Journey With Me

I am a firm believer God created things out of the needs which arose in the midst of those He loved:

Physicians (no brainer). Water pots. Shrunken staffs (canes). Togas. Indestructible shoes. Food raining from the skies (no, Sony Animation didn’t think of it first). Fireproof clothing. Wood that floats.

Deodorant.

Seriously. Could you imagine what the stench must have been like for the poor shepherds who had to herd sheep in the desert, under the hot sun, in togas and turbans? What about the disciples? Bible says they washed their feet, I don’t remember anywhere it says they took a bath.

“John.”

“Yes, Peter.”

“Could you sit over there on that empty pillow at the table?”

“Is there a particular reason?”

“An odor emitteth.”

I arrived at the gym today just before 5. After I changed I eagerly climbed onto an elliptical, fumbled with an app on my phone, set the level thingy on the machine display and
proceeded to do my thing. Not even two minutes passed before I caught a waft of an odor.
While it hung out like Casper the Friendly Ghost, I scoped the mirrors to find out where it came from. Which really could have been anywhere, the ceiling fans did not help the situation at ALL. Whomever it was, they smelled like they were workin’ on the railroad…

…and warehouse…and freeway…and…

Enough about the stinky person.

I have gotten a little bored with my play lists I put together for my workouts. I love the music, but to have to listen to the same songs over and over is annoying (I have this same issue with the radio. Solution: Pandora, Slacker…). Yesterday I learned of an app where someone mixed a whole mess of music with beats as part of their podcast, and they update the play list every week. So I found it in iTunes, then discovered two things: 1) it’s an iPhone app and I do not own an iPhone. 2) To eliminate the 60 second business blip at the start of every song one must upgrade to Premium. I searched to see what that looked like. It’s not even available yet! Grrrr…

So I searched the Android Market and came across this free app called FIT Radio. Their website said, “FIT Radio puts fast-paced, club-inspired mixes at your fingertips, available on-demand. Whether you’re breaking a sweat at the gym, bored at the office, or busting moves with friends, FIT Radio enhances any occasion.”

Well, it was free. I figured if I didn’t like it I could always delete it.

This thing is the BOMB!

FIT Radio is a small music player which has genres (i.e. Top 40, Hip Hop, Rock, Indie Rock, Electronic Dance Music, Dubstep, Party, Indie Dance, Lounge, Open Format), and over twenty stations (i.e. iClub Radio, Back in the Day, House Sounds, Live from XS, Live from Opera, etc.). Small note: there are a couple of genres and stations which have the word “Explicit” in the description. Means the listener won’t get surprised by the station. I appreciated the heads up.

FIT Radio does have advertising. However, I only heard the one which said I was listening to FIT Radio. Major score there. In my opinion the most fantastical thing about FIT Radio is the music stream itself. Each song moved to the next flawlessly. I’m serious! No skips, jumps, long pauses, or cut-off endings. It was so great.

So if you have given thought to switching up your workout music, I highly recommend you
check out FIT Radio. It’s free and quite nifty.

(***No, I wasn’t paid to share my opinion…actually, they have no idea I am posting this. Hopefully they won’t be too offended Stinky Person appeared first***)

-Traci

Today was a busy day which really started last night with dinner with my cousin. I had a Boot Camp session scheduled with my trainer that my other cousin was coming to on the far side of town. Then her and I visited over a bowl of oatmeal, toast and orange juice (I had the oatmeal). Afterwards, I ran home through a freak snow shower to change clothes, grab all the laundry bags and heff them over to the laundry mat. Fifteen people hid all the the rolling baskets. Seriously. There were two or three parked alongside various rows of washers with all sorts of crap piled up inside of them. It was then I realized the obvious:

The laundry mat was filled with hoarders.

I got to read half an issue of Time on my nook. Really. I’ve blurted this out before: it’s interactive. For someone who has a teeny tiny addiction to electronics….it’s AWESOME! I check news junk online throughout the day or week, but Time I read cover to cover. Makes my laundry days less boring. And I don’t glare at the guy who decided to shove my stuff over on the table to fold his boxers (uh…EEW!).

After folding my boxers (kidding) I trollopped over to Meijer on 14 Mile Road. There’s a reason I don’t shop at Meijer on 14 Mile Road. It was freaking packed and full of rude people. Rather than say “Excuse me” to  shopping cart clusters of customers fighting over a jar of peanut butter like two top models would fight over a candy bar (joking!), people would just stand in the way…staring. As if sheer will were enough to shove all of the obstacles out of the way. I wasn’t having any of it. I was on a mission, and some dude was in the way of my almonds – he looked like his puppy got kidnapped. I politely said “Excuse me”, he dramatically picks up the cart an moves it over, I politely say “Thank yoooou”. I think he attempted to bore holes into the back of my head with his imaginary laser beam eyes because I made it through the peanut-butter-fighting-shopping-cart-people-cluster.

Well, nobody was fighting over peanut butter. I said that for dramatic effect.

I got home and started to unload my treasure trove of goodies and clean socks. Armed with six or seven bags and a relatively heavy purse, I tromp up the stairs, push the little screen door open and step onto my porch (it’s more like a super big mud room). Over to the right I noticed two bags of clothes I had sitting there were disturbed. One had fallen off the other  with obvious signs of rodent tampering. The other was tipped over and had this gaping hole  that had been torn in it, there were black plastic pieces of the bags all over the floor.

Next the bag moved, I screamed and an overly-nourished grey squirrel bolted out from between a pair of pants and flannel pajama bottoms which were in the bag, ran into my leg and slammed himself into the corner of the screen door. Kid you not, head first. His little arms splayed out from the force of the impact – like something out of a cartoon: splat! Then he ran through the opening, zipped down about seven stars and sat there. Staring at me. He drummed his little claws together like he was pondering the next move, but his little black beady eyes silently dared me to drop the groceries and give chase.

I tried to shoo him off the stares, but all he did was glare at me.

Like a hole in the head.

Prior to my having weight loss surgery I was told my taste buds might change. They have a little: I can only eat one brand of cottage cheese (Daisy), all the others I used to like I now can’t stand the taste, let alone the texture. Sour cream is  a definate no-go. Not a big fan of mangos. Don’t dig strawberries. I used to detest cantelope, but it’s become a little more tolerable. Still hate lemons, and onions are now viler than they were prior to surgery. I’ve become a touch sensitive to tart (or sour) foods. I absolutely love almonds (I have a snack basket with tons of little almond packs) and peanut butter (I have a second snack basket full of nothing but Jif-To-Go cups). Still love tomato, cucumbers and feta. I like Greek yogurt if it’s got stuff in it.

Usually I get Chobani. I loved it so much I at one point sent an email through their web site saying why I loved it and how it worked for my new way of eating (I received a hand written thank-you card in the mail, accompanied by several coupons and a nifty little magnet). Every now and then I’ll pick up different yogurts. Last week I picked up Fage Greek yogurt. They have a little pocket on the side filled with fruit, that one scoops out and mixes into the yogurt (that’s after one gets spit upon by removal of the little foil lid which is fused onto the container). Really talented people manage to get it on their desk while mixing (cough, cough). Blueberry is my favorite.

I really should have stuck to the blueberry.

“Honey” was the flavor today. First of all let me just say whomever though to put honey in that stupid side pocket ought to be slapped. Seriously…have you ever scooped cold honey? It’s like the consistency of Play Dough (without that smell). Then trying to mix it into a pile of cold yogurt. Oh. Em. Gee. Wally. It hardens right up. So there I am trying to mix this hardened glob of honey into a teeny tiny area of yogurt.

Yep. Got it all over the place.

When I finally managed to get half of it mixed together I almost threw up because of the taste. I can’t even describe it. It was just…just…awful.

If I had just stuck with Chobani…I wouldn’t be writing this blog.

Oh…I’m eight months out. 113 down. And today the doctor looked at me, raised his eyebrows and said, “You already look like a thin person.”

-Traci

I’ve been driving an SUV for quite a long time. I’ve had moments of driving smaller vehicles (i.e. the Mazda RX7 that Don Arnold left a fat note on the dashboard of titled “This Car Needs” – the tires were just a tad out-of-round [ahem]; or the little green Geo Ruben and Angela John loaned me several years ago when the engine on my teal Jeep Cherokee Sport blew…to this day I think they secretly watch videos of me getting in and out of that car!). But, for the most part I’ve become very accustomed to driving a Grand Cherokee.

Until this morning at slightly past seven. I came down the stairs from my flat and immediately noticed the Jeep didn’t sound right (I live in Michigan, I have a car starter…and yes, I use it all year long). You know – that sound which indicates something is “off” but you can’t describe it. You just “know”. So I put my lunchbox and purse in, tuck my uber big coffee tumbler into a safe spot, get into the front seat, verify the radio is off, shut the door, put on the seat belt, slide the gearshift from P to R and about had heart failure right there in the morning dark by myself in 32 degree weather.

“WHIRRRRRRRRRRRR!”

I put the stupid thing back in park, waited a second, then put it back in reverse. Same awful whirring noise comes from somewhere inside the engine compartment. What I really heard was, “Whirrr-cha-ching….whirrr-cha-ching….whirrr-cha-ching”. I throw it back into park, rev the engine as if magically that will be the ultimate resolution….aaaand not a stinking thing changed.

Holding my breath, I back up – praying nothing bad happens over the next twenty feet or so. Then I head to work. And of course, I hear E V E R Y T H I N G you can possibly hear in a car that was built in 1996 over the course of the next 3.5 miles.

It gets better. At lunch I decided to run back home to check my emergency fund booklet and the engine CLACKS really fast.

Side note: I had called one customer to find out if he knew of anyone selling another Jeep. When I told him about the clacking he said, “That’s not good”. Before I could stop myself I blurted out (quite loudly), “Ya THINK??”

On the suggestion of a coworker I called another customer of ours who has a used car lot, deals with auctions, and whatnot. I explained the situation and why I wasn’t willing to replace an engine or transmission. I’ve had the Jeep for four or five years now, and it’s done me good. But I have a limit on how far I’ll go with repairs. Seems when I get the inkling to look for a different vehicle, something BREAKS!

Anyways, I explained to my customer I wasn’t in a position to be picky. What I want is the fifty-five thousand dollar Grand Cherokee that came out this year. What I need is reliable transportation…but I really don’t want to drive a small car (ask me sometime about Mom’s Focus and the teenager who stole her daddy’s car who slammed into us at Home Depot in Lincoln Park). So our customer tells me he’s got a line on a heck of a deal on a very clean car: 97 Grand Marquis. He’s on his way to the warehouse, he’ll let me drive his since it’s pretty much the same. He was very excited in that sales personey kind of way.

All I kept thinking was…you got it: Land Yacht.

The pictures I found online weren’t very encouraging. Everyone I know drives little cars, or cool SUV’s, nobody drives a land yacht (well, Leslie was the exception…I test drove her land yacht in Florida…but it was a collectible!). I mention this to my boss, who makes a remarkable comparison between the Grand Marquis and an old, white guy smoking cigars into retirement.

So when our customer shows up, I am nice and polite. I get my coat and we go out front. He opens the door for me and hands me the key, then moves a little button and the seat slides back (I have long legs…and again…love my legs!). I get in, he hops into the passenger seat.

Okay…so having my rump hugged by this leather seat was kind of…nice. Then I saw the hood of the car…the long, long hood of the car. How the heck am I ever going to park this thing? The customer is telling me all about the car, as I move the shifter down into reverse and back out of the parking space. I was just going to go for a romp around the parking lot. But for a second I had this horrible thought of not being able to turn the car. It’s freaking HUGE! Over two feet longer than the Grand Cherokee I drive, and almost a foot wider.

And those who remember my dumber drunk days are remembering the pretty Ford F150 and Traci backing into Jill’s mom’s car…and tearing the rear corner panel off Jenny’s car with my bumper…and taking out the fence at the condo complex.

Now, I’m driving a land yacht.

I did fine. Nobody died, I put it back where I found it.

It was a freaking GREAT ride!

Oh Em Gee Wally! It was totally awesome. Like riding a cloud. Riding a sled down butter. It was so cool! It sold itself.

So before the week is up, I’ll be the owner of my very own personal Land Yacht. I should probably put up fliers to warn the neighbors…

I admit, without reservation, I have no clue what God’s ultimate plans are for my life…let alone His plans for the lives of those around me. Those who have long been cemented deep within the recesses of the church would most likely say He desires a man/woman after His own heart, and pour forth all the scripture they can muster to support such a statement.

Thing is, I know those scriptures. They are underlined, circled, and boxed with different shades of ink; onion skin pages highlighted with various colors (yellow, pink, green, blue, orange). The margins of my Bible are filled with notes, as well as the spaces in between sentences; ink has blurred and bled through on many pages. I can give answers with much confidence about things in the Bible.

What I can’t give is an answer for why in the lives of those who love God…why things are such a mess. Foolish people say it’s a lack of faith, wavering trust in Him, a fledgling prayer life, not enough time in the Word. I say that is bunk…the Bible doesn’t say life is messy because we didn’t do enough. It simply says in the 64 books tucked between Genesis and Revelation life is messy, and that God is there to help us muddle our way through it.

I don’t get it. I don’t get how some Christians who love God have this amazing life and ministry, manage to wade their way through the orange barrels of life while others – who love God with all their being – get plowed over by a herd of steamrollers on what seems to be a daily basis. Can you answer that?

Really, I don’t want you to.

There was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan came with them. God actually said to Satan, “Have you considered My servant Job? For there is no one like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man, fearing God and turning away from evil.” It should be mentioned here, Job was the Donald Trump of the Old Testament. He had ten children. 7,000 sheep, 3,000 camels, 500 oxen, 500 female donkeys, lots of servants (employees). The Bible says, “…and that man was the greatest of all the men of the east.” Because of this Satan challenged God by saying if He put His hand against Job, Job would curse God to His face.

To prove Job’s love for God was greater than whatever Satan could shell out, God allowed the carpet to be yanked right out from underneath him. In one day everything Job had was ripped from his hands: his wealth, his herd, his servants, and most painfully…his children. God’s Word was true, Job fell on his face and worshiped Him. The Bible says, “through all this Job did not sin nor did he blame God.”

God pointed this out to Satan, repeated what He originally said about Job and added “And he still holds fast to his integrity, although you incited Me against him, to ruin him without cause.” Satan challenged God a second time, “Inflict him, then he’ll falter.” (I’m paraphrasing). What does God do? He allows Satan to come down hard on Job, this time it was so horrible he had to scrape boils off his body with a piece of pottery.

Job’s friends weren’t much help. They were, in my humble opinion, like the foolish ones I mentioned earlier.

A friend of mine is going through some messy stuff. It’s challenging. It’s affected her, her family and her health, and for me on the outside looking in it’s heartbreaking because I just know things…like how she loves God. In a lot of ways, her story reminds me of Job’s. I found myself thinking hard on that today. I think God looked at Satan and said, “Have you considered my daughter? For there is no one like her on the earth, a blameless and upright woman, fearing God and turning away from evil. And she still holds fast to her integrity.”

I suspect some days are really tough for her to see God in the midst of the circumstances, as I’m confident it was for Job. But I am hopeful God’s supremacy will shine through the messy stuff. The book of Job asks if you can discover the depths of God, discover the limits of the Almighty. It says they are as high as the heavens, deeper than Sheol. It’s measure is longer than the earth, and broader than the sea. In short, God is still more magnificent and bigger than all the messes life can throw.

And I hope my friend can take comfort in knowing God knows the way she takes; when He has tried her, she shall come forth as gold…and like Job…all will be restored.

The definition of aversion is: a strong feeling of dislike, opposition, repugnance (strong distaste or objection), or antipathy. 

Ed brought in his annual Christmas lunch for the employees where I work. A thank-you for  our business. I had to take a picture of him in his suit, and as you can see…he’s a relatively cool guy.

Soon after I snapped this spiffy photo, he loaded up those tables behind him with lasagna, fettuccine alfredo, fried chicken, salad, and baked goods.

The aroma wafting down the hallway to the door, which is located on the opposite side of my cube-wall, about sent me running out of the building. Well, actually, it did send me out of the building…I went to Wendy’s and got chili.

This has happened a couple of times since my surgery, both times caught me completely by surprise and sent me running. From the boards I frequent, I’m assuming this is what food aversion would be called. It affected my pallet…some things I used love I hate the taste of…some items the texture bugs me. It’s just totally weird.

When you think about it, it’s a great fail safe.

So if you see me looking like this, chances are I didn’t like what I smelled!

Have a great day!

All I have thought about over the past few days are friends of ours who are overseas, who have a front porch view of a nation about to teeter into war – and all they want – while practically everyone they know in the states has an overwhelmed, glassy-eyed, coma-like gaze over Christmas expenses – are two gas masks.

So while darling Darla begs you for that new thing all the other kids have (“you know I’ll absolutely die without it”) – on the other side of the world a man is pleading with a government official. He tells the official he understands he and his wife aren’t “citizens”, but please consider the government letter he has as he shows the official their passports.

They just want a couple of gas masks because they, too, desire to live. With what is stirring in the wind, war breaking out soon is a very, very real reality.

Before you go to your Christmas or birthday parties, or do your elephant trading, before you drop half your savings account on something that will most likely be collecting dust in three months, consider making a donation to the organization our friends belong to (click here for more information – you can earmark your donation: House Directors in Akko).

And if your finances simply do not permit a donation, please – I beg you – keep them in prayer, ask your friends to pray for them. Add them to your local church prayer list. They are an amazing couple and I wish I would have gotten to tell them that the last time I saw them.

Peace.

-Traci