One day down!

    With a whole four hours sleep, I woke before the alarm. Not feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, I slinked my way out of bed. Fumbling with the items on my dresser I found my glasses and placed them on my face. I'm definitely not rested. How do I know this? Besides the aches in my body screaming out to go back to bed. I'm narrating everything I'm doing, to myself. Like some book being read aloud, but in my head.
   Honestly, I'm trying stay out of the bed and not trip over myself. I'm that tired.

But I did it. Today, I exercised. On the WII. To you, my rippling and strong cored friend, it may seem foolish. But for me, over weight and under height, it's progress.
   Placing myself on the balance board so the machine can weigh me in, is quite humbling. It's a machine, and yet, I was afraid of how 'it' would respond. Don't you know it, the thing grimaced when I stepped on it. How embarrassing! Then, come to find out (thanks to my Hubby) I already had a WII ME.
  I have to admit, I forgot about her. So I pull her out of the WII crowd. She's cute and slender.
Even the machine knew the difference. 'Seems our calculations have changed.' IT SAYS.
And then the WII machine 'plumps' up my WII ME. Now that hurt!

As I write this I'm munching on Peanut M&M's. 

    There was a sense of accomplishment as I skied down the snowy slopes. (it was 97 degrees out today.)

Then onto Yoga. Repeating each event until I at least 'ranked' on the score board. I knew I was on my way to 'total' fitness.

    It did bother me that no matter how bad I did, the WII would remark 'good job'. After a while I couldn't help but murmer out loud.....'You're kidding, right? Liar'. You know frustration sets in when you start to argue with the invisible man inside the t.v.

  Regardless, I walked away with satisfaction of knowing I actually got out of the kitchen and did something about it. Even if it was for one day. ( hoping to get snowed-in tomorrow without electricity. )

 Not a bad start, I must say. I hope I hold out until the end.

Ecclesiastes 7:8
Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof: and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.

Couponing is exercise

   If you consider painting and clipping coupons a form of exercise….then I did exercise as planned. But I did not get up early, or anywhere near early. Roughly around 9 o’clock I stretched my way out of bed, literally. My feet planted firmly on the floor, yet every part of my body still on the bed, with my head resting on the pillow. I laid there thinking about all the exercise I was going to do today.

   I was going to go biking. I was going to do a little kick boxing. Possibly try and squeeze in some lunges and chin ups. While I was at it, maybe swim a couple of laps around the pool. Considering I hadn’t done any of this, I figured I could add mowing the lawn, pulling weeds, shampooing the carpets and cleaning out the cars. Who would really know?

   After all of my thoughtful exercise, I got up and went about my normal routine. Boring as it were, it is still tiring at times. 

   Trying to break routine, my ten year old and I started to paint a bookcase. The inside got painted, then the doorbell rang and off she went, outside to continue her normal routine of playing, yelling and swimming with the neighborhood children. I was a bit envious. Hmmmm. What can I do to break up my day?

   Coupons. I have plenty of coupons. I even have a binder to put them in. I could put the coupons in my binder. OK. Good deal.

So I call Ms. Jess to come over and we’ll ‘coupon’ together. Couponing. That’s what we did. Needless to say, her binder is amazing. Organized, color coordinated and huge. Three inch, three ring binder stuffed with coupons.  

   My binder is…….empty. All my coupons are in Ziploc sandwich bags. They’re categorized with colored labels. Today I will have an amazing binder as well.

   Shortly after noon we started going through our coupons. Swapping and trading coupons. She uses this and I don’t. She doesn’t eat this but I do. So we swap. Good, easy and fun. We’re having a great time. All the while, we’re talking about food.

   (How is it anything I do tends to revolve around food? If I’m not eating it, then I’m talking about it.)

By the end of her visit, she’s still very organized. Everything nice and tidy. Me? Not so much. I look down and the whole table is covered with little piles of coupons. With which, I put back in the appropriately labeled sandwich bags, place the bags in my almost amazing binder and wait for another day.

  By now, it’s time to rustle up some grub for the family. Sauté this, sprinkle with seasonings, mix in a little of that and put it over cooked thin spaghetti, Vwallah! Dinner is done!

   Now, only if I could do that with my binder.

The plan I have set for tomorrow, get up early and exercise. Think I’ll use the WII. Maybe that will be a bit more motivational for me. Indoor exercise/video game style. I hear it’s all the rage. What makes it alluring for me?

I can do this in my pajamas.

Bed late again. Setting my alarm for ‘early’.  We’ll see what tomorrow will bring.

Proverbs 27  ¹ Don't brashly announce what you're going to do tomorrow; you don't know the first thing about tomorrow.  

The Message Bible

New Chapter

  Tomorrow starts a new chapter in my life, and you, my dear friends get to read about it. 

Over the past year and a half, I have blown up. Not literally but 'mass'ively. My weight has hit a new, all time high. It's not something I'm proud of or boastful of. You know, in the way we talk about how much we've gained after Thanksgiving dinner. Like, that's impressive!

   I used to have an inner tube tummy. Now I have a swimmy ring! The kind for the pool, you blow it up and slip around your waist. But mine isn't full of air, and there's no slipping anything around my waist.

   Ok, enough of the graphics. I can complain, I can mope....I know I can because I've done both. If you recall an earlier blog, I love food.  Every time my weight would get me down, I'd turn to food. 

   Last week I went to the doctors for cholesterol/hdl/diabetes check. Before I stepped on the scale I told the nurse how much I weighted. She thought I was kidding. Nope, I wish. 

I know exactly how much I weigh, and for some odd reason, I don't look all that heavy to other people. Or so they say.

  Now is the time to get off the couch, ( or rather out of the kitchen ) get out there and start exercising!!

My hubby and I plan on 'trimming the fat' this summer. Probably should have been doing this all along. Literally, off our steaks and burgers. Maybe hold back on the 'super size' fries. Hold back on the fries altogether. 

 When I'm down about my weight, or anything else, I want specific kinds of fast food.

Funny, there's something about fast food. While eating it, I feel happy, I laugh and converse with who ever is with me. But as soon as I'm done.......I sit back, sigh and groan, wishing I had worn elastic waist pants.  

The grease and fat just sit there making me incapable of movement or conversation.

I feel disgusting.

  So, let's hope that at the crack of dawn, I'm up and ready to face this challenge. Dawn may be too early. Maybe before the heat sets in.

   I would say face this challenge head on, but it's not my head that needs to lose the weight. Although, my face is looking rather plump. I think I see a couple of chins trying to form. 

  

1 Corinthians 10:31 So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.

  1 Corinthians 3:16 Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you? 



In the light of what I eat and drink, in the way I eat and drink, I must keep these two verses close to my heart. Do I glorify God in the manner of eating? 

My goal is not to have a beautiful outward body, but to have a healthy body and healthy life style that will glorify God.

In the Palm of Love

 The other day my son was snacking on Cheese Doodles. He really likes his Doodles. He grabs one off his tray and holds it tightly in the palm of his hand. Sometimes, he’s holds onto it so tight that it forms to his palm.  But that Doodle is his and its safe in his hand. My son has a strong grip. Try and take it away, and you’re in for a fight!

  When I was in sixth grade I broke the ring finger of my right hand playing Kick Ball.  I had my mother’s birthstone ring on my ring finger. Sure enough, my finger had swollen so much and so fast I couldn’t see the band, only the Sapphire.

Needless to say, I went to the emergency room. The doctor had to find the band and cut the ring off. I was so sad, and I felt very bad. After all, it wasn’t my ring. When I left the ER, my finger wasn’t in a splint, my whole arm was in a cast. Right up to the elbow!

  On returning to school the next day, my mother had to help me get ready. I realized how careful she was with me that day. Her delicate hands, helping, without causing pain.

  At school I had to rely on others to help me. I am right handed, so writing was near impossible. At eleven years old, I found out how important my hand is to me.

Eileen, who sat next to me, had re-arranged my desk to be more efficient, easier to maneuver. She would fill in my worksheets for me and sign my name. At lunch, she unwrapped my PB&J so I could eat without difficulty.

  Years upon years later, one wonderful afternoon in March of 2009, my fiancé took my hand in his, declaring his love for me before our family and friends. And I declared my love for him. We were wed.

I’ve experienced the strength of someone who will not let go of what is his.

I’ve been ministered to in a time of need through the hands of family and friends.

Being in the hand of love is amazing.

I have also experienced the love of someone who is not ashamed or afraid to declare his love for me to the world. His love is of truth and forgiveness.

 Psalm 31:5
Into thine hand I commit my spirit: thou hast redeemed me, O LORD God of truth.

My Lord holds me dearly in His hand. I have committed myself to Him and I am His.

He holds me tight, He holds me near.

My Lord has and will continue to help me, strengthen me, heal me and protect me.

I adorn myself in His word.

In His truth, I am showered with love.

Most Precious.........reminder.

Most Precious

  This morning as my husband left for work, he turned his head to look at me and said,'I love you my most precious and beautiful wife.'
Now, you may giggle or roll your eyes at this but it was so sweet. For him to leave the house and leave me with those words.
   I'm blessed to have a husband who will delve into the woman psyche to realize that she needs to hear that she's important, and above all, precious and beautiful.
As I watched him walk to the car, I glanced in the mirror by the door. Beautiful isn't the word I would use to describe myself. Tired, worn out, ragged. Yes. Beautiful........nope.....don't see it. That's why it's so great that 'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.'
   He beholds me as beautiful. Regardless of what my present circumstances are. Regardless of the baby spit and tattered pj's I'm wearing. He doesn't care that my hair resembles Medusa, or that my eyes are stained with mascara.  I am his beautiful.
  What's more important to a woman than her value? Precious. Like a rare ruby, a diamond, gold. When you look upon something precious, there's a twinkle in your eye. You appreciate the uniqueness, rarity, the value.
  Something precious is something that has been formed over time. An oil painting that the artist took years to paint. A mural on the side of a building. A potter and his clay. Precious. Also in the eye of the beholder. I am precious to my husband.
  My Dad would call me precious. I was his precious. No one, until now, has ever called me by that nickname.
I asked my Dad why he called me precious. He answered,' Well, my daughter, when you were born I ran all the way to the hospital to see you. I couldn't wait to see you. I love you.'
  My Dad is so special to me. Not because of what he said, but because he loves me. He loved me first. I didn't have to do anything to earn his love. Didn't have to say the right thing, dress the right way or get good grades. I was born. That was enough.
  So, when my husband left me with those words this morning, I knew I married the right man. God gave him to me, I didn't do anything to earn him. God too thinks I'm beautiful and precious. He loved me before I was formed.
   If you find that you're not good enough, you think you're not beautiful or precious, look in the mirror. It's not what you see that makes you beautiful..........it's who loves you that makes you beautiful and precious.
  God loves you. Therefore you are a rare gem that twinkles when He looks at you. When God thinks of you He smiles.
  You are His most beautiful and precious.

Dad

 Father's Day is coming up. I don't know what your relationship is, or was, with your Dad, but I've thought a lot about my Dads. Yes. Dads. Plural. Like most homes today, I came from a split family. Some families have one parent, and some families have two sets of parents. I had two sets. This did mean, however, two birthdays, two Christmas', two bedrooms. Pretty much two of everything, including two sets of rules and lifestyles. I'll go into these topics another time. Right now, I want to talk about my Dads.
  Both of my Dads have a lot in common, for one, me. Having to put up with me, deal with me, tend to me, feed me, clothe me, listen to me complain, me me me me. Besides that, the are both French, they were raised in the same neighborhood and they were the best of friends. Both are stubborn and yes, they both were married to my Mom.
   The differences in my Dads is their approach to things. One Dad asks a lot of questions. Why? What? How come? The other Dad has adopted the Monkey See Monkey Do theory. See no evil, Speak no evil, Hear no evil. One inquired about everything possible, the other felt it's better to leave things alone. Don't stir up trouble.
  
I love both my Dads. They both raised me, they both have taken care of me and I have learned a lot from both of them. I'm proud to call them DAD. With different ways of dealing with things, different views on life and different lifestyles, they have both taught me the same things.
  First, when I say different lifestyles I mean this.......
  One smokes, one doesn't. One will have a drink every once in a while, the other won't. One has animals the other doesn't. One household tends to be a bit noisier than the other. One plays video games, the other, not so much. One Dad likes popcorn, the other Dad likes ice cream.
  Second, they both love movies, I love movies. Action movies. I get this from both Dads.
  What I have realized is that Dad 1 and Dad 2 have always worked hard. Most of my life they have had more than one job at a time. Providing for the family has always been top priority. Making sure that you have what you need, not necessarily what you want, but definitely what you need.
Selflessness is a characteristic that they share. When there is something to be done, they do it. Not after this program, or after dinner. They get the job done pronto. Their needs always came after the needs of their families. Sacrifice seemed to come easily for them. But sacrifice is hard, mixed with bittersweet results.
    As a parent, I can look back and see the catch 22 of being a Dad. Providing means sacrificing. There were no weekend fishing trips where they could just sit around and relax hoping to catch the 'big one'. They didn't pack the family up and fly to Disneyland over summer vacation. Let's face it, they didn't get vacation. There was work to do all year round. If they had a week off from one job, they still had to work the second job.
 Their vacation was a moment here and there. A day to steal away and do something fun. It didn't happen often. But when it did, it was a memorable day. 

   I learned to laugh from my Dads. When we did get to spend time together, it wasn't about instruction, it wasn't about discipline (directly anyways.), it was about life. Spending time, not quantity but quality time together.
   Sometimes I would help my Step-Dad with work he brought home. This was fun, getting to do what Daddy does. Sharing in this experience of being a part of his workday. We would sit at the kitchen table making hinges, talking about anything that came to us. These moments were rare and meaningful.
   Another special time for me was driving with my Dad-Dad.  We would spend this time talking. I don't know what we would talk about, but I looked forward to being in the car with him. Just him and I, alone, talking.
    Watching movies is another thing I really liked. We liked the same movies. Action. Bruce Willis, Clint Eastwood, action packed, special effects movies.
   
    What I learned mostly from both Dads is to listen. Be slow to speak and quick to listen. You learn a lot from listening. Especially when a child is talking to you, giving your full undivided attention is highly important to a child. I always felt like they were interested in what I had to say. Of course, I'm sure most of the time I spoke non-sense. It didn't matter, they listened.
    I learned how to be strong and prioritize. What is important and beneficial should come first. Food, clothing shelter. Yup, those are all important.
     My Dad-Dad is a Marine. Order is important also. I organize things all the time. Trying to find the most effective way to have things. Like my sock draw, or kitchen cabinets. Things have to be in order and they have to make sense.
   My Dad-Dad also organizes his food. I'm talking the food on his plate. Green Beans are lined up according to height. He'll cut his meat up into bite sized pieces and line them up also. When everything is in order, he'll start to eat. It's quite funny, but I must admit, I do it too. When my Dad-Dad works on a project, his tools are lined up by his side. Everything is laid out and ready to use. He even reads the instructions!
  As for my Step-Dad and I, we look at the pictures. A goes here, and BHMMMM, what's this piece? L? I didn't see an L in the diagram. Just stick L in a draw for now, we really don't need it.
  My Step-Dad would wake us up at four in the morning. 'Get your bathing suits on, we're going to the beach.'  We'd throw on our suits and pack a cooler and go. Hopefully someone remembered the sunscreen.
    Not my Dad-Dad. 'Ok, Saturday we'll get up at six am to leave for the beach. Friday night let's pack up the truck.' He would have the directions written out, first aid kit ready and a plan for the day.
  
Like I said, they are the same but so different. Oh yeah, both their names are the same........Paul. That's why I say Step-Dad and Dad-Dad.

    I am more of a planner. I like order. I like knowing what's going to happen, what comes next. It's safe and comforting. But then, sometimes I like to be spontaneous. Just get up and go, make a last minute decision. It's fun and exciting.
      I loved it when my Step-Dad would decide we were going to the drive-in to catch a movie. After dinner he'd announce, 'Let's go to the drive-in.' It was fun. My brother and I would put on our p.j's, grab our pillows and blankets and get in the Pinto Wagon. When we got there, we'd eat hamburgers and fries. So what if we just had dinner, this is part of the fun! Eating food from aluminum foil wraps. It couldn't get any better than this!
   I like to plan things out, have everything in order, like my Dad-Dad.
But I don't tell the kids until the last minute, like my Step-Dad.
SO, I have it all planned and I'm comfortable with it. Then I spring it on the kids and they're all excited and eager for this 'last minute' adventure.

I love them for their dedication, for their sacrifice, for their love. I appreciate all they have taught me, all that they have shared. Being a Dad is hard work.

Anyone can be a Father..........but it takes someone really special to be a Dad.
I am doubly blessed to say that I have two super duper wonderful Dads.
I love you both with all of my heart!!

Happy Father's Day.
  

What was I hiding from?

When I was a little girl I would hide in the car. It wasn't the best place to hide, but I felt safe. I would bring 'the book of the week' and sit in the passenger seat and read. Literally, getting lost in a book.  I started doing this when I was about eight years old. 
  We had moved from the house across from my Grandma's to a house far away. ( it was a thirty minute drive.) for an eight year old, that's quite a ways. The house across from my Grandma's was white. I'll call it the white house.
  It seemed that all my Aunts and Uncles lived close to the white house. There was always a cookout going on, family was always around. My cousins, neighborhood kids. We would play basketball in Grandma's driveway. She had a grapevine, a volleyball net, there was a playground with a swing set and huge stone animals we could climb. It was great.
  When I was eight, we moved to a little red house. Across the street was the school I would be going to for third grade. I would, from this day forward, get myself up in the morning and go to school. My Step-Dad would already be gone for work and my Mom might be up, most of the time she wasn't awake.
   It's ironic how the smallest changes can make the biggest impact on your life. This was a turning point for me. This was the year Santa Claus died. There's no Toothfairy. The Easter Bunny doesn't lay eggs and Halloween became scary.
   My Step-Dad worked three jobs while my Mom stayed home 'taking care' of us kids. I hardly saw my Step-Dad unless I was up early in the morning. He worked really hard to provide for us. He still works hard to this day. My Mom kept the house cleaned and did laundry. When my Step-Dad would come home from work, dinner was always on the table.
  Most meals ended in an argument. Mom wasn't happy about one thing or another. Dad couldn't do anything right, from wipe his feet on the throw rug to washing his hands to eating too fast. Always something. This is when my hiding out in the car started. When Dad would leave for his next job, Mom's complaining didn't stop. Now my brother and I couldn't do anything right. Not good enough. Not the way she would do it. She'd have to do 'whatever' over the right way. So I would sit in the car and get lost in a book. I'd be out of Moms hair and not have to hear all the horrible things about my Dad, brother or myself.
  There were magnets on the fridge. 'If you want it done right, do it yourself'.....'First rule: Mom is always right. Second Rule: If Mom is wrong, refer back to rule 1.' ...'If Mom's not happy, NO ONE is happy.'
Funny how these 'cute' magnets reflected the truth in our house. ( to this day, I abhor magnets with sayings!)
The fridge was covered with them. One time I counted 76  magnets!
   By the time I reached High School I was over weight. Being barely five feet tall, I fit into a size ten pant. I weighed one hundred and twenty-seven pounds. I not only hid in the car and read, I ate. A lot. Whatever you didn't finish, I would. No plate left the table with food on it. Burger King became my best friend.
   I tried to be part of school activities. I got good grades and hardly ever got into trouble. When I did get into trouble, the whole world would know about it. Except my Step-Dad. He wasn't allowed to know anything growing up. Things were kept from him because 'he wouldn't understand.' mom would say. Looking back, it was more like Mom wanted control, the last word.
  Theatre was my favorite activity and Science was my favorite class. I was better at Math and English, but I enjoyed Science.
  My parents came to one play in all four years of school. Only because I begged and pleaded and promised to be better. Better? A better child.  Better at school. Better at being a daughter. Better at being invisible.
  What followed was wounding. Not only did I not measure up, I was fat. I only say this because I heard it day in and day out. And the only thing I could do to make myself  feel better, was eat. I would eat at two in the morning. I'd eat when no one was home. I'd finish my friends lunches at school.
  I wouldn't have a bowl of Lucky Charms in the morning, I'd sit in the living room, watching cartoons, with the whole box and a bowl of milk. I ate, watched cartoons or anything that would make me laugh, and read. That was my escape.
   I didn't know how to deal with conflict. I hid. I ate. I laughed. This didn't help me out when I became an adult. When one of my Grandmothers passed away, I cracked jokes. I didn't know how to show my true feelings about death, or about life.
   I remember the first time my first husband raised his voice to me. I shut down. I didn't talk for days. Couldn't look him in the eye. I went about my business doing my wifely duties without a word. This was my protection. Become invisible and don't upset anyone. I learned this early on in life.

  I neutralized myself by putting up protective, defensive walls warning others to keep their distance. Such a long and lonely life. Not allowing myself to be me for fear of rejection, disappointment. This happens to too many of us. And yet we deem this as normal.
 
  I realize that my mother's rejections and objections of me were stemmed from a wounded life of her own. Being like her mother was the best reward she ever received. So, when I wasn't like my mom, it was I who was rejecting her. And this causes a downward spiral for any woman in this situation.
  Wounds become scars when they're not tended to. I needed help. I needed a loving, caring person to intervene and help me become the person I am meant to be. Years later, I found just the one.

 Ladies, you are the bride of Christ... and the bride of Christ is a warring bride. The hardest person to fight for is  yourself. Who is it that we're trying to please? Christ knows who you are......you are his. He knows of your shortcomings, your failings. He also knows of your beauty. Beauty given to you by God, beauty that isn't just on the outside but within. We, too are created in the image of God. God wants love and romance as much as we do. Wanting love and romance is not a weakness. Wanting to please the ones you love is not weak. It is, at times, impossible.
    God longs to please us, He sent His son to die for us because we can not save ourselves. Is that not because He loves us? He loves us unconditionally.
  Instead of ridicule, shame and rejection, Christ stretched forth his hands in love. He waits for us to accept Him so he can clothe us in righteousness and beauty.  HE waits for us to ACCEPT Him! That's powerful.
That's humbling.
  With all of the disappointments in my life, the wounds to my heart and ego, the tears and rejections, Christ waits for me. He waits for me to accept Him so that He can make me whole and new again. He won't force me to change, He won't call me nasty names or turn away from me when I need Him most.

Psalm 27:10
When my father and my mother forsake me, then the LORD will take me up.
Psalm 115:11
Ye that fear the LORD, trust in the LORD: he is their help and their shield.

The word that saves is right here,
      as near as the tongue in your mouth,
      as close as the heart in your chest.
You're not "doing" anything; you're simply calling out to God, trusting him to do it for you. That's salvation. With your whole being you embrace God setting things right.

The One who will not fail me, who loves me and wants what's best for me. The One who lifts me up rather than tears me down. Christ is the One.

Romans 10:9
That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.




 
   
  

He gives me strength

   When I was a child I would get hurt. Playing on the playground, riding my bike, climbing a tree or making mud pies. We all remember making mud pies, right? It didn't matter what I was doing, I would get hurt. One time while I was delivering newspapers, the front tire of my bike skid in a patch of dirt. The front wheel totally spun around.......which means my handlebars rotated also. This wouldn't have been so bad, except there wasn't a protective covering on the handlebars. Just the metal pipe with the big hole in the middle. Wouldn't you know it, the front wheel turned, I sped out and fell. Falling isn't so bad, but it was the metal pipe/handlebar that made it even worse. It stuck me right in the throat. I swear if I were a boy and had an Adams Apple, it would have gotten lodged! Needles to say, I had a ring mark smack dab in the middle of my neck.
  I was by myself. I remember it hurt, I thought I was gushing blood from my neck. Wiping my hand across my neck I found I was not bleeding. Swallowing was difficult. So I picked myself up and finished the paper route. I was by myself, no one around, with a job to finish. And I finished it. When I was done, there was no one to applaud me, pat me on the back, tell me I did a good job. No one was proud of me for dusting the dirt off and continuing on. No one cared.
   There was a job that had to be done, and I was the one to do it. So I did. Come to think about it, I was doing this for a friend who was sick. Again..........no kudos to me.  But somewhere deep down I gained strength from this. Encouragement is good but not always necessary.
   Now, if no one is there to pat me on the back, I know God is there. He's quiet and steadfast. He encourages me without a word. He is my strength. With God, when I fall, I know that He's there to help me up again. Not just falling physically, but mentally, emotionally.
   He sees me through to the end, and when it is all said and done, He comforts me.
I am not alone.......I never was.

  
God has moved into the neighborhood, making his home with men and women! They're his people, he's their God. He'll wipe every tear from their eyes. Death is gone for good—tears gone, crying gone, pain gone—all the first order of things gone." The Enthroned continued, "Look! I'm making everything new. Write it all down—each word dependable and accurate." Revelation 21:4 the Message Bible.

Pure Drama

   I just got done watching 'Black Swan' with my Hubby. Having to admit that I am a Natalie Portman fan, this movie threw me off guard quite a bit. Honestly, I saw way too much of her body to do anyone any good. She's attractive and all, but the image I have of her  I don't want to see naked!
Nightmares are going to haunt me all night now.
She definitely needs a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese and extra pickles!
   Natalie Portman.......played in V for Vendetta. Great movie. Love story/ action/ drama. Really good.
Then there's Mr. Magorium's Emporium. This is the role that I see Natalie Portman in. This is the image of her that I like! Sweet, innocent girl with a lot of talent that second guesses herself. Probably because I don't have a lot of talent........that means my first guess is always right. I suck!
   Might I add that the girl on girl scene in the movie was a bit awkward. Come on now, we're talking Natalie Portman here, not Christina Applegate. With my spouse next to me, I would've been more comfortable with a tampon stuck up my nose! Still, I'm not sure if Ms. Portman was enjoying her sexual encounter or was she in pain. One thing's for sure, she's one messed up chic. In the movie, that is.

   Honestly it was a very unpredictable movie. Again, quite messed up. Most of the time you're wondering if she actually did this or that. Was she imagining it? Was it her? Was it her over bearing mother? Also a psycho if you ask me. The whole movie revolves around perfection. I will say, it was perfectly played out.
  After a while, you start to feel Natalie's pain, frustration, anger, neglect. You feel her sorrow, worry. You want to slap her mother and kick the understudy. The one thing you don't feel in this movie is joy. Nope. If you're wanting something fuzzy and feel good, rent Yogi Bear. Black Swan isn't fuzzy.

If you watch it, and you like the complete DRAMA of this film, I have a suggestion for you. There's a French movie with Audrey Tautou.........it's called,'He Loves Me He Loves Me Not'.
Warning, it has subtitles. But it's a movie you won't forget. Honest!

  Good night.

Expect the unexpected

Routine. The same old story. Day in and day out.
   Everyday seems to be a repeat of the day before. It's funny how we fall into a routine. Maybe there are some small differences but basically each day is like the last. There's a certain comfort that comes from a routine. No surprises, no catastrophes.
   Then BAMM! Something different. That doesn't mean it's good or bad, it's just different. Sometimes it's a four letter word and sometimes it's the icing on the cake. And sometimes it takes time to figure out which one it is. This is one of those times.
   It happened so quick, and so naturally, I'm not sure if it is a blessing or a pain. Only time will tell.
   I had just picked my daughter up from the bus stop. It's a gorgeous day out, the temperature was in the low 90's with very little humidity. I forgot what we were talking about, but ahead of us was a line of traffic. Very unusual for this area of town.
   All of a sudden I saw something! A small head popped out from the tall grass and disappeared. My heart stopped. A puppy!
  Before I knew it I told my daughter to get out of the car and get that thing. My precise words. "Get that thing!" Without hesitation my daughter got out of the passenger seat and knelt on the edge of the tall grass. I had my hazards on so on coming traffic would take caution.
  When she got back in the car, she had a puppy in her arms. This thing is no bigger than a rolled up beach towel. Honest! The poor thing was shaking. There was no collar around the pup's neck.
  We decided to turn the car around and circle the neighborhoods to try to find her home.
   Driving slowly up and down the streets, looking in each driveway and back yard for an indication of this pups home, no luck. After forty minutes of driving, we decided to go home.
  The puppy was all comfortable laying on my daughters lap. It is a girl. She looks like a miniature German Shephard , Pug, Chihuahua, Jack Russel mix. I know.......odd combination. She has the two moles on the side of her face like a Shephard, the curly tail like a Pug, eyes like a Chihuahua and hair like a Jack Russell.
Funny things happen to a scared pup. For one, car sickness. The poor thing yammied four times. On my daughter. Ewww!
 My daughter was laughing about it, but I  was feeling qweezy. The smell was so-o bad. Good thing it was nice out, I rolled down all the windows.
  When we got home I posted a 'lost puppy' alert on Craigslist. It's been two days now and she's still here. The kids have decided to name her Ginger. It fits her perfectly. She's house trained and well mannered.
It looks like we have a dog. Unexpected indeed. Why did I react so quickly to 'grab that thing'?
   Funny. Life had become routine. Comfortable. I had a rhythm to my day, structure. Throw one little pup into the mix and I'm lost. How am I gonna get things done? When am I gonna get things done? Where does she sleep? Who's gonna walk her?
   All these questions didn't last long. Ginger has adopted my daughter, the one who took her off the street. Ginger sleeps with her, sits by her side. When she leaves the house, Ginger whimpers. The first day, Ginger wouldn't eat UNLESS my daughter held her and fed her. Spoiled already!
  Today, Ginger fills a gap that I didn't know was present. Ginger fits our family. And if she's a stray, then I'm glad we can be her family. Having Ginger, for the short time she's been with us, feels natural. Like she's always been here.
  Expect the unexpected. There just may be a blessing in disguise.

Poor Jack

There's a man that lives in the neighborhood. I don't know his name, but I certainly can't call him a gentleman. He either has a boy named Jack or a dog. I'm going for dog here. 

  For as long as I was outside, I could hear him scolding Jack. Bad boy Jack. I'm gonna kick your a--, Jack. Get over here Jack. You're such a bad boy Jack. That does it Jack, you're gonna get it. And on and on and on. 

  I don't know jack about this man or Jack, but I do know my blood was starting to boil. Poor Jack.  He didn't want to come in. And who could blame him, boy or dog, when you're constantly being threatened. 

  If I were Jack, I wouldn't come back either. 

  I tried to spy between the trees at the upset man. But I couldn't see anything. Not even Jack. 

  As I went in to take my shower, I found myself talking to this man in my head. (you've done it. Don't lie) I was asking him if he'd take $50. for the dog.(again, I believe Jack is a dog) Trying to convince him that he'd be $50 richer with one less problem on his hands.

  Of course the schmuck tried to get $100.00 out of me. But I'm too quick. Tallying up the amount of dog food Jack would eat in a month, the Vet. bills for routine check ups, bathing and daily walks.......I assured him he was making out in the end. If he takes the $50., and gives Jack to me, then he'd be saving himself a lot of money and stress in the long run. 

  Of course he hesitated, asking me if I'd treat him right. (Oh so much better that you are mister!) I nodded and said,' of course. definitely!'  He finally gave in.

  So I bound home with my new pal, Jack. Give him a bath and say to him,' You're such a Good Boy Jack.' He licks my face and we play in the backyard. Frisbee. All dogs love to play Frisbee. He's such a good boy.

Jack's very grateful to be out of the hands of the wicked, mean old man. Who probably blew the $50.00 on some cheap beer. Who cares, I have Jack. And all is well with the world again, thanks to me. :)

My shower is done. Fairytale is over. I get out, dry off and go back to the daily grind of Mommydom.

I did not offer the mean old man $50.00. I did not rescue Jack. For all I know, Jack could be this mans pet tarantula. In this case, he can keep Jack, I keep my $50.00 and we go about our business. 

  I'm confident, if Jack is a hairy spider, he'll bite the mean old man in the butt one day. 

Why? Because he can.