Thursday, January 31, 2008

Join Me In A Good Cry

My friends,
Whatever you are facing this day and in the days to come,
Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Word Of The Day Wednesday

canorous \kuh-NOR-us; KAN-or-uhs\, adjective:
Richly melodious; pleasant sounding; musical.

This version of I WILL SING OF MY REDEEMER by Selah and Barlowgirl is canorous.

He Aint Hunchback, He's My Brother...

Okay. He's not my brother but today he at least looks like a distant cousin. Just call me Quasimona. My neck and jawline have been invaded by acne alien implants the plague. I've gained so much weight since my Hysterectomy that I look as though I am pregnant; and I could say, "I think I am one of those women who just thinks they are getting fat but it turns out they have a giant tumor," except I already got to use that card in 2005 - hence; Hysterectomy. Okay - I'm not a hunchback, so let's call it hunchfront. Then there is my walk limp swagger; a direct result of spraining my ankle. Because I have been babying my left foot, my right hip has become very sore. You can imagine what that looks like in strut form. I have a grotesque growth ganglion cyst on the top of my wrist which is a direct result of shelling pecans by hand. Moving on to my hair. I live in the South. Humidity. Badly neglected haircut hair in need of a trim. Need I say more? I even wear slip on clogs which have long outlived their pretty days. Plus the last two days I have been feeling raunchy so my skin is a little green and clammy. It's all leaving me crying out for "Thankshoowaywe"

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Teen Bliss

Good news! I found someone sympathetic to the cause who was willing to look at and consider our documentation for my daughter to get her learner's permit - and they accepted. Once we had gone through all the paperwork, it was mere minutes before closing, but they let her take her test anyway. She passed! However, because she was there after 4 they weren't able to issue the permit, but we can go back tomorrow and pick it up. Thank you so much for your prayers and words of encouragement! Now comes the hard part of allowing her control of the vehicle. :)

Monday, January 28, 2008

What's Your Bloginality

A little bit of fluff for the day.....

I borrowed this from Bits And Pieces
My Bloginality is ISTJ!!!

As an ISTJ, you are Introverted, Sensing, Thinking, and Judging.
This makes your primary focus on Introverted Sensing with Extroverted Thinking.
This is defined as a SJ personality, which is part of Carl Jung's Guardian (Security Seeking) type, and more specifically the Inspectors or Duty Fulfiller.
As a weblogger, you may well have a dependable form of posting. You may be more likely to be judgemental toward others who aren't as dependable. You may get taken advantage of in group situations because you are known as not being able to say no. Because of your respect for facts and information, you may need multiple blogs to keep all of the information sorted in your head.

I mostly agree with my summary except the part about being taken advantage of in group situations - I for sure know how to say, "No" - although I do have a heart for the overloaded....

Go take the quiz and let me know what you come up with! Bloginality If you want to read a little bit more about ISTJ's, scroll down a bit....

ISTJs are often called inspectors. They have a keen sense of right and wrong, especially in their area of interest and/or responsibility. They are noted for devotion to duty. Punctuality is a watchword of the ISTJ. The secretary, clerk, or business(wo)man by whom others set their clocks is likely to be an ISTJ.
As do other Introverted Thinkers, ISTJs often give the initial impression of being aloof and perhaps somewhat cold. Effusive expression of emotional warmth is not something that ISTJs do without considerable energy loss.
ISTJs are most at home with "just the facts, Ma'am." They seem to perform at highest efficiency when employing a step-by-step approach. Once a new procedure has proven itself (i.e., has been shown "to work,") the ISTJ can be depended upon to carry it through, even at the expense of their own health.
ISTJs are easily frustrated by the inconsistencies of others, especially when the second parties don't keep their commitments. But they usually keep their feelings to themselves unless they are asked. And when asked, they don't mince words. Truth wins out over tact. The grim determination of the ISTJ vindicates itself in officiation of sports events, judiciary functions, or any other situation which requires making tough calls and sticking to them.
His SJ orientation draws the ISTJ into the service of established institutions. Home, social clubs, government, schools, the military, churches -- these are the bastions of the SJ. "We've always done it this way" is often reason enough for many ISTJs. Threats to time-honored traditions or established organizations (e.g., a "run" on the bank) are the undoing of SJs, and are to be fought at all costs.
*giggles nervously in self-awareness*
"I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works, And that my soul knows very well." Psalm 139:14

Friday, January 25, 2008

Wordless Wednesday??

Is it Wednesday?? NO!?
Well, I don't have a lot to say about this except, "How am I so blessed that I get to take pictures like this??"

Thursday, January 24, 2008

"Real" Mom

Sometimes in my life things will be going along like normal, scratch that; usual - and there will come a reminder that I am not a "real" Mom. Today was one such day. I took my daughter to the DMV to take her test for her learner's permit. The lady behind the counter asked, "Are you her mother?" "Yes I am." So she asks to see my driver's license along with my daughter's pertinent documents and then looks at me and says, "You're not her natural mother?" "No, I am her stepmother." "Well then you can't sign for her." I explained to her that I, in fact, have a power of attorney giving me the right to make legal decisions on her behalf. She wouldn't consider, or even look at the document. So, because I am not her natural mother, she cannot get her learner's permit as her father is deployed and her natural mother lives in another state. It will be another year then before she is able to get her driver's license. (This is like death to a teenager) *disclaimer....I am not here to 'diss' biological mothers. Some of my best friends are biological mothers. In fact, I have one of my own and am one myself as well.* Today what this post is about is the frustrating irony of being a stepparent. I also am not here to say that all stepparents are the greatest thing on the planet and can never do wrong. We are ALL children of God and we ALL make mistakes, whether the child has our genetics or not.
That being said.....
I want to share with you some expectations. As a stepparent, I am expected to love my (step)children as though I gave birth to them myself and to treat them equally with the children that I did give birth to. However, I am not allowed to be called their mother. And, if I apply the same rules of discipline to my (step)daughters as I do to the children I gave birth to, people get offended and I am accused of mistreating them(no they are not ACTUALLY being mistreated). When decisions have to be made about their welfare, although I am allowed to give my opinion, ultimately I have no say in the final outcome. And in times when I disagree about those choices, I am still expected to open my heart wide with love and care for them and watch as others make choices that I think are wrong and could have wrenchingly painful consequences for me. When it is time for my (step)daughters to get married, the likelihood that I will get to be the one in the room with them helping them to prepare is low at best. I don't mean this to sound like a rant, I'm just attempting to give a glimpse of a situation that some people haven't experienced or don't fully understand.

There have been times in my life as a parent that people have referred to my daughters' biological mother as their "real" mother, implying that I am NOT a "real" mother. Even well meaning friends of my own have used this terminology and others like it. (I am not saying that their bioligical mother does not deserve credit - she carried and gave birth to them and she loves them and desires to be a part of their lives)

What I AM saying is.....I have lovingly and carefully pulled my (step)daughter's hair back and wiped her face after she has vomited all over my lap. I have stripped her bed in the middle of the night and helped her clean up after she has had an accident.(night after night after night).I have eaten the foulest meal ever just because she made it. Today I had to tell her that I was so sorry that I was helpless to help her get something she desires so desperately. I have literally 'processed' a fecal sample of my other (step)daughter's when she was having stomachaches that we could not explain. I helped them learn how to read. I have pushed them so high on the swing that it made them squeal in delight. I have endured their anger when they have had to accept decisions that they didn't like. I have prayed for their salvation. I have taken a good deal of blame for the wrongs of the world just because of my title. I have let go over and over again of my pride and my heart's desire to be greatly loved by them in order to allow them to love freely and without guilt the family that came before me. I will always put their needs above my own desires.
Any day over the last 12 1/2 years, I could have walked away without a second look back and society would consider that acceptable. And every day over the last 12 1/2 years, I have chosen to stay and take all that comes along with that in order that I could be a mother to them.
I have a (step)mom who has made these choices on my behalf as well. She is an irreplaceable treasure in my life.
If that's not a "real" mom, I don't know what is.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Letters From War (excerpts)

Dec 30, 07

...I haven't been able to go to church services yet, because of my schedule. I've been fairly diligent at daily Bible studies though. I'm doing the one from FUMC and the Strength for Service book you sent me in Korea.
...So at the very least I'm reading the Word of God, and it does lift me up.
...Besides the Bible, I haven't found any books worth reading.
I will close the letter for now.
I love you and I will come home to you.
(heart) C

Monday, January 21, 2008

Letters From War

"I thought this would brighten your day. I love you, C."

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Fwd: Thought you might appreciate this too...

I'm not much for forwards (see my post on Netiquette) and I have to admit that when I saw the title of this one I thought, "Here we go..." However - I found this one to be eloquently to the point.

We complain about the cross we bear but don't realize it is preparing us for the dip in the road that God can see and we cannot.

Friday, January 18, 2008

Pecan Weevils Revisited (again)

I totally forgot that I had taken some artistic photos to go along with this post - and have also added a haiku donated by my new bff (Blog Friend Forever) Jenster..

Weevils, weevils, weevils,
the fat white larvae turn into beatles.
They burrow in the Pecan
and the shell hardens around them.

surprise surprise, you crack the shell
and the shock knocks you on your butt.
You scream in response,
"Somebody beat me to the nut!"

(copyright sing4joy) :)

Haiku -
Pecans are yummy
But weevils make them not so
Stupid icky bugs
(copyright Jenster) :)

Thursday, January 17, 2008


Today while the housekeeper was cleaning my house (cause I'm broken, remember?) My friend the postlady brought me a package... but first, a little backstory....

I have several Bibles in several translations that I have picked up during different seasons of my Christian walk....

And for about a year now I have been wanting a praise and worship devotional type Bible.Today it came!
Here's the description....

There is a fresh wind of worship blowing across the Body of Christ - believers everywhere are realizing that amazing encounters with God occur not just on Sunday, but every day! The iWorship Daily Devotional Bible will help you celebrate and experience a fervent passion for God in everything you do. It will build your faith and encourage you to adopt a moment-by-moment lifestyle of worship!

It is a beautiful Bible and I already know that I will cherish it in the years to come. Don't get me wrong, it will never replace my first Bible which was given to me by Cousin Amber - who devotedly prayed for my salvation - when she learned firsthand that her prayers had been answered.

She knew just what I needed when I needed it (as she almost always has for the 20 years that we have been friends). It is a most excellent personal study Bible in the NKJV translation with my name engraved in gold lettering on the front. In it are the first pages that my hands touched in earnest seeking of the God who gave all for my very soul. It contains the pages where I first ever wrote a note in a Bible when the words of Isaiah the prophet jumped off the page and danced around me as an exact and direct answer to a friend in need. It contains a very personal,powerful and overwhelming message that God gave directly to me in purpose and promise at a time when I was just beginning to learn who I was in Christ.

I pray that this new one is a faithful companion and supplement to my evergrowing relationship with Christ.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008


Today I sang at the funeral of a man who lived a full life serving God and Country. He was given military honors which includes a 3-volley salute.

The practice of firing three rifle volleys over the grave originated in the old custom of halting the fighting to remove the dead from the battlefield. Once each army had cleared their dead, it would fire three volleys to indicate that the dead had been cared for and that they were ready to fight again. It is the three volleys that are significant, not the number of rifles. Three volleys fired over the casket have become a tradition to mean the dead have been cared for. It has evolved into a military salute for the deceased serving their country. Firing the three volleys over the casket is one of the highest honors to give a deceased military veteran. Our nation’s highest honor is a flag draped over the casket, folded and presented. Tradition is to place three spent shell casings inside the folded flag to prove now and forevermore that the deceased and his flag have had proper military honors. Nothing else is to be placed inside the flag.

I was taken back to a day just over two years ago when I stood in a military chapel as these honors were given for a young soldier, husband and father of someone who has become a very dear friend to me. At that time I didn't understand the ceremony. I was merely deeply shaken by its violence and finality and distraught that she had to endure it. When I saw the soldiers today I wanted to turn around and run away. My heart is tender from the memory of that day and the sting of this one.
I am keenly aware that I could be witnessing this detail at my own husband's funeral and I pray that it will be after he too has had an opportunity to live a full life in service to God and Country.

Monday, January 14, 2008

Claire's Club

I am accessory challenged. I rarely wear accessories, don't own many accessories and really have no idea how to choose them. So, in the new year, I will be working to present myself better in little ways. Once a month I am going to meet with a friend at Claire's and we are going to take the pocket change we have been putting aside and build our accessory wardrobe. Here are my finds from today. I accept all pity and disdain. I am not a girly girl. But I'm pretty sure all these items match.

This Is How I Got To Spend My Evening


Sunday, January 13, 2008

Direct Quotes

(From 15 year old Daughter)

"I'm so cool - ice cubes are jealous."

"Don't deoderant only attacked me..."

Friday, January 11, 2008

Ah, Irony - So We Meet Again (epic)

A couple of months ago I received a speeding ticket. For those of you that know me now, you must be pretty shocked. I was too. I have changed quite a bit since my youth. I am a lover of rules. I obey the law. And I am the one being pulled over by a state trooper and accused of doing 79 mph in a 65 mph zone. I literally questioned the status of the man's equipment. "Can we be certain that your equipment is working properly? Because you see, I had my cruise control engaged at 65 - so either there is something wrong with your equipment, or there is something wrong with my equipment." We don't even need to discuss what his opinion was on the subject. So, I took my equipment to its manufacturer and asked them to inspect it for proper functioning. Hm. Working within specs. As I am trying to gather information, everyone I speak to is of the attitude that the best thing that I can do is approach the District Attorney and ask if he/she would be willing to reduce the charges in order to keep it off my record and because it's just a speeding ticket - it's not worth what you would have to do to defend and you are most likely going to lose anyway because he is a Master Trooper and his equipment is basically infallible. So, the attitude of most people is, "It's just a speeding ticket." And because of that attitude, I have come to the conclusion that it is harder to defend yourself against a traffic ticket than against a capital crime.(Just this side of impossible in fact. Unless you are willing to pour thousands of dollars into it and cause others to lose time at work as well - and even then it doesn't look good) What???? Yes, I said it. Pay attention to the irony. Because it is 'just a traffic ticket' those involved in the process don't find it worth the time, money and effort it would involve to try it. So - that's it. You're guilty. OR, you can plead guilty to a lesser crime and pay less money. Okay. As a lover of rules, I cannot say that I did something that I did not do. So, this morning, tormented by my crutches and the farness of EVERYTHING IN THE WORLD, I went to defend myself against my speeding ticket. I had with me my side of the story, a copy of the repair order stating that my vehicle was checked by a factory certified mechanic and found to be working within factory specs, a copy of my spotless driving record, and of course my crutches. The ADA called my name and offered to take me to another room to confer with me. By take me, I do not in any way mean that he was going to sweep me up like Rhett Butler, carry me to this mysterious other room and offer to sweep this whole business under the rug. No, I mean he wanted me to "walk with him" as he put it - outside of the courtroom and into another area so we could discuss the matter without disturbing the current proceedings. Yay. So he makes me lean there on my crutches as he explains to me what I am charged with and what he is willing to do and has authority to do about the matter. "At this stage I do not have the authority to dismiss the case." (AKA - you have pushed us this far and now you must pay) "I can however talk to the trooper about reducing the charge to 70 in a 65 and wave the fine so you would only have to pay the court costs (you'll laugh about this later) If you are willing to plead guilty to that." He further explained to me that the 'evidence' I have brought with me is all hearsay and inadmissable in court, but that he is 'all for' giving those who want it their day in court. Okay. Sir. I do not want my day in court, or anyone else's day in court, I don't want to be here at all. However, I cannot stand in front of a judge and say that I did something that I did not do. That is lying. Purgery. A crime.(Yes I know I'm being dramatic). "Well perhaps you could plead 'no contest'". "What does that mean?" "Well basically, it will be treated the same as a guilty plea or guilty verdict, but you will not be actually admitting guilt. And then you will be responsible for the court costs, but I will waive the fine for the ticket." So, I ask him this question and that question about the effect that will have on my record, pocket book, insurance, reputation, etc etc. So he says, "Let me go talk to the trooper and see if he'll agree." "Okay. May I please go sit down now?" "Haha - yes." Have they STRETCHED the courthouse since I've been leaning for the last ten minutes?! WHERE did they move the mo crackin' courtroom to?? So I get seated and listen in on a trial for a man who is pleading guilty to a second offense of dwi. And I am so saddened by the whole situation and prompted to pray on the spot for this man by name. (This happened the day I went for my arraignment too, I was able to pray for so many people I never would have otherwise come in contact with as I was the VERY LAST person to be arraigned.) So, the ADA comes back to me and grins and says, "Walk with me" teehee. Oh yes, cute. We go back to the room of negotiation and he says, "The trooper says it would be fine with him; that you hadn't given him any trouble and he was agreeable," etc etc. *At this point I can hear my Mother exclaiming while rolling her eyes, "Oh NO! Here comes another one of Judi's lectures!"* And here is the 'lecture'. I explained to the ADA very politely that from the moment I received the ticket, there was basically no help for me, etc etc, blah blah blah - make up your own rant here - I'm too tired to type the whole conversation. Anyway, I agreed to plead 'no contest' to a charge of 70 in a 65 and in my mind there WAS no contest - can't be a contest if it's not a fair fight. Whatever. :{ I think I'm getting crankier. So I listen to a couple more cases and pray for the people and the ADA calls my case before the judge. He explains the terms of our agreement to the judge and the judge is clearly irritated by this waste of everyone's time. "Are you in agreement with this?" "Yes sir." "Do you understand that you will be treated as though you were guilty?" "Yes sir." AND I JUMPED UP AND DOWN AND SCREAMED, "I'M JUST AS DISGUSTED BY THIS AS YOU ARE JUDGE BUT WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO? OFFER A BRIBE? PFT." Okay, really, that only happened in my head. And I also imagined using my crutches as missiles - I want to get rid of them anyway. So he asks, "You understand that you have to pay the court costs?" "Yes I do." "So that's $128 or 15 days in jail." WHOA! THERE WENT A MISSILE! RIGHT OUT OF MY HAND. Okay not really. BUT SERIOUSLY, "IF THIS IS 'JUST A TRAFFIC TICKET' WHY ARE YOU WILLING TO PUT ME IN JAIL OVER IT FOR 15 DAYS???" Fine, I didn't say that either. "Can you pay that now?" There was a slight, and thankfully undetectable chuckle from me as I said, "Yes sir I can." Why did I chuckle? Well, the thought directly before I opened my mouth was, "Oh. I can go to jail for 15 days and not have to pay the court costs? They don't let children in jail." So, the Judge accepts my plea - albeit annoyed - and directs me to go sit and wait in another area of the courtroom. Yay. So I start heading over there, spectacle that I am and the Sheriff lets me navigate steps into this gallery seating and almost lets me meet the axis of gravity to get my booty into a seat when he asks, "Are you ready to go over and take care of that now?" *alarm, alarm, alarm...* He said, are you ready to 'GO OVER'....GO OVER WHERE?????? Eh, hem - to pay your fees, fines, whatever - you have to go down 3 floors, out of the courthouse, ACROSS THE STREET, UP SOME STEPS, around and about into the JAIL and then go up 3 floors to the 'pay or stay' area. I responded, well yes, I would love to do that. Would it be possible first, because I just love the exercise I am getting, if I could travel BACK ACROSS THE COURTROOM TO MY ORIGINAL SEAT and collect my belongings that I had to leave there whilst being tried? Well, yes. do that. ME = 'oh thank you so much you handsome, tall, strong, strapping group of very helpful State Troopers who pity me enough to hold open the swingy partition things while I hobble through, but care not enough to not give me a stinking ticket.' Okay, so me and my new friends, the Sheriff and the DWI guy who has to pay or stay go off to jail together. Have I mentioned that the jailhouse was in MARYLAND(aka across the street)? Why are these crutches so heavy? What are they made out of? The lost city of gold?? And why can't I breathe? And why do my arms burn so bad? All right, I kid you is my thought as the three musketeers are traversing our way through the biggest mountains I have ever seen in my life (aka - curbs and stairs) "If I stay at the jailhouse and just serve the 15 days, I won't have to crutch the continent back to my car that is parked in Antarctica." I'm going to skip the 'you, although being escorted by an armed professional who does this every day, came to the wrong area of the jail' incidents and the 'Betty, this ticket must be in the old system, do we want to put it in the new system while this exhausted and wronged woman leans here on her crutches because she is so lame that she fell?' and get to the part about how I made it back to my car without crying, or falling - although I did stop. A lot. On the way home, I was thinking about how I would blog and the whole situation of what went down and did I sell out or not, etc etc and I was talking to God about it and wondering, "Did You allow all this just so that I would go and pray for those people? Seems quite a bit of suffering on my part." God said, "Would you have gone if I had just asked?" pft. I am exhausted and my whole body hurts and I am weary. I am going to pray,then lay, and hopefully dream my cares away and rest in the promise from Matthew 11:28, "Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest."

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

Frustrated Rant to Worship

Praise team rehearsal was disastrous this morning. I hobbled in late, had to have help getting the music box in, didn't even bother bringing my guitar cause I can't carry it and I can't play it, had no music prepared and couldn't even think straight to answer questions or give direction. I feel ashamed and wonder how we are possibly going to glorify God in this state. Well, you know what? God is still on the throne. My Redeemer still lives. Ever have those times where singing your heart out just isn't enough? Like - you feel like, there must be MORE you can do....? This song is a piece of worship that inspires that in me. While you are watching this video, know that I am singing my heart out and lifting my hands to the One True God because I know that He lives.

Monday, January 7, 2008

Falling Down is Dumb

So today the kids and I were in the px parking lot on our way to the car when I stepped on the edge of a hole and bent my left ankle in half. I went crashing down on my right knee (which caused all my little girl, burning,bloody, scraped knee memories to come flooding back.) It took the kids a minute or so to hear my exclaiming, "Oh man, that really hurt. Oh man, that really hurts. Ugh, oh man that really hurts." *thinking, "Please don't cry, please don't cry, please don't cry"* I managed to get up (left my dignity in the hole) and get to the car. I climbed in and began the inspection and triage process. The ankle swelled to gross proportions immediately and hurt pretty well. Okay, okay, breathe,breathe. We are close to the ER, and we live about 20 minutes from here so that's a pro for going. Um, I am accompanied by children. not going. It is really swollen. going. It could just need some time to recover but not be that serious. not going. It really hurts. going. I HAVEN'T SHAVED MY LEGS. NOT GOING. Teaching the kids to be brave and know when to seek medical attention. going. It's really swollen. going. It REALLY hurts. So I went. From the ER I called an angel of a friend and she came about an hour later and got the kids - whom had been carting me around to x-ray and back in a wheel chair. Okay, as perfect strangers had to examine my ankle, they had the terrible misfortune of having to see my DIRTY socks, then my hairy legs, then my hairy FEET, then my scraggly toenails and the piecederesistance; sock lint in between my toes. As if falling down in the middle of the parking lot wasn't humiliating enough. And btw - my 12 year old son was such a friend to me! He cleaned the lint out of my toes so I could have a slight bit of pride back. *Insert angels singing here* Then I made him wash his hands. I was in the ER for 4 hours. I have a sprained ankle - praise the Lord it did not break AND was not my driving foot - and am relegated to crutches for at least a week or two. The moral of the story: Listen to your mother's advice! Always go out in clean underwear, and shave your legs even if you THINK that no one is going to see them!
Here's some encouragement from my Heavenly Father located in His Word at Daniel 11:35, "Some of the wise will stumble, so that they may be refined, purified and made spotless until the time of the end, for it will still come at the appointed time." Thank You Lord for providing me an opportunity to be refined and purified and for my children an opportunity to rise to the occasion and for others to be a blessing to me.

P.S. - Another angel of a friend is picking me up tomorrow and taking me straightaway for a pedicure. Somehow I am going to shave my legs before then.


I have been saved from scraggly toes!!

Sunday, January 6, 2008

Letters From War (excerpts)

Dec 15, 07

You probably won't get this til after New Years, so I hope your trip was good.
I'm still hanging in there. I actually got two nights in a row of decent sleep.
...Christmas is right around the corner but it sure doesn't feel like it here. I try to remember to floss and take my vitamin every day. I'm also trying to increase my fruits and veggies. I made it through two swallows of V8 juice and just couldn't do it.
Shoot, i'm really writing about nothing.
I love you.
Be strong in Him.

Saturday, January 5, 2008

Tumbleweed invasion

First, let me say, "It's good to be back in cyberspace!" I have a lot of catching up to do and I will start with an entry into the Southern Living category. We have been out of touch because we have been visiting family in Southern California. I had no idea that I would have any entries from California in the Southern Living category, but this particular blog really is specific to living in Southern California, so here comes the fun.....
Across the road from my parents' home is the home camp of an invading army. It sort of reminds me of something you would see in a science-fiction movie; Alien pods all growing in the field waiting to 'hatch' and go about spreading mayhem.

Perhaps you can't see the General here making his plans for just the right time to attack, but they were all ready to go the moment a powerful, epic windstorm came upon our valley. Like a well-oiled machine, teams of these soldiers uprooted and headed west to the enemy camp(that's us). The first string met with the great resistance (that's the 5-foot chain link fence). The second string also could not penetrate this fortified barrier. So, "What did they do?" you ask? Well, I'll tell you. They regrouped and their General came up with a brilliant plan - Leap Frog. So, the first string and second string banded together against the fence in order to give the third string a 'boost' over the previously impenatrable barrier. And again, like a well-oiled machine, their comrades tumbled right over the 5 foot fence and began the occupation of various areas of our encampent (aka - our home). For days we didn't know what to do, so we sent in a scout....

Our brave little scout burrowed through here and there to gather intelligence and the enemy barely even noticed his existence. He let us know that the only way was for us to gather our weapons and oust the enemy from our camp.(Also, my Dad called the city and they said they would only remove the debris from public property - and you for sure cannot just make a pile of them, throw some diesel fuel on it, and light it with glee in the great state of California!). So, our wee little army of me, the 12 year old twins, and my Mom on her lunch hour - got whatever tools we could find and pushed the opposing army back to it's camp! This was a painstaking battle, full of peril and injury (and my Mom had so many stickers in her hair, it looked like she had taken a roll in the hay), but we finally triumphed over every last enemy. I am seriously thinking of bringing this army up on charges under the Geneva convention because they in no way fought fair.

In the corner there you can see my Daughter sending one over the fence - what you don't see is my Mom on the other side of the tumbleweed helping her lift and push, and me on the receiving side of the fence also helping to lift and pull! Let me just remind you that you are looking at FIVE FOOT HIGH fencing and some of the tumbleweeds were taller than the fence. Victory is ours!