<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791</id><updated>2012-02-16T07:52:25.380-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Erin</title><subtitle type='html'>&lt;i&gt;"I've lost my mind,&lt;br&gt; I'm sure I'll find&lt;br&gt;need to apologize &lt;br&gt;for my lack of inhibition, &lt;br&gt;for my belligerent condition, &lt;br&gt;but with You this near, I'm dizzy..."&lt;br&gt;&lt;br&gt;&lt;/i&gt;--dcb, &lt;i&gt;Intoxicating&lt;/i&gt;</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>192</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-275435292051727119</id><published>2007-04-12T11:20:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-12T11:20:59.402-05:00</updated><title type='text'>You know you're a pathetic cog in the corporate machine when...</title><content type='html'>...the low point in your workday is the realization that they've replaced the bendy straws with regular, straight straws.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. I am Milton.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-275435292051727119?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/275435292051727119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=275435292051727119' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/275435292051727119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/275435292051727119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/04/you-know-youre-pathetic-cog-in.html' title='You know you&apos;re a pathetic cog in the corporate machine when...'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-8620321505662167023</id><published>2007-04-09T22:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-09T22:34:19.147-05:00</updated><title type='text'>keep moving forward</title><content type='html'>So, I'm up way too late on a school night again, and am feeling the need to update. Here, in no particular order, are some update-y-ish items:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weight loss: I've lost 16.1 pounds so far. I'm about halfway to my goal. Yay :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Movies: We saw &lt;em&gt;Meet the Robinsons &lt;/em&gt;on Friday. Very cute movie. I walked away from it with some deep thoughts (surprise, surprise...ISTJ/melancholy me thinking deeply about a freaking Disney movie...). One of the themes of the movie had to do with failure--how you view it, whether you choose to dwell in the past or look ahead and move forward. In one of the scenes, the little orphan boy main character has one of his inventions blow up in his face (something which, incidentally, had happened earlier in the movie and resulted in prospective parents rejecting him as an adoption candidate. Talk about having an event trigger memories of rejection and painful feelings about one's self worth!).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second time this happens, however, the family around him erupts in cheering and applause. I think one of them even says, "You failed!! That's wonderful!!" Being a family of inventors, they had learned from experience that it had taken many failures for them to learn all they needed to learn to finally succeed. And so, from their perspective, failure was a necessary (and even good) part of the whole process. I think I started to tear up during that part, and again at the end when the little orphan boy starts to put the pieces together and see how the "keep moving forward" theme applies to his own little life. His little life that he, at the beginning, views as insignificant, but by the end views very differently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been pondering this quite a bit, as it relates to my own life. My own fears of failure (which have lessened a lot over the past couple years, but are still very much there). My own tendencies to want to quit if something doesn't come easily immediately. My own instincts to run and hide when my weaknesses are displayed for the world to see. I think of Paul, who thanked God for his weaknesses. Who, after decades of painful maturity, finally began to put the pieces together and see his failures as a necessary (and good) part of the whole, wonderful, beautiful process.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I want that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, maybe that's all for tonight. I'm not good at bullet points. They always turn into paragraphs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-8620321505662167023?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/8620321505662167023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=8620321505662167023' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/8620321505662167023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/8620321505662167023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/04/keep-moving-forward.html' title='keep moving forward'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-9063998829183981956</id><published>2007-04-04T20:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-04T20:57:28.312-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Grammar, shmammar</title><content type='html'>So, I just got back from grammar class and my mind is racing like crazy (probably due to the coffee I sucked down before class, in hopes of jolting my sleepy brain. It definitely worked. And then some.). Now I'm just killing time before Lost starts (since I'll apparently have NO trouble staying awake for it tonight).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so fun to be a student again! Tonight as Shannon, DeAnna, and I walked into the building, we marveled at how "it even &lt;em&gt;smells &lt;/em&gt;like college!" Our teacher is a linguist, so by nature she approaches English more as a "botanist" than as a "gardener" (this is how my college grammar teacher described the difference between a linguist/descriptivist and a grammarian/prescriptivist--one notes observations, while the other makes value judgments). I liked that about her. As much as I love rules and grammar snobbery, life keeps teaching me that there are a lot more shades of gray in the world than I'd like to think, and I'm realizing that it's healthy to approach situations this way. Even situations that seem to be very black and white. Grammar. Spirituality. Etc. (Not that I'm a relativist, by any stretch. Seeing the world as &lt;em&gt;only &lt;/em&gt;shades of gray is just as naive, I think.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's about all I have the attention span for tonight. I now need to search through my wedding photos to send some to my brother. This is Derek, the artist. (I have three brothers: the rapper, the father, and the artist. Scott, Brian, and Derek, respectively) He's entering a couple of art fairs this summer and wants to paint one of our wedding. How sweet :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, gators.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-9063998829183981956?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/9063998829183981956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=9063998829183981956' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/9063998829183981956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/9063998829183981956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/04/grammar-shmammar.html' title='Grammar, shmammar'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-502854719418169789</id><published>2007-04-03T11:40:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-04-03T12:54:53.031-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"What I thought I wanted...</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;...what I got instead&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;leaves me broken&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;yet grateful." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;- Sara Groves&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember posting about this song a few months ago, during the whole cubicle-to-pod transition, when I was struggling with unmet expectations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now here I am--months later, different situation(s)--and the struggle continues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once upon a time, my friend Martha told me, "Sometimes we don't even realize we have expectations until they aren't met and we end up disappointed or frustrated and can't figure out why."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, I didn't realize I was missing my dad until he reappeared and I found myself feeling sad and frustrated with him for not being what I wish he could be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What I thought I wanted...what I got instead...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I didn't even &lt;em&gt;know &lt;/em&gt;I wanted, until I got something else instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So where do I go with this? My heart has been feeling pretty broken, but how do you get to the "grateful" part?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know, exactly. Still trying to figure that out. However, even in the midst of looking for answers, God has been gently nudging me back to a truth he's already shown me a hundred different times through a hundred different situations...the truth that only he can meet my needs...that only he can love me perfectly...and the truth that, if I'll throw my chips in and let him prove that to me, I won't be disappointed...and, ironically, my relationships with people will be even more enjoyable and more satisfying than they could ever be when I'm pushing and pulling and demanding and whining.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's something about this that brings an indescribable sense of relief. And yeah, I guess gratitude.&lt;br /&gt;-------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;On a completely unrelated note...I tried a new tea today--Tazo sweet cinnamon and spice (or something like that). Ick. Stay away. It sounds good, but don't be fooled, unless your favorite type of tea is nas-tea. &lt;img src="http://x.myspace.com/images/blog/smileys/annoyed.gif" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-502854719418169789?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/502854719418169789/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=502854719418169789' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/502854719418169789'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/502854719418169789'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/04/what-i-thought-i-wanted.html' title='&quot;What I thought I wanted...'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-2346419718398295687</id><published>2007-03-30T23:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-31T13:57:55.598-05:00</updated><title type='text'>song in my head (warning: explicit lyrics)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I must admit, I have no idea what this song is supposed to mean, but it's been playing nonstop in my car these days. The chorus seems to express so much of what I've been feeling lately, in many different situations. If the f-word offends you, I apologize. However, even that part has seemed appropriate lately in a few situations. Sorry my thoughts are so scattered, but here you go.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole&lt;/u&gt; (by Martha Wainwright)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Poetry is no place for a heart that's a whore&lt;br /&gt;And I'm young &amp;amp; I'm strong&lt;br /&gt;But I feel old and tired&lt;br /&gt;Overfired&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I've been poked and stoked&lt;br /&gt;It's all smoke, there's no more fire&lt;br /&gt;Only desire&lt;br /&gt;For you, whoever you are&lt;br /&gt;For you, whoever you are&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You say my time here has been some sort of joke&lt;br /&gt;That I've been messing around&lt;br /&gt;Some sort of incubating period&lt;br /&gt;For when I really come around&lt;br /&gt;I'm cracking up&lt;br /&gt;And you have no idea&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No idea how it feels to be on your own&lt;br /&gt;In your own home&lt;br /&gt;with the fucking phone&lt;br /&gt;And the mother of gloom&lt;br /&gt;In your bedroom&lt;br /&gt;Standing over your head&lt;br /&gt;With her hand in your head&lt;br /&gt;With her hand in your head&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I will not pretend&lt;br /&gt;I will not put on a smile&lt;br /&gt;I will not say I'm all right for you&lt;br /&gt;When all I wanted was to be good&lt;br /&gt;To do everything in truth&lt;br /&gt;To do everything in truth&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh I wish I wish I wish I was born a man&lt;br /&gt;So I could learn how to stand up for myself&lt;br /&gt;Like those guys with guitars&lt;br /&gt;I've been watching in bars&lt;br /&gt;Who've been stamping their feet to a different beat&lt;br /&gt;To a different beat&lt;br /&gt;To a different beat&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I will not pretend&lt;br /&gt;I will not put on a smile&lt;br /&gt;I will not say I'm all right for you&lt;br /&gt;When all I wanted was to be good&lt;br /&gt;To do everything in truth&lt;br /&gt;To do everything in truth&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You bloody mother fucking asshole&lt;br /&gt;Oh you bloody mother fucking asshole&lt;br /&gt;Oh you bloody mother fucking asshole&lt;br /&gt;Oh you bloody mother fucking asshole&lt;br /&gt;Oh you bloody mother fucking asshole&lt;br /&gt;Oh you bloody...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I will not pretend&lt;br /&gt;I will not put on a smile&lt;br /&gt;I will not say I'm all right for you&lt;br /&gt;For you, whoever you are&lt;br /&gt;For you, whoever you are&lt;br /&gt;For you, whoever you are&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-2346419718398295687?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/2346419718398295687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=2346419718398295687' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/2346419718398295687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/2346419718398295687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/03/song-in-my-head-warning-explicit-lyrics.html' title='song in my head (warning: explicit lyrics)'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-2391308083168118831</id><published>2007-03-30T23:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-30T23:31:11.984-05:00</updated><title type='text'>daddy/daughter stuff</title><content type='html'>talked to my dad for the first time in 18 (19?) years&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1988&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much has changed since then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;never anticipated so much would feel the same&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;never anticipated feeling...anything&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;especially this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;still processing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;need to sleep on it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-2391308083168118831?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/2391308083168118831/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=2391308083168118831' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/2391308083168118831'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/2391308083168118831'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/03/daddydaughter-stuff.html' title='daddy/daughter stuff'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-3896958398676950594</id><published>2007-03-20T14:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-20T14:56:21.729-05:00</updated><title type='text'>word game</title><content type='html'>Try &lt;a href="http://shygypsy.com/az"&gt;this game&lt;/a&gt;, if you dare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got stuck on the 9th one. If you get past it, let me know. I think I need a hint.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-3896958398676950594?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/3896958398676950594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=3896958398676950594' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/3896958398676950594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/3896958398676950594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/03/word-game.html' title='word game'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-1550521615068262968</id><published>2007-03-16T15:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-16T16:05:47.084-05:00</updated><title type='text'>midwest weather, new (old) clothes, and little babies</title><content type='html'>(You can call me "Charlie Dodrill blogger wannabe"--CDBW for short)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Um, so on Wednesday I was running outside at the park (temp was in the 70s), then Thursday and today it's snowing. I just love Ohio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a completely unrelated note...This weight loss thing has been such an emotional roller coaster. Last week I weighed in and hadn't lost anything (hadn't gained, either, but who looks at the glass half full? Certainly not me.), which sent me into a pretty deep funk that lasted until I weighed in yesterday and discovered I was 3.6 lbs lighter. What? Now I'm skipping and smiling. I bought a new pair of work pants yesterday, and had to get a size smaller than I was expecting (two sizes smaller than what I had been wearing), which just made me feel even giddier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now today, on a whim, I went to my closet and tried on some old jeans (which I've been trying on periodically throughout the past couple months, each time only to be disappointed to discover I couldn't even get them past my hips), and lo and behold, they fit! And not even in a suck-in-your-gut-and-don't-breathe-while-they're-buttoned way, but in a legitimate, wearable way! I'm positively elated. I don't understand how something as temporal and external as this can affect my mood so much, but I'm not going to spend too much time pondering that one. Today is a happy day. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, Craig and I are driving up to Toledo to see my family. Okay, well, we're &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; driving up to see the new nephew, but getting to see other family is a bonus. Noah is home at last (they brought him home last Saturday). Now if only I can get my butt (my now much smaller butt) in gear and finish sewing his curtains before we leave...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, anyway. Enough blogging for now--I have curtains to finish.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-1550521615068262968?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/1550521615068262968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=1550521615068262968' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/1550521615068262968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/1550521615068262968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/03/midwest-weather-new-old-clothes-and.html' title='midwest weather, new (old) clothes, and little babies'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-1145749876445301259</id><published>2007-03-15T15:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-15T15:29:00.581-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the blue ribbon</title><content type='html'>Guess who has lost 12 pounds? Me. Oh yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got the 10-lb-loser ribbon today. Ribbons make me happy :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-1145749876445301259?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/1145749876445301259/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=1145749876445301259' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/1145749876445301259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/1145749876445301259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/03/blue-ribbon.html' title='the blue ribbon'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-2415197146164887817</id><published>2007-03-11T22:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-11T22:17:11.739-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Are you stupid?</title><content type='html'>I just logged into myspace, and the random ad that popped up said something to the effect of: "Are you stupid? Click here to take the quiz!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think they officially have a quiz for everything. God bless America.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-2415197146164887817?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/2415197146164887817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=2415197146164887817' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/2415197146164887817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/2415197146164887817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/03/are-you-stupid.html' title='Are you stupid?'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-302381032408309235</id><published>2007-03-08T21:30:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-08T21:58:10.826-05:00</updated><title type='text'>baby picture, random deep thoughts, new shoes</title><content type='html'>(How do you like my Charlie Dodrill-esque blog title, eh?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry for taking so long to deliver the promised picture, but here is my beautiful little nephew:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pbtXfsCz9eY/RfDHmZCLG3I/AAAAAAAAAAU/Cq2eiuHurC8/s1600-h/P1060047.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039747445396544370" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pbtXfsCz9eY/RfDHmZCLG3I/AAAAAAAAAAU/Cq2eiuHurC8/s200/P1060047.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His first week in the world has been kind of rough, but all things considered, he's doing pretty well. His blood sugar has been low, so he's had to endure IVs and a feeding tube, but he's now eating on his own pretty well, and he'll probably get to go home this weekend. Kudos to Brian and Sam. For being so young, they've been taking everything in stride, more or less, and I think they're going to be great parents. (Have I mentioned that I'm freaking proud of my baby brother?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other news, here's some random stuff:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Headaches suck. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes I have to learn the same lesson all over again, even after I think I've "arrived."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Other people have a lot more to teach me than I give them credit for.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Regardless of how many things demand my attention in a given day, regardless of the feelings of urgency they can spark in me, there are very few things that really (really) matter in the long term and in the big picture.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;New shoes are awesome. Especially when you get a good deal on them. Free ones would be pretty sweet too, but I'll settle for a good deal (like when the online store accidentally gives you the shoes for free, but your wonderful work friends help you see the light and encourage you to do the right thing and pay for them. Sigh.). What's that proverb? Better to get a good deal on shoes and sleep peacefully than to steal them and have no rest? No, wait, I just made that up. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Okay, this is long enough. Now I have to go watch last week's Desperate Housewives that I missed and go to bed. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-302381032408309235?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/302381032408309235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=302381032408309235' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/302381032408309235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/302381032408309235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/03/baby-picture-random-deep-thoughts-new.html' title='baby picture, random deep thoughts, new shoes'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_pbtXfsCz9eY/RfDHmZCLG3I/AAAAAAAAAAU/Cq2eiuHurC8/s72-c/P1060047.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-8873425018499590293</id><published>2007-03-02T18:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-03-02T18:51:05.095-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Baby Noah is almost here!</title><content type='html'>Sam's in labor! My little nephew will be here any time now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I just talked to Brian, and he sounds amazingly go-with-the flow about being a dad any minute now. He's grown up so much. I'm so proud of my baby brother. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm heading up there sometime Sunday. Expect a full report and lots of cute pictures when I return.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-8873425018499590293?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/8873425018499590293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=8873425018499590293' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/8873425018499590293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/8873425018499590293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/03/baby-noah-is-almost-here.html' title='Baby Noah is almost here!'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-3382449454432654888</id><published>2007-02-28T17:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-28T19:14:11.341-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The tomb of J...whose?</title><content type='html'>(That was my silly little attempt at a play on words. I'm sorry, I'm no Libby.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like to get into debates or any kind of controversy, really. In fact, I pretty much like to steer clear of anything uncomfortable or divisive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This, however, is just a little important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems that some Hollywood people (that's right, not scientists) are making a documentary about these tombs that they say contain the remains of Jesus (along with Mary Magdalene and a kid they allegedly had together).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's &lt;em&gt;The DaVinci Code&lt;/em&gt; meets James Cameron meets some skeptical archaeologists.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some facts to consider if you're tempted to buy into this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This is not a recent discovery. These tombs were discovered in 1980, which means this news is as old as I am. To watch the news, you'd think this happened yesterday and is a groundbreaking discovery. If the scientists didn't draw these conclusions 26 years ago, one should wonder why it took a millionaire producer and his director to connect the dots now.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The archaeologist who originally uncovered the tombs is disputing the conclusions the Hollywood people are drawing from his findings. He says that the claims of James Cameron and the makers of this new documentary (that these are the remains of Jesus) "are unfounded." The names on the tombs were quite common at the time.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;The makers of the documentary claim that they have "DNA evidence" linking these remains to Jesus Christ. However, it remains unclear what secondary DNA source (besides the bones in the tomb) they are using to make the connection. (As far as I know, there aren't any 2000-year-old blood samples labeled "Jesus of Nazareth" that they can use as a reference point.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;I could keep going, but I won't. The point is, this documentary is more about sensationalism and making money than it is about looking honestly and impartially at the facts and drawing a logical conclusion. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This whole thing is making the news because it claims to be evidence that Jesus didn't raise from the dead. Does that matter? Yeah, it does. (I could go into all the lines of evidence and reasoning that support Christ's bodily resurrection, but that's another blog for another day.)&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I know how much easier it is to be spoon-fed what to believe, but it's worth it to do your homework before swallowing this crap for breakfast.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;In conclusion, here's my favorite quote from a CNN.com article: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"The fact that [the 1980 archaeological finding] has been ignored tells you something," said Dever, professor emeritus at the University of Arizona. "It would be amusing if it didn't mislead so many people."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-3382449454432654888?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/3382449454432654888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=3382449454432654888' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/3382449454432654888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/3382449454432654888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/02/tomb-of-jwhose.html' title='The tomb of J...whose?'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-5314150422950558237</id><published>2007-02-24T19:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-24T19:36:15.683-05:00</updated><title type='text'>listen</title><content type='html'>If the video won't work for you, you can go to &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/grammarerin"&gt;my myspace profile &lt;/a&gt;and listen to it there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-5314150422950558237?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/5314150422950558237/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=5314150422950558237' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/5314150422950558237'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/5314150422950558237'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/02/listen.html' title='listen'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-8458093640871586527</id><published>2007-02-24T16:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-24T16:41:58.227-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Reasons Why</title><content type='html'>I've been listening to this song a lot lately. It seems to echo some of my recent experiences, as well as those of some friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny how we can be going along, thinking everything's fine, and then all of a sudden wake up one day and think, "Whoa! How'd I get &lt;em&gt;here? &lt;/em&gt;This is not where I want to be."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've all been there. But I think it's one thing to come to that realization, and an entirely different thing to come to that realization and then make excuses to stay there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I've done that, too. I'm trying to get back to where I want to be, but I can so relate to the self-deceived apathy in this song. (And if the grammar problem of the title bothers you, it bothered me too at first. You'll get over it, too.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I'm not sure if the video thing is going to work or not, but regardless, I put the lyrics underneath.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div id="mvci1" style="FONT-SIZE: 11px; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; WIDTH: 340px; PADDING-TOP: 2px; FONT-FAMILY: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;a style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-SIZE: 10px; TEXT-DECORATION: underline" href="http://www.mvcodes.biz/artist_Nickel_Creek.html" target="_blank"&gt;Nickel Creek Music Video Codes&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed name="RAOCXplayer" pluginspage="http://www.microsoft.com/Windows/Downloads/Contents/Products/MediaPlayer/" src="http://75.126.19.45/asx.php?id=" width="340" height="300" type="application/x-mplayer2" autoplay="true" showcontrols="1" showstatusbar="0" autosize="true" loop="true" enablecontextmenu="0"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div id="mvci2" style="FONT-SIZE: 10px; PADDING-BOTTOM: 3px; WIDTH: 340px; PADDING-TOP: 2px; FONT-FAMILY: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; TEXT-ALIGN: center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now Playing: &lt;a style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-SIZE: 10px; TEXT-DECORATION: underline" href="http://www.mvcodes.biz/artist_Nickel_Creek.html" target="_blank"&gt;Nickel Creek&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold; FONT-SIZE: 10px; TEXT-DECORATION: underline" href="http://www.mvcodes.biz/song_19128_Nickel_Creek-Reasons_Why.html" target="_blank"&gt;Reasons Why&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brought you by: &lt;a style="FONT-WEIGHT: normal; FONT-FAMILY: Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; TEXT-DECORATION: underline" href="http://www.mcodes.info" target="_self"&gt;Music Codes&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Where am I today? I wish that I knew&lt;br /&gt;'Cause looking around there's no sign of you&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember one jump or one leap&lt;br /&gt;Just quiet steps away from your lead&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm holding my heart out but clutching it too&lt;br /&gt;Feeling this short of a love that we once knew&lt;br /&gt;I'm calling this home when it's not even close&lt;br /&gt;Playing the role with nerves left exposed&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Standing on a darkened stage, stumbling through the lines&lt;br /&gt;Others have excuses, but I have my reasons why&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get distracted by dreams of our own&lt;br /&gt;But nobody's happy while feeling alone&lt;br /&gt;And knowing how hard it hurts when we fall&lt;br /&gt;We lean another ladder against the wrong wall&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And climb high to the highest rung, to shake fists at the sky&lt;br /&gt;While others have excuses, I have my reasons why&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Bridge:]&lt;br /&gt;With so much deception it's hard not to wander away&lt;br /&gt;It's hard not to wander away&lt;br /&gt;It's hard not to wander away &lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-8458093640871586527?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/8458093640871586527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=8458093640871586527' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/8458093640871586527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/8458093640871586527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/02/reasons-why.html' title='Reasons Why'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-2626986716025526060</id><published>2007-02-17T13:04:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-17T13:05:39.835-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Progress</title><content type='html'>6.5 pounds in three weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can once again fit into some clothes that had become obscenely unwearable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's working, and I'm happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-2626986716025526060?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/2626986716025526060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=2626986716025526060' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/2626986716025526060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/2626986716025526060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/02/progress.html' title='Progress'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-5890431768614757035</id><published>2007-02-12T23:38:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-12T23:38:31.438-05:00</updated><title type='text'>faithful (adjective)</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Main Entry: &lt;strong&gt;faith·ful &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="..popWin(" wav="faithful')"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Function: &lt;em&gt;adjective&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Date: 14th century&lt;br /&gt;1 obsolete : full of &lt;a href="http://unabridged.merriam-webster.com/cgi-bin/collegiate-tb?book=Dictionary&amp;va=faith"&gt;faith&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 : steadfast in affection or allegiance : &lt;a href="http://unabridged.merriam-webster.com/cgi-bin/collegiate-tb?book=Dictionary&amp;amp;va=loyal"&gt;LOYAL&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3 : firm in adherence to promises or in observance of duty : &lt;a href="http://unabridged.merriam-webster.com/cgi-bin/collegiate-tb?book=Dictionary&amp;va=conscientious"&gt;CONSCIENTIOUS&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4 : given with strong assurance : &lt;a href="http://unabridged.merriam-webster.com/cgi-bin/collegiate-tb?book=Dictionary&amp;amp;va=binding"&gt;BINDING&lt;/a&gt; [a faithful promise]&lt;br /&gt;5 : true to the facts, to a standard, or to an original [a faithful copy] &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;So I'm learning a lot lately about what this means. Hanging in there. Sticking it out. With friends, with work. In the relationship arena, it's teaching me a lot about God and what he's like. What it looks like when he is faithful. When he hangs in there and sticks it out. With me. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;I reread this recently. This story has stuck in my brain and forever seared a visual there--a picture of faithfulness. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;"My publisher told me the story of a summer afternoon when he was driving along the New Jersey Turnpike. One hundred yards ahead in the same lane was a Lincoln Town Car. Tom was shocked when he saw the right rear door of the Lincoln, still moving at full speed, swing open. The passenger threw a collie onto the pavement. The dog hit the concrete and rolled into a ditch. Bleeding profusely, the collie got up and started to run after the car and the owner who had cruelly abandoned him. His relentless faithfulness was not conditioned or diminished by the abuse and callous disregard of his master. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;The dogged fidelity of Jesus in the face of our indifference to his affection and our ingratitude for his faithfulness...is a mystery of such mind-bending magnitude that the intellect buckles and theology bows in its presence. Humbly acknowledging our limitations, we are driven to the fervent prayer, 'Lord, I do believe! Help my lack of trust.'"&lt;/em&gt; (Brennan Manning, &lt;u&gt;Ruthless Trust)&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;That's crazy. Insane, even. Who would suffer that kind of treatment and remain loyal? No one with half a brain. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Still, that's who God is. Sometimes I think he's crazy, but I'm grateful. And somehow, it makes me want to do the same. To love people the same way. In a crazy, stupid way. Because it's kind of beautiful, but also because I almost feel like I have no other choice. I mean, I do, but I sometimes feel so grateful it's like I can't &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; try (in my ridiculous, fumbling attempts) to give it away. So yeah, I'm learning a little more what it looks like, and feeling more compelled.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-5890431768614757035?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/5890431768614757035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=5890431768614757035' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/5890431768614757035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/5890431768614757035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/02/faithful-adjective_12.html' title='faithful (adjective)'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-4411016755634997638</id><published>2007-02-12T23:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-12T23:06:00.322-05:00</updated><title type='text'>ack, blogger has forced me to upgrade</title><content type='html'>So fine. They made me upgrade. They'd better not make me regret it. (I like "old" blogger!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-4411016755634997638?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/4411016755634997638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=4411016755634997638' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/4411016755634997638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/4411016755634997638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/02/ack-blogger-has-forced-me-to-upgrade.html' title='ack, blogger has forced me to upgrade'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-117073553555226064</id><published>2007-02-05T23:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-05T23:18:55.570-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ew</title><content type='html'>Being sick is awful. I thought I was doing so well about being healthy--eating well, exercising, cutting out unhealthy habits--and yet, my stomach is very angry with me today. I got sick at work this morning (and I don't just mean feeling sick at work...I mean &lt;em&gt;getting sick...&lt;/em&gt;possibly one of the most disgusting experiences of my life).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So right now I'm drinking some sleepytime tea and trying to go to bed so I'll feel better for tomorrow. Beth is coming to town, and we have plans, and no sickness is going to get in the way, darnit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and sidenote--does anyone know where I can find edamame at the grocery store? Is it just with the produce, or is it someplace special?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-117073553555226064?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/117073553555226064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=117073553555226064' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/117073553555226064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/117073553555226064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/02/ew.html' title='Ew'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-117062524980026249</id><published>2007-02-04T16:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-04T16:41:09.356-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye, Betsy</title><content type='html'>After 20 years and 180,000+ miles, Betsy Jane was finally laid to rest yesterday, February 3rd, 2007. She was good to me--in the seven years I had her, she never left me stranded anywhere. Sure, something under the hood has been smoking for the past few years...and after driving her, you'd smell a bit like burning oil...and at the end, nothing but a piece of wire kept her rear bumper from falling off...and the muffler (long since rendered useless) swayed a bit in the breeze...and she wouldn't start without a jump...sure, she would never pass an emissions test if her life depended on it, and she didn't have a rear view mirror anymore (although if you angled the passenger sun visor just right, you could use that little mirror to see out the back window), and the little knobs that controlled the heat had long ago stopped sliding back and forth...in spite of all these things, she still has a special place in my heart, and I grieved a little for having to give her up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rest in peace, Betsy. You were a good girl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/294/1516/1600/407113/Copy%20of%20P1060001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/294/1516/320/330571/Copy%20of%20P1060001.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Betsy Jane, 1987-2007&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-117062524980026249?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/117062524980026249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=117062524980026249' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/117062524980026249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/117062524980026249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/02/goodbye-betsy.html' title='Goodbye, Betsy'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-117048257685955194</id><published>2007-02-03T00:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-03T01:02:56.876-05:00</updated><title type='text'>delayed reactions</title><content type='html'>Certain things tend to "hit" me later than they hit the average person. I don't get excited about vacations until I'm in the car or on the plane. September 11th didn't hit me until about mid-afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend is moving away, and I started to feel sad tonight, in the middle of her goodbye party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other things, however, spark an immediate emotional reaction. I found something out tonight that made me pretty angry, for example. I'm now working on how I'm going to respond to it. I can't help how it made me feel, but I can choose what I'm going to do about it, whether I'm going to keep fueling it and potentially alienate someone over something that, in the long run, is not a huge deal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which reminds me...this morning I was reading Job chapter 1, and I was struck by Job's immediate reaction to some pretty devastating news. He didn't immediately react with anger or hostility (like I probably would have). Not sure what his secret was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I'm going to miss you, Bradley. It probably won't really hit until Monday morning, but still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/294/1516/1600/87670/P1050901.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/294/1516/320/10546/P1050901.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-117048257685955194?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/117048257685955194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=117048257685955194' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/117048257685955194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/117048257685955194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/02/delayed-reactions.html' title='delayed reactions'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116985399651927785</id><published>2007-01-26T18:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-26T18:30:05.056-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I want to be a loser!</title><content type='html'>The diet begins.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never been one to be obsessed with food, but it's amazing how, the day after you start a diet, every thought is suddenly fixated on food. Calories. Points. Some of the things that go through your head are borderline insane: "&lt;em&gt;Hmm, I think I'll watch some TV...I wonder how many points that will cost me?"&lt;/em&gt; Life, for a brief period of time, revolves completely around food. And all the math involved! I don't really enjoy making decisions anyway, let alone decisions that involve doing math while I'm hungry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's my first full day, and my body is feeling two things: tired and confused. ("What the heck? What's with all these vegetables? What are we supposed to do with &lt;em&gt;vitamins&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;nutrients&lt;/em&gt;? Where's the cheeseburger?")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and funny lesson I learned today: pay attention to the serving size on the box. There's a big difference between an entire frozen pizza, and one-third of a frozen pizza.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I can make it through this week, I think it will get better. The nonphysical part of me feels good and hopeful. The physical part of me might be complaining, but honestly, it's been in charge for too long. Time to sit down and learn who's the boss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some things I'm looking forward to after I meet my goal:&lt;br /&gt;hiking in Tennessee in May without getting winded immediately&lt;br /&gt;fitting into my old clothes&lt;br /&gt;feeling healthier and having more energy&lt;br /&gt;sleeping better&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never really been super self-disciplined, but I'm trying to take some encouragement from Paul, who definitely knew self-discipline. A super cool self-discipline, perseverence verse I found: "&lt;em&gt;Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave..." &lt;/em&gt;- 1 Cor 9:26-27&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thass right, body. Who da boss?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116985399651927785?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116985399651927785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116985399651927785' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116985399651927785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116985399651927785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/01/i-want-to-be-loser_26.html' title='I want to be a loser!'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116955988767117476</id><published>2007-01-23T08:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-23T08:44:48.310-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the big three-oh</title><content type='html'>So, today is the husband's 30th birthday. The festivities, however, have been in full swing since Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday night was a combined surprise party with 20 of our friends. He was clueless, delightfully surprised, and we had a great time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The greatest part was when, Thursday night, he confessed that he'd been feeling hurt that I hadn't planned anything for his birthday. I choked back a laugh, feigned remorse for my thoughtlessness, and cooked up a couple lies to tide him over. Worked like a charm. Too bad crow wasn't an item on the party menu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saturday he opened his gifts early, then sat in the basement watching the special features on his new &lt;em&gt;Transformers: The Movie, 20th Anniversary edition &lt;/em&gt;DVD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, the in-laws came down to take us out to dinner. The restaurant choice was a no-brainer--Quaker Steak and Lube, best wings in town. Craig has been looking forward to the 30-wing challenge ever since his 29th birthday, and today he is at home recovering from the assault to his digestive system.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight we wrap it all up with a cake from the Golden Delight bakery and a fun-filled Bible study with the gang, talking about God's love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy birthday, baby :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116955988767117476?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116955988767117476/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116955988767117476' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116955988767117476'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116955988767117476'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/01/big-three-oh.html' title='the big three-oh'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116916130156366513</id><published>2007-01-18T17:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-18T18:01:41.670-05:00</updated><title type='text'>:) and :(</title><content type='html'>It's amazing the "fascinating" things one will think to blog about when she is procrastinating...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know the week isn't over yet, but I'm getting a head start on the weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some things that irked me this week:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;My car locks freezing shut, causing me to (1) bend (ie. ruin) my key and (2) snap off (yes, snap off) the door handle. It's been a cold week in Columbus.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Paying $20 at the vet for an unnecessary service that I had gone to passive-aggressive lengths to avoid. Half of me was irked at the swindling vet, the other half was irked at myself for not being more straightforward in turning down the unnecessary service. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Some things that made me smile this week:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;This: &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/294/1516/1600/881394/maureen%20doll.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/294/1516/320/72364/maureen%20doll.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is a doll Shannon made for me. It's supposed to be Maureen, my podmate (who is always joking that she thinks I must have a voodoo doll of her in my desk, because she says things to the boss like "Oh sure I'll do extra work, but only if you'll let me take it home with me." Her dedication makes the rest of us look like slackers). I pinned her for fun, but it just made me laugh because Maureen is the most likeable person I know, and even the doll is smiling and sweet-looking. This was a great source of amusement to me on Tuesday.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;American Idol (although for the first time, I've been feeling sad for the sucky contestants, especially the one mother who went on and on about how much crap she's been through in life, and that singing is the only thing that's gotten her through it, and she started crying when she was talking about how amazing it feels "when people keep telling you that you're not good enough, and you realize that you ARE really good" [except that she wasn't, and they laughed at her, and it made me really sad])&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Finding a period in the middle of a word at work. It was "alo.ng" and I wielded my red pen and killed it. I don't know why (and I realize that the 99% of you who are &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; like me in my word-nerdiness will find this pathetic rather than cool), but finding stuff like that always makes me feel happy and like my work matters. I exist so that periods don't get published in the middle of words. That counts for something, right?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The cat nap that produced these pictures (man, sometimes I wish I'd been born a cat):&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 449px; HEIGHT: 299px" height="319" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/P1050812.jpg" width="459" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 451px; HEIGHT: 315px" height="323" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/P1050809.jpg" width="457" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 450px; HEIGHT: 324px" height="410" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/P1050811.jpg" width="450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 452px; HEIGHT: 362px" height="419" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/P1050808.jpg" width="499" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last one is the funniest to me--check out the smushed face and one-eyed, bored look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, enough procrastinating. Time to get some stuff done.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116916130156366513?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116916130156366513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116916130156366513' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116916130156366513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116916130156366513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/01/and.html' title=':) and :('/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116906087934644659</id><published>2007-01-17T14:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-17T14:13:19.193-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Captain Bob</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="Section1"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;So I’ve got a rare lull at work, and I thought “seems like a good time for a blog!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I’ve been thinking a lot about God’s love lately. It’s an upcoming topic for Bible study, so I’ve been pondering it. Yesterday, it brought to mind a memory from years ago.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;For a short time in college, I was involved in the college group at a local church, which was led by this cool Air Force guy that we called Captain Bob (because his name was Bob and he was, indeed, a captain). At the end of our meetings, Captain Bob always prayed, and his prayers almost always started with this little sentiment: “Father, thanks for loving us.” I was always curiously impacted by that little prayer, and the memory of it has stayed with me. When I’d hear him say it, my heart would feel warm and open a little more toward God. I’ve been thinking about it and trying to figure out what exactly struck me about it… &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;It was a humble little prayer—implying that the love was something to be thankful for, rather than to be expected or demanded—but not in a morose or self-debasing way. There was something simple and childlike about it, almost as though caught by surprise, maybe with an unexpected gift (“Wow! You love me! How cool!”). There was also something secure about it. Unquestioning, unsuspicious. Just confident and at rest. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;Now, I don’t know if Captain Bob consciously felt all these things or intended all these things with his little prayer (shoot—for all I know, it was just a habit for him), but his words somehow communicated these things to me. Maybe even in a magnified way, because of the way they stood in contrast to what I often felt (and still often feel) in my own heart when I approach God—bored, suspicious, anxious…the pendulum always swinging back and forth between an arrogant sense of self-entitlement and an embarrassed sense of guilt. Hearing that little prayer (and remembering it now) was like a light shining into the darkness and confusion of my heart, declaring “It’s not supposed to be like this! You’ve got it all wrong, and it’s so much better than you realize!” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;It reminds me now of one of my favorite Brennan Manning quotes: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;“&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN" style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"  &gt;Grace strikes us when we are in great pain and restlessness. It strikes us when we walk through the dark valley of a meaningless and empty life… Sometimes at that moment a wave of light breaks into our darkness, and it is as though a voice were saying: ‘You are accepted. You are accepted, accepted by that which is greater than you, and the name of which you do not know. Do not ask for the name now; perhaps you will find it later. Do not try to do anything now; perhaps later you will do much. Do not seek for anything; do not perform anything; do not intend anything. Simply accept the fact that you are accepted!’ . . . If that happens to us, we experience grace.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN"   style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt; - &lt;u&gt;The Ragamuffin Gospel&lt;/u&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;So, yeah. I don’t really have a super-deep point to all of this, but it’s been on my mind for the past day or two. I’m realizing how little I have figured out when it comes to understanding God and what his love is like. It’s something difficult to put to words, but every so often the experience of it rushes in in a very real and almost tangible way, and when that happens, I feel like I have to somehow get it down on paper before I inevitably forget it again. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;So anyway, time to get back to work. Thanks for listening. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116906087934644659?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116906087934644659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116906087934644659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116906087934644659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116906087934644659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/01/captain-bob.html' title='Captain Bob'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116884035541269601</id><published>2007-01-15T00:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-15T00:52:35.436-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Weekend in Review</title><content type='html'>"&lt;em&gt;The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results&lt;/em&gt;." - Benjamin Franklin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't know that was attributed to Ben until I googled it. According to that sentiment, though, I'm certifiably insane. Can anyone else relate?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My weekend:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lots of driving. I'm thankful the Honda has cruise control.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Lots of family. I love 'em, but man. Do you ever look at your parents and think "Am I seriously the genetic combination of those two? How did THAT happen?"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fun (albeit brief) baby shower. Sam (sister-in-law, sort of. Someday, I hope?) is such a cute pregnant. I can't wait to meet baby Noah.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It was sooooo good to catch up with old friends at Janée and Dave's wedding. The roommate dance party, in itself, was worth the drive. (Beth, I think God told me that you need to move to Columbus. It might be your future husband's address or something. I'm not sure--our connection started to break up, so maybe I heard Him wrong, but I distinctly heard "Franklin County.")&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Awesome Sunday nap. One more reason I'm thankful for my career choice--my Sundays aren't consumed with lesson-planning. The freedom to nap is wonderful.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Desperate Housewives. I can't think of a better way to end the weekend than with some girlfriends, crackers, and brie (and Bree. The TV character as well as the friend she reminds me of).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Oh, and I get to sleep in tomorrow. Hallelujah. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116884035541269601?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116884035541269601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116884035541269601' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116884035541269601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116884035541269601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/01/weekend-in-review.html' title='Weekend in Review'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116857256363089337</id><published>2007-01-11T22:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-12T06:07:46.900-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Random stuff</title><content type='html'>Random stuff about today and the upcoming weekend:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I love the show The Office, but I do not love the fact that my work life feels more and more like it every day. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Stupid Grey's Anatomy made me cry tonight. Again. Stupid daddy scenes.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I was on quotationspage.com tonight and this one made me laugh: &lt;em&gt;"Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come."&lt;/em&gt; - Matt Groening&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;So tonight my brother told me that every time I learn a new science fact at work, I'm supposed to call and tell him. Dude, that's every day. Here's one I keep seeing that makes me think of Heather: "The sunniest place in the United States is Yuma, Arizona, with an average of 4133 hours of sunshine per year." Huh! Who knew?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;In the next couple months I have to finish making one baby blanket and (at least) four baby pillows. I'm so lame/behind on my sewing/knitting/crocheting projects. If I've promised you something and not yet delivered, don't worry--it's not you, it's me. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tomorrow is the Friday before a holiday weekend, and therefore a get-out-of-work-early day for all MGH employees. This makes me happy. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;This weekend I'm doing some serious driving and party- (or shower-/wedding-) hopping. I can already hear "I Will Survive" playing...BG peeps, are you ready for some dancing? Oh, but I am...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;That's all for now. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116857256363089337?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116857256363089337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116857256363089337' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116857256363089337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116857256363089337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/01/random-stuff.html' title='Random stuff'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116848069069785210</id><published>2007-01-10T20:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-10T21:05:14.713-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Suffering (oh yeah, baby!!)</title><content type='html'>(You know a melancholy personality when you see a subject line like that!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've been thinking about suffering lately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe having my favorite team lose the National Championship (after the most butt-kicking, flawless, beautiful football season ever) sparked it. That was painful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But even more than that, the subject has come up a lot lately. Maybe not that &lt;em&gt;word &lt;/em&gt;necessarily, but the idea. 2005 was a year I experienced some (non-Buckeye-related) suffering, and 2006 was fairly mild by comparison. That's good, right? Yet, somehow, and the end of 06, the reflecting/looking-back stuff felt a little more shallow than it did last year. There was a depth and a richness to what God taught me through the crap in '05 that I missed at the end of '06. Funny how that works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A good friend is going through some hard, hard stuff right now. She's not enjoying it. And yet, as I watch her and try to encourage her and be there for her, I can see the budding answers to some prayers I've been praying for her for years...some good, good things that God is doing and will continue to do in her life, and he's using this hard, hard stuff to do it. (Please don't kill me--I promise I didn't pray for you to suffer!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And last night, the subject came up with a group of friends as we were sitting around talking about the Bible...talking about God and some of the benefits (yes, benefits) we get to enjoy in our lives, some of which only come through suffering (not that suffering &lt;em&gt;is &lt;/em&gt;the benefit--I'm a melancholy, but not a masochist--but it's an avenue to some benefits). Benefits like humility, peace, character--you know those people who have that quality that just makes you want to be around them? That just by being around them, you feel good about yourself? They don't make everything about them, because they're genuinely interested in &lt;em&gt;you, &lt;/em&gt;and there's this presence about them that's just attractive and draws you in? Those people are usually people who have suffered a lot, and instead of choosing bitterness, they chose something else, and over time it has profoundly changed them. I want to be like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess I've been thinking about suffering and about how thankful I am for the bits of it I have experienced so far. And more than the suffering itself, I'm thankful for a God who uses it to bring about good in my life. Real good. Lasting good. Deep good. It's totally crazy and counterintuitive, but that seems to be how he works. And today, it makes me happy. (Probably because the suffering I've been reflecting on is either in the past or happening to someone else--ha!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116848069069785210?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116848069069785210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116848069069785210' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116848069069785210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116848069069785210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/01/suffering-oh-yeah-baby.html' title='Suffering (oh yeah, baby!!)'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116823031828439195</id><published>2007-01-07T23:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-07T23:25:18.313-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Resolutions?</title><content type='html'>It's the new year. Everyone's talking about resolutions and new beginnings. I was reading Dena's blog, and she made a good point: How exactly did the world "change" a week ago when the clock struck 12? What's the big deal about the new year?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing, really. But for some reason, we take it as our annual opportunity to look back and look ahead. To take stock of things. To reflect on all that has changed. To decide what else we want to change.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dena's observation reminded me of a passage in the Bible: "&lt;em&gt;Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness&lt;/em&gt;." (Lamentations 3:21-23) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The new year is a good time for a new start, but that's true of every day. I "blow it" pretty often. I lament over my bad choices, my lack of discipline (reason #1 that I don't make new year's resolutions), my inability to "fix" all the things that drive me crazy about myself...but I love this passage, because it reminds me (a) that God's love is bigger than my screwups and (b) that every day (actually, every moment) is an opportunity for a fresh start. I don't have to wait until next January. His kindness toward me is always new, and his faithfulness to me is always great. Good thing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116823031828439195?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116823031828439195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116823031828439195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116823031828439195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116823031828439195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/01/resolutions.html' title='Resolutions?'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116804112473526436</id><published>2007-01-05T18:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-01-05T18:52:04.753-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chuck Norris Fun Facts</title><content type='html'>Someone rediscovered &lt;a href="http://www.chucknorrisfacts.com"&gt;this list &lt;/a&gt;today at work. It's worth hours of ridiculous entertainment. I don't know who decided that Chuck Norris was the biggest badass in the world, but these are funny. Here are a few of my favorites:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;The leading causes of death in the United States are: 1. Heart Disease 2. Chuck Norris 3. Cancer &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order are trademarked names for his left and right legs.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chuck Norris is the reason why Waldo is hiding.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;There is no such thing as global warming. Chuck Norris was cold, so he turned the sun up.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you ask Chuck Norris what time it is, he always says, "Two seconds 'til." After you ask, "Two seconds 'til what?" he roundhouse kicks you in the face.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is based on a true story: Chuck Norris once swallowed a turtle whole, and when he crapped it out, the turtle was six feet tall and had learned karate.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When Chuck Norris goes to donate blood, he declines the syringe, and instead requests a hand gun and a bucket.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chuck Norris was the fourth wise man, who gave baby Jesus the gift of beard, which he carried with him until he died. The other three wise men were enraged by the preference that Jesus showed to Chuck's gift, and arranged to have him written out of the bible. All three died soon after of mysterious roundhouse-kick related injuries.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When Chuck Norris falls in water, Chuck Norris doesn't get wet. Water gets Chuck Norris.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chuck Norris doesn't actually write books, the words assemble themselves out of fear.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The grass is always greener on the other side, unless Chuck Norris has been there. In that case the grass is most likely soaked in blood and tears.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When Chuck Norris talks, everybody listens. And dies.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chuck Norris doesnt shave; he kicks himself in the face. The only thing that can cut Chuck Norris is Chuck Norris.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chuck Norris grinds his coffee with his teeth and boils the water with his own rage.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chuck Norris doesn't believe in Germany.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;It takes 14 puppeteers to make Chuck Norris smile, but only 2 to make him destroy an orphanage.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chuck Norris can slam a revolving door.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chuck Norris eats beef jerky and craps gunpowder. Then, he uses that gunpowder to make a bullet, which he uses to kill a cow and make more beef jerky. Some people refer to this as the "Circle of Life."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Fear is not the only emotion Chuck Norris can smell. He can also detect hope, as in "I hope I don't get a roundhouse kick from Chuck Norris."&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;Oh, and there are so many more--this is just a small sample. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116804112473526436?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116804112473526436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116804112473526436' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116804112473526436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116804112473526436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2007/01/chuck-norris-fun-facts.html' title='Chuck Norris Fun Facts'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116759098097600620</id><published>2006-12-31T13:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-31T13:49:41.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'>warning label</title><content type='html'>This made me laugh. Warning label on the back of a tin of lip balm:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"WARNING: DO NOT APPLY AROUND EYES." &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Duly noted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116759098097600620?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116759098097600620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116759098097600620' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116759098097600620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116759098097600620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/12/warning-label.html' title='warning label'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116750797624674337</id><published>2006-12-30T14:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-30T14:46:16.310-05:00</updated><title type='text'>clean house</title><content type='html'>I LOVE the feeling of a clean house! All my chores are done, and now there's nothing for me to do but sit here and enjoy it. I don't know what it is--maybe it's my control-freakiness, but when the house is clean, I feel more relaxed, more put-together, more like all is right with the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a dork.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brian and Sam are coming today and we get to take them mattress shopping. I love getting to play the big-sister role and help them out. Sam's getting too pregnant to have to keep sleeping on the couch. I'm hoping they'll have time to grab dinner before they leave so we can spend some more time with them. It's weird how much less you see your siblings when you're grown up and live 2+ hours away...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, it's almost the new year. On the surface, 2006 doesn't feel like it was as significant for me as 2005 was. But I guess a lot has happened. It was the year of the cat's broken leg, the year of Polaris Bible Study's beginnings, the year of finishing my first TWE, the year of getting my own cubicle (for 6 months, at least, until I got podded, which hasn't turned out to be so bad after all), the year of new job opportunities, the year of reconnecting with my long-lost brother, and of course, it's been one hell of a year for Buckeye football. See ya, 2006. You've been a good year. I'm looking forward to seeing what 2007 will bring.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116750797624674337?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116750797624674337/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116750797624674337' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116750797624674337'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116750797624674337'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/12/clean-house.html' title='clean house'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116741567938423515</id><published>2006-12-29T12:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-29T13:07:59.476-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Top 10 Work Quotes of 2006</title><content type='html'>10.  “Sometimes you have to exercise the futility before it can be recognized.” – Abbie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.   “There’s a difference between being positive and being delusional.” – Tina, to Art&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;8.   “How am I gonna show up at home with no pants on?” – Steve&lt;/p&gt;7.   “The data shows that nuns who had lower levels of education and smaller head circumference were more likely to suffer from dementia.” – Biology Teacher Wraparound Edition (TWE)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.    “Don’t waste the whole pickle on &lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt;!” – Justin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.    “I don’t ‘get’ nuns.” – Jen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.   “We made eggs a’la Boy Scouts.” – DeAnna B. (about making eggs over a campfire)&lt;br /&gt;      "Eggs out of &lt;em&gt;what&lt;/em&gt;?” – Anne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.    “The right hand doesn’t know what the left hand is doing…and the left hand doesn’t know what &lt;em&gt;it’s&lt;/em&gt; doing…” – anonymous, overheard&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.    “PROPS REQUIRED: Medium size glass bowl filled with cut up fruit. Among the fruit should be apples and pears, bananas, and mango (for ethnic variety).” –Chemistry photo spec&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.    “You don’t want a book that jumps out at you and says, ‘Look at me! I’m hard!’” – Chemistry focus group member&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116741567938423515?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116741567938423515/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116741567938423515' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116741567938423515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116741567938423515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/12/top-10-work-quotes-of-2006.html' title='Top 10 Work Quotes of 2006'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116740890106235205</id><published>2006-12-29T10:39:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-29T12:11:22.753-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My Christmas in a nutshell: Lots of driving…lots of family…good times…felt mostly healthy…got a new (to us) car…got a new toaster, Dilbert calendar, LOTS of coffee (yum!!), saw a grandma I hadn’t seen in a long time (which was really nice). Favorite gift: Ted Ginn jersey from Craig. I wasn’t sure which number I wanted—I was torn between Ginn and Smith—but Craig said that 7 was a “sexier” number than 10, so we’ll go with that one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! I finally saw Little Miss Sunshine last night! I'd heard good things about it, and it did not disappoint. I love Steve Carell, and it was fun to see him play a more serious role. One of my favorite parts was toward the end, where the one kid says he wishes he could just fall asleep and wake up when he's 18. Steve Carell says (or, at least, his character says) something (and I think he was quoting someone else, but I forget who) about how the best years of your life are the ones in which you suffer, because they make you who you are. "The good times? Total waste. Didn't learn a thing." I love that. It sounds a bit esoteric, but I think it's true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, that's about all for now. Just one more day of 2006, and then I can use my new Dilbert calendar!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116740890106235205?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116740890106235205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116740890106235205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116740890106235205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116740890106235205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/12/my-christmas-in-nutshell-lots-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116674540097741674</id><published>2006-12-21T18:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-21T18:56:41.016-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"It's the most wonderful time of the year...."</title><content type='html'>I heard this song on the radio tonight on my way home from work...as I sat in bumper-to-bumper rush hour traffic, which of course was aggravated by the Christmas shopping traffic around the mall. Ha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I haven't died yet, but I'm still not better. Went to Urgent Care Tuesday night because my lungs were hurting so badly I could barely breathe. Apparently the bug in my chest has been promoted to bronchitis, and I got my first Christmas present of the year--another antibiotic prescription. Happy holidays, lung infection! And a happy new year as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But all negativity aside, things are going well. I'm looking forward to seeing family and getting a break from the endless stream of pages at work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year I posted my favorite work quote of the year, which was Shannon asking "Does it feel like Christmas, or does it feel like you want to cut your head off?"  Compared to last Christmas's Biology hell (and California hell for the rest of them), this hasn't been bad. And podding actually hasn't been so bad, either.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things that made me smile today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;reading my Christmas card from the bosses and seeing that Hope had written "Kathleen" next to my name (I swear, sometimes it feels like they're my extra moms, rather than my bosses)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;being reminded of an unfortunate Earth Science typo, in which the term "diapirs" had been misspelled "diapers"&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;leftover chocolate cake from yesterday's department party&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Maureen (she's just funny)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;getting an unexpected gift from my favorite freelancer&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;having lunch with Adrienne, laughing together and marveling over God's faithfulness and timeliness&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well, time to study for my test. Here's a sampling of some of the terms I need to know for this test (be thankful you don't have to take it!! Unless you're Adrienne and you DO have to take it :)):&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Biblical perspicuity&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;hermeneutics&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;inductive study&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;didactic&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;verbal plenary inspiration&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;transliteration&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;canonicity&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;apocrypha&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;pseudepigraphal&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116674540097741674?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116674540097741674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116674540097741674' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116674540097741674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116674540097741674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/12/its-most-wonderful-time-of-year.html' title='&quot;It&apos;s the most wonderful time of the year....&quot;'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116628487400900269</id><published>2006-12-16T10:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-16T11:01:14.026-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I feel like...</title><content type='html'>...I'm going to die. My throat is on fire, my back and neck hurt, and I can't breathe. When will it feel better? Next week are all the work Christmas parties, and after that is &lt;em&gt;real &lt;/em&gt;Christmas, which I don't want to miss. Boo, boo, boo on being sick :(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116628487400900269?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116628487400900269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116628487400900269' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116628487400900269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116628487400900269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/12/i-feel-like.html' title='I feel like...'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116613881924701419</id><published>2006-12-14T18:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-14T18:26:59.266-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Update: the move, the sickies</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Update on the move:&lt;/strong&gt; Apparently, the moving people didn't get the memo about DeAnna S, Maureen, and I being in a pod together. We got there today to find our pod-to-be still divided in two by a cubicle wall. We did our best to get some work done, picking stuff out of our still-packed boxes (which we were told NOT to unpack) and climbing over one another. All the while, Jen kept throwing new chapters at me and making me want to cry. (Most hated question of the day: "Where is your in-box?") Apparently the only person in MGH who knows a damned thing about what's going on with our move is DeAnna B. Hats off to the best Move Coordinator ever!  Anyway, I'm hoping to arrive in the morning to find things as they should be. I'm crossing my fingers, but not holding my breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Update on my sickies:&lt;/strong&gt; Today, as my throat-grossness got worse and my chest-pain turned into chest-burning accompanied by hacking coughs, I decided that my sinus infection has officially taken up residence in my lungs, morphing into a URI. I'm no doctor, so I could be wrong, but I sure feel like crap. However, I'm counting my blessings, because things could always be worse. I could have a hairy, toothy cyst like &lt;a href="http://iamshannon.blogspot.com/"&gt;Shannon&lt;/a&gt;. Get well soon, Shan! Your new window-cube view is going to waste without you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116613881924701419?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116613881924701419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116613881924701419' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116613881924701419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116613881924701419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/12/update-move-sickies.html' title='Update: the move, the sickies'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116606881839112870</id><published>2006-12-13T22:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-13T23:00:18.406-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Canon, The Move</title><content type='html'>So, I had my last class tonight, and it was not boring. At all. Cool-ass stuff. Talk to me if you're curious, and I'd be glad to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The big work move happened today. Tomorrow I go in to my new "pod." It will be weird to get to the top of the stairs and turn the other way. I suppose I'll get used to it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116606881839112870?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116606881839112870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116606881839112870' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116606881839112870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116606881839112870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/12/canon-move.html' title='The Canon, The Move'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116601398397727381</id><published>2006-12-13T07:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-13T07:46:23.996-05:00</updated><title type='text'>new blogger?</title><content type='html'>Um, so does anyone know how to switch over to the new "beta" blogger? I remember it giving me the option the other day (and I was like, "No thanks, not now, I'll do it later"), but now I can't find it. Oh, and now it won't let me post comments on the blogs of my friends who have the beta blogger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm feeling ostracized.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116601398397727381?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116601398397727381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116601398397727381' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116601398397727381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116601398397727381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/12/new-blogger.html' title='new blogger?'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116597935266990593</id><published>2006-12-12T21:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-12T22:09:12.743-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Randomosity</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Why is that you can reheat a burrito in the microwave, and it can start making all these sizzling and popping sounds that make you think the cheese is so hot that it's going to explode...and you can take it out and the cheese will be boiling on the plate...and yet the chicken in the middle is still cold?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tomorrow's my last class of this session. We're going to be talking about Biblical Canonicity--how we got our Bible and why the books in it are considered "the canon." I've been so excited to learn about this, but I've been reading the homework beforehand and, I've got to tell you...it's boring! I mean, bore-me-to-tears boring. But seriously, if you're someone who gets hung up on that and is interested in investigating, check it out. There's lots of information out there. Lots of tedious, painfully detailed information. Wow. I've got a couple articles you can read...if you dare.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Last week I didn't feel especially sick, and yet it turned out that I had a sinus infection. This week I'm still getting over the infection, but now I'm starting to feel &lt;em&gt;actually &lt;/em&gt;sick. What does it mean? Is it "opposites day," meaning that now I'm not really sick? Hm.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;So far, the cats have not knocked over the Christmas tree. Knock on laminate flooring.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tomorrow's moving day at work, which means we get to leave at noon. And have a noon happy hour. Then do some buzzed Christmas shopping. Woo-hoo!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116597935266990593?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116597935266990593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116597935266990593' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116597935266990593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116597935266990593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/12/randomosity.html' title='Randomosity'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116578243205078760</id><published>2006-12-10T15:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-10T15:27:12.083-05:00</updated><title type='text'>6 stages of a project</title><content type='html'>A friend told me about this list. Given the recent goings-on at my particular place of business, it struck me as timely and applicable, even if painfully so. (You all have three guesses as to who #6 is about. And the first two don't count.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The 6 stages of any project:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Enthusiasm &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Disillusionment &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Panic &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Search for the guilty &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Punishment of the innocent&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Reward of the non-participants &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116578243205078760?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116578243205078760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116578243205078760' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116578243205078760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116578243205078760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/12/6-stages-of-project.html' title='6 stages of a project'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116553883847266857</id><published>2006-12-07T19:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-11T12:55:13.176-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Milton</title><content type='html'>I feel like Milton from Office Space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I understand his attachment to his Swingline stapler. The other one, of course, was always binding up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life has become Office Space, and the things I'm willing to fight for feel as petty as a favorite stapler. Or "the good white-out." Or the freedom "to play my radio at a &lt;em&gt;reasonable&lt;/em&gt; volume."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? Who knows. Anyone who has ever worked in an office can relate, I'm sure. I think it's because office life is so monotonous, and you spend so much of your time there, that the small things become the important things. Whether or not you get to keep your pencil drawer. Whether you get one shelf or two. Whether you get to sit by the window. Whether you get to sit by your friend or by the guy who noisily clips his nails. And, of course, whether you get your own desk or whether you have to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel so petty. I got upset today. Another friend told me that she was allowing herself today to be mad, and that tomorrow she would go about the business of getting over it and having a good attitude. Me too. Tomorrow. Today, I'm pissed. But I had my day, I cried in the boss's office, and now it's time to get over it and move on. Focus on the things that are good (and there really are so many things).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the heck of it, I thought I'd post the lyrics to that Sara Groves song. I need to keep it on repeat until I get some perspective about the situation (the reference to Job makes me realize how ridiculous my "problems" are, relatively).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What I thought I Wanted&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tuxedo in the closet, gold band in a box &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Two days from the altar she went and called the whole thing off &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What he thought he wanted, what he got instead &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Leaves him broken yet grateful &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I passed understanding a long, long time ago &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And the simple home of systems and answers we all know &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What I thought I wanted, what I got instead &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Leaves me broken and somehow peaceful &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I keep wanting you to be fair &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But that’s not what you said &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want certain answers to these prayers &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But that’s not what you said &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;When I get to heaven I’m gonna go find Job &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to ask a few hard questions, I want to know what he knows &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;About what it is he wanted and what he got instead &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And how to be broken yet faithful &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What I thought I wanted &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What I thought I wanted &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What I thought I wanted &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What I thought I wanted &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Staring in the water like Aesop's foolish dog &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I can’t help but reflect on what it was I almost lost &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What I thought I wanted, what I got instead &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Leaves me broken and grateful &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I’m broken and grateful &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to be broken and grateful &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to be grateful, peaceful, thankful, faithful, grateful&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to be grateful, peaceful,  faithful&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to be grateful, peaceful, thankful, faithful, grateful&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want to be grateful, peaceful,  faithful, grateful&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116553883847266857?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116553883847266857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116553883847266857' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116553883847266857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116553883847266857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/12/milton.html' title='Milton'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116543718787508449</id><published>2006-12-06T15:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-12-06T15:33:07.973-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Annoyed</title><content type='html'>I've been annoyed all day. I got some frustrating news this morning at work, and I'm trying not to have a horrible attitude about it, but I'm having a hard time with that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ironic thing is that, this morning as I was driving to work, I was rocking out to a new (well, new-to-me) Sara Groves song....a song about being thankful when your expectations aren't met and God has something in mind that's different from what you had in mind. I was totally digging the sentiment...at least, for a few hours, until my own expectations were smashed a little bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's crazy how, when you don't have something, you can be content not having it. Even sometimes when you see &lt;em&gt;other&lt;/em&gt; people getting it, you can manage to be content without it. But then when you &lt;em&gt;do&lt;/em&gt; get it yourself, and you get used to having it, it's hard then to have it taken away. You start to feel entitled. Having it taken from you, you start to resent the people who get to keep theirs. You start making mental lists of all the reasons you deserve it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my case, the "it" is a cubicle all to myself (which is silly in the grand scheme of things, but hey. I didn't say it was logical for me to be super annoyed, it's just how I'm feeling), but I guess the contentment vs. entitlement thing can often be true of many other things we all want--romantic relationships, a certain standard of living, certain comforts, etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's making me realize how demanding I can be, and how ungrateful I am for the things I have. Recently (for the past month or so), I've actually been thinking a lot about how much I enjoy my job and how lucky I am to have it so good. So it's really kind of funny that, the moment something doesn't go my way, I throw a little temper tantrum.  Oh Lord, help me to grow up and be more thankful and less demanding.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116543718787508449?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116543718787508449/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116543718787508449' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116543718787508449'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116543718787508449'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/12/annoyed.html' title='Annoyed'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116492553739763523</id><published>2006-11-30T17:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-30T17:25:37.423-05:00</updated><title type='text'>O, Christmas Tree...</title><content type='html'>Today marks an important holiday moment in the Dalton household: the first broken Christmas tree bulb. Actually, I came home to &lt;em&gt;two &lt;/em&gt;broken bulbs on the floor. Apparently the cats had a busy day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a picture of our lovely tree (it's a bit Charlie-Brown, but this is our third year with it and it was free to begin with, so you can't really beat that!):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/294/1516/1600/862158/P1050658.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/294/1516/320/361673/P1050658.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116492553739763523?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116492553739763523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116492553739763523' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116492553739763523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116492553739763523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/11/o-christmas-tree.html' title='O, Christmas Tree...'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116485695188671447</id><published>2006-11-29T22:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-29T22:23:08.050-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Derek</title><content type='html'>So, everyone says we look alike. What do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a blast. Dinner, drinks, bowling, laughing, sharing, planning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good times :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/294/1516/1600/333737/P1050630.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/294/1516/320/206463/P1050630.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116485695188671447?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116485695188671447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116485695188671447' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116485695188671447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116485695188671447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/11/derek.html' title='Derek'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116406117543941961</id><published>2006-11-20T17:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-20T17:19:35.483-05:00</updated><title type='text'>tiring weekend, short work week, holiday ahead</title><content type='html'>This weekend was fun, yet exhausting. I slept for almost 11 hours Saturday night and still woke up extremely tired. Go bucks! *weakly waves rally towel in the air*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel desperately in need of some rest. Whatever that means. I often feel like I'm waiting for life to "slow down," but we all know that's kind of a joke. Does it ever slow down? I feel like life has been kicking my ass lately, however, and I am ready for that to stop. Can a sista get a break?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there are only two more days of work left (technically, less than that. We all know McGraw will be kicking us out early on Wednesday), and then I'm free for 5 long, blissful, glorious days of Thanksgiving break. Some things I'm looking forward to:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Eating lots and lots of food at Craig's dad &amp; stepmom's house on Thursday&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Eating more food at Craig's mom and stepdad's house on Friday&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Spending time with Craig's family (I heart them all)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Getting some crocheting done for baby nephew Noah (shh, remember Brian and Sam don't know yet)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sleeping in on Friday while the crazy people go out in a sleep-deprived,  psychotic shopping frenzy and see how many Elmos and PS3s they can rip from one another's hands. No thanks.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Seeing Mom and the sibs in Toledo&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Seeing Derek and Dana (yay!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Visiting El Zarape in BG (oh, chips and salsa, frijoles refritos, best margaritas in the world...here I come!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Taking Monday off&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ah yes...the holidays are upon us...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116406117543941961?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116406117543941961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116406117543941961' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116406117543941961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116406117543941961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/11/tiring-weekend-short-work-week-holiday.html' title='tiring weekend, short work week, holiday ahead'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116380053842011676</id><published>2006-11-17T16:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-17T16:55:38.443-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Less than 24 hours and counting...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;Go &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Bucks&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#ff0000;"&gt;!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://athletics.osu.edu/media/audio/fighttheteam.ram"&gt;(click here)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fight the team across the field &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Show them Ohio's here, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;(We've got the team why don't we)&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Set the earth reverberating &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;With a mighty cheer, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Rah! Rah! Rah! &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hit them hard and see how they fall, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Never let that team get the ball, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hail, hail, the gang's all here, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;So let's win that old conference now!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116380053842011676?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116380053842011676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116380053842011676' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116380053842011676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116380053842011676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/11/less-than-24-hours-and-counting.html' title='Less than 24 hours and counting...'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116371149105604050</id><published>2006-11-16T15:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-16T16:11:31.183-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Random things</title><content type='html'>Here are some random things that have been clunking around my head this week (well, random to you maybe, but not so random to me. God tends to work in themes. Or maybe he just repeats himself. Kind of like the tips for good reading interpretation--you can pick out key ideas just by looking for repeated words. When God's got his finger on something in my life, it tends to become clear as one [or two] things come up in several ways and through several means in one small span of time.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Being forgiven doesn't make sin any less icky. I can be secure in God's acceptance of me and yet still experience the painful consequences of my bad choices. This is not fun.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;No matter how I feel in the moment, God is totally in control.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;God's purposes for me are always good, and I can trust him. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Trying to manage and control and manipulate is pretty much a guaranteed recipe for anxiety. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;On the other hand, trusting God is the way to real peace (the deep kind, not the superficial kind). When I live here, no matter how bad I'm feeling, it can feel good underneath.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116371149105604050?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116371149105604050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116371149105604050' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116371149105604050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116371149105604050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/11/random-things.html' title='Random things'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116343919456859981</id><published>2006-11-13T12:32:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T12:33:14.613-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"Cleanup Day" at work...</title><content type='html'>...is today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Good thing, because I just dropped macaroni and cheese onto my keyboard. Nice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116343919456859981?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116343919456859981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116343919456859981' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116343919456859981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116343919456859981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/11/cleanup-day-at-work.html' title='&quot;Cleanup Day&quot; at work...'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116337686078188448</id><published>2006-11-12T18:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-12T21:41:44.990-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the Charlie concert</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Well, my mind is still pretty fuzzy from last night's sleep-deprivation, but here goes... The concert last night was amazing. Some things that amazed me: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;that &lt;a href="http://www.charliedodrill.com/"&gt;this guy&lt;/a&gt; spent two years living in the mountains, filling his time with nothing but Jesus and feeding his body with nothing but wheat flour and water&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;that he also drove 6 hours in a 10-year-old Dodge Stratus ("Don't talk about my car that way!") to play a show in my friends' basement; oh yeah, and he did it with only one working headlight&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;that Jesus never gets tired of me&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;that, in spite of all my striving and sweating and straining to fix myself and do everything "right," the one thing Jesus really wants from me is my love&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;that it's possible to sit and have a conversation with the God of the universe&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;that all my life I've wanted to make my parents proud and never felt like I could...and then I met the perfect God of heaven, and somehow I make him happy; I don't get that, but it's sweet&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;There's more, but that's all for now. Oh, and here are some pictures (they posted out of order for some reason): &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Charlie: "I feel like a girl!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/DSC_0045.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/DSC_0045.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Singing at church before the teaching&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/P1050568.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/P1050568.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Chris's dream come true: a jam session with Charlie&lt;a href="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/P1050595.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/P1050595.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Jamming&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/DSC_0041.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/DSC_0041.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Claire--the youngest fan in the room&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/P1050577.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/P1050577.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116337686078188448?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116337686078188448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116337686078188448' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116337686078188448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116337686078188448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/11/charlie-concert.html' title='the Charlie concert'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116310743927581866</id><published>2006-11-09T16:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-09T16:23:59.293-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>My eyes feel like they're going to fall out of my head. I like my new job (really, I do), but today was rough. I've never spent so much time on one chapter. One long, painful, blantantly grammar-and-style-rule-disregarding chapter. Ugh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Editors, please show some love and respect to your proofers. That's all I'm saying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116310743927581866?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116310743927581866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116310743927581866' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116310743927581866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116310743927581866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/11/my-eyes-feel-like-theyre-going-to-fall.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116294175766564359</id><published>2006-11-07T18:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-07T18:22:37.683-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Exciting Things</title><content type='html'>Here are some things I am currently excited about:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I learned to crochet yesterday! I started a baby blanket for my little nephew who will be here in the spring. (Shh--don't tell Brian and Sam. It's a surprise.)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I get to meet (technically, reunite with) my brother Derek in about 2 and a half weeks. Super exciting.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/charliedodrill"&gt;Charlie Dodrill &lt;/a&gt;is coming to Columbus this Saturday. More specifically, he's coming to church with us and then playing a private show in my friends' basement. Does it get any cooler than that? &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Christmas is getting closer.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;So yeah, exciting stuff. However, the flip side of all this excitement is that because of my jacked-up personality (just kidding, I know God made me just the way I am on purpose...but seriously, don't you just sometimes wish you were wired differently?), I can quickly go from excited to overwhelmed. I can quickly go from &lt;em&gt;anything&lt;/em&gt; to overwhelmed, actually. So I have been overwhelmed lately. My brain has been on overload for the past week or so, and I'm starting to feel like it's &lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt; (rather than the broken TV) that has sparks flying out the back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if I snap at you or freak out right now, I apologize. I'm just so excited :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116294175766564359?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116294175766564359/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116294175766564359' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116294175766564359'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116294175766564359'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/11/exciting-things.html' title='Exciting Things'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116269731394166715</id><published>2006-11-04T22:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-04T22:28:33.970-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The free TV...</title><content type='html'>...is back in the trash. The picture got worse, and when Craig tried to fix it, it went from green to red to fuzzy. And then sparks started coming out of the back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ashes to ashes, dumpster to dumpster.  Oh well.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116269731394166715?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116269731394166715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116269731394166715' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116269731394166715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116269731394166715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/11/free-tv.html' title='The free TV...'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116247192365310153</id><published>2006-11-02T07:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-02T07:52:03.670-05:00</updated><title type='text'>love debt</title><content type='html'>&lt;em&gt;"Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another, for whoever loves others has fulfilled the law."&lt;/em&gt; - Romans 13:8&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot of the time, I feel as though people owe &lt;em&gt;me &lt;/em&gt;something. What if I really lived as though I were indebted to everyone? As though I truly had "a &lt;em&gt;continuing&lt;/em&gt; debt to love"?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that's pretty different.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116247192365310153?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116247192365310153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116247192365310153' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116247192365310153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116247192365310153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/11/love-debt.html' title='love debt'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116242648752355839</id><published>2006-11-01T19:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T19:14:47.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Can I just say...</title><content type='html'>...that I freaking love &lt;a href="http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&amp;friendID=76320895&amp;amp;blogID=187696170&amp;MyToken=89b55527-9e1f-4d08-aa51-41fddde72045"&gt;this girl&lt;/a&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out the latest blog of my friend Christy. She's a college friend. We're super (super) different. But knowing her has enriched my life. She's got some wisdom that just oozes out of her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116242648752355839?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116242648752355839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116242648752355839' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116242648752355839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116242648752355839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/11/can-i-just-say.html' title='Can I just say...'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116239754365453910</id><published>2006-11-01T11:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-11-01T11:12:27.993-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dumpster-diving: finding treasures in unexpected places</title><content type='html'>Yesterday my husband found a 27" flat-screen TV in a dumpster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He brought it home. It works. The picture gets a little green sometimes, but other than that...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If anyone knows anything about electronics and how to fix that, let me know!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116239754365453910?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116239754365453910/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116239754365453910' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116239754365453910'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116239754365453910'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/11/dumpster-diving-finding-treasures-in.html' title='Dumpster-diving: finding treasures in unexpected places'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116181567124462152</id><published>2006-10-25T17:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-25T17:34:31.383-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Psycho Grammar Nazi is Back</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=Section1&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Arial&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#333333'&gt;Several weeks ago when I had my interview with SRA, the interviewer asked me what my grammar pet peeve is.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Arial&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#333333'&gt;I couldn't think of one.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Arial&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#333333'&gt;I must have just been out of practice, because they're all coming back to me now! I wanted to post the latest two, but when I thought about it, they can probably be lumped into one category: misusing pronouns (specifically, &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-style:italic'&gt;I, me, my, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;and &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style='font-style:italic'&gt;myself).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt; &amp;nbsp;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Arial&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#333333'&gt;They are all personal pronouns, but each is a different type of pronoun. Listen carefully. Here are the rules:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo2'&gt;&lt;![if !supportLists]&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Symbol&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family: Symbol;color:#333333'&gt;&lt;span style='mso-list:Ignore'&gt;&amp;middot;&lt;font size=1 face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;span style='font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"'&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;![endif]&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Arial&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#333333'&gt;&amp;quot;I&amp;quot; is a &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-weight:bold'&gt;subjective&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; pronoun. It should only be used as the &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-weight:bold'&gt;subject&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; of a sentence. (Subject = &amp;quot;doer&amp;quot; of the action) Ex: &amp;quot;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-weight:bold'&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; wanted to kick this editor today.&amp;quot; or &amp;quot;Maureen and &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-weight:bold'&gt;I&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; are badass proofing machines.&amp;quot;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo2'&gt;&lt;![if !supportLists]&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Symbol&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family: Symbol;color:#333333'&gt;&lt;span style='mso-list:Ignore'&gt;&amp;middot;&lt;font size=1 face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;span style='font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"'&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;![endif]&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Arial&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#333333'&gt;&amp;quot;Me&amp;quot; is an &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-weight:bold'&gt;objective&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; pronoun. It should only be used as the &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-weight:bold'&gt;object&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; of a sentence. (Object = receiver of the action) Ex: &amp;quot;She stuck &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-weight:bold'&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; with a ridiculous deadline.&amp;quot; or &amp;quot;Give the chapters or Maureen or to &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-weight:bold'&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;.&amp;quot; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo2'&gt;&lt;![if !supportLists]&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Symbol&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family: Symbol;color:#333333'&gt;&lt;span style='mso-list:Ignore'&gt;&amp;middot;&lt;font size=1 face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;span style='font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"'&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;![endif]&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Arial&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#333333'&gt;&amp;quot;My&amp;quot; is a &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-weight:bold'&gt;possessive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; pronoun. It should be used to indicate possession or ownership. Ex: &amp;quot;Give me &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-weight:bold'&gt;my&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; red pen before I kick you.&amp;quot; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Arial&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#333333'&gt;Okay, now this is where it gets tricky&amp;#8230;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l0 level1 lfo2'&gt;&lt;![if !supportLists]&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Symbol&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family: Symbol;color:#333333'&gt;&lt;span style='mso-list:Ignore'&gt;&amp;middot;&lt;font size=1 face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;span style='font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"'&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;![endif]&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Arial&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#333333'&gt;&amp;quot;Myself&amp;quot; is a &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-weight:bold'&gt;reflexive&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; pronoun. It should also be used as the object of a sentence, but &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-weight:bold'&gt;ONLY&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; when the subject (&amp;#8220;doer&amp;#8221; of the action) and the object (receiver of the action) &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-weight:bold'&gt;refer to the same person&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;. Ex: &amp;#8220;I accidentally wrote on &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-weight:bold'&gt;myself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt; with my red pen.&amp;#8221; &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Arial&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#333333'&gt;The two biggest violations of this rule (in my anal opinion) are as follows:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo4'&gt;&lt;![if !supportLists]&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Arial&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family: Arial;color:#333333'&gt;&lt;span style='mso-list:Ignore'&gt;1.&lt;font size=1 face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;span style='font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"'&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;![endif]&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Arial&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#333333'&gt;When someone uses &amp;#8220;myself&amp;#8221; when they should use &amp;#8220;me.&amp;#8221; Ex: &amp;#8220;If you have a question, ask Suzie or myself.&amp;#8221; No, no, no! It should be &amp;#8220;&amp;#8230;ask Suzie or &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style='font-weight:bold'&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;.&amp;#8221; Another famous boo-boo is to say &amp;#8220;&amp;#8230;ask Suzie or I.&amp;#8221; This is also wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal style='margin-left:.5in;text-indent:-.25in;mso-list:l1 level1 lfo4'&gt;&lt;![if !supportLists]&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Arial&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family: Arial;color:#333333'&gt;&lt;span style='mso-list:Ignore'&gt;2.&lt;font size=1 face="Times New Roman"&gt;&lt;span style='font:7.0pt "Times New Roman"'&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;![endif]&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Arial&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family:Arial;color:#333333'&gt;When someone uses &amp;#8220;I&amp;#8221; when they should use &amp;#8220;my.&amp;#8221; Ex: &amp;#8220;The copies are on Jen and I&amp;#8217;s desk.&amp;#8221; Imagine nails on a chalkboard. Now you know how I feel. If you and Jen share the desk, it should be &amp;#8220;The copies are on Jen&amp;#8217;s and my desk.&amp;#8221; Or, if that feels too weird for you, just say &amp;#8220;my desk.&amp;#8221; Screw Jen. Or, if you don&amp;#8217;t want to screw Jen, say &amp;#8220;our desk.&amp;#8221; But if you say &amp;#8220;Jen and I&amp;#8217;s,&amp;#8221; I will have to personally drive to your house and give you a Rudolph nose with my red pen. I mean it. &lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116181567124462152?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116181567124462152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116181567124462152' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116181567124462152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116181567124462152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/10/psycho-grammar-nazi-is-back.html' title='Psycho Grammar Nazi is Back'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116166231500632130</id><published>2006-10-23T22:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-23T22:58:35.023-05:00</updated><title type='text'>birthday pics</title><content type='html'>'Kay, sorry these are late, but here are the pictures from Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends decorated by cube as a three-dimensional "blog," including a fake profile, fake entries, and fake comments. Goooood times. I [heart] my friends!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/1600/P1050456.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/320/P1050456.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/1600/P1050458.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/320/P1050458.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/1600/Picture%20101.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/320/Picture%20101.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/1600/Picture%20102.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/320/Picture%20102.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/1600/Picture%20099.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/320/Picture%20099.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116166231500632130?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116166231500632130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116166231500632130' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116166231500632130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116166231500632130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/10/birthday-pics.html' title='birthday pics'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116143816924179009</id><published>2006-10-21T08:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-21T08:43:11.493-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Birthday to me :)</title><content type='html'>List of random things from my birthday yesterday:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Craig singing a death-metal version of "Happy Birthday" to me first thing in the morning&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;blogger cubicle (pictures to come)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;chimichanga with chicken ("I said &lt;em&gt;beef, &lt;/em&gt;you jackass!" - what I wanted Justin to say to our waiter, but he didn't)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;saying goodbye to Teresa :(&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;crying (sad) when I thought Craig had forgotten to get me anything&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;crying again (happy) when he came home with flowers&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;dinner at Molly Woo's (yummmmm)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;haunted "experience" = 2-hr wait in the freezing cold, crazy-fun game of Catchphrase (sort of), talking about "Lost" with fellow addicts, a 5-minute "lame" walk through the woods (that still scared the crap out of me)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Pictures to come. Thanks friends. It was a great one :) &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116143816924179009?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116143816924179009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116143816924179009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116143816924179009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116143816924179009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/10/happy-birthday-to-me.html' title='Happy Birthday to me :)'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116131307102891912</id><published>2006-10-19T21:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-19T21:57:51.043-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Navy sucks</title><content type='html'>I hate Old Navy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't ever sign up for their credit card. No matter how alluring the 10% off promise seems. It's not worth it. I officially hate them now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116131307102891912?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116131307102891912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116131307102891912' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116131307102891912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116131307102891912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/10/old-navy-sucks.html' title='Old Navy sucks'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116129324252778422</id><published>2006-10-19T16:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-20T09:09:55.696-05:00</updated><title type='text'>tearing and mending</title><content type='html'>So I got a new CD last weekend. Bebo Norman. It's my first Bebo CD, and I like it so far. The lyrics aren't super deep, but I can relate to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This one came on last night while I was driving, and it struck a chord (somehow it missed the first few times I heard it). It describes how I feel so often...when I know something's not right inside, and I feel all bunched up and anxious about it, yet I'm not sure how to "fix" it. Usually the only way around it is through it--opening it up and dumping it out (usually in an unintelligible conversation with God, full of nonsense and tears). Somehow things seem clearer after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It reminds me of how my mom used to clean. She had a hard time cleaning just one little thing at a time, so when she decided to clean a room, she really &lt;em&gt;cleaned&lt;/em&gt; it. Reorganized it from scratch. I mean, drawers were emptied, closets gutted, you name it. I'd walk into the room and it would look like a disaster zone--piles everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd be like, "Whoa, what's going on?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She'd reply, "I'm cleaning."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But," I'd protest, "it looks a lot worse than it did before you started...uh...cleaning."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her response? "Sometimes, before you can clean a room, you have to make a bigger mess."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;As a kid, I thought this was nutty. As an adult, however, I see a profound wisdom to this that maybe applies more to the mess of ourselves, the internal stuff, than it does to our spare rooms.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;................................&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;Anyway. Lyrics. (half of them, anyway) &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;................................&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Way We Mend (Bebo Norman)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It's just that some voices remind me I'm not strong enough&lt;br /&gt;To put all my demons behind me and carry this love&lt;br /&gt;But just like an angel of mercy, You take me by the hand and say&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's the way we mend&lt;br /&gt;We tear it all down and we'll start it again&lt;br /&gt;And I don't know how but you find me where we begin&lt;br /&gt;And that's just the way, the way that we mend&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They're pouring out&lt;br /&gt;From my mouth&lt;br /&gt;So many words all spoken wrong&lt;br /&gt;But you come alive&lt;br /&gt;And somehow I find my way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116129324252778422?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116129324252778422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116129324252778422' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116129324252778422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116129324252778422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/10/tearing-and-mending.html' title='tearing and mending'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116110168874731127</id><published>2006-10-17T10:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-17T11:14:48.900-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"Until you find something worth dying for...</title><content type='html'>...you’re not really living.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Embarrassing confession of the day: I’ve been listening to Rebecca St. James…and enjoying it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An old song of hers came up on my iTunes this morning. The lyrics caught my attention and gave me kind of a fire inside. The song is about living beyond yourself…standing up for what you know is true, even if you face adversity because of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lyrics allude to an event recorded in the Old Testament book of Daniel. Historical background: Jerusalem has been destroyed and the Jewish people are in exile in Babylon. Nebuchadnezzar is the Babylonian ruler, and he sets up this gold statue and commands the people to bow down and worship it (I think it might have been a gold statue of himself, but I’m not sure). Anyone who refuses will be thrown into a furnace and burned to death. Harsh dude! Anyway, there are these three Jewish guys who refuse to bow down to the statue because they don’t want to be disloyal to God by worshiping something other than him. So Nebuchadnezzar gets a little pissed (I think the guy had an ego problem) and tells them he’s going to throw them into the furnace; &lt;em&gt;“Then what god will be able to rescue you from my hand?”&lt;/em&gt; (He had power issues, too)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yikes! I’m not sure what I would have done in this situation. I’d probably be more than a little tempted to compromise my convictions once I could feel the heat of that furnace. But what do these three dudes say? I love this! They say, &lt;em&gt;“O Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from your hand, O king. &lt;strong&gt;But even if he does not&lt;/strong&gt;, we want you to know, O king, that &lt;strong&gt;we will not&lt;/strong&gt; serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh, dang. I want that kind of conviction. (Oh, and the ending of the story is really, really cool. If you’re curious, you can read about it in &lt;a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=daniel%203&amp;version=31"&gt;Daniel chapter 3&lt;/a&gt;.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway, I love the song and I love this story. There’s something so cool about living for something beyond yourself…living for a purpose that extends beyond our measly 70-some years on earth, working 9 to 5 and sleeping in on Saturdays. Our lives matter--each one of us--and we get to choose what we'll live them for. Who we'll serve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do you choose?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thought I’d share the lyrics here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"They laugh because they see&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I live for more than me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;They point their fingers,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Push me nearer to the flame&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;They say "We serve no one"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"We just live to please ourselves"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;All men serve something…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Chorus:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Father, carry me high, lift me to the sky&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Let me be where you are&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Hold me, ever so closely, let me know your mercy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Let me be where you are&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;They can laugh, but let them see&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You are the hope in me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;They can point their fingers&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Push me nearer to the flame&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;God, You can save me from the fire&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'm Yours, even if you don't&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Whatever comes I take this vow&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I will never bow…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Chorus&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I will never bow…&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Until you find something&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Worth dying for&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You're not really living&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I will never bow…"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116110168874731127?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116110168874731127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116110168874731127' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116110168874731127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116110168874731127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/10/until-you-find-something-worth-dying.html' title='&quot;Until you find something worth dying for...'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116094768037061270</id><published>2006-10-15T16:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-15T16:28:41.233-05:00</updated><title type='text'>PostSecret</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://postsecret.blogspot.com/"&gt;PostSecret&lt;/a&gt; card of the week:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/1600/british.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/320/british.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/994/593/1600/british.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It made me laugh. I love it when the secret is about someone having fun with life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116094768037061270?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116094768037061270/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116094768037061270' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116094768037061270'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116094768037061270'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/10/postsecret.html' title='PostSecret'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116067893588756345</id><published>2006-10-12T13:28:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-12T13:48:56.026-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Feelin' Groovy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Okay, I need a distraction from work because I'm going crazy. I don't know what my problem is, but it is probably one or more of the following:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;I've gotten used to a certain amount of downtime, so now that it's being eaten up, the busyness will take some getting used to.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;I'm trying to learn a new job, while simultaneously retaining all the responsibilities associated with my current job, and it's hard to have my brain in two places at once.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;I'm eager to move on from managing the TWE, so small TWE-related annoyances feel bigger than they usually would. In general, I'm feeling "done" with TWE. It's kind of like staying in a relationship after your heart isn't in it anymore. Every day feels a little more like torture.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;People who don't know how to follow directions drive me crazy, and they seem plentiful on this project. In fact, it feels kind of like they're multiplying. Like rabbits. Little, blind, retarded, illiterate rabbits.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;When I started typing this post, "Feelin' Groovy" came up on my iTunes. I found this amusing (since I'm feeling a little less than "groovy"), so I thought I'd post the lyrics. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;(Sidenote: Although I think this song is about drugs, I am not condoning the use or distribution of any such drugs as a means of feeling groovy.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;The 59th St. Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy)&lt;br /&gt;-Simon &amp; Garfunkel&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#333333;"&gt;Slow down, you move too fast&lt;br /&gt;You got to make the moment last&lt;br /&gt;Just kickin’ down the cobblestones&lt;br /&gt;Lookin’ for fun and feelin’ groovy&lt;br /&gt;La da da da da da da, feelin’ groovy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello lamppost, whatcha knowin’?&lt;br /&gt;I come to watch your flowers growin’&lt;br /&gt;Ain’tcha got no rhymes for me?&lt;br /&gt;Do do do do, feelin’ groovy&lt;br /&gt;La da da da da da da, feelin’ groovy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got no deeds to do, no promises to keep&lt;br /&gt;I’m dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep&lt;br /&gt;Let the morning time drop all its petals on me&lt;br /&gt;Life, I love you!&lt;br /&gt;All is groovy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ba da da da da da da da da da&lt;br /&gt;Ba da da da da da da da da da&lt;br /&gt;Ba da da da da da da da da da &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116067893588756345?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116067893588756345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116067893588756345' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116067893588756345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116067893588756345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/10/feelin-groovy.html' title='Feelin&apos; Groovy'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116016781951261973</id><published>2006-10-06T15:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-06T15:50:19.526-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Free Music!</title><content type='html'>So Charlie Dodrill has four free downloadable songs on his &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/charliedodrill"&gt;MySpace profile&lt;/a&gt;. No strings attached. &lt;a href="http://www.myspace.com/charliedodrill"&gt;Check him out&lt;/a&gt;!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116016781951261973?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116016781951261973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116016781951261973' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116016781951261973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116016781951261973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/10/free-music.html' title='Free Music!'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-116000589356689098</id><published>2006-10-04T18:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-10-04T18:51:33.650-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Enough Crypticness</title><content type='html'>Did you know that "crypticness" is actually a word? Well, it's not recognized by Webster yet, but the American Heritage Dictionary (which I used to own, until it was stolen from my dorm room [along with all of my textbooks] my freshman year when my roommate forgot to lock the door) vouches for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. I've been meaning to blog a followup post to clarify the recent enigmatic ones, but haven't gotten around to it until now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, the phone call I was waiting for (and finally got last week) was a job offer. An offer for a job I was &lt;em&gt;convinced &lt;/em&gt;that I wanted...until, that is, I decided in my mind that, if they offered it to me, I was going to take it. Then, the doubts came. In floods. So many factors were weighing in (and weighing &lt;em&gt;on &lt;/em&gt;me), but the bottom line is that the decision to take the offer (before, mind you, it was offered to me) was not sitting well with me. It didn't feel right. It was making me sick. Then, when the phone call finally came, I felt more unsure than ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate making decisions based on feelings. I'm a thinker, not a feeler. Right? So I like to believe, anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I obsessed about it endlessly. Talked it over with friends. Talked it over with Jesus. Asked Him to make it clear. (It was &lt;em&gt;so &lt;/em&gt;unclear!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end, the decision was both emotional and rational. In the end, the right choice &lt;em&gt;was &lt;/em&gt;clear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned down the offer. I decided to stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, even though I'm staying where I was/am, the process of...well, &lt;em&gt;processing&lt;/em&gt; through the decision has helped clarify many things for me. What's important to me in a job. What I want to do. Who I want to do it with. (Okay, that sounded bad, but you know what I mean) Where I see myself going and who I want to become. So, even though I'm staying in the same place, I don't feel like I'm staying in the same &lt;em&gt;place. &lt;/em&gt;Most importantly, I want to resurrect the Grammar Nazi. I've missed her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-116000589356689098?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/116000589356689098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=116000589356689098' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116000589356689098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/116000589356689098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/10/enough-crypticness.html' title='Enough Crypticness'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115939012747812856</id><published>2006-09-27T15:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-27T15:48:47.500-05:00</updated><title type='text'>phone call</title><content type='html'>So I got the phone call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seems like things should be clear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So why do they feel more confusing than ever?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115939012747812856?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115939012747812856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115939012747812856' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115939012747812856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115939012747812856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/09/phone-call.html' title='phone call'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115919569659743162</id><published>2006-09-25T09:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-25T11:48:37.306-05:00</updated><title type='text'>junk, comfort, and pressing on</title><content type='html'>So it's time to quote &lt;a href="http://joshcoy.blogspot.com/2006/08/way-i-see-it.html"&gt;Josh's blog&lt;/a&gt; again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is from a Starbuck's cup:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;The Way I See It #70&lt;br /&gt;It's difficult for people to get rid of junk. They get attached to things and let them define who they are. If there's one thing I've learned in this business, it's that you are what you can't let go of."&lt;br /&gt;-Brian Scudamore, Founder/CEO of 1-800-GOT-JUNK? &lt;/blockquote&gt;I read this blog almost a month ago when he first posted it (*ahem* time to update your blog mister *ahem*), but for some reason it struck me in a new way this morning. I've been struggling lately with feeling pretty blah about life. I've been in functional-mode for awhile, and struggling with not knowing how to get out of it. Part of the problem, I think, is my attachment to comfort. Most of the time I'd rather be comfortable than anything else. So, over the long run, I get exactly what I want, eh? A life that's comfortable, but fairly blah. In my heart, I want more than this, but when it comes to my moment-by-moment choices, I usually opt to just stay where I am. Because it's easier. Because it's comfortable. I'd rather hold onto junk than give it up for something better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like Sara Groves in that song "Painting Pictures of Egypt":&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;em&gt;The past is so tangible, I know it by heart&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And familiar things are never easy to discard&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I was dying for some freedom and now I hesitate to go&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am caught between the promise and the things I know&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;I just thought of a verse in Philippians that's part of tomorrow night's Bible study passage: &lt;em&gt;"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me."&lt;/em&gt; (3:12) Wow. I really love the way Paul says that. Not just pressing on for the sake of pressing on, as though perseverence is a virtue in its own right, and an end in itself. No--he's pressing on to take hold of something...and that something is the very thing for which Christ took hold of &lt;em&gt;him&lt;/em&gt;. It's as though he's saying, "Christ thought I was worth fighting for, so I'm going to fight too. He gave his all so that I could have heaven...so that I could have eternal life. So I guess I can give my all for that same purpose." (note: I'm nothing close to a Bible scholar, so I don't even know if that's a correct interpretation, so take it with a layman's grain of salt, 'kay?) That's pretty motivating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't really have a big conclusion, so I'm not sure how to end this. I'll probably always struggle w/ my laziness and desire for comfort, but it's cool to know that God gives me another option, and that he gives me a model and a goal for pressing on. I can reminisce about "Egypt" forever if I want to, but there's a promise ahead of me if I'm willing to pursue it. Pretty sweet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115919569659743162?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115919569659743162/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115919569659743162' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115919569659743162'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115919569659743162'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/09/junk-comfort-and-pressing-on.html' title='junk, comfort, and pressing on'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115894652346906075</id><published>2006-09-22T12:12:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-22T12:35:23.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today has been pretty quiet. I've been feeling pretty functional lately, but I just got caught up on reading everyone's blogs, and now I'm feeling contemplative. I'm still waiting for a phone call (seems like I'm &lt;em&gt;always &lt;/em&gt;waiting these days). I'm kind of tired of waiting. And while I'm really dreading the conversation that will need to happen after that phone call comes, I am (for the moment) done obsessing over what I will say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was just thinking about how I used to be a grammar nazi. A crazy, anal grammar nerd. Words were an integral part of me--they were what I did and what I loved. It's sad (and a bit scary) to notice that slipping away. Shannon correcting my grammar. Not that I mind being corrected, but it is eye-opening to realize that something that used to come naturally to me, used to be instinctual, now takes effort. That really bothers me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have never been a big fan of change. Especially being in this in-between place. But I have a good feeling about this potential new chapter. Especially the possibility of reclaiming my title of psycho grammar girl. Blowing the dust off of my Chicago Manual of Style and uncapping my red pen. I want typos to tremble in fear when they see me coming. I want to see terror in the eyes of misplaced modifiers. I want disagreeing subjects and verbs to stop dead in their tracks, knowing they've been caught and that there's nowhere to run.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I have some studying to do first. And there's still that phone call.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115894652346906075?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115894652346906075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115894652346906075' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115894652346906075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115894652346906075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/09/today-has-been-pretty-quiet.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115835408886089891</id><published>2006-09-15T15:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-16T10:59:27.886-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why the McGraw-Hill maintenance people hate us</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;Because &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/1600/P1050261.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/200/P1050261.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; when we do birthdays,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/1600/P1050262.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/200/P1050262.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; we do them all the way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/1600/P1050264.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/200/P1050264.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Happy birthday, Teresa!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/1600/P1050265.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115835408886089891?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115835408886089891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115835408886089891' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115835408886089891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115835408886089891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/09/why-mcgraw-hill-maintenance-people.html' title='Why the McGraw-Hill maintenance people hate us'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115812217000684249</id><published>2006-09-12T23:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-12T23:36:10.090-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Feelings</title><content type='html'>Am I emotional? Not sure. For the longest time, I would have said "no," but I'm starting to wonder. I've always felt that my emotional reactions to crises are sometimes disconnected and distant. "Cool-headed" and "logical," even. Really, though? Maybe "numb" is a better word for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read this in &lt;u&gt;Running With Scissors&lt;/u&gt;, a memoir I recently finished. I almost cried, it sounded so familiar (see, I &lt;em&gt;am &lt;/em&gt;emotional!):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"My face became like the heating coil on the stove, and I trembled&lt;br /&gt;with hatred. And then just as suddenly, I felt absolutely nothing. It was&lt;br /&gt;like a door quickly opened, showing me what horrible feelings I had inside,&lt;br /&gt;and then slammed shut again so I wouldn't have to actually face them. In&lt;br /&gt;many ways I felt I was living the life of a doctor in the ER. I was&lt;br /&gt;learning to block out all emotions in order to deal with the situation.&lt;br /&gt;Whether that situation involved a mother who was constantly having&lt;br /&gt;nervous breakdowns or the death of the family cat by laundry hamper."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;I don't mean to overdramatize, but this gave me some insight into how I sometimes feel (or don't feel, whatever the case may be). Eye-opening.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115812217000684249?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115812217000684249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115812217000684249' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115812217000684249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115812217000684249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/09/feelings.html' title='Feelings'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115798550191849942</id><published>2006-09-11T09:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-11T09:38:21.990-05:00</updated><title type='text'>great weekend</title><content type='html'>What relaxing and much-needed weekend. I think I've shaken this funk that I've been in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some things I'm realizing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Choosing against your feelings is really, really hard. Knowing that your feelings are lying to you doesn't make the choice any easier.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Being honest about your failures and living under grace is also really, really hard. Being real and living authentically takes courage ("balls," if you will).  I like to beat the grace-drum, but this weekend I was reminded of how hard this can be. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I need God a lot more than I thought I did. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115798550191849942?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115798550191849942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115798550191849942' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115798550191849942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115798550191849942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/09/great-weekend.html' title='great weekend'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115786022657456716</id><published>2006-09-09T22:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-09T22:50:26.596-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Go Bucks!</title><content type='html'>&lt;u&gt;Final Score&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohio State: 24&lt;br /&gt;Texas: 7&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;Quote of the Night&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Bevo. It's what's for dinner."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/1600/bevo.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/320/bevo.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115786022657456716?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115786022657456716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115786022657456716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115786022657456716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115786022657456716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/09/go-bucks.html' title='Go Bucks!'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115772374163019028</id><published>2006-09-08T08:50:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-08T08:55:41.660-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Free Derek Webb CD!!</title><content type='html'>Um, dude, this is no joke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Derek Webb is giving away his new(est) CD, &lt;em&gt;Mockingbird&lt;/em&gt;, for free. Download it at &lt;a href="http://www.freederekwebb.com"&gt;www.freederekwebb.com&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check it out. I love this dude's music.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115772374163019028?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115772374163019028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115772374163019028' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115772374163019028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115772374163019028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/09/free-derek-webb-cd.html' title='Free Derek Webb CD!!'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115771890770599555</id><published>2006-09-08T07:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-08T07:35:07.706-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lost Season 2</title><content type='html'>Blockbuster finally had the 1st DVD in yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched all 4 episodes in one sitting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hopelessly addicted.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115771890770599555?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115771890770599555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115771890770599555' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115771890770599555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115771890770599555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/09/lost-season-2.html' title='Lost Season 2'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115759872232002940</id><published>2006-09-06T21:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-06T22:12:02.346-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shout out to a stranger's blog</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&amp;friendID=75509408&amp;amp;blogID=158585741&amp;MyToken=75cc5050-66c4-4b00-9a0e-916177e177e5"&gt;This girl that I don't even know&lt;/a&gt; said it so perfectly:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"I'm excited to see what God has for tomorrow...how he redeems the brokenness all around me into something far more beautiful than what I ever thought to ask Him for..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This idea of redeeming what is broken...has been coming up all around me recently. A song I heard in the car today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"So lay down the sword &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And put away the doctrine &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Love a little more, love a little more &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;‘Cause everybody’s broken..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And something Bev said to me awhile ago...She had just finished pointing out a character issue I have...and, knowing that I'm a mel-head, she qualified her observation with another piece of wisdom that I've held in my pocket ever since: "Don't go to the opposite extreme, now...God doesn't want to change your tendency, &lt;em&gt;He wants to redeem it&lt;/em&gt;..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This reminds me of Craig's stepfather, Jim. He's an ordinary man. Vietnam veteran, a pretty rough-around-the-edges guy. He was the one who taught Craig "guy" things as a kid. How to fix a car, etc. He's retired now, and one of his favorite hobbies is picking up discarded machinery from the side of the road and fixing it up in his garage. Everytime we visit, there's a new piece of soon-to-be-revitalized junk in the garage: a washing machine, a tractor, a lawnmower, etc. Every time Craig and I are driving and we see someone's discarded refrigerator (or whatever) by the side of the road, Craig will say, "We should take that. Jim would fix it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess this is kind of like God's business--it's what he's all about: buying back our broken, garage-sale junk (this who-would-ever-want-this-piece-of-crap-broken-toaster-but-I'm-going-to-put-a-price-on-it-and-see-what-happens junk)...and somehow, miraculously, magically, wonderfully, turning it into something beautiful. That's the business God is in. I don't get it, but it makes me so glad, because I'm one of those broken things that he's bought and is in the process of turning into something worthwhile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, Jesus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115759872232002940?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115759872232002940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115759872232002940' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115759872232002940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115759872232002940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/09/shout-out-to-strangers-blog.html' title='Shout out to a stranger&apos;s blog'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115746307155055929</id><published>2006-09-05T08:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-05T08:51:02.136-05:00</updated><title type='text'>the first day back at work after a long weekend always sucks</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I must say…I hate getting spam email, but of all the random crap that shows up in my Inbox, this one makes me laugh the most:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/1600/untitled.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/400/untitled.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I don’t know what my problem is today, but I’m in the crappiest of crappy moods. I mean, grrrr! So if I’ve been mean to you today, I’m sorry. It’s not you. I don’t like myself when I’m like this, either. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;And can you believe that the Crocodile Hunter died? I’m sad. We’ll miss you, Steve. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115746307155055929?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115746307155055929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115746307155055929' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115746307155055929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115746307155055929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/09/first-day-back-at-work-after-long.html' title='the first day back at work after a long weekend always sucks'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115713253667741213</id><published>2006-09-01T12:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-09-01T12:42:16.700-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Has it really been 3+ years already?</title><content type='html'>It hit me recently that the kids to whom I (student) taught 9th grade English are just now beginning their first semesters of college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has that much time really passed already? Three years and almost 4 months ago I graduated from college. Shortly after that I got married. Shortly after that we moved to Columbus and started a brand new leg of our life-journey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lot has changed since then. &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; have changed a lot since then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I heard this song again today, and it made me smile and think of how different my perspective is now, compared to when I was in college.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bolded lines are my favorites. Not that I'm a Shakespeare "expert," but I did study Shakespeare, and the things I studied and loved about language used to define me quite a bit more than they do now. Makes me smile. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;After years of expensive education&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A car full of books and anticipation&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;I'm an expert on Shakespeare and that's a hell of a lot&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;But the world don't need scholars as much as I thought...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(From "Twentysomething" by Jamie Cullum)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115713253667741213?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115713253667741213/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115713253667741213' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115713253667741213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115713253667741213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/09/has-it-really-been-3-years-already.html' title='Has it really been 3+ years already?'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115707227155023794</id><published>2006-08-31T19:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-31T19:57:51.550-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"unfortunately"</title><content type='html'>And while I'm at it (I'm in a ranting mood tonight)...I discovered a new pet peeve today. People who say "unfortunately" in friendly, casual situations. That word should be reserved for business situations, when you're politely relaying impersonal bad news. If you and I are friends, and we have plans to get coffee together, don't call me and say "Unfortunately, I won't be able to make it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You sound like a salesman. It makes me feel distant from you and like your heart is detached from the conversation. It's right up there with "I regret to inform you" and "This is a mutually disadvantageous situation." Talk to me like a friend, not like a collections officer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks. And now back to your regularly scheduled programming.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115707227155023794?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115707227155023794/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115707227155023794' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115707227155023794'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115707227155023794'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/08/unfortunately.html' title='&quot;unfortunately&quot;'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115707155531329215</id><published>2006-08-31T19:45:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-31T19:49:20.226-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunset Negril</title><content type='html'>Anyone heard of Sunset Negril? Jamaican restaurant in The Continent on Busch Blvd? Don't go there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the scenario:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Local radio station is promoting this great deal: 1/2-priced (or less) restaurant gift certificates. Spend $15 or $25 on a gift certificate that's worth $50 at the restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Group of work friends decides to get a gang together for some cheap eats. Buys 3 gift certificates. Oh, one catch: they expire at the end of the month, so better plan immediately. Date is set: Monday, 8/28.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday comes...Whoops! Guess what? Sunset Negril is closed on Monday. Weird? Yes. Inconvenient? Yes. Catastrophe? No. Reschedule for Tuesday. Still have about 10 people on board.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday comes...We get to the restaurant and guess what? Sunset Negril has a sign taped to the door: Open Thursday thru Saturday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gift certificates expire Thursday. Guess we're rescheduling for Thursday--the next and last possible opportunity to use the gift certificates that we paid money for. Seeming less and less like a "great deal" every second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday comes...people have other plans (of course they do--it's the last minute AND the 2nd time we've rescheduled). Three of us are on board. One brings her roommate. How we're going to spend $150, we don't know, but darnit, we're going to have fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, but it gets better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We get to the restaurant...and guess what? They're only serving two items tonight: Jerk chicken and wings. Can we please have an extension on the expiration date? &lt;em&gt;Sorry, the owner isn't here. You'll have to come back tomorrow and ask him.&lt;/em&gt; Okay, fine. We're going to use one of the gift certificates tonight. Load us up with jerk chicken and wings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waitress comes back...&lt;em&gt;Sorry, wings won't be ready for another hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you joking? This must be a joke, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long story short (I know, too late): The four of us stay, have jerk chicken, salad, and a couple drinks (which were NOT covered by the gift certificate, by the way). The owner (who suddenly "showed up") granted us a week extension on the remaining two gift certificates. Which still means we can only use them tomorrow, Saturday, or next Thursday (since, if you'll recall, they're not open Sunday through Thursday).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry, but I'm not falling for any more "great deals" for awhile. Janky, non-helpful, and more-hassle-than-it's-worth. That's how I feel about Sunset Negril.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I blow my nose at you...I fart in your general direction..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115707155531329215?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115707155531329215/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115707155531329215' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115707155531329215'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115707155531329215'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/08/sunset-negril.html' title='Sunset Negril'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115680286509192453</id><published>2006-08-28T17:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-28T17:07:45.106-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Jury Duty</title><content type='html'>Got the notice in the mail today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;End of September.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't believe it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess there's a first (and, I hope, last) time for everything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115680286509192453?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115680286509192453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115680286509192453' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115680286509192453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115680286509192453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/08/jury-duty.html' title='Jury Duty'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115651543353907948</id><published>2006-08-25T09:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-25T09:17:13.613-05:00</updated><title type='text'>auntie</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=Section1&gt;  &lt;p class=MsoNormal&gt;&lt;font size=1 color="#333333" face=Helvetica&gt;&lt;span style='font-size:9.0pt;font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333'&gt;Brian and Sam are expecting. My little brother&amp;#8217;s going to be a dad. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115651543353907948?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115651543353907948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115651543353907948' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115651543353907948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115651543353907948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/08/auntie.html' title='auntie'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115575996692840647</id><published>2006-08-16T15:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-16T15:27:41.030-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just tell me what to do!</title><content type='html'>As I was leaving work today, I encountered one of my pet peeves: an officer standing at the corner, looking at the cars. Why did this annoy me? Because his neon green vest and daily existence at this corner indicated a specific purpose--directing traffic. But he was not directing anything. He was watching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pulled up to the corner and looked at him, waiting for some...oh, I don't know...direction? Nothing. I eventually took matters into my own hands and pulled out when there was a break in traffic. After turning, I re-evaluated the situation and laughed to myself. Why did that annoy me? Because I am a direction-seeker. Some people resent being told what to do. I love it. It gives me a sense of structure, a sense of security. A sense of knowing-the-right-thing-to-do, so that when I do it, I don't have any doubts about whether or not I've done the right thing. This morning, I said something like this to my friend Heather. Something like, "I need structure. I need to know what's going on, what to do." Know what she said to me? "Yeah, but you're a legalist." She was smiling. Reluctantly, I had to smile too. Just another reminder of my silly tendency and my need to lighten up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Structure is good. In general, it helps plans go more smoothly. Children need structure to feel safe. But I am not a child anymore. Real life is messy, and answers are often less than clear-cut. There is no rule book. Some call the Bible a rule book, I call it a principle book. Following God is more like following a person than following a printout from mapquest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dangit. I love mapquest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another short quote from Derek Webb. Song's called "New Law." Tone is tongue-in-cheek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Don't teach me about politics and government, just tell me who to vote for&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't teach me about truth and beauty, just label my music&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Don't teach me how to live like a free man, just give me a new law&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I don't want to know if the answers aren't easy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So just bring it down from the mountain to me&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I want a new law..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115575996692840647?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115575996692840647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115575996692840647' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115575996692840647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115575996692840647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/08/just-tell-me-what-to-do.html' title='Just tell me what to do!'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115567788979420138</id><published>2006-08-15T16:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T17:14:57.446-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lover</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I’ve been reading and reflecting a lot on Philippians 2:5–11 lately. Here’s how it reads in the NLT:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Christ’s Humility and Exaltation&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;em&gt;Your attitude should be the same that Christ Jesus had. Though he was God, he did not demand and cling to his rights as God. He made himself nothing; he took the humble position of a slave and appeared in human form. And in human form he obediently humbled himself even further by dying a criminal's death on a cross. Because of this, God raised him up to the heights of heaven and gave him a name that is above every other name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee will bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This passage has always been for me a startling picture of God’s love. The transcendent God of heaven coming down to us--not down to the suburbs, but down to the ghetto. Born in a dirty barn. Executed like the worst of criminals. He gave up a pretty plush pad in heaven for that. Not because he had to, but because he chose to. Because he loved us. Loved &lt;em&gt;you.&lt;/em&gt; Because he wanted to set us free.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Then, this morning I heard this song by Derek Webb. It expresses a lot of what I feel about this passage in Philippians. It describes God, in the person of Christ, as a Lover. Passionate in his pursuit of his beloved--pursuing her, and pursuing the very best &lt;em&gt;for &lt;/em&gt;her. That beloved is us. It's you. Do you know Jesus this way? I don't, at least not much of the time. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;The 4th and 5th verses are my favorites. The 4th because it paints the degrading humiliation of Christ's death in a way that is embarrassingly, poignantly real to me. And in the midst of it all, that he was thinking about defending and rescuing me...it's almost too much to take. And the 5th verse describes God's grace in words that anyone can understand.  It's like a party where he buys all the rounds and none of your history matters anymore. That's grace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I audio-posted the song below this one. Probably not exactly legal, and the sound quality's not the greatest, but you'll get the gist. If they shut me down soon, you'll know why :). Here are they lyrics:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Lover&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;words and music by derek webb&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Like a man comes to an altar, I came into this town&lt;br /&gt;With the world upon my shoulders and promises passed down&lt;br /&gt;And I went into the water and my Father, He was pleased&lt;br /&gt;I built it and I’ll tear it down so you will be set free&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;But I found thieves and salesmen living in my Father’s house&lt;br /&gt;I know how they got in here and I know how to get ‘em out&lt;br /&gt;I’m turning this place over from floor to balcony&lt;br /&gt;And then just like these doves and sheep you will be set free&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve always been a lover from before I drew a breath&lt;br /&gt;Some things I loved easy and some I loved to death&lt;br /&gt;Because love’s no politician, it listens carefully&lt;br /&gt;Of those who come I can’t lose one, so you will be set free&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But go on and take my picture, go on and make me up&lt;br /&gt;I’ll still be your defender, you’ll be my missing son&lt;br /&gt;And I’ll send out an army just to bring you back to me&lt;br /&gt;Because regardless of your brother’s lies you will be set free&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am my beloved’s and my beloved’s mine&lt;br /&gt;So you bring all your history and I’ll bring the bread and wine&lt;br /&gt;And we’ll have us a party where all the drinks are on me&lt;br /&gt;Then as surely as the rising sun you will be set free&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115567788979420138?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115567788979420138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115567788979420138' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115567788979420138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115567788979420138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/08/lover.html' title='Lover'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115567703191694852</id><published>2006-08-15T16:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-15T16:23:51.950-05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="audblog"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/131226/398146.mp3" class="audLink"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.audioblogger.com/media/images/audioblogger.gif" class="audImg"border="0" alt="this is an audio post - click to play" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115567703191694852?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115567703191694852/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115567703191694852' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115567703191694852'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115567703191694852'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/08/this-is-audio-post-click-to-play.html' title=''/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115507821700939468</id><published>2006-08-08T17:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-08T21:40:06.706-05:00</updated><title type='text'>This cracks me up</title><content type='html'>How do you know who your real friends are? They're the ones who will get out of the A/C into the blazing heat to scrape a foreign substance off your tire (or hold the camera to capture it on film--Shannon). The jury's still out on whether it was elephant poop (my vote) or a tar-covered sock (Libby). Either way, kudos to Libby and Teresa, and Shannon the photographer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/1600/Picture%20048.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/320/Picture%20048.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/1600/Picture%20049.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/320/Picture%20049.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115507821700939468?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115507821700939468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115507821700939468' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115507821700939468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115507821700939468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/08/this-cracks-me-up.html' title='This cracks me up'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115504897379332588</id><published>2006-08-08T09:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-08T09:56:13.863-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Maintaining...</title><content type='html'>...in a positive sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://joshcoy.blogspot.com/2006/08/maintaining.html"&gt;I thought this was profound&lt;/a&gt;. Sounds like Josh just stole it from Oswald Chambers (one of my favorite old dead guys), but still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It hit me--what am I prioritizing? What &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; matters?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115504897379332588?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115504897379332588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115504897379332588' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115504897379332588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115504897379332588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/08/maintaining.html' title='Maintaining...'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115447422879857242</id><published>2006-08-01T17:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-08-01T22:26:16.076-05:00</updated><title type='text'>"A pair of what? Pair of ducks?"</title><content type='html'>So I was thinking today. Well, I've been thinking a lot lately, mostly about guidelines and schedules, but this evening I was thinking some deep, non-work-related thoughts, trying to wrap my brain around some stuff that I've known for awhile but just today struck me in a new way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spiritual truths are often paradoxical, full of apparent contradictions. Not that spiritual truth is inherently non-understandable, standing contrary to reason or logic--I don't believe this at all--but rather, that it can often make us pause and scratch our heads. &lt;a href="http://www.xenos.org/teachings/topical/wisdom/gary/wisdom-1.htm"&gt;Quote&lt;/a&gt; I read today: "Paradoxical statements arrest our attention because of their apparent contradiction, and motivate us to &lt;strong&gt;resolve &lt;/strong&gt;the contradiction by learning and reflection (i.e....questioning our own presuppositions)." This is the difference between a biblical paradox and a Buddhist "what's the sound of one hand clapping" kind of paradox. One is a means to freeing yourself from rational thought, the other presupposes rationality and an absolute truth at the end of the head-scratching road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway. That was not my deep thought. (If you follow the link, you'll see that I stole that one from Gary DeLashmutt) That was the disclaimer to my deep thought. For those of you still reading, that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My deep thought was about one spiritual paradox in particular. The Bible describes God as being both transcendent and immanent. In other words, God is described as being objectively holy, separate, surpassing knowledge, "above and independent of the material universe" (thank you, dictionary.com)...while, at the same time, being subjectively near, within, and personally involved with people. It says that both things are true of God, and have always been true of him. That's hard for me to wrap my mind around. It seems that most of us tend to lean toward one of these attributes or the other (and probably flip-flop back and forth between them). I can relate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes, God seems transcendent, but not immanent. This makes him seem cold, distant, indifferent, and disinterested. Sure, maybe he's big and powerful, but he's probably not very nice. Any interaction I might have with this kind of God would be mainly to appease, but ultimately I'd probably want to avoid him. Like the scowling, impossible-to-please father of the rich kid in [insert movie title here]. Stay out of his way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then, at other times, God seems immanent but not transcendent. This makes him seem warm, friendly, and casual. This image is more like the cool older brother who you love to hang out with because he's so fun and laid-back and lets you get away with stuff that your mom would never approve of. He's personable and fun to be with, but he's not really very god-like. My interactions with him would probably be like most of my interactions with friends--genuinely enjoyable, but also limited. I don't hestitate to share personal things or needs with those I'm close to, but I'm also not surprised if they don't have the ability to fix my problem. I don't expect my friends to be all-powerful, I just want them to listen and care. Sometimes I have the same expectations of God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the thing that totally blows my mind is that the Bible describes God as both. &lt;strong&gt;Both. &lt;/strong&gt;Seriously, think about that for a minute. What would that kind of God be like? What would my interactions with that kind of God look like? What would that kind of God ultimately want from &lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big questions. I certainly don't have the answers all figured out, but I've seen this paradox fleshed out in one place--the life of Jesus. He was unarguably immanent--he hung out with all kinds of people and got down into the commonplace, dirty-knees reality of human existence. He touched people, welcomed them, and they were irresistibly drawn to him. The majority of people think of Jesus this way and wouldn't deny that he was good and lived a life that demonstrated that he cared about people and about their needs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if your view of Jesus stops there, it stops short of the biblical account of who he was and what his purpose was. Jesus attracted a lot of people, but he also royally pissed a lot of people off. Why? Partly because of his claim to be God. He also challenged the bad theology of the current religious people who had rewritten the Old Testament laws to justify their oppression of people and their own self-indulgence. But anyway, the point is that Jesus polarized people's thinking and made outrageous claims that ultimately caused them accuse him of blasphemy and kill him. Seriously, read the book of John--what you'll find is not exactly the sheep-petting, doe-eyed Jesus that most of us remember from Sunday school. Jesus didn't claim that his purpose was to come and teach people how to live good lives and be nice to each other--he claimed that his purpose was to die to pay the penalty for human sin and rebellion against God, to stand in our place and take the punishment we deserved but could never pay ourselves. This is a glimpse of God's transcendence--he unapologetically recognized our sin, the broken, helpless state we were in, and he boldly stepped in as the only one perfect enough to solve the problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, enough rambling. In the process of thinking about this paradox of love and justice, humanity and deity, nearness and separateness, I ended up with a question. Who in the world would imagine a God like this? If God is (as many people say) a fabrication, an imaginary deity who exists only in the minds of people who created him out of their desire to feel important and create a sense of purpose for their lives...if this is true, who would have come up with a God like &lt;em&gt;this&lt;/em&gt;? A God whose ways run so contradictory to our own "default" way of operating? A God who is perfectly transcendent, self-existent and perfect, and yet chooses to come down to my level...meet me where I am, speak to the need inside that hurts the most? A God whose standard is perfection (transcendence), and yet let his heart break for us in our inability to meet it and chose instead to come down from heaven, become a man, ultimately to suffer and die just so that we could have a way to come back into a relationship with him (immanence)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were to fabricate a god for myself, I don't think he would look like this. This is way too outside of my frame of reference. My hand-crafted god would probably end up looking a lot more like me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115447422879857242?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115447422879857242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115447422879857242' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115447422879857242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115447422879857242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/08/pair-of-what-pair-of-ducks.html' title='&quot;A pair of what? Pair of ducks?&quot;'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115374887948680943</id><published>2006-07-24T08:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-24T08:54:57.250-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Seven vs. Eight</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="Section1"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;Yesterday afternoon was a big softball day—the most anticipated game of the year. We (technically, “they.” I’m just a spectator) played Seven (named in honor of the movie Fletch), our old team from which we branched off this season and from whom we received our team name—Eight. If ever a rivalry was to be had in a church softball league, this was it. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;The sky was mostly clear, the temperature hovered in the high 70s. Perfect. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;There was much good-natured trash talking in the first inning, but both teams’ competitive natures took over after the first couple runs were scored. Silence fell over the diamond, and the players’ faces were set like flint. Seven was in the lead, and going strong. By the middle of the game (I don’t remember inning numbers or miniscule details—I’ll never be a sports reporter), the score was 6-2, Seven in the lead by four runs. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;But Eight was not going to take it lying down! An amazing turnaround happened around the 5&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; or 6&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; inning—Eight scored four runs and tied the game! No outs! We were going strong! Then, somehow, we were ahead! Eight took a commanding lead and finished the top of the seventh inning with eight runs! The score was 8-6 at the bottom of the seventh. Seven came up to bat, and the tension was high. Could we hold them? Could they come back and win it? It was anyone’s game. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;One out. Two outs. A couple base hits, but still no runs from Seven. Then, at the crack of the bat, Jarett shot off of third base and headed for home. Scored. The ball was tossed in from the outfield to tag another runner out, and that was the end of the game. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;Final score: Eight 8, Seven 7. Seriously, I couldn’t have made up a more perfect score.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;Great job, everyone! Don’t worry, Seven--there’s always next year. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115374887948680943?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115374887948680943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115374887948680943' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115374887948680943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115374887948680943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/07/seven-vs-eight.html' title='Seven vs. Eight'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115331740543886995</id><published>2006-07-19T08:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-19T08:56:45.456-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pet Peeves</title><content type='html'>(I tried to post this yesterday, but for some reason it didn’t work. Trying again.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To quote Meredith Brooks: I hate the world today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In celebration of this day, I’m going to share some of my extra-special pet peeves. Enjoy :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;People who come into a public restroom and take the stall right next to you, even though the rest of the bathroom is empty.  This pet peeve gets bumped up a level when that person sits next to you and then goes #2.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;People who change lanes without signaling.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Bumping into people while coming around a corner or opening a door. Not that it’s anyone’s fault, but it just annoys me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Talking on the phone. When I was a teenager, I loved the sound of the phone ringing. Now it makes me want to smash something.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mouth noises.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Dirty sinks.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Passive-aggressiveness.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Unclear expectations.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Mean people.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Slow drivers.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Slow computers.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;When you’re standing in an extra long line at the store, and an additional register opens up, but the people who rush to the new line are the ones at the end of the extra long line, even though they’ve been waiting the shortest amount of time. That’s not fair.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;That’s about it for now.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115331740543886995?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115331740543886995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115331740543886995' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115331740543886995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115331740543886995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/07/pet-peeves.html' title='Pet Peeves'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115296333168560782</id><published>2006-07-15T06:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-15T06:35:31.710-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mmmm....Blizzard....</title><content type='html'>So, yesterday I had a Dairy Queen experience that made me scratch my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have one of those reusable coupon cards that has various deals at various businesses listed on the back. One of those deals was for a Dairy Queen near us: buy one blizzard, get a 16 oz blizzard for 99 cents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, yesterday it was about a million degrees, so we decided to go to DQ. We had a brief discussion in the car about the specifics of the deal: "Does it say what size you have to &lt;em&gt;buy, &lt;/em&gt;or just which size is 99 cents?" "Is a 16 oz a small?" "Probably," we reasoned. These deals typically are for the cheapest size, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So we get up there, order two small blizzards, and she gives us our total ($5 and something). (sidenote: If I'd been driving, I probably would have told her about the coupon card when we ordered. Craig, however, thought it would simplify things to have the conversation at the window. Probably not a good idea.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We pulled up to the window, and through the window I could see her making our blizzards. me: "Are those 16 oz cups? They look smaller than 16 oz..." Craig: "Maybe it's by weight and not by volume?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, she opens the window and gives us our total again. Craig hands her the card and some money. She looks at the card and says, "Oh...actually, this card is for the 16 oz blizzard. That's the next size bigger." She asked us if we wanted her to make new ones, but that seemed like a waste of time and ice cream, so we said no. Still confused by the logic of it, I leaned over and asked, "Sooo...the smaller size is going to be more money?"  She kind of looked at me quizzically and said, "Well...the coupon...it's for the 16 oz size...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right. Okay, I just wanted to make sure I had it right. That we were paying &lt;em&gt;more &lt;/em&gt;money for &lt;em&gt;less &lt;/em&gt;ice cream. Just checking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The funny part is that I know that I think just as illogically a lot of the time. Craig even asked me, "If you were working here and in her position right now, what would &lt;em&gt;you &lt;/em&gt;have done?" Right. Gone by the letter of the coupon, not the spirit of the coupon, I'm sure. Craig joked, "She's in high school--she's not taking that class, 'Thinking Outside of the Box.'..." And, as we all know, I didn't take that class either :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, on the other side of it, it was kind of funny. That coupon card cost me $10. So far, we've only &lt;em&gt;lost &lt;/em&gt;money with it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115296333168560782?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115296333168560782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115296333168560782' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115296333168560782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115296333168560782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/07/mmmmblizzard.html' title='Mmmm....Blizzard....'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115289870181216456</id><published>2006-07-14T12:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-14T12:38:21.873-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Friday</title><content type='html'>It's Friday. For some reason, I feel the need to update. It's been kind of a heavy-duty week, in terms of things happening in our lives and in the lives of people around us. The weekend is almost here and I'm tired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Craig and I are going car shopping tonight. That's both fun/exciting and draining. The other day we spent 3 hours at the dealership. Hopefully we can spend less time there tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Obie needs more surgery. That's a story in itself. Short version: the screw that the surgeon put in his ankle joint is bent and the ligaments aren't healing, so he's eventually going to need more surgery to permanently fix his joint. We're obviously asking a lot of questions and trying to get the hospital to take some responsibility for this, because this "additonal" surgery sounds like something they should have done when they cut him open the first time. In the meantime, however, Obie's walking around just fine and it doesn't seem to be bothering him at all yet, which is good. And his broken fibula is all healed, which is good. I'll post an updated picture of him soon. His hair is almost all grown back and he's back to his old self :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115289870181216456?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115289870181216456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115289870181216456' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115289870181216456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115289870181216456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/07/friday.html' title='Friday'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115249884902669475</id><published>2006-07-09T21:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-09T21:34:09.050-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Great Weekend</title><content type='html'>Friday (since, thanks to Moxy Fruvous and the King of Spain, Friday is &lt;em&gt;part&lt;/em&gt; of the weekend):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;worked&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;got news that the hubby convinced work to give him the day off Saturday (yay!)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;drove up to Ann Arbor with the hubby&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;hung out with grandma for an hour or so, had a very interesting conversation with her about the "emerging church" movement--wow&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Saturday:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;went to cousin's graduation party&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;had a blast&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;got to be in one place with all 3 siblings at once (the first time since our wedding)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;had a blast&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;saw other random family and friends-of-family&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;had a blast&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sunday: &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;had great walk and talk with Adrienne &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;watched a movie by myself in the afternoon&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;took a nap&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;went to Anne's party&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;laughed a lot&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;Below is my favorite picture from the party on Saturday. Craig took it (he really has an eye for photography). It's my brother Scott (16 years old) and my sister Gracie. They're the two "drama queen" siblings. Scott was kind of pouting about something, and Gracie went over to console him. For only being 6 1/2, she's very grown-up and serious, and I love the way this picture captures both of their personalities:&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/1600/P1040845.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/294/1516/320/P1040845.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115249884902669475?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115249884902669475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115249884902669475' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115249884902669475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115249884902669475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/07/great-weekend.html' title='Great Weekend'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115223636061836118</id><published>2006-07-06T20:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-06T20:43:03.996-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Checkers</title><content type='html'>Two years ago, during a game of checkers, I saw a glimpse of myself in a four-year-old girl. It brought me to a stunning realization of my own ignorance and foolishness when relating to God, as well as the loving patience He shows when relating to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The little girl was the daughter of a friend of mine, and I was at her house watching the kids. Caylee and I were playing checkers. Being four years old, Caylee didn't really understand the game of checkers, but she really wanted to play. I coached her through the general rules, which (I've got to hand it to her) she remembered about 1/2 the time. But as hard as she tried, she could never quite see the big picture. A couple different times, I deliberately put myself in position to be double- or triple- jumped, thinking she'd enjoy the thrill of making that kind of move. However, even with a killer move like that right in front of her, she could never see it. So, I'd point it out to her, exactly where she could move her piece if she wanted to remove two or three of my pieces from the board. Once I showed her, she'd grin with excitement and make the move. What really cracked me up, however, was the smug way she would gloat afterward. "I just took three of your guuuuuuys...that's cuz I'm good and you're not...You're gonna loooose...." Who did she think she was kidding? I stifled back a smile and feigned humble acknowledgment of her superior game playing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, because I wanted to help her learn the game (and not just let her clobber me over and over), I didn't always make it so easy on her. I sometimes jumped one or two of her pieces (of course, I let most of those opportunites go by, but every so often, I'd take one). And oh, how she would sulk! It was hard for me not to laugh--I wanted to pick her up and squeeze her with hugs and say, "Silly girl, it's just a game! You really have no chance of winning if I don't let you win, so it's really quite ridiculous for you to be either proud or sullen about it. Just enjoy the game!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But really, what a picture of my own heart! When I "succeed," I puff out my chest and feel &lt;em&gt;so &lt;/em&gt;proud of my accomplishments....and when I fail, I hang my head and want to die of humiliation...All the while, I think God is laughing, wanting to spin me around and remind me of Who, exactly, is in charge...remind me of what exactly it &lt;em&gt;means &lt;/em&gt;that He is the vine and I am the branches...("apart from Me, you can do nothing"...John 15)...remind me that, if I win, it's because He's letting me win...and if I lose, I really haven't lost anything. The feeling that the whole game somehow depends on my cleverness and prowess..well, that's kind of an illusion, isn't it? I'm just like a four-year-old playing checkers with a grown-up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't stop listening to this song by the David Crowder Band. Lately, I've been feeling more on the losing end of that checkers game, and I've been pretty deeply stuck in some self-pity about it. I've been stared in the face with all of the ways I've been falling short and blowing it, and I've been hanging my head like Caylee after a double-jump. But the words of this song have been very uplifting to me. Somehow, he captures the reality of humanity's fallenness, while at the same time drawing attention to who God is, and that's a beautiful picture to me. It doesn't make sense to try to sugar-coat and cover up the darkness we find in our own hearts. That would be like me trying to convince Caylee that she really &lt;em&gt;is &lt;/em&gt;the best checkers player in the world, because that's what she wants to believe. But that's just self-deception. The beauty of the gospel is that we &lt;em&gt;are &lt;/em&gt;helpless, we &lt;em&gt;are &lt;/em&gt;guilty, and we &lt;em&gt;are &lt;/em&gt;without hope when we look to ourselves for the answers...and yet, God is there with His arms open wide, offering us Himself as the answer to our deepest need. Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;Wholly Yours,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; David Crowder Band&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am full of earth, You are heaven's worth&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am stained with dirt, prone to depravity&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And You are everything that is bright and clean&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;The antonym of me, You are divinity&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;What a certain sign of grace is this:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;From a broken earth flowers come up&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Pushing through the dirt...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Chorus:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You are holy, holy, holy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All heaven cries holy, holy God&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You are holy, holy, holy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wanna be holy like You are&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You are everything that is bright and clean&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And You're covering me with Your majesty&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And the truest sign of grace was this&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;From wounded hands redemption fell down,&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Liberating man...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;You are holy, holy, holy&lt;br /&gt;All heaven cries holy, holy God&lt;br /&gt;You are holy, holy, holy&lt;br /&gt;I wanna be holy like You are&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;But the harder I try, the more clearly can I &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Feel the depth of our fall and the weight of it all&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And so this might could be the most impossible thing:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Your grandness in me, making me clean...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Glory, hallelujah&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Glory, glory, hallelujah&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You are holy, holy, holy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;All heaven cries holy, holy, God&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;You are holy, holy, holy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I wanna be holy, holy God&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;So here I am, all of me, finally everything&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Holy, holy, holy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am wholly, wholly, wholly&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am wholly, wholly, wholly Yours&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;I am wholly Yours&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;And I am full of earth and dirt and You...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Here I am...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Everything...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115223636061836118?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115223636061836118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115223636061836118' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115223636061836118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115223636061836118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/07/checkers.html' title='Checkers'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115211653510849181</id><published>2006-07-05T11:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-07-05T11:37:30.973-05:00</updated><title type='text'>so what's been going on?</title><content type='html'>Not much. Drove up to Wellington over the long weekend to visit the fam on the hubby's side. Got to spend some time with his aunt and uncle from VT, which was cool. They're cool peeps, and we don't see them very often, since they're, you know, many many miles away. The four of us went to Great Lakes Brewing Company where I ordered &lt;em&gt;and &lt;/em&gt;finished a beer (my 3rd ever beer ordered at a restaurant). It's coming slowly, but I am trying really hard to aquire a taste for beer. I can honestly say that I actually enjoy wheat beers now (rather than just choking them down to prove to myself that I can do it without gagging).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 347px; HEIGHT: 266px" height="660" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/P1040793.jpg" width="658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have been feeling like God's teaching me more about my identity. Story of my life, right? Well they say that the Christian life is like a spiral staircase--you just keep learning the same basic truths over and over, just a little deeper each time around. Silly me, I start to think I've "arrived" after one time around the circle, and when a theme comes up again, I balk "Isn't this a rerun? Uh, new episode, please? Thanks." I guess this particular theme is going to be a major one--separating my perception of myself from what others think, my actions from others' expectations of what my actions &lt;em&gt;should &lt;/em&gt;be. Bev was telling me a story recently about someone who was trying to manipulate her, and she was able to say, "Ah! He's being manipulative, but I'm not letting him manipulate &lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt;!" So there's a choice in there somewhere...a point where we &lt;em&gt;allow &lt;/em&gt;others control over us that they cannot otherwise have. That's tricky, and I can't yet figure out where that place is, but I'm now looking for it (which is more than I could say before).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Oh, these little rejections--how they add up quickly!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;One small sideways look and I feel so ungood...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Somewhere along the way, I think, I gave you the power to make&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;me feel the way I thought only my father could..."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;em&gt;-Alanis Morissette&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115211653510849181?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115211653510849181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115211653510849181' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115211653510849181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115211653510849181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/07/so-whats-been-going-on.html' title='so what&apos;s been going on?'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115144279398079050</id><published>2006-06-27T16:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-27T16:18:19.506-05:00</updated><title type='text'>lyrics</title><content type='html'>Here are the lyrics to "Expression," if you're unable to listen on the web (or even if you are, but just enjoy reading lyrics, like I do). I hope they're right--if they're not, sorry Charlie!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Expression, &lt;/strong&gt;Charlie Dodrill&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Danny sits in an orange jumpsuit,&lt;br /&gt;Awaiting trial in a criminal lawsuit&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, he finally met You&lt;br /&gt;And gave his old life away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A favorite son in a small town high school,&lt;br /&gt;A lifeguard at the city swimming pool&lt;br /&gt;And everybody thought Danny was so cool&lt;br /&gt;The day he drove away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Years passed and he began to immerse himself&lt;br /&gt;Into a life that went from bad to worse&lt;br /&gt;He thought that all his blessings had turned into a curse&lt;br /&gt;And he longed for yesterday&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So far away from his former glory,&lt;br /&gt;Caught holding up a liquor store, he&lt;br /&gt;Lived long enough to tell the story,&lt;br /&gt;and died another day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it were me, I’d hang my head and try to cover my face&lt;br /&gt;But according to You, he’s got his feet planted in heavenly places&lt;br /&gt;What would You do if we’d exchange our condemnation for grace&lt;br /&gt;and become the glorious expression of Your Son?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mary Beth didn’t have many friends, see,&lt;br /&gt;A broken home and a broken family,&lt;br /&gt;She knew if she could meet the perfect boy,&lt;br /&gt;He could turn her night to day&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then came Rick in his red Camero,&lt;br /&gt;Must be the answer to her prayer, oh,&lt;br /&gt;He left her flying like a broken arrow&lt;br /&gt;With a daughter on the way&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She recalled, when she was eight years old&lt;br /&gt;She took a step into the Shepherd’s fold&lt;br /&gt;She forgot that You’re the one who makes her whole&lt;br /&gt;She led herself astray&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She said, “Lord, You know my life has become crazy&lt;br /&gt;I love You, Lord, but I made a mistake, see,&lt;br /&gt;You made a promise that You’d never forsake me&lt;br /&gt;So here I am to stay…"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If it were me, I’d hang my head and try to cover my face&lt;br /&gt;But according to You, she’s got her feet planted in heavenly places&lt;br /&gt;What would You do if we’d exchange our condemnation for grace&lt;br /&gt;and become the glorious expression of Your Son?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, mine eyes have seen the glory&lt;br /&gt;Of the coming of the Lord&lt;br /&gt;And all of the faces of His people&lt;br /&gt;When I see Your life get poured out&lt;br /&gt;Into broken earthen vessels&lt;br /&gt;Who begin to live anew&lt;br /&gt;When You heal them of their brokenness&lt;br /&gt;And place them inside of You&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When it was me, I hung my head and tried to cover my face&lt;br /&gt;But according to You, I had my feet planted in heavenly places&lt;br /&gt;What would You do if we’d exchange our condemnation for grace&lt;br /&gt;and become the glorious expression of Your Son?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What do we do? We hang our heads and try to cover our faces&lt;br /&gt;But according to you, we’ve got our feet planted in heavenly places&lt;br /&gt;What would you do if we’d exchange our condemnation for grace&lt;br /&gt;and become the glorious expression of Your Son?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115144279398079050?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115144279398079050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115144279398079050' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115144279398079050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115144279398079050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/06/lyrics.html' title='lyrics'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115133357506356650</id><published>2006-06-26T09:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-26T09:57:37.736-05:00</updated><title type='text'>grace and the glorious expression</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="Section1"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.charliedodrill.com/expression.mov"&gt;Watch/listen to this song. &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;This song has been in my head all weekend. I love Charlie’s music, and this new song just struck a chord in me. Grace is something I’m always learning about (mostly learning how &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;little &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;I understand it!), and he managed to put words to my inner feelings and experience of God’s grace. Grace is a fascinating, liberating, exhilarating spiritual truth that is too little understood and too scarcely taught in the church these days (IMHO). It’s the foundation of any real, meaningful experience of living in Christ. As long as we think we deserve it or can earn it, we’ll never really understand it. Grace reminds us that we &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;don’t &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;deserve it, that we could &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;never &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;earn it, and yet somehow, wonderfully, surprisingly, fantastically, God has given it to us anyway. The experience of grace is a breath of fresh air into a life that is weary of the uphill climb, worn out from the weight of sin, and exhausted from trying to outrun the ugliness in a heart that has been forgiven but most of the time does NOT feel like it. Grace says, “the race is over—you can rest now.” Grace says, “your sin is too heavy for you to carry—why not give it to me instead?” Grace says, “I know all about the ugliness in your heart…but I can give you the strength to face it without shame, because you have a new identity now, and who you are is no longer tied to that ugliness. You’re beautiful to me!”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;Yes, grace has the power to bring liberating feelings and experiences to our interactions with God…but it is so much more than a feeling. It is a truth that we can stand on. It is a place we can really and truly “plant our feet,” and in my experience the foot-planting must come before the heart feeling. The choice to stand on the truth comes first, the feelings and experience of the truth follow. The Bible even tells us that grace is something we must &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;stand &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;“…I have written to you briefly, encouraging you and testifying that this is the true &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;grace &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;of God. &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;Stand fast in it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;.” – 1 Peter 5:12&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;“Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into &lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;this grace in which we now stand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;.” – Romans 5:1-2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;So anyway, this is a recurring theme in my life, and this song reminded me of the foot-planting side of it….the choice to turn my face from the ugliness I know is in me, and instead to stand on the reality that God tells me is true—that because of Christ, I am forgiven, I have access to God, and there’s more grace and freedom and love and kindness than I’ve ever known. And I can choose to act on it even if my feelings aren’t there yet. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115133357506356650?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115133357506356650/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115133357506356650' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115133357506356650'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115133357506356650'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/06/grace-and-glorious-expression.html' title='grace and the glorious expression'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115100616305912677</id><published>2006-06-22T14:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-22T15:01:52.920-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I just want to understand</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="Section1"&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;As much I am addicted to personality tests, I’m starting to feel sick of them lately. Yesterday, Bev told me that I’m definitely more of a choleric than a melancholy. That threw me for a loop (and I think she might be wrong), because I’ve &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;always &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;been a melancholy-phlegmatic—all of the tests say so. I’ve always thought of myself and understood myself in melancholic terms. As she was talking, I recognized some of the choleric characteristics as being true of me, but now I’m all confused and I feel like I no longer know what box to put myself in. Obviously, I mean that a little tongue-in-cheek, because taking the categories too far can be just as unhelpful as ignoring personality differences altogether. I’ve taken enough personality tests over the years, that I think I’ve got myself mostly pegged. So without using type indicators (mel-phleg, ISTJ, etc.), here are a list of things about myself that I don’t need a test to tell me:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"  &gt;General:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I like to feel in control.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I tend to get into ruts and have difficulty finding my way out of them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I struggle with change.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I’m analytical.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I’m detail-oriented and have great difficulty seeing the big picture; I “can’t see the forest for the trees.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I tend to see things as black and white rather than in shades of gray; I take things literally and at face-value. When you say something to me, I usually don’t spend time thinking, “Now what did she &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;mean &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;by that?”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I’m both messy and orderly. My thoughts are orderly, my surroundings tend to be messy (although the mess bothers me and I prefer for things to be neat, I still tend to be messy. I don’t get that one.).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;It’s typically easy for me to be content, as long as things in my life are consistent and predictable. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I'm more rigid than I am easygoing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"  &gt;People:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;Kind words mean a lot to me, and make me feel loved more than anything else.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I’m a peacemaker; I don’t like conflict, I prefer to resolve it straightforwardly, and I enjoy helping others resolve conflict.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I’m a people-pleaser; If I think someone is upset with me or doesn’t like me, I’ll spend an inordinate amount of time and energy trying to figure out ways to win their approval.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;Time with people tends to drain me, while time alone tends to recharge me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I feel uncomfortable and awkward around strangers. It’s hard for me to make new friends, and I prefer the company of people I already know well.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I often feel the need to “fix” things, people, and situations. If I see a problem, my brain tries to find a solution.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;However, identifying problems still comes more quickly and naturally than finding solutions (ie. I can be critical and negative, complaining, etc.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I enjoy trying to understand people, and I enjoy helping others understand each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I tend to see people as a means to an end, rather than an end in themselves, to be enjoyed (I don’t like this about myself, but I think it’s true).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;Because I’m a people-pleaser, I can be sensitive to criticism; I try to be sensitive to others’ feelings for the same reason (I don’t want to piss anyone off).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;However, for some reason, I can be impatient when I feel that others are being overly sensitive. “Solving the problem” is sometimes more important to me in the moment than understanding the other person’s feelings. Inside, I often think, “Why can’t you just get over this so we can get to the real issue and deal with it?” These two leanings are often in conflict within me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;Perhaps the previous two bullets are why I can sometimes be very diplomatic and concise when addressing an issue, and yet other times I can be very passionate, fired-up, extreme, and irrational. Sometimes I’m cool-headed and logical, other times I express strong feelings that may not even be rooted in reality, but instead rooted in my narrow “trees” perspective.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold;font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"  &gt;Productivity:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I like categories (this list is one example—it started out as one big list, then I got overwhelmed and put them under headings). I think they help me keep my thoughts straight, rather than getting bogged down and overwhelmed by details.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I value timeliness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I need structure to help me function.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I’m not good at &lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;creating &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;structure, however. If someone else creates it, I will implement/follow it, to a fault sometimes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I prefer to know what’s going on (have a schedule, agenda, etc.) and spontaneity is difficult for me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;Thinking “on the fly” and switching gears are also difficult for me; When I get moving on a task, I’m more like a freight train than a sports car.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;I don’t like things to be open-ended, and I feel anxious until a decision has been made.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;However, I have difficulty making decisions myself and tend to rely on others to help me make them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;What others find mundane and tedious, I typically find comforting and relaxing. It takes a long time for me to get bored with something.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="LINE-HEIGHT: 12pt"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Helvetica;color:#333333;"&gt;Anyway, that's me as I see me. If you see something different, tell me. I'm always trying to figure things out and understand, and maybe that's part of my problem. Maybe that's part of what Bev's always telling me, about how I fear being misunderstood. Maybe someday I'll figure out why that is and learn to get over it. In the meantime, you've just found out more about me than you probably cared to know :) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115100616305912677?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115100616305912677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115100616305912677' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115100616305912677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115100616305912677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/06/i-just-want-to-understand.html' title='I just want to understand'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115074914993431919</id><published>2006-06-19T15:07:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-19T20:43:03.480-05:00</updated><title type='text'>WDYTGFT?</title><content type='html'>My first year in college, my friend Leah and I used to play this daily email game where we'd ask each other "What did you thank God for today?" (WDYTGFT).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a mel-head like me, it was a good game because it helped me focus on the positive things and it reminded me to cultivate a thankful attitude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I was talking to my aunt in California, and she's been trying to do something similar lately, to help her focus on the positive things in her life. As we talked, she'd randomly add to her pretend list of positive things. ("See, that's #847.") I've been in kind of a funk lately, so perhaps it would be good for me to practice thankfulness again. Here--I'll share from MY pretend list of the top 1000 things I'm grateful for. In no particular order:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#437. My (slowly healing) cat. This morning, before I shut him away in his jail cell, I was petting him on the bed. He was on his back, just purring and letting me rub his tummy. I love that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#945. I have a good, reliable car. That's an easy thing to take for granted until you don't have it anymore. I've been there before, and I'm thankful I'm not there now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#274. My husband. He's amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#847. My job might not be perfect, but I have a lot of fun here. I've had jobs that I absolutely &lt;em&gt;dreaded &lt;/em&gt;each morning, and this one's not like that (thank God).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#568. Little babies. I was playing with little Mary in the church nursery on Saturday night, and she just makes me smile. Babies are great.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#126. Music, including the random stuff my friends share with me (that I'd probably never encounter otherwise)....such as:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;the random Coyote song ("Whoo-wup, whoo-wup, whoo-wup") &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;the entire CD of techno music (a'la Libby)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Jamie Cullum ("After years of expensive education, a car full of books and anticipation...I'm an expert on Shakespeare, and that's a hell of a lot, but the world don't need scholars as much as I thought...." Thanks Shannon :))&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;the mix CD created entirely from "Track 5" songs from various albums, including a random song about returning a bag of groceries (thanks Adrienne :). I stick to my assertion that every #5 track on every CD is an extra-special song)&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt;#1. I'm thankful for Jesus. Who knows who/where I'd be now if he hadn't found me that one summer. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;#769. Summertime. Isn't it wonderful to walk into work in the morning without having to wear a coat? I feel 10 pounds lighter in the summer, probably just because of the clothing/outerwear factor. It's fabulous.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;#391. Words. Reading them, hearing them, writing them, singing them. Words are fantastic.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;Okay, now it's your turn--what are YOU thankful for today?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115074914993431919?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115074914993431919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115074914993431919' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115074914993431919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115074914993431919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/06/wdytgft.html' title='WDYTGFT?'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16099791.post-115024426793064550</id><published>2006-06-13T19:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2006-06-13T19:17:47.946-05:00</updated><title type='text'>random things</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Just finished a week of vacation. Very relaxing. I was ready to go back to work today, though.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Tried to make it to Erik's memorial service, but started having transmission issues when we were about an hour away. Ended up spending 1-3 pm in a service garage in Richmond, IN. By the time the car was shifting again, the service was over and we just went home. I was disappointed.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Had our 3 yr anniversary last Wednesday. How these 3 years have flown by!&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Watched some of the clips from the memorial service on the website today. It was, surprisingly, more inspiring and encouraging than sad. Sad, too, but less so. I think it's what Erik would have wanted. He lived his life for eternal things. It's fitting that his death would point toward that same horizon. It filled me with hope.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;After 1 year, 7 months, and 25 days at my current job, I finally have a cubicle to myself. All of us newly undoubled people are saying the same thing--it's nice to have the space, but I'm going to miss Jen (of course, the others are going to miss &lt;em&gt;their&lt;/em&gt; cubemates, not mine, but you get the point).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm feeling melancholy today. Just lots of profound thoughts going through my head, lots of deep things I feel like God is teaching me right now. I even had to bullet &lt;em&gt;those &lt;/em&gt;in my journal because the thought of processing through each one in detail was exhausting. Why'd I have to be born a mel-head and a deep thinker? Do you ever just want to take a vacation from your own brain?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I recently discovered a new favorite ice cream: Breyer's Heath Bar something-or-other. Toffee-flavored ice cream with carmel swirls and chunks of Heath bar. Heaven in a 1/2 gallon. Yummmmmmm.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Also a recent discovery: I love wines made from concord grapes.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm almost finished with Lesley's curtains. I feel bad for taking so long. No more sewing project promises for awhile. I have a lot of catching up to do.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16099791-115024426793064550?l=romans1513.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/feeds/115024426793064550/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16099791&amp;postID=115024426793064550' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115024426793064550'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/16099791/posts/default/115024426793064550'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://romans1513.blogspot.com/2006/06/random-things.html' title='random things'/><author><name>Erin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02255016418393679650</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f224/grammarerin/2.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
