Frugalicious Friday- Car Paid Off!

Today is a historic day for me personally because we get to pay off John's car by making the very last payment, or overpayment rather!

Praise the Lord.

This has NEVER happened in my life. John's family owned their cars, but honestly in my family growing up, cars owned us. I practically grew up on a car lot. Ultra-fancy car lots mind you, where you just got a new car when you wanted. No biggie. Whatevs. Change it up!

I've driven a new VW Beetle (broke down constantly so much we called her Mrs. PacMan), 2 Grand Cherokees, Cherokee Sport, BMW's - well borrowed, etc.
My dad held every role you could have in the business. From dealer to manager to the number one salesperson for Mercedes Benz North America (several times).

Being in the car business in Houston is like being in a fraternity (kind of like Engineering). Everyone knows everyone. And then the corporations took over.... Now huge conglomerates own the dealerships mostly. And that sure made things interesting...
I get cars. From luxe to crap. So that's the backstory.

During our budget meeting last night when John read the last total off, I teared up. Amazing.

I'm going to get personal (not like yesterday don't worry) because I want someone out there to relate. In our marriage, we have purchased: 7 autos:
Hyundai Accent, Jeep Grand Cherokee, Mazda 3, Toyota Tacoma, PT Cruiser, Toyota Corolla (Ol' Smokey), and my current car the Honda CR-V (Big Red- because Leelah ate a wad of Big Red gum and jammed it in her car seat cup holder and smelled up the car). 
1 of those was a lease- YIKES.

John's favorite, his truck, was totaled in a car accident. It went from Toyota Tacoma to "ota Taco." No kidding. It was toe up. That's John's story to tell...

After the dreaded lease was up on my car, we traded that in on Ol' Smokey. We call her that because she was pre-owned and rental for smokers who left burns in the interior.

Now that car was a $19,000 '05 Corolla. Yes. You read that right. For those of you that don't know, that's called "rolling it in" and it's NOT to be desired. It's where you take all you owe on the car you want to trade in and put that into the total amount financed for the next car you are trying to buy.
 And then Ol' Smokey got wrecked during the worst Staycation in history in 2011. We thought she'd get totaled, but alas only 50% was damaged. Only 50%!?!?!

So being the nervous Nellie I can't shake, I implored Johnicles to become Ol' Smokey's owner and we traded in his PT Cruiser (terrible vehicle) for my brand new used 2008 CR-V.

So now, he drives O.S. and I drive B.R. and we've been paying down on O.S. like our lives depended on it. And today's the day we become owners of 100,000miles+ Ol' Smokey.

Johnicles "gets to" drive this and park next to Audis and Camaros daily. I love you John! He's the man and my hero.

We now have a Dave Ramsey car. I love it. Living like no one else y'all! And it feels good. Now time to save up for repairs! :)

Righteous Anger.

I hate to do this, but I'm going to go there. In my lifetime, I've had 10 eye surgeries and will need many more for my condition Ectopia Lentis et Pupillae which is "extremely rare." I want to worry that my sight might be under the control of the government, but my heart trusts in the Lord. Psalm 112:7. He ultimately has the final say on my health! The government cannot rule on that.

Have you read the Bible? 

 

Have you ever read classic literature!?????? 

Say you are not a believer and have not read the Bible. 

Have you read any of these?

1984,

Fahrenheit  451, 

Brave New World,

etc. etc. 

Do you not see the blatant as your face theme in these novels?

CONTROL. 

Do you really want the government in control of your health? Really. 

Really, be honest. 

I don't. 

But I understand how some, who have the kindest intentions, do not understand this as a form of control. They see it as a measure to help the less fortunate. Look, I'm all about that. I'm a Christ follower, and by the grace of God that is my mission to help those in need!

You need to know this is NOT what you think it is. And I'm not such a fool to believe in conspiracy, but I believe in TRUTH.

But again, my heart is steadfast, trusting in the Lord. He is the one who makes my paths straight. He knew how our government would decide this today. But He is the one who governs. He decides my plans! 

I don't like to polarize, but my heart cries out that this is maddening!

Righteous anger has a place today. 

If You Were Born in Texas...

You are not allowed to complain about how hot it is.

I'm pretty sure you don't hear Eskimos (Is that not PC now? Eskimos? What should I say Inuit? Or Intuit? Which one is the accounting software? Wait, don't they make quickbooks? I HATE ACCOUNTING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) back up, I'm pretty sure you don't hear Eskimos/Inuit people complaining about how cold it is.

Look, it's hot. Doy. It's Texas.

If you say how hot it is, then I'm going so far as to say that you are redundant.

You are committing a pleonasm. A superfluousity. Yeah, I can make words up this is my blog. I can blog like a boss!

So that is my PSA for the day:
It's hot.
Get over it.
You have 2 options:
Find a pool.
Take a nap.

Thank you.

Professional Reject.

I've been to Tennis Camp. Twice.

Both times, I circled "intermediate" as my skill level prior to attending.

Both times, the instructors/leaders of camp demoted me- each day- until I was with the 10 yr olds on a concrete/grass court.
I was in high school.
Yes, I still had my freaky rare eye disease that caused me to have trouble focusing.

I have trouble focusing and I went to tennis camp.

Tennis. Where a ball the size of a small orange can travel 90 mph.

I did get an amazing tan those summers. Honestly, it didn't faze me.

When I was, oh about 6-8 yrs old, I couldn't swim.
So my mom signed me up for swim team.

The entire swim team- the Barracudas- watched me on the first day as I "swam" a lap. In case you are macabre and want to know how that turned out- I stopped halfway to stand up to breathe.

I was kindly shown the corner where the 3-4 yr olds were being taught basic floating skills.

Right now, myself and a loved one are living out of the bubble. We are at Tennis Camp.  There are 90 mph oranges flying at our faces, aiming for our disconnected/connected ocular lenses (Well, mine.).

We're putting ourselves out there, as they say, but this time we are praying up.

We've both been told no in our Tennis Camp scenarios. But, we've decided that since we've prayed up prior and during these aren't really the authority's "no's" but rather God's no's. See, if He wanted us to have or do whatever, then He'd make that happen. No doubt. So obviously, it's not for us.

And that's fine. I realized something whilst driving:

A No is just God's way of handling my decisions. Sometimes rejection just makes things easier.

Boo's Poos.

If you are considering eating brownies or anything brown; you want to leave this post. Do not read this.

If you don't have, what I like to call a "Mother's Stomach" you might want to skeedaddle on over to some cute, DIY blog post on chevron stripes.

Right now, it's about to go down.

We have a loveable Maltipoo, named Boo.

Isn't she sweet?
She's 13 lbs of hypoallergenic fun.

Except for the accident.

You know, I wasn't giving much credit to all those crazy doomsdayer's beliefs, until last night when things got messy.

The Husband and I don't think cohesively during late night hours. If something disturbs our sleep, we get up and act as if we are on Ambien or something. If a mess happens, we usually put everything in the tub to find it the next day after we had forgotten about whatever grossity had taken place.

Example: Leelah comes in the room one night at say, 1:00amish. She's asking about wanting water. We are tired (read: Bad Parents). J incoherently says: "Go drink out of the faucet."  I know, I'm so ashamed. I say: "Cup your hands." What!? I'm the worst. Atrocious.

Last night, June 19th: 12:45am. 
Boo, beloved family pet, begins to whine.
I hear it first and murmur to John to get up and go see what is happening. My first thought from growing up in Houston is: We are being robbed. Doesn't matter if it's the Grand Trumpet of the Rapture, my go-to thought is: robbery is taking place.

He goes- always in anger- and lets the dog(s) out. Returns to bed- still angry.


1:00am:
Family Pet-Whining has not ceased.
We say random things to each other like, "Maybe she's hungry." "Are we being robbed?" "Go check on Leelah." and "You didn't leave her out long enough." - Oh wait, I just said all that. John was just angry. Don't mess with Texas, or John's sleeping.

1:30am:
Dog still whining. 
John in a huff goes to let her out again. I'm quasi-sleeping and have hit "snooze" on thinking we are being robbed. John is probably still angry.

2:30am??:
Dog won't shutup. So annoyed. Please don't get all PETA on us.
Am I in purgatory? Oh wait, I don't believe in that. Phew. Why is John not fixing this? He has to fix everything in an unangry matter.

3:00isham:
For the love of Benji, Boo is still wimpering!!!!
John retries the take-out. Maybe it's raining? Can't comprehend thought.

3:30isham: 
Quietness. Good! Way to go John.

3:31am- Destiny happens.
John calmly and loudly says: "Gillian, come here."
I unconsciously think, "Yes, Lord. Is it time?"
Oh it was time.
I realize husband is missing. Now what!?!?!!!

3:32am: 
I realize his voice is coming from the diningroom/kitchen/notsogreatroom.
Now listen/read, I am all kinds of sight impaired when I awake. So I have to feel my way out of my room or else, there will be blood. Stupid, beautiful sleigh bed.
I clumsily walk into the notsogreatroom. I don't see John's tallness and realize he's sublevel on the dining room floor.
There is is his face. Scrunched up all crazy like. He's holding Boo in a strange headlock so as to not move her from her spot. And Boo. Her face is so shameful. Those big soultaking eyes all sad and embarrassed staring at me. And the smell.

IT WAS THE WORST SMELL I'VE EVER SMELLED AND IT KEPT GROWING EXPONENTIALLY.

John proceeds to reenact what happened like some Native American Storytelling hour around a campfire:
I was going to let her out again, but she started to act weird. And then she came back to the rug. And then I heard this sick-nasty squishy noise like this: 
SQQQQUIIIRRRRRRSSHSHHHHHSHSHHSHSPLASHSHHHH!!!!!!!!!!
Friends,
our dog lost her bowels all over our Garden Ridge dining room rug. That's why I don't have PB stuff.
It looked like some kind of sauce from h-e-l-l. Sorry, I don't like to swear. The smell grew worse by the second.
I, being trained in Poop Tactics, flew into action and grabbed my arsenal: Oxyclean powder, a wet towel, lysol spray, and a whole roll of paper towels. John maintained the dog-headlock and strangely wiped her tuna-fish-smell butt with wet ones. Those poor, poor wet ones.

I'm pretty sure we accidentally made meth with the chemical combination. I'm being facetious. I'm just saying, we were NOT organic in cleaning it up. And I almost yacked. Which surprised me. I can talk about kid-excrement while eating a burrito all day long, but at 3:45am I was weak.

We went back to bed laughing. I'm glad God put us together. We are a team, John and I.

Earlier in the week we had just gone to see Prometheus--- goozy alert--- and came home to a kid that had sucked juice out of her ice pack she got from a couch fall. Normal for the Nichols. I'm pretty sure if we had our own show, I'd watch it. 

My Scoop on Beach Retreat 2012

Eyes opened.

Yes.

I'm talking like whoa.

This past week God plucked me out of the Target/BagelCafe/1kid-5 yr old/wife/craft/reading bubble that I like to live in. He took me out of my safe zone and dropped my bermuda-short wearing, 2-pairs of glasses sporting self right in the middle of a weeklong event for junior high students that looked like a sea of neon in South Padre, TX known as Beach Retreat put on by my family's home church Second Baptist.

The Bus Ride. 
The bus ride would not have been so bad if I wasn't trying to maintain a strong, puke-free mental state the whole time. I'm sure people thought I was totally awesome by the way I just slept to keep from throwing up and when I was awake, stared off into the distance with some fixated intensity. Everyone else was undoubtedly more fun than me, which was hard to accept at first, until the idea of "don't barf on them!" just rooted it's way so far into my mind that I could think of nothing else. Motion sickness and nerves turns out, don't mix well. The bus ride back was waaaaay better. And I got to see Soul Surfer. Finally. I'm late, but that movie was great!


I'm NOT Like the Others.
Spoiler alert! I would recommend taking a buddy with you to BR to serve. I met friends and was ever so thankful for them, but I got to tell you I spent a lot of time on my own. Junior High students don't dig people in their 30's turns out!? Who knew? I DIDN'T. I was completely shocked at the way I would talk to kids and get no response. That took some getting used to, and by getting used to I mean solo-crying in the bathroom and calling home to hear loved one's voices that actually cared if I was alive.

Once I got over that shock, I realized that God was clearly telling me that the week would not be about me and to, in a very caring, kind way, get over myself! So I did and the pity party stopped. I just kept on being my silly self and even got to get in some dance daring, which is always fun.





FOOD aka Pizza Rolls.
 Before I left for BR, I was obsessive over the thoughts of my next meals. Y'all know I suffer from ABFS- "Always be fancy syndrome." The symptoms of this disease are that I can't just hang with some plain, lame ol' sandwich, oh no! I must have something fancy.
Praise, God healed that part of me so much that John asked me what I wanted for my coming home meal and get this, I DIDN'T HAVE AN ANSWER!
Being away from my precious family made me just want to be with them and eat whatever.

Our main sustenance was pizza rolls, ramen noodles, tubes of bread objects, and other various junk food. We ate whenever we were in the condo. I'm not complaining. This is the facts folks. My sweet co-leader (Co's as they are called), and I had similar tastes so we tried to make runs to HQ to get the good stuff: coffee and sodas (cokes as we Texans say no matter what soda it is). We bonded I think over sandy coffee, right Lauren? And Pizza Rolls were the "it" food of the trip. I don't know if I love them or hate them now. Still deciding. They did have queso in jar form, which I was thankful for.

Sand:
My arch enemy along with Wind.
I abhor sand.
I abhor wind.
And I'm sorry, I can't even fathom how our military deals with sand on a continual basis being stationed in Afghanistan and Iraq. They are true heroes for so many reasons. I feel like such a choad for complaining about it. I guess I bring up my distaste of sand to prove that God really had me out of my element. 

WORSHIP/FREE CONCERT:
Y'all. Every night we had Worship and Service time.
The band for Beach Retreat and the entertainment is insane. Everything about that part of the event is amazing in the truest since. They rock for the Lord. The magician, Propaganda (the gifted and humble rapper), the dance teams, the skits and games, music just all of it was so cool.
I'm so spoiled now and miss that every night. When God gives you talent and you use it for His purposes- dang.

The MEAT: 
I was leading with my "Co" a group of 7 8th graders to be.
I am not quite sure if they liked or like me and like I said, I had a come to Jesus about that. I pray that I was used for His glory and am fine with not knowing how I was used. But I have to be dead honest, I cried for an entire day of BR because my heart was so very grieved for the attack that the enemy is wreaking on our children, specifically girls.

Speaking of Beach Retreat as a whole:
The amount of boy-craziness was appalling. I crushed on guys totally when I was that age. I thought guys were cute. But this was different.

The need for attention was so vast and so far reaching amongst all the girls. It was heartbreaking.

Did you know there is such a thing as something called a "Hate Page" on Facebook? It's a page that someone makes for someone else that is specifically for people to write horrible, diminishing thoughts and words about a person. They get all sorts of people to "like" that hate page and just rant and spew hatred on it about a particular person- this is school-wide separate from Beach Retreat. After my rules and whatnot, I probably have a hate page myself on FB!

And basically middle school is when all the innocence shattering really begins from what I heard.

The shorts were so short.

Almost every girl I talked to was over-involved in activities. None of them had time for quiet time. 

The "attractive" or "hot" guys of the minute were placed on pedestals. You might as well started bringing them burnt offerings for the amount of worship they received. It was sad.

Words like "please" and "thank you" don't happen. They are replaced by "jk" or demands.

Hear me, I'm not a Complain-Jane here! I'm super sanguine! It's just thought I was given a dose of reality and it tasted gross.

The GOOD News:
There were several bright stars that shined for God. They gave me hope for my daughter's future There were many that came to Christ, that got rededicated and that got Baptized. I don't want to take anything away from those miraculous moments.
Those Giant Hours, as Dr. Young called them.

Like I mentioned, we had awesome Worship and services, and Silent Sounds- morning and evening devotional time on the beach. Our condo even had some moments where we sat down and wrote out our favorite verses- that was my favorite time- and we encouraged each other through His Word.

I loved my girls.
Even if they thought I was lame.
 It wasn't about me and what I could do.

It was about God showing me personally to not give up on His mission for Lovely Girls Club. And then need for a place where girls can be told they are lovely and they matter not because of:
how well they play a sport
or how great they can cheer or tumble
or because of how beautiful they look
BUT
because they are "fearfully and wonderfully made!" by our God!
Other peoples' opinions don't count! 

 This is a long post, because I am so passionate about our girls knowing the Truth.

It's All About the "Yoots."

And now you know what a "yoot" is.
Brilliant movie, My Cousin Vinny.

Prepare yourself.


You're about to get blasted with links!


LINK BLASTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


So I leave on Sunday and come by next Friday because I'm going to Second Baptist's Junior High Beach Retreat!!!

That's pretty neat.

And you know what else?

I feel like I'm asking you to come and "Watch me dive!!"

Today we and by we I mean, myself and my baskets full of laundry, launched the brand, spanking new Lovely Girls Club website!

And then in July VBS happens. Sure to be epic, as the youths say, it's to the theme of Rockadilly!

We are also thrilled - well Leelah and I are thrilled and John is moderately enthused (which is good for an engineer)- about hosting students from China again!!!! 2 girls from Chengdu are about to get America'ed.

Awesome.

So when I say,  it's all about the yoots. I mean it. Youths y'all.

So You Think You Can Dance?

Me, no. I'm a spaz and I own it.


But God has given talent to some of my family in that arena that's for sure!
So I have these cousins.
They are young.
They are beautiful- inside and outside.
They have PRECIOUS smiles that induce smile contagion.
They are both people that illuminate a space. Like sunshine. 
So sweet.

And they can dance!  No, I mean, like really dance. As in, God given talent.

My heart is full of a momish-distant-cousinish kind of pride!

One of them is dancing her heart out for the University of Oklahoma on their Pom team/squad! We used to play at family get togethers and such and I've always treasured her sweet heart and her brothers- although they would probably barf if I told them that. And beauty, I mean! Get out! Is that weird?

And since we are on the subject, does it totally melt your mind when you haven't been around a cousin for a long, looong time and then you see them in their grown up version??! I'm so not cool when that moment of my awareness of their adulthood happens. I totally fall apart and say all the stupid things you shouldn't say and totally weird them out. Anyone else do that too?

My other cousin- I'm not sure if she is technically? She is my Grandfather's Sister's Granddaughter? My Great Aunt's Granddaughter. I will be honest, we've only known each other through Aunt Jan's fridge photos. But, even through that, I knew how adorably special she is! I was always like, wow, she is gorgeous!

Well her name is Audrey Case. I don't like to blast out family's names, but you're going to hear her name anyway because she is a contestant on SYTYCD! Please join me in cheering her on as she uses her talent that God gave her. And please pray for her protection and for God to use her story for His glory!

Here is her audition from last night's episode of the Atlanta tryouts.

Koozie People.

This is my thoughts on People Watching and Stillness.....

Today I got to enjoy another wonderful time of women's fellowship and study of the Word. How very blessed I am to have the freedom to do this. And not only, the blessing of that freedom which is invaluable, but with the most beautiful ladies that God has ever made (IMHO).

When it comes to talking about my friends, y'all I'm Niagara Falls. I'm a gusher like the fruit snacks that bear that name. Oh Gushers, you taste so good and so do you Fruit by the Foot. Oh you yard of fruit snack bliss! Stop it. Message to Self: You were talking about friends, not fruit snacks your kid eats that you wish you could still enjoy!

Where was I?

Focus!

In the fabulous study we are doing called, Reclaming Your Joy by Lorraine Hill (recommended!) we talk about Joy. Now, I'm only on Week 3 so know that. But already I've been challenged. I'm a dweller. Anyone, with me?

I dwell on so much. From fruit snacks, to past crud, to future longings; you name it I will dwell on it.

Always with the dwelling.

I wish I thought less. Anyone? Amen?

If only I was a Koozie Person.
"Koozie People"- is a term for a special class of people that I coined sometime ago while on a retreat with several ladies from our Bible Study class. We were on a boat, i.e. in a state of relaxation, and I just felt frazzled. I'm a little high-strung. I love boats and the water by the way.

But I noticed something that day. We kept passing people who were blessed enough to have homes on the side of a lake. Some homes were magnificent and dazzling. Some homes were a little too log-cabinish. Some homes were a little, how do you say, less magnificent? But hey, again, side of a lake ain't too shabby. Whatever.

The point is, the people in the magnificent and the less magnificent homes were all doing something: lounging in chairs (PB teak or Walmart plastic) and holding onto drinks in koozies.
Whoa.
They probably were going to be out there all day with their koozies in hand. Perhaps, in a visor.
 Maybe even smoking some kind of meat and not caring that their hair and clothes so permeated from the smoke would then wreak of said meat-smoking for the rest of the evening. 
I don't know what was in their koozies.
Diet Coke.
Not Coke.
Whatever.
It was just the fact that they had mastered the Skill of Chill.
That they live for the weekend. Listen to BTO. Chillax. Then after all that chillin', they head home, go to sleep and begin a new workweek. Amazing.

I am not a Koozie Folk.
 I have to be moving like a hummingbird or a shark. It's hard to stop. Anyone? But God sure wants me to take a page from their book- maybe more His book and be chill. Or as He puts it, "Be still."

Oh wow, Gillian. Congrats on being so visionary and "writing" a blog post about being still. How new!
No, it's not. I get it. But at least I've let you all in on Koozie People and you will now know that subset of interesting loungers. What do they think? Anything? Nothing? Everything?

As I ask God to prepare me for the week ahead, I'm trying to channel the inner Koozie Person inside me. Next week I will be going on a trip. A trip with over a thousand junior high students our church likes to call: Beach Retreat.

We are going to South Padre Island, TX and we are going to be meeting Jesus there. We will have awesome worship and one on one time with the Lord and all He has planned. I'm, of course, freaking out. But God has promised to equip me. So, if you can, say a prayer or two for me and all those kiddos next week! This week too- it's the high schoolers turn first! And ask God to speak through me and to whomever He puts in my path.

Thanks,
A Coffee Mug Person.