Christmas Vacation!!

Charis and Beth were trying to get at Phil's
curly hair.














Stephen, unaware of Beth's vampirish ways.

















Josh, at 4am, ready to take on the nosey neighbors.











The newly engaged...practicing their stunt for the wedding
reception.


















My beautiful Mommy!!













How cute is she? The California freckles :)













What??












Lunch with a best friend.













My awesome brothers!!














Like father, like son.

Not so wise anymore...

Yesterday morning was somewhat a traumatic morning for me. I waited until the last possible moment, until I could put it off no further. I held out longer than each sister, but alas, the time had come. I visited the maxillofacial surgeon, Dr. Mohler (appropriate dental name, huh?) He is a very nice older man and made me feel at ease--well as much ease as one can feel before going under the drill. I felt like I was being strapped down: they put these clamp things on my arms, I assume to keep an eye on my pulse, and then the little finger-clamp thing for my pulse as well. I had a blood pressure wrap on my right arm and then the IV went in my left arm. Before the IV, came the nitrous gas. I've encountered the gas before when getting a cavity filled, so I knew what was coming. "Breathe through your nose." Okay..so I begin. Really though, it didn't have quite the "floating--whoa" feeling that everyone talks about. However, while breathing I remember Phil's story of his hysterical laughing while breathing this stuff. I started to giggle, but knew if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop, so I quickly brushed that thought out of my head and waited for the said crazy state of mind. The nurse came back in and said, "Breathe deeper, Miriam!! Deep breaths!" OHHH! so that was why I couldn't feel any effects. As I began to breathe deeper, Dr. Mohler comes in to put my IV in. The nurse prepares me, "This might hurt a little." Dr Mohler informed her that I've given blood a few times so I knew all about it. The last thing I remember hearing is, "This will put you to sleep in a few minutes." And BAM! WHAM!! One hour and four less wisdom teeth later, I hear, "Miriam, open your eyes.." I slowly opened them, because it felt like I had 2 tons of steel resting on each eyelid...I peeked them open but decided it was much better to keep them closed. The nurse returned with the wheelchair and reminded me to open my eyes again, and told me that I needed to wake up. UGH! All I wanted to do was sleep, didn't she know that!? But like an obedient patient, I got into the wheelchair. I don't remember being pushed down the hallway, in the elevator, or getting into the car. But there I was and Mom was putting a blanket on me, brushing away my tears and handing me Kleenexes. I came home and chilled the rest of the day, slurping down some chicken broth and applesauce. My first experience with Vicodin...wasn't really one to talk about; Nothing unusual really happened except I was really nauseous and at one point Phil looked like he had black make-up around his eyes. Yesterday (Day 1) was one of pain and sleep. Today (Day 2) I'm feeling much better--but much more swollen, kind of like a chipmunk collecting acorns for the winter. Hopefully the swelling will go down and I'll be able to go back to some state of normalcy this Christmas.

Merry Christmas, guys! Don't forget to thank the Father for his gracious and merciful gift: His Son. XOXO!

Who Says Women Can't!?

My dad Kurt-O was blessed with four daughters to love and raise. This in itself shows God's humor. Because you see, my father grew up building cars, constructing engines, etc. I mean how could he not? His dad was the one who built a homemade helicopter and his grandpa built one of the first lawnmowers in Indiana! He had in his genes to be an automotive man. My dad was the coolest kid on the block. When he was five, his bicycle was the only one with a steering wheel instead of handlebars! Beat that, Joe Smith! He helped his dad build motorcycle engines as was his profession. My dad drove a motorcycle as his ride on the first day he got his license. (Ask him about being pulled over by an officer for not looking old enough to have a license..on his first day!) He has owned a plethura of cars of the years: Fiat, a couple Jaguars, a Scirocco (only 600 ever made). We girls always ask in disbelief, "Why did you sell the Jags!!!?" He answers as only the best dad in the whole world could answer, "Well, I had to choose between a family or cars. I chose a family." So with starting this new family, I'm sure my dad had visions of having a couple sons, at least one to pass on the family name and the car knowledge....but instead God chuckled and said, "Girl." "Girl." "Girl." and "Girl." Now if you ask him, he says he wouldn't have it any other way---yet I can't help but notice how happy he was to talk to Phil about his Jeep when he was having problems; or better yet, how excited he got when Scott told him he owned Slot Cars. It was like watching a kid open their favorite toy at Christmas. His eyes lit up and he began talking faster with a higher pitch in his voice. :) Slowly, my dad is gaining the sons he never had. But let's back up and talk about what a man is supposed to do when he has so much car knowledge to impart, but no son to impart it to. He does the next logical thing: pass it to the daughters!! Brilliant! While we were growing up, Dad was always sure to name every car in every movie made prior to 1975: brand, model, year, special accessories, etc. I mean, this guy knows his stuff! Dad and I used to play the headlight game---name the oncoming car by the headlights--I got pretty good at it. Every year he and my grandpa go to a car show in Auburn, IN and Cindy has gone with them the past couple years. His love of motorcycles has been passed down: Cindy has her motorcycle license and I'm hoping to get my permit this coming summer. He's taught each of us , the obvious: how to check the oil, two or three of us how to change the oil, how to change tires on our cars. So you see, my dad has done a nice job of infiltrating us to some degree. There are two of us daughters who have really taken an interest in cars: Cindy and I. The other two--well they care, but there are more important things than gaskets, cylinders and pistons. So now the object of my narrative:

Down here in Tennessee, I drive quite often. Indeed, I drive my car almost everyday. I'm about to make my 400+ mile journey home to IN, but my oil needed to be changed first. I'm always a promotor of "If you can do it yourself, do it." Right? Right.. first step: go buy a filter, 4 qts of oil, oil wrench (because I couldn't find one to borrow). 2nd step: find an oil pan to borrow (got it!). 3rd step: find a place to change the oil. See that step was a little trickier than the rest. I don't have jack stands or blocks--and couldn't find those anywhere around here. My genius friend CT decided to make use of the small ditch bordering the outside of the parking lot. I pulled my car up to the ditch, balancing one side on the pinnacle of the cement ditch and the other side in the grass. This worked out very nicely. So there I am in the middle of campus crawled underneath my car, unscrewing the oil bolt. I'm not gonna lie, a few males walked by and stopped and stared...in awe. Out comes the oil---down with the filter---in with new--dump in 4 quarts and buddy we're back in business. Approximate time: 20 minutes; which might I add was pretty good for me being my first time by myself and only watching my dad once. As I arose from underneath the car, I hear a male voice saying, "I'm impressed." So Dad---Thanks for teaching me how to prove to those unbelieving males out there: who says women can't!?

Dead Week.

So this week is known as "Dead week" on campuses across the nation; for good reason too. You see, now is the time when college students have realized in less than a week and a half, there will be no more school. No more school = freedom to sleep in without the downfall of missing a class or a meal; freedom to stay up late just for the heck of it rather than trying to finish a paper due in less than 6 hours; freedom from the ugly grasp that a bathroom has on a college student due to it's tag team partner: the cafeteria; freedom from the monotonous professors that unconsciously use hypnotic devices while lecturing. There are many advantages that come from the end of a semester. But alas, in the back of the mind there is this thought: I still have FINALS week! And before FINALS week...I must face Dead Week! And so now...dead week is upon us. This is the week students remember all of the projects, posters, papers and portfolios assigned at the beginning of the semester are now due in less than 2 days = "ohhh snap." Or for some, it's the time to take the "pre-final" tests that profs intentionally or unintentionally (you decide) assign for this week.

So please, if you remember: pray for those of us who are in this unfortunate, draining week. Also, for those of us who, procrastination is second nature and lose many hours of sleep trying to catch up and complete all assignments, and then try to function with 4 hours of sleep. (Not me, of course, but others....)