bare.
Bye bye, longjohns.
They were very dear to me
Tickled me, tee hee hee!
Bye bye, longjohns.
How I miss that little trap door behind me.
If you see them you know where to find me.
I have lost my underwear,
I don't care, I'll go bare.
Bye bye, longjohns!

Woo Hoo for Egg Nog in July!!

I am an egg nog FREAK, and I am particularly partial to Braum's Egg Nog. I love it so much that I usually go through several half gallons every holiday season. It's a wonder I'm not big as a barn. Braum's makes an amazing egg nog shake too during the holidays--they use egg nog ice cream and real egg nog to make it. It's absolutely sinful, but totally delicious! We usually try to stop every year either on the way up or back from Oklahoma and get a shake at Braum's during the holidays. Rex goes for the pumpkin malt, but I'm egg nog all the way, Baby!

It's probably rather fortunate (for my waistline, particularly) that egg nog is only sold during the holidays, even though that makes me very sad. But, a couple of years ago I got this brilliant idea and I bought a couple of extra half gallons to put in the freezer so that I could have egg nog in the summertime! As luck would have it, they even put it on SALE that year because they had ordered too much of it. I was ecstatic.

Well, long story short, I got pregnant that year and was lactose intolerant during my pregnancy, and then had gestational diabetes, so I didn't get to have egg nog during the summertime. We ended up getting the egg nog out of the freezer at just about holiday time, so it wasn't quite as exciting as I had hoped. Then, that Christmas, Rex and I had the stomach flu and were stuck in Oklahoma for several extra days. When we got back, all the egg nog was sold out, and we couldn't get any to freeze for last summer. I was totally bummed.

So, this past holiday season, I made sure to buy two extra half gallons of yumminess, and I froze them. We decided just the other day that we would thaw one and enjoy it! It has been so much fun to drink egg nog in the middle of the summer when no one else can!!! We love egg nog french toast (one of my specialties--it's amazing!) and so we've had that twice already. There is just a little left in the jug, so we'll probably split that tonight and savor the last drops together. But, there's still one more left in the freezer and we'll be getting it out later in the summer. I know all you egg nog people are jealous! As for me, it's total happiness!! Thank you, Lord, for egg nog!

I need a happy ending

Rex and I watched "The Guardian" yesterday. It was a good movie, but the ending stunk! I am a sucker for happy endings. I hate to watch a movie all the way through and then be disappointed because the ending is sad or depressing. There are maybe one or two exceptions, but even with those, I would have preferred a better end result. "Braveheart" is one.

I also really detest sad movies for sad movies' sake. For example, I will not watch "Old Yeller" or "Where the Red Fern Grows" (I've seen them both once, and that was plenty). What is the point of those movies?? I could lump "Steel Magnolias" and "Beaches" into a similar category. I also don't like the super sad, sappy songs either (can't stand "The Christmas Shoes.") There's already too much stuff in this world that is sad and depressing. I don't need anything else to bring me down, even if it is just a fictional story.

That reminds me of the episode of "Friends" where Phoebe finds out that her mother never let her watch the sad endings of movies and she thought they all ended happily. She was so upset when she found out what REALLY happened in all those movies. That's a pretty funny episode, but I think they should have let Phoebe stay ignorant and happy! Maybe I'm a little weird.

Well, that's all for now. Toodle-loo!

Can we say DUH!!!!!!!!

OK. It's official. I'm a moron.

We have some friends who got married today. We've been planning to go to their wedding since day one. We also have some friends who are getting married in August. Well, long story short, we got dressed up, got Nathan all dolled up, and took off for the wedding this afternoon . . . but we went to the WRONG CHURCH!!! We went to the church where the wedding in August will be. We both just KNEW the wedding today was at that church. We knew it so well that we didn't bother even looking at the invitation. And, we didn't bother bringing the invitation with us either, because we both knew exactly where we were going. We tried texting and calling a couple of people who we knew were going, to ask them where it was, but couldn't reach anyone. By then it was about ten minutes until the wedding was going to start and we knew there was no way we could make it in time, particularly since we had no idea where to go. All we could do was just go home and write it off as a moronic blunder.

So, we drove home feeling defeated and really stupid, and changed out of our wedding attire into something much more comfortable. I put Nathan down for a nap and ran to the grocery store to get a couple of items we needed for dinner tonight. It wasn't how we had planned to spend the afternoon, but it all worked out, I suppose. We'll have to apologize to the now-married couple for missing their nuptials. I'm really bummed about that.

Well, I'm going to go get ready for bed now. More later!

I learned something new about couponing!

I actually learned some incredibly useful knowledge that I didn't know about using coupons!! And, strangely enough, I learned it from my husband (I know, go figure!) I think he learned it from talking with a guy at work whose wife is a big coupon shopper. I found out that you can use coupons for any of the products that fall under the particular brand name on the coupon, whether the coupon is ACTUALLY for that specific product or not. For example, I used a Ritz chips coupon and bought some plain Ritz crackers, and a Bertolli pasta package coupon to purchase jarred pasta sauce. I'm not sure just how far this reaches, but I think you could use a Pampers pull ups coupon for regular Pampers diapers and maybe even a coupon for Dove hair products to buy Dove deodorant. I will have to experiment and see what the store will actually take. I am very excited about this newfound knowledge because that means that so many of the coupons I haven't been able to use in the past (and sadly, have thrown money down the drain by tossing them in the garbage) are now very usable, and I can save a lot more money that way!

I also found out that WalMart will price match any competitor's ads, so I am going to start checking all the ads for good buys now and taking them with me to the store when I shop. I am really hoping to save a bunch of money by doing this! YAY!

Well, gotta go get my little one out of the shower--his daddy is "yoo hooing" me!

Hanging out with the boys

Today I am just hanging with my guys. My dad came over and he and Rex are currently engaged in a shoot-'em-up X-Box game and Nathan is currently napping. I need to put the laundry in the dryer, empty the dishwasher, clean my bedroom, list some eBay items, and put some makeup on. But here I am wasting away in Blogville. It is much more fun than those other alternatives.

Rex is doing much better today. He still hurts the worst when he laughs or sneezes. He's been laughing a LOT. He's laughed really hard at stuff that wasn't even funny. Earlier in the week he could blame the drugs, but he hasn't even taken any the last couple of days. If I laugh AT ALL, he just starts laughing uncontrollably. The other day I just sniffed really hard and he thought I was laughing, so he started laughing. I was like, "Dude, get a grip!" There are times however, that we keep making each other laugh and it's really bad. Those are the times when we have to go into separate rooms to get control over ourselves so that Rex doesn't die from all the hilarity. He can't wait until that part is over. He told me last night, "I HAVE to be able to laugh! It's who I am. I LAUGH." He's funny.

I got some movies from the library yesterday. It's been so long since we've had any time to just sit and watch a movie together. We watched "Superman Returns" last night. It was OK. I wasn't blown away by it or anything, but it was worth seeing. I thought it was really stupid how it was supposed to take place five years after the previous Superman movie and yet all the actors they chose for the parts were quite a bit younger than all the actors in the originals. The guy that played Superman looked like a little boy compared to Christopher Reeve. Call me picky, but I just thought it was a little ridiculous. We won't have time to watch anything today, but maybe we can catch some more later in the week/weekend. I'm looking forward to it.

I went swimming last night with Nathan in his new little inflatable pool. It's really cute--it has a canopy over it that "rains" water down on you, if you want it to. Nathan loves that. It was over 90 degrees when we went out there, but the water was cool, and with the wind blowing, Nathan and I both nearly froze to death!! Who knew? We didn't stay in there too long just because we couldn't stand it. Crazy, huh?

OK. I'd better go get something done. Bye for now.

We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps.

Proverbs is full of some very interesting and very true nuggets of wisdom. It's really wild to see how many of them play and are playing out in my own life. When I was younger, I had all sorts of plans for my life. And it seems that especially when you're young, people always seem to be asking the question: "Where do you see yourself in five years . . . in ten?" Yeah, I always had a answer for that. I had plans. I had goals and dreams. One of them was realized when I married my best friend. And another when I had my sweet baby boy. But a lot of those dreams I once had have gone by the wayside. Even dreams that the Lord originally led me to pursue. Why? They ended up not being His plans after all. It's like He changed directions for me in midstream and decided to steer me in a different way. Or maybe I'm just a total dufus and can't understand what God tells me.

That has been a difficult thing to swallow at times. I have often been sort of an over-achiever when it came to certain things, maybe even to a fault. I'm also a total planner and scheduler. I had dreams of a very successful career in helping people, and believed strongly that was what God wanted for me. I got my bachelor's degree in Family Psychology, and applied to grad school to pursue that dream of being a Marriage and Family Therapist. I was pumped. I was excited. I was ready to go. And then after a year and a half, God told me that's not where He wanted me. I was completely discouraged and felt like a failure. What about all that time and money I had poured into schooling? What about my dreams? What about my future? I had no idea what I was even going to do with my life.

And then God led me into the music field. Music had been my love for as long as I could remember, but I had chosen a different career path in college because I didn't want to perform or teach, and music doesn't lend itself to much else. But at that later point in my life, I was really excited about the possibility of teaching. I loved working with high school students, and had found that I had at least somewhat of a knack for teaching them. I had a new dream! I enrolled at the Seminary where I could get my master's in the same amount of time that it would take to get a bachelor's anywhere else. I did really well in the program and was excited about what was in store for me. Then one summer day, a year away from graduation, God simply said, "I don't want you to go back to school." It was out of the blue and totally unexpected. I didn't even know what to say. He used several people--close and trusted friends--to give me this message and confirm it. And then as if to put an exclamation point on it, He withdrew all the funds He had been supplying for me to pay for my education. I was once again without a clue as to what path my life would take at that point. My dreams had once again gone down the tubes.

I dedicated my time and energy to helping Rex with youth ministry. This was definitely what God had for me for a season. We made such a perfect team. We get along so well and work together like a horse and cart. I absolutely loved doing it. We were both very passionate about ministry and about teenagers and we saw God do some amazing things in our group. It was like I had a new dream--working with my husband was more than fulfilling enough for me; I didn't need my own career. And then one day all that came to a screeching halt. God made it clear that's not where He wanted either one of us anymore. Both of our dreams were shattered at that point.

So what to make of all that? Our plans? Out the window. Our dreams? Evidently not to be realized. This really has perplexed me a lot, but I keep coming back to several verses:

"We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps." Proverbs 16:9
"'For I know the plans I have for you,' says the Lord. 'They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.'" Jeremiah 29:11
"'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the Lord. 'As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.'" Isaiah 55:8-9
" . . . being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." Philippians 1:6

I know that what the Lord has planned for me is infinitely better than anything I could dream up on my own. I also know that where I am now is a better place in many ways than where I would have been had I not listened to the Lord and gone my own way. I am so thankful to be a wife and mommy and fulfill God's will for me in those roles. Sometimes I still feel like a failure in my education and career paths, but God always reminds me that faithfulness to Him is never failure, no matter how the world might see it.

I don't ever answer those questions anymore about where I see myself in so many years. I only see myself being wherever God chooses to put me and doing whatever He tells me to do, and that is all up to Him and His timing. And after all these years, I am totally at peace with that.

The gall bladder, the gall bladder . . . whatever happened to the gall bladder?

I know. I'm weird. If you haven't figured that out by now, you're a little slow on the uptake. But nevertheless . . .

Rex had his gall bladder out yesterday morning. We arrived at the surgery center at 6:00am (when God's not even awake) and I have to say that everyone there was disgustingly perky for that hideous hour of the morning. I guess if you have a job like that, it's a good thing to be a morning person, but good gracious! Anyway, they took Rex back into surgery right on time--at 7:30am. Two of our deacons came and sat with me during the procedure--very sweet ladies--and so it turned out that I didn't need to bring my 10 Parents magazines after all. I lugged that heavy bag all over the place for nothing ;)

The surgery lasted a little longer than expected due to a couple of snags--nothing serious, but the doctor told me that Rex made him work for his money ;) Evidently, the cystic bile duct was nearly closed up with scar tissue and so they couldn't get the catheter in there to do all the things they had planned to do. After quite a few tries, they ended up doing things a little differently, but it all worked out. Then, one of the incisions wouldn't stop bleeding, so they ended up putting a stitch in it. The gall bladder had some scar tissue on it, which indicated past inflammation, and then of course, the bile duct was in bad shape, probably due to some "grit" (as the doctor called it) passing through there from time to time. And then there were the polyps. So, it was a good thing that Rex went ahead with the surgery.

They gave him some extra meds for nausea that acted like a double-whammy with the anesthesia, so Rex was out cold for some time. When they invited me back to the recovery area, I couldn't even rouse him. They told me that he had been a "wild man" and right after surgery was rolling around a lot and even flipped over on all fours. Of course, he was out of it and didn't know about any of it. When he finally woke up and they told him about it, all he could think of was the open-backed gown he had on and he said, "Did I moon everybody?" The nurse and I were cracking up, and she said with a smile, "We didn't look. We're professionals." Anyway, we didn't get to leave until noon because Rex just couldn't stay awake. He crashed on the couch as soon as we got home and slept like a rock until about 2:30. He's got good drugs, although he's been taking Ibuprofen instead this afternoon. He's had a healthy appetite, which is good. The nurse said he couldn't pick Nathan up for a week, but I remember the doctor saying it wasn't that big of a deal. I think we'll ask him about it when we call to make the post-op appointment on Monday. It's killing him (and Nathan too) not to be able to pick him up, particularly when Nathan's always coming up to him and saying, "Pick up! Pick up!"

It's odd, but yet totally miraculous how the body works. They said that Rex wouldn't even miss his gall bladder because the liver takes over and compensates for the fact that it's gone. So he doesn't have to take any extra meds or anything, which is good. That's wild to me.

Well, that's about all I know about gall bladders--and just that my husband is now minus his. We're glad to have it over and done with and praying for speedy healing with no infections or complications. We're also praying that he will feel tons better after having this done. Judging by what his insides looked like before, he definitely should!

Speaking of Dreams . . .

I don't know about anyone else, but I dream all night long every night!! It's been that way for as long as I can remember, and many nights it wears me plum out! Rex says he doesn't think he even dreams a lot of the time. I just can't even imagine that. My dreams are often very vivid and I can still remember some quite clearly that I had many years ago. With most of my dreams, I can only remember little bits and pieces and often even those are cloudy, but there have been some that have been absolutely crystal clear from beginning to end. Some of those I've told my prophet friends in hopes of an interpretation, but I don't know that I've ever really gotten an earth-shattering message out of them. Some interesting points, yes, but nothing huge.

I don't have any recurring dreams anymore. I used to have one when I was little, and I think it involved a merry-go-round, but it's been so long I can't remember. Now, I just have recurring themes in my dreams--different stories, contexts and people, but similar situations. One of the predominant themes is school--I'm back in school, either high school or college, and one or more of the following things happens:

1. It's after Christmas vacation or Spring Break, and I can't remember my locker combination
2. I can't find my class schedule to know what class I have at what time, or where the class meets
3. I wander all over campus looking for the building and classroom where I am supposed to be, and can't ever find it
4. It is late in the semester and I realize that there is a class (usually a math class) that I have forgotten to go to more times than I have gone, and I think I am going to flunk out of it
5. I go to class and realize that there is a big project due that I have forgotten about

Seriously, I dream about this stuff ALL the time. I had one like this just last night. It makes me crazy. I don't know why I'm all uptight about that stuff--praise the Lord, I'm not even in school anymore, and don't plan to go back (God willing!) These were not even scenarios that I struggled with when I was in school either, so I'm not sure where it all comes from.

There is another theme that hasn't come up recently, but it used to all the time. I am walking somewhere, and it's usually a long distance, but my legs don't want to work. It's like I can barely stand or walk, or like I'm trying to walk through water (but there is no water). It tires me out just trying, and I think there's no way I'm going to make it to the place where I am headed. Weird. I really hate these dreams.

Often, my dreams are set in familiar places like houses I used to live in, or my grandparents' old houses. Sometimes I'm at the church where I grew up. Then others occur in places I've never seen before. All sorts of people turn up in my dreams too--people I've often not thought of literally in years. It's odd how the mind works, isn't it? I don't understand dreams and don't believe they all have particular meaning, but I do think there is something to some of them. I've written the most vivid ones down for posterity. Some might make scary campfire stories to tell my son and his friends one day :) All I have to say is, what a bizzare thing the human psyche is!