What Do You Think of Wednesdays

My sister stole my idea, but I don't really care. I'm gonna ask you anyway. Probably, ever blogger in the world will ask you this in the following weeks, but whatever. 

What do you think of...

New Year's Resolutions?

Personally, I don't have any. I've never been great with setting goals and sticking with them until completion. I feel better about myself when I don't set goals and just happen to complete something by random chance. How about you? Any resolutions?

What You Do vs. What You Are

I was talking to a friend recently who is a graphic designer. He's always felt uncomfortable with calling himself a graphic designer. He's not all that passionate about it, and would never call graphic design his "career path." What my friend loves to do, is write - and although he hasn't published anything, or had "success" in the field, it hasn't stopped him from writing. It hasn't stopped him because he is a writer. And he's darn good at it if you ask me. He feels comfortable calling himself a writer. I can relate to this. I think it's interesting that we feel as if we need success to validate a title that we feel is intrinsic to our character. We need others to tell us what we already know of ourselves. I know not everyone has found the thing that makes them feel comfortable in their own skin, but for those of you who have...what is it? Don't think you have to be making money, or working full-time as a writer to call yourself a writer.

So fess up. Let us know what you DO, but then let us know what you ARE.

Go.

A Petroleum Christmas

Sorry for the hiatus, friends. Hope you all had a great Christmas. We had a fantastic time in Northern California with Jenn's parents. We left early in the morning on Christmas Eve and were surprised by the lack of traffic. Sure it was heavier than normal, but it wasn't anything like we expected. We arrived, and the next four days were chalk full of family visits, movies and playing with the Bubba. Both of our families are incredibly generous, so we always feel blessed when we visit. They help us more than we ever expected and are always willing to step in and give us some help with the baby. Jenn's mother is also a registered nurse, which came in especially handy on Thursday night when the Bubba woke up screaming like a banshee.

During our visit, Jenn got her own room, which was well deserved. She didn't sleep as well as she would have liked, but at least we tried. Bubba and I stayed in the room across the hall. On Thursday night (Friday morning, actually) at 12:30am, Bubba woke up crying. It was the cry that I've learned means I'm going to be up for quite a while. I got up to see what the problem was. Bubba sat up and started whimpering, "Uh oh. All done mamma. All done." I picked him up and he was raging hot. His head, and even his torso was so warm that I almost started to panic. I took his shirt off to start cooling him down and walked into Jenn's room for further direction. After I'd told her the situation, she thought it was a good idea to wake up Mimi. Jenn told her what was going on and Mimi immediately went to work. She started a cool bath and asked us to sit with Bubba on the couch and undress him while she got a thermometer to take his temperature.

When she came back, she had a thermometer and a can of Vaseline, which I thought was a bit strange. As she was applying Vaseline to the end of the thermometer, I couldn't help but think that Bubba wasn't going to like the way that tastes at all. I really didn't understand her methods, but hey...she's the nurse, right? Then Bubba's legs were lifted over his head, and Mimi stuck that thermometer right in the bad place. Good-night-nurse. "Note to self," I thought. "Never tell this woman I'm sick." As you can imagine, the Bubba didn't appreciate it either. "102 degrees," Mimi said. "Great," I thought. "But what about his forehead?"

Mimi gave the Bubba some medicine and he slept off and on with Jenn for the rest of the night. The next day, Jenn and I took turns holding Bubba in Granddad's chair. The poor kid slept until 3pm, at which time the fever finally broke. After dinner, it was like he was never sick. His temperature returned to normal and our vacation continued as planned. Once again, Mimi saves the day!

As far as Christmas is concerned, the Bubba made out like a bandit. He received enough trucks and tractors to start a working farm, and since he was the only baby in the house, all the attention was his. Both my family and Jenn's gave to us like they were rich. They never cease to amaze me. We really do have so much to be thankful for. 

So how about you? Did Santa bring you anything special?

Happy Holidays from the Avila's

Merry Christmas here is some coal and stuff

If you are in the market for some mediocre worship music, you've come to the right place. A few years ago, I recorded a few of my own songs. I got the help of some very talented friends, and I would like to share the goods with you now.

The EP/Demo was titled, "Lullaby." I actually put a lot of thought into the title and cover art. There were quite a lot of discouraging events in my life at the time. Among other things, I had just lost my brother-in-law to cancer. Horrible events are almost always followed by questions. And I had plenty. They were the usual questions you ask when you see death up close. How can death and my idea of God co-exist? What do I do when I've lost hope? Questions like that. Also, the songs speak of things that I really want to believe. Ideas that I hope are true. "When all hope is lost, You oh Lord are strong to save. Your kingdom will never pass away." I didn't necessarily "feel" those things at the time, but my hope was that through singing them, I would begin to believe that they were true. It wasn't like I was trying to put blinders on...more like I was trying to awaken something inside. I'm not entirely sure how to explain it.

With those types of questions, it seems like "Lullaby" would be a strange title. But I was thinking that as adults, so much of the time we sing ourselves to sleep to the tune of heartache and hopelessness. So, for the cover art, I wanted to have something that symbolized that. I came up with the idea of a baby mobile, but the items on the mobile aren't duckies and stars. I decided on a skeleton key, a compass, a broken lightbulb and a nail. They are the things that symbolize my bedtime thoughts. They are the thoughts of real life....of grasping for hope.

So without further adieu. If you would like a copy of the EP for free...

Click here

and Merry Christmas.

A Case of the Mondays

Today was one of those days. Nothing seemed to work. I had reports due and couldn't access the internet, I had a million things to do and didn't get to half of them, and I wasn't motivated to work...at all. I also forgot some stuff at home and had to turn around, which meant I lost an hour of my day. But I'm feeling better about it even as I type. See, it does help to vent. How about you? Need to get anything off your chest?

The Todd

(I am now convinced that this crap happens to me for the sole purpose of your entertainment. Such is my lot in life. That said, here is another horribly awkward true story.)

A few days ago, I went into my local bank to make a deposit. The tellers were all helping customers, but there was no one else in line, so I took my spot two feet behind the tellers, where the tile meets the carpet. I watched myself make funny faces on the TV monitor as I waited. The teller directly in front of me finished first. His name was Todd, which I deduced from his name badge. Todd was exactly as I imagined every Todd would look. He had spiky, dirty blonde hair, a one day old beard and rolled up sleeves. He was sitting on his bar stool, hunched over his desk with folded arms. Todd was too cool for school. He said, "What's up bro?" I guess that was his way of asking me if he could be of any help. I stepped up to the counter and placed my deposit ticket and check on the counter as I told Todd, "Nothing much Todd, just a normal day." "That's what I'm talking about," responded Todd.

I chuckled as he began the transaction. Then Todd said, "Bro, your jacket is super sweet...where'd you get it?" (That particular day, I happened to be wearing a Herringbone 3/4 Peacoat. Not that it matters) "Urban Outfitters," I told Todd.

"Bro...could you do a spin for me," Todd asked as he used his finger to illustrate the request.

Un-be-lievable. Was this actually happening? At that point, I had two options. To spin or not to spin.

Obviously, I was going to spin. But if I was going to do it right, I had to own it. So I took a half step forward with my left foot, placed all my weight upon the ball of my foot, and used my right foot to control the spin as I pivoted on my left foot. It was a perfect 3/4 speed turn.

"Nice spin," said Todd. I nodded in agreement. Todd reiterated, "Yeah, that's a sweet jacket." "Thanks Todd," I said as he ripped my receipt from the printer. Todd handed me my receipt, and as I walked away I thought that although I went in to make a deposit, I couldn't help but feel as if Todd made a withdrawal.

-Trav

AHHHHHHH...

I need to vent.

London's asthma is back with a vengeance. So is the bill for his prescription. More than my car payment.

It is freakin' cold here and it makes me realize I should have worn knee pads during all those years of volleyball. Ouch...

I have bruises all over my legs from me child who now loves to use me for a climbing toy since he can't go outside.

A lot of my friends are on round two of children and I have NO desire to even think about it. And for some reason that makes me feel guilty.

I have SO much to do before we leave on Wednesday that it gives me a headache to think about it.

I am trying to fight off the cold that my hubby just had for two weeks. I am not that good at fighting.

I backed into a guy's truck at the movies. He had a HUGE Chevy and I have a puny Hyundai. Somehow, I still managed to rearrange his bumper. That's isn't the worst part though. I left my number and his wife thought I was just some girl who was trying to pick him up. We had to call and explain who I was to her so that she wasn't mad. Now I just have to sit and wait for the bill.

We have been trying to sell Travis' truck for so long. Now we have hundreds of more miles on it which makes it worth NOTHING. Sweet.

AND..

To top it all off, my hubby did a "What celebrity do you look like?" game in which he was told he looked like Michael Varton. I, on the other hand, was told that I looked like a transvestite.

Great.

Happy Holidays.

Social Dilemma - Friends and Freeways

It's a strange scenario when someone you know passes you on the freeway. You're driving along and happen to glance over and see the familiar face as they motor by. They get the feeling that they are being stared at, and turn to see who is all up in their peripheral "grill." Usually, what follows is an awkward exchange, but that isn't the point of this post. Although, as the exchange is concerned, it's usually a friendly wave followed by mouthing a few words that the other person doesn't understand...so they smile and nod.  Maybe you send them a text that's all like, "Hey, I just saw you" or whatever. In any case, it's far more awkward when they slow down for one reason or another, but you know you can't pass them because you'll have to acknowledge them again, which will be exponentially less graceful than the first encounter. 

So what do you do? If you pass them, how do you avoid the awkwardness? And as always...funny stories are always welcome.

-Trav

He'll Always Be Cute!!

My baby may have asthma, but he will always be cute. You can't take that from him.

Cute, but also sad, to see your son so used to something like this that he
can do it himself.

All he needs to make him smile is his truck....and mommy.

Don't you just want to squeeze him! His new winter hat that he
LOVES!!

What Do You Think of Wednesdays

I'm going to seriously regret this one, but...

What do you think of...

Spanking?

I really want to believe that spanking is an acceptable form of punishment for youngsters. It's just that Bubba is going through this hitting phase and I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that "I'm going to hit you to show you that hitting people is wrong." We are doing timeouts at the moment. I'll shut the Bubba in his room for thirty seconds or a minute, then go in and tell him why he received a timeout and why whatever he did is wrong. Then I'll give him a hug and tell him that I love him. If I was to start spanking, I would definitely follow it up with the same routine. Plenty of people spank their kids. I even know some of them, and you know what...they are great parents. Even though they are now forced to live in bunkers, for fear of societal rejection, at one time, spanking was a widely accepted form of punishment. I was even spanked as a child and despite what most of you probably think, I'm relatively normal. Here's my thing. Sometimes, timeouts just don't do the trick. When I was a kid, it seemed as though spanking was the only form I punishment that actually made a difference. These days it borders on physical abuse in the minds of most young parents, but I think that is an extreme view. I'm beginning to think that different children require different levels of discipline. But I want to know what you think. Do you spank your kids? Why or why not?

So, if you are going to comment, and I truly hope that you do, just stick to the following ground rules:

1. Don't tell me I'm wrong.

2. Be nice. Respect other's opinions.

3. No tangents.

4. Don't disagree with me.

A Case of the Mondays

Finally, I get to whine and complain a bit. I had a case of the Mondays yesterday. Saturday and Sunday I was sick with a sore throat and Monday I lost my voice. It's Tuesday and still, my voice is nowhere to be found. Last night, we went to a friend's house to build gingerbread houses with the kids. So there we were, three small children and me, covered in frosting and high on sugar. My original idea was to build a miniature gingerbread house for the Bubba. But what started as an innocent dwelling, soon turned into a Mexican Cantina, complete with bar stools. Whoops. Here is the finished product. Although I want it to be known that I was pulled away from my Cantina prematurely for an impromptu round of Guitar Hero.

A few of the smart alecs said that it looked more like a public restroom than a Cantina, but I knew they were full of it. It's OBVIOUSLY a mid-century, French influenced, Mexican Cantina. Everybody knows that.

Anyway, how was your Monday?

6 Doors

I used to think that life was about finding the ONE thing you were passionate about. The ONE person who could complete you. Your soul mate. Once you found your passion, you were to embrace it and run. I've mentioned it before, but in a past life, I was a musician. For years, my life was consumed by figuring out a way for music to work full-time. Finding a way to become successful through this thing I loved so much. I didn't realize it then, but my happiness hinged on the progress of my music career, which was basically non-existent. I was trying SO hard to make something happen. To create a career out of thin air. My biggest fear was that I would miss the ONE opportunity that would launch me into the stratosphere. This way of thinking was killing me. Any musician will tell you that the music business is like a rollercoaster. Some days you're up and some days you're down. Imagine if your emotions followed this pattern. Maybe some of yours do ;) In any case, it makes for a very stressful, very unfulfilled life. You are constantly redefining success and failure, in a never ending attempt to reach the dangling carrot, so to speak. 

When I was single, I would ask God, "Who do you want me to marry? Where is she?" I would scan our Campus Crusade college group of 1,200 people wondering who the future Mrs. Avila would be. I wouldn't want her to walk out the doors without noticing me, for fear of a lifetime of solitude. Lot's of people would tell me, about both music and women, "once you give it up and give it to God, he will reveal it to you." It was like I had to trick my brain into thinking that it wasn't important, call it "giving it to God" and then eureka!...women and record deals would start falling from the sky. Isn't this the way we are. We try so hard to convince our minds of something, torturing ourselves over two options, meanwhile God is trying to tell us that we are completely missing the point. Well, eventually I had a revelation.

One night, completely distraught over my situation, both musically and relationally...I asked God for some answers. I felt like a 50/50 split between the Hunchback of Notre Dame and William Hung. I remember asking God something like, "Just show me the door, and I'll walk through it." Immediately after the words left my mouth, a deep realization hit...followed by the peace that tells you there is some truth to it. It was like God was telling me, "Maybe there's not just one door. Maybe there are six." God was telling me that he would bless any of the six doors. He just wanted me to walk, to DO SOMETHING. The door I chose wasn't as important as the man I became after walking through. There isn't some mystical power that governs our life, leading us down a road that doesn't allow for detours and off-ramps. It's not as if we can sabotage our lives without realizing it. Missing the one door that would have led us into complete happiness and satisfaction. I had forgotten that I've chosen to follow a God that is bigger than my mistakes - that is able to turn mourning into dancing and work together all things for the good. 

Turns out music wasn't even what I wanted for my life. But at the time, you couldn't have convinced me of any other career path. Turns out that I married a woman twenty times better than I imagined. Fifty times better than any other woman I'd ever had my eye on. My life doesn't look like the roadmap I had drawn out when I was young. I had written in a series of open doors. Sure there was no room for error, but there was also no room for the majesty of God. There was no room for Him to bless my errors and to show me the potential of the other five doors.

What a Week

If you are wondering what I have been up to, here it is.

London officially has asmtha. We are trying to be proactive and get it under control while he is little. Which means giving him breathing treatments twice a day for two weeks. Not fun for anyone. Especially when I have to do it alone, which means pinning him down for 10 minutes and listening to him cry "all done mama". Poor baby.


I decided to go big this year and really decorate our house. Originally my parents where thinking about coming our way for Christmas so I wanted the place to look really cute. Now we are going their way, so I toned down a bit. But I still had my friend come over and help decorate because she is so good at it. It took us two nights in a row to get the tree the way we wanted it. Mostly because we handmade these reindeer ornaments out of paper and it took FOREVER. I think they turned out good though. Kid friendly at least.


Finally, I was getting impatient about our Christmas lights. I couldn't find anyone to help put them up, and Trav and I usually fight when we do it together. So I stuck with the ole' phrase "If you want it done right, do it yourself." I got ambitious and got my neighbors ladder and put up our house lights by myself while London was napping. Went pretty well, until I fell into the thorn bush. I saved my face by putting my arms and hand in front of me.


Oh the price we pay for this season.

Jenn

What Do You Think of Wednesdays

What do you think of...Christmas music?

Do you love it? Do you hate it? Do you listen to it before Thanksgiving? What is your favorite Christmas album? These are my questions for you. So please, take a few moments and enlighten me.

Words of Wisdom

(I don't think I've ever offered an explanation for the random series, "Words of Wisdom." Basically, whenever I say something stupid, I'll post about it. Which isn't really random at all. It's actually very frequent. I just haven't been posting them much. I'll do better.)

Jenn reminded me of a funny story last night. Well...funny AND humiliating to be perfectly honest. While we were engaged, Jenn lived in the apartment we were going to move into once we got married. One day, while I was there hanging out, I walked into the bedroom where Jenn was putting away her laundry. Sitting directly in front of me on the dresser, was a bra. Most likely, it was hers....which made the situation even more awkward. I'm pretty sure she saw me look at it. Immidiately, I turned away, not wanting to look like a perv or anything. But now there was a huge elephant in the room, so I felt like I needed to say something. The problem was that I didn't know anything about bras. So I said what any guy would say. "So...is that your training bra?" Right away, Jenn turned bright red and said, "I know they're small, but..." It took me a few seconds, but I soon realized what I had done. See, what I meant to say was, "So...is that your sports bra?" For some reason, I thought "sports" but said "training." It was a faux pas for the ages, and one that Jenn still reminds me of. 

I'm not sure how I expected the conversation to go. Maybe something like this..

Trav: "So...is that your sports bra?"

Jenn: "Yeah"

Trav: "Cool"

There was no avoiding embarrasment, but only I could make it exponentially worse.

-Trav