They Say it's YOUR BIRTHDAY!!

Two members of our original crew are celebrating Birthdays today! 

Happy Birthday to Dad AND Val...

You are so MORBY.

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I'm turning into my dad.

-I made my sandwich and prepared the coffee pot Thursday evening before I went to bed.

-I went running at 6:00am on Friday morning.

-I then proceeded to get ready for work while listening to Mozart.

-I listened to NPR on the way to work.

-I drank coffee on the way to work.

-I worked a half day on Friday.

-I rolled my eyes when the DJ company suggested slow jazz for background music during my reception.

-I can't just watch t.v.- I have to be doing SOMETHING.

Don't even let me get started with mom...

Family

Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one. - Jane Howard

It's 11:34pm on August 27th. My parents flew in from Texas sometime this evening. In fact, they are currently sleeping in my room as I type this sitting on an air mattress in my living room. I haven't seem them today. I will have to wait for the morning. It feels good to know they are just a room away.

Tonight was the final dress rehearsal and preview performance for my show. My Arizona parents came to the show. We aren't related, but they took me under their wing the first week I arrived here. As I walked forward to take my final bow just a few hours ago, I looked out and saw four hands holding up the "I Love You" sign. I knew it was for me. And I started crying.

I awoke this morning so very exhausted. I work until 5:00pm and spend 5:30pm until 11:00pm at the theater. I don't stop moving. All day long. I snag time in the Word as I drift asleep or eat my breakfast. I almost cried on the way in to work today as I prayed for Him to take whatever load I was trying to carry. There was just too much to be done. I so wanted to walk in the Spirit. But as I walked up to the doors I was cheerfully greeted by two near and dears and I promptly shut down. I met their smiles and hugs with a brisk walk and frustrated tone. I had failed the moment I stepped out of my car. By the time I made it to a 9:30 meeting I was about to break down again. But two friends sat, listened and encouraged. I took a deep breath and made it to lunch.

This was my last week in the children's department. Starting Tuesday I will officially be working with the youth department at our church. It's a huge change and I'm every emotion under the sun. To send me off several friends and co-workers went to lunch. They were kind and generous with their words, and the exhaustion and stress once again lost their will to fight me.

I was worried about having everything ready for tomorrow. Val and Dad share August 28th for their Birthday. My mom and dad were Arizona bound and I didn't even have paper towels in my apartment. I was out of time. I was panicked about finishing filming in time to leave for the theatre and be ready for mic check. At 4:00pm all the power went out on the entire street. No lie. No more filming. No more work. Time to buy paper towels.

As I thanked the Lord for this unexpected gift I ran back to pack my bags and clear my desk. Sitting in front of my computer was a beautiful bouquet of flowers along with a card signed by some near and dears. I crawled into my car and sat amazed as the tears started to come again.

The final dress rehearsal was smooth... mostly. I never did eat dinner. I should already be in bed. But I can't sleep. I'm thinking about my sister coming to visit in one week. I'm setting out my Dad's Birthday card by the coffee maker, since he will be up hours before me and will probably have changed my air filters by the time I get up.

I'm tearing up again because HE is so good. He has blessed me beyond measure. My family is everywhere. And they are amazing.

Happy Birthday Val and Dad. I love you.

And if you ask me why, I'll say...

I grew up eating only bologna sandwiches for lunch. Lest you think my parents unusually cruel, I will let you know that my father did just about anything to broaden my horizons. My sandwich of choice was just the meat and the bread. It doesn’t get much easier than that (except my brother’s brief stint with ketchup bread, which is disgusting as it sounds.) My dad most often made my sandwich each school night and could be heard frequently asking me, “Are you sure you don’t want cheese this time, or mustard?” Why would he want to complicate a good thing? Although I have broadened my horizons and now enjoy turkey sandwiches with all the fixings (just never mayo), I will only eat a bologna sandwich plain…and sometimes smashed for good measure.
When I was home for Christmas, my parents and I went to a restaurant known for great hamburgers. I ordered mine medium with just cheese and ketchup. “You still do that? You are wasting that hamburger with cheese and ketchup?!” – Yep. Dad again. I’m really ok with my meager selections.

I’m not certain what this says about me, except that my palate must be in want of some new fare. I had carrots, tomatoes, and cinnamon toast for dinner last night (not at the same time). Isn’t that what growing up is all about? Making your own choices because you are in fact, the boss? I’ve really enjoyed that aspect of living on my own. I’m certainly thankful I don’t have to feed anyone else, because I don’t know many others who would have eaten grilled cheese and tomato soup 5 dinners in a row. It was one of those large containers of soup, and I didn’t want it to go bad…so I ate it until it was all gone.

When my friends and I went to Destin, Florida a couple of years ago, we made a rule that every night someone had to ask the group two questions. One was to be serious and the other could be random or funny. So if it was my turn I might ask everyone about the craziest thing they’ve ever done and then who inspires them most. Someone asked the question, “What would you eat at your last meal?” People compiled lavish menus complete with appetizers and Sweet Tea from McAllister’s to lavish deserts from the Cheese Cake Factory.

What if I told you the bologna sandwich made my list? Wait, scratch that. A bologna sandwich with wheat bread and a post it note…inside the sandwich.

I suppose Dad really thought my sandwich needed something. I can’t tell you how many times he would slide a note just above the “meat” stating – Enjoy your lunch, or love you, or something to the effect of “this sandwich is full of bologna, love dad.” I can’t tell you how many times this actually occurred because I would often sit down to dinner and have Dad turn to me and say with a smile, “How was your lunch today?” I wonder how many post-its I’ve eaten in my lifetime. Don’t worry. I got him back a few times. I bet the mayo and mustard did a number on the paper.

The bologna sandwich did not make my last meal list, but it should…if nothing else then to get a note to remind me of who I am and where I come from.

Little Drummer Boy

I'm listening to the Christmas Music station via my T.V. and the current selection happens to be Burl Ives singing "The Little Drummer Boy." I'm not the biggest Burl fan, and I've also inherited my Father's "love" for this particular Christmas Carol. Maybe it's the rum-pa-pum-pum that drives me crazy. Yes, as I listen to Burl, that's it. He's asking if he should play for me, pa-rum-pa-pum. No. Please do not play for me Burl.

I promise I'm not a Scrooge. Aaah. The rum-pa-pum is getting louder. I need to move to try and turn down the volume. This is going to be harder than I thought, seeing as I have not moved from my spot on the couch for the past hour or so. It's been one of those evenings. It's rainy and 45 degrees outside. It's just the perfect "no moving unless the rum-pa-pum-pum song is on" kind of night.

I thought about going to the gym. I thought long and hard about it. I even watched part of "The Biggest Loser" and felt very inspired and guilty all at the same time. I have a love-hate relationship with shows that make you feel like you too should be able to lose 5% of your body weight in one week. So I counter-acted those thoughts by watching "Chocolat" (http://videodetective.com/photos/065/002770_19.jpg)- again. Watching that movie usually requires me to eat some form of chocolate. Go figure. So I've decided to compromise between the chocolate and the gym. I'm not eating anything else, but I'm also not moving. I suppose I will have to move to brush my teeth before going to bed, but that's it. The really funny part is that I've somehow convinced myself that somehow I will be going to the gym at 6:00 in the morning. That's hysterical. I have like a 10% likelihood of that actually happening, if my track record is any indication. My alarm will ring at 5:30 and I will proceed to hit the alarm until 6:30 when I will be forced to chide myself for not going to the gym and then go and turn the coffee on. It's going to be swell....pa-rum-pa-pum-pum.

Saltwater Coke

Some of the best days of my life have been spent in the little town of Galveston, Texas. The beaches were brown and carpeted in seaweed, but to me it was a glittering tropical paradise. Each day we'd load the car full of chairs, coolers, boogie boards, buckets, and the kitchen sink (well, maybe not that last one) and head down to the beach. We'd spend the morning splashing in the (murky) water, building sandy drip castles, and digging deep holes in the sand before grabbing our sandwiches and soft drinks and settling down to lunch. The sandwiches were sandy and the cokes were warm, but anything is satisfying when you're sitting out in the beating sun and watching the crashing waves.

After lunch, feeling especially mischevious, Ginger and I would sneak down to the water with our empty coke cans and carefully fill them halfway full of ocean water. Then we'd nonchalantly make our way back up to the rest of our group, pretending to drink from our soda cans, and trying our hardest not to giggle. Finally we'd approach our dad and proclaim that we simply could not finish our drinks, and would he like to have the rest? Perhaps because he was distracted, or maybe because the heat affected his powers of reason, he would always say "Sure" and take the can from us, not suspecting a thing. He would raise the can take a big swig until SPEW!! He was sputtering and spitting out the disgusting taste of saltwater. And Ginger and I would double over in laughter, as this clearly was the funniest thing in the world.

Looking back, I'm sure we weren't nearly as devious as we thought, and that he always knew what he was getting himself into. But is there anything funnier than pulling a prank on your dad? We absolutely loved it. To this day we have remembered our hilarious trick, and apparently it has stuck with us enough to become the name of this blog. Thanks, Dad!