tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52848865414179613342024-03-05T18:17:34.301-05:00digging cheese out of carpetone mommy's (mis)adventures of the day-to-day <br>& her quest for clarity through creativityJuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.comBlogger143125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-59526220693843404822012-03-28T11:47:00.000-04:002012-03-28T11:47:00.299-04:00Faith: Found and Kept (part 2)<i>(This post is second in my "<a href="http://artjewl.blogspot.com/search/label/Faith%3A%20Found%20and%20Kept">Faith: Found and Kept</a>" series. <a href="http://artjewl.blogspot.com/2012/03/faith-found-and-kept-part-1.html">"Faith: Found and Kept" can be found here.</a>)</i><br />
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During college, I, like most young adults, was in the midst of discerning my beliefs and values. It's a time, for many, of trial by fire. Or at least trial by error. I knew I was pro-life. I knew I was for helping the hungry and homeless. I knew I supported my friends going on mission trips to dig wells in Nicaragua (though I never went -- I wish I had). I knew I was opposed to political regimes imprisoning people under false pretenses, especially <i>innocent</i> people. And I knew I was for people getting the health care they needed to live their lives to the fullest, despite their socioeconomic status. So I was happy to be part of a community that so actively supported events that raised money and awareness to remedy these problems. Well, most of them.<br />
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When I became pregnant with my first child, "pro-life" became more than a label. It became very real to me. How any woman who has carried a child in her womb can deny that a fetus is a baby is a human being -- well, it's beyond me. Something clicked for me. Part of it was no doubt the effect of the tickle of tiny feet from within my skin. But part of it, I think, was that I didn't feel ready. Yes, I was married and wanted to be a mom, but the truth was, motherhood came sooner than we had planned. We were caught off-guard. We were not on financially stable ground yet. We were not prepared. And this lead me to empathize with those women in tough spots, who "choose" abortion because they are afraid and unprepared. I was blessed with a loving husband and a strong support system. I knew I was among the fortunate. And so, while I gained a greater realization for the depth of the desperation a woman might feel, I also gained a more solid grasp on what a precious and magnificent gift a child is, and how amazing it is to be part of a miracle. I knew wanted to help save these lives, both those of the children in the womb, and those of the mothers who were considering making the worst choice of their lives.<br />
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As the pro-life cause grew into a passion within me, I came to search for ways to get involved through my church. But the most I could find was an annual tithe to a local Crisis Pregnancy Center. There were no groups from our church who went to any of the pro-life marches (though groups went to protest the School of the Americas). There were no drives to supply the local CPC (though there were regular collections of toiletries for AIDS patients and their families). There were no Natural Family Planning teachers or support contacts (though there were always letters to write on the behalf of political prisoners). And there were no speakers who would come speak out about the Sanctity of Life, though about once a year someone would come speak about health care for the poor.<br />
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I took this as a call to be the seed and to invite others to join ME in praying at the abortion sites and writing our legislators, in collecting funds for CPCs and goods for moms in tight spots.<br />
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No one took me up on my invitation to join me at the 40 Days for Life vigil. But that year in 2008, there was a full house at the church hosted information session about health care reform. I was there. But at that point, it was in hope that my growing suspicions had been wrong. I was hoping with a lonely ache that the church I had grown to love was not pro-choice.<br />
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<i>To be continued...</i></div>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-75911654735413281872012-03-27T10:58:00.001-04:002012-03-27T11:12:37.388-04:00Faith: Found and Kept (part 1)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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Two Sundays ago, I attended Mass at a church that I used to call home. My husband and I had split up for the day because one of our boys was sick, so he took one healthy kid to Mass in the morning at one church, and I took the other healthy kid to another church in the evening.<br />
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During and after church, my son and I were approached by several members of the community saying how good it was to see us and asking if and when our family would be returning.<br />
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One woman, a lay leader, said, "... if you can find it in your heart to forgive us." And I was taken aback. I had never considered that I had anything to forgive really. Just sadness for having grown apart.<br />
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But let me back up.<br />
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If you know me, I hope you recognize that I am a giving person and a forgiving person. I also expect you've probably noticed that I'm a pretty conservative Catholic. I am generally fiscally-conservatively minded, but I also embrace Catholic social teaching which calls us to stand in solidarity with the less fortunate among us and to be a voice to the voiceless. But I guess I didn't always identify myself as that conservative Catholic. I mean, don't we all go through events that lead us to do some soul searching? Or that essentially knock us upside the head with a "holy two-by-four"? Sometimes these events are subtle, slow shifts that nudge us from one school of thought to another. Sometimes they are more jarring and more defined.<br />
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A decade ago I was a happy member of a small Catholic community that served the local college students. I was one at the time. I loved the warm and inviting community, the inclusiveness, the quiet setting of the church. And I loved the priest who acted as our Campus Minister. I noticed at the time that he did some things differently: He used stoneware chalices and actual bread, not wafers for communion. And he invited us to speak the Doxology with him. I loved these things and how they made Christ more tangible to me. I needed these things at that point in my spiritual development. And it was good for me that I didn't realize these things were at odds with Church teaching.<br />
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<i>To be continued...</i> </div>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-87717079845077957422011-11-29T22:39:00.001-05:002011-11-29T22:39:52.859-05:00All he wants for Christmas...Tonight we took the boys to get their picture taken with Santa. During<br>their brief visit, Santa asked them what the number one thing was on<br>their lists:<p>C: "A green Angry Bird."<br>E: "A Bumblebee Blaster."<br>G: "[unintelligible toddler speak]"<br>Us: "What do you want, G?"<br>G: [befuddled look... then a flash of inspiration] "I SHOW you!"<br>And in a flash he slid from C's grasp and dashes to the edge of the<br>room to try to grab a "musical tube." [Oh, yeah this was in the music<br>room at school.] When we try to pry the thing from his fingers, he<br>starts yelling, "No! MY GUN!"<p>... yep. The 2-year- old wants a 3' long yellow tube to play guns<br>with. Got that, Santa?Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-1581522465681449742011-11-17T09:06:00.001-05:002011-11-17T10:12:34.139-05:00Forgiveness<i>(a rambling mess is better than no post at all, perhaps...)</i> <br />
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<i>"...And forgive us our tresspasses as we forgive those who tresspass against us..."</i><br />
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Those are familiar words, but, too often, a foreign concept. We live in a culture that remembers and encourages us to stoke anger and feed grudges. After all, if the wife of the politician who cheated with a lobbyist forgives her husband, there's no story to cover, no drama. And if a couple maintains an amicable relationship after a break-up or divorce, they are just asking for trouble.<br />
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But that's the world that we Christians are called to live in, but not of. Christ calls us to forgive <i>"not seven times, but seventy-seven times" (NIV, Matthew 18:22)</i>, which, of course doesn't mean 77 times at all but rather "a whole great big bunch!" And that's hard. It's hard to forgive someone who has hurt you. It's hard to forgive someone who has hurt your child. It's hard to forgive ourselves too.<br />
<br />Forgiveness, though, is one thing that God has got down pat. And it's the manifestation of the Love that IS God. If we want to be closer to Him, we have to forgive. Otherwise, anger and grudges will take up that space in our hearts instead.<br />
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My oldest son will be making his First Reconciliation early 2012. Right now he and I are working through the workbook to help teach him what that means. He's nervous. I remember being nervous too, but anxious to make my first confession. Even at 7 years old, I had stuff to get off my chest. Still, we trust that God, being Love and Truth, will recognize our remorse and grant his forgiveness every time we ask for it. I'm not sure if that's any easier to understand in our 30s than it is at age seven. <br />
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At this point, I'm old enough to know there's a lot I don't understand. I'm young enough to keep trying to grasp concepts, gossamer threads of ideas with which I try to bundle my concept of God into a tidy bundle. It never really works. Because there's always another story that challenges my beliefs and just how big God is.<br />
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Take for instance the recent child abuse scandal news stories. While all of this mess has been coming out in Penn State, there's been a mess coming out down here in SC, with a Citadel graduate accused. I never met any of the victims. But I met the guy who's now in jail. He went to school with my husband. He was the first person my husband told that he was going to marry me. That was before my husband and I were even dating. So even though I never knew the guy well, he's played a small part in my story. And it's appalling what he has confessed to. I pray for the victims of his abuse and wildly inappropriate actions. I am so sorry for this man, his wife, and his daughters too: In all of the coverage and even the news article in the SC Catholic newspaper, The Miscellany, not even the Bishop suggested we pray for him. <br />
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Therein lies the challenge of forgiveness. We are human. We are humans who live amongst humans in a world full of sin and pain and temptation and demons. I have my own temptations, my own recurring sins. I know of others who are living with demons too. This man gave into his demons, he hurt many, many children in the process. I ache for those boys, and their mothers. But I ache for his girls and his wife as well. Because this man has cooperated fully after being accused, and he has expressed remorse, I truly believe he is sorry for his actions. I cannot believe he is "all better" or will not be tempted again. I believe he needs to be punished and face the consequences of his actions. But I also believe he and his family need prayers just as much as any one of the victims. Possibly more.<br />
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Christ calls us to love our enemies. In the case of child abuse, it's easy to see who fills that role. But sometimes we are our own enemies. Sometimes we hold onto our guilt and hurts long after God has forgiven us. Sometimes, I think, we are afraid we won't know what to do or how to act if we are healed.<br />
<br />Starting over can be frightening. And exciting! That's how I feel about confession. I have a hard time getting myself to go. But afterward, I feel so much more alive! As if I was just given a brand new sketchbook of bright white pages... ok, so not everyone can relate to that, but it's a good thing... and kind of nerve-wracking. You just don't want to mess up again.<br />
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But the good news is that no matter how many mistakes I make in writing or drawing my story, I know God has the perfect eraser: His perfect and complete forgiveness.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-4604830069864529742011-06-16T13:44:00.000-04:002011-06-16T13:44:27.809-04:00Right on, Write on.Keeping a blog is one of those things. No, not those things. <b><i>Those</i></b> things. One of those things that appear unnecessary and superfluous on the surface. It "eats" time and takes energy that could and "should be spent elsewhere. Such as in writing "legitimate" pieces, be they poetry, essays, letters, or even email correspondence. But the fact is, as I often discount, keeping a regular journal -- online or otherwise -- often makes this other writing easier and more productive. <br />
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Sigh.<br />
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Still, I have a terrible time allowing myself to write a blog or a friendly letter when I know I have so much else I "should be doing." Such as paying work. But I digress. Here I am.<br />
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This past week was wonderful for planting seeds and for finding motivation to write. Last Thursday I managed to make it to the local monthly poetry workshop group. It's thanks to that group that I manage to write even one poem a month. I mean, I have to have SOMETHING to share there. So I usually write it in the 30 minutes before I have to leave. I wish it was a bi-weekly group instead. Two poems a month would mean I would probably have enough for that collection I've been working on for about 5 years now...<br />
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On Saturday, thanks to my husband and a good friend who watched my kids for a couple hours, I managed to make it to the SCWW Writers Intensive workshop/lecture. It was good, though I was only able to stick around for the first half, and I caught the speaker who was less relevant to my work. Still, the opportunity to network was wonderful, and the speaker managed to convince me I need to do some work capturing and gathering some family memories, if only for the sake of handing the stories down to the next generation. Ideally, though, I would love to write them into a Dave Eggers style novel/memoir. I even went as far as to tell my mom the plan. I'm not sure how on board she is, but I think she'll help. I hope so. She and her siblings will be essential to this.<br />
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On Sunday I had the privilege of attending a <a href="http://moonshinereview.wordpress.com/">moonShine review</a> release party. The day was HOT, but there was a pool, wine, plenty of good food, and a crowd of people who I respect very much and whose work I enjoy. Not the least of these people was the hostess of the party and chief editor of moonShine, Anne Hicks, who also edited my chapbook, <a href="http://www.artjewl.com/">Lemonade & Rumors</a>. It was wonderful to see her. And, frankly, I ate up the encouragement she doled out, prodding me to get that second collection done. She wants to edit it, which would be wonderful. Her help with the last collection made the experience such a rewarding one.<br />
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Still, since Sunday, what have I written? This. Period. <br />
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But at least I've written that much, right?Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-37067146709188106362011-01-20T14:36:00.001-05:002011-01-20T14:36:39.795-05:00SaltWe don't know what we don't know.<br><br>And sometimes, that's blissful ignorance. But our bliss may be someone else's salt in a wound.<br><br>Take for instance, all the corporate mailing lists that have me in their "She's Pregnant!" databases. (For anyone who hasn't been pregnant and experienced the JOY of an inbox and mailbox overflowing with new mommy junk mail, take my word, it's incredible. There must be some loophole in HIPAA that allows an OB to release your motherhood status as soon as that second pink line appears.)<br> <br>My second and third pregnancies ended early with my little boys each being born 5 1/2 weeks early. What that meant is that all those magazine subscriptions and freebies were a little off on their timing. No biggie. But my fourth pregnancy also ended early, on December 4, 2010, when my precious little boy was stillborn at just 20 weeks. <br> <br>BabyTalk and Similac didn't get the memo.<br><br>For the most part, I'm at peace with the loss of our tiny boy. I don't spend my days crying, and I'm not depressed. I'm strangely ok with things. When people comment about how "strong" I've been, I feel guilty, like I should be grieving more, or at least more outwardly. But all of my "emotional stability" does not mean I haven't been wounded or even that the wound has healed. It just means I'm <i>healing</i>.<br> <br>So when I got both, a BabyTalk magazine and a box of Similac samples in the mail today, it stung, like coarse kosher salt in that wound. A painful reminder that I'm more rested than I should be, more mobile, physically lighter, and without a baby sitting on my bladder. Yes, those are things I miss, in a strange way. <br> <br>I called BabyTalk to cancel. I was expecting them to ask "why," but I guess when it's a free magazine, they don't care. I <i>wanted</i> them to ask why. I wanted to tell them about my baby. I want people to know about him. I want to share him like any new mom wants to show off her precious baby. But instead, Melissa at BabyTalk was oh-so-compliant with my request and made no inquiry nor objection. She still doesn't know what she doesn't know.<br> <br>Nor does the nurse at the pediatrician's office who made a comment about my "3 boys" when I took the 18-month-old in for his check up. She was too rushed to care or listen when the 4-year-old told her he had "TWO baby brothers!" <br> <br>I almost want to wear a button that says, "Ask me about my baby!" because, though I'm mostly ok with the loss, I'm NOT ok with ignoring it. I'm not looking for attention. I'm wanting people to <i>acknowledge</i> him, that he was and is as much my child as the other three beautiful boys I've been blessed with.<br> <br>We simply don' t know what others are going through and aren't talking about, especially if we don't let them tell us. And maybe they don't need to tell us, but still, we're called to be "salt of the earth" not "salt in the wound," so let's all practice some sensitivity. <br> <br>In the meantime, it'd be nice if all the pregnancy email spam would kindly filter itself to the spam folder. Just sayin.<br> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-78628602394905625862011-01-04T09:27:00.000-05:002011-01-04T09:27:17.682-05:00Making Memories Stick<i>I'm fairly accomplished at making comments on other people's blogs that would actually qualify as posts on my own. Yet I stink at keeping my own blog up to date. Maybe I just need their posts as prompts. Anyhow, this is a Copy+Paste from a comment on another blog, but it seemed worthy of its own post. </i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs1217.snc4/156914_10150106435746264_505816263_7515723_6762266_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc4/hs1217.snc4/156914_10150106435746264_505816263_7515723_6762266_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Traditions seem to me to be a means of "making memories stick." The repetition of the action helps us "memorize" the emotions we associate with them, which in turn allows us to more easily recognize and remember the variations, "that one time when..."<br />
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With all the craziness December handed us this year, I, once again, failed to send Christmas cards. I didn't get all the decorations up. Santa didn't even remember to put sweets in our stockings. Still, I made a point to decorate cutout cookies with the boys. THAT had always been one of MY favorite Christmas traditions, so I want to be sure they will have those memories too. <br />
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Growing up we would usually get new PJs on Christmas Eve, but I had never made the Biblical association; I really like that connection! Maybe we'll adopt that tradition here. That's one of the lovely things about having a young family: the kids are still small enough that we can make our own traditions. It's hard to watch things change from those traditions one grows up with, but sometimes they have to. But as long as we keep our traditions -- whatever they may be -- as efficacious signs of the Love of the season, they'll be perfect seeds of happy memories.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-25296578186017916052010-10-23T15:40:00.000-04:002010-10-23T15:43:16.092-04:00Dear ginger's inner Cher(In response to ginger @ The Bubble Wrap Chronicles "revelations by my inner cher" -- <a href="http://thebubblewrapchronicles.blogspot.com/2010/10/revelations-by-my-inner-cher.html">http://thebubblewrapchronicles.blogspot.com/2010/10/revelations-by-my-inner-cher.html</a>)<p>This has been in my head, weighing heavily, since your fb status last night.<p>I understand your frustration. I've felt it.<p>But I still think you're missing out on something.<p>You know me well enough to know I'm coming at this from a Christian perspective. So take it for (or with) what you will, but hear me out.<p>Yes, there are hypocrites EVERYWHERE. From the check-out line to the pulpit. It's ugly. It's disappointing. It's discouraging. But does that mean that all humanity is refuse?<p>Where do you believe we, humans, came from? I truly believe we have a Creator whose fingerprints are all over us. Each and every one of us. Some of us, though have a lot of sinful grime hiding the beauty. Some even fling that grime at others. Even worse, some fling the grime in the name of piety, tolerance, and justice.<p>But there are others.<p>There are people who are so beautifully loving and giving, who seem to shine no matter what. Usually, though, those people are so humble, they go unnoticed. Just because you don't see them doesn't mean they're not there. I have had the blessing of meeting a handful of these gems. <p>But even people who aren't necessarily saints on earth can be saintly. I know nothing of the man who works at the local Earth Fare grocery store, except that for a moment, he brought joy to me and my boys the other night. The boys got kids meals but didn't ge prizes in their bags, so they went to ask if they had any left. They were out, but the grandfatherly man offered the them each a big bakery cookie instead. They eagerly accepted with my nod of approval. They thanked him, and we were on our way. Only by chance did I learn that those cookies were bought out his own pocket. Now, maybe he did it for selfish reasons, just so he would feel good. Maybe my boys reminded me of his own grandsons. Or maybe he truly was just doing something nice for a couple of strangers, just because.<p>Anyhow, like I said, I'm coming from a Christian perspective, so I'm one of those people who will tell you that there is only one Way. But you're mistaken when you say no one tells us to regard the standard we carry with integrity. That's mentioned in the same Book that says there's only one Way, the same Book that tells us that God is Love and Truth and Life all rolled into one. Find one, and you've found all three!<p>Life is a challenge. People, born with the blight of sin, can be maddening. Even Christ Himself got righteously angry over it. (Remember that bit where He flipped tables over I a fit?) Mother Teresa lived and worked for years in a deep, dark depression, struggling to see God's light and warmth. So consider yourself in good company when you, too, struggle to deal with your fellow human beings.<p>All of us are flawed. Most of us know it. And some of us really are trying to find our Way.<p>(PS -- For the record, I agree with your conclusion. That has been a major gripe of mine, specifically within the Catholic Church. If you don't agree with Catholic teaching, by all means, convert to something else!)
<br>Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone with SprintSpeedJuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-19203938155028105212010-10-16T23:28:00.001-04:002010-10-16T23:28:43.514-04:00Cinandy!Mmmm...
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<br>As I type this, I am consuming some of the most delicious popcorn to pass my lips! In fact, I have deemed it "cinandy"*: cinnamon + dandy. (* Also the name of one of my husband's WoW characters. I didn't make up the word, I just applied it.) Anyhow, this fabulous concoction began with plain popping corn microwave-popped in a brown paper lunch bag. The fluffy popcorn was then drizzled with REAL melted butter and seasoned lightly with sea salt and generously with cinnamon-sugar.
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<br>I WILL munch this treat again!
<br>Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone with SprintSpeedJuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-4100426243279970012010-07-05T11:45:00.002-04:002010-07-05T11:49:53.691-04:00Summer Burgers, Reconsidered<div class="mobile-photo"><br />
</div>I love a good burger, really, I do. But it's so easy for them to be -- pardon the pun -- overdone in the summertime. My husband loves to grill, and I aim to let him, especially since that means <i>I</i> don't have to cook. Unfortunately, that often leaves us with leftovers, because, well, he <i>really</i> likes to make burgers and gets overly ambitious at times.<br />
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Enter the "Reconsidered Burger."<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuNf0fRXPRMsnIro0dcvmsQiiZDf4dl5HFUJx81XS_YY0fS50vJuvLUxL4jU-w_-IrJwOqGSXSAAMCgtYW8byDuDKM5kU5Yai8ZCzHEKSgwxCo1HdSYz6RMuC6QkdxWIzmfa7O-C7Yck4/s1600/burger+reconsidered.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuNf0fRXPRMsnIro0dcvmsQiiZDf4dl5HFUJx81XS_YY0fS50vJuvLUxL4jU-w_-IrJwOqGSXSAAMCgtYW8byDuDKM5kU5Yai8ZCzHEKSgwxCo1HdSYz6RMuC6QkdxWIzmfa7O-C7Yck4/s320/burger+reconsidered.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
This burger pictured is one of his delicious creations that has endured the lapping flames of a charcoal grill and the chill of a refrigerator just to be nuked for lunch. For all its trouble, I decided to give it good company.<br />
<br />
In this life, the little slider-sized beef patty is on an open-faced sandwich topped with zucchini and tomatoes (both diced roma and whole grape) sauteed in olive oil, Italian seasoning, a little Balsamic vinegar, and minced onions.<br />
<br />
The slightly seasoned burger (fresh minced onion, worchestershire sauce, and I'm not sure what else) helped make this light summer vegetable medley into a meal that will stick with me until the inevitably late summer supper.<br />
<br />
...<br />
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Not your style? Check out the other burger ideas at June's Dish feature at <a href="http://whatwouldgingerdo.blogspot.com/">http://whatwouldgingerdo.blogspot.com</a> :)Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-61202663781473644632010-05-19T12:14:00.002-04:002010-05-19T12:17:38.676-04:00Getting Psyched Up to Wear a T-ShirtThis Saturday I will be participating in the third annual <a href="http://www.charlottefemmefest.org/">Charlotte FemmeFest</a>. Last year, 6 months pregnant, I also had the opportunity to share my writing at the festival, which celebrates women in the arts and benefits women in the community, including the "Center for Hope" homeless shelter for women and children.<br />
<br />
Choosing what to read at public events is always a kind of game for me: I want to engage my audience, and every audience is slightly different. But more and more, I also want to challenge them. However, I am, by nature, a non-confrontational type of person. I mean, really, I get nauseated at the thought of a face-to-face debate. I feel ill equipped to write (or deliver) anything with a controversial or political charge. So what's a self-proclaimed pro-life feminist to do?<br />
<br />
After mulling it over for the past couple days, I'm pretty sure I'm going to make myself a Feminists For Life inspired t-shirt:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGwTZCe4VO8Bny0jB2eq8zzIqZqUJvMICgnUEz3WYi6cZtH-ghLSf1cTYkyq9189vk_nja5y499vmt0u4UDdK1LwWmZ1dcnB70ui9B2k80JymtFgYBlUToOxD19sjlx0TcKIAOg25cCDg/s1600/SBA-tshirt1-sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGwTZCe4VO8Bny0jB2eq8zzIqZqUJvMICgnUEz3WYi6cZtH-ghLSf1cTYkyq9189vk_nja5y499vmt0u4UDdK1LwWmZ1dcnB70ui9B2k80JymtFgYBlUToOxD19sjlx0TcKIAOg25cCDg/s320/SBA-tshirt1-sm.jpg" /></a></div>Why wear an FFL shirt and not just a regular pro-life shirt if that's the message I want to promote. Simple, it's a festival that celebrates feminism. And I'm sure there will be plenty of women there who feel as conflicted as I had before discovering FFL. I have always been pro-life, but I also identified with feminist philosophy -- at least the "old school" variety. What Susan B. Anthony and the other founders of the feminist movement started with fighting for women to have the right to vote was more about giving a voice to the voiceless and empowering the defenseless than anything else.<br />
<br />
Anyhow, like I said, I'm the non-confrontational type, and I'm not sure how I'll be received in my "anti-choice fanatic" garb. So I was still undecided until I read <a href="http://bryankemper.com/2010/05/19/my-response-to-this-story-i-convinced-my-wife-to-get-an-abortion-now-she-is-crying-i-have-included-a-link-so-you-can-respond-to-him">this blog post by Bryan Kemper</a>. If abortion is so "OK," why would a man have to pressure his wife to get one? If "mainstream feminism" with all the "it's just a blob of tissue" rhetoric is so "good for women," why would a woman who has had an abortion be in such heart-wrenching pain?<br />
<br />
And that is only one story told among the thousands daily in this country alone. But for that one woman and her alone, I'm ready to make a t-shirt and wear it too.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Oh, what am I reading? I'll figure that out later. But I can bet it will include something of the joys of motherhood!<br />
<br />
Peace,<br />
<br />
Julie</div></div>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-5849910042385393872010-04-03T16:34:00.000-04:002012-07-23T20:41:15.745-04:00Seriously, Graco?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Almost a month ago <a href="http://baby411.typepad.com/babybargains/2010/03/recall-graco-recalls-harmony-high-chairs-due-to-fall-hazard-.html">Graco had a highchair recall</a>. This is just another in a long list of recent baby recalls, one of the more recent ones being a baby sling recall. (I'm not even going to link to the sling recall because I feel that one is dumb. I hate that children died while the product was being used, but I feel the real issue is parental negligence, not necessarily a bad product. But I digress.)<br />
<br />
Anyhow, back to the highchair recall, this one actually affected us. The high chair we've used for all three children, the one currently covered in noodles and diced strawberries, is one of the recalled chairs. While I was checking the serial number on the chair to see if it was part of the recall, I noticed that the screws on the front legs were half way out -- which is one of the main reasons why the recall was instated in the first place. I tightened the screws and went on to the website to tell Graco we needed a fix kit. Of course, on their recall notice it states that we must <b>"DISCONTINUE USE IMMEDIATELY!" </b>Note the bold caps.<br />
<br />
We didn't. We continued to use the chair -- horrible parents that we are -- as we waited for the repair kit to arrive. Really, what did they want us to do? Go out and buy a replacement highchair while we waited for them to send us a fix for this one? Or better yet, strap the wiggly baby into a kitchen chair? Come on. We figured the safer bet would be to keep an eye on the chair to be sure the screws stayed secure and the leg braces weren't cracking. The more difficult task was to keep the older two from hanging on it while playing peek-a-boo with the baby.<br />
<br />
Well, the repair kit came today. It's half what I expected. Sure enough, there are bigger, better, tighter screws. No surprise there. But the "What the heck?" moment came when I unfolded the fabric legbrace. That's right, folks, a fabric square with buckles at the corners that's intended to brace the legs. Umm. Ok. In the little installation manual that comes with it is this great big note:<br />
<blockquote>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">WARNING:</span></b><br />
<b>NEVER</b> use highchair without the legbrace installed. Using highchair without leg brace [sic] can result in the highchair collapsing and injury to your child.</blockquote>
<br />
So, what you're saying here, Mr. Graco is that this little nylon scrap of a crumb collector is going to prevent injury? Huh. Have you ever met a 3-year-old? No? Huh. Let me brief you:<br />
<br />
A 3-year-old boy -- at least the one I currently know most intimately -- will see that scrap of nylon as something to stand on and/or sit on. He will, of course, get no support; his bodyweight will pull that little square to the floor. But his magnetic attraction to that spot under the chair will eventually cause strain on the stupid little buckled corners. The question is whether the seams will give way first, or will the buckles break? I know, this product is for a baby or toddler, not a 3-yr-old to use as a jungle gym, but, Graco, you have to assume families may actually have more than one child.<br />
<br />
<br />
(Throughout the instructions, they alternate between referring to this as a "legbrace" and a "leg brace"; I guess this was a quick fix, so I won't be too hard on that. But still, it's an inconsistency.)<br />
<br />
A note a few pages later states:<br />
<blockquote>
To clean fabric leg brace [sic], wipe clean with damp cloth. DO NOT machine wash or dry. DO NOT BLEACH.</blockquote>
And this is what made me laugh. See, if I was a first-time mom, I probably would have read that, nodded, and thought, "oh, ok."<br />
<br />
<i><b>But I'm not a first time mom!</b></i><br />
<br />
So I read that and thought, "You're kidding, right?" <i><b>Anything</b></i> that sits under a highchair for any length of time will at some point become so disgusting that it will rival the nastiest of diapers. We're not there yet with this one, but I know the time is coming. And just because it's directly under the seat of the chair doesn't mean it will be sheltered from the mashed peas, yogurt, tomato sauce, squash, spilled milk, squashed oxidizing bananas applesauce, mushed cheese -- you name it-- that fall from above. Rather, when the child sits on it and it squeezes, somehow, through the holes in the seat it will fall directly on the pretty little legbrace. Sure, most can be cleaned off well enough with a damp cloth if attended to immediately. But clean-up is often NOT the chore that gets attended to "immediately" when a baby is around. Rather, clean-up happens once the kid is finally napping, after he's had a diaper change, a bath, is dressed in his pj's and nursed to sleep.<br />
<br />
I'm irritated. I'm irked. I'm pissed off that yet another stupid little chore has been added to my to-do list, all in the name of "safety." Still, I guess I'll install the damned legbrace/leg brace. At least until I have more than speculation to refer to when writing my pissed-off letter to Graco.<br />
<br />
Now to clean up those noodles and diced strawberries and to install the crumbcatcher.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-29527438281338976592010-03-10T19:51:00.000-05:002010-03-10T19:50:58.501-05:00Cancer sucksAnd that's all I have to say about that.
<br>Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone with SprintSpeedJuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-83001701631920273902010-01-12T11:33:00.000-05:002010-01-12T11:36:55.898-05:00Feeling Colors<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8yrN0dlrhsLUmJGJ10BTwY293aKllX6tAcmQCjoSbPtfBj_BJ_uuajvHmwzAownCHGtUtQRDnFQs-5RtuBuuUABGFB-esH3PU_pNSJAmw8bxBX9AP3W6P7X7_47OY3GF281uU7aRcTww/s1600-h/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAxMTIuanBn%3F=-715899"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8yrN0dlrhsLUmJGJ10BTwY293aKllX6tAcmQCjoSbPtfBj_BJ_uuajvHmwzAownCHGtUtQRDnFQs-5RtuBuuUABGFB-esH3PU_pNSJAmw8bxBX9AP3W6P7X7_47OY3GF281uU7aRcTww/s320/=%3Futf-8%3FB%3FSU1HMDAxMTIuanBn%3F=-715899" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425893239697164578" /></a></p>This, folks, is my right knee. Colorful, huh? I don't think it's been so bruised since I last went ice skating, probably about a decade ago. My lack of grace and unhealthy dose of clumsiness is why I don't ice skate and why my knee looks like a stormy watercolor.
<br>
<br>What did I do? I fell down two steps two days ago. My shin doesn't look much better, and I think I sprained my left ankle. Sad, huh? At least it's winter and I won't be wanting to sport shorts anytime soon.
<br>Sent from my BlackBerry® smartphone with SprintSpeedJuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-8974724785475496232010-01-10T22:27:00.001-05:002010-01-10T22:27:24.272-05:00A Hairy SituationBack in 8th grade health class, I remember one day when the class was split, guys & girls. In the midst of awkward sex ed discussions, I remember being told to make a list of qualities & attributes we would seek in a potential spouse. We were encouraged to put both character and physical traits. Even then I had "clean shaven" on my list of preferences. No big surprise then that 5 years later I fell for a knob from the Citadel. <br> <br>For those not in the know, Citadel freshmen (aka "knobs") get to sport a bald head their first year. That's not what I had in mind by "clean shaven." But that also means that there wasn't a hair on his chinny chin chin.<br> <br>Fast forward a decade. And I find myself quite uncomfortably married to the Mountain Man of the South. Ugh. I don't know why exactly my dear husband has decided to sport this hairy look. Truly, though, as far as looks go, he can pull it off. But that's as far as I can go. I <i>hate</i> the feel of it. <br> <br>I have not hinted. I have not worried about his feelings on the matter. This has been one situation where I have <i>not</i> been subtle: I have told him outright, "I do <i>not</i> like the beard. <i>Please</i> shave it off."<br> <br>Instead, he came home tonight with a beard trimmer. UGH. He's serious. He keeps telling me, "It'll get softer. I've read about it." I told him I don't care. I don't like it. I can't kiss him, not more than a peck. It feels icky to me. I could handle his occasional goatee, but not this.<br> <br>So what's a girl to do? Any suggestions.<br> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-62338795747644156492010-01-04T10:39:00.001-05:002010-01-04T10:39:18.290-05:00Return to BloglandiaTwo years ago, I <a href="http://artjewl.blogspot.com/2007/12/resolve-more-than-carpet-cleaner.html">resolved</a> to post to this blog weekly for that year. I almost made it. Even though I fell short, I was pretty proud of the effort. It was the best I had done with keeping a journal of any sort since college. <br> <br>During that time I did a pretty good job of keeping up with my <a href="http://www.artjewl.com">writing</a> too. I don't think the two results are mutually exclusive.<br><br>So the plan is to do it again. It seems daunting considering how lax I've been this past year. Granted, much of that has been due to adding a third little boy to our brood, and possibly even as much can be blamed on the simplicity of venting my thoughts through Facebook status updates from my phone. Regardless, I think it will be good for me to make it part of my regular routine once again. <br> <br>That said, I have changed since I made that resolution at the dawn of 2008. Back, oh, about 10 years ago, I think, my sister gave me this awesome slinky, sparkly graffiti print top for Christmas. I thought it was awesome then, and I still think it's awesome. But I haven't worn it in probably 6 years. Well, maybe <a href="http://artjewl.blogspot.com/2008/01/difference-between-thursday-saturday.html">once under a jacket</a>. I still <i>could</i>. It still fits. But I have changed. The shirt still hangs in my closet for all seasons. I probably should give it away by now, but it's got too much history & too many memories tied to it. And maybe I'll get to enjoy wearing it again sometime. <br> <br>Likewise, I have grown out of certain blogs I used to follow. I mean, they still fit me sometimes, I like to look at them, but they're not "my style" anymore. I'm debating if I should take them off of my reading list entirely, delete the bookmarks, etc. I don't feel ready for that because of all the good stuff I once read there. But now, the blogs ride me the wrong way, creeping into uncomfortable positions, not unlike that top being awkwardly stretched across my breastfeeding boobs.<br> <br>I wish I could email subscribe to the things so I could just hit delete if I wasn't in the mood. Oh well.<br> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-47632122689982974652009-08-23T16:22:00.002-04:002009-08-23T16:26:47.307-04:00Moving On.This is the first time I've done this, and I hope to not have to do it again really, but for the sake of my sanity, I have un-friended someone on Facebook. I mean, I've done that before with a couple people I didn't actually know, people who were part of organizations I was also involved in. But this time, it was someone I actually knew, someone I considered a friend at one point. But that was before facebook. Since friending this person, I have had no positive interaction from them. And you know what, I don't need that kind of constantly argumentative vibe. I'm too good -- and tired -- for that silliness.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-43939735036119281282009-08-20T16:43:00.002-04:002009-08-20T16:51:14.082-04:00Broken Thought Process Thursday: On being a mom, seeing Mraz, and feeling like a sleepy cow<i>Thought I'd jump on the bandwagon with <a href="http://chuckastone.blogspot.com/">Jenn</a>, <a href="http://whatelsewouldgingerdo.blogspot.com/">Ginger</a>, <a href="http://bythemorningslight.blogspot.com/">Bree</a>, & whomever else that's a sucker for trend...</i><br />
<br />
I've been away from writing for too long. I have a dozen or so poems rattling around in my head, but I don't know where to start. They're tangled like last year's strands of Christmas lights. And somewhere, a bulb is out. Or more. Probably more.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjee85zbfRm1sMPI8oNqm5Ly-52LcQOy1HxOOH6LDiKPumZUZBDETNYA3z4biMG0qV4uKcVHaaWWyLzIT2sCfjqF1f8B_wdogzq6WxOs7h2A2_FxNFwcwvkCAxexyK5DHuuyeBkoZR6rh0/s1600-h/CIMG0015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjee85zbfRm1sMPI8oNqm5Ly-52LcQOy1HxOOH6LDiKPumZUZBDETNYA3z4biMG0qV4uKcVHaaWWyLzIT2sCfjqF1f8B_wdogzq6WxOs7h2A2_FxNFwcwvkCAxexyK5DHuuyeBkoZR6rh0/s320/CIMG0015.jpg" /></a></div>Life as a mom of 3 boys is off to a good start. For those who haven't heard through other channels, I gave birth to our third little boy over a month ago. He was 5 1/2 weeks early and had to hang out at the hospital for a couple weeks, but really, overall, everything went well. And even given the fact that it was a preterm delivery, I have to say that it was the best labor experience I've had. Though there was some concern because he was early, I was not overcome by it like I was when our second made a surprise arrival (also at 34 1/2 weeks). We knew what to expect: he'd be swept away quickly because his lungs would likely be underdeveloped, he'd likely be jaundiced, he would be slow to learn to nurse, and he'd stay at the hospital for about two weeks. All were true in this case as they had been with our #2.<br />
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With the birth of a baby comes the hormonal roller coaster (just ask my husband, sister & mom). Call it "Baby Blues" if you want, but really, that sounds cuter than it is. Sometimes it hits like a blow to the gut and knocks the wind out of a girl. It's as overwhelming as the factors it exaggerates. Does that make any sense? Let me try again: the physical reaction a "Blues Flash" can cause is as stressful in itself as are the stressful factors (from maintaining a household to reworking career plans to finances) that can trigger the "episode" itself.<br />
<br />
I feel like my hours and energy are constantly being sucked away from me. The only time I feel like I have time is when I'm at work. That's right, my baby is under 6 weeks old and I've been back to work for 2 weeks now. Granted it's part-time, but still. But I knew that going into this. It's a small company (that isn't ruled by FMLA) and they don't offer short term disability or maternity leave. I'm not holding that against them -- I like the company, the people I work with, and the job I do -- but when I've been there these past 2 weeks, I SO don't want to be there. Time <i>drags</i>. I can't help but think of the gazillion things I have to do here at home.<br />
<br />
Since our little angel was born, it's been busy here. The first 2 weeks involved visiting the hospital multiple times a day. The good thing is that we're less than 10 minutes from the hospital. The bad thing is that being so close, a parent feels like s/he should commit to being there at every chance. That's unreasonable. Especially when there are 2 other kids at home who aren't allowed into the NICU. So it was good to get the little guy home. Of course, while he was at the hospital, we were guaranteed uninterrupted sleep at night! <br />
<br />
Still, sleep hasn't been so bad. Right around 5 weeks the little man started (sporadically) sleeping through the night. That coincided with him rolling over. That's right, folks. This 1-month-old preemie has rolled over! Granted it was from belly to back (easier than the other) and in a fit of frustration, but he did it. He constantly scoots around if he's on his tummy. We've got to watch out for this one! He's determined to catch up to his big brothers!<br />
<br />
Even with all the craziness that comes with a new baby, I managed to go to see Jason Mraz at the end of July. That was funny. So, the show was scheduled for an outdoor venue in Charlotte. The short of it is, it POURED. I'm talking, this storm was the lovechild of a Katrina & Hugo. Or not quite, but that's how it seemed. The tickets stated "rain or shine" no one wanted to leave even though the weather was miserable.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWvxcL8XHwA4X7PUtZD4m6sUKhj4ozcbgJLIJsWwEM_Ao8ugCHUb64YscSYdMwzkc3Uf8yzBZn8aSnLfR9C5w5Df8O0hl-XMKicR-z8PaGoXYJh1NYjZsf8i47wlkICPOEYMCuD7jz7wg/s1600-h/IMG00202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWvxcL8XHwA4X7PUtZD4m6sUKhj4ozcbgJLIJsWwEM_Ao8ugCHUb64YscSYdMwzkc3Uf8yzBZn8aSnLfR9C5w5Df8O0hl-XMKicR-z8PaGoXYJh1NYjZsf8i47wlkICPOEYMCuD7jz7wg/s320/IMG00202.jpg" /></a></div><br />
But about 2 hours after the show was to have started, they officially gave up on the original plans. And lucky for us -- all the soaking wet concert goers -- because the storm knocked out the soundstage system, they offered a do-over. Not rainchecks, mind you, because they wouldn't refund on behalf of the rain. We were given the option that night to (A) Leave & get a refund, (B) stick around and TRY to get into the limited audience show in the indoor venue they moved to (try fitting something like 8K into 1.5K space), or (C) use your ticket at a rescheduled show at a later date at the original outdoor venue. Because I was there alone (another story), and I couldn't be sure if I'd be able to swing the "later date", and I sure wasn't going to give up on seeing Mraz, I stuck around.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IXbjguYXKl-VvM_ijohkIxbun18-KPAOsg5PRb2TdE_82YTdFxssaYBQt_YmPFyqns38eiwiu2c1sngvCBxJWN4tOV59SVLS-j572vtf-JfO1zGUK5C3RKz6bbOuSrU-NQhVMJA-h8I/s1600-h/IMG00211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IXbjguYXKl-VvM_ijohkIxbun18-KPAOsg5PRb2TdE_82YTdFxssaYBQt_YmPFyqns38eiwiu2c1sngvCBxJWN4tOV59SVLS-j572vtf-JfO1zGUK5C3RKz6bbOuSrU-NQhVMJA-h8I/s320/IMG00211.jpg" /></a></div><br />
The show was great, but by the time it was over after 1 am, my feet were really killing me (as were my engorged boobs). But I was glad I stayed. I was even more happy with my decision when musictoday decided to invite those of us who went to the soaking wet show back to the rescheduled show! So my ticket has turned out to be a 2 for 1 afterall! And I didn't even have to have a baby at the show! ;)<br />
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I've been trying to nurse (see previously mentioned engorged boobs). Well, no, I've been nursing, but the little guy is an inefficient participant. He likes the snuggling aspect of it, but he doesn't eat enough that way. He prefers the "big gulp" of a bottle. So I've been expressing milk. I feel like a cow. Moo. I've had to ask a friend to loan me some freezer space for the excess milk. <br />
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Ok, TMI alert. Now I know this one is weird, and some might be grossed out by this: on occasion I've instinctively licked a stray drop or two of my milk off of my hand. This has led me to a surprise realization: my milk tastes a lot like Silk original flavor soy milk. Ok. Like I said, TMI, I'm sure, but it's not like I'm asking anyone to do a taste test. Note, the consistencies are way different.<br />
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Also note, not that I've tried or ever wanted to, but apparently <a href="http://www.indrani.net/index.php?q=2006/03/breast_milk_cheese">it's not possible to make cheese out of breastmilk</a>. Just sayin.<br />
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Considering that I really should accomplish something before the boys wake from their naps, I'm wrapping this up now before my lack of filter loses me another reader.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJwpfdpXHd2I0vaTuRnaYrOUbP7MaGktewQmRVAHHf3BziDX9bl-XL8bvMirSoi7_wnZo1uokN4NIV1BKAR329B83n-69ZXbKH_aFMk_k6oyHF7ZY_ssM5ZkB-TL4uTKUlxtXfJ0ECWxE/s1600-h/IMG00165.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJwpfdpXHd2I0vaTuRnaYrOUbP7MaGktewQmRVAHHf3BziDX9bl-XL8bvMirSoi7_wnZo1uokN4NIV1BKAR329B83n-69ZXbKH_aFMk_k6oyHF7ZY_ssM5ZkB-TL4uTKUlxtXfJ0ECWxE/s320/IMG00165.jpg" /></a></div>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-34627019804734171962009-07-14T00:01:00.031-04:002012-07-23T20:53:17.986-04:00MckLinky Blog Hop for July 14, 2009 - 3 Things You Didn't Know About MeThree things you (probably) didn't know about me:<br />
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One:<br />
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I'm a DAR. I just learned (or maybe I just finally paid attention and heard) this 4th of July that I'm a Daughter of the American Revolution. I don't have the paperwork to prove it, and I need to talk with my dad and grandpap to figure out the relationship, but my great great great ... great great someone-or-other and his brother fought in the Revolutionary War. Kinda crazy, huh?<br />
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Two:<br />
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I am closer in age to my MOTHER than to my youngest sibling.<br />
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Three:<br />
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For as terrible as I am about sending birthday cards, anytime I see someone's "birthdate time" on a digital clock, I say a little prayer for that person.<br />
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</script>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-36917558691861919002009-07-06T11:29:00.001-04:002009-07-06T11:29:34.081-04:00Day Late -- Still Okay.<div class="gmail_quote">So, we were planning on taking the boys (5 & almost 3) to see fireworks in our little downtown. Like the metro area's big show, it's called "Red, White & Boom", and the plan was, depending on how my nearly 8-month-pregnant self was feeling and how the boys were behaving during the day, we'd go see fireworks that night after my husband got back from work. Well, the boys were ok, and I felt I could do it, so we packed them up and drove downtown. But it was eerily quiet and empty. Finally, after driving around for 15 minutes or so, we stopped at the police station right there and Jonathan asked about the fireworks. <br> <br>They had been on the 3rd.<br><br>I felt awful, especially since the boys were so excited... and I've been an erratic emotional mess. Thank goodness for the random people shooting fireworks from their back yards and empty parking lots. We managed to find a great span of sidewalk in an empty parking lot where we sat on the curb to watch our own private show. The boys were thrilled and didn't know any better. <br> <br>In the end, I felt like the time we spent in that quiet parking lot was a whole lot closer to what those "Rebels" fought for 233 years ago, a lot closer than the hype and headache, alcohol, and excess that so much of 4th of July celebrations have become.<br> <br>But that's not quite the end of the story. This morning, I called in to the local radio station to relay my story for their "4th in 4 words" segment. My 4 words were: Day late -- still okay. It won me a nice dinner out for 2 and a cd. :) Of course, we still need to cover a sitter...<br> <br>Hope your Independence Day weekend was a good one.<br><br>Peace,<br><font color="#888888">Julie<br> </font></div><br> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-58050348857164998332009-05-08T22:21:00.000-04:002009-05-08T22:22:00.757-04:00A two-for-one ticketThere are few things that make me giddy to the point of idiocy. The going to a Jason Mraz concert, for instance. The mere thought of being able to go to such a concert is another.<br><br>Yeah, so maybe I'm trying to relive that part of my teenybopper years I missed out on. Maybe I'm just weird...<br> <br>Regardless, I'm <i>psyched</i> that he'll be stopping in Charlotte on this summer's tour! I have been itching to go to another concert since I walked out of the auditorium when he stopped here last April. <br> <br>Only thing is, he'll be in Charlotte just 3 weeks before I'm due. Which means if I haven't already had the kiddo, the excitement could spur me into labor...<br><br>But that could mean two of us could get into the show on one ticket. ;)<br> <br>Guess I probably shouldn't plan on going to this show solo like I did the last one.<br><br>July 28th!!!!!! <insert cheesy annoying squeal here /><br> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-64113308654763648112009-04-24T11:48:00.001-04:002009-04-24T11:48:20.209-04:00"Life is not measured by the breaths we take..."<b style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);">"...but by the moments that take our breath away."<br><i>-- Author Unknown</i></b><br><br>How many breathless moments have you had lately?<br><br>How many breathless moments have you been able to give?<br> <br><div style="text-align: center;">* * * * *<br><div style="text-align: left;">My life, as of late, has been consuming. Blessed & busy. As is the world of a parent, I guess.<br><br>In less than two weeks, our oldest will turn five. <i>FIVE</i>. I still distinctly remember a moment while I was nursing him in the days right after he was born when my mother pointed out, "it won't be long before he'll stretch beyond the boppy pillow." He fit so neatly across my lap then. This week he got a shiny new Lightning McQueen bike as an advance birthday gift from his great-grandparents... He's convinced he can't move fast enough. Out of breath from chasing him down the street, I'm thinking he's going too fast, he's growing too fast. No doubt we'll be shopping for his first car and colleges before we know it.<br> <br>Meanwhile, sometimes time can't pass fast enough. Take, for instance, the time it takes to potty train a child. Diapers are a pain in the butt, expensive, and icky. Yes, there is a bonding factor when the child is still a baby, but somewhere after 18 months, enough is enough. The parent is ready for the child to "go potty" whether they're ready or not. But the process can't be rushed. Trust me, we've tried. It is a lesson in patience, psychology, and genuine joy for the sake of a turd in the toilet. Seriously. I have not been happier (in the past 2 years) to hear the tinkle and movements of bathroom music. Gross, huh? But anyone who's actively potty trained a toddler gets it. And in that way, our Second has stolen my breath -- by cheers and praises and promises of Buzz Lightyear underpants instead stinky diapers.<br> <br>Then there's the Third. This little boy, oh boy -- That's right, our third child is <i>another </i>boy! the thought has stolen my breath a few times. That ultrasound image of our little exhibitionist, and every tickle since, has made my heart flutter. This is the first child we decided to find out the sex beforehand. We wanted to be surprised the first two times. It is definitely a different dynamic knowing -- not better or worse, just different. I liked having the surprise with our first two children, but I'm glad we found out since I felt so sure this child was a girl. It's nice to be able to mentally prepare and focus on just picking one name. Anyhow, this little guy has a way of kicking, punching, tickling me just right that he leaves me breathless, literally. Sometimes it's exhausting, but I keep remembering the empty feeling that follows in the days and weeks after giving birth: though a mother has her new child to hold, the constant presence is gone, and it's a foreign feeling. I fully understand where post-partum depression comes from. And so I cherish even the fatique.<br> <br>Finally, there is my first "baby", the biggest kid in our household, my totally wonderful and awesome husband. Just one month shy of celebrating our 6-year anniversary, I am constantly reminded of how blessed I am to have this man as the father of my children. He is such a good daddy: firm when necessary, but loving and fun. The boys adore him (though I think they'd still qualify as "momma's boys"), and rightly so. And of course it's no mystery how we've ended up with three children... He still can leave me breathless.<br> <br>(Is this an appropriate time to mention the fact that my poem "The Religion of Sex" was accepted for this year's issue of <a href="http://www.kakalak.net">KaKaLaK</a>?)<br><br>So tell me, who or what has given you breathless moments lately?<br> </div></div><br> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-67859986595036577302009-02-25T23:35:00.001-05:002009-02-25T23:35:14.839-05:00My State of the Blog AddressAs a 2008 New Year's resolution, I decided to keep this blog regularly. The intent was to post once a week at a minimum. For the most part, up until the end of 2008, I did well enough. But lately, I've done a foul job. The biggest reason for that: I'm pregnant and have been "allergic" to using the computer outside of work hours. Though I haven't been morning sick, I've been dealing with "evening sickness" instead coupled with exhaustion. Both have deterred me from blogging. (However, Facebook has seen more of me -- that's easy enough to do from the couch with my phone.) Anyhow, now that I'm in the supposed "honeymoon" trimester (the second), I'm generally feeling better and more awake in the evenings. Maybe you'll see more of me here again.<br> <br>Or not.<br><br>Over the course of the past year, I watched two of my "blog buddies," <a href="http://green-reviewer.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Jenn</a> and <a href="http://whatwouldgingerdo.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Ginger</a>, refine the direction of their blogging. Both have taken subjects they are passionate and chosen to focus their writing on them: the <a href="http://green-reviewer.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">environment</a> and <a href="http://whatwouldgingerdo.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">vegan living</a>, respectively. <br> <br>I can see how both have come to that point, since I have been feeling the same kind of pull. Whether it has been because of blogging, the comments or just the political & cultural climate in general, I have come to realize just how strongly I feel about my pro-life beliefs. I've shared a little of that here, but mostly I've just "threatened" to post about it. I don't know specifically why I haven't just done it. Mostly I've just been treating it like a whole gargantuan dissertation of a post, so I've been wanting to have every little duck in line before posting any of it. Regardless, the fact is, my tendency toward perfectionism is stalling me again. But that hasn't changed how I've realized I need to act on this issue and DO something about the problem of abortion.<br> <br>So I've joined an international movement you won't likely hear about on the evening news, and I will be participating in the spring campaign of <a href="http://www.40daysforlife.com/" target="_blank">40 Days for Life</a>. <a href="http://www.40daysforlife.com/" target="_blank">40 Days for Life</a> is a prayer and fast vigil with the goal of ending abortion. During the last campaign, over a thousand babies were saved from death, and as many mothers were saved from the emotionally (and often physically) devastating pains of having ended a pregnancy by choice. I am looking forward to the challenge and blessing of participating in this campaign.<br> <br>To help me maintain my focus on the 40 Days for Life campaign, I have decided to blog daily about it and/or about other pro-life relevant topics. The posts may be short, since I expect to be posting many from my phone. But I will be posting daily, with the exception, perhaps, of Sundays: this will double as a Lenten sacrifice for me.<br> <br>I expect to keep the pro-life posting trend going even after the campaign closes and celebrating Easter. And while I don't believe in separating one's "spiritual self" from her "secular self", I think it will be appropriate for me to keep the majority of those posts grouped on a blog of their own. <br> <br>So, "<a href="http://aroseforlife.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">AROSE for Life</a>" is my newest writing endeavor. I hope to see you guys there, even (actually, especially) if you consider yourself more pro-choice. I welcome civil discussion.<br> <br>But even if you decide not to follow the new blog, I hope you'll stick around these parts: I'll continue to sporadically post here about the REST of my life, including, I expect, baby updates!<br><br>Peace,<br> Julie<br><br><br> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-20214671848226617042009-01-22T17:00:00.001-05:002009-01-22T17:00:51.188-05:00Morning of the March<h1><span>Morning of the March</span></h1> Today I wear red, a pin, and a medal. I am<br> shrouded in mourning, clinging to prayer<br> as my siblings and peers gather<br> on Madison Drive, prepare<br> to march forward, bound<br> by sweaters, scarves,<br> -- <i>faithhopelove </i>--<br> sustained<br> by the greatest of these<br> for the least among us:<br> unexpected child,<br> unprepared mother.<br> <br> Today I wear prodigal hope<br> as a birthright, not<br> political entitlement. Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5284886541417961334.post-43746979138751636732009-01-07T21:42:00.001-05:002009-01-07T21:42:09.718-05:00Death of a reSalesman?<div>Hi, all. I've been lurking, but as I'm guessing you've noticed, I haven't been able to blog lately. Personal stuff has kept me away, but now's not the time for that.</div> <div> </div> <div>Anyhow, I wanted to blog about this, but I have to be brief. (I have "work work" to do tonight. Yuck.) </div> <div> </div> <div>So the deal is, after Feb 10, 2009, reselling kids' toys, clothes, or virtually anything used by any child under 12, will be ILLEGAL. Unless, of course you can afford third party testing of you yardsale goods.</div> <div> </div> <div>My sister brought it to my attention, and to be honest, I thought for sure this was bogus or blown out of proportion or something. I mean, we would have known about this, right? Wouldn't there be parens up in arms about this? Wouldn't the "green movement" have spoken up about this or something? Can you imagine the waste?! Also, it could severely affect people who make hand-made childrens items. (So much for supporting independent business owners on by buying kids' stuff off of etsy or ebay.) While the initial intent of the law made sense, the implementation is ill-conceived and too broadly written.</div> <div> </div> <div>So, here are a couple links with details:</div> <div> </div> <div><a href="http://www.snopes.com/info/inthenews.asp">http://www.snopes.com/info/inthenews.asp</a></div> <div><a href="http://www.latimes.com/business/la-fi-thrift2-2009jan02,0,2083247.story">http://www.latimes.com/business/la-fi-thrift2-2009jan02,0,2083247.story</a></div> <div><a href="http://www.fashion-incubator.com/archive/national-bankruptcy-day/">http://www.fashion-incubator.com/archive/national-bankruptcy-day/</a></div> <div><a href="http://online.wsj.com/article/SB122696993087535701.html">http://online.wsj.com/article/SB122696993087535701.html</a></div> <div><a href="http://aliceanjo.blogspot.com/2008/12/handmade-toy-legislation.html">http://aliceanjo.blogspot.com/2008/12/handmade-toy-legislation.html</a></div> <div> </div> <div>Of course, I may have missed something, (ie, I can't find the law let alone where it says/implies doom for consignment shops, yard sales, and other resellers of used goodies such as Blockbuster, GameStop, etc.), so if any of those more fluent in legalese have any further details to offer for clarification, please do.</div> <div> </div> <div> </div> <div> </div> <div> </div> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16529978701623558767noreply@blogger.com6