It's Just A Little Kiss

What happens when you get a little too close to Boz...

It starts out as a great photo op....





And then you blow in his face trying to get him to 'pose'...



And then you get the kiss. It's just a little kiss....



But, ewwwwwww...

Fishing, Guns, Ticks And Grenades: My Son's Virginia Vacation

Yesterday was a big day for me as my 13 year old son was coming home from Virginia after spending a month with my brother and his family. I had to head to the Portland airport to pick him up, which round trip equals nearly seven hours of driving. But it was well worth it because of the time spent with my son and listening to the stories of what a bunch of teenage boys do in rural Virginia to pass the days of summer.

(As many of you know, my brother and his wife have 12 kids with number 13 on the way. You can catch a glimpse into their life as a big, loving, never-a-dull-moment familyhere.)

Anyway, when we first talked about Killian heading out for a month, the old line, 'what's one more?' was somewhere in the conversation, and a week after school, Killian headed out to Virginia. Well, Killian had a really incredible time and it will be a month with the cousins that he will never forget. I wanted to share a few highlights from his trip.

1. When your nephew tells you, "We're going to experiment with a water bottle some vinegar and baking soda to try and make an airsoft grenade . Killian and I are going to make history or die trying." you should take them very seriously. And yes, vinegar does ruin the lawn.

2. Six boys fishing in a three-man unlicensed boat is basically a game of hide and seek from the boat cops. "Mom, you'd be proud of us. We didn't even use the shotgun to catch fish."

3. Calvary Chapel puts on an awesome youth camp. Killian knew it was going to be a good time when the camp director gave them the following tips:
"Do not to go running around outside in the woods at night. We have a bear problem."

"If you find a long black snake wrapped around your ankle, don't be afraid. If you find a diamondback rattler wrapped around your ankle, be VERRRY afraid."

4. A favorite past time in the car was the Roadkill game. It went something like this:
- One point for identifying the roadkill.
- Two points for identifying the sex.
All before you drive by it.

When I asked Killian, "Ok, so you see a possum on the side of the road and it's not on it's back. How in the world do you know what sex it is?"

His reply, "Mom, it's a natural hick instinct."

There you have it.

5. A neighbors tree crashed through my brother's fence and smashed a window during a horrific rain storm two nights before Killian had to leave. In Killian's words, "It was the hottest day of the whole month and we spent all day cleaning up the mess and cutting up that tree. But it ended up being a real blessing because Uncle Matt got to know the neighbor."

6. Bottle rockets will shoot off sideways if they are not secured deep inside the ant hill. If you light them pointing into the ant hill it kills more that way.

7. Eight boys. Eight Airsoft guns. A gazillion BB's. Good times.

8. There was a sighting of a guy who drives a truck completely painted in the Confederate flag. "Mom, that's enough to make a Redneck cry."

9. Getting your first tick is like coming of age. "Mom, you just light a match, blow it out and stick it on the tick. They come right out. No big deal." Mmmmmkay.

10. Killian's parting words to his cousins, who now consider him their brother, "Guys, I love you like a Redneck loves NASCAR."

Killian is already planning next years trip out to Virginia. After all, there are ant hills to conquer, bigger and better airsoft bombs to make and maybe they'll go for a new record of ten in the boat. Just leave the shotgun at home.

It's Too Hot To Cook

Unless it is this.

Since I am a baseball widow for the next several days (Jon will be out of town spitting sunflower seed shells and watching his son play in the Little League All-Stars State Playoffs) I get to enjoy the luxury of either cooking whatever I want or not cooking at all. The latter never appeals to me and after working in the garden and pulling weeds in the yard all day yesterday, I thought I would treat myself to a big bowl of pasta.

My zucchini and squash aren't quite ready yet so I had to buy some, but yes, that is my home grown basil and it is pretty darn fantastic!

Lemon Basil Pasta
1 Medium Zucchini, Sliced
1 Medium Yellow Squash, Sliced
3 Cloves Garlic, Minced
1/2 Cup Fresh Basil Leaves, Chopped
1 Lemon, Zested and Cut In Half
1/4 Cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil, Plus 2 Tablespoons
1 13 oz Box of Multigrain Penne Rigate Pasta
Salt and Pepper
Parmesan Cheese, Freshly Grated

Cook pasta according to directions (until al dente), drain and set aside.

In a bowl, combine lemon zest and the juice of the lemon. Slowly whisk in olive oil. Add to pasta and toss to coat.

In a skillet, heat the two tablespoons of olive oil and add garlic. Heat for about 30 seconds and add zucchini and squash. Saute until vegetables are slightly crisp. Remove from heat and stir in basil. Add to pasta and stir. Top with fresh Parmesan and salt and pepper to taste.

A Girl Rejected: The Hope Road Trip Part 1

Most days, the young girl sat alone at the edge of the grassy field. On occasion, some of the girls would allow her into their small circles of friends during the lunch recess, but only until the bell rang, summoning them to their afternoon classes. She knew she didn't really fit in anywhere, but desperate for friendship, she was willing to take what she could get.

Class was her safe haven. A refuge from the halls where other girls drifted to their friends lockers to catch up between classes, gossip and share the notes they received from 'that' boy. When the bell rang, she rushed to her locker to exchange the math book for her social studies book, and then slammed the locker door nearly running to the next class.

Lunch was even worse. Finding a table with room next to someone who was a remote acquaintance was all she could focus on. And then the dreaded lunch recess. Losers sat by themselves. And she knew she was one.

As long as she could remember, she was the chubby kid that others teased and poked fun of. And it was an extremely deep wound that she kept well hidden.

It was about this time that she befriended a few girls in her youth group that attended the same school as her. And they were in with the popular girls. Slowly, she began stopping by their lockers to chat, sat at the next-table-over from them at lunch and even attended a few of their birthday parties. But lunch recess was still off limits. You see, nobody got to hang out with the popular girls at recess unless they invited you in. And man, did she want to be invited.

The day came when one of the girls invited her to hang out with them at recess. She was excited and nervous but after lunch, walked out to the group of girls and joined in on the games, laughter and talk. It was one of the best school days ever.

That night at youth group, one of the girls took her aside and said, "Um, some of the girls were talking and they just said that you don't really fit in right now. But that maybe if you lost some weight you could hang out with us."

********************************************************************

Last weekend, Jon and I spent the evening with a couple who are close friends of ours. In fact, one of them, I have known as far back as I can remember - we grew up together. We were talking about childhood wounds and I shared this story with them.

Wounds come in different forms. Teasing, abuse, a harsh word spoken out of anger by a parent, an insult, gossip, and the list goes on. For me, it was rejection. And the rejection I felt at that moment, coupled with the rejection of every other year spent in school would dictate how my life would play out for many years to come.

My View From The Cheap Seats

This was my view of the local baseball game last night and once the sun decided to hang out a little closer to the mountainous horizon it was quite enjoyable.

To be honest, baseball is not my favorite sport. But, this is a team of college boys playing in the wooden bat league, and with a view like this, who doesn't enjoy some small town (OK, maybe medium town) baseball. In my opinion, this is what the sport is about. Young men playing baseball with REAL bats and entertaining the locals, the announcer giving out prizes for the correct answer to baseball trivia, kids getting down to the Chicken dance, crazy mascots running around, chatting with the strangers around you, cold beer (although overpriced) and peanuts in the shell.

Now that's how I like to enjoy viewing my mountains on a warm summer evening.

A Man In Search Of Hope: The Hope Road Trip Part 2

I'm not sure what I expected would happen after sharing my encounter with Jimmy* (not his real name) last Thursday, but it certainly wasn't what happened the following morning. In case you haven't read about how I met Jimmy I encourage you to read Part One.

Friday morning, prior to work, I posted a link on my Facebook of the blog post that told about my encounter with Jimmy. Honestly, I was somewhat hesitant to do so because I tend to avoid 'promoting' my blog on Facebook. But the 'prompting' I felt outweighed the hesitancy and up went the link.

Within an hour of posting the link, my phone rang and it was my brother.

"Scotty. What's up?"

"Annie. What are you doing?"

"Oh, you know. Living the dream. You?"

"I'm heading to work."

"Guess you're living the dream to huh?"

"You know it. (chuckling) I read your Facebook this morning. The story about the guy that came into your work yesterday."

"Oh, yeah. That kind of bummed me out."

"You have his name and number right?"

"Yeah. What's up?"

"Well, I know a gal that runs an outreach program and I'm going to send her an email about this guy. I'll include the link to your post. I think she can maybe help him out."

"Wow. That would be cool."

"Yeah. I'll call you when I hear from her."

Two hours later, my phone rang again.

"Scotty."

"Annie, I talked to my friend and she wants this guy's name and number. She said she thinks she can help him. She knows of some programs for people with disabilities and may be able to put him to work doing some things for her outreach program."

"Seriously? That is awesome."

I gave my brother Jimmy's information and asked him to keep me posted if he heard anything else from his friend.

Saturday, my brother called me back to say that his friend had contacted Jimmy and was going to have him come out and do some volunteer work for her. Because she runs a non-profit, she can't afford to pay him, but she is going to contact some other organizations on Jimmy's behalf in hopes of finding employment for him.

I'm excited for Jimmy and am very thankful for people who are willing to help a fellow man. Perhaps Jimmy will find the job he so desperately desires and I'd like to believe that there is a glimmer of hope in Jimmy's eyes now.

All because someone will, indeed, give him a chance.

A Man In Search Of Hope: The Hope Road Trip Part 1

My office lies somewhat off of the beaten path. So, unless someone has business with my particular department, I don't see many visitors throughout my work day.

Today, as I was working at my desk, I noticed a man pull up on his bike. I vaguely recognized him and thought maybe he was one of our substitute workers bringing in a time sheet.

As he walked into the reception area, he looked at me through my office window and asked if the boss was in. I immediately knew he was not an employee but the face...where did I know him from?

I got up from my desk and walked out of my office to see how I could help this man. As we began speaking, I knew right away that this man had endured some things. You see, not only was his speech slow, deliberate and difficult, but I looked into his eyes. I think you can tell a lot by a persons eyes and what I saw was hopeless desperation.

He began to tell me that he was looking for work and even though he receives disability because of an accident a few years ago, he just wanted someone to give him a chance.

"Ma'am, I..I...I'm a h..hard worker. I c..c..can wash windows, and..and..push a broom. I did janitor...janitor...janitor work. I...(closing his eyes)...made mistakes. But I want to prove myself. I will volunteer. F..f...or a year. Please."

This is how the conversation went for several minutes. This man told me many times he had made mistakes but that he wanted to prove himself. He stumbled over his words, wiped the spit from his mouth and a few times closed his eyes as if willing the thoughts to come, and said, "what's the word I'm looking for..."

It finally dawned on me where I new this man from. Church. And at this point in the conversation, the reality hit me that most people would have judged this person to be mentally unstable or even crazy. But that isn't how I saw him.

He mentioned an accident and his actions were like those of a stroke victim. This man isn't crazy, he is desperate. And falling into hopelessness.

As we talked further, I encouraged him to talk to our Human Resources department.

"I...I...I've d..done that. They..they, w...won't talk to me."

"P..Please, can you t..t..talk to your boss. I..I..I will work hard. I c..c..can do lots of things."

I realized that sending this man elsewhere was not what he wanted. What he wanted was to know that I was going to talk to my 'boss' and put in a good word for him.

He then asked me if he could give me his name and number and would I please, just talk to my boss and put in a good word for him. As I mulled over what to say next, I looked him in the eyes and said, "Yes. I will talk to my boss."

A glimmer of hope crossed his face, and he asked if he could give me his name and telephone number in case we would be willing to hire him to work for us. As I handed him some paper and a pen my heart felt heavy because the reality of the situation was that his hope was very, very temporary because most likely we could do nothing to help him.

Tomorrow, I will talk to my boss because I gave the man my word. What started out as hopelessness and turned into a glimmer of hope will end in one more frustration and perhaps add another notch of desperation to a man who just wants someone to give him a chance.

It seemed to take some time for him to write his name and number on the paper I had given him. As he handed me the paper, he smiled and said, "I'll work hard." I returned the smileand said, "I believe you."

He said 'thank you,' and turned to leave. As I watched him walk out the door I looked down at the paper.

Written below his name were the words,"Please give me a chance."