We are only two days from July, and that has got me reflecting on my life over the past few years. July has been an eventful month for BJ and I. In July of 2006, we got married. In 2007, we moved to Dallas. And, of course, last July we moved to Kentucky. Although we will have a lot of company this month, July is looking pretty uneventful in comparison to the past three years.
It is hard to believe that BJ and I have been married for three years, and it is even harder to believe that we have lived in three entirely different places. I keep trying to pen down how I am going to define my first years of marriage in the years ahead, and I'm not sure how to neatly phrase it. "We were never bored." Or maybe, "Where to now?"
BJ and I don't do anything the easy way. Every place we've been has presented unique challenges. In Abilene, BJ felt numbed by jobs that were miles away from this education and passion. Dallas was a battlefield; BJ may have been called a "heretic," but he wasn't going to back down from teaching what he knew needed to be taught. And now Kentucky, where we are still trying to get our feet steadily placed under us. The one constant throughout all of this change was the necessity for team work. We each had to muster every ounce of perseverance and fortitude we had to make it through to the next phase.
In some ways, I fear life becoming too settled. What has always brought BJ and I together has been an 'us against the world' mentality. In Abilene, we had to have patience, Dallas required strength, and Kentucky is demanding courage and trust in God. I probably don't need to get too worried about the sudden settling of dust around us, though. After all, BJ has a way of shaking things up when I least expect it. That is what makes being Mrs. BJ Gensic so much fun.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Summer days
Last year, we moved into our house at the beginning of fall, so this is the first time we have really been able to enjoy our yard and patio. As it has (finally) warmed up, we've been spending more and more time outside. I have a small, potted herb garden and a huge flower bed I am trying to take care of. Of course, I don't know anything about gardening, so my flower bed consist of every flower whose seed-packet picture was pretty. I'm guessing that once the flowers start blooming it will look like a collage a disorder. I'll have a better idea of what to do next year.
When I get home from work, I cook us a meal with our fresh vegetables from the CSA. BJ can't believe some of the things he is learning to like (turnips, radish greens, kale, etc.) According to BJ, I am stuffing him full of vegetables. After dinner, we hop in the pool where we are able to think of all sorts of ways to hurt each other. Pools are so much fun. Sienna generally hops in and takes a few laps. After the pool, I head in and either do some little house project or work on art. It's a pretty good system we have going here.
The miraculous part of all of this is that I am starting to see the slightest darkening of my skin. It's nothing drastic. I certainly wouldn't call it a tan. In fact, it is more just a subtle connecting of my freckles. Now let me be clear: I wear sunscreen when I am out (I will not be looking like a leather bag when I am forty). But a healthy glow doesn't hurt, whereas the glare off of my former paleness probable did hurt some eyes. So I'm going to embrace what BJ once called "a darker shade of white," and I will call it a "glow."
When I get home from work, I cook us a meal with our fresh vegetables from the CSA. BJ can't believe some of the things he is learning to like (turnips, radish greens, kale, etc.) According to BJ, I am stuffing him full of vegetables. After dinner, we hop in the pool where we are able to think of all sorts of ways to hurt each other. Pools are so much fun. Sienna generally hops in and takes a few laps. After the pool, I head in and either do some little house project or work on art. It's a pretty good system we have going here.
The miraculous part of all of this is that I am starting to see the slightest darkening of my skin. It's nothing drastic. I certainly wouldn't call it a tan. In fact, it is more just a subtle connecting of my freckles. Now let me be clear: I wear sunscreen when I am out (I will not be looking like a leather bag when I am forty). But a healthy glow doesn't hurt, whereas the glare off of my former paleness probable did hurt some eyes. So I'm going to embrace what BJ once called "a darker shade of white," and I will call it a "glow."
Monday, June 15, 2009
Things I'm missing about Texas
I like Kentucky, but some days I really miss home. Today, I'm missing...
...cilantro. No one puts it in their salsa here.
...bluebonnets. Bluebonnets are a part of life in Texas. We all grew up in Texas reading Legend of the Bluebonnets and being told that we were never to pick them. They taught me to respect my environment. They froze over when my grandmother died, and a few days after the funeral, they thawed out and continued to live for another month. When I graduated from college, my college girlfriends and I did a farewell photo shoot in a field of bluebonnets. I haven't seen a field of bluebonnets in over a year.
...three-digit weather. You don't think you'll ever miss it, but you do.
...family, family, and family.
...days without rain. It rains here everyday. BJ and I have been trying to stain our deck for two weeks, and we haven't had a forecast without rain for a long enough span to stain anything. I've never liked rain, and this is truly ridiculous.
I'm sure I could think of things I don't miss, but for the past few weeks, all I can seem to remember are the things I do miss. I've never been a proud, boasting Texan. You won't find any Texas flags in my house or on my clothes, and I won't ever try to rub it in that we are somehow a superior state to Kentucky or any other state. I'm not that sort, and I don't respect that kind of narrow-mindedness. However, it is my home, and I do love it. And, incidentally, I would sing "The Yellow Rose of Texas" if it would mean getting a number 4 from Los Arcos right now. Believe me, I would.
...cilantro. No one puts it in their salsa here.
...bluebonnets. Bluebonnets are a part of life in Texas. We all grew up in Texas reading Legend of the Bluebonnets and being told that we were never to pick them. They taught me to respect my environment. They froze over when my grandmother died, and a few days after the funeral, they thawed out and continued to live for another month. When I graduated from college, my college girlfriends and I did a farewell photo shoot in a field of bluebonnets. I haven't seen a field of bluebonnets in over a year.
...three-digit weather. You don't think you'll ever miss it, but you do.
...family, family, and family.
...days without rain. It rains here everyday. BJ and I have been trying to stain our deck for two weeks, and we haven't had a forecast without rain for a long enough span to stain anything. I've never liked rain, and this is truly ridiculous.
I'm sure I could think of things I don't miss, but for the past few weeks, all I can seem to remember are the things I do miss. I've never been a proud, boasting Texan. You won't find any Texas flags in my house or on my clothes, and I won't ever try to rub it in that we are somehow a superior state to Kentucky or any other state. I'm not that sort, and I don't respect that kind of narrow-mindedness. However, it is my home, and I do love it. And, incidentally, I would sing "The Yellow Rose of Texas" if it would mean getting a number 4 from Los Arcos right now. Believe me, I would.
Monday, June 08, 2009
From BJ's sermon this week
"Next, we commit to standing up for what we believe in, for what is right. There are things worth fighting over on this side of life, and we will fight for them. But when the world comes to fight against us with its hatred and its animosity and its pain, we will bring none of those things. We will turn the other cheek. We will walk the extra mile. We will do the hard work of forgiveness before the sun sets on our anger, and contrary to what many will think, this will not make us pushovers. No, we will be the ones with the courage to walk a different path, because it is God who empowers us. Christ showed his followers where to make their stand, and we will do it. We shall not be moved, but in our hands we will hold self-sacrifice and love of our enemies. So Christ stood. So we shall stand."
BJ Gensic, "Does Jesus Speak to This" June 7, 2009
I know it is kind of brag-y to post his writing here, but I am just so proud of him. I can't help myself.
BJ Gensic, "Does Jesus Speak to This" June 7, 2009
I know it is kind of brag-y to post his writing here, but I am just so proud of him. I can't help myself.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Curtains and more curtains and more...
I have lived in my house for nine months now. Each month, I fall a little more in love with it's numerous quirks and idiosyncrasies. The best part about having a home of which you really fell ownership is the never-ending process of molding that home into an aesthetic conglomerate that represents you, your family, and your taste. For me, this process has most obviously played itself out through the outfitting of windows. As of this weekend, I have officially sewn curtains or valances to outfit fifteen windows. Here is a quick run through of my sewing extravaganza.
First off, I made curtains for our living room when I was still at the rental waiting for our sell to go through. The trim matches our pillows:
The night I found out we would close the next day and get our house, I threw together this little valance out of scrap fabric from the living room curtains and pillows. I added the embroidery stitch by hand to keep it from being too plain:
Next, I decided to revamp my kitchen. Our house was built in the 1940s, so I was really wanting to capture a "Leave it to Beaver" feel without being too hokey. After thoroughly researching fabrics online and at stores, here is what I came up with:
After the kitchen curtains, I decided to remedy a problem that has irritated me since I got here. The curtains the previous owner left in the sun room where dark and heavy and didn't let any sun through. What's the point of having a sun room if the sun never comes through? So I sewed light-weight valances that let the light shine through:
Lastly, I wanted to give the guest bedroom a warmer feel by adding some curtains. Unfortunately, by this point I was feeling a little guilty about how much money I had spent on curtain fabric. To be more efficient, I made very simple valances and added an embellishment of ribbon to dress it up a bit:
So this is how I've amused myself during my first year as homeowner. Knowing me, I will soon get the itch to sew again, so if you are in need of custom curtains, let me know. Hope I haven't bored anyone too much. I just get really excited by fabric and thread and ribbons. And believe me, I know I'm a nerd.
First off, I made curtains for our living room when I was still at the rental waiting for our sell to go through. The trim matches our pillows:
The night I found out we would close the next day and get our house, I threw together this little valance out of scrap fabric from the living room curtains and pillows. I added the embroidery stitch by hand to keep it from being too plain:
Next, I decided to revamp my kitchen. Our house was built in the 1940s, so I was really wanting to capture a "Leave it to Beaver" feel without being too hokey. After thoroughly researching fabrics online and at stores, here is what I came up with:
After the kitchen curtains, I decided to remedy a problem that has irritated me since I got here. The curtains the previous owner left in the sun room where dark and heavy and didn't let any sun through. What's the point of having a sun room if the sun never comes through? So I sewed light-weight valances that let the light shine through:
Lastly, I wanted to give the guest bedroom a warmer feel by adding some curtains. Unfortunately, by this point I was feeling a little guilty about how much money I had spent on curtain fabric. To be more efficient, I made very simple valances and added an embellishment of ribbon to dress it up a bit:
So this is how I've amused myself during my first year as homeowner. Knowing me, I will soon get the itch to sew again, so if you are in need of custom curtains, let me know. Hope I haven't bored anyone too much. I just get really excited by fabric and thread and ribbons. And believe me, I know I'm a nerd.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
CSA
My father used to joke that I would have made a wonderful hippi. Frankly, he had a pretty good point. I'm a peace lover, art is my life, nature and being gentle on the environment ranks high on my priority list, and I wear loose, flowing dresses on a very regular basis. So other than the drugs and free sex thing, I'd say he wasn't too far off.
My most recent expression of my inner-hippi has been through food. This summer, I signed me and BJ up for a CSA (community supported agriculture). The way it works is I paid into a family-run, organic farm near Murray, and they deliver me a large basket of organically-grown produce every Thursday. It is awesome!!! Not only are you eating healthy, environmentally friendly foods, but you are also supporting local agriculture! To give you an idea of how happy this makes me, just know that I don't usually use exclamation marks. It's rare and significant for them to show up.
The funnest part of the CSA is that I'm getting tons of vegetables that I've never cooked before, so I am being challenged to learn new recipes and cooking methods. BJ is walking into the unknown almost every meal. Here is a conversation between us from earlier this week:
Me: We are going to have swiss chard in our basket this week.
BJ: I don't even know what swiss chard is.
Me: It is something I'll be cooking in bacon for you.
And I did cook it in bacon. It was wonderful!
My most recent expression of my inner-hippi has been through food. This summer, I signed me and BJ up for a CSA (community supported agriculture). The way it works is I paid into a family-run, organic farm near Murray, and they deliver me a large basket of organically-grown produce every Thursday. It is awesome!!! Not only are you eating healthy, environmentally friendly foods, but you are also supporting local agriculture! To give you an idea of how happy this makes me, just know that I don't usually use exclamation marks. It's rare and significant for them to show up.
The funnest part of the CSA is that I'm getting tons of vegetables that I've never cooked before, so I am being challenged to learn new recipes and cooking methods. BJ is walking into the unknown almost every meal. Here is a conversation between us from earlier this week:
Me: We are going to have swiss chard in our basket this week.
BJ: I don't even know what swiss chard is.
Me: It is something I'll be cooking in bacon for you.
And I did cook it in bacon. It was wonderful!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Taking time to roll in the flowers
When Gus came in this morning from his morning 'business' (aka poop), he had white flower petals sprinkled throughout his hair. He looked lovely. I have no idea how he managed the even, aesthetically pleasing layout, but like I said, it was lovely. And in the spirit of beautiful spring mornings, I am going to focus on how precious Gus was with flowers in his hair and ignore the fact that I will be vacuuming those petals off my floor later today.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Absolutely Beautiful
I'm a jewelry person. I always have been. Orchestrating an outfit with interesting a beautiful jewelry is one of my favorite moments of a day. I'm no fashionista, but I do love putting a look together.
Yesterday, I was getting ready for church, and I realized that every piece of jewelry I had on had some special significance to me. My bracelet was a turquoise bracelet made from Texas turquoise, and it was a gift from my sister and brother in-law. The earrings I was wearing were pearl and silver earrings my Dad bought me because we just so happened to be standing in Zales and he wanted to get me something. It wasn't Christmas or my birthday or some other holiday, it was just a regular day that he felt like making special. My necklace was a long, bulky silver piece that belonged to my Grandma Pierce. She liked gaudy jewelry, and, thankfully, I inhereted that passion. And, of course, I was also wearing my engagement and wedding rings. The story behind my engagement ring is ridiculously sappy, almost embarrasingly sappy, so I'll save that for another post.
I've always been told that we shouldn't take too much stock in material things, and I agree with that. But I love beauty, and I love feeling somehow connected to the people I love and miss because they live far away or have passed away many years ago. So in this context, I think my obsession is legitimized. But that is just some random musings from a very girly girl.
Yesterday, I was getting ready for church, and I realized that every piece of jewelry I had on had some special significance to me. My bracelet was a turquoise bracelet made from Texas turquoise, and it was a gift from my sister and brother in-law. The earrings I was wearing were pearl and silver earrings my Dad bought me because we just so happened to be standing in Zales and he wanted to get me something. It wasn't Christmas or my birthday or some other holiday, it was just a regular day that he felt like making special. My necklace was a long, bulky silver piece that belonged to my Grandma Pierce. She liked gaudy jewelry, and, thankfully, I inhereted that passion. And, of course, I was also wearing my engagement and wedding rings. The story behind my engagement ring is ridiculously sappy, almost embarrasingly sappy, so I'll save that for another post.
I've always been told that we shouldn't take too much stock in material things, and I agree with that. But I love beauty, and I love feeling somehow connected to the people I love and miss because they live far away or have passed away many years ago. So in this context, I think my obsession is legitimized. But that is just some random musings from a very girly girl.
Monday, May 11, 2009
For all the secretaries out there
The worst part about any secretarial work is when you get griped out for matters over which you have absolutely no control. For example, when I worked at a garage door company in Abilene, I was chewed out over the phone because a worker driving our company vehicle had cut off someone on an entrance ramp to the highway. Guess how much control I had over that situation.
Today, I was chewed out because Murray State University takes too long to write checks. MSU is a college, and like any college it is a huge, complex bureaucracy. So, yes, it takes a long time to get a check written. Incidentally, it takes a long time no matter what the secretary in the Adventures in Math and Science Program says or does. In fact, the people who write those checks don't even know the poor little secretary in the Adventures of Math and Science Program, and they wouldn't care if they did. It would still take a long time to get the check written.
So people, be nice to the secretary. He or she has no power to do anything about anything. We can't make people drive better or bureaucracies run faster.
*deep breath* I've been needing to say that for about two years. I feel better.
Today, I was chewed out because Murray State University takes too long to write checks. MSU is a college, and like any college it is a huge, complex bureaucracy. So, yes, it takes a long time to get a check written. Incidentally, it takes a long time no matter what the secretary in the Adventures in Math and Science Program says or does. In fact, the people who write those checks don't even know the poor little secretary in the Adventures of Math and Science Program, and they wouldn't care if they did. It would still take a long time to get the check written.
So people, be nice to the secretary. He or she has no power to do anything about anything. We can't make people drive better or bureaucracies run faster.
*deep breath* I've been needing to say that for about two years. I feel better.
Monday, May 04, 2009
A Revolutionary Post
I am going to take a short moment to be an English snob. This is necessary because it is wrong, I mean down-right wrong, for businesses to cheapen really good words for their advertising purposes. So here it goes.
Saturday, I was working on my final essay for the class I am currently taking, so lunch was a microwavable Lean Cuisine Panini. I was reading the instruction for microwaving, and it said to place the sandwich on their Revolutionary Grilling Tray (the words were actually bolded. I am not exagerating.) Now really - "revolutionary"? Is it revolutionary like that time the Americans decided to overthrow British rule? Or is it revolutionary like back when the French paupers decided to kill everyone who made $250,000 a year or more? Or maybe it is just revolutionary like the time we decided to stop using people and start using machines to make everything - like, for example, cardboard grilling trays? People, please. Grilling trays cannot, let me repeat in bold, cannot be revolutionary. That is a big, important word, and it should be used for big, important things. But thats all I have to say. I feel better now.
Saturday, I was working on my final essay for the class I am currently taking, so lunch was a microwavable Lean Cuisine Panini. I was reading the instruction for microwaving, and it said to place the sandwich on their Revolutionary Grilling Tray (the words were actually bolded. I am not exagerating.) Now really - "revolutionary"? Is it revolutionary like that time the Americans decided to overthrow British rule? Or is it revolutionary like back when the French paupers decided to kill everyone who made $250,000 a year or more? Or maybe it is just revolutionary like the time we decided to stop using people and start using machines to make everything - like, for example, cardboard grilling trays? People, please. Grilling trays cannot, let me repeat in bold, cannot be revolutionary. That is a big, important word, and it should be used for big, important things. But thats all I have to say. I feel better now.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
A weekend in the life of two Kentucky homeowners
I have never (and I mean never) had a green thumb. In fact, I've killed everything I've ever tried to grow. But now that I am a homeowner with window boxes and domestic responsibilities, it seems time to give the great outdoors another try. So last week, I planted vinca vines and fiber optic grass in our window box:
And then, upon deciding that I spend too much money on herbs, I planted an herb garden. If they survive me, who knows, I might try having kids next.
But of course, since I get bored quickly outside, I decided that the pots should be painted. Now that's my kind of gardening.
After I was done gardening, BJ and I decided it was time to trim Gus. First, BJ tried to brush out all of the extra hair that he is currently shedding.
Later, the trimming began, but BJ got so angry at the dysfunctional hair trimmer (or Gus or me - no one really knows at what or whom he was angry), he quit after trimming the torso. So Gus has been running around for about a week with short hair on his torso but long hair on all four legs, his head, and his tail. He looks stupid, but I wouldn't really call that a recent development.
So that is how we spent our weekend. I think it was good for all, except of course Gus who just ended up with a bad hair cut. It's "ruff" being a long-haired dog (I know that was cheesy, but I don't care).
And then, upon deciding that I spend too much money on herbs, I planted an herb garden. If they survive me, who knows, I might try having kids next.
But of course, since I get bored quickly outside, I decided that the pots should be painted. Now that's my kind of gardening.
After I was done gardening, BJ and I decided it was time to trim Gus. First, BJ tried to brush out all of the extra hair that he is currently shedding.
Later, the trimming began, but BJ got so angry at the dysfunctional hair trimmer (or Gus or me - no one really knows at what or whom he was angry), he quit after trimming the torso. So Gus has been running around for about a week with short hair on his torso but long hair on all four legs, his head, and his tail. He looks stupid, but I wouldn't really call that a recent development.
So that is how we spent our weekend. I think it was good for all, except of course Gus who just ended up with a bad hair cut. It's "ruff" being a long-haired dog (I know that was cheesy, but I don't care).
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Blame it on the fever
I apologize for being delinquent on my blog this week, but I have a really good excuse. You see, I'm currently wrapping up day 5 of a nasty virus that has been accompanied with high fever, non-stop coughing, and things coming out of my nose that I didn't actually believe could fit in there.
Unfortunately, when I run fever for long, sustained periods of time, psycho-Kalyn has a way of coming out of the closet. For example, last night my brother was on a bus heading back to Winters from Austen, and he had not called me by the time I thought he should have returned. So I called to check on him, but there was no answer. So I called again and again and again... I tried to space my calls out by at least a minute or so, but sometimes I couldn't wait. Around the time I was convinced that something terrible had happened, he answered the phone. In the background, I could hear a pack of screaming high schoolers, and my brother simply grumbled at me, "I'm not home yet." I giggled and wrestled psycho-Kalyn back in her closet long enough to say, "Alrighty! Call me when you get home. hehe."
So this is how I handle five consecutive days of fever. I am hoping and praying (and I would appreciate prayers from everyone else) that this fever breaks and I can get back to work. Until then, please forgive all the errors that are inevitably in this fever-induced post. And family, please forgive me when psycho-Kalyn strikes.
Unfortunately, when I run fever for long, sustained periods of time, psycho-Kalyn has a way of coming out of the closet. For example, last night my brother was on a bus heading back to Winters from Austen, and he had not called me by the time I thought he should have returned. So I called to check on him, but there was no answer. So I called again and again and again... I tried to space my calls out by at least a minute or so, but sometimes I couldn't wait. Around the time I was convinced that something terrible had happened, he answered the phone. In the background, I could hear a pack of screaming high schoolers, and my brother simply grumbled at me, "I'm not home yet." I giggled and wrestled psycho-Kalyn back in her closet long enough to say, "Alrighty! Call me when you get home. hehe."
So this is how I handle five consecutive days of fever. I am hoping and praying (and I would appreciate prayers from everyone else) that this fever breaks and I can get back to work. Until then, please forgive all the errors that are inevitably in this fever-induced post. And family, please forgive me when psycho-Kalyn strikes.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
YAY Government!
Last night, BJ and I set in bed with his lap top watching the premier episode of Parks and Recreation, the new sitcom on NBC. I was intrigued to watch the show because it is actually about the profession in which I am currently getting a degree, public administration. It's funny watching a show or movie about a topic you know a lot about. It makes the cleverness of all the comedy even more exaggerated.
The show is set in Indiana, so it spoofs the anti-government Mid-Westerner pretty well through the character of the mayor. Near the middle of the show, the mayor goes on a rant about how government is bad and we should do everything possible to make it smaller. Specifically, he talked about privatizing.
Now this was meant to be a funny little monologue, but I've been reading hundreds and hundreds (maybe even thousands) of pages over the past three months about the damage of privatizing and anti-bureaucrat rhetoric, and, additionally, I was tired from just completely a 39 page assignment in which a good 15 pages was devoted to the topic. So I decided to go on a rant of my own. It was a rant about the intrinsic value of government and the evils of unabashed privatization. I thought it was really thought-provoking and engaging. BJ did not. So I was banned from talking for the rest of the episode.
Four months ago, I never would have given this topic a second thought. I would have laughed at the joke, and moved on. But now I'm educated about it, and education has a way of making you care about things you didn't care about before. I take comfort, though, in knowing that if the show had been about a minister as opposed to a public administrators and if the topic of the trinity had been tossed around, BJ would have quickly stepped on his own platform. But what are the chances of that show ever premier? I'll probably never get the chance to ban BJ from talking *sigh*.
The show is set in Indiana, so it spoofs the anti-government Mid-Westerner pretty well through the character of the mayor. Near the middle of the show, the mayor goes on a rant about how government is bad and we should do everything possible to make it smaller. Specifically, he talked about privatizing.
Now this was meant to be a funny little monologue, but I've been reading hundreds and hundreds (maybe even thousands) of pages over the past three months about the damage of privatizing and anti-bureaucrat rhetoric, and, additionally, I was tired from just completely a 39 page assignment in which a good 15 pages was devoted to the topic. So I decided to go on a rant of my own. It was a rant about the intrinsic value of government and the evils of unabashed privatization. I thought it was really thought-provoking and engaging. BJ did not. So I was banned from talking for the rest of the episode.
Four months ago, I never would have given this topic a second thought. I would have laughed at the joke, and moved on. But now I'm educated about it, and education has a way of making you care about things you didn't care about before. I take comfort, though, in knowing that if the show had been about a minister as opposed to a public administrators and if the topic of the trinity had been tossed around, BJ would have quickly stepped on his own platform. But what are the chances of that show ever premier? I'll probably never get the chance to ban BJ from talking *sigh*.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
The point at which technology has gone to far
The other day, I was using a public toilet with automatic flushing. When I first stepped into the stall, I noticed a drop of water on the seat, so I started cleaning. As soon as I finished, the toilet flushed. It was a powerful flush, and immediately, there were more drops of water on the seat. So I cleaned them up, and when I finished, it flushed again leaving water on the seat. I think you can get a sense of the cycle. I stood arguing with the toilet in this clean/flush/spray cycle, but to no avail. I eventually gave up.
Who decided that pressing down on a handle was too much work for humans these days? When did that become beneath us? Because I'm pretty sure that self-flushing toilets are a ridiculous invention. I can flush my own toilet. And then I can wash my hands, and everything will be just fine. I don't need (nor do I want) the toilet to flush itself for me. The toilet is not as smart as me, and therefore, does not know the best and most appropriate time for flushing. In fact, I think I could go for an outhouse after this experience. A place where no grand rapids of toilet water interrupt my day. And as I walk out to the outhouse, I will feel defiant and triumphant in my stand against technology that is useless and silly.
Who decided that pressing down on a handle was too much work for humans these days? When did that become beneath us? Because I'm pretty sure that self-flushing toilets are a ridiculous invention. I can flush my own toilet. And then I can wash my hands, and everything will be just fine. I don't need (nor do I want) the toilet to flush itself for me. The toilet is not as smart as me, and therefore, does not know the best and most appropriate time for flushing. In fact, I think I could go for an outhouse after this experience. A place where no grand rapids of toilet water interrupt my day. And as I walk out to the outhouse, I will feel defiant and triumphant in my stand against technology that is useless and silly.
Friday, April 03, 2009
oh, our dogs
If you were to peruse the past two and a half years of my blog, you would find a lot of posts about how disgusting and weird my husband's dog is. I hate to say this, but Sienna is not a very good dog. She is stinky, gluttonous, and mischievous. But she is quite beautiful, so as an artist who thrives on aesthetics, I like having her around.
Because of Sienna's issues with gluttony, we have to keep a very tight leash on her diet (i love puns). Usually, she is good about eating only what we put in her bowl, but yesterday afternoon when we weren't looking, she scooted over to her food bag and polished off what was left of her food (about 2 to 3 meals worth). BJ was angry, and immediately decided that since she had eaten the food meant to be her dinner last night and her breakfast this morning, she would just not be getting those meals. He sure wasn't going to be making a special trip to Walmart to get her more.
So this morning, Sienna started whining, and her eyes clearly conveyed this message: "I'm starving father. I am wasting away. I'll blow away in the wind if you don't give me substanance. Don't make me die. I don't want to die." BJ, in true BJ fashion, did not care. Here is a conversation between BJ and I a little after the whining session:
BJ: Could you please let your dogs in.
Me: So they're both my dogs now.
BJ: Excuse me. Could you please let your dog in and let my dog wander in behind him.
I'm hoping BJ and Sienna make up later today, because this is kind of ridiculous.
Gus and I are having our own problems. This is the time of year when he sheds, so everytime I turn around, there is another spot to vaccuum. Last night when I brushed him, the pile of hair I pulled out looked like a Pomeranian. Poor little guy. He always looks depressed when I brush him, and the dreaded spring hair cut is fast approaching. Last year he didn't eat or play for a week afterwards, so I'm hoping this year goes better.
Reading over this blog, it strikes me how neurotic our dogs are. I guess the good thing about dogs is that they'll never go to some shrink and find out BJ and I are the reason for their neurosis. Instead, they'll just go on being weird and making fodder for my blog.
Because of Sienna's issues with gluttony, we have to keep a very tight leash on her diet (i love puns). Usually, she is good about eating only what we put in her bowl, but yesterday afternoon when we weren't looking, she scooted over to her food bag and polished off what was left of her food (about 2 to 3 meals worth). BJ was angry, and immediately decided that since she had eaten the food meant to be her dinner last night and her breakfast this morning, she would just not be getting those meals. He sure wasn't going to be making a special trip to Walmart to get her more.
So this morning, Sienna started whining, and her eyes clearly conveyed this message: "I'm starving father. I am wasting away. I'll blow away in the wind if you don't give me substanance. Don't make me die. I don't want to die." BJ, in true BJ fashion, did not care. Here is a conversation between BJ and I a little after the whining session:
BJ: Could you please let your dogs in.
Me: So they're both my dogs now.
BJ: Excuse me. Could you please let your dog in and let my dog wander in behind him.
I'm hoping BJ and Sienna make up later today, because this is kind of ridiculous.
Gus and I are having our own problems. This is the time of year when he sheds, so everytime I turn around, there is another spot to vaccuum. Last night when I brushed him, the pile of hair I pulled out looked like a Pomeranian. Poor little guy. He always looks depressed when I brush him, and the dreaded spring hair cut is fast approaching. Last year he didn't eat or play for a week afterwards, so I'm hoping this year goes better.
Reading over this blog, it strikes me how neurotic our dogs are. I guess the good thing about dogs is that they'll never go to some shrink and find out BJ and I are the reason for their neurosis. Instead, they'll just go on being weird and making fodder for my blog.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Taking lazy to a new level
This is a conversation I had with my brother (aka Bro):
Me: You're 2 on my speed dial list because I call you more than anybody else.
Bro: You're number 3 on mine because it is the easiest one to reach.
Me: You're 2 on my speed dial list because I call you more than anybody else.
Bro: You're number 3 on mine because it is the easiest one to reach.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Things I Learned in Texas
Sorry to go so long without posting. Gus and I have been in Menard spending a wonderfully relaxing Spring Break with my family.
Weeks with my family are almost always interesting. In fact, we are a group of rather zaney people. Throughout the week, we went through old boxes from my Grandma Pierce's house. Here are a few things I learned about my family while searching through these boxes:
1. My brother and I have been liberals from a very young age. We came across a list of laws we had made for our play country when we were in Kindergarten and 2nd grade. My brother has the complete list on his blog. It includes such things as gun control, welfare, and laws against any form of racial discrimination. I think another conclusion that can be drawn from this is that we were brainwashed early.
2. My dad's extended family was also a bit nuts. For example, Dad's great-uncle, Dude, has an interesting life story that I learned this week. He was married twice, both times to a mail-ordered bride. The first bride sent him a picture of her pretty young friend claiming it was a picture of herself. When he went to meet her, she was an old, unattractive woman, but he married her anyways because he felt sorry for her. Not surprisingly, they ended up divorced, but she remained a family friend even after he married his second mail-ordered bride. Not ironically, he died in a car wreck on his way to marry a third mail-ordered bride. He was one of my dad's favorite relatives.
3. The home I grew up in was obtained for our family through a marriage of convenience. An old doctor (about 99 years old) told my great-grandmother that he would give her his house if she would marry him and take care of him.
4. My great-grandmother would buy anything on credit. She once hid behind a piano in our house when a creditor came to collect some late payments. When her location was accidentally revealed, she claimed she was dusting behind the piano.
5. When my grandmother and Aunt Doe were younger, they always wore high heels and took pictures with dogs, so some of my own obsessions are starting to make more sense.
6. My grandmother was constantly cutting out random newspaper articles. Tucked in a stack of my old drawings from her house, we found an article about a new over-the-counter drug for yeast infections. This makes me feel better about always e-mailing people articles I think they should read.
7. Unrelated to my family or grandma's boxes, I also learned this week the BJ's best friend, Josh, has unresolved issues of animosity towards the wives of his friends due to the multiple times I have slaughtered him in boardgames. This was satisfying beyond words.
It was a really great week. I love learning things about my family because, as odd as it sounds, it helps me understand myself a little better. Gus also enjoyed the week, although he did have a few bodily difficulties. Primarily, he only "relieves" himself after Sienna, so on our way down to Menard he went over 24 hours without going number one or number two. I was a little worried about him. But of course, the best part of traveling with Gus is watching the workers in drive-thrus ooh-and-aah when I'm getting my food and being stopped about ten times by random strangers who are wanting to know what in the world that dog is. It was definitely a good trip.
Weeks with my family are almost always interesting. In fact, we are a group of rather zaney people. Throughout the week, we went through old boxes from my Grandma Pierce's house. Here are a few things I learned about my family while searching through these boxes:
1. My brother and I have been liberals from a very young age. We came across a list of laws we had made for our play country when we were in Kindergarten and 2nd grade. My brother has the complete list on his blog. It includes such things as gun control, welfare, and laws against any form of racial discrimination. I think another conclusion that can be drawn from this is that we were brainwashed early.
2. My dad's extended family was also a bit nuts. For example, Dad's great-uncle, Dude, has an interesting life story that I learned this week. He was married twice, both times to a mail-ordered bride. The first bride sent him a picture of her pretty young friend claiming it was a picture of herself. When he went to meet her, she was an old, unattractive woman, but he married her anyways because he felt sorry for her. Not surprisingly, they ended up divorced, but she remained a family friend even after he married his second mail-ordered bride. Not ironically, he died in a car wreck on his way to marry a third mail-ordered bride. He was one of my dad's favorite relatives.
3. The home I grew up in was obtained for our family through a marriage of convenience. An old doctor (about 99 years old) told my great-grandmother that he would give her his house if she would marry him and take care of him.
4. My great-grandmother would buy anything on credit. She once hid behind a piano in our house when a creditor came to collect some late payments. When her location was accidentally revealed, she claimed she was dusting behind the piano.
5. When my grandmother and Aunt Doe were younger, they always wore high heels and took pictures with dogs, so some of my own obsessions are starting to make more sense.
6. My grandmother was constantly cutting out random newspaper articles. Tucked in a stack of my old drawings from her house, we found an article about a new over-the-counter drug for yeast infections. This makes me feel better about always e-mailing people articles I think they should read.
7. Unrelated to my family or grandma's boxes, I also learned this week the BJ's best friend, Josh, has unresolved issues of animosity towards the wives of his friends due to the multiple times I have slaughtered him in boardgames. This was satisfying beyond words.
It was a really great week. I love learning things about my family because, as odd as it sounds, it helps me understand myself a little better. Gus also enjoyed the week, although he did have a few bodily difficulties. Primarily, he only "relieves" himself after Sienna, so on our way down to Menard he went over 24 hours without going number one or number two. I was a little worried about him. But of course, the best part of traveling with Gus is watching the workers in drive-thrus ooh-and-aah when I'm getting my food and being stopped about ten times by random strangers who are wanting to know what in the world that dog is. It was definitely a good trip.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Word vomit from Rush Limbaugh and how I became a feminist
Words flowing from the bottomless pit that is Rush Limbaugh's mouth generally disgust me. There's no nice way to put it. Unfortunately, sometimes it is hard to entirely avoid the man. The other day, I heard this extremely unfortunate quote from Limbaugh: "Feminism was established so as to allow unattractive women easier access to the mainstream of society." I was so angry about this that I decided to jump on a soap box. So welcome, reader, to my soap box.
After a few Sunday morning Bible classes that focused on women in the church, I have really been examining my views on feminism and my own role in society and, more importantly, the church. After one particular class where my feminism flared out a little more visibly than usual, I was asked by a fellow classmate what my father is like. Basically, she was trying to figure out the roots of my feminism. The more I thought about her question, the more I realized a startling discovery.
Limbaugh's gross misrepresentation of feminism is unfortunately not uncommon in our society, but after contemplating my church friend's question, I came to realize something that truly defies society's feminist stereotype: I realized that the three strongest feminist I personally know are all men. I am speaking of my father, brother, and husband. Let me explain.
Nearly everyday of my youth, my father told me how great I was. In fact, his parenting technique reminds me of Tina Fey's acceptance speech at the Emmy's last year when she thanked her parents for "somehow raising me to have confidence that is disproportionate with my looks and abilities. Well done. That is what all parents should do." He constantly told me that I was just as smart as my brother (which he was wrong about, but I don't hold it against him). The expectation in my house was clear: I, the daughter, was equal in ability and potential to the first born son. Take that, our ridiculous patriarchal culture!
Then there was my brother. He's an English major. I don't think I have to say much else. To sum it up, the guy is a raving feminist who has constantly affirmed both my artistic pursuits and my intellectual development.
And, of course, there is BJ. BJ is a preacher who not only allows, but encourages his wife to pick apart his sermons every week without getting insecure about his manhood. He stands in the kitchen while I cook and talks about deep, complicated theological issues that most people would only talk about with other Bible scholars. Essentially, he seems to think I have a highly developed brain that can withstand all sorts of intellectual vigor. I appreciate that. And the best part is that he helps with the dishes after dinner, and we usually talk theology then, as well.
So Limbaugh and all who prescribe to his way of thinking on this issue, feminist are not just a bunch of "unattractive women". Feminist are women of all levels of attractiveness who believe in the equality of the sexes and men who are secure enough in their masculinity to accept this equality. That is who a feminist is.
After a few Sunday morning Bible classes that focused on women in the church, I have really been examining my views on feminism and my own role in society and, more importantly, the church. After one particular class where my feminism flared out a little more visibly than usual, I was asked by a fellow classmate what my father is like. Basically, she was trying to figure out the roots of my feminism. The more I thought about her question, the more I realized a startling discovery.
Limbaugh's gross misrepresentation of feminism is unfortunately not uncommon in our society, but after contemplating my church friend's question, I came to realize something that truly defies society's feminist stereotype: I realized that the three strongest feminist I personally know are all men. I am speaking of my father, brother, and husband. Let me explain.
Nearly everyday of my youth, my father told me how great I was. In fact, his parenting technique reminds me of Tina Fey's acceptance speech at the Emmy's last year when she thanked her parents for "somehow raising me to have confidence that is disproportionate with my looks and abilities. Well done. That is what all parents should do." He constantly told me that I was just as smart as my brother (which he was wrong about, but I don't hold it against him). The expectation in my house was clear: I, the daughter, was equal in ability and potential to the first born son. Take that, our ridiculous patriarchal culture!
Then there was my brother. He's an English major. I don't think I have to say much else. To sum it up, the guy is a raving feminist who has constantly affirmed both my artistic pursuits and my intellectual development.
And, of course, there is BJ. BJ is a preacher who not only allows, but encourages his wife to pick apart his sermons every week without getting insecure about his manhood. He stands in the kitchen while I cook and talks about deep, complicated theological issues that most people would only talk about with other Bible scholars. Essentially, he seems to think I have a highly developed brain that can withstand all sorts of intellectual vigor. I appreciate that. And the best part is that he helps with the dishes after dinner, and we usually talk theology then, as well.
So Limbaugh and all who prescribe to his way of thinking on this issue, feminist are not just a bunch of "unattractive women". Feminist are women of all levels of attractiveness who believe in the equality of the sexes and men who are secure enough in their masculinity to accept this equality. That is who a feminist is.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
To my ACU friends
Even though it has been nearly two years since I graduated from college, old running jokes still pop up in my head from time to time. This is especially true of my freshman year when so much of my time was spent with my brother, his friends Will, and the Fat Tuesday girls. So, anyways, tonight at church we sang "There's a Stirring," a nice, normal praise song sung at many churches across the country. But instead of thinking about the emotions that should be "stirring" in me while listening to this song, I immediately thought of Will and diarrhea. I'm not going to go into why I thought that or how any of it is connected. The point is, I thought about Will and diarrhea tonight at church, and that is disturbing.
So I'm wondering, to all of my college friends who read this blog, do these memories creep up on you, which memories have remained the clearest, and are they as disturbing as the ones I find myself remember? I will make me feel better if I'm not the only one.
So I'm wondering, to all of my college friends who read this blog, do these memories creep up on you, which memories have remained the clearest, and are they as disturbing as the ones I find myself remember? I will make me feel better if I'm not the only one.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Conversation with a friend last night
Me: I'm packing Gus up, and we're heading down to Texas for spring break in a few weeks.
Friend: Are you taking Gus because he makes you feel safer.
Me: No, we just both get separation anxiety when we're apart.
Friend: Are you taking Gus because he makes you feel safer.
Me: No, we just both get separation anxiety when we're apart.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Update on Dad
The procedure went very well this morning, and the reports were good. For now, no heart surgery (yay!) and his heart and lungs are in great working order. So here is a big sigh of relief and a very happy daughter.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
I am way, way too much like my father.
Right at this very moment, I am such a bundle of nerves that you would swear if you poked my upper back (where I happen to hold tension), that I am actually made of steel. Or better yet, that I have muscles.
Unfortunately, it really is just nerves. My dad is having some heart problems again, and he is going in tomorrow for a procedure called a TEE. From what I understand, they will send something down his esophagus to take a good look at the back of his heart.
Chances are there is nothing too terribly wrong, although he might end up having some heart surgery. But my dad has a unique capacity for always assuming the worst. He has managed to convince himself based off of a flippant comment from the doctor that lung cancer is causing the heart problems. He's never smoked, and he has no symptoms whatsoever of lung problems, but he is convinced.
My brother, the most non-dramatic person you could ever possible meet, is able to see the absurdity in this, make a joke that breaks the tension in the room, and go on with life with the attitude of 'I'll worry about it when there is actually something to worry about' (which is almost never).
I, unfortunately, am very much my father's daughter: we look alike, we like the same things, we can both get worked into a fury over five minutes of Fox News, and we have neurotic anxiety. I fight the encroaching thoughts of 'it must be something awful,' but I rarely, or never, win the battle. These thoughts work themselves into my psyche, set up camp, and don't leave until there is absolutely no shadow of a doubt that what I am fearing is false. In the mean time, I am left shaky, tense, and probably creating my own stress-induced health problems that I am quite certain will strongly resemble those of my father.
So anyways, please say a prayer for my father, his heart, his anxiety, and his neurotic daughter. We all need help this week.
Unfortunately, it really is just nerves. My dad is having some heart problems again, and he is going in tomorrow for a procedure called a TEE. From what I understand, they will send something down his esophagus to take a good look at the back of his heart.
Chances are there is nothing too terribly wrong, although he might end up having some heart surgery. But my dad has a unique capacity for always assuming the worst. He has managed to convince himself based off of a flippant comment from the doctor that lung cancer is causing the heart problems. He's never smoked, and he has no symptoms whatsoever of lung problems, but he is convinced.
My brother, the most non-dramatic person you could ever possible meet, is able to see the absurdity in this, make a joke that breaks the tension in the room, and go on with life with the attitude of 'I'll worry about it when there is actually something to worry about' (which is almost never).
I, unfortunately, am very much my father's daughter: we look alike, we like the same things, we can both get worked into a fury over five minutes of Fox News, and we have neurotic anxiety. I fight the encroaching thoughts of 'it must be something awful,' but I rarely, or never, win the battle. These thoughts work themselves into my psyche, set up camp, and don't leave until there is absolutely no shadow of a doubt that what I am fearing is false. In the mean time, I am left shaky, tense, and probably creating my own stress-induced health problems that I am quite certain will strongly resemble those of my father.
So anyways, please say a prayer for my father, his heart, his anxiety, and his neurotic daughter. We all need help this week.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
A few things I love about my husband: A Valentine's post
We aren't the sort of couple that puts too much into Valentine's Day. In fact, the plan for this year is that I will make a fancy Italian meal, and BJ will make some brownies. We might even light some candles and drink sparkling grape juice in wine glasses. That is about as far as we go.
But Valentine's is the day of love, so I'm going to get all mushy for a second and reflect on a few things I love about BJ:
1. Since I started working full time, he does the dishes every night.
2. He can pull out really good one-liners from Scrubs. I think he does it so well because he is entirely too much like the leading character, JD.
3. He can laugh at himself. Sunday, some of our youth group girls made him do Wii Fit, and he was a very good sport about his character being chubby and rubbing his belly.
4. He doesn't hide what he is thinking or feeling, so I don't have to sit around trying to read his mind.
5. He's is the consummate budgeter. It takes a lot of work on his part, but he keeps us out of the red.
6. He likes it when I play the piano, and he always encourages me on my art.
7. He never compromises his ethics for security. (I'm sorry to say that this has sometimes not been my favorite trait.)
8. He's genuine.
9. He doesn't have even an inkling of pretentiousness about him.
10. Being married to him is never, ever, ever boring.
But Valentine's is the day of love, so I'm going to get all mushy for a second and reflect on a few things I love about BJ:
1. Since I started working full time, he does the dishes every night.
2. He can pull out really good one-liners from Scrubs. I think he does it so well because he is entirely too much like the leading character, JD.
3. He can laugh at himself. Sunday, some of our youth group girls made him do Wii Fit, and he was a very good sport about his character being chubby and rubbing his belly.
4. He doesn't hide what he is thinking or feeling, so I don't have to sit around trying to read his mind.
5. He's is the consummate budgeter. It takes a lot of work on his part, but he keeps us out of the red.
6. He likes it when I play the piano, and he always encourages me on my art.
7. He never compromises his ethics for security. (I'm sorry to say that this has sometimes not been my favorite trait.)
8. He's genuine.
9. He doesn't have even an inkling of pretentiousness about him.
10. Being married to him is never, ever, ever boring.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
A Texan put out in the cold...
For the past two mornings, I have watched steam from my exhaust pipe freeze directly on the asphalt. It is currently a whopping 14 degrees, which saddly enough, is toasty after yesterday. Why do I live here?
Quick update: BJ and I still have no power at our house. Our dogs are in Alton with BJ's parents, and I am missing them terribly. We watched a movie on BJ's lap top last night that had a huge dog in it with very cute ears. It made me miss Gus's ears. I actually missed a dog's ears. But other than missing certain aspects of normal life, I just feel very blessed right now to have friends with a generator.
Quick update: BJ and I still have no power at our house. Our dogs are in Alton with BJ's parents, and I am missing them terribly. We watched a movie on BJ's lap top last night that had a huge dog in it with very cute ears. It made me miss Gus's ears. I actually missed a dog's ears. But other than missing certain aspects of normal life, I just feel very blessed right now to have friends with a generator.
Monday, February 02, 2009
25 Things
I was tagged on Facebook to do a list of twenty-five random things about me. Here's my list:
1. As a child, anytime I got very upset, I would run to my room, lay in bed, and concentrate on marching bands in parades. It always made me feel better.
2. Now when I get upset, I lay on the floor with my dog, Gus.
3. I once dreamed I was making out with Bob Marley. The latter part of the dream was spent with me fretting over the possibility of BJ breaking up with me.
4. Sometimes I like to wear clothes that aren't necessarily pretty (like my mustard-colored sweater) because it makes me feel liberated from always trying to fit in or be what people expect me to be.
5. Most of the jewelry I wear is cheap Avon jewelry my Grandma Pierce bought in the 70s and 80s.
6. Name any food item, and I can probably tell you the calorie content in a serving size. I am obsessed with calorie counting.
7. When I can't fall asleep, I go through the alphabet thinking of baby names for each letter. Some nights I do girl names, and other nights I do boy names. Incidentally, since I am married to a Bible scholar of sorts, my children will probably end up with weird Hebrew names. Please do not make fun of them.
8. I don't see the point in having glasses unless you are going to look like a librarian. I always go all out with big, plastic frames, and I wear them a lot.
9. Ever since my Grandma Pierce died, I have had a hard time playing the piano without getting depressed. After ten years, I thought it would get better.
10. The first thing I do every morning is look up political articles on the internet. When I come across ones I really like, I e-mail it to people I think will enjoy it. I kind of feel sorry for the people who keep getting these e-mails.
11. I once got fired for a blog post about not liking children. After over a year, I can finally laugh about it.
12. When BJ and I are having a rough day, we watch the "My Musical" episode of season 6 Scrubs. I once got cracked up in church because a song we were singing sounded exactly like my favorite song from the episode, "Everything Comes Down to Poo."
13. If I could be reincarnated, I would come back as a tall black woman with a HUGE Afro. I love Afros.
14. My friends here in Farmington joke that I am an elitist. I think they might be on to something.
15. BJ was the first and only guy I've ever kissed.
16. I like old things. My house is all kinds of quirky due to its old age, but I wouldn't trade it in for a brand new, enormous, well-functioning mansion. I was very excited when I first moved in because it smelled like my Grandma Farr's old farm house.
17. My favorite part of being a preacher's wife is proofing the sermons. I get a great deal of satisfaction from hearing a well-crafted sentence from the pulpit that I helped construct.
18. When I look at my own artwork, all I can see are flaws. Somehow, though, I don't want to stop making it.
19. I always assigned emotions to inanimate objects as a child. I once cried two day after eating at Pizza Hut because I was afraid I had hurt the feelings of a piece of pizza I had left uneaten on my plate.
20. The preacher who performed mine and BJ's wedding ceremony said that I was a curious mixture of domesticity and feminism. My brother told him that is why they call me a "domestic feminist."
21. My best friend, Theresa, and I once hid in my house with cast iron skillets and tennis rackets because we thought there was an intruder. It ended up being our brothers. I have no idea what a couple of ten year old girls were going to do with those weapons.
22. When I was about five years old, I had multiple dreams about Saddam Hussein attacking me and my family.
23. My idol is Doris Kearns Goodwin. She is a historian who often appears on PBS. This, of course, reveals the extent of my nerdiness.
24. I schedule my day around NPR. (If any doubts were left about my nerdiness, that cleared them up.)
25. All of my passwords and usernames revolve around Gone with the Wind. When I was a kid, they would air Gone with the Wind once a year on TV. My Grandma Pierce and I would watch it while eating Little Debbies.
1. As a child, anytime I got very upset, I would run to my room, lay in bed, and concentrate on marching bands in parades. It always made me feel better.
2. Now when I get upset, I lay on the floor with my dog, Gus.
3. I once dreamed I was making out with Bob Marley. The latter part of the dream was spent with me fretting over the possibility of BJ breaking up with me.
4. Sometimes I like to wear clothes that aren't necessarily pretty (like my mustard-colored sweater) because it makes me feel liberated from always trying to fit in or be what people expect me to be.
5. Most of the jewelry I wear is cheap Avon jewelry my Grandma Pierce bought in the 70s and 80s.
6. Name any food item, and I can probably tell you the calorie content in a serving size. I am obsessed with calorie counting.
7. When I can't fall asleep, I go through the alphabet thinking of baby names for each letter. Some nights I do girl names, and other nights I do boy names. Incidentally, since I am married to a Bible scholar of sorts, my children will probably end up with weird Hebrew names. Please do not make fun of them.
8. I don't see the point in having glasses unless you are going to look like a librarian. I always go all out with big, plastic frames, and I wear them a lot.
9. Ever since my Grandma Pierce died, I have had a hard time playing the piano without getting depressed. After ten years, I thought it would get better.
10. The first thing I do every morning is look up political articles on the internet. When I come across ones I really like, I e-mail it to people I think will enjoy it. I kind of feel sorry for the people who keep getting these e-mails.
11. I once got fired for a blog post about not liking children. After over a year, I can finally laugh about it.
12. When BJ and I are having a rough day, we watch the "My Musical" episode of season 6 Scrubs. I once got cracked up in church because a song we were singing sounded exactly like my favorite song from the episode, "Everything Comes Down to Poo."
13. If I could be reincarnated, I would come back as a tall black woman with a HUGE Afro. I love Afros.
14. My friends here in Farmington joke that I am an elitist. I think they might be on to something.
15. BJ was the first and only guy I've ever kissed.
16. I like old things. My house is all kinds of quirky due to its old age, but I wouldn't trade it in for a brand new, enormous, well-functioning mansion. I was very excited when I first moved in because it smelled like my Grandma Farr's old farm house.
17. My favorite part of being a preacher's wife is proofing the sermons. I get a great deal of satisfaction from hearing a well-crafted sentence from the pulpit that I helped construct.
18. When I look at my own artwork, all I can see are flaws. Somehow, though, I don't want to stop making it.
19. I always assigned emotions to inanimate objects as a child. I once cried two day after eating at Pizza Hut because I was afraid I had hurt the feelings of a piece of pizza I had left uneaten on my plate.
20. The preacher who performed mine and BJ's wedding ceremony said that I was a curious mixture of domesticity and feminism. My brother told him that is why they call me a "domestic feminist."
21. My best friend, Theresa, and I once hid in my house with cast iron skillets and tennis rackets because we thought there was an intruder. It ended up being our brothers. I have no idea what a couple of ten year old girls were going to do with those weapons.
22. When I was about five years old, I had multiple dreams about Saddam Hussein attacking me and my family.
23. My idol is Doris Kearns Goodwin. She is a historian who often appears on PBS. This, of course, reveals the extent of my nerdiness.
24. I schedule my day around NPR. (If any doubts were left about my nerdiness, that cleared them up.)
25. All of my passwords and usernames revolve around Gone with the Wind. When I was a kid, they would air Gone with the Wind once a year on TV. My Grandma Pierce and I would watch it while eating Little Debbies.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
The plight of an over-protective herding dog
My New Year's resolution (to be boring) is slowly disintegrating. For the first time in my life, I am a refugee. Mine and BJ's new home was hit hard by the storms in Kentucky. We have no power, water, or heat, so we are currently at BJ's parent's house. We're okay, and, thankfully, our church members are doing okay, but it is going to be a very long time before things are back to normal. In fact, it is going to be a very long time before we have electricity.
If you want to hear more about everything, give me a call. For now, I don't feel like recording everything that has happened. Honestly, it is still just a little too hard to believe. Instead, I just want to tell one of the nuggets of a good story that has emerged from this mess.
Tuesday night was the first night without power at our house. Luckily (we thought), the church office still had power, so we settled down on BJ's futton and started watching movies on Netflix. At about 8:00 p.m., however, a tree fell into the transformer in Farmington, and BJ and I were forced to try and find a warm place to sleep. We found a place for us fairly quickly, but the dogs were a bit trickier. Most people in Farmington don't keep housepets, so BJ and I were going to have to lock them up in our frigid laundrey room. However, since we are one of those pathetic couples with no children who treat their dogs like they are their babies (yes, I realize we are that couple), the idea of this traumatized us. Thankfully, our normal dogsetter had a log fireplace and was at home, so we dropped the dogs off there.
At this person's house, there were about 8 people bunkered down (every house with any source of heat was full). Of course, these people were moving around trying to get settled into the one room with a fireplace. Sienna and Gus are pretty attentive, so they knew by this time that something was going on, mommy and daddy were stressed out and gone for the night, and things were dangerous outside. For Sienna, this translated into being neurotically restless. For Gus, this meant he had to save everyone under his domain of protection, which, 0f course, was everyone in the house. Anytime people would go near the door he would start pushing them around and herding them away from danger. It was as if he was saying, "Don't you realize it is dangerous out there?" Poor guy. He has so much responsibility in life.
I wasn't there to see it. I only heard about it after the fact, but it is still nice to know that despite how difficult the past few days have been, Gus is still Gus. He is still trying to take care of everyone, and it is a heavy wieght on those shoulders.
I would like to ask for prayers for everyone in our region. It is an odd thing going through a natural disaster of this magnitude. I don't know how to explain it, but just keep them all in your prayers.
If you want to hear more about everything, give me a call. For now, I don't feel like recording everything that has happened. Honestly, it is still just a little too hard to believe. Instead, I just want to tell one of the nuggets of a good story that has emerged from this mess.
Tuesday night was the first night without power at our house. Luckily (we thought), the church office still had power, so we settled down on BJ's futton and started watching movies on Netflix. At about 8:00 p.m., however, a tree fell into the transformer in Farmington, and BJ and I were forced to try and find a warm place to sleep. We found a place for us fairly quickly, but the dogs were a bit trickier. Most people in Farmington don't keep housepets, so BJ and I were going to have to lock them up in our frigid laundrey room. However, since we are one of those pathetic couples with no children who treat their dogs like they are their babies (yes, I realize we are that couple), the idea of this traumatized us. Thankfully, our normal dogsetter had a log fireplace and was at home, so we dropped the dogs off there.
At this person's house, there were about 8 people bunkered down (every house with any source of heat was full). Of course, these people were moving around trying to get settled into the one room with a fireplace. Sienna and Gus are pretty attentive, so they knew by this time that something was going on, mommy and daddy were stressed out and gone for the night, and things were dangerous outside. For Sienna, this translated into being neurotically restless. For Gus, this meant he had to save everyone under his domain of protection, which, 0f course, was everyone in the house. Anytime people would go near the door he would start pushing them around and herding them away from danger. It was as if he was saying, "Don't you realize it is dangerous out there?" Poor guy. He has so much responsibility in life.
I wasn't there to see it. I only heard about it after the fact, but it is still nice to know that despite how difficult the past few days have been, Gus is still Gus. He is still trying to take care of everyone, and it is a heavy wieght on those shoulders.
I would like to ask for prayers for everyone in our region. It is an odd thing going through a natural disaster of this magnitude. I don't know how to explain it, but just keep them all in your prayers.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
what's up
My blog is supposed to be a record of my life, and it recently occured to me that most people probably wouldn't really know what I am up to if they had read my blog the past couple of months. To remedy this, I've decided to do a quick post that is simply what is going on in my life, so here it is.
So that is life. Work, study, paint. Not a bad life, or at least I'm not going to complain.
- The biggest change in my life is my new job as administrative assistant in the AIMS program at Murray State University. I love my job. Or rather, I love the people I work with, and I am coming to love the job also as it is developing. In the summer, we will have over a hundred high school students on campus taking college courses (I might even teach an art course). It promises to be an interesting summer.
- I have also started a new graduate program this month. I am seeking a Masters in Public Administration. Right now I am taking the introductory course. Basically, I am reading page after page after page analyzing our political system. As a political junky, it is not half so boring as it sounds.
- My favorite time of the week is when BJ lets me proof his sermons. I get to ask him all the hard questions, decipher what he is trying to say but not quite saying, and help him work through arguments that aren't developing. It is challenging and facinating and wonderful. But, shh, don't tell anyone a woman is helping with the sermons.
- Despite being really busy, my main goal is to keep up my art. I know I am pursuing a degree far and away from an MFA, but art is still my first priority. It just unfortunately doesn't make money. So, anyways, I've been working every night on art when I'm done with homework. This is the painting I just finished (please excuse what an awful photograph this is):
So that is life. Work, study, paint. Not a bad life, or at least I'm not going to complain.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Yesterday was a good day.
I think I'll just leave it at that. In fact, I think Sasha Obama can say what I'm thinking better than I can.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
One way to describe my brother
This Sunday after church, I spent a little time talking to the brother of a girl with whom I am wanting to set up my brother. I don't usually do this sort of thing, but I think they might be fairly compatible; who knows, they might get at least a friend out of the whole thing. Unfortunately for my match making prowess, my husband is vehemently opposed to all forms of setting people up. Here is the conversation that followed in the car:
me: Her brother thought it was a good idea, also.
bj: Does he know John?
me: No, but Bro is just me with boy parts.
As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I got cracked up at what I had said, so I immediately called my brother so that he too could enjoy my clever sense of humor. This was my brother's response while also laughing: "Well that isn't exactly true (stuttering)...but the 'boy parts' part of it is true." He later recommended that I blog on this to embarrass our mother. So of course, (I have always done what my brother tells me to do, even when it is idiotic) I decided to oblige. So here's a post for the specific purpose of making my easily blushable mother blush. hehe
Here's a picture of me and Bro at Christmas. I like it because he looks sinister, and I look short and happy.
me: Her brother thought it was a good idea, also.
bj: Does he know John?
me: No, but Bro is just me with boy parts.
As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I got cracked up at what I had said, so I immediately called my brother so that he too could enjoy my clever sense of humor. This was my brother's response while also laughing: "Well that isn't exactly true (stuttering)...but the 'boy parts' part of it is true." He later recommended that I blog on this to embarrass our mother. So of course, (I have always done what my brother tells me to do, even when it is idiotic) I decided to oblige. So here's a post for the specific purpose of making my easily blushable mother blush. hehe
Here's a picture of me and Bro at Christmas. I like it because he looks sinister, and I look short and happy.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
New Year's Resolution: Be Boring
I just caught myself making the most alarming comment on a friend's blog. Kayla, one of my best friends from college, was writing about how 2009 has the potential to be the first year in a long while when she won't face a major life change. Here was my comment: "That's my goal for this year: no major life changes. I am so tired of constantly being in adjustment mode. Hopefully, on Dec. 31, 2009, I will be toasting an impressively uneventful year."
How boring could I possibly sound! And, yet, that is exactly how I feel. Here's a short recap of the past 6 years.
2003: graduate from high school, go to college, live in a dorm
2004: start dating BJ, moved to another dorm
2005: get engaged, move to apartment
2006: move in with my brother, then move to mine and BJ's first home, get married, and then find out that I had married a preacher (that was a shocker)
2007: graduate from college and move to Frisco (catching a theme here with the whole moving thing.)
2008: move to Kentucky, for crying out loud (what does that saying even mean? All I know is that I wanted to express the absurdity of this last one), and get a real, full-time, dress nicely sort of job.
So yeah, I'm okay with the mundane this year. I like my house. I don't want to leave it. I'm really, really tired of moving. And I don't want any more major adjustments. Other than taking a few graduate courses, life should rock along smoothly this year. For a girl who hasn't lived in the some place for over a year in 6 years, that is sounding pretty good.
How boring could I possibly sound! And, yet, that is exactly how I feel. Here's a short recap of the past 6 years.
2003: graduate from high school, go to college, live in a dorm
2004: start dating BJ, moved to another dorm
2005: get engaged, move to apartment
2006: move in with my brother, then move to mine and BJ's first home, get married, and then find out that I had married a preacher (that was a shocker)
2007: graduate from college and move to Frisco (catching a theme here with the whole moving thing.)
2008: move to Kentucky, for crying out loud (what does that saying even mean? All I know is that I wanted to express the absurdity of this last one), and get a real, full-time, dress nicely sort of job.
So yeah, I'm okay with the mundane this year. I like my house. I don't want to leave it. I'm really, really tired of moving. And I don't want any more major adjustments. Other than taking a few graduate courses, life should rock along smoothly this year. For a girl who hasn't lived in the some place for over a year in 6 years, that is sounding pretty good.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
We made it back!!!
It has been a long week and a half since my last post. We have spent most of the time on the road. And, of course, I finally got to see my Texas. It was wonderful. In the past week, I have had a chile relleno, chicken taco salad, stuffed bell-peppers, a whole lot of rice and refried beans, and my favorite fast-food take on Mexican, Taco Bueno. So yeah, it was a good week.
The best part of my week was getting my Christmas present from my mother. Turns out, that crazy lady has spent the past six months slaving aver a quilt for me, and I had no idea. It is a bear paw quilt (my favorite pattern) and it has some of Grandma Farr's fabric in it. I've already got it on our bed upstairs. Here is a picture of it right after I opened it.
Christmas was wonderful, but I can sincerely say that it felt pretty good coming home. This house and this area has become home to us in a short period of time, but as always, one has to leave for a little while to truly realize that where they live has become a home.
The best part of my week was getting my Christmas present from my mother. Turns out, that crazy lady has spent the past six months slaving aver a quilt for me, and I had no idea. It is a bear paw quilt (my favorite pattern) and it has some of Grandma Farr's fabric in it. I've already got it on our bed upstairs. Here is a picture of it right after I opened it.
Christmas was wonderful, but I can sincerely say that it felt pretty good coming home. This house and this area has become home to us in a short period of time, but as always, one has to leave for a little while to truly realize that where they live has become a home.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
We made it!!!
Last night was one of the scariest nights of my life. BJ and I left at 1:30 from Farmington to get to northeastern Indiana for Christmas with his family. Everything went along fairly smoothly except for a steady stream of rain until we hit Indianapolis. At 8:30, we were only an hour and a half away from our destination, we had just gotten around Indianapolis, and we were going along steadily when traffic suddenly came to a stand still. Apparently, there was a wreck about ten miles ahead of us. With traffic stopped, the rain that had fallen all day turned into a sheet of ice, and the rain that was still falling made it even slicker. Before we knew it, everyone was sliding around, including us. Realizing that we were not going to be able to go all the way, I called my brother and asked him to start searching for hotel rooms. He found one, and I called to make a reservation. It was about 12 miles down the road from where we first stopped. We pulled into the hotel at 1:00 in the morning. It took four and a half hours to drive 12 miles, and it was the most terrifying 12 miles of my life (even BJ was scared, and that is saying something). Thankfully, it warmed up today, and we made the last 60 miles of our journey in an hour.
After sliding off the road, seeing cars and trucks literally lining the sides of the roads, and fearing we would have to sleep in our car on the side of the road last night (it was an actual possibility), I feel exceptionally grateful to be in a home with family enjoying Christmas. So here's to all the warm and fuzzy feelings of Christmas. They have their purpose.
After sliding off the road, seeing cars and trucks literally lining the sides of the roads, and fearing we would have to sleep in our car on the side of the road last night (it was an actual possibility), I feel exceptionally grateful to be in a home with family enjoying Christmas. So here's to all the warm and fuzzy feelings of Christmas. They have their purpose.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
I'm strong enough to face the cold. I'm strong enough to face the cold. I'm strong enough...
This has become my morning chant (or you might say pep talk) while crouched in the fetal position in front of our space heater.
Eleven days to Texas (and Texas had better deliver some unseasonably warm weather.)
Eleven days to Texas (and Texas had better deliver some unseasonably warm weather.)
Friday, December 12, 2008
The silver lining to an economy in shambles
Yes. It is absolutely glum to watch the news right now. It is heartwrenching to see the unemployment rate climbing each mother, and I can't imagine knowing that Christmas at home is impossible because that home was lost to a foreclosure. These are trying times, but there are still blessings in which to rejoice.
Today I found out that due to economic reasons, Murray State will be closing a few extra days over the Christmas break. This means that instead of a week, I get two full weeks of paid vacation. And this means that I might get to see Texas our Texas after all. It has been nearly five months since I have seen Texas, over six months since I stepped foot in Abilene, and nearly seven months since I slept in my bed at home in Menard. I thought I was going to have to wait until spring break in March, but it looks like I might just have to wait two weeks. The thought of those short, ugly, shrubby mesquite trees lining a huge (hopefully cloudless) Texas sky is putting a big lump in my throat right now. I might even have to go out and buy a big yellow rose to take home with me after work.
Today I found out that due to economic reasons, Murray State will be closing a few extra days over the Christmas break. This means that instead of a week, I get two full weeks of paid vacation. And this means that I might get to see Texas our Texas after all. It has been nearly five months since I have seen Texas, over six months since I stepped foot in Abilene, and nearly seven months since I slept in my bed at home in Menard. I thought I was going to have to wait until spring break in March, but it looks like I might just have to wait two weeks. The thought of those short, ugly, shrubby mesquite trees lining a huge (hopefully cloudless) Texas sky is putting a big lump in my throat right now. I might even have to go out and buy a big yellow rose to take home with me after work.
Monday, December 08, 2008
A dog with a sophisticated palette, sort of
Being a Lab, Sienna will eat anything and everything we put in her food bowl or that falls to the floor while I'm cooking. Anything. Gus, however, is not a glutton, and he has been known to go days without eating a bite of food. After over a year and a half of trying to learn how to keep my dog from starving, I finally figured out what the problem is: Gus only likes food when it is moist and fresh. He would always eat dry food when we first opened the bag, but after a few days of it drying out, he lost interest. To remedy this, I have started mixing one can of wet food into his dry food everyday. Now, he is eating a lot, and this makes me happy.
The other day, BJ and I were in Walmart when I remembered that I was out of Gus's canned food. We went over to the dog food section, and I started throwing in cans of the different flavors Gus likes: beef, beef stew, turkey and bacon, lamb and rice, etc. Here is the conversation that followed between me and BJ:
BJ: Do you really think Gus cares if you get different flavors?
me: Of course, I don't want him to get bored with just beef or just chicken. Gus is pickier than your dog.
BJ: Yay, you know what else that sophisticated palette likes? Cat turds.
Okay, he sort of got me on that one. But I will continue to provide Gus with the best cuisine Ol' Roy Dog Foods has to offer.
The other day, BJ and I were in Walmart when I remembered that I was out of Gus's canned food. We went over to the dog food section, and I started throwing in cans of the different flavors Gus likes: beef, beef stew, turkey and bacon, lamb and rice, etc. Here is the conversation that followed between me and BJ:
BJ: Do you really think Gus cares if you get different flavors?
me: Of course, I don't want him to get bored with just beef or just chicken. Gus is pickier than your dog.
BJ: Yay, you know what else that sophisticated palette likes? Cat turds.
Okay, he sort of got me on that one. But I will continue to provide Gus with the best cuisine Ol' Roy Dog Foods has to offer.
Monday, December 01, 2008
Sienna's Thanksgiving dinner
Its back to work after what was a very memorable Thanksgiving. One of my best friends from high school, Garrett, and his wife, Sarah, came down to Kentucky for the holiday. They have a 17 month old daughter, Charlotte, who kept us pretty much entertained for three days. I was nervous about having a baby in the house because I am notoriously bad with kids, we have two giant dogs roaming around, and our house is basically a collection of hard edges and sharp corners. But amazingly enough, Charlotte came out of the holiday unscathed, so I'd call it a successful Thanksgiving.
As I said, this Thanksgiving had many memorable moments, all of which we can attribute to Charlotte and her tireless admirer, Sienna. However, one moment stands out in particular.
It was Thanksgiving afternoon, and the four adults were all in the kitchen either preparing for the big meal or just chatting. Charlotte was busy exploring everything within reach of a 17 month old. BJ and Garrett had done a little grocery shopping earlier, but BJ had neglected to put up all of the groceries, basically picking a choosing which ones he would put away. Unfortunately, one item he did not choose was a carton of 18 eggs. Charlotte climbed up unto one of the dining room chairs, saw the pretty green carton, and pulled up on the lid. Garrett was watching this (probably in slow motion), and I was fortunate enough to catch the look of horror and helpless that crossed his face. In the middle of our eat-in kitchen, in the middle of the Thanksgiving meal preparation, 18 eggs crashed to the floor. There were only four survivors.
Charlotte's eyebrows popped up in an adorable "oops" expression, and I immediately bent over laughing until tears came as the parents apologetically start cleaning. Of course, BJ helped the cleaning process by calling in his dog. She licked up a large portion of the mess for us.
As Garrett was bent over cleaning, he looked up at me and said, "This is going to be a blog post, isn't it? " Yep, it is.
As I said, this Thanksgiving had many memorable moments, all of which we can attribute to Charlotte and her tireless admirer, Sienna. However, one moment stands out in particular.
It was Thanksgiving afternoon, and the four adults were all in the kitchen either preparing for the big meal or just chatting. Charlotte was busy exploring everything within reach of a 17 month old. BJ and Garrett had done a little grocery shopping earlier, but BJ had neglected to put up all of the groceries, basically picking a choosing which ones he would put away. Unfortunately, one item he did not choose was a carton of 18 eggs. Charlotte climbed up unto one of the dining room chairs, saw the pretty green carton, and pulled up on the lid. Garrett was watching this (probably in slow motion), and I was fortunate enough to catch the look of horror and helpless that crossed his face. In the middle of our eat-in kitchen, in the middle of the Thanksgiving meal preparation, 18 eggs crashed to the floor. There were only four survivors.
Charlotte's eyebrows popped up in an adorable "oops" expression, and I immediately bent over laughing until tears came as the parents apologetically start cleaning. Of course, BJ helped the cleaning process by calling in his dog. She licked up a large portion of the mess for us.
As Garrett was bent over cleaning, he looked up at me and said, "This is going to be a blog post, isn't it? " Yep, it is.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Conversation with my mother as I was on my way to work.
Me: I am bringing a few picture frames and some pictures to cozy up my office.
Mom: I bet one picture is of BJ and the other is Gus.
Me: Am I that predictable.
Mom: Yes. I think you love Gus more than you love your father or I.
Me: Well if it makes you feel better, Gus probably beats out BJ, too.
(Not really. I love my husband, but it is a tight race. And also, for the record, there are three pics: one of me and BJ, one of our three babies, and one of me and BJ with my parents. So there.)
Mom: I bet one picture is of BJ and the other is Gus.
Me: Am I that predictable.
Mom: Yes. I think you love Gus more than you love your father or I.
Me: Well if it makes you feel better, Gus probably beats out BJ, too.
(Not really. I love my husband, but it is a tight race. And also, for the record, there are three pics: one of me and BJ, one of our three babies, and one of me and BJ with my parents. So there.)
Sunday, November 23, 2008
So here is how you pass a cold fall weekend in the middle-of-nowhere Kentucky...
First, you buy two rakes, bundle up, and head outside to put into piles the massive amount of dead leaves that has covered you lawn. It will take about three hours and approximately forty piles to once again see the ground that was hidden. While you are doing this, a few more leaves will fall as nature laughs at man's unending attempts to control nature. The laughter will most likely irritate you.
After the piles are created, you take a large tarp, lay it on the ground next to a pile, load it with leaves, and then take it to a designated area for burning later. You repeat this for each pile. It takes a really long time and a lot of walking. By the time you are finished, you have a pile something like this one (think 8 feet wide and 3.5 feet tall):
When this is all finished, you will hurt. Every muscle of your body will be screaming at you for suddenly doing manual labor when you know you are in fact a big, useless softy. So you go to bed, allowing unconsiousness temporarily take away the pain.
The next day, when the pain has dulled a bit, you start getting nostalgic about when you where a kid and you would run and jump in the piles of leaves every fall, so when the neighbors aren't looking, you take a leap. Unfortunately, you are heavier these days, so you end up in a position something like this:
When you finally crawl out of this mess, you find your dogs staring at you with a perplexed, yet intrigued, expression as they wonder why you are suddenly acting, well, like them. Then you notice that there are leaves all over you, and they are itchy, and they should never, ever be in the unmentionables area. But they are. So you wonder why you liked it so much once upon a time, and you take note to not get nostalgic next year. Of course, by next year, you will have forgotten, and you'll probably end up with nature laughing at you and leaves in your pants again.
After the piles are created, you take a large tarp, lay it on the ground next to a pile, load it with leaves, and then take it to a designated area for burning later. You repeat this for each pile. It takes a really long time and a lot of walking. By the time you are finished, you have a pile something like this one (think 8 feet wide and 3.5 feet tall):
When this is all finished, you will hurt. Every muscle of your body will be screaming at you for suddenly doing manual labor when you know you are in fact a big, useless softy. So you go to bed, allowing unconsiousness temporarily take away the pain.The next day, when the pain has dulled a bit, you start getting nostalgic about when you where a kid and you would run and jump in the piles of leaves every fall, so when the neighbors aren't looking, you take a leap. Unfortunately, you are heavier these days, so you end up in a position something like this:
When you finally crawl out of this mess, you find your dogs staring at you with a perplexed, yet intrigued, expression as they wonder why you are suddenly acting, well, like them. Then you notice that there are leaves all over you, and they are itchy, and they should never, ever be in the unmentionables area. But they are. So you wonder why you liked it so much once upon a time, and you take note to not get nostalgic next year. Of course, by next year, you will have forgotten, and you'll probably end up with nature laughing at you and leaves in your pants again.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Life is changing these days
It has been quite a week. I got a job offer for a position at Murray State that I was really wanting, I took my GRE and got a score that puts me well on my way to grad school, and BJ and I went to Alton to spend the weekend with his parents. It was a good week, but a hectic one. Even the great outdoors seem to be busy. Leaves are falling rapidly now, and the weather is getting bitingly cold. Despite the busy-ness of my life right now, I wanted to take a few moments to appreciate the beauty of fall, so here are a few pictures of our yard before winter entirely takes over.
Friday, November 07, 2008
Just a girl and a dog on a beautiful fall day.
Just hangin' with my dog. And no, we don't care if we're dorks.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
November 4th, 2008
I've got the registration card....
...and the appropriate t-shirt (don't worry, I zipped up my hoody at the polling place so that I didn't break any laws)...
...and my lucky frog socks...
...and my favorite shoes (they've been with me through many major life events, like when I went to the political rally in Dallas and saw him in person)...
...and my mom's bracelet from when she was a kid (I don't know why, it just seemed like it could be lucky)...
...and last but not least, I winning smile. It should count for something.
Finally, mission accomplished...
...and now for the wait.
Monday, November 03, 2008
Sermon Preparation
I knew when BJ became a preacher that we would have conversations about his sermons as he worked on them. However, some of the interactions that have grown out of his sermon preparations have simply not been what I was expecting.
This afternoon, BJ was researching the history of Ephesus in preparation for an upcoming sermon and series of classes. I peeked over his shoulder while he was busy researching on the computer, and this is the picture I saw:
This is the short conversation that followed:
Me (shocked): Are those boobies?
BJ (matter-of-factly): Either that or buffalo testicles. She's a fertility goddess, so it's hard to tell.
Yeah, there is just so much wrong with that.
This afternoon, BJ was researching the history of Ephesus in preparation for an upcoming sermon and series of classes. I peeked over his shoulder while he was busy researching on the computer, and this is the picture I saw:
This is the short conversation that followed:Me (shocked): Are those boobies?
BJ (matter-of-factly): Either that or buffalo testicles. She's a fertility goddess, so it's hard to tell.
Yeah, there is just so much wrong with that.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Politicians aren't all bad
I have always striven to put my faith before my country. In my mind, this is the proper ordering of priorities. This has lead to a resistance of the culture we find in the "religious right" in which patriotism and godliness coexist dependently on one another, and therefore, one must seek to shape the social agenda of the country within narrowly defined moral statutes. Most likely, I have at times gone polar in the opposite direction to my own detriment.
What has me thinking about this is a short clip I saw on the news Friday night. Obama, who was visiting his ailing, and perhaps dying, grandmother in Hawaii, was walking alone down a street that could easily have been in any part of the nation. It looked like a worn down area, perhaps home to the lower middle class. He looked uniquely and significantly alone.
This image immediately jolted me back to a year and a half ago when I was losing my grandmother. One moment in particular stands out in my mind. Grandma was extremely ill in the hospital in San Angelo, and my family was gathered there, but I was driving back on a Saturday night to Abilene after a week of being in Menard because I had to return to school, a new husband who needed me, and a church where I was learning to be a preacher's wife for the first time. I felt extreme lonliness, and despite Grandma saying I needed to return to Abilene and to life in general, I felt like I was doing the woman who had helped raise me a horrible injustice. It was a long drive home.
The image of Obama walking in his childhood neighborhood also sent my mind in another direction. It occured to me that there must be a moment near the end of every presidentail campaign when a canidate asks himself, "Do I really want this?" And if this question hits a man at the same time he is struggling with the slipping away of a loved one, how must that hurt? How must that shake the man who is known for his coolness, for his steadiness?
At this glimpse of vulnerability in the man who might inherit our fragile country, I prayed. I have always prayed for our leaders (even the ones I don't like), but this time was different. This time I saw the humanness of the leader, and as the "politician" tag fell away, I was able to realize anew why it is we must pray for the men and women in our governement.
I do not know who will win next Tuesday, but I do know that each man is asking to acquire a daunting task. As hard as it is at times to see the humanity in the midst of the mud fight that is our political process, John McCain and Barack Obama are both men in need of our prayers. It is the habit among many of my fellow Christians to call Obama a terrorist, Muslim, socialist, etc. Of course, he is none of these things. What these labels do is simply to strip the humanity from Obama's persona, and believe me, it is hard to pray for someone you no longer see as human. So although I fully realize that the opinion of an unemployed artist in Western Kentucky is worth very little these days, I am still going to call out in my quiet little voice for awareness on Nov. 4 of the humanity of whomever wins. This is essential if we are to do what is perhaps the most patriotic act we can do: that of praying for our country.
What has me thinking about this is a short clip I saw on the news Friday night. Obama, who was visiting his ailing, and perhaps dying, grandmother in Hawaii, was walking alone down a street that could easily have been in any part of the nation. It looked like a worn down area, perhaps home to the lower middle class. He looked uniquely and significantly alone.
This image immediately jolted me back to a year and a half ago when I was losing my grandmother. One moment in particular stands out in my mind. Grandma was extremely ill in the hospital in San Angelo, and my family was gathered there, but I was driving back on a Saturday night to Abilene after a week of being in Menard because I had to return to school, a new husband who needed me, and a church where I was learning to be a preacher's wife for the first time. I felt extreme lonliness, and despite Grandma saying I needed to return to Abilene and to life in general, I felt like I was doing the woman who had helped raise me a horrible injustice. It was a long drive home.
The image of Obama walking in his childhood neighborhood also sent my mind in another direction. It occured to me that there must be a moment near the end of every presidentail campaign when a canidate asks himself, "Do I really want this?" And if this question hits a man at the same time he is struggling with the slipping away of a loved one, how must that hurt? How must that shake the man who is known for his coolness, for his steadiness?
At this glimpse of vulnerability in the man who might inherit our fragile country, I prayed. I have always prayed for our leaders (even the ones I don't like), but this time was different. This time I saw the humanness of the leader, and as the "politician" tag fell away, I was able to realize anew why it is we must pray for the men and women in our governement.
I do not know who will win next Tuesday, but I do know that each man is asking to acquire a daunting task. As hard as it is at times to see the humanity in the midst of the mud fight that is our political process, John McCain and Barack Obama are both men in need of our prayers. It is the habit among many of my fellow Christians to call Obama a terrorist, Muslim, socialist, etc. Of course, he is none of these things. What these labels do is simply to strip the humanity from Obama's persona, and believe me, it is hard to pray for someone you no longer see as human. So although I fully realize that the opinion of an unemployed artist in Western Kentucky is worth very little these days, I am still going to call out in my quiet little voice for awareness on Nov. 4 of the humanity of whomever wins. This is essential if we are to do what is perhaps the most patriotic act we can do: that of praying for our country.
Monday, October 20, 2008
A few observations following a wonderful week
My parent's returned home this weekend after a very wonderful week visiting me and BJ in Kentucky. Here are a few observations I have had about our week:
1. Job interviews aren't that different from the first day of kindergarten: it is less nerve-wrecking if your daddy takes you there.
2. Mothers never stop enjoying picking out new clothes for their little girls, and that fact just gets more and more fun with age for the "little girls."
3. Sawdust and Derby pies are both good, but Sawdust pies are better.
4. When a person's church greets that person's family like they are in fact family, it makes for a giant, mushy smorgasbord of hospitality. It's actually pretty fun.
5. I like showing off my husband's preaching chops. Might as well admit it.
6. My life is one giant love triangle: I miss Texas, but I love Kentucky, too.
7. Mom has become a political junky. What an election.
8. I now know more about snuff than my dad who has been spitting it for forty years.
9. No matter how old I get, I still cry like crazy when it's time to say goodbye...
10. ...and I still call my brother when I'm crying like crazy so that he can make me laugh.
1. Job interviews aren't that different from the first day of kindergarten: it is less nerve-wrecking if your daddy takes you there.
2. Mothers never stop enjoying picking out new clothes for their little girls, and that fact just gets more and more fun with age for the "little girls."
3. Sawdust and Derby pies are both good, but Sawdust pies are better.
4. When a person's church greets that person's family like they are in fact family, it makes for a giant, mushy smorgasbord of hospitality. It's actually pretty fun.
5. I like showing off my husband's preaching chops. Might as well admit it.
6. My life is one giant love triangle: I miss Texas, but I love Kentucky, too.
7. Mom has become a political junky. What an election.
8. I now know more about snuff than my dad who has been spitting it for forty years.
9. No matter how old I get, I still cry like crazy when it's time to say goodbye...
10. ...and I still call my brother when I'm crying like crazy so that he can make me laugh.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Family in KY
My parents have traveled 15 long hours to Kentucky over the weekend. It is their first time in this state, and so far, they love it.
I have been looking forward to the moment when my parents would see my house and experience my life here with such anticipation that it is almost surreal to actually have them here. Tonight, we set in my little country kitchen that I love so much and ate a big bowl of Dad's homemade chili. It was the perfect meal on a perfect cloudy fall day. Mom and Dad will be here for the rest of the week, so we are passing our time watching the fourth season of the Office (they were behind), eating, shopping, and playing games. It is looking to me a very good week.
I have been looking forward to the moment when my parents would see my house and experience my life here with such anticipation that it is almost surreal to actually have them here. Tonight, we set in my little country kitchen that I love so much and ate a big bowl of Dad's homemade chili. It was the perfect meal on a perfect cloudy fall day. Mom and Dad will be here for the rest of the week, so we are passing our time watching the fourth season of the Office (they were behind), eating, shopping, and playing games. It is looking to me a very good week.
Monday, October 06, 2008
Good friends. Good food. Good times.
Kayla and Darby drove down this weekend to spend some time in Kentucky. We had a really great time doing pretty much the same thing we do most Saturdays, but with good company to share it with. We woke up to a nice breakfast, drove around the country for a while, had a tasty lunch, watched a movie, took a nap, had a wonderful steak dinner topped off with warm apple pie, and then played a game of Risk in which Kayla walloped the rest of us. It was a good day. My favorite quote of the weekend was when Kayla was heading to the guest bedroom for an afternoon nap. She said, "We've got to do something to past the time until we eat again." That pretty much sums up a lazy Saturday in the middle of nowhere. And Kayla and Darby, thanks again for coming.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Super Me!
My brother tagged me on his blog to do this post. Basically, I'm just supposed to answer a few questions about my "super powers."
1. What is the most powerful thing you have done in the last 5 years?
I survived dating BJ and his baggage. And after over two years of marriage, I'm still crazy enough about him to confidently say, "I'd do it again."
2. What is your super power?
Sensitivity - I feel everything deeply.
3. If you could choose another super power now, what would it be?
Dog whisperer - mainly so that I could effectively communicate the command "stop whining" to Sienna right now.
4. Describe your superhero outfit.
My freckles are my superhero outfit. They protect me and my many gaffes against the scorn of man. Here's how: I can say or think almost anything, and people still think I am adorably naive. As someone who has always lived in extremely conservative corners of America, this has been invaluable.
5. What is your kryptonite?
It takes very little offense for me to hurt, and when my feelings get hurt, I absolutely deflate. So meanies are my kryptonite.
1. What is the most powerful thing you have done in the last 5 years?
I survived dating BJ and his baggage. And after over two years of marriage, I'm still crazy enough about him to confidently say, "I'd do it again."
2. What is your super power?
Sensitivity - I feel everything deeply.
3. If you could choose another super power now, what would it be?
Dog whisperer - mainly so that I could effectively communicate the command "stop whining" to Sienna right now.
4. Describe your superhero outfit.
My freckles are my superhero outfit. They protect me and my many gaffes against the scorn of man. Here's how: I can say or think almost anything, and people still think I am adorably naive. As someone who has always lived in extremely conservative corners of America, this has been invaluable.
5. What is your kryptonite?
It takes very little offense for me to hurt, and when my feelings get hurt, I absolutely deflate. So meanies are my kryptonite.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Rusty fields
I've done really good on the homesickness front ever since we moved to Kentucky. Despite being a life-long Texan and being very close to my family, the beauty of Kentucky and the kindness of everyone have kept me going pretty much tear-free for nearly two months. But yesterday, something happened. I was driving by a field of dead soy beans (a few farmers lost their soy crop this year). The normally bright green crop had turned a dark rusty red. Immediately, it reminded me of the beautiful barley fields along the drive between Eden and San Angelo that turn the most gorgeous shade of rust around this time each year. And suddenly, that color, one of my favorite colors, made me homesick. Out of nowhere, I felt I needed to see a short squaty mesquite tree, or eat a pecan while standing in the same spot it fell, or get really full on chips and salsa before my food comes out, or read a book in my pretty yellow room, or just see my family in person. No more pictures, the real thing.
This isn't the kind of homesickness that debilitates. It doesn't depress me all day, or take the joy out of the things I love here in Kentucky, like the smell of tobacco being smoked in the tobacco barns and my cute little home. It just creeps up on me ever once in while, like a sharp pain that quickly recedes. And it always comes with a little bit of relief. I am relieved to know that Texas isn't fading in importance and that I won't forget the things I love about it. I just have to make a home somewhere else for now.
This isn't the kind of homesickness that debilitates. It doesn't depress me all day, or take the joy out of the things I love here in Kentucky, like the smell of tobacco being smoked in the tobacco barns and my cute little home. It just creeps up on me ever once in while, like a sharp pain that quickly recedes. And it always comes with a little bit of relief. I am relieved to know that Texas isn't fading in importance and that I won't forget the things I love about it. I just have to make a home somewhere else for now.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
The road to my crazy life part 2
A while back I did a post on some of the different search terms that led people to my blog through search engines such as Google and Yahoo. Today, I was shuffling through my site meter when I saw a particularly interesting search term. Apparently, someone found my blog when they searched "inherited paranoia." I believe this leads back to a post I once did on the craziness of my dad, my dog, and myself. But anyways, I'm just pleased that something that strange leads to my blog.
Friday, September 12, 2008
What I love about my house
Speedy cleaning. We have downsized in this move about 700 sq. ft. from our last house, and I can't believe the difference it has made in cleaning. I did my weekly dusting and bathroom cleaning Tuesday. It took about 30 minutes as opposed to the 2 hours of last year.
Tony has his own level. One of my favorite features of this house is that there was a kitty door going down to the basement long before we ever moved here. This means I am able to keep Tony's kitty litter box and food out of sight (and out of nose range in the case of his litter). Also, it means that Tony has his own level to the house. BJ, the dogs, and I take the ground floor and up stairs. Tony has a full basement. Seems fair enough.
The pool, the pool, and the pool. It never really occured to me to have a pool, but now that we ended up with one, I love it. Yesterday, I was walking/jogging around the backyard for some much needed exersice, and of course, I got hot and sweaty. This is when it occured to me that I could also work out in my pool, so I put my swim suit on and hopped in. It made for a much more pleasant work out routine.
Sunlight. The house has enormous windows everywhere, and they are fabulous. I never have to turn on a light during the day, and the house looks beautiful with all of that natural light streaming in.
Atmosphere. There is something about this house that just feels comfortable. We had company last night, and one of the people walked into my kitchen and said, "Oh, you have a real country kitchen." I think that is it. I think it is that feeling that people get when they come in and the old crickety floors sound out each step. It is like that they could just as easily be stepping into their grandmother's house thirty years ago.
Our bedroom is a million miles away. The upstairs is just our bedroom and the lavender bathroom. Everytime I take someone up there, they say something along the lines of, "I can see why you fell in love with this house." When I go up there, the new found stress of being the main support system for a new preacher melts away. I hope not to jinx anything, but I can honestly say I haven't had a night yet where falling asleep up there was difficult.
Old house smell. When I walk into the house after being away for a while, I am always greeted with a breif wiff of that old-house smell. And everytime it happens, I think of the million times I walked into Grandma Farr's house.
After only two and a half week...it already feels like home.
Tony has his own level. One of my favorite features of this house is that there was a kitty door going down to the basement long before we ever moved here. This means I am able to keep Tony's kitty litter box and food out of sight (and out of nose range in the case of his litter). Also, it means that Tony has his own level to the house. BJ, the dogs, and I take the ground floor and up stairs. Tony has a full basement. Seems fair enough.
The pool, the pool, and the pool. It never really occured to me to have a pool, but now that we ended up with one, I love it. Yesterday, I was walking/jogging around the backyard for some much needed exersice, and of course, I got hot and sweaty. This is when it occured to me that I could also work out in my pool, so I put my swim suit on and hopped in. It made for a much more pleasant work out routine.
Sunlight. The house has enormous windows everywhere, and they are fabulous. I never have to turn on a light during the day, and the house looks beautiful with all of that natural light streaming in.
Atmosphere. There is something about this house that just feels comfortable. We had company last night, and one of the people walked into my kitchen and said, "Oh, you have a real country kitchen." I think that is it. I think it is that feeling that people get when they come in and the old crickety floors sound out each step. It is like that they could just as easily be stepping into their grandmother's house thirty years ago.
Our bedroom is a million miles away. The upstairs is just our bedroom and the lavender bathroom. Everytime I take someone up there, they say something along the lines of, "I can see why you fell in love with this house." When I go up there, the new found stress of being the main support system for a new preacher melts away. I hope not to jinx anything, but I can honestly say I haven't had a night yet where falling asleep up there was difficult.
Old house smell. When I walk into the house after being away for a while, I am always greeted with a breif wiff of that old-house smell. And everytime it happens, I think of the million times I walked into Grandma Farr's house.
After only two and a half week...it already feels like home.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
In the pulpit
Farmington is blessed with several talented song leaders. Today's song leader is a man who not only leads in worship, but in all aspects of the congregation. He is a man that one immediatly respects because there is this sense that he is truly, deeply, sincerely a Christian. I noticed today at the morning service that the song leader said something to BJ as he walked to the pulpit for the sermon. Tonight, he did the same, so I listened carefully. The man said, "The lord be with you, brother." I thought that was a really beautiful thing to say.
I think my new role as "preacher's wife" has made me particularly atuned to the significance of that little sentence as BJ steps to his podium. Everytime BJ starts a sermon, I get this sense that something extremely important, something much bigger that us, is about to happen. I realize I am hypersensitive to the signifigance of the sermons now that I am the "preacher's wife," but it is still a sobering feeling. BJ pours hours each week into his sermon, and I spend my own fair share of time readying them for showtime. He brings me a rough draft Wednesday or Thursday, and I try to proof them and make sure that BJ's message will come our clearly to his audience. By the time we get to Sunday morning, we have thought about every nook and cranny of the text, tweeked nuancing and swithched words around, and (in my more anal retentive moments) corrected grammar and spelling. But I still get anxious that we might have missed something, that some sentence may have a double entendre we never foresaw, that someone will be offended, that we'll find people don't agree with us and resent us for it, or worst of all, that the happiness of the past month will turn out to not be real. And every time the fears start darkening like the red storm clouds that blow over Abilene, I have to remind myself that it is in God's hands. And, yes, that the Lord is with BJ. He is with BJ because people in the congregation like our song leader pray that it will be so, because BJ prays that it will be so, because I pray that it will be so. And it is so. Week after week, it is so.
I think my new role as "preacher's wife" has made me particularly atuned to the significance of that little sentence as BJ steps to his podium. Everytime BJ starts a sermon, I get this sense that something extremely important, something much bigger that us, is about to happen. I realize I am hypersensitive to the signifigance of the sermons now that I am the "preacher's wife," but it is still a sobering feeling. BJ pours hours each week into his sermon, and I spend my own fair share of time readying them for showtime. He brings me a rough draft Wednesday or Thursday, and I try to proof them and make sure that BJ's message will come our clearly to his audience. By the time we get to Sunday morning, we have thought about every nook and cranny of the text, tweeked nuancing and swithched words around, and (in my more anal retentive moments) corrected grammar and spelling. But I still get anxious that we might have missed something, that some sentence may have a double entendre we never foresaw, that someone will be offended, that we'll find people don't agree with us and resent us for it, or worst of all, that the happiness of the past month will turn out to not be real. And every time the fears start darkening like the red storm clouds that blow over Abilene, I have to remind myself that it is in God's hands. And, yes, that the Lord is with BJ. He is with BJ because people in the congregation like our song leader pray that it will be so, because BJ prays that it will be so, because I pray that it will be so. And it is so. Week after week, it is so.
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