Or, an alternate title could be "A blog post proving I'm *that* tired."
My youngest son and I left on Thursday for Portland, Maine. We drove through a snowstorm, and we got home late last night.
I am extremely overtired. Basically, everything is funny.
Earlier today, which should be spelt "tah-day", sorry...spleeled...oops. SPELLED....my friend and fellow Bookie Amanda Dykes wrote a post on her Facebook author page and hashtagged it #MondayBrain.
I was all, "Brian? Who is BRIAN?"
Amanda has a lovely blog. Visit her here:amandadykes.com
Anyway, I was tipping over in my hciar, laughing at my hilarity...whoops....CHair...and it rememinded me that I was sorta over tired from a weekend spent in Portland, Maine, for my (okay, and my husbandès too) youngest sonès...oops...French keyborad...key BOARD... in play...hold on...there we go...the kid's hockey...
Here's a few things I learned:
-driving in a snowstorm is rough. Scary rough. So its good to have chocolate hidden in your purse that there's NO WAY you're sharing with your 12 year old.
-a 5 hour trip took 7
-finding the STUPID hotel in the STUPID snowstorm is really nerve wracking and AHHHH! We finally found it. Right up the hill from....
-I love Chipotle ...and no, it's NOT "chip-ottle", it's "chip-ohh-tlay"
-I cannot stand the traffic patterns in and around Maine Mall Road in south Portland.
-Marden's had prom dresses on sale for 60$, I pondered buying one, because, heck, everyone needs a prom dress with giant, fake rhinestones on the, umm, "front". And yes, I did ask myself "Just how stupid will you look in this? Because you need to think about your assets and how freaky-bad that many rhinsetones will look across your upper hemisphere."
-sound that out, I said "rinse-tones"
-"If You're 51? Just Say No To Prom Dresses"
-when a lovely Acadienne friend says "...to 95" she actually meant "295". I take the full blame for the trip on the I-95 to a sweet little town called "Falmouth". And noooooooooo, NOT "Fall-mith" like we'd say up in my neck of the woods, but "FAHL-MOWTH" like the toll booth attendant practically spit at me whilst yelling those words in my face from 2 feet away.
-Monique Levert (Leh-Verrrrre) and I HOWLED with laughter at that...then I got us lost in FAHLMOWTH...which resulted in more laughter and then the recitation of the alphabet , in French. At least let's pretend that's what she was muttering as she looked out her window.
- *WE* did not give the opposing team's moms the evil eye during the final games, so that blond chick should have taken a moment and un-tangled her poor eyebrows and set them free. I love it when 5 foot tall fake blondes (or any fake colour) try to look intimidating. Umm, really? Glaring the stink eyes at the other team's parents? A team of 12 year olds, by the way. Children. So WHAT would possess a person to try to make the other mothers nervous? Like, what? Are YOU the team goon??? You gonna come at me? I dare you, I have a heavy purse and I know how to swing it! Besides, you just looked BEYOND lame, chickie.
-that game was NOT the Olympics, but we won anyway
-the drive home was fine, nary a snowflake anywhere...just the lovely moon and starts, instead.
I think I'm ready for bed...because my laptop is tilting over...or is it me?
I'll know in a second if I smack my nose on the floor.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Monday, February 9, 2015
The big kerfuffle right now in the mainstream media is about NBC anchor Brian Williams and his SLIGHT lack of accuracy in his personal experiences covering the war in Iraq.
Ever so slight.
By now, we all know the details.
Years and YEARS of lies.
Yes, he lied through his teeth, and by all accounts, he did so willingly.
But you know what?
I even joined in, and for a few minutes, took humour in the memes going around, until S. left a comment on M's Facebook page about the Holy Spirit.
BAM! That smacked me hard, right between my self-importance and my sense of perfection.
It brought back memories of the times when I screwed up, and royally so.
But for Brian Williams, well, how many MILLION people know what he did?
I cannot imagine the pain that his wife and kids have to endure.
In case you didn't know it, shame is a physically exhausting experience, and sadly, a shared experience. And it makes the ripples in a pond look like nothing.
The ripples of shame are like the aftershocks of an earthquake. Only, they blast harder, dig deeper and hurt for years after the actual event.
Shame shares its power. Even people with the same last name are going to get the "Hey, Williams, are you liar too?" treatment.
So, where do we come in?
As S. said, we pray for the man, and for his family. And we extend grace. Christ-followers NEED to be the ones who buy the guy a cup of coffee and ask him about the weather, and do so in love, because he knows what he did, and frankly, so does everyone else.
God knows. And thankfully, God's grace covers all sin.
Yes, ALL sin.
Including lying, cheating and embarrassing your family.
But before you say "Oohhh, come ON, the guy is a LIAR!", just be thankful WE don't have to suffer our own levels of judgement.
Just imagine the Father's heart when we fail. Does He put our sins on Twitter and give us a hashtag like #mykidsarelosers ?
And believe me, I am soooooooo thankful I am not measured for salvation by my actions!! Be thankful that God tosses our sins as far as the East is from the West.
As Mark Twain said "If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything."
So, pray for Brian Williams and his family. The man is hurting, his wife is hurting, his kids are hurting, all because of a "misremembrance".
Sunday, February 1, 2015
Sometimes, I just tilt my head and wonder, outloud, how some people come to certain conclusions.
Take this, for instance.
This is our actual address, and yes it's really in there, and has been for 19 years.
Now read the stuff on the yellow sticker.
Soooo, we're NOT here?
Or someone just didn't try.
Or care to try.
Or care to try and learn the truth.
Or, since the community mailbox IS ACROSS THE STREET FROM MY HOUSE???
And no one tried...maybe...
Dude, that's funny, and creepy.
And very sad.
Can you imagine knowing you are here, but no one sees you?
No one cares?
NO ONE thinks you matter?
And the ones who do see you?
The few who can change whether or not anyone else knows about you???
Lock you up and try to bury the key?
What do you mean "lock up?"
All over the world.
All the time.
And it happened in Arizona and New Mexico, back when they were territories.
It was brutal.
But now? Mostly forgotten.
Unless you're Navajo, or Apache.
Or a citizen of New Mexico, or Arizona.
Or you've been taught it in school.
Or a few other reasons...
Like, being a crazy white girl from Canada, and can't let it go.
Me and fellow trouble maker Ted Charles, retired teacher and life long Marine, Canyon de Chelly (d'shay)
I'm going to be blogging more on the 'why' of my work, and the 'who'...
But if you want to have a face to start your point of reference as to my drive to tell the story of The Long Walk, look no further at my dear friend Ted Charles.
What does Ted have to do with The Long Walk and the prison camp known as Hweeldi?
Ask his grandfather, Tsi'tnaginnie, who was a prisoner there, at Bosque Redondo.
As a child.
So, how do we counter that?
We already know.
He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.
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