Must hold tongue. Instead, lets talk about food.

I just returned from a work related trip, and oh, how I wish I could dish some really humorous things that happened. Things that literally made me laugh so hard that I cried, and some that just left me with my mouth hanging wide open with disbelief. This is another moment when I wish this blog were anonymous.  Because then you could laugh really hard too.  And I know you would.

Anyway, instead of all reading some real entertainment, you will get a lovely post on what I ate, because woah.

Day 1:

I have to also add that my coworker and I splurged on some Kilwin’s ice cream after dinner while we looked at some sweet little boutiques.  I couldn’t find the calorie count on that, but I’m sure it was at least 600.  I normally try to stay close to 1200 when I’m not exercising hard, and 1400 when I am.  As you can see, my calories for this day surpassed my range, and then some.  That’s what happens when you assume that an eggplant sandwich is healthy, just because it contains grilled eggplant.

Here’s day two:

The salad dressing (it was a company lunch, and I had no choice other than dry, and dry salad is gross even for me) was terrible.  It tasted good, but so not worth having an extra roll on my belly.

Last night Jason had pizza and wine waiting on me when I arrived home at around 9 pm. Love him. It felt so good to come home.

However, my two days of eating lots of junk made me feel sluggish and icky, so it’s been great today to get back to normal. Time to burn some fat!

The weekend in pictures

 

I made pumpkin pie (with real pumpkins)

Topped with whipped cream, also homemade

Watched the Gators totally crush the Georgia Bulldogs. (That's my game face, and yes, my lips are chapped from having the flu last week. This is also a terribly unflattering shot of us, but, eh.)

Made a Jacko. (Clearly Hogan loved getting right up in the action)

Jack

And passed out candy. This is the only time you'll see candy in our house...

First steps

Last night we went to an informational session on foster parenting/adopting from the state.  It looks like we’ll start our ten weeks of training in April and finish up in June.  We are excited to have finally started on this journey.

There are an earlier set of classes that we could take starting in January, but starting in April will allow Jason to see through the commitment that he made to the basketball team and give us time to pray about this together. It will also allow us several more months to mentor our neighbor, who we’re growing a pretty great relationship with.

I’m learning patience in my desires, and experiencing God’s tenderness with my heart through all of it.  His compassion frequently leaves me with out words.

Each time I honestly pour the contents of my discontented heart out to him, wondering if my ungratefulness has finally caused him to reach his capacity of love for me, he shows up.  He reminds me there is no capacity for his love for me.  That he knew and loved me before I was born– before I loved him, and even when I denied him. That I’m so valuable to him, and that he still has a purpose for me…for us. He reminds me that it’s all about him.

It truly is.

No pain no gain?

As part of Operation Stay at Home Wife, I thought that I would save some dollars and get my hair color done on the cheap this time around.  You know, show my hubby that I can make sacrifices. It’s not like I bleach it blond, and I figured it’s pretty hard to mess up dark brown.

My friend recently had her hair colored at Fantastic Sam’s, and it turned out great.  It also only cost her 35 dollars. So I went ahead and scheduled an appointment for color only.  Then I scheduled an appointment at a different place for the cut, because, well, I just didn’t trust Fantastic Sam’s that much.

As I sat down in the chair for my appointment, I quickly realized that this was going to be a long hour.  The man coloring my hair immediately started talking to me about Jesus.

Don’t get me wrong.  I love Jesus too. A lot. I just didn’t really want to hear a mini-sermon/lecture about the importance of listening to the holy spirit while my hair color was being applied from some guy that I don’t even know.  Next, he asked me about my job, which is in the advertising industry. Sometimes I really hate telling  people which industry I work in, because they automatically assume that I’m a marketing genius (I am not) and inevitably will try to convince me to do sales or marketing for their side business.  This time was no different.  This man was convinced that God sent me to his seat for a reason, possibly so that I can market his son’s band, and of course, they are about to make it big.  He proceeded to ask me, interview style, about my previous work experience, and whether I’ll be able to travel.  I’m not even kidding.

Finally, as I tried to graciously tell him that I’m actually not interested in leaving my current position at this time, he finishes applying the color and puts a cap on my head to activate the color.  Approximately one minute later, my entire scalp started to BURN.  I’ve been having my hair colored since my senior year in high school, and my scalp has never burned like this. A slight tingle?  Sure. But never like this.  I successfully ignored the pain for about 30 minutes, but when it started feeling like the elastic from my cap was burning into my forehead, I just had to say something.

He came over and told me that I had about 10 minutes left, and he removed the cap to let some air in and hopefully cool my hot scalp down.

Then he started picking through my hair it with this:

Ever tried to pick through incredibly thick, wet-with-dye-in-it, long hair with a cheap plastic brush like the one above? I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy. I felt like I was being tortured.

I was holding back tears as he finally lead me to rinse the initial source of my pain out.  I silently thanked God that this would all be over soon.

So he, who does not have small hands, began rinsing my hair and running his fingers through it, from root to end.  You do not, under any circumstances, run.your.fingers.through.thick.wet.hair, unless there is conditioner in it.  He also kept spraying me in the face with water.

I do not typically have a sensitive scalp.  But with the burning, and the picking, and the finger running, I just couldn’t take it any more.  ”You’re really hurting me,” I managed to choke out.

“What?” he asked, clearly confused.

“When you run your fingers through my hair, it really hurts,” I repeated.

The rest of the appointment was awkward.  He finished rinsing, and then submitted my scalp to even more torture by raking through my hair with that same horrible brush, as I again choked back tears.

I told him that I didn’t need for him to dry it, and then he asked if I would like for him to cut it.  I felt like asking him if he was crazy, but instead politely told him no.

As we came to payment time, he charged me 65 dollars for my hour of torture, which is a far cry from the 35 dollars that they charged my friend. When I got in the car, I definitely had red burn marks, and also dark brown dye STAINED AROUND MY HAIRLINE. How embarrassing.

I went home and shed a few tears on my husbands shoulder, naturally, after enduring the most painful hair experience of my life.  He gave me a big hug, and said that he felt like punching that man who hurt my scalp and lectured me about the Holy Spirit (awe- gotta love a man who wants to physically hurt someone just because they made me cry), and told me that he appreciated me trying to save money, but clearly it didn’t work I don’t need to do that in this particular area.

All in all, the day ended well.  The hair color came out fine, and later that afternoon I went and got my hair cut from someone that I trusted.  I did go with the Reese bangs, and they came out terrific.

I ended up spending 95 dollars with the cut plus color, which is 30 dollars more than I would have spent if I hadn’t tried to be cheap.

Lesson learned.

My Own Series of Interesting Events

Can we talk about last Thursday please?  Great, thanks.  Just two days after I sympathetically commented on this post, the following events happened to me:

My coworker and I needed to switch vehicles for the evening for work related reasons. Unfortunately, since this blog is not anonymous, I will not be able to discuss at the GREAT length that I desire, why we had to switch cars.  Moving on.

On Thursday nights, I host a women’s Bible study at my house, and on this particular Thursday it was extra special since we were also celebrating the birthday of one of my sweetest friends.  I get out of work at 5:30 and the study typically starts at 6:30.

So after a pretty crazy work day, I leave work in my coworkers very nice car and realize that because we switched key chains, instead of just keys, I had no way to let myself into my home. After calling my coworker and letting her know that I was pretty sure that I had her house key too (I did), I frantically dialed up Jason to ask if I could come to his basketball practice to get a key.

In route to get the key, I decided that in order for me to successfully put the events of the day behind me, I should crank up the music and sing. Unfortunately, I got so music-happy that I forgot to stop to get the key. Gah. I was less than a minute from home, so you can understand that I was less than excited about this. So I tuuuurned around, and as I turned, the gas light came on.

I guess this is a good time to mention that I also gave my coworker (we’re also friends) my debit card, since I knew that my car was running a bit low on gas.

Someone elses car+No Keys+No Gas+No means of paying for gas+friends arriving at my house in less than 30 minutes=a little bit of stress.

When I finally arrived to meet Jason for the key, and mentioned that I also kind of-sort of needed his debit card, I was near tears. Thankfully he laughed, which made things feel a bit more comical and a bit less irritating.

When I arrived to get gas, I pulled up to the wrong side of the pump.

As I got into the car, I realized that with all of the drama during the day, I forgot a card for the gift that I got my friend.  So I swung into the grocery, and all was well until I arrived at the register to discover that I left my husband’s debit card in the car.

At this point the sweet bag boy asked how I was doing, and I proceeded to tell him that I thought my head might actually pop off at any moment.  Thankfully, I see the grocery store people several times per week, so hopefully he didn’t think I was too crazy.

Seriously. Not that any of these events are horrible or anything, but really?  All in the matter of an hour?

The whole thing was quickly forgotten two minutes (phew!) after I arrived home, and I spent some fun time with great company.

Bangs?

Am I the only person who has ever gone for MONTHS without a trim?  It’s not pretty, but with all of the home improvement projects lately, I’ve figured that since my hair has interior paint streaked in it half the time, who cares, right?  I can’t take it anymore though and the time has come for the hair cut to be cut and colored.

The last time I had it cut, I opted for the trendy bangs, and it was cute.  But now the bangs are grown out, and the question becomes whether to cut em in again?  Or is this style on it’s way out?

I ‘m really fond of this look on Reese:

However. I’m trying a new stylist this time, and that ’s a lot of power to give to her. I don’t want to look like this at the end of my session:

Or this:

What would you do?

Used

On my way home from work on Thursday, I was thinking of my cousin who passed away around this time about four years ago.  I loved him dearly, and his death was heartbreaking.

To call his childhood experience “bad” doesn’t even start to describe the type of evil that he was subjected to as a child.  I believe that it was an escape from those memories that he was seeking when he found drugs.

I was driving home from work and missing him, so I started praying for God to use me.  I told him that I wanted to be his hands and feet, and pleaded with him to somehow give me an opportunity to help children who are suffering the results of abuse.

Not ten minutes later, as I arrived home and was getting ready to spend some time with friends, my prayer was answered.

Remember this child?  Well we’ve become pretty close, and his foster mom called me and said that he had had a really terrible week, and wondered if I could spend some time with him to take his mind away from things for a while.

So I did. We walked my dogs together for a good 40 minutes and then played basketball for probably another hour.

I’m amazed at how quickly God responds sometimes.

Also, because I ADD very quickly, I bought these shoes over the weekend to replace one of the pairs that Hogan ruined:

I love them.  So Hogan better keep his slobbery little puppy mouth to himself.  Or at least chew on Jason’s shoes from now on.

Midnight Madness

I’ve been a people watcher since I was a little girl.  One of my favorite things to do is to watch people in their element.  I find it inspiring to watch people do what they love, and what they are good at. Last night, I got to see Jason in his element.

My husband is, by design, intense.  He has a strong desire to make things better, take things to the next level, or try a new approach.  He’s is also good at the details.  He’s one of those people that could just tick you off because he usually has his crap together, and he usually does things right the first time.  He’s planned, punctual, organized, orderly, and efficient. It takes a strong and secure leader to recognize these things as gifts and strengths instead of being intimidated or threatened by them.  He’s been blessed enough to have had three or four of these type of amazing leaders in his life, and now he has another.

Jason is one of the assistant coaches for a local, private college basketball team.  Last night I went to Midnight Madness, where the team split up and scrimmaged against each other as an official kick-off to the season.  Jason coached one team, and the head coach lead the other.  I watched both Jason and the head coach, and all of a sudden it was very apparent to me why he asked Jason to assist him.  They have the same energy.

The same quiet intensity in Jason that intimidates some, energizes the head coach of the basketball team.  He doesn’t see Jason’s strengths as a threat to his leadership, but he doesn’t take every idea that Jason throws out, every single time.  He is very clearly the leader of the team. He listens, respects, encourages, and inspires. As a result, Jason happily helps him out seven days every week for nothing.  On top of his paying job.

It makes me pretty happy to see my husband having so much fun, and also makes me wonder what I can do listen, respect, encourage, and inspire him more.

By the way, it’s about seventy degrees in Central Florida today. The cooler breeze paired with the warm sun, paired with me not getting enough sleep last night, because we didn’t get home until 1 AM,  made me want to play hooky from work today and go play/nap outside.  I actually still regret coming in a little bit.  Does the change (however so slight) in temperature during the fall make anyone else want to ditch work?

I didn’t even get upset.

Hogan is not typically a chewer.

He’s a sock bandit.  He’ll steal a sock, hold his head up high, and proudly parade around the house–daring me to come and get it. I will command him to come and then drag him by the sock into the kitchen, where I’ll entice him with a treat while telling him to “drop it.”  He’ll look up at me with his pretty green eyes, and as soon as he sees the treat, voila, the sock is released from his crocodile grip. Easy peasy.

However, last week he made a big statement about how he is liking, or rather disliking, Jason’s new basketball schedule.  The team practice schedule requires him to leave the house before I get home from work, causing the dogs to have to stay crated for an extra hour each day.

So instead of taking it out on the one who’s fault it actually is, he chose to take it out on me.  And by me, I mean my shoes:

Yep, they’re totally ruined.  I held on to them until Sunday because I was in denial about the fact that I can never wear them again. I won’t lie. I actually still have the gray pair. I will throw them away tonight.  They deserve to be parted with separately.

I’m kind of smiling inside though, because at least now I have a totally valid excuse to request some replacement shoe dollars from the Keeper of Budgets.  He felt pretty badly that Hogan cramped my style (times three), so I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to oblige.  Though I have a feeling this will not advance Operation Stay at Home Wife…

I wasn’t even upset with him though. I guess he’s just pretty lucky he’s cute. Or maybe I’m having a hard time adjusting to our new schedule too, and in some twisted way wished that I could on chew some shoes. I, however, would give credit where credit is due and chew Jason’s shoes.

Cry me a river

Today, I will whine.

This infertility thing?  Sometimes it’s not fun.

It hurts when day 28 rolls around, and we are disappointed again.

It’s heartbreaking to see my precious husband cry with disappointment that mirrors my own.

It’s confusing not knowing the next “right” step for us.

It’s frustrating (but understandable) that my husband is scared of adopting or fostering at this point in time.

Some days it’s infuriating to have people ask when we are having children.

Some days my emotions get the best of me and I perceive everything as a flaunt in my infertile face.

Some days I believe the lie that God is punishing me.

Some days this burden feels like more than my heart can stand.

Today is one of those days.

I know that I need to be patient.   I know that God’s will is perfect and mine is flawed. I know that most often he shows us only one step in front of us- that’s why faith is important. I know that he loves us. I know that I love him. I know that Jason and I are already a family.  I know that because we’ve waited so.long., it will be so special when it does happen for us.  I know that God is pleased that we waited for marriage. I know that we are blessed. I know that we have a great life.

Most days knowing all of these things sustains me. Most days God is enough for me, and I’m secure in his plan.  Most days I’m optimistic. Most days I am content. But once in a while, I have a day like today, when I’m all Whoa Is Me, and I just gotta let it all out. And then I feel better.