to find beauty

Why My Husband Is Awesome And Candy Crush is Evil

 

We had just turned out the lights, and were getting cozy in bed and I disturbed it all by grabbing my phone.

"No, no more games," my husband pleaded.

"Just one more, I gotta pass it!" I pleaded back. It's a curse, I tell you. The Candy Crush curse called Level 147. I've played it countless times since the end of July. More time has been spent manipulating those little bombs and hard jellies, than any good Christian woman would like to confess... or should confess, really.

A lot. Too many. Oh, its a sickness.

A couple weeks ago, I decided to google "Candy Crush Level 147 cheats." Anything to help! I had made the committment in mid-August to spend NOT another cent on any game. I deleted all my cards from my Google Wallet (to remove temptation), and its been me and the game. Solo. 

I needed to cheat. I needed help!

But people, I looked up and read all the tips and posts. I even watched some of the videos where people finished the level, proving two things: 1. it is possible 2. people are braggers.

Generally, all the  advice is to focus on the center column (check), watch out for bombs (check), use the special striped candies and the sprinkle donut (or whatever it is called) when available (check and check.) I learned about hitting the go-back button on my phone if the screen isn't to my liking, so the candies would reset. Other advice has you work from the bottom, or the sides, or just all over with your eyes-crossed while wearing a sombrero. Either way, its 50 moves of torture.

The tips weren't much help. I am still in Level 147 hell. And now I am writing about it. In public. Stop the madness!

So, last night when playing "just one more game," I asked my husband if he would pray for me. I think he thought for my sanity. 

But no, I was dead-serious. "Honey, will you pray that God will help me pass this level."

My husband is a great guy, and he loves me and Jesus a whole bunch. But even I wasn't sure if he would. Maybe he would tell me to delete the game? Ack! Not conquer it? Never!

But he did pray for me. And boy did he. He prayed so well, I just knew I would pass the game. It's not like I expected much. It's a game, but God is sovereign over ALL! That certainly includes time-sucker distractions like Candy Crush!

Alas, I am still trying. I know one day, I will proudly and loudly cheer and write on my Facebook "I DID IT! I PASSED LEVEL 147!" and people will shout hip-hip-horay and cry and congratulate. A banner will be flown above me: "You did it! You are awesome!"

I am never, ever overdramatic. But I do feel a little better now, and my lives have re-filled.

Thanks for letting me vent.

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Candy Crush

the long-winded version* of how we met (the teaser continues!)

I've said and done a lot of crazy things in my lifetime. Hasn't everyone? One thing I have said, perhaps flippantly at the time, is: "darn it all if I meet the man of my dreams at the grocery store or some normal way after the years and pains I have gone through to meet someone online... I will be really mad!"

(Because you know, it's all up to us...)

Okay, so maybe, just maybe, that wasn't said so flippantly.  Maybe it was said with a lot of passion and frustration after yet another disappointing dating experience or as a pathetic attempt to defend my history of meeting-men-tactics via the world wide web.

There was "Michigan" whom was met an AIM, oh, 8 or so years ago. Who actually flew across the country to meet me- how many girls can say that? He was a good guy. We just had a continent between us.

And some random yahoo personnels and match.com guys I met while attending OSU or shortly after I left in 2004. These experiences are only "good" because of the lessons I learned (I'd share some, but I am still a little embarassed at my foolishness) and the experience of singing in a garage punk band (which was awesome.) **

Then, there was eharmony. Oh, eharmony... Which to this day, makes me want to cry a little and feel ever-so-slightly bitter. Not that people can't find good men and women on it, but for me... well, I met two guys (that I want to count) and both taught me a lot about expectations and experiencing disapppointment. They weren't bad guys, though the second inspired me to go to counseling (which was a very good thing) and the first inspired me and a friend to skip the country. (Really).

After the rejection from Eharmony Boy #1 and #2, where else was I to go? Enter: Craigslist. Yes, for real. After the let down from this guy who ended up lying about his age (and who knows what else), I was stuck. There was a hole in my heart I was trying desperately to fill... and fill fast. I regularly perused the ads, hoping and searching for someone special.

Which resulted in me, last August, sitting in my bedroom crying, NO BAWLING, to my friend Joy over the telephone. I had just spent a half-hour or so reading through another batch of Craigslist ads and I finally had enough! I needed to confess to my friend what I had been doing and how I was feeling: completely worthless and rejected.

And really stupid. (I hate feeling stupid.)

You see, I loved God, which x-ed out all the athiests/non-Christians. I wasn't looking for sex, so this limited me from the many men who just wanted some girl to sleep with them. I am also not a thin, athletic gal, so as soon as one of them typed, "sorry girls, I don't want to be a jerk but no BBWs" I felt rejected again. Even though I knew better than to judge myself with these worldy standards... I felt hopeless that a really good guy would like ever me, so I considered settling for less. (Wow, thats weird to admit.)

I cried on the phone to my friend that there must be something wrong with me... that I must be too fat, too ugly, too goody-goody for anyone to ever date me and make me feel special.

Really. I was in a bad place.

Of course, she listened and told me I was being too hard on myself. And, of course, she told me to stop reading the ads. She said all the right, wonderful things a good friend should say. She reminded me I was looking for acceptance from the world, and I should be focused on the amazing love God has for me. That He accepted me, loved me, found me worthy. And I kept crying because it felt good to get it all out in the open... even if I didn't know what I'd do next. I knew she was right. I let myself be fooled. I believed the lies that the Enemy was feeding me through these ads.

I talked to my counselor about it, and he gave me an assignment. An assignment which may sound a little weird, but it really helped me. He told me to go back to the Craigslist ads (I wonder if this is akin to sending a recovering alcoholic to a bar?) and read them again. Really. But this time read them with new eyes. Ask myself if these guys are worthy of me. Ask myself if these guys love the Lord, if they fit the standards I set for myself long ago. Ask myself if I really liked them. Ask myself if they were good enough for me not if I was good enough for them.

I prayed about it a lot. And then I did it: I read through the ads with my new Godly-chic glasses on.

Wow. What was I thinking? As I read through the ads, I felt the dirtiness and the shame of believing these guys had something I wanted and for letting them make me feel less than what God created me to be: lovely.  

Between my friend's words and the experience re-reading the ads, it was like a lightbulb went off in my head and I realized that I had given these nameless, clueless guys too much power in my life.  What was I thinking? Furthermore, I realized I felt sorry for these guys. They were missing out on something really special, even if they had no idea. Not just me (hehe), but they were missing out on a true love relationship with Jesus Christ. As I read through the ads, I rejected them and their worldly ideas for happiness and worthiness.

I felt empowered.

Now, that doesn't mean I never read/responded to an ad ever again. Honestly, I had a light bulb moment... I didn't change my spots completely.  Actually, I rarely ever responded to an ad in the first place, I mostly just read them and let the words alone reject me. The difference now was: I kept my Godly-chic glasses on.

And, honestly, eventually I just stopped bothering to look at all.

I spent the past year- my 28th year- not focused on dating (though it was always in the back of my mind) but on achieving some big goals in my life and appreciating my singleness. I went back to school. I worked hard at my job and got a really awesome review. I tried some new ministry opportunities. I met new people and developed great new friendships. I felt heartache through some difficult friendship troubles. And through all of it and more, God has been by my side. Even when He felt distant, I knew He was there. 

Then, it happened. I had just finished my last final for Spring term at OSU, and my long-time, good friend Steve and I had made plans to celebrate. It was the first time we had hung out in a long time, and I was quickly reminded of how wonderful it was to spend time with a neat Christian guy (he is an awesome man of God) and, really, the evening was fairly romantic, even though it was entirely platonic. (For the record, Steve is now dating my friend Tessa, so don't be getting any false ideas.) We walked along the beach and talked about God and the church and there were real fireworks- like real ones!

Inspired and reminded that I was created for relationship with a nice, Christian man (and I didn't want to be hiding out forever)... I took a peek and read through some CL ads. (I know, why I looked at the old fishing spot when I should have learned by then to fish in prettier waters... I just don't know.)  

But then I read his. 

Now, I wish I had saved a copy of his ad... (Hopefully he has it somewhere?) Something about his ad was different. I remember he mentioned he was looking for someone to share ministry with. I liked that. I liked it a lot. So, I wrote to him.

And then he wrote me back.

And this continued...  and continued...

(And I began to freak out because maybe this was real? I had guarded myself for so long from actual intimacy... this was entirely new. It's one thing to be "on the hunt" but to actually be in a relationship?! Yikes!)

*wink*

Recently, he wrote to me that my response was the only one he wrote back to... which I know: "best online dating pick up line ever" but he it was sweet and genuine! And I loved it. And both of us truly believe that God was involved in our online meeting... even if we could have totally met in real life because we quickly learned in our emailing that our best friends were friends (crazy!) and they could have totally set us up.

Hmm. God's timing is everything. We also totally "met" several years ago at a Lord Save Us From Your Followers documentary. Our friends stood and talked for a bit. Us? We were just standing there quiet and oblivious. Totally a 'Til There Was You movie moment.)

I am feeling like God cares so much about me right now and my heart to find someone (online) over the years (okay, go with me here I know this makes me sound a little cukoo), that MAYBE of all the ways I could have met this guy... God, in His goodness and awesome humor, chose to do it this way to remind me that He loves me so much and knows me so well to not make feel like a loser who tried and failed so many times?

Am I crazy? Maybe. But who cares! I am happy.

Wait until you hear the rest! He is wonderful. :) Until then... aren't you glad I realized how great and loveable I am?

*Long-winded version? So what if I take a really long time to get the good part. I had a lot to learn first. I still have a lot to learn. This is just the tip of the iceberg, my reading friends.

**It has been recommended to me by several friends over the years to write out all my online dating stories in a novel-type form. Apparently, they are pretty darn funny and even a little twisted. Maybe someday.

begging for sympathy (and forgiveness)

Yes, this is another post about cats. It's either men, cats or God it seems.

So, I am still knee deep in caring for cats and various other animals (add a stable of horses, two dogs, a mini horse, a buck-happy goat and 4 big fish) all for my great cause of paying off my student account so I can register for classes at OSU (online) after a five-year "sabbatical."

I offered to help out Nice Kitty (mentioned in a previous post) with her hairball issues while pet-sitting for the tech pastor at church for a week.  Well, actually, Dave asked (laughing) if I could shave the cat while I was there. In the past, this has been no big deal. Snip, snip. Nice Kitty even moves or stands still when I ask her to. NO DRAMA at all. This go-around, I should have kept my mouth shut and left the scissors in the drawer.

So, when Jen (the tech pastor's lovely wife) emailed me some last minute details (how to use the new tv, etc - very important) I responded:

I am glad to help! And Dave has requested some kitty grooming. Haha.

And this is my response from Jen:

Wow, Catnap (Nice Kitty's real name) can't wait! Seriously though, she's in the worst shape ever! We have been unable to get those fur things off her -- I would love any help you can give. Thanks!

And then, here I come. Cori-Scissor Hands and I butchered poor Nice Kitty. I could never be a hairdresser for the stars- or cats- apparently. (Fortunately this was never a dream of mine.) And the worse part is there are several places where the matts were so bad, that some of the skin was removed too... so, she has a serveral small, red sores on her little kitty body (which I have been carefully watching and washing with warm water.)

I called the the tech pastor and left the following message:

"Hey Dave. Cori here. This is not an emergency. So, yeah, I wanted to warn you that I went ahead and tried to help out Nice Kitty with the matted hair situation. And, well, I think I butchered her. She looks quite pathetic, though she seems in good spirits and was very happy to have the matts removed. Anyways... I am sorry for making your cat ugly. And well, I think I cut a little too close a couple times too. So yeah, I thought I should warn you before you saw her. Hope you're having a good camping trip. Bye!"

My anxieties over it all haven't dissapated yet.

At PetSmart last night (while purchasing food for my own cats) I asked the lady at the cat clinic for any advice with the sores.

She gave me THAT LOOK that said I was a terrible, terrible person for not taking the cat in to be professionally groomed. Well, I guess that look should go to the tech pastor, but honestly, give me a break! I reminded myself that not everyone in the world goes to that route. If you Google "shave a cat" you will run across many, many conversations of people who cut the matts off everyday with no drama.

Anyways, I don't know why I am posting this... my failure as a kitty groomer and my anxiety that the tech pastor will be upset or will endlessly give me a hard time about it.

Note: I considered taking a picture... but pride (mine and Nice Kitty's) is getting in the way.

adventures in house-sitting

Today was the last day in house-sitting for a certain family at church, the Walkers. I absolutely love house-sitting for this family. They have a wonderful comfy house, a beautiful backyard with gardens and plants and berries galore (lots and lots of watering!!) and one of the best dogs ever, Bailey.

Other than one neighbor visiting and complaining of Bailey's incessant barking Sunday night (honestly, it was driving me a little crazy too!)... all was going well. No major dramas. Nothing broken. The cats, chickens, rabbit, hermit crab, beta fish and dog were all healthy... Did I mention they had a lot of animals?

And then the final hour came about. Seriously,when it rains, it pours.

Afterwork today, I head back to the Walker house to let Bailey out and to put a lasagna in the oven for them to eat when they got home (she asked me to, I wish I had thought of it myself!) Anyways, I go over and I give Bailey her dinner and let her out. I then pick up my check list of tasks and make sure everything was done and satisfactory.

I visit the hermit crab, Coral. Now, last summer while house-sitting for the same family... I experienced my first animal fatality when a hermit crab died. So, I am a little uneasy about them. So, I open Coral's cage and and lift her out in her shell and peek in. No movement. Oh no I am thinking. Did another hermit crab seriously die under my care?  I am a little concerned. Coral isn't doing too much. She looks prettty.. stiff.

I put her back in the cage, and decide to collect the eggs from the chicken coop and check on the chickens and rabbit and make they are okay.  I go outside and head to the chicken coop and of course, Bailey is following me... she loves helping with the outdoor tasks. I open the chicken coop door and out flies out one of the black chickens!! Oh no!

Even though I was told Bailey would never do it... I worry about witnessing Bailey attacking the chicken and feathers flying everywhere. Of course, this DOES NOT happen, thank you Jesus! Bailey likes the chickens and I think wants to help me get the chicken back in her home.

Now, last winter I was house-sitting for this same house and it was very, very snowy and cold and one of the chickens escaped. For a very, very long time, I tried every trick I could think of to get that darn chicken back in the coop...  Did I mention I was wearing my pajamas at the time. I don't know what I was thinking. It was freezing. I wanted to be inside wrapped in a blanket!

So, this go-around is quite amusing. I must have learned some chicken shepherding skillz because this time it only took about 10 minutes. Woo-hoo! I'm feeling clucky! *groan*

 

This is the chicken being very naughty.

C'mon little Chicky, come to Cori....

So, I gather the eggs and return to the house. I go to shut the barn door, and Blacky the Black Cat is inside the barn, just sitting there and looking at me and won't move. She just looks at me and I swear she is thinking, "Haha look at me. I behaved these past five or six days, now I am going to be onery." Yes, that's exactly what Blacky was thinking. (My arms were quite full at this point with eggs or I would have just picked the cat up.)

And of course, Bailey who is one of those dogs who actually chases cats, is giving Blacky the protective guard-dog stare. I scold Bailey. But she ignores me. So, I give up... leave the barn open and return to the house to refrigerate the eggs. Bailey follows me, of course, and I lock her in the house! Haha! My evil plan works! I return to the barn to shut the door and make sure Blacky is not in it... and what do I see... but Blacky walking around OUTSIDE THE BARN like she (or he?) is the queen of the world. I am sure she was laughing at me.

With a big sigh... I think at this point maybe now I will feed the cats. I should be thinking: Is it safe for the cats? For me?

I manage to feed the cats just fine. Gold point for me! But then, I take the empty cat can to the sink and decide it would nice of me to wash the can out. So, I begin washing and then-- slice! I filet the skin on my left pointer finger. Blood is gushing. I can't find a towel or anything. I kinda wanted to just start laughing uncontrollably at the point, but my finger hurt too much.

I don't think anything else bad happened after that. Hmmm. No, not that I know of...

So, I decide I need to call Coral the Hermit Crab's owner and let her now a crab funeral will be needing to be planned. I call and get her voicemail. This is the message I leave:

"Hey Tiffany, Cori here...So... hmmm, what's that? ... [*looking at cage- witnesses miracle*] goodness! Well, yeah, sorry Tiffany about that. So I called to tell you I thought I killed your hermet crab again, but y'know, I am looking at the cage right now and Coral is walking into her coconut hut. Maybe I didn't kill it afterall. Sorry. Hope things are going well. Hahahaha. Talk to you soon."

Yep. Coral is alive!  I am not a seriel hermit crab killer!

That's pretty much the story. I wonder how I keep getting house-sitting jobs when I am such a weirdo and things get so dramatic. I haven't told them (the Walkers) yet about having to chase the black chicken around the outside of the coop and about injuring myself and having to rummage around for bandaids... but I did tell them about the neighbor complaining and well, you heard about the hermit crab. And I will probably show them this blog, so maybe its my total transperancy. Maybe the trust me.

I decided before I left the house, I would play some basketball. Practice up for my next Monday night A-Team B-Ball "game." There is something very cathartic about shooting hoops (and making most of them.)

So, now I am home for a couple days before I begin a 2-week house-sitting adventure where I will be caring for three different households AND my own. Afterall, Elwood needs me too.

i hurt

So, for the record, I am trying very very hard to not be a big whiner.

Monday night, after a crazy night full of adventure and mayhem (haha) with my small group girls, I came home to do the nightly nerd thing: myspace/facebook/blogs/emails/account balances. When I was satisfied, I got up to my lap top back, and quickly discovered both of my legs were completely asleep. I had managed to make one step with my right foot before discovering this fact. This led me to make a quick decision: do I wait it out or shake it off a bit and go forward. Well, I chose the latter, and to my horror, I had lost control of my feet... When I stepped down with my left foot, I failed miserably, and landed on the side... to which caused me to fall quite hard on my floor. I laid there, tangled up with strewn papers, my laptop and a plant that joined me on my fall. (flailing arms, I imagine). My left foot hurt, I was dizzy and felt a bit shocked. But, what do I do? I will myself back up, hobble to my bed, and GO TO SLEEP!

Of course, when I woke up, my left foot still hurt. I put some weight on it, and that hurt even more. I vacilliated whether it was bad enough to go to the doctor or if I should suck it up and go to work. I called my boss, and she recommended the doctor. I think I really would have hobbled into work.

After several hours of waiting at the Urgent Care, and some X-Rays later... Dr. Wong informed me that my nighttime fall has fractured a bone in my foot (that one on the side of your foot under your pinkie toe) in two places, though small, they will take up to 4-6 weeks to heal... I am to avoid marathons, hiking, dancing, walking... pretty much any activity that involves moving my legs or at least, standing on feet for a duration... I am to avoid swimming for at least a week or two. And, I get to sport a very cool new fashion accessory: a big black SideKick boot. I will wear the boot for at least two weeks, until I get new X-Rays to determine my healing progress. I was encouraged to hear I should be fine to walk down the aisle for my friends' weddings this fall.

So far, I find the hardest is the stairs at my house and getting ready in the morning. Everything takes three times as long.

Other than the embarassing fact that all this is due to me and my dumb choice of trying to walk with numb legs, I have to wonder if getting hurt in such a way where I will be forced to limit my activity is a more than just an accident... 

Anyways, I am looking for Personal Assistants to help me around the house, bring me sodas, paint my toe nails, fan me... Hahaha.