Matthew 16: 15 - He said to them (his disciples) "Who do you say that I am?" and Peter answered and said, "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God."
John 14:6 ~ Jesus said to him, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father, but through me."
I have been struggling, oh let's say for most of my life, with organized religion. What if the Catholics have it all "right" and you can't actually make it past purgatory unless you jump through all their hoops? What if the "big bang" was how it all got started....although evolution offers me nothing as far as a savior, a relationship, or even the "do good" theory. What if the Jehovah's Witnesses have the truth and only 144,000, wearing a white shirt and black tie, are going to literally die happy? I wasn't baptized until I was a teenager. What if I would have died before that? None of my kids have been baptized. Oooops. That's not even to mention the wackos, the extremists, the Methodists, the Buddhists, the Baptists, the Jews, or the Muslims. But the good news is Sunday night I got "saved." Saved from all my questions. Saved from my doubts as of late. Saved from the cult of christianity that judges others and therefore they themselves have the nastiest of labels stamped on them. Saved from the hierarchy of it all from the Pope to Jerry Falwell. In the gutted Grand Village Mall, seated in a circle along with 2500 or so others, I heard the simplest, aimed-straight-at-me-more-of-a-story-rather-than-a-sermon message. The simplicity was striking. I was created in the image of God and therefore I have a god vacuum in me. So when I see a beautiful sunset and it moves my heart, that's me filling a little bit of my hole with the designer God. When I hold a baby, or I am filled with a sense of pride and joy through my children, that's me filling the gap created by the father God. When I ache at the sight of a starving child or even a stray puppy that's the sign he's a loving God. And the second part of the good news is that God is an all-knowing God that knew ahead of time what good 'ole Adam and Eve would do in the garden. And so he lovingly, compassionately, sent his son Jesus to fill the void that is in all of us. Now a ton of religions and individuals, including me, have spent a lot of precious time, money, and sanity trying to shut out the voices that are really just the vacuum crying out to be filled. I’m actually too embarrassed to fill in the blanks. “I spend most of my time____________, I spend more than enough money on_____________, or, I spend a lot of time thinking about____________." Jesus is the square peg that fits in the round hole. Nothing more nothing less. The Jesus of the Bible is an historic character that I don't believe any of the above mentioned religions would deny actually walked the face of the earth. It's what I "do" with him that matters. I have to believe one of two things about him. Either he was who he said he was. Or he was the worlds best actor, imitator, liar, and master of disguise that ever lived.
Sunday night was my leap of faith.
That’s all.
2/4/05
2/2/05
That Damn Groundhog Better Get It Right
What do the Iraqi people and Meghan W. have in common? Well, not a whole heck of a lot, but I thought they both deserved to be mentioned and congratulated. Meghan on student of the month and all around the best thing that ever happened to Melissa in her school career. And good for you Iraqi's....you came.... you voted.... you conquered! Let freedom ring.
1/28/05
Cable Guy
Apparently for only $5.00 more a month we can add HD TV to our system.
"What?" "You mean to tell me with all the cords, outlets, inputs, and color coded wires we already have, not a one of them can make the reception as crystal clear or by definition, high?"
Behind our TV looks like the dashboard of some kind of space machine that hasn't even been invented yet.
I am always amazed at the handiwork of God in creating the mind, heart, and soul in each of us. And He did it all on the 6th day and there hasn't been an upgrade or a different operating system, since. All through the holiday season, as I drove over the bridge, I lovingly admired the colored Christmas lights adorning each light pole. It conjured up in my mind a childhood fascination with the magical merry-go-round. But one day, I had to be into work early, and from the conference room window I stood mesmerized by the most glorious sunrise I had ever seen. It made every holiday display pale. I couldn't move, and as all of my human doubt faded away, I heard someone say, "Here, I painted this for you."
And there is more where that came from...the best sunsets in Michigan are in late January and February and they come in HD. And so I sit, this afternoon. between the hours of 1 and 5pm and wait to get my high......definition. Then I think I will immediately step out for some fresh air, aka---head to the beach for my "fix" of the good stuff.
"What?" "You mean to tell me with all the cords, outlets, inputs, and color coded wires we already have, not a one of them can make the reception as crystal clear or by definition, high?"
Behind our TV looks like the dashboard of some kind of space machine that hasn't even been invented yet.
I am always amazed at the handiwork of God in creating the mind, heart, and soul in each of us. And He did it all on the 6th day and there hasn't been an upgrade or a different operating system, since. All through the holiday season, as I drove over the bridge, I lovingly admired the colored Christmas lights adorning each light pole. It conjured up in my mind a childhood fascination with the magical merry-go-round. But one day, I had to be into work early, and from the conference room window I stood mesmerized by the most glorious sunrise I had ever seen. It made every holiday display pale. I couldn't move, and as all of my human doubt faded away, I heard someone say, "Here, I painted this for you."
And there is more where that came from...the best sunsets in Michigan are in late January and February and they come in HD. And so I sit, this afternoon. between the hours of 1 and 5pm and wait to get my high......definition. Then I think I will immediately step out for some fresh air, aka---head to the beach for my "fix" of the good stuff.
1/27/05
Shape Up
Someone forwarded these to me but since I don't "do" Windows or Fdw's I had to post them. I hope you enjoy ....then take a hike.
~Walking can add days to your life. This enables you, at 85 years of age to spend an additional 5 months in a nursing home at $5000. per day.
~ I started walking five miles a day when I was 39. When I'm 60 my family won't know where the hell I am.
~I joined a health club last year, spent about 400 bucks. Haven't lost a pound. Apparently you have to go there.
~ I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me.
~The advantage of exercising every day is that you die healthier.
~If you are going to try cross-country skiing, start with a small country.
~And last but not least: I don't exercise because it makes the ice jump right out of my glass.
OK, I completely blew off yesterday. Mr. "What's for Dinner" has installed a computer voice that comes out of the sky on the hour and announces, "It's eleven o'clock" ....It's two o'clock.....
It's six o'clock???
Thank goodness for my hair cut appointment at 6:15 that forced me out of the house. Since I feel somewhat out of shape and am looking for ways to get in to it, my smidgen of will power kicked in and I even stopped at the h.s. to walk. Thank-you to the kind stranger that jumped in my car and held a gun to my head until I finished 2 laps.
So today, I'm feeling confident and self assured. I cleaned out my closet. I went through every article of clothing and claimed my own from off of the mounded heap in the basement we lovingly call the laundry table. It was actually kind of fun, I played the 'ole garage sale game with my clothes. Give it away, throw it away, or put it away. Gotta love it. Right now I'm in the middle of trying to find a game to play with the bills.
So yeah, feeling strong, drinking raw eggs, pumping my fists, and hearing Rocky music in my head. And "It's only one o'clock!!!"
~Walking can add days to your life. This enables you, at 85 years of age to spend an additional 5 months in a nursing home at $5000. per day.
~ I started walking five miles a day when I was 39. When I'm 60 my family won't know where the hell I am.
~I joined a health club last year, spent about 400 bucks. Haven't lost a pound. Apparently you have to go there.
~ I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me.
~The advantage of exercising every day is that you die healthier.
~If you are going to try cross-country skiing, start with a small country.
~And last but not least: I don't exercise because it makes the ice jump right out of my glass.
OK, I completely blew off yesterday. Mr. "What's for Dinner" has installed a computer voice that comes out of the sky on the hour and announces, "It's eleven o'clock" ....It's two o'clock.....
It's six o'clock???
Thank goodness for my hair cut appointment at 6:15 that forced me out of the house. Since I feel somewhat out of shape and am looking for ways to get in to it, my smidgen of will power kicked in and I even stopped at the h.s. to walk. Thank-you to the kind stranger that jumped in my car and held a gun to my head until I finished 2 laps.
So today, I'm feeling confident and self assured. I cleaned out my closet. I went through every article of clothing and claimed my own from off of the mounded heap in the basement we lovingly call the laundry table. It was actually kind of fun, I played the 'ole garage sale game with my clothes. Give it away, throw it away, or put it away. Gotta love it. Right now I'm in the middle of trying to find a game to play with the bills.
So yeah, feeling strong, drinking raw eggs, pumping my fists, and hearing Rocky music in my head. And "It's only one o'clock!!!"
1/25/05
That's What I Thought
Time it was and what a time it was
It was a time of innocence, a time of confidences
Long ago it must be,
I have a photograph, preserve your memories
They're all that's left you
~Simon and Garfunkel~
It's two for tuesday! Kinda like waffle cone wednesday, and yet, not.
Journal - Julee - it's a journal. Day by day recording of things that happen.
Last week we went to a Fury hockey game with the Wiseman's. I guess it was somewhat of a solace for not being able to watch the Red Wings. It worked a little bit. Crazy, somewhat mullet-less, fans. Staged player fights and someone in the booth playing appropriate fist pumping music, like when the other team started the fight, splicing in "Girls just wanna have fu-un." But it was no "Joe" and there were no octopi, and I couldn't for the life of me catch any strains of "We will, we will, rock you." But the company was fun, even our impromptu ice capades on the sub terrain wind tunnel called the parking lot. The Station was crammed (you'd think with all those chain restaurants out by the mall people would leave our little R.Park and N.Shores establishments alone) but we pulled strings and got in at Chili's for a sub-standard burger.
Speaking of leaving our little villages alone...WE DON'T WANT NO FLIPPIN WAL-MART. I don't care if I have to buy my toilet paper at Pic-n-Pac for $9.00 a roll. Hell no, I won't go. Say it with me now. Hell no, I won't go. Everybody, c'mon. Journal - Julee - it's a journal. Day by day recording of things that happen. It just so happens, that we done went and got rselves the secund largust Wolmurt in these gosh durn United States of Amurica. Dad gummit.
The week-end was relatively quiet compared to the last few months. I don't think we left the place until Sunday morning. Happy hour on Friday was small and personable, Kate, Melissa, and me. Melissa drank pepsi. More good times.
Time. It's so quiet, controlling, and scary. It waits for no one. I think I wrote this in a former life... you can have a Hummer in your garage but you can't buy a day with 25 hours in it. Melissa says it only goes fast after you've gone through it and look back upon it. But I think she is rethinking her views, somewhat. I skipped walking tonight. Just thought I'd confess, I hear it's good for the soul.
OK, while I'm at it...I guess my "What's for Dinner" post ruffled a few feathers. I apologize, didn't mean to infer that the male species doesn't work hard, but I can see how that could have come across that way. I guess that's what it feels like to him when I ask, "How much was your paycheck this week?" I guess there are some things you just have to accept and God grant me the serenity.
But I tell you what, I'm not gonna sit still for this Wal-mart thing.
It was a time of innocence, a time of confidences
Long ago it must be,
I have a photograph, preserve your memories
They're all that's left you
~Simon and Garfunkel~
It's two for tuesday! Kinda like waffle cone wednesday, and yet, not.
Journal - Julee - it's a journal. Day by day recording of things that happen.
Last week we went to a Fury hockey game with the Wiseman's. I guess it was somewhat of a solace for not being able to watch the Red Wings. It worked a little bit. Crazy, somewhat mullet-less, fans. Staged player fights and someone in the booth playing appropriate fist pumping music, like when the other team started the fight, splicing in "Girls just wanna have fu-un." But it was no "Joe" and there were no octopi, and I couldn't for the life of me catch any strains of "We will, we will, rock you." But the company was fun, even our impromptu ice capades on the sub terrain wind tunnel called the parking lot. The Station was crammed (you'd think with all those chain restaurants out by the mall people would leave our little R.Park and N.Shores establishments alone) but we pulled strings and got in at Chili's for a sub-standard burger.
Speaking of leaving our little villages alone...WE DON'T WANT NO FLIPPIN WAL-MART. I don't care if I have to buy my toilet paper at Pic-n-Pac for $9.00 a roll. Hell no, I won't go. Say it with me now. Hell no, I won't go. Everybody, c'mon. Journal - Julee - it's a journal. Day by day recording of things that happen. It just so happens, that we done went and got rselves the secund largust Wolmurt in these gosh durn United States of Amurica. Dad gummit.
The week-end was relatively quiet compared to the last few months. I don't think we left the place until Sunday morning. Happy hour on Friday was small and personable, Kate, Melissa, and me. Melissa drank pepsi. More good times.
Time. It's so quiet, controlling, and scary. It waits for no one. I think I wrote this in a former life... you can have a Hummer in your garage but you can't buy a day with 25 hours in it. Melissa says it only goes fast after you've gone through it and look back upon it. But I think she is rethinking her views, somewhat. I skipped walking tonight. Just thought I'd confess, I hear it's good for the soul.
OK, while I'm at it...I guess my "What's for Dinner" post ruffled a few feathers. I apologize, didn't mean to infer that the male species doesn't work hard, but I can see how that could have come across that way. I guess that's what it feels like to him when I ask, "How much was your paycheck this week?" I guess there are some things you just have to accept and God grant me the serenity.
But I tell you what, I'm not gonna sit still for this Wal-mart thing.
1/22/05
It's Your Turn
Sometimes, when certain people say, "what's for dinner?" I want to curl up in the fetal position and tear my face off.
Who, when, where and why were the household chores divvied up so that it is usually the male species asking the question and then he assumes that the female should come up with a reasonable answer?
Wonder how same sex couples cope with this dilemma? This is just another form of racism and bigotry and somehow, someway, somebody has got to put a stop to this madness. So yeah, as you can tell I'm not really a fan of menu planning, cooking, grocery shopping, and doing dishes.
Oh, don't get me wrong....I have menus, yeah, let's see there's chicken broccoli casserole night, hot pockets night, chicken broccoli casserole leftover night, but even if you add in pizza hut night and cereal night that still leaves 2 nights unaccounted for.
If we learned everything we know in Kindergarten, then the solution to this problem would be to take turns. So that is what we will do...after all you wouldn't want to be responsible for me tearing my own face off now, would ya?
Who, when, where and why were the household chores divvied up so that it is usually the male species asking the question and then he assumes that the female should come up with a reasonable answer?
Wonder how same sex couples cope with this dilemma? This is just another form of racism and bigotry and somehow, someway, somebody has got to put a stop to this madness. So yeah, as you can tell I'm not really a fan of menu planning, cooking, grocery shopping, and doing dishes.
Oh, don't get me wrong....I have menus, yeah, let's see there's chicken broccoli casserole night, hot pockets night, chicken broccoli casserole leftover night, but even if you add in pizza hut night and cereal night that still leaves 2 nights unaccounted for.
If we learned everything we know in Kindergarten, then the solution to this problem would be to take turns. So that is what we will do...after all you wouldn't want to be responsible for me tearing my own face off now, would ya?
1/16/05
Hold 'Em
On a quiet, snowy, Sunday ride I heard four small words that began to finalize in my heart and soul, that indeed, my apron strings are hanging by a thread. "I'm going to go," she said softly but with much conviction.
We were in the bug and the sound track to Garden State was playing in the background. The song was by Colin Hay entitled, I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You. I had to turn the music down and ask her what she said, although I had heard loud and clear. And so she said it again, "I'm going to go to California."
When she was little she used to say to me with her tiny arms wrapped around my legs, "Hold you?", Hold you?" I guess she substituted "you" for "me" because I always said to her, "want me to hold you?"
And now she was asking me to let her go.
The tears instantly welled up and waited patiently to hear the rest of her reasoning. Which actually kinda caught me off guard.
"Don't you want me to go?" Yes...hell no! I wanted to scream. What I really wanted was to turn the clock back and enjoy the fricken heck out of each day I've been privileged to have her call me mom.
"Yes, sweetie, of course I want you to go. It will be the experience of a lifetime for you," I heard myself saying. But it was muffled and weak.
Why didn't somebody tell me how hard this was going to be? I want to be able to reach out and touch, hug, and squeeze her hand at my choosing. Cell phones and e-mail cannot speak to my heart like the sensation of touch. People can live without all the other senses---but babies would actually shrivel up and die with out someone holding them.
She was rambling on then about finding a black church with some kick ass choir, meeting new people, and what she was thinking of singing for the collage fundraiser. She jumped from subject to subject...something about remaining just friends and how her and Meghan have all but one class together to finish out their last semester. I didn't hear it all. I was too busy trying to turn off the tsunami and shut down the damn flood gates.
I know for certain I will never forget that short ride to church on such a cold January morning.
It's time to start letting go--It's her time.
But I will always "hold you" even if it's just in my heart.
We were in the bug and the sound track to Garden State was playing in the background. The song was by Colin Hay entitled, I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You. I had to turn the music down and ask her what she said, although I had heard loud and clear. And so she said it again, "I'm going to go to California."
When she was little she used to say to me with her tiny arms wrapped around my legs, "Hold you?", Hold you?" I guess she substituted "you" for "me" because I always said to her, "want me to hold you?"
And now she was asking me to let her go.
The tears instantly welled up and waited patiently to hear the rest of her reasoning. Which actually kinda caught me off guard.
"Don't you want me to go?" Yes...hell no! I wanted to scream. What I really wanted was to turn the clock back and enjoy the fricken heck out of each day I've been privileged to have her call me mom.
"Yes, sweetie, of course I want you to go. It will be the experience of a lifetime for you," I heard myself saying. But it was muffled and weak.
Why didn't somebody tell me how hard this was going to be? I want to be able to reach out and touch, hug, and squeeze her hand at my choosing. Cell phones and e-mail cannot speak to my heart like the sensation of touch. People can live without all the other senses---but babies would actually shrivel up and die with out someone holding them.
She was rambling on then about finding a black church with some kick ass choir, meeting new people, and what she was thinking of singing for the collage fundraiser. She jumped from subject to subject...something about remaining just friends and how her and Meghan have all but one class together to finish out their last semester. I didn't hear it all. I was too busy trying to turn off the tsunami and shut down the damn flood gates.
I know for certain I will never forget that short ride to church on such a cold January morning.
It's time to start letting go--It's her time.
But I will always "hold you" even if it's just in my heart.
1/13/05
Working
Interior design jobs on the side! Yeah! Finally back to some creative and inspirational thinking.
I always forget if that is left or right brain. But whatever it is, it sure feels good. Super busy at regular job.
Trying to work as much as I can for Brazil points, so that means two hours at the scrip table tonight. Soon it will mean "Working".
Ordered some old Pop, Tree, and Allegro DVD's for my own library, which are finally ready to be picked up.
After scrip I will walk the insanely boring H.S. halls for my drug of choice these days. Then home to catch up on Lost, West Wing, Guys & Dolls, West Side Story, and Grease.
Probably another scrapbooking marathon this week-end and I should cook the stupid UPS turkey before it gets freezer burn. Maybe I should pace myself.
I WANT an iBook with iMovie, iDVD, iPhoto, iLife, iWorks, and a new digital camera. C'mon, a girl can dream can't she?
I always forget if that is left or right brain. But whatever it is, it sure feels good. Super busy at regular job.
Trying to work as much as I can for Brazil points, so that means two hours at the scrip table tonight. Soon it will mean "Working".
Ordered some old Pop, Tree, and Allegro DVD's for my own library, which are finally ready to be picked up.
After scrip I will walk the insanely boring H.S. halls for my drug of choice these days. Then home to catch up on Lost, West Wing, Guys & Dolls, West Side Story, and Grease.
Probably another scrapbooking marathon this week-end and I should cook the stupid UPS turkey before it gets freezer burn. Maybe I should pace myself.
I WANT an iBook with iMovie, iDVD, iPhoto, iLife, iWorks, and a new digital camera. C'mon, a girl can dream can't she?
1/7/05
Technology
The animals broke their chains to move to higher ground. Guess it's always good to go with your gut. ~ Julee
Whoa! We can put a man on the moon AND talk to each other in little boxes that pop up on your computer screen! Apparently so. I guess you have to want it bad enough, though, cuz I have a CB handle and everything and I'm getting no pop ups. That is, until Melissa showed me how to add all my friends to a buddy list. Trouble is, I have no buddies to add. So if you've been to cyber school and back, e-mail me with YOUR CB handle and I'll add you. I promise not to stalk you.
Whoa! We can put a man on the moon AND talk to each other in little boxes that pop up on your computer screen! Apparently so. I guess you have to want it bad enough, though, cuz I have a CB handle and everything and I'm getting no pop ups. That is, until Melissa showed me how to add all my friends to a buddy list. Trouble is, I have no buddies to add. So if you've been to cyber school and back, e-mail me with YOUR CB handle and I'll add you. I promise not to stalk you.
1/4/05
That's What Friends Are For
I love my kids and their friends. I swear, if it weren't for them life would be pretty dang boring.
If I had a nickel for everytime the dog barked over the holidays, to greet friends, I'd be rich. Oh, and richer still if someone paid up everytime Mark threatened to drop kick the dog.
But the rich ones are my kids (and me) for all the gifts of love, loyalty, and laughter that friends have brought into their lives! I want them all to know, and I hope somehow my kids have demonstrated to them how empty their lives would be if each and everyone of these guys weren't around.... In alphabetical order, of course. Amy, Annie, Ashleigh, Ashley, Brennan, Christie, David, Jake, Leah, Mary, Meg, Mooch, Nick, and Tom. I feel privileged to call you all friends of the family. And I pray that all of you find true peace and happiness as you travel down life's path and in and out of our door!
And finally, more than two years after they started hanging out and almost a year since the show ended, Ross and Rachel are finally together.
If I had a nickel for everytime the dog barked over the holidays, to greet friends, I'd be rich. Oh, and richer still if someone paid up everytime Mark threatened to drop kick the dog.
But the rich ones are my kids (and me) for all the gifts of love, loyalty, and laughter that friends have brought into their lives! I want them all to know, and I hope somehow my kids have demonstrated to them how empty their lives would be if each and everyone of these guys weren't around.... In alphabetical order, of course. Amy, Annie, Ashleigh, Ashley, Brennan, Christie, David, Jake, Leah, Mary, Meg, Mooch, Nick, and Tom. I feel privileged to call you all friends of the family. And I pray that all of you find true peace and happiness as you travel down life's path and in and out of our door!
And finally, more than two years after they started hanging out and almost a year since the show ended, Ross and Rachel are finally together.
1/1/05
How Do You Measure A Year?
Eeeeeek!
I'm feeling the first ever pangs of writer's block. I had a post all ready to go on New Year's Eve so I could post right at midnight, but as I reread it, it seemed trite and juvenile. What movie, book title, song would best describe my 2004?...
Five people I would like to meet in Heaven and scads of names I've grown weary of in the past year. RWT (That's the cyber equivalent of me ripping paper out of my notebook, wadding it up and throwing it away.)
I also started a Julee version of what's hot and what's not. One of my favorites on that list was...What's hot = LiVeStRoNg bracelet/ What's not = Bling. RWT.
I even had silly predictions for 2005, one of which was...."that at least 4 out of my 5, 2004 resolutions would show up on my 2005 list." Sure enough. RWT.
So I tore that one up, and thought I would write the stereotypical Christmas letter filled with immodest and self-centered facts and happenings from my year. But truth be told my year has seemed to afford me such a roller-coaster of emotions, beliefs, struggles, victories, faith, and lack thereof that I couldn't bring myself to construe one. RTW.
Then I thought, I'll update my web page entitled Beniferissa, but I realized that if I said everything I wanted to say about them....they will, sooner rather than later, give me a hold-my-hallmark-tongue-gag-order. RTW.
And then, since it's been almost a year I thought I'd journal about my job and co-workers. But I had to RTW that one too, since the song that best described my year was....Alan Jackson's, "It's 5-o'clock Somewhere."
So for now, I'll sum up it up this way....2004= been there, done that! LIVE from Julee's journal, it's 2005! Please feel free to e-mail me if you would like to unsubscribe. Or just quit reading, your choice.
I'm feeling the first ever pangs of writer's block. I had a post all ready to go on New Year's Eve so I could post right at midnight, but as I reread it, it seemed trite and juvenile. What movie, book title, song would best describe my 2004?...
Five people I would like to meet in Heaven and scads of names I've grown weary of in the past year. RWT (That's the cyber equivalent of me ripping paper out of my notebook, wadding it up and throwing it away.)
I also started a Julee version of what's hot and what's not. One of my favorites on that list was...What's hot = LiVeStRoNg bracelet/ What's not = Bling. RWT.
I even had silly predictions for 2005, one of which was...."that at least 4 out of my 5, 2004 resolutions would show up on my 2005 list." Sure enough. RWT.
So I tore that one up, and thought I would write the stereotypical Christmas letter filled with immodest and self-centered facts and happenings from my year. But truth be told my year has seemed to afford me such a roller-coaster of emotions, beliefs, struggles, victories, faith, and lack thereof that I couldn't bring myself to construe one. RTW.
Then I thought, I'll update my web page entitled Beniferissa, but I realized that if I said everything I wanted to say about them....they will, sooner rather than later, give me a hold-my-hallmark-tongue-gag-order. RTW.
And then, since it's been almost a year I thought I'd journal about my job and co-workers. But I had to RTW that one too, since the song that best described my year was....Alan Jackson's, "It's 5-o'clock Somewhere."
So for now, I'll sum up it up this way....2004= been there, done that! LIVE from Julee's journal, it's 2005! Please feel free to e-mail me if you would like to unsubscribe. Or just quit reading, your choice.
12/30/04
Can't Complain
Apparently Wednesday morning at around 3:30am, while waiting for Jen to arrive home from Chicago, an 18-wheeler drove over my _ _ _. And although I have felt like a half dead deer with it's headlights on for about 48 hours I simply cannot complain. My only activity has been sitting on the couch watching TV and therefore I am completely saddened and now heartsick as well as stomach sick from watching hour after hour of the horrendous accounts of the Asian tsunami's. (Said in my best Lucy to Ricky voice.....) "Somebody's got some splainin' to do."
See ya next year.
See ya next year.
12/25/04
The Glory Of The Lord
Oh holy night
The stars are brightly shining
It is the night of our dear Savior’s birth
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till he appear'd and the soul felt its worth
The thrill of hope the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn
Fall on your knees
Oh hear the angel voices
Oh night divine
Oh, night when Christ was born
Merry Christmas and I don't mean happy holidays. This ancient story is not just a feel good reason to give gifts, reminisce about a year gone by and contemplate resolutions for the year to come. It is the whole reason we have a calendar in the first place and technically it is quite a bit older than the 2004 years we have celebrated. The book of Isaiah in the Old Testament was written somewhere between 700-650 B.C. Hundreds of years before the actual birth took place and the prophet got it right to the minute details, including the no vacancy sign and the three kings whom actually worshipped and brought gifts to a toddler because of travel time. My hope and prayer for myself and all of you is that we find the peace and contentment that only this baby who was born to die can bring. It's not a religion, it's a relationship and it goes both ways. Take the risk, make the leap of faith, BELIEVE. Merry Christmas, and by all means may the rest of your 2005 holidays be happy.
For a child will be born to us, a son will be given to us;
And the government will rest on his shoulders;
And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.
Isaiah 9:6
The stars are brightly shining
It is the night of our dear Savior’s birth
Long lay the world in sin and error pining
Till he appear'd and the soul felt its worth
The thrill of hope the weary world rejoices
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn
Fall on your knees
Oh hear the angel voices
Oh night divine
Oh, night when Christ was born
Merry Christmas and I don't mean happy holidays. This ancient story is not just a feel good reason to give gifts, reminisce about a year gone by and contemplate resolutions for the year to come. It is the whole reason we have a calendar in the first place and technically it is quite a bit older than the 2004 years we have celebrated. The book of Isaiah in the Old Testament was written somewhere between 700-650 B.C. Hundreds of years before the actual birth took place and the prophet got it right to the minute details, including the no vacancy sign and the three kings whom actually worshipped and brought gifts to a toddler because of travel time. My hope and prayer for myself and all of you is that we find the peace and contentment that only this baby who was born to die can bring. It's not a religion, it's a relationship and it goes both ways. Take the risk, make the leap of faith, BELIEVE. Merry Christmas, and by all means may the rest of your 2005 holidays be happy.
For a child will be born to us, a son will be given to us;
And the government will rest on his shoulders;
And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace.
Isaiah 9:6
12/20/04
The Boys Are Back
Melissa finally had a date on December 16. After 2 and 1/2 years the shackles were removed and let me just say to all my kids...keep smiling, through good times and bad times, I'll be on your side forevermore. So yeah, that's over and hopefully I will not have to listen to how she would have implemented her own orthodontic journey as compared to the dentist. Quick....leave home now, Melissa, while you're still a teenager and know everything. According to my week so far, there are two ways I don't appreciate getting yanked from my restful dreamworld. A.) Between gales of childish/ college age laughter wafting in from the living room oh....let's say....in intervals of... just fall asleep, laughter, fall back asleep....I finally awaken early Sunday morning to leisurely enjoy my coffee and the living room is filled with those same kids that couldn’t stop laughing in the wee hours. And now they’re snoring.
And secondly, on my day-off Monday morning, Mark quietly sneaks out of the bedroom to see if Melissa's car needs brushing off, etc. Once again, in a just-fell-back-asleep interval, he barges back into bedroom with the dreaded, "We have a major water gushing sound in the basement that will probably involve both of us."
FOR SALE: Lovely six bedroom (if you count the living room and porch) one bathroom (if you don't count behind the garage...and you can't really anymore since the neighbors' kitchen window overlooks the former 2nd bathroom) quaint piece of _ _ _ _. Price reduced. Memories not included. If it wasn't for the fact that the plumber can get here between 10 and noon, I would....oh wait....I think I hear his hooves on the rooftop now.
And secondly, on my day-off Monday morning, Mark quietly sneaks out of the bedroom to see if Melissa's car needs brushing off, etc. Once again, in a just-fell-back-asleep interval, he barges back into bedroom with the dreaded, "We have a major water gushing sound in the basement that will probably involve both of us."
FOR SALE: Lovely six bedroom (if you count the living room and porch) one bathroom (if you don't count behind the garage...and you can't really anymore since the neighbors' kitchen window overlooks the former 2nd bathroom) quaint piece of _ _ _ _. Price reduced. Memories not included. If it wasn't for the fact that the plumber can get here between 10 and noon, I would....oh wait....I think I hear his hooves on the rooftop now.
12/14/04
A Series Of Unfortunate Events
Santa, baby, hurry down the chimney tonight.
1. Santa Claus. I could never bring myself to let Santa have his way with the impressionable minds of my young children. Their dad worked to hard and long during Christmas to give any credit to an old fat guy in fake fur. When they would come home with their stories from over indulging teachers and gullible friends....and ask the age old question, Mama, is there such a thing as Santa Claus? "Hell, yeah! And he just happens to be your dad!!!" I'd simply say. "And call me crazy, but his sleigh is a crappy shade of brown. And contrary to popular belief, most all of his stops are conducted (hopefully) before midnight on Christmas Eve, not after. Oh, and one more thing....it's not your birthday, anyway!"
2. Chia Pets. Where do they go the rest of the year? Receiving one could instantly disenchant any santa-believers and only add fodder to the scrooges' arsenal. And what possible response could you conjure up, so as to not hurt the feelings of the gift giver. "It's what I've always wanted."(for my next garage sale) "How'd you know?" (I didn't already have one). "Thank-you" (for giving me faith in the advertising industry again).
3. Christmas decorations. I didn't want to ever speak of this again, but if you're going to have rules you must enforce them. So for those of you who misplaced the memo, here they are again.
OK, I guess were going to have to talk about Christmas decorations. I didn't want to, not this year anyway. I didn't want to come across petty and trite. There are so many more important and urgent things to write about. But somebody has to point these things out and I guess if the press isn't going to do it then I feel it my duty as a citizen, to advise, declare, announce and proclaim from my humble web podium: America, learn how to decorate for Christmas!!!
Disclaimer: I don't decorate outside! My philosophy is that of Thumper's: if you can't do something right, don't do anything at all.
Most common mistakes:
1. Blowup Santas, dogs, snowmen, toy soldiers or anything. C'mon this is just plain cheating...what's next? A blowup nativity scene.
2. Mixing big and small lights together on the same tree. It simply looks tacky.
3. Net lights...these are just too flat out symmetrical. If you have to use nets, make sure they go all the way underneath the bush and go ahead and pull a few of the bulbs out so it doesn't look like you spent six minutes on a warm Sat in November throwing a net over your bush.
4. Not enough lights...let's face it folks, if you have an evergreen as tall as your house...one strand is NOT going to cut it.
5. Mickey and Minnie should not be portrayed as Mary and Joseph. Enough said.
6. DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT have all the lights on your tree go on and off at the same time. If you can't find strands that have a twinkle effect just leave 'em on. And by twinkle I mean: one or two lights going on and off very slowly and placed strategically through out the tree. Let me know if you ever come across strands like this cuz I want to buy stock in the company.
7. The only color light that looks good by itself is white.
8. If your plastic soldiers, choir members, candy canes or wise men are faded, its time to rethink the whole yard thing. This goes for characters that can't or won't stay standing for the whole season. It doesn't look good when one of the three wise men is eating a grass sandwich or a choir member is face down in a snow bank. It looks like their gift wasn't good enough or they're really bumming about the auditions.
9. Indoors the RULE is at least 100 lights for every foot of tree. Once again, one strand is not going to cut it, unless, of course, your tree is only 12 inches tall. This should somehow be incorporated into the bylaws of the constitution.
10. Absolutely, unequivocally, and under no conditions whatsoever (indeed, this is a law) are you ever, hereto and forever more, to purchase, decorate with, or view chasing lights. Look away.
1. Santa Claus. I could never bring myself to let Santa have his way with the impressionable minds of my young children. Their dad worked to hard and long during Christmas to give any credit to an old fat guy in fake fur. When they would come home with their stories from over indulging teachers and gullible friends....and ask the age old question, Mama, is there such a thing as Santa Claus? "Hell, yeah! And he just happens to be your dad!!!" I'd simply say. "And call me crazy, but his sleigh is a crappy shade of brown. And contrary to popular belief, most all of his stops are conducted (hopefully) before midnight on Christmas Eve, not after. Oh, and one more thing....it's not your birthday, anyway!"
2. Chia Pets. Where do they go the rest of the year? Receiving one could instantly disenchant any santa-believers and only add fodder to the scrooges' arsenal. And what possible response could you conjure up, so as to not hurt the feelings of the gift giver. "It's what I've always wanted."(for my next garage sale) "How'd you know?" (I didn't already have one). "Thank-you" (for giving me faith in the advertising industry again).
3. Christmas decorations. I didn't want to ever speak of this again, but if you're going to have rules you must enforce them. So for those of you who misplaced the memo, here they are again.
OK, I guess were going to have to talk about Christmas decorations. I didn't want to, not this year anyway. I didn't want to come across petty and trite. There are so many more important and urgent things to write about. But somebody has to point these things out and I guess if the press isn't going to do it then I feel it my duty as a citizen, to advise, declare, announce and proclaim from my humble web podium: America, learn how to decorate for Christmas!!!
Disclaimer: I don't decorate outside! My philosophy is that of Thumper's: if you can't do something right, don't do anything at all.
Most common mistakes:
1. Blowup Santas, dogs, snowmen, toy soldiers or anything. C'mon this is just plain cheating...what's next? A blowup nativity scene.
2. Mixing big and small lights together on the same tree. It simply looks tacky.
3. Net lights...these are just too flat out symmetrical. If you have to use nets, make sure they go all the way underneath the bush and go ahead and pull a few of the bulbs out so it doesn't look like you spent six minutes on a warm Sat in November throwing a net over your bush.
4. Not enough lights...let's face it folks, if you have an evergreen as tall as your house...one strand is NOT going to cut it.
5. Mickey and Minnie should not be portrayed as Mary and Joseph. Enough said.
6. DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT have all the lights on your tree go on and off at the same time. If you can't find strands that have a twinkle effect just leave 'em on. And by twinkle I mean: one or two lights going on and off very slowly and placed strategically through out the tree. Let me know if you ever come across strands like this cuz I want to buy stock in the company.
7. The only color light that looks good by itself is white.
8. If your plastic soldiers, choir members, candy canes or wise men are faded, its time to rethink the whole yard thing. This goes for characters that can't or won't stay standing for the whole season. It doesn't look good when one of the three wise men is eating a grass sandwich or a choir member is face down in a snow bank. It looks like their gift wasn't good enough or they're really bumming about the auditions.
9. Indoors the RULE is at least 100 lights for every foot of tree. Once again, one strand is not going to cut it, unless, of course, your tree is only 12 inches tall. This should somehow be incorporated into the bylaws of the constitution.
10. Absolutely, unequivocally, and under no conditions whatsoever (indeed, this is a law) are you ever, hereto and forever more, to purchase, decorate with, or view chasing lights. Look away.
12/11/04
Downtown
Look out.
Mark and I joined the culture club last night. I could only imagine, as we ambled past the horse drawn carriage and under the retro marquis, that Muskegon could come into it's own at any given moment.
The Historical Frauenthal Theatre is reminiscent of times gone by and I believe it rivals the few Chicago venues that I have frequented. I wish a knew of a land developer that would just give me free reign with the bordering properties. Put me in, I can throw strikes!
The West Shore Symphony was a good time especially since Melissa was singing with them.
The Friday night girls happy hour now has a life of it's own. More good times. I hope the other husbands don't bag anything between now and Mark's Christmas rush. I agree with Kate, it's cheaper than therapy.
Still, all in all, the highlights of my week include my own. A quick dinner with Melissa at Brann's. We couldn't resist the trivial pursuit cards at the table. Stick to playing cards, sweetie. A phone conversation in which I heard happy in Jennifer's voice. Ben moves into a "real" house in Evart, and Happy Birthday to Annie. Come over any time!
Other national and international happenings that caught my attention this week:
Mia Hamm said good bye to soccer, and hopefully the phrase, "you play like a girl."
And just because I like to say it, and because Jesus must have celebrated all the Jewish traditions, Happy Hanukkah.
Mark and I joined the culture club last night. I could only imagine, as we ambled past the horse drawn carriage and under the retro marquis, that Muskegon could come into it's own at any given moment.
The Historical Frauenthal Theatre is reminiscent of times gone by and I believe it rivals the few Chicago venues that I have frequented. I wish a knew of a land developer that would just give me free reign with the bordering properties. Put me in, I can throw strikes!
The West Shore Symphony was a good time especially since Melissa was singing with them.
The Friday night girls happy hour now has a life of it's own. More good times. I hope the other husbands don't bag anything between now and Mark's Christmas rush. I agree with Kate, it's cheaper than therapy.
Still, all in all, the highlights of my week include my own. A quick dinner with Melissa at Brann's. We couldn't resist the trivial pursuit cards at the table. Stick to playing cards, sweetie. A phone conversation in which I heard happy in Jennifer's voice. Ben moves into a "real" house in Evart, and Happy Birthday to Annie. Come over any time!
Other national and international happenings that caught my attention this week:
Mia Hamm said good bye to soccer, and hopefully the phrase, "you play like a girl."
And just because I like to say it, and because Jesus must have celebrated all the Jewish traditions, Happy Hanukkah.
12/9/04
I'll Be Home For Christmas
"Do not go where the path my lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail" ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
Looking into taking my have-to-do-this-before-I-die train trip to deliver Melissa to So. California next fall. Therefore, by default, Mark will get to see the Grand Canyon before he dies! We will travel west through 7-8 states and 2-3 National Parks, get Melissa settled, see a few sights with her, say goodbye, head up the coast to leisurely travel back along the Canadian border. Contemplating constantly, I'm sure, how and if we will deal with the empty nest once we get home.
Home.
Another four letter word that packs a punch, if you stop and think about it. Take me home. Home is where the heart is. Keep the home fires burning. Homesick. Home sweet home. Home away from home. Down home. Make yourself at home. Home stretch. Hurry home. Homemade. Straight home. Homeward bound.
Webster describes it this way:
1. Residence, the physical structure where one lives. 2. The native habitat of a plant or animal. 3. An environment offering security and happiness. 4. The place where something is discovered, founded, developed, or promoted.
I choose to describe it on my own terms.
Home is:
* Most farmhouses, but one in particular
* Current
* Wherever I feel comfortable in flipping my shoes off.
* 820 N. LaSalle, 1130 & 1212 S. Michigan Ave., 537 S. Dearborn #C, Chicago street addresses forever in my mind's memory bank
* Just driving onto the grounds of any camp called Springhill
* Sitting down for a hot cup of coffee and a warm chat.
* A garden level flat in Paris France and 10 cents per minute overseas calling plan
* 40 hours on an Amtrak Pullman car traveling out west
* A little glimpse of heaven here on earth. (Has to be.)
I have always felt somewhat of a wanderlust, nomadic, so to speak. A beckoning to move on, change, take the road less traveled. Maybe the fact that I've only lived in 2 houses for the majority of my life explains my ambivalent feelings of home that overwhelm and ground me. I'm always anxious to get home to my familiar, secure, stable, and comfortable place. The words to this Michael W. Smith song seem to capture my mood. Thankfully I haven't experienced near what one would call a "desperate" life, my human brain has yet to come to terms with anything but more of the same when I contemplate a heavenly home.
Wandering the road of desperate life
Aimlessly beneath the barren sky
Leave it to me
I'll lead you home
So afraid the you will not be found
It won't be long before the sun goes down
Just leave it to me
I'll lead you home
A troubled mind and doubter's heart
You wonder how you ever got this far
Vultures of darkness ate the crumbs you left
And you've no way to retrace your steps
Let it go and turn it over to
The one who chose to give his life for you
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
You're lost and alone
Leave it to me
I'll lead you home.
What I really want is to take the long way home.
Looking into taking my have-to-do-this-before-I-die train trip to deliver Melissa to So. California next fall. Therefore, by default, Mark will get to see the Grand Canyon before he dies! We will travel west through 7-8 states and 2-3 National Parks, get Melissa settled, see a few sights with her, say goodbye, head up the coast to leisurely travel back along the Canadian border. Contemplating constantly, I'm sure, how and if we will deal with the empty nest once we get home.
Home.
Another four letter word that packs a punch, if you stop and think about it. Take me home. Home is where the heart is. Keep the home fires burning. Homesick. Home sweet home. Home away from home. Down home. Make yourself at home. Home stretch. Hurry home. Homemade. Straight home. Homeward bound.
Webster describes it this way:
1. Residence, the physical structure where one lives. 2. The native habitat of a plant or animal. 3. An environment offering security and happiness. 4. The place where something is discovered, founded, developed, or promoted.
I choose to describe it on my own terms.
Home is:
* Most farmhouses, but one in particular
* Current
* Wherever I feel comfortable in flipping my shoes off.
* 820 N. LaSalle, 1130 & 1212 S. Michigan Ave., 537 S. Dearborn #C, Chicago street addresses forever in my mind's memory bank
* Just driving onto the grounds of any camp called Springhill
* Sitting down for a hot cup of coffee and a warm chat.
* A garden level flat in Paris France and 10 cents per minute overseas calling plan
* 40 hours on an Amtrak Pullman car traveling out west
* A little glimpse of heaven here on earth. (Has to be.)
I have always felt somewhat of a wanderlust, nomadic, so to speak. A beckoning to move on, change, take the road less traveled. Maybe the fact that I've only lived in 2 houses for the majority of my life explains my ambivalent feelings of home that overwhelm and ground me. I'm always anxious to get home to my familiar, secure, stable, and comfortable place. The words to this Michael W. Smith song seem to capture my mood. Thankfully I haven't experienced near what one would call a "desperate" life, my human brain has yet to come to terms with anything but more of the same when I contemplate a heavenly home.
Wandering the road of desperate life
Aimlessly beneath the barren sky
Leave it to me
I'll lead you home
So afraid the you will not be found
It won't be long before the sun goes down
Just leave it to me
I'll lead you home
A troubled mind and doubter's heart
You wonder how you ever got this far
Vultures of darkness ate the crumbs you left
And you've no way to retrace your steps
Let it go and turn it over to
The one who chose to give his life for you
Hear me calling
Hear me calling
You're lost and alone
Leave it to me
I'll lead you home.
What I really want is to take the long way home.
12/4/04
It's Over
At the risk of losing my younger readers....this entry will be the last of the sappiness for a awhile.
The CD/DVD order form is filled out.
The tears have been dried.
The film has been dropped at 1-hour photo.
A small piece of tinsel and the tickets lay waiting to be entered into a future scrapbook.
The final rose is adorning the dining room table.
The children are nestled all snug in their wee little beds (still).
And the singing Christmas tree, as we know it, has come to an end for this family.
Let the memories live on!
....there IS a love that never dies.
11/29/04
Giving Thanks
To be in your children's memories tomorrow you have to be in their lives today. ~ Beverly Sills
I had quite the surreal Thanksgiving weekend. I was in and out of body quite a few times and even hovered above on occasion. I had flashback after flashback of times gone by and then before I could reel my mind back in I would be down the road in the future trying to scheme ways of working my legacy/personality into future families.
I want life to slow down. I remember when the kids were small I would forever be wishing away their lives. I anticipated every aspect of the timetable we call childhood. I think I saw a little smile. I wish that tooth would pop through. Oh, I think they just said mama! I can't wait till they start school. And then, when it all started to snowball I wanted to put bricks on their heads.
Change is good, I keep telling myself. You can't grow without change. Because of my quiet revelry of past memories, and with piqued anticipation of the future I have come to the conclusion that you can't slow life down.
This doesn't mean I have to live life in the fast lane, and so once again, I determine to: travel light (dump the baggage), enjoy the ride, (the joy is the journey) concentrate on the road (don't be stupid), check the rearview mirror occasionally (always aware of places I've been) follow the map (read the instruction Book) and stop and ask directions (pray).
Then and only then will I be fulfilling my purpose in life. And what is that, you ask? I have decided on a title for the book I will write and it just so happens to be my purpose in life: "Live" (with a short i). Subtitle: Four-letter Words To Teach Your Children. Ohh...you didn't ask? Sorry.
I had quite the surreal Thanksgiving weekend. I was in and out of body quite a few times and even hovered above on occasion. I had flashback after flashback of times gone by and then before I could reel my mind back in I would be down the road in the future trying to scheme ways of working my legacy/personality into future families.
I want life to slow down. I remember when the kids were small I would forever be wishing away their lives. I anticipated every aspect of the timetable we call childhood. I think I saw a little smile. I wish that tooth would pop through. Oh, I think they just said mama! I can't wait till they start school. And then, when it all started to snowball I wanted to put bricks on their heads.
Change is good, I keep telling myself. You can't grow without change. Because of my quiet revelry of past memories, and with piqued anticipation of the future I have come to the conclusion that you can't slow life down.
This doesn't mean I have to live life in the fast lane, and so once again, I determine to: travel light (dump the baggage), enjoy the ride, (the joy is the journey) concentrate on the road (don't be stupid), check the rearview mirror occasionally (always aware of places I've been) follow the map (read the instruction Book) and stop and ask directions (pray).
Then and only then will I be fulfilling my purpose in life. And what is that, you ask? I have decided on a title for the book I will write and it just so happens to be my purpose in life: "Live" (with a short i). Subtitle: Four-letter Words To Teach Your Children. Ohh...you didn't ask? Sorry.
Giving Thanks
To be in your children's memories tomorrow you have to be in their lives today. ~ Beverly Sills
I had quite the surreal Thanksgiving weekend. I was in and out of body quite a few times and even hovered above on occasion.
I had flashback after flashback of times gone by and then before I could reel my mind back in I would be down the road in the future trying to scheme ways of working my legacy/personality into future families.
I want life to slow down.
I remember when the kids were small I would forever be wishing away their lives. I anticipated every aspect of the timetable we call childhood. I think I saw a little smile. I wish that tooth would pop through. Oh, I think they just said mama! I can't wait till they start school. And then, when it all started to snowball I wanted to put bricks on their heads.
Change is good, I keep telling myself. You can't grow without change. Because of my quiet revelry of past memories, and with piqued anticipation of the future I have come to the conclusion that you can't slow life down.
This doesn't mean I have to live life in the fast lane, and so once again, I determine to: travel light (dump the baggage), enjoy the ride, (the joy is the journey) concentrate on the road (don't be stupid), check the rearview mirror occasionally (always aware of places I've been) follow the map (read the instruction Book) and stop and ask directions (pray). Then and only then will I be fulfilling my purpose in life.
And what is that, you ask? I have decided on a title for the book I will write and it just so happens to be my purpose in life: "Live" (with a short i). Subtitle: Four-letter Words To Teach Your Children. Ohh...you didn't ask? Sorry.
I had quite the surreal Thanksgiving weekend. I was in and out of body quite a few times and even hovered above on occasion.
I had flashback after flashback of times gone by and then before I could reel my mind back in I would be down the road in the future trying to scheme ways of working my legacy/personality into future families.
I want life to slow down.
I remember when the kids were small I would forever be wishing away their lives. I anticipated every aspect of the timetable we call childhood. I think I saw a little smile. I wish that tooth would pop through. Oh, I think they just said mama! I can't wait till they start school. And then, when it all started to snowball I wanted to put bricks on their heads.
Change is good, I keep telling myself. You can't grow without change. Because of my quiet revelry of past memories, and with piqued anticipation of the future I have come to the conclusion that you can't slow life down.
This doesn't mean I have to live life in the fast lane, and so once again, I determine to: travel light (dump the baggage), enjoy the ride, (the joy is the journey) concentrate on the road (don't be stupid), check the rearview mirror occasionally (always aware of places I've been) follow the map (read the instruction Book) and stop and ask directions (pray). Then and only then will I be fulfilling my purpose in life.
And what is that, you ask? I have decided on a title for the book I will write and it just so happens to be my purpose in life: "Live" (with a short i). Subtitle: Four-letter Words To Teach Your Children. Ohh...you didn't ask? Sorry.
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