"I'm going to Disney World!" 

75 and Sunny!

I'm finishing up the last bit of laundry - the packing is nearly complete and we're all psyched! I've been constantly checking the weather and while it seems to change quite a bit, our arrival day has stayed put at 75 and sunny, which is PERFECT. I'm excited for Florida and warm climates and all, but what I think excites me most is the expressions of joy on the boys' faces along the way - entering a big airport; taking off; seeing the tiny little land below and of course, entering the gates of the Magical Kingdom. (I plan to take pictures of all of the above!) No really, I do - it's even on my itenirary... okay maybe I'm not that extreme but the dork in me has certainly been having a ball with PLANNING every aspect of our days with Mickey. Character breakfasts; dinner reservations, when to do Epcot and when to lounge around at our pool. We're going to shoot for a day at Cocoa Beach too - such a short distance away and we're able to show the boys the ocean for the first time, so why not?

Well folks, off I go to button up the last bits of our fond farewell to MN! Have a wonderful week!

ps the picture above is one I took after asking Noah if he was excited for Disney World - it looks to be so!

A Scratch on the Surface

I've recently found that I am 99% consumed with minor day-to-day happenings and the endless thoughts that go into them as they drift in and out of my subconscious. I'm a very predictable person who wears her...eh... to do list on her sleeves. I tend to overthink topics as simple as body oil vs. body lotion. I often wish I were deeper but on most days, you can easily notice that I'm wrapped up in some form of trivial existence. Perhaps I'm more comfortable turning the smallest of subjects into all consuming projects so I don't have to be deep otherwise. I'm not picking on myself - I'm just setting the stage for where I have been and where I have been coming from. I am not a bad person and like most, my true efforts are in check.

When the occasional moment of clarity separate from this place in life occurs, I find that I long to be better acquainted with myself. In order to do so, I am compelled to first find my spiritual self. Not "Felecia the Christian"; but a Felecia who is that of faith in all that was intended for us as believers of God. To this point, I feel that my adolescent decision to go up to an alter and claim my faith as a Christian has ushered me from one area entitled "potential client" into another area labeled "solid benefactor". Only I wasn't sure what I was invested into. I know the contract read something to the effect of "will go to heaven" (good); "will pray" (sure); "won't be bad" (um); "will pray for forgiveness when bad" (whew)... Much like signing a life insurance policy, the quick description all made sense and it seemed to be the logical thing to do, so sign on the dotted line I did.

I've recently learned that while my contract may be open-ended, it is only the basic coverage plan.

I just laughed at that last statement because I find it ironic that I actually used it! Me! The girl who said more than a dozen times "It's not like there are different LEVELS of Heaven, for crying out loud!" "I'm not going to be stuffed into the basement of Heaven just because I missed a few Sundays at church!"

Which brings me to a theory I'm considering about Heaven. It's not my theory entirely, but one of a good friend of mine. Based on biblical commentary, she observes that a life apart from God is hell. Given that, I think we could stand to reason that a portion of our Heaven is here on Earth. Which solidifies the argument that indeed, there are "levels" of Heaven! I can say I love God and do my best to comply with the standards of a fundamental Christian lifestyle, but what if that only gets me through the door? It's when I wake up spiritually and make the cognitive decision to learn more about my faith that I've found perhaps this other level.

To better organize my thoughts, I've compared it to a vacation. It's been a long time since we've taken a vacation. And I think you would all agree that a large part of a vacation is the excited anticipation for its arrival. We're shipping out to Disney World in a week, and so the past few months have had me happily planning our itinerary. Everything that I do in preparation for this vacation has been extremely fun - whether it be booking the hotel to making dinner reservations once we arrive. It occurs to me then, that the preparation is part of the entire vacation - not just the seven days we spend in Florida. Now why haven't I been able to apply this concept to my eternal preparation?

The distractions, I suppose.

I made an attempt to delve into zealous Christianity a while back. What an episode that was. I just couldn't wrap my mind around the idea that unless you are (a) speaking in tongues, (b) on your face crying or (c) dating the pastor's son, Heavenly bliss was out of reach. I left the church with a lot of confusion and anger, but most of all, I left the church feeling as if I had failed a test that everybody else had seemed to ace. Half of me wonders if they were cheating and the other half hope they all fall off a cliff.

I don't see myself entering a phase of life that is an obvious transformation for anybody other than myself and my faith. I'm not going to start wearing dowdy clothes or bringing my Bible with tattered cover everywhere I go. I'm not going to be the person who preaches to the cashier at Target about Christianity by using the same pitch as a guy would to sell me a Saturn. I'm going to lead by example for my children, yes, but beyond that I'm going to do my best to find a permanent clarity from the distractions that work so hard to cloud our time here. In doing so, I'm going to find joy. My little piece of Heaven on Earth.

Case Closed

I finished it - the Exorcism of Emily Rose - I watched the last half. Well, that's not entirely true... thanks to the technology of DVD menus, etc., I was able to skip over the actuall exorcism part. I'm confident that it was full of scary thing that would leave too many impressions on me at bedtime. I didn't need the details on that - but I did tune in just as the exorcism failed and they called it a night. Then I watched as the judicial system took over on if and how Father Moore should be charged with the crime of murder by way of negligence. It was very good - the latter part of the movie was much better to my nerves. Anyway, the basic idea of Emily Rose's story is that she was a martyr for non-believers. She wrote "Many people say that God is dead or doesn't exist but how can they believe that when I show them the devil."

I'm glad I finished it (in the daylight...) I found that the past few days has had me wondering how it ended - why all that horror took place - how it was put to rest. Anyway, if you ever find yourself curious about it or plan to watch it - make sure you do it in daylight... and have the remote in your hand for easy access to the "skip forward" button.

I ended up peeking, and now I'm FREAKING

As you may remember, I had posted about wanting to see a movie that invoked my curiosity. The Exorcism of Emily Rose. Well, yesterday I broke down and borrowed it from my sister-in-law and let me tell you, I AM TERRIFIED.

I'm a pretty big baby when it comes to scary movies, and an even bigger baby at that when the scariness involves dark forces of evil - - demonic influence, if you will. I believe in a Christian God and as a such, I can't dismiss the possibility that his foe exists. I thank God all the time for small (and not-so-small) favors. Given that theory, I tend to blame Satan for a few setbacks. That's about as far as I'm going to delve into the theological side of things, but at least you get a taste of where I stand.

After putting the kids to bed, I settled into my recliner with a fuzzy throw and cup of tea. Andy came home from an ambulance call just after the credits started and found that I was already nervous and jittery. About 30 minutes into the movie, I abandoned my post on the recliner and nudged Andy over on couch. About 10 minutes after that, Andy was thoroughly annoyed with my scary movie-watching habits. Not only did he have to contend with my incessant shivering, but he had to play 20 questions for each scene that started with scary music. I won't watch the TV, but instead I watch his face or cover my eyes. The only problem with this method is that I still want to know what is happening, so I needle him.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing"

"Why is the music scary?"

"She's just standing there."

"Something has to be happening other than that - just LISTEN to the music!"

"She looked at a guy and he had a demon face."

"I'M PRETTY SURE THAT'S SOMETHING!"

"YOU WATCH IT THEN!"

Perhaps the most annoying part for Andy is that he was the one who didn't want to watch the film. And here he is...Narrating for me. And I am watching the dog.

Anyway, we shut off the movie right about the time Father Whoever said "Please restrain Emily. We're going to start the exorcism now."

That's all it took for me. In order to get my mind off of that, I had to watch two (YES TWO) episodes of South Park. I finally fell asleep around midnight and when I woke up around 4:30 a.m., you can bet I couldn't fall back to sleep.

Now I am annoyed because I know I have to finish the movie. I can't just leave it - - - can I???

Boy Meets Girl

I just finished listening to Olivia Newton John’s Grease hit “You’re The One That I Want” – I loved that movie. The part of the movie where this song plays is so inspiring to young women. Sandra Dee decides she would like to go ahead with a transformation to better appeal to the man of her dreams, John Travolta. She trades in her Ked’s and poodle skirt for some stiletto’s and tight pants. Her hair has been teased and curled and lips brushed red. Travolta’s reaction is classic and you can’t help but smile as the two lusty teenagers dance around the fairgrounds clinging to each other and the wonderful futures they are sure to have, now that they are both wearing black leather. High school romance; what a wonderful thing.

I couldn't help but reflect on my own high school romance. I married mine. Andy and I dated (if you cold call it that) since the 8th grade. I think the appropriate term for it was "go with each other".

Boy: "Will you go with me?"
Girl: "Sure, I'll go with you."

Then they just sit there - going together. Wondering who will make the first move to hold hands and more.

Thank goodness I met my husband under such simple circumstances. Knowing our personalities, it could have been much more complicated had we been into our 20's.

Boy: "I think you should go with me."
Girl: "Oh yea? And why is that?"
Boy: "Because I am a handsome and charming stud who will bother you until you submit."
Girl: "Well, I'm much to indecisive to give you a real answer. Go bother somebody else."
Boy: "We are sure to have a wonderful future together - just go with me already!"
Girl: "I don't think I like your tone!"
Boy: "Well I think you deserve that tone based on your attitude!"

I thank my lucky stars that adolescent hormones pointed me in the right direction with Andy. I was able to wash my hands of those dating and relationship struggles that most people tend to experience.

And unlike Ms. Sandra, I didn't have to struggle into a pair of tight leather pants to do it.

Saddened by the realization that everybody thinks our boys look like Andy, I decided to hunt down a picture that resembles their mother. Low and behold! I found a picture that truly depicts their genetic link to me! Ahhh.... 

"C'mon Down and Meet Some Friends of Mine"

We're good people - Andy and I that is. We have a wonderful marriage, two beautiful children and a basic quaint existence that takes us to church, work, our grandmothers', and home again. We attend school programs, family birthday parties and baptisms. One of our shared survival instincts is to do our best at bettering the lives of our children and those around us in any small way we can.

Yet every night after tucking our boys in, we share a minor...lapse in judgment. It's something we both look forward to at the end of a long day, even when we know better.

South Park.

We love South Park.

The trashy language, the raunchy innuendoes, the extremely UNpolitical topics. We love it all. Animation that when first broadcast on network television, had me thinking a nasty gram to the folks down at Warner Brothers was in order. But as Andy and I grew tired of the Late Show and that other late show, we found ourselves craving the mindless and unexpected humor that only little Stanley, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny can provide.

In addition (Lord help me...) I really have found that the show offers perspective. When the parents of the children are written in, they are a variety of dopey adults trying to do their best in teaching the boys about things like drugs, sex, strangers, etc. Their far-reaching and exaggerated attempts to do the right thing typically has the kids dumbfounded (and us laughing our heads off). Whether it be an unconscious attempt by the writers of the show, or a sought out endeavor, I feel as if I have been enriched by its knack to do nothing in moderation.