Lately.

Here’s what’s been going on with me lately:

- My parents moved here in August. They keep our kids overnight for free. My mom gives me her extra coupons. Life is pretty sweet.

- Chad’s mom moved here a couple of weeks ago. That situation is going to be somewhat more demanding of us, but we can do it.

- I went to Dallas in October and saw U2 with my bff Carol and her husband Patrick. I haven’t blogged about it because I don’t even know how to write about how great it was. Seeing U2 was in the top three of my bucket list. So after I write an award-winning novel and go bobsledding with the U.S. Bobsled Team, I can pretty much die happy. My only disappointment with the concert is that Bono didn’t propose to me. And I was counting on him to. I think he was waiting for a more intimate moment. Or it could be that we’re both married to other people and he doesn’t know I exist. But I’m trying to stay positive.

- Speaking of writing novels, I’ve been working on one for the past several months. Good writers don’t divulge too much about their works-in-progress, so if you want to know what it’s about, come to the book-signing.

- I've taken some time away from being involved in Chad's youth ministry. I kept getting signs that maybe I shouldn't be involved in it. This was very strange to me, especially since I thrived in it at our old church. I've really missed being around the kids. They IM me on Facebook and tell me they miss me. I'm thinking of easing back into it. We'll see how it goes.

- My depression is at bay for now. I spent most of this year getting my mind around some circumstances I once thought I couldn’t live with. With the help of old and new friends and with the unwavering support of my husband, I’m almost OK. Just do me a favor. If you ever see a sign outside a church that says “WE’RE TOO BLESSED TO BE DEPRESSED!”, go to Sam’s, buy however many dozens of eggs you want, and (at night and wearing dark clothes) throw them all at the sign. Because whoever put that sign up is stupid. And you’re doing them a favor by letting them know that.

- I'm thinking about grad school. The thought of me getting a master's is exciting and overwhelming and downright scary all at the same time. Should I start this fall? When I'll have a new middle-schooler and a new kindergartener? Should I wait a year? Should I never do it and lie on my death bed at 80 (after the novel and bobsledding thing) and let my last words be "I should have gone to grad school."?

I'll get back to you on that.

Have it your way

Fast-food marketing is getting weird.

Not just weird. It’s getting violent. It’s bearing arms. It’s getting angry.
Here’s the angry Whopper from Burger King. BK isn’t limiting such an intense emotion to their hallmark menu item. BK is actually encouraging customers to “go angry on any sandwich.”



Then there are the weapons of mass destruction. Quiznos has cornered the market on using weapons in fast-food marketing. Try one of their “toasty bullets.”



Or if that’s not enough, have a “torpedo.”



“At least the fast-food industry has left natural disasters alone,” you’re probably thinking. Oh, but you’re wrong. At Taco Bell, you can peruse an entire “Volcano Menu.”



Here’s their description of the “Volcano Taco”:

“A crunchy red corn tortilla shell, filled with seasoned ground beef, crisp lettuce, shredded cheddar cheese and toped (sic) off with our new cheesy, molten hot lava sauce.”

“Molten hot lava” didn’t work out so well for the people of Pompeii. I can’t imagine that it would work well for a taco topping, either. Of course this is the same establishment that offers half-pound burritos and pressures customers to have a “Fourth Meal.” Because Americans don’t eat enough, I guess.

I have to hand it to chains such as Subway, McDonalds and Fazolis, whose food offerings aren’t quite so threatening. Chick-Fil-A is also refreshingly peaceful (although their illiterate cows that “promote literacy” are offensive in themselves.) The most intimidating menu item at Jack in the Box is probably the “Extreme Sausage Sandwich.” But don’t let Wendy’s fool you. I was there with Jenna a couple of weeks ago, enjoying the fact that I wasn’t surrounded by advertisements for food involving violence, weaponry or catastrophic acts of nature.

But then I read my French fry box. And you know what? It made a pass at me.

Advertising their spicy chicken sandwich, my box read “…because we want to satisfy your burning desire.”

Excuse me? My burning desire is none of your business, you twisted piece of cardboard perversion.

Personally, I don't want my food to be angry or prone to violence or sexual harassment. I want my food to be happy and peaceful. And I definitely want it to stay out of my love life.

I also want the Chick-Fil-A cows to learn how to spell, but that's another blog for another time.

Leading the blind

Nov. 2 UPDATE: Brock and Sarah won! Thanks so much for your help!


Just a quick plug for our friends Brock and Sarah. They are trying very hard to win a contest so they can have new window treatments for these big honkin' windows in their house. They are neck-and-neck with the competition and they need your help.

1) Go to the Facebook fan site for Blinds Galore and become a fan.

2) Go to the photo of their living room windows and click "like."

That's it! Everyone who voted will be entered into a drawing for a $10 gift card if Brock and Sarah win. And Brock and Sarah are even sweetening the deal by entering everyone who posts the following to their Facebook page, blog, or Twitter into a drawing for a $25 gift card.

"Help my friends Brock and Sarah win blinds for their house by voting! It's free and takes only seconds:

(1) Go to http://tinyurl.com.../yjps9yt and become a FAN,
(2) Go to: http://tinyurl.com/yfqpk4l and click "LIKE" below their living room picture

Everyone who votes will be entered into a drawing to win a $10 gift card IF THEY WIN!"


From Brock: "Thanks everyone for your help! Only 5 days left in the contest! Whew! BE SURE TO COMMENT HERE WITH A LINK to your post OR EMAIL ME WITH A LINK so I'll know to enter you into the drawing if we win!"

My Favorite Holiday Traditions:

1) Baking Christmas cookies.
2) Drinking hot chocolate by the fire.
3) Making fun of all the collectible silliness in the Hallmark catalog.

And my catalog came today! So here we go.

Who doesn't love the oddities that are the Willow Tree figurines? And now we have the official Willow Tree nativity scene.



"Faces? We don't need faces! We have the Christ child!"






"Dear family and friends: Greetings! What a crazy year it has been! Last year, Dad got a promotion, Mom got into Junior League and the twins got into Princeton at age 12. This year, for reasons still unknown to us, we have become blubber-insulated flightless water fowl who have been commemorated on a Hallmark Christmas ornament. We now eat our weight in fish, shrimp and krill every day. At least we mate for life, unlike our neighbors, who unfortunately divorced last year. And at least we have faces, unlike those Willow Tree freaks."





Santa snuggling with a deadly animal. Hey, kids! Don't try this at home!

(I guess if Santa had another one, he'd be BI-POLAR. Ha!)





This adorable Rudolph lights up, sings and says "Don't cover my nose!" These things aren't cute. They are annoying. They're the kind of things you put up after the holidays hoping its batteries will be dead by next year.

Instead of spending jillions of dollars on collectible crap from the Hallmark catalog, why not buy something from the Heifer International Christmas catalog? Like a flock of chicks for $20. Protein-packed eggs can make a lifesaving difference in the life of a third-world child. Or how about a goat for $120? Or a water buffalo for $250? You don't really have to put them under your tree, and they can help third-world families A LOT.

Besides, I'd rather look at a water buffalo than this weirdness:

Talitha koum

I went back to Compline a few weeks ago. Because of other things going on, I hadn’t been in a while. But I felt like I needed to go back, so I went.

Compline at Little Rock’s Christ Episcopal Church has been my “church away from church” this year. If you’re having trouble connecting with God at your own church, you need to connect with him somewhere. So that’s what I did. And I became one of “those people.”

You know. Those people I’ve never understood. The people who run into church just as it starts and run out as soon as it’s over. That’s never been me. Church has always been the hub of my social life. Of course it’s church, too, but it’s also a place to see friends, catch up, etc. But now I understand “the church runners.” Compline was not social hour for me. It was a place to go away and be with God since I couldn’t find him anywhere else. I figured out how to time my drive from Bryant to downtown so I would be walking in the church’s big red doors just as the Compline bells were ringing. But I didn’t run out as soon as it was over. I waited a bit for the aisle to clear so I would have a straight shot to the door. Then I ran. Except for the priest and his wife who I said “hi” to if I saw them, I didn’t want to talk to anybody. And I definitely didn’t want the church custodian to show up, mop in hand, demanding to know who left the puddle of espresso eyeliner and Maybelline Great Lash mascara on row 7. So I ran in and spent the 15 minutes of Compline soaking in as much God as I could. Then I ran out.

A number of things helped me get through my clinical depression of 2009. Having a place to go like Compline was a significant one. I’m doing a lot better now. And I’m in a new house church that meets on Sunday nights, so Compline is going to have to become a thing of the past. At least for now.

But I had to go back one more time. If you spend enough time asking God for healing and he comes through, you don’t want to be like the nine lepers who went on their way. You want to be like the one who came back. So I that’s what I did. I sat there amid the candlelight and ancient words, trying to focus on my gratitude to God for lifting me out of a darkness that I never want to experience again. But I was distracted. I was hungry. I found myself wanting the choir to sing louder in case my stomach growled. We got to the Lord’s Prayer, which I always recite with the choir—making sure I’m paying attention because the Episcopalians lop off the end of the prayer and I have to make sure I stop reciting in time. But I was still hungry. Just as I was about to get annoyed with myself for not eating before I got there, I realized something. I think God was telling me to eat.

He’s done it before. After Jesus healed the not-dead-but-asleep girl at the end of Mark 5 and Luke 8, he told her caregivers to get her something to eat. And he’s told me to eat before. One other time.

August 10, 1992. The waiting room of the ICU at Anchorage’s Providence Hospital. It was a Monday evening and I hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before. Chad’s sister Gina had been in a horrible accident that morning and we were keeping vigil at the hospital as she clung to life by a thread. A thread that would slip out of her hand two days later.

Of course there was food at the hospital and restaurants nearby. But I was too traumatized to eat. Every bone in Gina’s face is smashed and she’s in a coma and I’m going to eat? It was unthinkable for me to experience some kind of comfort while Gina lay in such a state, her distraught family and friends around her.

But not eating for a couple of days isn’t so great on your body. I was getting weak and my hands were starting to involuntarily draw up. Sign of a potassium deficiency, I think I heard somewhere. Still, I wouldn’t eat. I sat in the waiting room while the visitors streamed in and out. Then something shook me out of my haze. A man and his wife were standing in front of Chad, who was sitting next to me. I heard, “You need to go take her to eat something.” The man was holding a twenty-dollar bill out to Chad.

I didn’t know this man. But I knew about him. He and his wife and baby were leaving for Russia soon to become missionaries. They were supported by a church in Anchorage—the church where Chad’s family had a number of friends. This man and his wife did not know Gina, but they heard what happened and they came. And now he was holding money out to Chad. Money for me to eat. I knew, by the way they dressed and by their chosen vocation, that twenty dollars was a lot of money to this family. We had money. I could have gone to eat if I wanted to. But the man insisted.

I’ve blocked a lot of memories from those dreadful three days out of my mind. Or at least tucked them away so that I have to work to retrieve them. But the image of this missionary holding a twenty out to my husband is clearly etched in my memory. God was telling me to eat. So I did. Chad took the missionary’s twenty and we went to some restaurant and, surrounded by talking, laughing strangers who were oblivious to the nightmare we were walking around in, I choked down some food. I felt better and stronger and didn’t have a problem eating after that. Which was a good thing, considering what the rest of the week would bring. I’ve never forgotten that man and his wife and what their seemingly simple gesture did for me. I remember his name and by Googling, I’ve found him in the mission field in Ukraine. I pray people are blessing him and his family the way he blessed me that day.

Back to September 2009. In Compline; stomach still growling. God has healed me and now he wants me to eat, the way Jesus healed the girl in Luke 8. So I did. On the way home, I stopped by Jason’s Deli and got a spinach veggie wrap and some black currant tea. I walked into the house with the Jason’s Deli bag and Chad’s eyebrows went up. “God told me to eat,” I said, sitting down at the table.

And this husband of mine who has been so supportive through my ordeal, who never left my side and understood or at least pretended to understand what I was going through...He didn't do anything. He didn't ask how much it cost, or if I thought it was wise to eat out for dinner after we had all eaten out for lunch that day. He didn't roll his eyes. Nothing. I married a good man.

Her spirit returned, and at once she stood up. Then Jesus told them to give her something to eat. Luke 8:55

Awkward...

Awkwardfamilyphotos.com is having an awkward couples photo contest. I submitted this one. You didn't know I was a circus freak on the side, did you?

Fame!

One reason I'm glad I never became a movie star:



Because when you become a movie star, sooner or later, your likeness is going to get molded into a hunk of plastic and sold somewhere. Oh sure, you'll get a nice cut of the profits. But is it really worth it?

Oh, well. I'm still going to see the human versions of these hunks of plastic in New Moon on opening night.