Heads, Tails or Fleece?

Got Fleece?

Some decisions are too big to flip a coin over and so we pray and plead and ask the big guy for a sign.  But in marriage this gets a little murkier when one person clearly hears God and yet their spouse remains unsure.

So is the case in the Keller relationship.  We have a big whopper of a choice to make but there has been disparity between the two of us as to when to pull the trigger.  I’d tell you what this big superdeeduper decision is but then I might lose my special agent status and possibly compromise national security. 

Anyway, God was clear with me on the details but fuzzier with my hubby Tim.

We faced one another sitting Indian style on our bed one night (certainly the best way to compromise) discussing the pros and cons of our issue and Tim suggested we ask for  fleece from God. 

Now fleece harkens back to the tale of Gideon in the Bible, who asked for a sign from God after an angel appeared asking him to lead the Israelites in battle against the gnarly Midianites who were terrorizing the Israelite people and forcing them to hide in caves after overrunning their country.

Gideon was understandably freaked out at the angel’s suggestion.   He promised to obey the command: but before commencing the battle he oh so casually requested a sign from God that the Israelites were certain to win the battle.  The sign Gideon asked for was this –that when he laid a fleece of wool on the ground, if the victory was with Israel, then the fleece would be wet and the ground dry.

He placed the wool on the ground, and taking it up the next morning found it wet, although the ground was dry. So he knew God was saying “get your sword out dude.”

But Gideon was still uncertain. He pleaded with God for a second sign. This time the ground was to be wet and the fleece of wool dry. God, who is infinitely more patient than me gave him the desired sign and then Gideon humbly obeyed and went out and kicked some Midianite butt.

Now Tim –just like Gideon –was requesting fleece.  It would appear he was simply asking for a sign, but I know my husband and in the back of my mind, I thought, “OK GOD, YOU HAVE TO PROVIDE FLEECE.”

Maybe a stinky sheep wool sweater or a wet stuffed Easter lamb on the lawn would suffice?  I know how literal my husband is and all the various ways God was clearly speaking to me weren’t making an impact on him.

So I’m on the freeway a few days later and I glance up at this white van in front of me and the license plate reads, “GOT FLEECE?”

It was my Evan Almighty moment!  My burning bush, my donkey talking! YESSSSSS!

Shaking and laughing, I risked peril and near death to reach for my iPhone and snap a few pictures to prove the sign to my husband.

Tim studied the pictures intently that evening and agreed this was indeed a sign.  He gave me that wise pastor look, “Sam, clearly God has spoken through a van on the 5 freeway.”

But then Tim (being Tim) smiled at me and said tongue in cheek, “Ok, now we wait for a second sign.”

Jinkies!  I know my husband is willing to follow whatever God calls him to do, I mean the man left his six-figure corporate income to go into ministry.  But come on…recognize the awesomeness of the van!

But then I am reminded how in marriage we don’t always see eye to eye and his quest for clarity might be a gift from God to balance out my more spontaneous nature.

Ok Jesus, got anymore dry fleece?

 

 

Seattle with the Kellers

The Keller’s are on vacation…

I thought I would have more time to write. I’m supposed to rest, right? But I forgot I have three children and a trip with a small tribe, Tim Keller and my in-laws is not exactly conducive to contemplation. Fun…oh yeah! Quiet…not so much!

Keller Home

We are staying on Bainbridge Island which is seven miles across the Puget Sound from downtown Seattle. There are no words to describe how stunning it is. I should be paying my in-laws to visit. The Keller house perches on the water of the Sound with a forest behind them. I can sit on the sofa and see the skyline of the city over the crystal blue waves. It’s gorgeous.

Deck with a dusting of snow

From sun-up to sun-down we eat gourmet food, walk about ten miles a day through a rainforest and then drink great wine. It’s a wonderful way to get in touch with nature, expand my ass and get really strong calves.

Bainbridge Island from the Ferry

I wish I could say it’s been all relaxing, but thanks to my dramatic tween-age daughter who has been forced to share her iPad with her siblings and a ginormous lemon bar with the family at a coffee shop we have had DRAMA and tears. If this is a hint of PMS I am terrified. I seriously want to bang my head against the wall when trying to decipher Faith’s emotions.

Faith, Kolby and Me

I AM NOT EQUIPPED FOR PUBERTY! AAAHHHHH!

Pike Place Market

Why can’t they just stay cute and little like our bossy baby Kolby?

Seattle Aquariam

Kyle has fared well. He loves the cold and the rocky beach and he whittled himself a spear to stab deer in the face. Of coarse the only thing he has actually bloodied has been his finger. I think he imagines himself to be a wild mountain man surviving on the rocky beach with nothing but his weapon, some raw oysters and a small boat to ride the waves and survive. We like to encourage his dangerous fantasies and we send him out to play often.

We went on the Underground tour yesterday in Seattle. This is crazy and will mess with your mind. There is a whole network of the city underneath the ground. Talk about a subculture! The city apparently was built on a mud flat and after the great fire of 1889, they rebuilt the streets one story up-leaving a secret world for the red-light district, criminals and chinese immigrants. It was disturbing and creepy and they do ghost and vampire tours at night.

Dude, where is the vampire?

When I’m up here in the Pacific Northwest I appreciate the Twilight/vampire and Indian lore more because the climate is so moody. I can’t stop staring at all the gothic teens and yoga people searching for something -anything to make them feel better. It’s like these people can’t understand that what they are missing is freaking SUNSHINE (and maybe Jesus)!

Underground

I told my father-in-law I’m not sure I could live up here despite the overwhelming beauty. I honestly think I would be so depressed from the lack of light I wouldn’t be able to appreciate it.

Space Needle

It’s nice to visit but I’m ready to come home. And I know it’s sunny in the picture above. But I need more than a few hours. I’m greedy like that.

Did you check out Faith’s wolf hat? It’s to scare the vampires!

Are you too comfortable in your relationship?

My husband mentors a group of twenty-something guys courageously trying to do dating different.  Fortunately in God’s economy, as much as Tim pours into dater dudes, they in turn flood our lives with uproarious laughter through daily text updates on their awesome dating adventures/catastrophes.  I adore these guys and I love how they make my husband light up like a Christmas tree.

So, I was talking to one of the dater guys at church the other day debating over how much looks should be a part of the process of his dating selection.  And as the conversation heated up, I felt myself getting agitated by his blatant bias towards beauty. Just as I began to climb up onto my soapbox and really lay into him- I got the nudge.

From the Holy Spirit that is.

And a vision of my own shallowness in the dating realm nipped at my toes.

“Really Jesus? Now?  I’m chewing him out so well.”

Yep.  Now is a good time Sam.

Right.  Deep breath.

So I fessed up.  I admitted I used to be a sucker for ripped abs and Tim had me at six-pack.

Dater guy looked at me with a puzzled expression.

Here I am busting his balls for dating hot chicks and yet one of the reasons I (initially) liked my guy was because he made me weak in the knees.

Dater guy looked at me weird.   “Pastor Tim?  Pastor Tim was fierce?”

Tim walked up then.  He rolled his eyes. “Is she telling you about how fabulous my abs used to be?”

Dater guy nodded his head yes.

And then Tim ratted me out.  “She isn’t exactly the same woman I married either.”

OUCH!

Ok, maybe I’ve let myself slide a little.  Ok, a lot. 

“Isn’t the fact that I used to be hot, enough dear?”

We laughed on the way home, because we love each other deeply and for way more than just the looks department.

But it made me think about how once we got married and oh so comfortable; we began to let ourselves go –one mystic tan and protein shake at a time.   I guess, since we already bagged the love of our life, it was a relief to stop the madness of trying so hard to be uber attractive.  It’s much more fun to relax on the sofa holding hands with a bag of Doritos and some Girl Scout Cookies.

But how far is too far?  Have I gone too far?  Clearly…I might need to shower more because exhausted mommy with baby poop on her isn’t doing it for my man.  (This was revealed to me on the way home)

So what is a good balance between apathy and relational confidence?  Between showing your spouse you care enough to be attractive and yet not overdoing it to get outside attention?

So I came up with a test. 

1. Do you shower most days?

a. Yes  +10  b. No -15  c. Define most?  -5

2. Is alcohol or chocolate one of your food groups?

a.  Yes  -10  b.  No  +10  c.  Does chocolate covered bacon count?  -5

3.  Do you wear clean underwear? 

a. Yes  +20  b.  No -50  c. Are you talking about the days I shower?  -25

4.  Do your pajamas have sock monkeys on them?

a.  a. Yes  -10  b. No  +10   c. The sock monkey is in the pajamas  +25 

5.  Ok Ladies…Are you within 10 lbs of your honeymoon weight?

a.  Yes  +10  b. No  -10  c.  Does my honeymoon weight include my wedding dress?  -25

6.  Hey Dudes?  Are you still sporting a mullet?

a.  Yes  -10  b.  No  +10  c.  I’d love to have a mullet because it would mean I had hair!  -25

7.  Have you had a pedicure in the last six months?

a.  Yes  +10  b.  No  -10  c.  Is it a problem if I rip sheets with my toe-nails?  -25

8.  Is lingerie a foreign word in your marriage?

a.  Yes  -10  b.  No  +10  c.  Does my husband’s V-neck t-shirt with pit stains count?  -25

9.  Is your idea of a hot date going to Costco and eating samples for dinner?

a.  Yes  -25  b.  No  +25  c.  Splurged on the ice-cream on the way out  +10

10.  Do you get moderate exercise?

a.  Yes  +50  b.  No  -25  c.  Men-if your primary wardrobe consists of sweet muscle shirts and you drive your Camaro to the gym twice a day  -50  Ladies-does Gymboree with my toddler count?  -25

Results:

Below 0=You might need a marriage makeover

1-80 = Soft in the middle…but on your way.

81 + = Keep Rocking it!

*Sidenote*  Sam got +75 and Tim got -25   (must have been the Camaro that took him out)

 

 

The Stigma of “Single” in the American Church

I was thirty-two when a frog kissed me and I magically turned into a single person.  All of a sudden the veil of married person apathy lifted and I saw all the stuff that whizzed past me before –namely how church wasn’t all that much fun when you’re flying solo.

It really hit me the first time I had to go church all by myself.  With my new single vision goggles I realized how intimidating it is to even walk in the worship center a la carte.  If you stand at the door for more than a minute it becomes apparent you are missing half of your species.  It reminds me of Noah’s Ark.  In the couples go, two by two, a pair of every kind. 

And there you stand, all awkward with a cup of coffee grasped like a lifeline, so you have something cool to do –like sip, pretending that being alone is a choice and not a condition.

Once in the sanctuary I would sit and listen to a sermon geared towards a nuclear family –now it might be a dysfunctional nuclear family, but spiritual metaphors were generally culled from a conflict with a spouse, teen angst or making amends with a cranky neighbor. As a single mom in a condo, just trying to survive and get my kids to school on time without losing my marbles…it was a little tough to relate.

The pastor would generally poke at the singles over thirty.  He would remind us we were too picky, not that awesome of a catch anyway, and urge us to get our “sparkly act” together (i.e. get in shape, smile more, and stop being weird).

Strangely enough, church wasn’t a safe place when I was single.  It made me feel even more lonely and sad.  And single is such a strange description these days for an unmarried person because people under thirty do not consider themselves single –they identify themselves as young with options.  It’s the over thirty folks who wake up one day and says “Jinkies, I’m starting to get old and I’m still alone.”

And this is when you realize you are single.

Ironically over half the church population is unmarried and I would reckon many of these people feel like the unwanted step-children at their church.  This isn’t a blanket statement and I know there are vibrant, single people who flourish at church, but I hear the hearts of many more singles that are floundering and can’t comprehend why the church seems to turn its back on this group.

I have a few theories –though I imagine there are a multitude of reasons. 

Most Sr. Pastor’s Can’t Relate

First, most Sr. Pastors and pastors in general marry young.  And even though I agree with the theology of marrying young and growing old together, it doesn’t happen for everyone.  People make mistakes, we have broken “pickers” and divorce happens, even to good Christians.

Our culture has deceived us into believing we need to postpone marriage until we have our lives figured out –money in the bank, a big house, and a great job. But when the lure of having it all together evades us due to job loss, college debt and a bad economy, we are left with shattered dreams and without the proper tools to move dating relationships towards marriage.

Most Sr. Pastor’s  do not understand what it’s like to walk in the shoes of a thirty something perched on a stool at Starbucks waiting for their thirty-fourth date from E-Harmony and hoping…praying, maybe, just maybe this is the one. 

Preaching to the Bread and Butter

This one might bite but I’m going to say it anyway.  Generally speaking, singles do not have a reputation for tithing as much as married people do.  The Barna Group in a recent study on Trends in Tithing and Donating revealed only 1% of single unmarried adults give money to the church.  So, if I’m a Sr. Pastor trying to keep the doors open, I would probably direct my time, resources and metaphors to the married couples.  Sad but true.

The Church is Aging

There is a new initiative in church circles to go after the younger twenty-something generation because the church population at large is aging, waning and turning grayer by the minute.  But this younger generation does not consider themselves to be “single,” –remember?  So, the thirties and forties “Singles” groups are being discarded to make way for this “attract the Christian youth movement.” 

It doesn’t help that young people are turned off by single references, they perceive singles ministry to be lame, and despise any reference to the fact that they are alone (because they are young with options).  And the savvy churches who don’t want to go extinct are going after this younger group with a passion.  Which unfortunately…leaves the single thirties and forties high and dry.  

The Lost Generation

Singles Gen-X’ers somehow got lost in the middle.  It’s a sandwich demographic that has been usurped by aging baby boomers and a push to be relevant to the hipster post-post modern generation.  Many churches are getting rid of their single ministries for the very reasons I stated above.  In the “Simple Church” model we are all one church ministering to each other as a community and I believe this to be true in parts –through Sunday worship, volunteer service and outreach to the poor and needy.

And while we don’t want to recreate life stage ministries that take away from this united church community, it still doesn’t take away the desire for new mommies to want to connect with new mommies and not talk about menopause with the hot flashers, and couples who want to engage with other couples, and most importantly –the unmarried population, whether they recognize they are “single” or not who want to meet and connect with other people in their life-stage.

Combating these issues isn’t boiled down into one easy fix; it’s a battle we all must engage in.  First –the church is responsible for speaking and ministering to the needs of the single person (51% of the population) and moving towards them with care and compassion, second –singles need to recognize the lure of the world doesn’t lead to “happily ever after,” and third, we as a community of Christ followers need to encourage, embrace and stand up for marriage –and give singles a reason to even want to move towards this relationship.

Talk About Sex

Yesterday, someone in my writing group suggested I write a lot about sex. 
 
Ummmmm guilty.  I actually mention sex in my blog posts six percent of the time.  I calculated this number for personal clarification or possibly because I was a tad bit defensive.
 
So, I think this “sex talk allegation” deserves a proper response.
 
I don’t talk about sex simply for shock value, because I want you to think my husband is a voracious horn-dog, or because I am a secret sex addict -as a woman in my group suggested.
 .

I talk about sex because I believe the church has done a really bad job in not talking about it. 

 

There.  I said it.  I think the church has screwed this one up (no pun intended).
 
We (the church) have let the world define sexuality and allowed it to be removed from its very creator.
 
We have let the world define sex in marriage as a chore and adultery as an epic romance.
 
We have let the world  polarize “sexy” into something perverted, unchristian and sinful. 
 
We have allowed marriage to become a business deal and sex to become a hobby.
 
There is a an epidemic of married women who are so exhausted from working full-time, raising kids and trying to be superwoman they are neglecting their husband’s sexual needs and justifying it all in the name of feminism. 
 
There is an alarming trend of married men who are so resentful of women emasculating them, they have turned to porn, football and work addictions to cope (only further isolating their wives by disengaging their hearts even more).
 
And the mere fact that a pastor’s wife openly discusses sex and (gasp) encourages it in marriage makes some people uncomfortable.
 
Just to be clear, my husband has a perfectly normal desire for intimacy.  He is a healthy male who loves and desires his wife.  And I am not always frisky.  In fact, I am usually exhausted, overwhelmed and sometimes play dead to get some sleep.
 
But when I let God whisper into my marriage…I am reminded that I chose this man and made a committment to care for his needs, not justify my own.  And I try to find, deep within me -in the dregs of my crusty heart, the extra effort to love my husband in a way he feels loved. 
 
I talk about sex because someone in the church needs to. 
 
So when a fellow writer insinuated I might be a sex addict yesterday because  I blogged about how my husband and I take vacations or “sexcations” without our children I just about fell over. 
 
Not everyone get’s my humor.  And not everyone has the luxury (or the misery) of knowing my heart behind the words I pen.  I write satire.  It’s supposed to make you laugh not analyze my neurosis.  And for the record, I’m pretty open about those too.
 
In all honesty, my husband and I didn’t have sex before we were married.  Maybe that’s why we like it now.  We have the security of knowing, without a doubt, we love each other for more than how we make each other feel.  I practically skipped down the aisle when I married this man because I knew he loved me for me and not for sex. 
 
I actually went to an SA (Sex and Love Addicts) meeting once.  My friend dragged me there because I was struggling to end a bad relationship.  After one very poignant and humiliating meeting, where I thought I was going to die, I drove home and broke up with the jack waggon.  Thank you SA for empowering me!
 
I make jokes about sex.  This is true.  And it’s possible it might be on my mind more than usual right now because I’m trying to get knocked up.  But the deeper message I want to communicate is we as the church need to reclaim sexuality as a good thing within the relationship of a committed marriage. 
 
And that’s why I talk about sex. 
 

Champagne Taste on a Beer Budget

Five hands reached out to the center of the table and piled one on top of the other.  Kolby’s little arm had to stretch really far, but she got the tips of her fingers in as our family made our New Year’s pact.

“One, two, three…Yo Gabba Gabba,” we yelled out to seal our commitment. 

The crowd at CPK (California Pizza Kitchen) looked at our table in open curiosity.  Our family isn’t exactly a quiet bunch and tonight we were celebrating Kolby’s second birthday.

First, we went around the table and affirmed our little girl.  Kolby beamed over her mac-n-cheese and pizza.  Then we picked one New Year’s goal each and shared it with the table.  We finished up by picking one crucial action item we could each do in the next few months to turn our goal into a reality. 

Our conversation was sincere, tender and full of cheers and encouragement.

The family next to us glanced over at us occasionally.  Their boys were dressed in the height of surfer cool and the mom and dad had the “OC well groomed look” (i.e. hours at the mall, salon, dermatologist and gym).  Each child got their own meal and soda.  It was obvious their entertainment budget had more wiggle room than ours.

Our family was out to eat on a gift certificate received from a congregant as a Christmas present.  Each of us split a meal and we made our kids drink water.  I dressed baby Kolby in a birthday girl t-shirt, just to make sure the restaurant didn’t forget to give us our free ice cream sundae.

Just as they delivered Kolby’s monstrous sundae (amidst a loud and lusty rendition of “happy birthday”) and the five of us dug in –snarfing like wild dogs on the baby’s treat, I noticed the other family getting served individual desserts the size of Texas. 

I looked at my husband and chuckled, “You know you’re the financially strapped pastor’s family when…”

  • The waiter hates you because the bill is always couponed, meals are split, and they have to ID your kids to make sure they are twelve and under for the kids menu (the hair on my son’s lip and almost six-foot status might indicate an older teen-ok he’s thirteen)
  • The baby yells out “Amen” when the food arrives because she is hungry and doesn’t want to wait for prayers.
  •  The homeless guy in the parking lot is wearing an outfit you have in your closet because the same rich family in town gave you both their hand me downs.
  • You get excited when your kid loses a tooth with a cavity in it. What a saver!
  • You re-gift nice gifts you actually want.
  • You consider washing the birthday girl t-shirt and wearing it the next time you go out to get another free dessert.  (The two-year old won’t catch on for a while)

You also really know you’re the pastor’s family when the rich kids next to you look longingly over at your table and wish they could abandon their big sundae’s and fancy clothes to come and hang out with the big, noisy family where the mom has just spilled ice-cream all over the son’s pants as they try to share bites and snort hysterically.

And even though I don’t love always struggling and pinching pennies, I also know there are some things money simply can’t buy.

 

 

Baby vs. Puppy -The Final Decision

After a good deal of prayer, looking for various signs from heaven, and crying out for fleece (and then more fleece because God can’t really be serious about this), I think Tim and I are going to go for the BIG TRY.

For a baby that is. And some poor dog out there is out of a doghouse now because we dissed him.

Basically “trying” means we are having necessary sex vs. the unnecessary sex we normally have.  This makes it much more official.

And since we want a boy child who will be a tall and a  stellar athlete I will be donning sports apparel and six inch heels for the “trying.”  (I’ve found it’s best to be specific with God)

I know some of you are thinking…seriously?  Raising four children seems rather excessive these days.  (It’s so Duggar)

I know.  I know.  Trust me…I know.  The pitter patter of little paws sounded so appealing.

And let’s be honest here.  I’m already overwhelmed.  As I write this, I have a huge baby snot stain on my nice work pants and some buttons on my shirt have gone astray.  I’m lucky if I pull a shower every other day and my makeup is haphazardly applied at stoplights.

I was so exhausted a few weeks ago I actually ate a nugget of baby poop thinking it was a cheerio. Let’s just say it was an unpleasant surprise.

We have a three bedroom home and it’s pretty darn full.  The only room left to put a baby in is the cabinet over the TV that I can’t reach.  Or maybe in the closet or the bathroom (oh wait…that’s daddy’s Man Cave).

Then there’s the fact that my husband works non-stop (three nights a week and six days a week) and he goes to seminary on his only day off- which leaves me completely hosed from a help perspective.  Of course I do have the older two minions, I mean children.

Crazy right?  So I’ve been asking for a sign.  And every sign that comes across my path is anti-dog.  Remember when Snoopy was trying to hook up with that cute little girl and then he realized he was a dog and the relationship was doomed (maybe because he was a canine and she was human) and everywhere they went there were signs that said “No Dogs Allowed.”  Yep –it’s like that.

I tried the throw open the Bible tactic to get a word from God on my Kindle.  This method lacks the “wow” factor of dramatically flinging open the scriptures, closing your eyes and dropping a finger down on a verse, but it was still effective.  I opened my Kindle, clicked on my Bible download and Psalms came up randomly.  I glanced down with intensity and bamm…a verse on how “God knits us together in our mother’s womb.”  Shut the front door!    Another baby reference. (Or maybe a knitting reference, but God knows I’m not crafty so it has to be about a baby –right?)

Then my husband Tim says he feels like God is saying to him, “Be fruitful and multiply.” Youza!  I’m thinking, “Are you sure he didn’t say –be fruitful and multiply our income?”

But my biggest objection is really not the enormous amount of work involved in having another munchkin, it’s the same fear I struggle with everyday –that I won’t be able to love everyone enough, or I’ll feel even more inadequate as a mother than I already do, and oh yeah –that I won’t have time to write or volunteer as a room parent and then there’s all the additional mommy guilt trips.

I guess I have to trust that with four rug-rats and the always lively Tim Keller I will probably have enough material for a full season of SNL and as for the rest, I’ll just have to leave it up to God. 

For those of you still not convinced –namely me, I will suggest to you that I do have three great kids and (because of or in spite their mother) they are tremendous little people.  They are giving, loving, talented and irreplaceable. (And the world really needs more good people and fewer jackwaggons, dang it!)

So…now that we got that settled, here comes the fun part –making the baby. 

(More bun in the oven jokes to tentatively follow pending the “trying” phase)

PS.  I was joking about wearing the six-inch heels. 

What new, risky and bold decisions are you making in the new year?

Not So Dirty Words

My elegant and always beautiful mother got on my case today for being redundant (which is a plight worse than death to a connoisseur of words). Apparently I’ve been using the word “crap” too much as of late –which is sort of funny because it’s not even the word I want to use.

“Crap” is an interim word –my Nicorette alternative to the real bad word which got me into hot water with the religious right who think I should be excommunicated for swearing.

So, I’m in this wishy-washy wasteland of trying to clean up my potty mouth and it’s not a pretty place to be. There aren’t that many words to describe my angst and sometimes the perfect word is a bad word and all I have to replace it is –the stupid “C” word. Oh, man there it again.

I’ve therefore decided to do some alternative bad word research and compile the greatest list known to mankind. (Parents: This is a PG-13 Rated List for slightly disturbing animal references and words that sound bad but aren’t)

Sam’s Not So Bad Word List

  1. Cursed Monkey Parts
  2. “Fargin Bastiges” (from Johnny Dangerously)
  3. Jack Wagon (one of my personal favorites)
  4. Crike
  5. Shazbot
  6. Son of a Biscuit
  7. Jiminy Hee Haw
  8. Shut the Front Door!
  9. Cheese and Rice
  10. What the Fish?
  11. “F,” or “eff”
  12. Pickle you Kumquat
  13. You IceHole!
  14. Drat
  15. Nuts
  16. Fark
  17. Sufferin Sucatash (Bugs Bunny)
  18. Ai Caramba/ Ai Chihuahua
  19. Son of Batches
  20. Blasted Tarnation
  21. Putain
  22. Mofakka
  23. Peanut Butter Bone Head (my personal creation)
  24. Blankhole
  25. Motherblanker
  26. “Oh Kelly Clarkson” (from 40 Year-old Virgin)
  27. arugula
  28. “faaaaaaaaaa”
  29. Poop on a Stick
  30. “inbreeders”
  31. shiitake mushrooms
  32. Dag gum it
  33. Bugger
  34. Badwordbadwordbadword
  35. Poo
  36. Jiminy Crickets
  37. William Shatner
  38. Rat Bastard
  39. Abominable Puss-Bucket
  40. Duck Sticker
  41. Cockadoodie used by the malevolent Annie Wilkes as an alternative for cursing in Stephen King’s novel Misery
  42. Catastrophuck A situation (i.e. a poorly planned, under-manned, under-equipped, mismanaged war) that reaches a point of horrific disarray. — from “The Daily Show with Jon Stewart” (10/3/06)
  43. You “Lando” (meaning “sell out” from Empire Strikes Back)
  44. Jinkies (Scooby Doo)
  45. Leaf Licker (Land Before Time)
  46. Mary-Jane rotten-crotch – from R. Lee Ermey in Full Metal Jacket (my husband thinks this line is hilarious but it’s borderline gross)
  47. Uranus (love this!!!!)
  48. Nutsucker (a baby squirrel)
  49. Sugar Honey Iced Tea – from the movie Madagascar. An acronym of the dreaded “S” word.
  50. Wrinklies – refers to…well, umm, the lower man parts –from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, episode School Hard.

Now I have no excuse mom, because I can use one of these fine descriptive words. The “C” word is OFFICIALLY retired!

Crazy Last Minute Gift Ideas

Like all women, I sometimes struggle with last minute gift ideas for my husband, so I Googled “pastor’s gifts” for some inspiration.  I found this nifty web-site called My-Pastor.com which had some intriguing gift ideas for the spiritual man in your life and some AWESOME ones for his lovely wife!!!!

That is…if you live in the magical land of Spare Oom bordering the Forest of Narnia and you have a large pile of gold.

This may be the most bizarre list of gifts I’ve ever seen and I can only assume the lady who wrote this had to be a disgruntled pastor’s wife who seriously needed Calgon to take her away. 

(She seems to have forgotten Rule #1 of blogging…don’t process your emotions on the internet)

I made a few notes so you would have a real-life PW’s perspective.

Pay for an overnight getaway for your pastor and his wife… provide babysitting if necessary.  Right.  Ummm-Hawaii sounds pretty cool.  An ocean-view pad with a personal pool and Jacuzzi is how this pastor’s wife rolls.  Oh yeah, and I have three kids.  Make sure to lock down the internet for the older man-child and don’t let the tween out of the house with five of her friends and a case of toilet-paper after dark.  The toddler is pretty easy if you like to watch five episodes of Yo Gabba Gabba.

Offer to keep her kids overnight on a Friday night. (We’ll be at Casa Ranchera if you need us, I mean Bible Study)

Pay for dinner and a show for the couple…provide babysitting if necessary.  I am really looking forward to Mission Impossible III, thanks for watching my kids again.  The baby likes mac-n-cheese.

Show your pastor appreciation… when he’s discouraged she is too.  He likes Hawaii too.  I’ll invite him to join me.

Get a group of ladies together and go shopping at an outlet mall a day’s trip away…add a mall gift certificate to make this pastor’s wife gift even better.  CABAZON!  Oh yeah!

A Special Gift Basket (let’s focus on the chocolate here people.  Cheese is good too)

Fresh fruit and vegetables…especially if they are from your garden or farm.  Does anyone have a garden or a farm in Orange County, CA?  If you have a potted plant with basil, I’m giving you props.

A walk in your woods with her husband. (Woods?  What woods? We have Ortega Canyon but people get mauled by mountain lions there)

Fence in her back yard so she can let her small children play in safety (ask first).  That’s clever that they tell you to ask first, I mean crap, can you imagine coming home to a new fence some random church member put up?)

Call her when your horse has just delivered so she can see a newborn kick up its heels…don’t laugh…I once helped a farmer deliver a calf. It gives you a new perspective when you watch an animal living in pure joy! (Oh, golly I always wanted to see a horse deliver.  Ummm, sounds like watching an ORK being delivered. What a GIFT! By the way, anybody have a horse?)

Provide the down payment for her dream home. (Heck yeah!!!!!!!)  But, I must confess I am living in my little dream home.  So, you can just cut me a check to create a writing studio over the garage, or to send our posse of kids to college)

Find out what kind of things she enjoyed before she was in ministry. Make it happen for her again. The schedule of ministry and the expectations of church members often encourage a pastor’s wife to be more conservative in areas where she would sometimes rather let loose. Help her do that…even if you have to take her two hours away so no one else from the church sees. (Can you say Vegas baby?  Ladies…pack your bags now!)

 Pay the monthly charges for a cell phone so she can stay in touch with friends and family. That’s $157.00 to be exact.

A corsage on a Sunday morning for no special reason except to say, “She’s special.”  (That sounds interesting-NOT)Babysit while she goes shopping. (Yessssss!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Drop off supper (call first).  If it’s before 6pm you don’t even need to call, because I never have my crap together before then anyway.

Buy a bag of groceries. (Not to be picky or anything, but I like ORGANIC)

Drop off a cup of her favorite cappuccino. (That’s an Americano from Starbucks with extra room and cream please)

 Get into the mindset that when you see special deals at stores such as “buy one get one free”, give the freebie to your pastor’s wife.  (Sweet!  Just don’t get the CVS diapers, because I bought a truckload on a special and they give my baby a rash)

Bad Reindeer

My phone started buzzing last night with one text after the next.  It was vibrating so much it jumped off the table.  I grabbed it and laughed and started texting back.

Apparently, our reindeer have been getting busy.  And it wasn’t the first time today.  My husband came home and found them inappropriately coupling and moved them apart only to have Rudolph get all frustrated and as soon as we shut the door mount Clarice again.

What is in the water at the Keller house?  And, oh by the way, my husband Tim added that last line to my text to Staci.  I think it was a hint.

Just after we delicately removed the young buck and his gal for the second time of the evening and donned our winter caps, John Ramsay texted us. 

“Your reindeer are getting all crazy.”

Crap! Again?  Do they just wait for us to close the door and then start humping?

I guess next year we are going to have a herd of reindeer because Clarice is already showing signs of morning sickness.  Or maybe she’s just exhausted by her frisky buck?  (I can so relate)

 

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