Ode to Isaac

Isaac is a nice young man.

He has a ponytail on his head.

Ten minutes after meeting me, 

Isaac wished that he were dead. 

Recently (aka when my mom was last in town), I decided to spruce up the guest bathroom upstairs.  I was inspired mostly by this picture of a gorgeous bathroom makeover.

 

I decided I could frame out the stock mirror and stain the cabinets, and voila! Gorgeous new bathroom!  Then my mom casually suggested I add some trim or moulding to the cabinets since they are completely flat as is.  Well, I couldn't really do that without doing the same thing to the drawers as well.  After a lot of measuring and trying to organize everything so I could reconstruct it, I headed to Home Depot to purchase the necessary supplies.  

Naturally, though, I didn't take a "before" pic before removing all the cabinets and drawers.  Apparently I don't have any pictures of the lovely oak finished fiberboard from when I painted the bathroom last year either.  I don't know why I would have neglected to include them.

At Home Depot, I found the trim/moulding aisle on my own... down in the lumber section.  This side of the store is foreign territory to me, and I am terrified by it.  I did my best to play it cool and act like I knew what I was doing.  After roaming up and down the aisle for about ten minutes staring at 20' pieces of seemingly identical choices, I finally found a sample board and narrowed down my choices.  I hate to make decisions, but AT&T decided that it was time for me to cowboy up and decide for myself.  The numerous attempts to send my mom the choices all failed, and I was on my own.  Ultimately, I settled on this for the cabinets and drawers:

 I was advised to go with pine over the fiberboard options because it will be going in a bathroom where there is a lot of moisture.  Figuring this out before making my purchase and getting it home made me feel extremely in-the-know. 

For the mirror, I decided to go with this:

 

The rosettes will go in the corners.  They are really not that much bigger than the moulding, but I couldn't hold them next to each other because there were more sample pieces glued to the board where I was trying to compare.  (Yes, I need a manicure.  Apparently I garden now.  A manicure will have to wait.)

In addition to not taking a "before" pic, I also didn't make an organized list of the cuts I needed.  I had them organized by where they go in the bathroom, but not by how many of each length I needed.  Quickly, I found a stool to sit on and some post its in my purse, and I came up with this: 

  

I was a little nervous that I was leaving pieces out, so I counted up all the pieces I needed.  Four for the mirror, and EIGHTY-TWO for the cabinets and drawers.  Yikes.  

 Now all I had to do was get the pieces cut.  

I thought that the store does this for you.  This is where Isaac enters the picture.  I wandered around, and he was the first soul I found wearing the famous orange apron.   I warned him that I had quite a few pieces to cut, but he was pretty apathetic.  

Okay, so the lumber section of the store is mostly foreign territory.  I have accompanied others on occasion, though, and witnessed the cutting of wood using a large, loud, scary-looking piece of machinery.  Isaac picked up a handsaw and starting cutting individual pieces with it.  Oh dear.  This poor dude is going to hate me.  I texted my mom to let her know the situation while Isaac got to work on the sixteen 11" pieces I would need.  My mom responded by telling me how impressed she was that I was getting them all cut at the store, rather than doing it myself at home.  Uhhhhh.  Am I supposed to do that?  I thought they cut it for you?!?!  She informed me that they will typically make a few minor cuts.  Poor Isaac.  At this point, I'd already been at the store for about ninety minutes.  When we got to the next cut size, a set of ten pieces, Isaac started cutting them in groups of 4-6 pieces at a time.  I have no clue how he managed this. 

He continued without complaint (but also without speaking to me), completing the fourteen 5.25" and fourteen 15.5" pieces.  Around this time, another guy was waiting with what seemed to be just one piece of wood to have cut.  I motioned for him to go ahead of me.  That was the last time I saw Isaac.  

The dude straight up abandoned me in the foreign land of the lumber aisles!  In his defense, I think that his shift was over.  At least that is what I infer from his repeated checking of the time in between cuts.  

This is when John came to my rescue to pick up the rest of the job.  He made the first two cuts for me.  When I then requested four of the next size, he asked how many more cuts I needed.  Uh oh.  He's going to make me do this on my own!! Yikes!! "Twelve?" I replied meekly. 

"Oh, let's go over to the next aisle.  It'll take us all day with the handsaw." 

Ha.  If only he knew.

After grabbing a few more items, I made it home for the real adventure to begin.

While I had my pieces cut to the appropriate lengths, I still needed to angle the ends to fit together in the corners of the cabinetry.  I was excited to finally use the miter saw my dad got me when Wonderlynn first informed me that I wanted to suggested I add some dimension to the cabinets with trim.

 

 

Remember how ridiculous it seemed to John that someone would cut twelve pieces of trim with a handsaw when the big scary machine was available?  I started to feel that way cutting my very first piece of trim.  For the second piece, I decided to time myself to see how long this adventure would take.  83 seconds.  From putting it in the miter box to cutting it and then picking it up.  A few quick calculations led me to the discovery that the remaining 80 pieces (plus the other side of all 82) would take me approximately 221.3 minutes.  

 

This discovery, combined with the realization that I don't exactly have a work table for projects such as this, explains why I spent all evening cutting pieces of trim in my living room.  Where I can watch Alias on Netflix while I work.  Somehow, I managed to cut one end of each of the 82 pieces of trim.  Tomorrow, I'll aim for the other end.  If feeling has returned to my fingers by then.  

I'll keep you posted. 

Love, 

Murphy & Me

On the Domestic Front

Ash is trash. 

When I moved into my house 13 months ago, my yard had several very large trees in it.

Trees that don't handle droughts well. 

Ash trees. 

A few weeks ago I noticed through the kitchen window that my fence gate was open.  I ran back to close it and found this in my backyard.

 

This picture does no justice whatsoever to the size of the tree.  I had a few other trees to trim, so I borrowed some tools and filled fourteen bags with tree debris. 

Fourteen.

Plus the gigantic branches that wouldn't fit in the bags.  

That was only the beginning.  I knew the giant tree in the back was dead.  Being so close to my house and my neighbor's fence, I really wanted to take care of it before the summer continued.  I tried calling around to get estimates for how much it would cost, but I wasn't getting phone calls returned.  I sent a few text messages to friends in the area looking for recommendations and one responded that he "and the boys could take care of it pretty quick." 

Hooray!! Free labor is always preferable to paid labor, right?  

I figured it would be a pretty simple process.  After all, Uncle Kevin (having seen pictures of the tree and knowing my success record with home improvement projects) assured me that I - a single, inexperienced female - could rent a gas pole saw and take care of it in half a day.  the only reason I didn't try this is the fact that I wasn't confident I could fit an 8' tool in my tiny civic.  

As soon as the recruited crew arrived and identified this tree they would be working with, they turned to one of the guys and asked: "What is it your father-in-law says about ash trees?"

Ash is trash.

Apparently said father-in-law is a landscaper, and that is his creed.  This was not the first ash tree this crew had faced.   

 They are huge.  And grow long, thin, spindly branches that resemble the long bony fingers of a giant creature in a horror film.  In my own tree trimming, I cut down branch after branch after branch of dead, leafless wood.  They are hideous.  I was delighted to get rid of this thing, even if it wasn't about to fall over and create a giant money pit.

Things started pretty simply.  Four grown dudes showed up in three pickups, with four kids.

They climbed, sawed, and cut.  The kids and I hauled to the trucks.  

The biggest hurdle was trying to keep the falling debris out of my neighbor's yard.  Being the planners that they are, these guys planned ahead.  They would cut just enough to make the branches ready to break, then put a chain around the branch, back up, and pull into my yard. 

 

(Faces hidden to protect the free labor.  If everyone finds out, they'll be less likely to help me again!)

The majority of the tree took about three hours to get down.  We filled three pickups with debris, and the guys ran to dump it all and pick up one more friend to help.  In that three hours, their three chainsaws broke numerous times.  Apparently those things are quite temperamental - chains coming lose and such.  These dudes are way more patient and determined than I am.  I would've given up quite quickly.  They just kept at it.  

 

When they got back, all that remained was the main stump.  

Given the chainsaw difficulties, they weren't able to saw all the way through.  Plan A was driving a truck onto my lawn, hooking the chain up to the truck, and trying to break it that way.  Unfortunately, the chain wasn't long enough, and we couldn't get anything (rope, tie-downs, etc.) to stay attached to the chain. 

Plan B was to muscle it and get all five dudes pushing as hard as they could.  

Again, there wasn't enough of the trunk cut through for this to work.

 

Plan C was to use the pole saw.  The chainsaws kept breaking, but this guy was pretty sturdy. They cut a little deeper into the trunk with it.  Eventually, they left and came back with a handsaw and took care of it in about fifteen minutes.  

 

 Here are the remains.  I have plans in store for the stump, so stay tuned.

Love,

Murphy & Me

We have a lot of catching up to do.

My father recently informed me that it's been too long since I posted anything.  Well, it's been about two months since he informed me.  That I haven't posted since October 9th.  It's far too overwhelming to try and recap everything that has happened since then, so I'm going to fill you in on the monumental events in my life since the beginning of May.  

Most noteworthy,  Katrina got MARRIED!

I tend to leave most of the photography up to my friends, but Libby and I did capture this masterpiece before the ceremony. 

 

It was fun to have (almost) everyone back together, but Megan's absence was notable.  

 

Thankfully, technology is crazy, and she was able to watch the entire thing from ZAMBIA. 

 Is that not ridiculous?!  Technology has also allowed me to have story time across the globe with my favorite four year old.

 

 Just look at that face.  Too.  Much.  Cuteness.

Even better, this precious mother/son duo will be making their way to 'merica soon!

The Spring also brought the much-anticipated return of baseball season.  For the first Rangers game I got to attend, baseball bingo was an obvious inclusion. 

They're struggling right now, but the Rangers are still surpassing all expectations.  Even after major changes to the clubhouse.  A few former team members have had welcome returns to Arlington with their new teams.  This, however, was too soon: 

The end of school also brought about a first in my five years of teaching.  

I successfully brainwashed my students.

Three of them.  Doomed to futures at Texas Tech, texas university, and (worst of all) LSU,

three of my wonderful students have officially stated that they now plan to attend Texas A&M University.  The two girls have practically decorated their future dorm room together.

Look at how they celebrated the good grades of their classmates!

In other news, I have a pet.  Yes.  Me.  A pet. 

Around the end of school, I started noticing this chirping noise that I was convinced was coming from my house.  I just knew there was an animal trapped inside.  I was finally convinced to go check the attic, so I went in the afternoon when the whole world was well lit and non-scary.  Naturally, I didn't go unarmed. 

This picture does not do justice, but I put on thick leather gloves, brought a giant (and heavy) flashlight, and brought along a container to trap anything on the off-chance that I saw and managed to capture something.  This happened to be my first ever trip into my own attic (I'm a great homeowner), and I was pleasantly surprised by how spic and span the previous owner left it.  So spic and span that it was clear there was no sign of life anywhere.  

After friends came over to consult, they sat in my living room for twenty-five solid minutes of silence until the chirping finally began.  We searched outside and inside.  We turned to the experts at google/youtube to compare animal noises.

Without question, I have a bat living in my backyard.

I have yet to actually see this bat.

Having stated previously that I'd be more creeped out by a rat than a bat, I had to eat crow.  I am equally creeped out by a bat.  Except that it's still outside.  And supposedly since it only makes noise at night it is healthy and not rabid. 

Still creepy, though. 

My friends suggested that naming it might make it less creepy, so we christened it Billy Bob.  Then a good friend added (since I was still not enthusiastic about this new creature) that Honey Bun is a name that has never frightened anyone.  Since then, I have almost anticipated Honey Bun Bill Bob Bat's arrival each night.

Okay not quite, but I do notice when he doesn't show up as early as usual. 

Last, but certainly not least, is the arrival of something I had been looking forward to since 2010.  

Fast & Furious 6

I bought my tickets a week in advance for the first showing, but a week later some friends gave me the best ever start to summer vacation: 

They brought me to see it again at a DRIVE IN.  These wonderful friends who had no desire whatsoever to see this movie drove me almost two hours away to a teeny tiny town to see it for the second time in nine days.  

Alright, so truthfully it wasn't the best ever movie for a drive in.  All the high speed action scenes and back-alley back-stabbing are better viewed on an enormous screen in a loud theater.  

But who could sit through a movie sitting on a patio chair in the bed of a truck, with a tiny portable radio as the only (although surprisingly great) sound system? 

Yes.  Of course I brought cowboy hats for us to wear.

On the long drive home, my friends were very curious about the back story to this sixth installment, and I realized that there were many details I have forgotten.  Don't let that prevent you from running to the next showing immediately - it's still wildly enjoyable.  It encouraged me to head to the nearest walmart and purchase the first four.  

Friends, you have until July 11th, 2014 to prepare yourselves. 

Ride or die.

Love, Murphy & Me

How did that get there?

Here in Texas, we don't have seasons exactly.  That being said, once the temperature drops below 85 degrees for the first time, we flock to the stores for chilli fixin's.  On Sunday I made my second giant batch in three weeks.  

I employ the tactics of Wonderlynn and double the recipe, so I can freeze half.  In retrospect, it was obviously a bad decision to pour from a giant pot into a large bowl while wearing a long sleeved white shirt.  

I wasn't surprised, then, when it splattered all over me. 

 

I was surprised, however, when I started doing laundry and pulled the shirt to spray some Spray 'n Wash on it. 

 

How on earth did I get chilli in my armpit???

Photo Purge

I should be asleep right now. 

But I'm not, so I'll fill you in on what's been keeping me so exhausted of late.

The most obvious change is that school started.  

 

Padre continued a tradition for the 22nd (I think?  My math is fuzzy right now.) year by sending me flowers on the first day of school.  He's the best dad there is.  It's my favorite part of a new school year beginning, and I love to brag about how thoughtful he is every year as people ooh and aah over flowers and ask who sent them.  These ones were champs, and they lasted two weeks! 

This is the first year in as long as anyone can remember that my district has started school on a Monday.  Needless to say, we were practically comatose by Friday afternoon.  That would be the same Friday afternoon that I crashed into bed before dinnertime, undeterred by the sun shining through the bottom of my window.  Saturday morning I was energized and ready to tackle a bunch of projects, including the last patch of unpainted hallway above the stairs.  I had gotten most of it done before school began, including the part directly above the stairs.  That part involved some acrobatics and a very sturdy ladder, along with lots of prayer and a "does this look safe to you?" text to madre.  

There was one last spot I couldn't get to with the ladder, so I pulled a MacGyver and taped a paintbrush to the end of the roller extender rod.  It worked like a charm.  I did all the trim up to the ceiling without one miss!

 

I also began a project that I finally finished last night.  

When I moved into my house, I discovered this cute spice rack hanging on the inside of the pantry door.  

 

As you can see in the picture, though, not all spice jars fit upright on the shelves.  I wanted a better solution.  I talked to my friend Gina, mother of the world's cutest baby-who-turned-one-yesterday (That's safe to say right?  I think he's the only baby I know who had a birthday yesterday.) to see if she had some baby food jars I could take off her hands.

 

Some chalkboard paint, a handmade stencil, and a few hours later...

 

Big improvement!! Look how cute they are!!  Here's a closeup: 

 

I ended up picking a few of the spices I use the most frequently and put in a large order to spicebarn.com.  I am pretty much set for the next few years. 

This weekend marked something even more exciting and noteworthy than the beginning of school - the opening weekend of Aggie football season!  My Ags made their SEC debut at home against Florida.  ESPN came out to host College GameDay, and seemingly everyone in the world was at the game.  I went full SEC mode and wore boots and pearls to a friend's watch party.  

To really get in the spirit of beatin' the hell outta those gators, I called around until I found a retailer who sold alligator meat.

 

I watched the game at a friend's house with a few coworkers.  Our host's wife graciously left me detailed instructions and ingredients for frying up the gator tail, which took me all of halftime and the better part of the third quarter.

 

At some point during this preparation, one of the guys asked me if there was bone in the meat.  I responded by asking "Aren't alligators invertebrates?  I don't think they have bones."

This was met with a very loud and dismayed "YOU'RE A SCIENCE TEACHER!!!!" followed by a lot of laughter in my direction.  I haven't bothered to look this up.  I'm still trying to figure out whether alligator is considered seafood or land-food.  

 

Thankfully, I managed to cook up the two pounds of gator without burning down the house (as predicted by the host) and somehow without noticing that cute tea kettle directly behind the pan I used for frying.  

The verdict?  The boys said the gator was good.  I was underwhelmed.  It wasn't bad, but I definitely wouldn't spend $12.99 a pound on it again when I could spend that money on a nice steak instead.

I was left with a slight lingering insecurity about my science-teaching ability, though. 

Fast forward to Sunday afternoon.

I was at school setting up safety stations to teach the students about all the lab safety equipment this week.  One of the stations was the Eyewash Station.

Here's the thing.  All the eyewash stations I have seen in our safety material and resources look like this:

I do not have one of those in my room.  I didn't have one last year, either.  That being said, both rooms are super old.  Many changes have been made to how labs are set up since they were first built. I did have this little guy, shown below, in my room.  Trying to be a thorough teacher (and to rid myself of any doubt that this also qualifies as an eyewash station), I wanted to check it out.

 

You can't see it in the picture, but there's a little lever on the back that you would pull.  My thought process included the assumption that the eyewash station wouldn't work unless the sink was running. 

That assumption, like most, was incorrect.

As soon as I pulled the lever, water began gushing everywhere.

As I laughed at myself, I was reminded that I need to show a little (read: a lot) more patience with my 11 and 12 year old students.  That being said, I do need to avoid catastrophes whenever possible.  As a result, this: 

 

was quickly updated for my students as this:

 

Love, 

Murphy & Me

Back to the Grind

Sorry for my extended absence.  

School started last Monday, and it is wiping me out.  

Last night I went to bed before midnight for the fourth time in seven days.  

Such bedtimes have included: 9:30 pm (last night), 7:30 pm (last Thursday night), and... wait for it... 6:45 pm (last Friday, after sleeping ten hours the night prior). 

That's right.  I skipped dinner and went to sleep earlier than most restaurants call an end to happy hour.  And I'd do it again in a heartbeat.  

All that to say, it might be a bit before I can stay awake long enough to type something of real substance.  In the meantime, feel free to send caffeine my way.  

Speechless

School starts tomorrow. 

I should be thinking about the last few things I need to get done before then.

Actually, I should be sleeping. 

Instead, I'm thinking about this handsome little man: 

 

That's him on his first day of school recently.

Last week he celebrated his fourth birthday.

Who is he exactly?  I'm going to let my precious friend Megan tell you.  Megan and I were roommates our sophomore year in college.  By the grace of God and the persistence of a few other friends of ours who are better at staying in touch with people than Meg and I are, we have continued to be friends, even though we live in different hemispheres.  

Since January of 2011, Megan has been living in Zambia working for Family Legacy.  Our other former roommate Katy has worked for them for several years as well, and after quite a few trips back and forth, she joined Megan as a resident of Zambia at the beginning of this summer.  

Even though they are so far away and seven hours ahead, the wonders of technology have enabled us to keep in touch... as much as, if not more than, we did while they were living in the United States.  Just yesterday, I got to face time with Katy for a full hour!  

Okay, enough background.  The following is Megan's blogpost about the boy pictured above.  With her permission, I copied and pasted it directly onto mine, but you can read it also on her blog here.

"I have an amazing story to tell you about a little boy. He turned 4 years old this week. He is a sweet, smart, and precious boy who is already displaying the Lord's glory.

When he was about a year and 6 months old, he was admitted into the hospital because of severe malnutrition.  Feeling the weight of taking care of him, his biological mother decided to abandon him at a hospital in Lusaka.  His father called the hospital a few weeks later to see what happened to his son.  By this time, he was sent to a local orphanage in Lusaka.  The father left his phone number, but nothing else.  His dad phoned rarely to check on him, but never intended to step in and take on full responsibility.  The orphanage was able to care for him more than his family ever could.  He was being fed 3 times a day and had housemothers who watched over him day and night.  Overtime, all his friends and the housemothers knew him as a joyful boy—even though his circumstances did not seem joyful.  Although he lived in an orphanage and was taken care of, he didn't have the one-on-one parenting, love, and support he should have had by his birth parents.  He stayed in the orphanage for almost 2 years. During this time, not one family member visited him.

I had the pleasure of meeting this sweet boy when I visited an orphanage one weekend in January. He was the happiest one of them all.  He ran and played with a huge smile on his face.  His personality and demeanor was intriguing. Even his house moms testified to his happy nature.  Although this little boy spent almost 4 years of his life without a mom and dad who truly cared for his well being, his Heavenly Father never left him.  His Heavenly Father already had a plan for him, and boy is it an amazing plan.  His Father not only has never forsaken him, but he has already destined an earthly mother to step in and care with ALL of her heart for him.

And that mother is me.

The Lord started speaking to me about becoming a mom in November of 2011.  I had 2 dreams about a little boy, I didn’t know who he was, but I knew that I was his mom.  I remember waking up both times and feeling a weight from the Lord. After my second dream, I asked the Lord to clarify if the dream was from him. In the next 3 days, I was without a doubt certain that he was calling me to motherhood--to adopt a little boy.  Now, you can only imagine the thoughts running through my mind.  I'm single. I live in Africa.  I work to educate orphans, not take on full care for them. How am I going to do this alone? When will I know that I've found my son? Is he already born? But the Lord is faithful.  Over time, he answered different parts of my anxiety and worry in a gentle way.  He even gave me a name to pray over: Elijah. Although I was staying obedient and waiting patiently, I went through many doubts of whether this is actually what the Lord was calling me to do.

On May 15th, I saw this picture of the sweet boy from the orphanage I visited in January.  When I looked at the picture, the Lord said, “Megan, this is what Elijah looks like.”  I was confused, because I wasn’t sure if the Lord was actually telling me that my Elijah will look similar or if this boy was actually Elijah.  I didn't say anything to anyone yet, but a few hours later, my roommate brought her computer to me with that exact same picture and said the exact same phrase, "Megs, this is what Elijah looks like." That’s when I felt this could possibly be my son.

The next day, I went to visit him. The Lord instantly connected my heart to my son.  He IS the boy I’ve been praying for. When I saw him, held him, played with him, and looked in his eye, I knew that it was my Elijah. Although that was not his birth name, the Lord placed it on my heart to change it too Elijah.  I’m very excited and humbled that the Lord has chosen me step in and care for this sweet boy!

The process of adoption in Zambia is a long and hard road.  It’s not easy.  There are many steps and tiny details that are not laid out specifically on paper.  This makes it very hard to get the right paperwork with the right documentation to finalize everything.  For example, it took me 3 months to finalize paperwork just for fostering him.  But, as I’ve said, the Lord is faithful.  He has walked ahead of me each step of the way.

On August 7^th, Elijah came home with me, and yesterday my sweet son turned 4 years old.  He is such a joyful and clever boy.  He is strong, content, nervous, scared, excited, but is now being loved the way God intended for him to be loved.  He is going to be a powerful man of God—he IS anointed. He has already begun praying and speaking with authority, like a pastor would. J Although the road ahead of me is long, bendy, and bumpy at times, I know it’s the straight and narrow path the Lord is calling me too. 

I am truly blessed that the Lord would not only call me to provide a home and a family for Elijah, but, to also work for Family Legacy, a ministry who provides support and families for hundreds of orphans within their home country. As of now, I’m taking one day at a time.  I don’t know what the future holds, but I intend to stay in Zambia as long as the Lord calls us here.

Malachi 4:6 is the verse the Lord has given me for Elijah:

“Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and awesome day of the LORD comes.  And he will turn the hearts of fathers to their children and the hearts of children to their fathers.”

Even in the small amount of time I’ve known my son, I’ve seen this verse displayed in his life. He will be the man of God he is called to be, in Jesus’ name.

Eli's Coming Home!!

Wrapped up after his first bath time at home! First car ride! Off to Pre-School! My Little Aggie! Mommy and Eli!

Precious Baby Boy, I see SO much of Jesus in you already.
You are home."

 

 

 I cannot even begin to express my excitement for Megan and Elijah.  For those of you who know me, though, perhaps you will understand just how overjoyed I am when I tell you that I start weeping every single time I look at a picture of this mother and son together.  I am so proud of my friend for taking a gigantic leap of faith and trusting in God's provision for her.  I eagerly look forward to the day when I get to meet Eli and wrap him up in a big hug!

If you are interested in contributing to Megan and Elijah with financial support,  you can click here to make a one-time donation or set up recurring monthly support.  You can also support Katy by clicking here.