Well, THAT was interesting...
I walked back into my office with my papers in hand from the printer upstairs. I sat down in my chair and heard my jeans rip. Yeah, from the top of the butt straight down to my upper thigh. I sat for a second basking in the unbeliev-ability of this situation. I know that's not a real word but I call it that because this is the SECOND time I've had a pair of Levi's split—and both split in the same place! Of course, last time I didn't know they ripped until AFTER I got home from church (where I usually sit on the front row) and Drew asked me about 'em. Come to think of it, I'm not sure which situation is more embarrassing…anyway…
I decided today would NOT be the day my co-workers saw my boo-tay, so I quickly grabbed my purse with one hand and slung it over my shoulder, and used my other hand to pull the back of my sweater down as I oh-so-gracefully cascaded out of the office and into my truck.
And it wasn't even 9 o'clock yet.
I hope this is not an indication of how the rest of my day is going to go.
Signing off now to check my calendar to see if I have time to shopping for jeans tonight.
Wish me luck...
God's got a plan for your life and the level of sacrifice is different for the man (or woman) of God than for the Sunday Christian. If you want to be a man of God you have to allow people to speak into your life as an authority figure. Learn from someone in the next 5 years what you need to continue the race rather than learning alone in the next 20. Take what God has given you, dotting your I's and crossing your T's. Be faithful. God doesn't need another weekend warrior. As Momma Joyce says: "You've got to go through to get through because there are no drive-thru breakthroughs."
You can be powerful or pitiful but you can't be both at the same time. There's no room in your hands for a sword and shield if you're sucking your thumb & clutching your blankie.
I was having lunch the other day with a couple of business associates. We were talking about college football and the conversation turned to Peyton Manning. We were commenting on his TV commercials, his appearance as host of Saturday Night Live, and of course, his football career. And then 'C' said something that has resonated with me ever since. He said the main thing he likes about Peyton is that Peyton loves the sport of football, represents it well, and "he'll protect the sport".
I never thought about protecting football. I mean, come on, it's football. Is it important to protect the game? What does it look like when it isn't protected? And then a few folks who haven't represented certain sports, companies, or institutions very well came to mind.
And that got me wondering...what things are we a part of, and do we protect them? We join and participate in organizations throughout our lives: companies, fraternities, sororities, clubs, professional associations...marriages; and we usually do so without giving enough thought to protecting them.
Do you protect the integrity of the teams you're on?
Father's Day Attack at the Moose Lodge
The attack began around 12:45 pm; that's when Moose walked through the kitchen door from the garage. As he put the bags of groceries on the counter, he noticed something was out of place. The sight of a single can of shaving cream on a piece of paper in the living room doorway floor caught his eye. He leaned slightly forward to read the sign. There were 3 lines.
"Pappy, Happy Father's Day. I'm apologizing in advance."
Then without any warning, the boys launched their vicious attack (OK, well it wasn't really vicious, but I'm going for effect here). The two young padawons pounced on him at almost the same time. Warrior cries could be heard throughout the house as they descended into the kitchen, gel shaving cream was flying toward its intended target faster than a speeding bullet. There was yelling (of the girly sounding variety) as their startled father realized he was being ambushed. Shrieks of laughter and excitement could be heard from the living room as Tasha watched from a safe distance. The chocolate lab grabbed her favorite tennis ball and stood nearby in case one of the humans wanted to play with her when the war was over.
The stunned Moose just stood there in disbelief. He'd just been creamed--menthol style. His favorite orange Tennessee Volunteers shirt was now covered in white shaving cream. So were his glasses. And his arms...and head. Suddenly the noise became muffled. Shaving cream was in his ears and it was impairing his hearing. The boys continued to "honor" and celebrate their father as they dressed him in a new mummy-like wrap.
The kitchen floor was squeaky clean under the fallen shaving cream areas. The men each retreated to a bathroom to shower. All of them still had shaving cream in their ears after the shower & had to go back to get the rest out. It was a father's day to be remembered.
*My sources tell me retaliation will be swift and unexpected. Check back for updates.
No, that's not the size of the coffee I ordered from Starbucks this morning. I wish.
It's the Spanish word for 'large', which describes the size of the mistake it was to make my jello legs get out my wonderful, amazing bed this morning.
In fact, that's all I can hear right now; the screeching of my thighs and calves...I think they're saying "we'll get you, my pretty", or something like that.
Well, now I understand why lawyers make you sign a statement saying you’re of sound mind when you make up your will. It’s so they can’t be sued for the stupid, hair-brained ideas you come up with. Take tonight for instance…
Moose and I were at Wal-Mart shopping for the food we’re taking to tomorrow night’s small group dinner. We decided to browse around and see what was new in Wally World. I stumbled out of the housewares section, and there they were.
The exercise videos, sitting non-chalantly on the shelves. Yep, juuuust sitting there. You know, looking all innocent and harmless like they do. Sitting on the shelf, quietly using their brain altering powers to convince you that you can be as happy and look as good as the guy or gal on the front cover if you own that particular video.
And they had them all in stock, too; the pilates with what’s-her-name, the kick boxing with the bald guy, the yoga, the walking…
And then I saw it. It was called “Dance Off the Inches…Sizzling Salsa”.
I picked it up and showed it to Moose. I said, “hey, this could be fun”. I promise I hadn’t been drinking. But I don’t know WHAT possessed me to think exercise and fun could go together. I know better than that; shame on me.
Yeah, we bought it. Yeah, we used it. Yeah, we totally suck at it. And “fun” is the LAST word I’d use to describe that dvd. Fun? PSH.
What can I say? I just wasn’t of ’sound mind’ tonight. And I’m pretty sure I won’t be of sound body tomorrow. At least, not until the motrin kicks in.
I gotta admit, I flipped out a little when I turned 30. I kept thinking about all the stuff I hadn't done and wanted to do, thought about all the stuff I had done and wished I hadn't, and all the stuff that was still to come, and wondered what my place was in all of that. Well, my birthday has rolled around again.
Today, after spending most of my days in the "T" zone (teens, twenties & thirties), I entered the "F" zone. I'm forty. That's right, the big 4-0, middle age, over the hill, etc.
But I gotta tell ya, entering the F zone hasn't been like turning 30 at all. And if I started to think some thoughts today similar to the ones I had when I turned 30, they were quickly and decisively dismissed this morning when Moose came in to kiss me good bye before work. He put my face in his hands and said "gosh, you don't look 40". Go ahead, call me vain. Tell me I'm shallow; I don't care. There was something about the way he said it that cemented the goodness of entering 'the F zone'. I'm cool with it.
If being 40 is as much fun as turning 40 has been, I'm gonna like the F zone a lot. I was sung to (twice), sent several good wishes and emails, given gifts I had mentioned I wanted, and came back to work after lunch to discover two, count 'em two, bouquets of flowers in my office; both of which contained purple flowers in honor of my favorite color. This birthday will long be remembered as the coolest one. And since I'm 40, there are a lot of birthdays to compare!
If you're reading this and you were one of the well-wishers, I want you to know you touched me deeply with your thoughtfulness. Thanks for celebrating the anniversary of my birth.
Followers
my never-ending battle
My 411
- Eva M.
- After struggling to fit into the proverbial round hole, I figured it was more honest to embrace the natural facets of my personality: passion for God and people, off-the-wall logic and a twisted sense of humor.
I'm an Air Force wife and former homeschool mom who writes about people and relationships, my faith, and my family. I love my crazy, beautiful, mosaic life...and coffee.