I don't think my car likes my perfume...

My car, on it's own volition, is locking me out!

Here's the saga.  You might want to grab a beverage...cause it's fresh, and I'm venting.

First of all, let me just say that 90% of the time I leave my house in the morning only to head back in and grab something I forgot.  Phone, lunch, water bottle, computer, whatever.  It makes me feel like I'm losing it, but I've come to embrace it.  So have my kids.  This summer they learned that "Mom always leaves twice."  Even my dog, who is safely locked in his kennel, doesn't even look up any more when I head back in.  I know there are ways to be more together and organized, but apparently I don't feel like doing them.  So there.  That's me.

OK, with that little disclaimer out of the way, let me tell you what went down this week.  On Monday, I got in my car in the garage, started the engine, was about to pull out and realized my phone didn't come with me.  So I got out, closed the door and headed in to grab it.  As I came around the back side of the van, I heard all the doors lock on their own.  What???  Sure enough.  For reasons only known to God and perhaps the maker of my car, my car decided to lock me out.  So now, my car is running and locked, with everything I need for the day inside.  Except my phone of course.  And the gas tank was down to fumes--I was headed to the gas station first.  Yikes.

Hubby quickly came home from work (2o minute drive--thanks babe!) and rescued me.  Although the car wouldn't unlock for him at first either...at least not with the key fob.  We had to go all old-school and use the key IN the lock and TURN it to get it open.  Prehistoric!

He followed me to the gas station to make sure the fumes held out, and then I was on to my day.  I got to work 40 minutes later than planned, but no harm, no foul.  I made sure to tell my coworkers so they could have a laugh.

I'm too mad at my car to take it's picture...but here is what it looks like.

Tuesday.  No problems.  Asked teasingly at work if my car gave me any trouble that day...

And then Wednesday.  The plan for the morning was this:  leave my house by 8:10 to meet my parents and sister at Compassion International (where my dad works) to attend chapel.  Chapel was to be led by Travis Cottrell (musician/worship leader extraordinare that I just might be a big fan of...).  Chapel was at 9, seats go quickly.  After chapel I was to head quickly to Panera to meet someone who was interested in serving on my Children's Ministry team  (yes!).  Then, as soon as that was over, I was to meet a dear friend for lunch who recently returned from a few years in Rwanda.  I was finally going to get into the office around 1--but that's OK.  I had the schedule worked out almost down to the minute.

I was ready in plenty of time.  I remembered (almost) everything...a sweater in case the a/c was on artic blast, an extra pair of shoes if my feet got tired of the heels before I reached the office, my purse, my computer AND my phone.  This time the car was in the driveway.  I turned it on, put it in reverse and thought...I should grab a water bottle.  Put the car in park, and thought to myself, "I'm not letting this happen again" so turned the car OFF and got out and grabbed my water.  As I tried to get back into the car I noticed it was locked again!  What in the world?!?  Am I getting punked??  At least I grabbed the keys this time...wait, where are they?  In the ignition of course!  I guess I didn't grab them!  I was about to spend some time getting on my own case about how stupid I was--when I realized the clock was ticking until Travis!

Travis Cottrell

A few quick phone calls later (thankfully we still have a home phone line) and I was being rescued by both my folks (who picked me up for chapel) and my husband who drove home AGAIN to unlock the car.

Now is my opportunity to tell you my parents are saints.  Here's what they did...their own plan.  They picked me up for chapel.  Took me to chapel.  Vouched for me when I needed a photo ID to get a visitor pass.  (I have one...in my purse, in my car.  With my sweater.  And my phone.   And my KEYS.)  After the chapel, they waited around while I took the opportunity to shake Travis's hand and talk to him for a bit.  (!)  Then they drove me to Panera for my appointment there (not that I had my purse to buy this lady a cup of coffee or anything, but whatever). While I was talking Children's Ministry in Panera, they drove to my house where my car had been unlocked by hubby, and picked up my car.  They both drove to Panera again and left me my car.  My mom came into Panera to find me and give me my keys and purse.  And I was back on schedule with all of my appropriate possessions, IDs and what was left of my sanity.  Aren't they awesome??

my awesome parents

So, what's the deal with my car?  Does it think I spray a little too much perfume in the morning?  Is it mad I haven't cleaned it out in weeks?  Is it out to inconvenience me or simply humble me?

No answers yet.

But I do wonder if it's related to the car I had between college and marriage that used to honk at me from my driveway.  When I was inside our house.  My roommate used to say,  "Dawn, your car wants you!"  Hmmm.  That was a honda, and so is my van...

Well congratulations, you made it.  I'm done venting.  I hope this made you feel encouraged that at least your car likes you...

The Christmas Carol Dilemma

I get to work with kids. Great kids. And I love them. The joy they give me is the gift I'm unwrapping today as part of Tuesdays Unwrapped at Chatting at the Sky.

I work as a Children's Ministry Director at our church. We are not a huge church, so I am able to know all of the kids personally--all of their names and most of their personalities. I have known many of these kids for a long while, some since they were born. What a privilege.

This past Sunday I was the speaker in the services--doing first person talks as Mary. The kids choir also prepared a song as part of the service. They knew they were singing on the same day I was speaking...and it was part of their rehearsals to pray for me. Kid's prayers are precious and they warmed my heart. It was an honor to have them lifting me in prayer as I prepared.

Well this Sunday came, and I couldn't have been prouder of them as they sang. We don't normally have a kids choir--they just assembled for this song. They did such a great job singing "Waiting for Christmas". A last minute decision was made that the kiddos would stay up front for the singing time--it was a few Christmas Carols. They didn't practice any of these...but the words would be projected on the screens and they were told to just follow along.

I was backstage getting into Mary garb as they sang, so I didn't see what happened. But when I went to see some of them in their 5th and 6th grade classroom during Sunday School, I was bombarded. First, I was bombarded with "Good job" and "I liked your talk" and "You were a great Mary". How awesome is that? They were totally engaged with it. How sweet of them to encourage me. It was the most meaningful feedback of the day.

But then, the encouragement switched to--"Miss Dawn, did you hear what happened to us???" (imagine this being said in different voices and word choices all at the same time). I wondered what might have happened. I found out soon enough. "Miss Dawn--they made us sing a bad word!!" "I didn't know what to do!" " I just closed my mouth." "Me too!" "I got the giggles". "I couldn't finish the song." 'I never say bad words." Again...all at once.

It turns out one of the songs that was sung was What Child is This. There is a line in that song that says "Where ox and ass are sleeping." They don't say that a-word. So the poor dears were left with a quick decision to make--do we sing that word in front of the whole church? Is this some sort of test? Or do we not sing the word and look like we don't know what we are doing?

Most of them chose the latter--and I heard stories of wide eyes, shocked faces and mouths slammed shut during that word.

I don't know about you, but I think that is HY.STER.I.CAL. Wish I could have seen it. But I think the 15 different versions told in 15 different voices all at the same time might have been even better.

And then when the chattering died down...one lone kid said... "I just sang the word." I love it!

Aaah, kids. I love them. Their joy is contagious and their perspective refreshing. And they are SO funny. What a gift to know these kids.

it happened. seriously. to me.

So...my uber-talented friend Cathy just posted some B-E-A-utiful pictures on her blog from her recent trip to Clearwater Beach. Started me thinking about all the time we have spent there over the years. My hubby's folks live not-too-far from this beach in FL and we have visited many times. The kids both had their first beach days there. And you know, your first beach day is very important, even if you spend the whole day in a stroller under a blanket. And don't even know you were there.

Pickle at Clearwater Beach--1997

Anyway. It also got me thinking about one of the famous "dawn stories" in our family that took place at Clearwater Beach. I figured I would share it for your bloggie enjoyment. There is a wonderful restaurant at the beach called Frenchy's. (Yummmm...grouper sandwiches and buffalo shrimp. And apparently if you are so inclined, the she-crab soup is to die for. ) One day...in 1994 I believe...we were waiting outside for our table at Frenchy's. It was a lovely day, and my sister-in-law Deb and I were reclining on the sand and chatting while we waited. Our hubbies were playing frisbee or something a little ways off. I was leaning back, eyes closed, and enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face, listening to the waves and seagulls, smelling the salt water and suntan lotion. Aaaah...wish I was there now...

Frenchy's Rockaway Grill

I was talking (no surprise there) when all of a sudden I felt a glob of wet sand land in my mouth! I abruptly sat up to tell my hubby it wasn't funny to throw sand...and caught the look of absolute horror on Deb's face. Apparently it wasn't sand. Hubby hadn't thrown anything my way. Then the realization hit me...

Seagull poop. What had landed in my mouth was none other than seagull poop. SEAGULL POOP!!!!

I mean...what is the chance of that? My mouth isn't that big. What did I do, you ask? Spit! and again...Spit! Spit! Deb, being resourceful and trying not to throw up or laugh at me, handed me her daughter's baby bottle of diluted apple juice. I quickly filled my mouth, swished and spit a few more times. I am sure I made a bit of a scene.

Later at the table, as we awaited the arrival of our buffalo shrimp, my bro-in-law asked--so dawn, what did it taste like? I told him the only thing I remembered.

Warm. And gritty.

Not Me! Monday

Today I am participating in Not Me! Monday inspired by McKmama's site, where we are brutally honest and live to tell about it. I'd like to tell you what I didn't do this weekend.

I did not procrastinate away too many hours doing nothing important Friday morning and leave all of my busy day stuff until the afternoon. Not me!

I did not go shopping for my sister and friend's birthdays on the day of and the day after said birthdays. Nope--not me, I plan ahead.

my sweet friend Beth, whose birthday I did not shop a day late for

I did not leave my house messy for a full week after our bout with swine flu--even though I was feeling better. I was not overwhelmed by the disaster left in the piggy's wake.

In the mad rush to get our house somewhat presentable for friends to come over Friday night (after I did not cause myself to be in a rush by the nothing-doing in the morning and did not leave my house a disaster for no good reason), I did not, I repeat did NOT, scoop up the mess and put it all in a rubbermaid tub in my bedroom rather than putting things away. I did not forget to run the dishwasher the night before and this did not cause me to take a bucket of dirty dishes upstairs and put them in my tub (a first, honestly!) right before friends came over. Not me! I am more together than that.

I did not tell our guests what I had done with the dishes. :) That would be embarrassing.

I did not laugh until my sides hurt with my friends on Friday night. I did not get such a kick out what some would describe as jr. high humor. Not me--I'm too mature.

On Sunday morning, I did not get to church (where I work) 10 minutes later than I require my teachers to be there--even though I planned to be there 45 minutes earlier. I did not try to make it seem like my daughter was solely responsible for my being late. That would be exaggerating. Not me.

I did not forget to take attendance, or make arrangements for the church's older kids to join in the missions children's church, or check on the nurseries cause my nursery director had a death in the family. Not me--I am on top of things.

I did not forget to refill my prescription until I was completely out of pills...necessitating a last minute trip to the store. While I was there, I did not buy tissue paper for my sister's gift on the way to her party because my storage room is so messy I couldn't get to the tissue paper I have there. Not me--that would be ridiculous.

Whew! I feel better now. As my 3 year old nephew says, "oh well, maybe next time".

What didn't you do this weekend???

we committed the unpardonable food sin

I value transparency. I believe in the power of bringing things into the light. So, although not without some fear and trepidation, I have a confession to make before God and blogland.

I feel the need to give the back story first. Hubby and I went away for a night this past weekend. Just to a hotel about 45 minutes away. We had things to talk about—some financial planning, etc.—and wanted some uninterrupted time to talk. (read here: we had to treat ourselves to a night away to make ourselves talk about our least favorite subject.). We had a lovely productive afternoon, and were ready for a late dinner and movie on our big flat screen tv in our room. Our hotel was very near The Cheesecake Factory. We don’t have one in our town. We LOVE The Cheesecake Factory. So it was pretty easy to decide that’s what we wanted for dinner…and to make it even more kicked back and fun, we decided to bring the deliciousness in to our room to devour there. Oh yes, we live life on the edge.

But alas, what to have from their monstruous menu?? We decided to skip the entrees, cause we absolutely wanted appetizers and wanted to save room for dessert. Cause the cheesecake from The Factory is like a taste of heaven. Particularly the white chocolate raspberry cheesecake. It’s perfect with diet coke too, in case you are wondering. J

So we are online, looking at the menu and deciding what to order. Here is where the sin first started to sprout in our hearts. (you know, like when Eve started to listen to the serpent in the Garden…)We couldn’t decide and ordered WAY too much. We got us some delicioso corn cakes, and some fried calamari (or as Bubba calls it—crunchy dead squid). Yummmm. Then we ordered an appetizer salad (sounds small, right?) for each of us. And cheesecake for each of us...even though we often split a piece.

Our first clue that we overdid it was that when hubby brought the multiple bags of food into our room, he looked like he had been grocery shopping for a family of four for a week. We laughed—it must be the large packaging— lots of air in those bags.

Our second clue was that there were EIGHT sets of plastic silverware in the bags. This much food? Must be for eight. Oh my goodness. The corn cakes were heavenly and the calamari was all crunchy dead squids should be. The salads were huge (I’m guessing each was to be a salad for several people to appetize on.) We couldn’t finish the salads, but we did some damage.

So, it’s time for the best part—cheesecake!! Yummm. Uh Oh—WAY too full. Hubby too. So we put the cheesecake in the room’s mini fridge for later. We never got over the full. So they stayed in the fridge til morning. Now, I know what you are thinking…the cheesecake made a great breakfast, right? Good thought. Nope—Chick-Fil-A was across the parking lot and was calling our name. We brought that in too, so we could finish our financial stuff. We figured the cheesecake could be for dessert. Again, kinda full. Decided to wait.

And here is my (our) confession. We NEVER ATE THE CHEESECAKE. What a sin! There are people out there who don't have cheesecake! Please don't judge us! At some point in the afternoon as we were shopping we realized that we had checked out of the hotel and the cheesecake was still in the fridge in our room! You could just cry, couldn't you? The little slices of heaven gone to waste! We never get a chance to get cheesecake from The Factory! And it’s quite a treat at $20.00 a slice!! (actually, I don’t think it’s nearly that much, but it is a splurge…especially TWO pieces!!)

I am being somewhat silly here, but in all seriousness, when we discovered what we had left behind, we told each other we could NOT tell ANYONE. We felt so stupid and wasteful. Later we realized we would not be able to quiet our souls until we fessed up. So, thank you bloggies, for reading our tale of over-indulgence and forgotten goodness. Thanks for not judging us. If you ever need to fess up to throwing away good guacamole or leaving a full ice cream container out on the counter to melt, or other such food-sin--I'm totally here for you.

And here's hoping the housekeeping staff was smart enough to sit down and eat the yumminess. Maybe we should have left them the extra forks. We had plenty.

(smile)

Craft!--the new swear word

"Craft!" is a bit of a swear word at work and, consequently, at our house. It is not because I hate crafts (although I must admit I am not big on the Barbie Doll/crocheted toilet paper cover and the like). Or that I can't be crafty--I have been known to spend hours on a single scrapbook page and to wield a glue gun now and again. No, no...it has caught on due to one of many infamous dawn-shouldn't-have-said-that moments.

barbie-doll toilet paper holder

In the name of being REAL and authentic and all that, I must admit I blurt out the occasional c-word. You know the one--it rhymes with trap. I don't think it is a particularly attractive word, and won't let my kids say it, but it does come out of my mouth more than it should. I didn't think it offended anyone as much as sounded less-than-classy. (ya think?) However, I learned fairly recently that there are some close to me that really dislike that word. So, in the name of not causing others to stumble, I try to stifle my yucky-word (or at least feel bad when it slips out). For the record, when you grow up on Long Island--the c-word IS the nice word. But anyhooo...

So, you may have gathered that I work at our church. Sometime last year several of us were invited to a church board meeting to discuss a potentially tricky subject relating to the use of our newish church building's lobby. Since opinions were varied and strong, each of those invited had a chance to share their own perspective one at a time. The others listened carefully and awaited their turn to speak. It was very civilized and we were getting a lot out in the open. One wonderful guy stated that we want to make sure that the lobby didn't end up looking like a"cr*p bazaar". I thought that was interesting, wondering which of the ideas shared so far would make it look all cr*ppy--and what is a cr*p bazaar anyway?!? I dutifully resisted the urge to interrupt and ask for clarification because it wasn't my turn. And it was a board meeting--filled with church leaders who I respect and who employ me as a ministry leader. So I must obey the rules and wait my turn. So...I wrote it down to ask about it when it was my chance to talk.

My turn came.

I directed my comment at wonderful guy, "Can I just ask what exactly you mean by cr*p bazaar?"

The room quickly went silent.

Followed by SEVERAL others correcting me at once. "He said CRAFT bazaar!"

Giggling, I said, "Oh. Well then, that makes more sense..." We all chuckled. I think a few even guffawed.

And I crawled under the table to hide forever.

Not really...I pretended I wasn't embarrassed and made the rest of my comments. (I couldn't miss the chance to say what I thought...) And knew I had to share my flub with my fellow staff members and hubby--who would get great enjoyment from the story. Consequently, they have since adopted CRAFT! along with me as the exclamation of choice when it fits. And everyone enjoys remembering the day dawn "swore" at the board meeting. A classic dawn-moment for sure.

I knew our new swear word had officially made it into our vernacular when in the middle of the night many months later, my hubby's cell phone buzzed loudly on his dresser. Confused, he sleepily stumbled across the room to turn off the alarm clock. I didn't want us to oversleep--so I blurted out--it's not the alarm, it's your phone!

"CRAFT!", he muttered, still half-asleep, as he crawled back under the covers.