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Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
My sad, pathetic haiku, and the Robin Eggs that inspired it
(from Tamie)
Easter chocolate bad
when lactose intolerant;
no more Robin Eggs.
It all started innocently enough, as most of my adventures do, with a trip to Target.
I passed a display of Easter candy.
It spoke to me. Audibly.
"Come ... and buy ... and you will be made happy."
It wasn't too far from the truth. Whoppers Robin Eggs always make me smile. When my cousin Robyn (no relation to the candy) and I were little, we had this special thing we'd do where we'd lick them and paint our faces. (OK, that sounds a lot grosser than it was back then. No wonder our mamas were so leery of us wearing make-up!)
So when I bought the Robin Eggs, I intended to share this tidbit with Kendall so we could relive this fun childhood memory. Except I ate about a dozen of them first. And got really, really sick - as in just as bad as before the gall bladder exodus of December 2007 - the one that subsequently made me lactose intolerant.
I crawled into bed and lay very, very still. Eventually, I went to sleep and dreamed that little gnomes wearing spiked shoes were walking all over me. When I woke up, I felt well enough to help Bobby search for clues.
"You didn't dip into any queso at lunch yesterday, did you," asked my queso-loving husband, secretly happy to have more of the amazing Ted's appetizer for himself on Monday press lunches.
"No!" said me.
I recounted the rest of the day, food-wise. No cheese, no milk, no dinner, because I was feeling gross.
Um ....
And then I remembered the Robin Eggs.
I picked up the bag. A puddle of milk had formed on the kitchen counter underneath it. I heard evil laughter.
The label dripped with the dreaded L word (lactose). Followed by the M word (milk, malted milk) and the W word (whey). And then a few creative variations of the L word thrown in for good measure.
Bad Robin Eggs!
The worst part? I can't even lick 'em and paint.
Easter chocolate bad
when lactose intolerant;
no more Robin Eggs.
It all started innocently enough, as most of my adventures do, with a trip to Target.
I passed a display of Easter candy.
It spoke to me. Audibly.
"Come ... and buy ... and you will be made happy."
It wasn't too far from the truth. Whoppers Robin Eggs always make me smile. When my cousin Robyn (no relation to the candy) and I were little, we had this special thing we'd do where we'd lick them and paint our faces. (OK, that sounds a lot grosser than it was back then. No wonder our mamas were so leery of us wearing make-up!)
So when I bought the Robin Eggs, I intended to share this tidbit with Kendall so we could relive this fun childhood memory. Except I ate about a dozen of them first. And got really, really sick - as in just as bad as before the gall bladder exodus of December 2007 - the one that subsequently made me lactose intolerant.
I crawled into bed and lay very, very still. Eventually, I went to sleep and dreamed that little gnomes wearing spiked shoes were walking all over me. When I woke up, I felt well enough to help Bobby search for clues.
"You didn't dip into any queso at lunch yesterday, did you," asked my queso-loving husband, secretly happy to have more of the amazing Ted's appetizer for himself on Monday press lunches.
"No!" said me.
I recounted the rest of the day, food-wise. No cheese, no milk, no dinner, because I was feeling gross.
Um ....
And then I remembered the Robin Eggs.
I picked up the bag. A puddle of milk had formed on the kitchen counter underneath it. I heard evil laughter.
The label dripped with the dreaded L word (lactose). Followed by the M word (milk, malted milk) and the W word (whey). And then a few creative variations of the L word thrown in for good measure.
Bad Robin Eggs!
The worst part? I can't even lick 'em and paint.
Saturday, February 09, 2008
Friday, February 08, 2008
Beware: razor-sharp humor ahead
(from Tamie)
Ten and a half months later, after x-rays, tests, therapy, more tests, a couple of parental surgeries, etc., today is FIX IT DAY for Brady's left knee. The hard-fought-for MRI he got last week showed a cartilage tear. Depending on the location, size, etc. his doctor will either repair it or remove it - we won't know until afterward.
He's in surgery right now. Here's a cute photo of him in a gown, trying to distract himself with his iPod from the IV he knew was coming at any moment.
I can't help but think of the last time he had surgery. He was 21 months old then. Ear tubes! The nurses gave him a "cocktail" before he went back to have the procedure done and he stumbled around the waiting area like a tipsy toddler for 30 minutes or so. Bobby and I laughed SO hard at him that day!
Now he's all grown up, having to have his knee shaved. He was just thankful that was all they shaved, after what his Dad had suggested last night might happen. ;o)
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Sojourn to Saltillo
(from Bobby)
I enjoyed a blessed trip to Saltillo, Mexico, and nearby rural mountain villages this week as I worked on a future Chronicle story on an incredible ministry to help build churches for our neighbors to the south. I'll save the details for the story planned for our April issue. But I have posted some pictures from the trip below.
I was privileged to meet so many dedicated, hard-working Christians from the Sunset church in Springfield, Mo., and two other area congregations. We didn't exactly rough it -- as we stayed in a nice Hampton Inn in Saltillo, where we watched the Super Bowl on a Spanish language Fox Sports channel and the Super Tuesday election results (thankfully) on an English-speaking CNN International.
I roomed with Sunset minister Joe Bright and enjoyed driving from Oklahoma City to Saltillo -- with a Saturday night stay and Sunday morning worship in Nuevo Laredo -- with other Sunset members. I caught a bus from the hotel to the Monterrey airport yesterday morning and flew home in time for dinner. I have enjoyed my travels of recent weeks, but am happy to be home with my beautiful wife and children for a while.
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