Flashback Friday-VBS Style

Did your family attend church when you were growing up? What are your earliest memories of church? Did you attend VBS (Vacation Bible School) when you were young? Sunday School? Other church activities? Was faith a Sunday-only thing or did it impact your life and the things you did? If faith and church were not a part of your growing-up years, when and how did you begin and what drew you to God?

Besides coming home from the hospital, the first place my parents took me was to church. My very earliest memories include the church grounds, classrooms, and the family of people I grew up amongst there.

I have a couple of photos to share, but they are of "Old Fashioned Days," so I'll have to wait to share those until they fit the topic. And boy-howdy, they are doozies.

VBS was an annual event for me, and I can still recall songs and Bible verses I learned at VBS. One song included a stop sign held up by the worship leader at just the moment we were supposed to sing "STOP! and let me tell you, what the Lord has done for meeeee." True to kid form, most of us yelled it out. You can see that any unsuspecting average Joe would definitely STOP in his tracks and turn from his wicked ways when a group of 100 kids yelled this song at him. Very effective evangelization.

Another vivid memory is of color-coded items like pencils which prompted you to remember the essence of Christian theology: black for sin, red for blood redemption, white for purity, etc.

I didn't always want to come in from playing and get cleaned up to go VBS every night, but once I got there, I was fine. I usually excelled at memorization if not singing, and so I won some awards, I'm sure.

But the best time of all was when we went outside for a break, where we would see a couple of long tables set up with various kinds of homemade cookies, paper napkins and cups of Koolaid, for some reason, usually grape flavored. My mom was not a baker, so these cookies were other-worldly treats. If I got really lucky, she would bring no-bakes, and I would get an extra.

Then we would play games outside. One impromptu game included rolling down a small hill on our church's property, log-roll style. The only problem was that I attended a church where all females wore skirts, so you can see that it became problematic to keep your skirt down at your sides and log roll, because with your hands glued to your sides, you just might log roll your face into a rock or brier weed.

So I remember the year my mom allowed me to wear shorts under my skirt.

Big doin's, that was.

I still have a fondness for the simplicity of my VBS experiences: no fancy puppets, videos or curricula. Just simple flannel graph lessons, crafts, including macaroni spray-painted gold glued to orange juice cans and bars of soap turned into sailboats, some foil stars to mark achievement, and a feeling of safety and security in the realm of my little church world, which was my second home.

Thanks for the memories, Lid! Maybe my grandchild will enjoy reading this someday!

If I Put It Under My Pillow ...

Well, this riveting story will teach those unfollowers I spoke of earlier not to unfollow ME:

Remember the dental cap story from the other day?

My temporary cap popped off tonight following a trip to Sbux.

I was driving down the THE busiest street in out town when out plopped a "tooth," just like when you're 10 and the last string of flesh snaps and you've suddenly got a tooth on your tongue or in your hand, only I'm 47 and so it's not cute and no one said "good job," and I doubt that if I put it under my pillow anything good will follow, like cold hard cash or a cute pair of sandals under my pillow in the morning.

So now I definitely cannot throw back my head and unlatch my jaw in a Julia Roberts laugh until I see my dentist again. I will be at his doorstep bright and early tomorrow morning.

That is all.

Sorry to be so brief, but I had to put a cap on this story.

A Strange Thing Happens When I Write ...

So I decided recently to breathe life back into this blog and post regularly this week.

Guess what? I lost three followers.

Completely cracks me up.

If I never posted again, I might be so popular I'd win an award and get my own TV show, on the Silent Channel.

New Summer Favorite: Limeshake Slushie

It's low-fat, it's cold, and it's limey. It's more like a slushie than a milkshake because it's not creamy. It's icy.

And I can't get enough.

Ingredients:

1/2 c. of frozen lime-ade right out of can (or less if you'd like a milder lime)
1/2 c. lime sherbet
1/2 c. skim milk
couple of ice cubes

Blend.
Sip.
Love.

I think the total calories is about 185, and the fat is nearly 0%.

If you're like me and also love the coconut, you could add a couple of tablespoons, if you don't mind the extra calories. The combination reminds me of that old song, "Put the Lime in the Coconut," only in reverse.

WWJD ... What Would Jillian Demand?

There's my ticker. And I'm telling YOU about it.

Ruh-roh. Now it's set it stone.

Yes, I purchased Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred because I've been wanting to beat myself up lately, especially since I dropped my phone in the ocean and my camera twice and killed it.

So, you know, I might as well shred myself.

You all know I love to run. [And let me plug the best blogger-mom-runner blog in the Uni: See My Mom Run! written by Melanie Dorsey, who has a great story to share; go visit her even if you're not into running.]

But running works the big ol' hinder muscles and leg muscles. It doesn't do much for noodle arms or arms that veterans mistakenly grab and wave at parades.

And the midsection, known in the exercise world as the "core," well, it could use a little attention, too.

So I picked Jillian up, half excited with anticipation, half scared, because, well, I'm a fan of Biggest Loser, and she is mean, er, tough.

So for 10 days, I do level one. Then I begin level 2 and continue for 10 days. Level 3 for 10 days follows, and voila, I am shredded into tiny ribbons that will have to be paper mached back together.

Here is a visual to make my point.











Today was Day 3, and I'm feeling it, but by golly, I don't wimp out because I believe she SEES me through that screen.

So for the next 30 days, mentally, I'm wearing a bracelet that says WWJD, and you know what that will be representing. (see post title)

And above all, I will remember this gem of wisdom which I've had in my sidebar for months:

25th Anniversary Siesta Key Pics

First of all, if you are uncomfortable seeing Jorge the Jabanero and me in swimsuits, look away. If you are going to criticize my choice to post swimsuit pics, just grumble to yourself, please. I've been working long and hard to get to the place where I could wear a two-piece in public, and I was celebrating the achievement when I was down there. Do not rain on my parade. Just know that I automatically know some will not approve. I'm not losing sleep over it.

All we did was lounge/play games on the beach, eat, sleep. That is it. If you're looking for sight-seeing pics, these will bore you. We basically took pics of the beach, each other, and some food.

It was the best vacation we ever had.

Do you see Sarasota there? That's where we were. No tar balls on the beach. They migrated north.



The flowers you'll see were waiting for me at the condo from Jorge. That was a NICE touch.

The sand was pure white, soft as baby powder.

Did I mention it was the best vacation we've ever had?

Sigh. Here ya go, if you're interested.

Please Call Me "Princess," For I Have a Crown

I feel like a princess, a princess with a swollen, droopy face and pulsating gums. I had a tooth crowned today.

You know, it really irks me to have to report that. All of my life, I have had great teeth, only a couple of cavities very early on. The rest of my dental visits have been, "Wham, bam, floss it, Ma'am," and I'm outta there.

Apparently, my teeth, they are ... getting tired. In fact, one upper molar on my right side cracked under all the pressure of trying to stay as young as other teeth, and so I had to have a crown.

The process for getting a crown can be drilled down to 10 simple steps: (Ha. That's a little dental humor.)

1. Look at the assistant with an expression so full of terror that she strokes your shoulder gently as if you are four years old.

2. Get some giant, humongous injections that don't even look like they could be real but could only be a movie prop but turn out to be real.

3. Look at the assistant and make your eyes somehow cry, "Mommy."

4. Have 2 millimeters of your enamel drilled away until you have a stump left. Yes, they call it a "stump." This is not my mouth, but this is a good before and after shot.

5. Get some more shots because you are "burning off" your numbness by being so tense.

6. Get some thread shoved under the gum for some reason that they explain but you can't hear because you are nervously burning off your anesthesia.

7. Make some bite impressions on some material.

8. Get some touch up with the drill. ("Mommy.")

9. Get a temporary cap sealed on with temporary cement.

10. Have a single tear drop out of the outside corner of your eye and some water drip from your numb nose and mouth onto your paper bib, just for that touch of "insult to injury."

One of the most surreal moments was when the doc and assistant (I don't know what her official title is) were trying to decide what shade of fake enamel to order my real cap in. They were holding up little fake teeth to my molar, which of course necessitated pulling my jaw way back for quite a while as they debated which colors suited me best.

For a moment, I felt as though I were in the optometrist's chair: "Is 1 better, or 2?" "Two ... or 3? "Which is better, 2 or 1?" I had no say in this.

That went on for quite a while.

Then the dentist used a big ol' camera to take some pictures with the fake teeth held up next to my teeth. Coincidentally, guess what song was playing during the practice paparazzi test? Paul Simon's "Kodachrome."

Now, I think if I were a regular on a red carpet in Hollywood, I might have to worry about how my new tooth in the back of my mouth blended in with my other teeth because I might smile like Julia Roberts when she throws back her head and unlatches her jaw, but since I mainly stuff envelopes on an industrial grade brown carpet, there was really no need for the paparazzi test.

And although this isn't on the list, the next thing I did was go to work, attend a meeting with one side of my face trying to slide down to my shoulder and then try to answer the phone without sounding drunk, which is important when you answer the phone for a church.

Finally, I would like to say that both assistants and my dentist are awesome. Truly. And I'm not just saying that because one of them said she has read my blog.

But that did make me smile. In a swollen, droopy face-pulsating gum kind of way.

Too Much of a Tan is a BAAAD Thing -or- Just Call Me Magda

Here she is, one of my favorite supporting role characters, Magda, from Something About Mary.

Magda is Mary's neighbor with a heart of gold and a head of peroxide, a middle aged, too-blonde, too-tanned woman, the woman I'm always secretly afraid I'm going to end up looking like because Magdas DO exist. I can think of one I know personally right at this moment. Yikes.

Looky, she even has a little dog she dotes on.

Gulp.

At least I don't smoke.



But I can see a big difference, already, in my skin since I returned from beautiful, heavenly Florida. The lines are more prominent around my mouth. You know those lines, "Smokers' Lines," even though, as I said, I don't smoke. They're the lines your lipstick likes to bleed into as you age.

Yikes again.

The thing is, I'm pretty diligent, yea, even vigilant, about not tanning my face so much. Just a few minutes of sun is all it is allowed, and then I slather on SPF #Kryptonite--complete block. But guess what? Those rays still get through. Turns out SPF 30 is about as reliable as condoms.

Did I just say that on this blog?

Anyway, as I type this, I'm also packing (I have eight arms) for a weekend away with my girlfriends from Wednesday night Girls' Group. You can bet I'm packing the sun block because we will spend a lot of our time on a boat, singing along with the likes of Steely Dan, Earth, Wind & Fire, and Stevie Wonder. Guess that tells you the average age, doesn't it.

Here are the girls I'm going with, and I can't wait, but I have to also say that we will miss Diane, who loved the water and going with this group to this lake so much.

I'm sure we will toast her and sing some Abba just for her!

I'm Still Processing, But I Do Have SOMETHING to Share

I'm still processing my trip and getting used to being back in the saddle again. I have been to Walmart. I have seen Stick Man (Have I told you about Stick Man?) and I have now gone back to work as of today.

When I last sat at my desk, my computer was slower than molasses through a straw. I couldn't wait to leave it behind, along with other everyday annoyances. However, when you run away from a problem, you always have to face it again at some point, and so it was with the computer.

It would not boot up today. AARGH! I was so frustrated! I thought, "WHY does this have to happen to me? Why couldn't I just come back here and start up a normal day? Why did I have to face a problem first thing? HOW LONG O LORD?" And then I realized: someone had turned off my monitor while I was gone.

So, you know. Never mind and all that.

Yesterday, I pointed you toward vinegar. Today, I point you toward money.

Free money.

I went to "Unclaimed Money, Indiana" and searched my name. Turns out I can quit my job and go live on the beach because I'm owed the stunning sum of ....

Wait for it ...

$22.48.

Yes, Two-Two-Four-Eight. Twentah-Too, Fortah-Eight. Who do we appreciate? Unclaimed Money, that's who!!

I have no idea what/who/how. I just know I found $22.48 in my pocket book, so to speak.

WOWZERS!

So you should check, too, to see if your state is holding your pocketbook for you while you went to the powder room. You never know what might have fallen out!

A New Blog Which Actually Has a Purpose and Helps People, Etc.

I watched a little girl who attended my church grow right on up into young womanhood, and then she got married, moved away, had a couple of babies. She started blogging. Today's post? Vinegar. Check it out: Just Trying to Live Better. She's a displaced Munsonian in ... TEXAS, which is only bloggers' mecca, for goodness sakes. Please check it out and say hello for me! We all enjoy those comments -- remember when YOU started blogging??

Happy vinegaring! ?

Pictures of vacay to come soon! Back to work tomorrow. Jorge is out of town all week. Talk soon!

Still on Vacay, But Look! Something Nice Happened to Me Today

Melanie at See My Mom Run was brave enough to publish my thoughts on running on her sweet blog. I'm still on vacation, so I can't go on and on here about how much I enjoy Melanie on Facebook and in her blog writing, but she is exceptional; you should check her out. And now I have to get off of here or Jorge will send me a menacing "why are you blogging while we're on our 2nd honeymoon" look.

By the way, having a great time. Planning on returning to home to Indiana when I have a grandchild to see, which could be a while. Daughter #1 says that is fine with her as long as we keep paying the mortgage. That stinker.

The Office Assistant/Blogger Has Left the Building

I started to say "It's that time of year again," referring to vacation time, but we don't necessarily take annual vacations.

And it has been about 15 years since Jorge and I went away together for an extended period of time.

But by the time you read this, Jorge and I will be on our way to beautiful Siesta Key, Florida, for our 2nd honeymoon, a 25th anniversary celebration.

I'm having a little trouble getting started packing, and that is why I'm sitting here with you now.

I think the older I get, the more difficult it is to get up and go, you know what I mean?

I just told my mom goodbye on the phone. She was shocked that we are leaving, even though I was just plucking her eyebrows at her house last night telling her all about Siesta Key and definitely told her when we were leaving. I felt a little sorry for her and told her I would call when we get there. That made her feel better.

And then she asked me, "Are you going to take shorts?"

I have no idea why she would ask that, except we had already been over the speech where she worries out loud and she couldn't think of anything else to say.

She worries, you know.

Did I mention my baby girl is at Myrtle Beach with a friend as I type this? I had to have a little talk with her before she left.

I worry, you know.

I didn't ask her if she had packed shorts.

See you all soon--lots of beach pics to follow, I hope!