Listen up!

We always knock beauty pagent floosies but I wanted to post this clip because it really spoke to me about a huge issue in North America, well, the world: education.
It's a super short clip so check it out--it will really inspire you. I promise.

When the body says 'what the hell is your problem?'

I've learned something interesting about myself this weekend.

I was asked to start working for family on Wed. and on Thursday I was in the office. But by Friday I called it quits. Yes, perhaps I am a bit of a quitter--just ask my ex's--but it was MORE than that. My body was saying for me what I couldn't say with my voice: I don't want to do this.

I'm in a very clear season of studying and preparing to take my midwifery exams in February. In fact, it's so clear to me that I'm supposed to be focused on my education that I've stepped down from a couple things I've been involved in and turned down offers to get involved in new things.

Yet when this job came along with it's nice hourly wage and perks I thought why shouldn't I take this job? It would be illogical to NOT take this job. I SHOULD take this job. My father would want me to--he would think it was the right thing.
But in my gut, what's left of it, I knew I didn't need to and shouldn't take this job because I had made a commitment to my education and nothing should distract me.

But I went into work--it was fun. I had a good time for a first day and things looked really promising until the next day when my body said 'no'.
That's a book by the way--a very highly recommended and fascinating book about stress and how the body will say 'no' for us when we don't have the courage to say it ourselves. Check it out--When the Body Says No by Gabor Mate.

Anyway. This is a cool discovery for me and I think it's interesting how the body is so intertwined with the conscience and heart that it will speak out on its behalf if necessary. I know this isn't a phenomenon just isolated to me--I know we all experience it in different ways. So I encourage you to check this book/link out.

On the note of health--I'm finally seeing a chiropractor for the three car accidents I've been in in ths last two years. Here I am at my first appointment. As you can see I'm really slimming down. However, the rapid weight loss really aged my skin.


Dr: So, what brings you here today?
Me: Uh a sore back and neck.
Dr: Alright, any idea what may have caused it? Any kind of stress or trauma?
Me: Uhhhh...I think it's from a car accident I was in.
Dr: Could be. Whip-lash?
Me: Well the first one was a rear-ending. The second a t-bone and the third was a motorcycle accident.
Dr: Have you seen someone about these....three accidents already?
Me: No.
Dr: But you've been in three car accidents?
Me: Yes.....I have issues with chiropractors. I'm afraid they're going to accidentally kill me.
Dr: Ah.

And here is a picture from a textbook from the chapter on correcting whip-lash. In this case the chiropractor attempted to crack the neck but clearly just killed the patient. Thus are the occupational hazards of chiropractors.
And lastly--as a little bit of history for you--Port Perry, my adolescent home town of horror, is home to the founder of Chiropractry, Mr. Palmer.
On a completely different note Port Perry is also home to the founders of S&M.

This is the scene I happed upon yesterday morning. Too cute. TOO cute that it's DISGUSTING.
No, I'm just making fun of 'too cute'. What does that mean anyway? Can something go from being cute to TOO cute and therefore hideous? I'm indifferent.
&
Last night I said goodbye to my Little Dancing Cheesecake, Naomi, along with her cousin Alison. We danced the night away at a seedy little bar in downtown Hamilton--Absinthe. Tacky, eh? But when the tunes are from Al Green, Blood Sweat & Tears and Stevie Wonder you really can't go wrong.

We danced the night away, literally and it wasn't until I crash in bed at 3:45am that I remembered that I had a doctor's appointment at 8:30am in Ancaster. Miraculously I got to Ancaster in time only to get very very lost for 45 minutes. Google done me wrong. Real wrong. In fact I wrote those rat bastards a letter.
Anywho--it's not 10:13am and I'm dying a slow death. But I can't sleep yet. An unemployed person's work is never done.

36 hr crash-parenting...

My brother and sinister-in-law (ha...just thought that up, but it's not true. She's great) have gone to Vegas for a few days and have entrusted the care of their 3 boys into my capable hands.

I'm so domestic.

Here are a few things I've learned:
1)being 2 minutes late to pick kids up from school is borderline child neglect for a 6 year old.

2)children ARE cuter when they're sleeping

3)no matter what you're having for dinner, you WILL be making different dinners for as many children as are eating. Ie. three boys= three different ways to make speghetti and meatballs.

4)on average it's impossible to escape to the bathroom for no more than 7-8 seconds before your absence is detected. Then the rest of your time in the bathroom WILL be spent watching and praying that the lock on the bathroom door handle won't give in under the weight of a 3 year-old hanging on it. And sure enough, upon exiting the bathroom minutes after repeating 'Just a sec....just one more second...' over and over again there WILL be items lined up at the threshold of the door--items such as dinky cars ("These, these, these, these, these....these are my favowits.") In the event of a meltdown (most likely) while you're in the bathroom sure enough there will be a child cowering against the door who inevitably forgets all woes once the door opens.

5)in the dead of night it's possible to be aware of a child in your room staring at you sleeping yet not actually wake up.

Those are just a few gems I've picked up in the last 36 hours. Who knows what's to come!

So, in the mission-field front, I am NOT going to South America for Christmas. Annnnd I think it's pretty unlikely I'll be going to South Africa for a month either. But, seeing I'm not the matriarchal figure in the family I'm stil trying to arrange a christmas get-away (from family) trip to Oregon. We'll see.

Thanksgiving is my favourite holiday anyway.

Goodbye Summer. You were a hot lover.

This is my farewell salut to summer---blueberries in hand.

I want to be napping right now, but I'm not. Naps on Sunday are mandatory for all childless people, as far as I'm concerned.

I don't really have much to say--I just felt obligated to write.
At the moment I'm suffering from eating-too-much pains---consisting of Jalapeno Doritos, pizza and iced tea. Needless to say I feel pretty hot.

An opportunity to go to South Africa has come up. Through my traveling-buddy Ames I've been offered to apply for a position as a medical person (whoa...) on a month long mission trip to work with AIDS orphans and vulnerables. Sounds pretty good. That, however, would mean I couldn't go on my trip to South America over Christmas.
Sigh.
Well, TECHNICALLY I could go to both, but that's just asking for trouble.

Right now it's raining outside mixed with bursts of semi-tempid air. I'm reluctant to see summer go. I only got a month of it, remember. Gerrit told me winter was coming no matter what so I'd better deal with it. His words struck my core like a snowball hitting a frozen flag-pole. Yup. That's my analogy.
He's right of course. But there's nothing more satisfying than running out the door in flipflops and a sundress. There's no need for coats, and boots, and gloves in summer. No extra bulk. Just...freedom.
This post sucks.
I'm going to have a nap and hopefully the Lord will impart something radical that I can add to this post later.