How to Survive If You Have No One to Kiss on New Year's Eve

One of the attorneys I work with has been sharing his daily "How To Survive" calendar pages with me, and I've shared a couple of them with you along the way this past year. This is the final entry for 2008, and I thought you would enjoy it...

How to Survive If You Have No One to Kiss on New Year's Eve

1. Kiss a pet. Dogs are generally agreeable and have clean mouths. Cats are usually well groomed but are more passive and tend to get rather than give. Keep your mouth closed. Hmmmmm...not sure what to say on this one, but I think for now I'd prefer to forgo the above mentioned kiss entirely. Ask me again if I'm still single at 40.

2. Kiss yourself. Find a mirror, pucker up, lean close and kiss. Keep your lips slightly parted. Do not attempt to use your tongue. Wipe the mirror after you have completed your kiss. You may also try kissing the back of your hand. Hee hee! A little bit of excess self-love, eh?

3. Hug a pillow. Full-body pillows are more satisfying. I love hugging my pillow. Good stuff!

4. Call a friend on the phone. After you wish your a friend a Happy New Year, give the telephone mouthpiece loud, smacking kisses.

Hmmmm...I think I'm just gonna go bed early and skip this ritual altogether. Hee hee!

Happy New Year, my friends! Chat with ya again in 2009.

White Knuckles and Trucking

So much for wishful thinking...my drive to Michigan was a bit more eventful than I would have liked, but the good news is that I did make it to my parents' home in one piece, albeit a couple of hours later than I had planned.

I ran into a winter wonderland on my drive. It was quite beautiful and magical in places with the snow swirling down on top of the 3 foot snow drifts along the road. Apparently, Michigan has already had quite a snow-filled winter, and this latest snowfall just added to their record tally for the year. The exit and entrance ramps were treacherous and looked as if they hadn't been plowed at all. The highway was mostly cleared however, but that howling wind and bitter cold temperatures just made black ice more frequent. The drive was definitely not boring, and when I finally landed in my parents' driveway and fell out of my car and kissed the snow-encrusted ground late that afternoon, I literally had sore palms from gripping the steering wheel so intensely. Pretty wild!

I spend a lot of time on my own generally, but I usually have more distractions like the TV or my laptop, etc. So being alone in my car for 8+ hours with my thoughts was quite curious. I had plenty of time to think, talk to myself, chat on my cell phone a bit, talk over the state of the world with GOD and listen to tunes. My mind was racing in a hundred different directions, and I kept jotting ideas about things I want to write about later or research online. You know me and my post-its. I made good use of them. I had lots to contemplate...

Do you ever wonder about truck drivers? Ever since my oldest brother started driving a delivery truck, I've had more respect for truck drivers. I find them mostly courteous on the roads, and so I return the favor. I'm always getting over into the left lane to let them merge off the ramps, or I'm slowing down to let them get in front of me. Yeah, I'm that car. You probably hate me, but I figure that they need our respect. And I try my hardest not to sneak up on the big rigs when I use the cruise control. My sister once accused me of "sneaking up" on semis, and it's been something I've been conscious of ever since.

Have you wondered at their tireless service to the world of commerce? They are delivering goods all over the country, traveling around the clock sometimes just to get my shampoo to Meijer's shelves or to keep my favorite baked tortilla chips stocked and waiting for me. I wonder how many of them had to make a haul on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day? Imagine their families waiting for them back home. They put in all those hours helping to keep our cupboards and pantries full, they travel long distances often going the same routes every week, they spend lots of time away from their families and loved ones, they endure the road rage of commuters and the belligerent hand gestures of fellow motorists. And yet I wonder how often they hear a word of thanks? Well, I can't be silent any more...

THANK YOU, Mr. or Ms. Truck Driver, for the countless miles of travel you have clocked for me and my fellow citizens of planet Earth! Thank you for helping me see to it that I never run out of toilet paper, post-its, potatoes, bottled water or ice cream. I might not be able to personally thank you each individually, but I am grateful to you for keeping me stocked up on the staples that my life requires. Thank you and GOD bless!

I'm Back Again...

I spent 6 hours in the car today and had a great day of listening to tunes as I cruised along. No speeding tickets by the way, for those rude enough to ask. Come on, people, it was like 7 or 8 years ago. I think my record has been expunged by now...HA!

My brain is churning with ideas on what to write next, but for now, I'm going to just head to bed and catch up on some rest. I'll write more later and share some pictures. I'm exhausticated (to exhaustion and beyond), and I'm ready to dream the night away.

Traveling Through a Snow Globe

I love snow globes. I do. In the last couple of years, I have started my own collection of those whimsical trinkets that make me smile. But while I love looking at snow globes and shaking them up, I don't like driving in snow globe conditions at all. I know, I'm from Michigan, and everyone is always reminding me of that fact and telling me that I should love everything about the snow. Apparently, if you look up a "Michigander" in the dictionary, you are defined as a person who loves to drive in the snow, on ice, through sleet, etc. HA! Don't you believe it! It's just not true. I do love snow, but only if I can stay off the roads during the snowstorm.

I chatted with my parents a couple of times today, and it sounds like I have a little window of time tomorrow to make my way to Michigan before they get dumped on again with more snow, and so I'm heading up to MI a day early. My Mom said they have at least a foot on the ground already and are expecting a few more inches tomorrow and more to come later this week. WOW! Maybe I should take my snow skis! WAIT! I don't have any, and I've never skied in my life. That's another Michigan tale for you...if you are from Michigan, you should know how to ski, ice skate, play hockey, etc. Ommmm...is one and a half out of 3 all right? I can stand upright on ice skates, and glide around a little. That's about it though. I hardly resemble Katarina Witt's graceful figure on the ice. Hee hee! And while I don't play hockey, I do understand it, and so I'm giving myself 1/2 a point there.

Anyway, because of the big storm coming, I'm off to Michigan in the morning, and I will be off line for about a week. I have yet to get my parents online. Although, they did just get cable for the first time, and so who knows what is on the horizon for them next. I think, it will be good for me to be off line. [GULP!] Yes, I will probably miss blogging, googling to my heart's content, looking up new words, chatting online and catching up with friends regularly, but it's all good. A little break from technology will not kill me, and I'm really looking forward to a great visit with my parents and Grandma in person. I'm excited!

Merry Christmas, All, and to All a Good Night!

Flaming Up

This is courtesy of my daily dose of Hungry Girl (the email was sent 12/22/2008):

"A new cologne called Flame has arrived, courtesy of our pals at Burger King. The scent will have guys smelling like juicy Whoppers with just a single spritz. Soooo, if you want your man to smell flame-broiled and meaty, click here..."

OK, I confess it. I like the smell of flame-broiled burgers just fine. In fact, it's been months since I've indulged in having a real burger, and it sounds pretty darn good right about now, but this ad disturbs me. I know what you’re thinking: Mel, you’ve been disturbed for a while now. I can’t contest that, but the fact is that seeing this site today sent chills up and down my spine. No, REAL chills, people! If you click on the bottle and get “sprayed” several times, you’ll see what I mean. That Burger King head disturbs me anyway, and with him seductively beckoning from the fireplace like that, well, that just tips me over the edge. I’m officially creeped out now.

Nothing smells romance like a flame-broiled burger, right? AHEM! But do you really want your man smelling like a whopper? It’s a rhetorical question. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. I mean, is it safe though? What if you are arm-in-arm walking down the street, and you pass someone who is really hungry and that person starts to chase you thinking that one of you has food? OK, maybe I've watched too many zombie movies lately, but it does make one wonder if Burger King has done proper testing on this substance. I see the potential for disaster.

And don’t plan to go to the zoo with that stuff sprayed on your neck, or you just might get attacked by a large cat or a hungry grizzly bear. “Death by Cologne” might seem like a romantic headline now. And you might laugh at one of the following headlines for their pure comedic value: “The Scent of a Whopper Can Kill” or “Meaty Man Falls Prey to the Hungry Lioness.” But, I highly doubt it would be a pleasant experience or the way you would really like to be remembered by those you leave behind.

So I say NO to this scent. Men: it might seem like a good idea at the time, but I think it could be a fatal mistake. DANGER! DANGER! There are lots of thin model-types that are living on 1 potato chip per day, and there are far too many women on diets who have gone for months without a juicy burger, and if you walk into a room with that scent on, things could get really ugly fast. Be careful. It’s a jungle out there.

Baby, It's Cold Outside...

Friday night for no apparent reason, I lost power for a couple of hours at my place. It all happened while I was making my 3rd trip from the car up to my apartment with my arms full of groceries and final gift purchases. You know I must have had to buy a lot of stuff if I couldn't make them all fit in one trip. I'm rather known for my attempts at making grocery bag hauling an Olympic sport. I think my current record is 13 bags in one trip, but my arms were sore for a week after that. AHEM! Anyway as I opened my door on this third and final trip, the lights went out. Naturally I thought they would pop right back on again, but alas, that didn't happen.

I hastily dropped the last set of bags and went in search of candles. Tripping over a couple of bags as I found my way into the kitchen. I lit some candles. I think I had about 10 candles lit within 5 minutes, and so it was a nice and cozy moment, but I wasn't all that amused by the romantic scene at the time. I was more concerned about getting the food put away while the fridge and freezer were still relatively cold. So, I tucked things away promptly and then just sorta sat there waiting for the power to come back on. I waited and waited...for like 5 whole minutes. And then eventually, I called my friend Becky on my cell phone, and she invited me over to eat my dinner and just hang out until I got power again. So I packed a bag of food and carried my little battery-lit LED snowman with me down the stairs to my car so that I had some light. I didn't have a flashlight, and I needed to be able to see, and so my little snowman came in handy. I'm sure it looked a bit funny, but hey, it worked.

I had dinner at Becky's, got lectured about not having a flashlight, watched some TV with her, and then called my home phone and got my answering machine. WOOHOO! I had electricity again. I drove home with a brand new flashlight courtesy of Becky, who insisted I keep it for future use [Thanks, Becky!], and once I was home I settled in for the night with a sigh, basking in the glow of my twinkling Christmas lights.

Saturday afternoon was spent at the new Indianapolis International Airport with my family. We were all waiting for my oldest niece Janet to arrive home for her college Christmas break from North Carolina. Her flight was delayed, and so I spent a lot of time with Janet's cousin Grace, my youngest niece. Grace is 3 and highly entertaining. She and I went shopping at one of the stores, played with her new bear, and posed for some photos with the large Christmas tree on display. I like the new airport a lot. It's open and more inviting or something, and there sure is a lot of entertainment if you know where to look.

While we were waiting we were all rather fascinated at this young woman dressed in an elf or Santa's helper costume. She was wearing a very short little red and green dress complete with ruffly bloomers and white and red candy cane stockings, etc. We weren't quite sure what she was up to. She was standing by the large Christmas tree for the longest time looking over toward the other concourse. Eventually a flight arrived, and she seemed to be ducking down and hiding from the passengers. What was she doing? My sister Barbara wondered if she were a mime or something. She wasn't moving, she wasn't talking to anyone, but she was just standing there waiting.

Grace was particularly intrigued with her. Grace told me that she was probably waiting for her Mom, and while I thought it could be a possibility, I suspected that something else was up. But what? Soon over the loud speakers we heard, “Would Santa please report to the Christmas tree?” Right after that a male passenger walked over towards the tree and was surprised to find his wife dressed up for him. Awwww...OK, it was a bit cheesy, but hey, they are in love, and it's Christmas time, and I can excuse some PDA around the holidays.

Janet arrived safe and sound, and the whole gang headed out for some dinner to celebrate. It was a fun evening. Janet brought lots of books to study over her break, tales of class and apartment life, and a few photos of her first boyfriend named Chris. Yes, my 18 year old niece is now dating. Now that's scary!

So that brings us to today. It's Sunday, and let me just say, Baby, it's cold outside. It's frigid here in Indiana. I nearly froze running to and from my car on the way into church this morning. I came home to a hot meal, and I'm currently tucked in, cocooned in a blanket on my couch with my laptop at arm's length. I can still hear the wind howling outside my patio door. Brrrrrr... Stay warm, my friends!

Divulging Past Wrongs

Getting your college degree should be an exciting momentous occasion. Mine was. I attended Bob Jones University [BJU] and graduated in 1996 with my PR Journalism degree. I enjoyed my college years, especially the last 2 as I was totally immersed in Camp Spearhead and Special Olympics. When I stepped off that stage with my diploma in hand, I was ready to emerge into the world around me.

Well, it wasn't long after graduation that I learned just how differently the rest of the world viewed BJU. First there were the rules. Was there really a light bell? Yes, that one was true. Were women always in skirts? Yep. Did you really have to get permission at 22 years of age to leave campus in your own car? Right again.

Then there were the dating regulations. Everyone wanted to know if the sidewalks were really painted pink for girls and blue for boys. Nah--that one's not true. Was there really a place called the Dating Parlor? Sadly, that is affirmative as well. Not that I ever visited much. AHEM! Was there really such a thing as the six-inch rule? Quite true. Again, I didn't have any experience with that one either.

I was peppered with questions everywhere I went, and it got a bit old, but most of the time I didn't mind too much. However, sometimes those questions turned more poignant. People wanted to ask about race. Was interracial dating allowed? Did the university promote discrimination? Those questions were harder to answer, and they bothered me.

I'm Caucasian. I'm blonde with pale skin and green eyes. Yeah, I'm really white. It's genetics in action. Growing up, I was never taught that one race was better than another, but I do recall being taught that the races shouldn't mix. My pastor's wife even went so far as to lecture me about a crush I had on a boy named Dominic. He was full-blooded Italian, and my pastor's wife considered him a different race and off limits. Even then I thought that was completely ridiculous, and I remember my sister and I discussing it at length with some of our friends.

I went to college, and the same rules applied. I couldn't date outside my race. Well, dating at BJU was pretty much non-existent for me, and so I didn't mind the rule much at all. Sure, I thought it was over-the-top and had nothing to do with Scripture, but it was what I had gotten used to growing up after all, and it didn't personally affect me, and therein lies the key. It should have...

After college, I was challenged again and again about that rule from my non-BJU friends. They wanted to know how I could attend a school where there were such racial issues. Did you know about the rule? Yes, I told them, I did, but it didn't affect me personally, and it was then that I started thinking about my answer more in depth...

What if I had attended a college where I was one of only a few minority students, and I was told from day one that I could only date those of my own race? What if I had been told my options for love were limited? If I were Korean, I would need to find another Korean to see. If I were Indian, I would need to find a fellow Indian to date and so on. And not only that, but if I were bi-racial, I would need to select my race on day one and stick to those people in my racial dating pool, so to speak. That disgusts me now, and yet that was actually happening to some of my dear friends at BJU, and I had no idea what they were facing.

A few months ago, someone forward me a link to check out, and it got me thinking about this topic again. The site was started by some former BJU students who wrote a petition to the school president to ask BJU to publicly acknowledge the university's past of racial discrimination and then apologize for those wrongs done in the name of Christianity. It took me just a few moments to determine without any doubt that I personally needed to sign the petition, and so I did.

A couple of months later on November 20th, BJU issued a statement about race, complete with the following:

BJU’s history has been chiefly characterized by striving to achieve those goals; but like any human institution, we have failures as well. For almost two centuries American Christianity, including BJU in its early stages, was characterized by the segregationist ethos of American culture. Consequently, for far too long, we allowed institutional policies regarding race to be shaped more directly by that ethos than by the principles and precepts of the Scriptures. We conformed to the culture rather than provide a clear Christian counterpoint to it.

In so doing, we failed to accurately represent the Lord and to fulfill the commandment to love others as ourselves. For these failures we are profoundly sorry. Though no known antagonism toward minorities or expressions of racism on a personal level have ever been tolerated on our campus, we allowed institutional policies to remain in place that were racially hurtful.

I was glad to see the university own up to the past mistakes, which paves the way for a more harmonious future. I think that was primarily "our" objective at collecting the signatures on the petition: apologize for the past so we can move forward. But personally, this has still been plaguing me, and so I think I need to do the same...

Dear Friends:

I wish I had known then what I know now...Hindsight being 20/20 and all. Back then I went along with the tide, afraid to rock the boat or upset the status quo. I chose to keep my thoughts and opinions to myself. Looking back, I'm quite sure there have been many students over the years that felt discriminated against while attending BJU and that breaks my heart. I am so sorry. Please forgive me for going along with things as they were and not speaking out. Please forgive me for not showing more of Christ's unconditional, non-discriminatory love. I'm sorry if any of my actions or lack of response to what was going on caused any pain or hurt to anyone.

We're all members of the same race, humanity. We are brothers and sisters, and as Christians we are really all part of the same family. Sadly, we are a highly disfunctional family at times, but in HIM, in our Heavenly FATHER, we truly are united and will one day become the family HE wants us to be. So this is your sister speaking, and I want you to know that I love you. I really truly do. GOD bless!

Diet Girl Is Still a Kid

Diet Girl did something this week that she hasn't done in a very long time ago. I ordered off the kid's menu, and it felt good. And no, I wasn't at McDonald's eating a happy meal. I was at Ted's Montana Grill for lunch with my co-worker Dena, and I opted to order from the kid's menu. No chicken tenders or macaroni and cheese for me, although that was tempting. I ordered the kid's pot roast with mashed potatoes and green beans, and it was pretty healthy actually.

Here's the scoop. I've been noticing that when I eat out, I'm over-eating. Not intentionally and definitely not planned that way, but it still happens. Maybe part of it is that they always seem to bring out too much food, and I've still got that "gotta clean my plate" thing going on in my head. But I don't need all that food. It's too much of a good thing.

The kid's pot roast meal the other day was just a smaller portion of the adult plate, and to quote Goldilocks here, "it was just right." It was perfect. I felt good after eating my meal, and I knew I hadn't overdone it.

It's funny how things have changed over the last 8 months. Gone is the girl that thought she could eat whatever she wanted without a care in the world. My stomach is smaller, and I just can't put away the food like I used to be able to. So much has changed. I've lost 67 pounds since April 1st, and I'm just not the same person I was. Well, yes, I'm still Mel, and my personality is quite the same (whether you think that is a good or bad thing I leave up to you). I'm still rather wacky from time to time, a bit OCD, warped and sarcastic. But health-wise I'm moving in a different direction, and it is definitely all for the best.

Off in Dream World...

Mel loves words. You all know this about me, right? I'm a sucker for a well-turned phrase, an amusing anecdote, a romantic couplet, a brilliant comeback, or a delicious line in a movie or book. I keep a small little journal of my favorite movie lines and quotes so that I can whip them out at any minute for inspiration. Hey, you never know! And when it comes to music, I can't just listen to the words of a song. Actually, I prefer to read the lyrics completely first just to make sure I have captured the essence of a song BEFORE I hear it.

I'm a longtime AWAD [A.Word.A.Day] subscriber. Every weekday morning there is a gift waiting for me in my email inbox at work, a new word to chew over. It's wonderful. My favorite word this week is "doolally."

I'm an editor by nature. I can't leave things well enough alone. I have to tweak each line and attempt to get the phrase perfected before I can move on. Trust me, the editor in me has completely revised this posting at least twice already, and I'm not done yet.

I keep post-its with me all the time to jot down ideas, a phrase to blog about or something silly someone told me. Words are my life! I enjoy them, they enthrall me, and I tend to obsess about them.

Now, I don't know if you all remember having to diagram sentences in school, but it's something I recall. Subject on the left, verb on the right with a straight line dividing them... It wasn't my favorite part of English class, but I didn't really dread it either. I certainly haven't thought about it in ages, and yet somehow it has been haunting me.

The other night I woke up from a dream in a cold sweat. I was completely in a panic and glad to find myself tucked away in my bed and that it was all just a dream. Why you may ask? Well, because I was obviously having a terrible nightmare in which I had no memory of how to diagram a particular sentence. Horror of horrors, right? I mean, can you imagine the embarrassment that I was feeling and the relief that it was just a dream?

This was a first for me, not that I couldn't diagram a sentence, but that I was dreaming about it. I mean why can't I dream about falling or flying or something everyone else dreams about? Why was I dreaming about forgetting how to diagram sentences correctly? Most of my dreams are insane or rather incoherent. That's nothing new, but usually when I wake myself up in a panic it's because I'm afraid I'm being attacked by a spider the size of a bear or that I slept through light bell or was late for chapel and was going to get demerits. [OK, so most of my nightmares have to do with spiders or Bob Jones University. Well, apparently, BJU left quite a mark on my psyche because I have a dream like that at least once a month. HA! Hmmmm...what could it mean. OK, don't overanalyze it, Mel! Just let it go.]

So ever since my diagramming dream, I've been trying to recall all the rules for it just so that I'd be ready for my next nightmare. I googled "diagramming sentences" this morning, and some of it came back to mind pretty quickly. So it wasn't completely lost from my memory. But then I found this link, which made me laugh. It is a sentence diagram of the Preamble to the U.S. Constitution. You can also find the rest of the U.S. Constitution diagrammed for you as well as the Declaration of Independence, President Lincoln's Gettysburg address, etc. WOW! Feel free to check it out but not if you are afraid of having a bad dream. HA!

Getting Ready for the Holidays

Half of my Christmas present to myself arrived today. Yes, I spoiled myself just a wee bit this season. I didn't go too crazy, but I did splurge a little and get something I've been wanting for a while now. Plus, this is totally an England expense. I can use it on the flight to London and back. AHEM! Can you guess what it is yet?

Anyway, I ripped into the package just to check it out, and then I started laughing. You see, I wanted the other gift to arrive first, but that's just not the way it happened. My car charger thing-a-ma-bob for my new not-yet-shipped MP3 player came in the mail today. So, I'm hopeful that my new MP3 player (the other half of my gift) will arrive some time before Christmas (fingers crossed!) because me and my car (aka Madison) are ready! Have tunes will travel...to Michigan!

I'm really looking forward to 5 or 6 days on my own with my parents and my Grandma. I enjoyed last Christmas with them on my own, and I plan to make more incredible memories with them this year. It will just be the 4 of us, and I'm sure we'll play lots of games, watch a few movies and just catch up. I'm looking forward to some mellow down time away from patent filings and legal paperwork. Bring it on!

I finished wrapping Christmas gifts last night. Of course in the midst of all the tape, bows and tissue wrap, I realized that I had overdone it on gifts for my Mom and didn't have quite the same stash for my Dad. Mom is so much easier to shop for, and I guess I got carried away. So, I'll probably pick up a couple more things for my Dad. He deserves a great Christmas, too. Any ideas? I'm open to suggestions. Why are men so much harder to buy for? They say that women are difficult, and yes, on the rarest of occasions, I suppose we can be, but truth be told, we're just easier to buy for, I think, and we're so very easy to please. OK, I'm sure plenty of men are going to disagree with that one, and now I'm going to get some glaring emails from my male friends after this post. HA! So, let me just clarify...I wasn't talking about YOU GUYS! I was talking about those other males. So I wasn't completely over-generalizing my statement to your whole sex. AHEM!

OK, moving on...I sent out my Christmas cards and newsletter yesterday, and it felt nice getting them out more than a week before Christmas. WOOHOO!! But my moment of sublime happiness and bliss ended all too quickly. I heard from my friend Becky tonight (after she got the card and newsletter in today's mail). She called to report a glaring error that I had made. Just my luck! She's right. I made a major goof. OOPS! I'm sure it's not the only error. I'm a perfectionist, but I'm far from perfect. I'm fatally flawed, and you can quote me on that!

So, if you get a copy in the mail, see if you can catch my complete goober moment...or perhaps several of them. WAIT A MINUTE! Hold on! I take that back! I don't want to know if you find more than one error. I do have some semblance of pride here. So just let me know about one or less that you perhaps find... Anyway, the good news is that I can still revise it before I send out my newsletters to my email list, which means that I will only look like an idiot to half of my "subscribers." HA! Life is good!

[I'm using the term "subscribers" loosely here. AHEM! They aren't so much subscribers, if you will, as they are dear patient souls that tolerate my insanity and desire to communicate. You know who you are, and the management sincerely wishes to thank you!]

Well, a week from tomorrow and Christmas will be here. If you haven't finished up your shopping, you better get to it. Stay safe, All!

Too Much Reading Isn't Always a Good Thing

I was flipping through some old photos the other day of my parents' backyard, and suddenly I had a funny thought. In fact, I just burst out laughing thinking about it. I guess I'm nostalgic this month or something...

My sister Barbara, who is 2 years younger than yours truly, was my constant companion growing up. We were pretty much inseparable, and for the most part, we got along pretty well. We rode our bikes everywhere, explored the large drainage ditch next to our home, wrote stories, operated our own Krieger Hotel complete with a check-in ledger, managed our own drive-through restaurant in the back room, dressed up in old costumes, held club meetings with our neighbor Misty in the clubhouse above her Dad's shed, and played often with the kids in my Mom's daycare which she ran from within our home. Our summers were full of fun and adventure.

Well, I was a big reader at the time. I rode my bike 3 blocks to the library at least once a week and came back with a basket full every time. I regularly filling my head with imaginative stories especially mysteries like Trixie Belden, Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, etc. So I blame the following story on excessive reading in my impressionable years. AHEM!

Apparently, I got my sister and a couple of the little kids to go along with me on this project. We got some old shovels out of the garage and dug some gaping holes in the backyard. We then buried a couple of shoe boxes and played cemetery out there all afternoon. We used a few pieces of old paneling that my Dad had in the basement to make cemetery markers. We labeled them using a big black magic marker reading: "Here likes Jake Smith," etc. and then stuck those in the ground. OK, so it was a bit morbid, but we weren't concerned with that. We were having fun digging holes, burying boxes, attempting to fill the holes back in again and then marking each "grave" accordingly.

So just picture this scene with me, my Dad gets home from a long day of work and finds his lovely backyard lawn full of lumpy holes and dark paneling cemetery markers. Funny thing is that I don't remember much about the rest of the day. I remember the afternoon of mortuary fun, but after that, it's all kind of a blur. I'm sure I got a well-deserved spanking especially since I was the ring-leader and, and I probably lost my reading privileges for a week, which would have been sheer torture to me at the time. [sigh!]

See what too much reading can do to you? Be careful.

I'm A Potato Girl...

I've known this about myself for a while now, but it does feel good to get it off my chest and out in the open. Yes, I confess it with all my heart--I love potatoes. Potato salad, french fries, potato cakes, mashed or smashed potatoes, baked potatoes, potato wedges, cheesy potato casserole, augratin potatoes -- yeah, it's all good. I would be happy with potatoes for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Well, I could manage it, but it probably wouldn't be a good idea. [Disclaimer: the writer of said blog is not advocating a diet composed of potato products only. She is merely trying to illustrate her enjoyment of this marvelous vegetable. AHEM!]

Now I've always loved potatoes, but since going on Weight Watchers in April, I've become even more of a potato girl (if that is possible). A little bit (and I really do mean just a dollop) of low or fat-free sour cream, and I'm happy. YUM! They are so filling, and they just--well...they complete me. There I said it. WOW! It's a beautiful relationship between this girl and the potato. [sigh!]

While we're on the subject of potatoes, there was a bit of a debate at the dinner table on Thanksgiving Day regarding the sweet potato vs. the yam controversy. I know, it sounds like a rough conflict, right. Who knew? I certainly didn't, but my eyes have been opened, and I can't go back to the way things were before. Well, let me just share with you what I learned...

1. Yams and sweet potatoes are not even remotely the same thing. They aren't even related by marriage.

2. The Yam is a tuber of a tropical vine (Dioscorea batatas) and is generally sweeter than the sweet potato. This tuber can grow over seven feet in length, and is more popular in Latin America and Caribbean markets. WAIT! Did I just type that? SEVEN FEET? OK, it's official, I've never met a yam. I think I'd recall meeting a 7 foot potato, don't you?

3. Sweet Potatoes also hail from a tropical vine (Ipomoea batatas), but there the similarity ends, the experts tell us. (I'm trying not to take this too seriously, but doesn't it appear that the yam and the sweet potato have the same last name? Hmmmm...anyway, let me get back to my report on what I have learned.). Sweet potatoes are yellow or orange tubers that are elongated with ends that taper to a point. The most common variety has a thick, dark orange to reddish skin with a vivid orange sweet flesh and a moist texture. This is the vegetable that is often mistakenly called "yam" in error, and probably what most American households used in their marshmallow-laden concoction or nut-encrusted casserole on Thanksgiving Day.

So that was probably far more than you wanted to know, but there it is. And now for my final thoughts on the subject: Be careful with whom you debate this topic. You don't want to be drawn into this centuries long argument with those who have done some serious research on the matter. It's a slippery slope. DANGER! DANGER! You don't really care that a yam is not a sweet potato or vice versa. What you really want is to just get back to enjoying more of the orangish goop on your fork no matter what tuber it is derived from, but to those skilled in the art of the differences between yams and sweet potatoes, this is a serious consideration and needs to be discussed at length. To them, you are in need of some education on the subject whether you want it or not. Just trust me on this one, for your own sanity's sake, you want to steer clear of this argument!

This all begs the question: Would a yam by any other name taste as sweet? Hmmmm...hard to say. I can't speak for the yam since we've yet to meet, but I sure am a fan of the delicious and nutritious sweet potato. I love 'em, and I've been calling them yams for years, and they still taste the same now that I know their true identity.

This has been a vegetable moment with Mel. Tomorrow we will discuss the tomato. Is it a fruit, a vegetable or neither? Stay tuned.

But I Haven't Gotten There Yet...

Last night or rather in the wee early hours of this morning, I was wide awake and couldn't sleep, and so I hopped online, blogged a bit, read some other blogs, and did some random reading (i.e. I surfed A LOT). I came across this article, and it saddened me.

They just can't close down the Pyramids or the Taj Mahal. I haven't gotten there yet, and they are both on my list of places to see. And while I'm finally going international for the first time in 2009, I certainly cannot afford to do a world tour all at once (i.e. I'm a girl on a budget). Actually, it will probably take a good while for me to visit all of the places I aspire to, and since my list is all in my head really, maybe I should write it all down before my memory evaporates or gets put on the endangered list as well.

So in no certain order, here we go...

Egyptian Pyramids and the Valley of the Kings: I would love to see it without encountering ANY bugs, spiders or scorpions. AHEM! Yes, I'm basically wanting a bug-free experience in the land of the Nile. It could happen, right?

Taj Mahal: I really hope the builder of such a massive monument told his wife how much he loved her while she was alive and not tucked away in such an elaborate tomb, but nevertheless, I'd still like the tour.

My England (soon to be checked off my list WOOHOO!!): I'm really coming, dear friends [that's Jane Austen, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, William Shakespeare, Robert Browning, Charlotte Bronte--just to name a few]. Yes, I'm finally going to travel to the land of incredibly meaningful romantic poety and brilliant literature.

The Netherlands: My Mom's Dad is buried there in Margraten Cemetery. He was killed in action in World War II. I hope to travel there with my parents in the next 5 years or so.

Italy: I want to see Rome, Tuscany and Florence. Venice would be nice, too.

Austria: I want to tour the Von Trapp family home (or at least where they filmed The Sound of Music), and I desperately want to find a grassy hill with the Alps in the distance and gracefully twirl singing "The hills are alive with the sound of music with songs they have sung for a thousand years, ahhhhhhh..." You can picture it, right?

Germany, Spain, France, Poland, etc: OK, maybe I should look into a highlight tour? I'm starting to get carried away with Europe.

Israel: I want to visit the Dead See while there is still water in it. I want to tour old Jerusalem, take a boat ride out on the Sea of Galilee, and I'd like to visit Masada.

Disney World: OK, this might seem an odd choice given the rest of the locales on this list, but my family went to Disney World when I was 8, and I had the chicken pox the whole time. I hid my face behind a Mickey Mouse balloon for every photo, and I was miserable most of the day. I'd like a re-do, and I'd really like to go to Epcot Centre and see everything.

The US National Parks: I've been to a few, but I haven't been to Yellowstone or the Grand Canyon yet. I know, it's shocking... But I'd like to visit or re-visit all of the parks with fresh eyes (and a better camera) and admire the genius handiwork of our amazing CREATOR.

Savannah, GA: I really want to visit this charming Southern city, and actually I would like to visit each of the US States that I haven't been too yet...

And while we're at it, here is a list of places where I'd like to return for another visit...

New England: I want to go back as an adult and maybe (just maybe, mind you) try fish again. [GULP!] I'd love to drive along the coast or tour during the height of the fall colors.

Upper Peninsula of Michigan: I love the remoteness and unspoiled beauty of the natural landscape. I love walking through the parks, cruising by the Pictured Rocks, strolling along the sand and stony beaches, discovering the untamed beauty of the waterfalls...yeah, lots of good stuff up there. I heart my Michigan.

Prince Edward Island: It is so green and so beautiful...and then there is Gilbert. [sigh!]

The Smoky Mountains and Cades Cove: I love that area almost as much as my aunt who lives in Maryville. To me the Smokies never are the same twice, and I love that about them. Each visit is like the first time!

Casa Loma in Toronto, Ontario: This is probably (i.e. not officially documented in my biography) where I first fell in love with all things architecture at the ripe old age of 10. And since it's been almost 25 years since my last visit, I think I'm due for a reacquaintance encounter.

Biltmore Estate in Asheville, NC: OK, so I've already been there 4 times since 1996, and I may seem a bit obsessed with this grand estate. But hey, I get my fill of beauty, majestic peaks, art and fine furnishings along with amazing architecture and incredible views all in the same day. AND it's romantic [sigh!]...well, it is. Even if I've never been there under such a love-encased-fog, I can imagine that it is very romantic with the right person, can't I? See, it's got everything this girl needs. Well, almost...

Gettysburg and other Civil War areas: My family went on vacation to Gettysburg when I was in junior high, and I've longed to go back and see it again. It's my favorite war. WAIT! Are we supposed to have a favorite war? That seems a bit odd, doesn't it?

Washington, DC: I've been there a couple times, but it never gets old or less exciting. I love the monuments, the Capitol, the White House, Arlington National Cemetery, the cherry blossoms, the Smithsonian [BIG SIGH!], the bridges, the history, etc. It just amazes me.

Charleston, SC: I love visiting the old plantations along the Ashley River and touring the Southern homes along the Battery. It's like strolling back in time through history.

I feel like I'm forgetting several locations, but you get the idea. I am a bit ambitious in my list of future excursions, and I need to get these travels underway, preferably while these locales still exist. OK then, it's time to pack my bags...

Messiah: Handel's Genius

A few short hours ago, Becky and I went to a performance of Handel's Messiah featuring the Indianapolis Chamber Orchestra. It was an excellent performance, and the location was superb. It was held downtown at the Cathedral of Saints Peter and Paul. The acoustics were wonderful! I was enraptured.

My favorite part is Every Valley, which is close to the beginning. I think my Uncle Neal used to sing that aria in church, which is probably why it is so familiar to me. In fact, I can hear his voice in my head when I think of the lyrics to that song.

I am transfixed by the Hallelujah Chorus (of course), and I love that the audience still stands when it is performed just as tradition has it that King George II did when he first attended a performance. It is said that the king stood (and thus all his subject stood, too) in reverence of the song's tribute to THE KING OF KINGS and LORD OF LORDS. I like that tradition.

I also enjoy I Know That My Redeemer Liveth, and For Unto Us a Child Is Born. But really, it is all so good. Once again, I couldn't help but wonder if the choir and the orchestra realized of WHOM they were singing. And did the audience see it as a masterful work exhibiting Handel's genius? Or did they recognize their CREATOR being hailed as THE LAMB? Lots to think about...

It was a splendid evening, and I'm so glad I got to go. Yes, I must have really enjoyed the performance since I am still wide awake, and it's been 2 and a half hours since the performance. HA! I'm wired. (Or maybe it was the Diet Mountain Dew that I had at 4 PM earlier in the day...not my best move!)

Since moving to Indy in 2001, I really have been able to get a lot of culture in my life. It's amazing how many awesome opportunities for concerts, art, ballet, musicals, plays and other performances have come along and enriched my life these past 7 years. I am blessed. Thank you, LORD.

I Love My Parents!

Earlier this fall, my siblings and I learned that after February--even with a digital converter box--my parents would not be able to get the basic channels due to the digital signal line which comes in from Detroit. They were outside the cut-off line for the signal or something like that. So, my sister and her husband decided to look into other possibilities, mainly into cable.

Now those of you that have known me for a few years or more probably already know this, but my parents have never had cable TV. Growing up in Michigan, when we had a TV, it was a little black and white set that got the basic channels, PBS and a few Canadian stations. That was it. We got a color television and our first VCR when I was 16, as I recall. We had a large antennae next to the house complete with a rotor box next to the TV. I spent hours checking for all the available channels and labeling that rotor with the channel numbers so that we could get as many channels as possible. I guess it is no surprise that I got cable in my first apartment as soon as I could afford it. Hee hee! To me it was worth the $15 to have channels that came in nice and clear all the time, and I've had some form of cable ever since. OK, so it wouldn't be the end of the world to live without cable again, but it sure is a nice perk to have nowadays.

Anyway, after researching the cable options, my siblings and I talked it over and decided to get my parents signed up for basic cable television through Comcast and pay for their first year as our Christmas gift to them. My parents were pretty excited about the whole thing and eagerly awaited this "new" technology.

Well, earlier this week, my Mom and Dad called me to report back on the installation and their channel lineup...

"We have a C-S-P-A-N," my Mom said.

"Oh, C-SPAN. Cool," I replied.

"What is it?" my Mom asked.

"It's where you can see press briefings, Senate floor debates, interviews with policy makers and stuff like that. It can be rather informative," I told her.

"We also have TBN," my Dad added. "I think it's a Turner channel."

"Actually," I replied, trying not to giggle, "I think that is a religious channel, Dad."

"What is QVC all about?" my Mom asked.

"Oh, that's a bad one, Mom. It's a shopping channel," I laughed.

"We'll have to take that one off," my Dad said with a chuckle. They listed off the rest of the basic channel package, and they seemed really pleased with the selection.

"We even have a TV Guide channel, Mel," my Mom said. "I didn't even know there was such a thing."

After that, my Dad described how awesome their signal was. "There isn't any snow in the picture, Mel. It's amazing."

"That's great, Dad. Please tell me that you are going to get rid of the rotor now, right?" I asked.

"Yep. We already did," he said.

I've been up there around the holidays when my Dad and brothers have watched their football in the snow...and the snow I'm talking about wasn't on the field in Wisconsin, New England or North Carolina. It was just snowy picture reception and interference. They've never had consistent reception, and so I think they are still surprised at how the channels all come in so clearly and all without a rotor.

I could hear the excitement in my Mom's voice. She loves PBS and doesn't like to miss a good Masterpiece production. My Dad seemed thrilled with it, too. He loves catching This Old House or Yankee Workshop on PBS. Plus my Dad and Grandma watch the news a couple of times a day along with The Price is Right, Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. So I think it was a wise investment for them, and just listening to them the other night made it worth it to me.

I love my parents. I love them just the way they are. I wouldn't change a thing. I love their enthusiasm. It's contagious.

Ooh! That's Pretty!

I'm a girl. There I confessed it. I am. Can't deny it. Can't fight it off. It's just a fact. And as a girl, I like pretty things.

I like trinkets: you know little odds and ends to fill shelves, not to clutter it up. No. No. No. Things still have to be neat and tidy in Mel's world, and there can't be too much of a good thing--with the exception of books, which I feel you can NEVER have enough of.

I like jewelry even though I don't wear much of it. [sigh!] Unfortunately my skin reacts to most metals, and I only seem to get away with wearing pure platinum. I really can't afford platinum even though it works with my skin. Ironic, isn't it? I'm a would-be platinum girl living on a plastic budget (and I don't mean credit cards...we're not gonna do THAT again). Hmmmm...maybe I should look into plastic jewelry? I used to have a silly plastic charm necklace growing up that I'm sure would be super trendy these days. I wonder what happened to it?

I like art. Love it actually. I don't own a single piece of art unless you count the priceless crayon and marker drawings from my nieces and nephews. Those are treasures!

Basically, I love beauty--in collections, jewelry, art, nature, photography, people, etc. There is so much beauty out there. You just have to look. Open your eyes!

This week at work, a bunch of the admin staff have participated in a Secret Santa gift exchange. Each morning, I've come into the office to find a nicely wrapped present left for me by an elf, and it's been nice having a surprise to look forward to each day. It's fun to be spoiled even if it is just for a week. I've received 3 beautiful silver-accented ornaments for my Christmas tree (trinkets), a holiday snow globe (another trinket), and today, I got the Hungry Girl Cookbook (a book -- BIG Sigh!) that I have been dying to try. WOOHOO!

Today at our reveal party, I discovered who drew my name, and I was again impressed at how well my co-workers know me. They what I like. Those holiday ornaments are enchanting, and I can't wait to take them home and find the perfect spots on my tree to display them. (And yes, there is a perfect spot...) I'm excited about my snow globe, too. I don't believe a person can have too many of those either. HA! And I'm delighted to have my own copy of the Hungry Girl Cookbook with recipes like "Lord of the Onion Rings" and "Dan Good Chili." Hee hee! I love word plays. Yeah, this girl is happy today...

Enjoy your weekend everybody. Less than 2 weeks left to shop for Christmas.

Why Aren’t You Married Yet?

I found the Single newsletter article from Christianity Today interesting this week.

Yes, this dreaded question still does get asked of singletons. I don’t get asked about it as much as I used to, and when I think about THAT fact too long in a pensive moment or two, it starts to bother me...Do they not ask me about that stuff any more because they see me as a lost cause? Can they tell WHY I’m not married just by looking at me? Is it something they can share with me? Is it something I can fix?

But lately, it’s been my nieces and nephews that have asked the question, and I’m never quite sure what to say to them. I don’t want to sound bitter or angry, although I have felt those emotions in my single life. And yet I don’t want to give a trite answer or just say what I’m supposed to say either. I usually respond with something like, “Well, GOD hasn’t brought along the right man for Aunt Mel yet.” And then I add with a smile, “But hey, I’d appreciate it if you’d start praying for an uncle.” They always smile, nod their heads and give me a hug, and that does it for me...that just breaks my heart.

They don’t know how badly I want them to have an uncle. I can picture him playing games with them, laughing and having a good time.

They don’t know how I long to walk into a room and introduce this man to my family. I have imagined that scene in my head so many times. I can see the smile on my Mom’s face and in her eyes. She can’t hide her joy at all, and it will radiate from within.

They don’t know how I have these deep desires for something more. GOD and I talk about this almost daily.

They don’t know how lonely it gets sometimes. FATHER, I don’t think I can do another 34 years of this on my own. Help me!

Maybe it’s not healthy to think about these things, but honestly, it’s always there just under the surface, and so maybe hiding it or pretending that it isn’t there is NOT the answer either. I'm a romantic. I’ve been in love with love, ready to find a love of my own for as long as I can remember, and I don’t know how to change that, and I’m not sure I’m supposed to. It’s part of who I am.

I don't know how singles should answer questions about their marital status. What I do know is that I think we need to be more honest! We especially need to be honest with GOD about our desires, our struggles, our feelings. If you want it, say so. Don't pretend you don't care about it, but don't let it consume you either. I'm still trying to find and keep that balance in my life. Sometimes I'm all right with things, and sometimes, the scale is all out of whack again. But I know that GOD wants to hear from the real me, not the person I wish I was. Of all the people in my life, HE is the one I can be the most transparent with. HE knows me better than I do...

Just Toss It Here

I was at a beautiful wedding this past weekend. The bride was glamorous in her gorgeous white dress complete with a fur-trimmed cape, and the groom gazed at her with a radiant intensity. They were just adorable.

I was enjoying the day, catching up with old friends, eating carrot cake and savoring each rich bite, playing with my niece and nephew, snapping photos, etc. It was a really perfect day.

And then along came that dreaded moment that I always agonize over – the bouquet toss. The panic hit me. Where can I hide? Maybe they won’t see me? Will they notice if I head nonchalantly for the exit? WAIT! What did I do with my coat?

Then along came Angie (the bride’s sister-in-law), “Mel, you better get out there. Nick is looking for you.” Nick is the bride’s brother, whom I have known forever, and he was seriously going through the church trying to find me. I begged Angie to keep quiet about my whereabouts, and she honored my request, for which I am grateful. The bouquet was tossed, and the day went on without further opportunity for humiliation. Of course, Nick caught up with me later and gave me a hard time about it, but I was all right with that.

So why does this single girl hate the bouquet toss?

Maybe it’s the fact that I prefer to be at the back of a crowd and not in front of everyone. I’m kind of a wallflower unless I have to be otherwise. I like blending in and not being put on the spot or on display.

Maybe it’s the fact that I get to stand there in a huddle with girls half my age and younger. One time the bride turned to me and said, “It’s coming your way, Mel,” because she probably felt sorry for me battling it out for a bouquet with 10 year-olds.

Maybe because it’s just a stupid superstition thing anyway. If I believed in it desperately enough, I would just walk forward, force the bride to hand over the bouquet, and march off triumphantly. Hee hee! YEAH! I don’t think that’s gonna happen.

Cookie-Free Zone

Every year the legal department throws a BIG holiday luncheon pitch-in. We all sign up to bring in something to share, and we spend the afternoon eating goodies, nibbling on this and that and socializing with our co-workers and the visiting retirees. It is usually pretty fun, and the food is awesome.

However, while Diet Girl has managed to build up her resistance to donuts and her will power against pints of ice cream, she isn't a saint. If you put me in a room filled with delicate pastries, a Dairy Queen cake, cheesy potatoes, sourdough bread, a Hardee's Frisco Thickburger, and a nice garden salad...I'm not going to be craving the salad, believe me! Yes, I like salads, and I no longer drown them in dressing, but given the choice between healthy and calorie-laden, I'm gonna be bad. So to resist temptation, I just run the other way most of the time. I don't give myself the option to cheat.

So a fellow legal assistant and I have already worked out our plan for that day. We are going to sneak out on our lunch hour, enjoy a healthy meal at a local restaurant and then come back after our lunch break and join in the festivities and socialize with the rest of the gang. The party goes on until mid-afternoon anyway, and so we wouldn't be missing out on much at all. For us, it is our attempt to have the best of both worlds. Sounds like a great plan, right?

Well, then today we got an email from the planning committee about a holiday cookie exchange during the luncheon as well. Each person is being asked to bring a couple dozen homemade cookies to share, etc. I read that email and just starting laughing. I couldn't hold myself back. I said out loud: "Asking me to bring cookies is like asking a recovering alcoholic to bring the wine! NO WAY!" So I went and talked to my friend on the committee, and told her just that, and she laughed and totally understood. I'm all for sharing, but I don't have any business making cookies or having cookies in my house at all!

Other co-workers have different opinions...Just take a day off from your diet. Live a little and don't be so hard on yourself.

But I can't do that. I've lived for 34+ years -- all the while giving myself allowances, indulging bad eating habits, overeating, emotional eating, etc. And THAT is all part of how I got to a seriously unhealthy place. I have to be strong. I have to be disciplined. I have to live in a cookie-free zone. It's all for the best right now.

Sentimental Journey**

This is starting off to be quiet a sappy week. I just got an Amazon package in the mail and ripped into a CD I had purchased. Of course, I always have to read the “Thank Yous” from the artist first, and as I did, I started crying. Yes, picture me sitting here in my cubicle, eating my Lean Cuisine and sobbing over a short and sweet CD thank you list.

1. No, it wasn’t a thank you to me.
2. And no, I don’t always read them just because I’m expecting an artist to someday make such a public declaration to me...although that would be lovely. A bit random but wonderful just the same!

I was in tears because the artist (also known as Chris Rice) said the following thank you to:

"Elizabeth Barrett Browning for letting the words escape.”

[OK, this is sad. I’m tearing up again.]

Not all of you may know this, but Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote incredible poems of the Victorian Era. She had poor health most of her life and was confined to a bed for years, and yet her poems are filled with such passion, such vivid expressions of feeling and life. I'm a big fan.

Another writer of that time, Robert Browning, loved her work so much that he started corresponding with the authoress. They courted in secret due to the irrational views of her father, who basically disinherited his children one by one as they married. Eventually, the couple eloped and moved to Italy. I love that story. Elizabeth later wrote the Sonnets from the Portuguese and dedicated it her husband Robert Browning, and those are my favorites. Here is one of them, which is also one of the most famous, Sonnet 44...

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Isn't that just amazing?

So today as I was reading the CD insert, I was touched that there actually exists another man out there (besides Robert Browning) who loved her work. [sigh!] So touched that I started crying and then laughing about my tears.

Crying because I didn’t know that such a man existed.
Laughing because I turn to mush over one line.
Crying because I don’t know this man.
Laughing because I'm even thinking about this.
Crying because I feel pathetic.
Laughing because this is what hope looks like these days.

It's all good, Mel. Just breathe.

**I didn't dare listen to the CD at work. I was already a basketcase. So tonight, I listened on my laptop as I caught up with my emails and did some writing. And I was fine until track number 9 got me. TOTALLY got me sobbing. It (Let the Words Escape) was inspired by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. WOW! Good stuff for this obviously-sentimental-girl today. Thanks, Chris!

The Lion King

Yesterday, I got to see the Broadway production of The Lion King at the Murat with my co-worker Barb and her husband Lee. What a wonderful afternoon! The performance was wonderful, magical, amazing. The voices were delightful. The costumes were incredible. The choreography was breathtaking. I can't describe it adequately, and so I'm not even going to try.

The performance brought back a flood of memories for me--memories of my oldest nephew, Jordan. He is 14 and stands in at 6 feet tall now. I got to see him (or rather look up to him) on Saturday at a friend's wedding. But when he was quite young, I lived with his family, and so Auntie M spent a lot of time with Jordan (or Squdge as I called him then) and his older sister Janet (now 18). The Lion King was one of Jordan's favorite movies. We'd watch it again and again. We even named our family cats after the characters in the film. We had both a Simba and a Pumba for a while, I believe. Well, that was 12+ years ago, but it seems just like yesterday. [sigh!]

OK, this is a sentimental start to the week, isn't it? HA!

My advice: if you get a chance to see it, don't let it pass you by.

No More Wallowing Now, I Mean It

I confess, I’ve been less than my best the last couple of days. I’ve been grumpy, irritated, emotional and angry. It all started on Tuesday evening after finding that someone had committed a hit and run on my car. It really irked me, and it still does, but bitterness is never beautiful, as my friend Kristen says. So true!

Mel, it’s time to let it go.

I have so much to be thankful for:

1. The appraiser called and asked if he could meet me this morning instead of tomorrow because he was in the area, and so I am ahead of schedule. WOOHOO!!

2. I should get an estimate today or tomorrow for the damage, and I can plan from there. So far everyone I have talked to at the insurance company has been very attentive and helpful.

3. I have money in my England fund so I should be able to meet my deductible without a problem. I don’t like robbing from that fund to get this taken care of, but the money is available. GOD has provided in the past, and I believe HE will continue to do so. LORD, keep me trusting in YOU.

4. It doesn’t appear that there is any internal damage to my darling car, and so Maddy should only need some cosmetic attention--like plastic surgery for cars.

5. My car was parked at the time of the said incident, and I wasn’t in it. This could have been so much worse if I had been out on the road. No whiplash, no medical bills, etc. Thank you, LORD!

6. Hopefully the low-impact hit means that the other driver is not suffering any injuries either. I admit that I have pictured the “offender” languishing in pain or at least unable to get a good night’s sleep due to the guilt, but I’m not proud of those thoughts. It’s not what GOD wants me thinking about. Sorry, LORD!

7. My car still runs and is totally drivable. This single girl really depends on her car A LOT. So I’m especially glad of safe and reliable transportation today as the temperatures dip into the teens. Brrrrr... Thank you for a properly working car radiator, LORD!

8. Only 3 weeks until Christmas! Can you believe it? Hopefully Maddy will be able to get her repairs done before then, so that she and I can buzz up to Michigan for the holidays.

9. There are so many nearby that are experiencing greater trials and struggles right now. LORD, forgive me for being so needy and ungrateful when I should be reaching out to others instead of wallowing in self-pity over my car.

10. GOD does care about our lives...even these little inconveniences that pop up. HE is the ultimate healer and the best friend we could ask for. HE knows our weaknesses, HE knows our needs, and HE is with us every step of the journey.

Yes, GOD is good--ALL THE TIME! Even when we don’t feel like acknowledging it, even when life seems unfair, even though we don't deserve anything good, HE is good, and HIS love endures forever...

Revisiting the Crime

The latest news is that an insurance appraiser is coming out to meet me and survey the damage done to my beloved Madison on Friday. After that, I should be able to determine what course of action to take next. [sigh!]

It's not really all that bad.
I have lots to be thankful for.
I'm just not feeling up to it yet...

The Scene of the Crime

Last night, I headed out to my car after a long day at work. As I approached my midnight plum Honda Civic, I thought that the front bumper looked funny, and as I got closer, it became quite apparent that I had been hit by another vehicle.

I’m no mechanic, but I wanted to make sure my car was drivable, and so I checked things out more thoroughly. [Read: I just walked around my car a bit with a puzzled expression.] The left front bumper was cracked and had taken quite a crunch. But other than that, my car (Madison or Maddy for short) seemed fine. I got in, and she started right up. So I just sat there for a minute. I’ve never been hit before. I’ve never been in an accident period. What was I supposed to do? I tried calling 2 of my co-workers that I thought were still in the building, but no one answered, and so a bit flustered I started on my drive home.

As I was driving, I made a call to my sister’s house, and her husband answered and suggested that I call my insurance and office security. I called security first:

1. The plan is that Security will review the security camera footage from my parking lot and get back to me. Maybe just maybe the crime was captured on film.

2. I was told that I probably should call the police and get a police report.

3. I need to complete an incident report at the office.

When I got home, I called my insurance company. My first call for anything like this, but Melissa was very kind and patient and walked me right through the whole process. I was told that:

1. I didn’t have to call the police in this instance. Often the police will not write up a report for minor damage such as mine.

2. My policy won’t be adjusted simply because I have a claim. I would need to talk directly with my agent about my numbers if there is a payout made.

3. Photographs could be helpful. Naturally, I had already taken them. It was the first thing I did once I got home.

4. I would be contacted my someone in the claims department within 24 hours.

I got off the phone and started fixing myself dinner, but then the emotions and the drama swept over me:

1. STUPIDITY: How come I don’t know what to do in this situation? Why don’t they have pamphlets on this stuff like "What to do at the scene of a crime"? I feel like an idiot.

2. FRUSTRATION: I’m saving for my England trip, and I really don’t want to have to pay off some high deductible especially since I was completely not at fault here. Someone else hit my car, but I’m probably going to have to pay for the damages out of my own pocket. UGH! That's so annoying!

3. DISAPPOINTMENT: One of my co-workers that works in my building hit my car and didn’t even have the courtesy to leave a note. So now I know that I work with someone who doesn’t seem to care that they just banged up a fellow co-worker’s car. Someone doesn’t believe in taking personal responsibility for their actions.

4. SADNESS: My poor car! Madison has been a great car since I got her brand new in 2001, and I’m very sad that someone crunched her bumper and felt no guilt at doing so. That wasn't very nice at all.

5. ANGER: I wish I had seen the crime. I would have...well, I would have talked severely to them or at least glared at them and chased them down. Maybe I would have gone all Tae-Bo on them.

6. GRATITUDE: Well, I guess I should be glad that I wasn't in the car, LORD. I don't even have whiplash to complain about. I'm trying to take comfort in that. And maybe it's best that I don't know who did it. It annoys me, but knowing would probably irritate me more.

Thanks for watching out for me once again, LORD, and thank you that the damage to my car doesn't seem too bad.

Today I returned to the scene of the crime. We don’t have assigned parking, but I tend to park in the same general area every day. I pulled into a similar spot, but I backed up a bit leaving a LOT of room around me. I don’t want to take any chances. There is a criminal in our midst, you know. I'm considering starting my own internal investigation...checking out each and every vehicle in the lot this morning, hanging up some posters of my car's front bumper at each entry way with the caption "Did you do this or know who did?," etc. Hmmmmm...

We Gather Together...

I had a fabulous Thanksgiving. I spent the day with my sister and her family at her in-laws, who also had some friends over. The food was delicious, the conversation interesting, the entertainment (my Sister’s kids) whimsical, and the games new and challenging.

Yes, Diet Girl did have some pumpkin pie, lots of turkey and all the fixings, and so I was quite happy. Maybe a bit too happy...once you start down the road of extra calories, it is hard to get back on the straight and narrow again. GULP! But when I weighed in this morning, I had maintained last week’s weight. I’m content with that, believe me. I’m quite pleased that I didn't gain.

On Friday, I started off the day with Tae-Bo. My nephew Jacob (6) and my niece Grace (3) joined me for part of my workout. Jacob thought of it as a karate and did his kicks and added in some chops with the sound effects. Made me laugh! It was not my typical workout session. HA!

Later on Friday morning, I headed out shopping with my brother-in-law Jonathan. He and I both like Best Buy, and so we had fun checking out the sales there before heading to Sam’s Club. I came home empty-handed on that first trip. I didn’t find anything I couldn’t live without. After lunch, my sister and I headed out to visit a couple of stores on Black Friday as well. We went to one Kokomo consignment shop, and both found pants and tops. Ah sweet successs! Then we headed to JCPenneys for their sales. I lucked out and left with 7 new tops and sweaters for around $45. Then back at my sister's house, we decorated their Christmas tree. Grace and Jacob kept me in stitches with their Christmas-ornament-placement techniques. Grace was color-coordinating the balls. Reds all together, blues over here, greens down below, etc. Yeah, it was a really good day!

On Saturday, we made gingerbread cookie men, played a game, watched a movie and just hung out before I headed back to Indy. I love spending time with those little ones. There is never a dull moment at my sister’s house, that is for sure. I really enjoy hanging out with my sister and her husband, too. I wish they lived closer. I know I’m a bit of a recluse, and I sure do like my space, but sometimes my life is just a little bit too quiet.

Sunday I slept in (shame on me), but at least I missed the new members introduction at College Park. I confess that I really did not want to be up on that stage. I’m a behind-the- scenes-girl, and I don’t like being in front of people at all. Just not my thing. Anyway, when I did finally wake up, I got to witness Indianapolis’ first snowfall this season. It sure was pretty, but I’m ready for spring now. HA!

The Gift of Time

I love buying gifts for my 9 nieces and nephews, and then I get far too eager to see their little faces light up with surprise and joy at their stash. Actually, I’m usually the one begging for the kids’ right to open up a couple of gifts early on Christmas Eve. Come on.

Christmas is going to be different this year. My siblings and I have all agreed that we aren’t exchanging gifts this year, and we mean it this time. Normally we draw names or say that we’ll just buy for the kids, but somehow we all end up buying for everyone anyway. But, it’s a bit more serious than that right now, and Auntie M isn’t the only one feeling the economic crunch. Times are tight and budgets are stretched.

So, we’ll get together for a celebration without presents.
1. I hope we'll read the Christmas story aloud together.
2. I'm sure there will be plenty of munchies to enjoy all day.
3. Perhaps we’ll get a rousing 4-hour game of Monopoly going.
4. Maybe we’ll investigate the crime and follow each Clue to determine who killed Mr Body and was it the candlestick or the rope that Miss Scarlett used to kill him in the ballroom.
5. There also might be a stirring game of Uno with a twist.

Whatever we end up doing, it will be as always FUN and enjoyable, and we'll be together. I can't wait!