tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43452522424819695462024-03-21T07:19:26.952-07:00OUT OF CALIFORNIALET'S NOT MISS THE MAJESTYbETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-66554224511136002662010-08-06T15:31:00.000-07:002010-08-06T15:43:35.560-07:00Going on a While NowWelp, I'm still not very good at going to sleep early, but I do feel more rested. I don't have that twitchy feel anymore, that had me unable to focus for more than about two minutes. I'm enjoying my break from activites and people, even though I'm still doing a lot of family stuff. Family, I love you, but SERIOUSLY. Do you remember when I used to read all day and ignore everyone until you called my name three times when I was like eight? This is my grown-up version.<br /><br />I always hated people who counted down the days til Friday, but this week I am glad. It means rest, and I am looking forward to being full of rest.<br /><br />Housewarming soon. Who knows how long I'll be there, but it's a good excuse to make cute invitations and have people over to get a sugar high on homemade ice cream and popsicles. Mmmm, ice cream. Blackberries and Strawberries and Blueberries, how I love summertime in California.<br /><br />I like these prints; especially the captions:<br /><a href="http://www.buildingaworld.com/store/product.php?productid=16838&cat=273&page=4">http://www.buildingaworld.com/store/product.php?productid=16838&cat=273&page=4</a>bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-53381006599116204982010-06-20T14:30:00.000-07:002010-06-20T14:30:00.601-07:00On a lighter note...I have a new house. Renting. Hardwood floors. I'm working on making it home-y, but as we all know my home is not here, so... yeah I'm done with that sentence. I also got the chip in my front tooth filled and it looks all pretty and shiny and I almost got in an accident on my way home from the dentist because I was admiring it in my flip-down mirror.<br /><br />I finally slept for nine hours in a row. Hoo-ray.<br /><br />I'm making popsicles. But it's only in the low nineties outside. Bad timing.<br /><br />I had a waffle breakfast picnic with the cutest three and six year old girls ever, after having a sleepover complete with dancing and nailpainting and smoothie-making. And digging in the dirt and nailing together a table. Sleepovers should be well-rounded in my opinion.<br /><br />I made yummy frozen almond ice cream/salty butterscotch brownies. I think I need help naming my food creations.bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-41130504152955933982010-06-19T08:50:00.000-07:002010-06-19T08:50:00.395-07:00RearviewI wrote this poem last summer sometime, wondering in my head about (what else?) guys. Silly little ditty. Why I never posted it. But now, looking back, I have answers to all three. A couple I wish I had known then, but none I felt I really could or would have handled differently. Noted for your perusal.<br /><br /><div align="left"><em>I notice you when<br />you notice me but<br />is that all it will ever be?</em><br /></div><div align="right">It WILL be more, a very good more, but it has an end.</div><div align="left"><em>Too old or too young<br />Can’t there<br />be one in between?</em><br /></div><div align="right">THIS is only trouble, & enough stress to make an ulcer cry.</div><div align="left"><em>I would be, if He<br />would be. But he won’t ever be.<br />I’m so over this.</em></div><div align="left"><em></em> </div><div align="right">He WON"T ever be, and? It is good. Very good. Get over it is right.</div>bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-74579744959958898972010-06-18T13:48:00.000-07:002010-06-18T13:58:22.179-07:00SAYING NOI used to be really good at it. But it seems I can’t anymore. It's probably why I never have time to blog here. I can’t say no to hang-out times, or lunch I shouldn’t be going to. I can’t say no to invites that will make me spend money in one way or another. I can’t say no to myself.<br /><br />A big part of saying no, for me, is giving people other options. Letting them know I care, or still want to see them, but a different time/place/activity/group would work better for me. I can’t seem to ask other people to do things that are perfectly fine to ask. Like put a time limit on evenings I have people over to my house. I hate putting time limits on people. Or to join a group of us for dinner. I now have something that lasts at least two hours, most more, four nights a week. Then add in all the person-person time. That is crazy.<br /><br />I guess I feel selfish. A lot of it comes with my situation in life. I’m not the one with the kids, so of course I’ll drive farther, or hang out at odd times. I’m the big sister to a lot of girls, who have more hours to spend than I do, less money (technically) to spend than I do, etc. I <em>like</em> to do fun things. But seriously? I am a single woman, which means I have to work full time and do ministry and keep up my home on top of that. My life is challenging too.<br /><br />It stresses me out to not be home. Because my house is messy, and because my life is messy. And because I’m really, really trying to pay down my debt, and not being at home ever means I spend more money. More money eating out because I don’t have time to prep food, more money on gas, more money on convenience, more money on, yes, late fees. It stresses me out to stay out late and not get enough sleep. I work less productively, spend more money on caffeine, make poorer decisions, and am grumpier.<br /><br />I’m thinkin if I’m in a better place with all this and more rested I’ll be more interactive with people when I am with them as well. I am a maximizer. It’s hard to maximize when you feel like there’s nothing left. I don't want to complain about it or lash out verbally out of stress. If I am going to avoid becoming a hermit for a year (we’re talking worse than Dani) (I am dangerously close), I have to start saying no.<br /><br />I’m starting now. NO. My bed time is ten pm. If we are friends, I cannot hang out with you one-on-one for hours each week (family is my one exception). I cannot go out to eat at expensive places. Weekends are for hanging out, home cleaning and hiking. Weeknights are for dinner and talking til around nine, <em>maybe</em>. If I don’t text/call you back all day it’s because I’m at WORK and I’m not supposed to.bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-77946461118190930842010-04-16T17:25:00.000-07:002010-04-16T17:25:56.942-07:00Where I've Been...<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrSct_C89_kPNsVwypqzzdl9iYuzGai1uJirsnpuXQEnIkRYZ_LO_sm__Yr2JFjtBdDvJhFov1SjvGGLQmkCC-hAKEVrTUbN5ikjiA72D4W5-1Int2ivckjS534_gcrKnMo4pa8uEelE1l/s1600-h/P7030009.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396362318250720642" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrSct_C89_kPNsVwypqzzdl9iYuzGai1uJirsnpuXQEnIkRYZ_LO_sm__Yr2JFjtBdDvJhFov1SjvGGLQmkCC-hAKEVrTUbN5ikjiA72D4W5-1Int2ivckjS534_gcrKnMo4pa8uEelE1l/s200/P7030009.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="center">Here, in the Golden Trout Wilderness, backpacking with two awesome girls.</div><br /><div align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2ePag9AZav1SYD2CoAUz8QlPADo5lovwuBfii7PNdln-iJ05E83xWJ16vxoB35Z1v1pb_-BpsElywisz_kyW1UlVPN-_ntnuTdtyHqywDc-4JC1WvvuzB1UkCKSN01NGhK_gW6w1pGxC/s1600-h/P7110017.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396362325842662738" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2ePag9AZav1SYD2CoAUz8QlPADo5lovwuBfii7PNdln-iJ05E83xWJ16vxoB35Z1v1pb_-BpsElywisz_kyW1UlVPN-_ntnuTdtyHqywDc-4JC1WvvuzB1UkCKSN01NGhK_gW6w1pGxC/s200/P7110017.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="center">Here, in the Alabama Hills, preparing to summit Mt. Whitney - that middle, jagged peak, right above me & my pop's head. 22 miles, 6100ft elevation gain, on about an hour's sleep. And I want to do it again.<br /></div><br /><div align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMzU7ATK3QVNiv0lL7yoOo8V3P3DHD-JzOrGmT8r9PDqmljGSa94a_DFFXaFxucD9GU3AzWIMTU6s1DvPWtKmWQuLn6QvVyFyvtQxGLsIfCfN5AvJ1Q0DCTewaSGFv0sfgKzHQzL_Gowcg/s1600-h/P7220148.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396362338171918882" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMzU7ATK3QVNiv0lL7yoOo8V3P3DHD-JzOrGmT8r9PDqmljGSa94a_DFFXaFxucD9GU3AzWIMTU6s1DvPWtKmWQuLn6QvVyFyvtQxGLsIfCfN5AvJ1Q0DCTewaSGFv0sfgKzHQzL_Gowcg/s200/P7220148.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460851781473323906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7pvZpjvzNlwSfujzge71Yh1_ncj3kLWCZ6SUW_AE3ticaDoPf7rMRwe_fF-lH5y1lCZbcw8UFEbwEH8cW9fEH216-1HgRXuF-sza3f-pfFXEtJke_0jGj9W3idyOXyQ5T9cxuccfn0voo/s200/5216_126279992384_677902384_2733201_3339280_n.jpg" border="0" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="center">Here, at CAMP! With my BIG KIDS! And apparently an army of </div><div align="center">CLOWN-MAKEUP ARTISTS!</div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"> </div><br /><div align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdO3VpVa5XHiGPhoYciOKhdTzy_f9g1pB0TH2azgeWt4vIEJSgql8ko_gG9RKuWdm24cPmmI5G4rahLb_gVhNTZn5UKE3xg_ksuZtX8UYwy7heC1JO3zvBh18EZ2sHZrP9KIO4o7d43JMg/s1600-h/P7240215.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396362333340387346" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdO3VpVa5XHiGPhoYciOKhdTzy_f9g1pB0TH2azgeWt4vIEJSgql8ko_gG9RKuWdm24cPmmI5G4rahLb_gVhNTZn5UKE3xg_ksuZtX8UYwy7heC1JO3zvBh18EZ2sHZrP9KIO4o7d43JMg/s200/P7240215.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div align="center">Here, at gorgeous Hume Lake.<br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9T6CXzEe50nsWsX2tlcTd4lN17mCJumagGLA7-Nr-yKcnMAh067bx9J80SkRXx_Z7g6LX7-51B9gp80vCRP22PkiU9iQxM9DHah4sEX9wFkN_ZJykWLONSqqM63hrcgaYz6P2kJY7kSA/s200/P9040004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460887485994296386" /><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">Here, in front of the mirror, preparing to rock eighties/disco for bowling with </div><div align="center">my girls.<br /></div><div align="center"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVJZRrbAnADNfarsWkVxoRL8jWDJ8VfF9Ln80BWS_V5bq6wS5Mek8uNcH_g6vWlqMEOlrQcufmw4sfgEku_bk67MqQqBcr9Z2KIl6G6hBs-zs1H4C5TkQqW2Sh1EjRKiZslfpUzJxcywvG/s200/PB230109.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460887474861826770" /><br /><div><div style="text-align: center;">Here, on Oahu for Thanksgiving with Brad and Cortney - they just make me smile whenever I think of them.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457180918119191378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 134px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyqLcxkgjbvx_IDoihYnfsEOxUTzkQ67pqyRnYKMs4bAJ6oOsK3Z8Lz_85kXial9U0xOJ7DYpjwBYuhhnE907v2JUzWvyXr0wJaLBo-uYNJT_EK2D1Y5_aTYkMcSOn2130qAy-Iii5Dzz5/s200/IMG020.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Here, in Kaua'i, standing on the edge of the Napali coast about a mile in. Everywhere else on my "most beautiful place on earth" shifted down one. Jagged mountains into turquoise ocean. Mmm Mmm.<br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457180922191108162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK4wW7UacLaa1PRqBzSmg65hKao7jJuSZB7TRVjxL4jc9VFNzoQ2vrvvK69TbgCACbdIEoFDege9LRXM6eczilUkCWMb0yOp8uehPH_sWQ9UeXYX9O_1T153t4mqGen5QfdKu7OqKaXDb0/s200/IMG013.JPG" border="0" /><p align="center"> Here, hiking in the hills with my new favorite kids, Mark and Megan, and Pam!, whose name is always noted with an exclamation point in my head because she is that full of energy.</p><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460851803406576290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg16Ovvhyz5AM0V6feTl9RHrErC4v9fI2XpUicwAS91VZXtRZxqbZzIHJqCRTidRY8VuBkCofS_n0hdj_PmN6UcjaigSHtX1hHmZ5K6h0cJFqsiU-g-dWyfqiJgVs21yn7kNgl5LmDZAAkW/s200/Kenya+2010+127.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><div> </div><div align="center">And most recently, here. In Kenya. I was there with my bigkids for ten days. More on that, and the rest of this, later. </div><br /><div align="center">The Lord has been good to me.</div></div>bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-32425346433132166602009-07-03T16:01:00.000-07:002009-07-03T16:01:06.055-07:00Careful there.Parting words from the boss:<br /><br />"Don't lose any fingers. Don't blow them off on any fireworks or anything, yeah."<br /><br />HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY.bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-90648904503604426702009-07-02T16:08:00.000-07:002009-07-02T16:20:42.319-07:00WOE to youWhat movie is that from again? We used to say it all the time. Somebody help.<br /><br />For some reason the fact that half the girls that were going backpacking with me cancelled at the last minute makes me sad. Sad like <em>I'm in jr high and my mom won't let me go to the party and my life is over</em> sad. Perhaps it could be that so many other changes are happening and this is just the most imminent? It's easiest to focus on. We leave tomorrow.<br /><br />Other changes being that I just figured out I'm going to camp as a counselor for a week in just a couple weeks, and that my roommate decided today that she is moving out of town, like, within a month. And people are dropping like flies at my company - <em>voluntarily</em>. And, you know, the sky is falling. But I made an awesome lemon tomato basil gnocchi sauce yesterday.<br /><br />I need to sleep.bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-59673516373714595912009-06-26T07:00:00.000-07:002009-07-02T16:01:20.441-07:00Friday Fun Time<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351067406858309346" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixwpghPESesqikSHkp0SGwckNDvYiEWZQZXo96t3Kx-H8aO99CgVuuUWXYlhIMVfycpGsyHOSFBgNAe9-G0NkFEOEqODoryD1uh9bfMOpv2vvjVCmZYIxrYiR-9xtH2XeMVf80vDUW5Evf/s200/P6120091.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351058964341735650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: justify" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4npQGRGYP-e9SVbo014XK7vuipAk71wtD1_GCjg7EBWEOcswHqCq2_oje_QVJzr1hpgkVihU-rclsNqx9EBIkAI_-d7a1QzBHzl2rkHOTEY_572oT654i_5Sy7__O4CgSp2dx_OhCGNL/s200/P6120062.JPG" border="0" /> <div>Often I post of my weekend travels, which aid in the keeping of my sanity. However, most of you that have never really lived here in Bakersfield probably wonder <em>but what does she do for fun in Bakersfield? Friday night, do they play in the oilfields? Pick oranges by moonlight?</em> <em>Chicken fight with tractors?</em> So I hereby introduce Friday Fun Time (previously known as the hour my mom's 4th graders look forward to all week) in order to put all your minds at ease. And to reassure my own mind that yes, I do have fun, at least once a week. Although when you hear about the fun, you might still wonder... <em>wouldn't tipping cows be more fun?</em> NO WAY. The first Friday Fun Time is:</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><br /></span></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351066380793691586" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3vqxN62m1GpWwI1G2CY2pphU9STIRSDVMdSganpf86R9d2zoV-LNyU90Pk5hkHs7MCmdBncvb6X8vAmQvYyaCq9i7t9w0_KxgGOq-vjoTUVS5B7vtHXRzP0yL1dvib5n3NoW0BA8OtVN/s200/P6120045.JPG" border="0" /> <div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">Sinaloa's & Central Park</span></div><div>Sinaloa's is a mexican restaurant that's been around for over 50 years here in Bakersfield, which is rare. We walk in early - the family is getting old - and enjoy a meal of quite delicious mexican food, surprisingly fresh. The old, old house in which we are seated is simple and pretty cool - the kind of place I'd like to shop or browse through books in - but it has that musty smell that just does not go well with food. I'm not sure I like the combination. Still the building is pretty cool, and it made for a new adventure in town. And they served bread and salsa, which is totally Basque but it's Bakersfield so it made sense. The salsa was GOOD.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Stuffed, we ventured out for a walk in the small but lovely Central Park, recently redone and the new place to be. It even has wireless! They pretty much turned a section of the canal (that runs underground through most of town) into a stream through the downtown park next to the art museum. There's even a covered bridge. But the absolute best part of the night was when I heard the "dingdingding dingdingding" and spotted this:<br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351057290415193042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjAP6jAF-EU62swrQttdqyQ33bnaldiaAkxKPXPxrSEDzSj4EodXLIYhIKb-mcJVc3IM4ybFF4WsWMzklziZyiEY1zIGsCxgx661d6XaGldR2CdC5vA1p0eQR2qZdSNpfpfWv-LRh4C_-H/s200/P6120089.JPG" border="0" /> <div>I had just said to the folks and Jill, "oh man, I was really hoping we'd see the LaRosa Man* here. I had it all planned out in my mind, and now he's not here." He must have heard me. We bought coconut creme bars - the yummiest popsicle I have ever had. Almost like gelato on a stick.</div><br /><div>We even checked the wrapper to be sure LaRosa Bars are made here, and they are - right on Niles Street. It was an authentically Bakersfield evening.</div><br /><div>And then we went home and watched <em>Definace</em>.</div><br /><div>*For some reason it is always <em>the</em> LaRosa Man, instead of <em>a</em> LaRosa Man. It just is.</div>bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-531736933841152542009-06-17T10:15:00.000-07:002009-06-17T10:34:03.119-07:00Under the InfluenceI just watched <em>Revolutionary Road</em>. If ever there was a time to Do As Beth Does, THIS IS NOT IT. Don't watch it. It depressed me for a couple days. Basically this is the plot - we are a young, vibrant couple and our life will not look like others' do but then we get stuck in suburbia and it gets worse and then we get entrenched even more in suburbia even though we hate it and then we die. Seriously suffocating. At the end this is what went through my mind: <em>I just bought a freakin' pastry blender. What the crap is happening to me? What was I thinking?</em> But for reals, folks. My life will not look like that.<br /><br />on the other hand...<br /><br />Dear Jesus,<br /><br />It would be really crazy awesome if you could make me (well, hopefully he's already made) a man like Daniel Craig's character in <em>Defiance</em>. Mmmm-hmmm. That loves you a whole lot. Because Daniel Craig as Tuvia Bielski + Christ follower = the man I want to marry. Like you didn't know that already. But I'm just sayin'.bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-79572035985030233452009-06-11T12:30:00.000-07:002009-06-11T12:30:03.033-07:00On MajestyMy subtitle speaks for itself, but the thought behind it is it's own story. I've become content here, in this place God has me - not a stagnant content, and not incredibly happy, but joyful. It's taken some time, but it's been worth it.<br /><br />Even in the contentedness, it felt for a while like something was missing- I just couldn't put my finger on it. Then someone said the word "majesty" and I pretty much jumped out of my chair. I've been missing the majesty. So I've tried to keep conscious of the majesty that is God whom we worship, and the way his majesty is displayed through his creation. It helps, try it. Let's not miss the majesty.<br /><br />We've been reading Tozer's <em>Knowledge of the Holy</em>, my friends and I, and it is very good at keeping the majesty of God front and center. Consider the reason, to begin with, that we seek the majesty:<br /><br /><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;">The yearning to know What cannot be known, </span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;">to comprehend the Incomprehensible, </span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;">to touch and taste the Unapproachable, </span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;">arises from the image of God in the nature of man. </span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;"></span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:times new roman;">Deep calleth unto deep, and though polluted and landlocked by the mighty disaster theologians call the Fall, the soul senses its origin and longs to return to its Source.</span> </em>bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-2166867275697891042009-06-09T16:00:00.000-07:002009-06-11T10:29:23.857-07:00At the GYMyesterday they were playing pump it up music, as usual, and I being the anti-trend person / idiot who forgot my ipod was able to enjoy some greats. Namely R.E.S.P.E.C.T., to which I literally could not <em>not</em> move to a little bit. That song just calls for some booty-movin'. And I looked around, and NO ONE else seemed the least bit affected. Seriously, fellow gym goers, how are we ever going to act out my musical fantasies if no one is even listening? Such as the one in which everyone jumps off their machine at the exact same time (on the downbeat of the R on the second chorus, to be exact) and does a little dance? That song just longs for group participation.<br /><br />Ever since seeing the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mUZrrbgCdYc">T-Mobile commercial </a>I have wanted to see such things. And participate. Lead them, even. If I had had a partner in crime yesterday we just might have started a literal movement.bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-21203052844544322442009-06-07T13:37:00.001-07:002009-06-07T13:40:51.243-07:00This is all I have to say todayAnd <span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(56, 56, 56); font-weight: bold; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:Arial;">Vikki Cook and Charitie Lees Bancroft </span>say it so much better than I ever could<div><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(56, 56, 56); -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:Verdana;"><span style="font-family:Enchanted;"><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Before the throne of God above,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I have a strong, a perfect plea,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">A great High Priest whose name is Love,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Who ever lives and pleads for me.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">My name is graven on His hands,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">My name is written on His heart.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I know that while in heaven He stands,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">No tongue can bid me thence depart,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">No tongue can bid me thence depart.</span></span></p></span><span style="font-family:Cornerstone;"><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span></p></span><span style="font-family:Enchanted;"><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">When Satan tempts me to despair,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">And tells me of the guilt within,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Upward I look and see Him there,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Who made an end of all my sin.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Because the sinless Savior died,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">My sinful soul is counted free.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">For God the Just is satisfied</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">To look on Him and pardon me,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">To look on Him and pardon me.</span></span></p></span><span style="font-family:Cornerstone;"><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span></p><span style="font-family:Enchanted;"><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Behold Him there the Risen Lamb,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">My perfect spotless righteousness,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">The great unchangeable I Am,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">The King of glory and of grace,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">One with Himself I cannot die.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">My soul is purchased by His blood,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">My life is hid with Christ on high,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">With Christ my Savior and my God,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">With Christ my Savior and my God.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">One with Himself I cannot die.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">My soul is purchased by His blood,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">My life is hid with Christ on high</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">With Christ my Savior and my God,</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; "><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">With Christ my Savior and my God.</span></span></p></span></span></span></div></div>bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-61756686179594157532009-06-04T14:34:00.000-07:002009-06-04T15:10:39.946-07:00THERE IS NO... ARIZONA...Oh wait actually there is. That's a country song if you missed the reference. On that note if anyone in my life feels like they're missing the reference it is pretty much always a country song that you don't know. Just assume, go ahead. Oh and this will be long so, um, thanks for reading?<br /><br />Ok, so I went to Arizona for a week with my BigKids the week before Easter. It was fantastic, for me, and it was pretty darn good as a youth group missions trip as well. It was awesome to be able to focus on ONE thing, instead of three or four as I usually do, for a week. I mean, we did a lot, and I was going going going and making sure the girls were doing okay, but they were all I had to focus on and it was a nice break. And it combined the two things I love most - missions and the Church.<br /><br /><p align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6GYQjzqVVqvdVtcTAfT0MDNOpq6jXr0476luTenrEBLcClib3yxpS8Pe7rnDPiTnAUhfAetVsz2al6-0Iiasa50eEq_qrwevszOI3S005nh1KkUN2YQL2I2TpFC50iRteVzq2vL4h5pE3/s1600-h/P4080124.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343337700346909970" style="WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6GYQjzqVVqvdVtcTAfT0MDNOpq6jXr0476luTenrEBLcClib3yxpS8Pe7rnDPiTnAUhfAetVsz2al6-0Iiasa50eEq_qrwevszOI3S005nh1KkUN2YQL2I2TpFC50iRteVzq2vL4h5pE3/s200/P4080124.JPG" border="0" /></a></p>I'm not sure how to describe this trip. We were a large group of people for the amount of Apaches around the ministry we worked with, and even larger once word got out that all the white people were there and all the Apaches disappeared. Sad day. We did get to build relationships with quite a few of them, though. What poverty they live in on the reservation - 65% unemployment, 70% living below the poverty level, alcohol, drugs, crap family lives, no transportation off the reservation, you name it- it's bad. I truly enjoyed getting to know the few Apaches that I did in that short amount of time. We were able to work with a family of new believers in restoring their walls (filling holes, painting over nasty graffitti <em>inside</em>) and in prayer marathons, all so they could get their kids back and be growing in the faith. This couple literally showed up at the door of the missionaries' place and said, "we want to come to Jesus. we've tried and tried to change on our own (from cocaine, alcohol, etc.) and we can't do it. We need Jesus. Will you pray with us?" Wow. It was pretty rad to participate in the work the Lord is working in their lives. And updates continue to let us know how well they're doing. Praise Jesus for changing lives!<br /><br />Because there were a lot of us, and 25 high school students on about three acres + free time = trouble, we did a lot of construction/cleanup/painting/literal trailblazing. We worked HARD. Exhaused at the end of the day. I was super-proud of the students. For me, it felt so good to work that hard, and see results. I love love loved being able to serve the missionaries there so that we could enable them to be doing the work they were there to do.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsPghXWWl7pWO4y8WXvciXcfd8zjeSEaUYC-oGZGqMOL668YyY6YiZzgwrDFNM2RlbSvlxoWZKKedHV-0uGiPh2xzebboYboaihNqk8mS-9lmLZ0iYyE5_972HQhuP0KR2mK1DC3j0_eyl/s1600-h/P4070081.JPG"></a><p align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPe7R1bPsk7M6eyYH3S5wHM-9OnhQw5kSTJ1kdox4A7qVr4Ualmf8k6YQcNEe8uAvzhwLE4jUKPf5_TNcF054deykB2B10YXiBDYlrw0va5t-ZoZv2A2tBrTgVcFR6TCcaSQBt7rnUBZTf/s1600-h/P4070070.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343336357014609938" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPe7R1bPsk7M6eyYH3S5wHM-9OnhQw5kSTJ1kdox4A7qVr4Ualmf8k6YQcNEe8uAvzhwLE4jUKPf5_TNcF054deykB2B10YXiBDYlrw0va5t-ZoZv2A2tBrTgVcFR6TCcaSQBt7rnUBZTf/s200/P4070070.JPG" border="0" /></a></p><p align="left">I braided many, many heads of hair into french braids. I had <em>good</em> one-to-one conversations with several of the young women who were struggling with something, and good times of prayer with them as well. I was excited to see how the students were able to get over themselves enough to let God work through them in all the different things we were doing. Church was an experience. An elderly Apache woman who was short with a flat, wrinkled face and long, thick black-grey hair led worship, song-to-song without a break for about half an hour. It sounded like a cross between the early "worship music" and something you'd hear an Apache singing at a powow. It was awesome. Sometime in the middle of some service, I almost laughed out loud. I love following Christ. How else would I end up in the middle the desert at a pennecostal service led by Apaches?<br /></p><p align="left">We climbed the hill behind the church and watched the sunrise over the mesa-moutains every morning, because the first morning, it was <em>red</em>. The whole sky. And then orange, and then pink. And we went back to bed (had gotten up to use the bathroom which was outside). Idiots. So every day after that we got up to wait for it to be the same color again. And it never was, but it was beautiful every morning. And it was refreshing to get up that early, praise God, think of the possiblity of the day to come, and sit on a log in the middle of an Apache reservation in Arizona and watch the sun rise.<br /></p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGDghkrHl9xWYEyr1G_6iDYy5UuNMH7UiJtUAmLyeKRQSHDQDCcNfY6lXaAvggBTFELynTsAUegUrLJGWSebIOeiO5NkOHiKfiioSYNFjmJmbQh1ULl1GNK5nvyQVCqIB_UuaSPuZEsp2A/s1600-h/P4080144.JPG"></a><p align="center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEn0y1sCqjVqGoZ23YaYSL3fzTXG1wknGVoj9jqgMVEt8zrTB-jUUZkw_f3Sae7Tpa6qkf5T2UbO0OYZkqJKvJ9dKBlUAeE4sn1tJmkpi-vBpP-QCKu33WdvKnwhyUtqprP_p3jQUOEiAe/s1600-h/P4090152.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343337696353549010" style="WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEn0y1sCqjVqGoZ23YaYSL3fzTXG1wknGVoj9jqgMVEt8zrTB-jUUZkw_f3Sae7Tpa6qkf5T2UbO0OYZkqJKvJ9dKBlUAeE4sn1tJmkpi-vBpP-QCKu33WdvKnwhyUtqprP_p3jQUOEiAe/s200/P4090152.JPG" border="0" /></a></p><p align="right"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEn0y1sCqjVqGoZ23YaYSL3fzTXG1wknGVoj9jqgMVEt8zrTB-jUUZkw_f3Sae7Tpa6qkf5T2UbO0OYZkqJKvJ9dKBlUAeE4sn1tJmkpi-vBpP-QCKu33WdvKnwhyUtqprP_p3jQUOEiAe/s1600-h/P4090152.JPG"></a></p><p align="right"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEn0y1sCqjVqGoZ23YaYSL3fzTXG1wknGVoj9jqgMVEt8zrTB-jUUZkw_f3Sae7Tpa6qkf5T2UbO0OYZkqJKvJ9dKBlUAeE4sn1tJmkpi-vBpP-QCKu33WdvKnwhyUtqprP_p3jQUOEiAe/s1600-h/P4090152.JPG"></a></p>bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-13752467523805095062009-05-29T15:01:00.000-07:002009-06-03T22:00:56.376-07:00Leavin' on a Jet Plane<div>One of the greatest things I love about traveling, or being on vacation, is being able to relax and do the things I never get time to do anymore, like read and watch movies and shows.</div><div> </div><br /><div>I read, this weekend, <em>The Life of Pi</em>, and <em>The Beautiful and Damned</em>, and <em>The Second Assistant</em>. The first was entertaining with a reflective end, the third was frivolous and fun, and the second was DEPRESSING for pretty much the last half. I know, I know, what else do I expect from reading a long Fitzgerald novel? It was a really good book, but the last half just made me cringe because they kept going, and going, and didn't know how to stop. It was awful.</div><div> </div><br /><div>On the plane back (from first-class, cheers to love causing a man with a first-class ticket wanting to sit in steerage with his girlfriend and thus switch me seats) I watched <em>Last Chance Harvey</em>. It made me smile. A lot. It made me want to cry, but I didn't of course. And you know how you have those conversations, usually while waiting in line for something or on a long car ride, about who would play you in the movie of your life? Mine would definitely be Emma Thompson. Hands down. Not just from this movie - I've been a fan since she did <em>Sense and Sensibility</em>. In movies she plays the understated character, supporting in the beginning but often in the end the strongest character. In real life she is quite normal and funny, if you believe imbd at all, and is the only <em>person</em> ever to have won an oscar both for acting and for writing. Emma Thompson is my new fav, yo.</div><div> </div><br /><div>Oh and Ash and I watched <em>the newlyweds</em> on tv which is incredibly funny, the asian couple is my favorite. Definitely my main show this summer.</div>bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-67544284171156084472009-05-29T14:54:00.000-07:002009-05-29T15:00:33.585-07:00That movie everyone is talking about...With the attractive young cast flying around in space...<br /><br />I liked it a lot...<br /><br />Am I the only one who automatically thought, when the drill touched down into the SF Bay, "well yeah they would drill there. It's the most logical starting point as the San Andreas Faultline goes straight through the bay and drilling between two tectonic plates would make breaking through the earth's crust a lot easier..."<br /><br />Yup I do belong in the theatre watching this movie. It's quite fitting for my level of nerd.bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-87388567058845336652009-05-07T13:02:00.000-07:002009-05-07T13:15:35.158-07:00Spice-yFor some time now I've cut way back on the caffenated soda (FYI, Caffeine-free Diet Coke is fine, but Caffeine-free Diet Pepsi is n-n-n-nastay). We're talking I have only between two and four <em>cans</em> per day. That's less than 44oz usually, which I used to drink before nine am. Now I don't start until ten. It's a nice mid-morning treat.<br /><br />That isn't the point. Point is, lately I've been seriously craving things like a banana, an apple, spinach, an orange, broccoli, you name the vegetable and I've probably had a craving for it in the last few weeks. I've thought this really strange since I never crave these things. But then I got to thinking, hmmm, no caffeine? Since I have not much caffeine in my system, am I able to pay better attention to what nutrients my body needs? I do think so. My body, without the inhibition of caffeine, now tells me what it wants. So every once in a while, I look down and my stomach and say, "Tell me what you want, what you really really want," and then my stomach says, "I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want," "I want a-, I want a-" BANANA.<br /><br />Sidenote - they should really figure out how to post sidenotes up the sides of posts<br />Actual Sidenote - they used to call me sporty spice. That is gross.bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-35845608426205441572009-05-01T13:27:00.000-07:002009-05-01T13:48:02.818-07:00coming out of the closetSo on Wednesday night Jodi and I had to have a conversation before youth group began, so we were like WHERE can we even meet where there's no students? Cause they are EVERYWHERE. Which is good. So we went into one of the supply closets off the game room, where there was barely enough room for the two of us to sit on the ground. We were talking for a while, can kinda hear the kids outside, and a few of the j/h boys were messing around and one of them hung on the door handle and opened it and jumped. You should have seen his face - he seriously almost peed his pants. So that was funny, we laughed and then talk talk talk.<br /><br />And THEN I guess there was this mom wandering around who had brought a new j/h student and a new high school student and wanted to talk to a leader real quick to make sure they'd be alright. And Jenn (a j/h leader who was in the game room when we shocked the kid earlier) couldn't find any other leaders and so she was like, well..., um, you see..., ah, I think theeeyyrree in here. And she opens the door and we tumble out of the closet and are like, hey, new mom, sure we'll take care of your kid, no funny business here.<br /><br />And we shook her hand and went back into the closet and shut the door cause we weren't finished. sO maybe you had to be there but it was pretty funny. And it was totally the perfect place for private convos - I am <em>so</em> using it from now on. The end.bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-62227053384665911852009-04-29T15:38:00.000-07:002009-04-29T15:51:05.257-07:00ShouldaHaven't got long, but a quick story - yesterday I was walking downtown through the 22nd/Myrtle area and enjoying the peace and pretty houses when a loose dog (as in got out of it's yard, not as in a loose woman) started walking with me. Second time a dog has done that in that area. I noticed it looked recently groomed and had tags and so tried to get it to come over to me. No such luck, but it kept following me for several blocks. I tried again every once in a while, and for a second had a vision of capturing the dog, knocking on it's owner's door and being greeted by a handsome single young professional man living downtown, preferably already cooking dinner. OH WAIT, this is Bakersfield -snap back to reality and continue on my walk. A couple minutes later, as the dog had gotten behind exploring a yard about a block behind me, I was turning my head to call it again when a well-dressed young man pulls up in a white suv, says "there you are, Haley," stares curiously in my direction for a second, scoops up the dog and pulls away. I kid you not. I seriously SHOULD HAVE TRIED HARDER to catch that dog. Story of my life.bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-21519286105920317612009-04-27T13:34:00.000-07:002009-04-27T14:02:30.468-07:00TornadoSo on Thursday night we had a birthday bash for Holly. If you ever watch Gilmore Girls, and where they plan to do "21" things all night for Rory's 21st birthday, we did something similar (minus the 21 shots). Holly turned 23 on April 23rd! Which is exciting but not the point of this endeavor. One of the items on my list that we didn't get around to was to watch the first video that comes up when you type in "23" on YouTube. So I did it the next morning and it came up with a TORNADO video. A giant one that split into three sections at one point. That's right, I watched all five minutes and 26 seconds of it. And decided to revise my policy of never living in the Midwest. I <em>could</em> in fact live in the Midwest if I was a tornado chaser and got paid for it. Maybe I'd only live there during tornado season. Then I started watching more and more tornado videos. Never before have I watched more than a couple things on YouTube at a time. I think I'm addicted.<br /><br /><em>Ahem.</em> Back to Holly's Birthday. Here is the list I wrote -the ones in bold are the ones we completed. The rest will have to wait til someone else turns 23.<br /><br />23 “23” things to do for Holly’s 23rd Birthday on April 23rd.<br /><strong>1. 23 wishes with 23 pennies into a Derrel’s Mini Storage Fountain</strong><br /><strong>2. Buy 23 things at Goodwill/Dollar tree<br /></strong>3. Get 23 ice cream samples<br />4. Get 23 guys’ numbers<br /><strong>5. Listen to 23 songs<br />6. All night ask people for 23 things (ice cubes, lbs of food, napkins, etc)</strong><br />7. Give 23 hearts to 23 different people<br /><strong>8. Eat 23 bites of food<br />9. Make up a sentence with 23 words<br />10. Play the new card game 23<br /></strong>11. Call 23 people<br />12. Watch the first video on YouTube that comes up when you type “23”<br /><strong>13. Scream “23” at the 23rd hour (that would be 11PM)<br />14. Cruise down 23rd street<br /></strong>15. Blow out 23 candles<br />16. Pick 23 flowers<br />17. Put hair into 23 braids<br />18. Wear 23 things. Out.<br /><strong>19. Illegally tag “23” somewhere – even if it’s in sidewalk chalk.<br /></strong>20. Make a mosaic out of 23 magazine pictures<br />21. Convince someone you have 23 fingers and toes<br /><strong>22. Go to the “self-help” section and choose the 23rd book from the left and read the 23rd page<br />23. Enjoy being 23.</strong><br /><br />I think doing them all would have been more of an all-day Saturday type of outing, as opposed to an all-night Thursday outing. But we went the extra mile in the things we did do, such as tagging "23" everywhere we went in sidewalk chalk. And getting a balloon and tying it to Holly as part of the dollar tree spree. And reading several page 23's. And we ended up playing cards with five older drunk latino men, which in my mind was way more entertaining than getting 23 guys' numbers would have been. HAPPY BIRTHDAY HOLLY.bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-12893361117241673612009-04-23T13:59:00.000-07:002009-04-23T15:49:45.345-07:00Back.WOW it's been a long time since I've posted. The break was much needed, and truthfully these last two months have been so busy I don't know what I would have done if I had thrown in tv/movies/internet. But on to other things. There is so much to write. I will try to break it up into coherent pieces but I kind of feel like the kid just back from summer camp telling his mom, <em>this</em> happened and this happened, and then we were- oh and THIS happened, and we went here, and we learned about bugs, and... actually maybe it would be easier to write about everything in this way.<br /><br />For now, we will focus on what <em>WILL BE</em>- Christ will return and we who follow him will be glorified. And we get a new earth! Yay for no more valley pollution! (among other things)<br /><br />Until That Day, here are my frivolous summer plans that WILL (hopefully) be:<br /><br />a/ style: going for a late-70's by the lake / on the beach look. It's a bit by default as I just don't want to pay to cut or color my hair, so it's long and blonde and brassy again, but also by my choice of throw-back Aloha Tiare for this summer's perfume. This gives me a chance to follow a <em>bit</em> of the current fashion but not go full-fledged eighties.<br /><br />b/ music: Kenny Chesney's <em>When the Sun Goes Down</em> album will always be the ultimate in summer tunes to me. Along with Uncle Kracker's <em>Drift Away.</em> Various other singles. Okay, maybe this part of the post is premature and I should make a playlist first<em>.</em><br /><em></em><br />c/ plans: Several long, lazy, full Neighborhood Dinners. A picnic by the lake/river with magazines, books, good music and lemonade. Studying about God's face. A trip to Malibu Getty & Red Rock Canyon for hiking. Venice Beach- just can’t get enough of that place. Lots of stretching- strange, but seriously. Someone take me Floating…. I’ve never been…. An herb garden outside my door maintained. Stargazing when there’s no moonlight, in a really dark place. A free-form worship night. Baking bread from scratch. Climb Mount Whitney. Lots of good times with my BigKids. San Francisco – in all its beautifulness. Poker night done right.<br />If I manage to do all of these things, it will be one very full summer.<br /><br />Feel free to invite yourself along. But only if I already know you.bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-52504412421114683262009-03-18T13:18:00.000-07:002009-03-18T13:20:27.864-07:00fyii gave up frivolous internet for lent. sorry friends. updates to be found after easter! but I am going to San Carlos, AZ the ten days before that for the BigKids' mission trip/service project. Excitement abounds.bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-81692600547971014202009-02-24T14:17:00.000-08:002009-02-24T14:28:04.318-08:00HauntYou know when you have one of those dreams, that just feels <em>so real</em>, that hangs around you the rest of the day? It's like an aura, and my eyes take on that deep, haunted, far-away look, and my chest sinks in when I breathe, and I can close my eyes and <em>feel</em> that person I dreamt about. I am enveloped. Wanted.<br /><br />This isn't helping.<br /><div align="center"><br /><em>Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,</em></div><div align="center"><em>Enwrought with golden and silver light,</em></div><div align="center"><em>The blue and the dim and the dark cloths</em></div><div align="center"><em>Of night and light and the half-light,</em></div><div align="center"><em>I would spread the cloths under your feet:</em></div><div align="center"><em>But I, being poor, have only my dreams;</em></div><div align="center"><em>I have spread my dreams under your feet,</em></div><div align="center"><em>Tread softly because you tread on my dreams</em></div><em><div align="right"><br /></em>W.B. Yeats</div>bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-86766580514947629472009-02-24T09:14:00.000-08:002009-02-24T09:16:27.138-08:00PINK & PURPLEIf I'm going to be girly I might as well go all the way, right?bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-68122443403054652772009-02-18T13:56:00.000-08:002009-02-18T14:36:46.565-08:00note - note - note - note - noteCALVIN KLEIN loves my body. So I loved him back from my bank account. In honor of my upcoming bonus.* Two gorgeous dresses - one for summer work and the other perfect for weddings.<br /><br />Sean Connery wears a ONESIE in <em>Goldfinger</em> as a swimsuit coverup. I watched it last night. And rewound it twice just to be sure. I don't believe a man could be more attractive in a onesie than Sean Connery: the younger years.<br /><br />This summer I am going to CLIMB MT WHITNEY. I've already mailed my application for the lottery (they only let a set number of people in per day so you have to apply for dates).<br /><br />Last night in the baby store (cousin's shower) a kid that couldn't have been more than eighteen months gave me the, "HEY LADY, WHAT'S UP." I <em>knew</em> I was looking for love in all the wrong places.<br /><br />A coworker shared the comments from Rick written on her daily accounting reports last night. Apparantly we've gone from "ok" or "nice job" to HEY YA / RA RAH.<br /><br />*What? They could be gone by the time I actually get the money.bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4345252242481969546.post-71469158701667203892009-02-16T14:56:00.001-08:002009-02-16T15:37:14.779-08:00REST<div align="center">Montgomery Gentry...<em>Yeah, what I really need -Is an open road -And a whole lot of speed</em><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303534552580991442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8C3wkMMSaWIG-WJR0w-9GIfrE3pTPLZInOFvpYu0PCsmAT6BzIEVh8NJEbEar5ztyTZ-DBc7CgQpBQpM18OOnTCWE47zhtB86c9UfqmzR8zAFhoN8ExuYeZw0yKs-HbQnwd1yRX22iUAR/s200/Photos+Spring+09+147.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303535827207800738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMcb0BNGsj7WMtmFB9vPMQsnxTn5xVofAC3dwrkANcQYW4jh52KvflFRY-beJutVMxhgeJFu8YyaprwFt6SeiEZ4mxk5rDcfXE1Tk4iRtBoMoVSd3vtp1cTI3BENP2lRBTdM87rO_zb52A/s200/Photos+Spring+09+152.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303537348908101026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ-2regrIK-JlOHFPFEdzCDriueJGFrux9ATeNoq3cHqhHvNIrxuoA-m3z3AJXG-rYqwC23mh_rRPpwiAaBBXz06LUIPEEpHLCLTkOPXfaELUUoQygVs6a225FfeifaEcMZjEWyLLQDyX8/s200/Photos+Spring+09+162.jpg" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303542756760696946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgocNTRA4NF1n6pmPj_xjl5gJKdpJ34EZ3TRMBI5GoSGhH5F1dX0JrwcU-WTleLcRdFCeswI7hS6B8r2KzAma-N8MoXiDkQFr8-p8nPZqJHvsRjkLpoymzKVCrZGcnOz-gQN2iNWKmUbu5r/s200/Photos+Spring+09+179.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">It was good for my soul.</div>bETH vAUGHNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06798154478063723887noreply@blogger.com1