My boyfriend is not a saint. He is not perfect. We do not have a perfect relationship. Sometimes, he gets me so mad I could spit nails. Sometimes, he has to be so logical and explain everything I feel like tearing the hair out of my head. Sometimes, he misses my joke and thinks I'm serious and tries to patiently show me the error of my thinking. He is quirky and he'll be the first one to tell you.
But he is also patient, and kind, and thoughtful, and loving. And sometimes, his character stands out to me and I remember just how very blessed I am. Last night was one of those times.
Why I love my man reason #1
Diet pepsi.
I am not actually a fan of diet pepsi. I would much prefer to drink diet coke. However, my family does like diet pepsi. On our way home from church last (that in itself is a reason to love my man...He loves the Lord. ya'll, it doesn't get much better than that) he told me we needed to stop at Stater Bros.
If you know my boyfriend you also know that he is a walking coupon ad. I don't know how much I think that he looks at the coupon section of the newspaper and memorizes it as soon as his eyes touch the page.
Why did we need to stop at Stater Bros? Let me enlighten you. Stater Bros had pepsi packs of cans 5 for 10 dollars. At least here in so. Cal soda prices have skyrocketed. And my family seems to drink soda like it's water. So Jason decided that we needed to stop because he needed to buy my family soda for cheap.
Generosity. Just one more reason why I love my man. :)
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
look in your own bowl
Quite some time ago at my church we had a sermon and the pastor was talking about looking into our own bowls. He gave the example that when he has ice cream with his two kids he would scoop each of them a bowl and hand it to them. Instead of each child being happy with what he or she had they would look into the other child's bowl and complain that they didn't have as much.
The pastor used the analogy of how God gives each of us certain things in life. He doesn't ask us to comment on what the people around us have or complain about our lack of getting something. He gives us good and perfect gifts and we should be thanking Him for our bowl instead of constantly looking into other people's. The pastor talked about how everything we haven't isn't ours anyways. It's all God's, and He lets us borrow it.
Sometimes though, that's easier said than done. I am at a poing in my life where things are changing. I have two friends that are studying abroad right now. I love to travel. I have a friend with two babies. I long to be a mommy. That same friend is about to get engaged. I dream of being a wife. Most of my friends have either graduated or are close to graduating. I still haven't transfered to a four year.
Don't get me wrong, I really have nothing to complain about. I have a job I adore. A wonderful boyfriend, an amazing church family. I've had good teachers in school and the whole rest of my life ahead of me.
Sometimes though...it's so hard to look in my own bowl.
The pastor used the analogy of how God gives each of us certain things in life. He doesn't ask us to comment on what the people around us have or complain about our lack of getting something. He gives us good and perfect gifts and we should be thanking Him for our bowl instead of constantly looking into other people's. The pastor talked about how everything we haven't isn't ours anyways. It's all God's, and He lets us borrow it.
Sometimes though, that's easier said than done. I am at a poing in my life where things are changing. I have two friends that are studying abroad right now. I love to travel. I have a friend with two babies. I long to be a mommy. That same friend is about to get engaged. I dream of being a wife. Most of my friends have either graduated or are close to graduating. I still haven't transfered to a four year.
Don't get me wrong, I really have nothing to complain about. I have a job I adore. A wonderful boyfriend, an amazing church family. I've had good teachers in school and the whole rest of my life ahead of me.
Sometimes though...it's so hard to look in my own bowl.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
A letter to those that use the vacuum cleaner in my house
Dear fellow vacuum cleaner users,
I was hoping that this day would not come. I have begged, pleaded, yes, threatened even so that this day would not arrive. But alas, you have forced me to pen this letter. I have tried to be merciful and gracious, but you have brought this upon yourself.
I have tried to see your point of view. I have listened to your opinion. And, dear family members, you are wrong. I do not understand how hard it is to empty the canister out at the end of each use. For, in by doing so, when the next person needs to use the vacuum all they have to do is get it out and use it. But no. You insist on leaving it full.
So now, I have taken desperate measures. I have written and taped a sign onto the canister of the vacuum cleaner explaining proper vacuum cleaner canister etiquette. I am embarrased for you. Do you feel no shame? Can you imagine having visitors and them seeing that you are so inept at using the vacuum cleaner that there is now a note taped to it?
Oh family, I love you. But please, please empty out the canister!
love, your fellow vacuum cleaner user,
Elizabeth
I was hoping that this day would not come. I have begged, pleaded, yes, threatened even so that this day would not arrive. But alas, you have forced me to pen this letter. I have tried to be merciful and gracious, but you have brought this upon yourself.
I have tried to see your point of view. I have listened to your opinion. And, dear family members, you are wrong. I do not understand how hard it is to empty the canister out at the end of each use. For, in by doing so, when the next person needs to use the vacuum all they have to do is get it out and use it. But no. You insist on leaving it full.
So now, I have taken desperate measures. I have written and taped a sign onto the canister of the vacuum cleaner explaining proper vacuum cleaner canister etiquette. I am embarrased for you. Do you feel no shame? Can you imagine having visitors and them seeing that you are so inept at using the vacuum cleaner that there is now a note taped to it?
Oh family, I love you. But please, please empty out the canister!
love, your fellow vacuum cleaner user,
Elizabeth
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
WFMW: Spray Adhesive
Ya'll, I have discovered spray adhesive. It is marvelous. Wonderful. Stupendous. And it works for me.
It all started when my friend Charlie was going to be leaving for Kenya on a mission trip. Having been on mission trips myself I know how crucial it was for me to write down when and where I saw God moving and the scriptures that had really spoken to me. When I returned to the states satan tried to whisper his lies in my ear. "God didn't use you. You're imagining what you wanted to have happened. You are nothing. You were worthless."
Having gone through that and knowing what a blessing and comfort that journal was to me on my return trips I wanted to supply my friend with something that might help him. All I wanted was a nice journal that wasn't girly. Do you know how hard it is to find a journal without flowers on it? C'mon now, men don't write? After searching numerous places I decided to decorate a journal. If i couldn't find what I wanted I'd make it myself. I found a journal that was hardbound, but it was ugly as sin. So then I decided that if I could find a map of Africa and paste it over the cover that would be neat. I didn't want to use glue because that tends to make paper wrinkle. That's when I discovered this.
It worked GREAT! I cut out the map so that Africa would be the cover. I sprayed the back of the map with spray adhesive, lined it up on the journal, wrapped the edges over carefully and WALAH! It worked really well. I personalized it with letter stickers by putting his name on. Since then I have made two more journals. I can't wait to see what other uses there are for spray adhesive!
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
summer fun
Last night I had been talking on the phone with my girlfriend until pretty late. When I hung up my brother came in my room and asked if I wanted to go play some games with our other brother and neighbor. I told him sure and went to go play with him.
We played a whole bunch of games. One of them was called, "what's in your milk?" It works by one person thinking of something, anything, such as cheerios. When they have decided on the one thing they are going to answer with they tell everyone that they are ready. Then everyone else who is playing asks, "What's in your milk?" and that person has to answer whatever they chose, in this case, "cheerios." The game continues with all of the other players bombarding you with really random questions and the reply always has to be "cheerios." You don't go in a circle when asking of the questions, everyone just chimes in while the person answering has to answer. The game ends when the person answering laughs.
Then we played the question game. You go around in a circle and you ask a question to the person next to you. They in turn ask a question to the person next to them. No one ever answers the questions and you're out if you laugh or smile. James, our neighbor, was SO good at this one. I sat next to him and received my questions from him and he would ask things like, "If the couch was nailed to the ceiling would you paint that clock red?" He could do it with SUCH a serious face! I was always out, I laugh way to easily.
We also played a game where you had to talk non stop for a minute without saying "um" or "like". You were given a topic, and you could make everything up, but you had to continue talking and you couldn't say "um" or "like". If you did, you were squirted with water. It was intense. My brothers are super funny so everything they said made us laugh. I'm not funny but at least I could avoid saying "um" and "like" so happily, I remained quite dry. My one brother, Jared, got the topic of "why do the french have such small mustaches?" He RAN with it, oh man, I was laughing so hard I was crying.
Then we played a whole bunch of concentration. A game that requires you to hit your knees twice, clap, and then snap. You continue doing that and the point is to keep a rhythm going. Then you choose a topic, such as fruit. One person starts by saying a fruit and you go around the circle. Each person has to say a fruit, without repeating any other fruit previously said, while keeping the rhythm. The proper time to say anything is when you are hitting your knees. If you say a fruit that's already been used or you say it out of rhythm you're out. After someone gets out you change the topic and continue until there is a winner. Ya'll, I rock at this game. :) I may not be funny but I can keep a good rhythm and have a good enough memory not to repeat things.
We stayed up until FIVE in the morning playing these games. It was so much fun. I love the last little bits of summer when you can stay up all night and sleep all day. All too soon it will be over, but the memories are wonderful!
We played a whole bunch of games. One of them was called, "what's in your milk?" It works by one person thinking of something, anything, such as cheerios. When they have decided on the one thing they are going to answer with they tell everyone that they are ready. Then everyone else who is playing asks, "What's in your milk?" and that person has to answer whatever they chose, in this case, "cheerios." The game continues with all of the other players bombarding you with really random questions and the reply always has to be "cheerios." You don't go in a circle when asking of the questions, everyone just chimes in while the person answering has to answer. The game ends when the person answering laughs.
Then we played the question game. You go around in a circle and you ask a question to the person next to you. They in turn ask a question to the person next to them. No one ever answers the questions and you're out if you laugh or smile. James, our neighbor, was SO good at this one. I sat next to him and received my questions from him and he would ask things like, "If the couch was nailed to the ceiling would you paint that clock red?" He could do it with SUCH a serious face! I was always out, I laugh way to easily.
We also played a game where you had to talk non stop for a minute without saying "um" or "like". You were given a topic, and you could make everything up, but you had to continue talking and you couldn't say "um" or "like". If you did, you were squirted with water. It was intense. My brothers are super funny so everything they said made us laugh. I'm not funny but at least I could avoid saying "um" and "like" so happily, I remained quite dry. My one brother, Jared, got the topic of "why do the french have such small mustaches?" He RAN with it, oh man, I was laughing so hard I was crying.
Then we played a whole bunch of concentration. A game that requires you to hit your knees twice, clap, and then snap. You continue doing that and the point is to keep a rhythm going. Then you choose a topic, such as fruit. One person starts by saying a fruit and you go around the circle. Each person has to say a fruit, without repeating any other fruit previously said, while keeping the rhythm. The proper time to say anything is when you are hitting your knees. If you say a fruit that's already been used or you say it out of rhythm you're out. After someone gets out you change the topic and continue until there is a winner. Ya'll, I rock at this game. :) I may not be funny but I can keep a good rhythm and have a good enough memory not to repeat things.
We stayed up until FIVE in the morning playing these games. It was so much fun. I love the last little bits of summer when you can stay up all night and sleep all day. All too soon it will be over, but the memories are wonderful!
Where I come from
I wish I had been born in the south. I really do.
I love the way the word ya'll rolls off my tongue and just sounds so darn friendly.
I love that they eat foods saturated in butter. On purpose. Without caring.
I love that people know their neighbors. And their neighbor's neighbors. And the mail man. And the person at the gas station.
I love their laid back lifestyles.
I love it.
However, I was not born in the south. At least not in a southern state in the United States. I was born in southern California.
We do not say ya'll.
Southern Californians tend to be health conscious. Is it organic? Is there any trans fat? Vegan=no more happiness when it comes to eating.
I am ashamed to tell you that I do not know a single one of my neighbor's names. Isn't that sad?
Californians rush. Always. No matter what time of day or night there are always people on the freeways. Our stores do not close at ten at night, some are even open 24 hours. No one here sits on their porch and waves at people driving by.
Ya'll, I live in southern California. But in my heart, I don't belong here.
I love the way the word ya'll rolls off my tongue and just sounds so darn friendly.
I love that they eat foods saturated in butter. On purpose. Without caring.
I love that people know their neighbors. And their neighbor's neighbors. And the mail man. And the person at the gas station.
I love their laid back lifestyles.
I love it.
However, I was not born in the south. At least not in a southern state in the United States. I was born in southern California.
We do not say ya'll.
Southern Californians tend to be health conscious. Is it organic? Is there any trans fat? Vegan=no more happiness when it comes to eating.
I am ashamed to tell you that I do not know a single one of my neighbor's names. Isn't that sad?
Californians rush. Always. No matter what time of day or night there are always people on the freeways. Our stores do not close at ten at night, some are even open 24 hours. No one here sits on their porch and waves at people driving by.
Ya'll, I live in southern California. But in my heart, I don't belong here.
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