Z is for...

zzzzzzzzzzz

Yeah, that's me sleeping. I'm tired of trying to find a word that would trigger a whole entry that is halfway interesting. I thought about talking about the fact that I like to sleep, but that's pretty much covered in my N post. I thought about talking about Zurich, the first European city I've ever been to, but I was just in the airport, so it technically doesn't even count. I thought about zoology and my love of animals, but I realized that I've already talked about my dogs. I even was thinking about "zone" for awhile, and how I get in the zone with one interest or hobby and kind of forget all others, but it just didn't flow. When searching for z words, I even found another set of bones with 'process' in the name: zygomatic process (cheekbones). Nice.

So, even though I wanted my last post to end with a bang, it's not going to. These last few letters have really stretched the limits of my imagination. No wonder they are at the end of the alphabet. They're fun and all, but when coming up with words that start with them, I think they got left in the dust.

So, if you made it through to Z, thanks for listening....er...reading. Now, I'm on the hunt for my next bit of blog motivation...

Y is for...

Yard-apes

This one is dedicated to my lurking Uncle Na. He reads and never comments. Oh yeah, that's right. I know you're there, punk...

This is his and my uncle Darren's term for their nieces and nephews.

This word reminds me of my childhood and family get-togethers. My mom has five brothers, so I have lots of cousins on her side of the family and when we were young, we got together a lot. Most of us were spaced in age by only a year or two, so there was usually someone we could play with. The boys would go off and dig a giant hole. The girls would go off and play house or Barbies. Or some of us girls would chase the boys around and try to be included. And every get together would usually include a wrestling session on the living room floor with my two dorky uncles. We all would gang up on one or both of them and feebly try to bring them down. I have a little bit of pity for them now thinking about all the screaming brats climbing all over them. I wonder how many bruises they could count when they went back home.

One thing I particularly remember is how my Uncle Na would "turn his eyes inside out" so that you could see the red inside of his eyelid. He would run around like this scaring all of us. I was one of the younger cousins at the time and I tended to be more "delicate" then the other ones. It would really scare me when he did this, so he would take pity on me and throw me up on his shoulders so I could participate, but not actually look at him.

As we grew up, we developed new games to play. One summer, right before Na left to go back to CA, he brought us all outside and whipped out three Super-Soakers from the back of the pickup and started a water fight. I think he was trying to lighten the mood as him leaving always inevitably brought tears. And now, every other Christmas when he comes up to MT, the tradition is to sit down and play the Farming Game nonstop all throughout the night. We always have the same game pieces and we ALWAYS have Metallica on in the background set to repeat.

Now, both of my "younger" uncles have little girls of their own. I'm sad for my little cousins that they will miss out on those big Davis get-togethers with all the cousins. But, on the other hand, they are just as lucky as we were because they get the experience of having my dorky uncles as their own dorky dads.

X is for...

Come on!!! X??? Do we really have to do this one??

Really? Ok.

Xylophone.
They are pretty. And they make pretty sounds. Although, I've never played one. Except the plastic-y play ones you get when you're a kid.

So I guess that doesn't really fit. Moving on....

Xanthic.
I'm a little yellowish, I guess. In color and demeanor. I'm scared of the sun. That makes me "yella" in two way right there.

Xerox.
I remember xeroxing things in grade school and high school on those old blue xerox machines. The blue stuff would get all over your fingers and all over the pages. I got to use the xerox machines a lot in school. I was one of those brown-nosers that was always helping out the teachers before and after school. I was a modern day version of the little girl in ringlets that always clapped the erasers after school for Miss Beadle.

Xiphoid process
Coolest body part name. Ever. Naming a part of the body with a verb is wonderfully confusing. Anatomy wasn't NEARLY as difficult to remember already...
I had a fear in my CPR class in college that if I ever performed CPR on someone, I would break their xyphoid process. It's just a tiny little bone sticking out there ready to be snapped off! The instructor said that a few broken bones are normal for someone that has had CPR done to them. Ok, as if performing CPR isn't freaky enough, now you have to do it with lovely crunching bones accompaniment. Fantastic.

X-ray
The only thing I've had x-rayed are my teeth. I've never had a broken bone (besides a questionable incident with my little toe.) There's something informational about me! Besides teeth, I've never had surgeries or x-rays. Fascinating, eh?

Ok. End of lame attempt at an entry about me. X sux.

W is for...

Wishful

I wish that days were longer.

I wish workdays were shorter.
~
I wish I could get paid for taking naps.

I wish I didn't like to sleep so much.
~
I wish people weren't so mean.

I wish I could love people more...especially the mean ones.

I wish I wasn't so mean.
~
I wish I was about 30 lbs lighter (and that's not even greedy, as I could afford to lose 50.)

I wish vegetables and fried foods would swap nutritional facts.

I wish watching TV and running would swap calorie-burning-rates.
~
I wish I could finish things I start.

I wish my scrapbook would finish itself.
~
I wish I was a better house-keeper.

I wish my dogs didn't shed.
~
I wish I could get paid for doing something I love.

I wish I loved something enough to want to do it for a living.
~
I wish wisdom would come without suffering the experience.

I wish we all could understand each other a little better, rather then be a bunch of judges.

V is for...

Victorious

Ok, this post is kind of a cop out. I was trying to wax eloquent about being victorious through Jesus, and this hymn kept popping into my head. So, I'll just let the timeless lyrics do the talking.

I heard an old, old story,
How a Savior came from glory,
How He gave His life on Calvary
To save a wretch like me;
I heard about His groaning,
Of His precious blood's atoning,
Then I repented of my sins;
And won the victory.

O victory in Jesus,
My Savior, forever.
He sought me and bought me
With His redeeming blood;
He loved me ere I knew Him,
And all my love is due Him,
He plunged me to victory,
Beneath the cleansing flood.

I heard about His healing,
Of His cleansing power revealing.
How He made the lame to walk again
And caused the blind to see;
And then I cried, "Dear Jesus,
Come and heal my broken spirit,"
And somehow Jesus came and brought
To me the victory.

O victory in Jesus,
My Savior, forever.
He sought me and bought me
With His redeeming blood;
He loved me ere I knew Him,
And all my love is due Him,
He plunged me to victory,
Beneath the cleansing flood.

I heard about a mansion
He has built for me in glory.
And I heard about the streets of gold
Beyond the crystal sea;
About the angels singing,
And the old redemption story,
And some sweet day I'll sing up there
The song of victory.

O victory in Jesus,
My Savior, forever.
He sought me and bought me
With His redeeming blood;
He loved me ere I knew Him,
And all my love is due Him,
He plunged me to victory,
Beneath the cleansing flood.

(You're totally going to have this song stuck in your head all day now, huh? You're welcome.)

(If you don't know the song, go here to listen to the midi.)

U is for...

Uncoordinated

I've never been particularly coordinated. Actually, I'm quite clumsy. I'm always the one at the dinner table that tips over the glass of milk, or runs my sleeve through the gravy. The number of times I've tripped up the stairs at work or practically somersaulted my way down is too numerous and too embarrassing to admit. I frequently miss doorways by a few inches and slam my shoulder or my knee into the door frame. I've dropped my cell phone so many times that it's a miracle it can still turn on. And if there is a crack in the sidewalk that I am walking on...I guarantee you I will hit it with my toe and stumble.

I never played sports in school. I had a job at a pizza parlor all through school instead. I suppose I might've learned a little more coordination if I had. Or maybe it was God's way of protecting me from the inevitable humiliation. Watch me try to dribble a basketball, and you'll see what I'm talking about. (Although, I can manage to balance a large pizza and six drinks on a tray at once....for whatever that's worth.)

When asking Jerod to remember an uncoordinated story I could write about (since I've repressed them all to my subconscious), he remembered one night when I showed up at his apartment soaking wet and smelling a little like sewage. I had gone to dinner with some friends downtown and I was going to go to his apartment afterwards to see him before heading home for the night. Since I was parked at his place, I had to walk the five or so blocks from the restaurant to his apartment building. I can't remember if it had snowed or rained, but the sidewalks were pretty slick, and the street gutters were full of wonderful smelly runoff water. I was stepping off the curb to go into the street and with flaying arms, I fell flat on my butt in a nasty puddle several inches deep. Luckily, I was only a block away from my destination and it was dark and no one could see me shuffling bowl-legged and red-faced down the sidewalk. I called Jerod from my cell phone and tried to talk him into dropping down a towel from his balcony so that he wouldn't have to smell me and I could just get in my car and go home, but he made me come up so that he could laugh at me, and give me a pair of his sweat pants to warm up in.

So chivalrous of him, wasn't it?

T is for...

Temper

Sometimes, stereotypes can be completely off-base and proven wrong in a lot of cases. For example, my sister is a red-head, like I am. But, she doesn't have the red-headed temper. I've rarely seen her lose her cool. She's pretty steady across the mood gamut. And then there's me. I am the total stereotypical moody, temperamental red-head. Something can set me off at the drop of a hat. And I get screamy and destructive and teary. It ain't pretty. And I'm not proud of this particular trait in myself.

When I was a teenager, my temper was illustrated on just how hard I could slam a door. I remember my dad having to fix my bedroom door just so I was able to close it after one of my temper tantrums. I would get so angry that all I could do was stomp off and slam something really hard so it would make that satisfying *BANG* sound. And I have to shamefully admit, that when my teenage years left, the door slamming didn't totally leave with it.

I remember the first time I lost my temper in Jerod's presence. I didn't learn until later that he came from a pretty non-confrontational upbringing, so that explains why he looked like he was scared to death of me. It was our first real argument and I stood there and yelled at him and gave him my hateful eyes while he just stood there in shock. I learned a lot about Jerod that day. And he learned probably way TOO much about me that day as well.

Yeah. The yelling. Did I mention the yelling? This is the part I hate the most. My temper tantrums also usually involve me saying mean things that I instantly regret and have to apologize for soon after. But, I still say them. I still hurt people. And it's usually people I love the most, because people that don't know me extremely well haven't seen this ugly side of me come out. Why is it that it's only the people that we love the most that we can hurt the most?

I've gotten better about my temper. The teenage years were obviously the worst because of those horrible raging hormones. There was a time period in college where it wasn't so pretty because of another little chemical imbalance I was dealing with. It came out a little while I was dating Jerod just because I was dealing with being raw and vulnerable to another person. And of course marriage is a huge adjustment that throws my balance off even more and lets the ugly angry-Andrea beast out.

I've been blessed to be surrounded by extremely forgiving people that love me very much. My parents and siblings have seen the ugliest parts of me, yet they still display love to me. Jerod was so obviously made for me because of how he deals with my tantrums. He always acts in love when I get out of hand. He's calm and he never fights back with the same unloving anger that I spit out at him. And what I hate the most is that I wish I could promise that I won't get angry say or do hurtful things again, but I can't. It's a deep and dirty sin that I have a hard time stifling. I can work and work to get it under control, but I always screw it up eventually. I just have to constantly ask for that refining fire...and probably keep asking for many years to come. Pray for Jerod, would ya? :)

S is for...

Scrapbooking

This is my obsession of the moment. I really do like to scrapbook, but it's time consuming and a huge commitment. I've done a few projects in the past, but I generally get burnt out and lose my urge for a few years. I figured that my honeymoon was as good of a project as any, so I'm tackling it. I'm currently about a fourth of the way through the trip and I'm still having fun. My checkbook isn't though. I find every cute Italy sticker or embellishment or every travel themed paper and I MUST have it. Did I mention that I get a little obsessive about it? Michaels is my toy store...


This is my "work space". a.k.a. The movie room couch. I've camped out. I've taken over. Jerod must watch TV from exactly one square foot of space on the very tippy corner of the couch and dude, DON'T BUMP MY STUFF!! That empty space you see in the middle is where my lazy butt sits while I glue my fingers together and listen to my TV shows.


Ok, count yourselves very honored. You get to see my first page. I don't want to toot my own horn here, but I. LOVE. IT. I thought long and hard about this page and I was oh so pleased at the outcome. If you think it's ugly, I don't want to hear it. Because I don't care. I love it. That's it.

I'm hoping this ambition/motivation lasts just long enough to get the dumb thing finished. I don't want to peter-out halfway through and I also don't want to bite off another stinkin' huge scrapbook project. And then maybe I'll get the scrapbook urge again in another three or so years...

R is for...

Rebellion

I've been hung up on my R word for awhile. I couldn't think of anything that sounded particularly interesting. I thought about doing Rebellion earlier, but I just didn't have the motivation to do it. Then, people started asking when my R-post was going to appear. Ironically, as soon as I started getting asked about it, the more rebellious I got about putting the time into putting one together. Yes. This is how my childish mind works...

I credit my rebellious nature to my mom. She is a incredibly strong independent woman that will most likely tell you exactly how she feels about something or someone. The doesn't conform to ANYONES standards and often goes against those standards just to prove that she can.

When I was single, I used this rebellious nature to my own amusement more then I should have. I got sick of the rude questions about when I was going to get married, so I would respond with my own rudeness. I have an aunt in particular that I would play this game with sometimes suggesting that I preferred women instead of men with my dry sarcastic way that she never could tell if I was serious or not. Or I would tell her that I hate kids anyway so why would I ever get married and bring more brats into this world. It's mean, I know. But, she is always incredibly rude with her comments and I just couldn't bring myself to do what Jesus would do.

Another one of these incidents was with some old family friends that we used to attend church with. I was sitting next to them at my grandparents' 50th anniversary party and they started in on the marriage questions. I was feeling particular feisty that day...

Them: "So, Andrea, do you have anyone 'special' in your life at the moment?"
Me: "Actually, I do! We're actually living together right now."
Them: *blink blink* "Really?!? Andrea...."
Me: "Yeah. He's also black."
Them: ...
Me: "His name is Cache. And he sleeps in my bed with me most nights."

Now, I'm not totally cruel. Before anyone keeled over with a heart attack, I quickly told them that I was talking not about a human, but about a dog. It was quick suffering, I swear.

I often get tired of my inherited need to rebel. Why can't I just go with the flow and be happy? And mostly, I can. But, it's my rebellious nature that also helps me stand up for what I believe in. It helps me speak with honesty in times when I feel it's the most important. And in times when it gets me in trouble, I just blame it on my mother.

Q is for...

Quirky

I know everyone has a few quirks about them, so I thought I'd tell you about some of mine. (Except the one's I've already told you about in my P-post.)

Before closing my cell phone and putting it away, I HAVE to wipe the cheek grease off the screen. I can't close it dirty.

If my Google Reader has any unread posts in it at ALL, it drives me nuts. I have to finish reading them. It's like having an unfinished sandwich in front of me. I can't just push it away. I'm the same way with books. No matter how much a book sucks, I have to finish it. I'm actually in the middle of one of those right now...and hating every page. (Which is strange, because I have no problem dropping other projects before finishing them. I still have touch up painting to do in my kitchen that I painted two years ago.)

I'll spend $70.00 bucks on a good pair of sheets, but I cringe at a pair of shoes or any article of clothing that is over $20.00. That might shed some light on just how important my sleep is to me.

I firmly believe that Neosporin is a cure-all for absolutely everything. It's like Mr. Portokalos's obsession with Windex.

I have a bizarre relationship with tweezers.

In fact, if I had to choose two tools to take with me onto a desert island, I would take tweezers and Neosporin. No doubt.

This one is gross. I pick at my scabs. Constantly. And I chew on my lips when I'm nervous. These two things are what started my relationship with Neosporin, I believe.

I am freakishly organized about some things, but embarrassingly unorganized about other. I have every single utility bill from the last 5 years chronologically filed away in folders. But, if you ask me where I put the scissors (or scotch tape) last, I have no idea....and then you'll find them later in the produce drawer of the refrigerator.

There are oh so many other ones, but I think that's enough dirty laundry...

P is for...

Phobias

Most of the time, I can overcome fear pretty easily. I'm not scared of water, or closed in spaces, or death, or heights, or spiders. I don't especially like public speaking, but I can muddle through most days if I have to. But I do have a few things that totally freak me out.

Snakes
I absolutely DESPISE snakes. Actually, anything reptile-like is gross. But snakes give me the ultimate creepy crawlies. Whether it is on TV, in real life, a picture in a book, whatever! Just get it away from me. Snakes are gross. Period. It takes me quite a bit of "pumping up" time to even go in the vicinity of Elvis, the albino python, at Exotic Pets.

People Touching My Neck
I'm not sure where this came from, but I have to be absolutely relaxed or completely trust the person completely in order to let them touch my neck. Otherwise, it's instant goosebumps, and I get all panicky.

Mice/Rats
Even the pet kinds. I picture them chewing on my toes or clawing their way up my legs. At work, we have a mice problem in our very old downtown building, so I think that is what has ruined me.

Burgulars/Peeping Toms
It's not so much the burgling or the peeping that scares me. It's the fright-factor. It's the idea of coming around a dark corner and seeing a man standing there. Or closing my mirrored medicine cabinet only to see someone in the reflection standing behind me. Or looking in a dark window and seeing dark eyes staring back to me. Oh man...I just got the willies just thinking about it...

Sidenote: Early on in our dating relationship when Jerod did not know this about me, he was over at my house and tried to scare me. He hid in my dark bathroom and when I came around the corner, all I saw was this dark figure standing there. It scared the CUH-RAP out of me! He learned quickly never to do that again to a single woman that lives in a big house all by herself.

Walmart
Maybe it's the crowds (because sometimes the mall at Christmas-time has this same effect on me) but I just absolutely freak out in that place. It's like I need to stabilize myself by hanging onto something. I usually walk along one side of the aisle and run my hand along the shelves. It's almost like over stimulation or something. All the people and the stuff to look at just confuse and disorientate me. Maybe this is why I do most of my shopping online.

Any Social Gathering With More Then Three People
I tend to clam up and hide in the corner hoping that people will think I'm the fly on the wall that I'm trying to be. Being sociable is not my forte. I tend to stutter and say or do things that are completely inappropriate. I'm not sure where this came from. Maybe from spending most of my day with a computer??? I guess social skills have an expiration date on them if not used regularly.

O is for...

Oh Snap

...and other idioms kids use these days that I don't understand or that just plain annoy me.

All definitions are compliments of urbandictionary.com

oh snap - (exclamatory phrase) a playful indication of surprise, misfortune, or insult
popularized by Tracy Morgan of Saturday Night Live, OH SNAP is seemingly derivative of oh no you didn't where an insulted person, for example a guest of Jerry Springer or often a spunky African American woman contends the insult being made against him/her. While derivative of "oh no you di-int," OH SNAP has more of an emphasis on playfulness and can be said by people other than those being insulted.

I just don't understand how to use this one. I kind of think I just shouldn't even try to pull this off.

pwned - a corruption of the word "Owned." This originated in an online game called Warcraft, where a map designer misspelled "owned." When the computer beat a player, it was supposed to say, so-and-so "has been owned."
Instead, it said, so-and-so "has been pwned."
It basically means "to own" or to be dominated by an opponent or situation, especially by some god-like or computer-like force.

Ok, I think "owned" is stupid, so why would I make it even stupider by misspelling it? And I still don't really get how you would pronounce it either...

it's on - what you say when the battle/showdown is about to begin, or when you want to fight someone after school.

Um...what exactly is on? On what? I can also include in this annoyance category, "Bring it on" or just "Bring it".

ridunkulous - something that is extremely ridiculous

Why not just say, "extremely ridiculous". Well, I got to admit, it IS kind of fun to say.

fo shizzle - slang for "for sure". Its most famous usage is: Fo shizzle, my nizzle.

I just think it's an excuse to use the z-sound...you know, cuz it's so underused nowadays.

that's dope - adj. cool, nice, awesome

Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Take slang for heroin or marajuana and make it into something that means awesome. Oh SNAP! (See? I just don't think I can use it right!)

N is for...

Naps

“Think what a better world it would be if we all, the whole world, had cookies and milk about three o'clock every afternoon and then lay down on our blankets for a nap.” ~Robert Fulghum

My mom tells me that when I was little, I would ask for my nap. Always wondering when it was time to go read a book and close my eyes. What kind of kid does that?

"I love a good nap. Sometimes it's the only thing getting me out of bed in the morning." ~George Castanza

Seriously, the thing that makes it possible for me to get out of bed on Wednesday through Friday, is to think about all the napping I will be doing in the approaching weekend.

"No day is so bad it can't be fixed with a nap." ~Carrie Snow

When I first started working a real job, I was so overwhelmed at all the information coming at me that the first thing I did when I got home was close my eyes for an hour or so. It made everything a so much easier to handle.

"There is more refreshment and stimulation in a nap, even of the briefest, than in all the alcohol ever distilled." ~Edward Lucas

It's 5:00 on a Friday afternoon and I have a choice between going out with coworkers for a drink....or going home for a nap. Um...no contest there. The tough decision comes when I have to decide whether I will take said nap before or after dinner.

"Consciousness: that annoying time between naps." ~Author Unknown

M is for...

Marriage

*******
DISCLAIMER: Ok, before you get all eye-rolly on me, I just want to say that I will try not to make this pathetic. It's not so much about my three months experience in marriage, but in my decision to get married. So stop with the rolling of the eyes! I couldn't come up with a super fascinating M word, ok??

I also have to say that I'm a giant hypocrite. I realize this. That actually came THIS CLOSE to being my word for my H-post. So, that being said, just know that I realize that I don't practice what I preach. I realize that I don't know anything about marriage. I'm new at this gig! But, I've got to try to take what I can learn from people around me and apply it. Chances are, I'll read this post a year from now, shake my head, and smile at my silly childish ignorance. But, I've got to try. And, hey, that's the risk of a blog, right? Spout your opinions only to be proved wrong later.

So, please, if an attitude of smugness or high and mightiness is seeping through this post, just stop reading. I'd rather it didn't be read at all then to be misunderstood. And then shoot me an email and tell me to get off my high horse. Ok? Done.

Is it still technically a disclaimer if it is longer then the actual post? No, seriously. I'm done now.
*******

Through the wonders of Facebook, I found an old friend I worked with in Kosovo. He is Albanian and currently finishing up school. We soon ended up on Yahoo Messenger to chat a bit and to catch up. The wonderfully refreshing thing about this friend is that there is no faky-ness in him at all and he had soon opened up to me about some struggles in his life. He's currently "dating" a girl in his church and his family and her family are expecting marriage soon. But, he's nervous. He has a head full of doubts about it, but culturally, it is the thing to do. Their dating is the same thing as engagement, so to date for a long time and never get married is somewhat unheard of. He soon asked me the question, "How did you KNOW you were with the person you want to be married to? I mean, how do you have that assurance that they will love you always?" I smiled as I typed my response, "I don't." He was very confused by my response, so I clarified by saying that the only person I can control is me. Rather then asking the question "Will this person love me always?", I needed to ask the question, "Will I love this person always even if he doesn't love me back?" I told him that I believe that love is a choice...and it's fleeting. While I dated Jerod, we talked endlessly about the commitment of marriage and how we both viewed it. We talked about love a little, but we both realized that was kind of secondary, since we knew we are both selfish and imperfect beings, especially at the love thing. Can I love as Christ loves? Can I choose to say, "Ok, I know you aren't always going to love me. I know you'll hurt me and betray me. But, you know what? I'll try my best to love you anyway. I'm committed to this."

At one of my bridal showers that some ladies from my church put on for me, they went around the circle and gave little snippets of wisdom to me. One lady cracked me up by telling me that she believes the reason that her marriage works is because God never allows them both be mad at the same time. There is always the loving, calm, rational one during a fight...and it's not always the same person. The more I thought about it, the more I could really appreciate what she said. I loved that thought of how God kept watch over them by, at all times, giving at least one of them the ability to speak in love and patience. If only we could all be so blessed.

So, really, it's not so much about trusting your spouse that they will honor their commitment, or they will love you forever. It's about trusting God that he will help you with the commitment YOU have made. That sounds a little depressing doesn't it? Don't get me wrong. I love Jerod. I trust Jerod. But, I also know that he is, like me, a sinner. And we'll both make mistakes. Our only hope is to have God in the center of our relationship and rely on Him that He'll make us the spouses to each other that He has intended.

L is for...

Lazy

I'm sure this comes as no surprise to anyone, but I'm extremely lazy. I think that's an inherent trait in programmers. They only write programs that will do for them something quickly that they are too lazy to do the long way.

"I don't think necessity is the mother of invention - invention, in my opinion, arises directly from idleness, possibly also from laziness. To save oneself trouble."
--Agatha Christie

I don't even really like computers in and of themselves. I only use them because I'd rather shop ebay from sitting on my butt then taking a shower, putting on makeup and going shopping in a real store. Seriously. My Christmas shopping last year was done entirely from my office chair. No exaggeration. Facebook? I'm only on it because I don't want to excert the energy on picking up the phone to call a friend or on actually writing a real-life letter. Here, let me throw a sheep at you to show you how much I care.

Jerod and I like to watch The Biggest Loser sometimes, but the only time we can get to watching it is during dinnertime. Nothing screams lazy like hunkerin' down on the couch with a blanket and a sandwich to watch a bunch of people try to lose weight. I'm inspiring, aren't I? It's almost as bad as sitting down to watch a workout video.

When I go to the gym to workout, I will drive around for 5 minutes trying to find the closest parking spot to the door as possible. Makes perfect sense to me.

When Jerod and I are both on a computer at home, rather then getting up to walk to the other room and actually talk to him, I just IM him instead.

Ok, that's enough. I'm too lazy to write more anyway.

K is for...

Kosova*

I can write a book about this topic. I actually should and then maybe my feelings for the place wouldn't be so bittersweet. But, I'll try to keep this as short as I can.

When NATO bombed Kosova in 1999 and the world was made aware of what was happening there, I remember sitting in front of my TV and for the first time, being moved by something happening outside my world. I was just graduating high school and had my scholarships and funds set up so that I could attend college fairly financially pain-free. I remember watching the news and thinking, "I want to help. Here I am, blessed and free, and there are people being pushed from their homes and being separated from their families." It was the first time I'd ever really been aware of suffering in the world and actually wanted to help.

I went on to school and eventually became involved in the Baptist ministry on campus. We had a high population of International students from the Middle East because of the Petroleum Engineering program. I started becoming interested in Islam and started researching it. I felt like I wanted to spend a summer doing some sort of mission work with Muslims, and I got on the Baptist's International Mission Board website. I entered in that I wanted to work with Muslims, I entered the dates I wanted to go and the budget I had, and guess what opportunity was the first to come up? I quickly signed up and soon was approved to go to Kosova for a 10 week stint teaching English to ethnic Albanians.

The summer of 2001, I got on a plane all by myself and went overseas for the first time in my life. I remember flying into Prishtina and seeing the evidences of NATO's bombing from the plane. My heart instantly broke for the country and the people and my tie to the place was bound. I spent that summer teaching English and making wonderful friendships with some of the coolest people I have ever met. I worked with the children of the neighborhood I lived in teaching them Bible stories and we even put on a play for their parents at the end of the summer of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. I cried when I left and promised my friends I would try my hardest to come back.

The next year, I worked hard to be able to return to Kosova the next summer. I did my required internship for my major while I was going to school full-time just because I wanted my summer free of obligation. That year of school was the most difficult ever, but I was focused. God provided, and I soon had the time and the funds to return. I returned as an independent missionary and lived on the balcony of a missionary that was there with the IMB. I quickly found that if you go into the local university and say, "I'm a computer science student from America and I would like to volunteer tutoring or teaching." you are soon snatched up and have more work then you know what to do with. I taught beginner database classes to people through a program at the university that provided the classes free of charge. Many of my English students from the previous year even signed up for the classes. It was, by far, the most fulfilling thing I have ever done. It is still to this day the only time I have felt that my degree was used for something bigger then just myself. I was able to give job skills to people that lived in a country with a unemployment rate that was almost 60%. It blew me away.

Like I said, I could write a book about the people I meet, experiences I had, lessons I've learned. I think about how driven I was. I've never been that determined about anything like that in my life...and have yet to be again. That's how I know it was a God-thing that I went and that it all happened for a reason. Why else would someone sleep on a foam mat on concrete getting bit by bed-bugs every night, or never know when you'll have electricity or water, but yet still be completely happy? My time there shaped me. It changed me forever. My view of God, the world, and people are all different because of it. I made lifelong friends. I made a difference. And I made some big mistakes. I learned about evil and ego and the true depravity of man...in myself. I didn't realize until much later that the reason I was sent there was not so that I would help and change others, but it was so that God would help and change me.

*Please note that the spelling I've chosen to use is not because I'm on one political side or the other, or I'm anti-Serbian. It's just that most of the people I met during my time in Kosova were Albanian and that is how I learned to pronounce and spell it during my time there.

J is for...

It stinks how some letters are SO HARD to come up with a word for, but others are so easy that you have a tough time choosing what to write about. That's how I feel about J, so I'm doing two words.

Jen
She's my sister. And my best friend.

Jerod
He's my husband. And my best friend.

The three of us have had a tough go of it.

I thought it was so funny that when I started to get to know Jerod, he reminded me so much of my sister. Not in a creepy Freudian way, but in a "You're cool and quirky and you make me laugh" kind of a way. No one understands me like my sister. I can be a little dry and sarcastic with my jokes, and that makes me misunderstood by most. My sister gets it. Then all of a sudden there was this guy that got it too. I couldn't wait for them to meet each other. (I even had a freaky thought that they might get along too well and Jerod would fall for her instead. Yeah, welcome to my brain. You like it here?)

So, then they met. And I was so confused as to why we all weren't instantly a hilarious threesome of best friends that could hang out and understand each others' weird jokes. They both didn't quite know what to think of each other and I translated it as them each not liking the other and it pissed me off. I honestly don't know why the first meeting went so badly. I can't speak for either of them. It might have been me. I maybe came across as insecure and both their protective claws came out. I don't know. All I know is that it broke my heart that they didn't instantly adore each other.

I'm not the best sister to Jen when Jerod is around, and I'm not the best girlfriend/fiance/wife to Jerod when Jen is around. I'm still working that balance out. It's hard to do because I never meant for one relationship to be a replacement to the other, yet I'm afraid it came across that way. I was living in the perfect world in my head where each relationship would supplement each other all would be peachy. I'm totally green at this stuff, but I suppose a lot of girls struggle with this when they get engaged or married. The whole girlfriend/husband relationship balance is hard. And it seems all three of us don't know quite what to do about it.

I know I get all "doomy" about it, but I'm not really. I know both my sister and my husband care about me and because of this, I know they won't give up on each other. They both know how I feel about them and I'm hoping that it will just take some time to find our balance.

I is for...

Independence

This word has evolved a lot for me in the last year. I used to be a pretty dang independent woman. I tried to at least appear strong enough and smart enough to handle anything on my own. There were a few years towards the end of college and after that I kind of adopted a "man-hater" attitude and decided that I needed to approach life with the thought that I would always be alone and I needed to remain strong enough to handle that. I planned for my future in a way that would suit me the best. After starting work, I immediately bought a house and set up my retirement fund because I didn't want to wait until I had a family to do that. I didn't want to count on that. I liked that appearance I had. I felt like I was intimidating. People didn't understand that I could go on a long road trip by myself and not be lonely. People would shake their head at me when I would go camping or hiking with just my tent and my dog. I remember one day in particular, I felt very proud coming into work with dirty hands from changing my own tire in about a foot of snow and freezing weather. I liked being single. I liked being independent. I liked being alone.

Then...Jerod happened. Just like that. We really enjoyed each others' company and spent almost all of our free time together almost immediately after we started dating. I have talked about it in a few of my blog posts how I would have freak out moments of how fast everything was happening and how I would suddenly miss my independence and try to cling to it desperately. I would let it build up and then have a crazy fight with Jerod and end up telling him that I just wanted to be alone for a day or two. It would hurt his feelings and confuse him because I would make a complete 180 turn on him. But, then I would go away and then come back in a day in a great mood because I had my independence "hit" and I was good to go for a few more weeks. He finally learned that when I get all crabby and snappy, he just needed to leave me alone and I would be just fine after awhile. It was a really tough adjustment.

When we got engaged about a year ago, I had a few more freak-out episodes because I felt like I was losing that independent personality and appearance that I was proud of. I wanted Jerod and my independence and I didn't know how to have both. It's tough in those months of wedding planning because you are so absorbed in yourself as a couple. You are learning about each other and you are dealing with family issues and other stressful things and it's really consuming of your time and energy. I guess that made my world smaller and the loss of my independence didn't become such a big deal anymore. I started focusing on US instead of ME and I wanted to work hard at making the US part work.

I wasn't quite ready for this dramatic of a change. The other day I was listening to that Avril Lavigne song "When You're Gone" and I was shocked that I could actually relate to her lyrics. (Usually, all I can do is criticize Ms. Lavigne's lyrical skills.)

I always needed time on my own
I never thought I'd need you there when I cry

This is how I feel about Jerod. I have never needed another person before. He isn't my identity and he doesn't define who I am, but he's my cohort in life and we're in it for the long haul. He is and always should be the second most important relationship (See "B" post for my #1 guy) in my life and I need to work to sustain it. So, that inevitably means a downsizing of my independence. That doesn't mean that my independence is completely gone, but it's nothing like it used to be. And I'm VERY ok with that.

On a sidenote:
Now that the wedding mess has died down, the world is bigger again (and now I have a wonderful partner by my side to face it). I feel like I need to apologize to my friends and family that I neglected in the very selfish wedding phase of my life. But, it needed to happen. Jerod and I needed (and still do need) to figure out "US". I haven't changed. I'm still me, but now with new and improved priorities. And I'm hoping this can only make me a better friend, sister, daughter, etc. Please bear with me.

H is for...

Honey


Yeah, that's right! I have another dog! Did you not realize that? I know I talk about Cache a lot just because there is always something newly destructed in his world. I realize that I neglect talking about my other puppy, but that's only because she's such a good dog and rarely shakes things up.

We rescued Honey about a year ago. Jerod had been researching Akitas and we decided that we would start looking for one. We looked into breeders, but a puppy was really expensive and since we were saving for a wedding, we didn't really see that as feasible. Jerod discovered an Akita rescue shelter in Oregon and on their website was a sweet picture of a little girl they had available to rescue.


After several weeks of phone conversations, coordinating drop off times, etc, we picked up our Honey bear in Spokane around the middle of December. She was extremely aloof and standoffish. But, after some bonding time with Jerod in Nebraska and after a couple weeks of getting to know Cache, she was quickly part of our family.

It has been so much fun watching her personality emerge since her rescue. We've been told by several people that have rescued dogs that it takes awhile for their true personalities to show through. Honey was very skittish and ambivalent to us for a long time. She slowly started becoming more attached to us and more responsive. She still had weird moments (like her sheer terror of thunder, or her irrational fear of the color white, or her crazy obsession with digging at carpet), but for the most part, she is nothing but a joy to us. She is quirkier then you think she is and just when you least expect it, she'll do something completely hilarious. Like the way she waits until you turn your back and she swipes your foot with her paw. Or how she will come up to you, do the playful puppy bow and then take off tearing across the yard.

I'll admit that it took me awhile to warm up to Honey. She was always intended to be Jerod's dog, but since she lived with me until we got married, I was the one that took care of her. I never felt that I played favorites between the two dogs, but I couldn't deny that connection with Cache since I have had him since he was just a tiny pup and it was just us two for so long. But, Honey has a way of worming her way into your heart and planting roots. From her playful pawing at your feet, to her extreme head tilts when she listens to you, she just oozes adorability. Ask anyone who has spent a little bit of time with her and they will tell you the same thing. She casts a spell on you and soon you can't wait to bury your face in her soft neck and give her a big ole' hug. I just can't imagine our lives without her.

My mom took the picture at the top a couple weeks ago when the dogs and I were home visiting.

G is for...

Grace

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast.
~Ephesians 2:8,9

I used to have a very different picture of grace in my head. I used to just think of it as a free gift. Through God's grace, I'm saved. It wasn't until later that I linked it back to God's forgiveness. By grace I am forgiven as well. This is when I put the "undeserved" in my definition. Grace isn't just a free gift, but a very much undeserved free gift.

That's like if I had a giant wonderful home. And a son. And some punk meets my son on the street and kills him. Instead of being bitter, I forgive the punk and invite him to live in my home and I feed and clothe and take care of him the rest of his life. The punk is never thankful and oftentimes destroys parts of the home and even lies, cheats, steals and murders even more peoples' sons. But, I let him remain. And I love him. And I keep my promise to take care of him and provide for him forever.

Uh....what?

Who has believed our report?
And to whom has the arm of the LORD been revealed?
For He shall grow up before Him as a tender plant,
And as a root out of dry ground.
He has no form or comeliness;
And when we see Him,
There is no beauty that we should desire Him.
He is despised and rejected by men,
A Man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.
And we hid, as it were, our faces from Him;
He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.
Surely He has borne our griefs
And carried our sorrows;
Yet we esteemed Him stricken,
Smitten by God, and afflicted.
But He was wounded for our transgressions,
He was bruised for our iniquities;
The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,
And by His stripes we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray;
We have turned, every one, to his own way;
And the LORD has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.
He was oppressed and He was afflicted,
Yet He opened not His mouth;
He was led as a lamb to the slaughter,
And as a sheep before its shearers is silent,
So He opened not His mouth.
He was taken from prison and from judgment,
And who will declare His generation?
For He was cut off from the land of the living;
For the transgressions of My people He was stricken.
And they made His grave with the wicked—
But with the rich at His death,
Because He had done no violence,
Nor was any deceit in His mouth.
Yet it pleased the LORD to bruise Him;
He has put Him to grief.
When You make His soul an offering for sin,
He shall see His seed, He shall prolong His days,
And the pleasure of the LORD shall prosper in His hand.
He shall see the labor of His soul, and be satisfied.
By His knowledge My righteous Servant shall justify many,
For He shall bear their iniquities.
Therefore I will divide Him a portion with the great,
And He shall divide the spoil with the strong,
Because He poured out His soul unto death,
And He was numbered with the transgressors,
And He bore the sin of many,
And made intercession for the transgressors.
~Isaiah 53

Yeah. That's grace. Undeserved salvation through an undeserved sacrifice.

Goosebumps.