So Much Cooler Online

I have spent the better part of this morning reading blogs from all kinds of women (rarely men) from all parts of the country. Some make me laugh. Some make me hungry. A few inspire me to do something crafty and a few cause me to shake my head in disbelief. One thing they all have in common, though, is they all entertain the heck out of me.

I love people. No, I am not a people-person and I have not momentarily lost my mind, but I really do love people. Real people. The people who admit their faults and laugh at their mistakes. People who know they're not perfect and aren't afraid to tell you about it.

It all makes me feel unusually normal.

Blogs are not like facebook or twitter. For instance, on either one of those you might find some random, attention-seeking post like,

I CAN'T BELIEVE THE NERVE OF SOME PEOPLE!!

On a blog, you'll get that story in detail. In fact, if you've read any particular blog long enough, you start to feel like you actually know the people. You (or at least I do) will find yourself nodding in agreement with the shenanigans surrounding everyday people in everyday life.

On a blog, you won't just find a picture of half-eaten food on a obvious restaurant-style plate (those photos have always driven me insane)- you'll get a story about why that particular dish is picture-worthy. You won't get a series of "check-ins" or "self-portraits". You really only get what that particular writer feels is worth taking the time to write and let's face it, your daily stop at the gas station  or your boobs peeking out from your new lace cami is probably not gonna top the list of important things to write about on any given day.

Whoops. I did it again... caused another pair of eyes to roll heavenward. I can almost hear the fury of clicks as people scurry away from what I deem worthy to publish to the virtual screen. I'm probably just jealous. I can't check-in at the gas station or take fitting-room pics with my stylin' pink, Pantech dumbphone. Otherwise I would probably join the masses- though I seriously doubt it.

The moral of today's front porch story? Don't judge other bloggers based on me. Scroll around. You're sure to find someone who shares your interests. Blogs are a lot of fun. They're real. And hey, if you don't like 'em, just move on the next one.

I've lost lots of readers that way. =)

DOES THIS POST MAKE ME LOOK FAT? (And Even If It Does, This Is YOUR Chance To Chime In... Go Ahead & Give Me Your Two Cents' Worth)

(And I just realized my entry yesterday had to do with bacon. Y'all go easy on me, okay?)

Moving on.

Last night my dreams were so vivid, I could describe in detail to you the process by which I fixed a broken window sash and installed new mini-blinds. When I say detail, believe me, I mean detail... right down to the quarter-inch rectangle outlined with a border of bright green in which I slid a new glass pane into... and I have no idea where that originated. At any rate, I woke up this morning thinking about that window and other specific items and processes in that (or those) dream(s) and thought, if only life were that easy.

I am sure I am like you in that whenever my kids are hurt or bothered about something, I am hurt or bothered about that same thing. When they outgrew diapers and training wheels and elementary schools, I knew that my time of fixing things was coming to an end. Yes, I can fix dinner or fix their laundry, so to speak. I can buy things they need to fix a project and sometimes even help them fix a dilemma; but for the most part, that is where all the fixing ends. I can't fix a thought or an image in their head.

To be more specific, her head.

The youngest. The daughter. Our daughter. My daughter.

God bless her.

 Beautiful.
 Kind.
 Healthy.
 Smart.

And going through what every woman or girl, young or old, goes through and deals with on an all too familiar and yet regular basis. Body image. How she looks. What she likes and doesn't like. Comparisons.

You know how some of you tell me often that I should write a book? Well, I wrote a rather long book in my head last night and it was filled with stories from you. Women and men. How different people face the reality that what the mirror reveals WILL NEVER win over what photoshop and airbrushing can create.

Do you care? Did you care?

Look, this isn't the first time the subject has come up in our house. I'm sure it won't be the last. I have my own issues to deal with in a size fourteen pant. Five years ago I was a size four. A four. Somewhere along that particular path I think I got a little sidetracked with things like sweet tea and barbecue and those blasted chicken wings. That I can deal with. That's me.

But when I see my girl struggling, a girl in high school who runs and walks and bikes and is by all accounts a perfectly healthy young lady... well, even the middle, son number two, got a little upset last night when he described to me the LIES he sees twisting the truth every day for every man, woman, and child alive.

You have a thought? Leave a comment if you like or better yet, send me your story via the email address found at the very bottom of the left tab. You never know, I might actually take all those stored chapters I write in my head and actually transfer them to paper one day. I do think there's a book in there... I just have no idea what it's about.

Not installing mini-blinds, though. That's for sure.

Why I'm Comparing CATS To People, I Have No Idea, But...

I am watching an old cat play with nothing more than a corner of a rug and stray particles of dust dancing in the sunshine. He complains loudly every now and then about his empty food bowl only to return to the task at hand: chasing things that aren't there and cleaning his paws like there's no tomorrow. He's had somewhat of a stressful life (though the husband would say the cat's got it made) and he doesn't get too excited about too much anymore. Every so often, however, you see a spark of what that cat use to be and let me tell you, it brings a glimmer of joy to my heart. Even now he his performing his trademark acrobatic trick to conquer the  feet of the middle as he walks by. Pure bliss.

I think I've pondered before the attitude of a cat. Sure they're moody for the most part and leave no doubt as to who they think is in charge, but their needs are relatively few and once they're satisfied, they really don't complain a whole lot. They prefer the solitude of a window sill to a rowdy group on a street corner (and I have no idea where that comparison came from). At any rate, they are much more relaxing to be around than most people I know.

Oops. I should probably rephrase that. I love being around the people I know.

Just not the ones who complain every Sunday morning that there is not one decent church left on the planet. Really? Or the married ones who drool publicly at every half-dressed member of the opposite sex that crosses their path. Come on, now. That's just tacky and insulting to your supposedly better half. If you must, drool in private at the very least.

Okay, okay. I'll stop with that. This could get ugly quick if it hasn't crossed that line already. Besides, I've got to get ready for my own church service which I happen to love even if it (or the people in it) are nowhere near as perfect as heaven will be...  imagine that. Meanwhile, there's a pair of big, green eyes boring into me, sending me a silent and yet forceful message:

Fill my food bowl and I'll be your friend for life.

I love that old cat.

I Could Be Something Great (If I Ever Got Out Of Bed)

I do some of my best writing at night.

In bed.
In my mind.

Complete essays. Deep insight. Intriguing theories.

Introduction.
Body.
Conclusion.

I can picture the written word clearly. I visualize the paragraphs, use good transitional sentences, and correct my grammar. I think of different opening lines and optional closing remarks. I convince myself that I'll remember it all in the morning and eventually drift off to sleep.

Then I wake up and remember nothing.

Oh, I remember tidbits here and there. It's like catching a glimpse of something great, like maybe the sun trying to peek through dark curtains on a dreary day, but never quite grasping the full, glorious picture. Such a mental block climbs beyond frustration. I really should get up when inspiration strikes, but that bed is too darn warm.

Such is the price of laziness.

Last night's masterpiece included a response to a recent blog I read via Pinterest. The young author presented her ten (or maybe fourteen?) surefire steps to a happy, healthy marriage. This female optimist has been married for three (or maybe five?) years and has no children. Judging from the pictures that accompanied her post, she and her husband are fresh out of college, attractive as in that athletic way, and in love with the world and everyone around them.

And if you know me, you can only imagine the thoughts that ran through my mind.

Well, okay... my thoughts were not that dire. I'm all for optimistic love. Really. I was there once, too. I'm still in love with the man and with the hope that never ends and with the knowledge that my God says it will all work out in the end. Life has a way of throwing those curve balls at you, though. Things you never saw coming. Things that if you had saw coming you might have cashed it in then for fear that you would never make it out alive.

But you do make it out. A little more beat up. Maybe some bruises. Definitely a scar or two. A war story all your own.

The husband says he thinks things are about to change for us. Maybe the tide is turning. He's been deep in his Bible of a night. Maybe he's reading about the end times. Maybe he's reading about Job. I don't ask. That's between him and the Lord and a direct violation of Optimistic Young Wife's Advice in Tip Number Seven (or maybe Tip Number Nine?). According to her, I'm suppose to ask him his thoughts on a daily basis.

Chuckle. Chuckle.

She'll learn and she'll tweak her own tips as the years progress and babies come and money goes. I should know. I tweak my own internal advice on a daily basis. I expect the unexpected.

And I've not been disappointed.

Now if I'd only get out of bed and transfer those nighttime writings from my mind to paper, I might actually get somewhere... and make a whole lot more sense in the process.

An Unsolicited Plug for Ted Dekker and Barnes & Noble (although a few royalties sent my way would not go unappreciated)...

One of my favorite books- a book I always go back to and have reread too many times to count, is Heaven's Wager by Ted Dekker. He was one of my favorite authors at one time and still is to a point. His newer stuff is a bit... well, strange (for lack of a better word) and I abruptly abandoned him a few years back when he joined the vampire bandwagon... nonetheless, his earlier work has forever captured my attention. Heaven's Wager is part of a The Heaven Trilogy (or The Martyr's Song Series) that also includes When Heaven Weeps and Thunder of Heaven. I had hardcopies of all three books at one time, but during some reckless, pointless cleaning spree a year or so, donated them or gave them away to friends or some other ridiculous, not-so-well-planned lame action of mine.

As luck would have it, this series came up an excellent e-book offer through Barnes & Noble (see link below). I wouldn't be surprised if Amazon offers the same thing. Trust me, it's well worth the thirteen bucks and change it takes to download:

"Three GREAT Books For One Decent Price," says Angela.

What's to love about Heaven's Wager? It's a modern day story with the spirit of Job from the Old Testament. It's a moving reminder that God is at work in all things, even when it seems He has left the building. It never fails to encourage me.

There is no neutral ground in the universe:

 every square inch, every split second,

 is claimed by God and counter-claimed by Satan.

~C.S. Lewis

I know my entries can get downright depressing sometimes. Trust me, if it weren't for my parents, who also happen to be my biggest fans, my writing would probably drift a little farther to the dark side. I can struggle with wrapping my mind around what my spirit knows to be true. I don't think that's necessarily a character flaw; I just think that's who I am. I am a sinner saved by grace. I live in an upside-down world. I am just like you- I just don't sugarcoat it with fairy dust and rainbows.

Oops. There I go again. The husband says sarcasm may be the end of me one day. He's probably right.
Read the book. Tell me what you think. I'll do my best to keep my smart remarks to myself.



And as a postscript, to whoever has been backtracking and reading old entries from this rambling journal of mine, thanks for coming back. It might be my mom or a friend I just met or that faithful reader from Israel... whoever it may be, I have noticed. I know I could pinpoint you (they make an app for everything, you know), but I kind of like the mystery of it all. Remember, what my life lacks in reality, I make up for in my mind.  =)

Twilight WHYlight

Wikipedia Photo

I like to read. A lot. Mostly I like to read historical non-fiction and political thrillers, but every now and then I need a break from having to think too much and revert to what I like to call fluff. This summer, that fluff consisted of the Twilight Series (excuse me, Twilight Saga) that was all the rage a few years back. Even though I finished the final book a few weeks ago, it's taken me some time to wrap my mind around it.

Although I still don't quite understand the draw that claimed millions of fans (I'm assuming the numbers here), I can finally understand the fascination with all the vampire paraphernalia that was marketed toward young girls (and their mothers). If you can get past the whole sinking your teeth into living flesh and an insatiable thirst for blood, the vampire lifestyle might not be a bad way to go.*  I mean, the end of the series presents the perfect picture of the perfect immortal family.** Of course, there is no clear-cut resolution as to whether or not a vampire actually has a soul and where that soul might reside when death does occur (by tearing the vampire apart and burning the body pieces, in case you were curious), but hey... to a young girl dreaming of true love and a happily ever after, a vampire with golden eyes, skin that sparkles, and will power made of steel (it does you no good if he kills you by mistake)... well, maybe love can be found in the craziest of places.

Yeah. That's a stretch, I know.

The short story is that I read the books because my daughter had watched a few of the movies a while back. We read the books together and talked about the content along the way. As much as I found the whole concept exasperating- as a mother, I do not appreciate any kind of love story that makes life appear not worth living if teenage romance is not realized- even so, I was hooked by the end of the first book. I wanted to see what would happen in the next one and the one after that. When it was all said and done, though, I would have rather spent that money on a two-week pedicure, a large hazelnut latte, and a triple chocolate brownie. Of course, the conversations I had with my girl because of the series... well, now that kinda makes it all worth it. Anything to reinforce a few key concepts of life and love:

God has that perfect someone for you,
And he will most likely have a beating heart.


*   Please tell me you recognize the sarcasm here.
** I'll take Jesus, His gift of eternal life, and an imperfect family.

Eat More Chicken! (Or At Least Learn A Lesson From A Couple Of Cats)

I'll tell you, people never run out of having something to talk about complain about, that is. Between the on-going headlines about the tragedy in Colorado (is anyone else sick of seeing that bright orange hair?) to the recent back-and-forth about Chick-fil-A and their stance on biblical values (including valued opinions [HA!] from Miley Cyrus and the Kardashian clan), I am weary of clicking on any online news link. For that matter, my own facebook page is driving me insane. Come on, people, even my cats get along. They don't always agree... like who should have dibs on the food bowl first... but the older one will wait patiently why the younger, more immature one has her turn. When the more feisty, young one (with claws, mind you) pesters the more laid-back, been around the block more than once, older cat (without claws), the old just watches the young with little interest waiting for her to run out of steam.

Call me crazy, but I think there's a lesson there.

And this entry was just interrupted by my daughter's alarm. She's not even here and yet the sound of "We Wish You A Merry Christmas" was playing from her room. I'll have to ask her about that one later. I can never figure out her alarm to turn it off, but I can figure out the yanking of the batteries. I've never been a fan of Christmas in July.

Back to business, though. There is real life happening out there, remember? A good friend of mine had a scare yesterday with her grandbaby-to-be. My husband's grandma is still recovering from a car accident that happened over a month ago. Drought-stricken states are arguing with government agencies about whether or not they can use what corn they do have for food or fuel. Regardless of what mainstream media polls or a late-night-show-hopping president has to say, unemployment is still a big problem. And on a more pressing note, we are having issues with ants and other creepy crawlies in the house. A woman can only take so much, you know.

Meanwhile, families in Colorado are learning what life is like when the cameras and reporters turn their attention to the Olympics and what Team USA will be wearing while they are still minus one at the dinner table. And when it comes down to it, does anyone really care where you get your next chicken sandwich at anyway? I mean, I'm all for Chick-fil-A, hands down. I've always admired their company and Closed On Sunday policy (much like Hobby Lobby), but the real reason I go there is for the service (and well, they do have the BEST chocolate chip cookie ever). I'll be there next Wednesday for the big appreciation day, but I'm there at least one day out of the week anyway. I also like KFC for my Sunday after-church dinner and Wendy's new almond-chicken-berry salad any day of the week.

Yes. I just like chicken.
I also like rainbows in the sky.
And cats that play nice.

Happy Thursday!

Facebook No More (Well... Maybe)

Here we go. The great facebook debate. To stay or not to stay. For the first time since I joined the site, I do believe I'm about done. I logged on this morning to see the status update of someone who is not on my friend list for good reason:

A). I have no clue who the person is, and
B). Vulgar language about male body parts is something I can do without.

Since facebook implemented their latest round of changes to the site, pretty much everyone is open game. It all has to do with mutual friends and status updates and comments and likes and all that, but the short of the story is, if I can view information about people that I am not personally linked to, then those same people can see mine. I have always been very particular about my friend list. I keep it at around 100 (this in a world where people have 300-500-1000! people on their list of friends). Yes, I've unfriended people who:

A). Never commented or updated anything anyway which for some reason annoys me, or
B). Used that aforementioned vulgar language about body parts or their mama or God.

I figured that was the point of having some sort of control. I immediately nixed the whole places feature that turns ordinary people into celebrities by allowing the paparazzi (aka their friend list) to follow their every move. That kind of thing is just not for me. I once "followed" a guy as he went from the library to the gym to Starbucks and finally back to his home. This is one of those guys who has friends in the 1000s and think about it, if I was following him via facebook (this was back in my farmville days... 198 days sober!), how many other people were also? He's got a beautiful home, a beautiful wife who stays home with beautiful kids, and a brand-new 52" flatscreen/LCD/HD3D (I have NO idea what I'm talking about here)... anyway, he's one of those people that will post everything about his life.

Does this make me sound like a stalker? I promise you I'm not, but with the information that some people put out there, I almost feel like one. I'm just a semi-bored housewife with no evil intention at all who just also happens to be very observant. Imagine if I really were looking to do something like steal your new tv or investigate your child custody case or raise your property taxes...

Yeah. Maybe I should go offline with facebook.
I may not have many friends left after this anyway.

My point is that there is so much information out there. Yes, I give my own pointless updates and post pointless pictures from time to time and just generally have a little fun with it all, but that control, my control, is slowly getting peeled away and I gotta tell you, I don't like it one bit. As I told one other person earlier this morning, the whole thing is starting to get a little creepy. I know there are people out there, good people, who could care less about the whole privacy issue. That's just not me. I didn't have a high security clearance for nothing, you know.

I'm a private person (who also happens to write a public blog).
Yes. I do see the irony there.

So what happens to a facebook user who leaves the arena? Is there withdrawal? You know, the farmville reference earlier was just a joke (I really haven't counted the number of days since I last plowed or harvested or whatever), but I did discover more time once I stopped.  Maybe I won't miss it at all.

Or maybe I won't go anywhere.
Are there really more changes in store?
Am I jumping ship too early?

I never had this problem in the pre-facebook world.

No Wonder We're Depressed

While researching some info for a paper I'm working on regarding women and depression, I came across the following video:

Not much else to say, is there?

Mail-Order Husbands

I feel like I have lost an entire week to a serious case of un-motivation. Zero ambition. Massive drop in the energy level. Enormous case of the uncaring blues. I could blame it on a minor little infection I was battling. Or the medicine I was taking that made me tired. It was that time of the month. Maybe I'm just missing the kids. Could be the weather. Or the lack of a vehicle. Money woes? Possibly.

Wow. Now that I think of it, maybe it wasn't all in my head.
This is why it helps me to write things out.
Which brings me to another issue I've been thinking about.

Should a blog be public or private? Do I put too much information on here? I don't mean my emotions and feelings and opinions about my pretty ordinary, everyday life. I mean like personal information stuff. I certainly don't want my picture or my daughter's or for that matter my brother's to end up on some foreign matchmaking, mail-order bride/husband delivery sheet.

Which poses another question.
Is there such a thing as a mail-order husband?
Not that I have one for sale or anything.

I wouldn't know how much to charge for him anyway. He's pretty handy.

This techno world amazes, confuses, and scares me all at the same time. I've spent a good week as it is researching new cell phones for an upgrade. We don't do the smartphone thing (although I'm starting to think I would seriously consider a little more monthly debt to experience one) and a non-smartphone with a decent plan is coming harder and harder to come by. I found a pretty cool one, though, complete with a phone tracker device (all kids should look away at this point).

As a parent, I love that.
As a kid, I would cry unfair!
Is there anywhere we can hide?

My husband wishes he could have been alive two hundred years ago. I'm not so sure. Although I get pretty stressed out sometimes by this modern world, I have a washing machine that is at this very moment doing all the hard work for me. I'm good with that. In fact,  I think the hum of that motor is a beautiful sound. A good friend of mine just bought a brand-spanking new Camaro. Riding in that thing beats the dust and heat of a covered wagon on a rutted-out dirt road any day.

Not that I would know by experience.
But I'd wager it's a pretty good guess.
Modernization isn't all bad.

Let me know your thoughts on the whole public vs. private blog thing anyway. Or your opinion on facebook and other social networks. You can even tell me what you think of people who text at the dinnertable. Just don't tell me I should wash my clothes by hand in the creek.

I don't think we would agree on that one.