The Office

In case you haven't heard, the Office won a well deserved Emmy last night for Outstanding Comedy Series. And in case you didn't know, the guy standing next to Steve Carell is B.J. Novak (who plays Ryan the intern) and he is one of the writers for the show...

















Unfortunately Steve Carell lost the award for best actor in a comedy series, but he is still hilarious!! We still love you, Steve!







My all time fave episode is where he steps on the George Foreman grill and burns his foot. Too funny!!





















And the sweetest love story EVER continues on September 21st! Click here to watch the preview. Oh, it melts my heart!! When Jim & Pam kissed last season, I jumped off the couch like a football fan watching a touchdown in the last 5 seconds of the game!! (Okay, so I need to get out more.)

The Big Move

Approximately 2 1/2 years ago, my dear friend Stacye (aka 'the Sister') moved in with me and my other roommate. Stacye and I can both be very obstinate (I'm sure my parents will offer a hearty 'Amen' to that one...). In the course of the last move, there were a few moments when the Sister and I wondered if either of us would make it out alive.

If you've ever moved, you know it is a stressful, emotional and potentially volatile time. At one point during the last move, there was a moment when all the stress and tension came boiling to the surface and the Sister and I stood inches apart like referee and coach, engaged in a heated discussion about what to place on the truck next. My mother had to step in and break us apart. We stomped off to the U-Haul, got in together, huffed and screeched off for our destination.

While unloading boxes at the second destination, I accidentally hit the Sister in the butt with a box while she was bent over doing who knows what. That force propelled her head first into the room of boxes. She came up fighting like a wildcat. By this time, I was so tired that everything was hilarious...so I started laughing. That only made matters worse.

We did have to go through an adjustment phase, but it all worked out. We've lived together for about 2 1/2 years, and now she is moving out. The big move is Saturday, and we can already feel the tension beginning to mount. We were laughing about it tonight as we sat amongst the tornado that is our home. Boxes and 'stuff' is piled everywhere. I think the anticipation of the mountain that lies ahead has us on edge. Who knows, there could be a body bag in someone's future.

Please pray for us this weekend. More importantly - pray for the poor unsuspecting souls that are coming to help us move. Then again, maybe a live WWF match right on the front lawn will provide high entertainment for everyone.

Photos

As most of you know, I am playing around with photography. Mostly just for fun. But I recently entered some photos in a little contest at the local photography club here in town, and one of them actually won "Honorable Mention." I feel pretty puffed up for this to be my first contest and all! I am getting ready to set up a studio at home in a couple of weeks, so if you're ever at the house, maybe you can see my little ribbon!

I just joined the photography club a couple of weeks ago, and I just set up my gallery on-line under the club's web-site. Most of the pictures are also on my other blog, but there are a few new ones here. Feel free to check it out if you like. I'm pretty excited about my new club and my new gallery! And I would LOVE your feedback, even if you think my work sucks! Practice makes perfect, and some good critiques can help push me in the right direction - so I welcome your comments.

My latest X File

Alas, I am home from yet another trip to the big city. I went to Atlanta last week for a class (total snorzville). I did, however, get to stay in the Westin. My yes, I felt quite hoity toity to be able to slumber under the watchful eye of the King and Queen... actually, it was more like "hillbilly circus come to town". Or maybe that movie Big Business with Lily Tomlin and Bette Midler. Yeah, that was us.

We pulled into the hotel in our sweet ride (Olds 88 with cracked windshield and paint chipped off the bumper - no offense, Jamie! My windshield is cracked too...). Being the high falutin' kind, we barreled right up to the front door. We jumped out in total Beverly Hillbilly style and started unloadin' our lives right onto the curb. The valet and bellmen stood aghast as we laid out pillows, bags of crackers and hair curlers - lookin' like we were prepared to withstand any sort of nuclear, seismic or weather-related disaster. The bellman brought over a luggage cart, and I started to load that thing like a girl straight off the farm. When we were done, Jamie went to "self-park" the car. No valet for us. We're from Alabama. We don't trust no big city slickers with our goods, no sir. Plus they wanted $12 a night to valet. I mean, were they planning to sleep in the car - give me a break.

As Jamie is off parking the car somewhere, I proceed into the hotel. As I turn to go, I grab the luggage cart and start heaving and huffing trying to get the thing rollin'. With a look of total astonishment and disbelief, James (the bellman), tells me that he will bring it up to the room for us. I stand there a moment, somewhat startled. Again, you want me to leave a box full of my panties and haircurlers out here on the curb and trust that you will bring them to me? Reluctantly, I turned and went inside. It's only then that I realize there are other people gathered outside the hotel.

While we were performing our hillbilly circus act, there were several people draped in black, wearing pointy-toed Prada's, and holding their Paris Hilton knock-off dogs under one arm. I'm sure they all stormed the desk immediately after our departure to demand a refund, not having been told there was a hick convention in town. Dahling.

As for the class, it was a total bore. I sat each day in a sea of golf shirts and sleepy eyes. We listened as hard as we could to the speaker lecture about various insurance topics. What can I say - unless you actually demonstrate a loss by setting something on fire, there ain't a whole lot you can do to make insurance interesting for eight hours a day. Luckily, I only did the sleepy head jerk thing a couple of times. And this year, no one fell out of their chair - so I'd call it a success!

Each night after class, we went out on the town. One night we met a friend of mine and went to some Fish Bowl or Goldfish restaurant. Here we are in this nice, upscale restaurant, complete with white linen napkins and they have some guy singing "Baby Got Back" lounge lizard style accompanied by the house piano. It seemed fitting that this should be the evening I try sushi for the first time. They tried to get me to use the chopsticks, but I told them that unless they expected me to spear the sushi, I had to go with the old stand-by fork. Anyway, I dipped it in the soy sauce and shoved the whole thing in as instructed. Something about the chemical make-up of the sushi mixed with my saliva caused the fish to grow and grow. The more I chewed, the more it grew. The more it grew, the more sensitive my gag reflex became. Not to worry - my Momma taught me well. If I can politely choke down tapioca at a church member's house, I can get down some sushi in a public place if I have to. But man, was it hard. Mind over matter, I was finally able to swallow it. No thanks, Fear Factor - been there, done that.

We also found a chocolate factory while we were there. Hallelujah! The minute you opened the door, it smelled like heaven. They made all kinds of things there, chocolate in almost any shape you can imagine. They even made champagne glasses, high-heeled shoes and baby carriages, not to mention little boxes with lids and chocolate dipped oreos. Can I get an Amen? I am contacting them to see about having a chocolate casket made for me when I pass.

All in all, it was a fairly uneventful trip. Truth be told, it was probably much more colorful in my own mind than in reality. Then again, life typically seems to follow that pattern for me.

A four letter word called Pride

The past few days God has been revealing to me the tremendous amount of pride I have living in me. For years, even since childhood, I have always been somewhat of a leader. My mind spins in a million directions at once. I am constantly churning out one idea after another. Speeches and phrases constantly float around inside my head and often roll off my tongue. From my youth, I have been one to throw out ideas, get the gang fired up, and get the ball rolling. Either my ideas are so stellar, my delivery is so inspiring or my personality is so charismatic that people are immediately entranced or they are all scared to death to offer any opposing ideas. Either way, I get my way - so who cares, right?

On the surface, all of this creativity and leadership business may seem like a gifting of some sort. These talents may reside within, but it is the condition of the heart - the home of the almighty motive - that is the problem. Recently, I ran into this brick wall at work. I was working on a project that was rather illogical, ridiculous and archaic - in my opinion. I threw in my two cents to no avail. I could hold my breath until my face turned blue, but it won't matter. This time I don't get my way. I was amazed at how much that bothered me.

This incident launched an indepth examination of the heart for me. While that exam is still in progress, I have already learned some very valuable things about myself. One is my difficulty with pride and submission. I like to be in control and I want to come out shiny and smellin' good on the other side. And if people want to admire me and rave about how wonderful I am, so be it. The problem is I am supposed to be living my life for God's glory - not mine. Oh yeah, that.

The deeper I delve into this subject, the more God reveals to me. He has shown me how rebellious, self-centered, and stubborn I am. Delayed gratification is a four letter word to me (my checkbook and weight are only a few of the physical manifestations of that one). I admit it. I like to be admired. I love complements. I want my very own pedestal. Man, is that hard to swallow. I look at my dreams and desires for the future, and I question every single one. Do I hope to someday become a writer or have a speaking ministry for God's glory or for mine? How do I expect to be submissive to my husband when I cannot submit to God? What makes me think I can be faithful to a husband when I cannot be faithful to God with my thoughts? The questions go on and on.

As I read Proverbs 31 and sit in awe of this woman, I am intrigued by the end of the chapter. After 17 verses describing what a Superwoman this chick is, verse 28 says her children and husband bless her and praise her. Verse 31 says, "Let her deeds publicly declare her praise." And I wonder how she reconciles her abilities and accomplishments with her heart - is pride not an issue for her? Then I read the end of verse 30, "...a woman who fears the Lord will be greatly praised." Ahh.

I wonder what I have feared more - God or the opinions and acceptance of others? I so long to use the talents and gifts God has given me to enrich the lives of others and to do it all for God's glory. Yet I so often find my own glory getting in the way. I pray that God will give me a spirit of humility and a holy reverent fear of Him. I have been afraid to pray for God to break my pride because I don't particularly relish the idea of what that may involve, but I know it is absolutely necessary. So I ask you to join me in that prayer. Pray it for me. If you struggle with this as well, speak up and we'll pray for you too!

BTW if you see me standing naked on the interstate or witness me somehow being called out in the middle of Sunday morning worship or something worse, please bear with me as you will know God is performing an embalming of sorts on my prideful spirit!