Journey of the Magi

This is one of my favorite poems. It produces a longing in me. To experience in my own life something so real that I "should be glad of another death." Hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Or at least a little.

Journey of the Magi by T.S. Eliot

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times when we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities dirty and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wineskins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

An 18 Year Old Love Affair

Yesterday I went to the NKOTB "The Block" Concert. It was actually a decent show. They either are good business men themselves and/or have an excellent marketing team. The show was well put together and not too cheesy. It had just the right balance of old school and new school. (And I wasn't even a fan back in the day.)


Their opening act, Lady Gaga . . . well, I don't even know what to say about her. She definitely has some heavy european influences, is very dramatic, and likes bats. Click here http://www.ladygaga.com/ if you want to catch more of her.


Natasha Bedingfield more than made up for the first act by being her awesome and sweet self. She was so nice. And she said it best as she dedicated one of her songs to the whole arena full of women. She said she thought the NKOTB Reunion tour was sweet because it is the culmination of an 18 year old love affair. What a thoughtful and poignant point of view, and so true. I saw a whole stadium full of grown women turn into giggly, giddy 13 year olds the instant NKOTB came out on stage.

It is an interesting situation to be in a room full of people so like yourself. The whole room was full of women, ages ranging from 28ish to 33ish, with a sprinkling of begruding husbands or boyfriends mixed in. We were all different shapes, sizes, and colors, but there for one purpose--to see New Kids On The Block. There is a solidarity felt when one is in such a homogeneous environment. And it was kind of awesome to watch . . . thousands of women singing the lines to songs they probably didn't even realize they still knew.

Overall, I give it a thumbs up. Good job, NKOTB, on the comeback. And kuddos for being so forward thinking to become the original "boy band" so long ago . . . I'm not sure anyone's given you all the credit you deserve for that.

Boo part Two

Evidently, I'm not the only one who thinks it smells like fries. I'm not sure what the "no one dies!" part means, but this is a sweatshirt that you can buy at Cafepress.

Boo for BioDiesel

Before you get too riled up, hear me out.

I understand the benefits of Biodiesel. I understand that it's a viable alternative to traditional fossel fuels.

But it is not my friend.

Today, as many days, I left work around 6 pm. At 5 pm I ate a small snack because I started to get hungry. By 6 o'clock I was getting hungry again and decided it was time to go home. I thought about going through a drive through, but decided I didn't need to spend the money nor did I have room in my "caloric budget" for the calories--instead I made a plan to stop by Fred Meyer on my way home. So, I got straight on the freeway and headed north.

But as I drove, I found my stomach grumbling more and more. At first I couldn't identify the problem, but soon I realized the yummy smell of french fries was wafting through the interior of my car. I'm thinking, do I have left over french fries in the floor board of my car? (not unheard of) Are they getting heated up? No, my car was actually pretty clean--no left over fast food here. And there are no restaurants near I-5 in this part of town. Where is that smell coming from? My hunger is beginning to conjure up images of a giant scary Burger King figure chasing my car down the interstate! And then I spot it. The dreaded bumper-sticker. It's on the car in front of me. I've seen it before . . . "This car powered by Biodiesel."

I'm trying to treat my body and my pocketbook better these days: trying to lose a little weight and not to eat out so much, but at that moment I was having trouble focusing . How's a girl supposed to be successful when she can't even drive down the road without her senses being bombarded by grease? It's like driving through the midway at the county fair--visions of funnel cake and elephant ears danced through my head.

Thank goodness I've encountered this phenomenon before and I've a learned a couple of things about how to resist the King's attacks. I forced myself to imagine the yummy sun-dried tomato, feta, and spinach pizza I was going to make when I got home. And somehow, by grace, I made it to the grocery store, and then home to my house without taking any detours through a drive-thru.

Not every day is so successful.

So, hats off to you environmentally friendly types who drive a biodiesel powered vehicle--I'm glad you're doing your part to reduce our need for fossel fuels. But my plea goes out to you biodiesel technology creating scientists--if you can make a car run on leftover grease, can't we do something about the smell?

Go Cougs!

This is how one should dress on a beautiful, crisp, fall day in the Pacific NW!

Motivated by fear of being eaten by a Lion

When I was in kindergarten I must have been a little pill, or at least that's the conclusion I've come to. How, you may ask, did I come to this conclusion? Well, my kindergarten teacher purchased a book for me from the Scholastic Book Fair; a book I came to know as "I Don't Care Pierre." Basically, Pierre's response to everything is "I don't care." And eventually, at the end of the book, he gets eaten by a lion because he doesn't care.

I know. It's a little startling, isn't it?

In fact I had several recurring dreams as a little girl and young woman, and one of them stemmed from this book, I'm pretty sure. My whole family was at my house for a gathering and a pack of lions came and ate everyone except my Aunt Gail and me. We were smart enough to climb up on kitchen chairs and this somehow protected us from the roaring beasts. My dream always ended with Gail and I standing on our respective chairs across the room from each other with the lions walking in circles below us. Somehow in my dream those chairs seemed really, really tall.

To be fair, I guess that crazy recurring dream wasn't all the book's fault. I also frequently dreamt that a giant fire-breathing crab would come over the hills south of the Valley and come straight for our house, leaving a charred, blackened, empty path in it's wake. I know it sounds silly now, but I always woke up terrified as a child.

Anybody got a Joseph in their back pocket who wants to interpret for me? I can't promise fame and fortune, but I've got more dreams :)

Recently, while perusing a Scholastic Book Fair flyer, my mind was flooded with grammar school memories, including Pierre. But it wasn't until I was taking a stupid interview on Facebook (more on the interview in a sec) that I decided to google the book. I found out the name is actually Pierre: A Cautionary Tale in 5 chapters and a Prologue by Maurice Sendak. Some of you may be familiar with one of his more popular books, Where the Wild Things Are. In my research I found out that Pierre was originally published as part of set called The Nutshell Library, which included Alligators All Around, Chicken Soup with Rice, Pierre, and One Was Johnny. I've ordered a couple of used copies of Pierre . . . we'll see if any of them are the same printing as the one I received in the late 1970's. It's looked kind of like this, but paperback.

This week one of my Facebook friends sent me a request to take an interview. (This morning I passed the interview request on to many of you.) No offense to anyone who sends me requests, but I usually ignore about 90% of them (and I won't be offended if you ignore mine); however, I was bored and I decided to check this interview out. Basically I just answered questions . . . and more questions . . . and more questions. Many of the questions are goofy and easy to answer, but some are particularly poignant and surprisingly insightful.

For me, question #144 was: What motivates you?

I couldn't come up with an answer. Welp, that's enough of that quiz, I thought, and I moved on to my lil' green space (an equally great way to waste time). But it bugged me. Shouldn't it be easy to figure out what motivates me? And everytime I opened Facebook, the question taunted me the in the back of my mind . . . hahahaha, "What motivates you, Angela?"

Finally, on Thursday night, after a great time of fellowship and worship at The Gathering, I came home feeling pretty introspective and opened my computer with the intention of updating my blog and maybe posting some vacation pictures (which I still haven't done).

But, I'll just check Facebook real quick before I start blogging.

I couldn't help it. I opened Facebook and then the interview application and just stared at that question. "What motivates you?" I could think of all the things I wanted to say: Jesus, a personal sense of satisfaction, pleasing my parents, wanting to make the world a better place, etc. But I knew none of them would be true. And then I tried to trick myself. "Well, just put one of them down. It doesn't really matter how you answer a stupid question on a stupid Facebook interview. It doesn't have to be the truth."

But in a moment of transparency with myself I realized that the answer often is, “Fear of what will happen if I don’t do something.” For example, Why do I brush my teeth? I'm afraid I'll get gingivitis if I don't. Why do I drive the speed limit (most of the time)? I'm afraid I'll get a speeding ticket if I don't. Why am I honest? I'm afraid I'll be caught if I'm not. Why am I working to lose weight? Because I'm afraid of the health problems that will ensue if I don't. Why do I go to work? Because I'm afraid of being fired if I don't. Do you hear all the negativity here? Suddenly I remembered Pierre. And it hit me: I am motivated by the fear of being eaten by a lion. And evidently, this has been a lifelong habit, if at the tender age of 5 or 6 my kindergarten teacher already saw the pattern.

I've always been a procrastinator and now I think I kind of understand why.

If I'm motivating myself with fear of consequences, I'm not stirred to complete the task until the consequences are looming so large in my mind I can't avoid them (hence all the papers finished at the crack of dawn in college). I need to change the way I talk to myself. Why do I brush my teeth? Because I like the way my smile looks when my teeth are clean and white. Why do I drive the speed limit? Because it's a safe and responsible way to behave (okay, maybe that one's a stretch). Why am I honest? Because Jesus says it's the best way to live and I know from personal experience that it is. Why am I working to lose weight? Because I care about myself and want to treat my body well. Why do I go to work? Because I enjoy the sense of personal satisfaction when I work hard and do my job to the best of my ability.

I'm probably over-simplifying this, but I'm a bit overwhelmed with how this motivation issue affects all areas of my life.

I am motivated by the fear of being eaten by a lion. Thanks, Maurice Sendak.

6.

6. No sixth excuse—writer’s packing for her trip to Kansas!

In fact, there aren’t any more excuses. Writer has a bad habit of not finishing what she starts!

7.

7. My dog ate my homework, or I guess, rather, my blog post.

Well, actually, I don't have a dog. But I do have a cat and a rooster. Technically speaking, he's not my rooster. I'm not sure who he belongs to, but he does live in the parking lot of my building and sometimes hangs out by the front of my car.

My cat is another story. She is mine and as big as a small dog. If she had an affinity for eating paper she could put away my homework and yours too. Her name is Sagwa, named after the children's cartoon, thanks to my neice and nephew. Her favorite activites include sleeping on her blanket, eating, pushing Beckie and I off the couch, chasing Beckie's cat Max through the house, and sprawling in a very unladylike fashion in the middle of the livingroom floor.

This has nothing to do with why I haven't posted to my blog this summer, except that it's an example of the kind of tangents that often distract me from the task at hand.

Addendum to 7.

Beckie hasn't seen the rooster in several days and thinks he may have become dinner for the parking lot pavers. Yikes!! I'm gonna miss his fluffy little head. Or a less dramatic possibility is that he's hiding somewhere because of the rain. We'll hope for the best and keep you posted.

8.

8. Trips to the valley filled up every spare weekend--no time to blog! Maybe not every spare weekend, but I have made lots of trips over the mountains this spring and summer. Here are a few of the highlights.



Every year on Mother's Day weekend, Zillah, WA celebrates Community Days! And my family goes to the annual Lion's Club breakfast. "One egg please."





After the breakfast, comes the parade . . .






and after the parade comes one of the smallest little carnivals you've ever seen. But when you're under the age of ten, all you really need is a really tall slide!

The next time I went to the Valley was in June for a candle party my friend was having. I had just finished a quilt for her little girl and was able to give it to her at the party.

Here is her precious baby girl surrounded by her new "princess" quilt.

And here are the yummy candles I got at the party.

Gold Canyon Candles are fantastic!

July brought a bittersweet trip to the Valley for the 4th of July weekend and the "Thrill'ah in Zillah." As I began my 3 hour trip home, my sister called me to tell me that a dear friend had died, and then had the audacity to tell me not to wreck through my tears! I usually enjoy the beautiful drive but on this day it was juxtaposed by mourning the loss of our friend and grieving for the wife and children he left behind.

The 3 hours were also therapeutic and by the time I got to the Valley I felt ready to join my family and the celebration.

But first, my sister and I had fun putting together a new table we purchased for my Dad for father's day! Who says girls aren't good at spatial reasoning?

The fun continued Friday afternoon by showing our friends some of the fun sights around Zillah. "Tip me over and pour me out!"

Friday and Saturday evening found us around the campfire perfecting our smore making abilities!

And Sunday morning brought worship, celebration, and tears!

I didn't make it home in August, but the second weekend in September I travelled home to see my Grandparents and celebrate the recent marriage of a cousin.

My grandma and I sat out on their porch after breakfast chatting the morning away. Here we are . . . learning about the finer points of taking a self portrait from a flattering angle.

And I'm not sure what that is behind my head, but for the record I am not wearing some kind of "bun covering."

9.

9. I've been so busy updating my Facebook picture albums that I forgot to blog.

But, in the words of Jessica's friend Andrea, Facebook isn't "a real blog?" But, oh that's right. I do have a "real blog"; however, it's not speaking to me right now (see "Blog Star" post). Or rather, it's not speaking for me right now.

10.

10. Neighborhood hooligans broke in and stole my computer! How am I supposed to keep up with my posts when I don't have a computer? . . . er, wait, that happened in November of 2007.

However, I was recently reminded of the break-in while posting pictures on Facebook about moving.

This picture shows our old house the way it looked before we started tearing it apart and packing it up to move. Notice the afore mentioned computer in the foreground. Which brings me back to the hooligans, since they were a major part of our reasoning for moving.



Since Jess moved out, Beckie and I decided we needed to downsize and vacate our downward spiraling neighborhood. In July 2008 we moved into a great little apartment complex with a more central location and a fantastic view.

It's been an adjustment cramming our lives into 980 square feet (our previous home was 1600 sf), but we're making it work.

Those of you who've been privy to my preparedness (or lack thereof) during other moves would have been impressed at how ready and on the ball I was. Note the above picture taken several days before the actual move. It's amazing how much less hectic moving is when you are only working one job.




While the move was stressfulf for Beckie and me, I think it was more stressful for our cats. During the actual moving day, they were locked in Jessica's old room together. We think they bonded.


This is as close as they ever get to each other. They never shared the sliding glass door at our old house!

Here's Beckie's cat, Max. As soon as we put this rug down, he plopped right down in the middle of it. "Finally, something that reminds me of home" he seemed to say.

My cat, Sagwa, paced around the new apartment for a couple of days until we uncovered a chair that had been in my room at the other house. In this case, familiarity breeds a good nap!

Top Ten Excuses for Not Blogging

Hello, my name is Angela and I am a blog neglector.

My blogging goal for 2008 was to publish at least one post a month and I was doing okay . . . until summer :( Since the beginning of June I haven't posted once. Shame on me.

Here are my top 10 excuses for not posting a blog in the last 2 1/2 months.

So what? I'm still a blog star!

(Singing heard earlier today coming from Angela's computer.)

"Na na na na na na na

na na na na na na

Na na na na na na na

na na na na na na"

"Guess I just lost my author

I don't know where she went.

So I'm gonna write my own post,

Use a few words to vent."

"I've gotta brand new attitude,

And I know I'll do alright.

Don't need her punctuation,

Or stories about her life!"

"So, So What?

I'm still a blog star!

I'll write my own posts,

And I don't need her!"

"And guess what?

I'm having more fun,

And now that we're done,

I'm gonna show her . . . "

(CLICK)

(Angela shuts her computer.)

Venting about Fording the River

Fording the River: A recipe for turning a 15 minute drive into 50.

1. Work 12 miles from where you live and have to cross a major river to get there and back.

2. Arrange a huge wreck, so large it completely shuts down 4 miles of the I-5 corridor for several hours.

3. Don't put out any signs telling drivers about viable alternate routes or lengths of wait times.

4. Don't have any local radio stations explain the situation or guide drivers to alternate routes.


Tonight I worked late.

Tomorrow is one of our busiest days of the summer and several of our operations staff members were staying late to prepare. I decided to stay with them and get caught up on some work. It was a productive and fun evening. Around 9:15 someone brought in pizza and we all took a break to eat and chat.

Around 10 pm people started leaving. The last of us walked out the door at 11 pm (I don't have to be back until 10 am, so it's not that bad). I walked a couple of blocks to my car and got on the road about 11:10 pm. I hopped on I-5, expecting it to be pretty empty in the middle of the night. It was . . . For about 3 miles and then I could see that traffic ahead was totally stopped. I was in the far left lane and had to fenagle my way across three lanes of traffic, but managed to get off at the last exit before I got trapped with the stopped cars.

This is my normal commute to and from work.


As I crossed over the freeway I looked north and saw lots of emrgency vehicle flashing lights. I figured there had been a wreck. At the next possible entrance I could see it was also blocked by police, so I took surface streets as far as I could before I knew I would have to get on I-5 to cross the Columbia River. But when I tried to get on I-5 at Delta Park, the last possible exit/entrance before water, I was dismayed to see the same flashing lights.

Now I was annoyed. How is it that something happened, significant enough to block off 4 miles of freeway, and O-DOT had posted no signs, no readerboards to tell me, the driver, that the Interstate Bridge, my link to my homeland, was completely blocked off and I could not get home that way? Because now I had wasted 15 minutes driving north northwest on surface streets when I could have been driving northeast and been to I-205 by then.




This was my convoluted commute home last night.


I'm also disappointed in one of my favorite radio stations. They are usually really good at giving traffic reports, especially when there is something unusual going on. But not one peep came over their airways: Not during the 20 more minutes of surface streets to get from Delta Park across town to I-205 nor even during the 15 minutes it took me to get home once I got on I-205.

I do realize there are worse things than taking an extra 35 minutes to ford the river and get home. In fact, some of you dear friends are dealing with hurts and situations far greater than my little rant. I just think that in today's age of technological saavy, something could have been done to avoid the extra 35 minutes, not to mention the extra miles and lower in-town mpg I put on my car--gas is $4.00 a gallon.

Thanks for reading anyway. Typing has helped me unwind the energy coil that was created on my 50 minute journey . . . I might actually be able to go to sleep now :)

Yep, I think I drifted off there . . . Good . . . Good night!

Pop Rocks and Fireworks!

I love spontaneous Friday evenings. I was ready to come home from work and spend the evening doing laundry and/or reading a good book, but my friend texted me on the way home to see if I wanted to go to Delta Cafe for dinner. And so began an evening full of fun and adventure.

Right now I'm sitting on my couch eating strawberry Pop Rocks!

These particular Pop Rocks were acquired at the beginning of my spontaneous evening. Sami and I tried to find something to buy at Fred Meyer to write a check for cash and avoid outrageous ATM fees. They are so worth the .50 cents I paid for them!

I love Pop Rocks! I love to feel them shoot off my tongue onto my teeth or the roof of my mouth, or to open my mouth and hear them popping around like Rice Krispys in a bowl of milk . . . it's like a mini fireworks show and you get to "taste the explosion."

After we left Fred Meyer we headed south to the Delta Cafe were we enjoyed the down home southern cooking, good sweet tea, and eclectic atmosphere for a reasonable price. I am a little horse from talking over the din of voices and music, but it's a small price to pay for good conversation with a fabulous friend.

And a trip to Delta just wouldn't be the same without walking a couple of blocks down the street to Bubble Bubble Tea. Bubble Tea is not for the faint of heart--a milky, chewy, lovely Taiwanese concoction that is probably an acquired taste, unless you're me, who fell in love with it the first time I ever tried it. However, tonight our experience at Bubble Bubble Tea was less than spectacular thanks to the slightly harried and odd cashier/bubble tea maker. Long story short, we'd only been there about 20 minutes when he cleared his throat and uncertainly bit out, "I'm closing my doors in 5 minutes" to a restaurant full of customers (most of whom had come in after us). We sat in stunned silence and looked at him for about 10 seconds before conversations continued as though he hadn't said anything. He responded by explaining himself to the air, "I've gotta close 10 minutes early tonight . . . I've been slammed . . . I've got . . . ." He trailed off and just looked around the room. We looked at the posted hours on the window, which clearly said they closed at 11 pm on Fridays (it was 9:45 pm) and giggled to ourselves that he must have had a rough day and be at his wits end. What else could cause such a break down?

But, his melt down was our gain. As we headed north on McLoughlin Blvd. we found ourselves driving straight toward the Fireworks show at the Rose Festival's Waterfront Village. And thanks to Sami's quick thinking and driving, instead of getting on I-5 North we pulled over on the side of the Morrison Bridge with many other onlookers and stood right under a spectacular fireworks show! It was beautiful and loud. I could feel each boom vibrating my chest as if I was in the front row at a rock concert.

Here's a picture of last year's Fireworks show . . . the bridge with the blueish-purple lights on it is the Morrison: the very bridge where we stood and watched this year's show. And off to the right you can see the bright lights of the Rose Festival Carnival shining out from behind the Tom McCall Waterfront Park trees, and above that the incredible Portland skyline. This picture captures everything I love about downtown Portland. Rose Festival season is Portland at it's best.

By the way, I was just reading the ingredients of Pop Rocks: 1) Sugar 2) Lactose (milk sugar) . . . Wait, what? Lactose? Hugh? I guess lactose intolerant people gotta be careful about the Pop Rock intake. Who knew?

P.S. I also bought Fun Dip . . . haven't cracked it open yet, but when I do I'm sure it'll be worth all .33 cents I paid for it and a successful end to the spontaneity of this Friday evening :)

The Birthday that keeps going and going and going!

The octopus on the top of Greek Cuisina in Portland, OR.

My 35th birthday was exactly a week ago, today. It started out like any other Thursday . . . going to work. I don't even think I saw my roommates in the morning. But then, around noon Jess came to work and brought me some beautiful peachy colored roses and cookies to share with the office. And it only got better from there.

My roommates and I gathered with some friends from church to go to dinner at Greek Cuisina in downtown Portland. It was really good food and even better company.



My yummy roasted lamb all rolled up in philodough with great veggies.

Kalamari is one of my favorite things! But this picture was really to gross out the other people at our table :)

Beckie and I at dinner.

Pretty flowers at our table.

Beckie, Me, and Lori.

David, Kailina, and Jess

After dinner we headed over to Rimska's Korska Koffee House. It was an interesting and fun experience, as the pics show. We were seated at this round table, one of the largest they have. We ordered desserts and hot tea or cocoa. The restaurant itself is in an old house and if you don't know what you're looking for you'll probably miss it. The decorating is eclectic and fun.

My roomies and me at Rimsky's. I'm drinking my Earl Grey and waiting for my frozen Lemon Pie, which never came :(

Our creepy rotating table . . . until we realized it has a motor we couldn't figure out why our food kept floating away.

Kailina, who'd been to Rimsky's before, told us we all needed to check out the restroom.

This is the picture that greets you ask you open the door. The lady of shatolietpaper?

And this is the unsettling scene in the rest of the bathroom. Did I mention it was creepy?

And this is the funky ceiling. Not so much creepy as kind of cool.

Did I say my Frozen Lemon Pie never came? Well, actually, when we asked the waitress to remove it from the bill because I didn't get it, she was horrified!

She apologized profusely for forgetting the Birthday girl's dessert and gave it to me for free.

Here's her apology via the ticket. It originally said, "Happy middle of Winter Birthday." After she realized she forgot my dessert, she changed it to "Happy middle of the Winter Bad Waitress Birthday."



And that was the end of the Thursday night festivities, but my sister Christi came over on Friday night and we celebrated again! We went to dinner at McMenamins on the Columbia and then on to the Hazell Dell Bowling Alley for Karaoke, which came highly recommended by my friend Sami. It was fun and a little crazy. As you can probably tell from the pictures, the Bowling Alley Lounge is a bit of a dive. But it was a friendly crowd of regulars that all turned their head to look at us when we walked in.

We started off the night with Christi and I singing "Total Eclipse of the Heart." And then nothing for a long time. The Karaoke guy kept trying to get us up there and finally he made all of us get up and sing a song with him. This seemed to do the trick.

Soon after the first group sing, Beckie got up and rocked Sugerland's "Baby Girl."

Then Jess knocked out the Dixie Chick's "Ready to Run."

And Christi got down to Carole King's "I Feel the Earth Move."

Beckie and our friend Beth perusing the Karaoke books.

Beth (who was a voice major in college) wowed us all with "God Bless the USA" . . . way better than the girl on American Idol!

Me singing Carly Simon's "You're so Vain" . . . who knew there's a line in that song that says "you're with some underworld spy". What?

And my birthday weekend continued when Christi and I flew out for Las Vegas the next day . . . but that is a subject for another blog post :)