The Beauty of Blogging

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.

Thanks for the cookies, Bethany!

Merry Christmas

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

Advice on Water Crashes

Not to belabor a macabre point, a college friend, Matt, sent me this advice from the experts on what to do (or not to do) during a water crash. Guess I'll need to come up with another plan of action during my daily drive across the river. And it looks like my pleading and cajoling for the auto escape hammer was for naught. Drat.

1. Don't panic. Assess the situation and do whatever necessary to save yourself and anyone else in the car.

2. Never unbuckle your seatbelt prior to impact -- especially if it's a long way down before you reach the water. Your chance of surviving is much greater with the belt on. (Even if your car seems like it might land upside down in the water, leave the belt on. If your vehicle does end up upside down, push against the ceiling with one hand to relieve some tension on the belt, then you can release it easily.)

3. Throw away the auto escape hammer. That's the worst thing you can have in your car. They rarely break glass when you want them to (take it to a junkyard and test it -- usually takes many tries to break a window). Also, they usually end up either lying under a seat (out of reach when needed), or injuring a passenger during an accident. Our firemen recommend keeping a spring-loaded center punch in the ashtray. They're cheap (I paid 2.50 each for them at Harbour Freight), very effective (usually shatter the entire window the first or second time you use them), and are always within reach of the driver and front passenger if kept in the (closed) ashtray.

4. Never break a window until everyone in the car is ready to swim (or be assisted) to the surface.

5. If you haven't opened your door or broken a window you will have enough air to breath for awhile -- which means your cell phone should work long enough to call 911, give your location, the # of people in the car, and the observable injuries. Also, if you keep a zip-lock bag in your ashtray (next to the punch), you can put your phone in it, and it should still work after you reach the surface. If the phone didn't work underwater due to poor coverage, you may be able to call for help at the surface.

6. If your car is upright, and you're deep underwater, it's not advisable to release your seatbelt until after you break the window -- the force of the water could knock you unconscious if it slams you into something.

7. Once the car is full of water, the doors should open easily. If so, use the door to exit the vehicle (if possible). That will minimize the likelihood of cutting yourself on broken glass. (The car should fill in a matter of seconds after a window is broken, so waiting those few seconds shouldn't affect your chances of survival.)

8. If your car is resting level on the bottom, you should be able to get a "last breath" at the ceiling after you've broken the window and before you leave your car. If not, and the car is on an incline, look to see if it's possible to EASILY get out of a door or window on a lower part of the car. If so, break that window. It should leave more air in the car for you to get a breath before swimming out. If it doesn't appear to be easy to get out of a lower part of the car, break whatever window will make it easiest to exit the vehicle.

9. In most cars that have "power everything" the electric systems will still work for a few minutes underwater (without zapping you) and you may be able to roll down a window with the button... rather than going through the trouble of breaking the window. Whether you're in a "power" or "manual" car, if you can partially roll down a window before it's totally covered with water you should be able to let the car fill slowly, taking a last deep breath before opening the door and swimming to safety.

10. Don't panic. Most of the people that die in cars underwater quit "thinking" and allow themselves to die by not thinking and doing unsafe things.

What I Want, Part 2

In addition to a personal chef, I've also decided that I'd like one of these to put in our backyard--complete with the lovely stone pavers, twinkle lights, fireplace, lamps, outdoor furniture, potted plants, grill, and coffee table. One Sonoma Cedar Pergola with all the trimmings, please!

What I Want

What I want (among other things) is a personal chef. Someone who will put together nutritious, delicious meals for both me and Seth. Someone who will make sure I'm getting my daily servings from each level of the ever-changing food pyramid. Someone who will tell me what a portion size is and prevent me from eating more portions than I should.

I realize I'm already blessed with a personal chef in my loving husband. However, when he's working long days, the making of dinner falls to me. And I simply do not enjoy cooking. For some reason, I get overwhelmed thinking about which foods I need to eat to get omega-3 fatty acids, which provide the needed beta-carotene, which are good for fiber, which are good sources of protein, which have too many carbohydrates, which have trans fats, which are full of MSG . . . . So I usually just through a bunch of stuff into a casserole, hoping I've covered all my bases. I'm hesitant to try new ideas because, in addition to being a good cook, Seth is also, as Frost calls him, a PB (picky-butt). And I just never know when he'll turn his nose up at my offering. I'm stuck in the rut of making buffalo burgers because I know he'll eat those. Or bar-b-que chicken--made that plenty of times.

So what I need is a personal chef who can put together meals that we'll both eat and who won't be offended when Seth decides the spaghetti sauce has too many spices. There's a van at work which sports an advertisement for "meals by Heidi." I'm half-tempted to give Heidi a call to see if she makes Holler calls. I think that will be my first New Year's resolution: find a personal chef.

Christmas Party

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.

Each year, someone suggests doing a white elephant gift exchange, and each year they decide to do one. This year, I decided I didn't want to bring home more junk, so I didn't take a gift, hoping I could opt out of the exchange (that, and I also forgot about it). Sadly, extra gifts for the negligent were supplied by our thoughtful senior director, who gutted his office of all vendor prototypes he had acquired over the year.

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.

Every day (well, every day I' m not working from home), I drive across a bridge that spans the Ohio river. And every day I prepare myself for what may be my last drive should the car somehow wind up 100 feet below the bridge in said river. I've planned my escape carefully--once the car starts over the side of the bridge, I'll quickly unbuckle the seatbelt with my right hand, while my left hand is winding down the window (I'm a great multi-tasker). Thus, I'll be ready to swim to safety as soon as the car hits the water (providing, of course, that I survive the impact). I've also thought about how I'll need to grab my purse, and possibly my laptop, although I realize that once it hits the water, it's basically ruined, so why bother to save it?

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.

Anyway, an auto escape hammer came up for grabs during the white elephant. But since I was stuck with the plate-holding Santa, I didn't have a chance to snag it. Dan, the senior director and giver of the plate-holding Santa (one of his vendor gifts--who . . . who . . . WHO gives a Christian ministry a plate-holding Santa to see if they'll sell it? Who?!?), acquired the hammer. However, after much pleading and cajoling on my part, he so very graciously handed over the auto escape hammer to me. What a nice guy. It's a lovely specimen, with a window-breaker, a belt-slasher, and an air-bag-popper. Everything I need in one handy tool. Now I just need to remember to put it in my car . . . .

Superphone . . . the stuff that dreams are made of

From Kenda:

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.

Seth commented just last night, as he turned off Superphone for the evening (a la Monty Python): "It's not dead yet."

That Store

We've been boycotting Wal-Mart for a while now. And by "we" I mean mainly Seth. Seth is much better at the boycotting thing than I am. I boycott when it's not the only store that has what I need. And when you live in the Holler and the closest mall is 45 miles away, more often than not it tends to be the only store that has what I need.

For instance, I put aside the boycott the other day when I needed to pick up a present for the Angel Tree child that we were sponsoring. Of course, as I was meandering through the toy aisles looking for the Bratz doll she had requested and getting sick from the VOCs that were emanating from all the Chinese-made toys covered in lead-based paint, I remembered why we were boycotting the store (or at least one of the reasons). . . . I try to cover up my indiscretions once I arrive home by immediately throwing the Wal-Mart plastic bag my purchase came in (because I again forgot to take in my tote bags!) in with the rest of the plastic bags so that I don't have to face The Eyebrow, "Did you shop at that store . . . again?!?" So much for being a submissive wife.

So you can imagine how Seth felt last night when, after searching for hours on the internet for the present we (and some of his other siblings) wanted to get for his parents, he came up emptyhanded. There were simply no stores that had the 10-inch digital picture frame in stock . . . No stores except one, that is.

Shoulders drooping, he plopped down into the chair next to me: "That store is the only one that has it in stock."

Me: . . . and you don't want to go there to get it?

Seth: [stony silence]

Me: Do you want me to go to that store and pick it up?

Seth [stony silence]

Me: If I don't tell you I'm going, will that make it better?

Seth: [stony silence]

So I went to that store and bought the present. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Unless of course, said present begins emmitting VOCs into our house poisoning us both, at which time I can only imagine Seth will have the presence of mind to say, "I told you so."

Bad Days

I was having a bad day the other day (don't ask--it's a long story), and just couldn't seem to get out of the funk I was in. Everything (maybe not everything) I was saying was being misconstrued; my reputation was being tarnished because of the misconstruations (not really), and I just couldn't stop dwelling on the situation (I'm a dweller--so sue me). It kept me up during the night.

I know, I know--I'm making it sound like it was the end of the world.

And it was.

For me.

That is, until I read a news report about Michael Vick's letter to the judge pleading for leniency in his sentencing. And then I read the story about astronaut Lisa Nowak's love triangle in which emails exchanged between the three were revealed. And, suddenly, my bad day paled in comparison to the bad days these two were having. I have nothing on those whose entire lives were being broadcast before the entire world.

My minor misunderstanding with someone (just for the record, Seth wasn't the cause of this bad day--in fact, he was quite comforting and concerned about it) was nothing compared to getting caught bankrolling a dog-fighting ring, being kicked out of the NFL, facing public disgrace in the national media, and being sent to jail for almost two years. Or being caught chasing down an ex-lover's new lover. How's that for reputation tarnishing.

Yeah, sometimes I just need to gain a little perspective to get out of the funk. When I think about their bad days, mine wasn't so bad after all.

Superphone's Impending Demise

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.

The Golden Controversy

I've waded into the fray over the Golden Compass and posted a review here. Enjoy . . . or not . . .

Seth and the Four Seasons

Seth has started a male band called the Four Seasons.

HA! I'm cracking myself up just thinking about that, considering that he barely even moves his lips when we're singing hymns in church and has no musical inclination whatsoever (he may have had a brief stint with the recorder in fourth grade). No, he hasn't formed a male band.

Instead, Seth has joined the Four Seasons Club. This is a very prestigious club. Membership requirements are such that one must have donated a pint of one's blood four times over the past year. After he accomplished that this past fall, Hoxworth sent him this lovely certificate and a tote bag (which I've confiscated to use for grocercies, should I ever actually remember to bring said totes into the grocery store with me). Somehow I seemed to have missed one of those blood-letting sessions so was not invited to be a member of the club. No matter. I'm ahead of him in other ways -- I got my 2-gallon pin long before he received his.

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.

Is there really such a thing as free gas?

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!