It must be nice to be 91 and be able to say anything you want.
Today:
"Elizabeth, I told you you would get hurt. You have to be healthy and in shape to play sports" - on my kickball accident.
"Little ole Kathryn looked so nice last night. She was wearing a blouse that buttoned up, and she wasn't exposed at all. I think she did it, you know, for the old people" - on my sister's clothing choice for the family reunion dinner at the Roanoker.
"At my age, the only thing I need to buy is an urn to put my ashes in... Come to think of it, I have an old can my sister used to be in. We can just use that." - on why he didn't want to check out the sale at the local men's clothing store.
You just never know what you are going to get!
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
MVP Announces Retirement
Brew Crew Kickball Game 2: 6 - 3 VICTORY!
A recap... (Disclaimer, for those of you who actually saw it live, I know this post will not do it justice. I hope you will still enjoy re-living my moment of glory.)
Since our last game, I have been running with some frequency; so I went into last night with a little extra confidence about my ability to make it to first base this time. I should have known this would not be the case when, after my first round "up to bat," I sprinted not just to first base, but on to second base too. You can imagine my humility when my fist pumps and cheers were then interrupted by the referee and my teammates sending me back to homeplate. As it turned out, my "double" was really "strike one" and all my running was in vain. That strike quickly turned into an out and back to the dug-out I went.
Now, by the time the line-up had cycled and I was up again, I had resolved to redeem myself. Things were looking good until our trusty (and always encouraging) Coach Bono said to me: "Elizabeth, you run half way and then just GIVE UP." Now it was on.
So... here's the scene as best I can describe it.
The kickball rolls toward me.
I stand still.
I allow the ball to just barely bounce off of my foot (as I had been instructed to do) for a VERY non-eventful bunt.
I RUN. I RUN as hard as I can. I RUN until the front of my body begins to slope awkwardly over my legs.
The first-basemen catches the ball and tags the base.
My feet are moving faster than the rest of me.
I realize I cannot stop.
I face dive OVER first base.
I land flat on my stomach and BOUNCE several times, before rolling to a stop.
I am covered in dirt.
I am mortified.
I am out.
Today, despite being awarded MVP of the game for my dedication to the sport and willingness to literally DIE for the cause, I announce my retirement from kickball. Let's face it - it is just not meant to be. I have the bruises and bumps to proove it.
A recap... (Disclaimer, for those of you who actually saw it live, I know this post will not do it justice. I hope you will still enjoy re-living my moment of glory.)
Since our last game, I have been running with some frequency; so I went into last night with a little extra confidence about my ability to make it to first base this time. I should have known this would not be the case when, after my first round "up to bat," I sprinted not just to first base, but on to second base too. You can imagine my humility when my fist pumps and cheers were then interrupted by the referee and my teammates sending me back to homeplate. As it turned out, my "double" was really "strike one" and all my running was in vain. That strike quickly turned into an out and back to the dug-out I went.
Now, by the time the line-up had cycled and I was up again, I had resolved to redeem myself. Things were looking good until our trusty (and always encouraging) Coach Bono said to me: "Elizabeth, you run half way and then just GIVE UP." Now it was on.
So... here's the scene as best I can describe it.
The kickball rolls toward me.
I stand still.
I allow the ball to just barely bounce off of my foot (as I had been instructed to do) for a VERY non-eventful bunt.
I RUN. I RUN as hard as I can. I RUN until the front of my body begins to slope awkwardly over my legs.
The first-basemen catches the ball and tags the base.
My feet are moving faster than the rest of me.
I realize I cannot stop.
I face dive OVER first base.
I land flat on my stomach and BOUNCE several times, before rolling to a stop.
I am covered in dirt.
I am mortified.
I am out.
Today, despite being awarded MVP of the game for my dedication to the sport and willingness to literally DIE for the cause, I announce my retirement from kickball. Let's face it - it is just not meant to be. I have the bruises and bumps to proove it.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Drug Dogs
You know your day is going to be off to a good start when it begins with a police officer interrupting class to ask everyone to leave their belongings and evacuate the room...
In come the drug dogs... And, as we stand out in the hall - my little 14 year old students panicked at what might be found - I actually began to notice MY heart beating faster and my palms sweating just a bit! WHAT? I obviously do not do drugs. In fact, even as an adult I'm scared to death of even being around drugs. But yet, in this moment, thoughts were actually running through my head like "What if someone has slipped drugs into my purse?" "What if I AM actually doing drugs and I don't know it?"
Honestly... what is wrong with me?
This reminded me of a time back in high school when I got a phone call from the "girl doctor" asking me to call her back after my annual check-up. I was more pure than soap, but my immediate concern was: "Is there ANY human way I am pregnant?" I worried about this ALL weekend - even after my sister Kathryn's assurance that I COULD NOT be pregnant unless I was the second Virgin Mary - until the doctor finally told me on Monday that everything looked normal.
I absolutely LOVE rules. I don't even drive down lanes with an arrow pointing the wrong way at Walmart. In fact, one of our favorite family stories involves a preschool me refusing to talk to Poppy on a walk downtown because my teacher had told me "not to talk to strangers." (I'm sure he was less than amused when my betrayal forced him to look like a creeper following little kids walking on a rope.)
I'm as straight-laced as they come (incredible boring, but true), so why do I still worry so much about getting in trouble? Is this some kind of disorder?
Anyways, no drugs found in my classroom today. As it turns out, I am NOT actually doing drugs against my will and bringing them to school. Go figure!
In come the drug dogs... And, as we stand out in the hall - my little 14 year old students panicked at what might be found - I actually began to notice MY heart beating faster and my palms sweating just a bit! WHAT? I obviously do not do drugs. In fact, even as an adult I'm scared to death of even being around drugs. But yet, in this moment, thoughts were actually running through my head like "What if someone has slipped drugs into my purse?" "What if I AM actually doing drugs and I don't know it?"
Honestly... what is wrong with me?
This reminded me of a time back in high school when I got a phone call from the "girl doctor" asking me to call her back after my annual check-up. I was more pure than soap, but my immediate concern was: "Is there ANY human way I am pregnant?" I worried about this ALL weekend - even after my sister Kathryn's assurance that I COULD NOT be pregnant unless I was the second Virgin Mary - until the doctor finally told me on Monday that everything looked normal.
I absolutely LOVE rules. I don't even drive down lanes with an arrow pointing the wrong way at Walmart. In fact, one of our favorite family stories involves a preschool me refusing to talk to Poppy on a walk downtown because my teacher had told me "not to talk to strangers." (I'm sure he was less than amused when my betrayal forced him to look like a creeper following little kids walking on a rope.)
I'm as straight-laced as they come (incredible boring, but true), so why do I still worry so much about getting in trouble? Is this some kind of disorder?
Anyways, no drugs found in my classroom today. As it turns out, I am NOT actually doing drugs against my will and bringing them to school. Go figure!
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Kickball Update
Brew Crew Game 1:
6 - 3
VICTORY!
- I never made it to first base!
- My abs are incredibly sore today. I can only assume that this from kicking the bouncy red ball a total of three times, since this is all I did. That is just sad. Work out plan starts today.
- Yes, the name of our team is "The Brew Crew," enough said.
6 - 3
VICTORY!
- I never made it to first base!
- My abs are incredibly sore today. I can only assume that this from kicking the bouncy red ball a total of three times, since this is all I did. That is just sad. Work out plan starts today.
- Yes, the name of our team is "The Brew Crew," enough said.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Role Reversal
This morning I woke up to find Addy laying flat on her back with her head on a pillow and all four legs straight up in the air next to Jeff in our bed. I, on the other hand, was curled up in a ball at the foot of the bed. Hmm...
What has my life come to?
What has my life come to?
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Weekend in the Woods
Well, I survived two nights in the woods with pit toilets!
This weekend, Jeff, Addy, & I went camping with a group of friends from church in Brevard, North Carolina. As you might have guessed, a tent on wet grass isn't really my style, but I honestly had a blast. The campsite was absolutely beautiful; we hiked to some incredible waterfalls, ate some good smores and dogs, and I LOVED sitting around a fire with friends and the music of our new friend "Bean" on the banjo. Maybe I can be a camper after all!
This weekend, Jeff, Addy, & I went camping with a group of friends from church in Brevard, North Carolina. As you might have guessed, a tent on wet grass isn't really my style, but I honestly had a blast. The campsite was absolutely beautiful; we hiked to some incredible waterfalls, ate some good smores and dogs, and I LOVED sitting around a fire with friends and the music of our new friend "Bean" on the banjo. Maybe I can be a camper after all!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Summer School Blues
Well, summer school is officially underway now. I met my twenty-two darlings on Tuesday and we've enjoyed a wonderful 18 hours together so far. A few highlights:
- I have to wear a headset/microphone (picture Britney Spears) all day so that one of my students with a hearing impairment can hear me. The rest of the students just get magnified snorts and grunts as I struggle with allergies. (I will try to post a picture of me in my rockstar headgear later.)
- My old high school principal is the Summer School principal this year. She keeps calling me "Missy" (I don't know why) and on the first day she literally paraded me across the stage of the auditorium to "introduce" me to the students. She did not do this to any of the other teachers.
-Today I said, "That's the way I like it!" in response to the class getting settled and quiet quickly. To which, an unknown voice yelled out, "That's what she said." Awesome. Nothing like a little sexual reference to get the morning started.
In other news:
Congratulations to our friends Tzu and Diana who just got engaged! Yay weddings!
More updates soon. Stay tuned for details from our camping trip and the start of our rec kickball league season...
- I have to wear a headset/microphone (picture Britney Spears) all day so that one of my students with a hearing impairment can hear me. The rest of the students just get magnified snorts and grunts as I struggle with allergies. (I will try to post a picture of me in my rockstar headgear later.)
- My old high school principal is the Summer School principal this year. She keeps calling me "Missy" (I don't know why) and on the first day she literally paraded me across the stage of the auditorium to "introduce" me to the students. She did not do this to any of the other teachers.
-Today I said, "That's the way I like it!" in response to the class getting settled and quiet quickly. To which, an unknown voice yelled out, "That's what she said." Awesome. Nothing like a little sexual reference to get the morning started.
In other news:
Congratulations to our friends Tzu and Diana who just got engaged! Yay weddings!
More updates soon. Stay tuned for details from our camping trip and the start of our rec kickball league season...
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Awkward Social Networking
Earlier this week, Jeff and I decided we would attend a "networking" event tonight hosted by a group for young professionals in Roanoke that we recently joined. This is not our usual scene, but we decided it would be a good opportunity to meet some new people and enjoy a free beer from a local microbrewery. (www.roanokerailhouse.com - if you are interested.)
Anyways, around six this evening I wasn't feeling it, but Jeff so wisely said to me, "Elizabeth, the only difference between trying and triumph, is a little umph!" Oh my husband! So, off we went.
Well, the social was awkward to say the least. We knew NO one, and we honestly looked like two fifteen year olds that snuck in for the free booze! (I feel certain that at least one couple was whispering about us.) As if our appearance wasn't bad enough, at one point I attempted to make conversation with a girl who looked like someone I went to high school with, but... surprise - It wasn't her! (I realized this only AFTER interrupting her conversation to pat her on the shoulder and look closely at her face.)
After a whopping 25 minutes spent lingering and pretending to be interested in the memorabilia on the walls, we made a great escape at approximately 7:30. I guess we aren't really cut out for social networking.
I should add, however, that the night wasn't a total bust. Jeff did take me out for Mexican food after I whined about "getting all dressed up" for nothing. There is, afterall, a silver lining to all dark clouds! :)
**Side note: In lieu of actually going out in public to meet clients, Jeff (and the amazing Howard) have designed this awesome postcard for marketing. Enjoy!
Anyways, around six this evening I wasn't feeling it, but Jeff so wisely said to me, "Elizabeth, the only difference between trying and triumph, is a little umph!" Oh my husband! So, off we went.
Well, the social was awkward to say the least. We knew NO one, and we honestly looked like two fifteen year olds that snuck in for the free booze! (I feel certain that at least one couple was whispering about us.) As if our appearance wasn't bad enough, at one point I attempted to make conversation with a girl who looked like someone I went to high school with, but... surprise - It wasn't her! (I realized this only AFTER interrupting her conversation to pat her on the shoulder and look closely at her face.)
After a whopping 25 minutes spent lingering and pretending to be interested in the memorabilia on the walls, we made a great escape at approximately 7:30. I guess we aren't really cut out for social networking.
I should add, however, that the night wasn't a total bust. Jeff did take me out for Mexican food after I whined about "getting all dressed up" for nothing. There is, afterall, a silver lining to all dark clouds! :)
**Side note: In lieu of actually going out in public to meet clients, Jeff (and the amazing Howard) have designed this awesome postcard for marketing. Enjoy!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
The Poppy that Cried Wolf
If you know me at all, you know that I am absolutely crazy about my 91 year old grandfather, Poppy. And, if you know him at all, you know that he is a little bit cranky and can't wait to die. I realize that this sounds terrible, but it is really true.
Exhibit A: In elementary school, Poppy promised me a trip to Disney World when I turned thirteen if he was "still alive." Well, folks... He is STILL kicking to this day & I've STILL never been to the most magical place on earth. :)
Exhibit B: One of Poppy's favorite Sunday afternoon activities is to have someone drive him out to his burial plot so that he can daydream about going there. This is not a lie.
All joking aside, I've kind-of grown up talking about when Poppy dies. At least once every visit, he makes some comment about his latest ailment that is - this time - sure to kill him. So... it was no surprise that on Thursday when he started complaining of chest pains, we didn't take it too seriously.
Last Thursday morning, I took Granny to a doctor's appointment with her oncologist. (Side Note: Poppy is as healthy as an ox; Granny really is a sick and wouldn't complain if her life depended on it.) Right in the middle of discussing the doctor's information, Poppy starts grabbing his chest and complaining of heartburn. At this point, Granny said "Oh, give me a break Kent" and left the room.
A few minutes passed, and Poppy sat in his recliner moaning a little while Granny worked the crossword puzzle and asked Poppy for help spelling the word "cherub." Ironic, considering his hope for an early encounter with one of these heavenly creatures.
Long story short, while we sat there going on with our business, Poppy actually had a heart attack. Who would've guessed it?! Eventually we decided to take him to the ER, where he made all sorts of demands about a CD that would mature on Monday, something that needed to be mailed if he died, and that under absolutely NO circumstances would he have any form of surgery or life support. Later, however, when the doctor said "Mr. Martin, we are going to have to operate to place a stint in your heart, is that ok?" Poppy's IMMEDIATE response was, "Of course, whatever it takes." Hmmm...
Poppy spent three nights in the hospital where he flirted with all the nurses, peed in a jug (that he brought home to water the plants with, I might add), and soaked up everyone's comments about how good he looks for his age. It has been a whirlwind last few days, but today, Poppy is home and healthy. That is one strong old man!
Love you Pop!
Exhibit A: In elementary school, Poppy promised me a trip to Disney World when I turned thirteen if he was "still alive." Well, folks... He is STILL kicking to this day & I've STILL never been to the most magical place on earth. :)
Exhibit B: One of Poppy's favorite Sunday afternoon activities is to have someone drive him out to his burial plot so that he can daydream about going there. This is not a lie.
All joking aside, I've kind-of grown up talking about when Poppy dies. At least once every visit, he makes some comment about his latest ailment that is - this time - sure to kill him. So... it was no surprise that on Thursday when he started complaining of chest pains, we didn't take it too seriously.
Last Thursday morning, I took Granny to a doctor's appointment with her oncologist. (Side Note: Poppy is as healthy as an ox; Granny really is a sick and wouldn't complain if her life depended on it.) Right in the middle of discussing the doctor's information, Poppy starts grabbing his chest and complaining of heartburn. At this point, Granny said "Oh, give me a break Kent" and left the room.
A few minutes passed, and Poppy sat in his recliner moaning a little while Granny worked the crossword puzzle and asked Poppy for help spelling the word "cherub." Ironic, considering his hope for an early encounter with one of these heavenly creatures.
Long story short, while we sat there going on with our business, Poppy actually had a heart attack. Who would've guessed it?! Eventually we decided to take him to the ER, where he made all sorts of demands about a CD that would mature on Monday, something that needed to be mailed if he died, and that under absolutely NO circumstances would he have any form of surgery or life support. Later, however, when the doctor said "Mr. Martin, we are going to have to operate to place a stint in your heart, is that ok?" Poppy's IMMEDIATE response was, "Of course, whatever it takes." Hmmm...
Poppy spent three nights in the hospital where he flirted with all the nurses, peed in a jug (that he brought home to water the plants with, I might add), and soaked up everyone's comments about how good he looks for his age. It has been a whirlwind last few days, but today, Poppy is home and healthy. That is one strong old man!
Love you Pop!
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Flashback: June 30, 2007
Yesterday was the two year anniversary of marrying my best friend! Believe it or not, this still seems so ridiculous when I think back to our high school years of me stalking him and basically begging him to like me -- Well, look who won out in the end! :)Honestly though, married life is wonderful -- don't believe all the crappy movies and tv shows. Jeff has made me so much more relaxed and fun, and has taught me so much in our time together. He is a constant picture of Christ to me in the way he knows me (the very ugliest and meanest) and yet, still loves me with so much grace and selflessness.
Thanks to all of you, too, who stood beside us on our wedding day two years ago, and have continued to be wonderful friends and support to us. We love you!
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