Rachie Rach and the Funky Bunch

It's a Girl!

2005-11-27T10:31:00.000-08:00

I had no idea I was "spammed" by my own husband last month (just shows how often I have been checking my own blog) and that he posted on my account. No wonder I had 18 comments, all from spammers.

Much better news is that we found out Eli and Eva will have a little sister! We caved in and decided to find out the sex, and we couldn't be more thrilled to have two little girls. She looked happy and healthy and I am counting down the 4 more months until she arrives.

I go in spurts with blogging...sometimes I feel like I have something interesting to say, but usually, I prefer to be a compulsive blog reader, rather than a blog typer.

I am off to make the rounds...

Life and Death

2005-10-19T17:54:00.000-07:00

I have wanted to write more lately, but my life has kept me away from the computer more than I would like.

We found out last week that my beloved Papa, my maternal grandfather, has cancer and only has weeks to live. He is almost 91 years old, has lived an amazing life (has met two Presidents, fought in all major wars the past century, was the first person in his Italian immigrant family to go to college, had 6 children, has been married to my Nana for 68 years...). I know he will be in heaven soon, but there is such a deep sadness for me that this is how he has to die. I had always hoped he wouldn't have to suffer much, and now he is brokenhearted at the thought of leaving his wife alone. He has been her caretaker for years. At the age of 90, he was still swimming three times a week, lifting my Nana to bathe her, cook for her, and love all those around him.

My Papa was the kind of man who would give you the shirt off of his back if you needed it. He is the eternal optimist--even when the doctor told him that he was very very ill with cancer, he has been strong for all of his children who are grieving the fact he will shortly leave them.

I debated and agonized over whether to fly to Virginia to see him before he died. I made the decision not to, but I wrote him a letter trying to express some of my gratitude for his presence in my life. My Mom said that after he read it, he cried and said he wanted it buried with him in his casket. This is more a testament to my grandfather than to the fact that I wrote a great letter.

He will be buried at Arlington National Cemetery, and I will go back for the funeral. I know that death is a part of life, but it is so very hard for me to totally comprehend the loss right now.

I also had to break the news to one of my best friends this past week that I am pregnant. What would normally be exciting news to share was very painful. She lives on the East Coast, so I was able to keep it from her for the past 4 months, but I decided I needed to let her know in order to be true to our friendship and yet it was so difficult to tell her because she has struggled for years with infertility and is having an extremely difficult time understanding why her body is failing her and her arms are empty, without a baby to love.

I don't know why life is so unfair sometimes. That is an incredibly trite thing for me to write, but it is my heart right now. There are good people everywhere who are dying, there are couples who would make excellent parents who continue to go childless, there are people who live at the mercy of the weather forecast, and on and on... I do believe God is still active and present in this world, though, and I have seen glimpses of that daily in the midst of the difficulties of the past week.

Feeling my baby move for the first time this week reminded me that God is continually present in the cycle of the world, the miracle of life-making--that birth and growth always happen in the midst of death and suffering.

Lost

2005-10-06T11:44:00.000-07:00

I have recently begun to watch the show "Lost". Being a former literature major, I think the mythology, the mystery, and the metaphors (the island is more than the literal land, etc...) make for a very interesting premise, one that I wish I could write a paper about for my former Mythical Allusion professor.

However, my expectations have been and are VERY high. I was disappointed last night, to say the least. In order to explain the hatch and Desmond's presence, the writers think of a "dharma experiment" where a button has to be pushed every 108 minutes?! A frickin' button?! Not that I am a writer for ABC, nor would ever be qualified as one, but come on people, it has to be better than "there was an incident, so a button has to be pushed..." I am sincerely hoping that it will develop into a more interesting story line and that last night was only the start of something great, but with TV, one never really knows.

I am sort of a restaurant snob, and am almost ashamed to admit it, but I did have a very delicious bacon, turkey, lettuce and tomato sandwich at Red Robin today. I also made Dan bring me a sundae from McDonald's (McDonald's for ice cream?!) last night.

Eating is God's best gift to humankind--and we get to do it at least 3 times a day. In my case, it is more like 8 times a day, minus 4 because of the puking.

Stomach Acid and Acne

2005-10-03T12:31:00.000-07:00

I would never attempt to write an essay about vomiting, like my brilliant friend Jenell did. However, I will say that I think it is one of the worst ways I can spend the valuable time in my life. I dread it so much that I will try anything to avoid it. Distraction, meditation, sniffing food that smells good to me instead of dwelling on the trash cans that don't...

I have learned the hard way that I must avoid anything citrus at all costs or the acid is too much to bear.

Dan does not understand why I resent him telling people "We are pregnant." He has never vomited for no good reason, nor is he bloated, nor are his breasts the size of Pamela Lee's (this would be a good thing under normal circumstances, but the growing belly sorta erases all that).

To make matters worse, I do believe I have approximately 136 zits on my face. I actually went in last week to a skin care clinic and a woman (bless her heart) spent 1 1/2 hours "extracting" my face. Who knew I needed "Acne Surgery"? Now, had I known I could have been a professional zit popper, I might have altered my life plans a bit.

Things I am looking forward to this week:

Bedtime, Bedtime, Bedtime, watching "Lost", eating some pork tenderloin Asian noodle dish I made in the crockpot, and did I mention going to bed?

Be brief...

2005-10-02T20:47:00.000-07:00

We have been attending a church we actually like quite a bit--the best thing about it is the pastor, a genuine, kind-hearted man who is engaging and incredibly down to earth. The worst part is the music. Where are the SP musicians when you need them? It was so bad that today I was actually glad we were late so we missed some of it. Sigh. Note to singers: Please don't ever try to sing Josh Groban's "You Raise Me Up" in church.

Anyway, today, Steve (the pastor) had a time of "open mic" sharing before he spoke telling us that anyone who wanted to share was welcome to stand up and do so. He then instructed us on the "Five B's" of sharing in church: Be Brief, Brother, Be Brief.

I found this hilarious only because I have sat through too many open mic sessions in some of my past churches where I got to hear about sick old Aunt Betty and the cat and the old job from 10 years ago and so on... Not that I am insensitive or uncaring, but there is something to be said for conciseness when telling about God's goodness in the world and in our lives. That is what blogging is for--to ramble on about whatever the heck it is one wants to.

Tonight, as I am about to crawl into bed, tired and sick, I am thankful for the small things this week that have brought me great joy.

A couple from our church is starting a Friday night group--starting at 6, including dinner, AND they are from Minnesota! This is suspiciously like the last group which we were in, one that we dearly miss and have longed to re-create here in Denver. God answers prayers with an "okay", even if they are over a year later.

I am also thankful for my new king sized bed. Not so much for my own sake, but to avoid being hit and pushed and kicked, Dan has given in to the demand of my growing body and my need for space when I sleep. Sure, a bed can be used for amorous activities and for snuggling, but come on people, when it is time to sleep, Lord knows I don't need no elbow in my face. If I had any advice to newly married couples, it would be to get a king sized bed. No one needs to smell morning breath because of close sleeping proximity. Now, Dan won't have to smell mine because I don't have to say, "Move over!" at all hours of the night.

I am thankful for Eli becoming a yellow stripe belt in tae kwon do this week. Who knew he could break a wooden board with his hand?

I will have to follow up all this damn thankfulness with some complaining in tomorrow's blog. I warn you--it will include reports of acne and vomiting.

I really have no title

2005-09-11T17:23:00.000-07:00

Besides being on the quest for the perfect toothpaste (thank you so much for all the insightful comments here), I have been consumed by the suffering that is on every network 24/7 and has been on and off for as long as I can remember.

Today at church, a couple stood up and asked for prayer as they leave to live in Uganda for 3 years and help the people in whatever ways they can. There is genocide, child sex slavery, poverty, AIDS, etc...and they are going to live among the people and work with a "peacemaking" ministry. As I sat there, I thought about how great that was they were being so sacrificial and to be honest, how there was no way in hell I would ever go to Uganda. Then, the "sermon" was about the catastrophes in the world and how as Christians we are called to social justice and involvement and sadness. The stories were told of many Christians who offer humanitarian relief with the gospel as incentive (we will give you food if you listen to the stories of Jesus, etc...) and I was thankful this perspective was discussed and criticized.

And, yet, I sat there feeling helpless and ridiculous. Often, the biggest problem in my day is that I put one dark garment in with a bunch of whites and now we all have blue underwear. Or, my forehead pimples are erupting again and there is no end in sight. Laundry! Acne! The horrors!

The people in the Middle East, the mass genocide (s) in Africa, poverty, sickness, hunger, the tsunami (have we already forgotten that one?), Katrina, and on and on. I feel too overwhelmed to help and yet I want to do something more than tear off a $5 donation card at my local Walgreens when I run in to purchase diapers and all the other things I can afford and need for my family.

I don't want to feel guilty for having a beautiful home, a beautiful family, a husband who provides and offers me the ability to be a mother who is home more than she is not, and yet it is hard not to have a pang of that as my life feels so benign and miniscule in the larger picture of the world.

A large piece of the picture for me is that I feel I already have suffered, so "can't I just enjoy my life already?" That is a ridiculous, arrogant, and presumptuous thing for me to even write, but it is part of the honesty I am trying to embrace as I try to figure out where my suffering fits into my "story".

I DO have beautiful things. I have a diamond ring that is worth more than most people's homes (around the world, people, not in America). I DID have a nice minivan (Ha!) until I forgot how to drive and dented and scraped up the side on a railing at the zoo. I buy organic meat, pay a lot of money to get my hair done, and eat out way more than I should. I never have to wonder where my next meal will come from or if disease or dehydration will claim the life of my children. I am blessed, indeed.

And, yet, there is part of me that feels I have suffered in ways that are so similar to those around the world that I need to step out of my coccoon and use my resources for more than I do. My best friend was murdered by her mother, a family member died of AIDS, I was emancipated by my parents and pregnant at 17 and on welfare, and those are just to name a few.

It is these stories that link me to people who I will never know. I could be an African woman, a person in New Orleans too poor to evacuate, a pregnant teenager anywhere who feels alone in the world and is hurting.

But I am not that person. I have stuffed my suffering deep into pockets of shame and disassociation and in doing so, I have missed many opportunities to let God offer others hope, allow me to heal, and to open up pieces of a heart that long to be known.

Very Important Questions

2005-09-09T09:12:00.000-07:00

1) Does anyone (or the 3 people who read this blog) have any great toothpaste recommendations? I am desperate, people. I feel like most toothpastes are minty and fresh initially and then leave this horrible aftertaste that makes me gag.

2) Why are there SPAM comments on blogger? I received a comment yesterday from "phentermine", which I am certain is some kind of drug. Any comments are welcome, but I have to draw the limit somewhere.

All I got is 2.

On another note, I just ate a cinnamon raisin english muffin, a blueberry smoothie, and a bunch of kalamata olives with cheese dip and chips for breakfast. Mmmmm.

Warning: Blog being used for personal venting

2005-09-08T12:56:00.000-07:00

I had a very difficult conversation this morning--with Eli's biological father. Eli does not read this blog, so I feel like I can share some of the thoughts that went through my head, minus the expletives.

Basically, Dan is going to be adopting Eli. Eli uses the last name Stratford, but his legal name is my maiden name. So, we want to really make it all "official" and forego the $300 a month I get in child support (which isn't even enough for one grocery trip to Whole Foods :)

Mind you, this person hasn't seen Eli since he was 1 1/2 and Eli has no idea who he is. So, I asked him the question, "Do you plan on having any contact with Eli in the near future?" and his response is a real winner...in a John Malchovich (sp?) voice...

"I don't believe in two households".

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it isn't fair to my own kids to deal with that and I don't believe that kids should go back and forth with all that inconvenience".

Like it wasn't an inconvenience for me have a baby a week after I turned 18. I think it is sad that kids have to go back and forth too, you idiot, but how does it make sense to choose NEVER seeing your child than to see him occasionally and get to have a relationship with him?!

There are loaded issues here of control and many other variables and it is God's infinite grace that this person is NOT involved in our lives, but when I think about my precious precious Eli and that this person has chosen to abandon a relationship with him for these pathetic reasons, my mother instinct kicks in and my heart swells and I want to hold my son and tell him that he is good and wonderful and perfect. In short, that he is my fructajania and my woodgaganochte.

Of course Eli will know nothing of the conversation today, but I will give him an extra big hug after school just for myself in gratitude of each day I have been given with him, my 10 years of motherhood.

Is there such a thing...

2005-09-07T08:56:00.000-07:00

...as too much grace?

Upon discussing this with a family member this week, I was told that a recent sermon she heard said the church in America has used grace as a crutch and that there is an emphasis on "too much grace" and not enough "consequences".

I can barely stand this kind of thinking. I actually heard another person say that New Orleans was like Sodom and Gomorrah and thus it was no surprise God chose to destroy it.

WHAT THE $%^&?

Hate to break it to ya, but there is evil in every city and goodness in every city. New Orleans just happened to be built below sea level and by an ocean. That alone is enough reason for destruction, obviously.

I refuse to believe that God is "up there" (well, all around us, really) waiting to dole out hardship and suffering as consequences. I think he is grieved by evil, surely, but I choose to believe He has more sadness over those who do not know Him than the rage of a hurricane.

My old church in Minnesota sang a song titled "God of Rage". This song was always a favorite, because rather than God being portrayed as typically rageful (i.e. lots of OT stories), he is full of raging compassion, love, and a deep desire for those who know Him and those who don't. He rages FOR us, not against us.

It is this thought I choose to take with me today, as I feel surrounded by shame and condemnation and instead I will surround myself with "too much grace".

I'm BAAAAAAAAAAAACK

2005-08-31T10:20:00.000-07:00

I think my writing bug is over. I quit my job and therefore will have more time to devote to my beloved computer, Fergie.

Number of books I have owned: hundreds and hundreds

Last book I bought: Pregnancy Guide Week by Week

Last book I completed: The Time Traveller's Wife

five books that mean a lot to me: Prince of Tides by Pat Conroy, The Violent Bear it Away by Flannery O'Conner, The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver, The Four Loves by C.S. Lewis, The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein

What book I am currently reading: How Children Raise Parents by Dan Allender

What books I want to get around to reading: Where do I begin? Middlesex, Bel Canto, Anna Karenina

Minnesota, Minnesota, how I love thee

2005-05-10T12:03:00.000-07:00

I am really looking forward to our trip to Minnesota this weekend. I hope it is spent reconnecting with good friends, eating lots of yummy food, and seeing all the things I love and miss.

I explained to Eva today that she will be revisiting the land of her "roots" and she seemed less than excited. In fact, she crossed her arms and said, "No!". Who says she takes after her mother?

Speaking of mothering, I had a fabulous Mother's Day. I got to sleep in until 9:30, Dan washed and vacuumed my car, mowed the lawn, AND made dinner for everyone. That electroshock therapy is really working, honey!

Extreme Makeover

2005-05-02T12:20:00.000-07:00

With our most generous tax return, we are installing hardwood floors on our first floor, buying furniture, and finally hanging up some pseudo-art on the bare walls. Finances and laziness have prevented us these past ten months from really settling in. I feel like we are on Extreme Makeover: Home Edition the house is looking so damn good.

Lately, the idea of "intentionality" has been on my mind. My old church in Minneapolis was very intentional about the pursuit of community, worship, and ritual. My new life is very unintentional about all those things. I have no church, very little worship (does singing Christian music at the top of your lungs in your minivan count?), and only a little bit of community. Yet, I feel this deep, unsatiated hunger in my belly to be more intentional about my life in every area. I used to sit back and hope that connections, meaningful life moments, and spiritual "greatness" would just happen to me, and when it didn't, I would take it personally and feel rejected or confused why Sally Jones Smith had it all and I didn't. Now, I realize, more than ever, that I will receive from community and my spiritual life what I am willing to put into it, or more importantly, how "open" I remain to the process.

I have almost been back in Colorado for a full year. I feel like my memories this past year are still inaccessible and too new to recall. Life is passing by quickly, and yet my heart lags a few seasons behind, in trees and lakes and greenness.

My week as a Nut in a Nutshell...

2005-04-02T19:34:00.000-08:00

Because my life revolves heavily around food, I made chicken piccata this week and it was YUMMY.

I also drove myself to the Emergency Room, paid a $200 co-pay, only to be told that my hacking/lung pain was probably just a virus. I was convinced I had some deathly pneumonia or lung infection, but alas, I will be okay.

I took Eva to the zoo for the first time and she liked the bears and the ducks and the carousel. Though to show her gratitude she came home and pooped on the rug in the bathroom. If anyone can tell me why carpet in a bathroom is a good idea, I would be shocked.

I lost my wallet and my keys all in the same week. I recovered them both after long moments of worry.

I watched Terri Schiavo die (at least the coverage of it) as well as the Pope.

I watched the hydrangeas my Dad gave me for Easter droop and wilt and then spring miraculously back to life after a little water.

I wish humans were more like hydrangeas and could be fixed with a little water and sunlight.

For now, I will be content to rest and drink hot tea and lament that at the first hints of spring all around me, I will be in bed, listening to the lullaby of dogs barking and cars whizzing by.

And, before I lay my sick bottominski in bed, I realize the Terri Schiavo case is complicated on many levels, but LIFE SUPPORT is not the same thing as a FEEDING TUBE. The newspaper keeps writing she was on "life support" for 15 years, and I find that to be disingenuous reporting. Just as we all need food and water to survive, so did she. I still cannot believe she hung on for 13 days with no food or drop of water. That is miraculous. I doubt I would make it that long and I have lotsa Big Macs on these thighs as storage, just in case. I wish the whole issue didn't make it to the court level and have to be so polluted politically. Although, I do feel it was a human rights violation to starve someone to death. If I did that to a dog (and there are a few that would tempt me), I would be in prison.

No one will ever really know what Terri Schiavo wanted. The line between life and death is too fragile sometimes for me to wrestle with. I know she was vegetative and "severely retarded"/unresponsive. But, she was breathing on her own. Her heart was beating on its own. I used to work with severely "retarded" children. They were unresponsive, lethargic, wearing helmets, diapers, etc... One of them slept in a cage at his house because he thrashed around when he slept and had no memory, recollection, or control of himself. You could scream in their faces and they would gaze off into the distance. They couldn't walk, talk, respond, etc... I cannot judge whether their lives mattered or contributed anything to this world. Terri Schiavo surely didn't contribute much or have any quality of life, but is that a criteria for taking life? I would feel differently if extreme measure were being used--a respirator, ventilator, etc.... but the woman only needed sustenance. As do I. Doctors maintain that she felt nothing as she slipped deeper and deeper into eternity, and that is probably true, however, I think of the cruelty and barbarism of it and it saddens me. I know Amnesty International would be on a red eye flight to Sudan or Siberia if such cruelty occurred to one who could not speak for themselves. Yet, here in America, it becomes a "conservative" issue. I hate that more than I can say. Since when does every frickin' thing have to be politicized? Why were people so impressed Jesse Jackson crossed "party lines" to be involved? The Terri Schiavo case has proved to me that we as Americans are approaching more and more situations politically. Dear God, please let those who love you approach situations from a perspective of mercy, benevolence, and never ending compassion.

I don't know the black and white answer about Terri Schiavo, but I do know that her life has mattered significantly.

I rejoice over her restored body and the feast she surely partook of. I have been deeply burdened this week for her husband, her family, and all those who knew and loved her. I pray they may find comfort and peace after a devastating journey that led to a tragic end.

Though our end is not death, and I believe Terri knew that. It seems she was a woman of faith and she waited a long time to go home.

Dance, Terri, dance. You are free.

Easter for me...

2005-03-28T20:53:00.000-08:00

Without a true church "home" this year, I wasn't sure what Easter would look like for me or for us as a family. It turned out to be the best Easter I have experienced in a long time--maybe ever.

I was jogging the other week and I swear God told me (not in an audible voice, but nonetheless, I "heard" Him) to invite this single mom I work with, Rhoda, and her daughter. I had heard a lot about Rhoda's sister, who was also a single mom to 3 kids, and decided to invite her as well. To my delight, they were all able to come, and here are some snippets of our Easter "experience:

1) Life is all about perspective. Rhoda's sister, whose name is Rachel Sr. (not to be confused with her daughter, 4 year old Rachel Jr.), stood in our back yard and exclaimed over and over how lucky we are to have such a nice view. By "view", she meant all the backs of houses that we can see. We hate our "view," but to her, it was beautiful.

2) The most precious food item I have ever received is a squashed loaf of old bread by the slice. Rachel Sr. brought it, and she couldn't have been more sincere and generous to offer it. For her, that bread represented a lot of meals. I felt almost sinful accepting it, but for fear of offending, I graciously thanked her (for bread! To her, it was surely manna...)

3) Rachel Jr. throwing up on our porch and my precious husband cleaning it up.

4) The sounds of 10 kids playing in our back yard, jumping on our trampoline, and searching for eggs...is wonderful.

5)Spending 3 days at various stages making a lemon curd mousse cake for dessert was well worth the time, energy, and dirty dishes.

Yesterday was meaningful to me because it was about something bigger than myself. Rather than look at having people over as exhausting and effort, it was a gift to me.

When everyone was leaving, Rachel Sr. jumped out of her car again to give me another hug. It was a very childlike, innocent, gesture as she was running down the street, boobs a flyin', to thank me one more time. As she hugged me, she gestured towards Dan and said, "I hope God sends me a man like that. With extra kids and all" (referring to my step children, Tyler and Madison).

Though her perspective into our family was only for 3 hours on a Sunday afternoon, it felt like a long over due refreshment for my spirit.

I want to shoot the dogs

2005-03-20T10:04:00.000-08:00

I have never been one to endorse animal cruelty, but I think I am on the brink of looking into stockpiling mass amounts of chocolate and force feeding it to the various dogs who live around me.

Imagine that you are exhausted because of being home for a week with two sick children and you have also been working all day...your husband lovingly offers to wake up with the children at 6:30 am so you can get some more rest before you have to go to work for the day. Of course, I am no fool, and I accept this offer. Just as I am about to nod off for a few more hours, the cacophony begins. There are 3 mastiff dogs who live behind us that bark INCESSANTLY.

Dan has gone over there to ask them to try to be aware of their dogs barking. I have called animal control, but what good does that do? Filling out a report seems to be worthless.

I am literally at my wits end. If any of you have any suggestions as to how I can overcome this obnoxiousness, let me know. For now, I just want to cry into my pillow that I can't get any rest in my own house, in my own bed.

And, for the record, telling me that many people can tune out incessant dog barking and that I should invest in earplugs will only make me grumpy.

World Wide Web

2005-03-03T17:11:00.000-08:00

This is Dan's favorite website. I am only including this because I finally figured out how to post web links. It has only been 6 months of blogging. This is typical of my personality in many ways. If something is too difficult, I tend to wimp out. However, this is not the case with marriage, motherhood, and other such things. It is only the case with cleaning toilets, especially all the urine around the base, and of running more than 5 miles at a time.

I may never have any clever websites to add into my blogs, but at least now I have the option.

Amerian Idol and the Weather

2005-02-21T20:32:00.000-08:00

Please oh please God help me stop having the same recurring dream: that I am on American Idol and Simon Cowell is in love with me.

What does this say about my psyche? What does this say about my apparent need to be loved by Simon Cowell?

It has been in the 50's, 60's, and 70's most of the winter here. Craaaazy. I have worn my heavy winter coat once. I used to think that was a lame way to spend a winter--warm. Now, I think being warm is just about the best thing in the world. Whether I am warm under my down comforter, or warm from wearing too many layers on a jog when it is 65 degrees, I would much rather be warm than cold.

Since I have nothing else interesting to write about this evening, I am going to take a warm bath and head to my warm bed and try not to dream about Simon Cowell.

The Tears that Spill

2005-02-10T20:05:00.000-08:00

I grew up in a household without a lot of crying. When my Mom cried, it made me uncomfortable because it was usually when she was hurt by my Dad. When my Dad cried, it was usually because there was a news special about the Vietnam War, and since he has never dealt with what he endured over there, I was uncomfortable with his tears.

Me--I cry sometimes for no good reason. I cry for my marriage and all its fragile shards, I cry at movies and TV shows and any possible story line that relates to teen pregnancy, I cry when I am so tired at night that my bones even hurt and then I feel guilty for having "internal complaints" and then I cry out of that shame and guilt. I cry at really good books, and sometimes feel silly sitting by myself with a closed book on my lap, bawling. I didn't cry when I had my children, but I did cry when I got married (I try not to read too much into that one!)

This blog was prompted actually not by me crying, but by Eva crying. Yesterday, she was crying about something, and as I scooped to pick her up and kiss her face, I tasted her tears. The sensation of it surprised me, and I couldn't remember any other instance I had ever tasted anyone's tears. It struck me as something unusual, but good. In a motherly way, it felt natural to "lick up her wounds", but on a deeper level, it felt like I did something few people would ever do for her, for me, for anyone.

My Life Now

2005-02-09T13:49:00.000-08:00

I think I am in a season of brooding. I want to sit in my bed, read poetry, and ponder the ever-present "angst in my soul".

Having just eaten a Chipotle bowl, my mouth has that "after Chipotle oniony taste" in it still. I should get up and brush my teeth, but since there is no one near to kiss, who cares? Would we all still brush our teeth if we were kissing "abstinent"?

Here's another brain stumper: If your significant other saw Prince 4 nights out of 5 but only told you about 2 of them and waited 6 months to divulge the other info, would you consider that a breach of marital trust?

Million Dollar Baby

2005-01-30T17:35:00.000-08:00

Dan and I saw this movie last night. On a scale of 1-5 stars, 5 being the best, I give it a 10. It was amazing. Themes of redemption, lost dreams, realized dreams, sorrow and hope. Clint Eastwood was amazing (I can think of no other adjectives to describe this experience except for "amazing"), as was Hilary Swank. I was so overwhelmed with emotion at this movie that I was holding myself back from dry heaving into loud moans and sobs.

I usually try to "buck the system" and not give props to movies that are so "commercial", but this move was earth shattering for me.

I have gotten into a few debates with Dan and my mom about the ending. I will not give anything away, but it is excellent fodder for discussion.

On another movie note, I saw "Dodgeball" Friday night and was disgusted with myself for actually enjoying it. Though, it was no Napoleon Dynamite. None can compare, IDIOT!

Could it be true?

2005-01-22T11:58:00.000-08:00

Could there actually be a "Christian" music artist I think is really good, and maybe even profound?? I have discovered this guy named Mat Kearney--who is sort of a cross between Dave Matthews, Jack Johnson, and Eminem. He has a folksy sound with some R and B rappish stuff thrown in. It is sort of strange at first, but catchy at the same time. His lyrics aren't half bad either--definitely not your typical "Hallelujah, I love Jesus" Christian-y stuff.

Now, I can't fully endorse any artist without having bought their CD yet, which I haven't, but I have heard some stuff on the radio and on the 'net and it ain't half bad. I practically gave up on Christian music years ago when "From Burlap to Cashmere" broke up. They had this amazing Mediterranean flavored folksy sound that I really dug.

If there even is anyone from Minnesota who reads this blog, maybe you will appreciate the following story:

Eva has been inconsolable at night when I try to put her to sleep. The other night, after several failed attempts, I went in and sang her a lullaby I made up about Minnesota (I tend to be great at improv song writing), since that is where she was born, of course. I sang to her about the cold, about Eden Prairie, and about how special she is to have been born there. Worked like a charm and she went down without a peep. Now, it could be coincidence, but I like to think it was something deep within her baby soul that felt comforted by the thought of her motherland!

Sun, Sun, Go Away

2005-01-19T10:36:00.000-08:00

Who would have thought I would hate the warm weather in winter? Today, it is almost 60 degrees and tomorrow, it will be ALMOST 70 DEGREES!!! Colorado is SO warm; I had forgotten just how mild the weather is. It just doesn't feel right wearing short sleeves in January!

Besides the warm weather and all the sickness around here (2 weeks of strep, diarrhea, phlegm, and all sorts of other pathogenic things), the other news is that I have gotten a job. That's right, Dan, I DO have some personal ambition after all!

My official title is "specialiste," which is French for specialist. A specialist in what, I don't really know. But, I am working for Chanel, making quite good $$ to travel to various stores each week and help with events. It is only about 12 hours a week, so it won't infringe on all my wifely duties.
Not my dream job, but a really good interim thing for me to do.

My dream job used to be a teacher--but I know enough real-life teachers now to have shattered that one really quickly. My other dream job was to be an editor/writer, but then I realized how many other good writers are out there in the world and that I probably ranked at least 799,866th on the list of people who can piece together words that make some sense.

I still can't figure out how to put links on blogs...but google the guy in Denver who didn't know he put a nail through his head with a nail gun and went to the dentist after 6 days, complaining of a tooth ache. He had a 5 inch nail through his head. $100,000 worth of surgery later...he is okay. How could you not know you shot a nail through your head????

If this household doesn't start feeling better soon, I may just grab that nail gun and use my poor aim, just so I can lay down for a while.

Two Different Shopping Experiences

2005-01-10T09:39:00.000-08:00

1) This Saturday, I went into Neiman Marcus (Maybe my 3rd time ever) and went up to the makeup counter. The woman says to me, "Oh, you poor thing, look at your skin! What in the world are you using on it?" followed by, "Look at Diana here, isn't her skin beautiful? She uses "such and such" line of products developed by a biochemist."

My response to bitch lady, "Well, even though my face looks like crap, I am really happy with my skin care products which were also developed by a biochemist."

Her response, "Well, MY biochemist is better than yours!"

Just kidding about the last part.

2) After the lady's disparaging comments, I walk into Saks, which is right next door, to the makeup counter. The lady says to me, "You have really nice skin. It just glows." "Really? Because it is really broken out right now." "Well, the tone and texture are just beautiful." She then made no effort to hard sell me any crappola skin care products.

Guess where I would want to spend my money? I actually didn't spend any $$, but I learned that criticizing someone in order to get them to buy products is always a horrible idea.

Madison to Dan this weekend, "Dad, I just feel like you treat me like your little girl still, like I am a three year old. I am almost 11 this week and it really bothers me!"

Let the hormones begin.

Depravity

2005-01-05T11:01:00.000-08:00

Eva has been hitting me lately. If I pick her up when she doesn't like it or I take something away from her, she will hit me. My Mom told me today it is because of her "depraved nature"--meaning that we are all born with a depraved nature, because we are all born sinners.

I grew up thinking I couldn't acknowledge anything good about myself until I caveated it with, "of course I am a sinner" or "I don't deserve God's grace" or "I know I am a fallen woman". I remember riding in the car with my Mom and she had a Christian radio station on with a pastor who said, "Begin every day with the realization that you are all filthy, dirty, rotten sinners."

Is that really how I should begin my day? I have struggled for years with shame, guilt, and low self-esteem because of this rationale. I do believe in sin and evil, but COME ON PEOPLE. Does God call us to live in a constant place of awareness of our depravity? How does that help my family, my friends, and the world at large? My general sense and opinion is that many Christians (especially in the evangelical world) cannot see any goodness or beauty or strength in themselves or others because it feels somehow like that takes away from the acknowledgement of sin and the "flesh". I made the mistake recently of sharing some of my marital struggles with a friend out here who kept telling me to "live in the Spirit and not in the flesh". I am just not at a place in my life where that even appeals to me or makes sense. I AM IN THE FLESH. I am a woman God created with a mind, body, spirit, and soul and that means I have visceral reactions and emotions that are certainly not a symptom of not living in the Spirit. I find God often when I do things that are fleshly: when I run and the cold air fills my nostrils like some sort of spiritual crack-cocaine, when I dance and feel free and happy and restful, when Dan and I are intimate and our physicality transcends each other and reflects an extravagance that is good and pleasing to all our senses. Maybe it is cliche, but I find God and FEEL God in things that are very non-traditional, and maybe even a little bit depraved.

I am so angry at organized Christianity and the corporate church that I feel a hopelessness we will never find a community out here in Colorado that is not going to make me gag. That may sound arrogant, and yet that is my heart. It is all I can do not to roll my eyes or jump out of my chair when we have visited churches lately. I feel sad over the state of Christianity within the church and what the future holds. I struggle with the needs most people who follow God seem to have to "identify" with an organization, ministry, or label. I miss our church in Minneapolis and my community of people there. I feel that is what my life is missing, and yet I feel helpless to recreate that here.

I have really appreciated the comments some of you have left lately. The zinc, Al Franken, etc...I have felt loved in small ways and it has meant a lot.

Dan is going to be ponying up one of his free plane tickets to me eventually, so get ready for my depravity to descend upon you sometime in the near future.

Happpppy New Year

2005-01-03T18:56:00.000-08:00

My resolutions are the typical cliche ones:

write more
read more
pursue more interesting people (As opposed to boring ones)
discover a new hobby (knitting? Indian cooking?)

I have declared this year my year of "personal ambition" because I am on a mission to prove to my husband that I actually have some! (You mean blogging along with intermittently taking care of children doesn't seem very ambitious?) I forgive you, honey, for your mean comments, but in the future, telling your wife that she could actually "be somebody" if she tried doesn't go over too well. Perhaps a future Onion headline: HUSBAND TELLS WIFE SHE COULD ACTUALLY BE SOMEBODY IF SHE TRIED AT THE SAME TIME SHE IS CHANGING POOPY DIAPERS

My Christmas gifts this year:

Some cool clothes from Dan from Banana Republic
A nice wallet
some earrings
the book _The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands_ by Dr. Laura "I am a pain in your ass" Schlessinger

Now, to receive that book from my husband wasn't my dream gift by any means. And, of course, Dr. Laura writes a bunch of stuff that is not true (uh, no, I don't think putting on lipstick and a big smile when Dan comes home from work is really going to solve my marriage problems). I do agree that most women shouldn't be nags (duh!), but to simplistically reduce men to wanting mostly "sex and an efficient household" in order for them to be happy seems ludicrous. I tried not to take it too personally--and after we discussed it, I realized he was just trying to be helpful--but I am thinking of what book I can get for Dan that would even come close.

Any suggestions?

On a far more serious note, I am humbled to live in safety and warmth this time of year when so many have been affected by the tsunami. I forget how we are all at the mercy of life's fragility, and tonight I pray that those who are mourning may experience a brief moment of peace or rest.

Off to VA we go

2004-11-30T18:20:00.001-08:00

We all fly out tomorrow to Virginia (where I lived until I was 12) for my grandfather's 90th birthday party. He is sharp as a tack, fit as a fiddle. I am looking forward to celebrating with him and all my extended family. I will mourn the day that his generation has died out...he remembers the Depression, WWII, Elvis Presley, and all other strange phenomena of culture here in America. To hear his stories is truly amazing. He received an orange for Christmas one year in the 20's and he thought that was such a special gift. Can you imagine if our kids received a piece of fruit?

I love history and sometimes I wish I had experienced American life from 1914 until now. How many changes I would have witnessed! I wonder if he is aware of how different life is now or if it is just a sort of gradual thing where it isn't as dramatic as "we used blocks of ice to keep our food cold and now we have the internet".

I am looking forward to showing Eli and Dan the city of Washington and all of its beauty. Architecturally, it is gorgeous, and I grew up with so many fond memories there. We would take field trips to the White House, the Lincoln Memorial, Civil War battlefields...it was such a great place to "feel" American history. Somehow, I feel connected to that city and I wonder if someday my life might take me back there for good.

Off to VA we go

2004-11-30T18:20:00.000-08:00

Up to here in dog poop

2004-11-19T08:26:00.000-08:00

Out of the goodness of my heart I let my Mom's dog continue to stay with us for two weeks after she moved out--to help her get settled and unpack, etc....without the stress of the dog. Well, the goodness in my heart has become the badness in my soul. She is all unpacked and suspiciously has not picked up the dog yet. So, after the dog pooped and peed all over the carpet last night, I gave her a call and let her know that enough was enough. The dog peed all over the stairs this morning as well just to make sure I won't miss her at all when my mom picks her up today.

I don't like animals that much, and I especially don't like them when they share their excremental waste with my carpets.

Our marriage therapist said to me and Dan this week, "If both of you aren't willing to work on your own issues, which is the only thing you can ultimately control in this relationship, then there probably is no future for your marriage."

I think of impending divorce, tragedy, and all other saddening things. Dan asks me later on that day when we are going to have more kids. How did we get on such different planets? I don't like any of that Mars and Venus crap, but I do think we process life through a different lens. And, no, I am not pregnant, nor will be. Fighting is great birth control!

This holiday season I want to get off my depressed, growing fatter ass and try to do something charitable. Not just because it is charitable, but also because I do not want my kids to associate the holidays with just "taking". There is so much consuming: food, presents, self-indulgent activities. I want it to be about the Messiah baby, giving, loving, and mercy. Not everyone has a stuffed range-free all natural turkey from Whole Foods to eat, and damnit, I want my kids to realize that.

4 more years

2004-11-03T07:41:00.000-08:00

Much to my delight and to the sadness of some dear friends, Bush has won re-election. Sure, the Dems are trying to hold on to Ohio, but mathematically speaking, it is virtually impossible for Kerry to overcome the deficit there and all but the staunchest of liberal networks have admitted Bush is the winner. I do believe that mainstream America has been represented by this election. Bush has received more votes than any president, ever (according to my recent sources on the Internet). More minorities than ever before have come out to vote and more voted for Bush/the Republicans than in any other election. Bussing in the Native American vote still didn't keep Daschle in office. Besides the electoral college, Bush has won by an amazing amount of popular votes as well, which did NOT happen in 2000. I am shocked by this in particular. I thought it would be closer in that regard.

Unfortunately, as James Carville and Doug Brinkley had to admit last night, the Democratic party must re-evaluate itself in order to flourish in this country. It cannot be represented by a left-wing socialist, but by an individual who more closely represents America. I do feel that if a Kennedy-esque Democrat had been nominated, their chances would have been better. Why would the Dems nominate a self-admitted "war-criminal" during a time when the military, terror, and war, are at the forefront of the election issues? I believe that was the first fatal error in a long list of many that kept Kerry from reaching mainstream ideology.

I am not gloating today. I am happy, though. The numbers feel vindicating from predictions that proved far differently. I do feel that Bush, though accused of being so far to the right, will move to a more moderate camp as he approaches the next 4 years. I do think most of America is in his camp, and this sends a clear message to the world that we support him, we support our troops in Iraq, and that we are NOT a divided nation. I talked for a while with an Iraqi war veteran last week who told me how strongly the troops believe in what they are doing over in the Middle East. I couldn't imagine how divisive it would be to switch the administration in the middle of a national crisis. I am thankful we do not have to find out.

Though I am sensitive to those I care about who voted Kerry, I don't give a rat's ass about Michael Moore and I believe that the popular vote margin and the electoral college win by Bush will be enough to wipe that smarmy grin off his face for a while.

No matter who won, our nation would have continued to be great. Our children will still flourish under our love and care as parents, our freedoms will abound, and our right to vote and choose will carry through to the next four years when we can blog, talk, pray, fret, and discuss all of these issues again.

I am thankful that we can move on and look ahead now. I pray Bush and his administration will be wise and measured as they do the same.

Oops

2004-10-21T15:46:00.000-07:00

My last blog was a draft I was working on and I had it all perfected, and then I published it, and it was still the lame old draft and the revised version is lost forever. I am mortified that such thoughts were out there for a few days. Thank God for "Delete".

I am done politicizing except to say that I am SO glad Teresa Heinz Kerry says the things she does. It might help me out a little. I know we all say things we regret or are misunderstood, but COME ON, what kind of a real job is it to inherit billions of dollars? Don't talk smack about Laura if you can't take it, girl. I hope it starts a grassroots housewives movement to start demanding salaries from our husbands. I heard on TV this week that some women make their husbands pay them each week for staying home with the kids. I like this idea in some ways, but I also think that if my husband paid me for working around the house we would be even poorer than we are, and that isn't the point of me staying home in the first place.

I have been trying to learn how to be cheap, though. I actually bought a shirt for $12 the other day and then as I was walking away with my purchase decided I didn't really need it after all and that $12 was indeed a lot of money just to throw away on a shirt that wasn't a necessity, so I waited in line for 25 minutes with two kids to immediately return it. Now, that may be more neurotic than cheap, but nonetheless, I am tryin'.

My friend Carla Barnhill wrote a fantastic book about motherhood and the myths associated with that role, especially in regards to spirituality. The book has really helped me process many of my frustrations not only with mothering, but also with the church's response to mothering and the stay at home/work outside the home issue. She does a great job of looking at the cultural ways motherhood has been influenced, and how this has also affected the church's notions about what a "godly" mother is. Anyway, I have loved it and am almost finished and I write this paragraph not only as props to Carla but to let everyone know that the book is also inspiring me to be more financially responsible. She shares a few stories about her family and their choices with regards to budgeting and cutting corners, and although I haven't purchased the book that she claims has been beneficial (The Tightwad Gazette), I plan to. I think this is an area for Carla to write her next book. I was brought up not to discuss money, salaries, etc...but what good does that do any of us? I have realized that I can learn a lot from those around me in terms of how they spend/save/budget their money, and it seems that there should be some way other than to read books in the FINANCE section of Barnes and Noble to help one gain financial wisdom. I think a combination of books and maybe a "collective community" of people willing to share about this topic might be beneficial for me. I have improved greatly on our ridiculous grocery bill by cooking "refrigerator enchiladas" quite often. The recipe is really simple: take everything leftover in the fridge, roll it up into tortillas (corn or flour will do), smother it in some cheese, and bake it until done. This has proven to be that miracle dinner when there is only $1 in the checking account and the dinner hour rolls around. It is also amazing how good anything tastes with a little cheese melted on top.

For any of you growing concerned, I am exaggerating about the $1 in the checking account, but it makes me feel more heroic in my cooking creativity. However, if you feel compelled to mail money to Martha Stewart, please refrain from doing so and send it my way.

I am trying to decide whether or not I want to finish my english/lit. degree, but switch the emphasis to creative writing, or whether or not I want to learn a trade specific to something I care about--like cosmetology or speech writing. Who knows--maybe I can market myself as a speech writer who will style hair to coincide with the vibe of the speech. You know, spiky angry hair for a real hell-raiser, and a gentle combover for a more vulnerable approach. By the time George P. runs for office (he IS the best looking of the bunch), perhaps I will be able to put my skills to good use.

All Pooped Out

2004-10-13T08:20:00.000-07:00

I hate to blog about feces, but since that is what I am knee deep into right now, I got nuthin' else. Eva now has contracted the dreaded virus that has waylaid Eli for 7 days and counting. I am just holding my breath for my own intestinal health. Nothing happening yet, but I know it might still be ahead of me.

So, between changing dirty diapers and wiping up poop from the bathroom carpet and toilet (this whole thing has reiterated my disgust for any home builder who sees fit to put carpet in bathrooms--how could this ever have been a good idea?), I am all pooped out.

Pondering the Reasons for my Insanity This Evening...

2004-10-11T20:44:00.000-07:00

1. We live with our house backing up to a street which means loud mufflers at all times of the day. I thought there was some kind of law against it, but apparently not for middle aged men on motorcycles.

2. Beyond the street, we live behind the dog from hell, which judging from his bark, must be a 200 pounder. Of course, he barks incessantly at all times of the day and usually right when I am getting ready to try to take a nap or go to sleep for the night. I loved my husband so much more when he got up out of bed the other night, drove in his car to pinpoint the exact house, and then called animal control only to be met by an answering machine. Apparently animal control is only available to pass out warnings when the dog isn't barking. The "control" part of the name is really just a joke.

3. My poor son has been hit with some sort of Montezuma's Revenge. Let's just say that Montezuma has been "hitting" all day and all night for 5 days and counting. Thus, when I am not pulling toilet patrol and the resulting laundry patrol, I am onto #4.

4. Eva, who will be one on Thursday, is still not interested in sleeping. Why doesn't she realize the benefit that sleep has for all of us, especially me? It is God's cruel joke that for 9 months leading up to her birth I slept horribly due to peeing, a growing girth, and all other sorts of misery, and now, one year later, I still sleep horribly. One year plus 9 months equals 18 months of "When will I ever sleep for more than 3 hours straight again?"

5. My Mom gets home from work, the grocery store, wherever, and runs into the house and hits the page button for the phone immediately. I do not know why this occurs, but it is strange and unusual. If she were expecting a call from someone important, I could maybe understand her desire to locate the phone immediately, but since this has occurred every day for 4 months straight, and even many times per day, I don't think Publisher's Clearinghouse is going to call.

6. Both Dan and his 16 year old son Tyler are cursed with the "I lost it" disorder. Dan consistently leaves his things in hotel rooms, on the roof of his car, at restaurants, at wedding receptions, etc... Tyler has now followed suit and informed me this weekend when he was at my house that he can't find his wallet that has $250 cash in it, some of which he owes me. I try to be understanding, but this particular disorder is getting very costly.

Those are my top 6 this evening. I could think of more, but I am too tired, and I fear Montezuma may not be done revenging whatever is left of this ol' gal.

Am I a Weaker Vessel?

2004-09-28T11:04:00.000-07:00

This blog is necessary to my mental health and I must say, I need to stop myself from writing a treatise on the evangelical church and its view towards women. I will just stick to the "issue" for as long as I can, although this is so multi-layered for me.

My Mom and I got into an argument the other night about women being "weaker" vessels. She complained because at 58, she is having to work more than ever (my parents are getting divorced and she has to go from being at home to working almost full time), and that she was really tired. I expressed empathy for her, because I DO know it is a tough transition and physically she is older, etc... but I also said to her that a lot of men are still working at that age, and full time. She replied, "Yes, but women are the weaker vessels." When I asked her to explain what she meant, she said that it is a Biblical concept that God made women with weaker "constitutions" and that they are "weaker". I told her that of course I realized most men could beat me in an arm-wrestling competition, but that physical strength may be the only way that men are consistently "stronger" than women. She then proceeded to tell me that she has heard it "preached" on many times and she went and looked up the verse (I Peter 3:7) and told me to make an appointment with a pastor out here and that he would explain to me that that is what the verse meant.

If I could describe her condescension in a more tangible way, I would be doing so now, but when I again replied to her that I believed God made both men and women in His image, and that though they may possess different tendencies and be drawn to different roles, that there was no "weaker" vessel between the two. The conversation got me really fired up. I was laying in bed unable to sleep as I realized why the issue had stirred up so much within me.

My Mom is the typical example of the evangelical Christian who lives in a completely black and white world. I do believe in black and white on some issues (it is probably NEVER a good idea to cheat on one's spouse, for example), but I always TRY to approach life with an open heart and mind to what God has to teach me or what others show me through their lives, stories, and wisdom. I realize that my views on many things may be wrong, but the fact that Jesus loves me and I love Him is most definitely right. It angers me how the evangelical church uses the Bible to try to justify everything from how children should be raised (Is Growing Kids God's Way really His way? If I don't follow it, am I then growing my kids Satan's way?), to how people should date (correct me if I am wrong, but nowhere in the Bible does it say that a potential date should call the girl's father before asking her to Starbucks--especially if she is 35, Bill Gothard), to "traditional" roles within the home, to even eating certain foods. My Mom's quickness to say that something is "Biblical" is evidence of her training that one cannot refute anything "Biblical". Evangelicals throw out that word like it is the trump card, the supremely irrefutable piece of evidence that something is truth and if I don't believe it to be truth, then I am clearly living as a backslidden sinner.

She told me that I was wrong because I was falsely interpreting the Bible. How, then, is it that she is correctly interpreting it? It seems to me that much of what we all believe is filtered through our own eyes of interpretation. The evangelical church, or at least my mother, believes that everything in Scripture is black and white, and for me to see anything else but those clear parameters makes me spiritually lukewarm. My Mom's world would be shattered if she were to ever step outside her safety box of her brand of Christianity and view it from a different perspective. My Mom has attended some of the churches I have called home these past few years. She views them all as entirely "New Age-y" and not filled with people willing to speak the truth of God. Yet, I believe the truth of God is found in broken people, surrounded my candles or homemade artwork, trying to grapple with what we are called to do as people who have chosen to follow a man who left some very confusing words for us. Growing up, I heard that God was a God of "consequences" and that we all reap what we sow in life. There is some truth in that, surely, but I never heard God was a God of love, grace, infinite mercy, and complete safety. If I did, it was quickly caveated with judgment, brimstone, and a re-telling of Sodom and Gomorrah, in case I had forgotten and thought God had actually spared the city.

I want my children to hear the message I now hear: that God is a rescuer, a lover, a saver, and a friend. Throughout the Bible, He rescued far more than He ever destroyed. He loved adulterers, prostitutes, murderers, thieves, and the self-righteous. He saved children, the lost, the poor, and the "least of these". He was a friend to men, women, animals, and his family.

Most of all, He is a friend to me and I do not think He cares if my mother thinks I am a weaker vessel.

Minnesotans...they're everywhere!

2004-09-21T11:00:00.000-07:00

When I wrote my last blog, I had no idea it was interlinked with Jimmy's kissing extravaganza--I am just sad I wasn't at church Sunday to experience all the love.

On an entirely different note from kissing, but one that still involves the mouth area, my daughter Eva almost choked to death on a bead on Sunday morning. Now, maybe it wasn't choking "to death", but to a scared mother, that is exactly what it seemed like.

I was driving Eva to church alone because Dan took the other kids earlier for a kid-festival thing. I STUPIDLY let Eva hold one of my beaded bracelets in the back seat, thinking to myself that surely an 11 month old child can't rip apart a bracelet...as I am stopped at a light, I hear her choking/gagging in the back seat and I instantly knew what was happening, "Ohmigod she got the beads." I reached back and fished one out of her throat, and I took the ones out of her hands, and then reached my finger down her throat (later the paramedics told me that was a no-no, but what was I going to do?) to clear it. I then put the car in park, ran outside, screamed "HELP ME!" and the people behind me got out to help.

At this point, Eva is crying/choking pretty hard, but there was no bead in her mouth/throat, so she was just residually choking. The people behind me called 911 and the paramedics came and looked her over, but said we should go the the ER in case the bead was lodged in her throat. At this point, I was crying from the adrenaline, the fear, and the fact I was certain I deserved the "STUPIDEST MOTHER OF THE YEAR" award. At the ER, she was X-rayed, and they couldn't see the bead, but the doctor said that it was small enough to pass in her poop if she had swallowed it--although the bead was probably 3/4-1 inch in circumference. Thank God Eva was and is okay, but the fear of losing her, the terror I felt when I heard her gasping in the back seat and feeling so frightened that I wouldn't be able to save her was one of my most emotionally exhausting moments as a mother.

Speaking of mothers, the story gets more interesting. If you were my mother, and you drove by 2 police cars, an ambulance, and your daughter's blue minivan with her BUSH/CHENEY '04 sticker on the back, would you stop? Even if you're a Democrat, I still ask you, would you stop?

My Mom was on her way to work when she passed the scene of our family drama, and she went on ahead to work and then called the police to ask them what happened. HUH?

I asked her when she got home that night why she didn't stop--for all she knew, I may have been breathing my last breath--and her response was, "I was in the far right lane, so I couldn't turn around, and I couldn't tell for SURE if it was your van." O-kay.

At least the people who were behind our van when I frantically ran out to help Eva had a parting message that was too good to be true. They saw my license plates and as we walked off towards the ambulance, yelled out after us, "It will all be okay. We're from Minnesota, too!"

A different kind of kiss

2004-09-13T20:55:00.000-07:00

At church on Sunday, a woman I had met the week before came up to me and gave me a huge kiss on the cheek. It was weird because it is SO uncommon, but also very nice and friendly. She was so natural and warm about it, that I began to think about why I didn't kiss more of my friends. It is such a cultural thing in America only to kiss family/kids, or our significant others. I obviously don't mean on the lips or anything with tongue, but why don't we kiss our friends on the cheek more? It is such an intimate, loving, way to greet or to part with friends that I think I am going to start revving up the ol' pucker.

Those of you in Minnesota got nothing to worry about until my next descent upon the city, but I may try my new experiment on my friends out here and see how they react. I will make sure to pop an Altoid first, although that is the beauty of cheek kissing--the breath is not nearly as vital to the success of the kiss as it would be for a plant on the lips.

Sleep Deprivation, Life Deprivation

2004-09-09T17:58:00.000-07:00

I have an 11 month old newborn. For 11 months, I have never slept through the night. Now, before all you parental units and non-parental units tell me that I need to just let her cry it out or that I am spoiling her, let me tell you, I have tried it all. So, tell me, tell me, what is there left for me to do? Besides invest in a really good under eye concealer, I think my options are all out. I have let her cry it out, I have tried patting her back, I have nursed her, I have done all variations of all of the above. Short of slipping a nubain into her food, I am exhausted, tired, fatigued, and all other synonyms that might explain my haggard spirit.

I will often lie in bed (like this morning) after she goes down for a nap and pray, beg, and plead with God for her to sleep for at least a full hour, if not a glorious two, and yet I think He is all backed up with requests that are far more important. I can't believe that this issue has affected my life so much. I have little interest in anything other than sleeping, I have little energy for relationships and people, and I certainly am doing a less than great job around the house.

Yes, I DO still have the energy to blog. Though it is work, I muster up the strength each day to lift my fingers high enough to apply JUST the right amount of pressure onto the keyboard, and to pound out some rational sentences. Semi-rational, maybe.

On another note, we tried a new church last week. It meets at a hotel (not a seedy one, mind you) and is sort of trying to market itself as a seeker-friendly community using lots of different creative mediums. It was VERY contrived, in my opinion. The music was solid, but they played movie clips from Braveheart, Gladiator, and Robin Hood while the words "What is the cry of your heart?" flashed across the screen. A few years ago, this might have moved me a bit, but now, I just think it is so forced, so contrivedly put together, and so "Ra, Ra, Let's get fired up about our passion, our hearts, our purpose!" that it puts me off a little bit. The pastor was a good ol' boy from Georgia who moved here with the sole intent of planting a church in the south Denver suburbs--which is so overchurched it is insane. I did not care for him or his trite message about how we commit to a church: "in pencil, in ink, or in blood". Not sure about the blood thing... His intentions were solid, surely, and his message wasn't theologically wacky or out there, but it was just very simple, formulaic, and blah. To speak of the "cry of my heart", I would say it is cynical and pretty bored. I am trying to be open as we visit different churches and try to find a community, but thus far, it is definitely no SP. I am trying my expectation lowering technique when it comes to marriage, churches, and everything else right now. If I just lower my expectations, then I won't be disappointed....a bad idea, I realize, but there is so much longing and desire right now that is brewing for me, for my family, and for our lives that I do not know what to do with it.

My Mom's house will be ready November 5th...which will be a good thing for her, and for us. Her living here hasn't been too bad in many ways (the extra help with the kids, the house, etc...has been swell), but when she told me this week that "it doesn't seem like I clean the house or that I enjoy cleaning" it wasn't a bright moment for me. Or, that when I forgot to turn in Eli's hot lunch form for school that "I wasn't a very organized person". No, I do not enjoy cleaning, and at times, I am not organized.

But, I am, however, happy it is Friday and that Carla Barnhill's new book is supposed to arrive either today or tomorrow.

I know I have good friends when...

2004-09-02T11:01:00.000-07:00

...I feel so loved by the responses and encouragement to my blog yesterday. I think I sometimes blog and just "put it out there" and don't really think anyone will read it (I know, contradictory to the point of blogging), but then I am reminded that people do read my thoughts, comment on them, and encourage me in my life in ways that make me most thankful.

I do think that Saturday was this "purging" experience for us. We put it all out on the table--how bad it really is, how miserable we have been, and how we want things to change. Much of our conversation hurt deeply, but it was so freeing to finally SAY what has been eating away at our hearts. We have already been through a 4 month separation a few years ago, and we realize that we do not want to go down that road again--that there is so much to salvage, repair, cling to, and ultimately love.

In many ways, I am angry that we left Minnesota--it was very idyllic for me--quiet culdesac, amazing church community, great school for Eli, friends who loved us...and so it feels like we left a place that was peaceful, healing (it was where we had Eva and learned for the first time to be a family without our other "families" being involved), and restful and went into a place that was chaotic, noisy, and crazy. Our neighborhood out here is loud--our house backs up to a street, our neighbors are so close to us we often feel we are living in an apartment complex, and the emotional noise in our lives matches the external. Someone told me recently I needed to "get over the past," but I do not think that is fair to my heart or to the 2 years I spent in a place I loved. I DO need to try to figure out how to remember the past but feel propelled into the next chapter of my life which does not include the many things I loved about Minnesota. What do I love about Colorado?

-mountains
-mountains
-mountains
-limited mosquitoes
-mountains
-mountains
-mountains

At least it is a start...and of course, if Colorado goes W in the election and Minnesota doesn't, I can add one more thing to the list.

Ahnold, I'm back...

2004-09-01T10:14:00.000-07:00

It has been a while since I have blogged. Depression, fighting with Dan, and busyness have all played a role, but I think some of the fog has lifted and I feel like hitting the keyboard again to write down whatever the heck comes to mind. Today, I am thinking about...

The Republican National Convention--Yes, feel good rhetoric is characteristic of politics in general, but I have been impressed thus far to the point one can be impressed by such an event. I disagree that the Republicans are trying to pass as moderates or anything else--I think they are being true to the party, if not for a bit of a Reagan-esque slant, which is more than fine with me. I can't wait until tonight...Michael Reagan, Zell Miller (yeah, a Dem!) ...should be interesting. Though I may not agree with everything W does or says, I really respect him for taking a stand and then sticking to it--and for talking like a good ol' Texas cowboy. He is SO not a politician in the polished, Clintonian sense of the word. John Kerry has been so all over the map during his entire political career, and it is difficult for me to really see him nailing down any issue. I detest panderers. I detest poll-following politics. He is a walking contradiction. He is falling behind in the polls, although I think polls are worthless. And, I don't know what to think of the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth, however my Dad fought in Vietnam when Kerry did, and he told me a fascinating story of his friend who scratched his arm on a barbed wire fence during a battle and was thus awarded a Purple Heart. He told me the government was practically throwing Purple Hearts at soldiers. I will say that any person who serves in the military earns my instant respect, but I do think there is massive room for elaboration about that time served. I applaud the freedom in this country for people to voice their opinions about Kerry's service in Vietnam or even reprobate Michael Moore's film with all its propagandic editing.

On a different note entirely...I am thinking today about Saturday night.

Dan and I went to the Prince concert, which was okay...honestly, I thought it would be amazing, but it was just solidly good. The part that was more noteworthy was the fight that Dan and I had on the way home where we both pretty much admitted we were hanging on to our relationship by a thread and that thread was pretty much the vow we took and our children (worthy threads, mind you, but nonetheless still saddening). It was a deeply tragic conversation because we both finally voiced how difficult things have been and how despairing we have felt. It has turned out to be a cathartic moment for us, because I think we have both been moved towards some real change in our relationship and some tangible growth and healing. Only time will tell, but I am hoping that Saturday night was the breaking point we needed for our heart and guts to spill open and for us to have nothing left but our raw, bleeding pain that can only heal now that the blood has spilled freely.

My name is NOT Raquel!

2004-08-20T08:31:00.000-07:00

I had training with Chanel all day yesterday in a pretty nice hotel downtown...the trainer started out the day calling me "Rachel" and then went through some weird switch and started calling me "Raquel" for the rest of the day. I didn't correct him, maybe I should have...in a room of about 50 women, I felt a little awkward calling out the only man in the room on his grammatically impaired memory. Besides, he was trying SO hard to throw anecdotes in that would imply he wasn't gay, when all of us surely knew better. Being Raquel for a few hours wasn't so bad, but it was the hour plus drive home in rush hour that was very bad. Denver has only TWO highways---one that goes north and south (I-25) and one that goes east and west (C-470/I-70)....CRAZY. This is not a small cowboy podunk town as many might believe, and the traffic is horrendous. At least in Minnesota you have many choices about which route you want to take to arrive at your destination.

I already knew this, but was re-reminded yesterday that Chanel No.5 is 80 years old and is still the #1 selling fragrance in the world--140 Million dollars a year worldwide. When I smell it, I think of my grandmother, but not in a bad way. I think of femininity, class, and another era, which is all sort of comforting. I wore it yesterday on my wrist and by the end of the day I decided that I loved it, which was surprising because over the past 3 years working for Chanel on and off I have never really felt that way. All the people in my life that are important have a certain smell...."a signature scent". Dan's is sort of sweet and yet musky--his own skin smell is yummier than any cologne he could wear. Eli's is very little boy-ish, sometimes he smells like wet dog and other times like fresh soap from his nightly bath. Eva smells like urine a lot--which I know sounds gross, but I like it! It's just that her diapers get so full so fast that sometimes the odor sort of envelops her and she smells like baby pee. She smells really distinctive. When I nurse her, I often bend down to smell her face because I want to remember just how sweet it is, and often I think she smells like the best vanilla ice cream in the world. Fresh vanilla, cream, and sugar...and I want to lick her! The animal kingdom is full of "lickers", and yet we kiss and do not "taste" those around us (and, no, this has no sexual connotations whatsoever). I often want to immerse myself in those I love so that I can taste them as distinctly as I do my breakfast of eggs and toast, or even better, my favorite--a quality piece of chocolate melting in my mouth.

I think the power of smell and scent is often under-stressed in my life, and today, I am going to make an effort to "smell" with heightened awareness.

Friday, the 13th

2004-08-13T10:28:00.000-07:00

I am not superstitous, but it IS Friday, the 13th, Dan's birthday, and since Dan is a little kooky at times, it is fitting that his 37th birthday is a day that can be kinda kooky. Happy birthday, Danny-poo! I wish I had planned something really exciting for us to do today, but I didn't. I did drive to a bakery and pick you up a French Silk pie, so that should account for something. I don't know why, but it seems the more married I am, the less creative I get in terms of birthdays, anniversaries, etc... I remember putting together these elaborately themed gifts and making all sorts of special plans and arrangements in the early years of my relationship...and now, I am thinking it is easier just to get nothing and drive to pick up a ready made pie.

Happy Friday to everybody!

Working Girl

2004-08-10T08:18:00.000-07:00

Well, I go to work today for the first time in a year...it is only a 6 hour shift, but I haven't left Eva that long yet in all of her 10 months, so it is a little hard--but since I am only working about 4 days a month, I can't complain. Plus, OF COURSE the one day I have to go to work, she is up every HOUR last night...I think she is teething, and Stacy, thanks for the gel suggestion. I try to go the homeopathic/holistic route whenever possible. However, at this point, I think I may need some illegal substances to be able to carry on with my exhausted life. UGH.

There have been a lot of birthdays this week for the Porch peeps...Jenell's is today, Dan's is Friday, Jeff and Stacy's close together....we should have all arranged some sort of party halfway between Denver and Minneapolis. Anybody in for a road trip to Omaha?

Today, I am thankful for Target carrying affordable work clothes so I don't have to wear holey sweats on the job, the dry Colorado air that makes the heat bearable, and the distant hope that one day soon I may experience more than 5 hours of sleep per night. My blogs and my life will be much more interesting once that occurs. But, for now, I will milk the "I only get 5 hours of sleep per night, so don't expect me to be _________" (the blank could read: "happy", "cleaning the house","willing to do that", "ready for sex", "able to have this conversation", "my best self", etc...

Come to think of it, maybe this sleep deprivation thing might not be so bad after all.

Weekend Update

2004-08-09T10:58:00.000-07:00

Saw "Collateral" on Saturday night. Good movie--not a perfect film, but nonetheless, a gripping, good story, and solid acting. And, of course, Tom Cruise isn't bad either. Although, his hair was sort of weird for me. It was a little distracting at first because I think he looks too young to be gray, but after a while, I didn't notice it (ever since Friday I am still having hair issues). Next on the list is Open Water, as I heard it made Jaws look like Flipper in every way. Naomi? Wanna go?

Yesterday Dan and I fought a lot, which wasn't fun. We have had a really difficult couple of months--the kind where the vows keep you going and not what is actually happening in our midst. We have a lot of added stress into our lives with our changing circumstances and my Mom living here, and I am hopeful that after this time, our hearts will be renewed for one another and we will have a more redemptive and glorious season ahead.

It was a crazy weekend with Dan's sister in town staying with us, my Mom staying here, Dan's two kids and our two kids, and all of the stress that comes along with a lot of people under one roof--not to mention little Eva Luigi Maria Concetta (her new designated Catholic name) waking up every 2-3 hours at night). I am learning that the older I get, the more of an introvert I am, and therefore, the more exhausted I feel by being around people constantly. I am really needing some downtime, and I am thankful that today I will be able to have a little.

It was a while ago, but did anyone, by chance, hear about that story of the man who bought an individual sized bottle of Snapple or soda, and he thought there was a penis inside of it? He took it immediately to the police, and sure, enough, they removed this "thing" in the shape of a penis and sent it to the lab for testing before they started a serious criminal investigation looking for someone missing his "member". It turned out to be MOLD that grew into a phallic shape inside of the juice bottle. I can't find the link about it, but I was, for some wacky reason, thinking about it this morning, and thought I would share a little bizarre tale with you for some Monday entertainment.

Follicular Rejection

2004-08-06T13:31:00.000-07:00

Here's a crazy story for my Friday blues...I am still nursing my wounds from yesterday about this one. Dan has a hairstylist friend who we have known for years. Since we are in the poorhouse, he offered to cut and color my hair for a deal, and so I went in for a consultation (at HIS suggestion, I might add at this point). We laughed, looked at hair pictures, and talked about what I had in mind. I did let him know that I was picky about my hair, but that everything he suggested sounded PERFECT and that we were on the same page. I let him know I would call him when I had the $$ to book the appointment and I went on my merry way with visions of luxurious sun-kissed locks in my mind absent of split ends after the past 3 months of hair neglect. A week goes by, and the "hairstylist" asks Dan if he has an extra ticket for a concert in late August. Dan suggests that he give him the ticket in exchange for him doing my hair. Well, he tells Dan, "I really don't want to do Rachel's hair. " What??? SO, I call him up to schedule my appointment and jokingly let him know I heard he didn't want to do my hair. He told me that he was serious and that he thought I was so particular that he would disappoint me and it would come between his friendship with Dan and that I would probably want him to redo it and that it would be a pain, etc... Now, this may all sound reasonable, but this is a person who has OFFERED countless times to do my hair, and who was on the same page as me when we met in his salon. I know this sounds extreme, but how dare I be rejected by a hairstylist! I would have paid him, I would have respected him, and I am sure it would have turned out great. I felt so rejected and hurt that I am embarrassed to admit I got a little teary when he told me he wouldn't do it.

But, I quickly nursed my rejected spirit and called the nearest salon and got a fabulous hair cut.
Still, something in me felt more hurt than normal. Since I lost a friendship this past year with another hair stylist that was unstable (for different reasons), I have decided that it is unwise to ever let "friends" do your hair. Hair should be a strict business transaction for me, because every time I have tried to mix hair and friends, I have come up empty.

So, $32 for a cut and a box of $3 hair color from Walgreens later, I am a new woman. I have decided not to let this follicular rejection get me down, but to pick my head up, shake out my hair, and carry on without a cosmetologist in my life.

(Yes, this above story is not meant to be taken completely seriously, but for the record I DO feel it is always unwise to mix hair and love)

Here are some things I learned this week that are important to share:

1) Javier likes Daniel Lanois, and so do I. He is fab. Acadie is a great CD for any who care.

2) I love dried strawberries. Try 'em.

3) Eli is amazing at Scrabble. He beat me by more than 50 points, and I actually TRIED.

4) God is re-invigorating something inside of me that has been dormant for a long time--that part of me that wants to stay "present" with what I may have to offer the world, and what other have to offer me. This includes, but is not limited to, writing, creating, and living a more "alive" existence. Vague, but still significant.

5) KP has the coolest web links I could ever imagine.

6) I am more sad about my parents divorce (which is in the works right now) than I previously thought. This was triggered by visiting my Dad's new townhouse in Colo Springs this week, and it was weird to see a "bachelor" pad for my Dad after only knowing him in the context of our family home for all of my 27 years.

7) There are so many movies I want to see right now that my mind is frenzied. Open Water, Manchurian Candidate, The Village, Collateral...with popcorn and a date, that should run me about $90. That is absurd. I could have gotten my hair done for the same or less, but instead, I think I will use that hair money to go see movies to take my mind off of my follicular rejection.

jib and jab

2004-08-05T18:44:00.000-07:00

Okay, if you all still haven't checked out the movie "This Land" at jibjab.com you are missing out on a hilarious hit that is all the rave right now. And, I might add, before I saw it on the news, I posted it on my blog site. It is on CNN, Entertainment Weekly, all the local news stations....it is sweeping this politically crazed nation, I tell you! I like it even better because it was created by two brothers who run their business out of a warehouse in CA. They will be looking at a lot more business after all the buzz dies down from this craziness. If it doesn't at least get a chuckle out of you, then I don't know what will.

who knows what to title this mish mash

2004-08-04T07:57:00.000-07:00

As I was folding laundry last night, I caught a few minutes of the TV show, "Last Comic Standing". I gotta tell you, it wasn't that funny. If we are now having competitions on TV where America votes for the funniest person, I need to nominate KP and Jimmy because they would win without even trying. Their observations on everyday life are far funnier than a contrived 7 minutes on NBC.

I wish I had something profound to write today, but I am prohibited because of my lack of sleep. As much as I love Eva and am thankful to have her, the child DOES NOT sleep. She is up at least 2-3 times a night, and her naps are usually one hour tops. What kind of a baby doesn't EVER fall asleep in the car? Knowing that I am a 8-10 hour a night person, at the least, this does not bode well for my energy levels and my sanity in general.

It does, however, make me want to eat these yummy cookies that I must share with you all after a few requests--these are from my dear friend Courtney, now residing in Omaha. I miss her more than I love the cookies, but the cookies are AMAZING. The recipe makes a TON and can always be halved. I usually freeze half the dough to make another batch when I feel like it.

The Famous Chocolate Cookies of Sin

2 cups butter
2 cups sugar
2 cups brown sugar
4 eggs
2 ts. vanilla
4 cups flour
5 cups oats--processed into a fine powder
(I use the Cuisinart for this)
1 ts. salt
2 ts. baking powder
2 ts. baking soda
24 oz. chocolate chips (I add less because I like them more dough-y)
1 8 oz. chocolate bar, melted

Cream butter and sugars.
Add eggs and vanilla.
Mix together with flour, oats, baking soda, baking powder, and salt.
Add chips, and melted chocolate bar.

Bake at 375 degrees for 6 minutes. Yep. Only 6 minutes. They will look raw, but then they sort of congeal into this amazing yummyness that you have to experience for yourself.

2004-08-03T15:31:00.000-07:00

Things I am thankful for today:

1) this most hilarious movie (you MUST cut and paste this URL to see what I mean as I have not figured out how to insert web links) which you will appreciate no matter what political side you lean towards

www.jibjab.com/?flash4=true

2) getting some freelance work with Chanel which will be extremely part time and great $$ for putting makeup on rich women

3) the best chocolate chip cookies ever baking in my oven right now (the secret is the melted ghiradelli bar that goes into the dough)--seriously, these are so good I am sure they are banned in some Christian communities for the reactions they evoke

4) Eva growling like a bear when she is happy with me

5) my bedroom ceiling fan that has helped me discover the joy of falling asleep with a breeze that isn't generated by the stale summer air

6) the fact that I have already thought of 5 previous thing to be happy about to get my mind off the 20 other things I feel crappy about--maybe I will make a "things that are lame in my life" list later, but right now, I need to go eat some chocolate chip cookies
6)

Where's MY Friday?

2004-07-30T08:54:00.000-07:00

No politics today. Phew. I am politicized out. Although, I will give a quick shout out to Dennis Miller for his witty and always acerbic comments on the convention and the Democratic party. As a newly converted Republican, he finally got something right.

As I caught a glimpse of Dan leaving for work today (I was in bed still with one eye barely open), I noticed he was wearing jeans. I asked him why and he responded, "It's Friday." In the corporate world, Fridays are the "casual" day, representing the end of a long week, the hard earned "dress down". He also reminded me he was meeting a friend for "happy hour" after work. Between a Friday and a happy hour, what's a girl to do?

Such a simple thing got me thinking this morning. I don't have a Friday. Sure I wear clothes fit for the homeless most of the week, but I don't have a "Friday" attitude. I don't have that one day that I look forward to, that holds the key to two days of play, church, etc... Each day seems as long and as routine as the next. Don't get me wrong, I have days where I thoroughly enjoy my time, my kids, friends, etc...but as a full-time mom right now, my days are very routine and similar. Each day blends into the other and seems the same as yesterday. Fridays used to hold anticipation of the weekend, and now I don't even notice them.

Today I attempt to begin an ode to Fridays. Friday, I love thee and celebrate thy end of the week-ness. Friday, I deserve you just as much as the corporate world of America, and thus, will have an unfermented glass of grape juice with my kids during happy hour, will throw on an extra crappy pair of sweatpants, and will fold laundry and clean the kitchen in the true spirit of the TGIF attitude.

Deja Vu and Dress Up

2004-07-29T12:10:00.000-07:00

WARNING: This blog contains the same disclaimer as yesterday's.

So, if John Edwards tells a bunch of Democrats that we will "seek out and destroy" Al Qaeda, it is reason to cheer like mad and elect a new president. If George W. tells America the same thing, soon after 3,500 Americans were brutally murdered on their own free soil , he is ignorant and a "war monger" and only wants to use violence to further his own politics. Has America become so dumbed down that if the message is the same and the messenger is different, it isn't deja vu? That is what the Dems are hoping for.

I thought it sweet that Edwards used to sweep the floor of a mill and that he worked his way through college. No one can argue with his work ethic, family commitment, and successful law career. However, many Americans have swept floors and worked through college, and they still aren't millionaires. I love how Kerry and Edwards are really trying hard to emphasize their "commonness," but let's face it, they are about as common as a meteorite hitting my ass.

The emphasis on John Kerry's "heroic" service in Vietnam (fab book coming out next week debunking his war stint...will think of name when it comes to my 5 hour of sleep brain) astounds me. If the Democrats are relying on the rationale that because Kerry served in Vietnam he is equipped to be our commander-in-chief, I would like to remind them that this thinking backfired for Republicans TWICE. Bushie Sr. in '92 lost to Clinton, thus his time in the service as a pilot in WWII made no difference to voters (or at least not enough to negate his "read my lips" debaucle). Again in '96, the Republican nominee, Bob Dole, practically lost his entire frickin' arm to the war, and again, voters decided Clinton needed to stay. The fact that Kerry has military service (reports vary, but I have read it was 4-6 months that he was over there, and his third injury was deemed "self-inflicted" by his military doctor) is great, and indeed, he served his country, but putting on fatigues and chasing down a guy in 'Nam to blow his brains out might qualify one better for therapy than for the presidency.

I know, I know, it is a stint to appeal to swing voters and to disenchanted Republicans so they might feel that Kerry is pro-military, a strong "leader," etc....but it is so interesting to me that the Democrats go wild for his stories of Vietnam when it was primarily the Dems who spit on the soldiers, protested the war, and politicized its needlessness for years.

Last night, I had to keep checking the bottom of my TV screen to make sure I was watching the "DEMOCRATIC convention". With all this talk of war, fighting Al Qaeda, and raising the military budget, I wondered if I wasn't watching the wrong convention. Sure, there were little snippets of the true party regarding the economy and taxes, but no mention of gay marriage, gay rights, abortion, and various other hot topics usually affecting the platform. If the Democrats can act like Republicans, talk like Republicans, look like Republicans (I read today that Kerry's stage aesthetic tonight was patterned after the old Republican Gentleman Clubs--marble, dark wood, etc...), does that make them Republicans? No, it just makes them the party who likes to play "dress up". Disguising themselves as Republicans may be the perfect strategy, but when the Republicans don't make equal asses of themselves (pun intended), I sure hope voters will see that a donkey dressed up like an elephant looks even more ridiculous than a big ol' fat elephant laying around naked. Or, as W. would probably say, "nekked."

I would rather ride a naked elephant around this election circus ring than a donkey dressed in drag.

Throwback

2004-07-28T10:54:00.000-07:00

WARNING: This blog may change your opinion of me--especially because I know my cool emerging church friends are mostly registered Democrats, however, despite my best efforts to keep politics off of my blog site, there is no way I can hold back my thoughts about watching the Democrats last night, in all of their self-deprecating glory. There is no point in delving into all of the reasons why I find their convention highly humorous, except when it comes to the idea of feminism and the speech given by Teresa Heinz Kerry, as well as the inherent inauthenticity of John Kerry's campaign. First, the wifey.... I cannot fault Mrs. Kerry for being a billionaire, as she married into money, and last week even told the press that she would give up all her money in order to have her husband back--which seems sweet, until you consider how her current husband who is using her money to try to win the presidency might feel about that statement. In fact, she acknowledged to her son last night that his father would be proud of him, and I asked myself, "Would his dead Republican senator of a father really be that proud if his money was being used to help win a Democratic presidency to a man now married to his wife?" All those issues aside, I saw her speech as a tragic throwback to a different era--an era long gone and conquered by the suffrage movement, Roe V. Wade, and an endless list of prominent female leaders in our country and around the world. A large portion of her speech was dedicated to expressing the fact that women have the right and freedom to their opinions and that their "voices" should not be silenced any longer. What the heck did Hillary Rodham Clinton prove during 8 years in the White House, and even now as a popular senator in New York? When the camera panned to Hillary during Mrs. Kerry's speech, I think I could see the death darts shooting from her eyes, and it was the first moment I actually wanted to reach out and give Mrs. Clinton a good ol' hug. Is this the kind of first lady that is going to appeal to women all around the country? I realize that voters aren't choosing a first lady, but a president, HOWEVER recent polls have indicated that the candidate's wife does affect voter preference. I am pro-life in most circumstances, however, I find it highly weird that Mrs. Kerry did not use her platform to reinforce the rights of women in this country that Democrats feel the GOP is continually threatening. I find it offensive that Mrs. Kerry thinks it is NOW time that women start having a voice. Has she been spending too much time at her Italian villa taking a ketchup bath? Oops, she just sold it to George Clooney for 7 million. Guess not. Before the election, it is better not to have a posh Italian villa compete with W's Texas ranch with stinky cows, snakes, and other unnecessary accoutrements. She implied through her word choice that she is somehow unique because she is "opinionated" and she hopes that one day women will all feel the freedom to be so. Maybe she was talking about the women in the middle east, because I think Hillary feels that freedom. Sandra Day O'Connor, Ruth Ginsberg, and Condoleeza Rice must all feel the same freedom. The list could go on and on, but really, who wants me to spell all those names and list them?

Perhaps it is because Mrs. Kerry wishes that we were able to live in a "democratic, free society"--another throwback for me. Shouldn't someone have debriefed her first? I was embarrassed for her when she said this, whatever her intention may have been. We DO live in a democratic, free society. Period. That is why her husband is able to run for president. Our country has been democratic since its inception. George W. Bush being president hasn't changed the fact that our country is free. It has changed the fact that millions of people in the middle east are able to experience some freedom for the first time in decades, or at least the hope of freedom.

It is not right wing propaganda that since Hussein's Iraqi dictatorship, over one million people have been needleesly slaughtered. I realize that in Rwanda and Sudan, the numbers are the same. I realize that we let these people die and did not send our troops. I realize that women, Christians, Muslims, Jews, the poor, and countless others around the world are slaughtered every day. I realize the tragedy of our limitations and that our political motivations affect many decisions we make.

What usually disturbs me about this political season every four years has been drastically different this year. I can easily get riled up over specifics. Usually, it is easy for parties to stick to issues and that is often how Americans decide who they will vote for. This year, it is interesting that there are no issues to get riled over, as Kerry is able to cater to everyone's personal opinions and convictions. And his wife is able to be freely opinionated too--such a revolutionary! John Kerry is pro-choice, and he also consistently votes in support of partial-birth abortion, and yet he is personally opposed to abortion because of his faith. He is now a Vietnam war hero, yet he burned his medals upon returning and trash-talked the war for years. He supported the war in Iraq, and then after the support-o-meter shifted across party lines and in the media, he changed his stance and now says we need to do it "right". He supports serious gun control, yet makes sure he is pictured with a nice shot rifle in his TV ads to show he is an avid "hunter." How can anyone not find something they agree with here? When he knows there are people who will not vote for a candidate for one specific issue (gay marriage, abortion, the war, etc...) he either avoids it or plays both sides to get the vote. A man of faith, a hunter, a fighter--an "everything but the kitchen sink candidate". The media describes him as the "people's candidate". John Kerry is the "people's candidate" as much as I am the next quarterback for the New York Giants.

Despite the Bush family money, nothing can compete with the husband of the Heinz heiress, or the boy who attended boarding school in Switzerland and whose teachers worried about his "excessive amounts of self-confidence". John Kerry is no more "Of the People" than George W. is "Of the Prairie" (I credit this observation to the Orlando Sentinel). Many people I know are Democrats because they feel the party best represents the lower class, the middle class, and the working man/woman. Thanks to Michael Moore, the world has gotten to see a skewed view of the Bush Administration and yet I also credit him with showing George W. to be a real person who still does yard work, makes silly comments, and is really just a cowboy. It is refreshing when people who have seen his movie have told me that it made Bush seem more accessible and authentic. (Check a multitude of sources debunking his claims about the links between the Bush family and Osama, as well as many sources who were shocked at the editing of the movie--as any consumer knows, editing can tell an infinite amount of stories).

Yes, George W. has a real problem with authenticity. Too much of it. He says the wrong thing sometimes. He hesitates when he speaks, searching for a word. He uses simplistic language with a southern drawl. He makes funny hand gestures. He looks perplexed. God forbid a president ever look any way other than confident when he wags his finger at the camera and says that he NEVER did a certain naughty thing with a certain naughty intern. Clinton was definitely convincing in his charisma and persona, and more accessible than Kerry. But, no one can compete with the unabashed humanness of W.

A fabulous editorial I read today in the Post has said of Edwards' anticipated speech tonight, "though he can speak down-home, he can't singlehandedly solve the Democrat's authenticity problem. You simply can't fake authenticity. Bill Clinton was a lot of things, not all so admirable, but he was the real deal when it came to The People. He didn't have to fake the schmooze or ask directions in the trailer park, while Kerry is the awkward white boy who whiffs on the high five. Americans love theater as much as anyone and expect a little choreography with their conventions. But they also possess a highly evolved sense of malarkey and know when something's phony. In the end, authentic anger may play better in Peoria than pretend populism. At least it's real."

I am called to authenticity as a woman, a person who wants to live in the way of Jesus, and as an American. That doesn't mean I agree with everything happening in our country and around the world right now. I never will. But, I respect a man who is authentically himself more than his competition and who doesn't have to be "everything but the kitchen sink" in order to get my very authentic vote in November. He just has to be W.

The Age of Innocence

2004-07-25T07:26:00.000-07:00

Lately I have been grieving over things that I beat myself up for. When many of my friends cannot conceive children or have had difficulty in that area and have been through so many seasons of sorrow over the barrenness in their families, I still struggle with the fact that I have been a mother since before I graduated from high school. Well, technically, I was almost 8 months pregnant at my high school graduation, (who knew a graduation gown doubled as a maternity dress?) but by then, baby cribs, layette gowns, and the "womanly art of breastfeeding" (this is the title of a real book, I kid you not) had pushed aside college scholarships, college parties, a semester abroad, and the last summer after high school spent in anticipation. It isn't that I look back and want all those things--in fact, I sometimes feel I was spared from a lot of the college experience I probably wouldn't have enjoyed. But, there is something about skipping a "stage" in life that society not only deems important, but that I had deemed important when I had dreams of teaching, writing, and exploring independence in a new place away from parents and the confines of high school life.

I was still able to go to a local college while my parents helped me with my new baby, while I lived in their basement as a pariah of Christianity for "engaging in premarital sexual activities". True Story: I actually had a relative suggest to my parents that if they were going to "let" me move back in with them, that I shouldn't be allowed to come upstairs and out of the basement unless it was an emergency. Does that reflect the kind of God I loved? Where was the father to the fatherless and the husband to the widowed? Did single mothers not fall into this category because they were technically never married, and thus, never widowed? Was I in some "exception" category to those that God mercifully loved? Most churches I tried wanted to shoehorn me into a specific area. I tried the "single" groups only to feel like a freak because now I was hanging around people who were in their 40's and not married and apparently socially retarded (Jimmy, can I borrow the word "retarded" here?). I tried parenting/mothering groups only to feel like a freak because I didn't have a husband, a minivan (Now I can relate!), perfect acrylic nails, and a myriad of other mysteries I didn't understand. I passed out fliers at my church expressing interest in starting a playgroup/mom group for anyone who wanted to be a part of that, and I got a call from the pastor's wife that there were only very few times that would be appropriate for such a group as most of the mothers in the church had husbands and family time was very important to them. I couldn't be expected to understand these things.

Usually, the word "freak" is applied to marginalized people who may wear goth makeup, be into strange hobbies or practices, or just all around be crazy. But, as a middle class, Caucasian, 18 year old mother, I felt like the word fit perfectly. Yet, nobody was telling me that God still loved me. Why do all the "ministries" only minister to people that fit into a tidy box of weirdness? Now, as age 30 isn't so far away for me, I wonder how much has changed. Sure, now I have the husband, the minivan, the suburban house, and 2 beautiful children. I make dinner with organic chicken from Whole Foods, I try to expand my mind with art, poetry, and dialogue, I like to think I am moving towards pursuing some of my academic and emotional aspirations (basically just being normal is the emotional aspiration). But, there are moments--usually at night--when I still feel like I am grieving over the age of innocence lost, when I remember the letter my high school teacher wrote for my top pick college recommendation that is sitting in a dusty file folder in a dean's office somewhere, when I look at the itinerary for a semester spent in England studying authors and places and even gravesites I only know from textbooks, when I think about what life would be like to take a nap whenever I want, meet with friends without having to think about what the consequences of time spent away would be, or what time my presence is needed again. I am not wallowing or feeling sorry for myself. I am not living in the past. Do not feel the need to say "Get over it, already!" at this point. I made my choices, and my life is rich in different ways because of it. However, lately, there is this void and ache that I cannot push away and I must face. I have had therapists tell me that it is a grief that I may always experience, the grief of being thrust into a place in life long before one is ready--the "usurpment" of youth, childhood, discovery. Yet, we are all constantly being "usurped". We are all thrust into death, change, and circumstance without much control. My grief is not comparable to my friend's who lost three babies in one sorrowful day, to my other friend, whose wife killed their two children, stabbing one 37 times, to my aunt and two cousins, whose loving and wonderful husband and father died of AIDS because he was on the wrong end of a tragic transfusion, to a family dealing with their young child's recent diagnosis of leukemia, and to countless others who have suffered as I have not. Their questions of God and His mercy seem more legitimate than mine, and yet I know theirs and mine all reach heaven with the same sobbing desperation.

This season of my life is spent wondering why I am in a time of grief. What is wrong with me that I cannot move past the longing, the void, and the desire for the same life, just a different timeline? Perhaps God is trying to show me that I would never have had the same life, with all it has offered me, had I done it a different way. Only He could know that my answers may never have come in a traditional dorm room, a guided tour of Westminster Abbey, or a marriage without kids at the "ideal" age between 26-36.

If I take the paradox of the gospel--in order to find my life I must lose it--then maybe I needed to lose that transitional decade into adulthood in order that I might find myself a different and redeemed woman. I once heard that the definition of the word "redeemed" meant to literally purchase at a price, as in slavery--to "buy" the freedom of someone else. The loss of the time in my life that I ache for the most was perhaps the ransom for my heart's freedom. Though others around me thought I should have stayed in the basement with my baby and a scarlet letter, I knew deep within that I was invited to a banquet where I was told, "Sit. Rest. Feast." And I wasn't alone anymore. I was seated with all the other freaks.

When it rains...

2004-07-24T10:00:00.000-07:00

The weather here is cold (50's) and rainy. It is a nice change, but it tends to lean me towards the melancholic and contemplative. It is also fitting that it would downpour at the end of a week with a lot of emotional storms.

My prayer for today is that God will grant me His patience, peace, and willingness to do what I need to in order to love my family well.

Sacrifice

2004-07-22T11:11:00.000-07:00

Yesterday when I was visiting with my friend Jill (I described it in my blog), her friend received a phone call. I could tell by her tone that it was serious and after she hung up the phone, she told me and Jill that one of her friend's sons, Mark, had just died. He was in Iraq and their base was attacked and he was burned badly. He lived, though, and was airlifted to Germany and Texas where for two weeks he was in a coma and struggling with massive burns on his body. They were going to amputate his legs and fingers, and before they did that, he died from the exposure and trauma to his body. He was the firstborn of three sons, only 22 years old. He was a screwed up kid, apparently, until he joined the Marines, and found a purpose in his life. Now, his purpose is over and he leaves two brothers and two parents left to understand his sacrifice. Whether or not people agree with what our country is doing in Iraq doesn't diminish the fact that people ARE fighting, dying, and trying to believe they are bringing good and freedom to a dark place. I struggle with the war for various reasons, but when I heard the story yesterday, it was the closest I had been to a real person dying a real death--not just a news report.

It made me think of how easily we use the word sacrifice, at least how easily I do. I will say "I sacrificed my workout today in order to take the kids to the pool or do errands" and then to hear about a real live person who flew halfway across the world to do something he believed in, only to be sacrificed at the altar of war and fire and evil, makes me think that in my life there isn't much sacrificing at all. That's not to say my role, my burdens, my wounds, are a cake walk, but when I think of Mark's family, it makes my trials for today fade into prayers for a weeping mother.

Copycat

2004-07-21T19:14:00.000-07:00

I am a little steamed that Dan is copying me and starting his own blog site. Of course, anyone can blog and that is the beauty of it, but at the same time, this was something that was all my own and something I was really excited about. There are few contributions I feel I can make in life right now, and if putting my thoughts out there electronically for all to see is one of them, then I kinda want to keep that to myself, which is sort of contradictory. Maybe I am just being ridiculous, but I don't know any other husband and wife team bloggers, and until I do, I will remain resolute in resenting Dan for trying to be a copycat. Tell me I should feel otherwise.

Old Friends

2004-07-21T13:07:00.000-07:00

I got to spend about 45 minutes this morning with a friend, Jill, who I have known for about 11 years who was in town briefly with her two kids. We met while we were both working at a health food store and still in high school. When I was pregnant with Eli and living in a S*&^ hole hand washing my undies in a bathtub and hanging them in the kitchen to dry, she was the friend who would stop by and bring me ice cream, maternity clothes, and any other comfort she perceived I needed. She drove me around in her Saab convertible and took me to get a manicure, drove me to the Goodwill to help me buy a rocking chair for my soon to be born child, threw me a baby shower and invited the few friends I had left, and came to the hospital soon after Eli was born to bring me gifts and encouragement after my long emotional and physical ordeal.

She sent me postcards and letters from her many trips to Israel over the next few years, brought me trinkets from her Semester at Sea while she traveled the world, and always made sure she kept in touch no matter where our lives took us. She is Jewish, and has recently explored Orthodox Judaism. She celebrates Shabbat every week with her family, does not drive anywhere or exert herself (even cooking counts!) on Saturdays, visits with her rabbi consistently, and bathes herself in the mik vah (I may have misspelled this and for a good visual, reference Charlotte in last season's Sex and the City storyline of her conversion to Judaism to marry her beloved Harry) to purify her sins. She is fascinating to me, as she is very in tune with God and how she feels called to live her life, but I also sense a burden within her as she constantly feels she is falling short. It has made me often think of the concept of grace in my own life, and how I often take it for granted. The fact that I don't have to follow a list of rules about modesty, sexuality (she follows Levitican laws and is deemed unclean for most of the month), eating, religious studies, and forgiveness. There is a definite beauty and mystery in the Torah and its history, and without it, my faith would be incredibly incomplete. In fact, one of my frustrations with contemporary Christianity is that it often ignores the Old Testament and its rich stories. It is the perfect set up for Jesus. But, Jill doesn't see it that way and is still waiting for the Messiah. She believes just as strongly that he hasn't come yet as I believe He came long ago. I am deeply thankful for her in my life, and I hope our friendship will be one of mutual love and learning for a long time to come.

Sleeping Beauty and the Rut of "Justs"

2004-07-20T15:48:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I think if I only had more sleep I would be a nicer person. Less moody. More loving. More patient. More willing to do things throughout my day that require more energy than I have. Though I intellectually know that being a mom of two kids requires endless energy, emotionally I feel like it is not enough. What am I doing to contribute to whirled peas? What am I doing to pursue people and relationships? What am I doing to pursue God in a new way, a different way than the "30 minute quiet time"/10 Step Program of the God I grew up with? There are moments when I think I am doing the things that matter, then there are more moments when I am at the grocery store trying to decide which brand of baby food is the best deal, or whether or not I can actually get by going through the express lane. I feel like I have multiple personalities sometimes. The wife/grocery shopper/house cleaner (subpar at this one)/meal maker, etc... and then I am this rock star (does playing the piano count?)/actress (Dan can attest to this--Oscar Award quality!)/runner/poet/dancer/chef/lover... the latter being the more exotic of the roles. So, I am going to stop trying to think of my life right now in the rut of "justs". I am "just" a stay at home mom. I have "just" finished 3 years of college. The list goes on, but I am going to adjust it so my first inclination is to eliminate the "justs". However, if I "just" had 9 -10 hours of sleep per night, I am sure it would be a lot easier.

I am reading a book right now given to me by a dear friend from Minnesota called _Do you think I'm Beautiful_? Some of it is trite, but the core message is solid. Basically, the author thinks that women have to ultimately answer that question throughout their lifetime, and it isn't merely a physical reference to outward looks. She writes a lot about how others treat girls/women that affect how they perceive their physical/emotional beauty...and I am reminded of the time that a boy in junior high brought me a bag of dog food over lunch in a packed cafeteria. In that moment, I sure as hell didn't think I was beautiful, and the wounds from that remained for some time. Braces, a bad haircut, and a really bad sense of fashion didn't help. But, now, 15 years later, I feel like I am finally becoming free from how others have wounded me in that way. The dog food has officially lost its power. Not really because of the book I am reading, but more because I am growing more comfortable in my skin the older I get. Though my skin has 213 stretch marks (true figure and counting), clogged pores and cellulite, my true skin is that of a feisty Italian girl who cares less and less what others think and more and more about what my Creator thinks about what He has made, and is STILL making. So, to Brett Combs, Dogboy, I say "Aarf!"

Ode to....

2004-07-19T14:44:00.000-07:00

Pablo Neruda is an amazing poet. I have loved him for years, but just today I stumbled across his poem "Ode to Soap". He has this talent of writing odes to ordinary things: soap, socks, a potato (a spud!), a hummingbird and making them sound exotic, sexy, and brilliant. How can a potato be sexy?

Spud,
sweet
matter,
dusty
almond,
the mother
beyond
did not cradle
dead metal.
There in the dark,
insular softness,
she did not prepare
copper and submerged
volcanoes,
or the blue severity
of manganese,
but rather, with her hand,
as though in a nest,
in the most tender wetness,
she deposited your balloons

There's more, but that captures the necessary essence. I love how he combines the bizarre and sensual, especially in his love poems. On the soundtrack to Il Postino, there are a ton of his poems being read by Hollywood's finest--Samuel L. Jackson' is cool. Definitely worth a trip to the local library.

My date with Dan Friday night went well, except for the fact that Dan wore the wrong shoes. This may seem like a shallow grievance, but when a woman goes to the effort to dress up, she dose not like to feel overly dressed compared to her partner, and when she looks down at her husband's shoes, she does not want to GASP at the sheer horror. We worked through it, but it was a rough 15 minutes in the car while I grilled him as to why he made such a poor fashion choice and how he could be seen in public with Magic 8 Ball Camper Shoes. If I could find a link to insert here, I would, but I cannot. Just picture ugly black leather lace ups that look like bowling shoes with a maroon 8 ball emblem sown on the side. In the end, I forgave him, and we had a lovely night of exotic Mexican/Latin food, an attempt to find live jazz in Denver and do some dancing (didn't happen), and overall great conversation with another couple out here.

On another note, I miss Minnesota. I miss my Porch buddies, my house in the burbs, Byerly's drive up grocery service, the lush greenery, my Northwest Athletic Club crazed aerobic teacher, and watching 10 neighborhood boys fight over their turn on my backyard trampoline. I miss fires at church, Wednesday night casseroles, the road rising up to meet me, my pastor wearing Birkenstocks, my pastor's wife wearing a Fat Albert blouse (it IS a blouse!), and every other eccentricity and wonder I came to experience during my time at 13th Ave. S. I miss Super Target. (Supposedly one is being built by my house out here, but I have yet to see the familiar red arrow mark). I miss Cafe 28's yummy pecan chicken salad (Javier, can you ship that?). I am going through some serious withdrawal/depression. I know over time I will feel more at home out here, but in 2 years, the land of bugs and lakes came to be a nice stop in my journey.

If I were to write an Ode to Minnesota...where would I begin?

Death to Smoochy, aka Romance

2004-07-15T21:14:00.000-07:00

Dan is taking me out for my birthday tomorrow night. My real birthday was yesterday, but since he was in Juarez trying to do the work of the Lord, we are celebrating it tomorrow. I made the mistake of telling him that I DEFINITELY did not want some kitschy Mexican crap from the market down there, but I fear that I was too late in my plea.

I am actually excited to spend time with him in a real, romantic way. This is unusual only because it has been so rare that we have gotten to do that recently. I have lamented about this void in my life before, but now I find myself actually wanting to shave my legs, wear an outfit other than sweat pants, and indulge in a little bit of good old fashioned nookie! Who says romance is dead once you get married?

In a CD jacket of all places, I was touched by the profundity of the contrast between darkness and light. The author was writing a description about a song, and he mentions that the purpose of darkness is for the light to seek it out. Without the darkness, the light wouldn't be anything valuable. It was really a lot more profound when you read it...will dig it out of my car and explain more later. It made me think about how I easily keep my thoughts on God, redemption, and grace to myself. I am so afraid at times of how I come across that I often stay a part of the darkness. Safety is so much easier than letting my little light shine. "This little light of mine..."

And, oh, honey, tomorrow on my date, I will be letting it shine, shine, shine!

Teletubbies, Marijuana, A Day in the Life...

2004-07-15T11:04:00.000-07:00

Eva loves watching Teletubbies. I don't think watching TV is great for developing children at any age, but I have to confess I let her watch it from time to time. Even I am transfixed by the show. The opening song, in particular, makes me happy to be alive and I want to reach through the TV screen and hug the creepy, yet cuddly, strange alien things named Dipsy, LaLaa, Tinky Winky (according to Jerry Falwell, this is the "gay" one because he is purple and has a triangle on his head--since when did gay people steal the market on colors, shapes and rainbows? They are still available to others, in my opinion).

Dan called from the border this morning. Two kids on their mission trip smuggled marijuana over the border and then back again. They even had the foresight to stash some in a bush near a hotel in New Mexico on the way down, knowing they would revisit that same bush on the way back. I am just thankful that I am not trying to find a Mexican attorney for my husband right now and having to think about how I will support my family by blogging and watching Teletubbies. Dan said all the kids were really upset and were crying, praying, hugging, and talking about the whole thing. I am hoping it will be a vehicle in the kids' lives to somehow facilitate a deeper dialogue about the issues they face.

It made me think about how as adults we are trained for things to be "no big deal" and besides a death, if I reacted like that, I would be perceived as overreacting, something I am accused of often. I wish I would feel more open about weeping loudly, laughing so hard I peed my pants (I do pee when I do jumping jacks sometimes), or just expressing myself in a way that doesn't think about whether I will be perceived as looney. I grew up in a home where extreme emotion of any kind was definitely not okay, and it is strange that I am such an expressive person in spite of that, but I shame myself for it, and today, my goal is to start embracing my emotions rather than cower because of them.

My "premiere" posting

2004-07-14T19:14:00.000-07:00

In the spirit of trying to stay in touch with those I care deeply about (here's a shout out to Minnesotans) and in an effort to actually begin writing more (New Year's Resolution for every year since I learned how to write), I am starting my own blog page. I am now a Blogarooni. Blogster. Blogmeister. Blogarino.

I don't know if my life qualifies as interesting enough to be a blogger, but then again, I also think my life is so complicated that it is amazing I am not admitted into the North Oaks Psychiatric Hospital. I just made that up, but if I WERE to be admitted, here is a list of reasons why, and I am just going to lay it all out there right away:

1) I grew up with a highly dysfunctional family--controlling mother, abusive father, lack of nurturing all around.

2) My best friend's Mom stabbed her to death and then killed her sister. This was my initiation into the wide world of grieving. Heavy abandonment issues stem from this.

3) I ran away from home multiple times at 17, got pregnant, my parents emancipated me (were legally NOT my parents anymore since I was a minor) and right before I turned 18, I moved back home, and then had a baby. (This is NOT a recommended time frame for most people)

4) Was consumed with the lack of control in my life and developed anorexia, which was a struggle for the better part of 4 years. Hamburgers still scare me, but more for e.coli reasons than fat content.

NOW, after sharing all of that, if you still want to be my friend and blog-reader, here are some high points of my life:

1) Was a Spelling Bee Champion during my elementary years. I relate best to the fear and trembling each year televised on ESPN during the Scripps Howard National Bee.

2) I wrote a book in the 6th grade. It is a fantasy-genre largely inspired by the Chronicles of Narnia. It is REEEALLY lame, but it is still close to 200 pages, so I consider that noteworthy.

3)I won a national speech contest in high school and actually got paid $75. That is the best thing I have ever won in my entire life--with the exception of a new pair of aerobic shoes because of a drawing held at my local gym.

4) I am the mother of two of the best kids around--Eli David and Eva Grace. Both their names have Hebrew derivates meaning "God" and "Life" and from that I have decided that they are the most tangible taste of God in my life.

5) Daniel James Stratford (or Danny J who provides the rap for this posse G) is my husband, and for that, I am most thankful.

6) Sometimes when nobody is around and I am in the kitchen cooking, I like to pretend I am the host of a cooking show.