Ladies Retreat

When you pack for ladies retreat take a few things that are important. 

Like every color of nail polish you own.

While you are at ladies retreat, do a little shopping.  Like for some new glitter in some colors you really need.

Apply polish to your PW's toenails.  Let her pick the colors she wants.

Then glitter liberally.

Clearcoat and Ta DA!!   The most awesome my toenails have ever been. With thanks to 'my girl'.

Oh, and I did have a few spiritual moments as well.

Addendum:  "My girl" says that is not all of her nail polish.

I Blame Eve Too

Remember all the books I am going to write?  Well here is one I don't have to.  Because someone beat me to it.  And I am not even a little bit jealous.  (Okay, maybe a little bit.)  But really if you are waiting for me to write a book, you might want to go ahead and read this one.  I Blame Eve by Susanna Foth Aughtmon.  I have read and recommended her previous 2 books.  (All I Need Is Jesus and a Good Pair of Jeans,  and  My Bangs Look Good and Other Lies I Tell Myself.)   So I feel like I know her.  We've dealt with Grace and Truth together.  And this month, along with our sister Eve of Genesis fame, we tackled my perfectionism, my control issues, and my tendency to entertain snakes. 

Here are some random things I like about the book author:
1.  Her honesty
2.  Her sense of humor
3.  Her list of 40 yucky things she blames Eve for--from arm flab to death
   (I liked it so much I was thinking of listing 100 yucky things in the month of May.  Kind of like an anti-thanksgiving list. I haven't completely ruled it out.)
4.  Her description of the Eden gene
5.  She writes short chapters
6.  She writes about real life.
7.  She challenges me without heaping guilt on me.

I liked the book, but I really like the author.  I think she could be my sister.  Or at least my friend.  So I am going to let her have this one. (Even though I still have some good snake stories.) In addition to crossing another book off my reasonable resolution list, I am crossing off  'write a book about Eve'.

I am hanging onto my dream of actually writing a book. 

The Other Side of the Mountain

The Goob is finishing up his required driving hours in order to get his license later this month.  So this week when he was on Spring break and gas is finally at $4.00 a gallon, he has been driving for no other reason than to drive.  Twice he has gone over the mountain for dinner.  And to see what he could see.  Two hours one way.  Back late?  After dark hours.  I rode with him once.  (That makes a total of two times in twelve months that I have ridden in the vehicle when he has been behind the wheel.  I may have a trust issue.) 

This GPS shot has more to do with the mayhem that results from not updating the GPS after road construction, than with the Goob's driving skills.  (Although anytime I go over the mountain I am keenly aware of the possibility of driving into the abyss.)

At any rate, the Goob will be sixteen this month and you know what that means.  He will be doing his own laundry. (Deep breath while I deal with trusting him with the washing machine.)

You Misjudge Me

Got My New Shoes On

When I was in Chicago a few weeks ago I ran into the mall and tried on some new running shoes.  I was contemplating the trendy barefoot kind of running shoes, but the helpful young man at the running shoe store talked me out of them.  And into something better for my plantar faciitis plagued feet.  But they didn't have my size in the color I wanted.  (Which really wasn't the color I wanted, but the more acceptable color they came in--just sayin')  So the very helpful young man said they could ship them right to my front door.  Free of charge.  In 3 to 5 days.  And since he was telling me this on Tuesday, I fully expected to arrive home on Friday and put my new shoes on.
 Enter UPS.  Remember them?  The logistics people?

They picked up my shoes in Roanoke VA and arrived and departed them 6 times enroute to my front porch.  Because they love logistics.  I consider my new shoes cross country running shoes because they have already come across the country.
Albeit in a box.

Inside a box.

But I don't think they could be any better.  They even came wrapped in paper that said "Run Happy".

The only one more excited than me about my new shoes is the SLD.

Her tail wags so hard at the sight of them on my feet, that she actually launches herself. 

We got as far as the end of the street before it started raining on us and we ran back home.  The good thing about the SLD is that she will be equally excited the next time she sees me wearing the running shoes. 
If only my enthusiasm was as unflagging.  Run Happy!

Indeed

Dust Yourself Off

According to the book I am currently reading:

Over the course of a year, a five-person family will accumulate 40 pounds of dust, according to one estimate.

I'm not recommending this as good reading, just a comment to bring closure to my Lenten fast from dusting.  (And wondering who makes these kind of estimates.)
I have one more post from my mission trip to Mexico rambling about in my head.  I have been hesitant to share it with you.  Because you might think less of me after you know this.  Because, truthfully, I think less of myself now that I know this about myself.
Remember that my mantra before I left on the trip was "I live to serve."  I've actually used this for years.  I was fond of using it when my kids were in grade school and would call from the school office to have me deliver something they forgot:  a homework assignment, a lunch, a clarinet.  A little reminder to myself that if I really lived to serve that I wouldn't feel so put out to actually be called to serve.  I'd like to think that I had gotten better at serving as I got older matured.

But here is what I discovered in Mexico.  ( Unfortunately, no, not a lost city of gold.)  Even as I endeavor to live to serve, the fact is that I do not like to serve.  Unless I get to pick when I serve.  And how I serve.  And whom I serve.  I am happy to plant or paint things.  I am less happy to water things with a holey bucket or to wash out the paint brushes.  And I am really not happy when you get to plant and I have to water.  Or you get to paint and I have to wash out the brushes.  And I am downright put out if you expect me to water your plants or wash out your brushes.  Because I don't mind serving, but I strongly dislike (okay, I hate) being treated like a servant. 
So on this Good Friday, here is what the hand of God has reached out and written on my dusty heart:

"For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
(Mark 10:45)

and another reminder that my attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus

⁶ Who, being in very nature God,
did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;
⁷ rather, he made himself nothing
by taking the very nature of a servant,
being made in human likeness.
⁸ And being found in appearance as a man,
he humbled himself   
by becoming obedient to death—
even death on a cross!
 (Philippians 2:6-8)

If I haven't grasped the fullness of this whole 'very nature of a servant' concept by Easter Sunday, do you think I can put off dusting until I get it right?