Sass and Drama

Cormac McCarthy's The Road is quite a read. I think I remember Oprah recommend it . . . I think she interviewed him. She called it a coup because he never does interviews and he did so for her. Whatever.

It has zero chapters. Just chunks of content. It's easy to read because of the way it is broken up, but sometimes I prefer an end of a chapter rather than some horizontal rule made up of dots. I'm still not quite sure what happened and where the main characters -- a dad and his son -- are travelling, but it's a road. Actually, they spend little time on the road. They hide a lot and try to make it south to the beach. I believe it is some post-nuclear war setting. They are always looking for food and supplies. Both are sick. Throughout, you can infer the dad will die or the son will die.

The son preciously calls his dad, "Papa." He's scared quite often and asks his dad never to leave him alone. When the father looked for food and supplies, he asked the boy to maintain a fire. He could then find him.

At one point, they come across an apparently old man, who states his name to be Ely, but later retracts because he doesn't want to be known. The conversation between the father and Ely centers around the planning that took place before. (I know, you are wondering before what. Who knows?). Ely profoundly states "People were always getting ready for tomorrow . . . Tomorrow wasn't getting ready for them. It didn't even know they were there."

I've always heard this same sentiment framed in more familiar language such as carpe diem, live for the day, live each day to the fullest, etc. But, yeah, tomorrow doesn't know me. Today does. Is today pleased?

Today was my second chemical peel. The first was in April.

The price of aging while still hanging on to pimples!

Since the last go round didn't seem to create the peel effect, this time they gooped me up big time. Boy I felt those chemicals at work.

So the face is tight right now and I can't wash off the stuff until tomorrow a.m.

Tonight I'll dream of smooth skin, no pimples, no wrinkles . . .

Christopher asked Jesus to be his Savior and come into his heart -- last week at the Harvest Fellowship Sports Camp.
He didn't talk about it last week -- I think because I was out of town Wednesday -- which is the day he thinks he remembers walking down.

We received a letter from Harvest today that said he had in fact prayed the prayer.

So tonight he was full of question. How could the devil be an angel and not be in Heaven? If God planned your life before you were born how do you know if you are making the right choice when there are two -- like go to one college or another. When God planned your life, did he know what you would be doing each day?

We told him this was the most important decision he will ever make. Gervais and I had been praying about this and talking about this so much. We knew he got it, we just knew he needed to take the step.

Wow . . talk about blessings. Because of the Celtics basketball team, we got to know Tom and Kim Bault. They were organizers of the camp and told us about it. And, so Christopher went.

He's guaranteed eternal life. Boy, I hope Grandmother and Granddad heard his prayer.

I've been out of town so I've missed out on the bus the past couple of days. I did take an 'urban spin' by stopping at Aveda for hair color, but Gervais picked me up because the appointment took 2 1/2 hours.

I started A Mighty Heart -- the story about Danny Pearl. A bit complicated in that Marianne Pearl attempts to describe the confusing search -- I guess it's successful in that I'm confused and I wasn't there in the middle of it. So far, there's one quote that hit me:

"Hope is a remarkable muscle."

That's all she had.

What lesson did your father teach you that still helps you in life?

Vote. Vote in all elections for which you are eligible.

My dad mailed absentee ballots to me while I was in college.

Of course, I don't vote like he wants me to, but I vote.

He exit polls my sisters and I after each election -- even water board -- to find out how we voted.

Vote.

A frequent rider of the no. 10 afternoon bus is blind with a seeing eye dog. He gets on downtown and gets off at Broadway and Josephine. On the dog's collar is a sign that reads, 'Don't pet me. I'm working.' The man sits in the front in one of the sider-rows.

Today, someone didn't read the sign.

A man drinking something other than what should be in a can of Arizona Iced Tea stumbled toward the dog and drunkedly (is that a word) bent over to pet the dog. The dog owner said 'Please don't pet my dog. He's working.' Mr. Arizona Iced Tea ignored the man and continued to pet the dog. Dog owner repeated his statement. Iced Tea said 'I'm just being friendly' or something along those lines. Ah, yes, a doozy about to go down on no. 10.

Owner: 'Do not pet him. I've asked you nicely.'

Iced Tea: 'I can do whatever I want.'

Owner: 'Leave me alone.'

Iced Tea, now seated: 'explicit, explicit, bad word.'

Driver casually glances in the rearview mirror.

Owner speaking in to his headpiece for his phone: 'Police Department. I'm on the no. 10 bus on Broadway and a man is harassing me and my dog. . . If something happens, I can't guarantee I can control myself.'

Thankfully, Broadway and Josephine arrived before something happened.

As for Iced Tea, he dropped the can upon finishing it and then watched it roll up and down the aisle a few times. At his stop, way down Nacogdoches, like five stops from my stop, he stumbles down the aisle, bends over to grab the can almost falling into an environmentally-safe Sun Harvest shopper and gets off. Off for some more iced tea, I guess.

My husband, the world traveler, left for Vegas late this afternoon. Yes, his brother's wedding is tomorrow. In Vegas.

I've bitterly kept a running total of the cost of this wedding. Money we really don't have to spend on a wedding for his brother who just happens to like Vegas and thinks it's no problem for his family to come to Vegas in the middle of the week in the middle of the summer for his wedding.

Flight to Vegas: No out-of-pocket cost. My husband traded a Southwest ticket for training. $300 we won't be seeing. 'It's a free flight.'

Tux to wear for one hour in Vegas: $110

Hotel in Vegas: Allegedly $79 a night. Two nights split between my husband and Bo. So roughly $80 before taxes. I'm counting this as $100.

Transportation in Vegas: Shuttles, taxis, etc., will probably add up to around $25. He'll split with Bo.

Food in Vegas: He's thinking all his meals will be comped. What? Are you a big-time gambler . . if so, that's another cost. If meals aren't comped, we've got two dinners, two lunches, two breakfasts for on average and I'm shooting low here $15 a meal. That's $90.

Gambling in Vegas: I believe he will limit himself to $100.

Total spent in Vegas by a person without a full-time job: $425.

Lost income because of trip to Vegas: $300

Out of pocket plus lost income for trip to Vegas: $725

Hope his brother isn't expecting a gift.

I finished Amy Grant's book Mosaic yesterday on the bus. Easy read because the chapters were short and broken up with lyrics to her songs.

The chapters were connected in that they were all personal moments to her, but they didn't follow a single vein -- not all about family or music or her husband. I enjoyed reading the lyrics and finding myself singing along.

Yesterday, I was very tired. I was going on my two weeks of insomnia and didn't have a lick of energy. On the bus, I paged through the section of the book full of color pictures and then came to the chapter titled "First Thing."

I've alwasy been impressed by Amy Grant in that she lives her life as a Christian. She's not perfect and has never said she is. Yes, she's in the public eye and has handled with incredible grace situtations in which most of us would completely crumble. Thank goodness I'm not in the public eye. My public is my family, friends and work colleagues. I ask for forgiveness from God everyday for something and strive to be more Christ-like. So does Amy Grant. Plain and simple.

The First Thing chapter focuses on her intentions to have her "first conscious thoughts" toward God each day. She admits she struggles with the habit of each morning doing a devotion of sorts. She also said she recently came up with something that does work for her. Each morning, she goes outside. She doesn't need her contacts, she doesn't need to be made up, she just goes outside and says outloud "This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it."

She says the phrase over and over, emphasizing different words helping her focus on what those two sentences mean for her. She then follows it up with The Lord's Prayer. Again, focusing on each phrase.

I'm glad I read this yesterday.

While I was extremely tired, I found myself repeating the verse over and over again. I even sang it at times. I passed it along to a couple of other colleagues -- one who I heard signing it as well. It helped me get through the day.

But our day was more than me being tired. Gervais' closest cousin died of a massive heart attack yesterday morning and now we're awaiting word on if the service is in Memphis or Atlanta. Gervais is truly upset. Christopher ended his afternoon at a med clinic getting stitches in the back of his head. At practice, he backpedaled into a corner.

Tired, death, stitches  . . . while "rejoice and be glad in it" don't really make sense nor am I saying it should, "this is the day the Lord has made" helped me. It reminded me He is ultimately in control no mattr the circumstance, no matter the situation -- as hard as it may be. Each day, He makes. Each day, He wants us to focus on Him. Each day, this day. 

This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

What's the oldest book you own?
Submitted by Lies.

Books are like friends in my family. I have many, many books from my childhood (and I am 40 years old now), but the four oldest, I think are:
1. Timmy Mouse by Miriam Clark Potter
2. The Story of Jesus by Gloria Diener Glover
3. Soda Pop by Dorothy Haas (the date my mom wrote in the book is December 1970)
4. Beth's Happy Day by Phyllis Ochocki

Yesterday, Christopher rode his bike to school with his dad following, per Christopher's request. My conscientious child wanted to make sure he chained the bike properly. After school, he rode home no problems. He memorized his code for the chain.

This morning, he was off on his own. As he got the bike out from behind the gate to the backyard, he carefully re-locked the gate. Every move was deliberate and he was extremely attentive to every detail. He made sure his patrol belt was on underneath his back pack so he could easily ride without anything in his way.

Then, he turned to me and smiled a smile that tried to express his excitement. Oh, I wish I had a camera. I prayed on the way to work for God to burn that image in to my brain so I'll never forget that exuberance, that joy -- over riding his bike to school.

I miss him at this age already.