An unique career

I just found out there is such a thing as a bull whip artist. I discovered this while watching TV. People that say that TV is bad and evil be darned. (And go wallow in their bull-whip-artist ignorance.)

Middle name meme

My friend, Toni Paige, just tagged me with a fun middle name meme. I THINK I know what that means...I'm hopelessly slow when it comes to lingo and etiquette...oh wait. I mean BLOG lingo, etc. (I"m a whiz at those things in real life.)

Anyway, here are the rules: (If I tag you, you have to post the rules too!)
-You must list one fact that is somehow relevant to your life for each letter of your middle name. (I added the idea that you can come up with more than one word for each letter.)
-If you don't have a middle name, use the middle name you would have liked to have had.
-At the end of your post, you need to choose one person for each letter of your middle name to tag...... Got it? Good!

Anyway, when I was born, my parents took one look at me and instantly knew what to name me. As it was a little unconventional, they ended up naming me after my grandma instead. But I've always had an attachment to their first choice... Andrea Amazing Shuman. Still, in the interest of the spirit of this meme, I'll stick to the middle name on my birth certificate--RUTH.

R - I'm a real, romantic, rosy-cheeked and ridiculous riot. I hope I'm real; but of course everyone thinks they are and honestly, would someone tell you that you weren't? But people sure tell me I'm romantic...to a fault. My poor husband. I am rosy-cheeked because I always eat the crust on my pb&j sandwiches. There is something of the ridiculous about me and I'm real enough to admit it! And sometimes I can be a riot (or cause one), although rarely on purpose.

U - I'm an unique, unimproved, unstudied and unfinished US American. Just like no two snowflakes are exactly alike (I learned that on Welcome Back Kotter-see, watching TV makes you smart), no two people are the same. We are all unique. Unimproved - I'm not new and I'm not improved. Because why improve something that works? Besides, my husband loves me this way. I definitely AM unstudied as evidenced by many things...wearing clothes with the tags still on them; leaving events still wearing a name tag, then being shocked later when complete strangers know my name; not getting jokes until five minutes after they are told (and sometimes then only pretending to get them). Unfinished - God's not finished with me yet and boy am I glad! US American...proud to live in the best country on Earth! (Right Toni2???)


T - I am a talkative, tenderhearted, thankful and thin telepath. Well, I'm definitely talkative, tenderhearted and thankful. The thin telepath is just wishful thinking.

H - I am a hearty eater, high-maintenance (my hubby told me this and I guess he should know) a heroine (of my own story), a home-educator, and heaven-bound.

Oh, and by the way Toni Paige, let's talk turkey. How much you willing to shell out for the ENTIRE summer?

OK, for the tags...

1.) Jan- 'Cause she's awesome and I really want to know how she sees herself.

2.) Mr. Big Doofus -(My husband, Mr. Shumway himself) Since I happen to know his middle name is Hootenanny, this should be fun!

3.) EE- Because she my twin, one year behind. (Ever seen that movie The Lakehouse?) Can't wait to see what she has to say!

4.) NeeNee - 'Cause she's fun, upbeat, encouraging and my maiden name is the same as her last name. Hope she has a long middle name!

Stress-relievers, tags, and BFFs

I'd like to have one of those things on my blog...you know...the progress report? Such and such miles have been run, such and such weight has been lost. But I don't. I only have this...a progress report of how many pages I've scrapbooked. (What is wrong with me?) Three pages today. People, when I get stressed, I scrapbook. (Or shop--but scrapbooking's cheaper; sometimes.) If men really knew how much those of us who scrapbook actually spend or how seriously addicting it is...well, I'm glad they don't. Or that they at least indulge us. (Which my husband does most of the time.)

OK, enough about that. Toni at Special K Family has tagged me. It's the first time it's ever happened to me. I think I'll mosey on over and see what it's all about. You should too!

And speaking of bloggy friends, Toni (Toni2 in the blog world--but just my friend Toni to me), at In The Midst of This Season, and I got together in my basement on Monday night. Yes, people, three hours spent in pseudo-scrapbook-but-really-just-an-excuse-to-talk time. Am I going to blog about it every time Toni and I get together? I doubt it. But I just have to say, she's awesome. And to think, I found her just by accident when my sister sent me a link to her blog and said I'd enjoy it. Neither of us had ANY IDEA that we lived less than 3 miles apart! I consider that a true gift from God because I foresee a great friendship.

Thursday Thirteen, #4

13 things kids (and many grown-ups) leave on the floor. (This list courtesy of Personal Experience.)

1. Socks.

2. Shoes.

3. Clothes.

4. Crumbs, spills, and sticky food messes.

5. Toys. (even expensive things like digital cameras or IPods.)

6. Sheets, blankets, comforter, pillows, and anything else that belongs on the bed.

7. Food and drink wrappers and cartons.

8. Pencils, pens, crayons, markers, etc.

9. Safety pins, straight pins, broken glass…actually anything that will hurt if stepped on.

10. Videos, CDs, DVDs.

11. Homework, lists, notes, anything important.

12. Coloring books, schoolbooks, laptop computers.

13. Games---board games with all the little pieces, or expensive games like an X-box or Gameboy.

13 things moms leave on the floor:

1. Carpet.
2. Hardwood or tile.
3. Soap. (to clean up spills)
4. Um….

Blog design contest!

Awesome contest!!! You can check it out and even enter, but since I play to win, you may be out of luck!

stuffed animals have bedtime too

While they were waiting for me to tuck them in, my daughters decided to tuck all their dolls and animals into their own beds (various shoeboxes) and have prayer time with them. The girls were so serious about the prayer requests; I NEVER want to forget their precious innocence. So here is what my 8 YO just finished telling me:

-Sasha (8YO's Build-A-Bear), prayed that God would make her eyebrows fluffy again.

-Sleepy Dog prayed that God would help him find Daisy the Skunk and Bluey the Lamb, both of whom are lost.

-Josephina (8YO's American Girl) prayed that God would let her mother get new clothes for her on her upcoming birthday.

-Carnation and Tommy are brother and sister cats. One's pink and one's gray. They fight all the time. Carnation prayed that her brother would be nice to her. Tommy prayed that his sister would stop being so dumb intellectually challenged.

-Veronica (10YO's Build-A-Bear) prayed for a punching bag. Apparently, when she loses her temper, she tends to use Sasha as a punching bag, so this request was seconded by Sasha.

-Kit (10YO's American Girl) prayed she would get new glasses when she becomes an adult.

-Snoopy prayed that his fur would always stay soft.

-"Unnamed doll" prayed that she would finally get a name. Her prayers were answered forthwith. She is now and forevermore known as Missy Amazing. Missy for short.

Just another day at the Little League ball park

Today at my daughter's double-header softball games, I witnessed the following things:

A boy came back to the bleachers and told his father the girl at the concession stand gave him too much change. The father said, "She only gave you a buck too much. Don't worry about it."

Behind me, some young kids were talking (unsupervised). One of the girls said she was going to relate a story that has a PG13 rating. One of the other children (he looked about 5YO) said, "Yay! I love to say cuss words!"

Two coaches got into a fist-fight (over a 10YO girl's softball game--nothing like a good fight in front of impressionable kids). Someone called the cops.

A man tried to break up said fight and had a heart attack. Someone called an ambulance.

The entire Brownsburg Little League softball diamonds was overrun with emergency vehicles.

Maybe it was the 93 degree heat or the blazing sun, but I think it all started in the Garden of Eden with the fall of man.

Thursday Thirteen

Recently, I posted the Miss Teen pageant with the interview question for Miss South Carolina, Caitlin Upton. Believe it or not, I don't think this will turn out to be a bad thing for her. Maybe I'm just justifying poking fun at her words. Whatever the reason, here's my Thursday Thirteen.

13 Things Miss Teen South Carolina was really trying to say in her Miss Teen pageant interview

1. U.S. America’s map shortage is a great tragedy and we should do everything we can to help.
2. Some U.S. Americans are unable to help.
3. We SHOULD help the South Africans. (Those people are so uneducated.)
4. Without a map, you are helpless to help.
5. The Iraq IS everywhere. (We’ve been tricked into thinking otherwise.)
6. But when we, like such as, "we" being U.S. Americans (as opposed to those SOUTH Americans or NORTH Americans), like such as, for example.
7. Some US Americans out there in our nation are unable to get help and we need to do something.
8. Our education, such as over here in the U.S., should help the U.S. or should help South Africa; it should help The Iraq and the Asian countries.
9. If only we could get maps to those that need them!
10. The Asian countries are in desperate need of education.
11. Educating random countries, such as and for example, will improve U.S. American children’s future.
12. The Iraq is very important and should be mentioned often.
13. And finally, Miss Upton was merely stating what I think we all know in our hearts; the reason twenty percent of Americans can’t locate the U.S. on a world map is because we don’t help South Africa, the Iraq, or the Asian countries.

That darn struggle

My two daughters were in the basement with me today. My 10 year old and I were scrapbooking and my youngest was hanging out asking tons of questions all the time as usual. When she's feeling left out, she often starts to do little things just to sort of bug the people around her. I guess she wants attention. (Imagine that; a child wanting attention.) So she kept "looking" at all the things my 10 year was just about to use for her layout.

When my 10 year old would ask for them, she would say, "Hold on! I'm not done looking!"

So finally my 1 year old had had enough and said, "Give it to me now!"

My youngest daughter replied, "I might not be able to give it back because I might struggle with anger."

What does that mean???

This is Miss Caitlin Upton’s interview for the 2007 National Miss Teen pageant.

I think this interview could be the best worst mistake of this young woman’s life.

1. Miss Upton was instantly skyrocketed to international fame in a matter of seconds and this will probably open numerous doors to her that wouldn’t be open to her before. The world now knows what she looks like, knows her name, knows her aspirations, even her college GPA (3.5). She has been on the Today show and featured in numerous magazines. And in this world where fame is so sought-after and difficult to achieve, that is quite a coup. (I’m sure very few people know the names, let alone the interests, of the other contestants, or even the winner.)
2. All the “meaness” perpetrated by unkind people has actually generated a lot of sympathy for her, not to mention outrageous amounts of publicity.
3. Part of being in the public eye is that (at least in this country) anyone can criticize you for anything. Look at when our president stumbles over a word.
4. Others may say it wasn’t a fair question, or how bad it would be if THEIR worst moments were taped. To that I say most of us don’t put on high heels and evening gowns or walk around on a stage wearing a bathing suit in front of a camera. No one made this girl enter this contest. I assume Miss Upton has spent many hours and a lot of money for training and wardrobe alone, to get where she is. She knew what she was doing---she knew there was an interview question. The pageant was in its rights to ask any question it wanted. Miss Upton was free not to answer it if she didn’t like it (or to not enter the pageant in the first place.) I’m sure many, many people in this world who are made fun of for something that is not their fault, would trade places with that beautiful young girl in a heartbeat.
5. Why don’t we feel as bad for all the public figures who are wrongly accused or misquoted or hated? Could it be because they don’t look like Miss Upton? Beauty trumps a lot of things and opens a lot of doors in this world, and Miss Upton is an all-American beauty.
   

Sometimes goofy, corny, stupid, embarrassing things accidentally come out of my mouth. It happens to some more than others, but we all have moments like that. They make life fun and interesting…unscripted. Some people are cruel---that’s not right. But sometimes what I say or what others say accidentally IS funny. That’s just a fact of life. When I do, my husband just laughs fondly and ruffles my hair. While that’s nice, I wish my “oops” moments landed me on the Today show.

High noon at Joannes

Thursday, I had a throw-down with the Joanne Crafts lady. I hope Debbie will forgive me. She works at Joanne's and I know for a fact she's a wonderful employee, helpful in the extreme, evidenced by her 2 "A Cut Above" awards. The saleslady I had yesterday was nothing like Debbie. I didn't specifically look to see if she had the special pin, but I would be very surprised if she did.

It all started when I wanted some simple scrapbook paper. 12X12 cardstock, to be exact. I am a bargain shopper due to necessity and will spend any amount of time required to look for the very best deal possible. So I'm used to reading sale signs carefully and always check the tiny numbers on the tags to be absolutely sure the item I want is the one on sale. (If it's not on sale, I don't buy it.)

So I went out on a mission. The cardstock I wanted comes in a "stack". I know exactly how much it costs, because I've checked it many times through the years.

I entered the store and walked straight to the "stacks". The one I wanted was on sale!!! 50% off!!! But wait. There were 7 other card stock 12X12 stacks and countless others 12X12 paper stacks. So began my ten minute deliberation. I wanted to BE SURE which of the stacks was on sale.

Let me set up a mental picture for you:

Large wall, full top to bottom with various "stacks" of all kinds, made by the same company, all the same size, but with different amounts of pages. Some were fancy, patterned or textured. Some were solid colors...all neutrals, all black and white, all bright colors, all pastels, etc. Some was cardstock, some was paper. The sale sign was posted ON the wire bracket holding the cardstock stack with the most amount of pages. It is called the VALUE STACK. There were so many of these, that there were actually five brackets holding VALUE STACKS and the sale sign was hanging from the one right in the middle. A few brackets over, there was another, smaller sign, on which was listed all the stacks that were not included. This was a long list. I spent many, much time (a joke from Brian Reagan) in front of this wall. The one I wanted, the one the sign was hanging from, was the only one with the words VALUE STACK printed on it. The sale sign said the sale was on VALUE STACKS. Still, I had to be sure. I looked at all of the stacks. I looked at the words and the numbers endlessly until I was cross-eyed.

You know how sometimes you get in the checkout line with an item you think is on sale, but you still have a reasonable doubt, so you watch it ring up, ready to ask the saleslady to take it off...you thought it was on sale but since it's not, you'll decline to buy it? Well, this wasn't one of those times.

I approached the older, gray-haired cashier with confidence. She rang me up. The stack didn't ring up on sale.

I told the lady politely that the item was on sale.

She shook her head. "No, this isn't on sale."

"There is a sign. It is on sale."

She rolled her eyes and picked up the phone at her station. "Yeah, Florence, there's a lady here. She says this cardstock stack is on sale." She listened and nodded a few times, then shot another accusing glance at me. "Yeah, that's what I told her." She covered the mouthpiece and leaned toward me. "It's not on sale."

"There is a sign. It says Value Packs, 50% off."

If the saleslady had been chewing gum, she would have snapped it in my face. She spoke into the mouthpiece again. "Yeah, Flo, she's insisting it's on sale." She flipped through it idly. "Yeah, the one with all the colors."
The tone of her voice clearly indicated that I was stupid for even thinking such a thing. That, or disdain that I would even care if it was on sale or not. Because you are more valuable as a person if you can pay ten extra dollars without blinking an eye. Anyway, her conversation with Flo went on for quite a while while I stood there, feeling dumb. I knew she wanted me to just say, "It's OK, don't worry about it. I'll pay full price," so she wouldn't have to get up and actually go check, but I knew I was right, darn it. The sign DID say Value Pack and the one the saleslady had clutched in her hands was the only one that said Value Pack. (Have I said that before?)

I didn't say anything during this conversation with Flo, but neither did I budge. The lady finally rolled her eyes again, hung up the phone, and without saying a word to me, got up and trudged back to the scrapbooking department.

By this time, another saleslady appeared. I assume it was Flo. She stood back, watching the whole thing with her arms crossed over her chest.

The first saleslady swept her hand around in a magical motion that I assume was meant to imply how stupid I was for thinking the paper with the sign in front of it could possibly be on sale. "That one isn't on sale."

Her grand gesture didn't distract me like she'd hoped.

"The sign says VALUE PACKS. Where are the other Value Packs?" At this point, I really wanted to see these other Value Packs...amazed I could have missed them.

The lady pointed her price gun at the Value Pack. "Nope, not on sale." She glowered at me indicating the ball was in my court. Let me pause here to mention that she did not attempt to help me locate the nebulous paper that WAS on sale, nor did Flo attempt to do anything but lower her eyebrows and cross her arms.

I have to admit that at this time, I was a little peeved angry frustrated, and it's possible my annoyance could be distinguished in my voice. "Why is the sign there? Why does it say Value Packs? Why does the sign indicate the sale is going from last week until next?"

She carelessly waved toward the other sign further away, the one with the list of stacks that were not included. "See, it says cardstock."

"No, it says the names of certain cardstock stacks."

We were at a standoff, and as we eyed each other appraisingly, I heard the cry of birds wheeling in the air and saw tumbleweeds roll by. But she was the one with the gun and I knew it. She didn't give me the courtesy of responding, merely rolled her eyes again, took her powerful price gun, and started shooting all the stacks.

Finally, one rang up at the sale price. The one at the far end, the one called a DESIGNER STACK with fewer pieces of fancy embossed cardstock. CARDSTOCK!

I tried nicely to explain for the tenth time why I would possibly think the Value Pack was on sale. She turned to Flo and said, "I know you tried to make that sign to help people," she indicated the long list of items that weren't included in the sale, "I guess not everyone understands."

I tried AGAIN to explain and ask her why the sale item was no where near the sign. This whole time she didn't once smile or help me in any way. "THIS is a value stack," she said dismissively about the fancy cardstock on sale.

"Then why is THIS one the only stack with those words?"

She just shrugged and started walking back to her register. She'd wasted enough time with a moron like me, I guess. As she walked away, I glared daggers at her back and dreamed of not-nice-things I would like to do/say to her.

Today, my dad (also my pastor) preached about being wronged and not demanding our rights, like Jesus. Maybe I should have heard his sermon before this happened.

Blah

OK, run down of my day. (If anyone cares) It was a beautiful day...low seventies and sunny, not that it matters, but I thrive on things like that.

Got up, made coffee for moi and sick hubby.

Scrapbooked. (Trying to keep the ball rolling in that department.)

Got dressed up and went my church where I am a wedding coordinator. Coordinated a wedding.

Went to my daughter's softball double-header. Left early.

Went to the library where I had what you might call, "a misunderstanding" with the lady at the adult service desk..again! (Regular readers of my blog will remember my previous experiences at the library.)

Made supper for the kids and ate in the car.

Went back to the church to let in the father of the bride in so he could pick up the last of the decorations.

Made lots of phone calls to coordinate all the crazy, yet mundane, events in my life. (I'm a good coordinator...sometimes.)

Went to Walmart. (I only saw a woman in army pants, hot pink heels, spiky hair, and a sparkly turquois T-shirt today...it was a slow day.)

Went to the neighbor's jewelry and party-light open house.

Wrote an email to my friend Toni in a desperate attempt to put off tucking my kids into bed and cooking for an event I have tomorrow.

Wrote this entry for the same reasons as above.

Still writing this entry for the same reasons as above.

OK, still writing...oh heck, the kids are making noise upstairs. Gotta. Go. Tuck. Them. In. Be. Back. Later.

13 examples of American ingenuity

Thirteen examples of American stupidity ingenuity

disclaimer: regular readers of my blog might recognize some of these pictures.


The white circle says "Spins with water spraying action".
Imagine hooking this up in your yard and watching it go.


This vehicle has cost us thousands of dollars in maintenance...I'm all for buying American cars, but this is ridiculous.


OK, let me just say I put this picture in here because I got this as a wedding gift 14 years ago and it still makes me mad every time I use it. (You'd think I'd replace it, but you'd be wrong.) It is so poorly designed...the cord is on the wrong side and is so strong that every time you set it down, the darn thing spins all over the counter, spraying batter all over the kitchen. (Hey, maybe it can be hooked up with Darth Vader and sprinkle my front lawn...hmmm...) I've tried everything, standing in tons of different locations, even tried using it with my left hand, to no avail. Oh yeah, and the beaters are so hard to get out that you almost have to use a hammer...there's nothing like batter-covered hammer pieces in your food. Maybe the manufacturers, examples of how to design and sell a superior product, thought that would be a unique, nice addition to what is being baked. OK, I just had to rant. Now back to our regularly-scheduled, short TT, so that you can read it quickly and be on your way!!



Self explanatory



This one was posted in a Burger King.




Yeah, that's right. Now go play the right one!



For those professional marker users out there.




For those who need special help in the Burger King bathroom. Obviously not Sharpie professional users.




It's a person and a butterfly!!! What did YOU think it was? (Drawn very innocently by my young daughter.)





Yes, I realize this is only ten examples and I didn't even say anything about Viagra. But I was up late last night and this is the best I can do on little sleep. Please accept my humble apologies for short-changing TT!

FUN!!!!

Here begin the Lake Michigan Shumway Family Chronicles:





I am writing from here:


Let me just say a few words about Lake Michigan. In my opinion, it is the best-kept secret in the Midwest, maybe even the country. (At least for the 5 month warm season---winter is a whole other story.) This is our fourth year to spend a week here, and the kids look forward to it more than Christmas…there are 9 adults, six kids, and two babies. On Saturday, my brother, his wife and their toddler drove up from Indy. This year we found a new place to rent—a wonderful beach house with five bedrooms, each with their own bathroom:
(We love the flexibility homeschooling gives us to decide when to spend our vacation time. Since we were able to come after Labor Day, the people who own the beach home gave us the week for 1000.00 dollars less, added an extra day, and waived the cleaning fee.)

The water is so shallow, you can walk out 100 feet on the softest, cleanest sand and still not be up to your neck:

The Chicago skyline was 50 miles across the water:

Sunday, we had a church service:

I loved having my family around me, singing as loud and excitedly as we wanted:

The six older kids performed a play (written and produced by my wonderful mother) entitled, To be kind, or not to be; that is the question. The kids were amazing and the costumes were impressive.

Afterwards, our 13-Y-O son played guitar while the other 5 sang an original song about Jesus that went along with the play, also by my talented mother. It was soooo precious.

We had what you might call, a little bit of a fly problem, so my bro-in-law researched it online and came up with a homemade fly trap. As a result, Mr. Shumway made a homemade owl trap. So my bro-in-law souped up his fly trap and named it The “Roger is a dork and Andrea is dumb” Fly Trap. My sweet daughter crossed out “Andrea is dumb” because that’s her mom, but for some unknown reason left the part about her dad being a dork.

Mr. Shumway’s comment to the group? “We’ve been owl-free this entire time, and no one has even said thank you.”

By the way, the above contraptions were labeled with this:

Because after years of experience writing with markers, the members of this family consider themselves professionals, capable of handling Sharpie professional pens.

As I've said before, I have a brother who's been deployed to Iraq. His twin boys were with us and loved their first surf experience!

This week was full of memories. Like my sister said, I wish we could bottle it and put it in a jar. I mean to try…

Arrgghh!

I can't get this darn thing to post pictures! The post editor bar has disappeared from my posting screen and I've spent way too much time trying to figure out why and get it back! I want to post some Lake Michigan pics and can't! Arggg!

We interrupt this vacation for a quick update

I've been on vacation to Lake Michigan since last Tuesday and am sharing dial-up with five other internet-crazed people as well as trying to leave the line free in case my brother calls from Iraq. I'll post a long, hopefully not-too-boring recap when I get back. (Or probably several boring posts!!!!)

Thursday Thirteen

13 Things I learned last night at family game night

There is an old Hawaiian saying: It is possible to talk to cattle if you have a nice set of udders. (Common sense.)

There is an old Zulu saying: Follow the customs, or flee the country. (Are these things made up?)

There’s an old Portuguese saying: Never trust a dog who limps. (Because if they are stupid enough to get into an accident, you don’t want ‘em!)

Things a doctor shouldn’t say: Well Mrs. Shumway, it looks like we removed the wrong toe.

There is an old Spanish saying: The wedding feast is not made only of mushrooms. (Or cute guys or a killer band or free-flowing wine or great food or…well, you get the picture. It is made up of LOVE people! LOVE!)

There is an old Syrian saying: Only donkeys that have bad backs walk arrogantly. (The ones that walk humbly are OK.)

Things our president shouldn’t say during an inspiration speech: Take a lesson from the hawk, our national mascot.

There’s an old Spanish saying: Honey is not for asses. (No, these things are too true to be made up.)

There’s an old English saying: After the cheese comes the smell.

There’s an old Turkish saying: When there is fat on your hand, smear it on your side. (I do this all the time. You should see my clothes.)

There’s an old Romanian saying: The husband doesn’t know what the rest of the village knows.

Things you shouldn’t say at a funeral: Listen! What’s that smell? (You should have seen the looks I got when I said this at the last funeral.)

And last but not least: There’s an old Mozambican saying: The man who has oiled himself, never looks dull.

Biblical Action Figures

After reading my Bratz and Barbie Doll blog entry, my friend Judy sent me a link to this news article:

BENTONVILLE, Ark. -- Wal-Mart said 425 of its stores will sell Biblical action figures aimed at Christian parents who prefer their children play with Samson, David or Noah rather than with a comic book character or Bratz doll.Wal-Mart Stores spokeswoman Melissa O'Brien said the world's largest retailer believes there's demand for faith-based toys.The toy line will be in some Wal-Mart shelves starting in August, mainly in the Midwest and South, but also in California and as far northeast as Pennsylvania.
The toys include a 3-inch figure of Daniel in the lion's den, a 12-inch talking Jesus doll and a 13-inch Samson action figure.

You gotta wonder what actions these "action figures" perform. Because my kids gotta have some action. Does Daniel fight off lions with karate chops? Does Samson's hair grow when you push a button on his back? If the 12-inch talking Jesus performs miracles, we are so there!

(NOT SO) Secret Admirer

My husband, Mr. Robotface Shumway has an admirer and it's not me.

A man in our church owns season tickets to the Indianapolis Indians baseball team. When he can't attend, he offers them to the other church members at a first-come, first serve basis. As a result, we have been able to attend three games this summer, always sitting on the first row right behind the dugout. They are great seats in a great stadium and I thoroughly enjoy each game. Except for the blonde woman that flirts with my husband.

She is at each game---young, thin, wearing high heels (on a baseball field), holding a microphone, appearing larger-than-life on the score-board screen in between innings as she interviews players and encourages spectators to compete for White Castle "sliders" or an all-expense-paid trip to the local cafeteria. She is the queen of the seventh-inning stretch, rally caps and spinning in circles with your head on a bat so that you are so dizzy, you can't find the six-foot blow-up Corona bottle and are unable to roll a beer keg to "second base". (What she calls first base.) Oh, this one is a keeper.

Anyway, such is my nemesis. After the first inning, this girl always throws T-shirts wrapped into foot-ball sized bundles into the screaming crowd. These shirts are very nice and very desirable if the pushing and shoving and yelling to get one is any indication. At the first game, she looked at my husband, who wasn't even trying to get her attention, and threw a shirt just to him. He just sat there and shrugged his shoulders as everyone else looked on in envy.

The second time we went, the same thing happened. This shirt was even nicer, and my husband started to realize what a great thing this was, although we both thought it was an amazing coincidence.

So we went to a game Friday evening with some friends. Mr. Shumway had jokingly told them about the T-shirt incidences, laughingly speculating about this girl's crush on him. The first inning ended. The girl came out. The crowd went wild. Our friends both leapt to their feet
and yelled with the crowd, their hands outstretched. My husband joined in as I sat and watched. The girl wasn't even in our area and was tossing shirt bundles way up into the stands, several rows behind where we sat. She tossed all her shirts away but one, and still she was some distance away and not even looking at us. But at the last minute, she looked at Mr. Shumway from the corner of her eye and tossed the shirt right at him. It was an amazing throw, circumventing many outstretched, eager hands, to land directly in his.

Our friends looked at him in amazement. I didn't move. What had been a joke took on new meaning as the old adage, "Third time's a charm," went through my head. But then Mr. Shumway hugged me close and I knew the high-heeled blonde beauty had nothing on me as far as he was concerned!

It's all relative

When my 8 YO daughter and I were watching my 10YO's softball practice a couple of evenings ago, a bee was plaguing us. Wherever we went, it seemed to follow. After running in circles like a mad-woman, hovering over my baby like a protective mama bear, we moved to the top bleacher and I hugged my daughter close as she whimpered in fear. I told her I wouldn't let the bee get her.

"How do you know? I get stung by bees all the time."

"No you don't. When have you been stung before?"

A conversation ensued in which she proceeded to remind me of the four times that she's been stung. As her mother, I felt bad she had to remind me, but after all, it was ONLY four times.

"Four times isn't very much," I said outloud, thinking that she was eight, so that averaged once every two years.

"Yes it is. You always tell me that four dollars is a lot of money."

Touche, Izabella. Touche.