The End of Myself

Day 6-ish: Sunday!

Another perfect day...I was a little nervous about playing and singing in the church service(s) (okay...more than a little), but today's devotional was exactly for me...which is why I volunteered to lead it at the last second. Funny that that kind of thing doesn't scare me--Maybe I just didn't have time to fear or had my mind set to other things. Or maybe I was so encouraged by the words I read that I just didn't care.

The reading for today was about being in dead-end situations. These are the situations God puts us in so He can shine. I talked about how this trip in all its preparations and in the guitar playing, etc...had really brought me to the end of myself. There were times when there was absolutely no way I could come up with the necessary funds. And then there are days like today when there seems to be no way that I can play for a crowd of people--to do what I am called upon to do. God loves it when we come to the end of ourselves though--I think He must sit up there and say "Finally! I was wondering how long it would take you!". 27 years, apparently. God wants to empty us out so He can fill us up. This is only the beginning of the "impossible" things...the "dead-ends"...He has called me to.

Less of me and more of Him. Every day.

Hot, Quiet Day

Enjoying Freez-Its in the shade of the new tabernacle!

(Day Five-ish, continued)

The day went by quickly...even though we really didn't do much...just singing, visiting, hiding out from the rain, eating...Several of the women from our team tried carrying buckets of water on their heads to the amusement of the local women.

Lunch was bacon, tomato, cucumber, butter and cheese self-assembled sandwiches. They also made fresh squeezed orange juice. I went for a refill--or what I thought was a refill. I took one big gulp and discovered I had mistaken Mazoe for OJ. Mazoe is this concentrated syrup that you are supposed to dilute with 3-4 parts water. So...straight up...pretty nasty.

Several people ran into town to buy Freez-Its, which are basically like chubby Otter Pops. People go nuts for them on days like today...which, by the way, was unbel-eeeee-vably hot! Dripping sweat in the shade. I hid out in the truck with Eva and Maggie for a while and practiced my guitar while Cookie and Jennifer role-played various HIV testing scenarios. Cookie cracks me up...I thought I remembered her as being the straight man to Jim's crazy antics. But I see now that they are both quite crazy. So much fun. And so loved by the people here. Christy is a doll too. She says such adult things but gets soooo excited over candy and her bicycle (and huckleberry jam).

Well...I guess that's it...except to say that I do miss the comfort of home a little, and my family and Rocky and Kathy a lot more. I will be excited to go home. Okay. Miss you...Good Night.

The Greats

Gerald and Tawanda dance to the "Driv-ah" song. I defy anyone to see this (or the video!) and not love life.

Day Five-ish: Saturday

Earlier (very early) in the day, we discussed what our plan would be for the Sunday service. I got put in charge of worship...but then I volunteered to go with Jim to the separate service that he was invited to preach at...so probably will be worship leading in some capacity at both services. Very scary...but there is comfort in knowing it's what I'm supposed to do, and that anything I do will be well received. I'm actually more scared of playing in front of the team than the nationals.

Tawanda and Gerald know most of our worship songs, and taught us a bunch of Shona/Ndebele songs and dances today as well. They are both really talented. I guess Gerald is in a rock worship band called Walking on Water...and Tawanda is "learning" to play guitar (much better than me) and sings really well. He has volunteered Gerald to teach me and said we would all play together. I've been letting him play my guitar too. So tempting to give it away with all the trouble I had getting it here!

(Right: Gerald teaches us a song. If I could find a way to bottle up what this guy has and spread it around, the world would be a sweeter place. His laugh alone, I am convinced, could turn it upside down. How I miss these guys!)

Zhup...BONG!

It took me like 7 shots to get that one bolt of lightning...and it wasn't even a big one!

Day Five-ish: Saturday

The storm is dying down now. Darn it. Boy did we pray for rain! The only trouble is that the roof on our tabernacle was finished today and it started to fly off in the last thunderstorm (of the day). That was a fun storm too. We had been sitting with some of the nationals, exchanging songs...when a storm came up and everyone scattered. The locals all disappeared to their homes and the rest of us, including Ephraim, Mr. C? and the ACTS crew all crowded into the ACTS Overland truck. It was such a moment!...So of course my camera quit working...But I got some video, etc..We danced to the funny "driv-ah" (driver) song (Row the Boat, Mix it Up, Sadza! Sadza!, etc...Dennis adding the garden tool dances to everyone's delight)--It was so cute. We passed around a giant bag of candy, read Laffy Taffy jokes, played concentration, the Hua (for lack of a better description...think karate chops) game, and Zhup...Bong! (Zhup passes it on and Bong reverses it). Here's a demonstration...




So yeah. That was fun.

Thundering Distractions

Day Five-ish (Finally!): Saturday

Wow. Right now Cathy and I are sheltering ourselves in our tent during the biggest thunder/rain/lightning storm. I love it...but it's even a little frightening for me! The whole tent swaying. The ground shaking. A tent flap that won't zip and bursts of sand flying in.

Tomorrow morning, Cathy has to preach a mini-sermon and I have to sing and play guitar. We are both nervous...I like having the storm to worry about instead. Besides...what cooler way to die than being struck by lightning in Zimbabwe? Well, I guess dying for a cause is "cooler"...but this is for a cause...Anyway...My mind is doing its best to distract itself.

Polaroids, Worship and Shower Refusal

My giggling Polaroid Girls

(Day Four-ish...The End!)

In another lull...from construction and braid-watching, I found 3 little girls hiding by a tree who let me take their picture. I took a Polaroid of them and they of me for them to keep. They were so delighted. They kept finding me and just giggled--and would not let go of their photos. Then the pastor's son asked me to take some photos of him. All so sweet.

Lunch of steak, green beans and squash. Second half of framing for tabernacle. It was so hot today. And we were working in the hottest part. I'm guessing it was upper 90's-100. Even the locals say it's way hot. But they still wear long sleeve shirts and pants, etc..(men). The snappy dresser from the ACTS crew even said it was unbearable. I'm not sure what part they come from--but they all speak very proper English, and snappy dresser even played worship songs on guitar tonight. (Pictured here, singing.) A little humbling since I had just bumbled my way through--not really...you can't really be humbled when you know you're lousy! It was just really cool--to hear songs we sing coming out from behind the truck.




Ephraim, a little 23 year old we befriended as soon as we arrived in Bulawayo, plays too. Beautiful. Maybe I will get a chance to learn from them. (That's Ephraim the Brave climbing up on the frame of the tabernacle!)


Everyone but me took showers tonight. I had a chance at the very end...but I was chicken. It was pitch black out except for the lantern on a rock by the shower which is under the tree. And all the giant beetles come out at night.

Well...off to bed now! Everyone else is asleep. Snoring.

Construction, School and Hair

Cathy models her new hair-do.

(Day Four-ish...still)

So...today everyone woke up (and woke me and Cathy up) around 5:30. I haven't noticed any jet lag...Just plain tired-ness. Cathy and I "showered" in the tent with Wet Ones (Instructions: #1: Wipe.) Then an awesome breakfast of french toast, Cookie's cinnamon rolls, bacon-y stuff and beans. I was full. Eva led devotions. And Dennis too, since we were a day behind. We prayed. Our foreman, Dean, arrived 8-ish and we began the tabernacle work.

When there was a lull (because something needed to be welded or torched or something...which took some finding in town and extra work--a miracle, really), all of us girls went with Cookie and the young pastor's wife (a newlywed @ 20 years old--and so cute) across the street to meet the school officials and teachers, and peek at some of the children. Monday we will be able to spend lots of time there, but today was just formal introductions, etc.

So...more building (Dean's quite a taskmaster)...mostly for me just meant holding a rope...(okay that's all it meant for about 20 out of 25 of us), and taking everyone's pictures for them.

In another lull, Cookie brought up the subject of having some of the women give us cornrows. So...for 3 hours (with a few breaks), Stacey and Carly got theirs done...Cathy's too, but hers didn't take so long.

Eat, Sing and Sleep

Tawanda from ACTS Overland (African Christian Tours and Safaris) cooks dinner.

(Day Four-ish: Friday, continued)

It was pretty close to dark once we got into Garanyemba, so we pretty much went straight to setting up the tents. Then Gerald and the ACTS crew fed us a wonderful dinner of baby potatoes, "relish", which is not relish at all, but a tomato-based almost salsa-textured but kind of sweet and super good sauce-thing. I can't remember what else we had--beans maybe and some kind of meat? (It wasn't a mystery, I just don't remember). Oh yes...and on the ride over, Cookie bought some "kapenta" fish in Gwanda, which are tiny, dehydrated, salted fish (think minnows) that they eat like potato chips...eyes and all. I tried one. Everyone else said they were super salty. I didn't taste anything but a lingering fish concentrate in my molars.

Stacey was really sick all day--throwing up, etc. The ride was pretty rough I think. And the tiny 3 seater (as in 3 across) plane we took from Johannesburg to Bulawayo would've done a choppy little number on anyone's stomach. I actually fell asleep on that plane though--with my mouth open and all--when the stewardess tapped me and asked if I wanted a drink.

So, back in Garanyemba...as soon as we rolled into town, people started coming out from nowhere. We met the members of the church we are building the tabernacle for and they sang some songs for us. We headed for bed pretty early since we were all exhausted.

Just for You, Cuchillo

Day Four-ish: Friday?

I'm sitting in my new home right next to my roommate (tentmate), Cathy. We are both writing with flashlights in the dark.

Today was an amazing day...But before that, I should say that we arrived in the tiny village of Garanyemba yesterday by the sweet ACTS Overland ride. They picked us up...and Jim, Cookie and Christy, who also met us at the tiny airport in Bulawayo. As soon as we got there and began going through customs, it began to rain. The airport is kind of open air, so you could smell it. Jim said that was the first rain they'd had in 2 years. It didn't last long, but it was a nice welcome, and seemed like a good sign for us. We have been praying for God to send His rain--in every way.

They didn't really go through any of my bags--I was a lucky one. Cathy got stopped at customs for her mysterious load of a 25 lb box of drywall screws...I guess the clerk refused to believe that they were so cheap...They would be something like hundreds and hundreds of US dollars here--if not more...I think one of the officials asked Cathy if he could go home with her.

It took about 3 hours (I think) to drive from Bulawayo to Garanyemba. I slept better on the bumpy ride in the super-truck than I had the whole trip...except that I refused to allow myself to sleep because the scenes passing by were so amazing. Bulawayo is very picturesque...at least what we saw--colorully painted shops, beautiful houses...most beautiful people who stared a bit in wonder at the big truck of white faces driving by.

The drive outside the town ("city") was gorgeous too. For lack of a better description...very very Africa. This made me happy because, flying into Johannesburg, it all looked pretty ugly. Just super brown. William had warned me that Johannesburg was a city totally without charm. (Where he lived, Durbin, and Capetown, are the South African charmers, I guess). But Zimbabwe...and its people...are beautiful.

A Beautiful Discovery

I took this photo from the window of our truck as we were driving through the streets of Bulawayo on our way to the village. The funny thing about it is, I took it because there was a woman standing in the doorway waving to me. But I don't see her there now. Maybe she was an angel...or just camera-shy and lightning fast.

Day Three-ish: Thursday? (It's so hard to know)

I have to confess that, for a large part of this trip (thus far), I have been wrestling with this "What on earth am I doing?" feeling. (It is usually accompanied by the weight of my guitar or the forced isolation that it seems to bring--just too big to fit anywhere). Anyway, I really got to wondering why God chose to make the earth so stinking big. I mean...we have airplanes to take us all around it and it still seems like a headache to reach these areas (or they us). How on earth were the early Christians to be expected to fulfill The Great Commission without airplanes? I'm being a little silly...but really...have you ever wondered why God made the earth so big? Well, driving into Zimbabwe on our spectacle causing giant truck, I think I discovered why. Because it was absolutely impossible for God to imagine His world without these beautiful people...without me. That's amazing. He is big. And He loves.

The Long Flight--Part II: Reese's, buff arms, touchdown, curly grass

William just came back from a leg stretching and said, "They're never going to publish your novel". He wants me to make him a fair isle jersey instead. He put in his order while I was knitting my turtleneck scarf.

I really wish I could get to my Reese's Pieces right now. I should've taken advantage of the leg stretching to sneak them out of the overhead. But wait. There is nothing sneaky about a 4 lb bright orange bag of candy. I might as well "sneak down" my guitar and play us a tune while I'm at it. Speaking of unsneaky guitars...boy was that hard case not the best idea. I mean...it's nice...but I WILL be the buffest right arm in the universe. If there is ever a next time for guitar traveling (heaven forbid?), I think I'll take the risk and use the soft case. But, if a super buff arm is all I have to complain about...then things are pretty good.

So, as I said, the flight from Atlanta to Johannesburg is about 17 hours. It was divided exactly in half by a pit stop on Sal Island. I do believe that was our first African touchdown. Or I think that it is Africa-owned. (It is). We weren't allowed to leave the plane for the hour or so that we were there, so I just looked around at the brown-iness of everything and the curly grass. It feels Africa-ish anyway.

Seven hours later and we are soon making the descent into Johannesburg. I can't believe we have to do this again in a week or two.

The Long Flight--Part I: William M.

I've come back from Zimbabwe (for a week now...but I've been lazy)! I'm still catching my breath in many ways. There's no internet in the wilds of Africa, so I'm just going back and posting some journal entries for you, at Mr. Bee's suggestion. I hope you enjoy. If you stick it out...you will come to a wonderful story at the end...I promise. I love you guys!


We are now seven hours out of Johannesburg, South Africa. The second leg of this flight is shaping up nicely. (Somehow I don't like those expressions when mixed). I just had a ham and cheese sandwich and water served to me by one of the cutest human beings I've ever seen. I do believe he winked at me. The way you wink at a 6 year old when their parent is sitting right next to them...which is funny because I'm sure I'm much older (than 6...and than he). My "parent" is also an adorable human being...named William M. I only know this because I took a peek at the boarding passes which were "coming out [his] ears". I have not yet worked up the courage to ask officially. Maybe in that 17th hour of flight. Seventeen hours. And an hour to refuel on the Ilha do Sal (Sal Island) . I could not ask for better company to be seated with. He has been cracking me up since take-off. He likes to make funny observations about other passengers and things. These are made all the more cute and funny by the fact(s) that he has a heavy New Zealand/South African accent and just turned 80 years old. You wouldn't know it to look at him. I know I certainly don't hope to be taking this flight when I am 80. Or 30. In his own words, he thinks he's only 40 and is always getting himself into trouble doing "stupid" things like lifting heavy objects with a bad back. But, he said if the most he has to complain about is a bad back, then things are pretty good. I wouldn't exactly call it complaining. Maybe it's the accent. And if he were a complainer, he could surely be bitter about losing his wife or his son, who was paralyzed "like Christopher Reeve" for 20 years. Instead, he just looks far away for a minute or two before coming back to his commentaries. William M. has made me want to cry...and I feel as though I've fallen in love with the world. I'm going to miss him when we part ways. He makes me feel safe...when I otherwise feel misplaced.

A random link in case you're bored...How To Speak South African

Roaring Mouse Thoughts

This morning at work, a guest said that she had overheard that I was taking a trip. So I answered, "Yep. I'm going to Zimbabwe on Tuesday." We both were shocked and laughed. I think I was just as surprised as she was. It's just not something you ever expect to hear yourself say. I'm going to Zimbabwe on Tuesday. Speaking of hearing yourself say things, the other day I left a message for my boss on the answering machine and had the misfortune of discovering it later when I came in. I honestly didn't know who it was at first. No wonder Pal would laugh at me whenever I would attempt to fight with her. I guess I'm not the lion I thought I was. And speaking of lions, I should start packing for my trip. And speaking of Pal, I should do it soon, because I think she's coming into town this weekend.

Deep Thoughts V: Permanight

Always darkest before the dawn, unless of course it's just a total eclipse. Ah crap.

Deep Thoughts IV

Au naturel

I went on a milk run this evening and decided to take the trail route. I usually like to edit my photos, but I thought God did a rather nice job on this one and didn't need my help.

Deep Thoughts IV: Don't Rock the Boat

I don't like making waves. It makes me seasick.

Deep Thoughts III

Just for You

It's a strange feeling when your day to day life is uneventful, but you know that the overall picture is nothing short of mad action thrills. What I'm trying to say is, the individual events that take place in my life haven't seemed particularly blogworthy (with the exception of Fall Retreat, in which case my lack of posting is due to sheer laziness and mental chaos), but the story that God is writing...the things He is doing inside and around me are too big to contain in a single post (or blog for that matter).

Anyway, for Tot's sake, I will try my best to update a bit. I am working on my testimony for when I go to Africa (in less than one month!!!), so hopefully you will get at least a summarized version of my (recent) life soon. Right now I am feeling both blessed and stressed. (Yes. I'm a poet and I know it...did you?). Blessed by the work God is doing in my heart and in my relationships. Blessed to be the Luckiest Girl in the World. Blessed to witness miraculous provisions. Blessed to be used by God when I am anything but useful. And stressed because I am leaving for Zimbabwe in exactly 4 weeks and I feel so unprepared. The beautiful thing about life's stresses and our God is that the two of them combined equal just another opportunity to be blown away by more blessing. I am excited. Pray for me! You will probably all be hearing from me soon through letters requesting prayer support. If I don't have your address, you can e-mail it to me. If you don't want to hear from me, you can e-mail me not to. Anyway...off to work now. This is an unusual post for me. No pictures. No witticisms. Ah well.

The Little 3-0

#1 Sister makes a wish while #2 Sister braces herslef for the extinguishing gale.

This weekend, Friday to be exact, my little-big sister turned into a big-little 30 year old. Most of her celebrations revolved around preparations for her upcoming year of missions in Russia. It wasn't all business though...




Even shopping for luggage had its goofy moments. If only she could raise funds as mannequin...

My Favorite Niece

To the dog with the softest ears...



You were one of the family and we will miss you.

Four-Eyed Spud

I'm so happy that we are finally fully staffed at work. It frees me up to do some of the really important things like baking cookies and cleaning out the cupboards. Perhaps you think that I am being sarcastic. Perhaps this photo will convince you otherwise.

Have you ever seen a more flowery tuber? Eyes nothing! Try arms and legs!

P.S. Is anyone regretting waking me from blogslumber? Just thank Your Maker I didn't post a photo of what I think was a (black) donut molded beyond recognition.

Deep Thoughts III

Sometimes the Potter's pinching and pulling hurts and I think, "God, I was so much happier when I was just a lonesome lump of clay".



But then, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a fellow work in progress, or in the Potter's eyes, and in horror I cry, "Pinch away, God. Pinch away".

Deep Thoughts
Deep Thoughts II

Blah Blah Blog

Tis true the boy cannot be blamed for my blogging absence. I don't see him much, and when I do, it looks a little something like this...












Blogging to you live from my date night with Rocket-Man

Class for Sale

On Saturday, my sister, with the help of many generous donors, had a garage sale to raise funds for her upcoming yearlong missions adventure in Russia. She told cuchillo it was The Garage Sale with Class, which is probably why we found it so hard to say goodbye to all those treasures, old and new.

(Baby cousin not for sale)

Opposite Day

Welcome to the view inside my stomach (minus the can, garbage, Boy, utensils, tables and dishes). Why am I showing you this? Because today is Opposite Day. Opposite Day is a tradition that Boy and I revived from grade school. You know...the one where you got to tell the boy you had a crush on that you thought he was super ugly and you hated him. Well, I have no intentions of telling anyone that today, because modern day opposizing exists only in the realm of food. This is the day where Boy and I get to pretend that candy is fruit, potato chips are vegetables and video games and or shopping sprees to Old Navy are the most strenuous forms of exercise one can perform. Even I have to admit, my performance today was a little weak sauce...but the night is young yet. There is still work to be done and cookie jars to raid.

The wonderful thing about Opposite Day is that it makes you incredibly eager for tomorrows filled with carrots and water. Unfortunately, my menus of late have consisted mostly of sugar and grease, so I am doubting the usual effects of the holiday. As a matter of fact, today's food consumption is not really in opposition to anything. It's just another ordinary day.

(Incidentally...that is Boy in the middle picture, showcasing our main course of chicken teryaki...with candyslaw. We get lots of funny looks when he wears that shirt. If you want to get funny looks too, you can buy your own here).

Throw Some Mistakes on the Barbie

Hmm...It appears as though this was not the first time I had been denied a fire at Fort Fizzle and had to barbecue marshmallows. Nor was it the first time that I had posted about s'mores. Three posts and counting? I guess you could call it an obsession.






Boy was not convinced that my idea was such a good one...









...especially when my chocolate accident came face to face with his brand new shoes.







Here you see my brilliant plan to solidify the liquid chocolate. Don't judge it's success by the above picture of Boy. It is not my fault that he is a pansy eater and didn't get around to eating it in time.










Incidentally...that title is a special nod to Twin. Do you remember how I ordered that free kit I saw advertised in the newspaper that said it would turn you into an Australian...and all it was was a pamphlet that said..."Throw some shrimp on the barbie!" and we laughed super hard? And do you remember how every time James tried to do an Australian accent it turned out "country"? And do you remember Country from Butte?

Forest Fires

Montana: the last best place on earth...'til somebody lights a match.

Hot and sticky
Gray and gritty
Eau de campfire
Snowing ashes
I should wear a mask
to walk to work

Smokey the Bear, where are you?

Filthy Rags

I've got something so much on my mind, that I can't seem to do anything. So I guess I'll share it with you. Maybe someone else needs to hear it. Maybe just me. Last night as I was falling to sleep, a mental movie appeared in my head of a girl, maybe me, but black and white, sitting alone in a dark place, scrubbing and scrubbing the dirt off her arm--the once white cloth turning blacker and blacker. Then a voice said "Your righteousness is as filthy rags". I sat up in bed.

I've never given much thought to this verse in Isaiah. I just always took it to mean that even our very best is worthless compared to God's perfection. I still think that's true, but somehow this gives it new meaning, which may have been obvious before to everyone but me. I suddenly realized that rags don't get filthy on their own. They start out clean, but they get filthy by cleaning something that's filthy. In my head, this girl looked pretty clean--pretty sparkly white actually--but the rag she was using was filthy and kept getting filthier. And she could never stop scrubbing because she could never get clean. In a second, I bet she could hide that rag and make everyone think she was pretty white, but she knew and the voice knew where it was hidden. What I find hard to understand is why at some point, she decided that the clean garment she'd been given as a gift would make better rags and why scrubbing her arm alone in the dark seemed better than saying "Thank You" to the One who clothed her. I guess maybe it's because undeserved gifts are the hardest ones to accept, and those matching white garments always seem to look so much better on everyone else in the family.

Thank you friends and family for challenging me not to live in hiding. Thank you for being patient with me while God works on me. I love all of you.

Therapy

I've been slackin' off pretty hard in the blogging department. Here are some potential excuses. I was still full from my lunch triathlon, stressed out by work (it can happen), de-energized by the dollar-a-day plan, or too busy with the following activities:

On Thursday, I slept the entire day. Well, from 9 am to 3:45pm when I got up and found an e-mail from my friend, Bee, asking if we were still going hiking. We sort of have a hiking routine worked out, but we stick to it maybe one week out of the month. I can think of a total of 2 hikes we have taken. So naturally, waking up in the 90 degree weather and being a little unexplainably melancholy, I was not too eager in my response. She suggested we stretch our legs at the mall's sidewalk sale instead. I agreed and suggested DQ as well. Luckily you can still get a cone for a dollar there. I wasn't feeling too dilly-bar-y after my last experience. Anyway, I know this is how half the world thinks that girls are, and I hate to confirm their manly suspicions, but shopping with Bee was the perfect cheer-up session. We talked about what we will wear when we are old old and what these con-found-ed youngsters are wearing (or not wearing) these days. We enforced a shirts-only shopping rule because of our respective fat days. Bee said, whilst we ate our DQ, that you should wear striped pants on fat days, and I said, in between cone licks, not if your striped pants are too tight.

In the end, we decided on matching shoes. This is where the entire man universe and a few ladies who balk at being stereotyped produce a collective eyeroll. Matching sparkling shoes. Bee said "Shoes are the perfect pick-me-up". Retail therapy. I know. I never thought I'd say it either. Seriously though, doesn't it kind of make you happy to look at them? And when's the last time you were too fat for your shoes? On the way out, we met some band members on the Warped Tour. I felt bad for rushing by them, but we were in a hurry. At least I could've had them sign our shoes.

Here are some other highly recommended forms of therapy:

Visit Rocket and his very own handsomest man on the planet at the meat market.

Bake mass quantities of cookies for a Zimbabwe-fundraising bakesale with your friend who is kind enough to assist and volunteer their kitchen.

Watch Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (the oldie) in a schoolyard at night and witness a falling star (which is apparently just space garbage, but don't let that keep you from making a wish).

Witness Cuchillo and his impersonation of One-Eyed Whisman (aka Rocky the Rockhound). Then draw a picture of it later at work. Then wonder what the heck is up with his arm and ask yourself if you should not take some courses in human anatomy.

Thanks to my friends and their therapy.

Belated Birthday Lunch Triathlon

Fella bought me a belated birthday lunch yesterday. Actually, he bought me several belated lunches yesterday. This was number two and three. For some reason (I don't remember what it was, but then I guess we were never the kind to need one), we decided it would be a good idea to have a lunch triathlon. First stop: Trenary's, the Irish restaurant famous for The Matador, but famous to us for The Halibut Sandwich. Second stop: Hoagieville. Third stop: Dairy Queen. We pooped out on the 3rd leg of the race, but only because we discovered that Hoagieville had giant (Oreo) shakes which negated the need (yes, need) for DQ. So it isn't really pooping out, per se. It's more like getting off your bike and deciding not to finish the race. So, instead of running the course, you run back to your car which happens to be parked 3.1 miles away, or 26.2 miles, if you're an ironman. Am I right, Fella? It's been a while. We were comparing it to the Nap's challenge which is still on the agenda ('though Fella has already conquered), and Fella says we're probably only 60% there. This is bad news considering how excited I was at the idea of having a missions fundraising hot dog/Oreo eating competition between #1 Sister, LaFalda and I. Fella and I deliberated over whether gambling and gluttony would be an offensive way to raise funds for missions, but decided it was all for a good cause. Possibly a moot point now.

Fella in a "real" triathlon

Thanks for the lunches, Fella. It just occurred to me that you probably hate that name. It sounds like a horse's name. That's funny. Love you, kid. Always will.