The Square Peg

Food for Thought

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Fri, 09 Nov 2012 10:57:00 +0000

I was reading some articles about motivation and exercise, and ran across this quote.

A fundamentally independent thinker understands that nothing makes a person upset, angry, or depressed; rather, what a person thinks about things determines how they feel. As Henry Ford once said, “If you think you can or you think you can’t, you’re right.” There is no motivation without this important “inner game.”

This really hit home for me because I had a conversation with someone recently in which I was verbally attacked. I got offended--my emotions took off and I got on board. And it affected me too much for too long. I let that person's words dictate my mood and attitude for several days. I don't like that about myself, and I've been working on it, but this quote was the kick I needed to put that incident in a more appropriate place--like, moving it from the windshield of my life to the rearview mirror.

I'm going to rethink the way I think about things, especially in situations like this one. Some things in life aren't avoidable, but how we respond to them is optional.

:)

Czech it out!

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 09:13:00 +0000

I am so behind! We still love living in Germany but we sure do wish some of our friends would come visit us! (Yes, that's a hint. Get your passport. Buy a plane ticket. Come visit us. We're good hosts, I promise.)

Here are some photos from our trip to Prague last October. So far, this is our favorite city to visit. We were counting on me using my broken German to get us through at restaurants but as it turns out, English is practically the second language in Prague. *Everywhere* we went, Czech, German and English were spoken.

This is what $111 looks like in Krones. 18 krones for every $1 was a sweet exchange rate. (The ONLY good exchange rate we've gotten so far.)

Prague Castle and compound on his left, Charles Bridge on his right.

Praha is what the Czechs call Prague. And this is a Praha Puppy Poop Bag. If you know me at all, you know how much I appreciate the marketing skills of the one who thought of featuring a puppy on the toilet reading the paper. LOL

Archway to the Charles Bridge

I. Love. Pistols. And I thought this display outside the Young Adult Museum was the most badass display I've ever seen. Pistols + museums? Heck, yes!!!

The church of Tyn features our favorite style of architecture.

The spire on the left represents the feminine side of the world; it's smaller and not as ornate. The right spire represents the male side. This Gothic style of architecture is very common in the Czech Republic. We bought a print of this particular church because we loved it so much. It'll be prominently featured in our guest room after it's framed.

The Astronomical clock. So cool!!!

Click here for more about the astronomical clock. It explains it better than I can (opens in a new tab).

Details of the clock tower

Side of the clock

BEER ALERT! Did you know Budweiser originated in Bohemia (now the Czech Republic) in the town of Budweis? Moose said the original tastes a lot better than what's sold in the USA.

Czech food - gulash and sliced dumplings

The Czech "farmer's breakfast" - 4 different kinds of meat and every one of them was AMAZING!

Don't ask what kind of meat it was - I don't know. And it was so good, it didn't matter. LOL

Czech Parliament

View of Prague taken from top of the Castle compound

St. Vitrus Cathedral in the castle compound

So beautiful

Close up

The statues below were so incredible in person, it gave us chills. The stone nearby explains:

"The memorial to the victims of communism is dedicated to all victims, not only those who were jailed or executed, but also those whose lives were ruined by totalitarian despotism."

Photos from our trip to Edinburgh, Scotland will be in our next post.

Ciao!

Understanding the Past

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Mon, 21 Feb 2011 06:19:00 +0000

Rhody gets more precious every day. He knows my voice when I talk to him and likes to snuggle on my chest while I pat his back. And I'm pretty sure I'm the queen of getting babies to burp because he does it every time I hold him. LOL

As I hold Rhody and smooch him, I am reminded of how my grandfather used to tell me at the beginning of my visits with him and my grandmother that they needed "hundreds and hundreds" of kisses from me while I was at their house or they were at mine. I distinctly remember one visit when I promised my Papa 100 kisses per hour. And at the top of every hour, I'd go find him and give him a hundred kisses. It made me feel so special. It was no surprise that he wanted kisses from my boys when they came along.

When they were tiny babies, Papa used to hold them and kiss all over their little faces. Then he'd pull them away from him so he could look at them, and he'd say the Hungarian equivalent of "oh, my gosh!" in his thick accented voice and then kiss them all over again. I now understand Papa's sentiments because when I'm holding little Rhody the urge to smooch that precious baby is simply irresistible. And I soo understand why he needed so many kisses because I need so many Rhody smooches before I go back home.

Peace out.

Embracing Winter

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Tue, 25 Jan 2011 09:20:00 +0000

It has been a year since we said good-bye to our boys and got on a plane to move from Georgia, USA to Germany. That long, tearful, sob-filled group hug was absolutely heart-wrenching. Ryan was 23 and Drew was 20 but despite their adult ages, they didn't want to let us go and they held on very tightly as we hugged and said all the things you say to the people you love most when you don't know when you're going to see them again. We didn't have the boys take us to the airport; instead we chose to say good-bye on the base, outside our hotel room. The Atlanta airport was nearly two hours away and I knew it would take that long for my swollen eyes and red, splotchy face to clear up (to say I look rough when I cry is putting it mildly). Saying good-bye to them was every bit as hard as I expected and simply thinking about it a year later still brings tears to my eyes.

We had 7 months to prepare for our move overseas. And while we knew we couldn't know every way our lives would change after we moved, we were very aware of the fact that our family would never be the same again. It wasn't just that we were turning a page; we were starting a new chapter, possibly even a new book in the "Miller Time Chronicles" series. There were so many questions that were yet to be answered. Questions like: would the boys be married by the time we moved back to the States? Where would they live? Would we have any grandchildren in 4 years? Would we like living in Germany? How would it feel to live in a country that doesn't have air conditioning, even though it gets well into the 90's during the summer? Would the Germans like us? What will it be like to live in a house without either of our kids?

It has been winter in our family...winter in that many things we knew before this season were going to die in a way; winter in the sense that part of our family life was going to become dormant for a season.

If I were to make a guess based on my friends' Facebook status updates, I'd say most people think winter is dark and dreary and makes them wish for the summer weather to return. A lot of people curse winter; some have even moved to Florida or Hawaii to avoid it. But given that we have to let go of some things in order to have room in our hands to receive new things, I think we should look at winter in a new way and maybe even consider welcoming it.

I enjoy winter. I love the snow and cooler temperatures. I love sleeping with the windows open and feeling the cool air around me as I'm tucked into a warm bed under a big, billowy comforter and surrounded by pillows. I seldom want to curl up in a blanket and snuggle to watch a movie in the summer (especially not in the south), but it's almost a daily desire in the winter. I love what winter brings: spicy scented candles (nobody burns a pumpkin pie candle in June); a whirlwind of seasonal decorations; hearty soups and stews; even different colored clothing and hair (have you ever noticed most winter clothes are darker and more muted in color--and that many women put blond in their hair during the summer but go dark for winter?). I love these things even though I don't necessarily want them all year long (although, after living in the south for 17 years, I'd like to experience a season other than summer from March-November!).

During the winter, things die off or become dormant: grass, flowers, plants, etc. But just because you can't see the flower's blooms, doesn't mean it's not under the surface, waiting for the right time to pop out of the ground and beautify your life again.

A few months after we left Georgia, we found out both boys would be making us grandparents just before spring arrives. Rhody and Emma are the newest bulbs in the Miller family garden. Some of the answers to our questions are growing and being answered much sooner than we expected. LOL Others are still a mystery.

Winter can be cold and hard, but winter is like challenging seasons in our lives; it precedes spring. Spring brings new life, new hope, and new promises. But you can't have spring without going through winter first. Some winters are mild, some are extreme. But don't curse the cold or get discouraged by the dormancy of the season; hang in there and try to enjoy the unique comforts of the winter. And even if this spring isn't exactly like last spring, that doesn't mean it won't be amazing.

Embrace winter.

This post is part of the One Word at a Time blog carnival. Please go to Peter's page to read more entries and to submit one of your own.

milestones & maintenance

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Mon, 20 Dec 2010 17:43:00 +0000

I have finished my first term of college. I enjoyed the challenge (most of the time) and was intrigued by the subjects all the time. I took Elementary German and Intro to Psychology. I chose German because I knew it would benefit me while living here and because it met a requirement. I chose Psych because it's my major (I'm pretty sure I want to be a marriage/family therapist when I grow up) and knew the subject would pique my interest and confirm my vocational choice, or help me to realize I want to do something else.

I had a wonderful psych professor and her passion for the subject was clearly evident. Many days it seemed she had to pull herself back to keep from telling us more than we were ready for. The "science-y" subjects (the brain and how it works, neural impulses, vision, etc.) were interesting but the last few chapters were flat out fascinating to me. Those chapters were about personality, psychological disorders, therapies and social psychology. I wish we could've done them first and spent more time on them. The course covered many subjects that have interested me for years; things like social norms, collective cultures and how they compare to our individualistic culture, sexual orientations, critical thinking, and prejudice and discrimination.

I did very well on the first exam but quickly realized that keeping my newly earned A was harder than getting it. There were times I was tired of studying and memorizing and just wanted to relax. Spring fever hit about two weeks before the term ended and I realized the temptation for us to let our guard down (even if only a little) crosses into many areas of our lives.

We want something and we're willing to work to get it (good grade, girlfriend or boyfriend, spouse, different job, position, responsibility, new house), but pretty soon the new/excitement/glamor wears off and we realize just how much it takes to maintain what we've acquired. We don't really want to let ourselves (or anybody else) down but we're weary, sometimes even discouraged. And it's here that we have to encourage ourselves to stay focused on our goal and its priority. It's here the content of our character rises to the top and is unable to be washed over with our fancy words or efforts to deny it and present ourselves in the best light. And therein lies the struggle. In psychology, there's a theory known as the cognitive dissonance theory. We feel discomfort when our attitudes and behaviors aren't consistent, so we either change our behavior or we change our attitude. It's generally easier to change our attitude in an effort to make our behavior seem justifiable but deep down we know that's not OK. Its understandable, but it's not OK.

When you find yourself in that place...the place where you want to slow down, quit, rest, give up, or are just tempted to lose hope and give a little less than your best; don't. Don't decide it's not worth the effort. Don't decide to fudge a little. Don't choose to change your attitude toward what you're working for and assign it less value. Keep on keeping on, even if you're baby-stepping your way toward your goal. Why? Because finishing well is rewarding, not to mention empowering. And because regrets are hard to live with.

Talent may get you there but character keeps you there.

Higher learning

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Mon, 01 Nov 2010 22:18:00 +0000

ROUND ONE!
When we found out we were moving to Germany, I knew big changes were coming. I knew our family would never be the same again; not in a bad way, just that major evolutionary changes were on the horizon. Little did I know, nearly ten months (at the time of this writing) and two grandbabies on their way later, and voila! The changes are here!

ROUND TWO!
I'm making my way around yet another corner. That's right, you're about to witness my foray into the world of higher education. After a 25 year hiatus.

I'm taking two classes this term: German and Intro to Psych. I need a foreign language credit, so why not now? It'll help me navigate my way through Germany as well as meet a requirement for my degree. I love efficiency. I chose to take Psych because it's a subject I'm interested in.

Today was a day of firsts. The first day of the week. The first day of the month. My first day of college(!). The first time I sat in a classroom and *didn't* have to spell, pronounce or otherwise clarify my last name to a teacher. (Last time I was in school, my surname was McElyea. It wasn't a bad last name, but let's be real: you write Miller and there's no question as to how it's pronounced. Ah, it's the little things in life...LOL)

I like my professor. Her expertise and experience are quite impressive. And I realized that my life isn't going to be the same again. Starting today, and continuing for a long, long time, I will be a student. Hello, homework; goodbye, life!

I feel about going to college the same way I felt about moving to Germany: I am excited about the new opportunity, nervous about the unknown, and keenly aware that things will never be the same again. That's not to say they won't be good. But I hope I embrace the opportunity to further my education as easily and with as much zeal as I have embraced the incredible opportunity to live in Europe.

Stay tuned.

It's Miller Time!

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 23:39:00 +0000

Well, I hadn't figured out how I was going to post my announcement before another post-worthy announcement came along. As often happens in our family, we have to start our story with "see, what had happened was..."

When Moose and I were in Pisa last month, I saw a cute toddler-sized t-shirt at one of the souvenir stands. The thought occurred to me that someday we'll have grandchildren and it'd be really cool if we bought things for them while we're in Europe...starting with a red t-shirt (suitable for a boy or girl) with a picture of Snoopy and Woodstock trying to straighten the leaning tower with Italian and American writing on it. After debating it the first two days I was there, I could not shake the feeling that I needed to get a t-shirt. I knew I'd regret it if I didn't. My thought was that the first grandchild could wear it and pass it along to the others. I planned to post a picture of the shirt on here but accidentally included it in the package I sent to the boys. I've been waiting for Drew to take a pic of the shirt and email it to me so I could include it in my Pisa post and photos.

But apparently I had my ESPN turned on because Drew's girlfriend Ciera is pregnant. She's due late February/early March, so I decided to call the baby Love Bug until/if we find out which variety of grandbaby we're getting. They tried to say I jinxed them by buying that t-shirt, but after doing the math, they were already pregnant when I bought the shirt. Ha! Finally something that can't be blamed on me! LOL

And tonight I got a text from Ryan. Here's how the convo went down:
Ryan: mom
me: Yes?
Ryan: wanna hear something funny?
me: Yep
Ryan: drew's gonna be an uncle

Yes, we are expecting TWO grandbabies in the spring.

My boys have always referred to themselves as 'the first two punks'; after seeing all the adorable girl clothing and shoes (and accessories) in the stores, here's hoping one of those mini-punks is a punkette.

I had formulated a blog post in my head that consisted of writing to Love Bug to proclaim my love and excitement over his/her existence. But now I have another love bug to write to/about but I don't have an appropriate nickname for him/her. We used to call the boys Thing 1 and Thing 2 (from the Dr. Seuss books), and Moose suggested calling the babies Thing 1 and 2 after their dads, but since Thing 2 is having Grand Thing 1, and Thing 1 is having Grand Thing 2, I think that'd be too confusing.

But what has been decided are our grandparent names. He's Papa Moose and I'm GeeGee. Or should I spell it GG? Or GiGi? Anyway, there you have it. Our babies are having babies. And although their circumstances aren't ideal, we are very excited about these precious gifts.

tongues, tulips and ta-tas

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Fri, 14 May 2010 16:24:00 +0000

Well, well, well, today's 5 Question Friday questions are just as diverse as last week's. I like diversity. It keeps me on my toes.

1. Take your pick...date night, girls night out, or night out alone?

Date night with Moose or some good, ol' girl time, depending on which I've been lacking at the time. Don't get me wrong, I love my alone time. If I don't get enough, I get really twitchy; but going out for a night alone just seems weird.

2. Can you touch your nose with your tongue? Why would I want to; who wants a wet nose? I do flip my tongue around in my mouth freakishly fast though, and I can tie a cherry stem in a knot using just my tongue, but I have yet to discover when either of those skills would be necessary or useful. Nope, nothing McGyver or Jason Bourne-like in this body. Stupid, useless non-life-saving, non-terrorist-thwarting tongue skills.

3. What is your favorite flower and why? Tulips...they're unique, beautiful, come in a rainbow of colors, have perfect posture, and cannot be taken for granted because their 'bloom time' window is a small one.

4. If you could go back in time, what advice would you give yourself?

1) Always trust your gut and don't give in to pressure; not even from people who love you.

2) Be very choosy about who gets your emotions and your time...those people influence you more than you realize.

3) Never take your husband for granted or put him on the back burner.

4) Enjoy your kid while he's little; play more, lecture less. Make sure he knows you love him no matter what.

5) Take care of your body. Be your own health care advocate.

5. If you won the lottery, what is the very first thing you would do? So many things come to mind, like, pee my pants, scream and jump for joy, call my Mom, go pick up the check, etc. But after that stuff's all said and done and the money is in the bank, what I'd actually do is write checks to the schools my boys want to go to and get them set up for that.

And I know you want to know what else I'd do with the money, so I'll go ahead and tell you the next few things on my mental 'lottery money' list. I'd write checks to a few charities, set up secure accounts for our future, the kids and other family members, and plan a couple of big trips...one for Moose and me to the private island we've dreamed about visiting for several years now, and one to take the whole family on a nice cruise. And then I'd get my boobs lifted. 'Cause I'd want the girls to look extra nice for that private island trip. Don't judge me; I'm just keepin' it real.

Happy Friday! :D

The blood, the blame, and the butt crack...

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Fri, 07 May 2010 14:51:00 +0000

Wow, it's been such a busy, fast-paced week, I almost forgot about Five Question Friday! Our travel passports came in on Monday, and I promptly booked us on a tour to Amsterdam, Holland. We leave tonight (technically, tomorrow morning). I'll be sure to tell you all about it when I get back, but now it's time for the May 7th edition of Five Question Friday.

1. What is your worst memory of your siblings?

My step-siblings and I weren't raised together (and there's a decent gap between our ages), so there are no bad memories.

2. What was YOUR naughtiest childhood memory? (Must be something YOU did, no pawning it off on someone else!)
There were so many to choose from it was hard to pick one, but I finally managed.

When I was about 8 or 9, I was getting ready to take a bath and I decided to shave my legs. I didn't know how much pressure to use when holding the razor, and ended up cutting the front of my leg from just above my ankle to a little below the knee. I'm pretty sure if records were kept for 'Most Flesh Removed With Only One Swipe Of A Razor', I'd be the record holder.

When I saw the blood begin to pool up to the surface, my natural reaction was to lower my leg into the water to make the blood disappear. But sticking my leg in the water only made the cut sting and, of course, the blood wasn't going to stop for a few minutes. I started yelling and crying and when Dad came in the bathroom to see what was going on, I told him Mom's razor fell into the bathtub and cut my leg. He started fussing at her real good about being so careless but after I was all dried off and cleaned up, they took a good look at my legs and discovered that one of them was completely hair-free. Yeah, they didn't believe the razor fell in the water and shaved one leg before cutting the other. I wonder why?? :)

More than 30 years later, I still have a place on my leg that's lighter in color than the rest. And it still makes me wince to think about that cut that day. *shudders*

3. Where do you like to go to relax?
I don't like the ocean that much; something about getting sand in my car, my hair and my butt crack just irritates me to no end. The beach is not so fun that I want to carry it with me for the next several days (in the car), or spend half an hour rinsing it off my scalp or out of...never mind. But lying on a float in the pool and soaking up some rays relaxes me like little else can, especially when it's quiet and I can hear the birds singing and talking to whomever cares to listen. It's here that my problems become smaller and God becomes bigger. Here is where I slow my roll long enough to catch my breath and enjoy the beauty of creation. And this is where I get the most clarity regarding life and faith, as well as the refreshment I need to feel charged up enough to get back to reality.

4. What was the last thing you won?
I don't know if it was the last thing I won, but I won the squadron chili cook-off when we lived in Georgia the first time. I got a certificate and Moose got a day off work.

5. If you could be on a game show, which would you choose?
Debt. Does anybody remember that show? I don't think it was on long but I liked it because if you made it to the final round, you could pick any TV show or movie you wanted to be asked a question about. And since the amount of your debt was the amount you'd win, I knew I'd be debt free by the end of the show. I always said I'd pick the TV show Friends because, to borrow a phrase from Forrest Gump, I know everything there is to know about Friends. I've seen all the episodes at least once and watch the reruns when they're on. Well, I used to, anyway. I don't watch any regular TV here in Germany; any TV I watch is off the internet. Thank God for Hulu. Friends was the show I could count on to make me laugh and forget everything around me for 30 minutes at a time. Well, except for the season Rachel was pregnant. That season was flat out stupid. My favorite episode? When they had the 'game show' to see whether the guys knew the girls better or vice versa, and the girls bet (and subsequently lost) their apartment.

If you have a blog, would you consider jumping in and joining us for 5QF? The links are below. If you don't have a blog, will you post your answers to the questions in the comment section? I'd love to read your story. :)

I'm off to be sure I've got the camera in my backpack. Can't go see all those beautiful flowers without a camera to capture some of their beauty for my scrapbook, right?

Peace out.

Eva

Blog Carnival - Joy

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Tue, 04 May 2010 09:31:00 +0000

Today's post is part of a community blog carnival. If you'd like to post an entry, link your post back to Bridget's site by clicking here.

Where does joy come from? Is it something you stumble across when wandering aimlessly or can you plug its address into your gps and go find its locale? Is there a Joy Jackpot that some lucky people manage to hit? Does it come and go like a shooting star, suddenly and without any warning?

I think joy is intentional. I also think it's related to peace, as well as happiness.

Joy is intentional.
There are a million reasons to become upset, hurt, angry, bitter, and depressed in life. People will spitefully use you, maliciously hurt you, take advantage of you, and sometimes even blame you for their own self-destruction. Money won't always be your BFF; neither will your health. And possibly not even a job.

But you can intentionally seek reasons to be joyful.

Christians are supposed to have a hope in Christ, but I know some atheist, agnostic, and humanist friends who are more hopeful during trying times than some of the Christians I know. And we all know someone who is negative about everything, no matter what's going on in his life. You know who I'm talking about: the person you're afraid to ask how things are going because you know he's actually going to tell you. I know a woman who is so negative, that on the occasions when I bump into her, I walk away feeling verbally assaulted with all of her negativity and dissatisfaction with everything around her. And to make it worse, she's a topper. So if she's having it bad, her bad is worse than any bad anyone else has ever had. And her great times are superior to everyone else's as well, although they're few and far in between. It's hard for me to be any kind of friend to this gal because it doesn't seem like she wants to be happy, and I'm a fixer by nature.

Joy is related to peace.
Intentionally looking for reasons to be joyful often brings me around to re-examining my core beliefs and ultimately, I find peace.

I am an eternally optimist person. One of my deeply held beliefs is that things work out well in the end. When things aren't looking good, I'm convinced it's not the end. I'm still sitting in my seat, waiting for the fat lady to sing.

I've navigated my fair share of life's hardships. And I can honestly tell you that through all of them, I have believed that some how, some way, at some point, things will make sense and they'll work out for the best. Now, that 'best' isn't always what I thought was best, but I've always been able to look back on a situation or season after it was over and see that what it ended up looking like was indeed, for the best. Including the two-month marriage to my physically abusive ex-husband, as well as the ensuing two years it took me to legally get him out of my life. It was a pretty rough season in my life, but when I look back on that tumultuous time, I can definitively say I never felt alone. And that's a peace that brings joy.

Joy is related to happiness.

It's hard to stay cranky and bitter when you trust the One who says He loves you and has you in the palm of His hand. I personally believe God loves us simply because we exist. After all, that's why I love my kids. My love for them never hinges on their behavior and I expect God is the same. When I find that I'm having a pretty easy time gettin my grumpy on, it's usually because I'm not confident that God is still on the throne. Thinking I'm here alone feeling lost and abandoned makes me do crazy, desperate things. But stopping to catch my breath, and remembering the things I've already experienced relating to God's character, usually brings the proverbial cold water splash to the face that snaps me back to a reality of confident knowledge. And that leads to happiness because I am able to intentionally find some joy in life.

Let's take off that Garment of Grumpiness and go find some joy. Cause our Daddy loves us like no other and despite how we might "feel", that actually means something. And let's not trust our emotions all the time; they have a tendency to take off and when they do, we don't want to be on board.

Eva

Boundaries

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Wed, 28 Apr 2010 23:55:00 +0000

There once was a woman who was sitting in her kitchen with a guest, chatting and sippin' on iced, sweet tea. After a while, the hostess suddenly smacked her guest on back of the hand. The guest began to howl claims of disbelief and pain. She went home, wailing to anyone who would listen about what a terrible person the hostess was.
The end.

Sucky story, huh? I thought so, too.

At first, it's easy to think wow, that hostess is something else.

But shouldn't we instead wonder:
Why did the hostess smack her guest's hand?
What did the guest *do* to warrant getting smacked?
I think we should.

The "no boundary = no fault" attitude that's becoming increasingly prevalent really gets my panties in a bunch more than almost anything else I can think of. More than I can tolerate without speaking up. This isn't about a specific person or situation; I'm talking about an entitlement mentality that's making its way across the planet. And it's destroying relationships in its wake.

People who are generally without boundaries in their life often have something in common with one another (aside from the 'no boundaries' philosophy): they rarely have any fault or morsel of responsibility in all previously failed or strained relationships, be they of the marriage, parenting or friendship type.

Coincidence?

I don't think so.

I think this happens because they'd rather hide behind a false pretense than face their weaknesses, insecurities or admit their own lack of integrity.

I think some of them think it's about who did more 'wrong' in a specific situation. But it's not. It's actually about owning 100% of your part...even if that part is only 2%. Because if you deny your 2%, it gets magnified. Truth won't be mocked; it always comes out.

A person's lack of boundaries does not entitle him or her to do or say whatever he or she wants without suffering consequences. If I invite a gal over to my house for dinner, she doesn't just get to help herself to the cookies in the jar on the counter. (I'm speaking metaphorically, of course; we all know I detest baking...if I even *had* a cookie jar, it'd probably contain individually wrapped Oatmeal Creme Pies.)

There are two ways to handle a situation like this. One way is to ignore it and hope it goes away on its own. This isn't really a viable option because it leaves the ignorer feeling disrespected while the offender remains ignorant.

The second way to handle it is to care enough to confront. While it might really suck to have to talk about something that could hurt feelings or cause moments of awkwardness, it solves a couple things in the long run. Either the offender will find someone else's space to invade and assault (and is thereby no longer your problem), or you will cause the offender to rethink her behavior, and provide her with an opportunity for much-needed growth.

I will most certainly (albeit metaphorically) smack the back of her hand. And if she feigns shock and awe when I call her on it and put her back in her place, I'm OK with that. Unbalanced relationships with unrealistic expectations aren't something I'm interested in being a part of. Most other people aren't, either, from the data I've gathered.

If you confront and lose a relationship, so be it. But you have to be your own advocate if you want your boundaries respected and maintained. If good fences make good neighbors, then boundaries make good relationships.

Give some thought to yours.

Trained and Aimed

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Thu, 18 Mar 2010 02:00:00 +0000

There are a few topics I've been planning to write about and mentoring is one of them, but I wasn't sure how I wanted to broach the subject. The church we've been visiting has a Bible study for women and I accepted the invitation to participate even before I knew the subject of this session's study. I was pretty excited because mentoring is a huge passion of mine. Since we've been discussing it the last few weeks, it seems that now is the time to share some of my thoughts about mentoring.

It's easy to feel alone on our journey through life, and being able to talk to someone who has gone before you is not only comforting, it can be helpful if they're willing to share what they've learned along the way. But you have to be willing to be open, and maybe even change a belief or two. Or twelve.

Most people have a mentor whether they're aware of it or not. Mentors aren't necessarily all-encompassing on life's issues. Many times a mentor is simply a guide for a particular area or season. Some women have mentored me in the area of parenting, others have been mentors for my role as a wife, and others mentored me when I was homeschooling our boys. At one point, I had a mentor who sat down with me each week and asked me several accountability questions, in addition to letting me ask her questions I had about life and faith. I even had a grandparent mentor in Georgia. Moose and I were privy to be friends with a very wise couple whose relationship with their children and grandchildren we *deeply* admire. We took good mental notes and will intentionally imitate some of the things we watched them do with the express hope of reaping some of the results that manifested in their lives/relationships with their kids and grands.

Who is a mentor? Anyone you ever go to for advice or opinion is a type of mentor to you. Obviously you think they may know or see something you don't, otherwise you wouldn't seek them out, right? But do the people you go to for advice propel you forward?

Training is at the core of mentoring/discipleship, so as a parent, I mentored my boys even though they didn't always want or accept my training, leading, guiding or instruction/advice. Ryan has told me several times that he realizes how right I've been about many of the things I've told him through the years. He's also told me how really annoying this is to him. LOL. Sidebar: I don't understand why he can't embrace and appreciate the fact that his mom knows a thing or two about life that can help him avoid potential heartache and pitfalls. I mean, there's no point in both of us paying for therapy, RIGHT?! Anyway...

Since everybody goes to somebody for advice, my question is: what qualifies a person to be your mentor? Are her kids older than yours and you know her mom-experience will give you new tools to use when training your own kids? Does he have a really solid relationship with his wife and you have a desire to fortify your own marriage? Has she been in an abusive relationship so she's able to understand your struggle to break free from a destructive association and move forward without any shackles? Does she have confidence you wish you had and you want to know where it comes from? Has he taken a strong stand that came with a high price, such as losing his job, or the acceptance of his friends? Or do you seek advice from anybody who'll lend you their ear? It's been said "more is caught than taught". Think about what you've caught and ask yourself if you need to make a more concerted effort to be trained and aimed. Training is the act of intentionally teaching knowledge and practical how-to; being aimed is about learning to use your powers for good.

If you've shied away from being a mentor because you don't think you're qualified, think again. If you've ever opened your mouth to give an opinion or advice, you obviously felt qualified. (Hopefully if you knew you weren't, you kept your lip zipped. hee hee) Mentoring isn't about bossing somebody around or telling them how to run their life. Sometimes asking questions so the other person can evaluate things and draw their own conclusions does as much to train, teach, guide and lead than any amount of blatant instruction can do.

So to sum up:
Having a mentor is beneficial.
Don't be stingy, be a sieve; share what you've learned (from life and your mentor) with someone else.
Be discreet. Everybody needs a safety zone. And nobody likes a blabbermouth.
Withhold judgment. People need a soft place to fall.

I'll share more thoughts as the study progresses.

By chance can any of you tell me why the itch to write hits me at 1 am? What's up with that? I prefer that writer's block hit me during the hours of 11pm-7am. Can I work out a trade? :D

Duck and keep going

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 08:53:00 +0000

Patience is a great character trait to possess. I've personally never been accused of having any. LOL

But there is a type of patience that doesn't have quite as much to do with different personality bends, tendencies or temperaments. I'm referring to the patience that carries our faith during rough times, and to be honest, I think we need to shift some of our focus toward developing this fruit of the spirit within ourselves.

When we're in dire straits, it's tempting to think God has stopped caring about us, abandoned and forgotten us. And the reason we think those things is because we assume (and often consequently believe) He's like us and gets annoyed with us like we do with each other and ourselves. I've said it before and I'll say it again: God's love isn't like our love. And if we'd get a strong grasp on the reality that God's love for us is pure and without blemish or imperfections, not to mention unconditional, we'd be different people. Less insecure, greedy, and angry; more generous, forgiving, and merciful. Because when we believe there's plenty to go around, we're more apt to be a conduit than a dam.

But what about the development of our faith? Do we want to be solid, unwavering followers of Christ whose belief and understanding of the character of God serves as a steadfast anchor that carries our faith to the other side of tough situations, confusing circumstances and challenges? And if our answer is yes, what do we think it takes to arrive at that kind of faith?

Finish this sentence: "when the going gets tough, the tough _______________." How we finish the sentence is what separates the men from the boys. This is where the rubber meets the road. Now my theories and beliefs aren't pie-in-the-sky anymore; they're ham-where-I-am. It's here we discover whether we've got big girl panties on or if we need a diaper change. And it's OK if we need a diaper change; diapers are necessary for a season. But do we want to stay in diapers forever? Do we really want to have somebody else cleaning us off or do we want to mature, become a little more independent, and go forward on our own?

If we want to continue growing, how do we develop this kind of patience that perseveres through the dark times? You're not going to like my answer. By going through it. Joyce Meyer said it best: "You've got to go through to get through; there are no drive-thru breakthroughs."

I don't think God needs any more weekend warriors; I think He needs some folks who are willing to dot their I's and cross their T's, some folks who are willing to get a Wal-Mart spanking if that's what it takes to bring Him glory, some folks who are willing to work through things instead of just curling up in the fetal position and checking out of life (even though that's what we all want to do).

Joseph (coat of many colors Joseph) didn't have a dream about ruling over Egypt one night and wake up with that authority the next morning. David wasn't anointed on Friday and and then turn around and plant his blessed assurance on the throne first thing Monday morning. There was some stuff that happened between dreaming about ruling and actually ruling. Some really awful, unfair, heart-breaking kind of stuff. And like Joseph, David faced some serious opposition after being anointed King and before taking over the throne. In fact, David was living in the King's palace when the current King tried to kill him by throwing his spear at him--more than once--knowing David was already chosen by God to be king!

I propose that when spears are being tossed our way, we gather up the guts to employ David's response to the king's attempts to snuff out his life: duck and keep going. Or take Joseph's stand and choose to serve the people around us even though unfair circumstances took us to a place we never deserved or wanted. And when the people we served forget about us after we've been instrumental in helping them gain their freedom (and they will), let's not stop to point out the injustice of the situation, complain to the Manager, go on strike, plot revenge, cop a bad attitude or justify our bitterness as a proper response to the situation. Let's go back to serving the people around us and stay on course because in the end, we really want to be found faithful. Other people don't answer for us and we don't answer for them.

When I think about the people I admire most, the people whom I consider to be strong, wise, and who possess the fortitude to face hard times with confidence in God without wavering in their faith, their common denominator is that they're people who've been through the wringer and came out better for having let patience carry their faith to the other side. They didn't give up. They didn't give in. They didn't succumb to apathy. Neither should I. And neither should you.

Stand strong.

*********
You can read more entries on today's blog carnival topic here.

The enemy of peace

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 06:09:00 +0000

The peace sign is often associated with the 70s and/or hippies, but peace isn't just some hippie ideal. At least, it shouldn't be. People try to manufacture peace, either for themselves or for others. Info-mercials promise better rest, better air quality, more money, a better body, etc, so we can have peaceful lives. Politicians promise to change the government, laws, and administration so we can have peace in the world. But you and I both know synthetic peace is a poor substitute for the real thing. Besides, you can't give what you don't have.

Peace doesn't mean lack of noise, war, hatred, etc. We'll never eradicate those things from this world, but does that mean we shouldn't pursue/promote it? In the words of Balki Bartokomous: "Of course not, don't be ridiculous." Should we consider a paradigm shift regarding peace and its role in our lives? Absolutely.

I believe the real thing should and can reside within us.

In John 14 (the message), Jesus said:

I'm leaving you well and whole. That's my parting gift to you. Peace. I don't leave you the way you're used to being left—feeling abandoned, bereft. So don't be upset. Don't be distraught.

The NIV reads this way:
But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. ²⁷Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

I used to spend a lot of time worrying. And I was good at it, too; I not only worried about the stuff I couldn't control, I worried about the stuff I could control. But the more I read my Bible and meditated on what Jesus had to say, the more I realized I was starting to resemble the double minded man referred to in the book of James. I was going to church, saying the right things and singing the right songs, but I wouldn't have recognized peace if it walked up and slapped me across the face.

At one point, after I'd spent a fair amount of time praying (which, in this case, is code for complaining to God that He wasn't fixing things in my life fast enough or good enough to suit me), this question popped into my head: do I believe what He said more than I believe my emotions and what I'm able to see? Ouch. Yikes.

Mistrust is the enemy of peace. It's that simple. If we don't trust God when He says He loves us like no other can, and believe that He's always working for and with us, we'll never experience true peace. And we'll continue to seek and chase something that is isn't hiding or running from us. Peace isn't the absence of war, uncertainty or problems. It's the trust that your Creator has your back and is big enough to take care of things in ways you never imagined possible.

Today's all-skate question: what have you been trying to fix yourself instead of peacefully putting it down to let God handle?

There are so many directions I could've gone with this blog carnival topic, it was hard to make a choice. Mine is one of many posts on the subject today; please click on the hyperlink above to read other posts. I'm sure they'll challenge and comfort you.

Ode to an Acura

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Sun, 24 Jan 2010 05:20:00 +0000

***This is an open letter to my 2007 Acura TSX. ***

Dear Jack,

Our time together has come to an end, and I want to tell you what a great car you've been. I will miss you, Jack. You've been reliable and I appreciate reliability. You are sexy, too, and I appreciate sleek, sexy cars. In fact, I'm convinced I was sexy simply because I drove you because sexiness just seemed to ooze out of you. I appreciate the teamwork and your helpful attitude over the last 2 1/2 years, too. Thanks for the times you reminded me that you were thirsty (even if you only wanted premium fuel), you needed an oil change, the headlights were still on, or that my passenger hadn't buckled his/her seat belt. Thanks for locking the doors behind me when I left them unlocked.

Some of my fondest memories of you include:
Driving around town together with the sun roof open to let in the fresh air and Georgia sunshine.
The way your heated seats warmed my tushie on the few cold days that Georgia gets each year.
The quick way you'd pick up speed when I was in a hurry. You never let me down, dude. Never.
Your incredible, thumping stereo. You made even ME sound good when I sang with Mac Powell and Freddie Mercury.
Driving on the interstate with you. 90 mph in an Acura feels remarkably smooth.

I hope your new owner treats you well, as I know you'll be good to him or her. Best wishes, Jack. You were the best, most fun 40K miles I've ever put on a car and I'll always think fondly of our trips to Florida, Louisiana and Tennessee because you safely got me to and from the people I love.

You'll be the standard by which I measure all of my future cars. Perhaps someday I'll again drive an Acura.
Peace out, Jack.
PS: I'm really sorry about that time I said the TL Sport was sexier than you. I didn't mean it.
Love,
Eva

The C's of love

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Tue, 29 Dec 2009 04:21:00 +0000

Bridget is hosting today's blog carnival. It's open to everyone; if you want to participate, go to her page and leave a comment with a link to your blog after you've posted your entry.

Love is the most powerful force in the universe. And from where I'm sitting, it seems there are 3 categories of 'love' we experience most often.

Casual - This is the kind of love we hear and see the most yet it has the shallowest meaning. It's never meant in a deep, committed, or sacrificial kind of way.
"I love those shoes."
"I love your hair."
"I love to play golf."
"I love that song."
Casual love doesn't require us to do anything. We can use the word love to describe our feelings and not suffer any consequences when we change our mind. If you don't love those shoes any more, you just stop wearing them. Nobody cares and you won't be held accountable.

Convenient - This is pretty straight-forward; as long as it's working, we love it.
I used to say I loved Arby's fast food until I lived in Wichita Falls, Texas. The only store in the city was located at the bottom of an exit off the freeway, didn't have a drive-thru and only took cash; no checks or debit cards. You had to really want Arby's to go there. After a few times of spending 30 minutes of my busy life trying to find a parking spot, walking inside and waiting in line, followed by sitting in traffic to get back on the freeway, I realized I didn't really love Arby's as much as I thought or claimed. The hassle wasn't worth the reward.

Sometimes it's convenient to love someone we think we can get something from...whether it's an inheritance, something he/she can do or provide that propels us forward at work, or gives us leverage, position, status or power.

This type of love has hurt me the most personally. Discovering I was convenient to love (and subsequently stop loving) cuts me deeper than being loved casually or conditionally for some reason and leaves me feeling like I've been sucker punched.

Conditional - This is closely related to convenient love but this is typically based on our performance (or lack thereof).
"You obviously don't have what it takes to be with someone like me"
"You called a few times but did you ever come over or offer to help financially?"
"If you can't try to understand me or what I need, then maybe we don't have anything worth fighting to save."

Since no one is able to perform the right way all the time, this type of love is extremely frustrating and typically unfair. It's pretty easy to spot though, because it doesn't take long to rear its ugly head.

Much of the time people who are love casually, conveniently or conditionally aren't even aware of it.

But there is another kind of love. And it also starts with a C.

It's Christ's love. But His love isn't anything like the ones I listed previously. In fact, His love is the polar opposite because there's nothing casual, convenient, or conditional about His love for humanity. He's committed to us. He's all in. He's true blue.

But I think we sometimes try to put His love in the first three categories because we have a hard time grasping it. If I don't love you unconditionally, it's pretty easy for me to assume that God doesn't love me unconditionally, either. But that's so wrong...

If you have only experienced the first three types of love I listed, please hear me: God has crazy love for us and it's not affected by our performance, lack of faith, mistakes/failures, accolades we've received, our ability to study/teach His text, or make money.
He loves us because we exist.
And anyone who tells you otherwise is lying to you.

bricks

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Sun, 27 Dec 2009 20:35:00 +0000

This morning in church when Ollie was making the announcements about upcoming events, I realized I only have two Sundays left at Lifepoint. Don't ask me how, but I managed to miss that reality before today and it hit me like a ton of bricks and I started crying. I've said that I'm going to try hard not to compare any and all churches we visit to "the LP" but I know that's going to be really tough. So tough, in fact, I've wondered how long it'll be before I won't be tempted to do that. (My guess is quite a while. :-/)

I'm sure tears will fall frequently (and heavily) in the upcoming weeks but I'll move forward as I wipe my eyes and blow my nose, knowing that even though I'll miss the LP, I'm going to the new place I belong. (what a weird concept)

And I'm taking the LP spirit with me.

Because the planet needs more of it.

power

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 13:56:00 +0000

Zoe is a silly, snuggly, spotted, spirited bulldog and I love having her around. And while Zoe is fun, she's a whole lotta dog. She's a powerful, rambunctious, puppy who is completely unaware of her capacity to accidentally hurt someone. Playfully biting or rough-housing with someone could easily do some damage if her power and strength were to be misdirected or uncontrolled. It's for this reason that we try not to let her get into an excited state of mind (except when playing with her friends Karma, Darra and Rex--there's no controlling that excitement); we want a behaved dog, the kind of dog that wouldn't annoy our non-dog-loving visitors yet would behave nicely toward the visitors who welcome her affection and attention. She's a work in progress.

We humans aren't very different; we also have power that needs to be managed and directed the right way. Maybe we don't realize it, or sometimes we just forget, but we need to recognize the responsibility of its strengths and weaknesses.

Zoe's not built for running fast; she's more of a working dog. But when she comes loping into the room and plows her body weight into your thighs, you're going to know it...and it won't matter if she was going 5 mph or 55. Mocha, on the other hand (the dog we had to put down earlier this year), wasn't a working dog. Mocha was created to retrieve. It didn't matter if it was a tennis ball, a fake duck, or a golf ball; whatever you threw, she was going to bring it back. Moose used to stand in the back yard and hit golf balls onto the roof of the house and Mocha would stand nearby, listen very carefully and then run to the part of the roof the ball was going to drop from. Then she'd catch it and take it back to Moose and drop it at his feet so they could do it all over again. She lived to retrieve. Mocha's weakness to her power was that she didn't know when to quit. She'd overplay and hurt herself. And sometimes in her zeal, she'd stand too closely to a golf club and get hurt.

When directing our power and energy into something healthy, it can seem like we're unstoppable because we accomplish so much. But when it's not aimed in the right direction, damage is inevitable. Having a lot of power doesn't impress or affect progress if you spend all your time having to undo what you've done wrong and cleaning up the mess you've left behind.

A bull may be exceptionally powerful, but if the Farmer wants the bull to stand patiently while tied to the plow and wait for Him to return from the house, it doesn't matter if the bull can plow 2 acres an hour; what matters is his obedience. And therein lies our weakness; knowing when to use our power and when to harness it.

Still learning to use my powers for good instead of evil,
Eva

Years by the numbers

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 05:02:00 +0000

22 - The # of years (to the day) ago I went on a blind date (set up by my co-worker) and met Moose.
21 - The # of years ago I married him. I was 21. He was 23.
20 - The # of years the Air Force has been moving us around.
19 - the # of times in the day he tells me he loves me, my butt looks good in my jeans, or that I'm hot. I never get tired of hearing any of those things.
18 - The # of couches I think we've had that have been used and abused by my men wrestling on it.
17 - One of the anniversaries he missed because he was deployed. I was particularly sentimental about this one...17 years on the 17th...and it fell on a Saturday, the day of the week we married.
16 - The age Ryan started driving...and we learned there was a whole new dimension to praying, loving and worrying about your kid.
15 - The # of TDY's Moose has had.
14 - This how old Ryan was when Moose taught him to shave. It was a serious dad moment for Moose; he came out of the bathroom a little teary-eyed. His little buddy was rapidly becoming a man.
13 - The # of vehicles we've had...Chevy Sprint, Toyota Tercel wagon, Plymouth Grand Voyager, Chevy Luv, Ford Ranger, Ford F-150, Honda Accord, Hyundai Elantra, Chevy Suburban, Chevy Trailblazer, Ford Ranger, Hyundai Sonata, and an Acura TSX, whom I affectionately call "Jack".
12 - The # of months we spent in marriage counseling. Cost us $100 a week and thousands of $ in credit card debt. Dr. Scott's rule that our session couldn't be discussed for 24 hours (smart man), left us with no choice other than to go to Sears to anesthetize our pain. LOL Took us 3 years to pay it off. It was worth every, single penny.
11 - The # of houses/apartments/trailers we've lived in.
10 - The # of years we had a teenager under our roof. We survived, but not without accruing our fair share of gray hair.
9 - The # of jobs I've had.
8 - The # of dogs we've had: Beemer, Samantha, Mickey, Misery, Dixie, Willow, Mocha and Zoe
7 - The # of hours it takes to drive to TN to visit our family from Georgia. Closest we've lived since joining the AF.
6 - The # of times we've changed bases. Illinois, Washington, North Carolina, Georgia, Texas, and Georgia.
5 - The # of wedding bands I've bought Brian. He bent 3 at work (to the point of being unwearable), lost 1, and then I got smart and bought one made out of tungsten. I couldn't get it engraved, but it's pretty much indestructible.
4 - The # of candles on Drew's birthday cake when we gave him a new bike. He broke his arm an hour later.
3 - Ryan's age when Brian adopted him. They celebrate their anniversary every July, sometimes in big ways, other times in small ways.
2 - The # of kids we had on our first wedding anniversary. We lived in Spokane, thousands of miles from home with a 3 year-old, a newborn, and no babysitter. It was a cozy celebration indeed.
1 - The number of months until we move to Germany and start a whole new adventure...just the two of us.

Moose, I made a wish and you came true. Happy anniversary. Here's to the next 21.

Our love is the flower that blossoms, our joy...its lasting perfume.

I'll always love you.

"It"

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 04:14:00 +0000

Some despise it.
Some have been hurt by it.
Some haven't 'represented' it very well.

But...
Our knowledge won't increase it...
                                 Our inabilities won't hinder it...
                                                               Our failures won't paralyze it...
                                                                                            Our enemy won't prevail against it...

Because His blood covers it.

Because His love propels it.

It really is worth far more than we can begin to comprehend.

Except it's not an it.
We are it.
It is us.
It's a body.
It's a person.
It's the bride.
And the bride is cherished by a deeply, devoted King.

Thanks, Bridget. :D

orders, pictures and King Kong

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 21:12:00 +0000

I'm a little behind in doing this but I've been kinda busy.

Our request to change our leave date (which we asked for in case the orders didn't get here soon) was accepted. We fly out January 24th. And five months after receiving notification of our upcoming change of station, we got our orders. Now the pace picks up for us...scheduling packing shipments, shipping the truck, turning in my car (it's a lease) and deciding what goes in the suitcases and carry on bags will dominate our thoughts and direct our energies over the next 7 weeks. Those things will also be the direct cause of our stress and headaches during that time, as well as some time after.

We went to Louisiana to visit our friends for Thanksgiving. We had a great time and after having so much fun with Cheryl's girls, I am seriously petitioning God for granddaughters (just not right now). Annaliese and Eleora played hopscotch and colored on the front porch with me and it rained during the night before we left. When Eleora woke up and saw our artwork had vanished, she told her mom our "skips" were gone. Here are a few pictures that are too cute not to share with you.

Yes, Eleora dressed herself. I think I laughed (or at least snickered) every time I looked at her. So precious!

Please don't call DFACS; it was Annaliese's idea to sit with Zoe in her bed. LOL

Last Thanksgiving after we visited the Floyds, I sent one of our group photos to the Jones Soda company and had our photo put on a case of soda bottles that were delivered for our families to share as a memento. But since the cost of shipping and the 6 pack of soda was going to total about 50 bucks, I decided to forgo that awesome souvenir this year and outline the memorable parts of the trip on my blog. Some of the highlights from the trip that weren't documented with photos include (but are not limited to):

the EXTREMELY hot fire at the weenie roast. It was so hot Cheryl thought I was going to walk away from the bonfire with a tan. The roasting sticks weren't long enough and I was afraid my eyebrows were going to be singed off. (When you read that last part, I hope you read 'singed' with the j sound. If you read it with the g sound, you're probably wondering how a fire could sing my eyebrows off.)
the Tea Party...it was the first tea party I've ever attended. I wish I would've had time to go buy a hat and gloves for it.
the four pounds of spinach dip Cheryl and I consumed at Grandmother's house on Thursday. Well, Troy said it was 4 pounds; Cheryl and I swear it couldn't have been more than 3 - 3.5 pounds tops.
Eleora's sign language/hand gestures when asking for pumpkin bread. She looked like she was snapping a pencil in half while asking, "Miss Eva, can I have a piece of pumpkin bread?"
Kael's numerous reminders to Moose that the boys had to play Halo before bed time. Kael's only 7 years old but he had more kills than Moose did.
Watching Home Alone in the dark and hearing the kids laugh and shriek all the way through it. Especially when Joe Pesci's character's head caught on fire.
Trying to corral the two dogs when they were in the room with the little kids was like trying to nail Jello to a tree. I think Gabriel got knocked down and/or bumped a record number of times. To say he didn't appreciate it would be putting it mildly.
The ridiculously long, wrong, King Kong trip and order at Starbucks on Black Friday night. (OK, so King Kong wasn't involved in any way, but I wanted to include another "ong" word.) I bet Troy never suggests stopping by Starbucks again. The girl at the window actually told him, "it's Black Friday and we had our butts handed to us all day long." Troy's order was the only one that was correct on the first go-round, even though all the drinks had been repeated to us correctly when going back over the order.
Troy's one good eye - So Troy has something wrong with one of his eyes and it requires drops to be put in it. The drops cause his eye to dilate...yet he still beat Moose at golf. And read street signs from far distances. And spotted details the rest of us missed in the video game we played. All with "my one good eye". LOL

Back row L-R: Troy, Cheryl, Eva, Annaliese, Moose, Eleora

Bottom row: Gabriel on Jeth's lap, Kael, Devon

So there, my souvenir from Thanksgiving--bloggy style. It'll have to do. For now, anyway.
Peace out.

Grandpa - honoring his legacy

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Wed, 09 Dec 2009 23:15:00 +0000

Today I attended the funeral of a friend's dad. "Grandpa" was retired from the Air Force, worked for the public school system and was a volunteer fireman, among other things. He was a noble kind of man, the kind we don't have enough of in this world.

A person didn't have to spend a lot of time with Grandpa to know how much he loved his family, to know that he was an honest, hard-working man, or that he was a generous person. I don't say that Grandpa was generous because he gave money (although he did); he was generous because he gave himself...to his wife, his children, his co-workers and neighbors. And the impact he had on people's lives was very evident today at his service. His children spoke of him with love, admiration, and deep respect. That's not common enough these days, in my opinion. As I was driving to the burial site, I noticed a flag in the distance being flown at half staff. I knew in my gut it was in honor of Grandpa, but couldn't guess who was flying it. It was the Fire Station. And as I approached, I saw the men on duty had pulled one of the trucks out of the bay and parked it by the side of the road with its lights on. And while the mile-long line of cars drove by, the men on duty stood at attention and saluted the procession. I gasped out loud when I saw them because it was neat to see that kind of respect displayed. And today was a nasty day to be standing outside. It was incredibly blustery and cold, but those men didn't move until we had all passed by.

I've never been to an interment that was attended by the Honor Guard. That was quite a sight to behold. An American flag had been draped over Grandpa's casket and I was standing very near the team at the cemetery as they removed it so it could be folded and presented to his wife. Until today, I didn't know it was possible to fold a piece of fabric with such a high degree of respect, dignity, and honor. Each fold of the material was followed by a trace of its crease to be sure it was right, and the precision of their movements mirrored the pride with which the Honor Guard pays homage to its service-members. From the opening prayer to the gun salute and playing of 'Taps', Grandpa's life of honor was reflected in today's celebration of his life.

Living an honorable life really does mean something. Showing respect to our flag and the people who serve and have served to defend it really does mean something. Honesty, integrity and ethics really do mean something.

The Fully Loaded American Bulldog

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 02:51:00 +0000

Did you know American Bulldogs were equipped with a built-in thermometer? At least, ours is. When Zoe's cold (or way too hot), her normally pale pink skin brightens up so much it begins to resemble the color of the stuff you drink when you're nauseated. Her display panel is pretty easy to read though: no pink color = no worries. Bright pink color indicates warmth (or cooling) is needed. And apparently, I have the deluxe model American Bulldog because mine also has a state-of-the-art 'tired barometer'. That handy, little gadget measures how tired she is. Its display is easy to read, too. The farther out her bottom lip sticks (compared to the top), the more tired she is. On a typical day, her skin hovers at a shade of very pale pink, and the barometer doesn't engage until around 9-ish each evening. (No, the barometer doesn't really have anything to do with this post; I just included that bit of information so you'd have it. You know, in case you ever need it. 'Cause I'm generous like that.)

I've never been a fan of animals wearing clothes. It creeps me out and makes me question the emotional stability of the person who wants to dress an animal like a human. It's not like they aren't already covered with fur, hair, feathers, scales, or whatever, right? However, Zoe the wonder dog has short, thin fur and she's always cold. It probably doesn't help that we practically keep our house cold enough to hang meat. (What can I say? We're a hot-blooded bunch.) I don't even fold the blankets that we keep in the living room any more because Zoe is usually lying on or burrowed under one of them. But Old Man Winter has finally come to middle Georgia and we've had to bundle up when we head out for our evening walks. (And you know it's cold when I wear a scarf AND gloves. I didn't even wear gloves when we went hiking in Alaska in December a few years ago!). And ever since OMW arrived, Zoe's skin has been bright pink.

So, I caved. I kicked and screamed all the way, but I caved nonetheless. Zoe the wonder dog now has 3, count 'em, 3 coats. The first one is waterproof for evening/wet walks. It's also reversible. You know, because we wouldn't want her to get tired of wearing the same, old thing all the time, right? Yeah, right.

The second is a fleece hoodie (with sleeves for her front legs) in red and black, so she can represent the beautiful Georgia Bulldawg Nation wherever she goes. You know, because she loves football so much. Yeah, right.

The third item is (ironically enough) a pepto-bismol pink sweater embellished with a snowman, snowflakes and bling. Yes, bling. On a dog's sweater. I know, it's totally ridiculous. But the dog needed something to keep her warm when we walk and when she ~~lies around the house all day~~ goes into her undercover stealth mode as she faithfully protects her turf every day, so she might as well look good, right? Yeah, right. Actually, I don't give a rip about the cute factor but I do give a rip about the ugly factor. And they had some *fugly* stuff out there for dogs. Didn't argyle die around the same time as Babe Ruth? Well, it should have. What is WRONG with pet apparel designers, these days?! There were designs and colors in the store that humans shouldn't be wearing, much less putting them on our beloved pets.

Huh.

So I guess if what they say about dogs beginning to resemble their owners after a while is true, then it stands to reason the old man/woman who likes to wear argyle would want to dress little Fido in it, too. And I would, of course, want Zoe to be trendy and fashion forward in her dress.

OK, so maybe I care a little more about the cute factor than I realize or am willing to admit. But I'm drawing the line at jewelry and all that other crap. Because it's ridiculous.

I'd like to go on record: I still think it's creepy. But since all the bald and/or balding men I know wear hats in the winter, there's bound to be some kind of wisdom in covering a non- or thinly-veiled outer surface that makes it copy-~~cat~~ dog worthy. (Sorry. I couldn't help myself.)

Being the good bloggy chick that I am, I'm posting a couple of pictures. Go ahead and laugh; I did.
Those little, tiny dots are iridescent sequins. Which is fancy-talk for "bling". Ridiculous.

Here we have Zoe (who is sawing some serious logs) in her fleece hoodie. Her waterproof, reversible jacket is above her.

Have a ridiculously doggone good day, y'all.

grief

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 05:40:00 +0000

Thanks for hosting today's blog carnival, Peter.

When people hear the word grief, thoughts typically gravitate toward the death of a friend or family member. But grief reaches beyond death, and today I'm going to share a couple of the things I'm grieving.

I'm grieving a relationship that appears to have ended. I knew it was going to change but I expected the change to come after I moved. I knew I'd miss my friend and our time together, but I never dreamed I'd miss her while I was still living here. My heart wasn't prepared for this and I'm struggling to accept the way things are right now.

I attend a really amazing church and with each week that goes by, I become increasingly aware of how much I'm going to miss it. Podcasts are posted online but it won't be the same as being there. I've never felt like I belonged or fit in any church I've attended as much as Lifepoint.

And five months later, it still feels weird without Mocha being a part of our evening walks.

Because I believe we can't fully appreciate life, joy, fun or happiness without experiencing grief, I won't fixate on what's missing. I'll turn my focus to what I have had: fun memories with my friend; I'll purposefully resist the temptation to compare every church we visit to LP, and I'll remember the nine years we spent laughing at our chocolate lab, throwing her tennis ball so much I thought my arm was going to fall off, and the way she seemed to believe everyone who entered our house was here to play ball or swim with her. And in a weird way, it's comforting to know this season of life will serve to grow and stretch me as much (or more) as any other.

Peace.

Things I Support

noreply@blogger.com (Eva M.) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 17:34:00 +0000

You knew a counterpart to the Things I Do Not Support post was coming, didn't you? Of course you did; you've probably stopped by here every other day checking to see if I had posted it yet. LOL In no particular order, here's a partial list of things I support:

1. Taking the high road when faced with a sticky situation in a relationship. I know it's not easy to do this but I've watched a few people do it and I admire them greatly.

2. Dogs. They're awesome.

3. Babies. They're even more awesome than dogs. I like to snuggle them, hear them laugh, and I think baby feet and hands are freakin' adorable.

4. Red candy. It's hard to mess up candy that's flavored after something red, whether it's cherry, strawberry, watermelon, or whatever.

5. Toddlers. But it's really not fair that they have more energy than most of the adults who've been tasked with their care.

6. Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Especially the New York Super Fudge Chunk flavor.

7. Kids. Their curious and simplistic view of the world can stop you dead in your tracks when they make a matter-of-fact announcement about something they've observed that you never even thought they noticed, much less processed and figured out.

8. Sitting outside by a fire on a really cold night with friends.

9. Teenagers. No longer children and not quite adults, it sucks to be stuck between two worlds. They make me feel young while I'm reminded of how old I am and I love spending time with them.

10. Ryan. This little king is my favorite firstborn. I call him a world changer because the world isn’t going to change him. He’s destined to shake nations (or at the very least, rattle a few cages). He never compromises when he believes he's right and his passion doesn’t allow him to do anything with half his heart. But underneath that tough exterior is a tender warrior whose willingness to stand up for those who can't defend themselves reveals William (which means 'defender') was the perfect middle name for him. I know his future wife will appreciate his strong leadership and his sensitivity and playful yet daring nature will make him an excellent dad when he has kids. After all, he learned from the best.

11. Andrew Steven (aka "Drewby"). This warrior is my favorite baby boy. His quick wit and off-the-cuff one-liners make everyone laugh, but it's his laid-back approach to life that makes you realize how important it is to stop and smell the roses. Although he's typically pretty loud when playing, talking, and, well, doing pretty much everything, he has a quiet way of achieving things that will go unnoticed if you're too busy laughing to pay attention. I'm convinced he will be a balanced leader when he marries and his wife and kids will do a lot of laughing as they traverse through life with him. After all, he learned from the best, too.

12. Laughing so hard whatever you're drinking comes out your nose. Or until you cry. Either way, you know it was funny.

13. Playing cards or board games with friends. And making sure the people you love know you love them.

14. Standing in Life Point Church singing along with the band, feeling the presence of God permeate your entire being.

15. Sitting in Life Point Church hearing about God's incredible love for people and being excited about leaving so you can go share that love with the world.

16. Mountains. Especially the snow covered variety. My favorites are the ones in Alaska. They're a breathtaking display of God's majesty and power. I know other stuff is, too, but they are my favorite.

17. Listening to loud, head-banging music while driving fast on a deserted road. Oh, yeah...I love this.

18. Dancing. Specifically doing the Hokey Pokey, Limbo, and Electric Slide with your friends at your New Year's Eve party.

19. Hockey. The speed, the cool air, the fights...it's awesome. I was going to add football to this list, but you already know how I feel about football. Ditto for Starbucks.

20. Staying in bed on a rainy morning, snuggling under the covers with the amazing and incomparable Moose. Yeah, that rocks. Of course, doing pretty much everything with Moose rocks. Even the dreaded grocery shopping.

What things do you support?