PDA, the online kind

It used to be that we’d gag if we saw a couple (especially a teenage couple) making out by a building or on the bus or at the movies. That was how it was when I was a teen – PDA came in a physical form.

But now, we have the electronic versions – the Facebooks, the MySpaces, the Twitters. They have become the new avenue for PDA – and they’re EVERYWHERE.

An “I love you” here and there on your significant other’s Facebook wall is acceptable and appropriate. Excited about a date? That’s cool. In fact, if you want to joke around every now and then and put something cutsey, that’s fine. But mushy and totally unnecessary? Gag me with a spoon and send it through the inbox.

Examples of real life Facebook PDA:

Husband, writing on his wife’s Facebook wall
“I just spent my day with the love of my life, my wife, my one and only, my true love.”
Then why do you feel the need to tell her?

Boyfriend to girlfriend:
“I love that when we’re mushy on Facebook, everyone can see.”
I hate you.

Also unacceptable: Every. Stinking. Status. Update. About. Your. Boyfriend/Girlfriend. We UNDERSTAND that you’re infatuated/in love/twitterpated/whatever. Believe it or not, we’re smarter than we look, and we don’t need an hourly update on how “in looooovvveee” you are.

Here’s something else that’s creepy: exes stalking. I have seen this happen with a friend of mine, who is dating a new boy, and her ex writes at least every other day on her wall. Stuff like, “I hope you have a wonderful day” and “You deserve the best, Sarah*.” She’s nicer than me. I would have blocked his derriere.

For now, I’m going to update my own Facebook status. What will it read?

Hmm…frankly, I’m not sure either.

The better part of my weekend

I meant to post this, oh...Tuesday...but I've been swamped with work and school (and still am, but I'm procrastinating studying), so I thought I'd tell about the good part of this past weekend.

My Aunt J and I went to a nearby Women of Faith Conference. It. Was. FABULOUS. We had such a great time listening to the speakers, spending time with each other, AND meeting Nicole C. Mullen.


She's my adopted cousin now, just fyi.





I love Nicole C. Mullen because she spends so much time mentoring kids. You hear so much about how bad kids now, and it was so nice to see this group of kids praising Jesus and to see someone who gives all the glory to God mentoring them.



Me and my sweet aunt, who took me to the conference


My mom's favorite, Sandi Patty




Words are failing me. Probably has something to do with all the words I'm writing for press releases and the mountains of words I'm studying, but I'm glad I have pictures from this weekend as well.

Mr. Bun Buns

(NOTE: If you are not having a good day, DO NOT READ this. It's not going to make it any better.)

Don’t laugh, but I’m very sad that this little bunny is no more.

My aunt and I were driving back from a Women of Faith conference when we saw this poor, sweet animal standing in the middle of a two-lane highway. He looked confused, lost, wounded. My aunt was terribly upset, and I said, “Turn around! Turn around! We’ll go get him!”

She looked in her rearview mirror just to see him fall down. She turned around.

I would like to say that I dodged traffic to save him, but most of the drivers waited patiently for me to scoop Mr. George Bunikinz Bun Buns III (just wait) in my arms and head back to the Volvo. I think they were glad that I was saving him and not them. I had hoped someone would have picked him up before we did, too.

At first, he was terrified in my arms, but after a few minutes, he began jumping madly. I was so excited because he looked well and didn’t seem to have any broken bones. I held him closely and noticed blood on my pants and the car seat.

I called my husband within seconds from my house. “Come outside, but make sure Superdog is inside,” I said. As we pulled up, I held the rabbit up for him to see. His face showed elation at first at seeing such a sweet animal – and then shock as he wondered if this would become a new pet.

I gently placed Mr. Bun Buns (my name for him – Susie from Calvin and Hobbes had a stuffed toy rabbit she called Mr. Bun Buns) on the ground, and he slowly hopped around to the grass. And stopped. Several of our neighbors came by (which is when he acquired the name “George”), and those who live next door offered their large pen and a tarp to keep him safe.

Mr. Bun Buns had a deep, deep cut on his front paw. To the bone. He also had been hit in the mouth and had a cut on his ear. I’m not sure what internal injuries he had.

I felt confident Sunday morning that Mr. Bun Buns (who had by this time received the name Bunikinz) was going to live. I went to church happy, thinking that we would be able to release him to the wild shortly.

I’m not sure what happened between Sunday morning and Sunday afternoon, but in that time, Mr. Bun Buns went from good to bad.

We opened the gate door so he could see that he was not a prisoner and placed him on a damp towel to stay cool. He scooted off the towel and lay on his side. He would not eat. We fed him pet milk from a dropper, but over the next couple of hours, he would go from bad to worse.

At about 9 p.m., the neighbors and we decided that he needed to be put down to end his suffering. I cried. I hated the thought of someone taking him off where he would be scared and placed on a cold table and injected. I knew it was the right thing to do, though, so he wouldn’t starve himself to death, so I agreed.

I’ll be honest; I didn’t sleep much last night. I prayed God would take Mr. Bun Buns during the night so we wouldn’t have to have him put down.

And, as much as it hurt, God took Mr. George Bunikinz Bun Buns III (Husband added the “III” this morning). I teared up, but I was so happy. Mr. Bun Buns died on grass, in a safe place, where no predator could get him. We took care of him to the best of our ability, and at least he died somewhere outside, in peace.

Rest in peace, Mr. Bun Buns.

Hello, Friday. I've missed you.

I woke up today and thought it was Saturday. Don't you know I was sad when I had to get up.

I watched "Food, Inc." yesterday and now don't want to eat meat. I even tried to eat seafood yesterday and nearly couldn't. Thanks, evil food corporations that abuse our animals. It's not that I don't like meat -- I LOVE meat. But I don't want harmone-injected chickens or abused cows that stand in their own feces.

That's another matter for another day, though.

I did not wake up and run this morning, due to staying up too late last night. I don't think I would have done NEARLY as well today as yesterday, though, so it's probably a good thing I slept those extra 30 minutes.

The smell of burnt coffee in our office makes me gag.

I'm having to go through this blog as I write it and take out the overly-sarcastic comments. It's like the notes from class that I e-mailed to a friend yesterday. I had to put a note in there saying, "Sorry I put sarcastic comments all through my notes. I get bored in class."

Examples (directly from notes regarding psychoanalysis):

Characters can achieve great things through sublimation (I think. Frankly, it’s 9:09 and I’m on autopilot.)

Regression – return to an earlier stage of development in life, like when someone was a child, which may provide a temporary release from the anxieties of adult life (Is this what happens when I want to go to the zoo???!!)

Anti-hero – one type we’ve seen in some films is a hero who has a cynical or wounded quality about him. Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca. Sawyer. Just sayin’.

I don’t know what all he’s saying at this point.

Happy Friday! It's finally here!

Just do it

Huh.

I read a blog today about what you want from life. Do you want to stay single or be married? Do you want zero kids, one kid, or more kids? To travel or not to travel? To work or not to work? What do you want?

I’ve always known what I want most of all in life: Christ. I want to be His follower, and everything else comes secondary. But the title of the blog is what hit me the most: “Uncluttered.”

Uncluttered. To not have leaves, shoes, and too many clothes in my closet.

Uncluttered. To not look at one of the dog’s many toys and think, “Boy, I need to wash the dust off of that.”

Uncluttered. To be able to leave the doors of my bedrooms open because, for once, they are clean.

I seriously don’t know what that’s like.

I had a spring cleaning list over Easter – some of the items actually were accomplished. I cleaned my car inside and out (minus the trunk). Hubby and I (okay, more of Hubby and my dad) landscaped the yard. I washed the refrigerator inside and out. I organized my bathroom closet. But the three big ones: the kitchen pantry, the spare room (aka the “junk room”), and our bedroom closet were neglected.

They’re starting to drive me crazy.

So what to do? I’m going to start small and clean our bedroom. Tonight. (If my husband’s reading this, he’s passed out by this point.) And I’m not going to get discouraged if I don’t finish it tonight, either. But, dang it, I’m going to get some garbage bags and clean up the junk in that room and anything that does not fit or is no longer used is going to Goodwill.

This is my goal:

The remaining half of this week – Our bedroom

Next week (April 25-May 1) – Our closet

May 2-8 – Spare room

May 9-15 – Pantry

Let an end to the spring cleaning finally be in sight!!!

Well, this is certainly random

No one’s in the office yet, and if we’re best buds on Facebook (cause we all know that being friends on Facebook automatically makes you best buds with 1234895y89145 people) you know I’m annoyingly hyper today.

Hmmm…I just realized there’s a random “y” in that number. I’m going to leave it.

Going to the big Super Duper U today – hopefully next Tuesday will be the last time I have to go this semester. Hopefully my really awesomely nice professor will let me take my final next week instead of having to go back the following week. Hopefully I’ll get an A in his class and that crazy woman’s class so I don’t hear “Look at me, I made straight As” from my husband for a whole other semester. Yes, we’re super competitive. Not that I want him to do bad – I like him having straight As, but I like having straight As, too.

I snapped at a student for text messaging in class. Not just one or two texts that might have said, “Getting out of class early” or “Meet you at four” or “Can’t talk now; in class.” No, a whole stinking conversation. Seriously? Are you really that rude?

Yeppers.

Finally got back to running yesterday. Didn’t run O.N.C.E. last week. Oh, and did I mention I’ve got a 10k coming up May 1? Yeeaaaahhh…Did fairly well, though – 2 miles in 20:37. Good time, but I’ve got to get the length up (though, to my defense, we were meeting someone for dinner, and I didn’t have much time to run).

I keep looking at my calendar for conversation topics. I think that’s a sign I should stop.

(But, really quickly, found out I'm going to pick up my master's thesis tomorrow, yea! FYI, I graduated in 2008. Better late than never, though, right?)

(Also, btw, Dustin is doing fine. He came through surgery great and is now just working with physical therapy and his best-ever nurse, Rindy. =) )

The cops called

Rindy had a bad day yesterday that started with a phone call from who she thought was her husband.

“Hellllooooo.”

“Mrs. S?”

Not her husband, but calling from her husband’s phone.

“Yes? Who is this?”

“This is Officer So-and-so with the Police Department. Your husband’s been in a motorcycle accident.”

“You’ve GOT to be kidding me.”

And that’s how the afternoon went from good to very, very bad.

Thankfully, though, the wreck was not as bad as it could have been. An older lady hit his motorcycle from behind with her SUV, and he went flying through the air. His boss waited for her at the ER and stayed until she learned he was okay.

He’s heading into surgery in about an hour. While he’s walking and generally okay, he did break two finger bones and his wrist on his left hand. His right thumb is bandaged up, too, because he tried to break as soon as he realized something was wrong and probably bruised and strained it as well.

The orthopedic surgeon is going to put screws in his fingers and a plate in his wrist. It sounds bad – but it’s not as bad as it could have been. Praise Jesus!!

And, thankfully, the doctors said he should feel much better after the surgery. And he has a good sense of humor about the accident. My hubby told him that he got beat up by a 78-year-old woman, and he looked up and said, “No. She was 68. And, yes, she broke my arm and banged me up a lot.”

So lucky. So blessed.

We all were absolutely terrified when we heard he was in a motorcycle accident, because, as y’all all know, those usually don’t end well. For Dustin to have just a messed up arm is a major blessing. Yes, he’ll be sore, and yes, he has to endure surgery and recovery, but he’s alive and conscious and can be healed.

Anyway, pray for both of them as he goes into surgery and recovers. He was in a lot of pain yesterday, and we’re hoping that he feels better once they go in and fix him up.

So that was yesterday. How’s your today?