Yay. Another friend has started a blog. Eventually I'll add it to my blog roll, but not tonight. Instead just visit her by clicking on: www.lkrambling.blogspot.com Be nice and leave a comment.

Three things I'm thankful for:
1. We have another insured vehicle in the family. My Durango is being ornery and has ceased operating. I'll be taking the Camero to work tomorrow.
2. I have the coolest women in my writing group. Actually... only one of us writes. The rest of us just talk about it. But that's OK.
3. There's still one more long weekend this summer.

Three out of three tests can't be wrong. Guess I really am an ISFJ

My Bloginality is ISFJ!!!My Bloginality is ISFJ!!!

On second thought; I think my eyes are more blue/green...

You have grey eyes.You are a very lonely person, who doesn't make
friends easily. Most of the time you don't feel
understood, and you feel underestimated. You
want to make friends, but you also just want to
be left alone, since you've probably been hurt
most of your life by certain people. In large
groups, you're the quiet, shy one. It would
probably help to write stories or songs to help
get out all your emotions.
The Eye color personality test
brought to you by Quizilla

Link:

Click to see Jeremy and Rebecca's wedding photos:
http://spaces.msn.com/members/jerebsweddingphotos/personalspace

I was at a wedding this afternoon

The professional photographer didn't show up.

I had my camera along...



I've just downloaded 579 photos off my camera.
I'll post a link to an on-line album someday. Not tonight.

Not tomorrow either... my writing group is having a mini-retreat on Saturday.
I'm hosting.
Life is so good sometimes.

Voila. Note the BlogRoll.

I did it all by myself.
Took all evening.
Had to redo it 14 times.
But.
I did it.

How come the font is so small?

Jon, if you're reading this (I can't imagine what you find even remotely interesting here) - THANKS for telling your dad I needed a laptop for the weekend. He's got one I can use.

So, how does it work?
Once I put the words in, how do I get them out?


Three things I'm thankful for:
1. My employee review is over. Phew. I didn't get fired. Overall, my performance is a solid 3 out of a possible 5. My kids have trained me well.
2. Asparagus and Asiago Dip. How come no one told me about this before?
3. I think I'll get to bed before 1:30 am tonight.


Take care,

Yeah. Sure.

"You are going to love having another driver in the family."
"It'll be easier once he's driving his own car."
"You will be amazed who much free time you'll have once he transports himself."

My sister said she could cut my hair today if I got there by 5 pm.
No problem.
I'll leave work at 4:20.
Pick up Max and Zac from their work at 4:30.
Be at her place by 4:45.
Have these irritating bangs trimmed by 5:00.
Be smiling again by 5:01

Then Drew called. He needed to be picked up by 5:00. No later.
Oy.
Do I sacrifice a haircut in order to get him from his dad's place on time?
No, wait!
Clint can get him.
He has an insured vehicle. He has a licence.
He can probably find his way to his dad's house by himself.

It's a perfect, fool proof plan.

I make all the arrangements and am amazed how simple it is to be at 2 places once when someone else can be at that other place...

I'm packing up my desk at 4:15, when my partner says to me, "Can I get a ride?"
Nuts, I think to myself. I didn't count on this.
"It's only to my wife's work...I'll be ready in a sec."
Which isn't usually a problem, I've given him rides before.
But his wife's work is in the opposite direction of where I am going to pick up Max and Zac.
I travel 10 minutes north and drop him off then turn around, go through 17 intersections and travel 10 minutes south. I pick the boys up at 4:45.

Not so bad. I'll get to her place by 5:00.

I call Clint to remind him to pick up Drew and suggest he attach his licence plate to the vehicle.
"How?"
"With screws."
"I'll just use duct tape."
"Whatever."

Two minutes later, my cell phone rings. It's Clint...

In the past 48 hours, he's had 2 dead batteries (once in the Durango, once with his car), he's run out of gas and had a flat tire.

"Well, you'll have to put on the spare, then drive down to get the flat repaired."
"There is no spare."
"What? Did you check?"
"Yup. Nothing there. Besides, I don't have a jack."
"Are you sure? Can't believe we bought that car without checking into that."
"Uh huh."

I'm late picking up Drew. and even later getting to my sister's.

After supper I drive Clint and Max to a youth meeting and call my dad.

He unloads his compressor and fills up the tire. He takes the keys off Clint's desk and opens the trunk. There, right in the front, is the spare, the jack and a wrench.
Dad picks up Clint's licence plate and walks over to the camero.
"He said he was going to have to duct tape it on..." I mention.
"Why?"
"No screws?"
"They're right here..."


What part about having a child driving makes one's life easier?

Ok. That's it.

Did someone order super-sized spiders for any particular reason? Cuz, the jumbo ones living at my house are freaking us out.
Max couldn't find the Raid spider spray the other night so he grabbed an aerosol can of Axe deodorant and his lighter and sizzled the bad boy who was taking up floor space in the bathroom. He left the charred carcass for me to dispose of.
Last night, 'jumbo's' big brother scared the crap out of Clint and his friend. They were watching a snowboarding video and heard him sneaking across the floor. It took two of them to bag that baby. Like cats, they left their 'kill' for me in the kitchen sink.
Dead and shrivelled, it was the size of my palm.

Is spider season scheduled to end soon?

Ooops.

I SO should have pruned this grapevine. It's supposed to cover an arbour over my side gate. It's taken possession of the rear of my house...

A banner year for my terra cotta planters...I'm lovin the smell of those petunias in the evening.

If you water occasionally, things grow.

A Day in the Life...

I wake up to the monthly dull ache in my lower abdomen and groan.
“Not today…” I complain to no one.
After swallowing a couple Extra Strength Stanley Multi-Symptom PMS relief tablets, I hope for the best.
I’ve been looking forward to this day all weekend. Nothing is going to prevent me from enjoying it.
Not even my bangs that are too long and desperately in need of a trim. I will not let them ruin my day either.
But I don’t know what to do with them. The centre ones fall flat on my forehead with the ends sticking into my eyes. The corner ones have been licked by cows so the roots flip back while the ends curl foreward into my eyes.
Sheer desperation had me do the unthinkable. I clipped them back. Are you gasping? Do you know what bangs in a clip look like? Think whale spout. Think water fountain. Think ridiculous.
I managed to flatten it down a bit. And some stray hairs escaped and fell across my forehead anyway. But the bulk of it was away from my eyes. Which is very important if it happens to be the day of the month when the nerve endings around your eyes are totally intolerant of whispy annoying hairs.

“So, what’s the plan again, mom?” Drew asks from his spot beside me in the front.
I sigh.
“Oh, just forget it. You don’t have to be so mad.”
“Sorry Drew. I thought we’d been over this about 10 times already this morning. We’re going to get a day pass for Clint’s car. Then we’ll take it through air care. If it passes, we’ll go get insurance, then leave the car at LC&T.”
“Why?”
“So that we don’t have to drive all the way back home to park it. It’ll be fine in Langley, then we can head into Vancouver.”
“What if it doesn’t pass?”
“Then we’ll take it over to Dave’s and get him to get it fixed up.”
“Where’s all this money coming from? Can we afford to fix the car?”
“Don’t worry about it. Clint and I will look after that.”
“But what…”
And so on.
That child needs to know everything.
When we got to the farm, Clint started his car, parked at the green barn, and drove it the 80 feet up to the house.
Where it stalled.
We could not restart it.
And killed the battery trying.

Some hairs were escaping their area of captivity from the top of my head and were poking into my eyeballs. It was also hot out, so my forehead was getting oily, making those hairs greasy.
“This is stupid,” I declare. “I’m calling BCAA to get a tow truck here. We’ll get it towed to Dave”s. He can figure out what’s wrong.”
“Are we still going to Vancouver?” Max asks, hopeful. That’s the part of the day he’s most looking forward to.
“YES.” I say exasperated. “I said we’d go. And we will.”
Drew and I are in the Camero. Max and Clint are at the front of the car, looking under the hood.
“Maybe we should pray.” I say to Drew.
“I already have,” he says.
“Oh, you know, Baps said we need gas. Maybe it’s out of gas…”

Clint and Drew head down to the shop to look for some gas, while I try to get a grip.
After a gallon of gas is dumped mostly into the tank, we try starting it again, but the battery is not cooperating.
Magically, there in the driveway, 3 feet away from the Camero is an electric battery charging machine.
Go figure.
When God answers prayer, He answers prayer.
We moved the electric battery charging machine into the carport and plugged it in. Then, uh, we pushed the camero into the carport as well. Much pushing. In circles. Max was driving. Drew and I were pushing. Clint was reading the fine print on the electric battery charging machine. (He is becoming familiar with bringing life to dead batteries. On Saturday, he took the Durango from the cabin and joined a bunch of camp friends for Pizza at the other end of the lake. He called 2 hours later, “Mom? I left the lights on I guess cuz the battery is dead and I can’t get it started. What should I do?”)
Anyway, eventually the battery recharged.

Hours behind my self imposed schedule, we head back to Langley to take the car through aircare. The one day permit was put in my name, so I’m driving the car with Drew beside me, while Clint and I Max follow me in my truck.
At the air care centre, Clint parks the truck in the cul-de-sac (and locks it with all the windows wide open) and both boys run over and hop (well, squeeze,) into the back seat.
This is a big adventure. All 4 of us are in the car as we enter the air care facility. Drew is looking forward to sitting in that little room with me as they do the testing and as we wait for my Visa payment to be processed he remembers all the other times we’ve done this together.
I pull forward to the testing station and am asked to leave the vehicle. The kids all scramble to get out, but the young blonde female technician invites them to stay.
Watching from the sound-proof booth, I can see them all chatting in the car, very relaxed and at ease.
Once the test is over, she waves me out.
“There you go,” she says as I manoeuvre into the car. “You have really great sons. What a nice family you’ve got.”

“Do you think we passed mom?” Drew asks.
“Doesn’t matter. She said I had a nice family. And great sons.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Clint asks.
“Nothing. But it sure was a nice thing to hear.”
“Hey! You passed!” she says with a smile as she hands us our print out.

We head over to the insurance place where we stop at 14 red lights en route. Another 40 minutes is wasted while we spend much money.
Finally we drop off the car and head west for the big city at 2 in the afternoon.

Because it’s the summer (meaning warm) and because my air conditioning doesn’t work, we travel with the windows open. The breeze is lovely, but it is whipping my hair about in a most irksome manner. I keep trying to pull it off my face and out of my eyes without much luck. The increased hair activity is causing the grease glands to work overtime and much is being produced. My extra strength pain killers have passed through my system and I’m torn between two overriding emotions; the desire to simply cut off my whole head, and the need for someone to apply a strong massaging pressure to my lower back.

We are heading into an area of Vancouver that I’m not familiar with. On our way home from the fireworks earlier this month, Max spotted a cluster of boarding shops in the Kits area that caught his interest. I was trying to find them again this afternoon. I knew they were on 4th, so I headed west along 2nd, and thought I’d scoot over 2 blocks after Granville.
I ended up on the Granville Street bridge heading north.
“CRAP” I exclaimed as I found myself on a fast moving busy bridge heading in the wrong direction. Trying to keep my hair out of my eyes with one hand, I steered with the other. My frustration level is peaking as I navigate up and down one way streets in an attempt to turn myself around.
“WHAT IS IT MOM?”
“NOTHING.” I reply, too loudly.
“ARE WE LOST? DID YOU TAKE A WRONG ROAD?”
"WHAT DO YOU THINK, DREW? WHY ELSE WOULD I YELL ‘SHIT’?”
“You didn’t. You said crap.”
“Good. I’m glad I didn’t swear.”
“Why are you so mad?”
“Because I turned on the wrong road…”
“Yeah idiot,” Clint snarls from the back seat. What did you think she did? Quit asking such stupid questions. You are so dumb…”
“Are we still going to see the boarding shops mom…”
And the other reason I’m so ticked is because of my hair, I say to myself. I should buy a hat. My friends with the small heads all get away with wearing baseball caps on their bad hair days. Sucks to have a fat head. I am powerfully vexed.
“Oh, here we are. This is it, isn’t it Max?” I say. We pulled off the bridge, back onto 4th… and voila. We are exactly where we want to be.

I park in a no parking zone right on 4th at the height of rush hour traffic because I’m blonde and have PMS. The kids shopped for an hour. They try on the ugliest snow boarding pants ever designed and dream of the upcoming winter season with giddy anticipation. When the female clerks start flirting, I decide Clint and Max don’t need me hovering, so I go back to the truck and avoid looking in my mirrors.
Drew stays with his brothers, determined to be a teen.
But the other night at the lake, he was still my baby.
We both woke up at 3:30 am to the sound of the alarm beeping. It has done this all summer. It does a double beep every 10 seconds 24/7 unless someone punches in a code. Once you’ve pressed the secret numbers, the beeping stops. Sometimes we have blessed silence for a few hours. Sometimes for only a few minutes. Oh yes, it’s astoundingly annoying. So the beeping woke us up, but the fact that the power was out, kept us up.
“Mom. The fan’s not working. It’s so dark…I’m scared.”
“Close your eyes. It’s late. Go to sleep.” I say with compassion as I roll over and ignore him.
“MOM. I heard something outside on the deck.”
“No you didn’t. Good night.”
“MOM. Please…”
“Please what? I can’t do anything. Hydro guys are probably working on it. Go to sleep.”
“Mom, why would the power be out? It’s not windy. There’s no storm…”
I get out of bed, grabbing my blanket and pillow.
“Mom! Where are you going? What are you doing?”
“Get your pillow and come with me.”

We carefully find our way downstairs. He waits at the bottom of the stairs while I feel my way into the kitchen. I remember leaving the box of matches on the top shelf in the cupboard next to the fridge. If my memory was correct, there would be one match left. Drew and I had used the rest of those matches up in June, when he and I were at the cabin waiting for Clint to complete an evening of staff training. It was a Tuesday night, and both guys had school the following day. The power was out that evening as well, so while Clint was at camp, Drew and I sat on the deck and played Yahtzee til dark. Then we lit every candle we could find (all 47 of them) and played a few more games. It ended up being (or so I thought at the time) a once in a lifetime memory for Drew and I. It felt a little bit magical in the cabin that night.
So, now here we are, in August, in the middle of the night, doing a re-run. Deja-vu.
The box was exactly where I left it. The lone match was waiting to be used. Slowly, one candle at a time, light was restored to our dark abode. Drew and I settled on a couch, each at our own ends.
“You don’t feel like playing yahtzee, do you?” I asked carefully.
“No, I’m tired.”
“Are you going to be able to fall asleep now? I asked with great sensitivity and not a hint of sarcasm or impatience.
“Well, I wish there was a fan or something. Anything that would make a noise. I keep hearing stuff outside.”
Jokingly, I offered to sing.
“OK,” he whispered.
“Are you serious? You want me to sing?”
“Yeah.”
Two things: I can’t carry a tune. And secondly, even when I can (like when I’m singing along to the radio), the kids beg me to stop. Then they demand that I cease ruining their enjoyment of the song.
And, now, at 4 in the morning, while I’m laying down, and have no music to accompany me, he wants me to warble.
“Shu shu shu shulahlahlah” I start very quietly.
And continue with ‘You are my sunshine’ and ‘the Farmer in the Dell’. I intersperse hymns (How Great they Art and Amazing Grace) with Sunday school songs (Jesus Loves Me and The B.I.B.L.E) and folk songs (This Land is My Land). My repertoire lasts about 30 minutes. My voice is rough and low. I’m exhausted and he’s asleep.
I’m worried about falling asleep with all those candles burning so I wait til the sun comes up. After blowing them all out I pass out too. For an hour. Then the alarm did it’s double beep trick. I reset it, only to have it wake me up again at 7.

But that was last Friday. It was night and he was little.
Today it’s daytime and he’s hanging with his bros.
They jump back into the truck, excited about the upcoming fashion trends; houndstooth, plaid and argyle. As they negotiate who will ‘get’ which look, I aim the truck towards the downtown core and head for the huge record store that is closing out. We park a few blocks away and stroll along Robson, window shopping and people watching. The crowds unnerve Drew, so he keeps close.
“Did you just take my money?”
“You think you can take my money and I won’t care?”
We hear some screaming as we approach an open area in front of an abandoned building.
“I’ll teach you to take my money…”
We arrive just in time to witness a guy spray painted silver hop off his pedestal and put a scruffy-looking-homeless guy in a headlock and drag him to the corner of the building where he proceeds to punch him repeatedly.
It is unsettling. For me and Drew.
Clint and Max were entertained.
The “human statue” did not let up. I can’t watch any longer, so I pull us away, just as the ‘thief’ throws the stolen coins at the street performer.
“Can we go home now?” Drew asks. “This is why I don’t like Vancouver.”

We carry on towards to mega record store which turns out to be a huge disappointment (75% off all items they were sold out of. 0% off all items currently in stock.) Interesting marketing technique. No wonder they’re going out of business.

We have supper on the roof at Red Robin’s on Robson.
And then finish off our adventure by browsing in the largest Chapter’s in Western Canada.

Clint and Drew have both bought hoodies and reading material on our excursion and are pleased with the day’s purchases.
Max, who stopped at the bank to get a whole lot of cash, hasn’t bought anything.
“If it wasn’t for that street fight, this whole trip would’ve been a write off…can we stop at the mall when we get back to Langley? I need to buy something.”

Sometimes things just don't turn out like you planned. But in spite of all the lil glitches, it was an awesome day. There are times that I just love being a mom. Today was one of them.

As soon as I got home I talked to my sister.
She’s trimming my bangs in 16 hours.

And on Wednesday night, Max and I are going to the mall.



Three things I'm thankful for:
1. Parents who have stayed married for 46 years. Happy Anniversary dad and mom. Love you.
2. Homecooked "adult" meals with my girlfriends. Thanks Donna. Your new place is beautiful.
3. Kids who have just enough of my DNA to enjoy browsing at art stores.

Raindrops on rose leaves

Three things I'm thankful for:
1. Clint's home. His stint at camp is done. Missed him around here.
2. My weekend is not over; one more day to play.
3. Our church is not closing. The MB conference is going to help us over this lack-of-leadership bump.

Two things on my mind:
1. My partner at work, Superman, and his wife are selling all their earthly belongings on the labour day weekend in a huge garage sale in order to finance the next phase of their lives... fulltime missions. I've encouraged him to start a blog, and once I figger out how to add a blog roll to this site, I'll insert a link. In the meantime, if you have any stuff you want to contribute to his sale, he'll come by in a truck and take it off your hands.
2. I'm hosting a mini writing retreat for my writer's group next weekend. They all have laptops. I have a lined journal and a paper mate pen. Does anyone have a laptop I could borrow for 48 hours?

One thought for the day:
If you judge people you have no time to love them.
Mother Teresa

More summer images

Guys playing on the floating dock.

Dad and Jim visiting.

As You Like It

I liked it fine.
What a great evening.
Went with my mom, my brother-in-law, my niece (wearing high heels and a vintage creamy coloured flowing cloak) and her friend (in a long black skirt and vintage fur coat) via the 1989 Chevy Astro van.

The wrestling scene was wonderfully entertaining and very pleasing to watch. We were quite close to the stage. And when those boys took off their puffy pirate shirts (think Seinfeld) - oh my. I called for an encore of that scene.
My favorite live theatre actor is now Peter Guck.
Donny Osmond just got bumped.

Totally unrelated; on the drive into Vancouver my mom was telling me about friends of her dad's who recently got married. She is 91 and he's 92.


Think about that for awhile.



The met in the Menno (old folks) home where they both live.


I fail to see the reason to marry.


It CANNOT be about sex.


(I just shuddered. It's not cold in my house.)

Three things I'm thankful for:
1. Full moons
2. Petunias at night
3. Beds with 4 pillows

Jonah

Oh my goodness, Poor Drew.
There I sat on my kitchen floor with my head under the sink looking for the damn button to restart my broken garburator which has my drain smelling like someone took a crap in it.
I’ve been holding it all in for a few days… and I couldn’t contain the flood any longer. Tears dripped faster than raindrops as I engaged in a little pity party.
“Are you crying mom?” he asked.
“Uh huh.”
“Why are you sad?” he wondered.
“It’s not just one thing. It’s a couple.” I replied.
“Can I do something?” he offered.
“Just help me with these dishes and I’ll be fine.”
“It’s nothing you did, by the way.” I added.

“Would you rather wash or dry?” I asked as I filled up the sink.
“Dry. Definitely.”
So with my hands in hot soapy water, I didn’t bother tensing up my stomach or sucking back the angst. I let er flow.
As Drew chatted about things he did the past few days with Sherry and Mikhail, I nodded and murmured and cried quietly.

The past 7 days have been tazmanian-devil-like busy, and even though I attempted to do a lot of good things for the right reasons, I may have bitten off more than I could digest.
At the height of my own personal whirlwind, in the middle of serving 22 people dinner at the cabin, I got a phone call from Clint.
“Mom? Have you heard? Everyone resigned at church. Two more Sundays and then that’s it. What does it mean?”
I gasped for breath as he continued asking me for answers. Numb, I told him I didn’t know.
My insides were agitated. Restless. Tense.
But with guests over an’ all, I couldn’t take the time to process nothin.

Claire called me when I got home on Monday night with additional details and even more questions.
At work on Tuesday, I overheard two of my co-workers talking about it with optimism which left me sceptical.
“Don’t worry, Jane. This isn’t like your last church. We are going to rebuild. Fresh vision. It’s exciting.”
“That’s what we thought at Fraser Heights. Those of us that were there til the end were convinced we could be apart of something new… a phoenix rising from the ashes… and whatnot.”
“No, this is different. We are totally committed.”
“So were we…”

Jonah was a prophet of God who was told to go to Ninevah and warn the citizens of that evil city to turn from their wicked ways.
Jonah wasn’t particularly interested in that gig, so he hopped on a BC Ferry-like ship and sailed in the opposite direction. As it turned out, things got rocky on that vessel as the perfect storm battered it to and fro on the tsunamish waves.
The sailors knew that someone on board was tickin off the Creator so they hunted down ol’ Jonah. Who admitted, yes, it was all his fault. And if they’d just toss him overboard, things would settle down nicely.
So they gave him the heave ho and voila – dead calm.

When our house was sold and I started looking for a place to settle on my own… I investigated 4 different areas. It looked like Murrayville was the obvious God-ordained location for me to raise my boys.
But I didn’t want to live there.
My heart was set on Fraser Heights. For my own reasons including friendships, the church and an affordable brand new house. Oh, and it was in the opposite direction from O-ville. I needed anonymity. Life was too fish-bowlish for me in Langley.
So I let my heart lead and I bought a lovely home.
The rough waters that our church was floating on got choppier.
They shoulda kicked me out.
No one did.
Six weeks later the church closed.
Some of my friends moved away.
And drug-lords moved in beside and behind me. My sweet, safe street soon housed a row of grow ops.

Two years later I threw myself overboard and sold my house.
Then a whale swallowed me and my kids. (We lived with my parents for 10 months.)

Finally in ’03 – we moved into the area that I always thought I should have moved into in the first place.

So that’s why I’m so shaken that this church is struggling.
Do they need to hoist me up and out?

Because, of course, this church’s struggles are entirely my fault.
Because, as a matter of fact, the world does revolve around me. And the weight of that responsibility just gets to me sometimes.
Like tonight.
When the drains in my house stop doing what they’re supposed to.
When too many rooms are being used as a dumping ground for ‘things I’ll get to later’ stuff.
When the grass is dead and the weeds thrive.
When my head and my heart are in conflict.

And when the tears refuse to be stopped.



I’m better now.
I’ve got some good folks praying for me.

And Drew’s gentle smile has an uncanny way of restoring light to a gloomy day.
He was supposed to be at my mom’s place for night tonight. But an unexpected invitation to spend tomorrow at a friend’s house has him right where I need him.

“Hey, look mom,” he said as we stood side by side at the sink. “It’s a full moon tonight. Your favourite. You should go outside for a few minutes and just look at it.”



Three things I'm thankful for:
1. Denim shorts
2. Blueberry muffins
3. The recycling depot 2 minutes away from my work

Too lazy for a Real post:

Harry Potter Personality Quiz by Pirate Monkeys Inc.

Ten "Meme" Questions:

1. How many times a day do you wash your hands?
Hmmm. Can’t say I’ve ever counted. Let’s say 5 times. Is that bad? (Remember, I only use the bathroom twice a day. HUGE bladder. )
2. How often do you get the flu that's going around?
Before I got this office job, where we keep breathing in each other’s air, I only got sick once a year. Now it’s like every other month.
3. How often are you really "sick" when you take a sick day?
100% of the time.
4. Who would you like to see in a cage match?
Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise. They both are kinda scummy. They ick me out. They could beat each other up. I would not watch.
5. Name 3 things you absolutely love.
Clint, Max, Drew. Oh, they aren’t things? How about books, gerber daisies and good hair days.
6. If you had to give 2 of them up which would they be (and why)?
What kind of sick ass question is this? I’d give up gerber daisies because there’s always alstremaria and irises… and SIGH, I’d give up good hair days because there are so few of them anyways. I’d never be able to give up books.
7. Name 3 things you absolutely loathe.
Being used. Being lied to. Being disrespected. Oh, those aren’t things? How about … a dirty house, an unflushed toilet, and my body.
8. What is your all time favorite memory EVER?
Clint was probably 6 and Max would have been about 3. We heard there was going to be an amazing show of shooting stars, so we packed a midnight snack, including juice boxes and sunflower seeds and picnicked with the kids in my parent’s back field. As we lay there, looking at the star-filled sky, the cows came by to check us out. Can’t remember if we ever saw any shooting stars, but that night everything in my world felt “right”.
9. What is the one thing that happened in high school that would make you avoid your class reunion?
Like 12 other ‘high school sweetheart couples’, I married my boyfriend. By the 20th reunion, the others were still married and we weren’t. I couldn’t go. Felt like such a loser.
10. What is your dream job, no matter how untrained you might be or unrealistic and bizarre it might be?
Dream job? Isn’t that an oxymoron? A dream job would be one that doesn’t start in the morning. One that I could do from home. And wouldn’t require a new wardrobe. Is there a job like that?

Yum

find your inner PIE @ stvlive.com

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Aug 15

"Hello, Jane. This is your uncle calling. As you know, this is the day of our dear mother's (my grandmother's) birth. I'm interested to know what your thoughts were when you woke up this morning and realized that Ome would have been 100 years old today..."

Right.
The 15th.
Not just payday.

Ome's birthday.

I'll need to think on that abit longer.

Way too much traffic in my mind to navigate through tonight.
Nah yo - I'll have to process my thoughts and post about it later this week.

Sehr gut.
Ich liebe dich.

G'night.

Oh no. Not again.

My church is closing down.
Found out yesterday that we will have 2 more services and then...it'll be done.

I've been here before.
So have my kids.

Can I say this SUCKS?

Not that I've taken very many this summer yet, but in case you're interested, I've posted some "Summer Pix" on my other blog: http://spaces.msn.com/members/poppygrad

I'm off to the lake tomorrow, so this'll be it for a few days.
Play nice and take care...

Thoughts on Marriage

Every so often I read a blog called, "Junkmail for Blankets". An entry that has captured my interest is when Jeremy the blogger, a single 30 year old male, asked his readers to answer the question: "What's so good about marriage?"
He qualified that by acknowledging 'yes, I know it's alot of hard work...assume I know that. Just tell me what's so great about being married.'

I'm probably breaking all kinds of rules by quoting some of the comments here.
But I don't know how to do links.

Ron wrote: Alright, I'll give it a shot. Being known as no one else can know me is good. No, let me rephrase, it's wonderfully terrible. I am known by my wife more fully than I would ever let anyone else know me and I have complete confidence that she still loves me and always will. There is a comfortable confidence that can only come with time and intimately shared history. And I know her like I've never known anyone. I know good things, bad things, hopes, fears, sadness, and joy; and I know I've barely scratched the surface of who she really is.

ck says: But what is so good about it? Having someone around to remind you of who you were, who you are, who you want to be. Someone to make you take yourself less seriously, or more so (though I usually need the former). Someone who will put your eye ointment in at night because you have a scratched cornea. Someone who remembers that you like Frosted Mini Wheats and gets them at the grocery store just caus. Someone who will argue back at you when you need it, but who will accept an apology kiss without words--and not ask for any. Someone who you can be naked with--physically, spiritually, emotionally--and who will respond with playfulness, with caring, with love.

Mrs. Butler writes: The WE is what's so incredibly good about marriage.
Also...the available, intimate, guilt-free, covenant building, life-restoring sex, laughter at its deepest, the mess, the kids, the total freedom of conversation, the vision shared, the opportunity to work through your shit with someone who is NOT going to leave you, long giggly kissing (yes, you can still make out when you're married) smoking a clove on your porch for anniversaries and New Year's, homecomings, breakfast together. My list is longer, my life even more amazing than this, but I am beginning to get pink in the cheeks and need a glass of cool water.

Kate, who is single comments: I have had the privelage of watching my parents marriage for a decent number of years as an adult. I love to see them flirt in the kitchen even though they have been married almost 29 years. I love to hear my dad call my mom pet names with his eyes shining. I like to see them hold hands in the car.
They pray together, minister together, belive together, fight battles together.
My grandparents also had the same type of relationship. One of my favorite childhood memories is of being at their house late at night. Their hearing aides would be out, their bedroom door open, and loud and clear I could hear them praying for all their children, all their grandchildren, people in trouble or sickness, the church, and the whole world.

Sember states: you have two sinners that are not perfect and it is hard, BUT marriage is a commitment, and THAT is why it is good. There is no hiding, or pretending. You are faced with things that you can't avoid. You learn about things deep within yourself that you never knew, and never even knew you needed to know. You see your true falleness and the true falleness of man (that person that was supposed to love you unconditionally, always caring about your lonliness, tears, emotions, likes, dislikes...and suddenly is annoyed at your tears or frustrated that you are having a bad day) and your idol of man/woman is crushed, and you then see EVER more so powerfully the deep importance of God in your life, as your everything, from father to lover. You come through on the other side raw, naked, and rung-out, and there is your spouse just as naked as you both clinging tighter to God.

Gauche posts: Marriage (which is formalized, committed monogamy) is a sacrament: that is to say, it is not something we do because it makes us happy, but because it makes us holy.

We learn things from having committed to loving a single person until we or they die that we could not learn otherwise, and the things that we learn make us better than we otherwise would be. This has nothing, really, to do with the other person, by the way, although your spouse certainly should inspire you to be a better person, and everything to do with having to compromise, to learn how to live together.
Think about the ways it will change your soul to know that:
1) You no longer have a choice: you have to make it work with this person. You can't ever walk away.
2) You have to love (and I use the term to refer to an attitude to adopt, rather than to emotion to be accepted) this man (or woman) no matter what; including their flaws and the weaknesses they will later develop, and regardless of what they do to you.
3) You don't get to control your self-image: your spouse will see you as you are and not as you present yourself to the world. If they love you despite all of this, how humbling is that!

There is, I feel, a very real sense in which marriage is a rarified version of life itself. We don't get a choice; we're born here and it's tough as hell. We have to live up to an impossible standard if we're going to hold up our end of the bargain, and we can only fool some of the people some of the time, if that. Do we live to make ourselves happy? Why should we think that we will marry for that reason?

Having said all of that, I can also say that, as a single man, I expect marriage to be quite wonderful, despite its difficulties.

Tom simply states: The best part of marriage is my wife.


He sure gets some deep comments on his blog. I love the answers he received to his query. The way people eloquently shared their passion for marriage with him was moving. Moved me to smile.

So how about you?
What's so good about marriage?

Just waiting for the ice to melt

My ex-husband's brother's ex-girlfriend's new boyfriend has a place at Kit's beach. Seeing they were going out for the evening, they let me use their parking spot.
On Saturday night.
For the fireworks finale.
How lucky am I?

I got to take these 4 human beings. AND I had a private parking spot. Life does not get better...

It did feel weird though.

For the first time in 6 years, I didn't have all of my sons along.

It was a tradition.

"Why isn't Clint coming?" Drew asked.

"He's going to watch them with his friends from camp." I replied.

"That's not right. We always go together. He's bailing on us."

My dad said he knows how I feel. "The first time we went camping without you it didn't feel right. You were 16 with a job and had to stay home and I didn't like it at all."

I guess this is just the start of 'things feeling odd'...

I know I've been waiting for him to grow up n all, but now that it's happening, I've got a few adjustments to make.

Sucks.

Three things I've got to do before I go to bed:

1. Put the meat and stuff back in the deep freeze. For some reason I decided to defrost it tonight at 10:30. It's an upright one, so the melted frost is creating a stream down the middle of my garage. All the contents are being kept cold in my coolers. Any second now it should be done...

2. Decide what I'm going to wear tomorrow. Due to bad planning, tomorrow is a "hair" day - meaning I'll have to wash it before work. I hate when I don't do it the night before. But I had a freezer to defrost...

3. Do something about this skin of mine. Nice colour. But a bit dry. And wrinkly. Kinda flakey in parts. Not so much in others. All my creams are at the cabin though. So I might have to douse myself in extra virgin olive oil.

If that sounded like a sexy come-on, it wasn't meant to. Goodness have you seen me lately? Not one blasted inch of me could be considered sexy; covered in oil or not.

Just checked. Four inches of very cold water has puddled on the bottom of the cooler. All the frost is gone. Eggsssellent.

Gotta go sop that up.

G'night...

Images of summer:

He's 11 today (August 9). Happy Birthday Sweets. Love ya.

She stayed with us last night at the cabin. Congrats on getting a job, Mandi.

YUM. Roll Kuchen and Watermelon... made with love by Mandi, Max and Drew.

He's back.

Another List:

Ten things I still want to do this summer: (tick tick tick...times running out. I feel so presured...)
1. Check out the sandcastles at Harrison
2. Hang out at White Rock for an afternoon
3. Get my boobs squished for medical reasons
4. Celebrate Drew's birthday
5. Go to Tuscany Gardens to see the Purple Cone Flowers
6. Ride the SeaBus over to Lonsdale Quay
7. Tan my inner arms
8. Pull the ball of hair out of my shower drain. Ewwwww.
9. Wash the gunk out of the window sills. Gag.
10. Get married.

Whatever.





Come on.
I was just kidding.




You don't think I have gunk in my window sills, do you?



"Blessed are those whose dreams are shaped by their hopes and not by their hurts."
Robert Schuller

He's in Birch Bay this week. I miss him...

No Boobs Allowed

My grandma used to tie a kleenex (like a diaper) on my mom's statue of David. She was offended by his errm, privates.
I was at my mom's place tonight, and in the kitchen, on the brick shelf behind the table, I saw this:

Apparently my youngest son is offended by this statue's, errhm, boobs.

(My mom overheard Drew and his cousin Chad talking. Eleven year old Chad thought the statue's state of undress was OK, because "you can see her boobs, but her nipples are covered. That's the important thing.")

OK God. If You say so...

“Dear God,
I can handle this. S’all good.
But I’m not so sure an extra two teens is going to work… girl teens at that. And, uhmmm, well You know better than me… but I’ve kinda got a feeling that they’re not ‘church-going chicks’ and whoa. Do you really think having them here is a good idea? I mean… the ratio seems lopsided; 9 kids to 1 parent. Some days I can barely deal with the daily 3 to 1 I have in a fully loaded house– and now You think we should triple that? In this heat? With no flush toilets? And all those hormones? You do remember that I’m just an overweight middle aged woman with no experience relating to 18 year old girls?
You know what’s best. If having them here is Your will, please give me the strength, patience, and wisdom to juggle it all. Amen. But if they decide not to come, that would be OK with me…Amen again.”

I was chatting with God last Thursday, trying to convince Him that my plate was quite full. All the while knowing deep down that He was going to enlarge that plate to a platter.

It all started last February when I ordered my Creation tickets online. “Dear God. I’m excited about this event. If there’s anyone that I should share my enthusiasm with, please let me not be shy. If there are families that simply need me to encourage them to go, please bring their names to my mind. And if there are any teens that You want me to personally bring along, please alert me of who they are. And God – if I don’t ask them, please let them be bold enough to ask me. Amen.”

I prayed that prayer a number of times during the following months and tried to encourage as many people as possible to consider going.

Of course, in the days immediately preceding our excursion south, I regretted my prayer. I was PMSing in a most severe way. My phone did not stop ringing with requests from women who were going to join in the fun but needed my help in transporting an assortment of their supplies. “God? Am I going to have room? Looks like I’ll be bringing an awful lot of crap…I’m gonna havta trust You on this…”

With four days left to go, I was going to take my three kids plus three extra. Which I’ve often done and it was No Big Deal.
Then Clint sent me an e-mail. “Mom. Can Nemo come along with us?”
Nemo was a guy from Stillwood. That’s all I knew.
“OK God. I’m guessing You’d like him to be there. Somehow I’ll make room. Not sure how it’s going to work, with Clint and Clark both having restricted N driver’s licenses… but I’ll leave You to figger out the carpooling details.”

At 5:30 pm, three hours before I’m scheduled to leave my driveway, one of Clint’s friends is at the door.
“Hey Mrs. O. Howzit goin?”
“Gooood…How about with you?” I ask, bewildered. I don’t know this boy very well…
“Awesome. I just got a job at the Credit Union.”
“That’s great… a big boy job, eh? What do you do there?”
“I’m a teller. I get to dress up and wear a tie every day. It’s cool”
That’ll get old quick, I think to myself.
“Is Clint around?” he asks while shuffling his feet.
“Nope. He’s at camp til 8:30 tonight. Then at 8:31 we’re going to leave for Creation.”
“Yeah… about that…” he looks at me with puppy dog eyes.
“Did you want to come too?” I ask.
“Well, not me. But my girlfriend. Could she camp with you? I can’t go. New job and all.. but she really wants to go. And I’d feel better if she was with someone, you know?”
Uh, God. You must know how spontaneous You made me. Surprises like these a mere three hours before I leave are stressful.
“Sure. She’s welcome to join us. But I’m leaving in three hours and am right out of room. Does she have a car that she can follow us in?”
“Oh yeah. That’s not a problem. I’ll get her to call you as soon as possible. Thanks so much…”

At 8:30, the convoy had started to leave my driveway and I was locking up my house as my cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
"Uhhmm. Yeah. Jane?”
“Yup.”
“This is Tina. Dave said it was OK that I camp with you?”
"Yeah. We’d love to have you along. But we are leaving right now. You’ll have to meet us at the border…”
“Oh. Can I bring a friend along?”
GOD. What are You thinking? TWO girls I don’t know? Are You sure? I’m just one woman, remember? I’m positive no other person, male or female is going to be bringing 9 kids - three of whom they’ve never met. Why me? Is it because I prayed and told You I would? OK. I’ll do this. But, Lord, You better help me out here. I am SO in over my head.
“Sure Tina, that’d be fine.”
“She has to work tomorrow, so we won’t be down til Thursday night…”

By Thursday afternoon, I was settling in with the seven kids under my guardianship. Nemo turned out to be a blessing as he had a full license and was able to drive my fully loaded Durango. Everyone was getting along and I was at peace. Hence my prayer to God to keep those girls away.

They came.
Because God wanted them there.

Clint and Claire broke up at the start of the summer. But maturely decided to both attend Creation with their moms regardless. Despite what could have been awkward socially, they both continued to hang out with their mutual friends who happened to spend most of their time tanning in my front porch area or cooling off in my wading pool.

They were both at Creation because God wanted them there.
On Saturday afternoon, with the temperatures peaking at 41 degrees, I found myself alone with the two of the girls, Lucy and Claire, who were soaking their feet in the shade of my tarp.
“Jane? Can I ask you a personal question?” Claire asks.
“Sure.” I reply, not having a clue where this is going.
“Do you ever regret having only one boyfriend? Like, you’ve only kissed one guy, right?”
Oh My Goodness. God? Hello? What is this? What am I doing here?
“Yeah, Mark was the only one I ever kissed. And no, I have no regrets.”
“But don’t you wish you had dated more guys?”
“Uh. Well. I didn’t think anyone else would ever ask me out. I had no confidence. Didn’t feel pretty… Despite the size 5 body with the 18 inch waist.”
“I’ve seen pictures… you looked OK,” she suggests.
“I know. But… I didn’t think anyone else would like me.”
“Didn’t anyone flirt with you? Didn’t you flirt?”
“I didn’t know how. Still don’t.”
The conversation meandered all over the place. Until at one point, Lucy interjected with,
“I think you’ve done an awesome job of raising your boys. They are so nice.”
“Some days they are…”
“No really. I have never been around so many great guys. All of them. Everyone here. So decent. And wow. It’s really amazing.”
“Lucy? Only three of them are mine. The other 10 that sleep and tan here have been raised by other mothers…”
“Still. I can’t believe it.”
Then she looked at me and said, “You know, I’ve never ever been to church.”
“So I’ve invited her to come to ours. Isn’t that great, Jane?” Claire says, smiling.

Yes. SO great.
“Thank you God for Claire. For her gift of friendship. Thank you that she did her part. Thank you God for Clint. For his willingness to continue to allow Claire to be apart of our lives. Thank you God for Nemo. Who made it possible for me to get all my stuff and kids down here. Thank you God for making my plate just that bit larger so that I could have extra kids here under my care.
Thank you God for Tina and her desire to bring Lucy to a very Christian event.

And thank you for Lucy. You must love her an awful lot to go to all that work and get all of us involved in bringing her to a place where she could get to know You better.


Every year, Creation is a stretch.
Every year I came home burnt like a crispy tater tot, exhausted like a woman who has had 2 all nighters in 5 days, and excited about next year like a kid waiting for Christmas.

Join us in ’06, won’t you?

Ten things I'm thankful for:
1. It's not 40 degrees outside.
2. The water in my shower has more than one temperature option.
3. My house is not on wheels.
4. Electricity.
5. I am not single parenting 9 teenagers.
6. Shade in abundance.
7. My neighbours cannot hear me snore.
8. Toilets that flush.
9. Privacy.
10. Solitude.

The ten best things about Creation:
1. The music. Especially Newsboys. INCREDIBLE show.
2. The speakers. Passionate. Eloquent. Timely. Relevant. Moving. Inspiring.
3. The atmosphere. Lively. Enthusiastic.
4. The community. Camping with friends is awesome. Sharing. Working together.
5. The conversations. Talking around the wading pool. Visiting under tarps.
6. The teens. SO many of them in our group. All beautiful. All "good".
7. The trips to the river. Cooling. Refreshing.
8. The scenery. Takes my breath away every time.
9. The facilities. Those honeybuckets got cleaned out twice daily. And our water needs were always met.
10. The worship. Oh yes. The worship. "Blessed be the name of the Lord, blessed be the name..."

Wholleee Hannnahh. THAT was fun.

To check out the complete photo album of Creationfest pics, click on over to: http://spaces.msn.com/members/poppygrad (It's the only blog I've got that has room for 150 photos...all the others are full. Yes. I'm fully aware how sad that is. Don't judge me.)