This Thing Called a Blog

I vaguely remember having this thing called a blog where I posted all sorts of inane things and perfect strangers (and far too many people who know me) came and read them.

And then I lived for a week with some of my readers.

One should not blog about ones blog fodder when the blog fodder reads the blog. Unless one had very complementary things to say at which time said fodder still sometimes misinterprets good things as bad things. So.....

I'm trying to come up with something new besides:

A person just doesn't realize the degree of filth that s/he is living in until s/he lives in immaculate conditions for a week.

Which gives nice goal setting opportunities.

But also creates overwhelming panic (especially by husbands).

Because it is impossible to sanitize an entire house in a day.

Especially when children are home from school.

And all of the blog fodder hasn't yet checked out.

(And very nice blog fodder it is.)

Got dishes to do....

Happy New Year's Eve to ya!

Only Nuns Change Habits Overnight (and weenie goals for January)

Every woman longs for change in some area of her life. Unfortunately, fear, fatigue, adversity, heartbreak, past failures, and even the choices of other people get in the way and make lasting change seem out of reach. Having been there herself, Karen Linamen knows exactly how to take readers from where they are to where they want to be.

In Only Nuns Change Habits Overnight, she examines 52 powerful actions readers can apply to any change they long to embrace. Her insights apply to career, finances, personal health and fitness, relationships, faith—in fact, every facet of a woman’s life.

Blending laugh-out-loud humor and sage advice, Linamen shows readers the link between dissatisfaction and transformation, how to remodel habits, the little-known truth about procrastination, how to generate the energy they need to pursue the life they desire, how to benefit from options and resources they never dreamed they had, and much, much more!

Karen Linamen is a popular speaker and the celebrated author of ten books for women, including Due to Rising Energy Costs the Light at the End of the Tunnel Has Been Turned Off and Just Hand Over the Chocolate and No One Will Get Hurt. She has been featured on more than one hundred radio programs, including FamilyLife Today. Publishers Weekly describes her as “funny, forthright and unforgettable.” Linamen lives with her family in Colorado Springs, Colorado. Visit her website at www.karenlinamen.com.

My new habits for January?
1. eat oatmeal every morning before 9. (I've fallen out of the breakfast habit)
2. only two Pepsis a day. (hey, that's huge for me)
3. exercise three times a week (does playing tennis on the Wii count if it makes me sore?)
4. organize one room (hopefully if I do one, I'll do four)

that's it. that's all. press go.

The Queen of Sleepy Eye by Patti Hill

Just in case you are looking for some good reading for Christmas, I wanted to pop on here with one more recommendation. I read this one over my Thanksgiving "break" and it was wonderful. (Even made me realize my family isn't quite as strange as I thought.) I wondered what the heck was going on for a while (she starts present day and then goes back to her teens and it threw me for a bit) but the more I read, the more wonderful the book was. It wasn't just some surface ditty. It was meaty and excellent. I highly, HIGHLY, recommend it. And in case you didn't notice, I don't say that often.

Here's back cover copy:

It's the summer of 1975, and sensible seventeen-year-old Amy Monteiro longs for the freedom of college life in California. But when her mom's beloved 1958 Pontiac Bonneville Sports Coupe surrenders to a mortally wounded transmission in Colorado, it doesn't take long for Amy to realize that her insufferable, tiara-toting mom, Francie--former queen of the Sleepy Eye Corn Festival--is out of money and in no hurry to let go of her daughter.

In a time of great change, and in this small Colorado town, Amy will find herself caught up in the struggle between the past and present, young and old, geeks and jocks, hippies and the establshment, even life and death. And during this one unforgettable summer, both mother and daughter will grow up.

I know, I know, the 70s, but trust me, it is soooooo good.

Houston, we have a problem.

Frodo took a trip with Popin on Saturday to the Disney store. (Popin didn't get the memo that says don't take a child anywhere near toys, nor let them watch tv with commercials the week before Christmas, or you are sure to disappoint them because they will see 33 things that are absolute necessities to be wrapped and under the tree.)

Frodo, who for months has wanted the American Girl Coconut dog (and accessories) for Christmas for SIX MONTHS no matter what else mom suggested..........

wants BOLT. Only BOLT. Nothing but BOLT will do. Coconut who?

Hubs and I counted presents and dollars spent and decided we could spring for one more gift for Frodo expecting a $10 stuffed animal. Yes, I had to go to the mall AGAIN. The WEEK BEFORE Christmas. But I could do it for my child's brilliant smile on Christmas day. Disney Store here I come.

There were exactly three BOLTs in the Disney store. All HUGE and $40.

One, I'm categorically opposed to large stuffed animals. Two, forty bucks? For a stuffed animal? A huge one at that? Is it inlaid with gold? You can get diamonds for that. (Champagne ones, even.)

OK, call me crazy, but if you are going to put out a movie a month before Christmas, will you not stock your store with all the applicable action figures so as to make a pant load of money? Is every child that sees the movie NOT going to want something?

Seriously?

And if that isn't bad enough, they are a monopoly until the gravy train runs out. So it isnt like you can stop off at Wal-Mart and grab a mini-bolt. Oh, no. You gotta shell out the $40 for the ginormous stuffed BOLT.

I did walk away. Even though he told his entire kindergarten he was getting BOLT.

But Seriously?

(Still haven't decided if we take back three or four of his presents and let him have BOLT. Only BOLT. How much do you think he really cares? Of course it will probably be sold out by tomorrow, anyway.)

Living Rich for Less

I devoured a book while I held down the couch yesterday (Charming thinks he only has to nap if he's being held so I get a lot of couch time (shut up, he's my baby)). What an effective, encouraging book this is. Dave Ramsey-esque and with a lot of practical advice (not all couponing--though this girl wants to know how the couponing people do it because they just never work out like that for me--someone needs to do a book just on that). And hey, I have an extra for one lucky commenter!

You really can be rich in every way, every day.

So you want to own the home you love, make memories on wonderful vacations with family or friends, finance college educations, and help others too?

You can—starting here and now.

With lively humor, proven know-how, and practical principles for financial health, Living Rich for Less helps you stretch your dollars to realize the lifestyle of your dreams. Ellie Kay’s entertaining and enlightening examples show you simple steps to save, spend, and give smart, and her three main principles are undergirded by dozens of effective rules and hundreds of Cha-Ching Factor™ tips that keep or put money in your pocket.

Ellie knows what it’s like to be financially-strapped or struggling, wanting to be the Joneses but feeling as poor in spirit as in pocketbook. She went, within two and a half years, from being a new wife and mom with $40,000 in consumer debt and seven children (and college educations) to support, to being completely debt-free and within fifteen years able to pay cash for eleven different cars, give away three of those cars, buy two five-bedroom houses (moving from one to the other) and nicely furnish each, take wonderful vacations, dress her family in fine fashion; and support more than thirty non-profit organizations in more than a dozen different countries, giving away more than $100,000.

Isn’t that the kind of transformation to a rich life that you want?

Living Rich for Less helps anyone get there in our taxed-out, maxed-out times. Because financial security doesn’t mean just genuine prosperity, but being able to live luxuriously, give generously, and care for yourself as well as the others around you.

Why keep up with the Joneses when you can be them

Never Mind

I decided to try and see what kind of cash I could make on ads in my sidebar. And they promised they would be appropriate and relevant. What is the first one I see?

"Married & Available" Discreet services for online dating for married people.

My apologies, friends. I would never advocate that. I'll lose the ads, asap.

Oh My Goodness, I have no words.

Lyrics to New, Original Songs on "All I Really Want for Christmas"
by Steven Curtis Chapman (2005 Sparrow Records, EMI CMG)

Well, I don't know if you remember me or not
I'm one of the kids they brought in from the home
I was the red-haired boy in an old, green flannel shirt
You may not have seen me, I was standing off alone

I didn't come and talk to you 'cause that's never worked before
And you'll probably never see this letter, anyway
But just in case there's something you can do to help me out
I'll ask you one more time

All I really want for Christmas is someone to tuck me in
A shoulder to cry on if I lose, shoulders to ride on if I win
There's so much I could ask for, but there's just one thing I need
All I really want for Christmas is a family

Well, I guess I should go ahead and tell you now
If it's really true about that list you have
Somehow I always seem to end up in a fight
But I'm really trying hard not to be bad

But maybe if I had a brother or a dad to wrestle with
Maybe they could teach me how to get along
And from everything I've heard, it sounds like the greatest gift on earth
Would be a mom

All I want for Christmas is someone who'll be here
To sing me happy birthday for the next 100 years
And It's okay if they're not perfect or even if they're a little broken
That's alright, 'Cause so am I

Well, I guess I should go, it's almost time for bed
Maybe next time I write you I'll be at home

`Cause all I really want for Christmas is someone to tuck me in
Tell me I'll never be alone, someone whose love will never end
Of all that I could ask for, well, there's just one thing I need
All I really want for Christmas is a family

time suck

It is days like this, when Hubs stays home and picks the kids up from school for me, that I realize how very much of my life is spent driving them around.

And they are all eight and under.

I keep looking at the clock thinking dang, they aren't home yet?

Nope, neither would I be.

Time suck, I tell ya.

call me strange

Hubs thinks it's funny that I was eating Blue Bell Cherry Vanilla out of the carton while I watched Biggest Loser.

I think it made it not taste all that great and I ate far less than usual.

Well, that or I'm just balmin' cold.

Each to his own.

Snow Days (that should have been) Musings

Apparently we are the only school district in the entire metro that didn't close due to snow today.

The buses are conspicuously absent from running, I noticed. Probably because they wouldn't make it up our hill.

The postman will walk his route past my house today. His powerful little truck can't make it up the hill in snow either.

I hope we can get back to the school to get the kids home later.

Hub's won't go in to the office.

Maybe we can get some "Christmas Gift Decisions" done.

Which is why he doesn't work from home much.

I'm cold.

I'm glad I don't live any farther north.

We Always Knew She was Royalty

Who is that adorable wiseperson number 4?

"Excuse me, is this the palace of King Herod?"

"Gold!"

"We don't think so."

"Sure thing, King."

"Excuse me. We have come to worship the newborn king."

Lying on Sunday by Sharon K. Souza

If you wanna read a crazy good book soon, have I got one for you. I couldn't put it down. Yes, it is built on some awfully sad ideas, but Sharon K Souza writes awfully sad topics astoundingly well. And she has a way of writing forty something female friendship in such a way that I am physically hungry for that kind of relationship in my life (this coming from a woman who had no room for females in my life until about three years ago--it will take time, I'm sure).

AN INTERVIEW WITH SHARON K. SOUZA

Author of Lying on Sunday

1. In your previous novel, Every Good & Perfect Gift, you address the tough issues of infertility and catastrophic illness. Again, in Lying on Sunday, you've tackled a tough subject, that being infidelity. Why do you choose such tough topics?

I like to write stories that speak to women on deep and personal levels. None of us gets through this life without being affected in some form by sadness, loss, a sense of failure over one issue or another, and having been failed. I think when we know we're not the only one going through these types of situation--and it's so easy to feel that you are alone--it gives us hope that we really can come through, not necessarily unscathed, but certainly stronger and more equipped to help others.

2. Do heavy topics equal a heavy reading experience?

Definitely not. I firmly believe that pleasure reading should first and foremost be entertaining. Time is a precious commodity. I hope that readers who choose to spend some of their precious hours in the pages of my books will thoroughly enjoy the experience.

So even though I tackle tough subjects, I infuse enough humor to keep those subjects from becoming an albatross around the reader's neck. Conversely, I love to read for pleasure, but I want to take something away from the experience.

3. What would you have readers take away from Lying on Sunday?

In one day, Abbie Torrington has the underpinnings of her world knocked out from under her. Everything she thinks she knows about her marriage turns out to be false. It leaves her reeling in the aftermath. Years ago, while dealing with health issues in my own life, a close friend gave me a Precious Moments figurine entitled "Light at the End of the Tunnel." In Lying on Sunday I want to show that even with issues as devastating as betrayal there is always a light at the end of the tunnel, and for me that Light, of course, is Jesus.

4. Lying on Sunday deals with the betrayal of infidelity, but are there other forms of betrayal that the book might speak to?

Types of betrayal obviously vary, but the end results can be equally devastating. Any time a trust is broken between people in relationship, someone is going to be hurt. We can either allow those hurts to hinder us, or we can allow the Lord to use them as lessons to make us better and stronger. That brings to mind the old adage "What doesn't kill me makes me stronger." Well, through her own devastating experience Abbie becomes a stronger, more independent person than she knew she could be.

5. Once again you've written a story with a strong and vital friendship that's central to the story. Was that coincidence or by design?

Absolutely by design. I'm all about relationships and so are my characters. Having gone through a period in my early adulthood without a close friend, I know how important friends are in our lives. In fact, I've recently reconnected with two friends from high school, one I hadn't seen in 25 years, and the other in over 30 years. But relationships between women, while vital, can be very complex. That's certainly true for Abbie. Besides her close friendship with Shawlie Bryson, she has a close relationship with one daughter and a challenging relationship with the other, mostly because of the very different emotional place these girls are in while dealing with the death of their father. Not only that, but Abbie has a strained relationship with her own mother for reasons she eventually discovers. I'm certain that women of each one of these generations will relate to one or the other of these characters, especially the woman caught in the middle, where she's both the daughter and the mother.

6. Truth is a theme you deal with extensively in Lying on Sunday. In a book that deals with betrayal, wouldn't forgiveness be a more fitting theme?

I believe forgiveness is the key to getting beyond the kind of hurt Abbie experiences - which doesn't necessarily equate to restored relationship. (In Abbie's case, of course, that's impossible anyway.) But the discovery of truth is a huge first step in the process. In any difficult situation we can choose to ignore the facts and try to keep life on an even keel. But there inevitably comes a day of reckoning. For Abbie to arrive at the desired destination, there are some unpleasant truths she must acknowledge and deal with. She's dogged by a scripture from John 8:32 that says the truth will set you free. Only she can decide whether or not she'll let it.

7. What is the most satisfying thing that comes out of your writing?

I love hearing from readers, especially those I don't know, who say my stories have touched them in one way or another, and most importantly, have helped them see more clearly how good and loving our Lord is.

8. What are you working on now, and does it continue in the style of Lying on Sunday and Every Good & Perfect Gift?

My work in progress, Unraveled, is another contemporary novel about a young woman who gives a year of her life to help teach children in Moldova, a small country in eastern Europe. While there she experiences a crisis of fath (the story ultimately deals with human trafficking). And yes, it continues in the style of my previous novels.

9. Is there anything you'd like to add?

Naturally I love to hear from readers. You can email me through my website: http://www.sharonksouza.com. If you're in a book club and choose to read any of my books I'll send a complimentary book to the person who contacts me on behalf of their group. Then, after you read the book I'd love to participate in your group discussion, either by phone or in person if you're close enough for me to drive to.

Randomness

Charming has taken on the pinkeye. I know that prescription medications are intended only for the one prescribed, but if the bottle can serve three people...never mind. I won't ask.

Eldest woke with a headache. I called in sick to CBS where I was supposed to "volunteer" to help with kids. When Eldest found out he couldn't watch TV all day, he was miraculously healed. I called back and went in to "volunteer." The school called soon to send Eldest home with a headache and "fever" (of 99.5). He spent the day in bed. And then watched TV. Complained of his head all day. As a person that has migraines, I want them to be able to have headaches without a fever and stay home from school, but don't know how to screen out the fakeouts. Except to not let them out of bed when they stay home sick. But my point here is that it's a good thing that Hubs worked from home today because I wasn't home today to pick up the apparently sick child.

I have finished writing and editing my article and it is now in the hands of my crit parnters. I must send it in this week. I can't sleep until it is in. I don't know why I get so excited to be assigned these things. They make me cranky.

I quit teaching science at my kids' school two weeks ago. Well, I quit two weeks before Thanksgiving, but I've not taught for the last two weeks. I can't tell you how much I enjoy Wednesdays now. I even did some crazy cleaning. Clothes sorting. Now if I could just convince myself to dust.

I think I will go have some Cherry Vanilla Blue Bell to celebrate being nearly done with my article.

Just in time for the next round of assignments.

When the Soul Mends by Cindy Woodsmall

At Last..........(Can you hear Etta James singing?)

It's been a long time coming (August 2006 via November 2007) but Hannah has her resolution!

Ah, Cindy Woodsmall is some kind of author.

After receiving a desperate and confusing call from her sister, Hannah Lapp reluctantly returns to the Old Order Amish community of her Pennsylvania childhood.

Having fled in disgrace two years earlier, she finally has found a satisfying role in the Englischer world, as well as love with Martin Palmer, a man with whom she can safely entrust her heart. But almost immediately after her arrival in Owl’s Perch, the disapproval of those who ostracized her reopens old wounds.

As Hannah is thrown together with former fiancé Paul Waddell to work for her sister Sarah’s mental health, unexpected truths surface about the events during Hannah’s absence, and she faces an agonizing decision. Will she choose the Englischer world and the man who restored her hope, or will she heed the call to return to the Plain Life—and perhaps to her first love?

This intriguing final novel in the Sisters of the Quilt series is richly textured with authentic details drawn from the author’s real-life connections with Amish Mennonite and Old Order Amish families.

Cindy Woodsmall is a best-selling author, who has garnered strong praise for the first two novels in the Sisters of the Quilt series. When the Heart Cries was a finalist for the ECPA Novel of the Year in 2007 and received the Reviewer’s Choice Award from the Road to Romance website. When the Morning Comes was named among the Best Books of 2007 for Crossings Book Club. Cindy lives in Georgia with her husband of thirty years.

Why is that again?

Explain to me why, on the few nights a year I make a commitment that I simply can not get out of, my children get sick.

Christmas?

Puking.

Dinner banquet where all available babysitters are working the banquet?

Pinkeye.

They have radar, I tell ya.

Radar.

Neither Urban Nor Rural

My church is so white....and decidedly not Mennonite.

I couldn't help but crack up tonight when, after a dinner banquet and during our entertainment portion of the night, our grouping had no idea what to do.

Let me set the stage.

A decidedly un-white group of young adults came in to sing for us slash lead us in worship. First we all sit and watch, then the leader type guy says "sing with me" and we all stand (because that's what we do when we sing) and then he goes on to another song that no one knows and no one knows if they can sit or stand. And a couple songs later I sit, together with a few other people.

This is when I admit to my MIL that cantatas can't be all bad. At least the program and leader tells you when to sit and stand and when to sing along and when to just listen.

I'm good with "worship" and I'm good with "performance." When I can't figure out what I'm supposed to do? Not so much. I'm so busy trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do with my feet, mouth, and hands that the holy portion of the evening is lost on me.

Tell me I'm not the only one.

But let me say that there was some harmony on Breathe that set my spine a-tingling. Like eight part harmony. Don't hear that often.

Not even in the Mennonite church.

Because Sometimes You Have to be THAT Guy

Today I came home from SHOPPING to find Hubs CLEANING the refrigerator.

No, really, pulling out the food and the shelves and scrubbing the shelves down.

I couldn't decide whether to be hurt and offended or just thankful. I chose thankful and guilt ridden. With the "Gee, hon, I know it is bad. I'm sorry."

I just keep putting crap like that off. Particularly when I am busy scraping the yogurt off the table with a putty knife and pulling Charming off six foot ladders and pianos. And cooking for Eldest who has a hollow leg. And promising Princess that we will, indeed, do a craft together, SOON. And peeling apples for Frodo. And the dishes and the laundry and even sneaking a shower in every three or four days, selfish woman that I am.

I know fridges need to be cleaned. As do showers, which I noticed last evening while actually participating in the cleansing activity that takes place for others there, but rarely me unless it is my arm washing some child's hair.

I always feel guilty when it comes to Saturday and Hubs discovers that homes that are clean (read: picked up, not scrubbed) when he walks in the door on Friday night are COMPLETELY TRASHED by Saturday at 8:30 AM. AND he has to STAY HOME in it instead of heading off to work while the house miraculously cleans itself.

Me, I've gotten rather used to living in squalor. I enjoy it.

Oh, right. This isn't the parallel universe.

So, on Saturdays by noon, he's usually using phrases like "I can't live like this" "we have to get rid of stuff" and "I can't take this mess!" And instead of picking up the crap all over the floor he grabs a rag and starts deep cleaning.

And the guilt monster eats me alive.

See, I don't deep clean unless things are picked up.

And things are never picked up. Not completely. Well, not when I don't have a meal to prepare or clean up after.

He skips the pick up (smart guy) and CLEANS. And as I know that is my job, I get guilty. And say so.

So what he told me today when I referenced the guilt?

"I was thinking about those Helzberg Diamonds commercials and how I'm not THAT GUY. But since I can't afford to go to Helzberg's I should try to be THAT GUY instead." (He stayed home from a KU basketball game to go to the Christmas thing with me and the kids and cleaned my fridge.)

Come on, say it with me....

Awwwwwww............

A very wise woman told me today (after I told this story) that a very wise woman once told her: don't be offended when he does something around the house. Just be thankful he did it and try to let the why rest.

(That's for those of us who assume he only cleans something because he doesn't think you do a good enough job yourself and not just because he loves you and it trying to help. That isn't for those of you who keep an immaculate house. You can just skip this paragraph and go re-read my failures in the first few paragraphs and feel better about yourself.)

Incidentally, it isn't that he can't afford ANYTHING at Helzberg's, it's that what he can't afford is what he wants to buy. Which is currently working for me. Don't pop my bubble.

Princess and Santa

We took the kids to a Christmas open house at a local historic site today. They were able to emboss leather, make paper chains, string popcorn and cranberries, drink hot chocolate from a wood stove and take pictures with Santa (whose beard, incidentally, was quite real).

My kids don't do Santa. Though Frodo did ask if he got to sit "on Fake Santa's lap."

So there the kids were, probably wondering what is wrong with their mother that she wants to take their pictures sitting on Fake Santa's lap, trying to tell if Fake Santa knew there wasn't really a Santa Claus still living (they know all about St. Nicholas), and trying to come up with something they wanted for Christmas.

Santa finally told Frodo that there would be legos under the tree with Santa's name on it.

Hmmmm.

Thoughtful of him.

Frodo, thinks he's getting legos now. From Fake Santa. Whom he presumes knows where we live. Kinda like that cashier last year that asked if he could come to Frodo's birthday party (he was joking around) and Frodo really thought he'd be there and that I needed to buy pistachio ice cream for the guy who specifically asked for it.

Maybe I should have named this post "Frodo and Santa."

Anyway, all the kids talked to Santa, because they wanted the candy sticks he was handing out, ending with Princess. When he asked what she wanted, she answered, "I don't know." He guessed for a while and she solemnly shook her head no each time. Santa's helper got into the game. She volunteered "Barbie." Princess shook her head. "Do you like Hannah Montanna?" Violent head shake. The helper looked at me quizically.

What can I say? We aren't the norm at our house.

Makes it kinda hard to shop considering everything for girls (toothbrushes and panties and such) have either Dora, Disney Princesses, and Hanna Montanna on them. Or Bratz. Which she calls, "those foolish girls." Growing too old for Dora. Tolerates the princesses though the toothbrushes look posessed. Would wonder WHAT on EARTH I was thinking if I bought her the others.

I think I finally just bought her the green crayola toothbrush for her stocking.

She's a hard nut to crack, that one. She doesn't like what other little girls like. She likes "olden days" and reading books about other cultures. I like that about her, but it makes giving difficult.

Especially for Santa.

giggle.

Miss Fortune by Sara Mills

It's New Book Tuesday again and I have another great one for you! And just in time for Christmas shopping.

They call her the P.I. Princess.

It's 1947 and Allie Fortune is the only female (and perhaps the best) private investigator in New York City.

But she's kept awake at night by a mystery of her own--her finace disappeared in the war and Allie is haunted more by the unknown than by finding out the worst.

Her work is a welcome distraction, and she's just been hired by a client who isn't telling the whole truth. Mary Gordon's claims of innocence don't fit with her ransacked apartment, being shot at, and the two Soviet agents hot on her trail.

Meanwhile the FBI is working the case because a legendary and mysterious treasure has gone missing...again. The only catch for Allie is her new "partner" Jack, an attractive, single agent who knows how to make her smile.

As Allie and Jack chase after the gold, they must contend with the Soviets who also want the priceless treasure back--after all they stole it fair and square. (From back cover copy.)

This book was delicious. I stepped out of mysteries for a long time(I don't like to dream suspense), but I'm a returned fan. This book had it all. A past to deal with, bad guys that are really bad, the hint of romance...good stuff. But to tell you much more would be full of spoilers.

I will tell you this: I will never understand women who seem to have no need for personal safety. And Allie is one of those women. But I suppose women who cower at home don't make good P.I. heroines, do they? They make pretty good readers, though.

Write on, Sara. I can't wait for Miss Match.

They Should Call it the Terrible 20 Months

Marker lids prove no match for someone 20 months old.

That is my Lindt Dark Chocolate Toffee Interlude bar he snagged off my kitchen counter.

No comment necessary.

There's Charming standing on the windowsill and yes, that is a plate of muffins he's eaten all the tops off of.



Yes, that's Charming on top of the piano. No, I didn't help him up there.

He was standing on the keys, looking at the fish, next thing I know, he's on top.

He dumped a while bottle of fish food in the bowl, too, if you care. He was considerate enough to screw the lid back on after he emptied the bottle.

Oh, my, how I l-o-o-o-o-o-v-e toddlers.

It's a good thing he's so cute.

Kohl's is really staring to (bleep) me off.

So I get this email today, with this ring on it.

It's my style. Kinda antique-y. More than Hubs and I usually spend, but I gave it a long think. Should I, or shouldn't I, forward the email on to the man of the year?

I decided to go check out this ring for myself. See if you can buy it in my size. See if I like it from another angle.

I link through. It isn't there. I search around for a while. It isn't there. I call Hubs for another reason. Mention it. He looks. It's on the front page of their web site. HE can't find it, cyber genius that he is.

Half an hour later, I find it: no longer available.

I'm sure they had one. Maybe even ten for sale. And I know that all the stores do it. Offer something up that people can't resist in the hopes that they'll stay and find something else once the three they have in stock are gone.

But on top of the phantom red dress?

I'm getting a little peeved.

Frodo Sez

While riding along in the car this evening, the radio yammered on about Christmas and how it's "the most wonderful time of the year."

Frodo pipes up from the back, "Huh uh, no it's not. The most wonderful time of the year is summer!"

Hear, hear, little boy. Hear hear.

A Different Kind of Giving...

Give the gift of life this Christmas

Hands of Hope, a charity of Women Helping Women A World Away, is

announcing that their Holiday Gift Cards are available for purchase. These cards provide food,

income and water for impoverished women and children in Zambia, Uganda, and

Southern Sudan. They can be purchased on the Hands of Hope website

www.handsofhopeonline.org for $15.00, $30.00 and $50.00. Purchasing these cards will provide

goats, chickens or wells to help change lives. What could be a more meaningful gift for holiday

giving for family, friends, and customer appreciation?

Hands of Hope helps mobilize communities to respond to the needs of women and children

around the world. With an ever-expanding support base in the Chicago area, Hands of Hope

works to raise community awareness regarding poverty and HIV/AIDS in Africa and its relevance

globally. We are confident in the integrity of the channels we have established so that

contributions provide the highest possible impact for the most critical needs.

A Chicken Card will purchase a gift of twelve chicks and be given to an impoverished family in

Africa. As the flock multiplies, a struggling family will be given the hope to survive. Your gift will

help those in need for generations to come.

A Goat Card represents an actual goat being purchased for a needy family. Beyond providing

much needed milk, a few goats can quickly become a herd, providing sustenance and additional

income that can make the difference between whether a child goes to school or not.

A Well Card will go toward funding a well in the Western Province of Zambia. Statistics show that

nearly half of all people in developing countries suffer from health related problems caused by

unsafe water. In addition, African women and children spend several hours every day collecting water.

Don't Answer That!

When your baby uses the same word for "nurse" as he does for "pop" or, more specifically, "Pepsi," what does that say about the contents of your breast milk?

Incidentally, his word for "cat" and "dog" is also the same: Nonny.

Whatever.

Crap Bathrooms

I have a new thing to be thankful for:

Crap Bathrooms.

Two days ago I was commiserating with a friend on facebook about crap bathrooms. Ugly. Outdated. Embarassing. Gross. These are the words we used. Poor us. We don't have beautiful bathrooms to which we can escape (on, oh, so many levels).

I have a word for her and myself.

Crap bathrooms with crap lighting are the bomb.

You know what you get when you have lovely bathrooms with lovely lighting and big, lovely mirrirs?

Cellulite magnifiers.

A girl can't climb into or out of the shower without determining in her heart to fast the Thanksgiving meal and any meal that should forthwith follow for however long it should take to remove the saggy, baggy elephant that has taken over her stomach or the hail damage that affects her thighs and butt.

My bathroom may have mildew that won't die. It may have cabinetry from the 70s or no cabinetry at all (save the wire over-the-toilet-shelve), but the mirrors are all either too little, too high, or simply absent.

Father God in Heaven, my psyche thanks you for choosing for me a home that keeps it in the dark about what is really going on south of the noggin.

Wal-Mart re-Visited

So there I was in MacPhearson, Kansas, at Wal-Mart, at 2:45 in the afternoon, on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.

The place was vacant. Like my Wal-Mart at seven AM on a Tuesday in July.

ON THE WEDNESDAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING!

Maybe it isn't Wal-Mart I hate so much as it is the Wal-Mart in my city.

I'm still in awe. The Wednesday before Thanksgiving. The day I avoid all retail at all costs. (Unless, for example, I'm on an emergency Pepsi and Creme Brulee CoffeeMate run. A girl has her caffeinated needs, crowds be-durned.)

A Special Note to Kohl's

Hey! If you are going to advertise a fabulous red dress accompanied by a catchy tune (not Christmas, I noticed), you should, in fact, SELL a fabulous red dress in your store.

Sure, you could be selling the CAR (the other item in that section of the commercial) with CHAPS on the windshield, but I don't really think so. I think you are selling the fabulous red dress.

It takes a LOT for me to give myself permission to buy a fabulous red dress. Especially by CHAPS, seeing as how they aren't known for being economical. So when I give myself permission to buy a fabulous red dress that you supposedly sell, it is highly disconcerting to find that you don't sell it. It isn't in the Chaps section. It isn't in Apt, 9. It isn't Simply Vera Wang (shocker, I know). It isn't Sonoma. It ISN'T in the store. It isn't on the web. It DOES NOT EXIST.

You know where I found that fabulous red dress?

JC Penney.

Guess who's getting my fabulous red dress money this year? (I certainly hope it is still there in my size now that I've said that.)

Come on, Kohl's! I love you, but you gotta carry what you offer or I get disillusioned and spend elsewhere because I have already convinced myself that I MUST HAVE THAT FABULOUS RED DRESS!

You have exactly one day to produce evidence that you carry said dress, or I'm heading to the mall. The other mall.

Sincerely,
Chaos

Edited to add: I am willing to consent that ON THE WEB there is a red dress that could be considered fabulous. However, said dress is cap sleeved. While cap sleeves are lovely in their own right, I live where it is cold at Christmas. The dress on the Ad has at least 3/4 length sleeves. There is also a red dress with longer sleeves, but I don't consider it fabulous on the web. It looks more clingy and not at all flowy like the ad. I will be watching tv tonight and will watch closely. I still think my first reaction is accurate but I MAY be wrong. (They still should carry dresses in the stores!)

How the Apple Falls

Tonight Hubs and I took Princess out for a special evening (read: all about her) while her brothers went for a sleepover (pray for Mr. and Mrs. Nurse Boy).

After dinner at the Rainforest Cafe we trolled the mall for a bit. She wanted to go over to Libby Lu for "wish sprinkles."

Libby Lu is having an "everything must go!" "Blowout sale!" (Apparently they will be closing, though nothing actually said "store closing.")

Princess and I walked around for a bit while the sprinkle lady pierced a baby's ears. We checked prices, looked, checked prices, looked, checked prices when princess finally pipes up and says:

"For a Blowout Sale, they sure do cost a lot."

Dry. Totally dry. Just like her mama. Cracked. Me. Up.

We went over to Disney store.

Then rode the double decker carousel.

Then got a soft pretzel.

Then came home and watched "Cars."

Again.

While she ate two ice cream cones.

She is so much fun when she isn't competing for attention. She ate calamari because her daddy and I wanted to. She ate Brave New World Pizza (it don't taste much like pizza, folks) because her daddy and I wanted to. She was amazed by the gigantic soft pretzel. She's a trier, that one. And she knows a pitiful deal when she sees one.

That apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.

You know it's time to wean the baby when he hikes your shirt up to your neck when you are defenseless to prevent it in the optometrist's office.

I told the assistant that when she told all her friends about me, to please not use my name.

There I am, staring into the machine (which is what made him freak out, I'm sure), waiting for the puff of air to blast me in the eye and he's climbed onto my lap, hiked my sweater to my neck and is yanking at my bra. I finally gave up, yanked the sweater over the top of the whole package and let him nurse away. He clung on like a leech.

It was humiliating.

My problem is that I have no clue how to wean a baby that doesn't want to wean. All my others weaned by their own choosing...well before this. At this age, my ears can't take the protest.

Oh, help.

Here's hoping that Thanksgiving will produce the necessary distraction.

Speed Dating

Yesterday I got paid big moolah for speed dating.

No, not people, products. I had five minutes to decide whether or not I liked a product and why.

What keeps coming to mind is the term "fair" in regard to price. I'm sure the price is fair. But whether or not I'd buy it when the price is fair is disconcerting for me. It is a cool product? Yes. Would the kids love the product? Yes. Would I lay money down for it? Yes. Would I lay down as much money for it as you would consider fair? Ah, there's the rub.

The truth is, I'm a cheapskate. What I consider a fair price is a durn lot lower than the average Joe. Think garage sale. And even then sometimes I think people are a little insane. "But it's cashmere" isn't an excuse. Do you want it, or don't you? This is a garage sale. That is a used sweater. If you want $100 take it to a consignment store. Garage salers, though we sometimes carry that kind of cash, usually intend to spend their $100 on more than one item. Unless we are looking for a sofa. And sometimes even then.

I buy my clothes off the 75% off rack. The last party supplies I bought were from a garage sale for a quarter a theme. The last washable markers I bought were a quarter a pack in the after school started clearance section. (I bought five dollars worth.) That's what I consider a fair price. Actually, I suppose that's what I consider an exceptional price. But I don't often buy at a fair price.

Anything.

Hmmmm.

So, in hindsight, I'm thinking I might have answered some questions dishonestly.

Regretting that a little.

You Say Potato, I Say Po-ta-toe

Back in the day, approximately (exactly, to be exact) nine years ago, those of us in the biz sold brown diamonds to those people too cheap to buy the white ones.

Women came in the day after Christmas to exchange the diamond earrings that their boyfriend bought for some without "all those spots." (yeah.......um, that will take a few more hundreds.....)

Couples came in, took one look at a yellow diamond, and declared it unworthy.

Fast forward. 2004. People are paying more for yellow diamonds. The celebs are buying them for great amounts of money.

Fast forward again. 2008. They are selling brown diamonds. Marketing them. I'd like to have sat in that board room:

How do we get rid of these brown diamonds? Hey, I know! Call it chocolate! No woman can refuse chocolate! And we can charge MORE! Or how about champagne! Chocolate and Champagne! Genius!

Are we living in the twilight zone, or what?

Is it just me?

Rhapsody in Red by Donn Taylor

"That Wednesday, two weeks before Thanksgiving, was a bad day to find a corpse on campus."

Preston Barclay is a self-made recluse (and he likes it that way). Teaching college history allows him time to grieve the loss of his pianist wife and find relief from the musical hallucinations that have been playing in his head since her death. But when he and a headstrong colleague, Mara Thorn, discover the body of another instructor on campus, Press's monotonous solitude is destroyed.

When the preliminary evidence singles out Press and Mara, they must take some chances (including trusting each other) to build their own defense--by bending the rules just a little bit.

They choose to form an unlikely alliance to stay ahead of the police, the college's wary and incompetent administration, and whoever is trying to get away with murder. Otherwise, they both might end up unemployed, behind bars, or worse... (from back cover copy)

OK, HILARIOUS book. It shouldn't be. It is a murder mystery/suspense/boogyman-around-every-corner-can't-figure-out-who-dunnit...but this book cracked me up. Press has a sense of humor like you wouldn't believe.

I love that he constantly has an ongoing musical score that clashes with his mood. (Except for the bassoon, snort.) Maybe it is because I often seem to have the same problem.

I'm not so much into reading people breaking the law to save the law because I just KNOW that they will get caught and pay even if it is fiction and they won't because the book is about them and you just don't end books where the end stinks because the wrong guy got it and publish two. Not in the real world (unless you are named Piccout and have an uncanny ability to make the unhappy ending work).

Any-hoo, if you like the cozy mystery/light suspense type books, and like to laugh to boot, I suggest you grab this one up. Maybe a little Christmas shopping for yourself?

And, hey, if you are in to this type of thing, you can read an interview of Donn Taylor here. They do regular reviews of Christian Suspense and often give away books so you might even want to sign up for their newsletter.

Lookin' Back Texas by Leanna Ellis

When Suzanne Mullins gets a frantic call to come back home to Texas because her mother has gone off the deep end, she knows it will mean more than having to confront the crumbling foundations of her parents' marriage. Life with her husband and son is also cracking under the strain of its own unspoken history, and the past is waiting for them in Luckenbach. Will Suzanne go along with her mother's outrageous scheme in order to keep her family in one piece--even if it does mean watching her father give the eulogy at his own funeral? (from back cover copy)

This was one of those books that makes you wonder how the hey they will pull THIS one out. I was not, however, cringing the whole time wondering why they don't just TALK instead of digging these huge holes, which is a very good thing. All in all I think it was a very well rounded plot line with far more involved than just a whacko mom. I really enjoyed the many layers of this book and the absolute necessity of Suzanne's trip "home."

But can I tell you what I liked most about this book? It felt like going home for me. A little mini-vacation without spending money on gas. I knew those crazy people. I've lived the small town, everyone's up in your business, someone is always a witness, life. (Sometimes I still long for it.) I think Leanna Ellis wrote small town true to life--at least the small town that I know and love.

Methinks I shall check out more of her titles. I'm thinking Elvis Takes a Back Seat.

What I Really Want to Do

Is take a long hot bath in a jacuzzi tub.

What I'm gonna do is take a long hot shower in a moldy shower stall.

You can't have everything.

But I'm going to attempt to be grateful for what I've got.

My legs ache like a 33 year old mother that spent the afternoon playing powder puff football on AstroTurf against girls half her age.

Here's hoping I can walk tomorrow.

Hormones?

How can I go from positively bubbling over with optimism one day to completely wasted in despondency the next?

I honestly don't know. The calendar doesn't suggest any imminent excuse. But I woke Wednesday morning in a state of panic and haven't quite been able to rid myself of it since. Hubs asks why and I can't come up with anything.

Check that. I can come up with any number of things that in and of themselves I can point to and say, "yeah, that's it." Except those 17 issues were there Tuesday also and not causing me to kick my legs in frustration (I've noticed that I have symptoms of restless leg syndrome....but only when I'm totally freaking out about something).

Mercy, mercy, mercy.

Sometimes I just want to pack my bags and start all over. Not from my immediate family, I'd take them with me, but from this life that I've made for myself. I confessed as much to Hubs who agreed with me. He's going through something similar.

Life is hard. And instead of muscling through it, I seem to prefer to whine. On top of that, I know that I should be grateful, but all I can see are the issues. And I should be loving, but I'd rather lick my own wounds than tend to some one else's.

To quote, I think, Rex: Great, now I have guilt.

Sometimes I wonder why I've been hardwired this way and whether I can overcome it. Surely, SURELY, the world isn't conspiring to make me miserable, lonely, guilty, and a crappy housekeeper and mom.

I'm just so overwhelmed with it all, ya know? And instead of staying thoughtful and organized I'm half a step ahead, if that, and more often than not, late and behind.

O, Happy Day.

So, now I'm going to go try to do something in this rare moment of peace. Peace as in quiet. Not peace as in peaceful inner life. But who knows? Charming has radar for "mom accomplishing something."

Let's see....spiritual application...

Meaningless, meaningless. Everything is meaningless. (Ecclesiastes)

That was full of hope, not?

What to do When Your Wireless Goes Kaput and Your Computer Isn't Plug-In Capable...

Um, yeah.

One might not quite realize how addicted one is to one's internet unless this tragedy befall them.

Hopefully I will be up and running again soon.

Found

I was driving home tonight after a decompression time with a couple friends going through a similar trial and I was thinking about blogging topics and all I could think to say is this:

I feel found.

I'm found.

I don't know how to describe it. And even typing it makes me rethink it. It doesn't make sense. Not exactly.

Maybe I'm coming into myself. Or I know that even though I get disgusted with my self, I am comfortable with myself. Which is a joke because I'm so not. And I'm still a bit discouraged and I have bad days. Today being one of them. But I can't help but feel as if I'm struggling FOR something.

I'm found.

I was so lukewarm for so long that I forgot what hot felt like. There were times when I prayed to just be cold so as to feel SOMETHING. And it was a long, dark time.

And now I feel found.

Tomorrow I may be lukewarm and lost again, but tonight I'm going to consider myself that one sheep out of a hundred.

Found.

Those Little Shiny Sunrays

Over the course of one extraordinarily sucky month half of my home group that almost never really was left the church.

A girl could start to take something like that personally.

I'm not going to go into that tonight. Not so much anyway. But I was in a funk so dang low I'm not sure a cockroach could have scraped me off the floor with chewing gum and one of those pampered chef scrapers.

I just wanted to report that today I walked into church not hoping for much and was just overwhelmed with love for the people around me.

Just diagonal to the right was LT where she always is. Faithful and shining. And in front of her is the couple I almost never talk to and their teenagers and mother. Just like always. To my direct right is the couple with their adult daughters who always have a smile and encouraging word for me. Behind me is the drummer's wife and her son. And behind her is the usher ready to hold the door when I get tired of wrestling Charming through the announcements.

These people are constants. They aren't necessarily those that I've chosen to spend much time with outside the church's walls for one reason or another. I don't really know why. Not in the same life stage probably. But they are always there. In their places. We know when there is someone there that isn't usually. And we know when someone is gone.

I love these people. This is home. THEY are there.

I've been acting as if the whole church emptied when my friends left. A gaping void. A black hole. I wondered who was planning to fall into it next. Would I be the last one standing? If I stepped into the hole myself, would I stop the bleed?

It sucked.

But today I saw a glimmer of hope. And I spent a bit more time greeting those faithful ones that sit around me. These people are my family.

It turns out the pew isn't quite as empty as I imagined it to be.

Me Myself & I AM

Here's a fun book for gifting. It's kinda like a time capsule with a cover. A slice of "me, now" to be read by me, later. I'm having fun with it.

A new experience of God comes one question at a time in this fun and provocative journal. Made up entirely of insightful, profound, and occasionally ridiculous questions, Me, Myself, and I AM invites you to open to any page, open yourself to God, and be the author of your own story.

Questions range from spiritually intriguing—

You overhear God talking about you. What do hear him saying?

to thought-provoking—

You are on a long car trip with a close friend who is not a Christian and the conversation turns to faith. What is your biggest fear about what your friend will ask or say?

to challenging—

Do you believe that all of Jesus’ followers have a responsibility to tell others about him?

to just plain fun—

If your life before you became a Christian were a movie, its title would be:

Animal House

As Good as It Gets

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

It’s a Wonderful Life

Me, Myself, and I AM will entertain, inspire, and get you thinking about your spiritual life from brand new angles. Whether you use Me, Myself, and I AM as a reflective tool, a way to start conversations with friends and family, or as a spiritual time capsule to look back on years later, their own words will create a powerful journey of self-discovery.

Some Thoughts on the Election

My gut reaction is that America deserves everything that's coming to her. My children, however, do not, which makes me sick. On the flip side, maybe I will be pleasantly surprised and the new tax codes, etc. won't impact me.

Maybe I'll find that I like socialism.

I'm not holding out much hope.

Though I consider myself a "have not" as far as the "middle class" goes, I'm not delusional enough to believe that my taxes really won't go up just because I don't make $250K...because HELLO it's gotta come from somewhere and the people that do have the money are smart enough to hide it before January.

Having said that (and that was more than I intended to say--I apologize to all three Obama supporters that read this blog for talking politics yet again), I offer you this little ditty:

(bomp, bomp, bomp) God is bigger than the president
He's bigger than Obama and the anchors on TV
Oh, God is bigger than the president
And he's watching out for you and me!

Are you frightened?
No not really
Are you worried?
no, not a bit
I know what ever's gonna happen
that God can handle it
(I'm sorry that I scared you when you saw me on TV)
Oh, that's ok, cause now I know, that God is takin; care of meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

(bomp, bomp, bomp) God is bigger than the president
He's bigger than Obama and the anchors on TV
Oh, God is bigger than the president
And he's watching out for you and me!

He's watchin, watchin, watchiiiiiinnnnnnnnn
out for you and meeeeeeeeeee
Yeah.

(Complements Junior, additions mine.)

Ruby Slippers

So.....I awoke yesterday morn and told my dear Hubs that what I really needed was a great pair of red shoes.

So buy some, he said.

Problem there dear is that you can't get a great pair of red shoes. Not like I want. And not for less than $50. (Yeah, I know, some of you out there wouldn't consider a pair of shoes under $100, but I'm a cheapo, clearance rack shopping lover of shoes and I don't often pay for them what you are "supposed" to pay for great shoes. More than $10 and they better be darned fantastic AND have a name on there that you would read about in a Kristin Billerbeck novel.) I suppose I'll just have to wear the other dress to church instead. (Poor me. And I got loads of complements on it, too.)

Ah, but while coat shopping for Princess, we detoured to the shoes. And there they were. My ruby slippers. Hummina-hummina. Come to mama, baby girls.

And I'd show you a picture, except I'm too darned lazy to first find the camera, then take the picture, then upload the picture. So you'll have to take my word for it.

Entre New Book Tuesday: Ruby Slippers: How the Soul of a Woman Brings Her Home by Jonalyn Grace Fincher. (Nice segue, eh? And yet TOTALLY and ABSOLUTELY TRUE!)

Oh, man. I started this book and thought, "My, my it's my long lost twin. Her heart is (or was) just as dark as mine is!" (She uses the word "eyes" but I think we mean the same thing.) The whole judgy woman admitting that we are always comparing ourselves to every other woman in the room. (Did I just type that?) Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. And after we've sized the other woman up, turn the criticism upon ourselves.

This is why I hate to pool. If I'm not envying someone else's abs, I'm envying their parenting skills.

ANY-way I found myself thinking I needed to buy this book for every woman I know. If there are two of us willing to admit to these problems and a publisher willing to print the problems right out there in black and white, it can't just be ME.

As an aside: There were a couple sections in the middle where she almost lost me with the gender equality stuff, but by the end I could see where she was going. Should you pick up the book, hear her out. You might not agree with every word, but the premise is sound. I'm not even sure I don't agree with her, but I've been shoving my self and my thoughts into a certain box (or corset) for so long it might take a while for my thoughts to settle enough to say whether I am fully in her boat.

HOWEVER, there are also gorgeous chapters about finding and feeding our feminine soul, whether or not that soul is quiet and gentle--(once you get past the psycho-babble of why our feminine soul needs finding and feeding...and I use the term psycho-babble in its most loving sense. It's like Bringing Up Boys. I know I need to let my boys be boys...quit telling me why and tell me how! Many, many people need to know why before they can understand how. I know I have a problem. FIX ME!)--and as most of you know, quiet and gentle are words that decidedly do NOT fit me.

And oh, does she end it well.

So I'm back to believing that I need to give a copy to every woman I know. Maybe you don't have dark eyes. And maybe you do. Maybe you love soft dresses and high heels and maybe you are more comfortable on the sofa in sweats watching football. And maybe you like to do both. And maybe you are a powerful working woman and maybe you are a wimpy mom that can't stand up to her raving 20 month old when he decides he NEEDS YOUR SHIRT ALL THE WAY OFF SO THAT HE CAN STAND AND WATCH TV WHILE NURSING (not that I know anyone with that particular problem). But I'll muster a guess that something in this book will call out to you and cause you to crave redeemed femininity like you've never understood it before.

By the way, Jonalyn, I so love and envy your hair as only a chick with fine, limp, do-nothing hair can. I'm so sure you wanted to hear that.

Seriously, go check out her blog and hair. She hated it growing up. It plays a big role in her book. And the very first thing I thought when I saw her photo was, "wow, that is some great hair" long before I read the book. And now I feel petty mentioning it. But, darn it, it is fabulous and someone needs to say it.

November is National Adoption Month

I am unfamiliar with this group, but their message is moving.

UN-be-LIEV-able

I went over to an advance voting station and voted yesterday.

I've been thwarted by the lines for a week now. I thought, sure, there are lines today, it's the first (second, Friday, getting close to the election) day of voting. I've run out of excuses. People are just ready and willing to vote. And willing to stand in lines that stretch down the block to do it.

I was floored.

Seriously. Election day isn't until next Tuesday and people are standing in two hour lines to vote TODAY.

I can't even imagine what the lines will be like Tuesday.

I do have to admit that at the station at which I voted, the lines moved swiftly. (I didn't mistype. Lines.) There was a line to fill out the advance voting form. There was a line to check in to the computer system. There was a line to get the card for the machine. A line for the machine. A line to get the sticker (and turn in the card) after you vote. But There were something like 30 machines. As opposed to the 8 machines they will have at each station next week.

The lines flat moved. I was in out and on my way in 15-20 minutes. They were very efficient.

I know there are people that don't approve of advance voting because something could happen that would change the vote in these last days. I've thought about that. But since I have not been on the fence about ONE SINGLE PERSON since the beginning of this election season (and have only sort of been on the fence about various taxes/electing judges) I can't imagine that anything anyone says will change my vote.

Well, I suppose of someone came out and said they plan to sacrifice a child this Halloween, I would regret that vote, but who wants to commit that kind of election suicide? (I can think of a few yahoos that might be that stupid, but I didn't vote for them anyway.)

Surely I Have Something to Say

Gut instincts are interesting things.

This morning Charming woke "warm." I was sure he was "warm."

Wednesday isn't a good day for him to be "warm."

He popped out of bed and started to play. I assumed him well because of this, but grabbed a thermometer anyway.

98.3

Readied children and self for school. Dropped kids at school, dropped Charming in the nursery, dropped self at CBS.

Fast forward two hours. Pick hysterical Charming up from nursery. Charming is "warm." As Charming is having fit, wonder if heat is fit related. Charming falls asleep instantly in van. Arrive home. Deep sleeping Charming is awake. And 100.3 degrees.

Yes, after he shared a nursery with 15 kids.

I KNEW he was "warm." Even though the thermometer didn't agree.

That's what we call "mother's intuition."

Would the Commercials Stop Already!?

I'm planning to go in early to vote. There's a site only a few blocks away. And the closer we get to elections the more irritated I've been getting at both sides. I figure I better vote before I decide I don't want to elect anyone. But this is as good a time as any to remind people to vote your conscience. Not just your party line. Not just because you heard a TV ad that made the other guy look like an idiot, but because you know where they stand and that they represent your ideals, whatever they are.

Mine begin and end with Jesus. And the dudes that get the closest to what the Bible says He said. Though some days I wonder about them all. How Would Jesus Vote?

The 2008 election is shaping up to be one of the most important political contests in American history. In fact, Dr. D. James Kennedy believes it will be a watershed moment that could impact our very survival as a nation under God.

Values voters—people whose political views and votes are based on their faith in God—are being targeted as never before. As the campaign season moves forward, the significant players will debate terrorism, radical Islam, nuclear threats, global warming, social issues, gay marriage, immigration, education, health care, and many other essential issues that can create sharp ideological divisions.

Into this overwhelmingly complex political situation, Dr. Kennedy and Jerry Newcombe bring a clear, compelling, and nonpartisan exploration of what God’s Word has to say on these critical matters. How Would Jesus Vote? isn’t intended to tell readers which candidates to support; rather it offers a Christ-centered understanding of the world to help readers draw their own political conclusions.

Jerry Newcombe is senior producer for Coral Ridge Ministries television and has produced or coproduced more than fifty documentaries. The host of two weekly radio shows, he has also been a guest on numerous television and radio talk shows. He is the author or coauthor of more than fifteen books.

Dr. D. James Kennedy is one of the most trusted and recognized Christian leaders of our time. The senior minister of Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, he is the featured preacher on television’s “The Coral Ridge Hour” and radio’s “Truths That Transform”, syndicated on over one thousand stations throughout the U.S. The founder and president of Evangelism Explosion International and chancellor of Knox Theological Seminary, he is the author of more than sixty books, including the bestselling What If Jesus Had Never Been Born?