POSSUM = 10 points

martha: ok...last game was just a warm up.
stacy played 'GEODE' for 18 points.
stacy: alrighty then!
martha played 'MOUND' for 9 points.
stacy played 'PUTRID' for 17 points.
stacy: I hear that sound again. I heard it last night and thought someone was breaking in. be right back.
martha: 'k.
martha played 'BAIT,BI,AD' for 22 points.
stacy: maybe something's under the house. It sounds like scratching.
stacy played 'ME,VALE' for 29 points.
martha played 'GRACED' for 18 points.
stacy played 'CHEW' for 24 points.
martha played 'MAD' for 12 points.
martha: oh fer cryin' outloud...I should have exchanged tiles last time!
stacy: dang. I think there's definitely something under the house.
stacy: probably a possum.
stacy: We had a family of 'em last year living in our cedar trees.
martha: Hope it's not a skunk!
stacy played 'PANT,PI,AT' for 24 points.
martha played 'GRAM' for 11 points.
stacy played 'QAT' for 24 points.
martha: guess I can get rid of that u now...
martha played 'BEET' for 18 points.
stacy: It's LOUD! I can hear it thrashing around.
stacy: brb. I gotta go wake darren up.
martha: why? to investigate the noise?
stacy: yah. it's something big. sounds like its running and slamming itself against the house.
stacy played 'CHEWS,SOLED' for 34 points.
martha played 'VOX' for 13 points.
stacy played 'LENGTH' for 14 points.
martha played 'RUSH' for 14 points.
stacy played 'FREE' for 14 points.
martha exchanged 4 tile(s).
(several minutes go by while Stacy and Darren discuss the sounds and wait for them to happen again...)
martha: HONKS
martha: heh, heh, heh!
stacy: sorry
martha: np
stacy: steve irwin is on the job
martha: excellent!
stacy: man, i wish you could hear this thing.
stacy: darren thinks it's inside the air ducts!!
martha: ewwwwwwwww!
stacy: you can hear the metal flashing sound when it's jumping around.
stacy: of course, ol' steve irwin wants to get it himself instead of callin' in the experts.
martha: heh, heh, heh!
martha: Do you hear it during the day?
stacy: Idiot. He's goin' outside. Maybe i should get my camera ready.
martha: Is he in his boxers? LOL!
stacy: no. he put some pj pants on tho
stacy played 'IF' for 5 points.
stacy: oh lord. I think he's going under the house!!
stacy: if he gets mauled, I'll kill him
martha: LOL!
martha played 'ENTRY' for 16 points.
stacy: have mercy. he's under.
stacy: 1:30 in the mornin, and my husband is crawlin' under the house with a flashlight and no other weapon.
martha: oh boy...
stacy: to investigate a HUGE noise coming from probably a BOBCAT for all we know
stacy: or a wild turkey - either way, not good.
martha: It's prolly a lion
stacy: (both have been sighted in our neighborhood recently)
stacy: (but not a lion)
stacy: oh. it's my turn again. sorry.
martha: Odd...I would have thought that you're too urban...
stacy: they think it's 'cause of the river that runs at the bottom of the bluff, 1/2 mile from here
stacy: they come upriver
stacy: the turkey may be an escapee from the zoo, 1/2 mile the other way
martha: Could be a beaver


stacy: rofl
stacy: call my cell
stacy: then you can hear this beast
stacy: nevermind. cell is dead.
martha: that too would require that I get up...LOL!!
stacy played 'NAME' for 6 points.
stacy: you're not taking this as seriously as I am! how ruuuuude!
martha: heh, heh, heh!
martha: If I was there, I would have gone out and slayed the beast for you!
stacy: darren says it smells like a nasty barn under the house.
stacy: grrrrreat
martha: I think thats a normal smell
stacy: i dunno. Darren never smells ANYthing. Remember the gas leak? Remember the rotten potato? Dude never smells anything at all.
martha played 'AYE' for 18 points.
stacy: So if he smells a barn, I'd likely pass out from the stench.
martha: oh yeah. forgot he can't smell!
cowtownstacy played 'NICE' for 7 points.
martha: He hasn't determined what kind of visitor you have?
stacy: he's back out there again. didn't see anything under the house. He has a new idea.
martha played 'SAID,FREED' for 16 points.
stacy: he found a nest. doesn't know what made it
stacy: but he can see the tunnel going under the house from the outside a/c unit
stacy: and there's insulation strewn about around and in the tunnel. probably a possum
stacy: a GIANT ONE! lol
stacy: possums are mean son-of-a-guns, too.
martha: OMG!!
stacy: there's yer excitement! FINALLY!
martha: Can he pull the nest out?
martha: Piss off that possum
stacy: NO WAY!
stacy: he'd then have to get a rabies shot which would set me back 40 bucks!
stacy played 'WET' for 14 points.
martha: Gotta get the nest out, then seal up all ways to go under the house
martha played 'FOLIO,ON' for 18 points.
stacy played 'ZOO' for 24 points.
stacy: Mr. Genius has a plan
stacy: God help us all
martha: what is his plan?
stacy: he's gonna spray wasp spray down the hole tomorrow and try to drive it out!!
stacy: rofl
martha: heh, heh, heh!
stacy: i told him I'd google a better solution that doesn't kill the thing. I don't want it DYIN' under there. Then he'd have to dig it out, and ewwwww.
stacy: he thinks it's a momma possum makin' a nest for her babies-to-be.
martha: I'm thinking of Bill Murray in Caddyshack
stacy: Darren is ROFL!
martha played 'ON,JO' for 13 points.
stacy: He says, "I'm changing my mind. I'm gettin' some dynamite!"
martha: excellent plan...
stacy played 'IVY,XI' for 22 points.
martha played 'KEG' for 8 points.
stacy played 'US,GRAMS' for 20 points.
martha played 'ONUS' for 4 points.
stacy played 'RE' for 4 points.
martha played 'ID,LI' for 5 points.
stacy played 'RID' for 4 points.
The System challenges cowtownstacy for word 'All Words'.
Word All Words is valid.
The System lost the challenge. The System loses a turn.
Stacy wins the game!!
martha: another whoopin!
stacy: sorry for taking so long every time!
stacy: I was sorta distracted.
martha: np!
martha: Hittin' the sheets!
stacy: i'm gonna google
martha: google possum? LOL!
stacy: yup
martha: hope you figure it out!
martha: MUAH!

...to be continued.

bloglifted from Dani's Xanga

Mmm....booooook.
by Dani

There's something about me and new books. Maybe it's the writer/reader in me, or perhaps it's that the idea of having a new world concealed within the pages of new literature that is just waiting for me to explore it. Whatever it is, I eat through books. It is a hunger that can never be fully satisfied, and whenever I am presented with new books, I devour them thouroughly, barely pausing for anything else. I can finish some books in a single sitting, or depending on the length and the difficulty of the content, it may take me about a week.

In the most recent case, it took me just under four days to read Jane Austen's Pride & Prejudice. In fact, I got it Friday night around 9, and I finished it this afternoon around 6. I spent the majority of my Saturday on my bed reading, then as much time as I could spare Sunday. Then, when I couldn't sleep last night because I was feeling sick, I could not resist the temptation to turn on my lamp and spent the otherwise idle, wasted time reading further.

I have always been an avid reader. Parts of my room have always been dedicated to displaying my somewhat small collection of books. I have come from Dr. Suess to Babysitter Club to Harry Potter to my now extremely varied assortment of literature. However, I have started collecting Barnes and Noble's series of classic books, which are small, fabric-covered red hardback books with little bookmarks. I own Pride & Prejudice, Emma (also by Jane Austen), and two Sherlock Holmes books, and am looking forward to continuing my collection.

The high I get from books is short-lived, probably due to the speed at which I read through my new books. However, for tonight I am still entranced by the world of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy.

(for Jenny's reading pleasure, 'cause she requested a fresh entry and I ain't got nothin' to say tonight. Besides... I'm proud as can be that my daughter's an avid reader. She does me proud. :) )

Blackbird

When Dani was a baby, I sang to her all the time. One of my favorite songs was something that you church of Christ types will recognize by its chorus:

The greatest friend you'll ever find is on a lonely mountain.
The highest high you'll ever reach is when you kneel to pray.
The brightest light you'll ever see is when you close your eyes.
Oh Lord you are my first love, at last I realize.

Somewhere along the line, I stopped singing. Basically, for most of Dani's preschool years, I, suppressed by a dark cloud of depression, stopped living altogether. When Dani was about 4 or 5, she (completely out of the blue) said, "Mom, please sing the mountain song." I had no idea what she was talking about. I questioned her and questioned her, but couldn't think of any mountain songs that she might know. I remember singing the first lines to several John Denver songs, but she screwed her face at every one of them. Finally, she said, "The one you sang to me when I was a baby."

Oh, how well I remember the tears that sprang to my eyes that day. I was shocked that she held that memory; it had been so long locked away. I sang it right then, and every night for years after.

When the boys were born, Dani sang to them often. "The Mountain Song", as our family affectionately refers to it, was the first one in her repertoire. The boys are 4 and 5 now, and they still request that song every night at bedtime. Tonight, though, after I sang it, Aidan had a second request:

"Blackbird."
"I don't know a song called Blackbird," I said.
"Yes you do!" he voiced with exasperation, "it's DANI's song!"
AH! The Beatles. Dani learned to play it recently at guitar lessons.

Immediately, I gave myself a mental thwump to the head and googled the lyrics; meanwhile, Ian broke into song, perfectly in tune and tempo: "Blackbird singing in the dead of night..."

Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free.
Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of a dark black night.
Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of a dark black night.
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

I'm no Paul McCartney, but that sure was a fun song to sing.
I hope they request it again tomorrow night. :)

Fitting

I love my teenager.

Tonight, we had a mom-Dani date. First stop was Victoria's Secret, where she was fitted and whisked into a dressing room with a box of 2 dozen bras to try on. An hour later, after plunking down serious dough on good-fitting undergarments, she was one happy camper. (And you know... traditionally, and as recently as last Tuesday, bra shopping has been a detested chore that resulted in tears and frustration, so this was a very welcome experience.) And before you get all testy on me, and start thinking I'm a horrible mother for blogging to the world about my daughter and her bra shopping experiences, let me just clear the air and tell you upfront that she's okay with it, and in fact, plans to blog about it herself. There. Calm down. :)

I remember well being her age and hard-to-fit. I remember the stinging tears that I couldn't fight back as I tried on bra after bra after bra. None of them minimized enough, and back then, most of them resulted in a pointy silhouette, which was horrid. Back then, I wouldn't let my Mom into the dressing room with me, because she had instilled in me a modest streak as rigid as brick. After one shopping trip that ended in crying fits and hurt feelings, my Mom's friend Carla pitied me and took me shopping herself. She, a card-carrying member of the Well Endowment Club, understood me, whereas my Mother, President Emeritus of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee, did not. Carla introduced me to Bali, with whom I developed a decade-long friendship.

But Bali and Dani never got along.

Dani's never gotten along with ANY bra brand, until Victoria's Secret. Her reaction to the fit and comfort of her new Body By Vic bra was reminiscent of my reaction to Bali all those years ago - elation. She was hilarious. It made me happy.

I love that she's modest yet not ashamed, self-conscious yet not abashed, discreet yet not wary. She's not afraid to walk proudly with her shoulders back, not horrified by the thought of me seeing her half naked in a bra fitting room. She's not a freak like I was. I like to think it's 'cause she doesn't have a freak for a Mom like I did. :)

little things (again)

Friendships, as in ALL things that matter, are strengthened by the little things.

Theresa sent me 4 adorable Mary Engelbreit tins, along with the sweetest note ever. Just because. It was a little thing to her, but a big deal to me.

Elaine texted me when she was sewing her girls' Easter dresses, because the happy fabric reminded her of me and my affinity for all things Mary Engelbreit. A little thing, but it brightened my day.

I came downstairs this morning to discover a voice mail on my cell phone from Nancy, just asking if I'm okay and checking in. She was driving down the road and had nothing better to do really, but it was a great way for me to start my day.

Martha offered to spank me again in Scrabble tonight, which I pretended to be all offended about. But really, the fact that she WANTS to play me, while such a little thing, makes me smile.

Darren went and picked up Chinese take-out for me and the kids tonight, then slipped in next door and got manicotti for his Chinese-food-hating self. He abhors the smell of Chinese food. It was a seemingly small sacrifice to make, but I know at what cost.

Annie and the rest of the Upper Midwest Crop ladies surprised me with a beautiful glass Hall of Fame trophy. I'm sure they were stunned when I started to cry, because I bet they never dreamed that the gesture would mean SO MUCH to me.

Patti emailed to make sure I knew I was invited to a crop she's having next month. I still can't go, but I so appreciate the gesture.

Jeanne sent me a link to a contest she thinks I should enter. She says the reason I didn't win the $500 contest is because they're saving me for this one - the $10,000 contest! What a sweet thing to say.

I bought a little gift for a friend two days ago, and still haven't gotten it in the mail... but I know that when she receives it, this little thing I'm packaging up will bring a great big smile to her face.

And that's the beauty of little things. They just keep adding up into big things. It's the stuff friendships are made of.

Amenities

I slept in 4 different places on my 5-day trip to the cold, snowy north. The first night was spent in a super-comfy sleep-number bed (I'm a 30) at Carole's house... with the perfect heaviness of blankets on top.
The next night was spent sharing a hotel room with Donnann and Annie, right next door to the breakfast room where we dined on bagels and cream cheese. The next two nights at the cottage where our retreat was held, I again shared a room with Annie, but this time slept in my own twin bed, in a room outfitted with a sound machine and extra pillows. The final night, I slept alone in a queen bed, and was surprised to wake up and discover that I hadn't even ruffled the sheets on the other side of the bed. I suppose it had become habit to sleep very still. That second night, I was careful not to roll over in my sleep and drape my arm across Annie's back. The next two nights, I was careful not to roll over and fall off the bed. By night 5, I was comfortable sleeping like a piece of lumber. :)

I just read a blog that detailed what Vice President Cheney requires in every hotel he stays at: 4 Diet Sprites, temperature at 68 degrees, every light on, every television tuned to Fox News (of course), decaf coffee brewed.

It made me think about what I'd require, were I a celebrity who could get away with that kind of thing: 1 bottle of water (for when I go to sleep), 1 20-ounce Diet Vanilla Coke (for when I wake up), crushed ice, temperature at 68 degrees (I can't stand to be hot), down pillows (3), current issues of People and scrapbooking mags (I like to read at night), a small package of peanut M&Ms (don't give me a bowlful - I'll eat the whole thing), a warm chocolate chip cookie, and the most recent New York Times Sunday Crossword.

What would you require?

Schmutz

Last Wednesday, I flew to Minneapolis where I walked on a frozen lake, tried to catch snowflakes on my tongue, and ate a Double Filet-O-Fish sandwich for breakfast without a tinge of guilt. After all, there was a world-class heart hospital two floors up.

At one point, while looking out the hospital window, I said to Jenny, "I can't believe how much it's snowing!" She tossed her head back, let out a hearty laugh and, practically snorting, said, "That's not snow. That's schmutz!" I just looked the word up on dictionary.com, and it's not there. So THERE, Jenny. It WAS snow. :)

She said, "It's not snow unless it's accumulating. Is it accumulating?"

I looked out the window to see a winter white wonderland. "How am I supposed to tell if it's accumulating or not? EVERYTHING IS WHITE!"

"It's not. It's schmutz."

Well. To this Texan, it looked like snow. It felt like snow. It tasted like snow. It squished into my holey-footed Crocs and froze my toes like snow. I say it was snow.

As we walked out on the frozen lake, being careful to avoid the squishy yellowish patches, Jenny said, "Don't worry if you fall and crack your head open. I know a really good neurosurgeon." It felt weird and wonderful at the same time to be laughing about that. Dr. Nagib very definitely IS a wonderful neurosurgeon. James came through the surgery with flying colors. The day after surgery, he was solving logarithms and diagramming sentences in Russian and then translating them into Japanese and Pig Latin. Jenny says they didn't take enough of his brain. He's still too smart. Shortly after I left, two days after his surgery, he was already assembling the jigsaw puzzle I took him, and blogging from the waiting room computer.

The full pathology reports are still forthcoming; there's still much to worry about and fret over. Waiting is the hardest part, 'cause there's nothing proactive that can be done until they know what they're dealing with. Keep praying.

It was a huge blessing for ME to be there. I hope it was a blessing for Jenny and James. I'm always terrible about knowing what to say in tense, sorrowful situations. There was one moment when Jenny started to cry and I was paralyzed. On one hand, I wanted to wrap my arms around her, but on the other, I wanted to give her space. I'm terrible in situations like that. I just hope that my presense was helpful in some way. We did laugh a lot, though, and that felt good. I can't wait to plan another trip - the one where our two families hang out and do Minnesota-y things and talk about that horrendous month in 2006 when it schmutzed in Minneapolis and made two grown women giggle like schoolgirls.

Shout Out

I gotta give a shout out to Dr. Kevin Land, Medical Director for Carter Blood Care (but just plain ol' Kevin to me). Kevin was one of my closest friends in college, and even stood as Darren's Best Man in our wedding. He makes me proud. I remember once in college, he was studying like a crazy man preparing for his MCAT. It was pouring rain. I lived - what... a mile, maybe? - from his apartment, and for some reason, I rode my bike through the rain to take him a Snickers bar to get him through the night. I owned a car; I can't remember why I didn't DRIVE the candy bar over to him. Maybe he'll refresh my memory. :)

It's so cool to see him on TV! (You can see him too... here. (Click on the third video link. The video will only be available for 21 days.)

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

I'm leaving tomorrow for Minnesota. A woman I've never met (Stacie) will pick me up from the airport and take me to spend the night with another woman I've never met(Carole). I know them from the Internet, and as far as I can tell, they're not axe murderers or anything. ;)

Thursday morning, Jenny will pick me up from Carole's and I'll spend the day at the hospital with her. James's brain surgery is tomorrow morning at 10:00 central time. Please pray while the surgeons are working their magic. You can keep up with the progress on James's blog.

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

I don't know how much internet access I'll have while I'm on the road. I might have to beg Darren to blog for me in my absence. :)

Have a great week!

Quotes from today

Cara: "You know, that DOES look like a hickey."
Stacy: "No, you freak. It's NOT a hickey. It's from my biopsy."

Jake: "Yah. That's what ALL the girls are saying these days."

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

Darren: "Man. These Burger King ads are CRAP these days. They are so going out of business because of this ad campaign."

(Have you SEEN the newest BK chicken sandwich commercial? Blech!)

implosion

We were awake and out the door by 7:35 this morning. The boys had actually been awake since 5:30. They were more excited about the implosion than they've ever been about ANYthing, even Christmas. When I went into their room to wake them up, Ian was sitting in the doorway. "I'm waiting for Daddy to tell me it's time to get ready," he said. I cracked up. Apparently, almost 2 hours earlier, Darren had told them to go back to sleep until he came and told them it was time. Ian never went back to sleep.

It's been an event we've been anticipating for months. The 30-story Landmark Tower had been vacant since the late 70s. But the tornado of 2000 was what really did it in; added to the already costly problem of removing dangerous asbestos, the damage the building sustained when hit by the F3 twister was too expensive to fix. And so it was scheduled for implosion.

Last fall, crews dug a huge hole in the ground on one side of the tower, and then started removing debris and years of forgotten junk from inside. We drove by frequently to see if we could make out any progress. Yesterday, we told the boys that it was time: the building was coming down in a giant blast.

They say it's the tallest building in Texas to ever be brought down, and possibly the tallest in the world. The boys are so very proud of the fact that Daddy works in the tallest building downtown, so facts like this are very significant. From Darren's office, we would have the perfect vantage point. At 7:35, we piled into the car and headed off.

As we drove into downtown, we all watched the helicopters that were hovering above. "Those are the TV helicopters," we explained. "They're filming everything so we can see it on TV later." We tried to point out the building so the boys could see it one more time before it came down. Once we pulled into the parking garage, we wouldn't see the building again until we were up on the 13th floor. But they didn't know how to pick it out among the other skyscrapers. Just then, as we crept down the rain-soaked street, I was watching the building when Darren heard the blast and looked over, too - just in time to see it come down.

"OH MY GOSH!" I exclaimed. "That was it! It just came down!"
"What in the WORLD???" Darren said, almost yelling. "It's not supposed to happen until after 8:00!"

According to all the local news stations and the newspaper, it had been scheduled for "sometime after 8 a.m.". WHY had they pushed the button 20 minutes early? We were furious.

"Boys," we said. "We're so sorry. But the building already imploded. We missed it."

Aidan immediately began crying. "But I wanna SEE the CRASH!" he wailed.

He was absolutely heartbroken. Ian, on the other hand, whimpered once and then, sunshine-boy that he is, said, "At least we can watch it on TV."

Pedestrians on the street were all as shocked as we were. There was a lot of frustration in the faces of the people heading towards the demo site. WHY advertise something and then do it early? There had to be a good reason. Unfortunately, NO reason was good enough for a 5-year old who'd been waiting for this moment for so long.

By the time we got to the end of the block, it had started raining. We watched the giant plumes of smoke and debris, and my mind immediately jumped to images from 9-11. The sky was already overcast, and the rain was keeping most of the dust and smoke down, and yet the sky was STILL filled with amazing amounts of brown cloud. I can't imagine what it must've been like on that clear, calm day in 2001. I snapped this picture as we turned the corner to head back home:


Back at home, I was determined not to miss the scrapbook opportunity. I got my pictures. :)


It's a strange thing to see such a major landmark come crashing down in your city. The building itself was ugly and useless, but it makes me sorta sad to hear that the landowner has no further plans beyond making it a parking lot.

You can watch video of the Landmark Tower implosion on the local NBC website.

Turns out, the demolition company DID have a good reason for moving the implosion up 20 minutes. There was a fast-moving storm approaching downtown, and it contained possible hail and lightning. I had to admit that when something like this is planned, the entertainment value is huge to US, but it matters not at all to the people in charge. They were there to bring a building down safely. And that's what they did.

Someday, my boys will understand that. But today, they were heartbroken.

Poor Rich Folk

I didn't want to go out tonight.
ME. Can you believe that?

My neck is swollen from yesterday's biopsy, and it's really sore, and I was pretty much feeling sorry for myself for reasons that are completely unclear to me. You'd think the words "NOT CANCER" would make a girl wanna celebrate, right? But I didn't wanna. I wanted to stay home and go to bed early. Again - ME? Can you believe that?

But there was this band playing... that I really wanted to go see... 'cause last time I had the chance, I also had the flu... and the time before that, I was out of town. And tonight, they were filming the show for a promotional DVD that they're taking to GMA Music Week in Nashville next month... and I wanted to be there to support them in that effort.
(Even though I was scared of being filmed with my tree trunk neck. But the room was mostly sorta dark, so no worries.) :)

I've been to one of their shows before, about a year ago or so. It was sweet and fun and I wished them well. But it was sorta forgettable. So tonight, I really wasn't expecting anything different. I wanted to go not so much to be entertained, but to support the band. We know Luke in a friend-of-a-friend sort of way. Last winter, at Darren's company party, we bumped in to him. We were chatting about stuff that strangers chat about when I noticed his name tag. Luke Brawner. Brawner. Luke. I knew the name from somewhere, but the face didn't mean anything to me. Still... that NAME. I finally asked him. Where are you from? How do I know you? Did I do a wedding invitation for you? Where do you go to church? Why is your name so familiar to me? I'm sure he and his girlfriend were starting to get scared of me when we finally figured it out: he had been writing articles for a church newsletter that I had also written for and was still getting in the mail. His articles usually featured his song lyrics, and I was always impressed by the depth and maturity of his articles. THAT's why his name stood out to me. Luke Brawner. It happened that he had JUST started working for Darren's company that very week, 13 months ago.

Luke has an absolute gift for songwriting. His lyrics are straightforward and honest - plain and simple, and clever without being cute. I love that. So anyway, I showed up tonight knowing I'd enjoy myself, excited to see Luke again, but not expecting much more. How wrong I was to think that! The band was awesome! They've added a couple of new musicians since I last heard them, and the four of them completely blew me away with their sound. The harmonies were tight, the energy was fantastic, the background vocals were full of color and texture, and the bass and drums added amazing depth.

Poor Rich Folk released their first CD last spring. We have a copy; Dani loves it, and has used their lyrics on her blog several times. (She changes her Xanga title frequently, always using song lyrics from her favorite bands.) I've listened to it enough that I knew the words tonight as they played. But I hafta say... tonight's sound was WAY better than the CD. They've improved some of the songs by changing the tempos, adding vocals, etc. I can't wait to see them play live again. Next time, I'm taking a whole big group of friends and I'm makin' them all buy the CD, 'cause I'm selfish like that. I want the band to make lots of money so that they'll record a NEW CD so that I can buy it and promote it and when they get famous, say, "I knew them when they played the Fort Worth coffeehouses, way back in the day."

I didn't want to go out tonight.
But I'm so glad I did.

answered prayers

My radiologist just called with the results. NO CANCER!! :) :) :)
(My doctor doesn't even know yet. lol)

This is a week of good news.

Let's start with Baby Ira. He's going home next week!

My friend James Puzzo received MUCH more positive news from his second opinion doctor. He still has a brain tumor, but it's the kind that is usually benign - what the doctor called "a childhood tumor all grown up". Keep praying that this is indeed the case and that James can be back to normal (even better!) after the surgery next week.

Baby Avery is sick with bronchitis, but that's actually GOOD news. She doesn't have pneumonia. Add her to your prayers, too, that her lungs will continue to heal and that she'll continue to grow into a beautiful, strong little girl.

:)

biopsy

I finally had the ultrasound-guided core needle thyroid biopsy today.

The doctor gave me a local anesthetic and then took 8 or 9 tissue samples from my thyroid. I have quite a large goiter, plus nodules on the right lobe. 80% of these biopsies come back benign, so I'm not worried about cancer. Still, I suppose I'll rest easier when I get the results from pathology, which will hopefully be tomorrow. I never saw the needle, but Darren said it was small, and as best he could tell, sort of worked like a potato peeler once it was inside my neck. Instead of just extracting cells, it actually cut some of the thyroid tissue out. Everytime he removed the needle, the doctor would scrape the tissue off onto a slide or something, and then insert the needle again in a different spot.

The procedure was painless. I didn't even feel the prick of the anethesia needle, and when he kept saying, "You'll start feeling a burning sensation," I finally said, "I don't feel any burning." "You have a high threshhold for pain," he replied. I must admit, that made my sit a little taller. (Never mind that I was lying flat on my back. lol!) I never felt the core needle going in and out, either. The only sensation I had was that of pressure, every time he "clicked" the needle and cut tissue from my thyroid.

My neck is sore now, but not too bad. It just feels bruised, and I have a little difficulty turning my head to the right.

The hardest thing during the whole procedure was not being able to watch! I wanted so badly to turn my head and watch the sonogram on the monitor. Darren said he could see the needle going in and out of my neck on the screen, and that it was cool looking. I wanted to see, too, but I figured that turning my head would've broken the thing off in my neck, and that would've been a bad thing.

The radiologist who did the biopsy is the husband of one of my clients. He offered to give me a second opinion on my nuclear scan in January, and totally put me at ease with his thorough answers to my questions. I knew that if I ended up needing a biopsy, I'd want him to do it. Sure enough, his bedside manner today was very comforting. I think I'll write him a letter and tell him so. When Darren and I were at the same hospital in November visiting a friend who'd just had a baby, we we happily surprised to see Stu's photo on the wall in the foyer. He was named "Doctor of the Year 2004". Now I know why.

I didn't ask Darren to go with me. I truly wasn't scared of the procedure, and didn't want to bother him to take an afternoon off work. But this morning, he surprised me. I thought he'd left for work, but when I started hearing hammering coming from the backyard, I realized he was home. "I decided to stay home today and go with you to the hospital," he explained. "But I didn't even ask you to!" I said. "I know," he replied.

Yah. I think I'll keep him.
I love this man. I love him, I love him, I love him.

:)

validation

I wasn't going to post about this. I certainly wasn't going to blog about it.
But after having a good conversation with my trusty pyschological advisor (Darren), I've decided to write it all out and purge it from my system.

It all started 2 months ago. I was desperately behind on some scrapbooking deadlines, but I couldn't bring myself to work on the jobs. I'd sit and stare at the assortment of photos and supplies on my desk until my eyes blurred over. I tried various tactics to inspire myself: I spent 2 days completely re-organizing my scrap room, hoping that a newly cleaned space would motivate me. I made business goals and started working towards them, hoping THAT would spur me to work. Nothing worked. That is, until I discovered the Creating Keepsakes Hall of Fame contest.

I'd heard of it before, but had never paid attention. This time, I did. I read through the rules and got excited about the assignments. With just a few weeks until the deadline, when many people were saying, "I was going to enter, but now there's not time," I dove in. I had a ton of fun, I stretched my scrapbooking horizons, I branched out and tried new products and techniques, I loved the layouts I created - and best of all, I rediscovered my passion. By the time I mailed the entry off, I already felt like I'd won. Not the CONTEST, but just the sheer victory that comes with setting a goal, meeting it, and being content with that.

And I was content. Sure, I envisioned what it'd be like to win. I imagined what it'd feel like to be named one of the best scrapbookers of 2006. Being a Hall of Famer carries a lot of clout in my industry. I pictured being able to put it in writing on my business site: Stacy Kocur, 2006 CK Hall of Fame winner. I daydreamed about what I'd spend the prize money on. But I never expected to win. Some 1000 people entered, and only 25 would be chosen. I knew my chances were next to nothing. Even so, I was content with just entering.

I put the layouts away and didn't even look at them again until this past weekend. Call week came and as I browsed the Hall of Fame threads on 2Peas, I thought, "Weird. I'm not worked up. Shouldn't I be?" Some of the scrappers who'd entered were on pins and needles. I wasn't. It just wasn't that big a deal to me. On Monday. Nor on Tuesday. But tonight, when I logged on and discovered that at least 21 of the 25 winners had been notified, my heart fell.

My immediate reaction to THAT emotion was this one: disgust. I couldn't believe how SAD I felt. It made me mad that I was so disappointed. I was taken aback to realize how much being named to the Hall of Fame DID mean to me. All day, I've been vacillating between two thoughts: 1, "You ARE good at what you do, and you DO have a shot at this. Go you!" and 2, "What are you THINKING? Of COURSE you don't hold a candle to these other scrappers." But until I saw those 21 posts, I didn't think it would matter so much.

A few minutes ago, I called Darren into my office.

"I didn't win," I said.
He put his arms around me and said, so sincerely, "I know. But *I* still think you're a Hall of Famer. You probably have to know somebody. These things are always so political." I loved him to his very toes for trying to make me feel better.
"But I'm pissed that I'm so sad about it!" I exclaimed.
"You need validation," he said. "It makes you mad to be confronted with that fact. You KNOW you need it, but you don't like admitting it."
"Yah. And this would've been the best kind of validation. It would've been validation from the giants in my industry."

Wisely, he didn't say anything more. He just held me tight and loved me.

He's so right. I DO have a personality that needs validating. I need to know that I'm okay. I need to know that people like me, think I'm funny, respect me, value my opinion, trust my judgment. Even when I know these things are true, I often need to HEAR it before I'll really let myself believe it.

I know I'm good at what I do. My tax return proved that to me this year. People pay me well for what I do. I'm passionate about what I do. My friends gush over my creations. Darren constantly tells me he thinks I'm gifted.

And I suppose that's why I'm so disgusted that I reacted the way I did tonight. I didn't expect it, but my true colors came shining through, loud and clear. I am a person who needs approval and thrives on validation. I hate it. But there it is.

Now I'm ready to put it behind me and concentrate on the things I was so content about until 5 hours ago.

1. I've always dreamed of being published. And yet, I'd never even submitted anything FOR publication. Until this contest. That was a huge step.
2. I love the layouts I created. One in particular features my sister and her gorgeous family. Another one is dedicated to blogging: why I do it. Others focus on my precious kids. My favorite one tells the story of how two of my best friends came into my life.
3. Creating Keepsakes magazine now has these layouts on file, and maybe, just MAYBE, they'll ask to publish one or two of them down the line.
4. I found my passion again. After submitting my layouts for the contest, I was able to dive back in to my work, and even though I was further behind than I had been, I wasn't stressed about it. I've produced some of my best work ever in the month following that.

Validation Shmalidation. Yah, I need it. No, I don't like that I need it.

But there it is, in all its beauty. At least I can admit it and move on.

And there's always Hall of Fame 2007! :)

Needed: Boyfriend. Now taking applications.

So it all began when Darren and I were pulling out of the new, hip Montgomery Plaza shopping center after having a hot date at our new neighborhood Target store. Darren spotted it first - a "coming soon" Cold Stone Creamery. I said, "Ooooh, this is soon gonna be our constant date destination." Then he pointed to another new restaurant going in and said, "What's that?", and I replied, "I dunno. But it looks cool and you are SO taking me there when it opens." So we drove around to see the sign out front, which I read silently before slamming my fists against my thighs and exclaiming, "DADGUM IT! It's a PEI WEI! You'll NEVER take me there!!" ('Cause you see, Darren the Freak of Nature Boy detests the smell of asian food, and thus refuses to even step inside a Thai or Chinese or Japanese restaurant.) He answered, "WELL THEN. I guess you'll have to get your BOYfriend to take you." And then *I* said, "MAYBE I WILL!! Just as soon as I find one. Or two or five."

So. I'm taking applications.

******* we interrupt this entry to say, "Hey James and Ginger... Chris Body (lol) is on local PBS as I type! haha!********

I've already interviewed Michael. He was my first choice, cutie pie blond that he is. Cara will likely beat me up, but s'okay. Michael says that she hates Chinese food too, so our Pei Wei affair looks like it was meant to be. We're going as soon as it opens. She and Darren can hang out here at home and eat macaroni and cheese.

*************************************************

We spent the weekend in San Antonio. It was fabulous. The reason for going was two-fold. One, we've been meaning to go down and see James and Ginger for months, but sickness kept cancelling our plans. When my friend Marfy from Callyfornya announced that she'd be in San Antonio this past weekend, we decided to try the trip again and get to see two friends in one trip. So we did, and we did! It was relaxing (we didn't overdo it like we ALWAYS tend to do on weekend trips), enlightening (James and Darren are the same man. Ginger and I are the same woman ('cept she's skinny, the brat)), entertaining (baby Avery was beautiful, 5-year old John and our two boys got along perfectly (my boys think John has the coolest toys on the planet)... and so enjoyable (Mexican good three meals in a row, sitting next to Marfy at dinner, gabbing with Ginger 'til 3 a.m.). Even the road trip itself with the boys was fun. We came home feeling refreshed. That's PROOF of a good weekend!

faithful

Someone today described me as religious. I think they don't understand what that means. Because what he defined as religious is really not religious at all: it's faithful. And yes, I am.

I am full of faith.
I believe in God.
I believe that He is the one, true God.
I believe that He breathed life into Adam.
I believe He created the world, and everything in it, and I believe that He allowed for evolution, and for things to change and adapt and even become better.
I believe that Jesus is the Son of God, and that He came from Heaven to earth for a reason, and I believe that the reason was to show me that there's a reason for living, and that's to glorify God and to be with Him after I leave the earthsuit behind me.
I believe that Jesus Christ died for my sins. Stacy Kocur's sins. I believe that I'm precious to Him, and cherished, and cried over and wished for and I believe that when I live in outright sin, it breaks His heart. Because He knows I'm better than that. He knows I'm filled with compassion and gentleness and peace and love, because HE put those things in me. I believe He waits for me on that dusty road with the fatted calf at the ready, His arms outstretched, and I believe that everytime I come meandering down it, afraid to ask for forgiveness, He gives if before I even have to utter a word. Because He knows my heart.
I believe the Word of God is infallible, but I also believe that men have translated that Word over the ages and that what I read today is riddled with the mistakes of men. I believe that when I'm confused about what I read, or unsure of what I'm supposed to receive from it, that God can make it clear to me if I trust Him to do so and I if approach it without allowing my own agenda to get in the way.
I believe that God hears my prayers.
I believe.
I believe.
I believe.

Father God, Abba, my Daddy in Heaven - maker of Heaven and earth, Healer of heavy hearts and weary bodies. Hear my prayer tonight, Oh Lord my God.
Be REAL to me, God. Show me with undeniable truth that YOU ARE GOD.
Work a miracle in James' brain, God. Heal him. Make him whole. Shrink the tumor so that when he returns to the surgeon on the 20th, they'll be amazed and shake their heads and throw up their hands and say "We don't understand." Show us a miracle. I'm begging you with tears that burn my cheeks and a lump in my throat that screams to be let loose. PLEASE GOD. I love the Puzzo family so much, and it's entirely selfish of me, but raw and honest, that I DON'T WANT TO HURT like this. My heart absolutely breaks for Jenny. oh GOD, WHY? Why must she suffer so? Why must she walk through this dark valley of fear and dread and absolute, paralyzing, choking TERROR? Wrap her in your loving arms, promise her that it will all be okay. Comfort her, hold her, give her peace and assurance. I BELIEVE THAT YOU HEAR MY PRAYERS. I believe that you want what's best for your children. I believe that Jenny and James are beloved, adopted sons and daughters of YOU, most loving and faithful God. Be faithful to us, Father. Hear our pleas. I believe. I believe. I believe.

I'm such a girl!

This morning, I was leaving to run errands with the boys. Darren had graciously left me his car since it was gonna be a hot one, and my van doesn't have A/C.

So I loaded the boys up, opened the driveway gate, and started to back out. All of a sudden, a spider dropped from the rubber seal of the door and landed right on my forearm, then proceeded to run RIGHT UP MY SLEEVE!

I freaked.

Just like a GIRL.

I started flailing around, trying to get the monster out of my clothing before he ate me alive. Truth be told, he was a tiny spider. No bigger than a pencil eraser, counting his legs and all. SMALL spider. I. Did. Not. Care. I wanted him OFF.

So I'm all but taking my shirt off all the while batting at my arm like a crazy woman when I hear it: "crrrrrrrrrrrumple CRACK!" DadGUM it! In my freakout, I'd rammed the dadgum stupid car mirror right into the blasted dumb gate! Broke it. Scraped up the fender of the car. I put it back in forward, pulled up, inspected the damage, let out a string of not-nice words, and THEN remembered that there was a freakin' spider in my shirt. So I took off my shirt, turned it inside out, shook the living daylights out of it, slapped myself silly all over the place to make sure he wasn't still ON me, put my shirt back on, and calmly backed out of the driveway.

I'm just glad no one was passing by at the time.

THEN, not TWO MINUTES later, Aidan rolls down his window in the backseat, which is a MAJOR no-no. "Don't worry, Mom," he says. "There was a spider on my window, so I rolled it down to make him fall off. But he came inside the car when I rolled it down."

ACK!!

Stupid useless ugly scary dumb nasty creepy twisted freakin' SPIDER. I hate 'em all.

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.