Four Snapshots of Life This Week

1. This is one of those weeks that feels like it is going on forever. I think this is mostly because my husband worked on Saturday and Sunday, so the weekend was strange and full and busy – not normal. I can only imagine how he must feel about his never-ending week!

2. This is also the week of Olympics let-down. The Olympics are over. Can I tell you how much I enjoyed being able to watch something on TV every night that was entertaining and wholesome and inspiring? Now it’s pretty much all about the Democratic National Convention. The Opposite of entertaining, wholesome and inspiring. There’s only so much I can take of politicians.

3. In lieu of the Olympics this week I have chosen to read because fiction literature is approximately 780 times more entertaining than whatever they’re showing on television, I’ve decided.

I am suddenly finding myself immersed in books I do not want to put down, harkening back to my younger days. Yes, I was the nerd who was always reading in elementary, middle and high school. In fact, as my family can attest, I would often read two books at the same time…and while watching television. In high school I would read a book for homework any day of the year rather than do a math problem. (Well, I would probably have done a great many things including building a shelter in the Sahara using only a toothpick and fingernail clippers before doing a math problem, so that might not be the best analogy.)

Thank you to all my dear friends and family who have suggested many extraordinary reading materials.

4. Besides spending almost no time watching television, I’m also spending much less time on my home phone these days, too. We ordered Ooma equipment so we could get free home phone service (local and long distance). It seems like a really wonderful idea if you do not live half a mile away from a humongous radio station antenna.

For some reason whatever signal Ooma is using to transmit our telephone calls is the exact same signal KRLD is using to broadcast their news radio. Yes, news. That means it isn’t just some music in the background. I am forever having to hold a conversation over all the talk radio. That skill of being able to read and watch TV at the same time? I’ve lost that in my old age and most definitely cannot hold one conversation while listening to news radio at the same time. I fear the Ooma equipment is going back. No one at Ooma can help that fact that we live underneath a gigantic radio antenna.

By the way, I still recommend you try the Ooma yourself. Just don’t cancel your regular phone service (or port your number to Ooma) until you’ve set it up and tried it out. You can just return it within a month if it doesn’t work out, and you still have your other phone service. (Which we are still trying to rid ourselves of. Next option: $10 T-mobile home phone.)

Hanging in the Balance

I do not live on $800 a month and have six children.

I did not grow up in a war-torn country before coming to live in the United States.

I do not have a completely different culture and language from that of the place in which I permanently reside.

I have not spent ten, or 15, or 17 years living in a refugee camp.

I do not own only one pair of shoes.

I do not have to rely on the terribly slow American public transportation to get to my job, my church or my grocery store.

I do not live in a foreign country with the knowledge that I can never return to my home country.

I do not know the joy of depending on God for my very life.

I have not experienced life closely knit to my own extended community.

I did not grow up simply, without the accosting presence of the search for more material possessions.

I do not live in a place where dependence on other people is the norm.

I do not really know how to be completely and totally grateful everyday for clean running water.

I did not grow up in a country where really sharing and serving are just a necessary part of life.

I have not lived in a place where my faith has to be deep because it is literally a life and death choice.

I normally do not recommend comparing oneself with others. I try not to do it. When it comes down to it, everything is between you and God, with God being the only measuring stick there is. But sometimes comparison is an educational activity. And I don’t mean comparison to the rich guy down the street or the friends you graduated college with. I mean comparison with the majority of people on this earth: the ones in developing countries, the ones who didn’t go to college, and the ones who live in political chaos or in a culture much simpler than ours.

It is our experience with widows, orphans, and the extremely poor in Haiti, Mexico and the United States…it is the pictures and stories of life in Africa with chaotic governments, hunger, and AIDS that have put our life in perspective. It is these experiences and circumstances that make us feel both humble and grateful when it comes to our life. We are thankful…and we are uncomfortable…and we live in that balance. Or at least we try to.

Save the Ridgewood Branch Library!

I’m not sure I can write this post with a clear head because I’m so upset and disgusted, but I will try.

We live in an older neighborhood. We feel safe enough, and we love the low cost of living, but our area of the city is definitely not “up and coming”. With all the older homes, large trees and good-sized lots it is easy to imagine, and indeed to wish for, a neighborhood as it used to be back in the day. This could be a neighborhood where people know each other and watch out for each other and where kids play freely in the front yard.

We often bemoan the fact that every few months another building seems to be vacated, or, better yet, another payday loan business or dollar store moves in.

Well, we just discovered today that apparently the next building to be left empty and rotting will be nothing less than our community library! Oh, yes. Doesn’t this sound like the city council is trying hard to “revitalize” our community and make it more appealing to new residents?

Let’s see. The city claims it is trying to attract more retail and restaurants, but do they honestly believe retailers and restaurant owners find an area with empty buildings and dollar stores more attractive than a neighborhood with, say, other stores, a post office, and possibly a great community building like a library or a YMCA?

I believe a library is an important and perhaps integral part of the community. In an area where many do not have regular, reliable transportation our library is within easy walking distance of numerous neighborhoods. Our library is also in a prime location to offer classes, like English as a second language classes, for the community. Not to mention that I myself read quite a lot and find it spectacular that I can make quick trips to the library at least once a week because it is only a few blocks away.

According to the article we read, our little library needs almost $1 million in repairs and the city is trying to cut items out of the budget because they are $5 million short of funds. My husband deftly pointed out that he’s fairly certain they could tear down and rebuild the whole stinkin’ library for less than a million dollars in this part of town.

I would have to agree.

By the way, the other proposed budget cut mentioned in the article is the removal of two of our city fire engines.

So, while the city matches retirement funds for employees at a 2 to 1 ratio (unheard of since most companies will only match about half that amount), safety, community resources, and education are just tossed out the window.

It does not help the matter that two almost brand new city libraries (one just opened seven years ago!) recently received funding for renovations including new carpet and a “coffee vending area”. What?!? Our library is almost 35 years old. Surely those other two libraries could have waited their turn for city funding in order to update our little library just a bit.

The bottom line, I realize, is money, money, money. OK. So, raise our taxes a bit so we can keep our library and a glimmer of hope that perhaps something other than vacant buildings, dollar stores, and payday loan businesses will flood our area of town.

The next city council meeting to discuss these budget cuts will be Thursday, August 28 at 6 p.m. You can bet we will try to be there to protest.

I am full of holes.

And my arms hurt.

For various reasons I have had blood drawn numerous times in the last year or so for lab work. Apparently I have been lulled into a sense of ease and blind trust of lab technicians who draw blood after, apparently, having encountered extremely competent blood-drawing techs (they probably have a specific medical name but it alludes me at the moment and I’m too consumed with my own misfortune to look it up on Google).

Oh, I kid. Well, I have indeed had an appointment with misfortune today, but I am not consumed and therefore perfectly able to look up the information.

Phlebotomist. There. That will be the word of the day.

I know I’m not an easy person to draw blood from. Maybe it has something to do with my smallness, who knows? Like I said earlier, I have apparently been blessed over the last year with highly experienced phlebotomists who have no trouble whatsoever getting their blood samples from my arm.

Until today.

I had a regular physical exam requiring lab testing of my blood. (Also requiring me to eat nothing after midnight last night.) I begin detecting a problem when the particular phlebotomist attending to me takes about five minutes to figure out which arm she is going to try. Then after strangling my arm with the vise-like rubber band she takes another several minutes to actually start the process of sticking me with a needle.

Don’t mind me. My arm is just turning purple, but I’m fine.

No luck. After another try she asks if I’ve ever had to have blood taken out of my hand.

Immediately I start sweating and wondering if I can just ask to come back on a different day when she is not the only phlebotomist available. However, she then decides to try my other arm. (I’ve had phlebotomists try two or three times to get a vein before – obviously not recently – but I have never had to resort to a hand.)

It is at this point, after she sticks me, that I begin to pass out. The thing with passing out is, once you get to a point where you think “The room is spinning. I’m about to fall onto the floor like a rag doll” you really have no energy to speak. Fortunately the lab manager noticed my eyes rolling back in my head and I heard her tell my phlebotomist that her patient is about to pass out.

So, after being removed to a room where I could lie down with a cold paper towel on my forehead, the lab manager comes in to do the deed. And she gets it done. With no problems.

(This after asking me if I am dehydrated which I think I am not as I’ve had two bottles of water since I woke up three hours ago. The water is actually sloshing around in my empty tummy.)

I have learned three things from this:

1. Drink about a gallon of water before having blood drawn.

2. I must always from now on specifically ask the phlebotomist attending to me how much experience he or she has before they poke me, and warn them that I am a tough stick and do not wish to be an experimental pin cushion. I will have to demand that the manager with the most experience take my blood.

3. I am belatedly extraordinarily grateful for the phlebotomists I have encountered at this same lab over the past year. They are obviously wonderful, talented, and the best at their job. (Where, oh where, did they go?)

After this ordeal I had to return to my doctor’s office to get two shots (two of the many, many injections I have received in my precautionary medical care for Africa). So, my arms are sore but at least there was no passing out involved.

I have now had lunch and yet another bottle of water. I think I will survive, and can I just mention that I would get shots in my arm all day long before getting blood drawn? Which, I suppose, is a good thing seeing as this trip to Africa requires only one blood-drawing and about 10 different shots. (OK, I think the actual trip requires no blood to be drawn and only one necessary vaccine, but I live in a country where everyone errs on the side of extreme caution, an attitude which has caused me to question so much of the advice I’ve received on the topic of travel to Africa from Americans who might or might not ever have been to Africa. But that is a topic for another day.)

The Absolute Best Mac 'n' Cheese....ever.

Only eight weeks until our trip to Africa commences! I believe most of the shopping has been done. All we lack is a long jump rope which I am beginning to think we need to just order online. Maybe it’s not popular for kids to jump rope on the playground anymore because I sure cannot find any jump rope other than for a single person in the workout section of the department stores.

OK, I just looked. Jump Rope for Heart is still in existence so I know children still jump rope somewhere in this country.

Oh, and we need bubbles. For some insane reason I’m holding out for Wonder Bubbles because I’m pretty sure those are the bubbles I always used growing up, and without any other experience how do I know those other brands actually work? I haven’t found any Wonder Bubbles either, but I will continue the search.

In the mean time, I am busying myself in my free time doing things like hemming curtains, schlepping various items to multiple locations for donation, and cooking what could be the best macaroni and cheese in the world.

Beecher’s mac & cheese is still up there. It could even be a toss up between Beecher’s and this macaroni and cheese, although John assures me Beecher’s has to come in second.

I’m fairly certain this mac & cheese has about 1000 calories per ½ cup serving. With all the cheese, sticks of butter and heavy cream it’s a wonder this recipe did not originate with Paula Deen. (And now I’m laughing thinking of the spot-on imitation of Paula Deen that both my husband and sister-in-law are capable of. I myself am no good at imitating accents and my own accent is not quite southern enough to do Paula Deen justice.)

So, almost as good, this recipe came from a Southern Living magazine and originally from John’s City Diner in Birmingham, Alabama. It’s a bit time-consuming (mostly because of all the cheese-grating), but you know how I love cheese. And pasta. So, it’s really the perfect food (except for all that pesky artery-clogging saturated fat that can easily be ignored once you take the first bite).

Not Yo’ Mama’s Mac ‘n’ Cheese

1 cup Japanese breadcrumbs (panko)
1 (4-oz.) package thinly sliced prosciutto
1 (16-oz.) package penne pasta
1/2 cup butter
1 shallot, minced
1/4 cup dry white wine
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
2 cups milk
2 cups whipping cream
1 bay leaf
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground red pepper
2 (10-oz.) blocks sharp white Cheddar cheese, shredded
1 cup (4 oz.) shredded smoked Gouda
1/2 cup (2 oz.) shredded Parmesan cheese

1. Preheat oven to 400°. Bake breadcrumbs in a single layer on a baking sheet 5 to 7 minutes or until golden, stirring once after 2 1/2 minutes.

2. Cook prosciutto, in batches, in a lightly greased large skillet over medium heat 3 to 4 minutes on each side or until crisp. Drain on paper towels; crumble.

3. Prepare pasta according to package directions.

4. Meanwhile, melt butter in a Dutch oven over medium heat; add shallot, and sauté 3 minutes or until tender. Add wine, stirring to loosen particles from bottom of Dutch oven, and cook 1 minute.

5. Gradually whisk in flour until smooth; cook, whisking constantly, 2 minutes. Gradually whisk in milk and next 4 ingredients; cook, whisking constantly, 12 to 14 minutes or until mixture thickens and begins to bubble. Remove and discard bay leaf.

6. Place 4 cups (16 oz.) Cheddar cheese in a large heatproof bowl. Reserve remaining Cheddar cheese for another use. Add Gouda and Parmesan cheeses to bowl.

7. Gradually pour white sauce over cheeses, whisking until cheeses are melted and sauce is smooth.

8. Stir in pasta and prosciutto until blended. Pour into a lightly greased 13- x 9-inch baking dish; sprinkle with breadcrumbs.

9. Bake at 400° for 15 minutes or until bubbly. Serve immediately.

No-Bake Not Yo' Mama's Mac 'n' Cheese: Omit breadcrumbs. Prepare recipe as directed in Steps 2 through 6. Stir pasta, prosciutto, and cheeses into white sauce. Serve immediately.

Yield: Makes 8 to 10 servings

I’d like a happy box of easy adjustment to-go, please.

My mom and I were talking about transitions the other day. About how long it really takes our brains, not to mention our emotions, to fully adjust to a transition in life.

It can take the brain a year to adjust to a new situation or circumstance. Emotions can take longer. So, especially in our culture fast food, drive-up pharmacies, high-speed internet and even “Family Fun in Only 20 Minutes” games (where Monopoly is compressed into a 15-20 minute period), it almost seems ridiculous that a process could take a year…or more.

A year!

That’s a whole lot longer than 20 minutes.

What must our brains do when there are stretches of life filled with constant changes? Surely it happens more often than not that “normal” life simply means the unexpected will most certainly take place: deaths of loved one, moves, unexpected health problems, births, mental illness, divorce, career shifts, and marriage. In every instance, change, perhaps unexpectedly, resembles a grieving process. The very definition of transition involves losing something and moving on to something new. Sometimes maybe our brains are working so hard to accept and assimilate the new circumstance or situation, that the grieving is postponed. Other times, perhaps, the mourning of that which is lost takes over, preventing the brain from immediately figuring out how to live in the new situation.

Over the past few days it has been gloriously cool and rainy here in Texas – definitely a welcome respite from the dry, broiling temperatures we’ve endured this summer. All the darkness, the constant rain, and even the cooler temperatures (OK, not exactly as cool as it would be most of the time in the Netherlands) have reminded me so much of Amsterdam. Feelings and memories are flooding me, and I began wondering why our adventure in Amsterdam still seems so close. Why am I still grieving the move? After all, it’s been a year and a half.

I realize now that, even though my brain is fully caught up with life here in the U.S., perhaps part of me, my emotional part, is still transitioning. I no longer think it strange to drive around when I run errands. This place I live is my home again. I am accustomed to attending my church, seeing American friends, and acting and speaking like an American without second-guessing myself. But on days like today, when it’s rainy, cloudy, and cool, I almost feel a little sad thinking about our home in Amsterdam, what the view from our large windows looked like on a day like today, the way my office looked, the people I worked with in the Netherlands, even how miserable it was riding around on my bike in the rain.

Maybe that time in Amsterdam was so concentrated and strangely rich and painful all at once that certain things like rainy days, cool temperatures, riding a bike, and eating cheese will always, always remind me of living in Europe.

I am just now starting to think I can move on to the next adventure, make big decisions, and plan for the future again. Even though it seems like my life should be perfectly put back together by now, that I should be adjusted and happy all the time after being back a year and a half, I have to remind myself that transitions and adjustments do not come in the to-go variety.

If they did, I would have ordered some up about a year ago.

Family Matters

It's raining where I am, but I am not where I live.

In fact, it has been raining steadily for several hours now, and it does a soul good. I have not enjoyed a rainy day in, probably, months. Having experienced life in a place where it rains for what seems like months on end, I know for sure I do not enjoy that in the least, but a few hours of good rain every once in a while is wonderful. Let me qualify that. A few hours of good rain every once in a while when I can safely be indoors hearing and seeing the rain through windows is good for the soul. Actually being out in it, for instance while hiking, is not as relaxing.

We must be in a drought here in Texas. Water brings cleansing to the dusty sidewalks, leaves and grass. Rain is hope of refreshment, life, and growth. After a year of dryness, I myself feel like circumstances will change and new opportunities will present themselves. With the hope of a new job, reconnection with old friends, and a peace about issues that seem to be going wrong, maybe I can finally start "growing" again.

This week I am visiting my sister and sweet nephew. A visit here is not necessarily a vacation, but I get to catch up with my sister, help her out around the house, and give her a couple small breaks to do something...anything...without a one-year-old in tow. As the rain comes down outside, a break in the midst of a hot, dry Texas summer, I think maybe this week could be a break just before a bend in the road for me. After I get back to my own "normal" life I should hear something about a job, which will bring plenty of change.

I am thankful for my family and don't get to see them as much as I would like. If posts this week are few and far between, it's just because I'm busy laughing and crying with my sister, making funny noises with my nephew to see his beautiful grin, and washing loads of dishes.

A new sermon series began this morning:

I just need to point out that they chose to print "Gray Matters" in black and white.

Ironic.

Small World

Earlier in the week I had conversation with a Baylor student working in the call center (trying to persuade alumni to donate to worthy school causes). She asked if we keep up with football and basketball. I politely said something like, "Baylor football and basketball? Not really." Although, I guess technically we "keep up". It's easy to do with football; generally we hear or read that they lose...or we can just surmise that they lost and can usually be correct.

She followed up by asking if we were coming to homecoming, which is near the end of October, so I told her we would not be there this year since we are going to be in Africa. Unbelievably, this girl said, "Oh! Where are you going in Africa? You're not going to Uganda, are you? I'm from Uganda."

As a matter of fact we are. The student then told me how she came to college in the U.S. and about all the lovely things we must see while we're in her country. And I got to tell her about Compassion and how she can sponsor a child. She ended by promising that we would absolutely love Uganda and it is a beautiful place.

While I've been preparing myself for the stifling heat and tiredness that this trip is sure to bring, I sometimes lose sight of what an awesome experience it could be. After speaking to this girl, I became a bit more excited about seeing a little of Africa.

After shopping last night for some gifts for Ronald, I became even more eager to get there and finally visit this little boy whom we love and support.

Just two days ago we met a new couple in our small group. In another surprise turn of events, they are moving to....you guessed it...Uganda in the spring of next year as missionaries. Although living in Amsterdam, and not as missionaries, is a far different experience, we got to talk to them a bit about living for a long time period in a culture and place different than your home country. We promised to take lots of pictures of Uganda when we're there. The wife especially wants us to take a picture of a house...so that she can be assured people really do live in houses over there.

Of course, we will take as many pictures as humanly possible, no worries there.

Isn't it a small world?

Compassion International Uganda Sponsor Tour October 23

Ronald
Originally uploaded by john_and_erin_rogers

In the next couple of months we'll be thinking more and more about our upcoming trip to Africa. After visiting some good friends in Ghana, we'll spend 10 days or so in Uganda to visit Ronald, a child we've sponsored for three years through Compassion International. We're tagging along with a group of other sponsors, who we hope will somehow stumble upon this blog and introduce themselves to us before we rendezvous in Kampala. So, if you're going on the trip, email us and we'd love to get to know you!

There's a number of things to do before we leave. One of the most difficult tasks so far has been deciding what gifts to bring him. We've spent the last several days thinking about this and tonight we put together a tentative list:

- backpack
- football (soccer, for all the Americans out there)
- small toy airplane (he wants to be a pilot)
- socks
- soap and shampoo
- toothbrush and toothpaste
- hard candy
- bubbles
- photo album
- 2 twin sheets

Is it possible to cram enough stuff into our suitcases to prove our love for him? Could we dramatically change his situation in life (or make ourselves feel better) by stuffing that backpack with cash? We think the answers aren't really that simple, but maybe we'll help him out a little with a few practical gifts.

They say that our visit itself is by far the best gift of all. I imagine we'll receive far more from Ronald, his family, and friends than we could ever hope to give back to him.

Isn't it great that there are hardworking people in Colorado Springs helping two Texans connect with an 11 year old boy in a rural Ugandan village, and that God has allowed us to witness the steady process of lifting a million children out of poverty, one child at a time?

You'll hear more about the trip in the coming months, and about Compassion, and how you can sponsor a child yourself.

Healthy Food

A healthy breakfast
Originally uploaded by john_and_erin_rogers

Need I say anything about this photo?

OK. Of course I do.

This picture was taken one of the multiple times we visited the Safeway during our brief week-long trip to Estes Park. You can tell we were frequent customers (normally arriving in a pack of at least five) because we took to walking around the store, observing the merchandise and snapping pictures while waiting for others in the party to finish their shopping.

I can count on two fingers the number of times I was allowed to eat pop tarts for breakfast as a kid. And, come to think of it, those two times might have been at someone else's house...say, after a slumber party. And I'm pretty sure the only flavor available was strawberry...at least that flavor is a fruit.

I mean, these pop tarts aren't even trying to pretend to be healthy.

I look at this box and wonder, "Why is America the most overweight nation in the world?" Then I think, "It would almost be cheaper to just buy a package of Oreos...and probably just as healthy".

"Don't they add at least 7 vitamins and a couple minerals to almost everything anymore?"

"That can't possibly make up for the fact that these particular pop tarts are honestly just like eating dessert for breakfast, can it?"

"Why am I talking in quotes?"

The shelf is rather empty, so the cookie/dessert-for-breakfast must be pretty popular.

We're having breakfast for dinner, only it doesn't include pop tarts. Just some perfectly tasty items like Southern style biscuits, sausage, eggs, and grits (with cheese of course).

You know, healthy food.

Old Faithful

Against all laws of nature and genetics, I use a steam iron quite frequently.

I was probably thirteen before I knew what a steam iron was and how to use it. Just as I do not remember shopping for or buying clothes until well into junior high, I do not remember ever having need of an iron to correct wrinkly clothing until maybe sometime in high school. Even then the occasions to iron were few and far between.

If I could live all those years without a steam iron, then it is obviously possible to buy and wear only garments that do not wrinkle. As far as I know, my entire family can, to this day, attest to this fact.

One day I entered into married life and began living with a husband who must wear button-down, collared shirts to work everyday. For a couple years, we let the drycleaners do all the ironing. However, when more time availed itself and the cost of dry cleaning mounted, I decided to add shirt-ironing to my domestic duties.

Much to my family’s surprise, I declared late last week that my steam iron simply quit working. As far as they can tell irons should last a lifetime…safely stored in a closet somewhere awaiting the yearly ironing emergency. Mine lasted only a few years.

The clear solution was to look up steam irons in Consumer Reports at the library, discover that the last ratings were awarded in 2004, assume that the same brands might still be “best buys”, and head to Wal-Mart to purchase a new steam iron. The most expensive product offered at Wal-Mart is only $30, so we came home Friday evening with a new iron.

Imagine my surprise when my husband appeared Saturday evening after a short visit to his parent’s house with an iron, still in the box with the instructions, that he happened to find at the top of a bedroom closet. By the look of the packaging I swore the iron must have survived from the ‘80s so it can now grace us with it’s presence in the 21^st century.

My insight was correct. The copyright date on the box is 1989. Sunday morning I humored my husband and tried out the 1989 iron, sure it would be defective in some way. Against all odds, the thing still works!

I shall call it “old faithful”.

Apparently while one iron per lifetime is more than enough for members of my family, John’s family uses an iron so often that a perpetual back-up iron, stored away at the top of a closet, is a useful necessity. I briefly thought of employing this technique myself when we discovered John’s family would graciously allow us to use “old faithful” as our own at no charge. I could use the 1989 model and just keep the newly purchased item in my closet until the fateful day when “old faithful” kicks the bucket.

Needless to say, my husband prefers to return the 2008 iron to Wal-Mart and keep the $30 we shelled out in his pocket.

While my “new” steam iron is not the most stylish, I like to think it is bona fide “retro”…or is it “antique”? I am uncertain as to the age limit for those two categories. Either way, I am pleased to own such a fascinating “retro” steam iron…or such a useful “antique”.

Heat Advisory

Heard on the car radio Friday morning:

"There will be a heat advisory in effect until 7 p.m. Monday."

Ummm. While listening I was sure she was going to say "...until 7 p.m. this evening", so I was surprised to hear "Monday". That's three and a half days away!

1.) What's going to happen at 7 p.m. Monday? A cold front suddenly blows through right at that moment to cool things down to a bearable temperature?

2.) Does that mean that even at night, after the sun goes down, temperatures are still at dangerously high levels for the next three nights?!?

Today the high is supposed to reach 107 degrees farhenheit. That's 42 degrees celsius for those of you in most other countries of the world. 42 degrees! With the humidity, it might get up to 43 degrees! That's 110 farhenheit.

Yes indeed. There is a heat advisory. Take precautions. Go into your air-conditioned house and stay there.

Until 7 p.m. Monday.

I escaped with my life...and my sanity.

I dislike Babies R Us. Can anybody ever find anything in that store? Even the employees can’t find anything in the store.

Oh, the merchandise is fine (once you find it), and sales prices are good, and there are even good coupons and discounts quite often. It’s just that problems seem to ensue once I step into that store.

Today I had a Babies R Us coupon for diapers and needed to get a couple baby gifts anyway, so I prepared myself for the chaos that is Babies R Us.

I did not prepare well enough.

I should know by now that any trip to Babies R Us will involve a wait of 10 to 15 minutes, possibly 20, while an employee tries to a.) find something for me, b.) figure out the right price of an item, c.) find something for me, or d.) print the appropriate number of receipts if a gift receipt is needed.

When I walk in the store and have to wait for an employee dressed in a giant Geoffrey the Giraffe plush costume to move out of the way so I can walk down the aisle I should know the trip will not be simple.

Not only do I find Geoffrey the Giraffe in the store, but also a clown painting children’s faces, scads of employees aimlessly wandering around and stopping abruptly smack dab in the middle of the aisles (they are probably trying to find something for a poor customer), and a Chick-fil-a cow complete with a green T-shirt advertising “Eat mor chikin” being led around the store by a woman who looks like she is rather less than excited to be leading a character around Babies R Us this morning.

It is like a circus. Or a zoo. Or both.

After finding my items...finally...I make my way to the cash register thinking a little too smugly that this visit to Babies R Us might be unusually quick and easy despite the giraffe, the cow and the clown.

It is at this point that the register decides not to print my receipt. I thought of just leaving, but I like to have the gift receipt in case I buy the “Diaper Genie II special edition” refill cartridge when really the recipient has the “Diaper Genie IV ½ mom’s best friend” pail at home.

So, I wait. And wait. And wait.

Ten minutes later the girl helping me finally goes to the back of the store and returns with a computer print-out of my purchases. She signs it with “Valid for refund” and her name. I fear that asking for a gift receipt might just be asking for trouble and a further wait in a store that is becoming ever more chaotic. Lunch time is approaching and the natives…er…children are getting restless.

I quickly wheel my cart out to the parking lot just as I hear the beginnings of someone’s screaming fit, carnival music…and possibly a cow moo-ing.