Crazy Hair Day

Last Thursday was “crazy hair” day at school to inspire being crazy about reading. Crazy hair day with the girls has always been easy. Numerous pony tails in weird locations, beads, hair bands, big bows, lots of gel or hairspray, and BAM! Crazy hair heaven.

But not my boy.

Now hear me…I understand why he wouldn’t want bows, beads, or tails (more like horns in this case). I understand a six-year-old boy’s desire to assert his masculinity, especially when little else about him exudes it just yet. That’s cool.

What’s not cool is that he insisted that his adorable blond locks be coated, no PLASTERED, with orange face paint. Mm hmm…you heard me. Waxy, greasy, left-over Halloween face paint.

See, it was all my fault because I hadn’t bought any spray-on, wash-out hair color. (MAN, why had that not been item number one on my shopping list?!) And the boy wanted orange hair.

So with about 10 minutes until the bus was due to arrive, I found what I thought would be an acceptable substitute for the spray (hey, it was orange!). A few streaks around his face and he’d be happy, so I thought.

Uh uh. “Mom, I look like a cheetah with just those few spots. I want it ALL orange.”

“Bud, you don’t realize how hard that’s going to be to get out. Seriously. You could be orange for Thanksgiving,” I tried to scare, I mean reason with him.

He didn’t care; maybe he thought the fall color would be appropriate. Or maybe he’s just stubborn. Variations on the above dialog ping-ponged for several minutes while his sister and I glopped on more and more orange stuff. (I know I probably should have exercised my full parental authority here and just shut the whole process down, but I can relate to the pain of not having my hair the way I want it. What can I say?)

The final result: a head solidly caked with orange face paint crowning a very unhappy face. His expectations did NOT match the outcome. Woe was us.

As I drove the kids to school (oh yes—we’d long since missed the bus), I tried to cheer him up, but when that kid’s in a mood, it lasts --where does he GET that?! When he got out of the car, three kids (one with orange-sprayed hair--argh!) approached him and I prayed that their smiles were ones of delight, not teasing malice.

He was pretty tight-lipped that evening when I asked how his day had gone. He said he “won craziest hair in the class but all that meant was people laughed at him.” Ah.

Shampoo, rinse, repeat x 6 = a very orange bathtub and not-so-orange-anymore hair. But it was still very waxy in texture and a bit rusty tinted. It would have to do. Thankfully, the next day was Friday and I heard there were other left-over indicators of crazy hair day besides the ones Skylar suffered.

What finally got the greasy waxiness out? At the wise promptings of the boy’s father, who is quite knowledgeable about hair and hair care products, I finally tried…Palmolive! If it gets grease off dishes, it should work on hair too, right? Three applications finally did the trick.

Here’s the whole crazy-haired class. Major props go out to Mrs. “Pippi” Wernz! I’m sure there’s no need to point out which kid is mine! ;-)

Trick or Treat, 2007!

This poor unsuspecting chef is about to fall into the clutches of...uh...of...now, what was I again? Since most of the effort and planning went into the kids' costumes, Shane and I came up with ours in about five minutes. I just slapped on some scary make-up and a hood, but I'm not really sure "what" I was!


Spiderman battles ornery Pirate Girl to save the Egyptian Queen and her treasures.


Spidey shows off some of his awesome web-throwing technique. He's so dexterous he's even able to web-shoot while protecting his candy bucket from harm!

Egyptian Queen demonstrates how to "Walk Like An Egyptian" to observers. Not only is it an appropriate cultural response to 80's girl band music--esp. the Bangles, but also to Steve Martin's "King Tut." (Oh yes, I really had the "45" for that song!)

More rad moves from Spidey--the "crouch and shoot" position.

Pirate Girl peruses the landscape in search of her ship. Be that her pirate buddies a'sailin' on the horizon, Matey?
Egyptian Queen demonstrates the side-to-side head move, another popular Egyptian dance.

Hammin' it up while waiting on the rest of the posse. Pirate Girl's parrot scouts the ground for snacks. "RAWW RAWW, Polly want a pumpkin seed."

The whole sordid bunch. Even Penny-Poo cooperated for this shot. She was dressed as a furry chocolate bar. :-)



Attitude. Nuf said.


Enjoying the fruits of Trick-or-Treating. Much bargaining, wheeling and dealing, and bartering took place. Ultimately, Spidey saw good conquer evil, Pirate Girl was content with her evening's plunder, and Egyptian Queen was delighted with her new treasure.



The rest of the pictures are from carving pumpkins on Sunday. WE LOVE HALLOWEEN!

Cave-In-Rock Trip

I hope you'll all indulge me as I share some of my favorite pix from our trip last weekend. We had a great time on our little get-away.

This was our cabin. It was a duplex, so only the right half was ours. We had a beautiful view of the Ohio River and saw some huge barges going by.

Here's the fam standing on a rock at Cave-In-Rock Park. It was just a short walk from the cabin. That's the Ohio River in the background.

This is the name-sake of the place, the "Cave In Rock" where pirates used to hang out in the old days and wait for something to come by they could ambush. Supposedly movies have been filmed here, but we didn't find out which ones. Shane asked some park workers for brochures but they said they don't have any because everything's online now. So he asked if they had internet hook-up. The answer? No. (?????)

The cave goes back farther, but I'm sure you don't want to see ALL my pictures! :-)



This was the scenic outlook at the Garden of the Gods. I was shocked that there were no fences or even warning signs, because one wrong step could've resulted in a fall to the death!

My nerves were shot trying to keep my eye on the kids and with all the other people around, it was tough. The kids LOVED peering over edges and slipping though tight spots. (I kept reminding God of his promise in Psalm 91:11-12. "For he orders his angels to protect you wherever you go. They will hold you with their hands to keep you from striking your foot on a stone." I figured they'd keep their heads from striking stones too, Amen?)

This picture represents my favorite part of the trip. We took a hike on a trail at Garden of the Gods called Indian Point. We got off the trail and scaled down from a high point to discover a bunch of little caves and neat places. And we had it all to ourselves! The kids also tried their hand at rock climbing (I stayed on bottom to cushion any falls) and Shane and I were both so impressed with how well they did strategizing where to put their feet and hands.

Back in Cave-In-Rock, we saw a sign for an old jailhouse so we had to go check that out. Like everything else, it was free and standing wide open for anyone to view. The kids had misbehaved so we had them apprehended and taken into custody. :-)

The big jail bust!

Oddly enough, the past came closer to the present than I would've thought. One of the most interesting historic landmarks to the kids was...a telephone booth!!! Shane told them that before cell phones, people had to stop their cars to make phone calls from one of these things. They could not believe you put coins inside. Of course, they had to check it out. This one was actually still in service.

So who'd have thought...The mystery of caves and rock formations, the intrigue of a den for piracy and the backdrop of films, an old-time jail that held real "bad guys" and...a telephone booth. We had a great time!

Woman Fights Blender, Blender Wins

Oh, it was going to be grand! A healthful breakfast packed with antioxidants, protein, phytonutrients, and fiber, AND I knew the kids would like it because they had all given thumbs up prior to this morning. Y’all, I was ON it—I was already dressed, preened, made up, and had now set out to bless my family with a nutritionally high-powered breakfast so they could tackle their day of learning and working.

I loaded the blender with frozen berries, vanilla soy milk, a dash of vanilla, and just a little bit of sugar. A little chop (for the ice), a little blend (to work it all together), a little liquefy (to thin it just a bit), and—BAM! A fruit smoothie that was even pretty in the dessert glass with a spoon and bendie straw.

Pouring out the kids’ portions had depleted the supply. So for Shane and me, I needed to whip up a new batch. Noooooo problem…

I had to open a new bag of berries and this particular batch was frozen together in big chunks. After adding the other ingredients, I hit chop, then blend, but the berries remained unified in their little ice berg. Equipped with too much confidence, I figured hey, I’ll push down with a spoon just long enough for the blades to grip the ice so it can start chopping, then pull it right out and put the lid back on.

The voice of wisdom faintly reminded me of why I’d had to get a new blender last year when I’d sent a spoon through the glass, ruining blender, spoon, and any hope of a frozen treat. But I disregarded the voice because, after all, I knew what I was doing this time.

Friends, did you know that when the blades start chopping at three billion miles an hour, you don’t have time to get the spoon out before stuff starts flying? About 1/100th of a second after I hit “chop”, my face, hair, ceiling, cabinets, and wall were splotched purple! Deep, dark, blueberry purple. Which stains. Bad.

So the first order of business was to get that stuff off the ceiling, walls, and cabinets. In their infancy, the stains washed off easily. This whole time, the kids were watching me wide-eyed and silent, scared to death to even move until they’d gauged my reaction. As I turned around and saw them in that state, I couldn’t help but start giggling, which opened the floodgates for a great family laugh. How nuts was this, after all?!

I was also pleasantly surprised that my clothes looked as if they’d escaped for the most part! Thank goodness for black, busy prints; if I’d had to decide what to wear all over again, I’d have been late for work, for sure. And there were other areas that needed attention…such as my eyes. Blueberry skins must be a little thicker than contact lenses because they were kind of rough on the ol’ eyelids. Thankfully I plucked them out pretty easily. They also must be kind of sticky because they didn’t want to detach from my hair quite so easily (did I mention staining? I think I’ve discovered an all-natural hair dye if you decide to go punk).

And the blender? Not a nick. It survived to face me another day, a day in which you can bet I’ll be a little more humble as I approach its turbo buttons and blades.

Swatch?

I was reading an article the other day about a new car coming out that's tiny, fuel efficient, and all that. But what I thought was most interesting is that the car's inventor is the same guy who invented Swatch watches! Travel back in time with me, fellow "coming of age in the 80's" peeps, and try to recall. What did your favorite Swatch look like?

Unlike everybody who was anybody, I did not wear eight at one time (guess that made me a nobody). I was a farmer's daughter who considered herself lucky to have even one. And that's all I had, but I loved it. It had one red band, one black band, and the face was green paisley. As I write that, it sounds butt-ugly, but then again, it was the 80's. And then there were the Swatch guards. We couldn't have our Swatches getting scratched now, could we? I had a yellow one, a black one, and I think a blue one. Sometimes I twisted them or funkified them in some other way. But they broke after too much manipulation. I don't know whatever happened to old Swatchie. Maybe it'll turn up one of these days.

You know what's coming...tell me about your Swatches! :-)

The Rescuer

I've gotten so behind on my blogging! But I was catching up on reading some today and ran across this video on Sanya's. I couldn't resist posting it too. Watch it to the end and you will most definitely be blessed. After I watched it, the song "Rescue" that we sing at church kept going through my mind..."I need you Jesus, to come to my rescue...Where else can I go? No other name by which I am saved. Capture me with Grace. I will follow you..."

http://www.godtube.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ee73e63418003b47d7d5&msg=Your+feature+request+is+sent+successfuly

Where One Door Closes...

Last night I shut the door on a pretty big part of my life. Literally. I closed my office door at ISU and walked away from a cleared out, empty office. I took my name plate from the door, put it in my “take home” box, and turned in my keys in the secretary’s drop box. Wow. I’d closed that office door behind me and walked down that hallway so many times through the years, often hauling a book bag full of papers to grade. Despite teaching English composition all those years, on my way out I began to get a little mathematical in my thinking…

Ten full years is twenty semesters. Each semester I had four sections, each with an enrollment of right around 25. One hundred students per semester is 200 per year, times 10 years is 2000 students. It varied a bit from course to course, but usually within a semester, my students would write five papers a piece. With each of my students doing that, it means that I graded around 10,000 papers during my time at ISU!!! I really don’t even want to convert that to hours because it might be too painful, plus some papers were a fast grade, as opposed to the research paper which usually took between 30-45 minutes per paper!

But aside from all that grading, I really did enjoy being in the classroom with those students. It will seem really weird next week to know that classes are starting and I won’t be there to welcome in a whole new crop of freshman comp students. And while I know in my heart of hearts that it was time for me to leave, and making the decision to get out of my comfort zone and switch careers was exactly what God showed me he wanted me to do, at least for now, I’m still a bit sentimental about the whole thing. So yes, I’ll close that chapter of the book, but I won’t completely close the door on what that chapter has been grooming me for: the possibility of continuing to impact people from the front of the room, whether indirectly or (prayer of prayers!) quite directly, striving to show them Jesus.

Bird Update

I'm afraid I have a very sad update to the last post. Our little cage-dwelling tweeter has flown on home to Glory. Rest in peace, little Buddy.

But on a positive note, the hummers are thriving as much as ever. Check out these snapshots and see if you can find them all...

We'll start out easy. This first one only shows three. :-)


These next two show six in each. Can you see them all? If not look for blurry spots where only a wing may be showing.

Pretty cool, huh? Fascinating creatures. I could wax philosophic here about how like hummingbirds we are, buzzing around with our "buzzy" lives, but requiring constant nourishment from the well-spring of life, the sweet nectar of our Saviour, but I won't. :-)

Eat Like a What?!

You know that saying “She eats like a bird?” As in, “No wonder she’s so skinny. She eats like a bird, ya know.” Well I’m here to tell you it’s a LIE. Birds eat like pigs!

Our household has turned into quite an aviary lately and it’s all I can do to keep up with the appetites of these feathered “friends” of ours. First of all, the hummingbirds are already on their fourth bag (and I mean, the largest-sized sugar bag that Walmart carries) of sugar for the summer. We have a pretty big glass feeder and even though I fill it with sugar water in the morning, it’s empty by the time I get home from work. It’s not unusual to see seven or eight hummers swarming the feeder at once. I’ve been dive-bombed many times as I’m filling the feeder, too. Patience is not a hummingbird virtue.

And now there’s a little tweeter that Maisie found at the bottom of a bush. We bought a cheap bird cage for it because it looks like it’s on the cusp of beginner flight school. Man, is he cute! Still has some of the fluff hanging on, but lots of feathers too. Good ‘ol Pop went and bought crickets so the kids could feed it. It’s also been feasting on blackberries, bananas, and the occasional earthworm or moth. This bird does NOT “eat like a bird” and when hunger pains hit, even in the wee hours of the morning, his not-so-cute “cheep cheeping” lets us know loud and clear.

So the next time you see a slim figure and decide to comment on said figure’s eating habits, say she must eat like a fish, squirrel, or whatever, but definitely not a bird. :-)

Jesus Was At The Hospital

A few days ago, the P31 devotion discussed making decisions based on the “Jesus Approval” stamp. I can relate to that concept because of a decision my husband and I had to make recently.

Many of you know that my six-year-old son had surgery on his feet last Friday. I kid him about being bionic now (think six-million dollar man!) because he had titanium implants put in each foot to keep his ankles from rolling in. This wasn’t a surgery that was considered essential by some, but Shane and I wanted it for him so that he won’t suffer the same back problems his flat-footed great uncle now suffers, when he becomes an adult. I had prayed for God to show me through His Word if this surgery was against His will. I mean, a part of me wondered if we should just leave the situation in the hands of the Great Physician, ya know?

But God never gave me that nudge not to proceed; in fact, I perceived quite a bit of confirmation to go ahead. I knew right then that God would use our being at the hospital to bring himself Glory and I realized I could stamp this decision with “Jesus Approval.” Just look at what God did while we were there…

*Skylar’s attitude was remarkable during the whole thing…no crying or whining, except just as he was waking from the anesthesia. Many staff members commented on his cute personality and cooperation, and I believe (at the risk of being a biased parent) that this kid was a tremendous witness for Jesus by his bravery and peace.

*When the surgeon came out to the waiting room after the surgery, he said, “God was looking out for your son today.” (I had my Bible open when he approached, so I’m not sure if his comment was based on that or if he would have said it anyway.) I said, “Well, we already know that, but what do you mean?” He proceeded to tell me that the place Skylar was originally scheduled to have surgery across the street (checking in that morning had been a bit “wearing”), had been evacuated due to a chemical spill! If the original plan had unfurled, Sky’s surgery would’ve been post-poned—NOT cool with school fast approaching--or worse, interrupted!

*A bit later in the waiting room, a woman burst through some swinging double doors crying. As she sat, her heart-wrenching sobs touched everyone within earshot. A few seconds later, a few other women came out behind her, one of whom was my friend from ISU, Mary Ann, the Department Secretary.

All the sudden it clicked! The woman who was upset was my friend, M’s mom! M teaches at ISU too but she was out of town. Mary Ann had come to the hospital to see me, check on Sky, and offer support to M’s mom, who had just found out her husband’s foot would likely have to be amputated because of diabetes. Now, what are the odds that on the very same day, at the very same time, I would be in the exact same place as the mother of my friend, both of whom had just learned some very disturbing information.

Warriors, this was the most visual, vivid call to prayer I’ve had recently. M’s mom was crying that all those prayers had been useless and when one of her friends said she’d keep praying, M’s mom shouted “NO! God had his chance. I’m not praying any more.” My heart aches for this woman and I so want to see her and her family have peace. Please join me in lifting up this family in your prayers.

So you see, The Great Physician was at the hospital that day. He was protector, orchestrator, encourager, and intercessor. He blessed, and I'm pretty sure he was blessed, too. I can hear that stamper now...

VBS 2007

Another year of VBS has come and gone. And with it came some commentary from the ankle-biters—some of it annoying, some of it hilarious, some of it moving, and some of it downright dumbfounding. Just to set the scene for these little quips, let me tell you how we do things in the drama department, otherwise known as “Bible Adventures.”

To transport the kids as much as possible from craft/games/snack mode, we bring them upstairs, out of the norm, and into kind of a mysterious place. We cover the walls with black plastic and except for a few strategically placed spotlights, the room is dark. The set varies from night to night based on the Bible story. We’ve had everything from campfires to the marshy banks of the Jordan River that kids had to cross barefoot (have you ever walked across wet, squishy towels? It DID feel like mud!). Since I mostly leave the acting to others so that I can do all the behind-the-scenes stuff, I’m hidden behind the black plastic, working the soundtrack or providing other effects.

One night our actor, Michael, instructed the kids to pray in their groups. One kid piped up: (and imagine diva-like attitude here) “YOU pray!” Michael would say, “Let’s be quiet.” The kid would retort, “YOU be quiet!” You get the idea. Hecklers!

On that same night, the crews were to discuss tough things or problems in their lives. I heard a precious little girl just inches away from me on the other side of the plastic, share that she has to move again because her mom got a new boyfriend. Wow. (Kudos to that crew leader.)

Kelly, who was playing Rahab, (we didn’t mention her occupation to the kiddos) kept “hushing” the kids because there were soldiers around looking for the spies. But every time she said “God is with us” they were supposed to yell “Wa-Hoo!” Imagine the confusion! After one particularly loud Wa-Hoo, which was encouraged by Rahab, I hear MY six-year-old’s voice over her following hushes, “But YOU told us to!” Murmers of agreement followed. Those kids thought she was nuts! :-)

On "Jordan River" night, as kids came forward to get a river rock and erect an alter, one kid proclaimed, “I have a rock and I’m not afraid to use it!” During that same chaos, someone apparently said “freaking” because a stern response of “We DO NOT say the word “Freaking” shot back and quieted things down.

Another night, Dale and Michael played officers in Joshua’s army and Dale was supposed to stall as he marched around the walls of Jericho. The kids were in pyramids (they were the walls, so the stalling was quite a problem.) It went something like this…

Dale: Okay, that’s four times around…oooh, I lost count. Let’s start all over.
Kids: NOOOOOOOOOO!!! That was FOUR!!!
Dale: Oh. Okay. Fiiiiiiive. Oh no. I need a potty break. Let me stop for a minute!
One kid: Go in your pants.
Dale: (Whiney) Ooohh…I don’t like to go in my pants—they get wet and squishy.
Kid: Do it anyway. Keep marching! (Oh, the lesson there!)

The last night, Dale was a Doctor of Leprosy and he used an onion analogy to show the kids how badly a leper would want rid of the disease. Each kid’s right hand was rubbed with an onion (they were rid of the smell by the end—really cool trick—ask me about it!), but in the meantime, imagine the smell in the room! These analyses were heard:
Smells like an armpit in here!
I like that smell!
Do NOT rub me with that onion!
Smells like my dog’s poop!

Well, there ya go! Fragrant oil was later passed around to symbolize Jesus’ sweet grace and healing. As the crew leaders put a drop of oil on each child’s hand, they were supposed to say something like “God loves you, So-and-so” including their name. One little boy grabbed MY hand, dabbed it with oil and said “God loves you. You be blessed too.”

And THAT'S what it’s all about!

She Speaks, Part 2

Meaningful experience #2—God works through us, even when we're oblivious!

To fully appreciate this “God-incidence” you have to go back with me to She Speaks 2006. It was my first time at this conference, or any writing/speaking conference. I had signed up for the writer’s track and on the first night we had the option of meeting with other writers for a peer evaluation session. Since Satan was doing a number on my nerves, I was on the lookout for friendly, encouraging faces. All alone at a table towards the back, I saw a woman I was just drawn to for no apparent reason other than she just looked “cool”—someone I could hang with. Plus, she was smiling warmly at me, so I asked if I could join her. Her name was (and is!) Lisa Marrone and I liked her immediately.

We ended up with three or four others in our group, read each other’s work, and gave encouraging feedback to each other. I remember Lisa’s article was about the Fruit of the Spirit and I loved its insight.

Throughout the rest of the weekend we ran in to each other quite a bit and would stop to chat. She asked how my appointment with the literary agent went and I shared how it was less than stellar. She didn’t have an appointment, but did have a book idea and wondered what I thought about her approaching him with it. My viewpoint was, “Why not? Go for it!” When I saw her later, she shared that she had pulled him aside and he seemed interested in her idea. I congratulated her, we exchanged contact information, and we parted ways at the end of the weekend.

Flash forward to early 2007. I was on the P31 website looking at the registration information for this year’s conference when I noticed a testimony in the side-bar. It was written by a physical therapist (hey, wasn’t Lisa a physical therapist?) who said the world of writing had been foreign to her (hey, didn’t Lisa share that with our group?), but because of the conference, was signed by the William K. Jensen Literary Agency and had a two book contract. NO WAY, I thought. I went to the agent’s website and sure enough, there was MY Lisa’s picture! She did it! He signed her! When this year’s conference rolled around, I wondered if I’d see her again or if she’d be too busy working on her books and marketing them to attend.

As it turned out, I didn’t even have to search the crowd for her. I hadn’t been in the hotel five minutes when, upon checking in, I turned around and saw that beautiful smile accompanied by a friendly wave. She came over to not only hug me, but to impart a warm kiss on my cheek. I congratulated her on being signed and asked how things were going. We had breakfast together on Saturday when she blessed me more than she’ll probably ever know. That is when she shared with me that when she speaks to groups, she includes me. A little confused, I asked, “What do you mean?”

She explained that when we connected last year, she took my feedback as confirmation from God for her to pursue her book ideas. She didn’t consider herself a writer at all, but knew God was asking her write. Though she doubted her ability, she valued my credentials as a writing instructor at ISU and said God used me to show her that “someone who should know” validated her writing. I was a piece of the overall puzzle. Wow. I cannot put into words how humbled I was by that. Praise the Lord! If you want to check her and her books out, go to http://www.wkjagency.com/ and click on authors. That’s my Lisa! What a blessing!

Ya know, we go to things like conferences and seminars and even church with our own preconceived notions of what will go down, how God will show Himself, or even what we will or won’t get out of it. As if we can predict God’s plan! I thought I knew my purpose there last year (why, to get published, of course! Ha!), but I had no idea…wasn’t even close. Praise God for using a broken vessel like me and praise Him for using Lisa and hookin’ us up!