Chirky

Lunch, yesterday. Notice how the delicate brown edges contrast against the bright green lettuce leaf. Yummy.

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what i know about football, by jes.

• i know about cheerleaders
• i know about half-time dance performances
• i know the football is thrown from side to side.
• i know that the real ones are made of pig skin
• i know that the guys chase after the pig ball and try to get points
• i know that when someone is injured, you get down on one knee and look towards that person, and then cheer when they get up and go off the field
• i know that they wear incredibly tight, form-fitting uniforms, and that some of those guys just SHOULDN'T be wearing them
• i know that the players spit a lot when they are on TV
• i know that the coach always seems to have a scowl on his face.
• i know that there are four sections of a football game
• i know that each is supposed to be 12 or 15 minutes. i can't remember. but it doesn't matter, because each 12 or 15 minute segment is really about 30 minutes, with all the recaps and timeouts and whatnot
• i know that one of the teams always "has" the ball
• i know that if one guy throws the ball out of bounds, no one should touch it. or something like that.
• i know where the bounds are!
• i know that a football field is 100 yards.
• i know that when a kicker kicks the ball through the goal-thing, it is 1 point. 1 point? 1 point. i think.

see? i do know about football! maybe next i will list what i know about baseball. i can actually feel your anticipation!

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Today I am camped out on Stephanie's site. She has opened a can of worms, an issue that I am passionate about, and I intend to hang out on her site today in the comments section and stay up on my soap box.

It's become a place that I'm very accustomed to being.

Not her site. The soapbox.

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I used to have incredibly bad taste in design. Since I have married, Roger is helping me educate myself in this area. He's the designer in our family.

For example, when I was younger (high school) I used to think it would be SO COOL to decorate my walls with a wallpaper. Not just any wallpaper. I was going to lovingly and painstakingly hand-make this wallpaper. Out of Tootsie Roll wrappers.

Can you imagine it? Moreover, can you imagine me spending all my free time eating Tootsie Rolls and then lining each wrapper perfectly along the walls in my room?

This is why adolescents shouldn't be interior designers. That, and it would have clashed terribly with my floral bedspread.

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This morning I walked into my closet and discovered that I had nothing to wear, meaning nothing new to wear. I stood silently staring at my clothes, wondering why it was THIS hard of a decision. I turned around and looked at Roger's side of the closet, thinking to myself how many pairs of nice slacks he has. And cute, too! If I was a boy, I would totally wear them. Or if they were made for a girl, I would totally wear them.

My mind wandered to a conversation Roger and I had this weekend about clothes and cross-dressing, and how he was saying that girls could totally get away with wearing men's clothes without anyone noticing that much, but guys can't wear women's clothes unless he wants EVERYONE to know.

It occurred to me that Roger's slacks might actually fit me, so I took a pair and tried them on, since I have a "man's body." They did fit! I was a little dismayed because I would rather be SMALLER than my husband, not the same size. Still, instant new outfit! Score!

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"Are you going to look at my belly button?"

"Mmhmm."

"I don't think there's anything in there."

"I could knit an afghan with what's in here."

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I'm searching my heart for the right words to say, and I'm drawing a blank. Most of you know how much I love my job, the work that I do, the company for which I work. Several weeks ago I learned that my division would be moving from the 6th floor to the 3rd floor. We weren't thrilled about the move, but there was nothing we could do to stop it. As of today, the move is exactly two weeks away.

Yesterday I found out that the new company (with the move, we are becoming employees of a subsidiary of the parent company for which I currently work) has decided to take away my office.

Gasp!

Yesterday I went down with my division to try to figure out what to do, where I would be, which cubicle I want to make my new home. The problem is, I can't even think. I am shocked by this decision. I will no longer have a door to shut during lunch, while on conference calls, or when talking to clients. Privacy will be a thing of the past. Confidentiality will now be a whole new issue. I won't have the space to work on acquisitions that I have in my present office. I will have to rethink how I currently do my job to make the transition as easy as possible within a cubicle. Our division was fully expecting me to continue to have an office, and now our expectations have been shot down.

We will no longer have the quiet environment in which we currently work, because we will now have to listen to the employees of this subsidiary yelling at each other from where they are sitting at their desks, or walking down the hallway shouting and looking for each other. Yesterday while looking at cubicles, we listened to them yelling, "Marco!" "Polo!" I just rolled my eyes and groaned inside. I am NOT happy about this move.

At the same time, I feel like this is such a petty issue to be upset about. I am so thankful that I HAVE a job, and at that, one that I like. I respect the attorney that I work under, and am so glad that he is moving divisions with us. Everyday, I seem to overlook the blessings that God has given me in favor of searching for what I don't have. I wish I could say the opposite was true.

I keep turning around and staring out my window, hoping to burn the image in my mind. Perhaps in my cubicle I will hang a giant painting of the outdoors, and put vertical blinds in front of it to simulate a window. And I will bring in tons of lamps to replace the natural light. And I'll definitely have to get rid of my plant. I can barely keep it alive as it is - but without sunlight? Forget it.

Maybe, in retaliation to the subsidiary, I'll hang a beaded curtain in the new "doorway" to my cubicle, just to feel like I have a door. Like, a curtain with an image of a flamingo. And it would be ghetto enough that they would give me back my office, if only to get rid of such a hideous sight.

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The videos are updated, and should now be in a format that everyone can see.

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Katie and I were both thoroughly amused by Steve's French-fry flipping skillz. So amused, in fact, that we decided to give it a try ourselves: first, with craisins; second, with apple chunks; and third, with clumps of mini-marshmallows.

It was so much fun that I think it will be the new entertainment at any party I throw. If you come over to my house, please remember to bring food that you can throw at your own face.

Also, let me apologize in advance for Katie's video recording skills (skills, with a lowercase "s"). Please feel free to contort your head and neck, or just your computer monitor, in unnatural positions for the first two clips.

First Attempt

Second Attempt

Third Attempt

This is a dual blog with KT. Click HERE to check out her site for her own videos.

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As I was sorting laundry last night, movement from a darkened area of our house caught my eye. My heart hiccupped in my chest as I jerked my head toward the movement. Realizing what I saw, I looked him in the eye and slowly started inching backward.

Roger had just left to take out the trash, and I was in the house by myself. Keeping both eyes on him I started feeling around with my hands for some sort of sharp, heavy object for my protection. All I found were dirty socks and collared shirts.

We stared at each other, and he started to move in. I screamed and rocked back on my heels, prepared to bolt out the door and into Roger's arms.

Just then, the front door opened. Either another was coming in, or Roger was coming to my rescue. I looked away from his cavernous, piercing black eyes in time to see Roger closing the front door.

"Sweeeeeetttiiiieee! Sweeetttiieeeeee!! I need your help! Hurry! Come here!" Roger sauntered over, despite my frightened state and plea for help.

"What? What is it?" He towered over where I was still squatting, in the middle of a sea of dirty laundry.

"Look! There!" I forcefully thrusted my finger and aimed toward my opponent. I lifted a black trouser sock where he had taken refuge from my menacing glare, and then I squealed when he started running across the living room.

Roger gave me a look that could have easily said, "You're such girlie scaredy-cat." Instead, he leaned over and gently scooped it into his hand, telling me, "Sweetie pie, it's just a baby bouteakey" (pronounced boo-tee'-kee, similar to a salamander, but this is the Filipino name for it).

He took it outside, allowing it to roam free with its family. When he came back in, Roger asked if I really was afraid of the baby salamander. I paused, thought about it for a moment, and discovered that I couldn't remember a time in my life when I have ever really been afraid of insects or amphibians, except snakes and certain spiders.

I told Roger, "No, not really. But doesn't it make you feel all manly and heroic to come in the house and rescue me from certain death?!?"

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Last night I had a dream about Kpinion's site. For some reason, it wasn't working, so she created a new one called "Dream Haven." I was so proud of her because she did her own design work, and Wow! She did her own design work!

Her masthead was an animated cartoon of Raggedy Ann and Andy. Except they were both girls, and one didn't have a face. So maybe it was Raggedy Ann and Andi. The faceless one had a head, but no eyes, ears, mouth, etc.

And it was like a live cartoon, which was very impressive. The dolls looked at me and told me this story:

Blank Face = BF
Raggedy Ann = RA

BF (to RA): My back itches, will you scratch it?
RA: Sure! (And begins scratching the doll's back.)
BF: Oh, that's better! Thank you!
RA: (stops scratching BF's back)
BF: Thanks for the scritches!

And then they both start laughing, laughing, laughing.

Get it? Scritches? She had itches and they were being scratched, and therefore they were scritches?

Anyway, in my dream it was really funny, and when I woke up I thought I should blog about it. But now that I've written it out, it doesn't seem that funny any more.

Like that time when I dreamed that someone told a joke about corn on the cob and green beans, and it was so funny that I woke myself up because I was laughing in my sleep.

Except now I can't think of anything funny about corn on the cob and green beans. If you know what that is, please tell me.

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Saturday morning I woke up earlier than my body wanted me to wake, and I threw on "dirty" clothes. My clothes weren't dirty, but they were the clothes that I wear when I plan on getting dirty. I drove to work and then hopped on a bus that would drop me off in front of "my" house. "My" house was the home that I was assigned to help repair with Hearts and Hammers.

I spent 5 solid hours in the hot Texas sun scraping about 15 layers of lead-based paint off of a 40+ year old home, and an additional 2 hours painting, upside-down, on a ladder. A ladder that was crooked and wobbly and frankly, it was quite scary. The whole day gave me quite an ab workout, because I had to brace myself to effectively scrape away layers and layers and layers of paint, and I also had to tighten the muscles throughout my entire body to steady myself on the ladder.

By the time I got home, I was tired, sore, sleepy, and grumpy. All day! In 100 degree heat! I drank so many fluids, and yet never had to use the bathroom because I WAS SWEATING SO PROFUSELY! And yet, I really enjoyed the work that I was doing. Except the heat. And the soreness. Because I'm a wimp!

Later that evening, my tiredness and grumpiness overtook my brain, and it resulted in arguing over something petty with my husband. I don't remember right now what it was, and Roger, don't remind me. We were supposed to go out to dinner that night with our friends, Eddie and Katie, and by the time we got there, we were both upset. I told both Eddie and Katie that Roger and I were frustrated with each other, and so I was going to be mean to Eddie and Katie, also, just to make sure I was dosing it out equally to everyone.

Eddie agreed that he would be mean to me also, and gave me his "mean" face:

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Monica does NOT look like the Bride of Chucky, aside from also having dark hair and a great complexion. Just wanted to clear that up for any unsuspecting egads that have been brain-washed by Jubal. Check it out for yourself:

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I recently got in touch with an old friend of mine, Monica. We used to be very close in high school, but we both got busy with our lives, as many people do, and a couple years after we both left for college (albeit neither of us went very far) we just dropped off each other's radar.

I remember the many nights we spent at each other's houses, the Chili's we used to frequent because the waiter had what we called "runner's legs," the many football games and roadtrips and jumping out of airplanes...Well, that was just on one roadtrip, but it happened three times! We went skydiving! In Lubbock! By ourselves! With no instructor strapped to our backs! Oh, the glee! of the wind in our faces and the thumping of our bodies against the hard ground!

One of the first times we met was in the 5th grade, right after she transferred from private to public school. She and her best friend were in a fight, and so during recess my best friend and I got in a fight just to show them how silly their fight was. Except then my best friend and I really DID get into a fight, because we took our acting THAT SERIOUSLY. So naturally, we decided to hate each other for approximately 3 more days. During that time, I became friends with Monica, and my best friend became friends with her friend. The drama!

It wasn't until we were in high school that Monica and I reconnected, though I don't recall how or why. She was so dear to me, and I loved the time that we spent together. We used to sit on the floor of her ginormous bathroom and laugh at the monstrous curling iron that we called "the steamroller," we made prank calls from her house to other people, we went to speech and debate tournaments together (wherein she would always win the debates, and I would always lose the dramas, hence she is now an attorney and I am now a drama queen), and we were each other's dates to senior prom. And my goodness, she was beautiful!

Sometimes it would make me irritated how beautiful she was, both inside and out. She was a cheerleader, and yet she was sumo-intelligent and friendly. She had a beautiful heart and a beautiful body and a beautiful mind. She was one of those people that seemed to always succeed at whatever she did.

In retrospect, high school seemed so trivial. I think about my high school and often I roll my eyes and groan at myself because of who I was in high school compared to who I could have been. Back then I thought of myself as a very friendly, outgoing person. Now, I think about the people that I pushed away rather than accepted. I wonder what I could change if I could go back and do it over again, or if I would have changed anything at all.

Although my memories of high school seem insignificant compared to other periods of my life, I know that they aren�t. Those were my formative years. Those were the years when much of who I am developed, when I learned about myself and my friends and what I wanted in a friend. It was a period of self-discovery, and persevering through that period helped me get to where I am today.

If I could go back, would I have changed anything? Maybe. But not at the cost of who I am now, or where my life has taken me.

Last night I met Monica for dinner, which was our first time to see each other in several years. She looks the same, but there is a new refinement to her, a new maturity that we only develop as we grow older and cultivate our personality through different life experiences. I learned that she is as beautiful now as she was in high school, except MORE so. Her heart is big and she is humble in so many ways, and I now wish that we had never allowed ourselves to become "too busy" to keep in touch.

Monica, I�m glad that DID get back in touch, and I�m looking forward to creating a new friendship with you!

at Roti Grill! (what? you didn't think i'd bring my camera?!?)
Monica.

This picture, really, does her no justice. Throughout dinner I kept thinking how perfect her eyebrows are. And her cute little nose. And her almost-shaped eyes. She has a very exotic look to her, and my goodness! If I were a man, and I were single, I totally would have counted this as a date and relentlessly asked her out for a second.

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Yesterday Steve asked me what a scrapbook was, and why so many girls are into it. I'm delighted to answer, Steve. Scrapbooking isn't much different than blogging. It's just in a more tangible form. Scrapbooking is simply a record of anything you want to share. I love it because I feel like it is a way that I can allow my future children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren to know what my life was all about: faith, love, and family.

At first glance, it is unassuming.

But this is not your grandmother's photo album. This is a record of Roger's and my love relationship: how we met, fell in love, and became engaged. I am still in the process of creating it, but I have carefully chosen several pages to show you.

This is the page I was working on at my scrapbooking party. It is the "title" page that introduces you to the book. I chose to use the theme of The Game of Life because Roger and I actually met playing this board game! See that big blank space in the lower right corner? Eventually there will be a picture of us there (I just haven't picked one yet.)

Close-up view of one of the board game squares.

After we had dated a couple months, Roger and I went on a camping trip with my brother and sister-in-law.

Close-up view of a very important part of this page!

A couple months later, Roger's sister visited during Roger's birthday weekend. We drove down to Fossil Rim for the day. Roger's sister freaked a beak when the giraffe wrapped its slimy black tongue all the way around her hand!

Roger and I also visited his sister in the Carolinas. *Please note that all surnames and cities have been blurred to protect the innocent.

For my 25th birthday, Roger surprised me � twice! He planned a surprise party for me at Benihana's, and also planned a scavenger hunt (in his apartment) that was CSI-themed. I l.o.v.e. CSI.

2nd half of the page, my party at Benihana's.

Close-up of the fingerprint heart.

Roger and I visited Las Vegas for his 15th high school reunion.

Full page

Corresponding page

Labor Day weekend 2003 we visited Roger's parents. If you look closely at my scrapbook party pictures, you'll notice that this is the page that my scrapbook was opened to in all of the photos that were taken of me.

One of the most fun Halloween parties I have ever been to was up in Denton. We carved pumpkins and then blew them up. Here is the full page photo.

Close-up of the picture at the top.

Close-up of the "title" with burned edges. I thought that added an extra-special touch since we were exploding the pumpkins.

Roger and I are not die-hard Lord of the Rings fans, meaning he didn't dress up like an elf and I didn't dress up like a troll. However, we did drive down to Shreveport, Louisiana to watch all three movies back-to-back when the third was released in 2003.

See? These are all great blogging stories, but they have been recorded into hardcopy format instead!!

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A link to my friend Alan's thoughts on this issue. And for the record, I agree whole-heartedly with him.

Click here.

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This weekend my husband survived The Battle of the Estrogen, an all-too-rare gathering of female minds and bodies for the purpose of being loud, girly, and eating tons of junk food.

Friday we started early with a scrapbooking party at my place. Except some (one) don't (didn't) scrapbook, so she (Holly) sat on the couch with her knitting needles and yarn and proceeded to create the world's widest scarf, worthy of a Guinness record.

The rest of us worked on our scrapbooks and chatted and watched The Princess Bride and stayed up until 3am giggling and cropping (and knitting).

The next morning, we woke up early and picked up where we left off. Before they got out of bed, I managed to snap a few pictures of the slumbering party.

JCol caught me just before I was about to snap the picture.

Aha! But I tricked her!

Sandy is so excited to be scrapbooking at my house so early in the morning!

We made enough racket to wake the dead Katie, and she joined JCol and Holly on the couch while we watched Hitch.

I am concentrating VERY HARD, what with the cutting and the sharp scissors and the lines that I must not cross.

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***

On your wedding day, I shall present you with an ice cream cone at the rehearsal dinner, just so you can demonstrate for everyone else.

Laughing (note the ridiculously shiny hair)

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When I was younger, and went on ski trips and vacations with my church youth group, anyone could always count on my mom to have snacks and sandwiches packed for the long roadtrip. She would make pita sandwiches for everyone, include fruit and rice krispy treats, cookies, brownies, and more. It always made me so proud that everyone bragged on how great her food tasted, how generous she was with her time and talents, how she provided snacks for us just to make us feel a little more loved.

Growing up, I cherished my mom's stay-at-home, more than full-time job taking care of my brother and me. Kids would come over to our house just because they knew that my mom would be there. She's an amazing, loving, strong woman!

Yesterday, keeping in line with her character, I was reminded just how incredible she is. She has been serving the hurricane refugees that have been displaced in Texas and who have found shelter in the town where she lives. Tomorrow, she is hosting several of them at her house, where they will eat homemade grub (and believe me, my momma's grub is GOOD), relax, and bum around "on the farm."

Mom told me that as she's been serving the refugees and getting to know them, her heart is just breaking more and more for them. This is not Somalia, or the Middle East. It's home. They're just regular folks, like you or me or our next door neighbor, and now they've lost everything. They're without a job, without a home, living in a hotel, with friends or family, or in the streets.

And still, they've actually said to my mom that they are constantly amazed at the friendliness and generosity of those people they have met, those people who have helped care for them in their time of need, how the entire town has rallied around them to offer support. They say that living in the Big Easy was a different way of life. People were not as friendly, as kind, as generous, as helpful as they have been here.

Last night I stayed up until 11pm baking breads and cookies to take to refugees. Most do not have refrigerators, microwaves, or stoves to cook. Breads and cookies may not be what they need nutritionally for meals, but the homemade goods will provide a bit of "luxury," a taste of something they may not otherwise get.

Tomorrow and Sunday I am going to work with the refugees and hand out the treats. Saturday I will help my mom serve those who range in age from toddlers to the elderly. Sunday I will be working at Reunion Arena, where thousands have found temporary shelter. I will not be able to offer much in comparison to the number of people in need, but I will be a shoulder to lean on, an ear to listen, a voice of God's grace in the midst of this disaster. Where is the Lord when bad things happen? He's right here, among us.

Therefore, 100% of all funds donated to this site for the ENTIRE MONTH OF SEPTEMBER will be put into action to help refugees. If you can spare any money, whether 27 cents or $10 or more, please consider donating it. If you cannot, please consider donating your time to help refugees in your neck of the woods.

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She still has a flat tummy!

12 weeks!

That tummy! It's still pretty flat! Are you sure there's a baby in there?

Ah, Baby Dillon already knows my name! And he knows how to write! Genius on board!

18 weeks!

She's DEFINITELY starting to show!

24 weeks!

Dillon is growing so quickly!

31 weeks!

Perfect bump!

A bird's eye view of the baby!

38 weeks!

Almost due! And look at that perfectly round belly! You look beautiful, Amanda!

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