written on January 29th, 2009. Not much has changed...
1. I look forward to my husband coming home every evening.
2. I have a foot phobia. I wear socks, I have to mentally prepare to cut my toe nails, I hate other people's feet getting too close to me.
3. I don't eat the last bite of my sandwich--unless I realize I'm doing that again, then I'll eat it just so that I'm not being weird.
4. The two people I always call when my kids do something funny, for the first time, or exceptionally naughty are my aunt, Ann, and my mom.
5. I want to be my mom when I grow up. She is absolutely amazing.
6. I got on a motorcycle for the first time just so that my dad and I would have something in common that we could do together. I was terrified. Now, I love it.
7. I struggle with depression in the winter time.
8. My 2 brothers are the funniest people in the world.
9. My kids make me so happy.
10. I have no patience or place in my life for arrogant people.
11. It pains me that I'm not a better gardener or cook. I want to do better in these areas.
12. My husband and I play Yahzee alot. We never get sick of it. He usually makes me laugh till I cry.
13. I want to hike with my kids this summer.
14. I'm deathly afraid of mice.
15. I used to work at a convenience store.
16. I have to fight back tears at baptisms.
17. I thought playing vintage baseball in an ankle length dress in the heat of summer was really fun.
18. One of my favorite things to do is to get together with my in-laws--extended family.
19. I think that everybody who is in charge of finances in the government should be required to take Financial Peace classes from Dave Ramsey.
20. I have the most awesome group of friends.
21. I use coupons.
22. I'm allergic to maple syrup.
23. I worry about failing at things that really matter like living the way Christ wants me to live, being the best mom and wife I can be, doing a good job at work, and being healthy.
24. BUT, I'm beginning to find my true worth and value in being a redeemed child of God rather than in how successful I am, or how special others think I am.
25. I like to get into mischief from time to time, just to mix it up a bit.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Mark's Journey To Planet Jen
My husband and I live on two different planets most of the time. I found out last night that he was trying to make a journey to my planet, and I'm still smiling about it.
He came back from the gym after 10 p.m. last night, after he had shoveled our ugly driveway clear of snow, no less.
"You have really been putting some effort into your fitness lately," I noticed.
"Yea, I'm down a few pounds since the new year began," he confided.
"That's great! Is there anything I can do to be supportive of you in your effort?" I asked.
He didn't really answer me as he headed into the bathroom to shower. But then he stuck his head out and told me that he bought some weights and a workout DVD to keep at his overnight job. He sleeps some nights at a home for developmentally disabled men and has some down time after they are in bed to do whatever he wants and needs to do before he retires for the night.
The first time he put in the DVD, he sat on the couch and watched it, to see what he may be getting into; to see if it was something he felt he could do.
This illustrates the fact that there are two kinds of people: those who watch fitness videos the first time through, and those who do them. My husband is the guy who would assess the risk, calculate the effects, and make a plan. I am the girl who just grabs the weights and flounders through.
It drives me crazy that we are so different. I can't count the number of times I've wanted to mercilessly beat my husband with a Styrofoam noodle because he won't throw caution to the wind and just LIVE. And I don't even want to admit the number of times I've had to be grateful he holds back and then patiently throws me a life preserver to save me from myself.
Upon deeming the workout an accomplish-able task, he decided to give it a try one of the following nights when he was at work. On the second night of doing the DVD, he said he didn't get too far into it before his left shoulder, which gives him pain on occasion, exclaimed, "Screw this!" and Mark had to cease his attempt to do the workout...at least temporarily.
His animated re-telling was pretty cute, and I sympathized, "Aw, that's too bad your shoulder gave you such a hard time."
Mark hesitated before adding, "Yea. I wasn't going to tell you about [the workouts]. It was going to be a surprise."
And that was it. How could I not fall head over heels in love with my husband all over again in that moment? He was trying to secretly become more fit until one evening, someday, I would snuggle up to him and suddenly realize that he was holding me in one hot pair of muscular arms.
As for now, I'm loving him where he's at, for who he is and for who he is working to become. Oh, okay. I admit that I hope he throws in that DVD and picks up the weights again sometime soon, because I do have a thing for a good set of pipes. (-:
He came back from the gym after 10 p.m. last night, after he had shoveled our ugly driveway clear of snow, no less.
"You have really been putting some effort into your fitness lately," I noticed.
"Yea, I'm down a few pounds since the new year began," he confided.
"That's great! Is there anything I can do to be supportive of you in your effort?" I asked.
He didn't really answer me as he headed into the bathroom to shower. But then he stuck his head out and told me that he bought some weights and a workout DVD to keep at his overnight job. He sleeps some nights at a home for developmentally disabled men and has some down time after they are in bed to do whatever he wants and needs to do before he retires for the night.
The first time he put in the DVD, he sat on the couch and watched it, to see what he may be getting into; to see if it was something he felt he could do.
This illustrates the fact that there are two kinds of people: those who watch fitness videos the first time through, and those who do them. My husband is the guy who would assess the risk, calculate the effects, and make a plan. I am the girl who just grabs the weights and flounders through.
It drives me crazy that we are so different. I can't count the number of times I've wanted to mercilessly beat my husband with a Styrofoam noodle because he won't throw caution to the wind and just LIVE. And I don't even want to admit the number of times I've had to be grateful he holds back and then patiently throws me a life preserver to save me from myself.
Upon deeming the workout an accomplish-able task, he decided to give it a try one of the following nights when he was at work. On the second night of doing the DVD, he said he didn't get too far into it before his left shoulder, which gives him pain on occasion, exclaimed, "Screw this!" and Mark had to cease his attempt to do the workout...at least temporarily.
His animated re-telling was pretty cute, and I sympathized, "Aw, that's too bad your shoulder gave you such a hard time."
Mark hesitated before adding, "Yea. I wasn't going to tell you about [the workouts]. It was going to be a surprise."
And that was it. How could I not fall head over heels in love with my husband all over again in that moment? He was trying to secretly become more fit until one evening, someday, I would snuggle up to him and suddenly realize that he was holding me in one hot pair of muscular arms.
As for now, I'm loving him where he's at, for who he is and for who he is working to become. Oh, okay. I admit that I hope he throws in that DVD and picks up the weights again sometime soon, because I do have a thing for a good set of pipes. (-:
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Adventures of a Parking Ramp Wanderer, Part II
I know that just a couple weeks ago I vowed never to lose my van in a parking ramp again, but I have this chronic tendency to go here and there consumed in multiple thought processes, and apparently my previous twenty minutes of parking ramp wandering and frost bit toes were not enough to cure me.
Yesterday, after visiting a hospitalized friend, I entered the elevator of the parking ramp nearest Mayo's comprehensive mental health facility and stood between two individuals a moment before exclaiming animatedly, "OH, NO! I've done it again! I don't remember where I parked!"
The man to my left cautiously glanced at me and pressed 2.
"I think I'll give 2 a try as well," I declared.
Hardly aware of my small audience, began to chatter, "I don't recall driving too far into this ramp...Oh my gosh! I can't BELIEVE it. I am ALWAYS losing my van!"
The lady to my right was giggling quietly as the man and I stepped out of the elevator. I knew that she too must be an occasional parking ramp wanderer. "Good luck!" encouraged my vehicle-losing sister from the elevator as the doors closed.
I was right on the man's heels as he entered the ramp. I was astonishingly unaware of my close proximity to him as I launched into the story of my most recent parking ramp wandering experience. The cold air and speed of my thoughts sent the story racing from my mouth with such charisma that my hands and arms felt the need to join in to punctuate the words, and I was walking so closely to him that I once even brushed against his right arm.
Finally I became aware that the old guy was glancing fearfully at me out of the corner of his eye, that he was trying to create space between us. When I accidentally brushed his arm, his head snapped to the right as he gave me a startled look and then with wide eyes he scanned the scene before him as he increased his pace.
I then realized that the guy was afraid of me for some mysterious reason.
Puzzled, I took a split second to assess the man's experience, all the while prattling on about my last parking ramp van search. I had a fairly significantly-sized bag slung over my shoulder along with my purse, and we were, after all, walking together through the ramp nearest the psych ward.
"Oh! This man must think I'm truly out of my mind!"
Perhaps this realization should have humbled me to silence, but it didn't. I cheerfully concluded the story and wished him a lovely evening as I opened the passenger-side door to my van and slung my cargo inside. He was clearly relieved. I was quietly amused.
I'm just glad my van was indeed parked on Level 2, because I'm pretty sure that the rattled old man, once safely locked inside his vehicle, would have called security on this crazy parking ramp wanderer.
Yesterday, after visiting a hospitalized friend, I entered the elevator of the parking ramp nearest Mayo's comprehensive mental health facility and stood between two individuals a moment before exclaiming animatedly, "OH, NO! I've done it again! I don't remember where I parked!"
The man to my left cautiously glanced at me and pressed 2.
"I think I'll give 2 a try as well," I declared.
Hardly aware of my small audience, began to chatter, "I don't recall driving too far into this ramp...Oh my gosh! I can't BELIEVE it. I am ALWAYS losing my van!"
The lady to my right was giggling quietly as the man and I stepped out of the elevator. I knew that she too must be an occasional parking ramp wanderer. "Good luck!" encouraged my vehicle-losing sister from the elevator as the doors closed.
I was right on the man's heels as he entered the ramp. I was astonishingly unaware of my close proximity to him as I launched into the story of my most recent parking ramp wandering experience. The cold air and speed of my thoughts sent the story racing from my mouth with such charisma that my hands and arms felt the need to join in to punctuate the words, and I was walking so closely to him that I once even brushed against his right arm.
Finally I became aware that the old guy was glancing fearfully at me out of the corner of his eye, that he was trying to create space between us. When I accidentally brushed his arm, his head snapped to the right as he gave me a startled look and then with wide eyes he scanned the scene before him as he increased his pace.
I then realized that the guy was afraid of me for some mysterious reason.
Puzzled, I took a split second to assess the man's experience, all the while prattling on about my last parking ramp van search. I had a fairly significantly-sized bag slung over my shoulder along with my purse, and we were, after all, walking together through the ramp nearest the psych ward.
"Oh! This man must think I'm truly out of my mind!"
Perhaps this realization should have humbled me to silence, but it didn't. I cheerfully concluded the story and wished him a lovely evening as I opened the passenger-side door to my van and slung my cargo inside. He was clearly relieved. I was quietly amused.
I'm just glad my van was indeed parked on Level 2, because I'm pretty sure that the rattled old man, once safely locked inside his vehicle, would have called security on this crazy parking ramp wanderer.
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