This morning, this is where I wanna be.

This post is going to be short and sweet. Normally, I have to censor myself from rambling and rambling and rambling and….you get the idea. But, writing a blog has forced me to say more with less.

So this morning, this is where I want to be. And here are a couple of reasons why:

1. I have cleaned up two rounds of cute puke before 7am.
2. I need to study for my real estate exam and truthfully don’t want to.
3. The leaves will not stop gathering on my front porch and I’m tired of sweeping them up.
4. I love hopping from hotel to hotel and not worrying about cat puke, leaves or studying.

Instead, I want to be walking the ancient streets of Europe-lit by the morning light-smelling the baking croissants and sipping an espresso. I want Biceps at my side sharing the memories with me as we bounce along to our next destination.

I want to go to a local European cafe, stumble through the language barrier, order slices of cheese, loaves of bread, yogurt and a beer at 10am. (Of course, the beer is for later…)

This is where I want to be this morning. But for right now, I’m off to clean up cat puke mess #2.

Where do you want to be?

One, Big Happy Family-the Power of Prayer

See this happy family? See that cool girl in red, wearing her big brother’s jacket because she was freezing to death but insisted on wearing that red dress no matter what? The girl with the immovable, poofy bangs protruding from her forehead? Yep, that’s me.

(Usually we were a much happier group. I think the cold froze our smiles off. Or it’s more likely we just sat through one of the most boring sermons at my Grandma’s church and were starving, tired and cold.)

Anywho-when I was about this age, while I sat in youth group one Wednesday night, sporting my sweet Guess jeans and a bright pink Guess T-shirt, my youth pastor told all of us to begin praying for our future spouses NOW.

And so, being the rule follower that I was, I did. I started off asking God for a hot guy. Then, I added to that a Godly guy. Before long, my list had grown to 42 things that I wanted in my man.

And ladies, this was what I was praying for all those years, unbeknownst to me. (If you ever had any doubt about the power of prayer-this is some smoking hot evidence that prayer really works.)

Here are a few things from the Spousal Prayer list of an 11 year old:

1. Brown hair, blue eyes and good-looking
2. Can skateboard (what?!)
3. Looks good at the beach
4. Likes to exercise
5. Hot body
6. Has ridden a bull
7. Encourages me to be me
8. Loves God, loves his family, loves my family and his family loves me
9. Wants kids
10. Likes cats
11. Is a musician, can play an instrument, likes to sing
12. Is a virgin
13. Raised in a Godly home

(It seems the “body portion” was very important to me at that age. Oh wait, it’s still important now.)

There were 42 things total and this man fulfilled my list-and then some. God is so good to a weird little girl and her 11 year-old dreams.

But, let’s take a look at #8 and #13 in particular.

At one point in my life, I dealt with a boyfriend whose family didn’t like me. It was awkward and awful. However, when I met Biceps’ family, they were easy to be around and instantly gave me a nickname-“peel-eater” (for eating the peels on my sweet potatoes-genius, I know).

The “mother-in-law syndrome”-that I thought was inevitable in a marriage-was nowhere to be found between us.

This beautiful woman (on the left) raised her children with God’s wisdom, honors her husband and honors the Lord with her life. Without her knowing it, she answered my prayers-particulary #8 and #13. And I love her for that-and for so much more.

Today is her birthday and I wish I could be there to celebrate with her. Instead, I will say a prayer of thanks that I married into such a wonderful family. And another prayer of thanks for the hot man God blessed me with.

Happy Birthday, Connie. You are an amazing woman of God. And by the way, great job at pro-creating. You made a good one-a real good one (see #1, 3, 4, 5).

Guess who’s back?!

Dear Readers:
Unbeknownst to most of you, Biceps has been out on tour for the past two weeks. I like to keep quiet about such adventures-knowing the internet can be a creepy place sometimes. But in less than thirty minutes, I will get to see this sweet face again.

I spent Saturday morning cleaning, grocery shopping and getting prepared for his arrival. I think it’s the anticipation of his return that thrills me to no end.

I have a roast in the crockpot for dinner (“supper” if you are from Iowa), fish set out for lunch (“dinner if you are from Iowa), snacks galore for in between (pretty sure the same nomenclature in Iowa) and of course-some IPA’s for him and some wine for me.

Soon enough, he and his suitcase will be home where they belong. Stinkin’ up the joint, but looking so cute doing it.

Welcome home, Biceps.

It’s Been 11 Years since 9/11

Dear Readers:
I would like to be completely honest with you. Are you ready? Are you sitting down? What I am about to say may shock you. You may never want to read my blog again, but that’s the risk I’m willing to take.

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I can be downright rotten sometimes. I can be selfish. I can say really stupid things. I mean, really stupid things. I can want what I want, when I want it. I can complain and grumble. I am in a category of ridiculous humanism all by myself. (Or maybe I have a few compadre’s out there who occasionally join me.)

This morning, God-in his infinite glory-snapped my selfish, grumbling, complaining, humanistic bubble this morning using none other than my husband. Biceps, the firefighter, was getting ready to leave for work and asked, “Today is the 11th anniversary of 9/11. What are you doing today?”

May I repeat, my husband-the firefighter, said this to me-the whiner.

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As I get ready to go to my Bible Study, make my phone calls, clean the house, and go about my day-this little question Biceps asked me will be gnawing at the back of my brain-“What am I doing today?”. Does it matter what I’m doing today?

What mattered to me, 11 years ago, was not my job (or lack thereof), not my blog, not my latest recipe. What mattered to me was only:
How many people survived?
Did my friend’s daughter make it to work that day in the Trade Center? Did she survive?
How many kids won’t have parent’s after today? And, how many parent’s won’t have kids after today?
What can I do? How can I help? WHAT CAN I DO?!

Instead of me, me, me, I was worried about everyone other than me. I was worried about people I didn’t even know, about the firefighters, the pilots, the passengers, the workers.

It’s ironic that I start my Bible Study Fellowship class today. God, once again-in his infinite glory-keeps this little whiner in check.

There. I hope I didn’t scare you off by revealing my ugly, selfish, whining side. I know, it’s disgusting. Please forgive me.