I have a lot of friends. Most of my friends are better friends to me than I am to them. I admit that I'm really not a very attentive friend, and sometimes that rolls over into "Rotten Friend". But still, I have a lot of friends.
One of my good friends, Fiona, doesn't like blogs. Can't say as I blame her. Really. It's incredibly addictive to check someone's blog on a daily basis (it's like looking at a terrible car accident as you drive by - sometimes you just can't help it), and that in itself is a terrible time waster. So... as an addict to one who is NOT addicted... I don't know what to say.
Back to Fiona though. I think the world of Fiona. She is incredibly talented (I wish I had HER little finger...) and amazingly smart, and fiercely loyal. And you don't mess with Fiona. Not even a little. The smaller they are... the more spunk they have. Fiona has spunk. Perhaps that's why I like her. She's a small package with a big punch. And we've been through a lot together.
Fiona was my neighbor from the first time I really got my own true pay rent and live in a bunch of houses that are all connected by one door and a whole bunch of people apartment. We were both doing laundry, and she thought that my laundry looked suspiciously like her laundry since we both wear the same brands... And then the friendship deepened.
I was chauffeur to her and her husband taking them to the airport the night before my oldest daughter was born. I've seen her slide down the side of a mountain - not because she wanted to, but because it was the "easy" way down (I'm sure she would insist that it was NOT the easy way down...). I was there when she graduated from College... the first time. And she has been there for me. More times than I can count.
Fiona and Chad (her husband) were there during some of the darkest moments of my life. The were literally directly across the hall when I needed someone to talk to or to make sure that I was eating or to take care of a child when I desperately needed it. They let themselves in to my apartment just to keep me company. I did NOT find this to be an intrusion, only the greatest show of friendship and love that I could find at that time in my life. Chad even helped me to put up an obnoxiously large Christmas Tree... and he would check in on me as he was leaving for work to make sure that I had eaten that day (no, I did NOT have an eating disorder - just a lot of loneliness and stress and other emotions that sometimes get in the way of a good meal...) In fact, Chad and Fiona flew home from a cruise because I needed a friend and someone to offer me support. It was and is their friendship that has helped me through some really tough times.
Fiona is remarkable. She finds time during her busy life to make a quilt for each of my children (and they all love them...). She works and raises two small children of her own. Yet - through all of this, she still finds time for other people.
I want to be more like Fiona.
03 November 2008
Wasting time...
And loving it. I'm an avid reader of Scribbit, and found this "work waster" on her blog. I've tried lying to the poll to find out how long I would survive, or how long I would fall apart, but when it came right down to it, honesty is still the best policy. These are my results. How would YOU do??? (And if it's less than 9 seconds, you earn a kudos bar, because at least you tried...)
I could survive for 54 seconds chained to a bunk bed with a velociraptor
I could survive for 54 seconds chained to a bunk bed with a velociraptor
Created by Bunk Beds.net
I know this post has NOTHING to do with the last few, but sometimes you just need a "not so serious" break. This is mine for today. And now, I'm back to trying to find the floor in my living room. Break time is over.
02 November 2008
Are you living a Celestial Life???
Two or three weeks ago, Mr. Snicklebutt asked me if I thought I was living a Celestial Life.
I still don't know what to think. My immediate answer was... "No." I mean, really. What does it mean to live a Celestial Life? Am I perfect when it comes to reading the scriptures? No. Do I write in my Journal every day? No. Do I have food storage? Yes. Do I go to church on a regular basis? Yes. Am I a basically good person? Only when I'm alone or with someone; and then only on days that end with "Y"... Do I keep the commandments? Yes.
So why would I have difficulty answering "yes" to the question of "Do you think you're living a Celestial Life?" when I am following the most basic of the basics to a near perfect "t"? Let me explain. First off - the term "Celestial" conjures up in my mind visions of perfection. I'm so far away from perfection, that I often feel that I most certainly will NOT catch up. Therefore, from that angle, I am NOT living a Celestial life.
If I look at a Celestial Life as one in which I would open my doors freely to Christ or Heavenly Father and allow them total access to my home and my life - I think I'd still have to say no. I'm not the greatest housekeeper, and I'd be mortified if they saw the true nature of the Craft Room and all her dirtiness. If I can look past that and look only to the good things in my life, then I do feel that I'm living a celestial life. For the most part.
Makes you think though - doesn't it?!
I still don't know what to think. My immediate answer was... "No." I mean, really. What does it mean to live a Celestial Life? Am I perfect when it comes to reading the scriptures? No. Do I write in my Journal every day? No. Do I have food storage? Yes. Do I go to church on a regular basis? Yes. Am I a basically good person? Only when I'm alone or with someone; and then only on days that end with "Y"... Do I keep the commandments? Yes.
So why would I have difficulty answering "yes" to the question of "Do you think you're living a Celestial Life?" when I am following the most basic of the basics to a near perfect "t"? Let me explain. First off - the term "Celestial" conjures up in my mind visions of perfection. I'm so far away from perfection, that I often feel that I most certainly will NOT catch up. Therefore, from that angle, I am NOT living a Celestial life.
If I look at a Celestial Life as one in which I would open my doors freely to Christ or Heavenly Father and allow them total access to my home and my life - I think I'd still have to say no. I'm not the greatest housekeeper, and I'd be mortified if they saw the true nature of the Craft Room and all her dirtiness. If I can look past that and look only to the good things in my life, then I do feel that I'm living a celestial life. For the most part.
Makes you think though - doesn't it?!
01 November 2008
I think my Guardian Angel went on strike.
At first I thought my G.A. had died, but then I thought that was too morbid - besides, aren't angels supposed to be around forever?
Now- you may be wondering what makes a person think that their Guardian Angel has died; let me tell you. Two Fridays in a row of something not so nice happening, and an entire WEEK of awful; pretty much convinced me that my G.A. had died. Or at least gone on strike.
Last Friday (the one BEFORE Halloween) had a series of rather unfortunate events that just felt like the beginning of the end. It all started on Monday. Now, I like Monday. It's a good day, and I don't generally have much to do with the house still (most of the time) being clean from the weekend. This particular Monday though... Mr. Snicklebutt was out of town. Not too abnormal, he returned that afternoon. And left again on Tuesday. I stayed home from work on Tuesday so that I could be with the little Snicklebutts; Tuesday night - thinking I would get some sleep - it never happened. Each of our three little ones got up sometime in the middle of the night. Two of the three went back to sleep. I will, however, admit freely that the couch is NOT meant to sleep three people next to each other - no matter HOW small they may be! The third little one is two. She was up at 6:30 in the AM and didn't want to go back to sleep. Needless to say... Work Wednesday night (I work from 10 pm through 2 am) was a killer. Thursday, Mr. Snicklebutt got home to a very tired wife, who left for work shortly after he got home. And then... it was Friday.
I should mention that I clean toilets at the Portland Oregon Temple (men's locker room) for a living, and while most of the time the toilets aren't terrible, all week last week someone had left a mess all over three of the three toilets that I have; and the three urinals weren't much better!
Back to Friday. I found an excellent place to purchase pumpkins, and while at work, volunteered to get pumpkins for the other 7 people on staff. All in all, I needed to take 25 pumpkins to work Friday night, and we had a family halloween party to go to. So... I asked Mr. Snicklebutt if I could take his truck. I am NOT a tall person, and I drive a Toyota Corolla. Mr. Snicklebutt drives a Dodge Ram 3500 Dually. I don't see so well when I'm driving his truck. After much admonishing me to "Don't Wreck the Truck..." I assured him that I knew what I was doing, and that all would be well... and then, I drove out of the driveway and PROMPTLY demolished the side of his truck. I hit the mailbox. The unmoveable mailbox. The mailbox won. The truck now has a major hole in the side of it. My name is now... MUD.
Add to that minorly major disaster, and work was an adventure all on its own. I had a light burn out in the locker room... where it had previously been on. And I walked past another custodian vacuuming and then walked past his vacuum (twice) and the cord of his vacuum spat sparks. I know that this was all NONE of my doing, but it sure felt like the world was in her own personal conspiracy!
Saturday was a better day. In fact, the week following the truck incident was pretty good. Until Friday. We had a church Halloween Party/Chili Cookoff (which I was late to, so my chili didn't get into the judging...). On the way home, I turned the corner and heard a soft "KaThunk". I immediately pulled over and checked the trunk to see if there was hot chili all over the back of the trunk. And... there was. And it was hot. I suffered 1st degree burns scooping the chili out of the back of the car and on to the side of the road. It looks like someone tossed their chili on the side of the road. Shaking out the rag so that I could continue mopping only served to get chili into my hair and all other surfaces not protected by clothing. I had a measly 1 quart left of delicious chili out of the entire 10" Dutch Oven... I'm protecting it with my life.
I was half an hour late to work.
Maybe my Guardian Angel just doesn't work Fridays... If my G.A. doesn't come to work next Friday, I'm going to have to officially fire him.
Now- you may be wondering what makes a person think that their Guardian Angel has died; let me tell you. Two Fridays in a row of something not so nice happening, and an entire WEEK of awful; pretty much convinced me that my G.A. had died. Or at least gone on strike.
Last Friday (the one BEFORE Halloween) had a series of rather unfortunate events that just felt like the beginning of the end. It all started on Monday. Now, I like Monday. It's a good day, and I don't generally have much to do with the house still (most of the time) being clean from the weekend. This particular Monday though... Mr. Snicklebutt was out of town. Not too abnormal, he returned that afternoon. And left again on Tuesday. I stayed home from work on Tuesday so that I could be with the little Snicklebutts; Tuesday night - thinking I would get some sleep - it never happened. Each of our three little ones got up sometime in the middle of the night. Two of the three went back to sleep. I will, however, admit freely that the couch is NOT meant to sleep three people next to each other - no matter HOW small they may be! The third little one is two. She was up at 6:30 in the AM and didn't want to go back to sleep. Needless to say... Work Wednesday night (I work from 10 pm through 2 am) was a killer. Thursday, Mr. Snicklebutt got home to a very tired wife, who left for work shortly after he got home. And then... it was Friday.
I should mention that I clean toilets at the Portland Oregon Temple (men's locker room) for a living, and while most of the time the toilets aren't terrible, all week last week someone had left a mess all over three of the three toilets that I have; and the three urinals weren't much better!
Back to Friday. I found an excellent place to purchase pumpkins, and while at work, volunteered to get pumpkins for the other 7 people on staff. All in all, I needed to take 25 pumpkins to work Friday night, and we had a family halloween party to go to. So... I asked Mr. Snicklebutt if I could take his truck. I am NOT a tall person, and I drive a Toyota Corolla. Mr. Snicklebutt drives a Dodge Ram 3500 Dually. I don't see so well when I'm driving his truck. After much admonishing me to "Don't Wreck the Truck..." I assured him that I knew what I was doing, and that all would be well... and then, I drove out of the driveway and PROMPTLY demolished the side of his truck. I hit the mailbox. The unmoveable mailbox. The mailbox won. The truck now has a major hole in the side of it. My name is now... MUD.
Add to that minorly major disaster, and work was an adventure all on its own. I had a light burn out in the locker room... where it had previously been on. And I walked past another custodian vacuuming and then walked past his vacuum (twice) and the cord of his vacuum spat sparks. I know that this was all NONE of my doing, but it sure felt like the world was in her own personal conspiracy!
Saturday was a better day. In fact, the week following the truck incident was pretty good. Until Friday. We had a church Halloween Party/Chili Cookoff (which I was late to, so my chili didn't get into the judging...). On the way home, I turned the corner and heard a soft "KaThunk". I immediately pulled over and checked the trunk to see if there was hot chili all over the back of the trunk. And... there was. And it was hot. I suffered 1st degree burns scooping the chili out of the back of the car and on to the side of the road. It looks like someone tossed their chili on the side of the road. Shaking out the rag so that I could continue mopping only served to get chili into my hair and all other surfaces not protected by clothing. I had a measly 1 quart left of delicious chili out of the entire 10" Dutch Oven... I'm protecting it with my life.
I was half an hour late to work.
Maybe my Guardian Angel just doesn't work Fridays... If my G.A. doesn't come to work next Friday, I'm going to have to officially fire him.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)