Kitchen Sink Saturday

The painting continues. Oh my stars and garters, how I hate painting. Tell me, friends: if YOU were in the market for a new (okay, not new, but new to you) house, would a neutral (read: white) palette on the walls make you more likely to make an offer? In other words, would crazy, funky colors make you LESS likely to make an offer?  

 

The big bloggy giveaways are winding down over at the Bloggy Giveaways site. Did you guys go and enter any of them? And was it just me, or were there more than the usual compliment of absurd requirements for entry on most of them? I really was quite disgusted disturbed irked this time at all the YOU MUST SUBSCRIBE TO MY FEED and TWITTER ABOUT MY GIVEAWAY and STAND ON YOUR HEAD AND RECITE THE NATIONAL ANTHEM WHILST DRESSED IN A CHICKEN SUIT blither. Just give the thing away, already! Although there was one lady who let you have an extra entry if you called your mother and told her you loved her. THAT was cool.

 

If you entered any giveaways, did you win anything? Pray, do tell!

 

The grandma/grandpa question has been settled! *trumpet blast of joy*! I am pleased to announce that when the little nipper arrives, I will be introduced to her (most likely scenario according to sonogram) or him (human error being a given at times) as “NONNY”. The Shakespearean influence was irresistable to me…Much Ado About Nothing is one of my favorite plays, so there you go. Should be easy enough for the tyke to lisp out, but should she/he twist it into something else, I will go with the flow. My Beloved wants to be Papa (emphasis on the first syllable), although I argued that Poppy went better with Nonny. For some reason, this man who insisted he would never answer to “Dad” but stay “Daddy” forever thinks a teen grandchild would be more comfortable with Papa.

 

Moving along…

 

To the person in my town with the Christmas decorations and lights still up: Dude. It’s time to let it go. Please. Everytime I feel fortified enough to soldier through winter and look forward to spring, I pass your house and plunge into a depression. When the Christmas clearance items at Wal Mart are gone, that’s your cue to move on. Thank you.

Happy

Things that have made me Happy lately:

 

Melting snow and ice…

 

Lemon Tea Cakes…

 

This sandwich (has anyone else noticed that food features predominantly in my happy posts? Hmmm)…

 

 

This stocking stuffer from My Beloved that is oh so appreciated in my frosty desk alcove

 

 

And these three lovely people…

(photo credit to my own dear mum for the loverly shot!)

A Conversation

What follows is a conversation held between my 19 year old daughter, Molly, and my 3 year old son, Tobias.

 

Toby: I will miss you.

 

Molly: You will miss me? Where are you going?

 

Toby: To our home. Up there. (pointing out the window to the sky)

 

Molly: Up there? Our home up there?

 

Toby: Yes. Our home up in the clouds.

 

Molly: How are you going to get up there?

 

Toby: Like this (putting his hands together above his head and making a blast-off noise) Pssssheeoww!

 

Now. Friends. I would like to know just one thing.

 

Is it just me, or would such a conversation Freak. You. Out.

Sometimes I am Not Too Intelligent

It is Ice Storm Season here in Oklahoma. I should have gone out yesterday, when most assuredly everyone in NE OK was packed into Wal Mart, inching along with their bags of ice-melt, but I was busy painting a bedroom and figured the warnings were greatly exaggerated, as they often are.

 

However, when it started coming down at noonish today, I looked into my echoing, empty cupboards, realized that they were predicting no break in the slippery stuff until Wednesday, and made the decision to hit the store before things got “too bad”.

 

I should have known, as I hacked at my van windows and slid down my driveway, that things were already there.

 

But we were out of all the necessities: bread, juice, bagels, yoghurt! What? Those aren’t necessities at your house? OH, and most importantly, cheddar bunnies. Without cheddar bunnies, the world as my 3 year old knows it pretty much disintegrates into outer darkness.

 

Things were dire. I had to venture forth.

 

I have been known to claim that I do not fear death. Let me just say that it is one thing to claim such a thing within your four walls. It is quite another, as you slide inexorably down an ice-coated hill, brake pedal crammed to the floor, to a busy road full of schoolbusses on their way to deliver children home early from school, to remember that you do not fear death.

 

I quite forgot, in fact.

 

I stopped with inches to spare, heart slamming into my throat, vehemently shouting the name of Jesus as He, and He alone, I am convinced, halted my vehicle.

 

I think the Cheddar Bunny people owe me a coupon, if not a free box.

Introducing: Metaphor Monday

I cannot tell a lie: I love a good metaphor. Whether it’s a series-length allegory like The Chronicles of Narnia or a basic poem like Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, I’m diggin’ it. Jesus was a fan of the metaphor too, only He called them parables because, well, I guess that’s what metaphors were called back in the day.

 

I’ve dabbled in metaphor a time or two (or three. or four.), and I thought it could be fun to make a weekly sort of game out of it. Every day things happen to us in our lives that just beg to be put into allegory form, and I, for one, want to hear about them. So here’s how it’s gonna work (hopefully).

 

Your metaphor can be as long or as short as you want. For instance, you could say “Our dog puked all over the living room, and as I cleaned up the mess I was reminded of how Jesus cleans up my messes (which I’m sure are just as gross to Him) and yet still loves me.”

 

Not that *I* would have any personal experience with that particular scenario. It’s just for example.

 

Or, you could make an entire post out of it, expounding upon every detail and how it all fits together. Take it to its limits! 

 

The only requirement is that your metaphor be drawn from something that has happened to you in the past week. I think we’ll all be surprised by how full our lives are of opportunities to see symbolism! It’s no accident that Jesus continually drew upon the simple daily activities of the people around Him to teach His most important lessons.

 

Of course, you don’t have to be serious. I’m counting on some of you to make me laugh! Be completely ridiculous if you want to.

 

Now, since this is kinda new and all, I’m not actually going to start until next Monday. This gives you guys a week to be thinking about it, and hopefully noticing things that might be good metaphor material over the next seven days.

 

I made up this cute bloggy button for the occasion. Feel free to take it and spread the word (right click to copy it to your computer)!

 

 

I chose a nautilus shell for the emblem because of the poem “The Chambered Nautilus“, in which Oliver Wendell Holmes uses it as a metaphor for spiritual growth.

 

So there ya go. My attempt at a weekly, themed series. I hope it doesn’t flop helplessly on the shore of blogdom like a beached octopus.

 

(That was a simile, by the way.)

(Almost a metaphor, but not quite.)

(Just to clarify)

Kitchen Sink Saturday*

I have a few things on my mind, so bear with me whilst I disgorge all the contents of my meandering brain posthaste. I may have a question or two for you thrown in, so I really hope the disgusting visual of the previous sentence did not run everyone off.

 

First of all, I have to say what a highly enjoyable time I have had reading through everyone’s responses to my “G-word” question. I had NO idea there was such a vast and varied pool of monikers to choose from in this whole Grandma game! Y’all have really helped me out, and given me quite a few giggles along the way. I’ll let you know what the final decision is soon.

 

Secondly, you might have noticed a few shenanigans going on with the appearance of my spot here on the World Wide InterWeb. I had a couple of people mention that the left sidebar was encroaching upon the text in my posts, and so we are working (and by “we” I mean “My Beloved”) to remedy the situation. PLEASE, if anyone is still having trouble, let me know in the comments or via email (in my “about” section). Being as how a blog is meant to be read, it would be a fine kettle of fish if it was unreadable.

 

And now, a moral dilemma: As a Christian, do you think it is okay to publicly slam a Christian novel that you believe to be pathetically sub-par? I mean, this book I’m referring to got some pretty glowing reviews, but when I read it I wanted to vomit, and then cackle with maniacal laughter, respectively. What gives? Do Christian reviewers somehow believe they should not say negative things about another Christian’s book because it wouldn’t be Christlike to call it literary offal? I’m seriously disturbed here.

 

Hey! Guess what! I’ve been nominated for “best family blog” in the Okie Blog Awards this year! W00t! Never mind that I’m up against the likes of bloggy greatness, I’m just delighted to be in the running. You can’t vote unless you’re an Oklahoma blogger, but I wanted to share my joy. If you happen to be stopping by from the Okie Blog site, then welcome! I hope you set a spell and enjoy the palaver. For those of you scratching your heads in confusion, yes, it’s true. I live in Oklahoma, not on the coast somewhere. *stifled sob*

 

Fourthly, people at Gymboree? Have you no compassion upon my poor beleaguered pocketbook? Are you trying to kill me here? When I saw these, I shrieked out loud. Have you no shame? Don’t pretend that you don’t know how cute they would be on my 3 year old. Don’t look all innocent and shocked. And this? Your cruelty knows no bounds.

 

Okay, and finally, I have a(nother) question. Are you completely sick of the whole “posts-that-correspond-to-days-of-the-week” idea? Do you think it’s contrived? Or fun? Is it fun? Or contrived? Because I’m thinking of having a weekly “thing”. But I won’t if it makes you all groan inwardly and chew your tongues. It has to do with metaphors. And Mondays. But, you know, I don’t want to say too much.

 

Oh, and I almost forgot. The dreadlocks? Yeah. They’re reeeeally time consuming. And they’re a long way from being perfect (I hear it takes months, if not years, for them to really shape up). But I think they turned out well, overall, for this lily-white mama who didn’t really know what she was doing. And Darling Daughter likes them, which is good enough for me.

 

 

*as in, everything but

Happy

As I prepared to write my “happy” post for this week, I received an email from my sweet Brother and Sister-in-Law. Reading their news, and watching the movie in the attached link made all else seem pretty insignificant.

 

To say the least, this week I am thankful for a Daddy God whose watchfulness over our error-prone lives is rich in mercy. And thankful for that little niece of mine who is here with us today because of her earthly Daddy’s watchfulness!

 

http://newsok.com/precaution-helps-avoid-drug-harm/article/3340105%20?custom_click=lead_story_photo

 

Chris, Mindy, and Story; we love you guys!

the G word

So remember how, last year, I got rid of had the extreme joy of watching my daughter marry the love of her life? And then, remember how, a month later, she told me that SHE was going to have a baby?

 

She. Have a baby.

 

HahahahahahahahaaaaaaahAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAHOOOHOOHOOO!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAHAAAA!! *gasp!* HoooBoy! *wiping tears from my eyes* Isn’t that funny? Cuz, you know, if SHE had a baby, that would make ME a, you know, a…one of those…uh…

 

Grandma. The word I am looking for is Grandma.

 

Obviously I am not the first to be taken slightly off-guard by this whole circle of life thing; after all, there are plenty of women who become grandmothers at even younger ages than I (40, if anyone is counting), and I’m grateful that Rose is 21 and had a long and glorious career of beating on taking loving care of her own younger siblings before embarking on her own mothering journey. I have honestly no problem with being a grandmother. I am already pinky-swearing myself that I will be the very best sort of grandmother: non-meddlesome, non-judgemental, doting, laid-back, hands-on, etc…you know…balanced.

 

But is it okay to not be called GRANDMA? I know there are different philosophies on the subject…some people say it’s a sign of society’s gross refusal to grow up that has spawned legions of Mimis and Nanas and Nonnas and suchlike. I even read on one message board that a woman’s mother told her that her grandchildren were going to be instructed to call her “Grandma Sexy”. 

 

Heh. heh. Grandma Sexy.

 

Hmmm….

 

But seriously! Other people view such monikers as legitimate alternatives for people who simply don’t feel like they fit the image that the word “Grandma” conjures up, and want something a little less…formal? More…original?

 

I have less than 3 more months to mull the “problem” over. So I’m curious…what did (do) you call your own Grandmothers, friends? What would YOU want to be called, if and when the situation presents itself to you? And while you’re at it, come up with a moniker for My Beloved, too, willya?

 

Because I’m way too young to be married to Grandpa.

Metaphor Monday, Except it’s Tuesday

I started a new Bible Study last Wednesday, and I’m totally stoked.

 

Whoa. Legwarmer flashback. Sorry ’bout that.

 

However, I think “stoked” is a great word for what I’m feeling. Dictionary.com (my BFF) defines “stoke” as “to poke, stir up, and feed (as in a fire)”.

 

After just one session, I’m feeling poked, stirred up, and fed. I can’t wait to dive in. I have the hope that springs eternal that this time my fire–that zeal for God–will build to such a height that it once and for all burns off the copious crap that tenaciously encrusts my heart.

 

Stoked. I think it’s time to bring the word back.

 

It’s humbling how desperately I need to be held accountable for my time with the Lord. When I’m not involved in a Bible study, I seem to find the nearest pit and immediately dive in. I don’t know why this is, but I’m hopeful that one day it will not be. In the meantime, I crack open the workbook and get to, well, work.

 

And there’s this metaphor that’s been swimming in my brain lately…

 

Have you ever had a houseplant in desperate need of water? I mean, I would never let a houseplant get into such a desperate state, but…theoretically speaking  *cough*…

 

Have you ever noticed that when you try to water such a plant (theoretically speaking), the water mostly gushes straight through the pot and out the bottom because the soil is all hard and dry?

 

But once it’s plumped back up again, it can receive and hold a lot more than when it was dusty and shrivelled?

 

When I’m away from God’s Word, my understanding shrivels. My discernment dries up. I can only take a tiny bit of His Truth at a time. Often, when I read, it feels like I’m standing under a massive waterfall of His wisdom, but I’m so parched that only a few drops are absorbed. The rest just flows on by.

 

But when I’ve been diligent to seek Him out through His Word, all kinds of revelation begins to flow. I have so much more capacity to hear Him, and to believe and trust Him.  I am able to receive that truth, even if it’s hard truth, and rest in it. The soil of my heart is plumped up and receptive.

 

I pray Hebrews 5:14 for myself: But solid food is for the mature, who, because of practice, have their senses trained to discern good and evil

 

I want to finally grow up! I want to sink my teeth into whatever meaty words He has for me until my fire for Him cannot be doused by the spitting and hissing of the evil one.

 

Stoked.

 

Totally.

My Weekend

How I’ve been spending my days…

 

 

The room is not very exciting, as we just painted it white…it was bright pink and covered in rosebuds previously, which was taxing my five-year old son’s patience. It will soon have brightly-colored rockets and planets (okay, eight planets and one planetOID) adorning the walls.

 

This morning I could have slept infinity more hours. I don’t seem to have the stamina that painting requires anymore. I’m not sure I would have made it if not for my trusty (now slightly paint-covered) ipod.

 
In other news, I am putting dreadlocks into my 19 year old’s hair. It is an interesting process. Your thoughts?

 

 

Also, Happy MLKjr. Day!