Month: January 2008

  • The pain is because of my gain

    Well, y’all will probably be as relieved as I was to know that according to some “experts” on the internet, my eyelashes should grow back in six to eight weeks. In the meantime I will be walking around with a naked eye because false eyelashes aren’t really in the cards for me due to the fact that I have the manual dexterity of a monkey with oversized hands that has just finished a bottle of cheap tequila.

    It’s really for the best because I’d probably end up developing some sort of addiction to long, lush lashes and before you know it I’d look like Zsa Zsa Gabor but younger and brunette. And possibly alive.

    Is Zsa Zsa still with us? I don’t want to put someone prematurely in their grave. I already did that once upon a time to Ed McMahon and I just felt awful about it for nearly three seconds.

    Anyway, yesterday Caroline had school. It was pajama day and also, pancake day. Can anyone guess what letter they are learning this week?

    I knew that you could.

    I dressed her in new pajamas that I purchased at Target. I knew she would love them because they had an iron-on transfer kitten on the shirt and she is a fan of kitschy. Sure enough, when she saw them she jumped into my arms and gave me a big hug. It’s just a matter of time before I completely give in to her fashion desires and begin purchasing shirts that glitter and sparkle and feature twee little animals like puppies and unicorns.

    After I dropped Caroline and her homage to the 70’s t-shirt off at preschool, I headed home. I was determined to do some form of exercise because it has come to my attention that I am officially three months away from having to wear a swimsuit in public almost every day.

    If that doesn’t strike fear in your heart then you are a better woman than me.

    As I sadly discovered while looking in the dressing room mirror at Target, my backside is not really swimsuit ready. It has spent this chilly winter comfortably wrapped in flannel pajama bottoms, yoga pants and jeans. It has led a sheltered, pampered life since October when it discovered the evil that is candy corn, and then binged on in to December in the form of homemade toffee. And now it must pay.

    I put the dogs on their leashes and we headed out with all the grace of the aforementioned monkey. We walked, and jogged, and got horrendous side cramps from the exertion. Of course that might have just been Scout and me because Bruiser seemed totally fine. He’s always been so athletic.

    When we finally arrived back home I decided I needed to continue to pay the toffee piper and did about forty lunges on the back porch and then some stomach crunches. I say “some” because I lost count about the time I started crying from the pain.

    At that point my legs and abdominal muscles let me know that I am a dirty, rotten, toffee-eating hag and they would like to go live on someone else’s body.

    Which makes me hopeful that perhaps Giselle Bundchen legs are also looking for a new body and if so, I am totally available.

  • The bald and the beautiful

    Last night I had Bible Study. I believe I have mentioned that my Bible Study Group is doing “Believing God” by Beth Moore this spring.

    We are also looking for a more creative name for ourselves than Bible Study Group, although you have to admit it’s pretty catchy.

    We are starting week three of the study, but since we fell behind due to excessive talking and sharing the week before, we listened to week two and week three last night. It was a lot to digest all in one sitting and frankly speaking, God kind of absolutely rocked my world. I was challenged, I was encouraged, I was moved beyond my understanding.

    So, on the way home from Gulley’s house, I had myself some church in my car. I poured out my heart and all my shortcomings. I told God that I didn’t want it to be about me and my pride and my vanity and all those other things that I cling to for security. I let it all go.

    Later in the night, Caroline got in bed with us. We all slept peacefully until about 3:00 a.m. when I made the unfortunate decision to get up and go to the bathroom. With that move, I disrupted the balance and equilibrium of the entire universe and Caroline could no longer sleep.

    She spent the next three hours contemplating her existence and experimenting with various ways to completely drive me out of my mind while ensuring that I not be allowed to go back to sleep. And yes, I realize I could have put her back in her own bed and I threatened such action many, MANY times. However, I was too tired to go to all that effort.

    Finally, at around 6 a.m. when P was getting out of bed, she and I finally fell asleep and slept until 9 a.m. Which was heavenly except for the fact that we had thirty minutes to get dressed and to gymnastics.

    We were rushing around…actually I was rushing around while Caroline rode her scooter, said good morning to the dogs, dumped all her crayons out of the box to find the pink one, and then after the 184th time that I told her to get her leotard on, began to get dressed.

    Once I had her moving in the right direction, I headed to the bathroom to try and make myself look decent. I had no time for makeup but decided to curl my eyelashes in a sad, feeble attempt to make myself look bright and impossibly fresh.

    And that’s when it happened.

    I will reflect on this moment for years to come, wondering where it all went wrong.

    For some reason, while my eyelashes were in the grip of the curler, I turned my head. Now, I am not an eyelash curling rookie. I have been curling my lashes for lo these last twenty-three years. I have no excuse for my lapse in judgement.

    Needless to say, I immediately felt some pain in my eyelash region and looked down to see a vast multitude of lashes in the sink and in my eyelash curler. And in the words uttered by a woman whom I have never met but whose story I immediately remembered, I said, “Y’all”.

    I stood and stared at those eyelashes, willing them to reattach themselves to my now pink and slightly swollen eyelid. I think we all know how that turned out.

    After a day spent assessing the damage, I believe I am missing about 1/4 of my eyelashes between the inner corner of my eye and the center of my eye. I can’t even bear to do a google search to find out how long it will take them to grow back.

    Apparently, God took me seriously when I told Him I didn’t want it to be about my pride or my vanity. It’s hard to be proud or vain when you find yourself missing a 1/4 of your eyelashes.

    And now if y’all will excuse me, I need to go shopping for some false eyelashes.

  • Internet Cafe

    I wrote a guest post over at Internet Cafe today. Head on over if you want to read what I have to say at the cafe. That rhymes.

    And I’ll have a post up here a little later on.

  • I know what I’ll be doing this summer

    So, about a month or so ago, I received a very lovely email from a woman named Lysa Terkeurst who is the President of Proverbs 31 Ministries, a speaker, and an author. She asked if there was a time we could speak on the phone and after I verified that she didn’t think she was emailing someone else, we arranged a conference call. She also invited Sophie from Boomama and Shannon from Rocks in My Dryer.

    Before the call I was very nervous because Proverbs 31 Ministries implied that I might need to wake before dawn and weave purple linen. In the interest of being completely honest, I usually refrain from doing either of those things. And if given the choice, I would probably prefer to weave purple linen as opposed to rising before the break of day.

    Also, while I pray that Caroline will one day rise up and call me blessed, just this afternoon after I had finished peeling an orange she told me to please get my stinky hands away from her because she felt like she might explode. As far as I know there is no reference to causing your children to explode in Proverbs 31.

    Anyway, the reason Lysa was calling was because she had been reading our blogs for the last few months and Proverbs 31 was considering adding a few sessions about blogging to their annual She Speaks Conference. She asked if Shannon, Sophie and I would be interested in leading these sessions.

    Okay. Wow.

    Sophie, Shannon and Lysa had a very articulate conversation about what these sessions would look like, while I made clever conversation about how I thought email would never take off. Fortunately, Lysa wanted me anyway. And I am so excited.

    I feel that I am totally equipped to instruct women how to get ON THE COMPUTER and start a WEBLOG, otherwise known among the hip and trendy set as a BLOG. Seriously, it makes you want to sign up right now, doesn’t it?

    I also may throw in some of my thoughts on male figure skating, eighties fashion, and reality television. It will be a wealth of information.

    Seriously, Sophie, Shannon and I are so excited for this opportunity. Not only will we get to talk about our obsession with blogging and the blog world, but we’ll get to meet some people face to face. It’s going to be so much fun.

    And here’s something cool, if you’re interested in attending then you have a chance to win a scholarship. Lysa TerKeurst is conducting a scholarship contest for the 2008 She Speaks conference on her blog this week. To get all the details and enter this contest, visit Lysa’s blog by clicking here.

    To find out more about registering for the 2008 She Speaks conference visit the conference website by clicking here.

    If you’ve ever wanted the opportunity to become better equipped for ministry and to have a great time, this is the place to be on
    June 20-22.

    I know I’m not going to miss it for the world. Even if I have to rise before dawn to get there.

  • And so I’ve been reduced to this

    Well since I already admitted to watching Beverly Hills 90210 on Saturday morning, I’d say it’s a safe bet that our weekend didn’t really involve anything that would qualify as exciting.

    Basically it was a whole lot of nothing. But I’m not complaining because other than having nothing to write about, non-eventful weekends aren’t a bad thing.

    I know y’all will be relieved to know that P was able to save his cellular phone. It’s not quite the phone it used to be, but it’s functional and that’s all that matters. I find it fascinating that his phone was fully submerged in a bucket of water and survived, while I once had a phone that was ruined because I let Caroline teethe on it when she was a baby. Maybe it was the mixture of drool and Gerber teething biscuits that did it in.

    It also warmed my heart to know there are many fellow 90210 fans out there. I feel an extra bond knowing we all share a love of a show with some of the best acting and writing in the history of television. I mean when Brenda found out about Dylan and Kelly, I felt her pain even as I sat and ate Double Chocolate Milanos in my dorm room.

    And when Donna and David finally got married? I wept real tears. Even though I was twenty-six years old and should have known better.

    Speaking of bad T.V., I have another confession to make. But before I do, let me just say that I blame the writers for being on strike. Actually that’s not true, I don’t blame the writers. I blame the hotshots who won’t give in to their demands. GIVE THEM WHAT THEY WANT. WE NEED TELEVISION. I NEED TO KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON AT DUNDER-MIFFLIN. HOW IS THE BEET FARM? HOW IS MOSE?

    I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m desperate. How desperate you may ask? (and even if you don’t care, I’m about to tell you)

    Desperate enough that I found myself watching the U.S. MEN’S Figure Skating Championships last night.

    (Hangs head in shame and humiliation)

    I wasn’t going to watch. I vowed the first time I flipped by it on the T.V. that I wouldn’t watch. Then I made a crucial error. I stopped on NBC while I folded some laundry and it sucked me into the vortex that is male figure skating.

    Actually, Bob Costas sucked me in. He was discussing the huge rivalry between boy skater #1 and boy skater #2. Apparently there is a lot of trash talking that goes on and from that moment on all I could do was continue folding Caroline’s shirts while pondering what figure skating trash talk sounds like between two men.

    “Dude, my mama does a better triple toe loop than you.”

    “Nice sequined rose on your costume. Did you get it from your sister?”

    And that’s about all I could imagine. Really I imagined more but I’ll spare you the details. Maybe I’m just holding on to some lingering issues with the male figure skating “sport” because we tried to get P on the circuit for years and he never made it.

    Oh I kid. P only tried to get on the male figure skating circuit for one year and then gave it up for his love of hunting and watching Ultimate Fighting.

    Anyway, the competition last night was very intense. It seems that boy skater #2 beat boy skater #1 last year to become the new champion. There was much on the line according to Bob Costas and y’all know he is never one to overdramatize anything.

    It came down to the final skate. Boy #2 was in the lead and it was time for Boy #1. He was amazing and he even did the quadruple whatever, which he’d never done in competition. I was on the edge of the couch and even stopped folding shirts for a half-millisecond.

    Then, it was time for the judges to release their scores. THEY ENDED UP WITH THE EXACT SAME SCORE DOWN TO A TENTH OF A POINT. However, boy #2 won because he had a higher score in the free skate competition and I guess that’s written in some rule book somewhere.

    The tying scores were UNPRECEDENTED. Scott Hamilton and Bob Costas were in shock and awe and made pointless analogies about the odds of this happening. According to them, people will be talking about this FOR YEARS.

    Who are these people? I don’t believe I know them.

    You know who I know? Michael Scott, Jim, Pam, Dwight Schrute. Please WRITERS and EXECUTIVES, let’s all make nice and get some better T.V. going and SOON.

    Between 90210 and men’s ice skating, I’ve forgotten what well-written drama looks like.

    Well, except for the ongoing all new episodes of Friday Night Lights. But that’s a whole other subject.

  • Can you hear me now, Jim Walsh?

    This morning I was engaged in my typical Saturday morning of intellectual pursuits such as watching old episodes of Beverly Hills 90210.

    I was doubly blessed this morning because not only did I get to see the episode where the entire gang from West Beverly High marches while demanding “Donna Martin graduates, Donna Martin graduates…” (I believe you know the rest), but I was able to hear Jim Walsh say, “Dylan just called on his CELLULAR PHONE and he’s on his way over. It must be nice to be young and have money to burn.”

    Oh 1993. What an innocent time.

    **Edited to add that P just walked in from work a little while ago and his CELLULAR phone fell in a bucket of water and is understandably now toast.

    See? That’s a whole issue that no one had to worry about in 1993.

    No way those big phones would have fit in a bucket.