Saturday, March 31, 2007
March Sadness
Usually March finds me walking down the block to POLO house, wearing Cowboy orange and carrying an ice chest. No matter what time of day the games came on, their was always a crowd gathering for March Madness. Often we were cheering for our beloved Cowboys or another conference team.
But this year has been different.
Watching Cowboy basketball during the last half of the season was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. You were horrified at the sight of the wreck in progress. But yet you watched with a glimmer of hope - wishing for a miracle that would make the outcome different. But, alas, the outcome was as you feared. No Big Dance invitation and a first round defeat in the NIT.
I am sad.
Other changes have also occurred that have made this March sad. Several of the fans have gone to work at real jobs and are no longer as free to gather on weekday afternoons for the festivities. And our weekends have been scattered with other obligations.
I miss the madness.
But today, I will don my newly purchased Georgetown t-shirt and become a Hoya fan.
I can't completely go without the madness!
simple faith
Usually March finds me walking down the block to POLO house, wearing Cowboy orange and carrying an ice chest. No matter what time of day the games came on, their was always a crowd gathering for March Madness. Often we were cheering for our beloved Cowboys or another conference team.
But this year has been different.
Watching Cowboy basketball during the last half of the season was like watching a train wreck in slow motion. You were horrified at the sight of the wreck in progress. But yet you watched with a glimmer of hope - wishing for a miracle that would make the outcome different. But, alas, the outcome was as you feared. No Big Dance invitation and a first round defeat in the NIT.
I am sad.
Other changes have also occurred that have made this March sad. Several of the fans have gone to work at real jobs and are no longer as free to gather on weekday afternoons for the festivities. And our weekends have been scattered with other obligations.
I miss the madness.
But today, I will don my newly purchased Georgetown t-shirt and become a Hoya fan.
I can't completely go without the madness!
simple faith
Labels: Life
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
A Time Thing
As usual, it is either feast or famine in our schedules. The past several weeks have been feast weeks. We recently returned from a trip to our Nation's Capital. It was thought provoking and wonderful - there will be more about this in coming days.
But for now, let's get back to Lent. Yes, I know, it's almost over!
As I have said, sometimes I observe Lent and sometimes I do not. Last year I sorta' just fell in to it.
Looking back, I am not sure exactly what all was going on that led me to be so obsessed with time management. Perhaps I was just having a "Golden Spell" or maybe I was just wrapped in to a daily mantra of "If I can organize it, I can achieve it!" Whatever the case, I was literally getting up and putting my watch on first thing in the morning.
Seriously scary - running around in jammies, constantly checking my watch to see if everyone was on schedule, fretting over lost minutes. It was nuts!!! And yes, there is a clock in practically every room of our home. But for some reason that did not matter. I was depending on my watch to order my day.
Observing Lent was not really on my radar. But then my watch stopped working. I am sure the batteries were dead, as were the batteries in my back-up watch. For some reason, I did the unthinkable - I simply chose not to replace them.
At first it was weird - nothing on my wrist to give me a false sense of controlling my time. I, literally, had to repeat the line all my Orange friends who refuse to wear watches use - "There are clocks everywhere in the world."
And without realizing it, God was beginning my Lenten journey. Without a watch to guard my time, my pace slowed and my eyes began to observe more things around me. I did not feel like I accomplished less. In fact I always seemed to accomplish what needed to be done. I accomplished the necessary and I enjoyed the journey. One of my new catch phrases became, "It is not the destination, it is the journey."
Through it all I also began learning the true meaning of the following verse:
"Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom."
Psalm 90:12
I had tried to number my days according to my wisdom - schedules, deadlines, "boxes" - but that was not what I needed. I needed to be teachable. I needed to recognize God's order and honor Him as the one who truly guards my time.
And today, my watches are still without working batteries.
simple faith
As usual, it is either feast or famine in our schedules. The past several weeks have been feast weeks. We recently returned from a trip to our Nation's Capital. It was thought provoking and wonderful - there will be more about this in coming days.
But for now, let's get back to Lent. Yes, I know, it's almost over!
As I have said, sometimes I observe Lent and sometimes I do not. Last year I sorta' just fell in to it.
Looking back, I am not sure exactly what all was going on that led me to be so obsessed with time management. Perhaps I was just having a "Golden Spell" or maybe I was just wrapped in to a daily mantra of "If I can organize it, I can achieve it!" Whatever the case, I was literally getting up and putting my watch on first thing in the morning.
Seriously scary - running around in jammies, constantly checking my watch to see if everyone was on schedule, fretting over lost minutes. It was nuts!!! And yes, there is a clock in practically every room of our home. But for some reason that did not matter. I was depending on my watch to order my day.
Observing Lent was not really on my radar. But then my watch stopped working. I am sure the batteries were dead, as were the batteries in my back-up watch. For some reason, I did the unthinkable - I simply chose not to replace them.
At first it was weird - nothing on my wrist to give me a false sense of controlling my time. I, literally, had to repeat the line all my Orange friends who refuse to wear watches use - "There are clocks everywhere in the world."
And without realizing it, God was beginning my Lenten journey. Without a watch to guard my time, my pace slowed and my eyes began to observe more things around me. I did not feel like I accomplished less. In fact I always seemed to accomplish what needed to be done. I accomplished the necessary and I enjoyed the journey. One of my new catch phrases became, "It is not the destination, it is the journey."
Through it all I also began learning the true meaning of the following verse:
"Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom."
Psalm 90:12
I had tried to number my days according to my wisdom - schedules, deadlines, "boxes" - but that was not what I needed. I needed to be teachable. I needed to recognize God's order and honor Him as the one who truly guards my time.
And today, my watches are still without working batteries.
simple faith
Friday, March 16, 2007
Human Touch
Well, it is obvious that the last couple of weeks have been hectic - not much time for blogging. Too many projects and deadlines to spend much time being creative in this venue. But last Friday night was a welcomed break from the pace.
I had been looking forward to it for a couple of weeks. The radio advertising had worked. A girl listening to classic rock - an advertisement for a Rick Springfield concert - a trip down memory lane. . . . .
In our early years of dating, Rick Springfield always came to Sooner Town during my birthday month. My then 5'9" and oh-so-fine boyfriend (my now 5'9" and oh so fine husband) would take me to the concert and dinner as my birthday gift.
Upon hearing the announcement on the radio, I began pondering ways I could make attending the concert a reality in my life. I needed a partner in crime to completely convince my husband that it was worth the trip to Sooner Town during the middle of a hectic schedule. I had the perfect partner in mind - she was my kinda' girl - a former "Jesse's Girl"!
I phoned my sister-in-law, Wog. Have you heard? Do you think? She was in on the scheme.
A few phone calls later, we have tickets reserved and are both singing Rick's songs and dancing down memory lane (sigh).
The big night comes. We all arrive (sans kids) to the casino and the 1500 seat theater where the concert is happening. The casino is new and pretty - so new it has not yet obtained it's alcohol and liquor license. Bummer because I was looking forward to an Amaretto Sour.
We take our seats. Our row is filled with conversations of how young we all are and stories of trying to share our excitement of attending this concert with people who are way younger than us and have the audacity to say "Who?". Some of these younger people did not even know "Jesse's Girl"!!!
The concert soon begins. The music is good and Rick looks great! While singing "Don't Talk to Strangers" he pulls a little girl (probably 4 or 5) on to the stage. She is holding a "Rick taught me - Don't Talk to Strangers" sign and wearing a "Rick Rocks" t-shirt. Her mom was obviously a "Jesse's Girl" too!
And then it happens. Rick puts on a cordless mic and begins working his way through the crowd while singing "Human Touch". We are seated in the second section. I am convinced he will never come back that far. But he continues to work his way toward us.
I turn to Wog and ask her to warn her husband that he best move out of our way quickly if Rick comes to our section. And he continues to work his way toward us.
I turn to say, "Let's go!" but Wog has already grabbed me and we are up on the chairs, running across them in our high heeled boots. Somehow, amazingly, we make it to him as he perches himself on the wall separating the two sections. He touches Wog's hand, along with just a few others! We are in the midst of the crowd surrounding him and I dare not look at the big screens for fear that we are on them - not usually a pretty site.
Wog trades me spots. Rick smiles at me - well, maybe it was at all of us - and gives us a questioning look. He then turns. . .falls back on us. . . and my hand touches his shoulder!! GASP! I have never been that close to the main attraction of a concert. . .and he looked good.
He works his way back to the stage and finishes the concert. Wog and I are back in our seats, next to the real men in our lives. . .and they look good.
After the concert we are laughing as we leave. I am not sure our guys would have ever thought they would see their 40ish wives dashing across chairs to touch Rick Springfield.
I guess we still are "Jesse's Girls" afterall.
simple faith
Well, it is obvious that the last couple of weeks have been hectic - not much time for blogging. Too many projects and deadlines to spend much time being creative in this venue. But last Friday night was a welcomed break from the pace.
I had been looking forward to it for a couple of weeks. The radio advertising had worked. A girl listening to classic rock - an advertisement for a Rick Springfield concert - a trip down memory lane. . . . .
In our early years of dating, Rick Springfield always came to Sooner Town during my birthday month. My then 5'9" and oh-so-fine boyfriend (my now 5'9" and oh so fine husband) would take me to the concert and dinner as my birthday gift.
Upon hearing the announcement on the radio, I began pondering ways I could make attending the concert a reality in my life. I needed a partner in crime to completely convince my husband that it was worth the trip to Sooner Town during the middle of a hectic schedule. I had the perfect partner in mind - she was my kinda' girl - a former "Jesse's Girl"!
I phoned my sister-in-law, Wog. Have you heard? Do you think? She was in on the scheme.
A few phone calls later, we have tickets reserved and are both singing Rick's songs and dancing down memory lane (sigh).
The big night comes. We all arrive (sans kids) to the casino and the 1500 seat theater where the concert is happening. The casino is new and pretty - so new it has not yet obtained it's alcohol and liquor license. Bummer because I was looking forward to an Amaretto Sour.
We take our seats. Our row is filled with conversations of how young we all are and stories of trying to share our excitement of attending this concert with people who are way younger than us and have the audacity to say "Who?". Some of these younger people did not even know "Jesse's Girl"!!!
The concert soon begins. The music is good and Rick looks great! While singing "Don't Talk to Strangers" he pulls a little girl (probably 4 or 5) on to the stage. She is holding a "Rick taught me - Don't Talk to Strangers" sign and wearing a "Rick Rocks" t-shirt. Her mom was obviously a "Jesse's Girl" too!
And then it happens. Rick puts on a cordless mic and begins working his way through the crowd while singing "Human Touch". We are seated in the second section. I am convinced he will never come back that far. But he continues to work his way toward us.
I turn to Wog and ask her to warn her husband that he best move out of our way quickly if Rick comes to our section. And he continues to work his way toward us.
I turn to say, "Let's go!" but Wog has already grabbed me and we are up on the chairs, running across them in our high heeled boots. Somehow, amazingly, we make it to him as he perches himself on the wall separating the two sections. He touches Wog's hand, along with just a few others! We are in the midst of the crowd surrounding him and I dare not look at the big screens for fear that we are on them - not usually a pretty site.
Wog trades me spots. Rick smiles at me - well, maybe it was at all of us - and gives us a questioning look. He then turns. . .falls back on us. . . and my hand touches his shoulder!! GASP! I have never been that close to the main attraction of a concert. . .and he looked good.
He works his way back to the stage and finishes the concert. Wog and I are back in our seats, next to the real men in our lives. . .and they look good.
After the concert we are laughing as we leave. I am not sure our guys would have ever thought they would see their 40ish wives dashing across chairs to touch Rick Springfield.
I guess we still are "Jesse's Girls" afterall.
simple faith
Labels: fun times
Friday, March 02, 2007
The Official Weigh-In
About four and one-half years ago our super cool black cat brought home a kitten. It was a beautiful, long-haired, white kitten with black and carmel markings. He was tiny and new.
My husband takes one look at the kitty and proclaims to us all, "Nobody feed that kitten. We are not having another cat in this family!" And then he takes the youngest son and leaves for a sports practice.
The oldest son and I carry this tiny kitten through our neighborhood. Something this new was surely missed by someone. Absolutely no one claims the kitty - in fact one lady practically runs us out of her yard. So we carry the beautiful, tiny kitten back to our house. We do not feed or water it for we are always obedient (haha).
The youngest son and husband return from practice and take note that the kitten is still there. We tell our story of searching for its home. My husband takes out two bowls. He fills one with water and the other with food. The kitten has a new home and he is called Carmel.
At Carmel's first trip to the vet and official weigh-in he is a trim 10.20 pounds. Everyone says how beautiful he is.
At Carmel's next trip to the vet and official weigh-in he is growing and comes in at 15.70 pounds. The Vet Doctor comments on his weight, but is not concerned. Everyone says how beautiful and big he is.
At Carmel's next trip to the vet and official weigh-in he has become a big boy and comes in at 18.50 pounds. The Vet Doctor asks how much he eats and expresses some concern. Everyone says how big and beautiful he is.
At Carmel's trip to the vet and official weigh-in today he has become a fat cat and comes in at 20.30 pounds! The Vet Doctor asks how much he eats and puts him on a diet. Everyone says how big and beautiful he is.
simple faith
About four and one-half years ago our super cool black cat brought home a kitten. It was a beautiful, long-haired, white kitten with black and carmel markings. He was tiny and new.
My husband takes one look at the kitty and proclaims to us all, "Nobody feed that kitten. We are not having another cat in this family!" And then he takes the youngest son and leaves for a sports practice.
The oldest son and I carry this tiny kitten through our neighborhood. Something this new was surely missed by someone. Absolutely no one claims the kitty - in fact one lady practically runs us out of her yard. So we carry the beautiful, tiny kitten back to our house. We do not feed or water it for we are always obedient (haha).
The youngest son and husband return from practice and take note that the kitten is still there. We tell our story of searching for its home. My husband takes out two bowls. He fills one with water and the other with food. The kitten has a new home and he is called Carmel.
At Carmel's first trip to the vet and official weigh-in he is a trim 10.20 pounds. Everyone says how beautiful he is.
At Carmel's next trip to the vet and official weigh-in he is growing and comes in at 15.70 pounds. The Vet Doctor comments on his weight, but is not concerned. Everyone says how beautiful and big he is.
At Carmel's next trip to the vet and official weigh-in he has become a big boy and comes in at 18.50 pounds. The Vet Doctor asks how much he eats and expresses some concern. Everyone says how big and beautiful he is.
At Carmel's trip to the vet and official weigh-in today he has become a fat cat and comes in at 20.30 pounds! The Vet Doctor asks how much he eats and puts him on a diet. Everyone says how big and beautiful he is.
simple faith
Labels: Pets
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Proud Day
It was Sunday night and all four of us were in the van together. I had insisted that the radio be left on one of my stations - this particular one a classic rock station. Our boys were not thrilled. They prefer rap to our rock.
But then it happened. Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Free Bird" began to play and our boys wanted the radio louder. Then they wanted to sit in the van and listen to the entire song. Knowing how long the entire song is, I told them to turn on the oldest son's radio in his room - I have it set to that station for my own listening purposes. And they did! They came in and listened to the song, discussing the guitar work with fascination.
Now for the "rest of the story." They know this song from a video game called "Guitar Hero." Game Boy has it and he has brought it to our house. I guess I will have to concede that particular game has some merit to it!
Of course, they complained about Boston the other night at dinner. They have not completely seen the light!!
simple faith
It was Sunday night and all four of us were in the van together. I had insisted that the radio be left on one of my stations - this particular one a classic rock station. Our boys were not thrilled. They prefer rap to our rock.
But then it happened. Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Free Bird" began to play and our boys wanted the radio louder. Then they wanted to sit in the van and listen to the entire song. Knowing how long the entire song is, I told them to turn on the oldest son's radio in his room - I have it set to that station for my own listening purposes. And they did! They came in and listened to the song, discussing the guitar work with fascination.
Now for the "rest of the story." They know this song from a video game called "Guitar Hero." Game Boy has it and he has brought it to our house. I guess I will have to concede that particular game has some merit to it!
Of course, they complained about Boston the other night at dinner. They have not completely seen the light!!
simple faith
Labels: Boys
