Go Crazy Folks!

Yeah Birds!

I DIDN'T JINX HIM!!

http://www.longdrivers.com/news/remax/102606.html

Un-believable, considering he didn't get out of round one last year...

I was trying to get to Vegas this weekend to see it myself.. but no tickets cheaper than donating my left kidney.

Probably just as well..

Keep your fingers crossed for my bro!!

Not to Jinx....

Saying "not to jinx" ensures no jinxing..

And I'm not superstitious anyway...

So I don't mind telling you that Dusty is in round 6 of 9 in the Remax World Long Drive Championship.

Boo-to-the-yah...

He knocked out the previous world champ...

How cool?

Too Long.

Who knew that Boston's Pizza had a wireless connection? Who knew that there was such a place as Boston's Pizza?

Long time no blog.

Life on the road has obstructed my ability to blog as of late.. and I’ve had some crummy internet connections in my hotels as of late as well. And lets just be honest… I’m spending some serious time being smitten with a certain someone. It’s a very good thing.

Only… I feel as if I’ve left a club of sorts.. I feel as if I finally don’t get to be the one who knows what it feels like to be single. I hate that feeling. I hate knowing that people most dear to me now put me in a “them” category. Ugh. The sheer “Ugh”. Does it not count that I’d been exactly there for ten years previous?

I want to be like the Cary Murphy’s of the world. Cary Murphy, who last year, at her New Year’s Rockin’ Eve party noted I was one of the only people there without significant other to smooch and walked up to me and planted one fat on my cheek. She had no idea at the time how much that meant to me. As if she were almost saying… you know it’s great… and all, but not worth the heartache you make it… you don’t have to “be” anyone to be here with us… it was sweet.

That said, I’ve had some very good teachers on how to be a good fighter, a good receiver, and a good woman, so it’s nice to put those into practice in an actual, real-live relationship. He’s great. But he’s still just a guy.

He’s still not Jesus and will never be.

That said, I have a large text message bill.

In other news, I have elevated my golf game. Wow I shot an highly questionable 85 the other day. On the back 9 I shot at 39. That is absurd for me. It wouldn’t pass USGA scrutiny, but I was hittin the sticks.

Speaking of sticks. Dusty is in Vegas as we speak hitting his sticks, hopefully for some big money. Proud of my bro. He’s da man, the quintessential “Big Deal”.

Cardinals wins remind me of nostalgia of days past. When the Cards won the series in ’82 (saying “in ‘82” makes me sound like a sports bad-ass, yes?) Getting to see my dad jump straight up out of his lazy boy and clap his hands over his head and almost TOUCH THE CEILING made my three year old self much impressed. I mean… the CEILING was far far away to me then. When did world series tickets get to be like buying a small business? I went to the series in 2004 with my Dad on standing room only tickets and they weren’t quite so absurdly expensive. I dunno what happened there. But looks like I’ll be watchin’ from the couch this time.

Speaking of Tickets.. if anyone knows anyway to get USC vs. Notre Dame tickets and can assist me in getting said tickets.. I’ll… I’ll…. Be your best friend. Yeah.. move over Joaquin Phoenix.. the position will be filled.

I hit a possum on the way to Terre Haute this time. That makes my wildlife bloodletting streak go up by 50% in the last two months. I got a squirrel earlier this fall.

Someone told me that if the department responsible for clearing road kill ever went on strike we’d be knee deep in otter brains before Christmas.

Someone else who was not a native St. Louisan or a Cardinal fan told me that if the Arch fell over and crushed the stadium tomorrow, he wouldn’t bat an eye. Heh.

Does anybody remember the Carol Burnette Show?? Wow. I caught a glimpse of an infomercial peddling her collectors edition DVD’s for her show and I was just reminded of how funny that lady really is. Great gams too.

I’m going to buy them, or request them for Christmas or something. The DVD’s not the gams.

I became a statistic for the second time by running over my upper retainer with the lawn mower. Curse that Orthodontist for telling me that his adult patients NEVER lose their retainers.

Reaching way back in blog-history I would be CRAZY not to mention the TOOTH BIKE, Boneless Arm Roast Anniversary special, and horse-drawn carriages build from cornstalks. Thus IS Greenville Illi-noise.

Boo to the Yah.

The crazy hippy pirate praise band the Psalters were there. And they were fantastic. I danced. I danced with the wild abandon of someone who didn’t care who was watching.. I used to never care who was watching. Something changed. Not sure when, but regardless… I danced. In my bare feet in a carpeted almost “garage” in the middle of nowhere… where they had no tickets to purchase, and homemade snacks at the door. Oh memories of college. When shirts were flannel, and things were simpler, only we thought they were much more complicated. Hooray for being the oldest people in the room. Hooray for my two dear friends who make me laugh so hard and who have bacon wallets. YES BACON WALLETS. Oh man.

Stick that in yer bacon wallet and fry it.

Oh Thank Goodness

For the little church volleyball league I find myself playing in.

We play in a gym in a church, the gym behind the kitchen. It's carpeted. We pray before we play and large tattooed men in muscle shirts who love Jesus tell us about the ministry of the church and then we bang balls around in the name of Jesus.

It's even the marooney color of my church that I grew up playing basketball in. Felt weirdly good. Like I can't believe I forgot that this happens around the midwest, I can't believe I forgot. I'm so glad it still happens. After the too-cool-for-school days at washu, the snobby anti small town place for your mind to 'expand', I'm so glad we got to play with Josh, the mentally handicapped sixth man on the other team who never ever stopped smilling the entire time.

The small towners got it right.

On completely different note, I find it ODD that we cant end sentences with prepositions... sometimes there just isn't a better way to say it. Anybody with me? It seems completely arbitrary.

The Apple Picker

He says:
"That's great news".
"I called Adelaide today".

"Lives of Service".

Things are "Stupid Good".

I say things are stupid good.

Greetings from The Haute.

Many things have happened since we last posted.

I turned a year older. Twenty seven is delicious so far. Heard it described most perfectly by a sara of mine, "Old enough to be making decent money, and still young enough to not have old people responsibilities." Yeah, I'm down.

I now have a beaux. I'm not going to put much info up here about him. He's in the public eye (well, ear, rather) enough. But he's great, and great for me, and I'm very excited about this developement.

I have started week number in Terre Haute in 'Lindsey-style'. Hows that? By leaving the lights in my rental car on all night, requiring a member of the Hampton Inn housekeeping staff to jump my Ford Taurus. I was a half hour late to my first day of training, but that got worked out. I didn't miss anything and I now have a badge on a stringy bungee thing that I pull out and let snap back to my hip.

It's fantastic.

I have also already snagged a spot on a volleyball team for Monday nights in Terre Haute. Which is also fantastic.

On the way home I definitely drove by a semi-sized caged truck that was chock full of live chickens, not terribly unlike this one:


Only in Indiana.

Branson, Busch Stadium. Whatever.

"I got Shoji Tabuchi's Autograph!"













Who?

"Uhm...I mean So Taguchi's autograph.. "







Love, Love, Love you, Mom!.

Moving to "High Ground".

That is "Terre Haute"

Looks like I'm getting shipped off. I'll be living in Terre Haute, Indiana for the next 6 months of my life. I get to come home on weekends, no worries, the Lou will not be Murl-free ALL week long.

I'm actually rather excited about it. (Ask me in a few months what I think..). I'm mostly glad because life seems like it will slow down a bit. I get to focus back on one job and to take some evenings to rest more. I am welcoming that.

Not welcoming missing my volleyball night, or my small group night, but I'll survive, I suppose.

I'm still pretty tired. Was in Terre Haute, on Monday (there and back) then on Tuesday flew to KC, stayed up too late working, then got up way too early and sat through a 10-hour meeting.

In a word I'm nauseous-tired.

Had to give a presentation today infront of a lot of people that should have made me quite nervous. It went pretty well, and people actually stopped checking their e-mail when i was presenting. That was nice.

So there is a light at the end of this busy-tunnel, and good times, in a place where someone makes my bed for me everyday, which means my bed will actually get made everyday. This is something that I'm actually ready for.

"At this point in my life" Says Tracy Chapman.

Insert Clever Title Here

Crazyness. Life is a little nutty right now.

I can't begin to tell you how crunched I am at work. (Lindsey you always say that) NO it's TRUE. Too busy. Even my boss says so.

I'm frustrated in general. There is no curing it. I AM type A, Marc, you were right.

I get to this place where there are so many things to do that I cannot decide which priority is the most important. So I, a lot of times, just go limp and start cleaning my desk just so I feel like I've done something of value.

I am even too tired to try to put something on here that is worth reading.

Folks, I'm zapped, a little discouraged, a little sick, and am just not going to make any apology for it.

This is me right now.
With all the gusto of a bowl of oatmeal,

Linz

BLIMEY!

Oh sad day! Everyone's favorite man in khaki shorts died today at the prong of a giant stingray. In reverance I say of Steve Irwin: He was a beauty.

Psalm 13

For the director of music. A psalm of David.

1 How long, O LORD ? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? 2 How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? 3 Look on me and answer, O LORD my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death; 4 my enemy will say, "I have overcome him," and my foes will rejoice when I fall. 5 But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.

6 I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good to me.

My Bro.

He did it!! Again.

Qualified for the Remax World Long Drive Championship in Laughlin, NV. Heck yeah.
This year he said was a bit harder, considering the burden of having qualified relatively quickly last year and the larger number of competitors entering the sport. In any case, I'm uber proud of him. This time it was 343 into a headwind.

I'll, as always, keep you posted on my brothers studly progress.

Good job Schmusty.

Confessions of a crappy flosser.

Deep dark sadness. I think sometimes that Jesus is like getting a root canal.

I have to get a root canal. Ok. So I haven't been to the dentist in quite sometime. The last time I went the guy did such a bad job, it freaked me out and I haven't gone back. "Oh maybe you have a hypersensitive tooth or something.." maybe it feels like you are boring holes into my head and hot lighting flashes of pain shoot up into my brain.

Maybe I have a cavity underneath the filling you just put in, wacko.

I'm such an idiot. I've been in pain for so long and have just tried to ignore it and chewed on the other side. Whilst the tooth keeps rotting along. Just because I pretend it's not there, doesn't mean it's not there. Ugh.

So I finally get up the nerve to go to Dr. Pmurph, and he looks at me like I have three heads.

But. The good news is, I'll feel better when it's all said and done and I'll be able to eat chocolate again, be able to drink water again, drink hot tea, open my mouth again. Hooray.

I'm such a wuss. It's just a root canal.

Hey Boys and Girls!

Over the Rhine IN ST. LOUIS in the Duck Room at Blueberry Hill, Friday, September 8. You all need to come to this. If you like MUSIC at ALL.

It's only my favorite band of all time.

Come one, come all.

Come from everywhere.

Frying pan... to the side of my head.

Ruthless Trust, Brennan Manning

When the brilliant ehticist John Kavanaugh went to work for three months at "the house of the dying" in Calcutta, he was seeking a clear answer as to how best to spend the rest of his life. On the first morning there he met Mother Teresa. She asked, "And what can I do for you?" Kavanaugh asked her to pray for him. "What do you want me to pray for?" she asked. He voiced the request that he had borne thousands of miles from the United States: "Pray that I have clarity." She said firmly, "No, I will not do that." When he asked her why, she said, "Clarity is the last thing you are clinging to and must let go of." When Kavanaugh commented that she always seemed to have the clarity he longed for, she laughed and said, "I have never had clarity; what I have always had is trust. So I will pray that you trust God." "We ourselves have known and put our trust in God's love toward ourselves" (1 John 4:16). Craving clarity we attempt to eliminate the risk of trusting God. Fear of the unknown path stretching ahead of us destroys childlike trust in the Father's active goodness and unrestricted love. We often presume that trust will despel the confusion and illuminate the darkness, vanquish the uncertainty, and redeem the times. But the crowd of witnesses in Hebrews 11 testifies that this is not the case. Our trust does not bring final clarity on this earth. It does not silence the chaos or dull the pain or provide a crutch. When all else is unclear, the heart of trust says, as Jesus did on the cross, "Into your hands I commit my spirit" (Luke 23: 46). If we could free ourselves from the temptation to make faith a mindless assent to a dusty pawnshop of doctrinal beliefs, we would discover with alarm that th essence of biblical faith lies in trusting God. And, as Marcus Borg has noted, "The first is a matter of the head, the second a matter of the heart. The first can leave us unchanged, the second intrinsically brings change." The faith that animates the Christian community is less a matter of believing in the existence of God than practical trust in his loving care under whatever pressure. The stakes here are enormous, for I have not said in my heart, "God exists," until I have said, "I trust you." The first assertion is rational, abstract, a matter perhaps of natural theology, the mind laboring at its logic. The second is "communion,
bread on the tongue from an unseen hand." Against insurmontable obstacles and without a clue as to the outcome, the trusting heart says, "Abba, I surrender my will and my life to you without any reservation and with boundless confidence, for you are my loving Father."

Shrapnel

I hit a bird with my car the other day. Mid-flight. (the bird was in flight, not my car... damn dangling participles...) It was rare. What is wrong with birds lately? I heard that someone else did this recently too. All the birds in Missouri are juiced.

I don't even think it died, just a weird pathetic thump.

I love where I work. I love the people I work with. Today I was talking to perhaps the guy I admire most in our company and our mentor, and he was telling me that he A. Likes to wear womens pajamas as opposed to mens because they make just nightshirts, as opposed to two piece pajamas for men. B. That he doesn't go to wal mart, except for the one time he had to buy worms for his sons science project, and a second time for when he needed emergency shaving cream, and found a substance for women that was not in a can, but just poured out of the container, whatever it was... and C. That he started purchasing the product, by the case, directly from the manufacturer to avoid wal-mart.

There is one man, secure in his manhood and not afraid to walk his talk. He also is an avid creme brulee fan, and wears pink. A hero to us all.

This weekend I'm driving to Denver with my bro, we are crashing on Poshak's floor, if anyone has any messages/parcels to send him. I leave early early Friday morning. Jim, i'll tell him to ice his... nevermind.

My roomate is getting married, and leaving us, in pink tennis shoes.
My other roomate may as well be getting e-mails from God about her direction.
Beth Moore is over. Very sad. I, however, still have about 4 weeks to complete. (yay for me).

My ipod is broken again. Any five of you want to help me out with this?

There is this crazy guy on cable TV that is called the Dog Whisperer. He is like this crazy dog psychologist and it sounds completely cheese whiz, but this guy is amazing. I've seen him put a spell on Sandy and it's nuts. (1000pts if you can name that movie).

My sewer line has backed up, hopefully for the last time. Mu ah ah. The city of Webster Groves and I are going to k it's a. And it's going to be great.

Uhm go see Talladega Nights. Fun-ny.

I dropped off some of the last 8 years of bad fashion choices yesterday at goodwill. If I knew how easy it was I would have done it ages ago. I am the antithesis of trendy. I blame the frame. It's hard to find curtains for this window, especially trendy ones.

My Gorgeous Crooked Family Tree

Like her, I am angry. I feel cheated and sad. Like her, I think he's a jerk. Like her, the hippie life has a draw to me that I cannot deny. Unlike her, I do not like soy latte's with double shot espresso. And unlike her, I like sausage, and bacon.. but I do understand that beans doused in bacon bits are not a good compromise. Like her I laugh often and am happy with simple things. And yes, that girl was snarky, I agree with that.

Like her, I am judgemental. I am afraid of the things that I do not understand. Like her, I love to dance. Like her, I say things that I don't realize hurt people the way they do. Like her, I want to take care and control of people.

Like him, I do not understand the pure type B. I do not get messy hair, and I like tasks. I like getting things done, and I like a game of golf. I like to help people. I like to be a hero. I understand responsibilities and sacrifice. When poked at, I lash back harshly, hoping to wound as I have been wounded. Like him I like to entertain.

Like her, I care about how I look. My own flaws bother me. Like her, I laugh and move and speak, like her I talk schmoopy to babies and puppies. But the dog whisperer hopes to break me of this. Unlike her, I say what I feel and wish more people did. Like her I fear conflict and laugh to lighten up rooms.

Like her, I do not put stock in ceremony, per se. Unlike her I believe in God and everything he stands for. Like her, I cry. I weep when I see my grandmother hug her in her wedding dress. I weep when I see the necklace that all three of my aunts and my two cousins have worn in their weddings. I weep when he said his vows and showed his heart. I laugh when my dad felt him up.

Like him I dance for joy. Pure unadulterated joy that makes people wonder for just a second "Is he ok? What the heck is unadulterated joy? It's been a long time since I danced like that.. I wonder if he's ok?" Johnny B Good. I love her as he does. As the little girl who was his little boy too, she was my idol in many ways and I took her lead in many ways.

Like him I am awkward and insecure, but people think I have this confidence and comfort in my own skin. Like him... I'm so like him.

Like him I wonder if people see me. I am crippled and wonder if people see me. Like him, I also wonder if I will get married before I die, and I wonder if there is cake. Where the hell is the cake?

Unlike them, I have not held grudges. I have let myself out of prison. For I can hold no other in a prison but myself. So I am unlike them.

Like her I wish for the fairy tale. I wish for the perfect fantasy with whispy white lanterns and light streaming in through the gauzy curtains. I wish for perfect place settings and gorgeous flowers. I don't care how much it cost, for a night, it's perfect and I could die happy. I don't care if it puts me in debt, it's a memory and it's worth it. Like her, I schmooze and smile for the camera, and I entertain the crowd and long to be someone. Unlike her, I want the fairy tale to run deeper than the surface. It matters more to me that the icing is on some cake instead of a house of cards.

Like her I'm freer than I was. Like her, I find adoption a special, a precious gift of God's perfection right her on crappy sad earth. I like spirituals sung a capella near a creek and I like chocolate chip cookies and elmo's dressed like birds. Like her I like the spiritual and the sappy and make no apology for it. Dolls and china, jury's still out. I hate him. But more than that, I feel sorry for him.

Like her I'm young and innocent, so impatient, so tired, so very very very loved just because I exist, and so very very lucky. I like giving hugs and kisses and I like ketchup too.

Lindsey, in the Kitchen, with the Cooking Spray.

This past weekend for my mother's birthday, I thought I'd do something extra special for her by trying to kill her.

I decided to make french toast for breakfast. The boys were gone in Atlanta and it was just the two of us for the day so I had her fire up the griddle and she sprayed oil on it for me. She then sat down and drank her coffee while I mixed up the stuff, and make the finest french toast I've ever made. She even commented 'Lindsey this is really good.. No I'm serious. On a scale of one to ten.. YOU are an Eleven.'

No she didn't really say that, but she did like it. And I liked it too, cleaned up every last bit. As I sat there fat and happy, my mom, who had started to clean up the kitchen turns to me and asks:

"Lindsey! Why is the cap off of the furniture polish?"

[Pause]

"Well, I suppose it's because I just made the french toast in it. "

We laughed the slightly crazy laugh of people who didn't know if they were going to die or not.

The cooking spray that she used, got put away unbeknownst to me... and I just grabbed the nearest spray can which just happened to be sitting on the island next to the griddle... and happened to be Gordmans Furniture Polish. Yummy.

Ingredients; Natural Oils, Surfactants (fancy word for 'soap') , UV sunscreen, and propellant. I think we'll be fine. I think.

I should do a commercial for them:

"Guardsman Furniture Polish with UV Sunscreen cleans, polishes, and helps furniture resist fading caused by exposure to sunlight. Guardsman polish protects while producing a deep, brilliant shine with a fresh wood scent and does not leave a dulling wax, on your french toast."

"Thankyou and Goodnight."

Charrrrrr....

I chop and kick and punch the air.

Because I love Charter Communications.

I make an appointment. Charter GRACIOUSLY confirms the appointment for cable service one day before the appt. They don't call you, they have a robot do it. And leave you a unintelligible voice message, but they contact you nonetheless.

Then they chain you to your house from 1 to 5 pm on a Saturday. The Robot calls again. Confirming the appointment again AND letting you know that the technician would be there in an hour. SO I sit on my front porch and I wait. I wander to the front yard, I water the plants, I look up one side of the street and down the other... I chat with my roomate, A WITNESS who can verify my presence at my residence.

Imagine my suprise when I toddle back into the house to see if the Cable company, had, by chance, had it's robot contact my robot. And it had. To CANCEL my appointment. Thanks guys. Cause I wasn't WAITING ON THE FRONT PORCH AT ALL!!!

Bad words. BAD words.

Goo. I was so mad. I'm still mad. Granted the cable in the entire universe was out due to the storm so they realistically couldn't have done anything anyway, but in principle I'm right and I'm ticked. :)

So I call to make sure I'm not charged a cancellation fee, and I got to listen to every zip code that didn't have cable service. I should have felt compassion toward the other cable-less victims, but I was extra ticked that I had to LISTEN to EVERY SINGLE zip code that had no cable service.

In case you weren't aware, that was a big storm folks... a big big storm. A LOT of zip codes later, I FINALLY got to a person who was no help and transfered me to billing where I got to listen to the zip codes again. Before I hung up (one of those times that you wish you still had a land phone to slam down, the snap shut just isn't gratifying) the nice lady says "Thankyou for Choosing Charter" I said. "Ma'am, I didn't HAVE a choice!"

I'd rather slide down a slide of razors and land in a pool of lemon juice. HEEYEAH.