I have gained 8,437 pounds since December 1st. I hope it’s not wrong that I am praying that the entire ‘All Talk’ world gain weight so I don’t look so fat. 

My biggest fear is that (entirely possible)  in years to come, as I look back at pictures of these last two weeks I find myself remarking ‘Oh, look how much smaller I was!’, and not ‘look how big I was!’ . . . in the meantime, I hate diets & I hate fat. It’s just a challenge to see which of those I hate more.

This is all my husbands fault. Let’s all blame him together, shall we? He’s a slender saint. He could stand a blemish or two.

Let’s blame him.

I am NOT grumpy, so stop thinking that.

Amidst all this fat, uh . .  chaos. . . God loves me . . .

Alright, I confess. I have quirks that are at times, infuriating to those around me. I come from a long line of masterful verbalists. When they put their responsibilities aside and did what they chose, my parents could throw down some vocabulary, man! I mean they could weave a tapestry with language that was spellbinding! My mother is so clever with word-crafting and my father was an endless knowledge bank of usage and origin. It was a lovely experience listening to either of them orate on any subject. . .  Now, while I can’t come close to their natural ability, I do appreciate proper word usage. OK, I’m (quite possibly) rabid about it, but somewhat reckless when it comes to applying my own standards to my own writing/speaking. Thus, the frustration of those around me. Kind of the pot calling the kettle black, as it were.

So, if this annoys you, please forgive or at least ignore me. Since my husband has been home much of the time these last two weeks, I have taken it easy at the farm and been home quite a bit more than usual. THAT means, I’ve watched more television and read more news than usual, and THAT means I hear/read more language gaffes than usual. You would think that professions that put one in the public eye would cause one to put their best foot forward. Far too many of them put their best foot in their mouths. Even on a national scale, the ‘dumbing down’ of our language is a disgrace.

I must get these off my chest or I will not sleep tonight.

I won’t even touch the sports commentators, or the participants that they interview. That would be too painful. They are in a world all their own. So, putting those aside, here are a few of my least favorite peeves:

Why can’t the leader of the free world say the word nuclear? It is pronounced ‘new-clear’, not ‘new-q-ler’.

There IS no ‘i’ in the word ‘Realtor’. It is pronounced ‘real-tor’, not ‘real-eh-tor’.

The word ‘unique’ denotes an ‘absolute’ condition. It doesn’t have degrees, so preceding it with an adjective such as ‘somewhat’ or ‘very’ doesn’t work. I liken it to being sort of pregnant, or one’s version of the truth (truth doesn’t have versions).

On what planet does ‘alls I know is’ sound right?

The phrase ‘I could care less’ implies that you care. To get your meaning across, the phrase should be ’I couldn’t care less’.

The word is ‘regardless’. ir- and -less are both negatives so they cancel each other out, which leaves you with regard. Please just stay away from ‘irregardless’.

The word ‘supposedly’ does not have a ‘b’ anywhere near it. It is pronounced ‘supposeDly’, not ‘supposeBly’.

Not too long ago my husband and I were at a large high $ a plate dinner. There were several hundred guests and lots of press there covering. I don’t know why no one seemed to notice but us, but the last dignitary to speak ended her speech this way “without further to do, I introduce to you . . .(guest of honor name here)”. We thought they would throw us out from laughter. I could not bring myself to tell this government official that what she MUST have meant to say was ‘without further ado’. . . .

Amidst all this chaos . . . God loves me . . .

This morning brought some very troubling news across our television screens. While it’s familiar (despicably so) to be informed of violence, and murderous unrest in the middle east, the news this morning was particularly distressing to women.

As a general rule, I tend to dismiss the idea that women will be thought of as anything other than ‘property’ or livestock in that part of the world. Pakistan is a Muslim republic (between India and Afghanistan) where men and religion rule. . . . women are disposable.

I had however, a lot of hope for change with the return of former prime minister Bhutto, but I remember thinking in October that ‘they’ would get her sooner rather than later.  In an attempt to kill her that time, ‘they’ blew up 140 bystanders instead. This time, ‘they’ hit the target. She had very close ties to the United States, which certainly didn’t win her any friends. . . and she worked hard rallying her people against radical extremist terrorism. . . which of course is what ended up killing her.

But, she knew ‘they’ were hot on her heels. I watched her interviewed about that incident several times. She knew the probabilities of assassination, but she believed in her cause more than she feared her enemies. There is not a woman in the wings, ready to pick up the torch that I know of, but someone will. ‘They’ might get him/her quickly too, but someone will pick it up after them.

Please add the women of Pakistan and surrounding countries to your immediate prayer list. Freedom is costly. Can you imagine how hopeless they must be right now? While they may not be ‘sisters in Christ’, they are sisters. God loves them just as He loved us before we knew Him.

Fridtjof Nansen was dead on when he said “The difficult is what takes a little time; the impossible is what takes a little longer.”

Amidst all this chaos . . . God loves me . . .

I was watching Joel Osteen today on “Fox News Sunday” fence some fairly pointed questions about the criticism he has received from other prominent Christian ministers. I had NO IDEA he was just a ‘guy’ that took over his Dad’s ministry. I (carelessly) assumed that he was at the very least a seminary student that just missed a few classes . . . if you know what I mean. He has no training in ministry or theology in any way other than ‘on the job’.

Now, I don’t want to get mixed up with the Pharisees of Biblical times saying you must stick to certain ‘rules’ to find favor with God. Yes, it is true that we are all ministers. It is also true that seminary doesn’t automatically qualify a person to LEAD a congregation. However, if I were called to the task of teaching thousands, even millions about Jesus, it might cross my mind to at least get my facts straight.

He said he doesn’t teach or talk about sin, because he’s called to be an ‘encourager’. I guess teaching that we are worthless filthy rags without God’s amazing GRACE is kind of a downer. . . it doesn’t draw much of a crowd in the ‘It’s about me. ALL about me and how I deserve everything’, mindset.

He was asked “Are Mormon’s Christians?” His answer was “In my mind, they are” which explains nothing . . . . . . Ah! . . . . . now I get it! Mr. Osteen’s ’ministry’ . . .  I use that term lightly . . . is based on what is in his mind, not what’s in God’s Word.

And amidst all this chaos . . . God loves me . . .

What is it about men that they concoct such juvenile ‘traditions’? At football games, you never see a girl wearing a bikini with her stomach painted.  Women don’t usually (after a team score) jump in the air slamming their bellies together with another girl. While it’s true we go to the restroom in packs or teams, and we rarely eat more than a salad on a first date, those things don’t venture into the ridiculous.

I’ve always heard that girls mature much faster than boys & that eventually the guys catch up. I’ve come to the conclusion that they don’t catch up. They come to a screeching halt at about 14. They just fill out body wise, which apparently squeezes the brain into a pebble sized compartment giving way to much more important testosterone events . . . as it were.

Why else would a man leave the comfort of home, not shower, douse his boots in doe urine, dress in ‘let’s play army man’ clothes, and sit in an abandoned tree house alone, only to get his buddies to snap a picture, smiling next to his trophy with the deer’s blood smeared all over his face? Blood. Smeared on his face. And it’s supposed to be an ‘honor’. Not only that, but there’s a ‘necklace’ that’s also part of this unsophisticated ritual that I can’t even describe to you.

I can certainly understand why some would think that we are evolved rather than created.

I wonder if he’ll howl at the moon tonight?

And amidst all this chaos . . . God loves me . . .

Oh HAPPY DAY! WOOO-HOOO!!  A break from my boyfriend! OK, yes he’s my husband also, but he’s still my only boyfriend. . .  :)

 Anyway, here’s how this afternoon went . . . He said to me: “Honey, there are fewer times in the coming weeks that I’ll be able to go hunting, and some of the guys are already at the camp, and I was thinking . . .”

Let me tell you, before he could draw breath to finish his summation to the jury, I blurted out “Go! Oh, that would be so wonderful for you, and you need the break (I lied, slyly. We all know it was ME who needed the break from HIS vacation) ” I continued,   “Besides, the Christmas shopping is all done (lie #2), and all wrapped (lie #3). I think I can manage while you take an overnight hunting trip (lie#4).”

Let me also tell you that it’s a dang good thing that along with smoke and radon detectors in our home, that we’re NOT equipped with a polygraph. It would have registered off the Richter scale, I’m sure. Now, are these lies that I need to ask forgiveness for? H-m-m-m.

St. Augustine said that there are eight kinds of lies.

1. Lies in religious teaching.
2. Lies that harm others and help no one.
3. Lies that harm others and help someone.
4. Lies told for the pleasure of lying.
5. Lies told to “please others in smooth discourse.”
6. Lies that harm no one and that help someone.
7. Lies that harm no one and that save someone’s life.
8. Lies that harm no one and that save someone’s “purity.”

Before I think this out too hard, I have to confess that lies rarely get me anywhere and this is no exception. I already miss him and he’s only been gone 2 hours . . .and amidst all this chaos . . . God loves me . . .

What would possess a man wear a bad toupee? If a man is so egocentric that he pretends he’s not bald (or balding), why doesn’t he go the extra mile and fork out the dough for a decent hairpiece? The man that inspired this post was one I saw just this afternoon for the first time. I know for certain that I’ve never seen him before, as it’s pretty hard to forget the vision of a man strolling to his car perching a dead guinea pig on his head. It was even windy today, but he must have confidently decided that it was worth the risk. For me, this concept is, and always will be, an enigma.

I once dated a man without so much as a piece of lint from the ears up. We saw each other for over two years, and it never occurred to him to ‘wear’ a disguise. He was a solid person, very intelligent, successful, and liked himself immensely. It was O.K though, other people liked him, too.

Please, if someone you know is compelled to create the illusion of hair, please encourage them to at least try ‘au naturel’. If they are not convinced, please at least help them shop. No bargains, here. You get what you pay for in this arena. And under no circumstances are you to allow them to save money and try a ‘comb-over’. That handful of ten inch strands swept atop the head is no more camouflaging than the rodent theory. Remind them that with a comb-over they can never swim again. Visualize what you’d see if they came up out of the water after a dive. . .

. . . . and amidst all this chaos . . . God loves me . . .

OK, I guess it’s all coming back to bite me in the buttercup. All those marvelous, spectacular hurrahs I offered about my boyscout husband . . . you know, the “He’s never done anything wrong in his life”, “He’s the finest person I know”, “He’s just like Dr. Billy Graham” ones? Well, Mr. Magnificent is off work, and will be home until after the first of the year. . . . NOW what am I gonna do? I love my prince, and all those things I say about him really are true. . . but . . . I like him so much more from a distance.

A little at a time, please.

What do all those women do with their men who retire? Oh, heavens don’t get me started. I remember my Mother telling me about when my dad returned from being in Korea for a year. She had been managing quite well on her own, running the house with all 5 of us under 12 years of age, paying the bills, helping with homework, keeping the car serviced, and so forth. While she missed him terribly, when he got home, he wanted things done ‘his’ way, and set about ‘righting‘ things here, changing her routine there. It’s a wonder she didn’t take his side-arm and run him back to Korea.

Three . . . . whole . . . weeks. Yea. . . . Well, that which does not kill us, only makes us stronger.

And amidst all this chaos . . . God loves me . . .

I’ve come to the realization that the reason we don’t see ‘chickens’ depicted as part of the Baby Jesus (manger) crèche’s around the world, is because they are without exception, the nastiest animals on the planet.If you don’t believe me, try cleaning out a chicken coop after a water trough has dribbled water into it overnight. And even though I need a shower in the worst way, amidst all this chaos . . . God loves me . . .

I’m listening to the GOP candidates in a last heated debate before the Iowa Caucuses. They all want to put their best foot forward, of course. For the most part, I’ve seen so much of each of them in the last few months that I can pick out their voices, so there’s no need to sit at my computer to ‘watch’. However this ‘Ron Paul’ fella, until now, I have only seen rarely, mostly still photos. Today is the first time I’ve really seen & heard him actually speak for any length of time. I like him alright, . . . . I don’t know if it’s facial expressions, the shape of his face, or how he moves his head when he speaks, but watching him . . . .  all I can think of is Herbie the elf that wants to be a Dentist, all grown up, sans the pointy hat & curly shoes.

I also think I’ve pretty much decided whom I think should be the GOP candidate . . . . but I won’t say who that is . . .yet. And even though it may be someone other than ‘you’ would want . . .

. . . amidst all this chaos . . . God loves me . . .