Wednesday, August 31, 2005

I got gas today....

My piggy bank after I got gas today :-(

Psalms 23

The Lord is my pace-setter, I shall not rush.
He makes me stop and rest for quite intervals.
He provides me with images of stillness which restore my serenity.
He leads me in the way of efficiency through calmness of mind
And His guidance is peace.
Even though I have a great many things to accomplish each day,
I will not fret. For His presence is here.
His timelessness, His all-importance, will keep me in balance.
He prepares refreshment and renewal in the midst of activity
By anointing my mind with the oil of tranquility.
My cup of joyous energy overflows surely harmony and effectiveness shall be the fruit of my house
For I shall walk in the pace of my Lord and dwell in His house forever.
-Japanese version

Tuesday, August 30, 2005


Um... ok... what exactly is this sign trying to say?

Monday, August 29, 2005

Quote of the day

"People are going on dates to coffee bars now. This is the worst idea. Four cappucinos later, your date doesn't look any better!"

-Margot Black

Sunday, August 28, 2005

I need clothes for my baby!

Yesterday I spent the entire day cleaning house. And boy did it need it. I'm afraid whenever I get into a good book I can do nothing else but read (unless I'm at work then I manage to work or blog all day). So since I finished Pride and Prejudice on Wednesday night I decided to clean the house up really really good so I can start my new book this weekend.

My daughter went shopping with her daddy so I could sleep in (thank you honey!!!) a little bit yesterday. But immediately upon arriving home my precious 5 year old comes to me and said, "I need clothes for my baby!" I looked and the baby wasn't naked. "Mom, she can't stay in her pajamas ALL day long" I think maybe there was a bit of an eye roll while saying this sentence... I think I'll start calling her a Drama Princess!

Why not? I asked. All her other babies are naked, what makes this one special that it should get to worry about wearing clothes? "I want my baby clothes mom, will you get them down for me?"

My heart almost stopped. Ok, listen, I'm not really a pack rat, I'm the first person to go through the house throwing away stuff I perceive as junk just so it won't clutter up the house, but I find it very hard to turn loose of the baby clothes! So we have a few plastic tubs of clothes, one of 0-12 months, one of 12 months -2T.... but hey, she's just now out growing 4T.

So after she cleaned her room (which took her as long as the rest of the house took me) I obliged and got the box of baby clothes out of her closet. Oh how the memories flooded my mind. Oh, this one she came home from the hospital in. This one I wore when I was a baby, my mom gave it to me right after my daughter was born, and this one was one of my favorites because it was hand made by someone, this one looked really cute on her, this was her first pair of black leather pants, these were her first little sandals, these were... these were... these were.... well, needless to say I couldn't just hand over all these precious outfits for a doll who will be naked again when the next doll is bought! No way! I'm saving them... for what exactly I don't know because we don't plan on having any more children but I can't turn loose of them, not yet. After much deliberation I finally turned loose of 4 outfits that the Drama Princess and I could agree on. She's happy with her clothes and I'm happy knowing the more precious outfits are safely put back where they belong.

Friday, August 26, 2005

Confessions of a not-so-teenage drama queen

So I wake my 5 year old this morning and she starts getting ready for school. I go back to my room where I finish getting ready for work. A few minutes later said 5 year old enters my room wearing jean shorts and a cute little white and blue shirt. After discussing the craziness of her hair she agrees to go find a brush. A few minutes later she walks back into my room, her hair still a mess but is no longer wearing the jean shorts and cute little white and blue shirt, instead she isn't wearing anything except her panties.


And she leaves my room to go find a different outfit. I recalled seeing the note yesterday about it being "red" day at school so I just smiled and said ok.

A few moments later she reenters my room fully clothed in a long sleeved pink shirt and long pink pants. I looked at her and said, I think we're confused. First of all, it's going to be 100 degrees out there so I am NOT letting you wear long sleeved anything (she's hot natured enough, like her momma) with pants. And second, that's pink, not red!

"BUT MOM! I don't have ANYTHING red!" Did I tell you my 5 year old is a bit of a drama queen?

So, I get up off my bed and walk her to her room to prove to her that she infact DID have something red (she has a rainbow of colors in her wardwobe). I start off with a Dora shirt that is trimmed in RED and has RED cherries on it, I find a cute little (at one time dress) shirt that has RED cars on it that she wears with her RED shorts. And I find her RED soccer shirt from last fall when she was a RED Hawk. She decided that it would be cool to wear her RED shirt because she could tell everyone that she play soccer and with her RED shirt I found her black shorts that has RED on it.... no red my foot! With her soccer outfit she wore her soccer socks, but mean mom wouldn't let her wear her cleets... she had to wear her tennis shoes... "But mom, they have PINK in them..." Oh the drama...

Male or Female

A Spanish teacher was explaining to her class that in Spanish, unlike English, nouns are designated as either masculine or feminine.
"House" for instance, is feminine: "la casa."
"Pencil," however, is masculine: "el lapiz."
A student asked, "What gender is 'computer'?" Instead of giving the answer, the teacher split the class into two groups, male and female, and asked them to decide for themselves whether "computer" should be a masculine or a feminine noun. Each group was asked to give four reasons for its recommendation.

The men's group decided that "computer" should definitely be of the feminine gender ("la computer"), because:
1. No one but their creator understands their internal logic;
2. The native language they use to communicate with other computers is incomprehensible to everyone else;
3. Even the smallest mistakes are stored in long term memory for possible later retrieval; and
4. As soon as you make a commitment to one, you find yourself spending half your paycheck on accessories for it.

The women's group, however, concluded that computers should be masculine ("el computer"), because:
1. In order to do anything with them, you have to turn them on;
2. They have a lot of data but still can't think for themselves;
3. They are supposed to help you solve problems, but half the time they ARE the problem; and
4. As soon as you commit to one, you realize that if you had waited a little longer, you could have gotten a better model.

The women won. As usual.........................

Thursday, August 25, 2005


So, my church has this little choir. There are 11 of us that sit in the loft, Pastor directs us while singing tenor or bass (where ever he's needed most and has the voice to fill) and an angel visiting earth plays the piano. I often feel less then worthy to be in the company of such wonderful singers, I don't know how to read music very well (I understand the notes are going up and down and have finally figured out what that the p means to sing softly (which isn't hard for me) and f means to give it all you got) but I don't feel like I have that great of a voice. But I cannot give up going to choir practice every Wednesday night because of the wonderful time we have. Often someone will tell a joke that will get us started and it's like we're in the 5th grade cutting up and acting out (and among us are 5 teachers!!!)

Last night, my dear friend Ralph came in wearing a bright yellow rain coat, this wasn't humorous, it was afterall raining outside, but his seeing eye dog (oh yeah, I forgot to mention out of this dozen of people 2 of our members are blind!) was also wearing a matching yellow rain coat! Oh how we all wished for a camera! It tickled me so!!! If I could draw I would draw you a picture and if I could paint I would paint you a picture, but alas, I am not talented in this way either so you'll just have to take my word for it. If you're ever bored in Enid on Wednesday night come join our choir, if we don't scare you off you'll love it!

You know, the psalmist David said on many occasions to make a joyful NOISE (and that's what I do) to the Lord

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Trust-- can you do it?

Proverbs 3:5-6 says, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight."

Trusting God... You would think the concept to be an easy one. I mean, it sounds logical doesn't it? But it is much easier to sit in church on Sunday morning then it is to allow him to direct us to the path of life He has chosen for us. It's easy to believe that God heals the sick until it's your parent or child suffering with some terminal illness. It's easy to believe that God is with us each moment until we find ourselves in the darkest shadow of our lives.

I remember saying to my mother during my darkest shadow, 'I feel God, He's here with me, but I cannot see him.' Oh, how it scared me so to know that I couldn't find God anywhere I turned. It seemed as though I was surrounded by evil. And how much I wanted to believe that God really was working this problem out for me. It was later reveled to me by my very dear charismatic friend that the reason I couldn't see God was because he had my back! Oh, what a wonderful image. I found much more comfort in her telling me these words then I had had in many many months of searching for God on my own.

I don't know why I'm writing this today. For some reason this verse and memory has been laid on my heart. I pray that who ever it is meant for, that you will take comfort in knowing that even if you can't see Him, God has your back!

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

The woes of a Kindergartener

Kindergartener... that word doesn't look right.

Anyway, not the point of this particular blog. I picked my daughter up from her third day of school and when asked how her day was she looks at me and says, "It's boring!" I never thought I'd hear my 5 year old say school was boring... 15 yeah maybe, but 5?!?!?

I pressed her a little to explain what she meant by it being so boring. "Mom, all we do is color and play outside!" she exclaimed. Oh, the poor thing. I wish all I had to do for a couple of hours was color, play, have a snack, and play some more. She doesn't seem to complain about being so bored when she spends the hour and half at a friend's house playing. So my husband and I are looking at getting her an online degree. Think the Univeristy of Phoenix will take her? She could work on college classes after her boring day of school! She wants to be a teacher when she grows up, she could work on her master's degree afterschool in first grade!

All I ever really needed to know I learned in Kindergarten by Robert Fulghum has this to say:

"...Share everything. Play fair. Don't hit people. Put things back where you found them. Clean up your own mess. Don't take things that aren't yours. Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody. Wash your hands before you eat. Flush. Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you. Live a balanced life. Learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some...When you go out into the world, watch for traffic, hold hands and stick together..."

How true these words are, and if my daughter learns all these things during the course of the next nine months I'll be one happy mommy!

Monday, August 22, 2005

Thank you friend

Through this blog I have met some wonderful people. Sure, we may not know what each other looks like, except for the small picture icons we list from time to time, but I still count these people as friends.

Today I visited one such friend and encourage you to go read for yourself what she has written in her blog Inexpugnable. It was powerful to me. Today she wrote about what other people have said about making our enemies into demons. I realized today that that is exactly what I have been doing to a coworker. I've begun to see him as all bad and a larger then life monster in my mind. When, truthfully, he isn't. Sure he's annoying and crawls under my skin but it's nothing that my GOD can't handle.

So to my new friend who's writing today was God inspired for me, THANK YOU!

Sunday, August 21, 2005

Lost in imagination

Today I have neglected all things except my imagination. Some might call it being lazy, I do not disagree. I have locked myself into the four walls of my imagination while managing to read about half of Pride and Prejudice this afternoon. I don't speed read, I don't skip over "useless" words and pick out the important information. I feel that if the author wished for us to speed-read, said author would have written it in speed-reading format. Each and every words has been considered, such as mine now.

So far I am enthralled and I'm sure this story will end well. However, from time to time I find myself a little lost in translation though, English as it may be, so I sometimes reread certain parts to make sure I fully understand what Ms. Austen is trying to say. I have also started Don Quixote by Cervantes. I read most of it in my Spanish 4 class my senior year, but it was in Spanish and I'm afraid I spent more time translating words then absorbing them. The copy I bought recently is in English, that should help. I'm open to ideas of what other great books I should read before I die.

"What is reading but silent conversation?" -- Walter Savage Landor
"When we read a story, we inhabit it. The covers of the book are like a roof and four walls. What is to happen next will take place within the four walls of the story. And this is possible because the story's voice makes everything its own." -- John Berger

Saturday, August 20, 2005


I grew up in a house with no AC, no cable, and no street lights. Not that I'm complaining, AC would've been nice, but somehow I survived. I remember every summer I would arrange my room so that my bed was directly under my window, in hopes of getting some cool night-time air. I would watch the stars for hours just waiting to fall asleep. I would watch, waiting on a shooting star so I could wish for the perfect man, or a friend that would be as true to me as I was to them. I have both now, guess all that wishing paid off, but I don't think it was the falling stars that gave me my heart desires. I never really knew where the constelations Orion and his friends were, but I memorized those stars out my window facing North and made my own constelations. I hated it when it was cloudy, unless it there was a thunderstorm and I could watch the lightening and listen to the thunder. I would wait for each bolt to see where it was coming from and where it was going. Of course I prefered the spiderweb lightening to the cloud to cloud, but as long as it flashed light I was good.

Tonight as I sit at my computer, catching up on what my friends have had to say today I find myself getting side tracked because every now and then my eye catches a bright light out my window and I have to see it and count... 1 Mississippi, 2 Mississippi, 3 Mississippi, 4 CRASH before I can get back to typing. So, my friends and people who've visited my site without me knowing, I bid you a good night, there's a storm outside my window that is begging me to watch!

Peace, love, and happiness (and a good thunderstorm)

Friday, August 19, 2005

They say...

They say that a picture is worth 1000 words. I'm not EVEN going to try to compete with that!
This picture explains itself

Thursday, August 18, 2005

My dear sweet baby girl

Well, it was bound to happen. It happens to almost every child at some point in their life, and really it should happen to ALL children. My dear, sweet, baby girl left today for her first day in Kindergarten *WAH!*

To help me get through the afternoon until I go fight traffic and pick her up I've been surfing other blogs. Today you just MUST visit my friends! They have some funny stuff to say, and frankly, I don't!


Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Breaking the Chain

I don't know about you, but I'm tired of chain mail. Sure I like a good funny joke as much as everyone else, but I'm talking about the chain mail about the little girl who gave .57 cents and a new church was built (after other people donated from hearing her story) and how Mars is coming just mere inches from earth this August (really it was 2003 and was FAR from inches). Anyway, I found a website that has actually done research on these chain mails and are trying to set the record straight. Check it out.

Sunday, August 14, 2005

The Boys

Do you ever have one of those days where you just sit back and reflect over the past. Whither it be the past day, week, month, year or life. I'm having one of those days. Kind of makes me miss my prozac... just kidding, I was never on anything THAT strong.

Today I've been wondering about those boys I use to know. Now, I'm happily married and wouldn't change a thing ... ok, so maybe there are a couple minor things I would change but I can stand it if they don't ever change. I wouldn't want to be with anyone else, that much I know to be true. But I do wonder what those boys that I use to know are up to today.

There was Sam. The guy I was going to marry. That is if we could ever live in the same area for a good period of time to really get to know each other. I met Sam on the internet and we ran up quite the phone bill talking to each other every day and sometimes more then once a day. But alas, Sam, when faced with the opportunity to come to Oklahoma to live closer to me just couldn't do it. He spoke perfect English and Spanish. His parents were born in Puerto Rico but Sam lived most of his life in the Florida. I tried to tell him that Oklahoma was desperate for bilingual people and he could almost name his wage and get it. But he just couldn't do it. Last I heard of him he was back in Puerto Rico.

Before him there was Josh, I had a crush on him for... oh, just 3 years of my high school existence. I don't know if he ever really knew. It's not like I came out and told him. Gosh no, possibly face rejection from one of my best friends-- no way! If he did know it it didn't really effect our friendship. We didn't talk on the phone much or anything like that, but we ate lunch together every day. Well, to be honest, there were about 7 or 8 of us that ate together and a dozen or so classmates that would join us from time time. Josh always had a way of making me laugh even when I was in the worst of moods. I tried to keep in touch with him after high school but his lack of communication kept our corispondences sparadic. Years later I learned of his email address but I guess he didn't check it much either. Or perhaps he just didn't want to remain in contact with me as much as I did him. The latter is probably the correct one. Deep down inside I think that Josh did know how much I had a crush on him. He probably thought if he ignored it it would go away. And it did. Not many boys liked me back then. I sometimes look at the mirror and wonder who the pudgy girl is that's been looking back at me my whole life.

Before Josh there was Jimmy. Jimmy and I had become friends in 8th grade. He was in my last hour Spanish class. He was cute and nice. In 9th grade Jimmy moved away but we kept in touch. Right after graduation he moved back. Jimmy wasn't a good guy. Oh, he was always sweet to me, Jimmy was a drug user, went to wild parties, and probably a lot of other stuff he didn't tell me about. One time I actually tried to get him to let me try drugs. He refused. Said I was too good to take drugs. Dog-gone him, he was right. See, very sweet always looking out for me. He knew that life wasn't me, and didn't want it to become me either. I wasn't a bad girl. Was it written all over my face or something?

I wonder what these boys are up to. Have they found happiness? Are they still alive? I hope so, to both of my questions. I hope they've each found themselves a good girl that laughs at all their jokes and loves them entirely.

I thank my God upon every remembrance of you Philippians 1:3

Wednesday, August 10, 2005

Yesterday I spent the day with my husband's grandmother at the hospital. You may recall she broke her hip on Friday. She's doing just fine when she's in a good mood. I had only intended on spending an hour or two with her yesterday to talk to the doctors as they did their morning rounds. But then the black sheep showed up. Well to make a very long (and probably boring) story short her mood in one hour went from a happy mood loving everyone on staff to being grumpy and hating the physical therapists and nurses. So, I decided I needed to stay and work damage control. The wonderful son decided to take a cigarette break (luckily for me it last over 2 hours) so during this time I reminded her how good she was being treated there, how wonderful her breakfast was, and we watched The Golden Girls and another old sitcom. After watching an hour of mind numbing TV her mood was completely reversed and she was a happy girl again. It's amazing what Blanche, Rose, Dorothy, and Sophia can do for a little old lady's mood.

Today I told the nurses that she really liked The Golden Girls. Of course she told them she didn't, but I told it will help her be in a happy mood if they could make sure she watched it. The nurse said she understood and would to make sure she got to watch it in the morning.

Thank you for being a friend
Traveled down the road and back again
Your heart is true your a pal and a confidant.
And if you through a party
Invited everyone you ever knew
You would see the biggest gift would be from me
And the card attached would say thank you for being a friend.

Sunday, August 07, 2005

Things I can count on (besides death and taxes)

1. No matter how hard you try, you can't change the weather.

2. You need some water if you're going mud slidding.

3. Change will happen.

4. Sonic will give me a good cherry coke.

5. Someone will interupt while I'm reading good book.

6. No matter how much food is in the house there's NOTHING to eat.

7. A good old fashion hymn will lift spirts.

8. Monday comes after Sunday and sometimes there are two or three of them in a row.

9. It take at least 4 hours to clean the kids room when she's away at grandma's.

10. Mamma will worry -about everything.

Ok, several of you mentioned my blog, show you're here and tell me what I left off this list!

God, give us the serenity to accept what cannot be changed; Give us courage to change what should be changed; Give us the wisdom to distinguish one from the other. - Reinhold Niebuhr

Saturday, August 06, 2005

My baby's leaving...

Well, my mother-in-law showed up yesterday and is planning on taking my baby girl home with her for a week. This has been thoughtfully planned out and arranged, but still, she's my baby! She' only 5 years old. OK OK, don't worry about me having an emotional breakdown, I'll be fine once I get use to the silence. I've got BIG plans for while she's gone too. I'm going to clean her room- yep that's the extent of my big plans, between working and sleeping it'll probably be all I have time for. HA HA! She'll be so excited that someone else cleaned her room she won't miss all those toys she never plays with anyway! Daddy and I have some ideas on what we'd like to change about her room. Like for instance, less toys, and clothes put where they're suppose to be. Of course Chevelle would like to come home to pink room the size of a small country with every single toy her little heart desires instead of her normal sized purple room cleaned out of toys she hasn't picked up since she got.

But my baby might be leaving today instead of tomorrow afternoon as originally planned. I got a phone call Friday morning from my mother-in-law saying that her mom, who's 80 fell and was being transported to the hospital that morning. Grandmother broke her hip and yesterday had to have surgery to put in a rod and some screws. She was a funny person yesterday! Good drugs. Grandmother on any other day is an interesting character. One that even my over active imagination wouldn't have dreamed up. God was having a good day when he created her. One Christmas she got a glass cardinal figurine. She told everyone there that they only made 3 and now she had 2. It was obvious to all of us it was something that was mass produced but we didn't argue with her, especially the store that it had be bought from had at least 20 others just like it. Now it's the family joke. They only made 3! Grandmother keeps us entertained and I don't know what we'll do for laughs when God takes her home to him.

This is the day that the Lord hath made, we will rejoice and be glad in it Psalms 118:24

Tuesday, August 02, 2005

The Pickle Jar

This came across in an email today and I wanted to share it. It's kind of long, but worth the read.

The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom. When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar.

As a small boy I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the jar. They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.

I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate's treasure when the sun poured through the bedroom window. When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank.

Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production. Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck.

Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully. "Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill,son. You're going to do better than me. This old mill town's not going to hold you back."

Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly. "These are for my son's college fund. He'll never work at the mill all his life like me."

We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. "When we get home, we'll start filling the jar again." He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar. As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other. "You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters," he said. "But you'll get there. I'll see to that."

The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed.

A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had always stood. My dad was a man of few words, and never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith.

The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have done. When I married, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, how much my dad had loved me.

No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar.

To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to make a way out for me. "When you finish college, Son," he told me, his eyes glistening, "You'll never have to eat beans again - unless you want to."

The first Christmas after our daughter Jessica was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Jessica began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad's arms.

"She probably needs to be changed," she said, carrying the baby into my parents' bedroom to diaper her. When Susan came back into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes. She handed Jessica back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into the room. "Look," she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser. To my amazement, there, as if it had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins. With a gamut of emotions choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Jessica, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak.

This truly touched my heart. I know it has yours as well. Sometimes we are so busy adding up our troubles that we forget to count our blessings.

Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person's life, for better or for worse.

God puts us all in each other's lives to impact one another in some way. Look for God in others.

The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or touched - they must be felt with the heart ~ Helen Keller

Happy moments, praise God.
Difficult moments, seek God.
Quiet moments, worship God.
Painful moments, trust God.
Every moment, thank God.

Monday, August 01, 2005

When I grow up...

What did you want to be when you grew up? Did you plan on actually growing up? Me neither. I remember wanting to be a policewoman, a firewoman, a school teacher... that was until I realized I'd be with a bunch of children all day long and I decided maybe that wasn't the life for me. I never really pictured myself sitting at a desk for 8 hours a day dealing the books. Now, don't get me wrong, I love my job. It has it's days where I don't like so much, but that's true with ANY job!

I remember when I was in high school I would watch people. My mom and I would go somewhere and I'd sit there and make up a WHOLE story about their life in the witness protection program. Or about the guy sitting alone drinking coffee and I'd tell my mom about his poor sick wife. Sometimes my mom wouldn't start of knowing that I was making it all up on the spot and would look at me and say, "REALLY?" Then I'd have to smile at her and say, "It could be." She was sure that I'd turn out to be a novelist. That didn't happen either. With my over active imagination I was encouraged to take drama the second semester of my senior year. I had a blast! I was even on the comeptition drama team. My partner and I had a dramatic duet, it was a lot of fun. We threw it together before the last regional contest and managed to place and went on to district, but didn't do quite so well there. But my teacher, Mr E. let me go with them to the State Competition anyway. That was a blast! And I decided that I wanted to be an actess and then direct... then reality set in. I checked out a book from the local library that summer and learned just how much it would cost to live in New York or California waiting on that "BIG BREAK" and I decided, maybe that wasn't what I wanted to do, besides, leaving my family and friends to travel to a state I'd never been didn't really appeal to me.

So, here I find myself, sitting at a desk, in an office doing the books. Far from teaching, writing, and acting. Well, I guess you could say that I'm getting to write now, after all, that's what a blog is isn't it? Writing.

I know that God has a plan for me, sometimes I wish he'd share that plan with me so I'd know what to expect.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11