Pink Lemonade

For the past week or so, Andrew and I have had an on and off discussion over whether or not Pink Lemonade is pink because of the flavor or just because of food coloring. Yesterday he told me a story about how pink lemonade originated because someone accidentally used water that was dyed red for their lemonade.  Maybe so, but I think most pink lemonade tastes better than regular lemonade. (My brother, Nathan, makes a good point that some is probably flavored and some is probably dyed.)  Regardless, in my mind, Pink Lemonade will always be better than other lemonade.  Chick fil A lemonade is the only yellow lemonade I like. Yes, this is ridiculous, but it's how I function. It's similar to my unreasonable love for things that are purple.

Today, I left a very stressful/busy week of work and drove through the lovely neighborhood toward the grocery store.  I looked ahead to my left, and there were two cute 8ish-year-old little girls who were literally screaming "lemonaaaaade!!!"  at the top of their lungs.  What else could I do?  I turned my car around as soon as I could and went and bought a 4 oz. cup of lemonade.  The going rate was twenty-five cents; I gave them a dollar for being so dang cute. (I'm a sucker for cute little 8ish-year-old girls, because I miss my baby sister so much.)

I almost didn't stop.  I stopped for two main reasons: 
1.  I love pink lemonade. 
2.  I wanted to contribute to the development of these little girls' entrepreneurial spirits, because once upon a time...
Eric, Kelly, and Nathan Sundt were very small children.  We were probably 10, 8, & 6 or something like that.  We had so many things we needed.  I'm sure I needed dolls, barbies, purple things (I still need purple things), hats, and cool clothes.  Eric and Nathan probably needed basketball cards, legos, and other weird boy things.  We didn't live on a busy street, so a lemonade stand would not have been profitable.  We were smarter than that (or maybe our mom informed us).  So what could we do?  We needed these things, and we had no money. 

We had soil.  In the soil there were worms.  There was a lake up the road with plenty of fishermen who needed tackle.  Oh, yes we did.  We dug and dug in our backyard  for hours until we had thousands of slimy, wonderful worms that would surely make us millionaires.  Our parents are so cool.  They drove us to the lake to sell our worms.  I have no idea if we even made a dime, but I love this memory.  I love that I have brothers that sat in the dirt with me to dig up worms.  I'm grateful for parents who taught me to work hard for the things I "needed"  and who encouraged my entrepreneurial spirit by driving me to the lake to sell gross, slimy worms. 

Now, I still have an entrepreneurial spirit; lately, I really want to start my own bakery or maybe just enter my baked goods in a fair someday.  It's fun to dream...

Friday, Friday, Friday

My husband thinks this video has changed his life.

So he sings "Friday."  All. the. time.

This morning this is how he woke me up:

Andrew: "Ta-day is Fri-day..."

me:  "Noooo. It's not."  **groaning and rolling over to go back to sleep**

I would like to point out that whoever wrote this song clearly is a lyrical genius, because they took the same basic tune to Justin Beiber's "Baby", changed it up a little (still including the guest rapper) and made the tune LESS catchy, but it still went viral on youtube.  It must be lyrics like "front seat, back seat, which seat will I take?!"  that has the nation screaming for more of Rebecca Black's wonderful song.

While I'm being cynical about the state of current teen pop, I'd like to point out that "baby, baby, baby like woah!" aren't the most genius lyrics either.  

Now, to the point Andrew made about this song yesterday... Can you imagine what the majority of the world would think of this song?  She's got a pretty tough decision to make there -- front seat, back seat... that's rough.  I shouldn't think about this too long though, or I might get convicted about how I sometimes think my life is so hard when people are suffering everywhere... yeah.  I can be pretty selfish sometimes too.  I'm learning to actually pray consistently over the suffering of others.  This morning (even while I'm typing this) I have been convicted that I don't do this enough.  I pray once or twice for those affected by natural disasters or diseases.  Day-to-day though,  I tend to focus on prayer and discussions that revolve around me and my friends.  I pray for missionaries, but mostly just those that I know really well.  I say I have a heart for the whole world, but do I really?  May God work this in me. 

Anyway, I need to get ready to go car hunt.  I'll probably sit in the front seat, in case you're wondering.  We found a couple cars that we like. 

We we we... we so excited.

Happy Saturday.

I'm not great at blogging yet

So, this month has been nuts.  Tomorrow is April.  I really can't believe it.  I know, I know, now I sound like an old person.  Sometimes it really does fly though.  This month I had the distinct privilege of taking a vacation with the one and only Becca Bonas.  It was a great best friend trip.  There's really nothing quite like it.  It was a gift from God for sure.  I needed to sit on a dock in the middle of the intercoastal waterway drinking an Izze and listening to the birds and waves.  I needed to look out on the ocean, so much greater than I can imagine and be reminded that God created more water and land than I can imagine.  He created the tides; I have no idea how tides work (ok, I have an IDEA because I learned it in 4th grade science class.  but c'mon, how many of us cared how the tides worked back then?  I didn't.  I just wanted to go to recess).   I needed to go on a ridiculously long barefoot walk down to a pier that we ultimately weren't allowed to walk out on and make a great memory of sandy, blistery feet and whiny best friends.  I needed to talk about how I'm wrong sometimes,  how grief is longer and worse than you want it to be, and  how anger is an expression of a deeper, underlying emotion.   I'm blessed. 

I'm also grateful for my husband.  Andrew went to a pastoral training conference a couple weekends ago (hence my trip to the beach with Bec).  We were apart for 5 days.  Super, super weird.  It was refreshing in a sense to be reminded of all the reasons I'm grateful for him.  He keeps me laughing all the time and lets me cry when I need to.  He prays with me.  He makes time for me amidst a busy school and work schedule.  I'm grateful for these things.
Andrew also likes to turn P90X yoga into Kung Fu.  I'm grateful for that too; it helps me not to take myself too seriously.  Here's an excerpt from our workout:
*Andrew & I are both trying to balance in ridiculous positions*

Andrew: "hiyaaaah!"   "waaah!"
Kelly:  "ha! you're crazy. what are you doing?"

*the P90X man tells us to move into the "Crane" stance*

Andrew: "Ooh, THE CRANE"
We both look and see what "the crane" is (a balancing act in which you place your hands on the ground and balance your knees on your bent elbows).
Andrew: "What?!  I thought it was gonna be crazy Kung Fu Crane!"
I proceed to try "the crane"
Andrew: "look at my awesome kung fu wife!"


I married the most ridiculous man.  He keeps me entertained.


So, there ya go.  Really random March post.  I promise April will bring more frequent, and therefore shorter, posts.

Inspiration and P90X

This is officially my first blog post since I stopped posting on xanga a billion years ago.  That's right, people, xanga.  Ah, the memories.

Thank you to Elise McClelland for inspiring me to blog again. You're a good friend, and I love reading about how much you love your little family and the more raw things you share as well.

I'm going to keep this post light and quick, partially because it's my first post, and partially because I'm exhausted from 2 days of P90X.  Andrew and I have begun the workout and are dedicated to finishing at least 90 days of it.  I love to run.  Andrew likes to run.  However, I broke my foot last year, as some of you may recall, and need a way to cross-train so I'm not killing my foot with high impact 7 days a week.  Andrew needs a way to cross-train indoors while it's cold outside in order to prevent asthma issues.  The generous couple we live with purchased P90X and told us we were free to use it whenever we wanted.  Therefore, we've chosen death by P90X.  We started with Plyometrics; apparently this is "the mother of all the workouts."  Our legs are pretty wobbly after 2 days of Plyo.  We probably should have started with something else.  Oh, well.  On to the arms and shoulders workout tomorrow.

I do genuinely enjoy working out with Andrew.  He's encouraging, and he's not intimidating.  He also is good at making me actually wake up on time to work out.  I'm thankful for him.

I've got some thoughts I want to get out about Ephesians and authority, as well as women's ministry. That's all soon to come.