One Uppers (booooo)

Why? Why do people feel the need to "one up" other people?

I went to the mall to return something today. It was 25 degrees with 20 mph wind. It was cold. I was wearing a puffy coat my sister got me for Christmas last year because when I was outside I FELT COLD. During the exchange at the store the lady behind the counter asked me a question.

(Lady behind the counter) - "That looks like a warm coat. Is it cold outside?"

(Me) - "Yes. Not quite as bad as yesterday but it's about 25 (degrees) and the wind is whippin' today."

(LBTC) - (laughing grunt) "That seems warm to me. Where I am from it's 40 below!"

(ME) - "Where are you from?"

(One upper lady) - (smugly) "South Dakota"

(Me) - (in my mind) "South Dakota huh? So that's why you're socially awkward."

Obviously I didn't say that but SERIOUSLY LADY? That seems warm to you? Do you know the ideal temperature for a standard refrigerator is from 35-40 degrees fahrenheit? Are you ever at your house and you think, "hmmm, it's chilly in here. I think I'll jump in the fridge and warm up!"? I don't think so. Cold is cold.

This happens all the time at the hotel. People, mostly fat guys, will be out of the warm hotel for five seconds, see all the valets bundled up and say, "You guys act like it's cold out here. This aint cold!"

A. If this isn't cold then come hang out with us for eight hours in your sleeveless shirt and overalls.

B. Why don't you just say, "I don't have a very high self esteem so I am going to build myself up by saying that I am more of a man than you are because I don't think this is cold and you do, you panzie a$$"

C. You might be warmer because of all the extra layers of fat protecting you from the cold the same way a manatee, aka "the sea cow, is protected from the arctic waters.

I guess if you like to insult people in a somewhat indirect manner, learn the art of one-upping. If you want to be a good person ,let people tell their stories and have their opinions. I promise everyone will like you more or at least dislike you less.

Watch us work

Tonight we walked into the mall at 8:40 (we were going to go earlier, but I got caught watching the Biggest Loser finale (of which I missed the last part, so shhhh...don't tell me yet)). We made a little pit stop at the Starbucks kiosk (thanks Lindsay & Jamin) and headed to finish the last of our shopping. We walked out of the mall at 9:30 with all purchases complete for everyone on our list. And because of the struggling economy, we scored bigtime - GREAT gifts that we're really excited about for crazy low prices. Can it get better?

Team T & J: we just know how to get it done. :)

Menu Monday

Okay, I'm going to "borrow" an idea from my friend, Tracy, and start posting our weekly menus on Monday. My reasons are many, but mostly - it's fun for me to share with you something I have come to enjoy greatly - cooking. Also, while I'm planning our menus, I find it helpful to check other sites and blogs when I feel like I need some inspiration. Who knows, maybe our menu will spark your imagination and give some motivation to insert something new into your menu. Here goes:

Monday: Shredded Pork Tacos
Actually leftovers from last week. We've already eaten on this one recipe three times, and I think we've got one more in us. I love meals that I can make once and stretch throughout the week - I got the pork roast on sale, and this one has been a real budget saver. We'll probably forgo the slaw and do chips and salsa instead! :)

Tuesday: Vegetable Soup and Grilled Cheese Sandwiches
The soup is from a friend's recipe. It's pretty much any kind of veggie you want to throw in with some tomato juice, beef broth, seasonings and water. You can add meat if you want, but we're trying to limit our meat consumption, plus stretch our wallet, so the vegetarian variety suits us just fine. Check out Phil's recipe below:

2 bags frozen soup veggies
1 bag gumbo veggies
1 Lg. bottle of tomato juice
2 cans of low sodium beef broth plus 2 cans of water
½ cup of rice or macaroni
1 can of dark kidney beans
1 Lg. can of diced tomatoes
½ tsp of red ground pepper
¼ cup of Worchester sauce
Salt and pepper to taste
1 tsp. of ground cumin
10 dashes of hot pepper sauce/Tabasco
2 tbl. Of dry parsley

We also learned that if you shread your cheese before putting it on the grilled cheese, it melts better. (For those of you who don't know, Trevor is a cheese snob who doesn't like the "fake" Kraft singles cheese.) We buy block cheese that is harder to melt, thus, the shredding idea was a revelation for us.

Wednesday: Baked Manicotti
From America's Test Kitchen. The link won't work because it requires a password, but I'll give you a little run-down. If you'd like the full recipe, let me know and I'll email you. What makes this manicotti dish so much easier is the fact that you use no-cook lasagna noodles instead of those hard-to-stuff manicotti shells. You pour boiling-hot water over the noodles in a baking dish (making sure they don't stick) until plyable. Then you just spread your cheese mixture on the flat noodle and roll it up. SO much easier and SO much faster than stuffing those other noodles. MMMM!

Thursday: Buffalo Chicken Strips with Blue Cheese Salad
We may just put the chicken strips on the salad and do a little copycat version of our favorite salad from Chili's.

Friday: Spaghetti with red sauce
Basic Spaghetti. If I have some hamburger meat left over from the manicotti, I may throw some in the sauce. If not, I've got some frozen peppers and onions that I think I'll put in there. A little garlic bread and some green beans, I'd say we'll have ourselves a meal. :)

Saturday: night out - WooHoo!

Sunday Lunch: Chicken Roll-ups with Spinach and Feta I'm differing from the recipe a little because I don't have Arugula or goat cheese, and I need to work with what I've got. I think the Spinach and Feta will work just fine, and I may cook these in the crockpot with a little homemade tomato sauce just for fun. Let's hope it works!

Sunday Dinner: Leftovers (we're bound to have some somewhere) Otherwise, it will be peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for all.

Okay, so that's what we're eating this week. I'd love to know what's on your menu. Please, feel free to share.

It's so pretty

This afternoon, Trevor and I unexpectedly welcomed a new member into the family. As the gender is yet to be determined, here it is:









After church we went with our friend and keyboardist, Stephen on a hunt for a new keyboard to replace our amazingly awesome but beastly Roland Fantom. While we found the keyboard we were looking for - a Roland RD300GX - we wanted to wait until the Fantom sold before we purchased a replacement. As we got ready to leave the final store, Trevor decided to take a quick walk through the guitars, (his has been having some issues staying in tune and such), when lo and behold, he found one that he just had to have. Giggling to myself, I figured I'd give him 5 minutes to tinker around before dragging him out of the store and home to help me clean. After 25 minutes, I realized that he was seriously looking at this guitar. 10 minutes later still, he had worked out a deal that included a hard case and new strings and we were out the door. I have to admit that, for a brand that I've never heard of, this guitar is gorgeous and the sound is incredibly rich. I'm excited to see what new inspiration it will bring.

Christmastime is HERE!

As promised, and I should know (it's been on my to-do list all week)...here are some pictures of our little house all decorated for Christmas. Enjoy!


Our Christmas tree. The ribbon was Trevor's finishing touch, and I LOVE it!



Living room fireplace.



My copycat version of a wreath I saw in Flower's Express. It's a tiny bit uneven, but I love it. Stay tuned for more on how I made it...



Stockings, new stocking hangers and our copycat version of a berry decoration we saw in Target. We probably should have just purchased the one from Target. But it was fun to try!

We wish you could be here to visit with us in person, but thanks for stopping by to see our cozy little home at Christmastime. We LOVE it!

Video Wednesday

While I had very good intentions last night, it didn't work out for me to post pictures of our little house all decorated in Christmas cheer, so this will have to see you through until I have a free moment and our camera at the same time. Trevor and I are in love with this imaginative and articulate little girl. We imagine that maybe we might be blessed have our own adorable little storyteller someday. (No - that's not a subliminal message, so check all speculations at the door) :)

Our friend Ellen first showed us the video, and yesterday Jolleen posted it too. I couldn't resist:

Le petit conteur (The Little Storyteller)

Fall has Fallen!!!

In October of 2006, Jamie and I found a cute brick house on a corner. It was the beginning of autumn and the eight trees in our future yard were turning the most beautiful colors. After we moved in, I must repeat AFTER, those beautiful leaves all fell to the ground. Every year they fall. All of them. Every year.


We decided to stay on top of the raking this year. We tried to wait until the yard was just starting to look like a wild forest and our neighbors we giving us the "it's called a rake" look. Twelve 30 gallon leaf bags later, our yard still has leaves on it. If it wasn't so gorgeous when the leaves change I would go straight up Paul Bunyan styles out there. I guess I'll stick with looking and raking and raking and raking...

There Will Be Blogs

After receiving quite the scolding from our four, that's right I said FOUR loyal readers, Trevor and I have made a committment to attempt to try to blog (maybe) three times a week. You heard me. I said "Three times a week" (maybe). Now I know it's a bold statement, but we really are going to try. You see, we have lots of good topics, and plenty of motivation - it's just that none of that matters at 8:30 when we're tired and just want to veg in front of the T.V. until bedtime. We're working on it. So check back; refresh the page often - these will be days you will NOT want to miss! Err, maybe you will...but for Pete's sake, don't say it outloud. Our feelings are fragile enough as it is.
Watch for the first one coming TONIGHT!

Media's Presidential Bias and Decline
Columnist Michael Malone Looks at Slanted Election Coverage and the Reasons Why
Column By MICHAEL S. MALONE
Oct. 24, 2008 —

The traditional media are playing a very, very dangerous game -- with their readers, with the Constitution and with their own fates.

The sheer bias in the print and television coverage of this election campaign is not just bewildering, but appalling. And over the last few months I've found myself slowly moving from shaking my head at the obvious one-sided reporting, to actually shouting at the screen of my television and my laptop computer.
But worst of all, for the last couple weeks, I've begun -- for the first time in my adult life -- to be embarrassed to admit what I do for a living. A few days ago, when asked by a new acquaintance what I did for a living, I replied that I was "a writer," because I couldn't bring myself to admit to a stranger that I'm a journalist.

You need to understand how painful this is for me. I am one of those people who truly bleeds ink when I'm cut. I am a fourth-generation newspaperman. As family history tells it, my great-grandfather was a newspaper editor in Abilene, Kan., during the last of the cowboy days, then moved to Oregon to help start the Oregon Journal (now the Oregonian).

My hard-living -- and when I knew her, scary -- grandmother was one of the first women reporters for the Los Angeles Times. And my father, though profoundly dyslexic, followed a long career in intelligence to finish his life (thanks to word processors and spellcheckers) as a very successful freelance writer. I've spent 30 years in every part of journalism, from beat reporter to magazine editor. And my oldest son, following in the family business, so to speak, earned his first national byline before he earned his drivers license.

So, when I say I'm deeply ashamed right now to be called a "journalist," you can imagine just how deep that cuts into my soul.

Now, of course, there's always been bias in the media. Human beings are biased, so the work they do, including reporting, is inevitably colored. Hell, I can show you 10 different ways to color variations of the word "said" -- muttered, shouted, announced, reluctantly replied, responded, etc. -- to influence the way a reader will comprehend exactly the same quote. We all learn that in Reporting 101, or at least in the first few weeks working in a newsroom.

But what we are also supposed to learn during that same apprenticeship is to recognize the dangerous power of that technique, and many others, and develop built-in alarms against them.

But even more important, we are also supposed to be taught that even though there is no such thing as pure, Platonic objectivity in reporting, we are to spend our careers struggling to approach that ideal as closely as possible.

That means constantly challenging our own prejudices, systematically presenting opposing views and never, ever burying stories that contradict our own world views or challenge people or institutions we admire. If we can't achieve Olympian detachment, than at least we can recognize human frailty -- especially in ourselves.

Reporting Bias

For many years, spotting bias in reporting was a little parlor game of mine, watching TV news or reading a newspaper article and spotting how the reporter had inserted, often unconsciously, his or her own preconceptions. But I always wrote it off as bad judgment and lack of professionalism, rather than bad faith and conscious advocacy.

Sure, being a child of the '60s I saw a lot of subjective "New" Journalism, and did a fair amount of it myself, but that kind of writing, like columns and editorials, was supposed to be segregated from "real" reporting, and, at least in mainstream media, usually was. The same was true for the emerging blogosphere, which by its very nature was opinionated and biased.

But my complacent faith in my peers first began to be shaken when some of the most admired journalists in the country were exposed as plagiarists, or worse, accused of making up stories from whole cloth.

I'd spent my entire professional career scrupulously pounding out endless dreary footnotes and double-checking sources to make sure that I never got accused of lying or stealing someone else's work -- not out of any native honesty, but out of fear: I'd always been told to fake or steal a story was a firing offense & indeed, it meant being blackballed out of the profession.

And yet, few of those worthies ever seemed to get fired for their crimes -- and if they did they were soon rehired into even more prestigious jobs. It seemed as if there were two sets of rules: one for us workaday journalists toiling out in the sticks, and another for folks who'd managed, through talent or deceit, to make it to the national level.

Meanwhile, I watched with disbelief as the nation's leading newspapers, many of whom I'd written for in the past, slowly let opinion pieces creep into the news section, and from there onto the front page. Personal opinions and comments that, had they appeared in my stories in 1979, would have gotten my butt kicked by the nearest copy editor, were now standard operating procedure at the New York Times, the Washington Post, and soon after in almost every small town paper in the U.S.
But what really shattered my faith -- and I know the day and place where it happened -- was the war in Lebanon three summers ago. The hotel I was staying at in Windhoek, Namibia, only carried CNN, a network I'd already learned to approach with skepticism. But this was CNN International, which is even worse.

I sat there, first with my jaw hanging down, then actually shouting at the TV, as one field reporter after another reported the carnage of the Israeli attacks on Beirut, with almost no corresponding coverage of the Hezbollah missiles raining down on northern Israel. The reporting was so utterly and shamelessly biased that I sat there for hours watching, assuming that eventually CNNi would get around to telling the rest of the story & but it never happened.

The Presidential Campaign

But nothing, nothing I've seen has matched the media bias on display in the current presidential campaign.

Republicans are justifiably foaming at the mouth over the sheer one-sidedness of the press coverage of the two candidates and their running mates. But in the last few days, even Democrats, who have been gloating over the pass -- no, make that shameless support -- they've gotten from the press, are starting to get uncomfortable as they realize that no one wins in the long run when we don't have a free and fair press.

I was one of the first people in the traditional media to call for the firing of Dan Rather -- not because of his phony story, but because he refused to admit his mistake -- but, bless him, even Gunga Dan thinks the media is one-sided in this election.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those people who think the media has been too hard on, say, Republican vice presidential nominee Gov. Sarah Palin, by rushing reportorial SWAT teams to her home state of Alaska to rifle through her garbage. This is the big leagues, and if she wants to suit up and take the field, then Gov. Palin better be ready to play.

The few instances where I think the press has gone too far -- such as the Times reporter talking to prospective first lady Cindy McCain's daughter's MySpace friends -- can easily be solved with a few newsroom smackdowns and temporary repostings to the Omaha bureau.

No, what I object to (and I think most other Americans do as well) is the lack of equivalent hardball coverage of the other side -- or worse, actively serving as attack dogs for the presidential ticket of Sens. Barack Obama, D-Ill., and Joe Biden, D-Del.

If the current polls are correct, we are about to elect as president of the United States a man who is essentially a cipher, who has left almost no paper trail, seems to have few friends (that at least will talk) and has entire years missing out of his biography.

That isn't Sen. Obama's fault: His job is to put his best face forward. No, it is the traditional media's fault, for it alone (unlike the alternative media) has had the resources to cover this story properly, and has systematically refused to do so.

Why, for example to quote the lawyer for Republican presidential nominee Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz., haven't we seen an interview with Sen. Obama's grad school drug dealer -- when we know all about Mrs. McCain's addiction? Are Bill Ayers and Tony Rezko that hard to interview? All those phony voter registrations that hard to scrutinize? And why are Sen. Biden's endless gaffes almost always covered up, or rationalized, by the traditional media?

Joe the Plumber

The absolute nadir (though I hate to commit to that, as we still have two weeks before the election) came with Joe the Plumber.

Middle America, even when they didn't agree with Joe, looked on in horror as the press took apart the private life of an average person who had the temerity to ask a tough question of a presidential candidate. So much for the standing up for the little man. So much for speaking truth to power. So much for comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable, and all of those other catchphrases we journalists used to believe we lived by.

I learned a long time ago that when people or institutions begin to behave in a matter that seems to be entirely against their own interests, it's because we don't understand what their motives really are. It would seem that by so exposing their biases and betting everything on one candidate over another, the traditional media is trying to commit suicide -- especially when, given our currently volatile world and economy, the chances of a successful Obama presidency, indeed any presidency, is probably less than 50/50.

Furthermore, I also happen to believe that most reporters, whatever their political bias, are human torpedoes & and, had they been unleashed, would have raced in and roughed up the Obama campaign as much as they did McCain's. That's what reporters do. I was proud to have been one, and I'm still drawn to a good story, any good story, like a shark to blood in the water.

So why weren't those legions of hungry reporters set loose on the Obama campaign? Who are the real villains in this story of mainstream media betrayal?
The editors. The men and women you don't see; the people who not only decide what goes in the paper, but what doesn't; the managers who give the reporters their assignments and lay out the editorial pages. They are the real culprits.
Bad Editors

Why? I think I know, because had my life taken a different path, I could have been one: Picture yourself in your 50s in a job where you've spent 30 years working your way to the top, to the cockpit of power & only to discover that you're presiding over a dying industry. The Internet and alternative media are stealing your readers, your advertisers and your top young talent. Many of your peers shrewdly took golden parachutes and disappeared. Your job doesn't have anywhere near the power and influence it did when your started your climb. The Newspaper Guild is too weak to protect you any more, and there is a very good chance you'll lose your job before you cross that finish line, 10 years hence, of retirement and a pension.
In other words, you are facing career catastrophe -- and desperate times call for desperate measures. Even if you have to risk everything on a single Hail Mary play. Even if you have to compromise the principles that got you here. After all, newspapers and network news are doomed anyway -- all that counts is keeping them on life support until you can retire.

And then the opportunity presents itself -- an attractive young candidate whose politics likely matches yours, but more important, he offers the prospect of a transformed Washington with the power to fix everything that has gone wrong in your career.

With luck, this monolithic, single-party government will crush the alternative media via a revived fairness doctrine, re-invigorate unions by getting rid of secret votes, and just maybe be beholden to people like you in the traditional media for getting it there.

And besides, you tell yourself, it's all for the good of the country &

This is the opinion of the columnist and in no way reflects the opinion of ABC News.

Michael S. Malone is one of the nation's best-known technology writers. He has covered Silicon Valley and high-tech for more than 25 years, beginning with the San Jose Mercury News as the nation's first daily high-tech reporter. His articles and editorials have appeared in such publications as The Wall Street Journal, the Economist and Fortune, and for two years he was a columnist for The New York Times. He was editor of Forbes ASAP, the world's largest-circulation business-tech magazine, at the height of the dot-com boom. Malone is the author or co-author of a dozen books, notably the best-selling "Virtual Corporation." Malone has also hosted three public television interview series, and most recently co-produced the celebrated PBS miniseries on social entrepreneurs, "The New Heroes." He has been the ABCNews.com

"Silicon Insider" columnist since 2000.

Copyright © 2008 ABC News Internet Ventures
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we did. did you?

the closest spot

I ran to Kroger today on my lunchbreak to pick up a cliff bar for lunch [thank you Katie]. The clouds were threatening rain and I was in a hurry. I spied an open spot near the door and of course, I did what I always do: rejoiced in my good fortune and parked without a second thought. I finished my shopping and headed for the car. It wasn't raining hard yet so I was relieved - Until I realized something. Walking in front of me, struggling to lug her two sacks of groceries and hold her hood up at the same time, was this precious little woman. She wasn't that old, but was sort of feeble - maybe she's been sick or experienced some other type of misfortune in life. I started to feel really bad when I realized as I walked to my car in the second closest space, that she was walking to the end of the lot. The store was pretty busy for a Thursday at noon, and the lot was quite full. And I was just selfish enough to think that because I was in a hurry and not wanting to get wet, I had a right to park in that close spot.

Humbling.

Now I know what you may be thinking, if I hadn't taken that spot, someone else just like me might have. We live in a society that teaches us to circle the mall lot for hours (figuratively), looking for the perfect spot. But the thing is, I have the fortune of being in relatively good health. It doesn't cause me pain to walk an extra 100 yards, and you know - it doesn't inconvenience me that much to do so. I feel awful inside that it might have been because of me that that poor woman had to walk so much farther in the cold windy mist...and I was just a hop skip and a jump from the door.

Think about it. I know I have been.

You don't know me starbucks! (by Trevor)

It is officially my favorite time of the year. If there is weather in heaven it will be Autumn all the time. The leaves will always be a multitude of colors, there will always be football games or highlights on the tube and you will always have the option of the "shorts and a sweatshirt" combo. One more thing that makes this season the best is coffee tastes so much better when it's cold.

Enter Starbucks.

Starbucks has become tradition on a Lubiens' Sunday morning. It also typically makes us late to choir and orchestra run-through, but at least we have our priorities in line. In the last couple months I have started to notice that Starbucks has made a change in their protocol. It was a minor irritant at first but has grown into and proven to always be a very awkward experience.

Starbucks is teaching their employees to be mind readers. And not doing a very good job I might add. Lately when you pull into the drive-thru the barista working the headset will say something along the lines of, "Welcome to Starbucks, this is Kim and Christina. How are you doing today?" First of all, are you Kim or Christina? And secondly, do you want to know who all is in the car with me and how all of us are doing? Of course I will say I'm fine and then ask how they are today. Then comes the crystal ball time.

With the addition of the shakes and energy drinks and taking into account double and triple shots, short, tall, grande, venti, sugar, raw sugar, sweetener, all the flavored syrups, all the sugar free syrups, decaf, skim milk, whole milk, half n' half, iced drinks and all the other additives and subtractitives, the ammount of options could be in the hundreds of thousands. Still, without failure, Kim or Christina will take a hack at guessing my drink of the day.

"How about I make you a grande caramel frappe?"

Seriously?!? You haven't even seen me! I promise you I do not look like a caramel frappe guy. Now that I'm thinking about it, I don't know what kind of a coffee guy I look like. If I had to guess, and if I worked at Starbucks I would have to, I would say I am a venti mocha guy. I'm not, but that is what I think I look like. After seeing some people you could make a good guess as to what kind of drink they like but not by simply hearing their muffled drive-thru voice!

This Sunday was a little different. Jamie stayed home for first service to get ready to sing in a concert later that night. So I made a solo coffee run without my wife. I pulled into the drive-thru and sure enough the guessing game started with me trying to figure out if the man wearing the headset was Daniel or Stephanie. He, who I can safely assume was Daniel, asked if my morning was going well and I told him that it was so far. And then, Daniel took a stab at my drink.

"Can I get you a pumpkin spice latte today?"

Without my wife who is my socially acceptable filter I replied,

"Nope! Guess again!"

Daniel did not want to guess again. Apparently there is one guess per customer limit.

Starbucks, I love you. Without you I would be forced to drive many miles and drink gamble coffee until I found something that tastes close to what you have. You have fallen away from the artistry that is specialty coffee but you are so consistently great. Just one simple question, what's wrong with the good old fashioned "Welcome to Starbucks. What can I get for you?" Please oh please stop pushing your seasonal drinks in a guessing format and just let me order what I want.

tea time

it's fall in a cup and a bright spot in my otherwise -eh- afternoon.

getting picked

Yesterday I (Jamie) recieved an email confirming my acceptance into The Nashville Choir. I already knew I was "in" because they told me so at the end of my audition. I didn't want to tell anyone because I wanted to wait for the confirmation email just to be sure. You know...better to announce it a little late than to have to retract an announcement if something fell through. It feels good to get picked though. Really good. I'm very excited about this opportunity, as it will mean singing all over town, backing various artists, and allowing me to gain valuable experience in performance and maybe even recording.

I found out today that I didn't get picked for the Nashville Symphony Chorus. To be honest, I knew it was a long shot from the start. I haven't sung classically in almost 4 years - and I knew they would know that. I had a great audition though, and am pleased with the effort I put in. Sure, it would have felt great to get picked for this, the most prestigious choir in Nashville, but I feel good knowing that I did my best. So maybe getting picked isn't the only thing that matters afterall. :)

If you'd like to check it out, The Nashville Choir has a website: www.thenashvillechoir.org. Our first performance is backing Michael W. Smith and other artists at his 25th Anniversary Celebration. I'd be fibbing if I said I wasn't a smidge excited...

If I could

Last night we went to a praise service as part of welcome week for Trevecca Nazarene University. I think we went mostly because the service was being held in our brand new Family Life Center at church and we wanted to see how the space would accommodate large services. As the service began, we enjoyed the high energy music and lights, dreaming of a time when we might be able to hold a weekly college service of our own in the new facility. The music stopped, and onto the stage stepped a cute young girl with brown hair. I recognized her from Carrie's dorm and settled into my seat, figuring that this was the testimony that would come before the message and that we would all get to know what powerful things the Lord was doing in this girl's life. She proceeded to tell about how her parents had recently separated and how she didn't know how she could ever handle it. She was so vulnerable and finished with something like, "I don't know how to find God in this situation," and walked off the stage. Instantly I was transported back to being a 13 year old girl, scared and confused about the turns my life was taking, trying to be brave for the others...I cried. And cried. And cried some more. At one point, I had to leave the service. I finally pulled myself together until we were headed home and Trevor asked me if I was okay. I cried again. I cried for my hurt, and I cried for the hurts of all the others around me who were affected by my situation. I cried for the girl who had opened up and shared her heart in the service. Honestly, it felt good to let a little more out. But it made me wonder: how much more is in there? How is it that even when I feel my life is so put together, one little thing can trigger all the hurt I thought I had sorted through?

This morning I still feel a little like that teenager, trying to find my way through my circumstances, but I was reminded of a song. A song that was so precious to me and through which Jesus made Himself real to me in the midst of my trials. I want to share it with you:

When I cannot feel
When my wounds don't heal
Lord I humbly kneel hidden in You
Lord You are my life
So I don't mind to die
Just as long as I'm
Hidden in You

If I could just sit with You awhile
If You could just hold me
Nothing could touch me
Though I'm wounded though I die
If I could just sit with You awhile
I need You to hold me
Moment by moment
'Til forever passes by

I hope it will bring some comfort into your weary soul today.

oh dear

I just realized that I've been walking around the office for a good two hours with my zipper down.

In black pants.

With hot pink underwear.

FANTASTIC!

Envy of The Envy Corps

Hello everyone! This is Trevor. I forced that exclamation mark out because I am at home sick:( It seems like such a contradiction to be sick in the middle of the summer, especially in the south when it is 98 degrees with 90% humidity. The good news is it gave me some time to really dive into a new album I purchased a couple of days ago. I must preface my promotion with a few questions.

Do you like to dance?
Do you like to rock?
Do you like a bit of folk?
Do you like intelligent music that doesn't make you think?

If so, you will love the rock band from good ol' Ames Iowa (not Idaho, common mistake)! The name of my new obsession is "The Envy Corps". Very few times would I proclaim my absolute love for a band after so few listens. Athlete is one such band along with a handful of others. From the very first song "Wires and Wool" to the very last track "Story Problem", the album titled "Dwell" is packed full of hooky guitar, swooping synths, sexy strings, beautiful bells, (getting overboard with the alliteration) and crazy catchy lyrics. If you hear "Rhinemaidens" and don't like it than don't worry about the rest of the album (loser). Enough free publicity, if you get a chance please buy their album and support a very good band. They have a website and a myspace page so you can get a good healthy dose before you buy. On to other things.

My new band just put up a makeshift myspace page with not so professional recordings of three new songs. we are called "Be the General" at www.myspace.com/bethegeneral and we would appreciate your support so much. We are more rocky than the last project and we are still searching for a sound but getting closer with each practice. What I do need help with are some ideas for lyrics. This might sound like a cheap way to get out of writing my own but I just wanted to experiment. I have recently been checking out Kodak's picture of the day and making up a story for each picture. It has been challenging to say the least but very good for me as I progress as a writer. So if any of you have ideas of songs (it can be anything you want) or an amazing picture you could email or describe, I'm just trying to do this sort of pseudo non fiction type writing. Also, please remember that if we had access to a very good studio these songs would sound a bit different and hopefully we can get there sooner than never:)

Well, have a great day. You have to go though it so it might as well be great!

Trevor

Our new addition

We bought a chair today! You see, we've been blessed to receive very generous gifts of furniture for our wedding, Christmases, Birthdays and the like. We have all the essentials covered: a gorgeous dining room set and a set of couches with which I hope we never part. Last Christmas, we made our first official Lubiens family furniture purchase and upgraded from a mattress on the floor with stacking cubbies for clothes, to a dark brown bedroom set from IKEA. To finish things off, we have been looking for months for a arm-type chair for our bedroom (that would easily make the transition to the living room when I get a hankering to rearrange), deciding not to buy something just because it was inexpensive, but waiting for a perfect fit. Last night, while sorting through the weekly junk mail, Trevor found an add for the Summer Blowout Sale at a local furniture store. On page two of the add was this gorgeous little square chair. Not wanting to get our hopes up (photographers can do amazing things with awful furniture), we headed out to Cool Springs this morning to have a look around. Lo and behold, the chair was exactly how it was pictured in the add. After taking a few minutes to walk around the store and carefully consider our purchase, we came home with this:
A lovely reading/crossword puzzle chair with an even lovelier price tag - 80% off! Good find, T-rev!

Mrs. Pacman

Good Friday morning, my (2) loyal readers! Your long wait has come to an end. I knew when we started this thing that I would be terrible about writing often, but I figure I owe you all at least a snippet of something. And considering that you've been waiting, red-eyed and with baited breath at your computers screens since our last post in June, I'm delighted to oblige.

I am in love. Not just the pitter-patter-of-your-little-heart-can't-wait-to-sit-next-to-him-at-recess kind of love, but the head-over-heels-would-do-just-about-anything-to-see-you sort of thing. I cannot explain to you the depth of my feelings for...Mrs. Pacman. :D You see, never having been good at video games, I always felt that sitting in front of a tv monitor for 3 hours, pushing buttons and hollaring at some little character that doesn't do what I tell it to in the first place, was a tad...well...asinine. Until I met her.

A few weeks ago, Trevor came home with a Nintendo 64 which had been gifted to us by someone who was obviously way too cool and current with his Playstation57 to bother with such primitive entertainment. After scouring the country for two controllers and an AV cable, we hooked it all up and turned it on... I was quite literally unimpressed. You see, I hate video games. I hate the thought of wasting precious moments of my day on something so completely unimportant (Unlike watching Friends, for example) So you can imagine how thrilled I was when Trev Trev could barely pull himself away from his BMX racing game long enough to use the restroom for the day that followed. In one fell swoop, I had become like a lonely old widow, shuffling around the house with nothing to do, no one to talk to - whilst my husband sat on the couch, so fixated on taking first place on every track, that nothing else seemed to matter. Until the next day.

He turned off ExciteBike and began to play a strange and primative game in which you (the petite yellow circle shaped character with a big red bow) follow a line of dots around the screen, chomping at them as you go, and trying not to run into the multicolored dudes that look like ghosts. Now I, like everyother pure bred American in the 90's had seen this game in the lobby at Pizza Hut - but in my own home? And it didn't look too scary or complicated - just follow the dots and don't run into the colored dudes. How hard could it be, right? So I mustered up the courage to pick up the controller and give it a try. It started off easy. I thought I was golden. It got harder, but I persisted. The more I played, the more invigorated I became. Trevor, I think just excited that I was paying attention to the thing, sat behind, coaching me out of the path of the colored guys that were obviously on a crusade to erradicate me. I played on...sometimes dying and starting over, but each time, reaching a little farther. For 15.whole.minutes this continued. My hands were achy. I needed to stop, but I couldn't - something inside of me telling me to press on.

For a few days following, I couldn't wait to get home and turn it on. I was getting better and better. And more and more cocky. Now we all know what the Bible says about pride, and fall I did. I became terrible at the game, barely making it past the first two pink levels. After some experimentation with number of lives and bonus points menu, I decided I needed a break. I flew to Colorado for a cousin's wedding and some much needed time to clear my head.

I arrived back in Nashville Monday night with my head in the game and by Thursday evening, T-rev and I decided to sit down and play two player. I started up the machine, my breath catching in my chest as the opening music was drawing to a close. Mrs. Pacman began her chomping movements, and low and behold...I was good again! I passed the first two levels with unwaivering skill and precision; manuvering around obsticles and dodging colored dudes. Another level and a little trash talk later, I was back to my old self - my old Mrs. Pacman loving self. Victory again is mine - (if only for the 5 levels I can master before the dudes overcome me and I lose all my guys).

I guess all I really have to say now is, "Thank you Trev-Trev. Thank you for introducing me to my new love. Don't you worry - there's still room for you on the couch too. You just'd better not touch the remote." :)

Keep your pants on, if you can find some!

So my wife tried a new budget for us and it worked brilliantly. It worked so well we had enough money to do something we haven't done in a long time. We got to shop...for clothes...for me! I wear an issued uniform at work so getting to put on clothes without a flaming Gaylord Opryland "G" branded somewhere very noticeable is a rare occasion. There is just one problem.

No one makes GOOD and AFFORDABLE clothes for men.

Maybe I am too picky. I really just want to look nice. I don't need to make a statement. I just want a graphic tee shirt that doesn't have two huge eagles who have been set on fire while waging war over the number 8. I also don't really want to where a shirt that says "Real cowgirls ride longer than 8 seconds". As funny as that may be, I do bump into people who wouldn't see it that way.

"So just buy a plain tee shirt" you say. That is a great idea! I have tried. I have big shoulders and apparently the maker of all plain shirts has come to the conclusion that if you have big shoulders than you also probably look 11 months pregnant. If I go with a medium shirt than I do get a good fit around the middle but look like I am auditioning for the Hulk's body double when he is just starting to get mad.

Jeans aren't any better. You basically have two choices. Do you want to wear baggy, acid washed jeans that could carry an emergency hammer or do you want to use Bush's tax refund and put some Paul Smith Jeans on layaway. Want some shorts? Well, if you have 9 items you carry with you at all times but you HATE it when they are in the same pocket, don't fret. Just buy some ever popular cargo shorts. Don't worry, I have some because they are the only shorts that don't show off my man thighs. I know how you ladies love the man thighs and so does Ralph Lauren. I tried some Polo shorts on and my boxer briefs where showing out of the bottoms.

Could someone make some good clothes that fit, that don't have the name of the store in 50 inch letters and that don't cost my entire paycheck? I would be very appreciative.

Please shut your mouth!

I have been told I am a laid back person. I am totally cool with that. I am passionate about certain things and the older I get, the more passionate I become. However, for the most part I am a very relaxed guy. In order to retain my calm demeanor, something will have to change. I will either have to stop watching golf on T.V. or the people at these PGA events are going to have to SHUT THEIR IGNORANT MOUTHS!!!

I don't know when people started yelling, "Get in the hole" after a golfer swings. My guess is someone heard a golfer say it after said golfer hit a good shot and thought the ball might actually end up in the hole. Regardless of the origin, what used to be an occasional occurrence has now become a primitive and benighted ritual.

Let me try to explain a little for those of you who don't understand golf. Every hole has a "par". "Par" is the expected number of strokes it should take to play a certain hole on the course. So, a par 3 should only take three strikes of a golf ball to coerce it into the hole. Subsequently, a par four would take four strokes and, you guessed it, a par 5 would take five. A "Hole in one" is when the ball goes in the hole on the first shot. This happens occasionally on par threes because they are close enough to reach the green in one shot. It has happened a few times on the longer par fours. A "hole in one" has only been recorded three times on par fives because of the long distance. So when a golfer, even Tiger Woods, hits his first shot on a par 5, the chance of it "going in the hole" is 3 to however many times people have teed off on a par five. Not very good odds.

I watched Tiger play the entire third round at the 2008 U.S. Open. After EVERY SINGLE SHOT (including his tee shots at all four par fives), some arrogant idiot who payed way too much money to come watch an intelligent sport they apparently know nothing about would yell, "get in the hole".

Golf is an amazing sport and I am very glad it is becoming more popular. However, for anyone who has attended a golf match and shouted those four mindless and idiotic words I refuse to repeat, I have some advice for you. "SHUT THE F...RONT DOOR". Buy some pork rinds and PBR with the money you saved NOT going to the U.S. Open and do whatever it takes to realize THE BALL CAN'T HEAR YOU!

Prison

As many of you know, Trevor is leading music for a service at our church that attempts to bridge the gap between our recovery ministry with lifelong church-goers. His involvement has touched me so deeply and I can see the Lord working in powerful ways in his life.

I didn't realize how much it was affecting me until I read a letter we received from a prisoner at work today. In the letter, he spoke of how he got messed up with the wrong crowd, went to prison, lost his family, his wife, and thought his life was over. There in prison, someone told him about the Lord and his life was radically changed. He believes that God intervened and after serving only 8 months of his 5 or so year sentence, he was released. God restored his family, his marriage and his life. He began to attend church services with his family, desiring to live out his days in service to the Lord. Until, because he was an ex-con, he couldn't find work. They lost their home and moved into a motel. He still couldn't find work, and they lost their car. He and his wife were forced to send their two young sons to live with a grandmother so they could go to school and have some kind of a normal, stable home-life. His wife was still working, but they were barely scraping by. Pretty soon their marriage fell apart. Still unable to find work, he was forced out onto the streets with no where to go; no way to get there; nothing to call his own. He said in the letter that he dropped 30 pounds in 4 months for lack of food...he had hit the bottom. Pretty soon, he was in trouble again and now back in prison. No one comes to see him. No one writes him letters. He feels utterly hopeless and alone. He is remorseful for what he has done and feels that even the Lord can't forgive him for what he has done. Says that God gave him his chance and he blew it.

Three months ago, I would have struggled to find a ton of compassion for this man. "He's paying for his crimes," I would have said. "He must face the consequences of his actions." But today as I read his letter, my heart was stirred. What would I do if because of wrong choices in my past, my future looked completely hopeless? If I had nothing - not a roof over my head or food to eat or a warm place to sleep...What would I do if I believed that not even God could love or forgive me for what I had done?

To be honest, I just want to run to that prison cell and embrace him and tell him about a Loving God who cherishes his very being, wants to forgive him for what he has done, and invites him to come back to the table.

I think of the women and men that I have had the privilege to meet through our recovery ministry. I only know bits and pieces of their stories, but I know that some have been addicted to drugs for 20, 30, 40 years. Some have walked the streets, sold themselves, done terrible things - and today rejoice at what God alone has done in their lives. I am humbled because these folks know what it is like to be in the very pit of despair and to allow the Lord to come in, take over, and lift them up. I don't have enough adoration in my being for what God deserves...He is truly the awesome, loving, almighty God. May I never forget what He has done for me - my sins, like filthy rags can be left at the foot of the cross where Christ hung so I can walk free, clean and blameless to the throne of the Father. As it is written: "Come now, let us reason together," says the Lord. "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool." Isaiah 1:18

Glory be to God alone for all that He has done!

John 8:36
"So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." I pray that this man will encounter someone this very day who will share with Him the message of glorious redemption that is found in Christ Jesus our Lord.

The great cookie binge 2008

It all started Wednesday morning. I didn't feel well to begin with, and being pretty sure the world had turned its back on me by lunchtime, I experienced a total grouch-fest/meltdown. There was only one appropriate action to take. I needed cookies. Not just any cookies mind you, but the buttery, rich, crumbly shortbread cookies that OMC used to keep in the glass jar on the counter. You know the ones, and I'm telling you, I needed those cookies like a junkie needs a fix. All day long I fought the urge. Of course, the more I fought, the stronger it became. I made it home and after eating a plate of spaghetti with some pretty questionable meat sauce, I decided I could make it at least an hour or two without those cookies.

Fast forward to late Wednesday evening (after church) when, with the support of my loving and understanding husband (who seeking to ward off the wrath of his dragon-wife and being bribed persuaded by the promise of a stop at the Starbucks next door), I walked out of Kroger with my large cloth grocery sack full of cookies. Trevor opened the car door for me (as he often does) and hadn't even managed to make it back around and into his door before I had ripped open that golden packaging with the plastic rack inside and devoured two cookies. Having promised our hero Trevor a stop at Starbucks, I figured the only thing that would make me happier at that moment than those cookies was a short, nonfat, (giggle) vanilla latte...and two more cookies...

That's four shortbreads and one latte. And one giant chocolate chip cookie I stole from Trevor's bag sometime between the two shortbreads and him shutting his door at.the.grocery.store. And that's not all. @_@ The shortbread tasted so good with the coffee, that I was certain I needed two more. Of course, by the time we got home, I needed something salty to balance out the sweetness of the cookie/coffee combo. So you're asking yourself, "Jamie, why wouldn't you just pull out the newly opened can of Pringles and pop a third of them into your mouth?" Good observation my darling reader...you know me all too well.

Binge count: six shortbreads, one latte, one giant chocolate chip cookie, 1/3 can of Pringles. You might think that I stopped there. And after one final (seventh) shortbread I did. For the night.

I woke up late yesterday morning as I often do, scrambled to get ready, and ran out of the house without breakfast. Don't worry, I packed myself an apple to eat once I arrived at the office, and a nice salad (with lo-cal dressing) for lunch. I also may or may not have thrown SEVEN shortbread cookies in the sack just in case the cravings returned. Sure enough, those little blond temptresses somehow managed to find their way into my belly - one on the way to work, two with the first cup of coffee, two more with a the second cup, and two more after lunch.

I think it was around 2:00 yesterday afternoon that while sitting in my rolly-chair, hovering over my trashcan and gripping my rumbling tummy, I realized the binge was over. Way over. #_#

All in all, the count came to 14 shortbreads, one giant chocolate chip, one latte, 1/3 can of pringles...all in less than 15 hours (8 of which were spent sleeping). Oye Ve! o.O I need some Tums.

The wrong conclusion

This is Trevor writing. I guess I am the "nickels" portion of "pickles for nickels" since Jamie is green and delicious (in a non sensual way...or not) and I am overlooked and cheap. Some or most of you may know that while I am waiting for a career in music to unfurl, I work at the Opryland hotel (the Big O'land) in Nashville. Every Monday through Friday, 6:40 AM to 3 PM I get to greet guests and welcome them to this monstrosity of a hotel. For some guests this process is quick and painless. For others, it seems as soon as they drive by the "Welcome to the Gaylord Opryland Hotel, give us all your money sucker" sign they lose literally all common sense.

Today's tale starts with a yet another slow, rainy day in Nashville. We work outside but under a huge covering. It is almost like a tunnel with the hotel's spa above us, the main entrance to one side and a very nice brick wall on the other. We do have a nice breeze that blows through but we are very shielded from the elements. So just to recap, it's very rainy, very slow and we are under a covering so none of us are getting wet.

Enter safe Steve.

My fellow coworker Chuck and I were standing in the middle of our covered 100 ft. drive. I saw safe Steve inside with his friends. I saw Steve approach the huge wall of glass doors we have with his perfect glasses and curly gray hair and his guarded grin. It appeared as if He and his friends were headed out on the town. Steve had a light jacket draped over his arm and said something to his friends before entering the slow automatic revolving door.

I do want to recap just once more. It IS raining. We do work under 4000 or so square feet of COVERDNESS.

So safe Steve gets two steps from the revolving door, opens his hand up to the sky as if to receive a "low five", and without one glance up to our stucco ceiling comes to the conclusion that it is NOT raining. My friend Chuck and I took a second to gather our thoughts then looked at one another very puzzled. We then watched safe Steve go back into the slow revolving door and back to his friends to tell them the great but very wrong news.

I can't wait for tomorrow.

R.I.P.

Garity (2006-2008)

Last night we watched as Trev's first official Nashville band was laid to rest. Garity had a good run. They played a couple shows, made great music, and were even featured on the new artists to watch page in CCM. We knew their days were numbered however, and now it seems we've closed yet another chapter in our story. *

Only to start a new one! Tuesday May 27th also marked the debut of the new band, Be The General. Along with the name change comes intensified musicality, thought provoking lyrics and a kicky dance groove. Honestly, I cannot wait for everyone to hear the new sound. I know I'm extremely biased, but I'm also probably his toughest critic (not being afraid to tell it how it is speak the truth in love). Hearing the songs come together last night, I was blown away. I don't think I could be more proud. And not because he was up there doing what he was put on this earth to do, but because he did it with such excellence and ease. I've never been impacted by Trevor's music as much as I was yesterday in the 'Boro. I cannot wait to see what time has in store for the gentleman of Be The General.

Look for a new myspace in the coming days with updated pictures, hopefully a snippet of video, and best of all, NEW TUNES! I truly believe you will be pleasantly surprised.

And remember friends: people first, then money, then things, then JACKETS.

That's all for now,

Jamie

*We do still have a few Garity EP's available for $5 bucks each. Just let us know and we'll send one your way.

It's a BLOG!

As the Lubiens family (duo), we are pleased to announce the arrival of our new blog. It was a tough road and as Jamie attempted to remember everything from her typing classes, Trevor passed out on the living room floor. After 2 agonizing hours formatting and trying to pick a name, here she is.

Pickles for Nickels.
She might be made fun of in school.