This is not a political post...

Disclaimer: I do not mean the following to be any kind of political statement. it is strictly for humorous value. I do not fully agree with either major party, and am pretty moderate in most of my views. I respect the President, as he is the leader of our great country... the Nobel prize committee... not so much...

The following are things that went through my head on learning that President Obama had won this year's Nobel peace prize...as promised to Mama Bonk-Chonk.

- I am sceptical that 3 years of being on the national political scene can qualify someone to be President... but hey, if the Nobel committee thinks that 12 days of being on the international scene can qualify someone for a Nobel peace prize, then apparently I was wrong.

- Last year's winner was honored for work over three decades to resolve international conflicts on several continents... this year's winner was honored for work over 12 days to attend multiple inaugural balls and press conferences... at this rate, I expect a call from the Nobel committee any day now for the 15 minutes I spent yesterday reading about the Afghan war...

-Using the Nobel committee’s selection process, I should get employee of the year for giving my boss a list of the things that I want to accomplish over the next four years… it doesn’t matter if I actually accomplish anything, just that I am able to turn a phrase while making my to-do-list.

- I’m trying to figure out if it was the “Can We Do It, Yes We Can” or the “Fired Up, Ready To Go” cheer that the Nobel committee identified as having the most impact on world peace.

-Maybe the Nobel committee is on to something... how would it have changed the world if Nelson Mandela was given the Nobel peace prize when he was just PLANNING on being an anti-apartheid activist…

-Mahatma Gandhi never won a Nobel peace prize… freakin’ Gandhi…

-Alfred Nobel’s will stated that the peace prize go to someone who has done “the most or the best work for fraternity among nations, for the abolition or reduction of standing armies, and for the holding and promotion of peace congresses.” Well, surely the Beer Summit qualifies for two out of the three…

-Bono, with all of his philanthropic work, has done more to deserve a Nobel peace prize than President Obama…recording Sunday Bloody Sunday for instance …

Food Bowl? What Food Bowl?

This is my weinie dog.



This is my Chica dog.




THIS is the post about Ginger disemboweling her toys.

So, what does Chica do, you ask? Chica dog is dilligent about hiding her food bowl so that no pesky feline or Dachshund can steal her food. (Don't get me wrong, the Dachshund is by no means wasting away... she's quite robust.) How does she hide the food?

By covering it of course.

What does she cover it with? Anything she can find on the floor. We will pour food in the bowl, and a few minutes later, will hear Chica rooting around in the bowl, covering it up. We hear this sound in the middle of the night when she gets up to eat too... she can't put her toys away after playing, but she can re-cover her food after eating... go figure. If someone, or some other animal, approaches her food dish after covering, Chica will get up and stand guard until the danger passes. If I uncover the food so the Dachshund can eat, it's only a matter of time before Chica covers it again. Here are some examples of her handy work.

Disemboweled toy scraps.


A pillow case. (I was doing laundry, and had stripped the bed, putting the sheets in a pile to wash.)


A dress I had failed to put in the hamper. (shocking, I know.) And a toy scrap.


Sugarbear's socks. It's funny how she uses both socks.


Socks/toy combo.

She uses anything that is handy... her blankets, towels. Fluff from toys. Scraps of paper. She will spend forever making sure it is covered just right.

I don't have the heart to tell her that we all know where the food bowl is... Dachshund included.

Pianos and Pom-Poms

I remember taking piano lessons when I was a kid. I always had a good ear for music, and generally did well. I did not have very many distinguishing skills as a child, so the predictability of piano was good for me. I practiced, I excelled. My brother played football, my sister was a cheerleader, I did not really have a lot of choice but to join in as another cheerleader. At this, I did not excel.

Most things in life are like piano lesson... the harder you work, the more successful you are. The harder you study, the better your grades. The more you prepare for your presentation at work, the better job you do.... I could go on and on. You have control over your success. I started thinking about things that don't work this way. Cheer leading for me. No matter how many practices I attended, or how much I desired to fit in with the other girls, I never quite cut it. Illness. If you are diagnosed with a disease, no matter how well you follow a treatment plan, your outcome is not guaranteed. The most routine of procedures or treatments can have complications.

Infertility is in this category. My thought process in general has totally changed since we began treatment. Offspring and my lack thereof is never far from my mind... it is constantly in the back of my head, just waiting for a lull in my train of thought, or for a little girl in a monogrammed sundress to walk by. The kicker is, no matter how much I want it, no matter how much or long I try to achieve it, success is not guaranteed. We can practice and work hard... We can do every fertility treatment under the sun, we can pray and meditate on this elusive blessing 24/7... but we may never conceive. I have no control.

So, as much as I want the sure success of the piano keys under my fingers, in reality, I may always be the ungainly, ungraceful, chubby cheerleader in the back row...

This...

RIGHT HERE
is what it feels like when a random stranger in Arkansas gives you the finger...

Leave Me The Stale Crackers and Grape Juice

So tonight at church we had the Lord’s Supper followed by a fellowship to get to know our new members. It was a great success. However, I was thisclose to not being able to participate in the Lord’s Supper, which would have been very conspicuous given that I’m married to the worship pastor.

Why, you ask, did I have such difficulty participating in so important a remembrance as the Lord’s Supper? Was I not in the right spiritual state of mind? Did I have some kind of sin standing in the way of my communion? No… it was the bread.

Bread? Yes, the bread.

I’m not necessarily a traditionalist. I try to respect the traditions of the past while at the same time being open to new things and ways of doing things. I don’t get all bent out of shape with the details of Church as long as the main points stay the same. As long as there is truth in the teaching, I could care less what order the service goes in, if I’m in a chair or a pew, if the Pastor is wearing jeans, or if the Doxology is sung at the end or not… you get the picture. But, don’t mess with the communion wafers. Let me explain…

Our pastor has a thing with the ‘community’ part of communion. He likes to ask someone in the church to make a loaf of unleavened bread, and have everyone take a piece of it. Good concept, and probably more true to the idea. BUT… this means that everyone is passing around the loaf of bread and taking a piece… through the whole congregation… the normal communion wafers are at least individual, and you just take one off the plate and pass it on. I just try not to think about everyone’s hands hovering over the plate as they pass… but for the most part, I get a wafer that no one else has touched.

The loaf method means that dozens of people are touching the bread… which we are then supposed to eat.

I would not classify myself as insane about germs… but I have a healthy awareness of cleanliness… I’ve already confessed my dislike of the whole handshake greeting during church, etc. I’m very diligent about hand washing, I don’t touch public toilets, etc.

So, to my horror, the Pastor pulls out the loaf tonight. I begin praying ‘please hand it to me first….’ He then proceeds to start passing it around on the opposite side of the room from where I’m sitting. This means that every single person in the room will touch the bread tonight before I do… every single one. This is my own personal communion hell… AND I’m sitting next to all of the youth guys… teenage boys who I KNOW for a fact aren’t as diligent about hand washing as I am…

I’m sitting there with what is probably a look of abject horror… and a very nice woman, a new member, catches my eye, and I know she knows my pain… she even came up to me later and patted me on the back in solidarity.

BUT… I accomplished the Lord’s Supper, germy bread and all… I took the smallest piece I could scrape by with and still call it the Body… minuscule. But, it’s the thought that counts, right?

Why I Shouldn't Be Allowed Out In Public...

So yesterday I spent the day in another town at an all-day conference for work. This was a region-wide meeting for everyone in my department, so several hundred people were in a big conference room at a very nice area hotel. During the afternoon break, I was in the second-floor lobby, enjoying my Diet Pepsi. I looked out onto the terrace, which was of course inhabited by smokers. To my great surprise, I saw my sister standing there talking and laughing. (we have the same job, different towns, so it made sense at the time.) I stared for a few seconds, and then burst out onto the terrace to give her a very hard time for not telling me she had come into town. I got about three feet from her when I realized that it was, in fact, not my sister, but a perfect stranger. A perfect stranger who looked so much like my middle sister it was kinda scary… same coloring,same hair fixed the same way, same body type, same mannerisms, same glasses,similar face, she even smoked her cigarette the same as my sister. (which, if she is reading this, I want to remind her, is a very bad habit that decreases her fertility… ) People were staring very cautiously by that point, as I had rushed onto the terrace with such a purposeful look… I stopped mid-burst, and in my rush to look as normal as possible and not crazy for running towards a complete stranger, I suddenly found something very interesting to look at over the balcony for as second, until I could reasonably back towards the door slowly, so as not to scare anyone… and that is why I shouldn’t be allowed out in public…

The most wonderful time of the year... maybe.

I love fall. It is hands down, my favorite season. I hate being cold more than Sugarbear hates olives, so fall is the perfect blend of not-too-hot, not-too-cold weather. I love the colors. Eggplant is my color obsession at the moment. I love the smells. I have a cabinet full of pumpkin spice and apple cinnamon candles just waiting. I love the decorations, scarecrows, pumpkins. I love Halloween, little kids dressed as pirates and princesses. I love that my birthday is in the fall. I love several other things especially...



Tights. I love tights. I especially love opaque tights with peep toe shoes. I have the basic black, but my two favorite pair are solid grey, and black/grey argyle. I can't wait to wear them! I love the fall and winter because I can wear tights several times a week. I will avoid panty hose like the plague, but I love tights, go figure.



Boots. My boots make me happy. These aren't exactly like my boots, but they are reasonably close. I like my boots with tights. My boots have sat lonely in my closet, all summer long, beckoning to me. Begging to be worn. (my shoe obsession is double when it comes to my boots... i bought them out of season, 80% off of retail... my shoe obsession is not an expensive one...) I will wear them the second it's cool enough to justify boots... almost time...

And finally,



Candy Corn. I have a weird thing for candy corn. I only ever want it in the fall... although, I prefer the pumpkins to the corn. I always buy a bag, and then only finish a fourth of it before I am done for the year... Sugarbear makes fun of me, but it's a nostalgic thing that I can't forsake... the puppies like candy corn, don't ask me how I know... although, just fyi, candy corn and electric blanket plus linoleum equal orange cement that will ruin your day... trust me.

Yea for fall!