Bleh + Birthday = Thumbs Up (but still tired)

Sadly, all of my blogging energy is going into writing the Boyd Street blog, which I don't get to be myself in. For example, I just came home from Doug's. A group of us sat around and read a short by Flannery O'Connor. It was very fun. I wish we did this more often. Once Collin and I went to the Negus's for dinner, and we sat around and read a Shakespearean play. It was AWESOME. But instead of writing what was really on my mind, I had to write what I thought a writer for Boyd Street would say.

That's not to say what I said about judging wasn't entirely unfounded. I did wonder tonight who would read quickly and who would read slowly, and who would act out the story and who would read in monotone (ME). Fortunately, fairly quickly, the Holy Spirit kicked me in the butt and said, ditch the pride, Meggo. Enjoy the company of friends. This is AWESOME.

Well, praise Jehovah.

I could write this whole thing about the Holy Spirit ... after the book study last night with the girls. It was good. The chapter we read was good. Maybe I will find the energy to blog about it tomorrow. But first, sleep.

God bless you, friends. I love you all. And if you haven't heard, we're going to the Royal B. Saturday to celebrate C.'s birthday (and Josh S.'s birthday). It should be a grand old time. Do come.

Boyd Street

So I started a blog for Boyd Street Magazine. I'm the only one writing on it right now, because none of my writers have contributed yet. But they will. I hope. It's not really me writing. It's me trying be someone else while still kind of trying to be me. But Boyd Street has this "voice," see, and I'm supposed to keep that voice alive.

If you're interested, you can check it out at boydstreet.blogspot.com.

The Madness

I was talking to my husband last night before we went to bed and as I sometimes do was stretching while we were talking.

My doctor told me to stretch my hamstrings and strengthen my quadriceps some months ago when I found out I have a "bad knee." I tend to heed his command off and on. Right now is a sort-of "on" period.

My husband looked at me and said, "How are you so limber? Are all girls that limber?" He then attempted to do the stretch I was doing and couldn't. He mentioned how tight his legs were.

I sort of went off.

"You need to stretch every day! You need to not have tight legs! You need to stretch right now!"

I do this all too often. It's like a crazy switch gets flipped, and my eyes get wide, and I shout, "You need to do THIS. You need to do THIS."

I'm not saying I like it. I'm just being honest here.

My husband's reaction was laughter. He then proceeded to tell me all of the things I've been telling him he "needs" to do as of late. Some of these things include:

You need to stretch your legs.
You need to squeeze out the sponge.
You need to put the sponge in the fish!
You need to get a hair cut.
You need to stop picking.
And rubbing your eyes.
You need to sleep later.
etc.

I AM A MONSTER!!!!!

I can't believe this is what I do ... and what he hears. I must stop this controlling madness.

I cannot do it on my own.