Guess who I met

I know this has been a very intense political season, and with election day right around the corner both major candidates have been feverishly campaigning for those last minute votes, but imagine my surprise when I saw Barack Obama in my neighborhood on Halloween night. Geez, these guys don't take a break do they?

Well, always one for a photo op, I invited Mr. Obama into our home and asked if he would allow me to take a picture of him. He kindly obliged.


On his way out the door, I also managed to snag a picture of him with one of his secret service agents


Pssst, that's not really Obama. That's Ian. The resemblance is uncanny, I know, but take a second look and you'll see that it really is the munchkin.

Yes, we dressed the little one up as Barack Obama for Halloween and hit the trick or treat trail. His costume was a big hit in the neighborhood, and he promised no tax increases for everyone that gave him candy.

Here are a couple more pics of the evening.

Hitting up the neighbors for candy

Checking out the loot

Happy Halloween everyone!

p.s. The white chicken scratches in Ian's hair are actually supposed to represent Obama's gray hair. See, in my fantasy world, I thought I would have Ian sit down while I strategically placed those gray hairs all over his head. Yeah, that didn't happen and you can only do so much when you are trying to pin a kid down with one arm and draw gray hairs in his head with the other.

The Shack

A few weeks ago a co-worker and I were browsing a local book fair. As we were perusing the spiritual book section chit chatting about the books we planned to read, a man nearby overheard our conversation and asked if either of us had read The Shack by William P. Young. We both responded that we hadn't (neither of us had even heard of the book) and with excitement in his voice he proclaimed, "Oh, you just HAVE to read this book. It will change your whole perspective on who God is."

Intrigued, I asked him for a little more background, and our new friend gave a 5 minute spiel as to why The Shack is one of the best books we would ever read.

As Peter* began to speak, it was obvious that he was very passionate about the book. It seemed to stir up emotions from deep within him, and there were a few times when he just had to pause to gather his thoughts. He was speechless.

After our chat with Peter*, both my co-worker and I were excited about this book. At the time, I was in the middle of, A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle, but I got to a point where I wanted to take some time to absorb the information in that book, and I thought I would go ahead and pick up The Shack and do some light reading.

***OH MY GOSH***

Now I understand why Peter* was so emotional about this book. It was absolutely phenomenal!

Synopsis (taken from barnesandnoble.com):

Mackenzie Allen Philips's youngest daughter, Missy, has been abducted during a family vacation, and evidence that she may have been brutally murdered is found in an abandoned shack deep in the Oregon wilderness. Four years later, in this midst of his great sadness, Mack receives a suspicious note, apparently from God, inviting him back to that shack for a weekend. Against his better judgment he arrives at the shack on wintry afternoon and walks back into his darkest nightmare. What he finds there will change his life forever.

The Shack seems to articulate what I've been thinking about for the past couple of years, but couldn't find the words to say. The subject matter ranges from Perceptions of Who God is, Suffering, Forgiveness, Judgment, Good and Evil, and much more.

I will give a warning though. Young definitely challenges what I call traditional Christianity, and although I've only read a small amount of reviews, I can only imagine he has a lot of religious people out there that are upset with him.
But in my mind, this book is not about religion, it is about relationship. Relationships with those around us, and also about being connected to something bigger than you or me. Something that is Divine, something that IS; and that IS-ness, that Spirit, I call that God.

I highly recommend The Shack. It's the type of book that speaks both to your heart, and your head. It takes you on an emotional roller coaster. It..... I don't know what else to say.

Just like Peter*, I'm speechless.


*While I do know the name of the man that recommended the book, I've decided to call him Peter in order to respect his privacy.

Where's the beef?

Those of you that know me, know that for the last 8 or so years of my life, I've avoided red meat like the plague. Before that, I was a big beef/red meat eater. I never gave much thought to it. Growing up in my house, it wasn't a meal without meat. But in my freshman or sophomore year of college, I started to hear about the negative effects of red meat, saw a few gross pictures of the colon (thanks Mrs. P *wink*) and I decided I was all done with it.

Lately though, I've been rethinking my position. My change of heart began about the time I was being wheeled off for my emergency c-section.
In my effort to remain calm, I began doing what I do best. Talking.

I was chatting it up with my nurse and anesthesiologist, and though I had long ago asked them to stop updating me on my blood pressure readings, I must have inquired about the seriousness of my condition. That's when one of the nurses said something to the affect of, "Honey, we want to keep you from having a stroke."

Uh, excuse me? A stroke? OK, apparently you missed something. I do my best to eat well, I work out fairly regularly, and continued to do so when I found out I was pregnant; I'm not the type of person that needs to be concerned about a stroke.

Or so I thought.

Anyway, I've been thinking about this for a while now, and I think I'm shying away from the total avoidance mentality when it comes to red meat. In a weird way, I was using it as an insurance policy to guarantee a long healthy life, but let's face it. There are no guarantees. I could do all the "right things" as it relates to health, and still be gone tomorrow.

Now I don't plan to gorge myself on hamburgers and steak (truthfully, they still don't appeal to me), and I still intend to take precautions when it comes to my health, but I think the answer, like most things in my life, is that moderation is the key.

Now, where is that pepperoni pizza?

The night the lights went out

One of the fun things I like to do with Ian, is attempt to scare the crap out of him.
We'll be playing a game of chase, and once he is in a spot where he can't see me anymore, I'll double back, sneak up on him and yell something like "RAAAAAAR." In the old days this used to make him cry (yes, I'll take that mother of the year award now), but nowadays he enjoys it just as much as I do. He has even taken to sneaking upon me and scaring me, although his shout of terror is that high pitched screeching sound that seems to be limited to children age 4 and under.

Anyway, you can imagine how much fun we had when a few evenings ago the entire neighborhood lost electricity around sunset. It took the scare tactics to a whole Halloweenesqe level. Good times.

Here are a few pictures of the blackout. As expected, they are pretty dark, but I thought they would be kind of fun to post :)

Ian and Mommy

Ian and Daddy

Oooooohh, are you scared?

I am a liar

...Or at least that's what Ian would have you believe.

Like any delusional, first-time parent, I believe my child is the best, the smartest, and the funnest kid around. I think other people should feel the same way, so what do I do to accomplish this goal? I brag about him.

That's right, I brag on my kid, and each time I do he manages to make me look like a pathological liar.


I tell everyone about his increasing vocabulary:

Bragging Point 1: "Ian is becoming quite chatty these days. His latest words are: All Done, More, Duck, Door, Yes, and Go, go, go (taught to him by John Paul). Ian, can you say "All Done?"

Ian's Response: ***Silence ***

I tell people how affectionate he is:

Bragging Point 2: "Ian is so sweet. He just loves to give me kisses. Ian, give Mommy a kiss."

Ian's Response: He looks at me as if I have just spit on him.

I comment that he's always on the go:

Bragging Point 3: "Ian is so cute when he walks. Watch. Ian, walk to Momma."

Ian's Response: He begins crawling

I tell people about his infectious laugh:

Bragging Point 4: "When Ian laughs, you can't help but do the same. He has the cutest laugh you've ever heard (In my best funny voice as I prepare to tickle him) Ian, the tickle monster is going to get you."

Ian's response: Crying

Oh and what happens once we are alone?

Like clockwork he starts running, while screaming "Go, go, go", collapses on the floor in laughter, and finishes off by giving me a kiss on the cheek.

Why do I even bother? :)