More iluv

Following on with this week's theme of loving my ipod, I decided to do the meme that Shan had over at her site a few days ago (I was amazed by how many artists/songs she had on her ipod that I had never heard of. Then she explained that her husband had loaded most of them on, and the light dawned again--Shan, I know--Jamey...not so much). Basically, the game goes like this: set your ipod to shuffle and then answer the following questions according to the songs as they pop up.

Here is how mine went:

1) How would you describe yourself?
Mighty Fine Blues (Eels)
Hmm. I don’t know about the “mighty fine” part, but I AM known as Becky Blue (that’s Ms. Bleu, if you’re nasty) to my nearest and dearest, so I guess it works.

2) What do you like in a guy/girl?
I Need a Hero (Frou Frou)
Very fitting. I like the swashbuckling, pirate Johnny Depp types—or the come-and-fix-my-tire-when-I-need-him Casey types. Casey makes me (and my sister )feel safe. And I've always had a thing for strong, buff, bald guys (a la' Yul Brynner).


3) What is your motto?
I Wanna Be a Cowboy (Boys Don’t Cry)
I do? Yippee, yippee yi, yippee yi, yo yo. My name is Ted and one day, I’ll be dead, yo yo.


4) What do your friends think of you?
Tere Bina (“Besides You”) (A.R. Rehman, Chinmaye—Guru soundtrack)
These Hindi ones are tough—since I don’t know what they are saying, it’s hard to relate. I’ll just guess that my friends know no one as goofy, besides me.

5) What do you think about often?
I See a Boat on a River (Bony M)
I do spend a lot of time dreaming about canoeing and putt-putting around the lake on our little fishing boat. Especially when it is wintertime and I want it to be WARM.

6) What do your parents think of you?
Chakna Chakna (Himesh Reshammiya—Namaste London)
I need Prithi's help, because I could not find a translation for this one to save my life. It is mystery, then, what my parents think of me.

7) What do you think of your best friend?
Accidentally in Love (Counting Crows)
Er . . . while I do love my bff, I am not in love with her, I swear. I like guys—really, I do. Gulp.

8) What do you think of the person you like?
Kiss on My List (Hall and Oates)
HE (see above question) is a great kisser. Always has been. That’s probably one of the reasons why we’ve been married for almost 18 years—he’s a really good kisser.

9) What do you want to be when you grow up?
Last Night a DJ Saved My Life (Indeep)
According to this song, I either wanted to be a 1) DJ, 2) plumber, or 3) EMT. But it’s a lie; I never wanted to be any of those things. I wanted to be Jane Goodall and live with the monkeys.

10) What do you think when you see the person you like?
I’m Gonna Be a Wheel Someday (Teresa James & The Rhythm Traps)
“…and then I won’t want you.”


11) What song will they play at your wedding?
Life is a Highway (Rascal Flatts)
Phew, that’s the truth—we just roll right along on that highway of life, having fun with each other. Though sometimes we have to swerve to miss the potholes.

12) What will they play at your funeral?
Eyes Down (Eels)
Creepily appropriate. Though “eyes closed” might work even better.

13) What is your hobby/interest?
Milk and Cereal (G-Love and Special Sauce)
Especially Cocoa Pebbles. But the milk MUST have choco in it or I won’t touch it.

14) What is your biggest fear?
If Only (Fiction Plane)
Another very appropriate one. I live in fear that I will pass through this earth un-noted and un-missed, and that I will lie on my deathbed, pondering all the if onlys in my life.

15) What is your biggest secret?
Chariot Race (Prince of Egypt soundtrack)
Which is the bigger secret—that I am a secret charioteer, or that I listen to the Prince of Egypt soundtrack?

16) What do you think of your friends?
Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk (Rufus Wainwright)
They are just a couple of my cravings . . . okay, I don’t smoke. But I do love chocolate—and my friends. And this song.

17) What is your theme song?
Through Heaven’s Eyes (Brian Stokes Mitchell from the Prince of Egypt soundtrack)
Whoah, another good one: “So how can you see what your life is worth?
Or where your value lies? You can never see through the eyes of man.
You must look at your life; look at your life through heaven's eyes.” This song is the reason I bought the soundtrack in the first place.

18) What do you think of your family?
Maahi Ve (“Oh Friend”) (Kal Ho Nah Ho)
My family is made up of my friends—my mom, my dad, my sister, my husband and kids—oh friends, I love you.

19) What is your best friend's theme song?
Let’s Make a Better World (Dr. John)
Shan is so good at making the world a better place. One just hears her laugh and begins to laugh with her.

20) What is your mood right now?
Kal Ho Nah Ho (Sad) (“Tomorrow May Never Come) (Kal Ho Na Ho soundtrack)
What is the deal with the “live your life with purpose” theme I've got going on here? Is God trying to tell me that I am going to be hit by a bus tomorrow? If so, I should really be doing something more important than writing a blog!

21) If your heart could talk what would it say?
Star Mile (Joshua Radin)
Um. Oka-aay. Another song about regret. ENOUGH ALREADY.

22) What do your co-workers think of you?
Kaal Dahmal (The Tiger Mix) from Kaal
I am pretty fierce.

23) What does your future look like?
Route 66 (John Mayer)
Oh, a future filled with kicks—I like that.

iluv

I took my birthday ipod out on its maiden run today (well, it was actually a maiden racewalk, but who's splitting hairs?) and I gotta say, I see what the hubbub is about, bub. Not only was it so teeny-tiny on my arm (as opposed to my previous giant dinosaur cd player belted around my waist) in its sporty little neoprene carrier, the sound was crisp and wonderful. Normally I am pretty much a strictly book-on-tape listener when I exercise, but since I haven't figured out how to download audiobooks on to my new little wonder, I decided to listen to the music on my ipod when I worked out today. Gasp! I forgot how much I liked listening to music--signs and wonders abound, mercy me. So far, I only have songs from my cd collection downloaded, so I set my darling on shuffle and was pleasantly surprised every two to four minutes. It was like hearing the voice of an old school friend chortling in my ear, to hear some of those old tunes. I was instantly transported to past places and times with each song: 6th grade, "illegally" dancing in the dorm with my teenies; working at the local video store my sophomore year of college, listening to the radio and impatiently watching the clock so I could leave the store and go smooch on my beau, Casey (almost 18 years of marriage, and he's still my beau, by the way); dancing around my mom's living room with my dead-asleep one-year old daughter in my arms, listening to that sexy new singer (from Africa, like me!), Dave Matthews--the list goes on and on.

I have a question for you old hands at the ipod exercise thing, though. How do you manage to keep yourself from breaking into dance/song whilst wrapped in the cozy arms of the little precious music machine? I had to literally chew my lips to rags to keep from singing like a goon as I walked along the streets. I had to force my feet to keep a boring cadence of left right left right when my soul wanted to cut loose and throw in a samba move or a hip shimmy. I passed other exercising ipodians, running or walking, their faces glistening with sweat, their brows creased in determination, and nary a one was singing or dancing or even looking like they were listening to anything at all. I'm pretty sure that no matter how hard I tried, my face was at least demonstrating what I was hearing--my friends claim that it is impossible for me to hide my emotions, and I have no reason to doubt them--they see my face more than I do, after all. So how? What's the secret to being a music stoic?

And more importantly, do I want really want to know?

Why I Am Here

I thought I heard a noise downstairs. I was sleeping (a perfectly reasonable thing to be doing at four in the morning), when an unfamiliar creak made my eyes fly open and my heart start beating. Instantly I realized two things at once: one, my husband had not heard anything, because he was still snoring lightly, and two, my left arm was over my head and as asleep as the buzzing man next to me. I threw my shoulder forward and my arm fell on my chest in a heavy heap of flesh. I could see, in the dim light of nighttime, my fingers curled like dead flower petals and I thought incredibly of meat. After a few minutes of bizarre, not-unpleasant tingling, my arm belonged to me again and I crept from my bed to see about that noise. I headed for the kids' rooms first, as always. (Yes, I am one of those paranoid mothers who checks on their kids a thousand times a night, even though they are not babies anymore. Sometimes I even crawl into bed beside them for a moment and curl my body around theirs, inhaling deeply, smelling their unique child smells and swearing that I WILL remember this moment, this odor, forever, then promptly forgetting upon the leaving, no matter how desperately I have tried to imprint the data on my brain.) I adjust blankets, lightly kiss foreheads, and then wander off to check the less important things (like the television and the remote control). I discover nothing, as always--it must have been the wind, or some nocturnal critter, or just this old house, metaphorically rolling over in its own deep slumber.

I am awake now. The day ahead will be a busy one--so busy that I actually had to make a list to keep it all straight. I could get a jump on the to-do-list. I could work on things that mean more, things "productive," like folding laundry or editing or balancing the checkbook or finishing that blinkin' novel already.

But I don't wanna, so that's why I'm here, with you, wasting time.

I Blinked

From these curls:

To these curls:

From kindergarten graduation (where she was the top student):

To eighth grade graduation (where she was the top student):

(Giving the valedictorian speech)

Where did the time go? I remember empty-nest mothers watching me with baby Mygirl, telling me, "You'd better enjoy every second, because you'll blink, and she'll be grown." Hard to picture, when I was walking the floor with said crying baby, thinking, "This will never end."

Dang, though--they knew what they were talking about. I blinked, and that baby became a young woman. A Christ-loving, sweet, gentle, kind, hard-working, smartasallgetout, beautiful young woman. And as my friend Shan reminded me during the grad ceremony, "Nine years went by so fast. Just imagine how quickly those four years of high school are going to go."

I would like to stop blinking, but those darn tears would just run down my face a little faster.

Beware The PMSer Bearing Fruit

I was a maniac yesterday, ya'll--a raging, grouchy, unrepentant maniac, I tell ya. After castigating my kids (who are as close to perfect as a pair can get) for a while about not getting their rooms clean, not finishing their homework, and leaving their wet bathing suits in a clump on the porch (we set up our pool Saturday--yes, I know it was only 33 degrees, but my son declared it "time," and so off they went to swim--foolish, foolish children with blue lips), I turned on my husband, railing on him for not stepping up and being the "bad guy" with them. (He has a tendency, in his easy-to-get-along-with-way, of letting ME be the meany and then he follows along and smooths everyone's feathers. Everyone's feathers but MINE, that is, because his oh-so-reasonable voice makes me want to punch his lights out.) It's not that anyone was doing anything unusual--he is always the "nice" one and lets me be the "mean" one; the kids are messy most of the time--so what the hey?

Hor.Mones. (Hmm. Separated like that is sketchy--"whore mones?") And woebetide! I am doing a detox this week, which means only fruits and veg for the next two days, then just water and juice, and then fruits and veg and nuts on Friday. Yep--it will be these craaazy hormones combined with foods I hate (I HATE fruits and veg), and no coffee (yikes! screech! GRRroooww!), and no chocolate . . .

Phew. If I were my family, I'd move to Kuwait for the week.

Wherein I Reflect On The Word "Christians"

The people I like the most are those who are comfortable in their skins. I love those folks who have a certain dorky quality and you know what? They're okay with it. I would much rather spend my time with them, giggling at their not-quite-kosher-for-the-general-public behavior, than spend an evening with Mr. and Ms. flashy-perfect-we-are-so-carefully-crafted-for-your-looking-pleasure-but-don't-drop-us-in-a-puddle-or-we'll-drown-for-sure. Or worst of all, have to break bread with those "super-Christians" who pepper every conversation with their shallow observations in "Christianese" ("God is so good! He is so great! He has made this fork and plate!") yet treat their fellow humans like utter crap if they don't seem to fit their agendas. Self-righteous, pompous in their attitudes and actions, they are the people who Christ describes as cups that look clean on the outside but whoah Nelly!--don't look inside because the grubbiness will make you sick. (Obviously, this is my paraphrase: the reference is Matthew 23:25-28, if you want the full version). Tombs, he called them, which look beautiful on the outside but are filled with the decaying, unclean bones of the dead. To them, I'd like to say: Listen. It's great that you like Christian rock and that you claim the Bible and The Purpose Driven Life as your only reading material (The Office quote alert). But until I see you treating those who need you like you've actually PICKED UP that Bible and read it in a while, I'm not impressed. And just because I don't really like Christian rock does not mean I'm not a follower of Christ. I'm pretty sure Jesus didn't listen to Christian rock, either.

*Shudder* No wonder so many people are afraid of Christians--if we had to act like that, then I wouldn't want to be one, either.

If you're under the impression I'm bitter (cough, cough), let me say that luckily, I think better of most people. For example: I know this one guy who sings old Boston tunes at the top of his lungs around the office late at night, when he thinks no one is around to hear. A bit of a goof? Yes. But he's what I call a Christian--he's kind, thoughtful, interested in others and shows it. And I've never seen the boy try to put on airs for any.body. I HAVE broken bread with him, and I can say he unabashedly seems to love Christ, and that is that. It is who is he is, not who he pretends to be.

Gosh, do I love that quality.

Or what about that couple in church who, the instant I met them, made me feel completely comfortable to be around them. Sure, he's nerdy and she's...er...well, she's great, but man! When they see me coming, a warm smile spreads across their faces and I can tell they mean it. The joy of the Lord is in the very skin they wear over their skulls.

Yep, I'd join their club in a red-hot minute. Sign me up for this brand of Christianity any day.

There are also those I've met who are "quiet" Christians--we've never discussed their spirituality, but by their fruits, I know them. And those fruits are sweet.

I have just a few close friends, and I think the reason I've stayed friends with them so long is because they are genuine. They are the same when they are with me out on the town as they are on Sunday mornings (well, maybe a little less loud, but still the same gals). I know what to expect from them. They're not perfect but they are real. And lovely. And witty. And entertaining. And loving. And they want to be Christ-followers all the way down to their actual bones, caring not at all if other people notice; they're only focused on Christ's notice. The blessing is, people DO notice. And are drawn to them like kids to a pool. These women are my heroes, the kind of people I want to be like when I grow up. (Oh, all right--I am older than some of them. But you get my point.) And bonus!--they seem to like me just the way I am. Which is vital, 'cause I don't see me changing my dorky old self for anyone.

As our favorite Bible study guru, Beth Moore (another one of my favorite real persons in the wide, wide world) would say, "Can I get an 'amen?' Somebody say 'amen.'"

Because I Still Have Seventy Pages To Edit . . .

. . . I'll leave this with you. I'd never heard this one before. Let me reiterate--I LOVE THESE FELLAS!!