Tunes That Tame the Torture

I don't know about you, but I've been having an issue with keeping myself motivated lately - motivated to exercise, clean the house, keep things organized, etc. I browbeat myself into cleaning my bathroom today, and put on my headphones to listen to some songs I'd thrown together for workouts. Music always helps my moods - whether I need to calm down or get fired up. So I thought I'd share some of the songs I listen to when I'm working out or cleaning the house or generally need to get off my rear and get moving. For that, I need energy, speed, fierce beats, and attitude. I think all these songs have that in spades. Some of them I love because of the lyrics, and some in spite of them. Maybe you'll find one or two that you like and want to add to your "Get Moving!" collection, too. Enjoy!

This song by Rollins Band has been a favorite of mine since high school. It's great for those days when you just don't feel like getting out of bed or off the couch and going outside, or getting those chores done. I even like listening to it when I'm not working out, because it reminds me that life is short and you need to make the most of the time you've been given.

This Soundgarden song is another high school favorite. The crazy fast beat and relentless guitar are great for when you're going all out and don't think you can move your arms or legs one...more...time. I also like it for interval training, because it switches from super fast to very slow towards the end - a great cool-down period. And hey, if it was cool enough for Johnny Cash to cover...?




As for this next song, can you think of a better one to jump rope to?




Republica's "Ready to Go" (the US Mix) is also great for when you're going all out - spinning, running, or even scrubbing the shower pan! :-)




Love me some Beastie Boys, too...




I love this Black Eyed Peas tune - it just seems to take the torture out of working out. How can you possibly sit still while you're listening to this?




Okay...I gotta go get ready to work out! :-)

Is There Anybody Out There?

Or: Where have all the good men gone?

I'm feeling a tad philosophical (translation: whiny) tonight, and lucky you - you get to read all about it!

Seriously, though, after taking a most relaxing and refreshing break from even thinking about dating, the same tired old questions are back...

Why does the trend among singles in church appear to be that NO ONE is asking anyone out?

Where are the Christian single men at my church? They can't ALL have suddenly gone on a mission trip to a hut in Africa somewhere.

And my favorite...What's wrong with me?

That last one is the easiest for me to answer (isn't it always, ladies?). Sometimes I worry that a single Christian guy looks at me and sees someone who is "tainted" or "untouchable" in certain ways. I've been married before, so a guy who's holding out hope for a girl "pure as the driven snow" won't find it with me. I already have children and I'm approaching my late thirties, so most guys probably assume (and QUITE RIGHTLY, may I add!) that I'm not too jazzed about the idea of starting from scratch and having another baby with them. I didn't become a Christian until I was in my mid-twenties, so - GASP! - I have a past. Not a particularly horrific, sordid one, but a past nonetheless. I have tattoos - three, to be exact. Soon to be two if the laser treatments do their job they way I'm hoping. All in all, I don't fit the June Cleaver mold that the majority of single Christian guys seem to want (or were taught they should want).

As far as the other questions go, the answers don't come as readily. I could blame the fact that no one seems to be dating on Joshua Harris and/or Elisabeth Elliot. But while I do lay a good chunk of the blame at the feet of the "courting-good, dating-BAD" philosophy, that's just too simplistic. I think a lot of it boils down to fear - fear of rejection, fear of gossip, fear of "pooping where you eat" for lack of a better phrase...basically the same fears everyone - Christian or not - faces. I also think there's a certain amount of laziness cloaked in spiritual-sounding gobbledegook, and it goes something like this: "I'm just trusting God to bring someone into my life, someone perfect for me and who meets every single one of the requirements in the twenty-page checklist I keep in my bedside drawer. After all, He only wants THE BEST for me. So I'm just going to sit here trusting and waiting for him/her to fall from the sky straight into my lap." Kinda nice how that way of thinking abdicates someone from any and all responsibilities to get out there and meet new people, take a chance, and maybe be (just a little!) proactive, huh? "Well, I never got married or had any meaningful relationships with anyone of the opposite sex because God chose to never smack me upside the head with him/her while I was home watching 'Shark Week' on Discovery..."

And I don't know if the situation is any different at other churches, but the species "single Christian male" seems to have been hunted to the point of extinction at mine. And boy, I'll bet they FEEL hunted, too! One of the main reasons I haven't considered attending a singles community at my church (other than the fact that I love the friends I've made in my current community) is the desire to avoid the "meat market" mentality so prevalent in many church singles groups. And let's be honest, single ladies, it's no wonder guys run for cover when we act like a cup of coffee or a movie equates to a committed relationship!

Basically, all this rambling is to say I just don't get it...and I doubt the Relationship Fairy will leave all the answers underneath my pillow tonight. So it truly is a wonderful thing that I (and all my fellow Christian singles out there) have a God who really does know and sympathize with the deepest yearnings of our hearts, and who loves us more perfectly than any husband or wife ever could.

Boring Financial Stuff Made A Little More Interesting

While I was sitting in the waiting room at the dentist's office the other day, I read an interesting article about one woman's philosophy on money management and personal finance. It at least partially redeemed the half-hour I spent waiting past my scheduled appointment time. I just wish I knew how to use graphics so I could make this blog entry look as cool as the article. Anyway...

This woman's take on overspending, budgeting, and prioritizing seemed at first oversimplified and vague, but the further along I read, the more I realized that it actually is a profoundly useful system that requires us to really examine what we consider necessary in our lives. She assigned every potential purchase to one of four categories as follows:

1) NEED IT AND LOVE IT

2) NEED IT BUT DON'T LOVE IT

3) LOVE IT BUT DON'T NEED IT

4) DON'T LOVE IT AND DON'T NEED IT

Categories 1 and 2 receive the top priority, since both include things that we need. We buy these things before anything in categories 3 or 4. Examples of things in category 1 would be a great-fitting new winter coat in a favorite color to replace our old one that's worn out, or a replacement tube of our favorite lipstick (yes, guys, that is a legitimate NEED, and don't try to tell us differently, especially if we haven't had our chocolate yet!). Category 2 would be things like auto insurance, gas for our car, the utility bill, etc.

Whatever money we have left over after paying for the things we need can be devoted to the things we love. The woman referenced in the article would seriously stop and examine every potential purchase in these two categories, and she ONLY bought something if she absolutely loved it. Meaning, she wouldn't settle for the shoes that were on sale for 40% off but weren't exactly the color she was looking for. Or settle for the dark chocolate Godiva bar when what she really wanted was milk chocolate. (I know, I know - who cares? It's freaking GODIVA, right? But I digress...) And if she could ever place an item in category 4, she never bought it at all. EVER.

For those of us (like me) who are number-crunching, what's-the-bottom-line kind of people, an approach like that can seem a little hinkey. But she said prioritizing what she bought according to what she needed, then loved, freed her from becoming a slave to a house full of just "stuff" that sat around gathering dust and never getting used. She probably has fewer clothes in her closet than most of us, but every item is a favorite. She is surrounded by things she genuinely loves, and nothing she doesn't. And she actually found she spent much less money than if she focused solely on the dollar amount of a purchase: "Oh, it's on sale and I have the money - I should just get it while I can." How many of us have done just that, and regretted it later?

Obviously, more planning than just this should go into a personal financial strategy. We have to make a budget so we know how much money we have available to spend on those things we need and love. And we should always strive to find the best value for our dollar on non-negotiables like mortgages, insurance, and food. But I liked this woman's way of dealing with the leftover dollars in a way that held her accountable for the reasons behind her purchases, without sucking all the fun out of her life.

I think I'll try her method for a month and see if it makes a difference in not just my wallet, but my happiness and peace of mind. Anyone else game?

AWESOME Place for Swim Lessons

If you have young children and you're anything like me, you're dreading yet another round of $35 a pop swim lessons where 10-15 kids are crammed together into a 40-minute lesson run by a teenager who looks like they'd rather be playing Doom on their X-Box. My kids have been through I don't know how many rounds of lessons like this at rec centers around the city, and they've learned virtually nothing. So this summer I decided to search around for a more private alternative.

That's how I stumbled upon Donna's Dolphins.

The owner, Donna, runs private and semi-private lessons out of an indoor pool attached to her home. She also has other instructors who work for her. We met with Donna last night so that Tyler and Sydney could each have a half-hour trial lesson with her and see if we liked it.

We LOVED it. I don't know how she did it, but in the space of a half-hour, BOTH Tyler and Sydney made more progress than in almost all of the other lessons they've had combined. When Sydney first got in the pool, she didn't even want to put her face in the water to blow bubbles. But by the end of her half-hour, she was launching herself across the width of the pool, head down, kicking and blowing bubbles like she'd been doing it for years. And Tyler was floating on her back and flipping over on her tummy, doing the backstroke, and even starting freestroke at the end of her half hour. I sat at the edge of the pool with my jaw hanging open for the whole hour. "Stunned" doesn't begin to describe my reaction to their progress. I was flabbergasted. When it was Tyler's turn, Sydney wanted to stay in the pool and retrieve toys off the bottom.

Her pool is bright and friendly, with lots of toys and inflatables for kids to play around with (after they've done their lessons, of course). The environment is positive without being wishy-washy on correct swim techniques. And I liked the fact that they got right down to the business of learning swim techniques while still making it fun. One of the things that irritated me about the rec center lessons was it seemed like I was paying $35 to watch the kids play around in the water for the first 20 minutes.

At the end of their lesson, I asked both of them if they wanted to learn to swim at Donna's, and they both screamed, "Yeah!". I signed them up that same night.

Donna's Dolphins is not cheap, but when I added up all the money I've spent on lesson after lesson (sometimes repeating the same class level because the girls didn't pass the first or even second time) I figure I've already spent more than what I would have if I'd just known about Donna's Dolphins in the first place.

Anyway, if you're looking for a good place for your kids to learn solid swim techniques in a friendly environment, I highly recommend Donna's Dolphins. Check them out at www.donnasdolphins.com.

*Disclaimer* I am NOT being paid for this blog entry in any way. I was just so impressed by how well Tyler and Sydney took to it that I had to write something.

Just Because I Haven't Said Anything to Offend Anyone Yet Today

Boy, I'm probably going to be stepping in it with this post. Because on this issue, everyone seems to have an opinion - a STRONG opinion - one way or the other. And that would include me. I hope my comments come across as less sanctimonious/reactionary than the decidedly un-Christian things I've heard said in recent days.

I'm talking about Ted Haggard. Specifically, about he and his wife establishing a new church here in Colorado Springs. The two of them were interviewed on KVOR this morning, and it was an interview that made me sit up and pay attention.

I'll be the first to admit, the Bible states very clearly that no one but God Himself knows what's truly in another person's heart. And I'm in no way meaning to come off as more holy, more noble, or more deserving of God's grace than another person. But several things were said (and left unsaid) in the interview that have been nagging at me all day.

I don't question Mr. Haggard's desire to return to preaching or help hurting people, but I do seriously question his spiritual readiness to do so. Throughout the interview, he made frequent references to his "mistakes" and that he was "sorry" for what he had done, for hurting his family and nearly tearing his church apart. That's all fine and good, and he should be sorry for those things. Sorry BIG TIME. But he never acknowledged his actions as "sins" or "sinful", and never at any point did he mention that he had confessed those sins to God or repented of them. I don't remember either of those two words being uttered once in the entire interview, and that bothers me. There's a big difference between being sorry for your sins and repenting of them. I know - I catch myself blurring that line (or trying to) on a frequent basis.

James 3:1 says, "Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you know that we who teach will be judged with greater strictness." And that's exactly the problem - Ted Haggard was a teacher of God's Word. Since he is held to a higher standard than the general population, it's all the more important that he emphasize things like genuine repentance from sin when he messes up. I just didn't get that from him. I also found it ironic that he named his new church (meeting at his home) St. James Church, because of the book of James's "loving support" for people who have messed up. Um, excuse me, but has he READ the book of James lately?

Maybe this is the Presbyterian in me, but I'm concerned about his return to the pulpit in large part because said return seems to be largely determined by Ted Haggard and Ted Haggard alone. He's apparently "decided" that he's been in the doghouse long enough. Where is the oversight? Is he in any kind of accountability group or under the authority of men who can vouch for his spiritual renewal following such a tremendous fall? Shouldn't there be some hoops for him to jump through?

At one point, the interviewer (I think it was Jeff Crank) asked him basically point-blank about whether Haggard thinks the existence of evil played any role in Haggard succumbing to temptation. I wish I could remember the exact wording of the question, because it was brilliant. He was handing Haggard the opportunity to share the gospel on a silver platter, and Haggard didn't take advantage of it. No mention was made about Christ paying for our sins with his blood on the cross. In fact, he skirted the issue. I have to wonder what kind of pastor wouldn't use every opportunity he could (especially one like a radio interview that reaches tens of thousands of people) to spread the gospel - after all, that's his JOB.

Okay, I'd better stop while I have my foot inserted only halfway into my mouth. I'm trying really hard not to cross the line between a careful discerner of someone's actions and words, and a holier-than-thou busybody who thinks I've got someone I don't even know all figured out.

What's your opinion of Ted Haggard's return to the pulpit?

The Dumbest Thing Said to Me in Recent Memory, and What I Learned from It

So here's an excerpt from the email that put the proverbial nail in the internet dating coffin for me (I promise this will be the last time I complain about internet dating, and my story does have a larger purpose than just to criticize this guy):

"Karate, huh? You'll never get a man to marry you if he thinks you can beat him up. LOL"

Ha ha. Hee hee. Ho ho. Ha. Ha. Haaaaa.

After I picked myself up off the floor and the debilitating stomach cramps from my rounds of raucous laughter at his incredibly witty comment had subsided, I started to get angry. I read his comment again, saying to myself, "Oh, no, he di-in't!" If I remember right, there might've even been a little head- and finger-wagging to go along with it. In my head, I was ranting to this clueless idiot how if a man can't handle a woman learning how to defend herself and her children then he's no man at all and he can just take his stupid comment and shove it up-

But then it occurred to me...didn't me being pissed off at this guy mean that, at least on some level, I cared what he thought of me? That I felt like I had to justify myself to a complete and total stranger, even if it was only in my head? Nah, it couldn't mean that...COULD IT?

The thought sent a chill down my spine, and got me wondering how many times I've been guilty of stifling myself (sorry, just had an Archie Bunker flashback for a second) because of fear of what other people might say or think of me. Some of the results aren't pretty (but they are pretty pathetic):

The shoes that are so hideously ugly I think they're cool, that I wore once and then hid them in the back of my closet because a couple of people looked at them funny.

I love to sing along with the radio in my car and tap out the beat on my steering wheel, but I won't do it at a stoplight because I don't want the people in the cars next to me to think I'm a wacko.

I don't like telling people who aren't very close friends what my book/short story ideas are about, because I'm afraid they'll think I'm a SERIOUS wacko.

My instinctive tendency when I see people looking at me for more than a second or two to think, "What? OMGosh, do I have something in my teeth? Did I suddenly become hideously disfigured on my way here from the car? Did I grow a camel hump on my back? It's got to be something bad, otherwise why is that person LOOKING at me?"

Blah blah blah...you get the point. As much as I hate to admit it, Idiot Internet Guy brought a muddy issue into sharp focus for me. For that, I guess I should thank him. *Ahem* "Thanks a lot, you-"

I care too much about what people think. Specifically, I care too much about what people think regarding things that SHOULDN'T MATTER AT ALL. Of course I should care whether I just stomped on someone's feelings like I did to the spider I once found in my bathtub, or whether I'm backsliding into sin quicker than Picabo Street slaloms down the side of a mountain (insert worried fidgeting that people will find my name-dropping pretentious). But what I look like while I'm singing in the car, whether my enjoyment of karate really is a turn-off to men, whether my lipstick is too red, etc, etc - are those things really worth hanging my hat on?

The last time I checked, there was no 11th commandment in the Bible that reads, "Thou shalt not wear Doc Marten mary janes with tiny pink and purple flowers on them." And I'm pretty sure that His opinion is the only one that really matters in the end.

I Kissed Internet Dating Goodbye

I give up. On internet dating, that is.

I've read all the articles, even a couple of books, that dispense advice on how to attract the type of person you're looking for online and repel the ones you're not. I took notes, followed the suggestions to the letter (and for the most part they are good suggestions) but in my experience they just don't work in the real world.

I have friends who have met their spouses (or soon-to-be spouses) online, and I couldn't be happier for them. Maybe they have more patience than I do...in fact, that's a distinct possibility :-). Myself, I am dog-tired of being emailed and "winked" at by men with whom I have no more in common than a duck-billed platypus (like the guy who "rides to live and lives to ride" his Harley - how much time do you wanna bet he spent actually READING what I'd taken the time to write?). It's insulting. And I am equally dog-tired of the men I have taken the initiative and sent a brief "hello" email to blatantly ignoring me.

Overall, my internet dating experience leads me to believe that cyberspace has become the new corner bar - a place where 99.99% of the people there aren't looking for REAL love and commitment, but something that's much more likely to land them at the free clinic.

Good luck to all of you out there still giving internet dating the old college try, but I think I'll go back to the old-fashioned way from here on out. It may drastically lower the sheer number of men I come into contact with, but I'll trade volume for quality any day of the week.

Love Songs (guys, feel free to zone out now)

I was thinking earlier today about some of my favorite love songs. I don't know what prompted this train of thought - maybe the longings, frustrations, disappointments, and general wackiness I've experienced so far in my return to the dating scene. Or maybe I've just seen one to many chick flicks lately.

Some of them are what everyone would recognize as a love song, some maybe not. Some deal with love between friends, some with the anguish that comes when love dies or is dying, some with God's love for us and our response to it. The list is eclectic, to say the least. Here's a sample of what rattled around in my head when I thumbed through my cd's and my iPod earlier today:

"In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel. This would have to be my number-one pick. And since I wrote a whole blog post devoted solely to this song, I won't bore you by babbling on about it here.

"Come Talk to Me" by Peter Gabriel. This song perfectly expresses the pain and frustration we feel when our loved one would rather retreat into a corner and let the relationship die than communicate with us and move towards healing. His vocals are so moving and powerful, they hit me dead-center whenever I listen to this one.

"She's a Rainbow" by The Rolling Stones. I just love this quirky, disjointed, sweet song. And that piano riff can always put a smile on my face. "Have you seen her all in gold?/Like a queen in days of old/Spinning colors all around/Like a sunset going down/Have you seen a lady fairer?" ... what woman wouldn't want to be described like that?

"Thank You" by Led Zeppelin. Zep rules. And so does this song. Enough said. :-)

"For Elise" by Beethoven. I know there are no words to this piece, but it strikes me as a love song all the same. When I listen to it and pay attention to the changes, I can almost see this woman's essence - her stately beauty, her laugh, even the way she dances. This man's talent is so incredible it's almost scary.

"Next To You" by The Police. I used to listen to this song all the time in college when I was in a long-distance relationship, head-over-heels for the guy and heartsick that I couldn't see him but once every few months. "What can I do?/All I want is to be next to you"...yeah, that was me.

"When I Think Of You" by Janet Jackson. This song always makes me feel good when I hear it, and puts a spring in my step. I'm a fan of the "tortured" ballad (see "Come Talk To Me" above) but sometimes I just want to hear a love song where the person is so happy they can't help but sing about it. This one fits the bill perfectly.

"Closer" by Dido. Her voice is so freaky-good and so perfect for this song. "The closer you get/The better I feel/The closer you are/The more I see/Why everyone says/That I look happier/When you're around" - that to me is what being in love is like.

"Ain't No Other Man" by Christina Aguilera. Normally I can't stand her, but when this song came out I loved it the first time I heard it. It's perfect for her powerful voice, too - gutsy, brash, and utterly unapologetic. "Ain't no other man can stand up next to you/Ain't no other man on the planet does what you do"...How many guys would love for a woman to think of them when they listen to this song?

"Umbrella" by Rihanna. I know she's singing this song to a guy (hopefully NOT Chris Brown anymore!) but whenever I hear it I think of my friends. I think of the loyalty and strength they've shown me as they've walked with me through some of the worst crapstorms of my life, and how I would do exactly the same for them.

"Amazing Grace" by John Newton. There are so many tremendous hymns and praise songs that I could go on for pages and pages, but this one is and always will be my favorite. I would call it a love song because it beautifully expresses not only God's love for us (shown by the unfathomable gift of His grace) but our (albeit imperfect) love for Him and our gratitude towards Him that this love inspires.

What about you guys? What are some of your favorite love songs, and why?

Truth, Lies, and the Best Song of the Eighties

"love I get so lost, sometimes
days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
when I want to run away
I drive off in my car
but whichever way I go
I come back to the place you are

all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside

in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
the heat I see in your eyes

love, I don't like to see so much pain
so much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired of working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive

and all my instincts, they return
and the grand facade, so soon will burn
without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside

in your eyes
the light the heat
in your eyes
I am complete
in your eyes
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
in your eyes
the resolution of all the fruitless searches
in your eyes
I see the light and the heat
in your eyes
oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light,
the heat I see in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes
in your eyes in your eyes"

Joking references to John Cusack holding the boombox over his head in "Say Anything" aside, I think this song by Peter Gabriel is the most eloquent, touching, and powerful love song ever written. To me, it encapsulates how we feel when we truly love someone, why we work so hard to find and keep that kind of love, and why it hurts so much when love ends (for whatever reason). It perfectly describes the deep-seated need in all of us to have one special person we can be vulnerable with, and who will let us in, let us "touch the light, the heat" we see in their eyes.

As I was listening to this song the other day, something occurred to me: I've been lying to myself. When I decided I was ready to start dating again, I told myself that all I wanted was to meet people, go out, and have fun. I convinced myself that I didn't want anything more than that - after all, I've never really had a period in my life where I just "had fun" going out. I was always either in a relationship with someone, or alone. I told myself that I was completely okay with meeting someone, liking them, but just "dating" them with no intentions of moving in a more serious direction for who knew how long.

Well, I did meet someone, I did start to like them, and even though I knew it was nothing exclusive or serious, got hurt a little anyway when he turned out to be not who he said he was.

And then Peter Gabriel had to come along and slap me upside the head with his awesomeness. If I really didn't care, if in my heart of hearts I wasn't secretly wishing for the connection that is the "resolution to all the fruitless searches", then why was I upset when this guy dropped me like a hot potato to be with someone else? Hmmm... I guess I am just not wired to be one of those people who can "go out" with several different people at a time and not be serious about any of them. I'm not wired to "have fun" (okay that sounds bad, but if you've read this far without gagging yourself you get my meaning) but to want closeness, to want intimacy, to want exclusivity with someone. I finally understood that that is why, all my adult life, I've either been in a serious relationship or alone. For me, there's no in-between.

That's not to say that as soon as I meet someone, I'm picking out china patterns. Just that whenever I've dated someone I could usually tell early on if he was someone I wanted to get more serious about. And the ones I didn't feel that way towards, I stopped seeing, because in my mind what was the point of continuing?

So it feels good to stop trying to convince myself that I want something I really don't. And to not settle for less than I (and my children) deserve. Thanks for the unintended moment of clarity, Peter Gabriel. You rock, and you always will.

44 Things

44 ODD Things about you!
Learn 44 things about your friends, and let them learn 44 things about
you!

1. Do you like blue cheese? Love it
2. Have you ever been drunk? Yes
3. Do you own a gun? Duh, I'm from Texas - YES
4. What flavor of Kool Aid was your favorite? Never really liked Kool Aid
5. Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? No
6. What do you think of hot dogs? Kind of gross and kind of good at the same time
7. Favorite Christmas movie? A Christmas Story
8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Coffee
9. Can you do push ups? Yes
10. What's your favorite piece of jewelry? My rings with Tyler & Sydney's birthstones in them
11. Favorite hobby? crochet
12. Do you have A.D.D.? Sometimes I think so
13. What's your favorite shoe? high heels, even though most of them hurt my feet; Converse All Star high tops are a close second
14. Middle name? Kathleen
15. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment? I've got to pick up the girls in 45 minutes; I wonder what movie is next on my Netflix list; can't wait to go to karate tonight
16. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink? Coffee, diet soda, any flavor Naked juice
17. Current worry? whether I'm being lied to/played
18. Current hate right now? guessing games
19. Krispy Kreme, Dunkin', or Timmy Ho's? Krispy Kreme all the way, baby!
20. How did you bring in the New Year? At my friend Gina's house playing board games and drinking wine
21. Where would you like to go? A better question is where wouldn't I?
22. Name three people who will complete this? no idea
23. Do you own slippers? no
24. What color shirt are you wearing right now? White
25. Do you like sleeping on Satin sheets? No - too slippery
26. Can you whistle? Yes
27. Favorite color? Yellow
28. Would you be a pirate? No - not a big fan of rotten teeth and scurvy
29. What songs do you sing in the shower? I don't
30. Favorite Girl's Name? Brynn
31. Favorite boy's name? Ethan
32. What's in your pocket right now? Nothing
33. Last thing that made you laugh? A comment from a friend on facebook.
34. Best bed sheets as a child? I don't remember my childhood besheets.
35. Worst injury you've ever had as a child? My neighbor stepped on my big toe and ripped the toenail off.
36. Do you love where you live? YES.
37. Revenge of the Nerds or Fast Times at Ridgemont High? Revenge of the Nerds
38. Who is your loudest friend? My SIL Terri :-)
39. How many dogs do you have? Zero
40. Does someone have a crush on you? I have no idea, but wish I knew if anyone did
41. What is your favorite book? Too many to choose from
42. What is your favorite candy? As long as it has chocolate and no coconut, I'm good.
43. Favorite Sports Team? Couldn't care less about sports.
44. What song do you want played at your funeral? Amazing Grace, Oh Love That Will Not Let Me Go

Vampires in Sweden? Who knew?

Last night I was trying to decide between going to bed early and watching a movie, and settled on the movie. I'd stumbled across what looked like an unusual and potentially interesting one on Netflix - a Swedish horror film called "Let the Right One In." It was available to watch instantly, so I got my fuzzy robe on and settled in to give it a try. Now, I know what you're thinking: "Wow, she spends her Saturday nights in a fuzzy bathrobe, watching movies with subtitles? This chick has got it goin' ON! I have GOT to hang out with her!" Get in line.

I'm a sucker for a good scary movie. And I'm fascinated by legends and myths of fairies, werewolves, vampires, and other things that "go bump in the night". The problem is, these kinds of stories have been told so many times it's hard to find one with a truly fresh and original perspective. (If anyone sitting here reading this is thinking, "Um, what about 'Twilight'? - smack yourself in the head. Hard.) Anyway, the cover art of this Swedish movie promised me "A vampire tale like no other" and said it would be "mesmerizing". Sounded cool to me.

Here's the lowdown: 12-year-old Oskar is an outcast, bullied by his classmates, with no friends and no one who understands him. Enter Eli, the girl who moves in next door with an older man one is led to believe is her grandfather or some other such relative. Oskar and Eli slowly become friends, and she helps Oskar stand up to the kids making his life miserable. Oh, yeah...along the way he finds out she's a vampire who's responsible (directly and indirectly) for several murders in and around their small village.

The movie itself felt like almost all of the other foreign films I've seen: plenty of silences, punctuated only by panoramic stretches of bleak and depressing landscapes. Characters who do nothing but stare off into space for inordinately long periods of time with vacant expressions on their faces. Characters who wear horrifically mismatched clothes and look like they cut their hair with a weed whacker. Tiny, cramped kitchens filled with dishes and utensils so old and dingy you'd think anyone eating off them would wind up in the hospital on a ventilator. But I digress...

What surprised me about this movie wasn't the movie itself, but the reviews on Netflix posted by other people. One in particular stood out to me: "It's a touching story about loneliness and falling in love with someone who fills the hole in your heart. I was moved beyond my ability to articulate it into words."

When I finished the movie I went back to Netflix and re-read this review and some of the others that echoed its sentiments. After I finished shaking my head in dumbfounded amazement, I checked myself in the mirror for a second head or something. Because "love story" was NOT what I took away from this movie AT ALL. I wondered if I was the only one who saw it differently - if maybe my overly-developed sense of cynicism had finally gotten the better of me.

When I looked at Eli, I didn't see a sweet, innocent "girl" who is merely lonely and looking for a friend who will accept her for who and what she is. I saw a manipulator and a user. By the end of the movie it becomes clear that the older man she lives with has been with her for a long, LONG time - perhaps since he was Oskar's age. He sacrifices himself to feed her hunger, and she watches him plummet to his death without the slightest trace of emotion on her face. I viewed her growing "friendship" with Oskar as nothing more than a screening process - a way for her to figure out if he would be a suitable replacement for the man who, up until he almost got caught, had taken care of her and done all her dirty work. Eli's encouraging Oskar to stand up to the bullies at his school seemed like "priming the pump" of his latent violent tendencies. She would need Oskar to find and dispatch victims for her, just as the old man had before him. Why should she risk getting caught when she can manipulate someone else into committing murder for her? The one and only time she gets upset at someone's death is when she's forced to do the deed herself because the old man screwed up.

I was completely floored that the reviewers chose to overlook the obvious signs of sociopathy and narcissism in these characters. If people think "Let The Right One In" is a love story, then I sure would like to know what their definition of a dysfunctional relationship is!

Though the more important question probably is, why did I spend all this time blogging about an obscure, mediocre foreign film that no one else I know will probably ever see? I guess I'm just cool like that.

Cool Recipe

Here's a great recipe that my mom found in a newspaper article and sent to me. It combines two of my favorite food-related things: it's super-easy, and it's at least peripherally Greek. I hate to cook, so the easy part hooked me right away. And I'll eat anything that sounds like it comes from within 100 miles of the Mediterranean. It's got a touch of tanginess (thanks to some lemon juice and goat cheese) and the chickpeas give the texture some variety. It literally took me about ten minutes to make, and 8 of that was boiling the orzo. If you've never heard of orzo, it's not rice - it's a form of pasta made from wheat (sorry to my gluten-free friends, I haven't quite been able to make myself jump on the bandwagon yet) and you can find it in the spaghetti aisle. Though be warned - I had to look hard to find it. Anyway, here's the recipe; give it a try sometime for a nice change of pace and a cheap, easy side dish:

1.5 cups uncooked orzo

1/4 cup olive oil

3 tablespoons lemon juice

1 clove garlic, minced

15 oz can chickpeas, drained

2 tablespoons chopped fresh oregano

Salt and pepper to taste

5 oz log goat cheese, crumbled

Bring a large saucepan of lightly salted water to a boil. Add orzo and cook, stirring occasionally, until just tender (about 8 minutes). Drain the orzo and set aside. In a large bowl, whisk together the olive oil, lemon juice, and garlic. Add the chickpeas, orzo, and oregano. Toss to combine. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Gently stir in the goat cheese. *Can be served warm or at room temperature.

Outed by a Baby Elephant

I'm a total sap. For some of you this may come as a surprise, but the people reading this who know me well are probably thinking, "Well, DUH!" I cry at movies, TV shows, and even sometimes a commercial if it's cute and the time of the month is right.

So while Disney on Ice was great, and the girls had a wonderful time, there was a part of me that felt disappointed when my favorite Disney character did not make an appearance.

I wanted to see Dumbo, darn it!

I think Dumbo is just about the sweetest movie I've ever seen. And I knew instantly why I loved it so much. The two main figures in Dumbo's life, his mother and his little mouse friend, loved him instantly and unconditionally. Mrs. Jumbo didn't care a whit how big his ears were, she just recognized him for the gift from God that he was and accepted him just the way he came to her. And as a child who was mercilessly teased when I was younger, I've gotta love the way she put those snotty older elephants in their place when they made fun of her son. To me, she typifies God's love for us, His people. We come into the world misshapen, broken, and deformed by sin, and He chooses to love us anyway. He loves us no matter what we look like, what our talents or abilities are, and no matter what other people say or think. There's just about no more touching scene in the history of film than when Mrs. Jumbo gathers Dumbo against her trunk, gently rocks him, and sings, "Baby of Mine." It makes me cry. Every. Single. Time.

And the mouse (whose name escapes me right now - haven't had enough coffee, I guess. I think it might be Timothy, so I'll go with that.) offers Dumbo friendship with no expectations of anything in return. He gives support, encouragement, and company when no one else wanted anything to do with him. Now THAT'S my definition of a true friend.

In contrast to that, I'm reminded of Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, a story I've always disliked, even when I was little. The song gives it away: "THEN how the reindeer loved him..." The other reindeer only started being nice to Rudolph after he did something for them, after he made their life more convenient in some way. I never understood why other kids and adults seemed to love that song so much. I guess my cynicism was born at a truly early age! I never liked any of those "other reindeer" because even at 5 years old, I knew their friendship wasn't genuine. As soon as Rudolph stopped being useful, I thought they'd all drop him like a hot potato.

But not Timothy. Dumbo was of no use to him whatsoever. Indeed, he was probably a hindrance if Timothy had been concerned about "getting along" with everyone else. That's the only kind of friend worth having, in my book.

I'm glad that Disney never made a "Dumbo II". (Or if they have, that I've never heard of it.) I think that would ruin the tenderness and wonder of this deceptively simple story.

I wonder if I can get "Baby of Mine" on my iPod? *Sniff, sniff...*

Wading Back Into the Dating Pool

It feels strange to be writing about dating again. Not bad-strange, just...well, strange-strange. After all, I haven't "dated" anyone other than Craig in twelve years. The prospect is exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time. But I'm ready to give it a go.

The one major source of trepidation I'd been feeling lately regarding dating had to do with how Tyler and Sydney would take it. I'd been searching for a way to talk to them about it for a few weeks now, when an opportunity presented itself just the other night. We were driving home from karate and Tyler started asking me all kinds of questions about past boyfriends I've had. So I slipped the question in as casually as I could: "Hey girls, how would you feel about me going out on dates?" and held my breath. Because in spite of my desire to meet someone new, I'd already decided that if my doing so would cause either one of them pain, I would hold off. To my surprise (and great relief) they were all for it. Tyler even said, "I think it's a great idea!"

So now I find myself back out there, filled with all the same questions and concerns as lots of other single women my age: Where do I meet a quality man? Is it acceptable for a woman to make the first move if she meets a man she's attracted to? Why do there seem to be tons of great single women at my church, but barely enough single men to fill a Toyota Prius? Does this mean I have to start wearing makeup to the grocery store again? Is it really true that all the good men are already taken? (I have to believe the answer to that last question is no; otherwise I might as well bang my head repeatedly against the nearest brick wall.)

While it would be nice to meet someone face-to-face, in the real world, I'm giving the internet a try as well. Because I'm not naive enough to think that dating in the real world works out like it does in the movies, where a girl "just happens" to meet a fantastic guy through no effort on her part and the two of them fall madly in love, move to a rent-controlled loft in Soho and buy a puppy. And internet dating has exploded so much in recent years that I have to believe there's at least one guy online at any given time who isn't a total loser, just like I'm not a total loser. (I do have my brick wall handy, though.)

I'm so glad I don't feel that silent, creeping sense of desperation I did in my early twenties - that I had to have a man in order to feel complete. God has filled that hole in my life quite nicely. So this time around I feel much more relaxed about the whole thing. I'm not in any hurry to get married again, though I would love to if the Lord chooses to bless me in that way. For right now, I'm content with meeting new people, getting to know them, and really taking the time to decide whether someone is Mr. Right, or merely Mr. Right Now.

Diary of a Crappy Mom

So we were driving home from church today (church, mind you, where I just spent an hour and a half singing praises to God and listening to His word) and Sydney all of a sudden just started crying in the backseat. I braced myself - or thought I did, anyway - because I knew what was coming.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

What followed was a tearful litany of how some boy in her Sunday school class pushed her, and a girl cut in line in front of her, and Tyler pushed her out of the way at the water fountain when she was thirsty and on and on and on and on. An updated version of her "everybody be's mean to me" speech.

So what did I, the understanding and ever-patient mother do? Did I offer words of comfort and understanding, pull the car over and give her a big "mommy-loves-you" hug? No.

I lost it. Totally.

This will probably sound like an excuse, but I need to give some background here. This kind of reaction is not a result of what happened to her father. She's been doing things like this ever since she could talk. I don't know why, but Sydney has always misinterpreted things that other kids do and say. She assumes every accident is a personal attack. She assumes that everyone hates her. She takes the slightest little incident and blows it up into monumental proportions - I've personally witnessed at least a dozen of these little "situations". This frustrates me to no end, because when EVERYTHING is horrible, and EVERYBODY is mean, it's hard to sort out the real bullies from the kids who are just standing there scratching their heads wondering, "What did I do?"

When I've asked her in the past what kids did to her that was so mean, all I usually get is, "I don't remember." That, and a daughter with major attitude for a good three hours. I've found it impossible to get to the bottom of what's really going on, or why she feels like everyone is ganging up on her.

Fast forward to today...when I heard her start to complain about "everyone be's mean to me" yet again, something snapped inside of me. We're driving down Powers and I proceed to lecture her (yell at her?) - a SIX-YEAR-OLD, mind you - with helpful little gems like this:

"You've got to stop assuming that the entire world is out to get you, because it just isn't true!"

"Do you want to have friends? Because if you do, you've got to stop treating other kids like they're always mean to you."

"What about your friends Liza and Mia? Are they 'mean to you'? No..."

And my personal favorite: "So what if that boy knocked into you on purpose? Maybe it's his problem - maybe he's just a jerk. Why can't you just get over it?"

Of course, when we got home I took her aside and apologized to her, but that still doesn't make my behavior okay. Last time I looked in the mirror, I was the one with the gray hairs, not Sydney. That would make me the adult. Chronologically speaking, anyway.

Some days I feel stretched so thin that I can barely keep my head together enough to get them ready for school and their lunches made. So when along comes crap like this, I just don't know where to put it. Or what to do. Nothing I've ever said to her changes her mind. No encouragement, no pep talk, nothing. It feels like she is bound and determined to believe that everyone on the planet hates her guts, and I am at a complete and total loss. Do I wait until she "grows out of it" as it's been suggested to me that she will? I don't know if my sanity will hold out that long.

I wish I knew the source of her behavior, but she's been like this since forever. Please God don't tell me that this is an inborn trait, a part of her personality that will never grow or change. She's a sweet girl at heart, very generous and empathetic (more so even than Tyler, I think) and I want to see her grow up to have lots of good friends and happy experiences. I hate to see her lock herself away in a cage like this.

Ugh...hopefully there will be no "Diary of a Crappy Mom, Volume II"...

The Side Hug: Legalism At Its Best

Ever since I posted the link of that ridiculous Christian "rap" group on my facebook page, I can't seem to get this topic out of my head, so I'm hoping blogging about it will do the trick.

Disclaimer (a.k.a. "I'm afraid people will stop talking to me if I say what I really think so here's an explanation that will hopefully mollify everyone"): I totally get that there are situations where the side hug is probably the best way to go. Issues with past sexual/physical abuse being the biggest one. Maybe you struggle with lust issues. Maybe your spouse struggles with trust issues. Whatever. I don't want to pass a law making side hugs illegal - side hug away if that's your thing. But I'm speaking generally here, intentionally painting everyone with a broad brush, because otherwise we'd be here all day (and no one wants that, trust me!).

For all my non-Christian friends, let's begin at the beginning. What exactly is a side hug? Instead of standing face-to-face with someone you wish to hug, the two of you stand side-by-side, much like you would if someone were taking your picture. You put your arms around each other's shoulders/waist so that no part of the front of your bodies are touching and hug that way. (Incidentally, there is also what I believe to be a close cousin of the side hug - the "A-frame" or "bottom-out" hug which starts out deceptively similar to a front hug, but where the huggers' pelvises are tilted outwards so nothing touches below the collarbones.)

I know the church didn't invent the side hug, but let's face it, we've elevated it to almost an art form. We say we want to respect the other person's boundaries, avoid any appearance of impropriety, "leave room for the Holy Spirit", etc. All of those are fine motivations in and of themselves. (Except maybe for the "leave room for the Holy Spirit" part - I'm not exactly sure why anyone would think that God needs us to make room for Him. After all, the last time I checked, He still is omnipotent and omnipresent.) However, I have issues with the side hug, and the A-frame hug as well. And since I love making lists...

• As someone commented on this subject in a blog I read...I doubt very seriously that Jesus "side-hugged" anyone during His time here on earth. He embraced them. As in, wrapped His arms around them and gave them a real HUG. And the Bible doesn't tell believers to "greet one another with a holy side hug". It says, "greet one another with a holy kiss". (I'll pause here for the collective gasp of horror and embarrassment.) Everyone back? Okay then. I press on...
• God created us with physical bodies that have real, temporal needs. I'm not talking about sexual needs here, people. I'm talking about affection, comfort, and reassurance. We've all heard about the studies of those baby monkeys who were taken away from their mothers and the only things offered to them for comfort were a wire "mother" or a "mother" covered in soft fuzzy cloth. Guess which one the baby monkeys picked each and every time? People need physical contact with other people. If we don't get it, a part of our spirit shrivels up and dies. I know that sometimes all it's taken to lift me out of a funk is for a friend to give me a genuine embrace.
• Even though I know the other person probably means well, and this might be more a reflection of my own insecurity, there's a part of me that still can't help but feel hurt when someone gives me a side hug. Especially someone I've known for a while. I wonder, "Do I have bad breath? Should I have showered longer? Do they think I have something catching? Am I really that disgusting?" In fact, the A-frame hug messes with my head in this way even worse than the side hug, because at least with a side hug your hips are touching.
• If you love your spouse and everyone knows it, and if you respect the spouse of the person you are hugging and they know it, then what on earth is wrong with a front hug? If you get twisted up into knots over an innocent hug between friends, then I think you need to spend some serious time examining the state of your own heart (or maybe your marriage).
• Christians like to think we're not affected by the way the culture around us sexualizes literally EVERYTHING. But I think the side hug proves that self-righteous confidence dead wrong. We've swung the pendulum so far back the other way that something which for centuries has meant a gesture of simple affection between friends is twisted into a kind of "gateway grope" leading straight down into the pit of hell itself.
• Where do we draw the line? Should smiling at people be banned next? After all, today it's just a smile, but tomorrow it could be tackling someone in the pew and sticking your tongue down their throat while the rest of us try to avert our eyes and not lose our place during "Rock of Ages".
• What about the issue of self-control and personal responsibility? Just because a bowl of m&ms is set before you, does that mean you have no choice but to pour the whole thing into your gaping mouth, dump-truck style? If you give someone a front hug, are your hips automatically rubbed against theirs by some invisible tractor-beam? As a dear male friend of mine pointed out after watching the link I posted, he and I have hugged many times, and never once do either of us recall any grinding going on.

Whew...I feel better now. In closing, I'd like to offer one last word of warning to all my friends, Christian and non-Christian alike: when you see me coming at you, be prepared for a front hug! :-)

Confessions of a Movie Addict

I love movies. They're like legal crack for my mind. One of my favorite things to do is curl up in the dark with a good snack, a warm blanket, and a great movie. I love getting wrapped up in a good story and forgetting the real world for a while.

I've never been creative with any kind of visual medium - painting, sculpture, film, etc. So the complexities involved in turning a bare-bones idea into a finished movie that people will actually pay money to see just boggle my mind. When I think of all the things that have to come together in precisely the perfect way - editing, score, costumes, script, lighting, acting, directing, producing, casting, set design - well, it makes the truly great movies seem all the more impressive.

You name the genre, I'll watch it. Except musicals - they just don't do it for me. Something about total strangers spontaneously breaking into perfectly choreographed song and dance is a stretch for even my vivid imagination. I love movies that make me cry, and movies that make me laugh (though I prefer my comedies the way I do the meat on my chicken - nice and dark). I love movies with deep, philosophical messages that challenge me and lift my eyes above the mundane things of life, and I love movies with bulging muscles where lots of stuff gets blown up. Westerns, science fiction, fantasy (though there's precious few good ones in that genre to go around), horror, drama, chick flicks - I can't get enough. If I really, truly love a movie, I can watch it dozens of times and never get tired of it. When I was in high school, I watched "Ferris Bueller's Day Off" so many times I had every line memorized.

Below are some of my favorite movie lines of all time, in no particular order. Not all of the movies they come from are favorites of mine, and one or two I thought skated the edge of the downright ridiculous. A "shining" example (if you'll pardon the pun) is Shelley Duvall in the movie adaptation of Stephen King's classic book. Her performance almost single-handedly ruined what is otherwise a gloriously frightening and creepy film. Watching her wander the halls of the Overlook hotel all emaciated and with those bulging bug-eyes of hers (it's called hyperthyroidism, Shelley - see a doctor!) was like nails on a chalkboard.

But sometimes a certain line is so cool, the delivery so spot-on, that it sticks with you no matter what you may think about the rest of the film. That's the way I feel about these:

"Show me the money!" - Jerry Maguire

"The list is life." - Schindler's List

"Bueller...Bueller..." - Ferris Bueller's Day Off

"What's happenin', hot stuff?" - Sixteen Candles

"Get away from her, you BITCH!" - Aliens

"Go ahead, make my day." - Sudden Impact

"You've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well do ya, punk?" - Dirty Harry (Dirty Harry gets double-billing because he's just that freaking cool.)

"I'm not going to be ignored, Dan!" - Fatal Attraction

"STELLA!" - A Streetcar Named Desire

"K-Mart sucks." - Rain Man

"Say hello to my little friend!" - Scarface

"May the force be with you." - Star Wars

"I was just in my office and I heard a ruckus." - The Breakfast Club

"Fill your hands, you son of a bitch!" - True Grit

"Shane! Come back!" - Shane

"What we got here is a failure to communicate." - Cool Hand Luke

"Heeere's Johnny!" - The Shining

"You have the handwriting of a serial killer." - Steel Magnolias

"Do I look like a guy with a plan?" - The Dark Knight

"Our arrows will blot out the sun!"..."Then we will fight in the shade." - 300

"As...you...wish...!" - The Princess Bride

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." - Gone With The Wind

"Get your stinking paws off me, you damned dirty ape!" - Planet of the Apes

What about all of you out there? What are some of your favorite movie lines?

What's So Great About Men?

In re-reading my last post, I started to wonder if I came across as someone who views all men with suspicion and fear with my talk of needing to "weed out" the jerks, etc. I hope not, because that's the furthest thing from what I think.

I know that there are jerks out there, and psychos, misogynists, etc. But I've known far too many good and decent men in my life to believe that most men are like that. Men who display in their daily lives the very attributes that God had in mind when he designed them: servant leadership, courage, strength, integrity, and good old-fashioned masculinity. My father stands out as one shining example: he married my mother, who at the time was a single parent, and raised and loved her child as his own. His constancy, his steadiness, his integrity and silent strength have been a safe harbor to me all of my life, and a guidepost for what I can and should expect a husband to be like.

I am so sick and tired of the man-bashing that goes on in our culture today. Oh sure, it's no longer quite as overt as it used to be (how many times have you heard a woman yelling at a man for holding open a door for her?) but it's still there. If I see one more vapid sitcom in which the wife is a beautiful, capable, intelligent woman "enduring" her marriage to a fat, boorish buffoon, I think I'll scream. The men typified in these worthless wastes of film aren't even capable of leading a horse to water, much less leading their families. Where are the celluloid examples of the confident, secure, thoughtful man? To borrow a phrase from Paula Cole, "Where have all the cowboys gone?"

To be sure, we would see a lot more examples of this type of man if women, and society in general, held men up to a higher standard. People live up (or down) to your expectations of them. But that's neither here nor there. The point I'm trying to make (rather poorly, I'm afraid) is that MEN ARE NOT THE ENEMY. I'm tired of the garbage of the feminist movement, trying to turn men into women. We want men to be more like us, then we do nothing but complain when they comply with our wishes! They can't win for losing!

I've watched the pendulum begin to swing the other way over the past decade or so, with great joy and relief. It's about time that we let men be men again. And I'm not talking about shallow, inconsequential issues like whether he leaves the toilet seat up or watches football in his underwear. Come on ladies, stay with me. When a man is walking with God and living his life the way God designed him to, we as women need not fear submitting to him. Sure, he'll make mistakes, as will we. We're all sinners - it's what we do. But a man who has submitted himself to the Lord and committed himself to leading his family to the best of his ability, and loving his wife as Christ loved the church, is not a man to be rebelled against or despised. He's a man to be loved and respected. In today's culture, that kind of man may seem like an endangered species. But there's more of them out there than you may think. I know...I see them every Sunday.

In Defense of "Prudes" Everywhere

I read something the other day while messing around on yahoo that ticked me off (gee, what a surprise). It was a blurb on Kevin Jonas's (of Disney's Jonas Brothers fame, for those of you who either have lives or no daughters under the age of 17 living at home) wedding to his girlfriend this past December. Okay, it wasn't the blurb itself, but a few of the comments people left that made me mad. Some were stupid, most were immature, but some were downright nasty, basically saying that the only reason he married her was so he could have sex.

Huh? you might be saying to yourself at this point. Because (sadly enough) most people in today's culture just assume that if two people have been dating for any length of time, they're also having sex. For those of you who don't know, the Jonas Brothers publicly wear purity rings and have stated that they all plan to wait until marriage to have sex.

This post isn't meant to be a treatise on Kevin Jonas's romantic life, which frankly is nobody's business but his and his wife's. But it never fails to gall me that an individual's decision to wait until marriage is treated with such disbelief - and in many cases outright contempt - in America today. You're either considered a brainless goody-two-shoes or a frigid prude if you don't "put out".

I'm not going to waste my time and give myself carpal tunnel trying to convince those of you who disagree with me that abstinence is the way to go. Neither is it my intention to make anyone feel like a worthless slut. What follows are my personal reasons for and feelings about abstinence and its value.

First and foremost, I believe waiting until marriage is the way to go because the Bible says it is. Call me a hokey fundamentalist, say I've checked my brain at the door - I don't care. I have been bought with a price by Jesus, and therefore cannot disregard what His Word says about the matter (no matter how much my hormones may want me to). I didn't always believe in the Bible - indeed, thought it was utter junk for most of my life - and so I haven't always come down on this side of the issue. Nor have I lived it out in my life up until now.

I plan on waiting until I get married again to have sex. "What's the point?" you may ask. "You've already been married. It's not like you'll be 'pure' for your future husband. So why bother?" Well, for the reason outlined above, mainly. But it's not just about obedience to a "moral code" for me. It's an issue of trust. Do I trust God enough to wait for Him to bring exactly the right person into my life? Do I trust Him enough to not gratify my momentary desires and hold out for something better? Something more? It's also about honoring my future spouse. Waiting shows him that I value him above all other men, that he is so special to me that I wasn't willing to cheapen our relationship by turning sex into something akin to merely scratching an itch.

"Well, that's all fine and good, Miss Prudy-Pants," you say. "But what if you never get married again?" The answer to that is simple: then I will never be with anyone else again. On the surface, even to me, that sounds abysmally depressing. We are physical creatures, made for physical intimacy with each other. It's a natural longing. But again, for me, this is where trust in God comes in: do I trust Him enough that I still believe He has what's best for me in mind, even when He might not grant me what I so desperately wish for? Do I believe that He is good, and sovereign, or don't I?

Beyond the obvious points that waiting until marriage drastically reduces your risk of STDs and 100% eliminates your risk of an unwed pregnancy, there are other, unseen dangers it protects you from. Like the danger of sex losing its meaning as the most intimate, God-ordained and therefore holy means of a husband and wife expressing their love for each other. When you are not made to wait for something, when you can have it every day whenever you want, it ceases to be special. It's just another something you do. You are in danger of seeing it not as a way to give yourself completely to your spouse, but as a way to "get your rocks off".

Closely related to that, having sex too early (whether in life or in a relationship) can destroy your self-respect and cause you to get involved in relationships and situations that further erode your sense of value and worth as a person. If you don't see yourself as worth waiting for, you will attract people to you who feel the same way. I speak from bitter experience here. For far too long I didn't see myself as someone who deserved respect from other people. I wasn't promiscuous like, say, Carrie from "Sex and the City", but I made my share of mistakes. I gave myself to men (boys?) who were only using me, and I convinced myself that they cared about me on a deeper level. On a level that, I now understand, can only be reached by requiring something more of the other person AND yourself. How I wish I could take those days back and start over!!

So abstaining is (for me, anyway) in part a selfish act, I guess. I need to protect myself. I need to weed out men who only want something superficial and physical, so that when I do give myself to someone I can know for certain that he'll take the gift I give him and treasure it. I deserve that.

And so do you.

Think Before You Ink - Warning: NOT for the Squeamish!!

I debated for a while whether I would post this, mainly because I didn't want people gagging whenever they came within 50 feet of me or dropping off my facebook friend list like flies. But then I decided, what the heck, what's a little more TMI?

The issue of whether to get a tattoo in the first place is an extremely personal one, and an issue on which I won't take sides. It would be hypocritical of me to tell people not to get a tattoo since I myself have two others on my back that I have no plans to get rid of. I know people who have several tattoos (heck, Craig had lots of them) and people who have none. I know people who are deeply against tattoos, and I understand their feelings and have the utmost respect for their convictions. I also have a friend from high school who is a tattoo artist and whose artwork blows me away it's so beautiful.

The whole "to tattoo or not to tattoo" issue is irrelevant to this discussion. What I want to emphasize here is to THINK before you ever get a tattoo in the first place. So let's get down to the nitty-gritty.

The pictures in this post are the results of my 4th tattoo removal session on Monday, January 11th. They were taken on January 12th. Yes, they are completely revolting. And yes, that great big puffy thing you see on my ankle is indeed a blister. Most of my ankle is covered in blisters, though that is the largest one. And notice how my ankle is so swollen that you can't even see the bone...sexy, huh?

For those of you who know nothing about the tattoo removal process, this is the lowdown: a laser is used on the tattoo to break up the ink particles, which your body's immune system then absorbs. The laser coming in contact with the ink is what causes the pain - if the laser touches skin without a tattoo, it doesn't hurt at all. Weird, huh? And let me tell, you, it is EXCRUCIATINGLY painful. No joke. The only other thing I've experienced that was more painful was childbirth. Even with the so-called anesthetic cream, it was horrible.

Then there is the healing process. I've decided to go against the advice of the dermatologist's assistant, which was to prick the blisters and drain them. I did that the other three appointments and healing was EXTREMELY slow and painful. After the blisters heal, the area scabs over and starts itching like crazy. Again, very sexy...

It's a long, slow process, as well. My dermatologist estimated this tattoo would take between six and eight treatments to remove, but I'm leaning towards more than eight. And you have to wait at least five to six weeks in between each treatment for the site to heal. But here's the real kicker: each appointment costs between $250 and $300. Yep, you read that right. I get to pay through the nose for the privilege of enduring agonizing pain every six weeks. Oh, and did I mention insurance doesn't cover tattoo removal? I toyed with the idea of trying to convince the doctor it was a gang tattoo so maybe he'd reduce or eliminate the fee (just kidding!).

You may be asking yourself at this point, if the tattoo removal process is so awful, then why am I doing it? And that brings me to the crux of this post: I WAS STUPID. I repeat: I WAS STUPID. I didn't give nearly enough thought to this tattoo. And every time I've looked down at it for the past 16 years that I've had it, it makes me feel embarrassed and ashamed. It's not who I am anymore, if it ever really was. I want it gone so badly that I'm willing to endure the pain and the expense.

So I want to urge everyone reading this post who either wants a tattoo themselves or knows someone who does: THINK BEFORE YOU INK!!! My personal recommendation is to think about any prospective tattoo for at least six months: what it is, how big, where you want it, etc. And when you're absolutely sure you've got the details right, wait another six months -minimum - before you go under the gun. You might find you change your mind. And viola! you've just saved yourself tons of money, embarrassment, and pain.

Take a good, long look at these pictures, because this is what you'll have to go through if you wake up one day and realize your tattoo wasn't such a good idea after all. Is it really worth it?

Okay, time to wax sanctimonious...here are some personal recommendations/opinions if you've thought long and hard about it and you're absolutely sure you want a tattoo and nobody's going to talk you out of it:

• Check out the tattoo artist thoroughly beforehand. But don't just ask to see a photo album of previous work - how do you know the person you're considering actually did those tattoos? People do lie sometimes (gasp!). So hang out at the tattoo shop. Ask if it's okay for you to watch them give a tattoo to somebody else - as long as you stay out of the way, a reputable tattoo artist should have no problem with letting you observe, or at least with checking out people's brand-new tattoos as they're leaving the shop.
• Make sure they use sterilized equipment EACH AND EVERY time they tattoo. Laser removal bites the big one, but so do hepatitis and HIV.
• I believe in true love and that marriage is a covenant made before God and is meant to last forever and all, but still...don't get your spouse's or boyfriend/girlfriend's name tattooed ANYWHERE on yourself. Bad idea. Just don't.
• Ladies, please...no more tramp stamps. 'Nough said.
• Be very careful about getting a portrait tattoo - they're extremely hard to pull off, and when done wrong, they just look ghastly.

Have I irritated you yet? Maybe. Grossed you out? Probably. But just remember, the next time you see me and feel the bile rise in the back of your throat as you look down at my ankle...I did it out of love.

A Dog Person Sings the Praises of Cats

I hate cats.

Okay, that's not really true. But as a self-described "dog person", I've always had a very different attitude toward cats than dogs. I like all dogs as a general rule, unless and until a particular dog gives me a reason not to. Cats, I evaluate on a case-by-case basis. I always found cats to be aloof, standoffish, even downright snobby, if that's possible. I wondered how people could feel such affection for a creature that didn't seem to give a rip whether their owner lived or died, as long as it had food and water and a clean litter box.

Then, last summer, Tyler and Sydney each got a kitten. Or, more accurately, I felt guilty for giving away their outrageously rambunctious and destructive dogs and so allowed myself to be suckered into it. My motivation was simple: the girls desperately wanted something soft and fuzzy to cuddle and love on, and I didn't want to get another dog and jump right back into the whirlpool of chaos and stress I'd just escaped from. I checked out bunnies, and it turns out they're not recommended for small children as they don't like to be picked up very much - a deal-breaker with a child like Sydney, whose immediate instinct is to hug and squeeze anything with fur until its eyeballs practically pop out of its head. I looked into guinea pigs, but wasn't confident I could keep the house from smelling like a pet store. Ditto ferrets - plus they just creep me out. So with a somewhat resigned sigh I took the girls to WalMart to stock up on kitten food and litter boxes and cat toys before driving to a friend of a friend's house to pick up the newest additions to our household.

Now, I'll be the first to admit that kittens are pretty darned cute. You'd almost have to have a heart of stone not to think that, despite your feelings about what a kitten grows up to be. So I found myself unable to keep from going, "Awwwww!" along with Tyler and Sydney as we watched Whiskers and Blackie's antics around the house: investigating every nook and cranny they could squeeze their tiny bodies into, crying like babies when one got out of sight of the other, pouncing on their plastic toys as if they were mighty lions prowling the plains in Africa. Against my will, they started to grow on me.

Fast-forward seven months. These darned animals have me totally wrapped around their little paws. I actually caught myself the other day saying to someone, "MY cats..." I walk down the cat aisle in the grocery store whenever I'm there just to check out the toys and treats they have. I bought them a gigantic kitty condo, telling myself it was so they'd have something to climb on other than my furniture, but down deep I'm not so sure that was the primary motivation. My heart melts when I see how patient and sweet they are with the girls - especially Sydney, who can't let either one of them walk by her without picking him up and cradling him like a baby in her arms. I actually get a little bummed out when they don't come in my room and sleep on the bed with me at night. And when Tyler and Sydney talk about taking the cats with them when they're grown and out of the house, I do the best I can to ignore the tiny prick of sadness in the center of my chest.

Oh, they do things that drive me up the wall, too, like chewing on my houseplants and getting on the kitchen counters and clawing the pool table cover to shreds. Thinking about all the things I could've done with the money I've spent on vet bills doesn't exactly put a smile on my face. And why is it that whenever a cat pukes, he has to do it on the edge of the carpet, SIX INCHES away from the linoleum?! But still, my perception of cats has changed a lot since living with them for the past seven months.

I no longer think cats are necessarily snobby or aloof - just selective in the company they choose to keep. (Something us humans would do well to imitate, I think.) When Tyler or Sydney have been sick and didn't feel like getting out of bed, Whiskers and Blackie both have stayed with them all day, only leaving long enough to use the litter box or get a drink of water. When we were gone for a few days over Thanksgiving, they were so glad to see us back that they followed us around the house, meowing like babies, for at least a week. They greet Tyler and Sydney at the foot of the stairs every morning when they hear their alarm clocks go off.

It used to seem dismissive or rude to me when a cat that I was petting would just suddenly get up and walk away. But now I see that for what it really was: my own insecurity. It's not the cat's job to feed my ego, for Pete's sake! How sad is that?

I still love dogs, and probably someday will get another dog (after Tyler and Sydney take my cats away from me, that is). But for now, I'm happy with meows and purrs and the occasional hairball. What can I say? I'm a sucker for a cute face.

I've Gone and Done It

Yep, I finally joined the 21st century and started a blog! Those of you who know me really well probably saw this coming, maybe even wondered why the heck it took me so long. I'm not really sure myself.

I lay the blame for this blog squarely at the feet of facebook. That seemingly innocent site drew me in like a supermodel to Dexatrim. I loved (and still love) almost everything about it - becoming reacquainted with old friends, checking out everybody's pictures, leaving snarky comments, and eavesdropping on people's lives without getting in trouble for it. But the "what's on your mind?" paragraph sometimes just isn't enough for me. Especially since half the time I'm not sure exactly what is on my mind. I just want to babble. But babbling in under 420 characters is next to impossible, like taking only one bite out of a piece of turtle cheesecake.

This blog will be a work in progress for a while, so bear with me. I might even change its name at some point down the road. In case you're wondering, it's the title of a song by an obscure group called "Prefab Sprout" that a guy I dated in high school was almost pathologically addicted to. They're not bad - sometimes I still pull out the cd and give it a listen. Anyway, the title seemed appropriate given the events of the past year.

Time to hit the hay and dream about all the things I can blabber about in the weeks and months to come...goodnight!