10 Things I Hate About Me

Thanks Sherry at Life With Sherry for picking me to do this meme.

Of course, I can't be just like everyone else, so I had to put my little spin on things. Originally, the meme was to tell 10 things about your self, but since I've done those a few time, I thought I'd do this one with a twist. If you're tagged, then you can do whichever one suits your mood.

So hate is a really strong word. Let's change it to dislike and move on, shall we?

And it could go without saying that there are more than 10 things that I don't like about myself, especially if I'm running close to my "Give Me Chocolate And Back Away" time. Fortunately for you, I'm not near it, so I easily left it at 10.

1. I'm pretty self-centered. I've shared with you that I struggle with thinking of others first. However, God, in all his infinite wisdom, gives me plenty of opportunities to work on this one.


2. Sometimes, I'm dissatisfied and complain when I have no right to complain. Overall, my life is extremely blessed, and I need to remember that fact.


3. I get angry to quickly. Too often I jump the gun about a situation without having all the facts. My poor kids... at least they get to hear an adult say "I'm sorry" a lot.


4. I'm bossy. Sometimes it comes in handy; sometimes it's plain old annoying.


5. I cannot remember jokes! It's so annoying to get into one and then have to backtrack because I forgot a major part and then forget the ending and wind up just tapering off at the end.


6. I'm a terrible penpal. I started writing to Lori, aka Pezmama and now a former blogger, a couple of years ago. I kept it up for a while, but the last letter I sent to her was a Valentine's Day card. Somehow that doesn't equate to great letter writing in my book.


7. I don't always answer the phone. Most of the time I'll let the answering machine get it. I mainly do it to prove that the phone doesn't have power over me. This tidbit drives Mr. Right nuts.


8. I'm so forgetful. Sometimes I start something and


9. I get envious of others too often. This attitude doesn't always work well with trying to have a God-like life. I'm sure that God's envious of nothing.


10. I don't have the world's greatest willpower. For example, I need to exercise. I know that I need to exercise. I actually want to exercise. But if it's cold outside, I'll read a book instead. Or take this one, I'm full from dinner and quite satisfied. But I see a brownie and suddenly, I want that brownie. I need that brownie. I have the brownie, but then I regret my decision withing minutes because now I'm uncomfortably stuffed. The sad thing is that I knew I would feel that way if I ate the brownie, and I ate it anyway.

Okay now I tag Pam, Susanne, Chilihead, Sister Honey Bunch, Beck (this one should be easy for you, right?) and My Best Investments. And feel free to change the meme back to things you love about yourself if you're not as negative about yourself as I am.

1987

Tragedy struck the summer before my sophomore year. Mandy, my dear friend and confidant, had to move. Being in our military town certainly had its advantages: new friends, cultural diversity, southern upbringing, the determination to hold dear to others while they were around. The major disadvantage was that most everyone had to move just when you formed a beautiful friendship. So before our second year of high school began, I had to help my best friend pack up and move halfway across the state to Murfreesboro. So with many tears and as many promises to stay friends, I waved my sweet Mandy off to a new year somewhere new. As much as it hurt to say goodbye, at least I had the stability of familiarity and an established community of friends. Mandy was starting all over in high school. That’s not always an easy move.

However, God had a funny twist in store for me. Our home rooms, that first 10 minutes of accounting for each student’s presence, was divided up by last name. I was in the room that held M-P, which allowed me to start the day with my friends Danny and Jennifer… always a good thing when you’re in many of the same classes. We really helped each other with the homework not done (wink, wink) But suddenly there was a new boy in the room. He was quiet and well-mannered, but that didn’t stop me from walking up to him, plopping down beside him and commencing to hold a conversation with him. (I know, it’s shocking that I would make a big jump out there like that, huh?)

I soon discovered that I would have several classes with this boy named Ken. Like me, he elected to take the AP classes in almost everything: English, Trig, chemistry. Unlike me, he was artistic in an entirely different way. Where I was all about the vocal and dramatic art, he was an actual artist who left something of his talent to be seen by others. And he played something rather unheard of at that time – soccer. I had no idea what it was, but I soon found out.

So out stepped Mandy and in stepped Ken. God is good in so many ways. He knew that I needed Ken to keep my balance and perspective. He was logical, grounded – you know, typical male characteristics – but fun and witty, but not as the same caliber as me. He appreciated my outgoingness and sense of adventure as much as I loved his steadiness and outlook on life, not to mention his more intelligent answers to a number of math questions. He was a great conversationalist and (eventually) a wonderful movie/dance/pal-around mate. We made a great pair from day one.

It’s rather odd having a guy for a best friend. Well, not for me, but it was for most other people, probably my parents too. Most of my friends kept asking if Ken and I were an item. “No, we’re just really great friends,” was my usually reply. The funny thing was that as the year advanced, Ken decided that he wanted to be more than just friends. I distinctly remember the note declaring his affections for me. He also asked me out to a school dance in a group date setting. It was exciting but weird and unsettling at the same time. I didn’t know what I felt about Ken except that he was my best friend, that I could talk to him about anything and everything and that I spent more time with him than anyone else. Knowing that I was closed to dating age (16) and that his parents would be taking us to the dance, my parents let me go. They had met Ken enough to know that he was a decent guy.

We went. We had a great time as usual, but in my heart, I knew that I couldn’t see myself with him. Why? He was Catholic. I didn’t want to get involved with someone where religion might eventually play a huge factor in our relationship. (Please don’t ask how I knew that was something to consider. It seemed like such a mature decision at the time.) Sure I loved most everything about him, but I valued his friendship so much more. After explaining all these feelings to him, he was upset for a bit but then accepted them gracefully, and we agreed that our friendship was worth more than what might have developed over time… because he was staying Catholic and I wasn’t converting. Fortunately, he was a man of his word. We didn’t have any kind of breakdown in our relationship. If anything, it was stronger afterwards.

The school year progressed beautifully, full of more love of English with Mrs. Dobson, fun in French II, a new found love of chemistry (Loved Mr. Como and his teaching style, not to mention the experiments!), and of course Concert Choir. Yes, readers, I progressed enough to make it into the top choir. Woo hoo! It didn’t matter that I went from a first soprano to an alto. I was just so happy to be in the class. Don’t ask. I don’t understand it either. And the bonus was that there was a new teacher whom I adored, Miss Morrow. I loved being around her so much that I was soon given the nickname Shadow. Unfortunately for me, she was only there for a semester because she was getting married. The nerve of her! (At least she let us sing at her wedding.)

So we had a new teacher, Ms. Thomas; she was just as likable and kind to us. We were quite pleased with her as a teacher, even if she did start the semester off track. She was in an accident and began her classes a week late on crutches and with a black eye. Hey, at least everyone listened well to her out of pity.

Plays became a vital part of my high school experience. We had a new drama teacher, Mr. Collins. He was a large, gregarious, young teacher who brought new life to the stage. His first production was Godspell, and though I didn’t win a part, I took on a backstage role as a set maker and a props assistant in order to learn all that I could from theater experience. One huge role that I took great pride in doing was being the daisy pusher-upper. (In one scene where Jesus was talking about the flowers, he made them “grow”. My being the skinny-minnie, 80-lbs-soaking-wet person that I was, I was the one deemed small enough to crawl under the slightly raised platform to handle that task. I relished that distinction.)

I worked on the other plays as well: The Star-Spangled Girl as the Prop Manager, and finally I had my chance to be on stage as an extra in Grease. I was a pink lady and other various extras throughout the play. My favorite part was at the opening of the second act where I was one of the many people getting ready for the big dance. During the rehearsals, Mr. Collins let us do our own thing to see what would come out of it. For my part, I started stuffing my bra with tissues, making me much more endowed than God had in mind. He watched me, started busting out laughing and then told me to keep that bit, no matter what. Later in the dance scene, when some girl stole my date, I reached into my bra, pulled out a tissue and started wailing as I ran off stage. I got more laughs out of that little gesture. That made me happy.

In 1987, I turned 16. My friend Jennifer threw a huge surprise party for me and all our friends. It was wonderful, not to mention really crowded… I felt so good that night. My hair looked good and no pimples the size of Ireland. I was wearing my oversized white button down, my beige pants that were rolled tightly against my legs, my slip-on tennis shoes and my really cool Swatch Watch. As a matter of fact, it was so cool that Jennifer asked to see it to show it to someone else. Then Danny said that it was a warm party night and everyone should take off their shoes. Then Ken asked me to go out to the back yard with him to say hi to those out there. As soon as I hit the back yard, the next think I knew two guys had me up and over the side of the pool. I’d say that it bothered me, but that would be lying. I used that time to splash everyone else. My only problem came when I realized I was wearing a white shirt… Ummm, white and water do not a good combination make. Laughs all around, along with a towel and a new set of Jennifer’s clothes and the party was a lot of fun.

It was actually a great start to that fun summer and the joys of being allowed (finally) to drive.

Who What When Where Meme

I found this meme at Pam's place, Without Fear. I couldn't help myself.

• Where is your cell phone? In my purse... along with my new matching Bluetooth which I still haven't gotten used to yet.


• Your significant other? Well, assuming you mean Mr. Right, he's upstairs in the shower. Hey! That gives me an idea. I'll be back in a bit...


• Your hair? Well, some of it I'm sure is down the drain now... But the rest is still on top of my head.


• Your mother? In Florida with my Dad


• Your father? In Florida with my Mom


• Your favorite thing? My favorite thing is still upstairs getting ready for work. (My two other favorite things are at school.)


• Your dream last night? Gone. I didn't have any Chocolate Fudge ice cream to bring out the good stuff.


• Your favorite drink? My favorite drink is separated in different parts of the kitchen, waiting to be mixed for a wonderfully fruity and refreshing cocktail. That gives me another idea! But I'll wait until tonight to follow through on that one.


• Your dream/goal? To go on a long, romantic trip with Mr. Right to Italy


• The room you’re in? Kitchen, but I'd rather be in the bathroom (see above)


• Your fears? They're locked in the remotest part of my heart, wanting to come out, but I've prayed to God that he'll keep them imprisoned for the rest of my life. Those suckers are gonna be there a looooong time.


• Where do you want to be in 6 years? Happily living with Mr. Right, while the The Girl is getting ready to go to her graduation and The Boy is preparing to hit the high school scene. Good night... All that in six years?! Oh, that's too soon.


• Where were you last night? Home with the family, taking a walk with the family, then reading a book - but not with the family. We did however all pile onto the bed and read our own books. So I lied. I did read with the family.


• What you’re not? Tall or perfect or as funny as I think I am or as thin as you think I am


• Muffins? No, I'm not a muffin either. But if I were, I'd be a blueberry or strawberry one.


• One of your wish list items? I've already told you that one... More nets please!


• Where you grew up? Millington, Tennessee - but technically speaking, I'm still growing up even if it means that I won't get an inch taller in height.


• The last thing you did? Took a drink of yummy coffee (Thanks Avon for our wonderful gift!)


• What are you wearing? A tank and black exercise pants, which have been poorly named in my case...


• Your TV? OFF, and that suits me just fine.


• Your pets? At my mother-in-awe's house. We miss that cat.


• Your computer? I'd love to say iBook, but wouldn't you know it? We got one that crashed (gasp!), and we have to have it fixed. Now I'm on the PC in the kitchen.


• Your life? Well-lived and well-loved


• Your mood? I'm feeling pretty happy and content right now.


• Missing someone? Yes! Would you all come for visits sometime? I could use some company to share this good mood. You bring the wine. Mr. Right and Iwill make the pie.


• Your car? No, I'm not missing my car, although I love my sweet Accord.


• Something you’re not wearing? Well, a bra for starters... (#19)


• Favorite store? TJ Maxx, Walmart, Target, Aldi, Junior League store - basically anywhere I can get a great deal at an incredibly low price


• Your summer? Will be spent mostly at home with Mr. Right, thanks the ever-rising gas prices. The kids will be at Grandma's again and hopefully, we'll be packing up and moving into a new home before the kids return. Hey, one can always hope!


• Like someone? Well, I always pictured myself like Sandra Bullock or Katharine Hepburn, at least in their funnier roles. Knowing y'all, you're thinking I'm more like Grover or Oscar the Grouch


• Your favorite color? Blue. No, red! Aaaaahhhh... (Name that movie.)


• When is the last time you laughed? This morning. The Boy tried on all his shorts and he can be pretty entertaining when you get him one on one.


• Last time you cried? Hmmm... I'll say Sunday because sometimes those sermons hit right were I need to be hit.


• Who will repost this? Good question. You tell me!

The Birthday Fun

Sorry Mom and Chris... you'll have to wait til next Monday for the high school memories and the really great music.

Thank you all so much for the sweet birthday wishes. I did indeed have a wonderful day! It's amazing how much fun you can have when you and your family are pretty footloose and fancy free.

I posted the birthday list before we did anything that day, so there were a few minor additions to it.

First of all, the weather was supposed to be rainy and cold, but one of God's gift to me was a beautifully sunny 70 day. The kids and I took the opportunity to plant some flowers while Mr. Right was mowing the lawn. The hanging pots were missing from our pretty view.

Secondly, our neighbor, the one who works for AMC, came over to see if we wanted to go see a movie. (He gets free tickets and he offered them to us.) So we went to go see Iron Man, which I must tell you was thoroughly enjoyable. There were a couple of parts that I wish the story left out - like a one night stand, but they only implied the one night stand, not showed it. But the story was witty and enjoyable, the graphics were phenomenal and the time was well spent. Oh! And stay to the very end past the credits. (We always stay to find the caterer... don't know why, we just have always done that.) Anyway, we stayed to the end and there was an extra little bit at the end.

Dinner couldn't be any better... except maybe if Addie and Ben could have made it. The food was delish and the company was even better. I think we all had a great time together.














Everyone came back to the house for desserts, wine and fun. The funny part about the evening was that a couple stopped by to pick up a sheet for the house and began looking in the back yard. The Girl came running in to say that a weird man was checking out the house, so Mr. Right went out to check him out. Next thing I know, the man is inside looking around the house. Ummm, did I mention the fact that it was my birthday and I didn't waste anytime cleaning a thing? So there were unmade beds, dirty laundry and a kitchen that had the telltale signs of baking. I ran up to at least try to compile the dirty underwear into one place and to put away the ironing board. Next think I know, the man's wife is looking at the house, and I begged someone to come upstairs with me to make the beds and to clean the toothpaste out of the sink. (Thank you, Laura!) The funny thing is that if that couple buys this house (and they did seem very interested), then that will prove once again that it's God in control, not us, because we broke every house-selling rule that day. We had guests, we didn't have a clean house, our kids were climbing the trees, and we literally aired our dirty laundry. I find the entire situation truly humorous and fitting to the honor of God. Kind of like the walls of Jericho falling down with only some people walking around and blowing trumpets. We'll see if they want it, but if not, it's at least a great story...

The rest of the night we relaxed, played charades and SWAP! and enjoyed each other. (Oh, and I received some wonderful gifts. I'm geared up for chocolate, coffee, there's a new planter on the front porch, an AMC giftcard, a new Bluetooth piece for when I'm willing to talk on the cell, and three wonderful massages in my future. Oh, and my kids made me the most precious coupons to use with them later. I can't wait to use them!)

I plopped into bed, tired and happy. I couldn't have had a better birthday at all. It's good to be 37.

I've taken the day off to go on a field trip with The Boy. I'll catch y'all on the flip side tomorrow.

37

What does turning 37 mean to me?

1. Lunch the week before with my boss (steak with blue cheese crumbles)
2. Gift card to favorite Chinese restaurant
3. Lunch the day before birthday with coworkers for worlds best salad
4. Thoughtful gifts from them (I'll be smelling really great for a while.)
5. Smiling at the number of “birthday gifts” from my online friends (Yay y’all!)
6. Waking to kisses from the not so little ones
7. Morning snuggles from them (still!)
8. Coffee in bed with the man I love
9. Biscuits and gravy
10. Morning serenade
11. Homemade cards
12. Special gifts from the kids
13. Checking to see if I still look young
14. Having a day with no plans (that I know of anyway)
15. Being waited on hand and foot
16. Time alone with Mr. Right (ahem)
17. Reading next P.D. James book in series
18. Not having to make lunch
19. Spending time with my favorite people
20. Calls from the family with well wishes
21. Dinner at my favorite place (see #2)
22. With lots of friends
23. Much laughing
24. Much conversing
25. Returning home for games
26. Charades
27. Strawberry pie
28. Apple pie
29. Brownies
30. Decaf coffee
31. Wine
32. Opening gifts
33. Tucking tired-but-not-sleepy kids into bed
34. Thanking friends for their love and the pleasure of their company
35. Falling into bed happy
36. Knowing that I have an extremely blessed life
37. Thanking God for giving me another wonderful year

1986

High school: The start of where you really learn about life, who you are and who you didn’t want to be.

Being the nerdy, school-loving person that I was, I could not wait to start ninth grade. The shear joy of signing up for my choices, finding out how much time I would have to run from one class to another, discovering who would be my classmates for the next four months (or if it were a full semester class then for eight months all together.) Oh and the clubs! We could join clubs of all sorts. Really, I was a social butterfly that first year: Thespians (All the hazing during pledge week! Every time a member approached, Danny, Jennifer and I had to fall to our knees and loudly proclaim “Oh great Thespian I adore thee!”), Choir, FCA, Pep, French… and others that I can’t think of at all right now.

Bummer. I only made it in Girls Chorus. Oh well, I could sing Soprano there as well as in Chorus. And then of course I had to take the dreaded PE class that every upper classmen swore was better to get out of the way early rather than later in the high school way of things. But at least I had Mandy in that class. If I’m going to look like a dork in that ugly goldenrod t-shirt and those black shorts, we’ll at least do it together. But I did make it in all the AP classes I wanted, which was probably a miracle of sorts because most of my friends were smarter than me. (I’m not saying that I wasn’t smart; I know I was. I’m just saying that on the smart scale, I was on the lower end of the smart stick. Hey, I’m just keeping it real.)

First day there, I started making additional friends. Being outspoken and witty at the right moment can do that for you. (Or not, I have no delusions that everyone loved me.) But the transition from attending a school with 600 to a school with 1600 wasn’t too hard on me. Of course I worried about being cool and fitting in, but for the most part, I didn’t worry about being liked or making my mark. Amazing, when I think about it. Who goes into high school completely comfortable with who she is? Sure I worried about the *cough, cough* occasional zit and the complete lack of datability, but overall, I really liked who I was, where I was at and who was traveling that road with me.

Football games were fun and freeing. I often met my friends for the game. Cheering, laughing, yelling and enjoying those warm Southern nights… A Friday night really couldn’t get any better. Saturdays nights often turned into sleepovers or Youth Group activities. Oh, and it was due to sleepovers that I really discovered how weird I was. I was often awake and out of bed by 7 AM. How boring it was to be at a friend’s house when everyone slept until 10 AM. Sigh.

PE – not coed, thank goodness! Freshmen girls have a hard enough time dealing with the way they look without having any of the guys as onlookers as well. Mandy and I had a great time learning how to pretend that we could do anything athletic. Wait a second, athletics was an area where I was very insecure. I was 5’ 1” and a whopping 80 lbs, if that. I’d always been the shortest and smallest in class and therefore the last to be picked on teams (a tradition I loathe, by the way. Lucky for those elementary educators that I didn’t allow myself to be scarred for life and have traumatic emotional issues over always being unwanted…) But AHA! Mandy and I learned to kick boo-tay in Volleyball and guess who took first place in the Badminton Championship? Uh-huh! You got it! We bad! We bad! Hey, it made our entire torturous time in that class well worth it. Leave me be in my glory days.

One class that I couldn’t wait to attend was English with Mrs. Werner. Oh if only everyone had a mentor or encourager like her! She was the first teacher to bring English to life for me. She expected top notch and, if she didn’t get it, she would send your submittal back to you with instructions to do better. She encouraged reading and opinionating what you read. She delighted in reviews, creative writing and the idea that books are something to be enjoyed, not endured.

Girls Chorus was unique. There I made friends with a myriad, most of whom were named Jennifer pr some variation of the name. Some became really close buddies. We laughed, enjoyed music together and, well, mostly we felt sorry for our teacher, Mr. Svelte. Poor man. He tried so hard, but he had such a spineless way about him. This characteristic did not bode well for anyone teaching teenagers. I cannot count the number of times that year that he came to school in the same clothes because his wife kicked him out of the house and refused to let him enter, even for necessities. He was a nice man, but slightly off-kilter due to a number of factors. Our chatting, giggling selves couldn’t have helped at all.

I discovered the joy of working a play. Building a set, painting, rehearsals, long hours memorizing lines... and the camaraderie that is naturally built when working several hours a day together, only getting longer and longer as the performances drew near. These were the moments that I loved. With these surroundings came a kind of vitality on which I could almost feed. I just knew that I had found another niche, one that could bring me joy from a different perspective. Although I didn’t make it into any of the plays that year, I vowed that I would the next. That was a promise I intended to keep…

You Can Quote Me On That

Chilihead posted some quotes that were her favorites. I thought I’d totally piggyback on her and do the same. Because I am a copycat. And that’s what friends do. They steal good stuff from those they love. You can quote me on that.


"I intend to live forever. So far, so good." - Steven Wright

"I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific." - Lily Tomlin

“The 12-step chocoholics program: NEVER BE MORE THAN 12 STEPS AWAY FROM CHOCOLATE!” – Terry Moore

“A friend is someone with whom you dare to be yourself.” – Frank Crane

“Just do it.” – Nike

"Live today as if it were your last." - Anonymous

“People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.” – Elizabeth Kubler Ross

"Live and learn. Die and forget it all" - Shalee's Mom

“Be still and know that I am God.” – God

"A face without freckles is like a night without stars." - Anonymous

“God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.” – Elizabeth Barrett Browning

“Life isn't fair. It's just fairer than death, that's all.” – William Goldman

“Whether you think you can or whether you think you can't, you're right.” – Henry Ford

“I hope life isn't a big joke, because I don't get it.” – Jack Handey

“If you live to be a hundred, I want to live to be a hundred minus one day, so I never have to live without you.” – A. A. Milne

“An eye for eye only ends up making the whole world blind.” – M.K. Gandhi

“Love doesn't make the world go round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile.” – Franklin P. Jones

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on.” – Thomas Jefferson

“I love you, Mommy, more than anyone else in the world... but not more than God.” – The Boy

“Mom, this is my Favorite Meal ever!” – The Girl (said at almost every meal)

"You gonna eat that?" - Mr. Right

I have to stop now. I could go on forever… I didn’t even add any movie quotes, and I have a number of them! What about you? What quotes mean something to you or just make you smile?

WFMW - Second Glances

Seeing how I recently wrote about my eyesight, I thought this was very appropriate to post today.

I received an email from a friend yesterday.

Shalee,

I am getting a kick out of your memory blogs! I'm not sure if you watched MTV when your parents weren't looking, but Bowling for Soup has a song called 1985 and you should totally watch the video...especially if you watched music videos in the 80's! I really enjoy checking out the music you've selected for the years. Many of the songs were featured on Miami Vice (1985 & 86) as I have found a site that has old episodes online! Hope you and Mr. Right are doing great!

-- Chris

After reading it, I replied with this:

Well, ummm, I’m glad that it’s making you sick?! You might want to have a bowl around for the next few Mondays…

I’ll have to check out the Bowling for Soup song. I’ve heard it, but I’ve not seen the video. (Yeah, I was an 80’s video watcher – back when they were great videos and not soft porn. I have to tell you, I never watched Miami Vice. That was such a guys show and it never, ever interested me. But at least it had great music!

We’re great here. Hope all is well with you too!

Shalee

Sometime later I happen to glance at his original email and then sent out the following to him:

Hey Chris… I have to tell you that I thought the first line read I’m getting SICK of your memory blogs… Perhaps I need glasses after all! So ignore the first paragraph of the last email I sent you!

To which he responded:

I don't care who you are, THAT'S FUNNY! I would never let you know if I was sick of your blogs! That's just too rude! It's just fun looking back and you hear a song and instantly you remember where you were in life when that song came out. I'm glad you got to watch some MTV when you were young. You for sure need to see the Bowling For Soup Video now as it totally spoofs Robert Palmer, Michael Jackson, Run DMC, George Michael, etc. Hope you have a great week!

So my advice is to either read your mail carefully or don't tell the world the day before that you're thankful for the fabulous eyesight that you have. It could come back to bite you later.

Want some really good tips? Head to Shannon's for some words of wisdom. For some words of wisdom.

1985

Eighth Grade

What can be said about this year?

It was a year that brought me face to face with so many things. Some good, some that no child should have to know.

I was in my first wedding that year. My mom’s best friend’s daughter was marrying and she asked for me to be her flower girl. Yeah, at 13 years old. Well, I felt lovely (though not beautiful) in that long pink gown. I can remember the pictures of my standing next to Sean, the ring bearer. He too was 13 years old and a member of our youth group. I’m sure that he was only in the wedding because his mother made him be in it. That made for great pictures, let me tell you…

In school, we began the process of having multiple classes with other students. Though the classes were assigned, I remember the thrill of walking down the halls to attend with different friends. Danny remained in my music and English class. It was in this English class where I learned, really learned, the value of a good debate. (Oh how I wish I could remember the teacher’s name! He was a huge man who looked exactly like a gorilla and he had the condescending way of looking at his students over his glasses.) It was in his class that I sparred verbally for my earned A in the class. He was tough, intelligent, but not unbendable. I do believe I received my A, not only because of my work, but because I was willing to challenge him on a intellectual level rather than whining.

Fortunately Mandy and I still had three classes together, one of which was Social Studies with Mr. Cumming. That man was a hoot! He definitely brought out the ornery in me. Mandy and I were often trying to pull some sort of mischievous deed on him.

Unfortunately, it was also in Mr. Cumming’s class that I received my first migraine. As I was sitting in class, my sight slowly started to fade into white spots. Eventually, I became scared enough that I poked Mandy in the back and pleaded with her to ask Mr. Cumming if she could take me to the office to call my mom. I must have looked the part of scared well; she didn’t even question me. She went straight up to make the request. To which he told her to sit down and for me to quit starting trouble. I think I was able to sit five more minutes before I had Mandy take me up to Mr. Cumming. I recall with clarity the calmness that I had while describing what I could and couldn’t see. And then I broke out into tears. He then let Mandy take me to the office. I think he figured out I wasn’t fooling at that time.

Next up to convince: my mother. I don’t mean to say that I cried wolf a lot. I didn’t. But I’m sure it will come as a huge surprise to you that I was a drama queen. (I can hear the gasp from here!) When I got Mandy to call her, I started bawling about not being able to see and my head hurting and could she please come and get me. She came and got me and we went straight to the naval hospital. There I was told that I had to stay up all night with nothing in but water and then come in the following morning for an EKG or an EEG or something with a G. That was another fun night let me tell you. My parents took shifts to make sure that I stayed away. Can I just share with you how much there wasn’t on tv at zero dark thirty in the morning?

Cut to the quick: The guy put all this plaster around my head, stuck some wires to my noggin and turned on a machine. I still don’t know what it was all about, really. All I know is that I remember wanting to fall asleep each time I closed my eyes, but the guy didn’t say that I could or couldn’t so I jerking my eyes open. Guy pulls wires from my head, eventually someone comes to tell my mom that I have optical migraines, but no worries! Mine are triggered by a combination of types of food (lots of junk) and lack of sleep. Ta da! And then he sent us on our merry way to get that plaster our of my very, very long hair.

What’s the first thing we do? We eat at El Toro Taco, the best hole-in-the-wall place that served Toro Burgers, which is basically taco meat in a hot dog bun, served with the secret sauce and cheese. Yum! It was heavenly after that fasting. However, getting all the plaster out of my hair wasn’t. It took 3 washings to remove it. My poor mom, I'm sure she was transported back to the time when I was three and full of sand...

Fast forward to Pep Rallies, school games and “dances” (You know – the times when music was played, but no one would get out there to dance because no one would ask the other to dance. Instead there was lots of talking above the music and head-bobbing all around.) Cheerleaders and players. Yelling for your team and laughing with your friends. Comforting someone who ran to the bathroom in tears because her boyfriend of two weeks broke up with her and now she’s destined to thwart love forever! (Not me by the way. My time came when I was much more mature – like in 10th grade.) These were the moments that made up 8th grade.

Sleepovers and playtimes. Makeup and daydreams. Wanting to grow up, yet still enjoying being a kid. Getting to go to a movie without a parent. Eating cold pizza and guzzling a good portion of the 3-litre of Coke. These were exciting times in the life of a 13 year old. Things were changing, and we were just along for the ride.

But not all change was good. Jenny A., a sweet, likable girl who seemed to have it all – a nice jock-boyfriend, a position on the cheerleading team, the latest in clothes, she took her life one day – shot herself without fully thinking of the ramifications of what it would mean to those left behind. Though I was not bosom buddies with her, I remember crying and being stunned, over the loss, over the sadness, over her hopelessness. I still don’t to this day know why she did it. I do remember thinking that if she had just held on a little longer, things might have been different for her…

Why did life have to be so confusing and unstable? We were just kids!

But thank you God for short-term memories. Life resumed at its normal pace, and the thrill of living returned soon enough. School and its work did not stop. Church activities still blossomed, creating more and more endearing relationships with those in the same group. Life as a middle schooler continued with a determined hope that things would never be bad enough that it couldn’t be handled in the here and now. I’d rather live and cry than to die and to miss out on the things to come – whatever those things happened to be.

Summer came and with it came thoughts of my biggest challenge yet – high school. I wouldn’t be a fish in the pond any more. I would be a little minnow in a sea of faces. 1 in 1,600 because we had a large high school… but I was ready for it. I had energy and hope to spare and the friends to help with all the fun to come.

Prêt-à-Porter, Fiesta Style!

Welcome to my closet! Come in, come in. There’s not much room, but maybe if we rotate a bit, I can get you all in here.

Chocolate strawberries anyone? How about some mozzarella sticks? Oh and just take your pick of wine or Diet Coke (Blech, if I do say so myself). If we run out, I’ll just send Mr. Right out for more. He’s really good like that.

Comfy? Good. Now let me share a bit about myself with you so that you can understand my closet a bit more.

I cannot express to you enough my loathing of shopping for clothes. Well, loathe is too strenuous of a word, but the idea surrounding “loathe” fits.

Dislike
Have an aversion to
Find it a huge waste of time

Yeah all those fit. There have been 4 times that I’ve actually enjoyed shopping for apparel.

1. The first time was with my mom back in 1987. One day, she walked up to me and said, “Let’s head to the mall together and hit the sales.” I don’t ever recall her asking to do this before – just us girls, one on one. (Sure we shopped before, but this was a big deal, like one woman to another.) I went and had a great time with my mom. I think I liked it mostly because I was actually with her, talking, laughing and getting her unstuck from dress that thought it was Venom. Oh, and we had Milano’s Pizza, the best pizza bar none. That was memorable too.




2. Next was the time when I moved to Nebraska to be with Mr. Right. He said that my clothes, my good Southern clothes- thankyouverymuch, wouldn’t be good enough for a single winter day, even if I wore them all at the same time. I told him that I had sweaters and he laughed. In my face. It was a good thing that I loved him! Alas, he was so right. I froze my patoot off until I had a real coat and clothes to go under them. Plus, I felt like Pretty Woman, without all the sex and Polo. (Virgin, remember? And Nebraska! No Polo player worth his weight in salt would go to Nebraska for the game. Sheesh…)




3. Then there was shopping for my wedding dress. I did it with Mr. Right and my mom. Yes, Mr. Right helped to pick out my wedding dress. Hey, I figured that if I’m going to blow that much money on a dress, I might as well pick one that he liked too. It turned out to be the fourth dress I tried. AND it was on sale. Bonus! (I still tried on other dresses because hello! Wedding dresses! You don’t get to try those on every day…)




4. Lastly, there was the day I took The Girl out of school to shop at the Junior League store. That was a blast! We both left with some “new” things to add to our closet. More importantly, we left with a memory that still makes us both smile.
   

Four times out of 36 years of living is quite pitiful. I recognize this fact. But I am the way I am. I don’t like all the fuss and bother of trying on new clothes, and really when I think about the money it can cost, it just sets my heart racing. ($40 for jeans! $100 for a new coat! $150 for shoes! Ack!)

If it were up to me, I’d run around naked as a jaybird. But then again, I’d be in a loony bin. Not nearly as much fun as being crazy on a blog. So I do have some clothes to show you after all. You’re welcome.

Mind you, I’m a working woman. I mean that I work outside of the home as well as taking care of the home. I have to wear “appropriate attire” in the office. So here goes…

In this array of clothes, you’ll find Ann Taylor and Banana Republic Suits, Gap, Express, Wet Seal, Liz Claiborne, Talbot’s, 5th Avenue… and others that I can’t even remember. Can I just share with you how much I really like well-made clothes? Well, I do. I just don't like going to get them...

Sometimes I wear these when the boss is gone. Tee hee!

By the time I’m home, I just want to chuck these clothes and head straight for the jammie pants. So I do.




But when I’m ready for a play date with Mr. Right or time out with a friend, you can find me in some comfy clothes like these:













Now, knowing that I don’t want to go and shop and that I cringe at the thought of spending a ton on clothes, you might ask how I own some things that take time to find.

Here is where Big Mama might want to avert her eyes. I’m pretty sure she won’t answer the phone any more when I call if she knows this about me.

She gone? Good. I’ll let you in on a little secret. Come closer because I can’t let everyone know…

I got all of the above on ebay (and more that I didn't show you - there were 74 pieces all together) for less than $150… including postage. That works out to $2 per piece! Fortunately for me, the sellers did all the hard work of putting it together. Now I don’t have to wonder if A goes with Q or if I have anything that will go with that shirt. It’s all done for me. Remarkably, every single thing fits perfectly - even the jeans - and is in style. Woo hoo! If you realize anything about me now, it’s that I don’t have much of a fashion sense which is alright with me because that just leaves me more time and energy for the fun stuff like reading and eating. You can send Big Mama back in now.

And that concludes the tour of Shalee’s closet. Hope you’ll be able to come back later when I tell you about shopping at another place that will probably have Big Mama breathing hard with disbelief. I know that she’s already trying to figure out how to convince me that the world cannot run without a love for a great pair of flip flops.

Enough of this clothes stuff! Let’s head down to the kitchen and I’ll show the insides of the fridge that has some killer apple pie, brownies and cheesecake. Oh and as always, there’s some kickin’ coffee to go with it. Then we'll talk about how I got my shoes...

1984

Take a stroll with me, would you? Here, I'll even give you some walking music.

Ahhh yes, 7th grade: the time when everything was different - clothes, school, the body itself. It was here that I first learned to change classes every hour. It was here that I discovered how truly inept I was at Social Studies/History (Sorry Mr. Webber... I really did try! I just couldn't make those dates stick in my head.) It was here that everything held more meaning than it should have. Any action was fraught with emotions from all sorts of causes - a broken pencil, a ton of homework, parents not understanding me, the fact that Jeff W. wouldn't acknowledge that I was alive.

Oh yeah. These times? They were, like, you know, kickin'. (Not to mention full of many tears, moments of frustrations and questions about whether I was good enough. Good enough for what, you ask? Well, for anything.)

And yet...

7th grade was also when I met my best friend Mandy, the first girl that I felt actually understood me and truly liked me anyway. Shy, quiet Mandy teamed up with loudmouth, outgoing me... We were like the Laurel and Hardy of the middle school. She was blonde, pretty and extremely talented with the art pencils. I was brunette, acne-covered and not good at much except making others laugh. However, we were both pretty smart. We had that in common and we were in the same classes all day long. (It was in 7th grade where we began changing classes, but we did it as a whole class. I think the administrators thought that it would help us to slowly work in changes.) Boy did we make a great team in each class! She was my chum, the sister I never had, my secret keeper, my bosom friend.

This was also the year that I became friends with Danny. We had earlier due to the fact that his sister and my brother were in choir together in high school. Both of our parents helped with all choir activities and trips. So we had met, but had never taken the time to befriend each other. Here is where it happened: in the cafeteria and in our own music class - one class where they did join some of the students. There we had our common ground that lead to other eventual common grounds.

It was in this time that I found secure footing at church. As a new Christian, I wanted to be useful. So I became a JOY Bus teacher, singing and telling stories every Sunday morning as we picked up kids for church. I, along with all my church friends (who also became school friends since the middle school had many of the elementary schools merge into one) also became a more involved with the youth group. Attending their teen times, getting to be one of the "elite" (you know - how you thought those older than you getting to do things you couldn't - they were just so cool!), joining in the youth activities, youth rallies and mini-mission trips where we would help others. But the big thing we were able to do was to go to Chickasaw... the memorable, fun-filled week of summer camp that everyone looked forward to attending. Never mind that it was the Middle School version of the High School week. All that mattered is that we arrived.

Although I look back at seventh grade and see the typical questions of abilities or being acceptable to others (and always - I saw myself as not pretty... I think that comes with the territory of being a tween), there was still that spark of something inside of me that knew I was valuable, that I was okay. I was, for the most part, able to be myself without too much worry about what others thought of me. I actually liked me! (I only wished that God had saw fit to at least give me a chest. That might have helped with the self-confidence in 7th grade...)

Surprisingly, in this tumultuously rocking boat on a sea of change, where several of my friends fell, I found secure footing in who I was and what was slowly molding and defining me. I was pretty comfortable with the way was God making me, who he brought around me to shape my mind and emotions and into what he was making me: a likable, funny girl with a heart ready to take on what the world would give.

That, my friends, was worth more than anything I could think of value at the time, even more than Jeff W. noticing me.

(Strangely enough, The Girl is fast approaching these same years. I have hope, as I watch her now, that she will in fact, turn out to be my daughter. This is when I truly hope she takes after me.)

Role Reversals

I don't know why, but I'm just so tired. Around 3 PM, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Unfortunately, I was at my desk at work, so no nap for the weary. I don't feel sick. I don't think I'm coming down with anything. I'm just tired, which is odd considering that I've had great, uninterrupted sleep for the last several days.

I think it's this crazy weather. It's a beautiful 74° one day; then a cold 50° the next. My body keeps thinking that winter may be back upon us soon and it's trying to thicken up my blood. Who knows. I just know that I'm cold and tired today.

Praise be to God that I made dinner yesterday morning. Ham and bean soup in the crockpot. Yum! It was delicious, not to mention perfect for the cooler day. Plus, it was a great way to use some of our leftover Easter ham. All but The Boy had seconds. That's a good sign in our house. (And as usual, The Girl stated for the record, "Mom, this is now my favorite soup!" If you haven't noticed, everything is her favorite. I love cooking for her. The Boy? Well, let's just say that he has lots of meals that he wouldn't always request to have again. But he's not suffering at all. He's still growing like Jack's beanstalk!)

Here's what the kids did with Mr. Right last night. They invited a new type of basketball. I have a feeling that if they play it often, Mr. Right will be back in shape in no time.


























































































(I love this picture! This totally captures the spirit of The Boy.)


They kids came inside and warmed their feet in a bath. Afterwards, we had our Bible reading time. Normally we read two chapters and move on to something else, but this time, they both uttered words that made my heart melt. "Just one more, Mom!" they pleaded in unison. What a delight to hear! So we read one more chapter as requested.

After the reading, Mr. Right came up with the most brilliant idea. He turned to the kids and said, "I think that you guys should tuck us into bed tonight!" The kids, struck speechless momentarily, quickly agreed to this change in plan. Mr. Right and I acted like their kids, with all the requests for water and the little things done to keep us up just a few minutes more. The kids laughed and then became quite strict with us. (It was amazing to hear how they think that we are on a nightly basis. I need to lighten up some!)

Finally the songs were sang, the prayer was said and we were kissed good night. They went off to their rooms to go to bed as well. Mr. Right and I stayed up to make sure that The Girl quit reading at a decent time. The Boy came into our room and ever so sweetly asked if he could turn off my side table lamp. I asked if it was bothering him and he said yes. Y'all, my lamp couldn't have bugged him at all seeing that he couldn't even see it from his room! But I let him turn it off and he went on his merry way back to bed. We all promptly fell asleep.

It was 8:30 PM for goodness' sake! I'm telling you, we were all tired!

So here I am, awake and full of life, having the pure joy of knowing that I had about 10 hours of uninterrupted sleep again. Today is going to be a great day. I can just feel it!

(Someone just sent flowers to the office for our move. I love that they get to sit on MY desk! Mmmm, smell that scent of spring!)

I Cannot Tell A Lie

Well, that’s a lie. I totally can tell a lie with the best of them. If it were a sport, I could probably medal in it somehow.

What I should have said was I shouldn’t tell a lie. But there again, I do. Want a few examples? Of course you do. We all want to know that we’re not alone in the Liars Club, for which I have a lifetime membership with all the dues I’ve paid.

I lied when I said to my son, “I don’t know where that Happy Meal toy is.” I knew it was in the bottom of the trashcan.

I lied when I said to my kids, “Ummm, don’t come in here. Your dad and I are having a talk.” We might have been using our mouths, but it was for kissing and stuff… You know, married stuff. Talking wasn’t the gist of our meeting.

I told a bold-face lie when I told my kids, “Try it. You’ll like it.” Dude. It had lima beans. I won’t even like it.

I lied and didn’t even flinch when I said that the Thin Mints that I found in the freezer were too old to eat. They tasted mighty fine to me.

I told a whopper when I gave blood last night. I knew I was short a few pounds in weight to give blood so I rounded up. Hey, it was for a good cause.

I lied when I said, “We don’t have the money for that. Put it back.” We totally had the money. I just didn’t want to spend it on that product.

I lied when I told you that I was giving up Lost. I’m not giving it up. I’m just watching it when no little ears are around to ask, “Who’s Dammit?”

I lied to the kids when I told them that they had to go to bed early because they had been up late a few nights in a row. Seriously, I’m the one who needed to go to bed; they just had to do it first so that I could crash.

Don’t feel badly. I totally lie to myself too.

Gosh, I’m funny!

One bite won’t hurt.

I’ll fit into that dress again soon.

Today’s the day that I start walking again.

I’m not going to make up/eat a batch of cookie dough.

I’m not bummed at all about not winning a prize in the giveaway.

I’m going to make much better choices and not fall into that temptation again.

I don’t feel badly at all when my kids glare at me like I’m the meanest mom on earth.

So, in the spirit of making me feel a wee bit more normal, would you fess up? What have you lied about? Hey, you could totally lie about it, and I’d never know. See how easy it is?

(And I really don’t want to hear that you’re the perfect mom who doesn’t lie about a thing. That, my friends, would not make me feel better AT ALL. I’m being completely honest on that one.)

*This post is not an advocate for lying. You really shouldn’t. It’s just me holding up a mirror to myself and realizing that it’s a lot cloudier than it should be. No “you should know better” mail please. I’m just telling it like it is with me.

Four (Or So) Things

Not long ago, Sister Honey Bunch tagged me for the memes of 4.  I kept thinking that it sounded really familiar, so when I went back to my archives, I found this post.  Rather than reinvent the wheel, I'm going to just repost it* here.  It was ever so interesting to go back and read not only the post, but the comments as well.  Fun stuff... well to me anyway.

* with a few changes/additions/updates

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Originally published March 10, 2006

I've been tagged. So here goes… if you feel comfortable doing so, post a comment giving answers about you because we all enjoy learning something about our buds!

Four jobs you've had in your life

1. Development Officer at a college
2. Barnes and Noble – made it to manager, then quit because they threw me in with no training and expected me to work like a dog for nothing and still make plan... best thing I ever did was quit - although I still miss being around and reading all those books!
3. Executive Assistant (if I don't get fired for yesterday's posting...)
4. Mom – longest held job to date (lousy pay, but the benefits are to die for!)

Four movies that you would watch over and over

1. Lord of the Rings trilogy
2. Return to Me
3. A & E’s Pride and Prejudice (Six magnificent hours of a beautiful Jane Austen book... I usually watch it in 2 hour intervals over 3 days. I would go all six if everyone would leave me alone, but it's usually "Momma, Momma Momma" this or "Honey" that.)
4. Philadelphia Story, When Harry Met Sally, While You Were Sleeping, Always, Better Off Dead, Sense and Sensibilities, The Matrix and anything by M Night (Okay, that is more than 4, but hey, it’s my blog – I can bend the rules if I want to!)

Four places you've lived

1. Memphis, TN
2. Bremerton, WA
3. York, NE
4. Overland Park, KS
   

Four TV shows that you love to watch (or used to watch)

1. Moonlighting
2. Law & Order (oldies)
3. Cosby Show
4. Greatest American Hero
5. You Can’t Do That On Television – Nickelodeon (I loved it when they got slimed for saying “I don’t know”)
6. Max Headroom
7. The Tomorrow People – cool when I was a kid!
8. Football in the fall, winter!

(Can you tell that I don’t watch much of anything in the present?)

Four places you've been on vacation

1. Jamaica (honeymoon ~ Woo hoo!)
2. Beaver Creek, CO
3. Memphis, TN
4. Florida
5. Hawaii
6. Smokey Mountains

Four websites you visit daily

1. My blog… Hey, I still like seeing my name in lights (I'm sooo vain!! Besides, many of my links are there.)
2. www.google.com
3. www.woot.com (Too funny to see what will be for sell next! They sell one thing all day. When it is sold out, it is sold out. They post something else at 12 AM CST the next night... unless of course there is a woot off! Then it's catch as catch can mayhem... I just want one of there bag o' crap... you'll have to visit to see why.)
4. Antique Mommy , f-stop steve (great photoblog), Rocks in my Dryer… Just go down the list on the side of my blog. I need to update it because there are others that I visit that are saved in my favorites. 

(Yes to all the links above - well, except f-stop... f-stop WHERE ARE YOU?, but I would add Bloglines to my list too.  There are too bloggers to list that I visit daily, even if I can't comment on Blogger blogs - STUPID WORK FILTER!)

Four of your favorite foods

1. Chinese
2. Italian
3. My homemade mac ‘n cheese
4. (Most) Anything that someone else is buying!

Four places you would rather be right now

1. home reading a book
2. beach
3. Italy – for a first time visit
4. having a cuppa with Antique Mommy – (She probably thinks I’m deranged, but I could see just having such a great time in her company.) (I was totally right.  She is fabulous company that I hope to enjoy many times in the years to come.)

Five people I’m tagging

1. Joyful Days
2. Jean
3. Maggie
4. Ornery's Wife
5. Laura

Do You Get My Meaning?

When I saw this one at Barb's, I knew I had to give it a try because honestly, I don't know what Shalee means either. I'm a mystery to be solved, an enigma to me pondered, a person who probably most people meet and thank their lucky stars that they're not me. Well, we all serve some purpose in life. That's one of mine.

What Shalee Means

You are the total package - suave, sexy, smart, and strong. You have the whole world under your spell, and you can influence almost everyone you know. You don't always resist your urges to crush the weak. Just remember, they don't have as much going for them as you do. You are truly an original person. You have amazing ideas, and the power to carry them out. Success comes rather easily for you... especially in business and academia. Some people find you to be selfish and a bit overbearing. You're a strong person. You are usually the best at everything ... you strive for perfection. You are confident, authoritative, and aggressive. You have the classic "Type A" personality. You are relaxed, chill, and very likely to go with the flow. You are light hearted and accepting. You don't get worked up easily. Well adjusted and incredibly happy, many people wonder what your secret to life is. You are friendly, charming, and warm. You get along with almost everyone. You work hard not to rock the boat. Your easy going attitude brings people together. At times, you can be a little flaky and irresponsible. But for the important things, you pull it together.

What's Your Name's Hidden Meaning?

I'll go with some of it, especially the part about my being friendly, charming and warm.  Okay the flaky and smart and suave fits pretty well too.  :)

But the bit about not resisting my urges to crush the weak? Classic Type A personality? Sexy?

Anh... it had me going for a while.  I'm going back to my original thought that Shalee is really Irish for idiot.

Missing The Give In Thanksgiving

I've gone back and forth with myself about posting this one. In the end, I realize that honesty really is the best policy. I'd rather show the real me than pretend that certain parts of me don't exist. So here goes...

Well, let’s see… I’ve been pretty honest about me and my quirky adventures. It seems only fitting that I reveal some of the sad, ugly sides to me too. You might as well get the whole picture.

The weekend prior to Thanksgiving, I prayed that I would quit being so selfish and allow God to use my talents for his purpose. I didn’t even put a limit on it. I just said, “Here you go, God. Have at it and make me understand that it’s all a way of praising you.”

Don’t pray for things unless you really mean it.

Let me state from the beginning: giving is not one of my gifts. I’m terribly selfish and self-centered. I always have been; it's been my lot in life. And before you tell me that I need to get over it, let me just say that this particular item is no stranger to my prayer list. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t seem to let God kick this one out for good. It’s my constant battle, my thorn in my side that makes me weep with shame and shake my head with disgust. But – I’m a work in progress; I know that with God nothing is impossible, no matter how long I battle with him about it.

Now imagine that this selfish being is married to a man with a passion for giving. He loves help others in whatever capacity that is needed – money, time, skills. He sees it as a calling and as a way to praise God. He looks for opportunities to give and give and give.

Can you imagine the rifts we can have in our house? And what’s worse is that I know that he is right 9.6 times out of 10 in all these circumstances. (I kept the .4 purely out of self-dignity. Feel free to round it up.)

The week before Thanksgiving I watched Mr. Right have a broken conversation with one of the deaf individuals in our church. Not just any individual, either – this woman is an 82 year old, single woman who lives in an apartment building where there are no other deaf people. She cannot drive, and she must use a walker to move from one place to another. She is poor and lonely and sweet as honey, and she needs company to know what it is to be accepted. I actually like her a lot.

After his conversation with her, Mr. Right told me that he wanted to invite her to our Thanksgiving. I knew it was coming. I could tell when I watched his face as he tried to communicate via finger spelling. I sighed. My first instinct was to say no. I made the statement that I knew it was a good thing to do, but trying to prepare an entire Thanksgiving meal with stops at signing was not going to make my holiday any kind of vacation for me. Since I would be the only one with the ability to sign, the burden of hosting and entertaining would fall onto me. Plus my in-awes were going to be there. He said that he heard everything said, but he felt that it should still be done. I did agree to it because if I were in her situation, I would want someone to take care of me as well.

Things really were okay with me until Mr. Right told me Wednesday night that she would at our place… for breakfast. That one sent me over the edge. Not only did he not ask if that timing would be okay, it stepped up my need to host from 11 AM to 8 AM. 8 AM… no one should have to be on duty that early unless it’s a mutual agreement, which this wasn’t. Can you imagine what kind of evening Mr. Right and I had after that? I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say that the love was not flowing that night.

The next morning did go well, despite my bad attitude on the inside. Mr. Right retrieved our friend and she enjoyed some fellowship with the family. My mother-in-awe helped immensely by having a writing conversation with her. Mr. Right stayed in the living room with her to talk with her. I just visited in spurts, signing when needed but otherwise staying in the kitchen. Really, they didn’t have much of a need for me, which was just as well since all I could think of was “the inconvenience” of the entire situation.

Was it really? No. That was just me being selfish with my time and refusing to use my hands for any good and encouraging purpose. Everyone was having a pleasant time watching the parade, eating and enjoying each other.

Later that day after our friend returned home, my mother-in-awe kept saying that she was so proud of us for opening our home like that – to be so willing to help someone out like that. Me? I kept saying that I deserved no thanks at all because my heart was so hard to the events of the morning and that it really couldn’t be considered any sort of good service on my part. What's worse is that I did all this in the presence of my kids. You know they were picking up on quite a bit of things that were never said.

So that was the start to my Thanksgiving Day… which was a day with nary a thanks or a giving at all when seen from my heart. I’ve already talked with God about it, and I think I’m a bit more ready for the next time he actually takes me up on my offer to be of service to him. (I say that with hopes that I actually mean it. Surely I can’t keep making the same mistakes over and over again. I have to learn from them some time, right?)

I’m really holding fast to these verses:

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Cor 12:9-10

His power is becoming more perfect all the time, especially where I’m concerned.

Case In Point

*Edited at the end*

Last night my friend Debbie called to apologize because she scheduled herself to eat dinner with us, but somewhere along the way she forgot about it.

I told her not to worry about it, that these things happen. I took no offense from it. (And really, the stellar meal I made didn't turn out so stellar. The chicken was dry as well as the honey-ginger carrots, so in one way, it was a relief that she wasn't partaking of that meal.) I told her it all worked out for the best, but that if she wanted to avoid me, she would have to come up with a different excuse next time.

We laughed and chatted for about 10 minutes, and I kid you not, these words came out of my mouth before I realized it: "Well, I've had enough."

Classy, huh? I'm such a gem of a friend.

Silence stretched out for a second as I tried to grab those words out of the air and shove them back into my mouth. I apologized to Debbie, laughing at my moment of stupidity. I indicated all the better things I could have said - like "I need to go now" or "Oh look the cat's on fire. I'll talk to you later."

Debbie, ever the good and understanding friend, said with a smile in her voice, "That's okay, Shalee. I know how you are about being on the phone. I feel good that I got to talk to you as long as I did." Then we made a future date to get together again.

Oh, I'm learning the ropes of humility everyday.

I'm sure they have doctors for this kind of mental illnesses. I might even go see one, but I'm sure it would all have to start with a phone call so we know what the chances of my going will be...

Anyone up for a MIRL?

*I've been totally worried the last couple of days now that I've peeled myself open the last couple of days. These post aren't to say that I don't want to talk to anyone ever. It just means that when we're on the phone and I start acting weird, you know it's probably time for me to go.  And if we are MIRLing, don't let my total dorkiness put you off.  Remember, I still want to be a part of the Girls Only club.  I'm not really a total loss.  A mess maybe, but not a loss.  Thank you very much.  The following has been a paid public announcement by Shalee's Diner.  You may now continue your eye rolling.

So I’m A Little Left of Center

I’ve always been a little off kilter. (Okay, I fully admit that it WAY more than a little. Shut your traps, you in the peanut gallery!) I’ve always done most things abnormally. To me now, abnormal is normal.

I’d rather watch football than shop for anything.

I fancy playing games over finding shoes.

Cooking is a creative outlet and a show of love for me. I don’t understand how others want to eat out all the time. (Recently, one of my friends stated that she hasn’t found the will to walk in the kitchen for two months so she hasn’t made a meal for that long. This does not compute in my puny brain.)

I love my kids, but I don’t want to be with them all the time. I like that my kids go to a public school and I have break.

I very much dislike being bound to a computer, yet I sit in front of one all day.

I don’t want a cell phone, but I like the security of having it… as long as I don’t have to talk on it for long. By the way, that includes conversing with the love of my life. Mr. Right understands that after a few minutes, I’m ready to ditch him too. (Nothing personal, honey!)

The Girl wants to do girly things and I break out in hives. Make a necklace, try new hairstyles, learn to sew with a needle, make a throw – I need a paper bag just thinking of these things!

I love to be center stage, yet I develop stage fright amongst friends.

I don’t watch much tv (unless I’m watching football), and I feel completely out of it when conversations revolve around them. I’ve never seen “The Office”. There I said it. You all may want to stand back. I’m sure lightning will be striking me soon.

Most of my girl friends either have kids years younger than mine or none at all. I usually lose focus during conversations surrounding babies and toddlers or staying at home. (Think Charlie Brown when the adults talk. Wah wah wah wah… I understand it, but it doesn’t always come in clearly. I love knowing what is going on with them, but I don’t always appreciate what life is like on their daily schedule.)

I get along with males better than females, but always want to be accepted into the Girl’s Only group.

I’m very confident and appreciative of who I am – until I get into an all girl group. Then I find that although I like myself, I’m just not like the other girls. Then I feel like the ultimate dork.

Take last Saturday for example. We had some wonderfully dear friends over for an “adults only” dinner and games. All kids were left with sitters, well except ours, but I made ours eat dinner in the kitchen alone (gasp!) and then sent them upstairs to watch a movie they hadn’t seen. In other words, they were completely preoccupied and out of our hair… and quite satisfied with it, if I might add.

Did I mention that these are dear friends, that I actually love being with all of them? Yet as we girls were standing in the kitchen talking about anything and everything, it wasn’t until the guys came in to talk and to snag some appetizers that I felt my shoulders relax a bit. Why? Why am I still uncomfortable around those sweet, accepting, down-to-earth ladies who understand that we have such difference but still like me despite them?

We had dinner and great conversations that ran the gauntlet from children to church to football to work, with a myriad of things between and a lot of laughter. Again, I felt on more solid ground when we were in the “masculine” subjects rather than “feminine” ones. I felt that I had more to contribute at those times. (But why? I’m a girl. I’m a mom. I understand these things. I just don’t always know how to get them from my mind to my mouth.)

After playing two fantastically brilliant games of Apples to Apples (in which I won both games without cheating one bit, thank you very much Jenny! How can I cheat when the judges change every turn?! They’ve already threatened to play Yatzee next time – a game I never win. Fine, I’ll play it and I’ll have a great attitude, dadgumit. Just you wait and see…), we did the standard “boys go watch the game and the girls sit and talk” thing. I stayed to talk with the ladies; I even contributed marginally to the varying dialogues, but all the while my heart was begging to go be with the guys, to see the game. I was thinking these things as I was enjoying the conversations with my friends. If that’s not abnormal, then I don’t know what is.

Later we wound up with the guys, watching KU triumph over OSU. That pull could only be ignored for so long. It was there in that setting that I was able to talk the most with the other girls – about kids, about work, about life – all the things that had been discussed in the other room. It was as if the comfort of being around the men gave me the confidence to say what I thought to the women. I felt much more at ease and comfortable just having that testosterone around me.

And I don’t know why.

The next day at our church small group, I was reminded again how consistent I am at being weird. While all the ladies where sitting at the table, I was in the living room cheering on some football team. Later when they teased me about trying to be one of the guys, I just smiled and kept my seat.

So yeah, I’m abnormal. I accept it. Thankfully my friends accept it as well. I just thought you in Bloggityville should be aware that although I may seem normal on screen, let me assure you, you’ll probably think differently if and when we meet in real life.

Just giving you fair warning should you ever want to MIRL. I probably should have reminded these sweet girls before we met up last time. Well, now they know should we continue the tradition as the years progress.

And I really should have given the warning to Mr. Right. That man just didn’t know what kind of mess he was getting himself into…

Irony

This morning I woke up very early because I was having a dream that I was having a very loud, very vocal argument with myself about waking myself up early.

Sometimes I hate it when I'm right... even when I'm asleep.

I Know What I Can Be For Halloween...

Last night I decided to follow Jeana's advice about feeling better, which required honey and a clove of garlic that has been pressed.  Unable to find my garlic press, I opened the kitchen door that lead to the closed garage, thinking that I must have accidentally put it in storage in our garage.

As I reached around to turn on the light, I stepped down on to our step... and felt something slightly furry touch my foot.  (Here is where I should mention that we don't own an outdoor pet.  Our cat stays indoors.  At all times.  Our indoor does not include our garage.)  In the span of a nanosecond, I turned on the light and jumped back a step, all the while, very operatically singing, "Oooooooooooh Myyyy Goooooooooodneeeeeeeeeeeess!" as I looked at the opossum staring up at me.

Did I mention that I have great lungs and abdomen strength and that my voice can carry up two flights of stairs so well that it can cause Mr. Right to come running down the stairs, phone in hand, ready to call 911 as soon as he knew the nature of my emergency?  I totally copped to being a girl and begged Mr. Right to chase that critter out of the garage.  

I knew those Music Major classes in college would come in handy sooner or later.  

So now I've decided to be a new type of Superhero for Halloween - Opera Woman!  I can shatter glass, leap tall steps and cause opossums to play dead with a single note.  Oh yeah.  I'm great in cases of emergencies. 

Now, if I could just find a helmet with horns I'll be in business...