tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22931663058720843042024-03-13T15:54:12.334-04:00A Work In Process“Nobody can go back and start a new beginning,
but anyone can start today and make a new ending.”feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.comBlogger79125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-61730307590139629812011-10-15T08:45:00.009-04:002011-10-16T00:44:22.710-04:00For SteveTen days ago, I was incredibly wracked with grief over the passing of a man I've never known. <br /><br />A notification popped up on my iPhone and my heart sunk. For just a moment, everything stopped. All the ambient sounds around me faded out into a quiet buzz as I read, "Apple says former CEO and founder Steve Jobs has died". I shouted to my husband who was downstairs in the family room playing Wii with our son. He paused the game after I told him the first time. "What?!?!?" he said. I repeated the news. He stood there for a moment, silent, while he absorbed the gravity of the words he had just heard. <br /><br />This news came on the heels of Apple's unveiling of their new products and features, most notably the iPhone 4S. Around the technology community, the news of the 4S came as somewhat of a disappointment. Everyone had planned on heralding the reveal of the iPhone 5, but we didn't get the 5. We got the 4S. Even I felt disenchanted. After over two years with my iPhone 3Gs, I was ready to trade up to the almighty iPhone 5. I didn't want a 4S, I wanted a 5. I had spent my afternoon on October 4th watching several simultaneous liveblogs from the Apple event on my Macbook Pro in my kitchen while I cooked and cleaned, waiting with bated breath to see my new iPhone 5. I felt let down when there was no 5. The 4S was dazzling, a stunning revision of the phone that I've known and loved for two years and of course I wanted it...I just wished it were called a 5 instead. Despite my lack of love for the model name, I still knew that I'd be one of the many crazy people counting down the hours until midnight Pacific time on October 7th so I could snag one for both myself and one for Mr. Felicia. I was completely thrilled and overwhelmed with awe by the new option of a 64GB model. I reflected on my Facebook status that "My first computer had 64kB and took up a quarter of the desk in my childhood bedroom. My next phone will have 64GB and fit in my pocket. I know this makes me a complete nerd, but when I think about how far technology has come in my lifetime it brings tears to my eyes. It's just so damn cool."<br /><br />I will confess: I am a nerd. I've been a nerd since I was a little girl. My first computer was a Commodore 64 that my parents bought me for Christmas. Well, I'm pretty sure that my Dad got that for me more than my mother. My Dad was and is still what they call now an "early adopter". He has always loved electronics and he enjoyed having the latest, greatest toys. My C64 had a cassette tape "drive" for memory, and Dad got me a TV that could be used as a monitor from Montgomery Ward. I wish I could show you a picture of me opening that gift. I was so was geeked out that I ugly-cried in my big, hideous, early 80's glasses. I spent hours on end for days sitting at my C64, plunking out tedious code just to see an animation of a ball bouncing across the screen for a few seconds. I adored that computer. As I learned more, I began to create my own little programs and I was incredibly proud of my programming. Those childhood frenzies of creation and errors, troubleshooting and testing made me feel inspired and brilliant and confident. By the time I got to high school, the computers at school were DOS-based PC's. In school, I learned how to do a little bit more programming in BASIC. That computer class felt like slipping on an old pair of Levi's. In my entire high school education, Miss Letourneau's computer class was my favorite and it was by far the one that came the easiest to me. In college, I helped pay for my tuition by working on campus in my school's computer lab. The machines in the computer lab ran on Windows 3.0. In the computer lab, I helped students and faculty with their computer questions ("Where is the any key?" "Why doesn't my keyboard have Roman numerals?") and tinkered with Windows. I've pretty much been a PC girl for the bulk of my geekery, but I have a bit of a confession to make: I never really loved Windows. The first time I saw it, I thought to myself "Basically, it makes a PC into a Macintosh" but I didn't say it out loud. <br /><br />Throughout all of my schooling, my career after school, and into the current chapter of my life story as a stay at home mom, my nerdiness has served me well. I've adapted to and adopted new ideas, services, software and hardware. About six months ago, I ditched my trusty and clunky Dell laptop for a reliable and sexy, slick Macbook Pro. This thing is gorgeous. Without even realizing it, I had "switched" from PC to Mac. I didn't intend to switch teams. I had used a Mac sporadically when I worked for a print brokerage in my late 20's. I didn't think of using the Macbook as a change in loyalty, it was just a machine. I was fairly surprised when I noticed how much I loved the Macbook. I'm the girl who happily and quickly popped out of Windows to use the DOS shell for years. I'm the girl who used to sarcastically call Macs "Fisher Price Computers" because of their simplistically styled UI. And then I used and grew accustomed to that simple, clean, sleek, artistic, elegant UI and I fell hopelessly in love with it. <br /><br />Ten days ago when Steve Jobs' passing was announced, the corner of my heart that's shaped like an apple cried. I credit Steve Jobs with bringing technology to the masses and making it beautiful. I credit him with revolutionizing the way people consume media content. Steve Jobs took a bookcase full of my CD's and put them in the palm of my hand. He gave me the ability to buy the one song that I really liked from other CD's for a dollar. (I refuse to admit, to myself or to anyone else, how much money I've spent on music via iTunes.) I'm pretty sure that Amazon looked at the iPod and iTunes and thought, "You know, I think we could do that to books too!" and thus, the Kindle was born. Steve Jobs: architect of the intuitive interface, father of innovation, genius.<br /><br />As a person with half decent geek street cred, the imagination, inspiration, and innovation that Jobs brought to the world floods my heart with both awe and reverence. The emotional rollercoaster of the first week of October 2011 came full circle for me late last night as I experienced and explored the physical details, abilities, speed, and breathtaking beauty of my new iPhone 4S, which I dubbed Koko B. HardWare. I dressed him in a glittery aubergine suit fitting of the flair and showmanship of the WWF star he was named after. The sheer volume his 64GB of capacity awed me. His features and capabilities were even more amazing and overwhelming than they were via conference liveblog. I gazed down at this incredible feat of technology, design and development in the palm of my hand and the reality hit me as tears filled my eyes: the object that I held was Steve's swan song. It was the very last unimagined by the public but suddenly desired and instantly indispensable innovation that Mr. Jobs would ever create for the world. It was then that I recognized that it is quite fitting and not at all a disappointment that this permutation of the iPhone was not named 5. This iPhone is the 4S: For Steve.feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-57627171251101142662011-08-09T20:35:00.015-04:002011-08-09T23:50:03.505-04:00Coming out of the closet...<i><span class="Apple-style-span">For some of my friends what I'm going to tell you isn't going to come as a big surprise, because I've already talked about some of my thoughts and doubts and conclusions with you. I'd like to take a moment to thank those treasured and trusted friends for listening, for understanding and for encouraging me along the way. I am truly blessed to have friends with whom I can be totally honest and vulnerable, without fear. I cannot thank you enough for allowing me the liberty of being where I'm at without your judgement. M, B and E...I am so grateful to have you with me on my journey.</span></i><div><i>
<br /></i>_____________________________
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><span class="Apple-style-span">What up, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">blogiverse</span>. Is that even a word? It is now, I just said it. Or typed it. Whatever.
<br />
<br />I've been quiet for a long time, I know. I've been thinking. I've had A LOT to think about. I wish I knew what the catalyst was behind all of the stuff I've been working out in my mind. Oh, and before we go any further...I know what you're thinking this post is going to be about given the title, and before I say anything else I want to tell you that I'm sorry to disappoint you. I'm totally not gay. That said, I've been trying to figure out how to publicly "come out" with the many things that I've been thinking and a big part of me is bracing for massive rejection. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">*deep breath* </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I've come to the conclusion that I need to be okay with being rejected by some in order to be authentic. (This is still sounding like a gay coming out talk, isn't it?) I know I stand to lose some friends if I say this publicly. And I know that some of my friends won't just dismiss me, they'll do worse. They'll judge me, label me and condemn me, then they'll tell me that they'll pray for me because I'm so "lost".</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">So, I would like to assure you:
<br />
<br />I am SO NOT lost.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I have NEVER been MORE found.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I do not seek to belittle what has been revealed to you as truth, so please offer me that same respect. If you want to pray for me, that's fine. Just do it as Jesus taught, and I'll even drop some <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">KJV</span> on you out of deference to your preference: "And when thou <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">prayest</span>, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward. But thou, when thou <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">prayest</span>, enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father which is in secret; and thy Father which <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">seeth</span> in secret shall reward thee openly." (Matthew 6:5-6)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">So, the thing is...I'm a...<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Universalist</span>. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">There, I said it. Now you know. Hide yo kids, hide yo wife. And hide yo husband <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">cuz</span> god's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">savin</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">errbody</span> out there. You don't have to come and confess, he's looking for you. He <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">gon</span>' find you. So you can run and tell that, homeboy. (Did I just throw down some King James Version of the Bible and Antoine Dodson? Why yes, yes I did. I'm gangsta like that.)</span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">How did I get here? Well, I was created as a logical and spiritual being. (Just like you.) As my faith has evolved since I liberated myself from the indoctrination of my childhood and allowed myself to understand and define my own theology, I landed here. </span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I landed here because a god of infinite love and grace cannot logically coexist with a god of judgement and punitive discipline. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I landed here because I cannot get on board with a theology that would condemn my non-Christian friends (including the atheists, humanists and agnostics) for not saying a magic prayer when they are some of the most moral, generous, kind and genuine people I know. They are more "Christlike" than most Christians I know. If Jesus came to show us the way, and they are actually living in that way even if they don't label it as following Jesus, aren't they still actually following Christ? And if they are, would that all loving god who craves communion with his creation really choose to send them to an actual lake of fire on a technicality? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I landed here because a god who creates all people, and loves all those people, can't logically just send them out on their way with a silent kitchen timer in the background...tick <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">tock</span>, tick <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">tock</span>...and god knows whether or not each person will accept or reject before their time is up. But god sends these people out into the world already knowing what they'll choose and god allows these people to make the choice that leads to eternal damnation? That is the opposite of grace as I understand it. That is, essentially, predestined damnation. No, no, no. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I landed here because the god that I know and love and serve today is not a bully. God is love, and love just doesn't do that. Like I said, I was created as a spiritual and logical being. So my faith has to speak to my heart, AND make sense at the same time. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I still feel called to minister. I believe that I have been called to encourage others to work out their own faith as I have and will continue to do. I know in my core that I was put here to do that. I'm still learning and I'm still exploring the breadth and depth that faith has for me. I hope to do that for the rest of my life. This journey of inspiration and revelation has been challenging. But I WANT my faith to continually challenge me - what good is a faith that doesn't?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I said to one of my friends via email back in June, "My faith was so much simpler when I believed what I was told without question and I really believed I had all the answers. That chair was so comfortable to sit in for so long. Then my foot fell asleep from sitting in that chair for so long that I had to get up and walk around. Now I've seen too much while I was walking around to ever sit down in that chair again. But sometimes I miss that chair. It was comfortable, familiar, safe. What I am going through now is so much harder than sitting in that chair. The realization that I will probably not have a chair ever again is overwhelming. I feel like the best I can hope for is to cobble together a mismatched sectional that somehow works together and fits me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br />But I bet that's gonna be the best damn sofa ever."
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">So, Friends...that's my deal. And as I raise my glass to you, I offer a toast: </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Here's to authenticity, even when it's difficult. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Here's to working out our own faith.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Here's to truth.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Setting.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">You.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Free.</span></div></div></div>feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-59821303262591661872011-03-27T16:43:00.010-04:002011-03-27T17:58:57.266-04:00On parenting, discipline, faith and forgiveness - how I got to show my son the nature of God while revealing it to myself too.On Friday we had some of Moose's little friends over for lunch and a playdate after preschool. I was upstairs preparing lunch so I didn't witness the incident, but my friend was downstairs in the playroom with the children. And when I called everyone upstairs for lunch, Moose chucked a pretty decent sized toy at his friend's head and hurt his friend pretty bad. All I heard was a crack and his little friend crying, then Moose trying to flee the scene. When I heard it I made my way downstairs and asked Moose what happened and he kept saying, "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry" but in that way that you can tell a person doesn't mean it, they're just saying what they think is appropriate to say. Like when someone asks "How are you?" but they really don't care how you are, it's just the socially appropriate phrase to initiate small talk so you can have the illusion of a social interaction without any real substance. While he was being fake-sorry I asked my friend if her son was okay, and what happened. When she told me what happened I was so embarrassed and really frustrated with Moose. I mean, what in the world??? He knows better! And his poor little friend is only TWO years old and he's chucking big, heavy toys at his face?!?! My son looked up at me and I told him, "That was a very mean thing to do. We don't throw toys and we don't hurt our friends. You're grounded from your Leapster." And I looked down at Moose and I said "Look how your friend feels. What should you do?" and once my boy's eyes really SAW the results of his actions he paused and genuinely apologized to his little injured playmate. Moose's attempt at an apology hug was refused as his friend was too much in pain to leave his mother. We all came upstairs and had lunch and then everyone played together nicely after lunch until our friends went home.<div><br /></div><div>Later that afternoon, Moose asked if he could play his Leapster. And I told him no, because he was grounded from it and I asked him if he remembered what he did earlier. He said "Yes" as fresh tears rose in his eyes. And he looked at me as he blinked and the tears rolled down his fat little cheeks and he said, "But Mama, I sorry." And for a second, I thought about how he would perceive me as his parent if I backed down from his punishment. Would I be flaking out on him as his mom if I was inconsistent? Would he lose respect for my words and decisions if I didn't enforce his punishment?</div><div><br /></div><div>And then I realized that if I did enforce his punishment,<i> I would be doing exactly to him what I am so grateful that God doesn't do to me. I would be withholding forgiveness even after his confession and expression of contrition. </i></div><div><br /></div><div>Is there room for Forgiveness in Discipline? I certainly hope so. If there wasn't, there would be no hope for me, or for any of us for that matter! That's when I decided that I would seize this moment to show Moose what forgiveness is all about. I had an opportunity to show my son a tiny little peek of the kind of forgiveness and redemption that God offers to all of us.</div><div><br /></div><div>Moose was so sad remembering what he'd done earlier that day. He laid his head on my shoulder and wrapped his arms around my neck and quietly whimpered, "I'm so sorry Mama. I'm so sorry." I answered, "I know. You don't have to be be grounded anymore because I know you really are sorry and you will try to do better next time." My son flicked his head up towards me with a look of total disbelief across his face. The kid looked like he won some kind of lottery or something but his expression quickly clouded over as his relief faded into a look of worry. He said, "You not tell Daddy, okay? You please not tell Daddy I hurt my friend." I said, "Daddy already knows, but I'll tell Daddy you're not grounded anymore." </div><div><br /></div><div>Moose said, "I not grounded anymore?" as the sun started rising in his eyes, the burden of his punishment lifted. I said, "Nope. You don't have to be grounded anymore. Do you want to play on your Leapster?"</div><div><br /></div><div>And my son said, "No."</div><div><br /></div><div>He added, "I just wanna hug you now."</div><div><br /></div><div>And that's the story of the day I learned that:</div><div><ol><li>A child can learn more from forgiveness than he can from punishment. </li><li>So can I.</li></ol></div>feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-62831161962054383352011-02-16T09:27:00.007-05:002011-02-16T10:00:44.983-05:00Preschool: The Next FrontierI just dropped Moose off at school for the first time, and I'm writing this from a Starbucks about a mile and a half away.<div><br /></div><div>I am entirely too far away from my baby.</div><div><br /></div><div>Except he's not a baby.</div><div><br /></div><div>He's a boy, a fully grown boy, and he's taken over my baby like some kind of evil pod person from outer space, inhabiting the body where my baby used to be.</div><div><br /></div><div>This suuuuuuuuuuucks!</div><div><br /></div><div>But here's the thing that is messing with my head more than leaving my son in the care of someone else on a regular basis: I didn't cry.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now if you know me, you know that I openly claim crying as my "superpower". I am a crier. It used to bug the hell out of my parents and they tried to get me to not cry so much as an emotional outlet when I was little. Of course, that only made me cry more. It wasn't until I journeyed through therapy as a young adult that I claimed my ability to be quickly moved to tears as a gift. I have the gift of a tender, sensitive heart. I love big and I feel deep emotions. As a result I am usually attuned to the emotional needs of those close to me. Coming to that realization made me a little resentful of all the times my folks tried to hush my crying when I was little. Instead of nurturing my sensitive heart and bringing out the best in my natural tendencies, they tried to squash them. That experience was a hurdle for me to overcome, all those years of being invalidated only to find that not only could I use my superpower of crying for good but also it was nothing to be ashamed of.</div><div><br /></div><div>So anyways, I am quick to cry. Except not this morning. Even as I've traced over and over the morning: putting his things in his new cubby, showing him where to hang his backpack and coat, saying goodbye as he pretty much ignored me because he was playing with the other kids, watching him through the window as I walked away...I still haven't been able to muster up a tear. It's not that I don't care. I'm excited for him to transition into this next stage in life. I miss him. It is very weird to be somewhere without him. I feel very confident in our choice of preschool for him and I feel very comfortable that his sweet spirit will be nurtured and respected there. </div><div><br /></div><div>I still feel like the Worst Mother In The World for not crying. All of my Mommy Sensibilities tell me that I should be crying. I can't recall how many people told me to bring tissues today...like, everybody! But...nothin'. I don't feel like "Woo hoo! I'm FREE!" but I also don't feel like "WAAAAAAH, MY BABY, MY BABY!!!!" which I kind of thought I would. Or maybe I just thought that's how I was supposed to feel. But it wouldn't be the first time I haven't done or felt the things I thought I was "supposed to" in life. Still, I can't shake the nagging feeling inside that maybe I'm failing by not being conventional. But let's be honest: conventional is soooooo boring. I guess that in addition to the superpower of crying, I also rock the superpower of unconventionality.</div><div><br /></div><div>What, my hair didn't tip you off? </div>feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-79748303267172562292011-02-12T22:37:00.009-05:002011-02-12T23:22:10.029-05:00There's a possibility/the dogs days are over.A year ago today, I was picking Mr. up from the airport. He flew home on a one-way ticket, BWI to MDW. He came to take me away from my hometown and all my family and friends, like some kind of Grim Reaper of happiness.<div><br /></div><div>After the year we'd had previous to the move, I was full of insecurity and anxiety for the move. We arrived at our old house, where nearly everything we owned had been boxed up by me, my cousin Kim and my friend Chris. Everything was ready to be loaded into the moving truck. Only what we needed for the next few days was left out. </div><div><br /></div><div>I felt like my life was falling apart.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was walking away from everything I ever knew and loved for...for...for what, exactly??? For a blank slate that should have been pristine white, lit with sunlight and waiting for me to color all over it, but instead it was gray and cloudy and cold.</div><div><br /></div><div>I will never forget putting my iPod on shuffle as I pulled away from the house after loading the trucks on the 14th and hearing the strains of the first song in the title to this post. </div><div><br />"There's a Possibility,<br />There's a Possibility,<br />All that I had was all I'm gonn' get. "<br /><br />I cried as I pulled away. It felt like I couldn't breathe. Why couldn't "Jesus Take The Wheel" have played instead? (Because I don't own any country music.)</div><div><br /></div><div>It was around June when I met one of the girls who I would learn is one of the most genuinely kind people in the world. I was just in the right place, at the right time and I met the right person. And Friend 1 introduced me to Friend 2, who is all kinds of awesome. And then several months later, I took friend 2 out to a random meetup one night, where we met Friend 3. (Meetup is where people like me, who want to meet people but are sick of being looked at funny for being friendly in the grocery store connect with other people online and then literally meet up in real life and hopefully the other online people aren't axe murderers.) Lucky for Friend 2 and myself, Friend 3 is anything but an axe murderer. Friend 3 is so sweet, I need extra insulin just to be around her.</div><div><br /></div><div>And just like that, in a matter of less than six months, my empty social circle became full and better than anything I could have ever wished for.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was thinking about that tonight, while I was out with Friend 2 and Friend 3, and their husbands, and their kids (we are fortunate to enjoy some kind of cosmic magic where our husbands all get along and our children all love each other) while we were all out for pizza together. And I felt like the Grinch, after he steals Christmas and then hears all the Whos in Whoville singing, because my heart was so full I thought it might explode. The only thing that could have possibly made the moment better was if we were eating Lou Malnati's pizza. </div><div><br /></div><div>Then the speakers in the pizza place played the second song in the title of this post.<br /><br />"Happiness hit her like a train on a track<br />Coming towards her stuck still no turning back<br />She hid around corners and she hid under beds<br />She killed it with kisses and from it she fled<br />With every bubble she sank with her drink<br />And washed it away down the kitchen sink<br /><br />The dog days are over<br />The dog days are done..."</div><div><br /></div><div>And that's the story of how nearly a year to the day after leaving everything I've ever loved behind, I've found the most incredible existence that I didn't even know - or believe - existed. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am truly the luckiest girl in the world.</div>feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-88445816404998177462010-12-26T19:18:00.003-05:002010-12-26T21:55:43.638-05:00All because two people fell in love...I won't lie to you. I've spent the past year pretty much oscillating between hating my life and trying to make the best of what I had left. I've been depressed to the point where all it takes is a song on the radio or the sight of something that reminds me of my family and friends back home and I cry. We've found an "okay" church, but there's no place like <a href="http://sharehope.org/">HOPE</a>. Our church community in Naperville set the bar pretty high for any church we would ever find in the future. I missed my family. The thing about my family is, we could go weeks or months without talking but if any of us needed anything we'd be there for each other. So even when things were smooth sailing, I always had the security of that safety net beneath me. Having that safety net of love that gives you a safe place to land is empowering and liberating. It means you can try more things and you never really fear rejection. Because even if they reject you, your safety net stands ready to catch you and clean you up and hold you until you're all right again. I've been out here all alone. I know that my whole support system was only a phone call, text or email away but that's just not the same thing as a hug, or a long talk over a cup of coffee. It's just not the same. <br /><br />But gradually, it's gotten better. First I found a few really special people here. They are diamonds. They are truly some of the best people I've met in...forever. And I can't believe how lucky I was to just fall into knowing them. But with them, it's a little bit better. And then, I met the rest of my husband's family. Now, up until actually meeting them all I knew was what I was told by others about them. And some of it wasn't all that pretty. But we ran into each other online (Facebook rules) and chatted and they seemed cool, and then we met Mr.'s cousins and aunt. And wouldn't you know it, they were actually really good people. <em>And I'm related to them.</em> Who knew? <br /><br />Yesterday, we hosted Christmas dinner for Mr.'s extended family. And it was perfect. It was fun and the food was good and the company was wonderful. I got to know them a little bit more and bond with them a little bit more too. It was one of my best Christmases ever. And as I stood in my kitchen finishing up cooking and getting ready to serve the meal, my brain did a little rewind of all the moments that led up to this moment...(insert montage of meeting and dating and getting engaged and getting married and having a baby and moving across the country here) and I couldn't help but feel very grateful for the journey.<br /><br />At the end of the night, as folks were getting ready to go home we paused to take a big family picture in my living room. Or if you're from the Midwest, in my front room. If you're from Chicago, in my fronchroom. :) But the point is, we took a big, happy picture all together and all I could do was whisper a prayer of thanks for the gift of even more family to love. When I saw the picture after Mr. pulled it off his camera, one thing popped out at me: the phrase on the plaque on the wall behind us all (which is also the title of this post).<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1GCkkMQukAI/TRfbYQGjeTI/AAAAAAAAAEA/FI_paok-LdQ/s1600/Powers%2BChristmas%2B2010.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 257px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555149875070597426" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1GCkkMQukAI/TRfbYQGjeTI/AAAAAAAAAEA/FI_paok-LdQ/s400/Powers%2BChristmas%2B2010.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div>feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-47560612897086089682010-11-24T10:59:00.001-05:002010-11-24T11:01:54.683-05:00"I'll pray for you"This past Sunday, there was a small paragraph in the church bulletin that changed my life. No, really. Changed. My. Life.<br /><br />It read:<br /><br />Prayers of the People (inspired by a prayer of George Appleton)<br /><br />"Hold a name lovingly, trustingly before God , without diagnosing the person's need, or telling God what to do, leaving God to do, what in love is most needed.<br /><br />The name may be repeated many times, on the lips, on the mind, and then held silently in the heart.<br /><br />If Christ's name is added after the name of the one for whom we are praying, God's love is invoked to magnify our own human love."<br /><br />And I sat in my pew with a heavy heart, having very recently learned of a friend's pregnancy loss. I lowered my head and quietly repeated her name as tears of grief fell in sympathy for her family's pain. In the past I would have directly asked God for what *I* wanted for her...comfort, peace, healing, strength. But after reading that paragraph on intercessory prayer I was struck by how ridiculous it is for me to tell God what to do, how utterly foolish it is for me to think that I know what this person needs. I know nothing except that I love them and they need what only God can give. So I sat and quietly prayed my friend's name. I focused all of my thoughts and energy on her with each breath. And gently with every heartbeat, with every repetition, a silent transaction took place. My heart released all the sadness for my friend's hurt and replaced it with hope for her healing. As I emptied the pain that I didn't even have words for, it was taken up by a power much greater than my own.<br /><br />This was a very meaningful touchpoint in my faith journey. I've prayed before and I've never sensed the same release of my burden into God's care the same way. It was enlightening.<br /><br />So from now on if I tell you that I'll pray for you, there's a good chance that I won't be asking God to help you find a new job or heal you from your illness or whatever. I will simply enter a quiet space where I can focus all of my being on your name, breathing you in, breathing you out, placing you fully in God's care. Isn't that where you want to be anyways?feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-23679990525108020882010-09-28T12:07:00.004-04:002010-09-28T13:31:58.530-04:00You've come a long way, BabyToday my son is four years old. I can hardly believe it.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />As I went to sleep last night, I let my mind wander back to the days leading up to his birth. There was <a href="http://reduce-reuse-repsycho.blogspot.com/2006/09/plan-isthere-is-no-plan.html">this day</a>, where I was surprised to learn that my placenta was dying, and Jack needed to be born faster than I had anticipated. And then there was <a href="http://reduce-reuse-repsycho.blogspot.com/2006/09/score-dr-y-0-jackson-2.html">this day</a>, where I started out exhausted and hungry and wanting to just give up. I honestly believe that if someone else had walked in and said "hey, I'll have that baby for you" on that day I would have been all "Okay! I'm going to go out for a walk and a bagel, you can have this pitocin!" But after that day, I got to have <a href="http://reduce-reuse-repsycho.blogspot.com/2006/09/final-score-dr-y-2-jackson-2.html">this day</a>. I got to have this boy:<br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522007618726213858" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_1GCkkMQukAI/TKIcrCEtOOI/AAAAAAAAAD0/ZeDLjs762eA/s320/iPhone+191.jpg" /></p><p> </p><p>I know, right? SO worth it. Worth every 2 am finger stick, worth every minute of pitocin labor, worth every second of swollen feet and sore back. Completely and absolutely worth it.</p><p>The day he was born, all I knew was that I was exhausted and I was elated. He was perfect and pink. I had no idea about the amazing kid he would become. Jackson is sweet and smart. He is compassionate and caring. He would give a hungry person the last bite of his favorite sandwich. His smile lights up a room and his laughter make my heart jump for joy. He is the physical manifestation of all of my hopes and dreams of becoming a mother. He's one of the best gifts in life that God has ever given me.</p><p> </p><p>There was no part of his birthday that went the way I wanted, the way I had planned. But that was an important lesson for me to learn early on in my mothering journey: it doesn't always have to perfect. I've grown from that day of self-loathing and bullying myself as a "failure" and come to realize that there is no single one right answer or way of parenting that will be right for everybody. That was a huge lesson for Little Miss Type A Personality. From the very beginning, nothing I had planned worked out the way I thought it would, and that gave me the freedom to make it up as I go along. My boy's botched birth story is the best way I could have started on my path of motherhood. Because life is not easy, it doesn't always end up the way you thought it would and success isn't a only reward for those who plan and execute, it's also the reward of those who are flexible and adapt. When I dreamt of being a mother, I thought when God made my dreams of being a mother come true that would be the thing I was most thankful for. Instead, when I became a mom I learned to cut myself some slack, to go with the flow and to improvise. I didn't know how to do that before I was a mom. I only knew how to succeed or fail in shame, there was no inbetween. </p><p> </p><p>I guess what I'm trying to say is that becoming a mother gave me so many more important life lessons than just mothering. Becoming a mom changed me, and changed my life in ways I never expected but am forever thankful for. Sometimes I still can't believe that God let me be this kid's mom. Because this kid is amazing. He makes me a better person; I thought it was supposed to be the other way around. And if he can change my world that much in four short years, I can't wait to see what else he accomplishes in life. </p><p> </p><p>Happy fourth birthday, Jackson Phoenix. I'm so thankful that I get to be your mama.</p>feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-41994147592638161642010-09-11T20:46:00.005-04:002010-09-11T21:17:45.694-04:00We will never forgetSeptember 11th. Nine eleven. 911. The date we will all never forget.<br /><br />I don't think there's a single person who was school age and older who is alive today that has forgotten what they were doing, where they were, and how they felt that day nine years ago. It was all so surreal, like a terrible scene in a movie playing out before our eyes. But it was real. There were real people trapped and perishing. Real people missing, loved, searched for. They were fathers and mothers and sisters, daughters, sons. Families left heartbroken forever, all in an instant. It was unfathomable, the pain and confusion and anguish of that day. <br /><br />But from that complete pain and unbearable loss arose something else, too. There was a surge of unity and brotherhood around the world, as people everywhere shared their grief over the day's great tragedy. On September 11th, we were not American or British or Irish or Russian or Chinese or Mexican or...Iraqi. We were all just "us", one devastated and broken tribe of people who were compassionate to all who had experienced loss, because we all felt deep pain that day. The worst spirit in the world brought out the best spirit in the rest of us. That's the memory that is the most vivid to me.<br /><br />9/11 is something that my son will learn about in school one day. I'll probably share with him my recollection of my experiences when he's older. But I don't think I'll ever really be able to explain all of it. The sheer magnitude of the emotions of that day are overwhelming, and I don't think that any history textbook or story retelling can ever fully communicate the horror, the sadness, the grief...followed by the resolve, the strength, the international goodwill and united expression of love and compassion worldwide.<br /><br />My wish is that we would never experience another day like 9/11, and that we could all treat each other every day as if it were 9/12.feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-3006774266134973862010-08-26T16:31:00.006-04:002010-08-26T16:53:56.894-04:00Love Thursday: RedeemingHi, my name is Felicia, and I'm a crazy coupon lady.<br /><div></div><br /><div>(Hi, Felicia)</div><div></div><br /><div>In my never ending quest for the best deal on everything, I see this word frequently: Redeem. Redeem at face value. Redeem one per purchase. Redeem for $1.00 off any 3 boxes of General Mills cereal. So I redeem, redeem and redeem and I do so much redeeming that the word itself has begun to lose some of its shine. Some of its depth. Some of its <em>je ne sais quoi</em>. The other day while I was driving, I started to think about what redeeming means to me, when it comes to my walk with God. So when I got home I did what any modern girl would do, and Googled it. This is what Merriam-Webster has to say about what "redeem" means:</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 309px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509820920498716082" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1GCkkMQukAI/THbQ71ZXfbI/AAAAAAAAADk/jRzFCXZz5Yg/s400/redeem.JPG" /></div><div> </div><div>It was all the normal stuff I thought of when I thought of that word. "You are bought with a price" blah blah blah. Until I got to definition number 6, part b, section 2. "To make worthwhile."</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>I am not only bought, paid for, freed, changed and released. I have also been made worthwhile. Which would indicate that prior to my redemption, I <em>wasn't</em> worthwhile but God chose to redeem me anyways. He made me worthwhile, because of his grace, by the power of my faith and nothing else. To me, that is the single most powerful and amazing transaction to have ever taken place. He made me worthwhile. He offsets everything bad in me. That's awesome. That blows my mind. I love it so much.</div>feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-68217533449151460722010-08-15T13:36:00.004-04:002010-08-15T13:53:48.561-04:00AutobiographyI recently volunteered to be an area group leader for the mothers' group that has been our lifeline here ever since we found them. I really hadn't planned on doing that, but they asked and I have the time and all the moms there have been so great to me and Moose that I felt like I needed to give a little back to the community. Y'all know I'm a huge sucka for community service anyhow.<br /><br />Part of what I had to do to get started with my new volunteer position was write up a small bio on myself to be posted on the group's "Staff" page. I've never written out my own story before. I write out small parts of my story all the time here on my blog but I've never written out all of my own story before, or had to figure out how to condense a lifetime into two small paragraphs. I ended up writing about my family, my passions and my plans for my future. I left out a lot of my past simply because there wasn't room and it wasn't exactly relevant to the purpose of what I was writing. But I got to sit and give it some thought, and write my story.<br /><br />And then after I clicked "send", I thought about how cool it is that each of us get to write our own story every single day. That thought is so inspiring and liberating to me. Every day, I get to choose my own adventure, like those books I read in grade school. Every day, I get to write and tell my own story, and so do you! It gave me pause to consider...what story am I writing, for my husband, for my son, for even my pets? For my friends, for my brothers, for everyone I love? Our "happily ever afters" are all a daily work in process, as we cultivate love, friendship, intimacy, passion and compassion in our lives. To me, it was a refreshing and encouraging challenge to think about the story I'm writing with my life. There's not one part of my story that I would go back and erase if I had the opportunity. And for that I say thank you to all my friends and family and people I love who have been a part of my story. It's all a part of who I am today, and I really dig that chick.feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-65038783080771011732010-07-19T21:16:00.007-04:002010-07-19T22:18:38.507-04:00The sea speaksI spent some time out in the ocean today. I love the beach. I love any swimming-friendly body of water, actually. And while there is some shark, stingray and jellyfish-related debate as to whether the ocean truly is swimming-friendly, I took my chances and walked out into the salty waves this afternoon with Moose. I love the water, because in the water I am weightless and free. If you've ever seen the backside of my lap, you understand how valuable and precious I find that feeling of weightlessness. I can float and kick and frolic and I am bound only by my own will as to how far I can go.<br /><br />As the tide rolled in, my son and I jumped the waves. Well, I should rephrase. We jumped <em>some</em> waves. Other waves overtook us, and we ended up blinking and sputtering. After he grew tired from being taken down too many times, I encouraged Moose to go play in the sand with Mr. I returned to the surf, wading out into the soothing waters to rinse sand off of me. Then I sat on the shore, watching each curl of sea roll in and wash over my feet. I toyed with the sand, marvelling at the shells and pebbles. There were so many of them. Several of them were perfect, and I stashed them in the palm of my hand. My feet found a bigger shell while digging my heels deep into the sand. There's nothing like an Ocean Pedicure to scrub the rough spots from your feet. I picked up the big, thick shell and traced the edges with my fingertip. This shell was broken, but the formerly jagged edges had been brushed smooth from years of the tide rolling in and rolling out, sloughing off the rough edges with each pass. Now the edges were smooth and soft, with an elegant finish that looked bound and not broken.<br /><br />I thought I was seeking perfect, whole, decorative shells. So I tossed it back into the saline surf. Wave after wave rolled in, and the polished edge shell found its way into my hand again as if the power of the sea wished it to be there. So there I sat, with this beautifully broken shell in my hand, watching and listening to each wave roll and crash into the shore. I sat and I stared and I thought and I pondered and then I felt it in my core: I am this shell. We are all this shell. We are all floating deep and shallow on this journey of life. We get broken and chipped along the way, but the warm tides of love and grace in life wash over us and smooth our sharp edges away.<br /><br />Before I arose, another shell floated into my lap. This one was thinner. The friction of sand and pebbles over the years had worn this shell so thin that it had no center. It was as if life had drilled a hole through its heart, and the shell was now a wide open circle, embracing each polishing that came to it. Eventually, it wouldn't even resemble its former self. How I want to be this shell. Broken and polished and smooth and open. Open to life. Open to challenges and difficulties and trials that open me further. Opening me to truth, to love, to others.<br /><br />One thing I very much love about <a href="http://ucc.org/">our denomination</a> is their "God is still speaking" message. To know and love and serve a God who is not done and finished speaking to us is a special part of my walk of faith. Since God is not finished speaking to any of us, I treasure the opportunity to hear God's voice and see God's hand in small, everyday moments. As I sat there at the ocean's edge, I looked out into the majestic waves and saw the face of God. I saw God's hand as it pulled the waters in and out, smoothing and perfecting each part of every shell. And then I thought about me. And you. We are all millions of little pieces in God's universe, but God remains actively engaging with us each day. Polishing us. Working in us. Opening us. My prayer is that as I've shared these thoughts with you, that you are able to pause from your busyness for a moment to consider how God and life is breaking you to strengthen you. Roughing you up just to polish you down. My prayer is that we are all able to remain open to the beauty and wonder of a life filled with joys and pains and peace and trials, because the combination of all of these experiences are what develop our inner grace, allowing us to share it with others and opening us to experience God in our own way.<br /><br />I rose and returned into the deep to rinse the sand from my body. The waves were stronger then, as they washed me they nearly rolled me down. As I went to join my boys with shells in my hand, my legs were weak. It felt as if they'd become spaghetti. I can only surmise that those are the results of looking deep into the face of God, finding your truth there, and going forth with that truth deep in your heart.<br /><br />It was either that, or I had too much sun today.feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-31935216769948353972010-07-19T10:36:00.001-04:002010-07-19T10:36:46.735-04:00Wax on, wax offI'm flying home to Maryland after a lovely week in Chicagoland.<p>Also, I'm crying a little bit.<p>I knew it would be such a happy time to see the folks that I love so much and miss so dearly. I failed to consider how difficult it would be to say goodbye to all of them all over again. It's less traumatic than when we moved, but still hardly easy. It still smarts. I've decided that this experience of going "home" to visit, then returning to where we live now is pretty similar to a bikini wax. It hurts, significantly. I'm assuming that as I continue to visit here and back in the future, it will hurt less with each subsequent visit. Last time I could have used something to bite down on, it hurt so bad. This time it hurts so much I'd like to scream, but since that kind of behavior is frowned upon when travelling commercially I'm writing about it instead of verbalizing my feelings.<p>As the sun is setting, we rise above the Windy City. The Chicago skyline that has always captivated my spirit brings a tear to my eye. The trip was great; the farewell makes me ache inside. I wonder if anyone else on this flight feels the same way.<p>Somewhere in the middle of this trip, Moose said he wanted to go home. And then it struck me. As strongly attached as my heart is to this city as home, it's not our home. Home is where my husband, dogs, and all my stuff is.<p>As thrilled as I was to go "home", I'm also very pleased to be going home.feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-80973224173575820802010-06-23T15:46:00.004-04:002010-06-23T19:16:09.191-04:00Mommy vs. The SpiderI am married for a few reasons:<br /><br /><br /><br /><ol><li>Mr. Felicia is the best man I've ever met</li><li>I don't like taking out the trash</li><li>I need someone to kill the spiders</li></ol>Mr. knows that part of his job as Husband includes killing the spiders. The other day, I called Mr. on the intercom function on our cordless phones.<br /><br />Sidenote: I love the intercom function on our cordless phones. It really reduces my need to yell. If someone is in the basement family room, and I'm two floors up in the master bedroom, the person in the basement can't hear a thing. You can't even hear the doorbell if you're downstairs in the family room.<br /><br /><br /><br />Sometimes when I call the basement, I put on my Phone Sex Lady voice and purr something silly at Mr. Then I ask him whatever I was calling him to ask. Monday morning, I walked into the master bathroom and saw this freaking, WINGED spider with a huge blood sucking beak that was about 3" across. Scared the piss out of me. Which is highly inconvenient, when you're all tra-la-la ing to the bathroom first thing in the morning and you have to pee anyways. So I see this giant freak bug and call Mr. on the intercom to come and rescue me. He took care of it and then I was free to begin my day. I don't know what that bug was, it looked like a dragonfly and daddy long legs mated and made this freak of nature killer spidersquito dragon monster. That's what I'm officially dubbing this creature. "Spidersquito dragon monster." Because if that beak didn't suck blood, it surely spit fire.<br /><br /><br /><br />So today, I was all chilling on the sofa in the living room with Moose when I saw something out of the corner of my eye on the drapes. I saw this:<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486064168899672674" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_1GCkkMQukAI/TCJqS5JDemI/AAAAAAAAADc/CWvCiGhPGM4/s320/photo.jpg" /><br /><p>Now, you can't really tell from the picture because my iPhone doesn't zoom and it was kind of dark...but let me tell you, this thing was terrifying. It was about 4" across. I was so scared that I wanted to puke. I quickly evacuated the room of boy and dogs, and paced about trying to figure out a plan of attack. I didn't want to squish it on the drapes because that looked <em>messy</em>. And this looked like the kind of bug that would go "crunch" when you smash it, and if that happened I would throw up for sure. So I paced, and I took a picture, and I texted it to my husband saying "WHERE ARE YOU WHEN I NEED YOU, SPIDER SLAYER?!?!?" and I uploaded a picture to Facebook because I'm a total oversharer. And then I paced and worried and freaked out and Moose asked if he could come in and I told no because there is a VERY SCARY MONSTER SPIDER that Mommy has to kill. And then he freaked out and ran downstairs to hide in the family room with the dogs. He is his mother's son.</p><p>I don't know if you can see it from this picture, but this spider is a freak of nature. It had long, red FANGS. I just know the fangs were red because they were dripping with BLOOD. And it had this evil sounding breathing sounds...like Darth Vader, but more evil. And I swear to God it made eye contact with me and actually rubbed its front legs together, as if to say "Ha ha. And now I see my prey. I shall EAT YOU, silly woman with pink hair. <em>YOU LOOK DELICIOUS.</em>" I actually heard him say that, "You look delicious." And while I may be a tasty morsel, there's no way in HELL I was going out this way. Oh, no. I will NOT be a headline in the Baltimore Sun in the morning, "Area Woman Dies After Spider Attack".*</p><p>So after deciding I did not want to smoosh the giant mutant spider, I thought maybe I'd vacuum it up. But I was worried about that because:</p><ol><li>My Dyson is my preciousssss and I didn't want spider guts stuck in it</li><li>What if the vacuum doesn't actually kill the spider, but just maims it and then it can crawl out and seek vengeance on me?</li><li>Have you ever tried vacuuming a sheer curtain with a super suction powered tool like a Dyson? C'est impossible!</li></ol><p>At first, I approached Captain Mutant Ninja Spider from Arachnid Planet with some paper towels. And a small box. My game plan was that I could scoot him down off the curtain into the box and take him outside. Very gentle, very zen. Catch and release to nature where Mr. Spider could be free! But then I chickened out and plugged in Tyson the Mighty Dyson. I aimed my long telescoping wand towards the curtains. Captain Mutant Ninja Spider from Arachnid Planet simply scooted up the curtain. And that's when the screaming started. It was half fear and half Braveheart as I screamed at the spider. Captain Mutant Ninja Spider from Arachnid Planet might have screamed too. At least he should have, because at this point <em>he knew it was on</em> <em>like Donkey Kong, yo.</em> The spider crept up the curtain and I screamed more and chased him. Then he got trapped in the folds of the curtains, so I shut the Dyson off. Captain Mutant Ninja Spider from Arachnid Planet recovered, and started climbing down the curtains, so I resumed trying to suck him up, and screaming like a terrified Braveheart. Then I realized there was a small chance that Captain Mutant Ninja Spider from Arachnid Planet could fall OFF of the curtain and into MY GAPING, SCREAMING MAW<em>,</em> so I started screaming with my lips closed. This is hard to do, have you ever tried doing that? So I was yelling like "MMMMMMMWWWWWAHHHHHHHHUHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" with my lips shut while I vacuumed at him. It wasn't an even match. Captain Mutant Ninja Spider from Arachnid Planet didn't have a prayer against the Dyson. After it was done, I put that paper towel that I brought out earlier on top of the Dyson hose to maximize the suction into the canister and let it run a few minutes until I saw something big and black, with a flash of his red fangs swirling up at me. That spider better stay in there.</p><p>I hope Mr. comes home soon to take care of cleaning out the Dyson canister, and I pray I am never a widow so I don't have to deal with spiders ever again by myself! I'm also wondering how much I value having a pesticide-free home, since this is the second spiderrific freak of nature I've seen in a week. My racing heart is finally slowing down, and I'll admit it - I <em>do</em> feel a little badass after taking care of him. I hope his arachnicide sends a strong message to any other mutant spider brethren that this house is NOT one to mess with. WE WILL fight back, and we will win. I don't take kindly to 8 legged creatures around these parts!</p><p> </p><p>Update: Mr. Felicia came home from work and emptied the Dyson outside. He found Captain Mutant Ninja Spider from Arachnid Planet alive and well inside, so he was set free. After all that drama, we have a very peaceful ending as Captain Mutant Ninja Spider from Arachnid Planet and I go our separate ways. Hurrah!</p><p></p><p>*None of this paragraph is true, except the part about me not wanting to die by spider.</p>feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-66674107394911204292010-06-21T12:23:00.005-04:002010-06-21T13:59:37.400-04:00Pro Tip: How not to be my friendI don't take friendship lightly. To me, my friends are an extension of my family. They are the family that I choose. I have some new friends, but the majority of my friends are people I've considered to be friends for most of my life. Among the friends that I hold dear are people that I've loved for 5, 10, 20 or 30 years. Some of my friends are ex boyfriends. I loved them once and I still love them, albeit in a very different way. But the point is, my friends all own real estate holdings in my heart, and it is not in my nature to serve anyone an eviction notice. I don't throw friends away.<br /><br />I did have to, however, disengage myself from a relationship recently. It was a sad <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">occurrence</span>, and a rarity in my life. I am not the type of person who will grow close and attached to you, and then find some silly and small reason to dismiss everything about you that had been so precious to me. I don't treat my relationships flippantly. This friend that I had to distance myself from broke every rule in my friendship rules book, so I had to let her go. So I'm writing this primer for you, dear friends, so you don't make the same mistakes she did. So, without further ado here are The Rules:<br /><br /><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Do's</span><br /><br />1) Be honest. I will always be honest with you, even if it is difficult for me to say and harder for you to hear. Because a true friend loves you that much, and will go through that kind of emotional distress that is painful, but makes you better.<br /><br />2) Be generous. Darling, it's not all about you. Friendship is a two way street of give and take.<br /><br />3) Be funny, with the ability to be deep. There are few things in life that I enjoy more than a good joke. At the same time, there are some real, big struggles and issues in life that we will have the opportunity to traverse together. Be able and ready to go there with me. I might need you, or you might need me.<br /><br />4) Love others as much as you love yourself. I have a big, generous, giving heart. Don't take advantage. Be able to give as much as you get.<br /><br />5) Be yourself. I'm the type of person who thrives on diversity and loves meeting new people and learning about our differences in history and opinion. There's something wonderful that I love about challenging myself and what I think. I love to grow and learn and expand my horizons after being exposed to new thoughts and ideas. We may both be diamonds in the rough, but at each others' sides we can polish and perfect each other and become better people <em>together.</em><br /><br />Which leads me to the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">don'ts</span>:<br /><br />1) Don't make up some some incredibly traumatic and sad attention whore stories in an effort to make me feel piteous empathy for you. When I tell you I was molested at a young age, don't say "me too!" When I share with you how I struggled with having diabetes in my youth and trying to hide it from everybody I knew because I was ashamed to be different, don't say "me too!" It's not called trying to bond with me if it's lying. Of course, if these things are true you go on right ahead and share your experiences with me. Be genuine and true to me, because I will always be the same to you.<br /><br />2) Don't stay up until 2 am with me, discussing at length your crisis of faith because you were one faith on one side of the family and something completely different on the other when <em>none of it is true.</em> Dude, I take my theology seriously. God is not something to be trifled with. I mean, really. Don't even try to defend this. This disgusts me.<br /><br />3) Don't make up some grandiose background story about all of your amazing professional accomplishments you had before you had children. First of all, nobody like a braggart so this kind of I'm-so-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">awesomeism</span> is not going to endear yourself to me. Secondly, you made all of this up. You don't have to be a former social services attorney to get me to like you. You just have to be you.<br /><br />4) Be never too busy to call back. There are few things more irritating to me than someone who can't be troubled to return a call, email or text message. Once or twice is no big deal, everyone slips. Also, don't make a habit of cancelling or rescheduling plans at the last minute. My time and my schedule is important too! When I find that you are actually Queen of the Flakes and this is your regular behavior pattern, that makes me want to tell you to go plow. Because you're just rude.<br /><br />5) If a problem or conflict arises in our relationship, woman up and deal with it. Don't stick your head in the sand and wish it would go away. <em>Because it won't.</em> I'll just lose respect for you and view you as someone with such a lack of maturity and life skills that you can't even face me, your <em>friend</em>, and discuss real life problems in a civil manner. Don't send someone else to do your dirty work for you. Don't send in your husband or other friend as a makeshift mediator. Oh no, honey. This is between me and you and I'm not playing telephone with other people to try to get my point across. You're a grown up. Now act like it.<br /><br />I know I'm not perfect. But I do try, I try very hard to be a good person, a good wife, a good mother and a good friend. I might mess up. I won't get it right every time. But I will try, and I will always be honest and generous and kind and good to you as best as I know how. All I ask is the same in return. In this great journey of life, you're going to need some good friends. I can be one of yours, if you can master these 10 simple and easy rules.feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-61970767951019165002010-06-17T15:56:00.004-04:002010-06-17T16:30:02.784-04:00Love Thursday: JulyI'm going home. For six glorious days next month, Moose and I will be out at my friends Chris and Justin's new home (their first!). I can't wait to do so many things, like:<br /><br /><ul><li>See Chris and Justin's adorable baby girl, who has gotten so huge since I've been gone</li><li>Get hotdogs at Portillo's. There are no good hot dogs here. They GRILL them here. And put ketchup on them. (Mon horreur!)</li><li>Visit my old church, and take Moose to see Timif and Petor, who he talks about all the time and misses as much as I do (maybe more)</li><li>Eat deep dish pizza, drowning in cheese for maximum artery-clogging goodness</li><li>Maybe see my cousins, especially Tracy who will have a new baby by then</li><li>Go back to Portillo's or maybe Al's for an Italian beef. Dipped. Oh, goodness I'm drooling...</li></ul>I just can't wait. It's going to be like waiting for Christmas. I can see the skyline already, as we descend into the city. We'll be arriving at night. I can already see the lights, and it's beautiful. <em>Home.</em> Oh, home. <strong>I miss you.</strong><br /><br />And when when we get back here to the Land of Mary, we'll have two days to do laundry and then we pack it all up again to head to the beach house for a week.<br /><br />Then, before I know it, July will be over and it will be August and I will have survived one more long month since leaving everyone I've ever known behind in the Land of Lincoln. July is gonna be a cakewalk for me! Oh boy, do I ever love July*.<br /><br />And then all I have to do is make it through August and most of September, and then it will be time for our Annual Big Vacation. We're going out to California to visit Disneyland and see my friend Michelle for her biiiiiiig birthday fiesta celebration. Moose is gonna be such a well-seasoned traveler by the end of the year. I even signed him up for his own frequent flyer number. I figured I gotta buy him a ticket so he might as well earn the points, right?<br /><br />* And I love Mr. Felicia too, for being awesome and working hard so we can afford all these fun travel opportunities. And for being all "yeah I can survive just fine for a whole week without you" when I know <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0108174/">he will be cryin' himself to sleep on his huge pilla</a> every night without me, and won't know what to eat because I'm not around to feed him, and will probably forget to take his vitamins every day because I'm not there to put them in his hand. He's sweet. And generous. And compassionate about how much I miss my friends and my cousins and my hometown. When I proposed being gone for a week while he stays behind to work, he was all "Sure, baby. Go home for a week without me. That's way better than the bottle of wine you drink every night by yourself because you're sad and lonely. <em>Airfare is cheaper than rehab.</em>" Well, he didn't actually say that, but I'm pretty sure he thought it. *shame* Anyways, I'm so excited that I'm actually going to fix him a nice dinner tonight to say thanks! I'm not such a prissy prissy princess that I'd ask for plane tickets AND dinner out all in the same day**.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />**He can take me to dinner tomorrow.feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-8659840791286659212010-06-15T21:47:00.003-04:002010-06-15T21:59:10.035-04:00Special Edition - Love Tuesday!Today, I love this so much I can't wait until Thursday to tell ya about it!<br /><br /><br /><br />Behold, the chic and classic case of the <a href="http://shop.nordstrom.com/product/product_chanel.asp?productID=MALPR373">Chanel lipstick, but in an ultra moisturizing, incredibly pigmented version</a> that is so fantastical I think I might marry it...it is the Rouge Coco:<br /><a href="http://g.nordstromimage.com/imagegallery/store/product/Medium/8/_5990768.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 203px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://g.nordstromimage.com/imagegallery/store/product/Medium/8/_5990768.jpg" /></a>Oooh. Pretty.<br /><br />And what color do you want? You want Mademoiselle. It's this gorgeous, tawny rose that will look good on you. How do I know it will look good on you? Well, do you have lips? Yes? Then it will look good on you. A universally flattering perfect lipstick like this only comes along every 10 years or so...I kid you not. Rouge Coco in Mademoiselle is selling out, like, everywhere. So get out there and getcha one. This lipstick made me die of happies today. Seriously, you MUST have this. Don't make me tell you twice.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://g.nordstromimage.com/imagegallery/store/product/Medium/8/_5990768.jpg"></a>feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-74812319738051960682010-05-26T15:03:00.002-04:002010-05-26T15:22:33.068-04:00Come to the tableOne of the perks of moving is getting a whole new house to decorate and arrange. Of course, this is only a perk if you like doing that sort of thing and I do so WHEE!<br /><br />When we moved, Mr. rented a truck that was far too small to fit all of our junk in it. So we ended up abandoning stuff at the curb at our old place, and 6 of the things we left behind were our dining room chairs. So now I have this gorgeous, solid oak dining room table and NO chairs. Oh joy. I refuse to admit how many dinners we've had on the sofa on trays in front of the TV, or Japanese style, on the floor over small side tables (okay, all of them). I've been shopping for chairs everywhere, looking for ones that would match the table just right and feel useable to us. Our old chairs were oak with ivory upholstery, clearly purchased by Mr. before me, before Moose, before dogs, etc. That ivory wasn't going to hold up to a house full of messy family, they were Bachelor dining chairs. So I was okay with saying goodbye to them. But I have looked and looked for chairs that would go with the table and I am coming up dry. And then I had this novel idea...what if I get chairs that DON'T match? I mean, because they're not gonna unless I spend an arm and a leg and we are a young family with a small child and hopefully more small children some day so we aren't in the Nice Furniture Stage of life, we're in the IKEA low end and garage sale furniture stage of life so I don't cry when something gets ruined. (Because it WILL.) <br /><br />So once I made peace with the idea of chairs that don't match, my brain took it one step further. I want chairs that don't match EACH OTHER. I want all different chairs, all different colors and styles, all gathered around the table. And they will somehow all work together, they will just go together and complement each other because they're a set now. And I LOVE this idea of a variety of different chairs, all gathered around the table in my home because it's so symbolic to me. Each person in our little family is so different and unique, and each guest who comes to my table is too. Yet we all gather together in life and make it work. For me, it's not just a table. It's a small representation of the world at large, with all of its glorious differences and personalities and beliefs, everything spinning in delicate balance in a global ballet of life.<br /><br />I love it so much. Now I have to hit some estate and garage sales and find my rainbow coalition of chairs. The perfect "set" of chairs is out there, I just have to find them.feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-69117576704818149402010-05-03T22:05:00.003-04:002010-05-03T22:48:38.426-04:00HomesickI have been feeling horribly depressed. I can't remember the last time I was this homesick...college, maybe. But at least in college I could look forward to Thanksgiving/Christmas Break and tick off the days on the calendar until I could go back to the place where I felt like I belonged.<br /><br />There's nothing worse than feeling that you don't belong in your own home. That's where I'm at right now. I long for home, but I look around and <em>I am home</em> but I feel like a misfit because there's nowhere here that I belong. When taking Mr. to work, I turn onto the road and I see the sign that says go this way for Washington or that way for Baltimore and it feels like an out of body experience. Really? Those are my choices? Which way do I go to go home? Oh wait, I am home. Dammit.<br /><br />What really messes me up in the head (one thing among many, let's be honest) is that I can't even begin to cozy up to this place as my home because we won't stay here forever. The long term plan remains for me to go back to school after Mr. does his time in this job. This place will never be home. <br /><br />And then I saw this today, out of state plates, from Illinois, parked outside the mall in Columbia, Maryland, and it reminded me of something important:<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1GCkkMQukAI/S9-DIHZuKFI/AAAAAAAAAC0/Cgm4aS9vfrI/s1600/farmgod.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467232648100194386" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_1GCkkMQukAI/S9-DIHZuKFI/AAAAAAAAAC0/Cgm4aS9vfrI/s320/farmgod.jpg" /></a> There's a story, of course. There's always a story. When I was in high school, my friend introduced me to her wonderful, sweet aunt and uncle. Uncle Bob was her youth pastor at her church, and I was lucky enough to spend some time with them. Uncle Bob was one of the most genuine Christ followers I've ever met. His influence meant so much to me over the years. Anyways, Bob had a car with custom plates, just like the ones in the picture. JUST LIKE them. And I read it one day and asked Crystal why her uncle's plate said "farm god". I was laughed at, and then was told it meant "from God" because everything Bob and Robbi had was from God.<br /><br />Everything I have is from God.<br /><br />Even this ache inside for home.<br /><br />Even these tears that fall because I miss my friends, and I don't feel like I belong here, and I don't understand why I have to hurt so bad right now. <em><strong>Everything </strong>I have is from God.</em>feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-68409989305512312602010-04-29T14:34:00.002-04:002010-04-29T15:57:38.554-04:00Love Thursday - Lovely Ladies EditionOh, how I adore some of the new toys I've picked up at Sephora recently. And I found the greatest kit for the makeup handicapped (ahem, you know you who are) that will add some boom boom to their pow. So let's get on with it, shall we?<br /><br />1) <a href="http://sephora.com/browse/product.jhtml?id=P240604&shouldPaginate=true&categoryId=5737">Bare Escentuals BareMinerals SPF 15 <strong>Matte</strong> Foundation</a><br /> Oh. My. God, Becky. If you thought BE mineral foundation was okay, but didn't like how it made you all disco ball shiny, you MUST check this out. I mean, you just have to. Really, it's mandatory. Do not pass "go", do not collect $200, do not go directly to jail, and RUN, do not walk to Sephora or Ulta and get yourself a sample of this. The samples even come with a darling little kabuki brush. But that's besides the point. The point is, this is fantastic. The coverage is a light to medium <em>buildable</em> coverage. That means you buff it on sparingly for an everyday touch of "she looks nice!" to building it a little heavier for "holy crap, her skin is <em>perfect</em>!" It makes large pores and pesky freckles absolutely disappear. Get ready to have the most perfect complexion of YOUR LIFE. I'm not even kidding. And the new slide and click jar? Brilliant! No more powder all over your vanity or sink. I'm so in love with this, I might marry it. Don't tell Tim. He can't make my Grand Canyon nose pores look this good, can you blame me?<br /><br />2) <a href="http://sephora.com/browse/product.jhtml?id=P243804&shouldPaginate=true&categoryId=5984">Bare Escentuals Buxom Big & Healthy Lip Stick in "Amsterdam"</a><br /> When I was pregnant with Moose, I was on the hunt for my perfect matte nude lipstick. It was like my mission in life (aside from having a healthy baby). As it turns out, with my coloring my perfect nude was a slightly pinked nude. I found it in MAC's "Kinda Sexy" lipstick and it's been my go-to color almost every day. This is very similar to that color in shade (don't ask me why Sephora says it's a "deep raspberry" that's a lie) and finish (a sexy matte without being dry or drying) but it's a <em>plumper</em> too. Gahhhhh. Lipstickgasm! I LOVE lip plumper products. This has the kick of their Buxom formula with the perfectly neutral and pretty shade that I love. I have died and gone to lipstick heaven. I already own two. Getcha one.<br /><br />3) <a href="http://sephora.com/browse/product.jhtml?id=P257118&categoryId=C22300">tokidoki Brillante Glitter Eyeliner</a><br /> If you know nothing about me, know this: I love me some glitter. I know, I'm like, 12. I have pink and purple hair and love glitter. Whatever. Glitter comes in a couple of forms: chunky, almost confetti-like big glitter and then there's the sexy little sister, <em>microglitter</em>. This tokidoki liner is chock full of sparkly microglitter. Microglitter is the kind of glitter that makes people look at you and go "Is that glitter? Nah. Wait...nah. It's just really...sparkly." I have this liner in "Marrone" which is a deep, chocolately brown with gold microglitter in it. It's gorgeous. And the best part? No fallout. Every glitter wearer knows and dreads glitter fallout, when the glitter particles from your eye product go rogue and fall onto your cheeks. Hey, if I wanted glitter there I would have put it there! My next one of these is "Melodia" (dark gunmetal gray with gold microglitter, how yummy does that sound?!?!). I have so much love for this cute little eye pencil. I need more, I need a whole family of rocking microglitter liners. So do you.<br /><br />4) <a href="http://www.lushusa.com/shop/products/bath-shower/soap/vanilla-in-the-mist-">LUSH Vanilla in the Mist soap</a><br /> It's vanilla. And chocolate. And coconut. And flowers. And citrus. It's like freaking vacation in a soap. This will make your whole bathroom smell like heaven! It's not too stripping or drying, and the scent won't linger to compete with your fragrance du jour. It's just the nicest thing to wake up to, I adore it.<br /><br />5) <a href="http://www.sexyhair.com/play_dirty.htm">SexyHair's Short Sexy Hair Play Dirty Dry Spray Wax</a><br /> I can't even put into words how much I love this little can of miracle working goo. It gives me piecey separation without weighing my hair down. It's just enough hold that I don't need hairspray or other products too. If my 'do starts to droop, a little squish brings it back to life. It won't dry your hair out or strip your color either. And it imparts so much shine, serums are gloss sprays are unnecessary. LOVE! Oh, and did I tell you about the smell yet? It smells like coconutty tanning oil. Like, the kind you're not allowed to use anymore because you need SPF instead of frying on the beach because melanomas are NOT sexy. Available at salons (where I picked it up, from Kate The Hair Whisperer) and Ulta.<br /><br />6) <a href="http://www.lushusa.com/shop/products/corps/beurres-corporels/buffy">LUSH Buffy The Backside Slayer Body Butter Bar</a><br /> This isn't a new love of mine, I've used this product for years. But then it occurred to me that my friends might not know about Buffy, and that made me a sad panda. You rub this moisturizing and exfoliating gritty slab of butters onto your body in the shower. The shower will rinse away the exfoliating bits and leave you with skin as soft as a baby's bottom. It's so moisturizing, you won't need lotion after.<br /><br />7) <a href="http://sephora.com/browse/product.jhtml?id=P133707&shouldPaginate=true&categoryId=3806">Urban Decay 24/7 Glide-On Eye Pencil in "Crash"</a><br /> Remember how I'm so in love with glitter? CRASH HAZ IT. Just a touch of hot microglitter, enough to bring a pinch of shimmer to the windows of your soul. Crash is the kind of deep, eggplanty plum that will look great on brown, hazel or green eyes. Blue eyed girls need Underground, Lucky or Bourbon. It glides on without a single skip and wears great all day long, yet washes off easily. The <a href="http://sephora.com/browse/product.jhtml?id=P261100&shouldPaginate=true&categoryId=3806">Stereophonic set</a> is a fantastic value, $20 to try four colors and a liquid glitter liner too. It has Crash and Underground both in it, in addition to Zero which is a pure black and great for a smokey eye look as well as Gunmetal which is a steely gray with shimmer and microglitter, so hot on dark eyes. It also includes a Heavy Metal glitter liner in Midnight Cowboy, a golden beige glitter which is great for a small accent.<br /><br />and...last but not least, this sweet little treat for the non-makeup obsessed who have seriously NO CLUE what to do with eye makeup. I didn't buy it because, <em>duh,</em> I don't need it but I knew that some of you might be interested.<br /><br />8) <a href="http://sephora.com/browse/product.jhtml?id=P260306&categoryId=C16510">The Bare Escentuals Intro to Eyes kit</a>. <br /> It has EVERYTHING you need to do a perfectly polished, neutral and "done" eye look without looking too "done up". It has full step by step instructions with the brush included. It's a great little kit that will flatter any complexion or eye color. It's a great starter set, amazing value and great gift. <br /><br />In conclusion, I would like to thank my sweet husband who endures my never ending quest for better, prettier products. He's never once whined about <em>another</em> trip to Sephora, Ulta or LUSH with me, and he indulges me by comparing smears of color on my arm and deciding which one is hot enough to take home. He's always feigned interest in my pursuit of products, and for that I thank him. I guess that's the biggest thing I love on this fine Love Thursday - the patience and love of my good man. ♥feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-40198245889981084782010-04-22T09:25:00.004-04:002010-04-22T11:04:43.001-04:00Love Thursday - Earth Day EditionHow long has it been since we've had a Love Thursday around here? I know, forever, right?<br /><br />This week I'll break our Love Thursday down into two categories: things I love that are pretty cheap, and things I love that are a little investment. All of the things highlighted today are here in honor of Earth Day...think about incorporating one or two or all of my loves into your routine to reduce your waste and honor Mother Earth.<br /><br />Easy and Inexpensive ways to make Earth Day every day:<br /><br />1) Add a second trash can to your kitchen for recycling. It's a lot easier to do the third "R" when the can is sitting right there in your face. Banish the ugly blue bin to the garage or the side of the house, and keep a stylish kitchen sized trash can in plain sight (I like a step can, for hands free operation). I promise you, all of a sudden you will find yourself filling the recycle bin before your trash can is ready to be taken out. It's amazing how much recycling a small family can make! This will run you less than $10 and it's so easy to do. So do it.<br /><br />2) While you're picking up that trash can, pick up a gallon of white vinegar and an empty spray bottle. Dilute that vinegar and use it for cleaning everything....spritz onto produce for a natural and cheap fruit and veggie wash, spray into your kitchen sink as disinfectant, use as window cleaner...the possibilities are endless! Each bottle of diluted vinegar and water will cost you only pennies, and clean your home without harmful fumes or chemicals. The vinegar and the spray bottle will run you between $3 to $5 depending on where you're buying it.<br /><br />3) Are you buying this stuff at Target? Well then, you're in luck! Zip over to the automotive department and pick up a pack of their Zoom brand microfiber cloths. These are great for dusting, cleaning and general wiping up. Use these instead of paper towels, then wash and reuse over and over again. They are far superior in absorbency and surface cleaning ability to paper toweling, and will reduce your need for paper products. $5 at all Target stores.<br /><br />4) Are you reading this at work? Use this ridiculously easy tip to reduce your paper waste. Flip it over. Don't recycle anything until you've used BOTH sides of the paper. I know this is kind of a "duh" thing to mention, but you'd be surprised how many reams of office paper get trashed after only being used on one side! Tis a shame.<br /><br />5) Want to breathe cleaner air? Get a plant. Plants can purify the air of toxins. Here's a list of the <a href="http://www.care2.com/greenliving/top-ten-houseplants-for-cleaner-air.html">top 10 houseplants for cleaner air</a>. Getcha one.<br /><br />Are you ready to make a more serious investment in your family's health and respect for our planet? These things that I love are a little more spendy, but well worth it in the long run in my opinion.<br /><br />1) Reduce or eliminate the use of commercial cleaning solutions in your home by following <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Clean-House-Planet-Karen-Logan/dp/0671535951">Karen Logan's Clean House Clean Planet</a>. Make your own cleaning solutions, insect baits and repellents and so much more. This book is my cleaning "bible". I adore it. Everyone needs a copy!<br /><br />2) STOP TAKING PLASTIC BAGS FROM THE GROCERY STORE! I have a wardrobe of reusable bags, but my favorite by far are <a href="http://www.flipandtumble.com/shop.html#productonejumplink">Flip and Tumble's 24/7 bags</a>. They roll up into a little ball like a pair of socks when you're done using them - the perfect size to stash in your purse or pack. They hold up to 25 lbs, they're roomy, they're freaking adorable, and they have a long, comfy, cushioned shoulder strap handle. Pair them with <a href="http://www.flipandtumble.com/shop.html#productthreejumplink">Flip and Tumble's mesh produce bags</a> for a fully "green" reusable shopping bag solution. I recommend at least one set of produce bags, and 3 to 4 of the 24/7 bags to start up. When they get dirty, just toss them in the wash then hang them dry. They'll be ready to rock and roll again in no time.<br /><br />3) Sip out of reusable non-leaching stainless steel. Klean Kanteen are my favorite, by far. Their <a href="http://www.kleankanteen.com/products/insulated/klean-kanteen-insulated.html">double walled vacuum insulated wide mouth bottles</a> keep your latte hot up to 6 hours, and your iced tea cold for up to 24 hours! They come in 12, 16 and 20 oz. sizes (aka "tall" "grande" and "venti".) Hand washing is recommended but shhhh! I always clean mine in the dishwasher. I also love their <a href="http://www.kleankanteen.com/products/classic/klean-kanteen-27oz-classic.html">fun, bright water bottles</a>. I fill them with my Brita filtered water and stash them in the fridge for grab and go convenience.<br /><br />4) Stop buying alkaline batteries. Invest in the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Eneloop-PowerPack-183245-Original-CostCo/dp/B000WPJIME/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=electronics&qid=1271946798&sr=1-3">Eneloop Power Pack Kit</a>. These batteries are magic! 1) they come pre-charged. 2) they won't discharge when stored due to new low-discharge technology. 3) they convert from a AA to a C or D cell with a sleek little battery jacket. A C or D cell gives the same power as a AA cell, it's just a different size. So you slip your AA into the little C or D size jacket, and you instantly have whatever size battery you need! So ingenious!<br /><br />5) Switch over to CFL bulbs already. You can't beat <a href="http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/categories/departments/living_room/10744?sorting=relevance&pageNumber=2">IKEA's CFL offerings</a> for the price. I also love that IKEA takes in exhausted CFL's for proper disposal. Check out their Sparsam E26 rounded-style bulbs. So much prettier than the coil-shaped CFL's, and at $9 a two pack you can't go wrong!<br /><br />6) Switch your detergent. I LOVE <a href="http://charliesoap.com/index.asp?cartID=1BA1681DD7AE48B9A4303B701B589535">Charlie's Soap</a>! It has no fragrance, bids stains of all kinds adieu, and rinses completely clean and residue free. It's great for sensitive skin, babies, and folks with allergies. It's environmentally friendly, hypoallergenic and super concentrated. A gallon of their liquid will run you $25, but it is enough for 128 loads. Plus, the company is run by FANTASTIC family-oriented people. I love supporting the <a href="http://charliesoap.com/companyInfo.asp?cartID=1BA1681DD7AE48B9A4303B701B589535">entrepreneurial American spirit of the Sutherland family</a> instead of giving my money to a giant corporate machine.<br /><br />There are few things in life that I'm REALLY passionate about, but one of them is sustainable living. I hope these ideas that I'm sharing inspire you to make a few changes to your routine - or become more committed to the changes you've already made. Join me, as I do my best to practice <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U6IbRSRe8MQ">the 3R's</a> and preserve all the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0qX7ZsxD3Ik">beauty in the world</a>.<br /><br />"We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children." (Native American Proverb)feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-43556840722322001412010-04-17T13:57:00.007-04:002010-04-17T15:39:35.107-04:00Find your flavor.When I was four years old, a very nice lady came to my childhood home and asked my mother if I could ride the bus with her and her family to church. My mother agreed, and I was then thrust into a belief system that shaped my young faith for years. The church I attended was an Independent Fundamental Baptist church. They believe many things that I still hold as theologically true - Christ as the son of God, salvation for all bought with a price, and new life for all who believe. They also believe a lot of things that I don't agree with. They encourage men to have short "manly" hairstyles and women to have long hair, they feel women should dress in horrendously hideous items of clothing that are an abomination to the fashion world, they feel that women should be subservient to men, they feel that children should be spanked as punishment for disobedience, and they believe that all of these outer statements of faith are essential to be "in the world but not of the world" so that the dirty, unsaved masses can see that they are different, set apart, <em>holy.</em><br /><br />And that's where I have to get off the IFB boat and run. Really? Holy? Let me tell you what is holy.<br /><br />Holy is devoting a portion of your life to planning community service events, where people come together to cook or help or otherwise give of themselves to those in need with no other catalyst behind the effort but their desire to share God's love. That's holy.<br /><br />Holy is pure light and life in a child's smile, the boundless joy and pride in a parent's heart when they see their baby's first steps. And holy is loving that child enough to respect them as an individual and gently guide and nurture them with loving hands. (If God spanked you every time you did something wrong, would you listen to Him?)<br /><br />Holy is a pair of loving and committed adults that view themselves not as leader and follower, but as a team. As equals, bound by a sacred promise of fidelity. As a symbiotic relationship of strengths and weaknesses that balance each other out and encourage one another to be their personal best. That's holy.<br /><br />Holy is working to shape how the governments of the world treat all people so that they are treated as God sees them - equal, worthy, precious. That's holy.<br /><br />I don't really want people to look at my culottes and decide that I'm different. I'd rather not turn people off with my weirdness that they see on the outside before they even get to know me. (Let them get to know me and see the weirdness on the inside, that'll turn 'em off for sure!) I'm not afraid to talk about my faith journey, with anyone. I'm not shy about being thankful for the many blessings on my life that I credit the hand of the Almighty with giving to me. But I don't need long hair, culottes and a quilted Precious Moments Bible cover to share those things. I just need me. God decided that I was enough to save, I was enough to redeem, I am enough to nurture in spirit, and so then <em>it needs to be true</em> that I am enough to share my relationship with Him with others.<br /><br />The sad part about all of this is that I believe these things with all my heart, and have felt this way for years. But for years my passion was stifled in churches where I was just too weird. Too radical...too *gasp!* <em>liberal. </em>So I kept quiet. I tried to experience and claim a fullness of faith that just was too much for the mold they wanted me to stay in. It was like there was a religious glass ceiling and I was only allowed to go so far in most churches. Any further, and I'm out of bounds. I had to question...if I was out of bounds, why was God giving me passion for more? Why would He fill my heart with so much love and compassion for others but then put a cap on how far I was allowed to go with it?<br /><br />The short answer is that He didn't. Denominations and the bylaws therein are man's invention, not God's. They're all just flavors of the same ice cream. There is value in all, and they are all different because different flavors will appeal to different folks. I just hadn't found my flavor yet.<br /><br />I didn't find my flavor until I was 34 years old. I found my place among people who, like me, believe that all are equal, all are loved and all are people that God longs to have a relationship with, <em>just as they are</em>. Black, white, brown, young, old, single, married, divorced, gay, straight, handicapped, bald, whatever. There is enough love in God's heart for all, and there is a judgement-free place in a pew for you in the UCC. I love that. My denomination works tirelessly for social justice and equality, two causes that are dear to my heart. We believe that God is still speaking to us every day, and that resonates in my heart because I can't serve a God who is finished and bound up in 66 books. I need a God who is actively engaged in the day to day activities of all people, masterfully orchestrating a symphony that sings a song of life and joy and light and praise through sorrow to Him. We're not "in the world but not of the world". We are the world, and we are His. And every day we are blessed to hear <a href="http://www.vimeo.com/10977915">the language of God</a> in the nuances of life.<br /><br />Everybody has that dimension of their heart that longs for spiritual influence. So I'm writing today, for anyone who feels adrift, alone, hungry, lost, unfulfilled. Find your flavor. I don't care what it ends up being, just find it. And grow in it, revel in it, allow your personal spiritual fulfillment to quench your thirst for more in life. It's Saturday afternoon, so you have over 12 hours to find a place to start your journey on Sunday morning. Google is your friend. Get out there and learn and listen and be. I don't care if it's Pentecostal or Mennonite or Lutheran or Catholic. Just find a home for your heart. You'll be glad you did.<br /><br /><br /><br />P.S. To the fundamentalists who influenced, encouraged, and nurtured me: thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you. You introduced me to a God that I might not have otherwise encountered. You provided a sturdy springboard for me to jump from, as the Spirit made me hungry for more. Without you, I wouldn't be who I am today. Please don't take it as a sign of disrespect that I have chosen not to live the way that you do. I understand you feel that you need to do what you do, and I respect that. I feel I need to do what I do. I am content to agree to disagree on the minor things because I know we will always agree on the major things. A wise HS principal of mine said that "The main thing is to always keep the main thing the main thing" and I completely agree.feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-55147407877633962472010-03-19T15:01:00.006-04:002010-03-19T21:22:32.944-04:00RetractionOn Sunday, I wrote a post in which I said, "I miss my life." It has come to my attention that I grossly misspoke.<br /><br />I realized this last night, when Mr. found my old contacts book from my old job and brought it to me while I was in the kitchen. As I flipped through pages and pages of passwords, network configurations, IP addresses, account numbers, business cards and cell phone numbers I kind of laughed. At one time, six and a half years ago, that book was gold. It was priceless. It was indispensable for my job - for my life. And when my position was eliminated because they couldn't afford to keep me (after months of searching for a reason to fire me "with cause" when there was none), I took it all with me. Good luck to them trying to figure it out when I had all of my priceless information with me and only me. I traced the names and numbers with my fingertip and realized that at that time, this was my life. All bound up in a little book, names and numbers and birthdays and all the other information I had gathered to help me in my little career. That was my life, and now it's worthless. I threw it out.<br /><br />And then I looked around me - at my husband, toting laundry downstairs, and at my son who was sitting on the sofa, at my dirty dinner dishes as I loaded them in the dishwasher, at my dogs panting at my feet for a walk...and then it hit me. THIS is my life. This is what I wake up for every morning, this is what I am passionate about. This is what I love, and by God's grace I still have it all intact and <em>it is priceless.</em><br /><br />I drifted off to sleep last night humbled, but warm at this revelation. This morning when I rose, it was a bright and sunny day. Daffodils are sprouting up from the ground, birds are singing and the season is warming as the earth comes back to life. That's kind of how my heart feels right now.<br /><br />I'll tell ya what, it sucked moving during the winter and driving across the country through the snow. And silly me didn't see then what I realize now...by the time my heart was ready to warm up to all of the changes, it would be Spring. Spring is the season of new life, as Christian faiths celebrate Christ rising from the dead. Spring is the season when everything becomes green and lush and vibrant with a new beginning. And so it is Spring. And so I have a new beginning.<br /><br />And when I think of it in that way, I'm actually quite blessed.<br /><br />So now I'm heading out to the store, with my coupons and a plan. Because while some things change and are totally new...some things will always be the same. Time to go legally steal some cereal... :)<br /><br />P.S. I can't update my Facebook status (yet) so I'm putting this here. Happy birthday, Timoth. You're the best pastor I've ever had. Today is perhaps the best and most perfect day (for me) to celebrate the day you were born. You inspired new life into my faith journey, and awakened a path in my heart that had long been dormant and forgotten. You're incredibly precious to me, and I miss you.feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-68817858323715983922010-03-15T13:10:00.001-04:002010-03-15T13:11:47.100-04:00I know Lent isn't over, I'm not on Facebook!See, this is my <a href="http://imaworkinprocesstoo.blogspot.com/">BLOG</a>. I'm posting to my blog.<br /><br />Facebook imports my blog posts as notes.<br /><br />Sheesh. Legalists. *giggle*feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2293166305872084304.post-83505420519521985912010-03-14T23:01:00.003-04:002010-03-14T23:26:01.555-04:00Hi, it's me. I miss you.I have too many calls that I could make and say this when you answer the phone. I wanted to say I'm sorry for being a bad friend. I'm sorry for letting myself suffer quietly when I know you would have done anything to be there for me - to listen to me, to let me cry, and to tell me that it <em>will</em> get better and that you're always only a phone call away. I've been so busy unpacking boxes while feeling sorry for myself that I forgot that it's okay to reach out when I need it.<br /><br />I miss driving up to see you and watching our husbands race to eat caramel covered onions.<br /><br />I miss going to lunch or for coffee with you, and not being afraid to let you see my heart. <br /><br />I miss reaching the things on the high shelves for you at Jewel.<br /><br />I miss playing laser tag with you and dancing to the techno music in the strobe lights, and laughing so hard it hurts. <br /><br />I miss eating your taco dip even though it's covered in jalapenos, and nobody else wants to touch it. <br /><br />I'm so sad that I'm missing how glorious you look during your pregnancy. <br /><br />I miss your hand motions to Bee Gees songs. <br /><br />I miss hearing about all the races you're training for.<br /><br />I miss the way you get excited over pocky. <br /><br />I miss bringing you lattes because it makes me happy to make good people happy.<br /><br />I miss watching our children playing together.<br /><br />I miss laughing with you.<br /><br />I miss crying with you.<br /><br />I miss your hugs.<br /><br />If any of that made you wonder if I meant you, I probably did. I miss you. I know that even though I feel lonely and sad and that I miss you so much it hurts, I know you're still there.<br /><br />I promise to not replace you with new friends. I couldn't if I tried. There's only one you. I hope you know how much I love you and miss you.feliciahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13716697349576805412noreply@blogger.com0