As we were sitting at the dinner table, I was telling my husband that someone we know just had a colonoscopy. (Perhaps not the most pleasant thing to talk about at the dinner table but hey, if the kids happen to be quiet for a moment—because they’re shoving food into their faces—you just take advantage of the moment, ya know?)

A few minutes into our conversation my husband says, “Oh, I remember I had to get my colon checked when I had an ulcer. I remember I had to drink barium.”

Two-year-old son pipes up, “Why did you have to bury him, dad?”

I’ve seen the following on several blogs and I thought I’d try it myself. That’s right. I’m copying and not giving credit because I don’t know to whom credit is due and I can’t remember at this moment where I saw it anyway. If this is your brainchild, please say “I” lest I be accused of bad blog etiquette.

Here’s what I was doing…

Yesterday. That would be Monday, August 29, 2005. Mondays are Brian’s day off (and much needed after all the hoopla on Sundays). I was feeling a little under the weather so I avoided as much activity as possible. My big accomplishment of the day was starting and finishing the book Faithful Women & Their Extraordinary God by Noel Piper. If you’re not going to read that book, don’t talk to me.

A week ago. That was Tuesday, August 23, 2005. Last Tuesday’s highlight was receiving some rather bittersweet news. Sorry to be cryptic. I’m sure I’ll expound in a later post.

A month ago. That would be July 2005. The highlight from last month was the visit we received from my parents and my stud-muffin brother. Let me take this opportunity to say a word about my brother. He’s cute. He’s buff. He rows (crew) and he’ll be at the Naval Academy this time next year if all goes according to plan. After that he’ll become the President of the United States or something. I know there are many young women out there (you know who you are) that have the hots for Mike. And heck, if I was 17 (and unrelated, of course), I would too. But I’m sorry to say you’ll have to look elsewhere. Mike won’t be dating until he’s 43.

OK, so as I said, my parents visited. The main reason we like them to visit is because they babysit the kids as much as we want. FOR FREE. Second, my dad is very handy and does all kinds of whatnot around the house. This time we got a hole knocked in the wall between the kitchen and living room. BIG improvement. Thanks dad. Oh yeah, my parents are very cool so we like spending time with them too.

A year ago. A year ago was August of 2004. If I look back at my calendar I can’t say there was too much excitement. I suppose the biggest thing was attending the Women of Faith conference in Buffalo, NY. The highlight from the conference was hearing Natalie Grant sing It is Well With My Soul, a cappella. It is Well With My Soul is my second most favorite song of all time (How Great Thou Art is the first—I’m a sucker for a good hymn) and girlfriend can SING!

Oh yeah, another highlight on August 19, 2004—I read my gas and electric meters by myself.

5 years ago. 5 years ago was August of 2000. Hmmmm. I think by that time I had finally gotten out of my pajamas after having given birth to my first child in June of that year. Let’s just say it was a difficult adjustment. Well, that’s a bit of an understatement because saying it was a “difficult adjustment” is like saying it would be only “slightly uncomfortable” to watch as 50 million leeches sucked the life out of you until there was nothing left but your big toe and your left eye.

10 years ago. August of 1995. In August of 1995, I had just arrived in Jerusalem to study for a year at the Hebrew University. I was in the throes of the “Ulpan” which was an 8-week Hebrew intensive course before our normal classes began in September. I’m afraid I didn’t do well in the course and I didn’t learn a whole lot of Hebrew. Loved Israel though.

On August 21 1995, I was on a city bus which was taking me from my dorm room to my Hebrew class. I distinctly remember sitting on the bus, frantically trying to finish the Hebrew homework that had been assigned the day before. At one point during our bus ride I just remember hearing a multitude of sirens. They seemed to be coming from every direction and the sound was deafening. I looked up from my homework, out the window, and there was massive chaos everywhere. My fellow passengers began yelling and screaming until the bus driver turned on the radio at which point an eerie silence settled on the bus. I couldn’t understand anything because it was all in Hebrew. Finally, some kind soul who spoke English filled me in…approximately two stops ahead on our route—a stop we would have been at in less than two or three minutes—a man got on a city bus exactly like the one I was on and promptly blew himself up, killing several people (including another American also on her way to the Hebrew University) and injuring dozens more. Welcome to Israel.

1. I’m in a funk. “Purpose” is elusive at the moment.

2. I would be totally bummed if I was Hosea and God told me to marry a prostitute.

3. It’s a good thing God knows what He’s doing.

Blogging is a weird form of communication. (By the way, for those of you who don’t realize it, what you’re reading is a blog.) It’s mostly one-sided of course. In fact, the majority of the time I feel like I’m just talking to myself. What’s really interesting is that it’s like I’m talking to myself but I’m doing it in front of the world. Kind of like those scenes in the movies where a psychiatric patient is put in a room by themselves and then there’s a second room full of people standing behind one-way glass “observing” said psychiatric patient. Creepy, no? And what makes it creepier is to think that I KNOW THERE ARE PEOPLE WATCHING ME AND I AM FREE TO LEAVE THIS ROOM AT ANY TIME AND YET I CHOOSE TO STAY.

Hmmm. But now I understand why my mother, when I explained a blog to her, crumpled up her face, furrowed her brow, made me think she wanted to curl up in the fetal position and said, “Oh Aim. Don’t you feel…exposed?” Funny, though—she thinks I’m a nut for blogging and yet it doesn’t stop her from reading the darn thing. Now that’s unconditional love people.

So.

I’ve got issues. Well, I thought I did anyway. Apparently the issues I’ve spent so much time and energy working through for 20-some-odd years were really never issues in the first place.

I just finished talking to my aunt—the one on whom I hung up the phone the day my brother died. She gave me her version of the events that happened on that fateful day (which were, by the way, corroborated by my mother) and the bottom line is, the things I remember happening never really happened. No, the entire sequence of events was entirely different than I thought.

No, I did not hang up the phone (which I have always believed prevented the emergency vehicles from arriving in time to save my brother). In fact, according to her, I was playing OUTSIDE IN THE BACKYARD when my brother was found not breathing and when said phone call was made.

So good. Now I’m TOTALLY off the hook for thinking I killed my brother at age three. I guess that’s positive. The problem is, I’ve used that event as the explanation for all my anxiety, obsession and negativity ever since. So…if all my crap can no longer be blamed on that, I am forced to ask myself once again: WHAT IS MY PROBLEM ANYWAY?

And another thing. I’m a little ticked I spent so much money on a year and a half of therapy dealing with an issue that was never really an issue. There must be someone I can sue.

I’m happy to report we have made it back from a very long week and a half of galavanting around the nation.

First we spent a few days in Annapolis, MD with some longtime friends. Ours is a relationship of iron sharpening iron and I think we’re all the better for it.

Next we flew to California to attend the funeral of my grandfather-in-law.

I share my reflections:

1. God bless the person who, during Jet Blue’s startup phase said, “Hey, I’ve got an idea, let’s put a TV at each seat!”
2. Parents with small children should be exempt from adhering to time differences between time zones.
3. I love the family I married into. They love and accept me as though I’ve been a part of them always, they smother me with hugs and kisses and they cook the best food known to man—ribs, hot links, pound cake, fried chicken, real mac & cheese, collard greens…absolutely yum.
4. Granddaddy’s funeral was the best I’ve ever been to. He knew Jesus, he was 96, he lived a full life—it was a celebration.
5. There’s nothin’ like the Pacific Ocean.
6. Much to my surprise, I can survive without the internet. Consequently, I’ve decided I spend entirely too much time on the computer in my regular life. Will do my best to change this. Will try to get out more.

Next item on the agenda: a boatload of laundry.

If you’re a PW (Pastor’s Wife), God bless ya. It ain’t easy girls. At this very moment, I’m personally NOT loving it. I suspect this will change (hopefully soon) but right now here’s my question: Is an extra jewel in my crown really worth all the pain?

Anyway, Just Between Us magazine is especially for those of us nuts enough to jump into this line of work.

Every once in a while JBU conducts a survey of PW’s and publishes the stats proving just how freakish we are. OK, not really.

Read the article to see how normal you are.

It’s hard to believe, but we actually have friends who want to spend time with us (go figure), so we are goin’ on a trip (also hard to believe).

Just when we get back, we’ll turn around and fly out to B’s grandfather’s funeral.

I don’t know what our travels will bring in the way of blogging time, but I anticipate my posts being slightly intermittent for the next week and a half or so.

I thought I’d warn you lest you thought I had finally reached the end of my rope with this Pastor’s Wife Gig and blew this popsicle stand once and for all.

Don’t think I haven’t thought about it though.

As I’ve said before, I’ve got issues—too numerous to count really.

One that is particularly distressing, however, is rather embarrassing and not something discussed openly very often. But, since I am among friends, I feel comfortable sharing with you this rather annoying problem of mine.

I’m talking about underarm odor.

Some of us sweat more than others you know. I happen to live with someone (that would be my husband) who does not sweat as much as yours truly. I have a BIG problem with this. It just plain ticks me off. But anyway…

Below is the tip I offer to you today. To all you fellow stinkers out there, take heed.

By the way, I can’t take credit for this tip because I read it somewhere—not sure where—but it works…most of the time. Also, it’s cheap, which I like very much.

So, here’s my paraphrase on whatever tidbit I read, wherever I read it:

We all produce sweat under the arms. And did you know that sweat, in it’s purest form, does not smell? It’s true! The odor with which we are so familiar is only generated when our pure, odorless sweat meets the mean, nasty bacteria on our skin.

Sidenote: GOD BLESS THE SOUL THAT DISCOVERED THIS FACT! Knowing this has changed my life in a very small but meaningful way. I was so happy to hear that the offensive smell which radiates from my being is not my fault at all, but that of those DUMB bacteria. I like it when things aren’t my fault.

So. To combat the problem of underarm odor, wipe down your underarm with rubbing alcohol to kill those menacing bacteria so when your non-smelling sweat makes its way to your skin, there will be no bacteria with whom to tango, leaving you smelling…like nothing!

You’ll be surprised at how well this works—not 100% in my case, but surprisingly well nonetheless.

Special note to women: I wouldn’t recommend using the rubbing alcohol immediately after shaving. You’ll find it…well…slightly uncomfortable.

I found my way over to this list of tips & tricks thanks to lifehacker.com.

Some I found helpful:

• 126. To clean your diamond rings. Use toothpaste with an old tooth brush, rub rinse and let dry.
• 176. When you need soft butter quick. If your butter is frozen, grate it, it’s the same as soft butter.
• 154. Get rid of knots on sweaters. Just rub a piece of sandpaper over sweater.
• 197. Get rid of cooking odours. Boil hand full of cloves in water for 30 minutes. All odours will disappear.