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As believers, we are encouraged to share the gospel wherever we go But how
do we do it? How do you tell someone the good news - that they can have a
fr...
3 days ago
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
More birthday pictures, because I have a kidney stone and don't want to bore you with news of how I want to rip my kidney out of my body and throw it into the nearest landfill. So instead, take note of my poor photography skills! See how the streamer is attacking Grace's head? And how I have cut off all of Alex's body except for his arm and now in the future we will only know what his arm looked like? The talent, it just oozes from my pores.
Here is Owen, showing you that he has broken his front tooth. Isn't it lovely? And then, as soon as this picture was taken, he fell over backwards as if in a dead faint. No one knows why.
And look! Grace and her headless cousin! At least I can blame this picture on Josie.
Last but not least, here is Ben's contribution. He wanted to get all creative and artsy. "LOOK!" he insisted, "It's all old-looking and stuff!" And that would be true, except that Grace and "Bruce" are playing with a Nintendo DS, and somehow I don't think that those were around when the world was young. Sigh.
Oh well. I hope you are all impressed with the mad skillz we've got going on over here. I'm off to await my kidney transplant.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Quick...my computer's gone crazy and the interenet connection keeps leaving me. But, I had to post photographic proof that I actually have an older daughter, because she usually runs away from my camera screaming. This is Josie holding my nephew, "Nemo". It was my older nephew's birthday party, and as you can also see from the picture, law enforcement was on the scene. Of course. Because what nine-year-old's party would be complete without that? Since I am frantically typing to avoid disconnection, I will let my sister-in-law explain it here. http://www.knowledgehouseacademy.com/2008/10/it-was-dragon-birthday-party.htmlEdited to add...If you feel so inclined to comment on Nikowa's blog, please do not mention in the comments that I am her sister-in-law. I mean, it's not like she doesn't know, or anything, but there are relatives who read her blog that I really would prefer were not reading mine. 'Cause I'm all shy like that.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Some mini-posts, because I am tired.
1. Grace did not win her election for Student Council Vice-President. Our neighbor won, because he rapped his speech. I am proud of him for his creativity, but I'm glad that Grace didn't think of trying it...especially since I had to write her speech. (I tried letting her do it, but this is what she came up with: "Vote for me. If you want to, I mean. I'm sure that everyone else is great, too, so if you would rather vote for them it won't hurt my feelings." Obviously, assistance was needed.) She'll have to find someone cooler next year, because my rapping skillz are severely limited. Yo.
2. Remember when I mentioned in passing recently that I needed to tell you about my great sock buying adventure? Well, it wasn't actually an adventure, but there was sock browsing and purchasing, and great fun was had by all. We spent about thirty minutes staring at a wall of socks, trying to find some that would not become all holey after two weeks of wear, and trying to decide if all of the female's in my house should just buy one kind of sock and share, or if we should all have our separate socks even though we all wear the same size and I cannot be trusted to remember that Josie has the ankle socks with the grey toe and Grace has the ankle socks with the pink toe. How confusing is that? I hate socks.
Anyway, while we were in the middle of this riveting activity, our old Sunday School teacher came up behind me and apparently wanted to be all friendly and have a conversation and such, and do you know what I did? I proceeded to tell him all about our sock buying quandry, as if he cared. The poor man now knows all about the holes in our socks and why this is driving me crazy, and the fact that I hate matching socks and would really rather clean the toilets than do so. I'm thinking that he is very glad now that he is not our present Sunday School teacher.
Clearly, I am socially challenged.
I'm thinking that I should limit all of my human contact to what can be accomplished through the computer. At least then, someone can stop reading when I start babbling on about the merits of colored socks versus the practicality of just buying all white ones and throwing them all into a collective sock container and having the family forage for something to cover their feet.
Kind of like you all just probably did. Stop reading, I mean. Not stop looking for socks. Okay, maybe the written word is not working out for me so much anymore, either.
3. Owen came up to me yesterday and climbed into my lap. "Mama," he began, "I think we need some babies."
I fumbled around trying to think of a way to tell him that was just not happening , but how do you say that to a four-year-old? Finally, I said, "No, Owen...I think you're going to be my last baby."
"I don't know, Mama" he told me, patting my stomach. "You look like you might have a few in there that need to come out!"
If there was ever incentive for weight loss, your child thinking that you are about to give birth to a litter of babies is probably it. And now that I have reminded myself of this conversation by blogging about it, I'm going to get off of this computer and do some jumping jacks to work off the four cookies I just accidently ate. Ya'll pray I don't rupture anything.
1. Grace did not win her election for Student Council Vice-President. Our neighbor won, because he rapped his speech. I am proud of him for his creativity, but I'm glad that Grace didn't think of trying it...especially since I had to write her speech. (I tried letting her do it, but this is what she came up with: "Vote for me. If you want to, I mean. I'm sure that everyone else is great, too, so if you would rather vote for them it won't hurt my feelings." Obviously, assistance was needed.) She'll have to find someone cooler next year, because my rapping skillz are severely limited. Yo.
2. Remember when I mentioned in passing recently that I needed to tell you about my great sock buying adventure? Well, it wasn't actually an adventure, but there was sock browsing and purchasing, and great fun was had by all. We spent about thirty minutes staring at a wall of socks, trying to find some that would not become all holey after two weeks of wear, and trying to decide if all of the female's in my house should just buy one kind of sock and share, or if we should all have our separate socks even though we all wear the same size and I cannot be trusted to remember that Josie has the ankle socks with the grey toe and Grace has the ankle socks with the pink toe. How confusing is that? I hate socks.
Anyway, while we were in the middle of this riveting activity, our old Sunday School teacher came up behind me and apparently wanted to be all friendly and have a conversation and such, and do you know what I did? I proceeded to tell him all about our sock buying quandry, as if he cared. The poor man now knows all about the holes in our socks and why this is driving me crazy, and the fact that I hate matching socks and would really rather clean the toilets than do so. I'm thinking that he is very glad now that he is not our present Sunday School teacher.
Clearly, I am socially challenged.
I'm thinking that I should limit all of my human contact to what can be accomplished through the computer. At least then, someone can stop reading when I start babbling on about the merits of colored socks versus the practicality of just buying all white ones and throwing them all into a collective sock container and having the family forage for something to cover their feet.
Kind of like you all just probably did. Stop reading, I mean. Not stop looking for socks. Okay, maybe the written word is not working out for me so much anymore, either.
3. Owen came up to me yesterday and climbed into my lap. "Mama," he began, "I think we need some babies."
I fumbled around trying to think of a way to tell him that was just not happening , but how do you say that to a four-year-old? Finally, I said, "No, Owen...I think you're going to be my last baby."
"I don't know, Mama" he told me, patting my stomach. "You look like you might have a few in there that need to come out!"
If there was ever incentive for weight loss, your child thinking that you are about to give birth to a litter of babies is probably it. And now that I have reminded myself of this conversation by blogging about it, I'm going to get off of this computer and do some jumping jacks to work off the four cookies I just accidently ate. Ya'll pray I don't rupture anything.
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