It stormed last night, and we had our third flood of the year since May.
Thankfully, this was nothing compared to the last two floods. It rained all day, but started in earnest at about 6:00, pounding down until about 10:30. We realized we have more than just a city sewer problem. The groundwater seeps in through myriad cracks in our foundation. Good times, folks, good times. David was kept quite busy with our shop vac and our pump.
I am pretty convinced that the previous owners were less than truthful about their experience with water in the basement. But there's nothing we can do about it now.
Fortunately, we had scheduled the third of three plumbing estimates last night (they scouted the scene before the geysers erupted). They were the ones who confirmed the problems with the cracks in the foundation, and suggested that aside from just getting an ejector pump, we may want to talk to some concrete guys and get the foundation patched.
Well, just before bed last night, I was having an Eeyore moment. I sat in my sweats, propped up in bed. David had just come from the basement to give me the update that the water was under control. I started spouting doom and gloom about how much this was going to cost us to fix. We'd have to dip into savings - savings that were meant for baby, and maybe a new used car, and maybe some fun things we needed. (Does anyone else note the irony in that last complaint?) Or savings that were maybe going to be stockpiled to do some serious aesthetic remodeling on the house. (We keep hoping a tornado will blow our garage down - without touching the house, of course - and save us some of the demolition work.)
And then David looked over at me and said, "Yeah, we wanted to use the money other ways. But, you know, God did not tell us he would provide for us and allow us to build bigger and bigger barns." (It's from Luke 12:18.) He continued, "He told us he would provide what is needed for today. And he has always done that for us - and more. Everything we've needed for this house, we've had it when it was necessary. We have the money to do this now. The Lord is providing."
And that folks, is one of the reasons I love my husband. He was right - is right. "A man's life does not consist of the abundance of his possessions." (Luke 12:15) Take a look at the parable. We have what is needed for today. We are encouraged to be generous with the Lord's provision. The Lord will provide for tomorrow.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Double Whammy
I'm posting twice today. It must be important, right?
It is. David created a band website! Yeah, I know I just told you guys to go check out his blog, but now there's the website. And it's cooler.
http://www.davidyeagerband.com
Check it out. You can look at photos, download songs, read the band bios, read David's blog - all kinds of stuff. Yes, the blog is fun, but this is the real deal.
Enjoy.
It is. David created a band website! Yeah, I know I just told you guys to go check out his blog, but now there's the website. And it's cooler.
http://www.davidyeagerband.com
Check it out. You can look at photos, download songs, read the band bios, read David's blog - all kinds of stuff. Yes, the blog is fun, but this is the real deal.
Enjoy.
Baby Update
Today was supposed to start with cold, freezing rain. Right now the sun is out and it's about 36 degrees - which feels really mild for Chicago. The forecast is still calling for thunderstorms and cold rain, changing to snow overnight, but I don't want to believe it.
Anyway.
For those of you who may be curious, yes, the baby is moving, and yes, I can feel her. All the time. She moves when the alarm goes off in the morning and I roll over. She moves around 11:30, and then, depending on what I eat, wiggles around after lunch for a while. And I feel her at night. The other night we were reading aloud in bed, and I could feel her moving when David spoke.
Here are some of my other observations about the 22nd week of pregnancy:
1. My maternity shirts from Old Navy all shrank and none cover my belly completely. But none of my big baggy non-pregnancy shirts are big enough to house Baby Girl. And I don't have time (or money) to go shopping for a few more tops.
2. I have these "grow with preggo" maternity khakis I bought. You can let the waist out as you grow. I undid another button today.
3. Every time I get out of the car, I feel like I have just done 50 stomach crunches.
4. Some days, I can only wear my brown Sketchers around. My feet aren't comfortable in anything else.
5. Indigestion hits in the morning. It's an indifferent enemy. It can come after a glass of milk. (Although I suspect my indigestion today is due to the spaghetti sauce I ate last night...)
6. I have to remember to breathe. Breathing is hard.
7. Tums are my new favorite candy. (See #5)
8. I think often of this cute blond pregnant lady that used to work out on the treadmill next to me when David and I lived in the apartment last year. (Even at the time, I only did the elliptical.) Now I wonder, "She was running. How did she do it?" All I can manage is a walk.
9. I'm pretty sure I roll over every hour, on the hour, when I sleep at night. Otherwise, parts of me ache.
10. 19 pounds and counting.
Anyway.
For those of you who may be curious, yes, the baby is moving, and yes, I can feel her. All the time. She moves when the alarm goes off in the morning and I roll over. She moves around 11:30, and then, depending on what I eat, wiggles around after lunch for a while. And I feel her at night. The other night we were reading aloud in bed, and I could feel her moving when David spoke.
Here are some of my other observations about the 22nd week of pregnancy:
1. My maternity shirts from Old Navy all shrank and none cover my belly completely. But none of my big baggy non-pregnancy shirts are big enough to house Baby Girl. And I don't have time (or money) to go shopping for a few more tops.
2. I have these "grow with preggo" maternity khakis I bought. You can let the waist out as you grow. I undid another button today.
3. Every time I get out of the car, I feel like I have just done 50 stomach crunches.
4. Some days, I can only wear my brown Sketchers around. My feet aren't comfortable in anything else.
5. Indigestion hits in the morning. It's an indifferent enemy. It can come after a glass of milk. (Although I suspect my indigestion today is due to the spaghetti sauce I ate last night...)
6. I have to remember to breathe. Breathing is hard.
7. Tums are my new favorite candy. (See #5)
8. I think often of this cute blond pregnant lady that used to work out on the treadmill next to me when David and I lived in the apartment last year. (Even at the time, I only did the elliptical.) Now I wonder, "She was running. How did she do it?" All I can manage is a walk.
9. I'm pretty sure I roll over every hour, on the hour, when I sleep at night. Otherwise, parts of me ache.
10. 19 pounds and counting.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Indulgence
I want NetFlix.
David and I have a nice TV, but no cable. It was an easy way to cut some costs when we moved into the house. Unfortunately, we also get almost no television stations. On a good day, I can choose from ABC (which is blurry at best), WBN, Fox, or the WB. Oh boy.
I watch a lot of Simpsons and American Idol. And SuperNanny. And in really dire moments, America's Next Top Model. I know we could up our Internet connection and I could watch TV online, but it's not as comfortable as sitting on the couch. And I'm guessing TiVo is waaaay out of our price range.
Last night after our small group, I hung around and watched a new episode of LOST with the crowd. Now, I haven't watched LOST since season two... so, obviously, I really had no idea what was going on. BUT NOW I NEED TO KNOW.
So I think I'm going to convince David it's time to get NetFlix. A good package, too. Wonder how I'll have to bribe him to get him to agree? (Kidding... kidding... kind of.)
David and I have a nice TV, but no cable. It was an easy way to cut some costs when we moved into the house. Unfortunately, we also get almost no television stations. On a good day, I can choose from ABC (which is blurry at best), WBN, Fox, or the WB. Oh boy.
I watch a lot of Simpsons and American Idol. And SuperNanny. And in really dire moments, America's Next Top Model. I know we could up our Internet connection and I could watch TV online, but it's not as comfortable as sitting on the couch. And I'm guessing TiVo is waaaay out of our price range.
Last night after our small group, I hung around and watched a new episode of LOST with the crowd. Now, I haven't watched LOST since season two... so, obviously, I really had no idea what was going on. BUT NOW I NEED TO KNOW.
So I think I'm going to convince David it's time to get NetFlix. A good package, too. Wonder how I'll have to bribe him to get him to agree? (Kidding... kidding... kind of.)
Friday, February 20, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Follow that Band!
Hey everyone,
Go to David's band blog - http://davidyeagerband.blogspot.com/ and become a follower.
As the album production nears its close, David is working hard on building a band website and blog. Lots of you have already visited the blog - the website is new - and coming soon. Eventually we'll be sending out an invitation to lots more people to try to get some traffic there. But we're telling you first!
All you have to do is click on the link above. When his blog pops up, look to the right side of the screen. Scroll down a bit, and where it says, "Blog Followers", click on "Follow This Blog." Then click "Continue." Job done.
:) Thanks!
Go to David's band blog - http://davidyeagerband.blogspot.com/ and become a follower.
As the album production nears its close, David is working hard on building a band website and blog. Lots of you have already visited the blog - the website is new - and coming soon. Eventually we'll be sending out an invitation to lots more people to try to get some traffic there. But we're telling you first!
All you have to do is click on the link above. When his blog pops up, look to the right side of the screen. Scroll down a bit, and where it says, "Blog Followers", click on "Follow This Blog." Then click "Continue." Job done.
:) Thanks!
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Taco Bell Blunder
I'd like to know something: Has anyone actually ever voluntarily ordered a Chalupa from Taco Bell? I don't know that anyone in good conscience could own up to that. It's like admitting to eating an entire package of Thin Mint Girl Scout Cookies in one sitting. Or making homemade fried chicken - the real kind. It just seems like in today's society, it might be frowned upon.
The other day after work I had a hair cut scheduled. I love my hairdresser, and just can't leave her. She only works two days a week, and I always have to schedule after work. So I devotedly drive 45 minutes to an hour through rush hour traffic to see her. That means in order to make my appointments on time, I have to get fast food. Usually, lately, it's been Taco Bell. And my typical order is a Baja Gordita (nope, no qualms ordering a food item that actually translates to "short, fat little girl") and a taco. A Gordita is a taco with some yummy sweet/spicy sauce on it. The shell is sort of fluffy and soft, like... well... a cross between a tortilla and pita. I love it.)
Such is what I did this past Tuesday. I then drove out to the salon. Arriving a bit early, I decided to eat in the car. Opening the bag, I discovered a horrible mistake: I had not received my Gordita. They had given me a Chalupa. (I didn't really even know what it was.) I examined it skeptically, and realized it was the exact same thing as a Gordita, except that they DEEP FRY the tortilla-pita shell thing.
Yeah.
Since I was starving, I decided to try it.
And that's when I decided that no one should ever actually admit to ordering a Chalupa. Here's why: A Chalupa is basically Taco Bell's version of a McGriddle. The fried tortilla thing is soft and sweet, but the meat inside is (obviously) still savory and spicy. The thing is so chock full of grease that it oozes over your fingers and face. Maybe it's better to describe it as somewhat like a taco corndog - without the dog. Or like plopping taco filling on top of an elephant ear - you know, those things you get at carnivals? And you know what? I thought it was delicious!
I swear I could feel my arteries clogging. I felt guilty with each bite (although with each bite I wanted more), and so after only half, I put it down and ate my taco instead.
So there's my confession. If it was socially acceptable for me to order a Chalupa, I probably would. But the fear of public scorn (and of triple bypass surgery later in life) will keep me from it. But... maybe I can hope for another accident someday.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
The Bug Story
So here it is, finally. It probably won't translate as well on screen as it does in the verbal retelling.
This past week I was in DC for a work conference. I was there with my supervisor, Emily, and my coworker, Andrea. It was great. Fancy, nice hotel, and lots of per diem for food. We learned a lot, slept well, and ate very well. Anyway.
The last night of the conference, my roommate, Andrea and I decided to watch a chick flick and order room service. So we donned our jammies, called up some sweet gooey chocolatey cake, and popped "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2" into the DVD player. (Hey, I didn't say we were going for quality cinema.)
After a sappy, teary, romantic two hours of teen drama, and too much dessert, it was time to call our husbands and go to bed. I grabbed my cell and was on the way out the door when I heard Andrea say nonchalantly, "Hi Scott... Oooh. Big bug on the wall."
Big bug? My radar went up. I had a feeling this was going to be nothing good. In fact, I was pretty sure that when I turned around, it was going to be a worst case scenario. I considered leaving the room, but my disgust got the better of me. I turned around, hoping to see a centipede or some other innocuous creepy-crawlie on the wall. But oh, no.
"Bug?" I cried. "BUG? Andrea, that's no bug. That's a COCKROACH!" And it was. 2 inches long. With wings. Moseying up the wall, out from under the door adjoining the next hotel room. I leapt onto the bed.
(Sidenote: I feel I must explain my reaction. I am plagued by cockroaches. I am almost convinced that the Lord sends them after me so I have a chance to battle my phobia of the disgusting things. It was while I was living in Spain that I realized I had the phobia in the first place - the cockroaches there are even bigger than Mr. Friendly. They come out at night. And they hiss. I hardly slept the entire three months I was there, always vigilant when the lights went out.)
Andrea looked over at me, a little slow to register my reaction. "Should I do something?" she asked, pink cell phone still at her ear.
"Yes!" I cried. "I do not like cockroaches! I reeeeally do not like cockroaches! And if we try to kill it, we will miss!"
"Honey, I'll call you back," Andrea told her husband sweetly, and hung up. I decided to put my socks back on. (Feet protection, people. If that thing disappeared, and I was unfortunate enough to step on it later, I at least wanted a layer of sock between it and my foot.)
Braver than I, she walked over to the phone (very close to the roach) and dialed down to the front desk. "Hello? Yes. We're in room 411, and there's a large cockroach on the wall, and well... my roommate is freaking out... and so I was just wondering if you could send someone to kill it?" The front desk agreed to send someone up immediately. Which meant we had to keep our eye on him until they arrived.
Well, Mr. Friendly began to move. And then Andrea wasn't quite the cool cucumber anymore. Taking his fine time, he sauntered across the floor, over towards her bed, up onto the wall, across her headboard, and over two of the pillows on her bed. And then he disappeared.
Panic set in for both of us. "Oh, that's not right!" she shouted, cringing. "What do we do? Should we go sleep in Emily's room tonight?"
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. "Hotel Security!" boomed a deep voice.
"Security?" I opened the door. There stood a stocky, dark haired guy dressed like a cop, holding, of all things, a camera. I looked at the man incredulously. "They sent Security?"
"Maintenance is on his way up. I'm here to photograph the roach. Then we'll have to treat the room. Where is it?"
"Over there," Andrea pointed. "Behind the big pillow." Just then, he crawled back out into the light. Mr. Security strode towards the bed, not yet seeing our friend. Suddenly he jumped back.
"Holy crap that thing is big!" he shouted. Quickly he snapped a picture. We heard another rap on the door.
"Maintenance!" called another deep voice.
"Come in!" we shouted. Another man entered the room. He was elderly, wrinkled, gray. He had a thin plastic cup in his hand - like the kind you get out of the dispenser next to the water cooler. The three of us cowered in the corner, as far away from the cockroach as we could get. We pointed.
Maintenance walked over there and in one swift move clapped the fragile cup over the big bug. Mr. Friendly didn't like that so much, and started flapping around inside. But Mr. Maintenance was not to be intimidated. He scooped our visitor off the wall and crushed him inside the cup.
"Thank you!" Andrea and I gushed. Mr. Security offered to move us to a new room, but it was near midnight, so we declined (I rather begrudgingly). And so, they left. That night, I slept with my socks on. And made Andrea agree to sleep with the bathroom light on.
The next day, we found a handwritten apology slid under our door. Inside it was a coupon for a free breakfast for two at the hotel restaurant.
I'm glad to be home.
This past week I was in DC for a work conference. I was there with my supervisor, Emily, and my coworker, Andrea. It was great. Fancy, nice hotel, and lots of per diem for food. We learned a lot, slept well, and ate very well. Anyway.
The last night of the conference, my roommate, Andrea and I decided to watch a chick flick and order room service. So we donned our jammies, called up some sweet gooey chocolatey cake, and popped "Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2" into the DVD player. (Hey, I didn't say we were going for quality cinema.)
After a sappy, teary, romantic two hours of teen drama, and too much dessert, it was time to call our husbands and go to bed. I grabbed my cell and was on the way out the door when I heard Andrea say nonchalantly, "Hi Scott... Oooh. Big bug on the wall."
Big bug? My radar went up. I had a feeling this was going to be nothing good. In fact, I was pretty sure that when I turned around, it was going to be a worst case scenario. I considered leaving the room, but my disgust got the better of me. I turned around, hoping to see a centipede or some other innocuous creepy-crawlie on the wall. But oh, no.
"Bug?" I cried. "BUG? Andrea, that's no bug. That's a COCKROACH!" And it was. 2 inches long. With wings. Moseying up the wall, out from under the door adjoining the next hotel room. I leapt onto the bed.
(Sidenote: I feel I must explain my reaction. I am plagued by cockroaches. I am almost convinced that the Lord sends them after me so I have a chance to battle my phobia of the disgusting things. It was while I was living in Spain that I realized I had the phobia in the first place - the cockroaches there are even bigger than Mr. Friendly. They come out at night. And they hiss. I hardly slept the entire three months I was there, always vigilant when the lights went out.)
Andrea looked over at me, a little slow to register my reaction. "Should I do something?" she asked, pink cell phone still at her ear.
"Yes!" I cried. "I do not like cockroaches! I reeeeally do not like cockroaches! And if we try to kill it, we will miss!"
"Honey, I'll call you back," Andrea told her husband sweetly, and hung up. I decided to put my socks back on. (Feet protection, people. If that thing disappeared, and I was unfortunate enough to step on it later, I at least wanted a layer of sock between it and my foot.)
Braver than I, she walked over to the phone (very close to the roach) and dialed down to the front desk. "Hello? Yes. We're in room 411, and there's a large cockroach on the wall, and well... my roommate is freaking out... and so I was just wondering if you could send someone to kill it?" The front desk agreed to send someone up immediately. Which meant we had to keep our eye on him until they arrived.
Well, Mr. Friendly began to move. And then Andrea wasn't quite the cool cucumber anymore. Taking his fine time, he sauntered across the floor, over towards her bed, up onto the wall, across her headboard, and over two of the pillows on her bed. And then he disappeared.
Panic set in for both of us. "Oh, that's not right!" she shouted, cringing. "What do we do? Should we go sleep in Emily's room tonight?"
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. "Hotel Security!" boomed a deep voice.
"Security?" I opened the door. There stood a stocky, dark haired guy dressed like a cop, holding, of all things, a camera. I looked at the man incredulously. "They sent Security?"
"Maintenance is on his way up. I'm here to photograph the roach. Then we'll have to treat the room. Where is it?"
"Over there," Andrea pointed. "Behind the big pillow." Just then, he crawled back out into the light. Mr. Security strode towards the bed, not yet seeing our friend. Suddenly he jumped back.
"Holy crap that thing is big!" he shouted. Quickly he snapped a picture. We heard another rap on the door.
"Maintenance!" called another deep voice.
"Come in!" we shouted. Another man entered the room. He was elderly, wrinkled, gray. He had a thin plastic cup in his hand - like the kind you get out of the dispenser next to the water cooler. The three of us cowered in the corner, as far away from the cockroach as we could get. We pointed.
Maintenance walked over there and in one swift move clapped the fragile cup over the big bug. Mr. Friendly didn't like that so much, and started flapping around inside. But Mr. Maintenance was not to be intimidated. He scooped our visitor off the wall and crushed him inside the cup.
"Thank you!" Andrea and I gushed. Mr. Security offered to move us to a new room, but it was near midnight, so we declined (I rather begrudgingly). And so, they left. That night, I slept with my socks on. And made Andrea agree to sleep with the bathroom light on.
The next day, we found a handwritten apology slid under our door. Inside it was a coupon for a free breakfast for two at the hotel restaurant.
I'm glad to be home.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
PS
It's raining today. Since all the snow has finally melted, we should be pretty safe... but pray our basement doesn't flood again. Yes, we're getting estimates on getting that sump pump. This week.
Chicago Most Miserable
I heard on the radio this morning (as I was driving David to the train station through the fog and rain) that Chicago ranks 3rd in the ten "Most Miserable Cities in the US." Apparently, some people somewhere did a poll on misery, ranking attitudes towards the weather, taxes, and economy. And Chicago was 3. We're a miserable lot. Right up there with the poor saps from Detroit.
Yesterday was 61 and sunny. It was a brilliant day. This morning, as noted, is foggy and rainy. The temps are supposed to plummet to around 20, the wind will pick up, and eventually they are calling for snow.
When I lived in Istanbul, weather was much the same (thanks to the Bosphorus Strait cutting through the city, pulling weather from the Mediterranean and the Black Sea), and I would tell people so. But people never believed me.
News on the album: Celebrate good times!! Vid is ONE SONG (yes folks, ONE SONG) away from finishing his work. I.e. then all the songs will be with the guy who's doing the mixing, and David can focus his attention on album art, etc. Which means that the estimated release date for the CD is MARCH. Whoopee!
Hm. Big bug story still forthcoming... Need to dry my hair and keep getting ready for work.
Yesterday was 61 and sunny. It was a brilliant day. This morning, as noted, is foggy and rainy. The temps are supposed to plummet to around 20, the wind will pick up, and eventually they are calling for snow.
When I lived in Istanbul, weather was much the same (thanks to the Bosphorus Strait cutting through the city, pulling weather from the Mediterranean and the Black Sea), and I would tell people so. But people never believed me.
News on the album: Celebrate good times!! Vid is ONE SONG (yes folks, ONE SONG) away from finishing his work. I.e. then all the songs will be with the guy who's doing the mixing, and David can focus his attention on album art, etc. Which means that the estimated release date for the CD is MARCH. Whoopee!
Hm. Big bug story still forthcoming... Need to dry my hair and keep getting ready for work.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Time in Virginia
My sister and brother in law, Rebecca and Stuart, live in VA. This past weekend David and I went to visit. The weather was gorgeous (50-60 and sunny!). And I have the cutest nephews in the world.
We celebrated Daniel's second birthday. Vid helped Adam (who's 4) decorate the chocolate frosting. After supper, we presented Daniel with the biggest, chocolatiest, most sprinkle laden cupcake. He seemed rather unfamiliar with it, although he knew it was food. Being a boy who lives to eat, he cooed with delight, blew out his candles... and proceeded to scrape off and eat all the frosting, leaving the cake behind.
Incidentally, when we handed him a second cupcake the next day, he cooed even more loudly (now knowing what was coming) and looked up at us in wonder, as if to say, "There are more of these wonderful things? How can it be?"
David and I keep hoping little baby girl Yeager ends up as cute as these two. (Yes, in case any of you hadn't heard, we're 99% sure it's going to be a girl!)
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