Whirlwind Weekend

The drive to my sister’s is about four hours. Driving there on Saturday, even if you DO leave at six in the morning, and coming back Sunday evening makes for a pretty short visit. (Especially when I could probably stay with my nephew just to hold him and play with him for a week at a time…easy!)

Basically we sat and talked, ate, played with D, ate, watched a movie, and ate.

It was quite enjoyable.

It was also quite hot since I believe the temperatures were hovering around 102 degrees all weekend. Thankfully, my sister has a fairly new house with a great AC. In fact, as I was taking a little nap Saturday afternoon I was reveling in the cold, cold air, thinking, “I’m pretty sure our house could NEVER get this cold, even if we set the thermostat to about 60 degrees”.

I had the privilege of making D’s first birthday cake. His dietitian suggested he not have chocolate, so white cake with white icing it was.

I was determined that there must be some chocolate involved for the rest of us, so my dad went to the store and came back with “chocolate extreme” ice cream. How did he know? It’s the perfect chocolate ice cream: chocolate, chocolate fudge, peanut butter cups, nuts…I approve.

(Although, D didn’t even try to put the cake in his mouth so it could have been chocolate or strawberry or anything really.)

In fact, D was not at all sure what this whole “playing with the birthday cake” thing was all about. The way he was looking at his hands and the cake, I’m fairly certain he might end up having bad dreams about the scary birthday cake. Hopefully his young mind can just forget all about it in a matter of days.

And here’s what we decided to get our nephew for his birthday:

It’s the Bumbo Baby Seat. The packaging states that it is “The one and only product of its kind” (or something close to that). This statement is followed by the claim that it has won “international awards”. I’m not sure in what category it would be able to win an award since apparently there is nothing to compare it to as it is a “one of a kind” product, but there you have it.

In any case, D seemed to enjoy it.

Although, not quite as much as some tissue paper he found and proceeded to play with for a good 30 minutes.

Never underestimate the popularity of free “toys”.

Happy Birthday, D!

Tomorrow is my nephew’s first birthday, so I’m going to head down to see him for the first time in almost four months! That seems like forever to me since for the first seven months of D’s life I was there at least once a month if not every two or three weeks.

D was born a year ago…nearly four months early. After four months in the NICU for him and the Ronald McDonald House for my sister and brother-in-law, they all got to finally come home just before Thanksgiving.

I like to call his first year of life a miracle. He has suffered pretty severe bleeding in his brain, lived for months on end breathing with the help of a machine and eating through a tube, and had some damage to his lungs.

Through God’s grace, lots of prayers from people all over the world, and the privilege of living in a country with advanced scientific and medical knowledge, D is alive and well. He has accomplished so much over the past year.

If you saw a picture of him the day he was born and today, you’d be surprised that all these changes happened in just one year.

Here’s my “Top Ten” list of all the growing and changing D has done during his first year of life:

10. D’s lungs finished growing.
9. His brain developed.
8. D’s eyes finished forming with no problems.
7. D learned to breathe on his own.
6. He began eating all by himself. (Well, he only needs help from his mommy when it comes to holding the bottle or the spoon.)
5. D gained 14 lbs. during the last year. (When he was born he weighed a mere 1 lb. 10 oz. At his last doctor’s appointment, he weighed in at 15 lb. 11 oz!)
4. D grew a whole head full of hair and even got a haircut from his mommy.
3. He learned to roll around on the floor (and sitting by himself should be coming up soon).
2. D knows how to grab and play with his toys now.
1. He is now well-practiced in smiling, laughing, and charming everyone he meets. (He has such an amazingly happy personality for a little boy who has been through so much and still has to make a couple trips to the hospital every week for therapy.)

And just in case you haven't heard me say it a billion times before, my nephew is absolutely one of the cutest kids in the world. (I might be a bit biased...but, no, I really think I speak the truth in this case.)

I just can’t express how thankful I am to God for knitting D together and continuing to grow and develop him into such a happy, joyful, charming little boy!

Texas Summer Heat and Kitchens Do Not Go Together

A fellow blogger, Big Mama, expressed the thoughts and feelings that have been running through my head every evening for the past week or five: who can think about cooking when it's 100 degrees or more outside?

Because the summer in Texas this year has come early and is oppressive.

Can't wait to see what the thermometer will be reading come August.

My first choice for dinner is usually popsicles and/or ice cream. Fortunately the high price of dairy and my concern that my husband get some kind of vegetable in his daily diet have thus far prevented me from going with the first choice.

However, I do have an excellent option for these hot summer days that includes not only veggies, but pasta and cheese. (In my book, if it has cheese in it, it will be a hit.)

Garden Pasta Salad

1 c. Miracle Whip
1/4 c. chopped parsley
1 tsp dried basil
1 garlic clove, minced
1 8 oz. block mild cheddar cheese, cubed
2 c. broccoli flowerets, cooked
1 c. cooked tricolor corkscrew noodles (4 oz.)
2 tomatoes cut in thin wedges, or grape tomatoes
1/2 c. chopped walnuts

Combine first four ingredients. Add all other ingredients. Mix lightly. Chill.
(You can add some pieces of chicken breast meat to the salad to satisfy those family members who insist on meat at every meal, but I suggest throwing the chicken out on the grill to avoid any more heat in the kitchen.)
(Oh, and you can just pop the broccoli in the microwave for a couple minutes to cook it.)
Serves 6

It's cold, it's easy, and it has cheese. What more could you ask for?

Other than some ice cream or popsicles, that is.

"Slow Movement"

It’s an apt title for this post because I’m moving slowly today. Sometimes I think it’s a function of the summertime heat, moving and thinking slowly.

Actually, the title is from a CNN article I read yesterday: ‘Slow Movement’ wants you to ease up, chill out. Even the wording used by John Blake in writing this article takes the typical American spin on the topic of work/life balance and letting go of busyness; it’s the “right to be lazy”.

Can I just comment that “lazy” actually means resistance to work or exertion and possibly sluggishness according to the American Heritage Dictionary? It seems more like the “Slow Movement” advocates want us to save time, be more deliberate in the use of our time, and match up our time usage to our values in order to live healthier lives. I don’t think a strike on working or a life of sluggishness is at the root of the argument.

(My conclusion, by the way, is based on Edgar Cahn's comment in the article that, “The movement is about how we value things other than how fast we can consume and how much we can accumulate”.)

After living overseas I see the ridiculous American culture of busyness now in stark contrast to many European cultures.

Most American get two weeks, if any, vacation time every year, and woe to you who decide to take that two weeks of holiday all at the same time! Europeans often get four to six weeks of mandatory vacation time, and taking an entire month to travel is not uncommon.

In many European countries, even a 40-hour work week would be considered overtime; 35 is the usual number of work hours in a week. It seems Americans are gluttons for punishment working upwards of 50, sometimes close to 70, hours a week.

As this article points out, Western Europeans over 50 years of age exhibit about half the chronic illnesses that Americans display.

Now, truthfully, it is more frustrating to work with the service industry in Europe when companies, stores, and employees may or may not be there at any given time during the day or week. Patience definitely has to be a virtue.

What? You have mice overrunning your apartment? OK. We’ll be there to take care of it in three days.

Did you say there’s water flooding your toilet room? Alright. We can come take a look at it next week.

Truthfully (and I KNOW this is hard for any American to believe), you eventually get used to it. You change your expectations and the way you plan for things. You realize that everything takes twice (or five times) as long, and IT’S OK.

I know. Craziness.

Overwork all by itself is not killing us, but the chronic overwork leaves little to no time for exercise or proper sleep, and it supports a lifestyle of eating quickly and cheaply (enter: fast-food).

I’m all in favor of mandating three weeks of paid vacation and limiting compulsory overtime. Though, we need to define “compulsory” since I know an awful lot of employees who force themselves to work horrendous hours rather than just doing it because their company is demanding it. Or, in more subtle ways, companies would never force someone to work 70 hours a week, but it is impossible to do all the work piled up on them in a decent amount of time and not finishing work will result in a bad evaluation, which may eventually end with being fired.

As the Millennial generation begins their careers, I see some hope for change in the future. But, as always, I remain a little pessimistic. (There’s a good segment on Millennials below.)



Is it possible to change an entire culture?

With the Netherlands in my mind as I think about this, I wonder if a change would result in more socialistic tendencies.

Is this really what needs to, or should, happen?

In my opinion I would gladly give up the unrealistic expectations, the isolation, the stress, and the unhappiness of overwork and busyness to deal with things taking longer, needing more patience, and getting by with less stuff.

Demotivation

On Nightline the other evening there was a story about a company called "Despair, Inc." As usual, I was kind of doing three other things while "listening" to the story, so basically I do not have all the facts, but this company was started to appeal to employees who are weary of the way business is done today.

The "Despair" products are in the same vein as Dilbert® cartoons or "The Office" television show. Granted, when taken too seriously these products can be depressing and hopeless, but taken lightly some of the sayings I found on the Domotivator® posters are hilarious.

Maybe they strike me as funny because there is some truth to them (sad, but true), or I've been in situations where I think similar thoughts in my head.

Here are a few that made me and/or John laugh out loud:

Burnout: "Attitudes are contagious. Mine might kill you."

Worth: "Just because you're necessary doesn't mean you're important."

Meetings: "None of us is as dumb as all of us."

Customer Disservice: "Because we're not satisfied until you're not satisfied."

Perhaps as a leader or a manager it would be helpful to remember that many employees really do feel this way. Then we can work to make changes to, say, help our employees feel that they are worthwhile and valued. Just a thought.

Oh, and one of the posters gave us a big kick:

Underachievement: "The tallest blade of grass is the first to be cut by the lawnmower."

This saying displayed on a poster in the U.S. would be read with loads of cynicism because many Americans do really strive to be that tallest blade of grass. In the Netherlands there is an actual saying along these exact same lines that is spoken in truth and with great seriousness. It's ironic because, in the Netherlands, no one would want to be that tallest blade of grass, and rather than "underachievement" it would simply be "fitting in".

How Life is a Little Like a Piano

There must be hundreds of very worthwhile things to write about right now, but it is a bit hard for me to concentrate while our piano is being tuned.

(I should really call it John’s piano since I never play.)

For those of you who don’t know what this entails, let me explain. Basically the piano tuner hits each and every key on the piano about 93 times each while adjusting the pitch…back and forth, back and forth…until it sounds right to him. But then, a few keys later he’ll go back to one he finished two minutes ago because while he’s been tuning the next key, the previous key might have changed pitch a little. Or maybe it wasn’t quite perfect when he finished with it now that he has the other notes to compare it to.

Thankfully, the process does not usually take too long to complete because we try to keep the piano tuned on a regular basis. I remember the first time we had it tuned after returning from Amsterdam. It had been a year and a half (or more) since it had been tuned, so the piano tuner worked with it for approximately four hours to get it back into shape. (And it cost us about twice as much as it usually does.)

I think maybe I feel a little like a piano that hasn’t been tuned regularly. If I had just been on an even keel, plodding away at something…anything…over the past year, able to have a specific focus or goal, then maybe getting back into emotional and spiritual shape wouldn’t be so hard and time-consuming right now.

As it turns out, circumstances over the past year kept changing and I can't count on anything to be “normal” or “routine”. In all the chaos I kind of lose sight of goals and my focus seems scattered. So much so, that now I feel in need of a major tuning that I know will take time and be painful.

It is always easier, and momentarily cheaper, to not schedule that regular piano tuning. “It doesn’t sound that bad yet” is a common excuse.

In my life, I get used to being without focus; I get used to just getting by. Until things seem really messy and out of sync. So, to pick myself up and carry on with a focus and a goal, to step up and work hard, to figure out how to live a “routine” life in a chaotic world, is painful and may be time consuming.

Our piano tuner just told us he’s looking for a change of career, so this may be his last year of tuning pianos.

Thankfully, I think of God as my piano tuner (since I am quite certain I cannot help myself out of the chaos around me). And He never quits or retires…even when I am woefully out of tune.

The Procrastination Must End

Sophie, aka Boo Mama, has bravely made a list of house projects she wishes to tackle with the promise that she will complete said list by July 25. She is asking for some mutual accountability, so I am nervously adding my list out here for all the world to see. (We'll see if internet accountability is worth anything when it comes to house projects.)

I'm mostly nervous because, well, July 25 is only five weeks and two days away. Plus, we're going out of town on July 19, which, unfairly I might add, gives me only four weeks and two days to complete these projects.

And, to prove that the procrastination is very real in my life, I am getting this list of goals off of a piece of paper that has already been sitting next to the phone in my kitchen underneath approximately five other lists of various and sundry things for the past three months.

OK. Here are my goals:

1.) Repaint the garage shelf above the washer/dryer
2.) Clean the oven
3.) Clean the fridge
4.) Repaint the wood trim on the porches (This one really may not come to pass seeing as it requires me to be outside, I live in Texas, and it is about 100 degrees out on a regular basis now. We may have to postpone this one until the fall.)

My list is obviously not as ambitious as Sophie's, but we spent most of last year remodeling major portions of the house, so I admit I may be a little burned out and low on funds.

Feel free to join in by heading over to Sophie's blog.

Statistics Can Be Entertaining

We had a lot of fun the other day looking at the statistics for our flickr site. (That’s where we keep out photos, and there’s a link to it over on the sidebar --->). Since this blog only gets about 10 hits a day while our flickr site has received over 89,000 views, the stats for our photos are so much more entertaining than the stats for this blog.

For instance, we have records of all the search terms people have used on the popular search engines to get to our flickr site. I have compiled the top ten for your enjoyment:

10. “ferrier, haiti” (This reminds me that we do indeed have pictures posted on flickr from John’s mission trip to Haiti back in the day of the first digital camera – which explains why those pictures are tiny and fuzzy.)

9. “eurotower” (Not a memorable photo for me, but I did stand in front of it while exploring Frankfurt with a friend while our husbands were in a training meeting.)

8. “house of blues dallas” (Never been, but I would really like to attend the Gospel Sunday Brunch one day.)

7. “matisse museum” (That’s in Nice, France. Didn’t go in, just took a picture from the outside. I think the museum was closed the day I was there. Again, a picture taken while John was working.)

6. “arenas de cimiez” (It’s a grove of olive trees in Nice, France. Yet another sight-seeing tour taken while John was working.)

5. “disney world splash mountain” (You could also add any search term with “disney” in it and add it to the list. Apparently people search for images from Disney World quite frequently.)

4. “world war ii holocaust” (Our photos are specifically from Auschwitz and Birkenau.)

3. “cannabis” (We did live in Amsterdam.)

2. “neanderthal” (There’s a whole museum in Germany.)

1. “2008 ford focus” (What?!? Out of all the interesting photos we have this one search term has brought nearly 100 more people to our flickr site than any other search term! What is going on? If you’ve been reading the blog, you know all about the story of the free Ford Focus.)

I made a unique observation of search engines while looking at these statistics. It seems many more people use Yahoo as their primary search engine. I myself prefer Google, but I must be more international or cultured or something because it seems a larger majority of search terms from Google, as compared to Yahoo, are foreign language searches. Clearly the world at large prefers Google.

Or maybe a lot of our photo descriptions include foreign words because many of them were taken in a foreign country. Hmmm. I’m sure there’s some statistical, scientific way to determine this, but I am only a lowly layperson making off-the-cuff observations.

So, speaking of non-scientific observations, I would now like to share with you some of the more amusing search terms that bring people to our flickr site. Ready?

"Nick's mama" (There is, in fact, a picture of Nick’s mama on our flickr site, but I can’t imagine who would search for that exact term.)

“Valentine cake” (In the list of images that this search term brings up, ours is the drippy, obviously non-professional cake in the bunch. Oh, but it is sooooo good!)

“Thug fairy” (I believe this search will bring you to our picture of a large middle-aged man dressed up in tights, a tutu, and wings to represent the tooth fairy at a costume party.)

“Tina Napoleon Dynamite” (Obviously there’s a cult following if people are actually searching for this. And we do have a picture of a lama who could be Tina.)

“Donkeys dead” also “dead ducks” (I assure you we have no pictures of dead animals on our flickr site. I am too squeamish to stare at, much less photograph, expired animals.)

“Muddy boots” (Now there’s an exciting picture for you! And, boy, are there LOTS of them out there.)

“Food on Splendour of the Seas” (I think it’s really “Splendor”, and I can recommend the food as being pretty tasty.)

“Haiti World Hunger” (Congratulations for being interested in a worthy cause. Check it out here.)

“Santa Claus Skating” (Of course Santa’s doing this in his time off because everybody knows he’s a busy man making toys, checking his list twice, and teaching the reindeer how to fly during skating season.)

“A huge sewer system” (Yep. There’s a picture of me standing in one. No worries…it hasn’t been used as a sewer system for thousands of years. I hope.)

An Unpleasant Conversation

I knew that if I waited to post something I wrote last week the situation would change, and it has.

I had to have an unpleasant conversation with our neighbor boy last week. About the lawn.

Really I wish John had dealt with all of this and left me out of it. (It was Thursday evening, but John was at work. In truth, I AM glad that John has a job – even if he is still working there at 8 p.m. – because this means we can have a house with a lawn.) I mean, I get left out of lawn care as a rule seeing as I cannot start the weed-eater, and if my dear husband had really wanted me to mow the yard he would never have bought a manual push mower. Plus, I am so extremely watchful of getting too much sun that the whole “mowing the lawn is a good way to get a tan” concept doesn’t appeal like it might have in high school.

Anyway, circumstances led to me being the one who had to talk with the neighbor boy.

Background:
You see, John has been waiting for the neighbor boy to come of lawn-mowing age since we moved into this house. John has grand plans of teaching the boy all he knows about building a successful lawn service that might someday allow the boy to make a nice down payment on a house. John was willing to pay the boy a small amount of money in return for giving him all the expertise he might need as well as a large lawn on which to practice and hone his yard care skills.

So a couple weeks ago, the boy came around asking if he might mow our lawn this summer. The price was agreed upon, and the lawn mowing commenced. (Although, admittedly, John was hoping the boy might be eager to mow, say, ten lawns a week while the boy obviously was thinking more along the lines of two yards: his and ours. Gotta start somewhere.)

Fast-forward to Thursday evening:
Apparently the neighbor boy asked John for a raise last weekend. John might have said something like, “Well, OK” but that was before discussing it with me, after which John himself told me he wasn’t thinking clearly (maybe due to the 110-degree temperatures) and really does not want to up the price. I understand it takes this boy half a day to get our lawn done, but he also just started. He’s only done it twice. Rome wasn’t built in a day, people.

So, when the boy came by Thursday evening, I gave him the same amount I have been giving him and had to politely explain that we cannot afford to raise his salary. I think I gave all the good reasons: you just started mowing lawns, you’re using some of our equipment instead of your own, John will help you the next couple weeks, you’ll get faster with more experience, blah, blah, blah. Maybe I should have given him some cookies. Would that have assuaged my conscience? OK. Probably not.

As many times as I’ve screwed up in my life and had to make up for it, I really do not feel I have yet attained competency in resolving awkward situations or confronting people outside of the well-defined boundaries of counseling. I just don’t want to make enemies of our neighbors.

For two days after the difficult conversation, I overanalyzed everything I said and how the boy might be feeling and convinced myself that it is not a good thing to promise to pay someone more than you really want to or can pay them. (Because I can overanalyze with the best of them.)

So, the boy showed up last Saturday to mow the lawn and John got to have a talk with him. John’s conversation was somewhat easier than mine had been seeing as the boy basically fired himself. It might just not be a good fit. He doesn’t like mowing lawns (can’t blame him there), nor does he like waking up early in the morning (again, no objection from me), but this means he has to mow the lawn when it is nearly as hot as the surface of the sun thus taking him approximately twice as long as it would were heat exhaustion not a very real possibility.

We’ll still pay him to take care of the grass when we’re out of town. John spoke with the boy’s father and things seem to be amicable.

So, we still have friendly neighbors, but John’s dream of helping a youth build up a lawn business has been shattered. For now. Until we move and live next to another unsuspecting family whose son could be the next millionaire lawn service owner.

Heck. If John has to work many more 60-hour weeks he might just start another lawn service himself.

Avoiding Bodily Harm and Other Ramblings

I love my Civic.

Even though I drove 25 miles to the courthouse on Monday going 8 mph, my car still got 30 mpg. Not only am I saving some money now that gas is near $4 a gallon, but I am also quite pleased that my car is efficient in its use of resources.

Now, on to a question that has plagued me for some weeks now: Nalgene bottles.

I do not watch The Today Show, but several well-meaning friends have enlightened me to the fact that my Nalgene bottles may very well be causing me infertility, diabetes, obesity and/or breast cancer according to a Matt Lauer interview. I have pushed the questions to the back of my mind because I would rather be in denial sometimes than know the truth. However, tonight I finally decided to do the research.

Honestly, I use Nalgene bottles for multiple reasons. 1.) Before I got a camelback bag for water, the Nalgene bottle held a much larger supply of liquid than other bottles at my disposal, which comes in handy on long hikes. 2.) I know I need to be drinking lots of water everyday, so having a nice big bottle at the ready is the best way to ensure I keep drinking. 3.) Isn’t it so much better to reuse these bottles than to constantly go through all those other plastic bottles?

Oh, and 4.) I may be the only person in the world who doesn’t like bottled water, but there you have it. I prefer the tap water in most places, so I would rather drink what comes out of the faucet than what comes in the ready-made plastic bottles.

I won’t get all scientific on this blog, but suffice it to say that there is a camp of scientists who say a chemical (bisphenol A) used to make those Nalgene bottles (and other plastics with the numbers 3, 6, or 7 on them) leaches into the food or liquid in the container thus causing havoc on our human bodies. Another group of scientists declare that these findings are questionable at best. Apparently the levels of this chemical given to animals in the study is hundreds or thousands of times higher than any level of the chemical I would get by drinking water out of the Nalgene bottle.

That latter group of scientists works for the government.

And for what it’s worth, the scientist from the former group who was interviewed on The Today Show looks like he’s 18 years old. And he wore a stethoscope around his neck for the entire interview like he was trying too hard to prove his legitimacy.

Ugh. Who to believe? I hate to think I have materially damaged my body by using Nalgene bottles the past five years. I hate to just throw away five or six of those bottles that probably cost a total of $75.

I could have bought a new dress with that money!

If only I’d known the bottles were toxic.

Unless they’re not.

So maybe I will end up throwing them away anyway. According to stethoscope doctor on The Today Show, all plastics with numbers 3, 6, and 7 are out. And the others shouldn’t be reused.

Do they make steel water bottles? Are those safe?

I know glass is OK, but that would be anything but reusable in my case. I’m sure it would be miraculous if a glass bottle lasted more than 30 minutes with me…or really with anyone. Come on. Who could successfully carry a glass bottle around all day? Maybe I’ll do an experiment, just to see. That is, when I can get my hands on a glass bottle with a resealable lid.

To escape from all these questions and pressures of real life I’m now watching the fireworks at Epcot in Disney World live on ustream.tv. In case you care, they go off at 9 p.m. eastern time. This is the channel I am currently watching, but you can also check here for other live views.

Just so you know, I will probably mull over the question of water bottle usage for a good three weeks before taking any action. In the mean time, I will be utilizing drinking glasses at home and water fountains when I am out and about.

Oh, wait! I just had the genius idea of using those metal coffee mugs with lids to carry around water. Though, they’re small enough that water fountains will still be part of the routine. I will let you know how it goes.

Because I know you care deeply about this Nalgene bottle dilemma. :-)

A Tale of Traffic and Trials, But Mostly Traffic

Yesterday I performed my civic duty in the justice system for the first time in my life and showed up for jury duty.

An hour late.

Because clearly 50 minutes was not an appropriate length of time to drive from my home to just past downtown. Had I known this at 5:30 yesterday morning, I would have arisen then and begun my quest to reach the courthouse on time. I might have made it there by 8:30 in that case.

After being in my car crawling along the highway for 2 hours at an average of 4 mph it took longer than anticipated to find a parking spot because either the trial of the century was occurring this morning at the county courthouse or approximately 2000 jurors were summoned for today and all of them drove and arrived before me because the parking garage was entirely full. Seriously I was beginning to get dizzy as I wound my way up through eight levels of parking garage and snagged one of the last three spots. (It’s also a good thing my car is tiny as I squeezed between two poorly parked vehicles taking more than their fair share of room.) To my surprise, the view of downtown from the top of the courthouse parking garage is excellent, but I did not bring my camera with me to jury duty, so that picture will have to remain only a memory in my own head.

None of the work I do happens in downtown, and after this morning I will ensure that it never will. Even if they offer me a million dollars to work there, the offer will have to come complete with daily helicopter transport to downtown in order for me to consider the job. (I had a lot of time to consider this while “driving” in the car this morning. Can you call it “driving” when you are just “sitting”?)

While I did use some of my “free” time in the car to listen to the news and pray, I admit most of it was spent worrying about whether I would even make it to the courthouse TODAY and desperately wishing we lived in a smaller town. While I am mostly a city-girl, having lived most of my life in cities, I have further narrowed down the specific city size that best suits me: around 150,000 to 200,000ish is adequate and definitely less than half a million.

I discovered being an hour late for jury duty is actually just on time. When I arrived in the jury holding pen, directions were just being given and within ten minutes numbers began being called to assign pools of jurors to specific courtrooms.

The case in my courtroom was regarding prostitution, which may be why I was not asked to stay on the panel. I have some personal opinions about prostitution, having dealt with current and/or former prostitutes in ministry arenas. I have a heart for women and that is the population I generally serve as I counsel, so I admit going into a situation I might be a bit biased against men who might have been involved in some way with prostitution or really any kind of service or entertainment that degrades or disrespects women. While it really does disgust me, I was honestly not even quite this vocal during questioning, but perhaps the fact that I, along with a few other people, admitted we come in with a bias was being vocal enough. It seems the jurors chosen were the ones who had no comments, nothing to say, and were completely quiet while the lawyers talked. (I guess that’s something to remember if you really ever want to be chosen for a jury.)

Besides the whole prostitution thing, the defendant was being counseled by a young woman whom I assume was a court-appointed “attorney”, but was really a local law student practicing for the summer under the license of another lawyer. And, boy, did she go on and on about nothing and everything without ever asking any real questions to solicit information or answers from any of the jurors. This is her first case in court, and I know she is extremely nervous. I felt for her (and the defendant), but I do not know if I could have given the process the patience and focus needed to stay with her.

Another question one of the prosecuting attorneys asked was whether, for personal, moral or religious reasons, any of us was unable to sit in judgment of another person. I did not make a response, although a few people did – all of whom were, interestingly, pastors or Bible teachers of some sort. The question made me think. I quickly decided that, although I do not have ultimate judgment over anyone, and as I counsel people I consciously work very hard not to make snap judgments, our legal system is an important and necessary institution requiring judgment. After all, I believe in a definite right and wrong and would have no problem participating in the justice system we have in this country.

Maybe next time the case can be about something other than a situation involving the disrespect, degradation or abuse of women and/or children, because those issues hit my heart.

And by “next time” I seriously hope that means “in five to ten years”, and I will either be leaving my house at dark ‘o clock or planning a route that entirely avoids all highways in the area to maintain my sanity.

Or maybe the county could just move the courthouse down the street from our house. I’m flexible.

Taste the Rainbow?

This is not first-hand information, but John is much too busy to spend time writing a blog about nothing important.

I, on the other hand, gain some great pleasure in rambling on about whatever comes to mind.

WARNING: Ice Cream Skittles may sound like a genius invention, but John would like everyone to know: it is not.

If you’re craving ice cream, you probably want something cold, creamy, maybe even in a cone.

You don’t really crave something room-temperature, round, and chewy. (If this is indeed what you are craving, get some Skittles…just not the Ice Cream variety.)

At a meeting this week, John decided to try the Ice Cream Skittles because he figured he would never really pay actual money to try them. Later, he was quite relieved he achieved this candy trial for free.

His words to describe the Ice Cream Skittle: “disgusting”, “nasty”, and “gross” all in the same sentence. Clearly one of those adjectives on its own would not have sufficed.

Now, truthfully, the first flavors of ice cream I thought of when John told me there was such a thing as Ice Cream Skittles were mint chocolate chip, chocolate chip cookie dough and brownie batter. Those flavors in Skittles were not appealing. Perhaps I am not quite the ice cream purist. It turns out the Skittles flavors are a bit more ordinary: vanilla, strawberry, chocolate, orange vanilla swirl, and caramel ripple.

Maybe more ordinary, but “nasty” nonetheless, in John’s point of view. When I pressed him further about the taste of the candy, I believe he mentioned something about cardboard and old Tootsie Rolls.

In closing, John would like to advise you to save your money. If you want Skittles, stick with the normal fruit-flavored varieties. If you want ice cream, get ice cream.

Deep Questions

I hesitate to post something serious on this blog, but sometimes my random wonderings are a little deeper than at other times. If you’re not in the mood, that’s OK. Just skip today, and I can almost guarantee the unimportant and mundane will return with the next posting.

Last week a man at our church committed suicide. This man happened to be a professional counselor.

I have heard several comments about how exceptionally sad it is that this man was a counselor, who knew how to get help and deal with things in a healthy way, but his life ended like it did.

Honestly, I do not think I am any more sad than I would be had anyone else in my world ended their life. (And, obviously, I’m much less saddened than I would be had it been someone very close to me.)

Counselors are just people like everyone else. Why do pastors solicit prostitutes? Why do doctors smoke or use illegal drugs? Why do big rig drivers dart in and out of traffic like they are driving a convertible? Don’t they “know” better?

I do not write about excusing the behavior. I am simply sharing my thoughts about our perceptions of people. With knowledge comes responsibility. I know that. I realize we should expect certain things from people. And that’s where the strange balance comes in.

It’s a balance between expecting the best and living with the truth that we all mess up. No matter what someone knows, how long they went to school, how good they look on the outside, or how high a position they are in, no one is perfect.

That’s Jesus’ job: perfection.

It’s also, by the way, the reason we need forgiveness to be a gracious gift: we don’t deserve it and we can’t ever be “good enough”.

So, yeah, I will keep expecting the most of people. I believe that with God’s help amazing things happen and people are capable of making good choices. But I think it is also important to look at and understand the weakness, pain, hurt, and “screw ups” in other people’s lives, just like I should see it in my own life. Otherwise, why would we need to reach out to each other, to live in community, to seek and offer help and love? How else can I believe that we are all equal in God’s eyes, all sinners needing his grace to make things right? It also keeps me from being either too proud or feeling like I’m worse than everyone else.

We are all different. There is no way to assume what someone else feels, thinks, needs, or doesn’t need without really getting to know them.

That’s about all the serious life questions I can handle sharing with all of you at the moment. There are many more questions, and maybe I’ll feel comfortable writing about them for you all to ponder with me sometime in the future. Just not now.

In an effort to be green

So, I’m thinking of starting a compost pile in our backyard. We used to have a compost pile when I was a little girl, and we even had a garden.

Actually, one of the reasons I want to start a compost pile is because I’d like to have a garden. But first things first.

The compost pile, it is complicated.

There are various containers in which to put a pile of compost, and some things I read suggested two containers for easy transferring to facilitate the process of breaking down the materials. Then there are suggested percentages of “green” and “brown” trash, and I’m still not clear on what constitutes “green” and “brown” compost. Apparently one also needs to make sure the food particles added to the pile are hidden in the middle of the pile so that one’s backyard does not become a haven for the neighborhood dogs, cats, squirrels, raccoons, rats, and coyotes. (I’m not sure we have coyotes here in the city, but all I really care about is NOT EVER inviting the rats in or remotely near my house.) When just starting the pile, where am I supposed to hide the food items?

Some of the items on the list of “materials to add to your compost pile” make me wonder where I will find such things. Wood ashes? Manure? Seaweed? (We don’t have a fireplace – we live in Texas. We own no cattle – even though we live in Texas. We live far, far away from the ocean.) Plus, it seems a lot of bagged grass clippings and leaves will be necessary components of the compost pile. I wouldn’t say we have “a lot” of leaves in our yard…ever. And how do I tell the poor boy across the street who just began mowing our yard and is having a hard enough time motivating himself to work in our expansive yard in the heat of a Texas summer that he needs to invest in a bag for his mower and start adding grass clippings to our compost pile?

Oh wait. Well, we don’t actually have the compost pile yet. Now we’re back to the initial question: what container to use for our compost pile? Also, it might take quite some time for the refuse to become actual compost fit for using in a garden, all depending on the air flow and heat. Speaking of heat, do I really need to buy a “compost pile thermometer” to ensure my trash is cooking at the most appropriate temperature?

I sure don’t remember all this detailed instruction from my composting days in childhood, although I was probably not that bothered by composting details when I was seven years old. I remember a wooden-fenced bin and dumping kitchen scraps in every once in a while…that’s about it.

So, if any of you would like to ease my mind by informing me on the simplest way to begin a compost pile, I would much appreciate it.

In the mean time, I think I will tackle other yard adventures such as hacking down the giant ugly weed in our canna bed that my sister-in-law used to fondly refer to as “Jack and the Beanstalk” but which is now more like a medium-sized tree.

Oh, the Frugality!

This was in our city of Garland news today:

How exciting, right? A graph comparing electric provider rates for our area.

John would just like to point out that Garland Power and Light is the second cheapest company.

But we don’t use Garland Power and Light.

Nope. Guess which provider we have.

That’s right. Gexa Power Plan. (And, yes, that’s the absolute cheapest company on the chart.)

John is currently reveling in the glory of being the smartest, most frugal husband in the world. No more wondering if we got the best deal on electricity this year (and we DO switch providers on a yearly basis to always be sure to get the cheapest electricity). Here’s proof in black and white. (Or red and green. Whatever.)

Laissez les bon temps roulet.

Kind of.

(Oh. That’s “Let the good times roll” in French…or Cajun.)

(And that’s just lagniappe – “something extra” – since I’m really not writing an entire blog on the oddities of the Cajun language.)

My family, as most families are, is an interesting bunch. Relationships, history, and culture are confusing and complicated, so I will limit this post to the more understandable parts of our weekend.

My cousin got married in Baton Rouge on Saturday, so John and I drove down for the wedding. In case you’re curious, that’s a seven-hour drive from Dallas with a few stops to, you know, eat, visit the toilet, and use internet access at rest stops to send important e-mails so that Friday doesn’t really have to count for an actual vacation day. With all the driving, it was a whirlwind of a weekend.

Let me take this opportunity to sum up the wedding experience:

1. I do not see my distant relatives too often, mostly due to distance issues. The last time I saw my cousin was at my grandpa’s funeral, I think. This weekend was a great occasion to see almost everybody on my dad’s side of the family.
2. My cousins and uncle are NOT Cajun; they have just lived in the New Orleans area for a good long while, actually for the entire lives of my cousins.
3. My cousin married a girl from a good Cajun family.
4. The wedding was at The Rural Life Museum in Baton Rouge, outdoors, and it was quite pretty, but HOT. The wedding was at 3 p.m. About 6 p.m. it started feeling cooler and someone stated that the wedding should have been at 6 or 6:30. Then someone else commented that the wedding should have been in March or February. To which I added, the wedding should have been in an air-conditioned building. OK, I know. It wouldn't have been nearly as pretty in a building.
5. John learned how to correctly pronounce words like Atchafalya, Natchitoches, boudin, Pontchartrain, and crawfish.
6. John also got to hear real live people speaking Creole in the United States. He’s been to Haiti, so he’s heard the language there, but he honestly didn’t know people in South Louisiana actually speak it today.
7. The biggest glitch occurred when, during the reception, another wedding was supposed to be taking place in the gardens, so the band was asked to stop playing for 15-20 minutes out of courtesy for the other wedding. Without being told, the other ceremony started an hour late, so the band at the reception only got to play for about 45 minutes tops. At a Louisiana wedding this is a BIG glitch. Thankfully, all the major wedding dances were danced.
8. And my mom tried learning how to line dance in the brief period the band got to play.
9. Jambalaya, Smoothie King, and seafood were main staples of the weekend.
10. On a blue-sky day in June, from the inside of an air-conditioned vehicle, the bayous in Louisiana are really quite pretty.
11. I am sufficiently worn out after all the driving in a three-day time span, all the family, all the heat and humidity, and the wearing of dresses and heels.
12. It was hot and humid at the wedding. Did I mention that? Oh well, it deserves a double mention in the list, even though I was quite prepared beforehand for this possibility, er, certainty. (After several hours of the heat, mais, I want to axe for a hose pipe and a deaux deaux!)

I lived in a suburb of New Orleans for three years in high school. I am quite content not ever living there again. For some reason, the humidity, while close to what it can be in Dallas, is ever so much more oppressive. And understanding the dialect of English spoken in South Louisiana is a skill I have admittedly lost.

So, I have visited family, attended a wedding, eaten well, seen the Louisiana landscape once again, and am grateful to be home again.

Fini and merci beaucoup.