Category Archives: Stuff I Actually Think

Sunday Funnies

9 TV & Movies/Books & Entertainment, Stuff I Actually Think,

www.wordsolver.net

You can tyoe in your name and see all the words that can be made from the letters of your name.

Jeanie Rhoades turned into things like:  hoarsened, adhesion, inroads, roadies, handier, jonesed, sneered, adheres, needier, nerdish {what??}, headier, handier, hernia, joiner, shrine, ironed, earned, adorned, aider, dares, nears, needs, denari, hardnosed, heroine.

My favorite ones: reasoned, serenade, ordains, seed, seeder, soiree, naiads, danish, adios, adore, hairdo, radish, radio and radios.

Your search will just include the first 500 words, unless you put in “filters.”  And you can click on any word for the definition.  Like “sorehead” {how did that get on my list??}

Sorehead \Sore”head`\, n.

One who is disgruntled by a failure in politics, or the like. [Slang, U.S.] [1913 Webster]

The Collaborative International Dictionary of English v.0.48 [gcide]

Just a little Sunday-morning fun.

The rush

1 Christ is All, 4 Home & Garden/Food & Seasons, Stuff I Actually Think, , , ,

Busy.  No stop-and-smell-the-roses time.  Activity swirling.  Good things.  Fun things.  Flurries of excitement.  Outbursts of thankfulness.  But, battles, too.  Violence against my heart by the enemy of my soul.  Picking up what got shattered, fully aware I possess nothing that can fix it.  Guarding the heart, o, guarding the heart.  Lord, cover me, here, when so much is at stake, when despair comes near.  Cover me.

One quick trip to the garden after a night rain.  I pull a weed that has dared to become a squatter, surely believing I won’t be around anytime soon.

Breaking the surface releases instant joy.  I smell earth.  I inhale the black, rich scent of the slightly moist soil and recklessly plunge my hand into that from whence I came.  I breathe it deeply for a second and linger for one more, my eyes closed with the sun warming the top of my very being.  I have to leave.  I have a meeting. The urgency that is propelling me, it suddenly becomes clear, will fade away.  The time I spend with my Life in the garden must increase.  I have found my place.  Deep breath.

I am merely dust.  I know my kind.  It is where I belong.

google image  But it looks a lot like what happened yesterday.

Note to self:  The garden.  Again.  Where He always meets me.  How could I forget?

SIXTY-two, and still so cool!

2 Mi Familia, 5 Songs I am Singing, 9 TV & Movies/Books & Entertainment, Stuff I Actually Think, ,

Happy Birthday David

Happy Birthday, David Cassidy.

Where hath my youth gone???  Well-he is still performing, that is where!  PLEASE COME TO DENVER, David Cassidy!

Heck, please google your name and stumble upon this blog and leave me a comment.  :)  For which I would write another whole blog (if you do a search, you’ll see I have mentioned you before a time or two, with great love and affection)!!!

Note–how I suddenly began writing directly to David Cassidy himself as if he actually might read this.  Haha.  A girl can dream, can’t she?!

images, www.davidcassidy.com
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FuejoIh0Cfk

And in case you don’t know how serious I am about loving David Cassidy, see my kids’ Mother’s Day tribute to me in 2008. They recorded their own tracks and they lip-sync’ed to mimic a real Partridge Family experience. LOVE.

The whirlwind

1 Christ is All, 5 Songs I am Singing, Stuff I Actually Think

 People standing 4 feet away might not even notice.

1: a small rotating windstorm of limited extent; any of several relatively small masses of air rotating rapidly around a more or less vertical axis and advancing simultaneously over land or sea, as a dust devil, tornado, or waterspout.

2 a: a confused rush : anything resembling a whirlwind, as in violent action or destructive force.    b: a violent or destructive force or agency; any circling rush or violent onward course.

google image

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death

Your perfect love is casting out fear

And even when I’m caught in the middle of the storms of this life

I won’t turn back, I know you are near

And I will fear no evil, For my God is with me

And if my God is with me, Whom then shall I fear?

Oh no, You never let go

Through the calm and through the storm

Oh no, You never let go

In every high and every low

Oh no, You never let go

Lord, You never let go of me…

I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on.

There will be an end to these troubles, but until that day comes,

Still I will praise Him, still I will praise Him…” (Matt Redman, “You Never Let Go”)

Just as I finished writing this, the tornado sirens went off and a storm passed violently through.  Rain came down hard.  Minutes later, the birds are chirping and the sun is shining and it. is. still.

My peeps

3 Celebrations & Festive Events, Stuff I Actually Think, ,

Jesus lives.  And He is life-giving.

Proof:   Gavin, Hunter, Guinivere, Gemma May, Averi-J, and Amelie Belle!

 The 12-second look to music

In other news:  I have taken to using YouTube-provided music as much as possible because I hate when they crack down on music I add.  NOT ENOUGH OPTIONS (like fade, or even good music choices)!!  *fit-throwing now*  *exasperated sigh*  Oh well.

And-what to do the leftover Peeps:

You can make peep S’mores (hey, we eat chicken for dinner, people!) or just throw them in the microwave and watch them puff way up.  Then explode.  Or let them get crunchy and hard and put them in your cereal.

Easters past

2 Mi Familia, 6 Looking Back // Memories!, Stuff I Actually Think

1975, I think.  I was 14.  Tim would have been about 11.

I was wearing “Jeanie-green.”

 

All the Little Landers.   1973

Danny was 6.  Tammy was 7.  Tim would have been 9 (his birthday is near Easter), and Joe would have been 11.  Me in my yellow peasant-style (remember Gunne Sax?) dress?  I was 13.  This black and white photo was taken by a blind guy.  No kidding.  He was blind and he took pictures.  Harold.  True story.

Joey-Timmy-and-Jeanie in 1966

My mom’s photos were in a box in Lousiana for many years, lost we thought.  Lots of water damage.  We were 5-3-and-6.  Hated all those pin curls my mom was always putting in my hair.

1968.

Tammy and Danny stole the show, but I loved my lavendar taffeta dress with the cape.  Made by my mama.  I was 8.

Timmy was a newborn in 1963.

Little Joey was just 2 and I was 3 1/2.

I loved my peach coat.

The piece-de-resistance:

1970.  My dad was planning a huge service in a large rented auditorium with our denomination’s radio personality.  Some ladies in church took me downtown on Saturday to get my hair done (and yes, that is ALL my hair) because I wanted to be like Dottie Rambo.  I came home and had to go door-to-door handing out Easter service flyers with my dad in windy weather.  But it held up, even after sleep. Wasn’t I just the picture of a little Pentecostal girl??   I was 10.

Easters meant new clothes and hats, usually.  It meant door-to-door flyers.  It meant waking up to Easter baskets filled with candy from the sweet mamala.  It was long days of church, morning and night, singing hymns that had impossible notes and big Easter dinners (usually ham, sometimes a big egg hunt at Aunt Rosie’s with a coconut cake in the shape of a bunny) and it meant being a Christian is worth celebrating.  Our traditions may seem silly, but it is our high, holy day.  He lives!

May it ever be so.

All the days planned for me

Stuff I Actually Think

Heading south on I-25 this afternoon we saw an almost-terrible accident on the other side as a semi t-boned a small car coming off a ramp, trying to beat the truck.  Dirt and black smoke, the stench of brakes, the air suddenly thick with debris.  The trucker, who managed somehow to avoid an accident that might involve a number of cars and trucks, had had to work hard to avoid killing the driver of the car, who within seconds (and maybe before the accident) was on talking on his cell phone.

How anyone could have the presence of mind to be talking on the phone that quickly with the grid of a truck literally in his face, I am not sure.  But that driver got a reprieve.  That driver didn’t die.  Miraculously. There are more days for him.

Just getting back into Brighton a few hours later, emergency vehicles everywhere.  Traffic is backed up a mile or more.  We top the hill, going slowly around as the emergency staff directs us, into the wrong lane.

The sun is shining brightly.  The day is beyond gorgeous.  I spent the morning with my little Kelley kids, spring break.  We painted, read books, ate Dilly Bars and enjoyed the patio swing.  I spent the afternoon in nice meetings with great people.

A white sheet flutters in the gentle breeze over a lifeless body. The sun keeps shining.  The mangled motorcycle (I guess it is a motorcycle?) in the ditch just beyond.  No more days for him.

“Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be.

Remind me that my days are numbered—

how fleeting my life is.

You have made my life no longer than the width of my hand.

My entire lifetime is just a moment to you;

at best, each of us is but a breath.”

Psalm 39.4-5 NLT