Adam & Eve - Made in the USA

The boys have a Bible memory match game. It's pretty handy for reinforcing some of the stories we've told them from the Bible and introducting them to new ones.

This depiction, however, of Adam and Eve caught my eye. I think it was the initial shock of seeing two very delighted people standing naked behind some bushes. I've been naked and I've stood behind bushes before, but never at the same time. And I'm guessing I wouldn't be in a state of bliss if I had.

Second, I'm guessing Eve did not come with bleach-blonde hair. Unless the garden of Eden came with a Toni and Guy. Which, in some people's utopia, it would. Anyhow, it's a wonder Adam named her Eve and not Barbie.
And who could resist that precious little snakie peeking out of the bushes and smiling? I mean, really, I'd always pictured an evil-eyed snake with a Gollum-like voice that slithered in and out of tree roots. This little character makes me want to pinch his snake cheeks and give him some cotton candy. It's no wonder Eve couldn't resist.

The Sunday Special

I just love these fellas...

Happy Sunday!

Friday Night Lights

Boyd had its first football game last night and we made plans to meet up with some friends for the cross-town showdown. Boy, what a difference a year makes in the boys' ability to sit through an entire game! It helped, too, that there were five other kids to entertain them (and nine other adults to corral them). Wise rule of thumb when venturing out in public - always outnumber the kids. Also, bring lots of food to keep them distracted. KJ, I've already made a note to bring a cooler full of water for you next game, you precious, thirsty boy whom I love.

They look so sweet (and seated) here, but this was just the first quarter.
Jake found a friend in Kalli and I approve. She is an awesome girl and doesn't seem to mind sticky lollipops on her legs. That's always a bonus in a girlfriend.
I just love this pic for KJ's Boyd fever (he's putting his Bronco sign up), my boys' love of the Aggies/distain for the longhorns and Kendyl's love for America. Yes, she stood at solemn attention with her hand over her heart the entire Boyd school song.

We had such a great time playing with the kiddos even though I think I only watched about seven plays of the game (that part hasn't changed in a year). And the great thing is, we love their parents, too.

Aside from the crickets dive bombing the fans, it was a perfect night. Those crickets must've had some Japanese in them, considering the way they would suddenly go kamikaze and plunge out of the dark sky. It was so odd. And also, so creepy. I imagine this is how the Egyptians felt when the bug plagues hit. Except they weren't watching a high school football game and eating popcorn. And their locusts weren't from the Orient.

Still, the weather was comfy and we actually had a little breeze. Awesome and unexpected for August in Texas. Our little fan section got to see the Broncos stomp the McKinney North Bulldogs 28-7. What more could we have asked for?

As for our sons, they had a blast spending the fourth quarter collecting crickets in empty water bottles. That was definitely their highlight moment (mine came when we finally convinced them to release them the next morning). Another big moment for the kiddos was meeting the Boyd mascots. Kennedy and Jake - we'll have to get y'all in this next game! I'd heard the names of the students underneathe the equine garb, but one of them could go either way as far as gender. The following, however, left no doubt as to what gender the mascots actually are...


Clearly, I could've been a mascot in a past life because I totally relate to their desire to have some girl time even as our team is on the field and about to score. I think that's what's so fun about Texas high school football when you've been in a town awhile. It's fun to get together with people you like and just, you know, horse around.

(Tee hee!)

Oh, and watch football, OF COURSE (in case Brian's reading this).

We'd love to make it a tradition to meet up with friends for football games now that our guys have shown they can make it through a game. Come on out if you're looking for something to do on a Friday night. We'll bring the snacks and KJ's beverages, y'all bring the bug spray!

What A Friend We Have In Jesus...

Dear God,

I'm burdened tonight. Not sure I can pinpoint why, other than lots of stuff has piled up and I'm sad. I was feeling frustrated about some things earlier. But now I am hurting for some people I love. I chatted with three different friends on Facebook late tonight and I believe you orchestrated that. But, I never seem to know what to say to people who are sad. My words are never adequate when people are hurting. Sometimes there are just no words and no immediate solutions. Sometimes I feel like all I can do is sit silently in the dirt with them, like Job's friends, and just grieve with them.

And that is hard for me, the problem solver.

But, I am thankful tonight for prayers, God. And when I am emptied of words, I love that "the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans." I'm so thankful, God, that you are compassionate and that you want us to come to you with what's hurting us.

John 11:35 is one of my favorite verses - "Jesus wept." Because in those two words, I see that your heart hurts with mine. I see that even though our lives are but a blip on the scale of eternity, you still see our individual hearts. You see the personal pain. The stuff that rips so deeply, we have no more words.

And, God, I'm really thankful that you know me so personally and that you love me so richly that I don't always have to have words. You know what's on my heart and you are working on the solutions I can't yet see.

So, God, I lift up my friends and ask that you give them peace and rest tonight and that you sit with them and comfort them. Hold them and let them feel your presence.

God, thank you that we don't always need words.

Just you.

Amen.

Good Sleep...Sweet Night...uh, Dream Tight!

Noah's been wishing us, "Good Night, sweep (sleep) tight, sweet dreams. Don't let the big buggies bite you," for awhile now. Little Brother, T, picked up on that tonight and tried to imitate Noah's version.

He got through, "Good night, sweep tight, sweet dreams," but seemed stuck on the last part. He stumbled through, "Don't let the...buggies, don't let the big...," until he finally concluded it with, "Don't let the mosquitos bite ya!"

Here's to sweeping tight and with a big canister of deet!

Baby Got Back

Since my inaugural rump kicking, shin terrorizing run a few months ago, I have only strapped on my tennis shoes for running purposes maybe three times. Two of those times have been in the last week. Tell me how sad that is.

I have to say I had a very reasonable excuse. Actually, I had two. The first was that I so severely injured my shins that first run, I could barely walk without shin pain for some weeks.

My second excuse was, less than a week after the inaugural run, a glass broke in our kitchen and I got a pretty deep cut from an overlooked shard.

shin injury + glass in foot = funny looking, unsexy duck waddle when barefoot.

shin injury + glass in foot = God does not desire for me to run. Or waddle like an unsexy duck.

It turns out that shard actually burrowed into my foot and I didn't realize I still had glass in my foot until it was still hurting a week later. I first assumed it was just that deep a cut based on the amount of blood that streamed forth from my injury. But, weeks into it, I still was unable to comfortably walk barefoot on it and grimaced if I caught myself walking certain ways. I ignored it for awhile, but finally went to the doctor about two months later when the pain intensified.

What my $25 co-pay got me was advice to soak it in Epsom salt water for two weeks and hope it worked its way out. After that, I was to go ahead and call a podiatrist. Which, my business degree didn't really cover, you know, medical stuff, but it seems to me that if glass has been embedded in one's foot so long the skin has healed over it, I'm not sure soaking it would coax it out.

But that's just me and my piddly little business degree talking.

Thankfully, it seems my body had already begun the process of working the glass out, which explains why the area was more sensitive near the end. I finally worked up the courage to cut away some of the top layer (grossssss...) and, lo and behold, two small glints caught my eye.

And, suddenly, my foot was healed! It is amazing how much pain two incredibly minute slivers of glass can cause. I'm sure there's some spiritual principle to be gained, but I'm too tired to put one together.

Also, my business degree didn't teach me how to put spiritual principles together.

So now the only problem is I no longer have an excuse to not resume running.

In fact, I've recently been given two very good reasons to restart.

My first motivation was when Noah and I were talking about killer whales.

You know where I'm going, don't you?

He remembered seeing them at Sea World and they came up in conversation the other day. I was having a good time reliving the pure glee we'd shared watching Shamu heave its enormous body onto the stage in front of us. Ahh, the laughter as its body rolled gigantic waves of salt water over us...

The walk down memory lane came to a screeching halt when Noah suddenly asked, "Mommy, are you bigger or is Shamu bigger?"

Oh. My. Word. Child.

Today, Tyler and I were looking at a picture of a brontosaurus. The illustration showed the brontosaurus next to a house to give some perspective. Tyler then looked up at me and asked, "Mommy, are you bigger than a house, too?"

Sooooo...if y'all need me, I'll be run-waddling down Lake Forest again in the morning, broken shins and self esteem and all.

And Then There Were Three...

Oh my. How awful that it's taken two long months to post this. I wrote this over a period of time, but waited to post until I could post birth pics. When Noah was born, we hadn't discovered the world of downloading our pics to our computer. It was like we were in the Dark Ages. It's like we still are because we also don't own a scanner. So, I'm unable to scan birth day pics. Alas, this delay cannot go on any longer. I need the world to know I have two boys whom I love equally and that I didn't forget I gave birth twice.

Because I also need the world to know the reason for my ever expanding girth.

So...two months later...this one's for you, Noah Jack.

My big guy turned five this morning. I looked at him the other day, in total amazement that we had nearly reached five years. Five years ago today, I had no idea what my heart was in for. Neither did my carpets and our walls. But those are stories for another day.

Early in the morning of August 18th, after 13 hours of slow labor, my boy's heart rate kept dropping and we knew it was time to get him out. So, at 6:36 a.m., there he was. Dark haired and plump and looking an awful lot like the baby on Ice Age.

My Noah, how do I summarize you? It's so hard to wrap up all this love I have for you and Tyler and form it into words. Words will never be enough. I've loved you for over 157,680,000 seconds. How do you summarize the way my life, my focus, my heart have changed since 157,680,000+ seconds ago?

You were named for Noah of the Bible. Just as he did, we pray that you will remain steadfast in your faith despite what others around you choose. And though you will make many mistakes in this life, I pray that you will always be rooted in the fact that God loves you and His love is worth standing up for.

Also, if you want to build me a yacht and take me on a 40 day cruise someday, I'm up for that.

As soon as I learned you were a boy, I prayed that you would be determined. Wow, did God answer that prayer. You have one of the most competitive spirits I know. You were crawling by five months and you've pretty much kept going since then! Which didn't make it fun when I wanted you to sit still and let me hold you. I could always tell when you were sick because you actually sat still and let me cuddle you.

This is you less than one month before you began crawling. You were up on all fours, ready to rock. Maybe that bug-eyed blue monster was a good motivator. Cookie Monster does look a little creepy when you don't know who he is.

Thankfully, you have become more affectionate with age. You are so generous with your kisses and hugs and offer those any and every time I ask. You have such a sensitive nature about you. You've long been able to gauge body language and tone pretty accurately. I appreciate that most when I need some help and you take notice. I so love your servant's heart. I think it is my favorite part of your character and something I pray will continue to develop as you age. I hope you will always notice when there is need and take action to serve the best you can.

You possess a real gentleness and a generosity that is rare for your age. I do believe you were created that way and that it's something we have the opportunity to develop in you. I see your sweetness when you smile and coo at babies. This is you and your first cousin, Anna.

And, as for your generosity, here is one example. A swim client's mom gave us some banana pudding. She gave us enough that each of us could have a portion. As you devoured your tasty treat, you asked for more, so I gave you my portion. You took notice and asked what I was going to eat. I tried to pass off your question, knowing what was coming. I just kind of explained that I didn't want any and that you could have mine. You immediately began dishing it back into my bowl, telling me you wanted me to have it. As I tried to give it back to you, you kept insisting that you wanted me to have it. And that is very rare at age four. It is a joy to see that in you. I so pray that you guys will see the world with bigger eyes. That you will see that we should not store up treasures on earth because those will rot away.

Even though you can bully up on your little brother, I see that you are protective when it counts. When he strays too close to the street, I watch you gently usher him back to safety. When Tyler's taken a serious spill , you rush to get him the antibacterial ointment and band aid. I still remember one moment when Tyler was smaller and strapped in his highchair. He got fussy and wanted out. You soothingly told him, "It's okay, Ty-wer. I'm right here." And it pleases me so much to know that, despite the sibling rivalry of youth, you and Tyler will always be there for each other.

Your devotion to the Aggies was instilled at a young age. Even before you knew what an Aggie was, you could sing the Aggie War Hymn and you listened to the Aggie Band CD every night. Actually, you still don't know what an Aggie is, but you are a faithful one. Even when a certain granddad tried to get you to call the Hogs in exchange for an IHOP breakfast recently, you insisted you wouldn't.

Until you finally whispered it under your breath.

It appears your devotion to IHOP is nearly as strong as your devotion to the Aggies. Such stubbornness and appreciation for a good stack of international pancakes devotion comes naturally to you. Still, we know where your truest loyalty lies.

You have had a love of learning all your life. You could recognize most of the alphabet before you were two. I enjoy watching you whisper something I've just told you, memorizing each word and imprinting it in your brain. I feel like I'm actually witnessing some live synapses development going on. You constantly challenge me to realize that kids are capable of learning more than we sometimes give you guys credit for.

And, even though your teachers say you're ready for kindergarten, I'm at peace knowing that this extra year will provide you some time to mature and grow before I have to release you to the world five days a week.

And also before I have to be on time five days a week to avoid contributing to the delinquency of a child in the form of tardiness at school. YIKES.

When I lived in Colorado, school started at 7:15 a.m. God bless your grandparents. I don't know how they did it.

You have the best gut laugh. It just streams out of you and makes me laugh, too. You laugh at the littlest things - a facial expression, someone burping, a jerky body movement...blinking. Just about anything can get a really good gut laugh out of you. I hope you always laugh that easily. It's a good trait to possess. I think you get that from your Dad. It's one of my favorite things about him.

Another one of my favorite things about you?

Your smile...

for the camera...

has vastly improved.

2006

2007

2008

2009

Happy Birthday, Buddy. You have given us thousands of reasons to smile and we love you.

Highway to the Danger Zone

Tyler so dug the airplanes while we were at Lackland AFB, my Mom and I decided he might grow up to be a military pilot. He is so fascinated by airplanes, rarely does one pass by that he doesn't notice. This is a common outdoors pose for him.

His appetite for airplanes was fully satisfied with the rows of old American airplanes on display at the base. There were planes from WWII and Vietnam, along with some from more recent decades, like the F-16. Here is one pic where the boys paused long enough on their dash between planes for us to snap a quick pic.

They love each other.

This SR-71 was Brian's favorite...

My Dad told us a story about when he was in training and they took his team up on a mid-air re-fueling mission. The SR-71 was a fairly new plane, able to actually enter space and reach incredible speeds. Dad said they viewed the re-fueling take place underneathe them. As he watched, he suddenly went from seeing the plane to not seeing it at all. It was as if it simply went invisible, it was so fast.

Some days, I feel like that when I'm watching my boys in a public place. One minute they're there...the next, they're not. They are mini SR-71s.

As for Mom and me, we really related to the woman onboard this plane.

Being so versatile and all.

Anyhoo, after laying out Tyler's future, we then turned to Noah and asked what he wants to be when he grows up. With visions of NBA contracts, MD diplomas or maybe teaching certificates dancing in our heads, we eagerly anticipated his answer.

His answer?

A bowler.

And like any good professional athlete, he's already got his celebration dance worked out.

It seems he's got the turkey part of bowling down pat.

It's also clear he's got a long way to go to achieve his dream of the PBA, 'cause his genetics won't be any help at all...

And aside from our future family pics looking like this:

...complete with chest hair, I'll be giving up this dream, but so long as our boys are happy, living out their God given gifts and taking care of their families, we'll be proud of them.

And of these new kicks I'll be sporting...

They Call Him Flipper, Flipper...

Oh, my, if this didn't make me want to revisit my desire to be a dolphin trainer, I don't know what could.

And if getting a degree in Marine Biology is a requirement (uh, do you have to take science classes to get that?), then could I at least be that girl who stands next to the dolphin pool in the shade with a mic and every 27 seconds reminds dolphin enthusiasts not to lean too far over the wall? I'm pretty sure that doesn't require a degree. Just some sunscreen and some ability to sound assertive even while repeating the same obvious message 258 times a day.

The dolphin interaction was possibly my favorite part of Sea World. It was definitely the part I was most looking forward to. I was so excited to see the boys experience dolphins up close. Aside from paying $12 for 11 pieces of fish so we could own the opportunity to hand feed them (next time I am so sneaking in my own can of anchovies and if you don't believe me, oh how you don't know me), it was incredible to be in reach of such beautiful, sweet creatures. I swear, they wear a permanent smile on their cute little snouts. It was all I could do not to jump right in their pool and try to recreate what we'd seen in the dolphin performance three days before.

Except for the part where I'm pretty sure it would cause psychological harm for my kids to see Mommy get tasered and arrested because I think that could be the other reason that girl with the mic hangs around the dolphin pool.

She don't want no people trying to go all Flipper on her.

And, anyhow, that being tasered thing ain't no way to wrap up a vacation.

One thing's for sure, I definitely don't have a calling to work with these creatures...

The one in the background, not those in the foreground. I'll keep those. See that creepy gray creature swimming with the tank diver? I think that tank diver must've drawn the short straw that day. Because who calls home and says, "Hey, Mama! I got me a promotion! I spent four years of your money to earn my Marine Biology degree just so I can be eaten to death by a shark!"

Ask me how I would never want to die and being eaten alive by a shark is in my top three. Always. Actually, my answer the last time this came up was, "Experiencing a lot of turbulence right before my plane plunges into the sea. I survive for days while my fellow passengers are eaten alive and while I get sun blisters on my lips. Eventually, I get eaten, too."

THAT is my worst fear. Ooh, how I shudder.

It was Shark Week on the Discovery Channel while we were in San Antonio and I spent a good part of one day, sick and stuck at the hotel, watching every shark show that came on. Even after all those shows, I couldn't tell you what kind this shark is, but I can tell you that bull sharks can transition to fresh water habitats (which, after hearing that, I've pretty much limited myself and my offspring to jaunts in the neighborhood pool and some slip n slide) and that mako sharks wear smiles on their faces.

But not because they are friendly like our smiling dolphin friends. But because their teeth are so large they don't fit in their mouth and because they want to eat you.

Okay, so Discovery didn't go that far, but still. I may not have a big degree in Marine stuff, but I do have some deductive reasoning in me. As in, big teeth on a shark means big bite out of my torso. I see it in their beady little eyes. It's like I'm anointed or something. The Holy Spirit came upon me and told me I would not want to mess with a shark. Or feed it $12 fish and stroke its snout.

I just hope the Holy Spirit told that diver in the tank to pack himself some heat. As in, a taser gun. Do they teach that in Marine Biology?

Inch By Inch, Play By Play...Til We're Finished

Some days, I just feel restless.

Being part of a church family with a major missional life focus has got me thinking.

Back in grade school days, I had some big plans. Here were my life plans in chronological order:

1. Lifeguard in high school (Whistle on a lanyard = rare unbridled power. And, hey, you gotta start somewhere. Kurt Warner used to be a grocery shelf stocker and just look where it got him.)


2. Dolphin trainer in college (I guess I figured if I had to pay for my nightlife, I may as well have a sweet way of doing it. Except for the part where I got to College Station and discovered they don't really have dolphins there...just lots and lots of football. And even that is debatable sometimes.)


3. Pediatrician after college (Except for the part where I got to College Station and discovered I really, really stink at science...even political science. What really sealed the deal was the B I got in the "easiest A on campus" - biomedical science 101. Hey Freshman Class of '13, it really pays to go to class and hear the deadline on that paper titled "What I Want to be When I Grow Up" so you can get an A just for turning it in...on time. )


4. And, finally, I was going to retire and be a medical missionary in Africa (especially Ethiopia - it was the '80s and what I remember seeing on t.v. in the '80s was He-Man, Jem, The Smurfs and lots of starving children in Ethiopia.) My heartstrings were pulled and I knew I wanted to do something to help.

It's 2009 and I'm happy to report that I did accomplish two of those life goals. If you were a swimmer at Crawford Park Pool between 1993 and 1996, your life was guarded by my vigilant eyes watching over you while I simultaneously worked on my really awesome tan...to the point I may pay for that experience in the form of moles someday. (Why couldn't my 31 year old self have slapped her upside the head had a heart-to-heart with my 16 year old self?)

And, I did get to accomplish the last goal, minus the MD title (and paycheck...and status), when I went to South Africa as a missionary in '07 and '08. WOW, what a blessing those trips were.

But, somewhere between 1985 and now, my perspective on life changed and I realized the other day that, whatever my role or job title is, I desire to be this:

1. An empty vessel. Poured out. Nothing left to give.

Don't we all? To be that player that leaves it all on the field. Jordan...Game 6...Utah Jazz...45 points...game winning jumper. Al Pacino's Any Given Sunday speech about willing to fight and die for that inch (minus the profanity, oh my word) "because that is what LIVING is." Jesus, on the cross. "It is finished." The gypsy moth that succumbs to death after mating which, if nothing else, that should tell you it had some kind of dedication and vision.

My pastor, Jeff Warren, has a lovely way of phrasing this (this notion, not the moth's weird mating-related suicide). It goes something like, "The paradox of Christianity is this, you are the most blessed when you have humbled yourself to serve others." Beautiful, isn't it? But, what does that look like? What does it mean to live with the desire to serve others in such a sacrificial way? To what degree will I Go and Be? I'm still trying to figure that out. I wrestle to find the answer in the quiet moments. Searching makes me restless. I want to know what gives a person courage to lay down their own life, their own needs, their own comforts and their own desires to Go serve others and Be Christ in the flesh.

Spc. Ross McGinnis, 19. A soldier who covered a grenade with his body and, in so doing, laid down his life for his buddies. He knew. Dr. Ellice Hammond, the Australian mom who denied herself chemotherapy and died so her unborn daughter could live. She knew. The impoverished widow who gave away her two copper coins, all that she had to live on. She knew. Jim Elliot, Nate Saint, Roger Youderian, Pete Fleming and Ed McCully. They went to tell the Waodani about Jesus and help them stop killing each other...and they were speared to death. They knew.

What made them different? What gave them courage? What does it take to live sacrificially?

I want whatever it is they had.

I hope I figure this out and then I hope I have the courage to do what I'm called to do. Whatever that something may be.

Because restlessness is not a comfortable place to be.

You find out that life is just a game of inches. So is football. Because in either game, life or football, the margin for error is so small. I mean, one half step too late or too early you don't quite make it. One half second too slow or too fast and you don't quite catch it. The inches we need are everywhere around us. They are in every break of the game, every minute, every second. We claw with our fingernails for that inch. Cause we know, when we add up all those inches, that's going to make the difference between WINNING and LOSING, between LIVING and DYING. Al Pacino, censored by a Mommy, Any Given Sunday

How 'Bout Them Cowboys

So, one member of our family made mention of the Cowboys training camp and how it would conveniently be in San Antonio the same week we were.

I'll let you guess which guy had this brilliant idea. Hint: He's the only guy not pouting or wistfully looking off at the highway in this pic.

He was most excited to see three guys in particular...Romo #9, Stephen McGee #7 (Gig 'Em Aggies) and Martellus Bennett #80 (Whoop). He took 21 pics and 12 video clips of our boys. Our Cowboys, that is.

As for our actual boys, they enjoyed running around the passageways of Alamo Field Arena Stadium (whatever it's called) with my parents. For over two hours. Seriously. Where do they get the energy? My parents, I mean.

Me? I was really glad this guy was there...

Because while Brian tried to point out complex plays and explain complicated routes, I was really digging the shenanigans Rowdy put on. That guy is hilarious. Although his plastered politician smile kinda creeped me out. Still, he kept me pretty entertained for about 30 of the 147 minutes of my life spent watching some overpaid divas toss the pigskin. But who's counting.

And while this guy in the Romo jersey put on a good face post-practice,

I can guaran-dog-tee you that he spent more time studying this stick outside than he did studying Romo's passing routes.

Ah, well. At the end, Brian said practice had been one of the highlights of his year.

And that made all 147 minutes worthwhile for me, too.

His Achy Breaky Heart

It's going to take some time to post pics and stories from our vacation to San Antonio, but here's just a little snippet of one of my favorite moments at Sea World. It happened while we were waiting for the gates at the water park to open. We had some time to kill, so Tyler decided to make some new friends. They were girl friends.

And it appears girls can be krool even before they know how to spell krool.

We girls can be finicky and Tyler had an experience that will prepare him for what could come those darn hormonal teenage years.



And, while a mommy never wants to see her little boy sad, it's probably good that he has some time to learn how to deal with these situations with dignity.

Because less than two minutes after experiencing this embarrassing rejection, Brian noticed some fellow line standers staring at Tyler. He looked down to find that Tyler had pulled his swimsuit down and was peeing on the sidewalk. I guess he was trying to re-establish his manhood after such an embarrassing rejection. Mortified, Brian grabbed Tyler and spun him toward the grass.

Guess where I was sitting.

Let's just say I made a beeline for that wave pool as soon as the gates opened.

Is There a 12 Step Program for Facebook Users?

Because my name is Jen and I'm addicted to Facebook. I've been a user for too many months to figure out and I use several times a day. Even in the middle of the night. Even when my children are in the home.

I resisted joining Facebook for months. Brian kept telling me I'd love it, but I decided I didn't want to admit I couldn't figure out what all those Applications meant have time for it. Plus, I had MySpace and I'd even put together a song playlist and posted pics. It was enough for me and I was quite content in my new found social networking abilities.

Oh, how ignorant bliss can be.

Because, in case you haven't discovered, MySpace is to Facebook as Milli Vanilli is to Michael Jackson.

Girl, you know it's true.

I've learned so much just from those 120 character status updates. Some have made me burst out laughing and some have made me cry with and pray for friends. I've learned about job interviews, sick loved ones, baby announcements, fun ideas for new things to do with my family, who is heading out for vacation, that I am 78% Asian (I took a quiz), where to buy cowgirl boots (for camp and for the 22% of me that's totally white), who stays up as late as me, I've laughed at my friends' hilarious kids, cheered birthdays and anniversaries, swapped info on where to visit/eat/shop during various road trips and I've loved getting to see pics of my friends' families and adventures.

Facebook has brought me closer to people I don't normally bump into or catch up with. I just found out a childhood friend had a baby...I didn't even know she was pregnant! I also have accepted two or three friend requests from people I wouldn't recognize on the street and that is a little weird, I admit. But, I am also friends with people like Keela Carr, who intrigued me during a Fox News interview after she walked across America as an expression of gratitude for our troops. (She's walking across America again right now to support homeless veterans!) So, yeah, I even swap friendly messages with people I've never shaken hands with and maybe I'll learn something interesting about them. There are friends halfway around the world and I get to see pics of their wedding gowns, their newborns or the mission work they are involved in. I am blessed to reconnect with family members I haven't seen since I was a teenager, yet we can discuss family news like we talked everyday in between.

Some other lessons I've learned from Facebook...

One of my friends really, really loved Michael Jackson. Really. More than I do. I even saw a video clip of her usually reserved husband singing "We are the World."

If I ever start a band, I can count on at least one friend to do an awesome job of promoting it for free and ten dozen times a week. In fact, it will become her permanent status update. Except, oops, I think she prefers to link people to your band's MySpace site.

Seeing pics of friends come home after serving their country for months at a time is pretty special. Seeing them hold a son born while they were at sea is totally awesome.

Some people can post offensive videos mocking your beliefs on their wall, but write one sarcastic political comment on your status update and they may drop you as a friend. Way to promote open-mindedness.

Some of my friends need to pursue careers in politics. And/or Xanax. But, seriously, they would do awesome in the political realm.

Lastly, I've been reminded that Brian's sense of humor is precious. Really. For example, he once hijacked my account and created Yearbook pics where he pasted my face on hairdos of various decades. Here are some treasures gained from the experience...

Scary enough, I think I actually have a photo from my 8th grade homecoming that looks like this...

Minus the 5:00 shadow, of course.

And, if my hair would've done this in the '90's,

I would've thought I died and went to hair heaven. The sheer joy of seeing my hair achieve this glorious state might have actually killed me. Or maybe just inhaling all the Aqua Net it took to reach that state of bigness. I don't know.

Oh, and speaking of Brian, if you haven't seen his latest pics, he got a new hairdo. He likes to try out different cuts during the summer. Here's my little chia pet main squeeze.

And, no one sports a mullet as proudly as my man.

I keep reminding myself Mario Lopez rocked that look and so did John Stamos. And look where it got them. Total fame.

Incidentally, I came across this random family pic (not mine) on the net. It was actually captioned, "A mullet brings the family together."

Come to think of it, they do look happy together. Maybe they should come up with a mullet slogan like, "pleasant in the front, totally crazy in the back." Or, "I'm going to work my job in the front but meet me for happy hour in the back."

Hmm...that slogan needs some work. I think I'm gonna post that on my status update real quick and let my Facebook friends help me come up with a totally awesome one.

Siyanarr-bye! (sorry, that's my 78% Asianness, 22% honkyness coming out again)