Saradactyl.com

Cool and the gang

The photochicks! Waiting for the wedding party to arrive. Signed, Photodactyl

Its `where are you` wednesday!

Blogging from the toilet. Its practically radioactive up in this piece!! Signed, Stinkydactyl

Happy li'l trees

One of my favorite things to do on a lazy Sunday afternoon is to curl up on the couch, flip on PBS, and watch Bob Ross paint a kitschy mountain scene - complete with azure skies and happy li'l trees. (whispers: just like that.) It used to amuse me that something so simple as oil paint blotches on a canvas could bring Afro Bob so much joy. But now that I'm older I realize that it takes time and effort to extract joy out of life - even if it does involve touches of cadmium yellow mixed in with your timberline green.

So, for today? Here are some of MY happy li'l trees....

• Midol - it's how I spell relief.
• Twitter - all the cool kids are doing it!
• Apples to Apples - it is wrong to have that much fun.
• Salem Chapel - church? community? (whispers: it's both)
• Blog Comments - *eye roll* I'm sorry, but it makes me SO happy. Such a 'ho.
• Speedlight Flash - such a small thing makes SUCH a big difference in a photo.
• A Full Piggybank -  I LOVE SPARE CHANGE!!!!!
• Delicious Bass - and tether ball.
• Leeland - have you met them? NO?! Go introduce yourself.
• Gas for $3.50 a gallon - Whooooops. Wrong list.
• Friends - how cool is it when God brings just the right people into your life?
• The Answer Is - very. Very cool.

"This is your bravery test: Let's go back to the big brush." - Bob Ross

Unseemly

That just aint right. Signed, Shockedodactyl

Taking Out the Laundry

As soon as I started crying, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop. But to those who have been praying: thank-you. It's exactly what I needed. I truly believe that the Holy Spirit has allowed me a glimpse... a small peek of what the Lord feels toward those who blatantly turn their backs on Him: compassion mingled with grief. What is viewed by me as weakness, God sees as very very strong. The problem is - I've been stumbling around completely devoid of emotion. Numb. Matter-of-fact. I hear myself saying things like, "Yes, I'm doing fine." and "Wow - God is revealing SO MUCH of Himself to me - how could I NOT declare His goodness?" And those things are true. GOOD! But can also serve as clever disguises for issues that need to be practically and spiritually dealt with.

It's like that old stanky pair of white ankle crew socks that have been laying in the corner of your bedroom floor for 3 weeks. Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about. You know, that corner that you walk by day in and day out, but other important things get in the way? You tell yourself that you'll get to the laundry tomorrow, because you just don't REALLY have the time to deal with it today.

Two days turn into nine, and let's just say you go nearly three WEEKS without doing laundry. Heh, because (not speaking from experience, of course) three weeks is about the limit to which you can get away with not doing any laundry, right? So - let's say then on TUESDAY, you need a pair of socks to wear - but. Crap. You haven't done laundry yet. Your eye wanders slowly to the corner of the room. *cue the tumbleweed* Who will win? Your pride? Or the socks? You tell yourself that they're not THAT bad. The last time they were worn, it was only for a few hours anyway. How dirty could they be? You stalk the ambiguously dirty footwear, and gingerly pick them up from the floor. Well. They don't smell half-bad!! And after all - you don't REALLY have a choice do you?

So you do the unthinkable and you put them on. You even take them for a test drive to the kitchen. Now - if you've ever worn 3-week old socks, you know that your body heat just reactivates the stank. The decision then is yours - let them stay on your feet, and just tie your shoe laces extra tight as a sort of make-shift stank sealer? Or do you cancel your plans and make a date with Tide?

Just take out the freakin' laundry already. The mountain seems INSURMOUNTABLE, doesn't it? But you do like any sensible person would: take it one load at a time. Put things into their designated piles. Whites. Towels. Darks. Linens. Delicates. And you SCALE that mountain one stanky load at a time.

REMEMBER: treat each load accordingly! You might need to take some extra care to get those set-in stains out of your whites, and be sure to be gentle with the delicates. Scour the towels! Maybe add an extra fabric softener sheet to that load of darks? Do whatever needs to be done.

There is no need for walking around in three-week old socks when God offers you His Downy fresh goodness. So, c'mon. We can do this. I'll help you fold.

Sprite

This morning I woke up exhausted as usual, but managed to leave the house 15 minutes early - allowing me to stop off at the Evil Mermaid for my standard triple grande breve 3 splenda latte before heading in to work. I was bright. Chipper. Friendly. My co-worker over the wall said to me at one point: "Sara. You are so nice." And she wasn't being sarcastic or anything! Promise. Well, I think. Hmmmm.

ANYWAY.

I also happen to work for the same company as 1/2 of my parental unit (the male one), and typically it's just a standard icy greeting day in and day out. But today, he came by my desk several times to talk about car insurance, and flex schedules, and life in general. And THEN around lunch time, he gave me a freshly dispensed bottle of Sprite. My first thought was: "Wow, how did he know I enjoy a lemon-lime carbonated beverage?? Cool. He really IS making an effort." And then I saw him sheepishly hiding the can of Coca Cola behind his back.

He had just gotten the Sprite by accident, and I was the recipient of his cast-off.

I was later informed that earlier this morning he had served my Mom divorce papers via FedEx which my younger sister had to sign for. As I stumbled out of the building at 5 o'clock with a slight inkling as to what it would feel like to be kicked in the balls if I had them - I came to the searing understanding that the entire morning had been an Elaborate Ruse. A lie. A ploy for him to feel out the situation and see how much I knew. Whether I was as pissed and hurt as the sister who had called to blast him out earlier that morning. Did he tell me what was going on? What was said? What had happened? No. It was just me. Ignorant, foolish, dopey me. Blithely walking around with a heart ever slightly more full because of a father's seeming attempt at some semblance of a relationship with me.

Sitting there on the front seat of my car in the 82 degree NC early-spring heat - I looked down at the flat and now-warm bottle of Sprite, and realized I have always been the recipient of my father's cast-offs.

If he wasn't too tired.... maybe we could play catch later?
If his friends weren't free for a round of golf.... then maybe *I* could go hit a ball with you next week?
I know you're really busy... but I'd love to go fishing sometime?

Next week never came, it was never late enough, and sometime amounted to one-time. And eventually I stopped making an effort, because fool me once - shame on you. Fool me 30,409 times... well.

You know - the events that have unfolded over the past year have been grueling, and to an outsider may seem like the LAST thing someone like me would need to deal with. You know. ON TOP OF EVERYTHING ELSE. But can I just tell you..... I absolutely praise Jesus for this season.

I have been walking around for most of my life believing lies about God. It's so sickeningly cliche, but a woman's relationship with God is heavily operated through the filter of her relationship with her earthly father. And my own father has done an exceedingly GOOD job of placating me with gifts and empty promises. Which to an untrained eye looks healthy. Happy. Right. Good. [sidebar mini-rant: if someone is willing to make a HUGE effort to weave such an elaborate web of lies - why not be willing to give something real?]

The point is - throughout the past several months, I have been given a STARK contrast of who my earthly father IS NOT, and Who my Heavenly Father really IS.

God is clear and decisive - there is no lie or darkness in Him! He does not see it as a chore or a burden to spend time with me - He wants..... DESIRES close relationship. He knows me. He knows the BIG stuff, and He knows the small things. And He CARES. HE CARES! He knows that I enjoy a lemon-lime carbonated beverage, and He understands why the searing beauty of every sunset breaks my heart e.v.e.r.y.t.i.m.e.. He knows how hard it was for me to lose my friend this year. He knows why I've been carrying around this dead person on my back for the past 9 years. (He doesn't approve - but He knows.) He knows when to kick my butt, and when to just let me cry into His chest.

Without this season, I would NEVER have understood that with God - next week is everyday, sometime is all the time, and later is always NOW!!

He is so. so. SO GOOD.
And Sprite? Is surprisingly refreshing.

"Now to Him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of His glory with great joy, to the only God, our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen." (Jude 1:24)

Mmmmm.

Hello, lovah.

What's up, fools?

I can't believe it. An entire April Fool's day - WASTED. I could have been so much more cruel. I disappoint myself. I remember one year when I was but a child of 8 or 9 - I was spending the day at a friend's house, and I decided to play a wee trick on the ole parents. I called them up (with my friend egging me on in the background) and left a message on the answering machine that went like this:

*screaming*

*more screams*

MOM! MOM! DAD! THE HOUSE! *fake crying* THE HOUSE IS ON FIRE! CAN'T GET OUT!!!! CAN'T. GET. OUT. WHAT DO I DOOOOooooOoOoOOoOOO?

*scream, scream, scream - dissolves into a fit of giggles* HA HA - APRIL FOOLS! APRIL FOOLS!

After my Mom recovered from the stroke, I was grounded for that little stunt. Heck - I'm STILL grounded. Not funny yet, Mom? See - some things are just OFF LIMITS in the realms of jests and jokes. AIDS - not funny.  The laser stun mode on the Windex spray bottle - horrifying. Pretending like you're trapped in a burning building and your last phone call is to your family's answering machine - never gonna BE funny.

It is my personal belief that all good humor has three characteristics: 1. Truth; 2. Cruelty; 3. Characterization of the obvious. And that is why I'll die old and alone with my milk gone sour - STILL incapable of appropriately wielding a bottle of Windex.

It's a weird stage of life for me - because all of those hopeful and starry-eyed years have passed by. 18....19....21....25..... It's as though my years are becoming less sharp? The birthdays are starting to blur together, and I have a hard time remembering whether I'll be 27 or 28 this year. Eh. What's the difference, really? 26, 27, 28 - same thing. These are the humdrum years. The glossed-over years. After having come through those MAJOR MILESTONES - it's like LEAPING over mountains and gorges - only to arrive at a very small matter of stepping over a mud puddle. Eh. OLD HAT!

That is - unless by some unfortunate turn of events: you miss. You step right IN the mud puddle - causing you to lose both your mind and your perspective. You think - OH, WHAT'S THE POINT???? My foot is all muddy from this damned stupid puddle, I might as well lay down and roll around in it for a while. FOOLISHNESS! Why not travel on and change your sock? Just because your foot is mucked up, doesn't justify the dirtying up of the rest of your body.

Honestly - sometimes, I think it would be a much better situation if I had someone to help me look out for those mud puddles. Maybe put down a coat or pull me back when I'm getting ready to step in it? It's like a minefield out here... and navigating it alone can be pretty treacherous business. Next thing you know, you're knee deep in a weird puddle contemplating the comfort of a nice mud bath.

It's true. Kinda cruel. And unfortunately - quite obvious.

So, I guess maybe the rules don't always apply.