from this perspective...

When we have sleepovers, we usually have some sort of craft lined up. This one was particularly clever, If I do say so myself. I found the instructions on the internet to make a snowglobe and it was great fun.

You put transparent tape over your photo to make it waterproof, then you find a container - we used mason jars. Then you add a equal amounts of corn syrup and water. Add the glitter or grated PVC pipe ( that is our next experiment). We did find out after the boys got them home that mason jars are not the perfect containers and it would seem, do leak. We will have to work on that.

On my way very early this morning to a house full of sick kids. There are no crafts involved today. Mostly it involves holding kids, getting medicine and passing out Seven Up to anyone who will drink. Somedays are that way - of course, it seems like it has been way longer this year.

Somedays, it is sleepovers and crafts and somedays, it is comforting and taking care of. It is the same for us big people... figure out where you are and you are 90% there...

I was created to make your praise...glorious

Driving home last night, right in front of me was this glorious sunset. It was a massive visual of color and texture. I don't think I had ever seen clouds in little chunky, pillowly pieces. They were small and numbered in the hundreds. It was like there was one for each of us and God was just letting us in for a small glimpse.

The song, "Glorious" from the soundtrack The Gospel, had just come on the radio and I knew that it was one of those moments. It had been a long day, filled with lots of twists and turns and I was feeling the burn of tiredness but I perked right up after a few chorus of song and this amazing sight.

The song is absolutly right - we were made to praise Him. We forget, get busy - perhaps too busy. We don't think we can find even a few minutes in a day to quite what we are doing that seems so important.

I was created to make your praise...Glorious.

Yesterday I had a glorious reminder, today I may have nothing but my own wits. Either should be enough. I just need to remember whose I am and why I was created and be ready to blown away, every once in a while...

reverse psychology...

HEAD ON - APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD
HEAD ON - APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD
HEAD ON - APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD

What a irritating commercial..yet somehow, these guys turned it into a positive.

HEAD ON - APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD
HEAD ON - APPLY DIRECTLY TO THE FOREHEAD

then a girl/guy walks on

I HATE your commercial but LOVE your product.

That is brilliant marketing. They identify with our feelings and give us a reason to hate yet love what they are selling. Gives us some dignity while still getting the desired outcome. The makers of Boniva could learn a few things from the Head On people...

Sally Field pours herself a cup of coffee and starts to share a touching story about a good friend of hers. She goes on to explain that this friend has apparently been troubled by finding time each WEEK to take a pill. Sally tells her about one a month Boniva and suddenly, it is a whole new world for her friend.

What kind of trouble are we in as a society when taking a pill once a week, is a hardship. What are we doing that is so important that taking 5 seconds to take a pill every 10080 minutes is a dip in our week? The Boniva people need to sit at the feet of the Head On people and take some notes.

The one who REALLY understands is the caveman from Geico. He gets it. He makes it perfectly clear that we are totally incapable of forming even the most simpliest of thoughts even after he and the other cave people have done a lot of the work for us...Sorry, we couldn't get that to you sooner.

It explains alot about us as a culture. The next time I feel like I am flying on top of the world and perhaps, a little ahead of most of the pack, it would heed me to remember for where I come. There is only a short distance between the us and while I prefer to identify more closely with the indignation of the caveman, I am the same distance to Sally Field's befuddled and over extended friend.

God help us to take our eyes off the Prize to save time taking pills or waste time being irritated by non-irritating things or hate instead of love. It really is all relative and it is about keeping it all straight in our heads. Tough but doable, I am going to give it another try today...

sparring...

The boys couldn't wait until they got their camo belts at karate because that meant they were ready to gear up and start the sparring part of their training. It looks a little dangerous but they are well padded and supervised so I imagined it would be ok. I was a little worried about Keaton. He is a lover not a fighter but I did pray for those who would come up against Gage. He'll hit anything including his brother, sister and assorted bad guys. Yesterday was my first time to watch them in action and I was mentally prepared to see them get hit.

Gage threw us a curve ball. He was matched up against a girl and when he wouldn't throw a punch or attempt a kick, we thought it was because it was a girl. After several minutes, we stopped and asked and he was somewhat vague. Still thinking it was a girl thing, they switched her out and put a boy as his partner. He still would not engage in any part of the sparring exercise. Finally it was time to move on to the next thing and as I helped him get his sparring gear off, I asked him what was wrong, "I'm hot", he said.

I wasn't convinced then anymore than I am this morning, There was something going on - he had done it several times before but he wasn't going to do it yesterday. I think we all have days like that and some of those days, I would be hard-pressed to explain why either.

He was fine before and fine after. I'm am positive that he was able to go home and hit somebody or something. Maybe he really was too hot, maybe there was nothing wrong and we will never really know for sure what his deal was but let me put it this way, if you offered me a Route 44 Diet Cherry Coke and I said, No thank you - you better be checking my pulse. Take me to a doctor, check my hearing and give me a pill...There is Something wrong. I know him that well and I would bet again the nothingiswrongtheory.

Somedays we feel off - not like ourselves and that's ok. We were created by One who understand that, He knows us better than we know ourselves. We don't have to explain it to Him. Just spend a few moments with Him, in silence, enjoying each others company. No words are needed and it doesn't have to be for a long time. Just sit for a few minutes and share the moment. Just a little peace and quiet... get comfortable and make sure you are not too hot...Happy Friday.

PS. I just finished talking to Gage's mommy and his teacher, Miss Brandi called and said she needed to come get him and take him home. He got to school, put his head on his desk, put his arms on his head and wouldn't talk to anyone. She got him home, gave him popcorn and let him watch Diego and although he isn't saying much, seems to be very content. He is not sick, just needs some time - Don't we all? We just aren't smart enough to put our heads down and refuse to go any more, LOL...

deep conversations...

Yesterday was a day filled with surprises. My phone rang at 7am and thinking something was wrong it was my ex stepmother calling. Long Story but we have been connected since we met. I was 17, she barely 10 years older with a three year old. Long after my father was out of the picture for both of us, we have had a wonderful relationship and we always pick up where we left off. She has experimented with every religion in town and finally choose Christianity a few years ago. We still have spirited and heated discussions and yesterday was no exception.

This time the topic was blacks and how unfair life has been to them. She has a black friend and is learning to see the world thru his eyes. My position is that life is unfair, no matter what color you are and if Christ is real in your life, you accept the hand you have been dealt - whatever unfairness has been tossed your way, you make it work. An hour and a half later, we laughed and I felt like I had been able to take in a deep breath and exhale satisfaction.

There were several more times that deep conversations were part of my day. In one, all I could do is listen. It was a time where comfort was needed not more pain. It was not a time of give and take, it was a time to just give undivided attention. Sometimes that is our part in a conversation - just to be there.

There were even a few moments of good, deep conversation at our digi get-together last night. In between the silly moments, we shared and got caught up with each other's lives. Because we have known each other for various but long periods of time, we fall into a natural rhythm where we can immediately fall into deep conversations. I walked away last night, feeling like I had just had a big steak - satisfied and full.

I am headed for another potential deep conversation this morning - and I can't wait. I walk away from these times seeing the world through someone else's eyes and sometimes I think that is the only message Jesus wants me to really get - See it thru their eyes, it will make all the difference in yours...

Growler...

That is how my paternal grandfather was addressed by his children and later on, his grandchildren. My grandfather was not a hands on kind of family man. His children have told tales of violent whippings with little or no chance of prior conversation. I don't remember much about him growing up even though I spent a lot of time with my grandmother.

He was a pilot, his license number was 5. He was a man's man. Those were the days before policital correctness, he worked - his wife raised the kids and he only got involved when someone stepped Over the line. He was adopted out by his father after his mother died, he and four other siblings, the father kept the youngest one. I am named after his sister who was also quite a character. Spent her life in Costa Rica, married 4 pilots and lost them all to crashes and was reported to be driving motorcycles at 75.

Grandma went to the Baptist church for as long as anyone could remember, Growler never went. He scholarshiped his distrust of religion down to his sons and daughter, who in turn passed it to my generation. He must have had a soft side even though I can't remember one. He always called us Suzie-Q. He couldn't remember our names so Suzie-Q it was to all girl grandchildren and daughter-in-laws. He is most famous for his fishing philosopy. A fierce sportsman, fishing was everything to him and it wasn't something to be shared. If someone suggested making it a family affair, he would say, " It's not fishing if there are women and children involved, its a picnic". It wasn't like we ever wanted to go. It was what it was.

He watched me get married and he watched himself become a great grandfather. It was the most tender I had ever seen him with a child, maybe he couldn't believe he was that old or the part of his life that had he had never been quite comfortable with, made sense. He also met Jesus when he was in his 70's. In one of the last conversations we had, his first question was, "You still reading your bible?...Good".

He was a man of few words, a man of mystery but he is one of very few that I am anxious to catch up with in heaven. My grandma passed away befroe he did but they lived in the same nursing home. After she died, they said he was lost without her and he died shortly after. Men of those days were stoic, I guess he did think she hung the moon, probably her cooking. The woman could cooking like nobodys business. She was as tall as she was round, he was tall. They looked so funny together.

Haven't thought about them for a long time but the picnic quote came to mind yesterday. I was pondering over an concept and I thought about how policital correctness , at times, has changed and diluted what is pure. Thanks for the reminder, Growler. Talk to you later...

mama said there'd be days like this...

When you are doing a daily POTD or you blog 5 days a week, you can not expect to hit a homerun everyday. While there may be a personal expectation of Something Not Awful, to expect less than perfection on a fairly regular basis is down right sound theology. Jesus said When, not If - what is my problem in doing the same?

My sinus-driven headache got me out of bed pretty early this morning and all I could think about was prayer. Not for me but for a bunch of you guys for a bunch of reasons. It didn't make my headache go away but it did give me a sense of When, not If. For each of us, being lifted up to the All Mightly One may do nothing visible in our lives but it is in the invisible, that we may receive. It may be in the invisible that we grow and thrive and accept love. It is not always about what we can see or touch or feel or read.

It would be tough to have an invisible blog or take an invisible photo but behind the words or the camera is a sense of well-being. Learning to accept days like this. Even when we think there is nothing to say - just being here today is a miracle and a gift not to be taken lightly. Maybe not as witty or profound as one would like, the timing couldn't be more perfect. Who knew that the invisible could be made visible in my heart and mind?

perishable skills...

Heard this term on a US Marshals TV show yesterday, in the context of weekly visits to a firing range. Constant practice is needed to keep their shooting skills up to date and the idea of a skill being perishable, never occurred to me. I loved the friction that the combination of these two words brought to my head and it got me to thinking about the PS that I carry around.

Are all skills perishable? I have always heard that once you learn to ride a bike, you never forget how. I thought that most skills were that way. I can still recite two spanish phrases that I learn in 7th grade with complete accurary. I was a whiz in my high school steno class but there's not much call for that skill anymore. My typing class could probably be considered a success Story because well, we all have keyboards. I think that while the invention of the computer was done by men, they had a learning curve when it came to the keyboard.

At our sleepover this weekend, I got out an old typewriter for the boys to play with. They were intrigued by the keys hitting the ink and the words on the page. They didn't like that there was no delete buttons if you made a mistake. They woke up the next morning and started playing with it again. Spending a lot of time with a typewriter wouldn't help them on Xbox or online at Nick Junior. It wouldn't be a help to them in any area of their lives.

So, maybe we have both - perishable and concrete skills and maybe, just maybe, we can't tell the difference and when we try to use a perishable skill, one that is covered with a thick layer of dust, it doesn't work so well. Now, that makes sense.

I need to rethink this PS thing. Some things have to be done over and over to get through my thick skull. Some things have to be done over and over to make them come naturally and some things have to be done over and over because they are perishable. If they are not used, they will go back and be of no use. Another piece of the Big Puzzle - some times it is just about using what we all ready have in a different way...

hair today, gone tomorrow...

Yesterday was the Big Day and it went off without a hitch. Miss M saw the pink cape and gladly climbed up in the chair of beauty and was ready to do. Gage continued on with his Shirley Temple - he can't get enough of marachino cherries and wanted to make sure he got to take the rest of them home. Mommy and Auntie Mel figured out how much bangs she would need and now she looks liek a big girl girl, I think she looks young, everybody else thinks she looks older. The best part is that she can see now. Only her bangs were involved, not sure she will have a full haircut for a long time. I get that - except for bangs, I didn't have a haircut until I was almost a teenager.

My father and uncle went to beauty school to meet women and there is where it finally happened. My sister and I were taken, like lambs to the slaughter, where these two men used us as practice dummies. It basically looked like they had put a bowl on our heads and cut around it. I remember hearing all the girls moan and groan as the hair fell to the ground. I think the boys got a lot of date mileage out of it but I also remember liking it. No more Sunday nights sitting on the furnace waiting for it to dry. It was easier to take care of - I was the one who got sent home from kindergarten because I had got myself ready for school and there was some kind of hair issue. All these years, I kept my hair short. My sister grew hers back immediately and it stayed that way. Until now.

Her hair is the shortest it has ever been and mine is longest than it's ever been. I don't know that either of us planned it that way and now that we live a mile apart, it is really obvious. We also look more alike than ever. Those Pictures That Lie of our childhood don't have us looking alike as much as we do now but those are the facts.

Women and hair - whether you are two or 102, it is always part of who we are. It always matters and we will buy anything that we perceive will make it better, stronger, thicker or will wash that gray right out of our hair. It is a lifelong love/hate relationship and Miss M is just starting her journey. Looks like she has got it all, under control...

ps. for Cheryl -my 6 oddities... ok, girl, here ya go...1. hate lotion on my feet. 2. scrambled eggs must have mayo in them. 3. Diet Coke is breakfest, lunch and dinner. 4. feet have to be outside of blankets in bed. 5. have to watch the garage door come all the way down to remember I closed it and last by not least, 6. must have TV on to go to sleep...Happy Friday

lie to me...

As I examine my current love of photography with my history with pictures, I find it has been a slippery slope. My stance has always been that pictures lie - they capture the good in spite of the truth. My theories were based on childhood experiences and the pictures that showed a very different side. After childhood, I never remember having a camera until I became a mother.

That gave me a chance to see the world thru the lens with more love. I didn't know what I was going for but in hindsight, I wanted the pictures to show the happy and unhappy times. I am not sure I succeeded until I became a grandmother.

Now it is true and I am totally and completely in love with my camera. Some of my favorite shots of the kids are their scowls and their dontyoudaretakemypicture faces. The boys love taking pictures and yesterday in the midst of fevers and runny noses - we had ourselves a great picture-taking session. Gage took this one of Ms M and me. I have got 50 more to go thru and looks like I might have hit the jackpot on a few.

I just got my coffee table book of 2006 pictures and digital layouts from Blurb and I couldn't be happier. From now on, this is the only way to go. No more 4 x 6 albums laying around - technology has pushed me upward and I am more than happy to be pushed. There is truth in the pictures I take now and I hope it stays that way. Only when we face the good and bad of who we are, can we make a difference - to ourselves and others.

On my way to witness Ms M's first haircut, not all over just her bangs but the camera is ready, the Shirley Temple drinks are packed and I expect us to have a great time but if we don't, the pictures will tell her Story, for us now and for Mis M. later...

lane ends...merge right.

I spent yesterday at the VA hospital at a review meeting for DH father. All the different department heads bring you in and give you an over all picture of how he is doing. Today's meeting was a bit different, twice as long and we mainly talked about his dementia and how fast it is progressing. Last Friday was the first time he didn't recognize me, he thought I was his daughter who lives in Canada - said he got my letter and knew I was coming...

It is not as sad as it sounds. He has lived a long life. If there is sadness, it is that his body is working fine. Looks like he has some hard days ahead of him. They said that dementia is different for each person and he has the paranoid version. They also said he has lost that part of brain function that controls the social part, meaning he no longer gets embarrassed by anything and that for him, this is a good thing.

On the drive home, I couldn't help thinking what it must be like not to see the signs of life anymore. To not be able to comprehend the barricades that warn us of danger ahead, that we need to merge, need to shift, to stay safe. From where I stand, it seems as improbable as it did to him at one time.

I am reminded to pay attention, while I can. When I see the merge signs, I need to take heed. I need to make changes so that I can stay the course. The same coping techniques that work when we are children - don't work as adults. We have to learn a new way, if we don't. we are headed for trouble. As for sick poppa, he will stay the course in a different way, the only way he can and as for me, I will seek everyday and watch for the signs...

reading...

I have made made no secret of the fact that reading books has eluded me for a while. I think it is a combination of digi scrapping and blog reading that has met the same need as reading. I have attempted to stroll the book section at Costco in hopes of being lured in by a snippet of Something. I miss the sight of a book on my nightstand, the anticipation of a juicy Story. I miss the way a book makes me feel, the way you can lose yourself inside pages of printed material and come out a different person.

This habit of reading is your pass to the greatest ,the purist and most perfect pleasure that God has prepared for his creatures. It lasts when all other pleasures fade. It will support you when all other recreations are gone, It will last until your death. It will make your hours pleasant to you as long as you live...Anthony Trollope.


Why does this bother me?
Do I think I am missing something?
Do I feel I am less of a person, or that I am losing ground?
What am I missing?

One does not discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore...Andre Gide.


These days, my reading consist of Golden Books and Dr Seuss. Of a little someone on my lap waiting to have the world introduced to them, again. Not caring if every word on every page is read - it is more about sharing the moment which is what any good writer is trying to convey when you read his book. If they can give you 60 seconds of forgetting the world around you, their job has been successful.

Where is human nature so weak as in the bookstore? Henry Beecher.

Last weekend, I cruised thru my library looking for inspiration and picked up Jan Karon's, Patches of Godlight, Father Tim's Favorites Quotes. It reads like a personal collection of quotes complete with handwritten comments from Father Tim - a fictional character from Jan Karon's Midford series. I was looking for quotes to use as titles on my layout pages. From C.S. Lewis to Mark Twain, it is a wonderful collection of life parables that applied correctly, could make you one heck of a person. There may be hope for me yet...

winning...

If you have been living in a cave or living in the Midwest where the power is out, you may not have heard but understanding that the human grapevine is one of the most efficient systems around, you know that 13 year old Ben Ownby was found after being kidnapped four days and that 15 year old Shawn Hornbeck who had been kidnapped four years earlier was found in the same home.

This single event has brought back hope to a nation who desperately could use some. This isn't how these deals usually go down, The odds are against finding a child alive after 72 hours is extremely low. To find two of them alive, is still unbelieveable and unheard of.

I can only imagine that anyone who heard the Story this weekend had a new-found sense of hope. As Shawn's stepdad spoke to the press on Saturday, he told of a family that never gave up hope. I am going to take him at his word even though I can't image having that kind of stamina. To hold on to hope in the midst of everything else telling you it is futile, has to be be available to a select few.

We live in a world that is much different from our mother's world. As a culture, we have to deal with things she could not even imagine. Winning has a new look, a new description and a new consequences.

Win (win)
1. to finish first in a race or contest.
2. to succeed by striving or effort.
3. to gain the victory in overcoming adversary.
4. to succeed in reaching by great effort.
5. to get by effort as through labor or competition.
6. to gain

While winning may have changed its appearance, the One who sustains us to the finish line, has not. In fact, we can come to that finish line, everyday. To put our trust in Him despite what the landscape of our lives are, makes us winners. Regardless, we can be victourous everyday - no lines, no waiting. It is there for the taking. For the taking implies action on our part - striving, effort - sometimes, great effort and a sense that winning is possible. While we have no control over when miracles happen, we do have control over being ready when they do. The lesson is not in the miracle as it is in the hope that is ready to receive it...

Cinderella Story...

The last 12 days has been a blur for the Boise State Broncos. First, they beat Oklahoma to win the Fiesta Bowl after dominating the scoreboard for over 90% of the game. This certainly wasn't anticipated by Oklahoma and from those Boise State fans I talked to, they didn't have a chance.

After the last BCS game was played, BSU was the only team without a season loss. 13-0, I believe. The 0 I am sure of, the other number-not so important. I know nothing about the rules of how the number #1 team is chosen but I would think that the '0' part would pretty much trump (with a little common sense), any other method of deciding who the winner is. AGAIN, I would be wrong. BSU is rated #5 in the nation. That means four other teams should be ashamed of themselves but in true Bronco fashion, our boys are taking the high road.

This has been a true Cinderella Story for the Bronco and the rest of us who live in this great state and have been living in their limelight. There is a big parade scheduled in a week and as of last night they have another reason to celebrate. Coach Peterson was awarded the Bear Bryant Coach of the year award. Finally, someone got it right.

We have all had Cinderella moments in our lives. Whether public or private, those moments that we just can't believed happened. Maybe your wedding day or the birth of a child. A job or award. Those moments when we are truly overwhelmed and we could not ask for more. I can truthfully say I have had many.

I am basically a walking Cinderella Story, I have been in enough therapy to know that I am one of the lucky ones. If nothing else good ever happened, I have had my share. The Comeback Kid may be a great title for my life Story. That I found Jesus in the midst of it, makes it even more incredible to me. Jesus is my Cinderella Story. He took me from where I was and helped me find my way. Today, all these days later, I am still living the dream. I know how the Broncos feel - if it never gets better than this, I have all I ever could ask for... Happy Friday.

the times, they are a changing...

I had my Walmart moment at the local copy shop yesterday. As I waited for my purse inserts to be printed, I struck up a conversation with an older lady who appeared to be having a lifetime of photos copied. We talked about photos and how they tell a Story. I told her my philosopy of photos telling a story, just not always a true one. She seemed to be taken back by my comment in the conversation to follow, it be came evident, we were not on the same page. She was making a scrapbook for her kids even though they told her they were not interested in having one. We talked about having tons of photos and having no idea who the people in the pictures were - She even admitted to copying photos of people she didn't know.

More pictures. She wanted to them to remember good times and forget the bad. I couldn't help it, I explained that my experience was I learned more from the bad that the good. That the bad was part of the whole picture and likened to throwing the baby out with the bath water. We continued our conversation but is was obvious by now that we didn't agree on much. She is my FIL's age and I am aware of that generation's way of coping with life is bascally to deny it. Very secretive in financial and personal matters, they didn't have the luxury of Dr Phil and Oprah in their formative years.

We talked about technology and she said she needed to learn more on the computer. By her tone, it was obvious that learning the computer was right up there with learning the cello - not going to happen.

She talked about keep a diary,
I talked about writing a blog.

She talked about the dates on the pictures not being correct,
I talked about downloading my pictures and keeping them in files by month.

She had her way,
I had mine,

My inserts were ready and I took them over and showed her. Her face lit up with an apprecation of what was possible. She was still there with a pile of pictures, nowhere near done,

Wouldn't have missed meeting her for all the money in the world, There is always something to learn from a person. We infused each other's day with a piece of our world. Knowing that neither of us wanted to stray from what we know, we walked away with a mutual respect of what we couldn't understand, and it doesn't get any better than that...

the more the merrier...

I am starting to love this Januaryismyfriend concept. Yesterday's Blogger blues tried to grab me but being the smart girl that I think I am, I ran away...fast. Sometimes retreat is not the superhero-kind of exit but it still works, perfectly well.

Since I had a lot of hours and not much going on for the day, I decided to check on my creative mojo and see if like the groundhog, I could see its shadow. To my surprise, it had returned. I did a few layouts and started on my 2006 Blurb coffee table photo book. I was still working on it when DH walked in at 9PM. I was at a good stopping point so I shut down the computer to heat up some baby-back ribs for him. With hours like his, knowing he has a good meal to come home to - makes his day.

Last Sunday my daughter told me I was a saint for putting up with DH work hours. Coming and going, the phone ringing 24/7 and not being able to plan anything is not for the faint of heart. Being an introvert probably is where the sainthood part comes from. The phrase, the more the merrier, is not not a concept I can wrap my brain around very easily. I love spending time with a few but don't need daily personal contact to survive. I am sure that if the extrovert side of me functioned at all, this would be a much bigger problem. For the most part, we are a perfect fit. Not always, mind you - hard to believe but I can be headstrong and a handful at times.

I had never thought about why I feel a negativity toward a the more the merrier mentality.

It certainly isn't biblical.
Nothing Jesus-like about it.
If I don't what to spend time with people now, what about eternity?

Maybe I need a Walmart run. I dont know why Walmart but when I walk in the doors, TMTM attitude is on. Gimme me 10 people to connect with - the more the merrier. I seriously look for people to talk to. While using the Kodak photo kiosk, or waiting at the deli, I will ask for help when I don't even need it. It is the one place where the more the merrier, makes sense to me.

I am always amazed at what I can learn.
I am amazed at how God works, how He loves.
And, I am always amazed that He does it for each one of us.

I hope on some level, you have a TMTM day. Quiet time is wonderful and for some of us, precious time to recharge but to make cross paths with someone, is good for the soul....

starting late...and barely hanging on.

Blogger is having issues today.

I understand that.
I have days with my own issues
Might even have some today - the day is still young.

The picture that was to be posted is a photo from my 2007 calendar. It is a face shot of a pin-up girl and the caption reads, " Its so involved being me". That is who I feel about me sometimes.

I feel sorry for my friends. It is tough being my friend. On any given day, whatever I am thinking is pretty much coming out my mouth at the same time. I feel like the comedian Ron White, "I had the right to remain silent but I didn't have the ability".

I understand having issues.
Have been in a creative slump for a few weeks, just pulled out of it today.
So Blogger, take a day...Have your issues...Will leave you alone because I understand.
Hope you are feeling better tomorrow...

POTD...

Early October, I had this FABulous idea to take on the much-herald picture of the day challenge. I asked myself, How hard could this be? I had been blogging daily for almost a year and had the personality that would be a super fit for this endeavor. Start date was to be Nov 1, 2006 and run until Nov 1, 2007. Piece of cake...

By Nov 5, I was ready to cry "Uncle". Day five, can you believe that? As the worst part was I had dragged someone else into this crazyness. I pushed my way through November. Having a holiday and Black Friday helped my mood and then thinking that December would prove to be a piece of cake, I merrily went on my way. December turned out not to be a piece of cake and I struggled the entire month except for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Some days, the picture came from nowhere and was right in front of me, the school bus being one of those

days. Mission accomplished - didn't have to think about it for 24 more hours. More days than not though, I would jump up at 9PM, remembering that I forgot to take picture, grab my camera and take a picture of ANYTHING. My only so-called goal in this whole project was to learn to be more in the moment and that has been the opposite outcome, to date. For my friend that I dragged into this - she experienced a death in the family in December and still felt the pull of the POTD. WE are both anal - we could not take 2 pictures on Monday and count them as entries for Monday AND Tuesday. Pure legalists - that would never have been acceptable.

January brings it own little party to the mix and I have struggled to keep up. As I started this post, I admit I was ready to give up. Maybe do some sort of on-going picture taking but as for the everyday hereIam-theperfectpictureTAKEMETAKEME, I was done. This was not working out for me. How I was goign to tell my friend that I was bailing out was another matter. As I went back in my POTD folder to pick something for er, I reviewed the November, December and January folders - I saw what I needed to see. November reminded me of Election Day, the Rolling Stones concert and my 55th birthday. Before I opened the December folder, I already knew - I had changed my mind...

Life is short as is my memory and when I can see that in three months worth of photos, I see why I am doing this. I don't expect the struggle to end or even diminish but as in all things that work together, there is a bigger Picture that I don't want to miss. I may only be happy with 1 out of 25 pictures but that is not the point. The point is that not to miss out while waiting for that perfect shot.

On my way to watch my babies today and there will be many favorable opportunities to get today's shot. Tomorrow, maybe I will take a picture at the dentist's office. Maybe by November, all the shots will seem perfect. Now that would be perfection...

January 2007...

If the first week of 2007 is any indication, this year should be a doozie. I am feeling somewhat like the picture except I don't know if I am the black and white or the colored part. Feeling like I still don't have my 2007 bearings - I have been all over the board with the diversity of the week's events in my life. Some were super, some were unexpected and some were just business as usual. Maybe it is just me - or the onslaught of the January blues that I dread every year.

It should be a wonderful month. No holiday to buy gifts or decorate for. It is a month where you can pick up a book, grab a blanket and be totally justified, everyday. It is a month where creativity and inspiration have no competition and should be able to run rampant. With all this free time, it should be the month where prayer and meditation come as naturally as breathing. However it is seen in the light of depression. The letdown and reality of December flows over and January takes the brunt and gets to have the bad girl reputation. The first week is always about remembering what we purposefully have forgotten that last few weeks. The weeks of gluttony, overspending and out-of-control activities are over and we have to shift back to the Middle, ready or not. It is seen as a fresh start, a new beginning but with a fatalist twist. We dread the gloom of January and the lack of anything to look forward to.

I am suggesting to myself that I give January another try. Let's try and see if turning that lack of activity to a positive might not bring a little joy to a traditional time of doom and gloom. Starting today, I am going to enter the second week with a different perspective and see if there may not be some merit and good come from it. I like the feel of this, I am already looking forward to it!

I started the week feeling uninspired. Have not had a creative idea all week. Am on month 3 of my POTD and with January here, I have dreaded it. Taking photos is good when it is good - doing it purposefully everyday is something else. Maybe that will change. I don't expect to enter February feeling like I needed more of January...I will save that for next year...

in the news...

I don't think the problem is actually about parasites, even though it is spelled correctly. I don't even think the problem is about "loosing wait". The thing that troubles me most is that this person is certified. As for the thin comment, I think she has a point and it most definitely, a she.

The newspaper can be an endless source of entertainment. From the important to the mundane, the newspaper gives us its personal spin on the world at hand. I paid my annual newspaper renewal yesterday and for $117, we will spend the next 12 months with a whole host of entertainment.

My personal favorite is find typos and our local hometown paper is notorious for them, I once had a heated debate with the editor about misspelling simple words and not being caught by the four proofreaders they had at the time. All she could do is defend their attempts at correctness without complementing their finished work. My DH enjoys most of the different sections of the paper making it well worth the costs. He counts on me to share the important things that he may miss, that make the newspaper worth its true weight.

I was proud this week as our Broncos walked away with an UNBELIEVABLE win. They went all out and no blue/orange ink was spared. As long as they keep providing material for Jay Leno's Headlines on Monday night - I will be happy...

coasters...

I am not much of a coaster gal. Coasters, tablecloths, placemats and runners. I don't have the time or energy. My house is covered in oak and I decided a long time that trying to protect their finish was not in my DNA. My dining room table is a old square quarter-sawn oak table and I wash it off with soap and water, several times a day. That might make a collecter want to cry but fits me to a T.

I do howeever own 2 coasters. One was a gift. It sits by my nightstand, basically as a icon. Chocolate is the answer, no matter what the question is. While there is much truth in it, I often exchange, "Jesus" for "Chocolate", I find it a great reminder after a long day or the start of a new one. The second one, I bought myself. I was sent to check out a new little store that opened in town. There were alot of house decorations and then a coaster display toward the front of the store. I gave the display a once over and my eyes landed on this coaster. "Wherever you go, go with all your heart". I knew where this one would land - right by my keyboard. When I am at my computer, the coaster is there. When I saw it at the store, it reminded me of what my DH always tells me, "You feel everything so deep". Not sure that he means it as a compliment but over the years, it has helped me understand myself better. Either, I don't care one bit or I am passionately involved with all my being. My icon coaster reminds me to balance and be in the moment. Its not there to protect my computer table from the stain of a diet coke can but to protect my heart from the stain of being oblivious. I think of the emotional "coasters" I have worn over the years to protect myself from being saturated by those things that may distort. My lacquered finish has thickened through the years, thick where it should be thin and maybe even, thin where it should be thicker. I don't know where this day will take me, but I leave with great hope...

9 days...

Started my day at Gerald Ford's state funeral. It was a visual and spiritual journey. Maybe it because I think it is when America is at its best. The pomp and circumstance of the moment with all its tradition. As Holy, Holy, Holy is being played by the Marine Corp band, the flag-draped casket is led from the church down the steps between two rows of uniformed militiary and honerary pallbearers. It was a wonderful way to end the last 9 days.

You could never have imagined that so much could happen in 9 days. Christmas and the ringing in of a new year. The deaths of James Brown and President Gerald Ford. The hanging of Sadaam Hussein. The nail-biting win of our Broncos in the Fiesta Bowl. Such a wide range of emotions, you didn't know what to feel - when.

The night of the execution, time was short and I prayed outloud, May God have mercy on your soul. I don't know how God will handle the Sadaam's of the world - much different than you and I, I would imagine.

It was 11Pm last night when my family and I started screaming and cheering as Boise State beat Oklahoma. The underdogs who were never given a chance, led for 58 minutes, tied the game with 18 seconds to spare and pulled off the win with a stunning 2-point conversion. I learned something from Coach Pete last night - Never Give Up. You see, I had. I had given up in my heart, ready to go home. More than a win, I walk away with an icon that I will hold on to from this day forward.

Our holidays were merry and bright. We followed Santa on the internet this year and when he hit New Orleans, the kids headed for bed. Technology is a beautiful thing. If the last 9 days is any indication, we may be in for a whirlwind year. Whatever happens, I am going to keep on walking, never giving up and loving Jesus, no matter what. As I watched a comedian this weekend talk about our current president as actually believing that God created the world in 7 days, I smiled to myself. In that moment, I realized that its not about whether I believe the world was actually created in 7 days but that I believe that He is able. 2007, here I come!...