A Lesson About Stuff

Five months.

Five months we've waited for this day. Moving day.

We bought the house in June and then ripped it apart. Basically. Mostly. Messily.

We've had dozens of workmen crawling over every inch of the house - electricians, sheet rockers, painters, tilers, carpet layers - like ants scurrying over an ant hill.

Moving day kept getting pushed back. The granite is delayed. The painters can't paint until the tiler is done. The tiler can't get done until the electrician is done. You know how it is - everything has to be done at the precise time, in the precise order, or it doesn't get done.

November 11 is finally set to be "THE" day - moving day. Arrangements are made with the movers - the boxes are packed - and we can hardly sleep the night of November 10th because our minds are racing. The movers are scheduled to arrive at 8:00 am - and the Drama Queen will be handling this move by herself because hubby is going to work.

And then - November 11 arrives with a phone call at 5:30 am. The Red Cross. There's a major apartment fire.

Are you kidding me?!

I've blogged about it before. Unfortunately, we can't schedule disasters. We don't get to plan ahead and put them on our calendars. And such is the life of a Red Cross volunteer.

At first I said no. How could I possibly go assist the families when the movers were coming at 8:00 am?

And then - a thought. All I was dealing with, was stuff. How could I possibly put my stuff ahead of people who just lost all of their stuff in the fire....? Because that's all it is, when you get down to it. It's stuff. My stuff is all packed in nice, taped, cardboard boxes. Labeled. Organized. Ready to move.

The families who lived in the apartment? Their stuff is gone. Burnt to ashes. History. Poof.

I called hubby. He totally understood. He rushed home to be with the movers so that I could go assist the families.

I think I made the right decision. Shouldn't people always be more important than stuff? I had just blogged about it yesterday - and so this was a chance to put my words into action and do the right thing.

I hope I did.

Peace.

What My Guatemalan Kids Have Taught Me

Our family with our Guatemala kids in 2007

I got letters yesterday from my two kids who live in Guatemala.

My “son,” Zacarias, lives in a small village called Nueva Providencia and is in 6th grade. I met him in 2005 and fell in love. Very quiet, very shy – but oh, so sweet. Hubby and I talked a long time and decided to sponsor him through CFCA, Christian Foundation for Children and Aging (www.cfcausa.org.)

We get pictures and photos every now and then, and yesterday’s letter said simply, “…I’m excited because Christmas is coming soon and my family and I will celebrate drinking fruit punch and eating tamales.”

My “daughter,” Dalila lives in the same village as Zacarias. She is a dead ringer for “Dora the Explorer” – a beautiful 6-year old little girl who loves dolls. We met her in 2005, and decided to sponsor her, as well. Her letter yesterday said, “Dalila helps to decorate the Nativity Scene and she loves to hear the birds singing and she loves to watch the stars shine at home.”

I love these kids. I wish I could do more than just sponsor them. I wish I could just scoop them up, along with their families, and transport them here to my home in the United States. I wish I could give them a beautiful home instead of the shack they live in; I wish I could send them to an awesome school like the ones my own kids go to, rather than the dilapidated one they go to now. I wish I could clothe them in designer clothes and feed them exotic foods and take them to Disney World and Sesame Street Live and buy them their own Wii and iPod and every video game they want.

I wish.

And then I thank God that He brought these children into my life. They have taught me so much. They have taught me what is important in life; they’ve taught me that – when it all comes down to it – it’s about faith, family and our friends. THAT is what is important.

It’s not important what house we live in – or what school we go to – or what clothes we put on our bodies – or what entertainment we seek out. It’s not the stuff we surround ourselves with, or the toys we play with.

It’s about praising God, loving our family, and appreciating our friends.

God bless you, Zacarias and Dalila – thank you for keeping me real and reminding me what it’s all about, especially during this season of Thanksgiving.

Peace.

Dial M for Murder

Dear readers: the story you are about to read is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent, which in this case, is not me. But you’ll see why.
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Monday, November 2: 9:00 am Telephone rings – Caller ID says, “Card Services.”

Me: Hello?
Lady: Is (hubby) there?
Me: No, he’s not. I’m his wife. May I help you?
Lady: We’re trying to contact him about some wonderful Identify Theft services that we offer on your MasterCard. When’s the best time to reach him?
Me: He works during the day….evening is best. ☺
Lady: Okay! Thank you! ☺


Tuesday, November 3: 9:00 am Telephone rings – Caller ID says, “Card Services.”

Me: Hello?
Lady: Is (hubby) there?
Me: No, he’s not. I told you yesterday that he’s not home during the day. You need to call him at night. He’s at work right now.
Lady: Oh – okay! Thank you! ☺


Wednesday, November 4: 9:00 am Telephone rings – Caller ID says, “Card Services.”

Me: Hello!!
Lady: Is (hubby) there?
Me: NO! Look – I’ve told you – he’s NOT HERE during the day! Quit calling during the day! You’re wasting your time! Please! Put it in your records to only call at night!
Lady: Oh, I’m sorry. Okay! Thank you! ☺


Thursday, November 5: 9:00 am Telephone rings – Caller ID says, “Card Services.”
Me: He’s NOT HERE! I’ve told you every day this week that he’s not here! Why do you keep calling during the day?!??! He WORKS!! You have to call at night!!!!
Lady: Okay! Thank you! ☺


Friday, November 6: 9:00 am Telephone rings – Caller ID says, “Card Services.”

Me: ARGH! Why do you keep calling during the day! FIVE times this week you’ve called, and FIVE times this week I’ve said he’s not here! How many more times do I need to tell you to quit calling during the day?!!! Enough already! Stop it!
Lady: But we have some great Identity Theft services we’d like to discuss with him. ☺
Me: I’ll tell you what to do with your FREAKIN’ identity services if you don’t quit calling during the day! HE’S NOT HERE!
Lady: I’m so sorry! Thank you! ☺


Weekend passes – all is Quiet on the Western Front. Drama Queen forgets all about the Card Services Stalker Lady.


Monday, November 9th: 9:00 am Telephone rings – Caller ID says, “Card Services.”

Me: THAT’S IT! I’ve had enough! We DON’T want your Identity Theft services because you guys are idiots that can’t seem to listen when someone tells you something! How do you expect to protect our identity when you can’t even make a simple note in your records to QUIT calling during the day!!!! This is the SIXTH time I’ve told you now in the last WEEK!!!!
Lady: But our services are great and…
Me: (interrupting) I DON’T WANT THEM! Quit calling!
Lady: When would be a better time to call? ☺
Me: AAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCKKKKKKKK!


Tuesday, November 10: Newspaper Headline:

“Drama Queen Charged With Homicide After Reaching Through the Phone Line and Strangling Identity Theft Services Lady on the Other End.”

But it was SO justified.

Peace.

Sunday Night Panic Attack

Do you ever do something so stupid that even you can’t believe it? I mean, really, really stupid? Incredibly stupid? Heart attack-inducing stupid?

I did that last night.

And it drives me freakin’ NUTS when I do stupid things, because, I’m a Queen, after all, and Queens are supposed to be like, perfect. At least in my distorted view of the world.

Wanna’ hear what I did? Sure you do. Everyone wants to hear the stupid stuff that other people do because then it makes them feel all smart and stuff.

So here’s what I did.

First – background.

I travel. A lot. Some of it is vacation, some of it is with the American Red Cross, and most of it is through mission trips. I have two mission trips coming up – Jamaica in January, and Belize in February.

Recently, the Belize trip coordinator asked for some paperwork, including a copy of my passport. I put all my completed paperwork & passport in a beautiful red folder marked “Belize” (I’m very organized!) and whipped up to church last week where I turned over the contents of the folder and had a copy of my passport made. That trip is bagged and tagged now – ready to go. One down, one to go.

Last night, the Jamaica coordinator contacted me and said she needs my paperwork for HER trip, including a copy of my passport. I go to get my passport in its usual spot – and it’s a nice, organized spot – due to my OCD and all - and guess what?!

It’s not there. Okay…where is it? Hmmmm…..let me think……The last I had seen that darn passport, it was in the red Belize folder when I came home from church last week.

Okay – where’s the red Belize folder?

And then….I remembered….I had thrown that stupid red Belize folder away. I thought it was EMPTY!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My passport is somewhere in the TRASH!!!!!!!

Okay – breathe. Breathe in, breathe out. Think. It’s 9:00 pm Sunday night. Trash is picked up at 7:00 am Monday morning. I have 10 hours to find that stupid, stupid red folder – and my beloved passport. I can do this. Maybe. But it’s in the TRASH! Which means it could be really gross and icky and slimy!!!! Ewwwww!!!

With my eyes bugging out of my head, my heart racing at 100 miles an hour, and a moan of despair that could be heard throughout the land, I went racing to the garage, screaming at hubby that “I HAVE TO FIND MY PASSPORT!!!! IT’S IN THE TRASH!!!”

Now – let me say – we are in the process of moving. Therefore, we have been doing a lot of packing. I don’t like packing. To me, it’s easier to just toss stuff. So – we have a LOT of trash.

I look at the piles of trash bags in front of me – where to begin?! This is seriously like a freakin’ episode of “The Amazing Race” – only its REAL LIFE and it’s not funny, people! I’m hyperventilating and sweating and trying not to panic. Snort. Okay – honestly? I’m in full panic mode by now.

Hubby has no sympathy for me whatsoever at this point. He thinks I throw things away too quickly – and so now this is a golden “I told you so!” moment for him. He calmly suggests that maybe I should go check my purse before I have a stroke in the garage.

“It’s not IN my purse!!!! It’s in the RED FOLDER!!! OH MY GOD, HELP ME!” I scream in despair. But to make him happy – and to prove him wrong– I go look in my purse.

Guess what I found?

Dammit – I hate it when hubby is right. But at least it wasn’t icky.

Now you know why “Drama” is in front of the “Queen.”

Peace.