Frequency = fed up

Do boys have some sort of sonar that indicates just when a girl is getting fed up? Tell me, how do males inherently know when it's time to make a phone call? Is there some sort of bat signal that indicates a heart is hardening, and that's when you dial and say something cute?

I'm guessing voicemail is a sure sign that either (a) girl has gotten a life; or (b) girl is screening your calls. And, should she be so inclined to ignore you, must you tell her that you were just thinking about her? Were you really? Because my guess is, you simply knew she took your photo off the fridge after flipping it off. You somehow figured out that, after three days of willing the phone to ring, she finally gave up and left it in the other room while working off her anger on the treadmill. Looking good is the best revenge after all.

Girl is so not calling him back. I don't care how cute his message was.

Joy and pain

It's official. I cursed myself. After bragging about my fitness prowess, I totally pulled a muscle in my back. I did nothing all weekend except pop pain pills, rub biofreeze on my shoulder, and lie motionless. The good news is that I finally cleared off my DVR. The bad news is that my 5K training has come to a screeching halt. Not that it was going so well in the first place...

It snowed all day yesterday. Big, beautiful flakes of snow. This morning? Not a trace.

I did manage to take a shower and head to church this morning, even though I had to go to the late service since I overslept. But I'm really glad I went. The church I attend does a lot of worship choruses and new songs, so it's rare for us to sing a hymn. I suppose it's just as well since a lot of those songs I know so well that I start to sing them absently, not paying attention to the lyrics. But this morning we did "Blessed Assurance," and it was like I was hearing the song for the first time (granted, there was an accordion, so perhaps that was the difference?). What a blessing... for I am sure that Jesus is mine.

We've been studying the book of I Thessalonians for a couple of months. This morning the pastor talked about the difference between happiness and joy. God never promised us a lifetime of happiness. But He did promise us joy in Him. We can't always praise Him for the circumstance, but we can praise Him in it. Even when it's hard.

This was a really random post. I'm blaming the pain pills.

My loss

I have to admit, I've gotten a bit obsessive about working out. I'm far from loving the actual act of exercise, but I love what it's doing to my body. Last week I uncovered my ab muscles. Not since Columbus has a discovery been so surprising and yet major. So that's what was under all the fat for all those years...

Last summer I had all but given up on looking good. Yeah, I still paid $25 for a hair cut, but I didn't care if I had a tan since covering up my fat was a full-time job. I couldn't walk a flight of stairs without getting winded and my jeans gave me gas, but I had just passed my 35th birthday and found that Oreos taste great and exercise sucks.

Then I met the boy, and I was so mad at myself for having poor self-esteem because of the way that I looked. So I took the clothes off the treadmill and started to walk. And now, seven months later, I'm 30 pounds lighter and two sizes smaller. Not to mention more confident. It's sad that it took a man to motivate me, but even if that boy never becomes my manfriend, he got me off my butt and taking better care of myself. I feel better. I look better (heck, even the girls are noticing!). And I'll probably live longer.

I heard last weekend that NutriSystems paid Larry the Cable Guy a million bucks to lose 50 pounds. Where do I sign up? Git-r-done indeed.

Sugar... oh, honey, honey

Taylor and Chance have planned for months to spend Spring Break with me. So I went to the world's largest retailer after church on Sunday to procure $75 of sugary snacks.

Since I'm working from home this week I discovered that my home office is way too close to the kitchen. I spent Monday afternoon chowing on cookies and Doritos and chugging Diet Coke. Taylor got a better offer last night to spend a few days with some friends in Branson, so the boys decided not to come to Siloam. I got stuck with fattening snacks.

Thankfully I had a luncheon in the Fort today, so I loaded up the honey buns, spaghettios, chocolate chip cakes, reece's puffs, ranch Doritos, trix and code red mountain dew and took them to Brad's. An empty pantry equals an easy diet.

Tomorrow is day two of working from home, but without the distracting snacks.

The most exciting part of my day? I found an awesome pink polka dot ironing board cover at JT Maxx. Every chick needs one of those, right?

Just call me Katy Perry

Granted, I haven't divulged too many details about the birthday party from last weekend (and the ones I did share I deleted), but the most scandalous thing that happened that night didn't involve LB, or any boy. It was a first for me, most assuredly.

So when I got an email from LB around 8 a.m. this morning and I replied, "Your party will heretofore be known as the first and only time I've been propositioned by a woman," I was surprised by his lack of response. The two or three other people I've told certainly called immediately for the juicy details. This boy? Nothing.

Until a few moments ago, when he called to find out more. Evidently he's been thinking about that for 12 hours or so.

Why are straight men so fascinated by the girl on girl? Can someone please explain this phenomenon? I just don't get it.

(I said no, in case you were wondering. I didn't kiss a girl.)

Happy birthday, Fat Sugar!

Five years ago today this precious boy joined our family. Happy birthday, Peyton!

My bowl runneth over

Next week is spring break which generally means nothing to those of us on college campuses who are not on faculty, but they've decided to bury the phone, internet and electrical lines that lead to our office next week, which means several days with no computer network or phones. But thankfully, due to the miracle of technology, I can work from home. Yes, I will still have to get up early, but at least I won't have to shower or change out of my PJs.

It could just be a coincidence, but they have already started digging trenches to our office, and yesterday we had a little flood. It started in my bathroom right after I left for a doctor's appointment, and continued for more than two hours before anyone discovered it. So the poor night crew had to clear out my shelves, my storage closet, and anything else near the floor to clean up the mess. Gross.

Tomorrow I have to be in Rogers at 6 a.m. for a breakfast, but thankfully my sweet friend Kelly is allowing me to crash at her house for the second Thursday evening in a row. Now I'll just have to get up at 5 a.m. instead of 4 a.m. The good news is that I'm taking some time off tomorrow afternoon to prepare for the big birthday surprise party extravaganza tomorrow night. What kind of person starts a party at 9 p.m.?

Probably a better kind of person than the kind who tells the guest of honor about said event. Oops! He's promised to act surprised. (In my defense, he wasn't buying the story and wasn't going to dinner at all. I'm not that big of a jerk. Plus, I didn't want him to believe the hype that this hoopla is of my doing. Laid-back dinner = my idea. Party for 25 people he barely knows = not my idea.)

Not to get philosophical, but I've been thinking a lot today about my friend/crush, the birthday boy. My morning quiet time was about Romans 8:28, which I know was not a coincidence. I'm trying to be open to God's plan in all of this. Then, this afternoon, my pal Estella sent me an email that said, "God doesn't give you the people you want, He gives you the people you NEED - To help you, to hurt you, to leave you, to love you and to make you into the person you were meant to be."

I've heard that silversmiths can tell when a piece of metal is ready when they can see their reflection in it. I'm far from a great reflection of Christ, but hopefully I'm open to the polishing.

Check mate

In the words of the great Kelly Kapoor, "He's the most complicated man I have ever met. I mean, who says exactly what they're thinking? What kind of game is this?"

We women spend so much time playing games that we don't understand men who don't. We may not say what we mean, but men often do. Let's face it, between scratching, channel surfing and baseball stat memorizing, there's not enough brain matter left to figure out how to be cool.

Today's e-mail from LB: "I really appreciate your friendship. You are a great friend and I value that."

Hmmm... do you think perhaps he just wants to be friends?

Longer, leaner, stronger

Warning: infomercial ahead.

My quest for weight loss has been discussed on this blog almost as much as my quest for love. And we all know what a roaring success that has been.

I've never had kids, but I struggle with a tummy. Always have. And, like most women, I would like to have smaller thighs, a firmer butt, and better arm definition.

Enter yoga. I was skeptical, but it totally works. Seriously.

Two weeks ago I found a DVD on sale and bought it, and it's amazing. The mirror is no longer my enemy.

Yeah, I won't be posing in a bikini anytime soon, but it's really working. It sucks for 40 minutes, but if my jeans fit better, it will totally be worth it.

Besides, it keeps my mind off LB out on a date. Sorta.

I really care about you, now I must throw up

Having reread last evening's melodramtic post, I feel compelled to write an addendum. Granted, all of the details were true, but you must be aware that it's merely part of the story. Some of what happens between a girl and a boy, friends or something more, is a sacred trust that must be protected from the blogosphere.

That said, let me say thanks to all of you for your supportive phone calls, texts and e-mails (hooray, technology!). No, things didn't exactly work out according to plan, but I'm not sad. At least not about that.

Sometimes, the "yes or no" boxes on the love note must remain unchecked. Instead, you end up with a relationship that, although not exactly defined, emerges stronger than most every other relationship you've ever had.

Sometimes you must allow God to do His work, in His time, know that you're in someone's life for a reason, and that all things work together for His good, even when you can't see it.

Because, after all, truly caring about someone means putting their needs first, even if you have to ignore your own. At least for now.

I hope you dance

Given my propensity to write my feelings rather than speak them (hence the blog obsession), I suppose it should come as no surprise that, after seven months of back and forth with LB, I decided to profess my affection via a cleverly worded and kitschy card. Thus "top 10 reasons why I think you're awesome" was penned and transcribed into Hallmark's finest.

I'm not quite sure why the greeting card folks don't develop a new genre. Somehow neither "thanks for being my friend" nor "I will always love you" seemed quite right to commemorate the birthday of my friend/crush. I couldn't find a "it's been seven months, grow a pair" card, so I settled for Amanda's suggestion, a cute little pic of a little boy and girl holding corn dogs at a carnival (no Freudian comments here) with the tagline, "You're my favorite amusement" and the simple inside sentiment of "happy birthday."

But that didn't seem personal enough, so I added my own little list, complete with special memories from the past seven months. Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Total Jim and Pam teapot moment here. The first nine of 'em were sarcastic, but #1 was "Because, let's face it, you're hot."

Let's just say that dinner was interesting. Our friendship went up about fourteen levels due to some serious soul baring. By both of us. I'm pretty sure the waiter thought one of us is dying.

The bad news is that LB has a date tomorrow night. With a girl that he met after I left last week (the night I wouldn't dance with him). But in a bold and potentially idiotic move, I gave him the card anyway. I handed it to him (along with his gift), told him to read it in the spirit in which it was intended, and drove away. And he hasn't called, which means he's mulling it over.

Damn you, Jim Halpert.

Cross your fingers

In exactly one hour, I'm meeting LB for a birthday dinner. There's some pretty pointed things in the card, and I don't know how he'll react, but either way, it's been seven months and I'm ready for some answers. I may be in trouble, but oh well.

He said/she said

After more than 20 years of dating (oh, I'm so very tired of dating), I'm not any closer to cracking the guy code. Sure, the prophetic authors of "He's Just Not That Into You" would have us believe that boys are, in fact, not that complicated, and they often say and do exactly what they mean. But if it's so obvious, why did those jokers make millions by simply stating it?

Because at the end of the day, we're tired of dissecting every comment, every glance, and every strategy. I mean, I consider myself a pretty gifted conversationalist. I have a vast vocabulary, especially for Arkansas. I can engage in witty banter with the best of them, and am usually quick with the clever, thoughtful comebacks. Flirting should be easy for me, right?

Not so much these days. While most boys probably can be played on a novice level, occasionally one comes along who defies logic, who must be played on the advanced level. That requires concentration, and much practice.

This probably would be easier had I picked out a boy who doesn't get paid $175 an hour to form arguments and figure out loopholes. I never had this issue when I was dating mechanics and college dropouts.

Now my life is filled with deciphering comments and wishing I'd said something else. I spend my days with the expression of a cow looking at a new gate, attempting to be clever and falling far short.

Guys, you should know that we girls are, in fact, pretty passive aggressive. We've been known to confuse you with conversation and trap you with hypothetical situations. Most of you don't see it coming until you're in trouble. Measure your words, boys, because we certainly are. And now it's coming back to haunt me.

A few months ago I asked the boy if he'd ever dated someone he thought was incredible but he just wasn't attracted to. His response? "No, if I think a girl's incredible, I'm going to be attracted to her." Um, what does that mean? This guy is a conversational wizard! No amount of man trapping has snared him. He talks in circles and makes me dizzy.

This week we had the following conversation:

LB: You know, I'm really bad at this dating thing.
ME: Hmm...
LB: You know what my friends say about me?
ME: That you're really bad at flirting?
LB: Um, no. WHAT? Anyway, they say that I don't pick up on signals very well. That I can't tell when a girl is into me...
ME: I can see that about you.
LB: So, Lori, how do I know when a girl is interested in me?
ME: (Swallowing my tongue, thinking I'd like to slather him on toast like butter) Do you know why you're like that? Why you don't take the chance?
LB: Why?
ME: Because, it sucks when you're wrong.

Ugh. I'm such a moron. And then yesterday, the following happened:

LB: Guess what I'm doing tonight...
ME: (Here it comes, he's going on a date) No idea.
LB: Going to a charity thing.
ME: Hmmm.... (wondering what hot, skinny girl he's getting dressed up for).
LB: Well, my office is going, and I'm the only guy without a wife or a date. They always walk into my office and want to know if I'm going alone and I always say yes. I never have anyone to take.

(Yes, I know what you're thinking... perfect opportunity, right?)

What I should've said: I have no plans later and I can squeeze myself into a cocktail dress.
What I actually said: ( NOTHING. Seriously.)

I'm thinking I probably need a lobotomy soon.

Ah, boys

Dear Boy,

Please stop being so confusing. If you've found someone else to date, please don't continue to call me every day. We're not that good of friends.

Please stop being so charming. Do not ask me to slow dance in the middle of a crowded restaurant. Yes, it's romantic, but friends do not do romance.

Please don't call me beautiful. It makes me weak. It makes me confused. And yes, it makes me mad.

If you want to date me, ask me. If you want to date someone else, leave me alone.

Sincerely,
The Chick

Such the smitten kitten

Ok, Jen, the smitten story...

Only it's not so much a story as an update. About a boy who called me three days in a row. For no reason. While he was with his friends. On a weekend.

I really can't tell you the last time I had a crush this big. But he's just so cute with his corny lines and sexy accent. I am in so much trouble.

Ah, boys. Why for art thou so complicated?

Springing forward

I don't know about you guys, but I am NOT happy about this spring forward business. Granted, I know I'll love it once I get used to it. I do dig it being light outside until 8 o'clock. But I hate it being dark when I wake up an hour earlier than usual.

Today was filled with doing reports, going to meetings, and playing catch up. The best part was that my pal Kelly came through Siloam, so I got to see her for a few minutes for coffee and to visit (Hi, Kel... sorry about all the boy talk!).

Arkansas, not Australia

I spent the past four days driving across northern Arkansas. I had a great time in Mountain Home, relaxing and cooking. Melbourne was a different story. The Hornets made it to the state semifinals yesterday before getting beat in OT by the home team. There were some bad calls, but we had our chances and didn't take advantage of them. Taylor played great, and I'm really proud of him. The great news is that they are a team of juniors who are now hungry to come back next year and win the whole thing. All in all, 33-2 isn't a bad year.

On Friday morning I had a massage, followed by a nap, lunch, and shopping. Friday evening we met some of Chris and Estella's friends at the country club for a three-hour meal of prime rib, tiramisu and lots of talking. Yesterday Estella taught me how to make eggs benedict florentine for brunch, then I went to the game. Last night we made shrimp and grits for dinner, then saw "Taken" at the theatre (four stars... intense, but very good).

Now I'm back in Siloam, doing laundry and getting ready for a busy week. And still feeling smitten, but that's another story.

Running on faith

A few months ago I had this grand idea that Jen and I should do the Race for the Cure 5K in Waco in April. Jen's been running about 10 miles a day for months, but I needed some motivation and a deadline to finally conquer my New Year's resolution of running a 5K. I'm not trying to finish in 20 minutes or anything... just run it all, no matter how long it takes. Yesterday I realized that I have about six weeks to get ready. I've yet to run more than a quarter of a mile or so without stopping to walk for a bit before running a few more steps. Six weeks, people.

My pal Sorne told me once that the key to increasing your distance is just to force yourself past the point when you want to quit, hit your stride, and you'll be fine. Famous last words. But last night, getting fearful of failure yet again (and therefore being made fun of by Lonnie for another year), I decided it was time to suck it up and press on.

The good news is that I made it two miles. The better news is that I actually felt fine this morning. Minor shin splints, but that could have been from the fabulous four-inch BCBGirls stilettos I wore today. With pointed toes. Very sexy.

As Forrest Gump said, "I just felt like running."

Oh, and as of this morning... 25 pounds lost. Yay me!

(PS... I'm headed to Melbourne via Mountain Home tomorrow for the state basketball tournament, so my updates may be sporadic. Hooray for four-day weekends!)

More good news...

Taylor's team won their game today. One game down in the state tournament, three to go! Woo-hoo!

Puppy love

Those of us with older brothers know what it's like to have a crush on one of his friends. I remember trying to impress Brad's friends while growing up. They usually ignored me.

Hope has a colossal-sized crush on her brother's friend Blake. I don't know if she realizes that Taylor even plays basketball. For her, they're Blake's games. How many five year olds have their sights set on a 17-year-old? She's like the Anna Nicole Smith of the preschool set.

Here's her face paint for the game last night.



I'm happy to report that the Hornets were victorious in the finals of the regional tournament (three years in a row!). And after the game, the leading scorer didn't hug his mom or a girl his own age, but the cute little girl with the big ol' crush.