I like rain. Especially storms. But I do hope it all moves east before our big family birthday zoo shindig tomorrow.
Speaking of east, some really cool gals are getting together a little gathering they like to call Xangafestipalooza East Coast. Doesn’t it just sound smashing? “East Coast” has such a sophisticated ring to it. Try saying it out loud. “East Coast.” Then say, “Mid West.” See? So different. If you live in PA or MD (what other states are over there? i can’t remember.) and want to meet some lovely xanga gals, I’m sure they’d love to have you!
EDIT: See comments below for additional states on the East Side. I had to smile just now as I suddenly remembered one of my good friends from Cedarville who was really “good” at geography. We were talking about another friend, and my geo-friend said, “Yeah, she’s moving to New York.”
Me: Wait, I thought she was moving to New Jersey.
Friend: She is.
Me: Uh…but you just said New York.
Friend: I know. New Jersey. You know, the city in New York.
Me: Um, could you possibly mean New Jersey, the STATE THAT BORDERS New York?
Friend: (looking at me like I have a few screws loose) New Jersey’s not a state.
Not sure how I finally convinced her, the Cedarville College graduate, that New Jersey was in fact its very own stately entity. We don’t see each other very often, but I remind her of this conversation at least once a year.
I wrote another blog entry on my website if anyone’s interested. I wrote the last one on Feb. 28th. I’m so glad Gabe made me a website I know how to update myself, because I sure do add things often. The topic is “How Do You Find Time to Write?” Good question.
Gabe is on his way to El Dora Speedway to watch the NASCAR drivers race weird little cars on a dirt track. (I think that’s how it goes.) I hope it doesn’t get rained out.
Stephi and Daniel left us text messages on our cell phones at 6am. They missed their flight. Instead of getting in at 9:45, they’ll be here around 2:15. Right in the middle of Nina’s nap. No sweat. It’s all good, right? I can actually use the extra time to clean up my slovenly house, but I’m bummed to miss those precious hours with Steph and Daniel. We’ll just have extra fun to make up for it.
So, I’m starting to think about potty-training Nina. I bought a ridiculous-looking Sesame Street potty ring at Once Upon a Child for $4 (was hoping to pick one up at a garage sale for a quarter). I don’t have a potty seat, and my girls always hated them anyway. Nina has sat on the toilet maybe 8 times. For a total of 60 seconds. “I want to go potty.” Okay, diaper off, up you go. “I want to get down.” Hmmm…
For now, she seems perfectly happy letting me know when her diaper is contaminated. “Mommy, I pooped.” And my favorite? “Mommy, I peeped.” (peed, in case you didn’t catch her logic)
Our neighbor girl came over to play yesterday after school. She called her mom to ask her how long she could stay.
Girl: (gets off the phone) I can stay 2 hours.
Me: (gulp. thinking that’s kind of a long time.) 2 hours?
Girl: My mom said 45 minutes. Is that 2 hours?
Me: Um, no…it’s…45 minutes.
Girl: How long is that?
Me: Uh…less than an hour.
Girl: Oh, okay! Cool!
Thanks for praying for Andrew and Denise and baby Parker. Denise went home yesterday! She’s having a rough time (understandably) both physically and emotionally. She had a lot of complications before and after his birth and will take quite awhile to recover. And I can’t imagine leaving my baby at the hospital. Please continue to pray for them as God brings them to mind.
I missed my morning run with God due to a torrential downpour. Bummer. I’m trying to find ways to still spend time in prayer even when I can’t run. I’ve got to have a back-up plan. I did pray for 6 of you this morning that God would light a little fire under your bums for Him.
Off I go to tidy a bit and wipe some things so my little sis thinks I’m an impeccable housekeeper. (she knows better)
Stay dry! Go jump in a puddle with someone you love!
p.s. What do you do when you’re 98% sure that someone you know (and see on a regular basis) is pregnant, but she hasn’t exactly announced it to you yet? My policy (thanks to Brian Regan–when’s that bbbbaby due?!) is to never, ever, ever ask someone if she’s pregnant before she personally tells me, “I am with child/knocked up/preggo/up the duff (Nicki!).” Goodness, I look pregnant after every meal. She’s hinted at it–saying she’s tired, touching her stomach–but no announcement. Friend, if you’re reading this, you know who you are. Next time I see you I want an announcement.
That’s all. Good-bye!