The silent blogger

Ok so maybe I don't post that often, and I'm not too good at this, but its mainly for the ones that asked it of me. since I don't write e-mails that much anymore, and people wonder what I'm up to.
Dear Lord that was a mouthful.
But yet they still wonder what I'm up to cause I don't post on this darned thing that much at all. Cause, well frankly, I don't ever know what to say. (isn't that absurd?)
Anyhow, it has been said, I think one too many times, that a picture is worth a thousand words. So here are a few that have been taken in the last few days.

This is my brother Nathan, his wife Ali, and their two adorable kids, Alex, and Benji

<- Myself, Gabe and Mel

beautiful women, myself, Mel, Ali, Pri, and Anj

Myself and Mel in our c'mas attire.

My family: Nathan, Myself, Ali, my Dad, Mom, Alex and Benji

The parents and myself

Me and Ali

the nut of the family my dad

I've been caught

aren't they just so cute? Ali and Nathan

My little cowboy

Alex (such a cutie)

Myself, Pri, and Mel

I'm a cowgirl

YEE HAW!!

Mel is a sexy one she is ( I just love this photo I took of her)

Ali, isn't she beautiful (I took this photo as well)

Ok, maybe I overdid it with so many photos, but there were so many to choose from I didn't know which to post. So I chose the best and posted them. I've been having fun in mex so far, as you can tell by the photos. But photos don't always do memories justice. Some things I just can't put down on paper or capture in a photo

Mythos signs out

Mental blockages

Why is it that every time I sit down to write of something that happened to me recently. My mind just goes blank. Is it some kind of mental thing to where my brain just shuts down as soon as I sit down to write something? It has happened to me almost every single time I want to post something. Nothing comes, I'll sit there, write a line then erase it cause it just doesn't come out sounding right.
You see, I sat down here right now to write about the trip to mexico, but my mind just went totally berserk and blanked out on me. It might either be a severe case of writers blockage, or the result of an oncoming headache. Either way, my brain is dead...but I just won't give in, so here I am trying again because I know I'll never write about it if I don't write about it now.

We left around 4pm yesterday afternoon to first drive all the way from Houston to Austin Texas, where we ditched our van and all piled into Nathans vehicle (we all meaning my parents and I, plus our luggage). It wasn't so bad at first, because there were only four of us in the car, but we still had to pick up Nathan and Gabe from somewhere near San Antonio (Brian was driving the vehicle at the time of our switching). So to start out it wasn't all half bad, but then, we found out that we had to stuff more luggage and presents into the already stuffed vehicle, that I could foresee would barely hold us all as is. But stuff we did, more luggage, presents and Nathan and Gabe. All into the van. I got the unfortune seat against the window, where to my horror, I was squished, jolted and crushed. There is nothing that describes the uncomfortable night that I spent in that car. (Needless to say I didn't sleep all that much last night.) I maybe caught perhaps in all 2 hours of sleep in that car, but it was nearly impossible seeing as I had no room to stretch my legs out and they were cramping up horridly, and I had my mother sleeping on my shoulder which squished me into the side of the van, and she had my dad sleeping on her shoulder which squished her into me, and me even further into the side of the van. I was terribly uncomfortable, but I survived.
Around 1:30am everyone decides that its time for breakfast...yes breakfast. They just couldn't possibly wait for a decent hour and decided to stop at the first whataburger they saw. Everyone kept asking me if I was hungry or not. I looked at them as if they were out of their minds and asked "are you kidding? its 1am." To which they replied, "yeh, so? breakfast time." All I could do was shake my head and hope that whatever they were suffering from wasn't contagious. Sadly it was, for I succombed to the slight hunger I felt and decided to get some hash browns. I proceeded to ask my mother for a dollar for them, all she said in response was "don't you have your own allowance to spend?" A impish grin appeared on her face, I laughed in return. Then Gabe feeling sorry for my obvious plight, proceeded to hand me a dollar for my hash browns. Brian and my dad dug change out of their pockets for me as well. Then my mom confessed she was just joking and they could take their money back, she'd give me the dollar. Too late though, it seems that she lost her crown that night because they all flatly refused. (Later they decided that I was the official change collecter and that any extra change would go to me, boy I'm going to be rich!)
Luckily, the trip wasn't as boring as I thought it would be, 20 long hours in a car can be pretty taxing with nothing to do. But my trusty mother brought with her a handy little booklight which I put to good use till the batteries went out right on the last page of my book. Then someone had brought a DVD player and some DVDs. So my mom and I stayed up and watched "Lara Croft The Cradle of Life". After that, we drifted off to sleep. Or at least my mother did, while I was subject to being squished for the rest of the night.
Its strange that when traveling I can either sleep a whole lot, or just barely enough, in this case it was barely enough. But I have have survived thus far.
This morning I had the utter shock while visiting a rest room at one of the many stops we made, that there were no seats on the toilets. I was mortified, here I am, an american girl that has never known a toilet without a toilet seat. Probably the first of culture shock that has hit me since entering mexico. But since there was no where else to go, I gave in and just squatted like every other person did. Why there were no toilet seats, I have no idea, but this mystery must be solved.
Around 10:00am we stopped for a brunch, of fried chicken, biscuits, french fries, and mashed potatoes. Not your all Mexican meal, but it was good. The rest of the day was spent driving, and more driving, and guess what, even more driving.
We finally arrived around 3 or 4 this afternoon, I'm not exactly sure, since I have no time telling device that works right now.

end of boring transmition

Over-cooked

It's strange that a lot of inspirations to write usually come to me when I'm out ballooning. I'm in the middle of making a balloon and some word or phrase will suddenly give me an inspiration to write it down on paper. Sometimes it comes out in pure eloquence, like I'm writing liquid, and other times it comes out in spurts, like I'm choking to get every word out. The latter happens more often than the former I'm afraid.
Thus the following...

Murder, she purred
Through silken sheets
And dimming lights
As the clocks count
She purred again
The yarn unwound
Lay draped across
Alabaster
Time was murdered
The yarn lay dead
Red streamed on silk
As she just purred
Cooing beneath
Murder, death, strife
*End*

That was an inspiration that hit me while ballooning at IHOP. From where it stemmed, I have no clue. But it just came, in little spurts as you can see.

Anyhow, there was something else Iwas going to say, but it has been cooking in my brain for a while today, and I fear that it may turn out a bit over cooked in the end. (there goes the fire alarm!) So sadly, it has been thrown out the window.
My brain has died, my thoughts have flown, and all that is left, is an empty head.

the myth, signs out

Two years have gone, and so has she

It was brought to my attention during Activated meeting tonight, that two years ago today, Megan passed on to her reward, thus explains what this post is about, and what I will write.

It was a normal day, just like any other, we went about our jobs, our lives in normalacy, slacked off here and there, yet something was wrong. We felt it, ever so slightly, but didn't acknowledge it, till the day was our own, till we could pause to reflect on our own time. I remember that tight feeling in my throat, that knot in my stomach, and the urgency to write. What I wrote, I cannot remember for it is not important, its what happened thats important.
My sister, and a friend, both caught the urgency in the spirit as well, and retreated to their own places of solitude to pour the feelings they felt out, each in their own way.
My friend, down to the broken bridge at the end of our property, to cry, and scream, and cry some more. She felt, she heard, she sensed that something was wrong, something was not right. She felt as if someone needed to scream, but couldn't. And she let the feeling loose in her. She cried till there were no more tears, and she screamed till her voice was hoarse. Yet still, there was that urgency in the air, an urgency to pray, for that someone that could not scream for themselves.
My sister, retreated to her room, in the dusty little camper, and poured out her heart on paper. Verses came, poetry, prose, all of it not about the joys of life, not about giving of life, but the taking of it, giving it up.
We all poured out our hearts in our own ways that night, not knowing why we felt the way we did, not knowing that the other felt the same.
The next day, the dreaded news, "Megan is in the hospital and we don't know if she will make it, she has had numerous strokes, and is in a coma. we need to pray for her"*
We were shocked. The few sensitive ones in the home, began crying, and praying desperately for her. Calling on the keys and claiming the Lords promises that he had given.
The most shocking part of the news, was the fact that it had happened the night before, the night when all of us sensed that something was wrong, something was amiss. And someone needed prayer.

I didn't know her as well as some, I wasn't a close friend of hers, I'm not part of her family, but I did think of her as a friend.
I must admit that sometimes I was envious of her, for having all the guys chase her and being left out of the lime light. At parties she was surrounded by them; and me, I stared sullenly and wished I was her. Wished I could be like her, and wondered what it was about her that all the guys liked.
I remember admiring her for how on fire for the Lord she was, and how much she could probably do for the Lord. I remember sitting next to her in inspiration and how I tried my hardest to hit all the same notes as she did, thinking that she had such a wonderful voice, and how I wished mine would sound like that.
I know I probably said some things about her that I shouldn't have had. Thought some things that weren't nice, and I won't justify myself by saying that we all do, because that wouldn't be right.
I cried many tears when I had heard of what had happened. I was sorry for all the things I had said, and thought about her. For I knew I would probably never see her again, but hoped I would so that I could apologize for all the things I'd thought about her, even though I knew she didn't even know about it.
I cried, I prayed, I wrote, I implored the Lord to spare her life, because she could be so mightily used of him here on this earth. I thought that she still had so much to accomplish here, so much to do. But the Lord had bigger plans for her.
Every new update about her situation had us on our knees crying out the Lord to spare her, and give her back life. Raise her from the dead, so to speak, yet he didn't. His ways are not our ways. His thoughts, not our thoughts. I know our prayers didn't go unanswered, they couldn't have been, he just used them in a different way. He is still using her, but up there, and she is more alive than ever now. So he has, risen her from the dead in a way, but not back to this earth,but to live eternally with Him.

*I know I didn't add all the facts to it, its the just brief of what happened. Of what we heard on that day, since all the facts weren't disclosed, from what I can remember at least. So forgive me if I didn't expound.

the days of ballooning

I've decided that my baby blog, has started out really boring.
But I do have a good excuse for it, my life hasn't been that exciting as of late.
but enough of that. I shall talk about my day ballooning
It was a pretty normal ballooning day, complete with an annoying manager that always threatens to throw me out with the trash (no, he's not that kind to me.)
He even got Livi going on about it, encouraging him and the like (and she was supposed to be on my side) sniffle, whatever happened to girls sticking together against the guys, nobody loves me
I had to defend my own honor, against 3 people (he got another manager of the place to go along with it as well) and I did a hell of a job at it, I'm not that used to defending my right to living amongst normal people and not with peoples stinking leftover rotting lunches.
But in the end they gave up, and left me alone, just like they always do when I stand my ground and dare them to take one step towards throwing me in the dumpster. (can't you just see me doing that?)
Anyhow, after that the day went pretty well, made a lot of balloons for screaming children, and annoying adults. I got dead tired at around 6pm but then had to keep on dishing out the balloons, for the demands were plenteous but the laborers were few.
And so since the rest of the day went on pretty normally, I shall end this and not bug you further

myth signs out

Empty, yet fulfilled

Ahh, there is nothing like an empty house
No noise, no screaming children
Just me, my silence, and a computer
But then the occasional outburst from a lingering child interrupts my silent reverie and startles me back to reality, where I find myself remembering that it is impossible to actually daydream of being in an empty house with 24 people living in it.
Of course the fact that 6 people are away at a teen camp brings the numbers down a bit, and then the Stone's and their Pebbles are away for the better part of the day, so that brings it down some more. And a few other people are missing here and there for their doctors appointments and visits with friends.
So for the most part, the house is empty.
And I get to enjoy at least part of the day in peace.

the myth signs out

enter: blogger

Thus I find myself creating a blog

and entering into a world of the unknown

Of sharing my thoughts and inner emotions with the world

To a certain extent at least.