Consider the Lilies..: May 2015   

May 26, 2015

Thoughts..

Sometimes you have to chose between your friends and the truth..

Basil doesn't like a lot of rain..

Neither does cilantro..

Some people would rather live a lie and be happy than embrace the truth and be saved..

I don't have the patience needed to shampoo the carpets properly..
Fortunately Clay does..

"Slave" by John MacAurthur is a really good book..

Curry is yummy in chicken salad..  

Popularity is an evil thing..

There are no longer live in positions overseas so we can't move to Africa..
Total bummer..

The easiest way to draw a crowd is to tell them exactly what they want to hear..

Making a perfectly poached egg isn't as difficult as I thought it was..

The idea of living far away from everything seems more appealing to me the older I get..

Girls with sooty welding boots make it difficult to keep the carpet clean..

I see a move to New Mexico in our future..
And a donkey..

May 19, 2015

Tuesday..

Britty came to Omaha for the weekend and brought her girlfriend Carey with her..


I really like her and Britty seems to be very happy..

We went to a gun show in Freemont; we were going to buy a gun but the dealer tried to cheat us so we changed our minds..

My laptop is messing up so I'm waiting for a box to come in the mail so I can sen it off to have it fixed..  
Once I turn it off it won't turn back on when I press the power button..  I have to press it about a bazillion times..  
So I will have to go 7 to 10 days without my laptop..  That means I will have a LOT of schoolwork to catch up on..

I can't think of anything else to blog about..
Have a great day!

May 15, 2015

I did it!

We canned!

We made 4 jars of strawberry jam and 8 jars of bread and butter pickles..
Cucumbers are cheaper than strawberries :)

We only did water bath canning but still, we canned!
Ever wonder why they call it canning when it's jars and not cans that you're using?
Yeah, me too..

I'm making spaghetti next week so I'm going to have to read the instructions for pressure canning about 50 times until I'm sure I understand them correctly..

I'm seriously hoping that when I open a jar of jam a month from now that I really did do it right and it's not all spoiled :)

May 14, 2015

Canning..?

Yesterday I made Thai coconut soup for dinner..  We had a lot left over but I couldn't find a container to put it in and Clay said "why don't you use your Mason jars?"..
I love Mason jars..  I use them for everything..  Except canning..
I keep them in the cabinet full of dry goods (pasta, rice, beans) I keep my tea in them (loose and bags) I keep my make up brushes, tooth brushes, flowers..  
Whatever can fit in a Mason jar goes in a Mason jar..

But I don't know how to actually can in a Mason jar..
Well, I don't know how to can in any jar..  I really want to know how to can..  Really..
I always thought canning was a difficult process full of never ending steps and pressure cookers..
I'm afraid of pressure cookers..
My mother-in-law uses one and she never has a problem with it..  In fact, everyone in New Mexico (where she lives) uses a pressure cooker all the time without incident..  They toss in some beans, some water, slap the lid on and *poof*  perfectly cooked beans..
She uses it to make potatoes, rice, chicken and dumplings, whatever..
Everything comes out perfectly every time.
When I use a pressure cooker; water spits out the sides, or the lid flies off and hits the ceiling, or everything burns to the bottom of the pan..
I have horrible experiences with pressure cookers..

Anyway..
I have always wanted to learn to can my own stuff, but the idea of using a pressure cooker is just far too intimidating for me..  But canning would make certain dinners easier..  
Like spaghetti..  My family loves my spaghetti..  Even Sky who hates tomatoes..  But making my spaghetti sauce is an all day thing..  I use fresh tomatoes that have to be peeled cored and seeded which is a chore in itself, garlic and onions that need to be peeled, chopped, & sauteed, and a bunch of herbs that have to be fresh, and then it has to be cooked and tweaked for several hours..  It's a looong process..
It's worth it though, the sauce is amazing!  But when you know it's going to take at least 8 hours, you don't make it very often..  However, if I could can it, we could have it more often..  I would still have to cook the sausage and add it to the sauce (you have to use a pressure cooker when canning anything with meat) but if I could just add it to a jar of sauce that only needed to be heated up?  No problemo..

I found a recipe for strawberry jam too..  
I don't normally like strawberries (or fruit for that matter) but I do like homemade strawberry jam..  The recipe I found doesn't call for pectin and it looks easy enough..
I think I'll try canning the jam first and see how well I do before I move on to spaghetti sauce..

Now I just need to convince Clay to buy me a canning kit..

Wish me luck!
*and if you know how to can, come over and help me!*


Later-
Clay said if I am going to learn to can, I might as well learn the right way..
It looks like I'll be learning to use a pressure cooker..

Pray for me..

May 10, 2015

Mother's Day..

I love Mother's Day..
Of course I do; I'm a mom..
Clay and Sky always go above and beyond on Mother's day,
which is always super awesome..

Church was good..  Not the typical "women you need to love yourself" Mother's Day sermon..  I'm grateful for that :)
Clay really liked the church I have been going to while he was at work; so much that he said we don't have to keep looking at other churches..  So we have found a church!  Yay!
While Clay and I were at church Sky cleaned the house and went shopping..
Steelers stuff, Twizzlers, flowers, and wind-chimes (the triangle thing behind the Twizzlers)..
She made the wind-chimes in welding which makes them even more awesome..

Clay got me all the herbs I wanted for this year's herb garden and filled all the pots with dirt and even lugged them up the stairs..
 Basil (lots!), oregano, chives, parsley, thyme, & tarragon..
They were all out of cilantro though..  Bummer..

And...
Tadaa!!!
An espresso machine!
Soo happy!
Even happier because Sky makes the perfect cappuccino..  Score!

Clay is grilling steaks for dinner (unless the tornado hits us) along with roasted onions and baked potatoes..

It's a good day :)

Happy Mother's Day!

May 9, 2015

Yay!

Clay is home..

That is all..

May 7, 2015

Omaha..

Update:
On Wednesday, May 6, 2015 at 4 a.m., Omaha Police were dispatched to 5008 S. 48th Ave. for a report of a missing adult female and her two sons. The missing persons were identified as Jesus I. Marinero, hispanic female, age 45 and her two sons also missing were identified as Jose Ramirez-Marinero, 5-years old and Angel Ramirez-Marinero, 11 months old. Marinero goes by the name Ismenia, which is her middle name.

On Wednesday, May 6, 2015, at 5:44 p.m., LaVista Police Department responded to a rescue call at Alpine Village Apartments, located near 84th & Harrison. On scene, LaVista police officers learned that a resident of the apartment found a child in a dumpster. The child was found to be alert and in fair condition, wearing only a diaper. The child was transported to a medical facility for evaluation.
On Wednesday, May 6, 2015, at 7:54 p.m., members of the Omaha Police were dispatched to 4th & Cedar in regards to a down party. A deceased woman was located and Omaha Police Department homicide investigators responded to the scene. The death of this unidentified female is being investigated as a homicide.
Based on the investigation, thus far, it has been determined that the 11 month found in the dumpster is Angel Ramirez-Marinero.
The Homicide Unit is looking into the possibility of a connection between this murder victim and Jesus I. Marinero. In addition, the autopsy began today, at 8:30 a.m., and it is hoped that a positive identification can be made after it is completed. However, the Omaha Police Department is investigating this homicide with the premise that the body is that of Ms. Marinero. Although, identification has not been positively confirmed.
The whereabouts of 5 year old Jose Ramirez-Marinero is unknown. An extensive search has been underway for him, he was last seen in a vehicle with his mother. The vehicle is a Silver, 2000, Jeep Cherokee Laredo, Nebraska license plate number SRH 941. The vehicle has not been located.
An Amber Alert is being issued in regard to the missing child and the vehicle.
The Omaha Police Department and LaVista Police Department have been jointly working these investigations throughout the night and continue to do so.
Anyone with information is asked to call Crime Stoppers at 402-444-STOP (7867) and/or the Omaha Police Department's Homicide Unit at 402-444-5656.
Point of contact for LaVista Police Department is Captain Jeremy Kinsey 402-331-1582
On Wednesday, May 6, 2015, at approximately 5:44 p.m. LaVista Police Officers responded to 7115 South 86th St. where an 11 month old child had been located in a dumpster.
The child was identified, and through the course of this investigation, information was obtained that this victim has a five-year-old sibling. Officers are requesting the assistance of the public in an attempt to locate this 5 year old child and the mother of the children.
The mother is:
Jesus I. MARINERO
1/2/70
The five year old child has been identified as:
Jose RAMIREZ 5/6/2010
Anyone with information regarding this investigation is urged to contact police at (402) 444-5652

May 5, 2015

The Bet..

The Bet
by
Anton Chekhov
It was a dark autumn night. The old banker was walking up and down his study and remembering how, fifteen years before, he had given a party one autumn evening. There had been many clever men there, and there had been interesting conversations. Among other things they had talked of capital punishment. The majority of the guests, among whom were many journalists and intellectual men, disapproved of the death penalty. They considered that form of punishment out of date, immoral, and unsuitable for Christian States. In the opinion of some of them the death penalty ought to be replaced everywhere by imprisonment for life. "I don't agree with you," said their host the banker. "I have not tried either the death penalty or imprisonment for life, but if one may judge a priori, the death penalty is more moral and more humane than imprisonment for life. Capital punishment kills a man at once, but lifelong imprisonment kills him slowly. Which executioner is the more humane, he who kills you in a few minutes or he who drags the life out of you in the course of many years?"
"Both are equally immoral," observed one of the guests, "for they both have the same object - to take away life. The State is not God. It has not the right to take away what it cannot restore when it wants to."   Among the guests was a young lawyer, a young man of five-and-twenty. When he was asked his opinion, he said "The death sentence and the life sentence are equally immoral, but if I had to choose between the death penalty and imprisonment for life, I would certainly choose the second. To live anyhow is better than not at all." 
 A lively discussion arose. The banker, who was younger and more nervous in those days, was suddenly carried away by excitement; he struck the table with his fist and shouted at the young man "It's not true! I'll bet you two million you wouldn't stay in solitary confinement for five years."  
"If you mean that in earnest," said the young man, "I'll take the bet, but I would stay not five but fifteen years."
 "Fifteen? Done!" cried the banker. "Gentlemen, I stake two million!" 
 "Agreed! You stake your millions and I stake my freedom!" said the young man.   And this wild, senseless bet was carried out.  The banker, spoilt and frivolous, with millions beyond his reckoning, was delighted at the bet. At supper he made fun of the young man, and said  "Think better of it, young man, while there is still time. To me two million is a trifle, but you are losing three or four of the best years of your life. I say three or four, because you won't stay longer. Don't forget either, you unhappy man, that voluntary confinement is a great deal harder to bear than compulsory. The thought that you have the right to step out in liberty at any moment will poison your whole existence in prison. I am sorry for you."
 And now the banker, walking to and fro, remembered all this, and asked himself  "What was the object of that bet? What is the good of that man's losing fifteen years of his life and my throwing away two million? Can it prove that the death penalty is better or worse than imprisonment for life? No, no. It was all nonsensical and meaningless. On my part it was the caprice of a pampered man, and on his part simple greed for money"  Then he remembered what followed that evening. It was decided that the young man should spend the years of his captivity under the strictest supervision in one of the lodges in the banker's garden. It was agreed that for fifteen years he should not be free to cross the threshold of the lodge, to see human beings, to hear the human voice, or to receive letters and newspapers. He was allowed to have a musical instrument and books, and was allowed to write letters, to drink wine, and to smoke. By the terms of the agreement, the only relations he could have with the outer world were by a little window made purposely for that object. He might have anything he wanted - books, music, wine, and so on - in any quantity he desired by writing an order, but could only receive them through the window. The agreement provided for every detail and every trifle that would make his imprisonment strictly solitary, and bound the young man to stay there exactly fifteen years, beginning from twelve o'clock of November 14, 1870, and ending at twelve o'clock of November 14, 1885. The slightest attempt on his part to break the conditions, if only two minutes before the end, released the banker from the obligation to pay him the two million.  
For the first year of his confinement, as far as one could judge from his brief notes, the prisoner suffered severely from loneliness and depression. The sounds of the piano could be heard continually day and night from his lodge. He refused wine and tobacco. Wine, he wrote, excites the desires, and desires are the worst foes of the prisoner; and besides, nothing could be more dreary than drinking good wine and seeing no one. And tobacco spoilt the air of his room. In the first year the books he sent for were principally of a light character; novels with a complicated love plot, sensational and fantastic stories, and so on.
In the second year the piano was silent in the lodge, and the prisoner asked only for the classics. In the fifth year music was audible again, and the prisoner asked for wine. Those who watched him through the window said that all that year he spent doing nothing but eating and drinking and lying on his bed, frequently yawning and angrily talking to himself. He did not read books. Sometimes at night he would sit down to write; he would spend hours writing, and in the morning tear up all that he had written. More than once he could be heard crying.
In the second half of the sixth year the prisoner began zealously studying languages, philosophy, and history. He threw himself eagerly into these studies - so much so that the banker had enough to do to get him the books he ordered. In the course of four years some six hundred volumes were procured at his request. It was during this period that the banker received the following letter from his prisoner:
"My dear Jailer, I write you these lines in six languages. Show them to people who know the languages. Let them read them. If they find not one mistake I implore you to fire a shot in the garden. That shot will show me that my efforts have not been thrown away. The geniuses of all ages and of all lands speak different languages, but the same flame burns in them all. Oh, if you only knew what unearthly happiness my soul feels now from being able to understand them!" The prisoner's desire was fulfilled. The banker ordered two shots to be fired in the garden.  
Then after the tenth year, the prisoner sat immovably at the table and read nothing but the Gospel. It seemed strange to the banker that a man who in four years had mastered six hundred learned volumes should waste nearly a year over one thin book easy of comprehension. Theology and histories of religion followed the Gospels.
In the last two years of his confinement the prisoner read an immense quantity of books quite indiscriminately. At one time he was busy with the natural sciences, then he would ask for Byron or Shakespeare. There were notes in which he demanded at the same time books on chemistry, and a manual of medicine, and a novel, and some treatise on philosophy or theology. His reading suggested a man swimming in the sea among the wreckage of his ship, and trying to save his life by greedily clutching first at one spar and then at another.
The old banker remembered all this, and thought "To-morrow at twelve o'clock he will regain his freedom. By our agreement I ought to pay him two million. If I do pay him, it is all over with me: I shall be utterly ruined."  
Fifteen years before, his millions had been beyond his reckoning; now he was afraid to ask himself which were greater, his debts or his assets. Desperate gambling on the Stock Exchange, wild speculation and the excitability which he could not get over even in advancing years, had by degrees led to the decline of his fortune and the proud, fearless, self-confident millionaire had become a banker of middling rank, trembling at every rise and fall in his investments. "Cursed bet!" muttered the old man, clutching his head in despair "Why didn't the man die? He is only forty now. He will take my last penny from me, he will marry, will enjoy life, will gamble on the Exchange; while I shall look at him with envy like a beggar, and hear from him every day the same sentence: 'I am indebted to you for the happiness of my life, let me help you!' No, it is too much! The one means of being saved from bankruptcy and disgrace is the death of that man!"  
It struck three o'clock, the banker listened; everyone was asleep in the house and nothing could be heard outside but the rustling of the chilled trees. Trying to make no noise, he took from a fireproof safe the key of the door which had not been opened for fifteen years, put on his overcoat, and went out of the house. It was dark and cold in the garden. Rain was falling. A damp cutting wind was racing about the garden, howling and giving the trees no rest. The banker strained his eyes, but could see neither the earth nor the white statues, nor the lodge, nor the trees. Going to the spot where the lodge stood, he twice called the watchman. No answer followed. Evidently the watchman had sought shelter from the weather, and was now asleep somewhere either in the kitchen or in the greenhouse.  "If I had the pluck to carry out my intention," thought the old man, "Suspicion would fall first upon the watchman." 
He felt in the darkness for the steps and the door, and went into the entry of the lodge. Then he groped his way into a little passage and lighted a match. There was not a soul there. There was a bedstead with no bedding on it, and in the corner there was a dark cast-iron stove. The seals on the door leading to the prisoner's rooms were intact.
When the match went out the old man, trembling with emotion, peeped through the little window. A candle was burning dimly in the prisoner's room. He was sitting at the table. Nothing could be seen but his back, the hair on his head, and his hands. Open books were lying on the table, on the two easy-chairs, and on the carpet near the table.
Five minutes passed and the prisoner did not once stir. Fifteen years' imprisonment had taught him to sit still. The banker tapped at the window with his finger, and the prisoner made no movement whatever in response. Then the banker cautiously broke the seals off the door and put the key in the keyhole. The rusty lock gave a grating sound and the door creaked. The banker expected to hear at once footsteps and a cry of astonishment, but three minutes passed and it was as quiet as ever in the room. He made up his mind to go in.  
At the table a man unlike ordinary people was sitting motionless. He was a skeleton with the skin drawn tight over his bones, with long curls like a woman's and a shaggy beard. His face was yellow with an earthy tint in it, his cheeks were hollow, his back long and narrow, and the hand on which his shaggy head was propped was so thin and delicate that it was dreadful to look at it. His hair was already streaked with silver, and seeing his emaciated, aged-looking face, no one would have believed that he was only forty. He was asleep ... In front of his bowed head there lay on the table a sheet of paper on which there was something written in fine handwriting.
"Poor creature" thought the banker, "he is asleep and most likely dreaming of the millions. And I have only to take this half-dead man, throw him on the bed, stifle him a little with the pillow, and the most conscientious expert would find no sign of a violent death. But let us first read what he has written here..  The banker took the page from the table and read as follows:  
"Tomorrow at twelve o'clock I regain my freedom and the right to associate with other men, but before I leave this room and see the sunshine, I think it necessary to say a few words to you. With a clear conscience I tell you, as before God, who beholds me, that I despise freedom and life and health, and all that in your books is called the good things of the world.  For fifteen years I have been intently studying earthly life. It is true I have not seen the earth nor men, but in your books I have drunk fragrant wine, I have sung songs, I have hunted stags and wild boars in the forests, have loved women ... Beauties as ethereal as clouds, created by the magic of your poets and geniuses, have visited me at night, and have whispered in my ears wonderful tales that have set my brain in a whirl. In your books I have climbed to the peaks of Elburz and Mont Blanc, and from there I have seen the sun rise and have watched it at evening flood the sky, the ocean, and the mountain-tops with gold and crimson. I have watched from there the lightning flashing over my head and cleaving the storm-clouds. I have seen green forests, fields, rivers, lakes, towns. I have heard the singing of the sirens, and the strains of the shepherds' pipes; I have touched the wings of comely devils who flew down to converse with me of God ... In your books I have flung myself into the bottomless pit, performed miracles, slain, burned towns, preached new religions, conquered whole kingdoms.  Your books have given me wisdom. All that the unresting thought of man has created in the ages is compressed into a small compass in my brain. I know that I am wiser than all of you.  And I despise your books, I despise wisdom and the blessings of this world. It is all worthless, fleeting, illusory, and deceptive, like a mirage. You may be proud, wise, and fine, but death will wipe you off the face of the earth as though you were no more than mice burrowing under the floor, and your posterity, your history, your immortal geniuses will burn or freeze together with the earthly globe.  You have lost your reason and taken the wrong path. You have taken lies for truth, and hideousness for beauty. You would marvel if, owing to strange events of some sorts, frogs and lizards suddenly grew on apple and orange trees instead of fruit, or if roses began to smell like a sweating horse; so I marvel at you who exchange heaven for earth. I don't want to understand you.  To prove to you in action how I despise all that you live by, I renounce the two million of which I once dreamed as of paradise and which now I despise. To deprive myself of the right to the money I shall go out from here five hours before the time fixed, and so break the compact ..."
When the banker had read this he laid the page on the table, kissed the strange man on the head, and went out of the lodge, weeping. At no other time, even when he had lost heavily on the Stock Exchange, had he felt so great a contempt for himself. When he got home he lay on his bed, but his tears and emotion kept him for hours from sleeping.
Next morning the watchmen ran in with pale faces, and told him they had seen the man who lived in the lodge climb out of the window into the garden, go to the gate, and disappear.

May 4, 2015

Things you might not know about introverts..

We don't care about your birthday..
Ok, maybe 'don't care' is a little too harsh..  Of course we care about you and we are glad you have lived another year..  Seriously..  
We just don't want to celebrate it with you..  We are happy to take you to lunch or send you flowers or something, but we don't want to come to your birthday party..
It's nothing personal..  
I know how mean that sounds.  But for real, it's nothing personal..
To be honest, we don't want to come to your anything: not your birthday, your kid's birthday, baby-shower, bridal-shower, graduation party, etc.  Not even weddings..
We do show up to things occasionally because we know that people take it personally when we don't (even though I said it's nothing personal) but given the choice, we would rather not..

We don't care about our own birthday..
You know how people say "don't make a fuss over my birthday" but don't really mean it?
Well, we do..  It's not a fear of getting older, it's not denial; we just don't want you to make a big deal over it.  
We don't want a party, we certainly don't want a surprise party, and we are perfectly ok if you don't even remember it.
If Clay is home, we go to dinner and a movie..  My sister makes me something and usually gives it to me before my actual birthday, and Sky will either do all the housework or she'll give me a gift..  That's it..  I'm good with that..
I don't even answer the phone on my birthday because I don't want to have that awkward "happy birthday" conversation..
But if an introvert actually does agree to let you take them to lunch on their birthday, here is a tip for you; do not ever have the waiters sing "happy birthday"..  It might be the last time that introvert ever speaks to you..
I'm not kidding.. 

We are not sad or depressed or hiding from the world..
We are busy people..  Just because we aren't out socializing doesn't mean we aren't doing anything..  We are reading, writing, learning, studying, working, conversing, thinking, organizing, doing..
For real..
We don't just sit around and watch television all day..  In fact, my television is never on during the day, because I'm too busy doing..

We just don't love to talk on the phone..
That doesn't mean we won't, but there has to be a reason..  I can talk on the phone with my friend Kathy for 3 or 4 hours because when she calls, she calls for a reason..  We have a conversation..  Real conversation..  It's the same with my friend Tina.. She calls when she has something to talk about, and usually only when she can't convey her thoughts properly through text..  
I would much rather text.  Introverts express ideas better when writing rather than talking.
But calling just to say "hi"?  Ugh..  Just don't..  We don't enjoy the "just calling to see how you're doing" calls..
At all.

We really do have friends..
And we like them..  Truly!  We enjoy spending time with them..  We even enjoy getting together with several friends at a time..  We go to dinners, social events, concerts, barbecue's, all that jazz..  We can talk, joke, and laugh with everyone..
But when it's over we want to stay in our house and not see or talk to anyone for a week..
You didn't do anything to offend us and we are not upset about anything..  
We just need to recharge..
Again, it's nothing personal..

We aren't shy or rude, and we aren't snobs..
We just don't know you..  Give us some time..  Let us get accustomed to you and you will see that we can hold a conversation that lasts longer than 5 minutes..  The thing is, we just don't talk to everyone..  For us, being 'social' or 'sociable' is an option, not a way of being.. We don't fake excited, happy or even interested very well and we absolutely despise small talk..

About small talk..
Honest!
We are thinkers..  We love a good conversation, but small talk?  It's torture..  Give us a topic and we will talk about it..  Chose one of our favorite topics and just try to shut us up!  
But's it's got to be a real conversation..  If you just want to pass the time, or talk about the weather; please don't..

Another conversation no-no..
We can't stand complaining or whining..  We aren't good with pity parties..
There are people out there who love being that person you call when you're upset..  They want you to call them..  They want to comfort you..  We don't..
It's not that we don't care about you..  We do..  We just aren't good at those types of situations..
So, unless you are my sister, don't call me when you're upset..  
I can promise you, I will not do a good job of making you feel better..  I don't know how..  I'll probably just upset you more..

We are absolutely ok being alone..
We like to entertain ourselves..  We have plenty to keep us busy..  Extroverts need to be around others almost all the time..  We don't..  We enjoy our own company and are very capable of entertaining ourselves..   
We are rarely bored or lonely.

If we are around you, it's because we want to be; appreciate it.
We value our time alone and we are picky about who we let in..  Letting in the wrong person is draining on us..  We tend to attract extroverts who eventually exhaust us, but we search for introverts like ourselves..  When we find one it's like finding buried treasure..
That's why Clay and I are so good together..  He's an introvert like me, with just a couple differences; he talks less than I do, but he handles small talk and awkward phone calls better than I do..

We don't do tactful well..
We really don't mean to be rude..  We aren't trying to be..  We just say what we think..
I don't mean that we say the first thing that pops into our heads, nor do I mean that we don't think before we speak..  I'm saying that we rarely consider the feelings of the person we are talking to when we we do speak..
That doesn't mean we give advice without being asked, or blurt out opinions without being asked; but when you ask for our advice or our opinion, we are going to give them to you..
For example: if you ask us what we think of your haircut, we are going to tell you what we think of your haircut.  If we don't like it, we are going to say "I don't like it".  
We don't sugar coat.  We aren't trying to hurt your feelings or insult you.  
We are being direct.  We want you to be direct with us too..
We wouldn't be hurt if you were direct with us, so we naturally assume you won't be hurt if we are direct with you.
If we hurt your feelings, say so.  We will apologize will try to remember that next time.

Call first..
Always..  If you come to our house without calling, there's a good chance we won't answer the door..  This is another one of those 'it's nothing personal' things..
For an introvert, being around others is something we need to prepare for..
I know that sounds weird..  But we have to be ready to see someone..  By 'ready' I don't mean that the house has to look a certain way, or we have to look a certain way; I mean that we have to be mentally ready..
*my sister is the exception to this rule*

We don't seek comfort when we are upset..
This is a tough one for extroverts to understand..
When something bad happens we don't want to talk about it right away..  We don't want you to call us, we don't want to be hugged and we don't want you to come over..
We need to process..  We need to think..  
Please, please please don't tell us that we need to talk about it..  
We know what we need..
If we need you, we will let you know..
Trust me..

We  don't require a lot of praise..
Everyone likes to know that their efforts are appreciated, but a simple 'thank you' is enough.  Don't get all mushy, it makes us uncomfortable..

 No touchy!
We don't like to hug or sit so close that we are touching and we really appreciate personal space..  We don't want you to pat our hand, or stroke our back, or rub our shoulders (unless they hurt, then we will ask you)..  Naturally there are a few exceptions; spouses or our children, or if we haven't seen you in a long time..  
Other than that?  A handshake will do..



Now someone blog about extroverts..  
I find them  fascinating..  
From a distance..  :)

Thoughts..

I have 7 things on my To Do list today..


I had to get doggy steps for Buster so he can get on the couch because he's too old to jump..


Clay will be home in 4 days..


I can't understand how I can mow the lawn and an hour later there are full grown dandelions all over the yard..


The Bible talks about repentance 78 times in the Bible..
54 of those are in the New Testament..


My daughter still thinks she needs to tell me about every single bodily function that occurs..
(Not sure that's a good thing)

I have 5 pairs of glasses..
I don't know why..

4:37 AM is not a good time for the smoke alarm to begin signaling that the battery is going dead..

I have a lot of schoolwork to do today.

FYI, Don't put on the first shirt you grab without looking on Sunday morning; if you go to Sunday school wearing a shirt that says "Theology Nerd" the guy teaching expects you to answer every question because no one else is speaking up..

I wore my shirt backwards to church last week..
I'm not having much luck when it comes to dressing myself for church..

It's supposed to rain all week..  Just when the lawn dries out enough for me to mow, it rains again.
Not that I'm complaining; I like the rain, but the pooper-scooper guy doesn't scoop if the grass is too long..
I'll have to figure out a different way to pick up Clay from the airport too..


May 1, 2015

One more week..

It's Friday..
Clay will be home next Friday..
Just one more week..
It's been long enough..
The last week is always the hardest..
It's really going to suck if he calls to tell me he has to stay longer..

I have blood-work today..  
Normally I go in once a month but my liver is trying to turn toxic again..
So that means blood-work every week and possibly an ultrasound this month too..
Yay..

Geez, I can't think of anything else to blog about..
Haven't been doing much besides school and housework..
Not that I mind..
 I like school and housework and not going anywhere..
But it's not that exciting to read about..

I haven't worked on my thesis in a week..
I've only written 3 pages..
I really should get a move on..
I need to do a lot of organizing and research before I can get started actually writing..

Ok, I have been sitting here forever trying to think of something else to write and
nothing is coming to mind..
 So here..

This is Ralph..

Sky named her Ralph before we learned that she was a girl..
 She lives in the tree in the back yard and she's always running across the 
railing on the deck so I decided to put some food out for her..
I put a bowl of corn and other squirrel food on the railing and 
hung a bird feeder the the cardinals and blue jays too..
Ralph went right for the Bird feeder..
She's pretty brave, she doesn't run away when we go out on the deck and she
doesn't seem too bothered that Angel (the evil cat) is sleeping on the deck when it's sunny.