I'm published!

You've seen these before, but see the reprint on my new favorite blog.

I Am

I haven't heard Nicole Nordeman sing her own song, but a lady sang "I Am" at church yesterday. I loved the lyrics and want to remember them, to pray them. So I'll put them here.

Pencil marks on a wall, I wasn’t always this tall
You scattered some monsters from beneath my bed.
You watched my team win, and watched my team lose
Watched when my bycicle went down again.

When I was weak, unable to speak,
still I could call you by name
And I said Elbow Healer, Super Hero, come if you can.
You said, I am.

Only sixteen, life is so mean
What kind of curfew is at 10 pm?
You saw my mistakes and watched my heart break
Heard when I swore I’d never love again

When I was weak, unable to speak,
still I could call you by name
And I said Heartache Healer, Secret keeper, be my best Friend
You said, I am.

You saw me wear white by pale candle light
I said ‘forever’ to what lies ahead
Two kids and a dream, with kids that can scream
Too much it might seem when it is at 2 am.

When I am weak, unable to speak
still I will call you by name
Oh, Shepherd, Savior, Pasture Maker, Hold on to my hand.
You say, I am.

The winds of change and circumstance
Blow in and all around us
So we find a foothold that’s familiar.
And bless the moments that we feel you nearer.

When life had begun, I was woven and spun
You let the angels dance around the throne.
Who can say when, but they’ll dance again
When I am free and finally headed home

I will be weak, unable to speak
Still I will call you by name
Creator, Maker, Life Sustainer
Comforter, Healer, My Redeemer
Lord and King, Beginning and End
I am. I am.

Don't mention this post to Keith... ever.

Saturday morning, I took a long hot shower. It was great. Except the tub wouldn't drain. I blamed it on the fact that Keith bathed Dodger Friday night.
Keith was on a shoot, so I plunged and plunged and plunged.
Keith came home and plunged.
And then he dumped a gallon of turbo Drano down the drain.
Then we left for a party, both a little agitated by the thought of coming home to six inches of standing, dirty, drano water in the tub.
On the way home, we bought a snake.
Keith spent 30 minutes and got no more than 8 inches down the drain.
He examined the options - could we open pipes in the basement and remove the blockage?
At this point, it's important to point out that 15 hours later, the water hasn't drained AT ALL except when we plunged. This is more than a hair issue, I think...
Back to the pipes - they're glued closed. Crazy. (And stupid)
We went to bed, really agitated by the standing water.
And dirty.
And resenting the whole homeownership thing as we spent all last weekend fixing the washing machine.
So we woke up, went to church, and showered and Keith's parents' house (GREAT day with Lane, by the way - pictures to follow).
On our way home, Keith called my dad for advice. They started plotting how to saw the pipe downstairs, rebuild the plumbing, "so that it's right."
But we have kind of a busy week, so Keith vowed to give the snake one more shot and then just call a plumber.
So while I was rocking out to Guitar Hero III (I might be addicted), Keith worked the snake again. "I'm prepared to be disappointed," he said going in, with a resigned expression.
He came out ten minutes later.

So??

"We won't speak of this to anyone. Ever."

What?

"The plug was pulled. I flipped the switch and the tub drained like a champ!"

At least it wasn't the plumber who told us....

Is it true??

Lane arrives tomorrow!!! You can expect oodles of pictures of this little cherub 12 months older in the coming week!

creepy

In my eternal quest for internet comprehension, I installed a stat counter on my blog.
I might uninstall it.
It creeps me out a little. And makes me insecure.
Because really I just write fun little things that I used to e-mail to Meghan, so usually I just write like I'm writing to her because well, she makes up 25% of my readership. Or so I thought.
I forget that the whole world can see my blog.
And when I remember, I manage convince myself that no one would ever look for me.
I didn't guess that someone from Texas would find me by googling "papa johns ssn"
Why would anyone ever google that and then read this entry?
It's weird.
But then again, I kind of like it.
And let's be honest - that's the creepiest thing yet.

I live in Maybury

Last week, Holland hosted the annual parade of lights.
I missed it because I got stood up. That was okay with me - it was 20 degrees that night, without the wind chill.

But when I heard the Sinter Klaas parade was happening on Friday night, I thought - yes! A rerun!

I invited my parents to join Keith and me.
We bundled up in many layers.
We trekked downtown.
We found a parking spot.
We stood on the street.
The parade started right at 7pm.
It ended at 7:05pm.

The parade consisted of three singing groups and Santa. Old school Santa. On a horse.
Read about it and see pictures here.
It's a big time Dutch tradition. Who knew? I just thought it was a big Christmas parade.

The great part is, I recognized 4 people in a 5 minute parade.
Needless to say, my parents think I'm terribly popular.

Note to self - next year, catch the parade of lights instead.

I thought they were FRUIT of the loom

There's been a lot of Fruit Guys commercials lately.
Every time we see one, Keith and I get flustered by the brownish guy.
I mean - why are they the fruit guys, and there's TWO sets of grapes, and one... fig? Artichoke?
Well, I just have to say thank goodness for the internet.
He's a leaf?!

Get out.

I hate these commercials because they involve grown men dressed as fruit. And not just fruit - redundant fruit. Two grapes?!
But I hate them even more because they remind me of the worst Halloween costume ever.

cue flashback...
My friend Alissa was beautiful. She had long hair and freckles. She lived in a yuppy neighborhood that handed out real sized candy bars on Halloween. We went trick or treating there. She had the sweetest Pippi Longstocking get-up you can imagine. And it was all home made - she had pipe in her pigtail braids. It was hot. Everyone oohed and ahhed all over her that year.

And I just got a patronizing "And what are you?!"
Ooh, that would piss me off. I mean come ON! Was I NOT carrying a microphone? Puh-leez. And my face was painted purple.
Clearly I was a California Raisin.
Nevermind that my head... um... covering... was a cluster of grapes.
I don't really know why my mom let me wear a grape mask when I was trying to be a raisin, but in my 7 year old mind, it was clear as a bell.
It was the last year I ever went trick or treating.

And after all this, I'm feeling a bit convicted about talking so much smack about the leaf guy. I'm sure it all makes sense in the depths of a marketing plan somewhere. And the fact that the rest of us just don't understand makes me want to reach out and hug the ugly little leaf guy and offer him a Hershey bar.

Full size, of course.

Who knew?

Ikea actually has extensive options for kitchens.
I'm officially asking Santa for Lidingo.

oh no you di-uhnt!

I'm living into the title of this blog today.
Brace yourself.

I have files. Lots of them. 5.5 years worth actually. They're important - to me, to the company. They fill 6 boxes. This is your cue to ask: why would you keep them in boxes and not a filing cabinet?

I work for a technology company. Paper files get no respect. I sit in a hallway. I have enough room to keep active files, but not archives. That's okay. I don't need to be close to them or anything, I just need to know where they are and have access to them. All of them. At any time. (Because I need control - there, I said it).

I keep them in the corner office.

New guy hasn't said anything about sharing his office with my files - not even a "wow - you're organized - I love sitting so close to your alphabetization."

Today I sat and watched other guy carry six bankers boxes past my desk, in the hallway.

"Where are you going with those?"
"Away."
"What's in the boxes?"
"I don't know."
"Where'd they come from?"
"Corner office. New guy needs the cabinet in there, so I emptied it."

So now I get to unpack boxes and find room for them in my hallway and I'm just glad it's Friday. Grr.

Happy Anniversary to Us! (belated...)

I found this entry in my archives - I never posted it. It's from June 26th.
It's still relevant.



I realize I'm paying homage to my marriage a bit prematurely - the ol' anniversary isn't until Monday. But they're inducing my sister's labor tomorrow. So I'll have more important things to say in the next 48 hours or so. (Or for Jen's sake, 24 hours or so).

In the meanwhile, I just have to say that there are about a million reasons why I love my husband. Here are a few.

• He makes me laugh.
• He's strong.
• He's gentle.
• He knows things he has no right knowing. Like the fact that you're not supposed to lay a refrigerator on its back. And tool stuff and handy stuff I can't even begin to describe.
• He calls me baby and I don't feel demeaned.
• He usually smells good.
• He's really very handsome.
• I have honestly never met anyone who dislikes him.
  
• He can carry the whole load of groceries in one trip.
• He vacuums because it makes me sneeze.
• He takes me camping and we wear dorky head gear (see above) and laugh a lot.
• He takes me out of my comfort zone and I still feel safe.
• In the winter, he goes to bed first and warms up my side.
• He makes me feel beautiful.
• He has patience for my weaknesses.
  
• He makes me proud.
  
• He has crazy adventurous stories about growing up in the Philippines.
• He doesn't watch football. Or golf.
• Sometimes I can't tell where he ends and I begin.
  
• He still has friends from high school. I think that says a lot about a person.
• He calls his dad "daddy." And he has tattoos. I think the word I'm looking for here is well-rounded.
• He thinks I'm the best cook ever.
• He loves God more than me.
• He makes 2 years of marriage feel like an instant.
  

I'm to the point now where I can't imagine not being married. Where would I ever spend all this mushy energy?!

Sometimes I need to ask myself

Convicted? Or stubborn?

Eager? Or impatient?

Right? Or just a different kind of wrong?

Objective? Or apathetic?

Safe? Or self-centered?

Funny? Or mean?

Driven? Or greedy?

Content? Or Happy.

Before

And After

You can't see them, but there are ornaments in the trees. And I'm working on the wreaths...
Now we just need snow!

my list

- thank you for the first sip of coffee, and the couch on which I taste it, and the Bible over which I drink it, and the dark in which I savor it and the house in which it brews.
- thank you for down comforters and fuzzy slippers.
- thank you for Keith.
- thank you for in-laws that feel like blood.
- thank you for a family that communicates.
- thank you for a roof and a yard and a mortgage and a job to pay for it.
- thank you for a belly that's too round with "blessings."
- thank you for my friends and for laughter and for trust and for consistency.
- thank you for memory.
- thank you for sidewalk chalk, basketball hoops, and wii.
- thank you for the flavor mint.
- thank you for leaves that crunch and snow that silences.
- thank you for mittens and kittens and puppies.
- thank you for music.
- thank you for forgiveness.
- thank you for my care group.
- thank you for Ogre Sized Peanut Butter M&M's
- thank you for that moment at the end of the night, when the kitchen lights are dim and my spirit is settled, and my wine glass is full.
- thank you for loving me and hearing me and leading me.

the biggest of my peeve's

I am often called upon to proofread at work.
Websites, package copy, video graphics, you name it - I'm supposed to know how to spell it. And punctuate it. (And they say I'm not using my degree...)
BY FAR the biggest offense in this office is the abuse of apostrophes.
I've been giving this lesson for FIVE YEARS!!
Some would say I'm maybe a little hypersensitive about apostrophes, but I just can't understand why it's so hard to understand. Even if it's counterintuitive to you, the rule isn't difficult to remember... And a careless mistake here and there is okay. But why...WHY do you ALWAYS have to insert an apostrophe? Sometimes they just need a break!

So there we were...
On a peaceful, relaxing weekend...
I couldn't help but be a little distracted...

What's NOT to be thankful for?

I got it good.

Last Sunday, Keith and I had the privilege of sponsoring Lily's baptism. I'd pray for my niece whether I was her godmother or not. But the honor of standing in front of my "home" church and committing to do so is a pretty big deal in my book.










This weekend, we stole away for a little R&R... in a heart shaped hot tub :)


I have friends who argue over who's turn it is to dog sit.
I have a husband who makes me laugh just by doing what comes naturally.

We go to a church that makes me weep.
Tears that respond to children making confession of faith, racially mixed parents adopting yet another race's child, worship leaders who sing with my soul. Sermons that could be personal letters addressed to me.

Then we get home... to our house... the house that we own...that's still cool, even when you spend all day raking...


And as soon as we spend more than 10 minutes outside, there is a neighborhood full of kids playing in our yard.


And at the end of it all, the whole family heaps on the couch. At the moment, I'm not sure which one is snoring the loudest.


But my heart is still and glad. And oh so thankful.

Thank you Mr. Shatner

I just had my first successful bid on Priceline and I must say... I feel like a WINNER!
I'm not the traveler, my boss is. And I didn't save any money, my boss did.
But it really is the little things that make my day.
And my day is officially made. I feel great!




(until I think about it for too long and then I feel like a real loser.)

"circle of life" or "justice" (depending on my stage of life)

I had dinner with a dear friend last night.
While we were visiting, her husband called to report that he was locked out of the house.
I gave my dear friend a pretty hard time about that.
I have never known anyone to get locked out of things more than her... and now her husband.
But I paid for it.

Scene: morning, exterior
Keith: "You have keys?"
Sara: "oh, you're kidding."

The good news is we got in the house pretty quickly - like in 3 minutes.
The bad news is we got in the house pretty quickly.
I see a weekend project of installing glass block basement windows in our near future...

another lesson from Israel... sort of

Fact:
Traveling to cool places for work with your husband is not romantic.

Fact:
Traveling for work with your husband inevitably leads to some sort of sex joke from colleagues that definitely qualifies as sexual harassment, but somehow it's okay because they're talking about your husband. That pisses me off.

Fact:
Traveling for work with your husband doesn't actually satisfy your desire to travel together - rather, it intensifies it.

Fact:
My husband recognizes all this and has booked me a room here for the weekend.

Fact:
The idea of getting away, just for a night, makes putting up with a "Let's see how many times we can say 'that's what she said' today" competition a little easier. (I wish I were kidding...)

Thanks for the support

It's so nice to know everyone's behind me.
That they have my back.
Even without needing to assk.
I really appreciate it, butt I'm waiting for it to get old for all of you.

Oh yeah, and thanks for the memories - of course I remember that one time when...
...I broke my elbow tripping on my bedsprsead.
...I feel hard and fast at the winter retreat with everyone watching, all the while gloating about how smooth I was.
...I got hooked to the pole when we were sledding... right as all the cute boys pulled up...
...I fell during a marching band rehearsal, wearing my snare drum, getting called out on the speaker from the podium...
...I was in marching band.

You guys are the best.

Lessons from Israel v.2

Required reading for today's lesson: Genesis 16, 21:8 -21.

Bottom line?
Jews are from Isaac. Muslims are from Ishmael.
They both come from Abraham.

The conflict over land between Israel and Palestine fascinates me only slightly less than it pains me. Isn't there enough on this planet for everyone? Can't we all get along? How'd it all start? Will it ever end?

I'm embarrassed to say I never paid attention to Ishmael before. And I'm much, MUCH more Western than I'd like to admit.

If you had asked me a month ago to do word association for "Ishmael", I would have said Moby Dick.
And if you had said "Ishmael" and "Bible", I would have said "Moby Dick."
And if you had said "Ishmael, Abraham's other son", I would have said, "what?"

Isn't it fascinating that God gave two sons to Abraham. Gave them both to Abraham through unlikely sources. Brought them both to death's doorstop. Saved them both by providing for their needs. Promised them both a long lineage of favor.

Is the tension in Israel really part of His plan all along? How are we to make sense of that? I'm doing some reading up on that. I'll keep you posted.

coccygeal contusion

Living in Michigan all my life, I survive the winters in a state of anxiety.
It's not if I'll fall, it's when.
And until I do, once a winter, I'm on edge.
Looks like I'll be able to chill out this winter because I fell this morning.
Hard.
Friggin frost. It's not even Thanksgiving.
I wiped out taking the dog out - slipped on the top stair of the deck and thudded down three more.
Bottom line (pun intedended) is that I either bruised or broke my tail bone. No need for an x-ray as the treatment is the same - just drugs.
And yes, I will be sitting on this little dream boat for the next week or so...

Lessons from Israel v.1

Kids play in a universal language.


I don't speak Arabic. They don't speak much English.


But the kisses I received as we left these angels let me know we're friends now.


And you thought I wanted brown babies BEFORE...

we're home

I'm still not quite sure what to say about Israel. Great shoot, great people, great trip. I understand the conflict, but I sure can't make sense of it. It's kind of like if the US owned Mexico, and was 100x more aggressive about protecting the border. Even then, I can't make sense of it. I don't think we're meant to understand hate. Still too jet-lagged to get much deeper...

a dream slipping through my fingers

I have always wanted to have someone waiting for me at the airport holding a sign with my name on it. It's a sincere fantasy. I always scan the people at the bottom of the escalator, thinking someone might have my name, or close to it, so I can pretend. I imagine following the sign-holder to my limo and heading into Manhattan.

So here's my big news...
It's going to happen!
Here's the bad news...
I won't be there to see it.

We arrive in Israel on Sunday at 3pm.
We will walk outside to the bus.

My client arrives on Monday at 3am.
HE gets to see the dude holding the "Sara Hogan" sign at the bottom of the escalator.

Here's my dilema -- do I ask the client to take a picture because I want it soooooo bad!?

fellowship matters

Last weekend, we spent an entire weekend with our small group. It consisted of deep talks, shallow talks, a lot of Wii, apple picking, worship, and even a little swimming. Before hand, it felt like one more demand on my time. Afterwards, it felt like a sweet retreat. These people show me Jesus every time we're together and for that, I am grateful.

Finally, a forward that actually helped me

My mom sent me this.
I liked it.

Lesson Learned

Ever noticed how people only ever say "lesson learned" when they vow never to do something again? I never think "Wow - that totally worked out! Lesson learned."

Here's today's lesson.

Before staying late - real late -color coding spreadsheets and binders, ask yourself if your system translates to a color blind client.

And I quote...

Me: "So you can see here with my color key that all the blue sections indicate..."
Client, pointing to purple: "is this blue?"

ignorance is bliss

From my growing list of "things you should know when planning a shoot in Israel, learned the hard way":

Your Israeli guide and your Israeli bus driver are not welcome in Arab neighborhoods.
That whole Israeli/Arab thing is really a pretty big deal.
When someone says, "only Arabs live there", they aren't being stereotypical or racist. It's fact.
Money changes everything.
Relationship is more important than honesty to many people. Cover your buns.
There are many more Christians than you think living in Israel.
Israelis have the best pronunciation of "Sara" I've heard.
The government needs to know where you'll be always. Saying "in the wilderness" doesn't count.
They don't have cows.
Their sheep have "fat tails."
A six hour time difference is a pretty big deal, unless you have months to plan.

There will be more, I'm sure...

coulda woulda

I decided that if I were going to be home for Halloween, I would definitely be Kat Von D. I would wear big sunglasses and say stupid stuff all night, like "I like to help people. Tattooing is essentially saving the world." I hope she's still cool next year - I think this one has some great potential.

Anterior Uveitis

Dodger's eyes swelled shut last night. Now he can barely keep them open in a lit room. The doctor diagnosed him with with Anterior Uveitis. It's fairly common, hard to prevent and can have any one of the following causes:

• Metabolic
• Neoplastic
• Immune mediated
• infectious
• traumatic
• miscellaneous

He falls under the miscellaneous category.
So... basically they just medicate him for all of the above, hope for the best, and see what happens.

Bottom line? We just paid for a diagnosis of "swollen eyelids."

I shoulda been a vet.

Weng Weng

go ahead - be jealous

I have the best husband.
And I love him to pieces.
And he makes my heart glad.

I don't mind telling you

I'm a gazillion times more excited about going to Israel now that Keith is going.
Sometimes I think I don't realize how scared I am about stuff until I stop being scared.
I'm not scared of Israel anymore.
And now I need to go burn a bra or something to make sure I still resemble a feminist in the areas that matter.

55 Days and Counting

Gotta love pregnant women. This is one of my favorite e-mails yet.

"I miss my ankles. Come to think of it, I also miss sleeping on my back, waking up feeling rested, not wetting my pants on a daily basis, toilet paper rolls lasting longer than a day, my cute panties, wearing my own clothes, being able to climb the stairs without needing an oxygen tank on the other end, the security and comfort that comes from knowing that my bra will still fit the next time I put it on, etc."

And all I asked was "so how're you doing?"
Thanks for the daily dose of B.C., Kankles :)

And what are you ticked about?

Ever thought about what it would be like to live in a country with a compulsory army? I never did until I saw girls younger than me holding oozies when I was in Israel. The thought of me defending our country is only slightly more unsettling than the thought of YOU doing it.

So I'm working with our buddy, Boaz, to arrange for ground transportation, interpretation, and protection in Israel again the end of this month. Boaz just got called up for his reserve. Mandatory month-long leave. He's a civilian! Can you imagine? Can you even imagine?

the weekend

I'm really not sure when we got this old. Spending the weekend as three married couples going to a "college friend's" wedding, I kind of felt like I was in a movie. But then I came home and my husband was climbing a tree. I think I'll be seeing a lot more of this. Thanks, Brett.
























We were actually early to the wedding. Even with leaving 20 minutes late. That's because I lost the dress I was going to wear. Still MIA. How does that happen?! Sounds like scripted drama to me.




















The pews sat five. We were six. Made for great gossiping. We actually drove there like this, too. Girls in one car, boys in another. Even better gossip.



















Doug wasn't nervous at all. He said he was only feeling "ecstatic." Blaine was stunning, but I didn't get a good picture.



















Just me and the girls :)



















Proof that as much as things change, they also stay the same:

Meghan going crazy with the "make 'em kiss bells."


















Wassa with "a look."


















All in all, way better than a homecoming game! Love you guys.

Quote of the day

"You see, our church is pretty high tech. Our pastor writes something called a Blog. And the kids in our church can read it on line. He can even get video on it! "

Worth Repeating

I recently started reading Compassion by Nouwen, McNeill and Morrison. I sort of felt like I had no choice. It's one of those things where this book was put in front of me from a number of different directions (Katie's deserted island library was one of them). It demanded a place on my reading list. I don't have any regrets yet. Only one chapter in, I already have something worth sharing.

"When we take a critical look at ourselves, we have to recognize that competition, not compassion, is our main motivation in life. We find ourselves deeply immersed in all sorts of competition. Our whole sense of self is dependent upon the way we compare ourselves with others and upon the differences we can identify. When the question “Who am I?” is put to the powers of this world – school officials, church representatives, placement officers, athletic directors, factory managers, television and radio announcers – the answer is simply, “You are the difference you make.” It is by our differences, distinctions, that we are recognized, honored, rejected, or despised. Whether we are more or less intelligent, practical, strong, fast, handy, or handsome depends upon those with whom we are compared or those with whom we compete. It is upon these positive or negative distinctions that much of our self esteem depends. It does not take much reflection to realize that in all family problems, race conflicts, class confrontations, and national or international disputes, these real or imaginary distinctions play a central role. Indeed, we invest much of our energy in defending the differences between people and groups of people. Thus, we define ourselves in ways that requires us to maintain distance from one another. We are very protective of our “trophies.” After all, who are we if we cannot proudly point to something special that sets us apart from others?

This all-pervasive competition, which reaches into the smallest corners of our relationships, prevents us from entering into full solidarity with each other, and stands in the way of our being compassionate. We prefer to keep compassion on the periphery of our competitive lives. Being compassionate would require giving up dividing lines and relinquishing differences and distinctions. And that would mean losing our identities! This makes it clear why the call to be compassionate is so frightening and evokes such deep resistance.

This fear, which is very real and influences much of our behavior, betrays our deepest illusions: that we can forge our own identities; that we are the trophies and distinctions we have won. This, indeed, is our greatest illusion. It makes us into competitive people who compulsively cling to our differences and defend them at all cost, even to the point of violence."

This really made me stop and think. "You are the difference that you make" always sounded like a good thing to me. To think that attitude has stood in my way of being more like Jesus startles me. There are a number of other thoughts in this book that could keep me chained to my journal for hours. I wish it was a book someone made me read in college. I crave discussion. And I definitely need to have more compassion. That said, I'm only on page 28. So order it today and let's talk amongst ourselves.

I just wish it wasn't called viral

We're launching a new product for Christmas. A series, actually. I think they're pretty good. And they feature a pretty sweet house :) You can see the trailer here... but it would be even cooler if you watched it on You Tube and rated it a 5...

I'm shameless, I know.

My theory on fall

October is by FAR my favorite month. I've always loved it. Even the rain. The color, the crunch, the air sharp enough to make you tingle, but not hurt. Fall is good.

"I have a theory about that."

Seems like (in Michigan at least), every season takes us by surprise. It gets hot enough for shorts before you get your shorts up from the basement and back in the closet. Spring takes forever to come, but once it does it comes all at once - and then it snows again.

Fall is the only real slow progression into a season. It just keeps getting colder, but slowly. And while you're busy eating a caramel apple. Sort of a blissful distraction of the inevitable. Enjoy it while it lasts!

Rule of threes

A new record was set in my life last week - 3 women within my sphere of influence gave birth last week. One three weeks early, one a week late, and one right one time. Crazy. Wonder what this week holds?

Side note: I babysat on Saturday for Addy and Ellie while their mom recovered from birthing their whale of a baby brother. Ellie's word for every dog: Dodger. It kills me!

I can do it

Here's a secret: I'm intimidated by dog trainers.

Here's a brief description of my stereotypes of dog trainers:

• They like their dog better than you
• They're not afraid to tell you so
• If your dog isn't obedient, it's your fault
• the fact that the world doesn't accept dogs everywhere is your fault because of that one time when you didn't have a plastic bag and had to leave the turd in the park
• They're blunt
• They're kind of rude
• They're loud
• (They're really beautiful people who just may not approach human relationships the same way you do.)
• They're more disciplined than me
• They're not scared of saying no - to you or the dog
• They're in the same category of my brain as 'drill sergeant."

So when Keith announced his intention of volunteering at church tonight instead of going to Dodger's first day of school, I panicked a bit.

When I was almost 12 years old, I was bit in the face by my dog. He was a Christmas present for me - I had been begging for him since I was six. My parents rescued him from a home where he was abused. They knew only that he had been "picked on." He bit me on Valentine's Day. I had a half day of school that day and my dad, who worked third shift, was napping while I was watching TV. The dog was asleep in the bathroom. I crawled across the living room floor to sneek up on the 2 year old sleeping cocker spaniel. I spooked him. He reacted. I went immediately into shock. No tears, no pain, and I believed, no lower lip.

I took the handtowel and held it to my face. I woke up my dad. He laid me down on the bed and took off the towel. Then he turned white. Then he called my mom. Then he took me to the emergency room. Then they called a plastic surgeon. Then my mom arrived. Then she said, "He won't be there when you get home - be ready for that." And then I cried. Then she promised to wait to decide what to do with him.

3 layers of stitches later, we left the hospital. The dog was in the basement. He stayed there until I got my stitches out a week later. Then we went to the doggy psychologist. Then we went to the vet to have him neutered. And then we went to obedience school. See, the psychologist said that when my mom called, he had "no hope" for the animal. Cockers are biters and biters never learn. But he spent over an hour with our dog and was convinced he was a sweet animal who was (I'll never forget this word) "redeemable."

I'm old enough now that I can imagine the hell my parents caught for their decision to work with him instead of killing him. But back then, all I knew was that it was important for me to redeem him and to do that, I had to go to obedience class.

I was scared to death. Had a stomach ache every Thursday for 9 weeks. At the end of it, I had a best friend. He died the summer I graduated from high school. We had a good run. I don't regret it at all. I respect my parents for it. My mom told me just recently she learned about courage from me in that season. It was a significant benchmark that I have long since forgotten.

But it came back. Last week's informational meeting with Dodger's teacher brought me right back to that gym 15 years ago. My blood pressure rose a bit. I sat up straight. I scoped everyone out, looking for someone else who was maybe a little bit nervous. I got nothing.

That's because it shouldn't be a big deal. We decided to go to obedience class now not because our dog is out of control, but because we want to meet people in Holland. We don't go to church here or school here and we both work in the same office. And there were a few young couples in the calss who looked as cool as us. This will be fun.

I just needed to tell myself that.

running is always funny

I'm trying to plan a shoot here.
I'm just putting it out there that a 6 hour time difference can really suck.

And in other news, Christmas is only 3 months from today.
I'd be remiss not to mention it.

check 'em out

This guy opened for Martin Sexton on Saturday night.
I dig it.
You would, too.
All of you (both of you?).
They're that good.

do you really want to know?

Keith convinced me to buy ugly shoes.
I conceded because they're the most comfortable shoes I've ever put on my feet. Besides slippers, of course.
So... after 17 hours of deliberation I bought the shoes at lunch time today.
I've been conducting an informal poll. "How ugly are my shoes?"
Here are my favorite answers so far:

"The real question is why are you asking that question of someone wearing blue dress socks and black Crocs to work?"

Dead silence.

"They're sort of European."

"Yeah... pretty Dutch, actually. They reference the wooden shoe, no?"

"The button's cute."

"Did Keith pick those out?"

Just another day at the office

a weekend revelation

Not only do I not live in an apartment anymore, I no longer live an apartment lifestyle.
Sunday afternoons are for eating roast and walking in the woods, like we did yesterday.
They are not for grocery stores, laundromats, and bleaching the bathroom.
They are not for to-do lists.
They are for rest and laughter and reading books and watering the yard.
They can be because when you don't commute and you have everything you need at home, you can do all those annoying errand things on Tuesday, maybe one on Wednesday, and that last minute run on Friday and still make it home in time to make dinner and still have an evening.
I appreciate my house in a whole new way today.

Only in Holland

"Our soups tonight are creamy chicken, chicken corn chowder, and chicken con queso."

kind of like dropping acid

I'm completely sold - this is the best game since Guitar Hero.
We may soon wear out our welcome at the Hoekstra's :)

2 minutes, 27 seconds

That's how long it took for an interruption in my secret hiding spot in the office where I tried to hole up for some writing. A new record!
Sorry, Alon...

*sigh*

Now that summer's unofficially over (and because it's a gray, rainy, yucky kind of day), I think it's time for a good ol' top ten list of my favorite things from this summer. Here they are, without rank.

1. Having a new niece!
2. Getting a new puppy!

3. Bringing this fern back to life. It was seriously dead. I actually killed it twice. The health of this fern actually makes me feel as though I've arrived. Couldn't tell you where, though.


4. Owning a frickin' HOUSE! Better yet - having it feel like home. Our home. I feel so blessed - not just by the four walls and a roof, but for the love that's shared there. I chose this picture because of the fleck of orange paint on Troy's side burn. Another testament to our many blessings... Thanks, again, for painting that bathroom.

5. Anniversary #2 to my best friend, hunk of a husband.

6. Ice cream, and lots of it. My favorite:

7. Backpacking in paradise. This is only an hour away from home. But tell me it doesn't look like a deserted island. This was a timely weekend to "get away from it all." I go there sometimes in my head, still.
That weekend deserves a few extra pictures...

8. Having family in CA. Circumstances aside, it's fun to have a place to go. And it's fun to have a family you look forward to visiting. We were in LA and San Diego this Summer. First pic's at the Met in LA. You should go there.

9. Completing my biggest, most complicated project ever.


10. My first work trip with my husband.



But let's not get too meloncholy... apple cider, crunchy leaves and long sleeve T-shirts are just around the corner. I love it.