Nerves

Drew is becoming a pain in the butt on Thursdays.  If I question him about anything that has to do with his lesson or rehearsal music (like, "Hey, are you ready?"  "Did you practice enough?"  "It sounds like you're having a little trouble with your solo.  Should you talk to your teacher?") he becomes either sullen or argumentative.  We've been butting heads about it for a few Thursdays now.  Mike said it's because Drew's nervous but doesn't know how to handle it, so he takes out his nerves on others.   Then Mike "wondered" aloud who he gets that from.  (Very funny, honey.)     

Before just about every time I do something in front of people, whether it's drama, a speech, a devotional, or whatever, I swear it's the LAST TIME.  I tell myself I'm never doing it again, because the horrible sick-with-nerves feeling isn't worth it.  Then if people (re:  Mike) try to comfort me with, "You'll be fine!" my inner honey badger comes out.  Well...not really.  But I do get snippy and just want to be left alone with my misery. 

When I was in Master Arts one of the people in my troupe handled her nerves by getting really hyper and talkative.  She also touched and hugged us.  I never said anything to her, but inwardly it drove me insane.  I wanted to be calm and focused...sort of disappear into myself...before we did a show.  She made that impossible. 

Anyway, I didn't plan to talk about any of that.  It's Thursday, though, and Drew and I clashed again.  I'm not sure if he needs to get over it or if I need to stop questioning him.  Maybe a little of both.

Hahaha...Hey!

When we went to Todd and Kellie's a couple months ago I overheard Drew, Brian, and Bryce trying to outdo each other with "Your Mama..." jokes.  In my opinion Brian won with this one:

"Your mama's so ugly they filmed Gorillas in the Mist in her shower."

Dispensational Memory

I had the weirdest, out-of-the-blue memory this morning.  When I was 16 or 17 I started questioning my church and family's belief in dispensationalism.  I wasn't at all doubting it; that's not what I mean.  I was just curious and wanted to have a better understanding.  I think it was my mom, but it could've been my grandpa, who told me to read a certain book.

So this morning I was loading the dishwasher and remembering this...kind of.  All I could really remember is that the book was written by a man named Stam.  Charles Stam?  C. Stam?  Google informed me it's Cornelius Stam.  Huh.  And the book, which I also couldn't remember the name of, is called Things That Differ.  Anyway, I read this book when I was 16 or 17 and really got it.  It made sense.  So...and here's the kinda weird part...I wrote the author a letter.  That is, I wrote Stam, who even at that time must've been ancient.  I didn't expect anything.  I just wanted to let him know that I was a teenager who appreciated what he had to say and benefited from it.  Eventually he wrote me back, telling me how much that meant to him and letting me know that he was going to put my letter in a little magazine-ish publication on dispensationalism that he put out.  Sure enough, I got one of those publications in the mail not too long after that and there my letter was.

Later, when I told people about it, I learned that I should be embarrassed.  One, because a normal kid isn't supposed to be interested in stuff like that, and people laugh at you.  And two, because Stam was a controversial figure in certain circles.  I guess he could be a pushy jerk who sometimes caused problems.  *shrug*  One time, when I was a senior in college, I got curious and went, by myself, into the archives section of my Bible college's library, where they had all of Stam's publications.  I found the one with my letter, read it again, thought I sounded pretty silly, and briefly considered making that particular magazine "disappear." (I didn't!  I put it back.) Then I guess I completely forgot about it, because this is the first I've thought of it in all these years.

I bet Stam's been dead for ages by now.

Dissection Grand Finale

Patty came over this afternoon to visit and to help Drew do a dissection.  Just so you know, Patty likes science and asked to be a part of it.  I didn't press it on her.  ("Yes, Patty, you can come over, but you're going to have to disassemble a fetal pig.  Take it or leave it.")

I have to say I'm glad to finally have the pig out of my fridge.  Several times over the last few months I've gotten curious about what leftovers were in that clear Rubbermaid container, only to find the pig looking out at me.  It was unnerving.  (I threw the container away now that we're done using it for specimen storage, by the way.  The smell of the preservative will probably never come out of the plastic. #problemshomeschoolersface)

David's House

I'm done with the strep and the meds...and now I'm sick again.  Why????????  I started feeling kinda horrible yesterday and ended up taking 2 (!) naps.  Eventually it devolved into coughing, aches, chills, and fever.  Sigh.  I don't know.  I've become one of those always sick people.

I don't have much, so I'll share a couple memories.  When Mike and I were live-in houseparents at David's House Ministries, a Christian adult foster care home, we got to know the woman who came in and did the deep cleaning a couple days a week.  Her name was Sally and I liked her a ton.  She was both a friend and a mom figure.  Anyway, Zach, who was one or two at the time, also loved her like family.  He called her Sa-Sa.  When Sally would get down on her hands and knees to clean the giant dining room floor (she insisted on doing it that way, instead of using a mop), he would climb on her back and ride her like a horse while she made her way across the floor.  And she let him!  LOL  She called him her "little buddy."  I miss her.

Another David's House memory:  One time one of our residents, a friendly mentally-disabled guy named Jeff, got a cleaning job in a hotel.  Whoever trained him there drilled into him that he was never, ever to open any door without first knocking and saying, "Housekeeping!"  Jeff learned that lesson well...too well.  For weeks after that he wouldn't pass through doors in his own home without first going through all the rigmarole.  I even saw him knock on the refrigerator once and announce "Housekeeping!" before opening it.

Backlog

I checked the camera this morning and discovered a lot of pictures.  Several of them weren't all that good, but some are nice.  In fact, Baylee took quite a few of the nice ones.  She went out into the front yard and snapped these the other day.  Spring is coming!

And here's a picture of the girls making supper the other night, BW (Before Worcestershire).

Quick

Today is kinda crazy between school and church activities, but I'll pop in and write a quick post.  (By the way,  I'm typing it with two fingers on my iPad.  Anything for my fans.)

I've been doing something insane for about a month now.  That is, I've been letting Baylee and Rachel cook one meal a week.

1. This makes a great deal more work for me.
2. This requires a huge amount of patience.

Yesterday, though, culinary disaster struck. Instead of adding one teaspoon of Worcestershire sauce like the meatloaf recipe called for, the girls added...wait for it...

one cup.

Yes.  A cup of Worchestershire sauce!  I tried to drain it, but the damage was done.  Of course, I didn't know that until after it was cooked and tasted.  It was like...have you ever read anything about how Egyptians made mummies?  There was a part of the process where the body was stuffed with and buried in a special salt called natron.  I think the meatloaf the girls made would be a good natron substitute.  It was the saltiest thing I've ever put in my mouth.  I feel preserved.

Catch Up

I've been reading a great fantasy series, which is why I've been MIA around here.  Actually, I'm rereading it.  I read it the first time in college.  I remember one Saturday locking my dorm room door and devouring one of these books in an afternoon.  I ignored knocks and generally pretended to be invisible in order to make that happen.  If you're interested, it's the Belgariad series, by David Eddings.

Let's see.  As far as news, the cat's hurt.  He was bitten, probably by another cat.  We ( and by "we" I mean Mike) cleaned out the wound.  Now we'll wait to see if it heals without the vet.

Last night I had a dream that I was taking a college class on current events.  It was the night before a big test and I realized I had no textbook to study.  I was desperately trying to glean what information I could from Mike's Wall Street Journal when I woke up.

Yesterday in church a friend of mine leaned over the pew right before the service started and whispered in my ear that a bunch of ladies were getting together that evening.

"Why?" I whispered back.

"Wine," was her one word reply.

I went.  It was fun.  There was wine and things to eat, and lots of talking and laughter.  And no drunk or tipsy people, of course.  My friends aren't lushes.  I didn't even have any wine, actually.  In my (admittedly immature) opinion, all alcohol is gross and most tastes like cough syrup.

The whole thing does kind of remind me of this, though:

Pill Explosion

Something happened last night that, honestly, I shouldn't even be telling you.  I shouldn't be telling anyone.  I should be locking it in the vault of embarrassing stories that I never speak of and leaving it in there forever.   But what the heck.

Last night I was in a little bit of a hurry, so took my antibiotic without water.  I do that with pills now and then, and it's no big deal.  I grew up with hay fever and got used to having to swallow allergy medicine at odd moments when water wasn't available.  Anyway, so I took the pill and went on with life.  A couple minutes passed and I happened to cough.  Apparently the pill hadn't gone all the way down, but was kinda stuck in my throat, and when I coughed it opened up.  You see, these pills are capsules filled with powder.  The powder came out of my mouth in a cloud, and I had about two seconds to stare at it and think, "That's weird..." before all hell broke loose.  Burning pain from the bowels of hell hit my sinuses.  (The powder had gone up my nose, but from the inside.)  Suddenly I was sneezing, coughing, my eyes were watering, my ears were plugged, I was gagging and hacking, and eventually I even threw up in the nearest receptacle...the bathtub.  Still it was like something exploded in my head and now my whole world was this burning, stinging sensation.  Eventually Mike helped me flush it all out with a netipot, and what felt like a near death experience was over.

Only me.

Stuff

Happy Valentine's Day!  I just remembered this morning that it was 19 years ago on this date that Mike proposed to me.  He talked to my parents beforehand, so everybody knew it was going to happen except me.  I was totally surprised.  That was fun.

With the strep I've been snoring.  I'm not normally a snorer (Mike has us both more than covered on that front.), but it's been bad these last few nights.  I'm snoring so much and so loudly that I'm waking my own self up.  Then I lie there, freaked out, wondering what that weird noise was.  I'm special.

Yeah, that's pretty much all I've got.

Fail

Well, the week is shaping up to be a big fail, school-wise.  Monday I was too sick to do it at all, Tuesday I managed a half day, and today was another half day.  It's not really the strep anymore; that's clearing up.  It's this reaction I'm having to the meds.  I feel...pregnant.  I swear it's like I've got morning sickness.  As long as I'm sitting still I'm fine, but if I move around too much I start feeling dizzy and nauseated.  Yesterday the smell of something made me throw up.

That's what I get for being so excited that we were exactly on track for 20 straight weeks.

Dutchiest

This afternoon I had what I think may be the single Dutchiest* conversation I've ever had in my entire life.  (And that's saying something, because I had old, proper great aunts who came straight from the Netherlands.)  It started because I called my mom to get a little sympathy for a weird reaction I'm having to the antibiotics for the strep.

"Hey, Mom, it's me."

"Hi," my mom whispered, which was strange.

"What's going on?"

"Oh, well, we have a lot of men in here right now.  I had to call an ambulance, because your dad's in excruciating pain on the bathroom floor."

"Wait...what???"

"So I have to go.  But is everything okay with you?"  Yes, my mom actually tried to make polite conversation in the middle of a crisis.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine, Mom.  What's going on???"

"Okay, good.  I don't know, but I think it's a kidney stone.  Listen, I'll call you back, okay?  Don't worry about a thing!"



1.  My mom is a saint. 
2.  My dad is going to be okay.  He went to the hospital, they gave him a lot of pain medication, and they determined that he does, in fact, have a kidney stone.  He's still there, but everything is under control.


*stoic and courteous against all odds
 

Yuck Mouth

Bad News:  I went to the doctor this morning and found out I have strep.  I knew it was more than the usual "hmm...my throat kinda hurts" when the pain woke me up last night and I could barely swallow even water.  Plus there was the way it looked...like white slime.  (Hey, you're not eating anything, are you?  LOL)  Anyway, I've got antibiotics now, and I took a long nap this afternoon.  We had to skip school today, which puts us a day behind.

Good News:  We got to skip school today!

Quick Sunday Tidbits

Last week Sunday I said I thought I was about a week away from being able to wear my "I wore this size in the Bahamas" jeans.  I was right!  I have those pants on now!  Next stop:  the "Now we're really getting somewhere" jeans size that I wore when I first started biking and when I went on a trip to Michigan.  I estimate that I'm about 4 weeks from that.

I have a sore throat.  This has been a long, soggy fall and winter, and it seems like sickness is just being passed around.  Blah.

Last night I called Mike just before I planned to go to sleep.  I thought he'd be at work, but, no, he was walking down the highway.  In the pitch dark.  At midnight.  He had run out of gas and was trying to get back to the last exit.  That was a little freaky.  Anyway, he made it and all was well. 

Bit Tired

Man, I'm dragging.  I had the Pioneer Girls sleepover last night.  I was one of the lucky leaders who didn't actually have to sleep over, but I was there until about 10 last night, then I was back again at about 7:30 this morning.  It was a fun and crazy time, as always.

At 10am I was done with that, so I brought Rachel (and Baylee and me) home.  Then Baylee had to hurry and get ready, because she had her swim lesson.  After the lesson we rushed over to the store to buy a birthday present for a friend of hers (We got the kid, a 5th grader, a $15 gift card to Starbucks.  This is probably the only state in the country where that's not weird.), rushed home so Baylee could get ready, then rushed over to the birthday party.  That's when I realized this day was officially insane.  (Baylee did have fun, though.  She got to go ice skating.)  After dropping her off I did our weekly grocery shopping, came home, put all the groceries away, and cleaned the house from top to bottom.

Where was Mike during all this?  Sleeping.  This is his weekend to work.  The managers take turns doing the weekend shift, but luckily there are several men in the rotation, so it only comes up once in awhile.  Mike told me he was in charge of about 20 acres worth of the factory for the last couple nights.

Oh, and Baylee didn't pass up to the next level in swimming this time.  Not one kid in that class passed, as a matter of fact.  When I first found out I had a strong flash of irritation with the teacher, and I spent a solid ten seconds contemplating becoming that mom.  Then I let it go. 

What's Working

I don't have much time, because I've got a Pioneer Girl sleepover to go to tonight, but I thought I'd take a few minutes to tell you what's working for me, diet-wise.

I'm doing Weight Watchers; that's not new.  What's new is the way I'm doing it.  What I figured out about myself is that I love structure, so for the last few weeks I've been completely scheduling both when and what I eat.  That is, I sit down the night before and write out every single thing that's going in my mouth the entire next day.  Then I stick to it no matter what.  Also, I eat all my meals and my one snack at certain times of the day and not before.  It seems simple and I guess it is, but you'd be surprised how well it works.  (By the way, simple doesn't always mean easy.  Sometimes it's hard.)

All my young life I was on someone else's meal schedule:  my mom's when I lived at home growing up, and then the college cafeteria's when I left home.  It wasn't until I got married and was suddenly in charge of myself that I started to gain weight.  In fact, I gained about 20 pounds within months of my wedding.  Why?  Because suddenly I was eating whatever, whenever.  It makes sense, then, that the solution is to put myself back into a structured situation.  So far, so good!  I weigh in again tomorrow morning, and I anticipate a good loss.

Pet Peeve Post

This is a pet peeve post.  Wow, that's a lot of p's.  Can I do better?  Oh, I've got it!  People, please promptly prepare for a pet peeve post.  Dang.  I'm good.

Okay, the pet peeve:

I hate when parents make a big deal over every little tumble a small child takes, so that when the kid gets older she howls and carries on over nothing. There's a girl in Pioneer Girls who I'm pretty sure "gets hurt" and cries during every gym time.  And then there's always at least one leader who fusses over her, which only makes it worse.  Argh.  It's so annoying.

A Hair Story

Last night I had a dream that I came up with the perfect illustration for a sermon or a Sunday school talk.  It had something to do with letting coins sink to the bottom of the deep end of a pool, and then swimming down to get them.  In the dream I remember thinking, "Holy cow, that's brilliant!"  Then I woke up and realized none of it made any sense at all.  Aren't dreams weird like that? 

Okay, I've got a story for you.  When I was a junior in high school I went to band camp, and at the end of the week each cabin put on a skit.  Our skit called for me to play a boy, so in order to make that believable I slicked my hair back with Vasoline.  Guess what I found out the hard way:  Vasoline and hair don't mix.  Or, actually, they do mix.  They mix so well that you'll NEVER, EVER get the Vasoline out.  Ever.  My hair sucked it up, and no amount of shampoo made the slightest dent in the problem.  I even tried bar soap and Comet, because we had them in the cabin.  Nope.  Imagine the greasiest hair possible, then times that by about a hundred.

The next day I went home from camp on the bus, and my mom picked me up in the high school parking lot.  She took one look at my poor, oily self and drove me straight to the salon.  We didn't even stop at home first.  The beautician ended up having to cut all but about an inch of my hair off all the way around.  Even then I still had to wash it with grease-cutting dishsoap three times a day for several days.

Moral:  Don't put Vasoline in your hair.

Baylee and Rachel made dinner tonight, then Rachel stayed and ate with us.  They made lasagna.

 Last night at karate Zach broke a board with a hook kick.  He got to keep the board.

A Song and Stuff

It's a little embarrassing, but I kinda like this song.  It's about someone saying, "I hope seeing me going on with my life and doing well makes you feel bad."  Granted, that's not very nice, but the tune is fun and it includes a whistle.  All the best songs involve whistles.



I think almost everyone can relate to that feeling of, "Hah!  I'm doing fine without you," even though, to be honest, I never felt that way about a romantic interest.  Before Mike I was never in a serious relationship.  I went on a few dates, and I was in a very short...I hate to say relationship.  It was more like a fling.  No, that's not even right.  That makes it sound more fun than it was.  Hmm...association!  Yes, a very short association with a great looking, but extremely dull* guy in college.  Then that guy broke up with me, I cried for one night, and I went on to have a wonderful time on a canoeing trip the very next day, all thought of him behind me.  Soon after that Mike and I started hanging out together.  The rest is history.

Gibbs caressed before he dressed.

Baylee and Rachel played Monopoly.

And I ate the best apple ever.  It's called a Lady Alice.  You need to go eat one.


*to the point where I would often ignore his buzz (my college had a buzzer system in the dorms), because I just couldn't work up the steam to go have another boring conversation with him. 

Sunday

Last night Baylee was in the bathroom alone and she got curious about Zach's electric razor.  Naturally (?!) she turned it on and held it against her head.  Not her face, her head.  The part with hair on it.  It grabbed a bunch of that hair and yanked it out, lodging it in and wrapping it around the razor mechanisms.  Afterward she came out and sheepishly handed the razor to Zach.  "Umm...I think something might be wrong with this."  He turned it on and it was like "rrrRRRRrrrr...cough...cough...rrrr..."  Anyway, Baylee's fine, Mike fixed the razor, and I'm left going, "What in the?"

I'm almost down another size in jeans!  Okay, here's the timeline:  I started out in fat pants.  Then I made it down to slightly-less-fat pants.  Out of curiosity I also tried on my this-is-the-size-I-was-in-the-Bahamas pants, and they fit...as long as I didn't breathe.  That was a couple weeks ago.  Yesterday I tried on those Bahama jeans again, and they fit much better!  I hope in another week I'll be in them.

Drew got what they call the "cast list" for The Who show.  It tells what songs they're doing, who's in the show, and what everybody's part is.  Drew's playing in 5 of the 14 songs.  The way it works is there are 3 possible guitar parts for each song (sometimes just 2):  1st or lead guitar, 2nd guitar, and 3rd guitar.  Drew is playing the 1st guitar part in The Seeker, Love Reign O'er Me, and Won't Get Fooled Again.  He's playing the 2nd part in Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere and I Can See for Miles.  Rehearsals start in about a week, but he's been working with his teacher for a few weeks now on his songs, as have the other kids in the cast.  That way when they finally get together for the first time they're not starting from scratch.   

        

Saturday

There's a building/creating game called Minecraft that the kids really like.  I don't see the big draw to be honest.  To me it seems like glorified Legos, but they're into it.  Lately Drew's been working on something, and today he unveiled it.  It's a McDonald's.  LOL  It's pretty darn good, too!

 A couple days ago Mike and I had this conversation...

Me:  Honey, you need to get more sleep.
Him:  Yeah, I know.  I just read an article in the Wall Street Journal that said not getting enough sleep can lead to diabeetus.
Me:  Did you just say diabeetus?
Him:  Yeah, I did.
Me:  Okay, Wilford Brimley.

Then we both laughed, him to the point of tears.  He was really tired.