Christmas Time

Let me just start with I cant believe its been since June that I have posted anything...

Some of my favorite Christmas memories.

My parents would let us open one gift on Christmas Eve but the rest would have to wait until Christmas morning.  This is a tradition that Josiah and I have carried on in our own family traditions.

My dad would make homemade wassail, hot apple juice and melted redhot candy.  Soooo much better than eggnog.

All seven of us (my parent and us five kids) spread all around the living room while Dad read The Christmas Story Christmas morning.

Waking Christmas morning to a pile of gifts with my stocking in front of it.  Usually we were sneaking down the wall to where we knew the loot would be just as early as we could, flashlights in hand.

Mine and Josiah first Christmas were he made me breakfast and we snuggled up on the couch in our pjs and opened up our gifts to each other.

Near Death Experience

A near death experience, was it an accident or did Johnnie try to kill me?!  I will let you be the judge.


Back in the day I want to say that I was twelve, and my little sister Johnnie was ten, but I could be wrong maybe we were eighteen and twenty.  We had this old couch (the kind with the hide away bed inside) out in our garage, not really sure why but it was there.  But there it was calling to us to come and play.  Johnnie and I decided it would be sort of fun to be folded up in this thing.  Quickly we decided that I would go first.  I am not sure if it was because I was older and braver; or if it was because Johnnie was younger and more intelligent. 


First remove couch cushions, and then unfold the bed from its cozy home.  I climbed in and laid flat like I was in a coffin (should have been the first red flag).  Johnnie folded the end of the couch up and over me very slowly causing the mattress to slowly squeeze me.  The mattress started getting tighter and tighter around me as the bed total enveloped me.  I told Johnnie to slow down, as she started to lower the Angela burrito into the dark, lonely abyss that was the center of the couch.  I was traveling where no man, woman or child had ever gone before. 


All of the sudden I began to panic, really panic!  John… ummm, I think I am done I don’t want to be in here anymore, can you go ahead and pull me out?!  At that moment I have that stomach dropping feeling, and I hear Johnnie say oops as I slid completely into the couch.  If you put the cushions back on the couch you would never have known I was in there, except for high pitched screaming coming from the inside.  I really started to panic, John I want out of here, get me out!  Johnnie was on the outside tugging, pulling, and mustarding up all the strength she could from her little ten year old body.  JOHN!  I can’t breathe in here!!!  In the middle of her pulling she looked to see a large three to four inch gap above where my head and below my feet.  Calmly she tells me about the gap and I should be getting enough air.  What does she know; I am the one suffocating in here?!  Then she proceeds to tell me that she is leaving to go get our brother.  WHAT?!  Don’t leave me; I don’t want to die alone! 


She rolls up her sleeves, at least that is what I would have pictured in my head had I not already been busy watching my short life flash before me. She gives that stupid couch bed another hard pull, and out came the bed with a half crazed sister rolling from it.  Johnnie crumbled to the floor, tearing streaming down her face.  I started toward her, but my legs feeling like jelly beneath me I felt like I was walking in quick sand.  Wiping her hand across her face, she looked at me with pain in her eyes, if… I would have killed you dad would have killed me…

Bird in Hand, I wish

Bird in hand is worth two in the bush, you have heard that saying.  But poop in hand, now that is worth a good story...

As a new mom I have found that very little grosses me out anymore; keeping that in mind continue reading.

I was enjoying a nice lunch with my husband, sister and her husband in Texas.  I know what you are thinking poop and lunch should never be stated in the same story!  But... there I was I only call it like I see it.  I had finished my sandwich and took Brooklyn Baby from Josiah so he could finish his.  So I have Brooklyn facing out (she social, likes to be in on all the action) cradled in my arms, then I don’t know for what reason I happened to look down and investigate my hand.  And right on the end of my thumb was a dollop of poo (yes I called it a dollop: a lump or blob of "some" substance).  It was the color of Grey Poupon mustard, or as I like to call it now poopon (yes I am sure you saw that coming).  And no I didn’t taste it even if there was a chance it could have been mustard since I was eating a sandwich!  I am no dummy (at least not this time).

I proceeded to show Josiah, because that’s what I do now when anything weird or out of the ordinary happens to me.  He didn’t find it very interesting and wondered why I didn’t immediately clean it off.  After cleaning off my thumb, I continued with my all too familiar routine.  I grabbed the baby by her legs, butt in air, and ran at Josiah trying to wipe it on him!!!  Just kidding (action that happens in my head sometimes, but never has actually happened)  I grabbed the leg that had the leaking poo on it in one hand away from me and started to lay her down for the clean up process.  My sister (wise mother of three) tapped me on the shoulder and said “ummm Ang, I don’t think you should do that here in the restaurant”.  Right, good point! 

So, with baby’s poopie leg pointing the way, we left the eating establishment.  We found a park bench, a different outfit, and then half a box of wipes later, walla, good as new!

Job must've been a Fisherman

 I didn’t do much fishing growing up, it may have been due to the fact that my dad wasn’t a fisherman, or maybe because the part of Texas I grew up in the fish were so tiny they looked more like bait.  And you know there is just no motivation to fishing when the prize is a minnow…  

Then I moved to Colorado and thought I would give fishing another try, why not the fish are bigger at least, right?  Well, If you are a serious fisherman, my skills would make you cry.  Yes, I am “that” person that casts power bait out then instantly starts to reel it in like a spinner.  The fish that miraculously catch my line has to have catlike reflexes or swim at the speed of a cheetah.   

So, then I had another great idea:  I’ll learn how to fly fish.  I thought about taking a class to get the basic, but then I thought to myself, Ive seen a River Runs Through It about a dozens times.  I’ve got it down.  But you know what they don’t show you in that movie? How to untangle the line from trees, blades of grass or yourself, maybe that’s going to be in the sequel…    

Then it dawned on me, have you ever notice that fishermen don’t have ADD, there is just no way those two could co-exist. So this must be the reason me and my dad (okay maybe just me) never had that quality that makes a truly great fishermen (or fisherpersons) because, I needed the patience of Job.  You know what I mean, you have seen the type?  Those fishermen that just lean back on the trunk of a tree, outwardly not a care in the world and their eyes are the only thing moving…   

You heard of Murphy’s law, right?  If anything can go wrong, it will.  Well that is true in the case of Job.  Here is a guy that has everything that would make up a pretty good life, then Murphy moved in.  In a period of days…  Job lost his livestock, children, was covered in sores, and for the bonus prize had a wife that was like one of those yippee dogs that wont shut up.  But in all this, he never gave in to blaming God for all that had happened…  He knew God was in control and had a plan much bigger than him.  Job is the definition of patience.  The dictionary states that patience is the quality of being patient, as the bearing of provocation, annoyance, misfortune, or pain, without complaint, loss of temper, irritation, or the like.      

Now can’t you just see Job, propped up against a boulder, piece of grass in his mouth, just sitting there talking in low tones to God.  Hey God…  Why did you take my livestock, and then why my children?  Are we okay, God?  What is your plan in all of this?  Job might have his feet on the edge of the stream trying to ease the throbbing pains of the sores on his feet.  His wife runs up and says why are you still holding onto your integrity like that stupid pole, curse God!  Job looks up around the brim of his hat, and says, “Hush woman.  You’re scaring the fish.”

Climb On

I love rock climbing! It's mentally and physically challenging, and I'm pretty sure that God loves it too. What other sport do you start by looking straight up to God while praying non-stop and then praising God when you're done?

Harness…check. Shoes…check. Helmet…check, check. Then you find a buddy, who in the next few minutes will hold your life in their hands. So, what do you do? You find the biggest, burliest friend that you have. One that could bench press a dump truck. You then proceed to place one end of the rope through your harness and back out again taking the tail of the rope around your figure eight then you finish the knot up with a safety grapevine and an overhand to finish it off. All the while, thinking to yourself, "man that looks like a hangman's noose"! "Did I just tie a noose around my own waist?" You take a couple of deep breathes and think to yourself, "it will be okay, you don't want your buddy to see you cry". You lean back in your harness a little, just to make sure "your buddy" is on top of things and can hold your weight at a moments notice. So help you if he lets you fall, you will hobble, creep or crawl over to him on broken bones and kick the snot out of him!

The time has come and you put your game face on. Ready, climb on! You start out and this is fun! Reach, grab, stand, repeat and repeat again. Now you are nearing the middle of the pitch and your arms are burning as you continue your ascent. Reach, grab and stretch. Now your legs, all of the sudden, are mimicking the same action as your dogs when scratching his itchy belly. Your brain starts sending messages down to you legs like a drill sergeant; "come on guys pull it together, and your only option is UP"! Is it raining? Nope you are producing the water works. Sweat is running out of pores you didn't know you had and muscles are screaming "you did this to me"! Pushing away from the wall just enough to lift your eyes upward to see that there is truly a pinnacle, a horizon, glory to God in the highest. Surely you will live to see another day! With the target in sight, a new found strength pushes you on towards the prize. You reach, grab, and stand. You're almost there now. Reach, grab and stand. Victory at last! Kiss the rock, kiss the anchor and if someone was up there with you, you would kiss them too! You get a good grip on the rock and yell over your shoulder, "hey guys I made it, y'all can start calling me the human lizard"!
A command come from the bottom of the pitch, "let go of the rock face and put all your weight in the harness". You look down toward the speck on the ground that is speaking, thinking to yourself, "they must be talking to someone else". Then with a quick gaze around, you notice the command is for you alone. So, as a safety measure, you shriek back "you want me to WHAT?" But you know the only way down is the direct route you had taken up. So, you raise your chin, square your shoulders, shout "ready and take". Then you drop all you weight into the harness as you place your legs wide for a good base and keep you eyes on the rock face. Slowly you feel your stomach drop then catch when the slack is taken from the rope. Finally, your feet touch the ground and a permanent grin is on your face. Your hard work is over, you did it! You have just finished a task that can not be accomplished by everyone. It was your first climb and you met the challenge that was set in place for you. Well done!

All joking aside, my journey to being more like Christ looks very much like that of a rock climber. I pray that I start every day, every decision and every chapter in my life by looking up for guidance. I know that God gives us the equipment we need in order to be more like him, just like every piece of gear a climber wears helps him in any situation he may face. I will continue to place my faith and trust on the solid rock. I want to keep reaching and seeking for a better understanding of who God is and what he wants with my life. And just like every climber, after he has reached the top of his pitch, he will go and seek another one to farther his skill level and technique. I aspire to never be satisfied with where I am and always keep striving to be more like him!

The Cougar - Final Draft

No self-respecting 27-year-old woman wants to be known as a cougar…  

The image that comes to mind when I think of a Cougar is a woman in her mid- to late- forties with blood-red lipstick and a martini.  The Cougar drives the convertible sports car and coddles a miniature dog named Lady Genevieve, Queenie or Fifi. This middle-aged woman has her spandex painted on and her nails are always freshly manicured.  She has no wrinkles and wears a permanent smile -- whether she is upset or not.  She chases after pool boys, young foreign gardeners, or meat heads with tight shirts on.  The Cougar has a need to feel powerful by being able to catch men that may be out of her league and are definitely out of her generation.  True to her name, this woman is a cougar -- ready to pounce on any young thing with a handsome face, straight back, and large muscles.  

So, call me a Cougar.  I’m 27, and I married a man five years my junior.  Much of the world looks at my relationship with a frown on its face and its nose in the air.  It wants to know why a mature woman in her late twenties would want to have a relationship with a young man just out of college. Well, let me explain.

I met Josiah, my husband, six years ago when he was eighteen. He had a great smile and nice muscles, and I had no intention of dating him.  He was younger than my youngest brother, and just out of high school, for goodness sake!  We were good friends, and hung out with the same people.  For years I would tell my girlfriends, “Josiah is an awesome guy; we need to find him a girl,” or “Beth is a nice girl. We should hook her up with Josiah.” 

But as I watched Josiah through the years, I realized that I was looking for a man exactly like him -- just an older version.  I admired his character. I observed him as he set high standards for himself, and then made a point to live up to them.  He placed strong value on his family and friends.  He possessed a substantial stubborn streak (a trait that any man would need in order to put up with me).  He made me laugh, and I enjoyed his light hearted spirit. Over and over, I saw qualities emerge that are important to me.  I began to ask myself, “Is the woman being older really a deal-breaker for a relationship?”

In the beginning of our “more than friends” relationship, I had to overcome the falsehood that I had believed my whole life: that I shouldn’t date a guy younger than me, that this relationship was unnatural because I, as the woman, was older.   Society told me that the maturity-gap between us would be too large.  (What “society” didn’t realize was that I am the immature one, most of the time!)  I was told that we were in different places in life, and that we would have issues and problems because of it. What I’ve come to realize, however, is that everyone has problems – it is how you battle those problems together that help you grow individually and towards each other.  I knew that I needed to know for myself if this was meant to be or not.  I couldn’t have someone else telling me that we would not work out. 

That being said, I don’t believe that I fit this stereotype of a cougar…  I only meet one of the requirements. (Okay, maybe two – I have gotten a few manicures.)  I am the older half of this relationship, but you wouldn’t know it if you were to see me and Josiah interact.  Many personal attributes that the world would contribute to age and experience are part of Josiah’s personality, not mine.  He is a born leader.  He is decisive.  He is organized. He is driven. I’m just not wired that way. (But I do have a front row seat to see what it looks like up close, so that maybe one day some of those traits may rub off on me.) Because of this, we can work together as a team.  If he were older than me with the same personality traits as me it wouldn’t work.  It is because of who he is that we have the relationship we do today.  It is not because of age, knowledge or life-experience.  We haves two personalities that compliment each other, and age doesn’t change that a bit.

So, while I will break all the milestone birthdays first and perhaps be the first to break a hip, I have to admit that there are some wonderful perks to this relationship. I can’t beat the fact that, right now, my husband is able to get us the college discounts to the movies, and in not so many years I will be able to get us the senior citizen one!  Also when I become advanced in years I will have someone to take care of me.  And, because women tend to live a bit longer than men, then that would have us reaching the finish line of life together. I’ve got to say that that sounds like a pretty good plan to me. 

I’ve decided the world can think what they want about me. They can choose for themselves if I am a cougar creeping around after my next prey.  If the world bases its assumption on the fact that I’m several years older than Josiah, it will fall short of truly knowing me and him and our relationship. I didn’t seduce Josiah with my shiny car or manufactured body. Quite the opposite, I’m a woman who fell in love with her friend.  Am I a cougar because I chose a younger man and a younger man chose me?  I don’t think so.  I was just a woman who found her other half in an unexpected way.  

The Cougar - First Draft

No self-respecting 27 year old woman wants to be known as a cougar… 

I met Josiah, who is now my husband, six years ago when he was eighteen. He had a great smile and nice muscles; and I had no intention of dating him.  He was younger than my youngest brother, and just out of high school, for goodness sake!  We were good friends, and hung out with the same people.  For years I would tell my girlfriends, “Josiah is an awesome guy; we need to find him a girl, or Beth is a nice girl we should hook her up with Josiah”.  But as I watched Josiah through the years, I realized that I was looking for a man just like him, but just an older version.  I admired his character, he is a man that set high standards for him self and makes a point to live up to them.  I also saw how his placed strong value on his family and friends.  When we started to talk about dating I had to get passed the fact that I graduated from college the same year he graduated from high school.  Also I had to face the truth that when I was getting my driver’s license, he wasn’t even a teenager yet.  There is a factor that has helped with our age difference, he is mature for his age, and I am not.  In the beginning of our “more than friends” relationship, we were in different phases in life he was just out of college and me several years into the work force. We decided to go ahead, and move forward with our new relationship.  I was still nervous in giving this relationship a try because I knew that if it didn’t work out then we would never again have our original friendship back.  I also knew for certain if I didn’t take this chance then I would never know if this was the man that would be my husband.  It may have taken me four years to work up the courage, but as fate would have it; I am that girl that I have been looking for, for him.  But because of that very fact, I have become a cougar.

The picture that comes to mind when I think of a Cougar is a woman in her mid to late forties with blood red lipstick and a martini, not someone like me!  The Cougar drives the convertible sports car with a miniature dog named something like Lady Genevieve, Queenie or Fifi. My dog’s name is Gibson, that’s normal, right?  These middle aged women, for whatever reason, have on spandex and their nails are always freshly manicured.  They have no wrinkles, and wear a permanent smile no matter if they are upset or not.  I always think of them chasing after pool boys, young foreign gardeners, or meat heads with tight shirts on.  I think these women need to feel powerful by being able to catch men that may be out of their league, and defiantly out of their generation.  You have seen these women; they are directly off the set of Days of Our Lives.  True to their name, these women are cougars on the prowl for any young thing with a handsome face, straight back, and large muscles.  

I am a cougar…  Wait a second!  I don’t want a pool boy, and I don’t want to be powerful.  That just makes me the old woman in the relationship!!  I’m the one that has to break all the milestone birthdays first, and the first to break a hip.  I want to be the young good looking thing.  When I hit thirty, he is still in his mid-twenties, now that’s not fair.  On my sixtieth birthday he will just be fifty-five!  Why does fifty-five sound so much younger than sixty?!  I wonder if I can talk him into both of us turning twenty five this year.  Why does my husband want an old woman?  Maybe he is after me because I will collect Social Security and senior citizens discounts years before him?!  I can’t be a cougar I can’t afford tires on a sports car much less the car itself.  Last time I checked I didn’t have crow’s feet around my eyes.  Yikes, when was the last time I checked?  I need to make a trip to Walgreen’s stat, so I can stock up on anti aging crèmes, purchase a thigh master and support hose.  I wonder if it’s too late!  When do body parts start to sag, do I still have some good years left in this firm body?!  What will we do when he whispers sweet endearments in my ear, and I can’t hear them anymore?!  If anyone were to look at my life the only things that I have in my cougar portfolio is the manicure and my man.  

Of course the age difference might not be such a bad idea.  Wisdom and knowledge comes with age, so that being the case I guess that means that I am also the smarter person in the relationship.  I have brains and beauty, what a catch I am.  When I become advanced in years I have someone to take care of me when I can’t find my glasses or teeth.  And when they take away my license I have someone to drive me around like Ms. Daisy.  Right now my husband can get us the college discounts to the movies, and then in a few years I can get us the senior citizen one.  Don’t people say that men die sooner than women?  Well, if that’s the case then that would have us reaching the finish line of life together, that sounds like a pretty good plan to me.  Of course I will be a little more wrinkled and gray, but I should be in pretty good shape because for the last sixty I was chasing after a nice young piece of …   

So, such is my destiny in life, hear me growl.  I am a Cougar and my new husband is well, Cougar bait…