Monthly Archives: July 2009

Will You Do Me a Favor?

I truly did not intend to keep you waiting here. Remember when I made you try to guess what was in the Fed Ex envelope. Man, that was annoying. I had no idea this week was going to be so hectic. Ray the Mover’s truck came on Monday instead of Wednesday so my life has been upside down this week with boxes and piles of stuff. We have put the dog situation on hold for now because quite honestly, we just don’t need any more chaos.

The main reason I stopped by tonight is because I need to ask you for a huge favor. I’ve made a few new blog friends in the last few weeks that may not know that my dad was diagnosed with glioblastoma multiforme (malignant brain tumor) in December of last year. He’s been on a new chemotherapy for the last eight weeks or so and he had an MRI on Wednesday to see how the medicine is working. Tomorrow Dad’s oncologist will give us the results.

I know that the Bible specifically says to “be anxious for nothing,” but to tell the truth, I’m anxious. I would really appreciate any prayers you would be willing to give on behalf of my dad and my family. We’re praying for a miracle and we don’t care how it’s delivered. If God wants to name the miracle Avastin, the drug Dad is currently taking, we’ll praise Him just the same. We just desperately want Dr. Hargon to give us good news tomorrow. 

Can you do me a big favor? Will you please pray? My dad’s appointment is scheduled for 9 a.m. tomorrow (CST).I’ll try to update you here as soon as I can. Tweeps, I’ll try to let you know something from my phone as soon as I know. Some of you are real-life, flesh-and-blood friends that I’ve known for many, many years. Some of you are new friends who live in my computer. All of you have become precious to me and are an important part of my life. I appreciate you sharing in this part of my life as well.

So will you do me a favor and pray?

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A Couple of Schnoodles’ Tails

We want a dog. We’ve wanted a dog for quite some time actually, but at first K didn’t think it was a good idea. The kids and I began the wearing down process some time ago and had made considerable progress, but our last landlady didn’t allow pets. K promised that as soon as we were settled in our new location, we could get a dog. The kids and I took “settled in our new location” to mean as soon as we were in the same time zone as our future house.

I researched a few breeds that I thought might be a good match for our family. Of course we want a dog that plays well with children, being that we have children and all. I really want a dog that doesn’t shed. Our first practice dog was a black Labrador retriever, Whuffo. Whuffo was the greatest boy dog who ever lived on the face of the earth. The only thing that kept Whuffo from being perfect is the litter of fur puppies he produced daily that I had to sweep every fifteen minutes of the day. Oh, the shedding! Yes, a non-shedding, hypoallerginic dog would be ideal.

As a result of my dog research I have decided that the poodle –how can I say this delicately so as not to offend?–really “gets around” the neighborhood. Yes, apparently the bows and painted nails are the equivalent of fishnet stockings and micro-minis, because EVERYBODY in the dog world seems to have had the opportunity to get up close and personal with a member of the poodle family. Labradoodles, Golden Doodles,Weimardoodles…..Don’t believe me? Google it yourself! But one breed in particular caught my attention. Do you know what happens when a poodle falls in love with a schnauzer? They have baby schnoodles!!  Schnoodles? Why my blog’s name is “Snoodlings,” don’t you know! But the dogs I saw online were specially bred dogs that cost anywhere from $400 to $700. We’d really rather adopt.

I went to Petfinder.com, because we want to adopt a dog who needs us as much as we want him/her. I scrolled through the list of dogs available in our area, and lo and behold! Two Schnoodles were available to adopt from a rescue center not too far from us! I called the contact number and arranged to meet the foster moms and the two dogs after church today at a Pet Smart in their town. They’re  dogs are a precious brother and sister who are about six months old. The foster moms said that the dogs were the victims of abuse in the form of neglect. The dogs are shy but very affectionate. My kids love dogs of every size, shape, and variety and they immediately took to both dogs.

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So now we have a dilemma (one of my favorite words to say but not one of my favorite things to have). The boys love the boy dog, Hobbes. The girl loves the girl dog, Calvin. (Apparently, they were unsure of Calvin’s gender when she was named.) The deal was that we were going to add ONE dog to our family. But how in the world can we ever decide between these two? Also, my mama told me that you don’t go steady with the first guy you date and I’m wondering if it’s smart to make a lifelong commitment to the first dog we meet. But they’re so very precious! Yep. We’re in quite a pickle. I was hoping there would be bells and whistles and we’d immediately know if we’d met the one(s). Hopefully, the dog we choose will be in our family for a long, long time and we really need to get this decision right!!

We filled out the paperwork that the Humane Society requires and we told the foster moms we needed to go home and talk and pray about this decision. You’d better believe we’re going to pray about this one! We’re adding a family member, for crying out loud! I’ll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, the driver of our moving van who is supposed to arrive to unload our earthly belongings this Wednesday called tonight…..to tell us that he’ll be arriving tomorrow at 9 a.m. Yes, tomorrow as in less than twelve hours from now. To unload our stuff into our house. The house for which we don’t even possess keys. Yay. K told him that we needed to delay that unloading for a day if at all possible. So we have some frantic phone calls to make tomorrow. My next post may be live from a padded cell. That seems like a nice, soft place to rest, doesn’t it? I could really use a nap.

Until then, if you have any doggie words of wisdom or advice that you’d like to share, I’d be more than happy to hear from you!!

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End of the Week Leftovers

1. Is anyone else bothered by the name of the show “America’s Got Talent”? Why couldn’t they name it “America HAS Talent”? I had the same problem back in my AOL days when that little guy announced “You’ve got mail.” No, I HAVE mail. If we can’t change the name, can we add to it? I suggest, “America’s Got Talent, Not Good Grammar.”

2. If I were the child in this family instead of one of the grown-ups, I would wait until the grown-ups were right on the edge of falling asleep. You know the feeling I’m talking about, right? That magical place between awake and asleep where you’re very sensitive to sound and light? Yeah, right at that moment, I’d run full speed down the hall, throw open the door like the house is on fire, slam on the overhead light and announce in my outside voice that my leg hurts and I can’t sleep and I heard something in the hall that sounded like people whispering and laughing and like this, “Chert, chert, chert.”  Seriously, Firstborn? First of all, for a boy with a hurting leg, you sure were making good time streaking through the hall just now. Second of all, I can’t make counting lists while I’m in cardiac arrest and my eyes are trying to adjust to the light of a thousand suns.  To summarize, we’re having sleep issues around here lately.

3. I just tried a new cobbler recipe. It’s cooling on the stove right now so I’m not going to share the recipe with you in case it tastes like mud. It smells good. I bought some Homemade Vanilla Bluebell ice cream to go with it, so if the cobbler’s not good, the dessert won’t be a total waste. Oh, Bluebell, how I’ve missed you. Unfortunately, I STILL haven’t made it to Sonic. I hope to rectify that situation this weekend.

4. Speaking of being back in the South in the land of Bluebell, Sonic, and Chick-fil-A, yesterday I went to the local health food store to buy ear candles….yeah, that’s probably another item for the list, possibly another blog post. Anyway, I also bought some Blue Sky root beer because Meredith said it was very tasty. I ended up having a conversation with the lady who was ringing up my purchases. This lady had recently moved here from Idaho and I told her that we had recently moved back here from Massachusetts. Somehow we ended up talking about how we wished that this area had a Trader Joe’s or a Whole Foods Market or even a decent grocery store. She let me in on the secret of why none of those wonderful things are available here. Lean in closer and I’ll tell you if you promise not to tell. She told me that the reason we can’t get good stuff like that here….is because….shhh…of the Baptists. I did not know that. ”

“Wow,” I said. “My dad’s been a Baptist minister for my entire life and I had no idea that we were against Trader Joe’s. It’s never come up in a business meeting.”

“Oh, that’s because here they have SOUTHERN Baptists. They’re very different from the Northern Baptists,” she informed me. Two things struck me about this conversation. First, the obvious. Baptists? Really? Second, she didn’t think I was from here. That’s weird. I sound more like here than where we lived. Whatever.

5. Our stuff gets here next Wednesday, thus beginning the end of the longest move in recorded history. I’m really thinking about seeing if we can get into the Guiness Book.

6. I have pictures and stories to share from the last few weeks but my computer is in a box and I’m hoping that by the time we’re all reconnected and wired in the new house that I won’t have forgotten the stories or the significance of the pictures. If so, I’ll just make something up that sounds like it would fit the pictures.

7. I hope you have a great weekend. Next week will be more craziness, but I hope to check in more regularly than I did when we were on the road. Until then, good night and Big Balls. (I hope you watch Wipeout.)

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There’s No Place Like Home

“So where are y’all from?”asked the cute teenager standing behind the counter at the Homebaked Ham in Jackon, TN. It was a simple enough question and yet K and I stood there looking at each other as if we were new members of the Witness Protection Program who were desperately afraid we were getting ready to blow our cover. 

“We’re kind of between ‘froms’ right now,” I said, almost sheepishly. I wondered how she knew we weren’t from there. Have we been homeless so long that we don’t look like we belong anywhere anymore?

A similar situation happened while we were visiting K’s mom in Kentucky. After church, I told the little Snoodles that as soon as we got home everyone needed to to change into some play clothes.

Princess Diva looked confused. “Home? Which home?”

When it came time to fill out forms to have our mail delivery stopped in Massachusetts, I realized that we didn’t have a forwarding address. The post office frowns on using your minivan’s license plate as your new address.We used my parent’s address instead. Their house will be our “home” for a few more days.

“I know you’ll be so glad to get back home!” That’s what so many people have told us for the past few weeks. In a very true sense of the word, this is a homecoming of sorts. My mom and dad and brother are here. I’ve spent more of my life here than anywhere else I’ve ever lived. So I’m from Louisiana, right? Well, South Carolina was my home for the first fifteen years of my life. I’ve made my home in other states along the way and each place made its own special home in my heart.

Next week the Snoodles will have another new address. I’ve never been able to pinpoint the exact moment that a house becomes our home. Next week all of our familiar stuff will be unpacked into an unfamiliar space. Somewhere along the way, the two will merge to become our home. Every time we move I tell myself that I’m going to watch very carefully to see just when that marriage happens.

Is it after the first night in our new bedrooms?

Is it after the first spill?

Is it once the pictures are hung on the walls? That can’t be it because I rarely get all the stuff hung before it’s take to take everything down and pack it away for the next move.

Does it happen the first time we have company to visit?

Do holidays make a place feel more like home?

We hadn’t lived in Massachusetts for a long time when we took a trip to D.C. for a couple of weeks. When our trip was finished, I realized on the drive back to Waltham that I was looking forward to being home. Maybe you have to leave a place for a time to realize where your home is.

Maybe we carry home with us in our hearts. Maybe it’s partly place and mostly people. I know that I’ve said that my home is wherever my family is, but I also know that there have been times when I’ve been surrounded by the people I love most in the world and still felt…..dare I say it?….homesick.

I think God wired us to carry a little bit of that homesick feeling tucked deep into our hearts. Sometimes it’s closer to the surface and other times we barely know it’s there, but I don’t think He ever meant for us to ever truly be completely at home here on this earth.

I’ve been thinking about the last chapter of The Last Battle, the final book in The Chronicles of Narnia series. The children realize that the wonderful Narnia that they love so much is only a foretaste of the true Narnia that Aslan has prepared for them. I, too, am realizing that this world is not my home. I am learning to be, as the lesser-known last part of the Serenity Prayer says, “reasonably happy in this life,” knowing I will be “supremely happy with Him forever in the next.”

Until we get to the final Narnia, I’ll endeavor to make each place we live as much like home as I possibly can. How about you? What makes where you are “home” for you? If you’ve ever moved, when did you new place become “home”? Do you do anything special to make your house a home?

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Old Friends & New Friends Who Feel Like New Friends*

*The title of the post is in no way, shape, or form meant to insinuate that the friends referred to in this post are “old” as in one step away from fighting over George Clooney in the nursing home. “Old” in this context simply refers to the length of the friendship I share with CPQ.

Kellie and Sus have already posted about our girls’ night out last night, and their blog posts actually have pictures. Someone left her camera at CPQ’s house and forgot that her phone takes pictures.  In someone‘s defense, she’s not firing on the few cylinders she has left these days. Someone was also so giddy to be spending a few hours talking to only grownups that she is surprised she remembered to wear shoes, much less accessories. Actually, someone borrowed the accessories from CPQ because she forgot to pack her own. Someone actually didn’t even bring a suitcase to CPQ’s house. She brought a laundry bag of dirty clothes and a Target bag with a few miscellaneous items. Does someone have it all together or what?

I’m going to quit referring to myself as “someone” for the duration of this post. You’re welcome. But seriously, I realized how long it has been since I’ve had a night with friends when I saw Kellie’s ears slide right  off the side of her head and down into her lap. Yep. I talked them right off  her cute hair-styled head. I apologized this morning over Twitter and she graciously forgave me. That’s just the kind of classy chick she is.

It’s too bad Kellie didn’t get to meet me today. I’ve used more of my words and I don’t think I’d be anywhere near as “talky” as I was last night. Who am I kidding? I can always find words. But seriously, fellow moms, we need regularly scheduled girlfriend conversations, if nothing else, so that we can find our “stop talking” buttons when we do have the opportunity to interact with other grownups.

Kellie is one of the bloggy buddies that I’ve admired from afar even before we began our computer conversations. As excited as I was to meet her, I was also just a little bit nervous. The junior high girl who lives inside my head who desperately wants the cool kids to think she’s cool, too, may have made a brief appearance as Sus and I got ready to meet Kellie at the restaurant. But as soon as we met, the conversation flowed freely and easily over dinner and coffee as if we were three friends that simply hadn’t seen in each other in a few weeks. As we talked about the seemingly random  (if I believed that anything was “seemingly random,” that is) events that introduced Kellie to Meredith (a giveaway contest, of all things) who introduced Kellie to Sus and then me, I marveled again at the sweetness of a God who understands that the female heart needs to be understood and is nourished and strengthened through relationship with other women.  Once again, I was so happy that Kellie sounded the way she sounds in my head when I read her blog and she is as beautiful, classy, and gracious as I had imagined she would be. I only wish that time hadn’t been stuck on fast forward. The evening ended way before I was ready for it to end. I hope that this was only the first of many dinners full of talking and laughing and eating.

Today’s been a slow and leisurely day at CPQ’s house. Just the way we like it.

Oh, hey! Check out my new blog feature! It’s a news crawl!!

BREAKING NEWS……BREAKING NEWS…..Ms. New Every Morning will be in the neighborhood later this afternoon and will be stopping by to say, “Hi!”…..Whimzie is reportedly thrilled at the news of an unexpected meeting of another new blog friend……Mr. CPQ continues his obsession with all things Honduras-related…..Michael Jackson is still dead……

(I think that last one may have been too much and not in good taste. I apologize.)

So, if you’re in the neighborhood, come on over! The party will still be happening, I guarantee it! But if you can’t be here, don’t worry. We will not have fun with Alice.

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An Open Letter to the Greater Boston Area

Dear Boston and Friends,

Tonight I’m  sitting in a hotel room somewhere close to Washington, D.C. It’s a beautiful hotel, one of the nicest ones I’ve ever seen, and this is an amazing city, but I’m not as happy here as I would have imagined.  My heart feels a little bit sad tonight because I’m missing you.

Last night we didn’t make it into town soon enough to go see the fireworks display on the Mall. Instead we watched the celebration live on TV. It was quite a show, but I couldn’t help but compare it to the fun we had last year with you. Shortly after the program was over, I turned the channel and there you were. CBS was broadcasting the fireworks display live from the banks of the Charles River. I looked into the faces as the cameras panned through the crowd and remembered the way I felt when I was one of them last year. You really know how to throw a birthday party! I remember the way that it felt like the fireworks were actually exploding in my chest during the finale last year. It literally took my breath away and it was so beautiful that I cried.  Last night I cried again. But I cried because I just really missed you.

When my husband told me we’d be moving to Massachusetts for a year, I knew it would be a wonderful experience, but I had no idea I’d fall in love with you the way that I have. You see, in case you couldn’t tell by this ridiculous accent, I’m from the South. Don’t misunderstand me; that’s not an apology. I’m very proud of my Southern heritage and appreciate my roots.  I always found it amusing that almost everywhere I went, in the middle of people speaking Mandarin, Spanish, Farsi, and Italian, my southern accent was the one that people noticed. But after awhile, I think I began to enjoy that my dialect set me apart a little bit. I don’t feel as special here in D.C. Right after we drove into town, I ran into a lady in the elevator. The minute she started talking, her southern accent almost sounded like a foreign language to my ears! For the first time, I think I might have heard what you heard whenever I opened my mouth. Southern accents are a dime a dozen where I’m going. No one will stop to listen to me talk just because they like the way I say things. Yeah. I’m really going to miss you.

I’ll miss having a history lesson everywhere I go. I’m glad I never stopped feeling amazement at the opportunity to stand in the middle of  what were the beginnings of this country that I love. I think my time with you has made me love my country and the people who were its founders more than I ever did before. I have developed a new love for history and plan to continue as a student of my country’s early days. I have a list of good biographies and history books that I can’t wait to read. I think the events will mean more to me now that I’ve seen where they took place.

The air conditioner in my van will miss you, too. It actually had to work yesterday. I don’t think I used it very much the whole time I lived in Massachusetts. I’m a little bit miffed at you, by the way. As we packed up the van to get started on our trip yesterday morning,  I couldn’t help but notice the sunshine and the warmer weather. You’d been holding out on me for the last few weeks. I can’t stay mad at you though. You gave me four of the most beautiful seasons I’ve ever seen. I loved your warm, sunny, summer days with nights that were still cool enough to need a jacket.  I loved the delicious bounty I found at your farmer’s markets. I’ll never forget your amazing fall colors that made the trees look like they were on fire. Last fall will always mark the time that I realized that no apple in the world tastes better than the one you pick from the tree yourself. I loved every minute of the snow and the weather that gave us great excuses to snuggle together at home and not leave the house for days. I’ve now become a maple syrup snob and will never taste it again without remembering the trip we took to the sugar shack. Your tulips and hydrangeas and the beautiful floral and green smells of spring will stay with me forever. You are truly a beautiful place to live.

You really spoiled me with all of your conveniences. I’ll miss Trader Joe’s, Whole Food Market, Costco, and Sephora. I’m already hungry for P.F. Chang’s, Joe’s Two,  and Five Guys. I ran out of time before I ran out of places to eat and shop! Maybe my waistline will be smaller and my pocketbook will be larger now that we’re no longer together.

I’m not sure how it happened, but sometime over the year, I became a diehard Red Sox fan. Is it possible to watch a game in Fenway Stadium and leave not  become a Red Sox fan? I will never be able to hear “Dirty Water” or “Sweet Caroline” without thinking of you.  I’ll be cheering for you guys! (Unless you’re playing the Braves; like I said, I’m still a card-carrying Southern girl!)

I could write pages about all the things I’m going to miss about you: the college kids, riding the T, the Bernie and Phyl’s commercials (Quality, Comfort, and Price…That’s Nice!). I’ll miss my favorite news people: Harvey, Ed, and Heather, and the way the reporter Jorge Quiroga says his own name. I’ll miss the Waltham YMCA. I’ll even miss waiting for someone to turn left without waiting for the arrow the minute the light turns green.

Most of all, I’m going to miss your people. I’ve grown accustomed to their quirky New England ways. What I once thought of as abrupt and maybe less than tactful, I now appreciate as honest. I always know where I stand with your guys. I love that you all say what you’re thinking and then you’re finished and we can go on as friends. You don’t play games or hold grudges and I’ve grown to appreciate that about you. I’d like to think that I’m less likely to pretend I mean something when I really don’t because you’ve taught me to be more truthful. I wish I’d been able to teach you a little more about how to initiate small talk. It’s really not that difficult and I think you’d enjoy it once you got the hang of it.

A few friends were especially difficult to leave. I’m so glad I found my little church in Cambridge. I felt like a dinosaur the first few weeks as one of the oldest attendees, but I think hanging around all those young college and grad students who still have so many dreams and plans ahead of them made me feel younger than I am. I’m also leaving a few special friends with you who  are particularly dear to me. Because we move often, I have to make a conscious choice to make myself available for friendships, especially when I know I’m only in a place for a short time. Somehow this time it was as if God knew I was going to need deep-rooted friendships so He fast forwarded the process for me. I think He used a Miracle Gro for friendships, if you will. It’s hard for me to believe how quickly Brandy, Connie, and even Brandi became such important parts of my life. I can say without hesitation that it’s possible to make lifelong friends in only a matter of months. I’m so blessed to have those women in my life.

I think I’m realizing that every time I have to move, I leave part of my heart in each city I have lived. I would feel cheated if it weren’t for the fact that every time I leave a city, I take a part of it with me in my heart. It’s a trade, and I think I’m the one who gets the best end of the deal. So I don’t tell you goodbye, because if God allows me, I will be back again to at least visit from time to time. And I will forever be very proud that, for at least one year anyway, I was from Boston.

Missing you but so very grateful for our time together,

“Whimzie”

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Some Sad News to Report….

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Guess what I just heard? Ray the Mover is dead. Yep. He died last year. His son Chip is in charge now.  I was talking to Eric, who is one of our movers, and he broke the news to me. Even though I never knew him, this news makes me feel a little sad and unsettled. Unsettled? Yeah. That’s a good descriptive adjective for this week. But the packing is going very well, thanks for asking. In fact, the packing is almost finished. 

Eric’s from Florida, by the way. He lives in New Hampshire and he really misses Popeye’s chicken.  I Googled it for him (because that’s what I do) and found out that Boston has a Popeye’s, so I feel like I did my good deed for the day. You’re welcome, Eric. Sorry I couldn’t help you out with a closer Sonic. One of our other movers felt a little left out of the conversation, I think, so he was telling us about how much he enjoyed grits when he visited the South. I then asked him if he’d ever had shrimp and grits. He sheepishly admitted that he hadn’t. So, BOOYAH! That’s one more point for the South. Not that I’m keeping score. Of course, he then told that many times when he was visiting the South and told people he was from New Hampshire, the people would then ask, “New Hampshire? What state is that in?” He’d answer, “New England,” and they were very satisfied with that response. Sigh. We may eat well but our geography could use a little work. 

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Speaking of New England, it’s been a rather dreary spring and summer here. Have I told you this already? Stop me if I have. I forget who I’ve told what these days. I’m turning into one of those old people who forgets what she’s told you and talks about the weather too much. So if I’ve already told you this, my apologies, but did you know that this June was the gloomiest June in this area since 1903? The average temperature was around 60 degrees, which is the fourth coldest since 1885. I think Boston’s sad that we’re leaving. New England hates to see us go and can’t keep those emotions inside. I’ll miss you too, Boston.

Don’t misunderstand. I’m not complaining. I’m loving the cooler temps. We still haven’t used our one little air conditioner unit. Meanwhile, in the hot and sticky South, they’re expecting to break some records of their own this weekend, except they’re breaking records for the hottest recorded temperature for the July 4th weekend. I keep trying to get the kids ready for the big weather change that’s getting ready to happen in our lives. They have no idea what we’re facing. But we’ll be close to family and good friends and we’ll be thankful for the air conditioners that are found everywhere in the South.

Oh! I almost forgot one more funny story! I was talking to the mover who has tasted grits and somehow we got on the topic of different religious denominations and the like. He was saying that after his parents divorced his mom became a Jehovah’s Witness. He then said that his dad had mellowed out over the years but he used to be part of a really controversial group. “They ride bikes, need I say more?” Apparently he did need to say more because I thought his dad had become a Mormon. Apparently his dad didn’t ride those kind of bikes. He rode these kind of bikes:

images-2(That’s not his dad, by the way.) Not these kind of bikes:

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His dad was a member of the Hell’s Angels! I was a little confused. It also explains why he looked confused when I told him about my friend who used to live in Utah. Anyway. This story illustrates how even people from the same country need the help of a translator from time to time.

We may or may not be unplugging tomorrow (in case you haven’t figured, we don’t deal much in certainties around these parts), so I thought I’d stop by today for a quick hello. I hope we’ll have the laptop up and running in D.C. but it has not been playing well with others this week so it may be in time out. I hope not. I try to keep up via the cellphone, but everything is very small there. I hope you all are well and that wherever you are, you’re experiencing comfortable temperatures.

Hey, guess what? A new friend in the computer, Brittany Ann, dedicated a workout post to me, Whimz. (I’m completely okay with that nickname Britz!) I know! A workout post for ME! If you’ve read this post, you’ll understand what a big deal this is. She answered some of my workout questions. Thanks so much, Brittany. It’s like having my own personal trainer! It’s probably best that I have a long distance personal trainer. I might be a little too much for a trainer to handle live and in person.

OH! I almost forgot to tell you just one more thing and I don’t want to leave stuff out in case I don’t get to come back for awhile. I’ll forget what I was going to tell you (please see the paragraph about the oldness and the forgetting.) My friend Gretchen is one of my friends who lives in my computer. Today she came OUT of the computer! She called me and we actually had a voice-to-voice conversation. She sounded exactly like she does in my head. This is very important to me. If she hadn’t it would have been the equivalent of reading a book that is later turned into a movie and the casting people chose the wrong characters. They don’t sound or look like they did in your head when you read the book and it’s very unsettling (there’s that word again!) But Gretchen sounded just the way she sounds when I hear her voice in my head. I’m so thankful that God gave me Gretchen and I believe with all my heart that one day God is going to let us meet in the real world (if you can call this stuff that surrounds us daily the “real” world. I think it’s the fake Narnia, myself. Shout out to my C.S. Lewis peeps, HOLLA!)  Okay. I’m out of here. I’ll try not to blog while under the influence of packing anymore.

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