I spent my fondue set money on a shirt and tie for Scott since nowhere in the freaking land of Great Britain sells real fondue sets. Can a man wear a midnight blue shirt with black trousers? It's such a good blue...

Free Tuesday

It's a lazy Tuesday morning, and I've blagged myself out of a day of work. Scott is off work until tomorrow, and I hated the idea of missing a special day off with him. So I rearranged my shift to Sunday afternoon (leaving me time to make it to the Rememberance service) and voila! today I am free.

Scott and I are spending the day in true Lori fashion. We're heading up to Glasgow to visit Braehead, IKEA, and John Lewis, in search of clothes, tea cups, and a fondue set. After shopping, we're thinking of catching a movie at UGC (mind you, the biggest cinema in the world, it's like a million stories tall.) I'd quite like to see the Merchant of Venice, being the Shakespeare fan that I am.

Speaking of Shakespeare, [insert seeming pretentiousness] I'm desperate to get my books back. I've been without my books for, what, three months now? I bought a book in a charity shop so I've got something to read but it's not the same as going through a huge collection and selecting the perfect book out of them all. If it were up to me, I'd be reading Nathaniel Hawthorne's Short Stories.[/pretentiousness]

I had a dream last night that I was a freaking amazing painter and that before I became a Christian I had painted a picture of a Bible story (which now that I'm awake, I realize is not a Bible story) about some people who drowned. In the painting the people remained dead because I didn't believe God had saved them. But after I had become a Christian, I painted over it and made the people alive. The painting was amazing except for the fact that the alive people I had painted looked like Scott and Pete.

I also dreamed my dad totally rocked and told off the people at his old church for being self-righteous and condescending. The people at his old church aren't actually self-righteous and condescending, but in the dream they were, and my dad rocked.

I'm gonna go gather my husband away from his XBOX LIVE and make him take me shopping.

(SCOTT'S MIDNIGHT P.S.)

It's midnight.

Today was a mega-stressful nightmare ;). "January" sales shoppers everywhere. We didn't go to Glasgow, it was too busy. We didn't go to the cinema, we'd forgotten about the fact that Lori was going to a workmate's birthday party and I was off to a men's fellowship/eat a meal in a pub type thing. It was nice, apart from beer was off the menu due to people in rehab being there.

But I'm pretty sure Lori had fun. Which is the important thing in the end.

Christmas Happened

Our first Christmas was delightful. Snow, presents, a warm hubby, a coal fire... Sigh. It was perfect.

Scott and I woke up around nine or half nine and lazed about for a bit before rushing downstairs to open our presents. We both totally scored. I got stuffed toys, two floor lamps, Scrabble, and some decorative trinkets. Scott got a two-tiered keyboard stand, a tie, a CD, and lots of other wee things. (We had a price limit for Christmas.) Then we walked into the kitchen and saw that it was snowing! (Which has been mentioned already, I know.) I then began cooking a stuffing--the smell of chopped onions is amazing, by the way--for Christmas lunch, and once that was finished, we headed through the snow to the in-laws. There we opened more presents such as a coat, a map, and whiskey for Scott and a skirt, a statue and art supplies for Lori. We then ate dinner and subsequently spent the entire rest of Christmas watching Friends episodes back to back on E4. Scott and I came home, put in It's a Wonderful Life and around 2am found ourselves asleep on the couch.

Perfect, perfect day.

Hogmanay is next. See a couple of you then!

We're Not Dreaming Of A White Christmas

Because it is a White Christmas! Yay! For the first time in YEARS there is actually snow on the ground on Christmas. Usually it's too wet, since we live by the river, but this year has done us well.

Lori and I exchanged presents this morning. Our very first Christmas in each other's company. Lovely. Then we walked through to the kitchen to get breakfast, noticed and celebrated the snow. Before Lori monopolised the bathroom. And I phoned BT to sort our crackly phone line.

Incidentally, poor guy. He was working on Christmas morning with people moaning about their broadband and stuff. I felt bad. I think he was sleeping when I called to be honest, he didn't seem quite with it.

I just got sidetracked with other people's blogs for ten minutes. No one else is sad enough to post at this time. Haha, I am the ultimate blogging dweeb.

Have a good day, and I hope Santa is good to you all. He was to me.

P.S. Check out the link.

-by Scott.




Yuletide Ponderings
-by Lori.

Last night at the Christmas Eve service we attended, a few Christmasy thoughts came to mind as we sang The First Noel. I've never thought too in depthly about the Christmas story and how it all worked to fit into God's plan and character. Here's what I thought about:

1) God always chooses the lowly and poor to reveal himself to. On the night Jesus was born, angels appeared to the shephards. Why the shephards? God could've revealed himself to well respected members of the Jewish community, or at least the truly godly ones. Certainly there were better deserving people who could've received this message and gone to worship. But God sent angels to the shephards. Probably mostly young men, even boys. And they believed what they heard and went to worship the new King.
Then I started wondering what happened to those shephards as they grew up. Did they follow what was happening in Jerusalem with the little boy they knew to be the Messiah? Did any of them become followers when Jesus began his ministry? Were any of those shephards who were present at Jesus' birth find themselves present at his death, too, or resurrection? I wonder what happened to them after 30 years passed with nothing spectacular happening with that baby they found lying in a manger.

2) The second verse of The First Noel then deals with the wise men and I got to thinking about them. In Romans (I think it's Romans) Paul says that no one is without excuse of not knowing God because God has shown Himself in all things. The wise men from the East saw a star they couldn't explain. They believed in their hearts that this star must mean something incredible--so incredible that they picked up their things and traveled for two years across the continent to find out what was at the other end. They were Gentiles. They were not part of God's covenant to the Jews. They knew nothing of God. Yet by faith, by the way God showed Himself to all the world (for I imagine anyone could've seen the star, and anyone could've, by faith, followed it) wise men from a foreign land came and worshiped.

So then, were they saved by faith? We have no reason to believe they stayed in Bethlehem and heard of Jesus' life and death. Yet they had faith in Jesus and knew him to be a great and mighty King. Obviously this is not something we are able to know while on this earth, but it struck me as interesting. Surely the whole world was without excuse those years that the star was in the sky--except the men who followed it.

I also find it interesting that, while God sent angels to the lowly shephards, he also showed the star to educated and wise men all the same. God doesn't actually exclude learned people from his Kingdom, it's just that learned men most often will reject God. God deliberately showed Himself to the poor shephards, but God also gave everyone the chance to follow His star. The wise men knew enough about astronomy to know that this star was unique. Yet instead of considering one of nature's oddities, they followed it believing it was more. And they found the Messiah. And they brought him gifts and worshipped him. Interesting.


Merry Christmas.

I'll be home for Christmas
You can count on me
I'll be home for Christmas
If only in my dreams.

Ba Humbug.

After hearing "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire" about six times every day since the beginning of December, and after looking at the cheesy Christmas decorations on our blog every time I make a post, I have decided Christmas is over for scottandlori.blogspot.com. It's not over for the real Scott and Lori--no, no, that is still to come, and I am still excited!! But for now, we're going with the superhero look. Our superhero pictures to the sides are now fixed to where you can click on them and see a larger image.

We have the internet at our house. :D Merry Christmas!!

I Have The Power....

Of Broadband. Not Greyskull, although that'd be cool. 1 Mbit per second. Suweet.

Although, the speed isn't that impressive in reality, since we're pretty far away from the exchange and a lot of people are online right now, it being peak time and all that. But it still beats nothing/dial up.

Anyway, Lori redecorated, I think she was sick of Christmas. Scrooge.

Does everyone know she doesn't intend to tell our kids about Santa? :(

Holy crap! I just found, like, a million friends' blogs! See new section in sidebar.

Breaking Crayons

When I was a kid, I coloured really hard. I didn't like when other kids coloured lightly because you couldn't really get the full colour that way. I pressed hard so the colour would be as vibrant as the wrapper around the crayon.

I broke a lot of crayons. But thats when you simply peel back the paper and get on with it.

I've always been "hard handed." I slam car doors with the best of them. I stomp. I twist tightly. I yank. I plunk. I slam. I'm wound up tighter than a tick, as they say. I think tighter than a clock makes more sense, but I didn't start the saying. It's just how I am. I don't do this intentionally; it doesn't reflect my mood or my attitude. I just do things powerfully. I break crayons. I prefer to think of myself as vibrant.

I'm strong spoken, too. I say what needs to be said that no one is saying. I wouldn't say I'm blunt, but I'd say I'm honest. Extremely. I yell if it is necessary. Sometimes I don't realize I'm yelling. I think I'm just speaking. But people tell me I'm yelling, and I guess they'd know. I fight sometimes, but sometimes people have to fight. If you don't fight, you don't fix things, and if you don't fix things, life gets complicated.

But this has gotten me into trouble numerous times. Needless to say, teachers didn't like me breaking their crayons, even if I had the prettiest colouring pages out of the class. Amanda and Scott always scold me for slamming the car doors. Downstairs neighbours hardly appreciated my heavy steps around the house. And people certainly have not liked me in the past because of the way I speak. But it's something I can't seem to change, and where the honesty comes in, I don't think I should. I don't do things forcefully on purpose, and when I think about it, I try extra carefully to be softer. If you point it out to me, I'll see that I did slam, and I'll try not to do it again. But the thing is, I will. I will do it again. My body is stiff as a board, and I dream about punching people. I'm a forceful person. It's in my marrow. How does one change something so indigenous to one's entire being?

But today I was told it must end. No ifs, ands, or buts. And if I don't stop, I'll probably get fired.

My boss had a talk with me today after work. No one likes to be called aside by one's boss; it always means you are doing something wrong. He asked me how I felt I was doing at the job. Sheepishly, I answered, "I think I'm doing well. Does this mean you don't think I'm doing well?" Indeed, it always does. He told me then and there he can't stand how heavy handed I am. "It just has to stop. No trying. It has to."

I sat there speechless as he told me how all day long I slam mugs down, drop dishes in the sink, stomp all around, and speak bluntly. But-- but I-- when do I do all this? And how exactly am I to stop? I told him I was completely unaware of all this and that I'd do my best to catch myself. He said that wasn't good enough. I told him he'll have to tell me as I'm doing it because I have no idea I'm being forceful. He didn't respond. That was it.

And the ironic thing? After that, he went on to scold me for not telling them when I am upset about something. After telling me I'm too blunt to customers (which I didn't think I was--I just try to speak clearly because they're all old and can't understand my "Australian" accent), he tells me to speak up if I'm upset. I won't go into the details on that one, but the one time I've gotten upset with the management, I decided to just let it go and then I got in trouble for letting it go. Sigh. Today's a rotten day.

I shall go now and practice being soft.

Hogma-what?

Arkansans would like Britain. They have Hogmanay instead of New Year's Eve. Hogmanay. Hog. Get it? Whoooo Pig Soooieee!

We don't know what we're doing for Hogmanay yet. There is an annual ceilidh that we could go to, but I don't know. I do like the idea of my husband wearing his kilt again. Mmmm. But I also like the idea of having a party at our house. I could invite Debbie and Niall. Jonathan and Sarah. It could be fun.

Today is Mom's last day here. It's been a lovely visit. She loved everything. We have snowcapped mountains outside our window. She loved that. (So did I.) She loved Edinburgh castle. (Eh, it was the same as three years ago to me. I'm not a castle person.) Anyway, she's away in the morning. I'll miss her. But we'll be home again soon for a visit. Time is on our side.

Christmas is Saturday, in case you're a Scrooge and don't know. I wouldn't know Christmas was on Saturday, considering we get no holiday off work for it besides the day of which I don't work anyway. Grrr. Scott gets several days off. I imagine he'll be playing Halo 2. Hurray for him.

I like being married. Especially to a man with day shifts. Yeah, Scott's on day shift for a few weeks. It's brilliant. I absolutely love it. Life is good.

I'm going to drive on my own for the first time tomorrow. Prayers are appreciated.

Jesus is God. Merry Christmas.

Officially An Adult

My adulthood cannot be denied by anyone from this day forward. Not only am I 21, but I have a wife, a job, a car and a baby on the way.

HAHA. Psyche.

Interpol was absolutely marvellous. The supporting band, Secret Machines, were sucky. Which is a shame, last time they had an amazing support. Also, it was a much less personal gig this time, without exaggeration, it was 10 times bigger. But they were good, and I sang my throat sore.

We left before they came back for the encore, though, since all they had left to play was tracks from the new album, which I don't have and wasn't too bothered about. So we missed the leaving rush.

Today we opened our Christmas presents from Lynda, Lori's mum. Yes, mum. I got some rather fetching trousers, a smart shirt/tie/hankerchief combo along with a scarf and hat. Grand. Lori got a leopard skin type set of scarf, gloves, headscarf and bag. She is pleased.

Anyway, it's time for early Christmas dinner, so that Lori can have dinner with her mum, and vice versa. I'm being hurried to get off the computer. Cheerio.