Taught my kid how to milk a cow yesterday. My bio mom called a few minutes ago and offered me $2000 CND to take a trip to Canada. Wondering if blueberries have enough fiber and anti-oxidants to make up for it's carb count.

What should I start with?

Comedian was doing dishes last night and filled a yellow kitchen glove with water. He asked me if I thought it looked like a cow. ("Well, not a COW...", I thought... but I knew what he was getting at, and I didn't know if I wanted the word "teats" in his vocabulary.) BUT... never missing a moment to teach my city-slicker kids ANYTHING about the country, I offered to teach him how to milk a cow... using the water and soap filled yellow glove. I had him hold the glove up. Explained how there were holes at the tips and that milk would come out if you squeezed from the top to the bottom... like so. I pumped the fingertips firmly from top to bottom and once I was sure he understood the technique, it was his turn. I held the glove up high, just in time for Derek to peer in from the living room. "Uh... what are you doing?" he inquired. "Teaching my son to milk a cow." I replied blandly. Puzzled and amused, he turned away, chalking it up to another Jennifer/Comedian moment.

I'll write my thoughts about the call from my bio mom when I return.

If I return. Hmmmmm?

-Jennifer-

My head is spinning. NO... not literally.

Ever know what is right... deep down inside, but doubt yourself so much... hesitate so much... that you end up looking like someone else?

Ugh.

Guess I have to explain, huh?

I am struggling with who I am. Can God really use me - just as I am? Not that I shouldn't try to become a better version of me... more like Christ... but does God use people like me? Do I fit in God's plan?

I am fly by the seat of my pants. And... I had never been apologetic about it until recently.

I had been a straight shooter... speaking what was on my mind ... until recently.

I am a creative, flighty soul... and had used it to God's glory... but now I hesitate. Second-guess. And I am paralyzed by my fear of failure... but not failure in God's eyes. Failure in THEIR eyes.

My wise husband reminded me the other day that I am supposed to compare myself to Christ... not to THEM. And he was right. I had been short-sighted.

Tonight I was ditched. It was an eight-grade moment returned upon me. Left alone, and clearly uninvited... I didn't know what to do. So... I left.

I used to be the life of the party! That's what's killing me! I used to take those kinds of people on, either by inviting myself in and making light of it... or asking what their problem was! But... tonight I wilted. Shrank away.

Have I been so far removed from God that I don't feel His presence, His reassurance? Am I so far from Him that I don't see my likeness? Does God not have a sense of humour? Was he not the life of the party? Was He not creative? Okay... so He wasn't flighty. I'll work on that.


I am struggling. I want to do what's right. But I want it to still be ME.

Know what I mean?

My mind has been set on smaller things. Not purposefully. Not intentionally. But, life's troubles have pervaded my thoughts. I have been spiritually groggy.
In the parable of the sower, Jesus tells us that some who recieve the "seed" will soon find it choked out by life's troubles, temptations and worries. "Seasoned" christians - if not aware can fin themselves in the same bind.
I have been overwhelmed at times in the past few months by life's troubles. Finances. Health. Education. Relationships. Has this worry rendered me ineffective?
Longing for something deeper, I seek outside fulfillment, not realizing that my answer lies within my responsive relationship to Christ. It's inside of me. May the Holy Spirit have two-fold power within me to wake me from my spiritual slumber! I am a heavy sleeper.
Perhaps the finances, health, education and relationships were the alarm clock, eh?
-Jennifer-

I'm sick. I'm wrapped in my new red fuzzy blanket and at my computer far too late at night. The rumbly in my tumbly is keeping me awake... and freaking my husband out.
Don't feel sorry for me, though. It was those darn sugar-free gummy bears. Oh, sure... they look harmless... I've had a run in with them before. No pun intended. Be right back...
Ugh.
So... this low carb diet has got to be done right or it will do you in. Apparently you can't wigg out on sugarfree stuff just like you couldn't pigg out on the sugar filled confectionaries. Sugar makes you fat... sugar free makes you bloated. Fat... bloated... I'd rather be bloated. Life's all about choices, right?
Weighed in and measured today. (Hence the sugar free gummy bears.) Lost a few pounds since the 1st of the year. Kewl. Wonder if I'll fit that gorgeous dress I bought come the end of May? Hm... sounds like a challenge.
Shhh... you hear that? That gurgle... that grumble? That's the sound of success! Argh.
Okay... 'nuf of the pity party.
Really... I had a good day. Ministered to a few women. Chatted with another few. Chilled with hubby and kids. Looking forward to a day of quiet tomorrow. Perhaps some art as the sun won't be out... beckoning me to bask in it's rays.
My January calendar is filling up... I just pray that it's filling with the plans that the Lord has laid out for me.
Must go to sleep.
Will write again when I feel better.

What am I, a squirrel? I'm munching on nuts and vegetables... ran out of ranch so the broccoli is unveiled.
Been keeping up with the weightloss, I'd lost 40 pounds by July, but have been off the wagon so to speak for the last 6 months and the weight is creeping back on.
I got rid of all of my "fat clothes", and I'll be darned if I'm going to buy new ones!
So... I haven't done a lick of exercise since New Year's... but I have watched my food and portions and lost 2 and 1/2 pounds. Yay. And... I actually enjoy the nuts... for now. Need some more ranch, though.
My husband runs the Parent's Night Out program at our church. The first Friday every month, parents from the community drop off their kids for $5 and can be gone for up to 5 hours. We feed the kids pizza and lemonaide, have a VBS disguised as a "fun night" followed by a G-Rated movie in the auditorium and voila! Parent's Night Out!

Breaking News! My six year old just joyously announced that he just made a fart sound with his armpit! He's been trying for weeks! Strangely enough he found a quarter in it... dunno where that came from. Armpit fairy?

Anyway... back to the Parent's Night Out. I had been volunteering as a teacher filling in when folks didn't show, and noticed that some parents would hang out for a bit before leaving and then come early and hang out before picking them up. So, I've set up a coffee shoppe. The last time we had it, I set up a fire pit outside with chairs and blankets surrounding it. Had white christmas lights in the trees and tables full of goodies, coffee, hot chocolate, chai, apple cider and much more. The ladies bring treats, and I provide the drinks and ambiance. And, wouldn't you know it? One of the families that warmed their hands at the fire with us now regularly attend services and preparing themselves for bible studies with Derek and me. God is good. And, I love chai.

So... I'm off today to find more goodies. Ran out of time to make the homemade scones and blueberry muffins... gonna have to hit Sam's Club. It'll be great once again! Oh! And... another parent called and asked to volunteer at the PNO Coffee Shoppe tonight... Sweeeet!

Gotta go check my teeth for broccoli bits and place this quarter in Zion's piggy bank.

It's madness! It's been less than 12 hours and I'm blogging again!

My husband and I shared some thoughts with eachother this morning over french toast and bacon. We discussed our "respons-ability" to change. We talked resolutions. He said that the reason many people fail at keeping resolutions is that they don't know who they are. We sometimes wrongly assume that we are a compilation of our habits... good or bad. But, we are not.
I feel like a thin, vibrant, lively person in a fat body. "It's not really me that I see in the mirror", I think regularly. But, who would know that but me?
I am organized.. really organized deep down inside. I love order and predictablity. But, most folks see me flying by the seat of my pants, winging it as I go.
I am an excellent teacher - not bragging - but I sometimes appear as though I am unprepared. Perhaps that speaks more to my procrastination habit.
So... keeping commitments to self - no matter how small - is the beginning of integrity. After we become accustomed to keeping personal commitments (ie: mind over mattress at 6:00am, having the guts to say no to fudge, hitting the sack before the lateshow, quieting critical voices inside my head, etc) then we can begin truly keeping commitments to those we are responsible for. And, from there... our character begins to develop. And the circle of influence gets just a big wider - as do our "respons-abilities".
There is so much more on this topic, but it was quite a revelation to me this morning that I am not the sum of my bad habits. Habits change. But, just as a rocket needs a tremendous amount of fuel to push itsself through the force of earth's gravity - we require accountability and encouragement to change our habits... thus changing our "respons-ability".
I have started a wellness program with a few neighbors. We'll call ourselves "The Sisterhood of Shrinking Pants"... We meet on Monday afternoons and workout together on Thursday nights.
I really need to get to doing what I am supposed to be doing. So I gotta run.
Talk atcha lata!

I've been avoiding the blog. Compelled to write, but uninspired. Know what I mean?

Christmas and New Year's have come and gone. It was wonderful the way fresh fudge is wonderful. The first bite... the excitement, the melting chocolate, the suprise in a soft crunch of walnut... When the Holiday Season approached, I was prepared. Music filled the house long before Thanksgiving. I began baking and decorating, shopping, preparing, inviting, writing.... but I was out of steam by the time Christmas rolled around. Overdosed. Overdosed on Christmas. Overdosed on fudge. If that's possible.

Ever write, delete, and rewrite? It's the deleted stuff you want to know, isn't it?

Joaquin Phoenix was in town today at Folsom Prison... Still haven't seen the movie. He creeps me out a bit. Coulda been his role in Gladiator. Loved that movie... but he gave me the jeebies.

Been playing Florence Nightingale around here. Three doses of medicine tonight to three kids, after a temperature taking and a trip to the doc's office for a physical. My munchekin took her shots like a big girl, so I wanted to treat her... but the sticker the doc offered didn't seem to suffice (it was, after all FOUR shots), and taking her out for sugar and fat laden icecream didn't seem a viable option either... so... I told my daughter we would go to the fanciest produce department in town and she could pick out any fruit she wanted. She went for it! She'd like a peach, please. The little one got one of those "sour apples" (granny smith). And, my oldest... the comedian plucked a huge pineapple and placed it in my cart... shrugged "what?".

Better go to bed.... morning will come long before i'm ready for it...

Ten fingered blogging...

If I could just slow my thoughts a little and write. If I could relate, inspire, produce, spark, infuse, saturate, haunt, re-live, re-love, amuse, distract, inquire, rant, rave.

My sweet husband isn't techno savvy. I asked him if he wanted to hear my blog. He wasn't sure.

"Will it smell?" he asked, using humour to cover his ignorance of all things technical. I explained to him what a blog was - he seemed bored.

"Who will read it?" He asked as though he were concerned that I would write all of our deepest darkest secrets here.

I explained.

"Hm. Okay, shoot."

His head turned to the book he was writing in. Knowing that the sound of my voice would soon be drowned out by the sound of his thoughts, I prepared to read my silly blog dramatically.
I read. My back was turned to him. I was lost in my own thoughts when I heard him "humph". I finished reading and turned back to him. His book was on his lap and his eyes were on me.

"I'm envious of the way you can put your thoughts on paper", he offered his praise. I corrected him - it wasn't paper... we teased eachother briefly.

Sometimes I fear that I might be forgettable. God says we are but a mist. A mist that is burned off in the welcomed morning sunlight. Is my life really that unimportant and yet so important that he would come rescue me over and over again? Living with that paradox is perplexing. If my life is just a mist, then I should live it up and fly by the seat of my pants, right? Or - do I buckle down and retrieve the lessons I've learned in my short life hoping that anyone who cares to read will find significance there - and infuse my life's lessons into their own. Is that how my life's mist will linger?

I'm curious about this blogging experience. Who reads blogs, anyway? What kind of a world do we live in when we can connect with perfect strangers - relate - and never meet? At least this side of heaven. Are the people who read blogs shallow, lonely, uninteresting? Am I?

I've taken the step to the techi-side. Just as the telephone didn't wipe out intimate communication in the home, blogging won't wipe out the need for tangible friendships and true connection.

My husband doesn't use the computer because he can only type with two fingers. It's Kharma... he can do almost everything else. I've stood and watched as he progressed with his Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing Lessons, but I just can't bear to watch him fuddle his way through it, maddenly frustrating.

I haven't settled my thoughts. They'll likely keep me awake for another hour. But, I must put an end to this day before this day puts and end to me.
-Jennifer-

Introspection... a good thing. Unless of course, like salt... you use too much...

The purpose of this blog is to give opportunity for you to see life's passing through my window. You may want to pull up a chair, or pull the shade. Your response is entirely up to you.

What makes my perspective unique? Well, each soul is unique, a special craft - fashioned by the almighty, created for a special purpose. My perspective - well... I must have a special room in God's mansion, for my perspective offers me views of live that are like no others.

I was born out of wedlock, a half breed to an addicted mother. There was no father. There were men.

I was adopted to a white family. An old fashioned mother, preacher father, and eleven siblings became my family when I was seven. I had already become worldwise. But, this new home offered a second chance at innocence.

I grew up with no televion in a generation that would be shaped by it. My shaping would have to come from somewhere else. Growing up in the forests of Northern Saskatchewan provided the perfect environment for the cleansing and preparing of a young soul. Many young souls.

I was seven when I moved from my biological family to my adoptive family. Seven years later, when I was only fourteen, I was ready to move out of my new home and into a boarding school that fostered my first attempts at independent spirituality. Seven more years, and I would find myself married with a child of my own. I hadn't been in an established home for a decade when I was creating a fledgling little family... a home of my very own. I would have a second, no... third chance at a parent/child relationship.

There was a time when I obsessed about my psychology. My make up. The mess up. The fix up. What a waste of time. My psyche didn't need fixing. Peddlers only offered excuses offered in pretty packages that promised so much more.

Introspection just pointed to where I was... but I am here. Where I was doesn't define me. Where I am and where I'm headed is all I need to know.

Don't be fooled by the peddlers. You don't do what you do because of the way you feel. You feel the way you feel because you do what you do. Chew on that.