A Thankful Heart

Today is Thanksgiving and, hopefully, we all like to talk about everything we are thankful for on this day.  We list things like health, family members, friends, shelter, transportation, jobs, etc.  But, do we remember to give thanks to the One from whom all good things come?  I try to live each day with a thankful heart and I even recall praying as a teenager that I would never take for granted all the good things God did in my life.  We have even more to be thankful for if we live a life of obedience to God because He blesses us even more.  That topic is definitely a blog post for another day, but I am assured that even when things in my life don't go the way I expect them to go; I know that if I'm living a life of obedience then God will bless me and change my situation or change my attitude about it.

Of course, being me, I'm also thankful for the little, crazy things in my life.  I'm thankful for whoever invented leggings and that they are still in style this year.  I'm thankful that my adventure into the land of having red in my hair has now faded nicely to a normal color--and I'm thankful that when I first got the color done I could laugh it off when people thought I had done it for the Cardinals.  I'm thankful that I have the kind of husband who searched high and low to buy me my favorite perfume for Christmas last year when it has been discontinued.  I'm thankful for sales and coupons at my favorite clothing stores.  I'm thankful that Lindy and Jac were OK when they hit someone in MY CAR.  (This is the second new to fairly new car of mine that Lindy has wrecked in our marriage.  He's also side swiped one vehicle of ours with another and taken off part of the siding on our garage from pulling in to close to the side...and they talk about woman drivers.  Just saying).  I'm thankful that he lets me tease him about stuff.  Trust me, it goes both ways.  I'm thankful that I have a 12-year-old boy who still lets me hug and kiss him.  I'm thankful that I have a 9-year-old boy who will still sit on my lap--on occasion.  I'm thankful that I have a 5-year-old boy who snuggles my neck, sighs contentedly, and says, "I love that smell."  I'm thankful for all these things and so much more.  It would be impossible to list them all and not leave someone or something out.  Instead of having my own exhaustive list I want to close this post with the words of the psalmist, David--sort of.  This is Psalm 111 from "The Message" bible.  If you don't read the Bible at all or if it doesn't make sense to you, try out "The Message."

Psalm 111

Hallelujah!

I give thanks to God with everything I've got--

Wherever good people gather, and in the congregation.

God's works are so great, worth

A lifetime of study--endless enjoyment!

Splendor and beauty mark his craft;

His generosity never gives out.

His miracles are his memorial--

This God of Grace, this God of Love.

He gave food to those who fear him,

He remembered to keep his ancient promise.

He proved to his people that he could do what he said:

Hand them the nations on a platter--a gift!

He manufactures truth and justice;

All his products are guaranteed to last--

Never out-of-date, never obsolete, rust-proof.

All that he makes and does is honest and true:

He paid the ransom for his people.

He ordered his Covenant kept forever.

He's so personal and holy, worthy of our respect.

The good life begins in the fear of God--

Do that and you'll know the blessing of God.

His Hallelujah lasts forever!

Need I say more?  Have a wonderful Thanksgiving and remember to give thanks to the One who gave it all for us.

My Dad is Turning 80 Years Old...And This is What I Think He Would Say It's All About

This is my Dad as a handsome young guy in the Navy.
Fitting since his birthday is two days after Veteran's Day.

I can't believe my Dad is turning 80 years old on the 13th.  He doesn't really seem "old man" to me so it's a little difficult to wrap my brain around this milestone.  Of course, since I was born when he was 40 years old...I'll let you fill in the blank with what that means for me next year.  I wrote quite a bit about my Dad back at Father's Day so rather than writing about him as a person I thought I would try to put myself in his shoes and write about the heritage he has created in his 80 years.  If you were to ask him what his life has been all about I believe he would say that this is what it's all about.

So, what is this?  Is it having lots of money?  While he's been frugal, smart, and conservative with his decisions about money I don't think he would agree that he has amassed a great fortune in monetary wealth or that this is what it's all about.  Is it having advanced degrees?  While he had a double major in college and graduated at the top of his class and then pursued classes towards a master's degree I don't believe he would say that this is what it's all about.  Is it pastoring a mega church if your calling is to be a pastor?  I'm positive he wouldn't say that was what it's all about.  Would he say that it's about still having all of your own teeth when you turn 80 years old?  I don't think he would say that this is what it's all about--although I think he would want you to know that he does, indeed, still have all of his own teeth.   Rather than come out and tell you what I think he would say, here's an illustration that will demonstrate my opinion.  

My three boys attend public school because it's free and because my husband and I feel that the best way to be the light in a darkened world is to actually be in the darkened world where we can be the light.  This goes against the opinion of private schoolers, Christian schoolers, and home schoolers.  I'm cool with that.  People make their own decisions about their own children for their own reasons.  Our kids happen to be both well-adjusted and emotionally mature, and relatively unscathed from their public school experience thus far.  My husband's and my parents had both of us and our siblings attend public school.  I'm sure it was for the same reasons, but especially because of the "free" part.  I know that neither of our families could have afforded private or Christian school.  So, they prayed that God would protect our bodies, minds, and spirits and sent us on our merry way.  We do the same with our children.  On the one morning each week I am actually able to see my boys out the front door I pray for them and ask God that they would "shine the light of Jesus to everyone around them."  And, "shine" they do.  The two boys of mine who are old enough to actually write and put sentences together incorporate Jesus or church or something about their faith into everything they turn in at school.  We have never suggested or encouraged them to do this.  I don't believe Jac and Ethan ever discuss this either.  For years they have brought home paper after paper and assignment after assignment and art project after art project that incorporate their faith.  I don't save a lot of them, but I saved this one that Ethan brought home recently.  He was asked to write a paper titled "My Favorite Place" and it was supposed to include each of his five senses and how his favorite place related to his senses.  So, here you go.  Keep in mind when you read this that our church is on 16 acres and he was apparently thinking of Wednesday night at church when there is dinner before church starts.

My Favorite Place

by Ethan Carnett   

     My favorite place is church.  Here are some things outside my church that make my senses explode.  First, two of the things I see are a jump house and a bunch of kids.  Next, I hear bugs and snakes.  Then, I smell the woods and good food.  When I go inside I taste funnel cakes and fried Oreos.  When I'm there I feel like I'm at home and I feel needed.  Now you see how my senses come alive at my church. 

Obviously, you can guess that my favorite part is what Ethan says he feels when he's at church.  That's the way I wish everyone would feel when they are at church.  Knowing that they are at home and that they feel needed might actually make people who don't go to church want to go to church.  That's what church should be--a family that makes you feel at home and has something for you to do so that you feel needed.  It's ironic that our church motto or slogan or whatever they call it is "A Place to Call Home."  A 9-year-old boy feels it.  I think other people do too.  Never have we had to make our children go to church or force them to go.  There is no battle about church--and we are there early and stay late.  They love to go because of the reasons Ethan mentioned and because they have their own love for the things of God.  That is what was instilled in us as children and that is what we are cultivating in our children.

Ethan is only one of my Dad's six offspring--between his two children and four grandchildren.  The beautiful part is that all of Dad's offspring, including his daughter-in-law and son-in-law are part of the wonderful heritage he has prayed for over his 80 years.  We all love Jesus and each other and are peaceful and content in serving God.  We are blessed and our blessings are no accident.  They are promises found in God's Word that are there for anyone who is called a child of God and has truly made Him their Lord and Savior.  Lindy often says, "Everyone wants a Savior, not as many people want a Lord."  It's about living your life in submission to God's will and not your own.  Our family's blessings are a result of a life dedicated to God and lived for Jesus and for us it begins with the leadership we have benefitted from in this person we love who is turning 80 years old.  

So, what would my Dad say that it's all about?  For him, I believe that turning 80 years old is only sweetness and light because all of his family has made Jesus their number one priority as he chose to do along with my mother many, many years ago.  This is what it's all about.

My New Hobby (Which Turned Out to be Lindy's Newest "Flavor of the Month") and Facing My Fears...Part 2

If you're new to my blog or you just haven't caught up lately you have to go back and read the last post for any of this one to make sense.  I'll wait while you go back and read it....  OK, now you know that my newest hobby is bicycling!!  You also learned why I am calling it Lindy's newest "flavor of the month."  The part I missed covering in the last post was facing my fears.  What does bicycling have to do with facing my fears?  Apparently, a lot, according to my husband.

I have to back up to Labor Day weekend where this story really begins, or continues, depending on your viewpoint.  Lindy and I had an actual three-day weekend with no children involved!!!  This never happens.  We sent the kids off to the other side of Missouri to see their cousins on Friday night knowing that we wouldn't see them until Monday evening.  I think it's the first time ever this has happened.  Thanks, Grammy and Papa!!  We did miss a cool Ronnin-designed kid's birthday party which is an event in itself, but we managed to survived.  Anyway, Lindy had purchased his bike the previous weekend and mine actually came in from California and was assembled on Friday.  Lindy went to pick it up and we ended up traveling around to several stores that evening to shop for bike accessories and out to dinner with my bike attached to the back of the van.  Lindy was sure he got several curious stares when he was by himself.  (You read the last post and saw the picture of my bike so you can understand why he would get a few sideways glances).  Once I was in the van with him, I just knew that people were looking at the bike, then seeing me, and saying to themselves, "There's the girl that owns that supercool bike!"  (Sometimes I make things more in my mind than they are in real life.  You do it too.  Don't fool yourself).  Anyway, we did joke about what people were saying to themselves when they looked at us.  That evening when we got home after 10:00 was the first opportunity I actually had to ride my bike, around the cul de sac in the dark.  Other than test riding bikes at bike stores I hadn't been on a bike for any length of time in 16 years.  Sixteen years, people!!  I was a little rusty.  I managed to stay on the bike.  The next evening Lindy and I rode about five miles total.  We rode to a little cafe and ate dinner.  When we walked in with our cool bike attire on and carrying our helmets there were some admiring stares and audible gasps.  (Again, I'm probably making too much of it, but I did hear people say, "Look at them.  They rode their bikes here."  That was probably the extent of their attention toward us).

The next day, Sunday, is when our adventure started.  Lindy and I decided that we needed to stay overnight somewhere on the Katy Trail and ride our bikes--a little biking adventure.  After much research, with him on his laptop and me on my iPad at the kitchen table (you already know we're nerds after reading the last post), we decided to go to Hermann after church on Sunday and stay in a bed a breakfast.  If you don't recall Labor Day or you don't live in our part of Missouri, just know that it was an absolutely picture-perfect, gorgeous weekend--weather-wise.  We drove to Hermann, walked around the downtown area (no offense to any Hermann-lovers, but Hermann has nothing on downtown St. Charles), and checked into our bed and breakfast.  We hit the Katy Trail at around 4:00 or so.  Now, keep in mind that the evening before when I rode about 5 miles was the most bicycling I had done in 16 years.  I am also not what you would call athletic, unless carrying heavy shopping bags counts.  I was a little sore already from the five miles the previous night.  So we picked a direction on the Katy Trail and started riding.  We had decided to see if we could make it to a landmark that was about 8 miles away.  That's right, people, we started the ride planning to go about 16 miles.  In my naive, bike-novice mind I must not have been thinking straight and I should have also expected that anything Lindy does he is going to push himself--and me--to do it better or farther or whatever.  That's just his nature.  The Katy Trail is little gravelly rocks--not a smooth surface.  It is a beautiful trail in that area but it felt as if we were going uphill.  We had already learned through research that the Katy Trail is "exceptionally flat."  Lindy tells me as we're traveling along that we're actually on a slight incline so we should be coasting on the way back.  It doesn't really matter how far we go because the ride back is going to be a breeze, according to him.  Since he's my husband and he's more of an outdoor person than me and he has a bike computer which I am imagining is telling him that we are headed up an incline, I persevere onward.  The picture from my last post is about 2-3 miles in to our journey.  Several miles along the route we come along a couple sitting on a bench.  We stop to chat and we mention that we're glad it will be downhill on the way back.  They give us a bit of an odd look and say that it feels like it's uphill both ways and it feels like you have a headwind both ways.  Interesting.  Undaunted, we decide--or Lindy decides--once we get to the landmark that is at the 8.2 mile mark that since we've come this far we should just see if we can go ten miles before turning around.  We did.  At the ten mile mark was a horse farm and we took these pictures so that was quite a nice little surprise.

On the way back, when we have to ride back every mile that we've already journeyed, is when the real fun began.  We're riding along and it feels the same way going back as is it did when we were outbound--like we were going uphill.  I say to Lindy, "I thought your bike computer said that we were going uphill before."  He says, "Oh, no, my bike computer doesn't have that function.  It just 'looked' to me like we were going uphill so I assumed the way back would be really easy and we would just be coasting."  Seriously? SERIOUSLY!!?  You brought me ten miles with the promise of an easy ride back and it's going to feel exactly like the ten miles out!  Needless to say, I was a little miffed at this point.  Had I been in better shape or been on a bike AT ALL prior to the last 24 hours it would not have been as big of a deal.  To make it an even better story, I fell off my bike and got a little banged up at about mile 14.  Here's a picture of that:

I learned later that Lindy had posted the nice, smiling picture of me on my bike to Facebook with the caption, "My hot wife on her new bike."  After my accident he took the picture above and posted, "My hot wife after she fell off her new bike."  So, the last six miles back were an effort in perseverance for me.  My booty was killing me, in spite of my "comfort seat" and my padded shorts.  My knee was hurting really bad and we only had water to pour on it.  My legs ached tremendously.  I was in bad shape and I had a hard time keeping up with him.  After the 20 mile journey was over, in which we argued about whether 20 miles bicycling was a big deal, I was not in a wonderful frame of mind.  We were riding for nearly three hours.  I understand that riding 20 miles to someone who bikes a lot is a piece of cake, but to me, in my condition, it was way too much.

We found a restaurant that was open and ended up waiting until almost 9:00 to eat.  We're still in our bike attire and I have a visible limp from my knee and yet undiscovered golf ball-sized bruise on my hip.  The next morning I was so sore I could barely move but the purpose of our trip was to ride our bikes, right??  So we went back to the same place and took off in the other direction.  So ensued much debate and arguing about how far we should go.  Lindy said if I would just keep at it I would work the soreness out.  At that point it wasn't happening.  We only rode about three miles before I told him I wanted to go back, which gave us only a 6 mile ride that morning.  Needless to say, we were not in a happy place with each other.  This is where the rubber hit the road, literally, and the truth started to come out.

Lindy notices that I seem really nervous and fearful on my bike.  This is where it stinks sometimes to be married so long to someone that they can tell what you're thinking and then call you on it.  He said I was so focused on analyzing the trail and looking for any obstructions and judging which was the best part of the path and staying far enough away from his bike and avoiding having another wreck and trying to look forward and not letting my attention stray from anything other than the trail...that I wasn't having any fun at all.  I was fearful and not allowing myself to enjoy any part of of it.  I hate it when he's right.  He was right.  I was absolutely doing all of the above in addition to being focused on my sore knee and sore bum and sore legs.  As we finished the ride and loaded our bikes and began the trip home the discussion, or counseling session, continued.  This is where the good and challenging part of being married to a pastor comes in.  Part of his job is counseling, and while I don't know most details of who he counsels and what he counsels them about; the one thing I do know is that he will tell you the truth.  He is not a sugar-coater.  He will not tell you something just because he thinks it's what you want to hear.  So, fair warning friends, if you seek out my pastor-husband for counseling be prepared to hear the truth.  His approach might vary from one person and personality to another, but he will still tell you the truth about yourself and your situation.  I know this from personal experience.

So, during this counseling session journeying from Hermann to home, he isolates my fears to outdoor activities.  Right again.  It does seem that I have a lot of fear about outdoor activities.  I've basically given up snow skiing and one of the main reasons is because of my fear of heights.  Standing at the top of the mountain and realizing I have to get to the bottom is alarming to me.  Lindy doesn't get that because my feet are planted on the ground the whole time.  It's not like I'm suspended in the air.  I also don't care for softball/baseball/dodgeball because I don't like the idea of possibly getting hit by a ball.  I'll cover my face with my glove before I dive to catch a softball that comes near me.  I got singled out in 4th grade by my teacher because I pretended to get hit by the dodgeball so I could sit out of the game.  Whoever invented a game where the idea is to just hit someone with a ball was crazy, in my opinion.  I'm not sure where I came by these fears.  My brother is one of the most fearless people I know and we grew up in the same house.  He did all kinds of crazy stuff.  I did remind Lindy in the midst of this session that he is fearful of the open-MRI machine and requires Xanax and me holding his hand to cope with the situation.  His defense there is that having an MRI doesn't interfere with his everyday life.

So, what was his solution for me?  He said that when you have fear there are only two options to get over it, "face it or pray it."  He asked me what was the most fearful thing I could ever think of doing.  After a moment, I said, "bungee jumping."  He says, "Then, that's what you should do.  Go bungee jumping!!"  Yeah, right.  I told him I was picking the "pray it" solution.  After further consideration a few days later, I decided that actually the most fearful thing I can think of doing is being in a room full of snakes, Indiana Jones-style.  Yeah, that's not happening.

I appreciate my husband for being one of the few people in my life who tell me the truth about myself.  Most people are too nice or too respectful to really tell you the truth--at least they are with me.  When you're a pastor's wife and you supervise the majority of the people that you work with in your Monday through Friday job, you can maybe count on  2-3 people in your life who will really be honest with you.   If you think about it, it's probably the same with you.  Most people don't have an abundance of people around them who feel comfortable enough or are intimate enough to really let you know the hard, uncomfortable truth in love.  If you have more than 2-3 then you are truly blessed.

On a lighter note, I counted on my friend, Bridget, to tell me if I had something in my teeth or if I was having a wardrobe malfunction, but she works in a different office now.  By the way, if I have something in my teeth please tell me.

I have decided to pray about my fears, and over the last 6 weeks or so, I have gotten more comfortable on my bike and I really enjoy it.  We try to ride as a family at least a couple times a week and even last night we rode 5.5 miles.  Lindy is still very much enjoying this "flavor" so I'm glad for that.  Our friends, Matt and Jenn, are jumping on the bike train and they picked up their bikes from the bike shop the other night!!  We can't wait to ride with them.  Lindy is also riding with friends and with the boys.  I hope this just continues on and on.

The positive side of riding 20 miles in one outing and 31 miles in one weekend is that anything less seems totally doable.  That was the gift that the 20 mile ride gave me, along with the honesty of my pastor-husband about things that I needed to hear.  By the way, I am one of his 2-3 people who are honest with him, but my blog isn't the place where I air his dirty laundry--just mine.

My prayer for you is that you find those 2-3 people who are willing to be honest with you, if you don't have them already, and that you deal with any fears you may have--by either facing it or praying it.  We're scheduled to go skiing in Vermont in February so I'm sure I'll report back about whether I skied or stayed in the lodge reading a book--which happens to be just as enjoyable to me.

Have a wonderful weekend.  :)

My New Hobby (Which Turned Out to Be Lindy's Newest "Flavor of the Month") and Facing My Fears

I wish it hadn't been so long since I've actually had the chance to sit down and write but the past five weeks or so have been completely nuts.  I've been out of town three times--all for pleasure--have been crazy busy at work, and have had lots of other fun stuff to do.  My new hobby is also taking up some of my time, which I don't mind, but all of this crazy busyness has gotten in the way of my writing.  Anyway, onward.

So what is my new hobby that has turned out to be Lindy's newest "flavor of the month?"  (I promise I will explain what is meant by the whole "flavor of the month" thing).  Most people who are in my real, every day life have seen the photographic evidence, others on Facebook have been subjected to the same photographic evidence, now it's time to go public.  I got a new bike!!!!  Here she is pictured below with me.  Isn't she pretty?

Her name is "Jenny."  That's right.  She has a name but I didn't name her.  Long story short, I had decided I wanted to get a bike so that I could combine exercise with spending time with my boys.  I have real issues with exercise and they go like this:  1)  I don't like to get up before the crack of dawn to exercise before work since I already have to get up at 6:00.  2)  I don't want to join a gym because I work and that just takes more time away from my family.  3)  I haven't been able to run since I was 15 and had a hairline fracture in my left ankle.  (I know all you die hard runners are laughing right now and it honestly is probably an excuse at this point).  4)  I would rather watch paint dry than to actually walk for exercise.  I am a tremendous multi-tasker and so to walk just to walk is almost unbearable to me.  I can't hardly watch television without folding a load of laundry or making a grocery list.  So, bicycling turned out to be something I thought I could do that would serve more than one purpose and I don't mind adding things to my life that have multiple functions.

So, the search for the right bike began.  If you know Lindy and me,  you know that we are both researchers, and since he loves research for the sake of research he was right in there with me.  He was also ready for a new "flavor of the month" so I wasn't surprised that he was right there with me.  We went to numerous bike shops, we searched the internet, we compared bike styles and functions, we sat in our loft area with me on the desktop computer and him on the laptop reading reviews aloud to each other.  (Isn't this insight into our exciting lives just absolutely thrilling)?!!  I knew already that I wanted a "comfort bike" with a large seat.  That's part of the reason I wouldn't ride the mountain bike that had been housed comfortably in our garage for the last 17 or so years.  I wanted a bigger seat and I knew I wasn't planning on actually "mountain biking" or bike racing so I found the perfect, beautiful bike for me.  (I am fully aware, Gia, that real cyclists will not take me seriously and I'm OK with that).  The picture doesn't do it justice.  It's turquoise with pink and white polka-dots.  It also has a white seat with daisies on it and pink spokes and a bell and...it is just so cool and, apparently so Robin!!  No lie, after I got it I had neighbors and strangers alike wanting to know how to get a bike like mine, test riding it, etc.  Even my gun-toting, deer-hunting neighbor climbed aboard and took her for a spin.  He even rang the bell!!  His wife and I were so wishing it hadn't been dark already so that we could have gotten pictures.  OK, I digress.  My bike is made by the company "Electra" which is out of California and I had to order my bike.  Honestly, they just don't have many beach cruisers in the middle of the country and each bike store has only one or two for you to even test drive.  I'm not going to go into the technology that makes my bike special, but you should know that it comes in like 15-20 different styles.  Mine happens to be called the "Jenny."

How does Lindy's newest "flavor of the month" play into all this?  Here's some further insight into my husband.  He gets bored easily.  Fortunately, he hasn't gotten bored with me or with his vocation, but other than that if he isn't learning something or trying something new or finding a new hobby to get involved in then he gets bored.  He doesn't like to read fiction like I do.  He wants to read something of substance that teaches him something.  He doesn't even like to read my blog unless it's about him or unless I include some lesson to be learned.  If I tried to list all of the hobbies and interests he's had over the years I've known him, it would be a list longer than my arm so here are the ones that have actually stuck with him:  Computers, skiing, gardening, and hopefully now, biking.  We've also gotten involved in various MLM adventures through the years like New Image vitamins (that one was actually me), Mona Vie, Visalus, etc.  He has gone through the phase several times of wanting to get involved in investing in real estate.  Each time a new flavor has come along to steal his attention away before he actually pulls the trigger on any houses (how's that for mixed metaphors), but I expect that one day we will own more than just our house and a timeshare.  The problem with the man, and you'll think I'm exaggerating here, is that he is just so talented that once he feels like he's learned something and mastered it he loses interest.  A little of that has rubbed off on me over the years, not the talented part, but having to master something.  When we were newly married a flavor of the month for him at that time was playing Tetris on the computer.  (We didn't have kids.  We had time to play games on the computer).  I had never even heard of Tetris but I wanted to learn to play so he taught me.  I became obsessed with getting better at it than him and so I played...a lot...until I had wiped out all ten of his top ten scores.  To this day, I don't think there's been anything else where I have actually been able to beat him.  Now I realize that by the time I was able to get good enough to wipe out his top ten he had already moved on to the next thing and left Tetris in the dust.  That realization just dawned on me as I'm typing this and I find that to be really funny.  Honestly, I wouldn't have Lindy any other way.  I wish I had some of the money back from flavors that didn't last very long, but I appreciate his need to be challenged.  He only had trumpet lessons as a kid.  He taught himself to play the drums, the guitar, and the bass guitar and those have stuck with him too.  He took piano in college, but didn't do well with that instrument.  He can play one song on the piano:  "Almost Paradise" from the movie "Footloose."  Don't ask me why because I don't know.  He's pretty amazing, but I guess I'm partial.

Anyway, once I got interested in buying a bike, and full disclosure here, I did tell Lindy that I would like for him to have a bike too so that we could ride as a family; he was ALL IN.  And when I say that Lindy is "all in" I mean that he is committed and he is going to have every accessory known to man to accommodate his new hobby.  So, as we settled on buying my bike from our friend, Bill, at the bike shop where he works, Lindy settled on the bike he wanted.  (Bill is married to my dear friend and employee of 11 years, Margaret).  You won't be surprised when I tell  you that we bought Lindy's bike and brought it home before my bike was even officially ordered.  Also, that day we bought a bike rack that holds four bikes for the back of the van.  That was a necessity.  Later that day...you knew there was more to this story, didn't you...Lindy was "adjusting" Jac's very-good-quality Honda bike that we realized was not adjusted well for him (we're bike people now after all, we know how to fit a person on a bike).  As Lindy took it on a little test spin he somehow ended up bending the frame.  The chain fell off and something else happened, I'm not sure.  It's all a blur right now.  Anyway, I ended up going to the pool (this was the last weekend in August) and off went Jac and Lindy to the bike store.  Of course, they called me while I was poolside and said that Jac's bike couldn't be fixed so Jac was getting a new bike.  This was fully expected by me.  Also, in the midst of all of this bicycle adjusting, Lindy realizes that ETHAN'S bike is too small.  Ethan needs a new bike now.  Back to the store they went (this was a few days later) and now Ethan has a new bike.  Gavin didn't get a new bike but he has learned to ride without training wheels since the last time I blogged.  Yea, Gav!!!  So, we are a cycling family.  Did I mention Lindy and his bike accessories?  I really shouldn't make fun of anyone else and their accessorizing, now should I?  But, I will anyway.  Granted, his birthday occurred in the midst of bikeapallooza, so I told him he could get a bike computer.  He picked one out and it tells you the speed, how far you've traveled, how long you've actually ridden on the bike, etc.  We all also have helmets, of course, he and the boys have the water bottle holders and water bottles from the bike shop, he has a black carrying case for the front of his bike, we both have bike jerseys and padded bike shorts.  Need I go on?  Oh, I also ordered a pretty white basket for the front of my bike but it hasn't come in yet.  Anyway, we are having much fun with bicycling and I honestly hope that this flavor of the month sticks.  It's good exercise, we can all ride together as a family, Lindy can ride with his friends, etc.

I mentioned in the title of this post that it would also be about facing my fears, but due to the length of this current  post, I'm going to make that discussion Part II.  So, you'll have to return later to read about what kind of fear I'm talking about, the equally good and challenging part of being married to someone who counsels others as part of his vocation, and the continued saga of bikeapallooza.  Hope you've enjoyed Part I.

Things I Would Tweet About If I Had a Twitter Account But I Don't, and I Won't, Because I'm Too Wordy and Because of Other Reasons

Sometimes I think of things; usually random, crazy things; and then I say to myself, "Hey, if I had a Twitter  account I would probably "tweet" that."  I don't have a Twitter account and don't plan on getting one.  First of all, I'm not someone who likes to have my phone on my hip at all times.  Second, I don't think anyone really cares about what I'm doing at any given moment of the day--especially what I'm eating for dinner, etc.  Third, and no offense here, I don't feel the need to be that connected with people that do have twitter accounts.  But, the biggest reason of all that I don't twitter or tweet or whatever is because I'm just way too wordy.  In fact, when I was a junior in high school in honors English I had a teacher who despised wordiness.  I don't think I got back a paper all year that didn't have "Too Wordy!!" written in red across the top of it.  Tweeting limits you to 140 characters and I am hard-pressed to express a thought in 140 characters.  I have to explain everything just to be able to paint the picture.  See, I've already used a whole paragraph to explain why I don't do something.  Honestly, my wordiness can drive my husband crazy at times.  If he's had a long day and I start in with a story, he'll just stop me and say, "Honey, headlines, please."  That's really hard for me.  I love to tell the story, whatever the story.  I guess that's why I have come to enjoy writing so much.  Speaking of Lindy, today is his birthday, and he will not like this post because it will have no lasting impact on the reader.  It is meant only to entertain and that is not good enough for him.  It's the pastor in him and that's OK.  So, if you want to read a beautiful post that was written just for him, you'll have to go back and read this one when I recorded our story that has been 20 years in the making.  When he read it after I wrote it he said, "What's not to like?  It's all about me."

So, here are the things I would have tweeted in the last week if I had a Twitter account, with explanation included, of course:

"You have to go in Gymboree at Mid Rivers Mall and check yourself out in the mirror at the back of the store."--Now, this week was not the first time I've noticed this mirror.  I've been going in there to peruse the clearance racks for my kids for years, but this mirror is fabulous.  Seriously, even if you don't have kids, if you live in the St. Louis area you have to go in this store and look at yourself in the mirror hanging in the back of the store on a door that goes to the back room.  It's by the clearance racks so it's convenient for me to catch a peek of myself while I'm shopping.  It is not a true mirror, so I'll be up front with you on that, but if I could take it home with me I would.  It will turn any day into a better day, and you'll leave with a spring in your step.  Let me know if you check it out.

"There's a fine line to be negotiated between plucking your eyebrows and waiting to get an eyebrow wax before a special event."  Eyebrow maintenance is something that I have only come to appreciate over the last ten or so years.  Prior to that my eyebrows were au natural, but since I noticed what a difference it made to actually groom them, I can't give it up.  Ask anyone who is into eyebrow maintenance and they will tell you the same thing.  I try to pluck once or twice in between eyebrow waxes and my wax lady recognizes my voice over the phone without me saying my name.  She does a great job, and she's really reasonable--read cheap.  The dilemma comes when you know you want to get them waxed before a big event so that they are nicely shaped, but you've waited too long to pluck in between waxings.  You see, there has to be some growth for the wax to adhere to and if you've plucked them too recently then the wax doesn't work as well.  Well, I am currently facing that very dilemma.  I need to get them waxed next Tuesday and I've been telling myself for the last three weeks that I needed to pluck.  I realized a couple days ago that I've waited too long and I've crossed that line of plucking too close to a wax appointment.  Please forgive me for the unshapliness of my eyebrows if you see me in person and let me know if you want my wax lady's info.

"I'm scared of electric staplers."  I guess that one was able to be communicated in a short, concise statement.  I don't really know why.  It's not like the stapler is going to turn on me and then I'll find myself being stapled to something, but it's always good to be cautious.  My brother would totally not relate to this because he's not afraid of anything like this.  He always made fun of me for being afraid of silly stuff.

"Should I break tradition and continue to wear white after Labor Day?"  This one is still up for debate and I haven't decided yet.  If you're new to my blog then  you probably haven't read my post on fashion that I wrote for my cousin, Cara.  I go into great detail about wearing white, and specifically, how to wear white. I may break out of my mold and venture out in white after Labor Day, especially if our 100 degree weather continues.  The jury's still out on this one.

"I learned this week that I can still sing all the lyrics to 'Diff'rent Strokes.'"  That's right.  I still got it, baby.  Why, you ask, do I know that I can still sing all the lyrics to a show that was broadcast 30 years ago?  I'm glad you asked, because of course there's a story to go along with this one.  Last summer when Gary Coleman died I was trying to explain to the boys about Arnold and Willis and their show and the line, "What you talkin' about, Willis??"  This was all news to them and I don't think a childhood should be spent without understanding the fine one-liners that came from 80s sit coms.  So, this had to be remedied, but obviously not right away because the first of the "Diff'rent Strokes" DVDs that I added to the DVD cue on Netflix finally arrived this week.  So, they started watching the shows, which last about 23 minutes when you're watching them without commercials, and I had plenty of opportunity to brush up on my lyrics.  About the 4th time through I had all the words down and Jac was learning them too.  I appreciate that about Jac.  He's my child that wants to know all, do all, be all.  Ethan had his ears covered.  Something I didn't realize before is that the first few episodes didn't have the "Ummmmm" at the end of the theme song.   They added that in later episodes.  I taught Jac to sing the "Ummmm" before he heard it on one of the shows.  If you weren't alive in the 70s and watching this show in the 80s then you will have no idea what I'm talking about.  You won't know about the "man with means" who took in the boys who "just had their jeans."  You gotta watch you some "Diff'rent Strokes."  The boys think the shows are hilarious but Jac was truly hurt to learn that most of the character's real lives didn't turn out as well as living in a penthouse apartment on the East side.

OK, last one.  "Gavin offers me perfume/cologne by asking me what I want to smell like that day--a horse, a lollipop, or an old man."  What????  The other morning I was getting ready for work and Gavin was "helping."  I had already put on scented lotion, which of course, couldn't be mixed with perfume that day, but he kept insisting that I pick a perfume/cologne to wear.  He asks, "What do you want to smell like--a horse, a lollipop, or an old man?"  I figured out pretty quickly what he meant by the horse and the lollipop but I was perplexed by which one looked like it would cause me to smell like an old man.  Here's a picture of the three perfumes/colognes to which he was referring:

Horse--obviously

Lollipop--I get that.  Doesn't it look like an upside down lollipop?

Old man--OK, not sure about this one.

Note to Lindy, apparently Gavin associates Lacoste with old man smell.  I'm not sure why.  Is it the bottle?   Is it the scent?  I'm not sure about this.  I passed on all three.

So, that's it for now.  Told you there would be no depth to this post.  Just purely for entertainment.

I hope you all have a wonderful Labor Day.  We're going to be without kids.  What???  Lindy and I are going to be participating in a hobby that started out to be mine, but has turned out to be his, and I hope it sticks with both of us.  More on that later.  Just know that when the Carnetts decide to get involved in something, we are all in.  We're all in--accessories and paraphernalia not withstanding.

The View From Here

This post has been taking shape in my heart over the last several weeks but I had a feeling all along that it would culminate today.  Why, you ask?  Because the thing I hear most loudly at this moment is a peaceful, yet unsettling silence.  I am alone in my house, and up until now, this has been a rare occurrence.  Fair warning to my readers, this post is determined to be transparent and I'm unable to keep it from being so.

I've spent a lot of time lately thinking about our view of life.  What do we see in our everyday lives?  What images do we take mental pictures of yet never stop to fully appreciate their impact on our ordinary day-to-day existence.  Our lives change and grow over time and what we did and where we went Sunday through Saturday 20 years ago, or 10 years ago, or 3 years ago, or one month ago might be completely different than what we do and where we go now.  I realized recently that since we have now lived in our current house almost nine years I have lived in this home longer than I have lived anywhere else.  Growing up, I didn't live in any house longer than six years and then I left for college, lived in Tulsa after college, married Lindy and we moved three times in the first six years of marriage.  We have lived in our now-yellow-previously white house for almost nine years.  I have worked in the same office for almost 15 years so you could say I've come to experience some real stability in my life.  But do I take time to appreciate the view?  I started capturing a few images, both mentally and photographically, to share in this post.

This is the view outside my garden window in my bathroom when it's 6:30 in the morning in mid-August.  This view changes throughout the year, but this is my view first thing in the morning.

This is the view outside the same window about 45 minutes after the first one.

Here is my view on my drive to our Washington office at around 7:30 in the morning.  I drive the back roads through Missouri wine country to get there.  Isn't it beautiful?  My drive to work at my main office isn't near as breathtaking.  I took my life in my hands to capture this shot while driving.  You're welcome.

This is the view from my hammock on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.  Definitely one of my favorite views.

This is the wonderful view that my husband envisioned and created in our backyard.  I get to see it from this vantage point a lot more often now that I actually go into the yard to take the dog outside.  That's a story for another day.

This is a different perspective on the same view.  My husband is the one with the green thumb and an
eye for the beautiful.

This is my view from our patio table overlooking the backyard.  I take in this view quite often as this is our favorite place to sit to when the weather is the least big cooperative.

This is the nighttime view looking in our back door.  I love this view most when I can see my family inside just doing what they do, being content and at peace in our haven of calm and safety.

This is my view of my oldest and youngest as  they warm my heart with their closeness.

This was my view of Gavin as I left him in his kindergarten classroom on the first day of school yesterday.  He's the one in the red shirt facing the door.

This is my view of my middle and youngest as Ethan gently guided Gavin on to the
school bus for the first time this morning.  He did this without being told and my boys warmed my heart once again.

This was my last view of Gavin as he waved to me through the Emergency Exit window this morning.

So, this post has brought me to today and my view from here.  I sent my littlest one off to school yesterday and today is the first day (as I am off on Thursdays) of spending a full day without children after 12 years.  It's been almost exactly 12 years because I went back to work four days a week at the end of August the year Jac was born.  You may read this post and only see the comparative insignificance to other events in our lives that require much more thought and insight.  But for me, I'm allowing myself a little latitude in acknowledging this event.  If you're my friend in real-life or a months-long reader of my blog then you know that I experienced a miscarriage back in April.  So this event holds extra significance as there isn't another baby coming to take Gavin's place in November as I send him off into the world of adventure that awaits him.  If you weren't aware of this, I wrote about it back in April but not since then.  

So, again, what is my view from here?  Well, having worked in hospice nearly all of my nursing career I have come to appreciate the value of perspective in our lives.  It is important to capture and appreciate the views that we see every day and possibly take for granted, but it's even more important to have a different view, or perspective when we look back over our lives.  For me, I feel like there is a new chapter opening itself up up in my life.  I don't know what it is but I believe it has something to do with writing.  More than anything, I want to encourage and uplift others, especially women, to be all that God wants them to be.  We are fearfully and wonderfully made, there is not one of us who was ever an accident, and we live way below the potential that God wants to reveal in our lives.  I don't know what it to come, but I my view from here is focusing on the wonderful things I'm anticipating and accepting the loss I experienced as just part of the view that shapes who God wants me to be.

Yesterday marked one year of writing my blog, and about 3-4 weeks after I started it I added a counter so that I could monitor the hits.  As of the writing of this post my blog has had 5995 hits in the last twelve months minus 3-4 weeks.  I was hoping to hit 6000 but 5995 is pretty close.  I know my writing is kind of all over the place, but I enjoy writing about what I'm feeling or experiencing or viewing at the moment.  I hope you enjoy reading it.  I get quite a number of hits but not many comments, but I plan to continue regardless.  Thanks to everyone in my real life who is so supportive and encouraging, and to my husband who tries not to give me a hard time when I have to sit down for three hours and type.  Sometimes it just has to come out when it wants to come out.

Love to all.

Swimsuit Fashion

No clever, catchy title for this blog post--it is what it is--a blog post on Swimsuit Fashion.  Before you go scrolling to the bottom of this post to catch glimpses of myself, my friends, or perfect strangers donning their swimwear, save your fingers the trouble.  My clever, catchy writing will have to serve as substitute for  digital images.  Trust me, I have plenty of pictures stored in my hard drive; I just know that unlike the phrase "What Happens in Vegas, Stays in Vegas" there's another sentiment known as, "Pictures on a Blog Do Not Necessarily Stay Nestled Securely on Said Blog."  I'm protecting you, my dear friends who have posed in pics with swimsuits on; nameless, topless women at the topless beaches of St. Maarten; and dear, old lady who chose to wear a white support bra under her red tank suit.  (More on her later).

All women I know, since I'm not friends with any super models, have a hate-hate relationship with swimsuits.  This is a shared phenomenon in Western culture.  This was clearly illustrated for me earlier on in the summer.  I was swimsuit shopping with Gavin in tow (he's five) and we were in Macy's...or was it Dillard's?  It doesn't really matter.  While I was browsing I was chatting on my cell phone with my Mom who had also been shopping for swimsuits.  (We were going on a beach vacation together, memorialized in my last blog post; and so, obviously, we had to shop for swimsuits).  Even if you have a swimsuit, or two, or three at home; you still have to shop.  You might just come across that one elusive, perfect suit that is better than any other that you currently own.  While I was on the phone Gavin was carrying on about how he didn't want to shop for swimsuits.  What five-year-old boy does?  When I hung up the phone a lady browsing the racks nearby said very astutely, "If he only understood that this is much more painful for us than it is for him."  So true, kind stranger, so true.

I've had many, many swimsuits throughout my years in a plethora of styles, patterns, and cuts.  There's a not-very-clear picture of me in my baby book from when I was about five.  Apparently, I had a bikini that year and had tanned so dark that my Mom took my picture, sans swimsuit, and it appears that I was actually wearing a suit.  I was not.  As a grammar school child my grandmother typically bought my cousin, Ellen, and me matching suits.  We were really cute and we spent lots of time at the long-since-closed water slide in New Iberia, LA.  My friend, Rhonda, and I had matching red and white striped swimsuits one year and we thought it was really cool that we ended up with striped tans.

I don't remember a battle over swimsuits with my mother when I was growing up.  Maybe we did, and I don't remember.  I was never allowed to wear anything too revealing and, now, as a mother of boys, I have compassion for my friends who are mothers of girls and have to do the dreaded swimsuit shopping with them.  Most of my close friends have the type of girls who have very wisely chosen modesty over immodesty.  I'll keep my comments brief regarding this, since I don't have girls, but if you want my true opinion on this, then you can refer back to my blog post on Fashion Advice  and refer to the last tip at the end of the post.  It's just as true for swimsuit fashion as it is for clothing fashion.  Let me just say that as a mother of a pre-teen boy and two others who are close behind, I applaud those Moms who invoke a sense of modesty for their young girls.

I have made some interesting swimsuit choices over time.  Once, when I was in college and traveled with a boyfriend to meet his family, I bought a new suit because we were going to the beach.  Unfortunately, the suit I picked was one where I had to squeeze out the padded top every time I emerged from the water.  Nice, and impressive, I'm sure.  Fortunately, we weren't with his family at the beach.  That was a cute suit.  If I remember right, it was a fruit pattern with a yellow background.  It was so 1993.

I tend to hold on to swimsuits and not let go of them until they just completely wear out.  I probably have 8-10 right now, but before your chin drops to the floor, you must know that the oldest of those suits is probably 15 years old.  It's a cute, skirted navy blue one piece that isn't maternity but I owned before I had kids and then wore during pregnancy.  For whatever reason, it's a favorite of Lindy's so I can't bring myself to part with it, even though I haven't worn it in years.  I know--weird, sentimental value in a swimsuit.  Likewise, for my lime green floral one piece suit with matching short sarong cover-up.  It was Nana's (Lindy's late grandmother) favorite and every time I would wear a different suit she would ask why I wasn't wearing the lime green suit.  I honestly don't know if she really liked that suit or if she liked that it was a one-piece and not one of my scandalous tankinis.  I bought that lime green suit in the postpartum phase after Ethan and I wore it to Panama City when Ethan was a mere six weeks old.  Those are beach pics that should never see the light of day.  I pulled out that suit once this summer and wore it to the pool.  It was so saggy that I told myself I should really trash it...but back it went in my closet to see another day.  The sentimental attachment to that swimsuit is akin to the attachment that I have to a bottle of nail polish remover that was Nana's last ever bottle of nail polish remover.  It was hers in the nursing home and it has her name written on it.  My mother-in-law gave it to me, I'm sure thinking that I would use it, but I don't.  It sits patiently next to the bottle that I actually do use, and will continue to stay there--probably long after it's evaporated.  Nana was veeeeeeeery meticulous about her appearance and her nails were always neat and polished.  This is a part of her which I cannot let go.  Once, when she was in the hospital, I went with my nail polishes and let her pick the color she wanted me to paint.  She picked "Devil's Food."  Lindy's family will probably laugh out loud at reading that.  It was an interesting pick for Nana and, later on, I bought her her own bottle of "Devil's Food."  But, I digress.  Back to swimsuits.

I have my own "What Not To Wear" photo illustration that I snapped with my cell phone back in 2007 in Myrtle Beach, SC.  Before you think I'm completely insensitive and tacky you just have to know that this lady's picture was begging to be taken.  I did not catch the elderly woman's face in the pic and I will not show it here to further protect her identity, but it necessitates description.  It was a red tank suit.  For all of my male readers, that just means one piece suit.  But, it had wide shoulder straps and it was cut low and open in the back.  Underneath her blindingly red suit she was wearing an equally blindingly white support bra.  Ladies, you know, the 18-hour kind that are built to be sturdy and supportive and hold the girls in place.  I never saw the front of the suit, the back was really all I needed to see.  My elderly, or well-endowed, friends; if your swimsuit requires a support bra it's time to go shopping for a new swimsuit.  Enough said.

Probably my most interesting swimsuit shopping trip was a couple years ago before my friend, Jenn, and I went to St. Maarten--the tropical island in the West Indies.  Lindy was with me--and we were without the boys--and he insisted on seeing each suit I tried on.  Ladies, I don't recommend this AT ALL unless you've been married for many years and you have an amazing amount of trust in your husband.  My husband learned long ago how to phrase his critique so he doesn't end up with a black eye or a bawling, squalling wife but it's still a very intimidating endeavor.  The swimsuits that actually look decent have to be 10%, at best.  He also somehow convinced me to let him take pictures of me in the swimsuits with his iPhone.  Yes, I'm not yanking your chain on this one.  How he convinced me I do not know, but he's been charming me now for more than half my life, so I guess he said all the right words.  Believe it or not, it ended up being a good thing.  I purchased four suits, with the intention of returning the two that didn't cut the muster once I got them home; and he made the decision much easier for me.  When we got home he loaded the pics on his Mac and then photoshopped a tan on me.  I immediately knew which suits would be traveling with me to the island.  Good idea, honey, even if you did have an ulterior motive.

My most recent memorable swimsuit shopping experience was earlier this summer with my mother.  She was swimsuit shopping, I was maxi-dress and halter dress shopping for vacation.  I was in an adjacent fitting room and we stepped out to show each other our respective choices.  Keep in mind that my mother is 70ish and has lost quite a bit of weight the last couple years.  While I have some HOT old black and white pics of my mother in swimsuits when she was in high school and college, she's not 20ish anymore, she's 70ish.  I'm known for having a way with words in that I can spin anything around and turn it into something positive.  However, this was the quickest thing I could come up with in the heat of the moment, "Mom, every part that the swimsuit covers looks great."  Now, that's not necessarily the kind of encouraging comment that a mother is looking for from her daughter, or vice-versa, or a friend is looking for from a friend.  She made it abundantly clear that this was not the sort of feedback for which she was hoping.  Honest, Mom, you are still hot for 70ish, but that's the best I could come up with on short notice.  She ended up leaving with two suits and she was very cute and stylish on the beach in her swimsuits, sarongs, and multiple beach hats.

Earlier this summer a high school friend of mine posted on Facebook that she felt like she was underdressed, or in the minority, for not having any tattoos to sport with her swimsuit.  I also fit into that category and I will stay that way.  I have noticed that in certain areas of the country, tattoos are almost required attire.  Take Branson, MO for example.  Go to White Water and you'll feel naked without permanent markings on your body.  I am fickle enough with my hair that I can barely handle wearing the same style for more than two days in a row.  Having something painfully imprinted on my body that will remain forever?  Forget about it.

If you're looking for the fashion advice part of this post on swimsuits here it is:  Wear a suit that is suitable for your body type.  There is a suit out there for everyone, but not every suit is for you.  If you wore a bikini when you were in college it doesn't mean that you can pull off that look now.  Everyone has different taste, so I don't plan on telling anyone what kind of suit they should buy, but I advise you to try it on at home before taking the tags off.  Most stores will let you return swimsuits if you have a receipt and the tags still attached.

My husband's swimsuit advice would be, at least for me, "Don't wear a 'Mom' suit."  What's a Mom suit?  From what I can tell that is a suit that has a skirt and is in some sort of displeasing pattern.  I have skirted suits that he likes, and one in particular, that he abhors.  It's black with white polka dots, and also white with black polka dots, and I have three different tops that coordinate with one pair of bottoms.  I love this tankini suit, and he can't stand to see me in it.  So, we compromise, just as we do with other things in marriage.  We buy both Miracle Whip and mayonnaise because I can't stand Miracle Whip and he can't stand mayo.  We buy two different kinds of toothpaste because he has to have a "paste" and I prefer the "gel."  Likewise, I wear the suit when he's not around (and tell my friends and acquaintances who compliment the suit that my husband says it's my "Mom" suit); and I wear my other suits when he is around.  See?  Compromise.  We are having our cake and eating it too.  That's what marriage is all about.

The bottom line, pun intended, on Swimsuit Fashion is to wear a suit that suits you, and wear a suit that suits you and your husband when he's around.  You should be getting pretty good deals on swimsuits around this time of year, if they aren't picked through.  Technically, the best time to buy a swimsuit for the best selection and the best deal is around 4th of July.  Happy shopping and happy swimming...or lounging...or relaxing in the pool trying not to get your hair wet.  I'll be handing out compliments when I see a suit I like.

Robin Interviews Robin about Her Trip to Destin

Well, it's not good enough to just tell the story of our vacation to Destin, Florida.  Of course, there has to be an interesting angle for communicating a vacation story.  I've chosen to interview myself so join me as I tell me about my trip.

How do the Carnetts entertain themselves on long road trips?
     Lindy and I don't have a great capacity for staying awake while driving on long trips, even when we don't leave early in the morning or late at night.  We're kind of light weights in that way.  So we left the house around 8:30 a.m. or so and by 10:30 a.m. Lindy was nodding off and needed me to keep him awake.  That's right, two hours on the road, and he's ready for a nap.  I was reading a book so I wasn't really feeling the pain.  Back in the day, when it was just Lindy and me; and waaaaaaaay before smart phones and navigation systems I used to keep him awake by using our old school travel atlas and asking him geography questions.  I know, we're nerds.  He's really good with geography and I can kill it on state capitols.  Now that we live in the 21st century I have him and the boys play "Name That Tune."  Specifically, they played Petra (I told you we're old school) and TobyMac "Name That Tune" on Lindy's iPhone with our Toothpik.  Lindy's a little better than Jac with Petra, depending on the particular album, and Ethan can kick both their patooties on TobyMac.  If you ask Ethan, there is no other recording artist.  I often catch him in our garage with his music blaring, dancing and singing with a broomstick as his mic stand.  (Don't tell him I said that.  It would really cut into the coolness factor of this kid):

   

I heard that you were going to see an old friend in Nashville.  Who did you see?
     I'm so glad you asked.  We saw my friend Kimmie.  Most mature adults probably just call her Kim and her students call her Mrs. Henderson, I'm sure, but college nicknames stick.  She still calls me Robbie.  I hadn't seen Kimmie since college so it's been a long time.  We are now both married and have five boys between us.  She has the most beautiful Bermuda grass, the kind that doesn't grow in Missouri--at least not in our yard--and her front lawn is like a golf course.  Her husband is as particular as mine about his yard.  Speaking of her husband, and I don't think she'll mind if I give a shout-out about him to my tens of readers, but his name is Jon Henderson and he is a songwriter in Nashville.  His office is on Music Row.  Way cool.  Whether you're a country music fan or not, I have to tell you that he has written some great songs.  The songwriting business is extremely competitive and tough to break through to the top, but he has a fabulous song on Brad Paisley's new album:  "This is Country."  If you don't buy the album at least buy his song, "Toothbrush."  It's a sweet little story and Kimmie said the first time he played it for her it brought tears to her eyes.  It did the same for me and he's not my husband!!  Anyway, buy the song "Toothbrush" and pray that it gets picked as the next single from Brad's album.  That's where the big money comes in--when your song gets picked as a single.  (See, I can call Brad by his first name and share all this cool information with you because I know about all this music business stuff since my friend Kimmie's husband is in the biz).  Of course, you know my husband had to contribute something to this discourse between Kimmie and me and he let Kimmie know that he comes up with all kinds of one-liners all the time that Jon could use in his songs.  Apparently, there's a phrase that her brother says that goes like this:  "Write a word, get a third."  So, Lindy was motivated to give as many one-liners as possible.  I told Kimmie that she had created a monster, but she said I could text her the lines and she would give them to Jon.  Hopefully, she's filtering them.  I texted her several times while we were in Florida.  Lindy's gone back to preaching now, instead of songwriting; although he has written a couple pretty good songs in the past.  Here's picture of me and my dear friend:

Here's a picture of us in college:

We haven't changed a bit, have we?  Sorry it's such poor quality.  I'm on the far left with the wild spiral perm.  Kimmie is second from the right with the mass of brunette hair.  I don't know exactly what we were doing, but I have a feeling it had something to do with dressing up for Monday night hall meeting in our dorm.  I've cropped the picture for public consumption.  I happen to know that at least one of the other girls in this pic reads my blog and all five of us are friends on Facebook, so we'll see how long it takes for them to comment...or send me hate mail.

What was the most exasperating part of your trip?
     Definitely, it was the traffic getting there.  Can I just say that driving south through Alabama to the Gulf coast on the Saturday of 4th of July weekend is extremely exasperating??  More exasperating than the traffic was listening to Lindy complain about the traffic.  The only real entertainment we had was in having fun joking about a lady in front of us on the Bay Bridge who didn't want her husband to let us in.  There was nowhere else to go, lady!  I was texting back and forth with Cayla, and being Lindy's sister she is well acquainted with Lindy's traffic impatience issues.  She told me to tell him to kill the time by looking for a traffic app on his iPhone.  She said there wasn't one but it would at least distract him and keep him busy looking for one.  Good tip, Cayla.  It worked for a little while.

Robin, what do you view as the "must have" items when going on a beach vacation?
     Well, most normal people would list things like sunscreen, beach towels, etc.  Not this girl.  Here are the two items I think you have to take to the beach.  Ready?  Bobby pins and tinted moisturizer with SPF.  That's right, hair and beauty products.  I do not like wet hair hanging on my shoulders so my preferred beach or pool 'do is a side bun.  Exhibit A:

I didn't capture it too well in this shot.  You can see my little messy side bun to the right, but you can see my two little ones and the gorgeous white sand in the background.  My friend, Dawn, reminded me after I published my last post about our staff retreat that my side bun lasted the whole day on the lake.  She said I am a walking advertisement for whatever hair products I use.  Dawn, it's really more about the strategically placed bobby pins than the product, although I am an advocate for using the appropriate product for your hair.  I use four bobby pins to be exact.

Since I know you all just can't get enough of my silly preoccupation with all things beauty, you must understand that you can't go to the beach without tinted moisturizer.  The one I have is by Mary Kay and it's fabulous.  No makeup needed.  Just put on your tinted moisturizer, a little lip gloss and you're good to go.  Just try not to get your face wet unless you carry your tinted moisturizer with you.  I can actually feel my face start to burn if I get it wet.  Not good.

What was the funniest part of your trip?
     That had to be snorkeling with my crazy 70ish mother.  She thought she was crazy for trying it, but I know she's glad she did.  She's a lot like her Mom in that way--trying things just to prove you still got it. I accidentally threw away the photo that was taken of Lindy, me, the boys and their Mimi in the water with all of our snorkel gear on.  I haven't had a chance to make a copy of hers yet.

I heard you went with your family.  Who went and where did you stay?
     We stayed in a beach house for ten and it was my family; my brother, Rob; his wife, Lisa; their daughter, Alex; and my parents.  The beach house was nice and we had a wonderful time together.  Here are some random photos of us enjoying our trip.  They are raw photos.  Lindy, the photographer, requires a disclaimer and they might not be the ones he would pick:

My Dad and Lisa

My Mom and Dad

Me and my boys

The pastor and his not-so-average wife

Our three stair steps

My sweet E--who I wish I could just keep the same age no matter what age he happens to be

My biggest handsome blue-eyed boy who is about an inch away from passing me up

A rare shot of my brother and me--and him smiling.  I get him to smile by repeatedly telling him not to smile.

Crazy boys

I told Lindy when he snapped this one that it was the "money shot."  Big blue eyed almost kindergartener.

Rob and his beautiful girls--Lisa and Alex.

Weren't you also seeing some of your extended family while you were there?
     Yes, we got to see my Aunt Elaine--my mom's sister; my cousin, Gerayne, and her family; and my cousin Lana and her son, Dylan.  Here are a few pics of them:

The Gav and Aunt Elaine

Me and Aunt Elaine

I wish you could see my aunt's eyes in these pics.  She has the most gorgeous tiger eyes--gorgeous green with brown flecks.  For my co-workers who see me wear my aunt's hand-me-down shoes--this is the aunt.  She is stylin'--always--and the one thing she had to make sure to do while in Destin was to go to a particular shoe store.  Lindy was the two Miss Daisies' chauffeur and he was a big hit with Aunt Elaine.  He's very charming and is great company.  Old ladies eat him up--no offense meant to my 70ish mother and her sister.

We didn't get any shots of Gerayne, but she was the first nurse in the family and she's gorgeous.  We did get a quick shot of my beautiful cousin, Lana, and me--aka Lana Banana.  Cousin nicknames don't go away easily either.  Here's Lana and me:

Still rockin' the side bun

Did any momentous events occur while you were in Destin?
     If you would count the last ever, supposedly, shuttle launch and the Casey Anthony verdict; then yes.  We happened to be in Whataburger eating lunch after our snorkel trip when I noticed what looked liked the verdict being read on the wall-mounted television.  I was on my way to our table when I looked at the TV, dropped my tray on the floor like a hot potato, waved my arms around and shouted to the whole restaurant, "Quiet people!!!  It's the Casey Anthony verdict!!"  Just kidding, I basically had little to nothing invested in this trial so I watched with only the slightest interest.  She's definitely guilty of being a neglectful mother who made really stupid choices in raising her child, but at the end of the day the prosecution didn't prove their case.  Just my opinion.  Even still, I figured since it was such a big deal in the media I needed to take note of where I was when the Casey Anthony verdict was read.  For the record, I was working at St. John in Tulsa on the oncology/neurology floor when the OJ verdict was read.  Most of us gathered in an empty patient room to watch together.

Were there any heart-touching moments on your trip?
     One of my favorite moments was watching Jac teach Gavin how to go all the way down to the bottom of the 8 foot pool and touch his feet.  He taught me too, by the way.  Apparently, the best way to accomplish this is to actually let out all of the air in your lungs before you try to descend.  If you try it while holding a full breath then you are too buoyant and you can't get to the bottom.  This nurse learns something new from her children every day.  Imagine that.

Any exciting moments?
     Well, I have to tell a little bit about my girlfriends' trip to Chicago last December for this one to make sense.  Deanna, Jenn,and I went to Chicago for a few days before Christmas.  While there, we spent four hours in a Starbucks one evening just chatting the night away.  During our time there, a homeless man came in and started asking us for money.  He homed in on me, maybe he saw weakness there, and Deanna had to be the firm one to get him to leave us alone.  (Don't mistake her firmness for a lack of compassion.  It was a slightly uncomfortable experience in a private business).  He was pretty insistent and didn't want to leave Starbucks.  After he left, I made the statement that, "Sometimes politeness gets in the way for me." I have a hard time forgoing politeness even while being harassed.

I remembered that statement one afternoon while Gavin and I were at the pool.  I was laying out and reading a book while keeping an eye on him.  I watched him let go of his raft and it got too far away for him to swim to it.  (His grandmother has taught him to swim from a very young age, but he can't swim far distances).  When he realized he couldn't make it to the raft he turned around to try to swim to the side.  He couldn't make it that far either.  I was watching him but wanted to give him the opportunity to solve the problem himself.  When I saw it wasn't going to happen I took off running across the concrete, yelled "Watch out!!" and jumped over some people in the pool to get to my baby.  I yanked him up out of the water, pulled off his mask, and he was screaming.  Some men in the pool tried to help me get him to calm down but there was nothin' doin'.  I was determined not to let him get out of the pool--you know, the whole getting-back-on-the-horse thing--but I eventually let him get out.  Within half an hour he was back in the pool, with his mask on, swimming all over the place.  Later on, when I was reflecting on this event I realized that I did not let politeness get in the way!!  Robin-in-her-right-mind would have certainly yelled, "Excuse me!!" before jumping over the people.  Robin-rescuing-her-child-from-drowning had no qualms about yelling "Watch out!!"  I was proud, but mostly just glad that Gavin had agreed to get back on the horse so soon.

OK, one more story, then I've got to close out this post that's taken me 3 hours to write and a good portion of that time for you to read.  I had planned to do a section on swimsuit fashion but that will have to be a post for another day.

Anything memorable happen on the way home?
     I bought a pair of cowboy boots.  I know that's shocking to most of you; but my husband, his friend, and a few other people get it.  I don't have the finger power to explain my reasoning at the moment.

I will tell you one last cute, memorable thing that Gavin did.  While we were driving back he asked if he could sing a Christmas Carol.  Lindy said no.  He asked, "Well, can I sing a Spring Carol?"  Lindy said, "Sure, sing a Spring Carol."  So, Gav breaks out into a lively rendition of "Joy to the World!!"  Good try, Gav.  Call it what you want.  It's still a Christmas Carol and Dad wasn't buying it.



That's all for now.  Hope you enjoyed me interviewing me.  I'll have a post on swimsuit fashion at some point, The View From Here, and my feelings about my little Gav Gav starting kindergarten.

Love to all.