Here are some pics of our trip to Duluth where I saw many family members I grew up around.

From as far back as I can remember, I was best friends with my cousin Jeannine. We played together, fought together and schemed up all kinds of crazy ideas. Jeannine wasn't your average kid to grow up with. She's the craziest kid I ever knew. Neither of us are all white, though our moms are. My biological dad is from India and hers is black. Jeannine was the cutest kid ever. She had fluffy curly blond hair, lovely eyes and a lovely complexion. Her imagination is out of this world. I can't think of anyone responsible for making me laugh more. Jeannine thinks outside the box. I don't think the box would even let her in if she asked nicely. She showed up at our family get together with her husband and "her foreign exchange student", some guy who is staying with them.

When I had to do the dishes, Jeannine and I would pretend that we were slaves of a woman named "Mrs. Penalby". Another time she told me that doing dishes was "against her religion". Another time, Jeannine put all the dishes in the sink and sprayed them down with the hose and then said they were done. Every time my mother found a dirty dish, she hid them in the oven or under a towel. She was just crazy.

When our family went to stay at a fancy lodge for several nights, another uncle offered to foot the bill. This place was posh, and complete with dining hall cathedral ceiling painted by a world famous painter with intricate murals. Jeannine took full advantage of this fact (that our uncle was paying). She ordered an expensive meal every evening. When we should have been eating off the kids menu, she ordered salmon, steak, non-alcohol champagne, etc.. Finally my uncle put his foot down and told her that she had to order a kids meal the final night. Jeannine ordered a kids burger. When the waiter brought her meal, she discovered that it didn't have any cheese on it. She got so mad, she tried to throw the bun at the waiter. When she did these crazy things, her mother would haul her off to the bathroom with her loudly screaming. My aunt would start yelling and swearing saying she was going to spank her. Then my Grandmother would start begging her not to do it. Jeannine was very dramatic. She could put on a good show. You just never knew what would happen with her around.

Jeannine wanted long hair. Since it wouldn't cooperate with her, she just wore colored tights on her head. She didn't care where she wore them or to what public function. She put barrettes on them and hair ties. Whenever she got tired of them, she changed colors. No one dared say anything about it. You just didn't mess with Jeannine.

Jeannine always insisted on calling me "Gaberin", though I hated it. Eventually I resolved to just be "Gaberin". I think I may write some stories about us later on this blog.

The Legacy of My Mothers Neurotic Behavior

I am fully acquainted with psychological deviations having worked on and off in Emergency Rooms since the age of 17. I can tell you from experience that they come in many varieties. After studying the behavior of people for quite some time, I can tell you that most people show some form of defunct behavior. I would wager that 90 % of today’s population exhibits some degree of neurotic behavior, given the proper circumstances. The other 10% I attribute to psychosis. That said, perhaps I could share with my readers the remarkable fetishes of my family.

My mother, who is close to sainthood, in my mind, has some very unique compulsions. As a child, I can remember that for quite some time, I was she and my grandmother’s obsession. I often visited the Doctor for many reasons other than illness. I also frequented the dentist. My childhood was micro managed to the extent that almost every waking and sleeping moment, some one knew what I was doing. For the sake of my sister reading this, I will add that even my toilet behavior was closely monitored.
My grandmother was also quite obsessive. Whenever I asked to go for a walk, she would send me out with a cup full of pepper to throw into anyone’s eyes who might try to harm me. I was only allowed to walk about 2-3 cabins past our property. Then I had to come straight back.
When I was about 12 or 13, my mother “got saved”. She was a single mom, working full time to support us girls. She had been searching for quite some time. She sailed through many new interests prior to this conversion. At the time I thought it was one of her passing trends. After all, not long before this she had gotten into cooking with a wok, taking guitar lessons, and getting her green belt in karate. I still remember the time she said “when I die, bury me in my Ge”.
It is quite extra-ordinary how it all happened now that I think about it. One day my mother prayed the salvation prayer with a carpenter who was working on our house. After that, she suddenly took an interest in this church not far away from our home. It was not unusual for her to be excited about something new, but this new trend didn’t go away easily. My mother blared Christian Radio in the car. She started saying “praise the Lord” all the time. She even began making odd sounds with a new thing she called “praying in tongues”. She carried her bible all over the place with her. If ever there was an excited new convert, it was my mother.
I tolerated all these things for the most part. It was when some well meaning church person told her that she needed to instruct her children in these things that it really affected me. Suddenly, I was not only in school Monday through Friday and Dance Classes every entire Saturday, but we now had a place to be on Sundays. My grandmother rebelled at first, but when she saw that my mother was determined, she eventually gave in and started going along with her. For a while, when she was angry, she would shout on the top of her lungs “You call yourself and Christian and……..” to whatever behavior she didn’t approve of in my mother. We also quit our beloved tradition of going to the local eating establishment (which was a bar). My Grandmother would order a “Harvey Wall Banger” and my Mother would order a “Vodka Collins”. I would play video games, eat greasy food, and be entertained by drunk Minnesotans.
We were quite an amusing scene at the local church. In the morning, I would try to get out of going to church. Eventually I was forced to go. This was the first time ever that my mother made me do anything. My sister would happily go along. In the car, my mother would blast her Christian Radio station saying “praise the Lord” and I would try to change the station. My sister would narc on me. I would come to learn that I could never escape from Christian Radio stations in the years to follow. My grandmother would pack my little sister a container of butter, a knife and some crackers. Every Sunday, my sister would sit underneath the front pew buttering the crackers and happily munching on them. Lively music would play and people would get excited. Quiet music would play and people would raise their arms. The pastor would deliver a message. Some Chinese lady behind me would begin to loudly speak. I never did locate her as many times as I tried to.
This went on for quite some time. Every Sunday I could hear the pastor inviting us to come up and “get saved”. Every Sunday, this invisible force would compel me to the front. Even then, I was terrified of people and the idea of making a spectacle of myself in front of an entire church was enough to make me want to vomit.
I knew it was only a matter of time before this invisible force had its way with me. It never quit compelling me forward. Some times I would grip the sides of the pew to hold myself back. It didn’t just pursue me in the church. It began to follow me every where I went. It was there with me in the morning and at night constantly pursuing me. One day I couldn’t take it. It was an evening service at the church with a special speaker. I was particularly concerned about going up there because I was a 7th grader by then, and a 12th grade boy had taken it upon himself to begin hitting on me. We were sitting together in the back of the church. My mother was oblivious to these things because as a new Christian, everything was wonderful and all that mattered was God. I really wanted to impress this guy. Going up there would commit “cool” suicide. The pull became unbearable though, and up I went along with some others. “Welcome to the kingdom of God” my mother kept loudly telling us all after the service.
Once I said “yes” just once to that invisible force, my life would never be the same. It would pursue me to no end. Everything became fresh and new and I was constantly hungry for more of it. It was there when I woke up in the morning. It was there when I went to bed at night. Reading my Bible, I’d eventually curl up and sleep with it (though I hid this fact from my mother). Though I didn’t want anybody to know, this invisible force consumed me. It took me to places no one could ever understand. It was like having a supernatural best friend. One day all by myself I asked it if I could have that gift my mom had, and just like that, it gave it to me.
The problem was, it was jealous. It wouldn’t let my affections happily pursue much else. I was particularly most miserable trying to get drunk or high. It would loudly ask me “is this really making you happy?”. I couldn’t turn any direction without it being there, waiting for me. Once I gave it first place in my life again, there was a tremendous relief. Perhaps I am a bit neurotic or fixated on Him, but I can’t help myself. He continually demands my eyes fixed on Him. When I look elsewhere, misery is sure to follow. The cool thing about Him, is that He gives me supernatural insight. He tells me which way to go. He gives me vision, passion, and self worth.
As for my families other strange fixations, well there are many of them, though none anywhere near as purposeful. Just the other day my mother and I were discussing some of her fetishes. They involved a chiropractor, a naturopath and a furniture store. It seems there is no end to the experts she consults. She drives her mechanics close to insanity. She can spend many an hour discussing the inherent evils of msg, pork and acidic foods. She lives on goat cheese, organic cherry juice and chocolate. These trends come and go. I can’t remember her cooking with a wok since I was a child. She no longer pursues karate. She doesn’t play her guitar much. As for God, well that fetish has never passed.

Baking Pies Together

I really like this picture of my Father in law baking pies with our daughter.

Hiking on a Frozen Swamp in Minnesota

Allow me to introduce you to my in laws. They're not quite your average grandparent type figures. My father in law, for example, loves to do really cool things. He can be seen popping wheelies on his motorcycle as he drives by his home in the summer time when the kids are out playing on the front lawn. During the summer, he goes for motorcycle rides with them and takes them fishing. In the winter, he drives them around on his snowmobile and they target practice firearms together. When our oldest daughter was little, she wanted to grow up to be a small engine mechanic just like him. When our oldest son has cool experiences, the first person he wants to call isn't another teen, its his grandfather.
We must not leave out their grandmother. Last night, there was a conversation about target practice. The kids encouraged me to challenge their grandmother to a shooting contest. Kiana figured I shouldn't bother, because, undoubtedly her grandmother would win. I know better, anyway, than to take on someone coined "Dead Eye Debbie". She is also dubbed "The Gift Giver", because she gives more gifts to more people than anyone I know. On Christmas, the entire living room is so full of presents that there is only room for each child to sit in one spot and not move. The presents tower over them so that once they are handed the presents, you can no longer see the child. She also has the incredible knack to find just the right thing for whomsoever she is buying the gift for. She reads the kids stories at night or plays games with them. She encourages most every hobby they pursue. I fear I will never be quite the grandparent that they are when my time comes. The children all think they're the best thing ever.
I have spent many an hour hiking on the frozen swamp behind their house on this visit. My father in law made all kinds of neat trails over the frozen bog. I've been making "swamp bouquets" out of the cedar, balsam, cat tails and other shrubbery and weeds I have found out there. Today it warmed up to 0 or a little above, so we all took a long hike in the swamp. It was so much fun. Karsten and Kaleb watched vigilantly for Sasquatch lingering around, but they didn't see any. We saw a deer and 2 snowshoe hares. The rabbits were so pretty. I tried to photograph them, but my camera batteries refused to be resurrected.
Here are some photos of the breakfast I prepared before we marched across the frozen bog. Cheesy Hash browns, Sausage and Gingerbread Snowman Pancakes as an accompaniment to eggs. It is decorated with one of my "swamp bouquets".

My Dysfunctional Relationship with People

Recently I have been visiting our relatives in Minnesota. As I hike through the frozen swamp behind my in laws home, it occurred to me that I may have a dysfunctional relationship with people in general.



This is how it started..... I was born into a home full of females. 1. My mother of course 2. My grandmother 3. My Aunt. Eventually, my sister, who is 7 years younger than me replaced my aunt. There were never any men in the equation. My experiences in Kindergarten were sketchy. My first distinct recollection of male interaction (other than with uncles and such) was a boy I called "charcoal booger". I called him this because he always had green snot running down his nose and his last name reminded me of charcoal. I will not elaborate any further on him other than to say that he once said to me in gym class "hey baby lets smooch". This was a shocking thing to hear as a kindergartner, particularly because of the green snot visualization. From then on, I developed an aversion to the male species. God does have a sense of humor, and gave me a husband (who came from an all boy family) along with 3 sons. I have since come to appreciate the male species because of this. However, in most of my growing up years, I experienced extreme anxiety around them.

It may have been this random incident, or possibly because of the time I was excommunicated from a church. Regardless of why, people in general at times cause me to suffer extreme anxiety.

Most of the time this is not true working the night shift as an ER nurse. When the nice and normal day shift people have left, all the odd balls come out to work. I relate to these odd balls well, because I am one of them. Working as an ER nurse is not a normal interaction with people anyway. Let me tell you why. Say for instance, you were having a heart attack. Instead of saying "nice to meet you", I am removing their clothing in order to attach a heart monitor and do an EKG. Rather than shake a hand, I am sticking needles into it. It is a very unusual way to interact with a perfect stranger. Only in hospitals is this kind of behavior appropriate. Please don't try it any where else.
When I am forced to interact with people, I sometimes feel I must pretend to be "normal". The problem is, I don't know what "normal" is. I fake it, but I don't pull it off well. After studying other people over time, I have come to the conclusion that many of them are trying to pretend to be "normal" as well. Here's some good scriptures for all of you faking it odd balls.

1 John 3
1 Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called children of God! Therefore the world does not know us,because it did not know Him. 2 Beloved, now we are children of God; and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be, but we know that when He is revealed, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is. 3 And everyone who has this hope in Him purifies himself, just as He is pure.

1 John 1 : 7 But if we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanses us from all sin.

We must all embrace our individuality. We must no longer pretend to be normal. Yes, people may think we are weird, but that's o.k., because, after all, we are. Being weird and interacting with people actually provides great blog writing material if you can maintain your sense of humor.

How God Fixed Our Toilet (and how my husband got saved)

Recently, I decided to start writing about miracles in our lives. Thus far, I have written about 2 financial miracles we've had, and about how God took care of us when we were having airplane problems. You can read all about that stuff back in 2008 Archives. Today I'm going to tell my readers about how my husband got saved.



I will spare you the details of my heathen teenage years. Sufficed to say that I found myself in my early 20's married to an atheist, myself a "backslider", fighting to get through college and just trying to get by. We'd had our first baby, Kevin III, and neither of us were particularly ready to grow up just yet, let alone, raise a baby. I was reaping a lot of things I'd sown and I didn't particularly like the harvest I was getting. Its not that I didn't love my family, its more that I did, and I felt guilty for putting myself (and them) in such a home life. I knew better than the choices I had made. As a child, I believed that I was supposed to go to Bible College and become a missionary. I was sure that God had cursed my life and that nothing could possibly go right since I had "unequally yoked".

I tried going to churches after Kevin and I were together, but they didn't sit well with me. The first one I thought I could get away with living a little sinful in. They seemed like the "anything goes" kind of church, and it was. I was awfully bored there. I didn't grow much. I didn't feel God there much either. Its not that He wasn't there, it just wasn't right for me. It could have been that every time I left after a service, the pastors son in law would ask me where my husband was. Instead of saying "He's not a Christian", I found a stupid excuse to tell him. He always shook his head piously and said "How sad, how sad, a woman in church without her husband". Then he would say "how sad, how sad, a baby in church without its father." I got rather tired of this routine and I had the strange sensation to slap him and say "how sad, how sad, a moron in the door of this church every week."

The next church I went to was a little more the kind I had grown up in. The problem was that they were just too nice. They were so nice, unfortunately, that they never let me in the service with my baby. My options were : 1. let a strange woman babysit my child in the nursery, or 2. sit in the nursery with my child the entire service. 1. Was not an option to me, 2. left me wasting my time. I chose option 3. and quit going there.

The last church was kind of crazy. The people were kinda strange, but they were very welcoming and they seemed to genuinely want me there (with or without my husband). They got really excited when I told them my husband wasn't a Christian and decided to take it upon themselves to "pray him into the kingdom". Along with years of my mothers heartfelt prayers, he didn't stand a chance. The first church promised me it was scriptural that my husband would get saved but told me sadly "it may not be until after you are dead". These people were lively in their services, and I could always feel God's Presence there. It wasn't long before I had rededicated my life to God and told Him this time I would never stray again. I gave my husband to Him and told Him that I was serving God no matter what comes. Despite some of the strange things people did in that church, I knew they loved and accepted me.

It wasn't long before things started to change at home. I'm not talking about my husband either. He told me "I noticed you started keeping the house cleaner". I also gave my best attempt at "submission". I'll never forget the time that he told me I couldn't go to church. I went upstairs to pray (a place I'd been frequenting a lot since the submission thing started). I wasn't there long before he sent me off to church. I discovered that when I quit rebelling and started praying, things changed fast. I was actually seeing supernatural changes in my house.

I had borrowed these crazy "Gospel Bill Show" tapes I would bring home from church. At first Kevin wouldn't allow them in the house. Later he started watching them (until the preaching part came on). Then one day, I was in the shower, and I heard Gospel Bill on. He had put it on for out baby himself. This was getting exciting!

My sister, Heather and I had been planning a long awaited get away at a Christian Rock Festival called "Sunshine" in Wilmar, Minn.. We were really excited about it. I did everything possible to try and leave the house in good order for when I would be gone. I didn't want any problems with my marriage. Things were going so much better these days. The day before I was ready to leave, you guessed it, the toilet in our bedroom got plugged. At the time, Kevin was going to college for Aviation. He was gone during the day taking classes. I was home and trying desperately to get the toilet unplugged. I tried plunging for what seemed like an eternity. I tried household unclogging agents (with what money I could scrape together). Nothing worked. To my horror, during the process, I'd flushed the toilet and there was a horrible mess all over the floor. I was feeling rather desperate. I really wanted to escape to that festival and I knew Kevin wouldn't want me leaving that way. Finally in desperation, I laid hands on the toilet and prayed. I'm talking a heart felt fervent prayer asking God to please fix our toilet.

Eventually the time came, and Kevin let me leave without being upset I was leaving the bathroom unusable. On the way out, I left a note on the landlords house saying that the toilet was not working. The concert was fabulous. Heather and I had a blast! Heather was really into the News Boys. "Ratty", Heathers favorite player had a drum set that rotated upside down for his drum solo. I got my picture taken with John James, the lead singer. We had so much fun! Right before they came on, the crowd seemed to part in front of us. Partly because some obnoxious boys were pushing people. We discovered that if we stayed in front of them, they would just push us up there to the front row. When we got up there, a guy said "hey, how'd you get up here?" We just shrugged our shoulders. He said he'd been sitting there all day long. We got to talking and some where in there, he prophesied to me. He said "your husband is getting saved". I nodded my head. I was believing for that to happen. What I didn't understand was that right then, he was indeed, getting saved.

All by himself, he watched a Gospel Bill Show and prayed the salvation prayer at the end of the show. He said He felt this indescribable feeling and knew that everything had changed. Of course he refused to tell me about this experience. He didn't want to admit that I had been right. When I got home, I was shocked to find that the toilet worked. I told Kevin God must have fixed it. He just shrugged his shoulders and smiled. I went back to the landlords house and left another note. "God fixed our toilet" I wrote. The landlord later showed up wondering what kind of tenants he had. "I want to know how God fixed your toilet" he demanded. After checking it out himself, he left, thinking I was a fruitcake.

It wasn't long before Kevin had watched all the Gospel Bill movies in the church. He even started going with me to the church to get more (when the building was empty). I saw him leave some money in the offering plate once. Gospel Bill had taught him about sowing and reaping. Finally I told him "Kevin, all the movies have been watched, you have to start coming to church if your hungry". Another person had also told me that he felt Kevin was getting saved soon. He was the Wednesday Night Speaker. Little did I know, on a Wednesday night about 15 years ago, my husband would come to church with me for the first time ever (as a Christian). That night, he confessed he had gotten saved. I felt like I was walking on air. As for the toilet, well, it never gave us any further difficulties.

Toilet Fixation at My Sister Heather's

Recently, I visited my sister, Heather's house. My sister Heather is perfect in every sense of the word. Well, as perfect as a sister can be anyway. She's sweet, supportive and nice in every way. When we were kids growing up, I called her the "narc" because she always told on me. While I was out carousing, smoking, drinking and running around with my boyfriend, she was playing piano and learning praise and worship, going to church and being an all around obedient girl. She was a straight A student. She was a Spelling Bee champion. She excelled in everything imaginable.

Of course, as a wife and mother she would excel as well, which is why this story is so amusing to me. Heather has 2 adorably perfect children. They are sweet, smart and close to graduating from college at ages 2 and 3. Heather lives in a really ultra organized basement apartment. She even has a perfectly nice landlord who lives on top of her house. Heather's house is always sanitized and clean. Once, she wiped all my living room furniture down with sanitizing cloths.

In the middle of the night, up a mountain in the wilderness, in our home, our adventure began. Kevin didn't sleep well and decided that we should leave a little earlier than we'd planned - 3 am. We began the 26 hour trek to Minnesota. Despite pulling some unmotivated teenagers out of a ditch and driving on ice for a good part of the way, we made fairly decent time. The kids became rowdy at hour 24. They all took off their socks and shoes and began tormenting each other with the raunchy smell of their own feet. When we got within a few hours of Heather's home, she presented us with an odd request. "Please use the bathroom at the gas station". I've always known Heather to be tidy, but not using her bathroom, well that's eccentric altogether. Remember, I have 5 children and a husband. Not occupying the bathroom for more than 5 minutes is a feat. Her excuse for this gas station bathroom trip was that they were having septic problems. At the gas station near Heather's home, we found out it, too, was closed. I secretly wondered if she called and warned them we were coming. "Wow", I mused to myself, "no one here in Minnesota has an available bathroom". I wondered if it had been a conspiracy. The gas station man did let us use his showers for the bathroom, and after attempting to sell us many of his wares, we were on our way.

When we got to Heathers, it was around 3am. Heather promised a man would be coming first thing in the am to look at her bathroom. The plot had thickened. Heather showed us a secret alarm in her closet (which she later informed us was a utility room). She said if the green light was on we had the "thumbs up to flush". Just consult the panel, no problem. Of course having a secret toilet panel in your closet is very unusual and caused my imagination to run with no end in sight. As you all know, Heather is married to a secret Ninja. Perhaps his secret missions had to do with that toilet alarm panel. Heather informed us not to panic if the toilet light alarmed. She showed us how to "silence" it.

In the morning after a few hours of sleep, I REALLY had to go to the bathroom. I couldn't find my PJ's, so I had just thrown on some long under ware to sleep in. As I groggily progressed to the bathroom, Heather stopped me. "There's a man in my closet" she informed me. I turned around and plodded my way back to my room to get dressed. After finally finding some clothes, I progressed to the bathroom. "Wait" she said "let's ask the man permission". After we secured permission from the man, I progressed to empty my bladder. I wondered if I could flush. We again consulted the man in her closet. The man said "yes" we may flush. I felt a little awkward about consulting a strange man to preform bodily functions. I secretly wondered if he was tied into the ninja lifestyle or if maybe it was just Heathers ultra organized personality.

Later the landlord made a short appearance and consumed 2 of the huckleberry (hope for the best) whole grain muffins I offered him. He, too, disappeared into my sisters closet. A little boy followed suit. Strangely, as my bowels thought they might explode, an entire group of men inhabited Heathers secret panel closet. They carried boxes in and out. I thought I may have seen a throwing star protruding from the new pump box. They complained loudly about the smell emerging from Heathers closet. They made strange sounds. I began to wonder if an entire ninja convention would assemble in Heather's closet. Heather just kept on insisting "its not a closet, it's a storage utility room". "Don't tell people there are men in my closet". I tried to photograph Heather's toilet but she wouldn't let me. She assured me that she didn't want to remember this for posterity.

Later the men encouraged us to shower and flush the toilet. This again was a very unique experience. I would have thought more about the subject of strange men encouraging me to use the toilet and shower, but my bowels prohibited it.

At last we were free to visit and I was able to enjoy my favorite pass time, shopping. Heather is a short drive from great shopping. Heather had gotten a perfect fish tank for her girls for Christmas. The tank has symmetrical colors of gravel equally divided. There is a cave and a plant and also a flower evenly spaced in the tank. She has 2 perfectly shaped goldfish swimming happily in the tank. If ever there was a perfect aquarium, Heather would have it. A happy water fall filter trickles water making the aquarium sing in perfect harmony. I would need to upset this perfect harmony with none other than a "poop fish."

After the fighting a throng of people at Wal-mart to the pet section, I asked the man at the pet section if he had any "scum suckers". He said he did. Just then an odd looking woman asked me to move. I went to the Christmas section. The same odd looking woman asked me to move there as well. I went back to the pet section suspecting my sister may have hired a private investigator to trail me. I thought about asking her if she knew any ninjas, but thought better of it. I then went back to the pet department and purchased the "poop fish". After spending 3 hours in a mob of Wal-mart shoppers, I and the poop fish made our way back to Heathers home.

When I surprised Heather with the poop fish, she was just that, surprised. She feared the poop fish upsetting the perfect harmony of her aquarium. After all, the poop fish doesn't really swim much. He just lays around and eats poop. You never know where you'll see him. Sometimes stuck on the side of the glass. Sometimes he's hiding in the cave. Sometimes he's sitting on a plant. The thing the poop fish never does is swim and look pretty like the gold fish. He's always laying around doing nothing but eating poop. This suited Heathers tank well (in my mind).

Really, we all had a wonderful time at Heather's house. She made lovely meals for us. We had fun together bringing in the New Year. I immensely enjoyed her kids, husband, and even her newly acquired "poop fish". Kardelen named all three of the fish "Zoe" after the landlords dog. It was great spending some time with my sister. Maybe next time there won't be any men in her closet.