Avily Jerome

NAF Blog

2010-10-08T00:42:00.001-07:00

I just posted a new blog on my joint blog, New Authors Fellowship. Come read it here!

New Authors Fellowship

Thanks!

New Authors Fellowship

2010-08-30T11:17:00.000-07:00

Hello! To all of you who follow or have followed my blog in the past, I apologize for having been absent for so long.

This month marks a new phase in my family's life, as my husband and I made the decision to put our children in private school. As a side effect, I am hoping to have more time to work on things like writing and blogging, so please stay tuned for more!

Also, a fantastic development in my writing journey, I have been invited to join a group blog, the New Authors Fellowship, a blog featuring the as-yet unpublished authors of Christian Speculative fiction. I'll be posting there once a week or so, along with (I hope) resuming regular postings on this blog.

Please come check out the wonderful posts of my fellow Fellowshippers here! And if you want to read my first post on that blog, chronicling the mental gymnastics I went through to make the decision to put my kids in school, read School Daze.

And to read my latest blog entry, Click Here.

Thanks folks! See you soon!

Mommy Rhapsody

2010-06-19T19:00:00.000-07:00

I just thought this was too cute not to share! Enjoy!

Blog Interview with Shawna Kail Williams

2010-05-10T08:10:00.000-07:00

Greetings, Chums!

I am so thrilled today to be able to interview my lovely friend Shawna Kail Williams.

I had the privilege of meeting Shawna through a critique group, and have been able to enjoy watching as she has gone through the rigors of the publishing world to have her novel published. It is a pleasure and a privilege to have her on my blog today.

Let's get started!

Welcome, Shawna! Could you tell us a little bit about yourself?

Sure! I'm a Christian, a wife to a wonderful man and mom to three amazing kiddos. We live on a ranch in Mena, AR, and have an extended family of cattle, horses, goats, rabbits, cats, and dogs. I'm a writer (duh...), a homeschooling mom, and I design jewelry. I'm also interested in geology and history, and I love dogs and old houses.

When did you start writing? Why?

I started writing eight years ago after I had a really bizarre dream. The dream was like a story, and it came in "scenes," if you will, with me sometimes observing and sometimes as one of the characters (that's how I've come to think of the people in this dream). The whole thing made so much sense that I found myself thinking about it, all of the time, for about six months as I tried to fill in the periods between "scenes". It finally became so complicated that I had to start writing it out. It eventually turned into a very long and horrible book that sat as a file in my computer for a few years. Every so often I'd get the urge to revise it and attempt to make it better, and while doing that I'd think, "Maybe I'll try to get it published," but then I'd chicken out. This went on for six years, and then two years ago I decided to get serious. I started with books about writing, and then critique groups (Youch!), more books, more critiques. Finally, I started submitting short stories and did pretty well with the few I wrote, getting published fairly quick. This gave me the encouragement to keep after the book.

In essence, that dream is now two books. The first, No Other, has just released, and In All Things comes out in November of this year.

While my writing started because of that dream, I now have a head full of ideas. I also have a third book, not related to the dream, which will be published in December of this year. It's called Orphaned Hearts.

No Other is your newest release. Can you give us a glimpse into the book?

Absolutely!
No Other is a 20th Century Historical, Inspirational Romance. It’s set in a coastal Texas town during 1947, a couple of years after WWII. I really enjoyed writing a story set in this time period because, instead of focusing on how the nation recovered in broad terms, I was able to focus on how individuals set about recovering emotionally from such an event.

Jakob is trying to resume life and deal with his anger over the events of the past five years. His parents are German immigrants who were interned at a camp known as Crystal City during the war. As an American born child he feels betrayed and angry, not just at his community, but at himself because of an incident that he was involved in which he feels may have contributed to their arrest.
Jakob was forced to quit school in order to care for his younger sibling during the war. With the war ended and life beginning to settle, he decides to go back to school and get his diploma so he can move on to bigger and better dreams. It’s immediately awkward though because one of his teachers is a girl he previously went to high school with.

Meri comes from an affluent and socially elite family. She’s a dutiful daughter but also conflicted. On the one hand she desperately wants her parents approval — that’s the only time they offer her their love — on the other hand, she wants to be free of the control they exert over her life.

As friendship blooms and feelings develop Meri begins to understand what real love is supposed to be, and Jakob, seeing the pain her family has caused her, wants to shelter her from more. Of course, the first big obstacle is that because of the nature of their situation (her being his teacher) any type of romantic relationship is unethical, and then there’s also the social issues to consider. Meri and Jakob decide to pursue a secret romance, in which lies lead them to trouble in more ways than one. And I’ll leave the rest as a mystery.

Here's a link to the blurb and excerpt on my publisher's site.

http://stores.desertbreezepublishing.com/-strse-86/No-Other/Detail.bok

Do you plot things out, or do you write "by the seat of your pants"?

A little of both. I have to have an idea of the story, including its conclusion. I write out a summary just to get an idea of the story's framework. Then I write my first draft, which is horrible. I'm a character writer, so my stories focus a great deal on the hero and heroine's internal journey. My first drafts tend to ramble and meander with all sorts of emotional pondering, not unlike a therapy session. This helps me to nail down what my character's struggles are. It gives me an idea of what they need, and how to get them there.

Once I've done this I go back and start the rewrite. I take this on a chapter by chapter basis, writing out the goals I need to achieve to keep the story progressing. Then I go back and edit. During this process I try to weave everything together as tight as possible, and also look for any missed opportunities to strengthen the overall theme.

How do you develop your characters?

To me, characters are what make or break a story. Characters are who we experience a story through and if they aren't interesting and relatable, then no matter how intriguing the plot, a huge facet to the story is lost.

Now, I know some authors do character sketches involving the looks and profession of their characters. While this works for some, I don't do this. To me this is surface stuff and it has little to do with the person I want to convey. These details actually fill in themselves as the character evolves anyway. I like to focus on my characters history. This sometimes, as with Jakob, necessitated me going to great depths to uncover his family's history. Most of this stuff never makes it into the book in the form of information, but it does make it into the book in the way it frames my character's mind set, mannerisms, insecurities.

I'll use Jakob as an example again. One of the things I found interesting about him was his duel culture. He grew up in a family that was thoroughly German, in a town that was thoroughly Texan, and he's thoroughly both. The clash of these two cultures cause a bit of an identity crises in him in the sense that the betrayal he feels over his family's internement because of their German heritage is harder for him to fathom when he's American, and Texan to boot. Yet, when he speaks to his parents its perfect German, and many of his fondest childhood memories involve the culture. In the midst of war he wonders if that's something to be ashamed of. So...you can imagine, this story begins with a character already caught up in a whirlwind of internal struggle.

Now Meri...This girl's got issues, and quite a backstory of her own! I'm not giving that away though. Hopefully a few people will be curious enough to read the book.

Do you have any advice for aspiring authors?

Sure. Be true to yourself. You need to learn the craft, but don't lose your voice in the process. There's a balance between what you can take away from a critique group in order to hone your skills, and trying to heed so much advice that you end up losing what makes you unique. Rules are good, but in the words of Captain Jack Sparrow, "They're more like guidelines anyway."

Favorite book?

The Mark of the Lion series. I can't really choose between the three.

Favorite Movie?

Urr...I don't know. It depends on my mood. There are several movies I can practically quote though, and if I stumble upon them on tv I'm compelled to watch. They are Oh Brother Where Ar't Thou, Galaxy Quest, and Notting Hill. The line in Notting Hill, "I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her," gets me every time. I also rather adore the movies Ever After, and Enchanted.

Favorite Food?

I love grilled Salmon!

Any parting words?

I'll use this opportunity to say one more thing about my book – what I feel makes it special. When I first started searching for publishers, I knew that the content in No Other would make it hard to place. In the story there are some major failings on the part of the main characters, but mostly I'd say Jakob, since he is a Christian and Meri isn't. But my reason for writing No Other was that I wanted to tell an inspirational story about getting up after you fall. About how Christians don't just struggle, sometimes we blow it, but God doesn't abandon us. Even when our efforts to right things fail, He's still in control. Him, and No Other.

And if you read the book, and notice a couple of things left a little uncertain at the end, including a promise Jakob makes that might seem somewhat misguided, well, that's what the sequel is for.

Avily, I want to give away a Kindle download, or other ebook format depending on the winner's preference. Along with that I'd like to mail the winner a freshwater pearl/inspirational bracelet, and a signed postcard. (however you want to do the drawing for this is up to you)

Also, for the month of May I'm running a contest with three prizes – a Good one, a Great one, and a Grand one. You can enter multiple times, the details are here. http://shawnawilliams-oldsmobile.blogspot.com/p/no-other-prize-drawing-details.html
Anyone leaving a comment today gets one entry (please leave your email. I promise these will all be destroyed after the drawing) And, if you can answer this question you get another entry.

What three letters were left on the envelope after Jakob burned it?

The answer can be found in the first chapter, viewable on my blog, here. http://noother-shawnawilliams.blogspot.com/
Or through Freado, where you can also read the first four chapters. http://www.freado.com/read/6928/no-other-by-shawna-k-williams
Or through the free sample available as a Kindle download.
http://www.amazon.com/No-Other-ebook/dp/B003K15MY0/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1272736275&sr=1-1

Here are links where to find me.
http://shawnakwilliams.com/
http://shawnawilliams-oldsmobile.blogspot.com/
http://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Shawna-K-Williams/236629884245?ref=ts
http://twitter.com/shawnakwilliams

And here is a link to the trailer
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AVxeR7yeztw

Thanks so much for being here today, Shawna! I look forward to reading your book. And Readers, don't forget to leave a comment with your email (I recommend a format such as avilyjerome[at]hotmail[dot]com to prevent spamming) for a chance to win a free copy of this book!

Happy Mother's Day!

2010-05-08T22:47:00.000-07:00

To all you Mommies and Mommies-to-Be out there, this is for you!

I couldn't find the video for this one, although I know it exists because I've seen it, but here's a fun Mother's Day story:

A man came home from work and found his three children outside, all still in their pajamas, playing in the mud with empty food boxes and wrappers strewn all around. The front door was open, as was the door to his wife's car, and there was no sign of the dog.

Proceeding into the entry, he found an even bigger mess. A lamp had been knocked over and the throw rug was wadded up in one corner.

In the front room, the TV was blaring a cartoon channel, the family room was strewn with toys and various articles of clothing.

In the kitchen, dishes filled the sink, breakfast food was spilled on the counter, the fridge was open wide, dog food littered the floor, a broken glass lay under the table, and a small pile of sand was spread by the back door.

He quickly headed up the stairs, stepping over toys and more piles of clothes, looking for his wife. He worried she might be ill, or something serious had happened. He was met with a small trickle of water as it made its way out the bathroom door.

As he peered inside he found wet towels, more toys, and scummy soap all over the floor. Miles of toilet paper lay in a heap and toothpaste had been smeared on the mirror and walls.

Rushing to the bedroom, he found his wife curled up in bed, still wearing her pajamas, reading a novel. She looked up at him, smiled, and asked how his day went.

Bewildered, he asked, "What happened here today?"

She smiled again and asked, "You know every day when you come home from work and ask what in the world I did all day?"

"Yes," came his incredulous reply.

"Well, today I didn't do it."

Happy Mother's Day, Moms! Keep up the great work!

Word Game Wednesday

2010-05-05T07:53:00.001-07:00

Build a Story

I'm taking my kids to the zoo today, so today's story is going to have a zoo theme.

Rules: Add one sentence at a time, no profanity or anything graphic please. Come back throughout the day to add more. No limit to the number of sentences you add! The story can be taken in any direction--romance, mystery, fantasy, adventure--however you want to change it, it's up to you!

Here's the first sentence to get us started:

The day Georgia went to the zoo, something shocking happened.

Your turn! Have fun!

Sermon Notes

2010-05-03T08:42:00.000-07:00

In church, we're going through the book of II Timothy. Yesterday the passage was from chapter 3, verses 10-15. The title of the sermon was "Determined Disciples." I really loved this because it really emphasizes that spiritual maturity does not come by accident.

One thing he said that I thought made this point beautifully, is that our conduct is based on our purpose. If we believe our purpose in life is to please ourselves and fulfill our own desires, then we will conduct ourselves accordingly.

If, however, we see our purpose in life as pleasing God and bringing glory to Him, we will act in a way that demonstrates that. The only way we'll persevere in our daily lives is if we truly believe that it is a part of our purpose.

This fits in beautifully with another concept I read just this week, as well. I'm mentoring a girl from church, and we're going through the book "Lies Women Believe" by Nancy Leigh DeMoss. FANTASTIC book, by the way.

Anyway, the most recent chapter was "Lies Women Believe About Themselves." One of those lies is, "I Should Not Have to Live with Unfulfilled Longings." One thing she said is, "If we could have all our longings fulfilled down here, we would easily be satisfied with staying here, and our hearts would never long for a better place... God has made us in such a way that we can never be truly satisfied with anything or anyone less than Himself."

As I pondered that and really thought about what that means, and and began to apply it in light of this week's sermon, I began to realize that it is okay not to have everything I want here and now. Our culture places a very high emphasis on instant gratification, but by not spending all my time striving for what I want, I am not only fulfilling my purpose in life, but I am proving my purpose by looking forward to a fulfillment that is impossible in this life.

As you go out today, I encourage you to examine your purpose in life. Is pleasing yourself all there is to life? How is that working out? Are you fulfilled?

Or, is there something nagging at you, telling you there is something greater? Do you try to meet this need by yourself? Or do you realize that you can never be completely fulfilled outside of having a purpose greater than yourself? Do you live your life in response to a greater calling, looking forward to a future more fulfilling than anything you can imagine on earth?

How to Have the Best Day Ever

2010-04-29T14:00:00.000-07:00

Step One:

Give child diarrhea in the middle of the night.

Step Two:

Wake to discover a bedroom that reeks of the aforementioned diarrhea, and the child who is sleeping in it, spreading it all over himself and his bed.

Step Three:

Attempt to hose down child and get him clean before school.

Step Four:

Spend over an hour scrubbing at mattress with steam cleaner.

Step Five:

Drench with Febreeze.

Step Six:

Get a root canal.

Step Seven:

Return home to discover that the bedroom still reeks.

Step Eight:

Repeat step four.

Step Nine:

Repeat step five.

Step Ten:

Run out of Febreeze.

Step Eleven:

Open the window and the door and turn on the fan, praying that the stench will dissipate before children have to sleep in that room.

New Title

2010-04-19T07:53:00.000-07:00

I spent this past weekend at a writer's conference, and had the wonderful opportunity to meet with an agent.

The meeting went really well, and the agent gave me some suggestions. The first thing he said was that I would have an easier time and open myself up to a broader market if I changed my genre from Fantasy to Adventure.

Honestly, this came as something as a relief, because I never felt like my story was really fantasy, but I didn't know how to classify it because of the presence of dragons. Having "permission," in a sense, to be in the "adventure" category despite my dragons, is really exciting for me and opens me up to some of the other things I want to write. Therefore, I'm going to start changing my identity over from a fantasy writer to an adventure writer.

So, one of the main things the agent suggested is changing my title. Currently, my working title for my series is Finding Fantasy, and for my first book is Dying for Dragons.

I need to change my title to something that sounds more like an action/adventure/suspense than a fantasy, but still retain the theme of the series, which is that everything in mythology has a place in history. Here's a short synopsis of my story:

Having just finished her master's degree, Emma Harris is presented with the opportunity to follow her passion of proving that dragons were real animals, not just mythological creatures. In her effort to get the information she wants, she unknowingly makes an enemy of the director of a mysterious organization whose main goal is controlling the flow of information in the world. The director, a person shrouded in secrecy, sends agents to silence Emma at all costs, following her literally to the ends of the earth to keep her discoveries from being made revealed.

So, here's what I've come up with so far for titles.

Series:

Flights of Fancy
Flights of Fantasy (I like this one but it still has the element of of fantasy that I'm trying to get away from)
History Hacker (My main problem with this one is that it will be taken as a computer story)
Mythology Marauder (This one is probably my favorite)

Book:

Crypto Conspiracy (That's the only thing I've come up with for this one)

Obviously, I like alliteration, but I am open to other suggestions. So, please tell me what you think of these, what you like or don't like, what you'd pick up in a bookstore, or if you have another title you would suggest that reflects the themes and ideas I'm trying to accomplish. And please come back to see others' suggestions, and give me your input on those!

Thanks for your help!

Irrefutable Laws

2010-02-23T12:45:00.001-08:00

I've been getting a lot of comments from people about how I never write on my blog anymore, so I thought I'd start back up with some posts, beginning with some Irrefutable Laws of the Universe.

& Law of Mechanical Repair

After your hands become coated with grease, your nose will begin to itch and you'll have to pee.

& Law of Gravity
Any tool, when dropped, will roll to the least accessible corner.

& Law of Random Numbers
If you dial a wrong number, you never get a busy signal and someone always answers.

& Law of the Alibi
If you tell the boss you were late for work because you had a flat tire, the very next morning you will have a flat tire.

& Variation Law
If you change lines (or traffic lanes), the one you were in will always move faster than the one you are in now (works every time).

& Law of the Bath
When the body is fully immersed in water, the telephone rings.

& Law of Close Encounters
The probability of meeting someone you know increases dramatically when you are with someone you don't want to be seen with.

& Law of the Result
When you try to prove to someone that a machine won't work, it will.

& Law of Biomechanics
The severity of the itch is inversely proportional to the reach.

& Law of the Theater
At any event, the people whose seats are furthest from the aisle arrive last.

& The Starbucks Law
As soon as you sit down to a cup of hot coffee, your boss will ask you to do something which will last until the coffee is cold..

& Murphy's Law of Lockers
If there are only two people in a locker room, they will have adjacent lockers.

& Law of Physical Surfaces
The chances of an open-faced jelly sandwich landing face down on a floor covering are directly correlated to the newness and cost of the carpet/rug.

& Law of Logical Argument
Anything is possible if you don't know what you are talking about.

& Brown's Law of Physical Appearance
If the shoe fits, it's ugly.

& Oliver's Law of Public Speaking
A closed mouth gathers no feet.

& Wilson's Law of Commercial Marketing Strategy
As soon as you find a product that you really like, they will stop making it.

& Doctors' Law
If you don't feel well, make an appointment to go to the doctor, by the time you get there you'll feel better. Don't make an appointment and you'll stay sick.

And my favorite:

& Law of Probability
The probability of being watched is directly proportional to the stupidity of your act.

Legacy

2009-11-21T22:10:00.000-08:00

How many lives does a person touch in eighty-six years?

I arrived at Aunt Vickie’s house for Grandma’s birthday party. The table, adorned with dainty teacups, quaint dishes and napkins glittering in beaded rings, beckoned me with the inviting atmosphere of an old-fashioned tea party. The fragrance of fresh-cut autumn flowers wafted up from elegantly crafted arrangements sprouting from vases carved from pumpkins.

I was ushered into the living room where a host of Grandma’s friends and family gathered to chat. After everyone arrived, we were all seated at the table where seventeen women introduced themselves and explained their relationship to Grandma. Daughters and granddaughters, friends and friends of friends, all who knew and loved Grandma and had been influenced by her in one way or another.

Four lovely ladies, a mother and her three beautiful daughters who were friends of Aunt Vickie’s served us our meal. The first course consisted of elegant tea sandwiches. Chicken salad, fresh and tangy, sat between triangles of whole wheat bread. Crescents of white bread were graced with a magnificent egg salad filling. Finally, crisp cucumbers nestled in a blanket of cream cheese between rectangles of white bread. Along with our sandwiches, we each drank our choice of herbal teas in our delicate teacups.

When we finished our sandwiches, our servers brought us the second course: scones, both plain and with cranberries. An assortment of toppings waited to adorn our scones—Devonshire cream and lemon curd, and homemade strawberry, peach and plum jellies.

After we’d eaten our fill of scones, Aunt Vickie announced one of the reasons she’d wanted to host this party. After the death of a friend’s mother-in-law, the friend said she wished her mother-in-law could have been to the funeral so she could hear all the wonderful things said about her. Aunt Vickie wanted Grandma to hear all about the lives she touched, so she asked Grandma’s family and a few close friends to write a note or letter to her, to be shared at the party.

Over thirty letters arrived.

In the interest of time, only the letters from Grandma’s children plus a couple others were read aloud.

We all listened in rapt silence as Aunt Vickie and Aunt Sherri took turns reading the letters aloud, each epistle expressing the personality of the person who wrote it. Poetry, eloquent essays, bullet-pointed lists and heart-felt letters all blended together to paint an exquisite portrait in memories of the life and family Grandma built over the last eighty-six years.
Memories of Grandma’s hospitality, as she invited her children’s friends into her home, becoming sometimes more of a mother to them than their own mothers, then continuing the tradition with her grandchildren’s friends.

Memories of great-grandchildren and nieces and nephews as they snuggled with Grandma on the couch.

Memories of daily family devotions that instilled in her children the value of a lasting relationship with, and continuous dependence on, God.

Memories of baking bread and having dinners promptly at six o’clock every evening, meals that were wholesome and savory for all, no matter how hard she’d worked all day.

Boxes of Kleenex were put to work dabbing at smeared mascara as we heard about the beauty of Grandma’s hands—hands that worked hard but never complained; hands that baked bread and sewed dresses, prepared meals and wiped away tears, made crafts and held her Bible. Hands that nestled, fingers entwined, into the hands of the man she loved for over sixty-two years until Grandpa went to wait for Grandma in their Father’s house.

Grandpa, the man to whom Grandma waved good-bye when he went to war, and welcomed home with open arms when he returned. The man with whom she raised eight children, through the hard work of life on a farm, and through multiple geographical changes. The man whose love, combined with hers, built a home where every child felt safe, cherished and secure, and who now pass that love on to their own children and grandchildren.

Reading those letters could have continued well into the night, but dessert awaited us. We all filed into the kitchen where a chocolate fondue fountain awaited our pleasure, flowing with pure, creamy Belgian chocolate.

Plates upon plates of treats filled the table: fruit—strawberries, raspberries and blackberries, bananas, kiwis and mangoes; angel food cake and rich brownies; rice crispy treats and marshmallows, all waiting to be smothered in the drizzling chocolate and savored by the guests.

Finally, as we ate our dessert, Grandma opened her presents. Apparently, Aunt Vickie told people “she likes candy,” so along with several keepsakes and other gifts, Grandma opened box after box after box of chocolates. It won’t surprise any of us who were there if she has enough chocolate candy to last her until she’s eighty-seven.

Marcher Lord Press Announces Marcher Lord Select

2009-10-29T14:20:00.001-07:00

(Colorado Springs, CO)--Marcher Lord Press, the premier publisher of Christian speculative fiction, today announces the debut of a revolution in fiction acquisitions.

"Marcher Lord Select is American Idol meets book acquisitions," says publisher Jeff Gerke. "We're presenting upwards of 40 completed manuscripts and letting 'the people' decide which one should be published."

The contest will proceed in phases, Gerke explains, in each subsequent round of which the voters will receive larger glimpses of the competing manuscripts.

The first phase will consist of no more than the book's title, genre, length, a 20-word premise, and a 100-word back cover copy teaser blurb. Voters will cut the entries from 40 to 20 based on these items alone.

"We want to show authors that getting published involves more than simply writing a great novel," Gerke says. "There are marketing skills to be developed--and you've got to hook the reader with a good premise."

Following rounds will provide voters with a 1-page synopsis, the first 500 words of the book, the first 30 pages of the book, and, in the final round, the first 60 pages of the book.

The manuscript receiving the most votes in the final round will be published by Marcher Lord Press in its Spring 2010 release list.

No portion of any contestant's mss. will be posted online, as MLP works to preserve the non-publication status of all contestants and entries.

Participating entrants have been contacted personally by Marcher Lord Press and are included in Marcher Lord Select by invitation only.

"We're also running a secondary contest," Gerke says. "The 'premise contest' is for those authors who have completed a Christian speculative fiction manuscript that fits within MLP guidelines and who have submitted their proposals to me through the Marcher Lord Press acquisitions portal before October 29, 2009."

The premise contest will allow voters to select the books that sound the best based on a 20-word premise, a 100-word back cover copy teaser blurb, and (possibly) the first 500 words of the book.

The premise contest entrants receiving the top three vote totals will receive priority acquisitions reading by MLP publisher Jeff Gerke.

"It's a way for virtually everyone to play, even those folks who didn't receive an invitation to compete in the primary Marcher Lord Select contest."

Marcher Lord Select officially begins on November 1, 2009, and runs until completion in January or February 2010. All voting and discussions and Marcher Lord Select activities will take place at The Anomaly forums in the Marcher Lord Select subforum. Free registration is required.

"In order for this to work as we're envisioning," Gerke says, "we need lots and lots of voters. So even if you're not a fan of Christian science fiction or fantasy, I'm sure you love letting your voice be heard about what constitutes good Christian fiction. So come on out and join the fun!"

Marcher Lord Press is a Colorado Springs-based independent publisher producing Christian speculative fiction exclusively. MLP was launched in fall of 2008 and is privately owned. Contact: Jeff Gerke; www.marcherlordpress.com

Contest Blurbs

2009-10-27T08:25:00.000-07:00

I'm going to be entering my story in a Premise Contest.

The contest is put on by the one and only Marcher Lord Press, the leading publisher of Christian Speculative Fiction. The idea is to see if readers would be interested in reading my story based on my premise. The first round is based entirely on a 20-word blurb.

What that means, is in twenty words, I have to make my book sound like the most exciting thing out there! I have to encompass the gist of the story and the excitement and tension all in twenty words.

I NEED HELP!

Here are some of the ideas I've come up with so far. Would you, as a reader, want to read my book based on any of these?

I've put a poll on the sidebar. Please vote for your favorite! Also, if you have a new suggestion, or a way to tweak one of the blurbs I've come up with, please write it in the comment section!

Thanks!

1. Emma's dream of searching for dragons is coming true--but how far will she go to prove what she knows?

2. Emma's going to prove dragons exist if it kills her--but what if her search threatens the people she loves?

3. The Organization--Emma has no idea who they are; why are they trying to stop her from proving dragons exist?

4. The most important things in Emma's life--faith and proving dragons exist--Nik hates. Why does she still love him?

5. Despite the threat from a mysterous Organization, Emma is determined to prove dragons exist...but at what cost?

I can't edit the poll because people have already voted, but I got a suggestion to not start with a question, so if your vote is for #6 or #7, just mention it in the comments. Thanks!

6. Proof of dragons exists, and Emma can find it...but the cost may be greater than she's willing to pay.

7. Emma intends to prove dragons exist, but there are those who will try to stop her, no matter the cost.

Okay, go vote! Thanks again for your help!

The Lie

2009-10-23T12:13:00.000-07:00

I was talking with a friend last night about lies women believe. It seems that no matter how beautiful or talented or successful some women are, they fall into a trap of self-deprecation or get stuck in abusive relationships or suffer terrible mishaps and they don't know why. In thinking over our conversation, I realized two things. One, it's not just women--it's everyone, and two, no matter what shape it takes, this phenomenon boils down to one thing.

The Lie.

The Lie takes different forms. For some, it is that they don't look right--too fat, too thin, too tall, too ugly, too whatever. For others, it is the opposite. Looks are all they have, so they should play up their appearance and make the most of it. For some it is their ablities. They pour everything into what they do, hoping that by doing enough they'll overcome The Lie. For others, they believe nothing they do is good enough so they stop trying altogether. For some, it is relationships. They believe they can't do better, so they settle for someone who makes them miserable, and remain stuck there. For others, they seek to overcome The Lie by exploring as many different relationships.

What is The Lie?

You are worthless.

The Lie is perpetuated by The Liar. He corrupts us, twists us until we are no longer recognizable, then spits us back out into the world. He tells us repeatedly "You are worthless" until we can't believe anything else. And he does it to keep us from The Truth.

As long as The Liar can keep us mired in The Lie, he can keep us from fully seeing or understanding The Truth. That is his goal, because the only way to fight The Lie is with The Truth.

What is The Truth?

Jesus said, "I am the way, The Truth, and the life."

And here's what He has to say about you:

Truth #1
You are beautiful.

Genesis 1:31 And God looked over everything He had made and it was very good.
Psalm 139:14b I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Truth #2
You are not worthless--you are worth EVERYTHING.

John 3:16 For God loved the world so much that he gave his one and only Son, so that everyone who believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.
Romans 5:8 But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.

Truth #3
You have a purpose.

Jeremiah 29:11 For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.
Ephesians 1:11 Furthermore, because we are united with Christ, we have received an inheritance from God, for he chose us in advance, and he makes everything work out according to his plan.

I pray that you will start to examine the Lie in your life, in whatever form it takes, and begin to combat it with The Truth.

Word Wednesday

2009-10-13T21:06:00.001-07:00

I'm switching it up a little today. Instead of a Word Game, I'm going to explore other words.

Namely, Names.

Did you ever notice how names in the Bible had really profound meanings? How Biblical figures' names reflected their character?

For example, Adam means Man. Fitting, since he was the very first man, don't you think?

Remember Gideon? He was afraid to obey God, but ended up conquering a massive army. Guess what his name means? Great Warrior.

How about Abraham? The name Abraham means Father of Nations. Sound like a promise God made to him?

Or some less-noble names. Isaac means Laughter. His mother named him that because she laughed when she heard the prophecy that she would have a baby.

And Jacob, which means Supplanter or Deceiver. Think about how he lived up to that one!

In America, we have a tendency to name children based on what we like, without necessarily consdering what the name means or if it has any significance.

Have you ever thought about your name? Or how your name fits you? Whether or not there is a legacy attached to your name that you could live up to?

My oldest son's name means Healer. Already I see in him a sweet and tender spirit. He is sad when others are sad and wants to comfort them. Could it be that he will live up to his name and be a healer of people's hearts?

My second son's name means Praised One. With his precocious nature, it seems like Praised One is something he will have no trouble fulfilling.

My daughter's name means Wild Goat. She certainly lives up to that, as she climbs atop furnture and jumps like she's invincible. The reason I love her name, though, is because of the legacy behind it. The woman in the Bible for whom she is named was a strong, powerful woman who fought for God's army, even though she was not native to Israel.

I started thinking about this based on something a friend of mine said. This friend makes up nicknames for his close friends based on their personality. At one point he said, "Names have power if you own them."

Do you own your name?

His nickname for me is Dragon Slayer. Based in part on the topic of my book, but also because that's how he sees elements of my personality. My name means "Victorious," a fact that my friend was not aware of when he nicknamed me Dragon Slayer. Is that a coincidence? Or is there maybe something I should learn from that?

God speaks truth into our lives through many different channels. In pondering my name and my nickname, I've done a lot of thinking about what that means for my life, and what God has called me to do. I believe God is preparing me for a battle--whether spiritual or something else, I don't know--but something is coming and God is using this to prepare me, and also to assure me that through Him I am Victorious.

What about your name? Do you know what it means? Do you have a legacy to follow? Do you have a purpose or a character quality to strive for? Or is it just a name?

If you want to look up the meaning and origin of your name, try this website.

I Need Your Input!

2009-10-09T14:37:00.000-07:00

So clearly it's been a little while since I blogged.

I have plenty of excuses, but none of them are great, so I won't bother. I do want to get back into the flow though, so I've come up with something of a schedule that I need your help with.

Sunday:
Sermon Notes--anything that strikes me as profound or that I have found to really apply to my own life from the sermon at church.

Monday:
Monday Wonderings--this is one I need help on. If you read the Monday Wonderings I did before, I asked the question "What is the proper way to dispose of batteries?" And, to my delight, I got a real answer from my good friend who just happens to be certified in toxic waste disposal or something like that. Anyway, I really enjoyed finding out something new, so this is a chance for you to participate. Is there something you've always wondered about? A phrase or word that you wonder the origin of or something that you just never understood? Post it in the comments or email it to me, and I'll use your suggestions for my Monday Wonderings!

Tuesday:
Misused word of the week--I've had fun doing this one, too, because in looking up stuff I always learn something new for myself. So I'll continue doing words or phrases that bother me, but if there's one that you want to know the meaning of or that you hear misused, please participate and we'll do that, too.

Wednesday:
Word Game Wednesday--This has been hit or miss. Some weeks I got really good responses and participation, and other weeks it completely flopped. Is this something I should continue or should I find something else to do? If I do more Word Games, will you participate?

Thursday:
Free Day--I may do some book reviews since I have a lot of wonderful new books that I acquired at the ACFW conference, or I may just post something relevant to my life or to the world or whatever strikes my fancy. I'd also like to have guest bloggers once in awhile, so this will probably be where I'll do that. If you're interested in being a guest blogger, please let me know!

Friday:
Free Rant Friday--This is usually a hit, so I'll probably keep going with this theme. If you have another suggeston, I'd love to hear it!

Saturday:
Saturday Story--I really loved doing the How I Met Your Father series, and I've had fun with Roommate Reflections. I have plenty more Roommate stories up my sleeves, so I'll be doing those for awhile, but may interrupt the theme if I have a funny story about my kids or some other topic to share.

So that's my tentative schedule. I reserve the right to skip one or more days a week based on my level of insanity. Please comment and let me know your thoughts or suggestions and anything else. Thanks!

The Phoenix Rattler: Does Your Story Have Bite?

2009-09-02T10:12:00.000-07:00

Story Contest

I'm SO excited to share this contest with you! It's a brand new contest, sponsored by Christian Writers of the West (CWOW), the local Phoenix chapter of ACFW.

We have a great line-up of editors and agents to judge the final round, so if you make it to the finals you'll have an agent or editor looking at your story! I hope you'll check out this contest--it's going to be great!

CLICK HERE for more details!

Adventures in Camping

2009-08-21T12:40:00.000-07:00

The last time I went camping, other than one night on the beach three years ago, was five years ago when Bigs had just turned one. GNH, Bigs and I went with my dad and siblings to the place we'd frequented as children.

Ever since Joy moved in, we've been talking about going camping but hadn't gotten around to it for one reason or another, so finally, this summer, we said "We're doing it! We're going camping!"

I had been babysitting over the summer, so we had a one-week window between when my charge went back to school and when Joy started her classes, so we marked it on our calendars, contacted the campground for information, and made our plans.

Early Tuesday morning, we loaded up the van with gear and children, and headed for Sedona.

We arrived in the early afternoon and checked into the campground, securing a spot right in the middle of the outside loop.

The spot we chose was lovely and secluded. It was right next to another one, but since we were there and there was plenty of room elsewhere, no one took the spot right beside us. And we were about an equal distance from the entrance and the little convenience store on one side and the path to the creek and the swimming hole on the other. So while it was a delightful spot, it meant that if we wanted to go anywhere, we had to walk a fair bit.

Camping Observation #1:
Being directly between two points means that neither of them are convenient.

Well, we set to work setting up the tent, and in short order we were hot and sweaty and ready for a break, so, after a quick lunch, we got everyone dressed in their swimming suits and headed for the creek.

Icy water in a shaded valley is a quick remedy for hot and sweatyness, and before long, everyone was ready to head back for camp. As the sun was already heading for the mountains in the west, I figured it had to be close to dinner time, and right after that it would be time for bed. A delightful prospect, as it had been a long day of driving, setting up camp, trekking through the wilderness and splashing in a creek. We returned to the van to discover that it was only about 3:30 in the afternoon.

Camping Observation #2:
Time moves more slowly in the mountains than it does in the city.

Despite the early hour, we decided to go about preparing for our evening. This began with a walk to the store attached to the check-in booth. There, we purchased water, firewood, and more ice for the cooler. First mistake: we didn't drive. Joy has an injured hand, so she is not allowed to carry anything in that hand, so she carried the gallon of water with the one and held Tiny's hand with the injured one while I lugged the bag of firewood and the bag of ice back to our campground. By the time we got back and got the fire started, it really was time to start making dinner. We roasted hotdogs for the kids and grilled steaks for ourselves, along with bell peppers and corn on the cob for everyone, followed by a delightful dessert of S'mores.

As twilight swallowed up the camp, the night noises came out. Crickets chirped in the bushes, filling the air with their sound. Normally, I can't stand crickets. They're my least favorite insect ever. I've actually considered buying a pet lizard or salamander or something just so I could feed it crickets. I despise them, and I really hate it when they invade my house, so much so that I pay my kids a nickel every time they kill one. But out here in the wild, they weren't so bad.

Camping Observation #3:
Crickets sound different in the wilderness than they do in the city.

As darkness fell, we put the kids in bed, and Joy and I sat outside talking and enjoying the brightness of the multitudes of stars. A few moments later, Littles emerged from the tent.

"I need to go potty."

I took our one flashlight and led him down the little hill and over to the outhouse. As we ascended the hill on our way back, a hiss stopped me in my tracks.

"STOP!!!!!!!! Don't move! Be quiet!!!!!"

At first I wasn't sure what was going on. I looked around for the rattlesnake I was sure was about to strike, my heart thudding against my chest. Joy quickly informed me of the danger.

In a loud, urgent whisper, she said, "There's a skunk under the table!"

I shined the flashlight beam in that direction, and sure enough, beady, glowing eyes attached to a black and white striped body stared back at me. I shined the light further, and directly under where Joy sat, two more skunks nosed in the dirt, foraging for food. I stood still, clutching Littles to my chest, as Joy sat atop the table, fearing to move and scare them.

Then, to our horror, the two under the table began fighting! Up on hind legs, front legs scrabbling and snouts gnawing at one another, they emitted angry screeches and growls.

Camping Observation #4:
Skunks fighting is a terrifying sound.

Certain that she was about to be sprayed, I suggested that Joy jump from the table and come toward us, then we could go around the long way to get back to the tent. It was either that or sit there in fear until the skunks decided to go away, so Joy went to the far end of the table from where the skunks squabbled and leapt from the table, hitting the ground running and dashing toward Littles and me with such force that she nearly knocked us over.

Naturally, we didn't want to stay outside much after that, so we cowered in the tent and fell asleep to the sounds of shuffling skunk feet and little skunk spats from various points across the campground.

Throughout the night, we were awakened. It was cold, and Littles' sleeping bag was inefficient to keep his tiny form warm. He woke up more than once needing to be cuddled. Also, he tends to have nightmares, or at the very least, vivid dreams that wake him up.
Tiny, too, appeared to be ineffectively snuggled, and eventually I brought her into bed with me so both of us could get some more sleep.
However, that was short-lived. Having gone to bed at 8:00 the night before--my children are NEVER in bed by 8--they were all three ready to wake up and enjoy the day as soon as the sky began to lighten. The sun hadn't even peeked over the eastern mountaintops when they were up and chattering away.

Camping Observation #5:
Sharing a tent with three children is not conducive to getting a good night's sleep.

That morning we decided to go for a hike. There was a trail that began directly across from the campground, so that's where we headed. I carried Tiny in a baby backpack, while Bigs and Littles marched in their little hiking boots. The map claimed that the trail was .7 miles and climbed up 700 feet. It also said the difficulty was "moderate."
Now, I walk .7 miles all the time. In fact, when Joy and I walk at home, we never go less that 2 miles. This hike, steeply switch-backing straight up 700 feet, was no .7 miles. And it was anything but moderate.

Camping Observation #6:
When a hiking trail says "moderate difficulty," it's probably a lie.

By the time we reached the top, every muscle in our bodies ached. Rivulets of perspiration flooded down from every pore in my body. Then, to top it off, at the top there were fewer trees, and the sun beat down, scorching my sweat-sheened skin.

Camping Observation #7:
If you sweat enough, even the SPF 50 sunblock washes off.

By the time we returned to the campsite it was well after noon and we were exhausted. We ate lunch and attempted to take a nap, but the inside of the tent was stuffy and sweltering, despite having all the windows open. So, instead, we headed once again for the swimming hole. The frigid water was a soothing balm to our sore muscles, and despite the brain-freeze it caused, we dunked completely into the shallow pool. We even made the kids dunk all the way in. Then I attempted to climb out, carrying Tiny, taking a large step up rather than going around the longer, less-steep way.

It didn't work. I slipped, falling backward and splashing again in the pool, knocking my leg against a series of rocks and completely terrifying Tiny.

Camping Observation #8:
The shortest route isn't always the most efficient.

The path to and from the swimming hole is lined with wild blackberry bushes. Most of them weren't ripe, but there were a few that were a nice dark color. We discovered quickly that the darker the color the better they tasted, but even the very darkest ones were still quite tart and not as delightful to eat as we'd expected.

Camping Observation #9:
Wild blackberries don't taste the same as store-bought ones.

That night, probably from the unusual exertion along with some dehydration, Joy and I both had headaches. Joy's turned into a full-blown migraine, and she went to bed as soon as we were done with dinner. I scurried about putting things away and getting the kids ready for bed and walking around the corner to the water pump to refill our supply.
Littles and Tiny had both decided that literally rolling in the dirt was a fun idea, so the kids needed to be taken down to the water pump to be rinsed off before being put in the tent, as well.

Between our campsite and the water pump were two other sites which were now occupied by a handful of loud, drunken miscreants. Darkness enfolded the valley while I was still trying to get things done, and with night came the skunks. I hurried along the roadway, back and forth, back and forth, with children and water jugs, hearing the skittering in the bushes to the side, along with the now-familiar sound of skunks bickering.

On my last water-pump run, with my arms full of bottles and jugs, my eyes were blinded by the beam of someone's flashlight and a slurred voice hollered out to me.

"Watch out for the skunk."

The light played on the back of a skunk who scurried into the weeds by the road. By this time, I'd realized that if you leave them alone, they'll leave you alone, so I wasn't too worried. Until another intoxicated camper picked up a rock and started swaggering toward where another skunk wandered down the road.

"I'm going to throw a rock at it and scare it away."

I decided against suggesting to him that angering the skunk probably wasn't the wisest idea, and instead hurried back to hide in my own tent.

For the next several hours, the trolls at the next campsites banged on rocks and made loud noises, presumably in an attempt to scare the skunks away, making Joy's head and my own throb even more painfully.

Camping Observation #10:
Drunk people who throw rocks at skunks make bad neighbors.

Fortnuately, none of the skunks sprayed, and we were finally able to drift in and out of reasonably solid sleep, to awake to our final day of camping.

We spent that morning packing up the tent and getting everything ready to go before heading over to the swimming hole for one last foray before heading home. Despite Bigs' and Littles' pleading to climb another mountain, Joy and I were not quite up for that again. But playing in the water seemed to appease them, and in the early afternoon we set out.

After stopping in Sedona to gas up the van and get lunch, we headed home where refreshing showers awaited us. And, after three days of living outside, sweating, trekking through the dirt, having the scent of skunk wafting through the air, using an outhouse, and splashing around in mossy, dead-fish-infested water, I realized without a doubt:

Camping Observation #11:
Running Water is NOT overrated!

Monday Wonderings

2009-08-10T11:10:00.000-07:00

Does anybody actually know what the proper way to dispose of batteries is?

Battery packages always tell you to "Please dispose of batteries properly," but they never actually tell you what that proper way is.

I mean, I assume that putting them in the garbage disposal of your sink or flushing them down the toilet or eating them are all fairly improper places to dispose of them, but what about the trash can? Is that wrong? Does anybody throw them anywhere other than the trash? And are the rest of us going to be arrested for improper disposal of old batteries?

Roommate Reflections

2009-08-08T11:10:00.000-07:00

Picnic at the Mall

For some reason all of The Roommates are a little fuzzy on the how or why of it, but we think it started as a scavenger hunt that we made up for Dee's birthday. Roommate birthdays were always a big deal, and we always did something fun.

And so we came up with a scavenger hunt, a list of things we needed to accomplish and get pictures of ourselves doing. Since Sunflower was our resident photographer, she brought her expensive camera and took pictures of all of our activities.

On our list--and I have no idea how we came up with this--was a picnic in the parking garage at the mall.

So we loaded up our picnic basket with food and beverages, utensils and plates, and a blanket upon which to set it all.

The parking garage at the mall near the college was three levels--the ground, the middle, and the top. The top wasn't shaded, so we didn't want to be there, and there would be too much foot traffic on the ground level, so we took our picnic to the middle level.

We spread our blanket in the space between the elevators and sat down, enjoying Roommately conversation and partaking of a delightful lunch.

Mall patrons stepped around us, some eyeing us askance, some laughing, and some engaging us in conversation regarding the purpose of our picnic.

We were about fifteen minutes into our picnic when a pair of mall security guards approached us.

"You can't have a picnic in here. You have to leave."

"Why?" we asked. "Is there a rule about not having a picnic in the parking garage?"

"You just can't."

I suspect that it was probably a fire hazard or some other sort of danger, but whatever the reasons, the security guards didn't actually know it, but proceeded to kick us out, insisting that "you can't have a picnic in the parking garage of a mall."

So we left, casting ferocious glances behind us at our tormentors as we left, and proceeded on to the next item on our Scavenger Hunt list.

To Be Continued...

Free Rant Friday

2009-08-06T23:51:00.000-07:00

Book Review

2009-08-03T09:41:00.001-07:00

The Missionary

by: William Carmichael and David Lambert

Back Cover:

Yesterday he was an American missionary serving the poor. Today he's an international fugitive.

David Eller and his wife, Christie, work to help resuce impoverished children in Caracas, Venezuela. But for David, that isn't enough. The supply of homeless children is endless because of massive poverty and the oppressive policies of the Venezuelan government.

When he is given an opportunity to do something more--to heal the disease rather than working on the symptoms--David decides to go for it. But little by little, he falls into an unimaginable nightmare of espionage, ending in a desperate life-or-death gamble to flee the country with his wife and son.

My thoughts:

This was a really powerful book with compelling, believable characters and an intense plot. I could feel myself relating to what the characters felt and thought, and the justifications they made for their actions.

I very much enjoyed reading it and would recommend it to others. It was definitely a book that I couldn't wait to pick back up again to see what happens next. The intricate details of the plot all mesh tightly together and came together for a very intense story.

The only thing I thought could have been better was the way the ending panned out. I had hoped for a little more strength and ingenuity on the part of the main character, but overall it was a really good read.

Order it on Amazon here.

Happy Reading!

Roommate Reflections

2009-08-01T00:44:00.000-07:00

Fun With A Hat

As you will remember from the Roommate Reflections episode "Cleaning for a Hat," the goal of room checks every week was to have the cleanest apartment, and thus to win a hat.

Week after week, we strove to have the cleanest-looking apartment and to win the hat, because it wasn't just about winning. It was about showing off.

The fun behind being the possessor of the hat was in displaying it, flaunting the having of it before its previous owner. The R.A. from whom the hat had been stolen, Jury, was forced to watch as his hat was passed around the various girls' apartments and exhibited.

Each week, somebody new took dominion of the hat and did their best to taunt Jury with his stolen hat. Quite frequently, those somebodys were The Roommates.

And, in typical Roommate style, we didn't take on the exposition of the hat half-heartedly.

We displayed the hat more ostentatiously than any other group. Sure, there were those who hung it up on the walls of their apartment, or even took it to class with them, but we took displaying it to a whole new level.

Each time we had the hat,we came up with a new and exotic way to parade our win. We made an art of finding new places to brandish our trophy.

One time, a couple of The Roommates took it to California and took pictures of it being worn at the beach. Another time, we had some random stranger at some random store pose for a picture wearing it. These pictures were posted around campus and some even made it into the yearbook.

On another occasion, we took it to chapel and had a professor toss it to us during announcements.

Time and again, we teased poor Jury with our injudicious use of his poor hat, thus becoming the envy of all the less creative apartment groups on campus, and ensuring ourselves an honorable mention in the pranksters hall of fame.

Free Rant Friday

2009-07-31T11:57:00.000-07:00

This is a chance for you to deposit your two cents, to rave about the things that anger you, to spout off about things you can't change, to vent your annoyance at the world.

Leave your worries and troubles in the comment section for someone else to deal with!

Here's Mine:

Food allergies. I already know I'm allergic to dairy products (not lactose intolerant--an actual food allergy. Yes, there is a difference. I'm not supposed to have anything with dairy even in it), and my doctor also suspects that I may be allergic to gluten, as well. Eating foods that you're allergic to can cause a host of issues that you're not even aware of. Not just hives or something, but all sorts of problems that stem from your body reacting to what it sees as a toxin, including problems with digestion and weight gain and symptoms that put you at higher risk for other problems like hypertension or diabetes.

So I've spent the past two weeks not touching anything with dairy or gluten.

Now, for perspective, products that have dairy are all the things that have powdered milk solids or even calcium stuff even in it. Most chocolate has some sort of milk, even dark chocolate. Even "non-dairy creamer" has traces of milk in it. So no milk, nocheese, no yogurt, no chocolate, and no anything with any of those ingredients.

Gluten is in everything made from wheat or rye or about a dozen other things. So that means no bread, no pasta, no salad with croutons, no chicken that's breaded, etc.

Do you have any idea how limiting it is to not be able to eat anything with dairy OR gluten? I mean, one or the other might be doable, but both??? Or how about to watch other people around you eating things like brownies and donuts and breaded chicken and pasta, and not be able to have any? It is extremely frustrating, believe you me!

So that's my rant for this week. Your turn! Leave your rant in the comments section.

Wednesday Story

2009-07-31T11:46:00.000-07:00

Although the reflection in the mirror told her she looked okay, Allie's hands still trembled. Why had she agreed to do this? Would anyone believe that what she did was an actual talent? She turned around and glanced at the door. Yes, she could walk through it. The talent show was about to start and she needed to get to the gym. Her props were all ready, layed out for her. All she needed to do was go.

She studied the whiteboard, markers, and physics textbook in the corner. She'd been over the equations time and time again, and she was certain her theorem was correct. Still, Allie couldn't shake the thought that a college talent show didn't usually qualify as a "peer review."

With a tremble she turned toward the door leaving the markers and stuff behind in a heap. The talent show was about to begin. She returned to the mirror one more time and touched her face. The burns from the house fire greatly disfigured her and her hair had grown back some to create a cute bob. Was she crazy? People were going to laugh and vote her as the world's ugliest speaker. Did she have the courage to face her peers with a face touched by fire?

Her friend, April, came in and touched her arm. "You can do this," she said. "Do not be afraid."

It was easy for April. April was a beauty pageant runner-up with a great voice and personality. "Let's go. It's time." Trembling, she followed April to the door. Outside, she could hear the MC say "And our first contestant..."

It was time. Now or never. Might as well be now. She'd go out there, do her thing, and wow them all, despite the scars on her face. April was right. She could do this.

Word Game Wednesday

2009-07-29T09:44:00.000-07:00

Greetings, all!!!

Today's Word Game is going to be the Build A Story game again, because that one usually goes well.

Rules:

Add two or three sentences to build the story, leaving your contribution in the comments section and adding to the comments already there. You can take the story in any direction you like--fantasy, romance, adventure, etc. No profanity or graphic content, please! And, as always, you're welcome to play as many times as you want.

In honor of my church's first Talent Night tonight, the theme of the story is going to be a talent show.

The Story:

Although the reflection in the mirror told her she looked okay, Allie's hands still trembled. Why had she agreed to do this? Would anyone believe that what she did was an actual talent? She turned around and glanced at...

Your turn! Build the story!

Roommate Reflections: Amazing Grace

2009-06-21T22:36:00.001-07:00

One day, four or five of The Roommates were out on an excursion when Kandi announced that she had to go to the bank to deposit money before we went out.

It was a Friday, late in the afternoon, on the last day of the month. Which meant, of course, that it was pay-day for 76% of Phoenix and everyone and their brother was in line at the bank.

In true Roommate fashion, instead of waiting in the car or at the Dairy Queen across the way, all of us stood in line with her.

And then she started to sing.

Not just any song, but a song that is highly inappropriate in the line at a bank. Or anywhere.

Ever.

If you're familiar with the song "Discovery Channel," then you know exactly what I'm talking about. If not, then please just take my word for it.

So anyway, Kandi started singing this song, out loud, in a line that crawled along, irritating the rest of the bank patrons and embarrassing The Roommates.

"Kandi, quit singing! Especially that song!" we hissed at her repeatedly.

"I can't help it," she protested. "I have it stuck in my head!"

From behind us, a matronly woman (whose expression had become more and more annoyed the longer Kandi sang), piped up. "Well, you know how to get a song out of your head, don't you?"

Of course, our curiosity was piqued.

"How?" we asked in unison.

"You just sing the words of 'Amazing Grace' to the tune of 'Gilligan's Island'."

The satisfied smirk on her face revealed her evident belief that, not only could we not possibly carry out such a task, but also that she had succeeded in shutting us up.

Sadly for her, that was not the case.

After a brief pause, in which we considered the challenge and glanced at one another in typical Roommately fashion to make sure we were all on the same page, we burst forth in song.

Amazing Grace, to the tune of Gilligan's Island. Flawless on our first run.

The poor woman behind us stood slack-jawed, her eyes filling with horror as she realized that, not only had she failed to shut us up, but she'd taught us an equally irritating diddy with which to drive her insane.

And, to this day, any time any of us has a song stuck in our head that we can't get out, we start immediately in on "Amazing Grace" to the tune of "Gilligan's Island."

Roommate Reflections: Cleaning for a Hat

2009-06-13T09:45:00.000-07:00

My senior year, the female R.A.s stole a hat from one of the male R.A.s and used it as an incentive for Room Checks.

Whoever had the cleanest room got to keep the hat for the next week.

It wasn't that The Roommates had any desire to have a smelly old boy-hat, but having the hat was a status symbol, and The Roommates were all about status.

So it was our goal every week to get the hat.

That's a lot easier said than done when you cram eight college girls into a four-person apartment. Especially since many of us are not known for our obsessive-compulsive cleaning habits.

So, we had to come up with a way to both earn the hat and not do any actual work.

And, as we usually did, we succeeded.

Room Check night approached, and Apartment 14 was littered with clothes, dirty dishes, textbooks, homework assignments, lotions and cosmetics, and various other bits of debris typical of the college lifestyle.

I didn't actually live in Apartment 14, but I lived there more often than I did in my own apartment, and since Apartment 14 was The Roommate apartment, I was still invested in the group effort to win the prize.

So, in the dwindling hours approaching curfew, when the R.A.s would make their rounds with write-up slips in hand for those who didn't clean and a hat for the room that cleaned the most, The Roommates scurried about, thrusting junk into every crevice in an effort to make the apartment appear tidy.

We didn't have time to wash all the dishes, but we knew a sink full of dirty dishes meant a write-up, so we stuffed all the dirty dishes in the oven. Food and anything else in the kitchen was stuffed into cupboards and the refrigerator, to be found months later just when its owner had given up hope of ever having it again.

Virtually everything else in the apartment was shoved into closets, until the closets, cartoon-like, threatened to burst open, spewing their contents over the newly-vacuumed floor.

Then, in one last burst of super-human creativity, we strung Christmas lights up around the living room for "added decoration." It may have been because there was not even an inch of space left in a closet in which to stuff them, or it may have been a genuine attempt to make it look more pleasant, but whatever the cause, the effect was nice.

The R.A.s came in, and, seeing the glittering countertops, the vacuumed floors, and no sign of excess junk anywhere, were so overwhelmed they passed us with flying colors.

One of us pointed out the stunning twinkle of the decorative lights draped around the room, and that clinched it. Once again, The Roommates were in posession of The Hat.

Bird's Egg Picnic

2009-06-11T12:59:00.000-07:00

I wandered out to the play structure where my children and their cousins frolicked, and sat on the swing.

"Hi guys, what are you doing?"

"We're having a picnic. Want to see?" my son, Bigs, answered.

"Sure."

Inside the playhouse I saw the pits and stems from a pile of cherries they'd eaten. On the windowsill sat several leaves and some Fritos.

Bigs started to hand me a chip, then put it back on the leaf. "It's not done yet, it needs to cook more," he informed me.

"Oh, that looks like a good picnic," I smiled, enjoying his creativity and imagination.

"Yeah, and we had an egg. It was so yummy!"

"An egg? Where did you get an egg?"

"From the bird's nest."

With a sinking feeling I recalled the nest we'd admired earlier, with the innocent bird sitting contentedly therein.
My good sense told me he was just pretending, but I had to make sure.

"Oh, really? Where's the shell?"

"Littles smashed it."

It would be very much in character for my middle child to destroy something. And the more details he added, the more I was inclined to believe this was not product of imagination. Bigs isn't a very good liar.

Still, though, he couldn't be serious.

"And you ate the egg?"

"Yep. We cooked it in the sun and ate it. It was so yummy!"

"Are you telling the truth? Did you really eat it or are you just pretending?"

I looked into my son's eyes, knowing that he was incapable of not letting me know the truth. About that time, he began to realize that maybe what he'd done wasn't a good thing.

He dropped his eyes and tears filled his voice. "I'm not pretending. We cooked it in the sun and ate it."

Now, had we been at home in Phoenix where it's 105 degrees and the sidewalk really does get hot enough to fry an egg, it might not have been so bad. But we were in Portland, where the sky was overcast and the thermometer wavered somewhere in the low 70's.

My mind still hoped that he wasn't serious about taking the egg, or at the very least, that he hadn't really eaten it.

"Show me."

He led me to the windowsill on the shady side of the playhouse and showed me the spot where the wood was still wet from egg soaking into it. The egg itself was nowhere to be seen.

Choking back the desire to vomit, I pondered my options. Bigs is a very literal child. Had someone informed him it was not okay to steal birds' eggs and eat them raw, he never would have done it. But he also, apparently, has no common sense. He eats an egg for breakfast most mornings, and the sun is hot so it must be capable of cooking things. Clearly, the thought of salmonella or other risks never occurred to him.

That being the case, I didn't want to punish him. He didn't know he'd done anything wrong, and I knew him well enough to know that my disappointment would be punishment enough that he'd never do that again.

So I very calmly explained to him that he just killed the poor bird's baby, at which point his cousin piped in with "And ate it!"

Bigs' face fell, and I knew I could be assured of his repentance. That would be enough to ensure that this particular sin would not again be committed. Still, I thought I should make the expectations perfectly clear.

"No more eating birds' eggs. Don't climb up in that tree anymore, and leave the nest alone."

One more crisis averted, and without any lasting side effects that I know of. But he's only 5, and Littles is only 3. I have many more years of boyhood to contend with, and I have no doubts that my blog will have fodder to last several lifetimes.

Roommate Reflections

2009-06-06T14:01:00.000-07:00

Five Letters

My senior year the college started a drama group that I joined. The woman who led the group was a professor in one or two classes, one of which Sunflower was in. So when she took an intense dislike to Sunflower, I knew enough about her to believe that her dislike was totally unfounded.

I'm not sure how it started. I think Sunflower disagreed with her about something or contested a grade she was given, but however it started, from then on, the professor went out of her way to be mean to Sunflower.

Each paper Sunflower turned in was marked down viciously, glaring red slashes across the page for petty things that other students were not being marked down for. Conclusions Sunflower came to and even sentence structure were attacked, lowering Sunflower's admirable GPA considerably with each assignment.

Many times after receiving an assignment back, Sunflower would be in tears, not understanding the obscene delight the professor seemed to take in attacking her work. Before each assignment, she would pass her paper around to The Roommates for critique, ensuring that spelling, grammar, flow of thought, and conclusions were all as flawless as she could make them. Still, however, the professor marked her down, for things as petty as word choice and topic.

Finally, Sunflower wrote a letter to the professor, kindly and respectfully contesting her latest grade and asking what she had done to deserve such treatment.

The professor wrote back, snippily and haughtily suggesting that Sunflower was petty, immature, and rude.

Sunflower wrote back, again in a respectful tone, defending herself, and again was attacked by another letter from the professor decrying her behavior, until Sunflower was ready to drop the class altogether in her frustration, despite the damage it would do to her grade.

Now, The Roommates always made up nicknames for people, to describe them to each other while not revealing to Non-Roommates who that person was. For example, one boy who was always surrounded by a gaggle of admiring girls was nicknamed Mr. Mambo (from the song Mambo Number 5, which was popular at the time). One term I used a lot and passed to the rest of the roommates to describe an unpleasant female was Shrew.

So, after the last letter, as we sat in The Apartment sympathizing with Sunflower over her decidedly unfair treatement, I said, "We should come up with a nickname for her."

"Like The Shrew," Sunflower spat, all the venom born of months of abuse seething in her voice.

In my usual glib manner, attempting to make light of a tense situation, I quipped, 'I was thinking Evil Beast Monster From Hades, but The Shrew works, too."

As often happens, my suggestion stuck, and to this day we use EBMFH when we want to describe someone truly terrible.

Where, Oh Where, Has Avily Gone?

2009-06-02T08:54:00.000-07:00

Greetings, faithful Blogeteers! I apologize for my lack of blogging the past couple of weeks. I hope that I was not missed too terribly.... but that I was missed at least a little...

Two weeks ago today I drove out to California to visit my friend Joy who was just coming in from her four-month trip to Thailand. GNH had to work, so the kids and I went ourselves. We stayed with her in her parents' RV trailer for six days, spending lots of time playing at the beach, and on the playground of the church where Joy's father ministers.

The one downside was that I had no internet access. One time I checked my email on Joy's parents computer, with an internet connection speed reminiscent of molasses rolling uphill on a cold day. So, naturally, my regular blog posts got laid by the wayside.

When I returned home, I spent a day recovering from my trip, then launched immediately into my summer occupation of watching my friend's kid while she is at work. Then, that same week, my father came into town to visit and see his new grandson, my brother's new baby, so I spent quite a bit of time out and about with him. Also that week, I potty-trained my middle child.

Needless to say, with everything else going on this past week, I have left my blogging in its dejected place by the wayside, from whence I now retrieve it.

I hope you have not given up on me, and will all come back!

Misused Word of the Day

2009-05-17T23:37:00.000-07:00

Today's word isn't so much a word as two commonly misused sets of letters.

i.e. and e.g.

i.e., from the Latin id est, means "that is." When you make a statement using "i.e." there should only be one thing to follow, and it should be a synonym, or another name, for whatever preceded it. It indicates that an explanation or paraphrase is about to follow.

“Many workers expect to put in a forty-hour week — i.e., to work eight hours a day.”

e.g., from the Latin exempli gratia, means "for example; for the sake of example; such as." A list of examples may be preceded by e.g.

“She loved exotic fruit, e.g., mangoes, passion fruit, and papayas.”

Many times, these two are used interchangeably. Most often, I see "i.e." used when what the speaker means is "e.g."

And now that you know the difference, I trust that you will use them correctly from now on; i.e. don't mix them up any more.

Roommate Reflections

2009-05-16T11:11:00.000-07:00

Dorm Wars

My first year of college, when I lived in the dorm, there was a pretty severe rivalry going on between the girls' dorm and the boys' dorm. Pranks flew like feathers in a pillow fight, escalating with each trick.

It started out innocently enough. We (the girls' dorm in general, although not everyone was involved in every prank) did little things, like Elephant Runs.

The Freshman dorm was a smallish, two-story building. Girls lived on the top floor and boys lived on the bottom. We quickly learned that virtually everything we did could be heard below, so when we wanted to annoy the boys we'd stand in our rooms or in the kitchen and drop marbles or pennies on the hard floors, sending pinging echoes through the boys' abode. Or, we'd all start at one end of the building and Elephant Run down the hallway, our thundering footsteps vibrating the building and annoying the boys.

Their retaliations were equally irritating but harmless. Sometimes they'd call the payphone situated in the hallway in the middle of the night, and then hang up before someone answered. That way, they woke us all up, but didn't have to waste a quarter.

We stuck a dead fish in their vents so their whole dorm stunk for weeks, but they didn't know what the smell was or where it was coming from.

In turn, they dressed up in the outfits from the Scream movies, with the scary masks, and climbed up and knocked on our windows late at night, severely freaking some of the girls out.

We upped the stakes a little bit by removing all the license plates from their cars (we didn't realize at the time that it was illegal...) and gift-wrapping them, leaving them in the Student Activity Center (affectionately referred to as The SAC) for the boys to find. One of our prime antagonists got his truck propped up on blocks and the tires removed and hidden around campus.

The boys crossed the line, however, when they invaded our dorm. One Saturday night when we were all sleeping, they broke in. They got one of those giant (and I do mean GIANT) bags of popcorn and dumped it all up and down our hallway and in our common area. They left messages in shaving cream on our walls and floor, the most prominent being "GOTCHA, SUCKERS!" running down the length of our hallway. In our common area, on top of a three-foot-high mountain of popcorn, they left us a pair of giant, nasty, skid-marked tighty-whities.

Then, as if that weren't enough, shut off our electricity so our alarm clocks didn't go off in the morning (VERY frustrating for a few of the girls who had jobs and church commitments), and they got these giant traffic barricades and wedged them in front of both the front and back doors so we couldn't get out. We had to send someone out the window, scaling down the brick latticework, to go remove the barriers.

So there we were, at home on a Sunday morning, seething from our recent violation, and with the knowledge that the boys' dorm was sitting empty...

No WAY were we gonna let this slide!

After pitching in money, a couple girls went to the store, returning with birdseed, syrup, shaving cream, vinegar, and sardines, among other things.

One of our girls was dating one of their boys, and she managed to finagle his key from him, so when we were all prepared, we snuck into the boys' dorm. We put syrup on door handles and toilet seats, then stuck birdseed to the syrup. We littered the floor with birdseed. We wrote shaving cream messages. We put sardines in the washer and dryer so their clothes would smell. We sprayed vinegar on the walls so the dorm would smell funny. And we returned their tighty-whities.

In the exultation of revenge, some of the girls got a little carried away. The next day, we were hauled into the dean's office. The chewing out we received could have made a drill sergeant jealous. Apparently some of the birdseed had found its way into a CD player and ruined it, and the vinegar had stained the couch in their common room.

We were threatened with suspension and even expulsion. All future dorm wars were strictly forbidden.

Finally, after we explained that it was retaliation for what they had done, and that we didn't mean to damage property and would gladly pay to replace it, we were let off with write-ups and community service.

And we managed to do most of our community service hours scouring and doing improvements on our own dorm, so we pretty much managed to cheat our way out of our entire punishment.

And thus a firm foundation for The Roommates was built.

Misused Word of the Week

2009-05-11T23:18:00.000-07:00

Suppose

Suppose, in all its various forms, is misused so dreadfully that I felt the need to address the issue.

Suppose, as defined by Dictionary.com:

sup·pose (sə-pōz')
v. sup·posed, sup·pos·ing, sup·pos·es

To assume to be true or real for the sake of argument or explanation: Suppose we win the lottery.
To believe, especially on uncertain or tentative grounds: Scientists supposed that large dinosaurs lived in swamps.
To consider to be probable or likely: I suppose it will rain.
To imply as an antecedent condition; presuppose: "Patience must suppose pain" (Samuel Johnson).
To consider as a suggestion: Suppose we dine together.
To imagine; conjecture.

Notice first the use of the word "to." "To assume," "to believe," "to consider," etc. Use of the word "to" in the definiton reveals to us that the word "suppose" is in the present tense. For example, "I suppose that you must think I'm a walking thesaurus, as my friend once told me I am."

Often, this is misused in the past tense, as in "I was suppose to go to the store but I didn't care that much."

If the sentence is past tense, the word needs an "ed" on the end, just as in "jump," "I jumped," "spew," "I spewed," "tense," "I tensed."

Pay special attention to the fact that it ends in an "ed" not any other letter.

Also from Dictionary.com:

sup-posed

–adjective

Presumed to be true or real without conclusive evidence.
Intended: medication that is supposed to relieve pain.
Required: He is supposed to go to the store.
Permitted: We are not supposed to smoke here.
Firmly believed; expected: You're supposed to be my friend.

supposedly
adverb
believed or reputed to be the case

Notice again the spelling. The "ly" is added after the "ed." The "d" does not change to any other consonant. Ways I have heard this misused/mispronounced are "supposevely," and "supposibly," among others.

Thus ends this week's effort at encouraging the proper use of the English language.

Roommate Reflections

2009-05-08T23:41:00.000-07:00

The Other One

The year I lived with Roomie, Sunflower also lived in our apartment. Roomie and I had one bedroom, and Sunflower lived in the other, along with The Other One. The Other One was only there the first semester--second semester Svetlana moved in.

But back to The Other One. She was a piece of work. She took probably five or six showers a day. I'm not even kidding you. Every time Roomie and I came in from class, or from going out, or in the evening before bed, or when we woke up, The Other One was in the bathroom, showering. We almost never had a turn in the bathroom.

The Other One also had a pretty severe Princess syndrome. She always thought everything was everyone else's fault. For example, she used to stuff food down the sink. The sink in our apartment didn't have a garbage disposal. Roomie and I had both grown up with kitchens that were garbage disposalless, and so were not in the habit of shoving food down the sink.

Not so with The Other One. Naturally, after several weeks of stuffing food down the non-disposable sink, the pipes got clogged. So The Other One called her Daddy out to come fix it, which he willingly did, and then proceeded to lecture Roomie and me about how we couldn't put food down the sink because there was no disposal.

Now, at this time, Sunflower was in school full time and on top of that working almost non-stop. She was rarely in the apartment. As she worked at a group home, she even slept at work sometimes. So the things that went south in the apartment were either due to Roomie and me or The Other One.

And it wasn't Roomie or me.

At our school, we were required to keep our rooms in at least some sort of semblance of tidiness. Every week, the R.A.s would come by for room checks, and if it wasn't cleaned to their satisfaction, then we could get written up.

Sunflower was almost never home, so messes were rarely her doing (though when she was home she was very good about cleaning up after herself), and The Other One never lifted a finger to do anything, so cleaning of the apartment for room checks always fell to Roomie and me. As we were both good students and had no desire to receive unnecessary write-ups, we always scoured the apartment on Room Check day. That meant cleaning up the kitchen, including washing The Other One's dishes and putting away her foodstuffs, as well as cleaning and wiping down the bathroom, assuming we could squeeze in a moment or two when The Other One wasn't showering.

Well, needless to say, this routine got really old, really quick.

So, the week before Thanksgiving, since room checks were being suspended for the holiday, Roomie and I decided to try an experiment. We didn't clean up the apartment. We let it go that whole week without cleaning up after The Other One, just to see if she would at some point make any attempt to pretend that we weren't her slaves.

She didn't.

The apartment grew ickier and ickier as dishes stacked up, floor crumbs accumulated, and bathroom grime multiplied.

Still, The Other One did nothing.

Just when Roomie and I were ready to give in and clean it all up because we could no longer stand the mess, The Other One said to me, "Aren't you guys ever going to clean up in here?"

I lost it.

The very nerve! How dare she, when she made a third of the mess and we'd been cleaning up after her for all these months?!?

And I told her so, too! "Maybe if you would help around here, it wouldn't get so bad! It's your stuff too, you live here, and you make some of the mess! Roomie and I have been doing EVERYTHING since the day we moved in, including cleaning up all of your messes while you do nothing! Well, we're tired of it! We let it go on purpose, just to see if you would do anything!"

I don't think she even responded. I'm not one to lose my temper and shout at people very often, so I'm pretty sure she just stared at me in stunned silence. If she did say anything, I don't remember it. And it wouldn't have mattered, because Roomie and I were right.

I don't think it got better after that... but it sure felt nice to let her know how we felt!

**Please note: I told this story for the sake of telling a funny story about something I experienced, not to in any way degrade anyone. I have not seen The Other One in years, and as I have grown up considerably since my college years, I can only assume that she has, as well.

Free Rant Friday

2009-05-08T11:04:00.000-07:00

Awe-summm

2009-05-07T21:01:00.000-07:00

I got this "award" from my dear friend Lynn Rush, and since I have not controversial topics to discuss this week, I figured I'd keep it going.

Here are the rules:

List 7 things that make you Awe-Summ and then pass the award on to 7 bloggers you love.
Make sure to tag your recipients and let them know they have won!
Also link back to the Queen that tagged you.

Even if I didn't tag you, please feel free to put your own seven in the comment section!

Here are my seven things:

1. I have the greatest husband in the world. He's absolutely perfect for me, and I would not be nearly as awe-summm as I am without him!

2. I have three gorgeous, brilliant, and very fun children. They are "what I do," most hours of the day, and therefore they make up a lot of who I am.

3. I am a darn good writer. (If you happen to be an agent or a publisher reading this, I'm not just bragging--come on, take a chance! Lemme show you what I got!!! :)

4. I play bass guitar

5. I know how to shoot a gun.

6. I like to dress up and look pretty. In fact, one of these years I'm gonna throw a ball, just so I have an excuse to go all out.

7. And, best for last, the Awe-summmest thing about me, the one thing I can't take credit for myself: I'm saved.

Ok, here are my tags:

Tabitha Dumas

Ashley Weis

Krista Phillips

Nakato

Joy

I know it's not seven, but a several of the people I would have tagged were already tagged by Lynn, so.... it will have to do. :)

Thanks for the "award," Lynn, and congrats to those of you who I tagged, and to each and every one of my followers and blog readers--you're all wonderful and I'm SO grateful to have you come visit my blog!

Word Game Wednesday

2009-05-05T22:29:00.000-07:00

Favorite Word

As a little play on words, for Word Game Wednesday today you get to share your favorite piece of the Word.

Your favorite Bible verse, that is.

Bonus: Share a story or a reason why it's your favorite.

Here's Mine:

1 Corinthians 6:12 All things are lawful for me, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful for me, but I will not be mastered by anything.

Back in college, this was the Roommate theme verse. Back then, we focused more on the "all things are lawful," aspect, but now I see that the emphasis is more on the part that says "not all things are profitable," and "I will not be mastered by anything."

I embrace my freedom in Christ, but I temper it with the wisdom that comes with maturity, the willingness to do the things that are profitable, and the desire to be mastered by nothing but the Holy Spirit.

Your turn! Enjoy!

Misused Word of the Week

2009-05-05T09:31:00.001-07:00

Irregardless

Irregardless is not a word. I often hear people use "irregardless" when they mean "regardless."

Regardless, according to dictionary.com means:

1. having or showing no regard; heedless; unmindful (often fol. by of).
–adverb
2. without concern as to advice, warning, hardship, etc.; anyway: I must make the decision regardless. —Idiom
3. regardless of, in spite of; without regard for: They'll do it regardless of the cost.

The prefix "ir" is put in front of words to show a negative, such as in irresponsible and irrelevant. "Regardless" already means "showing no regard," so if you were to put an "ir" in front of it, it would change the meaning to the same as "regard."

But at any rate, it is a non-standard word, and the word regardless is the one that ought to be used.

Roommate Reflections

2009-05-02T00:51:00.000-07:00

The Perfect Man Test

Caer's boyfriend was a jerk. I don't know why she dated him in the first place, but when they broke up it was a mixed blessing.

Mixed, because it was better for her not to be with him, but at the same time she was reeling from the way he'd treated her. We spent many a class period cursing his existence. At the time, I was still frustrated by the lack of interest from Genius Nerd Piano Guy, and disdainful of the opposite sex in general.

Caer and I decided that no man would be good enough for us unless he was Perfect. So we set out to define Perfection.

We came up with a list of about twenty things that a man had to do in order to be Perfect, like call when he said he was going to, and still let us have time with our female friends, and be sensitive and caring and uplifting and a good kisser.

Hour after agonizing hour, sitting in the back of our classes, we worked to make a Perfect Man Test that would stand the test of time. We typed up and printed out our Perfect Man Test, with points for each item listed. For a man to be considered Perfect, he had to get at least 90 out of 100 on the test.

When it was ready, we gave it to all of our male friends (including a few professors--incidentally, the president of our college suggested that Good Kisser should be at the top of the list, instead of at the bottom where Caer and I had put it), and determined their level of Perfection.

Needless to say, neither of us found a perfect man, but most men ranked higher than Caer's ex, so pretty much anything would be a step up.

Genius Nerd Piano Guy remarked, when we gave the test to him, that it was pretty easy to tell which items stemmed from personal experience. Apparently we'd been a little biased. The items on the list which were direct opposites of the things Caer's ex had done to her were written in complete sentences, for example, "He has to be willing to pay for the dates at least half the time," whereas the general ones were one to two words, like "Good kisser."

Not that we changed it based on his opinion. He was hardly Perfect himself. Or, at least, not yet. Besides, it was a great way to help Caer get through her emotional trauma while inadvertently announcing her ex's (lack of) character to the entire school.

We had divined a fabulous way to measure the Perfection of a man, and we intended to use it.

And we held on to copies of said test for many years following, ready for use when a man should come along and need to be ranked for Perfection before he could be considered for suitorhood.

Free Rant Friday

2009-04-30T22:38:00.000-07:00

Word Game Wednesday

2009-04-29T00:07:00.000-07:00

Portmanteau

Rules:

Take two random words and put them together, such as brunch, made from breakfast and lunch, then give a definition for it.

Bonus: Use it in a sentence

As always, feel free to play more than once.

Here's mine:

Foxons: The Morons at the Fox network who cancel all the really good shows.

I'm going to write a nasty letter to the Foxons and beg them not to cancel Joss Whedon's Dollhouse.

Your turn! Have fun!

Misused Word of the Week: Covet

2009-04-28T10:05:00.000-07:00

"I covet your prayers."

Have you ever used that phrase? Heard someone use it?

Did it ever strike you as odd that you would say "I covet..." when one of the Ten Commandments is "Thou shalt not covet"?

Why, if we are told not to covet, would we say "I covet," even if we're referring to prayers?

Covet, as defined by Dictionary.com means "to desire wrongfully, inordinately, or without due regard for the rights of others: to covet another's property."

To desire wrongfully. Now, if we desire prayer for something, that is certainly not a wrongful desire. To covet your prayers would mean that I'm desiring that the prayers that belong to you would belong instead to me. That doesn't even make sense!

So instead of breaking the tenth commandment and coveting prayers, let us instead earnestly desire one another's prayers.

Roommate Recflections

2009-04-24T21:57:00.001-07:00

With the end of How I Met Your Father, I was forced to come up with something new for my Saturday Story.

As memories from college bring me so much enjoyment, I thought I would write stories about some of the antics performed by The Roommates and others.

So without further ado, I give you the first installment of Roommate Reflections.

Getting Ticketed by Hottie Cop

Once upon a time, on a Saturday morning during my freshman year of college, I woke up with the urge to get another hole pierced in one or more of my ears. One minor problem, though, was that I was still seventeen, and my parents were in another state so they couldn't really give me permission.

I put the idea out of my mind until later that morning when I talked to my friend and fellow dormmate, Sunflower.

"I really want to go get my ears pierced again," she said.

What a coincedence! So did two or three other girls from the dorm! So we all went down to the mall together.

The lady at the piercing pavilion handed us all the release forms, but didn't bother to check our IDs.

Excellent. She assumed that I was eighteen like the rest of them, and I could pierce my ear.

I was a freshman in college, gimme a break!

Anyway, my friend Liv and I decided to split the cost of a pair of earrings and each get one hole in the cartilage of one ear. I left the mall with my friends, one hole in my head richer.

Since Sunflower and I both had the same idea at the same time for getting our ears pierced, it only seemed natural that the next time an idea struck us both at the same time, we should follow through with it.

"What are you doing this weekend?" I asked her one day.

"Nothing. I'm bored. We should do something."

"Yeah, like road trip to California or something!"

"I was thinking the exact same thing! That would be so much fun!"

We batted the idea about, only half-serious, until we went to a particular class that morning. I honestly can't remember what the topic was or how it came up, but at one point the professor said, "or take a random road trip to California."

That sealed it. Sunflower and I gaped at each other. It was like a sign from on high. We were meant to take a road trip to California!

As it happened, Sunflower's car was broken, so she was driving her mom's car. A red convertible. We obtained permission to take the car to California, and then went about seeing who else we could convince to come along.

In the end, it was Sunflower, Nessie, Crystal, and myself who decided to go. We had to be back in time for church commitments on Sunday morning, so the plan was to drive out Friday, spend the night in a hotel Friday night, spend all day Saturday on the beach, and drive back Saturday night.

So the four of us piled into the red convertible, top down, and set off down the road.

Now, this may seem strange to some, but apparently four college girls in a red convertible with the top down cruising down the freeway attracts a lot of attention. After about the third or fourth catcall from other commuters, we decided to keep track.

We pulled out a one-dollar-bill, and every time we got waved or hollered at, we drew a little heart on it.

All was going well, and we were enjoying ourselves thoroughly, until somewhere in California, on a long stretch of highway, when Sunflower's lead foot got the better of her.

We hit about 108 mph. Fortunately, when we saw the lights flashing behind us, we were going a little bit slower than that.

Sunflower slowed to a stop along the side of the highway and rolled down the window (we'd put the top up by then, unable to withstand the 108mph winds thrashing about us). A few moments later, an officer of the law came to the window.

Despite the churning in our stomachs, we were all coherent enough to gape at the devastatingly handsome face of our nemesis. "Can I see your license and registration, please?" he asked.

Sunflower handed him the documents.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?"

Of course she did.

"Do you realize I was going the other direction and I jumped the median just to get you?"

That information was new. And altogether disconcerting. We'd been going 108mph in a 65mph zone.

That was a felony.

Any moment, Sunflower could be dragged away in handcuffs.

Hottie Cop meandered back to his vehicle to write the ticket. When he returned, he handed the ticket to Sunflower with a stern warning. "I wrote the ticket for 80mph. Slow down."

"I will," Sunflower promised. "Um... can we get a picture of you to remember my very first ticket by?"

A slight smile tugged at Hottie Cop's lips. "For safety reasons, I can't allow that. You just be careful now."

We inched along the rest of the way to Escondido, at which point Sunflower had to inform her parents of our excursion. "The good news is, we're here. The bad news is, I got a speeding ticket."

But the really good news was that the speeding ticket didn't make Sunflower a felon. The rest of our trip went as planned, and we returned to school in the wee hours of Sunday morning.

As we pulled back into the parking lot, we presented Sunflower with a trinket to put in her memory box along with her very first speeding ticket--a one-dollar-bill decorated with nineteen little hearts.

Makeup Follow Up

2009-04-23T17:07:00.000-07:00

As you may have noticed, I did not voice my own opinion about the issue of whether or not it is a sin to wear makeup in my previous post. In part, that was because I had not yet fully formed my own conclusions.

Now, since I opened this worm-can in the first place, after having prayed about it, thought through all the arguments, and discussed it thoroughly with my husband, I feel compelled to share my thoughts on the matter.

These are the conclusions I have come to. You are, or course, entitled to disagree with me, and whatever stance you take I respect your decision. The purpose of these blogs is not to create division in the body of Christ, but rather to provoke each reader to examine his or her own heart in light of God’s Word and think through something that perhaps had not previously been an issue of importance.

On this blog, I write about the things that are affecting me. After reading the article and having a discussion about it with Ashley, I felt God calling me to examine my own heart and my motives for wearing makeup, and therefore prompted to blog about it. Based on the amount of traffic and thoughtful responses, I conclude that this topic strikes a chord with many of us.

It has been suggested to me that discussions such as these distract from what is important—Jesus. I respectfully disagree. Anything in God’s Word, and anything that has the power to draw us closer to or distract us from our relationships with Christ, is worthy of discussion.

It has been suggested that those women who have stated their belief that wearing makeup is a sin are engaging in legalism, and that they are losing focus on Christ’s free gift of redemption by getting caught up in “works.” I disagree with this as well. Ephesians 2:8-9 says, “For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God. Not of works, lest any man should boast.”

This is, of course, true, and it is pivotal to any discussion about salvation. But the story doesn’t end there. Too often, I believe, an emphasis on grace swallows any attempt to grow spiritually. Any suggestion that a particular behavior might be wrong is met with a cry of legalism. Any attempt to live a holy life is scorned with accusations of being “holier-than-thou” and of trying to earn salvation when salvation is free.

A sermon I heard several years ago touched on the concept of setting up “fences.” You put up fences in your life around the areas in which you are weak. For example, if you struggle with alcoholism, you don’t walk past a bar. If you struggle with laziness, you get rid of your TV. And God may call you to put up fences in other areas of your life. This is NOT legalism. Legalism is when you try to impose your fences on someone else.

Many times, if what someone is doing makes us uncomfortable, we brand that person as a legalist and spout off about how their heart is in the wrong place, when we should be examining our own hearts for the source of our discomfort, because that is the nudging of the Holy Spirit in our lives, confronting us about our own sin. We cry that we are under grace, and refuse to accept that there may be things in our lives that need to change.

“What shall we say then? Shall we continue in sin that grace may abound? God forbid! How shall we, that are dead to sin, live any longer therein?” (Romans 6:1-2)

If we stop after grace, we are disobeying, and that is as much a sin as the sin of legalism. “Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone.” (James 2:17)

All through the New Testament we are commanded to work toward becoming more like Christ, to grow in holiness, and to “run the race before us.” (Hebrews 12)

I won’t quote all the verses I found on this, but I’ll cite some of them for you to look up (and I truly hope you will):
Matthew 5:16
Ephesians 2:10
Philippians 2:12-16; 3:14; 4:9
1 Timothy 6:17-19
James 2:14-26

We are called to be holy (Eph. 1:4; Col.1:22, 3:12; 1 Peter 1:15-16; 2 Peter 3:11) and to become more like Christ. This is accomplished by obeying His commands and responding to His promptings.

That being said, I do not believe the wearing of makeup is, in and of itself, is a sin. However, it may be a sin for you.

Let me explain what I mean by that: In Exodus 20, when God gives the Ten Commandments, the very first commandment is “Thou shalt have no other gods before me.” Anything, including the wearing of makeup, becomes a sin when we put it before God. If pride, or vanity, or insecurity, or a need to fit in or not be considered weird are your motivations, then those motivations are wrong, and wearing makeup might be sinful for you.

However, that does not mean it is the same for everyone. Each of us comes from a different background, has different experiences, and has a different calling on our lives. And God calls each of us to do different things in service to Him. At the risk of sounding like a post-modern, relativist weasel, I believe there are certain things that may be true for one person that are not true for another.

For example, someone who struggles with alcohol addiction may be called to give up alcohol altogether and never have a drink for the rest of her life. That doesn’t mean that her brother or sister in Christ may never have an alcoholic beverage. Someone who has an addiction to internet pornography may be called to give up his computer completely, while another may just give up the internet, while another may be granted the strength to resist.

Moreover, God deals with the sins people struggle with at a specific time in their lives. A woman who engages in gossip may be challenged to control her tongue, and God may not worry about whether or not she wears makeup because He is more concerned with the harm she is doing to the body of Christ with her malicious words. Also, God calls people to give up different things in order to be more effective for Him. He may ask a woman to give up her desire to be married in order to be more effective on the mission field, or a man to give up a high-paying job in order to serve Him in another area.

For whatever reason, God may be asking you to give up wearing makeup in order to fulfill a specific purpose He has for your life, while He may not call another woman to the same thing. By the same token, God may call a woman to wear makeup for a specific purpose. If she works with teens or in the inner city or in a high-profile professional job, she may not be taken seriously if she doesn’t fit a certain standard of appearance.

For me, my ministries include serving on the worship team at my church, and soon, I hope, public speaking. As I noted in my post about dressing up for church, I believe it is important to look our best in order to give God honor when we meet for corporate worship. If I am singing or playing on stage, wearing no makeup, rather than being a tribute to my holiness, I believe it would make me appear slovenly, as if I didn’t try to look my best or didn’t care about my appearance. The same principle applies if I speak before a group of women who do not have a conviction about the wearing of makeup.

As I began thinking through this issue, I struggled greatly with whether or not God was calling me to give up wearing makeup entirely. I didn’t really want to, yet I had to question whether my reluctance was because of vain or selfish reasons.

After much prayer, thought, and discussing with my husband, I have concluded that such is not the case for me. I wear makeup, and yes, I think it enhances my appearance, but I don’t spend a lot of time on it and I don’t believe it is interfering with my relationship with God.

However, I do see the value in giving up makeup for a period of time. As with any type of fasting, whether you fast from food or soda or chocolate or caffeine (not water or sleep—if you fast from those you’ll have bigger issues), I believe God will show you things through that experience. I highly encourage you, if nothing else, to consider fasting from makeup for a time. Two weeks, a month, or whatever God lays on your heart, and open your heart to how He is speaking to you in this.

If you are struggling with this issue at all, or even balking at the idea that makeup might be a sin, I challenge you to really search your heart and ask yourself why it is a big deal to you. Are you, perhaps, struggling with vanity? Is God calling you to something else?
“Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: and see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” Psalm 139:23

Word Game Wednesday

2009-04-22T17:21:00.001-07:00

The Build-A-Story games are always fun, so that's what we'll do this week.

Add to the story by adding your own sentence.

The catch:

This one is going to be a fantasy, so your sentence has to involve some sort of fantastical element, such as (but not limited to) fairies, leprechauns, unicorns, trolls, etc.

Here's mine:

Once upon a time, a little fairy named Petaline realized that in the fairy kingdom, something was very, very wrong.

Your turn! Enjoy!

Makeup: To Sin or Not?

2009-04-21T11:22:00.000-07:00

Could it be a sin to wear makeup?

Have you ever considered the possibility?

I read an article yesterday, the point of which was to attempt to convince the reader that wearing makeup is a sin. The article itself, filled with unrelated Scripture and weak arguments was not enough to convince me, but the author did make a few good points that provoked some thought in me.

Then, I had a discussion with my dear friend Ashley who feels firmly convicted against wearing makeup. She posted her perspective here.

Between reading the article and talking to Ashley, the main arguments that I felt deserved a closer look and upon which I pontificated were these:

1. Genesis 1:27, "So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them."

We are created in God's image. So why do we feel the need to change that?

2. Genesis 1:31, "God saw all that he had made, and it was very good."

All that God made was Very Good, including Eve without makeup. As the author of the article stated, "does God want you to 'look more beautiful' than you are? Is this the way He thinks? Did the One who made you neglect to add just the right amount of makeup, so that you can be 'at your most beautiful'? Does He want you to attempt to improve on what He made?"

3. 1 Corinthians 6:19-20, "Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body."

If our bodies belong to the Lord, do we have any right to decorate them in the way that we choose?

4. 1 Peter 3:3-4, "Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight."

To me, this is the most compelling argument against wearing makeup. We should be focusing on developing character, inner beauty, and godliness rather than on our outward appearance.

5. Vanity and pride. Wearing makeup is all about looking better, and therefore feeling better about ourselves. If, by wearing makeup, we please ourselves with our appearance, we are engaging in vanity, and in feelings of pride, which the Bible warns against. As the author of the article stated, "Do women wear makeup to show love toward neighbor? NO! Do they wear it to please God? NO! They do it to focus on and please themselves."

If you're like most women, myself included, even the thought that wearing makeup might be sinful makes you cry out in indignation. I, for one, don't think of myself as a prideful person. I wear makeup when I go out, but not that much, and I don't do it to attract attention--I just want to look nice. To cover up the dark circles under my eyes that are so visible with my thin, pale skin, to disguise the acne I get from time to time, and to highlight my pale blonde eyelashes that otherwise make my face look tired and washed out. I'll throw on some lip gloss to balance it out, and if I'm dressing up sometimes I'll wear eyeshadow with sparkles in it, just because it's fun. Nothing too bad, right?

But what if it is wrong? And what if these excuses I'm making in my mind about why it's okay are just ways that I'm justifying sin? Am I willing to listen to what God has to say about this issue, even if it means giving up makeup entirely?

What about you? Do you wear makeup? Why? Has any of this made you rethink your position? And do you think it's possible to have a balance--moderation in all things, as long as you're not being controlled by it (1 Corinthians 10:23)?

Or, like the author of this article, do you think "wearing makeup is an addiction. Billions of dollars are spent because the world is addicted to vanity. A small amount of drugs will not help an addict recover from his addiction. Likewise, wearing makeup in moderation is to say that one can sin in moderation. This is the same as saying that one can be pregnant in moderation or dead in moderation. Impossible! A little blush or mascara is still sin! There is absolutely nowhere in the Bible where God allows for even a little bit of sin. And sin always spreads and grows worse: 'A little leaven leavens the whole lump' (Galatians 5:9)"?

Men, what about you? Do you have an opinion about whether or not women should wear makeup? Do you think your wife is equally beautiful without it?

Please leave a comment with your thoughts!

How I Met Your Father

2009-04-18T01:13:00.000-07:00

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 11.5 Part 11.6 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 16.5 Part 17 Part 18

Part Nineteen: Happily Ever After

When I gave him an ultimatum of sorts, Genius Nerd Fiance decided that his relationship with me was important enough to work for, and he spent the next couple of months actively pursuing communication with me.

It wasn't easy for him, but he determined to do whatever it took to hang on to me, even if it meant having his friend Chevy remind him to call me on a regular basis. The wedding was still on, and at the end of March, I left America's Armpit, stopping along the way to participate in Angel's wedding, and then heading home with just over two months to finalize the plans for my own nuptual ceremony.

Those days passed in a flurry of work and wedding plans. I stored a bunch of my decorations and other paraphernalia at my brother's house.

Then, one day, he sold his house, not remembering that I had my stuff in there. I didn't realize that the sale was final, and so I stopped by to pick stuff up and was greeted by a small person who wasn't allowed to let strangers in the house when her parents weren't home.

After managing to get a hold of the parents, I was finally able to collect the several hundred dollars worth of supplies, which was nice for my brother, because I suspect he would have been annoyed if he'd had to replace it all days before the wedding...

As with many teeny Bible colleges, Fiance's college had a formal banquet every spring. I'd become good friends with one of Fiance's friends, Fern, and one day as we were talking, the topic of Spring Banquet came up.

"I wish you could come," Fern said. "I'm going with Chevy, but I don't want him to think it's like a date, but if you were here it would be just one big group."

"That would be a lot of fun, but all my money is going toward this wedding," I responded. My father financed most of the wedding, but I still had no extra money, after working barely part time for the months while I was there, and trying to prepare for wedded bliss. Not enough to buy a plane ticket to America's Armpit, at any rate.

"Well, what if Chevy and some others and I help buy your ticket?" she suggested.

I hated to ask--it seemed like such a selfish thing... but I hadn't expected to see Fiance until right before the wedding. It would be so nice to get to see him one more time! And to go to the banquet with him...

It was an offer I couldn't resist.

Fern and the others pooled the money together and bought my plane ticket for the weekend of the banquet. We didn't tell Fiance I was coming, however. It would be more fun to surprise him.

Apparently, that day I flew to see him, Chevy reminded Fiance, as he always did, to call me and actively communicate. When he called, my mom told him I wasn't home.

"Where is she?"
"Oh, she went to go see a friend," my mom replied evasively.
"Who? Where? When will she get back?" he asked.
"Oh, just a friend. She'll be back later."

He was therefore a little confused and curious regarding my whereabouts and activities by the time Fern and Chevy convinced him to come along with them to pick up "a friend" from the airport. I stepped off the plane, and was welcomed with the delighted shock of my true love as he realized what was going on.

The banquet was a delight, and the weekend flew past. Before I knew it, I was back home, with only weeks left until the wedding.

Fiance finished the school year and came into town a week before the wedding. Guests from out of town came in, the details were set, and the pieces came together. One of Fiance's groomsmen, Dusty, waited until the last minute to buy his plane ticket, and then he couldn't afford one. A week before the wedding, he announced that he was not going to be able to make it to the wedding.

Fiance's cousin and my brother were to be the ushers, so when Dusty backed out, we upgraded the cousin to double duty, ushering and groomsmanning. Time marched on, and the big day arrived.

The day of the wedding, just before the cereomony began, The Roommates gathered in the room where I'd been getting ready for a toast. Then they left me alone with my mother, my sister who was my maid of honor, and my bridesmaids, Angel and Kandi, and I prepared for the biggest moment of my life.

The wedding itself was an evening, candlelight service. But, even in the evening, it's still hot in the desert in June, and the air conditioners were on. As the ceremony began, our candle lighters, Pooky and Fiance's friend Kitty, scurried out to inform someone that the air conditioners were blowing out the candles.

The most simple, obvious solution, of course, was to turn off the air conditioners.

As the wedding party strolled down the aisle, the room grew toastier, until a sheen of perspiration coated the guests, particularly Fiance. He stood at the front of the church looking as if he might die as he waited for me.

And then it was my turn. I walked down the aisle to where my beloved waited.

We were married in the church I'd grown up in, officiated by the pastor I'd known for most of my adolescent years. Fiance's father gave the charge to us, and then we lit the unity candle. Instead of having a special guest or cd to play a song for us, we sang to each other, "I Will Be Here" by Stephen Curtis Chapman.

We exchanged rings, then, and I looked down in awe at the stunning work of art that Fiance slipped onto my finger. When we talked about what sort of wedding band to get, I told him that I liked sapphires and "shwoopy things."

He listened. But instead of getting a new, separate band, he'd had my engagement diamond reset in a white gold band, with a shwoop of three sapphires on either side. It was more gorgeous than anything I could have picked out myself.

We said the traditional vows, and then we both wrote our own vows to repeat to each other as well.

Then the important stuff was finished.

Being the quirky, fun-loving couple that we are, we wanted to have some sort of silly, memorable element to our ceremony, so when the pastor said, "If anyone has any reason that these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace," our bridesmaids and groomsmen all pulled out toy guns, a symbol that they would forever "hold their piece."

And then it was over. We were married! I was now Mrs. Genius Nerd!

After the reception, just before we got in our shoe-polish-confetti-and-various-other-stuff-festooned car to leave, my mom whispered to me, "You haven't consummated the wedding yet. You can still back out and have it annulled."

That was true. I could have. But I didn't, and I haven't regretted it for a moment. Now, almost seven years later, we are still living happily ever after.

The End (or is it...?)

Free Rant Friday

2009-04-16T23:19:00.000-07:00

Word Game Wednesday

2009-04-14T23:38:00.000-07:00

Quotation Links

For this word game, I'll start with a quotation from a movie, book, speech, etc. The next person has to pick one word from my quotation, and find a quote from another source that contains that same word.

Each person picks a word from the previous person's quote and finds a new quote containing that word.

Example:

1. Mary had a little lamb.
2. This little piggy went to market.
3. To market to market to buy a fat pig.

Got it?

Here's my quote:

"Oh, I hated The Colonel, with his wee, beady eyes!"

-from the movie So I Married an Axe Murderer

Your turn! Have fun!

Dress Up

2009-04-13T23:28:00.000-07:00

One of the reasons I enjoy holidays is because it's a good excuse to dress up.

Our church has a very casual dress code. I grew up always wearing a dress to church, and I tend to be of the mindset that dressing up for church is a way of showing God respect when we come to worship.

So to this day, I typically wear a skirt or a dress to church. Once in awhile, I'll wear dress pants and a blouse, but never jeans, and never, ever shorts.

However, I am the exception rather than the rule. Even GNH, who wears jeans and a button-up shirt, is more dressed up than the majority of people who attend my church. His work environment is fairly casual, as well, so his work wardrobe is the same as his church wardrobe.

Twice a year, though, at Christmas and Easter, I put the boys in suits and the girl in a fluffy dress, and I coerce my husband to wear a tie. And boy, does he look smashing!

Men wearing ties are about the snazziest thing I can picture. I mean, there's a reason James Bond never gets unpopular. It doesn't matter what he looks like, if he's wearing a tie, a man looks classy.

My husband has lots of ties. Lots. Twenty-eight, to be exact. Yes, I counted.

They're fun ties, too. Only a couple of plain ones amidst a sea of sleek designs, cartoon characters, computer-themes, and catchy phrases.

And yet, he only wears one once a year. Even if he wears a different one each time, our kindergartener will be old enough to drink by the time he's gone through them all.

Which begs the question: Why don't men wear ties more often? In some professions I'm sure it's still expected, but why don't they dress up for church? Are ties that uncomfortable? Do they not want want to garner positive attention from the female population? Are they just lazy?

Question for discussion:

Men--How often do you wear a tie? Do you wear one to church? Why or why not? And do you have a preference for what women wear, particularly to church?

Women--What do you think when you see a man in a tie? Do you wish your significant other or even men in general would wear them more often or does it not matter to you? And what about you? Do you dress up for church?

Leave a comment with your two cents!

How I Met Your Father

2009-04-10T23:44:00.000-07:00

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 11.5 Part 11.6 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 16.5 Part 17

Part Eighteen: America's Armpit

The night Genius Nerd Fiance and I got engaged, I called my friend Angel. Angel and I had been best friends since we were about five years old, and even after we both moved to various corners of the world, we always kept in touch.

So it was only natural for me to call her and ask her to be in my wedding. Angel didn't answer her phone when I called, so I left her a voicemail asking her to call me as soon as she got a chance, because I wanted to ask her something.

She called the next day. She hadn't answered her phone because she'd been out with her boyfriend who proposed to her that evening! So, in that phone call, we each asked the other to be a bridesmaid in our weddings.

Genius Nerd Fiance and I scheduled our wedding for the following June, after he was finished with the school year. Angel's wedding was to be in March.

As our entire relationship had been long-distance up to this point, Genius Nerd Fiance and I decided that it would be wise for us to spend at least a little time in the same general geographic area before we wed. So in January, at the beginning of the second semester, Genius Nerd Fiance and I drove from my home to America's Armpit.

I left a mild winter in the Southwest United States to arrive at a gloomy, dismal part of the country fraught with snowstorms and temperatures that neared 273 degrees below zero.

Celsius.

I moved in with Fiance's friend, Lilac, while he was still living in the dorms on campus at his school.

The first evening, as Fiance drove me around and showed me his school, a curb, cleverly concealed beneath a mountain of ice and snow, jumped out and ate a piece of one of the tires on the car our parents had just helped us to purchase.

Thus, one of my first tasks in my new abode was to replace the tire. The tires were still new and under warranty and could be replaced for free, except that the village in which Fiance's school sat didn't have a branch of the right tire company. I drove several hours on the spare tire to the next town that had the appropriate tire company, through more minute hamlets where the speed limit was 4mph, and at last had my new "free" tire.

My next responsibility was to get a job. I had a decent savings, enough to get by on for awhile, but not long. So, as Genius Nerd Fiance settled into his school routine with his friends and his life, I filled out applications at virtually every business in town.

It just so happened that there was a group home near Fiance's school, so that was my first choice for employment opportunities. After all, I had a college degree and almost two years of experience, so it seemed ideal.

They weren't hiring.

And neither were the restaurants or coffee shops or any of the other places I applied.

As for my social life, I met a few of Fiance's friends, but still, they were his friends. I got along well with Lilac, but she worked at Fiance's school, and was gone for most of the day every day.

And so I spent day after day alone in Lilac's apartment or wandering around town filling out job applications.

Fiance was very busy with school, his on-campus job, and his extra-curricular activities. I went by for lunch sometimes, but eating in the cafeteria at his school was fairly expensive for someone with no job.

To make matters worse, Fiance forgot to talk to me. It wasn't that he was ignoring me maliciously as Little Tony had done, but it didn't seem to register with him that I'd moved across the country for him and had no friends, or that I might, now and again, need attention from the man who said he loved me and intended to marry me.

More than once, I mentioned to him my distress. "I need you to talk to me, I need you to call me, I need you to spend time with me."

Over and over he promised to try harder, yet his life kept getting in the way.

In the meantime, I still continued with my search for gainful employment.

A month went by. I had to pay my second month's rent to Lilac while still not generating any income. At one point, I remembered that on my journey to replace the tire I'd passed a Bed and Breakfast that had a tea kitchen. Well, I had no other options, so I might as well apply there, I reasoned.

As it happened, the B&B was run by a delightful Christian couple, and they needed help in the tea room kitchen on weekends. I was adamant about not working Sundays--aside from being one of the few days I got to spend time with Fiance, it was important to both of us that we attend church together.

Saturdays, however, were fair game, and I began working as a prep-cook. The establishment was a solid twenty-minute drive away, and I only worked six hours a week, but it was better than nothing.

Sometime after that, I got another part-time job at a coffee house/bakery. My hours were scarce and irregular, but again, at least it was something. Then, I got a third part-time job waitressing at a Mexican food restaurant.

Now I had a moderate, albeit spotty, amount of income, but my relationship with Fiance wasn't getting any better. His inability to prioritize me and our relationship in his schedule weighed down upon me until I got to the point where I could no longer accept it. If he couldn't even attempt to communicate with me now, I could not be married to him.

"I need you to call me. I need you to talk to me. I moved here to be near you, and I hardly see you any more than I did when we were 46,317,651 miles apart, and we talk even less, because at least then we were talking on the phone and emailing frequently. I left a good job to come here to be near you. I have no friends and three insignificant part-time jobs, and I'm not happy here.

"The main reason I broke up with Little Tony was because he refused to communicate with me. I love you, but I can't do this anymore. You need to make an effort to make me a priority in your life. Otherwise, why should I bother to stay?"

Good Friday

2009-04-09T22:23:00.000-07:00

In lieu of a Free Rant, in honor of Good Friday, please share something for which you are grateful today.

Here's mine:

I am thankful for my husband who goes out of his way to make sure I know how much he loves me, and for my children, who are all wonderful gifts from God.

Your turn!

Word Game Wednesday

2009-04-08T09:13:00.001-07:00

In honor of Easter, today's word game is an Easter-themed word scramble.

Unscramble the following words:

SCORS

FYCUICCR

IRRERCETSUNO

RACICIFES

FREFUS

OLDOB

EVLO

RAGCE

GREONIFV

ARSIVO

Bonus Challenge: Create a sentence using as many of the words as possible!

Post your answers in the comment section. Have fun!

How I Met Your Father

2009-04-04T23:24:00.000-07:00

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 11.5 Part 11.6 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 16.5

Part Seventeen: Engaged!

I sat at the restaurant, chatting with my friends, holding Genius Nerd Boyfriend's hand, as the din ebbed and flowed around me.

As inevitably happens in a group setting, at some point there is a lull in conversation when the table gets quiet and everyone pauses for breath before beginning their chatter again.

The lull enveloped us, and Genius Nerd Boyfriend shifted in his seat. I stared in awe as he slipped from his chair and knelt on one knee in front of me. He held my hand, from which he had surreptitiously pulled my other ring, and looked up at me.

"My dearest Avily," he said.

My heart lurched...

"I've always thought you were a very special girl, and over this past year I have grown to appreciate your depth of character as a God-fearing woman of faith. You've shown some flexibility in being willing to talk aobut wedding plans without being 'official,' and I thank you for that..."

This could not be happening! He wasn't proposing--he hadn't had time to go to Wal-mart and get a cheap ring! And anyway, I'd already resigned myself to waiting until Christmas!

"However," he continued, "I would consider it a privilege to hear your 'official' answer to the following question:

Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" I gasped.

He slipped a stunning diamond solitaire on my finger.

Across the table, the voice of the guy sitting next to my brother rang out. "Dude--that guy just asked your sister to marry him!"

I later found out that everyone--my parents, my siblings, every friend I had introduced him to, and every other random person we'd talked to that week--everyone but me had seen my ring and knew that he was planning to propose.

How he managed to pull it off I'm not sure, but it was annoying in a very gratifying sort of way to know that he'd been toying with me all along, and all my begging and pleading to be officially engaged just made his evil plot more fun for him.

But that was a minor chafing compared to the ecstasy of knowing I would soon marry the man of my dreams.

That evening, back at my mom's house, Genius Nerd Fiance and I shared our first kiss with each other.

Then, over the next few months as he went off to school, we began to plan our wedding and marriage...

How I Met Your Father

2009-04-04T08:25:00.000-07:00

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 11.5 Part 11.6 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

(This part picks up around Part 13 from Genius Nerd Boyfriend's point of view.)

Part Sixteen point Five: Ya Gotta Have a Ring to Propose, Right?

In the early days of the email exchange, as far as I knew, I was carrying on a conversation with a very close friend......roughly until I found out that Tony's Girl was no longer Tony's Girl, at which point I wondered if maybe we might end up together After All.

As the email exchange intensified and the content between the lines kept oozing out, it wasn't long before it was pretty clear that SOMEBODY was gonna have to say something, and I figured that since I was the guy, it probably ought to be me. But how? And when? And what to say? It couldn't be bland or basic -- there had to be some STYLE, some PRESENTATION to it. But what? I'm really not the creative type...

Then one day it came to me. I'll write her a letter -- a real snail-mail letter.
I had recently run across the following nugget in a book I was reading:
I'd like to mention several locations in these Great United States that are probably the mail-forwarding capitals of the world. Darling, Pennsylvania, for example. Romantic types use this postmaster to forward love letters and Valentines so the "Darling" postmark will appear on the envelope.

The book went on to list 3 or 4 other city/state/ZIP combinations, but my favorite was "Darling." But the author of that book had neglected to include Darling, PA's ZIP code. I know mail can still be delivered without it, but this was too important to leave to chance. No big deal, I thought, I'll just look up the correct ZIP code.

At this time I was working in the Records department of a financial institution, and we had a two-volume publication from the US Post Office that listed every city/state/ZIP combination in the country, listed alphabetically by state. So I grabbed Volume Two, found Pennsylvania, and looked for the endearing little town of Darling.

My heart sank. I found Darlington, but not Darling. Not good enough for me. Well, I'll just keep reading and see if I can find "Darling" (or some other acceptable name) in a different state. I got to the end of the volume without finding an acceptable town, so I started in at the beginning of volume one. Mind you, each of these volumes was about an inch-and-a-half thick. Finally, near the end of volume one, I found an entry for Darling, Missouri. Elated, I made a note of the ZIP code, and went home to work on my letter.

If you've never remailed a letter, this is how it works:
You write a letter and put it in a stamped envelope, addressing it to your intended recipient. Then you put that envelope inside another stamped envelope, addressed simply to "Postmaster" at the city/state/ZIP you want your postmark to have. When it gets there, the Post Office will open the outer envelope and send on the inner envelope. Pretty neat, eh?

I put it all together and dropped it in the mail. In my next email, I told her just two things: 1) I sent you a letter, and 2) make sure you notice the postmark.

And we kept emailing.

The trouble is, when you mail something from the Pacific Northwest to Missouri, to then have it forwarded back to the Southwest, it can take a few days to reach its destination.

And the days passed. And passed.

It took that thing ELEVEN DAYS to get there!!! But it was worth it. :-) (see Part 14)

(skip ahead now to Part 16)

The time was coming for me to head off to school in America's Armpit, as Avily so aptly described it. (For the record, I loved the school and the people; I just didn't much care for the location.) But I was glad that I got to visit my Girlfriend (I have a Girlfriend!!) one more time just before leaving for school.

We had talked about marriage and getting engaged, and more than one person (including Girlfriend) advised me to seriously consider getting engaged BEFORE I headed off to school, and this upcoming trip seemed like the perfect opportunity. But how do you go about planning and doing all that? I'd never done that before...

One thing I did know: getting engaged definitely involved two things -- a formal "Will you marry me?" question, and a ring. How was I supposed to go ring shopping without knowing what she liked or even her ring size?? So, being the rational, logical person I am, I asked her what she would like in a ring.

She was very helpful. She said she liked the marquis cut. I didn't want to be quite so bold or obvious as to ask her for her ring size, so I tried a sneaky approach. So one day I called her mother, who went poking around Girlfriend's jewelry on my behalf to try to figure out the appropriate ring size. She made her best guess at a size 7.

I crossed my fingers and went to the jeweler that some other members of my family had used. I said "marquis," and he showed me what marquis looked like. It was nice, but the diamonds in my price range just seemed kinda small. Then he had an idea. He showed me an oval diamond that was bigger and said he could mount it in such a way that it kinda looked like a marquis cut. Sounded good to me. He said it would be ready in a few days.

Unfortunately, I was on a time-table, and that would be cutting it close. So close, in fact, that my parents took me to the jeweler almost literally on the way to the airport to catch my flight to see Girlfriend. But it worked out, and off I went.

Now, a little side note. A very close friend of mine, Dusty Bottoms, once told me that he and a couple friends had made it a habit to write each other notes or letters on airplane barf bags whenever they flew somewhere. I thought, "How unique -- maybe I'll try that."

So on the plane I pulled out a barf bag and started to compose my proposal. (Aren't I romantic?? or something...)

One thing that Girlfriend and I had discussed during our many emails and phone calls was that she was a bit of a traditionalist, and she expected me to ask her parents' hand in marriage before asking her. Now, her parents were divorced, and I don't remember whether she specified her dad, or her mom, or both. So I figured I'd better cover all the bases.

I found a time when Girlfriend was not within earshot to ask her mom for permission and to show her the ring. It was a little harder with her dad, but I got that done too. (Remind me to tell you sometime how that conversation went.) They both gave their approval.

Over the next couple days, as we hung out with various friends and family, I somehow managed to show EVERYONE the ring and tell them I was going to propose, without Girlfriend being the wiser. At one point, we were at Walmart and I got her to check her ring size "just in case." Thankfully, she was a 7!

Now to find the perfect time/place/setting to pop the question. I know it's a special event for the couple, but I wanted to make it memorable and have an audience. I found out that her brother hosted a weekly Bible study at his house, so I coordinated with him to cue me when to pop the question. In anticipation, we drove to his house for Bible study. Then things quickly fell apart.

Rather than do the Bible study, the group decided to just go out to dinner instead. I scrapped my previous plan, and decided I'd just go with the flow and find an opportunity to pop the question at dinner.

Another background item: I'm right-handed, and Girlfriend is left-handed. It works out rather well, because we can sit next to each other at a meal and hold hands under the table while we eat. (Yeah, it's very sweet, I know.) I made it a point throughout the course of the visit to hold her hand a lot and play with the ring that she wore on her ring finger. This was for the express purpose so that I could slide her existing ring off without her suspecting anything was afoot. So that's what I did during the course of dinner.

And the barf bag with my proposal was in my pocket, just waiting for the right moment to come out and fulfill its purpose. (Hopefully only the literary purpose, not the other purpose.)

And then the moment presented itself...

Free Rant Friday

2009-04-02T23:09:00.000-07:00

This is a chance for you to deposit your two cents, to rave about the things that anger you, to spout off about things you can't change, to vent your annoyance at the world.

Leave your worries and troubles in the comment section for someone else to deal with!

Here's mine:

There's a second-hand store that advertises that they pay cash for women's and children's clothing. I have six overflowing tubs of kids' clothes that I saved when I was still having children.

My church is having a garage sale this weekend to raise money for the Women's Ministry. So, I figured I'd take my kid clothes down to the second hand store and see if I could get some cash for some of them, and then donate the rest to the garage sale.

So yesterday, I pulled out the many bins of clothes and went through them all, saving a few outfits for which I held a sentimental place in my heart, and paired up the outfits with their matching counterparts, and so on. Took me a couple of hours to get it all done.

I went out Thursday morning to the second hand store and was informed that they only wanted name-brands in excellent condition. I then spent a good couple of hours going through and re-sorting things, pulling out the nicest, name-brandiest things. All of the clothes are in good condition--I'm the type that will just throw something away if it's stained or ripped or whatever, but I chose out the very best to turn in, not wanting to waste the store clerk's time.

I returned several hours later to pick up my buckets of money and the few items they may not have wanted, only to find out that they wanted a grand total of about five or six things, for which they paid me roughly $8 in store credit. Would have been half that if I'd wanted cash.

I was told that the reason was that the outfits were missing pieces (NOT true--I very carefully pinned all the outfits together!), and that things were stained and faded.

I'm just SO annoyed that I spent so many hours going through everything, and came away with almost enough money to pay for the gas that I spent going down there!

Your turn! Enjoy!

Happy Birthday To Me!

2009-04-01T20:41:00.000-07:00

So there I was, embarking upon the last year of my twenties. I'd stocked up on chocolate and done the dishes the day before, so I had a plan to do a whole lot of nothing for my birthday.

Typically, our small group meets every other week, but sometimes there are scheduling conflicts that mess up the pattern. We'd had group last week, but I got an email yesterday saying that there was a calendar issue, so we were meeting this week as well.

So, my day was pretty typical. I fed my children, I went through their clothes because the church is having a garage sale this weekend so it's a good time to get rid of stuff that doesn't fit, and helped my son with his school work.

I drank my coffee and nibbled at my chocolate. I hung out on Facebook and caught up on my friends' blogs that I haven't visited in way too long. I talked to the family members that called to wish me a happy birthday.

At one point I texted my hubby and said, "I was just thinking.. Do you suppose Pastor is playing an April Fools joke and there really isn't group? Nah, he doesn't have a sense of humor. Never mind."

He LOLed and told me how funny I am.

My Genius Nerd Hubby came home and helped get the kids ready, we ate dinner, and off we traipsed to church.

My oldest son, Bigs, has his Wednesday night program, so we dropped him off and wandered to the room where we normally have our meeting.

It was already occupied by a Women's Minsitry planning committee.

What? You mean I was right?! There's no group?

GNH called Pastor, and I heard his end of the conversation, "So it really was an April Fools joke?"

I have to admit, I was a teeny bit suspicious as we were on our way to church, thinking that maybe we were going to have something there, but when our room was taken and no one else was there, I began to wonder. Then I thought maybe we were meeting people somewhere, but when I heard the conversation with Pastor, I realized I must be wrong.

So, I suggested that GNH take me out for dessert or something. He said ok, but let's stop by home first.

As we unloaded the children and headed inside, I commented about how out of character it was for Pastor, who is a very non-deceitful person to play a joke like that, and how it made me mad that I was right all along and I still fell for it!

So we went up the walk, I unlocked the door, opened it, and was greeted by the flashing of cameras and shouts of "SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

My darling, precious, wonderful Genius Nerd Hubby had arranged for everyone to wait in the parking lot of the church across the street and come inside while we were gone! And to top it off, he suggested that everyone write me a note telling me something that they appreciate about me.

GNH is not typically sneaky, and so I really wasn't expecting him to pull off something this grand--he did a great job of showing me how much he loves me!

THANK YOU to everyone who came and to those who sent messages of encouragement my way, even though you couldn't be here. You rock! It was a GREAT birthday!!!!

Word Game Wednesday

2009-04-01T00:06:00.000-07:00

Book Quote

We've done this one before, but it's fun.

Take the book closest to where you're sitting right now.

Open to page 150. Copy the first sentence of the third paragraph.

State the name of the book and the author.

Here's mine:

After a bowl of the nasty broth and a biscuit, Ginger climbed into the wagon seat and began the two-hour ride to the wagon train.

Dangerous Heart, by Tracey Bateman

Your turn!

How I Met Your Father

2009-03-28T13:54:00.000-07:00

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 11.5 Part 11.6 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Part Sixteen: We're in Love; Can't We PLEASE Get Engaged?!

Boyfriend and I maintained a long-distance relationship for several more months. I'd known for a long time that I was in love with him, but didn't want to be the first to say it.

One day, to my heart's great delight, he sent me a letter, and here is part of what he had to say:

Every day that passes, every email I send or receive, and every little thing that happens keeps confirming to me that my 6-year-long wait is over.

Remember how I said that a long time ago I asked God to cause it so that my next girlfriend would be my last? Well, I think He has honored that request, and one of the ways I know that is that what I feel toward you is not simply a "warm fuzzy" feeling that makes me feel good inside, but a deep desire to make your life a fulfilling one, and serve you, and do everything I can to help you be all of the woman that God would have you to be.

It's not just a feeling that I enjoy, but something that is screaming to jump out of me into action. To me, that distinguishes everyone else's sturgeo/eros/phileo from what I am more and more convinced is God's true agape love.

So it is no small thing that I am saying "I love you." Not like little kids on the playground, not like adolescents feeling their first hormonal high, but I really, truly love you and desire the best for you.

From that point on, a discussion about marriage was inevitable. The more we talked, the more we came to the conclusion that we were each other's happily ever after, and marriage was inevitable.

Naturally, being female, I couldn't get engaged soon enough. One minor hiccup in the process was that I planned to go on a missions trip to Costa Rica for an entire year.

I had gone to Urbana, a giant gathering of high school and college students to talk about missions, and really felt called to do a semi-long-term missions trip. I felt called to Latin America, and in then end felt like Costa Rica was the place I was supposed to go.

So, I sent out my support letters, gave my notice at work, and made all the preparations to go, and then I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And the longer I waited, the less support for my trip came in. It soon became obvious that my financial needs were not being met, and my trip fell through. When that happened, I was more than ready to move on with my life, and plan my wedding.

In the meantime, however, Boyfriend had decided to go back to school. Before I met him, he'd spent two years at a military academy, studying computers. At the school where we met, he'd studied Bible. Then, when he'd moved to be near his parents, he stopped going to school and got a full-time job.

Then, one fateful day, he saw a notice about a tiny Bible college in America's Armpit where he could do a double major in Computers and Bible, and he decided to finish out the two degree programs he'd started.

As I was preparing to leave the country, Boyfriend was preparing to go back to school to become a Genius Nerd, and when my plans fell through, I felt more or less stuck. I had been promoted to a day-time position at my job before I quit, but when I discovered I wouldn't be going on a missions trip, I tried to get my job back. I got re-hired at the same place, but not with the same position. Now I was back to doing nights, and the occasional on-call shift.

Genius Nerd Boyfriend was heading to school, and I felt like my life was at a standstill. We knew we were going to get married eventually, and I really wanted to be engaged.

Also, as it had been several months since we'd seen each other, I really wanted to see him again before he left for school. I offered to buy him a plane ticket to come down, and so he came to visit me just before he was to leave for school.

The entire week he visited, I pushed the issue of engagement.

"I don't care if I don't have a ring," I insisted. "You can buy me a $10 piece of junk from Wal-Mart for now, I just want to be engaged."

We even looked at some cheap rings and got measured to see what size my finger was, but the whole time he put me off, presumably not yet ready to pop the question.

Finally, his visit was nearing an end, I still wasn't engaged, and I was frustrated. It had been almost a year since he'd sent me the letter telling me he thought I was the woman for him, and I didn't understand why he wasn't ready to commit. Plus, I didn't want him to go off to a new school where there were going to be pretty young women who would inevitably be attracted to his charm and good looks, and not have tangible proof that he was taken.

The night before he was going to leave, we went to the college and career Bible study that my brother led. Half the people didn't show up, so instead of studying we decided to go out to dinner, but it was hard for me to enjoy the evening.

All I could think about was that after tonight he'd be gone, I wouldn't see him until Christmas, and I still wasn't engaged...

Free Rant Friday

2009-03-27T06:22:00.000-07:00

Spiritual Gifts

2009-03-26T09:12:00.000-07:00

Have you ever seen those Spiritual Gifts tests? You answer a bunch of questions, and it's supposed to tell you where you're spiritually gifted and where you should be serving.

In our Wednesday night small group Bible study, we're studying the book of 1 Corinthians. Last night was our second week on chapter 12, discussing spiritual gifts.

The verses of contention were primarily verses 1-7:

1Now concerning spiritual gifts, brethren, I do not want you to be unaware. 2You know that when you were pagans, you were led astray to the mute idols, however you were led. 3Therefore I make known to you that no one speaking by the Spirit of God says, "Jesus is accursed"; and no one can say, "Jesus is Lord," except by the Holy Spirit. 4Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit. 5And there are varieties of ministries, and the same Lord. 6There are varieties of effects, but the same God who works all things in all persons. 7But to each one is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good.

The first point of contention is in verse one. Most translations use the term "spiritual gifts," whereas the in the greek it is "spiritual things." That may or may not make a difference, but it at least puts a different angle on the passage.

Second point of contention is regarding the definition of spiritual gifts. In our group, some people came to the conclusion that the list of spiritual things that begins in verse 8 is not a list of spiritual gifts, but of manifestations of the spirit, based on verse 7. The difference, in this camp, is that spiritual gifts are something you are given. Each person is given a gift that is theirs to use as the Spirit empowers. A manifestation, however, is any time the Holy Spirit chooses to use the person in one of these ways.

On the other side of the board were those who thought both the concept of gifts and of manifestations are more fluid. You can have a natural talent for something, for example teaching, but it is when you are submitted to the Holy Spirit that he empowers you, gifts you, or manifests in you to do His will. Sometimes that may be in the form of your natural talent, as in teaching, and other times it may be completely His working, such as in the case of miraculously speaking in another language in order to spread the gospel.

In either case, spiritual gifts tests tend to highlight your natural talents or areas in which you are already serving. One man mentioned that he has taken a test several times, and each time the result came out differently, depending on the areas in which he was working at the time.

I came up with a catch phrase to describe spiritual gifts tests:

Spiritual gifts tests are a man-made construct designed to compartmentalize you into a specific spiritual gift.

Gift tests aside, how do you determine what a spiritual gift is, who has what gift(s), and how they get it?

I'm curious to know your thoughts on spiritual gifts. Please leave a comment!

Word Game Wednesday

2009-03-25T11:03:00.000-07:00

Crossword Puzzle

Ok, you're going to have to use your imagination on this one. And possibly a piece of paper and a pen.

This game is going to be like Scrabble. I'll start with a word, and then you have to add to the puzzle. For example, if my word is CAT, then the next person could use the T from cat and write TUNA. Then the third person could use the letters from either word, but just like in a real crossword, all the letters have to match up and make real words.

So you couldn't use the A from CAT and say your word is HAG, because you'd have your G next to the U from TUNA, and GU isn't a word.

Make sense?

As always, feel free to play more than once!

My Word:

EXCEPTIONAL

Your turn! Enjoy!

Sermon Notes

2009-03-24T13:07:00.000-07:00

Did you ever notice how many pastors and speakers begin their messages with a joke or humorous anecdote?

One of the reasons my husband and I like our church is because of the Scripture-intensive teaching, yet even in this setting our pastor begins with a joke and peppers his sermon with witticisms.

Not that I think this is a bad thing, or think it should change. I enjoy a good speaker who engages his audience, and I find my attention much more riveted when such methods are employed.

However, it occurs to me that it is a fairly sad commentary on the modern church that we demand to be regaled. Rare is the church that does not have a performance-based service.

It's not the fault of the organization, though. We the people, the body of Christ, are not satisfied to come, worship, fellowship, and study God's Word. We insist that the leadership of the church create for us an atmosphere of entertainment in which we can enjoy a sense of revelry and comfortability.

It begins with the music. We claim we can't worship unless the style is just so. If the volunteer musicians aren't professional enough, we hire people who can improve the quality of the sound. If the songs are the wrong style or tempo or whatever, we demand a change. After all, the music is one of the most important parts of the service, and if it isn't done well, then visitors won't come back. And we, too, can't be expected to enter into worship of the Most High God if the music is played poorly or the song choice isn't to our liking. And if the worship team doesn't fix it, after our repeated demands, then perhaps we'll just look elsewhere.

Then the pastor comes up to preach. He must catch our attention right away or we'll tune him out and not pay attention, so he starts with something droll, hoping to make it worth our while to listen. Once he has our attention, he starts in on his speech. He must have a message that is user-friendly for every possible type of person who might be in the congregation. He must use some Scripture, because, after all, this is a church and there are those who insist upon a solid Scriptural base. But at the same time, he must not say anything too convicting, because he'll offend the new people, and some of the people who prefer a more low-key approach.

He must do an altar call at the end, regardless of the topic of his sermon, because there might be someone who needs the opportunity to come forward, yet at the same time, he must have a practical application that is appropriate for members of every possible level of spiritual maturity.

Finally, the end of the service. It must end in just such a way that people want to return again. Often something friendly, like announcements or a peppy song close the service. In some churches they still pass around an offering plate, though the trend is becoming to just have some sort of anonymous box at the back of the church, because, after all, we wouldn't want to be pressured into giving away our hard-earned money, just because the Bible tells us to.

As we are studying the book of Acts at my church, I am reminded ever more clearly how different we are from the early church. They didn't have the option of going somewhere else if they didn't like the music. They didn't necessarily all agree, and yet all were giving everything they had to help the poor. Perhaps they didn't all like the music, or some of the other members, yet they all came together to worship and fellowship.

So I am left to wonder, at what point did the church develop this entitlement mentality? When did receiving become more important than giving? When did getting your own needs met become an excuse not to meet the needs of others? When did gossip take over edifying? When did preference trump common goals? When did entertainment rise above studying and learning more about God?

Is there a way, do you suppose, for us as a body of believers, to go back to the roots of our faith, and in our local denominations determine to give rather than receive, to meet the needs of others, to edify, and to reach toward a common goal? Can we develop a taste for deeper learning, for more intimate understanding--meat, if you will--rather than subsist on a spiritual diet of jocular baby food?

I believe we can, if each of us, as individuals, is willing to commit to this common goal.

How I Met Your Father

2009-03-20T23:25:00.000-07:00

Click Here to read the beginning of the story.

Part Fifteen: Officially Official

Back in those days, AOL Instant Messenger was all the rage. Meant to Be and I spent many an hour IMing each other. I also reconnected with several other friends, including both Bobby Pillsbury and Little Tony.

Shortly before Christmas, I had a chat with Bobby Pillsbury. He told me that he realized he had been a big, stinky, mean, boy-person, and he wondered if there was a chance we could get back together.

Even though Meant to Be and I weren't technically officially dating, things were definitely headed in that direction, and I sure wasn't going to thwart that possibility by reconnecting with Bobby Pillsbury, despite how good of friends we had been. I informed him that I was sorta seeing someone, so, no.

Then, within a week, I had an almost identical conversation with Little Tony.

Little Tony explained that when we both graduated, he knew that our relationship couldn't remain stagnant. It either had to move to the next step--engagement--or end. At the time he wasn't ready to make a permanent commitment to me, and yet he didn't want to just break up with me.

So, he ignored my phone calls, emails, and letters, hoping I would break up with him. Clearly, it worked just as he'd hoped. Except that now he realized he'd made a mistake, that he missed me and thought I was the right one for him, and wanted to try again to make our relationship work.

Seriously, the world is a crazy place. Both of these guys had toyed mercilessly with my heart, and had unceremoniously rejected me, only to come back and realize their mistake at the same time, just when I was exuberantly moving on with my love life.

Sometimes I wonder if that was God's way of cementing for me His will for my life. I never had to wonder about "what might have been," because I had the chance to make the choice. A second chance at both of my college relationships was presented to me, and I was given the opportunity to make my choice.

Without hesitation I chose Meant to Be.

With the water of my past relationships safely under the bridge of time, the timing seemed now to be right for moving on.

In January I went to visit Meant to Be, meeting his family for the first time. It's a very intimidating thing to meet the people you hope will be your future in-laws. What if they hate you, or think you're completely the wrong girl for their son?

On the other hand, they managed to produce a stunningly attractive and brilliant son, so they couldn't be all bad. I could only hope they trusted in their boy's ability to make good girlfriendly choices.

Fortunately, Meant to Be's parents are of the nice variety, and I was welcomed into their home with little torture involved in the process.

That week, Meant to Be and I had the inevitable DTR and changed our status from "just friends" to Girlfriend/Boyfriend. Naturally, the first thing to do in a situation like this is to announce it to everyone you've ever met.

First on our list were some of our mutual friends--namely, Kandi and Pooky.

When we called Kandi to tell her we were dating, her first words were "It's about time!"

Apparently, Boyfriend's Mom had been talking to her sister, Kandi's Mom, about how we talked on the phone ALL the time, and when we weren't on the phone we were talking on the computer.

So apparently this wasn't big news. Better luck next time.

We called Pooky. Pooky, of course, had been Boyfriend's friend since high school, had been acquainted with his one and only highschool girlfriend, and knew he hadn't dated anyone else since. So, when Boyfriend told her he had a Girlfriend, we could actually hear her jaw hit the floor on the other end of the line.

"Who is it?" she gasped. "Tell me about her."

"Actually, it's somebody you already know," Boyfriend said. "And she's right here."

"Hey, Pooky!"

"Avily?!"

"Yep!"

Within nanoseconds the word spread, and any pretense of a private life dissolved as our friends and family became aware of our datingship.

I returned home, praying that this long-distance relationship worked out better than the last one...

Free Rant Friday

2009-03-19T22:06:00.000-07:00

What bugs you?

This is a chance for you to deposit your two cents, to rave about the things that anger you, to spout off about things you can't change, to vent your annoyance at the world.

Leave your worries and troubles in the comment section for someone else to deal with!

Here's mine:

My computer is stupid. It keeps overheating and shutting off for no apparent reason. It says that it's the video card that is over heating, but my Genius Nerd Hubby replaced the video card and it still said it's overheating. So, I am forced to use my slower-than-molasses-on-a-cold-day kid's computer, on which none of my files are stored so I can't do any actual work. Very irritating!

Your turn! Enjoy!

Word Game Wednesday

2009-03-17T22:35:00.000-07:00

Word Scramble

Unscramble the following words:

RUYO

TOND

OPP

FREEBO

SLEASWE

HYTE

TONUC

Bonus: After you've unscrambled the words, unscramble the phrase.

Enjoy and Good Luck!!!

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

2009-03-17T09:48:00.000-07:00

In honor of St. Patrick's day, I wanted to share with you a little video. Enjoy!

St. Patrick

Veggie Tales

How I Met Your Father

2009-03-14T00:03:00.001-07:00

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 11.5 Part 11.6 Part 12 Part 13

Part Fourteen: A Letter and a Visit

Emails flew back and forth between Meant to Be and myself, and between each line lay flirtation and innuendo several feet thick. Moreover, we had begun talking on the phone. I still had my phone that I got for use with Prince Charming, and, as I was working nights, had plenty of awake, non-peak time. Meant to Be was a bit of a night-owl, so he didn't mind staying up late to talk to me.

And so we continued on in a state of ever-deepening attachment, but with no DTR, no outright vocalization of what was going on between us.

Something needed to be said, yet after my experience just before I began dating Prince Charming, I wasn't going to be the one to say it.

And so I waited, day after day, night after night, until one day almost two months later, when Meant to Be informed me that he had written me a letter, snail mail. He instructed me to watch for it, and to make note of the postmark when I got it.

So I waited, tummy aflutter, for my letter to arrive.

It shouldn't take more than a couple of days.

A couple of days later, it wasn't there. It still wasn't there a few more days after that. After a week, I was beginning to get annoyed.

So was Meant to Be.

Finally, eleven days after he sent the letter, I received it.

I was on my way to work and in a hurry, so I didn't take much time in the dark post office parking lot to check it closely--only enough to verify that it was from him.

Part of my job was to do custodial work around the treatment center. There were always two of us at work, and we divided the jobs so one of us was in the main part of the house with the children at all times.

I volunteered to do the kitchen--by far the less appealing of the two sections--in order to garner some privacy. I saved my letter until I was finished working, wanting to savor every word.

At last, around 2:00 in the morning, I pulled out my letter. I glanced at the postmark as Meant to Be had instructed, but it was somewhat faded and I couldn't quite tell what it said. Not wanting to waste time on that, I opened my letter and drank in the words.

To make a long letter short, Meant to Be told me about his prayer that his next girlfriend be his last, about the qualifications he was looking for in a woman and a wife, and how I met each of those qualifications.

He wanted a woman who was a mature Christian, solid and grounded in her faith. I had grown up in a Christian home, had received Christ as a child, and had attended a Bible college.

He wanted someone who was musically inclined, as he was. I played piano, bass guitar, flute, and sang.

He wanted someone who shared his political and religious views, which I did nearly to the letter.

In short, he told me that he thought I was perfect for him, and that we were Meant to Be.

I nearly died. I'd been waiting three years now for this. I called my mom at about 2:30 in the morning, crying. At first she wondered who died, but I quickly laid her fears to rest by telling her about my letter, and about how the man of my dreams dreamed of me as well.

It was then that I went back to re-examine the postmark. Meant to Be, not one to do things in a boring, conventional way, had sent the letter first to the postmaster in a little town in Missouri with instructions to forward it on to me. So, when I got the letter, it was postmarked "Darling."

And soon he'd be out to visit.

We spent the next couple of months emailing and talking on the phone nearly non-stop, and while we both knew we were interested in each other, we had not yet made our relationship "official."

When he came to visit, there was quite a bit of awkwardness at first. For example, at one point when we were driving, the radio was on, and the song "Hold My Hand" by Hootie and the Blowfish came on.

We sat, singing along, eyeing one another's hands as the chorus repeated "I want you to hold my hand," and yet neither of us made that first move toward physical contact.

Finally, though, as we sat in my mother's living room watching a movie one night while the rest of the family slept, he reached out and took my hand.

Later, I took him to Albuquerque's one attraction, The World's Longest Tramway. It's this big cable car that starts at the base of Sandia Peak and travels to the top of the mountain. We went up in the evening and watched the sun set from the top.

On the summit of a mountain in November, it's REALLY, REALLY cold!!! We stood there shivering, watching as the orange glow of sunset faded beyond the horizon and the lights of the city twinkled on. Meant to Be wrapped his arms around me to keep me warm. Or possibly to steal my body warmth. At any rate, it was very romantic.

Finally, our week together ended and he went home, something more than a friend but not officially my boyfriend, and I was left once again waiting for him to make a move...

Free Rant Friday

2009-03-13T09:01:00.000-07:00

What bugs you?

This is a chance for you to deposit your two cents, to rave about the things that anger you, to spout off about things you can't change, to vent your annoyance at the world.

Leave your worries and troubles in the comment section for someone else to deal with!

Here's mine:

I can't think of anything to complain about. My life is very settled right now. I spent the day yesterday with my brother and his girlfriend who are in from out of town, I have the most fabulous man on the face of the planet for my husband, and my children all slept through the night last night so for once I got enough sleep!

So I guess I'll rant about not having anything to rant about.

Your turn! Have fun!

Word-Game Wednesday

2009-03-10T22:05:00.000-07:00

Build a Story Workshop

We're going to continue on the story we began last week.

This time, you may write an entire paragraph, 50-75 words. As always, feel free to come back and add again. The more the merrier!

Our characters are Elli and Dusty.

The Catch:

Your paragraph must start with one of the following words/phrases:

Why

Tomorrow

Suddenly

If only

Never

Always

No way

Exactly

Gorgonzola

Raindrops keep falling on my head

Picture Perfect

It doesn't matter

But

South

Push it

The Story so far:

Elli eyed the tall, foreign man in her favorite gourmet cheese shop, wondering why she hadn't seen him in there before.

She quickly looked at her reflection in the window but saw his relfection instead looking right back at her.

Embarassed, she spun around to the cheese display on her left and quickly knocked over the sample tray and watched in horror as the little cubes of cheese with perfect toothpicks speared through the center spilled onto the hardwood floor.

To cover her embarassment, she collapsed on the samples, sprawling herself and her packages over the polished floor; her lips gripping the savory cheeses, edging them closer to her mouth.

She silently cursed herself for not ordering the special Dutch cheese online, as she felt a piercing pain in her temple where a toothpick was beginning to prick; however, all thoughts fled as she suddenly felt the wind knocked out of her when the handsome stranger in his rush to come to her aid stumbled over a sausage display and landed in a heap on top of her.

There they were, tangled in exotic cheese and sausages. The handsome stranger gently plucked the protruding pick from her head and smiling said, "We just need crackers and we could have a proper snack." Elli could not respond, for her finger was in her mouth chewing the nail along with a cheese sample.

My contribution:

No way could he be talking to her. Tall, stunning man that he was, surely he would have no interest in a klutzy woman like her. Yet his smile as he helped her up indicated was one of comradeship, not amusement or disdain. "I'm Elli," she managed to sputter, still clinging to his hand.

Your turn! Have fun!

First Chapter

2009-03-09T14:17:00.000-07:00

I've been doing a lot of reworking and revamping of one of my manuscripts, and have cleaned it up a lot since the first time I posted it.

So, without further ado, I give you the first chapter in the exciting and new version of Dying for Dragons!

Enjoy!

Dying for Dragons

2009-03-09T13:50:00.000-07:00

Finding Fantasy: Book One
Dying for Dragons

Chapter One

Los Angeles, California:

Dr. Lupkin’s eyes flickered to the bottom of the page. Only one more paragraph.
Good.

In conclusion, dragons have been a part of the history and mythology of many different cultures throughout the world. There is evidence to support the theory that the large reptiles we know of as dinosaurs may indeed have been what our myths and legends refer to as dragons, and that these folk tales are indeed historical facts. Dragons were actual creatures that roamed the earth during ancient and medieval times.

Dr. Lupkin set the sheaf of papers on his already cluttered desk and straightened his back. It ached from being hunched over as he read the Master’s thesis that he was supposed to be evaluating.
Although his tiny window faced west, the sun had almost set, leaving his office dim, with only the pale glow of the lamp on his desk to light it. Sighing, he leaned back, almost touching the stark white wall with the top of the reclining, swiveling office chair. The chair was the brilliant find from an office supply store closeout, and he paid a lot for it, even at the reduced price. It was worth the investment, however, considering how much time he spent in it.
Taking his glasses off, he set them on top of the papers and rubbed the dents on the bridge of his nose. He often had a hard time with the things Emma Harris turned in. She was a bright student--brilliant, even--but she entertained some wild ideas. Always, she did her research, and her papers were well thought out and intelligently written. Although her subject matter tended to be somewhat… controversial, he typically gave her good grades, because she met the requirements to the letter.
He had not expected her to do this for her thesis, however.
Perhaps he should have expected it—he knew her well enough—but still, for her Master’s thesis? He’d expected something more… conventional. He shuffled through the papers until he found her introductory paragraph. Adjusting his glasses back on his nose, he began to read.

Many of the folk tales and legends that we today think of as fantasies and fairy tales are based in real, historical occurrences. Ancient rituals and ceremonies, triggered by historical events, have been passed down through the ages and have developed into religious practices and ceremonies that people around the world still use today. One thing that seems to have gotten lost in the realm of fantasy, however, is the existence of dragons. There are many evidences to suggest that dragons were real creatures. One example is the existence of related animals, such as dinosaurs and great lizards. Another example is the existence of extensive mythology regarding huge, fire-breathing lizards throughout many cultures all over the world. Finally, there are many places throughout the world where native people still believe in creatures that we would describe as dragons.

Emma went on to meticulously describe and cite examples of her premise. She had done her homework—that much was obvious. Each of her points thoroughly researched, documented and cited, she had reasonable, compelling arguments. The paper was flawless. Eighty-three pages of academic superiority, from a technical standpoint.
But really, dragons? What in the world could she be thinking? What next, a doctoral paper on unicorns? A Time-Life series on leprechauns? He rubbed at his temples and took his glasses off again with a sigh. The fact was, she could not expect to present this thesis before a committee.
Perhaps he could talk her out of it. A brilliant student, she would make a fine historian, if she would focus and work on things that were a little more… well, a little more realistic.
Dr. Lupkin pressed the button on his intercom.
“Tracy, send a message to Emma Harris. Tell her to make an appointment to come see me immediately.”
No answer. Tracy must already be gone. He’d tell her in the morning.
He glanced back at the paper before him with a sigh. Redoing her thesis was the only option Emma had if she wanted to graduate.

####

Emma Harris pulled her hair into a ponytail as she hurried down the hall toward her first class of the day. A jingle from her Blackberry announced the arrival of a new email. She tapped at the buttons, pulling up the note inside from Tracy, Dr. Lupkin’s secretary. Her glasses slipped down her nose as she frowned. She knew what this must be about. Adjusting her glasses, she pulled her book bag up higher on her shoulder.
Well, she might as well get it over with. The number for Dr. Lupkin’s office was on speed dial. It only made sense after the number of times she’d been asked to make an appointment.
Emma heard laughter in the secretary’s voice when she told her the reason for her call.
A sigh escaped her lips, but she realized that if she were she Tracy, she would probably laugh, too.
After clicking the “end” button, she maneuvered through the menu until she found her schedule and inserted the time of her appointment.
Something brushed past her shoulder as she swept down the hall—a firm, muscled bicep.
“Excuse me,” she said, looking up into the face of a tall, freckled young man with reddish-brown hair. She smiled when she recognized him.
“Hey, Emma.”
“Good morning, Nik.” She stuck the Blackberry back into her backpack.
“Distracted much?”
“Kinda. What’s up?”
Nik Gary had been in school with her since their undergrad degrees. He was working toward a doctorate in Biology. Although her Master’s program was in history, they still saw each other around campus quite a bit.
Nik adjusted the strap of the backpack that hung over one shoulder. “Hey, I’m glad I bumped into you. What are you doing later? Want to get some coffee or something this afternoon?”
“I can’t. I have a meeting with Dr. Lupkin.”
He leaned his tall frame forward, eyebrows raised. “What about?”
“He didn’t specifically say, but I’m guessing it’s about my thesis.”
“Oh, Emma, you didn’t!”
Emma gave him a wry smile. “I’m afraid I did.”
“What were you thinking?” He raked his hands through his shaggy, red-brown locks.
“I was thinking that I’ve studied hard and have come to my own conclusions. Dr. Lupkin told us to write something we’re passionate about, so that’s what I did.”
“What if he doesn’t accept it?”
Emma felt anger burning her cheeks. “He can’t not accept it.”
“Well, then, what if the board doesn’t approve it?”
She took a deep breath and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”
“Em, you shoulda just written on something you knew they would accept, and done the dragon thing on your own time.”
“I’m not going to just say what people want to hear. I’m not about that.”
“I know.” Nik brushed a lock of hair out of her face. His fingers lingered a moment on her cheek. “That’s one of the things I like about you.”
Her pulse spiked, and she stepped back, lowering her eyes. “Nik, don’t.”
Nik sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. Just friends.”
“I have to run. I’m going to be late.”
“Ok,” he said. “It’s time for me to fly, too.”
Shaking her head, Emma grinned. Nik never said “good-bye;” always just repeated that line from a song he liked.
“Hey, call me when you get done with Dr. Lupkin, and I’ll take you to dinner,” he called as she hurried down the hall.
“All right, bye,” Emma waved to him as she left.

Emma tried to pay attention in her classes, but had a hard time concentrating. What if Nik was right? What if her thesis was unacceptable? What if Dr. Lupkin was finally fed up with her, and recommended that she be denied her degree?
She didn’t have time to write something else, even if she wanted to. But she didn’t want to, that was just the problem.
When she began the program it was because she thought in History she could really find something to work on that she believed in. Nik wanted her to go into Biology with him, but she couldn’t reconcile her own beliefs with the evolutionary teachings that permeated the Science and Biology realms. At least with History, she thought, there was fact and fiction, not fuzzy grey area that could be interpreted differently, let alone teachings that she completely disagreed with.
It would have been far worse in Biology, she reminded herself.
She received poor marks during her undergrad Biology classes for writing papers and answering questions that were contrary to the textbooks from which her teachers got their lectures.
She’d considered bucking every accepted theory in her effort to disprove the common beliefs about origins, but she opted to just change majors instead. But the same trouble followed her to the History department.
She couldn’t seem to help it. Once she got an idea in her head, all she could do was to run with it.
She glanced at the empty chair behind Tracy’s desk as she passed, and went on toward Dr. Lupkin’s office. Her stomach did backflip as she knocked on the door.
“Come in,” she heard from inside.
The distinctive smell of his office—stale coffee, pipe tobacco smoke, and peppermint candy—pervaded her nostrils as she pushed open the door.
Dr. Lupkin looked up from behind the mounds of papers on his desk. “Ah, Miss Harris, I’m glad you’re here. Sit down.”
She ambled over to the small chair in front of his cluttered desk.
“Do you know why I asked you to come in?” Dr. Lupkin asked.
Emma nodded. “I think so, Sir. My thesis?”
Dr. Lupkin nodded. “It is very well written, very clear and concise… it’s just… somewhat unorthodox.”
“I understand, Sir.”
Dr. Lupkin removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The thing is, I’m not sure that the board will accept it.”
“I understand that, Sir.” Despite the fact that she was usually there for some sort of reprimand, she always felt comfortable, welcome in the worn chair across from the desk. Like it was a place where learning happened on its own, and she could absorb it just by being there.
Dr. Lupkin sighed. “Listen, Miss Harris, I’m not sure I’m getting through to you. You’re one of my best students, and I don’t want to see you fail because of this.” He tapped the pages in front of him with the edge of his glasses. “So, I have decided that if you wish to write your thesis on something else, I will grant you a continuance.”
Emma’s skin prickled with frustration. After all her hard work, he wanted her to do something entirely new. No thanks. “Thank you for your consideration, Sir, but I will not be rewriting my thesis.”
“I see. Would you like to explain to me why not?”
“Because, Sir, I believe that it would be a compromise of my character, and I believe it would undermine my education.”
Dr. Lupkin furrowed his bushy eyebrows. “Would you care to expound on that?”
“Well, Sir, I came to school to learn. I’ve studied hard in all of my classes and have done mountains of research. My research has led me to certain conclusions, and I have made an effort to be true to those conclusions. If I were to start over and write something else, it would imply that I am only here to get a piece of paper stating that I have a degree, not to deepen my knowledge.”
Dr. Lupkin’s eyes bulged, but she wasn’t done.
“Moreover, if I were to change the topic of my thesis just to please the board, it would mean that I am ashamed of the beliefs I have and the conclusions I have come to, and that would be contrary to my character.”
Dr. Lupkin took a deep breath. “You do realize that you will probably be the laughingstock of the historical and academic communities?”
“Well, Sir, I like to think that I’m just ahead of my time.”
Dr. Lupkin raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”
“You always tell us not to be afraid to think outside the box, and that most of the greatest thinkers were scoffed at until long after their deaths. I intend to prove my thesis, somehow, and even if I’m laughed at now, someday the truth will come to light.”
Dr. Lupkin chuckled. “I suppose I can’t very well argue with my own advice. If that is your decision, I will turn this into the board immediately.”
“Thank you, Sir.”

Emma left Dr. Lupkin’s office with a light heart, despite the nagging worry that no one would ever take her seriously and she would be denied her degree.
She hurried toward her car, hurrying so she could get home to get ready for dinner with Nik. Thinking about him brought a sigh to her lips, and a flood of feelings she chose to ignore.
She pulled out her phone and called him on her way home. Getting his voicemail, she left a message. “Hey, Nik, it’s about 4:00. I’m on my way home. Give me about an hour to get ready, ok? I’ll see you between 5:30 and 6. Bye.”
At her apartment twenty minutes later, Emma dabbled at her homework while she waited for Kelly to get out of the shower. Soon, she heard the water shut off, and Kelly moving around getting dressed.
Kelly came out, her hair wrapped in a towel, another towel wrapped around her enviable figure. “Oh, hi, you’re home.”
“Yeah. Are you done in there?”
“I can be. I was gonna to do my hair, but I can do it in my room.” Kelly’s hair, a gorgeous mass of dark curls, the perfect blend of two races, took a lot of work to maintain. “You going out tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“On a date?” Kelly teased.
“No, just with Nik.”
“That’s totally a date,” Kelly grinned.
“Not really.”
“Well, why not then? It should be.”
“You know why.”
“Yeah, but I still don’t get it. Nik is crazy about you, and I think you like him more than you’ll admit.”
“That’s not the issue, and you know it.”
Kelly sat down next to her at the table. “Here’s the thing, Em. Sometimes you have to pick your battles, and be thankful for the small victories. Nik has changed some for you, so you should be willing to meet him half-way. You know, compromise a little.”
Emma sighed. “Unfortunately, compromise is the one thing I can’t do.”
Kelly rolled her eyes. “I admire your conviction, really, I do, but that attitude won’t get you anywhere. You and Nik are pretty much perfect for each other. I mean, you both have the same dumb sense of humor, you both love the outdoors, you both do well in school. Plus, even if he doesn’t share your beliefs, he at least respects them, and that’s saying something. If you’re not willing to compromise, you’re gonna end up miserable and alone.”
“Maybe. But I know I’d be more miserable if I ended up with the wrong guy. Or the right guy for the wrong reasons.”
A smile stretched Kelly’s full lips. “Whatever you say. But you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Emma returned the smile as she took her things into the bathroom. She didn’t expect Kelly to understand any more than she expected Nik to. The people who understood seemed fewer and further between the older she got. Even people who shared her faith didn’t always agree with her “extreme” and “conservative” views.
She didn’t mind, most of the time. Popularity had never been her goal. Kelly didn’t get it, but that didn’t make her a bad friend or a bad roommate. It was different with the guys she dated, though. She didn’t want to date just to date- she was looking for someone to share her life, and that meant finding someone who shared her core values and beliefs. Someone that wasn’t Nik.
After shutting the bathroom door, she put her glasses on the counter and examined herself in the mirror. Though would never have Kelly’s lithe figure or striking good looks, it still wouldn’t kill her to lose twenty pounds.
“I am a unique creation, fearfully and wonderfully made,” she told her reflection.
Of course, that was a lot easier said than believed. She examined the acne spots that were just beginning to fade. No matter how well she took care of her skin, she broke out once a month, like clockwork.
The joys of womanhood, she sighed.
Turning on the shower, she began to undress, and tried not to focus on the roll around her stomach that seemed to be larger than usual. Cramming for finals over coffee and French fries at Denny’s sure didn’t help things.
Thoughts of Nik invaded her mind again as she stepped into the shower. Leaning against the tile-covered wall, she sighed. She knew why she liked him. Well, there were a million reasons, but one of the main one was that he always made her feel attractive.
She rarely drew a second glance from most guys.
The really attractive people always manage to find each other. The athletic guys always seemed to date the thin, gorgeous cheerleaders, and the smart guys always managed to find the shy, sweet, beauties.
Emma knew she wasn’t ugly, just plainer than most girls, and so she got passed over much of the time. The few guys who had asked her out had mostly been shy, wall-flower types.
I’m not picky. I just don’t want to settle for someone who is less than my ideal. And I don’t want to be settled for either. I don’t want to date someone just because neither of us could get a date with anyone else.
It wasn’t like that with Nik. They were friends right away, even though he’d been dating someone else when they first met. That relationship didn’t last long, and ever since, Nik had pursued her.
As she lathered the shampoo in her hair, her mind ran back to that morning, the way he touched her face as he pushed her hair aside.
“Your hair is so soft,” he told her more than once. She always thought of it as “mousy.”
“I love that you’re not afraid to argue with me,” he said another time. “Most girls are either really dense, or even if they’re smart, they end up agreeing with everything I say, whether they really think it or not.”
She had dated some guys who, although sweet and sincere and even godly, just weren’t up to her standard of intelligence. Not that she was a genius or anything, but she always felt like she was talking down to them. While she and Nik disagreed on nearly everything, they could at least have a reasonable debate, and they always managed to remain friends, no matter how much they disagreed.
Her mother would say Nik was “quite a catch.” And somebody would catch him sooner or later. Emma blinked back the tears that welled up behind her eyes, wishing, not for the first time, that it could be her.
She rinsed the conditioner from her hair and turned off the water. Nik would be there soon—she should hurry.
It will never be easy, she sighed as she stepped from the shower.
Kelly was probably right about one thing—she and Nik were pretty much as good as dating.
But she couldn’t make that jump from “just friends” to “seeing each other.” The moment she allowed their friendship to have even the title of more than that, it was wrong. She and Nik could never be more than friends, and if she were smart, she would back away now, before it hurt them both more.

How I Met Your Father

2009-03-06T22:12:00.000-08:00

Click Here to read the beginning of the story.

Part Thirteen: Fate Makes an Appearance

You know those email forwards you used to get that are now "notes" on Facebook and you can tag your friends, that you have to answer 537,315 questions about yourself? Questions like "Red or Blue?" "Chocolate or Vanilla?" "Boxers or Briefs?" "Roller Coaster or Stroll in the Park?" Those emails that you're supposed to send back to the person who sent it to you along with 47,652 more friends, with the implication being that you'll get to know each other SO much better, since everyone you've ever met cares whether you prefer pepperoni or Hawaiian pizza...

Never Gonna Happen and I had kept in touch via email from time to time, and one day I forwarded him one of those questionnaires.

It just so happened that Pooky sent him the same one about the same time.

He sent it back, with a note to both Pooky and myself expressing how he hated this sort of thing but that, since we were both such good friends of his, he was sending it back to us.

He made a few funny comments for his answers, so I replied back to him, commenting on his comments.

He replied back the next day, commenting on my comments about his comments, and within virtually no time were were emailing every day.

As the small Bible college rumor mill runs, everybody talking to everybody else about what is going on in everyone's lives, I assumed that Never Gonna Happen had heard that I broke up with Little Tony, so I never mentioned it.

Meanwhile, Never Gonna Happen and I were emailing every day. What started as a reply to a reply to a reply became an ongoing obsession. The meaning between the lines grew thicker and thicker as our conversations progressed to flirtations.

Never Gonna Happen had some vacation time due him. At graduation my mom had mentioned to him that if he ever "happened" to be in New Mexico, he was welcome to stay with us, and he'd met and befriended my brother. So, during one of our many email conversations, he said "Hey, what would you think if I wanted to come visit you and your brother and whoever else of your family's around at the time? Just a thought."

I, of course, jumped at the opportunity, and he bought his plane tickets, scheduling a visit for November.

Still, though, my relationship status had not yet been discussed.

Until one day, about a month after I broke up with Little Tony (about July), when we were discussing the weddings of our various friends.

Never Gonna Happen said something about my own inevitable ball and chain.

"Well, I don't have to worry about THAT anytime soon," I responded.

"Oh, so Prince Charming hasn't proposed yet, eh?" he asked in his next email.

Somewhere along the line, the powers of the gossip chain had broken down, and Never Gonna Happen had not been apprised of my current situation. Was that good or bad? I didn't know, but I sure wasn't going to let him stay in the dark for long!

"Oh... Um... I thought you knew. Prince Charming and I broke up."

So, now the air was clear. He knew where I stood.

But what about him? He didn't say anything about my current singlehood. He didn't snatch me up as soon as he knew I was free.

But he did keep emailing, and his emails were thick with phrases that could be completely innocuous or could mean something quite personal.

Conversations like this one:

Avily: Every time I think of you, I just think, "What a mature guy!"
Never Gonna Happen: Is that "mature" as in "ripe"?
Avily: I'm not at liberty to disclose that information at this time.
Never Gonna Happen: Pity. Will you let me know when I'm ripe and ready for picking?

and:

Avily: Just so long as my high opinion of you doesn't need to be diminished at all.
Never Gonna Happen: Of course! :) Wow- you have a high opinion of me? Cool!
Avily: Please, as if you didn't know that already!
Never Gonna Happen: I know. It's just kinda weird to actually hear it from somebody.
Avily: Well, I'm always willing to oblige.
Never Gonna Happen: Well, that just warms me down to the bottom of my heart.

and:

Avily: You can hug me as many times as you want. (Although I realize the potential danger of that offer, I figure it will be worth it.)
Never Gonna Happen: Good call. I'll try to make sure that it is.

and:

Avily: What can I say... I'm an odd character. But that's why you love me.
Never Gonna Happen: Well... yeah, I guess I'd have to go along with that. (Though not unwillingly.)

Or the conversation in which I informed him he was a muffin (about the highest compliment I can give to a guy):

Never Gonna Happen: So what flavor am I? (I never thought I would ask that question of a female, and with a straight face no less!)
Avily: You actually said that with a straight face? I'm impressed!
Never Gonna Happen: Mmmm, I've succeeded in impressing you!

My hopes soared with each passing day, yet it had been nearly three years since my feelings for him had begun. I didn't dare to think that maybe, finally, he was returning my feelings. I kept my emotions in check and refused to allow for anything more than friendship.

But then, something happened that made me start to wonder if perhaps he returned my affections...

Since I worked the night shift, I spent a good part of the day sleeping. Typically, I'd get off work at 7 am and go home to my mom's house. I'd check my email, sending an email to Never Gonna Happen, and then go to bed for the next seven to eight hours.

One day, I got home from work so exhausted that I didn't bother to check my email, opting instead to go straight to bed.

Sometime in the middle of the day, my mom came into my room and woke me up.

"Honey, you have a phone call."

"Mom, I'm sleeping!"

My mom and I have a very close relationship, and she knew all about my feelings for Never Gonna Happen, so when she said "You want to take this," I knew something had to be up.

I took the phone and said hello.

"You're late."

"What?"

In my half-asleep state, at first I wasn't sure what was going on. Who was this?

"You're late. I always check my email at lunch, and I didn't have an email from you today."

Never Gonna Happen?!?

He CALLED me?!?

"Sorry-- I was really tired!"

We talked through his lunch break, and as I went back to sleep I really began to wonder what he was thinking, and if, after all, it might be Meant To Be...

Free Rant Friday

2009-03-05T23:47:00.000-08:00

My Nook

2009-03-05T11:54:00.000-08:00

It's been an interesting couple of weeks. Difficult, in many ways. I've been dealing with a lot of things and struggling to trust God and to grow. If you read this post, you'll have some idea of the struggles I've been working to conquer.

I have spent a lot of time on introspection, working through the things that were in my heart. Once in awhile, this sort of self-examination leads to something really productive. In this case, it inspired me to create.

For a long time I've wanted to have some sort of "me" space. A zen, relaxing area that is just for me, someplace I can go to be alone, to spend time with the Lord, and just to relax.

There aren't a lot of areas in my house that aren't already being used, and if I tried to go outside I could really only use it about two months out of the year.

Well, as I was going through this mental journey, inspiration hit me. I figured out a way to re-work the space in my bedroom to create the nook I desired. Here are the results:

My dear sister in law did a couple of posts about having an area for a quiet time. Read about hers here:

Part One

Part Two

And while you're here, scroll down and play Word Game Wednesday!

Word-Game Wednesday

2009-03-03T22:48:00.000-08:00

All righty, are you ready for this?

Build a Story Workshop

We're going to build a story again, one sentence at a time.

The catch: We're going to build it using the characters we developed the last two weeks. Here are the pertinent details:

The Man: His name is Alexei Dostoevsky but his American friends call him Dusty. He is tall but uncoordinated. He can't play basketball like his father did, so instead he wishes to be a baker, despite his father's desire that he go to college for marketing. He has a bad temper. He is very good at poker, which his religious family frowns upon. To read more about his history, click here.

The Woman: Her name is Elizabeth Jane, but she goes by Elli. She has a good career as a business executive, but she lives in fear that people will discover her nervous habit of chewing her fingernails and her love of bargain-shopping at thrift stores. Her one indulgence is cheese, and she orders various exotic cheeses online. To read more about her history, click here.

The Story:

Elli eyed the tall, foreign man in her favorite gourmet cheese shop, wondering why she hadn't seen him in there before.

Your turn! As always, feel free to come back and add more sentences. Let's see where this story takes us!

Teaching Moments

2009-03-03T10:09:00.000-08:00

I have an adopted brother and sister who are of African heritage.

They were in town this past week visiting. I don't know what was said when, or how this idea got in my son's head, but it sparked an interesting discussion.

My five-year-old said to me this morning, "Mom, I wish I were black."

We'd just been talking about something Uncle Carver, my black brother had said, so I knew why it was on his mind, but I didn't know where it came from. Time to find out.

"Why?"

"Because it's cool. If I were black I would be cool."

What? Who told him that? I mean, sure it's true. Black people ARE cool, but he's five! How does he even know what 'cool' is?!

"Oh. Well, you can be cool if you're white."

"But I want to be black. Why can I not be black?"

Oh, great. How am I supposed to explain this? "Because God made you white. Just like God made you a boy."

"But Carver is a boy and he's black."

"That's true. But you're white because Mommy and Daddy are white. You look like Mommy and Daddy."

"But Carver and Jane don't look like my grandma who lives far away on a mountain."

There went that explanation. Darn genius child and his over-developed critical thinking skills! Okay, so he understands that there's a discrepancy between what I just told him and the reality of Carver and Jane not looking like their mom.

Okay. No big deal. Just explain to a five-year-old that they weren't born to Grandma the same way he and his siblings were born to me.

"Well, Carver and Jane didn't come from Grandma's belly. They had a different mommy who had them in her belly, but she was very sick and could not take care of them, so Grandma got to adopt them."

There. Not too bad. Discussion over.

"What does 'adopt' mean?"

Well, inquisitive minds must be sated, and this may be a good opportunity for a teachable moment.

"It means that they get to be a part of our family, now. Just like when you asked Jesus to come into your heart, and told God that you love Him and want to obey Him, He adopted you into His family. Now you're part of His family, and that's why you get to go to heaven."

"Do Jane and Carver look like their other mommy?"

We're getting it!

"Yes."

"I don't want Grandma to get sick like that."

Not the time to explain about substance abuse...

"She won't. She'll be fine."

Whew!!! I did it! I made it through a weird conversation intact, and gave more or less good answers. I'm done! No more mature conversations for at least a month, right?

Or not...

"Mommy... will I be black in heaven?"

How I Met Your Father

2009-02-27T20:36:00.000-08:00

If you haven't read the beginning of the story, click this link, and if you haven't read Never Gonna Happen's side, read those two segments here and here.

Part Twelve: April Fools, Graduation and Separation

My birthday is April Fools Day, but in all of my twenty-something birthdays, I've only done a few good pranks. This year was one of them.

Prince Charming was working as the manager of a Subway restaurant not too far from campus, so many times Pooky and I would head down there to hang out and get free food. For my birthday, Pooky and I treated ourselves to a facial and other pamperings at a nearby day spa, then headed over to Prince Charming's work.

On the way, we concocted a brilliant plan.

When we got there, I leaned heavily on Pooky's shoulder, limping on one foot.

"What happened?" Prince Charming gasped as Pooky half-carried me inside.

"Nothing, I just tripped on my way out of the spa and twisted my ankle. It's fine."

I hobbled to a booth and sat down, elevating my ankle on the opposite bench. Prince Charming sat down beside me, and Pooky slid in across. I made quite a show of gasping in pain as she bumped my ankle.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Prince Charming protested.

"Yeah, it's fine," I said through gritted teeth.

Pooky examined my ankle. "It's swelling up pretty bad, Avily... Maybe you should see a doctor."

"No, it'll be ok. I'll just go home and put some ice on it," I insisted.

I made such a big deal of it being NOT a big deal, that Prince Charming got really worried. He was about ready to clock out and take me to the emergency room when I grinned and said, "APRIL FOOLS!"

He was pretty mad, but he got over it.

Prince Charming and I dated all that semester, but as graduation neared, we both knew change was coming.

Prince Charming had a job offer in California, but I made the decision that I wasn't going to follow him out there unless I knew he really wanted me to. That meant either an explicit request that he wanted me to come with him, or, better yet, an engagement ring.

I got neither.

So, as he prepared to move to California, I prepared to move back home to New Mexico. Who knows, maybe the long distance thing would be good for us.

And then I found out that since Pooky, Prince Charming, a few other friends and I were all graduating that year, Never Gonna Happen was going to come down for graduation. Despite my best intentions regarding Prince Charming, I couldn't help being apprehensive.

Harmony Davidson was the only one who really knew of my hidden feelings for Never Gonna Happen. I assured everyone else we were just friends, but Harmony Davidson knew better. We took long walks in the middle of the night around the neighborhood, talking about the situation.

I wasn't going to dump Prince Charming. I had made a commitment to him, and I wasn't going to break it, but oh, how my heart flip-flopped!

Harmony Davidson and I took a long walk one night as I vented my complicated feelings. Like the good friend she is, she didn't say much, but just let me talk as I extolled the virtues of my current boyfriend and tried to downplay the lingering feelings for Never Gonna Happen.

"I love Prince Charming," I insisted, trying to convince myself more than her.

She nodded politely, and we continued on. By the time we returned home, I'd managed to tell myself enough times that Never Gonna Happen was never gonna happen, and Prince Charming and I were a match made in Fairyland.

Naturally, my family came out to observe the ritual of me walking down an aisle to shake hands with a bunch of old people and get handed a piece of paper informing the world that I had, indeed, completed (with honors) the work assigned to me over the past three years.

Later that evening, we all went to the graduation party Prince Charming's family was throwing for him.

Never Gonna Happen was there, too, but I tried to ignore his presence as I danced with Prince Charming and accepted the accolades of our mutual friends.

That night, my mother shared with me her observations. "I just don't think Prince Charming is treating you the way someone who is in love ought to be treating you. But Never Gonna Happen sure seemed attentive..."

"No, he's always like that," I insisted. "We're just good friends. Prince Charming and I are still very much together."

Then my sister, without any input from our mother, made a similar observation.

What was going on here? Why was everyone trying to sabotage my perfectly good relationship with Prince Charming? And why did everyone seem to think that Never Gonna Happen liked me, when clearly he didn't or he would have said something when I gave him the chance the last time in town?

Anyway, it didn't matter. I was still with Prince Charming, and had no intention of breaking up, even when he moved to California and I moved back to New Mexico.

The first week of separation wasn't too bad. I got my first cell phone so I wouldn't have to pay for long distance, and called mainly during off-peak hours.

I got a job working at a Residential Treatment Center, doing the overnight shift. Awake.

Working nights was really hard to get used to, but it was a really good job, with pretty good pay for someone fresh out of college. Plus, it was more or less in my chosen field (counseling), so I figured it was a good place to be.

Well, after about the first week, things got harder. I had an increasingly difficult time getting a hold of Prince Charming. He didn't answer my phone calls, emails or letters, and he never called or wrote me.

Figuring he was just really busy settling into his new job, I tried not to mind too much. I put up with the lack of communication, the lack of attention, and the lack of any sort of effort on his part to maintain a relationship.

For a month.

At which point I sent him a letter kindly explaining that I didn't think it was working anymore, and I wanted to break up.

At some point after he received the letter, we had a brief conversation in which be both agreed it was the best thing, and officially ended our relationship.

Somewhere about that time, I happened to send Never Gonna Happen an email forward that would change both of our lives forever...

How I Met Your Father

2009-02-26T23:24:00.000-08:00

The Continuation of Never Gonna Happen's side of the story:

If you missed the first part, read it here.

Part Eleven point Six: Gideon Got Fleeced

The flight to Phoenix was filled with anticipation, anxiety, and hopefulness. My eyes had finally been opened to the perfect fit that The One was for me, and she was even picking me up from the airport. I wondered what kind of sign God would give me, whether it would be "yes" or "no", when it would happen, and how subtle it would be - how would I recognize it?

Chatter filled the car en route from the airport to the college. The One, my/our good friend Pooky, and I had a lot of catching up to do on each others' lives.

Then Pooky dropped a bombshell:
"Did you hear that Little Tony asked Avily out?"

WHOA!!! What's up with THAT??

I don't remember exactly what The One said, but it was something along the lines of she was considering it.

Ok, God -- what does THAT mean? Did I just get my sign?? And it's a NO??!? C'mon, there's no way any other girl in the whole wide world could possibly be as good a match for me as The One right here. How/Where am I supposed to find anyone better than her? I'm gonna have to start all over looking for someone else. Seriously, God, what are You thinking??

That whole weekend I was torn. I had finally found (ok, realized) The One, but things just weren't right. Nobody was committed to anybody yet, but things had already been set in motion, and I was confused about the direction they were going. I was friends with both The One and Little Tony, and this was real life, not some sitcom or soap opera where the Knight in Shining Armor swoops in and snatches the Fair Princess away from the Wicked Suitor. The Other Guy wasn't going to be simply written out of the story line in the next episode.

He was a real person, and he was my friend. How could I in good conscience do that to him? How underhanded of me it would have been. He asked her first, and she had promised him an answer. What right did I have to interfere?

Granted, the timeline looked a little fishy: he asked her, I was coming to town, I was leaving town, she would give him an answer. Coincidence? I think not...

But I thought he at least deserved the dignity of a straight, honest, unprejudiced answer from her -- I would have wanted the same, were I in his shoes.

But she's perfect for ME!! ARGH!!! Oh, what to do...

And to make matters even more complicated and WEIRD, that weekend each one of them asked me what I thought of the other person. Ok, now how do I: A) answer truthfully, B) not hurt feelings, C) preserve friendships, and D) not come across as a jerk to either party?

Little Tony asked first. At some point when he and I happened to be alone for a few minutes, he asked me point-blank, "What do you think of Avily?" Believe you me, I had no trouble answering that one. "She's a great girl." (I'm pretty sure I went on about her quite a bit more than that, but you get the idea. ;-)

Then later there was a time when The One and I happened to be by ourselves. She gazed at me with a certian look in her eyes, cocked her head to one side, and using a tone of voice that was dripping with undertones, she asked: "What do you think of Little Tony?"

How in the world was I to answer THAT question? "Well, he's ok, but I'm a lot cooler." "Actually, he's kind of a jerk." "A total loser." "Who cares? Check ME out!" Right. And then what would happen? Cut down Little Tony in an attempt to steal her away from him, then fly away home? You know what they say about long-distance relationships, right? They never work out.

But she was clearly fishing for something. What was up with that look, and that tone of voice? I had a sneaky suspicion that if I gave any other answer, drama would most certainly ensue, and I wasn't so sure it would have been good.

Besides, I had asked God for a CLEAR sign, not a convoluted one. I'm not the best at taking hints...

On the one hand, God acquiesced to Gideon's request for a clear sign not once, but twice. (Judges 6)

On the other hand, things can turn out badly when people try to accomplish what they think is God's will in their own way and in their own timing -- it sure was handy that God's promise to Abraham of a son could be fulfilled through Hagar, since clearly Sarah wasn't getting any pregnanter. And we know how well THAT worked out... (Genesis 16)

On the other other hand, God gave Eliezer a clear sign when he found Rebekah for Isaac. (Genesis 24)

On the other other other hand, consider the mess and drama that followed Jacob stealing and deceiving his way to Esau's birthright (Genesis 25) and blessing. (Genesis 27)

I decided that as crazy as it seemed, God was still in control, He knew what He was doing, and He had my best interests in mind. Ok, God, I'll trust You with my wife, even if it's not to be Avily. OBVIOUSLY, You must have someone in mind EVEN BETTER than Avily to be my wife, I just don't know it yet.

"He's a great guy."

Well, clearly, I had just let her down. But I had spoken truthfully, with a clear conscience, and there was no drama. I hopped a plane home, wondering just how much longer I was going to have to wait for The Real One.

Shortly after that I heard that they had started dating. I resigned myself to knowing Tony's Girl as a really good friend, and nothing more.

Word Game Wednesday

2009-02-24T21:54:00.000-08:00

Last week's Build a Character worked out so well, we're going to do it again.

Here are the rules:

1. Add a detail to flesh out this character

2. Give some background about that detail

For example, if the character has blue eyes, explain that even though both of his/her parents had brown eyes, both his/her grandmothers had blue eyes, and so s/he got that recessive gene. Or, if s/he's afraid of monkeys, explain how s/he got too close to the bars at the zoo and a monkey pulled his/her hair out.

We need to fill in all the basics, such as name, age, where s/he works, his/her hobbies and favorite music, etc., but you can make up whatever you want and add any silly details you like.

But don't forget to be consistent with the people ahead of you! For example, if someone says s/he has blue eyes, don't make him/her half African and half Hispanic! Work in a detail that makes sense with the characteristics already provided.

Here's my contribution:

The character is female this time.

Your turn! Help me figure out who this gal is!

How I Met Your Father

2009-02-23T21:57:00.000-08:00

As a special bonus, I asked Never Gonna Happen to come and give his perspective on this part of the story.

So, without further ado, I give you:

Part Eleven point Five: Catching a Clue

Like Avily, I also had made the decision a long time ago that I wasn't going to date around just to date. I dated a girl my senior year of high school, and sometime after that I asked God that my next girlfriend would be my wife.

I was serious enough about it that I even jotted down a list of some of the things I was looking for in a woman. For example, the highest priority was that she had to be a Christian. Not a recent convert, either -- I was looking for a woman of demonstrated character and wisdom, whose faith was put into practice and who exercised sound judgment in matters both weighty and trivial. Not an easy thing to find, as a general rule.

For the record, my decision to move away that one summer was a relatively sudden one. It just kinda came up as an idea, and then it just seemed like... well, why not? The rest of my family was there, my parents' house was no longer an option, and I had just freaked my apartmentmate out by being a couple days late with my half of the rent to the point where he told me he didn't think it was gonna work out and I had to find someplace else to live. So then, why not pack up and leave?

So I moved. But rather than going back to school, I got a job at a bank. Let me tell you, banker's hours... are kinda nice. And since I wasn't in school, and was paying minimal rent (living with my parents and grandpa), I had quite a fair bit of disposable income with which to make frequent trips back to Phoenix. Roughly once every semester or so, in fact.

I got to crash at my aunt & uncle's house (Kandi's parents) at night and hang out with all my friends as much as I wanted.

One day I happened to be chatting with my mom about one such upcoming trip.

"What are you going to do while you're there?"

"Oh, I dunno... Mainly just hang out with my friends."

"Who?"

I rattled off a few names, including Avily.

"Oh, Avily -- is she the one who...?"

"No, Mom, you're thinking of..."

And then I realized that my mother had absolutely no idea who Avily was. She knew some of the other people, primarily because of their prior friendships with Kandi, and some people she'd met before she moved away. But my parents had moved only a month or two into that first school year, and it was later that I had started to hang out with Avily.

So I started to describe Avily to my mother, and as I did, trait by trait, characteristic by characteristic, it suddenly dawned on me -- I'M DESCRIBING MY IDEAL WIFE!!!

And what fortuitous fortune -- I'm going to be visiting her in another week or so! So I decided to leave it in God's hands. "Give me a sign, like you did for Gideon(*)," I prayed. "Let me know whether Avily is The One for me."

And away I went to Phoenix...

*If you don't know the story of Gideon, look it up in the Bible at the end of Judges chapter 6.

Sermon Notes

2009-02-22T16:13:00.000-08:00

Like most sins, mine started out small.

Tiny, really.

Miniscule.

So infinitesimal it didn't even count as a sin.

As is usually the case, once that trifling little lapse in judgment took root, it wasn't difficult for the next microscopic step to not seem like such a big deal.

Sure, my conscience pricked just a bit. But that was easy to smoosh. I mean, it didn't really mean anything. It was so insignificant it didn't even deserve my attention.

Within an almost immesurable space of time, my teeny, tiny, so-small-it-doesn't-even-count sin became a whirling vortex of bad decisions, sucking me down into a habit of iniquity and justification.

Oh, and justification became an art form with me. I wasn't even trying to justify it to anyone but me, but I can be pretty gullible when I want to be, and pulled a couple of good ones over on myself.

Why? Because I was enjoying myself. I was having a perfectly jolly time doing exactly what I wanted, not caring about repercussions or the pit into which I was digging myself.

But the thing about sin is, it never affects just you. You may think it does, and you may think you're getting away with it, but people are going to get hurt. People you love.

Fortunately for me, I have a Father who chastises those He loves. Also fortutnately for me, I'm in that category.

Even as I sat in church this morning, I thought of new excuses I could make for my behavior, until God decided he was done letting me get away with it.

Our pastor is beginning a new series on the book of Acts. The sermon itself was an overview of the book, into which we will delve more deeply in the coming months. But my pastor said one phrase that the Holy Spirit used to convict me of what I was doing.

If I want to follow after God, I have to give up the things I want.

In the context of the sermon, it didn't really apply, but as I felt the weight of the Holy Spirit crushing the air out of me, I knew how He wanted me to apply it.

This sin of mine was consuming me. It was something I wanted out of purely selfish motivations, something I craved despite how it destroyed me and affected those around me.

But despite my very human failings, I desperately want to follow after God. And quite clearly, I saw that it meant giving up what I wanted.

The weight of my sin bowed my shoulders, and I had to escape to the Ladies room. Bowing my head against the sink, I felt the cleansing breath of God's forgiveness washing over me.

Naturally, it's not that easy. I needed not only God's forgiveness, but the forgiveness of those who were hurt by my actions.

But confessing to God gave me the strength to turn from what I wanted in order to follow Him, and begin the steps I needed to take to make it right.

How I Met Your Father

2009-02-20T23:01:00.000-08:00

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

Part Eleven: Behold, A Sign is Given

I made up my mind not to say anything to Far Away about Little Tony. I didn't want my potential relationship with Little Tony to color any feelings Far Away might have had, and I wanted to be able to judge whether or not Far Away might be interested without any outside influences.

Of course, as with most of the plans I make, it didn't work out that way.

Pooky and I went together to pick Far Away up at the airport. Being the good friends of his that we were, we couldn't let him come to town unembarrassed, so we dressed up in our most fashionable thrift-store clothing, teased our hair into oblivion, and smeared lipstick on our teeth to greet him at the gate.

I waited with bated breath as he sauntered off the plane and promptly laughed at our excessively stylish attire.

He hugged us both, and I grasped desperately for any sign that there might be more there than simply friendship. I held my tongue regarding any mention of Little Tony, waiting to see if there was any chance whatsoever that my feelings might be reciprocated.

Then, in the car on the way home from the airport, Pooky dropped the bombshell.

"So, did you know Little Tony asked Avily if she would be his girlfriend?"

Well, there went my surprise attack. I mumbled "it's not official" or something along those lines, and inwardly cursed my dear friend.

Still, maybe all was not lost. Maybe he would realize his chance was almost lost and sweep me off my feet, stealing me from Little Tony once and for all.

He didn't.

The weekend passed with no indication that I could detect of any mutual affection.

Finally, I could stand it no longer. I had to know for sure. So, one evening shortly before he left, I sat talking to him on one of the picnic tables outside my apartment. I gazed into his eyes, knowing full well that the depth of my emotion must be mirrored there but not caring, and gave him one more opportunity.

"So... what do you think of Little Tony?"

No turning back now. I'd put my heart out in the open. I'd not-so-subtly indicated to him that all he had to do was say the word and I was his. The door was open. All he had to do was walk through.

"I like him - he's a great guy."

SLAM! The door of my heart banged a couple of times before latching completely.

That was it then. The sign I'd asked God for was given. The thing I'd been hoping for with Far Away was Never Gonna Happen.

Never Gonna Happen went home, and three days later I started dating Little Tony. My own personal Prince Charming.

Free Rant Friday

2009-02-19T22:27:00.000-08:00

What bugs you?

This is a chance for you to deposit your two cents, to rave about the things that anger you, to spout off about things you can't change, to vent your annoyance at the world.

Leave your worries and troubles in the comment section for someone else to deal with!

Here's mine:

It drives me nuts when people take offense over things that are not intended to be offensive. For example, there was a cartoon in the New York Post recently slamming the stimulus bill.
Several people took the cartoon to be a direct insult toward President Obama, which it wasn't, yet people insist upon being offended by it.

It's a political cartoon. The intent is to be funny and/or thought-provoking. Just take it for what it is and stop whining!

Your turn!

Word Game Wednesday

2009-02-17T22:51:00.000-08:00

Build a Character

I had an idea, so we'll see how well this plays out. The idea is to corroborate and build a character for a story.

Rules:

1. Add a detail to flesh out this character

2. Give some background about that detail

For example, if the character has blue eyes, explain that even though both of his parents had brown eyes, both his grandmothers had blue eyes, and so he got that recessive gene. Or, if he's afraid of monkeys, explain how he got too close to the bars at the zoo and a monkey pulled his hair out.

We need to fill in all the basics, such as name, age, where he works, his hobbies and favorite music, etc., but you can make up whatever you want and add any silly details you like.

But don't forget to be consistent with the people ahead of you! For example, if someone says he has blue eyes, don't make him half African and half Hispanic! Work in a detail that makes sense with the characteristics already provided.

Here's my contribution:

The character is male.

Your turn! Help me figure out who this guy is!

The Harbinger of Pain

2009-02-17T14:38:00.000-08:00

I called the endodontist this morning.

My prayer for the past week has been that I don't need a root canal, after all.

God said no.

After a half-hour stint in the waiting room, I was shown back to the dungeon where a mean-spirited assistant shoved plastic in my mouth for x-rays, and soon after that she went over the amount I would have to pay before they would release me.

The Harbinger of Pain came in then. He had kind blue eyes and a pleasant European accent, strangely at odds with the sadistic nature of his calling in life.

Again I was warned of a "slight pinch" before he repeatedly jammed his toxin-filled rapier into my gums and the roof of my mouth. I did mention that typically the medication wears off before they're finished and I end up feeling every torturous movement. In a surge of benevolence, he gave me extra and assured me it wouldn't wear off.

He was right. Only at the very end of the procedure did I feel anything at all, and was assured that it was normal. The main source of my discomfort was the aching in my jaw caused by keeping it open for close to three hours. I even had a giant piece of plastic agony, also known as a "bite block" to help me keep my jaw locked, gaping open.

A thought occurred to me as I lay there, half-upsidedown, my neck craned so that The Harbinger of Pain could get a better view, my head throbbing from the tightness in my propped-wide jaw, my muscles tensed as the instruments jabbed and drilled at me. The thought grew until it became a theory.

Here it is:

I'm pretty sure they're all in it together. These "health professionals." They all get kickbacks from one another, and they're all fueled by the drug companies.

First, you go to El Diablo Dentista, who insists you need a root canal. He writes you prescriptions for pain killers and antibiotics, receiving his commission for those, then sends you to the endodontist, for which he probably gets some sort of referral fee.

The Harbinger of Pain then does a lengthy procedure while you're sitting, body contorted, in his chair. By the time you're done with that, your back and neck are in such pain, you have to go to a chiropractor, who pays dividends to the endodontist.

The chiropractor then refers you to a massage therapist to work out the tension in your back, receiving a slice of income from the massage therapist for name dropping.

The massage therapist comes to the conclusion that your tension is due to more than being manhandled by the Harbinger of Pain, and refers you to a medical doctor, thereby earning her royalty.

The medical doctor runs a number of expensive tests, prescribes a bunch of medications, earning his stipend, but in the end, concludes that your problem is not physical but mental. He sends you to a psychiatrist, earning another round of compensation.

The psychiatrist is the most powerful of the bunch, because he charges an hourly fee. He pays royalties to all of the other "doctors" because in the end, all patients have to go through him. But he quickly compensates for that. An hour of his time is worth more than you make in a year.

You pay it, however, because by this time you're convinced there's something severely wrong. He insists on seeing you a minimum of twice a week for the next forty-three years, and prescribes the most expensive medications he can get away with, leaving you broke, high, and depressed.

All because you went to the dentist.

How I Met Your Father

2009-02-14T12:47:00.000-08:00

If you need to catch up on the beginning of the story, click on Part Nine for links to the other parts of the story.

Part Ten: The Superbowl, Little Tony, and Far Away

Bobby Pillsbury dumped me after a month. We had a conversation in which he informed me that the only reason he wanted to date me in the first place was to distract him from the girl he really liked who, for various circumstances, he couldn't have.

Then, to make matters worse, he got me a present. He had been out of town and seen something he thought I would like, so he got it for me. It was a little mini fake Katana blade (did I mention my collection of sharp objects?), about five inches long. It was actually really cool, in a wooden sheath painted black with little flowers. Something I really would have appreciated if he had given it to me when he wasn't breaking up with me.

I mean, seriously! What is that about? I wasn't even sure I wanted to date him in the first place, and he pushed and pushed, and coerced me into dating him. He even had a slight rivalry thing going on with Little Tony, and had no problem rubbing it in when I dated him instead. And now he was rejecting me? And in the process of rejecting me, he was doing something really nice, as if buying me a present would soften the fact that he really lied throughout our entire relationship, since he didn't want to be with me in the first place.

Big, stinky, mean, boy-person!

I didn't talk to him for about a month, but eventually we were able to be friends again.

In the meantime, I started talking to Little Tony again. At one point, we had a conversation about how neither one of us wanted to date just to date, and if we dated anyone it would be with the intention to see if that was the person we wanted to marry.

So when Superbowl Sunday rolled around, and we spent the entire game flirting and holding hands, it was only a matter of time until we had the DTR.

For those of you who didn't go to a tiny Bible college, DTR stands for Determine The Relationship. It's when a boy and a girl who are "just friends" have The Talk, to decide if they're just friends, "just friends," or dating.

Since we'd already had the conversation about dating being with marriage in mind, I knew that if Little Tony and I dated, we would very likely get married.

Little Tony was majoring in Youth Ministry, and I thought about the ramifications of being a youth pastor's wife. I had a great amount of respect for the wife of my youth pastor when I was in high school, and I did some work with the youth at the church I attended while in college. I could be a youth pastor's wife.

I thought about the things we had in common. We had a great time together, we shared some fun inside jokes, and we had fun spending time with our mutual friends. Yes, I thought I could spend the rest of my life with this man. If only I could get over Far Away.

And then I heard that Far Away was coming for a visit...

Now I was stuck in a bit of a dilemma. I liked Little Tony, but I couldn't quite put the thought of Far Away out of my mind, especially knowing he'd be down to visit in just a couple of weeks. I couldn't commit to a relationship with Little Tony without giving Far Away one last chance.

So I told Little Tony I'd give him an answer in two weeks. Three days after Far Away was scheduled to leave town. Coincedence? Well, I hope Little Tony thought so...

So I prayed that one way or another, God would show me His will, whether I was ever going to get a chance with Far Away or whether I should get over him, once and for all, and settle for Little Tony.

And I waited for that fateful day when Far Away would arrive, and I could judge whether or not he had any interest in me, or whether it was useless for me to wait around for nothing...

Free Rant Friday

2009-02-12T21:30:00.000-08:00

El Diablo Dentista

2009-02-11T21:03:00.000-08:00

"Did you know your teeth are supposed to last you your whole life?"

That's an actual quote by my sister's co-worker, but I thought it would be appropriate to bring it up here since, based on my visit today, mine probably won't.

My appointment was at 2:00. I arrived at the dentist's office at 1:56 and was promptly assaulted by the formaldehyde-like odor of antiseptics and medications.

At 2:10 I was led back to The Chamber of Pain. I carried the notebook containing my current WIP, figuring I'd have plenty of peace and quiet to work on it.

The hygenist shoved giant, sharp pieces of plastic in my mouth, claiming I was due for x-rays, then zapped me with potentially lethal doses of radiation.

At 2:22, El Diablo Dentista came in. A cold, cruel light came into his dark eyes as he peered into my mouth, confirming that I needed a crown.

"Open your mouth and relax," he commanded in his thickly accented speech. "You're going to feel a pinch back here." He pulled out a needle reminiscent of Seattle's Space Needle.

I guess "pinch" could be accurate, if by "pinch" you mean flaming stab of vicious cruelty.

El Diablo Dentista stabbed at a few more teeth with sharp tools while giving instructions to the hygenist, then told me, "I'll leave you to get numb."

Soon, tingling in my cheek and jaw announced that the poison was doing its work in my face.

A short while later, El Diablo Dentista came back. "Are you ready?"

No! I wanted to shout. I'll never be ready! Let me out! "Yep."

The evil glint came back into his eye as he pulled out his implements of torture.

My jaw stretched to beyond a reasonable limit, I lay there as he attacked. The smell of ground tooth fragments filled my nose as he continued to grind the drill against my poor teeth.

I think my body processes medication more quickly than other people's, because I always end up feeling him jabbing at my nerves after a while. Maybe that's why I avoid him.

Anyway, I have a pretty high pain tolerance. I mean, I had three children with no drugs whatsoever. I've often thought I could go into covert ops because I would do well under torture.

All I can say is, thank goodness my dentist wasn't trying to get any information from me as he poked, stabbed, scraped and drilled my teeth and gums. I probably would have caved as the rolls of blood-soaked cotton started piling up on the tray and the tools left bright red smears on my ridiculous blue paper bib.

"This is going to hurt for a couple of days," El Diablo Dentista informed me.

Well, no kidding! When you have someone pounding at your face with sharp tools and drills, bruising and slicing the inside of your mouth as they "work," of course you're going to be sore for a few days! I can only hope that's the extent of it. I don't want another root canal.

At last, the torment concluded, and they prepared my temporary crown.

I escaped at 4:06, owing El Diablo Dentista half my life's savings and my first-born. Despite the near-death experience, however, I have survived to chew another day.

Word-Game Wednesday

2009-02-11T08:40:00.000-08:00

Valentine's Crossword

Ok, you're going to have to use your imagination on this one. And possibly a piece of paper and a pen.

This game is going to be like Scrabble. I'll start with a word, and then you have to add to the puzzle. For example, if my word is CAT, then the next person could use the T from cat and write TUNA. Then the third person could use the letters from either word, but just like in a real crossword, all the letters have to match up and make real words.

So you couldn't use the A from CAT and say your word is HAG, because you'd have your G next to the U from TUNA, and GU isn't a word.

Make sense?

As always, feel free to play more than once!

Here's the catch: All your words have to be Valentiney. I'm a pretty lax judge, so I'll probably let it slide even if you are stretching it a bit, but try to stick with a theme here, okay? :)

Ready? Here's the starting word:

VALENTINE

Betcha didn't see that one coming!

Okay, your turn! Enjoy!

The Roommates

2009-02-09T20:44:00.000-08:00

So now that you've read the last segment of my story, who wants to know more about The Roommates?

Oh come on, you know they're the most interesting group of people you've ever read about!!! And I barely even scratched the surface of Roommateliness!

Ok, so since you're dying to know more, I'm going to direct you to my dear friend, Roommate, and fellow writer, Addison.

On her blog, Addison Rain, she's doing a set of stories about The Roommates. It's quite a hoot to read about myself from someone else's point of view! And I'm sure you'll enjoy your visit to her blog.

Two quick notes about that: Scroll down to the first post so you get the story in order, and also she gave everyone different fake names than I gave them, so it might be confusing, but if you keep up with both of us I'm sure you'll be able to figure out at least a few of them.

Enjoy!

How I Met Your Father

2009-02-07T07:50:00.000-08:00

Welcome to my Saturday Story! If you're just joining us, please catch up on the other parts of the story:

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight

Part Nine: The Roommates, Bobby Pillsbury, and Little Tony

If Bible colleges had sororities, The Roommates would have been one. There were eight of us in all that year (another got added after I graduated), and we centered around Apartment Fourteen. Only four of The Roommates actually lived in Apartment Fourteen, but the rest of us hovered in and out, spent the night on the couch, and lived a good portion of our lives in that apartment.

The Roommates were Sunflower, Kandi, Harmony Davidson, Dawn, Dee, Elise, Svetlana, and me.

When more than three of us went anywhere together, heads turned. Apart, we were just ourselves, but together we were a force of nature, blowing past the world, confident in our own ability to stun and conquer the earth.

Linked arm in arm, we'd breeze across campus, into our classes, and around town. Some of The Roommates were later shocked to discover that people thought we were a stuck-up clique. Well, duh! As The Roommates, we were. But as individuals, we all still had our other friends.

Bobby Pillsbury was still one of my best friends, and I still spent quite a bit of time with him, Roomie, and F. Roomie and F were married, and Bobby Pillsbury and I spent a lot of time with them, so some people still thought we were destined to be together, despite that I continued to insist we were just friends.

In fact, Harmony Davidson was so convinced of it that we made a bet. If I married Bobby Pillsbury, I'd owe her one New York cheesecake. If I married anyone else, she'd owe me one New York cheesecake.

And then it seemed as if Harmony Davidson might be right. Near the beginning of the year, Bobby Pillsbury expressed his desire to move our friendship to datingship.

I was still somewhat reluctant. After all, Bobby Pillsbury and I were just friends, I still had a special place in my heart for Far Away, and then there was Little Tony.

Little Tony and I had been friends before, and suddenly he expressed his interest in being my more-than-friend.

Now I was in quite a quandry. It was my senior year, I had my everlasting but unrequited crush on Far Away, and I had the attention of two really great guys.

Bobby Pillsbury helped with the youth group at his church. One night, they borrowed the college's gym for a game night or lock in or something, so I went along to help out for a little bit. They got some of those giant bags of candy, the kind you can get from Costco for Halloween, for the games.

I got a little box of Nerds and was happily munching on them as Bobby Pillsbury and I talked.

I extended the box toward him. "Want a Nerd?"

He put his arm around my shoulders, looked deeply into my eyes, and said, "Yes, I do."

It was then that I decided maybe Bobby Pillsbury was The One for me, after all.

I told Little Tony that I had made my decision.

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

I nodded. It was.

It seemed as if I might end up owing Harmony Davidson that cheesecake after all, because Bobby Pillsbury and I started dating.

That lasted about a month, and then...

Wednesday's Story

2009-02-06T10:49:00.000-08:00

Here it is! My, but aren't we a creative bunch! Thanks for participating!

Sarah Palin's unicorn was sick.
The illness was a worrisome one, and because Sarah was feeling kind of blue, she drove over to see her friend, Barack Obama.

But Barack Obama was playing ping-pong with his daughters' new Golden Retriever.

So Sarah stood outside watching the ball go back and forth, back and forth when she noticed the unicorn had turned pink!

Afraid that her unicorn might be dying, Sarah asked Barack if she could borrow Air Force One to fly the large beast to the vet.

Sarah Palin, also known as the pitbull with lipstick, boarded Airforce one and flew directly to her destination.

By the time she reached the vet, the unicorn was purple, but it was a very good vet, and in no time, Sarah's unicorn was cured.

The End

Word-Game Wednesday

2009-02-04T10:42:00.000-08:00

Build-a-Story Workshop

This went over pretty well the last time, so I have decided to do it again.

Rules:

Add a sentence to build the story. You may add as many sentences as you want, but each sentence must be in a new comment.

The Catch:

Your sentence must contain at least two of the following items:

1. A breed of dog
2. The name of a politician
3. An Olympic sport
4. Your favorite color
5. A fictional creature
6. Riding or driving
7. Your nickname or the nickname of someone in your immediate family

Ready? Here we go:

Sarah Palin's unicorn was sick.

Your turn! Enjoy!

Book Review

2009-02-02T21:16:00.000-08:00

I haven't done a book review in awhile, and since I read this really great book, I thought it was about time.

The book is A Lever Long Enough, by Amy Deardon.

Back Cover:

A small military team travels back in time to film the theft of Jesus' body from the tomb...

The Israeli team, led by Benjamin Feinan, has exactly seventy-two hours to collect video evidence. Failure threatens the existence of Israel and may cause the world to slip into all-out war.

Drawn into a web of first-century deception and death, the only way to escape is for Benjamin to change the past.

In the present, a traitor attempts to sabotage the mission and seize control of the military complex. Only Benjamin can reveal him, but he is trapped two thousand years away.

Even with a time machine, time is running out...

My Thoughts:

This book was a really good read! Very gripping right from the beginning, with lots of action, lots of detail, and just the right touch of romance.
Although it takes place in the future and involves a time machine, it almost doesn't even seem like a "sci-fi" kind of book, because the setup of the world is so natural, so similar to the "real world" that it could easily be a political thriller or suspense sort of novel.
The characters were engaging and realistic, so it was very easy to relate to them, and the bad guys were compelling enough to really move the plot forward.
Plus, there was just enough of a tease at the end to make me hope for a sequel, but still with a nice bow to tie up the loose ends.

What I Liked Most:

The action. Each chapter had a little countdown at the top, so it was very exciting to watch the clock count down and wonder how they were going to make it. It really kept the pace of the story up, making it hard to put down.

What I Liked Least:

Some of the historical facts and descriptions, while interesting, seemed to slow the pace of the story a little. Also, the message, or moral, if you will, seemed a little bit contrived, although it still fit nicely within the flow of the story.

Overall, I really enjoyed reading it and would recommend it. So, that's what I'm doing.

Go buy this book!!! Purchase it at Amazon here, or get an autographed copy from the publisher here.

Enjoy!

Sermon Notes

2009-02-01T20:50:00.000-08:00

My pastor is going through the book of Ruth. Today we were on chapter three.

This is the chapter where Naomi devises a plan for Ruth to get Boaz's attention. Ruth waits till Boaz is asleep and then, hangs out at the foot of his bed. When Boaz wakes up in the middle of the night, there's a strange woman next to him, leaving him with a couple of options.

1. Take advantage of the situation
2. Send her away
3. Take care of her

So, Boaz tells her that he wants to do what she requests and take care of her, but there is another person who has first dibs on her.

So Boaz, refusing to take advantage of her, sends her away, keeping her reputation intact, then takes it upon himself to go to the other man and work out all the details in order to marry her.

Three nuggets of wisdom were left in my care, to do with what I will, both in my own life and by sharing them with others.

1. That which is truly valuable is worth going to great lengths for.
2. The urgency of the immediate need can easily sabotage the long-term satisfaction found in obedience.
3. Wisdom is found in obeying God, even at the expense of what we greatly desire.

Don't let your fears about your immediate needs take your eyes from God's provision, or from your need to obey, even if you don't understand.

How I Met Your Father

2009-01-31T13:33:00.000-08:00

Part Eight: The Wedding Night

At some time during my college career I got a reputation for being scary. I don't know if it was my membership in the NRA, my collection of sharp objects and weapons, or my willingness to slug people in the arm if they needed it. Or, perhaps it was because they suspected I had Multiple Personality Disorder because I often wrote notes to myself during class... Anyway, Bobby Pillsbury gave me a nickname, based loosely on my maiden name, that quickly spread.

Doom.

But it wasn't just "Doom," it had to be said in a deep, booming voice, like an announcement of "DOOM!"

During basketball games when I was cheerleading, I would often hear Bobby Pillsbury's voice echoing across the gym, "DOOM!!!!!!" It quickly became a term of endearment, and I have to admit I rather enjoyed the sense of intimidation it aroused in people to hear "DOOM!" shouted out in public.

Roomie, F, Bobby Pillsbury and I all sat together in the classes we shared. The one we disliked the most was Biology. We sat in the back of the class, the four of us at one table, and goofed off. Since this was the least favorite class for all of us, it was also the most fun to ditch. The problem was, we weren't doing well, so we couldn't afford to ditch often.

One night, however, we decided it was worth it. Class was too much work to bother with, so the four of us decided to go to a movie instead. At the beginning of each class, however, there was a quiz. Roomie and F decided not to bother with it, but Bobby Pillsbury and I figured we probably needed the points toward our grades enough that it was worth it to go.

So we showed up for the quiz, and as we handed them in, we informed the teacher that we had someplace we had to go and wouldn't be staying for the rest of the class.

A few rows back, the class clown, Jammin', heard the exchange and decided to have fun with it. "What?" he called out, loudly enough for the entire class to hear. "You're getting married?"

Being of less-than-serious natures ourselves, Bobby Pillsbury and I both said, "Yep!"

Another girl, not catching that it was a joke, dropped her jaw in shock. "What?! You are?!"

We totally went along with it, announcing to the class that our wedding was the reason we wouldn't be staying for the rest of class.

After that, people began to think it was inevitable that Bobby Pillsbury and I would get together. I mean, we always hung out together,we got along great and had a ton of fun, and we were best friends. Then, Roomie and F started dating, so when the four of us were together, it was them, a couple, and us, just friends.

After awhile, the idea of dating Bobby Pillsbury seemed to take on a strange appeal. After all, you're supposed to marry your best friend, right? Why not? Well, one reason why not is that I was still holding on to feelings for Elusive Hottie.

But Elusive Hottie was Far Away, a fact continually pointed out to me by one of my good friends that year, Harmony Davidson. What were the chances I'd ever get together with Far Away, really? And not only was Bobby Pillsbury my best friend, he was right here.

Then Roomie and F got engaged, making the inevitability of a relationship between myself and Bobby Pillsbury seem even stronger, especially since we were both in Roomie and F's wedding that summer.

Also that summer, I went to Mexico for an extended mission trip/internship, which counted toward my degree, preparing me to enter my senior year of college.

My senior year began as everything a senior year should be. First, I had The Roommates of Apartment 14. I had my wavering crush on Far Away. I had my best-friendship with Bobby Pillsbury. And then there was Little Tony...

Word-Game Wednesday

2009-01-28T11:13:00.001-08:00

Today's word game is going to be just plain silly.
"WHAT?" you gasp. "Something silly on Avily's blog?!"
I know, I know. It's hard to believe. But bear with me. It will probably be fun. Enjoy!

Rules:

1.Take the word from your word verification in the comments section.
2.Make up a definition.
If it happens to be a real word, you can either consider yourself lucky and just write the real definition, or click for a new word.
3.Use the word in a sentence.

Bonus Challenge: Use your word in a sentence somewhere else, like on facebook, in an email, or when talking to someone in person or on the phone.

Here's mine:

Quenerva: A female spelunker who is in the top ten percent of those in her field.

Jasmine was respected as a quenerva for over ten years before she got careless and fell to her death in a newly discovered series of caves.

Your turn! Have fun!

How I Met Your Father

2009-01-24T15:50:00.000-08:00

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

Part Seven: Getting to See Him

Roomie and I had most of our classes together, and we also spent plenty of time together outside of class, becoming very good friends. She still liked F, and so we spent a lot of time with him, too. And we had another good friend, Bobby Pillsbury, who very quickly became one of my best friends.

So Roomie, F, Bobby Pillsbury and I all hung out together most of the time. The four of us sat next to each other in class, ditched class together, and went places together. I didn't take my car to school Freshman year, but I did bring it this time.

My car was a 1986 (I think- it could have been 84-85) 2-door Subaru GM Hatchback. It was mostly blue, but the passenger-side door and maybe the front panel was red. The back windows were the push-open kind, but they didn't close all the way so when I drove they flapped around. The car was a stick-shift, but it didn't go into reverse. That meant I either had to park on a hill or in a space where I could pull through. If those things were impossible, I had to put it in neutral and push it backwards to get it out.

The best part, though, was that the ignition was broken. Moreover, for some reason it had a custom tilt steering wheel, which meant that the replacement part had to be special ordered. For about twice what the car was worth. So, instead of throwing money away on this car, my dad, who is quite the electronic genius, MacGyvered it. He re-routed the wires, putting an on-off switch in the panel by my leg, and an ignition button in the glove box. To start my car, I had to first turn on the on-off switch, then reach over into the glove box and press the starter button.

Roomie christened my car The Deathmobile, and refused to ride in it. Since Roomie and I had cars that would fit all four of us, and Bobby Pillsbury and F didn't, one of us had to drive every time we went somewhere. Roomie hated driving, but as she refused to get in The Deathmobile, I usually ended up chauffeuring the four of us around in Roomie's car.

Anyway, the four of us were nearly inseparable. And yet we were all just friends. Roomie still hung on, waiting for F to come around, and even though I considered Bobby Pillsbury my best friend, I still liked Elusive Hottie. And he came down for a visit.

He spent most of his time on-campus, hanging out with his friends. Of which I, to my great delight, was one. One of the first evenings he was there, the school put on a coffehouse-open-mic-night sort of event. As I hovered near Elusive Hottie, I noticed another young lady also basking in his presence. Elusive Hottie introduced her to me as a friend who he'd gone to high school with, Pooky. Pooky had transferred in to my school from another college that year. As it turned out, we had some classes together, and we got to be quite good friends.

Apparently, Elusive Hottie moving away had been quite a surprise to Pooky, as well. She'd come to school expecting to be fellow students as they had been in high school, only to find him gone. That gave us a common bond that built a lasting friendship between us. During many a class when we should have been paying attention, we talked about Elusive Hottie. She even brought in pictures of him from high school for me to ogle.

During his visit, Elusive Hottie was staying at Kandi's parents' house. Since he was visiting and didn't have a car, Sunflower did a lot of chauffeuring him around. One night, when she took him home, it was very late. She dropped him off at the door and drove away. The thought flitted through her mind that perhaps she should wait to make sure he got in safely, but she dismissed it. After all, he was a big boy, and she didn't want to offend him by treating him like a child.

Elusive Hottie's aunt and uncle were already in bed, and Elusive Hottie didn't have a key to the house. Not wanting to wake them, he decided to walk the mile or so back to the school and spend the night there. About half way back, a car pulled over and a man got out of the passenger side. He carried something behind his back. A stick? A club? A tire iron? Elusive Hottie wasn't certain, but whatever it was, he had nothing with which to fight back. The thought that ran through his head was, "I could take him," but he had no idea how many more might be in the car. At least one, since the mugger had gotten out of the passenger side.

As it happened, Elusive Hottie had quite a bit of cash in his wallet. He'd intended to make a fairly significant purchase while he was visiting, so he had the money for that as well as all the cash he would need for his trip tucked safely in his wallet. And then this mugger accosted him and demanded his wallet.

Now, Elusive Hottie did not want to just hand over his wallet with all his personal identification, credit cards, and everything else in it, but neither was he stupid enough to try to fight a man with a weapon and at least one of his cohorts. So, being the incredible stud that he was, Elusive Hottie made a deal with the mugger. He gave the mugger all his cash, but convinced the man to let him keep his wallet with his ID and credit cards. The mugger agreed, took the cash, and, apparently feeling some sort of mugger generosity, only took the large bills and returned the smaller bills, then got in the car and drove away.

Needless to say, by the time Elusive Hottie got to the college campus, he was pretty shaken. He came to my apartment and knocked on the door. Now, boys in the girls' apartments was a BIG no-no, but I sure wasn't going to turn him away, and Sunflower, riddled with guilt, wasn't either. We offered to let him sleep in our apartment, on the floor in the hallway, but he thought better of that, and, not wanting to get us in trouble, went over to the guys' dorm and crashed there.

Elusive Hottie survived the rest of his visit, and then went home, leaving me to endure my existence without him, relying on my friendship with Bobby Pillsbury to see me through...