It was all Jordan's idea

Well, this is in regards to the 'George Foreman Grill Cleaner!' article. I have been corrected on a detail of how this all went down. Apparently Rob did not come up with this idea on his own...or at all. It was all Jordan's doing, so kudos to Jordan who gave Rob the idea that stunned an actor at his own craft. Well played Jordan, well played.

You in the back, please raise your clawr...

Saturday, enter the Cloverdale Rodeo. Another highly entertaining day spent with friends. We caught the rodeo events-bronc riding, calf roping, steer wrestling, barrell racing, bull riding and the like-and then headed back to our friend's house to celebrate a couple of birthdays. 5 of us spent a least a good couple hours in the hot tub, talking about politics and the state of the world, the Bible, and ending by trading funny and crazy stories about our childhoods and early teen years. We finally dragged ourselves out around 2:40a.m.

Apparently Derek and James went to bed and slept like rocks. For Christina, Lindsay and I it was a bit of different story. 3 of us in a double bed, dileriously making shadow puppets on the wall. And when I say shadow puppets I only wish we could have made impressive animals like giraffes or, at the very least, a dog. But when I say shadow puppets I mean we merely raised our hands into the glow of the street light outside the bedroom window and proceeded to sing made-up-on-the-spot, 3 part a capella songs with our hands. Lindsay introduced us to the "clawr". Think about a pirate saying "claw" and you'll have a better understanding of what a clawr is. And we raised our clawrs high and proud in our over-tired delerium, knowing that morning would be dawning soon and these late night shinanigans might make it painful when it did. Ladies, let me just say "fawr-lawr-lawr-lawr-lawr, lawr-lawr-lawr-CLAWR!"

When all was said and done we managed to get a couple hours of sleep, awaking in time to make it to the legion for their rodeo breakfast before we headed off to cowboy church. I downed coffee that day like I hadn't in a while. I am thankful to Derek and Brooke for opening their home to us and being the masterminds behind it all (thanks guys!). And I am so grateful for the wealth of rich blessing that my family and friends are in my life.

George Foreman Grill Cleaner!

So this past weekend was jam-packed full of goodness. Friday night went to see the Vancouver Theater Sports League on Granville Island. Holy hilarity batman! There were 5 of us and we came late so we got slightly split up. Jordan, Melissa, and Stephanie were sitting together and then just down the way I was sitting with this Rob character who, although I don't see often, just about makes me pee my pants when I do because he's just one of those funny people. During intermission Rob was awarded 2 points by Jordan because 2 of his suggestions were used-"yo-yo" and "anger" made quite the splash. But then there was the fall of Rob. That which he heard of the entire ride home from Vancouver.

Rob informed me that his goal during the second act was to get them to use either "Easy-Bake Oven" or "George Foreman Grill". The time came and the actors onstage asked the audience for a suggestion of a blue-collar job, to which Rob yells something out. It catches the ear of the actor. He stops and asks "what was that?". The theatre falls silent and Rob yells out "George Foreman Grill Cleaner!!!". The actor looks stuned and after a moment of silence says "Ok, let's see what the other side of the room has!". Jordan later informed Rob that he had plumetted to minus 2 points. Man, that was funny stuff.

Employed

Ahh, yes, I have a job now! So very excited. I started training today-2 1/2 hours of theory. My head is spinning a wee bit, but spinning in such a good way. Spinning in a way that reminds me of university and higher learning and that unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Now, whether you're thirsting for the finer points behavioral therapy or how they get the pimento into the center of a green olive so nicely folded up doesn't matter, just keep drinking up! That olive business is the stuff that useless knowledge is made of and one day a piece of so-called "useless knowledge" may very well save the universe.

But today I got fed with the way that behavioral therapy can help autistic kids and how. Seriously amazing stuff going on. This is a group that medical dictionaries have said there is no therapy for, nothing to help them. I'm so excited to be doing this. Also a little nervous but I'm sure it will pass. Training: so far, so good.

A highlight of my day came during my theory training. The man who is training me, Nate, and his wife (my Bible study leader) Sara, live on a dairy farm. Today while we were sitting on their front lawn one of the men who lives/works the farm came up and asked us if we'd like to see a couple of newborn calfs. One calf was not even 10 minutes old, still being licked off by her mama. The other was born a little earlier in the day and we got to see her take her first steps. New life, in all it's forms, is such a pleasant mystery. Life in general keeps me amazed and thirsting for more.

So I haven't said it outright but, if you've been paying attention, you might have caught on that I'm training to do behavioral therapy with autistic kids. And I'm excited...but I think I've mentioned that:) Excited to have a job and even more excited to have a job that I have a growing passion for. Forget sticking my toe in to test the waters, I'm jumping right in!

Got vote?

"Hello, you've reached Election Official Lindsey. If you'd like to bring me coffee or tea, I am located on the top floor of the Pitt Meadows Rec Hall. And if you leave me a message I'll get back to you sometime after 9 tonight. Happy voting all!"

Yesterday was the provincial general election and referendum for electoral reform and if you phoned me you would have heard a message much like that because I was working it. And someone actually did bring me coffee!!! More specifically, a chai latte, which was just so amazing! So an incredibly big THANK YOU goes out to my friend Lindsay who brought it to me (just so happens that I was stationed at her voting poll:). I tell you, when you get there at 7:30am, can't leave the building, can't have the cell phone on, have to get someone to watch your polling station with your partner when you have to go to the bathroom becaused you've consumed over 2 litres of water throughout the day, and are there until at least 9pm, the smiling face of a friend armed with a chai latte-even extra hot, the way you like it-is definately an oasis of so much goodness in a sea of desolate folded ballots, pencils on strings, and a 17 year old partner named Jon who cannot manage to speak loud enough to the older people.

I remember the first time I got to vote. I've never been super passionate about politics, just not my bag. And for those of you that were there during that recent Personal Preference game in which I was at the center of that nasty "George Bush" incident, I have to say, that might have done in my passion for politics. Informed, ok. Passionate, no. But I am passionate about voting. Back to my premier voting experience. I thought there'd be more glamor involved. I'm not talking a red carpet and a booming voice anouncing that I was the next voter and to "come on down". Blame the movies or TV in which I saw people in those American-esque voting stations that were full of red, white, and blue ribbons, and those polling booths with blue velvet curtains that came down about knee level. When I entered the polling station of my riding for the first time it was a bit of a shocker, let me tell you. I never expected that I'd be casting my vote with a pencil on a string, behind the super secret cardboard "booth" emblazoned with "Elections BC". But for whatever it's worth I continue to vote. Not because I necessarily believe my one vote will make a difference...I live in Canada, not Florida. But because I can (I'm young and female...thank God I live in Canada!) and because God has placed these rulers over us and we need to take some responsibility in doing our part. Got vote?

Here's to you Hoppy

Well, as requested I have a frog story. Not a good one. Not a happy one. But a frog story. First I guess I should let you all know that Nelson and Xena are doing well. Really enjoying their larger tank and playing around the bridge in there.

Now for the actual story. Last week I was driving down a country road late at night with a friend. We were singing along with the CD, laughing, having a great evening. There aren't very many streetlights down this road, not many at all, which makes your view of the road ahead subject to your headlights. So there we are, merrily driving when out of no where a frog starts hopping across the street. Except he had just entered my headlights which meant we were close...too close. I screamed-the thought of roadkill does this to me-and swerved. My friend assurred me that our frog friend, Hoppy, had hopped right across the road to safety. But it was a different story on the ride back up the road after dropping my friend off. On the way back up the road I had to make a phone call and inform my friend that dear Hoppy, in fact, had not made it. Now I loved biology in highschool and I've disected things like an earthworm, a grasshoper, a starfish, squid, 2 fetal pigs, and even a frog. But disecting something and running over it are two different things. I'd like to do less of the latter in the future.

Yesterday night me and a couple of friends grabbed a coffee. Usually we sit at the coffee shop and catch up but instead we opted for a change in scenery and hit a local park. We sauntered into the park, on the prowl for some swings, and as soon as 3 opened up it happened: our inner 6 year olds were promptly released. 3 girls, 2 coffees, and 1 slushy went running for the freshly vacated seats. We were content to just swing for a while, enjoying our beverages. But then Lindsay instigated a rousing game of "who can throw their shoe the farthest off the swing". She won. Melisa came in a dismal last place when her flip flop caught on her foot and her cell phone flew into the bark mulch.

It was a freeing experience to embrace my inner 6 year old, start up a sychronized swinging team, and laugh and shout so loud that 12 year old hoodlums passing by mocked us. But it didn't matter because we were in that 6 year old space. That place where it didn't matter who was around or what they were saying or doing because you were with your friends, you were having fun, and that's what mattered. It didn't really matter who's shoe flew the farthest and we didn't rely on physics to explain it to us because we made our shoes fly together and that's what mattered. And it didn't really matter whether our sychronized swinging team was sychronized or not because it just mattered that we were all making an attempt.

It's made me wonder what the world might look like if we all embraced our inner 6 year old a little more. Maybe the UN needs a giant swingset in their office instead of a big table surrounded with chairs. It's also refreshed to me the fact that Jesus commands us to have faith like a child. It's not an option. When was the last time you raced your Heavenly Father to the swingset and kicked off your shoes?