re{ life’s made up of choices

Everything in this room is eatable. In fact even I am eatable, but that is called cannibalism my dear children and is frowned upon in most civilizations.

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971)
wonka.jpg

f.y.i.: the 1971 version is the far superior media account of chocolaty goodness on film

re{ I blog, therefore I am [5 reasons why I blog]

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this here re{post is in honor of 2 full years of blogging. congratulations world, you’ve had the honor of glaring at the inside of my mind for 24 months. Prior to blogging, to experience this I would have had to succumb to a lobotomy. For this, I both apologize and bow…

awkward segue…5 reasons why i blog…

  1. Misery loves company. I frequently experience information overload and automatically assume you have ventured here to swim in this endless sea of TMI
  2. External Processor. Nope, this isn’t some type of computer guru Intel oriented blog…it’s more-so focused on my necessity to process externally, i.e. I tend to work out my thoughts aloud, in groups or on paper rather than the personality of an “internal processor”, as it were, who tends to need alone time to quietly process information. People process differently. I’m an “external processor”, hence this blog.
  3. Connecting minds with words and pictures. When I was little, the only books I enjoyed were the ones with pictures on every page. Who am I kidding; even in grad school I get excited when there are graphs and charts that take up the majority of my required readings. The people I’ve met through the wonderful world of blogging are interesting, fascinating and unique creatures. I figure, since they’re lending to my interests in their posts and pics, I may as well return the favor.
  4. Ninja training. Ok, I have no interest in ninjas nor training to be one. I just figured it was a good reason to blog.
  5. Procrastination is a…beauty. This is my outlet to delay, defer and put off any and all possible notions to maintain/sustain/retain productivity. As noted in an earlier post, isn’t procrastination a great efficiency booster?


I play favorites {what time is it again?}

who knew

I recently came across one of the best-written posts about time zones. Alright. It’s the only post I’ve ever seen about this causal delineation on this life-giving sphere of ours, but still…

…I have only known the zone affectionately declared as “EST.”  A zone where other time zones are upset when you twitter who won American Idol and Survivor and talk about the latest episode of The Office.  Yes, we are the ones who spoil your weeknight entertainment and turn your “Must See TV” into despair & detestation.  To other time zones, we are the ten o’clock news on your local fox station (Everything else is just history).

Alas, all other time zones are afforded the fine opportunity of celebrating New Years longer than those living in the land of EST and to that, I tip my streamered party hat and give a hearty blow on the party favor to you, my CST, MST & PST friend because even though we have the big ball in Times Square, you have the ability to party 1, 2 or even 3 hours longer than we do and when it’s 12:00AM on the east, your just starting to get your groove on in the west…

Friends, it just doesn’t get better than that.

And who is the wizard behind this epochly composed curtain of humanity and the timex?

Curious? Check out the complete post here

You say “avocado”, I say “oohhh…mine”

There are some things you learn through your not-so-well-monologued wonder years that you don’t realize the implications until they punch you in the neck.

Today, I experienced what one may call a “knuckle-sandwich to the nape”.

I remember being maybe 11 years old—i.e., young enough when one hour feels like 3 episodes of Night Court and old enough to smell the onset of unavoidable-parental-induced humiliation.

We were driving in our well-loved Dodge caravan (was there any other? We once stuffed 17 kids into that baby blue convoy); it was my mother (aka “joj”) and the three of us girls heading home from either a sport event or ice cream…we rarely strayed from what we already confirmed was unequivocal goodness. And she spotted it! An entire 7-piece dining room set, impeccably staged in the tree lawn no more than 10 houses down from our own. She slowed down, inching her way to a complete halt as each of us girls unblinkingly stared straight ahead, knowing just what joj was thinking. “Out.” She says. “Each of you grab a chair, we’re taking this thing home!” She was so excited. We were so humiliated.

Walking the sidewalk as a pirate’s stilted plank, each step spitefully brimming with chagrin, the three of us girls grabbed a wooden chair and warily teetered the ten houses back to our home. We each walked this plank of degradation twice. Yes. Twice. And that night, we sat at our “new” kitchen table; thankful it was over and thankful that the experience was left in my callow.

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So we’re here. 2009. A year full of politics and the effervescent mortality of Hollywood. My slice and I were driving back to the house after running errands in preparation for our much anticipated move….and what do we see just three doors down the road? Why yes, yes it was a set of vintage avocado green pleather dining chairs just perfect for our fantastic pedestal table. We walked to the neighbors, engaged in some hearty dialogue and peppered in the request to capitalize on the thing of beauty sitting idly on their tree lawn. Golden! Mark and I each cradled a chair and began the short journey back to the house. It is at this point, when armed with such banqueted delight that I recognized that while some call it “trash picking”…others might see it merely as “atypical design”.

we three chairs

one and only

me and my newest find

more than a name {august-bring on the heat}

August istock_000001754261xsmall-300x219

I’ve found that this one month holds more in its name than a german son after autumn’s feast.

It is a month of last minute calls to life in the haven of waning summer…last minute smores, last minute school shopping, last minute ambition to make something of 2009 before the rest of the year is taken captive by premature holiday decorations and reviving the world of tacky Christmas.

Bring it on, Hallmark! We’re ready to express gratefulness for lessons learned and the ability to make a beautiful thing out of the simplicity of a graham cracker, the goodness of a marshmallow, the impeccability of a piece of chocolate and a little bit of fire!

re{ this never-ending search for the quintessential utopia…home

holy hell

In one month, we will be piling Einstein & Archimedes into our car, a.k.a. “Miles” and traversing great terrain to reclaim our futures. Oregon…we may not be graceful, we may not be cool, but ready or not HERE WE COME!

So, this here re{post is one due to it’s incredible applicability to life right now…a cross country move most certainly makes one rethink the definition of “home”….

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original post (august 1, 2007) 

Psalm 90.1 NLT
Lord, through all the generations
you have been our home!

“Lord…you have been our home”.
Moses is saying this…yeah, Moses…this is the guy who traveled in the desert w/ tons of complaining, foul, obnoxious and a bit overly dramatic people for 40 years. 5 hours in the car w/ 2 or more kids can make almost anyone wish tranquilizer darts came in travel packets. Talk about fanatical nomads!

So many of us are on this never-ending search for the quintessential utopia of places to call home…a place where everyone uses their blinker, gas is cheaper than $2/gal, pretentious people travel only in groups so they’re easier to hunt, and there is no need to go to the “other side” b/c your grass is already greener. So, what would happen if in my life, my parent’s lives and my future kid’s lives, we finally begin to realize that God has been our home…God, the majestic, the holy, the politically incorrect, the relevant, the sacred, and the one who shakes my core? Now, I think that’s a good idea.

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