Another thought on #. When I hear the word "hash" I think of corned beef and hash. A not so wonderful dish my Grandmama Dolly liked to eat. I ate it.
It was okay.
But not as good as her apple pie.
#ipreferanapplepiethankyouverymuch.
Also, "hash" brings to mind marijuana. Or cannabis. Whatever you will...
#thatisdopey
Or perhaps the phrase, "We still need to hash out the details."
#shallwechat
But hashtag?
And speaking of #, why did it become the "pound sign?" Why was it ever added to the phone? What was the point?
I'm pretty sure the automated messages will soon sound like this:
Press 1 for English.
El primo dos para Espanol.
For twitterish press hashtag for any menu consisting of 140 characters or less.
#icrackmeup
Showing posts with label conversations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label conversations. Show all posts
Monday, February 11, 2013
Saturday, February 9, 2013
#sorryyoumadeabaddecision
"Sorry you made a bad decision."
It's a snarky little bit of nastiness I like to toss out to Brent at every opportunity.
And, today my own snarkiness came up and bit me on the butt...
(Pardon the language Gentle Reader.)
So 2012 was a rough year. Emotionally, financially, blah-bi-dee-blah-blah...
Yet, it was a great year because my kids were healthy, we had a roof over our head, we never went without food, shelter, clothing, whatever...
However we DID have a foundation repair (ouch), a transmission rebuilt, a water pump go out on my car, a new septic system installed, and Brent had a few fender benders that resulted in unexpected expenses.
This year, we are determined to do better. Stick to our budget, have more fun, get in better shape, clip more coupons...
Rules, rules, rules.
#rulesarestupid
So, with an enthusiastic heart, I went to the bank last Friday, and got the cash for the month.
Saturday we decided to do yard work. And we decided that we simply MUST have pre-emergent for the yard. After all, our less cash conservative neighbors were forking out the big bucks to have lawn services treat their yards....
We drove to a local nursery to buy our OWN pre emergent to save a buck or two.
Only, there was no cash allotted for an impulsive yard care buy. Surely we could just be more careful with our money, perhaps I could clip those coupons I've been stashing in my box for the last month, and it would all balance out!
#itwillallworkout
#letsnotmentionastopatajunkstoreonthewayhome
Fast forward to THIS Friday. A mere week into the month.
I decided to run to the store. We had no plastic wrap.
Which, obviously led to me buying Dr. Pepper, "Hotel Transylvania," and granny smith apples for a pie.
#itwasallepicallynecessary
As I strolled through Walmart buying what was obviously necessary to my life and the well being of our family, I kept a running tally of my bill...Only sometime between squeezing grape fruit and searching out some nonshriveled oranges (#walmartproducestinks), I forgot my total.
As in, it completely left my brain. I tried looking in my cart and trying to re-tally the whole lot, "Tide is $12, yogurt $1 each, peanut butter...peeannnnut butterrrrrr.....dang, dang, dang."
#hopethereisenoughmoneyinthegroceryenvelope
After a few minutes spent staring at my cart I gave up, and headed to the check out...
Where I left with a whopping $3.47 in the grocery envelope.
Surely enough to get us through the next 20 days of February.
#sorryyoumadeabaddecision
Drat.
It's a snarky little bit of nastiness I like to toss out to Brent at every opportunity.
And, today my own snarkiness came up and bit me on the butt...
(Pardon the language Gentle Reader.)
So 2012 was a rough year. Emotionally, financially, blah-bi-dee-blah-blah...
Yet, it was a great year because my kids were healthy, we had a roof over our head, we never went without food, shelter, clothing, whatever...
However we DID have a foundation repair (ouch), a transmission rebuilt, a water pump go out on my car, a new septic system installed, and Brent had a few fender benders that resulted in unexpected expenses.
This year, we are determined to do better. Stick to our budget, have more fun, get in better shape, clip more coupons...
Rules, rules, rules.
#rulesarestupid
So, with an enthusiastic heart, I went to the bank last Friday, and got the cash for the month.
Saturday we decided to do yard work. And we decided that we simply MUST have pre-emergent for the yard. After all, our less cash conservative neighbors were forking out the big bucks to have lawn services treat their yards....
We drove to a local nursery to buy our OWN pre emergent to save a buck or two.
Only, there was no cash allotted for an impulsive yard care buy. Surely we could just be more careful with our money, perhaps I could clip those coupons I've been stashing in my box for the last month, and it would all balance out!
#itwillallworkout
#letsnotmentionastopatajunkstoreonthewayhome
Fast forward to THIS Friday. A mere week into the month.
I decided to run to the store. We had no plastic wrap.
Which, obviously led to me buying Dr. Pepper, "Hotel Transylvania," and granny smith apples for a pie.
#itwasallepicallynecessary
As I strolled through Walmart buying what was obviously necessary to my life and the well being of our family, I kept a running tally of my bill...Only sometime between squeezing grape fruit and searching out some nonshriveled oranges (#walmartproducestinks), I forgot my total.
As in, it completely left my brain. I tried looking in my cart and trying to re-tally the whole lot, "Tide is $12, yogurt $1 each, peanut butter...peeannnnut butterrrrrr.....dang, dang, dang."
#hopethereisenoughmoneyinthegroceryenvelope
After a few minutes spent staring at my cart I gave up, and headed to the check out...
Where I left with a whopping $3.47 in the grocery envelope.
Surely enough to get us through the next 20 days of February.
#sorryyoumadeabaddecision
Drat.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
It's All Fun and Games Until the Cops Show Up
Last Saturday night as we sat around the fire, eating ourselves sick delicately snacking on S'Mores, Studmuffin suddenly sat straight up in his chair and announced "I think I have a roman candle in the garage!" And he was already rising and heading to the garage before he got the sentence out.
"Is that legal?" Popcorn asked with great big eyes.
"No. It's not." I gave her (and her father) my no nonsense tone...
Studmuffin came jogging up to the fire pit and then he leaned forward to LIGHT THE STUPID THING IN THE FIRE, while the children ran for the house so they would be safe when the cops showed up.
I sputtered and stammered as I had horrific visions of that stupid thing, left over from July 4th, exploding in his hand...
He simply looked at me with a crazed, "I'm so doing this and nothings going to stop me" look in his eyes.
And the fireworks began.
And then they were over. And Bookworm came away from the safety of the storm door, laughing with relief that Daddy didn't have a horrific burn from unsafe handling of fireworks, and Popcorn eventually made her way back to the fire sniffling and worrying that the cops were going to come and take Daddy away.
"Oh, Baby. He won't get arrested. At most he will have to pay a fine. Like he had to do a few times before he decided that seat belts weren't really uncomfortable at all."
She slowly stopped her crying, looked me dead in the eye, and said:
"Do NOT blog this."
I'm not at ALL sure he was remorseful.
Not. At. All.
"Is that legal?" Popcorn asked with great big eyes.
"No. It's not." I gave her (and her father) my no nonsense tone...
Studmuffin came jogging up to the fire pit and then he leaned forward to LIGHT THE STUPID THING IN THE FIRE, while the children ran for the house so they would be safe when the cops showed up.
I sputtered and stammered as I had horrific visions of that stupid thing, left over from July 4th, exploding in his hand...
He simply looked at me with a crazed, "I'm so doing this and nothings going to stop me" look in his eyes.
And the fireworks began.
And then they were over. And Bookworm came away from the safety of the storm door, laughing with relief that Daddy didn't have a horrific burn from unsafe handling of fireworks, and Popcorn eventually made her way back to the fire sniffling and worrying that the cops were going to come and take Daddy away.
"Oh, Baby. He won't get arrested. At most he will have to pay a fine. Like he had to do a few times before he decided that seat belts weren't really uncomfortable at all."
She slowly stopped her crying, looked me dead in the eye, and said:
"Do NOT blog this."
I'm not at ALL sure he was remorseful.
Not. At. All.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Peeps On a Stick
Last week we finally fetched my girls from their grandparents after being away from home for eight whole days. We met my dad at a nearby lake. As we were headed out Studmuffin asked what we were doing about supper, "Because we will be getting there about 6 and you know the girls will be hungry."
So, we threw some drinks and condiments into an ice chest, grabbed a bag of charcoal and chips then ran into the store to grab enough hot dogs to feed a small army. After all, my 16 year old nephew and one of his friends was going to be there too, so I figured it wouldn't be possible to have too much to eat.
Anyway, I have more to say about our trip to the lake, or rather to SHOW you about our trip, but today's post is not about the lake. It is about Peeps.
Or rather, S'mores made out of Peeps.
Perhaps we should call them S'Meeps?
Why do all of my posts begin with topics that are irrelevant to my actual post? Gentle Reader, it is entirely possible that you should pity the people who are frequently inundated with my circular conversations.
So as we were dashing through the store, grabbing all beef hot dogs and buns, Studmuffin caught site of some Peeps. "We should make S'mores out of those!"
And so we did.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Proud Parenting Moment #187
This past week had all sorts of fun and excitement.
The biggest of which was that my brother's kids stayed the night with us after a concert on Tuesday, then took a college day to OU. They got in late Tuesday night, then joined us for breakfast and a quick chat before heading to the campus to get the grand tour...
They got back to our house just in time to go with me to grab the girls from school.
WAIT! I forgot to mention that as I dropped Popcorn off at school I noticed the book fair sign.
"Hey, today is book fair!"
"Yeah, but I'm out of money, so I'm not going."
"Well, I have ten dollars in my purse. If you promise to buy books with it, and not JUNK, you can have that."
"Thanks!" And she hopped out of the car and ran to her friends to chat about the injustice of a mom who would not allow her to wear shorts to school on February 29, when it was going to be a blistering 70 degrees Fahrenheit...
Okay, now back to picking the kiddos up. I had Brook and Kris with me. Popcorn skipped to the car and climbed in. "How was school?"
"Great! I went to the book fair!"
"What did you get?"
And THIS is what she pulled out of her bag, Gentle Reader:
"SERIOUSLY??? I am going to BEAT you with that thing when we get home! I TOLD you to buy a book!"
"But Mooooommm-uh! I did buy a book! A Diary of a Wimpy Kid Dog Days book. But I had three dollars left, so I bought this too!"
"What on earth are you going to do with that thing?" This from Kris, thankfully. I'd already shown my joy over the purchase with the first words from my mouth.
When we got home, I found the situation hilarious. I decided that she MUST keep that stupid cat paw pointer for the rest of her LIFE. And I decided that she must move it every single time she moves, and every time she moves, she must tell the tale of how she promised her mom to buy books, but she had three dollars left, that she absolutely HAD to spend, and obviously a cat paw pointer was the obvious choice...
In hindsight I wish we'd gone around taking photos of her pointing at stuff...But we were in a rush to get this quick picture done so she could leave for school Thursday morning.
As you can see, she wore shorts on Thursday, because I'm a total sap.
What is your favorite, most ridiculous "why on earth did I buy THAT" purchase?
The biggest of which was that my brother's kids stayed the night with us after a concert on Tuesday, then took a college day to OU. They got in late Tuesday night, then joined us for breakfast and a quick chat before heading to the campus to get the grand tour...
They got back to our house just in time to go with me to grab the girls from school.
WAIT! I forgot to mention that as I dropped Popcorn off at school I noticed the book fair sign.
"Hey, today is book fair!"
"Yeah, but I'm out of money, so I'm not going."
"Well, I have ten dollars in my purse. If you promise to buy books with it, and not JUNK, you can have that."
"Thanks!" And she hopped out of the car and ran to her friends to chat about the injustice of a mom who would not allow her to wear shorts to school on February 29, when it was going to be a blistering 70 degrees Fahrenheit...
Okay, now back to picking the kiddos up. I had Brook and Kris with me. Popcorn skipped to the car and climbed in. "How was school?"
"Great! I went to the book fair!"
"What did you get?"
And THIS is what she pulled out of her bag, Gentle Reader:
"SERIOUSLY??? I am going to BEAT you with that thing when we get home! I TOLD you to buy a book!"
"But Mooooommm-uh! I did buy a book! A Diary of a Wimpy Kid Dog Days book. But I had three dollars left, so I bought this too!"
"What on earth are you going to do with that thing?" This from Kris, thankfully. I'd already shown my joy over the purchase with the first words from my mouth.
When we got home, I found the situation hilarious. I decided that she MUST keep that stupid cat paw pointer for the rest of her LIFE. And I decided that she must move it every single time she moves, and every time she moves, she must tell the tale of how she promised her mom to buy books, but she had three dollars left, that she absolutely HAD to spend, and obviously a cat paw pointer was the obvious choice...
In hindsight I wish we'd gone around taking photos of her pointing at stuff...But we were in a rush to get this quick picture done so she could leave for school Thursday morning.
As you can see, she wore shorts on Thursday, because I'm a total sap.
What is your favorite, most ridiculous "why on earth did I buy THAT" purchase?
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Attractive Creeping
I have discovered an unsettling truth about myself.
I'm quite adept at being worthless. Especially if my husband is out of town. If he is gone, and I'm home with the girls, I immediately become worthless.
I'm fairly okay with that.
This weekend I was unable to be as unproductive as I'd like for the simple reason that my children needed new shoes for softball (which I'm so excited about I can't hardly stand it) and Popcorn had the audacity to grow out of her school shoes...
And I had to take Bookworm to her basketball game...
And clearly, my life is just so DIFFICULT.
Anyhoo, my nephew was in town the last two days for a state wrestling tournament. He had asked me to try and meet up with him. He is 17, and has all of the responsibilities of a 17 year old...
Trying to get the details of when/where to meet, or if it was even possible to plan ahead was next to impossible. Of course, it ended up that we couldn't meet because he was busy with matches except the time frame we were at Bookworm's basketball game. I told the girls that our plans for meeting Kris were cancelled.
They took it pretty well considering we had eaten early so Bookworm would not get sick in her game, so they were being quite the little complainers about having to wait to eat anyway.
Bookworm asked if he had a job.
"No, I don't think so."
"Well, he better get one if he wants girls to find him attractive. Girls want guys to have money!"
And being the wonderful example I am, I died laughing...
And then texted Kris the tip that Bookworm had for him.
He LOL'd and said that he did too.
Me: You find guys with money attractive too?
Kris: LOL NO! I seriously need a job.
Me: Good, because I was about to post a facebook prayer intervention with you tagged in the subject line.
And the reality is I'd probably do that, all in the name of being abossy loving aunt...Because while he may think I'm creeping on him when I'm checking his facebook albums and status updates, I consider that part of being a loving aunt. PLUS, I thought creeping was viewing without the person's knowledge. I am very upfront with my nosiness loving concern. At least I message him any concerns instead of voicing disapproval in comment form...
If course he DID block his status updates from my view.
Wonder why???
I'm quite adept at being worthless. Especially if my husband is out of town. If he is gone, and I'm home with the girls, I immediately become worthless.
I'm fairly okay with that.
This weekend I was unable to be as unproductive as I'd like for the simple reason that my children needed new shoes for softball (which I'm so excited about I can't hardly stand it) and Popcorn had the audacity to grow out of her school shoes...
And I had to take Bookworm to her basketball game...
And clearly, my life is just so DIFFICULT.
Anyhoo, my nephew was in town the last two days for a state wrestling tournament. He had asked me to try and meet up with him. He is 17, and has all of the responsibilities of a 17 year old...
Trying to get the details of when/where to meet, or if it was even possible to plan ahead was next to impossible. Of course, it ended up that we couldn't meet because he was busy with matches except the time frame we were at Bookworm's basketball game. I told the girls that our plans for meeting Kris were cancelled.
They took it pretty well considering we had eaten early so Bookworm would not get sick in her game, so they were being quite the little complainers about having to wait to eat anyway.
Bookworm asked if he had a job.
"No, I don't think so."
"Well, he better get one if he wants girls to find him attractive. Girls want guys to have money!"
And being the wonderful example I am, I died laughing...
And then texted Kris the tip that Bookworm had for him.
He LOL'd and said that he did too.
Me: You find guys with money attractive too?
Kris: LOL NO! I seriously need a job.
Me: Good, because I was about to post a facebook prayer intervention with you tagged in the subject line.
And the reality is I'd probably do that, all in the name of being a
If course he DID block his status updates from my view.
Wonder why???
Sunday, February 19, 2012
On a Lighter Note
Friday's post was heavy.
Sorry about that, but sometimes life is heavy. And I feel the need to inflict it on you.
One day last week I was whining to my husband about one of the cases we had. However, I was also expressing relief that it was during normal business hours.
Oh, did I mention we were chatting about this at the dinner table? Aren't you jealous that you aren't at our dinner time conversations?
Anyway, Popcorn wanted to know where these drains were at that I was so stressed about. Bookworm immediately said, "I don't want to know! Just stop talking about it!" Popcorn voiced that it must come out the ear...
"Not quite," and I chuckled.
"Oh. I get it." And she squirmed in her chair. "How awkward."
"What? Where do you think it comes out, then?"
"PLEASE! I'm eating! I don't want to know!" Poor Bookworm.
Popcorn squirmed in her chair again, and said "You know..."
I started laughing. "Not out of your bottom! Is that what you thought!?"
"Well, if it doesn't come out of your ear or your bottom where does it come out!"
So, I explained that they drill a burr hole in the skull and thread a tube down into the brain to drain the blood accumulating.
I think she thought the bottom would be less horrific.
But she still ate a second bowl of chili, so it must not have been too horrific for her.
Sorry about that, but sometimes life is heavy. And I feel the need to inflict it on you.
One day last week I was whining to my husband about one of the cases we had. However, I was also expressing relief that it was during normal business hours.
Oh, did I mention we were chatting about this at the dinner table? Aren't you jealous that you aren't at our dinner time conversations?
Anyway, Popcorn wanted to know where these drains were at that I was so stressed about. Bookworm immediately said, "I don't want to know! Just stop talking about it!" Popcorn voiced that it must come out the ear...
"Not quite," and I chuckled.
"Oh. I get it." And she squirmed in her chair. "How awkward."
"What? Where do you think it comes out, then?"
"PLEASE! I'm eating! I don't want to know!" Poor Bookworm.
Popcorn squirmed in her chair again, and said "You know..."
I started laughing. "Not out of your bottom! Is that what you thought!?"
"Well, if it doesn't come out of your ear or your bottom where does it come out!"
So, I explained that they drill a burr hole in the skull and thread a tube down into the brain to drain the blood accumulating.
I think she thought the bottom would be less horrific.
But she still ate a second bowl of chili, so it must not have been too horrific for her.
Sunday, February 12, 2012
What EXACTLY is She Trying to Tell Me?
A while back we had some friends over for dinner. I don't remember exactly what we were talking about, but I do know we somehow got on the discussion of scary girls in high school. All of the scary girls in my high school had this strange habit of cutting their hair extremely short from the top of their ears down, but leaving the rest of it long. You wouldn't really notice it until they pulled it up in a pony tail. I never understood it, but I always thought it strange...
I guess I should qualify the above statement about scary girls. Two scary girls (who were sisters) in my school had that hair cut. Some other girls did too. They weren't scary at all. However, because the two scary sisters had that hair, I've always associated it with the thought that the gal sporting that 'do may take it into her head to drag me into the parking lot by my hair and pound on me at any given point in time...However, THAT story is a post for another day. Today's post is about something else, not high school bullies....
So. My friend Tammy and I were discussing that hair cut. And how we were scared of girls with that hair...Okay I was scared of girls with that hair.
The next Monday I went to work and had a lady about my age as a patient. She was having a biopsy done of a mass on her lung. As I began to get her ready for her procedure, I noticed that she had what I fondly refer to as "prison tats." You know those tattoos that are that navy blue color and poorly delineated? A lot of the people who have those received them from friends in their garages before tattoo parlors were legal in Oklahoma....Or they received them in exchange for smokes in jail...
I seldom ask where they obtained them. As a matter of fact, I actually refrain from inquiring after them at all, because I really just DON"T want to know.
Anyway, I had a lady my age. She had prison tats...
And she had bad teeth. She was really kind of pretty in a rough sort of way. I couldn't help but silently think that it was a shame she saw fit to put poorly designed tattoos on her inner wrist and chest...
And I thought it was too bad that she apparently had a history of methamphetamine abuse, or her mother had taken tetracycline when she was pregnant, or in her early stage of her childhood causing her to have become discolored. I really doubted the antibiotic theory as I don't think it affects adult teeth...
Do you find it strange that nurses are taking in so many details and trying to guess causes as we are chatting and starting IVs and whatnot? I don't do it consciously. It just happens.
I continued my care of her and learned that she was a smoker. Well, actually I was pretty sure she was a smoker the minute I listened to her lungs, and sooner than that, when I put her coat in the closet and smelled the smoke...
Anyway, she asked if she could go have a smoke before her procedure. I said I didn't think so, and that since she came right out and mentioned it, I was now compelled to give her my "quit smoking lecture."
Her friend was also lecturing her on quitting Diet Coke. I said I wasn't quite as concerned with her soft drink habit as I was the smoking...
Anyway, eventually as I took her back to the table and began to hook her up to my monitors, I learned that she was a prison guard.
?
She was a tiny little thing.
Anyway, that surprised me.
It took a ridiculous amount of medicine to get her sedated. She had been taking pain pills and anxiety pills, so her tolerance to medications was pretty high...At one point I asked her if she was doing okay. she said she was fine but not at all sleepy. I told her that I wasn't certain I'd be able to get her to sleep, but if she wasn't scared, I was calling it good. She tolerated the procedure well.
After her procedure, when I had her back in her bay, I noticed as she pulled up her hair that short under the long layer hair cut...And I mentally checked off, "prison tats, bad teeth, scary girl haircut, and now I learn she's a prison guard." Yep. She pretty much met all of my stereotypes.
It's hard not to become judgmental in my world. You hear so many stories, and see the same consequence to the same action over and over so that it gets hard to not look at people and go, "What are you thinking?"
Anyway, she had to stick around a while, which led to some chatting as she was my last patient to go home for the day. She asked why I couldn't get her to sleep. "Well, unfortunately you've been using a lot of medications at home that act the same brain receptors as my sedation medications. That means you are resistant to them, and I would have ended up giving you enough to dart an elephant to get you to sleep. I decided that rather than that, we would just shoot for super relaxed."
She agreed that she had felt fine and didn't really mind the procedure at all.
However, she did ask if I'd ever thought of working in the prison system. She thought I'd make a "great prison nurse."
What exactly does that mean?
I decided I didn't want to know. Perhaps I've become a bit TOO matter of fact in my job?
Something to think about.
I guess I should qualify the above statement about scary girls. Two scary girls (who were sisters) in my school had that hair cut. Some other girls did too. They weren't scary at all. However, because the two scary sisters had that hair, I've always associated it with the thought that the gal sporting that 'do may take it into her head to drag me into the parking lot by my hair and pound on me at any given point in time...However, THAT story is a post for another day. Today's post is about something else, not high school bullies....
So. My friend Tammy and I were discussing that hair cut. And how we were scared of girls with that hair...Okay I was scared of girls with that hair.
The next Monday I went to work and had a lady about my age as a patient. She was having a biopsy done of a mass on her lung. As I began to get her ready for her procedure, I noticed that she had what I fondly refer to as "prison tats." You know those tattoos that are that navy blue color and poorly delineated? A lot of the people who have those received them from friends in their garages before tattoo parlors were legal in Oklahoma....Or they received them in exchange for smokes in jail...
I seldom ask where they obtained them. As a matter of fact, I actually refrain from inquiring after them at all, because I really just DON"T want to know.
Anyway, I had a lady my age. She had prison tats...
And she had bad teeth. She was really kind of pretty in a rough sort of way. I couldn't help but silently think that it was a shame she saw fit to put poorly designed tattoos on her inner wrist and chest...
And I thought it was too bad that she apparently had a history of methamphetamine abuse, or her mother had taken tetracycline when she was pregnant, or in her early stage of her childhood causing her to have become discolored. I really doubted the antibiotic theory as I don't think it affects adult teeth...
Do you find it strange that nurses are taking in so many details and trying to guess causes as we are chatting and starting IVs and whatnot? I don't do it consciously. It just happens.
I continued my care of her and learned that she was a smoker. Well, actually I was pretty sure she was a smoker the minute I listened to her lungs, and sooner than that, when I put her coat in the closet and smelled the smoke...
Anyway, she asked if she could go have a smoke before her procedure. I said I didn't think so, and that since she came right out and mentioned it, I was now compelled to give her my "quit smoking lecture."
Her friend was also lecturing her on quitting Diet Coke. I said I wasn't quite as concerned with her soft drink habit as I was the smoking...
Anyway, eventually as I took her back to the table and began to hook her up to my monitors, I learned that she was a prison guard.
?
She was a tiny little thing.
Anyway, that surprised me.
It took a ridiculous amount of medicine to get her sedated. She had been taking pain pills and anxiety pills, so her tolerance to medications was pretty high...At one point I asked her if she was doing okay. she said she was fine but not at all sleepy. I told her that I wasn't certain I'd be able to get her to sleep, but if she wasn't scared, I was calling it good. She tolerated the procedure well.
After her procedure, when I had her back in her bay, I noticed as she pulled up her hair that short under the long layer hair cut...And I mentally checked off, "prison tats, bad teeth, scary girl haircut, and now I learn she's a prison guard." Yep. She pretty much met all of my stereotypes.
It's hard not to become judgmental in my world. You hear so many stories, and see the same consequence to the same action over and over so that it gets hard to not look at people and go, "What are you thinking?"
Anyway, she had to stick around a while, which led to some chatting as she was my last patient to go home for the day. She asked why I couldn't get her to sleep. "Well, unfortunately you've been using a lot of medications at home that act the same brain receptors as my sedation medications. That means you are resistant to them, and I would have ended up giving you enough to dart an elephant to get you to sleep. I decided that rather than that, we would just shoot for super relaxed."
She agreed that she had felt fine and didn't really mind the procedure at all.
However, she did ask if I'd ever thought of working in the prison system. She thought I'd make a "great prison nurse."
What exactly does that mean?
I decided I didn't want to know. Perhaps I've become a bit TOO matter of fact in my job?
Something to think about.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
As I'm Posting Cowgirl Stories...
I've been reminiscing a lot about my years growing up on the farm. And most of my happy thoughts involve the horse. And cattle. Heck! I even liked building fence, even though it drove me crazy that Dad could drive four steeples to my one...
Apparently, Brent is dreaming of his childhood too. My husband keeps leaving links such as these up on my homepage...
http://www.machinefinder.com/ww/en-US/machine/1753925
And this:
http://www.tractordata.com/farm-tractors/001/3/5/1357-versatile-950.html
Look it even has two seats!
That would have been much comfier to sit in when we were dating!
?
You didn't ride the tractor with your boyfriend?
I'm sorry. You really missed out.
Oh, and he seems to think he needs one with these track thingies on it...Apparently it doesn't pack the soil as firm.
I'm not sure where the man is going to get the green to buy himself a big ole John Deere tractor.
But he sure is wishin'.
And I'm seeing my visions of "stay at home trophy wife" be slowly overtaken by "wife who drives the tractor on her day off."
Which I fear is his vision of a trophy wife.
I think we need to lay out some concrete definitions.
What have you been wishing for this Valentine's Day?
Oh, and that picture makes me think of this song I love called "The Farmer's Daughter." I asked Brent if it made him think of us...
"Why would that song make me think of us? I never worked for your dad. And you didn't have hogs. And you never went to Panama, much less had a tan."
Me: Ugh. You have no romance in your soul!
Brent: No, babe. Our song is "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy."
Me: That makes absolutely no sense! You HATE Kenny Chesney!
Brent: Well, you did think my tractor was sexy!
Me: Um, noooo. I thought your 1992 Chevy stepside pickup was hot.
Brent: Huh. How about "John Deere Green?"
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/6AwQPW6myWo" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen>iframe>
Me: Okay. I'll go with that.
Apparently, Brent is dreaming of his childhood too. My husband keeps leaving links such as these up on my homepage...
http://www.machinefinder.com/ww/en-US/machine/1753925
And this:
http://www.tractordata.com/farm-tractors/001/3/5/1357-versatile-950.html
Look it even has two seats!
That would have been much comfier to sit in when we were dating!
?
You didn't ride the tractor with your boyfriend?
I'm sorry. You really missed out.
Oh, and he seems to think he needs one with these track thingies on it...Apparently it doesn't pack the soil as firm.
I'm not sure where the man is going to get the green to buy himself a big ole John Deere tractor.
But he sure is wishin'.
And I'm seeing my visions of "stay at home trophy wife" be slowly overtaken by "wife who drives the tractor on her day off."
Which I fear is his vision of a trophy wife.
I think we need to lay out some concrete definitions.
What have you been wishing for this Valentine's Day?
Oh, and that picture makes me think of this song I love called "The Farmer's Daughter." I asked Brent if it made him think of us...
"Why would that song make me think of us? I never worked for your dad. And you didn't have hogs. And you never went to Panama, much less had a tan."
Me: Ugh. You have no romance in your soul!
Brent: No, babe. Our song is "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy."
Me: That makes absolutely no sense! You HATE Kenny Chesney!
Brent: Well, you did think my tractor was sexy!
Me: Um, noooo. I thought your 1992 Chevy stepside pickup was hot.
Brent: Huh. How about "John Deere Green?"
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/6AwQPW6myWo" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen>iframe>
Me: Okay. I'll go with that.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Enunciation (Or How An Accent Changes Things)
Attention: This post contains language that I don't use...Except that I'm having to tell a story.
And the story just isn't the same without direct quotes.
And they use the word in the Bible.
So surely that makes it okay.
Yesterday's post about Rasslin' made me think about accents.
And that made me think of my dear friend Jennifer. She's from Tyler, Texas and her accent is quite catching.
So catching that when we lived in Texas Grace said such words as "hotayel" instead of "hotel." Since I didn't tend to add extra accents to my vowels, I could only blame such things on Jennifer...
Anyhoo. We lived in Arlington, TX for eight years. And for six of those eight years, I worked at a hospital in Fort Worth. Two years as a nursing student, and the last four as an RN.
One day Melody (one of my fellow RNs) and I were standing in the medication room, drawing up medications in syringes and doing all sorts of other "nursey" type things. Things that require the UTMOST attention to detail, so I'm QUITE certain that there was just NO way we were discussing our precious new baby girls who were mere weeks apart...
I'm sure we were discussing cardiac rhythms and fluid overload and uncontrolled diabetes...Or some other lofty, most excellent and invigorating subject.
But the POINT is that we were in the medication room.
And we were possibly chatting.
And then a respiratory therapist stuck her head around the corner (this was before the days when medication rooms became required to have locked doors) and said, "Hey guys, where do y'all keep your ass?"
Melody and I froze. We slowly turned and looked at her. Two heads turning, eyes widening...
"Excuse me?"
"Where do y'all keep your ass?"
There was a beat of silence.
"Our whaaaat?" And we both began to slowly turn our heads to look over our shoulders at our, well...Our backside...
"Your ass! Your ass!! Where do you keep your ASS?"
And suddenly Melody, who was Texas born and bred said, "Oh my gosh! Ice! You are looking for our ice!"
And we both broke into peals of laughter.
I'm not sure if we answered her between gasps of hilarity, and gestures to our behinds, and broken phrases of "Oh my gosh" and "I thought she was saying ass" and "me too!"
And then we laughed some more.
As the day progressed we'd be working along, bustling this way and that up and down the halls, in and out of rooms. We'd happen to enter a door at the same time, and then our eyes would meet and one of us would say "ice" and the laughter would start all over again.
We dined on that request for ice for months to follow.
Strangely, the respiratory therapist never seemed to find the humor in the situation.
And the story just isn't the same without direct quotes.
And they use the word in the Bible.
So surely that makes it okay.
Yesterday's post about Rasslin' made me think about accents.
And that made me think of my dear friend Jennifer. She's from Tyler, Texas and her accent is quite catching.
So catching that when we lived in Texas Grace said such words as "hotayel" instead of "hotel." Since I didn't tend to add extra accents to my vowels, I could only blame such things on Jennifer...
Anyhoo. We lived in Arlington, TX for eight years. And for six of those eight years, I worked at a hospital in Fort Worth. Two years as a nursing student, and the last four as an RN.
One day Melody (one of my fellow RNs) and I were standing in the medication room, drawing up medications in syringes and doing all sorts of other "nursey" type things. Things that require the UTMOST attention to detail, so I'm QUITE certain that there was just NO way we were discussing our precious new baby girls who were mere weeks apart...
I'm sure we were discussing cardiac rhythms and fluid overload and uncontrolled diabetes...Or some other lofty, most excellent and invigorating subject.
But the POINT is that we were in the medication room.
And we were possibly chatting.
And then a respiratory therapist stuck her head around the corner (this was before the days when medication rooms became required to have locked doors) and said, "Hey guys, where do y'all keep your ass?"
Melody and I froze. We slowly turned and looked at her. Two heads turning, eyes widening...
"Excuse me?"
"Where do y'all keep your ass?"
There was a beat of silence.
"Our whaaaat?" And we both began to slowly turn our heads to look over our shoulders at our, well...Our backside...
"Your ass! Your ass!! Where do you keep your ASS?"
And suddenly Melody, who was Texas born and bred said, "Oh my gosh! Ice! You are looking for our ice!"
And we both broke into peals of laughter.
I'm not sure if we answered her between gasps of hilarity, and gestures to our behinds, and broken phrases of "Oh my gosh" and "I thought she was saying ass" and "me too!"
And then we laughed some more.
As the day progressed we'd be working along, bustling this way and that up and down the halls, in and out of rooms. We'd happen to enter a door at the same time, and then our eyes would meet and one of us would say "ice" and the laughter would start all over again.
We dined on that request for ice for months to follow.
Strangely, the respiratory therapist never seemed to find the humor in the situation.
Friday, December 16, 2011
A Touch of Class.
Tuesday night the girls were in bed reading...
I was laying on the couch with my sedative (a fleece blanket over me and ice pack to my lower back.) I was all decked out in my very best flannel pajamas.
At one point (somewhere between Last Man Standing and before we started Buffy on Netflix) Brent turned to me and said, "Bret called to tell me he decided to mount Barrett's buck." Bret is his brother. Barrett is his nephew. This year Barrett got a ten point buck when they went hunting...
Brent got NUTHIN'. Unless one counts the privilege of taking his nephew hunting...And I can assure you he doesn't.
Not that I care if he gets a deer... Well, I care. But only because my husband feel his testosterone levels are somehow linked to the quantity of animals he kills per year.
Anyway, he felt the need to tell me Barrett's deer will be mounted.
I tried to look interested...Secretly, I was just relieved said deer will not be in MY house...
"He's decided on the European mount."
Great. He expects interaction with this conversation...
"What does that mean?" I inquired brightly.
"It's where they use this super confusing process that leaches all of the flesh off of the skull to make it super white..."
Okay, that's not what he said. But I think that was the gist of it.
"Yuck. Who would want to do that? Mount a deer skull in their living room? Gross."
He suddenly sat upright from his reclining position. "I'm going to do it with the next coyote I get. It's really classy!"
And at that, Gentle Reader, I began to laugh. Hard.
And loud.
And quite obnoxiously...
I'm talking straight from the gut laughter.
Seriously? A deer skull? CLASSY????
He got a little huffy on me. I have no idea why.
"I'll prove it to you! Just wait!" And he victoriously pulled up a picture much like this on the computer:
Gentle Reader, I am afraid this did NOT make me come around to his way of thinking...I fear it only made me laugh harder...
He was quite put out with me...
While in no way am I able to deny that I lack all sorts of sophistication or refinement, I can't quite figure out how that monstrosity is going to elevate us in any sort of societal circles.
But that's just me.
Thoughts?
I was laying on the couch with my sedative (a fleece blanket over me and ice pack to my lower back.) I was all decked out in my very best flannel pajamas.
At one point (somewhere between Last Man Standing and before we started Buffy on Netflix) Brent turned to me and said, "Bret called to tell me he decided to mount Barrett's buck." Bret is his brother. Barrett is his nephew. This year Barrett got a ten point buck when they went hunting...
Brent got NUTHIN'. Unless one counts the privilege of taking his nephew hunting...And I can assure you he doesn't.
Not that I care if he gets a deer... Well, I care. But only because my husband feel his testosterone levels are somehow linked to the quantity of animals he kills per year.
Anyway, he felt the need to tell me Barrett's deer will be mounted.
I tried to look interested...Secretly, I was just relieved said deer will not be in MY house...
"He's decided on the European mount."
Great. He expects interaction with this conversation...
"What does that mean?" I inquired brightly.
"It's where they use this super confusing process that leaches all of the flesh off of the skull to make it super white..."
Okay, that's not what he said. But I think that was the gist of it.
"Yuck. Who would want to do that? Mount a deer skull in their living room? Gross."
He suddenly sat upright from his reclining position. "I'm going to do it with the next coyote I get. It's really classy!"
And at that, Gentle Reader, I began to laugh. Hard.
And loud.
And quite obnoxiously...
I'm talking straight from the gut laughter.
Seriously? A deer skull? CLASSY????
He got a little huffy on me. I have no idea why.
"I'll prove it to you! Just wait!" And he victoriously pulled up a picture much like this on the computer:
Gentle Reader, I am afraid this did NOT make me come around to his way of thinking...I fear it only made me laugh harder...
He was quite put out with me...
While in no way am I able to deny that I lack all sorts of sophistication or refinement, I can't quite figure out how that monstrosity is going to elevate us in any sort of societal circles.
But that's just me.
Thoughts?
Saturday, December 10, 2011
From Frizzy Hair to Christmas Tidings
I turned 36 yesterday. It was a GREAT day. My husband took the entire family to eat at Red Lobster. Popcorn insisted on ordering lobster.
She thought it was the scariest looking thing ever. But she ate a few bites...And she tried scallops and shrimp cooked three different ways, none of which were fried popcorn shrimp.
She mostly ate her rice, some steamed broccoli and cheddar biscuits.
I tried not to shudder at the fact that I could feed the family for a week on what we paid for one meal.
You will be pleased to know that I then went shopping. FOR MYSELF. And I bought stuff for myself alone!!! I know I refer to shopping a lot in this blog, but what my followers who know me only through blogland don't realize is that I am still wearing clothes from before my children were born. It is a sad thing to look in my closet. I thought of getting rid of everything over three years old. But then I realized I'd have no clothes...
My back has been bothering me. I feel as if my body has betrayed me. I exercise. I watch my weight. I lift patients that weigh as much or more than me...And that seems to have outweighed all of my endeavors to have a healthy back...Did you know I think people who have back pain are annoying?
Well, anyway I find myself VERY annoying, so therefore I'm sure my coworkers are getting tired of my refusal to lift patients this week.
My hair is also betraying me. I need to color it. I haven't had it cut since late June. It is a frizzy mess with gray roots showing. Perhaps I shall take time from my life to get it cut. Perhaps I have betrayed it instead of vice versa.
I feel as if I should write my Christmas letter/cards. However, I can't decide what to say. Should I tell them of my aging body? Perhaps I'll mention my frizzy hair and kids with dramatic tendencies that comes from who knows where.
Or maybe I'll tell them all about our animals...How we went from two to five in just a matter of weeks. And now we are back down to three. Our pregnant female cat disappeared one day and we haven't seen her since. Of course we have hawks and owls and of course the coyotes who come to my back fence and look in at our animals on a daily basis...Now all Popcorn wants for her birthday is a little kitten. SOOoooo. Does anyone have a kitten who will be ready to wean on December thirtieth?
Studmuffin is finishing our Christmas shopping today. At least I think he's finishing it. Until I remember another gift I forgot, we are finished...
Do you need a Chesney story?
Well, as you can see from my last few posts, we have new decorations out. She has been really good to leave them alone, as being scolded makes her tremble in fear. Unless it involves Popcorn's socks, and then she will risk severe punishment for a taste of that delightful funk...Anyway, a few days ago I heard Bookworm yelling "Chesney, no!!" And then I heard Popcorn's panicked rejoinder...
I came in the room to find them wresting a porcelain doll that my Grandmama gave me for Christmas one year as a child from her jaws. My grandparents seldom gave us gifts as they had 16 grandchildren and five children...So obviously buying gifts would be a little overwhelming. Well, one year they gave all of their smaller granddaughters a little porcelain doll. Here is what mine looks like:
Isn't she cute posed on the reindeer my mother in law made a few years back? She used to have a bonnet, but it has been lost at some point through the years.
Anyway, I offered Chesney a sock, and she quickly dropped the doll with no complaints. The girls both chorused relief, as it would be terrible if Chesney ate the doll. I agreed whole heartedly. Then Bookworm said, "Yes, those bits of porcelain would have cut up her insides"...And I silently thought that I wasn't particularly thinking of the harm the DOLL would do her if she ate it, but rather the harm I would do the DOG if she ate the DOLL!
The doll is now happily posed safely in a tea cup on my piano, out of the jaws of death...
And the dog is currently safely chewing on an old sock that I have Popcorn put on every day or so, just to keep the right proportion of her foot funk in it, (okay not really, but only because Popcorn is a disobedient child and refuses to humor me) and she is quietly lying at my feet by the fire, and Kelsey is sitting with her head on my arm rest...
And I can't help but be sort of glad that we have dogs in the house.
Considering I was raised in a no pets allowed in the house family, I never thought I'd say that!
Well, I shall sign off now. But not before I end with yesterday's chuckle courtesy of Bookworm. The middle school Gifted and Talented children were given the privilege of going to see the Nutcracker in Norman. AND they got to go to OU the campus and eat! ALL BY THEMSELVES!! (We will not discuss the stress hives I had over this.) Anyway, I asked her what she thought of the Nutcracker...Well, it seems she was too distracted by those tight tights the men were wearing. Let's just say that she never wanted to see that many details of strange men's anatomy.
Then, she and her buddy went to eat at ChikfilA. However, her friend only had five dollars, and they were hoping to hit Starbucks before they had to return to school...Well, Bookworm pointed out that if they ordered just a sandwich and water they would have enough left to get cocoa at Starbucks. Yes, my 11 year old has mad money skills...
So, they ventured into Starbucks after their feast of a classic ChikfilA sandwich and filtered water...They ordered the smallest hot chocolate they had...
"And Mom, can you believe they charged four bucks for a little cup of hot chocolate?!! You could buy a whole box of hot cocoa mix for like a dollar! And it didn't even taste good. They overflowed it with whipped cream and it tasted horrible!" Of course, my kids hate whipped cream, and she didn't know to tell them to hold the whipped cream.
So, I'm happy to report I'm raising a daughter who recognizes the value of a dollar, and knows how to make her money stretch...And she values modesty...
But I have to confess that my other daughter said, "I want to go see that!" when Bookworm described her horror over them men's apparel.
So, there ya go. My universe is apparently in balance.
She thought it was the scariest looking thing ever. But she ate a few bites...And she tried scallops and shrimp cooked three different ways, none of which were fried popcorn shrimp.
She mostly ate her rice, some steamed broccoli and cheddar biscuits.
I tried not to shudder at the fact that I could feed the family for a week on what we paid for one meal.
You will be pleased to know that I then went shopping. FOR MYSELF. And I bought stuff for myself alone!!! I know I refer to shopping a lot in this blog, but what my followers who know me only through blogland don't realize is that I am still wearing clothes from before my children were born. It is a sad thing to look in my closet. I thought of getting rid of everything over three years old. But then I realized I'd have no clothes...
My back has been bothering me. I feel as if my body has betrayed me. I exercise. I watch my weight. I lift patients that weigh as much or more than me...And that seems to have outweighed all of my endeavors to have a healthy back...Did you know I think people who have back pain are annoying?
Well, anyway I find myself VERY annoying, so therefore I'm sure my coworkers are getting tired of my refusal to lift patients this week.
My hair is also betraying me. I need to color it. I haven't had it cut since late June. It is a frizzy mess with gray roots showing. Perhaps I shall take time from my life to get it cut. Perhaps I have betrayed it instead of vice versa.
I feel as if I should write my Christmas letter/cards. However, I can't decide what to say. Should I tell them of my aging body? Perhaps I'll mention my frizzy hair and kids with dramatic tendencies that comes from who knows where.
Or maybe I'll tell them all about our animals...How we went from two to five in just a matter of weeks. And now we are back down to three. Our pregnant female cat disappeared one day and we haven't seen her since. Of course we have hawks and owls and of course the coyotes who come to my back fence and look in at our animals on a daily basis...Now all Popcorn wants for her birthday is a little kitten. SOOoooo. Does anyone have a kitten who will be ready to wean on December thirtieth?
Studmuffin is finishing our Christmas shopping today. At least I think he's finishing it. Until I remember another gift I forgot, we are finished...
Do you need a Chesney story?
Well, as you can see from my last few posts, we have new decorations out. She has been really good to leave them alone, as being scolded makes her tremble in fear. Unless it involves Popcorn's socks, and then she will risk severe punishment for a taste of that delightful funk...Anyway, a few days ago I heard Bookworm yelling "Chesney, no!!" And then I heard Popcorn's panicked rejoinder...
I came in the room to find them wresting a porcelain doll that my Grandmama gave me for Christmas one year as a child from her jaws. My grandparents seldom gave us gifts as they had 16 grandchildren and five children...So obviously buying gifts would be a little overwhelming. Well, one year they gave all of their smaller granddaughters a little porcelain doll. Here is what mine looks like:
Isn't she cute posed on the reindeer my mother in law made a few years back? She used to have a bonnet, but it has been lost at some point through the years.
Anyway, I offered Chesney a sock, and she quickly dropped the doll with no complaints. The girls both chorused relief, as it would be terrible if Chesney ate the doll. I agreed whole heartedly. Then Bookworm said, "Yes, those bits of porcelain would have cut up her insides"...And I silently thought that I wasn't particularly thinking of the harm the DOLL would do her if she ate it, but rather the harm I would do the DOG if she ate the DOLL!
The doll is now happily posed safely in a tea cup on my piano, out of the jaws of death...
And the dog is currently safely chewing on an old sock that I have Popcorn put on every day or so, just to keep the right proportion of her foot funk in it, (okay not really, but only because Popcorn is a disobedient child and refuses to humor me) and she is quietly lying at my feet by the fire, and Kelsey is sitting with her head on my arm rest...
And I can't help but be sort of glad that we have dogs in the house.
Considering I was raised in a no pets allowed in the house family, I never thought I'd say that!
Well, I shall sign off now. But not before I end with yesterday's chuckle courtesy of Bookworm. The middle school Gifted and Talented children were given the privilege of going to see the Nutcracker in Norman. AND they got to go to OU the campus and eat! ALL BY THEMSELVES!! (We will not discuss the stress hives I had over this.) Anyway, I asked her what she thought of the Nutcracker...Well, it seems she was too distracted by those tight tights the men were wearing. Let's just say that she never wanted to see that many details of strange men's anatomy.
Then, she and her buddy went to eat at ChikfilA. However, her friend only had five dollars, and they were hoping to hit Starbucks before they had to return to school...Well, Bookworm pointed out that if they ordered just a sandwich and water they would have enough left to get cocoa at Starbucks. Yes, my 11 year old has mad money skills...
So, they ventured into Starbucks after their feast of a classic ChikfilA sandwich and filtered water...They ordered the smallest hot chocolate they had...
"And Mom, can you believe they charged four bucks for a little cup of hot chocolate?!! You could buy a whole box of hot cocoa mix for like a dollar! And it didn't even taste good. They overflowed it with whipped cream and it tasted horrible!" Of course, my kids hate whipped cream, and she didn't know to tell them to hold the whipped cream.
So, I'm happy to report I'm raising a daughter who recognizes the value of a dollar, and knows how to make her money stretch...And she values modesty...
But I have to confess that my other daughter said, "I want to go see that!" when Bookworm described her horror over them men's apparel.
So, there ya go. My universe is apparently in balance.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Conversations
Wednesday was a lovely fall day. The kids asked me to take them to the park. Now, I have to admit that when we go to our park, I tend to just turn them loose and sit on a sunny bench and read. However, it was too brisk to sit on a cold concrete bench, so I decided to join them on their adventure. You see, our park has a little forest. I was so pleasantly surprised at how lovely the little trail was! It is definitely a photo opportunity.
Anyway, Popcorn found one of those pods with large seeds in them that some trees have. I don't know what they're called. But, no, they're not locust trees. The pods were about an inch wide and the seeds were bigger than lima beans...Anyway, one of the seeds was sprouting.
"I'm going to go home and plant it! Then we will FINALLY have a climbing tree at our house!"
"Honey, it takes like ten years for a tree to get big enough to climb."
"Fine. Then I will wait until I'm 19 to plant it."
So that was odd reasoning...
"Why don't you just plant it now, and then when your kids are growing up they can climb it?"
"Ufff! Fine! Then I will have to be overprotective and go out and watch them...It will be so ANNOYING! Gosh!"
And I burst out laughing.
Her brain is weird.
Anyway, Popcorn found one of those pods with large seeds in them that some trees have. I don't know what they're called. But, no, they're not locust trees. The pods were about an inch wide and the seeds were bigger than lima beans...Anyway, one of the seeds was sprouting.
"I'm going to go home and plant it! Then we will FINALLY have a climbing tree at our house!"
"Honey, it takes like ten years for a tree to get big enough to climb."
"Fine. Then I will wait until I'm 19 to plant it."
So that was odd reasoning...
"Why don't you just plant it now, and then when your kids are growing up they can climb it?"
"Ufff! Fine! Then I will have to be overprotective and go out and watch them...It will be so ANNOYING! Gosh!"
And I burst out laughing.
Her brain is weird.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Car Conversations...
I laugh.
A LOT
And I laugh LOUD.
I can't help it. My family is really funny.
As we were driving to Tulsa on Saturday we had two hysterical conversations.
"Babe! There is a giant blue gorilla in front of David Stanley Chevrolet! Let's go there and buy a car right now!"
"Sorry. We can't go there until they add a giant inflatable crocodile."
Truly Gentle Reader have you ever in your life bought a car where they have a giant inflatable? And why is it so often a gorilla? I would like to see the statistics on improved car sales directly proportional to giant inflatable gorillas.
We were listening to Bookworm's iTouch. We had it plugged into our car stereo, and it was on random shuffle. Popcorn was singing along to one of the songs from her new Selena Gomez album.
"Do you already know all of the songs?" I asked her.
"I know every word to every song on this CD" she stated proudly.
Not missing a beat, her dad added "And yet your math facts elude you."
A LOT
And I laugh LOUD.
I can't help it. My family is really funny.
As we were driving to Tulsa on Saturday we had two hysterical conversations.
"Babe! There is a giant blue gorilla in front of David Stanley Chevrolet! Let's go there and buy a car right now!"
"Sorry. We can't go there until they add a giant inflatable crocodile."
Truly Gentle Reader have you ever in your life bought a car where they have a giant inflatable? And why is it so often a gorilla? I would like to see the statistics on improved car sales directly proportional to giant inflatable gorillas.
We were listening to Bookworm's iTouch. We had it plugged into our car stereo, and it was on random shuffle. Popcorn was singing along to one of the songs from her new Selena Gomez album.
"Do you already know all of the songs?" I asked her.
"I know every word to every song on this CD" she stated proudly.
Not missing a beat, her dad added "And yet your math facts elude you."
Friday, September 23, 2011
Dinner Conversation
Last night we had chili for dinner. It was fabulous.
Side note: Popcorn has gymnastics on Thursday. She eats a snack on the way there, and a snack on the way home, but watch out if dinner is not basically ready when we get home. She is so hungry that she has total melt down if she has to wait even twenty minutes. Home made pizza night has now moved to Wednesday night, for obvious reasons.
Back to topic: The chili was good. I really really really wanted a third bowl. "I really want some more chili, but I am trying to resist."
"You are having an inner conflict," Bookworm informed me in all earnestness.
Where does she come up with this stuff?
By the way: Happy Fall!
Oh, and after trying this trick, I googled it to figure out where the whole egg balancing thing began, and guess what? You can do this every single day of the year!
Here's a Snopes link for your edification:
http://www.snopes.com/science/equinox.asp
Side note: Popcorn has gymnastics on Thursday. She eats a snack on the way there, and a snack on the way home, but watch out if dinner is not basically ready when we get home. She is so hungry that she has total melt down if she has to wait even twenty minutes. Home made pizza night has now moved to Wednesday night, for obvious reasons.
Back to topic: The chili was good. I really really really wanted a third bowl. "I really want some more chili, but I am trying to resist."
"You are having an inner conflict," Bookworm informed me in all earnestness.
Where does she come up with this stuff?
By the way: Happy Fall!
Oh, and after trying this trick, I googled it to figure out where the whole egg balancing thing began, and guess what? You can do this every single day of the year!
Here's a Snopes link for your edification:
http://www.snopes.com/science/equinox.asp
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Who Knew?
Wednesday my kids brought home their achievement test scores. I had been eagerly awaiting them, as it has always been patently obvious to me that my children are nothing short of genius...However it's always nice to have my theories confirmed by an outside party.
I looked through a certain child's bag to find her scores, and found a handful of papers in various pouches and pockets of her bag and zipper binder...
I perused her test scores, not at all surprised to see she scored advanced in most areas. However, I was surprised to peruse her schoolwork scores...
It seems this particular child is too intelligent to be bothered with showing math work. And too incredibly brilliant to go back and check her work. In fact she is so masterfully genius that she has a 74 average in math at this point. I know what her average is because I totalled her homework scores and then divided them by 9, the number of papers she had turned in so far.
Y'know.
Because applying math skills is handy that way.
I called her into the house where her father and I sat her down and discussed her schoolwork...
Side Note: I had to calm her father down before we chatted with her. You see, our schools were both on a seven point system, so 93-100 was an A, 85-92 a B, and 78-84 a C, with 70-77 a D, and below a 70 failing! I pointed out that this school grades on the ten point scale, so thankfully she has a "C" at this point and not a "D." Which was really a good thing, because I thought Studmuffin was going to stroke out when he thought his child had a "D."
"But did you see my test scores?" she asked.
"Yes, I saw your test scores. Achievement test scores don't get you scholarships in college!" At this time her sister walked in the room...
"How are you going to get money for college?" I asked the unsuspecting sister. Fortunately for her, she has listened to my oft drilled in answer.
"I have to make all A's and get scholarships."
"That's right! You have to get academic scholarships. You are both incredibly smart. There is no reason for you to not make straight A's. If you decide to be lazy and not make A's and therefore not get scholarships, you will STILL go to college, but you will go through on student loans. And then you will leave college with a mountain of debt to pay off." I am so loving and gentle, no?
The child with the questionable math grade looked at her father and I and said in all earnestness, "Well, I could also get a scholarship in archery!"
*
!?
*!?%!*
Well, after we picked our jaws up off of the floor, Studmuffin informed her that while that may be possible, there probably aren't a lot of archery scholarships out there, so she better get her act together and keep her grades up.
Archery.
Who knew?
I looked through a certain child's bag to find her scores, and found a handful of papers in various pouches and pockets of her bag and zipper binder...
I perused her test scores, not at all surprised to see she scored advanced in most areas. However, I was surprised to peruse her schoolwork scores...
It seems this particular child is too intelligent to be bothered with showing math work. And too incredibly brilliant to go back and check her work. In fact she is so masterfully genius that she has a 74 average in math at this point. I know what her average is because I totalled her homework scores and then divided them by 9, the number of papers she had turned in so far.
Y'know.
Because applying math skills is handy that way.
I called her into the house where her father and I sat her down and discussed her schoolwork...
Side Note: I had to calm her father down before we chatted with her. You see, our schools were both on a seven point system, so 93-100 was an A, 85-92 a B, and 78-84 a C, with 70-77 a D, and below a 70 failing! I pointed out that this school grades on the ten point scale, so thankfully she has a "C" at this point and not a "D." Which was really a good thing, because I thought Studmuffin was going to stroke out when he thought his child had a "D."
"But did you see my test scores?" she asked.
"Yes, I saw your test scores. Achievement test scores don't get you scholarships in college!" At this time her sister walked in the room...
"How are you going to get money for college?" I asked the unsuspecting sister. Fortunately for her, she has listened to my oft drilled in answer.
"I have to make all A's and get scholarships."
"That's right! You have to get academic scholarships. You are both incredibly smart. There is no reason for you to not make straight A's. If you decide to be lazy and not make A's and therefore not get scholarships, you will STILL go to college, but you will go through on student loans. And then you will leave college with a mountain of debt to pay off." I am so loving and gentle, no?
The child with the questionable math grade looked at her father and I and said in all earnestness, "Well, I could also get a scholarship in archery!"
*
!?
*!?%!*
Well, after we picked our jaws up off of the floor, Studmuffin informed her that while that may be possible, there probably aren't a lot of archery scholarships out there, so she better get her act together and keep her grades up.
Archery.
Who knew?
Monday, August 1, 2011
Squandering Kisses.
I'm bored. And I am one who is seldom bored. I'm typically just too hyper of a person to experience any periods of true boredom.
I could go swim, but the girls are obsessed with Bookworm's new iPod. She is allowed use of it all day today, then it will be limited to one hour per day, excluding just listening to music. Because I'm mean that way.
Anyhoo, what this means to me is that nobody wants to go swimming with me, and I don't really WANT to go swim even though I should because it is good for me. But I'm just not feeling motivated that way today.
I could clip coupons. But I don't wanna, and the girls will need something to do while I'm at work tomorrow. That is a good chore for them to do, then I simply file them. Because I'm kind of lazy that way.
We had a slumber party this weekend, and I picked up after it yesterday, so there's really no housework to be done. I'm sure if I looked hard enough I could find something, but it's Sunday, and I'm pretty dead set against housework on Sunday. Unless I want to do it, but again, I'm kind of lazy feeling today.
I could go get a pedicure. I had planned on getting one with a friend yesterday. However, her daddy has been sick and she opted to spend the day with him, and I couldn't make myself go alone. Plus, I played in the pool with Popcorn yesterday for over two hours, and was wiped by the time we were done. My feet need rescuing, but I keep thinking of better things to spend my money on. I'm kind of tight that way.
I thought about reading a book, but I've started three different ones and none of them are holding my interest. I actually contemplated reading Twilight. Again. Because I still like it, and I can put it down and not let it consume my life like I do with some books. Bookworm and I drive the other two members of our family crazy because we will read and block out everything they are saying and whatever is going on around us. We are both bookish that way.
I guess I'm down to telling you a story. Last week we were eating lunch at Braum's after Studmuffin had picked the girls up from a slumber party. We had went to see "Captain America" the night before even though I was on call, and then wandered through Bricktown and decided to eat at a Cajun restaurant. We waited over an hour for a table, but it was okay because we weren't paying a sitter and we weren't all that hungry. It was nice to sit and people watch and marvel at grown adults over indulging in drink, and just chat.
However, since I was on call I have to admit that my enjoyment of "Captain America" was tempered because I kept hoping my phone wouldn't go off and send me to the hospital. It didn't. I worried about the same thing when I realized after waiting 45 minutes for a table that we were a good ten minute walk from our car, and we were downtown on a weekend, and even though I was theoretically five minutes from the hospital, the traffic would be a night mare...And what if we finally got a table, and then got our food and they called me! Or, worse yet we ORDERED our food, but I got called and it wasn't ready, but we still had to pay because they had already begun preparation...
But I never got called so all that fretting was for nothing! Pfpfpfpf
So. We were eating lunch at Braum's. The girls asked how our evening was, and were relieved to learn that we had enjoyed a date night, and I had even avoided showing my unmentionables to any random strangers...
I asked them about their sleepover and they said they had played "Truth or Dare." They had been shocked to learn how many girls claim to have already had a first kiss. You do realize my kids are going in to 4th and 6th grade. So the age group ranged in those grades. And too many of them had already given away their first kiss! "Don't go squandering your first kiss, girls. Save your kisses for your husband."
Yes. I have high hopes of them maintaining their purity on a level far above the world's standards. I have always told them you can never get back a first kiss, and what a disappointment to give it to the wrong boy! Naturally, my girls wanted to know when our first kisses were. Because apparently we have an entirely too open relationship with our girls. At least that was my first thought when Popcorn posed the question...Studmuffin immediately began to tease me that it was in 5th grade. "Not true. I was in 9th grade." His jaw dropped. It seems that he squandered his first kiss on the activity bus in 6th grade...As the result of a game of Truth or Dare no doubt!
So, we fessed up to the girls.
And they were both quiet and probably slightly disillusioned that we had not saved our first kisses for each other...
Then Bookworm decided to share her thoughts on the matter with us all. "Don't worry about me squandering kisses. All of the boys at my school are idiots."
Excellent.
Just excellent.
Popcorn had nothing to add. I am definitely going to keep my eye on that one.
I could go swim, but the girls are obsessed with Bookworm's new iPod. She is allowed use of it all day today, then it will be limited to one hour per day, excluding just listening to music. Because I'm mean that way.
Anyhoo, what this means to me is that nobody wants to go swimming with me, and I don't really WANT to go swim even though I should because it is good for me. But I'm just not feeling motivated that way today.
I could clip coupons. But I don't wanna, and the girls will need something to do while I'm at work tomorrow. That is a good chore for them to do, then I simply file them. Because I'm kind of lazy that way.
We had a slumber party this weekend, and I picked up after it yesterday, so there's really no housework to be done. I'm sure if I looked hard enough I could find something, but it's Sunday, and I'm pretty dead set against housework on Sunday. Unless I want to do it, but again, I'm kind of lazy feeling today.
I could go get a pedicure. I had planned on getting one with a friend yesterday. However, her daddy has been sick and she opted to spend the day with him, and I couldn't make myself go alone. Plus, I played in the pool with Popcorn yesterday for over two hours, and was wiped by the time we were done. My feet need rescuing, but I keep thinking of better things to spend my money on. I'm kind of tight that way.
I thought about reading a book, but I've started three different ones and none of them are holding my interest. I actually contemplated reading Twilight. Again. Because I still like it, and I can put it down and not let it consume my life like I do with some books. Bookworm and I drive the other two members of our family crazy because we will read and block out everything they are saying and whatever is going on around us. We are both bookish that way.
I guess I'm down to telling you a story. Last week we were eating lunch at Braum's after Studmuffin had picked the girls up from a slumber party. We had went to see "Captain America" the night before even though I was on call, and then wandered through Bricktown and decided to eat at a Cajun restaurant. We waited over an hour for a table, but it was okay because we weren't paying a sitter and we weren't all that hungry. It was nice to sit and people watch and marvel at grown adults over indulging in drink, and just chat.
However, since I was on call I have to admit that my enjoyment of "Captain America" was tempered because I kept hoping my phone wouldn't go off and send me to the hospital. It didn't. I worried about the same thing when I realized after waiting 45 minutes for a table that we were a good ten minute walk from our car, and we were downtown on a weekend, and even though I was theoretically five minutes from the hospital, the traffic would be a night mare...And what if we finally got a table, and then got our food and they called me! Or, worse yet we ORDERED our food, but I got called and it wasn't ready, but we still had to pay because they had already begun preparation...
But I never got called so all that fretting was for nothing! Pfpfpfpf
So. We were eating lunch at Braum's. The girls asked how our evening was, and were relieved to learn that we had enjoyed a date night, and I had even avoided showing my unmentionables to any random strangers...
I asked them about their sleepover and they said they had played "Truth or Dare." They had been shocked to learn how many girls claim to have already had a first kiss. You do realize my kids are going in to 4th and 6th grade. So the age group ranged in those grades. And too many of them had already given away their first kiss! "Don't go squandering your first kiss, girls. Save your kisses for your husband."
Yes. I have high hopes of them maintaining their purity on a level far above the world's standards. I have always told them you can never get back a first kiss, and what a disappointment to give it to the wrong boy! Naturally, my girls wanted to know when our first kisses were. Because apparently we have an entirely too open relationship with our girls. At least that was my first thought when Popcorn posed the question...Studmuffin immediately began to tease me that it was in 5th grade. "Not true. I was in 9th grade." His jaw dropped. It seems that he squandered his first kiss on the activity bus in 6th grade...As the result of a game of Truth or Dare no doubt!
So, we fessed up to the girls.
And they were both quiet and probably slightly disillusioned that we had not saved our first kisses for each other...
Then Bookworm decided to share her thoughts on the matter with us all. "Don't worry about me squandering kisses. All of the boys at my school are idiots."
Excellent.
Just excellent.
Popcorn had nothing to add. I am definitely going to keep my eye on that one.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
In Your Face? Maybe so.
I had a reader send me an email a while back. She said she thought she might be friends with me, but she was unsure as I seem to be an "in your face" Christian. I was shocked. She was basing this on my old side bar that had steps of how to become a Christian. I was actually tired of that sidebar and had been thinking of changing it for months, but couldn't come up with anything...
Anyway, that sidebar was basically a spin off of the "ABCs" that our church teaches every single child that walks through the door during Vacation Bible School. Call me crazy, but if it's unoffensive to children, I think that adults can handle it. Other than maybe kids are more willing to admit they've done wrong and the only way they can ever get to heaven is acknowledging that they have sinned and they need a savior. (Romans 3:23)
But that is not what this post is about. This post is about conversations at work. Conversations that perhaps paint me as an "in your face" Christian.
One of my coworkers was asking how to join our church, "Do you have to take a class or something?" My response led to a discussion about salvation, and my belief that once saved, you can never lose your salvation. It is always secure. (Romans 8:35-39, and here's a great article on secure salvation) God promises us an eternity spent with Him in heaven...
I guess that's a pretty bold conversation to have in front of a mixed crowd.
Yesterday I had a very trying patient. He did not want to be there. He was adamant that nothing was wrong with his dialysis graft, and that we were wasting his time. I told him that if the dialysis unit was wrong, then he could go gloat to them, but if they were right, he would be glad we saved it before it failed completely. There were many, many conversations with him that day. Trying conversations. Conversations where I struggled to be patient and kind...
When we were back in the procedure room, and I was getting the patient situated with monitors and warm blankets, and asking my last minute safety questions (which I had already asked as soon as he arrived, but we double check in procedure) he began to be belligerent and confrontational saying he'd already answered those questions and he wasn't a liar, so I needed to quit asking the same questions over and over...
The doctor walked in. "Andi, would you like to do a time out now?"
Translation: Would you like to do the time out (a safety tool where we all verbalize what procedure is being done and I compare the information with the patient ID band and consent form to be sure we are all doing the right procedure) so you can give this fellow some sedation and SHUT HIM UP?
At least, that's how I interpreted his wink and smile...
So, I gave the patient his sedation.
A few minutes into the procedure I realized I'd forgot to offer up prayer before we started, so I just paused a moment in what I was doing and said a quick blessing over the patient...
Fast forward about 20 minutes into the procedure. The doctor had failed to mention he was about to stretch open a narrow spot in the fistula. Or I hadn't heard him say it, which is a real possibility. Angioplasty in a dialysis fistula is very painful. There is really nothing I can do to make it not painful, other than a dollop more of pain medicine mixed with some Versed to make him forget he ever felt it...
He woke up when that balloon inflated and started yelling and was very angry because he claims we said it "wouldn't hurt." Which is totally untrue. We would never say that because, as I said, angioplasty hurts. You can't numb the inside of vein walls.
I gave him a little more medicine. He went back to sleep. And this time I tried to be more diligent about watching my monitor, the patient, and to see if the doctor had the tool out for angioplasty (I do not remember the name.)
I noticed he was reaching for it. I asked if I could premedicate before he stretched. "Sure. I know you don't want to have him wake up again." Again the wink and smile.
"No. This is just me being Jesus here."
"BEING Jesus? What does that mean?"
"Now, don't go thinking I'm being blasphemous. That's not what I was saying. As a Christian, I'm to be the hands and feet of Jesus to those around me. (Philippians 2:3-7) That includes taking good care of my patients and making sure they don't feel/remember when we hurt them. You know, show the world who Jesus is."
He looked at me slightly askance.
"Testify, Andi. Testify," the scrubbed in radiology tech said.
And the doctor had no comment to offer to that.
So....
In hindsight maybe I am an "in your face" Christian. If being an "in your face" Christian means I pray with patients before procedures, and any time I sense they are scared or nervous about results. I talk about my relationship with Jesus, and what He is talking to me about right now. I put up index cards with the memory verse I'm working on memorizing next to the computer at the nurses station. I talk to my coworkers about what Jesus means to me, and I will call us out to "have a little Jesus in our hearts" when we are being cranky and having a rough day.
I guess if you take those things into consideration...I must be a pretty "in your face" Christian.
And I'm okay with that.
As a Christian, I'm called to be like Christ. Loving. Gentle. Compassionate.
But Christ was also honest. He did not worry about offending people when He called them to Him.
Sometimes I think as Christians we struggle with sharing the gospel, for fear that we will offend someone. I worry that they will say I'm being self righteous or judgmental by saying "There is only one way to heaven." But that is the truth. The Bible clearly says "No man may come to the Father except through me." (John 14:6-9) Translation: The only way to heaven is through Jesus. And Jesus calls us to confess our sins and profess Him as our Savior and Lord.
If we claim Christ as the savior of our lives, yet fail to share that salvation message with others around us, then we are failing to do what Christ commanded us to do. (Mark 16:15) If I proclaim Christ is my savior, yet fail to show love to those around me, I'm failing to do what Christ called me to do. (John 13:34-35) If I proclaim Christ as my savior, and yet do not do my job to the best of my ability, (Colossians 3:23) giving God glory in every part of it, then I'm not doing what I was called to do.
Christ paid the debt for my sins. He took the burden of my sins, even though I did NOTHING to deserve salvation, and carried them to the cross. (Romans 5:8) Because of His faithfulness and love, I have the promise of eternity in heaven. He did not promise that the journey to heaven as a follower of Christ would be easy. He promised me the exact opposite. The Bible promises trials of all kinds. And it promises strength to get through those trials. (Philippians 4:13)
Not an easy journey. Strength for the journey. (2 Corinthians 12:9)
So. That's what God is talking about with me lately. What's God been saying to you lately?
Anyway, that sidebar was basically a spin off of the "ABCs" that our church teaches every single child that walks through the door during Vacation Bible School. Call me crazy, but if it's unoffensive to children, I think that adults can handle it. Other than maybe kids are more willing to admit they've done wrong and the only way they can ever get to heaven is acknowledging that they have sinned and they need a savior. (Romans 3:23)
But that is not what this post is about. This post is about conversations at work. Conversations that perhaps paint me as an "in your face" Christian.
One of my coworkers was asking how to join our church, "Do you have to take a class or something?" My response led to a discussion about salvation, and my belief that once saved, you can never lose your salvation. It is always secure. (Romans 8:35-39, and here's a great article on secure salvation) God promises us an eternity spent with Him in heaven...
I guess that's a pretty bold conversation to have in front of a mixed crowd.
Yesterday I had a very trying patient. He did not want to be there. He was adamant that nothing was wrong with his dialysis graft, and that we were wasting his time. I told him that if the dialysis unit was wrong, then he could go gloat to them, but if they were right, he would be glad we saved it before it failed completely. There were many, many conversations with him that day. Trying conversations. Conversations where I struggled to be patient and kind...
When we were back in the procedure room, and I was getting the patient situated with monitors and warm blankets, and asking my last minute safety questions (which I had already asked as soon as he arrived, but we double check in procedure) he began to be belligerent and confrontational saying he'd already answered those questions and he wasn't a liar, so I needed to quit asking the same questions over and over...
The doctor walked in. "Andi, would you like to do a time out now?"
Translation: Would you like to do the time out (a safety tool where we all verbalize what procedure is being done and I compare the information with the patient ID band and consent form to be sure we are all doing the right procedure) so you can give this fellow some sedation and SHUT HIM UP?
At least, that's how I interpreted his wink and smile...
So, I gave the patient his sedation.
A few minutes into the procedure I realized I'd forgot to offer up prayer before we started, so I just paused a moment in what I was doing and said a quick blessing over the patient...
Fast forward about 20 minutes into the procedure. The doctor had failed to mention he was about to stretch open a narrow spot in the fistula. Or I hadn't heard him say it, which is a real possibility. Angioplasty in a dialysis fistula is very painful. There is really nothing I can do to make it not painful, other than a dollop more of pain medicine mixed with some Versed to make him forget he ever felt it...
He woke up when that balloon inflated and started yelling and was very angry because he claims we said it "wouldn't hurt." Which is totally untrue. We would never say that because, as I said, angioplasty hurts. You can't numb the inside of vein walls.
I gave him a little more medicine. He went back to sleep. And this time I tried to be more diligent about watching my monitor, the patient, and to see if the doctor had the tool out for angioplasty (I do not remember the name.)
I noticed he was reaching for it. I asked if I could premedicate before he stretched. "Sure. I know you don't want to have him wake up again." Again the wink and smile.
"No. This is just me being Jesus here."
"BEING Jesus? What does that mean?"
"Now, don't go thinking I'm being blasphemous. That's not what I was saying. As a Christian, I'm to be the hands and feet of Jesus to those around me. (Philippians 2:3-7) That includes taking good care of my patients and making sure they don't feel/remember when we hurt them. You know, show the world who Jesus is."
He looked at me slightly askance.
"Testify, Andi. Testify," the scrubbed in radiology tech said.
And the doctor had no comment to offer to that.
So....
In hindsight maybe I am an "in your face" Christian. If being an "in your face" Christian means I pray with patients before procedures, and any time I sense they are scared or nervous about results. I talk about my relationship with Jesus, and what He is talking to me about right now. I put up index cards with the memory verse I'm working on memorizing next to the computer at the nurses station. I talk to my coworkers about what Jesus means to me, and I will call us out to "have a little Jesus in our hearts" when we are being cranky and having a rough day.
I guess if you take those things into consideration...I must be a pretty "in your face" Christian.
And I'm okay with that.
As a Christian, I'm called to be like Christ. Loving. Gentle. Compassionate.
But Christ was also honest. He did not worry about offending people when He called them to Him.
Sometimes I think as Christians we struggle with sharing the gospel, for fear that we will offend someone. I worry that they will say I'm being self righteous or judgmental by saying "There is only one way to heaven." But that is the truth. The Bible clearly says "No man may come to the Father except through me." (John 14:6-9) Translation: The only way to heaven is through Jesus. And Jesus calls us to confess our sins and profess Him as our Savior and Lord.
If we claim Christ as the savior of our lives, yet fail to share that salvation message with others around us, then we are failing to do what Christ commanded us to do. (Mark 16:15) If I proclaim Christ is my savior, yet fail to show love to those around me, I'm failing to do what Christ called me to do. (John 13:34-35) If I proclaim Christ as my savior, and yet do not do my job to the best of my ability, (Colossians 3:23) giving God glory in every part of it, then I'm not doing what I was called to do.
Christ paid the debt for my sins. He took the burden of my sins, even though I did NOTHING to deserve salvation, and carried them to the cross. (Romans 5:8) Because of His faithfulness and love, I have the promise of eternity in heaven. He did not promise that the journey to heaven as a follower of Christ would be easy. He promised me the exact opposite. The Bible promises trials of all kinds. And it promises strength to get through those trials. (Philippians 4:13)
Not an easy journey. Strength for the journey. (2 Corinthians 12:9)
So. That's what God is talking about with me lately. What's God been saying to you lately?
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Quotes
Studmuffin: What's for dinner tonight?
Me: It's Thursday.
Studmuffin: Pizza night?
Bookworm: Praise the LORD!
And she meant it.
Watching American Idol Wednesday Night:
Popcorn: Is that one judge guy a retired rock star?
Me: Steven Tyler?
Popcorn: Yeah. The long haired one.
Me: Baby, there is no such thing as a retired rock star. Once a rock star, always a rock star.
Studmuffin: Your mom is secretly in love with him.
Me: No I'm not. But I have to admit I find him strangely attractive....
This is me. Sorry but it's true....
American Idol Thursday Night:
Popcorn: I'm pretty sure I can win American Idol.
Oh, the confidence of youth!
The kids have been wondering what Steven Tyler sings. Call me crazy, but I haven't whipped out my Aerosmith tapes for them...I shudder to think of them busting out, "Love in an elevator! Livin' it up when I'm goin' down." Or how about "Dude looks like a lady!"
*Shudder*
Friday Morning, rushing around to get to the bus on time:
Popcorn was given the task of feeding the dog and cat, her sister was waiting in the car. I was scrambling about, grabbing cell phone, pager, and whatnot...Popcorn was struggling turning the doorknob with her gloves on.
Popcorn: Curse you gloves!
Really? A nine year old cursing her gloves? I think this may be evidence of avid reading...At least that's what I'm going with.
I am choosing to ignore Dr. Doofenschmirtz role in this whole dialogue. Never let it be said that we watch an excessive amount of Phineas & Ferb..."Curse you Perry the Platypus!"
Now, I know I posted this conversation on Facebook, but it is one of those great mom moments...
We were at a quick stop on the way home from my grandmama's funeral. It had been a long day. We walked into this quick stop and they had one of those little restaurant things that are found only in convenience stores. You know what I mean? They have the big stainless shelves with heat lamps on them, and they hold such wonders as pizza pockets, fried burritos, egg rolls, chicken livers and gizzards...
This particular store even added barbecue sandwiches and a cooler area with chicken salad and tuna salad sandwiches and these gargantuan chef salads. I opted for that ginormous salad. Seriously. It was so good and so fresh and I could barely even finish it!
Popcorn did not want food. She only wanted Fritos. I felt she should learn about the joyous wonders of a deep fried pizza pocket...
Me: Baby Girl, it's been a long day & I'm not cooking when we get home. If you choose to eat Fritos then that's your dinner.
She opted to buy an over priced Lunchable to go along with her Fritos. And can I just say that we still have that dad gum bag of Fritos in the pantry? Oh, and we did buy a pizza pocket and all four of us shared it. The girls agreed that their lives had been sorely lacking without that little gem in their culinary experience.
Yep, that's me! Expanding my kids culinary palate at every opportunity!
Next we will move on to chittlin's and cracklings!
Attention: I do not think I used culinary correctly in this post. At all. But, it is late and my brain is tired...So culinary it is!
But I must ask one burning question: What do they call them in your part of the world? Chittlin's? Chitterlingis? Chittlings? Inquiring minds want to know...
Me: It's Thursday.
Studmuffin: Pizza night?
Bookworm: Praise the LORD!
And she meant it.
Watching American Idol Wednesday Night:
Popcorn: Is that one judge guy a retired rock star?
Me: Steven Tyler?
Popcorn: Yeah. The long haired one.
Me: Baby, there is no such thing as a retired rock star. Once a rock star, always a rock star.
Studmuffin: Your mom is secretly in love with him.
Me: No I'm not. But I have to admit I find him strangely attractive....
This is me. Sorry but it's true....
American Idol Thursday Night:
Popcorn: I'm pretty sure I can win American Idol.
Oh, the confidence of youth!
The kids have been wondering what Steven Tyler sings. Call me crazy, but I haven't whipped out my Aerosmith tapes for them...I shudder to think of them busting out, "Love in an elevator! Livin' it up when I'm goin' down." Or how about "Dude looks like a lady!"
*Shudder*
Friday Morning, rushing around to get to the bus on time:
Popcorn was given the task of feeding the dog and cat, her sister was waiting in the car. I was scrambling about, grabbing cell phone, pager, and whatnot...Popcorn was struggling turning the doorknob with her gloves on.
Popcorn: Curse you gloves!
Really? A nine year old cursing her gloves? I think this may be evidence of avid reading...At least that's what I'm going with.
I am choosing to ignore Dr. Doofenschmirtz role in this whole dialogue. Never let it be said that we watch an excessive amount of Phineas & Ferb..."Curse you Perry the Platypus!"
Now, I know I posted this conversation on Facebook, but it is one of those great mom moments...
We were at a quick stop on the way home from my grandmama's funeral. It had been a long day. We walked into this quick stop and they had one of those little restaurant things that are found only in convenience stores. You know what I mean? They have the big stainless shelves with heat lamps on them, and they hold such wonders as pizza pockets, fried burritos, egg rolls, chicken livers and gizzards...
This particular store even added barbecue sandwiches and a cooler area with chicken salad and tuna salad sandwiches and these gargantuan chef salads. I opted for that ginormous salad. Seriously. It was so good and so fresh and I could barely even finish it!
Popcorn did not want food. She only wanted Fritos. I felt she should learn about the joyous wonders of a deep fried pizza pocket...
Me: Baby Girl, it's been a long day & I'm not cooking when we get home. If you choose to eat Fritos then that's your dinner.
She opted to buy an over priced Lunchable to go along with her Fritos. And can I just say that we still have that dad gum bag of Fritos in the pantry? Oh, and we did buy a pizza pocket and all four of us shared it. The girls agreed that their lives had been sorely lacking without that little gem in their culinary experience.
Yep, that's me! Expanding my kids culinary palate at every opportunity!
Next we will move on to chittlin's and cracklings!
Attention: I do not think I used culinary correctly in this post. At all. But, it is late and my brain is tired...So culinary it is!
But I must ask one burning question: What do they call them in your part of the world? Chittlin's? Chitterlingis? Chittlings? Inquiring minds want to know...
Monday, November 8, 2010
DO CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS IN ALL OF THE STORES MEAN IT'S TOO LATE FOR A HALLOWEEN POST?
Our community had trick or treating on the 30th. We had some friends over for feasting on chili dogs, s'mores, bean soup, and coconut cake, and homemade popcorn balls, followed by trick or treating. Because how tragic if we didn't get enough treats for the evening!
Guess what? I didn't take any pictures of my kids in costume.
Because, clearly. Nobody finds that remotely interesting. And, I'm pretty sure my kids will NEVER want to reminisce about costumes of yore.
And Studmuffin admiring his creation.
And this dog begging for a s'more.
An, the next day I took pictures of the girls pumpkins. Popcorn's is a kitty. Bookworm stuck with the traditional jack-o-lantern face.
I saved my pumpkin to make pumpkin puree.
'Cause I'm just homey that way.
As per usual, Studmuffin's was a reflection of death and destruction.
'Cause he's just redneck that way.
I will finish this highly informative post with a quote from Bookworm as we were eating chili this week. She was reaching for her third bowl. "You can take the girl out of Texas, but you can't take the Texas out of the girl."
Amen and Amen.
Guess what? I didn't take any pictures of my kids in costume.
Because, clearly. Nobody finds that remotely interesting. And, I'm pretty sure my kids will NEVER want to reminisce about costumes of yore.
That being said, I did take pictures of Bookworm and her friend playing in the fire.
And Studmuffin admiring his creation.
And this dog begging for a s'more.
An, the next day I took pictures of the girls pumpkins. Popcorn's is a kitty. Bookworm stuck with the traditional jack-o-lantern face.
I saved my pumpkin to make pumpkin puree.
'Cause I'm just homey that way.
As per usual, Studmuffin's was a reflection of death and destruction.
'Cause he's just redneck that way.
I will finish this highly informative post with a quote from Bookworm as we were eating chili this week. She was reaching for her third bowl. "You can take the girl out of Texas, but you can't take the Texas out of the girl."
Amen and Amen.
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