I want to eat some cat food...

OK, that title may be the PMS talking, but after seeing this commercial for the first time, I am seriously contemplating trying this,rather than midol, mixed drinks, and scream therapy to combat mood swings.

Watch here:






I saw this today and thought, what is this? Kitty Crack? The can opens and the cat jumps through some hallucinogenic portal to a land of dancing turkeys and chickens? I mean really, does no one else think this is like watching a kitty acid trip? I think they should change the background music to some Amy Whinehouse... ok, that was a little joke. tiny. teeny. itsy bitsy.

It did make me wonder though... at times, Micah has asked how my fatherless and well, weird upbringing affected me. Not too much I usually answer. I don't recall feeling especially oppressed. Now, now I remember eating (and getting scolded for) the Friskies as a small child and have to wonder... maybe I wasn't so tough and resilient... maybe I was just trippin' through the years on Kitty Food... ?

Why I can never work in the airline industry...

Well, aside from the number one reason, that being the intense desire to vomit at some point on almost every flight I have ever taken, these are some other reasons I cannot, nay, should not work in the airline industry...

I discovered these as I flew last week to Buffalo, NY. My hometown. Yes, that Buffalo... snow, chicken wings, and well, snow. That is what we are famous for. I kid you not, that whilst waiting for my mom in the airport, the smell of chicken wings was so strong that I was salivating a bit. But, I digress... back to the reasons for my career avoidance:

1. I could never ask someone who just paid the princely sum airline tickets now cost to then, pay an additional $25 for a checked bag. There is no way to even pack shampoo, gels, perfumes, etc. in a carry-on, thanks to the "3 oz" rule. So, what are we really charging for here? Am I being penalized because I like to take 12 pairs of underwear, four pairs of shoes, and 2 different, but both very necessary cans of hairspray on a four day trip? I might sue, it is a bias against women. Well, women and metro-sexual men.

2. I do not understand the constant warnings about this "stranger with a package". Where is this stranger and who has ever taken a package from them and boarded a plane with it? Really? Maybe I just put out the vibe as I read and sip ginger ale before a flight that I, I will not be duped by this stranger-package scheme. Do they also flash their headlights as a gang sign, and send me money if I forward e-mails for them?

3. Why do people sit in the waiting area yapping so brutally loud on their phones? Really, you have a whole airport you can walk around. I am reading. I don't care about your out of office phone message status or your boyfriend's new car. There is also this new and glorious invention with phones, it is called texting.

4. I cannot abide with blue polyester pants. Ever.

5. At some point, I would have to tell the loud business man who makes sure he boards before the wheel chair bound, small children, and nuns, "Forget it pal, you can get on last."

6. About the boarding lines... Why people, why the mad rush? Zone assignments are there for a reason. Again, I would stand at the gate and be hostile, "Oh yeah? Can you read this ticket? It says row 12. ROW 12. I clearly said we are boarding ROW 24 and HIGHER. Back of the line sucker." Then, I would not call row 12 until the bitter end. "Now boarding rows 10, 11, and 13. Oh yeah, 10, 11, and 13. Sorry row 12, you can wait courtesy of the line budger back there."

7. I would not be able to hand people that mini cup of soda-pop and keep the rest of the can. Seriously, after the ticket price and the bag charge, now I am expected to hold back on a 50cent can of soda? I would have to be generous and sneak people all of it... "Shhh, here you enjoy ALL 12 oz. but don't tell my boss." wink wink.

8. Bathrooms. I think if you have read this blog for any significant amount of time, you know I am not a fan of public restrooms. The bathrooms on planes are a whole other realm of fearsome loathing, and I will avoid them to the point that my bladder has almost burst. It is also why I carry pocket size lysol. (take that carry on rules... lysol weighs in at a perfect 1 oz.) I once had to spray the bathroom door down repeatedly with mine, as I was given the worst seat on a plane ever... the one right next to the bathroom. It stunk. Bad.

9. I would seat people in a very biased fashion.

*You, line budger, you now get the seat by the commode. Then I would pass out free sauer kraut to everyone.

*You, weak looking bald guy? You are NOT getting the emergency exit aisle. Sorry, we are giving that to gym rat guy in the zubaz pants and tank top.

*Lady with the hacking cough? You are sitting on a different flight. Bye Bye now.

*Cell phone yapper? Yeah, we are seating you right next to that screaming baby.

*First class snob? Hmmm... oops, we cannot find you in the computer. Enjoy coach.

*Young couple politely waiting? We just had an opening in first class, would you like a free upgrade?

Yeah, airline service is clearly not my industry...

Here are some photos... despite bloggers insane photo posting ways. There are no scrappy things to share because they are on an old post that I never published. To transfer them here would be sheer madness... or patience. Whatever. This is all for today, some of my favorite recent photos. :)

This is from the "My wife made me do this" photo shoot. Tri-Pod, backyard, disgruntled husband. The angst made for a good photo no?

An inch worm. Surprisingly harder to shoot than one would think. It kept moving. Alot. I thought about squishing it and then taking the photo, my inner hippie won out and the worm lived.

I like this one. Don't know why, but I do. Make a wish and all I guess...

Alden in the sunshine. SOOC. (that means Straight Out Of the Camera. As in, unedited. I just learned that term. I like it.)

Oh, the iPhone Hipstimatic App. I bought it a while back for Micah's IP. I love it. It makes me want an IP even more. Not enough to pay out a contract on my blackberry, but the envy is there, I admit it. For now I steal his at every chance and snap pictures.

Day 11...

We are now at Day 11 of Micah being gone. He is in Swaziland, Africa. I have not blogged about it thus far because, well... who knows who reads this, and would have come to try and steal my ultra-valuable gems and such. HA! In reality, any freak entertaining that thought should know, I pack a loaded 9mm and know how to shoot it. Accurately too, I might add.

No matter though, by the time anyone reads this my Micah will be back, and I will be very glad. I was also glad to have sent him though. Why? Well, it was not just so I could eat cheese puffs and fruity pebbles for dinner. (although that did in fact, occur). I was excited for him to experience the reality of those at the carepoint our church sponsors. We (our church, that is) work with Hopechest, and not only sponsor the kids individually, we will make visits there, help plan out a more permanent kitchen for meal prep, a well, etc.

I knew from the first skype call that God was moving in Micah's heart. He used the words, "gut wrenching" and "amazing" alot. He said the thing that struck him most was seeing these kids, who often get only one meal a day, with these huge smiles, and just so full of happiness. Then you look down and see, tattered clothes, literally thread bare. Barefeet with healing wounds, and on some, scars from burns, or neglected injuries. YET... these children smile.

I thought of my own kids who have cried over missing a toy, or not getting dessert. Then I thought of myself, having a pity party because I can't get my way, or walking to a closet so bloated with like new clothes, and saying, "Well, I have nothing to wear". Talk about SHAME. I am ashamed at how ungrateful I am.

Now, lest you say, this is a knee jerk reaction to extreme poverty, I say WHAT IF?

What If... We didn't complain about our clothes but were thankful to have them? Glad they covered our whole bodies and were hole free and actually clean?
What If... we opened our fridge and looked at the food inside and said, "THANK YOU LORD!" Even if our favorites were not on the shelf?
What If... we stopped thinking about ME ME ME and thought about THEM THEM THEM?

You don't have to go Africa to help people in need. Talk to your aging neighbor who is lonely. Make a meal for the single mom who is going it alone and is too tired to cook after a long day. Give some extra food to a food bank, and eat a little less this week. Talk to that mom who seems to be extra chatty at the park, even if it messes up your afternoon plans.
When I say "you"... I mean ME! I need to do these things. Please make no mistake. I am talking to myself here... I am the moron with so many shoes she can't pick which ones to wear. I am the neighbor who would rather keep to herself than give up my time to listen to an old lady talk about her warts and dentures. I am the girl looking at her watch instead of engaging that mom at the park. I am the glutton who ate until her belly was too full at dinner this week, and threw out leftovers.

I am one who wants to know... What if?
Are you?

Can you please think about it for a moment? And maybe, maybe you are better at this than me and so many others. If so, encourage us as we try to live a better, more GRATEFUL existence. Rebuke me when I whine, chastise me when I waste, challenge me when I plateau, and encourage me when I think I cannot do it.

Oh folks... WHAT IF???

Hello List of Random Facts... my old faithful friend.

***Well, I just popped in here to update my blog and found this post from a few weeks ago, never published! I blame Micah. Now that I am a pastor's wife, I make him edit before I publish. So, if there is anything offensive in this post, blame him, the "rev".) ***


When one realizes they have once AGAIN failed to update their blog, one can always go to the "Random List of Facts and Observations". I like the list. It's convenient, doesn't necessarily need to make sense, and best of all, you can make it as long or as short as you want. So here is a list of one random fact. Just kidding. There will be more than one, and they will most certainly be random, as my brain capacity diminishes every time I am forced to ask "who didn't flush the toilet again?".


1. This weekend was very important. All because of one word. EMPTY is that word, and that one word, and the fact of what it means, have made my life more FULL than I ever thought possible. Empty, full. Thank you Jesus.


2. Last week was also a tad important as a certain chattykathy with red hair who lives in this house had a birthday. It was me! Good guess. I asked Micah for NOTHING since I am saving my pennies for a speedlite. He came home with chinese, wine, and a potted plant. Smart man. Especially after he started the day with a jab at me being old... 9 months, the man is NINE months younger than me and you'd think I picked him up at preschool or something...


3. I am happy to report that my friend, JMac, as mentioned 2 posts ago in reference to Trader Joes, she did in fact take that mammoth "hint" and picked me up all my favorite goodies on her last trip there. I love that girl and her ability to pick up on my subtle ways. Its like she is a mind reader or something...


4. After getting my TJs goodies I discovered... take the sinfully good lemon curd, add in fresh strawberries and a wee bit of fat free cool whip and I call that dinner. (and breakfast and lunch too actually). Also, my friend Kate and I could probably eat a whole jar of it this way, and I truly think, at some point we shall do just that.


5. I tilled my garden today and I really smelled like gasoline. And sweat. And dirt. I must be part farmer because I kind of liked it.


6. I cooked a whole chicken last week, beer can up its little butt style. I did not eat any of said chicken. You want to know why? I took out the beer can, and there were little bits of corn inside the chicken. That's when it hit me... corn is what chickens eat, this is like, chicken poop. I have kids, I know what goes in as corn, comes out as corn. Who the heck is in charge of the corny chicken butt removal department at Perdue anyway? I will likely never cook a whole chicken again because of this incident.


7. I am craving asparagus. With balsamic vinegar and feta. I am now accessing your worth as a person based on how much you are drooling right now. No drool= we will never be close. Little drool= we can meet in the middle. Lots of drool= pull up a chair and have a seat, there is more salt 'n vinegar talk where that came from.


8. I made Micah take pictures with me Saturday. I am finding out, my Micah hates being made to sit in the lawn and take flickr worthy photos. he literally said, "What if the neighbors see us? We will look so weird." Really? The neighbor who just rode a child's mini motorcycle to his front yard to sell? Followed by a golf cart? This is who you are worried about? Whatever..." I said, "park it in the grass and smile pal... "


9. I took pictures of Alden in a little white bodysuit a couple weeks ago. Why??? Well, a) he looked cute b) he was also wearing a tie-dye, and everyone knows, Jude ♥s tie dye, and c) I realized that warm weather was coming and it was probably the last time my last baby would ever wear a little white baby bodysuit. I am not even going to sugar coat the bawling that followed that photo op. (micah remains steadfast in his no more babies stance, I am wavering, ever so slightly, but it takes two to dance that tango so... )


10. I cannot tell a lie. I have watched the first three episodes of Jerseylicious. I am ashamed, but the hair stylist in me cannot look away. I mean, there are almost no words... except for these: Less Makeup. (ps I think the show is really shot on days when that salon is closed too, no one, at least no one sane, would ever let those people actually do their hair.)

The End.
Oh, and thanks to blogspots weirdo photo spacing issuing, no photos. Apologies.

Manly Men...

I was chatting with my hip pal Martha. We were chatting about our husbands and their true manly man ways. It inspired me to let the internet world, and the 8 people who read this blog, know the following...

How to know if you have a manly man: (in no particular order)

1. He has beat someone up. No, I don't mean in a redneck bar brawl. I mean in the name of justice, and defending the right. When we were dating some guy made a less than pure joke about me, and all I know is, his neck was in Micah's hand whilst his body was slightly lifted off the ground and my Micah calmly explained that this, this was not something he should ever say again. I admit it, I swooned at being defended. Manly Man.

2. You know your man is a manly man if he laughs at pain. Pepper spray hurts, alot. I barely got a dusting in my face once and was sucking ice water up my nose and declaring my impending blindness. Micah was sprayed in the face, full on whilst he was a police officer. He laughed, literally, at the pain. Others cussed, cried for their mamas (shudder) or begged to be taken to the ER. Not my Micah. Manly Man.

3. A manly man has at some point, been employed in a job that entails carrying a weapon. Bonus points if he also has a knife hidden somewhere on him as well. Manly Man with a paycheck.

4. You know your man has it if he has ever walked up to a soccer coach who just yelled at your kid, undeservedly at that, and shakes his hand, but lets him know that this, this will not happen again. By the end, the coach is apologizing to not only your man, but your kid. This is handled with a smile, and not rudeness or threats. The Manly man just oozes influential testosterone.

5. If you have ever been puking sick, rendered smelly, ugly, and gross... you will know your man's manliness levels quickly. Manly man holds your hair and helps you get in a hot shower. (yeah, manly man likes to help when you are naked, tis true. But, he is your husband, and a manly also likes to see his woman in the buff. note: HIS woman.)

6. You know a manly man is there, when he looks at his firstborn. That bond is there, and it is palpable. A Manly Man tells you, you are amazing, and then changes a diaper. Wipe it Manly Man.

7. Washing dishes? For a manly man? Oh yes... Manly man can kill his own meal AND clean up the pan he made it in, that combination is what makes him a manly man.

8. A manly man teaches his children. He tells them how to wrestle, ride a bike, use a pocket knife, play games, respect a woman, and pray. Teach 'em Manly Man.

9. The most important feature of the Manly Man... he loves Jesus more than he loves you...


See, you read those first few and thought it was going to be all Tim Allen- grunt and scratch-outdoor channel- kind of stuff...

And yes, I realize the list is an even nine, not ten. My manly man can proof read too, and he will let me know if that is a terrible faux pas or not. My Micah is amazing for more than a goofy list can ever convey, and yes. I still swoon over him. Alot.

Sorry ladies, this manly man is taken... go get your own...



Oh, and PS: One more opinion based insight... A Manly Man never wears skinny jeans. A straight fit, yes. I'll even go ya' a tapered leg, but true skinny jeans... not happening.