I've recently realized one of the beauties of blogging: mention that you like Lofthouse cookies in a post and your SIL, a reader of your blog and the one who drew your name for Christmas, gets you Lofthouse cookies as part of her Christmas present to you. Yes, it's a beautiful thing . . . not necessarily for my waistline, but for my sweet tooth, definitely. Now, if I can just get Seth to read the posts about What I Want, I'll be all set. 
We've been away visiting Seth's family in Ohio for the past few days, so I'm only now getting around to posting our Christmas greetings. Our Christmas card this year was a postcard with this written on the back: Seth’s version of a Christmas card missive: “Hey all, we’re still alive. That’s all you need to know. Merry Christmas.”
Stacia’s version: “Dear friends and family, we’re grateful to the Lord for another year together. Seth is still with Graphic Packaging, and I’m still at Answers in Genesis. For those who don’t know, the Creation Museum is now open, and you’re all invited to come stay with us (at different times, please!) when you’re in the Cincinnati area for a museum visit! (CreationMuseum.org)
“I’ve started a blog (www.notesfromtheholler.blogspot.com) and you’re welcome to stop by and stay up-to-date with Holler Happenings. I would say more, but I’ve run out of space. We enjoy hearing from you all, and trust that you’re continually basking in the love of our Creator and Redeemer.”
Merry Christmas! Love, Seth & Stacia
Today was the annual Christmas party for our division at work. Since Seth has been working long hours the past few days, he didn't have time to make a yummy dessert for me to take. It's not that I'm incapable of making a lovely confection, it's more that I'm lazy. And I was hankering for some Lofthouse cookies--only the best cookies ever. I could eat a whole tray in one sitting--I haven't, but I could. Thankfully, they didn't all get eaten at the party today, so I brought home those remaining to munch on over the next few days . . . or day.
I ended up with the plate-holding Santa. Serves me right for being a Scrooge, I suppose. What I really wanted (besides the battery-operated neck massager) was the auto escape hammer. A few years ago, I bought my mom one for Christmas as we somehow have the same fear. 
I've even contemplated keeping some of my scuba gear in the back seat so that my mask and fins are ready for action when duty calls. When I mentioned that to Seth, he said, "You might as well just wear your dive gear all the time, and then you won't have to worry about grabbing it and putting it on." He has a point.Oh, and is Superphone dead yet? I figured it was his ghost that was invading my dreams last night. I dreamed that my phone had a blob like Superphone. It was a very real-seeming dream.
As I was admiring Superphone's newly aquired blob the other night, Seth informed me in that calm, quiet way of his, "I'm going to shoot Superphone." I didn't ask any more questions because I didn't want to know when or how. I just hope that it happens quickly so that Superphone doesn't suffer. I also hope that it happens before Uberphone comes onto the picture, so that Superphone doesn't get its feelings hurt. Poor, poor Superphone.
Seth has started a male band called the Four Seasons.We've just returned from another session--this time it was a "double apheresis" for Seth, so he's one-upped me yet again. So far, I've managed to remain upright. After the last donation, we stopped by Outback to get my "reward" for donating: Aussie cheese fries. As we were eating the cheesy goodness and waiting for the rest of our food, I started to feel lightheaded and had to lay down on the seat before I toppled over. Rather than being concerned for my well-being, my dear husband became concerned for himself:
Um, what are you doing? . . . No, wait . . . don't, um, don't lie down . . . sit up . . . what . . . c'mon, let's just go out to the car.
Me: [moan]
Waitress: Everything ok with your food?
Seth: I don't think she's feeling well.
Me: [moan]
Waitress: Oh, ok.
Eventually I felt better, Seth paid the bill, and we skeedaddled out the door. After today's donation, Seth wasn't keen on actually eating in at Outback, so we called for take-away (I have Outback's number in my list of contacts for just such occasions) and had the reward brought to the car. No fainting worries, mate.
Kenda recently found out that the answer to that question is yes!There were so many things that could have not worked out, but I and 3 of my coworkers actually got a $40 gift card and someone to fill our tank for us! My coworker's girlfriend works at a doctors office not far from where we work. A patient came in and told her that he saw signs at the gas station down the road advertising free gas. The girlfriend calls my coworker. My coworker tells only a
handful of us that there might be free gas down the road and does anyone need their tank filled up? Of the 5 people he told, 2 turned it down. I would have too, had I not been planning on going at lunch to get gas. I figured, even if it is a scam, why not go with my coworkers for a little adventure during an early lunch hour? I could always stop on my way back and get gas somewhere. I had no other plans for lunch.The four of us took off in our cars to the gas station. It was somewhat blocked off by construction, so we pulled in between the construction barriers to get in the line Jen thought might be for the free gas. It turns out she made the right choice! A guy in a yellow shirt and orange vest numbered us 181-184. He also said that they were only filling up 200 cars. We had just made it in as there were cars quickly lining up behind us! The whole thing was being put on by Yellow Book as a promotion. There were no other strings attached other than them telling us about yellow book as they filled our tank and gave us the remainder of the $40 as a gift card toward our next gas purchase! I can only think of one other free thing in life like this: the gift of salvation!
Recently Seth was watching videos of the guys from Top Gear. Jeremy Clarkson demonstrated a French super car that was anything but super. Seth decided to name his new phone Superphone and then proceeded to regale me with Tales of Superphone--each tale increasing his bitterness exponentially.
Superphone learned a new trick today. It pops off the battery packMe: Did you call Pete?
everytime I pull it out of my pocket.
I haven't yet figured out in what type of situation Kenda considers sans appropriate as I've tried it out with her in varying settings. With each attempt, I'm met with scorn. However, I'm confident that someday she too will embrace the beauty of sans . . . perhaps once she tastes my pumpkin pie sans crust.Sans is not an everyday word for everyday use especially in everyday emails. It's a word that makes pumpkin pies without crusts sound elegant when really we all know you were too lazy to make the crusts. Don't going dragging "sans" through the mud to make your pumpkin pies without crust seem like a delicacy.
Of Pond Scum and Cappuccino
Froth is a practical word. Stroll through the countryside and observe it lurking among the lily pads. Wander along the shore after the waves have receded and note the border around dead jellyfish and sand castles. Fear the raccoon swaying down the road at noon. Sense the delicate warmth after sipping a cappuccino.
Froth is spittle bugs and pond scum. It is evidence of a floral infestation. Discover minute insects manufacturing moist clusters of spittle among the leaves. Many a gardener is disturbed by the presence of this unpleasant product of tiny creatures’ labor. Repulsive to many others is the foul conglomeration of green slime and foam pervading the surface of a natural pond. Sewage drains add to the annoyance as the foamy substance churns about the murky water. Silent and loitering, it is an offensive production of nature.
Froth is waves stirring up the shoreline. As the tide wanes, ocean waters abandon a plethora of froth in various colors and locations. A fetid shade of white marks the outline of a final charge up the coast. Brown, and a structure for floating detritus and seaweed, more froth clings to ramparts of miniature castles and gradually, mutely slips into the moat. Circumambulating stranded aquatic creatures, brackish froth clasps the drying fins and tentacles.
Froth signals rabies, seizures, and lunacy. Saliva globules accumulate around raving mandibles and glide slowly down the chin and sometimes splatter explosively after an outburst. Wild animals pant and growl while the froth waits expectantly. Symptoms of mounting inner turmoil and agitation of spirit, frustration and anger, foment.
Froth is milk relaxing on a cappuccino’s surface. Sometimes it rotates calmly with the blending of a spoon and swirls agreeably. Warm milk froth eloquently bespeaks immeasurable pleasures and satisfaction. Sprinkled with cocoa and a touch of cinnamon, this is the most appetizing of the variations on froth.
Though a bit off putting at times, froth is a choice descriptive word. Froth has proven itself a functional member of the lexicon. Appearing in many locals with a different effect on each, froth provides an indispensable service to the Anglo-Saxon language. What a sensible word froth is.
Your future is filled with marked moments of blessing, increase, promotion. God has already ordained before the foundation of the world, the right people, the right opportunity. Time and chance are coming together for you.Need I say more?
"This was not a balanced portrayal of the issue," said Carol King, former National Organization for Women board member and abortion-rights activist, who has seen the documentary. "One of the things that has upset me more than anything else is the [comparison] of the anti-choice extremists to pro-choice activists. I have never encouraged in any way to kill people with whom I disagree."No, you just encourage women to kill their babies before said babies have a chance to disagree with you. That's rich.
Yesterday was an exciting news day! First thing yesterday morning, I see on CNN online front page about the Chicago marathon and the disaster that was with the heat. [Former roommate] Mauri and her boyfriend were there because her boyfriend was trying to qualify for the Boston marathon. He wasn't planning on running in Boston, his goal was just to qualify in this race to be able to go. Mauri said that he was able to finish in time, but his training buddies had to walk the last 6 miles. When they got to the end, there wasn't enough water for everyone, but they were still all ok.
Then, yesterday afternoon on Bay News 9 online front page they announced that Sandy Lane Elementary school (along with 4 other schools) were under lockdown because a shooter was on the lam. So I texted Blair to tell her to lean out her window and wave so that she'd get put on the news! She seemed very unfazed by the whole event because as she explained, she works in the ghetto and it happens several times a year.
I found that whole thing exciting because I knew two people who were involved in the front page headline news!
We began working on the interior of our house months before we moved in (around the time we started trying to get Ethan to move out of the house he was "renting" from us). That was two years ago. Since then, Seth has redone the drywall, we've painted and put down new carpet.
If you look closely in the trim pictured here, you can tell which pieces I painted and which ones were so carefully done by Seth. Try as I might, I can't even keep the paint off the plastic and on the trim.
By the end of the evening, the trim was all painted, my pants had received several more coats of paint, and my hands and arms were white ... even whiter than they usually are, I should say. This picture shows my hand in comparison to Seth's. There was even paint on the bottom of my shoes."the interesting thing about jelly is that I used to make it all the time when I was younger – before my children left the nest – and I never used pectin. I just added sugar to the fruit and simmered it until it was a consistency I thought was jelled enough, and that was it. It worked for blackberries, peaches, strawberries, raspberries, and blueberries. So, the jelly Seth made without pectin may be blackberry syrup, but if you cook it longer it will be jelly. And, blackberry syrup is really good on pancakes, right?"
Nothing to say, you say? What a shame! The other adult in this household finds that hard to believe. I, on the other hand, shall reserve judgment on that issue as there are times when writer's block can affect more than the brain/hand connection, but also the brain/mouth connection. In some cases that can be a permanent condition. I think it was Ben Franklin (or was it Abe Lincoln) who once said, "It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool, than to speak and remove all doubt."
I have missed your great wit these last weeks since you blogged your last blog. I wondered if Seth had perhaps made good on his plan to ban blogging in your family. That would just be wrong. If you have something good to say, say on! Then again, Mom always said, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all." I have used this wise saying with my own children on several occasions already, and will likely continue to use it as they grow.
Speaking of saying things...we have been getting the most annoying of telemarketing phone calls. Tonight, as I answered the phone, a man announced to me that he was "my captain," calling to tell me of the free 2 night cruise I would be getting just for answering his short consumer survey. Bon voyage, Capitaine! There have been at least four calls from AOL since Monday. I cannot even recall all the other calls we have been getting. And, it seems they cannot take "no" for an answer. They have more than enough to say. Try as one may to be polite, they keep at it until you hang up on them because you remember what Mom always said.
Now I know we signed up for the National Do Not Call Registry, but the problem is, I can't remember how long ago it was. (That would be a whole 'nother issue there.) I went to the site again this evening to re-up and noted that we are supposed to be on the list for five years. I signed up again, so we should be covered until Sept. of 2012. The thing that gets me is, how long has this service been around? Surely it hasn't been five years since the last time I registered. Could it possibly have been in the year 2002? I made sure to print out my confirmation page so I actually have a record of this event.
Nor do I have anything to say about the Tapas and Sushi dinner I shared with Jeri, Katia, and Stephanie last Friday. It was our traditional "First Friday" get together. Only we don't get together every first Friday of the month, as we had originally planned. Nor do we get together the first Friday of every other month, as we had planned after realizing our original plan was completely unrealistic. It ends up being the first friday that we all happen to have open. 
Sometimes we head to a restaurant, sometimes we all contribute a dish around a certain theme. Sometimes we meet for coffee at Starbuck's. This time, I brought sushi and my chocolate fountain -- two ideas that, according to Stephanie, should never be uttered in the same sentence. It turns out, however, that chocolate fountains go with anything. (Not, of course, that we were dipping sushi into said fountain.) Stephanie's daughter London certainly enjoyed herself, after Stephanie taught her that you don't just drop the pretzel stick into the fountain, but that you actually have to hold onto it.
Normally, "I mowed the lawn," is more a statement of fact than a proclamation of accomplishment. However, in my case, it happens to be the latter.
Not appreciating my carving Ses into the lawn, my dad quickly taught me the intricacies of mowing a straight line. After that, I didn't have a bit of trouble. Although it was one of my assigned "chores," I quite enjoyed it. It was like I was driving a car. Only it was a mower. And I wasn't allowed on the road.
Riding lawn mowers I can deal with. Walk-behind, hand-controlled mowers I am not interested in dealing with ever again. I made it quite clear to Seth that should he ever want me to participate in trimming our yard again, he will provide me with an enclosed air-conditioned, smooth-ride mower. In the meantime, I'll stick to cleaning the bathroom.
Raccoons recently raided my melon patch, leaving a half-melon calling card to let me know that they enjoyed their feast. The following day, the entire melon was gone.
Harvest is my favorite time of year. Well, one of my favorite times. I also like spring, when the new green leaves peek out from between bare branches, the smell of fresh spring rain wafts through the air, and crocuses push their heads up through the light snow (except that this year, they decided to come up too early and didn't get to the flower stage before they were killed by the ice storm). And yes, yes, I know, these are tulips, not crocuses.
I also like fall, when the air takes on a crisp coolness, and the leaves unmask the brilliant colors they were hiding during summer.
Harvesting the fruits of my spring- and summertime labors is amazingly rewarding. All the water we carried from the creek, all the weeding, all the tilling and planting become worth it when I bite into a piece of sweet cantaloupe or nibble on a slice of cool cucumber. Or when I juice them and drink their fruity nectar.
What a fascinating continuation of the plants that God created "after their kind."
As I've mentioned before, my life is full of Dans. One of those Dans is my BIL, married to Seth's older sister Katy.
Dan also decided that the Wentz cattle needed help. So he tried his hand at feeding them, as well. But the beasts were having none of it. They preferred to stand placidly in the shade swatting the flies from each other with their tails.
Since then, rumors have begun circulating in Blue Bell, PA, of a shadowy figure who periodically emerges from the woods near the Wentz farmstead, tosses freshly picked grass over the fence into the sheep pen, and disappears again into the darkness, while yelling, "Save the sheep!"
Today was an overall good day. Freebie day. Where to start...I didn't go to church this morning due to migraine. Mark happened to mention this fact to our chiropractor friend who seemed very concerned. However, when Mark & boys returned I was feeling much better.We were going to cancel going to Mark's nephew's birthday party today in favor of going to a sunday school cookout this evening which would have overlapped. (Plus we took Casey out to a tractor show on Friday for his birthday anyway.)Mark's sister called from the birthday party to say her neighbor was giving away her newly purchased (2 wks ago for $250) big outdoor trampoline with safety net to the first person who came to take it away. Reason being...it got caught in last week's storm & bent some poles plus her child wasn't using it very much anyway (in 2 wks she has determined this??!!). We are now the proud owners.While Mark went to pick that up with Teel, I took the other two boys to the sunday school cookout since I had already prepared my side dish and nothing else to eat. Why should we miss our meal? Turns out there was another freebie waiting here thanks to afore mentioned comment by Mark to our chiropractic friend who was hosting said cookout. Within 5 minutes of arriving, I was escorted to the garage chiropractic table for a free adjustment. Excellent!And when we arrived home a few hours later, the trampoline had been put to rights, assembled in our back yard, and staked to the ground. Fit perfectly inside the circle of trees and rock landscaping over where the baby swing hangs which would be directly behind the garage section of our house if you are trying to place the location. The grass never grew there well anyway. And its a bit secluded--which is how I prefer to jump. Good view from the kitchen window though to watch the kids.I can't figure out how badly disfigured it could have been if Mark could get it to rights in such a short amount of time. Surely those people could still have sold it for plenty of money. But lucky me, for I've always wanted one and Mark was never going to buy one.
Returing from our recent road trip, Seth asked in that quiet way of his, "So, how did you enjoy the trip?"
We spent time with my 93-year-old grandpa, who tried to teach Seth how to drive his Messershmitt. And we laughed at old family movies, and took lots of family pictures.
