OK, we're all professionals, we all know how to play the blog game. Read it, write your own, tag some people and tell them to read your blog!
1: I finally got that swiss cake roll
2: I'm not really in the right frame of mind to do this tag game
3: All I really wanted was for someone to tell me I was beautiful, however those weren't the words that were said.
4: Sometimes I feel so lost
5: Big Boy in Norwood serves breakfast all day now, just in case you didn't know Lori
6: I can't wait to go bed shopping Sunday!
7: I've started the 2nd season of Heroes and I'll be prepped and ready for the 3rd season on 9/22!
8: Biggest Loser premiers 9/16!
9: I should be going to bed, early meeting. But instead I think I'll watch another episode of Heroes
10: Sometimes, a girl just needs someone to believe in her...and actually verbalize that belief to her on a regular basis. Sometimes she forgets.
9.12.2008
Five Words
Five words, curled like a fist around the knife that sliced me open
Flung like an afterthought, with a pat on the knee
Five words, confirming the slimy thoughts slithering around my shattered heart.
(you're not enough, you're not beautiful, you're not worthy, you're nothing, nothing, nothing)
Five words that scream like a banshee from my own head, there is really no need for you to say them to me.
These words spoken have drowned out the four words I read last week that had me floating. These words drown out the spirit whispering in my ear.
I know. It doesn't help that it's the truth, these five words. This truth doesn't assuage the grief hearing it causes.
I know which words to listen to, and yet I turn from the lovely healing words and run hard and fast into the words the tear me apart and break me down.
Five words, curl my heart into a fist and rise up the anger that falsely comforts me. Five words tempt me to color the world black and close myself, shut off tight.
I'm holding on, as tight as I can, to the four words. The four words that are salve to my sliced open heart. I hope. I hope that I can continue to choose the good not the bad; the four words not the five.
Flung like an afterthought, with a pat on the knee
Five words, confirming the slimy thoughts slithering around my shattered heart.
(you're not enough, you're not beautiful, you're not worthy, you're nothing, nothing, nothing)
Five words that scream like a banshee from my own head, there is really no need for you to say them to me.
These words spoken have drowned out the four words I read last week that had me floating. These words drown out the spirit whispering in my ear.
I know. It doesn't help that it's the truth, these five words. This truth doesn't assuage the grief hearing it causes.
I know which words to listen to, and yet I turn from the lovely healing words and run hard and fast into the words the tear me apart and break me down.
Five words, curl my heart into a fist and rise up the anger that falsely comforts me. Five words tempt me to color the world black and close myself, shut off tight.
I'm holding on, as tight as I can, to the four words. The four words that are salve to my sliced open heart. I hope. I hope that I can continue to choose the good not the bad; the four words not the five.
9.10.2008
Let's play TV tag this weekend
Belinda tagged me, let's get this show on the road:
OK, we're all professionals, we all know how to play the blog game. Read it, write your own, tag some people and tell them to read your blog!
1: I came home early from work today and slept for 4 hours straight. I feel like my brain has finally moved back into my head because of it
2: I have some unprocessed thoughts about doing love not just feeling it in my head, and no idea how to get them out
3: I am shamelessly and unapologetically addicted to the new 90210. It's only the 2nd episode, but it's good.
4: 30 days from today I will have the keys to my new house and will have spent the majority of the afternoon steam cleaning the upstairs carpets
5: I could physically harm someone for a swiss cake roll right now, but I'm refusing to drive to Meijer for some.
6: I have actual conversations with my cats. I'm also considering getting a rocker and taking up crocheting to complete the crazy old lady stereotype trifecta,
7: Peter Petrelli on Heroes is H.O.T. Yum
8: Sometimes I still think about it
9: I am absolutely terrified about owning a home, but I think it will be ok
10: My church turns 4 this weekend. If you're in Cincinnati come visit us.
OK, we're all professionals, we all know how to play the blog game. Read it, write your own, tag some people and tell them to read your blog!
1: I came home early from work today and slept for 4 hours straight. I feel like my brain has finally moved back into my head because of it
2: I have some unprocessed thoughts about doing love not just feeling it in my head, and no idea how to get them out
3: I am shamelessly and unapologetically addicted to the new 90210. It's only the 2nd episode, but it's good.
4: 30 days from today I will have the keys to my new house and will have spent the majority of the afternoon steam cleaning the upstairs carpets
5: I could physically harm someone for a swiss cake roll right now, but I'm refusing to drive to Meijer for some.
6: I have actual conversations with my cats. I'm also considering getting a rocker and taking up crocheting to complete the crazy old lady stereotype trifecta,
7: Peter Petrelli on Heroes is H.O.T. Yum
8: Sometimes I still think about it
9: I am absolutely terrified about owning a home, but I think it will be ok
10: My church turns 4 this weekend. If you're in Cincinnati come visit us.
Do love, don't just feel it
We tend to wrongly equate "love" with "having a warm feeling toward." Jesus' teaching, however, defines love actively. It is not so much how you feel about a certain person but what you do for that person that shows love (Luke 10: 25-37). The biblical command is to do love, not to feel love.
- How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth- Fee, Stuart
9.04.2008
Buying a House is hard, and sometimes annoying
So the inspection was yesterday and went ok. Nothing major was found, the worst being the master shower but we're asking for money to fix that.
The thing is, the seller was there, the wife specifically. That really hacked my inspector off, because he said it was our time to pick apart the house and see if it was worth buying and she was getting in the way. She also was lamenting how much she didn't want to move, because she loved the house and it was there first house, they don't have anywhere to live yet, they're going to be homeless blah blah blah. She said, everyday I hope this deal falls through so I can stay in my house, even though we've so outgrown it, but my husband is set on moving...
Whatever, no big deal.
Later Brian (the inspector) said he overheard the seller on the phone talking to her husband about the THREE houses they were interested in and trying to decide which house to put an offer in on. Plus, the pool table had already been taken apart, the pool emptied and was about to be taken down and the garage was filled with packed boxes where there previously were none.
Today as I'm going over what we want on the addendum which includes 2 things we want them to fix and 1 we want them to give us the money to fix I start thinking about how hard I drove the price down from their original asking price ($10k below what they listed it for). Later my realtor calls and tells me that he was going over with their realtor what I was listing on the addendum and that we would have it to her by first thing tomorrow morning when their realtor started talking about their "cold feet". Oh, their realtor is worried because they seem to be wavering and not wanting to sell, oh the wife just doesn't want to leave at all, they're not sure anymore so don't be surprised if they aren't willing to fix those things on the addendum.
What.Ever.
So I tell my realtor that it sounds to me like they're playing a game and hoping that I back off of my pushiness on pricing and other monetary issues because they've already disclosed they'll be short selling if they go lower. I tell him that it seems to me like they're trying to play a pity card and see how much I want this house. "Oh...yeah yeah yeah, that sounds about right, huh" my realtor replies.
I then tell my realtor as clearly as possible that while I love this house, while I feel at home in this house, while I want this house so so bad I am FULLY prepared to completely walk away if they don't meet my demands on the addendum. I told him that I had some negotiation that I was willing to do and that was it, after that I wash my hands and rent an apartment and start looking again. I told my realtor that he could feel free to pass that message along to the sellers realtor since she felt free to tell him how "shaky the sale might be"
I don't like getting the feeling that people are manipulating my emotions because they see some young single woman that has to ask Daddy or some other man questions to make sure everything is ok. I ask my father and brother in law and other men (and women) questions because I realize that I don't know everything and they have bought houses before and I have not. I ask them because I respect their opinions, which doesn't mean I will take it. Not to mention that my realtor is pretty invested in selling this house for his commission, but that isn't going to happen at the expense of my mortgage payment.
I have a line, we're fast approaching it. I will go to the line and not a step on or over it.
Ugh.
The thing is, the seller was there, the wife specifically. That really hacked my inspector off, because he said it was our time to pick apart the house and see if it was worth buying and she was getting in the way. She also was lamenting how much she didn't want to move, because she loved the house and it was there first house, they don't have anywhere to live yet, they're going to be homeless blah blah blah. She said, everyday I hope this deal falls through so I can stay in my house, even though we've so outgrown it, but my husband is set on moving...
Whatever, no big deal.
Later Brian (the inspector) said he overheard the seller on the phone talking to her husband about the THREE houses they were interested in and trying to decide which house to put an offer in on. Plus, the pool table had already been taken apart, the pool emptied and was about to be taken down and the garage was filled with packed boxes where there previously were none.
Today as I'm going over what we want on the addendum which includes 2 things we want them to fix and 1 we want them to give us the money to fix I start thinking about how hard I drove the price down from their original asking price ($10k below what they listed it for). Later my realtor calls and tells me that he was going over with their realtor what I was listing on the addendum and that we would have it to her by first thing tomorrow morning when their realtor started talking about their "cold feet". Oh, their realtor is worried because they seem to be wavering and not wanting to sell, oh the wife just doesn't want to leave at all, they're not sure anymore so don't be surprised if they aren't willing to fix those things on the addendum.
What.Ever.
So I tell my realtor that it sounds to me like they're playing a game and hoping that I back off of my pushiness on pricing and other monetary issues because they've already disclosed they'll be short selling if they go lower. I tell him that it seems to me like they're trying to play a pity card and see how much I want this house. "Oh...yeah yeah yeah, that sounds about right, huh" my realtor replies.
I then tell my realtor as clearly as possible that while I love this house, while I feel at home in this house, while I want this house so so bad I am FULLY prepared to completely walk away if they don't meet my demands on the addendum. I told him that I had some negotiation that I was willing to do and that was it, after that I wash my hands and rent an apartment and start looking again. I told my realtor that he could feel free to pass that message along to the sellers realtor since she felt free to tell him how "shaky the sale might be"
I don't like getting the feeling that people are manipulating my emotions because they see some young single woman that has to ask Daddy or some other man questions to make sure everything is ok. I ask my father and brother in law and other men (and women) questions because I realize that I don't know everything and they have bought houses before and I have not. I ask them because I respect their opinions, which doesn't mean I will take it. Not to mention that my realtor is pretty invested in selling this house for his commission, but that isn't going to happen at the expense of my mortgage payment.
I have a line, we're fast approaching it. I will go to the line and not a step on or over it.
Ugh.
9.02.2008
I'll miss you most of all Scarecrow
I wrote that in a graduation letter to someone that didn't really like me that much at the time. When I was cleaning this weekend I found my diary from jr high-junior year. Oh it was deliciously dramatic.
I was flipping through the pages and kept seeing the same name pop up and realized that a good deal of that book had entries directly about or in relation to the same person. My dear friend Jake.
To spare us all the reliving of that time to sum it up would be that Jake and I were friends, then we were more, then we were way less then friends, then we were cautious friends, then we didn't talk, and now we're dear friends and I love him so very much.
The first entry in which he was named Jake approached the boy I was "dating" at the time and threatened to "kick his ass" if he hurt me in some way. I was aghast that he would have done that because he was this guy that I knew but didn't really know know at the time (ahhh high school). It continued through when he asked me to prom and I realized that he like liked me not just liked me (seriously, I wrote those ACTUAL words) I wrote about his mom not wanting us to date and how my sister and several grades of band geeks were intertwined in our drama in ways that only marching band members can be. I wrote (in detail) about "achoo bless you" and my 16 year old realization that putting people on pedestals is never wise. Falling from that pedestal doesn't only hurt the person that tumbles down, but the person that placed them up there in the first place.
I wrote of my completely irrational reaction to junk that had absolutely nothing to do with me, I wrote of the secrets I kept from him about another boy from another time and another part of my life. I wrote about the horrible way I pushed him aside for someone who turned out to be cruel and destructive. I wrote about the icy reception I received from someone I still loved so much and I wrote about the mistake it was quickly becoming apparent I had made.
I wrote about the things this other boy said and implied, the things that happened, the way the only person I really wanted to talk to about it was Jake because I remembered a Jake that told a boy once he would "kick his ass" if he ever hurt me, and this other boy hurt me. But I wrote about how I couldn't do that, because Jake wouldn't talk to me, my fault really.
As I was laying here, trying to fall asleep for the last several hours (curses!) and thinking about the good, bad, and ugly that happened between Jake and I, I kept thinking about those shared histories we have. Jake has a lot of my history, I have his. Everyday the words we say, the secrets we keep or reveal, the actions we take are creating a history with people we're in a relationship with. I have had at least 3 other diaries (although I call them journals now, because apparently that's more grown up) since then, and they're floating around here somewhere. I think about all those memories, and I think about the sweet spot of a friendship that Jake and I have now, albeit a long distance one since we're at opposite ends of the state...and I just think how much I love Jake, and I love that we're friends.
I was flipping through the pages and kept seeing the same name pop up and realized that a good deal of that book had entries directly about or in relation to the same person. My dear friend Jake.
To spare us all the reliving of that time to sum it up would be that Jake and I were friends, then we were more, then we were way less then friends, then we were cautious friends, then we didn't talk, and now we're dear friends and I love him so very much.
The first entry in which he was named Jake approached the boy I was "dating" at the time and threatened to "kick his ass" if he hurt me in some way. I was aghast that he would have done that because he was this guy that I knew but didn't really know know at the time (ahhh high school). It continued through when he asked me to prom and I realized that he like liked me not just liked me (seriously, I wrote those ACTUAL words) I wrote about his mom not wanting us to date and how my sister and several grades of band geeks were intertwined in our drama in ways that only marching band members can be. I wrote (in detail) about "achoo bless you" and my 16 year old realization that putting people on pedestals is never wise. Falling from that pedestal doesn't only hurt the person that tumbles down, but the person that placed them up there in the first place.
I wrote of my completely irrational reaction to junk that had absolutely nothing to do with me, I wrote of the secrets I kept from him about another boy from another time and another part of my life. I wrote about the horrible way I pushed him aside for someone who turned out to be cruel and destructive. I wrote about the icy reception I received from someone I still loved so much and I wrote about the mistake it was quickly becoming apparent I had made.
I wrote about the things this other boy said and implied, the things that happened, the way the only person I really wanted to talk to about it was Jake because I remembered a Jake that told a boy once he would "kick his ass" if he ever hurt me, and this other boy hurt me. But I wrote about how I couldn't do that, because Jake wouldn't talk to me, my fault really.
As I was laying here, trying to fall asleep for the last several hours (curses!) and thinking about the good, bad, and ugly that happened between Jake and I, I kept thinking about those shared histories we have. Jake has a lot of my history, I have his. Everyday the words we say, the secrets we keep or reveal, the actions we take are creating a history with people we're in a relationship with. I have had at least 3 other diaries (although I call them journals now, because apparently that's more grown up) since then, and they're floating around here somewhere. I think about all those memories, and I think about the sweet spot of a friendship that Jake and I have now, albeit a long distance one since we're at opposite ends of the state...and I just think how much I love Jake, and I love that we're friends.
Who wants milky minutes anyway?
Ahh, long weekends that include drooling over Adam Lavine are fabulous. Saturday night I came home to Deano waiting for me, which was fun...usually I just blather on to the cats as they stare blankly at me, how fun to have an actual person at home!
After we settled into our (SEPARATE) beds for the night at about 130 I was tuckered out. Sunday we went to 2nd service and chatted with some people. Deano seemed to have a good time, as always the talk sparked a great conversation at lunch after church. I love that people at my church are so friendly and welcoming...and I love best of all that it's not an act, it's a genuine love of people.
Lunch was at Panera, outside which I loved. We talked about the sermon, but also daydreamed about a time that will hopefully come soon. We also plotted out my new house and daydreamed about what it's going to be like when I'm actually in there (6 weeks!) Naturally after lunch we drove by the new house and oohed and ahhed over it. On the way back to my house we drove past an open house and decided on a whim to look around. Oh, how hilarious.
First of all, the realtor ONLY spoke to Deano. Because apparently women are to daff to understand things like: stamped concrete, central air, and new carpeting. Deano and I have decided that we're doing that more often, but we will have code names and explain the reason we're looking for a house is because of our growing family (or that we need a CIA safe house, but that could just be the 4 hours of Alias I watched today talking)
Finally, we went back to my house and started the arduous task of organizing, cleaning and packing up my apartment. In 3 hours we managed to collect, organize/discard when appropriate, and file all of my paperwork. I also cleaned out and organized my desk drawers. Yes, that's it in 3hours. That's how pathetic my personal organization skills have become. I have such hope for the new house, something about a clean slate and all that jazz.
Sunday night it was out to le jardin Olive for dinner with Tony and his g/f Sarah...yummy and I have leftovers for lunch tomorrow! Afterwards we went to putt-putt, where I subsequently got my ass kicked by all three of them, but it was fun and it was lovely to see Deano so relaxed and having a good time, especially after the last few weeks he's had.
On the way home from putt-putt Deano and I stopped for ice cream, then when we were heading back to my place on John Gray I passed a catholic festival complete with carnival rides, beer and gambling tents and FUNNEL CAKES!
So on a whim we stopped to people watch and of course, eat a funnel cake. I saw a grandma-type person complete with a cane (one with the four legs at the bottom) holding tightly in her fist a chill miller lite wearing a shirt that said "Real women drink beer". I wanted to take her picture, but I was afraid she would hit me with her cane, which Deano said was probably filled with beer.
Monday we slept, well Deano slept in until 11 and I was up around 9, in a little and then got to work packing up some stuff. Deano packed up all my books, I packed some knick knacks and further picked up and organized the little piles that have grown into one giant pile. Around 2 we headed to Sharen's for the yummiest cook in that I've had in awhile. Italian marinated chicken, corn on the cob, strawberries, homemade banana bread, pasta salad...mmmmmm. Then Deano helped me schlep all my laundry back to my house and carry it in (6 weeks and counting until I can do laundry in my own laundry room!) We spend the next few hours putting away my laundry and excavating my bedroom floor from the pile of clothes, sheets, towels, and general crap that was on it. Deano had to head home, so I plugged in some final season of Alias and packed up my massive amount of purses and random bags. They filled one large box. (I'm seriously becoming my mom)
But the good news is....while packing the purses I found a TWENTY that I had left in the purse from my trip to Portland almost exactly 1 year ago today. Gah!
Great weekend, lots of laughter and good friends. Now I can't sleep. It's 1 am and I'm wide awake. Thank goodness Conan has great guests tonight!
After we settled into our (SEPARATE) beds for the night at about 130 I was tuckered out. Sunday we went to 2nd service and chatted with some people. Deano seemed to have a good time, as always the talk sparked a great conversation at lunch after church. I love that people at my church are so friendly and welcoming...and I love best of all that it's not an act, it's a genuine love of people.
Lunch was at Panera, outside which I loved. We talked about the sermon, but also daydreamed about a time that will hopefully come soon. We also plotted out my new house and daydreamed about what it's going to be like when I'm actually in there (6 weeks!) Naturally after lunch we drove by the new house and oohed and ahhed over it. On the way back to my house we drove past an open house and decided on a whim to look around. Oh, how hilarious.
First of all, the realtor ONLY spoke to Deano. Because apparently women are to daff to understand things like: stamped concrete, central air, and new carpeting. Deano and I have decided that we're doing that more often, but we will have code names and explain the reason we're looking for a house is because of our growing family (or that we need a CIA safe house, but that could just be the 4 hours of Alias I watched today talking)
Finally, we went back to my house and started the arduous task of organizing, cleaning and packing up my apartment. In 3 hours we managed to collect, organize/discard when appropriate, and file all of my paperwork. I also cleaned out and organized my desk drawers. Yes, that's it in 3hours. That's how pathetic my personal organization skills have become. I have such hope for the new house, something about a clean slate and all that jazz.
Sunday night it was out to le jardin Olive for dinner with Tony and his g/f Sarah...yummy and I have leftovers for lunch tomorrow! Afterwards we went to putt-putt, where I subsequently got my ass kicked by all three of them, but it was fun and it was lovely to see Deano so relaxed and having a good time, especially after the last few weeks he's had.
On the way home from putt-putt Deano and I stopped for ice cream, then when we were heading back to my place on John Gray I passed a catholic festival complete with carnival rides, beer and gambling tents and FUNNEL CAKES!
So on a whim we stopped to people watch and of course, eat a funnel cake. I saw a grandma-type person complete with a cane (one with the four legs at the bottom) holding tightly in her fist a chill miller lite wearing a shirt that said "Real women drink beer". I wanted to take her picture, but I was afraid she would hit me with her cane, which Deano said was probably filled with beer.
Monday we slept, well Deano slept in until 11 and I was up around 9, in a little and then got to work packing up some stuff. Deano packed up all my books, I packed some knick knacks and further picked up and organized the little piles that have grown into one giant pile. Around 2 we headed to Sharen's for the yummiest cook in that I've had in awhile. Italian marinated chicken, corn on the cob, strawberries, homemade banana bread, pasta salad...mmmmmm. Then Deano helped me schlep all my laundry back to my house and carry it in (6 weeks and counting until I can do laundry in my own laundry room!) We spend the next few hours putting away my laundry and excavating my bedroom floor from the pile of clothes, sheets, towels, and general crap that was on it. Deano had to head home, so I plugged in some final season of Alias and packed up my massive amount of purses and random bags. They filled one large box. (I'm seriously becoming my mom)
But the good news is....while packing the purses I found a TWENTY that I had left in the purse from my trip to Portland almost exactly 1 year ago today. Gah!
Great weekend, lots of laughter and good friends. Now I can't sleep. It's 1 am and I'm wide awake. Thank goodness Conan has great guests tonight!
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