We have no excuse. Unlike our usual get-home-sometime-during-the-8-o’clock-hour-with-no-time-or-energy-for-dinner routine, we were home by 6:30 p.m. tonight. And what did we eat? John had beer. I had wine. We both ate dates and pepper jack cheese. (Yes, you read that correctly.)
Read more...Left on my voicemail this morning a minute plus into the message:
“Blah, blah, blah, long story short, I need some advice.”
“Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things.” ~Luke 10:41
I have to ask myself this on a nearly daily basis: If I believe in God, do I believe in God enough not to worry? Do I believe in God’s love enough to say, “I trust you, Lord. Whatever you will, I want.”
At Costco, we saw a boy use the three-pack of English cucumbers as a gun. He was on one knee and firing toward the back of the line.
Read more...“You’re quiet,” my husband observed. “Are you OK?”
“Yeah, I’m just thinking,” I answered.
“That’s so unlike you,” he said, but I knew he meant the quiet part not the thinking part.
“Your mommy is so pretty,” I told my 9-year-old goddaughter as we walked hand in hand, her mother ahead of us.
“I know,” she said, completely aware of this fact.
“You’re pretty like your mommy,” I told her.
“Thank you,” she replied. “But I have my dad’s head. I have a big crater.” She said this while patting the back of her head.
(After some trouble with the buttons and the door)
I said: "This reminds me of an NCIS episode."
The stranger said: "I know which one you're talking about."
The other day my mom asked what a “twit” is.
I would laugh, but I find newfangled media just as confusing.
I’m a tiny bit obsessed with Kombucha.
I so love all its grand promises of health and wellness that I don’t even mind its vinegar smell.
The inside of my right arm is noticeably paler than its left counterpart. That’s right. I have a charming cell phone tan to go with my alarmingly white shoulders.
Read more...When I was a kid, I cleaned my room by dumping its entire contents into the hallway.
My approach to organization hasn’t changed much.
I don’t know how the same five-day, 120-hour time frame can feel longer some weeks than others. But Monday, July 13, 2009 to Friday, July 17, 2009 was officially the longest week in recent memory.
Read more...My cousin and I must be the only two with Comcast’s basic cable package because I can’t find anyone else complaining about the recent changes in the channels.
I have like 50 channels I couldn’t care less about, but I’m missing the five I watch all the time.
And let me just say, those 50 channels are showcasing a lot of crappy television.
“What are you doing?” I asked my husband as he snapped rubber bands in the air.
“I’m using my land to air attack on the mosquito,” he said. “I hit it. I didn’t kill it, but I hit it.”
I think it’s OK to get mad at God.
Just try not to hold a grudge for too long.
Head to toe pink, including her hair.
And don’t forget about the poodle dyed to match.
I was saying how some people make the same mistake over and over. She said, “God is patient. He’ll let you try again and again.”
Read more...This word: Docile
Always reminds me of this word: Dolce
And I think there is a correlation.
The more docile I am, the more dolce life is.
My friend Sheila always has crushes on food. She’ll have a fling with a fruit and it will last all summer. She and blueberries have been quite a pair for awhile.
And I know how she feels because I’m currently in love with frozen yogurt. Not the fro-yo from the 80s, but the super tart and creamy varieties – original, blueberry, lemon, mango, pomegranate (the list goes on and on).
I’m obviously not the only one caught up in this craze. Downtown Los Gatos has three such shops.
My dad called this morning to let me know 12:34 p.m. would be a "special moment" for him and my mom.
"12:34 p.m. and 56 seconds," he said.
My parent's met in July, but not on the eighth, so I wasn't sure what he was talking about.
"Write it down," he insisted. "12:34:56 7/8/09."
Oh, my dad is too clever, I thought.
Then in the afternoon, I got this text from my niece:
"Today at 5 minutes and 6 seconds after 4 it will be 04:05:06 07/08/09. This will never happen again in our life. Pass it on."
Seems my dad wasn't the only one with numbers on his mind.
“Always remember that Dead Freakin' Last is better than Did Not Finish which is way better than Did Not Start.” —Allison
Allison, I wish you would have included your last name when you commented on the New York Times story back in May. I didn’t read that story. Even if I had, your comment was number 102. I’m quite certain I never would have seen it. Lucky for me, someone else read the story and the comments and liked what you said so much she quotes you at the bottom of her emails.
What if every circumstance, every detail of our life is God saying, “I love you.”
Read more...“When students ask, ‘When did you know you might be a writer? How did you know?,’ one of the things I tell them is that they may be designed for that life if (a) they need to do it in order to feel good about themselves, even though (b) doing it almost never makes them feel good about themselves.”
~Jim Shepard, author and teacher
The priest said he met a couple who, after many years of marriage, was deeply in love.
He asked them their secret.
“I do whatever he tells me,” the wife replied. “He does whatever I want.”
My friend, an agnostic who married a Catholic, says he has faith in God. It’s just that his idea of God is different than everyone else’s, he explains.
“I’ve always thought of God as working for me,” he says.
“Actually,” I say, “I don’t think that is so different than everyone else. I’m always saying God is working behind the scenes for our benefit. Even when everything looks like hell, he has a plan.”
Her: “How are things?”
Me: “Oh, fine. Good. I’ve had terrible allergies. This new med has made me so tired. I think I’m going to have to stop taking it. But other than that, I’m fine. How are you doing?”
Her: “Well, I almost died two weeks ago, but I’m OK.”
And that, my friends, was the day's reminder of why I should never, ever complain.
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