something old, but new

I re-posted an old site from those dark pre-blog days of the early part of the century over on comcast.
Check out the ancient history here, and here if you want.
Monkfish folks alert - collages ahead!

And speaking of greatness

Check out this! My mom's company made Entrepeneur's list of HOT 100 companies. Scroll down to 66. I'm so proud and impressed. And, here's the cool part - look at the amount invested and the amount made compared to the others around it. Alaris, you rock!

Balancing act

So Sara at Going Jesus, it seems, has the knack for writing that stuff that shakes loose what all the rest of us were thinking. Since the comments on this post have already almost reached the same number as years old we are (honestly, who can READ that many?), I'm putting my loose thoughts over here.

What I've been saying this week is this, "If I was full time in ministry, I could be GREAT at it, but that's not an option right now. If I was full time Mommy, I would not be great at it. I would be insane, actually in Harborview Hospital." And it gets a laugh, you know, but it really is true. And it's sad, in a way. I wish I had a nickel for every person who told me before Eli was born - "You will be a GREAT mom, Jen, just great!" and I have to say that I believed it. But how do you measure greatness in that category? A child totally potty trained by 2? (not done). A child who never tantrums at the store? (oops, happened twice this week already). An attitude of complete compassion and unconditional love at all times? (Hmmm, let's be gentle here and say I'm still living into that one).

I guess there's no measuring parenting greatness any more than there is measuring spiritual greatness. Because, what is THAT? Being in touch with God every moment? See, there's something about greatness, or desire thereof, that brings out the excess junkie, in me anyway. Not enough to pray this morning - no if I am to be GREAT, I really have to be in communion with God (and all the saints, even though I am Protestant) every single minute. If I'm spiritually great, I dont have to hanker for a different car, one with air conditioning, so I dont have to arrive at meetings all sweaty with windblown hair because I would consider all the people in the world who dont even have a car and feel gratitude for all my blessings EVERY MINUTE.

So maybe this is the year (nope, I'm stopping sweeping statements and I'M NEVER USING THEM AGAIN -ha!) I mean maybe this DAY is the day to let go of greatness fantasies either in mommying and ministrying and start just living each moment like I'm just enough. And like the moment is just enough for me, too.

Thanks Sara. Great food for thought. And hey, we are in our mid-30's now. Maybe this is bonafide midlife crisis time. Maybe we should get a few toys - you keep your ipod and I'll get that new Jetta - and be grateful we got out that easy....

Elijah-logue

Me: (Upon seeing him wander casually by) Hey, where are you going with that roll of toilet paper?
Him: (With a mischeivious chuckle) I'm going to make a terrible mess.

And on another note entirely

Here's something very thoughtful about jumping off our culture's violence bandwagon. Barbara is great!

Famous

Hey, here's a funny way to be famous.
The feature that Jeff's team works on
got a mention in the The Onion.

Righteous. Totally.

Could this be real?

This I mean.

Anthropologists at the Mall

Last Friday was Jeff's birthday ("I'm a 35 year old boy...") so we went to the Alderwood Mall to get Tiger at the Apple store. (If nothing in that previous sentence made any sense, keep reading, it'll get less geeky from here on in.)

First of all, it was a 20 minute drive made 70 minutes by Friday afternoon traffic - so we all arrived in Lynnwood a little cranky and nauseous from exhaust fumes and that stop and start thing. And also hungry. So we had to scrap our plans to eat at a "nice" restaurant (Olive Garden, anyone?) and headed for the food court. Not having TV, and not getting to the mall hardly ever really made us feel like visitors from another planet while we ate our sbarro's pizza and ziti. And we kept saying, "people really DO this," and we were curious and enjoyed all the people going by and the plastic food but we were definately not, you know, a part of it, even though of course we WERE a part of it.

So I took a picture with my camera phone (have I MENTIONED my camera phone?) so we could document that we had actually BEEN at a MALL.



After we ate, we found the Apple store and ran into Jeremy who was talking with another guy in a kilt, (two of them! in one store!) and Jeff bought his software while me and Elijah found a bathroom and then played for a while on the kids' computers they have thoughtfully set up, since it turns out that a lot of those thirty five year old boys are having kids and then we went to get ice cream and then something really delightful happened.

It's this kind of ice cream place (what is it called?) where they take a gob of plain ice cream and mix it with yummies like nuts and chocolate chips right there on a slab of icey marble. Jeff said, politely, as always, "No thank you. I don't care for sweets." But it was a birthday, so SOMEONE had to eat ice cream. It took a while though, to do all that scooping and mixing, so Eli waited on Jeff's lap over by the door while I stood in line. And at the end, when ours was all mixed, I put a buck in the tip jar.

Earnest, adorable 18-year-old boy behind counter: "You get a song for a tip! Would you like a song?"
Me: "Uh, no thanks. Oh! Yeah, it's my husband's birthday! Would you sing happy birthday to Jeff?"

And they did! All 46 people who seemed to be working there. Not happy birthday, but a special song, composed, I am sure just for this occasion, although they couldnt really tell whose birthday it was, I think. Jeff was grinning his head off. And Eli was entranced. ( Now our boy keeps walking around saying on HIS birthday, he will have ICE CREAM and people will SING. )

And it was so surprisingly sweet, right there in the middle of the mall and all our aloofness and post-modernity to have people sing out loud like they really meant it. Even if they were just a bunch of kids getting paid minimum wage to schlep ice-cream and sing when someone tips.

Happy Birthday, sweetie. (And that's the real one).