I'm Still Here

People!

I promise, I'm not dead.

I know I missed Manna Monday, but next week I should be back on track.

But....This last week has been a transition period for me.

These next 9 months are my last before I am completely done with my masters. However, this is the beginning of this particular semester. And as all of you know, the start of a new semester is always hectic and annoying.

SO....if you promise to stick it out with me, I know that soon I will have amazing stories for you again!

In the mean time?

I figured I would just leave you with some pics of my dogs because they are cute and in the midst of the stress? They make me happy with their stress-free lives.

Just all wags and kisses and playing.

They definitely remind me to not take life too seriously!

So here they are in all of their glory:



Nala (our puppy) acting like she is a big baby.

Nala also thinks she is a human and therefore sits on the couch like a child.

Nala's favorite past time is sleeping. On her pillow. All. Day. Long. She is extremely lazy.

Nala's other favorite pasttime is eating. Eating what? Anything. She's not picky. It could be dirt, food, hair, garbage, it is all great. Apparently? I am missing out on the greatness of these fine delicacies.

Here is Nariz as a puppy. Even then, we could tell she would be extremely ornery.

Here she is all grown up. That stuff on the floor? Yea. Her doing. Also? Those teeth you see are permanently sticking out because she has the worst underbite ever. Therefore, she always looks like she is snarling at you.

Although this pic is blurry, it accurately depicts her attitude: Lounging because she thinks she is queen. Of the world.

Nariz's favorite thing in the world is a tennis ball. She will play until she drops dead. Here she is looking like she's on drugs holding her tennis ball. Oh the entertainment she brings to us.


Well, those are the dogs. I promise I will write again soon!!

They Said, I Said

So you all remember me telling you all about 5 important things to know about me, right? Right? I know you are ALL such AVID readers that you never would've missed out on this post. (But just in case you were on your death bed the day I posted that and didn't get a chance to read it, here it is. It simply explains a little about how I became hearing impaired.)

Anyway.

So, just tonight I was out in the kitchen singing my little heart out.

All of a sudden, I hear Brandon yell from the other room: "Those are NOT the lyrics."

So I decided to compile a whole list of words of lyrics that I know of that I have messed up on.

Enjoy... I have entitled it: They Said, I Said.


They said: “Oh I swear, the world better prepare, for when I'm a billionaire.”

I said: “Oh I swear, Happy the Bear!, for when I’m a billionaire.”

(Brandon says: “Happy the Bear? What does that have to do with being a billionaire?

Me: “You know, I was kinda wondering how that made sense…”



They said: “Hot like Mexico, Mexico.”

I said: “Hot like Master Kova, Master Kova.”

(Brandon says to me: “Who the crap is Master Kova? Do you even know what you are singing about??”)



They said: “Oh let’s do it! Oh let’s do it!”

I said: Ole do it! Ole do it!

(Brandon says: “We are not at a fiesta. They are not saying ‘Ole’!”)



They said: “You’re like a candy store, and I’m a toddler.”

I said: “You’re like a candy store, and I’m a condo!

(Brandon says: A condo? Really, you think she’s calling him a condo?

My response: Well, it’s not any better than calling him a toddler.

Brandon: You have a point.)


All I have to say is this: It is NOT my fault that I cant hear the lyrics right. I am half-deaf.

Therefore, you cannot judge me for ACTUALLY thinking my lyrics were the correct ones. Even if they don't make sense at all.

How Do These Things Happen To Me

I come home from work today, and I notice that only one of the trash cans was emptied.

This is the second week in a row that my trash man has neglected to take all of the trash.

What is his problem? I really don’t know.

I think he is lazy, but whatever.

ANYWAY.

So I go to check out the trash bags to see what the problem is.

Oh crap.

One thing I DO actually know about the trash people is that they won’t take any garbage that isn’t contained in a garbage bag.

And people? Someone has placed several random items into my trashcan that is not my trash.

Excellent.

So I (still dressed in all of my working nice clothing) start to pull out items out of the trash.

Then, I stop.

Oh crap again.

I realize that someone has thrown…ahem….paraphernalia… into my trash can.

OH C.R.A.P.

I run quickly back into the house and start to scrub my skin so hard that my skin almost falls off.

I then return, gloved and ready to go.

I pack up all of the “paraphernalia” into one bag.

Then? I realize that the existing bags that were already in the trash can need to be divided into smaller bags because apparently our trash man is a frail muscle-less man who cannot lift them.

OH wait, another crap.

This time? I discover that these bags? Are filled with cut grass. However, because we have two dogs when we cut the grass, dog poop residue is all over it.

And lucky for me, since the trash man hasn’t taken these bags for two weeks, the grass and poop has just been marinating. In the hot sun. And then it rained. And got hot again. And rained. And got hot again.

Getting the picture?

I open up one bag and my gag reflex is so strong that I almost puke on the sidewalk.

I bury my face into my shirt once I recover and go to work.

I have to SQQQQQUUUEEEZZZEEE all the water and poop out of the grass so it wont be so heavy.

And of course, I splash some on my toes.

And then? I splash some on my clothes.

GREAT.

At this point, I am furious. I am stomping and getting so mad that the neighbors probably think I have a mental problem, since no one else was there but me.

I drag the hose out to the front of the house when I FINALLY finish cleaning and separating the bags.

I then also show up with my disinfectant.

Now, I become the even-crazier neighbor by disinfecting and spraying off the entire sidewalk while mumbling to myself.

I finally finish and stalk back inside to scour my skin off. Even after 20 minutes of scouring? The smell was so pungent that it is stuck to me.

My husband walks into give me a hug and is immediately repulsed.

Excellent. I tell him what happened, and he is rolling on the ground.

I think he gets too much joy out of my misery. I ask him if it smelled outside too much.

He said ‘Well, it smells like diarrhea. Mixed with something kinda toxic, like ammonia.”

Great. Because people? What do they always tell you to do if you smell a strong smell of ammonia in your neighborhood? Call the cops. Because there’s probably a meth lab nearby.

Well, wouldn’t that just make this day complete?

The Wrath of My Armpit

So you all remember my husband's post about me, right? If not, you can read it here.

People?

I need your help.

That right armpit that is smelly is really taking over my life!

Why am I so suddenly obsessed with my armpits? I will tell you.

Recently, I switched to a natural deodorant aka a deodorant without aluminum in it. My mom has been telling me for years about the dangers of antiperspirants, but I have been ignoring her.

Well, since I recently switched, things have been mostly good.

The deodorant lasts for a few good hours.

But then, the smell starts to creep.

Of course, only from my right armpit, because apparently my left armpit has no scent while my left smells like peaches and sweat. I know, I know a delicious combination.

So what should I do, people?

Apply aluminum armpit-clogging deodorant to the right armpit, and let my left one be free?

See, I have a problem with that because my aunt had to get surgery because of the crazy backed-up state of her armpit after she used aluminum deodorant.

So clearly I don't want to go back to the un-natural deodorant. But am I supposed to walk around with one smelly armpit the rest of my life, while the other is free and breezy?

I need your advice, people!

I don't want to smell like peaches and sweat the rest of my life on my right side.

I guess until I find a solution, I will just hug people on the left side of my body and plaster my right armpit to my side.

So if you see me on the street and my arm looks like it has gone lame? Don't worry! It hasn't! I'm just attempting to hide my creepy smelly armpit from you.

Manna Monday

Welcome to another installment of Manna Monday...

When you think ‘servanthood’, what comes to mind?

For some, you might conjure up images of slaves, either past or present.

For others, you may think of being humble and putting others above yourself.

Of course, the type I want to talk about today is the latter.

Why am I focused on servanthood? Well, in short, my husband.

Now, I just have to take this moment to brag about my husband.

Within the last week, this is what he has done for me:

Scenario 1: I was exhausted from school and just feeling overwhelmed. I casually mentioned that I was too tired right then, but would cook later. He didn’t hesitate. He asked: “What would you like me to cook for dinner?”

Scenario 2: I had an urge to get a Panera piece of bread. I mention this offhandedly. Next thing I know, he is on his way to Panera with a piece of their bread just for me. When the first store didn’t have the bread? He went to another one.

Scenario 3: I complained that my back was sore from working out.

He massaged my neck and back as I peacefully fell asleep and felt all the stress of the day melt away.



So besides the fact that my husband is a.m.a.z.i.ng., why do I share this story?

Because he is an example of what I would like to be.

He is constantly amazing me in the ways in which he puts the needs of others above his own. In fact, this seems to be second nature to him.

Do I think this is because of coincidence?

No.

Rather, I honestly believe it’s because he has chosen to make his relationship with Christ such that He is his best friend. From this? Flows a desire to care more about others than himself.

He purposefully chooses each day to become more and more humble, rarely demanding his own needs or rights.

Wow.

He is a great example of a leader of our home and the way I wish to be.

Christ himself washed every single one of his disciples feet as an act of service.

Now, keep in mind that the disciples walking on dirt roads that probably were filled with horse feces (as their mode of transportation), while wearing open-toed sandals. AKA the disciples feet were disgusting.

And GOD Himself. Jesus Christ. Chose to humble himself. Instead of walking in the room and declaring : “I am God. Worship me”, he bent down low and took on the job of a servant.

Did he have every RIGHT to proclaim his Godhood and ask people to worship Him? Yes. But in that moment, did he?

Am I willing to take on the most disgusting role, or unpleasant role, just to serve someone?

Or a harder question, even when its not a huge sacrifice, am I willing to serve??

Think about it…

Discounts are the Best!

I LOVE free stuff.

Seriously.

I might have an obsession.

I don’t even know where this obsession to collect free things began. Because people? I am NOT a stuff collector. In fact, I throw away things too often sometimes and then regret it when I realize I needed that later. But I just hate clutter, so it all goes in the trash.

So obviously my hyper-garbage-throwing-away personality contradicts my desire for free things.

Am I surprised? No. Often, I am a walking contradiction.

Anyway.

Back to my discussion of free things.

I am so obsessed that I will take almost anything that someone gives me.

For example, just the other day I was on my way to work. When I went through security, the security guard noticed the cup that I was carrying my milk in. It said “Free Masons.”

He gave me the strangest look, and then was like: “Free Masons? Where did you get that cup?”

I simply responded: “OH! I was at a fair and they had a booth and they were handing out free cups! I love free things!”

His voice then relaxed and I went inside while thinking to myself: “Now that was odd.”

So I get home, and put my cup in the sink from the day. I then ask Brandon: “Do you know what the Free Masons are?”

Do you know his response?

He said they’re a fraternity that operates semi cult-like.

G.R.E.A.T.

So I’ve been out advertising a cult with my free cup.

Do you think this would make me throw the cup away? Nope. I still have it. I just don’t take it out in public anymore. After all, it was FREE. Duh.

Among other free crap that I get excited about? Anything.

About a month ago the “Teacher Store” as we call it, or more appropriately named United Art and Education ,was giving away scratch off tickets to that you could get discounts at the store.

Not only did I wake up Brandon at the butt crack of dawn, but drove there while speeding just so we could get there in time (remember that I am not the teacher. He is. But look who was excited about the sale….exactly.)

Once we got in the parking lot, I saw so many cars. I panicked!

“No! What if they run out of scratch off tickets??”

I squeal into the parking lot and tell Brandon to “MOVE!”

I then proceed to RUN across the parking lot to try to beat the other teachers to the door. Brandon walks leisurely behind me.

I make it to the door and realize that they still had like 100 scratch off tickets left.

What did I win off of my scratch off ticket? A recyclable grocery bag. Brandon? $5 off a purchase.

And do you know what he said to me: “So I bet this was worth all the running across the parking lot, huh?” with a smirk on his face.

Whatever, Brandon.

It was CRUCIAL to get the free things.

And who couldn’t use a good recyclable grocery bag:)…

Octopus Tentacles

Quote of the Day:

One of the kids that my husband teaches asks the following question:


Kid: "How many testicles does an octopus have?"


Brandon's response: "Uh, I think you mean tentacles."


LOL!

I just thought you might enjoy a little humor on your Friday:):):)

Anytime Fitness, Here I Come

So as you all know, I am getting my masters, right?

And as you also know, I am partially killing myself in order to do it.

Unfortunately, some of what comes with the territory is the fact that I have NO time for myself.

This would include working out.

However, I have decided to cut out some other activities that I do in order to begin to make time for myself to work out again.

Back in college, I worked out 5 days a week. I was pretty darn fit if I do say so myself (with the exception of my freshman year, when I became a lard-ball and packed on 20 pounds. S.E.X.Y. I then realized that I could not just eat like a ravaged beast at all meals, and began looking normal again).

ANYWAY.

Then, after college, I got married. I didn’t work out QUITE as much, but still kept a pretty good routine.

Fast forward 2 years (starting a year ago) when I started my masters program.

The working out? COMPLETELY STOPPED.

Like, shamefully I have probably worked out a grand total of 20 times in an entire year. Wow. I can’t believe I just put that out on the web. BOO.

In case you didn’t catch it? In college? I used to work out 20x in a month. Shame.

Anyway. So even though my clothes have stayed the same size? The fitness? Gone. The muscles? Gone.

Oh sad day.

So what did I finally decide to do?

Work out! I am neglecting some of my other duties in order to work out. I am letting go of my perfectionist tendencies to try to get all ‘A’s and prioritizing my body instead.

And yesterday was the first day I had worked out in forever. Man, it felt good.

But today? I feel like a shark rammed his teeth into my butt, and a rhino decided to slam me in the stomach, while my arms feel pleasantly like an elephant decided to stomp on them.

LOVE IT!

I was babysitting ‘J’ tonight, and he wanted to sit down on the ground to play a game. As soon as I sat, I yelled “OwwwwwwwwwwWWWWWW.” He thought it was hilarious. So what did he do? As soon as I got up to leave and start cooking dinner, he started poking my freaking legs.

Wow. If you want to know how annoying a 9 year old can be? Just tell them about some pain you are experiencing. They will make sure to make it 10000x worse.

So I’m trying to cook while he is poking me in the legs, cracking up. So I send him to his room. The first chance he gets? He comes up to me and pokes me in the face. Why? Because I hate it. He goes back to his room. He comes out again and pokes my legs again.

I temporarily contemplate stomping on his toes just to see if it feels good. I, however, demonstrate restraint and do not. He is a lucky kid.

That time? He got sent to his room for much longer. And I threatened to take away his D.S. He stopped poking me from then on.

But my butt, legs, and arms? Still feel like crap.

Ahh the joys of being out of shape.

My Erratic Brain

Thank you all for putting up with my ranting yesterday. I really needed to get that out!

And in an update? When our faux child got home last night? We had a GREAT conversation. He agreed to the consequences that we were going to give him, and today when he left? He left a note where he was going.

Praise the Lord!

Anyway. Because I was busy being angry yesterday, I totally missed the fact that yesterday? Was the end of my competition with my husband. (Want to read about the competition? Click here )

Technically, my husband conceded before the competition was even over, but here he is to officially concede. And for your reading pleasure, he felt the need to share with all of my readers how erratic my brain really is if you were going to follow me instead of him!:)

Enjoy!



I've come to grips with my 8 followers compared to my wife's 23. So I figure if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.
But before you start reading her blog, maybe you should know how erratic she really is. Here are a few random quotes and scenarios that I've captured in the past week. Enjoy.

"Do you think it's possible to have one armpit smell worse than the other? Because I'm pretty sure my right armpit smells worse than my left."

"The little 12 year old girls watching America’s Got Talent will vote for the little 12 year old singer because I? Was 12 once."

"This one time at camp I had this crush on a camp counselor. I was 13 and he was 21. I thought he was going to wait for me."

"Eric, from CSI is hot. Don't you think so, honey?"

"This dog is so fat I can barely pick her up. Do you think she looks anorexic?"

"I'm probably going to have to wear a diaper when I'm pregnant. Because I have a really small bladder. And sometimes I pee a little bit already. Just imagine when I'm pregnant."

"Will you smell my armpit? I'm pretty sure it stinks"

"That dog farted and again and it smells like fish. Will you wash that dog's butt?"
**************************
Sometimes she talks in her sleep.. and this is what I wake up to.

"SCARED, SCARED, SCARED, SCARED"

"OH MY GOODNESS! OH MY GOODNESS! I THINK I JUST SCARED MYSELF AWAKE!"

"OOOOOOOUUUUUUCCCCCHHHH MY EYE!!" (that was me screaming when she punched me in the eye while she was asleep. Funny thing is... she didn't even wake up)


And this one is my all time favorite.

Elizabeth: Will you still love me even if I get to be 300 pounds?
Me: Yes
Elizabeth: What if I only had one arm and one leg?
Me: Yes
Elizabeth: Ooh I have a better idea. What if there was only half of me. So I only had one arm, one leg, half of a face,half of a body, AND I weighed 300 pounds. Then what?
Me: (no comment)

So now that you know a lot more about the true Elizabeth do you want to read her blog? ....

Probably ... this game sucks.

-Dirty Lenses

Don't believe anything he says! None of this is true! (Read: all of this is true, but I dont want to admit it...)

Manna Monday?

So it’s supposed to be Manna Monday, right? (Missed the first Manna Monday? Click here.) A.K.A. the time where I share what God is teaching me at the time.

So I thought and I thought, and I came up with nothing?

Maybe (and you will all have to excuse me) because I am BLINDED by my anger right now.

Remember our faux child? Also known as my brother-in-law who is living at my house right now. Who just so happens to be a teenager. Who is irresponsible and young.

I am not a patient woman. I wish I were, but I am not. All of the patience in my family is my husband’s. And his is wearing thin too.

We set out very simple rules for him to follow when he came to live with us.

We even had him sign a contract. Why?

Because the whole purpose of him coming was because he had been getting into a lot of trouble back home, so we figured if we offered our home up to him, it would be an opportunity for a fresh start. Since he had been in trouble in the past, we didn’t want to leave ourselves vunerable so we made a contract.

Anyway.

I DO applaud him for coming to live with us to begin with. At least he took the first step to change his life.

But people? I am so angry I literally feel like my whole body is on fire.

Simple rules are simple rules.

#1 Tell us where you are going and be back by 12:30 am.

Telling us where he is going helps keep him safe. And I personally think 12:30 am is pretty darn lenient if you ask me. Brandon and I both have jobs/school in the morning to go to so its not too much to ask him to be back by 12:30.

----Does he tell us where he is going? N.O. Despite numerous requests to do so, he still disappears. Without so much as a note.

----Does he come back by 12:30am? N.O. He blames it on his work schedule. But once? I caught him in a lie saying he was up at the basketball court even though earlier he said he was working.

COOL.

#2 Do not take anything of ours without asking

-----Has he taken 4 different things within the past month? YES . Most recently? My husband’s $300 MP3 player.

COOL.

#3 Pay rent

-----He has been here for a month. Not only has he not paid his security deposit, he has not paid his rent.

COOL.

#4 Do not sneak in and out of our house

----On more than one occasion we have noticed a window being left open or a door being unlocked. Thanks, I really want my house to be burglarized. Thanks so much for leaving us all vulnerable. No really, I am so grateful.

COOL.

HOW IN THE WORLD DO PEOPLE SURVIVE WITH TEENAGERS IN THEIR HOME?

I feel like I have totally lost my mind! To know me is to know that I am hard core. When I set rules? I am not joking. I really mean them.

But with our faux child? He is sooo sensitive and can go off in an instant, and even though I am furious with him for doing all of the above? I still love him and want him to be safe. The last thing I want is for him to blow up and leave and do something stupid.

I guess this is the same predicament all parents of teenagers have. You want to punish, but you realize they are part adult but at the same time still so very much a kid. You realize that if you push too hard they will disappear, but if you don’t set the boundaries they will walk all over you.

And people? I am NOT NOT NOT NOT NOT one to be walked all over. If anything? I can be way too harsh.

UGGGGHHHH…..

What’s that you say, Lord?

That I am a hypocrite?

The last thing I want right now is to be convicted.

Can’t I just be angry and hold a grudge? Just this once?

Fine.

Even as I write this blog post, I realize I am in need of a change of heart.

Should I allow my brother in law to walk all over us? By no means. We have already brainstormed consequences for when he walks in the door tonight. And they WILL be implemented.

But when Peter came to Jesus himself and asked how many times should he forgive his ‘brother’ who sins against him and asks: “Should I forgive him seven times??”

What does Jesus reply? Not seven times, but seventy times seven. A.K.A. 490 times. A.K.A. Unlimited forgiveness, which is the same type of forgiveness that Jesus gives to us.

And WOW. I Know that I have just as many, if not more, sins that I have committed against other people.

I know that I am a hypocrite.

Even as I write this? The anger is dissipating as I allow the Truth to wash over me.

Yes he needs consequences, but more than that? He needs love and forgiveness. He needs to have a human experience of a Christ-like love that is so unconditional that it leads him to Christ himself.

If I, as a Christian (a representative of Christ’s name) is not acting like that same name I represent, how will the world… how will my brother-in-law see that the love of God is SO much better, bigger, and greater than any other love you will ever find.

And how will he thirst for a relationship with Jesus if he never sees how life-altering it can be?

Forgive me, Jesus.

And I guess this turned into a Manna Monday, afterall.