Holy Miniature Schnauzer, Batman!

There are dreams, and then ~ there are dreams.

The ones that you wake up from, shaking your head, wondering, "What on earth was that all about?" and "Where on earth did those images come from?"

Such was the wee morning hours in my Southern California dreaming.

The subject matter?

None other than.

Quite rotund and playful, the images of the Miniature Schnauzer, about five months old, romping in gaiety with the DellDog cajoled my dream-self to get down on the floor with 'em. The imagery was so real, I could literally feel the softness of that puppy fur upon awakening.

What does it mean?

I need another puppy?

The DellDog is lonely?

I miss Gil?

I really want a cat?

The oven was left on overnight??

I mean honestly . . .who can make sense of those scenes that surface from one's subconcious mind?

Alas. I awoke, and no plump pup greeted me with a hot wet tounge upon my cheek. No faux tough-guy growl emitted from a ball of fur, seeking a game of tug-of-war.

Dell, however, was sleeping peacefully beside me. When he surfaced from his sleep-state due to my rousing, he happily looked at me, promptly requesting his morning walk to the potty spot.

I ruffled the fur on top of his head, and gave him a chirpie good morning - in love with him; yet wistfully longing for that LittlePup nuzzle that had just been so near.

The Art Of Waiting

Given the complex landscape of the entertainment industry, our little brood has had opportunity to further strengthen our waiting skills.

I was of the opinion that for the most part, I have instilled within my children the ability to wait patiently for lengths of time in a positive manner, without meltdown.

. . .And then, we moved to LA.

Oh, I suppose we aren't really waiting for great lengths beyond what we were accustomed to waiting before, it just feels different, since the parameters have changed, and since our sphere of activities have been narrowed down to just a couple of channels.

[Ha! As I type that, I realize that statement is particularly humorus! Couple of channels! Television! Entertainment industry! LOL ~ boy, I'm good . . .and that's even BEFORE my first cup of coffee has been properly swilled! LOLOL Egads! Where are my Scriptures on pride? Must. maintain. humility!!! LOLOL

Quick~ somebody note my great sense of wit for me, so that I'm not patting myself on the back. Then, I can enjoy the wit fully, sans the puffalump syndrome. (I must be spending waaaayyyyy too much time alone, and not enough mixing with people, if I'm having to edify mine own self.) Wait. Now I'm on a completely different thought process. Where was I? Oh yeah. Waiting. Egads! Sorry, folks! LOL]

[ahem]

Waiting.

We've discovered different types of waiting here.

Waiting for the audition call.
Waiting for the audition time.
Waiting for the photographer.
Waiting for the headshots.
Waiting for the printer.
Waiting on the freeway.
Waiting curbside because we've arrived too early, because we were unfamiliar with the traffic patterns on said such freeway.
Waiting in line at the audition.
Waiting post audition for the call-back.
Waiting for the next plausible window of time to make phone calls outside the timezone.

Waiting . . .

Waiting . . .

Waiting . . .

The key to waiting is the ability to wait with patience. To entertain oneself in such a manner that the down time is enjoyable, pleasant, and not focused on the minute hand [or red neon digit] of the clock.

To demonstrate this very important skill, my boys (did I mention I have TWO?!?!) will now give their presentation on how to wait well:

There you have it, Choosers. All one needs to wait well is a receipt, a mouth, and a 7.5 month old curiosity.

Easy enough to obtain, right?

Well, it's working for us, in this much overrated cityscape.

Now, if I can only muster the patience to wait, as very soon, we'll have visitors! I'm about to come out of my skin!! Can you guess who's coming to see us?

Dell will be happy.

Not to mention the rest of us!

Vista Visa

I'm not one for tons of vista pictures. Don't get me wrong - I love looking out across the horizon and viewing God's grandeur in front of me. It's just that, for the most part, photos that include human be'ns and/or an item of intricate visual draw tops my list of faves first.

Not only that, but I think human nature has a tendency to take the nature shot over the human be'n shot because human be'ns in front of a camera, for the most part, are quirky. Why, I don't know . . .but one look at Aunt Matilde from yesteryear, and you can verify that people jes' don't act right in front of a lens.

Need I say more?

Anyway, yesterday evening as we headed home in LA rush hour traffic (which I handled like an expert, I might add. Even traversing the Indy-500-Car-Pool-Lane like I've been doing it all my life!), and pulled off the freeway to take the 'back way' into our cosy little city dweller abode, I just *had* to pull over, and get out my camera.

I'd never noticed before, the crisp edge of the mountain ridge that surrounds us on that side. The sun was reflecting off of it just so, and it. was. breathtaking.

At that same moment, I realized, I've been selfish. In my manner of avoiding vistas, I've left you, my Chooser readership, bereft of any sort of visual respite from your dull and boring, redundant days. Knowing that a host of you live vicariously through me, through the adventures my family continually find ourselves on . . .well, consider me repentant.

Consider this an apology for my errant ways.

Honest.

I didn't mean to leave you in the dust.

So, please, allow me.

Before I begin, you might want to refresh your coffee cup. Get comfy. Turn on some mood music. You know, the kind with birds chirping in the background, and a waterfall foaming in the distance.

Or, maybe, since this is arid California terrain, maybe the sound of the wind blowing sand across the mesa, and said such sand smacking against the side of your car . . .***

Oh, wait. That spoils it. Forget the sand imagery. Back to the birds and waterfalls . . .

[Ahem] Are you ready? Coffee? Deep Breath?

Ok, Choosers! Here ya go: Your own personal visa for a mini-vacation at your fingertips!!

{breathing deeply}

There. Don'tcha just feel better already?

Here to serve, my Chooser friends . . .I'm here to serve.

")

Engaging

Continuing thoughts of community are on my mind this morning. Thoughts such as going beyond the assembly ~ making an impact and influencing our neighborhood.

I suspect the need for action in today's society is great. Over a generation, people have become increasingly, purposefully sequestered from others. Some, in an attempt to gain privacy; some, the result of depression or infirmity; some, through anti-social behaviors . . .the list could go on.

Yet in the heart of most, I believe a longing to be known and cared for resides. Fear of vulnerability; fear of personal harm; fear of leaving a created comfort zone: all of these hindrances to stepping out, and being neighborly.

The boldness of Christ can overcome all that.

As I consider my neighbors this morning, I ask the Father to grant me an opportunity to be of service to them. I ask for opportunities to share a smile, a warm-hearted story, a laugh or two. I ask for opportunities to be present in the time of need.

How long has it been since you've spoken with your neighbor?
What recent attempt have you made to brighten someone else's day?
In what manner have you been of service to someone outside of your household?

Has Jesus been seen in your neighborhood?

Community

Yesterday morning, the children and I attended the local fellowship that we, as a family while Gil was present, determined was to be our connect point while The Adventure plays out.

Driving up the scenic tree laden street, I couldn't help but smile, as a group of individuals arrived on time, simultaneously, on foot, in cars . . .The spring-like morning encompassed us all in a state of happy greeting as we entered the home of the host family.

Finding a comfortable spot among a group of new and just-met faces was easy, as the knowledge that we all shared Christ Jesus in common was at the forefront. The diversity of backgrounds gave flavor to the gathering. A kindly, pleasant professor from a local college; a couple of Chinese descent, business professionals with remarkable insight; a man of Hispanic descent and gentle manner, a former gang member turned Christ-ward; a beautiful young mom, single parenting her children, with a toward-Christ heart; two married couples: one gracious and gentile, native to California, one adventurous and excited about Christ-life, from the midwest. Then, there was us. One Mom, two teens, and a baby. Everyone was willing to share.

Share we did. The past week's events, prayer points and requests, conversation of current events that impacted us personally.

And then, the breaking of the Bread of Life:

It was at this Truth, this centerpoint that we all lay down our own indentifiable mannerisms and qualities in exchange for taking up the mind of Christ, and sharing His life, choosing His ways over our own self-directed thoughts and ideas. The Word now took center stage, and we participated in and with the Scriptures, allowing the two-edged sword to hone and refine us for the Master's use.

It was hearty dialouge.

It was pertinent to the day we live in.

It was as a refreshing drink on a warm day.

Time sped by, and all too soon, the day shifted, and we parted ways.

The drive home was reflective. The knowledge of a new community had been brought to life in my heart. No longer alone in the journey, my heart had begun the knitting of kinship with these folks.

My brothers, my sisters.

Family I'd previously been oblivous to, unaware of their existance, now front and center.

I cannot help but wonder ~ to what end, and to what purpose, Father, this gathering? this group? What plans do You have, joining us with these?

I welcome the unfolding and unveiling that will occur over the next few months, all the while praying that in being blessed, I will also be a blessing.

And they told what things were done in the way, and how he was known of them in breaking of bread. And as they thus spake, Jesus himself stood in the midst of them, and saith unto them, Peace be unto you. Luke 24:35-36

A Pictorial Review: City Dwellers

Vestiges

I had meant to tell Tiffany to be sure and pick up our pictures when they came due, because I certainly couldn't do it. I shouldn't have concerned myself so, since I did forget, and she didn't!

Her comments over the phone reminded me of my last night in Mississippi, and of my beloved KeetonKroutonHead.

I just *had* to get my fill of his plump little legs and hands once again. Watching Keller tentatively pull himself up on the edge of the couch only served to remind me of Keeton's lightening fast speed when it came to getting where he wanted to go!

Pulling out my file folder, I gazed upon those chubby cheeks, irrefutably designed to sucker in the nearest individual with their charm. Photo by photo I scrolled . . .

and then I stopped.

There she was.

I hadn't noticed before, nor had it seemed so prominent. Or had it? Had absence suddenly brought forward memories from days gone by? I saw Tiffany's baby face framed in the countenance of a little boy:


Deciding it was the dimple, and the curve of the mouth, I prepared to move on. But no ~ the mischevious twinkle in the eye - now THAT was a Tiffany trait! I hit the search button on the computer system, wondering if I had *that* photo scanned and saved.

To no avail.

Yet I happened across one picture of TiffanyTwoShoes that at least revealed a portion of what I was connecting the dots with:

Remembering how, as a toddler, Tiffany would comically toss out some funny face or unique noise to capture a stranger's attention caused me to smile. She was so markedly different from Bethany, so loveable . . .I had wanted to squeeze her until the love oozed out all over me so I'd never forget.

But I didn't forget.

I haven't forgotten.

I'm still in love.

In love with my little girl grown into an adult with a life full of fun and zest and responsibilities and frustrations and ups and downs.

Yes. The little girl that texted me the other day, while down for the count with a bug of some sort. The little girl in misery said, "Ma-ma!! :("

I couldn't do anything from afar but lift her up in prayer.

No tea. No toast. No tylenol.

I couldn't do anything but love.

I wonder how my Mom did it all those years. Miles and miles away from her child, her grandchildren.

And then, I realized.

She couldn't do anything but love.

Ah.

Sweet love it is.

She does it well.

Her Turn.

For Aubrey, attending yesterday's audition with Israel went much smoother. She'd preened herself for looking optimistically at the opportunity posed for another, and that preening served her well. Not once did she head south; not once did she crash and burn emotionally.

No, as I'm sure inquiring minds want to know ~ she did not get tapped on the shoulder to audition herself out of the blue . . .but she DID get the suprise of her life shortly after we dropped Israel off at his next task: class.

Since I'm a DriverExtraordinaire in all things LA [giggle!], I considered what two children and I might do for an hour and half while we waited.

Starbucks was nearby, but I happened upon a larger, much more exciting prospect!

I immediately put my plan into action, under clandestine speech. Cruising downthe highway as though I'd lived here all my life, we whizzed by the Ford Theatre. Aubrey began protesting. "Mom! Mom! I know that's where Nicholas Cage's handprints are! Take me there, puh-lease!!!"

Hmmm. No. Dear.

I kept driving, and she settled in for the ride. Soon, we were parking in familiar territory. The Hollywood Walk of Fame. Again. This time, though, we were higher up on the strip, and much closer to my planned destination. Take a look for yourself, and just wonder outloud: "Is Angi a FANTASTIC mother or what?!?!?" Then, sip your coffee, and continue on. ")

She literally stumbled upon it.

Then she shrieked.

Then, she began preening the cement sidewalk as though it had a cowlick. [Can you tell preening is one of our current vocabulary words? I'm using it for effect, for Aubrey, who is *certain* we didn't go over it yesterday. Yeah. Right. ")]



It was at this juncture that I began getting really excited about my plan. All the pieces were falling into place nicely, and I was assured of getting a marvellous response out of her in just a few short moments.

But there were roadblocks ahead.

We had taken the sidewalk underneath the scaffolding. Soon, we happened upon this scene:



Didja catch that? Here, take a closer look:


Yep. Spidey was out, and his Spidey senses told him that something was up with the AubreyGirl. He swore himself to secrecy, and assured me he would utter not a word. I was so grateful!

HA! I crack myself UP! That was halarious!!! Spidey, sworn to secrecy - won't say a word! LOLOLOLOL!!


[Ahem] Well, anyway, very soon, we were at my intended destination. Grauman's Chinese Theatre. Only Aubrey didn't know that. I hedged on our recent China studies in school. "Aubrey! Look at THAT!"

She wasn't very impressed . . .but at this juncture I didn't mind, as I slyly said . . . .



"Aubrey! Now look down!" She did so, and then burst into squeals of excitement!


An immediate hunt for Nicolas Cage embarked.



We saw many famous prints. Clark Gable; Fred Astaire; Ron Howard . . .



Yet for all the looking and searching, Nicolas was lost in the crowd. The inevitable finally dawned on her. She'd have to ask someone.

Summoning all of her courage and bravery, drawing a deep breath, she walked away, looking for anyone who might appear important enough to know.

And that's when it happened.

I heard my name being called from across the portico.


She had found it! "Mom! I didn't have to ask! The minute I stopped looking so hard ~ I found him!!!"


So here was my baby girl. Third from the top, and her own person through and through, learning, unwittingly, yet another life lesson of great import.

Yes, I'd say she's growing into some bigger shoes, this girl-turning-lady.



If I could have ever hoped to capture a photo that revealed the internal burst of emotion that she was expressing, I could have never planned to do so. This, a gift to my mother's heart, the one that say's "Good Job, Mom", this once in a lifetime capture, says it all:



Yes, looking at life through the eyes of expectation and hope; of being glad for the other person; of letting go of something so greatly desired in order to obtain it; these are lessons of life that bring up to maturity and adulthood.

May we all remember to walk in these wisdoms.

And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; and experience, hope: And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us. Romans 5: 3-5

SkaterBoyDreamLandNirvanaThingy . . .And Other Thoughts

It was late in the planning stages for this adventure that my thought turned away from misgivings to conceptual ideas that this might actually have some additional, fun and interesting bennies associated with it.

Like huge libraries.

Hiking trails.

Starbucks. (Did I say that outloud?! Consarn that D, corrupting me in such fashion! LOL)

Sure enough, I've not been let down. The sensory overload capacity is currently set at the edge of overflow, and I've not even really begun to tap into the numerous resources that exist!

It was only natural that as I perused for an Off-Leash Dog Park the other day that my Fearless BoyWonder (the same one that had daringly attempted to knock down a steel telephone pole with his face just days earlier, resulting in a huge, nasty red . . .ummm . . .steelburn of sorts upon his cheek) would pipe up, all chirpi-fied, requesting directions to the nearest skatepark. Of such a site he desired to refine his skateboarding abilities and talents.

Of course, dear. Let me investigate.

There she stood: Looming large in the photographs, and causing BoyWonder to drool.

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and asked tenatively: "How much does it cost to get in?"

There was a deafening pause before I dramatically announced: "It's FREE."

If one could replay in their minds an episode of Bugs Bunny imitating a seizure filled death before Yosimite Sam, one can imagine the immediate, forcefull, ecstatic reaction of my 13.5 year old son.

I had to call him down off the rafters ~ for alas! The FREE skatepark, in all it's glory, requires helmet, knee and elbow pads . . .AND . . .a skateboard. As opposed to a scooter, which is what he currently owns in the grand country of California.

Crestfallen as he was, I coached him to look forward to another day wherein he could partake in the recreational delights that lay before him.

Fastforward now to yesterday afternoon, where I stood, in my miniature kitchen, baking bananna bread for my little family of [four], slicing radishes, preparing a favorite dish for supper.

The sun was pouring in the windows. The windows were open. A light breeze filtered in. We had just successfully completed another day of school, and the children were happy, content, and otherwise easy to contain.

It was at that moment that I became completely aware, in my conscious thoughts, of a deep, abiding, inexplicable sense of contentment and joy at the current circumstances which surrounded me.

Upon further reflection, I became aware that I've been buzzing about with this overwhelming sense for several days. Even though my family is separated; even though I had numerous brooding thoughts about living in California; even though . . .

Nope. The shadows of concern that had sought to take me over prior to our trip here were gone. Kaput. Annihilated.

I'd followed my husband's lead, he'd spearheaded the project. And while I voiced my insecurities, I did not allow those insecurities to rule me.

Standing on the other side of ten days worth of Gil letting out the rope tied around my waist as I waded into the water, I can honestly say that the Lord is my stronghold. He is my safeguard. He is my strong tower, which I run to.

And there, under the shadow of His wing, I do rejoice.

Because thou hast been my help, therefore in the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice. Psalm 63:7

Even The Dog . . .

. . .has to adjust to a new venue these days.

As if it weren't enough that he'd successfully (if not warily) flown in the belly of the Big Plane; worked through his separation anxiety issues while we settled in to our new pad; and discovered that apartment dwelling still meant one cannot bark at passers-by, the DellDog found himself right smack in the middle of culture shock like the rest of us.

It began with potty breaks.

In the country, where we live, Dell took his potty breaks on leash. He occasionally would be allowed to roam free, if the boy child were out climbing trees or whatnot. The leash, however, was his constant companion.

Well, SlackerDogTrainingMom that I evidently am, I did not develop a strong insistence that the DellMeister not pull when headed out to do his biz. He did not have an uber-bad habit, but, a habit it was, nonetheless.

Enter apartment living, where for every one of the 30,000 people (is that an exaggeration? I can't tell . . .! LOL) who live here, there is most likely ONE animal of some sort, and of those pets, at least half head outside to do their body biz several times a day. It makes for a wonderful panormaic doggie haven of scents to discover!

Dell, being the highly sophisticated nose dog that he is, felt it his primary duty to RUSH to the nearest blade of grass (of which there are few!) and dive his nose into the bouquet in barbaric fashion, much like those who might eat with their hands, vs using silverware.

Ahem! This simply will not do! Because ~ add THAT behavior to the host of doggie girls (and boys) walking by at any given moment, and Dell felt it was his soveriegn duty to RUSH said such pet in a very overfriendly, almost aggressive, "I'm smaller than you, so I'm going to dominate you immediately, before you have time to react" kinda way.

Therefore, his momma: Me, promptly headed to the nearest pet store and made a purchase of one of these friendly anti-pull devices:

Well, the device works like a charm, I tell ya. Dell, while not to keen on the device, is now a pleasant and willing heeling companion, even though it goes against every doggie sensibility he's wired with.

Noting this, I decided (since the human natives were also restless) to take the lad on a sojourn to one of the seven local parks in the vicinity. It would do the kids some good to blow off some steam, and Dell could work out all his kinks in one fell swoop. And, I had this new tool with which to keep his dashing in check.

Not totally insensitive to his need to run, however! I chose the park with a dog park included [appropriately named Central Bark], so that the DellDog could engage in some much needed freetime running off leash.

Well, here we are, at the free-style run. Can you see us? See the incredible scenery that surrounds us? The chapparal, the mountains . . .Can you feel the breeze whipping through your hair? Most importantly: Do you feel the need to don your shades???

So, here we are, in the dog run: a HUGE area that gives any dog of the cooped up persuasion the opportunity to run flat out ~ as fast as his little doggie heart desires ~ and even chase a tennis ball or two.

Things didn't quite work out as I'd envisioned. Can you see us there? Under the tree?

Yup. That's Dell. Hangin' close to the hommies. We couldn't get him to move about for anything. It was nothing short of frustrating: that he would not take advantage of an opportunity given him.

Hmmmm. Why does that thought seem so familiar??? LOL

So, we coaxed and cajoled. FINALLY, we saw some action from Mr. StubbyLegs:

A half-hearted dash to me, and then, a visit to the watering hole nearby, where Aubrey had met a new friend:

Interestingly, and amazingly enough, the DellDog showed nary an interest in this new neighbor. Evidently, the fence took all joy out of In Real Life meet-ups, and I, his mom, am a real party-pooper.

No pun intended.

So, we packed up and headed home.

And Aubrey wiped out.

But that, my Chooser friends, is another story for another day . . .