Last night I picked up Kaitlyn from the babysitters, came home, and made dinner for both of us. (Mike was gone all evening at a softball game.) After dinner, I washed dishes while Kaitlyn stood at the baby gate in the kitchen doorway and talked NON-STOP.
Jabber, jabber, jabber.
Jabber, jabber, hit. Zack. Jabber, jabber.
Did you hit Zack today? Or did Zack hit you?
Yes. Jabber, jabber. TIME OUT! Zack.
Did Zack get a time out?
Yes. Timeout! Zack. Hit. Hug.
Did Zack hit you, then get a time out, then have to give you a hug?
Yes!
Jabber, jabber, jabber, time out. TIME! OUT! [shaking her finger]
This went on for quite a while. At times she would pause to sing a heavy metal version of "Twinkle, twinkle, little star". I say it was heavy metal because she shouted it - "Twinkle! Twinkle! Lit-til STAR!" - and did a type of head-banging move along with the "singing".
Then she'd go back to jabbering.
Mike got home after Kaitlyn was asleep, so this morning he (without knowing about the events of last night) asked her if she had fun yesterday. I was in the kitchen and could hear her in the living room saying, "Time out. Zack!" She continued to recount her version of the story to Mike.
I wasn't sure what had really happened, and I wanted to make sure that Kaitlyn wasn't the one hitting and getting time outs. So when I dropped her off at the sitter's this morning I asked about the whole thing.
Meagan (our sitter) started laughing. What really happened is that the kids were outside yesterday, and two of the boys were getting into something that they weren't supposed to. Meagan threatened them with a time out, and I imagine they would stop for a bit, and then get back where they weren't supposed to be, so Meagan would again tell them they were on the verge of a time out.
And the whole time Kaitlyn is on the swing yelling "TIME OUT! TIME OUT!" (And was probably shaking her finger at them.)
I think she has an obsession with time outs. Or with discipline in general. A couple of weeks ago she wanted to go upstairs. I told her no. She went to the stairs and started up the first step. Again, I said no, and I told her that if she went any further she'd be given a time out.
She stopped, turned around, and came back towards the living room. I patted myself on the back. It seemed that the whole time out thing was working.
While I was still congratulating myself on my successful parenting skills, Kaitlyn went into the dining room and climbed into the time out chair.
"Time out. Mommy - time out."
Excuse me? Really? She is giving herself a time out? Oh. My. Word.
I looked at her, exasperated. She sat there and looked back at me with a very satisfied look on her face, as if this was the plan all along - to manipulate me into giving her a time out.
I said, "Kaitlyn! What are you doing? A time out is meaningless if it is something you want!"
She continued to look at me, with a pleased look on her face, and said, "Time. Out!"
Oy.
She also makes a big deal when we sternly tell her no. She'll stop doing whatever it is she shouldn't be doing, and for the next five minutes we hear, "jabber, jabber, jabber, NO! jabber, jabber, no, no, NO! jabber, jabber," accompanied by a shaking finger and stern expression. It's as if she is recounting the whole experience over and over again, for fun. She seems to find great pleasure in this.
What does this mean? Is she bound for a career as a referee? A judge? Law enforcement? Capital punishment?
Is this a phase she will grow out of? Or does it give us a glimpse into her personality?
Or, is it possible, that at the tender age of 21 months, she is already performing psychological experiments on us by giving herself time outs?
Maybe she has a master plan to drive us crazy, and this is the first phase.
Maybe she has formed an alliance with the cat, and their plan is to take over the house.
Then again, maybe my imagination is just a wee bit over-active.
(But I'm sure she gets her run-away imagination from her father.)
Oh, and I'm a little concerned at how she had taken several events from yesterday and melded them together to form her little version of the story. (Again, I'm sure she gets this from her father.) What in the world will she tell teachers, neighbors, and relatives? And cashiers, bank tellers, and random people on the street?
I sense years of explanations, embarrassment, and endless material for blog posts in my future.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Audrey Caroline
Have you met Audrey Caroline?
No?
Well, let me introduce you.
Audrey Caroline lived less than three hours in this world. And yet she has impacted thousands of lives. Her story is absolutely heart-breaking, and you may as well know right now that if you dive any further into this, you may need a box of tissues. (Don't say I didn't warn you.)
Audrey's story, in a nutshell, is that her parents found out midway through the pregnancy that she had some physical conditions that were fatal. The best case scenario is that she would live for two minutes after her birth. Yes, you read that right - the best case scenario is that she would be born and live for two minutes.
Of course her parents were encouraged to "terminate" the pregnancy, but they knew they couldn't do that. They had to carry her to term and then leave the rest to God. Audrey was born on April 7, and she lived for about two hours and fifteen minutes.
Her mom, Angie, blogged this entire journey. I found her blog yesterday and was compelled to read the entire thing. (Enter the box of tissues.) The story is amazing, horrible, beautiful, maddening, and uplifting. I encourage you to visit the blog and read it from the beginning.
You can also watch this video, produced by a church in Nashville, that summarizes this family's experience. It is about 25 minutes long, but I promise you it is worth watching. If you are anything like me, it will change the way you look at things.
Also, Audrey's dad, Todd Smith, is in the group Selah. Their next album will include a song, called "I Will Carry You", that was written (and recorded) in the midst of this. You can hear it while watching this slideshow of the Smith family. (Again, you'll need to pull out the tissues.)
If you know anyone who has suffered the loss of a loved one, and especially if they have suffered the loss of a baby, they might be interested in reading Angie's blog. She is very transparent about her pain, her anger, and her deeping trust in Jesus.
And please remember Todd and Angie and their family in your prayers, since just last night their family experienced another tragedy. Todd's sister, Nicol (who used to sing in Selah), went to check on her two-month-old baby last night and discovered that he was not breathing. The paramedics could not revive him. How much grief can one family take?
In one of her posts, Angie mentions the hymn "It Is Well with My Soul." I never knew the story behind this hymn until she gave the background. Here is the story, as posted on Wikipedia:
No?
Well, let me introduce you.
Audrey Caroline lived less than three hours in this world. And yet she has impacted thousands of lives. Her story is absolutely heart-breaking, and you may as well know right now that if you dive any further into this, you may need a box of tissues. (Don't say I didn't warn you.)
Audrey's story, in a nutshell, is that her parents found out midway through the pregnancy that she had some physical conditions that were fatal. The best case scenario is that she would live for two minutes after her birth. Yes, you read that right - the best case scenario is that she would be born and live for two minutes.
Of course her parents were encouraged to "terminate" the pregnancy, but they knew they couldn't do that. They had to carry her to term and then leave the rest to God. Audrey was born on April 7, and she lived for about two hours and fifteen minutes.
Her mom, Angie, blogged this entire journey. I found her blog yesterday and was compelled to read the entire thing. (Enter the box of tissues.) The story is amazing, horrible, beautiful, maddening, and uplifting. I encourage you to visit the blog and read it from the beginning.
You can also watch this video, produced by a church in Nashville, that summarizes this family's experience. It is about 25 minutes long, but I promise you it is worth watching. If you are anything like me, it will change the way you look at things.
Also, Audrey's dad, Todd Smith, is in the group Selah. Their next album will include a song, called "I Will Carry You", that was written (and recorded) in the midst of this. You can hear it while watching this slideshow of the Smith family. (Again, you'll need to pull out the tissues.)
If you know anyone who has suffered the loss of a loved one, and especially if they have suffered the loss of a baby, they might be interested in reading Angie's blog. She is very transparent about her pain, her anger, and her deeping trust in Jesus.
And please remember Todd and Angie and their family in your prayers, since just last night their family experienced another tragedy. Todd's sister, Nicol (who used to sing in Selah), went to check on her two-month-old baby last night and discovered that he was not breathing. The paramedics could not revive him. How much grief can one family take?
In one of her posts, Angie mentions the hymn "It Is Well with My Soul." I never knew the story behind this hymn until she gave the background. Here is the story, as posted on Wikipedia:
This hymn was written after several traumatic events in Spafford’s life. The first was the death of his only son in 1871, shortly followed by the great Chicago Fire which ruined him financially (he had been a successful lawyer). Then in 1873, he had planned to travel to Europe with his family on the S.S. Ville Du Havre, but sent the family ahead while he was delayed on business. While crossing the Atlantic, the ship sank rapidly after a collision with another ship, and all four of Spafford's daughters died. His wife Anna survived and sent him the now famous telegram, "Saved alone." Shortly afterwards, as Spafford traveled to meet his grieving wife, he was inspired to write these words as his ship passed near where his daughters had died.Here are the words to the hymn:
It Is Well With My Soul
When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Refrain:
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
Horatio Spafford
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
SneakerBalls [Alternate Title: God's surprising form of manna]
Last week I wrote about manna, and the sometimes surprising adventure of trusting God to provide for our needs. I also wrote about winning a contest on one of our local TV stations.
This, my friends, is a follow-up to both of those posts.
My prizes came in the mail on Monday, and I'm sorry to say that I did not win any Cedar Point tickets. Bummer.
Mike had arrived home early on Monday so he called me at work to let me know my prize package had come, and opened it up while I was on the phone with him. His comment about not getting any Cedar Point tickets was, "Well, at least we got some SneakerBalls."
Excuse me?
Yes, dear friends, one of my prizes was this:
I had never heard of such a thing. And now I am the proud owner of a pair of peppermint scented SneakerBalls. You will be happy to know that my shoes will now smell of pepperminty freshness.
(I'm sure this knowledge will help you sleep a little better at night, as you were probably fretting and stewing over the condition of my shoes.)
In addition to the SneakerBalls, we received a t-shirt, some American Idol trinkets, several magnets, tickets to a baseball game (for our local minor league team), and about $50 in gift certificates. The gift certificates were the best part - there were about $25 worth of certificates to Taco Bell, KFC and McDonald's, and a $25 gift certificate for a local bison ranch.
Yep, you read that right. A company that raises bison (buffalo) and then sells the meat. We can use the gift certificate at their booth in the food court of the local farmer's market, or we can use it to buy some bison meat. We'll probably use it for a little of both. Bison is similar to beef, but is much lower in fat and calories. (Click here for more information.)
Last week I was a little miffed that my finances for the week did not go as planned, but as I wrote here, God reminded me that he's always provided for us. (In other words, "stop whining Erin!") :-)
A few days after that post, I remembered something Sara had written about, where you could get $25 for just signing up with a new online service. I decided to check it out, and guess what? I now have an extra $25 in my bank account. (Thanks, Sara!)
And then I won this silly contest on TV, and as a result, we have all of these coupons. In the past week I've received over $75 in free money/stuff. How's that for God's creative provision?
I also sat down last night to go over our finances and pay some bills, and things worked out differently than I thought they would. We somehow had a little extra, which allowed me to pay off the plumbing bill without dipping into our meager savings.
There have been many times in my life where I've wanted God to move in a big way. Sometimes he has, allowing me to see his awesome power and infinite creativity when it comes to arranging the details of my life. These big moves have often come unexpectedly, or they have come after being greatly disappointed because the big move didn't come when and how I wanted it to.
Most of the time, however, God moves in little ways. When he gave the Israelites manna in the wilderness, it wasn't necessarily a "WOW!" moment. The manna showed up in the morning, after the morning dew cleared away. It showed up over and over and over again, and after a while, I'm sure it was easy to take it for granted.
I can see how God's provision in my life is the same way. Paying the bills last night wasn't a huge "WOW!" moment, but it sure was a manna moment. A moment when God quietly stretched things a bit farther, and gave us a small, unexpected blessing.
Plus, I have peppermint SneakerBalls.
Who could ask for more?
This, my friends, is a follow-up to both of those posts.
My prizes came in the mail on Monday, and I'm sorry to say that I did not win any Cedar Point tickets. Bummer.
Mike had arrived home early on Monday so he called me at work to let me know my prize package had come, and opened it up while I was on the phone with him. His comment about not getting any Cedar Point tickets was, "Well, at least we got some SneakerBalls."
Excuse me?
Yes, dear friends, one of my prizes was this:
I had never heard of such a thing. And now I am the proud owner of a pair of peppermint scented SneakerBalls. You will be happy to know that my shoes will now smell of pepperminty freshness.(I'm sure this knowledge will help you sleep a little better at night, as you were probably fretting and stewing over the condition of my shoes.)
In addition to the SneakerBalls, we received a t-shirt, some American Idol trinkets, several magnets, tickets to a baseball game (for our local minor league team), and about $50 in gift certificates. The gift certificates were the best part - there were about $25 worth of certificates to Taco Bell, KFC and McDonald's, and a $25 gift certificate for a local bison ranch.
Yep, you read that right. A company that raises bison (buffalo) and then sells the meat. We can use the gift certificate at their booth in the food court of the local farmer's market, or we can use it to buy some bison meat. We'll probably use it for a little of both. Bison is similar to beef, but is much lower in fat and calories. (Click here for more information.)
Last week I was a little miffed that my finances for the week did not go as planned, but as I wrote here, God reminded me that he's always provided for us. (In other words, "stop whining Erin!") :-)
A few days after that post, I remembered something Sara had written about, where you could get $25 for just signing up with a new online service. I decided to check it out, and guess what? I now have an extra $25 in my bank account. (Thanks, Sara!)
And then I won this silly contest on TV, and as a result, we have all of these coupons. In the past week I've received over $75 in free money/stuff. How's that for God's creative provision?
I also sat down last night to go over our finances and pay some bills, and things worked out differently than I thought they would. We somehow had a little extra, which allowed me to pay off the plumbing bill without dipping into our meager savings.
There have been many times in my life where I've wanted God to move in a big way. Sometimes he has, allowing me to see his awesome power and infinite creativity when it comes to arranging the details of my life. These big moves have often come unexpectedly, or they have come after being greatly disappointed because the big move didn't come when and how I wanted it to.
Most of the time, however, God moves in little ways. When he gave the Israelites manna in the wilderness, it wasn't necessarily a "WOW!" moment. The manna showed up in the morning, after the morning dew cleared away. It showed up over and over and over again, and after a while, I'm sure it was easy to take it for granted.
I can see how God's provision in my life is the same way. Paying the bills last night wasn't a huge "WOW!" moment, but it sure was a manna moment. A moment when God quietly stretched things a bit farther, and gave us a small, unexpected blessing.
Plus, I have peppermint SneakerBalls.
Who could ask for more?
Friday, May 16, 2008
And the winner is...
...me!
One of our local TV stations has been doing secret broadcasts for the past few weeks. Once or twice a week the co-anchors will broadcast from an unknown location and will give out clues, and then the first person to figure out their location gets a bag of prizes.
Well, today I was the winner!! Woohoo! I have no idea what I'm getting, but the producer emailed me and said they'd put my prizes in the mail ASAP. I think it will include some tickets to Cedar Point, which would make a really fun trip for Mike and I.
At least I think it will be fun. I haven't been on a roller coaster in several years and am a little afraid that I might myself in the official "I'm-too-old-for-this" category.
I say this because three years ago we went to the fair and found out that we are most definitely too old for most of the fair rides. We almost threw up after riding one of them. (Of course, the fried oreos we had consumed about 30 minutes before the ride probably didn't help.)
This morning's winning adventure has a funny little side story to it:
Our normal routine in the morning is to come downstairs, make breakfast for Kaitlyn and coffee for us, and then turn on the news and watch while we eat/drink.
So, we're sitting on the couch, I'm eating my Cheerios and Kaitlyn is eating her cinnamon waffle. This is when the TV anchors gave the second clue and I shouted, "Hey! They're at ___! I'm sure that's where they are!" I intended to pick up my laptop and send in an email guess, but at that moment Kaitlyn decided that she just *had* to have some of my cereal.
I paused to give her a few bites. It was at this point that the TV anchor started reporting the latest in the situation with Detroit's mayor. (Read here for more info.) He says the text messages sent back and forth were "private." Seriously? If you are using an electronic device issued by your employer (and especially if you are a public servant and are being payed by tax-payers), you better be aware of the fact that nothing said or written while using that device is private. I would bet that every single HR department from here to Antarctica has a policy stating that anything done on the company's equipment is the property of the company, and government employees are probably subject to even more scrutiny.
Ok, so you get my feelings on this subject. I think the whole situation is ridiculous. When the story came on the TV I looked straight at the anchor and said, "Oh my word! That is completely ridiculous!" (I said this rather forcefully. I don't think I exactly yelled it, but it probably wasn't too many decibels away from being a yell.)
This coincided with me finally having a free hand to pick up my laptop. I whipped the computer into my lap and opened it up with gusto. I began to furiously type away, searching for where I should email my guess for the contest.
And the whole time, Mike sat there and thought I was sending off an email about Detroit's mayor.
"Wow. She's really upset about this. I wonder who she's emailing - the TV station? Detroit's city council? The mayor? I can't believe this is affecting her so much."
I think he was relieved to find out that I was simply emailing the morning show.
I'll have to report back when I finally get my prizes and let you know what goodies I won!
One of our local TV stations has been doing secret broadcasts for the past few weeks. Once or twice a week the co-anchors will broadcast from an unknown location and will give out clues, and then the first person to figure out their location gets a bag of prizes.
Well, today I was the winner!! Woohoo! I have no idea what I'm getting, but the producer emailed me and said they'd put my prizes in the mail ASAP. I think it will include some tickets to Cedar Point, which would make a really fun trip for Mike and I.
At least I think it will be fun. I haven't been on a roller coaster in several years and am a little afraid that I might myself in the official "I'm-too-old-for-this" category.
I say this because three years ago we went to the fair and found out that we are most definitely too old for most of the fair rides. We almost threw up after riding one of them. (Of course, the fried oreos we had consumed about 30 minutes before the ride probably didn't help.)
This morning's winning adventure has a funny little side story to it:
Our normal routine in the morning is to come downstairs, make breakfast for Kaitlyn and coffee for us, and then turn on the news and watch while we eat/drink.
So, we're sitting on the couch, I'm eating my Cheerios and Kaitlyn is eating her cinnamon waffle. This is when the TV anchors gave the second clue and I shouted, "Hey! They're at ___! I'm sure that's where they are!" I intended to pick up my laptop and send in an email guess, but at that moment Kaitlyn decided that she just *had* to have some of my cereal.
I paused to give her a few bites. It was at this point that the TV anchor started reporting the latest in the situation with Detroit's mayor. (Read here for more info.) He says the text messages sent back and forth were "private." Seriously? If you are using an electronic device issued by your employer (and especially if you are a public servant and are being payed by tax-payers), you better be aware of the fact that nothing said or written while using that device is private. I would bet that every single HR department from here to Antarctica has a policy stating that anything done on the company's equipment is the property of the company, and government employees are probably subject to even more scrutiny.
Ok, so you get my feelings on this subject. I think the whole situation is ridiculous. When the story came on the TV I looked straight at the anchor and said, "Oh my word! That is completely ridiculous!" (I said this rather forcefully. I don't think I exactly yelled it, but it probably wasn't too many decibels away from being a yell.)
This coincided with me finally having a free hand to pick up my laptop. I whipped the computer into my lap and opened it up with gusto. I began to furiously type away, searching for where I should email my guess for the contest.
And the whole time, Mike sat there and thought I was sending off an email about Detroit's mayor.
"Wow. She's really upset about this. I wonder who she's emailing - the TV station? Detroit's city council? The mayor? I can't believe this is affecting her so much."
I think he was relieved to find out that I was simply emailing the morning show.
I'll have to report back when I finally get my prizes and let you know what goodies I won!
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Appreciating the manna days
Through a series of various events, our household budget has started to loosen up. Because I am the plan ahead type, I always have a strategy for how this extra money will be used.
This week I was excited because I didn't need to get a lot at the grocery store - I pretty much had everything on hand (aside from fresh fruits and veggies, and a few weekly staples) that I needed to make dinners for the week. I envisioned having over half of my grocery money left over, allowing us to put more money towards paying the plumbing bill. Or the dentist bill. Or renew our car registrations. Or buy a half gallon of gas, now that it's hit 3.95/gallon.
Why is it that these things all come at you at once? Sheesh!
Yesterday I went to Aldi's to finish up the grocery shopping. (By the way, I love Aldi's. I may have to devote a whole post to them sometime.) I ended up getting some extra items, and was shocked to discover that I had spent almost all of my grocery budget. How did that happen??
I was a little miffed. I was supposed to have a lot of extra money, and it seemed to vanish before my very eyes. Then I panicked a little. Not a full-blown panic because, thankfully, money isn't as tight for us right now as it has been in the past. I know that we will be ok.
But I did have a momentary freak out session because things weren't going like I had planned.
That's when God nudged me a little and reminded me that he has always provided for our needs. He also reminded me of several huge financial blessings he has given us this year.
I thought of the manna he gave the Israelites while they wandered in the desert. Every morning they woke up to manna (see Exodus 16 for the whole story) and they were instructed to only take as much as they needed for the day. Some people tried to take more, but when they woke up the next morning, the extra manna was rotten and had maggots.
God basically said, "Look - I brought you out of Egypt, out of slavery and oppression, I showed you my awesome power by bringing you through the Red Sea, I gave you this manna and told you that it will be available to you every day, and yet you doubt me so much that you try to hoard my provision?"
(FYI, in case you are thinking, "Wow - I wonder where that passage is," and you decided to try and find it in the Bible, it's a MAJOR paraphrase. It's part of what I would have said if I was God talking to the Israelites. But I'm not God, so this probably isn't quite accurate. In case you were wondering.)
God has always provided for me. As I pondered this, it struck me that I have never, not one time ever, had a day where I went hungry for lack of food. I have never wondered where my next meal would come from. I may have wondered where next week's, or next month's food would come from, but not one time have I ever opened the refrigerator or cupboard to find it empty.
I've also never been homeless. Or car-less. Sure, I've had my share of late payments, and my share of wondering how we would make our paychecks stretch for the month. But it's always worked out. God always gives us the manna we need, when we need it.
I find myself a little conflicted about our new financial position. We've paid off some things that, in the past, we wondered if we would ever see the light at the end of the tunnel. We're starting to build on our financial foundation in a way that we've never been able to in the past. In the not-too-distant future we will (hopefully) be faced with making choices about how to use our excess money wisely.
On one hand, I love this. We've worked hard to get to here.
On the other hand, I see how our financial situation at many times in the past has caused us to fall on our face before God in utter dependence of his provision. It allowed us to see him move in miraculous ways, providing financial blessings (both big and small) just when we needed them. Having only enough manna for the day made me continually turn to God with a heart that was thankful for that day's supply, and a heart that humbly asked for enough for the next day.
I wonder if having excess will cause me to become numb to the fact that I am dependent on God. I wonder if the ability to store up manna for tomorrow will send me down a path of thinking I am dependent on myself.
God eventually led the Israelites out of the manna phase, and allowed them settle in the land of milk and honey. He allowed them to prosper as a nation. I don't think he intends for any of us to always be on a manna diet, and I am certainly not saying that we shouldn't store away our surplus for the future. In fact, Proverbs 21:20 says, "In the house of the wise are stores of choice food and oil, but a foolish man devours all he has." But standing in this place where our financial "promised land" is actually visible on the horizon, where we have a surplus to store away, I find myself fearful of my human nature. I pray that the lessons learned in the desert will be remembered in the promised land.
If I was a character in the Old Testament, I suspect that this is where God would instruct me to stop and build an altar. A place to remember what he's done. A reminder for the future - something that says, "Hey, remember when we couldn't do this on our own? Remember how God did some miracles for us? Remember when we had to rely on the manna?"
In fact, God does this very thing when Joshua and the Israelites crossed the Jordan River, which marked their entry into the Promised Land:
In the meantime, I will appreciate the manna days that remain.
Yesterday I went to Aldi's to finish up the grocery shopping. (By the way, I love Aldi's. I may have to devote a whole post to them sometime.) I ended up getting some extra items, and was shocked to discover that I had spent almost all of my grocery budget. How did that happen??
I was a little miffed. I was supposed to have a lot of extra money, and it seemed to vanish before my very eyes. Then I panicked a little. Not a full-blown panic because, thankfully, money isn't as tight for us right now as it has been in the past. I know that we will be ok.
But I did have a momentary freak out session because things weren't going like I had planned.
That's when God nudged me a little and reminded me that he has always provided for our needs. He also reminded me of several huge financial blessings he has given us this year.
I thought of the manna he gave the Israelites while they wandered in the desert. Every morning they woke up to manna (see Exodus 16 for the whole story) and they were instructed to only take as much as they needed for the day. Some people tried to take more, but when they woke up the next morning, the extra manna was rotten and had maggots.
God basically said, "Look - I brought you out of Egypt, out of slavery and oppression, I showed you my awesome power by bringing you through the Red Sea, I gave you this manna and told you that it will be available to you every day, and yet you doubt me so much that you try to hoard my provision?"
(FYI, in case you are thinking, "Wow - I wonder where that passage is," and you decided to try and find it in the Bible, it's a MAJOR paraphrase. It's part of what I would have said if I was God talking to the Israelites. But I'm not God, so this probably isn't quite accurate. In case you were wondering.)
God has always provided for me. As I pondered this, it struck me that I have never, not one time ever, had a day where I went hungry for lack of food. I have never wondered where my next meal would come from. I may have wondered where next week's, or next month's food would come from, but not one time have I ever opened the refrigerator or cupboard to find it empty.
I've also never been homeless. Or car-less. Sure, I've had my share of late payments, and my share of wondering how we would make our paychecks stretch for the month. But it's always worked out. God always gives us the manna we need, when we need it.
I find myself a little conflicted about our new financial position. We've paid off some things that, in the past, we wondered if we would ever see the light at the end of the tunnel. We're starting to build on our financial foundation in a way that we've never been able to in the past. In the not-too-distant future we will (hopefully) be faced with making choices about how to use our excess money wisely.
On one hand, I love this. We've worked hard to get to here.
On the other hand, I see how our financial situation at many times in the past has caused us to fall on our face before God in utter dependence of his provision. It allowed us to see him move in miraculous ways, providing financial blessings (both big and small) just when we needed them. Having only enough manna for the day made me continually turn to God with a heart that was thankful for that day's supply, and a heart that humbly asked for enough for the next day.
I wonder if having excess will cause me to become numb to the fact that I am dependent on God. I wonder if the ability to store up manna for tomorrow will send me down a path of thinking I am dependent on myself.
God eventually led the Israelites out of the manna phase, and allowed them settle in the land of milk and honey. He allowed them to prosper as a nation. I don't think he intends for any of us to always be on a manna diet, and I am certainly not saying that we shouldn't store away our surplus for the future. In fact, Proverbs 21:20 says, "In the house of the wise are stores of choice food and oil, but a foolish man devours all he has." But standing in this place where our financial "promised land" is actually visible on the horizon, where we have a surplus to store away, I find myself fearful of my human nature. I pray that the lessons learned in the desert will be remembered in the promised land.
If I was a character in the Old Testament, I suspect that this is where God would instruct me to stop and build an altar. A place to remember what he's done. A reminder for the future - something that says, "Hey, remember when we couldn't do this on our own? Remember how God did some miracles for us? Remember when we had to rely on the manna?"
In fact, God does this very thing when Joshua and the Israelites crossed the Jordan River, which marked their entry into the Promised Land:
Joshua 4Writing this post and researching these passages from the Bible have convinced me - I need to build an altar. Not necessarily out of stones, but I at least want to find something to place in my home that will serve as a reminder.
1 When the whole nation had finished crossing the Jordan, the LORD said to Joshua, 2 "Choose twelve men from among the people, one from each tribe, 3 and tell them to take up twelve stones from the middle of the Jordan from right where the priests stood and to carry them over with you and put them down at the place where you stay tonight."
...
20 And Joshua set up at Gilgal the twelve stones they had taken out of the Jordan. 21 He said to the Israelites, "In the future when your descendants ask their fathers, 'What do these stones mean?' 22 tell them, 'Israel crossed the Jordan on dry ground.' 23 For the LORD your God dried up the Jordan before you until you had crossed over. The LORD your God did to the Jordan just what he had done to the Red Sea [b] when he dried it up before us until we had crossed over. 24 He did this so that all the peoples of the earth might know that the hand of the LORD is powerful and so that you might always fear the LORD your God."
In the meantime, I will appreciate the manna days that remain.
Friday, May 9, 2008
Car accidents: Part II
I'm back to share my second car accident story. (Here is the first story.) This second accident took place in August of 2006.
I was eight months pregnant with Kaitlyn, and had just moved to having weekly appointments with my OB because we were nearing the end. Mike attended most of my OB appointments - we would drive separately so we could both go straight to work after the appointment.
On this particular August morning we started off, exited our neighborhood, drove past the park, and approached the hospital. My appointment wasn't at the hospital, but we live quite close to it and always drive past it when heading anywhere west of our house.
The part we have to drive around is weird. There is this strange, quasi-intersection, where traffic could come from three directions, but only two of the directions have a stop sign. There is also a lot of pedestrian traffic, and a parking garage entrance right when you come around the curve. Traffic consists mostly of people coming to the hospital or to the park, so it's not a busy intersection by any stretch of the imagination.
I was driving our Grand Am and Mike was behind me in our Nissan Sentra. (Thank you, Lord, for two cars with great gas mileage!!) I came around the curve by the hospital and had to stop short because a pedestrian was crossing the street. And I generally try to avoid hitting pedestrians. (Unlike other members of my family. I need to clarify some details on a particular instance that occurred and maybe get permission to post this story sometime.)
Mike, however, did not see that I had stopped. I don't blame him for this, because, as I mentioned above, this is such a strange intersection.
This is when Mike rear-ended me.
Yes, I was rear-ended by my own husband. Here is what went through my mind in the five seconds that followed:
Oh my word. Mike just ran into me!
Am I ok? I think I'm ok. I feel ok. No harm done.
Ok, so I need to pull over because there has been an accident.
Wait, the purpose of pulling over is to get the other person's insurance info. We have the same insurance info.
So... I guess I don't need to pull over.
During this thought process I had slowed down, stopped for a second, started to take off, slowed down again, and finally I just drove off.
In the meantime there were a lot of confused people standing around. Here is what they probably said:
Person #1: "Did you see that??"
Person #2: "Yeah, that was a hit-and-run!"
Person #1: "Wait, is it really a hit-and-run if the person who got hit is the one to run?"
Persons #1 and #2: "What the....?"
Mike and I immediately connected via cell phone (what did we ever do without cell phones?!) and I assured him that I was ok. We proceeded to the doctor's office where we assessed the damage and realized that, aside from a small dent in our seven-year-old Nissan, there really wasn't anything to worry about. We went inside the office and checked in.
The appointment was going normally - see the nurse, get weighed, pee in a cup, check the blood pressure.
Hmmm... The blood pressure was up. Well, Mike just rear-ended me, so that certainly could have caused an increase in blood pressure.
This is where we had to pause and tell the nurse our accident story, because she couldn't believe it. She, of course, laughed and said that yeah, that was probably the reason for the increased blood pressure.
Then the doctor came in, took a look at my chart, and furrowed his brow. (I wouldn't normally use a phrase like "furrowed his brow", but it fits so well here. I think I'll keep it.)
He said, "Hmmmm. I'm a little concerned about your weight."
I thought, "back off, buddy. I may have gained another pound but you must remember that I am eight. months. pregnant!"
Then he said, "I see you've gained seven pounds since your last appointment." It had been ONE week since my last appointment.
I said, "WHAT? SEVEN POUNDS? There is NO WAY I've gained seven pounds in a week!"
Then he looked at my blood pressure and expressed more concern. I explained the car accident, but it was too late. He already had it in his head that we might have a problem on our hands. He decided to check my swollen feet.
The problem with checking my swollen feet is that they had been swollen since Memorial Day. I had horrible, horrible, horrible sausage feet from Memorial Day until a week or so after Kaitlyn was born (which was the day before Labor Day). I wore the same, ugly, brown pair of sandals for the entire summer. Literally, every day I wore those things. (Not that I harbor any bitterness about this. Nope. No bitterness whatsoever.)
I don't know what the doctor hoped to accomplish by checking my feet. I don't know how he could gauge whether they were more or less swollen than the week before. It would be like looking at a beach and trying to determine if there was more or less sand than there was the week before.
I once again voiced that there was NO WAY I had gained so much weight. He decided that maybe the nurse should re-weigh me.
She did, and lo and behold I had not gained ANY weight. She just happened to have a lapse in brain activity when she wrote my weight down and for whatever reason had added SEVEN pounds. SEVEN!!
This explanation, and the explanation about the car accident, did not quell my doctor's fear of pre-eclampsia. His first impression of a huge weight gain and high blood pressure had already pushed him to be concerned about my condition, so he insisted that I go for additional testing.
Because when you're pregnant, what you really need are more doctor's appointments.
Thankfully, the test came back negative. (Or maybe I mean positive. They came back negative for signs of pre-eclampsia, which was a positive thing.)
And some day we can tell Kaitlyn the story of how Daddy rear-ended Mommy while she was still in Mommy's tummy.
Moral of the story: I'm really not sure what the moral of this story should be, but my last car accident story had a moral, so I feel like this one should also end with a moral. As much as I try to come up with one, it's just not coming to me, so I have to ask you to go forth and make up your own. And if you come up with a really good one, please let me know and I'll consider adding it.
I was eight months pregnant with Kaitlyn, and had just moved to having weekly appointments with my OB because we were nearing the end. Mike attended most of my OB appointments - we would drive separately so we could both go straight to work after the appointment.
On this particular August morning we started off, exited our neighborhood, drove past the park, and approached the hospital. My appointment wasn't at the hospital, but we live quite close to it and always drive past it when heading anywhere west of our house.
The part we have to drive around is weird. There is this strange, quasi-intersection, where traffic could come from three directions, but only two of the directions have a stop sign. There is also a lot of pedestrian traffic, and a parking garage entrance right when you come around the curve. Traffic consists mostly of people coming to the hospital or to the park, so it's not a busy intersection by any stretch of the imagination.
I was driving our Grand Am and Mike was behind me in our Nissan Sentra. (Thank you, Lord, for two cars with great gas mileage!!) I came around the curve by the hospital and had to stop short because a pedestrian was crossing the street. And I generally try to avoid hitting pedestrians. (Unlike other members of my family. I need to clarify some details on a particular instance that occurred and maybe get permission to post this story sometime.)
Mike, however, did not see that I had stopped. I don't blame him for this, because, as I mentioned above, this is such a strange intersection.
This is when Mike rear-ended me.
Yes, I was rear-ended by my own husband. Here is what went through my mind in the five seconds that followed:
Oh my word. Mike just ran into me!
Am I ok? I think I'm ok. I feel ok. No harm done.
Ok, so I need to pull over because there has been an accident.
Wait, the purpose of pulling over is to get the other person's insurance info. We have the same insurance info.
So... I guess I don't need to pull over.
During this thought process I had slowed down, stopped for a second, started to take off, slowed down again, and finally I just drove off.
In the meantime there were a lot of confused people standing around. Here is what they probably said:
Person #1: "Did you see that??"
Person #2: "Yeah, that was a hit-and-run!"
Person #1: "Wait, is it really a hit-and-run if the person who got hit is the one to run?"
Persons #1 and #2: "What the....?"
Mike and I immediately connected via cell phone (what did we ever do without cell phones?!) and I assured him that I was ok. We proceeded to the doctor's office where we assessed the damage and realized that, aside from a small dent in our seven-year-old Nissan, there really wasn't anything to worry about. We went inside the office and checked in.
The appointment was going normally - see the nurse, get weighed, pee in a cup, check the blood pressure.
Hmmm... The blood pressure was up. Well, Mike just rear-ended me, so that certainly could have caused an increase in blood pressure.
This is where we had to pause and tell the nurse our accident story, because she couldn't believe it. She, of course, laughed and said that yeah, that was probably the reason for the increased blood pressure.
Then the doctor came in, took a look at my chart, and furrowed his brow. (I wouldn't normally use a phrase like "furrowed his brow", but it fits so well here. I think I'll keep it.)
He said, "Hmmmm. I'm a little concerned about your weight."
I thought, "back off, buddy. I may have gained another pound but you must remember that I am eight. months. pregnant!"
Then he said, "I see you've gained seven pounds since your last appointment." It had been ONE week since my last appointment.
I said, "WHAT? SEVEN POUNDS? There is NO WAY I've gained seven pounds in a week!"
Then he looked at my blood pressure and expressed more concern. I explained the car accident, but it was too late. He already had it in his head that we might have a problem on our hands. He decided to check my swollen feet.
The problem with checking my swollen feet is that they had been swollen since Memorial Day. I had horrible, horrible, horrible sausage feet from Memorial Day until a week or so after Kaitlyn was born (which was the day before Labor Day). I wore the same, ugly, brown pair of sandals for the entire summer. Literally, every day I wore those things. (Not that I harbor any bitterness about this. Nope. No bitterness whatsoever.)
I don't know what the doctor hoped to accomplish by checking my feet. I don't know how he could gauge whether they were more or less swollen than the week before. It would be like looking at a beach and trying to determine if there was more or less sand than there was the week before.
I once again voiced that there was NO WAY I had gained so much weight. He decided that maybe the nurse should re-weigh me.
She did, and lo and behold I had not gained ANY weight. She just happened to have a lapse in brain activity when she wrote my weight down and for whatever reason had added SEVEN pounds. SEVEN!!
This explanation, and the explanation about the car accident, did not quell my doctor's fear of pre-eclampsia. His first impression of a huge weight gain and high blood pressure had already pushed him to be concerned about my condition, so he insisted that I go for additional testing.
Because when you're pregnant, what you really need are more doctor's appointments.
Thankfully, the test came back negative. (Or maybe I mean positive. They came back negative for signs of pre-eclampsia, which was a positive thing.)
And some day we can tell Kaitlyn the story of how Daddy rear-ended Mommy while she was still in Mommy's tummy.
Moral of the story: I'm really not sure what the moral of this story should be, but my last car accident story had a moral, so I feel like this one should also end with a moral. As much as I try to come up with one, it's just not coming to me, so I have to ask you to go forth and make up your own. And if you come up with a really good one, please let me know and I'll consider adding it.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
And then God smacked me on the forehead (like on those V8 commercials)
Ok, so as you can probably imagine, God didn't really smack me on the forehead. But it sounded like a good way to describe it.
Are you confused? Sorry about that... Let me start over from the beginning.
On Tuesday night, Mike was leading some training at the church for the Love-in-Action children's outreach that he oversees. It was night 2 of 3 that he would be gone in the evening, due both to Love-in-Action and to the softball team he's helping to coach.
I was at home having a small pity party for myself.
I was annoyed at how his activities had affected me. Not that I was annoyed at him for being involved in these things - I was just annoyed at the busy-ness they had thrust upon our lives. It changes how I have to think about dinner plans, and grocery shopping plans, and my plan for what I will accomplish in the evening.
Me, me, MEEE!
I was sitting on the couch sulking when God did the equivalent of a mental smack-down. If this had been written in letter form, here is what it might have said:
This reminds me of Colossians 3:12, which tells us to "...clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience." When I put on my clothes in the morning, it is intentional. The clothes don't just fly out of my closet and attach themselves to my body - I must decide what to wear, and then I must physically put those clothes on.
My attitude is the same way. I must first decide what type of attitude I will wear. And then I must put that attitude on.
Mike was 30 minutes late in getting home on Tuesday night. Instead of thrusting Kaitlyn at him when he first walked through the door and acting huffy and annoyed because his lateness put a crimp in my plans, I put on at attitude of joy and offered to make him dinner. I asked how the training went, and was genuinely excited when he gave me all the details.
It's amazing what a difference your attitude can make.
Here and here are two more posts related to this topic. The first one influenced my "duh!" moment and the second one, which I read today, reinforced it.
Are you confused? Sorry about that... Let me start over from the beginning.
On Tuesday night, Mike was leading some training at the church for the Love-in-Action children's outreach that he oversees. It was night 2 of 3 that he would be gone in the evening, due both to Love-in-Action and to the softball team he's helping to coach.
I was at home having a small pity party for myself.
I was annoyed at how his activities had affected me. Not that I was annoyed at him for being involved in these things - I was just annoyed at the busy-ness they had thrust upon our lives. It changes how I have to think about dinner plans, and grocery shopping plans, and my plan for what I will accomplish in the evening.
Me, me, MEEE!
I was sitting on the couch sulking when God did the equivalent of a mental smack-down. If this had been written in letter form, here is what it might have said:
Dear Erin,Talk about an attitude adjustment! I realized how selfish I was being. I realized that God had given me a ministry (exactly what I've been asking for) and here I was, whining about it. Refusing to see it because my life has somehow become all about ME.
For the past several months you have lamented over the fact that you aren't involved in a ministry of any sort, aside from volunteering once a month in the church nursery. I don't fault you for not being involved, because the first ministry I have called you to is taking care of your husband and daughter. I know you desire to give more, because you have told me this many times.
My dear child, do you not see the opportunity I have placed in front of your very eyes? Do you not see your part in making Love-in-Action possible? You are involved in the Love-in-Action outreach - if you weren't taking care of things here at home, Mike wouldn't be free to lead this program. And while we're at it, don't you see that Mike's involvement with the girls on the softball team is also an outreach - an opportunity for Mike to show them my love?
When you sit here and grumble and complain, and then greet Mike with this attitude when he walks through the door, don't you see the consequences of that?
Just something to think about.
Love,
God
This reminds me of Colossians 3:12, which tells us to "...clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience." When I put on my clothes in the morning, it is intentional. The clothes don't just fly out of my closet and attach themselves to my body - I must decide what to wear, and then I must physically put those clothes on.
My attitude is the same way. I must first decide what type of attitude I will wear. And then I must put that attitude on.
Mike was 30 minutes late in getting home on Tuesday night. Instead of thrusting Kaitlyn at him when he first walked through the door and acting huffy and annoyed because his lateness put a crimp in my plans, I put on at attitude of joy and offered to make him dinner. I asked how the training went, and was genuinely excited when he gave me all the details.
It's amazing what a difference your attitude can make.
Here and here are two more posts related to this topic. The first one influenced my "duh!" moment and the second one, which I read today, reinforced it.
Monday, May 5, 2008
The best and the worst, part II
The best part of today:
Laying on the couch with Kaitlyn, who was in the process of falling asleep, and having her suddenly look up, pull her binky out of her mouth, and move in for a kiss.
The worst part of today:
Going through the Chick-fil-a drive thru to get my beloved Diet Dr. Pepper and then realizing that my stupid little drink holder was too small to hold it securly. I perched the DDP in/on the drink holder and got almost the whole way back to work... As I turned the corner to drive onto campus, the DDP tipped and fell beneath my feet. I pulled to the side of the road and picked it up, thankful to see that not much spilled out.
That's when I noticed that it appeared to be leaking from the bottom. It was leaking a lot. I grabbed the napkins to try and stop the hemmoraging, and raced towards the parking lot. My napkins were quickly soaked and I decided there was no way I had time to park in staff parking and make the walk to my building - I had to go for the forbidden visitor parking in front of the building. If I got a ticket I would calmly explain my serious DDP emergency - I'm sure campus safety would understand.
I parked the car, opened the door, and thrust my hand (with the DDP) out over the pavement. I noticed that the cup wasn't leaking from the bottom - it was leaking from the side and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. I hurridly gathered my things, including a Diet Coke for Sherry, who had, unfortunately, spilled half of a Diet Coke all over her desk first thing in the morning. This was not our day for keeping Diet Soda in-tact.
I ran to the building, ran up the two flights of stairs, and dripped DDP the whole way. Fortunately, our office has a sink, and we have plastic cups, so I was able to quickly pour the rest of the DDP into two plastic cups. Whew.
I was sad to lose 1/4 of my precious DDP, but you will be happy to know that I made it through the rest of my day without too much of a problem.
Laying on the couch with Kaitlyn, who was in the process of falling asleep, and having her suddenly look up, pull her binky out of her mouth, and move in for a kiss.
The worst part of today:
Going through the Chick-fil-a drive thru to get my beloved Diet Dr. Pepper and then realizing that my stupid little drink holder was too small to hold it securly. I perched the DDP in/on the drink holder and got almost the whole way back to work... As I turned the corner to drive onto campus, the DDP tipped and fell beneath my feet. I pulled to the side of the road and picked it up, thankful to see that not much spilled out.
That's when I noticed that it appeared to be leaking from the bottom. It was leaking a lot. I grabbed the napkins to try and stop the hemmoraging, and raced towards the parking lot. My napkins were quickly soaked and I decided there was no way I had time to park in staff parking and make the walk to my building - I had to go for the forbidden visitor parking in front of the building. If I got a ticket I would calmly explain my serious DDP emergency - I'm sure campus safety would understand.
I parked the car, opened the door, and thrust my hand (with the DDP) out over the pavement. I noticed that the cup wasn't leaking from the bottom - it was leaking from the side and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. I hurridly gathered my things, including a Diet Coke for Sherry, who had, unfortunately, spilled half of a Diet Coke all over her desk first thing in the morning. This was not our day for keeping Diet Soda in-tact.
I ran to the building, ran up the two flights of stairs, and dripped DDP the whole way. Fortunately, our office has a sink, and we have plastic cups, so I was able to quickly pour the rest of the DDP into two plastic cups. Whew.
I was sad to lose 1/4 of my precious DDP, but you will be happy to know that I made it through the rest of my day without too much of a problem.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Menu Plan Monday - Week of 5/5/08
I didn't get a MPM post done last week, but I want to make sure and mention that I made these sloppy joes. (Thanks to Sara for sharing the recipe!) These are more work than opening up a can and mixing it with browned ground beef, but the work is sooooo worth it. The recipe makes enough for us to get several meals out of it.
Ok, now on to this week's meals:
Pork roast (made in the slow cooker, save half for pork BBQ later in the week) with au gratin potatoes
Chicken tacos (see this post for the recipe)
Breakfast for dinner - eggs, hash browns, sausage (maybe made into burritos using tortillas left over from the chicken tacos)
Pork BBQ sandwiches
Grilled chicken (marinated in Italian dressing) and grilled veggies
Visit orgjunkie.com for more meal ideas!
Ok, now on to this week's meals:
Pork roast (made in the slow cooker, save half for pork BBQ later in the week) with au gratin potatoes
Chicken tacos (see this post for the recipe)
Breakfast for dinner - eggs, hash browns, sausage (maybe made into burritos using tortillas left over from the chicken tacos)
Pork BBQ sandwiches
Grilled chicken (marinated in Italian dressing) and grilled veggies
Visit orgjunkie.com for more meal ideas!
What I'm doing right now
- Watching political ads. For the first time I can remember (which isn't really saying a lot, mind you) Indiana actually counts in a presidential primary. While it's nice to matter, I'm tired of the Hillary/Obama commercials.
- Watching America's Funniest Home Videos (in between the political ads). Kaitlyn LOVES this show. She loves to laugh at just the right time and say "Oh gawsh!" I never ever realized how much I say "Oh my gosh" until she started immitating me. It's scary to think what other habits she might immitate.
- Watching Kaitlyn do laps around the coffee table while saying "Ruuuuuuuun! Ruuuun! Ruuuun!" Just watching her makes me tired. Hopefully this means she'll sleep better tonight than she did last night.
Friday, May 2, 2008
And then Mr. & Mrs. Jiggles lived happily ever after
Last night Mike and I had quite a conversation about movies. Here is how it all went down:
We were lounging on the couch watching TV. It was late, and I had been tired all evening, so my brain was functioning in that weird zone where everything is funnier and more distorted than normal. One of us (I don't remember who) mentioned that it had been a while since we've been on a date night, and we need to plan one for the near future.
This always leads to discussing what movies are playing, and which ones we might want to see.
This is when a commercial for the "27 Dresses" DVD came on.
Me: Did we go see that together?
Mike: No.
Me: Really? I know I saw it with someone. It was a great movie.
Mike: Yeah, I'm sure it's great. Just like "Music and Lyrics" was a great movie. [insert sarcasm]
Me: Come on! It wasn't that bad.
Mike: I would have fallen asleep if it hadn't been for cologne man.
When we go to the movies we seem to be magnets for people with boundary issues. At "Music and Lyrics" our original seating arrangement was this:
Aisle, Seat 1, Seat 2, Mike, Erin, the rest of the empty row.
Right before the movie started an older woman came and sat in Seat 1. About 2/3 of the way through the movie, cologne man entered the theater (which was probably less than 1/2 full), approached our row, climbed over the lady in Seat 1, and sat down in Seat 2. The first problem was he was wearing way too much cologne. (Hence, his nickname.) The second problem was he was clearly violating a major rule of the Man Code - the one about leaving a seat between yourself and any other man in the theater. Especially a stranger.
I thought maybe he knew the lady in Seat 1, and was late in meeting her at the movie. But about five minutes before the movie ended, cologne man got up and left. He never said a word to the lady in Seat 1, so obviously they had no connection.
I have so many questions about this - why would you enter a movie that was 2/3 over, and then choose a seat where you would be sandwiched between two strangers? And then leave before the end of the movie? Weird.
So Mike and I reminisced about cologne man, and Mike continued to express what a horrible movie experience it was.
Mike: You owe me for that one.
Me: What do you mean, "I owe you"?
Mike: I mean, I should get to pick a movie that I want to see but you don't.
Me: There is one major problem with this plan: I actually like all of the movies you like.
Mike thought about this for a moment, and realized (of course) that I was right. I like action movies, murder mysteries, superhero movies, science fiction movies, comedies, etc. (I will even happily watch MythBusters, Dirty Jobs, and The Deadliest Catch with him. And I like football.) This put quite a damper on his evil plan.
Mike: Ok, what about horror movies?
Me: Do you really want to watch horror movies?
Mike: Maybe.
Me: You know they give me nightmares. Do you want me to have nightmares? Is that what you want for your wife?
Mike: But I'm right there in the bed with you, to comfort you if you have one.
(pause, while I give him a wifely look)
Mike: Ok, fine. No horror movies.
Me: You have to admit, I don't make you watch chick flicks all that often. I could make you watch the five-hour version of "Pride and Prejudice."
Mike: Hey - I already watched that with you!
Me: Nuh-uh.
Mike: Yes! Yes I did! I sat through that whole thing!
Me: When??
Mike: Before we were married. We watched it at your parent's house.
Me: I don't remember that. I don't know if I believe you. Tell me what it's about.
Mike: Well, I know it has that one guy in it. What was his name? Mr. something. Mr. ... Mr. ... Mr. Jiggles. Or something like that.
This is when I lost it. I absolutely positively lost it. I almost choked because of the amount of laughter trying to escape my body all at one time.
Me: [laughing hysterically, gasping for air]
Mike: Isn't that his name? It was something weird like that.
Me: [through my gasping, coughing, laughing fit] Mister. [gasp] Jiggles. [cough] Haaaaaaahahahaha!
I was trying to imagine a Jane Austin character named Mr. Jiggles. The only thing that came to mind was some sort of SNL skit starring Will Ferrell as Mr. Jiggles.
Mike: [looking perplexed] Well, what was his name?
Me: It [cough] was [gasp], Mr. [more gasping] ... Mr. Jiggles! Ha! Where did you get Mr. Jiggles???
Mike: [getting annoyed] WHAT was his name? You know, the one the girls wanted to marry.
Me: Are you thinking of Mr. Bingley?
Mike: Mr. WHO? Bingley? You're telling me that is better than Mr. Jiggles?
Me: [still laughing/gasping/coughing] Or were you thinking of Mr. Darcy?
Mike: Mr. Darcy! Yes!
Me: How did you go from Darcy to Jiggles? [more laughing, more coughing] I don't understand.
[annoyed look from Mike]
Mike: Wasn't he the one that wanted to marry the girl, but she couldn't marry him because of the other girl, and there was that other guy that all the girls wanted to marry, and there were all the sisters...
Me: [still laughing] I think you just described most of Jane Austin's books.
Mike: Well, anyway, I sat through that movie. All five hours of it. You owe me, like, five movies for that.
Me: No, it doesn't really count because we were engaged. You were still trying to impress me.
Mike: It does too count!
Me: Ok, fine, whatever.
[30 second pause]
Me: [bursting into a fit of laughter] Mr. Jiggles!!!!!!!! Haaaaaaaaaaahahahaha!
We were lounging on the couch watching TV. It was late, and I had been tired all evening, so my brain was functioning in that weird zone where everything is funnier and more distorted than normal. One of us (I don't remember who) mentioned that it had been a while since we've been on a date night, and we need to plan one for the near future.
This always leads to discussing what movies are playing, and which ones we might want to see.
This is when a commercial for the "27 Dresses" DVD came on.
Me: Did we go see that together?
Mike: No.
Me: Really? I know I saw it with someone. It was a great movie.
Mike: Yeah, I'm sure it's great. Just like "Music and Lyrics" was a great movie. [insert sarcasm]
Me: Come on! It wasn't that bad.
Mike: I would have fallen asleep if it hadn't been for cologne man.
When we go to the movies we seem to be magnets for people with boundary issues. At "Music and Lyrics" our original seating arrangement was this:
Aisle, Seat 1, Seat 2, Mike, Erin, the rest of the empty row.
Right before the movie started an older woman came and sat in Seat 1. About 2/3 of the way through the movie, cologne man entered the theater (which was probably less than 1/2 full), approached our row, climbed over the lady in Seat 1, and sat down in Seat 2. The first problem was he was wearing way too much cologne. (Hence, his nickname.) The second problem was he was clearly violating a major rule of the Man Code - the one about leaving a seat between yourself and any other man in the theater. Especially a stranger.
I thought maybe he knew the lady in Seat 1, and was late in meeting her at the movie. But about five minutes before the movie ended, cologne man got up and left. He never said a word to the lady in Seat 1, so obviously they had no connection.
I have so many questions about this - why would you enter a movie that was 2/3 over, and then choose a seat where you would be sandwiched between two strangers? And then leave before the end of the movie? Weird.
So Mike and I reminisced about cologne man, and Mike continued to express what a horrible movie experience it was.
Mike: You owe me for that one.
Me: What do you mean, "I owe you"?
Mike: I mean, I should get to pick a movie that I want to see but you don't.
Me: There is one major problem with this plan: I actually like all of the movies you like.
Mike thought about this for a moment, and realized (of course) that I was right. I like action movies, murder mysteries, superhero movies, science fiction movies, comedies, etc. (I will even happily watch MythBusters, Dirty Jobs, and The Deadliest Catch with him. And I like football.) This put quite a damper on his evil plan.
Mike: Ok, what about horror movies?
Me: Do you really want to watch horror movies?
Mike: Maybe.
Me: You know they give me nightmares. Do you want me to have nightmares? Is that what you want for your wife?
Mike: But I'm right there in the bed with you, to comfort you if you have one.
(pause, while I give him a wifely look)
Mike: Ok, fine. No horror movies.
Me: You have to admit, I don't make you watch chick flicks all that often. I could make you watch the five-hour version of "Pride and Prejudice."
Mike: Hey - I already watched that with you!
Me: Nuh-uh.
Mike: Yes! Yes I did! I sat through that whole thing!
Me: When??
Mike: Before we were married. We watched it at your parent's house.
Me: I don't remember that. I don't know if I believe you. Tell me what it's about.
Mike: Well, I know it has that one guy in it. What was his name? Mr. something. Mr. ... Mr. ... Mr. Jiggles. Or something like that.
This is when I lost it. I absolutely positively lost it. I almost choked because of the amount of laughter trying to escape my body all at one time.
Me: [laughing hysterically, gasping for air]
Mike: Isn't that his name? It was something weird like that.
Me: [through my gasping, coughing, laughing fit] Mister. [gasp] Jiggles. [cough] Haaaaaaahahahaha!
I was trying to imagine a Jane Austin character named Mr. Jiggles. The only thing that came to mind was some sort of SNL skit starring Will Ferrell as Mr. Jiggles.
Mike: [looking perplexed] Well, what was his name?
Me: It [cough] was [gasp], Mr. [more gasping] ... Mr. Jiggles! Ha! Where did you get Mr. Jiggles???
Mike: [getting annoyed] WHAT was his name? You know, the one the girls wanted to marry.
Me: Are you thinking of Mr. Bingley?
Mike: Mr. WHO? Bingley? You're telling me that is better than Mr. Jiggles?
Me: [still laughing/gasping/coughing] Or were you thinking of Mr. Darcy?
Mike: Mr. Darcy! Yes!
Me: How did you go from Darcy to Jiggles? [more laughing, more coughing] I don't understand.
[annoyed look from Mike]
Mike: Wasn't he the one that wanted to marry the girl, but she couldn't marry him because of the other girl, and there was that other guy that all the girls wanted to marry, and there were all the sisters...
Me: [still laughing] I think you just described most of Jane Austin's books.
Mike: Well, anyway, I sat through that movie. All five hours of it. You owe me, like, five movies for that.
Me: No, it doesn't really count because we were engaged. You were still trying to impress me.
Mike: It does too count!
Me: Ok, fine, whatever.
[30 second pause]
Me: [bursting into a fit of laughter] Mr. Jiggles!!!!!!!! Haaaaaaaaaaahahahaha!
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