Pickin your nose

Dori here,
I realize it has been a good while since the last little blogger blog blog. Many excuses come to mind such as: "I've been busy." "My life has taken a turn in another direction." "My computer has been out of order." "I suffered a TBI secondary to not taking my profs advice and forking out the doe for a new helmet (as he put it: $50 or a TBI) as mine has superficial cracks from falling on the ground...and then having the bike land on it."
As you can see, none of these warrent or are even true enough for me to pass the buck on my absence from days with dori land.
So, what has been happening in my wee little brain recently, well aside from not suffering a TBI, i have learned a lot, added to what's already there, and made a few new discoveries about myself. One of the new things that I was thinking upon previous to employing my fingers for the current task of typing, was the age old question, which is 'Do you pick your nose?' Granted, one might not hear this question in the spoken form often, but that by no means is an indication that it is not lingering in the back of someone's mind. Oh no, we all wonder who does it. Who are the true nose pickers out there. At times it is not a hidden fact. We've all peeked in the window of the next driver over at a stop light to catch them in the act. Then there's the guy shuffling along in Wal-mart or standing mulling over which movie to pick out that unconsciously and unashamedly points finger and inserts into nostril in broad daylight.
I am not judging mind you. To each his own. I find it down right hilarious to see a kid digging away only to have mom reach over and hit his/her hand away only to reinsert the moment she goes about her business. Which brings me to the next key point of nose picking. What to do with the gold nugget once it's out of the treasure chest? Whew, this is a hard one cover. Reason says to some put it back in another orifice as quick as possible. To these booger eaters I have one thing to say...noooooo don't do it, oohh aahhh...too far away slow motion kicking in with hand raising and...(grimace, half-turn away, but still watching like a bad car wreck)...too late. Of those folk I am not a fan, though I do understand their reasoning. It is a challenge to find a tasteful (no pun intended) and descrete way of disposing of the aforementioned booger. When one flick of the finger doesn't do the trick, or the second or third, drastic times call for drastic measures. I have encountered the super sticker. You know this kind, it will not budge, it's like a bad mime trick only this time it's real; the goo transfers finger to finger to thumb to finger as you try to flick and whip and finger nail it off of there. No such luck. Each individual has their patented next more whether it is the most hygenic kleenex grab, the stretch and wipe on some upholstered object, or the flagrant transfer to personal clothing because by now the energy is gone to cover up the done deed.
Ah yes, it's sad but true. We've all been there, some more recently than others. Some more admittently than others.
Hello, my name is Dori. I am a night picker. My last pick was about 20 minutes ago.
:)

Without the cape hes just a mouse...

Mighty Mouse is my hero, hands down the best super hero ever dreamed up. Today I was running on the treadmill (blah, not a favorite of mine, but it was dark and cold out) and my mind started to wander. I thought of the days of old when the three mile easy days were like sweet nectar of the gods that we cherished almost as much as our two hour dinners in Baldwin. Then my mind turned to the not as long gone days when I would gather stares and comments just by wearing my cut-off and carrying a tray in the aforementioned Baldwin. Finally in comes Mighty Mouse, and the fond memory I had of winning the category of best costume at the "superhero skate night" at the local roller rink.
It makes you thimk...did Mighty Mouse (MM) work out? where did he get that stunning outfit? without the cape is he just a regular mouse?
Though I do not know the answer to the first two questions, I feel the correct reply to the third is yes. Yes, minus the superhero get up I bet he still enjoyed a bit of cheese for dinner like the rest of us. I'm sure when he went to bed at night in his little hideout that he sometimes talked in his sleep, tossed and turned over the events of the day, or slept the whole night through from complete exhaustion.
MM is my inspiration. I want to wake up every morning, put on my cape in the form of the armor of God that is supplied in an unknown way and on the moment's request. I recognize that without the supernatural power that He gives I am simply a human, bound to stumble, stutter, and see things less than clearly (not to mention that reading glasses would be huge as my computer is closer than normal to my face).
Ah Mighty Mouse, we will go far me and you...no matter the physical shape, we will try, we will fight, we will train our bodies, but knowoing all the while that we need the super hero powers that only God can provide to do the life changing, eternity impactiing sort of super hero things.

Be Still

Be still and know that I am God - Psalm 46

This morning reading "The Knowledge of the Holy" by A.W. Tozer I run across this piece that speaks directly to my unsettled insides in light of the start of another semester manana. It said this: Modern Christianity is simply not producing the kind of Chrisitan who can appreciate or experience the life in the Spirit. the words, "Be still, and know that I am God," mean next to nothign to the self-confident, bustling worshiper in this middle period of the twentieth century.

I add in now in the beginning of the 21st century how much more true is that statement .? Just the mere thought of beginning a new period of this journey called "grad" school makes my blood pressure rise and sends my heart into atrial fibrilation. It is just at that moment, as always seems to happen (probably b/c He knows all, sees all, feels all) that something like that preface and running across Psalm 46, the whole chapter, that sends a peace to my fluttering heart.

It is in these moments of relaxation where grace abounds all the more. It is in these final hours of freedom that I ask the timeless question what kind of excuse is it to say "I/He/She am/is in grad school," and thereby makes it okay to busy ourselves bey9ond understanding. I am a literal, realist, don't talk b.s. kind of person who is all about putting the money where the mouth is and whatever other clever saying you care to think up. Basically, I am tougher on myself that need be, then others would dare and I'm thinking it's time for no more excuses . It's time to take and make the time to invest in the relationships throughout the day. Take the time to investigate a place to go to grow and worship and learn about a diferent culture, language, and people. Stop the distractions, sit, breathe, meditate, chew the cud like a cow does only use the Word of God (attribute that one to church this a.m. where this concept of being still came up again at the end of Psalm 46.) Like I always say I not be the sharpest crayon in the box, but when God puts the same color crayon in front of your face three times in a row...I can figure out I probably need to recongize and pick up on something.

so until 10a.m. tomorrow I will definitely be still. After that even no excuse not to be still and know that He is God.

Stubborn

Today I became a Pandora user. I've known about it for a while and feigned interest when others talked about it. One could blame it on grad school life as to why I never took the time to sign up and create my own radio stations to play according to my whims; I attribute it to my stubborness.

A favorite story of my mom's is her sharing of my most used phrase as I went through the terrible twos, threes, fours...etc. "I do it myself," the toddling youngster proclaimed. That was probably right before, after, or somewhere in the mix as to the time I told my dad that the spanking he just expended "didn't hurt"; I didn't repeat that phrase a minute later. Again, stubborn? I think so.

I retell these tales to give you a bit of humor in your day, let you know a bit more about me, but most of all to see how far I've come, or haven't I?
I mean honestly, I no longer throw temper tantrums and get all red in the face over minimal things. I do go out for long hard runs or lifting sessions and get all red in the face over things that prick me in the wrong place.
Really, I have changed; I no longer stuff back the tears and act all tuff and indifferent when people come and go. Well, okay we're still working on that one.
Seriously, I mean who would still make their mom's Christmas present using paint, glue, the occasional glitter, patchwork of memories really? Ummm...gosh, this isn't working out for me.
Okay, so my point being, I have grown, we all do. There are things I think, contemplate, live for that were not on the radar years ago. Does this make me a completely different person? No, God created my personality and personally placed it inside of me to make me who I am then and now. Sure, I've refined it, learned when to control different parts of it, identified certain redeeming qualities that it brings forth, repented for those that i have trouble harnessing, and I'm still a work in progress. The stubborn thing, it's always gonna be there. Deal with it.

I think being stubborn's a good thing. I am too stubborn to stop believing I can make my body my slave (1 Corinthians 9:27) and it will carry me many, many more miles before it gets a long rest. I am so stubborn that I think all my prayers will be answered and every person will answer directly to Jesus one day. I am stubborn enough to entertain thoughts of my future as pole-vault coach, dance instructor (for friends of course:), part-time international PT clinic worker, 70.3 Ironman woman, professor to those needing professing, the list goes on, really wherever, whenever, whomever, however God wants me. Yeah, I'd call that stubborn.