Don't Read This If You're Easily Queasy

With the last post and this one, I may be forced to rename this blog "All Things Vile and Uncouth".

Just having recovered from a bout of congestion and laryngitis, I composed a rather noxious poem. Jeff dared me to post it and since I'm not willing to rise to the occasion for many of his dares, I've taken him up on this one. Enjoy:

An Ode to Snot

When mucus, thick as long-stewed jam,
Obstructs the passageways,

And clinging mulishly to cords
It coarsens lilts to brays--

Phlegm morphs the songbirds into crows
And debutantes to hags--

It mocks as sinuses it blocks
And uvulas it gags--

When loosened gruesome globules are
By Fortune forced aloft,

A mortifying greenish drip
May shame the one who coughed

Rotting Flesh, A Bad Grade and A True Fish Story

The update on Jeff's leg injury is that the wound is infected and he is off work until further notice. Surprisingly, he's not quite as excited about that as one might think. (Perhaps the thought of amputation is taking the air of festivity out of this unplanned holiday.)


He's been on meds, both oral and topical, since last Wednesday, but the wound's progress is not quite what we were hoping for. I'm about to sew bells onto the hems of his clothes and require him to holler out, "Unclean! Unclean!" as he shuffles through crowds.

He's got another doctor's appointment on Thursday. The doctor he saw this morning recoiled in horror when he unwrapped his leg...not the most professional reaction! (Nor the most encouraging.)

Neither one of us is genuinely worried at this point, but it would be nice to see more evidence of healing taking place. My dad has a friend whose infected skin wound needed to be treated with a medicine that cost $1,000 per pill! We're still hoping to go on vacation this year...


An "F"?

I have the online capability to check how Tobias is doing in each of his classes. The website shows if he has turned in assignments and what grades he got on tests, etc.

Well...the other day I was perusing his grades in his PE class and I was very surprised to see he had gotten an F on one assignment in particular.

What?!?! I thought.

However, my dismay turned into peals of laughter when I saw that the assignment in question was entitled "Dance Performance". If my 13 year old son is going to fail an assignment, I guess that would be the one.

A Fish Story

Delaney just returned from a weekend camping trip with the other 4th, 5th and 6th graders from the fellowship. She was absolutely delighted to tell us her very own fish tale (which was verified by about 4 equally joyous adults). It went something like this:

"Everybody else was fishing for about 4 hours. At the very end of that, someone asked me if I wanted to hold their pole. I saw some yellow bait floating by on the top of the water, so I scooped it up and put it on the hook and cast the line out. I was only holding it for about five minutes when Jake started telling everyone to pack up. I started reeling in the line to put the pole away and there was a speckled trout on the end of the line!"

She was the only one to catch a fish. She didn't eat a single bite of it although she did parade around the campsite with its head on the end of a stick--a bit of her barbaric ancestry showing through.

Anybody Know What It's Like to...

...call your husband at work to talk to him and be told by his coworker that he just left for the Emergency Room?

I do.

"You mean he drove one of the minors to the ER?" I asked.

"No, he went for himself," she said. "One of the nurses here looked at his leg and told him it needed to be checked out immediately."

(About a week ago, he crashed while going off some jumps on his BMX bike. Although he has been faithfully pouring peroxide over the huge scab on his calf several times a day, it still looks like a snot oozing piece of beef jerky.)

Knowing Jeff, he was probably just glad to get away from work for a couple of hours, even if it meant waiting to be seen at the ER. (Each Fall, I invite him to come with me to get a flu shot and he always declines saying, "If I get the flu then I won't have to go to work." Can you tell he loves his job?)

Anyway, I can't wait to hear what he has to say when he contacts me...whenever that is...

Let us turn our attention to another mystery:

How can cute little 9 year old girls be so mean???

Today, Delaney came home and told me that one of her friends was crying because two other girls were completely ignoring her. They didn't want her to play with them anymore so they acted like she wasn't there even though she was talking to them and trying to join in the game that they were playing.

Delaney informed me that she tried to encourage the girl, saying things like, "Maybe you're just not their kind of girl, but me and So-and-so like you." and "I'm sorry they're being mean to you, but at least you aren't that 'Tree-man' guy 'cause not even his family likes him." Such is the comfort of a 9 year old girl dealing with catty girl stuff, sweet but somewhat tactless.

(The 'Tree-man' is an Indonesian guy who is suffering from a shockingly bad case of HPV which is causing his hands and feet to form huge warts which resemble tree roots. )

So, in all seriousness, please say a prayer for Delaney's pal and an even more heartfelt one for the devastated man mentioned above.

Discussing Elephants

Alright, alright, so the creature from my last post is not really our new dog. In fact, I'm not sure it's really a dog at all--a deep-fried rat, perhaps? (Can you imagine what it's breath must smell like? Ugh...) However, that picture makes me laugh every time I see it, so I had to concoct some reason to post it, ridiculous or otherwise.

On to more serious matters...

I crave honesty.

Not complete honesty on all subjects. Things such as wearing mascara, telling a child that her drawing of a goat (uh...horse?) is "lovely" and asinine tales of recent pet adoptions are all perfectly acceptable examples of "dishonesty" in my opinion. However, if I'm having a conversation with a fellow human being, I want to have confidence in the genuineness of the exchange. Otherwise, it's a waste of time and vocal cord vibrations.

Throughout my life, my attempts at discussing whatever elephant was presently in the room have had varied results. I've been misunderstood, accused of complaining and of being rude. Other times, my relationships with people were deepened and a greater level of understanding and respect was established. I'll risk the former to reap the latter.

With this in mind, I offer you my take on a couple of subjects. I'll refer to them as "Apparent Myths". These are things that some people would rather not talk about although we all may spend plenty of time thinking about them. I'll start with one that is unlikely to offend.


Apparent Myth # 1: Because of my mindful obedience to God, He is indebted to me.

Now, just reading that, most Christians will say, "Duh. That's clearly a myth. Thanks for pointing out the totally obvious." However, a truth that we can easily recognize on a shallow level is not necessarily regarded as such in the depths of our psyches.

Let me illustrate--I used to look at families around me who were struggling with one or more of their children and I'd immediately comfort myself with thoughts like, "Well, the parents must not _____ or _______. If they'd just ______, then things would be better. That won't happen with us because Jeff and I are committed to _______." Through living life a little longer, I can no longer comfort myself with such thoughts.

In the past decade or so, I've witnessed a lot of families who did everything "right" and some of their offspring still have gotten into some serious trouble. People who I respect deeply for their own devotion to God and for the wise choices they've made are left weeping, wondering, "What did I do wrong?"

There's the myth. We assume that if we've done everything as we ought to, then our kids will grow up to love, honor, and serve God. That's an excellent desire to have--a noble desire to have, yet God will not violate our children's free will in order to reward us for our own behavior.

I now realize that one or both of my kids could end up: divorced, on drugs, as an unwed parent, as a nominal Christian or even an atheist. (There are more options, but I have a hard time seeing to type while cringing so tightly.)

Neither of them is presently doing anything to make me think the above scenarios are likely, and Jeff and I will do every right thing in our power to keep them from happening, but reality is that, ultimately, kids grow up and make their own decisions for their own lives.

So am I dissing Proverbs 22:6, "Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it."? No. That verse very often proves true. Keep in mind that Proverbs are sayings which are born out of the observations of wise people. They are generally true, but they aren't on the same level as the promises of God which are always true. For example, "He who finds a wife finds a good thing..." (Proverbs 18:22) is not always true. Nor is, "Poverty and shame will come to him who disdains correction..." 13:18, (just look at today's gangsta rappers).

Some kids who grow up in a loving, two parent home where their physical, emotional and mental needs are met and who are consistently and justly corrected, still sin--sometimes in big, life-wrecking ways. Am I suggesting that parenting is pointless, that we shouldn't daily aim to meet our children's needs and we needn't bother disciplining them consistently and justly? Of course not. I simply want to expose the fallaciousness of the myth, "Because of my mindful obedience to God, He is indebted to me."

This myth rears its head in lots of areas in our lives (not just in regards to the similarly DNA-ed people whom we love the most in the world). When we recognize the inaccuracy of it, there is a sense of freedom. Our service to God is less about us trying to control everything "just so" or trying to get brownie points from God to get a desired effect. It becomes more about simply knowing that God is worthy of our obedience regardless of the outcome. It alleviates our anxiety, reminding us that God's love for us is truly based on grace, not on our performance and that regardless of the horrors that await us in life, He will always be there--not because He's obligated to be, but because He wants to be.

Comments, agreements, dissensions???

There are at least two more apparent myths simmering in the back of my brain, but I'm done for now.

Aimee

Now Taking Suggestions...

Help us pick a name for our new dog!

I've included a picture to inspire some creativity:








(Be nice.)

Bunco De"bunc"ed

Last night, my neighbor, Molly, called and asked if I'd like join her and her friends for a game of Bunco. I've heard Bunco mentioned by various people over the past few years but never had the privilege of witnessing the phenomenon in person. Snickering at the silly name was the extent of my experience.

Wanting to impress Molly's friends with my "natural" Bunco abilities, I (of course) googled the funny phrase "Bunco for Beginners" to plot my strategies and obtain tips from the pros. My research came to an abrupt halt as I read on Wikipedia that Bunco is "a social dice game involving 100% luck and no skill." Sounds easy enough!

Molly advised me to bring $5 and a goofy "prize" for the biggest loser like a lottery ticket, a one dollar bill or some unwanted laying-around-the-house item. I eyed the fruit bowl, but the bananas were well on their way to "banana bread" status, so I reached into the pantry and grabbed an unopened bottle of Ranch dressing.

Moments later, I felt quite stupid walking into Molly's house (which was full of about 10 women who were strangers to me) clutching my pathetic offering. Oh well. Life is full of such moments, right? (Well, at least mine is.)

Soon enough, the few rules had been explained to me and the dice were flying. "No skill"? Truer words were never typed by a Wikipedian. Bunco makes Bingo seem complex and Uno seem positively mind-boggling. Anyone with two fingers and an opposable thumb can play. But hey, it was a lot more fun than the last rear-numbing-lax-lower-lip-dripping-with-drool game of chess I tolerated. (Who wants to have to think while munching on Fiddle-Faddle?)

And...my bottle of Ranch was proclaimed the best "prize" of all!

Short But Sweet

Well, we finally got the call tonight. Tobias is a sailor and Delaney is a chorus member. I think they're going to have a lot of fun. I just hope they can get their homework done in addition to learning all the songs and memorizing lines and choreography. Hmmm...I wonder if we'll ever be willing to do this again. :)

A Bowl of Borrowed Brains

Okay, so apparently sleep is not on my agenda tonight even though I've given it every opportunity to overtake me.

I wrote the following poem last July as I pondered the truth of Job 1:21. Read it aloud to hear the flow.

A bowl of borrowed brains He set
To balance on this chin--
It governs all the on loan parts
Ensheathed within this skin

Though I call mine this spine, these knees,
This gut that churns sustain-
I will retain not these nor those--
Such temporary gain!

This throat, these toes, this packed ribcage,
Are my dole at this time--
They course with health, though dusty with
Their future dredge of lime

Beholding eyes, a tasting tongue,
A nostril set and ears-
Such to the head were granted--still,
Disintegration nears

The aqueducts of blood and bile,
I neither sketched nor built,
Nor strung the knotty net of nerves
And cords that screech or lilt

Each ovum dropping from its nest
And ev'ry fill of lung,
Tick seconds off as I descend
Another ladder rung

This fleshy ecosystem is
In constant ordered flux--
Each cell's renewal ceasing is
The ev'ry mortal's crux

The Past 48 Hours

Sunday:

Yesterday morning, we attended a church service at Kingsfield. It was great, from the worship and message to the catching up with old friends and marveling over the new sign. (It looks good, guys.)


Afterward, we drove to the beach even though it was rather cold. We explored the tidepools, fed sea anemones, marveled over huge sea stars and somehow stepped in tar. Poor Delaney didn't know what the black stuff on her feet was so she started scratching it off with her fingernails which didn't turn out too well. After the beach, we made a bee line to the nearest hardware store and bought some "Goof Off" which should actually be renamed "A Product that Will Greatly Improve the Quality of Your Day". It worked so great that we didn't even mind the smell.

The best part of the trip to the beach was when the life guard pointed out a pod of dolphins to us that were playing just off shore. They were within thirty feet of the sand, riding the waves in and causing quite an uproar amongst all of the overjoyed humans. That was definitely the coolest thing any of us has ever seen at the beach. See the fin below?


On the way home, we stopped at a Mexican restaurant that one of our friends had raved about. The food was really, really good, but rather expensive. The most annoying part was noticing that not only did Tobias' drink cost four dollars, but they charged for his refill! That's eight dollars of lemonade! Don't you hate it when the server sweetly asks if you want a refill but fails to mention it's going to cost you? I think they should be required by law to inform you before you answer. They could at least wear a cheesy saucer-sized button that says, "Sip With Caution Unless You're Rich " (I realize that I could be proactive and actually ask if they charge for refills, but I feel like such a cheap loser doing so.)

All in all, it was a pretty good day.


Monday:

I end this day asking myself, "What have I done?"

You see, last Friday, I took Delaney to see the community production of "Annie". (Naturally, Tobias had no interest in seeing a musical about a bunch of girls.) As you may have already guessed, Delaney is now longing to be in the next musical that will be put on by this same theatrical group.

Tonight, was audition night for "The Little Mermaid". Now I must tell you that I really don't like TLM. The "heroine", Ariel, sells her voice to an evil witch (about whom her father warned her) so that she can try to get some guy (to whom she has never even spoken) to fall in "love" with her. What kind of role modeling is that? The only way I would actually enjoy the story of TLM is if things didn't work out for her in the end, like if she never got her voice back, or the prince realized that she's not such a good catch because of her poor decision making skills. Now that would be an instructive lesson for little girls everywhere! Dull perhaps, but instructive nonetheless. (Can't they do a production about Mulan who bravely puts her own life on the line in order to save her family and friends? Now there's a role model.)

Anyway, I'll climb off my soapbox and admit that I must not be too morally indignant because tonight I waited for over two hours in a very loud room full of overly dramatic little girls and a hand full of boys so that Delaney could try out to be a part of this production (that will tear at the very fabric of our society).

Because she is preparing to play the (equally worrisome) role of "saloon girl #1" in a school musical production, she had a song ready to use in her audition.

Some miracle occurred while we were there because Tobias suddenly announced that he'd like to try out, too. Last Fall, he saw a couple of his friends in "Fiddler on the Roof" and I guess he thought it looked like fun. When he saw that "sailors" were on the cast list, he realized that not everyone in the play has to wear sequins and sing soprano.

So, we spent the next little while figuring out what song he should sing for his audition. A shocking discovery was made: the only song that our son knows all the words to is Happy Birthday which is comprised of a scant 6 words. What is up with that? (Perhaps I am a negligent mother.)

I hurriedly taught him all the words to Jingle Bells (a song sure to impress) and he went to the car to practice.

The best part of the evening was helping Tobias fill out his application. To the question "What are your talents and hobbies?" he wrote "I once built a tazer out of a disposable camera; I can talk in my sleep; I started shaving at the age of twelve and I have a fabulous sense of humor." The director is either going to love him or think he's a mentally challenged kid who has good spelling and grammatical skills.

After seeing the rehearsal schedule, I'm shaking in my proverbial boots. Six hours a week for the next seven weeks?!?! What about homework, music lessons and sleep? I want my kids to have a fun experience, but I also want to be able to function. If the kids are awarded parts, this may be my last post for a long time.

We'll know by Friday what our futures hold...

Ya Snooze, Ya Lose...

We waited too long. We're supposed to request for vacation time off from Jeff's job a bit earlier, apparently.

We waited because we wanted to find out when the kids' summer camp dates would be so that they could be a part of that, too. Well, now the only weeks available to Jeff for time off are in June...when the kids are still in school.

So, the kids will be missing the last week of school because we are NOT missing vacation.

Every year, I plan a surprise summer vacation for the family. They know we are going somewhere and they know when we're going, but they don't know where, what, who or how. It's fun.

This year, I've got all sorts of plans I'm excited about, but since no one else in this house can know the details, I just have to stifle my giggles and be constantly ready to X out of whatever website I might be looking at that could reveal too much.

Sorry that I can't divulge this year's mysterious destination, but the only person who I'm certain actually reads this blog is Jeff. :)

He's My Favorite Bag of Tricks

As I sit here on the eve of my 15th wedding anniversary, I am struck by the realization that the man I'm married to is truly one of a kind.

I know no one else who spends hours designing, carving and inking to make completely original prints on t-shirts and hoodies. My husband CREATED the following items!


Isn't that amazing?

What other 36 year old excitedly purchases a 15 year old BMX bike from a neighbor, declaring, "I've always wanted one of these!"? He happily and thoughtfully chose new grips and a new seat to replace the old cracked ones. (Good thing it wasn't a '67 Camaro that caught his eye in the neighbor's garage.)


Who else surprises his wife with a gorgeous brand new guitar by stuffing it into her gig bag so she'll find it the next time she goes to practice on her old ugly one?

Not only is he unique, fun and thoughtful...he's also dedicated and devoted.

Dedicated to our family, he rises before 5:00 am several days a week so he can go spend hours and hours at a job he genuinely dislikes.

Devoted to God, he seeks Him and His agenda on a daily basis.

I feel so safe with Jeff, both emotionally, mentally and physically. He listens to me, advises me, and I know he would do everything he could to protect me and the kids even if he knew he'd die in the process.

I love you, Jeff. Here's to another 50+ years of you and me.

Forgive me for looking smug. I'm simply pleased with my present situation...

Why Didn't Any Of You Tell Me?

You could have sent me an anonymous letter or staged an intervention or something! I never knew, but apparently...

...I am a negligent mother.

This came as quite a surprise to me, but the guy on the radio said so...

Annoying mother? Sure. Bossy mother? Most definitely! But negligent? Sorry, fella but I'm quite confident that that doesn't describe me.

I was listening to the local Christian radio station and some guy was being interviewed. He was adamantly declaring to all parents that we need to do a specific thing in our children's lives because it is our God-given obligation. I won't reveal what the "obligation" was since that's not my point.

My point is that what he was declaring as so important is something that God's Spirit neglected to make a single reference to in scripture. If it was really so vital, wouldn't God have inspired someone to mention it at least once?

We all have our own ideas and opinions which makes for interesting dialog among friends, but when we elevate those to being the Truth, then we can do some serious damage to the Body of Christ.

It's divisive and self-promoting. We begin to consider ourselves superior, quietly so, because we belong to the group that won't let our kids wear purple or let them drink orange juice for dinner. (Sorry, I had to pick stupid examples in order to not alienate any one.)

I've been guilty of this in the past and I'm sure I'll fail again, but I think it helps if we're aware of it.

When Tobias was born, sleep deprivation and a hormonal riot joined forces to almost send me to the nut house. A friend of mine introduced me to a book on baby scheduling. In my weepy stupor, I read it and immediately began applying the principles. The change that occurred was miraculous. He slept. I slept. I was converted!

I began to think that everyone needed to follow this book's rules. (And I say rules because that is how the guidelines were presented.) I thought that my friends who weren't doing what I was doing were out of God's will. I'm embarrassed to write that now.

Anyway, three and a half years later, Delaney was born. I happily applied the rules and soon discovered that what worked with him was failing dismally with her. She slept when she was supposed to be awake. She wasn't hungry when she was supposed to eat even though I had only tried to feed her when it was the proper time. I was miserable and she was probably longing for the old days in the womb.

I repented of my extraneous conversion and happily "backslid" into laxness.

God has been clear about what is right and wrong. When we try to further justify ourselves based on our own inclinations and musings, we end up being Pharisees.

Elementary School Musical

Delaney's class has been studying the California Gold Rush for the past few weeks. Their studies will culminate in the evening performance of a musical loosely based on the book The Great Horn Spoon.

Imagine my pride and joy when she announced to me the name of the character she'll be playing:

"Mom, I'm 'Saloon Girl #1'!"

"Oh, that's...great, honey."

(Another girl got the part of 'Mail Order Bride'.)

I scanned the script quite carefully and was pleased to see that her character's name was the only thing that caused me to raise an eyebrow.

God bless the Naive...

A Glorious Epiphany

I confess that for years, I felt a sharp pang of guilt every time I heard a reference to Romans 1:16, "For I am not ashamed of the gospel for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes."

I hated the reality, but if I was going to be honest, I had to admit that I couldn't notice that verse without feeling like a hypocrite. Recently, I was pondering that verse and praying, yet again, apologetically.

"Father, I don't want to be ashamed of the gospel..."

The gospel...the gospel...

As I mulled over the gospel, I focused on what the gospel is essentially: Holy God created me; I am a sinner in need of forgiveness; God provided that forgiveness through Christ's death; I recognize that it is only through His efforts that I can be right with Him; I'm now adopted into His family and He helps me to live my life in a way that honors Him, yet His love for me is not based on my own works.

That's when the glorious epiphany hit me: I'm not ashamed of THAT! I'm not ashamed of what Christ did nor am I ashamed of my desperate need for Him. I'm deeply thankful for His sacrifice. I'm anchored and maintained by the preciousness of it.

What I AM ashamed of is:
1) How some people present the gospel
2) The behavior of some people who are associated with the gospel
3) Myself and my own feelings of inadequacy at proclaiming the gospel

I was mistaking my shame over those things for shame over the gospel. The joy I felt at this realization was so genuine. I'm still smiling...

And so it begins...

My son (who shall remain anonymous for fear that this report will come back to bite him) has just received his first phone call from a girl. She called before he got home from school, so I took down her name and number, quelling my instinctive desire to ask her a million questions. He is presently in the tree out front returning the call. I am nobly resisting the urge to disguise myself as a squirrel so that I can eavesdrop. I'm wondering if this "first thing in the morning" picture of Tob...uh, I mean "my son" will silence the phone forever:

When Dreams Die...

One of my dreams died last night. I'm happy to report that it was not a dream which was deeply embedded in my heart. Still, it was a dream. It was this: that my family would learn to enjoy eating fish. We all know the health benefits associated with eating fish, so every few weeks for the past few years, I've bought small portions of fish (what ever is on sale, of course) and served it up for dinner. On the menu has been salmon, tilapia, bass, sheepshead, thrasher shark, swordfish, orange roughy and, most recently, red snapper. Well, the red snapper is what slammed a fat stake into the heart of my fish-eating dream.

Jeff asked what was for dinner as I was banging pots and pans around in the kitchen.

"Broccoli and macaroni and cheese," I answered.

"No meat?" he queried.

"Nope, no meat," I answered, honestly. (Technically, fish is not meat.)

A few minutes later, he incredulously asked, "What is that SMELL?"

I played dumb, but it only lasted for a few seconds because he figured it out. "We're having FISH, aren't we?"

I nodded, flashing him a hopeful smile.

A few minutes later, I had dinner on the table and had called the kids in, bracing myself for the imminent moans and groans they'd emit once they saw what was on their plates. They did not disappoint me. Over the years, I've heard comments such as, "Aw, sick!" "How much of this do I have to eat?" "Are you ever going to serve this again?" and "Mom, not even Dad likes this." One of the more positive comments has been, "Well, this isn't quite as disgusting as I expected it to be." Hmmm, praise indeed...

Anyway, Tobias has a way of inhaling the least desirable item on his plate first so that he can forget about it as he dines on the rest of his meal. Fortunately, his portion of fish yielded no bones. Jeff's, on the other hand, contained 9 bones (and this was a little 2" by 3" piece of fish!). After realizing how many bones might be in Delaney's piece, I broke it up into little bits and found 3. She still didn't trust it and used her hands to further dismantle her meal. Not a good idea, you'll see why later if you haven't already guessed.

Halfway through our dinner, Jeff announced to me that he didn't care for the new recipe of macaroni and cheese that I had prepared. No wonder he looked so sad as he forked bites of his meal into his mouth. When your favorite part of your dinner is the plain old steamed broccoli (which was a bit over-cooked, by the way), that makes for a depressing dining experience!

Realizing that the hearts of my family held no fondness for red snapper, I cleared the dishes and then washed them as thoroughly as I could, using lots of soap in hopes that no odor had adhered itself permanently onto the atoms of my crockery.

Once the kitchen was clean, the kids and I hopped into the car. I dropped them off at youth group and made my own way to women's bible study, silently wondering if Jeff was getting into the Honda and making his way to Burger King to purge his palate and memory of my most recent culinary concoction.

The dream died as a result of three chronological occurrences.

#1--During dinner, I realized that once again, though I had combed the internet for a 5 star fish recipe and had purchased fresh fish, my family still didn't like it. "How many times will I try this and fail?" I asked myself, pulling a fish bone out of my mouth. The glimmer of my dream began to tarnish as reality was finally setting in.

#2--When I returned from bible study, I opened the door to my house and walked straight into a wall of foul smelling air. This was no fish market, this was my home! Although I had thoroughly cleaned the dishes and all the surfaces that the red snapper had touched, the all-pervasive odor had effectively established a dictatorship over our beloved home and it was unknown how long it's oppressive reign would endure. However, the coup de grace was yet to come...

#3--The death-stroke to "fish for dinner" occurred when my precious little girl told me, "Mom, So-and-So at church smelled me at youth group tonight and said, 'You had fish for dinner, didn't you?'" When your kid starts to get the reputation for being the "Stinky One" at youth group, it is definitely time to end the fish fantasy.

There can be a bit of a relief when a dream dies. Now if only that stench would die with it.