Ha ha haaa - NOT

This is generally a fluff blog. Look what cute thing my kid said! My other kid! Again! My (one time only) doctor is a smooth-low talker! I'm hormonal! I have exciting dreams about contact paper! I cannot. stand. the mis-use of 'your' and and and...! I wish so many things! I have an adorable daughter! I love things! My hubby can be so nice! I remind someone of a middle-aged black woman! And am evidently racist! I'm impatient! I am a gigantic idiot!

Right now, though, I feel the need to put down the fluff and take a stand. I just read this. Go ahead and click over there, read it for yourself. It's about a pastor who just asked his daughter (with small children no less) to stash his p0rn collection. 10 boxes worth. Seems one of his congregations is 'not pleased with him'. The others 'support him completely' - to which I wonder what/who they think they're supporting?

I am a Christian. A believer in God and in Christ. A person. A highly imperfect but forgiven person. A person who strives to be who God calls me to be, although I often fail spectacularly. I get sin. I get the entanglement of thoughts, the desire for things that we should turn our backs on. I get how slippery the slope can get. I get how pastors are people who sin, every person sins. Regardless that they are and should be held to a higher standard, they're still people. People who sin. People who sin and should repent.

This, though, I don't get.

This is sin. Big, fat, ugly sin. Plain and simple. Black and white. This is not ok!! He's been collecting this filth seemingly his entire life without remorse, without conviction. Gets RIGHTEOUS and DESERVED heat from his congregation and does he repent? get rid of it? feel convicted? come clean? get help (there's lots of Christian help for this very common sin)? NO. 'The p0rn god' hides the evidence. And most likely lies through his teeth. Goes unrepentantly deeper into the shadows and involves his family. Thank goodness he did - now we can all get a good laugh!

The comments on that post are mostly along the lines of "This is so hilarious!" I can see how this can be funny to a non-believer. Sounds like a classic... "You hear the one about the pastor and his 10 box p0rn collection?!" But as a Christian, I just can't see it that way. I can't see the humor in a man who consistently and repeatedly preaches one thing (I assume, anyway, because guess what?! SHOCKER! The Bible is chalk full of scripture that encourages wise and righteous living - and warns against the opposite) than does another. I see the sadness. The hypocrisy. The disappointment. The deception. The lives this will impact.

If I were him, I would be fearing God. In a big way. Even if he 'fools' everybody else, God knows.

"Let us pray" is right.

~We will return to your normally scheduled fluffiness shortly.

Missing having kids around, Part 2. Kinda.

Ok, so there's really no Part 2 - but I did say Part 1 and so I'm now legally obligated to mention Part 2, am I not? The kids will now be home in a matter of hours and I. need. more. time. !!! Mostly to get stuff done. I MISS THEM SO MUCH. So there's that. Which will make it joyous for them to be home. For at least 20 minutes.

But all of the ORGANIZING and RELAXING and ORGANIZING and TIME ALONE IN THE POOL and ORGANIZING and SLEEPING I meant to accomplish while they were away -- well, DANG.

Missing having kids around, Part 1

The past couple of days, the kids have been at Nana & Papa's (Justin's parents). They live a couple of hours away and so to 'make the drop' we met half-way. I cried nearly all the way home while cursing myself and calling/texting his mom to remind her of little things - little things that really, everyone still would have lived without her knowing. I'm sure she's never been so temped to turn her phone right OFF. I am one of those irritating moms who CANNOT WAIT to have some time to herself and then the instant it happens, moooourns the mourning of the broken-hearted, crying into a tub full of Ben and Jerry's. At least I didn't have to share.

I made cinnamon rolls for breakfast this morning (which I never, ever do, they just looked sooo delicious in the store). And by made, I mean I popped the tube and set the oven. Pioneer Woman should have me shot. So I gave one to Justin along with a smoothie and sent him off to work. 5 cinnamon rolls minus 1 cinnamon roll. Then I ate one. And now I want another one. Or three. I just made a startling revelation. There is no one else to blame for the additional consumption of cinnamon rolls. In my normal life, all of them could easily disappear and no one really had to know who ate what. Now, all by my lonesome, it's painfully clear I alone am responsible for said disappearance of the fatty, sugary goodness. Hey, wait! I have a tiny resident child that I can blame anything and everything on and society will most likely smirk with understanding and acceptance. THANK GOD.

NorCal

So I started this post on vacation but never did get the darn thing finished. So, if all of my 'tenses' aren't correct, you know why (who, me, lazy?). We were gone for 9 days to very Northern California, redwood country, where it's easy to feel short.

We're visiting my parents in northern CA - my dad is working here on an extended project so they're doing the live here/live there thing for who knows how long.

They're living in an... apartment? loft? former brothel? (yeah, that!) on the second floor of commercial building downtown - one block from the bay/boardwalk, across the street there is a gazebo/fountain complete with hungry pigeons and there are quaint shops & eateries galore in every direction. It's furnished in French Fanciness and I'm constantly afraid the kids will break something. As long as it's not the coffee maker, I'm sure we can handle it. So yeah, back to the brothel... it was the most ahem, highly uh, traveled? utilized? visited? brothel on the west coast until they started cracking down on that sort of thing, or perhaps until a wife or two got wind of it.

Our bedroom has two doors to it, they just knocked out the wall between the rooms of uh, entertainment? and made it into a French Moroccan boudoir. How often does one get to say 'boudoir' and not sound uppity? It's interesting to think of all who once 'slept' there. *Blush* There is a large upstairs courtyard that connects a small office and main apartment which also has a conservatory. Very interesting digs.

I know what I'm about to admit sounds very ignorant (but if the shoe fits...): this is the first time I've actually realized that June/July doesn't necessarily mean summer. Duh. I guess it's like a lot of people north of wherever can't understand that we often can wear short sleeves on Christmas. While I'm sure our patio at home is sizzling, I'm sitting here BUNDLED up, snuggling my coffee cup, wishing I thought a high of 58 with WIND would be cold. Wuss. In my defense, weather.com didn't disclose the sometimes wind, the bone-cutting, nose-running, cry-inducing wind. I brought a few light coats & pants but that's it. We went to the thrift store to buy 'real' winter clothes - thank you, God, for cute cast-offs!

Yay cold!:

Having been home for about a week, I need to now re-read (and re-read and re-read) the part about having been cold... it seems like a dream, a far-fetched, unattainable dream. Because dudes: did I ever tell you about the time the mascara literally melted right off of my eyelashes? Trails of dripping mascara intertwined with trails of dripping tears (or was that just sweat?)...

Still. It's good to be home. Nearly if not equally as good as it was to be away.

Jeans!

And sweatshirts! I'm wearing jeans and sweatshirts! Giddy from jeans and sweatshirts! More later...

My dearest childhood friend

When I was 5 years old, my dad gave me Teddy. More accurately, he gave me a little teddy bear and thanks to my wildly creative imagination, he was henceforth named Teddy. I was appauled by anybody else who had a 'fake' Teddy. We moved a lot growing up and often times I felt he was my only friend in the world - I truly thought he got me (he did, he totally did) - understood my childhood angst and listened patiently with those wise, understanding eyes - and never once said or even thought anything unkind.

Because of my dependency on Teddy to sleep, for (cough) decades, Teddy has had lots of adventures - including a number of trips down the Grand Canyon, getting lost on the side of the road for weeks (SOB) and accompanying us to Hawaii on our honeymoon. He nearly went to Europe to try authentic French croissants with me but I was terrified my bag would be stolen and he was Irreplaceable. It was hard to sleep in Europe.

I was about seven months pregnant with Gracie when I stopped sleeping with Teddy every night. I just couldn't get comfy with him there jabbing me in the ribs, I had enough of that from the inside. When Gracie was about two, I tried passing Teddy onto her. I was so excited to give him to her - I could just imagine the joy lighting up her face when she realized what a precious and wonderful friend he was... someone she certainly could not fall asleep without. One night at bedtime, I lovingly told her about Teddy and offered him for her to snuggle with... she immediately chucked him across the room. I nearly wanted to slap her and shed a few tears. Two just doesn't get sentimentality. Duh.

Four years later, I tried again. This time I used Guilt, Whimsy & Cunning to bestow him to her. Thankfully, she fell for it. And him. She's not yet dependent on him to sleep, but I hope she soon becomes a Teddy addict. I'm weird that way.

Yesterday she wrote a book about him. Her first novel! Spelling and punctuation are authentic.

Teddy
by Gracie (age 6)

Teddy is my best friend. Teddy is really silly. Teddy is really fun to have around. We like to read, play, do some silly stuff together. When Teddy meets my new friends he plays with them. Teddy is really cute and kind. When I took Teddy to school me and Johnny were laughing so hard that Teddy was starting to laugh too. We play school and Teddy is the princibal. Teddy dressed silly.

Teddy is six years old. When it is Teddy's birthday he sticks his head in the cake. Teddy gets the first piece. Teddy likes vanilla cake and vanilla ice cream. Teddy's favorite books are the Boxcar Children books. When Teddy eats dinner or breakfast or lunch Teddy sticks all of his ten fingers in the food. Teddy's favorite kind of food is Panda Exspress. Teddy also likes salad.

Teddy is very friendly. When Teddy doesn't get what he wants Teddy tries to drive to Panda Exspress. When Teddy is sleepy he says, "I'm not sleepy." I say "yes you are sleepy." When Teddy hits the pillow he falls asleep. Teddy never reads in the night or resting time. Teddy dos'nt like to play ring-around-the-rosy at all.

When Teddy is in the bath Teddy says, "Yuck"! When Teddy is watching TV Teddy says lets go to outerspace! I say no! Stop talking through movies. Teddy says, "sorry." I say, " well right you better mean it."

When Teddy was ten he played his ipod. The songs were Jesus songs. Teddy wants to learn more about Jesus. When Teddy was a tiny baby he looked so cute. Teddy also said funny words when he was a baby.
Toot Lolipop
Toot Lolipop
Goo Goo Ga Ga

How Teddy said "Thank you Mommy was Ga-Ga Mama. Teddy was really cute when he was a baby. Teddy loves going to church. I love to read Teddy stories and play and make cool crafts. Do you like Hannah and Adam I asked? I don't know Teddy answered. You've seen Hannah and Adam a lot. No I have'nt. I asked Teddy to tell me the truth. Teddy started to say that he was going to think about what he was going to say. Finally Teddy said I lied to you, I'm really sorry. It's okay that you lied to me. That night Teddy had a dream about himself eating pancakes. Teddy had a good dream.

The next morning was Saturday. Teddy asked if they could have pancakes for breakfast. Mommy answered yes. After lunch they went to Makutu's Island. It was fun!

THE END.

Astounding Laziness

Somehow a black pebble made it to the floor in our bathroom toilet area. Every time I see it I get a little heart palpitation, thinking it's a scorpion or cockroach. By the time I am seated in, ahem, the toilet area conducting or pretending to be conducting Very Important Business, I forget about it, you know, with the VIB and all. It's all the way to the back side of wall, out of sight by that point.

Then it starts all over again. Days and days of this. Me spying it from a standing position, cursing my aching back and bulging belly, so so very far from the pebble. The act of leaning over, stretching, and picking it up seems much too much. After all, it is SO far away. A little heart palpitation every now and then is good for the ticker, right?

It's still there. Taunting my laziness. And highlighting my inability to learn or remember the difference between an inanimate rock and a scorpion.