Last night I was bemoaning my lack of observational skills while watching Alias at the Cutlers’ house. Several times during the show I’d ask questions to clarify confusing plot issues or tangly dialogue. On a commercial break, while getting snacks from the kitchen, Jeremy was surprised that Julie knew exactly what glass he wanted to use (when you don’t have hands, it makes a difference what type of drinking vessel you use!). Truly, I could’ve had someone over to my house for years without “noticing” their preferred glass. My observational skills are lacking. Largest proof yet???

My beloved front porch rocking chair—yes, the very blue one in the background of the photo.

I noticed the lack of chair on Friday while checking my mailbox. Of course, I wanted to report such an extravagant loss (okay, maybe extravagant isn’t the proper word) to the police, but my husband wisely said not to. Since Friday I’ve been disgusted with this act of theft. This morning, out of random interest in the digital photos I’ve taken over the past year, I opened iPhoto to peruse my files. And behold, what did I find? Pictures of my front porch during a beautiful snowfall on December 11, and… no rocking chair.

So now I’m laughing at myself. Still a little bummed about the chair, but apparently it’s nothing new!

It’s one of those nights. A night where I thought I would fall asleep around 9pm, after laze-ing on the couch for a few minutes following supper. Instead… here I am. On the internet for hours on end (boy, are my fingers and neck muscles going to be killing me tomorrow morning!), reading blog entries of some person who is admired by another person who’s a distant blogging cousin of a person I used to go to school with. Isn’t life grand? With Kleenex stuffed in both nostrils (merely a preventative measure I assure you), Neosporin thickly spread over my poor, damaged, shiny-red nose, and frequent applications of Vaseline to my cracked lips, I am still awake. 11:15pm. Wondering why in the world I’ve spent so much time in one position on the ugliest, most comfortable chair in my house, on the laptop computer my chiropractor brands as evil, watching really crappy television programming.

Enough is enough. Goodnight, world. I am off to luxurious, dreamless sleep only Nyquil can give.

2 – Christmas celebrations. One with the Tredways on Christmas Eve and the other with the Lawtons on Christmas Day. God has sure blessed us with great families, people that love us quite faithfully. It’s a small portrait of God’s grace, a peek into how beautiful it is to be adopted by Him, when you become a part of the “in-law” family. Here are these normal folks, completely unrelated to you biologically, and they treat you like their own under the Christmas tree, at the dinner table, everywhere. Really, the truth of it all hits me in a big way at Christmastime.

3 – New Year’s Eve invitations. Only one was honored — and that wasn’t exactly an invitation… it was more of a standing invite. Usually we spend New Year’s Eve with our good friends Rob & Carrie Nickeson. They were the first in our circles to have children, so it made sense to have the party at their house. This year is a special one as Rob is stationed with the National Guard in Mosul, Iraq. He’s been called to active duty since February 16 and has thus missed the twins’ 2nd birthday, Carrie’s birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years. I can only imagine how difficult it must be to raise toddlers on your own (and right now they’re potty-training), run your own salon (C&A Images), and be desperately missing your husband on a day-to-day basis. But Carrie is a stronger woman than most, and more practical than anyone else I know, so she’s making it through this challenge. Nonetheless, it was good to spend New Year’s Eve with Andrew and Nathan (until bedtime, of course), Carrie, “Freaky Friday”, cheese popcorn (which I’ve since learned my husband has great passion for), Ferrero Rocher, Russell Stover, and Dick Clark and his very odd singing/dancing/ball-dropping television program.

4 – Musicians at the Crescent Moon coffee shop last night. Our very own (sidenote: I’m not sure how you’re mine, Karen, but I’m gonna claim you anyway) Karen Locklear was performing when we walked into the store. I immediately spied Sommer Waite and asked, “Who’s singing?” without one clue that the voice belonged to Karen. Though sad to have missed the first few songs, I was grateful for the last empty chair on the fringe of the crowd and for Karen’s terrific abilities. Beautifully done, Karen, and beautifully done, Sommer. It was a perfect snowy night and spending it listening to these very talented songwriters was wonderful.

1 – Christmas tree currently in my possession. Last night the number was 2. You see, Charity and housemates thought it’d be oh-so-funny to prank us by depositing their (falling apart, needly, dry, enormous) tree somewhere in our house. (Now, why again did I give Charity a housekey??) So they did. And I’m not certain my little guest bathroom will ever be the same. The whole affair was quite hysterical actually. And, Grand Girls, thanks again for not putting your Christmas tree in my bedroom — for that I am very grateful.

52 – My current sed rate. This is not a good thing, and I am not being lighthearted in airing this on my blog. But I do want to be truthful and open about what’s going on in my life. Plus, Nutrasweet cannot fairly receive the blame for my aches and pains of late. There is some greater, darker force at work in my body that artificial sweeteners may have exacerbated but not caused. The normal “sed” rate for a woman is 20 or so, and mine is double that… Sed rates indicate the presence of inflammation or infection. My biggest worry is that I’ll be saddled with another chronic disease, perhaps one as bad at rheumatoid arthritis or lupus. So please pray for me this week — that the diagnosis will be easily treated and that God will grant me the grace needed for peace within my anxious soul, whatever the outcome of my doctor’s tests. I’m sure I am like many of you in my struggle for godliness vs. selfishness; I cling tightly to my desire for normality and earthly goals, readily throwing aside the notion of sanctification for the things I want here and now. Constantly struggling. And yet there is a great light ahead. “Holy, holy Lord God Almighty. Worthy is the Lamb who was slain. Highest praises, honor and glory be unto Your Name” – line from a chorus sung this morning at Zion.

1 – Sweet final thought. By poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning:

Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees takes off his shoes,
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.