Rethinking Halloween

Romans 15: 5-9
5 One person esteems one day above another; another esteems every day alike. Let each be fully convinced in his own mind. 6 He who observes the day, observes it to the Lord; and he who does not observe the day, to the Lord he does not observe it. He who eats, eats to the Lord, for he gives God thanks; and he who does not eat, to the Lord he does not eat, and gives God thanks. 7 For none of us lives to himself, and no one dies to himself. 8 For if we live, we live to the Lord; and if we die, we die to the Lord. Therefore, whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s. 9 For to this end Christ died and rose and lived again, that He might be Lord of both the dead and the living.

Welcome to October. Its time to carve ghastly faces out of pumpkins, buy your obligatory sugar treats coated with even more sugar and watch preteen girls change themselves into something resembling more of a Gray’s Anatomy chart than a “French Maid”. The latter scenario involves an investigation of anyone wishing to dress up for October 31 festivities. The investigation requires no legal authorities, nor does it entail a review of Halloween’s origins. For anyone who knows a child this examination is crucial. It poses the ultimate question: Who or what influences a child (anyone under age 18) to choose their own costume?

A child is born. Said child grows older and by the time the child hears the phrases, “You’ll understand when you are older” and “You can do that when you grow up” a hundred times each they unrealistically determine that they are an adult. And we, unfortunately, as adults, dream of being children again. As babies our parents dressed us up in ridiculous outfits without needing Halloween as an excuse. How many family Easter and Christmas cards show exasperated tots in exaggerated bows, dresses adorned with yards of fluffy tulle and three-piece suits with a clip-on tie and penny loafers (currency included!)? Creatively costuming ourselves (and others) to be something we are not has always been a harmless tradition. Or has it?

We bring our children into stores which display dozens of aisles of intriguing uniforms without giving a thought to the power of our purchase. When your child approaches you with a mask sure to terrify Grandma out of her Depends do we scream, laugh and then place the item in the cart? What would happen if before you ventured out for that perfect costume you sat down and asked your children the following questions?

1. What do you want to dress up as for Halloween? Why?
2. Do you know what your friend’s costumes will be? If so, why do you think they chose it?

Asking those questions is not “interference”. It isn’t harmful, it protects our children. A fourteen year old girl should never wear revealing attire. According to the Bible, sex is for marriage alone and enticing another to “take notice” of something they legally and morally cannot have is beyond ludicrous. Minors do not have the “right” (no matter how much they argue) to dress provocatively. Boys, although having more militant objectives in their play, should not dress as though they have aspirations of becoming a serial killer.

When in doubt, ponder the following:
1. Does this costume choice allow others more comfort to engage in behavior/conversation in which I wouldn’t want my child to participate?
2. Does this costume reflect Biblical standards of modesty and purity?
3. Could I bring my child, in the costume they want, to church?

Romans 14: 8-9

For if we live, we live to the Lord; and if we die, we die to the Lord. Therefore, whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s. For to this end Christ died and rose and lived again, that He might be Lord of both the dead and the living.

Romans chapter 14 does not give exception to holiday and particular calendar dates. The chapter encourages us to eat what we want in celebration of an event (e.g. turkey for Thanksgiving) and to pick the day we wish to honor any holiday. But while we live (every day), we live it to honor Christ. His death enabled us to be free from death. So should we honor him by dressing up as a fictional murderer (via Hockey mask), a devil or a witch? This Halloween, let’s purposely dress to impress our living God, not to impress those who wish to embody death, misery and sorcery.

Familiarity Lovers Anonymous

At the end of September, my husband completed the requirements for receiving his Master's degree -- yay! While waiting for the magical diploma to arrive in the mail he's also started looking for full-time work. He and I have discussed several times about preferred states to reside. We're currently in Arizona (in the same town as his parents), my family is in Minnesota and Wisconsin, his remaining family is in Georgia. So wouldn't it make sense to prefer living somewhere close to family and familiarity?

Last weekend I mentioned our situation to an acquaintance whose response shocked me: "Why are you limiting yourself to these places? In this economy you should go where the jobs are!"
Her answer reveals her past. Immediately after marrying a military man she and her husband moved from state to state, country to country. The couple had no knowledge of where they were to live next or for how long. She inquired, "Have you ever lived away from home?" My response was, "I have lived in unfamiliar places, places I didn't care for, but never outside of four hours from family." Abruptly, she replied, "That's pathetic".

Excuse me? Now, I have been known to argue for extensive amounts of time to prove a point and this conversation was no different, albeit the time allotted for me to debate. As politely as I could possibly muster, I explained that there is nothing wrong with preferring a certain location as long as preference doesn’t equal stubborn resolve.

Moving to urban Arizona from rural Minnesota last summer was one of the most thrilling but difficult decisions of my life. It is no surprise to anyone who knows me personally that my reaction to this momentous transition has mirrored a bad rollercoaster ride. I'm heading up, looking forward to the ride ahead. I reach the pinnacle, see the heights and opportunities all around, but almost as immediately as the thrill arrives I have the horrifying realization that this trip will be like nothing I ever expected. I feel like throwing up. My heart races as gravity yanks me down to earth and in that one-second drop it occurs to me that maybe a terrible mistake has been made. Why did I decide to try this? Who convinced me to get on this cursed contraption?

Ironically, while my body is lifted back up to the heavens, my stomach sinks. I faced crooked twists and turns; even a loop-de-loop. My knuckles lock up into a pale white death-grip around the flimsy "safety bar" and harness. However, at the end of the ride the passengers around me all seem fine. They joyfully laugh and squeal with delight at the adrenaline rush. Meanwhile, I long to feel solid, stationary earth beneath my feet.

And just as I exit the ride, my husband asks if I’d like to try a new coaster called “The Master’s Degree Move”. What’s specifically terrifying about this ride is that no one can see the final destination. Sure, everyone knows that passengers exit safely; a Bermuda Triangle this is not. But before we leave the amusement park and head back home we must try the ride. There is no way around it. He assures me that no previous coaster passenger has ever died on it and that it only lasts two minutes, max.

We get in line. Others waiting represent park customers who have tried and loved the “move”. Not surprisingly, a peppering of others have never attempted the ride and have never cared to. I glance at hubby who is not paying mind to the petrified. He, expecting the adventure of his life so far, cannot wait to sit in the uncomfortable, fragile plastic seating and soar over a warped steel track with nothing but a Heimlich maneuver bar protecting him from potential danger.

We reach the front of the line. The person immediately behind me notices my apprehension and asks if I’ve ever been on this ride before.

“No, though I’ve been on others many times", I say, "I've never really enjoyed it. I’m trying this one so my husband doesn’t go on it alone.”

Her response? “That’s pathetic.”

R.I.P. Grandpa

Early this morning, my grandpa died.

This hurts. However, the circumstances behind the hurt are unusual. When I was too young to remember, my parents decided to divorce after several years of marriage. Do I believe that they should have divorced? Heck yes. While I don't condone divorce and wish the term never existed (along with marriages that begin for poor reasons), there are times when it should absolutely be allowed. But it still doesn't mask the pain of losing an immediate family member. After all, if my grandpa had never existed, neither would have my father and, in turn, my sister and I.

Divorce carries with it many myths, one of them being the following:

Myth #1 - Divorce only affects the former husband and wife.

ABSOLUTELY WRONG, especially if children are involved. And it is in that case which I have struggled for a long time. I do sincerely believe that my parent's divorce was a necessity. However, their following actions were not. I wouldn't have cared that they hated each other so much if it weren't for the fact that their despisement of each other resulted in two children never getting to know their biological father. This was not the fault of one parent, but of both.

On tuesday, I will have attended three funerals on my dad's side of the family. For the preceeding two, my mourning for the loss of my family members was overwhelmed by not a mourning of death, but the mourning of a life that I had never really known and never will. Sure, my dad's family (who I only reconnected with after his own funeral) can tell me stories about how my grandparents and my dad were, how they loved me and how they wish they could have seen me grow up and then attend my upcoming wedding. But stories and "what if's" are a poor and incomparable substitute for a genuine relationship.

This coming July I will make a vow to share the remainder of my life with and marry the man of my dreams. And when the words, "for better or worse" are spoken, they will be MEANT and (with God's help alone) acted upon. For my sake, my fiance's sake and for our future children's sake.

This funeral on Tuesday will be the absolute last time I mourn out of guilt for a life never known, and not for a person's precious life.

The Definition of Terrorism

Chris Matthews recently interviewed someone for their opinion on the new nominee for Secretary of Health and Human Services. He asked if this particular nominee could withstand the "terrorism of the anti-abortion activitists". He later then restated his thought by saying, "verbal terrorism". If you click on the title of this post you can video of his Freudian slip.

During Dubya's Administration it was at one point determined that "Weapons of Mass Destruction" was the most overused phrase of the year. The incident proved that when people overuse words it strips away its meaning and effectiveness. Fast-forward and now Democrats have claimed the word "terrorism" as their own and have completedly voided its meaning by using it to describe anyone who disagrees with a liberal viewpoint.

When 9/11 happened we rarely heard the word "terrorism". I never especially thought that it would become applicable to our country. Televised color-coded security ratings? Forget about it. In the aftermath of 9/11 news anchors were talking about the probability of success with hiding explosives in candy. Yes, we (and when I say, "we", I mean primetime news "reporters") did go overboard with speculation and everyone took the word "terrorism" too seriously. U.S. citizens believed that their lives were in constant risk of being taken by the terrorist who supposedly lives down the street or in the same apartment complex you do.

But 9/11 happened eight years ago. Now the word "terrorism" is a Democratic synonym for "intolerance". If you believe that marriage should be only between one man and one woman, that unborn babies should have a chance for life outside of the womb and that conservative values do not translate into being "old-fashioned" but rather as totally relevant to today's culture, then you are deemed a "terrorist".

Never mind the actual terrorists who we are currently fighting and seeking to destroy us. Never mind the persons behind the four airplanes that were taken hostage and crashed into two national landmarks and a field in Pennsylvania. Never mind those who cheered and danced in the streets when over 4,000 people died in the 9/11 attacks. And never mind the people who routinely videotape themselves threatening the United States, desiring a complete massacre of the entire Western civilization. Those people don't matter. To the Democrats, the people who actually desire a chance to save unborn lives are actual terrorists.

The likes of Chris Matthews, Keith Olbermann, Katie Couric, Barbara Walters and all other liberal "journalists" need a new dictionary and thesaurus.

Democracy at it's Worst

I did not vote for Obama. In fact, when I heard that Obama was a possible contender for the Presidential office, I rolled my eyes and knew that I was NEVER going to vote for him. When celebrities and the general news media compared him to Superman and said that on the day of his inauguration that his approval rating was at 68%, my eyes rolled again.

Now my saying that I did not vote for him does not mean that I don't mean him well. God Bless the guy and his family and the future decsions he will make for this country. I cried at the inauguration, in fact. How could anyone watch it and not? It was absolutely historic in more ways than one. When the people sitting behind me were saying things like, "I wish someone could shoot him right now" and "Now more babies will die", I shot them a look that could have killed. And rationally, how can you criticize a President for decisions he has not made yet?

Well, Obama is now our President. And he has been in office for not even one week and I am already furious at the decisions he has made. Yesterday, he reversed a policy set into law by President Bush. Big deal,right? A liberal might say, "You disagree because you believe in the conservative movement and nothing else!". Well guess what? Anyone who believes in the right to life, life at conception and that the United States should be sovreign should be furious at what Obama did on Friday.

http://www.cnn.com/2009/POLITICS/01/23/obama.abortion/index.html?section=cnn_latest

Obama has basically signed away taxpayer dollars to fund international causes that have NOTHING to do with the United States. Are you mad now? Guess what the "international cause" was? Abortion! Obama says that American taxpayers will now be funding abortions made in other countries! How can anyone look at this and agree with it? I want to hear a liberal's reasoning on this right now! UGH!

A quote by Obama:

"It is time we end the politicization of this issue," Obama said. "In the coming weeks, my administration will initiate a fresh conversation on family planning, working to find areas of common ground to best meet the needs of women and families at home and around the world."

What kind of "Conversation" did you initiate, Obama, and how did you strike common ground with ANYONE, especially inside the United States? In the last week I have cried twice because of Obama. The first time it was at his inauguration. The second because of this last policy reversal.

Don't believe it when people say that your vote doesn't make a difference. Because of other voter's choices, the money I have earned and will earn in the next 4 years (at least) will now enable some woman in another country to kill her unborn child.

Is this an example of democracy at it's best?

Things I Love

1. Being greeted by a very happy and hyper dog when I get home from work
2. Someone saying "Job well done"
3. Peace and quiet
4. True Friends
5. Being humbled by everything God has done, and His reasons for it!
6. Holding conversations with people over 100 years old
7. My fiance'
8. My family
9. Having the winter off from mowing the lawn
10. A car that starts and runs well
11. Good health
12. Seeing someone smile because of something I did
13. People who are genuine in their caring for others
14. Mourning - it means that I have cared for someone
15. Realizing that someone who has passed is in a better place for all eternity
16. Sitting in a warm bed and reading a good book
17. Seeing an "A" on a report card!
18. Learning something new and incredible
19. Cinnamon-flavored gummy bears!
20. Making lists that make me happy. :)

Grow Up

You know what? You aren’t funny. You may think that your snide comments just roll off my back but they don’t. I expected you to be happy for me, but it’s obviously clear that you aren’t whatsoever. You are making this situation about YOU and frankly, it’s beyond irritating and insulting.

I have found someone who completes me, loves me for who I am and wants to spend the rest of my life with me and I want to do the same for him. You may want the best for me (and that is wonderful) but your way of showing it through sarcasm has to stop. Go ahead and call me sensitive…this is a sensitive subject which I believe deserves your full support. It’s just common sense.

You have raised me to become someone who is capable of making their own decisions but yet your lack of trust in my doing so is an insult. Am I only supposed to make decisions which work to YOUR benefit? If that were the case, then I wouldn’t be ME.

Yes, I realize that my decision to marry a wonderful, caring, sweet, intelligent and supportive man was abrupt, but it was not without “warning” or premonition. You have raised your concerns…none of which are valid. You have no concept or getting to know someone who is vastly different from you without judging him and assigning him a stereotype that is completely inaccurate. But that is no concern to you. You prefer stereotypes over personal knowledge.

You say you want to learn more about him. By all means, then do that! You do not need my permission! You talk to him as though everything is perfect and then when it’s just the two of us you feel the need to express your “opinion”, which is nothing more than some rude comment you must have thought of during the previous night. I hope that your saying that made you feel proud.

Let me make my own decisions without constantly being fed guilt and doubts about this upcoming marriage’s success. This marriage is going to carry with it many changes for the both of us and the remainder of the family. I’m well aware of that and it certainly hasn’t made my decision any easier. It just means that change is coming. You have to prepare and adjust for that, just as I will.

If you have concerns, voice them without inserting vague forecasts which you couldn’t possible predict. You are not a fortune-teller, you are a parent. And as such, you have to think before you speak. This is not comedy central, this is real life.

And at the risk of sounding like a parent, I have one piece of advice for you – GROW UP!

No Clue What To Do

I have no clue what to do with the next couple years and it's driving me absolutely nuts.
Do I stay at my current place of employment as long as possible?
Do I switch schools in order to get a bachelor's degree sooner but pay more in order to do so? Should I attend that school online or in the evenings or weekends? Do I want to put in all those miles or move to that town (an hour away) to do so? Or do I just wait once I get my associate's degree and save up more $ to pay off my current loans and then get back into school?
WHAT THE HECK?!?!?!
I so enjoyed being a kid and not having to worry about these things.

The Motherload

I have found the motherload of all genealogy websites regarding my family and am now going to work on the biggest project of my life - organizing it all! EEK! I've found family photographs, obituaries, wedding announcements and even a full family tree on my dad's side! WONDERFUL! It's scrapbooking time!

Precious Life

I work in a nursing home. And lately I have become more aware of how precious life is in general. Since I have started working in my current profession, it is almost impossible to not connect with residents and almost equally impossible to not feel loss when the resident(s) pass away. It is a rewarding job, yet challenging when these losses occur.

An example in point:

I befriended a resident named “Lucy” almost immediately when I began my work in the activities department. When she was alert, she was a sheer joy to be around. She had THE BEST sense of humor. She would sing when asked to, make jokes and laugh constantly. When she smiled, you just couldn’t help but smile back. One of her favorite things to hold and play with was a rubber chicken. She would hold and squeeze it and make chicken sounds when the nurses passed by.

Several months ago, I was informed that Lucy would be admitted to the hospice program. It was estimated that she had only less than six months left of her precious life to live. At first, I couldn’t understand why she was admitted, she seemed no different than before. It wasn’t long after that thought that I saw Lucy cry more often, even at the simplest question. It took much encouragement to make the tears stop and she needed more physical contact than ever before. I would hold her hand and tell her that everything was fine, when both she and I knew that it wasn’t.

Two weeks ago I saw the most immediate decline in physical ability that I have ever seen. She would not eat and rarely opened her eyes. She found no joy in the activities that previously brightened her day. It was two days before she passed that I went into her room to visit her. She could no longer even make a coherent sentence; she just babbled and stared at me, falling in and out of sleep. I could not even talk for fear of crying. For a half hour, I just rubbed her shoulder and stroked her hair, hoping that her pain would end soon. She stared at me with one eye the entire time.

Two days later while I was on my lunch break, Lucy passed. I walked by her room just as a nurse had gone in to check on her. She immediately came out and asked for another nurse to help with cleaning Lucy up and getting her ready for the mortician to arrive. I asked if I could take some time to say “Goodbye” to Lucy and the nurses graciously allowed me to do so.
I kept thinking, “I was just sitting here enjoying my lunch and a great book and someone just left this earth to be with the creator!”. How does this work? How am I unable to feel something when a person leaves this earth when they are in a room less than 500 feet away from me?

But I am certain of a few things.
1. Life is precious beyond belief and beyond my understanding.
2. You must show love to your friends and family before it is too late.
3. Be thankful for your life in the past and especially the life you have NOW.

I hope that you all learn this before it is too late.

God bless everyone and EVERY LIFE on this planet!

All The Proof You Need

Look at these pictures and tell me that there isn't an intelligent designer!

You Are Not Cool

Ok, car....

What's wrong? Something got you down? Have I not been paying much attention to you lately? Yeah, I know that I've been more lenient to drive you since gas prices have soared, but I really can't help it. But yesterday you did something that was NOT COOL. Not cool at all.

I've given you loads of patience, tons of maintenance and lots of TLC. As I figure it, you owe me. I've paid for you, pampered you, HECK I even bought some lovely air freshener and new floor mats on the day you came home with me. I've waxed you, given you wonderful car washes, installed a new air conditioner and radiator. When you have a boo-boo I take you to another town 10 miles away so you can get the best possible service.

I've even named you. And I think that Ethel is a lovely name for you. It fits your purplish-grey personality so well!

And then yesterday you flash that horrible light that I so despise seeing.

"Service Engine Soon". You don't even go into specifics. It would be so much more helpful if you could share a little more detail than that. I would hate to run through every possible scenario of hypothetically driving down I-94 and having the carbeurator pop through the hood of my car when instead you could just tell me that it just needs a little tweek. You are freaking me out!

Ethel, I am disappointed. We've been through so much together. I would hate to give you over to a cranky old dumpster owner and have you crushed into a 2-foot by 2-foot cube.

AND DON'T THINK I WON'T DO IT!

I thought you loved me, Ethel. You shall now face my wrath.

But please, could you turn off the engine light?

Human Tornado Siren

Stop laughing.

I don't want to come across as a party-pooper. Really, I don't. But your laugh is incredibly annoying. I wouldn't even call it a laugh, but a yell with vibrato. How in the world do you do that? You must have a diaphragm the size of a car tire in order for you to project the kind of sounds you do from your throat.

Yeah, what you saw on tv was pretty darn funny. But I'm sitting right next to you and blood is coming from my ears. And are you trying to hold it out as long as you possibly can? Do you have music in your head and you are just laughing for a full measure straight? Keep it to a 32nd note, please. In a very fast tempo. This is irritating.

Another thing: If you are going to do your trademark laugh, normally people will give a little warning sound. And I emphasize the word "little". Perhaps it could be a slight giggle or some quicker shallow breathing. But for you to hyperventilate for what seems an eternity and then unexpectedly (and terrifyingly) blast sound out of your mouth as though you were imitating a Gilbert Gottfried impersonation of a tornado siren....that's not cool. It scares me.

Just please, stop.

Is This What It's Like?

When I was a kid, I did not like boys….AT ALL. Boys were gross. Boys had cooties. If you kissed a boy, you got warts. I imagine that most girls believed this. I would rather have been a tomboy and play with the boys in the dirt and mud and worms than kiss one! However, this did not stifle my 2nd grade “marriage” to a boy named Chris Schalz. It happened on the baseball field. All my friends were there and threw mulberry leaves filled with sand in celebration. But Mr. Schalz was a player. The very next day I saw him smooching with the local 1st grade tramp named Nicole. Everyone knew she was an easy catch. Our marriage went down in flames. I became an 8-year old Elizabeth Taylor and spent the next 2 years traversing the playgrounds, finding solace only in a plutonic friendship with a boy nicknamed “Pickle Juice” and the seagulls who would gather in the grassy field right in front of where I swapped my innocent vows with Mr. Loose Lips.

My aversion to all things “boys” went well into my teen years and some of my college years, too.

“No, I do not want to dance with you.”

“No, I am not going to the prom.”

“I am never going to be married.”

“I am woman, hear me roar!”

“Yes, I am engaged…his name is Simon. No, you don’t know him.” (I had worn a ring on my all-important finger in order to convince someone who was interested in me that I was not available, when in fact, I was).

I had so convinced my family that I was never going to marry a man that they naturally assumed that I was a lesbian. One day, out of the blue, my mom came into my room and said, “You know, Ellie, if you are a lesbian, it doesn’t matter to me. I will love you all the same.” I responded by dropping my jaw to the floor in surprise and yelling, “I’M NOT A LESBIAN! YES, I’M SURE!”. Of course, I wasn’t a lesbian, but technically I was not interested in men either. I was attracted not to any gender, but to the idea that I would grow up without a partner and would be thrilled about it! Don’t let anyone convince you that cynicism does not have incredible power over your dreams and goals!

However, over the past few years I have had an urge to find that special someone to spend the rest of my life with. I talked about it with friends (which felt very strange, almost alien), went on dating websites, and even went on an impromptu date with someone I met in a grocery store (On a side note, I wouldn’t recommend that. But that’s another story altogether.). After a recent move, I let up on the searching for a date bit but then decided this past January to give it another go. On the very first day, someone contacted me to express his interest in me. I thought, “What in the world? Have you even seen my picture? Why would you want me?” See, that’s how powerful cynicism is. It can come back to haunt you and corrupt you even after you swear to never think in those negative ways ever again.

But this online guy and I started to e-mail each other. Every night. Then our e-mails turned into MSN chats. For hours. Then our paths crossed in person! And I tell you this as someone who has converted from the religion of cynicism and self-loathing to believing fully in the following anonymous quote:

"Love - a wildly misunderstood although highly desirable malfunction of the heart which weakens the brain, causes eyes to sparkle, cheeks to glow, blood pressure to rise and the lips to pucker"

I’ve come to the following conclusion. My boy is great! My boy does not have cooties (and if he did, it wouldn’t matter ONE BIT)! When I kissed this boy I received no warts, only a kiss back. And I would trade in all my years of being a tomboy and playing in the dirt and mud and worms for one more day with him. And I should clarify that I’m not actually kissing a boy, but a man of my own age (25). Haha. Please do not send the feds after me, this relationship is fully legal!
Is this what love is like? Please tell me, because I have not experienced anything quite like this before. Instead of reciting the quotes I listed out earlier, I can’t wait to say the following to him and only him:

“Yes, I will dance with you.”

“Yes, I would love to go to your company Christmas party with you.”

“Yes, I will marry you.”

“I am your woman! (No roaring involved)”

I can only hope that this feeling lasts forever with this boy.

"Nunc scio quit sit amor." Latin, "Now I know what love is." by Virgil (Classical Roman Poet)

And I Was "Like" - No You Weren't!

Several years ago, the actor Edward Norton appeared on the interview show “Inside the Actors Studio” where he was asked by host James Lipton about his least favorite word. Mr. Norton replied, “Like”, to which Mr. Lipton soupy rolled his eyes back in his head and replied “Oh yes, me, too!”. I have now joined the likes (pun intended) of Mr. Norton and Mr. Lipton in declaring that my least favorite word is “Like”.

Not “like” as in “I like ice cream”, but in the sense where people use the word in describing an action or feeling. For instance, today I was standing in line inside a gas station and the woman in front of me was talking on the phone in super-speed motion. Her conversation went a little somethin’ like this (huh!):

“So I called my friends and I was like are you going to pick up and they did and they were like “hello” and I was like “Uh..hi, where have you been” because for the past, like, week or so I was like freaking out because I couldn’t get a hold of them and I was like “Did they get hurt” or like “Are they ignoring me?” and so I like talked to them and they were like “We’re, like, Ok” and I was like relieved and said “Like, what have you guys been doing, like?”

I listened to this and was like, “MAKE IT STOP!”. Since when has cheerleader talk been acceptable? When I was a kid I would say the following cheer with my friends to crack each other up –

“Like totally, for sure
I just got a manicure
The sun, up there,
Is bleaching out my golden hair!
24, 34, I don’t know the stupid score!
Like, gag me with a spoon!”

And we all thought it was funny because it was too ridiculous to think that someone would actually speak like that. Lo and behold, fiction has now become fact!

Another statement I hate: “That was the bomb!”

Yet my 48 year old mother says it with such enthusiasm that you would think she had gone back in time to become Paris Hilton’s twin. When I think of that statement, I wonder how it came about. No one would ever look back in history to reflect on Hiroshima as being TOTALLY cool! So when someone talks about a really tasty avocado dip, why does “That is the BOMB!” apply? I don’t get it. Is the avocado dip packed with so much yummy goodness that the flavors interact with each other and then explode in your mouth and blow all your teeth out? If that’s the case, then I really don’t want to try it.

What about “You Go, Girl!”. Where do you want me to go? Are you saying I should leave? Is that a compliment or do you want me to get away? Why are you pumping your fist in the air when you say it?

“Talk to the hand, cuz the face ain’t listening!”. No, I would rather not talk to your hand. See that lump three feet above your butt is the only extremity that has the holes on each side called “Ears” and those holes enable you to comprehend the words that are coming out of the bigger hole in my lump, my “mouth”. Say it with me now, “Hands do not have listening abilities”. And the word “ain’t” isn’t a word. I don’t care if it is in the dictionary!

I wonder what the suicide rate for high school English teachers, like, is.

Yeah, It's Been A While...

So sue me! You won't get anything out of it! Could I be any more busy? I think not. In the midst of going to work full-time, attending 7 credits of college, working on getting my certificate in Biblical Counseling and leading a small group at church...I have this blog (among others!) which should have been updated at least once a month...but that has not been the case! So bring it on!

Today He Gave Me is Back!

http://www.todayhegaveme.blogspot.com

Please participate! I look forward to everyone's responses!

God Bless

I Want It That Way

I have been hiding a deep secret for the last week or so. Now it’s about time that I spill the beans. I bought the newest Backstreet Boys album. AND I LOVE IT!

Wait. Not only did I buy the album, but I bought it twice. And made a copy for the CD player at work. So, technically, I have three copies of this album, spread out on 4 places: my Ipod, the burned CD for work, my computer, and the actual CD copy. Why did I buy it twice? To support the boys, of course!

I have been watching videos of the Backstreet Boys on youtube. And I found a new treasure – the video for “I Just Want You To Know”. Every time I watch it, I can’t help but crack up. You’d better watch it, too.



I remember the days of talking with my friend Jill about how we loved these guys, which one was our “favorite” and how we had decorated our bedroom walls with posters and magazine cut-outs to the point where no original wall was to be seen anywhere. Placement was important – you wanted to wake up in the morning to see your favorite staring right back at you (and if you must know, it was Kevin *sigh*).

Jill and another friend and I woke up one Sunday morning at 2am to get a ride to the twin cities in order to be able to stand in line at 6am to get tickets for one of their concerts at a large outdoor event that started at noon. The boys weren’t scheduled to perform until 9pm that night. It just so happened that that day in September would be freakishly hot outside. I ended up passing out from heat exhaustion, getting sunburnt through my clothes and not eating anything for 16 hours straight. In the end, the boys cancelled their performance at the last minute – three of the boys had lost family members that DAY. Jill and I were heartbroken and we got back home around 12am. The little girl inside me cried.

I remember driving with my friend Jill to the closest Wal-Mart from our Minnesota small town (a ½-hour away) immediately after school (we had been talking about it all day) to get the newest BSB album, “Millenium” and the RollingStone magazine with their picture on the cover. I swear to the living God that I listened to that album every single day for a year straight.

The following fall, my aunt got me tickets (front row balcony, yeah!) to their concert at the target center in Minneapolis. Jill and that same friend and I woke up early to make a sign to hang from the balcony that said “BSB RULES!” We drove to Minneapolis, decked out in our BSB t-shirts and met up with my sister who also came to the show. I have pictures of the concert to this day. Needless to say, it was freaking awesome. And I say that with a straight face, people. We went back to school two days later and bragged to classmates about the show.

After graduating high school, my friend Jill and I actually played the trivia board game and I knew the answer to every. Single. Question. I knew their birthdates, names of their brothers and sisters, favorite colors, hometown, how they met…the list goes on and on.

During college my affection waned a bit. I still bought their albums, but it was the kind of purchase that you put at the bottom of the target basket, underneath the underwear, bra and pamprin purchases. And I was heartbroken (again!) when I heard that Kevin, my fave, had quit the band to pursue “other interests”. *sniff, sniff*

But then last February, a friend through church told me of this Christian concert that was coming to town, a bunch of artists who included a member of Third Day, Shane & Shane and wouldn’t you know it, Brian Littrell (a Backstreet Boy!) who had just put out his own Christian album. I went to the show and in the back of my mind (behind my worship for God, of course!) I could not believe that a Backstreet Boy was less than 50 feet away. I bought his Christian album and very much enjoyed it.

Then the boys have to go and tease me with this new purchase. And I’m not just saying this out of bias, but, the album is terrific! It’s their best one since “Millenium”. If my schedule permits, will I go to their concert if they come to MN? You bet! Will I buy their next album? In a heart beat. BSB will probably go into the list of artists for who I will always buy their music, along with Michael W. Smith, Train, Aerosmith, and Chris Tomlin.

So don’t tease me or feel sorry for me. I’m a big girl and can make my own choices. Y’all are just jealous! You wish you had their talent! I HATE YOU!

Ok, calm down there, teenage Ellie. It’s Ok. Life doesn’t have to be this way anymore.

I have nothing more to add.

Except that N*Sync sucks.

New Address

Yes, I changed the address of my blog. Why, must you ask? Well, I didn't want my last name to be so visible. You know how privacy is such a big issue on the internet these days. Why the ridiculous name? Well, that was my nickname in high school, duh! And just so you know, my new-found desire for privacy has nothing to do with the next post I am going to write.

SO THERE! Deal with it.

Did You Play Sports?

One of the first questions I'm asked when someone meets me for the first time isn't about my job, where I live, or where I'm from. 90% of the time, the question revolves around my height.

Yes, I am a tall person. Five feet, eleven inches to be exact. When my height is stated, the next question is pretty much a given.

"Did you play sports in high school?"

I HATE that question so much. When I was walking through Wal-Mart at 16 years old, this old woman walked up to me, cane and all, and in her high-pitched wavery voice she said "Oh my, are you tall! I bet you play basketball, don't you?"

While sitting on a bus in the twin cities, some random guy came up to me and said, "Did you ever play volleyball for the Minnesota Gophers?".

Note to everyone - Not all tall people play sports or have played sports!!! I wouldn't go up to a short person and say, "Oh my! You are practically a midget! When you were a kid, were you able to fit in a bread box? When you were a baby, did your parents use a shoebox for your crib and poke holes in the top so you could get air to breathe?"

I'm so sick of being asked this question. I have to say "No, I didn't play sports". Which always provokes either a look of disgust or disappointment in the person who asked that dumb question in the first place. Sorry to let you down, people. Not everyone fits into a perfect little stereotype. Not all tall people love sports, not all short people use a phonebook to be able to reach the floor, not all italians love pizza, and not all greeks are big and fat.

I want to crawl into a breadbox now.