And to all a good-night.

PS2 from ToysRUs: $130

HotShots Golf 4 from used video game store: $15

Gas for the RV to make it from MO to CA: to depressing to report

Watching my mom unwrap her favorite gift: priceless

Strike and Turkey

I had just finished reading Adam #1's blog about the writer's strike, which includes a fantastic video you should all check out, when the following conversation ensued:

R: I know smoking's bad and all, but some people just look cool with a cigarette hanging from their lips.
B: No way. No one looks cool.
R: Some do! Not everyone, just a select few. Like that hot guy off of CSI - he was just smoking in this video clip and he looked cool.
B: I don't agree.
R: Oh yeah? What about James Dean?
B: (silence)
R: (sitting smugly, having just proved a point)
B: Yeah, I guess....kind of like that one singer every one's crazy about right now.
R: (blank look)
B: You know, the bad boy one....
R: (confused look, racking my brain for singers who may smoke)....John Mayer?
B: No, not him! You know, the one who's dead...
R: (still confused) Johnny Cash?
B: (losing patience) No! The one you can never understand!
R: Bob Dylan?!
B: Yes! That one!
R: Yeah - not dead. Nice try, though.
B: Well, whatever...he looks cool with a cigarette.
R: Exactly.

Introducing...

...RILEY! And that's how you have to say her name - you shout it. Because she's pretty excited to be here. And about having a new friend. And about being a puppy. And about life. Yeah, she's pretty excited. We're dog sitting her for a friend over Christmas. Thus far she and Mia get along great, although I think Mia's worn out by all the playing. As am I. If a puppy is this hard, what must a baby be like?!

Christmas pest...er....pets.

Ben and I left town for 36 hours and returned to this:

This is the lone casualty:

We think these guys are going to make it:

Apparently while we were gone Alley Oop decided to climb the Christmas tree. And since she's put on a few pounds since coming to California....well....TIMBER. One might ask why we blame Ally. The answer's quite simple, really, as she was the only possibility. Once home I realized I had accidentally shut Dexter up in our bedroom. The poor fella had to go without food, water, and a litter box while we were gone. He ended up taking care of his business of Mia's ladybug costume. I'm glad to report we're getting things back in order and everyone is still alive and well. No need to call the Humane Society or anything. Really. Even after you see this picture:

Now, Mia LOVES Christmas and Starbucks.

Christmas with the folks....

Gwyn (my mom's friend): Do ya'll like eggnog?
Ben: I don't, but Robin might.
Me: I don't know...I tried a latte flavored with eggnog and it wasn't so great.
Mom: Well, I wouldn't think so! I like mine ice cold with some good rum in it!

Let the merry making begin!

Two weeks of school, one week of finals, 30 pages of final papers, 35 hours of grading papers and watching student video tapes, one mind numbing final exam, two Christmas parties, one surprise birthday party, one Lemon Warhead football party, one Lakers game, eight varieties of candy and cookies baked, assembled, and passed out to neighbors and friends, one taping of American Gladiators elimination round, and...I'm BACK!

And it just gets lower and lower...

I almost peed my pants when a friend sent this to me, so I thought I would pass the wonderfulness along:

http://www.elfyourself.com/?id=9589480368

A new low.

Today I got up early to start a paper five hours before it was due. I'm pretty sure I put the 'pro' in procrastination (and I totally stole that from this morning's comics). It's a good thing I only have three quarters left of classes because I'm kind of over this whole school thing. That's not true. I'm just over the whole papers, tests, and homework thing. Bleh.

Tag - I'm it!

I've been tagged!! The rules:

A. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning.

B. Each player lists 6 facts/habits about themselves.

C. At the end of the post, the player then tags 6 people and posts their names, then go to their blogs and leave them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.


1) I'm a house stalker. No, it's true. There's a house for sale a few blocks from us that is AMAZING. It's also 2.2 million dollars. So, obviously not in our budget. But that didn't stop Ben and me from going to the open house a couple of weekends ago. We learned all kinds of fun facts that I won't bore you with, but which effectively made me obsessed with the place. So, funny enough, I find myself walking by it for some reason or another almost every day, pretending that I'm coming home.


2) I wish I could dance like Ellen. Or at all. But I'm a hopeless case. I can remember Tara trying to teach me how to dance in the bathroom of our high school cafeteria. And I really haven't improved much since then. But Ellen. That girl has style.


3) For not having any kids and not being 100% confident I'll ever want any kids, I sure do have a lot of opinions about how to raise them. I was at the mall today (first mistake) and found myself feeling disgusted on multiple occasions by what I witnessed. Like a six year old drinking a frappaccino. Or a nine year old getting his hair dyed. Or the little girl with the Louis purse. Seriously. Why not take away what little childhood they have? Why not encourage kids to grow up too fast?


4) I'm embarrassed by the tv shows that suck me in. For instance, as I type this I am watching The Real Housewives of Orange County. It is simultaneously absurd and fascinating. I've also spent an entire Sunday watching an America's Next Top Model marathon. WHY?!!!


5) Ever since grad school began, I have all of a sudden developed an interest in keeping a cleaner house and cooking. Can we say 'procrastination'?


6) I'm fully aware that this next statement will cause many people in the Midwest to develop a sudden desire to spit on me: I'm sick of sun. Living in So Cal means I have essentially one forecast: sunny. Forever and always. Without a break. I find myself leaving the apartment to walk to class and this thought goes through my head: "Ugh. The sun is out AGAIN." I have never longed for rain or clouds so much in my life. And every now and then I get my wish. Like today. Today was delicious - perfect soup and sweater weather. Oh, to have a snow day again...


Okay, now on with the show! Rather than six people, I'm just going to have all my friends (all 7 of you!) blog...even if you already did the 100 things one a while back. So, Tiffany, Lauren (and/or Andrew), Darcy and Adam, Mary and Adam, and Liz - you're all it. And GO!

Ways in which I could spend $37...

- 10 autumn flavored lattes
- 1.5 pairs of Steve Madden shoes from Ross
- 37 songs off iTunes
- 3 chick lit books (okay, maybe two chick lit books and one that makes me think)
- a new haircut (with bangs!)
- Christmas stocking stuffers for the animals (or Ben)
- afternoon tea and raspberry champagne at the Scarlett Tea Room
- new ski boots off of Craigslist

Gee...I wonder what's missing from this list. Oh, I know! A bloody parking ticket, that's what!

Say Cheese!

Taking a lead from Darcy, I decided to share our picture slide show. We had some shots taken a few weeks ago by our friend, Mary. She's incredibly talented and we can't wait until the day she becomes rich and famous for her work so we can say we knew her when. Enjoy!

www.maryrosenbaum.com/blair

A Sad Realization

Momma was right about something: coffee DOES taste better when someone else makes it. And while that idea is shoddy support for having one's ten-year-old daughter make the coffee every day, it does serve to help one understand my latte a day habit. Which is really starting to impact the old pocketbook.

Common sense suggests that a simple solution would be to just buy cheaper coffee. But common sense, well, we've just really never seen eye to eye. For example, explain why I feel more guilty buying a $1.75 cup of joe compared to a $3 one. Easy: the cheaper coffee taste a lot like my own French press; the expensive one is a creation that far exceeds my homemade capacities. Thus, why would I spend even a little bit on something I can make myself? My tall carmel latte, on the other hand, is a treat. And I'm very good at finding reasons to treat myself these days. Here are the actual reasons by which I justified such frivolous purchases this week:

- Three WAIS tape viewings in a row? I totally deserve some caffeine.

- Being nurse, then student, then chauffeur, then wife, then TA, then student again in a matter of hours? Bring on the nectar of the gods!

- Attending my New Testament 2 class and actually paying some attention to the questions the idiots in my class asked? Gold star and a nice pick-me-up, thank you very much.

- Did you SEE that awesome parking job?! A two-point parallel masterpiece, it was. Let's celebrate at Coffee By The Books!

This last one was when it hit me that things may be getting out of hand. And I realized my TA paycheck is only serving to support my latte habit. That's depressing...on a number of levels.

I think I'm Old, Part Two

The other day I was driving down the freeway, just minding my own business, and listening to some music on a popular local radio station. It's the kind of station that makes me roll my eyes, yet sucks me in, just the same. You know - the kind that plays "hit" songs again and again and again until you want to slam your head against the steering wheel, but then what purpose would that really serve since you'd still have your ears and the misery would just continue? Side note: Hey There Delilah will always and forever be the perfect song to sing along with, no matter how many times it is played.

As I was saying...I was cruising along when the most disgusting, vulgar sound began emitting from my speakers. It was akin to nails on a chalkboard, yet oddly familiar. What the...? NO...it couldn't be! Someone has massacred a classic! I was listening to a rendition of Mrs. Robinson by (I think) the Lemonheads (a name no less disturbing because of its similarity to my beloved Lemon Warheads). Anyway, they didn't even have the decency to make it their own - the just added more beats and called it good. Sigh. Shouldn't some things just be off limits? Paul and Art, you deserve better.

Which brings me to my point. I think my music tastes make me old. In fact, there was a time in junior high/high school when I was certain I was born in the wrong decade. When all of my friends were enjoying boy bands, I was delighting in the Beatles. When Brittany was hot (think hard, you can remember those days), I was listening to Peter, Paul, and Mary, Bob Dylan, and my mom's ABBA records. Needless to say, I was not the cool girl. I still feel lame when friends break out into an Insinc tune. But I can belt it out with the best of them if you break out the Eagles or CCR.

But times, they are a changin' and I feel I am in the midst of a (contemporary!) music period that is blowing my mind. There are so many talented artists I've been exposed to of late - I can't get enough! When LA is really on my last nerve, I just have to remind myself of all the amazing venues within a short metro ride and I am happy once again. Then I turn on the radio and my heart leaps for joy when they announce it's 90's at noon on KROQ. A flood of memories wash over me, as only songs from the past can cause, and then it hits me. Crap. All these songs are 10-15 years old. Wow.

One last thing - we just watched Reign Over Me this weekend and I was touched. Great story, great cast, and...you guessed it...great music. And man oh man! What a depiction of how we use music as an escape, for good or bad. You should check it out.

Can't Keep a Good Man Down

I'm happy to report that Ben has made it through the surgery. We were up before 5 this morning and we finally made it home around 1:30 pm. The actual surgery was between 7:45 and 10:45, during which I drove from Burbank to Pasadena so I could get groceries, walk the dog, and attend the weekly training at my practicum site. Oh, and write a paper that was due today.

Welcome to my coping mechanisms: denial and distraction.

Seriously, though, Ben's doing really well. The worst bit so far is his sleepiness. Which really, is neither "worst" or "bit" - he' slept most of the day and who wouldn't want that?! His pain is being thoroughly managed through a pain pump implanted in his shoulder that gives him a constant supply of morphine. Then he has this nifty electric cooler/water system that constantly circulates cold water through a compress strapped around his shoulder. He'll use these two gadgets for the next few days until he goes back to see his doctor on Monday, at which time the pain pump will be removed and ... well, I don't know what else.

I'm not going to lie - I've been a bit nervous about this whole "surgery and out of commission for six weeks" plan. Here's the thing - I'm a pretty independent person. And I proudly and stubbornly held onto that identity when I got married...which wasn't the best move on my part. (I.E. Having an attitude of, "Back off, bucko, I can handle this on my own," isn't too conducive for a relationship.) So, I've been learning to rely on Ben more, much to my chagrin. Because look how that's worked out for me: now I panic at the thought of not having his help in our day to day lives. You mean I have to walk Mia every morning when she wakes up at 6:30?! And I have to unload all the groceries by myself?! And when I have 30 papers to grade and 2 of my own to write tonight before my prayer group comes over, I also have to sweep the house and put away the dishes? Wow. Life all of a sudden got much more overwhelming.

But at least he's okay and this isn't a forever plan. And that's a good thing. Because I am SO not cut out to be a nurse.

On a more serious note...

Church was very thought provoking today and reminded me of a conversation that I had with a friend from back home a few weeks ago. Her Bible study group had just started reading Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell and she was telling me what she thought of it so far. After listening for a few minutes, it became apparent that we were of two very different minds about the book and I realized, once again, just how much I've changed since coming to Fuller two years ago. Our conversation soon focused on the topic of the emerging church and I did a poor job of explaining just what I thought about it all, tripping and stumbling over my words. I'm the first to admit that theology is not my strong point and that much of what I hear in class goes over my head (but B's get degrees, right?!). Yet, at the same time, even if I can't fully explain the transformation that has taken place in my mind and heart, I also can't deny the fact that it somehow feels true and right. Amazing debating skills, I know.

My friend had really good questions that challenged me, questions that I don't have any answers to. But I think that's part of my process - being okay with not knowing. Through Bell's book and others (Blue Like Jazz, Inside Out, and anything by Anne Lamott), I'm struck, again and again, with the realization of God's grace. As someone who has felt guilty for one thing or another pretty much every day of her life, I cannot tell you how freeing this is. And that's what I was reminded of again at church today as we started a series on Galatians. It's about Jesus. Period. Jesus plus nothing. I've spent a lot of years adding things to Jesus, a lot of years with a legalistic mindset and a huge list of what I have to do in order to be a good Christian. And I'm tired. I'm tired of always falling short and heaping guilt and shame upon myself that God never meant for me to experience. I'm ready to see myself as a child of God and really believe it. And rest in it.

And because this blog is way more serious than my normal ones, I better go ahead and share the rest of my heavy heart, or at least the pieces of it that are left over from it being broken again and again as of late. Ever since Cambodia, God's opened my eyes up to a lot of suffering. I'm finding opportunity after opportunity to learn more about injustice, whether it be child soldiers, trafficking, homosexuality, or through the stories of my clients. I feel like everywhere I turn God is prompting me. I just don't know what He's prompting me to do. Do I get involved with this organization or that? Do I focus my trauma research on sexual trauma or AIDS in Africa? Do I take further classes in SIS to learn more about international needs or do I focus locally? All I know for sure is that I'm supposed to do something that I never thought I'd even consider before. And it's rocking my world.

After this recent two-week intensive, I'm overwhelmed - physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I didn't realize how much until I went to a play last night called Butterflies of Uganda, which depicted a true story of a girl-child soldier. I was so raw from everything leading up to that night that it didn't take long for the tears to start falling. And they kept coming. It was as though I could no longer keep it all in - all my questions of direction, of pain, and of theodicy. We talk a lot about containment in therapy - how we help hold our clients pain and suffering. When we do that, we take on that suffering, too. And as I'm learning to do that for my clients and as I'm exposed to more and more themes of justice, I'm finding that it's hard to hold it all. I can't do it alone. Community helps. So does creativity and exercise. And apparently becoming a blubbering mess at a theater helps, too. Fair warning to those who sit next to me.

Almost Accidental Carjacking

Dear Sir,
Please accept my apologies for scaring the bejesus out of you when I mistook you for my husband. See, I had just finished therapy after a long ten-hour day, and if you know anything about this therapy business, you know I was a bit discombobulated. So, when I saw your Pilot out of the corner of my eye while walking home tonight, I thought, "Surely that's not Ben - he couldn't have finished laundry that quick!" But then I heard you honk and thought I had underestimated my husband's ability to speed launder. Now I realize that honk was a "Please move out of my driveway" honk, not a "Hey, it's me - get in" honk that I mistook it for. So, really, you can hardly blame me when I walked around to the passenger side door and tried to open it. Now, you might have reason to blame when I tried to open the door a second time, after you had locked it and moved the car forward a few feet. But you can just blame my husband for that one, too - he's always pulling that crap on me. Anyway, I hope you noticed that I at least had the decency to blush when I realized you were, indeed, not my husband, and how quickly I backed away from the car after that.
In closing, I hope you agree that all's well that ends well and hold no offense.
Sincerely,
Robin Blair
PS If you stop honking at strangers you might be able to avoid this situation in the future.

I'm officially That Girl.

The one who dresses up her animals. This is Mia's Halloween costume - can't you just FEEL her excitement?!

Ben found a camera on the side of the street a few weeks ago and when no one responded to the sign we posted, we decided it was a gift from God and have been having fun with it ever since. It's amazing - quick like lightening! And it's a Cannon Elph, so I'm still loyal to my brand. Ben has claimed it since the Rebel is mine, but...we'll see who ends up taking more pictures with it. Here's what we took while playing with it tonight. Ben got tired of playing way before I did.

























Smoochable Dexter & Ladybug Mia




Bad-Mood Husband

High/Low

High: Finishing the first week of a two-week intensive that has made life slightly hellish. Making new friends in said class, including one with an adorable Southern accent that reminds me of how I used to think I was going to marry a cowboy some day.


Low: One more hard week ahead of hard topics like sex trafficking, child soldiers, and street kids.


High: Farring a lot better at football today - just a jammed finger. And witnessing, quite possibly, the funniest play ever. Long story short, it involved an illegal (but totally understandable) forward pass that had me rolling on the ground in giggles and thinking back to a junior high PE class in which I ran the wrong way while playing flag football. Hey - next time you have a bunch of hormonal preteens running straight at you, see what your instinct is. That's what I thought.

Low: As a whole, our team sucking air. We simply could not get our act together and now have a record of 1-1. Oh well - there's always next week.

High: Art Night. We didn't exactly see any art this go-around, but did enjoy digging through the library's book sale and listening to fantastic jazz. I'm not cool enough to be really into art, anyway, so the fact that the evening centered on two of my favorite things, books and music, made me want to skip. But the boots I had on were definitely not skip-friendly.

Low: Waiting for over an hour at a hot sushi place for dinner prior to Art Night. We ended up skipping out so we could catch some of the attractions of the evening and finally ate around 10:30 at Rubio's. Glamorous, no?


High: Playing darts in the back room of the jazz club.




Low: Realizing I'm equally as talented at using both my right and left hand when throwing darts, which is to say, not at all. Here's my favorite shot of the night:




High: Listening to George Strait's greatest hits while baking pumpkin bread and doing dishes today. There's just something about country music from the 80's that makes me smile.

Low: Listening to country music from the 80's also makes me long for a house with lots of land, animals, and books in a library equipped with a rolling ladder. And that's not going to happen for awhile. And sometimes I feel like I can't take one more minute of life in LA, but I need to be able to take a lot more minutes of this chaos.

High: Oktoberfest at the Miller's tonight. Good food, good spirits, apple bobbing, pumpkin carving, and taboo. Sometimes I really, really love this life in LA. I've got a feeling it has nothing to do with the city, and everything to do with the people who are in it.

I think I'm old.

And it has nothing to do with the recent birthday. I spent all last week falling asleep with an ice pack on my left quad. And I've been in bed all day today with a heating pad on my neck. I think I have whiplash. Or at least, I'm experiencing what I think whiplash would feel like.

I knew yesterday that today was going to be bad, since even coming home from the game I felt discomfort in carrying on a conversation with Nathan, whom was sitting to my right, requiring a turn of the head to provide proper eye contact and other friendly non-verbals. Then as the day wore on and I found myself making a side dish for the quarterly dinner with my advisor, I thought to myself, "This is not good." [The neck, not the dish, mind you.] At said quarterly dinner I experienced the normal slow and painful death of interacting with socially awkward individuals and listening to repeated stories, I thought to myself, "This night is worse than usual and I think I'm done." So, I made an early exit and got home in time to see the ending of a pretty intense game of darts amongst a fog of cigar smoke before I passed out on the couch out of sheer exhaustion. I woke an half an hour later so we could meet up with friends at Margarita Joe's or Rose or something and found that I should ALWAYS go to this Margarita mecca after game days because by the time we left, I was feeling no pain.

And then I woke up this morning.

Where's the love?

That's all I'm asking.


Football and sports in general are on my mind right now. Children at risk should be on my mind, since I need to write a paper for class on Monday. But I need to get pigskins and pendants out of my system before I can focus on trafficking and labor laws. And why is it in my system? A few reasons: today we had the first official flag football game (I may or may not have a concussion - another blog for another day), my television is locked in on college football all day today as it is every Saturday, and I just read Adam #2's blog.


From conversations I've had with other sports fans, I realize that the hatred Adam speaks of is not uncommon. But I just don't get it. How can one hate an entire TEAM? A team made up of people that change every year, people whom you've most likely never met. It just doesn't make sense to me. So I decided to use my best therapeutic skills and get to the root of all this madness. I know Ben's favorite team to hate is Notre Dame, but I wasn't sure why until I asked him 5 minutes ago. And after refusing to speak to me because he hates being blogged about, he finally opened up the floodgates and in a matter of seconds was spewing: because they "always get all the breaks and get to have a tv contract even when they're crap like now. They haven't won a single game yet! And they don't have to play in a conference, so their schedule is easier and..." He went on and on. And on. I stopped listening after awhile.


I guess I got an answer. But I'm still confused - why does all that matter? I think I have to really love a team in order to really hate another. That must be the secret. And even though I married into a family of Nebraska freaks, I'm still just a fair weather fan. So the fact that Notre Dame "gets all the breaks" really doesn't hurt my feelings. And I'm okay with that.

Good Manners

Wednesday night we went to Fuller's School of Psychology annual welcome back picnic and brought Mia along for the fun. There were a handful of kids running around the park and one little girl who looked to be about two years old took great interest in Mia. She was getting ready to pet her when her mom said, "Sweetie, you need to ask permission first." So, obediently, the little girl crouched down, hands on her knees, until she was nose to nose with Mia and sweetly said, "PLEASE!" Mia wagged her tail: Permission granted.

Home again, home again, hidly ho!

Ben and I got back on Monday after a whirlwind trip home. Maybe that phrase is redundant - it seems like all of our trips home are whirlwinds. We had a wonderful time, just the same, though. Ben met our new nieces for the first time and we both met some of our friends' babies, too. I'm telling you - people are having babies like it's their job back home! There were almost more kids than adults at my birthday party! After a long weekend of sloppy kisses, big bear hugs, baby talk, and spit up, Ben and I decided that we really love this Aunt and Uncle business. But the parent thing is a long way off. A REALLY long way.

It was bittersweet to be home. I think because it's not home anymore. Or at least, not the home we once had, which is to be expected. Life moves on without us there, as it should. I missed out on a party and a few other things happening here while we were in MO and I realized that we really have made a life out here in California. That's really weird to me, but I suppose that means we've succeeded so far in this whole "adult" thing. And it's not often that I feel that way. While we were in MO I had a few conversation with friends during which I thought, "Are we really talking about this? Is this really my life? Shouldn't we be giggling about boys or complaining about homework?" Sometimes being an adult is complicated. What am I saying? Being an adult is almost always complicated!


My birthday month has been one of the best so far. The party at Mike and tif's was fabulous and I was really touched by the turnout. It's a nice feeling - that of being loved and all. And I got to spend time with some of my most favorite people in the entire world: my family, Christy and her clan, Keri, and Kim. And I still have one more party to look forward to! Plus, Jake and Jason come into town tomorrow for a short visit. We've got a Damien Rice concert and Hotel Cafe lined up, but no Jimmy Kimmel because apparently Barry Manilow has a huge following and Friday's green room has been booked for ages. Who knew?!


Anyway, anticipation for things to come is so much fun! I feel incredibly blessed today as I start off my 26th year. Ben walked Mia this morning so I could sleep in, then woke me up with breakfast and coffee from one of my favorite coffee shops. It was so cute - he had it all spread out on the kitchen table, with lots of candy and gum surrounding it, along with the sweetest card. What a guy! My cup runneth over.

Grandpa Bill and Avyn.

Bocce ballers.

Jake and Ben - can't you just picture them in the same pose twenty years ago?

Just like Paris Hilton!

I had just sent out invitations last night for the birthday party I'm going to have in Missouri in a couple of weeks and was designing the invites for the party I'll have here in three weeks when it occurred to me, "I'm having birthday parties in two different time zones!" I think that means I'm cool. Or spoiled.

And while we're on the subject of birthdays, my first gift came in the mail today. So, according to the Blair rules, my birthday has officially started. Sweet! I've got a feeling this 26th year is going to be a good one.

It's kind of a funny story now. Kind of.

Ben told me last night that his co-worker is going to give him his old bike. My husband is king of getting free stuff from people. Up until this past Christmas we had been using a grill that someone was going to throw away before Ben offered to take it off his hands. There was no temp control, only off and on, and the glass window on the lid was busted. But if you could get past all that and the singed arm hair from lighting the thing, it was really a fine grill.

Anyway, this new addition will be the first time there's been a bike in the Blair household in over a year. We had two when we moved here two years ago. They were our first big purchase together, made before we even got married. They were a couple of Schwinn's that we got a good deal on because the sales woman thought we were a cute couple. This was before Schwinn sold its soul to Wal-Mart and started making low-end bikes. Within the first few months of us moving to Pasadena, Ben's bike got stolen from our apartment complex. We hadn't bought u-locks yet, so it was kind of our own fault. Pasadena's known for its underground bike theft ring. But I have to ask - who's heart is so hardened that they would steal a bike with a bell that said "I heart my bike" on it?

Then there was one.

While getting my teeth checked out on Tuesday, the dentist asked if I had been in an accident and suffered any blunt trauma to the head because I had a chipped tooth that indicated as much. As a matter of fact, I had! There was this incident about a year ago when the other bike got totalled. It's been a year since the accident. A year since I was determined to be 100% at fault for getting hit by a car. A year since I ruined my laptop and had to buy a new one. A year since the police report screwed me over and made it impossible for me to get reimbursed for anything. I'm still going to contest the report and possibly take the nice man in the BMW to court, but I've got too much on my plate to really tackle that right now. But I will. If nothing else but for the principle of the matter. I am a woman of principles, after all. And although it was foolish of me to think I should go through the intersection just as the light turned yellow, I'm pretty sure one is not supposed to proceed through an intersection unless it's clear. Clear of, say, a young woman biking to school.

So, then there were none. But in memory of that shiny yellow bike and the crash we both suffered from, I thought I'd post some pictures of the aftermath of the accident. They're kind of graphic, but I think you can handle it, Internet. Yay for not dying!

It's the cheesiest!

For the first year of our marriage Ben and I were both students and working part-time. Thus, we were always low on cash. (But high on love!) Our monthly budget was $1000, which now seems impossible but back then just meant that we had to be creative. This is where my love for coupons and deal-finding was born. If you don't know me that well you might not realize how serious this love is. I have yet to find a drawing or survey that I will not enter (I have also yet to win any of those drawings - but my time's coming, baby!), and every Sunday you can find me gleefully flipping through the coupon circulars. A friend introduced me to couponmom.com a few months ago and this site has only served to increase my obsession. You can look up your local grocery stores and find out which products are on sale and have a coupon - I just bought deodorant for 50 cents! Can you feel that?! That's the thrill of victory!

Anyway, the point of this post is not to celebrate my coupon clipping abilities, but to give a nod to that old faithful standby Ben and I ingested on a weekly basis in that first year of our marriage. Yes, folks, I'm talking about Mac&Cheese. This was a staple in our diet back then, beginning on our honeymoon when we packed some boxes in our suite case (we spent all of our money getting to Maui and had very little left over for food!). But since we moved out to California two years ago, it has been, more often than not, missing from our cupboards. There's a couple of reasons for this: 1) more money = better planned dinners and 2) have you seen the price of Mac&Cheese out here?! It's a matter of principle (!) that I refuse to spend $1 on a box of Kraft dinner. Highway robbery, I tell you!

Yet, there have been multiple nights these last few weeks that both Ben and I have craved that processed cheese meal. So, finally on Saturday we drove down to Sam's and bought two huge crates of Mac&Cheese to satiate that desire. And in the last 36 hours it's been our one-dish meal twice. I know, I know - it's not exactly a balanced meal. But keep your nutrition values to yourself! I'm reminiscing. Ahhh...reminds me of those good old days.

The Bourne Ultimatum is not for newborns...

... in case you were wondering.

Ben and I caught up with Jason's latest shenanigans last night and we were not disappointed. Dizzy, perhaps, but not disappointed. I think they used magic to film certain scenes because I cannot imagine how else they got some of those camera angles or produced such quick cuts. But, since I haven't the foggiest idea of how to make a movie, period, they're all a bit magical to me. However, here's something that isn't so magical - bringing your baby (and by this I mean any child that can tell you how old s/he is with one hand) with you to an 11 0'clock show, and a pretty violent show at that. What are you people thinking?! Are you trying to provide me job security, because you're doing a pretty bang-up job of that. I'll probably see this kid in therapy in a few years. What business does a toddler have at a movie like this? Better yet, what business do you have being a parent if this is a viable option for kiddy entertainment? Seriously!

Okay. Rant over. Maybe it's because I just spent the last two weeks learning about abuse and addiction and I'm a bit sensitive to the topic. Maybe it's because I'm reminded of the girls at Rapha House who don't even have a choice but to be subjugated to such violence. Maybe I'm avoiding writing the first of my five final papers. Or maybe I'm just grumpy.

Oh, to be eleven again...

A conversation with my little cousin:

Me: So, do you miss public school at all?

Blair: No way! Did you know in public school people start dating when they're Abbey's age?! [Abbey is her 7-year-old cousin.]

Me: You're kidding!

Blair: No! But McKenzie and I spitswore that we wouldn't even CONSIDER dating until we were at least 13.

Me: Oh, well that's good.

Blair: Lord knows how many times we've been asked out, though.

Me: Really?

Blair: Of course!

Me: Of course.

Cambodia, Part 3

Souvenirs and Shortcuts
08.03.07

These last few days of my trip have been interesting to say the least. We spent our last day at Rapha House on Monday – it was a day of pampering for both the girls and us. The team from Indiana brought all kinds of fun makeup and hair baubles for the girls and we spent the day playing dress up. For you hardcore missionary types this might seem a tad frivolous, but the truth is that these girls all had their childhoods ripped away from them and the simple act of playing is HUGE. After that we went to the salon that some of the girls work at and had our hair and nails done. This is when I discovered that I picked up an unwanted souvenir – they found a louse in my hair! Immediately my whole scalp started itching. Lice! But what did I expect, hugging on these 60 girls who all live together? Lice are bound to be rampant. Luckily, I’ve had someone check my head every day since and it appears that my strategy of using half a bottle of hairspray to drown the little suckers has so far prevented any eggs or more bugs.


After a tearful goodbye, we left Battenbang and took a four-hour boat ride to Siem Reap. The boat was long and skinny, barely big enough to hold our group. I kept jumping up and switching sides because I was sure we were going to capsize. At one point the driver decided we should take a shortcut and the next thing I know we’re pushing our way through weeds and bushes - you couldn’t even see the water anymore! For about 45 minutes all we could see was vegetation and sky. I still don’t know how we made to our destination in one piece.


At Siem Reap we visited the temples at Angkor Wat (where Tomb Raider was filmed) and saw a spectacular sunrise. One of the temples had a monkey running around, carrying a live frog like a child would carry it’s favorite stuffed animal. This place really is amazing.



One of the trees growing on and through a temple.



Temple Monkey

Back in Phnom Penh I took advantage of the hotel’s cheap spa services while the rest of the group toured the places I had visited with Bill and Mary just the week before. My massage was very thorough - something I wasn’t expecting. Fair warning if you get a massage in Asia. Thankfully I had a female masseuse. Otherwise, Ben would be very, very unhappy with how that $15 was spent! In case you get the munchies while exploring Phnom Penh.

Oh - also, another first for me on this trip: being the one with the best sense of direction　This, my friends, is a very scary thing indeed.

Cambodia, Part 2

Things I Don't Understand
07.27.07

- most of the Khmer language
- extremes within such close proximities to one another – Cambodia has more millionaires per capita than the States, leaving a very odd mix of the haves and have-nots.
- joy in the midst of such sorrow
- the cost of free will
- the sheer amount of irony in this world – on Women’s Island I saw a tree that was used as a place to throw babies against to kill them (so as not to waste bullets) and that also served as a source of ingredients to make an important medicine used during the Khmer Rouge time. It was like a modern day tree of good and evil. Additionally, I found that the Killing Fields aren’t actually fields, but an old building that used to be a school before it was taken over and turned into a prison and torture center. A place that used to provide hope for the future was turned into one that killed it. And finally, sex. A beautiful gift that has been transformed into an ugly, horrific commodity.
- what God wants me to do with this experience.

These past few days have felt less like an adventure and more like a very, very sad history lesson. After spending a couple of days in Battenbang with Rapha House, I traveled back to Phnom Penh with my in-laws to visit Women’s Island and the Killing Fields before they flew back to the U.S. It was very odd to be sending them back, telling them to tell Ben I loved him, and staying here. When Bill and Mary flew out, I joined up with another team going to Rapha House and made another 5 hour bus ride back to Battenbang. The girls planned a big reception and last night was full of dancing, weird food, and fun. The girls are trying to help me build my Kamir vocabulary and I think they get more excited when I pronounce things correctly than I do – and that’s saying something!

God’s really softened my heart towards this whole experience in the last week. After the jet lag wore off, I looked around at my surroundings and thought to myself, “I don’t like hot weather. I’m not a fan of Asian food. I’m not very good with kids. Why the heck am I here?!” But as I began to take pictures and get a glimpse into this world through my lens, something changed. I’m building relationships with the girls, particularly one little four-year-old named Andea, with whom I am utterly smitten; as well as gaining so much respect for the staff. I don’t think I’m ready to take up permanent residency, but I will be leaving a piece of my heart here. In the beginning I thought one trip was going to be enough for me, but my feelings about that are changing – given that Ben can come next time! This whole spending weeks apart thing is really starting to get old.

Cambodia, Part 1

Because I'm lazy, I'm just going to post the e-mails I sent home to friends and family throughout my trip.

Squatty Potties are NOT my favorite.

07.22.07

Greetings from Cambodia! That's right - I made it in one piece. Despite being my typical self! The trip got off to a banging start when I waddled (heavy backpack!) up to the ticket counter and provided the attendant with my itinerary and gave him a blank stare when he asked for my passport, as well. Passport?! Yes, genius here forgot to grab her passport out of the lockbox. My amazing, wonderful, fabulous husband came to my rescue and rushed home to retrieve it. (And then offered to "keep it our little secret"- what a guy!) Since my favorite coping mechanism is denial, I just kept telling myself during the hour that it took him to go home and come back that, "I'm not going to miss my plane. I'm not going to miss my plane. I'm just simply not going to miss it." And, luckily, I didn't. Although I did get a stern lecture from the ticketing man about being so late. Jerkface. Anyway, after running through LAX, I made it to my gate on time and settled in to my coach seat next to two boys from Peru on their way to Bali for a month of surfing. Rough life, right? The rest of the trip went really smoothly considering I've never traveled so far on my own, had to make a connecting flight in Tai Pei, and had only this description by which to identify the girl who was supposed to pick me up at the airport: small, dark hair, and dark eyes. Let me tell you - that does NOT narrow things down in Cambodia. But, by the grace of God, Theara and I found each other and I've been in good hands ever since.

The first night I met two other ladies who were joining me on the trip and we went to Theara's kids' club and practiced the great spiritual gift of play. I got some great pictures and realized the kids could not grasp the concept of red light, green light. After traveling around the city, however, I found out why. NO ONE grasps that concept here. I will never complain about L.A. traffic again!

The following day we met up with the rest of the group and took a four hour bus ride to Battenbang, where Rapha House is. It was quite an eye-opening experience. For one, I've never seen green so vibrant. Or such poverty. Even still, I felt so much more at home in the countryside than I did in the city, per usual. It's really amazingly beautiful here. And hot, but I was mentally prepared for that. After awhile, you just get used to wearing a wet shirt.

Today we went to church and Rapha House and I experienced my first "moto" ride with my father-in-law. All the other passengers ride side-saddle, but when have I ever cared about looking ladylike?! I had my first real Cambodian food for lunch - yellow noodles and veggies. Very good. But since I'm grossed out by most meat in the U.S., I've pretty much decided I'm not going to sample any meat here. That's why my bag is full of powerbars, jerky, and nuts. I may have only ended up with two pairs of pants, but at least I've got food! Yes, you could say I forgot about half the clothes that I intended to take, but whatever. It's all good. And it's not because I didn't pack until the last minute, Dad! It's because I did a mid-term, book review, online post and journal for classes on the same day that I left - I was a bit distracted.

Anyway, that's enough for now. The language barrier here might be the worst I've ever experienced, but the internet sure is cheap! I hope you are all doing well and that this e-mail finds you happy and blessed. Thanks for the prayers - I know they're the only reason I made it here without more mishaps!

Happy Birthday!

We celebrated Ben tonight in his favorite way - good food, good beer, and good friends. After a delicious dinner at The Melting Pot (Joey rocks!) we met up with the King's for dessert at the Best Ice Cream Place In The World (aka 21 Choices). Now, if you're keeping track, Ben's birthday festivities began on Friday with Transformers and extends through this weekend as he celebrates with the guys. Which means that I'll get to hear, "But it's my birthday!" at least ten more times before I leave for Cambodia. Lucky me. I mean that in the most sarcastic and sincerest way possible.

Nobody puts Baby in a corner.

I can quote most of Dirty Dancing because I've seen it about 87 times. Most of them before the age of 7. I had a life size poster of Patrick Swayze in my room when I was 6 and was fully convinced that his eyes followed me around the room. But the state of my emotional and psychological health at that time is another topic entirely. Back to why Dirty Dancing was on my mind of late - I found myself not only quoting the movie, but also acting out one scene in particular... remember the part where she's practicing on the bridge/walkway thing? Yeah, that's been me the past few days. Not the sexy cutt-off's and tank top 'after' part, but the lame button down shirt and white pants 'before' part. Foot stomping and post-kicking included.

My good friend, Katie, invited me to go Salsa dancing this past Sunday, and seeing as how my relationship with Salsa has been more akin to dipping than dancing, she taught me the basic steps before the big night. So I practiced. No spaghetti arms for me, thank you very much. Alas, I still sucked. I seemed to have four left feet and the kind of rhythm that is unmistakeably White. But what fun! People were so nice and super sweet to me - even if I did keep stepping on their feet (sorry, Katie)! I was treated with the utmost respect by all of the gentlemen - Ben need not to have worried about any Latin lovers. After two hours I was sweating like I had been running for miles and my feet felt like they were on fire. What a workout! Yet everyone else was still going strong. I think it was their special dance shoes. They must have magic power or something. Note to self: must buy dance shoes. P.S. to self: must buy more rhythm.

Anyway, it was a fabulous night and I can't wait to go back! But I'm a little nervous about not being able to say, "Oh, it's my first time," and get by just for being a cute little novice. I think I'm supposed to actually remember what I learned for the next round...

Mia

She also answers to Dexter & Alley Oop (cats' names), Ben (husband's name), Go-Away-You-Annoying-Little-Cuss, and Uh-Oh (for when I drop food in the kitchen).

Her goal in life is to catch a squirrel. She loves people, tolerates the cats, and isn't too sure about other dogs. She submissively pees. She prefers Cotton Candy gum over any other kind, which works for me because that's my least favorite. She sneaks into our bed at night. She uses her nose as a means for getting attention. She favors pillows over toys. She either pulls at the leash when we run or lags behind.

And I love her.

More Than Meets The Eye

Well, if this is the bandwagon, I'm jumping on it. Because MySpace and Facebook aren't enough distraction. And a one, and a two, and a...

Tonight I played the role of Wonderful Wife and agreed to go see a movie that was sure to tug at Ben's heartstrings. Only love could make me pass up some sweet eye candy in the form of George and Brad in favor of robots and cars. And only the presence of one immensely talented young actor could make me fight the initial desire to roll my eyes as we bought our tickets to Transformers tonight. Yes, I've been a loyal fan of Shia LaBeouf since his Even Stevens days (should I admit that?). And even though I can't pronounce his name correctly to save my life, I've enjoyed watching him venture into film. And, I'm happy to report, he has delivered another fine performance. I should also grudgingly report that I rather enjoyed the movie. Sure, it was basically a glorified car commercial, but the special effects were mind boggling and there were quite a few moments that I was practically in Ben's lap because of the suspense or insane amounts of action. But, as Lauren so aptly described, I, too, have the startle response of a war veteran. I react very physically to movies - I plug my ears, shut my eyes, and scream out loud when things get too intense. Tonight, the previews for Invasion may have given me PTSD. This is why I don't do scary movies, people. So, please stop sneaking in previews for this genre where they don't belong!

And P.S. For the love of Pete, why do people insist on clapping during and after movies? They can't hear you all the way up on that screen. The same goes for whistling. Just sit on your hands. You'll make less enemies that way.