Saturday, May 31, 2003
More on grace...
Tiffany arrived late to Lisa's graduation... just in time to see her sister cross the stage. She proceeded to tell me all about the 2-1/2 hour drive from Hunt, TX to San Marcos, TX and the two huge accidents along the way. She then added a little ditty at the end... "oh, and I got pulled over in Ingram."
She was driving 50 mph in a 35 mph zone. The cop pulled her over, railed on her for driving so fast, then eventually let her go. Her description of the event was much more dramatic than that... telling me how she "so deserved a ticket" and "he was totally right... I WAS speeding." I said, "that's grace." She got even more excited and said "TOTALLY!" She proceeded to draw the comparison between her non-ticket experience and grace. It was like she read my previous post on grace and repeated it to me. Tiffany knows what grace is... she's a godly young woman. But I think she just experienced it in a very real and powerful way.
About a year ago, I told her that I prayed every day that God would reveal Himself to her in special ways... that she would be "surprised by God" each and every day.
Surprise!
Tiffany arrived late to Lisa's graduation... just in time to see her sister cross the stage. She proceeded to tell me all about the 2-1/2 hour drive from Hunt, TX to San Marcos, TX and the two huge accidents along the way. She then added a little ditty at the end... "oh, and I got pulled over in Ingram."
She was driving 50 mph in a 35 mph zone. The cop pulled her over, railed on her for driving so fast, then eventually let her go. Her description of the event was much more dramatic than that... telling me how she "so deserved a ticket" and "he was totally right... I WAS speeding." I said, "that's grace." She got even more excited and said "TOTALLY!" She proceeded to draw the comparison between her non-ticket experience and grace. It was like she read my previous post on grace and repeated it to me. Tiffany knows what grace is... she's a godly young woman. But I think she just experienced it in a very real and powerful way.
About a year ago, I told her that I prayed every day that God would reveal Himself to her in special ways... that she would be "surprised by God" each and every day.
Surprise!
Monday, May 26, 2003
grace (gr
s)
n
A favor rendered by one who need not do so;
A temporary immunity or exemption;
Divine love and protection bestowed freely on people;
The state of being protected or sanctified by the favor of God;
An excellence or power granted by God.
"Brother Mark" preached about grace yesterday. Mark is a genius. He's a seminary graduate, a former pastor, a former chaplain, a former programmer, my former co-worker, and current counseling center director. He's also a very talented musician. Mark shared about the marvelous grace of God... forgivenesss... and doing good. It was a fantastic message. I didn't really follow him so much as my own train of thought about grace. My mind tends to wander during lectures and sermons... but it usually stays on topic, which is helpful when I'm choosing a closing song for church. In any event, here are the random thoughts that made their way through my mind during the sermon... all about grace.
First of all, my favorite definition from the dictionary (above) is the first one... a favor rendered by one who need not do so. God didn't have to do what He did for us... He just did. He could have looked down His nose and thought of us as the paupers that we are, pointed at us and said, "oh look... the peasants need saving. Fine... you're saved." But He looked at us as only He can... like a parent sees his child.
There's a song... If I Could Look Through Your Eyes , that I sang a while back. Perfect words to describe grace.
Another random thought during the sermon... I thought about my friend, Denise, who just lost little EJ. Her mother made the strangest comment after the funeral. "Thank you for being such a good friend to Denise. I know how hard she makes it for people to be her friend." My only response was "she's one of my dearest friends." If I had been anywhere besides the gravesite of that little boy, I would have decked her and then said, "She doesn't make it difficult at all. I love her dearly and I'm blessed to have her in my life." I think Satan would love to make us think that we're completely unloveable and undeserving of God's grace... I picture him standing before God saying, "she's so unloveable and so underserving." But Jesus turns around, knocks the crap out of Satan, and says, "I love her dearly." That's what He did on the cross.
That's grace. Amazing grace. Marvelous grace. Infinite grace.
Suffer the little children...
At 6:35 PM, Everett Joseph was born. About 2 hours later, he died. I watched both the birth and the death of this precious little baby. I have never in my life experienced anything so beautiful and so horrible. He was less than a pound. He was 10 inches long. He had beautiful long fingers. He was a beautiful little boy.
I struggle with the "why". My good friends, John & Denise, lost Marie just 3 years ago. She was nearly full term, but she had a hole in her heart. They knew for two weeks that Marie wasn't going to make it, and they had time to prepare before they induced labor and delivered their stillborn child. But this time, everything was fine. Every test came out perfect. They picked out a name, and then after she was past 20 weeks, they told everyone the good news. Last week, they bought the crib and set it up. Yesterday, she was fine. Today, I watched a life that was formed by God in the womb be taken away. I saw the little innocent that God had known since before conception. God already knew EJ (yeah, they were gonna call him EJ). Today, I held Denise's hand as she screamed at God and asked him why He took her babies. She asked me why. I couldn't answer her.
Our incredible pastor came to be with them as they said goodbye to EJ. He said the most beautiful, loving words. He cared for them as only our pastor can. He grieved with them. He committed that little soul to God and asked Jesus to care for him. Thank you, dear friend, for being there for them... and for me.
I missed Lisa's final graduation dinner. She's graduating in the top 10 of her class, so she got to choose a teacher that she considers a hero, and they honored those teachers at the dinner tonight. I missed being with my child, but I was able to hold my friend's hand as she let go of her own child. I called the kids when I got home from the hospital to tell them how thankful I was for them... how thankful I am that they're healthy... and how proud I am of them -- something Denise will never be able to do with Marie and EJ. Thank you, God, for my children. I love them so. Thank you, Michael, for standing in for both of us. Michael was alseep when I got home, so I just climbed into bed, held him for a few seconds and he squeezed my hand... it was enough to know "I'm here, honey." Of course, it was also enough to know, "honey, I've gotta get back to sleep!" It was good enough for me.
Tomorrow, Denise will go home to the empty crib and empty nursery that she so desperately wanted to fill with her little one. But waiting for her there is her beautiful son, Garrett, who is happy, healthy, and full of life. He was so looking forward to a little brother, but he's young and he'll be OK. He has such a tender spirit, and I'm sure he'll sense his mother's sadness and will love and cuddle her until her sad heart becomes glad again. God bless you, Garrett.
Jesus, You enjoyed children here on earth. You got upset with your friends for not letting the children come and play with you. You scolded them because you wanted the children to come to be with you. Take EJ into your loving arms... hold him... care for him... give him the body to run and play with his sister, Marie. And scoop them up in your arms, just like I always picture when I read that scripture. Giggling... laughing... running around your feet and trying to get you to pick them up. Blessing them. Take care of EJ. Bless him.
Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not. For such is the kingdom of God.
Funny, you don't look fat
That was a comment I heard on Saturday at a wedding. It was directed to me. I am a former fat chick and in my mind, I will always be fat. The bride had told the guest sitting next to me (a personal trainer) that I had lost over 100 pounds. The woman looked at me and said, "wow! you don't look fat!" She immediately backtracked and rephrased her comment... "I mean, you can't tell by looking at you that you were ever overweight... you know, you're in great shape... like, you don't have a bunch of sagging skin... well, you know... you look great! I never would have known." I had to laugh.
My reply? "Funny, you don't look stupid!"
Spell Czech
Ok... time out. I just received an e-mail that I have to share. Let me back up a bit, first. Today was the first day of my second class at Wayland Baptist University. I have the same instructor as last semester. Today, she got on the subject spelling and punctuation and folks with high-paying jobs not knowing the difference between its and it's.... to, two, and too... etc... We all make these mistakes... I do it all the time. My brain says the word... my fingers type something else.
I had sent away for my high school transcript a few weeks ago, but it got lost in the mail. I called the administrative offices and asked them to send another copy. They were very helpful and agreed to do so. I sent a confirmation e-mail, just to make sure that she had the correct spelling of my name and the correct address to which to send the transcript. Here is her reply:
THANK YOU FOR YOUR EMAIL, I WAS JUST DIGGING FOR YOUR PAPERWORK AND WE FILE BY YOUR MAIDEN NAME. I HAD KNOW IDEA UNTIL I HEARD FROM YOU.
THANKS,
CINDY
And another e-mail from a friend who was looking for some purchasing advice... he has a master's degree. "No of any good deals out there?"
Now, this Cindy person is probably very well educated. And I know my friend with the master's degree is a heckuva lot smarter than I (and I'll never hear the end of it if/when he reads this). Butt its nice two no theirs hope four me yet.
**Late addition to the list** At the Spurs game, an Alamo Heights woman, who is always there with her big hair and her latest crochet project, got into a discussion with Michael about how great some of the players were in regards to their giving to the community. Somehow, Bill Gates was brought up. She said someting like this... "yeah, and he's such an anthropologist."
Ever Smoke a Good Cuban?
It's official. The Spurs will play the Mavericks in the NBA Western Conference Finals. The I-35 Matchup... The Lonestar Showdown. The Spurs will win, of course, but I think it will be a great series. You have to give the Mavs some credit.... and Mark Cuban, too. Cuban took the faltering Mavs and brought them out of the abyss basically by giving the team everything they wanted and pampering the players. It's the kind of boss everyone wants. Cuban knew that in order to attract and keep good employees, he needed to take good care of them. He's also a favorite with the fans... he reads his e-mails, he listens to fan complaints, and he watches the games from the stands instead of from his luxury suite.
Mark Cuban is a kook... and so am I. So I sent him an e-mail inviting him to dinner at our house. Think about it -- here's a guy who is on the road all the time and probably never gets a good home-cooked meal. That's probably true for most famous people. But most famous people don't read their e-mails. The invitation went out last night when I found out the Spurs will play the Mavs. I'll let you know if he actually responds and/or accepts.
I told him to bring his wife... and Avery Johnson (my all-time favorite Spurs player).
After I cook for Cuban here, we're gonna smoke Cuban (& the Mavs) at the SBC Center. Go, Spurs, Go!!
Thanks Honey, that was delicious!"
Without fail, Michael says that after every meal. Ok... the only times he doesn't say it is when the meal wasn't all that delicious. Sometimes he'll say, "thanks honey, that was Hamburger Helper" or "thanks honey, that was a teriyaki rice bowl." He has never said, "thanks honey, that was abysmal." yet.
I love to cook. I have some awesome recipes. I make a killer spaghetti sauce. My fajitas hold their own here in San Antonio. I also make some really good gringo-ized enchiladas that my family loves. I prefer the Mexican or Tex-Mex style of enchiladas, but my kids love the ones I make. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, right?
Well, I was in Wally World today where I saw a box marked "Taco Bell Enchiritos". I used to love Taco Bell's Enchiritos. A cross between an enchilada and a burrito. They make them different now, and I hate them. But I thought, hmmm... $2.27 for a bunch of enchiritos... all I have to do is provide the meat.
I open the box and it's some flour tortillas, a small can of refried beans, some "tangy salsa," and taco seasoning. Sheesh. I can do that. And better, I might add.
My version:
Brown a pound of ground beef. Drain the fat. Add a can of refried beans. Add about 1/2 cup of your favorite salsa. Spoon some into a flour tortilla and roll it up. Place it, seam side down, in a microwave safe dish. Continue until you've filled the dish (about 10). Cover with mild or hot Old El Paso Enchilada Sauce (my favorite). Cover with grated cheddar cheese. Microwave for about 5 minutes. Bingo... you're done. Your family will love you forever. Sure, it's the gringo version. But my family eats every single bite of it. They even want the leftovers the next day.
Michael ate the Taco Bell version like a trooper. His only comment... "not too bad."
Still waiting for the "thanks honey..." Maybe I should be glad he kept this one to himself :0)
Happy Mother's Day, Muzmicky!
I feel like I'm getting old, but I don't see my Mom as old. Heck, she's in better shape than I am! She could outwalk, outswim, outlast me... she'd beat me in "Survivor." Mom is 66. That's young, in my book. When I was 18, I thought 30 was old and 50 was ancient. Now that I'm 41, 60 don't look so bad. (while I'm boasting... my 75-year-old dad still plays racquetball with men 20 years his junior!)
Mom was a stay-at-home mom, which was pretty common in those days. She tried working at a little cafe called The Strawberry Patch for a short time, but we weren't the best latch-key kids. I remember calling up there and telling her the house was on fire. I really wanted my mom home. Now she's working at Joli, a classy boutique in Centerville, Ohio, selling really nice clothes to rich people.
We live in Texas... she lives in Ohio. Much too far apart for my taste, so I'm trying desperately to move back there. Keep praying, Mom.
Who can find a virtuous woman? Her price is far above rubies....
Her children rise up and call her blessed.
Proverbs 31
Well, this child is rising up. Bless you, Mom. You are the most godly woman I know. The most virtuous. The best Mom a little girl could hope for. I am thankful you found the Lord when I was a child and you raised us "in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." I know that's very "King James", but hey... we grew up on it! I'm thankful for being dragged to church three days a week. I'm thankful that you taught me how to be a good mother. I'm thankful that you prayed for me when things were at their worst. I'm thankful for you.
I love you, Mom.
defrag: Refers to the condition of a disk in which files are divided into pieces scattered around the disk. Fragmentation occurs naturally when you use a disk frequently, creating, deleting, and modifying files. At some point, the operating system needs to store parts of a file in noncontiguous clusters. This is entirely invisible to users, but it can slow down the speed at which data is accessed because the disk drive must search through different parts of the disk to put together a single file.
I defragged a hard drive today. I find it unnecessary with the newer versions of Windows, but it's a good idea with 98. It took about 2 hours to defrag a 10 GB hard drive. I watched as the little squares blinked... changed colors... moved around. The "legend" gives you an idea of what those little squares mean. Light blue - they belong at the beginning of the drive; dark blue - they belong at the end of the drive. Then there are squares that have a red square inside... those won't be moved. And the ones with the red slash... those are BAD! They're permanently marked so they don't ever get used again.
That's exactly how I feel. I need to be defragged. I wish it were as easy as clicking a button and waiting two hours for the little squares in my head and my heart get moved around and put into place. Things that I SHOULD be doing... things that I SHOULD be feeling... those all get put in front. Things that I SHOULDN'T be doing and thinking and feeling... those all get put in back. And things that won't be moved... those get a little mark so that people know not to bring it up. And the things that are bad, well... those get a slash through them and we won't ever try to access them again. Too bad... it's not that easy.
I'm cranky today. I feel like crap today. I've got a lot of emotions whirling around inside about Mother's Day, graduations, empty nests, getting older, kids, job, money, blah, blah, blah. It's difficult to put into words how I'm feeling, so it comes across as cranky. Michael's blaming it on the Spurs. I think I just need to be defragged.
Blogamy hits the search engines! Ok... just one, but it's MSN! I'm famous.
We found 0 results. Suggestions:
Check your spelling. Did you mean: bigamy
s)n
A favor rendered by one who need not do so;
A temporary immunity or exemption;
Divine love and protection bestowed freely on people;
The state of being protected or sanctified by the favor of God;
An excellence or power granted by God.
"Brother Mark" preached about grace yesterday. Mark is a genius. He's a seminary graduate, a former pastor, a former chaplain, a former programmer, my former co-worker, and current counseling center director. He's also a very talented musician. Mark shared about the marvelous grace of God... forgivenesss... and doing good. It was a fantastic message. I didn't really follow him so much as my own train of thought about grace. My mind tends to wander during lectures and sermons... but it usually stays on topic, which is helpful when I'm choosing a closing song for church. In any event, here are the random thoughts that made their way through my mind during the sermon... all about grace.
First of all, my favorite definition from the dictionary (above) is the first one... a favor rendered by one who need not do so. God didn't have to do what He did for us... He just did. He could have looked down His nose and thought of us as the paupers that we are, pointed at us and said, "oh look... the peasants need saving. Fine... you're saved." But He looked at us as only He can... like a parent sees his child.
There's a song... If I Could Look Through Your Eyes , that I sang a while back. Perfect words to describe grace.
If I could look through Your eyes, I'd see there's no way to impress You, and I wouldn't even try. I'd stop trying to prove I'm worthy, and I'd take off the disguise...I can never see myself as God sees me. I can't earn His love and grace. I don't deserve any of it. But I have it.
if I could look through Your eyes.
If I saw my value to You, I'd see Your love for me remains despite the foolish things I do, And I'd see Your love for what it is, unshakeable and true...
if I saw my value to You.
I wanna see what You see. I wanna recognize the treasured prize You say You see in me. I wanna give up trying to earn the love You're offering for free.
I wanna see what You see.
And I would see that I'm precious, and I would know that I'm prized.
I'd know Your love never changes...
if I could look through Your eyes.
Another random thought during the sermon... I thought about my friend, Denise, who just lost little EJ. Her mother made the strangest comment after the funeral. "Thank you for being such a good friend to Denise. I know how hard she makes it for people to be her friend." My only response was "she's one of my dearest friends." If I had been anywhere besides the gravesite of that little boy, I would have decked her and then said, "She doesn't make it difficult at all. I love her dearly and I'm blessed to have her in my life." I think Satan would love to make us think that we're completely unloveable and undeserving of God's grace... I picture him standing before God saying, "she's so unloveable and so underserving." But Jesus turns around, knocks the crap out of Satan, and says, "I love her dearly." That's what He did on the cross.
That's grace. Amazing grace. Marvelous grace. Infinite grace.
Friday, May 23, 2003
Suffer the little children...
At 6:35 PM, Everett Joseph was born. About 2 hours later, he died. I watched both the birth and the death of this precious little baby. I have never in my life experienced anything so beautiful and so horrible. He was less than a pound. He was 10 inches long. He had beautiful long fingers. He was a beautiful little boy.
I struggle with the "why". My good friends, John & Denise, lost Marie just 3 years ago. She was nearly full term, but she had a hole in her heart. They knew for two weeks that Marie wasn't going to make it, and they had time to prepare before they induced labor and delivered their stillborn child. But this time, everything was fine. Every test came out perfect. They picked out a name, and then after she was past 20 weeks, they told everyone the good news. Last week, they bought the crib and set it up. Yesterday, she was fine. Today, I watched a life that was formed by God in the womb be taken away. I saw the little innocent that God had known since before conception. God already knew EJ (yeah, they were gonna call him EJ). Today, I held Denise's hand as she screamed at God and asked him why He took her babies. She asked me why. I couldn't answer her.
Our incredible pastor came to be with them as they said goodbye to EJ. He said the most beautiful, loving words. He cared for them as only our pastor can. He grieved with them. He committed that little soul to God and asked Jesus to care for him. Thank you, dear friend, for being there for them... and for me.
I missed Lisa's final graduation dinner. She's graduating in the top 10 of her class, so she got to choose a teacher that she considers a hero, and they honored those teachers at the dinner tonight. I missed being with my child, but I was able to hold my friend's hand as she let go of her own child. I called the kids when I got home from the hospital to tell them how thankful I was for them... how thankful I am that they're healthy... and how proud I am of them -- something Denise will never be able to do with Marie and EJ. Thank you, God, for my children. I love them so. Thank you, Michael, for standing in for both of us. Michael was alseep when I got home, so I just climbed into bed, held him for a few seconds and he squeezed my hand... it was enough to know "I'm here, honey." Of course, it was also enough to know, "honey, I've gotta get back to sleep!" It was good enough for me.
Tomorrow, Denise will go home to the empty crib and empty nursery that she so desperately wanted to fill with her little one. But waiting for her there is her beautiful son, Garrett, who is happy, healthy, and full of life. He was so looking forward to a little brother, but he's young and he'll be OK. He has such a tender spirit, and I'm sure he'll sense his mother's sadness and will love and cuddle her until her sad heart becomes glad again. God bless you, Garrett.
Jesus, You enjoyed children here on earth. You got upset with your friends for not letting the children come and play with you. You scolded them because you wanted the children to come to be with you. Take EJ into your loving arms... hold him... care for him... give him the body to run and play with his sister, Marie. And scoop them up in your arms, just like I always picture when I read that scripture. Giggling... laughing... running around your feet and trying to get you to pick them up. Blessing them. Take care of EJ. Bless him.
Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not. For such is the kingdom of God.
Monday, May 19, 2003
Funny, you don't look fat
That was a comment I heard on Saturday at a wedding. It was directed to me. I am a former fat chick and in my mind, I will always be fat. The bride had told the guest sitting next to me (a personal trainer) that I had lost over 100 pounds. The woman looked at me and said, "wow! you don't look fat!" She immediately backtracked and rephrased her comment... "I mean, you can't tell by looking at you that you were ever overweight... you know, you're in great shape... like, you don't have a bunch of sagging skin... well, you know... you look great! I never would have known." I had to laugh.
My reply? "Funny, you don't look stupid!"
Spell Czech
Ok... time out. I just received an e-mail that I have to share. Let me back up a bit, first. Today was the first day of my second class at Wayland Baptist University. I have the same instructor as last semester. Today, she got on the subject spelling and punctuation and folks with high-paying jobs not knowing the difference between its and it's.... to, two, and too... etc... We all make these mistakes... I do it all the time. My brain says the word... my fingers type something else.
I had sent away for my high school transcript a few weeks ago, but it got lost in the mail. I called the administrative offices and asked them to send another copy. They were very helpful and agreed to do so. I sent a confirmation e-mail, just to make sure that she had the correct spelling of my name and the correct address to which to send the transcript. Here is her reply:
THANK YOU FOR YOUR EMAIL, I WAS JUST DIGGING FOR YOUR PAPERWORK AND WE FILE BY YOUR MAIDEN NAME. I HAD KNOW IDEA UNTIL I HEARD FROM YOU.
THANKS,
CINDY
And another e-mail from a friend who was looking for some purchasing advice... he has a master's degree. "No of any good deals out there?"
Now, this Cindy person is probably very well educated. And I know my friend with the master's degree is a heckuva lot smarter than I (and I'll never hear the end of it if/when he reads this). Butt its nice two no theirs hope four me yet.
**Late addition to the list** At the Spurs game, an Alamo Heights woman, who is always there with her big hair and her latest crochet project, got into a discussion with Michael about how great some of the players were in regards to their giving to the community. Somehow, Bill Gates was brought up. She said someting like this... "yeah, and he's such an anthropologist."
Sunday, May 18, 2003
Ever Smoke a Good Cuban?
It's official. The Spurs will play the Mavericks in the NBA Western Conference Finals. The I-35 Matchup... The Lonestar Showdown. The Spurs will win, of course, but I think it will be a great series. You have to give the Mavs some credit.... and Mark Cuban, too. Cuban took the faltering Mavs and brought them out of the abyss basically by giving the team everything they wanted and pampering the players. It's the kind of boss everyone wants. Cuban knew that in order to attract and keep good employees, he needed to take good care of them. He's also a favorite with the fans... he reads his e-mails, he listens to fan complaints, and he watches the games from the stands instead of from his luxury suite.
Mark Cuban is a kook... and so am I. So I sent him an e-mail inviting him to dinner at our house. Think about it -- here's a guy who is on the road all the time and probably never gets a good home-cooked meal. That's probably true for most famous people. But most famous people don't read their e-mails. The invitation went out last night when I found out the Spurs will play the Mavs. I'll let you know if he actually responds and/or accepts.
I told him to bring his wife... and Avery Johnson (my all-time favorite Spurs player).
After I cook for Cuban here, we're gonna smoke Cuban (& the Mavs) at the SBC Center. Go, Spurs, Go!!
Monday, May 12, 2003
Thanks Honey, that was delicious!"
Without fail, Michael says that after every meal. Ok... the only times he doesn't say it is when the meal wasn't all that delicious. Sometimes he'll say, "thanks honey, that was Hamburger Helper" or "thanks honey, that was a teriyaki rice bowl." He has never said, "thanks honey, that was abysmal." yet.
I love to cook. I have some awesome recipes. I make a killer spaghetti sauce. My fajitas hold their own here in San Antonio. I also make some really good gringo-ized enchiladas that my family loves. I prefer the Mexican or Tex-Mex style of enchiladas, but my kids love the ones I make. If it ain't broke, don't fix it, right?
Well, I was in Wally World today where I saw a box marked "Taco Bell Enchiritos". I used to love Taco Bell's Enchiritos. A cross between an enchilada and a burrito. They make them different now, and I hate them. But I thought, hmmm... $2.27 for a bunch of enchiritos... all I have to do is provide the meat.
I open the box and it's some flour tortillas, a small can of refried beans, some "tangy salsa," and taco seasoning. Sheesh. I can do that. And better, I might add.
My version:
Brown a pound of ground beef. Drain the fat. Add a can of refried beans. Add about 1/2 cup of your favorite salsa. Spoon some into a flour tortilla and roll it up. Place it, seam side down, in a microwave safe dish. Continue until you've filled the dish (about 10). Cover with mild or hot Old El Paso Enchilada Sauce (my favorite). Cover with grated cheddar cheese. Microwave for about 5 minutes. Bingo... you're done. Your family will love you forever. Sure, it's the gringo version. But my family eats every single bite of it. They even want the leftovers the next day.
Michael ate the Taco Bell version like a trooper. His only comment... "not too bad."
Still waiting for the "thanks honey..." Maybe I should be glad he kept this one to himself :0)
Sunday, May 11, 2003
Happy Mother's Day, Muzmicky!
I feel like I'm getting old, but I don't see my Mom as old. Heck, she's in better shape than I am! She could outwalk, outswim, outlast me... she'd beat me in "Survivor." Mom is 66. That's young, in my book. When I was 18, I thought 30 was old and 50 was ancient. Now that I'm 41, 60 don't look so bad. (while I'm boasting... my 75-year-old dad still plays racquetball with men 20 years his junior!)
Mom was a stay-at-home mom, which was pretty common in those days. She tried working at a little cafe called The Strawberry Patch for a short time, but we weren't the best latch-key kids. I remember calling up there and telling her the house was on fire. I really wanted my mom home. Now she's working at Joli, a classy boutique in Centerville, Ohio, selling really nice clothes to rich people.
We live in Texas... she lives in Ohio. Much too far apart for my taste, so I'm trying desperately to move back there. Keep praying, Mom.
Who can find a virtuous woman? Her price is far above rubies....
Her children rise up and call her blessed.
Proverbs 31
Well, this child is rising up. Bless you, Mom. You are the most godly woman I know. The most virtuous. The best Mom a little girl could hope for. I am thankful you found the Lord when I was a child and you raised us "in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." I know that's very "King James", but hey... we grew up on it! I'm thankful for being dragged to church three days a week. I'm thankful that you taught me how to be a good mother. I'm thankful that you prayed for me when things were at their worst. I'm thankful for you.
I love you, Mom.
Saturday, May 10, 2003
defrag: Refers to the condition of a disk in which files are divided into pieces scattered around the disk. Fragmentation occurs naturally when you use a disk frequently, creating, deleting, and modifying files. At some point, the operating system needs to store parts of a file in noncontiguous clusters. This is entirely invisible to users, but it can slow down the speed at which data is accessed because the disk drive must search through different parts of the disk to put together a single file.
I defragged a hard drive today. I find it unnecessary with the newer versions of Windows, but it's a good idea with 98. It took about 2 hours to defrag a 10 GB hard drive. I watched as the little squares blinked... changed colors... moved around. The "legend" gives you an idea of what those little squares mean. Light blue - they belong at the beginning of the drive; dark blue - they belong at the end of the drive. Then there are squares that have a red square inside... those won't be moved. And the ones with the red slash... those are BAD! They're permanently marked so they don't ever get used again.
That's exactly how I feel. I need to be defragged. I wish it were as easy as clicking a button and waiting two hours for the little squares in my head and my heart get moved around and put into place. Things that I SHOULD be doing... things that I SHOULD be feeling... those all get put in front. Things that I SHOULDN'T be doing and thinking and feeling... those all get put in back. And things that won't be moved... those get a little mark so that people know not to bring it up. And the things that are bad, well... those get a slash through them and we won't ever try to access them again. Too bad... it's not that easy.
I'm cranky today. I feel like crap today. I've got a lot of emotions whirling around inside about Mother's Day, graduations, empty nests, getting older, kids, job, money, blah, blah, blah. It's difficult to put into words how I'm feeling, so it comes across as cranky. Michael's blaming it on the Spurs. I think I just need to be defragged.
Blogamy hits the search engines! Ok... just one, but it's MSN! I'm famous.
Results 1-2 of about 2 containing "blogamy"The results from AltaVista.com are disturbing, however.
WEB PAGES - ABOUT
1. Blogamy... Stay tuned for more episodes of Blogamy. ===. Just so you all don't freak out... ...
amymain.com/blog
2. Untitled Document
this is me without my hair... welcome to my open stare i'm an eyesore, i'm a detour outofhabit.org + SUBDOMAINS * bi - art - drop - tribe - news * dyke - jesus - suburb - sinister - newmoon - thingbook * bi and dyke belong to leila & TRANSLATE - to
geitstamme.tripod.com/abandon/bald
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Friday, May 09, 2003
God Must Have Big Plans...
I'd like to think I'm a brave soul. I've survived a lot of crap in my life -- mostly emotional. I'd like to think Michael is the bravest man in the world. Michael, you know I love you, but this guy wins.
You've all heard the story. Aron Ralston was hiking in the Utah desert when a boulder fell on him, pinning his arm. He was stuck for five days. In the meantime, he ran out of food and water. Seeing no other alternative, he broke the bones of his arm, beginning just above his wrist and ending somewhere near his elbow. Ouch. That's just the beginning. He only did that because his dull pocket knife couldn't cut through his arm. Breaking it was the only option before he began his now famous self-amputation. Jim Rome called him "The Baddest Dude on the Planet." Ok... I have to post what Romey said... it's just hysterical.
This is the point where one would say, "God must have BIG plans for him." People always say that when there's a near-death experience. You were saved for some great cosmic reason.
I look back to 1987 when baby Jessica was stuck in the well. I remember the night she was rescued like it was yesterday. We all prayed for two solid days. Then, it happened -- she was rescued. I cried. We all cried. Everyone said, "that little girl is destined for greatness!" and "God has big plans for that baby!" Is that true? Does God have plans for all of us, or just for the ones who make it through a tragic experience?
I made it through personal tragedy that never made the cover of Newsweek. I wasn't on Oprah because of it. I'm shocked. Where was the media when my marriage broke up? Where were the TV cameras when my 12-year-old daughter was on suicide watch at Laurel Ridge Hospital? And when she said "I hate you"?? How about when my 15-year-old son asked me why I left him? And then when I couldn't tell him the real answers?
Baby Jessica is now 16-year-old Jessica. She has juvenile rheumatoid arhritis. She is in constant pain. Her parents are divorced. The paramedic who was made famous by her rescue is dead. He committed suicide. I wonder what's going to happen to Aron Ralston with the big plans God MUST have for his life, or if he even believes in God. I pray that, although they mean well, nobody gives him the "big plans" line. I pray that Aron does what the rest of us are forced to do. Get well -- then live. What the rest of us don't have is the camera in our faces watching to see what's next. I hope he can avoid that and get on with his life and not end up in the "Where Are They NOW?" videos.
Quietly, and without fanfare, I've had my tragedies and my life goes on. If there was a "Where Are They NOW?" video, you'd see my daughter graduating with honors from college. She doesn't hate me. She's even told me that she's proud of me. At 21, she still calls me "mommy" sometimes. My son is a successful art student who still comes to mom when things get rough. He tells me he loves me every time he talks to me. My youngest is graduating from high school ranked #10 in her class. She, too, tells me she loves me when we say goodbye. My wonderful husband, who has also survived private tragedy and pain, is a constant reminder of God's unfailing love for me.
We are not heroes. Nobody will remember us. But God has a plan. God has had big plans for us all along.
I'm thinking of going short and spikey.
Hair that is. I used to change my hairstyle every six months or so. But for the past 3 years, I've pretty much had the same look -- short hair with a kickstand in the back. My little flip has almost become my trademark. I have referred about ten women to my hairdresser, including four total strangers. As we were leaving the Spurs game last week, a woman tapped me on the shoulder and said, "I'm sorry to bother you, but can you tell me who does your hair? I just LOVE it!" That's happened four times. This tells me two things. 1.) My hairdresser is awesome, and 2.) It's time for a new look. Too many people are getting this cut. Vain? yup.
I'm also thinking about going back to my natural color. I'm not sure even God knows what that is. With my luck, it's probably dirty brown with lots of gray.
Michael stole my bird story. I should copyright this stuff ;-)
Starting a new blog today. School officially ends tomorrow, but yesterday was the last day of class. I've filed my old blog away for safekeeping, but if you absolutely MUST see it (freshman comp journal), you can contact me by e-mail.
Stay tuned for more episodes of Blogamy.
===
Just so you all don't freak out... it's BlogAmy... it's not a play on words. It's simple... it's Amy's Blog. Blogamy. Do a search on Google for blogamy. No hits. You'll get "did you mean: blog amy?" If you do a search for "Amy Main" you get a TON of stuff because EVERYONE has a page called "main". So every Amy out there who has a website has a page called "Amy's Main Page". There are maybe 10 Amy Mains in the world, but it's nearly impossible to find us on the Internet. The cool thing is, my Tastefully Simple page comes up. But besides that, we're not unique at all in cyberspace.
Years ago, I found another Amy Main in about 5 minutes. She's a math professor at Texas A&M -- just a few hours away from here. But it's hard to find us now.
So I'll have my own little corner of the web -- for a while, anyway.
Blogamy.
I'd like to think I'm a brave soul. I've survived a lot of crap in my life -- mostly emotional. I'd like to think Michael is the bravest man in the world. Michael, you know I love you, but this guy wins.
You've all heard the story. Aron Ralston was hiking in the Utah desert when a boulder fell on him, pinning his arm. He was stuck for five days. In the meantime, he ran out of food and water. Seeing no other alternative, he broke the bones of his arm, beginning just above his wrist and ending somewhere near his elbow. Ouch. That's just the beginning. He only did that because his dull pocket knife couldn't cut through his arm. Breaking it was the only option before he began his now famous self-amputation. Jim Rome called him "The Baddest Dude on the Planet." Ok... I have to post what Romey said... it's just hysterical.
"So he did what I think we all would have done in a similar situation. He went into his backpack and busted out the good ol' pocket knife and hacked off his arm. What, you wouldn't have done that? What are you, a girl? You wouldn't have cut off your own arm?"Now, I've had mini fantasies about giving myself my own tummy tuck or boob job. Man, that would be great. But, of course, the thought of the pain and blood and sutures and the mere fact that it's CRAZY always stop me before I make that first cut. But cutting off your own arm?
This is the point where one would say, "God must have BIG plans for him." People always say that when there's a near-death experience. You were saved for some great cosmic reason.
I look back to 1987 when baby Jessica was stuck in the well. I remember the night she was rescued like it was yesterday. We all prayed for two solid days. Then, it happened -- she was rescued. I cried. We all cried. Everyone said, "that little girl is destined for greatness!" and "God has big plans for that baby!" Is that true? Does God have plans for all of us, or just for the ones who make it through a tragic experience?
I made it through personal tragedy that never made the cover of Newsweek. I wasn't on Oprah because of it. I'm shocked. Where was the media when my marriage broke up? Where were the TV cameras when my 12-year-old daughter was on suicide watch at Laurel Ridge Hospital? And when she said "I hate you"?? How about when my 15-year-old son asked me why I left him? And then when I couldn't tell him the real answers?
Baby Jessica is now 16-year-old Jessica. She has juvenile rheumatoid arhritis. She is in constant pain. Her parents are divorced. The paramedic who was made famous by her rescue is dead. He committed suicide. I wonder what's going to happen to Aron Ralston with the big plans God MUST have for his life, or if he even believes in God. I pray that, although they mean well, nobody gives him the "big plans" line. I pray that Aron does what the rest of us are forced to do. Get well -- then live. What the rest of us don't have is the camera in our faces watching to see what's next. I hope he can avoid that and get on with his life and not end up in the "Where Are They NOW?" videos.
Quietly, and without fanfare, I've had my tragedies and my life goes on. If there was a "Where Are They NOW?" video, you'd see my daughter graduating with honors from college. She doesn't hate me. She's even told me that she's proud of me. At 21, she still calls me "mommy" sometimes. My son is a successful art student who still comes to mom when things get rough. He tells me he loves me every time he talks to me. My youngest is graduating from high school ranked #10 in her class. She, too, tells me she loves me when we say goodbye. My wonderful husband, who has also survived private tragedy and pain, is a constant reminder of God's unfailing love for me.
We are not heroes. Nobody will remember us. But God has a plan. God has had big plans for us all along.
Thursday, May 08, 2003
I'm thinking of going short and spikey.
Hair that is. I used to change my hairstyle every six months or so. But for the past 3 years, I've pretty much had the same look -- short hair with a kickstand in the back. My little flip has almost become my trademark. I have referred about ten women to my hairdresser, including four total strangers. As we were leaving the Spurs game last week, a woman tapped me on the shoulder and said, "I'm sorry to bother you, but can you tell me who does your hair? I just LOVE it!" That's happened four times. This tells me two things. 1.) My hairdresser is awesome, and 2.) It's time for a new look. Too many people are getting this cut. Vain? yup.
I'm also thinking about going back to my natural color. I'm not sure even God knows what that is. With my luck, it's probably dirty brown with lots of gray.
Michael stole my bird story. I should copyright this stuff ;-)
Tuesday, May 06, 2003
Starting a new blog today. School officially ends tomorrow, but yesterday was the last day of class. I've filed my old blog away for safekeeping, but if you absolutely MUST see it (freshman comp journal), you can contact me by e-mail.
Stay tuned for more episodes of Blogamy.
===
Just so you all don't freak out... it's BlogAmy... it's not a play on words. It's simple... it's Amy's Blog. Blogamy. Do a search on Google for blogamy. No hits. You'll get "did you mean: blog amy?" If you do a search for "Amy Main" you get a TON of stuff because EVERYONE has a page called "main". So every Amy out there who has a website has a page called "Amy's Main Page". There are maybe 10 Amy Mains in the world, but it's nearly impossible to find us on the Internet. The cool thing is, my Tastefully Simple page comes up. But besides that, we're not unique at all in cyberspace.
Years ago, I found another Amy Main in about 5 minutes. She's a math professor at Texas A&M -- just a few hours away from here. But it's hard to find us now.
So I'll have my own little corner of the web -- for a while, anyway.
Blogamy.
