The Square Peg

These are the three things I can count on when I go to pet Zoe.

Her wag greets me, her licks practically wash my whole face if I don't bob or weave in time, and her nibbles tell me she's ready to play. And sometimes her nibbles are those little tiny bites that are meant to be playful but are stronger than she realizes. We call those kind "mafia love".

She charged into the house a while ago, stopped to bark when she found us, then ran back out at top speed with her head low and ears lying flat. At first we laughed but then I wondered if she was trying to tell us something. She was. She came in a second time to get us but Moose was already on his way out the door. The dog across the street had come to our side of the road and was in the neighbors driveway. And evidently, this required that we be notified.

Who needs motion lights, an alarm system or firearms when you've got Zoe the wonder dog on duty? :)

It all started when I asked Mrs. Pruett (my high school Vocational Office Ed teacher) if I could turn in all my shorthand lessons at once...which was, of course, the end of the quarter. She agreed but followed up her "yes" with the now famous (to me, anyway) motto "It's easier to keep up than catch up." Since I learn very few things the first go-around (and sometimes not after the 2nd, 3rd or even 17th), Mrs. Pruett had ample opportunity to drill that amazing piece of wisdom into my thick skull. I think she said it to me about a hundred times.

Mrs. Pruett only said that to me in reference to keeping up with my shorthand lessons, but it applies to other things in life, particularly cleaning a house, doing paperwork, and balancing a checkbook. And even though it took me long enough to grasp the concept (about 6 or 7 years AFTER graduation), I'm rockin' it for the most part.

Dishes are done every day (I hate waking up to a messy kitchen), laundry's done throughout the week (putting Mrs. Pruett's principle into practice, I do a load every other day or so), and I deeper clean on Fridays, leaving me free for whatever comes up during the weekend. All the laundry's washed and put away, floors are swept (sometimes I even mop!), and all our junk, er, I mean treasures get dusted. Dusting and floors don't fall in the 'keep up vs. catching up category because it takes the same amount of time to do them regardless of how dirty they are. One of these days though, I'm going to hire a maid and cleaning baseboards will be on her to-do list because I can think of more fun ways to spend my time...like writing, for instance.

However (this is the part where I'm not rockin' it so much), we moved back to middle Georgia five years ago and bought this house a year later. And the Moose Group has never lived in a house longer than 3 years at a time. I know some of you are probably thinking about how weird it is to move so often. But I'm here to tell you how helpful it is. I'm not a packrat and clutter stresses me out. Moving every couple of years means I get rid of stuff we haven't used that's gotten trapped in the bottom, top, or back of a closet, shelf, basket, box, nook or cranny. But not moving on our seemingly-regular-3-year-schedule presents me with the task of decluttering for the sole purpose of decluttering (and maintaining what sanity I have left after home schooling two rowdy boys for the first 12 years of their education), rather than decluttering to make an upcoming move more streamlined and flowing smoothly.

So starting next week, I will be making myself a list of ALL the areas that need to be tackled here at the Moose Lodge (Ranch?) and choosing their order of priority. And the week after that will begin what I'm affectionately calling "The-it's-been-4-years-so-it's-time-to-dejunk-already!-Project-of-2009." With Moose having 20 years in the Air Force already, I suppose it's unrealistic of me to continue using the AF as my "purging-with-a-purpose" crutch.

I'm pretty sure I'll clean off my desk before I start making my list. I find it more motivating to work on a clean surface. I know, cleaning the desk IS the beginning of the list, but what can I say? It's a sickness. Anyway, if you don't hear from me by say, Wednesday of next week, do you mind giving the Coast Guard a call? I hear they're able to help in all kinds of crazy situations. Thanks. :)

What about you; what's the longest you've lived in a house? Share your story with me. I love stories.

Peace out.

My friend Chris’s Facebook account was hacked today. I signed on this morning to see his status update listed as ”NEEDS HELP URGENTLY”. I thought that was odd and wondered what it meant. And then ”Chris” IM’d me. Here’s how it went down (baseball umpire style):

“Chris”: hello

(Swing & a miss, strike 1! I know Chris and he would’ve said “hey” or something cool and hip, not “hello”.)

me: hey, stranger. how’s life?

“Chris”: why do you say stranger?

(Steeee-rike 2! Chris would’ve known since we haven’t seen each other in a month of Sundays)

me: because I haven’t seen you in forever

“Chris”: I’m in London

(He. Is. Outta here!)

me: Bullshit; this isn’t Chris.

(Yes, I actually wrote that. I figure since God read my response and knows I cussed, I might as well be real with you.)

“Chris”: what?

me: Lemme guess; you need $, right?

“Chris”: why do you say it’s not me?

me: Your village just called; they want their idiot back. Now go away.

Following our chat, the poser IM’d several other Facebook friends and told them he was robbed at gunpoint in London and needed money to get back home.

After I updated my status warning people about it, I got to thinking…what if I hadn’t known Chris as well as I do? I might’ve believed the poser’s lie and fallen for a scam.

And then I wondered how many times I’ve fallen for lies from the enemy (poser) because I didn’t know God’s character. And I thought about how important it is that we know Him.

Know Him so we don’t believe the lies that tell us we are:

• worthless
• unloved
• unwanted

Know Him so we know:

• what love really is
• where He’s working
• how to help (don’t spectate; participate!)

Know Him so we won’t be fooled by persuasive deceivers. Because knowing about Him isn’t enough.

Last night I got home from TN to find an updated list for my trip to the store this week.

The first item on the list was written before I left. Moose wasn't sure how to spell bouillon (he was close) but Drew changed the spelling to what you see above. And then he added his own items to the list.

The Aqua Reefer is actually Old Spice's Red Zone deodorant. The "flavor" is called Aqua Reef, but as Drewby does, he put his own spin on it. He also informed me he's all caught up on the House episodes for the season, which explains tuberculosis and the sarcoidosis since it's never lupus. But between Aqua Reefer and the item he wrote on the list a while back, I'm starting to wonder if I should be a little concerned about him. Can you recommend the name of the good counselor? :)

Have you ever stopped to think about why you believe what you believe? I’ve been examining some of the beliefs that formed in my heart and mind while growing up, and realized not all were intentionally instructed. Many were passed on with specific intent. Some were accepted and I took ownership of them while others were rejected and I formed different beliefs. But more was caught than taught. Perhaps that’s true of you, too.

I was told that God created everything, and that He loved it all. And I believed it. But I didn’t like church much as a kid; it was full of rules (mostly “don't’s”; very few “do’s”) and righteousness seemed to be measured by what I subtracted from my life, rather than by what I added to the world. This disturbed me.

Nobody ever instructed me to “be prejudice”, yet racism and bigotry were never classified as unChrist-like by the church we occasionally visited. In fact, I don’t recall it ever being mentioned. But even as a little girl, I knew hating a group of people for something they couldn’t control (skin color, eye shape, etc) was not only ridiculous, it was wrong. I didn’t want somebody to dislike me because I had brown eyes or was left-handed. I was fascinated by our different skin colors, though.

I loved milk when I was little. White milk and chocolate milk have similar chemical structure, and I thought they were both delicious. And in my five-year-old mind, I likened ethnicity with milk. For real. I deduced that God liked white and chocolate milk. And since I knew chocolate came in milk and dark varieties, I concluded my Panamanian next-door neighbor was milk chocolate flavored, and my upstairs African neighbor was dark (fudge) flavored. I couldn’t figure out what kind of milk Asians were (I didn’t know about buttermilk then), but milk was milk, and it was all good; the strawberry kind, the chocolate kind, and the white kind I poured on my Fruit Loops every morning.

I’ve been attending church most of my adult life. And the math I’m most concerned with is the REALationships being multiplied as a result of truth + love.

Diversity doesn’t = division; unity doesn’t require conformity.
I’m just sayin’.