Cars are people too

A car can be your best friend or your worst enemy. I’ve learned in my short 12 years of driving that this can be true. I think car ownership has possibly even jaded my world view a bit. I’m not near as trusting as I was at the tender age of 16.
And thus begins a brief history of my automotive life.

We'll start with the first car and gradually continue.

1994- My first car was a blue 1987 Mazda. I named him Melton. Melton seemed like a chariot of freedom but strangely he smelled strongly of gas. I asked my dad if this was odd, as I had splitting headaches from the fumes every time I drove. I’m not just talking a scent….I’m talking OVERWHELMING stench of gas. A year later, when looking under the hood of my car, my dad noticed that gas was actually spurting on the engine. Amazing that I’m alive

Another adventure encountered with Melton:

Suprisingly modern for its age, Melton had a full digital dash; digital odometer, spedometer, gas tank readout. Typically you can depend on such gages, but with Melton, you could only depend on them if the temperature out side was 90 degrees or higher. Needless to say, I got everywhere VERY quickly (it's not speeding if you don't know how fast you are going, right?) and I ran out of gas OFTEN. Seven times? Now don't judge me. You may have run out too in these circumstances. Or maybe not. It did get to where I would call home from some strange place (pre-cell phone days) and say "guess what?" to which my parents would immediately ask "AGAIN?"

I may be the only person on record to get grounded for running out of gas.

I guess that all of us can't be in a hall of fame. But maybe this is mine.

stay tuned for the adventures with Job and Saul.

Kinda fits the "Optimist Club Title" donchathink? (aka...I'm so predictable!)

Your Candy Heart Says "First Kiss"

You're a true romantic who brings an innocent hope to each new relationship.You see the good in every person you date, and you relish each step of falling in love. Your ideal Valentine's Day date: a romantic dinner your sweetie cooks for you Your flirting style: friendly and sweet What turns you off: cynics who don't believe in romance Why you're hot: you always keep the romance alive

What Does Your Candy Heart Say?

Just in case you are wondering...

7 things to do before I die:

1. be in shape
2. be a mom/be a homemaker
3. travel the world
4. be the Hardin-Simmons nurse
5. be married to JB forever
6. live somewhere pretty
7. have a dog named “Aunt Melissa”



7 things i cannot or will not do:

1. Get Rid of Mr. Watson. (so stop asking Joseph)
2. go for long, extended amounts of time without seeing my family
3. stop loving diet Dr. Pepper
4. enjoy working out… sometimes you just have to do things you don’t want to.
5. cut carbs. I’ve already had 4 pieces of bread today and rice and its only 3:00
6. stop loving Joseph
7. dislike someone without a good reason

7 things that attract me to my spouse:

1. his love for Christ and the way he lives that out
2. the way that people are drawn to him
3. his eyes
4. his sweet guitar playing skills
5. the way he makes me laugh all the time
6. he has an inside joke with almost everyone he knows
7. how he truly is my best and favorite friend (stole this quote from a friend-well spoken lh)

7 things i say most often:

1. “where are my keys?"
2. "I really need to get out of bed. I have to be at work in 20 minutes!"
3. "you’re nice" (when I am given a compliment--instead if accepting it and saying "thank you")
4. "anyone want to go to Cold Stone?"
5. "Joseph, can I quit my job and sleep all day?"
6. "I'm really going to start Weight Watchers again tomorrow"
7. "Mr. Watson, Leave it!! Don’t eat pecans!"

7 books or series i love:

1. Christy
2. Redemption series
3. Redeeming Love
4. Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe
5. “When Pixels Speak: Why games deserve free speech, why they will never get free speech” (JB’s dissertation)
6. The Secret Garden
7. Nicholas Sparks books

7 movies i could watch over and over again:
(much to my beloveds chagrin)

1. Sweet Home Alabama
2. The Notebook
3. Legally Blonde
4. While You Were Sleeping
5. White Christmas
6. How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days
7. Wedding Planner

Don't Show All Your Cards

Secrets are not my forte.

Don't misunderstand me. If you tell me something in confidence, most likely it will remain hidden in my thoughts (albeit bouncing around wildly out of control) not to be revealed until given permission. The one whose confidence I betray most is myself.

If I am playing cards, I cannot cope with the knowledge of a great hand- or poor hand for that matter -all to myself. Hints fall out of my mouth, comments are like stray bullets. My face also tells the story. I'm going to leave the Vegas poker tables alone for now.

I don't think even once, Joseph reached a birthday or Christmas without knowing what I bought him.

Today at the gym, I was talking to the GM about payment options; she asked me why I was reticent to sign a year contract. Before tact or reason could take control, I blurted out "Because I'm a flake". Not good, Crista. Who's going to help out a flake. I just might go in my first day and yell, "Please waste your time on me!"

Lastly, a friend pointed out the frailty and transparency of my gift receiving procedure. Have I only been kidding myself? Now, this is the truth. I am always grateful for any gift that anyone gives me. I find that the thoughtfulness and sacrifice touch me far deeper than the quality of the product. That being said, I have realized that If I receive something that is not exactly what I would have chosen, I will compliment it on one particular attribute. For example, "Thank you for the bright orange Mohair sweater. Its so soft!" In actuality, "soft" does not win a sweater its way into my wardrobe. "Cute" is the ranking factor. Its just true. But the eternal optimist in me will bring these accolades to the surface.

Well, now that's great. I just showed you all my cards. Christmas should be fun.

I'm Alive

I survived my second attempt at skiing! I will fill you in on my first attempt so that you can have an idea of how joyous my victory was!

The year was 1995, the place Angel Fire, New Mexico. I was a confident 17 year old joining this world of skiers that I had heard so much about.

I gathered my equipment and headed to ski school. My instructor was a frenchman named Jean Marie (make sure you read his name with a French accent). The humiliation began at that moment. 12 year olds quickly picked up Jean Marie's instruction while I struggled to stay on my feet in line for my turn to snow plow. It was my turn and I fell flat on my rear end!

Jean Marie tried to help me up but in the process, my ski whipped around and slammed him in the knee. He hobbled and cursed under his breath at the injury. He released everyone to the slopes and turned to me, pointed and said "YOU Are not ready! Come back to ski school this afternoon."

I Failed Ski School!!

Dejected, I tried to ski down the bunny slope towards my cabin. After falling 3 times, I removed my skis and trudged home. I spent the rest of the weekend watching "The Breakfast Club". Four times.

I'm proud to report that this weekend, after a morning and 1/2 afternoon of falling and crying, I finally became one of you.... a skier.

The irony....I not too intelligently undertook this challenge while my insurance was on hiatus (due to comapany billing mix up) but I left the slopes unscathed. And hour later, however, in the shower, the shampoo bottle fell on my foot causing my only injury.

I'm healing fine, though, now...thank you for asking.

Jan 12, 2006...A Return to Blogging

I'm excited to see "The Pastor's Wife", "My favorite Brother whose name is Brad" and "Tex" back with new posts today after an extended break. They are all great posts. Check them out with my conveniently located links to the right.
Have a great day. I'm learning how to ski this weekend maybe, so there may be much fodder for this blog page when I return.

Foot in Mouth

I have to tell a story on My beloved--BurroJoe.

The day after we were married we were on our way toward south Texas, our honeymoon destination.

As is policy whenever one is near, we stopped to eat at Cracker Barrell. A beautiful May afternoon lured us out to sit in the rocking chairs on the front porch as we waited for our table.
As we were waiting, we heard on the intercom "Rick, party of one, Rick Party of one, your table is ready".

Rick stood up from a rocking chair down from ours and began walking toward us in the direction of the restaurant door.

Not noticing this BurroJoe then very loudly quipped, in Rick's earshot "Who eats alone? Rick Party of One!! HA! Loser Party of one! That's what that means." I was horrified!

Sorry Rick. I bet you aren't a loser, but if you are we probably shouldn't have rubbed it in.

Grandma Lucy

For Christmas Day, we went to Perryton, Texas to Grandma Lucy's house. Grandma is lots of fun, cooks really well and she can quote the entire Bible (nearly).

I'll give you just a glimpse of this fun loving lady with a few quotes.

Playing cards:
"I'm not being nice, I'm just trying to beat you"
"Play 'til you win or you won't sleep well"
"I always play to win" (even against a 4 year old!)
"We can't stop now, its only midnight. Renee will play with me until 2 am"
"Crista thinks she's too special to shuffle cards" I really just forgot to help.

Meal time:
"I know you just ate breakfast at 11:30, but its 12 and its dinner time"
"You have to have 5 things on your plate and butter doesn't count"
"I don't eat very much dinner, then I wouldn't have room for candy"
"Nobody ever leaves my house hungry"

On Nutrition:
"They say dark chocolate is better for you than milk chocolate, because it has more cocoa. I don't like dark chocolate so I just eat twice as much milk chocolate for the benefits"
"For dinner last night I had candy"

Miscellaneous:
When I was fixing her shirt collar she said "Its no use, it won't help this galloping horse"
When she was offered a drink with dinner she said "No thanks, I'm driving to town later" (We meant water, she was kidding, of course)
When I answered the door bell at her house she was standing outside and said "I just wanted to know if you liked me enough to let me in."
When I filled out her Mary Kay order form on Christmas Day, I absentmindedly asked the day's date. She asked "Do you sell any smart pills?"

There are tons more stories that may come out later. She's just such a special lady. She's the youngest 85 year old I've even met!

Best in Class

Just a thought that occurred to me in the many hours we've already logged on the freeway this holiday season......

Don't you think the person driving the big trucks labeled "Flammable" should be valedictorian of truck driving school or, at the very least, employee of the month? That, then, may cut out the fear that we experienced as the Flammable truck swerved in and out of our lane of traffic. Maybe this driver was a fill in because of Christmas vacation. That's what I choose to believe. The Valedictorian will be back after New Year's.

Are my expectations too high? I feel about the same with brain surgeons and bomb squad leaders.

Possible

As is common in the world of nursing I was helping a woman with a bedside bath. This consists of a bucket of soapy water and wash cloths...just so you get a picture. The woman I was assisting was a delightful woman, fun to talk to. I was setting up the supplies for her bath when she said "Well, do you know how to wash Grandma?"

"What?" I asked, confused.

She grinned and answered, "We'll wash grandma as far down as possible, then we'll wash as far up as possible, then we'll wash Possible!"

That was the first time I'd heard it put that way!

Common Ground

From time to time I have a patient that speaks only Spanish. I don’t speak much Spanish, so the time I spend caring for those patients tends to be quiet or filled with frustrated attempts on either side to make needs known. Without fail however, there has always been common ground provided by pop culture.

For instance, after almost an entire shift of barely communicating with one gentleman, I motion that I need to plug in his IV pump, as the batteries were running down. The bright light of understanding appeared in his eyes as he enthusiastically sang “Plug eet eehn, Plug eet eehn!” Thank you Glade!

Another example, I tried to communicate to a man on strict bed rest to use the handheld urinal if he needed to urinate. I held it up and said “el bano”- Spanish for “bathroom”. His eyes got very wide and frightened and in perfect English asked, “Number one or number two?”
Thank you, moms everywhere!

Lastly, I cared for a blind Spanish speaking woman. Even though I placed the call bell in her hand, she preferred screaming her requests. One day I heard her screaming “senorita, necesita caca!” meaning “miss, I need to #*&$!!” Thank you cussing guy in Spanish class!

Did you know I'm the devil?

I happened upon Mrs. Schmidt* as she was walking out of her hospital room ripping her clothes off yelling "Schmitty! Schmitty!"

"Mrs Schmidt, what's the matter?", I asked.

"I'm looking for Schmitty"

"Who's Schmitty?"

At that moment Mrs. Schmidt's eyes narrowed into a quintessential GTH look. "Don't give me that. You know exactly who Schmitty is. Schmitty is my husband!! Where is he...you know where he is!!"

Shocked I responded "Mrs Schmidt I do not know your husband or where your husband is, let me help you to bed where you can rest"

"NO! I'm going to the bathroom." I helped her in the bathroom and before I could leave she got an evil look in her eye and said "I Hate YOU. I know who you are. YOU ARE THE DEVIL!!!"

Spent, I glared straight back in her eyes and said "Mrs. Schmidt, I've been here helping you all day and the least you could do is treat me with kindness"

She only glared at me with the same hatred and said "You are all the same. everyone of you."

I just let it go and helped her to bed and prayed very hard that she would fall asleep so I could get my work done. An hour later, I walked hesitantly into Mrs. Schmidt's room to find a pleasant, well rested lady who turned to me and exclaimed "There's my favorite girl! I love you!"

True Story.

What's the Deal?

Just a little thought... How ironic is it that on the last Thursday of November every year we use our vacation time to have a feast to celebrate all we are thankful for and then on the last Friday of November every year is the most violent shopping day of the year. You can almost hear the "gimme, gimme, gimme's" ringing out all over America.
Most of those people we saw on TV practically killing each other for a discounted TV most likely went straight home and ate left overs from the aforementioned feast of thankfulness.
Ironic.

Of Course!

On one particular Friday 2 weeks ago, I really wanted an Arby's Sandwich. I could taste it. Its actually been years since I ate Arby's so who knows why I had such a hankering for it. I drove through Arby's on my way home from running errands.

I was sitting in the middle lane of the street waiting to turn left to go home. A homeless man in a wheelchair was holding a cardboard sign that said he was hungry. I quickly deduced that it was not God's will to give him my sandwich. I was in the middle lane, not the left lane, after all. Then I realized I was lying to myself and that I would never enjoy that sandwich when someone blocks from my home was hungry. The light turned green so I turned left and looped around the freeway back to give the man my lunch.

When I made it back to the intersection, I noticed my poor friend in a wheel chair had been booted from his corner by another, younger man, who was holding his own sign. I felt the Lord tell me that it was not my call who I was to feed, I was just to be obedient. So, I rolled down my window and asked the man if he was hungry. "OH Yes, Ma'am!!" was his quick answer. I handed him my Arby's bag and felt a little better that I could help my fellow man.

As I drove through the light, I noticed the man in the wheelchair under the bridge. I decided to loop back around and stop at Arby's to replace my sandwich and get one for the man who first got me on this mission. I was too embarrassed to drive through Arby's again, so I went inside and asked for 2 sandwiches each in a different bag. No eye contact, no questions, I just wanted to give the man some roast beef and be on my way.

I made it back to the intersection and drove up to feed the man in the wheelchair, and wouldn't you know he had a friend with him. I rolled down my window and reluctantly handed them both bags. Full of thankfulness, the men shouted "God bless you, baby!"

I drove off. 30 minutes, and 3 homeless men later I had no Arby's sandwich, and there was NO WAY this fat kid was going back to Arby's for the third run in 30 minutes.

I drove home and ate a bowl of cereal.

What I "Use-ta Think" Part II

The appendix is what collects all the pennies you swallow
(in a nursing school lecture I had a moment where I said….wait a minute…..)

I actually was Wonder Woman whenever I had my costume on

Holly would really stop being my best friend if I didn’t lose the “math bee” on purpose (we’ve been best friends for 27 years…but I did lose the math bee on purpose so I guess we’ll never know :) j/k Holly)

The Sonic sign said “Happy Easter” (It really said Happy Eating)

Maxi pads were for women’s bras

My dolls would get jealous if they did not rotate who got to sleep by me.

Every hairy fat man was a kidnapper.

What did you “Use-ta think?”

What I “Use-ta Think” Part I

When asked if I wanted to go to heaven someday, I asked for the option of coming back after a short visit there.

The way you got to heaven was Jesus flew down to get you and you put on your superman cape and flew up to heaven with him. Imagine my horror and grief when my sister sold my superman cape in our neighbor’s garage sale. I thought I had lost my salvation.

For those without superman capes, God made staircases (what I now know to be jet exhaust) for them to climb to heaven

When you “gave your offering to God” at church, the offering counters would put it in the plate and set it in the middle of the aisle after the church service and it would levitate up to heaven while the counters peeked through the sanctuary doors.

Witnessing to my friends meant taking my Sunday School book to school and telling everyone they better come to our bible study at recess if they didn’t want to go to hell.

What did you "Use-ta Think" about God and heaven?
(Next issue will address all the other aspects of life)

Mrs. Miller again

The next day I returned to work and who was on my patient load again but Mrs. Miller. I can’t remember if she was still seeing the little boys in bear suits or not, but I’ll tell you what I do remember about that day.

It was time for Mrs. Miller’s bed bath. She was a paraplegic and needed 2 of us to bathe her. My co-worker Janeen and I were half way through with the routine, chatting about something unimportant, when we hear Mrs. Miller exclaim “Gentlemen, DO YOU MIND! I’m getting a bath!”

I caught Janeen’s eye and we gave each other a strange look. Here we go again.

“Mrs. Miller, what is it?” I probed.

“ Don’t you see those men in the room watching me bathe?”

“Mrs. Miller,” I say in my sweetest, non-judgmental voice, “there are no men in here. It’s just you and me and Janeen and we will make sure the gentlemen stay out until you are clothed”

This calmed her down for a bit, but in mid scrub she yells again, “ GENTLEMEN, REALLY!!”

There was no winning. So right then and there I scolded those men and informed them to leave the room immediately.

Hey, there is a time and a place to talk to imaginary people, and I’m certain that was one of those times.

Mrs Miller*

“Do I really have to go to work today?” I whined to Joseph. “I have to take care of Mrs. Miller again and she calls for me every 30 minutes”

In the dreary midst of my whining I had no idea of the entertainment that would be this day.

I was right. From 7:00am to 10:30am, religiously Mrs. Miller rang her call bell. “Send me that nurse!” Then, I got busy and looked up at around 11:15…no call from Mrs. Miller.

My first thought was “Oh, NO! She’s dead!” I rushed to her room to make sure I’m wrong. I opened the door and peeked in.

“Oh, do close the door!” she begs. I’m ok with this. I know she’s alive and I have tons to do.

Another hour passes. No call from Mrs. Miller. I’ve got to know what’s going on. I went back to her room and open the door and begin a shallow “how are you” conversation with her. She seemed panicked. “Please close the door! You’ll let them out!”

“Let who out, Mrs. Miller?"

“The little boys in bear suits, giving me a magic show from atop that cabinet”

Mrs. Miller was usually quite sane and spry. I tried the technique of reorienting her to her surroundings. “Mrs. Miller, I do not see these little boys in bear suits”

“ Oh you should,” she replied, “They are fabulous!”

I tried again, “Have you seen these boys before?”

“No, are they local people?”

There was no reality to be introduced to her. I then learn that they entered her room through the hole in the tree outside her room. I called the doctor to report this mental status change, as is protocol.

He responded “I did not order little boys in bear suits! Well, is she happy? Then let her keep them”

Thank goodness! I had so much to do. And Mrs. Miller’s “babysitters” kept her entertained for the rest of my 12-hour shift!

I can’t make this stuff up!

Mrs. Jones* The Final Chapter

On a heartwarming note-- one day a co-worker “Miss Inella” (as named by Mrs. Jones) and I were assisting Mrs. Jones. I asked her to “tell me why you love God today.”

“Oh, I love the Lord because he blesses us!” Here is a woman who is medically fragile, that needs me to feed her and provide her every need, whose family is too far away to even visit her or escort her back to the nursing home and she is exuberant about how the Lord blesses us.

I looked over toward “Miss Inella” and she had tears in her eyes. She is not a Christian, and to hear this woman’s testimony of God’s blessing must have really spoken to her heart. I know it changed my entire worldview at that moment.

Whether she asks for a warm blanket, chitlins, or thanks the Lord in her circumstances, certainly she lends a fresh light on living a life that embodies Phillipians 4:6.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”

When they finally allowed her to go home from the hospital, they wheeled her down the hall in a gurney. I said, “I love you Mrs. Jones, and God loves you.”

And I heard her voice clearly as she moved farther away. “He blesses us! Thank the Lord for you, Sista Crista”

Thank the Lord for Mrs. Jones.

stay tuned for the adventures of Mrs. Miller*.

Mrs. Jones Part III
(we’re almost finished!)

“Mrs. Jones Do you know my name?”. Probably I asked this question for a little entertainment on my part. I knew she didn’t know. I knew that she could distinguish me from others, as everyone had a different moniker besides their own name. The only one she called by their real name was the cute male night nurse, Jesse. She started calling for him the minute she heard his voice at shift change. The ladies always know, I guess. “Why sure, your name is Miss Betty”, She answered.

“No, Mrs. Jones, my name is Crista”. Her reply has now become legend.

“Oh Thank the Lord for Sista Crista!”

And that is how one of my nicknames was born.