A Worthy Life

"I'm not on that level." That's the actual words that came from a dear friend's mouth when considering a young man she admires. That might be what came from her mouth, but what she was really saying is, "I'm not worthy."

When did we forget that we are children of The King? There's no one above our 'level'. If there's royalty this side of Heaven, we are it. I think what happens is we run away from home and start living like common people in this polluted world. It's a great adventure for a while, but we forget where our real home is. We don't live a life worthy of the royal family to which we belong.

This Christmas I'm coming home. I want to eat royal food worthy of the body God wants me to have. I want to love people with the heart of Christ, open and giving. I'm using words that honor the royal court in which I'm privileged to reside. I will walk like a daughter of The King, upright and careful of step.

When I hear "I'll Be Home for Christmas" let it be a reminder of where my real home is.

Traditions and aberrations

Hey Easton -- Spoiler Alert!

We got Easton a Little Tykes basketball hoop for Christmas. That's not all, but it's the gift that excites me the most. He loves to put things away and close doors and drawers. Wait til he figures out he can put the ball away over and over. Tried to convince Grandpa Jeff that we needed to assemble it last night for some quality control but he was having none of that. Jeff learned from his family the art of enhancing the joy by increasing the wait.

A friend is having a different kind of experience with her loved ones. They don't exchange gifts in their family, it detracts from the celebration of Christ's birth. There was talk of going to see a movie Christmas night as a fun family activity. That plan has been scrapped as it would distract the focus from Jesus on this special day.

We all agree that there can be way too much emphasis on the gifts and not the ultimate gift giver. But what is the limit of our devotion to Christ? Should we miss out on family holiday fun for the sake of celebration of what is, in the scheme of eternity, a man-made holiday? Just wondering.

Holiday Party -- Follow up

Here's what I ended up wearing to the holiday party. Seemed a much wiser course than the sleeveless dress. Miranda made my hair fabulous, I put on my sensible shoes and off we went. Had a wonderful time. Got to sit at a table of under-30's. They thought we were quaint and funny for old people. What more could we ask for?

Incredible Privilege

I was blessed to be asked to speak for Stonecroft Ministries. This involved me examining my life, writing my story, working with a great mentor to shape my presentation, and sharing how God has blessed me with women who came to their monthly gatherings. The preparation was incredibly beneficial. Speaking went well, I can say that because I've already been contacted by groups outside of Lincoln to see if I can come speak for them. That's definitely encouraging. How God will use me I have no idea. I'm geared up and ready.

Come to think of it, don't we all have the privilege of sharing The Gospel all the time and everywhere? Are we always geared up and ready? I know I haven't always been. That needs to be a priority in my life. I hope it will be in yours as well.

Baby It's Cold Outside

Tonight is Jeff's company Holiday Party. I used to get all worked up about these things, pondering outfits, getting my hair done. That was then, this is now. It's cold outside. Dress with hose and heels, or slacks and more sensible shoes? No question in my mind. Comfort over style. Does this mean I'm getting old?

Espresso -- All Jacked Up

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JezOtqsRr2s

Several reasons for posting this amazing video.

First of all, it's just amazing. Song is by one of my all time favorite artists: Todd Rundgren. The Leggo guy actually looks like Todd.

Second, this is for my niece Erin. The darling is stoically giving up caffeine for her unborn child. What a brave person Erin is. Yeah Erin!

I hope you'll all take a peek at this video. What fun.

Head 'em up, move 'em out

Sorted through and packed almost the entire contents of my mother's home this last week. My sister did most of the work, bless her. So many decisions to make, my decider is worn out for a while. That's most unfortunate as we need to start shopping for Christmas in earnest.

Hauled home more than I should have. Can't think of a thing I let go that I regret. It's just stuff, but stuff tied to precious memories. Found an Easter egg from who knows how many years ago. Real egg, now petrified but still a lovely shade of purple. It's in my hutch. Kelsey will be the keeper of Mr. Duck, the concrete goose my mother lovingly dressed each season. Mom valiantly attempted to keep the squirrels from stealing duck's clothing for their nests. Miranda snapped up most of the Christmas ornaments. She loves all things Christmas. Nick ended up with more practical items and he's pleased with that.

All in all it was a wonderful time together with family.

Thanksgiving

Nearly two weeks since my last blog. That's unforgiveable. Grace is one of the things I'm most grateful for this Thanksgiving, so I'm hoping there's some available here.

Not one but two festive holiday meals planned in the next 72 hours. How fantastic is that? Shows how truly blessed we are as a family and as a country. Abundance is one of the hallmarks of our lives, for better or for worse. Learning about God's abundance in my own life. His infinite capacity where I am so inadequate. His compassionate care for me even if I have trouble being compassionate

OCD Snacking

My daughter has this problem. Maybe one of you can help. She can't randomly eat colored snacks. M&M's, (why is there an apostrophe in the name?), Skittles, Reeses Pieces, anything that comes in random colors causes her problems. As I understand it she has to eat them in pairs. Whatever is left gets handed off to someone else, she can't finish them. I understand her problem but have never felt compelled to give away snacks of any kind for lack of balance. If I have snacks I eat the largest color group first. Sort of a reverse survival-of-the-fittest mentality. Mostly I eat them right out of the bag so I don't see the colors at all. This habit was developed when they introduced blue M&M's. Food should not be blue.

Thank you for all your kind wishes during my recent bout of blogstipation. Hold your hats, I think the tide has turned. Now I have a million ideas and not time to get them posted. Do blog ideas have a shelf life? Can I blog about Halloween after Thanksgiving?

Blogger log

What do you do when you're blogstipated? Nothing comes to you to write about. Oh, there are thoughts in my head but they don't seem worthy. Then reality hits that the last entry was over a week ago. Now not only have I got nothing, I'm embarrased to even show my face again. What to do, what to do?

I could write about something profound like the fact that satan is NOT the equal and opposite of God.

Maybe I could share my daughter's issue with eating snacks and how numbers and colors have to be equal or she can't eat them. But that's not my issue so really not blog stuff.

No one cares anymore that the Huskers are stinking up the place. Plenty of blogs one can go to for that continuing saga.

Guess that means I've got nothing. Is there a remedy? Kristi? Anyone?

Paula Dean's Thanksgiving

Ladies Home Journal arrived with a lovely cover photo of Paula Dean and one of those beautiful, golden brown turkeys on a platter. Inside is a several page spread of Paula's menu plan. This treat included a recipe for something interesting to do with canned jelled cranberries. I'm personally anxious to try that one! It was a nice spread: corned bread stuffing, a cola basted ham to go with the turkey, sweet potato casserole with 900+ calories per serving. Yep, good stuff all the way around. There were however, some glaring omissions. Nothing pumpkin. I can live with that. But there were no mashed potatoes! Can you imagine? No mashed potatoes. You know what that leads to: no gravy!!!

To cut Paula some slack here, there were potatoes, but they were new red potatoes and cooked with the green beans. Now Paula, that's a lovely idea, but seriously!

What I haven't told you is that Paula deep fried the turkey. While some might say that explains why she didn't make gravy, no pan drippings. Why would she make mashed potatoes if there's no gravy. DUH! You have a whole fryer full of oil! Make all that into gravy! Hello!!! Have these people never planned a meal before? That's food utopia, a deep fryer of gravy and the stuffing and mashed potatoes to absorb it all!!!

Can we work cheese into that equation? Just asking, sheesh.

Big Thoughts

Marrianne Williamson gifted the world with these words in her book, "A Return to Love."

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, “Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?” Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

R U KIDDING ME?

Like all of you I got catalogs in the mail yesterday. It's that time of year. What freaked me out was the one with the nativity scene on the front. Little children dressed in felt outfits with pretend head coverings is one thing, but an inflatable manger. No, I'm so not kidding! There was an inflatable manger holding the plastic baby Jesus. It looked like a small, brown air mattress. Ugh!

There was further tackiness in this particular catalog, but that takes the cake.

Is it Legal?

When can you turn on the heat at home? Is it a certain temperature outdoors? Is it a date on the calendar? Last week the dog and I decided it was cold in the house based on the thermostat indicating it was 60 degrees. We made the executive decision to flip that switch over to warm. I'm curious how others decide. Is there a formula? Do you consult your dog? Is there a law?

The Words We Choose

Easton, my grandson, turned 1 a month ago. He's walking like Frankenstein, absolutely adorable!

He has a limited vocabulary at this point. Limited in the sense that there are only two words that we clearly understand. He says lots of other things, but none make much sense. The two words: Woof! referring to all dogs, no-no.

Could we get by with less words in our world? He gets along just fine with those choice morsels of communication. What could it hurt? What would be your words of choice if you could only choose a few?

Weekend report -- Cheese Rules Our World

My sister and I went to Cedar Rapids, Iowa for a wonderful time away. Wish I had kept a running log of all the things we discussed. It was long and varied.

We both arrived late Friday night so settled in without much talk. Saturday morning we talked nonstop for several hours. Amazing what you don't say to people on the phone or via email. We made the 20 mile trip to Amana, Iowa where we lunched at a restaurant we had visited as children on a family vacation. I remembered a bear on the second floor of the Ox Yoke Inn that she had no recollection of. Sure enough, the bear is still there and is now on a postcard. We had a fabulous meal of fried chicken, jaeger schnitzel with spaetzle, and amazing sides.

I must comment specifically on the cottage cheese with chives. We had just come to the conclusion that, 'cheese rules our world' when we happened upon this delicacy in a dish. This was full fat cottage cheese like you don't find in the grocery store. The chives had become part of the whole thing imparting an amazing flavor.

Following the wonderful lunch we strolled shop after shop of darling gifts and treasures. We made a few choice selections and headed back to Cedar Rapids.

The Husker game Saturday night shall go unmentioned here, along with the restaurant I selected for dinner. Really, both were quite unmentionable.

Sunday we ate a burger at the Texas Road House and went our separate ways.

We talked through ideas for my upcoming presentation, reminisced and shared, talked about mom's impending move to a retirement apartment and what should happen to 40+ years of accumulated stuff. It was a marvelous weekend. Can't wait to do it again!

Running away from home

I have dreamed of this day for a very long time. I am running away from home for the weekend with my bestest girl friend. We are meeting in a town neither of us have been to, halfway between our houses. We will explore, stay up late, watch the Huskers, whatever we want to do without having to please anyone but ourselves. I can't wait!!!

R U Kidding ME?

Do you watch Top Chef? If you didn't see the finale last night then this is a spoiler alert.

Hung is the Top Chef! Are you kidding me? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!!!

Speaking of ridiculous, I'm confessing right now that I watched 5 minutes of Cavemen on Tuesday night. It was the biggest waste of my time in recent memory. An absolutely terrible show. I can't believe someone wrote the script and actually spent the money to produce it. Good thing the actors wear serious amounts of make-up, otherwise they would never be able to show their faces again. Yes, it's that bad.

Something occurred to me this morning. For those of you who know me well, anything that happens in the morning is fraught with potential danger.

My hair is cut just like Diane Sawyer! Isn't that the coolest thing?

My question is why my hair never looks like hers. Any ideas?

Since I was 5

I was 5 years old when I modeled a faux leather mini-skirt for what was then called Christian Women's Club. Ever since then I've thought it would be the coolest thing to speak for one of their meetings. I was on the board of the evening club in Lincoln for several years, but never said anything to anyone.

This spring one of the driving forces for what is now called Stonecroft Ministries went home to be with Jesus. At the marvelous celebration of her life I was reminded again what a privilege it would be to speak for a meeting. Within a week I ran into a lovely lady named Jerilyn. She has also been a part of this group for years. I mentioned to her that I had considered speaking and she said, "I think you'd be great! Let's plan on it."

Next thing I know I'm scheduled to present at their December meetings, usually their highest attended meeting of the year. Not just for the evening group I was familiar with, but for 4 groups in Lincoln and 1 in a neighboring city.

Here's my schedule: October, finish writing. I will speak for about 20 minutes. That's not a long time. Needs to be engaging and have a clear Gospel presentation. November I practice, practice, practice. December I speak on the 3, 4, 5 and 11th. What I'd appreciate from you, my dear blog friends, is your support in prayer.

"Pray for me, too. Ask God to give me the right words so I can boldly explain God's mysterious plan that the Good News is for Jews and Gentiles alike." Ephesians 6:19

How'd that happen?

I was talking with Miranda (our middle daughter, Easton's mom) on the phone when a little voice in the background grew louder and more insistent, about what it's hard to say. When you're only 1 you don't have a lot of words to choose from. Finally she handed Easton the phone. He said, "Hi!" like he'd been saying it all his life. It was so funny and startled his mother so much that she clapped. This scared poor baby Easton and he cried. That was the end of our conversation. But it was a good one!

Cheeseheads and Huskers

My darling sister Kathleen decided that Easton needed a Packers outfit for his first birthday. He liked it very much and is anxious to wear it. This will be his 3rd or 4th team outfit. I'm concerned that we're confusing the poor child.

He was born on a Husker game day, first game of the season in 2006. He has several Huskers uniforms, a Cubs outfit, Rockies, and now Cheeseheads. Where will his loyalties lie? Can we really determine these things for him? Is this like trying to pick a spouse for your child? What's a grandmother to do?

Terrifying Truth

"All of these songs are about a paucity of truth. At first they may seem to be about other things, but that is just a reflection of how much dishonesty we have accepted in our daily lives. We are raised from birth to believe things that cannot be proven or that are plainly not true. People will often brag of their honesty, when there is so much they have simply chosen to ignore or leave unexamined.

"The fact is, we are terrified of the truth."

Liner notes from Todd Rundgren's album LIARS

Anxious to hear your responses.

Necessities of Life

Purses and cell phones. Should be able to test these necessities for a few days before making a commitment. After all with the price of phones and some purses, your are practically making life commitment, or at least 2 years depending on your cellular service agreement.

Soooooo cute!

It was our privilege to host our grandson Easton overnight on his first birthday. He keeps us busy and laughing all the time. His greatgrandma Jean got him a walk behind toy that he likes very much. It goes a little fast sometimes and he ends up face planted on the floor, but he's getting the hang of it. He can steer it well enough to run over whichever dog is in his way, so that's always fun.

Today, Easton decided he was going to contribute to the work of the house by letting the dogs outside. He crawled to where the leashes are kept, handed them to grandpa Jeff, and then tried to help put them on the dogs. He then tried to help open the door and waited patiently while the dogs went outside. It was amazing! No doubt he watches everything we do, and he clearly knew what he was trying to accomplish. So precious.

I Saw the Light

I can check one thing off my life list of To-do. I saw Todd Rundgren in concert at the Nebraska State Fair. There's no way to capture the experience, no way to even remember most of it, but I shall do my best to try.

Jeff and I went to the fair about 3. Weekday afternoons are perfect for quiet wandering, not much crowd. We saw quilts, and dresses, tomatoes and beer. All produced by the good people of Nebraska. Jeff would like to be a judge in the pastry competition next year. We'll have to work on that. The photography exhibition was inspiring. We watched children play with baby goats, and the baby goats play bumper cars with each other. We laughed at a goofy clown on a diving board. He wasn't diving into water at all, he had a trampoline! We walked the midway, just for the fun of it. Saw a great exhibition of all the food products developed in Nebraska, and an industrious colony of bees doing their best to contribute.

Then the event really began. I joined the line of early groupies at 5, Jeff went to take in more sites. Only a few of us took up positions to make sure we had the perfect place in the open air hall. Not that there's a bad spot, it only seats 6000. The sound check nearly brought tears to my eyes. There he was, singing "Let's Go" and I was hearing him live. Others yelled for his attention from beyond our chain link prison, I just stood in awe.

After the sound check some people wandered away. Others of us were left to visit with each other and talk with the young man at the gate. He has obviously had some experience with chemicals in his life, they were not kind to him. But he was pleasant enough, as were the others in our gang of instant friends. "Are you a Todd fan or a Cars fan?" Most of us were able to choose one or the other, but no one was disappointed these elements would be sharing the stage.

Our friends Kim and Anita joined us after 5. Kim had scored a VIP pass. That entitled him to dinner and a meet-and-greet with the band. Jeff and Anita went in search of food and beverage. I stayed in line. Something about being there in anticipation of the concert to come kept me riveted to my spot.

At 6 the plastic strip barrier with the diamond shaped flags came down with an admonition from the gate staff to please walk. Okay, whatever. Like any of us were the type to sprint. We had just been swapping grandkid pictures, we weren't running anywhere. I walked down the aisle from the back of the house, my hand like a divining rod held out over the wooden bleachers sensing for just the right spot. Jeff and Anita joined me and the one hour wait to concert time began. We chatted with the folks around us, shared our reviews of the t-shirt selection available, and swapped concert stories.

Meanwhile Kim was off meeting the band. It was a line of folks paraded past the band like they were royals. A quick hand shake, one group photo -- no private cameras allowed -- and they were out the door. Kim was able to yell, "Hey Todd, when's the next album coming out?" Todd yelled back, "This spring, and I like your t-shirt!" It was The Who concert shirt from a few years back. Good choice Kim.

This is where words will fail me. Live music is better than recorded, like books are almost always better than movies. Even with the difficult acoustics in the barn of a building, and the mix that took some time to get just right, there was not a disappointing moment in the hour-and-a-half concert. "Drive" the Cars classic that asks the question, "Who's gonna drive you home tonight?" was the musical non-Todd moment of the night for me.

"It was late last night,
I was feeling something wasn't right,
There was not another soul in sight, Only you, only you.
So we walked along, though I knew that there was something wrong,
And a feeling hit me oh so strong about you,
Then you gazed up at me and the answer was plain to see,
Cause I saw the light in your eyes."

Song by Todd Rundgren, written in 1972 for the album "Something/Anything?" and performed wonderfully last night in Lincoln, Nebraska. Isn't that the way we know the truth about anyone in our life? Don't you have to get close enough to look into their eyes? I was pretty close to Todd last night, close enough to have taken the amazing picture here, though that credit goes to Kim. Still not close enough to see the light in Todd's eyes, but he has touched me musically for many years and last night's encounter was an amazing treat. Todd is an incredible musician, talent that rivals many in the rock world. He's in his mid 50's and yet his passion is raw and vibrant in concert. The music pours from him like sweat on a hot August night in Nebraska.

Note to my beloved niece Erin: I did not throw panties, nor did I have the opportunity to talk to Todd. Had I been given that privilege I would have asked him how his trip was and if he was enjoying his visit to Nebraska. Would that have been okay?

Food on a Stick

I wasn't even hungry when we got to the State Fair. We had eaten a great lunch with friends so fair food wasn't even interesting. Jeff tempted me with funnel cakes, pointed out lemonade at every turn, but I just didn't care.

I think frozen things on a stick make sense. Corn dogs are fine. Isn't steak on a stick called a kabob? I don't understand pizza on a stick. Can't you just pick it up and eat it? But I did my duty as a fair attendee. I ate a smoked turkey drumstick. It's fair food, it has a stick. It just came pre-sticked.

Does that sound stupid to you?

Article about parents who oppose diapers, toilet training their children from birth. Perfect application: Does that sound stupid to you?

Tonight's the Night!!!

My very first blog was about a concert by a very special musician. I've waited and waited for this day and it's finally arrived. Tonight we see Todd Rundgren in concert. Yes, he's an aging rocker, but I'm an aging rock fan so it works. Pictures tomorrow. EEEEEEEEEE (that's me squealing with excitement).

If I should happen to run into him I even have a plan for what I'm going to say. We'll see if it happens and what actually comes out of my mouth if it does.

What you see is what you get

I told my sister Kathleen she couldn't wear the black Eddie Bauer sweater to her class reunion, it didn't hit her right. I was looking for just such a top to wear for family portraits for my inlaws 50th. Being the wonderful person she is she gave me the sweater. It was just the sleeve length and collar I was hoping to find.

Turns out it didn't hit me right either. That's the second thing I notice in looking at the proofs, the first thing I see are my goofy looking bangs. Why am I ever allowed to go out in public after doing my own hair, let alone have family pictures taken? What is the world coming to?

No one else seems to notice my hair or the length of the sweater in the proofs. Maybe I should quit worrying about it. Nahhhhh

My phone is back

It happened like this. I got on the phone with my cell service provider to discuss when they might allow me to purchase a new phone and not violate my contract and be subject to millions of dollars in penalties. I was advised that September 3 was their generous offer to me, since I wasn't actually eligible until December 3.

Guess my phone overheard the conversation because the very next morning, after charging for days on end, my phone came back to life. Miracle might be too strong of a word, but I was excited. So excited in fact that I sent my sister Kathleen a text before 7 in the morning. I don't recommend this but she understood my overwhelming joy.

My phone acts a little funky sometimes, and tires easily. But it keeps me in touch with all my favorite people, what more could I ask?

There you have it. Now that I've begun dreaming of new phones, my old one is back to life. What to do, what to do...

How could this happen?

I used to laugh at people whose cell phones ended up in water. How could that happen? Much to my chagrine, now I know the answer. I compulsively carry my phone. It's on my desk at work, in my pocket most other times, and it's on my night stand at night. It was the pocket thing that got to me. Yep, you guessed it, the toilet. I reached in and grabbed it, rinsed it off, and quickly took it apart. I dried and dried with a towel, and then the trouble began. Instead of going directly to the Internet for help from my fellow cell phone damagers, I compulsively tried to reinsert the battery and make it work, hoping against hope that it would come to life in my hand. There were flutters of life in those big blue eyes, little flashes of joy, and then nothing. For a few moments the phone rang and rang, sending out its own death knell.

After reading all sorts of advice, deionized water to alcohol, drying in the dryer, cool air over night, I finally took my phone apart and placed it on an AC vent. This morning, my hands trembling with anticipation, I put it back together and got nothing. I'm having a little trouble coping, but I'll get by.

Big issue -- and a haiku

Racism exists
as evidence of evil
in the world today

Every one of us evidences prejudice. There is no denying that. The word simply means that we have prejudged a situation. What's evil is when we prejudge a situation based on the skin color of the person involved.

I'm tired of the excuses: "I've never been around a black," "I don't really know how to talk to an Asian," "I'm just not comfortable." Well guess what, there are people in the world that are uncomfortable around you!

Even more insidious is when we make excuses for other people: "That's just their generation," "There weren't any minorities in their town when they were growing up," "Their friends wouldn't understand." What's to understand?

By not confronting racism are we part of the problem? This issue has become all too real in my life. Wrestling with my response.

My favorite things

Travelling for work can be tedious, but it also has some nice benefits, like staying in great hotels. Beautiful, old hotel in Charleston had a credenza at the foot of the bed, out of which popped a television. That was cool. Then there was the place in Whistler, British Columbia with the amazing view of a mountain out the window of my room. Santa Fe has a hotel with really old woodwork that felt comforting and homey. But the way to really capture my heart is to have an amazing bathtub.

I'm a shower girl for the most part. We've been in our house 9 years and I've taken exactly 2 baths. There are times when a tub just calls to you. One of those was in Lake Tahoe at Caesar's Palace. The hottub was nearly as big as the bed, which was in the same room. I filled that bad boy to the brim, which took quite a while, added bubbles, and then turned on the jets, ever so slightly. It was amazing. Definitely too big for one, but that's the drawback of travelling alone. The other drawback was the sound of bubbles popping, and popping, and popping while I was trying to go to sleep.

My brother-in-law's house has a great tub. It's your standard inhouse bubble tub, but there's a fire place involved. That room was so toasty warm it soaked right into my bones. Yum.

My all time favorite is the hotel at the Vancouver Airport. It's been my privilege to stay there twice, and I'd love to go again. Something about marble walls surrounding a nicely proportioned tub from which you can see the television, control the lights in the room, and have the world's most amazing towels and robe available, well it's a winner with me.

If I ever build a house I might try to recreate that one. Except I'd have to clean it. Might lose some of it's appeal...

Drive-thru Nerding

My boss needed 5 minutes out of the office so I agreed to ride along while she picked up lunch. She headed straight to my favorite Chinese restaurant so I had to get a little something. I decided on wings, you know the ones that come as a dinner with rice and that yummy sauce.

We place our order and wait at the drive-up window. One bag and a beverage arrive and we wait for the next one, which never comes. He finally noticed us and went to get another guy, who speaks English to ask us what we were waiting for. I explained that we only got one bag, only one styrofoam box. He said that was all we ordered. Shrimp with Lobster Sauce and wings.

I opened the bag to find the Shrimp, just as expected, and this pathetic little bag of fried chicken wings. He insisted that's we had ordered. Okay, whatever.

Karen and I totally got the giggles at this point. Lesson learned: it's called Braised Chicken Wings, not fried. That sounds better anyway.

Who?

I called my sister-in-law yesterday to talk about plans for the upcoming week. My 5 year old nephew answered. He doesn't talk on the phone much so I introduced myself as 'Aunt Kris from Lincoln.' He seemed satisfied and went on to share what he'd had for breakfast, plans for the afternoon, and that they were going to watch a professional soccer match that night. After he ran out of things to share I asked if I could speak to his mom. He laid down the phone and yelled, "Hey Mom, it's Abraham Lincoln on the phone."

Maybe we should get togther with them more often.

All settled in

The move went fine. Princess called Saturday afternoon to inquire where one might get hot water from, the gas company or the electric company. That all depends, I informed her. Seems they weren't informed to call the gas company so didn't have service, therefore, no hot water. Guess that will keep 3 girls moving quickly through the one bathroom! All else seems good in Kearney. Football started today so she's already busy in the training room.

Good idea? not so much

Our youngest is packing up the SUV and heading back to college tomorrow. Yes, it's early. She is an athletic trainer so has to be there when fall sports start.

She's also a planner, to the nth degree. She's been carrying a day-timer since 8th grade. When she began making the lists and checking them twice for this move, she made arrangements with her boyfriend to share a trailer. They would split the cost of the U-Haul trailer and move on the same day. Her stuff would go in first, his second so that his could be unloaded first. It's a well thought plan except for one thing. They're just irritating the stuffing out of each other.

About two weeks ago I suggested that she let him make his own arrangements and she could share transportation with her roomie. After all they're moving to the same location. That notion was soundly rejected. She informed me that she'd already made a commitment. Well okay then. When things go badly don't be surprised. I know I won't.

The Name Game

At a baby shower when the discussion came up about what the grandparents would be called. There are so many options in the world. I like the notion of letting the child work out a moniker on their own, but that can be perilous. A friend shared that she was 'guh' for a long time after having worked so hard to encourage 'grandma'. My girls decided I should be 'grammy' to Easton. I quickly informed them I would prefer to be 'G-ma' which they found only slightly amusing.

Jeff and I are just not 'Nana' and 'Popo' kind of people. Easton is fortunate to have not only 3 sets of grandparents, but multiple sets of great-grandparents. How the poor little thing will sort all this out is anyone's guess.

I'm just going on record as saying that 'grammy' is not it!

The Test

Most everything in life should be measured by this simple query: "Does that sound stupid to you?"

When someone's life has gone awry and they give you their rationale you should be allowed to look at them and ask: "Does that sound stupid to you?" Nothing else really needs to be said. Think about it, this could work.

Unfortunately polite society doesn't allow that much reality. Pity.

Is it required?

Will Drew Carey have to be neutered before he can become the host of The Price Is Right?

I Messed Up

My friend Ashley came to stay with us this weekend. Our relationship is sort of an informal Big Sister's type thing. This all begain several years ago when her mother and I worked together, and like most single moms she needed a break every once in a while. At the time Ashley was in kindergarden, having a hard time getting along in school. She's grown up a lot since then. She'll be in 5th grade this year and is 'graduating' from the behavioral skills program, she will proudly tell you.

For whatever reason God has blessed me with a special measure of grace where Ashley's concerned. She can play the same tune on my piano hundreds of times, and it doesn't bother me in the least. She can ask me dozens of questions about nothing and everything, I answer her as best I can, and wait almost anxiously for the next one. I don't remember having near as much patience with my own children.

What I learned from Ashley this weekend was something special. Her sister came with her this time. We played cards, walked the dog, and eventually I taught them to play Snood, one of those really addictive computer games. They were sharing the computer amazingly well, taking turns and sharing the fun. This went on for a while until eventually Ashley wanted to take another turn before she relinquished control of the mouse. Her reason? "I messed up."

In her mind that was a perfectly logical reason as to why she should be given another chance. She knew she had misfired one shot and wanted to do it better the next time.

Because of Jesus we get to do that all the time. We get chance after chance after chance to keep taking our turn because we mess up. What an amazing gift.

Mantra for the Day

Billions of people, every day, all over the world, get along fine without my involvement in their lives.

What's real

Here is what's real: Being a life partner with the same person for 25+ years. Worrying about the children and the grandchildren, praying for them together. Wondering where the money will come from, but knowing it will be there. Waiting for the phone to ring that something is wrong with a parent. Walking because I need to, not because he does. Having the same friends.

There are opportunities in life for more flash and excitement. Chances to screw up what's really good for something that only looks good. Always choose the best things over the good things. I'm glad I have.

Just a Twinge

I'm not a tree hugger, but I have friends who are and I respect them for their commitment. I felt a special kinship Saturday morning as I was discarding bags from the dry cleaners from my closet. What a waste! Do the clothes even need to ride in a bag? Do they really each need a separate bag? I think not.

Next time I get something cleaned I'm going to ask if there's an eco-friendly program available. Think they'll laugh? If they do I just might have to find another dry cleaners.

Totally worth it!

Sitting at my desk Friday afternoon I got a wild hair, I suddenly wanted to make spaghetti sauce from scratch. With a few clicks of my keyboard there was a veritable plethora of recipe options before my eyes.

This was the final choice, Anthony's Pasta Sauce, Meatballs and Braciole. http://www.spaghettisauceandmeatballs.com/ What's funny is the Braciole (little steak rolls) is optional, but the pork chops and Italian sausage not included in the title are required, according to the author. When the "printer friendly" version printed out 9 pages that should have been a clue. But no, I was excited by the adventure. It took probably 4 readings to get a complete ingredient list compiled, and I wasn't even making the Braciole. Two trips to the store, piles of chopped parsley, and 4 hours of my life later my kitchen smelled like every Italian wedding reception I'd ever been to. Marvelous! We served 9 adults and still had more than half the sauce left. Proof of the goodness that resulted from the effort was my mother coming over the next morning, bowl in hand, asking, "Please, may I have some more sauce?"

If you choose not to take on this project at least read the recipe. It's seriously funny.

Question of the day

"Our biggest problems are double standards. How do you get over that?"

This question was asked by a dear friend in regard to marriage. How do you deal with the give-take balance. My suggestion, from my 25-year vantage point, was that there are times you feel like you give and give and give and get nothing in return. Your spouse feels the same. Just keep giving and don't keep score. Eventually the other person will want to give back and you'll reach that equilibrium that makes it all worthwhile.

Take me seriously?

Take me seriously? You must be kidding. I can't even spell properly! I've been blogging for months now and just learned that I don't have the link to my blog spelled correctly. It's a wonder anyone has found me.

Thought I'd be the One

When we learned that we were to be grandparents the fantasies began. Besides the baby's parents I thought I'd be the favorite person in the world. I'd do the cuddling at our house and hand out the cookies. But no, it was not to be. Grandpa Jeff is preferred by Easton over all others. Sad for me. But, how can I be jealous when I see the amazing bond between the two of them? They speak a language known only to them. It's like this secret club that only boys can join. At this point they're being very selective with admission of new members. I'm on the waiting list...

Maybe the next one, if there is a next one, will like me best. I can hope, can't I?

Amazing Women

What an interesting evening. Was invited to a friend's house to snack and drink wine with women I didn't know. We ranged in age from 30-60, married, single, divorced, liberal, conservative, agnostic, fundie, we were all over the board. The common theme was that we each knew the hostess. What a wonderful time we had sharing stories of love and loss, sex toy parties experiences, and upcoming adventures. One of the highlights of the evening was the bottle of port infused with chocolate. Truly amazing. The best part of the night, however, was when someone actually acknowledged how unlikely it was that we would all come together and be so open to share and not judge, and how much we liked each other and want to be together again.

We have to get together in August before Colleen leaves for her year-long writing fellowship at the University of Michigan and a trip to Turkey. We need one more night before Sarah's wedding in September.

Who knows if we'll ever be in one place again. But if we aren't that's okay, we had tonight and it was wonderful.

Ever Vigilant

This is a true story, every word. Who could make this stuff up?

We're out to dinner with Tosca, our writer friend, and I didn't want to miss a moment of precious time with her. So I waited to use the bathroom until we got to Target, yes the very Target at which I used to work.

I select the first stall, not my favorite, but it was kind of urgent at this point. (Don't you have a favorite stall at the places you frequent most often? It really is just me?) Come to the end of my business when I notice there's no paper. Really, no paper at all. No little scraps stuck to the roll, nothing.

Take a breath, be calm, something will come to you. You'd be surprised what comes to your mind at that point. In my purse is not a scrap of tissue, maybe a reciept or two, but seriously now. There's someone moving about in another stall, but by the time I make a decision she's on her way out the door. Aha! There's my cell phone and the number to the store is in my directory. That could work, I could call the operator, ask for the Guest Service Team Lead and then explain my predicament. Josh the manager is cool enough and all, but no. So I wait.

Someone in a red shirt and khaki's, the standard Target ensemble, flits past the door to my stall. "Jen?" No response.

"Jen Crowther is that you?"

"No."

"You don't know me, but this is Kristin, I used to work here. There's no toilet paper in this stall."

Silence.

Finally she asked if she could bring me some. Oh, I was so relieved. Only a moment of awkward as we washed our hands at the same time.

We shopped and as we got in the car Jeff wanted to know what happened that took me so long in the bathroom. He said an elderly couple came and went since I had gone in and he wondered what happened in there. I told him the story and he was incredulous, "You mean you don't check before you go in?"

"No, I trust Target, they check the bathroom every hour."

He just laughed, that knowing chuckle a mockery to my naivety. He freely admitted to checking the stall at work and if there isn't paper he goes to another bathroom. Isn't that yours to deal with if you find it? "Oh no," he said, "you have to go tell Betty and that would just be weird. It'd be like talking to your Mom about using the bathroom." Isn't that better than the hot young chicks you work with? He said he just doesn't talk to anyone about missing paper, he just keeps moving on.

So, there you have it. All the problems in the world come down to one man.

Independence Day

Our city was nuts with fireworks this year. For two solid nights you could barely breath for the sulphur in the air. What's funny is that anything that lifts off the ground or reports is illegal in Lincoln.

Here's my gripe, ready? We are not celebrating the 4th of July. We are celebrating our independence from oppression. Try to remember to offer a hearty, "Happy Independence Day!"

Smack On the Bottom

Easton, our beloved and adorable grandson, has discovered the refigerator. We have the kind with the freezer on the bottom. He's just the right height to 'help' get out ice cubes and then play in them for as long as we'll let him. Combine that with a dog who loves ice cubes and it's difficult to find the fish sticks with so much help! I'll try to get a picture to share. Truly adorable.

Thanks to Kristi for helping me think of something to write about. You're right, lettuce doesn't mold. Glad that's settled.

Overkill!!!

Writers are story tellers in our hearts. We can't wait for something interesting to happen in our lives so we can process it for a few minutes, days, weeks, and then share it with someone else.

Story telling is an ancient tradition that has transformed cultures. Unfortunately we no longer sit around a communal fire each night to cook our meals. We don't gather at the town well to draw water and share stories. In my circle we don't quilt, or raise barns, or even have a large family gathering as often as I would like.

Thus we are relegated to electronic communication. The problem is the loss of inflection. We can't twist the words ever so slightly to imply sarcasm, or indicate our enthusiasm for the climax of the tale by increasing the tempo. We are left with italics, bold-face type, and exclamation points. All sad imitations of the great art of the story told live.

This communicative style has crept into my work place. I had an IM conversation with a coworker with whom I was having a disagreement. This discourse was so distressing that I printed it to save, to show others what a jerk he had been and how righteous I was in not stooping to his level. The third party I handed it to for review looked at me in all seriousness and said, "Don't ever have a conversation like that again over IM." Why not, I wanted to know. He pointed out that because of the way I've learned to talk to people via IM doesn't leave me smelling like a rose in this situation. Sure enough, there were exclamation points all over the place!

He also reminded me, that just like I had done, the other party probably printed and saved the conversation. That's not a good thing.

Once a Day

My darling husband Jeff says one funny thing per day. It's not like he plans it, life just happens that way.

Saturday we were camped out in lawn chairs on the main street of town watching classic and hot rod cars cruise by. Americruise comes to Lincoln every June and it's a blast. A 1930s Chrysler painted a lovely cameo pink rolls by. Jeff says, "Oh look, the first Mary Kay car."

He's too cute.

New Boss starts Monday

We still call it Diane's office, will be that to us for a while, even after Kendra moves in. After our amazing director left us in early June we all thought it would be September or October before she was replaced. That's how things move in university time.

Lo and behold, there was someone available who could start July 1. Amazing! The search process requirement was waived. The interview process condensed to one day. We gave our feedback. It wasn't glowing. We all like her and think she'll be a good fit here. She's a woman of integrity and has great experiences, they just have nothing to do with what it is we do here.

Not sure who to feel most sorry for, those of us who miss Diane, or Kendra who has no idea what she's getting into.

the breakup, follow-up

Her husband called my husband to talk. The guys were almost as close as we were. He wasn't upset, just wanted my husband to know that she had cried all night. She understood that the friendship was ending. So not what I intended. This isn't over. Still lots of praying, and hopefully lots of sharing to be done.

The Road Not Taken

I Googled an old boyfriend. What an interesting experience. He was an interesting experience! We met just as he was ending his foreign exchange year here in the states. He is from Oslo Norway. We swapped letters and dreamed of meeting again. But like all high school summer romances, except in Grease, it ended.

Stig is his name. He was part of the Norwegian Olympic cross country ski team. Oh yes, the legs were amazing. I knew his dad was a doctor and he was planning to go to med school.

Google was kind, the list was long. Seems he's not only a doctor, but the Orthopedic Surgeon for the Norwegian Olympic team and an internationally published researcher. I could have lived my life in Norway the wife of a minor celebrity. Oh well...

the breakup

She was waiting in the booth when I got there like so many times before. I even knew what she'd order. Only this wasn't just like every other time, one of us was holding back. We swapped our kid stories, kids whose lives were maybe more entwined than our own. We gave updates about our widowed moms. The fries 'extra crispy' came and I watched as the ketchup flowed onto the plate and the salt sprinkle melted into the puddle of red. I couldn't eat. Wasn't hungry. That had never stopped me before, but tonight I just wasn't interested in food. I wanted this meeting to end, had wanted it to end from the moment the date was made.

Here's why you're not hearing from me: and then I faltered, I struggled, I even pointed out how hard it was to get the words out of my mouth. No, you haven't offended me, per se. No, you haven't done or said anything that's made me mad, not really. You just don't enhance my life, but that's not as selfish as it might sound. Wait! That's not what I mean.

Then it happened. She quit listening. Just stopped. The eyes averted. The reach for the check and the purse. She was done. I asked if we couldn't dialogue. She said she wouldn't be calling any more. She had appreciated my friendship and support in the past and would be sad to not have that any more. She also didn't understand how she could 'fix' things if no one would tell her what was wrong. I asked if she could take a step back and look at her life from another perspective and see what advise she would give herself. I said I wasn't willing to laundry list the issues, that's not what adults do to each other. But she was gone, not physically, but gone.

We walked to our cars separately.

What shall we call you?

Blogging is really just an expression of our living in hope that we will be published some day. After the contract negotiations and editorial wrangling there's that one nagging question, "What shall we call you?"

My uncle, who was to be a famous musician, always wanted to be called Pierre Shastikovich. When I play lazer tag I'm known as Xena, Princess Warrior. But were I to be published in print that would open a whole other realm.

Perhaps I would choose just one name like Madonna, or the symbol formerly known as Prince. Cher almost had a commanding sound to it.

Or I could use my first and middle names as if they were all I had: Kristin Leigh. Then there's the possibility of a derivation of my husband's first name and I would be Kris Jefferson. My maiden name would provide a modicum of recognition in the world for anyone who knew me more than 25 years ago, but Kris Surface just doesn't ring for me any more.

I guess this question will have to remain unanswered for the time being.

Sleep disorder

Ever really look at your pillows? I did when I changed the sheets this weekend. They're really kind of sorry looking. Why don't I just buy new ones? They aren't that expensive. Maybe that answers the birthday question.

Speaking of pillows... Jeff and I have developed a new system of space allocation. It's working great, I highly recommend it. We have a "barrier pillow" that takes up the space between us. No, it's not a signal for no access. It's more of a speed bump to keep us from taking up each other's space. Just turn one pillow sideways between you. It's a good thing.

New trend in home building, master suite with separate sleeping rooms. That could work too! More expensive than a barrier pillow, but the idea has merit.

Money for nothing

My birthday is stressing me out, and it's not for almost a week.

What do I do with the birthday money I know I'll be getting from my Mom and my inlaws? Jeff's birthday money funded our trip to Colorado, which we shared. I need something to wear to my inlaws 50th in August. There are so many cute dresses out this year, just check out Erin's blog! Would love to get something decadent like tanning minutes. There's this divine chair at Target, yes Target, that would look smashing in our office. I'll only have my Target discount two more weeks, so maybe that's a good choice. We could share the furniture and then I wouldn't feel so guilty about Jeff not getting anything for his birthday.

What to do, what to do?

Life Partner

Following are 5 criteria for the selection of a life partner. I wrote these for my daughter. Hope they're useful to you.

#1. Shared values
#2. Do you fit in their family and do they fit in yours
#3. Can you see this person as the parent of your children
#4. Are you proud of their behavior at all times
#5. Do they challenge you intellectually

UtiliKilt

Yessiree Bob, you read that right. UtilaKilt. First one I've ever seen up close and personal.

We noticed him right away as he strode onto the green. He, along with several thousand others, brought their chairs, blankets, and multicourse meals to enjoy an evening of jazz outside the campus art museum. He was noticeable not just for his fabulous main of hair, or the distinctive way he commanded the space around him, but for his ensemble. He was wearing an open neck white linen shirt, a leather thong necklace with a crystal pendant, and a kilt.

Not your average kilt, but one that looked like it could have been made by Carhart for wear on the job. It had pleats in all the right places which made it hang just right. The rows of utility pockets were a complete mystery. We knew right away he was not a Target shopper! But where would one find such a thing?

The answer came as he stepped to the table to have the artist sign his CD. His name is Randolph. Just when I was conjuring up a question in my head about where he might find such apparel, there it was - the tag, stitched into the side seam. UtiliKilt.

If anyone could wear a UtiliKilt it's a guy named Randolph.

The RUSH of Adrenaline

I used to love the rush of adrenaline. That 'zing' you get by just sneaking in under a deadline. That creative surge that happens when you're not sure you're going to make it, but the ideas are fairly leaping from your head, each one seeming better than the previous.

Not so any longer. I still wait, I still put off whatever I can. Not because I want to, but because it's become a pesky habit. Now that rush that used to give me added spark leaves me with a nasty hang over and a load of self-doubt.

Oh the joys of having burnt out my entire central nervous system leaving nothing but a few arcs of excitement and an occasional spark of glory.

Communing with other beings. Does it happen? Are there angels and demons all around us?

Reading an amazing novel, "Demon: a Memoir" referenced at the bottom of this page. The short story is that a book editor is approached by a demon who asks that his memoirs be published. The writer makes it seem that most of us are aware of the presence of spirit-beings around us all the time. She also makes the point that when most people think they've had contact with an angel, it's actually a demon posing as an angel.

I encourage you to get a copy and read it. Meditate on it. Look at the scripture references in the back and find some friends with whom you can chew on the study questions over some yummy food. This book is worth your time, it will change your life.

It happened one night

My Dad's been gone nearly 3 years already. Sometimes it seems like yesterday and yet my life has changed so much.

"Dad, I got the promotion you helped me prep for the interview for..." he's not there.
"Dad, they named him Easton James. Yes, just like the baseball equipment manufacturer."
"I love you Dad."

I was doing so well. Getting by fine. Went with Mom to select flowers and place them on his grave where I carefully cleared the grass clippings from around the marker which finally bares the date of his passing. I was fine, it was fact.

It happened one night. I went to the Hallmark store. There before me was the massive display of Father's Day cards. I was told this would happen. I thought I was past it. But I'm not. I miss my Dad.

30 years or 30 days

He's nearly 21. She's the 50-year old mother of one of his friends, a girl. She intimates to her daughter that of all her friends, he's the one she'd most like to get to know. . . (No, her name's not Mrs. Robinson). Of course the daughter tells him.

One night late the conversation evolves to sharing stories, the kind of which only come out after midnight. The two of them end up alone, and they talk. Would she really? No, she thinks not. She's so much older than he, and that's only the beginning of the list of why not.

"What's 30 years? It might as well be 30 days, it's only time."

Nearly 10 years later he still thinks about her and he wonders. Words tumbled out of his mouth at the time, confident and brash in their naivete. Was it a great line?

He asks those of us who find him adorable, how we would respond. . . we melt. That's all, we simply melt.

Wacky, wacky wedding

First of all, the bridesmaid's dresses were hideous. Absolutely hideous. Don't know what else I could say on that subject. (Who among us couldn't write a little something on this subject?) They didn't fit anyone well and were really poorly made. The most unfortunate thing is that my daughter had to wear one. Thankfully her mother-in-law was able to tack in some fabric here and there to make it a little less/more "bearable."

They wedding party gathered in a lovely garden for not one, not two, but three full hours of photographs prior to the wedding ceremony. The exciting part of that was the mentally disturbed woman who ventured along and wanted to be a part of things. The police were called, she responded to their questions in a variety of languages. She told them everything but her name. That was one 'guest' that didn't make it to the reception.

The cake fell over. Yep, you heard me right, the cake fell over. Lost the top two tiers to the floor before most of the guests arrived.

Speaking of guests, and this is where it gets interesting; there was a segmented guest list. Some were invited to the small wedding ceremony, some for dinner, and some for dancing and cake. Unfortunately the invitation didn't indicate into which category we fell. We skipped dinner to show up, at the time indicated on our invitation, to find that the reception was in full swing. No one welcomed us to the reception. Never had contact with the bride or anyone else. There was plenty of cake available despite the loss of the upper tiers, but we were hungry for dinner. The buffet was still set up in the back of the room so it was clear someone had been fed, it just wasn't going to be us.

After about half an hour our table of folks headed to our house and we picked up pizza on the way home.

Really wacky (which rhymes with tacky) to say the least.

Pecksniffianism

Pecksniffian. It's a word. I found it in the shiny, red Websters on my desk. Now I want to use it in a sentence but can't, for the life of me, figure out how!

Let's see what you all can do. Don't look it up. Just use it. Run free!

Lift us up where we belong

The spring in my flip phone has died. My perky little white phone used to fairly jump to life at the mere touch of my hand. Now I have to help it open and hold it there for fear of hanging up on my mother. I was demonstrating the phone's lack of enthusiasm for life last night when my husband suggested my Nokia needed some Viagra. After the roar of laughter subsided (he doesn't usually say things like that) it occurred to me that I may be in need of a touch of Viagra in other areas of my life.

My breasts for example. They're just not hanging out where they used to. I was at the chiropractor the other day where the perky little assistant takes you to the room with the floor-to-ceiling wall-to-wall mirror and helps you stretch. That's really nice of her and all, but I didn't feel any better after stretching. I just kept looking at the body in the mirror in front of me. The legs weren't bad, for a grandma. The shoulders and arms were covered so as not to distract. What kept drawing my attention were the breasts that were situated somewhere well below the arm pits. Even with arms lifted high in an attempt to unkink my back, the breasts were still not even close to stretching with me.

That night I tried some modifications in the mirror. Lifting and squashing as if I had purchased a new bra that actually fit and wasn't also in need of Viagra. The problem was, to get the breasts where they looked like what they should, caused fat to back up clear to my arm pits. I looked great from the front but I couldn't put my arms down for the rolls under my arms.

Sort of like when you put on those super-elastic undergarments I call, "squooshy pants." Where does all that squished up tissue go exactly? The world may never know...

Like the plaintive wail at the end of Officer and a Gentleman, "Lift us up where we belong!" Perhaps if I hum that constantly my breasts will get the message. Think that could work?

Nah, don't take me seriously.

Dream jobs

The University of Nebraska Medical Center has hired someone as the Director of Communications and Emerging Technologies. The woman gets to blog for a living! Is that not the dream of every one of us?

Speaking of dream jobs, my friend Tosca has published her first novel. Check out the link below to her website. Then go to Amazon and order the book. I'm reading the advance copy. Trust me, you won't be disappointed. She's working feverishly on her next project, the story of Eve. Want to meet her or have her come speak to a group? She would love to hear from you!

Ever wonder why they're called 'slides'?

My husband and I, being as environmentally conscious as two people who own not one but two SUVs can be, drive to work together every day. Not only are we taking away Al Gore's platform, but we save a ton of money on gas. This serves the dual purpose of allowing me a few extra minutes to primp and prepare for the day while he drives. We also play along with a radio game show, "Battle of the Sexes" but that's a story for another day.

One day in early spring I notice that my heels are particularly dry. Not that my feet are ever in great shape, but this was something even I couldn't ignore. Thinking quickly, because that's what I do in the morning, I grab lotion out of my purse. The label says to "Apply liberally to thirsty skin." If these feet aren't thirsty I don't know what is. I'm applying, my feet are lapping up the bounty, and before you know it we're in front of my office. Unfortunately for me, my feet weren't done yet. They were still drinking when they needed to be gripping, the soles of my slides! I didn't go down, but it was only by sheer force of will.

It was at least noon before I could stay on my shoes. Guess that will teach me to be liberal! Some of us are just conservative, all the way to our toes.

Happy Birthday to my wonderful sister Kathleen! A woman who has all the grace anyone could ever hope for...

A moment in time they'll never forget

Our church family was fairly small, but growing quickly. Chairs were often set up to the back doors of the sanctuary and new faces were a common occurrence.

Our family was growing as well. Nick and Miranda were probably 4 and 3, Kelsey just a baby. Running late, Jeff let us out at the door so I could deposit children and we could sneak into the service already in progress. Big kids to their room, check. Kelsey and the diaper bag to the nursery, check. That left my Bible and purse as the remainder of items still hanging on my arm.

Standing in the foyer are a new couple and myself. We're both waiting for an opportunity to duck in relatively unnoticed. I introduce myself and find that their names are Rick and Carol. We can't really chat being so close to the faithful who actually made it to the service on time and have their backs pressed up to the doors. Still I find them a little standoffish. Okay, we all know what it's like to be a visitor at a church. 'Don't give anyone your name, just get in and get out so you can talk about the church in the car.' But this was more than that. She was polite enough, but he barely looked at me.

Then, it happened. I looked down to discover that I was unbuttoned, to the waist! The baby wrangling and diaper bag had done the unthinkable leaving my upper half clad only in something by Bali.

Rick and Carol still attend our church. That hasn't changed. But one thing has changed, I no longer wear anything with buttons down the front. It was all just too traumatic.

It's Todd

The rock idol making the state fair appearance is Todd Rundgren. There, now you know. He's fronting for The New Cars. It's August 30 if any of you want to join me, in the front row of course.

Queen was amazing

While I wouldn't have paid $200 to meet them I probably would have paid the equivalent in 1990 dollars to see Queen in concert. Is there a greater rock anthem than Bohemiam Rhapsody?

I just can't tell you

My husband knows who my rock obsession is, and he spent 10 minutes belittling my fantasy this weekend until he could tell I was near tears. Yes, I realize the man is now playing the free stage at a state fair. Yes, I also understand that a county fair could be the next stop. But seriously, I adore his work! Maybe he's a truly great artist and isn't interested in performing at a giant venue. Maybe he wants to connect with the people on a more intimate level. I can respect that, why can't you?

Please, do not judge him by his commercial work. He's a concept album performer. The few tunes that you would know, were I to tell you who he was, would not impress you. He's the kind of artist that you must appreciate in context. Perhaps most folks are just not musically adroit enough to grasp the complexity of his virtuosity.

Who among us doesn't swoon, just a little, over a melody that takes us back to a moment in time we should, but will never forget? (Bob Seeger, "We've Got Tonight") Who doesn't love the current 7-Up commercials for the few strains of David Cassidy that make us melt? But, it's not like that. I don't swoon, I'm entranced. I don't melt, I delve into deep contemplative states.

This concert could turn out to be the biggest disappointment since that night at Branched Oak Lake. But I don't think it will. Whatever he plays will be magic, and my fantasy will be complete.

Expecting to hear who are among your musical idols. Who would you pay $200 to have dinner with? You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine.

Until I can be sure there won't be any judging, I just can't tell you.

How long?

Erin, Kristi, any other veteran blogger,

How long does it take since I started this site until I quit checking it every 10 minutes to see if anyone has responded? Just curious.

Rock and Roll Fantasy

On Grand Avenue in St Paul Minnesota there once was a used record store. It was near the bridal shop where I bought my junior prom dress for the prom I did not attend, but that's another story. At this record store I purchased an album and it soon became one of my favorites, the artist a genius in my estimation.

Fast forward 28 years to 2007. This singer is coming to the Nebraska State Fair! He will be in the outdoor free concert arena so I will finally fulfill one lifelong goal of seeing him perform live, a rare treat indeed.

Now for the scary part. For the bargain price of $200 there is an opportunity to meet and greet prior to the concert. While it's every rock and roll groupie's fantasy to meet one of your idols I'm thinking this is one $200 bargain I'm going to let slip by.

What exactly would I say? "Gee, I think you're swell!" After that, I've got nothin'. The scene would quickly degenerate to the SNL sketch where Chris Farley interviews celebrities. Have you seen it? "So, remember the time you did that concert at Woodstock?" Yep, that would be me.

I'll just have to get there early, hope for a good seat and maybe make eye contact. That will be all I need, my fantasy will be complete.

There has to be a first, so this is it!

My niece Erin is an incredibly talented writer. Her blog is not only worth reading 'haikulady.blogspot.com' but of sharing with anyone who enjoys a witty word now and again. My only hope is that someone will check out my blog once in a while and be amused. Besides that, blogging must be less expensive than therapy.

Welcome to my blog. No poems promised, but maybe an occasional attempt. I'll try not to limit subjects to the delight of my life, my grandson Easton. Prompt me if you will, I have thoughts on many, many things.

This leads me to the title of my blog: Don't take me seriously, seriously! I'm not a terribly serious person. If I spark some dialogue with a bit of discourse then fabulous! This isn't life and death, because only life and death are life and death. This is blogging, sharing, informing, encouraging each other to think.

There now, that seems plenty for my first post. Anxious to hear from you.