...I wonder about building codes.

After several days inside with five kids and the whole city shut down, unnecessarily mind you, for the hurricane that didn't happen, we are wondering if we can put in a sports arena in the back yard. I'm thinking it would be a great idea. We have not one, not two, but three play rooms. We cannot, however, get all of our sillies out inside the house.

We had friends down the road from where we used to live that had a full unfinished basement. The kids could go down there, throw balls, ride bikes, whatever. Basements are out here in our little coastal community. I think that a big sports barn would be a great solution. I also had a friend growing up that had dug out a hole in the back yard to put their trampoline in so that it was ground level. It was lots of fun, and no one ever fell off. So, my barn will have one of those, shh don't tell the state. My kids are forbidden from ever being on a trampoline. They care so much for these foster children.

Yes, I know the perfect solution would have been the indoor playground I wanted to put in the abandoned grocery store down the street. They still claim that it is under contract, although the sign is still up and there has been no work done in 6 months. So apparently it is not to be at this time. Someday.

So, until the rain stops, the mud dries up, the mosquitoes die and I get the sports arena built in the back yard, we will have to live with the screaming.

...we were spared

But our friends to the north and east were not. There are millions of people in and around Houston who have no power today. Are going to be without for days or weeks. Hurricane Ike came ashore as a high Cat 2 storm, they had been forecasting a Cat 4. Thank God for the diminished strength.

It is barely day break there, but as the world awakens we will begin to discover the stories that will shape this storm. There will be countless people who have lost their homes, their loved ones, and some will have probably lost their lives. There will be a great opportunity for the people of God to show His love to those who are hurting.

Also keep in mind that Ike is now inland, but is still a major threat. The people to the north and east will be affected by the remnants for days. So those of us who are unable to go and physically provide support can continue to pray for those affected.

...I'm Glad I'm Not God

I'm glued to the tv coverage of Hurricane Ike. My brother is a weather junkie, I guess along with the proximity to my own home, some of his nerdiness carried on down the line.

People living on the barrier islands directly in the path of a major hurricane are not leaving. Hello people. 911 won't help you. Don't cry on CNN tomorrow that you almost died. You had every chance to leave.

This is why I would make a horrible god. I would strike them all down immediately for being stupid. But I'm just plain tired of all the crap this world has to offer.

Our church offers a test on different gifts and talents one might be inclined towards. I failed the grace test. Badly. I know it's a lesson that I will have to learn, but I am not inclined towards it. I have learned the hard way to have grace for pregnant teens and horrible parents. I hope that I learned the easy way to evacuate in a hurricane.

I guess the nice thing about knowing that I'm not inclined towards grace is that I am aware of it. I can recognize it and correct it. Kind of like knowing that I like men, and avoiding the ones I don't want to sleep with. That would be all of them, except of course my own man.

So, anyway, I'm glad God has it covered. I haven't quite gotten there.

...we pray for a hurricane.

It's a wonder that more people don't hate us. By us I mean Americans and more specifically Christians. There isn't a hurricane go by that the news doesn't have some loon who was "spared" saying that they just "prayed to God" that it would miss them. "Dear God, please spare us, but protect the Mexicans." Last I checked the rain falls on the just and the unjust.

No, I do not want to be hit by a hurricane. I do not want the hassle, the expense or anything else that would come with it. But last I checked no one was making me live near the beach on the Gulf of Mexico, where, rumor has it, hurricanes happen. But how can I ask that God bless me and curse another.

Maybe we should look at it from a different perspective. The United States is much more capable than Mexico of handling a hurricane and its aftermath. Maybe we should thank God for our own blessings. Thank God that we now know they are coming for up to a week in advance. Maybe we should pray that we have elected the right leaders in our cities and state that our city is prepared in the event that one does hit us. Maybe we should pray that the impact of the storm is limited. Maybe, just maybe we pray that "thy will be done."

Like I said, I don't relish the thought of a hurricane, any more than I would relish the thought of cancer or miscarriage or the myriad problems that can happen to a person here on this earth. But what I can do is prepare for what storms may come. I can offer a hand to those who can't. I can leave until the worst of it is over, and when I return I can show a little love to a neighbor who just may need it.

So, God. Ike is in your hands. Send him where you may. May it all be to Your Glory. Amen.

...screw the polar bears save the babies.

There are currently about 48 million political tshirts out there today, each giving its snarky poignant opinion as to who 'rocks' and who wears lipstick. My least favorite being 'Save the Polar Bears vote Obama'

Didn't we learn anything regarding evolution? Why can't the polar bears grow some opposable thumbs and get a job? Move to the suburbs or just learn to live with it? Then I remember who the polar bears want us to vote for. The left

The polar bears have no interest in bettering their lives. They seem to be content to sleep all winter long. 'Hey, maybe you should use that time to move south and acclimate yourself to warmer weather' but no. They too expect the government to save them from their own evolutionary lack. (They can live in the south, how do I know? I went to the ZOO.) And as per usual, the government expects we the people to pay for it all. Pretty soon they'll start regulating ice and Zamboni drivers will have to take an EPA class on ice sensitivity.

So, I propose we start a vast right wing conspiracy and say 'screw the bears - save a baby' and if you are worried about bringing an unwanted child into the world, I will personally buy you a stick. You can then take that stick and, calm down people, I wouldn't say that, but you can take that stick and throw it in any direction and hit so -very -many wonderful people who are anxiously awaiting a baby to call their own.

...I had fun with a telemarketer.

As we all know, when the home phone rings here it's a telemarketer. So, it rang I answered. "Why yes I do make all non consumption decisions regarding energy in my house."

Who delivers electricity to your home?

"No one delivers electricity to our home. It's built in."

No, I don't think you understand the question, says the telemarketing lady.

"No, I do. It's in the wires."

But who provides the service.

"I don't know, the wires were here when we bought the house."

Is your husband at home?

"I don't know, you'd have to call and ask him."

Thank you very much for your time.

"You're welcome, call anytime."

...yet another update.

Husband was back at the doctor today, got another shot for the itching. Tests won't come back til later this week. But he is feeling much better, thank you all for your prayers.

Big Girl has applied for a job that is not in the food service industry. Wahoo. She 'really wants it bad' and wanted me to pray for her. This is great news all around, so something more for all of you with no problems of your own, or anyone really close to you to pray about for us.

Ike is apparently coming to visit. We need a snappy showtune like we had for Dolly. Makes hurricanes a little easier to deal with if you can sing a snappy tune whilst you are boarding up, and trying to remember everything you're supposed to remember.

We had originally planned to go meet the future SIL this weekend. Changed our plans due to the whole suing the state for custody of our foster children thing. Guess we should have stuck with plan A. Sorry the entire Gulf Coast region.

Speaking of our lawsuit. Waiting or a call from the attorney, who apparently spoke to the state attorney dealing with the case. I wonder if we can bill them for every hour we have to wait? Probably not, they'd lose all their money.

Even with the last two paragraphs happening guess who called today? That would be CPS setting up a visit for Saturday here. Apparently they are unaware that there is a hurricane coming. I think they were upset that I told them we were evacuating. Now they have to fill out that paperwork too.

BTW whoever booked every hotel room in Texas, thanks. It makes this process so much easier. Of course weighing our options of hotel room think Vegas with three preschoolers and mother nature?????? I'll get back to you.

...we take a government class.

This made me laugh. Apparently I work for a Beaurocracy.

....in case you were wondering.

So, it's a well known fact to my husband everyone how wonderfully magnificent I am. Some of my brain works very well, last time I took an internet IQ test, I had an IQ of 143. So, what does one do with all that brain power?

Well, today I was changing the tablecloth, I got the old one off, got part way through putting the new one on. Then forgot about it for hours. Yes, that's right, I am such a scatter brain so brilliant that I cannot accomplish the task of changing a table cloth in one setting.

Well, back to saving the world.

...I learned this, finally.

I know I'm about six months behind but Cool Huh?

I think this will be so annoying fun.

I'm a total blognoramous. So much so, that the first time I published this it completely crossed off my entire blog. Hilarious aren't I?

What happened on...: I'm Baaack and So is New TV

And I need your help. Come over and check out my dormant blog. I'm really excited about the new tv season.

...of an update.

Well, hubby's leg is still attached to his body. Yeah! He's going to come out of it with some very manly scars. Three Urgent Care Visits, three rounds of meds, three intramuscular shots, still don't know for sure what it is. The third time around they actually did tests, wahoo. We'll know more (or not) next week.

It's now just red, not purple and green. It isn't spreading anymore. It's my understanding that we are treating for Staph, Lyme Disease, Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, and probably a few other things.

We really appreciated your prayers this week. And all the time for that matter.

....I changed my header

I absolutely love this new picture, however I apologize for its size, I'll probably regret it badly the next time I need to check my blog from my phone. Anyway, the picture is of a storm produced by a volcanic eruption. It seems appropriate these days. And it's perty.

...of stupid people

I ordered contacts nearly six weeks ago, mistake #1. Paid for them in full was #2. Today I called to find out where they were. As you'll recall, I'm blind so each lens needs to be specially made by elves. Thus the six weeks.

The nice lady on the other end asked my dob.

8-31-blady blah

"No, I don't see you in the system."

"Really, because I've been going there for four years?"

"No, you aren't in the system, that's wierd, we have no patients with a dob of 8-41."

Hmmmmm? That is wierd.

...I read this

Yowza

This is some of what she said....

"Sarah Palin’s nomination has ignited a flame that we haven’t seen before in this country…a clear division between women who believe they can do it all and believe in individual liberties, democracy and freedom, and women who believe they can do it all and believe in the Patriarchal Big Daddy Government. Its going to be a fight of a lifetime, no doubt. But make no mistake, we’re ready.

And pretty soon, we’ll have the second most powerful office in America."

...I never thought I'd get HERE.

So, I'm watching conventions and looking forward to the VICE PRESIDENTIAL debate. Seriously something is wrong with me.

I'd like to be a "Hands Across America" type, where we just all join forces and work towards the common good. However, I find that most of those types just want the hand holding and the community, but not the work.

I love/hate Oprah. There are some things I like about her (nothing political or spiritual, just her Favorite Things and Nate Burkus), but other things perplex me. I DVR her and everything else because I don't have time for the commercials. In the same week of viewing, I don't know when they aired, she was up in arms about the education problems in America. Not only the infrastructures of some schools, but the whole system hadn't changed in decades. Saying is essence that socialized education doesn't work well for most and not at all for others.

Then fast forward Oprah a few days....she has sicko, I mean Michael Moore on promoting his new documentary Sicko, and everyone is sitting around crying about healthcare. We need more health care and the government to help us. We have socialized fire, socialized police, socialized schools, what's wrong with socialized medicine? Well, let's look back a week and think, hmmmmmm? Oh yeah, socialized education isn't working, but we'll do better with health care, we promise.

As for fire and police, I have no experience with the fire department, other than them making sure my fire detectors are in the right place every other year. They never are, even though they are exactly where the fire department told us to put them the last time. And the police? Last year our boys, 8 and 14, were told to walk around the block because they kept fighting and needed to get some energy expended. The 14 year old came back without the 8 year old. We walked around the block, no 8 year old. We walked around the next block, and the next and the next. No 8 year old. We walked to his bus stop, and we searched the neighborhood by car, no 8 year old.

We called 911. I waited, hubby looked. I waited, hubby looked. I waited, hubby talked to every neighbor. No police. In this day and age a missing 8 year old is not a priority. 45 minutes after calling 911 and an eternity after we first noticed him missing, who should show up with our kid? Not the police. A stranger. 8 year old decided to walk to his bus stop and back. Problem was he never walked to the bus stop, only from. He'd gotten disoriented and panicked. He ended up almost two miles from home before a lady working in her yard noticed a panicked 8 year old freaking out.

He didn't remember his phone number, but remembered what street he lived on. She drove him home. Points to boy for not going into her house, lecture later on getting in cars with strangers. He's since been educated, but still no police. We didn't remember to cancel the 911 for another 45 minutes or so, but still no police. I am assuming that the call went out on the radio, luckily there were no pervs in the area listening to police dispatch.

I'll be all in for the government stepping in and helping everyone out, but not until we understand the government. It is a government of the people, by the people and for the people. Looks like if you want the government to help, you'll have to do something, because YOU are the government.

..we throw out the age argument.

Did you all see John McCain's mom at his acceptance speech? 96 and could kick my butt. Well, maybe I could take her, but only because I out weigh her, and I doubt she would be expecting someone sixty years (ok 59) her junior to come and kick her butt, so I'd have the element of surprise. Anyway, I don't think that McCain will die of old age this decade.

....my husband and an update

First of all my husband sent his submission for my 100th post you can read it here at the bottom. or here

I asked him to keep it G, but it's a little more PG-13

In no particular order:


Your smile when you are laughing really hard

That you like really juvenile humor, like a 13 year old boy

That you think about sex more than a 16 year old boy

That when I see pictures of you from every stage of your life before we met and I think "yeah, I'd have been all over that." You would have been the girl I was peeking at in 2nd grade, the girl I wanted to kiss in 6th grade, the first girl I did kiss in 7th grade, the girl I would have thought many inappropriate thoughts about in 8th-12th grade and the girl I experimented with in college. Having said that, I'm glad I got you when I did. It's really clicking now, babe. I'm prouder than Sarah Palin's perma-smile husband.

That time a couple of weeks ago when I was exercising right before going to bed and you woke up laughing your fool head off about your "Vaginal Discharge" blog category. Classic. Or that "parking far away from the store/nice butt" inside joke.

When you get out of the shower naked and no matter what I can't look away. You'd think after nearly 12 years I could, but nope.

You introduced me to God. And I accepted Christ on the morning of your 32nd birthday, laying next to you in bed.

That you have fewer of the typical female hangups than I do. No guilt trips, inspections of my past, no jealousy, no nit-picking. Holy cow I've got it good. Thanks God!

This might not seem like a favorite thing, but I love that it scares me to think that if all goes well, we have 40-50 more years together and that every step of the way I need to make an effort to love you, serve you and be kind to you because there is a long line of guys who surely would do it in my place. I'm scared to lose you and have to remember not to become complacent.

That you are my wife. You married me. You chose to; you are happy with the decision. When we were engaged and had a fight, you wrote me a note I still have somewhere that said "All I want is to be married to you and have a billboard on my left hand that says 'I'm married to Hans!'" That you wanted to be married in a park so we could visit it any time. That you proposed to me. That you had a specific criteria about how you wanted to be married and you stuck with it, saving it for me.

That's ten, and I didn't even get to the parts about being Mom, about Big Girl, Big Boy, Radical, Felpsy, Booger & Princess. Or the part about how you are a genius. Or the lawyer's mind.

Thanks baby. Isn't he sweet? Also, he's got a staph infection and the current antibiotics aren't working. He's at urgent care now, and I haven't heard how it's going. Please pray that they can fix it and fix it soon. I am not the mushy gushy type, but I was really starting to like him after all these years and it would suck around here if he wasn't. ****Update**** He's back, got another shot, will go back on Saturday unless it gets worse. (It gets worse?)

...I heart Huckabee

and Giuliani, and even the devilishly handsome Romney (and his devilishly handsome sons.)

You could not have paid a thousand Hollywood writers to create a more perfect story. I wonder if Hillary is kicking herself for not having a baby this year.

Palin is a storybook story. Son, leaving for Iraq on September 11. Married to every man U.S.A. cutest little girl on the planet, special needs baby. Living in the middle of our greatest energy resource. And she came out and delivered a speech without so much as a stutter. Even Giuliani stumbled over a couple of phrases.

Like I said at the beginning, I REALLY heart Huckabee, and like him was hoping he'd speak tomorrow night. But, political maneuvering or not, McCain made a BRILLIANT choice.

Reagan you can finally rest in peace. We got it from here.

...49 and holding

This year I have had hits from every state, except one. Wyoming. I know, least populated state, yada yada, statistically speaking Wyoming is a hard nut to crack. Why would someone in Wyoming care about the same things I do? As Booger would say when contemplating such a tough question...

"Hmmmm, let me think." accompanied by his hand on his chin, head cocked to the side, eyes looking to the ceiling for the answer.

Maybe because we share DNA. Yes, I'm related to most of the state of Wyoming. Apparently they don't care. Guess, I can speak freely. Nothing like Sitemeter to bring us all closer together.

Just a little rant, love most of the rest of you.

...I unveil my policies

Yesterday I decided to run for queen. I could never be president. Maybe a dictator. Hmmm??? We'll stick with queen. Of course, not that it will matter, I will need some policies to make myself an attractive candidate. I need all the help with attractiveness as I am required by feminist law to wear a pant suit, and well, pantsuits aren't sexy. So without further ado, my policies.


First, domestic policy. Gather up the secret alien technology and teleport the entire populous out of the country. I will sell it as a reality show, so there will be no violation of the Constitution or anything. The reason for tele-de-portation is this. There is a subculture in the country that hates it. I'll be doing them a favor by helping them leave the country they loathe. It will also help the people who love this country and would get back here come Hell or high water. And you might want to cozy up to your gun, you'll be required to defend the Constitution of the United States from enemies foreign and domestic.

Once the people who want to be here get back I will implement my education policy. I believe education is important. My educational program will be to buy every man, woman and child a DVD copy of School House Rock. Once we all know our multiplication tables and the Preamble to the Constitution we'll all know more than most of us learned in school. After that you'll be required to go to Financial Peace University and learn how credit works and how to do a budget.

This brings me to my economic policy. First of all, there will be no more income, property or sales taxes. We'll implement the Fair Tax. You'll have so much money and having attended FPU, you will know what to do with it. You'll give, you'll save and you'll spend it wisely. This will also apply to the big spenders in Washington D.C. - The Fair Tax will bring in enough, don't worry. We'll be able to provide for the common defense. We may not be able to afford the substandard housing we've been keeping the poor in. Or be able to send them to their substandard schools. But because you have more control of your money, and you'll demand that your money is spent wisely. And once the money is in the hands of 'we the people' we'll take care of it.

Let's talk foreign policy. Don't mess with us or our friends, we won't mess with you.

Energy. Let's figure out how to harness the power of the sun, and the wind. Until then, let's use our oil. Or go blow up some desert dictatorship and occupy their sandbox and use that oil. Hello, we're the only SUPERPOWER left. Let's use that to our advantage instead of financing those who would do harm against us.

Welfare. Gone. Immediately. You know why? It's not that I hate the people who need it. I hate the fact that they are given just enough to not make it. If they make one dime more than $X.00 they are cut off. Love is in the giving. If your neighbor needs some help, help them. If they don't have a neighbor, they can go to the church. The church is charged with helping the poor, when we help, we can really help. The poor don't need money as much as they need hope and we should have that in spades.

Health care policy. The government will in no way shape or form be involved. I have been working in the foster care system for too many years. During these years the kids I've cared for have had Medicaid. Just so you know how government healthcare program might work for you. First, our chldren need a psychological evaluation every year. We cannot simply make an appointment and get one. We need to go in and get a pre-evaluation evaluation. This cannot be waived even though whether they need it or not they are getting one. We are not allowed to get an evaluation until we get a letter from Medicaid saying that we need one, even though we know, come September, we're going to need one. We then have 30 days to get a complete evaluation. Of course the pre-evaluation has to be submitted for approval, this approval takes about 6-8 weeks. Putting us behind in our obligations to get care for our children in a timely manner. This then becomes my fault.

If this were the only issue I dealt with annually it may not be much of a concern. This also applies to dental care and regular health care. Just to make it interesting the company that Medicaid outsources their services to changes every year. So, around about April when the annual checkups are due, for things like opthamologists and cardiologists we get a new plan provider. We cannot then simply take a child to the cardiologist who has seen her regularly since she was born, we need to get a referral. We then have to go to our pediatrician, if that pediatrician has decided to jump through all of the hoops again this year, and get a referral to a doctor our children already see. So, for example in my case I take three children to the pediatrician to get referrals to doctors they already see, then I have to take the individual children to their respective doctors. This is especially fun when one is on medication, he needs to see a psychiatrist, but he cannot see a psychiatrist until he's been diagnosed by a psychologist, and he can't see either until he's had a pre-evaluation evaluation that his pediatrician recommends to keep him on the medication he is currently taking. And I have to get in line behind the thousands of other foster parents who are trying to comply in the thirty days we've been given. Do you have a headache yet? You'll need an evaluation.

I will not be here to solve your problems. As you can see, I'm going to have plenty of my own. I will help my friends and my neighbors and if you'll all join me by helping out your friends and neighbors when they need it, then you may not even need me.

This is Annie and I approve this rant. (Unless of course you disagree and then some staff writer put that in and edited my approval on the end, either way I just want everyone to be happy all the time. I am a middle child, maybe I need help, you think?) Whatever I said that you agree with is where we stand on that issue.

...I am a year and two days wiser

My birthday was Sunday, and I'd like to share the wealth of knowledge I've obtained through my many years on this earth.

1. Do not go out to eat on your birthday. If you do, do not go on a double date with the men's ministry leader and his wife. When the waitress inquires as to whether there is a birthday he'll feel compelled to tell the truth. Of all the ministers in the world we found one who keeps commandments. Go figure.

In all seriousness though we had a great time, I got to ride a saddle with no horse (I'm sure hubby would be willing to share the pics) and the food was great. The best part is we were without any of the 11 kids and after years of knowing these people had an actual conversation. I must begin plotting Nene's birthday humiliation, I mean surprise.....

2. I am too old to be paying people to not listen to me. When we hire a sitter they do good for a couple of times, then not so much. I have very few "rules" please follow them. Three and four year olds are old enough to drink their milk at the table, do not put milk in a sippy cup, they tend to disappear and then magically reappear. Seriously, four rules. Feed the kids. Do it at the table. No milk or juice in sippy cups. Put them to bed at X:00. Third time here and she followed exactly zero. Hubby says I should be glad that anyone wants to do it at all, it's a lot of work. I wonder what message it sends that I pay people to not listen to me.

3. Push all children out of the nest at the earliest possible chance. Big girl has been snotty and unloved for the past year. We taught her to fly well, last week we gave her the chance to prove it. She's called and emailed everyday, guess I'm not the most horrible person on the planet.

Those are my words of wisdom for this year, I'm sure there are more, but the memory....

Things I'm working on for next year. How to control every aspect of my children's lives. Keeping all teens from having sex. Explaining to those of you who have never had to deal with Medicaid that the government should not be in charge of anything as important as your health care. The government is there to provide for the common defense. When I become queen the only thing you'll get from me is a copy of School House Rock. Yes, I think it's time for time to go over my policies. Check back.

...I wonder if it's just me

or does Obama-Biden look a lot like Osama Bin Laden?

I discovered this watching the news scroll the other day when I read "Osama Bin Laden in PA" I was like wow - how'd he get in the country? We REALLY need to get better control over our borders.

Turns out, shockingly, that I misread it. It said Obama Biden in PA. Ohhhh, that makes more sense. However, based solely on the name, I'd have picked another running mate. It's like there are certain first names you should not pair with a last name. You all remember them from 7th grade.

Ben Dover
Seymour Butts
yada yada

Like I said, maybe it's just me.

...my 100th post this year

No 100 list - rather a Ten Favorite Ten Lists in no particular order

Ten Favorite Movies
Emporer's New Groove
Princess Bride
Forrest Gump
Meet the Parents
There's Something About Mary
Rainmaker
Talladega Nights. The Story of Ricky Bobby
Ocean's Trilogy



Ten Favorite TV Shows
How I Met Your Mother
The Big Bang Theory
Dharma & Greg
Life
CSI: Crime Scene Investigations
Dexter
The Amazing Race
Gene Simmons Family Jewels
Burn Notice
Rules of Engagement

Ten Favorite Situational Snacks
Popcorn and Dr. Pepper at the movies
Dorito's and Coke for road trips
Olive Garden's Lemon Creme Cake on dessert dates
Marble Slab Strawberry with Strawberries for afternoon sugar bump
M&M's with Mountain Dew anytime, minus the Mountain Dew,
Baskin & Robins Mint Chocolate Chip in a sugar cone another dessert date favorite
Hot Chocolate Chip Cookies after school
Chocolate Chocolate cake about once a month
Angel Food Cake with Strawberries and Whipped Cream great summer dessert
M&M's and Coke - based solely on the amount consumed

Ten Favorite Places
Greenough Park in Missoula, Montana walking along the river and we got married there
Albuquerque, New Mexico - a great energy and beautiful to boot
Painted Desert, Arizona - Gorgeous
Las Vegas, Nevada I love the heat and the energy there, also like that you can drink or smoke where ever you want. I don't drink or smoke, but love that freedom still exists in some places in America.
Huntington Beach, California (the first place I saw the ocean and fell in love with it)
Seaside, Oregon - a beachy little town
The place we snorkeled in Hawaii
The place we windsurfed in Hawaii
Lupo's in Vegas at the Mandalay Bay - I could live there
Any place the Newsboys are playing

Ten Future Favorite Vacation Destinations
San Francisco, California
Aztec Pyramids in Mexico
Italy
Victoria Falls South Africa
Paris
London
Great Wall of China
Alaska during the Northern Lights
Pyramids in Egypt
New York City

Ten Favorite Possibilities for a Last Meal
Cheeseburger, Fries and a thick Chocolate Shake from a 50's type diner
Caldo Xochitl, Spring Salad with Walnut Dressing, and bread from Waterstreet
Petit Kobe steaks with a black truffle reduction from Lupo
The heavenly strawberry dessert from Lupo
Steak and Potatoes from just about any national steak house chain
Steak and Wasabi Potatoes from Chinois with a spring roll appetizer
Any bread product that I make
My stir fry
My mom's rolls and chicken noodles
My grandma's roast

Favorite Compliments Received
You smell like a flower (babies tell me regularly)
It smells like yum in here (Booger when I bake bread)
Thank you for the best meal I EVER (underlined) had (a thank you note from a dinner guest)
Almost anything that comes out of my husbands mouth, although I cannot share most of them.
When my husband tells people I'm his smokin' hot wife.
I love your purse - anytime I carry my black patent Dooney and Bourke
I love your hair - thanks Pat and sorry but I've finally replaced you Michael, if it makes you feel any better it took seven years.
You have beautiful children.
Did you have her when you were 12? (I choose to view this as I don't LOOK old enough to have a kid that old, rather than you were a slutty 12 year old)
I couldn't do what you do.

Favorite Bible Verses
1 Corinthians 15:10
Hebrews 3:13
Philippians 2:2
2 Corinthians 12:15
Ephesians 3:20-21
Psalms 119:105
Romans 8:28
Proverbs 11:22
2 Timothy 3:16-17
John 3:16

Favorite Songs/Artists
David Crowder Band
Third Day
Newsboys
Toby Mac
Counting Crows
Journey in the 80's
I Want to Be Like Jesus - written by Skip Mozisek sung by someone else at Purpose Driven Song Seeker 2004 - (it takes awhile to load)
I secretly like Josh Grobin
Rich Mullins
My husband who plays guitar in the house, it's very comforting

Nice things my husband said about me

I asked him to keep it G, but it's a little more PG-13

In no particular order:


Your smile when you are laughing really hard

That you like really juvenile humor, like a 13 year old boy

That you think about sex more than a 16 year old boy

That when I see pictures of you from every stage of your life before we met and I think "yeah, I'd have been all over that." You would have been the girl I was peeking at in 2nd grade, the girl I wanted to kiss in 6th grade, the first girl I did kiss in 7th grade, the girl I would have thought many inappropriate thoughts about in 8th-12th grade and the girl I experimented with in college. Having said that, I'm glad I got you when I did. It's really clicking now, babe. I'm prouder than Sarah Palin's perma-smile husband.

That time a couple of weeks ago when I was exercising right before going to bed and you woke up laughing your fool head off about your "Vaginal Discharge" blog category. Classic. Or that "parking far away from the store/nice butt" inside joke.

When you get out of the shower naked and no matter what I can't look away. You'd think after nearly 12 years I could, but nope.

You introduced me to God. And I accepted Christ on the morning of your 32nd birthday, laying next to you in bed.

That you have fewer of the typical female hangups than I do. No guilt trips, inspections of my past, no jealousy, no nit-picking. Holy cow I've got it good. Thanks God!

This might not seem like a favorite thing, but I love that it scares me to think that if all goes well, we have 40-50 more years together and that every step of the way I need to make an effort to love you, serve you and be kind to you because there is a long line of guys who surely would do it in my place. I'm scared to lose you and have to remember not to become complacent.

That you are my wife. You married me. You chose to; you are happy with the decision. When we were engaged and had a fight, you wrote me a note I still have somewhere that said "All I want is to be married to you and have a billboard on my left hand that says 'I'm married to Hans!'" That you wanted to be married in a park so we could visit it any time. That you proposed to me. That you had a specific criteria about how you wanted to be married and you stuck with it, saving it for me.

That's ten, and I didn't even get to the parts about being Mom, about Big Girl, Big Boy, Radical, Felpsy, Booger & Princess. Or the part about how you are a genius. Or the lawyer's mind.

"Holy Crap - It's Us"

Just in case you were wondering who was really going to change things around here.

...I begin to look forward to the presidential race

Thank you John McCain for adding even more drama to this years race. For those of you who get your news exclusively from me.....ok never mind. But picking a chick for the VP. Bravo. Regardless of how I feel for McCain personally, I will be voting for him on the off chance that he keels over and thwarts any chance that Hillary would become the first woman president. Sorry Omom.

I know nothing about this woman. It's Sarah Palin. Governor from Alaska. Barely back from maternity leave. If she doesn't distract from the "old white guy" ticket, I don't know who would.

We here (I just realized I cannot abbreviate my blog title), are not political pundits, but I was speculating that maybe Hillary would somehow sabotage the Obama campaign in the hopes that McCain would get elected and she could come back in four years, I think she may be hyperventilating right now. Now she HAS to support Obama, because another woman would then be one fairly old heart beat from the presidency. Either way, this has got to have her fuming. Which makes me happy.

....we learn about communication between men and women

Apparently I communicate better in writing than I do when speaking. I deduced this because my husband has told me that he's learned so much about me since he reads my blog. He often comments to me that he didn't know that about me. Now, I don't intend this to be a husband bashing session, I am blessed to have the best husband in the world. I'd rather this be a lesson on the whole Mars/Venus thing.

First it's been scientifically proven that men can only do one thing at a time. And that they think about boobies about 90 times an hour. So, one can deduce that one cannot think about boobies and listen at the same time. We also know that men tend to think about boobies more when there are some in the room. So it may be unreasonable for us women to think that our men are listening when we are in the room. I do take full responsibility for having my boobies with me at all times. Thank God they are attached, you know the saying about "I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached", that is me. I'm wondering why no one says that about their arms? But can you imagine the dressing nightmare I'd have to face if I had to find all of my appendages and the things that cover them? I shudder.

So, in the future when you are reading my blog and see something random like

Milk,
Eggs,
M&M's,

feel free to ignore it, it will be me communicating with my better half.

...we thank God for Al Gore

Did I just say that? Yes, he of course invented the internet and without the internet I would not know these people. Or this person. I will save a lot of money on therapy.

Also on the web this week I met a girl who was kicked out of the same Bible college as me. We are currently coming up with a t-shirt design for our club. Of course my sins weren't as bad as her sins, but I'll still allow her to be in the club. Yes, that is a log in my eye. are you judging me? You can't be in the club.

One of my favorites, which will remain anonymous because he has enough people criticizing him for no reason, is the blogger who doesn't really get blogging, writing on his blog that blogging is a waste of time for most people. Well, damnit my kids are cute and you should know, (it's on an invite only blog), don't ask for an invite if you can't handle the possible rejection. Also, I feel that you should know that I like M&M's and Coca-Cola, in case you want to send me something for my birthday on Sunday cuz I've been too busy to plan my own party. Shanda???? You don't read my blog do you?



Her cakes rock.

If anyone wants to come to my birthday party let me know so I can make enough bread. And this is why I blog.

of irony, or maybe not.

First, thank you almight USPS for finally coming out with Forever stamps. These are a wonderful thing for people who never mail anything. I know I'm your target audience. I promise to mail more now that I don't have to think about what the price of stamps is, and whether or not I've bought stamps in the past two years, and whether or not I should add four extra just in case, or if they are bump up stamps from the last time you bumped your prices. I promise.

In fact just today, I used a Forever stamp. And I know for those of us (girls) who became adults before the advent of email, stamps used to be a means of communication. Although I don't think you guys got it, but it was there. You sent heartsy love stamps to those you love, and regular stamps to update the parents and others who might feel compelled to send you money in your college years.

It pained me, (not really), greatly to send a letter using a "forever" stamp today. It's ironic, that the letter was going to an ex who happened to impregnate me, and our only contact all these years has been through Child Support Enforcement. He wanted contact information on his daughter, which he could have gotten any number of ways over the past 18 years, including calling my parents whose number hasn't changed since before I was born. I gave him my info. We'll see what he does with it, she wants the money, I don't blame her.

I'll give her a break, she is in college, is on her own, and probably witnessed her share of my money issues over the years.

So, maybe it's irony that I had to use a Forever stamp to someone whom I've not seen in 15 years, or maybe it's not, because it seems like I'll be dealing with this forever.

....of discovery

My husband discovered I have a highly addictive personality. You think he'd have figured that out with all the Coke (big C), chocolate, shopping and sex. You'd think that one could figure out that I like feeding my endorphins. You'd think, but no. What gave it away? Biofreeze, it's like Icy Hot, only better.

We went away for the weekend and I did not have full time access to my ice packs, so I was slathering on the Biofreeze as often as recommended on the packaging. My husband joked that I was addicted, then there were jokes about Vicodin, then we realized that drug addictions really aren't funny.

I noticed that I might have an addictive personality years ago, at the time it was Mountain Dew. Over the years I have consumed so much that my body now rejects it. True story, my insides start itching if I do the Dew. I don't know if your insides have ever itched, but it is unpleasant, take it from me. Although I still love you Dew. Every once in awhile I just get the urge to drink Mountain Dew and eat Atomic Fireballs. This of course would require 2 Benadryl and a drool rag, but it sounds heavenly. (Hello newbies, I'm allergic to fake cinammon and Benadryl knocks me OUT)

My tendencies towards addiction have also kept me from gambling for 15 years. I did every once in awhile in college, but realized, thank you Tetris, that wagering money on video games would not be a wise financial plan for my life. I have been to Vegas six times and have only gambled one quarter the entire time. I lost. Come to think of it, it may not have even been my quarter. Wonder if that counts?

I can channel my powers for good though, latest addiction if family law code. I know, it's a sickness, but it fluctuates between helping my peace of mind in that there are laws being broken that should be able to be resolved, and pissing me off that there are laws being broken and no one seems to care.

I also like to run, and have been cleared medically to do so, yippee. But first comes my longest standing addiction....sleep.

...I went church hopping.

I've been at the same church for six years now, which seems impossible, but I have. This morning we had two choices, both would have been awesome. First was this one whose worship leader is this guy. We passed, due ONLY to the lengthy drive that lay ahead. We went here instead.

It's a baby of our church. And it's toddling along quite nicely. It meets in an IMAX theater, and is AWESOME. It's one of those new fangled churches. Fill in the blank type services. These are great for people who are new to the church experience. No competition to see who can find Obadiah first while not missing the point. And even more new fangled, Twitter. All the points were reinforced via Twitter, so if you missed it, Twitter tweeted and you filled in the blank. Also, the guy speaking today, not the Lead Pastor, but a real guy with real problems and real things to say. Road rage, looking at hotties, falling in love with the wrong people, all the stuff us real people deal with. As he talked, people tweeted about his Young Love:) aaaahhhhh, and Oooh road rage, all of which was cool. Also, he'd throw out a Bible verse that wasn't written down for us and someone would ask if anyone knew what the verse was and someone would answer. It wasn't the least bit distracting for those of us who have had a computer since pre-K and are used to multi-tasking. I couldn't get my phone to Twitter along, but next time I go I'll be prepared. Good thing, I'm sure I'd get all the tweets on my phone, instead of relying on my ever failing eyesight.

Also, the lead pastor Kevin is super nice. My husband has done some work with him. He has an amazing story and should never have to doubt that God's hand was upon his life. Just when you think that you had your life all figured out.....boom you find out God has something different in mind. So, if you are ever in San Antonio on a Sunday morning, go check it out. And set up your Twitter before hand.

...of the churning rumor mill

And what did that rumor mill spit out? That the caseworker for CPS is sooooo sick of our case he wants to resolve it, even if that means giving six kids to a woman who has failed to parent for four years. The rumor mill has it he's been filling in the blanks of the case. Counseling? Done. Parenting classes? Done. They've approved her new residence, and she no longer needs a job, she's enrolled in school. They're asking the transporter to ready herself for transporting for weekend visits.

We are viewing this as rumor and speculation. If the caseworker hates his job THAT much there are plenty of others out there. If the rumor mill is true we've retained an attorney. We just need mo money for court fees.

All in all what can I say other than...

"I will enter His gates with thanksgiving in my heart,
I will enter his courts with praise.
I will say this is the day that the Lord has made,
I will rejoice for He has made me glad"

And ask you all to cover us in prayer.

...for a test for me and a pop quiz for you.

It probably isn't a secret to any one who visits me here often that I have money issues. Not that I don't have enough, I always do. My issues are internal. I would say the only thing that I worry about on a regular basis is money. Even though I am better off than billions of others in the world I still worry.

Today was payday, first thing we do on payday? Tithe. Today I didn't want to. I did the math in my head. We paid a retainer to an attorney today so that we can move this adoption process forward. Big Girl is leaving for school tomorrow. We are $1200 down in child support because one state is fighting with the other. We have a sitter to pay for three overnights, hotel, gas, food. Mother's Day Out starts next week and somewhere in the middle of all of that somebody is going to want to eat. My little shoulder devil tried his very best to convince me that the money going to the tithe would REALLY come in handy. What if? What if? What if?

I paid the tithe. Why? Because we always pay the tithe. Because I trust God. Because feelings and shoulder devils aren't the boss of me. Because money isn't the boss of me.

Does anyone want to guess what the dishwasher had to say when we turned it on tonight?

...to share

So I watched an Oprah that I'd DVR'd the other day. It was about money. Suze Orman informed me that my self worth was tied to my FICO score. I can tell you right now that it's not. Dave Ramsey calls the FICO score the "I love debt" score. I hate debt, according to Suze I must hate myself.

The show was about helping out the dead beats that share your DNA. Do you do it or not? One family insisted that they were sharing their wealth with their less fortunate family member. They had bought her the house she was living in, with the understanding she would pay the mortgage. She found it hard to pay the mortgage what with the huge screen tv and the treadmill payments. She knew she didn't have to pay the electricity or the water or anything else for that matter because her family would not let her children live like that. This had led the family members to have no savings, massive credit card debt and no respect for their sister.

Suze said the family WAS sharing, but it was not the have's sharing with the have not, rather the have not was sharing her poverty with her family. Instead of enjoying her $88,000 salary, her sister was worried about making her two mortgage payments. Instead of preparing to retire, her mom was preparing to work until she died, because she couldn't afford to retire.

I'm all for helping, but the most helpful thing that ever happened to me is realizing that I had to do it, and also realizing that I could. I'm trying to remember this as I push one out of the nest this week. I have taught her to fly, but if she never has to she'll never know.

...Dexter Season 2 on DVD

It sucked me in from the very first line.

"I do not blame my foster parents...." I don't remember the rest, but decided it would be good training material. For those of you unfamiliar, Dexter is a CSI/Serial killer. He is a blood splatter technician for Miami Dade Police.

The opening scene shows Dexter on his boat called "Slice of Life" going out to sea. Later, it shows him throwing trash bags overboard, filled with bodies that he has killed. He is portrayed as a good guy who takes care of bad guys that the law can't touch due to loopholes and legal maneuvering.

Normally I'm not a blood and guts type, but it is the social psychological aspects of Dexter that have me fascinated as a foster parent. Dexter was found in the middle of a bloody crime scene when he was three years old. He was taken home and raised by the first detective on scene. His foster father taught him how to "act" normal while training him to "take out the trash". His father decided that Dexter was abnormally fascinated with blood and guts and taught him to channel his fascination for good, if you think killing bad guys is good.

When we are introduced to the sister, who was the biological daughter of his foster parents, he narrates that if he were to ever feel love, he would love her. Again, that fascinated me. He cared for her, he liked her, he was with her from the age of three and yet he felt nothing for her.

Dexter spends his days doing what normal people do. He has a girl friend. He hand picked her because she was a victim of domestic abuse and had trouble with intimacy. He thought he could appear normal, while not having to get in too deep with her. Again, he likes her, he cares for her and her children, and yet there is no feeling for them.

During the entire first season, which is the only season I've seen and only on CBS so it was edited for graphic content, the entire city is under the grips of the "Ice Truck Killer" a serial killer who drains the blood from his victims in some scientifically impossible way that fascinates Dexter. Dexter who is notorious for being able to handle even the most grotesque of scenes is one day called to a scene with all of the blood from those ice truck victims. For the first time ever we see Dexter freak. He later realizes that the scene was identical to the one he was found in at the age of three.

Dexter and the Ice Truck Killer begin communicating through personal ads and one day Dexter returns home and finds a Barbie doll in his fridge displayed in the same fashion as the Ice Truck victims. The Ice Truck Killer has been in his house, he knows his secrets, who is this man?

SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER
The Ice Truck Killer turns out to be the older biological brother of Dexter. Dexter's father had surmised that at the age of six, the older boy was too far gone to be taught to be normal. The older brother had spent his life in the foster system, being shuttled from one home to the next, in and out of treatment centers and mental hospitals. All the while tracking the life of his younger brother. What's more is Dexter has true, genuine feelings for this man.

At the end of the first season the Ice Truck Killer is dating Dexter's sister. One night the sister disappears and Dexter goes to save her. He is torn between the love he has for his "real" brother and the respect he has for his "fake" sister. His brother knows all about him and loves him anyway, and his sister, if she knew who he really was, would disown him. He had longed his whole life to feel. And for the first time in his life, there was hesitation and regret when he killed his brother to save his sister.

The whole show just fascinates me. I want to read the book, I think, that this show is based on. I'm sure it delves more into the psychological aspects. I've already hinted (commanded) my husband to get me the 2nd season on DVD for my birthday.

We as foster parents are not bending our kiddos towards "taking out the trash" we are pointing them directly at God and praying for a good outcome. The twins were never traumatized so aside from the issues of biology that are bound to come up I think we're going to have a positive outcome. We are unsure of what Lil Middle went through, but he sure does get God. Maybe I'll write a book on what happens when foster kids go good.

...I wonder why I can't do anything right.

So, I have a biggish family. Nothing that will get me on a TLC program. Yes, I may have six, but they are not all two. I cringe at 18 - Jim Bob leave the poor woman alone. I will admit to a fascination with the large family "reality" shows. Just this past week there was a woman with seven on Super Nanny.

For those of you joining this blog already in progress, you may want to research my feelings on P31 as all us cool girls call it. So combine "reality" tv and P31 and a little shoulder devil and give me some chocolate, I've found a whole new way to compare myself to everyone who has it all together.

What was the tipping point? Paper plates. All the cool super moms with large broods use the paper plates. Apparently you can buy them at the warehouse stores for two cents per hundred. You will have to use approximately 100 per person per day, but you never have to do dishes. Just think of all the money you will save by not running the dishwasher, you can use it for something cool like extra trash service.

I will quickly dismiss this house management tip by holding up my green sign. And for extra measure, I will wear my (what is the color of the polar bear awareness ribbon?) ribbon to make you all feel guilty about what you are doing to the polar ice caps. This being an election year, you will be able to find both sides of my position on polar bears and global warming.

Position A. Polar bears are cute. You are the higher species, you must preserve and protect the constitution of the polar bear.

Position B. You've heard of volcanoes right? Well, they send more pollutants into the air in one eruption that all of the industrialized nations have in all of their history and the earth takes care of it. I would mention God, but I don't know your specific beliefs and therefore will defer to the mother earth. Unless of course you'd like for me to believe in God, then I do but would never let him have any influence over my civic duty. This is Annie and I approve this paragraph.

It's taken me (this number removed by blog author) years to get a little bit of my act together. I've been on Dave Ramsey's Total Money Makeover a record 6.5 years. So, I didn't drink the Kool Aid til about six months ago, but we had a few issues higher than money to deal with, like our marriage and our faith and 20 some foster type children, but now I'm totally on board. All these years I've been doing something wrong and it's not the paper plates. I've been allowing myself to be the self that others thought I should be, whether it was my parents or my ex husband or a teacher or whomever I let hold sway over my life.

My husband told me today I needed to revisit my life through my own eyes. I may just have to do that. I may find that I'm smarter, and more beautiful, and more together than the rest of y'all thought I was.

...for reasons my husband is better than Michael Phelps

10. My husband is more sensitive to my schedule. He does not plan our only time together for the day for after my bedtime, well not all the time. Yes, I want to watch your races Michael, please try to schedule them earlier in the day.

9. When my husband does keep me up all night, he gets up with the kids and makes them breakfast and keeps them from bugging me with trivial requests like food and water.

8. My husband pays for the house we live in. A dry, temperate place to sleep is important. Something that Michael has not taken into account in our (nonexistent) relationship.

7. My husband is a great sugar buggie exterminator. He makes sure all of the little teeth in the house have been brushed and rid of the little cavity makers.

6. I didn't know Michael Phelps existed prior to two weeks ago, and in six weeks he'll be but a fond memory.

5. My husband was not born with flippers.

4. My husband is a great father to all of our children. (This only applies to our children and in no way makes a judgement as to the fathering capabilities of Michael.)

3. My husband knows me and loves me.

2. My husband, unlike Micheal Phelps, does not have a DUI - I know we'd all like to pretend it didn't happen, but that's a deal breaker for me Michael.

1. Michael Phelps' strongest event: Fly - Hubby's: Breaststroke (hihi - it makes me giggle everytime)

Confessions

I so enjoyed the confessions of my real live friends I decided to join in.

My first confession is I'm blogger ignorant. I'm trying the enclosure link feature and I'm not sure how it will work. If it doesn't work I will correct it, but I don't know if the google reader sends out an original copy and an edited copy when I correct something, if it does enjoy this twice. I'm also judgemental about misspellings and simultaneously afflicted at times with the condition myself. ****Note it didn't work like planned I don't know what's wrong with my understanding*****

I may be the reason for boob envy. I've been asked in the middle of Bible study (not by anyone loosely affiliated with this blog) if they are real, they are. There is no taping, or lifting or padding involved. I'm sorry if my boobies cause envy. I will not judge a booby intervention, all girls should love their girls.

I still believe that I am lazy and sometimes act accordingly. It was my moniker as a child and I met that expectation with all the gusto I could muster. While the three preschoolers that I taught to swim are swimming, I contemplate the six fed kids and a house that wouldn't qualify for an Oprah intervention, the piles of completed paperwork and the perfectly balanced household budget and think, "maybe I'm not lazy." Then I quickly go back to being lazy.

I hate that there are stupid people out there with degrees. I love education, and feel that I am well educated, but I can't stand school, preventing me from obtaining a degree. Then I deal with people who have degrees but no education reaffirming to myself that a degree means as much as the paper it is written on in some cases.

I get mad at the state for not following their own laws when it comes to foster care and more directly how it affects my family. I get mad that it's no ones job to help these kids. I get mad that the department blames the DA, the DA blames the judge and the judge doesn't have to answer to anyone. I get mad at God for not resolving it for us, we've asked 4,000 million times.

I have zero people skills, less when there is a phone involved. My husband overlooks my people skills, or maybe he's just looking at the boobies.

I don't care how my kids look in public. If they can dress themselves they are free to be. If you think I can't parent my kid because he's three and likes to wear his pants backwards, then that's your problem. Every teacher my nine year old has had has cried when they talk about how awesome he is. He once wore the same outfit everyday for a year.

I enjoy dressing all girly. I am upset that all girly conflicts with my role as a mom at times. I laugh at Everybody Loves Raymond the early years, not because it was funny, but the mom was always dressed in mini skirts and matching sweater sets, she would then take three preschoolers to the park. It all changed when the actress had her own kids. She looked a lot more schlumpy. I felt better.

I wish I had more girl friends before I had kids. I love my girl friends now, but we all have kids and we don't have a lot of goof off time.

So, your turn to confess it all.

...little brothers

I grew up in the day where we went to sleep every night praying the U.S.S.R. didn't toss a nuclear bomb our way and wondering if Big Brother would come to pass. Of course nuclear annihilation never happened, and I don't think that people fear Big Brother any more.

Big Brother, we feared, would spy on us in our homes, make note of our comings and goings, read our mail, follow us around and spy on our every movement and purchase. I don't think that we fear him anymore, I think this because we are all paying his little brothers to do it for him.

We've stopped sending letters that the government can't open, and do all of our correspondence via email. They may not read each and every email that you send, but give the hint of probable cause and everything you've ever sent or received is right there at their fingertips.

We would be outraged if government vehicles followed us around town and made note of where we went and what we bought. Of course we'll shell out the money every month to have little brother OnStar keep track of where we go, and little brother Mastercard to keep a record of all of our purchases, or better yet we use cash and a little brother "store card" because it saves us forty cents. I have seen dozens of true crime shows where the perpetrator purchased his murder kit with a store discount card. Again, no one is sitting around viewing all of your records everyday, but next time something big happens when your are in the neighborhood, don't be surprised if you get a little visit.

But at least we can feel safe at home because we are paying little brother alarm company to keep track of our comings and goings. What door do you use? I don't know, but I bet somebody does.

Of course you may view this as the paranoid rantings of a right wing whacko. There are hundreds of millions of transactions going on every day and the chances of them personally spying on you is slim. I worry about what doors it opens for the future. We're willing to trade what appears to be very little freedom for the illusion of a lot of security. Ever seen a Dateline on how fast the alarm company responds when you really need them? Because of one incident years ago thousands of people every day take off their shoes at the airport. And I'll bet you didn't know that last May it became law that the DNA of your baby will be collected at birth. This is of course for "research" until they get a hit in 15 years on some punk kid and the whole database will be fair game.


Last time I checked this was still America. Exchanging a little freedom for security leaves you entitled to neither.

...Close Call and Mind Dump

I went and bought new lip gloss, always fun. It is called Plum Desert, when I opened it, the familiar smell of fake cinnamon. How is cinnamon appropriate in the desert? Plum is fruity and cinnamon is not. If you are unfamiliar with my problems with cinnamon, read this. Luckily, I'm cheap and am only out about two bucks. Although maybe it would plump my lips, plump lips are sexy, right? Not when you are drooling from the Benadryl.

I cannot wait for school. I cannot wait for a peppermint pedicure. I need a haircut.

Found a new doc that is rehabbing my wrist and shoulder. Oh, you thought it was just the shoulder, no turns out it is also the wrist, I injured it over ten years ago, but less than 12 years ago, don't exactly remember the date, but remember the event. This new doc is hilarious, I already know more about him than any person I've ever met, including immediate family. I know all the pseudo names for the bones in my hand. If you are wondering, my "might" bone is dislocated. Getting the electronic muscle stimulation, and if I didn't know better I'd think I was all better. Doc says I should be able to do the ice javelin in the 2010 Olympics, I could do the regular javelin this year with my dominant hand, but what would be the fun there?

It's super quiet here right now, old three are gone and young three are asleep.

A show of hands, Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta or Girlfriend trip to Vegas?

I was lucky enough to find a "slim" pair of jeans for Radical this week. They fit great, but apparently are the only pair in town, ordered four more on the internet, for $10 each. In case you have never seen my children the light ones are not only light in color but in weight. Four years ago when our eldest started high school, she was not yet 80 pounds. State law says you have to be in a booster seat until you are 80 pounds, we teased her that she'd have to be dropped off at high school in a booster seat. She'll need therapy. Big Boy has the same problem. He is 15 and may be 90 pounds, I think he's not completely honest about it. Radical is 9 and Princess is 3, there is less than 10 pounds difference between them.

I'm exhausted, no reason other than I don't sleep enough, and am still prohibited from exercise. In honor of the Olympics I've been carb loading, sugar crash, right? I hope I can start exercising in September, I had to stop a long time ago when I could no longer wiggle into the proper exercise wear, now I can, but doc won't let me. The naughty child in me likes nothing more than breaking the rules. I won't exercise, but still reserve the right to be cranky about it.

Here's what else I wrote today on Post Adoptive Services

Reality

Don't even bother me about whether reality tv is really reality, I don't care, it's fun. I love Gene Simmons bringing in Kiss to try to kick his kid's friends butts in Rock Band. Even funnier when Kiss loses doing Detroit Rock City.

I know that it isn't usually a foot race to the finish in The Amazing Race. Again, don't care. It's quite possible that 18 hour flights are exciting, or it could be the editing.

Reality TV is much like Blogger, life, highly edited. We all share an edited version of the real thing. Sure I'll share the highs and lows, funny stuff and yucky stuff, I'll stage some things to talk about, I'll shoot it from different angles, but when it gets too real I'll stop typing.

The closest thing to real reality is what happens under this roof each day, but even then we don't all know each other, really. We only know about each other what each of us chooses to share. There may even be an issue with not knowing ourselves enough to articulate to others.

Anyway, thank you for joining me in my reality.

...Am I Supposed to Be Nice or Not?

The problem with blogging around is that you run into a lot of opinions. A lot of people very passionate about their brand of service, their salvation and their life for God. So passionate, in fact, that they have come to believe that their way is the only way. You aren't a "true" Christian unless you attend this church, read this translation, home school your kids, only wear skirts, make your own clothes, etc, etc. Or you aren't a true Christian unless you tell everybody you meet the God awful truth about themselves. "Hi, you are a filthy sinner, you're going to Hell." There's more to that, but I stopped listening.

I once heard a sermon, don't know the guy's name, but he was telling everyone his story. It was a good story. He lived near a small town, not small small, but less than 50,000 and he decided, before he found Christ, that what that town needed was a strip club. So, he opened up a strip club, and on the side a little pharmaceutical sales. He was one of the largest employers in town, then one day Christ got a hold of him and bam, he realized that a strip club was degrading to women, and he'd shut it down immediately. He felt bad that he was putting so many people out of work, that he hired them to help with the pharmaceutical business. What was more, was he felt that selling coke was ok if he tithed on it.

He told that story to convey the fact that your opinion doesn't matter. You may have the power to judge, but you don't have the power to convict. He tithed on his coke business for years until the Holy Spirit convicted him. But until he was convicted by the Holy Spirit, he was judging his fellow parishioners and their lack of tithing. He of course became a full time pastor, but that story has always stuck with me. He did not see what was wrong with tithing on coke money, I'm sure many people told him it wasn't right, but he wouldn't listen.

It's like calling up your prodigal and lecturing him or her about their wayward ways. They aren't going to hear it, you are just their stupid parent who never had any fun anyway. I'm sure that some people need to be smacked up side the head and told the awful truth, but I'm also sure that that approach wouldn't work on everyone.

I'm not always nice, in fact niceness for the sake of niceness bothers me. But really, you want me to make my neighbor a cake and take it to them and then tell them they are going to Hell, is that really the best approach. Or better yet, leave out the cake and just confront them on their lawn. Of course the confronters don't want you to be "nicer than God", so be mean. "Hi drunk bastard, how's your slutty girlfriend? Hope you and all your evil friends enjoy Hell, cause that's where you are going." Honk, honk as I drive away in my Jesus mobile. Or "oh I see you read the NIV, you know you'll spend eternity in the pit of Hell with all the other unbelievers, to really get to know God you must read it in His translation, the KJV." or "I see you let your daughter move away to college, I hope you all enjoy spending eternity together in Hell, you shouldn't let your daughter move anywhere but directly to her husband's home."

I may be exaggerating, but not by much. People aren't being saved because we are nice or we are "telling it like it is", people aren't being saved because we all look like a bunch of idiots, more concerned with which translation everyone else is reading and not reading our own Bible. If you go directly to God each and every day and seek His will for your day I don't think this would be an issue. And as for the Bible translators, I don't think they got into that line of work so that they could misinterpret the Bible for millions of readers. Can you imagine the accountability they have. No thanks.

...I can see clearly now

Last week I went to pick out new glasses. I got pink girly ones, to add to my collection of black studious, and nearly invisible ones. As the optician was entering my order into the computer the computer kept rejecting it. Judging beeps from the computer hinting to me that I should skip looking for glasses and start looking for a well trained dog.

She apologized as she dialed the phone to see if someone on the other end could override the limits, I told her it was ok - I was not unaware that I am blind. OK, not blind, but without correction I can't tell my children apart at opposite sides of the room. I'm so blind that when they ask me what the smallest line I can read is, I cannot tell there is anything there to read. Even the gigantic E that is the size of a persons head. Can't see it. I can tell there is a light shining but cannot distinguish the borders of it. Just a big ball of light.

The nice thing about being nearly blind in America, is that it is little more than an inconvenience. In many parts of the world I would be virtually useless. My whole life would be out of focus, faint blurs where people should be, driving, if allowed, would be impossible. I may not even be able to find my way home, who knows. I am sure I would adapt. The thing is, there are people in this world right now who have my vision problems and no way to correct them. But I can do something for them. I can donate my old glasses to some charity that takes them to the parts of the world that need them. So, I'm rouding up all the old unused glasses and doing just that.

Our church discussed its vision for the next year this past weekend. Brought everything into focus, sharpened up the blurriness. It's a good reminder to do it with my own life. Can I see what is in front of me? Or am I just wandering toward featureless blurs in front of me, unable to determine if they are something I want until they are within arms length. I have done it a thousand times. Wandered towards something shiny in the distance, only to find I'd wasted my time chasing after it. With a clear vision we can see what is out on the horizon and decide whether it is something we want to pursue, or if it's getting us closer to what we are pursuing. Instead of wasting our time wandering after whatever catches our eyes.

...Extra Grace Required

Several years ago our pastor shared that some people are EGR. Extra Grace Required when dealing with them. I have modified it slightly to be EGS, Extra Grace Sown, and EGR, Extra Grace Reaped. Today I woke up a person needing extra grace.

I have my reasons, first was I was not early to bed, we went out last night, had fun, came home late. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

So, when I finally got to the point where sleeping would have been convenient, all I could hear was the buzzing of mosquitos. And there I was trying to ninja fight the invisible forces conspiring against me, and I was losing. Note to self, pay more attention in ninja class.

Drifting off to sleep was rudely interrupted by my computer, it began blaring music that was on somebody's blog page. I am confused as to why a web page would load while my computer is closed and in a drawer, but will admit that I might not have put it away properly at bedtime as putting my computer away was not foremost on my mind. I will sow a little grace here, but please people, if you insist on putting music on your blog page, put the player in an easy to shut off place. Thank you.

Computer problem solved, drifting again. Screaming Booger. The gate had been closed in between his room and the bathroom, and he needed to go. I had asked the big kids to make sure that the gate was not shut between potty training children and the bathroom, but had to sow a little extra grace here. Should have done it myself. While dealing with the Booger situation, I discovered Big Boy on MySpace and watching TV, at 2:45 in the morning. Sow a little extra grace.

Trying, again, to get back to sleep it was too cold. Someone had turned the air colder. I keep it at 79 to sleep. Thank the Lord I did not marry a warm body 77 is too cold. Too cold for Booger too who was still awake and now worried about bugs who sucked his blood. Time to cuddle and sow some more grace.

As if that wasn't enough, next thing I know Princess is knocking on the door asking us to turn on the TV. "Go back to bed until the sun comes up." Pitter patter down the hall and yell at the brothers. Dad goes to check it out and all I hear is "OH NO" all of the living room furniture had been moved to position them all to climb over the gate that prevents them from getting into the kitchen. Seems the little ones had helped themselves to a little peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. "Go back to bed until the sun comes up" and sow some extra grace.

It was then, or earlier or later, I no longer recall, that I discussed with hubby the events of the night and finally fall to sleep. Only to be awakened by Lil Middle ready for his day to start. I told him to just hang for awhile, I needed some sleep. Daddy sowed me some grace and dealt with it all.

As I type this, Big Girl is waiting for me to come bail her from losing her keys. More grace required. Big Boy didn't do his chores, more grace. I'm going to keep sowing, because I have a feeling I'm going to be needing to reap sometime soon.

...I Remember What I'd Forgotten

I love to cook. When I do it, I think I do it well. Today was a cooking day. It's not that it was time consuming or difficult or anything, but it was very relaxing. The kids knew there would be bread dough and bread in it for them so they pretty much left me alone.

Our friends are coming over, yea! He was accidently propositioned last week via a misdirected text, so we felt obligated to at least offer dinner. Not true, the obligated part the text part was totally true, and very funny. Actually we invited them over because we missed them and she broke her arm and we love them and did I mention we missed them. Life has been so busy and with 11 kids between us we don't really make time.

So, we invited, they accepted with the condition that bread would be involved. Which I had anticipated. My husband asked if we wanted to take anything over to help out due to the arm situation, I told him she'd only want bread.

Anyway, so back to the remembering part. I love to cook. It's very relaxing. I love having friends over. I love that they are close enough to make an ask of themselves for bread.

So, off to pull a couple more loaves out of the oven. I think they should make a fresh baked bread candle, it smells sooooo good.

...it's the pursuit people

I saw a t-shirt commemorating the 4th of July this year. "Life-Liberty-Happiness" It saddens me how wrong that is, you are not guaranteed the right to happiness, rather the pursuit of it.

Lottery winners are more likely to be bankrupt within ten years of hitting it big than had they not. Their divorce rate is 200% higher than the average person. (I heard that on Dave Ramsey who was reading an article) It was recently announced that for the second time this year an Extreme Makeover Home Edition home was lost by the family it had been given to. Earlier this year a family couldn't afford the taxes, most recently the family had taken out a mortgage on their paid for home and couldn't repay. Seems that having happiness given to you doesn't always work out.

How many times have we as parents scrimped and saved for the most awesome Christmas present ever only to have it broken by New Years?

Happiness isn't something that you can have delivered. It isn't something you can inherit from your parents. It isn't a wedding gift or a luck of the draw. Happiness is wild and it needs to be hunted down and drug home, when you get it their it needs to be cared for and it will escape the first time you turn your back on it, and you have every right to chase after it every single day of your life.

I wouldn't tame the beast of happiness if I could. I won't be giving it to my children, it's much too hard keeping my own happiness fed and kept, I couldn't imagine trying to look after theirs.

So if you are sitting there waiting for your box o'happiness to come with the UPS, stop. It's a late night infomercial scam. It will break before your payments start. Go and hunt some down and drag it home, after all it's your right.

...powerful testimony or TMI?

Blogging around I found this.

Which, I want to say reminded me of something but that isn't necessarily appropriate. It's like when one of the kiddos asks me if I remember when he/she fell down, two minutes ago. Yesterday after church, princess fell and skinned her knee, she asked if I remembered before we got out of the parking lot. I told her I "remember it like it was yesterday". All joking aside, I've recently been dealing with making my life seem less horrible than it really was or is.

Let's start with the first day of Bible College. Here was a room full of women (girls) discussing one girl's recent indiscretion with a boy. Seems this girl, whose name I have forgotten, had kissed a boy on their first date. They'd been friends for years, but that day was their first official date and it ended with a peck on the lips. GASP. I sat there listening to all these girls discuss their own "struggles" knowing that soon I would be asked the age old question "how far should you go with a boy on the first date?" - My answer ended up being, in all seriousness, "Montana, and no farther."

Of course my real answer would have gotten me removed from the premises four months sooner than my actions did, but I sat there listening to these women confess things that my friends had confessed at a slumber party in sixth grade. I didn't know it at the time, but some of them were being less than truthful. They may not have kissed their fiance for the first six months they were dating, but were having oral sex with his roommate in the present. (I said some, not all)

It didn't take long for the girls to tell their boyfriends my dating advice, and even less time for me to find out who in the Trilogy (dorm with three stories) was a modern day Lewis and Clark. A lot of guys wanting to know just where Montana was and wondering if they could get there.

I was the Prodigal not ready to go home. More content to live with the pigs than to admit that I had. I'm quite sure one or two of those girls would have fainted dead away had I told them I wasn't quite sure what was appropriate behavior on a first date but the last first date I was on ended up with a couple months of pretty good sex. Or that I'd gone farther with faculty (at a different school) than any of them had ever gone with anyone. Or that their beloved professor of Bible history, or whatever, called me "legs" when no one was around. But of course the reason that I didn't tell any of them the truth, is because it was not something that I was proud of. I wanted to be at home raising the fatted calf, not the one it was killed for. And so I sat there with the rest of them pretending we were in our Daddy's house and not the pig barn.

It would take me years to understand that there are more prodigals than brothers. Those of us who tell God that we're going to go and try things on our own for awhile, that our own best is going to be so much more awesome and fun than the great life He can give us. The brothers are bothered that never being lost is no reason to celebrate and the prodigals, knowing what they know now, regret that they were only lost because they had wandered.

The reason that a 20 year old memory is also a recent memory is because I'm while trying to honor the story of my current life, it doesn't make sense without the old life. What constitutes a "boyfriend"? I'm not 100% clear on what exactly a "hookup" is or what it implies. And do I have to spell it all out to convey just how ugly it all was? While I've never been addicted to anything stronger than caffeine, I do understand the power of a testimony of a meth addict turned Jesus freak. Maybe I just don't like the words attributed to girls like me. Am I like Jon trying to pretend that it's just a bloody nose?

I want to be honest about my struggles, but when does it stop being a "powerful testimony" and become TMI? I had never been faithful to anyone until I met my husband. In fact I moved in with my current husband when I was married to my last husband. I have had to overcome a thousand temptations, a thousand times, but he has been my one and only since the day we met. Obviously we weren't practicing Christians at the time, but is that helpful to anyone?

Do you wish that you could finally be honest about the fact that you would kill your mother for a drink? Or that you want to run off with your boss? Or that you can honestly understand why people beat their kids? Or you have a choice to make and wishing that someone would tell you what is on the other side of it.

On the long journey home, I found out that it didn't matter where I'd been, Daddy had been waiting and watching. My brother had been feeding the calf. The pig farm isn't all that. And when you are ready to wake up somewhere other than the pig slop there will be a calf for you.

...I can lift my own arm

I know, marvel at my super powers. This may not seem like a big deal to anyone. But it is huge to me. I have had pain in my left arm since October. Yes, I saw a medical professional shortly thereafter, "take these, don't use your arm." Well, that didn't so much work for me. I was told to go to the chiropractor, but come on, chiropractor.....please.

I was wrong. By April I couldn't even sleep without pain, let alone do anything. And yes it worked. But it was slow going. Even as late as three weeks ago, I was having more pain days than not. I couldn't brush my hair without strategizing the least painful way to do it. I'd been seeing a guy locally about three times a week, and figured that the stress of travel to Vegas would require me to see someone there. I googled Las Vegas Chiropractors, and found one I knew how to get to.

Providence intervened and I happened to find a guy who could fix my problem. I scheduled three appointments with him, although by the time I left the first one I was questioning my thought process. Day one he beat the crap out of me. Seems my shoulder had locked up, verified through MRI, and he just so happened to be an expert in locked shoulders. So, he beat me up and other than the bruising that I felt when I left, I was no longer in pain. Praise Jesus.

By Friday I could carry a three year old. It was a miracle. For the most part I didn't have pain during the week, even though I was doing things that I ought not have been. I left his office that Friday with exercises. The main one I could not do. The exercise was the ever difficult lift my arms out to the side. I could do it, but not in one fluid motion. I'd have to stop several times along the route and adjust my position. Well, not anymore. I can lift my arm!

It reminds me of cheering when babies walk, we are all so amazed. Why? I don't marvel at the sight of my four year old walking across a room. In fact, it would be easier to catch him if he couldn't :) We can judge everyone else for the problems we don't have, I am probably the worst offender.

I'm sure that somewhere down the road I will take my arm for granted again. Even if I limit it to the daily physical functioning of my body I'm taking 1,000's of things for granted, I can breathe, I can walk, I can smell and taste and hear and see. But for now my arm will remind me that while I may be able to "walk across a room" without difficulty in some area of my life, there are others out there who are just learning, or who are injured and are relearning and I need to be amazed.

One Again

Finally all my pieces are back from our various adventures around the country. I gathered some after parting the red sea (I37) yesterday to go and fetch them all. Dolly part two was parked on the highway but I wasn't spending one more night without him.

It's so nice being together as a family that hubby and I left them all to go to the movies, even more to a Will Ferrell movie which he doesn't appreciate like I do. But he's hoping to see me laugh cuz he thinks i'm super pretty when I laugh. I'm just hoping that I don't hurt myself. (don't waste your time or money)

He hates being away from me too, it's because he hates coming home to the frat after party gone bad. Let's just say he puts up with a lot. Here's hoping he never wants to trade in...uh... whatever it is that I do here for a clean house. (I asked. He doesn't - aren't I lucky?)

I do have my good points, I can misquote Twain's thoughts on blogging, and the bread, yummo. I spend no time getting ready, and I am always asking super bright questions, I may be a true blonde. I am just happy to have my man back.

What's your cardboard testimony?

...I hope it's not too late for me

Is this not a gorgeous quilt? Thanks to Tracey for alerting us all to this.

Anyway, go check it out, I hope one of us wins, (me). Just kidding good luck.

To Market to Market...

to buy a fat pig, home again! Home again! Jiggity jig.

Okay we are on our way to being on our way to being home. After I get back from the "spa", I will be buying myself a truffle pig. Who knew truffles were so awesome? Of course Dove Truffles are awesome, and I think we all knew that, but I don't think they are the same...are they?

If anyone who has the capability to buy me Malibu and leave it at my house tonight please do so. I won't be back before they stop selling it for the evening, and i'm going to need more than the three oz i'm allowed to fly with.

In the meantime pray very hard for me today. I have one mentally unstable four year old with me that has reverted to about 18 months or so, this is freaking out the three year old who is throwing fits every 10 seconds. I have accumulated enough miles for a free trip and would hate to be placed on a no fly list.

Anyway, if I don't get black listed i'll be using my miles to come back here for a girls weekend. Any takers? I'll be staying in the Bellagio and eating very well.

Love and miss some of you, seriously start praying.

Really Big Boxing Gloves

Little Middle out matched by the gloves at Bounce U

FW: Not Necessarily the News From Vegas Part 1

NOTE This was originally sent Monday but somehow didn't make it. Will be out of order.


While it is possible to travel with one bag per person, you must leave your laptop at home. We did not, we took two. Add to the fact that two travelers had no interest in carrying their own stuff, and the need for carseats and we look like the Israelites leaving Egypt. Thank God for teens who understand the concept of reaping and sowing. They were a big help.

Security Note: All of the kid travel tips say to bring pipe cleaners and playdough. Let's all think for a minute how that's gonna look in the xray machine. Do yourself a favor and dump the boredom bag contents directly into the bin and repack.

Since we leave from a small airport, even the most minor bag sometimes needs to be gatechecked. This experiences resulted in an eruption for us. The combination of a ten year old zipper and rough handling resulted in big girls unmentionables being displayed for all of Vegas to see. Guess I'll be shopping for luggage today.

Apparently we still have some attachment issues to deal with. Some lady thought little middle was cute and said to him "you're cute, how would you like to go to Vegas with me?" well little middle thought that was a great idea. Hanging with us was no longer an option for him. Worse luck yet, we happened to be on the same plane. The multiple stressors of new experiences resulted in a psychiatric break at 32,000 feet. So for about an hour we had kicking and screaming and beating on the seat in front of us, and little middle exploiting my gimpiness. You may see me on dateline.

Upon arrival at the car rental, see Seinfeld episode on car rentals, they tried to tell me a five passenger car was better than a minvan. Well, if I didn't need 7 seats.....

And in weather... High 80's this is Vegas I want 110.

And finally this evening Miss USA pagaent queens were working Fremont Street last night. Little middle is in love with all of them we have a headshot from almost every beauty queen in the country. And they ate him up. When the time comes he'll be quite a playa.

More mobile blogging lata.