shellblee's Blog

Thank you!

Ok, I can't help it, but this guy is driving me batty with all these redundant posts about 199, the lack of a response from TX D.O.T. to his letters and lack of response he's gotten from the media.

We poor little bloggers are stuck reading (or skipping over) all of it.  Now, while the point behind it is a good one...is it just me or is this guy's point getting lost and falling on deaf ears because of all the redundancy?  I think so.

Wouldn't it make more sense to combine all eleven posts (that includes the four posted on 14Feb...slow Valentines?) into ONE blog with the most current update (if any) at the top in bold? 

Just copy and paste into a new blog and add the update to the top, then delete the old one.  This way, people didn't have to go to his whole blog and run thru all the posts just to figure out what was going on. 

I don't know about you, but I might actually read the post then and comment accordingly.

Right now all the guy is getting is annoyed people commenting...

AGodthing, save yourself the trouble of having to approve, deny and delete all the comments the annoyed people make and combine your blog into one piece.  Like I mentioned previously, this would get you more good comments and less of the snippy comments. 

Just a suggestion by me, but I am sure there are quite a few other bloggers out there that agree with me...

*Total sarcasm here from a slightly frustrated person...don't take it personal*

Awww...s/he no happy!  "(readers who are responding from shellblee's blog or any other hate blog will be deleted.) "  You so cray!!!

Now bloggers of Fox4...do not bother posting on his/her blog...s/he'll just delete you.  And this would be to everyone cause every one responds to my post...silly! 

Dude, if you think this is a "Hate" blog...you are sorely mistaken.  This is a POV and had nothing negative to you or about you in it. 

*wonk wink*

Carry on!

An uplifting fictional sotry:

As the story goes...a young man had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote.." It also was the last.

Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day at the age of 17. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it,"Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him." 

Eventually it was found that Brian did not write this, but rather took it from someone else and led others to believe it was his.  This letter did give the family comfort and surely, Jesus found this card in Brian's long drawer of "Lies I Told Others" and signed his name and forgave him. 

                                                          Brian's Essay: The Room...  

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.

As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read"Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards.I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.  And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment,big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match. A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have Given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at ." Some were almost hilarious in their exactness:"Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "ThingsI Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at MyParents."

I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Eachsigned with my signature.

When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched", I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost animal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot.Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh.

And then I saw it.. The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, seemed newer,almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the over whelming shame of it all. The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key.

 But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me.

Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to signHis name over mine on each card. "No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in RED so rich,so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards.

I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door. There were still cards to be written.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me."-Phil.4:13

"For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life."

My "People I shared the gospel with" file just got bigger, how about yours?

During the holidays recently I have been on a big baking kick.  For the Christmas work party, I made 5 deserts and for Valentines I made 3.  

I have gotten email after email as well as people stopping at my desk telling me how good they were and asking for where I bought them at.  They look surprised when I tell them it's all homemade (even the crust is from scratch).  

I now have many of these co-workers telling me I am in the wrong business and that I should bake deserts for a living.  Even had one co-worker commission me to make a holiday apple pie so his wife wouldn't have to.    

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not leaving a stable job for baking pastries...but the thought that they are good enough to sell is enticing.  Question is...what on Earth would I charge for them and how do you "advertise" for something like that?    

I figured I'd make a list of all the ingredients I use and figure on the cost per oz/cup/tbsp of each ingredient (even down to the cost of a dash of salt). 

 I've also tinkered with offering real glass pans and just under cooked deserts that the single men can pop in the oven and make it look like they cooked it themselves...sneaky huh?!?

I've gotten the recipes from many cookbooks and really old timey recipes from family members.  I've found the ones dated in the early 1900's and late 1800's are the most loved ones.     

I've made:

• Fruit Pies w/homemade crust  (apple, strawberry, blueberry, cranberry apple, cherry, mixed berry)
• Lemon Chiffon Pie
• Key Lime Pie
• Banana Cream Pie
• Peach Cobbler  
• Cheesecake (2 kinds-chocolate marble and strawberry)  
• Cookies (nearly every kind)  
• Homemade Fudge  
• Muffins (cinnamon streusel)

My mother was a huge baker way back when (professional cake decorator too) and she used to make her own breads (you know, the old fashioned type that you let rise) as well as different kinds of flavored breads (zucchini nut, carrot cake, banana nut, etc...).  I haven't tried breads, but the muffins came out well so I am sure breads are soon to come.

What are some of your favorites?  What kind of deserts does your family crave?  What would you pay to have made for you?  And what price would you pay? 

I know you can get nearly anything frozen, but the thought of having a fresh option would be best...right?

Hope everyone has a SUPER DUPER Valentines!!!