God, Jim Carrey, and me

Often, I will scroll through my Facebook feed and amidst the funny memes, the lunch updates, and the humble-brags, there will be prayer requests. Some of the requests are small, such as "pray that I can find my keys so I can get to work on time." Others are giant, mammoth requests -- prayers for healing from devastating diagnoses of cancer or other life-altering situations.

It's one of the things I like most about social media, its ability to bring together a community of believers for common good. These requests are non-denominational. No one posts "If you're Catholic, please pray..." And often the poster will ask for prayers or positive thoughts, acknowledging that not everyone subscribes to the same belief system. 

I try to respond to most of these requests in some way. For the "lost keys" category, I might just click the "like" button. For others, I respond "JMJ+" which is my own shorthand for "Jesus, Mary & Joseph, pray for us." The particularly heartbreaking requests will often elicit a unique response, letting the poster know that I will be keeping them in my prayers. 

That's the easy part. 

The hard part is actually praying. Between the requests that are posted via social media, the prayer intentions that are delivered daily via my parish's email prayer tree, and those personal encounters I have with people who share need for prayer, sometimes I feel like Jim Carrey in the movie "Bruce Almighty."

Jim Carrey is a frustrated news reporter turned God. In one scene, he is overwhelmed at the volume of prayers being sent to him. They crowd his thoughts and when he tries to organize them onto post-it notes, his entire apartment is blanketed in tiny slips of yellow paper. Sometimes the need for prayer in my world is overwhelming.

I don't have a formal system by which I handle prayer requests that come to me, but lately I've become more conscious of the commitment I'm making when I tell someone that I will keep them in my prayers. One woman I know kept a journal with lists of people she was praying for written down. Her family found it after she had passed away. 

Though the idea sounds like a good one, I'm not a great journal keeper. What I'm finding works for me is silently saying a prayer immediately after I'm asked for it, praying it as I'm typing my assurance of prayer. For some requests, that's all that I feel drawn to give. Sometimes the people in need of prayer will float to the top of my mind during the day and, again, I silently lift them and their concern up in a quick prayer. Other needs for prayer weigh heavily and I find myself spending more time in dedicated prayer for these needs, often during weekly Mass. 

As Jim Carrey learned in "Bruce Almighty," a blanket YES is not the appropriate answer to all prayer. I don't expect magical or even miraculous resolutions just because I prayed. But as overwhelming as the needs may be, I try to be thankful for those people asking for prayer because when I agree to pray for their need, I am gaining another opportunity in my day to be in contact with God. 

Will everyone stop eating Sheri's M&Ms?!

About a month ago, over on the 4th Frog Facebook page, we conducted an M&Ms vote. It was a spin-off of the elections, so I asked people to vote for M&M Plain or M&M Peanut.

It would appear that my readers are the independent sort because there were a lot of write-ins. Here's how the returns came in:


Peanut M&Ms - 10 votes

Pretzel M& Ms - 7 votes

Plain M&Ms - 4 votes

Peanut Butter M&Ms - 5 votes

Almond M&Ms - 2 votes

Dark chocolate M&Ms - 2 votes

Mint M&Ms - 2 votes

Coconut M&Ms (blech! Sorry Leah) - 1 vote

Because we were having so much fun -- and because the Halloween candy was on clearance at Target -- I decided to give away one 1 lb. bag of M&Ms to one lucky voter. Sheri, who has been a 4th Frog reader for as long as I can remember, was the chocolicious winner. I promised to send her a bag of her favorite M&Ms, the pretzel variety.

I bought the bag and put it in a hiding place at home until I could get to the post office. Apparently, it wasn't hidden well enough because some kids who will remain nameless found the bag and ate all of Sheri's M&Ms.

So I bought another bag and hid them really well that time. The trouble was that I knew where they were and in a moment of uncontrollable weakness, I opened the bag...and ate every last pretzelly chocolate bite.

Intending to make good on my promise, I bought a third bag of Pretzel M&Ms and tucked them away in a different hiding place. Ironically, instead of the Halloween decorations the original bag had, this one was sporting a Christmas theme.

Friday afternoon I was all set to go to the post office and mail Sheri her prize. Well doggoneit, someone had opened that bag, too.

So I am devising a plan to get Sheri her Pretzel M&Ms. I have several options:

1. Buy another (4th!) bag of Pretzel M&Ms and drive directly to the post office.
2. Buy another bag of Pretzel M&Ms and store them in an empty tampon box, which I'm certain at least 3/5 of my family will not go near, until I can get to the post office.
3. Skip the Pretzel M&Ms and send Sheri a Target gift card so she can buy the M&Ms for herself.

Somehow I am going to make this right. Even if I have to eat 3 more bags of M&Ms to do it.

My kid is not a pothead

but she plays one on stage.

Actually, that's not quite true. She plays a "poser stoner." That's a kid who acts like she does drugs and drink just to be popular, but who doesn't really like to party.

Annie is in a show this summer called "Facebook Me." As part of the character development exercise, the director of the show told each of the kids to create a Facebook page for their character, which is what Annie did this afternoon while I was on the couch trying to recover from 3 hours and 30 miles in the car. 

As I was sitting there, mindlessly staring at the television, a text message popped up on my phone. 

"Are you with Annie?"

YES.

"OK. Don't tell her I'm texting you. And I'm only doing this because I would want someone to do the same for me."

OK. What's up?

"She's inviting people to friend a kid on FB named Jessie. Can you go to that page?"

OK.

So I click over to Annie's page, see the post that says "You should friend Jessie Wilson. I hear she's really cool."  When I clicked on Jessie Wilson's link, there was a picture of my child. And on the info page of the profile, it said things like: 

Interests:  Partying hard and smoking pot --- and a bunch of other things that I don't remember exactly, but that I would not want people thinking about my kid.

Fortunately, I knew two things. First, I knew that Jessie is Annie's character and that she'd mentioned they were supposed to make Facebook pages for the characters.

Second, I know my kid and I know that she is a tea-toteler and not interested in drugs or alcohol. (Seriously, I know everyone is shaking their head at my now, but honestly, it's true. The boys? Yeah, I will worry about them some day.)

So I explained to the texter -- whom I love for looking out for my kid and whom I will not name because I protect my sources -- that this was a character for a play. 

"OMG! I was freaking out, thinking 'Not Annie!'" was the text reply. 

Then I insisted that Annie delete the page. This did not go over well. She did it, but with much frustration and muttering about people not trusting her and not knowing that she would never do that or say that stuff. 

And she posted this on her Facebook page:

To everyone who went to Jessie's facebook page:
It's for a character. I am not doing any of the things on there and I would never. As part of the show I'm in we had to make facebook pages for our character and my character is a poser stoner. I AM NOT DOING ANY OF THAT. Please, do not worry, it's part of a character building exercise and "Jessie" is a girl who pretends that she smokes. Hence all the nonsense on her page. Sorry for alarming you all. I did not create a fake name and facebook and even if I did, I wouldn't be stupid enough to advertise it on here.

Finally, I called the director and explained that while I thought the character development idea was a good one, I thought maybe the girls might need a little more guidance. I can see it now:

"I'm sorry Annie. We cannot admit you to Best College Ever because this Facebook page clearly shows that you are a substance abuser."

Yeah. So please, everyone just know: My kid is not a pothead. Honest. But I'm so glad to know that there are people keeping an eye on her.

The Liar's Club

The sight of my bandaged hand seems to invite a lot of concerned and curious inquiries as to what happened to me. The answer -- carpal tunnel surgery -- is kind of boring and getting a little monotonous. So I thought maybe I should come up with some answers that are a little more colorful and interesting.

See how these grab you.

1. Someone tried to take the last Diet Coke, so I punched him.
2. We were at the zoo and I got too close to the tiger cage just before feeding time.
3. I'm wrapping my hand right hand in solidarity with the lefties of the world.
4. I was high-fiving Robbie. The kid doesn't know his own strength.
5. Tattoo gone wrong.
6. My kids aren't buying "Mommy's legs are broken" anymore.
7. It's an old Facebook injury.
8. It's a new diet technique. Everything I put on the fork or spoon falls off.
9. I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.
10. Oh nothing. I just like the attention.

Do you have any others that I should add to my repertoire?

Trip down Memory Lane, driven by Facebook

A former co-worker of mine grew up in the same city where I lived for about 3 years when I was little. I saw him posting to a group on Facebook called "Memories of Growing Up in Richmond, Indiana." Despite only living there from ages 6-9, I do have many memories of those years and it's been fun reading through what others remember as well.

This little excursion via Facebook reminded me that I did a real-life trip down memory lane earlier this summer with Annie. We went to Richmond to check out the Chocolate Trail. While we were there, I took the time to show Annie some of the places I remembered from my childhood.

Places like the house I lived in, which smelled like incense when we first moved in. (An Indian family had lived there before us). It had an opening next to the fireplace through which you could crawl from the sunken living room into the kitchen.

I got my first kiss in that house. I was in the 3rd grade, wearing my pajamas. Danny Wissel had come over to our house with his mom. He kissed me on the cheek and I was in luv. (Note to self: Look for Danny Wissel on Facebook.)

We drove past the really cool dome house just down the street from ours. Except its not so really cool anymore:

I told Annie about the time my friend Paige and I went from her house to mine, walking across freshly laid asphalt in our bare feet. I still remember sitting on the edge of the bathtub, eating popsicles while my mom scrubbed out feet with lighter fluid. 

Annie almost didn't believe me when I told her about the day I walked two blocks away in search of the ice cream truck. I bought 4 cones with my own money as a surprise for my mom, sister and brother. But I couldn't carry them all, so I happily accepted the ice cream truck driver's offer to drive me home. I climbed aboard the truck anticipating how surprised and happy my mom would be at my generosity. That was not exactly her reaction. 

I remember Valerie Duffy's older sisters crying and carrying on because some guy named Elvis died. I didn't get it. 

Then Annie and I drove through town and found ourselves in front of St. Mary's, where we went to school. There used to be a metal jungle gym in the right-hand corner of the lot, next to the windows.

My teachers while I was in school there were Sister Julia, Sister Shirley and Miss Barth. Sister Julia had a plastic apple filled with peanuts. If you got the right stamp on your paper, you could go pick one or two peanuts out of the apple as a treat. No allergies to deal with then, I suppose. One day during indoor recess, someone broke Sister's plastic apple. It was replaced by a red and black plaid lunchbox. The neatest thing about Sister Julia was that she could eat anything because her taste buds had been destroyed in a car accident.

I was happy to find that the church was open. This is the church where I received my First Communion -- two weeks early because my baby sister was due on First Communion Day. It's the church where Fr. Van Benton scared the daylights out of us when he came out of the confessional and yelled at us in his deep and booming voice because not everyone had the Act of Contrition memorized. It's also the church where my dad and I would go to evening Mass twice a week when he was out of a job. 

We moved from Richmond at the end of 3rd grade. I wonder how my life would have been different if we stayed there? No regrets. Just wondering.

Vera happy news

for one of you, anyway. The winner of the Vera lovely giveaway is Hyvie! She is a teacher at my kids' school.

Before you cry foul, I used Random.org to choose the winner. Besides, she is a preschool teacher so she is in no position to give my kiddos any favors when it comes to their report cards. When she entered the giveaway, she said, "If I won the Vera bag I'd use it to carry books, magazines, my kindle and other stuff to the pool this summer!"

Well, get thee to the library, Hyvie, because you've got a brand new bag!

Now, for those of you who didn't win, look what "Vera" cool thing I discovered today.

If you "like" Vera Bradley on Facebook, then click the "downloads" link, you can select one of dozens of digital Vera Bradley backgrounds -- including the Viva la Vera pattern -- for your computer, iPad or mobile device. Click "downloads archive" to see all the backgrounds available. Best of all, it's free!

I set mine to Deco Daisy:

Put that on a bumper sticker

Maybe it's the result of being in a Facebook culture where short & catchy rules. Maybe it's just the way my ear hears things. But lately, I've heard or read things and thought, "that would make a great bumper sticker." So I made them. Or at least pictures of them.

What would you put on a bumper sticker?

Nervous chatter

In my recent post about why I love Facebook, I mentioned that it makes watching sports on TV so much more fun. It's been a critical part of my enjoyment of my Butler Bulldogs' dance through the men's NCAA basketball tournament. (Although I will admit not everyone is enjoying it; I've had more than one person tell me all my posts during the game are "blowing up my newsfeed.")

What in the world might someone have to say on Facebook about a college basketball game, you might wonder? Well, this:

Butler fans...time to get unleashed!

3 + 3 = Shelvin, my hero.

C'mon Dawgs! Rebound the ball.

Is it wrong that I'm enjoying watching the replay of that elbow to the nose?

Shake it off, Dawgs! Come back from the break and play your game.

Dear Coach Stevens: Time to reach into your bag of tricks...

3 is such a lovely number.

Rub some dirt on it.

ShelVINNNNNNNN Mack!

How is it half=time already?

We'll sing the Butler war song... (sing it with me...sometime take the next line...)

There's a reason they call them FREE throws, boys....

Time out. C'mon Brad, talk some sense into our boys.

7 is NOT a lovely number.

OK, let's make that the start of our run.

4 fouls on Macklin...let's do something with this.

Something bad is happening in Oz when Matt Howard starts missing free throws.

I don't know who you are #20, but I ♥ you!

Mike Magan is on his feet!

Andrew Smith...puh-leeeeze make these.

Hey -- put that #20 back in!

Nice pits, Billy Donovan.

Let Reggie ref.

YES! Shelvin!

Teamwork makes the dreamwork!

I don't know whether to sweet talk 'em or deliver tough love. So please, sweet honey Matt Howard, make these...or I will hunt you down and kick your patootie.

I'm gonna have to self-medicate to make it through this overtime.

Let's make some magic, Dawgs!

The bucket and the foul!

Tough D....no score...

Could someone please explain to me why Matt Howard is not shooting the dang ball?

GD* referees trying to decide the game. (*gosh darn)

This game is sponsored by the St. Vincent Heart Center and Grey Goose Citrus.

I think I might throw up. I can't watch. But I can't look away.

ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseopleaseohplease....

I need some O2. Stat.

Sir Charles, what do you have to say now?

Wonder if Brad Stevens needs to change his pants before conducting the post-game press conference? I think Mike Magan might.

Now, before you go thinking that I'm a bit nuts, it's not actually like I'm talking to myself (although that does fall under #10 on my reasons to love Facebook). I have friends on FB who are chatting it up too and responding to my posts (and I'm responding to theirs). For instance, someone suggested that the reason Matt Howard was not shooting the ball was because he was afraid I would hit him if he missed.

And I'm aware that the team is 99% probably not seeing/hearing my encouragment (though in this world of wireless technology, you never know). But it makes me feel better to put it out there in the Facebook universe. 

The next game is Bulldogs' second Final Four appearance in two years. The game is in Houston, Texas. But you know where I'll be -- in front of my TV and on Facebook.

10 reasons I love Facebook

1. Free Scrabble, with the board set up like a real Scrabble board.
2. I can keep up with brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles and cousins who live near and far.
3. Plenty of links to funny videos and interesting news stories.
4. It adds a whole new dimension to watching sports on TV. Gotta love the corresponding FB chatter.
5. It expands the number of people who read my blog.
6. Free stuff! Lots of companies offer freebies and deals just for "liking" their pages. 
7. Near-instant answers to questions like "what should I fix for dinner" or "is tomorrow an out of uniform day at school?"
8. Wide-reaching network of people more than willing to pray for things. All I have to do is ask.
9. Speaking of asking, need a costume for a school play? A used stroller for a friend? A movie recommendation? Just ask on Facebook!
10. It makes talking to myself more socially acceptable.

1am bonus reason -- Facebook makes insomnia less lonely.

How about you? Do you love Facebook? Why or why not?

If you haven't already done so, check out the 4th Frog Facebook page.

Things I think about when I should be sleeping

I'm not a great sleeper. If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you probably already know that. Maybe you're even tired of hearing about it. If so, just put your hands over your eyes.

I went to bed around 1am. That should be late enough to be tired, right? I think I was tired. But someone forgot to tell my brain that it was time to go to bed. My brain wanted to run and roll and flip over thoughts such as:

1. How much the bedrooms all need to be cleaned in the morning.
2. What we're going to do with the kids while I work this summer. 
3. BINGO - as in Scrabble. I see tiles in my head and with my mind's eye, shuffle through them to try to find a 7-letter word.
4. How tired I'm going to be in the morning because I'm only going to get 5 hours of sleep...4 hours and 53 minutes...4 hours and 47 minutes...
5. How I'm too hot and should go downstairs and check the thermostat.
6. How I should get up and go through coupons for the much needed grocery trip tomorrow.
7. How I wonder if anyone is on Facebook right now.

Eventually, my brain gave up and my body won. Until the dog came in and licked my face. I thought she needed to go out, so I got up and headed downstairs, expecting her to follow. Instead, she took my spot in the bed. Whose idea was it to get this dog?

It turns out I'm not the only one awake at 4:30am. Mike was downstairs watching television. Star Trek: The Next Generation.

Now that's enough to put me to sleep.

How Facebook saved my son's ear

Yesterday, Charlie started complaining that his left ear was hurting. Because his complaint came about 10 minutes before it was time to walk out the door for school, I smelled a rat -- or at least a faker. I gave him a dose of ibuprofen and sent him on his way.

No word from the school nurse yesterday. No complaints after school. He played without hesitation in his basketball game last night. (We won! On to the semi-finals!) He didn't say another thing about his ear and I forgot about it.

Until 3:30am. When else do those things flair up? I was asleep on the couch, so I didn't hear him calling for me at first. But eventually he got my attention and was obviously feeling the pain. I gave him some ibuprofen, pulled out the heating pad, and laid down next to him. 30 minutes or so later, he was still crying out, so I gave him some cold medicine to clear out any congestion in his head. Good idea, Mom.

Except that 20 minutes after that, he was crying that his stomach was hurting. Probably from all that medicine on an empty stomach. Ugh. I sent him to the bathroom. Rubbed his back when he returned, and headed for my own bed after he finally fell asleep.

(If you're still waiting for the part where Facebook saves the day, stay with me. I'm getting there.)

I try not to run my kids to the doctor for every little thing. But I have a rule for ear pain, coughs, etc. : If it interrupts MY sleep, off to the doc we go.

We've been down the ear infection road plenty of times before, so I was pretty sure that's what it was. So this morning, before I even got out of bed, I called the pediatrician's office and made arrangements to bring Charlie in to the drop-in clinic. I told them we could be there in 20 minutes, which was a little short-sided, given that I wasn't even dressed and we live 15 minutes away from the office.

Charlie and I were ready to go when I realized that Mike had gone to work in the car where I had left my keys last night. No problem. He works about 5 minutes from home. I called his cell phone to ask him to run the keys home.

Ring! Riiinnng!  Riiiiiiiinnnnng! His cell phone was sitting on the charger in the kitchen. (It really doesn't "ring," but I can't remember what his ringtone is right now. Probably some Star Trekkian sound.)

Crap. I called him at work, marginally optimistic that I would get through the after hours answering machine. No luck.

Now what? The doctor's office hours on Saturday aren't very long and I really wanted to avoid a more costly trip to the urgent care.

Enter e-mail, Facebook and Twitter.

I knew that Mike would likely see a message there on his computer at work. So I sent three messages:

E-mail: NEED KEYS. Mike, I need the keys to take Charlie to the doctor. Hope you see this.

On his Facebook wall: You have my keys. I need to take Charlie to the doctor. Please call/come home.

To his Twitter account: CALL HOME. YOU HAVE MY KEYS.

Sure enough, about 5 minutes later, he called and said, yes, he had my keys and would come home. However, I must not have conveyed that I was in a hurry because 15 or 20 minutes went by and he still wasn't home. So back to the technology I went.

Facebook: Almost home? (I was trying not to seem naggy.)

Twitter:  REALLY need to GO! (Obviously a little more impatient.)

Within a few minutes, he was home. Charlie and I were off to the doctor where she had to dig a bunch of wax out of his ear before she confirmed that Dr. Mom was right -- ear infection.

So thanks to Al Gore, Mark Zuckerberg and anyone else who had something to do with the invention of the internet, Facebook and Twitter, Charlie should be feeling better soon and I hope to get some sleep tonight.

Facebook, I thought we were friends

I love Facebook -- probably a little too much. But it's been such a great way for me to keep connected to my brothers and sisters, my bazillion cousins, friends I used to hang out at Mom's group with (before we got too busy being moms that we don't have time to see each other), old high school friends and 500+ other people that I've felt a need to be connected to. What can I say? I'm a social creature.

And probably like most Facebook users, I click those links to find out which Harry Potter character I am, what color my personality is, and tonight, who has deleted me as a friend. Turns out that last one was spam. I figured that out once it took me to some page that wanted me to complete a survey before it would show me my results. I didn't take the survey and clicked out of the app. But by then, I'd already given it permission to access my information, make posts to my wall and who knows what else.

Fast forward to a few hours later, after I woke up from my evening nap, and I realized that the stupid app had posted the spammy link on my personal page, on the 4th Frog page and on the page I manage for work. I clicked delete on those posts, but knew I needed to go in and remove the entire application.

This is where I started feeling icky about Facebook. Let me be clear, it's not Facebook's fault. I (half) read  those agreements about allowing access to my profile, my high school SAT scores, and my last performance review when I clicked on "how much do you know about Spongebob Squarepants" and "which Glee character would you mash up best with" and others. What I didn't realize -- or at least pay attention to -- is that fact that long after I clicked "allow" on those applications, they would live on in my Facebook account and had my permission to access my information.

When I went in to my account privacy settings to delete the "who deleted you" app, I saw the list of all those stupid quizzes I've taken. There were actually fewer than I would have expected. What was really unsettling, though, were the apps that had accessed my information and data long after I figured out that my personality is green and I'm Ron Weasley. I could also see that some of the apps, like my favorites Scrabble and "God Wants You to Know," had never accessed my data.

So I removed about 30 apps I'd previously granted access to, ignored requests for 40 more, and changed my Facebook password for good measure. I'm still a fan of Facebook. But I'm also a more cautious and more aware one as well.

Ideas for 3 a.m.

I know it seems hard to believe, but sometimes I find myself awake in the middle of the night. 3ish in the morning seems to be my favorite witching hour. So last night, while I was awake at 3:41am, I started thinking that maybe I should make a list of things that can be done in the wee hours of the morning.

1. Pack lunches.
2. Move the stuff in the washing machine to the dryer.
3. Fold the stuff you just took out of the dryer.
4. Blog.
5. Bake chicken.
6. Catch up on DVR'd episodes of "Chopped" and "Drop Dead Diva."
7. Count how many hours of actual sleep you got and fret about how many more hours are left until you have to wake up -- again.
8. E-mail your co-workers so they can be uber-impressed with the hour at which you were up working.
9. Pray.
10. Hang out on Facebook and see which of your friends are insomniacs, too.
11. Play online Scrabble.
12. Check your work e-mail and calendar to see if you can call in "exhausted."
13. Catch up on your blog reading.
14. Check the kids' backpacks that you forgot to go through before bedtime.
15. Pay bills.
16. Initiate an amorous encounter -- unless the reason why you're awake at 3am is that there are kids sleeping in your bed, which kind of automatically kills the mood.

It seems like I'm forgetting something. I know there is at least one more thing you can do at 3am...

Oh yeah. Sleep.

Cleaning (virtual) house

I should be cleaning real house, but virtual cleaning is easier and doesn't make me sweat. One of my Facebook friends mentioned that she pared down her list of Facebook friends. It's never occurred to me to do that.

I currently have 538 Facebook friends. Some of them are people I see regularly -- people from church or work or the kids' school. Others are friends from college and high school. A few are Mike's friends from high school who happen to like me too.

In the couple of years I've been on Facebook, I don't think I've ever unfriended anyone. Mostly because I don't want anyone's feelings to get hurt, though the reality is that they would probably never even notice. The chances are pretty good that I have been unfriended and have remained clueless about it. I have "hidden" a few people so, while they remain my friend, I don't see their updates.

Sitting here, I can think of a couple of people I might consider weeding from my Facebook friends list. Of course, I probably can't remember most of who those 538 people are. Is it time to clean my Facebook house?

It feels kind of like when the volume of catalogs delivered by the mail lady or the number of e-mail advertisements in my in-box gets too overwhelming, I go and unsubscribe from a bunch of stuff.

Is there a Facebook friend threshhold? If I pared down my list of friends, would I simultaneously be cutting back on my Facebook time, too?

If you Facebook, have you ever gone in and cleaned up your list? Was there any fall out? Did you feel better after you did it?

(And if you do Facebook, have you "liked" the 4th Frog fan page yet?! Sorry, blatant self-promotion there.)

Let's play...

..."What in the World Wednesday" over at the 4th Frog Facebook page.

I have to confess that I'm having a hard time coming up with pics that I think will stump people. Then I had a "scathingly brilliant idea" -- anyone watched "The Trouble with Angels?" I'll accept submissions for "What in the World Wednesday." Simply take a mystery shot and an answer shot and e-mail them to me at 4thfrog70 at gmail dot com.

Have fun with it, but keep it G or PG rated, please. (I won't put up anything that's not, but I don't want to burn my little eyes looking at racy pictures!)

What in the World Wednesday

Just posted a little mystery game on the 4th Frog Facebook fan page. Jump over to join the fun!

Must not sit

It's Saturday at 8:11am and I have already made the first mistake of the day.

I sat down.

My to-do list is a mile long and quite evident as I look around the house at the kitchen that needs to be picked up; the piles of laundry waiting to be washed, dried, folded and put away; the blankets strewn about the family room. Don't even get me started on my bedroom. If I were my mother, I would have a fit at the condition of the bedroom. I could go on, but it will start getting depressing.

Even if I look out the window for a little mental escape, I see grass that needs its first mowing and last fall's ornamental grasses that need to be cut down before they away across the neighbors' yards. Then there's the preparing a spot for the tomato and pepper plants I bought from the school flower sale.

There is so much to get done in one short weekend. Add track practice, a birthday party, church, youth ministry cosmic bowling and a track meet into the fray and I'm exhausted thinking about it. Of course, the kids can help -- with some pointed direction and much oversight.

The key, really, is to not sit down. But the family room couch is so inviting, its cushions caved in just the right place for my rear end. And if that's not enough, the laptop is sitting right there, calling to me to just check my e-mail for a minute or two that soon becomes 45 or 60 or 90.

Today, though, I am determined to fight the good fight! I will make a to do list! I will not be distracted by a movie on TV or by catalogs that come in the mail! I will turn off the computer and leave it turned off! I will not sit down! I will be productive and I will feel good at the end of the day for all the things I've accomplished!

Right after I pop over to Facebook.

I did it (mostly).

I did it -- I managed more than a whole day without the internet. (Ok, I did sneak online on Mike's iPhone for a minute in the car today.)

I have to say that I am amazed at how often my mind went to, "Oh, I'll look that up online." From checking the weather to wondering what hours the bank is open to thinking about options for Charlie's birthday party, hopping online is really second nature for me.

Even my friend Beth called to ask me about basketball camp carpooling. Usually, we'd work in out via e-mail, but Beth said "I figured I'd better call since I know you're not checking your e-mail."

We went to Mike's parents for a quick visit to celebrate his birthday (which was yesterday). It was really freeing to be there without a laptop in tow. And when I was tired, I just went to bed. Instead of stopping to check my e-mail/visit Facebook/send a few Tweets before turning in for the night.

At brunch this morning, I was telling my in-laws about my self-imposed internet moratorium. Charlie suddenly got up, put his hand across his cheek so it extended from his ear to his mouth, and froze. I asked him what he was doing. He said "a cell phone pose." Get it? I said "self-imposed" and Charlie heard "cell phone pose!"

Anyway, I'm happy to be back online. The break, albeit brief, was good. But at least now I can easily figure out what tomorrow's weather will be.

Is it all downhill after "I do?"

I have six kids in my house right now -- twice as many as I am accustomed to. Four of whom are playing "Colonial War," which apparently involves running around the house shooting each other, careening dangerously close to the brick fireplace, and falling with a forceful thud when they've been hit. And two silly pre-teen girls who insist on talking to each other like dopey sounding cartoon characters.

So what's a mom to do but find solace in Facebook. Ordinarily, I visit Facebook to update my status, post a blog link and maybe comment on one or two other people's walls. But today, while I was trying to stay visible enough that the kids wouldn't run completely wild, yet removed enough to maintain my sanity, I ventured beyond the first two or three updates and read on down the page.

That's how I came to ask myself the question, "does romance really go downhill after the 'I do's?'"

I saw that my brother-in-law had officially declared himself "in a relationship" with the woman of his current dreams. Following the link to her page (she'll be sorry she friended me now), I saw that he had given her several virtual hugs -- from the all-natural hug to the sunny hug, his affection for her is clearly spelled out on her Facebook page.

"Hmmm..." I thought to myself, "I wonder what Mike has sent me?"

Usually, I let all those Facebook requests and invitations collect in the pending box on my page. Then when I've got a bunch of them waiting there for me, I ignore them all in one fell swoop. What if I've been unknowingly deleting his tokens of affection?

So I opened my Facebook page and searched all those waiting invitations. Nope, no hugs for me from my beloved. Instead, what was there awaiting my acceptance was an invitation to join him in Mafia wars and an R2D2 icon. I thought about that for a while.

Is that evidence that all the romance is gone? Perhaps. Or, after all these years of marriage, maybe I can recognize words like "Mafia" and "Star Wars" as part of my husband's language of love.