tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53751028658722970672024-03-06T01:13:52.300-06:00Steele (the Day)Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.comBlogger264125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-68005878000936509442010-03-04T22:10:00.000-06:002010-03-04T22:10:41.527-06:00Let's just move along now...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUHAyrgjc-lu0HueT8QrNWh7EK4EX4fXyW7UfP6Q4T9_0CwP5TLfquKkwG0_bmykv_S0BkbYsdbytLDNd-hqNYJDY05UNXQP0GGr_uZHmZNwlRnESSnYAlyKBW_ijhf15KzGypW3XR-Wc/s1600-h/UnderConstruction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUHAyrgjc-lu0HueT8QrNWh7EK4EX4fXyW7UfP6Q4T9_0CwP5TLfquKkwG0_bmykv_S0BkbYsdbytLDNd-hqNYJDY05UNXQP0GGr_uZHmZNwlRnESSnYAlyKBW_ijhf15KzGypW3XR-Wc/s320/UnderConstruction.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm moving my random, infrequent acts of writing </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="http://steeletheday.com/" target="new">here</a> so be sure to change your bookmarks</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">. It's still a work in progress, and since I'm away on business right now, it may be a few days before I'm up and running with everything humming like a well (extra virgin olive) oiled machine. </span><a href="http://nickgeek.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Nick</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> is the braintrust/geektastic behind the new look, and has been more than a little patient with me. Very soon I will resume my aimless rambling from my perch in my kitchen. Until then I'm catching planes and <a href="http://foursquare.com/user/candysteele">Foursquaring</a> my adventures. I'm also soaking a pair of very sore feet tonight.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tea today: Tazo Zen</span></span>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-88915960959581201892010-02-20T14:06:00.000-06:002010-02-20T14:06:01.982-06:00I am so ready for spring!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As beautiful as the snow is, and as much as I really do love me some Iowa winter, I am <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">so</span> ready to get back out on my bike in the nice warm air, sunshine, and woods.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Longest. Winter. Ever.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This is really getting old.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3-G6ZuV63Udnfr2haux7qgcMx1kBWPG9j-chKY90jIn1U7qVCuocu8N0-bQ6nRKuONl7FrKx63EVbrHYJUIsVSZB3JAku6PDX9wk2ED3fLrjG4MZXMYPwLyhPUGTi-BsaGQzFAp_hevs/s1600-h/blowerbike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3-G6ZuV63Udnfr2haux7qgcMx1kBWPG9j-chKY90jIn1U7qVCuocu8N0-bQ6nRKuONl7FrKx63EVbrHYJUIsVSZB3JAku6PDX9wk2ED3fLrjG4MZXMYPwLyhPUGTi-BsaGQzFAp_hevs/s320/blowerbike.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.facebook.com/TrekBicycle" target="new"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Image: Facebook/Trek Bicycle</span></a></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Tea today: Good Earth Pomegranate Superfruit</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-56537699545729260992010-02-16T07:15:00.002-06:002010-02-16T20:11:20.140-06:00Leftovers<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Some days you feel like you have nothing left.</span><br />
<div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">After <a href="http://www.steeletheday.com/2010/02/aloha-and-mahalo.html" target="new">vacation</a>, the jet lag hit me like a tour bus. I was tired and cranky all last week - not a bit like you're supposed to be after vacation. I really needed to get organized again, back on track with work and home but at the end of every day...</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>I had nothing left. Nada. Zip.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The weekend was a blur and about 3 days too short. I only exercised twice last week (and not very hard), which left me feeling even more tired, despite nights of 8 and 9 hours of sound, dream-filled sleep. Sitting at my desk all day trying to catch up on seemingly mundane and brainless tasks didn't help much. And then I didn't eat well. And then I didn't sleep well. And the cascade of events happened all over again. Something needs to break the vicious cycle of <i>bleh</i>.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This morning I used up the last bit of <i>everything else</i> around here.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY5RQdJhRKJVOqZHuoEkk-PLYIQqakBWbIdHxC4f1FzFHZN8bQbpuJ_cg9oa5JH1wmowkidqbg4j6Qv0a2VokZUR50nL580ivr5YcVgu-X37ElXsziFT2TdudNZP5ekBXvOU8kJpJSxc8/s1600-h/IMG_1607.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY5RQdJhRKJVOqZHuoEkk-PLYIQqakBWbIdHxC4f1FzFHZN8bQbpuJ_cg9oa5JH1wmowkidqbg4j6Qv0a2VokZUR50nL580ivr5YcVgu-X37ElXsziFT2TdudNZP5ekBXvOU8kJpJSxc8/s320/IMG_1607.JPG" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I cooked the last half of banana in my oatmeal and dumped it in the almond butter jar that had one last tablespoon left in it.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEDk1f6zTzypQPVxWRMuno0cIcVMum2h8cWEYCQLLqQBIaBKRNo4EPkcegIItsD5_dkFFZq3KYKsZ-VhUdg7R3e4TzbVY8eTSSOM008XupmpdKkBnrUDFE9XB43r54ADwW6PwQ96jdARY/s1600-h/IMG_1608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEDk1f6zTzypQPVxWRMuno0cIcVMum2h8cWEYCQLLqQBIaBKRNo4EPkcegIItsD5_dkFFZq3KYKsZ-VhUdg7R3e4TzbVY8eTSSOM008XupmpdKkBnrUDFE9XB43r54ADwW6PwQ96jdARY/s320/IMG_1608.JPG" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I used the last of my grape tomatoes, dried apricots, dates, garbanzos, croutons, and lettuce for my salad for lunch today. None of this looked all that fresh.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBv23cemXhMfBcqxJMpIeo72mqVu3xv3qAASwyQ_xQua5YDb-kUWZiP5OUf-j3Z5-aCYXOKZz8XPCosCI-2DMYz7Dvuj0n0JNLt_3glYEAZsYZAihDSWhWyla3p4thzg2F2Tw0hyphenhyphenx510g/s1600-h/IMG_1604.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBv23cemXhMfBcqxJMpIeo72mqVu3xv3qAASwyQ_xQua5YDb-kUWZiP5OUf-j3Z5-aCYXOKZz8XPCosCI-2DMYz7Dvuj0n0JNLt_3glYEAZsYZAihDSWhWyla3p4thzg2F2Tw0hyphenhyphenx510g/s320/IMG_1604.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Every bag, can, container is <i>empty. </i>Except for carrots. I rarely run out of carrots. You just never know when you're going to run into a hungwy wabbit.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd3JXsbyO3PrEs6ApXgifMGEi8_zb7k69JQnJwIBALzNNXQBLgMMC9do6Dhj-wUguSrrq-qMEsEYJ5VjQdsfSNlpJ7sOvajmSpNutYykG1yALtWBNuR9uWuiIYfKv2D4r_0h6sUhM1nA4/s1600-h/IMG_1605.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd3JXsbyO3PrEs6ApXgifMGEi8_zb7k69JQnJwIBALzNNXQBLgMMC9do6Dhj-wUguSrrq-qMEsEYJ5VjQdsfSNlpJ7sOvajmSpNutYykG1yALtWBNuR9uWuiIYfKv2D4r_0h6sUhM1nA4/s320/IMG_1605.JPG" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My salad will be topped today with the very last of the only salad dressing left in the fridge.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Every feel like you have nothing left?</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Or do you look at what you've had and say <i>"I've had so much?"</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><br />
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tea today: Jasmine (my last bag)</span></span></div>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-18654837195263223452010-02-13T00:16:00.001-06:002010-02-13T00:16:45.797-06:00Happy Birthday, Mr. Burgundy<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I wanted to do a sweet, poignant interview with </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.kwwl.com/Global/story.asp?S=8109434" target="new">Ron Burgundy</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> about his <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">big</span> birthday today. I was all prepared for him to impart his usual wisdom and light, cheer and good will, but none was to be found. I wanted him to tell you how age is only a number and not a condition. How every year has been the best year yet. How grateful he was that I gave him the thinnest years of my life. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Nope.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm "airing" this anyway, because it's his day and he deserves all the attention.</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Will you answer a few questions for me? Your thoughts about turning </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">(ahem)</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> sixty?"</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"No."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Why not? I need to write a blog post and you're the only blog fodder I have this week. How does it feel to be turning sixty?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Terrible. Depressing." (Shifts ice bag on ankle).</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Why?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"I'm old." (Heavy sigh).</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Sixty isn't old. Not any more. By the time your dad was sixty he was pretty sick, and by the time my dad was sixty he'd had two heart attacks and a triple bypass. You're still <a href="http://www.steeletheday.com/2008/10/newsworthy-runners.html" target="new">running marathons</a> and doing <a href="http://www.oxf-usa.com/" target="new">extreme kickboxing</a>."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"I don't want to be sixty. You hear all the time about people who die at 60...62...."</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Do you have any regrets?"</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Yeah, I wish I'd have saved more money."</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"There's still time. The guy who invented the frisbee just died and he was 90. And look at Colonel Sanders."</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Silence.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Maybe I shouldn't have brought up dead people. He's obviously a better interviewer than interviewee. Whatever.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Go wish him Happy Birthday on </span><a href="http://twitter.com/ronsteele7"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Twitter</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> or </span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/ronsteele7"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Facebook</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> and maybe he'll think sixty isn't so bad by the time he hits sixty-one. I think he's still pretty awesome. He can out-kick, out-lift, out-bike, and out-run all of our kids <i>and</i> his young wife. Here's my favorite picture of him from vacation.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXEXduTw7toGacaUj-gfzikQRjmpPFOVDvOiHY9WdjuMpl0cMvJiSMJZ5n4i1VyhFb7wR8axbk4lzccXqiRw3ElRT6XpOlVPPKq1tW7VzDOu5K6sIuLRWE8Am6HhBb5lQMuuh0GqLsqgs/s1600-h/IMG_1554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXEXduTw7toGacaUj-gfzikQRjmpPFOVDvOiHY9WdjuMpl0cMvJiSMJZ5n4i1VyhFb7wR8axbk4lzccXqiRw3ElRT6XpOlVPPKq1tW7VzDOu5K6sIuLRWE8Am6HhBb5lQMuuh0GqLsqgs/s320/IMG_1554.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I dare anyone to age so gracefully. I just <i>love</i> this guy. The fact that we've been together for 38 years in no way makes him old. It just makes me happy. <a href="http://read.ly/Isa40.31.NIV" target="new">Isaiah 40:31</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tea today: Good Earth Pomegranate Superfruit</span></span></div></div>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-59229432305862589762010-02-09T21:45:00.002-06:002010-02-09T22:01:49.932-06:00Aloha and Mahalo<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Our vacation was a blur, albeit a beautiful one. Hawaii, Oahu, and Maui in 11 days. Well, Minneapolis too, if you want to include all the stops. The guests on our trip were kind and spry, and downright hilarious at times. My favorite comment of the trip: <i>"Excuse me. I have some support hose that need rearranging."</i></span></div><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">Our tour manager from </span><a href="http://www.holidayvacations.net/home.php" target="new"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">Holiday Vacations</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"> was probably a drill sergeant in her former life, but she had a heart of gold. She kept all 44 of us in line, on time, and fed mighty fine. Five flights, five hotels, innumerable bus rides (15 maybe?), hundreds of photos and hours of video later, I have to admit the "most expensive free trip ever" (thanks to baggage handling fees, daily internet charges, and umbrella drinks) was downright pleasant and the accommodations were 5-star.</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXrOXwCSbxxUc0eA3Qz4KvoQiQzT4EpBRMCTe5wVk_XwaXBxTAsKHg5tXZtC04oJQJJEqDm1AMrnmX8Xe3BWUlw7xHxd1zDLwJUsI3u4mLlRxHMlqsmOOhE0wjKW9XQLNfZFoaQ7C6KMs/s1600-h/IMG_1212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXrOXwCSbxxUc0eA3Qz4KvoQiQzT4EpBRMCTe5wVk_XwaXBxTAsKHg5tXZtC04oJQJJEqDm1AMrnmX8Xe3BWUlw7xHxd1zDLwJUsI3u4mLlRxHMlqsmOOhE0wjKW9XQLNfZFoaQ7C6KMs/s320/IMG_1212.JPG" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">Ron Burgundy was the perfect host for the trip. He handled his duties like he'd used a microphone before. By the second day, he knew everyones name and where they lived. He wielded his camcorder like a ninja. I was just the trophy wife along for the trip <i>(stop laughing)</i>, the unofficial trip photographer, and so blessed to have the opportunity to go along. I had a ball Tweeting my way across the islands, despite my <a href="http://twitter.com/CandySteele/status/8465709347" target="new">unintended lack of discretion for certain hashtags</a>. #gimmeabreak</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;">The side trip to Pearl Harbor was emotional and a bit eerie as I watched the solemn veterans in our group toss the flowers from their leis into the water to be carried out to sea. It was a beautiful tribute to lost lives. You could literally feel the presence of the 1,100 bodies of American soldiers still entombed in the USS Arizona below us. About a quart of oil still leaks to the surface above the ship every day and serves as another sign that we should not forget.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;color:#534D43;"><i>Never forget.<br /></i></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjYSSXEKjmIK55L6PSxRHJrXUweBe2lQidqP1WUyVz6E9W_hPdGNNEZa0ACgVKMs67AisUVY2wrPhBSTMUajX0l_ZgCtw1_kQW2XqyY-YQONxf6wUrRUsOd-Q2sD9kp27uv0wEy6KM1z8/s1600-h/IMG_1122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjYSSXEKjmIK55L6PSxRHJrXUweBe2lQidqP1WUyVz6E9W_hPdGNNEZa0ACgVKMs67AisUVY2wrPhBSTMUajX0l_ZgCtw1_kQW2XqyY-YQONxf6wUrRUsOd-Q2sD9kp27uv0wEy6KM1z8/s320/IMG_1122.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"></span>The trip to the Volcanoes National Park was a testimony to the power and strength inside God's earth. Knowing a volcano could erupt at any given time did not unsettle me. I was too awestruck by the remnants of previous eruptions and the literal artistry that resulted from molten lava, black sand, and majestic mountains.</span></span></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimqjQbMHDiNVZZYAIT6dpUZFNRcuDityKz1BtLcNaOexoKiWv7wVs2v0jxOxr5LrIqyjIG-I4tBEAeoTlza7yAJ4jYulH_pp8C4gRIgf0jQ1KmZ-OtsdNk5h9eckXAKekMiEEdKxED4o8/s1600-h/IMG_1283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimqjQbMHDiNVZZYAIT6dpUZFNRcuDityKz1BtLcNaOexoKiWv7wVs2v0jxOxr5LrIqyjIG-I4tBEAeoTlza7yAJ4jYulH_pp8C4gRIgf0jQ1KmZ-OtsdNk5h9eckXAKekMiEEdKxED4o8/s320/IMG_1283.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimqjQbMHDiNVZZYAIT6dpUZFNRcuDityKz1BtLcNaOexoKiWv7wVs2v0jxOxr5LrIqyjIG-I4tBEAeoTlza7yAJ4jYulH_pp8C4gRIgf0jQ1KmZ-OtsdNk5h9eckXAKekMiEEdKxED4o8/s1600-h/IMG_1283.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">The orchid farm was truly God's paintbrush at its best. I could have stayed there on sensory overload for hours.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2CxYqS-gDbSEguy25_mYhwYEcqQPv-b7CiRpRVbXrf6Ru-ROdfz2rf1SfhuV0waMULsguv1oJ_0FmWaZBUYRODjl7UjAKMt25RWghoyMJKx-KUa7UqXY0fHvFhZu7fwF7ePSbS343KEo/s1600-h/IMG_1231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2CxYqS-gDbSEguy25_mYhwYEcqQPv-b7CiRpRVbXrf6Ru-ROdfz2rf1SfhuV0waMULsguv1oJ_0FmWaZBUYRODjl7UjAKMt25RWghoyMJKx-KUa7UqXY0fHvFhZu7fwF7ePSbS343KEo/s200/IMG_1231.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizO-QoyUj1B3JgapYTLXxJqSxTxydQGrxSAavGFaKMJ5p2KRDzeKaNyYgdJnhGvKioohE-VNbdelLSlQ3xqIefadqXVWiUBe4YvCTU1gvCqvawwGnZbUuRA_I9TL2iVu_jT2R3bmXdV08/s1600/IMG_1237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizO-QoyUj1B3JgapYTLXxJqSxTxydQGrxSAavGFaKMJ5p2KRDzeKaNyYgdJnhGvKioohE-VNbdelLSlQ3xqIefadqXVWiUBe4YvCTU1gvCqvawwGnZbUuRA_I9TL2iVu_jT2R3bmXdV08/s200/IMG_1237.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wQ1-DFz_mGTnSlzZDe2Le7zob-Nw4qpS1eDo1qY8nW_J6t77HlSDwV4NauT8l3bbPelw1QsHuiGC4b9o9qZ7z8dI4OIiKwF5yroyr-NTaube79I2yXDsPU5kQMrLG7WWcHCBGZ00mw4/s1600-h/IMG_1235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_wQ1-DFz_mGTnSlzZDe2Le7zob-Nw4qpS1eDo1qY8nW_J6t77HlSDwV4NauT8l3bbPelw1QsHuiGC4b9o9qZ7z8dI4OIiKwF5yroyr-NTaube79I2yXDsPU5kQMrLG7WWcHCBGZ00mw4/s200/IMG_1235.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">We had free time on Maui, the most beautiful of the three islands. T</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">he meals were gastronomical. I failed in my goal to sneak into a kitchen of a swanky restaurant, just to watch the chefs. But I succeeded in eating my weight in fresh papaya, pineapple, kiwi, and melon.</span></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nuxf4KUWjjc/S2-gFbGHzSI/AAAAAAAABo4/Nj6j-xyM0wY/s1600-h/CIMG0278.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_nuxf4KUWjjc/S2-gFbGHzSI/AAAAAAAABo4/Nj6j-xyM0wY/s320/CIMG0278.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5435739290292702498" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">The banyan trees had me fascinated to the point that at any minute I expected to see The Captain from <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Five-People-You-Meet-Heaven/dp/0786868716/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1265523377&sr=8-1" target="new">"Five People You Meet in Heaven."</a></i></span></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhChiMexJIbIODOt4DVoCWhjIFBKIO4WeND-q-EIa8N-FK9FX__A93SUnrXrW5PYLr-iHYPcIleoPb38pFEYWCksp5CzVJDhuzDxFHXAHWFJVb3ExL9YzR5Fj5M1jykkNAClA1iqJdgj1g/s1600-h/IMG_1454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhChiMexJIbIODOt4DVoCWhjIFBKIO4WeND-q-EIa8N-FK9FX__A93SUnrXrW5PYLr-iHYPcIleoPb38pFEYWCksp5CzVJDhuzDxFHXAHWFJVb3ExL9YzR5Fj5M1jykkNAClA1iqJdgj1g/s320/IMG_1454.JPG" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">The sunsets in Maui were surreal.</span></span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEIxstHQJNlcXTjNTg5eJKcYE73-p9Ig0IgLTx3fgrFL5OXICRUzvSQJa2GZctUDYzpOf_uT_KNxORmdKsv57xcfQFUQBHZOslN9K3thDjYWwKlSUyD8x8M_dzdqkalfLEa4AwORX3VXU/s1600-h/IMG_1514.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEIxstHQJNlcXTjNTg5eJKcYE73-p9Ig0IgLTx3fgrFL5OXICRUzvSQJa2GZctUDYzpOf_uT_KNxORmdKsv57xcfQFUQBHZOslN9K3thDjYWwKlSUyD8x8M_dzdqkalfLEa4AwORX3VXU/s320/IMG_1514.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="text-align: left;clear: both; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(83, 77, 67); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">The last evening in Honolulu before our departure, Ron Burgundy and I walked hand-in-hand down </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">Kalakaua Avenue, home of the up-scale shops of horror like Prada, Fendi, Coach, and Tiffany. Neither of us had much interest in shopping - he was in search of a hamburger and I wanted sushi. We found neither. Wolfgang Puck demanded $47 for a steak, "market price" for surf and turf <i>(if you have to ask, you can't afford it)</i> and even the gold-painted mime wouldn't perform without a donation.</span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiey05EOidP18Sf-4S5U_8PoKHJCert9n6IBiZWV32rjirkl2htUkOo9SJXH4KO6mkvaUQOJOhN8v60bvDlkLiNmZQOVsp_t1KO7282NzyZna5gwFHWQfIgo5wIUjXFlPJD2qP-ztt2ODk/s1600-h/IMG_1537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiey05EOidP18Sf-4S5U_8PoKHJCert9n6IBiZWV32rjirkl2htUkOo9SJXH4KO6mkvaUQOJOhN8v60bvDlkLiNmZQOVsp_t1KO7282NzyZna5gwFHWQfIgo5wIUjXFlPJD2qP-ztt2ODk/s320/IMG_1537.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">And then I noticed <i>him</i>, sitting on a rock ledge across from Tiffany's, chin in hands. Hawaiian descent. Shoulders slumped. Tattered, filthy shirt. Matted hair. Plastic bags containing his only possessions were piled around him. He would be sleeping on the beach that night, providing the police didn't kick him off. His face was expressionless and his eyes were glazed. He was the classic image of homelessness.</span></span></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">I wanted to take his picture because he was a beautiful sight of sorts. The downtrodden in the middle of the glitz and glam. The poor among the rich. The empty among the full. The sad among the giddy. Such stark contrast to his surroundings, but I have no doubt he put his pants on one leg at a time, just like the fine Italian leather-shoed men who strutted past him as if he was invisible. But he was so very real.</span></span></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;"></span></span></span></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#534d43;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS',sans-serif;">He was an indelible image from a place known for extravagance. I will never forget him.</span></span></span></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;color:#534D43;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;color:#534D43;">Nor will I ever forget the sight and sound of the sea.</span><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyqX1QR95z98zzVO3rR-7GkO7D8FRWZoG_EvAZ-1Gcrt6jPhHRn6IbACNOOZPP9G_E5OGr0BnvuFN5tUoTUIA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';">Aloha, and Mahalo.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Tea tonight: Hawaiian Islands Pineapple Waikiki</span></span></div></div></div>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-72189732853757912010-02-07T14:28:00.000-06:002010-02-07T14:28:15.846-06:00So Long, Farewell, auf Wiedersehen, Goodbye...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijG0bzY9BIlGcX98ZixIiO8u68KvJCtzx9sK1Wph0y7cd0jyo1NkdC7ZQ3JDpWatHT9OSZddkv3VXQ5Kb-JHziA-AP6cUaVHGliZowbL588vPCMkMdrSV6LPO-3EN0TImkA3yGX5J9Jxk/s1600-h/IMG_1576.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijG0bzY9BIlGcX98ZixIiO8u68KvJCtzx9sK1Wph0y7cd0jyo1NkdC7ZQ3JDpWatHT9OSZddkv3VXQ5Kb-JHziA-AP6cUaVHGliZowbL588vPCMkMdrSV6LPO-3EN0TImkA3yGX5J9Jxk/s320/IMG_1576.JPG" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We attended our last service today at the church we've attended and served for the past 20 years. For unnecessary reasons outside our four walls, our pastor retired and about half the congregation left as well. It was a sad day that never had to happen, but it is what it is.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It was always my pleasure to serve God and the people through this little church. Our kids were all confirmed there. RB and Luke sang in the choir. I can't count how many times I made broccoli-grape salad for funerals, helped serve communion, and for the last 9 years I've prepped and run the projection for our contemporary service. It was a good place for me, up there in our make-shift "sound room." I could cry my eyes out (I'm a well-known "church cryer") without having everyone see me. The huge cross in the sanctuary is formed from three spikes, and is the same one tattooed on my son's back <i>(I'm over it)</i>. For the past 20 years, all of our family ushered at the 8 pm Christmas Eve service. It was such a blessed tradition, but one that is no longer. New people will replace us and new traditions will come into our lives.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Onward and upward.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We're in the process of finding a new church home. I can't wait to see what God has planned for us there. Our old church will remain in my prayers.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Our praise team sang together for the last time today. They did a beautiful job on "What Faith Can Do," one of my favorite (tear-jerker) songs.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/WiBNkZHOBI8&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/WiBNkZHOBI8&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tea today: Yamamotoyama Green</span></span></div></div>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-35189880900590144432010-01-31T02:38:00.000-06:002010-01-31T02:38:23.520-06:00I could get used to this<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqU4XAKf-2eeM8Or3sR2un4VVQXY77Sh92_NEsPysr55Pwi_3E21WcugDndH3TAuZMNhYclxysPBPAyOHhl3mm1S-EjuSuyei-oRwRJUJH9_6STz5uMm_5s3z1TBkX8IJeqbSzfiJhxAY/s1600-h/IMG_1157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqU4XAKf-2eeM8Or3sR2un4VVQXY77Sh92_NEsPysr55Pwi_3E21WcugDndH3TAuZMNhYclxysPBPAyOHhl3mm1S-EjuSuyei-oRwRJUJH9_6STz5uMm_5s3z1TBkX8IJeqbSzfiJhxAY/s320/IMG_1157.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqU4XAKf-2eeM8Or3sR2un4VVQXY77Sh92_NEsPysr55Pwi_3E21WcugDndH3TAuZMNhYclxysPBPAyOHhl3mm1S-EjuSuyei-oRwRJUJH9_6STz5uMm_5s3z1TBkX8IJeqbSzfiJhxAY/s1600-h/IMG_1157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A shoreline spackled with coral.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxkepTnAwtOe_TUXodlskR-09Pd_eyMFaRd3if61v4xrOWhhX5cWNltGwZzD20SRPSTV3fQocS7dhT7EIaEMeauFCb-GUCDUkLizKm-slfKt32DV71CI2txCjFnTXSiBVlUM9eRItblxk/s1600-h/IMG_1171.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxkepTnAwtOe_TUXodlskR-09Pd_eyMFaRd3if61v4xrOWhhX5cWNltGwZzD20SRPSTV3fQocS7dhT7EIaEMeauFCb-GUCDUkLizKm-slfKt32DV71CI2txCjFnTXSiBVlUM9eRItblxk/s320/IMG_1171.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxkepTnAwtOe_TUXodlskR-09Pd_eyMFaRd3if61v4xrOWhhX5cWNltGwZzD20SRPSTV3fQocS7dhT7EIaEMeauFCb-GUCDUkLizKm-slfKt32DV71CI2txCjFnTXSiBVlUM9eRItblxk/s1600-h/IMG_1171.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The sea pounding against the lava rock.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7aJmaR42Yo6xRnRxHeWplMGdgAfoZaFgy-tbM7GKr81IhYiNL1bWQ2HVVwpltYyIne8AfSn4B2MU8rQPpxHVQsV5W7vziwGRBvUJ9ECguESkFXs9rnNt0fqeQjrKpNCXBSJx-gmY8nc/s1600-h/IMG_1201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7aJmaR42Yo6xRnRxHeWplMGdgAfoZaFgy-tbM7GKr81IhYiNL1bWQ2HVVwpltYyIne8AfSn4B2MU8rQPpxHVQsV5W7vziwGRBvUJ9ECguESkFXs9rnNt0fqeQjrKpNCXBSJx-gmY8nc/s320/IMG_1201.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm7aJmaR42Yo6xRnRxHeWplMGdgAfoZaFgy-tbM7GKr81IhYiNL1bWQ2HVVwpltYyIne8AfSn4B2MU8rQPpxHVQsV5W7vziwGRBvUJ9ECguESkFXs9rnNt0fqeQjrKpNCXBSJx-gmY8nc/s1600-h/IMG_1201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A sunset from our hotel balcony.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07OuElApJrHQOUns_5eZeVO-xgFv8FNoljG2dlcTCevjMyqrbY0oOA_DEDCbchrT0zfQIesveD4AHs0K7F59vsBMyNa1DDAY_Mgqxt9I2u6QucCl8-5EtT3QaWZpHvrmOqXuMV5BXHaI/s1600-h/IMG_1205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07OuElApJrHQOUns_5eZeVO-xgFv8FNoljG2dlcTCevjMyqrbY0oOA_DEDCbchrT0zfQIesveD4AHs0K7F59vsBMyNa1DDAY_Mgqxt9I2u6QucCl8-5EtT3QaWZpHvrmOqXuMV5BXHaI/s320/IMG_1205.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj07OuElApJrHQOUns_5eZeVO-xgFv8FNoljG2dlcTCevjMyqrbY0oOA_DEDCbchrT0zfQIesveD4AHs0K7F59vsBMyNa1DDAY_Mgqxt9I2u6QucCl8-5EtT3QaWZpHvrmOqXuMV5BXHaI/s1600-h/IMG_1205.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A volcanic view from the plane.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg54u2t4dgeqKhc-SVa0-HbnBxltklFhciRKTVkmo9mh1kR909vJtvSm5CPHrFLQ7FygzfU4Oof3OxCp1pjG16G8XKXUuEBp39zcmRvGzq4MeJVRAOMFvRgK1BxsCDOh9Kl9EL5ugsLehk/s1600-h/IMG_1316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg54u2t4dgeqKhc-SVa0-HbnBxltklFhciRKTVkmo9mh1kR909vJtvSm5CPHrFLQ7FygzfU4Oof3OxCp1pjG16G8XKXUuEBp39zcmRvGzq4MeJVRAOMFvRgK1BxsCDOh9Kl9EL5ugsLehk/s320/IMG_1316.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg54u2t4dgeqKhc-SVa0-HbnBxltklFhciRKTVkmo9mh1kR909vJtvSm5CPHrFLQ7FygzfU4Oof3OxCp1pjG16G8XKXUuEBp39zcmRvGzq4MeJVRAOMFvRgK1BxsCDOh9Kl9EL5ugsLehk/s1600-h/IMG_1316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The surf pounding against the lava rock wall outside our room.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWAHWzekr_FbhRSmHnPFI8e0fGDfC-Z8jQ1jGU6taT9qBKhbpZyuHcfPa2L6WsoXIJXVLF6bVAg9j1-1BT9WHMx-e4Mbvjpg2IrKAsi8K2_uY3Tby1h-xaqPrXLHaav0AhNyU-eRC3iAs/s1600-h/IMG_1345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWAHWzekr_FbhRSmHnPFI8e0fGDfC-Z8jQ1jGU6taT9qBKhbpZyuHcfPa2L6WsoXIJXVLF6bVAg9j1-1BT9WHMx-e4Mbvjpg2IrKAsi8K2_uY3Tby1h-xaqPrXLHaav0AhNyU-eRC3iAs/s320/IMG_1345.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWAHWzekr_FbhRSmHnPFI8e0fGDfC-Z8jQ1jGU6taT9qBKhbpZyuHcfPa2L6WsoXIJXVLF6bVAg9j1-1BT9WHMx-e4Mbvjpg2IrKAsi8K2_uY3Tby1h-xaqPrXLHaav0AhNyU-eRC3iAs/s1600-h/IMG_1345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A little food along the way.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8i2ICoXBP7Cur8PzMiUHKO3a-nskkTCLdQffOkZJ6ghvsLVzgkBMhV4ytyf8OkbMN4DTjcyXD147WBBe6cawNhIh2-NHhnBnQBvLNVZmjit0GlnyMcdSAdmcWEyYtqslxX-6N1XUPBs/s1600-h/IMG_1408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8i2ICoXBP7Cur8PzMiUHKO3a-nskkTCLdQffOkZJ6ghvsLVzgkBMhV4ytyf8OkbMN4DTjcyXD147WBBe6cawNhIh2-NHhnBnQBvLNVZmjit0GlnyMcdSAdmcWEyYtqslxX-6N1XUPBs/s320/IMG_1408.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8i2ICoXBP7Cur8PzMiUHKO3a-nskkTCLdQffOkZJ6ghvsLVzgkBMhV4ytyf8OkbMN4DTjcyXD147WBBe6cawNhIh2-NHhnBnQBvLNVZmjit0GlnyMcdSAdmcWEyYtqslxX-6N1XUPBs/s1600-h/IMG_1408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">An abundance of flowers ready for lei-making.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVz4gcrZItagmHM5402erl0FgIAxPEu-UbomZalsX3k-kCYQrMi95zzP0vMn2VcE5hrUtYVGcsjOEe95mXZ7VQR_5hEUKhvHd9yelWWPtaFOCyTv4Cru6gJeUm0sjrdODFne1BRqfvin8/s1600-h/IMG_1307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVz4gcrZItagmHM5402erl0FgIAxPEu-UbomZalsX3k-kCYQrMi95zzP0vMn2VcE5hrUtYVGcsjOEe95mXZ7VQR_5hEUKhvHd9yelWWPtaFOCyTv4Cru6gJeUm0sjrdODFne1BRqfvin8/s320/IMG_1307.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVz4gcrZItagmHM5402erl0FgIAxPEu-UbomZalsX3k-kCYQrMi95zzP0vMn2VcE5hrUtYVGcsjOEe95mXZ7VQR_5hEUKhvHd9yelWWPtaFOCyTv4Cru6gJeUm0sjrdODFne1BRqfvin8/s1600-h/IMG_1307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And umbrella drinks. Oh yeah.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQ5EspBWw9KoIlLEKpGrc4hWOHIPUxw1G4CVc3YbWR5DQqWWBPoHQmkpYOv5wT2L6ZQkkejb1NGjLKrG298JOZHRuqz7NdJM2dIkOvg2dhZpgTQYVphD6XWWUtTYnTmoVXgIDsMMAMPg/s1600-h/IMG_1425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQ5EspBWw9KoIlLEKpGrc4hWOHIPUxw1G4CVc3YbWR5DQqWWBPoHQmkpYOv5wT2L6ZQkkejb1NGjLKrG298JOZHRuqz7NdJM2dIkOvg2dhZpgTQYVphD6XWWUtTYnTmoVXgIDsMMAMPg/s320/IMG_1425.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Hey, how did this guy get in here? </i>I was concerned about him after he did a fire dance. Wanted to make sure he was OK (and didn't do any harm to those 6-pack abs). Yeah, he's winking ;)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRP72eU2eX7EATVx9zJN3kyqQeRF4Tw9MtjH_xA8scNAYmHwp5De1CRSXtHa0woThBhzEN8fZOs1VhAXy45DE-zcHX2FswojcgYmf2lhTB7IPH-eShQgnXDUlwM78FCKlwjhd8wyWo58g/s1600-h/IMG_1257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRP72eU2eX7EATVx9zJN3kyqQeRF4Tw9MtjH_xA8scNAYmHwp5De1CRSXtHa0woThBhzEN8fZOs1VhAXy45DE-zcHX2FswojcgYmf2lhTB7IPH-eShQgnXDUlwM78FCKlwjhd8wyWo58g/s320/IMG_1257.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This is the one I meant to post.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Aloha!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tea today: is an umbrella drink considered tea when you're on vacation?</span></span></div>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-23634968085305059492010-01-23T11:38:00.001-06:002010-01-23T11:41:05.140-06:00Wherein nothing has changed - or has it?<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The last half of 2009 defies description. Funky maybe?</span><br />
<div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I felt like a human casserole of worry, fear, and fog. It was just on the inside, but those close to me noticed. Those who cared, asked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>"I'm fine."</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The details of what I blame on getting me there are irrelevant, and to recite the ingredient list of my stew would serve no purpose. We all have things in our lives we want to be different. Suffice it to say that life happens, you take the good with the bad, and you wake up each morning asking yourself <i>"Is this the day things will straighten out?"</i> My heart would race (literally) and skip beats. I'd lay down at night with my fingers touching my pulsing carotid artery, counting the erratic lub-dubs, yet didn't care enough to have the physical symptoms evaluated.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Because deep down I knew, they were not physical. I've seen it a thousand times before in the patients who have walked through my work life. <i>That would never be me.</i></span><br />
<div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This blog sat in neutral and may still sit a while. Rare postings. <i>I had nothing</i> except an occasional 140 characters or less. It was like I was floating, watching someone else who looked somewhat like me move ghost-like from day to day.<br />
</span><br />
<div></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I was uncomfortable. Uneasy. Totally disconnected.</span><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF__NczVh5-PXSPnQKPNf1HEWyuzfl3ytIZYH2WfpFp9P8naRKoSWWFAyv4xjs_RL5pcpv6_Bp9fdrCr3Rxj3f8roDEl92usAoaKWw7-s79RQ9DCq3pii2WEMfPQ76OHjRa9-5hZsBn8E/s1600-h/God+is+Love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF__NczVh5-PXSPnQKPNf1HEWyuzfl3ytIZYH2WfpFp9P8naRKoSWWFAyv4xjs_RL5pcpv6_Bp9fdrCr3Rxj3f8roDEl92usAoaKWw7-s79RQ9DCq3pii2WEMfPQ76OHjRa9-5hZsBn8E/s200/God+is+Love.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I had only one way out of this drudgery, and I knew it. I'm well aware that God cares much less about my comfort than He does about my relationship with Him, and that being comfortable so often leads to complacency in mind, body, and spirit. So I dug a little deeper. OK, a <i>lot</i> deeper. I needed to be somewhere else - not physically, but emotionally and spiritually. I read my Bible with more intention. My dedicated time in the morning involved arising early and doing nothing for at least a full hour except reading Scripture, understanding the Word through God-breathed teachers and pastors, and being intentional about where my heart really is. <i>Now. Today.</i> I took friends' prayer requests very seriously <i>(wow, we're a hurting bunch)</i> and felt confident my prayers were being heard. If I told you I was praying for you, trust me when I say it was with fervor and intention. RB and I embarked on praying <i>together</i>. On purpose. Epic.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And I removed my selfish requests from those prayers.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>"So what can I say</i></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>What can I do</i></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>But offer this heart O God</i></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Completely to You."</i></span><br />
</div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I realized last Saturday night at church when we sang this song that things have become gradually and gracefully different. I feel a sense of peace and calm, even in the midst of the Haiti heartache. The worry and fear are no longer off the charts, and I seem to have a lot more focus at work, with friends, and at home. I don't feel like I'm floating anymore. It's great not being in charge, or rather <i>fully knowing that I'm not</i>.</span><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What changed? Every circumstance in my life has remained exactly the same. On the outside, nothing has changed. People. Places. Jobs. Relationships. Surroundings. Finances. I <i>did</i> get new tires, but other than that - nothing. has. changed.</span><br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">God is the same. Everything is exactly the same.</span><br />
<br />
</div><div></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Except me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I hope I don't stay comfortable with that.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>"So I'll stand</i></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>With arms high and heart abandoned</i></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>In awe of the One who gave it all</i></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>So I'll stand</i></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>My soul Lord to You surrendered</i></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>All I am is Yours"</i></span><br />
</div><br />
</div></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><object height="344" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/74c8nFNPkD0&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/74c8nFNPkD0&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tea today: Jasmine</span></span><br />
</div>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-29820643693329151442010-01-17T23:13:00.000-06:002010-01-17T23:13:57.855-06:00The Swimsuit Debacle<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I have this friend who was told she needed a swimsuit for an upcoming tropical vacation. She had years of collected swimsuits at one point - but they seem to have disappeared. She thinks they went to the last Goodwill run, probably because they were so old she was afraid she'd actually wear them again. And be mocked unmercifully.</span><br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">She ran across a brand called the Slimsuit. It actually has a patent and is guaranteed to make one appear pounds and inches slimmer. So my friend tried one on at the mall today. She chose the appropriate size and the color that appeared to be the most flattering.</span><br />
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</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1L-sKMW1fWs67mIziSIAIMakZaUkcONS63HTHycLamgSDWpF5CVXq3AIM6ejE2GU2SSFtIzY8DSM6us2JE184_n3K2OHljHvj-OpnrfUAT1dsTgJPnYIbKBGbfvumamRJF3kNKgWgJCo/s1600/wior_swimsuit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1L-sKMW1fWs67mIziSIAIMakZaUkcONS63HTHycLamgSDWpF5CVXq3AIM6ejE2GU2SSFtIzY8DSM6us2JE184_n3K2OHljHvj-OpnrfUAT1dsTgJPnYIbKBGbfvumamRJF3kNKgWgJCo/s200/wior_swimsuit.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The fluorescent lighting in the dressing room cast a horrendous yellow-green glow on skin that hadn't seen a dose of Vitamin D for months. Undaunted, she disrobed and put her right foot through the first leg hole, smugly pleased that her balance was so solid for a woman her age. Tweeting from the treadmill and EFX really has it's advantages when it comes to balance and core strength. After pulling the suit up to her hips, she felt a strong sense of gratitude.</span><br />
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1L-sKMW1fWs67mIziSIAIMakZaUkcONS63HTHycLamgSDWpF5CVXq3AIM6ejE2GU2SSFtIzY8DSM6us2JE184_n3K2OHljHvj-OpnrfUAT1dsTgJPnYIbKBGbfvumamRJF3kNKgWgJCo/s1600-h/wior_swimsuit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span></a> <br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The upper body strength training was paying off, as she met significant resistance pulling the suit up over her hips. She double checked the size to be sure it was correct. The tugging began. She became warm and a bit diaphoretic with her efforts, but she did not give up. Once the bottom half of the suit was securely in place, the rest was fairly easy. The shoulder straps of the tank-type suit felt a little snug, and as she attempted to take a deep breath, she realized that indeed, breathing would have it's limits.</span><br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">She turned to look in the mirror and gasped. She had no idea that aged body could look so slim and trim and attractive. It was truly a miracle. Flat stomach, slim hips, smooth back...all encased in a suit of armor.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Unfortunately, loose skin, excess adipose tissue, and a few internal organs take the path of least resistance, and though the "body" of this Slimsuit-clad friend looked fabulous, she was horrified at the sudden appearance of jumbo armpit biscuits, shoulder pads, backfat, saddlebags, and yes, even the outpouring of frontsetts, all having appeared from the relentless compression of the fabulous patented suit. Looks notwithstanding, breathing was difficult, perhaps because of the rebar sewn into the suit to reinforce it's shape. The fabric had very little "give," reminiscent of the heavy vinyl cover she pulls and tugs to snap on the boat until her fingers bleed. And these newly acquired appendages nearly glowed neon green with the glare of fluorescent lights on that winter-white skin. She was a vision of a radioactive Michelin Man.</span><br />
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</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But indeed, <b><i>the suit</i></b> looked fabulous.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">With the help of a shoe horn, hangers, and hand lotion, we managed to remove her from the vicious entrapment that someone dared to call swimwear. I took my exhausted friend home, we munched on carrot and celery sticks, and I helped her Google "tropical print gauze Snuggie."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Hopefully the bruises will be gone by the time she goes on her vacation. She's really earned it now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tea tonight: Pineapple Waikiki</span></span><br />
</div></div>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-59712079574874945922010-01-11T06:40:00.000-06:002010-01-11T06:40:07.369-06:00Recharging<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-U_lnrRxKHjmomu79H5ktTy2bi6WbcaAiCjEffY4yya4krbXaPkA9b3999knwl-ou1O3WiXNNO_N-F5cKsL2FSPdqI7OiDQJ_NhC3pKi9Di2KdhmDJqiiE_TPUWeErNib-1SmmWNen8/s1600-h/teacup.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-U_lnrRxKHjmomu79H5ktTy2bi6WbcaAiCjEffY4yya4krbXaPkA9b3999knwl-ou1O3WiXNNO_N-F5cKsL2FSPdqI7OiDQJ_NhC3pKi9Di2KdhmDJqiiE_TPUWeErNib-1SmmWNen8/s200/teacup.bmp" /></a><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Just for a bit - the real world is calling for my time and attention, and I feel compelled to listen <i>(this time)</i>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Tomorrow Bridget will host the <a href="http://www.bridgetchumbley.com/" target="new">One Word at a Time Blog Carnival</a> on the word "lust." This is not my way of getting out of posting; perhaps it's my way of taking the time to peruse others' wonderful posts. I hope you do the same.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Verdana, sans-seif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><a href="http://read.ly/Jer6.16.NLT"><i>"Stop at the crossroads and look around. Ask for the old, godly way, and walk in it. Travel its path, and you will find rest for your souls."</i></a></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tea today: Genmaicha</span></span>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-22008161781872278442010-01-08T09:27:00.000-06:002010-01-08T09:27:09.657-06:00I want the snow without the cold<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQqAJ1off4wIzFnkW8n9fPs_Kh4IykwaPx3TnNpK9h9KZJgIidNtizKWa2UJ3ttFnIomfVZRD48MAaaqUB7UmY8Zh16TQseSQNXFpS29YP-60vwUQpFGRD3uJldM-4LC2sHmaClZZE3Q/s1600-h/IMG_1001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQqAJ1off4wIzFnkW8n9fPs_Kh4IykwaPx3TnNpK9h9KZJgIidNtizKWa2UJ3ttFnIomfVZRD48MAaaqUB7UmY8Zh16TQseSQNXFpS29YP-60vwUQpFGRD3uJldM-4LC2sHmaClZZE3Q/s320/IMG_1001.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I've lived in Iowa all of my life (well, not yet, but so far). I love the changes of seasons, and especially the beauty of the snow. The way the drifts become so beautifully sculpted by the 20 mph winds never ceases to amaze me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small; font-style: italic;">It also never ceases to amaze me that the street plows come after your driveway has been plowed, thus forcing me to call neighbor George back with his scooper thingie.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Z-E-d6QhQJ23DsYS3IcLkpBq0bDwgLxAdNWTmU7lrihOw1nvAszTwqTGLwWWz3uoYMCYVkT0V4uydE5Dhjl5hICFC2Fgd0W_XzxQj8YZoX4aY5O0pXVKOo9hxFJZ4nBLzBeDLp_K8vE/s1600-h/IMG_1006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Z-E-d6QhQJ23DsYS3IcLkpBq0bDwgLxAdNWTmU7lrihOw1nvAszTwqTGLwWWz3uoYMCYVkT0V4uydE5Dhjl5hICFC2Fgd0W_XzxQj8YZoX4aY5O0pXVKOo9hxFJZ4nBLzBeDLp_K8vE/s320/IMG_1006.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">That's our pond up there. Just to the right, out of view of the lens, is the hole created by the heater that allows my fish to stay alive in suspended animation until the water temperature is high enough for them to move again. Some of those bad boys have lived in that pond for 10 years. I've never heard them complain.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Z-E-d6QhQJ23DsYS3IcLkpBq0bDwgLxAdNWTmU7lrihOw1nvAszTwqTGLwWWz3uoYMCYVkT0V4uydE5Dhjl5hICFC2Fgd0W_XzxQj8YZoX4aY5O0pXVKOo9hxFJZ4nBLzBeDLp_K8vE/s1600-h/IMG_1006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5rJXKtXA08hfyDAQJM6VXK9Q5gE0RL66SBm_7Eq7Cb4wIFANnevaGRDWhLLjqkpF5iZPtkSk0i81elLGsDnoAGrP6msTk0UfYhDE94fmRZrh9UX_LrO4LYRfuZY72L9PwcGcIwE9_6dI/s1600-h/IMG_1000.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5rJXKtXA08hfyDAQJM6VXK9Q5gE0RL66SBm_7Eq7Cb4wIFANnevaGRDWhLLjqkpF5iZPtkSk0i81elLGsDnoAGrP6msTk0UfYhDE94fmRZrh9UX_LrO4LYRfuZY72L9PwcGcIwE9_6dI/s320/IMG_1000.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> the birds get fed by berries and seed that Ron Burgundy throws them every day. Yes, on the ground. It sprouts. In the spring. And the seasons start all over again.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq0DARbyR1H7wBmgPrqcnBxqh2-w7JbMjNstSmvYHjv96ukRNph3ok4EnAQ4M5fw0BDtOY2vbALF7vNc_TdT_EKdzjtHRVVrkcEwtK4alvJB16tYxCXMMRQJsb95UX-dvI06-e6tX5Htw/s1600-h/IMG_1007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq0DARbyR1H7wBmgPrqcnBxqh2-w7JbMjNstSmvYHjv96ukRNph3ok4EnAQ4M5fw0BDtOY2vbALF7vNc_TdT_EKdzjtHRVVrkcEwtK4alvJB16tYxCXMMRQJsb95UX-dvI06-e6tX5Htw/s320/IMG_1007.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But seriously, 30 below zero wind chill? I'll never get used to that. I want 70 degrees and snow - is that too much to ask?</span><br />
</div>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-84328241022887276432010-01-01T17:11:00.004-06:002010-01-02T11:53:44.338-06:00Reflections on 2009<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-cMQaDXDEcuixuXKAcNzkHKIdx4Eo3DgnUC_FNnUAMfPv7GcqesS9-vt-tPwvypFdPBeTbNADfDBv9y_gLhTqV3rj71mNlNWqESaeiedzmjAViv6NLe7l5Fako1Wjqxfnfpw0Hbx-CGg/s1600-h/2010+Che+Schiaccia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-cMQaDXDEcuixuXKAcNzkHKIdx4Eo3DgnUC_FNnUAMfPv7GcqesS9-vt-tPwvypFdPBeTbNADfDBv9y_gLhTqV3rj71mNlNWqESaeiedzmjAViv6NLe7l5Fako1Wjqxfnfpw0Hbx-CGg/s200/2010+Che+Schiaccia.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Whether it's appropriately called "twenty-ten" or "two-thousand-ten," I will no doubt write "2009" for 3 more months. It will take me that long to change my habit for the new year, and then another few weeks while the "2010" written in Sharpie on my hand gets embedded in my brain.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It was an interesting year, starting out with som</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">e </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.steeletheday.com/2009/01/shaken-faith.html" target="new">devastating news about a friend</a> and</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> the spontaneous combustion of wackadoos into a </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">whole new <a href="http://fottsp.blogspot.com/" target="new">circle of blog buddies</a></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> (known to Ron Burgundy as the "imaginaries"). I found terrific inspiration from a great writer <a href="http://gitzengirl.blogspot.com/" target="new">Sara and her dog Riley</a> and only through an odd hijacking of <a href="http://withoutwax.tv/" target="new">Pete Wilson's blog</a> comments one day, did we figure out she lives a mere 7 miles up the road from me. As it came to pass, we found that we've had common ties for over 15 years. How weird/coincidental/spiritual/cool is that?? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I agonized and beat myself up over my <a href="http://www.steeletheday.com/2009/02/i-loved-them-enough-but-did-i-love-them.html" target="new">kids</a>, and then praised God at the <a href="http://www.steeletheday.com/2009/05/in-only-moment-about-boy-and-his-bride.html" target="new">beautiful wedding of my eldest son</a> which gained me an awesome daughter-in-law whom I allow to pound me in Phase 10 because she may be picking out my nursing home some day. I keep my kids close in prayer, including <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ee_t83QjIo" target="new">this one</a>, as our visits are all too infrequent.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It was an tasty year on the food front. I fell in love with generic foods over brand names (other than fire-roasted tomatoes and pomegranates) and found that pennies add up faster than you can say "free food." I fell more in love with whole foods, and further out of love with any food that has a mother. Perhaps it was the 6 months of <a href="http://www.steeletheday.com/2009/04/rally.html" target="new">chicken noodle soup that I made for my dying dog</a>, or just the gag factor of running gears on a chicken, but I could count on one hand the number of times poultry has crossed my chicken lips this year. I <a href="http://twitpic.com/photos/candysteele" target="new">Twit-pic'd</a> my way through <a href="http://twitpic.com/918lv" target="new">breakfast</a>, <a href="http://twitpic.com/fzsre" target="new">lunch</a>, and <a href="http://twitpic.com/93i61" target="new">dinner</a>, as well as through <a href="http://twitpic.com/f9vlb" target="new">a minor finger amputation</a>, <a href="http://twitpic.com/nws80" target="new">my daughter's New York Marathon finish</a> and a <a href="http://twitpic.com/w87cu" target="new">spectacular field in Iowa I never knew existed</a>.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I walked my favorite labyrinth more times than I can count </span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQUESQargFZMZfs55mA4cvwlfnKSOe8DlvMTkBbgPHAMj3EdR2agzCEJiy51RoznVf_qdSWwi19wpKaYYEheFr6nKWVFgbCZYnvvb31E7BAl_AKQi5WwHkRuyHeYhQkso54xnP7JdG1gM/s1600-h/IMG_0043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQUESQargFZMZfs55mA4cvwlfnKSOe8DlvMTkBbgPHAMj3EdR2agzCEJiy51RoznVf_qdSWwi19wpKaYYEheFr6nKWVFgbCZYnvvb31E7BAl_AKQi5WwHkRuyHeYhQkso54xnP7JdG1gM/s320/IMG_0043.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I stared into mighty Mississippi waters at sunset</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXtUChpKMFQizV82zN5j7cIq6UiIXfb2i1XbWFZTw3n-uXDje896eKTaS9MJ79Ic5udfPWjTkvwmTjF4e8Uh252Rls09pF8xx5DoWDWJsiMrZzzCqOX3lsku4VDLX66MmUYg5d0rzoAw/s1600-h/IMG_0121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIXtUChpKMFQizV82zN5j7cIq6UiIXfb2i1XbWFZTw3n-uXDje896eKTaS9MJ79Ic5udfPWjTkvwmTjF4e8Uh252Rls09pF8xx5DoWDWJsiMrZzzCqOX3lsku4VDLX66MmUYg5d0rzoAw/s320/IMG_0121.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And biked into sunsets on land</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbmAb7RgDF8GdF89zS5Gh4b0M546YDCloSmW_GW6HODBr4W6uMcCSnwa-Wmjcu3QZ0LBQLuUpUu2vxlx20Fe_bBeWZA-lLYhKASWBPItpTLlMwv44xJiule2HmYXOEdxk4zj-1_bXmQs/s1600-h/IMG_0054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbmAb7RgDF8GdF89zS5Gh4b0M546YDCloSmW_GW6HODBr4W6uMcCSnwa-Wmjcu3QZ0LBQLuUpUu2vxlx20Fe_bBeWZA-lLYhKASWBPItpTLlMwv44xJiule2HmYXOEdxk4zj-1_bXmQs/s320/IMG_0054.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I got lost in the woods more than once</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXoLoTNiDFCmB5XXL0RtV6qG5tinBeamdL5ZjsTWSb6TtwfzhPPJkllK4Jk9XrNVWUETHU-WnsVC6LRhZCcfZ36rREX3260ujhuJhuHP_6rzjLzatMeOxnOyU-O22FmusGNW-yVJxlE1c/s1600-h/IMG_0174.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXoLoTNiDFCmB5XXL0RtV6qG5tinBeamdL5ZjsTWSb6TtwfzhPPJkllK4Jk9XrNVWUETHU-WnsVC6LRhZCcfZ36rREX3260ujhuJhuHP_6rzjLzatMeOxnOyU-O22FmusGNW-yVJxlE1c/s320/IMG_0174.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But continued to meet new friends in the process</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6b_7Pthp5nbt9ylzYknEoDgHe6yep-aIkvLd86aAGKfzE-rJr7L94B5x38ZSDW0WAMi6qIicQPpbUgrg_ys47-gEjizY1FiB25oBHCXF9Jx0TyGj0uhvYGOFa80d3gejIHWFwy-AbFo/s1600-h/IMG_0336.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6b_7Pthp5nbt9ylzYknEoDgHe6yep-aIkvLd86aAGKfzE-rJr7L94B5x38ZSDW0WAMi6qIicQPpbUgrg_ys47-gEjizY1FiB25oBHCXF9Jx0TyGj0uhvYGOFa80d3gejIHWFwy-AbFo/s320/IMG_0336.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We buried two things in the back yard, <a href="http://www.steeletheday.com/2009/06/love-from-luckypuppy-at-bridge.html" target="new">Lucky</a> and <a href="http://www.snopes.com/luck/stjoseph.asp" target="new">St. Joseph</a></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZMxDJ1SQeStI0Za_KpflCGmwWXrnezssScXgDKc4kff3lyOs1z3bDn7Ln9UlTk6ztXm6au86fhzSTJoOw0UG9H4Nk0a_RYt0yH_EOhNBxHirzdDvYz-n7jT0G0b9uz07sFiz4cXRHH8/s1600-h/luckygrave.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZMxDJ1SQeStI0Za_KpflCGmwWXrnezssScXgDKc4kff3lyOs1z3bDn7Ln9UlTk6ztXm6au86fhzSTJoOw0UG9H4Nk0a_RYt0yH_EOhNBxHirzdDvYz-n7jT0G0b9uz07sFiz4cXRHH8/s320/luckygrave.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We don't plan on digging up Lucky since his <a href="http://www.steeletheday.com/2009/06/moving-on-last-lucky-post-perhaps.html" target="new">perfect healing</a>, but have high hopes for Joe.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My resolve for the New Year?</span><br />
</div><ul><li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.youversion.com/" target="new">Study more</a>.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Rid my life of clutter and junk, including toxic habits, people, and <i>stuff</i>.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Fertilize, nurture, and prune every <a href="http://read.ly/Gal5.22.NLT" target="new">fruit</a> of the <a href="http://read.ly/Gal5.23.NLT" target="new">Spirit</a></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Spend more time with my family, taking wisdom from <a href="http://makeadiff21.squarespace.com/home-page/2009/12/30/one-word-at-a-time-love.html" target="new">my friend Ginny's post</a> to "Never treat your friends better than you treat your [mother, father, sister, brother]."</span></li>
</ul><div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Thanks to all tens of friends who stop by here and comment regularly (I love you!), those who lurk (family), and for those of you who landed here with the Google search "ate his testicles" (who <i>ARE</i> you, anyway?) and found <a href="http://www.steeletheday.com/2009/05/buddy-dog-or-whats-for-lunch.html" target="new">this post</a> (most hits ever) or if you were searching for other oddities like "expensive feet," "waiter fly soup," or "cool steele."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This whole blog thing has taken on a life of it's own. For that, I am blessed. Happy New Year!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Image: </i></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Schiaccia</i></span></span></span><br />
</div>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-24323289481874414322009-12-28T23:10:00.000-06:002009-12-28T23:10:52.073-06:00Mother Love<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I had several posts in my head to write about "Love" for the topic of the <a href="http://www.bridgetchumbley.com/2009/12/love-blog-carnival/">One Word at a Time blog carnival hosted by Bridget Chumbley</a> this week. Try as I might I kept coming back to <i>unconditional parental love</i> and a poem that I was given nearly 20 years ago. I do not know the author, but will credit him/her if anyone happens to know. Unconditional love, like our Father has for us, and like every mother and father has for their children, no matter what.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoTitle" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><b>Mother Love</b></i></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoTitle" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Long, long ago; so I have been told, </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Two mothers once met on the streets paved with gold.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“By the stars in your crown,” said the one to the other, </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“I can see that on earth, you, too, were a Mother.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“And by the blue-tinted halo you wear</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">You, too, have known sorrow and deepest despair.”</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Ah yes,“ she replied, “I once had a son.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A sweet little lad, full of laughter and fun.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“But tell of your child,” -- “Oh, I knew I was blest</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">From the moment I first held him close to my breast,</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And my heart almost burst with the joy of that day.”</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Ah, yes,” said the other, “I felt the same way.”</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The former continued, “The first steps he took</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So eager and breathless—the first startled look</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Which came over his face—he trusted me so….”</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Ah, yes,” sighed the other, “How well do I know.”</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“But soon he had grown to a tall handsome boy,</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So stalwart and kind – and it gave me such joy</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">To have him just walk down the street by my side.”</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Ah, yes, sighed the other, “I felt the same pride.”</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“How often I shielded and spared him from pain.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And when he for others was so cruelly slain, </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When they crucified Him and they spat in His face, </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">How gladly would I have hung there in His place.”</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A moment of silence –“Oh, then you are she—</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The Mother of Christ,” and she fell on one knee;</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But the Blessed One raised her up, drawing her near</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And kissed from the cheek of the woman a tear.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">“Tell me the name of the one you loved so, </span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">That I may share with you your grief and your woe.”</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">She lifted her eyes, looking straight at the other</span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 81pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>“He was Judas Iscariot, I am his mother.”</i> </span><br />
</div>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-46515642357795681162009-12-20T09:56:00.001-06:002009-12-20T10:00:18.856-06:00Grace in Muddy Slush<div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is my account of the </span><a href="http://www.billycoffey.com/2009/12/the-ten-dollar-challenge-continues/" target="new"><span style="font-size: small;">Ten Dollar Challenge</span></a><span style="font-size: small;"> that </span><a href="http://www.billycoffey.com/" target="new"><span style="font-size: small;">Billy Coffey</span></a><span style="font-size: small;"> has presented. Click on the gift icon to read the wonderful stories of the others who have taken Billy up on his challenge.</span></span></i><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><a href="http://www.billycoffey.com/2009/12/the-ten-dollar-challenge-continues/"><br />
<img src="http://i840.photobucket.com/albums/zz329/katdish/10dollarchallenge.gif" /><br />
</a><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It did not turn out how I expected. But that's the nature of <i>our</i> plans. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">At first I wanted this to be an anonymous blessing. Then I had visions of doe-eyed children longing for Christmas toys, or parents lamenting the fact they didn't quite have enough money for their groceries at the check out. I would give them my ten-spot and they would smile and be eternally grateful and I would <i>(wrongly)</i> feel proud and smug.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In my dreams.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I stopped by a convenience store to put gas in my car. Simple enough. I ran my debit card through the pump, was ready to hop in and take off, but decided I'd run in the store quickly to use the facilities before embarking on the remainder of my errands. As I reached for my purse, I saw the designated Ten Dollar Challenge bill sticking out from behind my insurance cards in my billfold. I grabbed it, and stuck it in my jeans pocket. You just never know.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When I returned to my car, there was another car at the pump immediately in front of me. A 30ish woman, looking a bit bedraggled, was pumping gas into an older model car. The car seemed to be in fairly good shape, save for the frayed bungie cord that was holding the trunk lid in place.</span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKroBC7XtXXWX5kOxA13hd9Vo3OSGnPJ8IYJvRFGoHG0gD5zm_4ItWKoutKQJ3bQq-vVpslNS41ZVdiMw2iORT7FXN0VL7iGX0_O3BsLOhVwvKDdrJleFXHk-ln9P39feexWrndGdlDNM/s1600-h/sad-child.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKroBC7XtXXWX5kOxA13hd9Vo3OSGnPJ8IYJvRFGoHG0gD5zm_4ItWKoutKQJ3bQq-vVpslNS41ZVdiMw2iORT7FXN0VL7iGX0_O3BsLOhVwvKDdrJleFXHk-ln9P39feexWrndGdlDNM/s200/sad-child.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The woman's raspy voice was angrily directed at the children in the back seat, but it's the dead of winter and the windows were up. I heard the familiar sounds of sibling rivalry, and saw some arms flailing and heads bobbing. Two, maybe three little heads. Hot-aired screaming children tend to steam up windows, and I really couldn't see clearly.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>"Whew, glad those days are over for me,"</i> I thought to myself.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But they weren't over for Angry Gas Pump Mom. She lurched toward the car, opened the drivers door, and proceeded to launch into a tirade of multiple expletives toward the children. <i>"Shut up." "Leave her alone." "When we get home I'm going to give you an @$$ slap." </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Ouch, it felt to me like she already did.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Those were some of the kinder words. The remainder were more colorful. It was sad, it was ugly, and at first I just wanted to run away. My second thought was to give her a taste of her own medicine, but I had no idea what she had gone through that day. Could have been any number of things.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Besides, I'm a confrontation coward.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I sat in my car and messed with my phone ... thinking. I gathered up a couple of gum wrappers and random receipts, got back out, and threw my trash in the garbage can.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I kept coming back to the fact that nobody should talk to a child that way, no matter what. I could only see them from the very tops of their heads in the back seat of a compact car, so they weren't very old. I was getting really angry with her.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>"<b>Now</b> look what you made me do. You made me go #%#@ over!! Which one of you is going to pay for this ^%#@ gas?"</i> She crossed her hands over her chest and <i>"harumphed"</i> at the steamed up window.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I walked toward the trash, reached in my pocket, and offered up the ten dollar bill.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>"Here. I want you to have this, and may you and your children have a Merry Christmas."</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>"I don't want your #*%+$ money. I can buy my own (#%* gas," </i>she exploded.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>"Oh, it's not for your gas. It's just for you. I just want you to know that I care. And that your children really love and need you. Mine used to drive me bonkers when they were that age, too. In fact, they still do!"</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So much for Mother of the Year <i>this</i> year. Again.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">She pulled her hand away and the bill dropped to the dirty wet slush on the pavement. We both looked down, then our eyes met. I yearned to see hers soften, but it wasn't happening. I shrugged my shoulders, turned, and walked away quickly.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>"Well, if you don't want it, I hope it will bless whoever finds it. That was my intent. Merry Christmas."</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As I slid behind the drivers seat, she was still glaring at me with eyes not unlike her frosted windows. I started my car and drove off. As I pulled to the stop sign on the access road, I glanced back. It didn't appear that she had moved.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I have no idea if she took the money. When a gift of grace falls into the muddy slush of winter, is it still grace?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Yes, grace can be really muddy sometimes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And it just might make you cry all the way to Target.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(Image: Photobucket)</span></span>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-6017983328549072552009-12-19T06:44:00.000-06:002009-12-19T06:44:31.294-06:00Christmas Stories<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Our house is as decorated as it's going to be this year. In other words, the tree is up.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And every ornament tells a story.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Friends I miss</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRolIqU2ekadkYWkbrGIKVcunuU-KcFdsedoyTD4aNF7YiI4qcrA7ZErDCnwiTez00TiWjF1LuQy71AeU82XdBW3dsXqDYRanezvdiK4rpD4kt1SU_Zg3cNtxNt-XjBczK-tdyJhAIwpo/s1600-h/IMG_0868.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRolIqU2ekadkYWkbrGIKVcunuU-KcFdsedoyTD4aNF7YiI4qcrA7ZErDCnwiTez00TiWjF1LuQy71AeU82XdBW3dsXqDYRanezvdiK4rpD4kt1SU_Zg3cNtxNt-XjBczK-tdyJhAIwpo/s320/IMG_0868.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A reminder of <a href="http://www.steeletheday.com/2009/06/love-from-luckypuppy-at-bridge.html" target="new">LuckyPuppy at the Rainbow Bridge</a></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zBbeAmgt1ejMl9Xks8I4cX_ixQXUJfRrzhL4aN59-8OenPV-6TtsO7kUTWr6yN9LUs4xKSl_JZP03W6Sgn2v26I3znlMEW9KehaPB4yzDzhSemRZa8u3rTSNGjZX5adzqLLYJ-QjiNk/s1600-h/IMG_0880.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zBbeAmgt1ejMl9Xks8I4cX_ixQXUJfRrzhL4aN59-8OenPV-6TtsO7kUTWr6yN9LUs4xKSl_JZP03W6Sgn2v26I3znlMEW9KehaPB4yzDzhSemRZa8u3rTSNGjZX5adzqLLYJ-QjiNk/s320/IMG_0880.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A First Christmas</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicLU15-UebcMPg-5zEAsf3iE7mWiuHWHckc1uWSMdr3BPUqjHFa0JS7S-te8zq1vUyg84Tc7RCFFYsGov6kjI-h6LxNh4jDw6Y6UnhEchB3n_ycv0TYShOuULCU1amoXGo_1boec-Cv-I/s1600-h/IMG_0869.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicLU15-UebcMPg-5zEAsf3iE7mWiuHWHckc1uWSMdr3BPUqjHFa0JS7S-te8zq1vUyg84Tc7RCFFYsGov6kjI-h6LxNh4jDw6Y6UnhEchB3n_ycv0TYShOuULCU1amoXGo_1boec-Cv-I/s320/IMG_0869.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Proud Gifts to Mom and Dad</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUX8X6XD7l1PU8bMAQ6N9jjlkBEJIaxaIZvx4O2hT37Gw7-OipQRX2aluxBfdA0MFBdaiJD395Vg0X_rCUCmP8LjySjAzFIF7ZisRNI58uUAyixUyAEDjUuK5sYdyAR_sBO-UMT2hhEQ/s1600-h/IMG_0876.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUX8X6XD7l1PU8bMAQ6N9jjlkBEJIaxaIZvx4O2hT37Gw7-OipQRX2aluxBfdA0MFBdaiJD395Vg0X_rCUCmP8LjySjAzFIF7ZisRNI58uUAyixUyAEDjUuK5sYdyAR_sBO-UMT2hhEQ/s320/IMG_0876.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Nurse Mom to the rescue. Some of these we've had since Shep was a pup - if we'd had a pup named Shep, that is.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgakcSo8oYeXV7LjleNl-sP-r9YOl_Q6aQxboTnIoR_0rhVDB1SBbFFF_VjlFtSjhdgTpuWohwvwWGifiTnPF7vv9KUn_Yqdulz-g7OBi8aq62buLwVhLDeiV5LxbsD6jnRE9Iu6l0fIpQ/s1600-h/IMG_0865.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgakcSo8oYeXV7LjleNl-sP-r9YOl_Q6aQxboTnIoR_0rhVDB1SBbFFF_VjlFtSjhdgTpuWohwvwWGifiTnPF7vv9KUn_Yqdulz-g7OBi8aq62buLwVhLDeiV5LxbsD6jnRE9Iu6l0fIpQ/s320/IMG_0865.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8lb4YHPMIa4-REuw4KX5LtcCZXugsI7mfXgOFrhGYiWa_80r1AD2nf7nh0hQgOELMwOBVp8ad3YkEezYmjCJ89sj2JyD6jOtPqmZ63LusYN1LpuCMSrssGUhVGv1ESZLxanoxKPRH8io/s1600-h/IMG_0874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8lb4YHPMIa4-REuw4KX5LtcCZXugsI7mfXgOFrhGYiWa_80r1AD2nf7nh0hQgOELMwOBVp8ad3YkEezYmjCJ89sj2JyD6jOtPqmZ63LusYN1LpuCMSrssGUhVGv1ESZLxanoxKPRH8io/s320/IMG_0874.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">That was a good year - First Baby, First Christmas.<br />
</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVG-hRbWhSwpED3if0kWRPdMjCM_FSf3CZUrKh6-0G5XFnKn3SJrBCo28tIV9GrVLjzmXxA7TOYXlDvCTUyZb9XXUhFTnMCsbebOUrKT_aL36kTsJhEf_owHtmPSbsRH76uzlSJcxkd3I/s1600-h/IMG_0871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVG-hRbWhSwpED3if0kWRPdMjCM_FSf3CZUrKh6-0G5XFnKn3SJrBCo28tIV9GrVLjzmXxA7TOYXlDvCTUyZb9XXUhFTnMCsbebOUrKT_aL36kTsJhEf_owHtmPSbsRH76uzlSJcxkd3I/s320/IMG_0871.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Our wedding cake topper turned into Best Christmas Decoration Ever</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANV5eKBgi-tYtJQY5gHJztNTlQm-W2thwVOmr81oBn0wf-NDrxoM2bH-F409r1DGSmZ9b2sHi-kA7nT5uIyfjcCbdlA7RtcpSFTBvYg-ZvtW-YguPBK6ASIxEnh3phuvyGP5t-oeF1UA/s1600-h/IMG_0899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgANV5eKBgi-tYtJQY5gHJztNTlQm-W2thwVOmr81oBn0wf-NDrxoM2bH-F409r1DGSmZ9b2sHi-kA7nT5uIyfjcCbdlA7RtcpSFTBvYg-ZvtW-YguPBK6ASIxEnh3phuvyGP5t-oeF1UA/s320/IMG_0899.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And who could ever forget a lispy three year old's precious voice when we set this one up 30 years ago..</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Mom! It-th Mary, Jopheth, and JC Penney!"</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_v4XBOAXfDix6rfWFw7HxtaPQeFusIOAJBx3nCesZv4qNq4tpPvCsvNZXqYy6AZGoMacov_zcknv4ZuVt67WwCvDIMulELYbN3NLlGJkWvhEnTqjnXYn44yvxP903Yc_wD0mNHDe4PQ/s1600-h/IMG_0898.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_v4XBOAXfDix6rfWFw7HxtaPQeFusIOAJBx3nCesZv4qNq4tpPvCsvNZXqYy6AZGoMacov_zcknv4ZuVt67WwCvDIMulELYbN3NLlGJkWvhEnTqjnXYn44yvxP903Yc_wD0mNHDe4PQ/s320/IMG_0898.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">May your dayth be pleathant and brite.</span></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Just don't shoot your eye out.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2JNRyQd4heIgO1jGTwNbAAhGYxanTdqa4WKCiiPx4m7Jf7ZlXupl4VMARwdRMqJrUCWN2tfTmmbxV54E1ba10Ss5OduQnydkWw8wuzB-r6BCCUZRjCmtDP7X-GgCpTneb18tQToPIDUk/s1600-h/IMG_0896.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2JNRyQd4heIgO1jGTwNbAAhGYxanTdqa4WKCiiPx4m7Jf7ZlXupl4VMARwdRMqJrUCWN2tfTmmbxV54E1ba10Ss5OduQnydkWw8wuzB-r6BCCUZRjCmtDP7X-GgCpTneb18tQToPIDUk/s320/IMG_0896.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Tea today: Dragonwell</span><br />
</div>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-35226456630023481442009-12-15T07:28:00.002-06:002009-12-15T07:32:03.633-06:00Here is the Church, Here is the Steeple...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0UkEtx6nhQWKjD1E4GECJ1pm2_U2c_h2M6d_cBheq9DswbPzMNFrFVr02-w3o2eNU9RCBqLNocDptjdXx1t1InuqZ2wZzk9pBbhhy_iSyi_0epG-y2hUix1eAiKjzP25RSt36l6Kzhf8/s1600-h/HerestheChurch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0UkEtx6nhQWKjD1E4GECJ1pm2_U2c_h2M6d_cBheq9DswbPzMNFrFVr02-w3o2eNU9RCBqLNocDptjdXx1t1InuqZ2wZzk9pBbhhy_iSyi_0epG-y2hUix1eAiKjzP25RSt36l6Kzhf8/s320/HerestheChurch.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Here is the church</i></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Here is the steeple</i></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Open the doors</i></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>And see all the people.</i></span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It's a childhood finger rhyme that takes me back more than a couple dozen years. Pudgy fingers wrangling to point and intertwine and form the church in the way it was intended. Little fingers representing people, working together, pushing against each other, wrapping around each other, interlocking, and being the church only because all of the people-parts are working together for the One True Glory.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When the people of the right hand and the people of the left hand don't work together, the church falls into a mass of tangled finger people. And when the hands are flailing ghost-like in the air, seemingly attached to nothing, the church flounders. Gasps a few agonal breaths, then dies.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Our church has recently been divided by, of all things, the governing body of it's denomination. A vote was cast where nobody wins.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Not God. Not us.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Yet we still yearn to open the doors and see all the people. Together.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We are confused, broken, struggling finger-people who were bound together by the love of Christ for decades, and are now torn apart by the very entity that was intended to bring us together.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I have one request today - will you pray for my church?</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><blockquote><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This post is a part of the </span><a href="http://www.bridgetchumbley.com/2009/12/church-blog-carnival/" target="new"><span style="color: red;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"One Word at a Time" Blog Carnival</span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> hosted by Bridget Chumbley. Stop by and visit other contributions on "church." And bring some kleenex - she's got herself a bit of the flu this week.</span><br />
</blockquote><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Tea today: Tazo Joy</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Image: PhotoBucket</span></i></span><br />
</div>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-24637360130119254512009-12-12T05:36:00.003-06:002009-12-12T14:03:28.634-06:00Adrift<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhkC8vGyn-84Qqu3qnXOVIB2c9GSlmUTZwqGBGyPHsOhLn1lEXLObFSrMw9UogTkNTKO5aj4CquxKj77i320NPwqcq_OTbDo-dSGn4fpMLo1n3WdoR7LZzu7ZCpDJVGp1ArS0kJ4Kb7dI/s1600-h/IMG_0860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhkC8vGyn-84Qqu3qnXOVIB2c9GSlmUTZwqGBGyPHsOhLn1lEXLObFSrMw9UogTkNTKO5aj4CquxKj77i320NPwqcq_OTbDo-dSGn4fpMLo1n3WdoR7LZzu7ZCpDJVGp1ArS0kJ4Kb7dI/s320/IMG_0860.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When a paralyzing snow storm comes our way, it freezes you in your tracks. Literally and figuratively. We know it's coming, we have the non-stop "weather crawl" on TV to warn us, the shift in barometric pressure alters our moods and our physical senses, and there's a swelling-up of that calm-before-the-storm that centers in your chest. We're used to it in Iowa, and when we had children at home, I was always prepared.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Cookies. Hot chocolate. Mac & cheese. Goulash. <i>Entertain the kids. Avoid hearing "I'm bored" at all costs.</i></span><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This storm was no surprise. <i>"Biggest of the decade,"</i> <a href="http://www.kwwl.com/Global/category.asp?C=128860&nav=menu82_3" target="new">my favorite weathermen</a> told me. That can only mean one thing in Iowa. You'd better buy bread and milk. And lots of it. I never quite understood that "milk sandwich" thing, but I usually just do what the guy ahead of me in line at Fareway does.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Until that day.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I left work irresponsibly later than I should have for a stormy day, and the evening was already wrapped in full white garb. The white skies were peacefully eerie in the dark. Streets were covered, businesses closed, and respectful white-knuckled drivers were headed with trepidation to their destination.</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I stopped at the grocery store, only because I could. I knew not what to buy. Our refrigerator was on the blink, so "stocking up" was pointless. I'd just thrown out an unopened bottle of milk the day before, and chastised myself that I hadn't caught it sooner and thrown it in a cooler.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I left the store with bananas, an onion, two sweet potatoes, and three grapefruit. Storm patrol at it's finest. My mind was simply adrift along with the storm. You really don't need to think much when you're driving 20 mph.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The drifts blanketing our yard and sub-zero temperatures would not let me keep refrigerator food - like fresh vegetables, yogurt, and eggs - unfrozen. The garage hovered around 42 degrees - for now. The freezer was chock-full with everything that could be frozen that had been rescued from the fridge. Two big containers of freshly-made soup sat on the garage floor, but I was hesitant to eat the beef noodle - it had never really cooled from its initial preparation before my fridge met it's maker <i>("Hello, Amana, I'm home")</i>. The black bean was a different story. My jalapeño passion would kill anything.</span><br />
<br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Hating to waste anything remotely related to red meat, Ron Burgundy decided he'd try the beef soup anyway. Brave man, always going ahead of us to sense out danger. It was apparently fine, but I left it for him, knowing I wouldn't be cooking much the rest of the week. <i>(And I also know bacteria will grow in 42 degrees). </i>Other than my sparse grocery purchases, I was left with 3 of the four food groups: frozen, canned, and preserved. I could make do.</span><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The official snow day came as predicted. I was imprisoned by beautifully sculpted 3 foot drifts in the driveway. The laundry and de-cluttering was done, except for the most obvious things I don't mess with:</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The yard art in the family room in various stages of re-stringing, which prevented me from cleaning that room prior to assembling the Christmas tree</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4yugIkG-Hbd6C4b2i75zJwVGtYllptzt0V473Pr3sEmBbVLdl8YBV6N5YgT4G5Y3F5NQhE_3EC7gO5tZXdYcfk9jN5CXq7sklX6pBajLUPLUYc7UBB_ovBdK51t08px_sL6KCr_C57_8/s1600-h/yardart.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4yugIkG-Hbd6C4b2i75zJwVGtYllptzt0V473Pr3sEmBbVLdl8YBV6N5YgT4G5Y3F5NQhE_3EC7gO5tZXdYcfk9jN5CXq7sklX6pBajLUPLUYc7UBB_ovBdK51t08px_sL6KCr_C57_8/s320/yardart.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">the kitchen desk containing very important things that cannot be lost and must not be moved</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQp_Db6p-lbq950m7mo0vs50oZZINTmtL0WXqgTJkEyfuU3yr0Rx7fCLs6JgswAip5UdS3KHuKjH5G201Wv8U7QM4q9PbhO6ySD_oExDkYF-b4XPVLUPX4sonlEvbz6RulGeYKEhvysZc/s1600-h/IMG_0861.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQp_Db6p-lbq950m7mo0vs50oZZINTmtL0WXqgTJkEyfuU3yr0Rx7fCLs6JgswAip5UdS3KHuKjH5G201Wv8U7QM4q9PbhO6ySD_oExDkYF-b4XPVLUPX4sonlEvbz6RulGeYKEhvysZc/s320/IMG_0861.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> or the den-turned-computer-room-turned-editing-studio with strategically-placed video cassettes, DVDs, and yards of firewire</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5LdJ6ppVEtFS9DTPSsF1ARpUp-31Ke4rWkexpREgqBywAchWfhIhM5DIakPQjGO1Oaza0lcMYunfIzZU8CuJsgbJz0wTwh3gVJSY8gRU3zVGjkUho9LNkceDsjMw3DAgKgQbLU71F6T8/s1600-h/IMG_0862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5LdJ6ppVEtFS9DTPSsF1ARpUp-31Ke4rWkexpREgqBywAchWfhIhM5DIakPQjGO1Oaza0lcMYunfIzZU8CuJsgbJz0wTwh3gVJSY8gRU3zVGjkUho9LNkceDsjMw3DAgKgQbLU71F6T8/s320/IMG_0862.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Disorganized clutter is certainly a spiritual gift for a certain few in my family, and I decided not too long ago it's not the hill I want to die on.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I was paralyzed. Literally, nothing to do except read or work on the projects I hauled home from the office <i>(bleh)</i>. I entertained the idea of making cookies, but nearly every recipe called for sugar. <i>(Obviously I don't bake much).</i> I found 1/3 cup in the container, a recipe for Snickerdoodles, cut it in thirds, and made a batch for RB to enjoy with his <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">salmonella</span> beef soup. I found myself adrift on the internet, but with my email down, it was difficult to communicate. I couldn't make any calls out of our area, because our new cell service does not work in our house <i>(huh? SprintFail)</i>, so there was no catching up with out-of-towners. It was a good day to shop online, but I had not one clue what to get anyone. My trusty little book collection was lulling me to sleep.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I made lists. I love lists. They offer hope and plans and tomorrow.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I enjoyed the solitude, staring at the beautifully formed drifts in the yard.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I read Scripture and caught up on podcasts.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I did a couple of online yoga sessions, for which my back was grateful.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I baked a sweet potato.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A wise person once told me "only boring people get bored." That was assurance that I wasn't boring, but Snickers didn't seem too bored either, and she is the epitome of boring. Besides, she thinks yoga is dumb (and for dogs).</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2tpjazB31AociPbvw_sdWfTCdgrkNTM2AjuCSnCPAfcEPS8P6Aza2bwno-EVwSQw8IytlJ3UqBuqyIH9Ebdnu7Q0SPfaAPrO48TCwhyphenhyphenX3PZLkyPDlDs-mWB5BlTKZ4TDIRJtr7-RizaM/s1600-h/IMG_0626.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2tpjazB31AociPbvw_sdWfTCdgrkNTM2AjuCSnCPAfcEPS8P6Aza2bwno-EVwSQw8IytlJ3UqBuqyIH9Ebdnu7Q0SPfaAPrO48TCwhyphenhyphenX3PZLkyPDlDs-mWB5BlTKZ4TDIRJtr7-RizaM/s320/IMG_0626.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
</div><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It was most certainly a day the Lord had made, and I loved every minute of it. Adrift among the drifts.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Am I the only one who can enjoy a day like that and not feel restless or bored?</span><br />
</div></div>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-40575395871842626332009-12-06T09:40:00.000-06:002009-12-06T09:40:14.280-06:00Awaiting My Ten Dollar Challenge<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.billycoffey.com/2009/12/the-ten-dollar-challenge-continues/"><img src="http://i840.photobucket.com/albums/zz329/katdish/10dollarchallenge.gif" /><br />
</a><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Last week, <a href="http://www.billycoffey.com/about/" target="new">Billy Coffey</a> posed the <a href="http://www.billycoffey.com/2009/12/the-ten-dollar-challenge-continues/" target="new">Ten Dollar Challenge</a> to all of us, so on a brief trip to the grocery store, I got $10 back on my debit card, and tucked it away in a safe place. I was waiting for the opportunity to bless someone with this ten-spot.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today, I'm still waiting.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Interesting, the Advent series at <a href="http://www.prairielakeschurch.org/get-connected/default.aspx" target="new">church</a> has been about <i>"Waiting..."</i> And I'm not a very good waiter.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Impatient.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Anxious.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Tired of waiting for things to happen. You know, on <i>my</i> timetable. It's been good for me to understand the whole concept of waiting in the scripture. Waiting in faith, and understanding that in God's silence, He's doing His work. He's attempting to align my desires and dreams with His. My job is to remain faithful while waiting.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Hurry up, Big Guy.</i> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It's not like I didn't have the opportunity for that ten dollars this week. There was a guy in front of me at the convenience store buying milk, jerky, and cigarettes who didn't have enough money, and had to clumsily write a check. Judgemental of me, I know (it was <i>whole</i> milk)! Just couldn't do it. There was the donation bucket at the hospital cafeteria for someone with an ill child. I walked right past it. I can't explain why. Was it wrong? I don't know.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I even entertained the idea of blessing myself with carry-out sushi. It had been a long week and not an easy week at work, and I deserved it, didn't I? <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I can't believe I just admitted that.</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i></i></span>But I didn't feel really led to do that either.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm still waiting for that opportunity to bless someone with this ten bucks, and I'm certain the opportunity will come. Is it my fear that this kind act will go unnoticed? I hope not. What I have in the back of my mind is that I want this to be only between me, the person I give it to, and God. Nobody else.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Except the entire blogosphere (Billy's the boss of me on this) - but hopefully I will have a story that will bless you as well.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But these things are not on our timetable, are they? So I wait...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Will you take the <a href="http://www.billycoffey.com/2009/12/the-ten-dollar-challenge-continues/">Ten Dollar Challenge</a>? If you do, please sign the linked list on Billy's page, and leave me a comment about how God used you and your ten spot.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I know the time will come.</span>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-1659638142991481512009-11-30T05:30:00.001-06:002009-12-01T07:41:36.603-06:00The Greatest Kind of Grief<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Time again for the "One Word at a Time" blog carnival with our host, </i><a href="http://blog.hafchurch.org/peter/" target="new"><i>Peter Pollock</i></a><i>. Stop by his blog and join us!</i></span><br />
</div><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Grief.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">If given the choice, none of us would probably choose to experience grief in even it's simplest form. It assumes loss - loss of life, loss of health, even the loss of our sense of self.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxhyphenhyphenf3XZwxMo2dE1_YiGzBQnj7UDoeiBgJW8sa2srOvM5FEBg9FGCe2MXB775VThe0V0YLUuy9p4Om7ASZESHVzGADYwFONnRjFQGfGWzrl6JAfi8IexFUJ45dQd97LuKXaRVOCwbxFbM/s1600/tear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxhyphenhyphenf3XZwxMo2dE1_YiGzBQnj7UDoeiBgJW8sa2srOvM5FEBg9FGCe2MXB775VThe0V0YLUuy9p4Om7ASZESHVzGADYwFONnRjFQGfGWzrl6JAfi8IexFUJ45dQd97LuKXaRVOCwbxFbM/s200/tear.jpg" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It is impossible to avoid, foolish to deny, yet inevitable for growth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Grief chooses us, but it doesn't mean we must live in it's grip.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">At the risk of sounding insensitive, I can't completely grasp the concept of prolonged grief when someone dies. Many people close to me have died - my father, my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends. It was sad. I cried. But to me, after a short period of mourning, death loses it's sting because of what my faith tells me. I won't deny the occasional thought of a sad memory that conjures up feelings and tears of missing them, but <i>grief</i><i>?</i> Not so much.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">In the words of the venerable Dr. Seuss:</span><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened.</span> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><span style="font-size: small;">Please, God, don't test me in these thoughts.</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">To me, the greatest grief is the loss of a real-life relationship. When bitterness and envy and greed enter into hearts and harden them. When understandings fade. When closeness separates. When opinions collide in a broken heap of rudeness, pride, mockery, and jealousy. Where laughter ceases and tears begin. Trust pales. This is where I find the greatest grief, because it has a way of hanging around, dancing this vicious circle in our hearts and heads, allowing the enemy the next dance.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">There <i>must</i> be some good in grief. I don't believe for one minute that God created such a potent emotion without purpose. He will fix the broken, mend the torn, and bestow the grace that comes with His abundant love. The "good" in grief?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It brings us to our knees as we cry out and bare our souls to the One who loves us the most. And I have no doubt that in our angst, He cries right beside us, wanting our relationship with Him restored as well. Wanting <i>all</i> relationships restored. He wept, but His work did not stop there. Ours must not either.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4a440e; font-family: Arial, Verdana, 'Tahoma sans-serif'; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; line-height: 19px;">Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #4a440e; font-family: Arial, Verdana, 'Tahoma sans-serif';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><b><i>Matthew 5:4</i></b></span></span><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tea today: green with pomegranate</span></span>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-11427098518032298462009-11-26T11:14:00.000-06:002009-11-26T11:14:30.280-06:00Gratitude<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today I'm grateful for the fabulous colors of fall that will all-too-soon be covered with downy snow blankets.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQWDXq9_-Uw_kU3qIEwVhYV3qPnFloaOQhozMi6Q7Ir0sasQHKRunCNlKpxsLDVEvNnIAYxf_8oflGvA8WHnjXTFLteuhfTQCT4PPaR_MW5AGp2je7cWNKj7NNBSIt_EAsXR-qtCXxzGg/s1600/IMG_0762.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQWDXq9_-Uw_kU3qIEwVhYV3qPnFloaOQhozMi6Q7Ir0sasQHKRunCNlKpxsLDVEvNnIAYxf_8oflGvA8WHnjXTFLteuhfTQCT4PPaR_MW5AGp2je7cWNKj7NNBSIt_EAsXR-qtCXxzGg/s320/IMG_0762.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">May we enjoy the autumnal beauty as it is, in this moment.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcisuD40jM26LpoBR8swi8JTxVp6oJPtADNn6j2CheWu8fFG6VYvuKw6E8yom5bv2ad32Euwu_w18d0drzl9Zi7vTKd1AmzZyEgn684MBaMt5v4i6bCJDEdpyz709Oehw15lkUhNtgfcg/s1600/IMG_0800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcisuD40jM26LpoBR8swi8JTxVp6oJPtADNn6j2CheWu8fFG6VYvuKw6E8yom5bv2ad32Euwu_w18d0drzl9Zi7vTKd1AmzZyEgn684MBaMt5v4i6bCJDEdpyz709Oehw15lkUhNtgfcg/s320/IMG_0800.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The leaves turn.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkF9LYZAVcSNUWSJ4v1GoOH7IsPuFLyBI13rhHTyPRxzP8PYpB3LRE5uJwDofK3IdaNWfT_sFbNEbYxxWdxkIBw7BCScyo6qiiXBOraK5SvHXYPkTWQOfmSHDb8j_ix3Mi0L5h7h7zDhE/s1600/IMG_0808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkF9LYZAVcSNUWSJ4v1GoOH7IsPuFLyBI13rhHTyPRxzP8PYpB3LRE5uJwDofK3IdaNWfT_sFbNEbYxxWdxkIBw7BCScyo6qiiXBOraK5SvHXYPkTWQOfmSHDb8j_ix3Mi0L5h7h7zDhE/s320/IMG_0808.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The leaves fall.</span><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoHOkimejhFdAV0F-DO5X5McLbRKuZQkiSM77agKOdMC-lGly1EnPoG293wV6DMHkgxDnxABSZ0rURxcqXtWy448fzcW3PLSeZGxQSDEA9KP84ebgtoKqEZyRL5_ZDT6SqCQzUdXSxTdc/s1600/IMG_0807.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoHOkimejhFdAV0F-DO5X5McLbRKuZQkiSM77agKOdMC-lGly1EnPoG293wV6DMHkgxDnxABSZ0rURxcqXtWy448fzcW3PLSeZGxQSDEA9KP84ebgtoKqEZyRL5_ZDT6SqCQzUdXSxTdc/s320/IMG_0807.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The flowers fade.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Sometimes more than we like.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTIJyIzsET654_RJvh_4ShWxBgMFId3oY7TREuZ0LgxwWs_7tRcnf8teFoXtIdfRfmUPow9CqcxgfhYlbYR0YrVjJWu2nnxdhk0BhUBxpsrP4l-8-gfB7XSiBnrpSFZcHcSBs1CUmVYM8/s1600/IMG_0803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTIJyIzsET654_RJvh_4ShWxBgMFId3oY7TREuZ0LgxwWs_7tRcnf8teFoXtIdfRfmUPow9CqcxgfhYlbYR0YrVjJWu2nnxdhk0BhUBxpsrP4l-8-gfB7XSiBnrpSFZcHcSBs1CUmVYM8/s320/IMG_0803.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But the Word lasts forever with promises, preparing for the next season.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgho47sUjwYN6-UuIRSygqh2DdlXBRoyxhqbwnqcAMb3arH1qUuM23HjivQtkavt8lAuNCoAAUa6mBtnAEtYZBBgK3gGP7IxJxHJjklUwnaGFD8jC-AYSCPh9kAox6a6TZf8auRprQ8j18/s1600/IMG_0811.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgho47sUjwYN6-UuIRSygqh2DdlXBRoyxhqbwnqcAMb3arH1qUuM23HjivQtkavt8lAuNCoAAUa6mBtnAEtYZBBgK3gGP7IxJxHJjklUwnaGFD8jC-AYSCPh9kAox6a6TZf8auRprQ8j18/s320/IMG_0811.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I am grateful for His promises.</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4a440e; font-family: Arial, Verdana, 'Tahoma sans-serif'; line-height: 19px;"><i>Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.</i></span></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #4a440e; font-family: Arial, Verdana, 'Tahoma sans-serif'; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #130f00; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; line-height: normal;"><i>~1 Thessalonians 5:18~</i></span></span></span><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tea today: Tazo Zen</span></span><br />
</div>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-62977503239164206092009-11-22T23:39:00.005-06:002009-11-23T00:09:49.676-06:00The Pomegranate Within<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">By now most of my friends know I'm ga-ga over pomegranates. I could go on and on about the nutritional benefits, the beauty of the fruit, the biblical references, and even where the best deals are in my town. I'll spare you.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Most would choose a fruit that looks like these. Symmetrical, shiny, firm, heavy for it's size, and of course, the <a href="http://pomwonderful.com/" target="new">POM Wonderful</a> brand, which IMHO, is the only real pom there is in existence. No, POM didn't pay me to say that. But I did win a free bottle of juice in their <a href="http://twitter.com/CandySteele/status/5876216249" target="new">Twitter contest</a> last week. That alone is enough to be on the Twitter bus. And I didn't even sleep in a Holiday Inn Express. </span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaA_IjCeacAr5SCvNBduHFeGNY-bS1Ph_0JnercbrXWJRmrmbL3mPaYKyqzQKQgVsnOtM5WEs1AgHBDdsIWTBsrWqI9hOPu4r9-y__h5Jfnjj5bhr9ZlhWDfSq6DttG3j5tyvdSo2Wbf8/s1600/POM" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaA_IjCeacAr5SCvNBduHFeGNY-bS1Ph_0JnercbrXWJRmrmbL3mPaYKyqzQKQgVsnOtM5WEs1AgHBDdsIWTBsrWqI9hOPu4r9-y__h5Jfnjj5bhr9ZlhWDfSq6DttG3j5tyvdSo2Wbf8/s200/POM" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I got these a week or so ago. (The pom is the fruit on the left, for those of you who are produce-challenged). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">At the store Thursday night I saw the most shabby, pathetic bin of POMs I've ever laid eyes on. They were shriveled, had lost all roundness, were peppered with sunken, dark spots, and the rind was thin and hard. There was nothing pretty or appealing about them, other than I knew they had probably once looked more beautiful. Some of them were actually cracked open. I was, as usual, drawn to the bin. I looked them over, and thought that if I just bought one, I wouldn't be out that much, there might be some decent arils deep into the fruit, and could have my pom fix for the day. Sucker, I know.</span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWvLm9PXytdyl_I74oJNUbWiSSl06_adJpYX0AfL286F43v1x7tCTu-7BwHexM8WIb5JJItzutHOUDYFJ3FzAEJEF5TB6pbeKNqjxc5Kl8kye9OvHYZqudfsCy2wIdmQwr5ZpU9bnhvQ/s1600/IMG_0777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWvLm9PXytdyl_I74oJNUbWiSSl06_adJpYX0AfL286F43v1x7tCTu-7BwHexM8WIb5JJItzutHOUDYFJ3FzAEJEF5TB6pbeKNqjxc5Kl8kye9OvHYZqudfsCy2wIdmQwr5ZpU9bnhvQ/s320/IMG_0777.JPG" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">What a blessing that pitiful thing turned out to be! It was one of the most delicious, sweet poms I'd ever enjoyed, As I cut through the rind, a few squirts from the deep ruby-red arils greeted me. The juice was so dark, it was almost purple. There were maybe 10 bad arils in the entire fruit. Legend has it there are exactly 840 of them in every fruit. It was nearly perfect.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">If one can have a spiritual, out-of-body experience eating a fruit, then I did. Or the crazies had struck. I'm going with the former.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Surely this is how God sees us. To others (and sometimes ourselves), we're cracked, bruised, thin-skinned, and not so pretty. To Him, we are perfect, from the inside out. Fearfully and wonderfully made. And He longs for us to burst forth with the joy he has put deep inside of us, putting aside all the the things on the outside that cover us, haunt us, and keep us from living the life He designed us to live.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I just knew that pomegranate was destined for bigger things than the broken-down produce bin at Walmart. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">So am I. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tea tonight: Green with lemongrass</span></span>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-15879688927168019962009-11-19T20:33:00.000-06:002009-11-19T20:33:12.808-06:00Belated Honest Scrap<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nuxf4KUWjjc/SwXsxrcrgkI/AAAAAAAABWI/KlSfQqaycgg/s1600/HonestScrapAward.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_nuxf4KUWjjc/SwXsxrcrgkI/AAAAAAAABWI/KlSfQqaycgg/s200/HonestScrapAward.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Thanks to Alix over at <a href="http://casahice.blogspot.com/" target="new">Casa Hice</a> for bestowing upon me the Honest Scrap Award many weeks ago. I don't do awards well, and am grateful for the acknowledgment. Alix is one of the sweetest and funniest people you could meet, if you could meet her that is. Which I haven't. But I feel like I've known her most of my life.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Thank you, friend. Thankyouverymuch.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Honest Scrap rules require that I list ten honest things about myself, and then I have to pass it on to seven people with blogs that I find brilliant in content and/or design, or those who have encouraged me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm well aware that many of my favorite bloggers don't "do" awards, so don't be surprised if this doesn't appear in their blogs, but do me a huge favor and drop by their cyberhomes. They are certainly worthy of visiting.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My 10 honest things:</span><br />
<ol><li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Just because I cry, it doesn't mean I'm sad. It means that emotion is my spiritual gift, which I have not yet learned to either contain or gracefully embrace. Short of a coma, I probably won't be cured of this.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My co-workers think I'm a lot smarter than I really am. I'm an idiot savant, but for work purposes, the "savant" part is all that matters.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I can and do forgive very easily, but unless you're repentant, I may have a hard time forgetting. Being sorry without repentance means you keep reminding me <i>because it keeps happening.</i></span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Finding pleasure in solitude is one of the most wonderful gifts God gives me.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">My faith is an exercise in "use it or lose it." And the more I practice, the better I get. I need more practice.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I never see a little girl with long hair without thinking of my own and remembering the smell of her hair. And usually tearing up (see #1).</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When I walk by the giant bags of cereal at the grocery store, I miss my boys (see #1).</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I have been to a mall once since January, and only out of necessity of an undergarment. Yup, just one. 'Nuf said.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Bad table manners are like fingers on a chalkboard to me. I'm not a dining snob. Please, don't make inappropriate noises and eat like it's the last meal you'll ever have. Because if you get really gross, it just might be.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I absolutely, totally, and undeniably love to cook, especially concoctions that call for 10 or more ingredients and lots of chopping. I love my knives. Be very afraid. </span></li>
</ol><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm supposed to pass this along to seven others. I hate to pick seven, because I love more than seven - I love everyone on my blogroll. Starters: <a href="http://redclaydiaries.com/">Hysterical Steph</a>. <a href="http://katdish.blogspot.com/">Random Katdish</a>. <a href="http://www.billycoffey.com/">Deep thoughts Billy Coffey</a>. <a href="http://gitzengirl.blogspot.com/">Strong and courageous Gitz</a>. <a href="http://buzzbyannies.blogspot.com/">Boz my favorite dog, and his "mom" Annie</a>. <a href="http://blog.hafchurch.org/peter/">Encouraging Peter</a> (who even made me a special <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xkXlM8Ucq8M">video</a> - check out that accent!). <a href="http://food-with-style.blogspot.com/">Food with Style</a> (oh my, <i>just look at that food - you won't find a ham sandwich there</i>)!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The problem with these gifts is that I've left of at least a dozen of my favorite bloggers, all of whom I find gracious, encouraging and who make my day. But I have to stop and peel a pomegranate.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Because every quick fruit snack should require a sharp knife, a big bowl of water, a strainer, a stack of paper towels, and 20 minutes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Just bein' honest.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tea today: Jasmine</span></span>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-17509756169808595442009-11-17T06:11:00.007-06:002009-11-17T06:25:57.969-06:00A Yellow Fuzzy Community<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We were a community of sorts</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A baker's dozen, a horde of hapless hormones</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">An odd group to the unknowing</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Different backgrounds, marital status</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> ...life callings, financial peace (or not so much)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Some collected degrees</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And there were GEDs</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Professionals and service workers</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Homemakers and factory workers</span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Some sported the latest Michael Kors or Coach bags</span><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Others were perfectly content with half-price Target satchels</span><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Or a daughter's cast-off purse from middle school</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Our bags did not define us.</span><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Some of us held deep love for our Lord</span><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzkF5Z4qxJb7wPzoo2vl3L5uabuEbslQkiCGeX1gDI0JGIHBurXoSrCo11C6RT0T16u2RFwqVcTixpr3sVtyrOXHa6XUP5RMICv80HufZ6oyXpeF5zzCmLZ095YP0EsIkVl5agL_yqUHA/s1600/ballcourt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzkF5Z4qxJb7wPzoo2vl3L5uabuEbslQkiCGeX1gDI0JGIHBurXoSrCo11C6RT0T16u2RFwqVcTixpr3sVtyrOXHa6XUP5RMICv80HufZ6oyXpeF5zzCmLZ095YP0EsIkVl5agL_yqUHA/s320/ballcourt.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzkF5Z4qxJb7wPzoo2vl3L5uabuEbslQkiCGeX1gDI0JGIHBurXoSrCo11C6RT0T16u2RFwqVcTixpr3sVtyrOXHa6XUP5RMICv80HufZ6oyXpeF5zzCmLZ095YP0EsIkVl5agL_yqUHA/s1600-h/ballcourt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span></a><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Others questioned His existence</span><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">But there was never discord</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The little we held in common</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Most notably</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A passion for the game</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And four years of college eligibility</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Melded us together as a community.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Expectant acceptance</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Peace and ease.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We were brought together by one thing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A yellow fuzzy ball.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A symbol and scent</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Of trust</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Friendship</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Honor</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"I got your back" </span><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">...</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">as well as the shot that just whizzed past you</span></span></i></span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"Yours!"</span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Lots of grace </span><i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">(for that shot just whizzed past you </span></span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">again</span></span></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">)</span></span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Ice for a swollen knee</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Bloodied band-aids</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Hugs and tears for other wounds that you couldn't quite see</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Because we felt every hurt, as if it was our own.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The thrill of victory</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The agony of defeat</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And the feet</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And the feat.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Road trips</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Borrowed bobbie pins</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">High fives for impossible shots</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A badly broken ankle in a crucial match</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And the insensitive teammate who said,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>"Suck it up!"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We won anyway, but ouch,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I felt terrible after saying that</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">When she showed up on crutches.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">That yellow fuzzy ball leveled the playing field</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Every. Single. Time.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We were the Sisters of the Yellow Fuzz</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The older we got</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The better we used to be</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We were a visible community</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Until one by one</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We parted</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">One moved</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">One was injured</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">One died</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Then another</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>(Heart disease sucks</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>Cancer </i></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>really</i></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i> sucks)</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And a few just sort of</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> ...</span></span><i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">faded ...</span></i></span><i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span></i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">away ...</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Some still gather</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Shopping in the "city"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Travels to distant states for old friends</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Over a local birthday margarita</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">The gaggle regroups to giggle</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">At carefully chosen birthday cards<br />
That only </span><i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">we</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> would understand.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We become community again</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Even if only once a year</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It's like we never missed a step</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">And we realize that it wasn't about the yellow fuzzy ball after all</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">It was about something intangible, yet palpable</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Different, yet unchanged</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJWDv3R84WNQW_x7g27PRxwmhoIiz2HAEPeMndORV7u4MsMjqspT3yiZ_H9wwmKouUHvioIDY8sAJcE4XxS30damCtAYCKRpK5n9-Jv07XQ8Sa52KXZTksVfSxwSmMZqhMdTQn6LHoKs/s1600-h/tennisheart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaJWDv3R84WNQW_x7g27PRxwmhoIiz2HAEPeMndORV7u4MsMjqspT3yiZ_H9wwmKouUHvioIDY8sAJcE4XxS30damCtAYCKRpK5n9-Jv07XQ8Sa52KXZTksVfSxwSmMZqhMdTQn6LHoKs/s400/tennisheart.jpg" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">An indescribable gift</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Of heart and soul and spirit</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Our Yellow Fuzzy Community endures</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">If only a precious memory.</span><br />
<blockquote><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>"What cannot be achieved in one lifetime will happen when one lifetime is joined to another." ~Harold Cushner</i></span><br />
</blockquote><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Join us at the <a href="http://www.bridgetchumbley.com/2009/11/carnival-2/comment-page-1/#comment-1218" target="new">"One Word at a Time" blog carnival hosted by Bridget Chumbley</a> and <a href="http://blog.hafchurch.org/peter/" target="new">Peter Pollock</a>. Come, bask in that which is my new community.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tea today: Tazo Zen</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-34242656128510701352009-11-03T06:40:00.018-06:002009-11-03T06:45:31.945-06:00"I don't remember..."<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm joining <a href="http://www.bridgetchumbley.com/" target="new">Bridget Chumbley</a> and Peter Pollock this week for their "One Word at a Time" Blog Carnival. <a href="http://blog.hafchurch.org/peter/index.php/2009/11/blog-carnival-one-word-at-a-time-remember/" target="new">Stop by Peter's blog and see all the great entries</a> on this week's word:</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b><i>Remember</i></b></span><br />
</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Car keys. Dental appointments. Birthdays. All relatively unimportant when you look at remembering life. And love. And forgetting how to do both.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I clearly recall the first time <a href="http://www.steeletheday.com/2008/06/greatest-man-i-never-knew.html" target="new">my dad</a> told me <i>"I don't remember."</i> Those three words told me so much. The cold reality of finally humbling himself to the ravages of Alzheimer's was so evident in his eyes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">He would have no more yesterdays to remember.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">He was aware of his dilemma for a while. That vague, obtuse state of mind when you know you can't remember.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">He knew he wasn't the meticulous, sharp-penciled accountant he had once been, though he'd spend hours scrawling random numbers in ledger books for no other reason than he could. There was a whisper of familiarity there. He struggled with pride and was able to fool a lot of people for a long time because he was so brilliant, and didn't want anyone else to know his debilitating secret. He did this for many years until one day he just up and said <span style="font-style: italic;">"I don't remember." </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>The white flag of surrender was flown.</span><br />
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</div><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">That was so painful for me. It was easier when he'd call me for the umpteenth time and ask me how to microwave popcorn, like it was the first time he had ever asked. Or for him to refer to one of my boys as "what's-his-name" in a joking manner, pretending he really <i>did</i> know of whom he spoke. Or when he'd say <i>"Hi There"</i> and make you think he knew who you were.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Eventually everyone was named <i>"There."</i> Some knew his ruse and some didn't. His amiable disposition always took him far.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We had some fun with Dad's memory and lack thereof. After all, it was what it was. Coping wears a dark, humorous cloak sometimes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">He remembered where his stockbroker was and drove downtown to see him. What he didn't remember is that you don't stop your car in the traffic lane, shut it off, and just walk in the office.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">He remembered that he didn't want anyone to eat his turkey sandwich, but didn't remember that he hid it in an old dresser down by his tool bench. Mom found it several years after he was gone.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">He remembered how to drive, but he never remembered where he put the keys. That was to everyone's advantage. Eventually when we intentionally hid his keys, he gave up looking for them, thinking he was the one who had lost them. It was all in the name of love, safety, and the preservation of his dignity. We kept him busy studying the driver's manual so he could "get his license back."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>"Tomorrow, Dad,"</i> I'd respond when he asked when he could take the driving test. Tomorrow never came. It never does when you don't know there was a yesterday. But that never dimmed his hope of looking forward to tomorrow. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Dad struggled to recapture the past, to keep alive some memory, but neither was to be found. Our desire was to make his today pleasant, knowing that he would never again have another yesterday.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Today I remember him in gratitude and prayer. And I so appreciate all the yesterdays he gave me. Remembering them is a cherished gift.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>J</i><i>oin us for the upcoming "One Word at a Time" Blog Carnivals <a href="http://blog.hafchurch.org/peter/index.php/proposed-bc-topics/" target="new">here</a>.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Tea today: Jasmine</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375102865872297067.post-36094686285193598782009-11-01T16:55:00.016-06:002009-11-01T17:35:17.621-06:00I ♥ NY<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">A year ago I chased Ron Burgundy and our daughter all over</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><a href="http://www.steeletheday.com/2008/10/newsworthy-runners.html"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Chicago</span></a><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> while they were running the marathon, trying to figure out the train system and snap the elusive father-daughter photo. My directionally-challenged self failed miserably.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">With this year's marathon Kate fulfilled a life-long dream of going to New York, though I don't thing she ever intended her "dream trip" would include a 26.2 mile run with 42,000 of her closest friends through the Big Apple and the boroughs.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We weren't <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">invited</span> able to go on this trip. She went with a gaggle of her Des Moines friends and left Mom and Dad behind. I wasn't too concerned. She's a grown woman with <i><span style="font-size: x-small;">just a little</span></i> ADD and a disdain for anything that resembles boredom. A frightening combination to travel to the Big Apple, indeed. But she has dependable friends, some of whom are familiar with the big city.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I was pretty calm about things until last night when she called and said <i>"I don't remember training for this."</i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"></span></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQnFGYI9gZiX8LVha45vr22c5gxSoepv4EjbWDsdt5EKV35nkGg4z8EcxpoIU3UBJbRzJQBEBvX2PT7v-8a4frmqoYnj5EKS7U7dKNxfnQGJazhm3Gsjlmu43Uwn3TFxv_vX5J7T8-m6A/s1600-h/ILNY.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQnFGYI9gZiX8LVha45vr22c5gxSoepv4EjbWDsdt5EKV35nkGg4z8EcxpoIU3UBJbRzJQBEBvX2PT7v-8a4frmqoYnj5EKS7U7dKNxfnQGJazhm3Gsjlmu43Uwn3TFxv_vX5J7T8-m6A/s200/ILNY.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Oops.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">She was so struck by the big city, seeing <a href="http://www.stomponline.com/" target="new">STOMP</a> on Broadway, and looking forward to crashing the Today Show next week, that the thought of running a little marathon today was not foremost in her mind.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">As I followed her on Athlete Tracker, the marathon's servers crashed. <i>Surely they knew her mother would be sitting in Iowa wanting to know where their daughter was on a Sunday morning?</i> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">They didn't hear my screams. I was so frustrated, I sent a tweet out about her at the starting line, and fortunately a friend of mine was able to log on to the site, scream "GO! GO!" at her computer monitor while on the phone with me, and send me screen shots of her progress late in the race.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">She crossed the finish line, sent me a text saying she survived, bemoaned the hills, and made me proud - again. What grit. She later said she about threw up with 3 miles to go.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i>"I think it was the Snickers bar the guy handed me on the course."</i> That's my girl. Never lure a dietitian with chocolate on a marathon course.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Here's a shot of her finishing up in Central Park, dressed in a green bubble suit. Doesn't she look fabulous? (You may need to click the image to view her).</span><br />
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</div>They are always your babies, aren't they? </span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Image courtesy of PhotoBucket</i></span></span><br />
</div>Candyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08906584712170733253noreply@blogger.com0