Blush

A friend just sent me an email about her mission trip that made the lone dramatic tear roll down my cheek.

"I cried. I'm REALLY hormonal right now!", I replied.

...to ALL of the people she sent the email to.

Oops.

Gun and Bear It

I tried posting this a couple of weeks ago, but Blogger was down so you're getting it now...

Granted, I work in one of the most ghetto commercial districts of Lakewood. We've had cops storm our building to do reconnaissance on the pay-by-the-hour motel next door. We've had pimps drop their ho's out in our parking lot to start their daily walk. We've had thefts of our scrap metal from old furnaces. We've had boxes from blow-up dolls (complete with real life pictures of boobies) just hanging around outside. But somehow I never expected to see this...

Yesterday I started to drive home and suddenly came across a scene you think you'll only see in a movie. Three ordinary cars were pulled to the side of the road and a large man was standing on the sidewalk, casually holding a double barrel shot gun. Two other men were on either side of one of the cars, each pointing a handgun in through the front broken windows. I was beyond shocked at what I was witnessing. I got out of there as quickly as possible due to the proximity of mere feet between me and several guns and the fear of what might happen should I linger. Later on, I found the news story and it turned out that they were bounty hunters who had killed the man in the car. I pieced together the story with what I had seen and realized that I had arrived on the scene mere seconds after the shooting. I love that it was mere blocks from my office. (You can check out news coverage at: http://www.komonews.com/news/19196164.html )

Oh, but that wasn't the end of my excitement. The following day, I was in the parking lot of the Safeway by my house and all of a sudden 6-8 police cars pull up to the espresso stand. About 10 officers get out and draw their weapons. Half had hand guns and the other half had rifles. They started yelling and shouting to some people to get down. It took about 5 minutes, but they eventually got an elderly couple to the ground, cuffed them and put them in a police car. It was a thrilling thing to witness. I can't believe 2 in 2 days!!!!!!! What the heck? (My original email to people immediately after seeing the episode had "what the f**k" in it, but I decided to soften my words since there has been a bit of a time away from the thrill of the situation and my disbelief has lessened somewhat).

My, What Red Cheeks You Have

I blush all the time. Really, every day. I don't even have to be embarrassed and I blush. I would like to think that it is a becoming pinkening of my cheeks, but in reality it is a full-blown fire engine red that makes me hot (and I do mean that in the literal sense of the word). I only have to be caught off guard and I suddenly bloom with color. Today was no exception.

Scene: Sitting at my desk at work
Characters: Me & Warehouse Boy & Fun Supplier Man (one of the people I talk to multiple times a day on the phone to order equipment for installations)

Angie is on hold on the phone, waiting for Fun Supplier Man to pick up. Warehouse Boy is standing at her desk and chitchatting with her. He then finds a very used Jack (In The Box) antenna ball behind her computer monitor that he had previously given her (don't ask).

Warehouse Boy: What's this doing here?
Angie: Oh, it's been there for a long time. I had forgotten it was back there.

Angie crinkles her nose at the sight of this disgustingly dirty ball. Warehouse Boy sets it on the counter to stare its beady little eyes at her. Angie, still on hold, attempts to gingerly grab it by the nose to toss it in the trash. It rolls away lopsidedly. She tries again.

Angie (saying low under her breath with disgust in her voice): I don't even want to touch it!

Warehouse Boy chuckles

Fun Supplier Man (having suddenly come on the line the exact moment Angie started talking and having heard the following male chuckle): Whoa! What's that? What don't you want to touch and who's is it?

Cue Angie's blush.

Angie (laughing and stuttering all at once): Um... wow, that was bad timing... I'm turning bright red right now.

Angie becomes so flustered that she doesn't even think to explain what's going on to Fun Supplier Man and instead just gives him her equipment order. Her blush fades and she laughs to herself. Yet more proof that her timing in life is comedic and cringe-worthy all at the same time.

And then the cops showed up...

Oh, the fun I have with my youth group! Tonight it was at my place because Kent was out of town. Having experienced the String Game, the girls were eager for the boys to join in the devious twisting and turning necessary to play. I obliged and we set off on a rousing game that involved some stomping, yelling, and at one point a tickle fight (in typical youth group fashion). Due to my foot injury, I was not able to participate but instead sat in a comfy chair near the front door. Forest and Holly seized that opportunity to use me as a prop and wrap me up in yarn-- around my arms, legs, and even my glasses. I sat there immobile, when suddenly there was a knock on the door. Expecting it to be someone from our group, I yelled for someone else to open it. Ashlynn obliged and was able to yank it open a smidgen, despite the string all around it.

Dead silence.

Not being able to move to see, I asked sing-songingly, "who is it? who is it?".

"Police," said a deep male voice.

At that point my heart stopped and I struggled with all my might against the yarn holding me hostage. I managed to bend forward enough to crane my neck around and look at the cop staring at me. (I don't know why he would be staring at someone entirely covered with yarn. I mean really, they must see that all the time.)

He continued, "We have had a report of domestic violence at this address. Someone was yelling, 'get off of me'."

"I'm sorry officer, we are a youth group playing a game. What was heard was someone being tickled." At that point I went on to apologize profusely to him for having to come out, while trying to maintain some dignity as I talked from an entirely awkward position.

The officer standing behind him piped up, "are you sure this is a church thing?" Good natured chuckles ensued.

I thanked them for doing their duty and we said our goodbyes. I immediately wanted to go to the neighbor to apologize but was still trapped. I had to sit there for another 20 minutes until all of the yarn around me was untangled. I put together a plate of Oreo Truffles and brought them downstairs where both my neighbor and I swapped embarrassed sorrys. I gave her the peace offering and turned to find Jess coming home from a meeting, standing at the base of our stairs with her jaw by her knees, obviously having overheard my exchange with the neighbor. I could barely walk over to her for the bout of giggles I had and got to explain to her my very first domestic disturbance call. Oh, the fun I have with my youth group!

It Looks Like A Crime Scene

Should a member of CSI decide to search our home for evidence of murder, they just might find some, in the form of cleaned up blood. That's right, we'd be no match for those fancy lights that can illuminate human fluids. Why, you might ask? Well let me tell you a story...

About an hour ago I was turning from the stove to the sink with a pot of pasta to drain when I suddenly felt a piercing pain in my toe. I yelped and spilled half the water on the floor but managed to flood the rest into the strainer waiting in the sink. I yanked off my sock and found a long piece of glass sticking out my toe. How there was glass just laying on our floor is a mystery to me. I yanked it out and immediately was greeted with gushes of blood. As in it started dripping onto the throw rug underneath me. I quickly used my discarded sock to staunch the flow, but had to somehow make it to the bathroom for bandaids. I managed to do a hop/hobble combination with the sock firmly in place, but it proved to be no match for the river flowing from my wound. A blood trail followed me all the way to my destination and as I sat on the floor, rifling through our cabinets for something, please God something, to stop the steady stream, a pool formed under my foot. I found some hydrogen peroxide (thank you Jesus) and used it to avoid a nasty infection, but I was still coming up empty with a big enough band aid. Why, oh why, did I not get the giant ones I was contemplating in Rite Aid just last week (no joke)? I frantically searched Jess' drawers to no avail when I was struck with a very Girl-Scout-in-a-crisis-mode solution-- feminine products! I grabbed one, tore off the back, and wrapped it around my toe with a big sigh of relief. Praise God for being female!

I kept my bloody sock for Jess to see since she was not with me in my moment of need and thought that I could give you all a picture (literally) of what I went through tonight...

Uh, We Lied...

Know how we just got done saying that we had the best Christmas Card idea ever? Well, we were wrong. It looked good online and sounded hilarious when we discussed it, but once we received it, we saw how completely awful the product was. Now that I have just mailed the box back and you won't be getting them, I'll just come out and tell you that they were.... whoopee cushions. That's right people, whoopee cushions! Tell me that's not a genuinely funny idea, especially with our message on it:

I personally was holding out to put "Merry Christm-ass" (please tell me you get that) as the greeting, but Jess vetoed the idea. Granted, I also think some of my relatives might have a coronary if they saw it, so I had to reluctantly agree. But you have to admit it was a brilliant play on words.

So why did we return them you ask? For several reasons, one of them being the size of the writing on the cushions:

Uh, yeah. We could barely read it too (and we have young eyes). We would have had to supply magnifying glasses with our cushions and that would have gotten even more pricey. However, they did come in a nice assortment of colors that were pleasing to look at.

Still, the bold and bright colors did nothing to add to the actual function of the cushions. In fact, not much would. At times when you sat on an inflated cushion, nothing would happen. It was just a hard nobbin of air underneath you. At other times, a gigantic rip-roaring blast would erupt that sounded absolutely un-human. Seriously, if someone emitted a sound such as the one produced by this cushion, I would be afraid that they had just torn apart their butt. Let me tell you... this was no "Bronx Cheer"...

Now we just have to figure out what to do instead. Sigh.