...i am a princess on the way to my throne...


One Tired Jesus-Freak 

I am blogging against my better judgment for I have had not drop one of any coffee, which means I am operating on partial brain capacity and numbed perspective. That said, I do not claim full responsibility for what I say whilst under the influence of a non-caffeinated mind.

I told myself I would not use this blog as a toxic dumping ground for self-pity or negativity, mainly for two reasons:

1) It's not healthy


2) No body wants to read my whining anyway.

I won't go into excrutiating detail, but I will, however, say this: despite the common acceptance that's it is alright to poke fun at the 'crazy Christians' around this time of year, I will stand fast. I am a Christian, and I am not ashamed. I will continue to love people, and pray for people, and make people angry with my "proselytizing", something which I do everyday by my very actions. I do not set out to offend, but I will not stop saying the word "Jesus" or "salvation" because there are some who feel religion should be private and not "preached".

I love the online community I participate in. I now have some very dear friendships with women that have become an intergal part of my life, and I cherish that. Before participating in any online discussion, I weigh my words very carefully and try to choose wisely (that does not always happen, but it's not for lack of trying). Please understand: I love people because I love Jesus. If it wasn't for Him I'd be a total slug. I want people to know Him the way I know Him. I try so hard to be kind and loving with others, because I may be the only Jesus some people ever see. There are times, however, when I feel so alienated because of Whom I worship that I wonder if daily participation is worth it. I should be beyond the hurt of some thoughtless comments I've seen tossed about with nary a thought about "those Christians", but, alas, I'm not. It hurts. That, however, is my failing and something I need to deal with.

I suppose, however, it wouldn't hurt so bad if it didn't come from people I've been around for such a long time. I know I am taking things personally, but considering I'm one of the most conservative (if not the most conservative) Christians on the board it's hard not to be a little affected. I honestly don't think people are setting out to be mean, but it still ouches.

Not your normal Fully Caffeinated fare, I realize, but what is the good of this blog if I can't remain real? It's better than disappearing in a hole somewhere, never to be seen again. I really don't want to do that, and I don't want to clutter the boards with a bunch of "no, that's not true" or "no, it's really this way" kind of jargon. Sometimes, the greatest strength in a person comes from them knowing when to talk and when to be quiet. Trust me, I'm quiet far more than I want to be, but it's necessary. You can't give someone meat when they are still on milk, for you will choke them to death and no purpose will be served for either of you.

I'll get over this. I always do. I'm affected by far more than I ever let on, because I don't cause a scene, or at least I try not to. Maybe I should try to diva approach, and stomp and snort and scream about how unfair and intolerant everyone is being, but that's just not my style. Sooo, I will continue to be the same as I have been, with a lot more prayer for improvement in the sensitive department and understanding that if it walks like a duck, sounds like a duck, and quacks like a duck it's probably not an elephant.

In other words: take everything that is said with a grain of salt, smile, and just hang on to Jesus.

Sounds like a plan.:)

La Mood:disappointed


Grab A Torch, Ethel, There Be Trolls Ahead! 

Do you know why I hate this time of year? Because it brings out all the TROLLS!!

Someone get me a torch, will ya?


Please allow me to expotulate later, for right now all I want is my coca-cola polar bear (not to be mistaken with my son's ragged-but-beloved stuffed creature), fleecy jammies, and a warm bed. Perhaps I'll even light a candle so the room can be filled with the scent of sugary vanilla to help drive away the 'ick' of the day.

Yeesh. Who would have thought so much drama could come from cross stitching bulletin boards? It would seem some of us really don't get out much.


I've heard in the past that all stitchers are thought to be kind little old ladies who bake apple pies and stitch ornaments for their grandchildren. Hah; as if. It seems that stereotype has been smashed to bits by some of the latest antics. I think the phrase backstabbing gossipy harpy trolls wielding needles like daggers with a penchant for shedding harmonious blood would be more appropriate to describe a small handful of the women I've seen around one of the boards lately.

Kind little old ladies indeed. Don't I just wish!

I think perhaps another computer fast is in the works for this happy-go-lucky camper. My spirit's getting soiled, and for me that does not bode well.

I need something to get my mind off all this junk, a distraction, a diversion. Oh, yes, I know just the thing...

For Brynna:



She's gonna kill me. I am so dead.

During times like this, I am not above taunting my fifteen year old niece (who is an avid Legolas admirer) and trying to convince her that Haldir, despite his snobbery, is far, faaaaaaaaar cooler than Legoli Le Blonde.

Okay, so I may stand in the vast minority for that opinion, but you got to admit...there is something to be said about an elf with attitude.

Well, there you have it; I'm getting weird. Time for bed. I hope all this doesn't wack out my dreams. I would not like to awaken from hours of having dreamed of Haldir and Legoals as apple-pie baking cross stitchers slaying internet trolls with flaming ornaments. I don't think I'd ever recover.

After all, 'The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins' is nightmare enough to last anyone a lifetime...

La Mood:sleepy


Just In Time For Halloween 

I have something I want to share with you.

It is not a joke, it is not a gag.

It's real, and it's horrifying.

Something frightening. Something stomach-churning.

It's something so startling, so terrifying that I'm not even sure I should be posting it here. For all to see. For you. For your family.

Bewarned. Beware.

One word of warning: you will need Windows Media Player downloaded to participate.

Now...take a deep breath. Brace yourself.

You ready?

be afraid. be very afraid...

Okay. Here we go...

The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins


Leonard, O Leonard! What were you possibly thinking?!?

The only conclusion I can draw is that he wasn't thinking. The first time I saw it I just sat there, frozen in disbelief, mouth open and eyes bulging, like a perverse moth drawn to a flame; the more my body screamed, "Stop watching! I can't take it anymore!!" the more my eyes glued themselves to the screen, helpless to turn away. And trust me, it's gets worse with each watching. Whoever told that poor man than that video was cool and sexy and totally groovy was making more money than they possbily deserved. C'mon, this is bad even for the 60s!

Flash forward forty-something years: It has just been announced that William Shatner has released his very own CD titled "Has Been". Please let this be a joke. Or at the very least produced by people other than the ones at the "Ballad of Bilbo Baggins" camp.

Is this was so many years of Star Trek has done to these people? O, my beloved Spock and Kirk, what kind of freakishness has befallen you?? Fortunately, I think Leonard's bout of temporary insanity came and went with the psychodelic bunny-hopping tartlets of his ill-fated video. Alas, it would seem that William Shatner's has just begun.

I am afraid. I am very afraid...



Imagine waking up one morning and discovering your child is missing.

He is not in the backyard. He is not in the side yard. He is not in the neighbor's yard.

He is nowhere.

Imagine trying to push back the panic and remain calm as your husband says, "I am going to get in the car and drive around the block."

Imagine losing the battle to push back the panic when your husband returns ten minutes later with a look on his face that tells you your child is no where to be found.

Imagine turning to walk into the house, stumbling on the concrete steps as realize your child is really gone. Your body breaks into heaving sobs, your vision blurred from a torrent of fearful tears.

Imagine how your body turns numb when your husband tells you, "Honey, call 911."

The flood of tears unleashes and you scream into the phone that your child is missing, and you have no answers to give them when they ask you how long. You do not even know what he was wearing the night before, for you were at a cross stitching Get Together and he was in bed long before you returned home. Fortunately, your husband, who had tucked your child in at his bedtime, does remember and can give them some more information.

A bright blue Nemo shirt. He was wearing a bright blue Nemo shirt and dark underwear...

Imagine your husband taking you by the shoulders, looking into your eyes, and saying in a voice far less steady than his demeanor, "Honey, please, stay with me. I need you with me, and I need you strong. For David. For me."

Imagine nodding in agreement, and doing your best even though a million voices are screaming within you, "David!! Where are you???"

Imagine the police flooding your home. Imagine family, friends, beloved church members, cross stitchers, and total strangers rallying together to pray and search for your beloved, lost child.

Imagine, after the whirlwind of search parties by hundreds of volunteers, the shock when the police inform you that you and your husband have be taken the next day to complete polygraph tests, the shadow that ever hangs over you, never stated and yet always implied, that your are suddenly a suspect in your child's disappearance.

Imagine your world as it begins to cave.

Imagine night falling. You are alone in your bed while your husband waits for his mother to arrive from out of town. All you can do is lie there, torturing yourself with images of your child lost in the woods, possibly being beaten, molested, or worse.

Imagine the supernatural peace of God that floods you, for a precious moment, reminding you to trust Him. And you do. Implicitly. For that shining moment, you do trust Him.

For God is the only thing that will get you through this.

Imagine becoming a national news story is the space of under twelve hours. Imagine four major networks camping outside your home all day long, hoping to get a glimpse of the suffering family.

Imagine surviving the next day, numbly going through the motions of combing your hair and brushing your teeth, not caring how you look. Imagine facing five grueling hours of travel and questioning, facing questions such as:

"Did you in any way harm your son?"
"Did you have anything to do with your son's disappearance?"
"Did you kill your son?"

Imagine. Imagine the horror of losing your child and being blamed for it.

Imagine the frustration at learning both your and your husband's polygraph came out "inconclusive" because you were under too much emotional duress for your answers to be "consistent". Imagine your relief, albeit brief, when you learn that is common in such cases. Imagine your hopelessness when it's suggested you might have to submit to another polygraph in a few days.

Imagine the weariness as you are taken to the police station for yet more questioning. Imagine the screams within you that want to fly from your throat, "Why are you people doing this?? Why won't anyone listen?? He got out on his own and wandered too far from home, and now he's lost!! Why won't anyone believe us??!?"

Imagine being asked questions regarding every minute detail of your marriage, from finances to your sex life and you, wanting to be as co-operative as possible, answer them.

Imagine the blessing you feel to discover that you and your husband answered in near identical ways, proving to them that you really are a couple who is honest and who loves each other and your children.

Imagine returning home, exhaustion filling your entire body. You finally collapse on your child's bed, devoid of sheets that were taken by the police as possible evidence, and you cry. You sob. You scream. Your body shudders and buckles beneath the strain of the day and you sense nothing other than your husband weeping beside you and the arms of God around you.

Trust me, He whispers. And once again you are filled with that strange peace that everything will be fine.

Imagine feeling the first pricks of encouragement when the private scent dog team picks up your child's scent. Imagine wanting to stay up all night and go with them, but understanding the need to stay at home.

Once again, night assaults your senses. Once again, your child is still somewhere out there, and he is alone.

Or so you think. And part of you hopes.

Imagine the surreal quality of entering day three without your firstborn child. Imagine trying to care for your youngest child, but thankful for the family that surrounds you that can take on that task. Imagine hating the fact that you have to eat, but understanding you have to keep up your energy.

Imagine having no energy, but having to fake it.

Imagine your world changing in a blink of an eye.

Imagine how your world turns from pure hell to pure joy when it's reported to you that your child is found alive and unharmed.

Imagine how your heart burst with joy and pride, tears flowing freely, as the back of the ambulance doors open and you get a peek of one skinny pink leg. You don't feel anything other than pure elation as the three of you cling to each other, and you don't even bother with the pain that shoots up your knees as you sink to the ground in one grateful, tearful lump. All you can do is thank God for His mercy, and praise Him for His miracle.

David survived 55 hours on his own. The most he had to show for it was a couple of scratches and some very mild dehydration. Volunteers who combed the woods surrounding us found ravines, poisonous snakes, poison ivy, and other such undesirables that could take the life of a little boy, or at the very least hurt him severely. For His own reason and purpose, God saw fit to spare our little boy and bring him back safely into the arms of the mother and father who love him.

I have birthed an extraordinary child and I serve an extraordinary God. May I be shamed if I take either for granted.

Sadly, sometimes I do take them both for granted. Just this morning I'm fussing because things are not going "right" and I'm tired. We've all been sick lately, and the kids still have a touch of the stomach flu, which equals weak tummies and it is not pleasant. When we are tired, frustrated, or worn out, it's so easy to forget the blessings and miracles that bestow themselves on us everyday. We allow anger and hurt to flood our communities, private and on line, because we lose focus on what is truly meaningful. We need to guard against this, because we never know what the future brings. And, as I found out that early August morning, the future is not some far off somewhere-out-there; is the very next minute of our lives. To allow petty things jar our perspectives and get in the way of loving each other is a dangerous and shameful thing, because we never know when we will wake up one morning and find the other gone, without a warning, without a word, without a trace.

Love each other. Get perspective. Life is too short and too unpredictable to do anything else.

Meet my miracle child:

Now go hug and kiss your own.


Paris Hilton and Mary Cheney, Not Necessarily Together... 

I'm tired. I'm worn out. I've been sick for over a week with some disgusting head cold, and the minute I get even partially well my children contact some sort of stomach virus that makes what I had look like a sleigh-ride. Then, when I finally get back online, I have over 500 e-mails waiting to be opened and a semi-controversy stewing on my very own board.

I'm tired. I already said that, didn't I? I know, I know, I'm not thinking clearly and it's showing.


I had planned out an entire rant revolving around Paris Hilton and the whole "John Kerry Mentioned Mary Cheney!" shebang, but I'm just too durn flaky to make it sound sensible so I don't think I will even try. I will, however, say this: on the cover of the YM magazine is a picture of Paris Hilton looking poised, pouty, and perky, gazing at us from behind starchly bleached Farah-flips. The caption boldly proclaims something along the lines of, "Paris Hilton! Heiress! Actress! Singer! Author! And More Like You Than You Know!"

Yea, right. I would wager to think that most of the Young Miss readers are pubescent, pimply, Christina Aguilera wanna-bees that go to school in the mornings, stuff themselves with Cheetoes and Diet Coke in the afternoons, and gab all night via Yahoo Instant Messaging with girlfriends about that "dreeeeeeeamy Orlando!". Huh. Color me doubtful, but I would be real surpised if any one of them was born with more money than she will ever see in her life, performed twice in an amatuer porno video (yes yes, I know, it was for private use only!), starred in a sleazy "reality" show with Nicole Ritchie, or cut a music single entitled, in an oddly appropriate way, "Screwed." Now, I don't know, it might just be me, but I don't see in any way, shape, or form how Paris Hilton has anything in common with these girls.

Well, okay, maybe the crush on Orlando. Since I seem to be the only person sporting a healthy does of estrogen that does not find Orlando expressly appealing, I can say with complete objectivity that I wouldn't put it past Paris to dump any current boy-toy that meets her fancy and sail away with Orlando in tanning-bed bliss.

Now, before anyone starts banging down my door about how much I hate Paris, let me assure you I do not. The truth is I feel sorry for her. Look: here is a woman with *everything* at her fingertips, and so far the most her young life has produced has been, well, smut. She could be anything she wanted to be. Am I judgemental? You bet,and sometimes that is not a bad thing. It's 'judgements' that help people get a little perspective at how much more they have to offer, and in turn, be offered. When I see a woman with as much capacity and opprutunity as she has to do something extraordinary -and by extraoridinary I mean anything from becoming an nuclear engineer, becoming a hard working teacher, becoming a CEO of a mega-million dollar company, or becoming the best parent your child ever had- and instead throws it out the window for clothing that wouldn't even cover my daughter's baby doll and a life that's been pretty much debauch, then that leaves me feeling sad. Sad for her. Sad for what she could be. The upside is, however, that God has a plan for everyone, and Paris hasn't been left out yet. I pray she finds Him and gets a little peace in her life, for God only knows how she can have any peace living the road she's paving.

As far as the John Kerry/Mary Cheney thing goes, I'm not going to rant about Senator Kerry. Nope, I'm sure not. He said what he said, for better or for worse, and frankly that horse has been kicked to death (I refer to the discussion in regards to his words, not the Senator himself). I'll just say this: What.Ever. Of course, my vote was fixed before the debates, which was probably how it was for 99 percent Americans. I didn't buy the "we have a whole meeting house of undecided voters" jargin at all that they tried to sell us for that one debate. Unless George Bush came out and proclaimed partial-birth abortion as the answer to modern medicine, or that Saddam Hussein was really the long awaited Jewish Messiah (whose already come, by the way) then I think there is very little that would persude me to vote otherwise. I have a feeling a lot of people, Republican and Democrat, feel the same way about their prefered candidates.

Well. It seems like I was able to make some sense out of those subjects, after all. Of course, I may come back an hour later and have a hefty re-read, only to think, "Yeesh, what was I thinking?" Ah well, it will then be too late. Today is Fully Caffeinated: Raw and Uncut, and I'm not editing anything. Call me lazy.

By the by, I apologize if I'm late in returning any e-mails. 500 is an awful lot to go through, so it's going to take me a while. Most of them are just from the Flylady newsletter, so I can pretty much let my finger work the delete key. Why do I do this to myself? Everytime I turn over a new leaf concerning my e-mail, something silly happens like me going and getting sick and then I don't check it for five days. Of course, I can't completely blame it on that; I've been harping about my horrible e-mail etiquitte for how long now?

Pray for me.


Blah Blee Blah 

Blah blah blah, blahblahblah.

Blah blee blah, blahblahblah bu blah bu blah.

Mee mee moo mee mee moo blah blah blah blah meemeemee.

It is almost 1 PM Eastern Standard and I have nothing interesting to say.

So, I will say only this:

You Zero Wing fans, you understand...



A Glimpse Into A Fully Caffeinated Mind 

Busy busy busy. That needs to be my new motto.

Procrastinator procrastinator procrastinator. This is the reason why I'm always so busy busy busy because I leave everything for later later later.


Okay, so I'm only *like* a week behind in my blogging. I hate getting behind, for whenever I come in to post I end up spending my time catching up my reading on all the other blogs, and then an hour has whizzed by and I'm no closer to posting an entry than I was sixty minutes ago.

Go figure.

I thought I would share something that was sent to me in an e-mail by Laura. I thought it was cute, and seeing as my brain needs a jump-start I figured it would be a good place to begin.

Let's release the hounds!

1). What time do you get up?
I get up too early to be considered a godly hour, mainly because I go to bed too late and 7 am comes *way* to quickly!

2.) If you could eat lunch with one person, who would it be?
Peter Jackson. He's buying.

3.) Gold/silver?
Well, I like them all, but the only jewelry I wear are my wedding band, my engagement ring, and the dolphin ring my husband bought me for my anniversary last year. Both my wedding band and engagement rings are yellow gold, my dolphin is white gold, but I have a secret preference for silver or platinum. Needless to say, I'm fickle when it comes to precious metals.

4. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
I don't go as a general rule, but I did make an exception for The Return of the King.

5. What is your favorite tv show?
I Love Lucy and The Croc Hunter Diaries.

6. What did you have for breakfast?
All-Bran Extra Fibre formula with fat free milk. Can everybody say yummmmmm?

7). Who would you hate to be stuck in a room with?
I have someone specific in mind, but I'm too polite to say on an open forum such as this so I'll just say "anyone obnoxious" and leave it at that.

8). What/Who inspires you?
The Bible, no two ways about it.

9). What is your middle name?

10). Beach, City or Country?
Beach, baby, all the way, although I do have my "city" and "country" moods.

11.) Favorite ice cream?
Blue Bunny Banana Pudding. Of course, that is always subject to change when the craving for something chocolate hits me.

12). Butter, plain or salted popcorn?
Drenched with butter and salt! Really, is there any other way?

13). Favorite color?
Pale pink.

14). What kind of car do you drive?
Geo Metro and Plymouth Voyager.

15). Favorite sandwich?
Peanut butter mixed with syrup on white bread, which I don't get much since I've started watching what I eat.

16). What characteristic do you despise?

17). Favorite flowers?

18). What is your dream vacation?
A week of nothing to do but stitch.

19). What color is your bathroom?
The kids' bathroom is a lovely deep turquoise and our bathroom is a funky flowered wallpaper.

20). Favorite brand of clothing?
It used to be Lane Bryant, but some bozo got the bright idea that fat women wanted to dress sleezy and started designing everything in low cuts or high cuts. I won't pay $50.00 for something that has less fabric than my dishrag, so right now I'm in between brands at the moment.

21). Where would you retire?
Probably here in Georgia.

22). Favorite day of the week?
Thursdays and Saturdays.

23). What did you do for your last birthday?
I was at a Servanthood Retreat for our church leaders.

24). Where were you born?
Miami, Florida!

25). Favorite sport to watch?
I don't watch sports, but I have to say surfing has always fascinated me.

28) Which detergent do you use?
Whatever is cheapest, but I do have a strange obsession with Fab Ocean scent.

29.) Coke or Pepsi?
Diet Coke, all the way. It took me six months to get used to it, by gum, but I did it!

30) Are you a morning person or a night owl?!
Total night owl.

31) What is your shoe size?
9 1/2 to 10 due to my two pregnancies. I tell you, I can't have any more children due to the fact that if my feet grown any bigger I'll be wearing men's shoes!

32). Do you have any pets?
Three adorable kitties!

33) Your favorite season?
Autumn, hands down.

34). What time is it?
Almost 6 PM.

35. Name as it appears on your birth certificate.
Stacey Lynn Giadrosich.

36) Nickname?
Rusty (I have dark auburn hair) and Prin.

37) Number of candles on your last birthday cake?
I didn't have any, but the number would have been 35.

38) Kids?
Two, a tenacious boy and a dimpling girl.

39) Hair colour?
Very dark auburn.

40) Tattoos?
When I was nineteen I got a scorpion tatooed on my shoulder, which is now nothing more than a puddle of blurred ink. Thank God my tatoo days are ovah.

41) Eyes?
My son will insist they are green. They are in actuality blue-green-gray, which change depending on my mood and what I'm wearing.

42) How much do you love your job?
I'm a stay-at-home-mom, so there are great days and bad days. The benefits, however, are out of this world.:)

43) Favorite foods?
Steak and potatoes or white Mexican cheese dip.

44) Been to Africa?
Nope, but I've been to Europe and Asia continents.

45) Been toileting papering?
Um...no, not since I was, what, like eleven???

46) Have you ever been in love?
Um...yes! And I still am.:)

47) Been in a car accident?
Just small ones, nothing serious.

48) Croutons or bacon bits?
Ew, neither.

49) Favorite saying or phrase?
"Don't be so open minded that your brains fall out." Chinese proverb.

50) Favorite restaurant?
Frontera Mex-Mex! Woohoo!

51) Favorite non-alcoholic drink?
Flavored coffee -you guessed it- fully caffeinated.

52) How many times did you fail your driver's test?

54) Do you sing in the shower?
Oddly enough I don't, but I sing everywhere else. I don't know why I don't sing in the shower, because the acoustics are great.

55) At which store would you like to max your credit card?

56) What do you do most when you are bored?
Read and stitch.

57) Bedtime?
Usually not before midnight.

58) Glass half empty or half full?
Well...it's usually half full, but I tend to have some half empty moments.

59) If you could live anywhere in the world where would you live?
Wherever my family is.

60) What is your most annoying habit?
I don't have any annoying habits. I have destructive ones, like thinking badly about myself, and hurtful ones, like biting my nails to the quick where they bleed, but nothing that can be described as annoying.

61) When was your last true vacation?
Hmm, what year is it?

62) Time you finished this email?
6:14 PM.

Well, there you have it! Not earth-shattering information, granted, but at least it was fun.:)

See you all tomorrow!

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