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Showing posts from July, 2010

It Always Helps to Own the Stolen Vehicle You are Being Arrested for Driving

It is one thing to have your vehicle stolen from your own driveway while you sleep. It is another to be pulled over months later driving that same stolen vehicle with your kids in tow.  We had owned a popular version of a Chevy Silverado that had a spectacular paint job that sparkled in the sun.  The first time it was stolen from us out of a local parking lot should have been a signal to us not to purchase the exact same vehicle. When it never returned and was probably being sold off for parts, we did exactly what we shouldn't have done and bought the same style truck again.... same paint job... same shine.... same invisible sign that screamed "Come Steal Me."  Several years later, as the paint began to fade and the shine wasn't quite so obvious, it sat tucked safely in our carport full of all things a hunter would love.... guns, bright orange vests, Columbia jackets and more.  My husband rose early the next morning to take to the woods and join the masses in the firs

Early Morning Visits from God, The Utility Guy and the Crying Eyed Cat

Since the time that I was pregnant with my first child I have struggled with insomnia.  I wake abruptly and all throughout the night with sudden realizations that I forgot to put Downy in the rinse cycle or failed to mail the water payment in a timely manner.    I never wake from the thoughts that should wake someone, such as..."The iron is on and the curtains are beginning to smolder."  The thoughts that throw me awake are subtle whispers that I failed to accomplish everything on my "Mom" To Do List.    A pattern began to emerge over the years and most nights I wake at exactly 3:33 a.m.  Instead of finding this odd, I find comfort in the fact that I am keeping to a schedule.  While I am acutely aware of numeric patterns, this has never stood out to me as strange.  When I was eight months pregnant,  I would wake from a foot lodged in my bladder and joke that it must be 3:33 a.m.  It always was. It was playtime for the baby.  My son has had the same crazy sleep habit

Cutting Your Own Hair is Never a Good Decision

Most people learn by the age of four that it is not a wise choice to cut your own hair.  It took me forty five years to learn this valuable lesson.  I am cursed with fine, straight hair and I have spent a lifetime paying good money to have tiny snippets of hair cut off in a simple straight line.  I’ve watched this precision cutting take place multiple times.  How hard could it be?  My barber is a magician and makes it look so easy to do.   After three failed attempts to get an appointment for a trim and one particularly hot summer day that left those straight locks of hair plastered to my face and neck, I got this brilliant idea that I could perform this same simple cut on my own hair.   Let me preface this by saying that I now know why beauticians pay hundreds of dollars for high quality sharp scissors.  One should not attempt this act at home with the same scissors that are used for opening freezer pops or cutting cardboard boxes open.  Being somewhat intelligent, I knew that I coul

Thou Shalt Not Google Thine Own Self

I have this secret passion for tiny six ounce cans of grape juice.  They are expensive, so I hide them away in the 'fridge like precious treasure.  Last night my daughter was serving them up to her friends explaining how she enjoyed this product at Communion.  She told them how "Back in the day, Jesus and his friends loved Welch's Grape Juice."   She went on to explain how once a month they all got together for a big supper and that they served bread and blood and grape juice. Before I had a chance to jump in and explain the representational association of grape juice and Christ's blood, the conversation immediately flowed to the Volvo Driving Vampires of Twilight and their thirst for blood and not juice products.    This is the same child that once explained the Ten Commandments to me and felt it was her duty to point out if I might be approaching the violation of any of them.   My favorite on her list of Godly rules is  "Thou shalt not cover the bare footed

Igloo Coolers and Family Wellness

The Fourth of July is upon us and that means a weekend of wet beach towels, BBQ sauce on every surface within a 20 yard radius of the grill and a sudden self-mastery of back yard pyrotechnics.  For the past twenty years I have spent many an Independence Day camping with the family.    Last year, I officially proclaimed that I am past the age of sleeping in a tent on the side of a lake eating out of a cooler.  Granted, I have done that on many occasions and the memories are wonderful, but there comes a time when you’ve experienced all you can possibly experience.  I learned early on that the success of a Fourth of July camp out is completely dependent on the contents of the cooler.   When I was in my twenties, that red igloo cooler contained beer, water, more beer, chips, salsa, limes and more beer.  Camping was relaxing and loads of fun.  The first camp out with children completely changed my cooler packing skills.  Now we had juice boxes, frozen breast milk, fresh fruit, and an assort