Morning and Evening

My husband is a morning person. I am not. It isn't that I don't like mornings, on the contrary...they're my favorite. It's just that I can't seem to function up to speed in the mornings. I groan as the alarm goes off (always making my husband chuckle). I groan again as I force my "dead weight" body into a sitting position. I stumble blindly into the bathroom to shower. My eyes do not officially open until after the shower (I just peek occasionally in the mean time). I slowly browse through my closet for something to wear. I sit at a desk and put on my makeup. I contemplate whether to fix my hair or be a slob. Eventually I'm ready for breakfast--at which time I am finally able to speak more than unintelligable words.

Now, in this same amount of time, Luke has: showered and dressed, made the bed, paid the bills, taken out the trash, gassed my car, cooked us a full breakfast of eggs and toast and fruit, made sure my cell phone is in my purse, washed the dishes, and checked his email.

How do I compensate? I make dinner: leftover chili. No joke, folks. The unfortunate thing for Luke is that my best performance time is during work. By the time I come home, I'm tired.

Now, some might look at this and think I got the better end of the deal--that my husband lucked-out. Not so! Sure, I suppose he is the handy-man, the breakfast maker, the one who vacuums the apartment, who plays music for me on his guitar, who changes the oil in both cars and comes home from practice Sunday morning just so we can go to church together. Sure, he gets the dishes cleaner, hangs the pictures straiter, makes our budgets for the next 5 years, gives me back massages and pays the rent.

But, I bring some great things to this marriage, too! I draw the cutest mouse pictures you've ever seen! I can play silly ditties on the harmonica, have impressive school loans, and have quite the knack for bumping into things (thus keeping Luke on his toes to ensure my protection and feel like a hero).

Well, honestly, folks, if the above doesn't make you laugh, you're boring. (And please don't take me too seriously...I can also make spaghetti!).

Of Mice and May

Breath Deeply

I need to do that. So do you.

Grace for the Stranger on the Phone

I've never had so many rude people call on the phone as I have in the last three days. What is their problem? I mean...I might understand better if it were a dark gloomy cold day in February. But it is the most beautiful week we've had and I'm just doing my job like everybody else. It is strange to me how somebody I don't even know can get me so flustered. Why should I care? But still, I do. My gut inclination is to be rude back...to make them pay for their poor treatment of me (afterall, I'm very polite and cheerful on the phone). But I usually can bite the inclination back.

I'd like to say that I "hold back" because I have grace for these people. But that isn't the truth. The truth is, it is professionalism that holds me in my place. And for that, I am feeling quite guilty. I'm sure the neighbors and enemies I am commanded to love would include those insensitive strangers I talk to on the phone. God, I think I need that extra "portion" of You for this day.

To Me: A Good Movie

I have a very intricate and rather unusual list of qualities a movie needs to be "good". Luke and I saw a movie last night that did not get a lot of publicity or amazing reviews...in fact, only one theater in the entire Des Moines area was showing it: but we loved it. I don't push my views on anyone else (I've had enough debates with my brother on this subject)...but I just wanted to share my thoughts for fun. They are not all that well developed right now, but perhaps they will be of interest to some of you, anyway.

1. The story needs to have redeeming qualities in it.
2. There usually must be some sense of the spectacular, miraculous, or even magical in it.
3. The "hero" in it must truly be heroic. (Not some Superman who seduces another man's woman)
4. There must be character development of some sort.
5. There must be beauty in it. I'm an artist, and I appreciate beautiful art (of many kinds) in movies.
6. It must leave me with a sense of either satisfaction or motivation.
7. It must not contradict my desire to "feed" myself on what is wholesome and good. (I just don't fall for the idea of saturating myself with movies because they give me a glimpse of the "real world". I live in the real world.)

Anything but Bored

I feel like writing...but my mind is drawing a blank.
I feel like painting...but have no inspired pictures.
I feel like cooking...but have no time.
I feel like cleaning...but the apartment is clean.
I feel like reading...but can't focus on a book when my husband is around.
I feel like playing Lord of the Rings Monopoly...but don't have much patience.
I feel like scrapbooking...but don't have the pictures.

I love it when I feel this way!!! Life is void of dull moments when you have a constant list of things you feel like doing!

Feeling Like the Water Rat

Nature's Grand Hotel has its Season, like the others. As the guests one by one pack, pay, and depart, and the seats at the table d'hote shrink pitifully at each succeeding meal; as suites of rooms are closed, carpets taken up, and waiters sent away; those boarders who are staying on, en pension, until the next year's full reopening, cannot help being somewhat affected by all these flittings and farewells, this eager discussion of plans, routes and fresh quarters, this daily shrinkage in the stream of comradeship. One gets unsettled, depressed, and inclined to be querulous. Why this craving for change? Why not stay on quietly here, like us, and be jolly? You don't know this hotel out of the season, and what fun we have among ourselves, we fellows who remain and see the whole interesting year out. All very true, no doubt, the others always reply; we quite envy you--and some other year perhaps--but just now we have engagements--and there's the bus at the door--our time is up! So they depart, with a smile and a nod, and we miss them, and feel resentful. The Rat was a self-sufficing sort of animal, rooted to the land, and whoever went, he stayed; still, he could not help noticing what was in the air, and feeling some of its influence in his bones.

The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame

A Few More Pics

Preparing for Rehearsal and Dinner


Dressing for the wedding


Hair Prep


Foot Massage



I know these are just a few scattered remnants of the big day (and evening before)...I will create a whole scrapbook on Kodak Easyshare so you can see more if you want. My favorite picture is the one of Luke massaging my poor hurting feet. That sums up my husband's character (he even makes me breakfast and washes the dishes)!

Finally....Mrs. Strahan