on her own

Darren and I had a date last night. We hold season tickets to the Fort Worth Symphony (a birthday gift for Darren last September), and last night was one of our concerts. The program featured four works based on Shakespeare plays: Dvorak's "Othello", Elgar's "Falstaff", Liszt's "Hamlet", and Tchaikovsky's "Romeo and Juliet". Cutie-pie conductor Miguel Harth-Bedoya (I sorta have a crush) did a beautiful job with the program, and British actor Michael York melded the music and stories together with his flawless, lyrical voice. He read excerpts from each play during breaks in the music, even changing characters within some of the readings. Romeo and Juliet was especially moving, with the music playing softly behind him as he read - nay, ACTED - the words. As he read the part of Juliet, I actually let slip a tear. It was brilliantly and tenderly executed, and such a powerful way to end the program.

Sometime during the Hamlet piece, I got this weird urge to dig my cell phone out of my purse to see if I'd missed any calls while my ringer had been off. I was surprised to see the number '9' all lit up, and even MORE surprised to see that all 9 calls had been from Dani in a span of 12 minutes. She was playing soccer at the time - or should have been - so I couldn't figure out WHAT might be so urgent. Had she been injured? I climbed and staggered past the people on my row (I'm SO not graceful when it comes to stepping over people in a crowded auditorium) and made my way out to the balcony to call her back.

The school they were playing is in a town about 45 minutes from here, and the plan was for one of her teammates to give her a ride home after the bus brought them back to Fort Worth. I felt a little bit guilty for skipping another game, but Dani assured me she was fine with it. Knowing we wouldn't be out of the concert in time to pick her up at school, we'd made arrangements for her ride home. But as it turned out, the friend who was going to give her the ride COULDN'T, because her parents ended up going to the game after all. Without written permission, Dani wasn't allowed to get into the car with them. She HAD to ride the bus back to the school. Her coach couldn't take her home because he required verbal permission from me to do so, and I couldn't be reached. NINE times I couldn't be reached. He wouldn't permit her to ride home with anyone else, either. By the time I called her back, they'd solved the problem. The bus would drop Dani off at home before returning to the school. Ahhhh. Stupid red tape. But at least she got home.

Today, Darren and I went to the "World Famous" First Monday Trade Days, the "biggest flea market in the world" in Canton. The boys were spending the day with Grammy, and Dani was looking forward to a whole day with the house to herself. The one catch to the plan was this: she had guitar lessons at noon, about 1 mile from home. We had it all figured out. Darren and I dropped her guitar off at the music place early this morning, and Dani rode her bike. When she got there, though, she discovered that lessons had been cancelled today because the teacher's grandmother died this morning. So she threw her guitar over her back and pedalled back home. We chatted via cell phone several times during that ordeal, as I'd made her promise to call me when she left home and when she arrived at lessons, and to do the same routine on her way BACK home.

Poor kid. She was on her own this weekend, and was responsible for making her own arrangements, which she DID. And then none of those arrangements worked out the way they were supposed to. I have Mommy guilt, but I know there were valuable lessons learned. And it comforts me to know that she found her own solutions and made them happen, without me to consult or lean on. My girl. She's done grown up!

(And if I may take this moment to brag.... she met with her guidance counselor last week and is ranked 17th out of 704 freshmen. GO DANI!!!)

most embarrassing moment

Did I ever tell y'all the story of me playing softball about 10 years ago? No?? Hold on, here we go!.......

Karen will remember this, and surely will correct me if I forget anything or elaborate too much. Ahem. It was the first time she met me. :)

It was a charity softball tournament that a group of friends had entered. I thought it'd be fun to sit in the dug-out and cheer them on, but I had no real plans to actually PLAY. 'Cept they kept badgering me, and chanting my name, until even the OTHER team was chanting my name. So I took a bat, headed to home plate, and struck a pose.The pitcher pitched. The catcher caught. I stood there and laughed. Then he pitched again, and I swung. Imagine my HORROR when the bat actually connected with the ball! Oh. My. FLYINGSPAGHETTIMONSTER, that meant I had to RUN! Both teams were yelling, "RUN! RUN!" So I did. HARD. My short little legs were churnin' and burnin', and my disgustingly disproportionate boobs were setting off seismographs in California with every step: KaBOOM kaBOOM kaBOOM. The short stop intentionally overthrew the ball to first base, so I was safe. I'm sure they thought it the kind thing to do, letting me arrive safely at first base, but I was ready to murder somebody, 'cause that meant.... you guessed it..... that'd I'd have to run again!

My friend Andy Tomme (I'm including his whole name in case he ever googles his name - I want him to relive this horror too, LOL!) was up to bat right after me. I knew I was doomed, 'cause he was the athletic type who excels at EVERY sport he plays. As soon as I heard the crack of his bat, I started running. HARD. I SWEAR, my feet were barely even skimming the ground. And yet, Andy was ON MY BUTT, screaming, "GO!!!!!! GO GO GO GO!!" He'd already rounded first and I hadn't even made it to second yet! I leaned into my run, trying with everything IN me to get there before the ball, screaming like a GIRL the whole way, boobs flying everywhere - knocking my knees on the way down and blacking my eyes on the way up. When I got there, I stood on top of the base and turned toward the crowd to take a bow (even though I'd long been thrown out). The crowd was ROARING, and half my team was standing outside the dugout holding their sides, laughing hysterically, applauding, falling on the floor. Someone started chanting MVP. I was basking in it ('cause it really WAS hilarious), when suddenly, something seemed amiss.

I looked down, and lo and behold, there was my right boob, COMPLETELY out of my bra. My left one was still inside my bra, but cut in half, so through my t-shirt, it looked like I had one HUGE high-riding boob on the right side, and two funky looking ones on the left. I turned around toward the center fielder and tried in vain to stuff my boob back in without raising my shirt. That's hard to do when you're a disgustingly huge cup size. I failed. All I could do was jog back to the dugout and pretend nothing was wrong. But oh MY, I was laughing. We lost that game, and for MONTHS after that, everytime I'd see one of those friends, we'd all bust into gales of laughter. For a long time, Andy called me MVP whenever he saw me. Every once in while, I'll see someone from that tournament who will remind me, "Hey. Remember that time when we played softball.....". And then I'll cut them off, threaten to beat them up if they utter another word, and we'll crack up. MAN, that was embarrassing. But BOY was it funny!!

I haven't played softball since.
I think I can safely assume I never will again. LOL!

the dawn treader

Last fall, Darren started reading The Chronicles of Narnia to the boys, in anticipation of the movie version of Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe. It was so cool to watch that movie with them, because they totally understood what was happening and were able to anticipate what was coming next. "There's Tumnus!" "Watch out, that's a bad wolf." "Don't worry, Mom. Aslan is coming back ALIVE!"

They've just begun their third book now, The Dawn Treader. Last night, in lieu of having Daddy read to them, they opted instead to build the ship. Using the book cover as a guide, they stacked blocks and assembled army men just so, and then Ian ran upstairs and triumphantly returned with the plastic dinosaur he got at the doctor's office last week, perching it precariously on the front tip of the boat. "It's not a dinosaur anymore. It's a DRAGON. And these are the good guys. But in this boat over here, THESE are the BAD guys."

They were SO proud of their Dawn Treader.

I was so proud of them.

:)

recovery

My fever broke at 10:30 this morning, and I've been fever-free ever since. YAY!! After 5 days of non-stop fever and chills and body aches, I'd almost forgotten what normal feels like. I'm still weak and I tire easily, but WHOA baby, I feel a LOT better! :)

To celebrate, Darren went out tonight after the boys were in bed. Darren HATES to leave the house once he's home, but he grabbed his keys and said, "I'm gonna go drive around." I knew what he was up to, though, and it was confirmed 10 minutes later when he returned with a Diet Vanilla Coke from Sonic. WHAT a MAN! I picked it up and the 44-ounce cup split right down the middle, dumping straight down into the intake vent in the floor. I was distraught. Seriously. I threw a mini temper-tantrum right there in the kitchen, first letting out a dramatic fake sob, then beating the wall with my fist. Aren't you proud of me? Darren picked up the cup and drove back to Sonic, told them that the cup split wide open for no reason, and they replaced it for free. Did I mention that Darren hates to go out once he's home for the night? He did it twice tonight. Twue wuv, and all that. :)

The only OTHER time I had a Sonic cup split on me was last March in Austin. I was flying down the highway in a big white van, riding shotgun. Six other friends were riding along, talking, sipping their Sonic drinks...but when I reached for my Sonic cup, it split right down the middle. My first thought was, "I can't let 44 ounces of Diet Vanilla Coke unload all over me and this dumb rental van!"... so I rolled down the window and let the cup fly. Well, that's not entirely accurate. What I actually did was try to pour the Coke OUT of the cup, but when you're flying 75 miles per hour down I-35, that's not a real bright move. Unbeknownst to me was the man in my blind spot, with his window down. My tidal wave of Coke went right into his window. Everyone is the back of the van watched the whole thing in slow motion. The van was ROCKING with laughter. "Sorry, dude. I had to do it!"

--------------------------------------------------------

Tonight, I tried to retrieve some photos off of my compact flash disk. Imagine my horror when I opened the drive only to find that the disk was empty. I knew I had over 200 photos on it, so I went into a state of panic. I immediately googled "missing photos on compact flash disk", and the first thing it brought up was a testimonial from a professional photographer who had lost 1200 images, but was able to retrieve them with this software. I figured I had nothing to lose, so I downloaded the free trial version, which retrieved over 700 thumbnail photos off my disk (including photos that I'd long ago deleted). I was sold, and immediately typed in my CC # to buy the software and recover my photos for real.

I was completely and totally impressed, and gushed on and on about how amazing it was. Darren cooly said, "If you understood anything about how hard disks work, you wouldn't be so impressed." Hmpf. Well, I DON"T know a thing about how they work, and I AM impressed.

Recovery... from the flu, of a wasted Diet Vanilla Coke, and of lost photos. 'Twas a good day!

Still sick

My nose is clear now, but everything has settled in my chest.
I'm living on Mucinex, Tylenol and Advil.
The fever keeps coming back. I actually slept in full clothes last night, under 3 blankets, and still couldn't chase away the chills.
I'm weak, sore from coughing, have a raging headache that hasn't gone away in days, and feel generally miserable.

This week, I cancelled every single activity I had planned.
Tuesday lunch with Jerica,
Wednesday play date with Cara and Kristi,
Wednesday night work meeting with Dale,
Thursday WW meeting with Cara,
Friday night date with Darren to see a friend of ours play with his band at 4 Star Coffee Bar (was REALLY looking forward to that. They're on stage as I type.)

And then the WORST thing of all, a friend who lives in New Mexico (Terri - lidsmom for those who know her) called this afternoon... from HERE in Fort Worth! She's visiting for the weekend with her daughter who's checking out TCU. And I was too sick to meet up with her.

And finally, to prove just how really rotten I've felt, I haven't returned phone calls or emails, and I haven't spent more than 10 minutes online at a time for the last 3 days. That, my friends, is probably what's ailing me. LOL!!

Darren took off the last two days to take care of the kids and me 'cause I've been useless. He's precious. Tonight, he did all the grocery shopping - even clipped coupons, made a menu and put it all away when he got home. The boys have been super sweet. THey're not used to seein' Mom layin' on the couch all day, so they know somethin's up. And Dani has been Dani - mostly keeping to herself up in her room. I miss that kid, actually. I think she's steering clear of me so she won't get sick again herself.

I'm headed back to the couch. Later.

Acrostic

The flu sucks.
Hacking cough strips my throat raw.
Every breath seems to trigger a coughing fit.

Forget dainty sneezes. I sneeze like a big hairy man.
Loogies in an array of greenish yellows stick in my throat Laughing hurts.
Until I hack them out. Useless is the medicine I take.

Sniffle, gork, snarf, glurb.
Ugh.
Cough, sputter, shudder, shiver.
Knitted afghan does little to chase away the chills.
Stacy wants her Mommy.

take me as i am

Darren and I are small group leaders at the Fortress Youth Development Center on Sunday afternoons. We participate in a high-energy praise and worship time with the kids, then break into small groups to discuss biblical principles on a teenaged, inner-city level. Before breaking into groups, one of the youth ministers always leads us in a big group activity.

Last Sunday, he told the leaders to come forward and sit in the chairs. Then he gave our small groups a pile of STUFF: hair gel, blue eye shadows, red and hot pink lipsticks... and told them to give us all an extreme makeover, and that the team with the best made-over leader would win a prize. You should've heard the squeals of delight when the kids heard that. They attacked us with much zeal and gusto, and this was the end result:

Personally, I think the Darth Maul-look that Jake's team gave HIM should've won, but the judges gave the prize to Darren's team.
It took 2 shampoos to get all the slimy gel out of my hair. You can't tell from the picture, but there were two huge GOBS of it plastered on the back of my head. Naaaaaasty. Darren, Jake and Boy George Michael were good sports and kept their makeup on for the full hour, but they all three hit the bathroom and scrubbed with cold water and paper towels the very second it was over. Crack. Me. UP! The purpose of it all was to open up this topic: does God accept you as you are? Does He want you to be all made up and with your best face on when you come before Him? Will He acknowledge you if you look like Darth Maul on the outside? What if you look good on the outside, but you're skanky on the inside? Does He care? Will He reject you?
What things do you try to "make over" when you remember to acknowledge God? What things to do you try to hide?

It opened up a very frank talk with my 4 girls. They're wise in so many ways. I mean, they're STREETwise, that's certain. They've seen more ugliness and shame and downright filthy sin in their lives than I have in twice the amount of time -the kind of stuff that just comes with the territory when you live in the projects.

But they're also SOULwise. They realize that God accepts them as they are. They understand that He doesn't expect perfection, and that He welcomes them with open arms, no matter how tattered and torn and dirty they are. He just wants them to come. They understand that it's THEM God values, not their good deeds or their extreme makeovers. He may not like the baggage they're dragging, he may abhor the sinfulness they're wallowing in, but let me tell you: these girls understand that DESPITE it ALL, they serve a God who accepts and loves them just the way they are, and wants the very best for them today, tomorrow, and for all eternity. They GET it. THAT makes my heart soar.

airport barbecue and betrothal

Last Tuesday, while driving to the airport to have a barbecue picnic on the floor next to the baggage claim during the Poplins' layover...

Ian said to me, "Mom. I think you can't spell very good."
"Why is that, Ian?" I asked.
"Because you spell my name wrong. You never write a "E" in it. But my name is EEEE-uhn."

I could hardly argue with that. Smartypants.
But isn't he CUTE?

He's gonna marry Alice Poplin, and Aidan's gonna marry Helen. Elaine and I have already arranged it all. Too bad that the girls will both be 6-foot willowy beauties and my boys will hover around 5 and a half feet. Is it THEIR fault that their parents are short? I'm gonna start workin' on their self-esteem early, so that being married to tall women won't intimidate them. Elaine says she'll work on her girls' too, so that they won't feel like they need to hunch over when they're the tallest in the room. :)

deep freeze

It was 85 degrees Thursday afternoon. Today, it was 25. No wonder I'm sick!

I stayed in my jammies all day, snuggled under an afghan on the couch, watching the Olympics. I was glad to hear cutie pie Lindsey Jacobellis admit that she WAS showboating yesterday in the Snowboard Cross. But you know what? Haven't we ALL done that? Who here hasn't at some point in their life looked back, gloated a bit, then turned around just in time to run smack into a telephone pole or something? It happened to my little brother back in 1981.

I was 12, he was 10. We lived on a boomerang-shaped street, and our house was right on the curve. The driveway was long and wide, and flanked by two gray brick flower beds that stood about 3 feet off the ground. On a glorious afternoon that I'll never forget, David and I were racing our bikes. Mom and her friend Ann were sitting on the porch watching, and all the neighborhood kids lined the street as we flew past. David was winning, the little turd. I was standing as I peddled, pumping my legs as hard as I could, but I still couldn't catch him on his black Huffy. Just as he entered the curve, he turned to see how much he had gained on me, and when he saw that I wasn't catching him, he started acting a fool, howling and laughing and taunting and BAM!!! A terrific crash into the brick planter, hard enough to bend the wheel on his bike. He went flying over the handlebars and right through the holly bushes that filled it, landing on the other side in a crumpled, whimpering heap. I laughed. It's true, I did. I'm laughing now as I think about it. He was SUCH a show-off, and SUCH a punk to us his whole life. It was sorta fun to watch him make a fool of himself. Am I heartless? Not usually. But in this instance, yes. I was. The most pathetic part of all was that forevermore, he claimed to have hit a pebble in the street that caused him to lose control and steer into the planter. My big white behind. There was no rock, save for the one rolling around in his head after he plowed through the prickly holly. :)

So yesterday, when Jacobellis said she'd lost control during that last jump which caused her to crash, I hung my head. No, Lindsey, don't be like David. You grabbed that snowboard in a celebratory "Look at me, I'm AWESOME and I'm winning and I'm gonna win in STYLE, baby!" grab. It was cool. No one blames you. Youth and inexperience give you a free pass on that idiotic split-second decision. Today, when you admitted it, I applauded.

I love the Winter Olympics! This year, Snowboard Cross and the Halfpipe have been my favorite events. I always love the speed skating, so today was fun. And I'm looking forward to Ski Jumping. I get chills watching those jumpers flyyyyyyyyy. It's magical.

Tonight, I added something to my list of things to do before I die: attend a Winter Olympics. Vancouver 2010, baby! Methinks I need to grow a thicker hide, though. I bet it'll be a smidge colder than what I'm experiencing here today, and I sure have whined enough about THAT.

-------------------------

Part of the reason I've been so cold today is that I'm getting sick. Body aches, fatigue, and chills all day. But at 6:30, something happened that warmed my soul to its very core. My brother-in-law, in town briefly from Tennessee, stopped by with grocery sacks full of soup, crackers, Sprite and Blue Bell Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream. And in the other hand..... a Sonic diet vanilla coke with my name on it. My seester must've told him that we're all puny. I love my seester. And I love my seester's husband. Thanks, Santos! MUAH!

50 questions

These questions courtesy of npetercmway, :)

1. FIRST NAME? Stacy
2. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? No. I was supposed to be a Stephanie, but my Grandma (Dad's Mom) hated the name. So when the nurse came in to do the birth certificate, my Mom was asleep, and Grandma took the opportunity to change my name to Stacy. My Mom never forgave her, but I'm forever indebted. Thanks Grandma! :)
3. WHEN DID YOU LAST CRY? Last night in the Walgreens parking lot when I found out that the medicines the pediatrician prescribed aren't fully covered by my insurance and were going to cost me $470.
4. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? Yah, I do. :)
5. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCHMEAT? Chicken salad. Oh. You mean actual LUNCH MEAT? Smoked turkey.
6. KIDS? 3
7. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? absolutely!
8. DO YOU HAVE A JOURNAL? My blog. And I have a quote book that I keep in my purse...I jot quotes down in it when I hear or come across one I like or think I could use somehow.
9. DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT? let's just say that when my Callyfornya friend said she loved me, I thought it was because I had said something sarcastic that she was thinking. :)
10. Do you still have your tonsils? yup
11. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? no. I would've 5 years ago, though.
12. What is your favorite cereal? Special K with strawberries
13. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF? I don't wear shoes that have to be tied. :)
14. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG? Strong-willed, yes. Strong of faith? Definitely. Emotionally strong, I suppose I CAN be. Physically strong? mercy, no.
15. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM Flavor: Tin Roof Sundae
16. SHOE SIZE? 8 1/2 wide
17. RED OR PINK? Dark Red
18. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF? my weight
19. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST? Kristi and Cara. We haven't hung out as a trio in a long while
20. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU? n/a
21. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES YOU ARE WEARING? pink flowery pajama pants, blue stripey supersoft socks
22. LAST THING YOU ATE? Darren's homemade chicken noodle sloup
23. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW? Darren has the Weather channel on. *sigh*
24. IF YOU WERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE? brick red
25. What is your FAVORITE SMELL? freshly mown grass
26. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE? Darren, when he called from the grocery store earlier
27. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE YOU ARE ATTRACTED TO? I always notice a guy's calves. But I'm attracted to ANYone who laughs with gusto.
28. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU? I've never met her in person, but I like her on the internet. :) And I know we'd get along 'cause so many of our answers are the same! (the ones in red are identical)
29. Favorite drink? Diet Coke with vanilla in a big ol' Route 44 cup from Sonic
30. FAVORITE SPORT? to play? volleyball. to watch? HOCKEY!
31. HAIR COLOR? too-broke-to-get-it- colored brown
32. EYE COLOR? Brown
33. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS? No
34. FAVORITE FOOD? Tex-Mex. Specifically, chicken fajitas from Don Pablos, and avacado enchiladas from Abuelo's, and chipotle shrimp from Pappasito's.
35. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDING? hate scary movies, love happy ending movies
36. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? At the theatre, Chronicles of Narnia
37. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING? pink
38. SUMMER OR WINTER? Fall.
39. HUGS OR KISSES? hugs
40. FAVORITE DESSERT? gooey brownies
41. WHO IS MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? n/a
42. WHO IS LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND? n/a
43. WHAT BOOKS ARE YOU READING? I'm between books. Just finished Hemingway's complete short stories... am looking for Fitzgerald's on Jenny's recommendation.
44. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSEPAD? Folio - a freebie that Darren got at some convention
45. WHAT DID YOU WATCH LAST NIGHT ON TV? Olympics
46. FAVORITE SOUNDS? Children Laughing, acappella singing, the text message beep on my phone going off, the squeaky sproing of mail coming through the slot
47. ROLLING STONE OR BEATLES? Beatles (but five year's ago, I'd have said the Stones)
48. THE FURTHEST YOU BEEN FROM HOME? Amsterdam, The Netherlands
49. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT? so I'm told. :)
50. WHEN AND WHERE WERE YOU BORN? summer of '69 in a podunky Kansas town.

God in the little things

Monday, I got an e-card from a friend in Oregon. It let me know that a donation to children's cancer research had been made in my name. It made my day.

Tuesday, friends from Alabama texted me to say, "We'll be at DFW between 5 and 7. Wave as we fly over." Instead, I met up with them at baggage claim and shared a picnic dinner on the floor with my two boys and their two girls, who are all betrothed, by the way. It was a pain for them to go through security again, but they were willing to do it. Spending time with was the highlight of my day.

Later that night, I opened a letter from a friend in Wisconsin. It contained a newspaper article featuring the house we lived in last summer in Ireland. "I was reading the paper, and I saw this house, and I said, "WOW! That's the house Stacy and Darren stayed in this summer!", she wrote. "My husband didn't believe me, so I pulled up the photo on your scrapbook site and showed him. Proof that I DO look at all your layouts!" The note and the clipping made me giggle. I love that she went to the trouble to send it to me.

Yesterday, a friend in Indiana graciously re-cut some sizzix letters for me and mailed them directly to my client in Nebraska, after I had asked for the wrong letters in the first place. She's so willing and eager to help - always - and her kindness warms my heart.

Also yesterday, I received another letter from my brother in Washington. Some horrible circumstances brought us to this letter-writing relationship, but I rejoice in those circumstances, for I'm convinced that God is using them for good. Our relationship is stronger and more meaningful than it ever has been. I weep when I read his letters. He does the same when he reads mine. Thank God for trials and tribulations of all kinds. That verse finally makes sense to me now.

Today, my friend in California texted me. She couldn't have possibly known that I was in the midst of a crying fit in the parking lot of Walgreen's pharmacy at the time. Her text said, "I just texted to say 'I love you'." I called her later to ask what had prompted her message. She said, "Nothing. I was just sitting at work, and I thought, "I love Stacy." So I decided to tell you." "Wow," I replied. "It must've been a God thing, 'cause at that very moment, it was exactly what I needed to hear."

Most believing people believe that when you're tempted to do something bad, it's Satan working on you. But fewer of them take this in to consideration: when you're promted to do GOOD, it's a God thing. I'm lucky to have so many friends who listen to that voice. 'Cause the truth is, God's not only present in the BIG THINGS. He's all wrapped up in the little things, too.

UBER post

It's true. Sometimes (okay, MOST times), when Darren is droning on talking about his work, my eyeballs roll back in my head. I try to follow for about .17 seconds, but really, tables and charts put me straight to sleep. I realize that it's UBER COOL (Dani will hate me for using HER PHRASE) for tax people to be able to clicky inside a table and add numbers and then clicky again to make those numbers negative and then clicky again and have all the numbers add up correctly and then clicky again to add a title which then automatically causes the whole table to wrap correctly and all kinds of other cool stuff. I realize that this whole project has been an UBER BIG deal. He worked 70 hours a week on it for 6 weeks, learning how to code in some particular language as he went, which according to his boss, is an UBER AMAZING skill. And I realize that as excited as I get about some of my scrapbook ideas turning out on paper the way I saw them in my head, that's the same excitement Darren feels when something in HIS head actually works when he clicks it.

But I didn't REALLY understand until today, when Darren emailed me:

I got some really positive feedback on the Financial Table tool I’ve been working on. The teachers of the training class said that someone said Darren for President” after it was demonstrated. They said everyone was really positive about it. I guess that makes me feel better about the long hours.

Just thought I’d share that with you to make you feel a little better too.

Hope your day is OK with all the sickies in the house.

Love, Me

Congratulations, Darren! I'm proud of you! (And yes, it DOES make me feel better about not seeing you for the entire month of January. UBER better!)

In other news.... Dani and Ian are sick puppies. Dani has a respiratory infection and Ian has a double ear infection, with, oddly, NO PAIN. Both have been running medium-high fever and can barely breathe when they're lying down. They both also have the old-fashioned flu. Did you know that there's a culture you can take for flu? They swab way up in your nostril and lab it. Both of their nasal swabs came back positive for flu. No wonder they've been glassy-eyed and lethargic. Dani's mad because she'll have to miss end-of-six-week exams tomorrow. MAD? She'd rather GO? She is not my kid. Uber freak! Uber freak! (she's uber freaky...)

10 Reasons Nadya should move to Fort Worth

10. Sundance Square. Our downtown is HOPPIN', baby! Even on a Wednesday night, you can find live music - GOOD live music. Then there's the gorgeous Bass Performance Hall (that building with the huge honkin' angels for you tourists), the theaters (live and film), and all the fabulous eateries.

9. The Stockyards! I'll admit that I don't venture up that way as often as I should - mostly only when I'm playing tour guide to out-of-town guests. But every time I go, I'm reminded that I SHOULD go more often! Steak houses on every corner, a live longhorn cattle drive (actually, cattle mosey is more accurate) twice a day, a cool walking tour that's interesting every time I go, the smell of leather in the boot and saddle shops, Western kitcsh, and oh, let's not forget the cowboys. Real, live ones. :)
On horseback patroling the brick-paved streets, and rodeoin' at the Cowtown Coliseum every Friday and Saturday night.

8. The Cultural District. We're known as "Cowtown" and "Where the West Begins", 'tis true. But we're more cultured than that overgrown botoxed city to our east; the proof is all the Dallas-area cars in our parking lots! The world-renowned Kimbell Art Museum, The Modern Art Museum, the Amon Carter Museum of Western Art, the Museum of Science and History, and the Cowgirl Hall of Fame and Museum... all within 5 blocks of each other.

7. The Fort Worth Zoo has been ranked as the No.1 attraction in the entire Dallas-Fort Worth area and No.19 among the "50 Overall Top-Rated Attractions" in the entire United States by the Zagat Survey U.S. Family Guide. With shady, tree-lined paths, roaring waterfalls, African Savannahs and tropical jungles, it's easy to forget that you're smack in the middle of a large city. (In fact, you're less than a mile from my house!) Texas Wild is an 8-acre exhibit that features all the different habitats and animals of this great state, from the coastal plains to the piney woods to the blackland prairies to the West Texas desert.

6. Public Art. It's free! From the famed Chisholm Trail mural downtown to the anatomically correct topiary bull (well, he WAS anatomically correct until a few years ago, when someone complained that his, uh... anatomy was offensive. Now he's anatomic-correctly castrated), to the bronze "Texas Gold" statues near the Stockyards...and everywhere in between.

5. Trinity River Trails and Park. Bikers, rollerbladers and joggers populate the trails which snake along the Trinity River from far southwest Fort Worth through the Museum/Parks area and north toward the stockyards. Mayfest, which promotes community awareness and funding for the park, is one of our family's favorite annual events.

6. Botanic Gardens and Japanese Gardens. Lush, well-kept, serene, beautiful. We love to picnic here, where balls and frisbees aren't allowed. The Gardens force you to slow down and (literally) smell the roses. In the summer, we always take in at least one Concert in the Garden - outdoor concerts performed by the Fort Worth Symphony Orchestra. The Gardens, due south of our house about a mile or so, put on a spectatular fireworks show after each concert, so twice a week in June, we're jolted aware about 10 o'clock, at which time we run outside to watch through the pecan trees. (Truth be told, it always catches us by surprise, and takes us a minute to realize what that POPPING noise is!)

5. Shopping. There's a brand new Super Target 6 minutes from my driveway. Even closer is University Park Village, with its hip shops (Gap, William-Sonoma, White House/Black Market, Harold's, Pottery Barn, Barnes and Noble) and eateries (Celebration, Panera, Cafe Express, Blue Mesa). Scrapbook stores are an easy drive, too, including Recollections, Hobby Lobby, Michaels and Joann's!

4. It's safe! We're ranked #9 on the list of "safest cities with 500,000 or more population."

3. We're friendly! It's true: Texas is known as "the friendly state", and that includes our drivers. Well, sorta. Texans are in just as big a hurry as anyone anywhere. Venture outside the boundary created by Loop 820 and you'll enter a whole new world of tailgaters and cutter-offers. But in Fort Worth proper, driving is relatively painless. The city is laid out in such a way that it's even possible to go ANYwhere within Fort Worth without ever having to drive on a freeway. This I know is true, because my friend Dela, who is 70+, has NEVER driven on a Fort Worth freeway, and that woman's been all over creation. :)

2. Neighborhoods. For a city our size, we still feel like a small hometown! That's because we have pockets of neighborhoods instead of ugly urban sprawl. Oh, okay. So we have urban sprawl too. But only if you head south or north. Avoid those developing areas. Instead, search out the established neighborhoods near the city's center... Bluebonnet Hills, University Place, Monticello, Berkeley Place, Mistletoe Heights, Tanglewood, Ryan Place, Arlington Heights. These aren't subdivisions. They're neighborhoods. And yes, there's a difference.

1. Me. I live here! And I can never have too many scrapping friends nearby. :)

15 years, 36 inches

I got this idea from Kristi, who doesn't read my blog (loser nerd), so I don't HAVE to give her credit, but I'm a good friend that way....

ANYWAY. I got this idea from Kristi who scrapped a double page timeline of her marriage. I don't know how she crammed 18 years onto 2 12x12 sheets of paper, because I had a VERY hard time cramming 15 years onto 3 sheets!

Our anniversary celebration this year was decidedly low-key. What'd we do, you ask? Well. You'll be jealous when I tell you! First, we went to the mall to have our portrait made at that place next to Build-a-Bear that specializes in children's portraiture because Darren and I have never EVER had a professional portrait done of just the two of us, not even at our wedding, and I had a coupon for a free 8x10 and was determined to USE it. So we showed up just in time to find - I am not making this up - that the group just ahead of us had ten kids! If you count the Build-A-Bears they all had in tow, there were 20 of 'em. It was mayhem. So we high-tailed it outta there to wait out our 35 minutes in the Food Court. WHEE!

For our fancy anniversary dinner, we shared a big honkin' slice of gooey, undercooked pizza from the Italian place, and ate it with a fork to avoid sloppage. It is widely known that I can't eat without glopping a big hunk of something right smack on my boob shelf. Happens every time. So to avoid any chance of that happening, I only ate two bites, and I ate them very carefully. It worked. No glops! :)

Back at the studio, our photographer asked, "Is there any certain pose you want?" Thinking she was the professional, I said, "Nothing in particular, but I don't want stiff, formal, boring portraits. I want our poses to be casual, relaxed and fun."

Okey doke. She didn't get it. Our portraits looked like really, really bad church directory pictures. You know... me sitting on a stool, Darren standing behind me with his hand on my shoulder. I knew something was amiss with the photographer when she said to me, "Look down. I'm getting a glare on your glasses."... and I said, "But now I'm looking out over the top of my frames. Won't that look silly?".... and she said, "No, you won't be able to tell."

Yah. You could tell. You could tell that I was looking down to avoid glasses glare and that I was staring over the top of my glasses. Not a good look. Plus, when one looks DOWN, one's double chin(s) (oooooh how I hate having to add that nasty S!) take center stage and sing at the tops of their lungs, OFF KEY. Hmpf.

The good news is, I got out of there for only $12, buying only a sheet of wallets of the single almost-decent pose and taking my free 8x10. Thank goodness for the coupon. Dani saw the photo and said, "I could've done better than that."

"Yes, and you will. Tomorrow afternoon," I answered.

"I wasn't offering," she retorted.

"Yes you were," I countered.

Darren and I stayed up til the wee hours that night shuffling through boxes and boxes of old photos, remembering silly things, laughing at funny stories, and having a grand ol' time. As we perused the photos, we also made a timeline of the big events in our 15+ years together, pulling photos as we came across them. Today, I assembled it all and framed it. I love, love, LOVE how it turned out! It will hang on our bedroom wall.


I'd thank Kristi for the inspiration, but since she's a loser nerd who doesn't read my blog, I won't bother. :)

Aidan

When we were expecting Aidan in 2000, we knew his middle name would be Lane, after my beloved cousin. We had NO CLUE what first name we would choose, except that we didn't want something trendy or cute. One afternoon, while driving to Oklahoma (I can still remember WHERE we were between here and Oklahoma when it happened... passing through the north Texas town of Sanger.), a song that I'd known for years came on the CD player. It was "Let Mercy Lead" by Rich Mullins. I'd listened to it a hundred times, but never closely enough to pick up on the fact that the little boy he was singing to was named "Aidan". I loved the message in the song, and I loved the name. I'd only heard it once, EVER (the actor Aidan Quinn);I'd never heard of another kid with the name.

Darren liked it, too, because Aidan was the name of the hero in "Byzantium", a book about Irish Monks that he'd recently read and enjoyed. When we looked up the meaning of the name, the deal was sealed. "Little Fire". At first, I balked. "I'm not sure I want my son to be a little ball of fire," I worried. But Darren threw a different perspective on it when he answered. "Unless he has fire for God. That'd be a good thing."

So we named him Aidan Lane. For the first year, no one could pronounce it. The old ladies at church couldn't even remember it! "What's his name again? Adrian? Adien? Adam?" Then, out of NOWHERE, People Magazine listed it as the number one baby name of 2001. I was CRUSHED. The name I'd so carefully picked out to be unique - the name I'd never heard before - was now the trendiest name in the nation.

I soon learned the reason: Aidan was Carrie's boyfriend on Sex and the City.

"AGH!" I cried upon hearing that. "That's disgusting! I don't want people to think I named my baby after some man slut on Sex and the City!" Laughing, Sherilyn assured me that Aidan was the one GOOD, LIKABLE, RESPECTABLE guy on the show. It did little to lift my spirits, though. I still had a baby with a trendy name.

He's 5 now. There are Aidans everywhere. I fear that he'll start Kindergarten with Aiden, Aden, Ayden, Aidyn and Aydyn in his classroom.

Today, I learned that it's the number one baby name for 2005. There's this blog that I sometimes check in on. I don't know the author; in fact, I don't even remember how I came to stumble on her musings. She's expecting a boy, and has asked for name suggestions. Check out her post today, and you'll understand why I'm pouting. :)Amy's Humble Musings. Thing is, I can't argue with her. It's the same blog I'd have written about the name "McKenzie" back in 2000, had blogging been my thang then.

Aidan. Trendy? Yah.
Maybe this just means he'll be the cool kid in the class - the one who makes great grades but is also a popular athlete. The one who the teachers like even though he's the class clown. The one who earns the respect of his peers because he's fair and fun at the same time. And maybe, just maybe, he'll have such a fiery faith that the whole school will know it's cool to be a Christian.

Aidan. Trendy name or not, he's my classic little man.
And may I just say: when he starts Kindergarten next fall, he'll be the CUTEST, SMARTEST, coolest Aidan in the school!

Roots

I rented a sewer snake today. 100 feet of one. And yes, size does matter.

HOW does a pecan tree send tiny, angel-hair-pasta-looking roots THROUGH PVC pipe? Not once, but over and over and over again until the angel hairs meet inside and become one giant, overcooked, starchy BLOB?

Dunno. It's a miracle of nature. But the blob is out now, the sewer snake has been returned to The Home Depot, and all is well.

I know you were on the edge of your seat wondering how it all came out.

(bwahaha)

Saturday Shmaturday

1 gallon AMAZING! Liquid Fire! - $20
1 cheap auger - $11
countless trips out the front door with buckets of backed up sewer water, a week's worth of laundry sorted on the kitchen floor ready to be laundered, a whole day scheduled HEAVY with stuff that NEEDED to be done but wasn't because we dealt with the first Old House Issue of the year of our Lord 2006 - aw, shuddup.

How Stacy Got Her Groove Back

Tomorrow, I'm sending a package to Utah. It contains scrapbook layouts. They're not for a client, but I've sweated and fretted over them as if they were. They feature my own kids' photos, and photos of friends, and photos of my sister's family. See, I'm entering my first scrapbook publishing contest: Creating Keepsakes' Hall of Fame. Twenty-five winners will be announced. Last year, over 750 people entered. I don't stand much of a chance!

I'd become bored and lazy about scrapbooking. I'd worked so much for clients that I'd completely neglected my own photos. In fact, at the Fortress scrapbooking retreat, I didn't even TAKE my own. I was trying to finish a client job. Is that CRAZY or what?! lol

I decided about mid-way through January to give this contest a shot. The deadline was less than a month away when I started. But I've always worked best under pressure, and for the last two weeks, every time I finished a few client pages, I rewarded myself with a page of my own. I've stretched my limits, experimented with new products, tried new techniques... and I've had a BLAST! I'm completely enamored with scrapbooking again.

I decided to enter because I've been coveting the newest, neatest die cut machine, the Wishblade. It would save hours of cutting time, and it would be a lot more versatile and easier to use than the old-fashioned steel dies I currently use. But there's a drawback: it costs $500. It so happens that the prize money for Hall of Fame is $500. I decided to go for it!

Tonight, Darren made the snide comment, "You could've EARNED $500 with the time you've spent on the phone talking about this contest." Punk. He doesn't get it. It's become bigger than the money. Even if I don't win a spot in the Hall of Fame, I have some fantastic layouts that I love (and I didn't compromise my style in the pursuit for publication, so these will be layouts that I'll always love). And, I got my groove back! That's prize enough! :)

Pray for Logan

A couple of weeks ago, I blogged about Logan, the son of my friend Sherlyn. Logan has leukemia. Tonight, the local CBS station did a feature story about him. You can view it here.

word cloud

I love words. If you've been to my house, you know that I have use words as decor. My scrapbook pages are never complete without lots of words. And so I think this is just about the coolest thing to hit blogging since the celebrity look-a-like software of last night. heh.



How cool to have the history of my blog all typed up in a nice little box. I think I'll print it and hang it above my desk. :)

Wanna do yours?
Clicky Clicky.

something about the way i look tonight

So. Veronica made me do it. I registered atMyHeritage.com so that I could see which celebrity I look most like. Here's how it works: you choose the most flattering photo of you that's already loaded on your computer because you're too lazy to go get the most recent professional portrait and scan it in... and you upload it to myHeritage. This is the photo I chose. It was taken 3.5 years ago.

And this, my friends, is who I most resemble:


WELL. In a huff, I decided that that.just.would not do! Let's face it: Elton is an ulgy woman. So I thought I'd be better off using a more recent photo, and I uploaded THIS one, taken last summer in Ireland:

MyHeritage worked its magic, and gave me this result:


Hmpf. Maybe it's the bangs. Yah. It's the bangs. I don't HAVE bangs anymore. So I decided to upload the MOST recent photo of me - one taken two weekends ago at a scrapbooking retreat:


I got the following result:


In one final, desperate attempt, I decided to upload the nastiest photo of me on my hard drive. I'm shooting for WOMAN here. Even hideously ugly woman would suffice.


You can imagine my dismay when this popped up as my look-a-like:


The bitch, oh the bitch, oh the bitch is back.
(Cold stone sober, as a matter of fact.)

I s'pose I'd rather look like Elton John than Jim Carrey.
But STILL. I was really, reallllly hoping for Catherine Zeta-Jones. That MyHeritage is jacked UP.

lolololol

new word in the Kocur boys' vocabulary

Aidan: Mommy, can I play in the sandbox?
Mommy: No. We're fixin' to go get Sissy.
Aidan: Lame.
Mommy: What?
Aidan: LAME.
Mommy: (laughing) Lame?
Aidan: LAYMuh!

then he huffed and walked off.

crack.me.UP!

one for the memory books

We attend church in the inner city - the GHETTO - and let me tell ya. Our song service isn't ordinary. We're on our feet most of the time, singing, having a good time, not bein' scared to raise our hands if the feeling hits us. And man, do we JAM. For a cappella singing, I must say: it is ROCKIN'! I love it.

Aidan and Ian generally don't participate. They mostly sit in their seats, pouty-faces to the crowd, refusing to be drawn in by the energy-enthused music. This, I readily admit, is my fault. I let them stay up too late on Saturday nights. Must get better about that.

So ANYWAY. They rarely sing along, and I'm always surprised when, at home, they bust in to song. "Hey!" I accuse them. "You DO know those songs. Let's hear some singin' next time we're at Fortress, okay?"

Tonight, we were cruisin' down the road in The Van, when Aidan started singing "Firm Foundation". Soon enough, Ian joined in. I was stunned. Really. I was. It's not a kid-friendly song like, say, "Get Right Church" or "Tell Me LOUDER, Where Your Jesus At (Whoop,THERE IT IS!)" or "View that Holy City" with all its choreographed fun parts. But nonetheless, Aidan and Ian were in the backseat, belting out "Firm Foundation" with their sweetest voices.

"...Jesus, you're my firm foundation. I put my trust in your holy bird..."

"NO, AIDAN! You're singing it wrong!" shouted Ian, completely and totally offended. "It goes like THIS: 'I put my trust in your holy WORM!"

They argued about it for a mile, while I struggled to keep the van on the overpass between rocking fits of laughter.

"Jesus, you're my firm foundation. I put my trust in your Holy Word." Maybe I'll correct them tomorrow. But tonight, I just had to let it slide. :)

Fifteen

Fifteen Reasons I'm Still Happily Married to the One I Love

1. He tells me I'm beautiful, and makes me believe it.
2. He makes me laugh, and he laughs at me.
3. He's hard-working and persistent about making our dreams happen.
4. He's compassionate and kind to other people. (that's HOT.)
5. He kisses me goodbye every morning while I snooze away, and never complains that I'm too lazy to get up and see him off.
6. He does selfless little things every day (like driving the un-air-conditioned van in the summertime so I don't have to).

7. He's full of surprises. (See the tulip bulbs he bought me last week? They bloomed just in time for our anniversary!)
8. He calls me from work, just because.
9. He doesn't own me.
10. He's the type of Daddy I'd have chosen for my kids if I had been able to choose. (Funny how that worked out, huh? I couldn't tell at 20 what kind of Dad he'd become.)
11. He's not afraid to evolve and change and try new things. (except for Japanese food. He won't give it a chance.)
12. He's forgiving (and gracious about it).
13. He takes care of me the way every woman wants to be taken care of.
14. He delights in seeing me happy, comfortable, fulfilled, etc.
15. He keeps growing and improving and stretching and dreaming, so that every year is better than the last.

Fifteen years seems like such a long time, but it's just a drop in the bucket, really. Here's to the rest of our lives. I love you Darren!

Tagged

What were you doing 10 years ago?
*I was looking at elementary schools, trying to figure out where to move my family, because I didn't want Dani to attend the scary elementary school where we lived.

What were you doing one year ago?
* Ummm... probably the same thing I'm doing now. Sitting at the computer in the middle of the night when I should be heading to bed. Heh.

Five snacks you enjoy:
*Wheat Thins and cream cheese
*Chips and Salsa and Queso
*popcorn with plain M&Ms mixed in
*carrots and ranch dressing
*Cheddar Peppers with ranch from Sonic

Five songs, to which you KNOW all the lyrics:
*Faithfully (Journey) - and every other 80s Journey song, actually
*Running Just To Catch Myself (Mark Shultz) - it's all Dani's fault
*everything by James Taylor
*Bohemian Rhapsody (Queen)
*728b

Five things you would do, if you were a millionaire:
*Pay off our house
*Have needed repairs and remodeling done
*Support a full-time adult minister for Fortress
*By a vacation home in the mountains
*Use it often, and let my loved ones use it often

Five bad habits:
*picking at my cuticles
*staying up too late
*interrupting people. I HATE that I do it, but I do it.
*saying "in a minute" to the boys all.day.long.
*sleeping too late

Five things you like doing:
*scrapbooking my own photos
*IMing with my scrappin' buds
*hanging out with my Fortress peops
*playing Scrabble with Darren
*just bein' with my kids

Five things you would never wear, buy, or get new again:
*a minivan. But even as I say that, I get a feeling that it'll happen anyway. Stupid practical, gas-friendly things that they are.
*low-rise jeans, even though the first time was by assident. WHY do they even COME in my size??? lol
*expensive shampoo. Love my Suave, baby!
*CDs. I buy by the song, now...not by the CD. :)
*blue eyeliner. GACK.

Five favorite toys:
*my camera
*my computer
*the 7" TV/DVD player Darren bought me for my office
*my new Tonic 12" trimmer that hasn't even arrived yet, but I know I'll love it
*my cell phone. I am naked without it!

What will you be doing one year from now?
*Probably sitting here at the computer, thinking, "Well, it's almost DAYBREAK. I might as well just stay up."

What will you be doing ten years from now?
*Getting ready to leave for our 25th Anniversary trip to..... huh. GREECE? Italy? New Zealand? African (photo) Safari? Alaskan Cruise? :-)

Mail from Oz

Look!!! Is this GORGEOUS??

It's KNITTED. Yep, you read that right. It's knit with wire. (Knitted with wire? You knitting word nerds help me out here.)

My sweet friend Veronica (from Australia) sent it to me. When she was here in November, she was knitting a wire bracelet with beads, and I was in awe. I immediately remembered a couple of necklaces I had hanging in my closet that I never wear... necklaces that I bought several years ago from my friend Victoria who was (is) a jewelry maker. But because of my stupid ugly thyroid goiter (ew, I hate that word!), I can hardly stand to wear necklaces anymore, so I don't. But anyway... I still have Victoria's necklaces because I couldn't bear to part with them. They're made of wonderful beads, including Swarovski crystals. I happily gave them to Veronica, saying that I'd love for them to go to a good home, and that I knew she would give them new life. I added that she could make me a bracelet with some of the beads someday. ;)

Someday came today!! I love it. LOVE, LOVE, LOVE it.

In fact, i LOVE it! :D

Thanks, V. Makes me miss you all over again. MUAH!

Fortress Scrapbooking Retreat

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am... stuck in the middle with you.


Last weekend was our much-anticipated Fortress Scrapbooking Retreat. The fourteen of us accomplished a weekend page total of 169 layouts.


WOO HOO! There is so much talent in this group of women. Nikki has an all-around amazing artistic ability. At one point, Summer asked me, "How can I make a banana?" My answer: "Ask Nikki to draw one." And she did. A perfect banana. Her lettering is amazing. I think she made titles for everyone there!

Then there's Nookie. It's been so much fun to watch her style evolve. She's got a great eye for color, and her pages are always interesting and fun, busy with fibers and rub-ons and lots of texture. Kaki, a first-time-scrapper, blew us away with her artsy-fartsy pages. Kristi continued to kick butt with her patterned papers. She can TOTALLY make the most random assortment of papers look good together. Cara spent all of Friday night saying, "I quit. I don't know where to start.", but as soon as she got going, she rocked ON with her bad self, creating some masterpieces. ("Hot Rod", anyone?) Lety made some beautiful layouts of her adorable daughter, but it was her heartfelt journaling that made me beam with pride. There was a time when Lety wouldn't write ANYthing on her pages. Now her journaling is the focal point. Mel pumped out page after page, happily scrapping away without having to share her tools and stickers with her daughters. Ms. D discovered (to my dismay, but I'll get over it) decorative scissors. Nathalie started her son's college football recruiting album. Listen to me now: someday, when Anthony is famous, I can say I played a role in helping his Mom create his first scrapbook. Someday, when he's a multi-million dollar NFL dude, I hope he'll remember my name and hire me to do HIS family's albums! :)

We had a FABULOUS time. It was the first Fortress retreat where we experienced true relaxation. I invited a guest speaker to come do our devos, so none of us had to prepare for that. We decided to let the cottage prepare and serve our meals, so we didn't have to do meal-planning, shopping, cooking, OR clean-up. All we did was sleep, eat, scrap, laugh, eat, laugh, scrap, laugh. I am not exaggerating when I say that I laughed until I ached. At one point, while literally rolling around on the floor in the bathroom, gasping for air between guffaws, with Cara leaning over me trying to catch HER breath, I had to ask myself, "Self? Are you sure you can't be pregnant? About 9 months pregnant? 'Cause this sure feels like back labor!" I'm telling you. The laughter hurt THAT bad. But man, it was fun.

We played the cup game, and the "It's a What" game, and some other game that I totally could NOT catch a clue on, which at 5 a.m. was a pretty hilarious thing. We busted into song at all times of day and night, we spent an hour outside taking photos. "Ok, now you and me." "Ok, now me in the middle." "Wait, get one with my camera." "Now let's build a pyramid." "Oops, take another one, my eyes were closed." SUCH FUN.


We also took a photo of our wrists, to send to Baby Ira. THe green bracelets say "Ira Lester Hays", and are meant to remind us to keep praying for him.

MAN, I needed that weekend. It took so long to get here and it was over too fast. And you know what? The whole purpose of the retreat was to minister to the ladies we love at Fortress. But I was ministered to just as much as anyone was. Sometimes, the middle's not such a bad place to be.

On a lighter note...

Joe thinks he's uncool. *I* happen to think Joe is pretty DARN cool. He reads the latest books, is hip to the current music trends, and watches cool movies. I know all of this from reading his blog. PLUS, he lives in Brooklyn at the other end of the building from Heath Ledger. If that isn't cool, what is? Besides all that, I have to believe that Joe is cool, because if he's not, where does that leave ME?

I used to be cool. I did. No, seriously. I have the photos to prove it... me with my blue eyeliner perfectly applied to the inner rim of my eyes; with my jeans tight-rolled and the leather laces on my top-siders coiled tight. Later, in college... me with my funky shades and hot pink lipstick, blaring "In Your Eyes" so loudly from my jam box that the sound reverberated off the 8-story wall of Kerr Hall and bounced back, blanketing all of Kerr Beach in song; me zipping around town in my bright yellow VW bug, with the windows down, no matter the weather. Even a few years ago, when working at a hip store on the Boulevard, I was sorta cool with my manicured nails, highlighted hair, custom-beaded jewelry.

So what happened?

Last fall, a friend called and asked, "Are you watching Oprah? Turn it on! She's doing a show called "Women Who've Let Themselves Go." I tried not to be offended.

I married a geek (it's okay...he admits it, too), and I always thought I'd be the cool parent, hands down. But no. Dani says that DARREN is the cooler one. How did THAT happen?

I picked Dani up from school a couple of weeks ago, wearing pajama pants and sporting greasy hair. I prayed fervently that God protect me from any and all idiot drivers, 'cause if I happened to get in a wreck that day, I SWEAR I would not have gotten out of my car.

I drive a purple mini van, which to my credit, I've ALWAYs said I was too cool for. But I drive it nonetheless.

I listen to hip music, but don't be fooled... it's not because I'm cool. It's because I'm watching out for what I DON'T want Dani and my Fortress kids listening to. "My Humps", anyone? "Laffy Taffy"?

I admitted to the whole world wide web that I like John Denver.

I'm so not cool.

Once, a few years ago, Karen and I decided we wanted Starbucks. Cool enough. Standing in line, I saw that they had cigars for sale at the register, and being COOL, I bought one. I love a good cigar. Sitting outside at the dark table in the cold winter air, I tried in vain to get that thing lit. Over and over, I tried, striking the match, puffpuffpuff, to no avail. Finally, I realized that it was a chocolate cigar. Karen still busts into laughter when we recall that night. Looking back, I think that's when my coolness went right out the window.

So it all boils down to this.

If Joe's not cool, then maybe I never was.

Just don't tell my daughter. She doesn't need any more proof.

Maybe Just Ain't Enough

They say that bad news comes in threes. If that's true, I'm done. Yesterday, the letter. This afternoon, word that Baby Ira has indeed reherniated - an almost unheard of recurrance. Click on Joe's blog link to the right to read more. And then 2 hours ago, news that my friend Sherlyn's (not Sherilyn...two different people)13-year old son has just been diagnosed with leukemia. My thoughts immediately went straight to Elaine, my friend in high school who was diagnosed the day after a slumber party (at which she was unusually fatigued) and died 5 weeks later, a week after her 15th birthday. Leukemia has scared the crap out of me ever since. I ache for Sherlyn and Sharon (her Mom, who is also a dear friend to me), and I lift Logan up in prayer as I type. Oh, Lord, send us a miracle! WE NEED A MIRACLE!

Sometimes when I can't find words to pray, I simply say, "God. Be here. Be real to me. BE REAL TO ME." I know that He hears my wimpers and moanings and makes sense of them. Other times, when I fall to my knees, a song will pop into my head. Truly, I think it's the Holy Spirit, giving me words when He knows I have none of my own. It happened as I typed this... the words as Rich Mullins sang them all those years ago....

this, Joe and Laura... and Sherlyn and Sharon and Allie... and E, A, A, V, B, R, and C... this is my prayer for you. Hey. It's my prayer for me too.

There's bound to come some trouble to your life
But that ain't nothing to be afraid of
There's bound to come some trouble to your life
But that ain't no reason to fear
I know there's bound to come some trouble to your life
But reach out to Jesus, hold on tight
He's been there before and He knows what it's like
You'll find He's there

There's bound to come some tears up in your eyes
That ain't nothing to be ashamed of
I know there's bound to come some tears up in your eyes
That ain't no reason to fear
I know there's bound to come some tears up in your eyes
Reach out to Jesus, hold on tight
He's been there before and He knows what it's like
You'll find He's there

Now, People say maybe things will get better
People say maybe it won't be long
And people say maybe you'll wake up tomorrow
And it'll all be gone
Well I only know that maybes just ain't enough
When you need something to hold on
There's only one thing that's clear

I know there's bound to come some trouble to your life
But that ain't nothing to be afraid of
I know there's bound to come some tears up in your eyes
That ain't no reason to fear
I know there's bound to come some trouble to your life
Reach out to Jesus, hold on tight
He's been there before and He knows what it's like
You'll find He's there

words and music by Rich Mullins

Bottled

Today I received a letter that changed my life. It came from someone I love with ever fiber of my heart, from the deepest depth of my being. It bore a message that shook me, scared me, and left me reeling and fumbling for balance as my vision blurred and my mind numbed and my thoughts ran the gamut from shock to sadness to bitterness to anger to confusion to worry to... where I am now.

And I'm not entirely sure where that is.

The message the letter brought is something that has been bottled for far too long, allowed to fester and spoil, dropped on hard concrete and shaken up, carefully stored at the back of the cupboard until an unknowing party popped the cork and sprayed the unsuspecting with shock and sadness and bitterness and anger and confusion and worry and...

I know this isn't making much sense. Don't ask me any questions. Simply pray for the ones I love. God will know for whom you're praying. Pray for clarity, for courage, for honesty, for understanding, for release, for repentence and forgiveness, for calm and sanity, for wisdom, for peace.

For me, pray specifically for courage, clarity and long-suffering. For I've been caught in a place no one ever wants to be: the middle. And although I'm here as an unwilling participant, I'm here with everything that IS me, with every ounce of love this heart can muster. But me isn't enough. I can't go into this battle alone. I can't go in with Darren. I can't go in with anyone but God. Pray that I'll remember that when Goliath starts taunting. 'Cause he will.

Lots of Jolly

Dear Aidan,

It's been almost a month since Christmas, and you still bust out into song on a daily basis, singing, "Deck the hall with lots of jolly, fa la la la la la la la la!" You sang it that way all season long, and I never corrected you, 'cause why NOT deck the hall with lots of jolly. I aspire to me more like you!

You are a funny little man. You know how to make people laugh and you take great pleasure in that ability. Your little brother thinks you're the coolest thing since those light-up swords from the dollar store. I love to watch the two of you at play. You don't see it, but I do: the way Ian watches you, the way his eyes twinkle and his nose crunches and the way his little mouth twitches just before he falls into gales of laughter over something you're doing. He anticipates that laughter. He knows it's coming. He trusts you to tickle his funny bone, and you never fail him.

For the past two weeks, you and Ian have been obsessed with The Little Rascals movie. I've dubbed the two of you Alfalfa and Spanky. Ian LOOKS just like Spanky, but YOU, sweet Aidan, you ARE Alfalfa. You're so romantical! Sometimes, when you climb up on the couch and give me an unexpected kiss, I call you "My Alfalfanator". You always screw up your face and say, "Don't call me that, Mom!"... but I think you secretly like it. You're affectionate and so congnizant of people's feelings. You know what to say and how to say it, and you have a natural gift of making people feel better.

As much as you enjoy making people laugh, I think that even more, you love to laugh yourself! The happiest noise I've ever heard in my life is your laughter. It's music. Sometimes it's a symphony, sometimes it's an electric guitar riff, sometimes it's twinkling chimes carried on the wind... but it's always music. In this photo, it's the chimes leading up to the riff. I was taking photos of you at Trinity Park, and you said to Ian, "Make me laugh!" He stuck his tongue out, and you loved it. He turned around and shook his bottom at you, and you laughed even harder. I'm surprised the photos came out in focus, 'cause I'm sure there was some camera shake going on. I was laughing too - but not at Ian's antics. I was laughing at your laugh. It's infectious.

You are joy personified. I love you, Aidan!

Cuz I didn't do the last one

Four jobs you've had in your life: radio station promotional mascot - an elephant - hot, huge, heavy head, HATED that job (high school), night manager at Payless Video (college), custom invitation designer (during my 20s), professional scrapbooker (now).

Four movies you could watch over and over: The Princess Bride, The Three Amigos, all of Oiser's scenes in Steel Magnolias, Grease.

Four places you've lived: rural SW Kansas, small-town East Texas, college town Denton, Fort Worth

Four TV shows you love to watch: American Idol (did I just admit that out loud?), David Letterman... I don't watch TV much, especially since we don't get HGTV and VH1 anymore.

Four places you've been on vacation: Paris, Yosemite, Yellowstone, New England in the fall

Four websites you visit daily: ScrapShare, a whole slew of blogs that I've bookmarked (always starting with Joe's, then Dani's, then Bobbie's....), Fox news, twopeasinabucket

Four of your favorite foods: baked potatos (loaded), Darren's burgers on the grill, Mom's chicken and shrimp gumbo, deviled eggs

Four places you'd rather be: Colorado ('cause I miss the mountains), NYC ('cause I want to meet Ira), Tennessee ('cause I wamma play with my sister), upstairs (where I'm heading soon, to snuggle with Darren)

Four CDs you can't live without: Rich Mullins' Songs (I and II), Sting's Fields of Gold, Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, the ScrapShare Texas II compilation CD

Four magazines you read: I subscribe to Mary Engelbreit's Home Companion, Texas Monthly (my favorite!), Family Fun and Paper Kuts (a scrapbooking mag)

Four cars you've owned: '77 baby blue Lincoln Versailles, '82 reddish Plymouth Laser TURBO, '72 bright yellow VW bug, '04 midnight blue Toyota Corolla

What makes me laugh

I was watching Letterman tonight, and he had Albert Brooks on (who completley cracks me up!), and in a clip of his latest movie, he asks a hotel clerk, "What makes you laugh?". The clerk answered, "Animals that act like humans. You know... like a dog writing a letter, or a chicken on the phone." Aidan fell out on the floor laughing. "A CHICKEN on the PHONE!", he exclaimed between giggles. Animals acting like humans makes Aidan laugh, too.

Yesterday, Darren called me "The Chuckler". He says I chuckle a lot. My former boss used to tell me that I have a laughing voice. My friend Victoria W. says I have Betty Rubble's giggle. I guess I laugh a lot more than I realize. And I realize that I do laugh a lot. I find humor in everything. The best exercise I get is a good belly laugh - throwing my head back and letting the laugh come tumbling out, eventually running out of oxygen and, doubling over, slowly allowing it to peter out in a body-rocking, belly-jiggling, side-splitting, headache-inducing quake. MAN, I love laughs like that.

So without further ado: Things That Make Me Laugh

1. The latest Nextel commercial, where the office guys are dancing like freaks to that song from the 80s, "Oh Baby Baby, ooh babybaby..."... and the boss comes in and, freaking out, says, "We don't know how many converters we have! We don't know where our shipment is! And I can't find Koffman anywhere!" The guys stop dancing long enough to pull their Nextel phones out of their pockets and give him the answers he's looking for, then they resume dancing. I espcially love the Asian guy sitting on the desk running the jam box. His expressionless expression is SPOT ON. Cracks. Me. UP!!You can watch the commercial HERE.

2. Ashlie the Cat. I swear, this cat knows she's being funny. Sometimes when I walk into the room, she's waiting for me. As soon as I round the corner, she jumps out at me, then, just like in the cartoons, she peels out on the hardwood floor, running like mad but frozen in space, eventually blazing across the room like a canon shot. Then, she waits for me to look up and she does it again! Cracks. Me. UP!

3. Ian. The things that come out of his mouth astound me and make me laugh at the same time. This weekend, while Darren and Dani were out of town, I took the boys to our favorite local dive: Ol' South Pancake House. The boys ordered Pigs in a Blanket, because it had a funny name. As SOON as our food was delivered, Ian announced to the restaurant, "I HAVE TO POOP!" I said, "You're kidding me. Well, you'll have to wait. You should've told me before our FOOD came." I picked up my fork and he announced, "MY POOP WON'T WAIT." This is not what struck me as funny. This is: While in the bathroom, I muttered, "I hope my food isn't gonna be COLD when we get back." Thirty seconds later, Ian said, "Mommy. You're gonna be sorely disappointed." "Why's that, Ian?", I asked, while wondering WHERE he picked up that colloquialism. "'Cause your food's gonna be cold, alright." Cracked me right up. Ian says things DAILY that send me into gales of laughter. He doesn't have to try to be funny. He just is.

4. Craig Ferguson, host of The Late Late Show on CBS. I can't help it. He's just FUNNY. The best late night host to come down the pike since Dave. (And you know I love Dave!)

5. Martha in California. Have MERCY, that woman is funny. If I'm on the computer and Darren hears me chuckle, he says, "Martha?" Yup. Every time.

6. Go Fug Yourself. My laughing friend Ginger turned me on to this blog, which criticizes in a totally rude and mean but completely HILARIOUS way, the fashion disasters caught on film in Hollywood. Read it and wheeze.

7. Late night infomercials. There used to be one on at about 3 a.m. featuring male enlargement wonder drugs. Oh. My. FlyingSpaghettiMonster, those cracked me up! The first time I saw one of those was right after SHerilyn moved back from Holland. We were having a scrapbooking marathon here at my house, with the TV on in the background. We almost died laughing that night. My sides hurt thinking about it!

8. Farts. But I've already blogged about THAT, so I won't bore you.

9. Darren. You wouldn't think it, 'cause he's sorta quiet. But he is a very funny guy. He makes me laugh all the time. :)

10. Bill Waterston. I miss Calvin and Hobbes. Wow. Just googled to make sure I had his name right. I can't belive it's been ELEVEN years since he retired! My favorite strip... the ones where Calvin was getting his school pictures taken and the ones where he built headless snowmen and made it look like his Dad had hit them with the car and the ones where he got into it with Suzy and ... and... and...

11. Aidan and Ian repeating lines they learned from watching 1995's "The Little Rascals" over and over and over. (It's their latest movie obsession.) "You're a barf-encrusted jumbo jerk. You're scum between my toes." Sunday morning, after giving the boys a dollar to put in the collection plate at church, they sat their in their seat, quietly singing, "I got a dollar, I got a dollar. I got a dollar, hey hey hey hey." I laughed. Out loud. In church. And I didn't even try to hide it.

So. What makes YOU laugh?

While You Were Sleeping

... we were hot tubbing!

Just the boys and me.
2 o'clock in the morning.
44 degrees outside.
103 degrees in the hot tub.
Plenty of steam.
Fair amount of stars.
Lots of whispering.
Good times.
One for the memory books.

Sitting Duck

On December 20, Aidan started barfing. Poor little guy. We'd eaten at a Chinese buffet that night, and he was the only one who'd had the sausage, so I sorta figured he had food poisoning. Within 24 hours, he was back to his healthy, happy self.

In the early morning hours of December 24, Darren got hit by it. We were at my parents' house, and Darren spent the next 30 hours quarantined in their bedroom, shivering under layers of blankets except when running to the bathroom to upchuck again. He missed all of Christmas Eve and most of Christmas Day. I started thinking that maybe Aidan's WASN't food poisoning.

Four days later, on December 29, Ian threw up. He was at my Mom's house, 3.5 hours away. "Ian just threw up," she said on the phone. "What are you gonna do about it?" There wasn't much I could do long-distance, so I went and got him the next day.

At this point, I was starting to realize that this was a funky-weird virus with a long incubation period. Aidan's probably wasn't food poisoning at all. It was also at this point, after having cared for three throwing up boys, that I started feeling like a sitting duck.

We cancelled our New Year's Eve party, in case we were still carrying the bug, even though on that day, none of us were barfy. Flash forward to January 3. I was downstairs on the computer at 3 a.m. when I heard it: Dani had become the latest victim. I flew up the stairs and held her long hair out of the way while she blew chunks into the toilet.

Yesterday, I bragged to a friend that my whole family had had the barfs since before Christmas, and that I must've worked up a big-time immunity to it, having taken care of the all, because I was the only one who hadn't gotten it.

Then. This morning, about 3 o'clock (WHY do these things always happen in the middle of the night?), I ate my words. Twice. Today, every time I cough, I can taste those words again. Gross.

So. My weekend plans are officially TRASHED. I am so sad. I was gonna spend the weekend with Jeanne and Ginger down in San Antonio.

But instead, I'll hang out here and bleach the house again.

BLECH!

published

Huh. I googled my name for the heck of it (do you ever do that?) and this was #2 on the list. A scrapbooking article written by me! I remember writing it, but I cannot for the life of me remember the circumstances surrounding WHY I wrote it. It had to have been within the last 4 years, because I mention "my sons", and Ian just turned four. Bizarre. That's certainly not long enough to have completely forgotten something. Must've been RIGHT after Ian was born, when I was still suffering from Pregnancy Brain. I have a vague memory of being asked to write an article about Christmas scrapbooking ideas, but I can't remember by whom or why. LOL! Anyway... I've been published, and I don't think I even knew it! :)
I don't know where it was originally published, but evidently, this Lisa chick copied and pasted it here at some point...

: Holiday Scrapping Traditions
Posted bylisa on Tuesday, November 12 @ 13:36:01 EST
Contributed by lisa

by Stacy Kocur

The holidays are my favorite thing to scrap each year. In fact, I have an album dedicated to just Thanksgiving and Christmas! Our Holiday albums come off the bookcase each year and become part of the holiday décor, taking center stage on top of the piano. It’s fun to look back over past holidays and reminisce! Every event and activity we participate in each year gets a place in the album, from decorating the tree to baking cookies to caroling around the piano. But aside from the activities I highlight in the scrapbook, there are several other traditions I’ve included. These are my Five Favorites:

1. I’m Thankful For...Every Thanksgiving, I predecorate a page and set it out with journaling pens. The idea is for each family member to jot down what they’re thankful for and sign their name. Sometimes it takes some prodding to get everyone to participate, but I won’t take no for an answer! Even the little kids participate. If they can’t write yet, they still get to say what they’re thankful for, and someone else writes it down for them. It is awesome to go back and read what we were thankful for in years past! I cherish the page on which my Grandpa wrote: “I am especially thankful for all my family. Just keep on keeping on- striving to do God’s will in all that you do. I love each and every one of you. Grandpa Lewis.” He died the following August, and I am grateful beyond words to God that I have a lasting remembrance of Grandpa for my sons who never knew him!

2. Recipes...With the pictures of Thanksgiving dinner (don’t forget to get photos of everyone scurrying around the kitchen in preparation, and of the table before everyone digs in!), I always include a recipe of one of the dishes. If I can get it in my Mom’s handwriting, or an Aunt’s, that’s even better! Christmas cookie recipes go in as well, sometimes on the baking cookies page, and sometimes on the Christmas Eve page, alongside a photo of the cookies we leave out for Santa.

3. Christmas Cards...Making and sending Christmas cards is one of my favorite things about the season! The card we send out always gets a layout all to itself, along with the postage stamp we used that year. It’s also fun to include a layout of all the Christmas card photo rejects!

And for the cards we receive, I do a 2-page spread - if you send us a photograph in your card, it goes in our album! I cut out the signatures and personal notes from the cards and mount them next to the photos. Every once in a while, if there is an exceptionally sentimental note written in a card, even if it doesn’t include a photo, it goes in as well. And I always make room for my favorite card we received that year...uncut. Some years it’s a whimsical Santa Claus-y card, and sometimes it’s a reverent Christian card. Either way, it’s always fun to look back at the cards we received!

4. Dear Santa...the first time I let Dani write in one of our scrapbooks, I was a nervous wreck! She was writing crooked, and misspelling words, and I about hyperventilated! I’m so glad I learned to chill out about things like that, because that first page was a letter to Santa. And even with it’s misspelled words and crooked lines, I wouldn’t change it for the world! It became a tradition...now she writes her wish list in the album every year!

5. What we gave and what we got...Some of my favorite pages are about the presents we give. We always draw names because both my husband and I come from large families. So every year, we’re buying for someone different. I like to journal about what we gave our “secret Santa” each year, along with their reaction to the gift. And of course, it’s nice to look back and be thankful for what we received as well. Some years I include receipts for the gifts we bought - it’ll be interesting to future generations!

I hope this inspires you to start a new scrapbook tradition or two this year! Stock up on film and always have your camera ready to capture those magical holiday moments!

Groupie

Random Memories. I just read one of Veronica's and it reminded me of this one:

Growing up, Saturday was CLEANING DAY. I hated Saturdays. With. A. Passion. Each of us kids had a specific chore, and when we finished that, Mom always had a list ready of more work to do. Our Saturdays belonged to her. The only good thing about Saturdays was Mom's record collection, which we faithfully played over and over each week. One of the albums was called "SuperGirls", and featured hits by the girl groups of the 50s and 60s. I know every word and beat to "Leader of the Pack" (vrooom vrooom!), "My Boyfriend's Back", "It's My Party"....

We also listened to John Denver. Every record he ever made could be found in my Mom's collection. She loved John Denver. LOVED him. And for that reason and that reason alone, I had to pretend that I didn't. The truth was, I loved John Denver, too, but I wouldn't have dared admit it to my Mom or anyone else for that matter. I pretended to be disgusted by the rocky mountain highness of John Denver's music. But I knew every nuance of every verse of every song by heart.

When I was about 13 or 14, I was talking with a group of adults, and for some reason, John Denver came up. I chirped, "My Mom is a John Denver groupie!" I remember that their eyes got big and that someone repeated me, "A John Denver GROUPIE?"

"Oh yah!" I enthused. "She has been ever since she lived in Denver when she was in college. She LOVES him." I went on and on. The grown-ups laughed. I took that as permission to keep going on about what a HUGE groupie my Mom was and how she was trying to make me a groupie too.

It was YEARS later that I learned what a groupie really is. Have mercy. I was embarrassed for myself. All those years later, and I felt sheer mortification for what I'd said all those years earlier.

So just to set the record straight: my Mom is not and never was a John Denver groupie. And I am no longer ashamed to admit it: Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy. :)

Resolutions

This year, I resolved to not make any resolutions. It's just a waste of time, really, since I never seem to adhere to them anyway. And by cracky, I can't even seem to keep a no-resolution resolution, 'cause here I go makin' some!! (Just didn't seem right to blow 'em off so coldly.)

1. Build my business. This includes some smallish details that must be accomplished THIS MONTH:

a. decide on a business name. Nothing cutesy. How does "CowtownStacyDoesn'tSleep" grab ya? No? Suggestions welcomed.
b. Secure the domain name.
c. Design the website and find someone to do the techy stuff.
d. Have brochures and cards printed - FINALLY. Been putting this off for two years now.
e. Call my almost-clients and turn them into definite-clients.
f. Connect with current clients after the holiday craziness.

I've already made some giant strides on the website front... and tomorrow, I'll make those contacts. :)

2. Go walking with Darren 3 nights a week. I think we'll actually DO this. :)

3. Take my medicine every. darn. day.

4. Cook more often than not. Egads.

5. Drink water BEFORE my mouth starts sticking to itself.

6. Get quasi-regular pedicures for my ever-nasty hoof feet.

7. Spend more time with my girlfriends. Life is busy. SO WHAT?

8. Increase my income enough to add a car payment to the budget.

9. Host a dinner party for my neighbors.

10. Host a murder mystery for my best buds.

Hairball

This week while painting the kids' rooms, I passed the 10 o'clock hour listening to a classic rock radio show called "Hairball", which features the Big Hair bands of the 80s. I sang along with Journey (Stone in Love: "Those crazy nights, I do remember in my youth...I do recall, those were the best times, most of all"), Quiet Riot (Cum On, Feel the Noise), Scorpions (Rock You Like A Hurricane). I was surprised at how readily the lyrics sprang back into my head after all these years.

Then tonight, while sitting here at the computer, I started singing along with something that was playing on the TV in the background. Truly, I wasn't even aware that I was singing until Dani said, "MOM. How do you know this song??" I had to stop and think. What was I singing? "...I'll stop the world and melt with you....".

"It's an '80s song," I said.
"WHAT? Who sang it?" she demanded. She was offended that I knew a song that her beloved Bowling for Soup guys were singing.

"Huh. Was it The Police? No. The Cars. No, that's not right, either. Huh. I can't remember."

A google search reminded me that it was Modern English (what did I EVER do before Google??)

Everything comes back around. In the 70s, brown was THE COLOR, but I thought it was hideous. Appliances came in brown, avocado and harvest gold, and they were ugly. This week, I painted Dani's room... brown... and I love it.





In the 80s, Big Hair was the ONLY hair. I had poofy peacock-plume bangs and teased roots, and spent my allowance on superultramegaAquaNet to hold it all in place. I had these things on the side of my head that can best be desribed as ... man. I can't even think of a good description. But I remember how I acheived the look. I'd take the chunk of hair that fell in front of my ear, drench the roots of it in AquaNet until it dripped, then lean sideways and blow-dry the life out of that chunk, so that when I stood upright again, that chunk of hair remained at a 90 degree angle to my cheekbone. It was AWESOME.


It took me years to get over big hair. By the time my 10-year reunion rolled around in 1997, I was beginning to feel okay about going out in public with stick-straight hair. But I STILL felt the need to give my bangs some poof. Jennifer Aniston had stick-straight hair without an ounce of poof, but I still couldn't get past it.

I've been growing my bangs out since July. I've never not had bangs, and since mid-October, they've been on my very.last.nerve. I kept thinking that I'd get used to them. I kept telling myself that if I let them grow just a little bit longer, they'd behave themselves. But the week before Christmas, I'd gotten over it. I went in to see Madalyn, told her that if she couldn't cut my hair and make me like my no-bangs in the process, I was gonna chop the whole mess of it off myself. So she trimmed off 2 inches, gave me long layers again, and said, "Let 'em keep growing. In a month, they'll be where you want 'em."

I don't think I can make it that much longer. Today, it took everything in me not to take Ian's play sword and start hacking away at the bangs. Instead, I went to the bathroom, pulled out the bottle of AquaNet (it comes in a plastic bottle now, not the purple aluminum can with silver fishnet stripes across it), sprayed my bangs down, and gave them the ol' blow-dry. Darren walked in and without meaning to, let his eyes pop. "You're all fixed up," he said. I think what he meant was, "Your hair is big! But I'm not gonna say a word."

For an hour, I was happy. My bangs were AWESOME. Then the molecular structure of the AquaNet broke down, and so did my bangs. Right into my eyes.

Now that I'm finally over the nekkid feeling I used to get when I wasn't weighted down with AquaNet, Big Hair will probably come back. But I won't care this time around. I'd probably fall over and crack my head on the toilet seat if I tried to achieve The Hair these days. So I'll just settle for stick-straight. And when I'm feeling nekkid, I'll crank up Hairball and sing along like it's 1985.