appalling...inspiring horror, dismay, or disgust...

Last Friday's editorial page included a letter from a local pastor condemning Christian rock music in general and an upcoming Christian music festival, SHOUTfest, specifically. This particular festival is something being hosted by WGCA, our local CCM radio station. Personally, I was excited to hear about it and Shawna, John and Neal are thinking about entering the battle of the bands segment of the tour which totally...rocks.

This pastor had me at "appalling". He sites personal experience and several King James references in support of his conclusions: Matt. 7:6; 2 Cor. 6:14-15; Heb. 1:3-4 [because rock and roll was a term designated to mean illicit sex] & Mal. 3:5-6.

I immediately wanted to search a copy of his hymnal to dog ear all the hymns whose melodies were originally "appalling" bar songs but quickly and surprisingly discovered there are a significant list of links to articles that declare this to be a myth. And one I have long believed.

He's obviously passionate about this subject and writes with a conviction in his belly and enough integrity to sign his name along with that of the church he pastors, but it's been a week and no one has submitted any response. And I have it sitting on my desk taunting me. Appalling.

David dancing in his underwear.

Mary great with child.

John the Baptist.

Mary Magdalene.

Jesus.

Scott Ross of CBN writes: "Music and the performing arts are not intrinsically evil in themselves. The utilization of the creative arts are set apart (sanctified) by the vessel that God chooses to express Himself through. God certainly has used strange methods and messengers to package His message in. Throughout the Scriptures, God has used prostitutes, the crippled, the blind, tax collectors, farmers, fishermen, shepherds, kings, Jews, Gentiles, murderers, and adulterers and redeemed them for the purposes of His Kingdom."

And perhaps even a SHOUTfest or two.

I can appreciate his attempt to honor a God that changest not. But to go so far as to say "For a true born-again, Bible-believing Christian to accept rock music regardless of the words and its participants is not walking in the paths of God's word." might be a little if not appalling, at the least judgmental, and from the scripture he quotes, even he would agree that judgment call lies in the hands of the Almighty. And that unchanging God of ours is still searching hearts to get to the center of things. If He uses an electric guitar to do it, fine by me. And actually preferred. Besides, I would be surprised to find his congregation using only lyres and timbrels every Sunday morning...which would actually rock if the hearts behind the lyres and timbrels are more concerned with their own awareness of their unworthiness to come before such a holy God in worship than the life changing expressions being experienced by others in many different forms of musical style.

I know this: no Contemporary Christian song has ever inspired me to have sex. Illicit or otherwise. TMI :)

I have however been moved to tears, moved to my knees, moved to my feet, moved to change and moved into a deeper relationship with Jesus. I'm thinking this SHOUTfest will only be appalling to the father of lies and those who believe them. If it's not your thing or your preferred style of expression, or if this genre causes you to engage in memories of a past long forgotten, don't come. But engage caution when condemning those who do. A God who smiles at creation might just be honored as thousands of His created gather to abandon themselves in worship beside a mighty river under the expanse of the heavens. And you can bet He'll be listening to the hearts and lives in attendance and not so much the instrument of choice. I'm also betting and praying He'll send His Spirit along for the ride.

things I didn't know...

Here are several things I didn't know earlier today:

That I don't want "How Great Thou Art", "The Old Rugged Cross", "Amazing Grace" etc. sung or played at my funeral. Love all those songs a lot. Don't want them at my funeral.

Being unemployed by choice, seems to irritate my immediate family. If not irritate, at least creates a source for sarcastic, under the breath zings here and there that I am on a quest to understand as soon as I unload the dishwasher for the second time today and put another load of laundry in.

That no one with three laundry baskets full of flip flops is going to heaven, whether I wear them all or not.

That I, in all my Christianity, at my very core am pleasure driven and selfish. While Josh was preaching his heart out with the passion of St. Paul, instead of being challenged to feed the poor and bind the broken hearted, I went face to face with the center of who I am: I'd rather sing. I'd rather play. I'd rather give it lip service and call it a day.

That I look like I'm wasted when I worship.

That in addition to being jobless, I laugh like a witch [okay, I knew this before today] and make annoying sounds when chewing gooey foods like bagels and gum.

That there is a sticky dirty film over our entire house and new cracks in the ceilings...apparently...

That Coldplay really is a good band.

one...

Was it Three Dog Night that did "One"? Not sure and I'm too lazy to look it up, but it would be cool if I got that song stuck in your head while you read this. Even cooler if it gets stuck in there all day :) One is the loneliest number...one is the loneliest number, one is the loneliest number that you'll ever do...or something like that.

One can be "one" lonely number. I just got on for a minute to check my email before heading out to sing/play for a funeral and meet some buddies for lunch. I made my quick link check to see if anyone had blogged over night only to see my lonely comments sitting all by themselves on several posts. Before you say I need a life...

That song reminds me of a worship seminar many moons ago a group of us attended in St. Louis. Aside from remembering all the 11 X 14 photos of Pastor Blunt EVERY where we looked, I did appreciate and enjoy them cranking this song up before he preached. He sang along and danced. All in an effort to thank everyone who helped plan and present the seminar. I remember being amazed that the congregation started singing along and pretty soon the whole place was jamming to that song. I thought that was pretty cool. I wonder if he knew how "lonely" he looked in all those pictures plastered everywhere and thought a group photo might have been more in order for the building of a church- but it was a cool song.

Gotta go...Happy Saturday.

barbie goes fishing...

And she caught a 2-3 lb. catfish right off the bat. Yup. It was a beaut. I wanted to keep it but dad said it was too much fuss. The rest of the morning's yield from two separate ponds wasn't really anything to write home about, but it was a lot of fun. At least I thought so. [And Deby, I, with gloved hand, removed two different fish and baited my hook with a worm as well. I also managed to tangle one of dad's reels all up somehow and he'll need to repair it at home.]

He tried to get me to cast with a lure and one of those rods where the reel hangs below and I'm supposed to use my left hand to reel it back in. Well, I ended up snagging more of the weeds behind me, two tree branches and a lot of water grass instead of fish. I just kept telling dad to look the other way. I can sightread in any key you throw at me though, so I am not a total loser.

It was a lovely morning to go. It took me a while to get used to the frogs making this sound something like a large rubber band snapping. Sounded like a song from "The Brave Little Toaster", only I always thought that sound was a dragon fly and not a frog. Now I know.

Off to my pool to see if the little winged things are gone. I may have to just deal, it's way too perfect not to be on a raft...

or not...

Nice feeling. Standing waist high in a pool and slowly discovering there are lots of winged things floating on the water...dead, but nasty. Looks like it's hatching season for something and I didn't notice before getting in.

So, we close her up and they'll sink to the bottom over night. Yuck.

Yuck, yuck, yuck...

and that's a wrap...

Somewhere this week I lost a day. Don't know where exactly it went, but today is supposed to be Wednesday by my internal/mental calendar. And that's with Prolief in my system. Anyhoo, tomorrow, Friday, I B draggin' my butt out of bed to meet dad for breakfast at 7:00 before we go.......................fishing :)

Yup. Trip #2.

He asked if I do weeds. Do I ever :) How do you think I lost that day...It should be nice out tomorrow morning and we'll have a great time...drowning worms I think he says. The Place had ribs again today for lunch so that's when he caught me up to speed on his goldfish pond. [BTW, he laughed out loud on the phone when I read him my poem. Said he couldn't have done better himself. Lol.]

Gonna chunky dunk with Kev here in a minute or two and catch up on his day. Sounds like it was a busy one.

Say a prayer or two throughout the evening for fuel....always something new that God of ours manages to do every Thursday night...

ba-

Prose and ponds...

"Rejoice with me", my father said, "no longer do fish in mud, lie dead. The grave digger had himself some idears, same ones landed muted between my two ears. There's a tunnel that drains from yonder Wal-Mart, that bypassed the pond when a rain would start. Not a might too soon he dug up a trench, and lo and behold that last rain done drenched that lot with plenty of water to spare, as it poured, drained and followed that path down to where, a pond full of fish minus twenty or so, are happily swimming, their pond overflows."

What fun. Becca, Erin and Shawna all crammed on the sofa sifting through piles of bridal magazines. Laughing. Teasing. Remembering. Dreaming. Not so much different than when they were in Jr. Hi. except for the fact they are all such gorgeous young women and life has taken them through some twists and turns before this night. Dinner was great. And we all felt more than a bit guilty eating those treats I mentioned earlier. But this. This is what the night was all about. This is a beautiful moment in time and one that won't often be repeated. Thankful they have this chance.

And John and Kevin are upstairs watching a game. Cardinals maybe. Every once in a while I hear them yell. Good bonding for the two of them. Kevin would say they have bonded enough already. Lol.

And me. I just stepped in here to blog my moment. Feels pretty good this side of the river. Feels pretty good.

ummm...

Can you go wrong with graham cracker crumbs, butter, chocolate, butterscotch & caramel chips, nuts and a can of sweetened condensed milk? This can and will change our lives tonight as we partake. Count on it.

Becca and Erin are coming over for a dinner of country ribs on the grill, new potatoes, corn, and my strawberry-almond salad with raspberry dressing. I even bought the ladies two bottles of their favorite sparkling grape juice. A party in the making.

Becca wants to tell us all the goods on last week's CIY and Erin has 2000 pictures from Italy & Africa to show us with an evening full of stories to go with, I hope. These two ladies are Shawna's best friends. Since the boyfriend hit her heart they haven't spent as much time together but a cord of three strands...

It should be a great night. Boy my house smells good.

sing with me...

When it's all been said and done. There is just one thing that matters.
Did I do my best to live for truth, did I live my life for You?

When it's all been said and done. All my treasures will mean nothing;
Only what I've done for love's reward, will stand the test of time.

Lord, our mercy is so great, that You look beyond our weakness,
And find purest gold in miry clay, making sinners into saints.

I will always sing Your praise, here on earth and ever after;
For You've shown me Heaven's my true home, when it's all been said and done, You're my life when life is gone.

When it's all been said and done. There is just one thing that matters.
Did I do my best to live for truth, did I live my life for You?

Did I live my life for You?

~Jim Cowan

rejoice with me...

Lol. My dad called while it was raining yesterday and starts in with his "rejoice with me..." I've learned to wait it out because ever since I told him how funny I thought that was, and even blogged about it, he begins frequent phone calls with that phrase but now follows it with some witty little piece of prose. Last night was no exception, but I can only remember part of it. I know it was something like this:

"Rejoice with me, it's time I think, The good Lord hath given the earth a drink."

That's close. I was laughing at the time. He's a funny dude. He spent Monday at the cemetery hauling jugs of water to their shrinking fish pond in an effort to rescue the remainder of the goldfish who call it home. It took him, a compassionate older lady and the grave digger most of the day to make a dent and it was too late for a lot of the poor little bubble eyed guys. There were three boys there yesterday trying to hook them with their fishing poles and drag them off the mud before they contaminated the rest of the water. He knows this because he was taking food out to give the fish. You just have to love this guy. I know I do.

randoms...

Anyone else find it funny that on the spell checking service for blogger, the words blog, blogging or blogger always pop up with no alternative spelling?? I think that's a riot.

I also dreamed Tadly returned from Russia and was beardless. And we were ready to play some type of volleyball game with the regulars and this family walked in with a bunch of religious rules they needed to abide before they would play us, and one of the rules was no incense. And I think Brian was carrying this huge backgammon game around with him...and I forgot my shoes, and there was a lot of traffic. We were all there. I think I was skinny. Nope. That was Shawna. But Tad was beardless...

lol. took forever to clear the spellcheck with that first line...

blogging believers...

I was talking some of this over with a couple close friends yesterday explaining what I had done and decided to do to make it right, and there were a couple recurring questions: Why do "they" keep coming back and reading this? Who in their right mind would print what I wrote and give it to her to begin with? If they were so concerned, why haven't they come to you and talked to you about it?

We all do this. Even the ones of us who proclaim the Matt.18 motto, we all make choices to talk to everyone but the one person we should be talking to. We all do this and we all know better. I know better. And as I debated with someone yesterday about my responsibility in all this, [she felt this is a personal space, I can write what I want] I landed on this: If I blog about something and place it out where anyone who happens by can view it, and haven't talked to the person directly about it, it's still gossip. It's still not going to them and talking it out first. I have a right to my feelings, I have a right to post whatever I want, but I need to take responsibility for all that means in the process. What I wrote was true and it was what I was working through at the time. But I should have gone to her first or dropped it.

This still doesn't answer those questions. It doesn't answer why two of my recent posts were fueled by conversations people chose to have with someone else about me and not with me. And these people know Matt. 18. These people should have talked to me. That's this boat we're in. Maybe then I wouldn't have to blog about it.

Once again, I'm sorry. Hopefully with all the hits this got in the last 24 hours, everyone knows I'm done writing about it all. And I can leave it for God to work through. He was doing that anyway, at least He's been nailing me on some stuff, so feel free to join Him.

Perhaps a guideline for blogging believers is in order. Or maybe I just need to apply the one I already have...

arm full of stones and mouth full of bitter herbs...

I blew it. And I want to publicly admit it. I made some posts earlier this summer about Lacey and I want to apologize not only to her but to other staff that are trying to make this transition as easy as possible for her given the mess she was left to sort through.

I let my guilt and my frustration with all of this, and a little insecurity as well, cloud my judgment and instead of following His prompt to talk to her face to face and try to help her grow in her ministry, I chose the lower, less lovely road of blog style gossip. It doesn't necessarily change what I was feeling or how I felt about it all, but I should have handled it the way I know is right. My momma raised me better than that.

A very good friend reminded me today of my own concerns about a young preacher leaving the ministry because of how he had been treated by people who should and do know better. And you know, these words have a bitter after taste having to eat them by way of my own sorry behavior.

Lacey, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve to read what I put out there for the world to see. I should have come to you and talked it through. I'm looking forward to our chance to talk tomorrow and praying I can do something to fix it somehow. It really will get better. And I'll do whatever I can to redeem this. I'm sorry. I knew better.

Please give me another chance.

an arm full of stones...

"When the whole nation had finished crossing the Jordan, the LORD said to Joshua, "Choose twelve men from among the people, one from each tribe, and tell them to take up twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan from right where the priests stood and to carry them over with you and put them down at the place where you stay tonight."

So Joshua called together the twelve men he had appointed from the Israelites, one from each tribe, and said to them, "Go over before the ark of the LORD your God into the middle of the Jordan. Each of you is to take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the Israelites, to serve as a sign among you. In the future, when your children ask you, 'What do these stones mean?' tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the LORD. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever."

So the Israelites did as Joshua commanded them. They took twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan, according to the number of the tribes of the Israelites, as the LORD had told Joshua; and they carried them over with them to their camp, where they put them down. Joshua set up the twelve stones that had been in the middle of the Jordan at the spot where the priests who carried the ark of the covenant had stood. And they are there to this day.

Now the priests who carried the ark remained standing in the middle of the Jordan until everything the LORD had commanded Joshua was done by the people, just as Moses had directed Joshua. The people hurried over, and as soon as all of them had crossed, the ark of the LORD and the priests came to the other side while the people watched. The men of Reuben, Gad and the half-tribe of Manasseh crossed over, armed, in front of the Israelites, as Moses had directed them. About forty thousand armed for battle crossed over before the LORD to the plains of Jericho for war. That day the LORD exalted Joshua in the sight of all Israel; and they revered him all the days of his life, just as they had revered Moses. Then the LORD said to Joshua, "Command the priests carrying the ark of the Testimony to come up out of the Jordan."

So Joshua commanded the priests, "Come up out of the Jordan." And the priests came up out of the river carrying the ark of the covenant of the LORD. No sooner had they set their feet on the dry ground than the waters of the Jordan returned to their place and ran at flood stage as before. On the tenth day of the first month the people went up from the Jordan and camped at Gilgal on the eastern border of Jericho. And Joshua set up at Gilgal the twelve stones they had taken out of the Jordan. He said to the Israelites, "In the future when your descendants ask their fathers, 'What do these stones mean?' tell them, 'Israel crossed the Jordan on dry ground.' For the LORD your God dried up the Jordan before you until you had crossed over. The LORD your God did to the Jordan just what he had done to the Red Sea when he dried it up before us until we had crossed over. He did this so that all the peoples of the earth might know that the hand of the LORD is powerful and so that you might always fear the LORD your God." -Joshua 4

I have always loved this passage. Maybe because of the mental picture of all that water being cut off, perhaps because the good guys didn't get wet, or just because it was after all a pretty cool account.

A few years ago we used twelve men to periodically carry stones on their shoulders and place them on the communion table in the center of auditorium throughout the service. It was very moving and powerful. We remembered what God had done for us and through us that morning and looked forward to what He would do for and through us in the future.

Not long after, our staff was asked to bring stones to a gathering at the Crossing for lunch and fellowship between the three local Christian churches. In an attempt to remind us to think as "one" and not "three" we were asked to place our stones outside by the street so we could see them every time we passed by and remember we are the same Body, to work together and not against one another. "...And they are there to this day..."

A couple months ago in a study I was doing there was a whole segment devoted to this passage and as I processed last night's post and the conversation leading up to it, and processed it well into the wee hours, I began to realize I've been hauling a pile of stones around, not only because I haven't been able to lay them down, but because I didn't want everyone else to walk right past them and not know why they were there. If I had them in my arms, maybe someone would ask what they were for.

In this study, Beth Moore encourages that God will cut a path through any obstacle that stands between me and the fulfillment of His covenant promises. But she also says that when He makes the path it's up to me to take it. These stones were from the "middle of the Jordan. The halfway point. The deepest part. The place of sudden doubt and indecision." As Henry Blackaby puts it, a crisis of belief. A place where we decide what we're going to do. She tells us we are wisest to hurry over, that we might want to turn around to what is familiar, even if it isn't in our best interest, we might stand still and go nowhere, or we can move on. We can, I guess in some way, get over it.

The view from the middle of the river is pretty amazing and honestly, I'm proud of myself for trying to cross it to begin with. The shore behind me was a beautiful place once upon a time. It was all I have known and called home. But these waters towering above me have been patiently held in place by a Father who knew I would need some time. And He knew I would need to bring these stones.

Last night was something. Not sure I can describe what was at work in me. While we were busy with last minute details and trying to remember everything we needed to get right, there was this circle of people front and center holding hands and praying. Living stones, standing stones, interceding for God to make a way. Interceding for God to move us into new territory we had never experienced before. Interceding for God's people to be changed because of His presence and through the worship He would receive. There was incense burning. There were people standing in line trying to find a place to sit. I don't know exactly how I felt. I was excited about putting it all together, I was distracted with making sure everything was ready to go, I was...new, but really comfortable. What followed in the next incredible hour or so was nothing short of amazing.

We had prayed about this evening and wanted to be amazed. We wanted to wake our senses and our hearts to how unbelievable our God really is, and how we just have to live all out for Him. The congregation came ready. They came to praise and they came to praise Him all out. It was crazy. There was teaching on the tabernacle and incense in Biblical times. There was a time of complete silence. There was incense being spread over the congregation as they prayed. What followed was perhaps the most significant sense of His presence I have felt in my life. [Oddly enough, the other time I recall that moved me in such an indescribable way also involved smelling a sweet fragrance, however there was no incense being burned...]

Worship is such an extravagant gift. It actually isn't much different than His ark of the covenant parting the waters for the Israelites really. His presence is still parting waters today, cutting a path for us in the midst of a world that just isn't all that easy to live in sometimes, a path made visible in the midst of authentic worship. I didn't want it to end. The heavens really touched our small lot of earth last night and it was a beautiful thing.

I made my way through the hallway; a hallway that is actually feeling a lot less strange and God had one more surprise for me. In this sea of faces, only a few with names, my eyes rested on these four young ladies from the "other side of the river". I sure didn't expect to see them there and I still don't know why they came. I do know this, it moved me. It moved me a lot. It was nice of them to come and it was nice of them to seek us out afterwards. That was big to me.

Anyway, we headed back in to re-record one song and there were lots of hugs and expressions of love. A few of us listened to the raw tracks, which were beyond expectation and it was pretty wonderful to be honest. We all got something to eat and I headed home. That's when Kevin "encouraged" me to stop blogging about everything, to just...get over it. Man, if I ever hear that phrase again it will be too soon.

But like I said, I processed this stuff way into the night and this is what I've come up with: I figure He's only going to hold the waters back for so long. I need to make a move one way or the other or they will engulf me to the point where I won't be much use to Him or to the others in my life. But I'm bringing the stones. I know I'll need to lay them down and I guess I'm ready to do that if last night was a glimpse of what waits on the other shore. But every once in a while I'm going to look at them and remember. I find comfort in knowing there are a few really precious people in my life that will remember with me and we'll all understand if there are days when the stones haunt us and we need to talk it through or work it out, and realize it isn't weakness or unforgiveness, just growth and healing that can't be spoken into being. And I need those few people to know I will never forget and I will always be here and will always understand.

One day I will tell my grandchildren of these stones when they are ready. Because I'd like for them to do it differently, to do it better, to do it more like it was intended to be. The Body of Christ is much more than I ever dreamed and perhaps this is my lesson, this is what He needs me to remember. She is worth this cost. She was certainly worth His & mine pales in comparison. I will remember how He made a way. I will remember what was lost along the way. But I will cross and lay them down, I will move on. For the joy set before me.

Behind me: My heritage. My childhood. My first choir. My second grade Sunday school class. My first alto part. My mom. Smelling her perfume during church. The room where my uncle led class. The boiler room. The back hallway. The bugs in the baptistery waters. The planks we stood on to walk across it or place the living nativity. The yellow dress I wore the night I was baptized. Lining up for VBS in the street. My teen years. All the talent shows. Singing with my little sister and my cousin. All our preachers. All my teachers. The red elder chairs. Playing on the steps to the old building. Seeing Kevin there for the first time. Our college class. Getting married there. Rocking Shawna in the nursery. Lining Shawna up for VBS in the street. Moving to the YMCA. Moving to 4700. Worship in the fellowship hall. My choir. Late nights helping mom and dad decorate for VBS. Cantatas. The first time we used drums. Our band. SHINES. Higher Praise. My kids. Baptizing Shawna. CIY. Staff. WIP. Ministry. Purpose. Amazing moments. People. Friendships. Worship. Laughter. Mistakes. Questions. Tears. Choices. Goodbyes. Me. His presence.

Before me: Healing. Discovery. Worship. New friendships. New purpose. New amazing moments. New ministries. Dates with Kevin. A Christmas season free of commitment. A trip to Israel. My baby girl's wedding. Bible studies. Lining my grandchildren up for VBS. Watching Shawna and John mature in their faith and serving together. Watching my friends experience the desires of their hearts. The baptisms of my niece and nephews and hopefully my father. Me. And the rest of my life defining who that is. His presence.

The stones grow heavy and the waters wait for me to make a move.

Move Loretta. Move.

issues...

Kevin tells me I have issues. He tells me there are local eyes reading my blog that want me to just get over it already. ["It" meaning 2004's visit to hell and back.] Well, from their lips to God's ear. It's just this "getting over it" phrase we toss around, or yell across a table, is easier said than done some days, and equating the trauma of the last year or so with something like having to "get over" not winning control of the remote for the evening happens to offend me. Someone point me to this button I can switch on and off that simply erases it all and fast forwards me into a brand new slate free and clear of the residue that stubbornly refuses to release except in ever-unfolding layers. I'm working on it. I really am. But something that ranks itself next to losing my mother on the pain scale of my heart is just not that easily gotten over.

The frightening thing to me is this: I know myself well enough to know I will never, ever get over what happened and that scares me to death. I know myself well enough to know I will need to learn to live with it quietly and not in print or conversation because people are tired of hearing about it. But it's also frightening to me that of all the people this has affected, all but a few were able to move on pretty stinkin' quickly, like it was a bad case of heartburn. In my head it seems healthier to still have "issues" than not to but what do I know.

Apologies to the few of you who read this who have been disappointed in me or offended. I'd tell you to "get over it" but that would be sarcastic and not very grace filled so suffice it to say you won't read it here from now on. Just make no mistake, I'm far from over it and I'm not apologizing for feeling that way. I never understood how powerful a church community can be or how devastating it can be when it all falls apart. You can bet I'll take it slow second time around.

I hope you know how often I pray for everyone I left behind and how much it still hurts. I really am sorry if my words have hurt you. I obviously don't ooze as much as you thought...

haircut blog...

I've discovered I have what appears to be a "haircut blog". [A blog filled with mundane daily activities.] Well, nanner, nanner, booger snots...

It's hotter'n a snake's belly in a wheel rut...

not a bad night...

Spent a couple hours in the pool this afternoon but that sun was even too much for a sun goddess like myself so I headed indoors.

Decided to hit the Saturday night service so we can sleep in tomorrow, quite the perk for a lifetime Sunday morning participant. Sat with family and friends and enjoyed myself immensely. Great worship. Great message. Great video. {Coldplay in church, how cool is that?}

We headed to the Pizza Hut Bistro with a party of 12...16...18...all said and done. We had a wonderful time, aside from sub par service and screwed up orders. But even that worked out well for us. John & Shawna waited almost 2 hours for their pizza...{do not understand how that ever happened} so they comped (sp?) our entire ticket. This was a good night for that...2 salads, drinks, appetizer, sandwich, pasta and pizza...just for the four of us. So thank you Pizza Hut. It was crazy though. Not sure what happened.

Since Kev & I actually had our food an hour before John & Shawna, we had plenty of time to make room for twist cones at DQ...which she dropped on the floor before she passed them through the window. Kevin watched to make sure she didn't pick them up and hand them to us :)

It was fun getting out. I could get into this Saturday night church, dinner following and taking it easy on Sunday. My catholic friends have been onto something for a while now... Of course, I can't really take it too easy tomorrow. We have an afternoon rehearsal for the service tomorrow night so it will be busy but fun. I'm really looking forward to it. We'll see who blogs about it first...me or Ginny :)

Callin' it a night. Almost 11 and it's still hot out there. Can hardly wait to get my utility bill this month. Yeesh.

Nighty nite.

I swears it's hotter'n a goat's butt in a pepper patch...

randoms...

Overheard shortly after Kevin got home from work yesterday:
"I think I'm gonna go sit in that chair and stare at the wall."

Kevin's favorite phrase when he notices Tigger isn't corralled in the laundry room:
"Dead cat walking." [Translation: if that cat so much as sheds a hair on the carpet I'm going to bury my cat.]

My daddy just called to remind me that smothered steak, mashed potatoes and corn are on the lunch menu at the place today. He's been looking forward to this since Tuesday when we met him for meatloaf. [He skipped sub sandwiches and lasagna the last two days, obviously not his favorites...] Looks like I'm off the hook for cooking today! Also looks like I better hurry if I'm going to mop that kitchen floor and arrive with punctuality...

Actually when he called he just said "thuribles" and was mighty proud of himself for remembering what they were called. I'm pretty proud of him as well...

empty nesting...

My sister-in-law mentioned a book the other night, "Ten Dates for Empty Nesters" , that my brother-in-law gave her for her birthday, given that this fall both their children will be living on their own. I'm getting glimpses of this same lifestyle these days and last night John & Shawna headed to fuel and Kevin and I decided to take advantage of our rather lovely pool in the backyard. [It was afterall, a day of pampering :)] Recently we have alternated rousing matches of ping pong with the aquatic activities, namely floating and talking.

I'm sure our neighbors think we're bats, but no one made them haul that mound of dirt to their lot and place their house above our regulated fence, now did they? Kevin and I compete. [I posted that before. ] He hates to lose, I love to win and visa versa. But as we stood there last night battling over the placement of a small plastic ball, clad in dripping swimsuits with pool hair and barefeet, [hey, I wanted a 9 foot fence...] I looked across that table and adored my best friend in the whole wide world. As we laughed about chasing balls in an attempt to beat them to the edge of the pool or to the gaps under the fence, it felt a lot like old times. Like, 20+ years ago times, when we'd play nerf basketball for hours in his apartment, or when we created our own tennis net in my studio and played nerf tennis on our knees for eternity. The ole' physiques won't stop traffic these days, but I tell you what...that smile of his still stops my heart and I love him so.

I'm not looking forward to waking up and not being able to give my little girl a good morning hug, or see her come down the stairs looking amazing on her way to something fun, and a phone call just won't be the same. But I am looking forward to this next stage of life. Book or no book, Kevin and I are going to have a great time. If he lets me win it will be an even greater time, but that's completely up to him.

pamperings...

Don't read this if you had an awful day. Just don't. Don't even read this if you hate my guts because I quit my job and don't earn my keep. [I just overheard Kevin say from the kitchen, "this floor is absolutely filthy"...so Kevin, don't you read this either :)]

I had my nails done this morning. No big deal. But then I headed to Hannibal for my Shawna to highlight my hair and give me a trim. This is my 4th trip to her school not counting the times I have gone with Veronica or someone else, and I just thoroughly enjoy spending the day, or most of it, with her in this way. I remember her early weeks of school, looking at the different sections of students in graduated succession, trying to imagine Shawna up in the "front" room where the "upper classmen" are located. It was fun when she came home and announced she got her own station and would be able to display photos of her favorite people [namely John] around her vanity mirror...in the "front" room :)

I smiled at her recently as she rattled off some "industry" jargon like a second language and have thought over and again how she has found her niche. I'm really quite proud of her. Every time I go, I observe another student with poor work ethic or non-professional behavior [or attire] and then I look at her. She's just so perfect for something like this. I've had students and faculty tell me how she never complains, always helps, has repeat clients and most recently was asked to apply for a position at a very nice salon here in town, a salon that the teacher who asked her is also leaving to join. I think that speaks really well of her. Then there's the young single mother of a 3 year old that has started going to fuel and another that wants to, both students and both attracted to this "life" she leads. Yup. Pretty proud of her.

She's serviced stinky feet, nasty hair and rude or non-tipping customers and she has handled it with grace. And she has managed to retain my patronage and I'm one tough cookie. So I'm just really, really proud of her. And today, I sat and processed [chemically and mentally] the fact that this once little girl, whose beautiful long strands of hair I would play with and style like my lifelike Barbie doll, was foiling my fading blonde head of hair and conversing with me as a young woman ready to find her place in this world of ours. And my soul was pampered by the thoughts and memories. And as I lay half asleep receiving my very first facial [this is the part where the weary will snarl at me...] it was actually kinda weird having her massaging my aging face [hey, once gorgeous, always gorgeous...] and explaining to me to just relax and enjoy the process. Which I tried very hard to do, but couldn't resist jumping a bit and scaring her, just to hear her laugh.
One eyebrow waxing and we called it a day.

So, I'm good till the next tune up and looking forward to the day when I'll walk in to her very own salon, filled with nurtured patrons and find my way... to the washer and dryer to fetch more towels. Lol. Why not, it's not like my "absolutely filthy floor" is going anywhere :)

we have thuribles...

Two of them. Compliments of Fr. Curt at St. Francis. My poppa is going to pick them up when he goes to mass and return them when he goes to mass the next morning. Sweet. He didn't know what they were called either. Funny word actually. Thurible. Like durable with a lisp. Anyway, we've all learned something new and hopefully their addition to our service Sunday night will make an impact. BTW..if you're in the area and have Sunday night free..come join us! After last night's rehearsal, I think it's going to be pretty cool. GTTBHBA. 6:00. July 24. Crossing. 4800 Maine. BTBS. Be very square...

more...

I admit it. There. I miss my choir. A lot. I miss their faces, their cumulative abilities, their needing me and even their little individual quirks. I miss knowing them and being known by them. I miss our mission, our passion, our community, our...family. These last seven months have literally disappeared and I'm just not sure what to make of it. Somehow between the beginning of a very empty and slightly frightening new year that hinted of nothing with any certainty I found myself thick in the middle of this rehearsal last night and it felt...well, it felt good. It felt really good.

In the last few weeks I have struggled with not only finding my place but assuming my place. Always that pocket of guilt I reserve for digging into when I think of those I left behind and what they'll feel about me moving on. And truthfully a little lacking in the confidence department...that part of me that wants to keep them clapping isn't always sure what brand new people will think of me or my abilities. But last night those insecurities didn't make the trip across town for some reason. I had a great time. I knew their names. I made suggestions. I laughed. They laughed. And I think the significant part was this sense I had that they trusted me...at least musically, that they found the confidence to enjoy themselves because I was standing in front of them and they needed me a little. That just felt...familiar and very nice. It sure didn't hurt that amid these new faces were six others that have faithfully journeyed this stretch at my side. Often times believing enough for both of us, both in me, and in a God that has yet to reveal His mighty plans for us all. I had a great time. I actually found myself closing my eyes and wailing my heart out in worship and discovering abruptly that I had forgotten I was standing in front of a strange group of people, on a strange stage, with a strange band in a strange place. And maybe it wasn't so much forgetting as it was realizing it all wasn't quite as strange as it had been. I felt comfortable and that's pretty huge for me.

We plan to close the night with a new song Neal has written called "More". I didn't really realize until last night how fitting that song actually is. At first when he placed it at the end of "Agnus Dei" I wasn't sure it belonged there. I was wrong. Anyone who has been able to enjoy that song in a moment of sincere worship knows what I mean when you could go on singing "holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty...worthy is the Lamb, worthy is the Lamb" for eternity and to head right into some perky praise song, well I had my doubts. But last night he began lifting the tempo into this new song and I'm telling you it was sweet. All of us ending that set singing at the top of our lungs "I need more!" Can I just say I'm eternally grateful He chose music as my talent and passion. Bless Him. My life and heart overflow with moments like last night. I can carefully connect them like push pins on the map of my journey and they are precious points of grace. Precious and sorely missed.

More. I need more. More of Him and more of "this". And I'm beginning to think that's exactly what He has in mind...

carl's shoes...

Several years ago...in all actuality more than several...I sang a couple jingles for WGEM and one of them was for Carl's Shoes. My elementary kids used to get a hoot out of hearing it on the radio and I honestly rather enjoyed that they got a hoot out of it. I haven't heard it in forever but my dad told me he had been hearing it lately. Well I'm sitting here checking my email with the TV on and low and behold..."carl's shoes (echo), carl's shoes (echo)...yup. That's me...and you call me friend you lucky people...lol.

thurible

I learned something new today. I'm trying to borrow these swinging incense burners that are used to incense the casket at a Catholic Funeral Mass. I found out today they are called thuribles and so far I haven't been able to secure them from anyone.[Still working on it...] I was online searching for an outlet and found them ranging anywhere from $4.95- well over $1,000. The cheap ones are on a magic/witchcraft/wikkan website and I may have to bite the bullet and order a couple if I can't borrow them somewhere else. I need two for our upcoming worship experience at church Sunday night so I don't have a lot of time. If I cave, I'm praying something thurible doesn't happen to me...

precious...

"Derek Duncan of East 91st Street Christian Church (Indianapolis) guest-lectured in my class in Austria. Part of what he said still lingers in my memory. Amidst the other points he made to the students, he said, "always tell the truth." He didn’t mean "don’t lie"; he meant "tell people the whole truth"—"don’t fudge on the information."[Gospel Messenger, July 2005]

That there's a mighty nifty idear...how's that research comin' B??

phew.

The weather line said it was July 18th this morning and I thought...you've got to be kidding. How did we get to July 18th already? Good stinkin' grief. Things have definitely been flying by lately...and honestly, this last week I haven't had time to cave into much of a funk so we're moving a bit farther on down the road today. I'm sitting a bit brighter than I was at last posting. Sorry about that. But hey, no one's making you read this stuff.

Anyhoo. In the last few weeks I've been to Branson and back, played for a 3 weddings, sweltered at a swim meet, wallowed in a few painful memories, written harmonies to several songs, cleaned the house top to bottom [with a little help from my girls at MM], rehearsed several times for a worship night we have coming up, hosted a monthly jam session and pulled off a dual couple's shower with 40 guests in my backyard with the help of my little sister. It. Has. Been. Crazy. And it about killed me given the fact I've been relatively dormant for the better part of 2005.

Brian was able to play with us Tuesday night, that was great fun and wow do I miss that... The shower on Wednesday night was a blast, even if it was a bit warm...the rain didn't even think of sending all those people into my kitchen! I was so busy preparing, hostessing and cleaning up, I barely noticed my baby girl was having her first bridal shower. I swear to pay more attention from here on out. We may hit the wedding dress trail again this weekend. As fast as we've watched the last few months disappear, it's frightening how soon this will all be upon us.

There are 2 buses full of MPCC kids headed to CIY conference in Carbondale this morning. Please cover them in prayer...although I may never completely recover from the excessive heat I endured the 5 times I attended as a sponsor, I will always deeply cherish those trips. The worship especially, but also the girls huddled in the hallway in their pajamas every night, sharing munchies and hearts and often times tears. It was always such an enormous week for us. I always went as a leader but always came back assured I will always have so much to learn.

Well. I need to do something, even if it's wrong (that's what my dad always says...) so I'll bid you adieu. I'm feeling a bit out of sync lately. Not sure what's bugging me...just not 100% for some reason. I'll have to chase that rabbit and get back to you. For now, have a great Monday. It beats having a sucky one...

on the road again...

I posted the previous entry right before I left to make my second trip to Sheridan of the day. [Emma was swimming her very first mile!] I had all that funk stuff running through my mind and honestly, if I'd had more time I would have taken 12th & not 24th, but I didn't want to miss her event. As I passed the intersection to begin this dreaded stretch, I actually said outloud: "This is just a street. What happened here hurt a great deal. But we are all okay. We are all, more than okay and the men who hurt us have to live with what they said and did the rest of their lives. We are stronger and we are wiser because of it all. And the person Kevin talked with is an ... well, let's just say it isn't the first time they've said something stupid. I have to let this go."

On my drive home, I was actually a little better. Heck, if Emma can swim a stinkin' mile, surely I can drive this one without losing it. Even if I had to drive past two of their houses on the way. Maybe I needed all those runs across town this weekend to deal with this and move on from this part of the road. Heaven knows if it were to hit me all at the same time I'd be in a padded cell. It was just so big and so deep. And this is my journal so it's where I throw the big and deep stuff. It still makes me want to vomit but it's just not doing me any good to be here. I just hate like mad it had to happen at all.

Done.

road to nowhere...

I've been taking 24th street to Sheridan Swim Club the last few days, actually, I've gone that route 4 days in a row and it's the oddest thing. That particular stretch of road has this omninous feel to it and has me in a bit of a funk. I've been doing my best to shake it off, even tried alternative routes and still, it's almost eerie due to the place and time it takes me back to in my mind. [and stomach] This road leads nowhere except funktown and I have no interest in making a visit. Then I hear of a conversation Kev had with someone recently about events leading to that road to nowhere and I let it get under my skin. I know better. I just plain know better and still I let it get to me. I just want this behind me.

Seriously. I just want it all to go away.

-People will never know the truth
-Most don't want to know the truth
-The rest decided the truth was whatever was easiest to believe

This has satan all over it. This week is going to rock. So get behind me snake and leave me alone...and take your distractions with you.

surprise!

My dad has never been easy to buy for: new clothes sit in the closet and watch as the old stand byes rank selection time and again over their new tags; you can only have so many fishing poles and related gear; gift certificates reach antiquity long before they see the light of day and sending him on a trip somewhere just isn't up his creek. Last year I was paying attention and the Fey's and us took him to see a Grotto in Iowa that he had told me about...that was a nice gift and one we all will long remember. This year we had father's day and his birthday again and I just couldn't come up with much to get him that didn't categorize itself into "gifts for the sake of gifts". Until...I spotted that his birthday was on a Saturday [yesterday] and he always goes to the Saturday 5:15 mass...I also noticed that Shawna and I were doing a wedding there in the afternoon and we'd already have our stuff set up....so, I called the music director and asked if we might be able to do the music for the mass as a surprise for his birthday. I was pleased and a bit surprised to find out how receptive he was to having us come. Turns out we could pick anything we wanted to sing and he'd love to have us relieve him of finding someone else for the schedule.

It ended up dad had tickets to a concert for last night and I had to call and juggle for the 8:00 mass this morning. {perfect being the early risers we are...} I told dad we were coming to mass with him as a birthday present just to be sure he was at that same mass and then we arrived before him, got set up and walked to his favorite pew in the last row of the church {more leg room for his long frame} to explain we wouldn't exactly be sitting with him. The look on his face: priceless. The reason for the look? He asks me if I know what I'm doing :) I think he was nervous I was going to screw something up. {It's always possible...but leading the music for mass at all the catholic grade schools for 20 years in addition to all the weddings...well, I wasn't as worried about that as he seemed to be. He did manage to make me a bit more "aware" of the pressure to do it well. This was his turf, his people, his community of faith.}

Veronica, Shawna and I took our places and the place filled with mostly older folks with a few younger ones mixed in. Fr. Curt, who had celebrated the mass for the wedding the day before, is always gracious and encouraging and made us feel quite welcome, which I might add is not always the case from parish to parish...especially since we aren't Catholic. Anyhoo, he had suggested I choose more traditional songs for the older ears {some things are the same no matter where you go...} and I think we found a nice mix of songs that we knew and were familiar ones to the congregation. It was fun rehearsing the night before for this...kept thinking how much mom would have enjoyed it, and it was a blast surprising dad.

Kevin sat with him in the back and told me afterwards he himself puddled up every time we sang. I attribute this to the heavenly acoustics, as well as the sentimental aspects involved. It was kind of cool to hear Shawna singing "How Beautiful" in her angelic sweetness and watching dad receive communion in the center aisle and realizing the significance of what we were all experiencing. I know to Shawna, the whole liturgical style is still foreign to her, as it was for me once upon a time. But once I got past the feeling of betraying my belief system, I was able to pour myself into leading this time of worship just like I did in my own congregation. There is a certain beauty in the liturgy and I have always found it to be a meaningful expression of worship...complete with a real sense of His presence when my mind and heart allow it to be.

Fr. Curt announced dad's birthday at the end, and impressively remembered all our names. Dad looked as pleased as he can look and I honestly think we couldn't have given him more than we did today. I told him, if he knew what I charge these days, it was a heck of a present!

We stood outside and watched as he pointed out all the incredibly difficult places on the various steeples he had worked over the years, all the metal work, gutters, etc. I'd hurl if I had to even think about suspending myself in places like that and I thought to myself: this man isn't afraid of anything. With him in my world, I'm not either really. He's a perfect picture of the arms of God protecting me and watching over me. And I thank Him for such a wonderful father.

I pray He grants him enough birthdays to be baptized; for a long, healthy life in the years to come and my peace of mind for the eternity to follow...

I rule...

As long as I can remember I have competed with Kevin. This began in our pre-dating years and has followed us faithfully along this shared life of ours. Most are friendly little challenges that more than usually develop accidentally but some end with blood shed.

Several years ago we were innocently walking the mall after hours and all was well for a few laps. Call it boredom or just the fierce desire to beat the snot out of him but I gradually began pacing just beyond him. This too lasted a lap or two until we were at that break between a fast walk and slow jog. I decided to add the theatre steps to my routine and took two at a time just to defeat him once and for all. Bad call. Given I had a cell phone in my hand and as my foot completely missed the intended step I in all my wisdom decided to fall sans hands. Right into the bridge of my cute little nose. This sent my fatigued, panicked husband to a bathroom for some tissue and ended with a trip to the ER for a flattering set of stitches I'd spend a week explaining to the curious.

Well. Tonight the monster returned in full glory. What began as a recreational round of water ping pong in the pool resulted in a resurrection of our official size pp table that had hibernated in the garage since our move several years ago. The memories of our addiction to this sport until well into the night came flooding back as I completely leveled this man of mine. We're talking complete annihilation. Poor thing. His arms still hurt a bit from that fall and for some reason I was just destroying him tonight. It actually feels pretty good. I'm not sure what the neighbors will make of our rediscovered passion but I'm sure the police will be more than happy to stop by and let us know if we violate any noise ordinances.

Kevin just walked past the den and said, "Be sure and tell them I had crippled hands." I laughed at how well he knows me, and then he said, "I was just thinking...I'll bet that witch is in there blogging about it..."

Damn straight I am. I won.

Christmas in July...

I need someone to tell me not to feel guilty. I just got the generic "Journey to Bethlehem" letter in the mail today...actually haven't read it through..just guessing they're gearing up for this year's production and need volunteers. I wouldn't mind helping, really I'd probably enjoy it...but, just not this year. This year I don't want to do anything in December. In what memory I have left, I can't seem to recall more than one year I didn't have my plate completely full over Christmas, and this year I want it empty. I want to enjoy my home, my family, my....empty calendar. And I'm feeling a little guilty about these selfish desires. So, someone out there in blog land tell me it would be okay to slack off this year without completely jeopardizing my salvation.

Begin.

I may be fat, but you're ugly and I can always lose weight...

So I'm sitting at the Sheridan swim meet today waiting for Emma and Chandler's events, smack dab in the middle of hundreds of swim suited humans and my mind found ample time to wander. Among other things I'm thinking to myself: "Would I rather have an ugly face and an amazing body, or an amazing face and a not so amazing body?" Shallow I am. But that's what I was thinking. Along with the fact that it just isn't fair for a lucky few to get both...

So we're leaving Wendy's at lunch today and I'm telling dad that I discovered some scratches on the back of my ankle this morning when the water from my shower painfully made contact with my skin. I was commenting they were war wounds from the previous evening's escapades with the new rope dad gave Chandler for his birthday. [It had metal clamps on each end so it screamed "tie Aunt Ret to her chair, throw her on the ground, lasso her legs, arms, you name it...] As I was saying, we were walking out the door and as I'm whining about it Chandler quickly grabs the payphone and mockingly says, "Hello? 911? Come quick, my Aunt has scratches on her leg."

That's pretty funny stuff.

His room number is 2438 Bed A. I'm sure he'd appreciate your cards when he comes to...

we're back...

No huge fireworks.

No "God Bless the USA".

No timeshare.

No way Kevin is ever going back.


You either love or hate Branson, MO, and we had both sides represented. We did however, have a great time, depending on what mood you catch Kevin in when you ask him. The kids loved it all...Dixie Stampede [where my favorite face of the whole evening was John's when they asked David, who was seated next to him, to be an audience volunteer...dreams are made of moments like that for this one who aspires to having his own theatre on the strip with the strains of the singing Mitchell's wafting through the hillbilly air...] They also managed to enjoy go karts, water slide, swimming and miniature golf.

Kevin and I were inches from purchasing a timeshare. If not for the big ticket events we have approaching in the year to come, we may have done so. Just to have a reason to go somewhere besides the backyard...not that our backyard isn't where we like to be, just a change of pace. It was really nice to spend some time together on vacation with the Feys and equally enjoyable to hear the kids take turns telling dad about the trip when we got home. Lots of road time, but a great time had by all.

There were tons of funny lines coming from the seat behind me but they fail me now. John just makes me laugh. Can't explain it. Don't even want to try, but the boy is funny. He did say one of the sweetest things to me on our way back. I can't remember what took us there, but he said "Of all the guys in the world, I'll take care of her the best." That's a hefty promise to make about my little girl, but I found it as sincere and sweet as they come.

We hit the ground running, including the celebration of Chandler's 9th birthday. We spent it at the park watching Harrison's ball game, eating chicken, cake and fielding some balls. Even dad hit. And I don't think Harrison was on his feet more than a minute at a time. He was dirt from head to toe. Kevin and I took Chandler shopping for his presents, which yielded him a nice selection of well thought out decisions. [He told me, "You shop with me, you hang with me" and he means it...quite a little thinker...] Came home, christened his new remote controlled boat and submarine in the pool and hit the sheets around 1:00 this morning. He's still out, but we'll need to get rolling here soon.

I sure does love my family. And Chandler. Well. If you have any little girls around 9, you'll want to give him a look. He's smart, adorable, sensitive, funny, helpful around the house, loves handiwork, loves sports, loves shopping, loves snuggling...He's your guy. But you'll need to fill out pages of qualifications to meet his momma's approval before she's ever letting this one go. He's a real dandy.

Have a wonderful Thursday. I need to scoot.

all the doings...

Well. I'm pooped but before I do some last minute bill pay and head to bed let me give you the best parts of my day.

Kev & I were out the door by 7:00 this morning to meet my papa at Steak & Shake for breakfast. Then we headed to a favorite pond of his to drown some worms. We even bought ourselves new rods & reels for the occasion. It was one of the most glorious mornings of all time. Cool breeze, warm sunshine and the two most wonderful men in my life on either side of me. Telling me how to fish. I know how to fish, it's just been a while. Dad sure didn't get much fishin' done between removing my catches and re-baiting my hook. Most were little tykes but I did manage to out fish Kevin and caught 3 nice bass and a large sunfish. The rest passed for bait. [Kevin told me this was not to be a competition as the two of us are shamelessly prone to doing, but as soon as he hooked one and started counting, he was going down.] John and Shawna joined us mid-morning so dad was really busy keeping us all tended. We finished up around noon, let Abby go for a swim and reveled in a morning well spent.

The afternoon was spent in the pool, as if we weren't already fried and then we headed to church, where I had to smile at seeing my sweet friend back where she belongs...leading worship on team. Beautiful. Rounded off the evening at Elder's with the Fey's and dad. Didn't really want to leave town tomorrow without one last meal with pop. Just the way we are.

I'm all packed for the most part and just need to get some bills on their way before we tool out of town for a couple days. As I write this I can hear fireworks exploding near by...even though just about everything that goes pop has been outlawed in our little county. Pretty much everything was outlawed last year too but I have vivid memories of watching a $100 variety pack of explosive materials sail through the air above our address and nearly peed my pants when one went zing instead of zang and about blew up my sister's Explorer. Good times.

Happy Red, White & Blue everyone. Think of me throughout the day on Monday, assured I'll be listening to "God Bless the USA" as only John can sing it. Wonder if he packed that cd...

sleep tight.

today's headline...

brian posted.

tpofe...

Caught up my "power of full engagement" calendar again...and liked this one: "Imagine yourself in a boat with a leak. Your purpose immediately becomes mobilized around not sinking. But as long as you are busy bailing water, you can't navigate toward a destination. The same is true in our lives. When we are preoccupied with just staying afloat, we have little energy available to define any deeper or more enduring purpose."

I also liked one they used from the book "How to Think Like Leonardo da Vinci" asking: "Where are you when you get your best ideas?" The short version is that "almost no one, claims to get their best ideas at work."

So go home. And tell your boss I said so.

stuff...

I have too much of it. Many people do, but I probably put a large percentage of them to shame. I have a picture that hangs above my kitchen sink, "Never enough baskets". My sister was a Longaberger consultant for several years so my collection grew nicely and more affordably, although I shiver to think how much $$$ is accumulated on my shelves.

I was deservedly embarrassed and at the same time giddily surprised to climb up and retrieve my large picnic basket to use as part of my patriotic display in the foyer...only to hear it clink with what appeared to be several items inside of some mystery to me. This is where I shamed myself. There were several summer season Longaberger items within that I had completely forgotten I had. I'm not sure I've ever used them. It was at the same time a bit humiliating and totally cool. I really like what I found and it was fun discovering them all over again.

I almost opted to skip the rwb decor for the year, since we'll be gone over the 4th, but I went ahead and dug some stuff out and tinkered with them last night. My cousin Jill, Veronica and I have for years and years, remembered each other on every holiday with some small seasonal item, which as the years progress and collections grow, seems to become more difficult to do. Well, Jill gave us each this adorable chip dish shaped like a star complete with rwb nacho chips to go with it and I felt compelled to decorate. I must say that there is something quite fun about coming downstairs the morning after I change "seasons"...a fresh eye...a little variety. Fun stuff.

There's that "stuff" word again. I have a lot of seasonal "stuff". When we moved to this house, we did so in a hurry in the same week as the cantata and I hadn't completely sifted through things. [Still haven't] I remember my nephew Tommy standing in the middle of the assembly line that was hauling boxes from the truck outside to the basement yelling out seasons as they passed. "St. Patrick's Day"..."Valentine's Day"... "Easter"... "Halloween"... "Halloween"... more "Halloween"... "Oh my.... here comes Christmas!"

He's a funny one that one. I should give him a nice starter collection when he marries Whitney...oh, well. I come from a long line of stuff hoarders and from the looks of it, Shawna is off to a nice start. But if you ever need a leprechaun soap dispenser, I'm your gal.