Herding Cattle

On Sunday I leave for Guatemala on a missions trip and I am overly excited to be doing God’s work and serving him in which ever means possible. There is one slight problem however…my passport hasn’t arrived. So, yesterday I got up at the crack of dawn (actually before that) to go downtown to the charming passport agency. This is pretty much how my day went.

5:30am: Woke up after 2 hrs of sleep (not a good idea)

6:00am: Arrived @ the agency only to see a gigantic line had already formed.

6:10am: Parked in the overly priced garage. $2.50 per ¾ hr GREAT!

7:30am: Started conversation with strangers in order to keep my sanity. My ADD had already kicked in. I can only remain quiet for so long and I had surpassed it an hour and 10 mins. before this point.

8:15am: It began to rain-lucky me! So like any smart individual my clan and I (yep..I
had already formed a clan) decided to move forward under shelter. Little did
we know that it was the beginning of the herding process. Apparently our
government thinks of us as flocks. Women- I know what it feels like to be treated
like as a piece of meat. However, there is a whole new meaning to it now. You
don’t know what it's like until you have been herded like a cow at the passport office.

9:03am: The Shepherd arrived to only let us know that he would be handing out numbers. Great, not only were we like sheep, we were numbered sheep... like the ones you count before falling asleep. If we did not receive a number, too bad because the barn can only hold so many. Besides, there would be another herding the following day.

9:15am: After being soaked, burnt by the blazing sun and dying from the humidity, some untamed cows thought it was wise to progress forward and cut others off. But little did
they know that my herd was not going to take it. So I commented and all of a
sudden one of our valiant members took off hurling at the Shepherd to complain. At
that very moment I realized I was the Queen calf. The power was all mine
heheh...(they had no clue what they were in for…such foolish cattle)

9:32am: I became queen Sheep # 81. Yes- I’m in suckers!

*Between 10ish and 12:30pm we were moved from stall to stall and given ridiculous instructions. I have never seen such a clueless shepherd. Between that time I was zoned out wondering what the heck I was doing. Thankfully I had great friends to remind me and get me through it. I am truly glad that the Lord has patience cause I’m sure I tried his last patience.

1:00pm: Anne Marie was a blessing; she brought me food and my sanity back.

2:45pm: My number was finally called and I was 'branded with' ... I mean, given... my passport number. I am now cow number A4187… The barn has never looked so gorgeous.

Guatemala here I come. I just pray that the Lord uses our group to fulfill his plan and that our lives as well as the children’s will be forever changed.

The New Box

So I officially turned 25 this past Wednesday, and boy was that a mission. Seriously I really didn’t want to get out of bed much less move anywhere. It seemed so hard just to put one leg on the ground and move forward. Why is it the BIG 25 and not the BIG 26, or 27? Who in their right mind decided that 25 had to be the big deal? Honestly, now being 25 I get the lovely pleasure of checking off the new box. You know what I mean; that small little square box in which lies your age. Lucky me, 25 gets a whole new little box at the end of the row. Marked 25 and older. How come three days ago I was in the 18-24 box, but now I’m in the 25 to lifetime box?!? What’s that about? Is that society’s way of telling us it's all over from here? If that’s the case, I don’t want to see 30 much less 40 and over the hill.

However, being 25 has had some great moments. I received this awesome gift from Anne Marie “The Wheel of Misfortune.” Basically, I get the enjoyment of spinning the wheel and waiting to see who gets the blessed misfortune of torture from me. I can see it now….Come oooonnn down you are the lucky contestant on the Wheel of Misfortune. And there in the background stand three faint figures: Yannick, Rey, and Anne Marie. Fortunately, there was this odd gravitational spin towards Rey’s space on the wheel for the majority of the evening. I’m sure he was thrilled at the privilege to play the game.

It must have been a great game in order to distract Yannick from his navigating duties, or as I like to call them malfunctions. You see, he insisted that he knew the way to the venue like it was the back of his hand, despite the fact that Anne Marie was holding perfectly fine, clearly legible directions. She had to put the directions away... We found out, however, that he does not spend much time looking at the back of his hand. How you claim to miss an exit while sitting in a car with 6 (that’s right, 6) completely see-through windows is beyond me.

All in all it was a great 25th birthday thanks to the wonderful company of friends, laughter, and witty banter. I will miss the 18-24 box like Yannick missing the exit. Although I'm now in the 25 to eternity box, I’m sure I will find some way of making it more appealing to others. Friends get your pens ready cause I'm moving that quaint little square to the front (aka cool end) of the line.

Girls just wanna have fun

Girls night typically only involves girls. However, when it's my girls night, we invite one eccentric, kinda buff lady. Alex, or as I have begun calling him... Alexa. The night was memorable. I don't know where to begin. For starters, I burned my hand- the welts tell me it is almost a second-degree burn. I had a little Freddy-cougar-hand when I put the goopy burn creme on it. I'm bringing sexy back with that hand. Note to self: when having a tea party, and pouring the tea, a proper lady gets her hand out of the way of the scalding water when she pours from the tea kettle. After the near hospital visit, we moved on to our lady-like version of catch phrase. We 'carried on' while screaming at each other, throwing things, and hurling insults. And Alex really was one of the girls. He is now officially Alexa, I see him in a whole new light. What next? TURKEY BOWLING!!! If you've never stuck your hand inside a turkey, and thrown it down a soapy, watery slip-n-slide towards ten 2-liter bottles, then you haven't lived. Just make sure that your dogs aren't around.

Dogs have this thing for wearing a turkey. I can't get the images out of my mind, of little Coco charging down the slip-n-slide towards the turkey. Forget Cat-Dog. I call her 'Turkey-Dog' now...Good times.

Glennis' granny-bowling