MacGyver and miracles | Independence Day

June slid by at about a hundred and ten miles and hour - in the blink of an eye, it seems, I've arrived in July, so fast that I skidded four days in before I even deployed my landing gear.

I'm so excited for the coming weeks ahead.  Sometimes it's easy to get in a rut, whether creative, spiritual, or anything else.  It seems like everything you're working for, everything you desire has been put on hold, and all of your projects and dreams blocked off by a brick wall.

And you wait, and wait, and try to be productive while waiting, and the waiting begins to weigh on your soul so heavily that you feel like just. giving. up.

You begin to feel a hardening of your heart, a skepticism that is so convenient to waiters, serving as a shield from the pain that hope so often is.

Then things start to happen.  Little things, and bigger things, and things they call miracles.

The miracle, for me, is when I'm given a supercharge of hope and faith by something completely unexpected, out of my control, and at the time, devastating, which turns out to be perfect in every way. Perfect timing, perfect orchestration.

Yesterday I was on my way to town and stopped at the Post Office.  I ran in and chatted with Ron the post master for about five minutes, grabbed a Nickel's Worth, and skipped back to the car.  

Turned the ignition.  A horrible sound issued from the front end of Bunbury, a gurgling, chugging sound, which to me intimated that the End of the World had come at last.  

In the passenger seat, my mom looked at me and I looked back.  Dismay hung like a dripping quilt.

We limped him the short distance home, stalling, chugging, back up the long driveway and into his berth in front of my bus.  I popped the hood and the two of us peered underneath at the vast wilderness of gleaming and dusty and greasy components that form that mysterious thing, a car engine.

One thing we're good at is troubleshooting.  A horrendous rushing sound, audible over the chugging and gurgling, pointed to a puncture, perhaps of a vacuum hose... within seconds, my mom had pinpointed the minuscule rubber elbow joint (for the uninitiated - like me - that's called a PCV valve) that had a neat hole blown in it, air rushing out like sixty.

We so happened to have a roll of an amazing substance which is now highly classified as our Secret Awesomeness Weapon (just kidding - it's called high-temp adhesive tape), which was soon brought on site and being applied by our four expert and intrepid hands.  I turned the key.  Bunbury purred to life with aplomb, the horrifying sounds he had just been emitting the thing of a dark and distant past.

MacGyver, move over.

July is going to be amazing.  Life is a brilliant thing.

Every moment.  And don't you ever forget it for a second.

Have a fantastic, glorious Fourth of July!

Today, perhaps in between the sparklers and watermelon and friends and family, take a minute to think of the things you love the most and what they cost.  Perhaps they cost someone else - a great deal.  

Perhaps you can thank them.

Today's the last day to enter the giveaway...  If you haven't yet, swing by here and take a peek - you just might be picking out a beautiful new Kellie Falconer skirt as our winner!

Putting On the Ritz

{listen as you read!!}

Take a pinch of nearly all of your favorite things, add a generous dash of Christmastime, and stir it all together.  That was Saturday night for me.  Served at the historic Bing Crosby theater.

I found out about the concert just days before it opened, but as soon as I saw it I knew I had to go or perish in the attempt.

The Spokane Jazz Orchestra was performing a Glenn Miller tribute concert, featuring Miller's arrangement of the Nutcracker suite.

The Nutcracker and I go way back - nearly all of my favorite Christmas childhood memories have either George Winston's December or the Nutcracker suite as the backdrop. The Russian Dance is my favorite movement - it never fails to make me want to do a crazy waltzing romp like I used to;)

And Glenn Miller - no explanation needed.  Glenn Miller is the ultimate!

I had no idea he had arranged the Nutcracker.  It sounded like a match made in heaven.  And my incredible brother said he would take me.

So I reserved the tickets, laid out the new green dress, and listened to Stompin' at the Savoy and A String of Pearls till my feet were dizzy.  

The excitement of getting ready, driving the hour and a half into downtown Spokane, seeing the freeway at night... might not be much to most.  I don't get out very often.

We arranged to rendezvous with Chip and Missy, sweet sisters and friends that I actually met through my blog about two years ago.  Chip is an wonderful accordionist, which is how we discovered each other;)  They brought a friend with them, and Aubrey and I also picked up our friend Christopher for the evening.  We had dinner at Subway, then the six of us strolled down the alien streets of the big city at night.  It was the perfect little mini adventure.

We stopped in an amazing bookstore to while the hour or so to go before the show started.  I was deeply engrossed in a marvelous book on the history of espionage most of the time... espionage is such a lovely word.  Implications aside, of course... and I totally want a wristwatch camera.  The glove-mounted handgun was cool, but a little impractical for my needs;)

Wandering around a giant bookstore at night decked in plaid, vintage jewels, and heels is almost as fun as descending on Subway in said attire.

Chip, Missy, and Yev started back to the theater early, and when my two escorts and I started back toward the Bing, we were having so much fun talking and looking and laughing that we ended up about three blocks behind the theater.  Under a bridge covered in grafitti. 

 Thankfully, I had a 2nd degree black belt on one hand and a GPS wielding bro on the other, and we made it back to the entrance of the Bing in the nick of time.  Whew.

We found our seats, half blinded by the brilliant light and rush and din of people inside.

Then the show started.

And it was gorgeous.  The Bing was stunning.  The music was sparkling, the guest vocals marvelous.

And I was really and truly sitting there seeing it all.

The grand finale, In The Mood, brought the house down.  I almost choked up it was so tremendously superb.  Glenn Miller is very near to my heart as, beside the sheer fact of his spectacular sizzling jazz, my great grandfather was a complete fan.  The first time he heard Glenn Miller was at a Paris concert after being the sole survivor of an air squadron shot down over France in '44.  I never met him, but I know he would have been loving it as much as I was if we still had him.

And the last time I saw my amazing great grandmother, one of her last days on earth, she was lying in a hospital bed in her living room, ravaged by stage 4 cancer.

But she was dancing to in the mood. 

A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H

I got a gal in Kalamazoo

Don't want to boast but I know she's the toast of Kalamazoo!

Zoo, zoo, zoo, zoo, zoo...

Our Fourth

Tasha's adorable Bonnie dog...

Independence Day was quiet and sweet for my family.  A BBQ at our house - with an early evening walk before and a rather hysterical photoshoot involving large and beautifully rusty heavy equipment.

This girl is simply too adorable.

Not to mention, a great sport:D  Love you, Tasha!

Back to the Barbecue...

The friends, family, and fellowship, the red white blue and hot dogs is great.

The history of our Nation's birth and heritage is grand.

But most of all, I'm celebrating the freedom I and my family have in Christ, which can never be taken away and that will never die.

May we always remember those who gave their lives that we can enjoy all that we've been blessed with today.  And may we always be faithful to stand up for what is right, regardless of the cost, so that our children can thank the memory of our stand for truth also.

Our fire pit rack was handcrafted by a local welder - it's such a great BBQ tool!

Badminton time!

 Hope your Fourth was filled with fun, family, and thankfulness, wherever you live!
(almost two gallons of homemade chocolate ice cream didn't hurt, either!)