A Little Mid-Week Fun

I've been having fun playing my husband's new PS2 game: Guitar Hero Rocks the 80's. And while I'm not a superstar yet, I've managed to move up from Easy to Medium in the last month. Beast Mom & the Battered Ham posted something that has me thinking I should start planning my career in a rock band. I've dreamed up a band name and a cover for our first album. What do you think?


(cover photo by Mônica Fadul)

Wanna try it for yourself? Here's how it works:
1. The first title on this page is the name of your band.
2. The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album. Click the "New Random Quotations" button for more.
3. The third picture on this page will be your album cover. You then take the photo and add your band name and the album title to it, then post your picture. Please don't forget to give credit.

Not What It Seems

I took the Uber-Princess out to play in our back yard the other day. We were out there a half hour or so. The snow was too fluffy to build a snowman or snow fort, but we did get some good angels. Since then the temperatures have dropped horribly. Our days have started off sub-zero and gotten barely warmer. But the sun has been shining, making it look deceptively beautiful out there.

A good metaphor that makes. We go around all the time in our culture looking happy, satisfied. The common question of "how are you doing" is really just a waste of breath most of the time. We all answer "fine" all the time. But truth is, nobody is fine all the time. We're just too hesitant to be vulnerable enough to say "not so good".

I find myself wishing I could do more for others, to help in a constructive way. But I'm not creative enough to be able to think of what would be good. I don't pick up on the subtle clues the way some people can (Llama Momma, I'm thinking of you here). And the whole facade of being fine doesn't help me. I like the times when people open up and share what's really going on. Then I feel like there is some way I can be there for them, whether it is by simply praying or by coming alongside them in their troubles and actively helping carry the burden by making a meal, taking a kid to play, picking up groceries.

But as unwillingly flawed human beings we're reluctant to let on how we really are. We're afraid the reaction will be like what mine is on those deceptively sunny days. I might open the door and step outside, but when I find how frigid it is, I quickly shut the door and stay inside. If that is our reaction when people open up - to quickly shut out their pain or trouble, then no wonder the sunny facade stays up. I just hope I don't react that way. And I hope to continue to learn how to encourage others to be real.

I'm not sure if I've made any real points here. Just pondering...musing if you will. I don't do that often enough these days and I apologize for the frequent lapse in posts. Thanks for hanging in there with me. Maybe your comments can help me crystalize my analogy a little better.

Books, Books, Books

Jenn with 2n's tagged me to do this meme and since I love books I'm happy to play along.

1. One book that changed your life.
The Bible. 'nuf said.

2. One book that you have read more than once.
Chronicles of Narnia-the whole series. As a family we've been through the series at least once (we pretty much read it continually, although not daily) and I read it several times as a kid.

3. One book you would want on a desert island.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling. I just finished book five and while it would be nice to have both books six and seven with me, I'll settle for just number seven. It would take a long while to read and I'm itching to know how it all ends.

4. Two books that made you laugh.
Operating Instructions by Anne Lamott
Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller

5. One book that made you cry.
The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. It is an excellent, excellent book. If you haven't read it - do!

6. One book you wish you'd written.
If You Give A Pig a Pancake by Laura Numeroff. Great concept that is well executed. Kids love to read it and parents too!

7. One book you wish had never been written.
The Road by Cormac McCarthy - it haunts me and plays on my apocolyptic fears. I've had nightmares off and on since I read it, most recently for the past two nights. It was an incredible book, so maybe it's not that I wish it had never been written, but that I had never read it.

8. Two books you are currently reading.
Pop!: Stand Out in Any Crowd by Sam Horn. Good for speakers, writers and marketing. Gives simple processes for coming up with clever titles.

The Suburban Christian by Albert Hsu. I've had this on my nightstand for a while and recently begun reading it in earnest. I'm particularly enjoying his references to local places because those are places local to me, I know these places. Which, if you've read his book, might be a bit ironic.

9. One book you've been meaning to read.
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

10. Five people that I tag (okay, I've only got four):
Wilyhacker
The Battered Ham
Llama Momma
Michelle Gregory

Humbling: When Your Ego Takes a Tumbling

"Oh, Lord, it's hard to be humble when you're perfect in every way". I used to sing that song at the top of my lungs as a child, a crooked lilt to the words. And I remember my parents laughing at me when I did. But truth is, I often lived my life as if I believed it.

Then yesterday I learned a lesson in humility, thankfully in the privacy of my own head. I'd been getting bummed about my abilities as a writer and a speaker. Reading through writer's group threads and blogs by professionals in the field of publishing and speaking, I'd come to the realization that I was one of those relative "newbies" that they were all describing. After all, I have only one book to my credit and a handful of magazine articles. Sure I've attended a half dozen writing conferences and I've been "writing" since I was six. But a "professional" writer that does not make. As much as I hope it might, it doesn't. I was reading these posts to learn more about the industry and what I learned most is that I have a lot to learn. It made me depressed.

But in the moments of quiet, before I went to sleep I began to contemplate reality: I really do have a lot to learn. I am a "newbie" in many senses. And that was humbling. Yet in the midst of that humbling, my depression disappeared. I was glad to know that I don't have it all together yet. It was good to realize how much I have to learn without making a fool of myself in the process. It was freeing to start my day today knowing that my efforts now will hopefully be outdone by what I do next year as I learn more.

Being at (or near) the bottom of the heap isn't a bad thing. It's just a starting point.

Proverbs 15:33 "The fear of the Lord teaches a man wisdom, and humility comes before honor."

Domestic Diva I am NOT

Yesterday things were humming along the Musing household. I'd been up early, had a quiet time, exercised and ran a several errands before picking Uber-Princess up from preschool. Ah yes, the items on my list were being checked off at a feverish pace and I was feelin' mighty good.

Then it came to my attention that the comforter in my guest room needed to be laundered. So I stripped it off and took it to my laundry room, smug as could be about this task that I'd soon be checking off my list as well. Loading the comforter into my Super Large Capacity washing machine, I found myself pushing and shoving at the piles of fluffiness. I'd always washed the queen-sized comforter off my own bed in the machine, but it hadn't ever been such a chore to get it in. Still, the lid closed and I went off to do the next chore on the list, making a mental note to check on the washing machine part-way through the load.

I forgot. Or nearly so. I jumped up during the spin cycle, wondering if the large load might throw it off kilter. And as I burst into the laundry room, a splash went up from the floor where two rivulets of water were streaming toward the wall. I stopped the machine and dashed to the basement. More water. Not lots mind you, but a puddle of some size.

And so commenced the mopping and drying. When I called my husband to check on the proper process for drying out a partially flooded laundry room I gave him the good news first: the floor had never been cleaner under the washing machine since we moved into our house. Thankfully the water was contained to a small area of the basement and things were dry relatively fast.

Well, the weather man called it pretty well yesterday morning: high potential for possible flooding. I just never considered it might occur inside!

Tuscany...someday

I've been searching the past few days for the "perfect" wall calendar. I actually know what the perfect one is and I've used it the past few years. It's the More Time Moms calendar. I love that it is really wide and has big squares with lots of lines for writing appointments. And it has stickers for things like doctor and dentists appointments and "mom's time". Best of all? It's got a pocket in the back for putting all those schedules and school calendars.

Now I saw my perfect calendar in the store before Christmas. But it was full price. I took the gamble and waited until New Year's. Bad move. They were all sold out. So I convinced myself that it was time to branch out and try a different calendar. There are tons of them out there and even a handful made just for "moms". Some of them have stickers. Some of them have pockets. A few even have lines. But none of them are as big or as nice as the More Time Mom's calendar. Unless it's the calendar that same company makes for teens which is identical except for the small pictures and sayings (and maybe the stickers). After taking home a different "mom" calendar and hating it I went back today to try for the teen calendar. It was sold out too.

I finally opted for a regular old wall calendar with photos of Tuscany. I made my own wall pocket to hang underneath. And I have a bunch of stickers still left that I can use. I'll just need to write smaller in the squares. So until the 2009 More Time Mom's calendar comes out in August (which I will get, full price), I'm going to dream of Tuscany. I've always wanted to go there and I'm sure gazing at beautiful landscapes every day will continue to inspire that dream. It won't guarantee a travel date written on any of those pages, but maybe someday...

In Which More Christmas Arrives, Belatedly

On the second evening after Christmas I was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep. Suddenly the thought occurred to me that I hadn't noticed a reaction from Timid Daughter to a certain gift I thought she'd particularly like. Then, being a mom of rather many thoughts, I promptly forgot that idea.

On the third day after Christmas I asked Musing Dad if he'd seen Timid Daughter playing with this particular toy. He had not. But he wondered if in fact, the toy still remained wrapped in the presents hiding spot. I gasped. Certainly it wasn't. It couldn't be. I went to the hiding spot. Deep in the bowels of the secret hiding place I found the toy, still wrapped.

How could this be? I'd done what I'd seen my mother-in-law do on several previous occasions, occasions where I had laughed at her forgetfulness. I'd forgotten a gift! And yet Timid Daughter hadn't noticed, had no reason at all to even consider it. She was content with what she'd received. Yet there was more...withheld. Oh how I berated myself for doing what I'd promised myself I'd never do. And yet there it was, a gift ungiven several days past the Date.

Musing Dad placed the gift prominently near the Christmas tree, in the midst of the detritus of Christmas Past. It wasn't long before Timid Daughter spied the bright wrapping and crept near to read the label.

"For me?" she asked.

I nodded, feeling ever more the rotten mom I suspected myself of being.

"Can I open it yet?" came the next request.

Yet? Yet!? Why would I ever make her wait a moment longer on a gift much delayed. Open child, open now! But we needed to await the presence of her siblings who rattled and clomped noisily in the room to see this oddity. A gift long after Christmas!

It was opened with glee and instigated a whole afternoon of new play. I only recovered from my mistake when I remembered the year that a whole pile of presents for my youngest brother were forgotten by an aunt for at least as long. And as that to me was comedy, I decided perhaps my own small mistake was not so much a tragedy. And perhaps I'm not so alone in neglecting to retrieve all the gifts hidden.

Editorial Note: on the eighth day after Christmas Timid Daughter came to me with a Christmas card she'd made and finally found. Touche, eh?

Post Christmas Gratitude

We had a great Christmas in the Musing House. The uber-princess summed it up best as we drove home on Christmas Eve, "I'm so happy!". We had the opportunity to share the Christmas story from Luke 2 as a family in our church service on Sunday. How special to be able to serve that way together (although there was some consternation on the part of the uber-princess. She remarked to her father as we walked off the stage, mics still hot, "heard and seen, Dad. Not seen and heard". Poor Dad, no one would have known his mistake if it weren't for her).

We also had the great fortune of coming across a living Nativity scene on Christmas Eve. There were even sheep, a donkey and a belching camel. And the sidewalks in one town we drove through were thickly lined with luminaria up and down street after street, a sight more beautiful than any holiday light display because if its simplicity and significance .

Now our house is riddled with the remnants of the Day. Bows and ribbons, packaging, toys. Our family was very fortunate. Me? I'm happy with all the neat things I got. And I'm especially excited about the chance I have to make a difference in other peoples' lives through the Kiva gift certificate I received. If you don't know what I'm talking about, check it out in the sidebar or at www.kiva.org.

The fact that I woke up with the stomach flu the day after Christmas? Not so bad. After all, everything went so well up to that point, who was I to complain. It sure is hard to get back into things now though. I'm glad it's still winter break for the kids. We need more time for playing our new video games and breaking in new Barbie dolls!

A Tribute to Grandma Higgins

I have no baby book, and pictures from my infancy are few and far between, most having perished in an apartment fire when I was very young. But the image that stands out in my mind is a picture of a teeny, tiny me being held by my Grandma Higgins.

Grandma died yesterday at the age of 97. She was a tough and resilient woman who lived for much of her adult life in the same house she raised her children in. I don't know much about her early years, except that she was a farm girl who married a school teacher and had five children. And she was an excellent seamstress, a skill she passed along to my mother, who in turn taught me.

What I know most of my grandmother comes from being her granddaughter - and a far away one, at that. While all of my cousins grew up nearby (several next door and a few one house away), we lived a nine-hour car ride away. So our visits to her house were cause for great celebration, and all my memories of Grandma's are of fun times - playing in the creek behind her house, tag in the field with cousins, sledding down the hill in her side yard come winter.

She was a youthful grandmother well into old age. Her visits to our house usually meant batches upon batches of fresh-baked cookies and lots of game playing. She even taught my sister and I how to play penny-ante poker so that she and Mom could play. And in her later years, once the casinos came to town, every trip to Illinois for her also meant a trip to "the boats".

One year for my birthday, Grandma treated me to getting my ears a second-piercing. But the fun part was watching her get her ears double-pierced too!

A lot of haphazard memories here, cobbled together in tribute to a woman I loved. I'll miss you, Grandma!

Gimme A Gift That I Can Keep On Giving

Have you ever heard of micro-finance institutions (MFI's)? Neither had I until recently when I read an article about them in my business school magazine. Sounds kind of dull, doesn't it? That is, until you understand what they're about. In a nutshell? They make small loans (under $1000 usually) to people for whom it will make a big difference. A vendor in Asia who needs $100 to repair his cart and stay in business. A Guatemalan shop owner who can support her whole family by expanding her offerings at a cost of $250.

The point is, these people's lives can be improved radically with just a small amount of investment. But they fall below the threshold for conventional banking loans. So MFI's fill that gap.

I learned in this same article of a non-profit MFI called Kiva, that in their words: "lets you lend to a specific entrepreneur in the developing world - empowering them to lift themselves out of poverty". The way it works is you log on to their web site, kiva.org, read the stories of businesses in need, choose one to support and contribute via credit card payment through kiva. Typical loan periods are 6-12 months, after which your money will return to you (no, you don't receive interest - I believe that's how kiva generates income to keep running). And the default rate is incredibly low - 0.2% on over $2 million in completed loans.

Okay, I realize it might sound like a scam. But with appearances on Oprah and the Today Show, and support from President Clinton, I think they're legit.

What does this have to do with Christmas? Well, I've put a kiva gift certificate on my wish list. Just think of the joy that would come from being part of helping someone make a better life for themselves. And with that money coming back to me later, I could do it over and over again. In fact, I think I'd like that as a Christmas gift every year so that I could compound the impact. Plus it's a great antidote to my problem of "too much stuff".

Mary to Gabriel: "Will That Be Fried or Scrambled?"

My kids are really getting into the holiday spirit these days. Christmas music blares from their radios and tinkles from our piano. And at the first notes of "The First Noel" Uber-princess perks up and shouts out the name as if it was "Name that Christmas Tune". I'm not sure how many others she knows, but as long as she knows that one, we're good.

However,in the midst of all the celebration, there seems to be a bit of confusion. For one thing, I overheard Timid Daughter accusing her surly sister of being a "grunch".

"Mom, will you tell her to stop being a Grunch?" she asked me.

"A what?", I replied.

"You know, a Grunch. That guy that stole Christmas. She keeps being mean to me and I want her to stop".

"You mean the Grinch?", I ask. Then I stop myself. Why should I correct her? Really it's much more fun to see her go around accusing people of being Grunches. And maybe they are. After all, who knows what a Grunch is?

Then there's the carol that every kid loves to sing simply for it's long drawn out chorus. Gloooooo o o o o oooooooooo o o o o ooooooo o o o oooooria. It so happened, during a car ride while they were all belting this out along with Michael W. Smith or whoever that was on the radio, that Little Miss History fessed up.

"I always thought they were saying in EGGSHELLsies deo. But why would there be eggshells?", she wondered aloud.

"Ah yes, dear. That's just one of the mysteries of Christmas", I wanted to say. But I didn't. I just agreed that eggshells sounded kind of silly in a song about Jesus.

Now if I could just get them to stop singing "Jingle Bells, Batman smells...".

My Kind of Store

I think I've finally found a grocery store I might sort of like. You know I can't stand grocery shopping. But maybe that's just because grocery stores make it so I can't stand them. I'm thinking I've found a new place to shop where they understand me better. In fact, I think maybe it's a match made in food shopping heaven.

Have you ever heard of Bloom*? It's a new concept in grocery stores that I think has a lot of the right stuff. First of all, they've got special nearer-to-the-door parking spaces for quick trips and moms with kids. What great thinking! After all, how quick is your trip for a gallon of milk when you have to hike across a big parking lot and then hike across another expanse inside the store? Did I mention that they have their milk near the front of the store where it's easier to grab and go? So I'm thinking when I've got a quick trip for milk and my kids are with me, I'll be parking right next to the dairy fridge where I reach out the window, grab a gallon, pay and go. Okay, so maybe it's not that easy. But it still sounds like a great improvement.

And there's more: you can choose to check out as you go by getting one of those hand-held scanner things (you know, the kind that they give you when you're registering for a wedding and the groom-to-be carries around like it's a futuristic gun thing and scans all sorts of odd stuff so when you're opening gifts as newlyweds you're going, "Hey, what's this drill press? And why did somebody give us Risk? Did we register for these things?" and he's just grinning and grinning. Yeah, one of those things). The way it works at Bloom* is you scan stuff as you put it in your cart. Then you just swipe your credit card at the door to pay and off you go. Works for me, especially since half the time I'm bagging my own groceries because I like to use my own eco-friendly bags.

Then there's the Bloom* staff. They're so full of energy. You walk into the store and they're singing the Partridge Family theme song and dancing and tossing stuff into your cart. Plus they wear one of my favorite colors: lime green. You can see them here.

Yup, Bloom* is the store for me. Sounds super-convenient and efficient. If only the nearest store wasn't 750 miles away.

Technologically Challenged

I'm learning something about myself this week: I'm technologically challenged. Oh, it's not that I don't know how to make use of current technology. It's that I don't know how to function without the use of technology. My calendar is kept online. I write up my daily "To Do" lists with the aid of an online time manager. Weather forecast? Online. Favorite TV show? I watch via internet. Christmas shopping? I do as much online as I can.

Thus now that our cable service has become virtually non-existent (leaving our cable internet crawling below dial-up speed and our cable phone mostly inoperable) I'm in a lurch. No connection to the outside world save dialing my cell phone or stepping out the door. No shopping, tv watching, blog reading, list making. I'm stuck, stuck stuck!

How did I do all these things before the arrival of my laptop less than one year ago? And how is it that I've become so dependent on the internet? Is there any hope for me overcoming this addiction? I'm in withdrawal here, folks. And the cable guys won't be here until Saturday. Eeek!

I'm throwing this post out there into the bitstream to see if it will float. It's my message in a bottle to you all. I'm stranded here. Don't forget me. And send help if you don't hear from me in another week.

Now That's Commitment!

Wishing you all the best & many more years! Love you lots, Mom & Dad!

Gratitude for All Things

Today as we give thanks (those of us in the U.S.), undoubtedly many tables will be filled with talk of all the good things that have blessed those gathered. And truly we need to be thankful for those things and not take them for granted. But after hearing a sermon at a wedding last week, I'm rethinking my sources for gratitude. The pastor was exhorting the married folks present to thank God for those things in their spouse that once attracted them and now grate on their nerves. He pointed out that the grating was more a symptom of our own need for refining in our character than that of our spouse. And so we should be grateful that God would use our mate to show our weaknesses and use their "faults" to scrape away at ours.

I plan to spend a little time this Thanksgiving, perhaps before I go to sleep tonight, to give thanks for those things that don't appear to me as "good". Because I trust that in the hands of a loving God, even those things He will work for good in me. Indeed once I include those sources of blessing, I'm sure I'll reckon that I have been overwhelming blessed.

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose". Romans 8:28

Making the Right Decision

Timid daughter brought home a plastic bag filled with "books" she had written at school. There was "Things I Like", "Animals", "My family" and so on. It was fun to look through and see her personality and preferences revealed. She was proud to show off her work and read along with me as I went through each one.

When I came to one book (I don't remember the title), I found these words on the first page: "Mommy is my first favorite". It was accompanied by a drawing of a woman, presumably "mommy". The next page said, "Daddy is my second favorite" with a picture of a long-haired dude, that is, "daddy". When I read this page I turned and looked questioningly at timid daughter. Her face blanched. Quickly I turned to the last page, "Sister 1 and Sister 2 are my second favorites too", it said, with a drawing of these two girls.

I set the book down and turned to Timid Daughter. She still had a stricken look on her face.

"Will you show that to Daddy?", I asked.

He was sitting nearby, but was paying no attention to us.

Timid Daughter shook her head, grabbed the book and quickly folded it up. Just then one of her sisters asked to see it.

"No!" came the fierce reply. Timid Daughter hurried to the garbage can to dispose of the book. What had been "truth" to her on the day she had written the book, maybe some weeks ago, was no longer so. Her conscience had been smitten and she made the wise choice not to reveal her unkind thoughts.

No other words were spoken of the book and Daddy never saw a copy. If he reads these words, he will know that he holds just as tender a spot in Timid Daughter's heart as her mother does. And in that same heart resides the Holy Spirit who convicts of sin. What blessing!

Editorial note: Lest you think I'm harsh in judging favoritism, it was Timid Daughter who did the judging and through her reactions exposed the true nature of her thoughts. Preferring one parent over another is normal and probably common. In this case though, it was more than just expressing a preference.

The Victory Dance

When was the last time you pushed yourself to do something you thought was beyond your abilities? As a mom I think it's part of the definition of the job. Raising kids is tough on a good day. But outside of parenting, what motivates you to go where you've never gone before? And how does it feel to get there?

I've been pushing my limits almost daily in an effort to promote myself as a speaker. And while it's challenging and tiring, it's also pretty rewarding to see that I'm capable of more than I thought. The funny thing about pushing yourself is that adrenaline rush that comes with success. Anyone watching in my kitchen window the past week or so might catch me in the midst of a victory dance. You know the kind: a full-out whole body boogie complete with chanting, "Whoo hoo! I did it! I did it! Go, me! Go, me!".

Uh, yeah. So you do this too, right? I'm not the only mostly reserved, somewhat quiet, suburban mom who breaks into a wild dance when she proves herself able to leap tall buildings and convince program directors to consider booking her for a meeting. Right?

Not Cuttin' It

It's the time of year where (if your children are schooled outside the home) you get a report on your children's progress. I look forward to these parent/teacher conferences. It's good to see someone else's perspective on your child's academic & social abilities. And generally we enjoy these conferences since, for the most part, we get positive feedback.

But I just got a progress report from the Uber-Princess's preschool that gave me pause. She's right on target for most things - socially, emotionally, academically. However, it seems as parents we have failed her in one respect: she is somewhat lacking in "scissor skills". That's right, the girl can't cut.

It probably doesn't help that we never actually let her use scissors at home. And that's because...well, I have a thing with giving sharp implements to three-year-olds (never mind that she just turned four, she's in a three's class at the school). So her first experience with cutting was at preschool, which, you can imagine, was less than stellar.

So for now our goal is to work on improving her scissor skills. I'd say she's got her work cut out for her, but that's what got us to this point in the first place, isn't it? The good news is when I arrived home from work the day we got the report I found the Uber-Princess already sitting at the kitchen table making mincemeat of the Sunday coupons. She cut and cut for well over a half hour. I just hope this gets her on track for passing preschool. And if you have a three-year-old (or younger), let this be your warning: if you don't give them scissors soon, they may not make the cut.

Eight Things

Thanks to the Beast Mom for tagging me. My blogging pen had run dry before this prompt. We'll see if this gets things flowing. First off:
Here are the rules. (1) Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves. (2) People who are tagged need to write a post on their own blog (about their eight things) and post these rules. (3) At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. (4) Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

1. I love fleece. It is a wonder fabric because it totally, utterly, completely blocks out cold and keeps in heat.

2. I can't stand being cold. But from October through April the temps around here are usually below my threshold - many times well below my threshold. So for that half of the year, fleece or no fleece, my nose and hands are usually like ice. Yuck!

3. I wrote my first book when I was six. It was fully illustrated and was about the good ship SIJ (which was really my grade school because this was what the head priest called our school during his addresses over the PA system. He'd end by saying "Fifth grade overboard" or fourth grade or any one of the grades and each class always hoped it would be tehm grade and when it was theirs they cheered wildly).

4. I owned a Sony Walkman before they were in vogue. But I still don't have an iPod or MP3 player or any intentions of getting one. When would I ever use it?

5. I used to know the whole actual dance routine for Staying Alive because I did it for a school talent show. Now I can only remember a few parts, but definitely more than most people.

6. I took a break-dancing class as a junior-higher and learned the whole routine for Michael Jackson's Thriller. And yes, I still know a portion of that too. Maybe if I combined it with the moves from Staying Alive I'd have a whole dance.

7. On the dance theme: we actually did the Macarena at our wedding. Then again at that point in time it was pretty new and hadn't been beaten to death.

8. More dance stuff just because: I was sent to ballet class (and tap) for a bunch of years as a young child in hopes that it would bring me grace. No such luck. The only grace I have is what I've gotten from Jesus.

Okay, I need to tag somebody but it's too close to bedtime to think of anything else. Maybe in the morning - so watch for your name here later.

Putting It Out There

I spent six hours over the last two days sitting in a mostly empty gym, behind a mostly filled table, waiting. Around the perimeter of the gym were a line of other mostly filled tables, with people sitting behind them, waiting. In between long stints of waiting a person or two would enter the gym. At first, most of us behind the tables would get to our feet and appear alert and interesting. The person (or persons) would slowly walk past each table, stopping to look and engage in conversation with the lively table-sitter, perhaps even picking something.

And so it went, hour after hour. As the waiting progressed, table-sitters here and there would wander from their own table to visit another, quickly returning to their post when a new person arrived. But over time, when a new person would pass through the doors, not as many of the table-sitters would bother to return to their own spot, or if at their table, could muster the energy to stand.

It was wearying, this waiting to be picked. So much like grade school gym. The captains going down the line, assessing your skill and then passing you for another, more able body. But in gym, there was a rule, an unspoken rule: once a person was chosen, they were yours. No tradebacks. No refunds. Being picked last was a cruel fate. To be returned would be worse.

But in business, there is the opposite rule: the customer is always right. And so I, after all those hours of waiting, received the ultimate rejection: "I came back to return this. It wasn't what I really wanted". It was shocking, to say the least. Being picked, then tossed back. A complete breach of etiquette. But what could I do?

Only one thing and that is this: to warn you dear reader, a craft show is not a department store. Many of the people there are selling you the work of their hands, in essence a piece of themselves. Shop wisely; be respectful. And remember what it was like in grade school gym.