The Yankees are com ... having me over for Christmas?

I'm getting a little bit nervous. We leave for my first Christmas away from home tomorrow. I love BJ's family (and my new family), but I know I will miss my good ol' biological fam. Hope I don't run up the roam minutes too much.

As soon as we get back from Illinois on Thursday, we will leave early Friday for my best friend's wedding. Theresa was my Maid of Honor five months ago(I can't believe it's been five months), and I will be her Matron of Honor next Saturday. I am so excited! But this could mean over a week until I get to blog again. (sad face).

On the brighter note, I just got my final grades in, and I managed to pull my 77 in Spanish to an A and maintained my 4.0. BJ is so irritated. He wants me to make a B or a C so badly he has actually bribed me with nice dates. Apparantly I'm missing out on something in life by always being so darn perfect.

But in a slight digression from my perfection, I received an e-mail today that I am on chapel probation. Apparently, they missed my exemption papers. I'll be fighting that battle when I get back.

It's official!

Well, it's official. BJ's a preacher for Nugent. And I'm a preacher's wife. God is funny.

But seriously, we're really, really happy. They're a great church, and it feels like home. It is all older people, except for one family with three ridiculously cute kids. The men were really nice when they asked BJ if he wanted to take the position. We both feel very honored.

The best part of the morning, though, was when BJ managed to fit the word diva into his sermon. Not only did he use the word diva, but he also used it has a descriptor for a prophet. That's right. Jonah's a diva.

Bad habits acquired in college

As we (when I say we, I mean my friends, family, and regular blog readers) know, Pierces are a little bit crazy. Just a tad.

So today, I was about to drive away from my brother's house where I park for school when he pulled up from giving his classes their final. I roll down my window, and he asks me, "What's ya having for lunch." I replied that I was having pickle flavored Lay's potato chips (my newest strange food item discovery that I quite enjoy). Bro chuckled and said that he was having Barbecue flavored Lay's chips. So we both went to our houses and had exceptionally mal-nutritious lunches.

A Decent Job

Finally, BJ has a job that is okay. I knew everything would be alright this time when after two weeks he was still saying "pretty good" when I asked him how his day had gone.

As I look back on the past five months of financial scares and horrible employment, I can honestly say I would not trade those months for anything. We learned a lot, and grew a lot closer. And now that there is actually money to spend on a blizzard from Dairy Queen, the ice cream tastes better than it ever did before.

Perhaps the most shocking aspect of our sudden contentment is that is blows away many of the truths I believed in concerning college. I thought that we went to college to get an education that would get us a job in a certain we would find fulfilling so that on our death beds we could say we did something. But what I've learned is that if BJ ends up being an electrician's apprentice for the rest of his life, that does not in anyway reflect on the value of his life. He is building relationships with his fellow workers at Watson Electric, and it's satisfying for him, and I love hearing the stories he brings home about those men.

It always bothered me when people looked down on manual laborers. My father is a maintence man at a nursing home, but I garuntee that he has meant more in the lives of those elderly people than almost any highly educated social worker. He has taken a job some might label insignificant and used it in a way that leaves me in awe and humbled.

So, yes, my husband is an electrician's apprentice with a Master's in Divinity. And I am so proud of him.

Yikes!!!

Today at work, I kept making a whole lot of mistakes. Why? Because I had just found out the exact date of my Senior art show: January the 26th. It is the first show of the year, and I am so nervous. This means no Christmas break for me. I will be working on art projects ALOT. But I'm excited. Or at least, I think I am.

Shame on me

I have great regret in announcing that I bonded with annoying English major guy. We found common ground in making fun of the education department. We were making fun of the posters in an old education department room where we have class. I feel so ashamed of my moment of elitism. But is was kind of funny.

The Pierce curse and a beautiful day

If you know my brother or read his blog (sharetheboredom.blogspot), then you know that there is a Pierce curse. Our family, for know particular reason, has incredibly bad luck (along with being so forgetful and absent-minded that we often bring the bad luck unto ourselves).

This week, I discovered that taking the Gensic name does not erase the Pierce curse. It is in my blood, and now BJ is suffuring because of it.

It all started Monday night when we decided to go buy our first Christmas tree and decorate our little apartment. We picked out a 6 foot Douglas Fir tree (it's georgous) and some really cool ornaments. Then we came home so excited we actually attempted singing Christmas carols. But, of course, when we got home the first thing that happened was BJ went to unplug the tree, and it blew the fuse to the entire front half of our home. So we immediately had to go back to Walmart to get a fuse.

Then the curse continued last night when we decided to go on a walk, and after two blocks, started getting rained on (with really, really cold rain.) Now, I'll admit we were pretty stupid to even attempt a walk in the first place since it was about 30 degrees outside. We turned back immediatly, got back to our front door shaking and shivering only to find we had locked ourselves out. We tried multiple ways of breaking into our home, and both thankfully and unfortunately, our house is pretty dang secure. So we went over to my brother's, called a lock smith, and paid forty bucks to get back inside.

So, why is their "a beautiful day" in my title? My most leastest, horriblest, awfulest classes was canceled this morning due to winter storms!!!!!!!!! I HATE Spanish. Also, I didn't do all my reading for a quiz today in Art History, but now my grade doesn't have to suffer. I guess maybe God was feeling bad about the whole Pierce curse thing, and decided to give me a couple of perks today!

Wedding pictures picked at random

Well, I got my wedding pictures in today. And they're georgous. And I've looked at them about a million times. And then some. Here's a few randomly picked among the number file names since I can't figure out how to see them before I download them. I know, I'm incompetent.

This is one of me getting ready. I love this one.

My family! I love them! I love this picture!

Oh my goodness! That picture is awesome, too!

I love BJ! I love wedding pictures!

Mmh, cake! Mmh, pictures!

On that note, I need to wake up in the morning, so I probably need to sleep as well.

Sometimes, I think I hate English majors

In my poetry class, there is this one guy who absolutely embodies everything that is annoying about English majors (for the record, I love a good number of English majors, including my brother and Kayla, but about forty percent of English majors are irritating). So anyways, this guy has never really been a fan of my poetry, primarily because it is understandable and not so lofty you have to have the author give a fifteen minute explanation to find out what it means. Tonight, we workshopped his poem. I actually understood this poem and liked it, unlike his last two (one of which was his interpretation of a Jackson Pollock painting translated into poetry. Now really? He didn't even use colors Pollock used.) But then he ruined this brief moment of me being a good Christian who likes English majors when he started defending his decision to not put an s on the end of a word that needed to be plural for clarity's sake. It's an s! Who care?

A story about Sienna...

...so you know it has to be gross.

The other day, Tony threw up in the office room. I gathered up all of my cleaning supplies to go take care of the mess. When I went back to the office, the puke had already been cleaned up.

Once again, dogs are disgusting.

Gotcha!!!!!

Well, BJ has really had a knack here lately for saying the wrong thing (take, for instance, my last post). Last night, he really stuck his foot in his mouth. It was great. Or at least, it was for me.

I have the reputation in our little household of being the messy one, and, granted, I have at times earned this reputation. So last night, BJ saw an opportunity to poke fun at my tendencies when he found a pair of my boot socks out on our dresser. I was getting in bed when he pointed at them, and I quickly said, "Oh, those are clean. I was about...uh...to put them up." He smuggly picked up the socks and threw them into my cabinet, at which point I smiled and pointed behind him. What he failed to notice when he found my socks on the dresser is that also occupying dresser space was a clean pair of his jogging pants and four pairs of clean boxers. Needless to say, he looked a little sheepish after that one. HA HA HA!!!!!!!!!

What ever made you think that would be a good thing to say?

Tonight I was trying on my bridesmaid's dress for Theresa's wedding to see if it needed alterations. I came into the computer room to model it for BJ. We were discussing what needed altered, and I mentioned how nice the dress looks in the chest area (it has some really pretty gathers). BJ's reply was "Yeah, for once it doesn't look too big." As a fairly self conscious A-cup, I froze. Then BJ froze when he realized what a stupid thing he had just said. Of course, he immediately started trying to remedy the situation be saying what he meant to say, to which I replied, "Next time you want to compliment me, don't try to be clever."

an old church and an old soul

BJ preached at Nugent again today, and it looks like we're in the running for the job. We really want it, and this time it isn't just for the money. This time, we want the job because the people are amazing. During the main prayer in the morning service, the man who was praying started thanking God for all of the people in the church who had been helping him out this week around his house with jobs he never thought he would need help with. Apparantly, old age is just now really starting to catch up with him. He became very emotional during the prayer, and so did the people of the congregation who had been helping him. It was refreshing to see weakness expressed and shared instead of hidden in shame.

I also had one of those wow-I-love-BJ moments today. BJ is a fairly unconventional guy: I mean, I had to warn my parents about his earring before he came home with me for the first time. And he's fairly technical and modern in that he built his own computer and keeps up with all the newest computer technology. Also, he's liberal and nontraditional on most of his opinions, ecspecially in the church. But, today, when he had a cold and kept having to blow his nose, he used a cloth hankerchief. The last time I saw a man use a cloth hankerchief was my Grandpa Pierce: my Dad is way too young for those. I love how in unexpected, random moments, I get a peak at a really old, beautiful soul in my husband.

Awkward questions

This past weekend was my best friend, Theresa's, big wedding shower in Menard. Of course, I was excited to go see Theresa and my family, so I had a blast. The only bad part was the very thing I knew was inevitable before I left Abilene. You see, I had an almost identical shower with most of the same people about six months ago, so I knew what everyone would be asking me this time around: "So how is married life?", or for those who are creative, "How's married life treatin' you?" I hate this question. It is so loaded. Everything about their expressions says: "Newly weds have a lot of sex. I bet you're having a lot of wild, crazy sex." And since I know this is what they're thinking, I feel really awkward saying "Married life is great" because what they hear is "I have a great sex life", which I do, but that is beside the point. This post is even getting awkward. I am going to end it now.

An afternoon snack

I just got home, and it seems as though BJ accidently left Sienna out of the kennel. No one has been home for about 6 hours, so Sienna has had free reign for a while. There is unusual amounts of kitty litter all over the floor of the guest bedroom, more kitty litter that Tony could ever drag out of that covered box. So I think I know what Sienna has been up to. BJ's dog is disgusting.

I'm a preacher's wife, and I think I like it

Please forgive me, but I am going to take a moment to brag on my husband. I never heard BJ preach until after we were married, and before then all I had ever heard was how he never wanted to be a preacher. Well, since then, BJ has preached at several small congregations in order to pick up some deperately needed money. What I keep finding myself amazed by is what a knack BJ has for preaching. Now I know I'm probably biased, being his wife and all, but I'm really harsh when it comes to sermons. Even the preacher who did our wedding said he sat in his office wandering what I might like for the sermon in our ceremony because he knew I was so picky. This being said, BJ keeps passing all my test.

Yesterday morning, we traveled to Nugent for a preaching gig at a predominantly elderly twenty-person congregation. In the morning service, BJ opened his sermon by talking about the TV show Thirty Days. In an episode from this show, a pro-choice woman goes to live with a pro-life, Christian clinic. The youth group for the church there passed out horrendous pictures of cut fetuses to people on the street. The congregation also stood at abortion clinic practically harrassing those entering. The woman was appalled at the confrontational spirit with which these Christians tried to prove their point. BJ told this story and then paralleled it with Micah, eventually hinging the sermon on Micah 6:8, "And what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God". BJ challenged a room full of fundamentalist, rural Texan Christians to uphold their faith not through confrontation, but through peace. I was so proud of him.

Later, at the night service, BJ read Genesis 1. I was a little disappointed when he said that was what he was going to preach on because I have heard so many bad sermons on this chapter, but BJ actually did manage to make me think about it in a way that had never even remotely occured to me. He read and told the creation narratives from a couple of the Mesopotamian cultures that were writing their own narratives around the same time Gensis was written. In all of these narratives, violence is a part of the creation process. He then juxtoposed these narratives with Genesis one. Suddenly, the simple statements of "God saw that it was good" took on a new beauty and peace that I had never seen before. For the first time, I really saw the nature of God in that passage.

I've also been amazed by the reception these small churches have given us. I wander what they think when this guy with an earring and wife who looks about fourteen walks in to preach to them? An yet, at the end of a fairly liberal sermon, the people at Nugent complimented BJ profusely, invited us back, told us how they had never gotten that much out of Micah (I don't know if I had ever read it all the way through), and took us out to Dairy Queen. Isn't it just mind boggling how God has the power to close age gaps, culture gaps, and even the gap between generally conservative and generally liberal people when we practice our faith with peace and love? Due to a few sour apples in my home congregation, I have often viewed small, rural Churches of Christ as the enemy to the view of Christianity I hold. But, thankfully, God has shown me in the past few months in places like Nugent and Oplin what a gift these brothers and sisters of mine are.

Mi familia esta loco

I just completed Spanish homework, and I'm happy to announce that I've got a lot of check marks on my to-do list. However, I can't remember there ever being a weekend in these past few days. It was one big blur of homework.

The good news is that the wedding was tonight, and it went really well. Dad and I had a lot of fun playing the piano. It was an outdoor wedding, so when one of us was playing, the other one would keep the music from blowing away using a nifty concoction of clip boards.

It was great having Dad in town for the past day and a half. It makes for some really good Gospel Advocate bashing, Democrat praising, and a whole lot of politically incorrect statements. Of course, this is especially refreshing being that it is all said from a rural Texan, Church of Christ guy who should hate the Democrats and love the Gospel Advocate. The best part is seeing Mom try to keep Dad, Bro, and BJ from saying all the things they say simply to make her cringe. I love my parents.

My life is one big to-do list

I can sum up the past week in three words: I did homework. That is a sad life. And to top it off, here is the must-have-done-by-Tuesday list:

read two books of poetry
write a paper on each book
write four poems (last time this took about four hours)
read 42 additional poems and write down at least one favorite line from each poem
write an essay in Spanish
read two (giganto) chapters in Art History
finish (a very unfinished) painting
study for Monday's mid-term exam in Art for Elementary teachers
make a pop-up card for the above class.

Let me clarify that this is not the should-do list. This is the must-have-done-by-Tuesday list.

Oh, and on top of all of this, I am playing the piano for a friends wedding Monday night, which, of course, means rehearsal on Sunday.

I should end this post with an optimistic "On the bright side..." paragraph. But I don't want to. So if I've ruined your day by complaining, go eat chocolate. At least, that's my plan. Then, I'm going to cuddle up with Tony and one of those books I'm supposed to be reading and fall asleep.

Mmm, prunes

Well, my posts have been rather harsh lately, so I've decided to revert back to my old standard of writing about gross bodily functions. (On this note, I really think Dr. Weather's would like this blog, which Bro and Kayla will both understand). Anyways, as I mentioned in my last post, stress causes constipation, and BJ and I have been under a bit of stress between losing jobs and not getting jobs. So this led us to the following conversation:

BJ: You need to eat prunes. One day when I was at Mom and Dad's house last summer I hate an entire bag of prunes. I was on the pot all day.
Kalyn (disgusted that she will be spending the rest of her life with this being): Only you would eat an entire bag of prunes.
BJ (defensive): Well, plums never did that to me.
Kalyn (as I said above, disgusted, buy also laughing): Yeah, when was the last time you ate 10 plums in one setting.

So even in the midst of near poverty and unemployment, the gross bodily functions God for some reason blessed us with allow for a little laughter.

I like gooey things

Well, he didn't get the job, so it's back to applying for about a bajillion a week (I like making up numbers).

I won't lie. It was pretty devistating for me after he got two call backs only to be turned down on Monday. I sniffled in my corner of the library while I was at work, and this time it wasn't because I was too cold. After ten months of BJ getting turned down for jobs, it is really hard to not wonder if God gives a...

But BJ has taken it amazingly well, again. His persistent contentment and hopefulness forces me to remember that God does indeed give a...

...and even a bit more than that. Today started out horribly. I couldn't hardly stay awake in my classes because I was up late at the hospital with a friend who went into a false labor of sorts. To make matters worse, I felt really sick (apparently, stress can be linked to constipation. Sorry for the rude detail). Anyways, so I was in Art History feeling sick and bruised from yesterday when I finally managed to wake up long enough to see some really beautiful Picasso paintings. As soon as class was let out, I ran upstairs in the Art building and worked for about two hours on the painting of a still life we are doing in one of my classes. It isn't due anytime soon, so it wasn't really necessary. But the gooey oil paint spreading over the course canvas felt so good, I couldn't stop. One day I'm going to look back on that painting and think how horrible it is since it is one of my first attempts, but I don't care. Today it was my therapist.

When you're mad at God and hoping He won't take it personally

Last week was rough. BJ got called into work, told that a mystery shopper had giving him a bad review, and was fired on the spot.

BJ actually took it better than me. Whereas I reacted by isolating myself as much as possible and internally arguing with God throughout the day, he just seemed to accept it as the will of God. Quite frankly, it was a little irritating in my begrudged state.

To make matters better or worse, depending on the mood I happen to be in at that particular moment, BJ has spent the past two weeks being interviewed and waiting, and being interviewed and waiting some more for an admissions counselor position at ACU. Last we heard, we should be finding out something solid this week. I'd like to think I'm an optimistic person, but, well, I'm not (or at least I wasn't last week), so this whole ACU job thing has just been making me nervous and sick to the stomach daily because it takes people so long to get results on jobs.

I packed up all of my bitterness and lugged it along with me to church this morning. It was heavy, but dang-it, I was bringing it. And of course, John Willis, the cute, sweet, eighty-something year old, theologian mastermind of Highland Church of Christ, reads Psalm 105 and says that we remember to get us through the times when we can't see God working.

And so I'm now forced to remember a post I did August the sixth entitled "How we paid our electricity bill this month" in which I knew and believed God had taken care of us. I have to embark on this coming week, for better or worse, and I am finding that it is quite difficult to trade in my bitterness for hope, but it seems worth it.

Smarty furr (hehe, that's clever)

The more I live with Tony, the more attributes I find he has somehow taken from me. Only, he has a way of putting his own little twist ono my own charming characteristics.

For example, Tony is an excellent pianist. Now, I don't know that I am excellent, but hopefully I'm good enough to play at my friend's wedding in two weeks, because I am definitely booked for that gig. Tony plays the piano anywhere from one to five times a day. Sometimes he hops up on the keys and walks around, always eventually ending up on the high notes picking one note at a time. Other times, he will just stand on his back legs and play with his front paws, each key carefully chosen. I know this sounds crazy, but there are discernible rythms in his playing.

Now, however, Tony is showing a propensity for artistic talent. Last weekend, while playing roughly with my brother, he actually scratched the word kill into Bro's arm. He even dotted the i, and I don't mean to brag, but his penmenship was quite nice. Tony is making his art major mom proud.

Tony, toilets, and bodily malfunctions

(CAUTION: This post is not for prudes. If you have any prudish tendencies or dislike stories that take place in bathrooms, I highly recommend you clicking your "Back" button and retreating from this page immediately.)

And now, for people like me who enjoy a good story about peeing every once in a while.

So the other day, I posted about the joys of owning a dog (entitled "Honey, I'm home..."). Well, today was Tony's shining moment.

This all took place when I had just come home from school and was getting ready to go to McDonald's with BJ for a rushed meal before embarking on homework. BJ was using the restroom when, suddenly, I heard BJ irritably grumble, "Tony, I can't pee when your doing that." Apparently, Tony licking BJ's foot while BJ is poised at the toilet causes malfunctions in the whole system. And these are the joys of owning a cat.

Honey, I'm home...

...is what I wish I heard tonight when BJ returned at 10:30 p.m. after a long day at work. But, no. Instead, I heard, "Stop sniffing my crotch." And these are the joys of having a dog.

That's lame

Tonight, BJ had a not-quite-the-knight-in-shining-armor moment. He offered to help me do the dishes, but I was at one of those stages when it's a one man job, so I told him I would tell him when stuff needed dried. BJ went to the futon and started playing a videogame in which the goal is to cause high amounts of monetary damage in car crashes. About fifteen minutes later, BJ asked if I was ready, and I replied that I had everything under control. To which he replied, "Are you sure? Okay," and returned to crashing car. There was so short a pause between the question and the okay that I didn't have time to blink much less consider whether or not I was really sure. When I laughingly pointed this out to BJ, he just sheepishly said, "Yeah, that was kind of lame." At least he is willing to admit it.

I can see it...

Tonight, I watched Tony in pursuit of a bug for about ten minutes. I realize this should be a fairly insignificant statement for a pet owner to say of their cat, but tonight was special. You see, Tony was in pursuit of a bug that was on the opposite side of the window pane. So for ten minutes, not only did I watch Tony try to get this bug, but I also listened to loud banging noises as Tony continually butted his head against the clear window. Eventually, he looked up at me with a really confused expression. At this point, I just had to leave the room because it was too sad. I don't know how long it took before he gave up on getting the bug.

The mind of an artist, poet, pianist, and other useless activities

Last night I was happily reading a cheesy romantic novella when BJ called me into the living room to watch Keith Olbermann and hear Bush’s address. Apparently, this was the sort of momentous occasion that I shouldn’t read A Reluctant Schoolmarm through. I really like Olbermann and enjoy his speeches, so I was attentive through that segment of history. And then I figured yeah, sure, I’ll watch Bush, too. So while BJ was appreciating the significance of last night (for better or worse), I just kind of got lost in the mysterious web of my mind. Before I knew it, I was wondering how it is men’s fashion has evolved into the conventional suit, so much so that nearly every man in America with a decent paying job wears a suit Monday through Friday. As I stared at Bush’s red tie, I kept wondering what the function of that curious piece of clothing is or ever was. When I posed these questions to BJ, he said, “You mean all you are getting out of this is wondering why men wear ties?” Yes, that’s it. So I returned to the passionate tales of a schoolmarm.

Zzz...

If you know me, you have probably heard what an incredibly deep sleeper I am. For example, I once slept through my parent's house flooding. We were reroofing the house, and a hail storm came through Menard. I was asleep on the couch that night. My whole family was running around with the lights one, yelling and getting buckets. It was pretty much total chaos. My only memory from this is waking up just long enough to think, "What a strange dream, Dad running in his underwear with a bucket."

A few weeks ago I slept through Sienna throwing up (because she ate Tony's pooh) a couple of feet from my head. I only woke up because BJ was making racket while cleaning the mess with the express purpose of waking me up.

I tell you all of this because I found out today that my life is in danger. BJ was telling me earlier how he sometimes wakes up to find his arm over my face. And I am utterly clueless, deep in sleep. Basically, he could suffocate me, and I would never know. These are the perils of being married.

Old t-shirts with satin nightgowns

In my poetry class, I’ve been reading a book about poetry. The book opens with a paragraph on epiphanies and the important part they play in poetry.

If poetry really is someone coming to an understanding, and stating that understanding in a beautiful condensed way, then my husband was a poet last night.

It all started when I had a day filled with frustration and business. Of course, to make things worse, I was going on only a few hours of sleep. I threw a final coat of gesso on the canvas that was due the next morning in my painting class, and started focusing on my one true goal in life: to get in bed early. I went to the drawer filled with all of the night clothes I got from my lingerie party a few months before the wedding and started digging for something to wear. I decided to actually wear one of the pretty things I had gotten instead of my usual old t-shirts. Finally, I settled on a long, never-before-worn satin night gown in a beautiful cream color.

So I was running around getting everything ready when I felt something knock against my leg: I had run into the wet canvas getting a nice, big white smudge on my satin gown. Nearly in tears after my long day being made longer, BJ offered to wash it immediately and work on removing the stain.

While BJ worked on the stain, I returned to the bedroom and put on a baggy, old t-shirt. BJ came in a few minutes later and said he didn’t think he could get all the stain out, but that it would be okay because the gown would fit me better now. And here is where he became a poet. He said, “It’s like you, the embodiment of elegance…with a smudge.”

So my husband knows me pretty well. And I think that night gown has just become my new favorite. It will now feel as good as a faded old t-shirt.

A piano with a side of slurpy, please

I was really excited yesterday because I got a new piece of sheet music for the piano that I’ve been wanting for months. It is the song my bridesmaids walked into: “Buon Giarno Principessa” from Life is Beautiful. As soon as I printed it off my computer, I ran to the living room and started trying to learn it on my old, trusty piano.

The song is slow and mesmerizing, so I was loosing myself in the music when real life crept in: loud slurping noises floated towards me from my left as Sienna squelched a sudden, tremendous thirst. You might think that this would have ruined my song, and I believe a year ago I would have thought so, too. But somehow it made it better. The sounds of life mingled with the graceful, calming sound of a piano is exactly what I want to hear on my life's soundtrack. I continued playing my songs in the midst of my often chaotic home, and I enjoyed it thoroughly.

(However, as a side note, I’m not sure Tony agrees with me. I’m pretty sure he attacked Sienna immediately following her musical performance.)

Bad hygiene and crooked men of God

BJ started his job today at EB Games. So far, he has seen some impressively nerdy videogame junkies.

Occasionally, I find that the things I love the most about BJ are really random. Like today when he was explaining to me what he was going to write in a letter about his philosophy of education for a job application with Cisco Junior College. The way he says the word education made me believe in those vowels. He says it like the e and the u and the a are valuable and to be cherished. If he gets a job interview with this place, all he will have to do is say "education", and his prospective employees will believe more passionately in their own mission as an educational institution than they ever did before.

I realize this seems like I may be over zealous, but it is a well known fact among people who know BJ that he is a schmooz. He can talk his way through almost anything. If we were a slightly less moral couple, BJ could make us a killer living as a televangelist. But for now, he is just going to wait on boys with bad hygiene and long hair for nine bucks an hour.

P.S. Forgive me for the randomness of this post. I hope I haven't wasted too many precious moments of your life.

I’ve moved up, and I’m confused

For twenty-one years, I’ve been able to comfortably set through the first few minutes of roll call. P is a ways down in the alphabet, and I like it that way. So today, the first day of school, I did as always: daydreamed while the teacher’s voice danced in a blur in the background of my mind for the first part of class. The problem with this is that I had forgotten that I’ve recently been promoted in the alphabet. I was totally unprepared for the G’s. So when the teacher called out “Kalyn Gensic” (mispronouncing my last name in a way that only furthered confusion), I set dreamily in my seat slowly registering the name only to wake up after entirely too many seconds to realize that the person being called was in fact myself. So I looked like an idiot who didn’t know my own name. Great first impression. Hopefully, tomorrow I will have better luck remembering who I am.

One big happy family, or something

My brother snapped some family photos the day we got home from our honeymoon, and I just had them developed. I think that these Kodak moments pretty much tell all.

Well, if a picture is worth a thousand words, this one perfectly describes our little Gensic clan. Notice how one half of the picture is in chaos, while the other half is calmly observing. And you might also notice that it is Tony and myself occupying the chaotic side. It is moments such as these that I wonder where it was that I went wrong.

Then there is this little gem I call Tony in Mid-Air. I like how BJ is smiling for the camera while Sienna observes in wonder at her knew sibling, and I just try to keep some semblance of composure while my cat has all claws out and is jumping out of my lap in a desperate attempt at escape.


We did manage to get one decent family photo, although I am quite sure that Tony is staring at Sienna’s tail and planning an attack.


And lastly, I have this picture Allie just sent me of Tony. Now that is one dang cute cat.

Did I mention he's musical

Well, I’ve been waiting for Tony to cross “that” line with BJ, the invisible one that would put him forever on BJ’s bad side. He made it through a month with out crossing boundaries, but yesterday morning I woke up to find my cat on the other side.

And it wasn’t how I expected. Before living with BJ, Tony had a vast number of habits that I figured would eventually cost him his life with BJ, such as tearing up a roll of tissue paper ever two days, attacking my feet every morning at about five, and just generally attacking any body part you accidentally move. I became adept in those months at sitting completely still and not breathing. But he has given up all of these habits in what I am guessing is fear of his step-father. No, how he got himself in trouble was far less violent. You see, what he did was meow. That’s right. Every morning at 5 o’clock, Tony sits on the window sill by our bed and meows as loudly has he possibly can. None stop. With passion.

I’d like to think that Tony is getting in touch with his more sensitive side, but BJ seems unimpressed. He woke up grouchy yesterday morning and declared that Tony will for now on be shut out from our bedroom at night. Somehow, I don’t think this will keep fluffy, musical genius out of mischief. I’ve taught him better than that.

Poor Tony

This past weekend at Garner State Park, my mom, who is normally irrationally terrified of dogs, absolutely fell head over heals in love with Sienna. The two of them walked around the park like grandmothers and grandchildren should. By the end of the weekend, Mom had decided that although Abby (her sweet, well-behaved cat) was still the best animal in the world, Sienna is certainly the next best animal in the world.

Notice, there was no third on this list. My pet didn’t even appear on her radar. When I inquired on this, she just said that Tony scares her.

To make matters worst, Tony keeps getting stuck in BJ’s aquarium. I’m not sure how. I’d call this talent, but BJ calls this a good reason to kill Tony.

Two-steppin' with Dad

This weekend, my family went camping at Garner State Park. This was the first time it was the “five of us”, so it was fairly momentous.

The weekend was great, and there are a lot of memories I could write about right now, but there is one that just keeps popping into the forefront of my mind. Today, I’m going to take a break from being a sappy wife and, instead, be a sappy daughter.

Throughout the weekend, Dad had told us stories about when he was younger and would come to the park. They are stories of a man I hardly feel I know, like the time he got so drunk he woke up with a rock in the center of his back. Granted, the stories are funny, but my dad is a gentle person who cried on my shoulder before we walked me down the aisle a month ago. On Saturday night, Dad and I decided to go to the little dance Garner hosts every Saturday. My mom, brother, and BJ all hate to dance, so we left them and their six left feet behind. We danced to nearly every song, and we worked up quite a sweat doing it. But then a slow song came on, and the words hit a little too close to home: “When tough little boys grow up to be dads, they turn into big babies again.” I hid my face a bit so Dad wouldn’t see me fighting back tears. I’ve laughed countless times at the cheesiness of country music, but sometimes life just hits you in all of its glorious cheesiness, and you can’t help but be glad that there is some country song out there saying exactly what you’d been thinking.

Finally!

I am happy to announce that BJ was offered a really good job yesterday. He is going to be the assistant manager at a game store here in Abilene. He was supposed to be applying for the third-key position, but the assistant manager position opened up randomly due to some drama going on, and he was offered it. This means full time, some benefits, and more than the $6.50 an hour he is making right now. This means we're going to be okay.

In Father of the Bride, there is a great moment where Steve Martin talks about how you work and work all the time waiting for those rare moments where everything feels okay. And then those moments happen, and its amazing. I feel like that today.

And, then, he went to work again...

...and it was bad.

I still maintain that my husband holds the worst job of all time. Today, when BJ came home, his exact words were, "I drank too much water from the hose and nearly threw up." It just can't be a good day when your husband says that upon returning home from his job. Apparently, he nearly got dehydrated, and over did it with the hose. Poor guy.

P.S. I apologize for the unusually number of references to puking in my blog the past few days.

A crappy anniversary, literally

Today is our one month anniversary. Last night, I read my journal entries from before the wedding and on the wedding day, I got all sappy and nostalgic, and I let myself submerge into the happiness of the past month.

Then, I woke up this morning to an empty bed. I heard something next to me, peered down to the floor, and saw my husband bent over something with a sickly look on his face. He was cleaning.

Back up a few days: I cleaned Tony’s kitty litter box a few days ago and was amazed at how little was in there since it had been a while since I had scooped. My fears were that A) my cat was severely constipated or B) he had found another place in the house to relieve himself.

But no, this time it wasn’t Tony’s fault. Instead, it seems Sienna has acquired a habit of eating Tony’s crap. So it was Sienna who was keeping the kitty litter box empty, and it was Sienna who had made the mess BJ was cleaning. She threw up three times this morning before we woke up: in the hallway, the living room, and, finally, our bedroom. So BJ cleaned up a lovely mixture of his dog’s puke, my cat’s crap, and kitty litter gravel.

Happy Anniversary to us!

Another venture into preacher’s-wifehood

Today, not only was I a preacher’s wife, but I was the wife of Reverend Genuset, with a soft g.

BJ preached today in a really small town north of Abilene called Haskell. The congregation was about twenty people, all of which were eligible for senior citizen discounts at IHOP. Of course, they had the oldest and most senile of them all heading the service. He was a cute old man with a huge gut and an oxygen tank. Although there was a printed out order of worship, he accidentally skipped BJ’s sermon until three items or so down. When the purple-haired lady at the piano pointed this out to the man right before the Lord’s Supper, he burst out laughing and proclaimed to God that He was supposed to be watching out for him. The congregation then discussed whether they should continue with communion or skip back to the sermon. After making their decision to proceed with the Lord’s Supper we had already had “contemplation time” for, we had communions. And then it was time for the old man to announce BJ:

“Now let’s hear a few words from Reverend Ginuset.”

My brother, who had come along to laugh at me being a preacher's wife, and I had to work unusually hard to keep from absolutely bursting into laughter. But we didn’t, and BJ delivered a stellar sermon. It was a fun Sunday to by Mrs. Genuset.

Learning to live with a man and his toys

The other day, I asked BJ if he wanted to take Sienna for a walk. His response was “Yah, just let me finish with my gummy ship.”

Reader, meet the incredibly geeky, boyish side of my twenty-seven year old husband.

BJ has been glued to the futon the past few days riveted by a video game he is playing on the Play Station 2 our friends, Josh and Allie, gave us as our wedding gift. It is the same video game that has gummy ships and a wide array of Disney characters. BJ was trying to explain an “interesting” facet to this game, and I was really trying to act interested, but I knew it was going down hill when he said “Oh, you haven’t seen Star Trek. Well they have ships that…” He concluded this video game tale laughing and saying “It was hilarious”. He then stared at my confused expression, and declared that he can tell I don’t care. Should I try harder to fake caring, or just accept that we are truly in different zones at times?

How we paid our electricity bill this month

Today was an adventure into a life I never really expected for myself. Today, I was a preacher's wife.

In order to pick up a little extra money to pay the electricity bill, BJ and I travels to Oplin were BJ received fifty dollars to lead singing and a hundred dollars to preach. BJ was a little nervous about the whole affair because it had been a few years since he had done either. However, we got what we didn't expect: one of the most fulfilling Sundays in recent memory.

To begin with, BJ's sermon was amazing. And, no, I am not just saying that because I'm his wife. To proove this, I'm going to tell a brief summary of the sermon. He started by reading Jer. 18 about the potter and the clay. He then went on to talk about the harsh process that clay must endure in the hands of the potter in order to be formed into the final vessal. He then moved to the Beatitudes and talked about how God's version of blessedness is far different from our Americanized version. In the end, BJ tied this all together by basically saying that we come to the potter expecting gentleness and love and blessing. And we do indeed get all of these things. But it is not how we expect it. The process is disorienting at times, and at the end, we aren't necessarily what we planned to be formed into.

So there you have it. I pretty decent sermon. But I haven't told you my favorite part. It happens to also be my favorite part of my husband. The sermon was personal, just like BJ always is. What others might keep secret, he confesses openly, often in ways I don't know what to do with. So my favorite part of the sermon was this:

"If we’re going to take the Beatitudes seriously, and I think we should, than God may very well be shaping us into a people we would not have chosen to be. Kalyn and I have been having a rough time lately when it comes to finances. I recently graduated with my master’s degree, and accumulated $40k debt in the process. Neither Kalyn nor I have been able to find good jobs. Our bills and loan payments far exceed our monthly income (As an aside, Kalyn and I wanted to thank you for paying our electric bill). I’ve been looking for good jobs since January, only to be turned down for every job I’ve applied for. I don’t like it, and many times I have wondered if God is punishing me for something.
"But when I read, 'Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth,' I have to wonder if God is trying to show me what it’s like to be a part of his reality, what it’s really like to live in the Kingdom of Heaven. Paul tells us to carry our cross, as painful as that might be, but that implies choice, and I have very little choice in being practically unemployed. No, maybe what I’m experiencing is not the weight of the cross, but the life of one who is kneeling in the shadow of the cross. Maybe I’m experiencing the pain of being shaped by God."

When BJ said this, he teared up a bit. And at the end of the service, the people were touched. They prayed for us, and thanked BJ for a wonderful sermon.

After church we went out to eat with a couple in their eighties. This couple had stories of all sorts of trials in their lives. Each one's first spouse had left them for others. The man, Doug, was bi-polar and has endured periods of depression I can not begin to fathom. His wife, Ruth, lost her son when he was twenty-five years old, and her ex-husband tried to kill her once. And yet, through all of this, they have kept faith. And they have kept love. At the end of a two hour conversation, they gave BJ and I a check for two hundred dollars asking only that we do the same for someone down the road. I am left speachless and humbled.

Am I like Tony, or is Tony like me?

My question tonight is did I raise Tony to be evil, or is Tony rubbing off on me and making me evil? Because I'm pretty sure we have both occupied this catagory today.

Tony was evil today in the same way an alarm clock is evil. Literally. At five o'clock this morning, BJ and I were awoken by the insesent mewing of Tony on our window sill. I could not find any apparent reason for this mewing. But then again, when has Tony ever acted on reason?

I, too, have been incredibly irritating tonight. With all of my friend and brother going home for a little while before summer ends, it occured to me that for the first time ever, I won't be spending an extended period of time at home to end my summer. And on top of this, my Dad is having some heart problems. So in order to cope with homesickness, I have resorted to just being annoying. It seems I have interesting ways of coping with the changes that come with married life. I finally started feeling so sorry for my exhausted husband that I came in here to blog.

On a positive note, BJ was telling me about the sermon he is doing for a guest preaching position this weekend, and it sounds really good. It is a life-sucks-but-it's-okay sermon. And it occured to me that despite the fact that we are living as BJ put it "not from paycheck to paycheck but from bill to bill", I don't think any amount of money could actually improve my state of contentment right now. I am liking where I'm at and who I am with while I am here. So, I guess I am going further into the territory my friend Allie referred to as "sappy wifedom". That's okay.

Further Tales of the Worst Job Ever

Well, BJ's day added new significance to the often heard grumble, "It's a Monday." For starters, he had to tell his boss that he was trying to get another part time job with a temp agency. After this, a tree limb fell on him, so his entire body is covered in scratches. Then, his keys, which were in his pocket, somehow caught on to the chain saw and ripped his pants. But the real icing on this cake of doom was when he accidentaly decapitated a kitten. I think it is safe to say that he has now officially chartered new territories of suckiness.

But on a positive note, I am honestly a bit proud of my husband for the job he has. I mean, he wakes up each day knowing he has a ridiculous amount of education, goes to a tree-trimming job, and comes home with such a thick coat of sawdust and dirt on his face it is hard to kiss his wife. And he does all of this so that we can pay our rent and put food on the table (and in Tony and Sienna's food dishes). I know it is cheesy, but I have a pretty amazing husband.

My little, cute, fluffy, evil genius

One of the things BJ and I knew we had to do before we moved in together was get Tony one of the really cool kitty litter boxes that have a cover and a door. This is due to the fact that my husband is obsessive when it comes to clean floors, so we had to ensure that as little kitty litter as possible escaped the box. Since Tony gets a kick out of playing in his kitty litter, I have after found kitty litter in a wide radius around his previously uncovered box.

Anyways, so Tony has a really nifty kitty litter box. I have said all of this because I am rather proud of his brilliance right now. See, Tony is currently sitting in his little kitty litter room using the swinging door to repeatedly hit Sienna in the face as she stares confusedly trying to figure out what is in this little mysterious room. Don't get me wrong, I feel sorry for Sienna. But the artist and mother in me is proud of the kitten I raised figuring out such a inventive and creative way to beat up an animal that weighs approximately 8 times his size.

Honeymoon Pictures

We returned from our honeymoon last Saturday. I was so happy to start settling into our home. Wednesday, we got our Honeymoon photos developed. I was so excited to see the pictures and relive the memories of the past week. What I didn't expect was that the majority of the photos go something like this: me taking a picture of BJ with him giving me the look of "do I really have to take this picture", and the following inevitably being BJ taking of picture of me in which I show him the way he was supposed to pose to make the moment truly Kodak-worthy. For example, I wanted pictures of us showing our rings. This is BJ's pathetic attempt at the yeah-I'm-married look:

This is me showing the proper yeah-I'm-married look:

Next, I wanted to document a fulfilling trip to Dairy Queen. Here is my husband's picture:

This is the pose he refused to do:

Later, we went to the zoo. BJ hates me:

I'm adorable:

Thankfully, not all of the photos fell into this sequence. Here's a good one, just to show we aren't totally dysfunctional:

My First Post

It is 1:12 in the morning. At about midnight tonight, I randomly decided to do what my brother has been telling me to do for a long time now: I started a blog.

BJ is currently sleeping and preparing for another day at the worst job in the world. He has a newly acquired Masters degree in Divinity, and he is working as a tree trimmer. He applies for about seven jobs a week and he gets about seven denial letters in the mail a week. As if to pour salt in his wounds, today he proudly cut a tree limb from about ten feet up a ladder only to have it hit a clothes wire a ricochet back to hit him in the face. Occasionally, life sucks.

The good news is today Sienna, who is always perfectly well behaved, decided to not play fetch correctly. Instead, she just stared stupidly at BJ until he was forced to fetch the ball himself. Why is the good news? It made Tony look slightly less like the horrible child in the family.