"Tall, blond, and handsome, yet he never leaves home." Suzy-Jo Martin turned from her front window (and from the bare-chested hunk mowing the lawn across the street) and took the lemonade her friend Eliza offered. "I think he's a child molester or a rapist."
"Does he have one of those home alarm bracelets on his ankle?"
"I don't get that close to look. He's a child molester."
"Or a rapist," Eliza added. Her smile wasn't the least bit amusing.
Suszy-Jo casually sipped her bittersweet lemonade. "The children and women in this cul-de-sac could be in danger. I don't think you are taking this as serious as need be." She turned back to the window. Pity, his debauched past. No man who looks so angelic should have such base vices. "I need to find out his name so I can Google him. Go meet him for me."
Eliza drew back the silk curtain and edged closer to the window. "He looks like a hero on one of those bodice-ripper romances."
Suzy-Jo sighed. Double pity, his debauched past. "Take a couple of cookies with you. For food, men will confess national secretes."
"I'm a woman and I'm pregnant." Eliza stared hard at Suzy-Jo. "If he's a rapist or molester, I'm top billing."
"You'll be fine. I'm watching."
Eliza rolled her eyes. "A rapist/child molester and a peeping-Tom. You two make quite a pair."
~*~
Hmm, I think I could write a story from that. Clearly he's not a child molester. Or a rapist. This would be a romance, after all. And I can't help but wonder why he never leaves home. Poor guy.
Ideas are the bread of a writer's life.
Ideas are everywhere.
The key is being receptive to them. Listen. Watch. Ponder.
On my way to take my middle two kids to school, I was driving through our neighborhood noticing the yards that needed mowing. In my head, I heard, "Tall, blond, and handsome, yet he never leaves home. I think he's a child molester or rapist." And then I got to thinking who would say that, where would she say it, and why would she say it?
The rest of the story?
Oh, I don't know.
What do you think could happen?
Friday, April 11, 2008
Thursday, April 10, 2008
What? Me worry?
Well, I did.
Yesterday.
Yesterday's yesterday.
And even the day before yesterday's yesterday.
I don't look forward to parent-teacher conference, but yesterday's turned out better than I anticipated. It's amazing how receptive your combatant is if you lay down your sword and say, "What can I do to make this relationship/situation better?"
Yet I don't attribute the conference victory to myself.
Much prayer went into yesterday's confrontation.
Why is it we are more often quick to attack someone who has done us wrong (the driver who cut us off, the waitress who wrote the wrong order, the airline who overbooked seats) and not quick to pray?
Today's a full day for me. I have Touched by Love judging packets to get into the mail or to e-mail. Just between us, I'm overwhelmed. But I think that's because I don't have a system yet. I need a system. My judging grid is kinda nice.
Yesterday.
Yesterday's yesterday.
And even the day before yesterday's yesterday.
I don't look forward to parent-teacher conference, but yesterday's turned out better than I anticipated. It's amazing how receptive your combatant is if you lay down your sword and say, "What can I do to make this relationship/situation better?"
Yet I don't attribute the conference victory to myself.
Much prayer went into yesterday's confrontation.
Why is it we are more often quick to attack someone who has done us wrong (the driver who cut us off, the waitress who wrote the wrong order, the airline who overbooked seats) and not quick to pray?
Today's a full day for me. I have Touched by Love judging packets to get into the mail or to e-mail. Just between us, I'm overwhelmed. But I think that's because I don't have a system yet. I need a system. My judging grid is kinda nice.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
The dreaded conference
Yes it's that time.
Time to begin thinking about what to wear, what to say, what to eat so you don't puke.
*sigh*
I have a parent-student-teacher conference today.
To say I'm excited is a gross exaggeration. Gross as in huge, not gross as in gross. I may not be great at spelling, but I'm not to shabby with vocabulary.
What do you say to a teacher who clearly dislikes your child?
I think I'm going to begin with "I apologize that the situation has deteriorated to this. What can I do to repair it? What can my son and I do to help you?"
But that's not what my flesh wants me to say. And for the sake of not giving the deacons any reason to consider excommunication proceedings, I'll keep my thoughts to myself where I harm no one but myself.
Think kind thoughts for me around 3:00pm today.
Time to begin thinking about what to wear, what to say, what to eat so you don't puke.
*sigh*
I have a parent-student-teacher conference today.
To say I'm excited is a gross exaggeration. Gross as in huge, not gross as in gross. I may not be great at spelling, but I'm not to shabby with vocabulary.
What do you say to a teacher who clearly dislikes your child?
I think I'm going to begin with "I apologize that the situation has deteriorated to this. What can I do to repair it? What can my son and I do to help you?"
But that's not what my flesh wants me to say. And for the sake of not giving the deacons any reason to consider excommunication proceedings, I'll keep my thoughts to myself where I harm no one but myself.
Think kind thoughts for me around 3:00pm today.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Driving Miss Gina
I don't like driving.
Never have.
And I know why. I don't want the responsibility of driving. Instead, I'd rather take a nap, read a book, take a nap, look at the scenery, take a nap, listen to the radio, or take a nap. Are you hearing me? I'm a slumberer.
So when I had to drive home yesterday from Reagan National Airport, I wasn't an overly happy camper. See note about slumberer.
Call me crazy, but sleeping and driving don't mix well.
My instructions were follow the road out of the airport (the one that says TO WASHINGTON) and stick to the one that runs along the Potomac. Eventually it'll take me to I395 which will take me to I95. Well, I did, but then I realized I was going north and I didn't want to go north. So I figured I'd get off 395North and loopy around until I was going south.
Contrary to popular knowledge, Washington DC is not loopy.
At least the roads aren't.
So after a nice sight-see of the White House, the National Mall, some lovely cherry blossoms, and the Washington Monument, I realized the solution to my crisis.
Pray.
Pray hard and fast, and it went something like this:
"God, I'm lost. Literally. And since I don't want to panic like some insipid girl, I'd really appreciate some guidence because...well, You are all I've got. I don't know who to ask for directions and odds are, that person wouldn't speak English anyway, which rather vexes me becuase if you live in my country, you better learn my language because I don't have the time or motivation to learn yours. I'd rather watch Smallville. So, Lord, impress upon me where to go. Hey, there's a tunnel, I went through a tunnel somewhere. No, that's a bridge. My bad. And I'd really appreciate a I395 road sign. Should I turn here? I think I will."
For literary purposes, that prayer may have been embellished.
Okay it was.
What I really prayed was "God, I'm lost, You're all I've got, give me a 395 sign."
And He did.
Soon I was back on I395 going south. But then I kinda sorta took the exit ramp and got offer near the Sprinfield Mall. Not being someone who panics because panicking would make me an insipid girl, I calmly prayed, "God, I could really use one of those big signs that is full of interstate road directions." Considering I was practically surrounded by a spaghetti pile of interstate and beltway roads, I knew God knew what I was talking about. He is omniscient, after all, not to mention fluent in every living and dead language. God has some mad skills.
Yep, I saw a sign.
After pondering whether my tummy was hungry or not (and missing two food exits), I finally stopped for lunch. But Burger King was all out of the cherry icee yet I could have a Coke one instead.
What?!
I wisely said no to the temptation.
See, just between us, I'm an addict. A caffine addict. My son says caffine is Christian crack. I tend to agree. In fact, I'd say I'm not the only Christian caffine addict. Can you go for a week without any caffine soft drinks or without coffee? Oh, now there's another Christian crack.
Yet, say that at a church event and you'll get the "we should excommunicate you for that statement." I feel the deacons at my church breathing down my neck.
Shiver me timbers.
Anyhoo, I realized I was addicted to Starbucks so I stopped. No white chocolate lattes. No chai lattes. No frappachinos. And I stopped drinking Cherry Coke and the non-diet like. And I'm dying. No, seriously. I yearn for coffee. I yearn for a Cherry Coke. Yet to give in would give my addiction power over me. So miss church Sunday mornign because I was puking because I had a headache and body aches because I wanted either a Starbucks coffee or a Cherry Coke. I am pathetic.
No addiction, no matter how innocent and legal it may be, honors God.
When I have to have a soft drink, a coffee, or a [fill in whatever it is you have to have the first thing in the morning] to wake up, to get through the morning, to begin my day, etc...anything that comes before me and time with God is a god in my life and in your life. This morning I wanted to check my e-mail, but I didn't until after I'd spent time reading God's Word.
I didn't have to be wander-driving around Washington DC to know that without God I AM LOST. And with Him, I have all I need to live an abundant life.
"For in Him [Jesus] dwells the fullness of the Godhead bodily; and you are comlete in Him, who is the head of all principality and power." Colossins 2:9-10
Now please don't anyone begin the excommunication proceedings. I really am a nice person. I am. Mostly. Although I don't feed the cat. Mostly. Usually. Hey, thanks to me she's losing her winter fat. I only starve her because I want her to look fashionable, and if that's not love...
Never have.
And I know why. I don't want the responsibility of driving. Instead, I'd rather take a nap, read a book, take a nap, look at the scenery, take a nap, listen to the radio, or take a nap. Are you hearing me? I'm a slumberer.
So when I had to drive home yesterday from Reagan National Airport, I wasn't an overly happy camper. See note about slumberer.
Call me crazy, but sleeping and driving don't mix well.
My instructions were follow the road out of the airport (the one that says TO WASHINGTON) and stick to the one that runs along the Potomac. Eventually it'll take me to I395 which will take me to I95. Well, I did, but then I realized I was going north and I didn't want to go north. So I figured I'd get off 395North and loopy around until I was going south.
Contrary to popular knowledge, Washington DC is not loopy.
At least the roads aren't.
So after a nice sight-see of the White House, the National Mall, some lovely cherry blossoms, and the Washington Monument, I realized the solution to my crisis.
Pray.
Pray hard and fast, and it went something like this:
"God, I'm lost. Literally. And since I don't want to panic like some insipid girl, I'd really appreciate some guidence because...well, You are all I've got. I don't know who to ask for directions and odds are, that person wouldn't speak English anyway, which rather vexes me becuase if you live in my country, you better learn my language because I don't have the time or motivation to learn yours. I'd rather watch Smallville. So, Lord, impress upon me where to go. Hey, there's a tunnel, I went through a tunnel somewhere. No, that's a bridge. My bad. And I'd really appreciate a I395 road sign. Should I turn here? I think I will."
For literary purposes, that prayer may have been embellished.
Okay it was.
What I really prayed was "God, I'm lost, You're all I've got, give me a 395 sign."
And He did.
Soon I was back on I395 going south. But then I kinda sorta took the exit ramp and got offer near the Sprinfield Mall. Not being someone who panics because panicking would make me an insipid girl, I calmly prayed, "God, I could really use one of those big signs that is full of interstate road directions." Considering I was practically surrounded by a spaghetti pile of interstate and beltway roads, I knew God knew what I was talking about. He is omniscient, after all, not to mention fluent in every living and dead language. God has some mad skills.
Yep, I saw a sign.
After pondering whether my tummy was hungry or not (and missing two food exits), I finally stopped for lunch. But Burger King was all out of the cherry icee yet I could have a Coke one instead.
What?!
I wisely said no to the temptation.
See, just between us, I'm an addict. A caffine addict. My son says caffine is Christian crack. I tend to agree. In fact, I'd say I'm not the only Christian caffine addict. Can you go for a week without any caffine soft drinks or without coffee? Oh, now there's another Christian crack.
Yet, say that at a church event and you'll get the "we should excommunicate you for that statement." I feel the deacons at my church breathing down my neck.
Shiver me timbers.
Anyhoo, I realized I was addicted to Starbucks so I stopped. No white chocolate lattes. No chai lattes. No frappachinos. And I stopped drinking Cherry Coke and the non-diet like. And I'm dying. No, seriously. I yearn for coffee. I yearn for a Cherry Coke. Yet to give in would give my addiction power over me. So miss church Sunday mornign because I was puking because I had a headache and body aches because I wanted either a Starbucks coffee or a Cherry Coke. I am pathetic.
No addiction, no matter how innocent and legal it may be, honors God.
When I have to have a soft drink, a coffee, or a [fill in whatever it is you have to have the first thing in the morning] to wake up, to get through the morning, to begin my day, etc...anything that comes before me and time with God is a god in my life and in your life. This morning I wanted to check my e-mail, but I didn't until after I'd spent time reading God's Word.
I didn't have to be wander-driving around Washington DC to know that without God I AM LOST. And with Him, I have all I need to live an abundant life.
"For in Him [Jesus] dwells the fullness of the Godhead bodily; and you are comlete in Him, who is the head of all principality and power." Colossins 2:9-10
Now please don't anyone begin the excommunication proceedings. I really am a nice person. I am. Mostly. Although I don't feed the cat. Mostly. Usually. Hey, thanks to me she's losing her winter fat. I only starve her because I want her to look fashionable, and if that's not love...
Monday, April 07, 2008
Way to go, Kaylee!
My niece Kaylee has been cast as the orphan July in the musical Annie Jr. Over 100 children audition to this Wichita, Kansas show.
As my sister/Kaylee's mom says, "The funny thing is that July is .... 13 yrs-old and spunky. Kaylee - spunky -- yes but is biological 11 but looks 9. She is also the Annie #2 aka the understudy."
Age, smage.
Size, smwize.
She'll do great.
After all, she's my niece, and I am brilliant. I taught my oldest (Matthew13.11) to teach the baby (Niley1.2) to say "I love you." Granted, it comes out more as aiiii wub woo, but still, we all know what she's saying.
As my sister/Kaylee's mom says, "The funny thing is that July is .... 13 yrs-old and spunky. Kaylee - spunky -- yes but is biological 11 but looks 9. She is also the Annie #2 aka the understudy."
Age, smage.
Size, smwize.
She'll do great.
After all, she's my niece, and I am brilliant. I taught my oldest (Matthew13.11) to teach the baby (Niley1.2) to say "I love you." Granted, it comes out more as aiiii wub woo, but still, we all know what she's saying.
I think I'm going to take a nap!
When I got up this morning, I had a couple of blog ideas. But then I had to make a run to the airport. So between taking the scenic route home from Reagan National and dealing with one of my son's teachers (we have a parent-student-teacher conference on Wednesday), I forgot all I wanted to blog about.
Kids 2&3 will be home soon, so I think I'm going to take an nap.
I'm sure later I'll have something to blog about.
Either the two Tamera Alexander books I read over the weekend or Sunday's sermon. Or maybe both, although they aren't related at all.
Yes, a nap is in order.
Kids 2&3 will be home soon, so I think I'm going to take an nap.
I'm sure later I'll have something to blog about.
Either the two Tamera Alexander books I read over the weekend or Sunday's sermon. Or maybe both, although they aren't related at all.
Yes, a nap is in order.
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