On eating large.

 the majestic lion, sleeping off his dinner of fresh gazelle.

Did you know that calorie counters abound on the good ol' www? Do you also know you should not use one when eating at a Texas Roadhouse restaurant?

I, of course, during my current obsession with calories, have the calorie counter from Livestrong.com installed on my iPhone. A good portion of the restaurant's menu pops up in their database. And it scares this current counter. "WHAT??! ONE ROLL HAS HOW MANY CALORIES??" (And this after i had just eaten the second tasty fluff of carbohydrate.)

My husband suggested that perhaps I should not look at the database or my meal would be spoiled. But no, for me it was much more like driving by an accident and you don't want to look but you do anyway--what I believe is called "morbid fascination."

As the food arrived I couldn't help but notice that at home I use platters smaller than their plates. I looked around me at couples and families in the neighboring booths. . .they must eat there a lot. I am no dainty princess of a woman, and yet I felt, well, small.

Surrounded by folks who were leaning protectively over their plates to eat like one of those nature shows where the beautiful gazelle is being torn into bloody bits by a lion, i thought, "Are we being secretly filmed for one of those documentaries called 'Obesity in America'?? Have I been placed in the fat room?"

Heck no, I have no issues around my size or food ...

Oh, side note: I have a friend with celiac disease. She is unable to eat at Texas Roadhouse, because everything has some form of wheat in it! Even the steaks have seasonings containing wheat. Bad news.


Skimmer's Recap: Texas Roadhouse--bad for people with grain allergies, bad for dieters. But tasty. Very, very tasty.

Notes on a writers conference and a book, "Love's Compass."

Freshly back from Mount Hermon's Christian Writers Conference, my stack of books to read is growing.

The Keith Green book is a reference to one of my favorite worship moments of the conference--the whole group of editors, publishers and writers, all singing a Keith Green song, and it was right there in the hymnal! i love Keith Green songs. i love Keith Green. He was becoming known in the early years of my marriage (about a hundred years back.) As soon as i heard him sing and play piano, i was a fan of his heart.

The "make your own travel mug" was purchased at Mount Hermon so i can line it with the business cards of people i met at the conference and want to pray for. That way the coffee can travel to my desk and remind me to pray.

The flashlight is the one i took to use in the very dark nights of the conference but forgot to ever take out of the room.

i think i'll tell you about the stack as i read through it. i've already read most of Angus Nelson's "Love's Compass: When We've Lost Our Way." It's a compellingly told story of how God can redeem even the most messed up man on the planet, the self-admitted "Man Whore."

WHAT did i just say there? Yup. Angus appears to be the poster child for "looking for love in all the wrong places." He writes, he speaks for groups, and he's a sweet guy. And though the topic speaks to the self-destructive way people often deal with relationships, the principle applies to much more.

It applies to me. I've spent years looking for someone to fill that role of nurturing mother. i just wanted someone to believe in me and not think i was a failure, think that i might be "good enough." i looked to my earthly mother, but she wasn't really capable of unconditional love and acceptance due to her own issues. When i was less than 5, my thyroid quit working. i became a round little ball of a girl. i remember walking around the house eating carrots, carrots, carrots, trying to lose weight, My mother would tell me that too much of anything was bad--look at horses, they eat carrots and look how big THEY are. Even apples. Pigs eat apples, and look how FAT they are.

My mother got me into a doctor to get treated--by the time i was in high school i was taller and reasonably lean. When not lean enough for my mother, she had her doctor prescribe me diet pills, as in amphetamines. When i had pneumonia with a 104 degree fever during Spring break of my senior year and lost 10 pounds, i remember standing in front of the mirror. "Dang, maybe i can barely stand up, but just prop me in front of the mirror!"

i weighed 115 pounds.

It's been a constant theme in my head ever since. Haven't managed to shake the feeling of failure. i think i have worked it through, but no. A casual word said and i'm a 6 year old trying to lose weight and failing again.

We look for love in many places that can't provide. Only our Creator God can love us like we need.

Anyway, read the book. It's good.

Skimmer's recap: went to conference. Met people. Bought books. Read most of one.

i can take it from a 3 year old...

More in the vein of "the things people say."

Standing in the store checkout, a cute little girl was seated in the cart behind me. She was playing with a cute squeaky duck given to her by her mother/grandmother pushing the cart. She was thrilled to share this noisy joy and kept squeaking and squeaking the duck. i'm not one to ignore little kids in a store, somehow i always need to say hi or play peek-a-boo from behind a cereal box with the littlest ones. This little cutie would squeak her toy, then look at me and laugh. i had said hi, and now was saying, "How fun that is!"

She looked at me with her dimpled grin and said, "Crazy lady!" i said, "Funny, that's what my grandkids say!" She of course had to laugh and repeat "Crazy lady!"--over and over. Her mom/grandma whispered something in her ear after the 45th repetition, and the little girl changed to, "Lady. Crazy. Lady. Crazy." until reprimanded to stop.

Pretty silly, pretty funny. Something about me just invites brutal honesty. First my hair, now this.

Speaking of education...

So i just completed the first of any grapevine education i have had to this point in my life. This brings to mind the fact that i was quite happy to not be a part of the Back To School shopping crowds this year, Jarel having graduated a year ago.

Some of you already know what a struggle school was for him--he was born nearly 3 months prematurely to a cocaine addicted mom (not me--i run more to chocolate addictions.) This combination of unfortunate events caused some learning disabilities for him, and he went through all his years from kindergarten through high school in our district's Special Education program. In the beginning this meant Special Day Class, where he stayed with a group of about 10-13 other children within a year or two of his grade. He would be mainstreamed into a "regular ed" classroom for a part of the day, maybe for Physical Education and math, something like that.

By the time he was rounding the bases toward home and finally in high school, his math skills sort of stalled--his teachers made some attempts to help him, but he obviously needed more if he was to fulfill the requirements the California schools expected of him. i didn't totally understand that--they had placed him in a setting for students with learning issues, some pretty severe. And yet they expected him to compete with the mainstream students and get the scores those students needed to get their diplomas.

Here the adoptive mom (me!) got a little crazy and started writing letters to The Governator, Arnold Schwartzenegger. But she also decided to enlist a little aid--and it just so happened there was a Friendly Neighborhood SCORE! tutoring center. So this mom called and set up an appointment, and explained, "We need him to be able to graduate and get a diploma." They said, "We can make that our goal."

i have to say my boy is a sweet hearted guy, and adults tend to really like him. But these adults helped him more than just improving his math and English skills through the program they tailored to his needs, they were positive with him. The adults, the high school and college age tutors, all who worked with him, made him feel like just another student, rather than the Special Needs guy who has to be in a special class.

Being Special Ed can be tough on a kid--they're singled out, they're *Different.* It's not enough that they struggle to keep up with the requirements for their grades, but they have to run the gauntlet of Being *Different.* That's a lot to deal with, knowing they need the smaller class environment, but being pointed at, laughed at, and made fun of by the mainstream kids.

The people at SCORE! made it pleasant for him to show up, positive for him to be there. They welcomed him, treated him like a valuable person. What it did for his self-esteem was worth every bit as much as the program they made for his academic needs. Maybe more. With the help of quite a few teachers, the SCORE! tutors, us, and lots of patience and prayers, he made it out of high school with a diploma.

He still struggles--as some of you know, he has a job now. He's bussing tables at Fresh Choice. He gets a paycheck, he gets tips. We're still working on the concepts of budgeting with him, but then his dad and i are still trying to get those same concepts and we're waaaay over 19 years old. But it isn't just about the numbers alone, the grades alone, we're trying to help mold a productive and independent member of society here. And he's gonna be a good one.


*this is a sponsored post.
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