Guess I'm it.

Got tagged by three peeps (geez already) so here are the rules:

1.Post the rules on your blog
2.Write 6 random things about yourself
3.Tag 6 people at the end of your post
4.If you are tagged, just do it, and pass the tag along!


Why is it hard to be random on queue when normally it's so effortless?

1. To get my morning coffee I favor a little drive-thru coffee/photo hut/kiosk-thingy place. I like the fact that this particular company has two of these little drive-thru hut-a-mi-jigs (one on each end of town) for my half-caf Americano drinking convenience and another near work in case I need another fix mid-day.

I also like this company's product. They never burn their beans (unlike some coffee chains) and decaf, haf-caf, fully leaded, sour pumpkin latte, coffee straight up, Mexican mocha blended with whip and extra cinnamon... it all tastes good and is, every time, no matter who the barista, pulled to my exacting standards.

The one thing I cannot stand is that this company favors hiring cutesy, fully coiffed at 5am, college co-eds whose hopped-up on espresso perkiness lends itself to all manner of annoying questions while stamping my punch card, taking my cash, and pulling my joe. Do they honestly care what I'm doing that day, what my plans for the weekend are, or where I'm going? I don't want to talk, but to give my order. Do they think by showing interest they're going to get a tip? When they're charging me $2.00 a cup? Ha! Unlikely.

What I long for is to be waited on by some tossled forty something that looks as tired as I feel and doesn't talk, but merely grunts when I hand them my card and cash. I think the one coffee-hut on the edge of town is picking up on my preferences. The other day I was greeted with a simple: "half-caf or decaf?" "Decaf please," I said. To which I was immediately handed a waiting cup. Sweet child. I gave her a fiver and told her to keep the change.


2. I recently found a wonderful hair stylist. I walked in and asked her to cut my hair because it was beginning to look like a giant mushroom was sitting on my head. When she asked what I wanted done I explained that I am chic deficient and have no clue what hair style would look best on me. I figured since she was the professional and had cute hair herself she could figure it out. I told her I had great faith in her abilities, so much so I didn't even want to watch as she cut and primped.

She ran a few ideas past me, I shrugged cluelessly, and she jumped right into the task like a real trooper. The end result: I have pretty cute, non-mushroomy hair, and a new stylist that understands my fashion blindness and like a sissors weilding labrador is willing to help me navigate the world of hair.


3. I eschew most things girly, but am helpless before stinkum water. I can spend hours in a store smelling perfume, bubble bath, and lotions. Go figure.


4. When I was 10 or so I once told my father that I wished that my name was Sandy or Bobbi, Beth I thought was too old-fashioned. He told me that when I was born my mother wanted to name me Gina Antoinette, to which he pointed out that we were neither Italian nor French.

Gina means queen. Antoinette means priceless. Priceless Queen? Yeah, my ego needs that. I'm pretty sure Bobbi means stripper, but only if spelled with an i and Sandy means uncomfortable. Elizabeth means consecrated or sworn to God, Beth means house or home, Leigh, in the shelter of, so: sheltering home sworn to God. It's no Maximus Decimus, but I can live with it.

Lesson learned: be thankful for what you got.

Note to self: send Dad something nice.


5. I take deep joy in cleaning my home. I wish I got to do it more. There are few things more satisfying then walking barefoot across a freshly scrubbed floor. That said, it's a toss up which is currently filthier: my home, office, or car.


6. I have killed Pumpkin-Palooza this year. Between Awana, junior high book club, a youth pastor conference (tomorrow- blech), Ben's Tiger Encounter (next weekend, thank you Lisa), meeting with my mentor, catering a luncheon for 140, hunting down Sunday school volunteers, writing curriculum, teaching Sunday's, and dealing with ministry pop-ups I'm tuckered.

The pumpkin mania that normally descends upon me every year has passed me by this autumn. I'd mourn, but I'm content to pass the torch and let others worry about fall festivities. Besides, what little energy I have left is going into making a blueberry scented Halloween costume and a giant batch of caramel corn.

In the hopes that you all have fun and frolicking pumpkin carving parties planned I offer up my faithful pumpkin sausage pasta recipe, proudly served every year at the Palooza.

Enjoy!


Tagging:
Angeleen
Kathie
Kristen
Li
Re
and Doctor (I want to know the cow story)

From my mailbox...

"Women are often portrayed in stories and tales as the Damsel in Distress. We are the ones for whom men rise up and slay dragons. We are the weaker sex; said to faint at the sight of blood, needing to be spared the gory details of battle whether on the field or in the market place. We are the ones waiting in our flowing gowns for the knight to come and carry us away on the back of his white horse. And yes. There are days when a knight in shining armor would be most welcome. We do long to be fought for; loved enough to be courageously protected. But there is a mighty fierceness set in the heart of women by God. It is true to who we are and what we are created to do.

Women are warriors too.

Redeemed women of God have tender, merciful hearts, backbones of steel and hands that have been trained for battle. There is something incredibly fierce in the heart of a woman that is to be contended with, not dismissed, not disdained, but recognized, honored, welcomed and trained."

From Captivating, by John and Staci Eldridge



Trained? Not tumbled along through life? For reals?! What does that look like I wonder?

Rejoicing!

A mighty noise was heard across the land... men cheered, children laughed, women clapped, and angels wept with joy because the pickling was done!

50 pounds, people.
50 pounds of cucumbers.
I will smell like a deli for weeks.

Dills, bread 'n' butters, cornichons, I got 'em all.

Next up: the laundry! Stay tuned for the next episode of LIFE AS A WORKING MOM.

The Omnivore's Hundred

From the blog, Very Good Taste

"Here’s a chance for a little interactivity for all the bloggers out there. Below is a list of 100 things that I think every good omnivore should have tried at least once in their life. The list includes fine food, strange food, everyday food and even some pretty bad food - but a good omnivore should really try it all. Don’t worry if you haven’t, mind you; neither have I, though I’ll be sure to work on it. Don’t worry if you don’t recognise everything in the hundred, either; Wikipedia has the answers.

Here’s what I want you to do:

1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) Optional extra: Post a comment here at www.verygoodtaste.co.uk linking to your results."


The Shuriken and Chevre Results:

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros (a Fox staple)
4. Steak tartare (haven't gotten around to trying Bistro Maison's yet, but I will)
5. Crocodile (alligator count?)
6. Black pudding (can't bring myself to do it. It's a scab)
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi (I think? At Swaggat?)
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses (the king of cheeses?! Where do I get me some of that?)
17. Black truffle (in oil form only)
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes (grow 'em myself)
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras (some day, when I'm rich)
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper (I prefer it in salsa form though)
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters (most recently: bar-be-qued)
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda (I never have, but that is something I will soon remedy)
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut (every chance I get)
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar (I've had the cigar...)
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O (like my Vodka sans the gelatin)
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail (makes a lovely, silky soup)
41. Curried goat (Chris keeps saying goat is excellent)
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk (fresh goat's milk is a revelation)
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu (the only potentially lethal food I'm interested in eating comes from Hostess)
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel (sushi)
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear (I always want to buy it at the market, but I don't know what I would do with it)
52. Umeboshi (sorta. I had a dried version once. Once.)
53. Abalone (it's illegal)
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine (may have to make the trip to Canada)
60. Carob chips (blech. Unfortunately)
61. S’mores (last week, for lunch)
62. Sweetbreads (thymus gland anyone?)
63. Kaolin (dirt? Erm...no)
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake (I've had 'em all! Who doesn't enjoy deep fried bread rolled in sugar?)
68. Haggis (make my own every Burns Day)
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette (menudo count?)
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini (yes, but not together)
73. Louche absinthe (I'd be hesitant to drink something called wormwood)
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong (like drinking a campfire)
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant (again, when I'm rich)
85. Kobe beef (I'm working on Wagu)
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers (lavender is delicious)
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee (it's only a matter of time)
100. Snake (I don't like the taste of reptile. It does not taste like chicken. If I want chicken, I'll eat chicken)

A Video for the Moose.

Thought this was cool...

Letters to a Moose, Part Three: in which I bore you with talk of canning and why Boy Scouts and uteruses should never mix.

Dear Moose:

Swimming, golfing, running, sounds like you sure are living the California life. We are firmly entrenched in the life of the Oregon wilds (which is to say canning season is upon us).

We went cherry picking the weekend before last. We picked about 13 pounds. Your Father and I picked 5-6 pounds (which is to say that the Bear picked about as much as he normally does). I've put up one batch of jam so far. It failed to set up properly and shall be relabled syrup. And while tasty, the recipe called for the addition of cinnamon and clove, which makes my summer cherry syrup taste like Christmas. It's a bit strange. Think I'll scrap that recipe and try something different.

Raspberries are up next, the raspberry lavender jam always sets up so nice, I'll be putting up lots. That means when it comes time to pick Bear better find where he stores his motivation or else he is going to be at it all day.

Speaking of Bear and tasks and trials...

We shipped him off to Scout camp the day after cherry picking. He enjoyed the days of running around at the seashore doing "scouty" things, but became very homesick at night. Nights while very dark were also very cold and the tent wasn't exactly homey (which is to say not even remotely comfortable). Your father drove me out to the camp mid-week not just for the Bear, but because they needed more parental types, either way I would've gone (which is to say the boy was just that pathetic when he called home).

Bear had a rain slicker and a few long sleeve shirts, but no sweat shirts so he was chilly during evening meetings. I bought him a camp sweat shirt when I got there. He was also lacking a pillow because it didn't fit into/onto his pack. I brought him one. His sleeping bag wasn't warm enough, so I brought him an extra blanket. Once adequate warmth and comfort levels were achieved he had a rather nice time (which is to say he wanted his Mom). Sounds like I molly-coddled him, huh? Let me tell you...

Seven boys from our pack went to camp, so did four Moms and two Dads, with parents switching out during the week there was always at least three Moms in attendance. Before you think "hen-pecked" you should know that three out of seven of those boys are sans a Dad (which is to say if not on a permanent basis then darn close). All in all it was a good time and the boys from the pack if not always perfect gentlemen were always good boys... rambunctious at times, but not malicious. I wish I could say the same about the parents.

No one was out-and-out harsh, but man! I have never heard so much whispered nastiness. There were always comments about other parents and their parenting styles or other children that weren't living up to some set standard. And boy howdy! You couldn't win for trying! If you helped your kid out then well! Your child had maturity issues and if you didn't then you were a crappy parent (which is to say, I suck. See above: lack of pillow, blanket, and warm clothing). One poor boy forgot his hairbrush, couldn't find his toothbrush till the final day of camp, didn't have any spending money, and was, in general, floated a raft of crap all week.

Kids were drilled about manners and keeping their elbows off the table by parents whose children would belch thunderously at said table. One Mom told me I wasn't allowed to carry a boy's water bottle in my bag on a hike, because he had to learn responsibility, consequences, preparedness (pick one), but when her own child's lanyard water bottle holder broke she stuck his bottle in her bag without even thinking of his education in responsibility. consequences, and preparedness.

I remember my own days of camp when hairbrushes, toothbrushes, showers, yes even a goodly amount of manners were laid aside (which is to say you couldn't be rude, but elbows on the table... not a hanging offense) in the freedom of being away from home. Bah! I suppose by ranting about all this then I'm no better then those folks, so I'll leave off now.

Camp was what it should be in my estimation: uncomfortable sleeping conditions, horrific food, lots of dirt and silly songs. There were bad jokes, lots of farting, and lots of bad jokes about farting. We hiked (which to my surprise I really enjoyed), played on the beach, saw lots of deer, and even bears (which is to say a bear and her cubs wandered into our part of the camp looking for food- exciting, but not in a good way)! Most importantly, Bear had a good time so good enough!

Anyway, it's getting late so I'm gonna sign off. Can't wait to see you. I imagine you're more muscled and a good deal more tan then when we last saw you. We are still pudgy and pasty and slightly mildewed. I hope this finds you well and ready to come home (which is to say, I miss you bunches).

Love you,

Mom

A Quiz For the Moose...

Dude, forget the combat boots! Your Mom's a gladiator!

Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0 created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Maximus After his family was murdered by the evil emperor Commodus, the great Roman general Maximus went into hiding to avoid Commodus's assassins. He became a gladiator, hoping to dominate the colosseum in order to one day get the chance of killing Commodus. Maximus is valiant, courageous, and dedicated. He wants nothing more than the chance to avenge his family, but his temper often gets the better of him. William Wallace 75% Maximus 75% The Terminator 71% Neo, the "One" 71% Indiana Jones 67% Batman, the Dark Knight 67% The Amazing Spider-Man 54% James Bond, Agent 007 50% Lara Croft 42% Captain Jack Sparrow 42% El Zorro 33%

Letters to a Moose, Part Two: in which we adopt another child, talk like pirates, and blow stuff up

Dear Moose:

Was glad to hear you're getting a chance to swim and have water fights. It's good that you are having fun. Life here is pretty much what you'd expect. Thursday went to work and the Bear had to come with, he was not bored to tears exactly, but only just. I gave him some copying to do and frolicking in the supply room seemed to keep him content until I could finish up. Because he was... erm... patient? I took him out to lunch. I wanted to take him someplace special, but where do you take someone like the Bear that can be considered special, when you know his epicurean pinnacle is a bacon cheeseburger? We decided on Red Robin. Not the usual burger joint for us and they have TV's in the floor! Bear liked that touch.

Later that night David came over for dinner and video games. Bear and he played Lego Indiana Jones on the Wii. It's a cute game, one we may have to own. Your father and I, being the old fuddy-duddy's that we are had a hard time keeping our eyes open and had to shuffle David off so we could collapse. Poor David, he is girl-less this weekend and very sad for it so we decided to adopt him. When you get home you'll have a big brother to torture! It's nice cause he doesn't really take up any room, being as skinny as he is and all. Though... if he's going to be one of my kids I should give him a blogging nickname so as to protect his identity... hmmm... Kitten? We'll try that one on for awhile.

Yesterday, Kitten came over for brunch. We had huevos, cranberry-chocolate chip scones, and watermelon with mint-sugar and fresh lime. It was a very tasty way to spend the morning/afternoon. Kitten brought a new board game with him. It's called Dread Pirate. By the time we finished eating and got to the game Lisa had shown up. Things got pretty interesting after that.

Your father and I were a team as there were only four pirate ships, our "captaining" together didn't prove to be a good combination as we came in third, only just managing to beat out the Bear (and this only because he broadsided and challenged anyone and everyone who came within distance of his cannons). Kitten and Lisa had a grudge match going for most of the game. I have never seen anyone as fiercely competitive at board games as the Liser until yesterday, the Kitten is her match. He hissed and scratched every time she managed to steal the Dread Pirate flag from him. She meanwhile chortled and hurled pirate-y insults while talking to her imaginary parrot. Like I said it was quite an afternoon.

Evening found us at the Skaggs' for sausage and fireworks. We had a huge spread! There was a pile of sausage, German potato salad, more watermelon, cookies, hummus, pita chips, sodas, beer, and a Jello/Cool-Whip salad (made by yours truly as the Kitten requested it). As usual we had waaaay more food then we could eat. Something different at this years festivities was the presence of Pastor. It was nice to hang out with him though I confess I was highly distracted by Bear and Odin.

Odin finished his dinner ("MMMmmmEAT!" As he likes to say and all he really likes to eat) and then squirmed out of his chair to trounce your brother all over the yard. Poor Bear! Odin's favorite thing to do was to step and/or jump onto Bear- his gut, his neck, his nethers. The louder Bear groaned the harder Odin giggled. Pretty soon your brother was reduced to the fetal position in the grass. Odin, grass stained and wheezing was right there with him only it was cause he was laughing too hard to remain erect. It's understandable that Odin wasn't too happy about going to bed after having fun like that, but to bed he went and then out came the explosives!

We had the usual array of firecrackers. Lisa lit off as many Ground Flowers as she could at one time (I think the most was 8). There were a few smoke bombs and Piccolo Pete's (two of my least favorites). Ben lit off several showering types (like the Medusa, the Green Willow, and one known as Around the World which looked like a globe and when lit spun sparks everywhere- it was pretty cool). The real fun began when a few rockets flew up onto neighboring roofs! When no flames showed we all sighed in relief and the rockets were put away. The rest of the evening was spent with (mostly) garden variety firecrackers with two exceptions...

Lisa apparently found one of the rockets and not knowing what it was lit it off. It flew across the backyard, into the street, and clear into a neighbor's yard, where it landed in front of a police car. The police were out in force (as they are every Fourth) to kibosh the use of illegal fireworks. Apparently they were too busy with the neighbor's display to notice Lisa's rocket. Another collective sigh went up until... Kitten, not happy with fireworks, had bought some black powder. He had some interesting uses for the explosive stuff. Nothing too dangerous or scary and really nothing I'm going to go into as I don't want to give you any ideas for future hijinks. And so ended our Fourth.

I'm glad the skies cleared and you were able to see some fireworks. Doesn't seem like the Fourth without something sparkly to mark to occasion. Well, I'm going to sign off now as I have some prepping for Sunday school to get to. Hope all is well in CA. We miss you and look forward to seeing you soon.

Much love,

Mom

Letters to a Moose, Part One: in which Bear wears capris, we see a so-so movie, and a deer attempts murder/suicide

Dear Moose:

I hope you are having a good time with your grandparents and aunt and uncles and that they are not working you too hard. Aunt Jess said she'd get you to the beach and in the pool as much as possible, but that your help will be needed in tearing out the old kitchen and helping to construct the new. Be a good helper. I know you will serve your grandfather without complaint and that is how it should be. We already miss you here, especially the Bear. He thought he'd like being an only child, but he doesn't know quite what to do with himself without you about.

After seeing you boarded we headed back to the car and I commented on how the "long" pair of shorts your dad bought Bear looked like capris pants. Looking at Bear skip/lumber through the airport I came to the conclusion that, in fact, that is what they are. I told your dad that all Bear needed was a pair of Crocs and a polo shirt and he could be like the snotty rich kids that play on the play structures at Bridgeport with their over indulgent parents looking on. Your dad groaned at the thought and I laughed and Bear turned to see what we were talking about. His dirty face, spotted shirt, and shaggy unkept hair, of course, ruined the image. We decided it might be best to return the pants and get him some regular length cargo shorts that better go with his style.

We made a short stop at Target. We found no shorts for the Bear, but shirts for your dad. Bear was unfazed as he was too busy draping himself over the large red concrete balls in front of the store. You know how he is... lying on them and patting them in a way that can only be described as communing. I know this often times embarrasses you, but really I think most people have this reaction to them, Bear's just honest enough to give in to the urge. Once we were able to get the boy to say good-bye to his spherical friends we made the 8:00 o'clock showing of Hancock. It was ok. I imagine you might go see it with your uncles. It had a weird feel to it and was emotionally unsatisfying with some odd story holes (bad story telling or editing- it was hard to tell which). It wasn't the worst movie I've seen this summer (The Happening still holds that honored place), but it wasn't the best either. If you don't get a chance to see it, don't worry we can always rent it.

After the movie we headed home. On the way into town we were almost hit by a deer! It was the weirdest thing. We were coming down the hill when a deer jumped outta the brush along the side of the road and ran right in front of the car! Your father swerved and managed to just miss it (it had to have been within a few feet of the headlights). It was so scary! Your father thought it got nailed as it crossed into oncoming traffic, but I looked behind us and there were no stopped cars, brake lights, or squealing tires. It seems the crazy animal made it across the busy road unscathed. When I see Chris I'm going to tell him to keep his stupid signs and portents away from my new car, it's dinged up enough without deer butt in the grill.

We made it home and fell into bed. The Bear hemmed and hawed outside our room. It's ok to be an only child when you are going to the movies and don't have to share your popcorn, but it's another thing entirely when there is no big brother to keep you company in the dark. We finally got him tucked in (this required hugs and kisses from both your father and I) and so ended our first day without you. It was a fairly typical summer day I suppose, remarkable mostly in the lack of your presence.

We miss you boy. I hope you have fun. Eat many muffins with blackberry jam. Grow larger (if possible) and give our love to the family.

Love,

Mom

For Holly...

It's Back

A month or so ago Kristen and I were talking and she was wondering what Spring is like in Oregon. I told her I was thinking of writing a blog post about just that very subject and truly I was:

Spring in Oregon begins in a very schizophrenic manner, warm and lovely one day, sleeting the next, and it goes on like that for weeks (sometimes months), but then something wonderful happens... the trees blossom! And everywhere you go in our little town you get showered by pink petals, it's lovely and magical. It puts me in a romantic frame of mind and I see the lawns around town with their sudden growth spurts to seem as though they're suffering from a severe case of bed-head which, I suppose, they are. They don't look unkept, but rather shaggy and tossled, freshly woken. And everywhere you look... green! It's Oregon right? I rains 364 days a year here, it's always green. How could it not be green? But this green is different it's bright green, lime green, spring green! It's amazing...

And I was prepared to go on and on like that, but then the warmth finally settled in to stay and the pollen began to stab at my eyes again and all romantic notions fled. They ran away scared by the sound of my honking, ever dripping nose, frightened by my swollen, watery, angry eyes. NOTHING has brought relief. For a brief time I thought the spoonfuls of local honey that I was choking down three times a day was really going to see me through, a regular miracle cure, but Spring that fickle, flirty wench skipped away and the honey cure stopped working because SUMMER has arrived and man! Does she hate me.

Tuesday I have a doctor's appointment. Here's hoping the prescription pad has much mojo.

The Bull, Gardening, and Whatnot

To blog perchance to dream...

I don't really have much to blog about just now, but I feel like my poor blog has been neglected. I just keep throwing up quotes and music. Well, here are some non-interesting updates:

Mrs. Jones went outta town again and took Bobby with her. She farmed out the rest of the kids (I think she was thinking how worn around the edges I looked when she returned from Thailand), but was having a hard time placing the Bull, so I offered to take him. For four or five days there was a Bull was among the Foxes. Little tot wasn't so cocky off his own turf, in fact, he was quite easy to deal with practically a lamb (with horns). He and our cat Zed spent most of the time seeing who could invade the others personal space the most. I think Bull won, but not by much.

A few days later we went to the store and bought plant starts, dirt, seed, and planters in an effort to enjoy a bit of garden therapy this summer (difficult to do in apartment that has a deck the size of a large deck of cards). I figure we spent a hundred or so dollars on what will amount to maybe ten bucks worth of vegetables. ::shrugs:: Meh. Whatta gonna do? Upside: my deck looks fabulous... very green and leafy.

Work has kept me hopping. I have discovered the truth of what Holly told me a year or so ago: it takes just as much, if not more, time for me to prepare work for volunteers as it does for me to do the thing myself. The problem of doing everything myself of course (besides the INSANITY that would result) is that I cannot be in 5 places at once. I can't teach EVERY Sunday school class myself, though don't think I haven't tried (it wasn't pretty) and really I have no knack for the preks (preschool-kindergarten, ages 3-5).

I have discovered I can prepare prek curriculum and ready the classroom, but interact with the age group? It only takes one snotty three year old in frilly dress who likes to pout and or screech and I'm lost. The stink eye doesn't work on them 'cause somehow they know you're not going to crush them (perhaps because Mommy and Dadums can't bring themselves to punish their little darling). I can scare or joke most kids into line, but with preks I got nothing. And what's worse, they know it. They can practically smell me coming... like blood in the water.

Here comes Mrs. Fox! Hee-hee! Let's torture her! Let's not listen to anything she says and yell and shout and screech at the top of our lungs- maybe do that while standing on top of a table! If she scolds us we can pout and be horrible and when Mommy shows up we can cry! Hee-hee!

And the rest of the rug rats leer and cheer and so the Sunday goes. Seriously, this has happened to me before.

Soooo, I've been prepping curriculum for our summer volunteers, trying to figure out the summer events calendar for the junior high, work on VBS, and camp, and make it to all the meetings, teaching gigs, and extra curricular activities that go along with the job. So while I left the busy-ness that was catering busy-ness in general hasn't left me. I'd like to write more about that and whatnot, but it is time to go home. Somehow, someway I'd like to figure out where Jesus fits in among all that as I'm supposed to be a youth minister not a babysitter or activities director. You all got any epiphanies? Send 'em forth por favor.

I'm off. Gotta get home to water the plants and let my cat invade my personal space.

Fierce Mastery

Not a real blog post (sorry I've been swamped), but something that showed up in my email. Thought it was interesting:

Let’s come back for a moment to original glory, the glory of God given to us when we were created in his image. So much light could be shed on our lives if we would explore what we were meant to be before things started going wrong. What was it that we were created to do? What was our original job description?

God said, “Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.” So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them. God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule.” (Gen. 1:26–28)

And let them rule. Like a foreman runs a ranch or like a skipper runs his ship. Better still, like a king rules a kingdom, God appoints us as the governors of his domain. We were created to be the kings and queens of the earth (small k, small q). Hebrew scholar Robert Alter has looked long and hard at this passage, mining it for its riches. He says the idea of rule means “a fierce exercise of mastery.” It is active, engaged, passionate. It is fierce.

Waking the Dead, by John Eldridge

Today's Verse:

Found today's verse lurking on my desk top. Was cleaning out a few files when I ran across this verse that the Bear read at my SIL's wedding. Now it is here for your viewing enjoyment!


Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up! Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.


A real post full of thoughts and ponderings soonish- be on the look out!

More Music...

Saw Prince Caspian twice this weekend. Loved it. This song has been stuck in my head ever since:

Horn Tooting!

Ok, so the test ain't that hard, still:

You know the Bible 100%!

 

Wow! You are awesome! You are a true Biblical scholar, not just a hearer but a personal reader! The books, the characters, the events, the verses - you know it all! You are fantastic!

Ultimate Bible Quiz
Create MySpace Quizzes

It's Stuck In My Head....

Ponderings About Names and Movies

More ponderings says she. Hmmmm... can I ponder on cue? I could just rummage around the ol' noodle and throw out whatever is in there. Brace yourselves...

So yesterday Angus the Moose and Hamish (aka Bear)... ok! Wait! Before I go on with this little vignette let me explain the name game. When our children were little if Fox and I wanted to talk about them while they were in the room we used code names for them. There were the Scottish nick-names (Angus and Hamish) and there were the Italian nick-names (Primo and Segundo) and the Bruce Willis nick-names (Igg and Ook). We changed them up from time to time so the kids wouldn't figure out who we were talking about. Then along comes the blog thing and I noticed how most my friends didn't refer to their children by name (smart that) and thinking that I needed MORE code names for my children I came up with Moose and Manny.

Moose 'cause Angus McPrimo Iggface was/is growing at an alarming rate and Manny 'cause Hamish Segundook wanted so much to catch up to his large hairy sibling. Manny was soon dropped as the character in question decided he too wanted an animal nickname so Bear was soon adopted. Whew! Now normally I'd just stick with the blog nicknames I picked out, but the husband decided he needed to blog and started referring to the offspring by their ancient Scottish nicknames. In an effort not to confuse (I know right?), in an effort not to confuse I thought I'd refer to them as Angus the Moose and Hamish the Bear so those of you who read BOTH our blogs (God help the 2 of you) wouldn't get mixed up (HA!). But screw it all! It's my blog so I will refer to the tots by my nick-names. So Moose and Bear it is.

You know I just realized something... I have been referring to the husband as Fox as there are too many Matt's in my life and it's just easier to use his last name as it's what I used to refer to him as anyway (even longer story involving teepee's don't ask), so that means... I now have Fox, Moose, and Bear. Geeee-eeeez! Who does that make me? Snow White? Grizzly Adams? Pocahontas? Cue visions of me in all of those get-ups. Hysterical laughter ensues and... Whatev. Back to my story...

Moose and Bear had Thursday and Friday off for conferences. Both got glowing reports so we went to the movies as a sort of "well-done-keep-up-the-good-work" kind of reward thing. We saw Forbidden Kingdom and wow. Jet Li! Jackie Chan! Serious Kung-Fu! Totally crack-a-lacka! Jet Li did praying mantis form versus Jackie Chan's tiger claw and can I say: OH. MY. GOSH!!! I nearly cried it was so beautiful. Fun boy movie, I recommend it (cheesy 80's Karate Kid bullies and all). Anyhow, the woodland creatures and I were walking out of the theater (ok Moose and I were walking. Bear was leaping, kicking, punching, and blocking imaginary blows) when we noticed that they were selling tickets for a midnight showing of IRON MAN! What!?! Get out! When this was reported to Fox he immediately ordered us home to take naps. Woo-hoo!

Later that night we pushed a freshly woken, groggy Moose and Bear into the vehicular unit and headed back to the theater. Now a thing you need to know about my forest creatures, they are, to a man HUGE comic book geeks. Whenever a new movie comes out staring a DC or Marvel character we. must. see. it. That's just the way we roll 'round here so it went without question that we would see Iron Man, in fact, the creatures have been drooling over on-line trailers for months now, but me? Well, something you should know about me: I don't like Robert Downey Jr. Why? Couldn't really say. I just don't. Chalk it up to different strokes. So I went to the movie to hang with my men, but was indifferent to the subject matter. But I have to say, it didn't disappoint. Lots of fun effects and action, snappy dialogue that RDJ OWNED (I might actually go all fangirl now)! It was lots of fun, thoroughly enjoyable, I encourage you all to go see it on a big screen to get the full feel of the effects. We liked it so much that the creatures rented and are playing the Wii game and I'm heading out in a bit to see it again with some girl friends. So, it's not bad.

Can't get out to the movies? We rented Hot Rod the other night. I'm almost ashamed at how much I laughed at it. It has some language and so is not appropriate for all audiences and it is extremely stupid, still:



and...



and...



It's like watching my life. Lisa, Bear, and I are working on the dance moves in that last clip.

See what happens when you ask me to ponder.

Today's Favorite Quote:

My business is not to remake myself, but to make the absolute best of what God made.

-Robert Browning

New Look For Spring!

So why not go with more cheery Spring like colors? 'Cause Blogger's color palate bites. And while I'm complaining they need more template choices too, hmph!

EDIT: Ok, yeah, I went with more "Spring-y" colors. This, however, will not last long I feel. The soft green wears thin rather quickly I'm afraid, also it makes me crave Shamrock shakes.