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.)

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Meet my new house

We have finally moved in! After a very long month of anticipation, I got into my house last Tuesday. We painted the living room Tuesday and Wednesday, and moved in our stuff Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. On Saturday afternoon, BJ's family came in, and we spent a relaxing weekend in the swimming pool. I haven't totally finished with wall hangings, but here are some pictures of the house.

These are some pictures of the living room. It was originally a light sage green, but we felt that would clash with our olive green couched, so we painted it this "aqua smoke" blue. Notice the new entertainment center from IKEA!



Next, these are a few pictures of the guest bedroom. If you come to see me, which I hope you will, you will stay in this lovely room.



This is the down stairs bathroom. Are shower curtain couldn't have matched better with the existing colors and fixtures.




We haven't finished with the office, but this is the work space I have set up for myself.


Our kitchen is one of my favorite places to be. It is a bright, happy yellow, and all of my red stuff looks fabulous in it.



Upstairs is our bedroom. The setting of the room makes it feel a million miles away from everything else. It is our own little oasis.



Also upstairs is this precious third bathroom. All it has is this beautiful tub and a ton of closet space. It's kind of like a walk in closet with a bath tub.


Lastly, here is a back yard. We have 1.8 acres of property, so the back yard is enormous. It has fruit trees, and lots of shade. And of course, our new favorite toy, the swimming pool. As a side note, if any of my friends get married while I'm living here, I fully expect the wedding and reception to be in my back yard. It is set up perfectly for the occasion.


Hope I didn't overwhelm anybody with this many pictures. I guess I'm just really, overly excited about my first home.

I'm a home owner!!!!

We closed Tuesday morning. I've been busy ever since. Think eight year old girl. Christmas morning. Really cool dollhouse under the tree. Yeah, think that.

P.S. More pictures to come.

you what?

Something happened yesterday that has never happened in my marriage. Actually, it's never happened in the nearly four years I've known BJ. He walked in the house after a long day at work and said these four miraculous words: "I love my job." I was stunned. And really, really, outrageously happy. So the boy who was never going to be a preacher loves being a preacher. I don't pretend to know what God is thinking, but I like to think he's having a chuckle over this one.

Pookie

The other day, I was sitting out on my front porch talking to one of the men from the church when I had an absolutely priceless preacher's-wife moment. He is a Harley Davidson sort of guy, gruff when he talks but extremely charitable. He's is a little older than my father, and he has a daughter about my age. I've been trying to think of an alias for this man, and for some reason BJ is insisting that I call him Pookie. So for the purposes of this blog, we'll call the man Pookie. This is the moment when I decided I really liked Pookie, but I'm glad he isn't my father:

Pookie: So how old are you?
Me: Twenty-three.
(Long silence while Pookie thought this over)
Me: (know what he was thinking) BJ is six years older than me.
(Another long silence)
Pookie: I would o' shot him.

I'm back

It's been a long stretch for me with no blogging, but please be understanding all you devoted readers (aka Mom). I am currently living in the middle of no where with no internet, no TV, and no (scary horror film music) Target. That's right. BJ and I have made it to Farmington.

It's been a good, though busy, first week. We've gotten to know countless people, and they have brought me an ice box full of fresh vegetables from their gardens. BJ has survived his first Sunday, and his sermon is pretty much ready for the next. We walk in the evenings on the most scenic walking routes I have ever seen, and the weather is pleasant with the highs in the 80's. All and all, we are getting off to a good start.

The only draw back is that we are border-line homeless. Financing on our house is still up in the air, so we are living in an extremely small rental home on a road that would freak the bageebees out of Erin (wink wink to my Fat Tuesday girls). I'm trying to stay positive, but I have to admit it is extremely difficult not having a place where I feel at home. As an introvert, I desperately need a home and everything that is involved in that word. I need a place that has my things scattered around it where I can cook and do whatever crazy art project comes to mind and lay on my bed (not air mattress) to read. Hopefully, it won't be long before we will know where that place will be. Until then, we appreciate your prayers that God will put us in the best possible place.