Do I hear a niner in there?

2008, you were weird.

 

Definitely weird.

 

We had some good times, we lived in a few countries...hurled ourselves down some mountains with good friends, went to beach with others.  Watched some Euro Cup soccer madness, and swam in a lake so clean and cold and blue that fish couldn't survive in it.  Hiked in flower-dappled Italy, watched the sun set late in the day, and sat on rooftops with kindred spirits.  We started biking.  We ate dinner completely in the dark.  We whitewater rafted in water that was a snow cap three hours before, we jumped off rocks, on trampolines, on trains, on buses, on planes. We laughed and we danced as long as our left knee would let us.  We ate a lot of pizza.  We drank a lot of wine.  We texted, emailed, facebooked and even wrote a post card or two. We watched the entire four-season collection of LOST.  We almost started to like coke lite with no ice cubes.  We came home for good and came crashing down. We voted, for what we weren't sure.  We finished the basement and watched it flood again.    We stopped paying for cable.  We realized for the first time that marriage just may not be in the cards...and the sun came up anyway.   We wore a Christmas tree costume more times than we care to admit. We got a new pastor and man, can he sing!  Got a new washer that is going to help save the planet that plays a weird tune when it's finished (washing..not saving the planet).   We started coaching volleyball in the city and love every second of it.   We drank martinis at the zoo and listened to adventures from China, India, Ireland and Belgium.

 

Got our hearts healed and then re-broken, and then healed again.  Got our ass kicked a couple distinct times and it was good.  Reconciliation?  I'm more beautiful with my scars and my hobbit feet.  I realized life is not a list of stuff, or a series of compartments and it is good, even when it's bad.

 

Many more people got married, many more had and even lost babies and I have cried and rejoiced with you all, even if only in cyberspace (lame). Friends got shot. Friends survived.  Friends are surviving. Friends on facebook reached over the 300+ mark, while the friends I actually spend time with dwindled to about four plus a brother who continues to be kick ass.

 

Oh-Nine, what will you bring with you, besides my much anticipated Three-Oh?

 

I almost forgot....I have dishes that match now.  Bring seven people and come over for soup.  We will eat from matching bowls...in Oh Nine.

 

Goodbye Oh Ate.

Second Crisis Mercifully Averted...

The night before last I was picking up my bike from my friendly-neighborhood bike-shop-owner-guy, Dan. He lives pretty close to me and graciously brings my bike to and from his shop so I don't have to drive out there all the time. It was in for minor adjustments and a much needed extra tube and pump. I told him I would finally come and get it from him Monday night. He was going to be away at bible study so I was going to pick it up off the back porch, and drop a check in the mail.

Little did I know I would be doing this mission on the coldest night of the year thus far. It was so cold that I wanted to keep the car running and warm while I was jockeying the bike around. I happened to be listening to a Christian radio program that I landed on and I had it blaring throughout this whole scene. It was about real community and how much it sucks, even though it rocks, and I thought AMEN. Anyway... I didn't have my bike rack, so I was jamming and shoving and cursing the bike into the trunk. A bike is awkward anyway, let alone when your fingers are freezing and there are other bulky things in your car to jockey around. In the middle of the jockey, I decided to close the door to conserve warmth. I could still hear the radio through the trunk, it was pretty loud so I was semi-distracted. I jammed my bike in the trunk in one piece, with the trunk open, since I couldn't get the wheel off. (I have never taken the wheel off before, cold, weak fingers, blah blah blah). I backed gingerly out of the driveway and started to pull down the street as the guy on the radio was talking about Republicans loving Democrats or something.

Whoops. I forgot to pay Dan. Back up down the street...(African tribes claiming to be Christians killing each other?)... I hit something, I think it's curb. I see a neighbor man salting his drive eye me curiously. I decide to stop where I was instead of backing up any further with my trunk blocking my view for it had now swung wide open). I hop out of the car, leave it running and warm, and I close the door. I walk farther than I want to Dan's mailbox and drop the check in. I shivered thinking of the last time I was in Dan's neighborhood. There was a suspected homicide at the Rug World some 100 yards down the street at the exact same time I was poking around his yard in the dark dropping off my bike. I was glad for the glowy twinkle of the Christmas lights and the seeming non-homicidal atmosphere.

I arrive thankfully back at my running car... LOCKED?! What? I HATE this car. I just did this SAME routine not two minutes earlier and my door was not locked when I came back to it. Maybe because I shifted gears? Doesn't matter now. I have almost no gas and my phone, of course, is safely in my purse locked inside. Perfect. Ok so my trunk is still open. Maybe I can kick the back seat down and get in that way. I yank the bike back out of the trunk and stand it up in the street behind the car and I climb in the trunk. I think I was saying things out loud like "NO NO NO" and I may have been trying to kick my seat alternately beating it with the extra long ice scraper squeegee combo that I had back there. I then had a vision of me being slammed into the trunk, by some sick Rug-World-Murderer passer-by, who would leave me to die of some sort of confined-trunk-space-poisoning and ride off to freedom with my newly adjusted (two-wheeled) bike. I promptly climbed out and thought about my next move.

I didn't have much gas or many options. I went to the house where I had seen the salty neighbor man. I knocked on his door planning to call my brother first to see if he could find my spare, all the while praying my spare was not in my purse. A woman tentatively answered the door and I stepped into their cluttered home (here was someone who had a more cluttered place than ME). I dialed my brother who I realize now has a long distance number. Upon attempt number three i get through and ask him to find my key and come get me. He tells me he's frying a chicken breast and that I should call him back in ten minutes. I explain that I cannot "call him back" anymore and he cannot call me either and I tell him to just come and get me. Hopefully he can get back with the key and i can get to a gas station before I have another problem to solve in the freezing cold night. I hang up, not sure how to ask this woman if I can wait for him inside the house as she clearly seems put out that I am standing in her entryway, when MERCIFULLY, Dan comes home. I run out the door as he is walking toward the bike, as he explained later, he was on his way "bust someone up who was stealing Lindsey's bike". HA. I yell at him from across the street. "HEY I locked my keys in the car...it's running." and the first words he uttered were "I love you Lindsey Merrill". Perfect response to not make me cry. I laughed instead and gave him a hug.

Dan then climbs in the trunk, explaining that there usually is some sort of release mechanism inside the trunk in the case that someone would get closed in one. I explained my previous position in that trunk and say I already tried opening the back seat up. Before I could even have a random thought to insert here, he found the switch and was into the back seat!

JOY!

I dove inside the car to call my brother so that his chicken frying would not have to cease. Then, by the time I got off the phone with my bro, Dan had the front wheel off and the bike into the trunk for me. It still wouldn't close completely, but definitely better than last time.

OH So grateful was I.

God and Dan are GOOD.
Crisis, again, averted.

Crisis Mercifully Averted!

Hard Drive... SAVED.

 

They tried one last glimmer of softward hope and figured out the issue. 

 

MEMORIES RESTORED!

 

Now on my list is an EXTERNAL HARD DRIVE. So this does not occur again.

 

Let my near tragedy inspire you and yours to back up yo stuff this holiday season, and always.

 

Cheers!

Unspeakable sadness...

I  lost my hard drive.

Will all of my Pictures on it.  ALL of them.

 

Yes I know.  External hard drive...   I KNOW.

 

Mourning.  Just Mourning this loss.

The blanket finally got done!

Here is a link to a picture of the little guy with it!

 

http://jodified.typepad.com/a_mom_and_her_camera/2008/12/sick-and-tired-of-being-sick-and-tired-.html

Sun

Bright winter sun streams in thru the dirty office window that I sit behind.  It feels warm and hopeful.  It feels like its aging my skin.  But I don’t mind.  With age comes wisdom, and at least then I am not a pasty white engineer type.   Thanksgiving was WONDERFUL.  I have a great family, full of talented and resilient people.  I have their DNA. 

 

Little neon sticky notes pepper my desk and computer screen and I know I should stop typing and get to the equipment list that I need to finish (start?).  But somehow this serene Friday after Thanksgiving is begging me to breathe and reflect and be all sappy.  And to maybe go find a bagel in the kitchen.

 

Hope.  I hope there is a blueberry one left.  I hope I am productive today.  I hope people realize that relationships are never over.  Their roots linger long after we have tried to remove them.  I used to think compartmentalization was necessary and just the way things were…but I am reminded that God only wiped the slate clean once.  After that, he said no matter how grave it gets, I will chase you.  I will woo you back to me.  No matter where you go, what you do, if you are mine and intended for me, I will find you and keep you and redeem you.   No matter how broken your bones are, my breath is sufficient to make them dance again. 

 

When I was a kid I had really bad handwriting.  I was ashamed of it because it was the only thing I couldn’t seem to get good grades in.  It was the source of a dreaded reprimand from my teacher.  My aunts and parents worked with me to correct it.  I would start a paper or an essay or math homework and halfway through I would look at how messy it was and rip it out crumple it up and start over.   My handwriting improved but my method did not.  In math, I did so much of it in my head or in my very unorthodox code, which consisted of maybe writing down every third figure and surely not in neat straight lines.  It made showing my work to teachers feel very much like lifting my dress over my head.  I didn’t understand why they wanted to know how I got there? If the final answer was right…why did it matter how I got there?  I never got there like they did anyway.

 

Into college and after the advent of word processing I would do much the same thing.  I never wanted record of changes, or mistakes, so I would rarely track them.  I would not keep first drafts.  I couldn’t even seem to follow proper procedure in my chemistry lab books, no erasing, white-out or scratching through was allowed.  You had to draw one single line through your error so that everyone could still see it. Then you had to initial it.  As if to say, “I am LEM and this is the color of my underwear on 11/12/08.”  Even as I saw the tracking of these errors as neon signs pointing to the chinks in my armor of perfection, the wise profs saw the value of this process.  They (whoever they were) realized that the process of recording what was done, right down to the mistake, was important to the final product and for looking back over decision making processes.  They also knew that if you go into battle with chink-y armor, that isn’t a good thing.

 

Now (that I am old, wise and sun-damaged) I keep everything.   It’s taken me seven years of hard learning, but I keep all of my chicken scratches that I write on my engineering drawings in three large bank boxes under my desk.  This means I have had to stop doodling and recording unhelpful meeting commentary..i.e. “Wow, Joe Schmuckatelli has excessive ear hair”.  This also means I have to keep the boxes away from the space heater.  I keep a ratty book of my process flow diagrams for work for the duration of the project now.  It becomes so cool.  With all of the different colors of pen, all the notes and data, the layers of thought and dog-eared pages.  I refer back to it constantly, I teach others with it and it saves me so much time.

 

All this nerdy-ness is my way of illustrating that the process is important.  With stuff, but even more with people.  I used to be so much more endpoint oriented, final-polished-product oriented.  I left out the value and the beauty of the process. 

 

Perfect example would be my basketball career.  Not many people can say that they have four national championship rings, I very much can.  But I also know about my shortcomings and things I did during that time that more resembled sausage-making than living a dream-like journey.   That process was overlooked and unimportant to me compared to getting the ring at the end of the year.  The endpoint was praised, but it was so fleeting and empty, I wish I had done the journey part better, especially with respect to relationships with people and with respect to taking care of myself physically, and spiritually.

 

There were no blueberry bagels, but there is still Hope.    

 

 

 

Conversation with Mom...

Rick James, everybody!

Mom: "What are you up to this weekend?"

Murl: "Oh I'm going to this thing at the zoo called Zootini"

Mom: "Zuchini?"

Murl: "No. Zoo-tini"

Mom: "Oh."

Follow up conversation:

Mom: "So how was that thing you went to at the zoo? What was it... 'Zucchini'?"

Murl: "Uh. Still no. It's ... 'Zootini', like 'Martini'...take the word Martini and put a "Zoo" infront of it.

Mom: "Zoo-Martini"

Murl: "No, Mom...."

The Dirty Window

I sit by a window now…so the goings on outside now permeate my bubble… yesterday there were a gaggle of Canada Geese tromping by... from the neck up they bobbed along, cheering me on.  GO BACK TO WORK.

 

Today a woman glided by pushing a cart of sandwiches…like unwrapped ones...where is she going?  What is the lunch occasion? Why wouldn’t you cover them knowing there are geese around?? GET BACK TO WORK.

 

 

Election thoughts by Beth.

Emphasis Mine:

 

A few things I'm so thankful for on this election day, regardless of the outcome:

*We live in a democracy where we have the right to a vote and a voice. We have the God-given responsibility to use both wisely and in the way that best reflects what God conveys through Scripture.

*God "works out everything in conformity with the purpose of His will" and "according to the plan." Ephesians 1:11

*Not only does God work out everything in conformity with His will, He has promised to work out everything for the GOOD of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.

*God sets up kings and deposes them and gives wisdom to the wise and knowledge to the discerning. Daniel 2:21

*We, the beautifully diverse family of God, are never - not at any time - powerless. Nor are we ever victims of a system. Believing prayer takes us through doors we'll never be invited to enter and into judges chambers we'll never grace. Take a look back at Genesis 18 once again with astonishment over the dialogue between God and His servant and friend, Abraham. Rejoice that God is ever mindful of a faithful remnant. The Judge of the Earth will always do right.

*Even if persecution should await believers in Christ or harrowing circumstances hound us, God will use hardship to bring unity and purity to a people who need it desperately. The best of circumstances do not always produce the best in the Bride of Christ.

*The living God is firmly established upon His Throne and there at His holy feet we can always find grace and mercy in our time of need.

*No matter what happens today, we are GOD'S elect. He has elected us to show His heart and to walk in His ways in the culture that surrounds us. We are called to walk in the challenging balance of grace and truth.

May we be filled with Christ's Spirit today and our mouths given to praise and to believing, receiving prayer. God IS faithful and He has us firmly in His hand. We will not fear. We will not doubt. We will not hate.

"Let the beloved of the Lord rest secure in Him, for He shields him all day long, and the one the Lord loves rests between His shoulders." Deuteronomy 33:12

Like the blooming of flowers....

I was reminded by Singram, that not ONLY is the Daylight savings day approaching, but ALSO during this period of time there is another fall event to be given due consideration. In our office, and I would dare to assume in other offices across this fine land of ours and across the world, the internal clocks of men, much like the migration pattern of birds, make the switch from polo’s or long sleeve button-up shirts to the full-on diamond pattern turquoise blue Cosby sweaters.

That’s right folks.. the “Fall Cosbinox” is quickly approaching.

It’s not on a calendar…it’s written only on the hearts of men.

(Credit for the term ‘Cosbinox’ goes solely to S. Ingram, THE funniest person ever).

Mesquite and Zion

Pics of October

Beauty for Ashes, Strength for Fear, Gladness for Mourning, Peace for Despair.

 

Tradin' in God's store is pretty rad.

 

You know what ELSE is RAD??? The fact that I get my favorite day of the year this year!!!  That's right folks, the most glorious day of the year is upon us and I cannot tell you how antsy I am for my 'extra' hour.  I think I like it more than Christmas.   Which is why last year was such a bummer.  Some of my friends were lucky enough to get it TWICE last year...and I got it ZERO times. 

 

But Jealous Lindsey is gone.

 

So THIS Lindsey super happy that some people got it two times last year and also that I am getting it this year!  Yes m'am.

 

I mean think about it.. a whole extra hour to do whatever it is you want. 

 

GET EXCITED PEOPLE

Aw...

Duster-Buster got out.  :(

He had a great Round 6 and pulled a dramatic 412 out to go to the next round of eight people (made my Mom scream) but then eventually got beat out.  He did great, and his last ball was 390yds which you would think would be enough...but the fourth place in that group was 402!   IN SANE.  Tons of people were hitting up in the 400's.  Dust hit two of those.  Dusty says it's hard to see your number up on the board at 402 only to look over and see that you've been out driven by 20 yds! 

 

So proud of my brother... he did awesome! 

 

And Liz, I got to go to ZION!  I'll post pics soon, lovely! 

dust

update from mesquite...dusty is into round 5. his long ball 405yds...i
want to throw up....

See ya next Fall.

Today I tried to break my legs off at the shins.  I was moving cubicles from my stuffy corner to a new one with a nice big view of a dirty window.  I had the bottom file cabinet drawer open and I turned to quickly in my new surroundings and forgot it was there, somehow wedged both my feet under the drawer, and my upper body kept going, arms windmilling trying to stop that forward momentum.  I, somehow, managed to unwedge my feet from the carpet and sort of handstand tuck and roll over it before I broke any bones.  It was scary, but totally hilarious.  A few things, I think, contributed to this event...

 

A. I had my shoes off because my legs were bothering me from overdoing it at Physical Therapy so i was shuffling around a little like Estelle Getty in a penguin suit all day. I think if I had kept my heels on, I wouldn't have gotten myself wedged under the drawer.   (I have a couple of nice bruises on my shins to match the contact dermatitis I have acquired from doing PT with the latex stretchy bands. It throbs and flashes like a little neon sign on my ankle. Soo preeety.)

 

B.  Brian* my Physical Therapist.  He's tiny has an adorably slight lisp and plays Rugby.  He is super nice, and says he's impressed with my drive and willingness to work hard.  I let that go to my head fairly regularly but then I realize he also works with six-year-olds and sixty-year-olds and people recovering from carpal tunnel from using the TV remote.  Brian also runs marathons and he's a male, so I'm pretty sure he isn't that "imprethed" with me.  I digress.  Basically my pride is the reason I increased the weight when I shouldn't have, I would like to blame Brian, and perhaps I will. Two days ago I could touch my toes (which is HUGE improvement for me) and today I can't straighten my leg even if i'm standing straight up.  I have toxic hamstrings and I have been muttering "Oil Can" all day.  It's a such a strange, deep, chemical soreness that I can't accurately describe how painfully annoying it's been and how slowly I am moving. (Wait! No I did, Estelle Getty, penguin suit...but maybe she is also on acid).

 

C.  Coworkers seem to think this final factor played the biggest role in the 'near miss'.   I was at the office at 6am today.  Scratch that, TEN TIL 6am. Today. In the MORNING. yeah.. ME.  Talking to India on a conference call. I don't even like talking to America before noon.  By the afternoon I was almost delirious from being awake so early and was sneezing from inhaling the dust I'd generated from the office move. 

 

All of these together are why I decided to leave work at 3 and sleep for two hours.  I need this upcoming Vegas vacay.  

 

* Does anyone else always type "BRAIN" first when trying to spell '"BRIAN"??

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of Note

My brother fixed my toilet leak!  That is happy.

Gas prices are down.

I finally found dried strawberries after years of searching.  (NOT the freeze dried kind)

Brian, my Physical Therapist is killing me in a good way.

Had a meeting where the fearless leader of our company stated “Ain’t that as weird as a bag of chips?”

 

I just work here.

 

 

 

Hard not to laugh...

http://www.dailyjournalonline.com/articles/2008/09/26/news/doc48dcf8e01df03071741736.txt

 

My uncle is unharmed, but is joining me in physical therapy! 

 

Aunt Norma is such a trip and is NO WHERE near senile and too old to drive! This article has no idea how old she is!  It just says the man was 75.  Norma is sharp as a tack and this was simply the kind of mistake that runs (over) in my family.  We just do stuff like this.

 

 

 

 

I Am Legend

Fodder.

A few nights ago I read the manual to the new washing machine. In English AND Spanish.
 
This morning I turned the lights on in my Office building for the first time in my now SEVEN count 'am SEVEN year stint at "whatever it is that I do".   (Reading between the lines it means I was the first person at the office... that has never happened before...I have many times been the last...but never the first....). 
 
I sat in a Walgreens parking lot between PT and Volleyball tonight reading a magazing and listening to random magic sermon CD's that were given to me by God because we could not determine from whence they came.. only I'm sure they missed their intended recipient because these CD's were on husbands and wives submitting and stuff.  Return to sender.
 
The shoulder and knee do not feel better.  Elbow and back feel worse.  Is this worth a 25 dollar copay every time??  I do not know yet.
 
I don't have cable...good.
I am stealing wireless...bad.
 
It's going away.  It has to.
 
It's a good life.  I think there is purpose, even here.
 

I thought these pictures were so precious I had to post them. Taken inmpromtu on our office's winery trip to Hermann, MO. (Never been...it's beautiful)

This is Jim and Gail. A-dorable.

Continued from, like, April...

Recall back when I never wrote down the story about Lucerne?   Well after the second person told me about this story… I felt I should tell it after all.

We had one hour to experience the joy that was Lucerne, Switzerland.   My parents were visiting and this was their last stop on their tour of the country I was calling home before they went back to the states.   That made this event much more painful.  In our hour we were going to walk down to the "lion" and just wander the city a little bit so we decided to stow our winter wear in a locker in the train station so we didn't have to lug it around with us.  My mom was to be central keeper of bulky things so we stuffed anything we wanted to keep in her back pack.  It was a small backpack, almost purse-like and I stowed my wallet in it.  You see where this is going?  Not 200 yards from said locker I got to the bus stop and needed to buy a ticket.  I turned to get said wallet and the backpack was flapping open, wallet gone. 

We all calmly flipped. Well except for Mom who was calmly hysterical. We retraced.  Checked trashcans. Glared at all smarmy locals, (why were there so many more smarmy locals that day? )  We retraced again.  And again.  Nothing.  Maybe someone turned it in?? 

Why would they, it had my EVERTYHING in there.  We are talking Passport, Swiss Work Permit, Train half fare card, Train Ticket, tram pass for Basel, Credit Cards, Bank Card, Insurance Cards, 300 dollars in cash, Drivers License ID, Hosiery club cards at JCPenney, and I had NOTHING left.  If my folks hadn't been there I would not have been able to get home.  I had no phone numbers, no phone with me that was charged.  I was somehow fine will ALL of this stuff and was keeping it together and breathing normally, even though my blood pressure was elevated, but I broke down and LOST it on the bridge when I realized the one thing that could not be replaced, restored or re-ordered was the key to the lock on my 'new' old bike that I had just gotten to ride to work.  It would now just sit there and rust in front of my apartment until doomsday.  And there was little to no chance of getting another one at such a deal.  So yes that is what finally made me cry.   I hated Lucerne, with its charming covered wooden bridges and it's flower boxes and it's gorgeous lake, litered with swans and yachts.

We went to the tourist information booth.  They sent us to Lost and Found, who had nothing.  Lost and Found sent us to the police station. Police station was the last straw and our last hope before leaving the trail behind and heading home.  Police man went in the back and came out with my wallet, shiny and sound.  I lost my mind and dove across the counter and hugged the stiff Swiss Officer around his immaculately kempt neck, as he looked, well… assaulted. 

My mom started crying tears of relief and Dad struggled not to get misty, I apologized to the officer for being an American.  He seemed to understand  my handicap and nodded knowingly.

Walked directly out of the Station, went back up to the nice ladies at the Tourist Info booth to let them know I found it and then as we walked out of that door, our train was magically parked in the very first platform (the first of like 15 or so).  We walked directly onto the train and ordered a round of beers.  Crisis averted.  Fervent prayers answered.

Do I hear a "niner" in there?

Security is such a funny thing. 

 

As babies just scream their pink little heads off they let the world know that they are NOT OK when mom and dad leave the nursery.  I hate that I still see microcosm of me in their teething little toddler bodies.  I have grown and lost more teeth than they even have, and I am frustrated to no end that I still throw these much more mature and dignified and justified little silent (and sometimes not so silent) tantrums.  So yes, Baby, I DO understand that when I coo and say "Ooohhh it's all riiiiight? You are fine.  Yes. You. Are" That it does indeed sounds like a load of crap.

 

Last night I had this vision of me sitting in my bed looking over at the Lord, my heavenly husband, perhaps even looking at him over my reading glasses that I do not actually wear, saying you are OK to sleep in here tonight, things have gotten a little bit better and I think we will be OK....but I'm reading...yes I'm reading about YOU (noun)...but I'm not speaking to you right now (no verbs).   Sidelong glance and cold shoulder.  (Noted. In the "plus" column,  I do still have perfect eyesight at 29.  Disco!).  You are still in the dog house, mister, (sorry, I guess that's 'Mister' with a capital M), but  I'm still not entirely sure I trust what you are doing. 

 

But the difference is...I want to find out this time.

 

What if I just let it go?  This thing that I am carrying.  It's no work to carry it really, I mean I can barely exist without it.  The crusty old thing I drag around, this little sock monkey with it's mouth all made of zig-zaggy threads and covered in germs that my body has grown immune to.  I have eaten with it, slept with it, showered with it lived with it, vomited on it, cried when people have tried to take it.  I have refused to hand it to God when he has asked me to lay it down.  It's who I am, it's what makes me "me" and "interesting", right?   It's that part of "crazy" that makes good art.  It's the extreme humility that forces people to adore you.  If you take my monkey, you are asking me to redefine my very "me" that some enlightened people happen to like just fine.  Self degradation, CAN be funny.  I mean c'mon really funny.  I am a hilarious specimen of person.  I have stories to last a lifetime about what a freak I am.  Why ask me to give that up??  If I get screwed over with this spacious cathedral of a body, with the ridiculously solid size 13 foundations, at LEAST let me have fun with it the only way I know how?

 

What can I trust to fill it's place?  What if it's not filled right away, how do I deal with that perhaps boring hole?  I am not brave enough to deal with that gaping hole.  Who wants to trade this in for a "cross" to bear anyway...I'll keep my musty monchee-chee.

 

Friends I'm not talking about anything classic, nothing anyone is going to want to make into a TV mini-series or an after school special, so I'll leave it described in vague terms, but this seems somehow like the fight of my life.  

 

I am starting to not want to drag the monkey around.  I think, much like my hair styles, that it's time for me to change.  Just see what it would be like, to finally not have it.  I imagine it might feel like a person who has been wearing a fanny pack for 29 years and then once it's removed keeps trying to stick gum wrappers and chap stick in it.  But hey those are fun stories too...and it's all about having fun stories.   At twenty-niner, this is the first birthday that I have physically felt, like a clock struck midnight and then it struck me in the face.  Struck me to the tune of now needing physical therapy three times per week. (probably had a little bit to do with the fact that I was literally playing sand volleyball when the clock struck midnight, but nonetheless)  I have a shoulder falling out of socket and a two knees that sound like breakfast cereal, and maybe it's time not to depend on my outward appearance, or cat-like grace, or my debilitating matted sock monkey, or even walking in stealth, to be attractive and worthwhile (or a good hunter?).  Maybe it's time... inner beauty, Jesus's beauty.. it's the new outer beauty.  

 

"Lindsey, again, this is too much for a blog.  Shouldn't you be not emotionally vomiting on us like this?  My google-reader-meter is registering 'awkward' on the charts.  I work with you for crying out loud..." Fair enough.  I'll just say.. in lieu of photos of beautiful little ones, which is the good and proper content of a blog  (and yes, John, I am counting the pics of your new washer and dryer in that as well) I am forced to post what I am giving birth to right now.  I am categorically against emotional vomit, and that is exactly what this would be if I do not follow through.  A posting of "ah ha's" only for me to close the lid to my laptop and bury my head in a bucket of Ben and Jerry's chubby hubby and kick a kitten is only a testament to the proficiency of my typing teacher.  Not to the goodness of God. 

 

So...

 

For the sparkling and bright Elizabeth Ann's out there in bold print. (Gosh how perfect is that?) 

For the Marc's out there who show up in my dreams barging through conference room doors looking long-journeyed and a bit like Elmer Fudd after the Iditarod, wearing a fur-lined hat and skins and what was that? A boy scout bead necklace? 

For the really cute and fun lady who gave birth to me 29 excruciating years ago and has this knack for furniture shopping.

For my very, very, dearest who is having his quarter life right on schedule,

For all the people who really love me and want me to chill the heck out, walk in Grace, 

 

I am attempting to lay my cold weapons down.  The ones I have taken up long ago against me.

 

So be praying.  I don't know how this works.  It's been with me longer than Jesus has.  I might keep you posted, I will probably spare you the gory details.  You, dear reader, are welcome.

 

For the record, I am also categorically against pickles. It's just not what you were born to be, Cucumber.

 

 

 

October

Booked my ticket to see Dusty in the Remax Tournament this year. 

 

No post this year about how he qualified and is a stud, he was already qualified due to his awesome ninth place finish last year and already was a stud.

 

I'm ready for a little arid vacation in beautiful Nevada and for cheering on my favorito hermano.

 

Need to start a new knitting project.  It's my thing to do at those tournaments.

Can it be true??

http://www.talklikeapirate.com/

 

Yarg.. it's driving me nuts....

 

It's Talk like a Pirate Day, Mateys!!

Seasoning.

I love fall knocking on the door.  Warmish coolness.  The heat from my car meshed with the crispy air, calls for the happy red swingy jacket.  Low hanging sun in my eyes. Making everything slanty orange and gilded.

 

Did I mention my house is clean?  I realize a small feat for some, but for me it's been about two years since all the rolls of tape were in one location.  Scotches unite!

 

Blessings.

 

Listening to

Weepies- Painting by Chagall.

Tire Swing- That band from Juno.

Moonlight Sonata- Beethoven.

Joy- Lucinda Williams

 

Dear Bed Bath and Beyond:

 

Some advice for your wedding gift registry.

 

Please use a term other than "Fulfilled" when an item requested by the happy couple has been purchased.  You and I know an apple corer does not bring fulfillment...but impressionable young singletons may just decide to reinforce the shower rod.

 

 

Fluids.

It seems I spoke too soon.  Water from that slapping rain is now in my basement :). 

 

Do not be jealous after all. 

 

This also seems the appropriate time to journal a classic set of "Lindsey" blunders.  I sometimes lose my mind.  I have very consuming thoughts, it would seem, they keep me from living the life in front of me.  The wedding I was supposed to attend this weekend I had to miss because I SCHEDULED THE WRONG DATES.  So I was in KC and going to fly to Dallas and then back to STL.  I ended up missing my first leg because it was the wrong day, so I had to use the second leg just to get home.  So I did that. 

 

Then I took my bike out for a spin and left the trunk to my car WIDE OPEN in my driveway.  What? 

 

I start to unpack my suitcase and it is soaking wet as well.  Source of the liquid is unclear, it may have been internal or external but what IS clear is that it hit something like red ink and stained a few of my work jackets.  Awesome.

 

I did have lunch with great pals and they helped me sop up the water in the basement.  Good, good awesome friends.

 

Tackling that last room, and maybe a nap, a book and then some work.

 

Hoping you are dry on this lovely Sunday.  

Morning.

Gray, cozy morning.  Music playing, candles burning, the house is still.  My laundry is tumbling.  Rain slapping on the driveway.  A good burning in my legs from yesterdays bike ride...my house is clean and starting to feel like it's my space again. 

Only one more room to tackle before chateau Murl is complete, but today that door is shut.  Today it's off my shoulders.

 

I will go to church now and I will hope to pervey this peace as I work in the one year old room at the nursery.  I am thinking if any other houses around feel like mine do this morning that not many people will leave the warm confines, but if they do... I will happily chase their kids around.

 

Blessings to you on this seemingly "hook-blade" day.

 

 

On Gardening

Some one asked "Are you who you are on your blog or are you who you are right now sitting in front of me sad and low?"  The answer is Yes.  I also told her that I was due for a big laundry-airing blog soon and that I was unsure of how to unravel all of the tangled kite strings in order to be coherent, encouraging and real.  I was a bit "blogstipated". 

 
I am not always idealist pie in the sky, or head in the cynical gutter of real-ism.  I am sometimes potato on the couch... or yuppie in the park.  A Dork on the dance floor or a Lonely girl under heavy blanket.   I am always a Work In Progress.  I don't want to be.  I want to be done progressing so I can just chill out.  So that the angry little anxiety monkeys that seem to take up residence on my trapezius muscles will get vertigo from being up there so high that they will jump over to some shorter person.

Cheesy spiritual analogy of the month:  I am this garden hose.  All my life I have been dreaming about and prepping for watering this one very specific type of plant.  This plant is quite rare and no where to be found.  Afraid that my well of water will dry up if I water anything else in the meantime has made me choke off the flow to the other thirsty plants.  I look at their brown and dry leaves and say "What?  Don't look at me!  I don't' have any water...God is going to water you.  What?  Oh this?  This kinked hose? You see this water, MY water, is waiting for something else.  I can't spare a drop.  As I wait for this plant, search for this plant, attempt to plant this plant myself... the water stagnates and grows moldy things.  

Grrr... brownness, dryness, crackly-ness,  is all I see...maybe I should just water the stuff around me.  If the vegetation that grows up chokes out space for this plant I'm waiting to water.. then so be it.  I'll still have a really awesome garden and the water that once bred mosquitoes will flow and be used.  Because maybe that one plant doesn't exist anyway.  Maybe I'd rather have a garden of randomness. 

Maybe, just maybe, that water wont dry up.

I noticed that on another blog she consistently ends it with things she loves.  I think that is grand.  The cynic in me wonders if it's so she doesn't jump off a roof everyday.  I can relate to the need to list my "happies" so that the monkeys don't choke me, mash my heart down to an unrecognizable pulp and then tap dance on my head. I have decided I shall do that more often to bust up the parties they have. 

So here a bit randomly, is another sort of list. 

Deb...I still think about you and Noah... a lot.
Steve.. I still think about you getting shot.  It wigs me out.
D.. I still think about your mom.
Beth.. I still think about your brother.
A&M…I still pray for you.
A…I am praying like MAD for you.
Marc…I am happily jealous of you and live vicariously through you. Although that word isn't going to fit on the board.
G-ma Murl… You are gonna bounce.
Blazer...I think about your past few months.
Liz.. You just rock my socks off like always and I'm so proud of you like always.
Jodie...How you do what you do and make what you make in the time that you make it... is anyone's guess. I'm inspired and terrified that my kids, if they ever shall exist, will know nothing other than chicken nuggets until they are off to college and have only the photo they came home from the hospital with to show for their upbringing.

Babies of St. Louis.  I don't know all of your names, but I somehow want you all to know that I am your Crazy Aunt Lindsey even if you have never seen me or if I wasn't around to give you an appropriate shower gift or hand knit you booties.

In my post-speech analysis. I did not mention Barack Obama's name in the previous paragraphs.  I must want to run for president in 2012.  I DID however use the pronoun "I" several times.  So… that must mean that I think somewhere deep in my heart of hearts... that I just didn't want to type my name out again. 

Cruz it's really not about "me".  ;)

Words

Scrabulous is Fabulous.

 

Ch-ch-changes. Hello Zack, Goodbye Phil, Hello Ryan. Goodbye House Group (?) Hello Isaiah.

 

Did anyone else notice the olympic closing ceremony dudes were wearing Bike helmets?  Of all the dough they spent on that thing, you'd think their hats would get a little more creative than that...  They were the same color as the toe-nail polish of the indifferent woman in the chair next to me at Le Nails.  (Like... Metallic Gold, Red, Black and Metallic Silver cross-hatchies).

 

The chain is glowin'

 

Lafayette and 9th is hard to find.

 

GO USA VOLLEYBALL.  Men, Women, Indoor and Sand, I love it all.  Woo hoo. 

Overheard: "I think the men's team are all really ugly.." 

"I don't care, if you can hit a volleyball like that I would marry any one of them, even the libero, in a second" 

"What about that guy with the breathe right strip for Brazil?" 

"Are you kidding me?  He's Brazilian?  It wouldn't matter if he didn't know what a volleyball was..."

 

Dumb Things I said this weekend:

 

"So Anne, do you ever watch the Closing Ceremonies?"

"I always thought Dred-Locks just appeared." Courtney saved me by saying "When I was little, I thought that some people were just born with bangs and some weren't".

 

Dumb Things I did this weekend:

 

Drove the wrong way to the wrong Llywelyns.  After paying 4 bucks to park, drove the wrong way to the right Llywellyns. 

Drove the not fast way downtown and then drove around Lacledes Landing for 40 minutes getting too ambitious for the 'perfect' parking place.   

Drove the wrong way to get to Deanas house for lunch. 

Drove the route to work on my bike with hot water in my bottle.

 

Apparantly, getting a Lincoln makes you drive like like a crazy person.

 

I'm having an open house party.  For me.  For being back in the country and for my birthday in September.  Come one, come all.  Millions of babies will be welcome. I'm saying this now so I attempt to get my house in proper order for such an event.

 

Noah

Little Noah passed away yesterday.  Today would have been his first birthday.

 

http://thelauers03.blogspot.com/2008/08/364-days.html

Cleaning

Thus, when my heart opened up so very big, and gulped some fresh air.. some emptiness followed... as it often does when you stop running from yourself so hard.  So I'm sitting here now, in a little bit of expectancy, hope and above all, oddly enough some peace. 

 

Just peace.

 

It's quiet, it's full, it's pregnant, it's as if I've made room for something in my soul by taking out some garbage. 

 

It's like an empty apartment waiting to be furnished... yeah that's it.

 

The crap out on the curb is rather rotten and... as I see now, not inconsequential.

 

And I bought a Lincoln.  So I'm also a pimp.  A lonely pimp.

I like this guy...

You should check him out too.

 

http://johnshoreland.com/

Isaiah 43

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and the waves will not overcome you. Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name you are mine. For I am the Lord your God. I am the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. I am the Lord. Do not fear.

When you walk through the fire, you'll not be burned. And the flames will not consume you. Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name you are mine. For I am the Lord your God. I am the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. I am the Lord. Do not fear.

The Shack.

Hello Friends.

It has been a long while; a long while since I've felt like myself. I have some major de-compressing to do, some culture shock to get over still, but double the friends in facebook to remember my time in Switzerland by. (Aside: There it is again.. ending sentences with prepositions... can't that little rule go by the way of wearing white after Labor Day? I just can't seem to avoid it...)

I just finished a sort of "ordained" sickness. I felt like junk on Sunday when I went to church and felt even junkier on Monday morning. I didn't go into work and I was pretty much out like the losing end of a prize fight until 3pm that day and didn't feel much better Tuesday morning. But while I was lying there comatose, I did get some quality reading in. It was work to prop up my head, which weighed exactly eight-hundred pounds according to my sore neck, but once I got it positioned, I spent some sweet time with God and read The Shack.

He reminded me that he invented laughter. He reminded me that he cares for sick kids, and for broken men, and for the ugliest of sinners. He reminded me that he likes Over The Rhine and the soundtrack to Juno too.

He remined me that life with Him is not a dry mouthful of saltine crackers with no milk to be found. He told me tenderly that life with Him is beauty, honey, light, and song. It's decadence in food and drink. In meatloaf and chocolate chip cookies, and fresh baked bread and canoes and blue workshirts and tool belts and cars. He is in every single good created thing. He's in it all. And he likes it. Really. He listens to angry music and angry souls and loves them in return.

He's not grandpa. Judging. Hating, Rueing the day you were born. Still pissed at you for nailing his boy to the Cross. Nope. Not even close. Life with him is not dictated by your last mistake.

He's smiling, hoping, waiting for you to walk up to the Gate so he can bear hug you, make you collard greens, show you more of Himself, teach you more things, and laugh with you.

Not sure why I can't grasp this very well. I want rules to follow because I can do the rules. I am pretty good at the rules. (Well kinda..) I want to know that I am going to be ok. And I think that I am. It will be ok. In this life, maybe not, but I'll never be alone, and in the next life, I will be playing in waterfalls and walking on water with Jesus.

He isn't the author of disaster and evil. He will bring good out of it anyway, but he doesn't purpose it or punish us with it. Man, why is that so hard for me to wrap my thick head around? Why do I re-learn this every freaking time? I'm really not doing this justice here in my petty amateur ramblings, you need to just read this book and see what you think. It's fresh water on your soul. Any person feeling like God has given them the short end, needs to pick this up and read it.

Also, my streak of running away is over. I am done with religion, done with guilt, done with anything that is not in line with the Truth of who God is. I do not want people looking at me to see some one beating herself (and others) up with a shower rod. That isn't who God is. It's not who I want them to see in me.

Hallelujah.

I'm single again, by the way. Hard stuff, but it is the right answer right now.

I'm at more peace than I have been for well over a year.

It's good to be home.

The Cynics Prayer

Pulled from the story of a woman's conversion in the car after being an alcoholic for 25 years.

 

OK, God, I give up. I'm Yours if You want me.
I don't care how awkward I might feel talking to You, or about You.
I don't care how much trouble I have accepting some of the teachings.
I don't care that my entire former self-image was wrapped up in the "party girl" persona.
I don't care if some Christian music is treacle and the lyrics contrived.
I don't care what havoc may have been wrought in Your name in the past, or what may be in the future.
I don't care if some of Your flock seem hypocritical or self-righteous or sanctimonious.
I don't care if there are times when I can't feel Your presence.
I don't care if loving You means I have to at least attempt to love myself.
I don't care if friends roll their eyes and laugh at my conversion.
I don't care if I feel like a faker sometimes, and I don't care if it's harder to do Your will than it would be to follow my own desires, and I don't care if I'm less than perfect at it.
None of that matters. I give up. I want You. And I'm Yours, if You want me.

 

 

Some Pictures of July

"I never realized how much I like being home unless I've been somewhere really different for awhile..."~Juno.

What have I been up to since I've been home. NOT BLOGGING.

DOOING. Which is nice. And maybe a little more normal. My camera lens is cloudy I think so these are a little blurry...but here is a snippet of Baby Tour 2008.

Meet Elsa Rindal.

Meet Isaac ChouMeet Isaac Chou's rear end. (Dad is so proud).
Meet Amelia Wilson. Meet Ruby, and Sadie Coalier, and Riley Hogan.
Meet Taylor and Sophie.

Taylor's "ant" face.

Meet James. He likes orange...

Closer to Fine.

So I think I need something. I think I need to lighten up. Is God a God of Grace or not? Of course he is? Does he love me or doesn't he?

He does.

Wisdom is hidden from the learned and given to the children.

Several people (more than I care to admit really) have been trying to tell me that I am too uptight. Too self-depreciating and I am trying really hard to listen to the advice. God has forgiven my transgressions as far as the east is from the west.

I am tired of trying so damn hard.

Taking the advice to breathe, to live, to let my wall down.

Thankyou J, L, M, D, S, D, M, A. (That is a lot of people).

Im trying to tell you something about my life

Maybe give me insight between black and white

And the best thing youve ever done for me

Is to help me take my life less seriously

Its only life after all

Well darkness has a hunger thats insatiable

And lightness has a call thats hard to hear

I wrap my fear around me like a blanket

I sailed my ship of safety till I sank it

Im crawling on your shores

I'm Home.. Sorta

Hello All.
It's been a minute since you have heard from me and a lot has happened in the last two weeks. I have "finished" up with my job in Switzerland, did some canyoning, some Euro Cup (Holland vs. Russia) madness, and am offically done and back home.

Almost. I stopped off in Fort Walton Beach Florida with my dear friends Ashley Deana, Deb and Anne et. atl. It's been awesome being back home and I only have a little bit of culture shock. (America... please eat better....seriously.) But I am very happy to be home. I was a little sad to leave all of my new friends on the one side, but they have their own gigs there and life will go on as before. I am in a strange place at this time. I feel elated to be back in the states but I have no clue what is next. My house group is in turmoil and likely is dissolved. Several babies have been born in my absence, making me wonder if I need to do a "baby tour 2008" I mean seriously (Bethels, Murphys, Murphys, Wackers, Fabbianos, McKinleys, two of my cousins on my dad's side, one on my mom's and I could keep going but I wont...). Engagements, new relationships, etc. In my gaining a lot, I have missed a lot as well. I feel like a foreign exchange student. I haven't seen an American commercial on Amerian TV in a looong time. Or eaten Peanut butter in a looooong time.

Plenty of time for catching up with all of that.

Life should return to normal. I have decided that I want normal to be the "non-bitter" version of normal. I left my "bitter bags" in Europe. I am done being angry. Maybe because I am done being in Europe, so that would seem easy, but maybe it is just that easy.

I am home. I am happy. I have no idea what my future holds and it's ok. Job, Church, Life? No clue. No clue except that I need to cling to God more. I need to get into scripture more and I needed to balance my work life and home life and fitness life better.

A few pictures for you. Liz came and visited for Canyoning and EuroCup craziness. Thanks Liz for a great time in helping me overcome my fear of falling off a sheer rock cliff backwards... er... I mean rappelling. Note one of the sand sculptures we did in Florida! Woo hoo. I'm only a little bit sunburned...in my eyeballs. Thanks D, Ash, Deb and Annie for meeting me at the airport with no expectations.

Video from Spain

Heart Sigh.

Lovliness From Angela.

Play me a nice game of Orange?

This is Tami again. She and I went to Spain. We crashed her college buddy Matt's family vacation. Sooo glad we did....Spain gets my award for best culture.Madrid is sparkling and clean. Sapphire blue skies may have played tricks on us. We thought we were in Disneyland a lot of the time. LOOK, the Prettiest church I've EVER been in!! (yes EVER). Ceilings of brilliant color. JOY. In a big old church. Nuestra Senora de Aldamuna (Our lady of the somethin or other?). Gorgeous, brillliant, festive... drool.

The Spanish are not afraid of color, or Ham. Ham is a specialty in Spain, (and on this blog) as evidenced by the fact that the ONLY types of Pringles they sell are ... 'Jamon' flavored? We didn't try them.

Segovia is a day trip outside of Mardrid. It was also Disney-esque and painfully blue-skied. We toured a cathedral, a castle, 2000 year old roman aqueduct and ate the best suckling pig in Spain.

That IS a curly tail that you are seeing.A dance festival in Segovia. Girls with castanets in red and black dresses, boys with wooden sticks.

Flamenco dancing. Passionate, Firey, Sweaty and Stomp-y. I thought they would put holes in the stage, and I was a little frightened at times, but they were gorgeous. Smoldery, Dark and sombre, haunting and just completely into character. This culture is not messin' around. They dance like they mean it and they sing and play the Spanish guitars like they mean it...and they fight Bulls to relax:
My high school Spanish culture lessons paid off here... above the Banderillo (member of the Matador's "cuadrilla") and El Matador, below. "Matador" means "Insane" and "Not a member of PETA"
Also to relax...they drink wine and have Tapas. So when in Spain...
We went on a walking tapas tour with a crazy English/Irish genlteman as our guide who called himself 'The Chairman' as in the Chaiman of the Wellington society, which he created after he decided not to be a college prof anymore. I'm not sure what it is. But I am a member now. He was really not all about history, but more about showing the six of us a good time and telling funny and memorable stories, so it was a nice insiders look into Madrid.


I tried to order and get around in Spainish, I found myself understanding a lot of words, but not being able to arrange mine in any sensible order. Some mis-"que's" if you will...

1. I think I asked a waiter if he would "Buy us" when I asked for the check.

2. I called another waiter fat.

3. I basically ordered a game of orange juice. (In Mexico this would have been correct usage of the word, para no en Espana!)



Must hunker down and get work done now. Time is running out.



I am not special. A good friend tells me. It is good to hear.

I am just me.

Bueno. and Muchas Gracias mi amigo de Allemania. Gracias for piles of rubbish as the backdrop for life-giving conversations!

Two weeks more.