I Confess! I Confess!

You know how there are just some things you don't want other people to know about you? Well, it's time for me to come clean about something.

I absolutely LOVE the show Cops.

I try to be selective about what I watch on TV. There is a lot of junk on the airwaves and I don't want to spend my time staring at an electric box full o' sin. But even with all my stong held convictions, I can't seem to get past my love of this show.

I try to tell myself that it isn't as bad as watching, say, Desperate Housewives or Dirty, Sexy Money (when you have to introduce new cast so the characters have more people to cheat with you know you are officially watching trash...). I try to tell myself that it is a modern day parable of "good overcoming evil". I try to tell myself that I watch so as to affirm my decision not to go into law enforcement (although being a stay at home mom feels eerily similar some days). I try to tell myself that I watch so as to catch a glimpse of my dear friend Ang on the Norwood episode.

I can't tell if I am lying to myself or not.

All I know is that on a Saturday evening after a nice family dinner, I love to sit in the recliner ala Archie Bunker and turn on the TV to hear that catchy theme song (admit it, you are humming it right now, aren't you?) and watch a drug bust or two. On tonight's show, the cop pulled over a man in a pick up truck driving erratically, and when the driver got out of the vehicle, the officer asked if the driver had been smoking any pot that night. Of course, the driver denied it vehemently, but he was given away by his dilated pupils and the reefer tucked behind his ear. Now that's a reality show.

So now it is out there. I love the show Cops. I am not sure how you want to deal with that information. Maybe it will help to ponder this deep question of our generation:

Bad boys, bad boys whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Random Friday Thoughts

It's Friday so I feel no prerogative to have one big, life changing point to this post. I love the freedom the weekends bring me!

Random Thought #1. There is a "culture" for everyone.
The other night I couldn't sleep so I turned on the TV. As I was flipping channels, I stumbled across the most interesting ("interesting" meaning "so weird I couldn't look away") documentary about people who own ferrets. Apparently there is a whole underground ferret community that I didn't even know existed. It is an intense experience, owning a ferret. It was even intense watching people own ferrets.

Now don't get me wrong, I love pets. Anyone who knows me knows I am over the moon, crazy in love with our dog Marshall (aka Moo, Moo-man, Moo Moo Marooney, and Chicken Lick Oklahoma). I get up early to walk him each morning...or I kick Mark out of bed so he will walk him, I constantly check his food/water dishes, get him groomed regularly, play rope, and snuggle him every day. I LOVE this dog. Our lifestyle has changed some because of having Marshall. I can't imagine our family without him.

But I am not "ferret" crazy. In the documentary, these people's entire lives revolve around their ferrets. They forsake family and all life happening just outside the walls of their ferret rooms. And apparently there are ferret competitions! I learned that the biggest competition is the Buckeye Bash in Ohio each year. Some serious cut throat competition at the Buckeye Bash! And who knew that there are ways to "judge" a ferret!?! But there are (width of the ears, muscle structure, clean ears and nails, nice teeth...), and people go to a lot of trouble to get their ferret "Buckeye Bash" ready. It was fascinating in a purely sociological way to watch this whole culture interact. It is like nothing else I have ever seen before. There really is a community for everyone.

Random Thought #2. Cal calls 'em like he sees 'em.
So the other day, Cal was protesting nap time. He would sit up in bed and let me know exactly what he thought of the whole concept of "lay still" time. Finally, I had had enough. In my firmest voice, I told Cal in no uncertain terms that he was to lay down, stop talking, and try to sleep. Realizing he had reached the end of the line, he huffed and rolled over, pulled the covers up, and then muttered this at me:

"Gross person."

Argh.

Random Thought #3. Good one, John McCain.
Without getting too into politics (because this blog isn't about politics), I am intrigued and excited about his choice for a VP. Now I am not a feminist by any means (after nursing two kids, the last thing I would ever do is burn my bra...), but I like what I see and hear so far about Gov. Sarah Palin.

Random Thought #4. I am reading an interesting book.
I did something that goes against most every fiber of my being the other day. I took a suggestion from Randy Bohlender. Now, I like Randy Bohlender except that he is my lifelong arch nemesis. I can't remember exactly why, but he is a formidable opponent. (But he reads my blog, and that makes me happy! Shout out to Bohlender!)

I checked a book out of the library that Randy B. recommended - "Epicenter" by Joel Rosenberg. It is an interesting look at what is happening in the Middle East and how it relates to biblical prophecy. Being raised a Swedish Lutheran, I am not big into "end times" ("end times" for Swedish Lutherans is when the Swedish meatballs and banana bread run out at the tureen dinner), but I have been doing a study of the book of Ruth and learning about redemption. (As an aside, everything in the Bible points to God's plan of salvation! How cool is that?) In our Bible study we have gotten on the topic of Israel, etc. etc. and this book was mentioned again. So between Bohlender and my Bible study teacher Lori (who is not an arch nemesis by the way), I had to check it out.

Totally fascinating. I am not too far into it, but boy, it makes you think. Fascinating stuff.

Random Thought #5. I miss some old friends.
Lately I have been missing some long lost friends. I blame it all on a card I got in the mail from my cousin Kate. She and I spent most every day of the summer together when she would come visit her gram (my Aunt Elsie). So many adventures - too many to share here! And I got really, really nostalgic for some of our "crew" back in those summers.

We were known as Matt, Matt, Ann, and Kate (we were cute, we weren't terribly clever) and the four of us spent one summer together most every day. There was no romance or anything, we all just got along great and laughed ourselves silly. We would go to the drive in movies (on one occasion Matt and Matt left us on the side of the road on the way to the drive in...they did come back for us, but I think Kate and I each had a brief moment of panic), play board games, go to concerts, eat at Friendly's (Matt H. once ate a whole half gallon of ice cream in one sitting), play putt putt, and just generally hang out. We were all good kids, so there was no alcohol or trespassing involved (well, except for the "Dump Road" sign thing...).

My favorite memory is from a picnic Matt and Matt prepared for Kate and I. I think we had cooked them dinner at Aunt Elsie's one night, and to repay us Matt and Matt invited us to go on a picnic with them. I confess it here and now - Kate and I didn't have much faith, so we ate some sandwiches before we left. Imagine our surprise when the guys had a picnic table loaded in the back of the Burlingame-mobile and some amazing food! We drove up into the field behind the junkyard, parked the truck, turned on the Elvis music, and sat at the picnic table in the bed of the truck eating fried chicken. My favorite part of that whole night was that when we finished a piece of fried chicken, we would just toss the bones over our heads into the field and grab a new piece. We stayed there for hours laughing and talking and jumping onto hay rolls (or trying to anyway), and when we finally went to leave to get Matt H. home in time for curfew, the truck wouldn't start because we had drained the battery playing Elvis songs all night! So we hoofed it back home on foot, Matt H. got grounded, and Kate and I were labeled "trouble" by his parents. I think that was the beginning of the end of Matt, Matt, Ann and Kate.

Over the years, Kate and I lost contact with Matt and Matt. I know one Matt is married to a great girl named Julie, and the other Matt is probably married because he had a refurbished 1969 white Mustang with pink furry dice. And while my life is so perfect and full just as it is, I have had moments where I am sad that the Fab Four lost touch. It is so nice to have those kind of memories. As long as I live, I will never forget that picnic, the fun of that summer, or how it felt to be so carefree (even though at the time I though my life was a teenage tragedy...).

I am not sure why I took you all on that trip down memory lane, but if you read all that, I commend you! Suffice it to say, I miss you Kate! You and your family fly over here sometime soon, OK? Because you know how funny getting the "Dump Road" sign was...

Enough randomness for now. Happy weekend dear friends!

It Is Finished.

The 2008 fantasy football draft that is. (No sacrilege intended.)

This was a tough year for me draft-wise. I usually surround myself with multiple fantasy football magazines and scour the internet for statistics and information prior to draft day, but somehow this year the time got away from me. As I headed to the draft party I was a nervous wreck realizing I would have to rely on the bits and pieces I had heard on Sportscenter and my football instincts.

Of course, I have a few hard and fast rules I draft by that don't change...ever. For instance, there is the "I never draft a quarterback who leaves his pregnant girlfriend to be with a swimsuit model" rule. Thus, no Tom Brady on my team. Ever. I try to enforce the "no punks allowed" rule, but sometimes it can be hard determining the punks. I try to avoid DUI offenders at all costs, but not having access to all arrest records handy, I always worry I might let one slip by. I do have the "If you look like you are having fun and you aren't an obvious punk I'll draft you" rule. Drafting Hines Ward is an annual event for me. (Except for last year when Mark drafted him. It was a long, cold football season for him. Lesson learned.) And after the year of the T.O. debacle, there is no T.O. Period. I would have won the title that year if he hadn't gotten suspended. It still hurts to look at him.


This year there was the minor "Derek Anderson" incident - right after I drafted him I was informed that he got a concussion in a pre-season game. Slightly panicked, I quickly scooped up Matt Schaub just in case. (Do NOT tell me he is out. I can't handle the stress of being quarterback-less.) It was a decent recovery. I also got some good tips from Rob C. which may be bad news as he is the first to admit that the alphabetical rankings during pre-season is as high as he ever gets in the standings. But a girl unprepared has to do what a girl unprepared has to do. We will see how it pans out.

So without further ado, here is my 2008 fantasy football team!

QB: Derek Anderson
Matt Schaub
RB: Joseph Addai
Maurice Jones-Drew
Ronnie Brown
WR: TJ Houshmon...well, I just call him "Houshi" :)
Hines Ward
Nate Burleson
TE: Vernon Davis
DST: Bears
Seahawks
K: Can't remember, and like it matters...

I feel pretty good about it. I would feel better if John Wieland (fantasy football guru) said it was a good team.

Here's to 2008!

Did I Hear (I Mean See) That Right?

My oldest sister (let's call her Smead) has five children. Five. Yep. Five. They range in age from 12 to 4, and each child is delightful and spunky in their own unique way.



I have learned a lot standing on the sidelines watching my sister raise her herd. I have learned how to prioritize (with five children, each child can only do one extra-curricular activity and no one has ever died from doing only one activity), how to keep perspective (try calling someone with five children to complain that grocery shopping with two is just too hard), and most of all I have learned what it means to be your child's advocate.



One of Smead's daughters, Hope-Lan, is legally blind. What Hopie lacks in vision, she completely makes up for in spunk. As they say in Smead's house, bold and blind is a dangerous combination. It is hard to know that Hopie is visually impaired as she zips past on her scooter or bike. You know that song, "Anything you can do, I can do better?" It's Hopie's theme song.



While Hopie lives life big-time, Smead stands in the background taking on the challenges of advocating for Hopie in the school and in the community. It isn't always easy. Don't get me wrong - Smead does not expect the world to make life all smooth sailing for Hopie. Smead's a firm believer that everyone is dealt cards in life - some have "better" hands than others, but you do the best you can with what you get. Life isn't meant to be fair, but it also isn't meant to be bad or boring. So Smead advocates for what Hopie needs for safety and success, and then stands back to watch, covering her eyes and peeking through her fingers as Hopie takes on the world.


Recently Smead approached her township about putting up a "Blind Child Area" sign at the end of their street. You would think something like that would only take a brief phone call, but alas, not always the truth. After listening to the argument that no sign was needed because drivers should be courteous of all children playing, Smead sweetly (but firmly) pointed out that most all children can run away from an oncoming car because they see it coming. You would think it ended there, but it took several phone calls and several weeks to finally, FINALLY get the township to put up the street sign.



So much effort and work for something so little.



Imagine Smead's surprise when the new sign appeared.




Yeah. Hopie can hear the cars. She just can't see them.



An advocate's job is never done.

Five Signs Your Family Is TOO Into the Olympics

5. Dinner is made, consumed, cleaned up, and digested by 7 central time so as not to miss a moment of NBC coverage.

4. You find yourself googling "German weightlifting gold medalist video" to help get the monthly PMS cry unstuck.

3. The four-year-old throws himself on the floor and cries, "I want my team to win!" when he realizes Brazil is beating the US men's indoor volleyball team. (OK, that may partly be due to lack of sleep, but still...)

2. The six-and-a-half-year-old explains the scrape on his knee by saying, "I didn't stick the landing in gym class."

1. Instead of playing Superman or Spiderman, the newest superhero the kids argue over being is Michael Phelps. (Anyone know where I can get a superhero costume that isn't a Speedo?)

Freaky Foreshadowing

So in his Sunday School class last week, Cal's lesson was about growing up with God. Their activity was to make a picture of how they think they will look when they are grown up.

Apparently Cal believes he will one day grow up to be a perfect combination of three people - a smurf, our worship leader from Cincy, and the "mustache man".

See what you think.



adds up to...







Freaky, isn't it?

Seriously...

...that is one ugly bird.

Beijing and Cha-ching!

Hi, my name is Ann and I am an Olympic addict. (Hi, Ann.)

I admit it. I love the Olympics. As in crazy-love the Olympics. I tend towards patriotic anyway, and when you mix sport, culture, and patriotism all together you get my entertainment trifecta. We have loved every minute so far.

To celebrate the Opening Ceremonies I hosted a little "Olympic Party". Cal helped shop and prepare food (by default), and we had a great time with our friends. I am especially proud of the Olympic ring cheese ball, which I think will now become a tradition every two years.

Also, mama has a new ride. We call it the "Nav", but every so often I slip up and refer to it as the "pimp-mobile". It is a Lincoln Navigator, and while we bought it used, it has breathed new life into the carpooling monotony. The minivan served its purpose well, but the time had come for a new vehicle era. Plus, anything with gas mileage like this is really cheap these days. I love it. We had initially looked at a black Nav (which is "van" spelled backwards - almost prophetic, isn't it???), but it seemed a little too...drug dealer. I am thrilled with my red Nav!

My Heart Doesn't Understand

I haven't blogged much this week because something has been brewing in my heart, and there just didn't seem to be words to fit what I was wrestling ("grappling" as Peter Macky would say!) with. I've felt sad, confused, even at times angry and I wanted an answer. A real answer. From God. One that made perfect sense and explained the situations I was seeing around me. And then, I thought, I could blog about all the emotions I was feeling and how in the end, it all made sense.

That still hasn't happened.

In the past few weeks, some tragedies have weighed down my heart. I am not sure why these particular events seemed to trigger a slight faith crisis, because I am not intimately involved in any of the situations. But I am seeing bad things happen to good people. I see people left behind, totally broken in heart and in spirit. Seeing others' faith shaken has caused mine to quiver too. I know it is the great question of humanity, but I found myself asking God why such awful things happen to people - at times even His people.

Now, I know the Sunday School answer. Romans 8:28 - All things work for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purposes. It isn't that I doubt the Word of God, but sometimes I struggle with the day to day application, especially with the circumstances I see around me. I know, and believe, that God can use any situation for good, but that seems to be of little comfort to broken hearts. It wasn't even cutting it for me lately.

You know, you have to hand it to unbelievers in some respects. The ways of God are sometimes...unbelievable. And when we as Christ followers offer up some pat answer to suffering and tie it up with a big red bow of Scripture quoting, I would think it makes God even less credible. I mean, if some human has all the hard answers, who really does need God? I especially cringe at the "prosperity gospel" folks. They walk around, living in a bubble believing they are free from suffering because they really, really believe in Jesus. Don't misunderstand me - I know and praise God for all His benefits - but I think people are crack smoking to think the Bible says those who face terrible struggles just didn't believe enough.

I almost feel embarrassed to admit it, but I simply do not get it. I wish I was wise enough to be able to explain suffering. But I can't. I don't get why Katie Reider died, I don't get why Ryan has had to endure treatments for brain cancer, and I don't understand why dear friends of mine who love God and each other struggle to have children.

Maybe what I really wrestle with is not that God doesn't do anything in these situations, but that sometimes He does. Why do some live and some die? Why do some face unbelievable difficulties and others sail through life unaffected? I think it is human nature to compare the "value" or "worthiness" of people to make this make sense, but even that equation doesn't add up.

I have spent so much time lately literally begging God to make this make sense to me. I want to see the point, the grand eternal point, of such hard things. I gotta tell you - I got nothing. Not that I feel like God didn't hear me, I just think He wasn't going to fully answer me. Maybe that is merciful on His part. Maybe it's a pride lesson on my part. I don't know.

Last night I read something that, while not a thorough answer by any means, at least gave me some peace. I was finishing a book called "A Table in the Presence" and it was written by a naval chaplain as he experienced the first days and weeks of the Iraq War serving alongside a Marine battalion. There isn't much room for b.s. at war, and spiritual b.s. surely doesn't fly while the bullets and RPGs do. This was a very honest and raw account of faith under pressure.

In the end the chaplain addressed the question of why some guys lived through firefights and battles, and other good men didn't. The answer was that he just didn't know. That alone didn't bring me much comfort, but the next point he made did. He pointed out that Daniel from the Old Testament and Stephen from the New Testament both loved God and served Him faithfully under difficult circumstances. Daniel's faithfulness landed him in a den of hungry lions. Stephen's faithfulness landed him in the dirt to be stoned. God sent an angel to close the mouth of the lions and spare Daniel, but Stephen was stoned to death. Just knowing that some good people survive and some don't - and knowing it has been God's way since Bible times - brings me comfort. While I don't understand what made God protect Daniel and take Stephen home, at least I know God has been consistent in His...well, "inconsistency" as my human eyes see it.

The other thing that God has laid on my heart is to allow room for sorrow. I have been uncomfortably sad this week. Almost physically uncomfortable at times. I think part of the reason I kept coming to God for an answer is so I could relieve my heavy heart. It hurts to see others hurt. But as I look back, I have been a lot more faithful to pray for these people because of the grief I can't seem to shake.

Maybe someone further along in their spiritual journey can understand this. But I have yet to meet anyone wise enough to make it all make sense.

In the meantime, can you join me in praying for the Reider family, for sweet Ryan, and for my friends who desire a child?

Another Cool Running Shirt Slogan

"Does this shirt make my butt look fast?"

Yeah, you know I'm gonna buy it.

Whoa. For a Minute There...

...I was the man in our relationship.

Mark and I have both been busy lately (he with work and me with school starting, etc) and we haven't had much time at all to really sit down and talk to each other. We weren't angry with each other...we were just relationally absent for a few days. Neither one of us likes that feeling.

So tonight after the boys were in bed, we sat in the sun room with the TV off and really, really talked. We talked about how we each were doing, how we were feeling, what we were struggling with, what we observed about each other lately, and several other relationally healthy topics.

After about an hour, there was a nice, quiet moment. I asked Mark if he wanted to play a card game we have gotten into lately.

He looked lovingly at me, and said sweetly, "No honey. I would just really rather sit here together and talk some more."

Slightly disappointed (and without thinking might I add), I replied, "When you are done talking about rainbows and unicorns, do you think you will want to play a game?"

Apparently I had met my relational quota for the day.