Awake My Soul

A year and a half ago when I purchased Phillips, Craig & Dean's "Let the Worshippers Arise" CD, the title track seemed to be the family favorite, particularly Kathryn's. She would ask for it by name on every trip we took in the van for what seemed like months, and would sing along in typical two-year old fashion, muttering almost unintelligibly and then chiming in confidently on approximately the last word of every stanza. "Blah blah blah blah...RISE...blah blah SING...blah blah blah ALLLL...blah blah KING!"

Recently said CD has been resurrected from our collection and she has found a new favorite, Track 8, Awake My Soul. It has been about three weeks that we have been listening to it almost continuously in the van. If I happen to turn it down so that my calm voice of instruction might be heard ever so briefly (how dare I?), she will shout "No, all the way up!" and as soon as the accompaniment begins to fade even slightly near the end or the singing ceases for a moment between verses, she will shout "Again, again!"

She calls it "I'm Closin' My Eyes" and she knows quite a few of the real lyrics, though there are a number of interesting lyrics according to Kathryn peppered throughout. I will share the real lyrics because they really are quite powerful and the song is a favorite of mine as well:

When I close my eyes
I can see your glory
When I raise my hands
I can touch your face

When I bow my knees
I stand before you
Then Christ is formed me

Awake my soul
Prepare an entrance for your glory
And let my heart become a throne for you to dwell
And when I need your Holy Spirit more than life itself
Then Christ is formed in me

When I lose myself
I reflect your image
When I break my will
Then I am whole

When I give my all
I find life everlasting
Then Christ is formed in me

Awake my soul!

Awake my soul
Prepare an entrance for your glory
And let my heart become a throne for you to dwell
And when I need your Holy Spirit more than life itself
Then Christ is formed in me

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I share this not to boast of the righteousness of my three year old, nor of her righteous upbringing. If anything I am boasting of her tenderness DESPITE her upbringing. =) It blesses my soul to see her (and my other children) loving and learning the words to songs that will stay with her for life. Words that convey truth, not lies...words of hope, not despair, not jealousy, not lack of contentment...NOT CRAP!

Due to my early obsession with not truthful music, I have the lyrics of Top 40 hits from 1981 to present clanging around in my head on an almost daily basis. I don't consciously meditate on them, but when I hear the music of a song I haven't heard in 20+ years I can sing nearly every word without missing a beat. Not to over-spiritualize, I am not trying to argue for or against anything, just bearing witness to the power of music and the mind's ability to process and store words set to music. Not that I have been irreparably damaged by these words, but I recognize and at times am grieved that at the very least this useless information is taking up valuable space on my mental hard drive which could certainly be utilized for some better purpose.

Plus also, lest anyone think I am trying to paint too rosy a picture of my offspring, here is a story to keep a balanced view...A couple weeks ago, Julia and Kathryn were quarrelling fiercely upon Julia's arrival home from school. In the midst of the conflict, she piously asked Kathryn what she thought Jesus would do to resolve the matter at hand. Kathryn snappily replied, "I think Jesus would punch YOU right in the HEAD!"

To God be the glory!

Bumper Sticker Intelligence

Living near what was once the thriving automobile capital of the world, it is not surprising to see the American pride in buying American automobiles. Our life and livelihood have depended on that loyalty for generations. It is has been the basis of both our economy and our identity as a state. When the "Big Three" suffer, we all suffer...when they flourish (and when was that??), we all would flourish.

Anyway.

Least where I come from, you just don't see too many foreign makes on the road. We're all on the same team when it comes to buying American CARS or even vans, but NOT trucks. Oh no! Owners of trucks want the world to know why their brand of choice is superior to all others, especially other American made trucks, and it seems that the only effective medium for communicating this heartfelt conviction is either on the back window or back bumper of....oh let's just say 3 out 5 trucks you see on the road on a given day. You can't drive from here to town without encountering at least one little-boy-peeing-on-perceived- underdog-truck-brand-logo sticker, or one of the close runners up: "FORD-Fixed Or Repaired Daily" or "I'd rather push a Ford than drive a Chevy" or "Dodge: Mayor of Truckville".

But the peeing boy seems to say it best. From anti-gunners to the NRA, from Nixon to Bush to Clinton, from "mean people" to people who don't buy American, he pees on anything the driver doesn't like while the rest of the world is forced to watch or avert their collective eyes. Today I saw the same boy going at it again on the back of a Chevy. But he wasn't going ON anything...

It simply read "D - - n Wind". =)

Now there's one I'd like to own, I thought. So I snapped one up right quick on my way home and mounted it on the back of my American made minivan right smack betwixt my "My kid beat up your honor student at Podunk Elementary" and "Charlton Heston is MY president" stickers.

No, really I didn't. I didn't buy it and I have no stickers on my van. It is a Pontiac, but it was assembled in Canada.

Thursday's Epiphanies

• Discovering that Andrew now likes pineapple.
• Discovereing that Julia now likes raisins.
• Discovering that I had slept 7 1/2 consecutive hours the night before with no visits to the water closet.
  
• Discovering that cleaning the interior of the minivan more than 2 times a year really IS a good thing.
• Discovering that upgrading from the 3 dates per year plan really IS good for the marriage.

Wheew! I wonder what wonders this day will bring forth!

Kathrynisms

We, as mothers, are always going to write these things down. But where would we write them, IF we actually were able to remember them long enough to record them in a readable format?! On our blogs, of course...

Yesterday after we got home from church as I was making lunch, I asked Kathryn what she learned in Sunday School. Her reply: "About how the tiger will lie with the lamb".

Today in the van driving home from town, she asked if she could have fruit snacks when we got home. She asked repeatedly about what kind we had and then had me repeat each answer AGAIN. I can't tell if she is truly having difficulty hearing or if she is just exercising her ability to exasperate me frequently, but it seems like I need to plan on saying whatever I need to say no fewer than three times. For emphasis, for clarity, or simply for the sake of vain repetition
...I dunno. Anyway, I said we had Cinderella fruit snacks at home. "What?" she asked. Realizing that I had pronounced "snacks" with an extra harsh midwestern "a" sound, and knowing I would surely have the opportunity to say it again in the foreseeable future, I tried my best to tone it down when I repeated the answer one more time. A few moments of silence from the backseat passed before she said, "No, Mama, we don't say 'snocks', we say 'snaaaaacks'!"

Finally, an interesting word has been created in our household and is becoming very popular in use. Kathryn is the coiner, "sharaboosa" is the word. I can't say for certain when it came into existence, but it is a most versatile piece of vocabulary. It can be used interchangeably as an expletive or a term of endearment, depending on inflection and context, of course. Snarled through clenched teeth as a prelude to an utter meltdown, it conveys the meaning of something similar to "leave me alone, you big poo poo head". But whispered through petal soft little lips with arms wrapped tightly around my neck, "Mama, you are my little sharaboosa!" well it just melts my heart...whatever it means!

911...What's your Emergency?!

So it was a beautiful, classic, cool, crisp fall morning. I drove the kids to school and then returned home with Kathryn, revelling in the peace that comes with having only one child home with no siblings to fight with. Andrew went back to school yesterday after being off all last week, but I worked yesterday, so I hadn't been home alone with just one child for the day in over a week. It was nice.

I did my morning tidying and then settled in to a mountain of cutting out of patterns and fabric I had waiting for me after way over-indulging myself two days in a row at JoAnn Fabrics. After going at it for half an hour, I stood from the living room floor to stretch and move around a little before tackling the next pattern.

I happened to glance out the front window to behold the beauty of the day once more, when I was startled out of my mind by what I saw staring back at me. Eleven horses were standing in and about my driveway turnaround as if it were nothing out of the ordinary at all..."This is what we always do on the last Tuesday morning of every month!"

I ran for my camera. By the time I came back, they were making their way down the driveway toward the road. As you can see by the second photo, their mothers had trained them well to be very cautious and to look both ways before stepping out into and stopping traffic. A semi sat at a standstill for a couple of minutes while they meandered along before veering off onto a private drive.

I called 911 straightaway. And the dispatcher didn't even laugh, bless his heart. He said Animal Control would be there momentarily.

I was much calmer than the last time I called 911 when two rollover accidents happened within minutes of each other in front of my house last March. The second one left a man trapped under water while the victims of the first accident struggled to free him as I looked on screaming and nearly hyperventilating into the phone myself. They did manage to get him out and brought him into my house until the ambulance arrived. He ended up being okay.

Who even needs television when you are surrounded with this kind of drama right in the middle of nowhere?

Ridin' Dirty

Today while at JoAnn Fabrics I saw a sweetish looking elderly lady. I can't be certain of her age, but I am thinking she was at least 150 years old. Far too old to be able to even hear a cell phone ringing, much less to own one, much less to know what button to press to answer it, and much MUCH less to have a racy ringtone.

I was minding my own business browsing the single-fold bias tape when I heard a familiar tune jingling nearby, plain as day a naughty-ish rap/hip hop song called Ridin', followed by a shaky "Hello".

I smiled to myself.

"They see me rollin'...They hatin'...Patrollin' and tryna catch me ridin' dirty...My music's so loud...I'm swangin'...They hopin' that they gon' catch me ridin' dirty..."

FYI: Wikipedia defines "riding dirty" as: Participating in illegal activity while in a motor vehicle, which could include:

* Driving a vehicle that contains contraband
* Driving a vehicle without a license
* Driving a vehicle without the proper paperwork mandated by that
state
* Driving a stolen motor vehicle
* Being a passenger during any of these situations

I caught that little stinker red-handed, ridin' dirty if ever there were a dirty rider in all of the JoAnn Fabrics Friday Morning 40% Off Sale.

Dirrrrr-tay!

Hand, Foot, and Mouth Disease

It is REAL and Andrew has it!

And this breaks another week's silence on my blog.

Until this week, whenever I heard that disease mentioned, I mistakenly assumed it was some kind of joke about sticking one's foot in one's mouth too frequently or something.

Oh no, not so! For those of you not in the know, it is a moderately contagious viral infection that causes fever, and blisters in the mouth and on the hands and feet.

Only after he had complained of extremely painful chancre sores for 3 days and not eaten for almost one, did I bother to even look in his mouth. Oh MAN! He had more than 10 blisters. I felt terrible, of course, and took him to the doctor the next morning to confirm the diagnosis. Yep, that was it. He has been off school the rest of the week with Julia delivering his homework on a daily basis.

Which reminds me...It stinks to be wrong. Wrong to have not have taken my darling son's complaints seriously sooner. Wrong to have done something so DUMB again...read on.

Julia has been riding the bus home without Andrew this week, obviously. Today I hadn't gone anywhere all day so I hadn't put the garage door up and didn't happen to realize it until I heard the bus take off after not dropping her off. Immediately I knew and dashed for the door hoping she might catch sight of me and stop. But NO, not this bus driver. She means biz-nass and takes her job very seriously. If the door ain't up, the child don't get off the bus and that's all there is to it. Unfortunately I already had occasion to learn this lesson, LAST year...umm, a couple of times. In my defense one of those times she was clearly in the wrong, but she still called and left a threatening message on my voicemail reminding me of her absolute and supreme authority as a licensed bus driver to make my life miserable pretty much till Jesus comes back. But this time I knew I was wrong and my second-born child was trapped on a runaway bus with a mean bus driver who didn't care much for her mother...I had to save her.

I called the transportation department and got their voicemail. I stated that I was in fact home and needed to know where I might be able to retrieve my daughter. I called the school operator and got their voicemail. Voicemail was not going to save her, but I left the same message anyway before calling the elementary school and reaching a real person, who quick as a wink radioed the bus garage, who radioed the bus driver, who named a meeting place within a mile from my house. I left my diseased boy in charge of my loves-to-be-naked-always 3 year old and sped away to fetch the medium sized girl.

I approached the bus sheepishly, still trying to decide what tactic to take with her given our history. As she whipped the door open scowling down from her perch on high, I saw her draw in a breath as if in an attempt to sustain herself for the next 5 minutes in which she would proceed to verbally spank me AGAIN. Dangit! At that moment, I asked "WWJD?"...no, I didn't really, but I did decide to be humble and not cocky. And to be Christ-like, not Janelle-like. And doggone it, it worked! I even thanked her for not letting Julia off at her stop. And she was almost what some might call "nice" in response as she stated the importance of this policy and her high calling to enforce it.

When I returned home, naked girl was still naked...bending over sweeping up Pringle crumbs that she had spilled on the kitchen floor whilst I was away for those 4 minutes.

Another day in the life of a semi-sorta-stay-at-home mom.

First Day of School

The kids finally started school on Monday after a longgg summer break. Due to the unfinished building projects going on at all three schools in the district, the administration extended the school by 10 minutes from January-May of last school year which apparently gave them enough hours/days logged to allow them to get out May 23rd and not return until September 11th. It actually was very nice up until the last few days. They were ready. I was ready!

An interesting fact is that I live in the same school district as I did when I was growing up. This has been both a positive and a negative thing. It is neat to look at my old world through the eyes of an adult. Memories flood back each time I enter the building and it smells exactly the same, or when I walk by the kitchen and I can just feel the giddy of excitement of realizing that it is Pizza Day. But being there also brings back insecurities of yore and has a way of calling to mind the burdens I carried as a child. And seeing that one mean teacher still elicits the same response. Anyway. Until this year, almost nothing had changed in the building structurally. A surprisingly high number of the same teachers remain, including two of my special favorites whom Andrew has had the privilege of learning from as well.

Part of what prompted me to resurrect this otherwise-dead-and-gone photo in the post below is that Andrew has the same homeroom teacher this year as I had for 6th grade science. When I introduced myself on the first day of school using my maiden name she interrupted me and said she knew it was me right away because of my "beautiful EYES"! She said she remembered them well...why?...because they are so BEAUTIFUL! I was dying! I remembered well how I looked in 6th grade. Instantly this photo came to mind, as I tried hard to stifle my laughter. Precious! I don't really have many, if any, memories of her at all--good or bad--just that she said "particular" a heck of a lot. And she still does! I sat in for a while one day this week. So far I am thoroughly impressed with her. The kids have day planners and clipboards...my kind of teacher. Andrew is just thrilled to have a locker for the first time, and I am thrilled that this should minimize the risk of any head lice hitching a ride to our house this winter.

I'll save the rundown on Julia's first week for another post since this is getting long.

Guess Who?

Yes, folks, that IS a mullet...an El Camino, if you will...
business in the front, party in the back!
The year was 1984. The girl was fixing to turn 11.
She was torn between the world of prep and punk and was convinced
that IF her parents would only permit her to wear parachute slacks,
she would stand a fighting chance at singing
backup vocals for Van Halen.

Here's Your Sign

I couldn't resist buying this sign for my office at work.

Red 'n' Pink

K: Same toys different day!
(She is actually supposed to be the red and pink subject.)

J: Neopets, Kacheek and Lupe.


A: Lava Lamp and Pinewood Derby Winners.



My favorite $3 garage sale purse with matching pink key fob and my favorite pink coffee mug.

Green Tuesdee

For those of you wondering what the heck I am doing with all these photos, I am participating in Color Week at the invitation of Liane. You take a picture featuring a different color for each day of the week.

Monday - Yellow
Tuesday - Green
Wednesday - Red or Pink
Thursday - Blue
Friday - Black or White

Following are our amateur attempts. The kids are really enjoying it. K even made a contribution today. Here they are...

J: A favorite photo of her and one her best friends, Ella.

A: Self-explanatory.

K: A view from her level in her world.

My own: I love green!

The End.

Yeller

Here are the color contributions from our corner of the world.

Good thing for color week because I almost forgot my bathroom was even yellow.

A's collection of yellow stuff in his room.

J's impression of yellow lampshade.

Got Water?

Recently I have been on a big water drinking kick and have been spotted sporting this gargantuan insulated mug of high quality H2O nearly everywhere I go. It's size alone invites comments aplenty from passersby, but so do the enlightening facts plastered all over the outside. In addition to those which can be seen in the photo, here are a few others:

* Warning: Water is energizing and refreshing. It may give you the urge to get off the couch. (Ya think? It gives me the urge to find the nearest bathroom quick fast in a hurry.)

* You should drink at least 8 glasses of water a day. (Yeah, 8 glasses if you weigh 128 lbs...CHA!)

* A mere two percent drop in body water can trigger fuzzy short-term memory, trouble with basic math problems, and difficulty focusing. (Wow, that's usually when I run out for a coffee which actually causes further dehydration. And all this time I thought I had ADD.)

* Water regulates the temperature of the human body, carries oxygen to cells, cushions joints, protects organs and tissues, and removes waste.

So that's that.

Darn UPS

One day last week, upon returning home from work, I was delighted to discover I had received a package. A decent sized and somewhat heavy rectangular box of a package. Interesting. I wasn't even expecting anything. But upon closer examination, I realized I didn't so much recognize the return address from Diane in California. And an even closer look revealed that it was not even addressed to ME, but rather to a person who had a not-so-very-similar name. Like if you added a letter and crossed the L's in my name. Yes, Jeanette J. And the street address was not even close to mine other than that both streets began with an M. The original address had been crossed out and a new label printed and placed next to it with my name and address. When I peeled back the label, I saw someone with 1st grader-ish looking handwriting had written "Don't live here, try Janelle J. at..."

I was SO irritated with the dadgum USPS. They are notoriously lazy and sloppy, and lack an eye for accuracy and detail at our local office. It is almost frightening, if not infuriating.

After nearly a week of looking at it on the counter and preparing my return speech, I finally made it to the post office to give them what FOR!

When I entered, nobody was at the counter. I could hear them diligently working just out of sight. The door made its gong sound alerting them to my presence, but not one of them stopped what they were doing to greet me, much less HELP me. I quickly revised my original speech to include the most recent offenses as I waited and waited and my fury grew with each passing second.

As I stood ready to attack, I just happened to look down and see at the bottom of the label...guess what...a UPS logo...and oh, what is this?...a UPS Ground Tracking #?..nowhere on the box did it even say USPS.

My package and I quickly, quietly, and HUMBLY exited the building without incident.

But now what the heck do I do with it?

I feel like Tom Hanks in Castaway. Maybe I should take a trip to California to return it to the sender in person. I think I'll take it to the local UPS store today.

Now THAT thar is more interesting than meatloaf.

A Meatloaf Kind of a Day

Yeah, you pretty much know it is time to consider retiring your blog when all you can think to post after over a week of nothingness is your favorite meatloaf recipe. Wild times at the J house. But it is so yummy, if you are of the meatloaf persuasion, that is.

So here she is...

Best-Ever Meatloaf

2 eggs
2/3 c. milk
3 slices bread, torn in pieces
1/2 c. onion, chopped
1/2 c. carrot, grated
1 c. cheddar or Mozzarella cheese, shredded
1 T. fresh or 1 t. dried parsley
1 t. basil
1 t. salt
1 t. pepper
1 1/2 lbs. ground beast

Topping:
1/2 c. tomato sauce
1/2 c. brown sugar
1 t. dry mustard

Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 350*
2. In large bowl beat eggs. Add milk and bread; let stand until liquid is absorbed.
3. Stir in onion, carrots, cheese, and seasonings. Add beef; mix well (using hands to mix).
4. In shallow baking pan shape mixture into loaf. Bake 45 minutes.
5. Meanwhile, combine topping ingredients. Spoon some over meatloaf. Bake 30 minutes longer, occasionally adding topping. Let stand 10 minutes befor serving. Serves 6.

And lest I be accused of plagiarism, this recipe was taken from Beyond Macaroni and Cheese edited by Mary Beth Lagerborg and Karen J. Parks.

A New Post for the Heckler Among Us

If you give a Mom a muffin,
She'll want a cup of coffee to go with it.
She'll pour herself some.
The coffee will get spilled by her three year old.
She'll wipe it up.

Wiping the floor, she will find some dirty socks.
She'll remember she has to do some laundry.
When she puts the laundry in the washer,
She'll trip over some snow boots and bump into the freezer.
Bumping into the freezer will remind her she has to plan dinner for tonight.

She will get out a pound of hamburger.
She will look for her cookbook (101 Things to Make with a Pound of Hamburger).
The cookbook is sitting under a pile of mail.
She will see the phone bill which is due tomorrow.
She will look for her checkbook.

The checkbook is in her purse that is being dumped out by her two year old.
She'll smell something funny.
She'll change the two year old.
While she is changing the two year old the phone will ring.
Her four year old will answer it and hang up.

She remembers that she wants to phone a friend to come for coffee on Friday.
Thinking of coffee will remind her that she was going to have a cup.
She will pour herself some.

And chances are......
If she has a cup of coffee......
Her kids will have eaten the muffin that went with it.

Imagine my horror...

So I took the van into the dealership this morning. The highest setting on the heating/AC blower wasn't working. We also were in need of new tires all the way around and I decided to do it today while I was already giving up a morning to take it in.

The dealership isn't the most conveniently located, but I am willing to drive quite out of my way to be accommodated by this delightful service department. Cliff and Steve should win an award for their outstanding ability to take care of their customers while taking so DANG much of their money, and still having them leave with smiles on their faces. They usually make special arrangements for "courtesy transportation" for me and roll out the red carpet for the kids: donuts, popcorn, soda...one day they even gave us some birthday cake of one of the employees. Today was no exception. After checking in and getting situated in the kid-friendly waiting area equipped with playhouse and television, I found myself an interesting read in the latest issue of People magazine. Cliff had brought me a couple of price quotes and had me OK a couple things. A short while later as I was returning from the restroom, I could see him approaching me with a very concerned look on his face. He discreetly slipped me this note...

He said he wrote it because he didn't know if it would upset the children to hear it. How very thoughtful of him to concerned about the children. I love Cliff.

The thing is I already knew we had a mouse problem back in the winter and suspected there was a nest, but I never could find it. One Sunday in January on our way home from church I happened to notice some randomly placed M&Ms on the floor between Jeff's seat and mine. I thought it was odd since I knew we hadn't eaten any in the van in quite some time. Upon further investigation I found another and another and another which led me to a bag of leftover goodies from A's Christmas gingerbread making project. Assuming the bag had just inadvertently been left open, I picked it up to re-seal it and all of the remaining treats fell out through a carefully chewed hole in the bottom of the bag.

When we got home I thoroughly scoured the van for evidence of any furry, chewing friends who might be lurking about. And evidence I did find...everywhere...turds, shredded paper and grocery bags and wrappers, and remnants of the green indoor/outdoor carpet we had on our landing in the garage...from the glovebox to the storage compartment in the back underneath the seats.

I spent an hour and a half that afternoon cleaning the van and then had Jeff set a couple of traps. The next morning the bait had been snatched and no "mouses" had been trapped. Determined to face my fears and reclaim my van as my own, I set off for the grocery store to buy several "sticky" traps. I strategically placed them all around the van, specifically targeting the areas I imagined I might like to travel if I were a mouse trapped in a van. I checked them every hour on the hour throughout the day and was no less disappointed each time I found nothing again...untilllll...about 2pm I went out and lifted up J's carseat to see a tiny, but verrrry scaaaaary nonetheless, brown mouse frantically trying to scurry away with the trap in tow. Only one foot and his tail were trapped.

What happened next is but a blur, but summoning all of my girly-scared-to-death-of-mice courage, I quick as a cat donned my rubber kitchen gloves and grabbed two plastic grocery bags. I placed my gloved hand inside one of the bags and used it as an extra protective barrier to pick up the mouse and place it inside the other bag, and then tied it up snugly. With my 5 year old daughter looking on, and cheering me on I might add, I placed it behind my van tire and backed over it. And then pulled forward it again, of course, just for good measure. Yup, it was dead. And then I put it in the trash. My heart was racing as if I had just escaped being EATEN by a mouse and my legs were still like Jell-O hours later.

Just call me Braveheart.

I enjoyed a cool ride home on my cool new wheels today knowing they were gone for good...until next winter...

(Stay tuned for a prequel to this mouse tale to be entitled "Mouse in the House".)

No Forks!

So I didn't stick a fork in my eye after all.

And I don't HATE Annie. I was just so stinkin' sick of hearing it in the background as K, J, and I all had simultaneous meltdowns that afternoon. It would have taken waaaaaaay too much energy to explain it right at that moment (though it would have made a killer blog post) so I punched Annie instead. I am sorry, Annie. I am sorry, Daddy Warbucks. We love you, Miss Hannigan!

Later that same afternoon I flopped down on my bed utterly exhausted for approximately 47 seconds of a nap before I was notified that K was "cooling her hair down" with toilet water. Good times! I was really reaching for the fork by that time.

We had VBS last week, FIESTA: Where Kids are FIRED UP about Jesus! It was a great curriculum. This was my second year as the Station Leader for Chadder's Desert Drive-In Theater which meant I had a new crew of 15-40 kids coming in my theater every 20 minutes for 2 hours. I would show a short segment of the feature presentation and then TRY to facilitate small group discussion while emphasizing/illustrating the Bible Point of the day and not forgetting to scream "VIVA!" and throw my arms up in a V every time I either said it or heard it spoken. Yeeeeah...it was pretty challenging, but I much prefer that role to being solely resposible for one group of 5-10 and escorting them throughout their day's activities. I had a couple great helpers and some super kids.

I really did enjoy it. Imagine, joy in serving Jesus? Joy in serving...others? How very foreign...who knew? And when else can you Cha-Cha and Mambo at church? And when else can you answer such deep spiritual questions as, "Mrs. Janelle, if I attached a message to God to this balloon and let it go, do you think He would answer me?" Umm, yeah...no, no I do not. And when else can you be in the middle of such RICH interaction with so many interesting little characters? Another tender soul brought to my attention his suspicion that I had worn the same shorts the day before. While another boy cautioned me that wearing flip-flops everyday was probably not in the best interest of my feet..."because you have ALL that WEIGHT on them with no support for your back." God bless. And yet another boy attempted to give me a detailed explanation for why his medical condition prohibited him from "tip toe-ing" after I had instructed him to do so. It was good fun!

Friday afternoon after the Fiesta festivities had concluded, we left for one of my favorite destinations anywhere and that would be our friend's parents' cabin about 3 hours "up north" of these here parts. It is not so much a cabin, but more of a nice 4 bedroom house in the middle of 340 heavily wooded acres complete with 3 new four-wheelers, two full sized for adults and one mini for the kids, and seemingly endless winding and hilly trails to explore. The house has running water, is powered by a generator, and is equipped with most modern conveniences except for central air. It even has its own satellite for improved cell phone reception. We stayed 2 nights with our friends and their 3 children, and another couple and their 3 children. So yes, that made 6 adults and 9 children under one roof. Surprisingly, it was very peaceful with not so much as a single squabble to settle all weekend. We did a lot of trail riding, ate lots of good food, and learned how to play a new game. The kids and I won't go back again till next summer, but Jeff will hunt there a couple weekends this fall. (See new photos on Webshots.)

Loud or Quiet?

No, really, I think I'd prefer the Quiet Township Cemetery
if given the choice, but thanks for asking.