Have you ever been pregnant? If not, do you know someone who is? Or has been recently? Did you notice that they weren't quite.... right? I mean, you'd ask them something, and they'd start to answer you, and then completely... oohh. My toe hurts. I wonder why... maybe I have a sliver from when I... Oh wait. What was I saying? Oh... Um... DANG IT!
Of course, this is exaggerated for your entertainment, but you get the idea. I'm finding more and more that this is the case. In case I've not told you (which you will please chalk up to what I call pregnancy brain, not that I intentionally didn't tell you), we're expecting a Sohl-baby in October. Yes, this baby will be born in our new locale. And, if I haven't already told you (which again, we'll give to what will now be call PB -unless I forget and call it something else- and an online hug if you weren't previously aware <---->) we're moving. Yep. And while I'd prefer not to specify where in this forum at this point in time, let's just say that I'll continue to endeavor in learning mas espanol. :)
So the mind. My Sohl-mate and I were discussing what an amazing and scary thing the mind is. With all our advances, and understandings of so many things, we really don't understand much about our bodies. And even more impressively, we understand very little (relatively speaking) about how the mind works. Granted, we've made amazing strides, and years from now, if the internet is still the forum it is, and people were to read this, they might find this musing quite amusing.
What strikes me is that while I understand why we can't do more to understand the mind (or brain more specifically), we don't know more about it. I would guess that therein lies the problems. We really can't be dinking around inside someone's brain, because if we're dinking with the wrong stuff, we just may kill them. However, if we dink around with a used (nice way of saying a dead person's brain, I guess) brain, we don't see the immediate effects of manipulation. I can imagine it's incredibly interesting and frusting thing to be a scientist or doctor studying the brain.
Wow. That was fairly indepth and logical for me at this time of day. I need to stop and grab a cat nap, but I'll have more revelations soon! Hugs!
Monday, March 17, 2008
She's right...
A dear friend recently reminded me that I have good stuff to be posting about. And, since I do, I decided to come out of hiding, stretch my mind a bit, and get in a good blog or two.
We've kept our Sohl-selves busy with moving preparations. With the flight date just over two months away, we're sorting, cleaning, and preparing our house for sale. We're deciding which of the items that seemed incredibly necessary at some point over the last few year, are in fact, junk; which items have potential to be important to us in three years and will go to storage; and finally, which items are so necessary that they'll make the journey before we will.
Our first pack-out is scheduled for early April, and while I'm convincing myself that God will handle it, and He'll give me grace and strength, and He loves me inspite of my impulse buying... I'm working through the stress of that idea. I know that thousands of people move with companies just like I'll do, and that even the most unorganized of them all still seem to make it; I'm convincing myself that I'm somewhere in the middle of the curve, and that they won't talk about what a unclean, ridiculous pack-rat wife I am. *sigh* I am a work in progress, right?
We've shown the house about seventeen individual times, and had one open house. I'm prayerful that God will allow us to sell the sucker before we move, and that should we sell enough in advance, we will be able to stay in it until the last possible second. All we need is one offer, as I'm constantly reminded, and while I know that should bring peace, it seems to add fuel to my churning mind. "Haven't they seen anything on HGTV? One offer? We need multiples, to start a bidding war! We need a home staging expert, with a possible landscape expert." Meanwhile, the other half of my brain screams, "You can't be serious!?! You don't have yellow daisy wallpaper and rotting carpet! You don't have four-foot weeds in the yard, accented by broken screens and poor lighting. You don't have pictures of every person you've ever met posted on anything that will stand still, and you don't have toys strewn recklessly. No sinks of dirty dishes, no foul smells, no wandering pets, no funky colors. Give me a break!"
Aren't our minds interesting things? Women have an uncanny ability to argue. What's more, they can argue with themselves, which is why I think we're portrayed so often in romantic comedies as completely unsatisfiable and slightly nuts. And again I say, "She's right!"
I was able, however, to have a friend shower me with unexpected, but much needed prayers. And I appreciated the thought and the words, and admired her obedience. Thanks, friend, for your insight. All I could think was, "She's right."
We've kept our Sohl-selves busy with moving preparations. With the flight date just over two months away, we're sorting, cleaning, and preparing our house for sale. We're deciding which of the items that seemed incredibly necessary at some point over the last few year, are in fact, junk; which items have potential to be important to us in three years and will go to storage; and finally, which items are so necessary that they'll make the journey before we will.
Our first pack-out is scheduled for early April, and while I'm convincing myself that God will handle it, and He'll give me grace and strength, and He loves me inspite of my impulse buying... I'm working through the stress of that idea. I know that thousands of people move with companies just like I'll do, and that even the most unorganized of them all still seem to make it; I'm convincing myself that I'm somewhere in the middle of the curve, and that they won't talk about what a unclean, ridiculous pack-rat wife I am. *sigh* I am a work in progress, right?
We've shown the house about seventeen individual times, and had one open house. I'm prayerful that God will allow us to sell the sucker before we move, and that should we sell enough in advance, we will be able to stay in it until the last possible second. All we need is one offer, as I'm constantly reminded, and while I know that should bring peace, it seems to add fuel to my churning mind. "Haven't they seen anything on HGTV? One offer? We need multiples, to start a bidding war! We need a home staging expert, with a possible landscape expert." Meanwhile, the other half of my brain screams, "You can't be serious!?! You don't have yellow daisy wallpaper and rotting carpet! You don't have four-foot weeds in the yard, accented by broken screens and poor lighting. You don't have pictures of every person you've ever met posted on anything that will stand still, and you don't have toys strewn recklessly. No sinks of dirty dishes, no foul smells, no wandering pets, no funky colors. Give me a break!"
Aren't our minds interesting things? Women have an uncanny ability to argue. What's more, they can argue with themselves, which is why I think we're portrayed so often in romantic comedies as completely unsatisfiable and slightly nuts. And again I say, "She's right!"
I was able, however, to have a friend shower me with unexpected, but much needed prayers. And I appreciated the thought and the words, and admired her obedience. Thanks, friend, for your insight. All I could think was, "She's right."
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