I appreciate Neal.
I don't always appreciate it when he sticks his finger into my ear, reprimands me in my dreams, gives me weird directions, or throws his dead skin cells in my face. But all in all, I appreciate Neal for everything he does.
The other day I was complaining about doing my devotion and reading the wrong passage. I'd read seven chapters in 1 Kings instead of four chapters in 2 Kings. Oops. Since he's our campus minister, I was really expecting him to call me out on the fact that I was complaining about reading the Word of God. Sometimes Nealio doesn't respond the way I expect (see the dead skin cells blog).
"You know how to get through those long Old Testament passages, right? Walk around, reading aloud, and act them out."
Neal's one of those people that if he gives me advice or a direct command, I should probably listen. Neal says "Jump;" I say, "How high?" Thus, I'm going to give it a try. So, if I'm walking around talking to myself: don't panic; I'm just doing my devotion.
"But don't do this with Song of Solomon," he added. Thanks.
Are you willing to look silly and try it with me?
<>< Katie
Showing posts with label ear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ear. Show all posts
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
The Spin Cycle
I have two plastic bracelets on my right wrist as reminders of my busy, fantastic weekend. One glows in the dark. It was my admission ticket to a school dance and it now represents how badly Chris and I* stunk up the dance floor on Saturday. We concluded school dances were invented just to make people uncomfortable. I thought maybe it was just me but, no, it's not, it's the whole thing. If you don’t have a date: what do you do? If you do have a date: where to you put your hands, where do you look? Either way: why are those people making babies in public?
"Something wet just hit me in the face."
"It was either sweat or spit, take your pick. Ohh! Or urine. Can you see what color it was? Maybe it was blood."
Yuck!
My other plastic bracelet is hot pink, a much better dancing experience. Matthew, Hillary, Chris, and I went to a music festival on Sunday and spent a couple hours in the afternoon contra dancing, square dancing, and waltzing. Let me just put out there that I have never been so sticky and sweaty in my life, and I didn't know it could get this hot, much less in May.
I was very nervous about this since I'd never been contra dancing before. A lot of my friends talk about wearing flowing skirts and taking Dramamine before they go. Well, I was in jeans and there was no Dramamine in my personal pharmacy. I also had no idea what I was doing but I knew my hand was going to have to go onto the shoulders of sweaty strangers. Yuck!
Lucky for me, the first couple we were partnered with knew what they were doing. In contra dancing, there are two people important to you: your partner (Chris) and your neighbor (changes). My first neighbor showed me how to swing correctly. His last instruction was, "and look me in the eye." Excuse me, sir, but you are forty years my elder and six inches from my face. Looking you in the eye is not very high on my priority list today, sorry. I did it and it was awkward.
When I started writing this blog, I was going to muse aloud about the awkwardness of eye contact, when it's socially acceptable, when it's done poorly, etc. I was also going to ponder why it's acceptable to make eye contact while contra dancing but not ok while slow dancing.
Well, I figured out that one. On the plywood make-shift dance floor I quickly learned why I must face the awkwardness and look my neighbor in the eye: if you don't, you are going to get dizzy, but when your eyes are locked with the other person the world around you is spinning but you are focused on one place. I began to loathe the people who refused to make eye contact with me. Staring at his ear is not quite as effective.
The hardest part is coming out of the swing because, well, the room's still spinning and you are not. In one the dances we did you swing your neighbor then swing your partner. Finding my partner and swinging again without falling over was quite a challenge sometimes. That cannot be healthy, and, boy, am I out of shape.
On the last swing of the day, an elderly gentleman swung me, we locked eyes, and I felt like I was flying. Somehow, we even found the breath to exchange hellos. Like all good things that, too, came to an end and it was time to find Chris. Lucky for me, his arm was around my waist and I was flying again before I felt drunk. When the song was over, I stood there with my arms out trying to regain balance but I'd do it again. Every sweaty man I had to touch was worth those two swings.
When we locked eyes and began to move, nothing else mattered. The barn spun behind us but our eyes remained stable (no pun intended). The music continued but we were stopped in a single moment of time.
That's how God wants to dance with you: lock eyes and push out the spinning world. Maybe that's not possible in a literal fashion but can't you focus on Him amidst the brouhaha of everyday life? Let Him lead and never take your eyes off of Him.
Oh, and please don't contra dance on a cruise ship. You really might fall.
<>< Katie
*Nope, still not facebook official so shhh or I’m not blogging about him again.
"Something wet just hit me in the face."
"It was either sweat or spit, take your pick. Ohh! Or urine. Can you see what color it was? Maybe it was blood."
Yuck!
My other plastic bracelet is hot pink, a much better dancing experience. Matthew, Hillary, Chris, and I went to a music festival on Sunday and spent a couple hours in the afternoon contra dancing, square dancing, and waltzing. Let me just put out there that I have never been so sticky and sweaty in my life, and I didn't know it could get this hot, much less in May.
I was very nervous about this since I'd never been contra dancing before. A lot of my friends talk about wearing flowing skirts and taking Dramamine before they go. Well, I was in jeans and there was no Dramamine in my personal pharmacy. I also had no idea what I was doing but I knew my hand was going to have to go onto the shoulders of sweaty strangers. Yuck!
Lucky for me, the first couple we were partnered with knew what they were doing. In contra dancing, there are two people important to you: your partner (Chris) and your neighbor (changes). My first neighbor showed me how to swing correctly. His last instruction was, "and look me in the eye." Excuse me, sir, but you are forty years my elder and six inches from my face. Looking you in the eye is not very high on my priority list today, sorry. I did it and it was awkward.
When I started writing this blog, I was going to muse aloud about the awkwardness of eye contact, when it's socially acceptable, when it's done poorly, etc. I was also going to ponder why it's acceptable to make eye contact while contra dancing but not ok while slow dancing.
Well, I figured out that one. On the plywood make-shift dance floor I quickly learned why I must face the awkwardness and look my neighbor in the eye: if you don't, you are going to get dizzy, but when your eyes are locked with the other person the world around you is spinning but you are focused on one place. I began to loathe the people who refused to make eye contact with me. Staring at his ear is not quite as effective.
The hardest part is coming out of the swing because, well, the room's still spinning and you are not. In one the dances we did you swing your neighbor then swing your partner. Finding my partner and swinging again without falling over was quite a challenge sometimes. That cannot be healthy, and, boy, am I out of shape.
On the last swing of the day, an elderly gentleman swung me, we locked eyes, and I felt like I was flying. Somehow, we even found the breath to exchange hellos. Like all good things that, too, came to an end and it was time to find Chris. Lucky for me, his arm was around my waist and I was flying again before I felt drunk. When the song was over, I stood there with my arms out trying to regain balance but I'd do it again. Every sweaty man I had to touch was worth those two swings.
When we locked eyes and began to move, nothing else mattered. The barn spun behind us but our eyes remained stable (no pun intended). The music continued but we were stopped in a single moment of time.
That's how God wants to dance with you: lock eyes and push out the spinning world. Maybe that's not possible in a literal fashion but can't you focus on Him amidst the brouhaha of everyday life? Let Him lead and never take your eyes off of Him.
Oh, and please don't contra dance on a cruise ship. You really might fall.
<>< Katie
*Nope, still not facebook official so shhh or I’m not blogging about him again.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Wet Willy
Growing up, when we went to a party my sisters and all of the other kids were always lost in a made up world somewhere else. I, on the other hand, loved to sit at the table and listen to my parents and their friends tell stories and relive the Before Kids Days. My favorites were the college stories, the post-college stories, and the ones from my dad's annual camping trips (the one that had to come to an end when he left my mom home alone with a one-month old very colicky baby who now enjoys telling these stories herself). Of course, most of them involved alcohol... and extreme amounts of it. Going to a dry school I thought/ was kind of sad I'd be missing these stories from my life. Well, I'm not. Mine just involve less (read "no") alcohol.
One thing I've never really understood is why my mom had the audacity to give Mark--a man she's not married to--a wet willy just for sassing her. When I witnessed this first hand, boys still had coodies, and there was no way I would be getting anywhere near them much less close enough to stick my tongue in their ears. Well, I now have friends who are male, and I discovered this weekend that it's only a matter of time before Nikki, Elizabeth, and Andy get hard core wet willies (no finger).
I was giving my goodnight hugs on Saturday night when Elizabeth and Andy were on the Platonic Loveseat being, well, not very platonic. Instead of asking for goodnight hugs, I plunked myself down on the couch between them. Half of me was on top of Andy and the other half on top of Elizabeth. In about, oh, 1.5 seconds flat they flipped me on my back in the fetal position. Amy and Jennifer watched this whole deal and said all they could see of me were my knees. Not good!
"Watch my glasses!"
"Take them off!"
"No! Then I'm consenting to this rough housing. I don't consent! I don't consent!"
"Ooooh! Is she ticklish?!"
I am, but they didn't know that, and I sure as heck wasn't telling them.
Elizabeth and Andy decided the only thing to do to me in this situation was to lick me. Are we not past this game yet!? Elizabeth had the bottom half of my body in her lap, so she chose to lick the back of my right hand, not a big deal, I can wash that once I get free. Andy had my upper half and opted for the top of my head. I wasn't planning on showering before bed, thanks.
"I really want to lick her forehead," Elizabeth confessed. It's kind of a long-term goal, and they had me in the proper position. It was one of those "now or never" situations, and my goal was to make it a "never."
"Wouldn't that be awful?! She could just watch your tongue coming the whole time!"
Yes, that would be awful. I slapped my forearm to my forehead and held it tightly. All of the sudden there was a firm grasp on my wrist as Andy gently but forcefully pulled my hand away from my face. He's a "medical person;" he's done that before. Not fair! Elizabeth moved in for the kill but I beat her to the punch as my knees rapidly collided with my face. Word of advice: don't do that on a regular basis. A few more minutes of struggle and Elizabeth finally settled... her wet finger into my ear. Much further into my ear than a finger should go, I might add. I pushed her away with my feet and shoved Andy off of the couch. No winding up before bed... de-rile, de-rile.
I don't know if our three-on-a-couch experience will stand the test of time and be placed among the great "college stories" in my repertoire, but I do know that at the next opportunity they both will be receiving true business wet willies, tongue meet ear style.
<>< Katie
One thing I've never really understood is why my mom had the audacity to give Mark--a man she's not married to--a wet willy just for sassing her. When I witnessed this first hand, boys still had coodies, and there was no way I would be getting anywhere near them much less close enough to stick my tongue in their ears. Well, I now have friends who are male, and I discovered this weekend that it's only a matter of time before Nikki, Elizabeth, and Andy get hard core wet willies (no finger).
I was giving my goodnight hugs on Saturday night when Elizabeth and Andy were on the Platonic Loveseat being, well, not very platonic. Instead of asking for goodnight hugs, I plunked myself down on the couch between them. Half of me was on top of Andy and the other half on top of Elizabeth. In about, oh, 1.5 seconds flat they flipped me on my back in the fetal position. Amy and Jennifer watched this whole deal and said all they could see of me were my knees. Not good!
"Watch my glasses!"
"Take them off!"
"No! Then I'm consenting to this rough housing. I don't consent! I don't consent!"
"Ooooh! Is she ticklish?!"
I am, but they didn't know that, and I sure as heck wasn't telling them.
Elizabeth and Andy decided the only thing to do to me in this situation was to lick me. Are we not past this game yet!? Elizabeth had the bottom half of my body in her lap, so she chose to lick the back of my right hand, not a big deal, I can wash that once I get free. Andy had my upper half and opted for the top of my head. I wasn't planning on showering before bed, thanks.
"I really want to lick her forehead," Elizabeth confessed. It's kind of a long-term goal, and they had me in the proper position. It was one of those "now or never" situations, and my goal was to make it a "never."
"Wouldn't that be awful?! She could just watch your tongue coming the whole time!"
Yes, that would be awful. I slapped my forearm to my forehead and held it tightly. All of the sudden there was a firm grasp on my wrist as Andy gently but forcefully pulled my hand away from my face. He's a "medical person;" he's done that before. Not fair! Elizabeth moved in for the kill but I beat her to the punch as my knees rapidly collided with my face. Word of advice: don't do that on a regular basis. A few more minutes of struggle and Elizabeth finally settled... her wet finger into my ear. Much further into my ear than a finger should go, I might add. I pushed her away with my feet and shoved Andy off of the couch. No winding up before bed... de-rile, de-rile.
I don't know if our three-on-a-couch experience will stand the test of time and be placed among the great "college stories" in my repertoire, but I do know that at the next opportunity they both will be receiving true business wet willies, tongue meet ear style.
<>< Katie
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