I am happy to admit Whitney's mission blog is up and running. Before you start phoning the mission president that she is disobeying mission rules, don't. I'm managing the blog, not Whitney. For those of you who are interested in hearing how she is doing, this will be a great place for you to read her e-mails. We will keep her address posted, too, so that y'all can write back to her. I wish we could share her letters as well. Her gift of putting words on paper has always been a pleasure and this mission is no exception. That being said, as her mother, I don't think she would want me to spend all of my time re-typing them, editing them for content (that's HER job), and trying to decide what should be shared and what should be kept 'within the family.' You've heard the statement, "we would all have more personal spiritual experiences if we didn't share them with everyone." This would be Whitney's request. Some things are meant to be shared; other things are too sacred to be shared with the blogging world, no matter how small our reader/fan base it. So, in the spirit of wanting you to know how great she is doing, but also honoring her privacy, we will share what she wants, and keep the rest for her to share when she returns. Visit her sight often. You won't be disappointed. It will delight and uplift you and put a smile on your face. Here is the website: wit-in-houston.blogspot.com. Or, you can always just click on her picture on my sidebar and it will magically take you there. Comment if you like. But mostly, ENJOY!
Friday, July 17, 2009
Lately I don't sleep so well. I have no trouble falling asleep, but then I wake up numerous times, tossing and turning, never fully reaching a state of nirvana. It could be that I gave up Coke and ice cream. It could be that one daughter is embarking on a new adventure and the other is soon to follow with a new adventure as well. It could be that it is 100-plus degrees in our room at night. It could be that there are just too many great re-run episodes of late-night tv. Whatever the reason, I came across a commercial for Ambien around 1 a.m. that struck me as slightly oxy-moronic, to say the least. (Note to readers: Do NOT continue to read if you are a big fan of Ambien. STOP HERE...I repeat. STOP HERE!) Here is a drug that is supposed to induce restful, relaxing sleep so that I will wake up ready to start the day with more energy than Miley Cyrus on a particulary good day. It has me interested until the disclaimers start rolling. "May cause confusion, delusions, and hallucinations." I sure don't need a drug to do that for me. I'm already confused and delusional most days (probably due to lack of Coke) and I spend a lot of time hallucinating that I look better in swimwear than I really do. The part that really loses my interest comes next. "In rare cases, the use of this drug may cause swelling of the tongue, throat, and in some instances, even death." WHOA. Stop right there, Becky! If I want a swollen tongue and throat I will eat ice cream until they are frozen. (Well, not really. Not since I gave up ice cream FOR-EV-ER!) If I want to die, well, I guess I could give up Coke AND ice cream at the same time. But for now, all I really want to do is sleep. I guess I'll resort to counting sheep.
I'm done screaming for ice cream. Phillip and I were invited to an ice cream social/financial planning meeting this week at a local establishment. We don't have much money for anyone to financial plan, but it was free ice cream so we decided to go. When I saw the size of what they were serving I had the weirdest out-of-body experience. I lost all desire to eat ice cream. Ever. Again. Seriously. People all around me were gorging on six and seven scoop sundaes, dripping in caramel and fudge and whipped cream. Some were indulging in mile-high creations of brownies and ice cream and cookies and ice cream and marshmallows and ice cream and bananas and ice cream. I had the odd sensation that I was participating in ice cream voyeurism. It didn't feel right to watch people eat so much ice cream. I ordered a small root beer float, thinking I would be safe with that choice. Think again. It was visually about 15 inches high, filled with scoop after scoop of creamy vanilla ice cream, and foaming over the top with root beer and whipped cream. Every time I would try to take a taste of the ice cream, my straw became a root beer fountain, bubbling root beer up and out and all over me and my surroundings. Never before has my life actually been threatened while enjoying a root beer float. I managed to finish it but just barely. I actually felt so guilty between my eating and observing that I came home and logged 30 minutes on wii fit. I still don't know if that even made a dent. This post is public proof that I promise to remain ice cream and float-free. For-ever. And ever. Amen.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Cassidy's manicure...My friend Kim's pedicure...
'I've been waiting such a long time for today.' I wanted to hear my friend Wayne's voice one last time as he announced the Melaleuca Celebration fireworks. Thanks to the beauty of radio and saving things FOREVER, Wayne was right there in the nighttime sky...praising America and making us believe for just a few brief moments that Saturday in the Park is indeed, 'a real celebration.' I'm pretty sure my good friend Wayne was right there with us, watching from above this time, instead of from down below. I think that's why the fireworks glowed just a little bit brighter and little bit longer this year. Happy (late) Birthday, America! Drive safely, Wayne!