THIS IS INDIA .

It's where you call when you have a technical problem with your computer...

Epiphanies in the office, seated in a desk chair, gazing at the computer monitor

There is a whole lot of sunshine you don't see when your office is in a basement.

My tailbone does have nerve endings, and they are currently numb.

I now understand why my father had the desire/ability to run marathons... after this for 9 hours a day, you just want to move.

I see excel spreadsheets when I close my eyes.

Chatting it up with statistics guys from various universities is probably a sign that I don't get enough human interaction.

Unlimited text messaging is a life-line.

Packed lunches become very boring.

I'm thankful I have a great job.

I'm still not a fan of digging ditches or sitting in a toll booth...

I don't think you should draw your life's philosophy from Dove chocolate wrappers...

It has come to my attention that Dove needs to hire someone else to create the inscriptions on the foil used to wrap their dark chocolates. (Their milk chocolate philosophy may be just fine, I have no idea. I'm a dark chocolate connoisseur myself...)

For example:

"Naughty can be nice."

(Anyone who's ever spent significant time- as in 20 minutes- with a two year old would disagree.)

"A smile is worth more than a dozen roses."

(Says who?!? A man so totally wrote that.)

"Love without rules."

(That seems like a dangerous thing to write. What if my version of "loving without rules" was violently possessive (i.e. "stalker girlfriend")? A person prone to such affection should probably be given some guidelines to help them love in a more acceptable fashion.)

"Listen to your heart beat and dance."

(I considered doing this, but then remembered that I live in the 21st century, am German-American, and am thereby excluded from spiritualistic rituals monopolized by 17th century native Americans.)

"Make your eyes twinkle."

(I tried this. They looked squinty. How exactly does one make one's eyes twinkle? How frustrating to be given a command I am clueless as to how to fulfill.)

I think I am putting way to much thought into my chocolate eating...

Weekend with the Fam

Andrea (Austin's fiancee), Austin, Markus, Me

I got to spend this past weekend with the Schafer family! Austin (Markus' younger brother) graduated from Grove City College on Saturday with his B.A. and I tagged along with Markus on the trip out to Grove City, PA.

A full entry of the weekend's various activities would be too long for my average readers. Suffice to say that Mrs. Schafer ate chicken wings, Austin did smile for the camera in graduation, Mr. Schafer ordered a "unique" beverage, Markus did (at one point in the past) eat 77 wings, and Andrea is lovely.

Oh, and we only listened to 45 minutes of NPR during our 14 hours in the car. Yay!

Because God is love...

I was notified at the end of last week that I had been selected for a graduate assistantship for my first year of graduate school. Prior to this information I had no funding and no resources to continue my education. However, God never ceases to amaze me with his love and provision, and I now have full funding for the fall semester! As an additional bonus (kinda like a toy in a Happy Meal!), the professor I will be working with has the exact same area of research interest that I do (neurophysiology of speech production) and has asked me to T.A. the easiest class in the undergraduate department. (Translation: major benefits, minor work load.)

Can God get any more detailed in his explicit love towards me?

I submit that He cannot.

:)

Epiphany of the Week: Never Talk to your Budget

I, as a general rule, am very fond of fruit. However, it came to my attention (sometime in February) that my budget didn't like how much I was spending on very expensive, small, often bad-tasting replicas of my summertime favorites. So the budget and I had a chit-chat...

Budget: Courtney, you know as well as I do that a teacher's aid doesn't make that much money.
Me: Yes... I know. *sigh*
Budget: You also know that said teacher's aid has to pay electric, gas, and general expenses.
Me: Yes...
Budget: Said teacher's aid had also probably be saving money for next year and graduate school.
Me: Why are you calling me "said teacher's aid"?
Budget: I thought it would make me sound more official.
Me: You're not really that official... you're more just a general guideline.
Budget: I know that! Sheesh. You don't think I'm frustrated at how lightly you treat me?
Me: I'm sorry... I try, I really do.
Budget: Try harder. I'm starting to feel undervalued.
Me: Well, truth be told... I am a little angry with you.
Budget: What!?! Me? Why?
Me: We need to talk about the amount you've allotted to clothing and new shoes.
Budget: Nope. It's set. It's fixed- nonnegotiable. It's practical.
Me: Erg! I hate practical...
Budget: But it's good for you.
Me: I know...
Budget: And I'm good for you.
Me: I know...
Budget: So let's talk about how much you're spending on bad fruit...

The long and short of it is, my budget and I decided that frozen fruit would have to satisfy me until I could obtain the "real thing" in its season.

All that to say:

Strawberries are on sale at Meijer!

Psalm 84:11

Purdue University Graduate School admittance, Markus, Market Research Internship, Sunday afternoons with the ex-roomie, Julie-Bop, Grandma's 80th birthday, Klondike Elementary students, Sunday school class, weekends with extended boyfriend time, skirt weather, family dinners...

For the LORD God is a sun and shield; The LORD gives grace and glory; No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly.
Psalm 84:11
**Lord, may I walk uprightly...**

QUOTES (Because the "Bear" hasn't monopolized a blog post in a while...)

Me: So, who was Jesus' dad?
Bear: Ummm.... this is a tough one... Abraham?


Bear: You know, baby bears can't eat normal food.
Me: Really?
Bear: Yup, they have to drink milk from their mom's body... It's probably skim.
Me: **choking with laughter**


(at lunch) Bear: What a lovely apple! (He then kisses it.)


(Whenever I make a mistake) Bear: Excuse me, my dear...


Bear: Some people are old, and I don't like old people.


Bear: I think I will have 25 kids. (pause) No, wait. That's absurd. (another pause. He's counting...) I'll have 15. That's about what will fit in my house.


Me: (opening the door for him)
Bear: Whoa! Let me open the door. After all, my name is "Bear" and bears are gentlemen.

My plan to pick-up soccer, join the military, and switch to engineering at a college in Manhattan prior to going to seminary.

Okay, so I've always thought of myself as a fairly content person. I'm not one to rock the boat. I like to think I don't whine. (Don't ask any of my friends or family about that one...) I'm easy to please, yada, yada, yada.

It's not true.

**sigh**

I wish it were, but over the past few weeks I've noticed a horrible trend. I'm envious.

If I'm all dressed up, and I see someone in sweat pants- I want to wear sweatpants. BUT if I'm in sweat pants and I see someone all dressed up- I want to be dressed up. I'll choose Mango-Pineapple V8 juice, get up to the counter, see that someone else has the Mixed Berry V8, and suddenly I'm mad at them for picking a better juice. (The whole aisle was stocked with Mixed Berry, I could have chosen it if I really wanted to.) I'm excited I graduated early (I never liked spring semester finals) then I see everyone going through spring semester finals and I turn a little green.

Unfortunately this is not confined to juice selections and finals. The persons I am most jealous of are my siblings. How crazy is that?

Alex is in engineering on a full-ride scholarship from the army. (Yes, I was jealous of the engineering and army. Why in the WORLD would I want to join the military and take Quantum Physics?)

Trevor is heading off to a college in Manhattan to prep for becoming a pastor. (Okay, who doesn't want to go to college in Manhattan... and I wanted to be a pastor before I found out only guys could do it...)

Erika is a freshman in highschool, playing soccer, and hangin' with friends. (I can't play soccer. I probably couldn't play any sport if my life depended on it.)

Julie's not so easy to envy... I'm still very grateful I'm out of diapers... ;)

But then I have to stop and remember. God saved me. He loves me. So he didn't just leave me where he found me, he's patiently working out all my problems and my kinks. And even though I may grouse about my life (which, let's face it, is actually really nice), he's very patient with me, and graciously gives me far more than I deserve.

So until the time I pick-up soccer, join the military, and switch to engineering at a college in Manhattan prior to seminary. I'll just remember Paul's words in Philippians: "I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances."

I'm currently single due to academic rigors required of my boyfriend by Purdue.




Boo, Purdue.

Epiphany of the week: clean out purse...

My car is nice. It's also new and safety conscious. As a result, it has a sensor on the front passenger seat to determine if a small child is sitting there. If the weight in the passenger seat is between a certain number of pounds, the car (wonderful Versa!) decides that a young child must be sitting there and (as a result) the air bag turns off.

The scale does not activate for weights below 20-something pounds, or over 60 pounds.

I don't have children. As a result, the little light to notify me about the disabled airbag never comes on.

Until yesterday.

I look around. No children in my car. Actually, no passenger whatsoever. I'm confused. Why is the passenger airbag off? The seat is empty except for my purse.

My purse....


Yes, so apparently I'm carrying around a bag that weighs as much as a small child.

This could help explain the recent tension I've been feeling in my neck and shoulders...

Note to Self: Don't believe ABC Family movie previews

I am very well aware of the fact that I am corny. I'm a hopeless romantic, and my very obliging boyfriend has only served to destroy what little cold, hard, career woman exterior I had ever managed to assume.

I'm a sap.

Now that that's out on the open, I would like to confess something. There have been previews on ABC Family of a movie (alluringly entitled "Princess") which was set to air last night at 8 p.m. I cleared my calendar and turned down social engagements. (Actually, everyone else was busy and I needed something to justify my existence that evening...) . I was excited. Girly, princess movie (complete with tiaras and huge skirts of taffeta) here I come!

It was so lame.

I know most of you are shaking your heads, giving me a very harsh, "duh!" expression. But I was looking forward to a Princess, a dragon, a handsome rescuer, and a happily ever after. (Granted, there was a happily ever after, but nothing traumatic really happened before they reached that point...)

All I have to say is that the previews were very misleading.

Next ABC family movie I won't block out the entire evening.

I'll have a back-up plan, just in case it's cheesy...

Neurosis #12

I do not, as a general rule, have a problem with nature. I love hiking. An occasional bonfire makes me quite happy. In the summer I enjoy the smells of new-mown grass and lemonade. The pleasures of winter are just as a great with clean snow and the crackle of ice. I even like wildlife. I smile at deer, raccoons, and water bugs. I find them endearing.

But I hate birds.

I'm pinning my horrible paranoia on my dear grandmother. She liked to raise chickens, geese- and one very tempermental rooster. At age three, a rooster can be a terrifying creature, and an angry rooster even more so. Although nothing traumatic ever occured between me and said rooster, I decided to be a wise three-year old and learn from the chicken's mistakes. I never approached that volatile rooster, and to this day I'm scared of all things feathered.

Unfortunately, the feathered creatures seem oblivious to my antipathy for them. Several days ago I noticed a pile of debris collecting in the corner of my front porch. With words muttered under my breath about my raucous male neighbors and their dirty habits, I brushed the straw off the porch. A couple days after that the debris was back, and I, with a sinking feeling in my stomach, looked up to my door mantle, dreading the inevitable. Yes, birds were mid-construction on a very substantial nest. I started shaking. I jump whenever birds fly over me, I wince when one walks within a 20 foot radius. I could not- I WOULD not- walk underneath a bird's home every morning as I left for work. Nor could I do a half dodge, half tuck 'n' roll inside every night, each moment fearing that a bird would fly into my house or my hair. There was only one thing to do...

I knocked the foundation of the nest to the ground. I swept every piece of gathered building material to the wind. I did so with a vehemence that is typically reserved only for those whose pictures I walk by in the post office, but this was serious! Every day since then, I sweep. And every day since I started sweeping, they re-gather their straw and nest-making supplies. I will keep sweeping. Soon, if they don't take the hint, I will have to start confiscating their straw and hay, so that they will never find it.

I'm really not a mean person, promise! Why couldn't a little, homeless puppy decide to make my doorway his home? I would love a puppy...

Excuse me, I have to go sweep my porch.

Because I don't have the attention to write an actual blog entry....

I like orange soda. This is the first orange flavored item I have ever liked. (Barring actual oranges of course...)

Wet dogs smell funny and shouldn't sit on your pastor's arm chair. (Even if it is your pastor's dog...)

The Lysol with Febreeze is my new favorite cleaning supply.

I beat Markus for the first time on any board game this weekend. I didn't win the game. I just beat Markus. It was enough for me. :)

I think (if it wasn't rank cruelty) I would call one of my future sons "Edgar."

Without coffee I'm literally (no joke!) falling asleep while standing. This would be known as an addiction.

I want to paint a room plum and orange. Probably people would be blinded as soon as they entered, but I think it sounds fun... and completely impractical.

I can't beat 5th grade second language learners at Scattegories. However, I can beat the 2nd graders. Good to know.

Buying gas is my least favorite thing to do.

I need to write a full-blown, coherent journal-approximated blog entry some time in the near future. Not sure why I have been so completely unable to formulate coherent thoughts and witty ideas. Perhaps it's because I have been busy doing other things. (Like finally seeing family and boyfriend! Yay!)

PROMISE U!!!

It was wonderful working with these (and other!) kids. Jana became one of my bestest buds and Marney one of my godly mentors. Sign me up for next year! (More pics in just a bit...)

Question

Is the lady at the Chinese take-out allowed to *69 you (thereby calling you back) when you cancel your order?

In the local news...

The neighbors underneath me have started a rock band.

Because I often feel grossly inadequate...

And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.

II Corinthians 9:8

Note to self: Work on Phone Skills

So, this was the weekend of phone faux pas. Let it be stated (before the following is read) that I am a horrible phone conversationalist. I don't like talking on the phone. I'm not good at it. I'm getting better (I used to pace psychotically and stammer), but I'm still not entirely comfortable with the phone.

Friday I worked with Drew. As soon as I dropped him off I picked up the phone to call Markus. (We had been playing phone tag all day.) Once again, I get his voice mail. Halfway through the message I get to a blind intersection. It always freaks me out, so I put myself on autopilot in my voice message so I could pull out safely. Unfortunately, autopilot me chooses to say, "Okay, honey, I love you bunches!" The real me suddenly hears autopilot me. Real me is shocked.

"Whoa chicken! I don't love you! I mean... of course I LIKE you. I like you a lot. I thought I was talking to my dad. I mean, I don't think you're my dad, but you know. Um, I'm driving. Actually, I probably shouldn't be talking and driving. I think I'll say goodbye now. Bye." **click**

Markus listened to it 4 times and called me laughing uncontrollably. He saved it. Many people have since heard it. This is why I never sing the "Humble me" songs in church. I'm afraid God will actually listen and do it.

The Littlest Blakeling

One year ago, today, my little sister, Julie Ann Blake, was officially (according to the Chinese powers that be) inducted into the Blake family. She refused to eat food, she was not even on the Chinese growth chart (and the Chinese are small!). She was terrified of toys, didn't know how to hug, and was a persistent head-banger. She couldn't walk or crawl and consistently engaged in autistic-like behavior.

Now, one year later she is, (to quote my mother) "most definitely a Blake." She loves to perform, she'll imitate walks, voices, conversations, and actions. She eats more than my teenage brother on pizza night, and is growing a nice little "Buddha belly." She says, "Wassup!" (with hand gestures), she jumps, squeals, and laughs. Her favorite items are pieces of costumes jewelry donated by various older women and some pink paisley sunglasses that she loves to slide down her nose and gaze over in disdain at whoever happens to be in her vicinity. She'll stand in front of the mirror and make herself laugh for as long as we let her. She has a "Mama," "Da," a "Cookie" and an "AlBoo," a "Ver" and an "Ka" who love her so very, very much. She's our joy, our delight, and our Friday night entertainment- our little Bops, Juju Bean, Boperoni, JuAnn, Jules.

She's my little sis.

HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY AS A BLAKE, LIL' BOPS!

God knew you'd be perfect for our family...