Down Memory Lane

Fair warning: Grab some popcorn...

If you can, try to imagine a world where everyone keeps the Sabbath holy and celebrates the Feast of Tabernacles. That's part of what the World Tomorrow will be like, but I got to experience this now! As obvious as that is--because Israel is a Jewish, sabbath keeping nation--it was still a shock and quite the experience to spend a couple weeks in a nation who not only knows about the Feast, but celebrates it too. Of course, it didn't live up to the World Tomorrow standard, as the Jews keep the Feast (and even the sabbath) differently. For example, on Shabat, the elevators were put on "auto pilot" so you didn't have to "work" to press any buttons.

 

The "booths" that the locals built for sukkot were interesting. They set them up right outside their restaurants and stores, spilling over the sidewalk, reaching the edge of the street. Even our hotel had a couple of them. While our booths are hotels where we live temporarily for 7 days, their booths weren't for "dwelling" in. They only ate meals under them. We figured it must be because scripture says, "And all the congregation...made booths, and sat under the booths."

A booth in Jerusalem that sits on the sidewalk outside of a store.



This was a booth at Megiddo and looks much nicer than those in Jerusalem.



For a couple weeks, we lived at the Eldan hotel, perhaps similar to a Days Inn, or Comfort Inn, but with breakfast for kings! Just about every morning, they served pasta, eggs, bourekas (cheese filled pastries), and shakshuka (eggs in tomato sauce), all in chafer dishes. Breakfast was "open" at 7 o'clock; if you were at the door when they opened, you could expect cold food.
The dishes needed at least an hour to heat up--just saying, as it was something that took us 7 days to learn. This "hot" bar extended into a "cold bar" with all sorts of cheeses, cucumbers, tomatoes, and some kind of cold fish. I couldn't tell you much else of the cold bar, as I never stopped to tempt myself. On the other side was more bread you could ever attempt to eat--bread rolls, sweet pastries, and a loaf with a knife for you to cut your own slice, baby-bear-just-right size. They also had fruit, cereal, and granola.

Our first morning at breakfast, David B joined us. He came back to the table with a cute little portion sized cup (as you see them


Do you have any others?

sold in stores) of Yoplait's yogurt. We asked him where he found them, and he said he just asked if they had any yogurt. The man had seemed a little upset that he'd left out an item--or perhaps he thought David was being ungrateful, asking for something else. The assistant reached for the phone on the wall, tapped some digits, and began hebrewizing something about yogurt. Before David knew it, he was in yogurt-heaven. All because one man asked about yogurt, they continued to add yogurt to our breakfast buffet. Nice! And now we know for sure, Yoplait's gelatin is kosher.

It was a little strange to have the pasta dishes for breakfast, but throughout the feast, we learned that our hotel was disguised as
a restaurant by night. Then it hit me: the menus for breakfast were dinner specials the evening before! While it was strange--because who does that?--I still enjoyed eating dinner for breakfast. I think I also appreciated that they "waste not, want not."


What seemed to me a most out of place item at breakfast (aesthetically anyway), just next to the drinks counter was a fridge with sodas: Mt. Dew, Diet Cola, Pepsi, etc. It had a clasp with a big padlock on the side of it. For all
those soda drinkers, there was no way to be sneaky about your "sinful" pleasure. It was obvious; out came the ring of keys jingling across the room. Finding the right key, unlocking, waiting for the selection to be made, re-locking, and finally, testing the lock. Shake, tug, yank. Then everyone's eyes were back into their own business.

For our first sabbath, we were too excited to spend the time in the hotel--services didn't start till 1:00, and so a sabbath stroll down the streets of Jerusalem was in order.


Sabbath morning, Sam and David stop for a picture in front of the Eldan (El-Dan) hotel.

If we did nothing else the entire time, I can say I've walked down King David street in Jerusalem! Across the street, at the corner, was the mall. Being shabat, everything was closed, so we decided to walk through. 


Mall entrance

At the entrance of the mall, they stop to entertain their peers....

 

...no one.  

Keeping Shabat in Jerusalem was awesome. Here in the states, there's always crazy looks when explaining to your boss why you have to leave earlier on Friday in the winter months ("sunset to sunset" not just "Saturday"). But in Jerusalem, on Fridays, all the shops and restaurants begin shutting down at 3:00. They have to get home in time for Shabat themselves--though not to fear, there was a gas station, a 24 hour Market, and a very few 24 hour restaurants that were open on the Sabbath--we learned this only after we'd had our gas station water-and-yogurt dinner the first night. Other than those handful of places, it seemed the entire city was shut down. No dancing and singing in the streets. No cars. It was very peaceful. Just to mention it, on weekdays, people have no hesitations about using
their horns. They honk as soon as the light turns green. They honk if you're diving slowly. They honk when they want a pedestrian to cross. They honk when they don't want you to cross. They honk when they're going to allow another vehicle to get over. They honk when they don't want another vehicle to get over. So on the Sabbath, it was nice to get a break from all the honking.  

Services were held at the Gesher Center where the hall was like a theatre. The space for fellowship was in the rows, on the stairs (where we were asked no to, but it seemed it couldn't be helped), out in the halls, or at the very front of the stage. If we weren't a close family before, we are now!

Saturday night, we enjoyed dinner with our good friends:

The following day, Sunday, we had a tour with Dr. Mazar. What a woman! She looked at us as though it was an honor to give us the tour! Very gracious, she was. She gave us at least 4 hours of her time for the tour, which is incredible! As she began, we were standing at the center of the Ophel, where many significant landmarks were visible.



The tour begins.

Halfway through her introduction, Dr. Mazar stopped. She caught a glimpse of John, a student who worked for her on the 2007 (or was it 2008?) excavation. "Oh. John," she said. For a very brief moment, the rest of us disappeared. As if the sound of her own voice startled her, she blinked a few times quickly to stay the tears that were brimming, and she repeated very lightly, "Hi John." Pause. "I didn't know you were going to be here." She looked pleasant, calm, and her eyes sparkled--partly because of the tears. The rest of us suddenly reappeared, and as she gained composure, she felt the need to explain the sudden burst of emotional surprise, though her explanation turned into a mumble and soon faded out. True friends. It was such a delightful and very touching moment!

I'm a big sap! 

 

During the feast, two other tours were scheduled: Megiddo and Cesarea were in one tour.

 

This was the "gate" to the ancient city. 

 

I couldn't resist! Though the Sea must not have been feeling it like I was.

The second tour was at Masada (Metz-adah) and the Dead Sea.

We hiked....in flip flops. Wouldn't recommend it.

Incredible view from the top.

An Ellen that bobs.

We thoroughly enjoyed the tours and would love to have seen more sites like this in Israel. But instead, we had three entire days throughout the feast that we were free to roam wherever we liked! We hiked up the Mount of Olives (which is just that: a mount--or hill), visited the wailing wall, and went down to the the Old Market--there's a story for you!

The Old Market is an alleyway that is full of shops, selling you name it! Going down those alleys was like walking into an ocean of people that slip around, under and sometimes over other people without skipping a beat.

It was too crowded for Sam's liking, but he consented because I really wanted to go. It's here that you can bargain for things--perhaps they get the term "jew em down" from here. It was an exciting scene for sure. I was so eager to get into my bargaining; I turned and stopped into the doorway of the first store I came upon. I asked the man for a small replica of the ark of the covenant. It must have been a pleasing request. His finger shot up and he said, "wait right here! For you, I have just the thing!" He came back with a small ark-figure. "Solid gold," he said. Immediately, whether he was telling the truth or not, I knew he was going to want too much for it. The original price was 17,400 sheqels. "But for you, 800," he said. He began nodding his head like: Hands down, done-deal, best price, you want it, it's yours, sold! 800 sheqels

is about $210. I was absolutely not paying that. I said, "twenty sheqels." He laughed. He plopped the heavy figure in my hand and said, "For you, 300 sheqels." That's quite a discount--only $80. Still, I was thinking of spending something like five or ten dollars. I can't help it if he went to grab the most expensive thing he had! I tried to hand it back to him, but he wouldn't take it. They've got skills! So I placed the item on a ledge and said, "Twenty sheqels." He got mad at me and yelled, "What? Do you think I stole this from my mother?! Go to bed already! Go to bed!" I had to laugh at the expression, but I wish I would have offered the guy 40 sheqels. Would it have mattered? If I were selling my car for $4000, and a guy offered me $1000 for it, I wouldn't take it. If he added an additional $1000 to his offer, would I take it then? No.

It was hard to get used to the sheqel system. Meals were anywhere from 54 to 120+ sheqels. It's automatic for me to assume "dollar" when seeing a number after a meal...or rather before a meal (Hebrew reads from left to right). "$54 for a burger?" Or "$20 for one bottle of water?" After the initial shock of it, I reminded myself that we weren't using the dollar system. But even so, the 54NIS for the burger was $14. And the 20NIS for water was $5. So on the whole, things cost more over there anyway.

Since I'm not always one to readily try new flavours, and I wasn't sure what kind of traditional meals to expect in Israel, I was surprised to discover that it was very similar to America. Typically, anywhere you travel, you'll  find a "burger and fries" on the menu, but overall, I found that it wasn't so much the food that was different, rather the Kosher law that separates theirs from other cuisines. When you order spaghetti, you know you're getting cow, not pig. However, they also take a literal meaning to Exodus 34:26, "...Thou shalt not seethe a kid in his mother's milk."

And so, at all kosher restaurants, you cannot order spaghetti and expect to put cheese on it. You couldn't have macaroni and cheese with a steak. If you ordered steak and a baked potato, they would not bring you butter. In the kitchen, they cannot use the same knife they used for the butter, for the steak. They even have two different refrigerators for the cheese and meat--that's right, they can't even be stored together. Which explained why there was no meat at breakfast (fish is apparently not considered meat). It seemed because of the law, they had a lot of starchy meals--a lot of pasta and cheese, pasta and potatoes, and pasta and bread dishes. Because of my partiality to good ole American cookin', I enjoyed their cuisine very much. But it's probably a good thing we had to walk everywhere.

The language barrier made things interesting, too. It's odd, because although we were the "aliens," I got the impression that the locals were the ones feeling uncomfortable. Even though they spoke some English, anything outside of ordering a meal, or discussing how to pay the bill, was avoided because they didn't have the vocabulary for it. Therefore, they tip-toed around looking like, "I don't know. Please don't ask me anything. I just don't know."

As exciting and thrilling as it was to just be in Jerusalem, the reality is that it's a very dirty city. Some places are cleaner than others, but more often than not, garbage was seen gathered along the sidewalks. Cats were in and out of restaurants just kind of loitering.

All the buildings are made of stone; and they don't paint any of the buildings, so the whole city is yellow-ish brown. After visiting with some of the brethren, and wondering "why did God choose Jerusalem?" it was a much needed reminder that it is New Jerusalem that has been chosen.

On that note, I'll end our walk down Memory Lane and hope that you've enjoyed some of our experiences from Israel as we saw them. To see the rest of our pictures from Jerusalem, if you haven't already, you'll find the albums here (part 1) and here (part 2).

So until next time, happy trails!

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

It's hard to believe the Feast is already over. Everyone says it, I know, but it's true. The feast was on my mind every day for at least three months. Now what? Well now I have memories from the feast to take it's place.

But before I begin with my account of the feast, I must tell you of the very important lesson we learned prior to--which I'm sure could have been learned no other way than through this trial.

Perhaps many of you know that Sam's first name is not "Sam." It's Nahum. Samuel is his middle name--per his birth certificate. And since passports have to match the BC, his passport reads the same. However, when booking the flights for Jerusalem, I failed to give any attention to this and booked the tickets under "Samuel Nahum."
A week prior to the feast, this was brought to my attention. It's not a problem, says I. Who goes by "Nahum?" But the more I pondered the situation, the more I worried, is it a problem? I panicked for a couple of days, and then decided to "be safe" and call Priceline (who we booked with). The agent told me, "Don't worry, for a small fee ($30), we'll change the name on the ticket. Let me call the airlines to get things worked out for you." Great! I was at ease. She was to call me back to assure me of the new changes--and then charge me for the service.

Two days later (Friday), I get the call. For reasons that would take too long to explain here, they couldn't change the name on the ticket. I was advised to call TSA and airport customs--which I did. Customs had no problem with it, while TSA suggested bringing some extra identification. When I asked about international security policies, I was steered in a different direction. So as advised, I called the French and Israeli embassies in the states, but they were dead ends. Being a Friday afternoon with only a couple hours till sundown, I decided I had pulled enough of my hair out, and should probably relax for the Sabbath. But I suddenly had an idea--Google! I googled my problem to see what I could find. Every scenario I read about with tickets that didn't match passports, ended in tears and disappointment. I decided not to tell Sam about my google finds--negativity only breeds more negativity. So I worried in silence.

The Sabbath was just what we needed. I hadn't planned on telling anyone about the events, but it was so ever present on my mind that it just came spewing out! And I'm so glad it did because God provided us comfort through the brethren and in our fellowship.We slept good that night having been encouraged to trust God to part our Red Sea.

Two days later, the day before Atonement, I suddenly had a brilliant idea. As if to say, "God, thanks for your offer, but I think I can handle it from here," I called Priceline back, explained the situation to a different agent and said, "so how about you just cancel our tickets, and then reissue them under the new name?" Genius plan, yes? No. Our tickets were not refundable and for other small-print reasons, the plan wouldn't work. Just then, I realized what had happened--my faith had wavered. And just then, the agent asked me, "Well, what are you going to do." I was a little surprised, because normally, they rush to get off the phone to answer another call. After realizing my weakness, I quickly asked God to supply the faith I didn't have and I answered the man: "I'm going to show up at the airport and hope that they let Sam board."

"They won't," he said.

There it was, the big test. The man dogmatically told me that they would not let Sam board the plane. My heart sank. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. I had squirmed and struggled, trying to find a way around, under, and over. Nothing.

"What are you going to do?" he repeated.

We could have taken his suggestion and been "safe." He reminded me of our "better" option: "Get credit with us, and get new tickets--only having to pay the difference, and a cancellation and rebooking fee." I only repeated myself, and added "but thanks for your help." Again, I thought it best not to tell Sam about what this agent said. My faith had been shaken, and I didn't want to cause him any more stress than what I'd already caused. 

As Sam and I continued to encourage each other, we realized that as much as we wanted to go to Jerusalem, that wasn't the issue. It was a matter of keeping the Feast. And so we planned that if they wouldn't let us board in Nashville, we'd go back home, and leave for Ohio on Sunday. If they didn't let us board in Chicago (our next stop), we'd rent a car and drive down to Ohio. If they didn't let us board in Paris (another stop), we'd cross the Channel and keep the feast in Folkstone. No matter what, we were going to be somewhere God placed His name. The fact that we weren't going to miss the feast, no matter which way the path turned, was a comfort.

We concluded that if God didn't want us in Jerusalem, we wouldn't have been accepted to go there in the first place. We can't grow without trials--what a wonderful way to keep us focused and humbled. So the next few times I went to God in prayer, I specifically asked God that every security department we had to pass through might look on us favorably.

The morning we left, the sun was just coming over the hills. It was a beautiful morning, and my eyes rested on the sky. I happened upon 3 shapes in the clouds in this order, as one dissipated, another appeared: 1) an eye. It made me feel that God was watching us and was aware of the situation. 2) The mount of Olives. It made me more sure that we'd be keeping the feast in Jerusalem. And 3) two arms in a cradled embrace. It made me feel God would keep us in His protection all the way to the feast and back. I know this sounds cheesy--it almost feels cheesy writing it. And I'm not saying these were signs. But whatever they were--if even just my imagination--they were comforting.

The entire trip to Jerusalem was more than smooth--it was actually pleasant. We arrived to Tel Aviv with not a single problem. That night in the hotel, I realized God answered my specific prayer. Not only did they stamp the passport or just say, "Next!" but every official who had to look at our passports made some kind of friendly banter with us. Talk about looking on us favorably! Coincidence? I think not!

There were so many lessons to soak up from this trial that made our feast a smash from the beginning, but one of the most important that I took from it is that of ultimate control. You can exercise as much as you want, eat as healthy as you can--does that mean you won't get sick? You can take all the precautions riding your bicycle, wearing as much protective gear as possible--does that mean you won't get hurt?
No matter what you do, no matter how well you do it, GOD is in control of what actually happens.  He lends us things, and gives us certain abilites--so we must assume responsibility--but the ultimate control lies with Him.Trusting God to continue to make the earth rotate is not something I worry about because it's obvious that I have no control over that. But what about those things that God entrusts me with--do I still see the need for God in them? 

It was a great way to begin the feast. Stay tuned; the rest of the story is yet to come!

A gallon of water a day...

makes the headaches on a fast go away! Or so, that's what I've heard. I've never been one to experience extreme discomfort during a fast--other than those stomach pangs from hunger of course. However, three years ago on Atonement, I suddenly got a pounding headache--miserable!--that completely took away from the day. And ever since then, it seems anytime I fast, there's a headache that decides to sit on my head.

I've heard from a few different sources that drinking a gallon of water before a fast will help. Turns out, the day before the fast isn't the time to drink it--no, that didn't work. Then I heard the secret is TWO days before the fast. This year, (for Atonement) I've decided to put the gallon-of-water method to the test. And since one of my goals this summer has been to drink more water, I figure I've had great practice.

Today, then, is the two day mark. Morning came and "glug-glug." Gross. Water in the morning--blah.

Breakfast time--a few more glugs. Not bad.

I lugged my jug around the house as I finished up packing for the Feast, as I walked to the mailbox, as I took Sam's suits to the cleaners.

By lunchtime, I had what seemed to be a half gallon left. Not too shabby! That wasn't too hard--a half more to go.

I toted the jug with me to voice lessons, taking a gulp here and there.

Suddenly, it hit me. I raced down three flights of stairs to get to the only bathroom I knew of at the school. It makes sense--you put a half gallon in, it's gotta go somewhere.

Back to voice lessons. A few more sips. I swished my way home, reaching for the jug at every stop sign.

Dinner time. I looked at my jug. That's funny. It doesn't look like I've had much since lunch. I realized that these gallon jugs are deceptive! Notice, the top is narrow--so after just a few gulps, it appears you've had a lot. But as it gets closer to the bottom, the wider the jug gets--taking you longer to "make a dent."

So here I am, staring at my water jug, with a seemingly endless bottomful. While it doesn't seem to be going down any, with each swig, I can feel it getting lighter and lighter.

I'm expecting my night to be full of tip-toeing to the bathroom. But if it means a headache-free Atonement, it's more than worth it.

Overdue...

...for a post, that is.

It's that time of year when Feast-fever really kicks in. And it's kickin' over here. July and August seemed to be relatively slow months. There was plenty of time for leisurely reading, preparing for a visit from relatives, movie nights, bike rides, bird-watching, piano playing, sewing, and anything else one might think to do with time on their hands--on top of all the regular house chores. But all of a sudden, someone mentions, "it's only 4 weeks till the Feast" and suddenly, I'm busy! And not just with a mental to-do-anytime-list, but all these things suddenly come up:

I need a new suitcase for traveling, the fan upstairs needs a replacement, the car needs a new part, there's a work conference to attend, the lawn is growing overnight, the laundry pile looks larger than normal, weeds are taking over in the rock beds, the neighbor will be out of town for a few nights and needs things taken care of, a spokesman's club ladies event is scheduled (considering travel, it's usually a weekend ordeal for us), a new Royal Vision arrives, the Trumpet goes to social media where I must participate, my shoes suddenly fall apart, the garbage is overflowing, and my sleep duration goes from 8 to 7 to 6 hours.

However, I can be pretty extreme about a lot of other things, so I do fairly well managing these extreme bursts of business.

This morning was an unexpected surprise. I must have made Sam's breakfast in my sleep, because there's not a whole lot about 4:30 a.m. that I remember. When I eventually made it to the kitchen, Sam was gone, coffee was gone, and breakfast dishes were at the sink. There wasn't a text from him saying anything taste out of the ordinary, so I guess four years of making the same breakfast pays off--I can do it in my sleep. Usually, I get up at 5 and go through my
waking up process: make the bed, make Sam's breakfast, make Sam's lunch-to-go with snacks, and run on the treadmill. After I see Sam out the door, I have some personal time and then breakfast. Usually, by 9 or 10 in the morning, I'm ready to hit the gym. However, this morning, I peeled my eyes open to see a blurry 7:30. I forced myself to my feet. I felt heavy like a bag of rocks. I managed to make it to the living room, where my face met the couch. I crashed. Suddenly, my eyes shot open--It was 8:00 already! I jumped up and immediately started a load of laundry. By the time the washer stopped, I was awake enough to realize I'd forgotten to actually put the clothes in the washer.

But those who are early risers, I'm sure you can relate here: getting up later than normal (if not 3 hours, even 30 minutes) seems to make the whole day feel off balance; feeling rushed for time at every corner. Breakfast was at 10:00 today. Lunch at 2:00. Blah. The odd times even made my meals taste different.

Even though things got done, the entire day was pretty much a slummin' dummin' day--my term for not very enthusiastic. And being only 4 weeks before the Feast, I don't need to have anymore of those unexpected surprises.

Anyway, here's just a very brief pictorial summation of things that have happened over the past two weeks:

We watched a lightning storm from our front porch one night.

 



The Crepe Myrtles bloomed.

The flowers at the end of the drive really took off! And the clematis--a Spring flower--suddenly bloomed again. Nice (but definitely strange) surprise.

  



Sam trimmed the bushes.

God provided a suitcase (looks brand new!) at Goodwill for us. Since we'll be flying to our destination this year, and getting sucked into the baggage fees last year, we decided not to take any more than one case each (plus a carry on if needed). Sam has had a huge suitcase for years now that is a perfect size for longer trips like this. I, on the other hand, don't. Granted, I usually dont' pack much. But Sam couldn't imagine being able to fit two weeks worth of items in just one little bag, so he issued a mission: find a large suitcase that matches his (in size). New luggage of a large size costs more than either of us wanted to spend (over $150!). Still, the standard size suitcase is 28" (maybe 30"). Since we weren't necessarily looking for "new," we searched craigslist, ebay, amazon--you name it!  Soon, I was hitting the thrift stores in town. I found this one at Goodwill--by itself, it was hard to tell what size it was. Only $10 though, so I bought it.

The new one makes ours look like a little carry-on! It's HUGE.

And finally, you know how some people take their golfing super seriously?

 

Not my Sammy! In fact, were it up to him, he'd probably never swing a golf club (....well....). Yet, because his company calls for it on occasion, he makes himself present. But on this one golfing occasion (his second time round), he surprised himself and did very well on the course, and actually had fun! He had taken a golf lesson a few months before, so he was excited to see that what he learned (and applied) paid off.



 

And now that I've realized it's only 3 weeks till the Feast instead of 4, I've suddenly gotten busier--is that possible? Depending on how busy things get, you may not hear from me till after the Feast.

 

Until then, as always, happy trails!

Siblings

We had a visit from my brother, Jordan, last week. What a wonderful treat!

He arrived early Thursday morning and like a good sister, I made him breakfast. And like a good brother, he ate it.

He had just been to a concert (Boston) and relived it all for me--and after singing along at the concert in my kitchen, I was hoarse too (and stayed pretty hoarse for the next couple days). After which, he found the piano and began playing some tunes. We had a good 30 minute laugh over just how out of tune Kimball is! Because I only tinker (and perhaps I just don't have the ear for it), I don't notice how bad it really is. But notice, Jordan makes it sound so good!

When Sam got home from work, we decided to go out for our first drinks with Jordan--finally! Turning 21 is a big deal. Jordan and I followed Sam to Buffalo Wild Wings 

and ordered a few appetizers to go along with our drinks. Cheers!



After getting stuffed, we got back home and it was time for Sam to give Jordan a 3D experience! They watched Avatar (one of Sam's favourite movies) on Sam's fairly new 3D tv.  

While they watched the blue people/animals, I was able to get a few house chores done.

The following day was Sam's "office" day at the house--to get all of his paperwork from the week done. Well, apparently, Ellises can be rather loud when we get together (okay, even when we're not together, lol). So what a perfect excuse to go ice skating!

After our yummy breakfast of waffles,

there was peace and quiet for Sam as he pined away in his office, while Jordan and I roared in our crazy laughter all the way to the rink and back!  

Between our laughing spells, we listened to (and jammed along with) some old favourite hits that I hadn't heard in forever. We sported our shades passing people (I'm wearing Jordan's 3D glasses he got from a theatre. He's wearing his safety glasses. Super cool.).



We arrived at the rink in one piece. :) We were the first ones on the ice and practically had the rink to ourselves the whole time! There were about 15 people including us. Can't complain about that!

The rink is only open for 3 hours at a time, so after our full three hours on the ice we'd had a lot of our energy sucked out of us with the addition of a few scattered bruises. But as always, it was worth it!

I didn't get a picture of dinner, but I fixed barbecue chicken, peas and corn (upon request), and sweet potatoes. Delish! Oh, and we had my famous key lime pie for desert--finished off by none other than Jordan! 

We had a Bible Study the next day so we had to get up early. I think we all slept pretty good that night--but had a hard time getting up in the morning. It was a long day--but great! I found myself hogging Jordan..."everyone, meet my brother, Jordan!" Everyone was so warm and welcoming to him. And our good friend Kristen was back in town--it's great to have her back in the area! For lunch, we went out to Ruby Tuesday's. Fellowshipped, had the pm service, fellowshipped more then trekked back home.

After our goodbye hugs and invisible tears, Jordan was on his way back to Kansas.







Through Jordan's stay with us, we discovered that Jordan and I are twins--only five years apart. What do they call that? Just "siblings" I guess.

Happy trails!



Boys with Toys

Okay, so it's finally time to relay the story of Sam's new bike. Typically, "new" in my language means "new-to-you," however, this time, I really mean new!
First things first: back in August last year, Sam purchased a 2003 Harley Davidson Night Train (100th yr anniversary edition). Since I don't know much about bikes (only, don't drive them into a tree...those who know the story can laugh), all I can really say is that it had two wheels and an awfully thin seat--somewhat akin to sitting on a bicylce tire. But most importantly, the price was right! It was the first motorcycle we'd purchased since we've been married.

It wasn't too long before he was ready for a new scrambler.

Now, I've purchased things off e-bay before, but to sell I hear it's not necessarily free. And since "free" is me, I opted for creating an ad on good 'ole Craigslist. We had the ad posted for four weeks with no bites. In the meantime, we have a local Harley Davidson store only 7 miles down the road from us. How convenient for Sam as he likes to stop in and make an occasional appearance to get the scoop on what's new and to keep his eyes open for a bike that might have his name on it. On one of his recent visits, he mentioned to the owner that he was trying to sell his 2003 Night Train. Glen asked him what he wanted for it and Sam told him (no, I'm not telling you all the details!), after which Glen said, "I can sell it for you."

After four weeks of no success on Craigslist, I wasn't too optimistic that Glen could sell the bike for the price Sam wanted. When dealing with things like money, contracts and signatures, Sam likes to have another brain in the mix--just in case he misses something (and for
extra wisdom ha ha!). So of course, we talked about a final price that we wanted to sell it for--at least get out of it what we paid for it. So, we entered "the room" and as we were discussing the final details for selling the bike--the listing price, Glen's commission on the bike, and Sam's final cut--somehow, they'd managed to talk the price down. Glen kept asking, "But what's the least you would take? Remember, we have to sell it at a 10% increase for my commission..." So Sam kept reevaluating, just what is the least I would take? And he came up with a number lower than what we started out with.

Ecclesiastes 3:7 "A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak."
I decided this was a time to speak...

"Wait a minute," I said. "Glen said he could sell it when you gave him your original selling price. Why should we lower that? This is the price we wanted out of it. If it doesn't sell," I tried to jest lightly, "then Glen here isn't the salesman he thought he was." Of course, I didn't mean to be dogmatic about it with Sam or question his intelligence--because he IS the decision maker in this house--but I did mean to let Glen know that we weren't going to be suckered! Naturally, Glen backed up his original statement with, "yes, I'm sure we can get what you want out of it." To which Sam then felt confident in sticking with his original price.

If you've been skimming through the story so far, well here's the punchline: the bike went up for sale Friday afternoon and sold on Saturday! And we got the money on Monday. Either the right guy showed up at the right time, or the price was just too good to pass up. And perhaps God had His hand in all of it. But it put Sam back in the market for a bike--pronto.

As it happens, there was a bike at the local store that Sam was eyeballing. For a few weeks actually, he'd somehow manage to maneuver his way through the store just to stand next to it.

It's like when you're dating someone you really like: it's never good enough to be at an event together--you have to be close to them, where sometimes close doesn't ever feel close enough. And what made him like this particular bike over all the others, I'm still not quite sure. But why does anyone like one thing over another? Every time we visited the store, Sam would ask me to find the bike he liked--teasing me about my untrained eye. I used to be good at the card game "memory," and so I would go to the spot where I'd seen it before--left side of store, second row, first one--until they rotated all the bikes.

Upon selling the Night Train, Glen told us that if we wanted to get this other bike (a 2012 Deluxe), and if we were to do it that day (or relatively soon) we wouldn't have pay a certain fee (because of the turnaround). That fee happened to be a nice chunk of change. Since Sam had been interested in the bike for a while now, it's not like he had to make up his mind whether he really liked it or not--he'd already tried it on for size. But being a 2012 bike, well, you just don't buy a new bike! So it all came down to my number one priority: is it the right price?

Once again, Sam and I found ourselves in "the room" with Glen, ready to talk business, when suddenly, Sam stood up and said, "she's the negotiator. See what you can work out." And he left. Talk about being fed to the wolves... At the same time, it really showed me that Sam appreciates and respects my opinion in these matters. And since we're talking about a bike--something he drools over if it's the right one--perhaps he realized it was best that he not make a decision being in "biker-heaven" where every answer is "let's ride!" So he had me in there, knowing my mind wouldn't be clouded by motorcycle fumes. So there I was: a woman trying to negotiate with a man...about a bike. But perhaps my disinterest in bikes worked to my advantage. It's easier for me to say, "take it or leave it" and actually not get my feelings hurt if you leave it.

There was the list price.
Then, the price he offered Sam.
Then the price he dangled in front of me.

So I said, Here's how it's gonna be mister! Just kidding. I think I was polite. But I don't like bantering back and forth with prices (...so I guess I'm really not much of a negotiator after all). But it feels dishonest saying "I'll give you this much" when really I may be willing to give more for it. So I said, "We're talking about a new bike here. Who can afford that? We've got a budget, and a person can't just spend money they don't have. Now Sam and I have talked about this, and this is our limit. If you can't meet this, then I don't even want to hear a counter offer. It simply means, this isn't the right bike for us."


To make a longer story short, Glen made a few calls, and that was that. He got the price, plus tax. Unbelievable. Of course, Sam still had to make the final decision, and after another 30 minutes that felt more like five hours, he gave the final "let's do it!"

The proud owner of a Harley

The following week, Sam had some work done on it--oh don't you know, there's always some tweaking to do. The week after, he put some new exhaust pipes on it--gives it a more grueling sound. This week, he had extended foot pegs put on. And I'm sure in the next few weeks or so, he'll have more work done on it.

Boys with their toys.....