Since the highlight of my day yesterday was spotting the new grape-flavored gum in the CVS, this might be a sign that I need some excitement in my life.
Or, it’s a sign that I have issues with gum. Or that I just need to quit being so dramatic. (The answer lies somewhere between the last two.)
The bona fide highlight of my day was hanging out with Luke, who stayed home from school because he had some kind of upset stomach. And when I say upset stomach, I’m talking about the kind that came into our bedroom in the middle of the night.
It was kind of awesome to have him around all day, even though he wasn’t feeling so swell. Mostly because I didn’t feel guilty for watching Space Jam in lieu of other household responsibilities. (Which is why the Dalke house is not a strong candidate for home school.) (Know thyself.)
But moving on.
In light of my track record in the kitchen, its seems somewhat noteworthy to mention that I cooked the best dinner ever on Sunday evening. Although I probably owe an apology to the pastor of my parent’s church. I mean, it was imperative that I incessantly re-dial my mother until she finally answered. Never mind that yes, I knew they would be in the middle of church, because Sunday evening of course; and yes, I may have called with the persistence of someone who needed 911.
But my okra depended on it. (And I’m sure the Lord understood.)
The bonus is that Mom passed along a kitchen tip that just might change my life altogether. She told me that my stove has a setting other than high…and that if I use it, my cook-to-burn ratio might decrease. Come to think of it, this may very well be some version of a kitchen-like gospel that saves my food from the flames of hell or something. (So in that sense, her pastor should be proud.)
You see, there is always hope, friends. And God still works miracles.
On another note, Opening Day for spring baseball is this coming weekend. If you don’t know this about me, it’s a critical piece of information: I am one of those baseball moms who gets really into it. (And that’s me trying to play it cool, as though I never-ever raise my voice, or feel like I might have a heart attack in the middle of the 3rd inning.)
Because of my tendency to get over-excited and take Little League way too seriously, I’ve already set some boundaries for the upcoming season:
- I will not say anything during a game that doesn’t qualify as gracious and encouraging. In other words, I may not talk a lot at first, but that’s because I’m probably praying.
- I won’t yell instructions at Luke before every pitch. Because really, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t listen anyway. Plus, his father takes plenty care of all that.
- I will carry a bible verse in my head to every game. Since that’s my only hope for low blood pressure.
This will go down as yet another real life proof that God works miracles. And I’m only being half-sarcastic. Because seriously.
Speaking of miracles, I started working out again. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve legitimately dedicated myself to regular workouts other than a semi-weekly run. Which means that by the time the warm-up is over, I’m already tired. It’s basically as awesome as it sounds. (Especially because of the 9 year old who mocks my push-ups.) And by the end of every workout, I’m wondering how in the world this could be the same body I used in high school basketball practice.
(I’m not even being dramatic.)
So that’s the story around here today. I couldn’t even make this awesomeness up if I tried.
See you soon…
Join us on the bleachers!
This is where you sign up for your own special seat on the bleachers.
You'll get every new blog post hand-delivered to your inbox, and you'll also get the *cool, free stuff* reserved only for subscribers.
(It's sort of like VIP, club-level tickets.) (Except totally free.)