April 25, 2012


I love how I am able to capture daily life so much more easily with Instagram. I am inspired to count the smallest blessings.

I'm working on a large and new project and would love some prayers to see this come together. If and when it does, I will share. It's entirely in God's hands and should mean more time to update the blog.

I didn't forget to show you new haircut pictures. They're still in the big and fancy camera. I've been so in love with Instagram that I haven't transferred images off of my big camera in a couple of weeks. So I recently had a photo shoot with very poor lighting just so that I could share it with you, finally.

Why is it that you can't say words like 'uterus' and 'fallopian' in some offices? Heck, to some people even, they are shockworthy. I realize it's not dinner conversation [table for 2 at Old Spaghetti Factory, circa 2001 with Lulu] but it's your body. Everyone's got one or seen one and all. So - a dude I work with just became a daddy. Each day I asked him how his wife's uterine child was. And there were gasps. Why is this weird? Mindy and I used to have very physiological discussions when we worked together and I assure you, we omitted anything sticky or untoward. "Has the baby dropped into her pelvis yet?" (Oh my, she said PELVIS.)  Miami, you're cuter than an interuterine. Still people gasp. And I have to tell you that once they gasp, I am then convinced that repetition is the way to make them more comfortable, and so I make an ass of myself. I'm not advising anyone to try this, but it's my method however accidental or on purpose. Today I brought two boiled eggs for breakfast. I peeled them in the kitchen, salted and peppered, and then carried them downstairs in a paper towel. When I arrived at my desk, my pal Steve observed the eggs with a concerned look upon his face. "What?" I asked, when he shook his head. "I just ovulated." There were little gasps. Hmpf. I thought it was funny.

Shoes has 3 days left before he must inform if he is going to take the children for the planned, 8-week summer visit. Please pray that everything works out the way God intends for that. All 3 of them want to see him and are very much looking forward to going. We're so happy for them to see their family - it's been since July! 

Somehow we scored a babysitter for both Friday and Saturday night this week. That NEVER happens, yo. Never. And I'm not wasting them either. We are planning a date on Friday night AND Saturday. Now ordinarily we wouldn't scoot two nights in a row, but again, NEVER WASTE A SITTER. It'll be another 3 months before we get one again. What to do... what to do... what to do...

I'd like to register a plea with the musicians that live in my iPod. Could you please tour in middle part of the United States at least once this year? Please? I mean, I realize we don't have the attractive nature of say, NYC or Detroit, but come on. Lots of music lovers live here. Pretty please?

One night recently my husband and I were talking about what we will be like in 40 years. I know, for example, that he will be crotchety sometimes. Grumpy until I elbow him and shake my boobs; then he smiles. I may have to swivel my hips to get the same effect when I'm 75, but nonetheless. Bryon said he knew I would have beautiful hair. Now, this causes me pause because I've always wondered what I would do once I begin to get gray. [Does a woman stop dying her hair and be skunky until it grows out? Does a woman have all of the color removed from her hair to reveal the gray? What's the secret, I need to know.] Despite all of this my husband says to me with a glimmer in his eyes, "Your hair will be silver. I know it; like Paula Deen's. Silver and stunning." Huh. I don't get it, but my liver spun a circle of love for him right then. Kinda don't care about getting old now.

What say you, Readers on the wide headband trend? My bloggie friend NatTheFatRat wears them constantly, as does Casey Wiegand and - well, if you follow me on Pinterest you already know I Pin gobs of their photos for inspiration. Time to try one out, I say!

Over this past weekend two of The Boys came to play with their families at our house. It was too windy for a fire so we grilled in the garage and chatted inside. At one point, Uncle Shannon had an elephant in his pants. And that was just as disturbing to say as it was to witness.

My iPod was found by #2. Thank you, Andy!
I made shrimp tacos again this week. If you like shrimp, I implore you to try them. The spicy and sweet, east meets west sauce is made from Ortega taco sauce, plum jelly, honey, garlic, lemon juice, ginger, cayenne, Tabasco, and black pepper. It is AH-mazing. Then we shred and dice any veggies we can find and load up whole grain tortillas. Yellow tomatoes, lettuce, avocado, and TONS of cilantro were in the frigo this week. This meal is quickly becoming a staple. Though I must confess to you that I need to continue practicing so that the sauce reduces a bit more before I add the shrimp. To that, our tummies say bring it.

Psalm 130:5 I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope.

I woke up wanting to go for a run this morning. In the blue fog of 5:45am with my husband in the shower (late for him), I let the laziness overcome me. And then when I got up and looked in the mirror at 6:15 (far too late to go), I kicked my own ass. I am so disappointed in myself for letting life prevent me from doing something I love, something that my body needs. First, it was too cold. Then, I was out of shape. Also, it is windy in Da Plains, yo. Now it's quickly going to get too hot. Come on, Rachel; this is horse shit. So for the rest of today the plan will include going for a quick run tonight when I get home. Hopefully husband is there and can join me. 

1 comment:

  1. I looooove this post! So strong and bright and colorful and hopeful! I love the love you share with your husband. I love your honesty. I love your big dreams and I am praying for you. I love your heart, oh wonderful of ladies :))))