Welcome to Roxy's Dollhouse

Roxanne loves to play with her dollhouse. I hope this fictitious household is not modeled after our own, because it typically houses quite a disfunction family. The parents spank each other, the kids jump off the roof, the babies eat pizza in the bathtub and trap eachother in the toilet, and the grandparents spend the night. By the end, a monster truck usually ends up destroying the entire house, killing the entire family. If you play dollhouse with Roxy, you'll be her best friend forever.

The Roller Derby

Perhaps the roller derby is something everyone should experience once in their lifetime. Perhaps not. If I ever experience it again, I would prefer to be one of the ones in metalic spandex and rollerskates. Last night Matt and I, along with my old college roommate, Julie, and a date of her choice, cashed in my lucky Dr. Sketchy prize by going to the roller derby. Although, this rowdy crowd was no place for a weak soul, it was a people watchers paradise. Matt and I debated over weather or not we were odd. He claimed that everyone there was very odd in some way. I claimed that actually, WE were the odd ones, since we were the only ones that were not odd (but even that could be debated). While Matt tried to figure out the rules of the entertainingly violent game, I tried to text messages from my cell phone to appear on the big screen. Apparently "show me some roller boobies!" was not acceptable. However "Naomi luvs Matt! XOXO" was acceptable and appeared on the screen, so that thousands of viewers in the audience could witness my proclamation of love for Matt, for a total of about 1.2 seconds.

After the event, I found myself a new boyfriend and Matt found himself a new girlfriend. Based on my appearance in the photo, I think I was pretty lucky to be able to wrangle in this bodacious referee. But, I think I was even luckier that I ended up with Matt at the end of the night.

The Lord's Supper

While sitting in church on Sunday I pondered the question of why communion tastes so dang good. I’m not catholic- so communion isn’t about a styrofoam wafer and sip of bitter wine. No- communion at our church is a chunk of crusty french bread dipped into a goblet of sweet grape juice. I tend to pull a bigger chunk of bread off of the loaf than Matt does, because he is always modest like that. We also dispute about the right time to go forward to partake. I want to go right away so that I don’t have to wait in line. Matt, on the other hand, likes to look prayerful and contemplative before going forward so that he doesn’t appear hasty. I feel that being hasty about receiving something sacred is justified, since we ought to be eager to participate- not reluctant. But the point is not when we partake, or how much we partake of. The point is to let the moist juicy bread sit in your mouth for a while and relish its unparalleled goodness, knowing that it is small piece of our sweet Jesus.
That one morsel of juice soaked bread is better than anything I’ve try to satisfy myself with. It is better than a ten serving bag of peach rings. It is better than a mug full of melted butter, chocolate chips, maple syrup and cornflakes all mixed together. It is better than a whole can of sweetened condensed milk. It is better than peanut butter, cream cheese, and chocolate syrup spread on top of vanilla wafers. Maybe it is because I don’t have the option of grabbing another bite, and so I am forced to truly enjoy the one bite in my mouth, instead of thinking about stuffing another handful in. Or maybe it is because it is a treat I can’t buy for myself. I can’t pick it up at 7/11 or Starbucks, or Crispie Cream. So when it is offered to me, I receive it as a delicacy knowing that I may not be able to enjoy it again for weeks. Or maybe it is because the opportunity to partake usually comes unexpectedly. I am always pleasantly surprised to see the communion table elegantly set at the front of the sanctuary. Jesus said “take; eat; this is my body”. Perhaps that single thought makes it taste so good. It’s perfectly portioned; it can’t be purchased; it’s unexpected; it’s Jesus.
I’m reminded of Jesus not only during communion. He allows me to partake of him daily. Every unexpected blessing I encounter is actually a piece of Jesus. It’s not the imitation sweetness that I eagerly strain to squeeze out of life; it’s the true sweetness that naturally and unexpectedly drips into my hands- these are the perfectly allotted portions of Jesus himself. Not too much, so that I feel sick- just enough for me to savor its goodness, not knowing when it will occur again. It’s a rainbow in the sky, a deformed person in the grocery store, a romantic dream at night, a perfect scrabble bingo, a thunderstorm, a genuine hug, an appearance by a wild animal. It’s perfectly portioned, it can’t be purchased, it’s unexpected; it’s Jesus. Such experiences as these are daily bites of the Lord’s supper that I intend to savor as I contemplate the privilege that it is to partake in communion with Jesus.

Dr. Sketchy's 2 for 1.

Last night's Dr. Sketchy's event was doubly fun- because there was double the models (that's a total of four tasseled pasties)! Posing for us was an extremely sassy duo called "The Junkettes". It was also doubly fun because I won triple the prizes!!! Among the prizes were two tickets to the Denver Roller Doll Derby, which is this Friday. I hope Matt will come with me. I anticipate that it will be extremely blogerific, so stay tuned!

Here is what I came up with... click here to view my drawings (contain nudity)

Snuggle Chair


My mom gave us this awesome chair that she bought at the auction. Rocket and Roxanne say it is the best snuggling chair in the house.

Acting Like a Six Year Old
As of yesterday, Rocket has been with us for six years. I took this picture of him and told him to act like a six year old. His incredible maturity shows, doesn't it? Then I told him that I couldn't believe that I have been a mom for six whole years. He said that actually I have been a mom for ten years since I have been a mom to him for six years and to Roxanne for four years. Alright. Did I mention how good he is at math? I told him that when he was born six years ago, I had no idea that he would end up being the best little six year old boy in the whole world. He grinned. Then I asked him if he knew that I would be the best mom in the world. He thought for a while and said he couldn't remember. But I do. I remember that he did think I was the best mom in the world. I knew he thought that because as soon as he came out of me, he would gaze at my face like this:
It was the most precious, heart squeezing look that I had ever seen in my entire life. He has adored me ever since. One day he will realize the truth about me... that I'm not the smartest person ever; that I wouldn't win American Idol; that I am not more beautiful than any other kindergartener's mom; and that I can't really paint anything in the world. Roxanne, on the other hand, has always known the truth... Oh well. We promised Rocket that he could choose any restaurant for his birthday dinner. He thought long and hard for two second and then said "IHOP". He knew that "IHOP" serves "Horton hears a who" pancakes, which shouldn't be considered a dinner, but we complied anyways. In this last picture, he seems to be acting like a five year old again.... but who wouldn't with a dinner like that?

Photographs by Rocket

Rocket took these pictures of us as we were relaxing on the couch before we left for church on Sunday. He says that we look like the sweetest married people in the world. We are.

Rocker Fairy Girl

This was my project for Saturday. It is the first real paying mural job I have had since moving to Colorado. I haven't been pursuing the mural business too actively though. I would rather make necklaces and paint at home. I am putting the mural career on the back burner until both of the kids are in school. Then I can go paint while they are in school, instead of leaving while the family is all together and having Matt watch the kids. Also, that way Matt won't have to know when I have a mural job, and I can keep all the money. Hehehehee.... (so I can buy him an extra good Christmas present, of course!!)

The rocker fairy girl is done with an airbrush. Her tattoo says "Genevieve", which is the name of the little girl who's room she is in.

Sisters

I never had a sister. To tell you the truth, I sometimes feel like I was deprived. When I got married, my husband gave me two sister-in-laws and then shortly after, my brother gave me another sister-in-law. But, all of my sister-in-laws had sisters of their own, and didn't really need another one, so I never tried pushing the sisterly bond. On Monday Sarah H. (Luke's wife, pictured above) came over and spent the night. On Tuesday morning, as all the children were running a muck around the house, I covered my head under my pillow to block out the noise and light (I often end up with a hangover when I hang out with Sarah). Then someone crawled into bed with me. It was Sarah. We layed in bed together for as long as we possibly could. We talked about cold sores and zits, and then she told me that I needed to pluck my eye brows. I was about to say "I know! I know! You b*^#@!", but then I realized that what she really meant was that she thought of me as her sister. It reminded me of this summer when Becca (Matt's sister) purposely drew marker on my face. Before I punched her in the nose, I realized that she too, was thinking of me as a sister. Then I cut her hair this last month, which is something that only sisters and hairdressers do... and I am not a hairdresser. It feels good to have sisters. And since I don't plan on giving Roxanne one, I just pray that she will find some sister-in-laws as good as mine- ones that will insult her, draw on her, and everything else that good sisters are supposed to do.