Would you like a peach with that?

So, I was talking to my sister today to get the latest "Hannah-story." She has the funniest granddaughter in the world...seriously, the girl is hysterical.

Okay...so funny Hannah story. Judy calls Hannah and they are discussing Halloween. Judy is trying to convince Hannah to give her all of the candy that Hannah doesn't like from when she goes out Trick or Treating. After they get done with that discussion, Hannah says, "Nini, do you want to buy some cookies from me?"

Judy, aka Nini, says, "Sure. What kind do you have?"

Hannah says, "Peanut butter and chocolate chip."

Nini says, "I will take one of each."

Hannah announces to her mom, "Nini wants PEACH."

Nini says, "No, Hannah....I want ONE OF EACH."

Hannah says, "Nini wants peach."

Judy can hear Hannah's mom in the background saying, "We don't have peach."

Judy says, "Hannah, just give me one peanut butter and one chocolate chip."

Hannah tells her mom, "Okay, now Nini wants a peanut butter and a chocolate chip. She doesn't want peach anymore."

That's why McDonald's doesn't have a 4 year old running the drive-thru.

Beware of frolicking

So, today I got a phone call from a male co-worker. He was out deer hunting. He called to let me know he had just killed a deer.

I asked, "So, did you get a big buck?"

He responded, "No, it was just a doe. As a matter of fact, I'm a little embarrassed to tell you what happened."

"Come on...what happened?" I asked.

He began the story, "Well, I was up in my tree stand and two small doe came along and began to play under me. Then a big buck, I mean a monster, came down over the hill to be with the doe. Well, I put my cross hair on him and pulled the trigger. Problem was, I hadn't taken the safety off. By the time I did that, the buck heard me and took off."

"Oh, that stinks," I pipe in.

"Well," he said, "I was so mad, I put the cross hair on the doe and killed her."

There you have it....a glimpse into my world. How many times have I just been frolicking in a field....minding my own business....when suddenly a big male ego enters my field and next thing I know.....I get shot in the butt!

A formula to perfection

So, today I went to chapel. A couple from Thailand led us in a traditional Thai worship service.

It was a beautiful service. The music and songs and dance were all beautiful. As they played their music and taught us how to dance and sing before the Lord....I realized how very stiff and starched we are here in North America. We looked nothing like them....they flowed with grace and beauty, much like watching a butterfly float through the air....and then there was us...

We clunked along...moving our hands and bodies as if they weighed 100 lbs and our joints did not move in a fluid motion. We looked more like a robot.

They allow their bodies to feel the music...becoming one with the music...an extension of it, flowing out of it. We on the other hand are trying to listen to the music and calculate moves to the music.

I have children and I have watched every episode of SpongeBob Squarepants that has ever been created. There is one episode that sums up what I saw today....this is what SpongeBob usually looks like:

He has bumps and holes, not at all perfect...

But one day he decides he is too different, and he decides to become normal....and so, instead of being his different self, he works to be "normal.' Soon, his appearance begins to change to match his actions....bland and boring. Here is what his appearance changes to:

He is smooth and perfect...

I feel like we in North America have worked very hard to become "normal" in our worship....not wanting to be different or allow ourselves to "feel" anything. No, we have a calculation and a formula for "perfect, normal" worship. And so....we trudge along and soon...our worship begins to look like "normal SpongeBob."

Smell that smell

So, one of my co-workers got a brand new car. I mean a brand new...made yesterday....pulled out of the factory right into the dealership and then picked up by my co-worker, new car.

It is bright and shiny and beautiful....it has that wonderful aroma that can not be duplicated or bottled....the NEW CAR SMELL. It is an amazing smell...I love that smell. I love to look at brand new cars....dreaming of calling it my own....dreaming of opening the door and being greeted by that smell.

So, I was looking at this new car and wishing I could open the door. Suddenly I realized how privileged I am. Why? Because I begin to think about the people of the world who are starving today. I am dreaming of smelling a new car...and there are people in the world who are dreaming of smelling food, a smell of nourishment and sustenance...

They are not worried about how a shiny new car might smell....the smell of privilege....they pray to smell food....the smell of life.

Put away the Nair

So, today I heard the MOST interesting thing. A study performed by the American Mustache Institute (yes....there really is an institute for the American mustache) revealed that mustachioed men make more than their bearded and clean-shaven compatriots.

As a matter of fact....mustached men don't just make a hair more than co-workers, but 8.2 percent more than men sporting beards and 4.3 percent more than clean-shaven men.

Yes, you read that right...a mustache can get you a possible 8.2 percent raise.....

Well....let me just say this...on behalf of the Italian women in the workforce.....I guess it's time to put away the Nair and let my mustache move me up the corporate ladder!

Then we shall see face to face...

So, I am contemplating birthdays. I happen to be, not only a person who has a birthday, but a mom who has three children that have birthdays. Here is what I have come to know after 46 years of having personal birthdays....

Well, I can not tell you one dang thing about the day that I was born. I don't know what color the eyes of the doctor that delivered me was. I can not tell you how many nurses were in the room or what color scrubs that they were wearing. I can not tell you what day of the week it was when I entered this world, or what the weather was like, or even what time that I entered this world. I don't know what my mom or dad looked like at that moment, or how they reacted.

But I have had the extreme privilege of being present for three glorious "birth days," one for Katie, one for Becky and one for David. I can tell you exactly what each doctor's name was that delivered my children. I also happen to know what color those doctor's eyes were. I know how many nurses were in each delivery room and what color scrubs that they were wearing. I can tell you exactly what day of the week it was, and even the exact minute that I finally got to lay eyes on each one of my babies. It was a moment that I will never forget...

So, as a person who has lived through 46 personal "birthdays" and as a mom who has lived through 3 actual "birth days," I wonder....why don't we celebrate birthdays with the mom's on the actual birth day of their children...why don't we give gifts to the moms....the one person who can tell you every detail of that moment when they visualized the pure love that had been growing in them for 9 months.

Where my intuition leads me....

So, I happen to work in a religious institution....

Here is something that I have noticed...woman's rights do not seem to be predominant here. As a matter of fact, I would almost bet that my salary, as a woman director, is considerably less than my male counterpart.

I have also noticed that I am asked by the paramount male leadership (I think that might be redundant) to provide my "woman's intuition." Can I just tell you how offensive that is to me???

The definition of "intuition" is "the power or faculty of attaining to direct knowledge without evident rational thought and inference." WHAT THE HECK???

The antonym for "intuition" is "knowledge," "reason," or "reasoning."

Seriously?

This is what the male leadership thinks that I have to offer....only intuition. I can not have any cognitive thought.

Okay...I "feel" like I might have a solution...I am going to go and buy myself a set of bumper nuts. You have surely seen these things hanging off the back of a redneck pickup truck. Well, I figure that if I buy a pair of those and hang them from my belt on my slacks...then maybe, oh maybe, I will be able to have a cognitive thought, as I feel that this must be where men do their cognitive thinking.....and then I can maybe get some respect around here.

And....I'm going to make my set brass!