The Bittersweet Paradox

Thanks for this, Clint....

Seven things to do before I die:
--See ALL of Europe and most other countries on the planet
--get married and have a family
--live in victory through Christ
--raise all this darn money
--develop a habit of healthy living
--find a job I love and am called to
--live somewhere fabulous

Seven things I cannot do:
--detach my emotions
--be OK with eating broccoli or eggs
--be restless or unhappy with my state in life for too long
--go bunjee jumping
--not love Robin Eggs
--stop singing
--play sports involving a ball

Seven things I say most often:
--fabulous
--seriously
--I feel like...
--ok, ok, ok (when on the phone at work)
--riiight
--holy crap
--holy cow (when I don't want to come off quite as crass as the above saying)

Seven books I love:
--The Bible
--anything Beth Moore
--The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe
--anything The Chronicles of Narnia
--anything C.S. Lewis, for that matter
--anything Choose Your Own Adventure
--A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

Seven movies I’d watch over and over:
--You've Got Mail
--The Sound of Music
--Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
--The Matrix (only the first one, though)
--The Phantom of the Opera (only b/c you can't get the stage play in your living room)
--My Fair Lady
--Beauty and the Beast

Mini Robin Eggs.

Totally my favorite candy ever. And you can only get them at Easter. So, I've decided it's an all out Robin Eggs gorge fest until they have disappeared from the aisles of my friendly neighborhood WalMart.

This situation only leaves one choice for my menu options for the next couple weeks. Robin Eggs and lettuce.

Gotta make up for the extra calories somehow...

For those of you who have lived under a rock for the winter, we've had a few wild fires here in Oklahoma. A couple of weeks ago, I went on a little road trip with my mom to Dallas. Every 30 miles or so, massive patches of charred, black grass met I-35 as we travelled south. I've seen pictures of this for months now, but to see it evidenced in front of me served as interesting food for thought. This seemingly destructive force which volunteer firefighters from small rural towns have contended with all winter long leaves nothing but burnt-out wasteland in its wake, destroying cultivated farmland and wild prairie alike, devouring hundreds of acres of each at a time. All must be lost for the farmers who make their livelihood from this land, the same could be said for the tiny animals who survive largely unnoticed on these huge expanses of grassland. Yes, it would seem that all is lost.

But something more than the blackened stretches of earth caught my eye. Something wonderful. Like a gauzy tablecloth of spring green lace spread over an ebony table, sprinklings of pale green shoots of grass spread themselves across these ravaged stretches of wasteland.

To grant those who mourn in Zion,
Giving them a garland instead of ashes,
The oil of gladness instead of mourning,
The mantle of praise instead of a spirit of fainting.
So they will be called oaks of righteousness,
The planting of the LORD, that He may be glorified.

--Isaiah 61:3 (italics mine)

Life is hard. Satan, our own sin, difficult circumstances. All these can make us feel like vanquished grasslands after a wildfire. Ruined. Desolate. Without hope of redemption. But, take heart in this striking metaphor found in nature. God is in the business of redemption.

This is the six-week old bear cub I got to hold at work yesterday. Those are my hands.

Cool, no?

...curly. And recently, I've been letting it go free in it's wild, untamed form. To be honest, I don't really like it that well. It's a loose cannon. Sometimes it works; sometimes, it most definitely does not.

However, since letting my hair go wild, I've learned something new and interesting about the members of the male gender. They really like curly hair. No joke, just about every guy I know has commented on it in some way, some more suggestively than others. Imagine the title of the post said in a man-whoreish, husky tone of voice accompanied by a wink in my direction. That's an example of the treatment I've been getting lately.

It's a conundrum to me. I don't quite get it. So, I make a call to the males out there reading my blog. What's the dealio? Would you like to share why it is that you all find curly hair so fetching?...really, I'm curious.

You want me to trust a random unidentified email sent to my account?...no problem.
You want my debit card number?...you got it.
The security code and expiration date?...my pleasure.
The pin number to go along with them?...you can have that too.

Anything else for you today?

But, foul perpetrator of ignoble deeds, know this. I have no idea who you are, and have no way of finding out. I have reported your shady email to PayPal. Who's probably doing nothing. I cancelled my debit card, but you probably have dozens of other schmucks who fell for your little scam just as hard as I did, only without realizing it and cancelling theirs. I would bite my thumb in your general direction, if I had any idea what that direction were.

Bet you're shaking in your pile of illegally obtained credit card numbers.

...when my eyes are wide open. I'm a daydreamer. Always have been. Life gets boring?...escape to my own private fantasy world of imagination. It's a pretty satisfying little reprieve.

Just lately, though, I've had a pretty zany one. It's where Alex lives in a world of salaries and apartments and living in one place for more than a year at a time. Where she gets to decorate said apartment with trendy furniture and lovely accessories from places like this and this. A beautiful world, really. A land where she can afford clothes from places like this and this...oh, and don't forget this. A place where Alex would go to Pilates classes after work and go home to her fabulously decorated apartment where her Cavalier King Charles Spaniel named Daisy (or an equally adorable diminuitive name...like Peanut perhaps) greets her enthusiastically. She would also have *trumpet sounds from Heaven* a bed. Let me tell you about this bed worthy of a trumpet heralding it's mere mention. It would be queen in size. Along with a canopy made of materials washed in bold jeweled colors. It would have the fluffiest of down comforters with a duvet cover to compliment the canopy. There would also be a feather bed to cover the mattress along with a profusion of pillows. Long down ones to sleep on and many of the throw variety to make my eyes happy during the day (side note...in this world, I would actually make my bed, but only so I could enjoy it's fabulousness while it's made, not because I'm a neat freak or even remotely concerned with the clean state of my fantasty world). I would awaken my rug of perfection which has been under my bed for almost two years now (it's discontinued, so sadly there's no linkage for your viewing pleasure) and place it in its new home, my living room. Right next to the overstuffed arm chair of reading pleasures. I would cook gourmet, delectable, healthy fare in this utopia. I would shop for my groceries here...

I could go on, really I could...but I'm feeling a little shallow.

I haven't been productive lately. At all. At work, at home, or in the preparation for Chi-town. So, the time has come for obsessive list making. Perhaps that will motivate me.

On tonight's agenda:
1. Walk at the lake.
2. Barnes and Noble to read important stuff that's been piling up.
3. Practice piano.
4. Finish cleaning room.

We'll see how this goes...

Holy cow I'm getting excited...

Hello Chicago, indeed.