I went to bed at ten o clock and got up at seven,
And this morning when I needed to go out, I jumped on the bed and woke up the one with long hair.
I could already tell it was going to be an incredibly ordinary day.
The first thing to do is all my medicine. She rubs lotion into my ears- I don't like that part.
Then I get a yummy treat. They say it's for my joints, but it tastes so good, I think they're just telling me that so I'll eat it.
It was definitely going to be an incredibly ordinary day.
After a breakfast drizzled with fish oil, we went for a walk.
I found a perfect place a few houses down and stopped there.
As she reached down to destroy my hard work, I heard mumblings about "me being out just before"
but I didn't care and pranced along at her side happily.
It was turning into an incredibly ordinary day.
Naptime is next. I lie on the sofa, my head pressed up against her thigh.
I've fond this the best position for naps. Not only is it comfortable, but it makes them last longer because she feels guilty getting up.
It was an incredibly ordinary day.
She finally mustered up the courage to get up and do these things called "chores"
While I'm not sure what they are, I get the vague feeling that she's trying to make the house less comfortable when she does them.
I followed her around anyway, helping as best as I could.
Maybe I'll go somewhere more exciting, like Florida.
When the one with the deep voice came home, I showed my appreciation for him not being gone forever by using my biggest, best bark.
He responded by howling back and "smiling" at me. I jumped on him and he rubbed my ears just the way I like it.
It was an incredibly ordinary day.
There was more medicine before supper and I still don't like my ears being cleaned.
There was no fish oil on my supper and I missed it.
In Florida, there is always fish oil and no ear stuff.
Second naptime after supper. I get between them on the sofa.
They both laugh and say I'm trying to maintain my "only child" status.
I have no idea what they're talking about, but I love them so much I don't let it bother me and move between sleep and begging for love.
It was an incredibly ordinary day.
When it's time to go to bed, they wake me up and we all head to the bedroom.
Right after a last dose of ear medication.
As I snuggle into my bed that she's pulled the wrinkles from, I give her a kiss and look at her to say.
It was an incredibly ordinary day.
She laughs and tells me most days are like that.
Even in Florida.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Sing a Song
Last night we attended a Celtic Woman concert with my family. My sister's birthday is this week so we went to celebrate.
For those of you who don't know about them, Celtic Woman is an Irish singing group. Actually, it's not really just a "singing" group. The band is as enjoyable to listen to as the women are and they have a solo violinist who is truly incredible both to watch and to listen to.
Something I was struck by- besides the music- was the amount of people who carried cell phones in and took videos and photos- even though there were signs everywhere prohibiting photography of any kind and it was mentioned before the show began.
The most cell phones I counted was during the song, Danny Boy. This made sense to me. Danny Boy is one of the most famous Irish songs- at least in the states. I counted nine little screens in the crowd during the song.
What did not make sense was the amount of phones on during Amazing Grace. Zero. They had a world renowned bagpipe player with them and it was much more complex and coordinated than Danny Boy was. Don't get me wrong, both songs were absolutely gorgeous, but of the two, Amazing Grace would have been the one to record in my opinion. It better showcased just about every aspect that makes the group such a joy to listen to.
But neither song was my personal favorite of the night. That honor (such as it is) goes to one that has been around for several years, but I had not heard before called Isle of Hope, Isle of Tears. I love history and I adore music. This had the best features of both added to an almost romantic background. It doesn't portray anything as "This is good and that was bad". It gives you a much deeper feeling and leaves you bittersweet, not hating wither the place you came from, nor the place you are in now, but knowing that neither place is what you truly want forever.
God bless and see you soon,
Joelle
For those of you who don't know about them, Celtic Woman is an Irish singing group. Actually, it's not really just a "singing" group. The band is as enjoyable to listen to as the women are and they have a solo violinist who is truly incredible both to watch and to listen to.
Something I was struck by- besides the music- was the amount of people who carried cell phones in and took videos and photos- even though there were signs everywhere prohibiting photography of any kind and it was mentioned before the show began.
The most cell phones I counted was during the song, Danny Boy. This made sense to me. Danny Boy is one of the most famous Irish songs- at least in the states. I counted nine little screens in the crowd during the song.
What did not make sense was the amount of phones on during Amazing Grace. Zero. They had a world renowned bagpipe player with them and it was much more complex and coordinated than Danny Boy was. Don't get me wrong, both songs were absolutely gorgeous, but of the two, Amazing Grace would have been the one to record in my opinion. It better showcased just about every aspect that makes the group such a joy to listen to.
But neither song was my personal favorite of the night. That honor (such as it is) goes to one that has been around for several years, but I had not heard before called Isle of Hope, Isle of Tears. I love history and I adore music. This had the best features of both added to an almost romantic background. It doesn't portray anything as "This is good and that was bad". It gives you a much deeper feeling and leaves you bittersweet, not hating wither the place you came from, nor the place you are in now, but knowing that neither place is what you truly want forever.
God bless and see you soon,
Joelle
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
A judge, I am not.
Last Saturday I had the privilege of line judging in the Sparks A Rama for a church I used to attend. It's a regional event where several churches get together and compete against each other in games. Sparks are aged five through eight. They're the youngest group of the bunch that competes. (The older groups' games are called simply "Awana Games") I've wanted to judge- well, at least be certified to judge- for years, but women weren't allowed in the National Capital Region. When I was asked this year, I started to make sure I was definitely still female and was told, "Women can judge now!" I said of course I would. Since we are still looking for a church home, this was the closest I was going to get to actually having a team of my own.
I got to the event on Saturday and put on the official's shirt. With the shirt came the weight of responsibility like I have never known before at an event like this. As a player, you listen to your coach and do your best. If you are disqualified, it's your fault, but you still know you did your best. As a coach, you teach your kids the games. You practice for hours. You tell them a hundred times NOT to do that or you'll be disqualified. When they still do it at the games, you just have to shake your head and laugh as they come back to you. As a line judge, you are the one who has to make the call as to whether or not that team is disqualified. I suddenly realized that I'd be the one deciding whether or not a team got points for games. Whether they won or lost. It was something I hadn't thought about until I actually got there. The fact that I was about a foot shorter than everyone else who was judging didn't make me feel any better about it. Carrying all the teams on your shoulders and you're smaller than everyone else in the same role... Not a nice feeling.
The first game is called the Sparky Crawl. The best explanation for this game is "Organized Chaos". Basically, you have four teams- one on each side of the square and they crawl all the way across the game floor at once. The first round went well. Everyone got to and back, took off their kneepads and settled down to let flight two of the second circle have their go. The whistle blew....
And all of the Sparks on OUR circle, who had already played and were supposed to wait for the next game, started off across the square again! Have you ever seen eight adults try to chase after thirty- odd focus- driven children on a game floor? If the planned Crawl is organized chaos, this was complete madness. It was a terribly funny, and unique experience. More than one adult ended up on the floor- me being one of them.
After the event was over, I walked to each coach and congratulated them on their good job. Believe me, if you can get twelve to fifteen Sparks to sit on a line for a hour and play organized games, you deserve a medal. A coach who's team I had to disqualify every single time I judged their line hugged me and told me, "Thank you so much. God bless you." Suddenly, my petty fears from the beginning of the day didn't matter at all.
And really, that was what it was all about. Not how well the kids did. Not who won or lost. Not what we think of coaching styles. Not about the way you judge. It's about the church coming together, no matter what denomination, and enjoying each other and the kids while worshiping the one who made it all possible.
So saying, I did not really enjoy being the big, mean person who has to say the team was disqualified. Does anyone need a coach for next year?
God bless and see you soon,
Joelle
I got to the event on Saturday and put on the official's shirt. With the shirt came the weight of responsibility like I have never known before at an event like this. As a player, you listen to your coach and do your best. If you are disqualified, it's your fault, but you still know you did your best. As a coach, you teach your kids the games. You practice for hours. You tell them a hundred times NOT to do that or you'll be disqualified. When they still do it at the games, you just have to shake your head and laugh as they come back to you. As a line judge, you are the one who has to make the call as to whether or not that team is disqualified. I suddenly realized that I'd be the one deciding whether or not a team got points for games. Whether they won or lost. It was something I hadn't thought about until I actually got there. The fact that I was about a foot shorter than everyone else who was judging didn't make me feel any better about it. Carrying all the teams on your shoulders and you're smaller than everyone else in the same role... Not a nice feeling.
And all of the Sparks on OUR circle, who had already played and were supposed to wait for the next game, started off across the square again! Have you ever seen eight adults try to chase after thirty- odd focus- driven children on a game floor? If the planned Crawl is organized chaos, this was complete madness. It was a terribly funny, and unique experience. More than one adult ended up on the floor- me being one of them.
After the event was over, I walked to each coach and congratulated them on their good job. Believe me, if you can get twelve to fifteen Sparks to sit on a line for a hour and play organized games, you deserve a medal. A coach who's team I had to disqualify every single time I judged their line hugged me and told me, "Thank you so much. God bless you." Suddenly, my petty fears from the beginning of the day didn't matter at all.
And really, that was what it was all about. Not how well the kids did. Not who won or lost. Not what we think of coaching styles. Not about the way you judge. It's about the church coming together, no matter what denomination, and enjoying each other and the kids while worshiping the one who made it all possible.
So saying, I did not really enjoy being the big, mean person who has to say the team was disqualified. Does anyone need a coach for next year?
God bless and see you soon,
Joelle
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Oh where, oh where can we park the cars?
I have a 1992 Buick Park Avenue. It runs smoothly. It's incredibly comfortable to drive, and it's big enough for anything I want to put in it- which was spectacular when I was going to school and teaching preschool. There's only one problem.
It eats batteries.
We know there's a short in the electrical system, and that it probably is connected to the radio, but we can't find it, so need to take it into the shop, which we haven't done yet.
When we moved here, we parked both our cars on the street. Then my sister came to spend the night and I moved it into the grass where our curb is cut. It was still in our property, but on the grass. While it sat there, the battery died... Again. I tried to move it a few days after my sister left and it wouldn't start. I figured it was ok. We would just leave it there until we had the money to get it into a shop.
A few weeks later, after all the snow had melted, I got a knock on the door. It was a gentleman from the city who was roaming the streets looking for people who were out of compliance with the ordinances of the city. I answered and told him we'd get the car moved as soon as we could... He told us we'd get a fine if we didn't.
The next time Zach got home when it was light, we tried to move it. It's not easy to move a two ton car that has no power, even on a flat slope with it in neutral. We worked for ten minutes and got it three inches. We finally decided that a fine was probably less than a new battery and left it there.
A week later... We find a notice on the door "If you don't move this car we'll tow it." No fine, just, "we're taking it". So we gave up and got a battery. It started right up and I moved it to the street in front of the house- the only place we're legally allowed to park. Phew. Crisis solved. We'll be ok now. Everybody smiles.
Yesterday, Zach came home to signs all down the street. "No parking on the street for three days."
It eats batteries.
We know there's a short in the electrical system, and that it probably is connected to the radio, but we can't find it, so need to take it into the shop, which we haven't done yet.
When we moved here, we parked both our cars on the street. Then my sister came to spend the night and I moved it into the grass where our curb is cut. It was still in our property, but on the grass. While it sat there, the battery died... Again. I tried to move it a few days after my sister left and it wouldn't start. I figured it was ok. We would just leave it there until we had the money to get it into a shop.
A few weeks later, after all the snow had melted, I got a knock on the door. It was a gentleman from the city who was roaming the streets looking for people who were out of compliance with the ordinances of the city. I answered and told him we'd get the car moved as soon as we could... He told us we'd get a fine if we didn't.
The next time Zach got home when it was light, we tried to move it. It's not easy to move a two ton car that has no power, even on a flat slope with it in neutral. We worked for ten minutes and got it three inches. We finally decided that a fine was probably less than a new battery and left it there.
A week later... We find a notice on the door "If you don't move this car we'll tow it." No fine, just, "we're taking it". So we gave up and got a battery. It started right up and I moved it to the street in front of the house- the only place we're legally allowed to park. Phew. Crisis solved. We'll be ok now. Everybody smiles.
Yesterday, Zach came home to signs all down the street. "No parking on the street for three days."
Monday, March 21, 2011
Climb the fence and come on in.
After several months of debating whether or not to write a blog, I've finally decided to dive in and start one. While facebook is great for many things, there are times I wish I had more than 450 characters to explain my thoughts. Using notes isn't what I wanted either. They're difficult to navigate and better used for stories or poetry, so blogging is the best bet for now.
For those of you who are unfamiliar with me-
My name is Joelle. I've been married to my husband, Zachary, for two years now. We spent almost two years up in The Frozen North Country of New York. Last year, we moved back down to where most of our families are and are back in Maryland.
We have two pets, one cat (Misty) and a basset hound (Charlie). Our animals are one of the main sources of entertainment and fun in our lives, so many of my posts will be about them. Their attitudes are far larger than they are, so they often spill out in ways that surprise even the two of us.
I am a devout Christian am involved in a children's program called Awana. I have been since I was very young and many posts will probably be about regional events with the program. We are currently looking for a new church home and are having a difficult time choosing where we can best serve and be discipled at. It was not this hard to pick a church as newlyweds up north.
For those of you familiar with me, but unsure of the blog's name-
My first name choice was taken- by someone who only posted one time five years ago. I decided that was alright, because it was just the name of an album. The album was nice, but the name was what I really liked. I decided instead I could name it something a bit more personal.
I play a facebook game called Pet Society. I've made many, many friends through it and I consider myself to be very close to quite a few of them. While I am losing interest in actual the game, I still remember that it's brought me close to many people I now love- no matter where they are in the world. Paying homage to the game, and thus the friends I've made through it, by naming it after the virtual pet seemed to suit.
And of course, back door friends are always best.
God bless and see you soon,
Joelle
For those of you who are unfamiliar with me-
My name is Joelle. I've been married to my husband, Zachary, for two years now. We spent almost two years up in The Frozen North Country of New York. Last year, we moved back down to where most of our families are and are back in Maryland.
We have two pets, one cat (Misty) and a basset hound (Charlie). Our animals are one of the main sources of entertainment and fun in our lives, so many of my posts will be about them. Their attitudes are far larger than they are, so they often spill out in ways that surprise even the two of us.
I am a devout Christian am involved in a children's program called Awana. I have been since I was very young and many posts will probably be about regional events with the program. We are currently looking for a new church home and are having a difficult time choosing where we can best serve and be discipled at. It was not this hard to pick a church as newlyweds up north.
For those of you familiar with me, but unsure of the blog's name-
My first name choice was taken- by someone who only posted one time five years ago. I decided that was alright, because it was just the name of an album. The album was nice, but the name was what I really liked. I decided instead I could name it something a bit more personal.
I play a facebook game called Pet Society. I've made many, many friends through it and I consider myself to be very close to quite a few of them. While I am losing interest in actual the game, I still remember that it's brought me close to many people I now love- no matter where they are in the world. Paying homage to the game, and thus the friends I've made through it, by naming it after the virtual pet seemed to suit.
And of course, back door friends are always best.
God bless and see you soon,
Joelle
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