The Extra Roll Conspiracy

Since Rocky has been working out of the house we have been managing to swing a date lunch each week. We've been to a lot of different restaurants, and I have noticed a conspiracy. When you go to a place that brings bread to start, they always bring one more roll than there is people at the table. At first I thought it was a fluke, but then I realized it was a standard. It's a trick! They are playing on our politeness. They can not bring more rolls until the basket is empty, so they put in one more than you have people counting on you not to take the last roll.

If someone at the table is bold enough to take that last roll, your basket gets refilled with the exact right number, which is also a trick. If one person at the table has already had their second roll because they took the last one then once everyone else gets their second there will still be 1 extra roll sitting there.
The only way to win is after everyone gets their first roll, take the last one, and cut it into equal parts to divide with everyone at the table. Then stare down the waiter until they refill your basket and restores the balance.
It is either this, or they are hoping to watch a fight break out over the last roll.
Speaking of weird things I've noticed at restaurants, Rocky orders Diet Coke, and I order Coke, but over and over again they bring me the diet. What's the deal? I am not saying my husband needs to diet, but between the two of us, I am clearly not the one dieting. Do they just default to the woman? I've finally started saying, "regular Coke", which seems to make them take notice and remember.
If I'm being truly honest, our mixed drink marriage goes deeper than that. This is what is in my frig right now.

I know, I know, but we make it work in spite of the differences.

High School, Here We Come

In just a few short days I will be the parent of a high school freshman. Every time I say that I hear dramatic music play in my head. It is like the kind you hear right before the commercial break of a soap opera, or maybe when the killer jumps out in a horror movie, I'm not sure which it is yet.
We have had three pretty great years in middle school. I remember being equally nervous when she started middle school. I was so concerned about all the new challenges that she would face. I worried about peer pressure and bullying and if the work would be too much. The truth is that the work is harder, there are more pressures from friends, and there are always bullies, but she was ready to take it all on. She made new friends, sadly lost some old ones whose lives took different directions, and became much more sure of herself and of what friendship meant. In short, these challenges I was fearing became the very things she needed to mature.
This new change has me fearing something totally different. Sure there are the same old questions of course load and peer interaction, but what keeps me up now is the knowledge that these next four years are my last chance to ready her for leaving home. The school seems to be doing their best to remind me of this. All the talk of colleges and tests and career paths just drives home the feeling of time slipping away. Hearing things like "By now your child probably has an idea of what they want to major in when they go to college, and narrowed down the field of possible places they'd like to attend" gives me heart palpitations. It hasn't been even a full year since my daughter ruled out "professional ballerina". That is only one step removed from "fairy princess". Now she is researching things like forensic psychology and the best pre-law degrees. I'm not ready for this! But, she is, and that is the only thing keeping me sane.

Secret Hero

Nix has taken ballet classes for 8 years now. Since the start she has taken from our local Park & Rec. There are a lot of unusual things about our school. The teachers are not the harsh task masters that you picture dance teachers being. When I say all are welcomed, I really mean all. They do not discriminate on size, shape, or ability. You will never hear one of these teachers tell a girl that they need to lose weight, or tell a child with a special need that they can't participate. In fact, this past weekend, a girl with Down Syndrome was the star of her tap class. I didn't realize just how amazing this school was until my mom overheard a conversation just before the recital started.
Costumes are often a topic of much discussion between us dance moms. We love them, we hate them. we are glad our class got short, long, pink, not pink, this year. Just your basic dealing with a hundred stage moms type talk, only mostly nicer because we are a fun group. My mom heard two moms remarking that this year's costume was not nearly as itchy a last year's. (tulle is scratchy) Then one of the moms reveals that her daughter has sensory issues and could not stand the costume from the year before. Her teacher, Ms. Sara took the costume home and made a soft lining for the entire inside of the costume. Who does that? Awesome people who are secretly heroes, that's who!
Here is the part that made it even more special to me. If you were to use one word to describe each dance teacher you'd hear words like happy, bubbly  chipper, perky, and energetic, but for Sara, you'd probably say serious or perfection. Her hair is in a clean, tight bun, her dance shoes are on, and her matter of fact manner is what you always see with her. Even though she is a very nice person, I don't think I would have suspected that she was secretly ensuring that a girl with issues a great many dance teacher would have no sympathy for, could not only enjoy dance class, but could perform in the school's annual show.
I am positive that Sara would not tell others that she is up to this kind of service, so I'm outing her. It is exactly this kind of attitude that has kept us going to this school for 8 years.

 Nix backstage

And this is why we should never take up drinking

Rocky and I don't drink alcohol, at all, never have. There are a number of reasons why. Some are religious, some personal experience. This week I found a new reason that we should not be allowed to drink ever.
Rocky was super busy with work one morning and didn't have time to make coffee. I thought I'd be all helpful and make it for him. This argument was a result of that kindness.

Me: How many cups should I make?
Rock: 10
Me: Hahaha, I'm not drinking any. Really, how many? 4?
Rock: No, really. They measure it weird on the pot. At least make 8
Me: You drink 8 cups of coffee in a day!? That is WAY too much.
Rocky: No, I drink 2.
Me: Then explain again why I'm making 8
Rocky: It takes that much to fill my cup up twice. I drink 2 cups.
Yeah, his mug holds 24 ounces at a time. A serving of coffee is 6oz.

I instantly get a picture in my mind of him saying, "I promise officer I only had 1 glass of wine." And then I'd be no help because I suspect a half of a glass of wine would have me drunker than Reese Witherspoon. Except, I don't think I'd be a stand by your man kind of drunk like she is. I'd be telling the cop how I told him that the glass held 12 oz and that was really almost 3 glasses of wine, but he wouldn't listen. Then we'd all go to jail. I'm not sure how I would end up arrested too, but I think it is a safe bet.
Since I went ahead and threw Reese Witherspoon under the bus here, I thought I'd mention that I actually buy her "1 too many" excuse. The girl is literally smaller than my 14 year old. Anything more than 1 glass is probably 1 too many for her.

Are Bullies Aware?

I'm starting to wonder if bullies know that they are bullies. I know the stereotypical "Give me your lunch money" guy probably knows, but does the snotty girl who is passive aggressively mean know that she is a bully? This past week Nix came out and asked one of her tormentors, let's call her K, what her problem was, and was pretty taken aback by her answer. K accused Nix of thinking that she is better than everyone, and that she was just trying to bring Nix down a peg. Keep in mind that my kid is the no makeup wearing, wouldn't know one boy band from the next, British tv watching, introverted geek (so, me at that age, but smarter). The super popular, athletic, brand name everything, party girl was accusing her of elitism. This was confusing on so many levels.
I have to hand it to Nix, she kept her wits about her and asked for specifics. Nix and K have Spanish together. K struggles in class where as Nix, who has taken Spanish for several years, excels. K sees life as a competition. Since she feels superior when she beats someone, she assumes that others feel superior when they beat her. Nix is winning a competition she didn't even know she was in, and is being punished for it.  It gets better. Other signs of Nix's superiority complex include her advanced vocabulary and lack of swearing.  Apparently, because she does not work to fit in with the mainstream, it is assumed that she thinks they are beneath her. SERIOUSLY?!
Someone who was a popular kid, please tell me this is not standard!
How can it be possible that the bullies are walking around thinking they are in the right and the introverted nerds are the snobs? Was that girl in high school who started hating me out of the blue just reacting to some slight I had no idea that she was perceiving?
Just in case you are wondering, thin people don't really care about your weight. Smart people don't care about your IQ. People are usually too concerned with what they think is wrong with their own appearance to worry about yours. Introverts are not avoiding you, they are avoiding people in general because they find certain types of personal interaction very stressful.
We'd all be better off if we embraced the idea of not assuming what people think because chances are good they don't think of us at all.

Glitter Glitter Everywhere

I'm a reasonably crafty person. I have a craft table and various craft supplies, but in the past I've shied away from glitter. It is an understatement to say that it gets everywhere. Scientist have used it in air vents to test how biological weapons could be deployed and the impact they would have. At Christmas time I open the mail over the trash can in case someone has sent us a glitter bomb disguised as a holiday greeting. I have been an avid grumbler when my daughter's ballet recital dresses were glittery. Don't even get me started on the spray glitter moms. I don't mean the ones who spray a little on their child. I'm talking about the moms who use it like hairspray backstage at the Miss GA World pageant infecting all who are within a 10 foot radius.
I started with the easy stuff. Glitter glue. You don't have to worry about it going everywhere because it is already in the glue. I made this nifty thing from pinterest where you take a bottle and put water, glitter, and glitter glue in it. When you shake it up the glitter slowly floats to the bottom and is very peaceful. I decided that my glitter was settling too quickly and added more glitter glue to slow it down. The problem is that it didn't break up right and I now have what looks like glitter poop in my jar. Red glitter poop is not relaxing.
This past month I bought some gold tulle to use in making a fabric flower to go with Nix' 8th grade dance dress. I didn't realize at the time that I bought it that the glitter on the fabric wasn't so much attached as it was sprinkled on. I noticed that when I stood up from making the flower and saw that my lap looked like Tinkerbell had thrown up on me. Somehow the fabric still seemed to have plenty on it.
Next came the mask. Her dance is a masquerade. Naturally, her dress doesn't match any store bought mask. In fact, most of the masks outright clash with her dress. This lead me to purchase loose glitter to aid in decorating one from scratch. I actually ended up experimenting with mod podge to glitter ratios.
The final straw came this week when I voluntarily offered to get tiny silver glitter top hats for Nix' ballet class as they will be circus magicians in this year's recital. These hats absolutely rain glitter. I decided to bring them all home and spray them down with a clear acrylic to help seal it all down.
I need a glittervention. Just the fact that I made up the word "glittervention" means I have gone too far and need help. It is the glue and spray fumes. They have gotten to my brain. Last night I went to wash my face and there was glitter all over the wash cloth. I don't even know how it got there. I've had a glitter blackout.

On the upside, look how the mask turned out! It looks beautiful on her. Believe it or not, I had most of the supplies laying around the house.

No Really, This Happened

Sometimes things happen that are so bizarre that I hesitate to tell people about them because I'm not sure I believe it actually happened even though I witnessed it. JD has been pulling a lot of those lately. Yesterday probably topped them all.
We were in the car driving home, and out of nowhere JD says, "Hey. I'm Christopher Walken". ??? No one would actually mistake him for Walken, but he kind of had the right accent and inflection going on. Christopher Walken doesn't exactly do children's movies so at this point I'm more than a little confused. Nix had to ask who Walken is, and I said he was probably one of the creepiest actors out there and the "More cowbell" guy. At this point JD says in his Walken voice, "I am offended." I almost had to pull the car over to collect myself.
He finally fessed up that there was a bit on a Disney Channel show about how all of this kid's impressions sounded like a bad Christoper Walken. Although he didn't actually know who Walken was, he knew it was funny, and knew it would be funnier to spring on me. He was right.
I wanted to video him doing it to prove it happened, but now that he knows it is funny he has exaggerated it and it doesn't sound the same as when he did it off the cuff. Rocky thinks that my shock in processing what he said made it sound better in my mind, which could be true. Even still, if your kid did even a really bad Walken out of the blue, you'd be freaked out, too.
Some days I really wonder what JD will grow up to be. The most likely choices right now seem to be comedian, politician, or con artist. Rocky says that is ridiculous. JD would never go into politics.
Since I can't give you JD, I'll leave you with the best prescription for a fever. (SNL clip to follow and all that implies)

Fun with $2

First of all, I feel like I need to say that I am not a practical joker. I have never seen the humor in rolling someone's house or scaring the pants of someone. In general, if a prank has been pulled, I am not behind it. I have aided in a few, but I'm never the mastermind. This really is an exception.
I was at Walmart and noticed that they had those little stick figure family stickers on clearance for only $2. I don't typically put things on my car windows, but I know a few people who do. This is when I remembered something I saw on Pinterest. A guy had taken an extra woman sticker and placed it on his neighbor's car making their stick family look like a plural marriage. It took the neighbor weeks to discover it. Que the evil laughter.
My first victim was my friend Tiffany. Her family likes a clear car window as well, but after running a half marathon she put a 13.1 sticker on her back window. I happen to know exactly where her car is going to be at a certain time on a certain day of the week because she is in the running group I quit shortly after I started. So, while Tiffany was out training for a new level of sticker, I added a cat to her window.

Part of what makes this funny is that she has a cat that spends the night mousing in the garage with the car. It was my deepest hope that, if even for a fleeting second, she'd consider the possibility that the cat put it there.
It took her 2 and a half days to find it. Not bad actually.

My other victim was one of my dance mom friends. She already had a stick family on her car, but they were a different size than the ones I had so adding an extra kid (my first choice) was out of the question. Instead I gave my friend a cute little purse. I always love the purses she carries, so it seemed fitting. How long did it take her to notice? Well, let's just say I will soon find out if she reads my blog.

Tonight's sticking was for a single friend of mine. (singularly awesome) This is my fun way of saying that this is the only man she needs. I know she reads my blog so if she doesn't see it tonight, she'll get a laugh tomorrow. I was going to behead the man, but there is a good chance her ex will see this and I don't want to start real trouble.

Mainly I think this week has been so hard for this country that I needed a few minutes of silly. I needed to smile at something completely stupid. It was a good distraction for me, and I hope it has lightened the mood of others as well.

Animal Family

I took a psychology class half of one year in high school. I didn't learn much in that class, but I do remember a couple of very useful things. For example, the first day of class the teacher wrote a number on the board, told us all not to remember it, and then erased it. That number was

34 

I wish I was kidding.
I also learned that in any crowd of people there is always one person thinking about Abraham Lincoln.

Now, that person will be you. That is unless I am there because this little nugget worms it's way to the surface much more often than it should.So really I learned more about needing a psychologist than I did any real psychology.
One fun assignment we had was to draw our family as animals. My family looked something like this:

My dad is tough, but kind so he got the smiling rhino. To me, kangaroos are the picture of motherhood. My brother was actually in college at the time and taking a repelling class and cave exploring and it all just seem kind of monkey like to me. I actually meant it in a  nice way... I think. The tiny bird for me is pretty clear even if you haven't had my level of training in psychology.
I was talking about this with Rocky and the kids. We all took turns talking about what animal each of us should be. What you pick for yourself is always so telling. I think the animals we picked for each other are much more flattering, and probably truer. Here is how we ended up

Rocky was probably the hardest and we are still on the fence between bear and wolf. Either way I think it lands on cuddly and yet fierce. Rocky picked fox for me, and the kids chimed in saying that was perfect. We all quickly agreed that JD is our little capuchin monkey, and Nix is sweet and cute and caring like the river otter.
I'm working to embrace the idea of being more of a fox, but often inside I still feel like a little bird.

Rookie Mistake

Today I found that Walmart still had some of the classic hollow chocolate bunnies left over and were selling them for 25 cents. I bought 2. What can I say, I'm a splurger. The fun part is that I bought them for my husband and me, not the kids. While they were at school I took off the ears and delighted in my ability to eat chocolate in peace. It was glorious. Then, as we finished up dinner, my husband announces, "I'm going to go eat the ears off my chocolate bunny." He knew that they did not have bunnies of their own. He knew! I just shook my head. Rookie move there my friend, rookie move. The pleas started instantly.

  "Can I have one ear?"

        "I'll take the other!"

I love my husband very much. I'd take a bullet for him. Well, maybe a rubber bullet. My point is, I would and have gotten him out of holes before, but he was on his own with this one. He must have noticed my mix of smirk and glare because he did not mention the fact that I had my own bunny stashed in the back of the frig, and I was certainly not going to offer it up to sacrifice. 

To his credit, Rocky kept his head after the initial mistake. He pointed out the mound of Easter candy still sitting in each kid's basket. He declared that it was his special bunny because I had bought it just for him, and he was going to eat it. Then he took a big chunk out of the ears as they watched. To my surprise, they cheered him on. They even made suggestions on how to keep the rest of the bunny safe from them trying to sneak a piece. The best idea was to just lick the whole thing, but he decided that placing it in a ziploc on the back of the top shelf would do. 

(what is left of my bunny)

The kids did tease him a good bit about not sharing and there was some good sarcastic "How could you?" cries. Nix brushed it off by saying, "It's cool. I still have my peeps.", which was made funnier by the fact that she didn't seem to get why we were laughing so hard. It was probably because these are the peeps she meant.

Stay in the lines!

I was a slightly obsessive little kid when it came to coloring. Before I colored a flower, I wanted to know what color a real flower could be. Before I colored a bird, I wanted to know what kind of bird it was so that I could color it the right color. I didn't always stay in the lines, but if I went outside the lines it was with a purpose. I'd add in sky or grass or whatever I felt was missing from the picture. So, I did color outside of the lines but in a very controlled manner. Also, I like to put my crayons in the box in rainbow order, but that is a different story.
Our society has become one that greatly encourages people to color outside the lines, but that is mostly metaphorical. I'm all for thinking outside of the box, but there is one time when it is vital that we all stay in the lines. WHEN YOU ARE DRIVING! There is no room for free thinking on the road. You can not just decide to break free of the man and leave the constraints of conformity while driving down the road. Especially when there is on coming traffic on one side and a drop off into a stream on the other.
My town is full of twisty narrow roads, and not a day goes by that I don't see someone drifting over the line. Yesterday a mini van managed to get fully into my lane while  coming around a corner. Watching someone drive into your lane knowing that you have nowhere to go and no way to dodge them is a terrible feeling. She corrected just in time... this time.
This has become such a frequent occurrence on one particular road that I am giving serious consideration to taking an alternate route to my daughter's school. It will take me several minutes more, but minutes verse a head on, or even seeing a head on crash happen, seems like a fair trade.
I was recently explaining defensive driving to Nix, and I think she summed it up nicely when she asked, "So driving is like a very dangerous game of dodge ball where you try not to hit someone or get hit?"

Bank Shot off Grandma

It is not unusual for old southern churches to have a cemetery next to the church. With the way our small town has grown in the past decade, several of these small old cemeteries have become landlocked. In normal circumstances that just means that no one else can be buried there, but one local Methodist church has other issues.

(click the image to see it larger)

If you look at the picture above you will notice that from left to right you have the church, a preschool playground, the graveyard/ parking lot, and then the soccer field.
I occasionally have a dark twist to my sense of humor. It is those days when I start to wonder if this arrangement has been problematic for them. Do the kids run out on the playground and say, "I see dead people"? If you get a bad parking spot on Sunday do you say, "I had to park way out by old man Holbrook, God rest his soul."? If you kick a soccer ball and it misses the goal, but then banks off a headstone and rolls in the back way, is the point good? Are the little kids afraid that misbehaving children end up on the other side of the fence? When you reserve a grave plot do you get to park there until you die?
I can't be the first person to wonder these things. The church should consider adding them to it's FAQ page on the website.

The Prayer Competition

We have family prayer time each night before bed, and like everything else, my kids have to try and turn it into a competition. The first issue we ran into was who was going to pray in what order. They created unofficial rules. The same person can't be first twice. You can't keep picking the same person to go last every night. JD thrives on patterns and order, so he would have some idea of how he thought the order should go, which was often a bad thing if he wasn't doing the picking. Finally the parents had to step in and create actual rules. If you get picked last tonight, you go first tomorrow. We will go in age order from youngest to oldest in a loop. I can not believe I have had to make up rules so that we could pray peacefully.
It was at this point that I started questioning if the kids were taking prayer time seriously. We all had a good long talk about how it was talking with God and a special time. I decided that they had become too repetitive as well and required them to add one thing different each night. It could be something they were thankful for, a friend in need, or a personal request. I wasn't picky, I just wanted them to really think through their prayers. That started out as a great success. I was all ready to congratulate myself on a stroke of genius when JD ended his prayer, "Amen. Ha! I got 3 extras. Top that!" After which Nix proceeded to add 5 things to hers. On the one hand, they were thinking through things and really had nice long prayers, but on the other prayer is not a competition! Time for yet another talk.
We've been on a good run lately with the exception of the night Nix prayed for rain and JD prayed for no rain. That night added the no contradicting each other clause. I'm starting to really understand how the Jewish law grew from 10 simple commandments into the rather lengthy combination of Levitical law, Mosaic law, and tradition. Maybe those children of Israel were just as competitive with each other as the children of our house.
One kind of cool thing has come of this though. Being picked last at prayer time is a place of honor in our house. So, if you are a guest and are picked last to pray it means that the kids want you back tomorrow so that you can lead prayer time, and choose the order.  JD has tried to use this as a tactic to get grandparents to stay an extra day.

Jesus Pictures Creep Me Out

First of all, I have had several friends forward me a link baiting me to post on something specific, and I can resist no more. There has been a new book released based on the miniseries "The Bible", and it isn't THE Bible. So, a show based on a book has written a book based on the show that is already based on a book. Pretend for half a second that we aren't talking about the holy word of God here. Say you love the show "Sherlock" and you would really like to read more about the main character. Do you hope someone writes a book series based on the show, or do you maybe pick up The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes which is the original work? See, even when you take God out of the equation it is still completely silly. They don't even credit the original work! The book cover actually says, "Based on the epic tv miniseries". When I said that the book was better than the movie, this is not the book I meant.

(see Amazon listing here)

Now that is out of the way, on to my strange title. I'm not watching "The Bible" show. I didn't see The Passion movie either. There are a few reasons I could point to for excuses, but the truth is depictions of Jesus creep me out. It's not him. We don't know what he looked like. We have stereotypical images of what people kind of hope he looked like, but they are all based on some regular person's features. Then there is the voice problem. For the rest of my life when I read a Harry Potter book Dumbledore will sound like Michael Gambon. Frodo will always sound in my mind like Elijah Wood. It is just how our brains work. Isn't it bad enough that Moses sounds like Charlton Heston? When I'm reading my bible and I get to the red letters I don't want to be thinking about the Count of Monte Cristo. Maybe my brain attaches to these things worse than others, or maybe I'm just crazy for letting it bother me. Either way I don't think I'm likely to change my mind. When I stand in judgement before God one day my thoughts will not be, "I thought he'd sound more like Morgan Freeman."

I Don't Buy It

In case you haven't heard, the internet is blowing up with anger over Victoria's Secret's intent to market to middle school girls. You can read details here at The Black Sphere. The VS facebook page is overflowing with people declaring their intent to boycott. Many people are wondering why they would think this was an acceptable marketing plan. As the mom of a middle school girl, I can tell you exactly why they thought it was a good idea. Every time I see a girl walking into school with that PINK logo on their clothes, I know. There are parents who allow their middle school girls to shop at VS. I wish I could say it was just one naive parent who doesn't realize how much the word pink written on the back of pants says, but it's not. It is a whole group of people who would rather write their kids a blank check than sit down and have an honest talk about why the world tries to sexualize them. They don't want to have to put their foot down over a pair of yoga pants. Besides, they look cute in them, right? I have heard that rational way too many times. I actually snapped one day and replied, "Pedophiles think it's cute, too." I was not a popular mom that day. They didn't want to look at it from that point of view. As a parent, it is our job to consider that point first. This is why I'm not too concerned about VS and their marketing plans. My middle school girl isn't allowed to set foot in their store. She isn't allowed to wander around the mall unsupervised. She doesn't buy clothes without consulting me. I didn't make a rule about this. I set a pattern from the start, and she accepts that it is how our family works. Maybe she'll test these boundaries later, but she has made it through middle school without once pushing this limit.
The funny thing is, the world at large has been marketing VS to middle schoolers for sometime now. This new campaign doesn't actually change much. Parents like me will still not shop there. Girls with permissive parents will still turn a blind eye. If you really want to make a difference, start in your own home. Don't just stop shopping at places like this, cancel the catalogs, block the swimsuit editions, stop getting the magazines promoting this attitude. Talk to your kids about the real meaning of words like "sexy" and "provocative", and why they should never, ever apply to children. We can not control what the rest of the world promotes, but we can control what we let into our homes.

I hope I get lice! ?

I was in the grocery store today, and a Passover display caught my eye.  I stopped to look at the seder plates and different food items they had there. Then, I noticed a few things marked for entertaining children. I won't go so far as to call them toys.

If this had not been $11 someone would have found it in their stocking this year, probably my brother. I have to hand it to them, at least they are trying to make the real meaning of Passover fun... interesting... um, on a child's level? What do we have at Easter? Chocolate bunnies. That has absolutely nothing to do with resurrection. Then I saw this.

"But Mom, Sarah got to be locust last year. I want to be the locus. Why am I always the first born? I don't like playing dead. Can I just be boils?"
Who thought of this? A better question might be why do I want to go back and buy it? It gets funnier the more I look at it.
This leads well into a funny conversation I had with JD the other day. He noticed an advertisement for The Bible miniseries. He asked if I had been watching it. I told him no. I haven't taken the time to research who made it, what their take on things is, etc. Then he says, "They probably added a bunch of violence to keep people interested." I laughed, and explained that they's be hard pressed to get half of the violence in the Bible past censors. I don't often think about it, but the Bible is an incredibly violent book. Plagues, wars, deaths, beheadings  and lets not forget crucifixion. It is not for the weak of heart. I don't think JD had ever stopped to think about it that way.
Passover starts next Monday. We will be taking time out as a family to go over the history behind Passover and remind the kids and ourselves of the violence we all escaped thanks to the blood of Christ.

Why Don't We Share

This morning at church our pastor shared his personal testimony. I don't think I have ever heard a pastor tell the story of his own life in full like that. It struck me how intensely personal so much of it was. I, and all the others in the service, really know who he is now on a much deeper level than before. That is a might big wall to tear down before another person, let alone a few hundred. It left an emotional impact on me. I wanted to hear more, and it also clarified something about myself that I've sort of struggled with.
Have you ever had someone come up to you and say something like, "Do you know Jesus?" Did you cringe inside and smile and nod for fear of provoking an avalanche of crazy? I've always felt a little guilty that my first impulse is to run from people who approach me like that, but now I get it. They have asked me something incredibly personal while giving me nothing personal of their own. God is personal. How can you share about Him without first being personal yourself?
I am a reasonably introverted person. Although I am very open in my blog and on Facebook, I very rarely show that same level of openness in person. I've always kind of wondered why I have trouble witnessing to people in person. I've shared here before and through other sites, but when it comes to outright speaking to people I freeze up. I think it is because I am just not naturally wired to be that personal with people I don't know. On the other hand, sharing online has enabled me to make connections that wouldn't have happened otherwise.
I realized that it is actually very important that we not only share our testimony with people we fear are lost, but it is also important to share with other believers because it forms a bond, a love, and a kinship. Typically when you get a new member of your family you don't have to ask how they got there. They marry in, are born in, or are otherwise brought in with some form of fan fair. It is different when we enter into the family of God. We all got here in a different way, at a different age, and for different reasons.
I guess the main thing I'm saying is that if I haven't personally shared the most important part of my life with you, I'm sorry. I'd like to. Ask me any time. If you do have questions about life, death, eternity, or God in general, I'm more than happy to talk with you. If I can't answer your question, I'll find someone who can. If you just want me to pray for you, I can do that, too. Just because I don't stop you and ask "Do you know Jesus?" doesn't mean I don't want to know and share.

Responsible Parenting

Ever since Nix turn 13 I've been slowly going through all of the "Oh, you have to see this movie" list with her. It has been really fun to watch some of these movies with her for the first time. I love introducing the next generation to beloved classics such as Back to the Future, Buckaroo Bonzai, and Drop Dead Gorgeous. Maybe "beloved classic" is an overstatement on a couple of those, but definitely important to properly warping your child's sense of humor.
Speaking of warping your children, the topic of James Bond came up the other day. I don't think I'm ready just yet to start Nix on those, but when she does she will start with Sean Connery. Starting with any other Bond would be like watching Star Wars Episode 1 before you've seen 4, 5, & 6. You just can't do it that way and really appreciate the series. Just imagine if your first Bond had been Timothy Dalton, and how that would have changed your whole perception of the franchise. I can not do that to her.
One thing I am debating has to do with Keanu Reeves. No matter what that man does for the rest of his life I will always first see him as Ted Theodore Logan. I am okay with that, mainly because I am not really much of a fan of his in general, but do I inflict that same curse on my child? Do I show her Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure before Speed, before The Matrix, before Point Break? Do I want my daughter to grow up where Keanu is Neo instead of Ted? After a little research I realized that Bill & Ted is the only one of those that isn't rated R, so that betters the odds that my daughter will first learn to "be excellent to each other" before she decides if she wants the red or blue pill.

Since I am on the topic of watching movies from our youth, I need to put out a little warning. You might want to rewatch a movie before you show it to your kid. It turns out that most of my favorite movies from my teen years had been edited heavily when I first saw them. A few to watch out for are The Karate Kid (original), Ferris Bueller's Day Off (yikes!), Stand By Me (no wonder my parents didn't let me see it), and Gremlins. I was kind of hoping to show Nix the Die Hard and Lethal Weapon movies, but I don't think I am old enough to watch those unedited yet. I'm starting to think Mel Gibson's backside was in every 80's movie, even the ones he wasn't in.
What are the movies you can't wait to show your kids? I may need to expand our list. After I show her Goonies, I think I've run through all the good ones.

Word Extraction Request

Today people have been asked to "spread the word to end the word". Now, usually I am a big proponent of increasing one's vocabulary, however there are a few words that really need to go the way of sagittipotent. The word we are requesting be expunged is "Retarded" and all variations thereof. It doesn't matter if you are using it about yourself, in a medically correct manor, or just out of habit. You need to let it go. For too long it has been used as an offensive term to the point that it can not longer be used without being wrong. Please don't act like this is an odd request, or even something new. There are a lot of words that in the past were used to describe one thing and turned into swear words. Just to name a few, there is the other word for donkeys, female dogs, and the way British people request to borrow a cigarette will get you punched in most biker bars in the U.S. Don't even get me started on the hideous "N" word. So, why is this word any different? It is mean, and not just to the person you are hurling it upon. It is cutting to anyone around you whose lives have been touched by some form of disability. If you attempted to turn other medical issues into an insult, you'd be flogged. Can you imagine someone saying, "You are just a chemo brained looser!"? What kind of jerk would say something like that? Well, in reality saying, "Sometimes I am so retarded" is not any different than saying "Sometimes I am so diabetic" when what you really mean is that you haven't eaten in a while and have gotten kind of irritable. The only difference in those statements is that one is something you hear far too often and the other seems insensitive.  Guess what? They are both insensitive! There are a hundred other ways to say what you mean. There are thousands of words you could use instead that are not degrading to others. Pick one.
If you need more convincing, here is a link to what my friend Tiffany had to say about it.
End the Word Day
She is one of the hardest to offend people I have met. So, if she says it is offensive, it must be bad. :)

* In case you were wondering, "sagittipotent" means someone who is a good archer, and the word is not recognized by spell check. Wouldn't it be nice if our generation could make "retarded" unrecognized by spell check?

This is why people don't trust doctors

"So, how was your Valentine's Day?", is often asked of me with hesitation because everyone knows I'm cursed, and that I have well documented it. I set my bar low now. I always hope to reply, "I've had worse." I have had worse than this year, but it just wouldn't be fun if I didn't share this year's frustration.

Many days ahead of time, I got a migraine. That is nothing new for me. I tried all my usual tricks to end it, but with no luck. On the 13th I broke down and went to the doctor. At this point I had been trudging through for 5 days. There is a very simple old school pain medicine that I have been taking for about 8 years that works really well for me. I take one, go to sleep, and wake up back to my regular self. Usually the doctor gives me 30 pills and it lasts me about 2 1/2 years. I've been out for a few months now and managing fine, but it was clearly time for a refill. I made an appointment and went among the sick and contagious under the extremely bright fluorescents  braved a world full of smells to hear a chirpy little PA tell me that they don't prescribe that medicine anymore because it rarely works on migraines. I tried explaining that it has worked on mine for 8 years, but she wasn't having it. Then she tells me of this magical land of migraine medication outside of the one I had tried with a horrible reaction. By now the glaring lights and smell of disinfectant had gotten to me, worn me down, and I agreed to try something new. I just wanted to stop hurting and really didn't care what did it. From there I went to the pharmacy with a lighter step hoping that relief would soon be mine. I asked the pharmacist how much this new wonder drug was going to cost me. Please keep in mind that my old medication cost me $10 for 30 pills that lasted over 2 years. My new script that might not even work was for 10 pills. I know the pharmacist kept saying numbers after the words "three hundred", but I couldn't tell you what they were because I think I had a mini stroke or maybe blacked out with rage.
After I fought off the urge to return to the doctor's office with a box of matches, I calmly called the nurses line and left a message explaining why this would not work for me. She called back and suggested the drug that I had already had a bad reaction to (eye twitching). Since the nurse can't control what the doctor prescribes she said she'd have to talk with them and get back to me. That didn't happen for a full week, well beyond the "too little, too late" mark. Instead I took an over the counter medication which took the edge off long enough for me to sleep, but comes with an ugly price for my stomach the next day.
I awoke Valentine's Day with my head still hurting, my stomach singing me the song of it's people (a song that demands the acoustics of the bathroom), and a general bad attitude because once again a doctor had refused to listen to common sense (don't mess with what works) and left me in pain for yet another day.
Three days after Valentine's I agreed to attend a banquet for church teens and parents. It had a Valentine theme, but it was three days later and included kids. Surely this would be okay. Yeah, not so much. Rocky waited a full week and a half to get the cold the rest of us had already recovered from. He had almost no voice and a general feeling of being run over by a truck. Pitiful really. I hate it when he feels bad. I also hate that the kids were already set on going and I went to the banquet dateless. The topic of the talk that night was dating, not my best subject. I gave Nix permission to date twice as many guys as I did. For some reason she wasn't excited by that. Probably because she is good at math and knows that still only equals 2.
It turns out that Rocky had just forgotten to take his allergy medicine for awhile, so he is fine now. All in all, it wasn't bad. A little pain, some sniffles, and memories of my dateless teen years is pretty good in comparison.
Please laugh. I did. It is just another year of weird, out of our hands, bad Valentines.