The Challenge of Re-Entry

It’s started again…spouse has been gone for a while. Other spouse carries on fine. First spouse prepares to come home. Irritability strikes.

I hesitate to even mention this. I’m afraid you’ll think I’m a bad person. Maybe I’m showing the level of dysfunctionality in my own personality and/or relationship. I think I’m afraid that, perhaps…deep down, we’re really, unlike Kev’s assertions to the contrary, the only ones who struggle with a family member’s “re-entry” home.

I sure hope not. I hope you are as wacko as me…The more I think about it, it’s your duty, really. I’m sure it says something in the Bible about it…about all being wacko…or is it concerning sanity: “no, not one”?

Anyway…I’m tired of the stress and upheaval upon Kev’s arrival. So I’m going to try something new: I’ve been told about a simple marriage prayer. You can find it here. You’ll have to scroll down and click on the woman holding the card to make it legible. I just started today…but maybe this will center me better…

I think I must have expectations…maybe of how I should be treated or what Kev should do because I’m so wonderful to stay behind. Or maybe I want him to instantly help me because my “holding down the fort” skills quit at electrical, automotive, and plumbing crisii. Or maybe it’s just that I get into a rhythm… my personality really likes patterns and regularity. And when Kevin Bryan shows up… it’s like I’m sent into a flexibility earthquake that keeps me on my toes and guessing. Certainly being flexible is a wonderful thing…but once my nice little schedule gets into a groove it’s irksome to get it out again. And worse of all: maybe my expectations are completely “reasonable” to me…but totally unreasonable to everyone else on the planet and thus I suffer from irritability at the cellular level. (That smacks of a “victim mentality,” doesn’t it? Hmmmm… Cellular Irritability… I need to remember that…)

Well there you go…my confession for you on this beautiful Saturday. The team should be arriving in Minneapolis any minute. You might want to pray for them as they head into the final stretch…I’d love a prayer or two so I can make their homecoming The! Best! Evah!

I’m Also Making Punkin Chocolate Chip Cookies To Hedge My Bet at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Post-Halloween Diversion

James Kuhn is one Freaky dude. He paints his face. I mean, like, in a manner that could be called "stunning."

Check him out yourself here.

Glad My Hobby Is Sewing at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

The Last Day...for this craziness...

Today was mostly uneventful…if you believe Kevin’s report. They did interviews at a cool house. They took Craig to the airport. They had a leisurely lunch at a historic building that has very high ceilings and lots of interesting (and probably historic) decorating. They went shopping. They are back at the hotel and need to pack, shower and sleep.

They have to leave for the airport at 4 am Bucharest time, which is 11 pm my time. It’s now 1 am my time…7am Bucharest time…They are one their way home!

Don't get me started on what time it is in Australia! at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

One Man's Crib, Another Man's Palace

I missed their first call today…it came early and I was walking where there was no cell signal. Kev’s message said, “met with a set builder today and the visited Ceausescu’s house and rummaged around his home for a few hours. I guess that would be like going through the Saddam Hussein of Eastern Europe’s home…palace actually. We also went to a forest. Got to run for dinner. Bye!”

There are several names for Ceausescu’s “digs.” “The Palace of the Parliament,” the “House of Ceausescu” and the “People’s Palace.” Apparently to the Communist Leader Nicolae Ceausescu, the “people” in the “People’s Palace” were him and his wife…There’s really no good way to describe the size and grandeur of the place, according to Kev. Megh and Richie deem it “ginormous.” She said it had everything…a swimming pool, priceless artwork, a movie theater, a stadium, at least three levels of basement, separate bedrooms for Nic and his wife Elena, parliament…everything a crazed dictator might want in a building, except a bowling alley. Elena must have been afraid those heavy balls would chip the marble.

Kev and Megh said it was stunning how huge the place was. The Ceausescu’s had bedrooms on separate ends of the building…which is like sleeping at opposite ends of the Pentagon. In fact, due to my intrepid research abilities, (here meaning 15 minutes on Wikipedia, that paragon of fact and accuracy), the Palace of the Parliament, as it is officially called is the second largest government building, bested only by the Pentagon, and the heaviest…I’m not sure how they figured out the Palace was the heaviest, but from the looks of it, why not?

Kevin wanted to see Ceausescu’s room…and was told that Michael Jackson slept and/or sat on the daybed in the room adjacent. Of course…Kev sat there as well. I can’t wait to hear how he spins the story of “Michael Jackson and him in the same bed….” You heard it first here.

Kev tried to finagle permission to spend the night in the building…there are plenty of rooms after all…and the lady in charge seemed about to acquiesce, but Cassie, I’m sure sensing what mischief the boys would do racing around on marble floors late at night in socks, nixed it. She probably saved them from prison or something…I only say this because I know my husband and his curiosity…he would have crawled through every inch of that place looking for goodies and treasure.

BTW: this was not the only crib of Nicolae and Elena’s. According to reports he owned over 15 luxury palaces around Romania…which isn’t bad on his salary of $3,000 a year. They even owned another palace in Bucharest, the Primaverii Palace, to act like their storage unit. Among other things, it had one room devoted entirely to Elena’s fur coats, another for Nicolae’s suits, tuxedos, and hunting outfits…etc. (gag me!) etc.

Of course this monstrous obscenity was near virtual hovels where the rest of Romania’s “comrade’s” lived.

What happened to the “Common” of “Communism”? Oh yeah, it never existed! at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Totally Awesome Time-Waster

Because it's Thursday and you need a break.

Click Here.

You're welcome.

I'm rather addicted myself at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Romania Film Making...Will We Look Good Enough?

They were in meetings all day with the film company and a representative from the Embassy.

There are the highlights:

Apparently, according to Kevin, to “fit” into the film industry in Romania you need to have a ponytail…the Assistant Director, the Key Grip, and the Director all sport one. “Fit” here means, and I’m just guessing, to look European, artistic and cool. That won’t be a problem for Shane and Cassie…and, by definition, even Megh could get in on the “I’ve got a ponytail so I can work in film” action. But Kevin…he hasn’t ever had longish hair let alone enough that can be pulled together with a rubber band…what will his mother think? What will my mother think? Personally, I think he’d look cute…I’ve been trying to get him to grow his hair out for years…maybe now he’ll do it…just envision him with a braid down his back and a little earring…OK maybe not the braid (aack!).

The Romanian director also sports a black cowboy hat…from casual research we know that Richard Rodriguez, director of movies like “Spy Kids,” also wears a black cowboy hat…I’m sensing a trend here… We better start looking for one just in case it is the Official Headgear For Professional Filmmaking. I don’t want Shane to be shunned.

The meeting at the Embassy was just to introduce themselves. The Secretary of Cultural Affairs seemed rather bored with them until Kev presented her with some Authentic Kentucky Bourbon Balls. Her face lit up and she said, “I drink! So this is good!” Authentic Kentucky Bourbon Balls: Diplomacy’s New Secret Weapon. Don’t leave home without some.

The team also went to a film shoot to observe how this particular company functions, in this case it was shooting a commercial using a steadicam and actual film. When the camera dude found out they planned to shoot Hi Def Digital he groaned, “You guys will wear me out!” When asked why he said, “With film we have to stop to change magazines…but with digital you never quit. I run all day long!” Another example of the striking differences between the types of media.

That’s it…the studio said they know of actors and actresses who can look emaciated and prison-camp-like, tanks can be procured, the sound stage is large enough for various prison interiors.

Now the team is trying to figure out what it will cost them to do this movie and what they will need to do it well. I can’t wait to see what they come up with.

BTW: They ate at Pizza Hut…and Megh had the Best! Pizza! Evah! And she says that Discovery Channel is the only one in English, so I should count her television viewing as “Science.”

I can't wait for them to come home at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

I Shoud Have Pesto'd!

I heard it was going to freeze but was too snotty to realize that my Basil was in danger. Drat those 10 pounds of mucus sloshing in my head!

I shall Pesto again another day(it'll actually be next year)at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Mucus-Coated Report

My advice: don’t touch the screen as you read this…the cold germs that are attacking me have probably followed this link and are, right now, pulsing and plotting to find a way into your home and up your nose.

Even so, I have news to report so I shall risk it…you’ll recover, and besides Knowledge is Power, and all that.

Their visit to the Black Sea was beautiful and too short. In case you’re wondering, the Black Sea is “kind of” salty. This came as a surprise to me and I report, of course, not from experience… since I am writing this in the comfort of my bed and not from a lovely deck chair on the beach. No, this information has been collected using my keen mind, gifted fingers, and high speed internet. And now I feel the need to pass said information on and you are The! Lucky! Winner!

Actually, it was Shane who prompted me…Kevin said he dipped his finger into the sea and tasted it to see if it was salty. “That’s crazy!” I shot back. “There’s no way! It’s inland! It’s freshwater! The connection to the Mediterranean is too small!” SideNote: I’ve learned that when I respond with such confidence about something so obvious, I’m usually wrong. And so I was…The Black Sea is salty…apparently the various straights and stuff that connect it to the Mediterranean are deep…allowing sea water to flow into the Sea near the bottom while freshwater from the incoming rivers flow on top. Eventually they either are shaken or stirred. There is also scientific opinion that the Black Sea originally was only fresh water (I’m Vindicated!) but became salty from a massive flood that forced seawater into the basin. Gee…If we only knew of a globally catastrophic event that covered the world with water…

They visited yet another maximum security prison…this time full of juveniles of the male gender. These boys were not as discrete or polite as the adult prisoners from previous facilities. I know this because Megh said that she “felt like a piece of meat at the super-market.” She felt stared at and then something was shouted as the group left…Megh said she was sure it wasn’t “Have a Blessed Day” in Romanian. I’ll be happy to give you details…as soon as I finish signing her up for a Lethal Karate and Sniper course, or something similar.

Their next tour was around the Danube Canal. This little project was started in 1949 after the communist took charge…tens of thousands of people were forced to dig, with old picks, wheelbarrows, shovels and almost no food, a 40 mile trench large enough for barges and ships to travel. It was abandoned after 4 years. The Death Canal, as it was called locally, claimed between 10,000 and 200,000 lives, of course they weren't counting...they wanted to get rid of the filthy bourgeois. It was finally finished by Ceausescu in 1987, after digging for 11 more years with large earth moving equipment. In the 30 years it’s been open, the 3rd largest canal has generated almost no income and is more of a curiosity than a productive transportation highway.

In Bucharest, traffic is so bad they tromped around as much as possible and tried not to whine (poor, pitiful, car-dependent Americans!). They had lunch at a mall. Kev said, “Walk in and you're instantly transported to the U.S.” Starbucks, Burger King, Quiznos, KFC are all represented. I forgot to ask what they ate…too much mucus on the brain.

The night before they ate at a traditional Romanian restaurant. Chicken veggie soup was one of the items chosen…but the big news was dessert: Bourbon Ice Cream that tasted like Lemon cake batter…I’m not commenting on the accuracy of taste buds…but I am wondering what father would let his 14-year-old daughter order BOURBON ice cream! (I would have at least ordered it for myself and then gave it her!) Cassie and Craig had a dessert (or maybe an entre) that included tiny, and extremely hot, peppers. Everyone but Kevin tried them…with eye-watering, mouth singeing results. According to Megh: “This is the most pain I’ve given myself voluntarily!” Megh called Dad a sissy for not to try it. Kev said he was the smartest one there. I’m just reporting. You decide.

I’ll take what they’re having at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Diversion Needed

Mby Ndose Huhrts and mby brain is full of snot. So I must divert you with a diversion. Here is a sample of the citizenship test...would you pass?

Please pass the Kleenex and Niquel at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

An Artistic Diversion

Incredible Edible Photos Made Entirely Out of Food.

I'm diggin' me some bacon hills at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Come Ride With Me!

To get a "feel" of what Kev, Megh and the rest of the gang experienced the last few days driving through Transylvania, click here.

It's a mountain bike, it's a death wish at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Mommy Trauma!

Another 7 hours to get from Iasi to the Black Sea. Or as Kevin puts it, from a Ramada Inn to a whatever. Oddly, they have begun to measure every hotel in Internet access. So the Ramada Inn was only average compared to the Tulip Inn which had killer high speed wireless. The Black Sea hotel (not its real name because of the Witness Protection Program) is rather archaic: it has only 1 20 foot phone cable that the team has to share...fortunately my adorable husband, who packs for everything, including Armageddon, packed an extra one. He and Meghan are Free.

Stressful Side Note: As a result of 7 hours driving over a washboard...or it could be some bad chicken, several folks...Kev and Megh included...have "unhappy" tummies. I don't know the extent of the "unhappiness" but the fact that they are there and not here where I, as Mama of the Universe can't take care of them is causing me a great deal of angst and trauma...and of course you know it's all about ME! ACK! *curls up into a fetal position to pray and/or worry*

Craig (from L.A.) has apparently been instrumental in helping pass the miles. He will regularly burst into a (generally 1970's) song...sometimes with the real words or sometimes updated to fit their current circumstances. He and the others are continually astonished that Megh not only knows the song, but knows the right words to the song and the artist as well. I keep telling people that we at Bryan Homeschooling Academy focus on nothing but the Classics...but no one has believed me...until now! YES!

Project Update: Their time in Iasi was sobering...it was where Sabina Wurmbrand's family and 13,000 others were killed in 3 days. For you Math nerds (like my husband) that works out to be 4 1/2 people murdered every minute. In one alleyway so many Jews were shot the blood ran ankle deep. In Iasi there used to be 37 synagogues...Now there is 1. 70,000 Jews were reduced to less than 20,000 in a few years. I'm reading a book entitled "Night" by Elie Wiesel (Suggested by Tyler Danyla...Thanks!). He was a Jew in Sighet (one of the places the team unknowingly visited) and he ended up in Auschwitz during the Final Solution...the only one of his family of 6 to survive.

A few cultural notes:
Their ketchup is runny and pitiful compared to Hunt's or Heintz. It's Sad Ketchup according to Megh.

Today they had the coldest cokes EVAH...or at least all week. Kev thinks they actually put them in the fridge this time! They don't serve ice with their soft drinks...ice is one of the easiest ways of getting sick...so the cokes come out in whatever state they were stored in. Today it was the fridge! And We Are Thankful Even For This!

Their driver got a ticket from the Lone Romanian Highway Patrolman. Everyone speeds, but their poor driver got the attention today.

Their translator and driver (although they met only to do this gig) argue and bicker like old married folks (or worse.) She (the translator) now refers to him (the driver) as her "husband" because the team has picked on her about their antagonistic communication styles. The translator is also picking up on the aspect of American slang known as Sarcasm. For example, Shane, even though they have 6 hours to go has decided to ask her every few minutes "how much farther"? She in turn responds, "20 more minutes." And then to Cassie, "That's what he wanted to hear, isn't it?" It makes them laugh...because road-weary delirium has set in. Soon they will be wanting to house-sit a giant hotel through a horrible winter is coming that will make them unable to leave...and...never mind!

It's Not All Fun And Games...Sometimes There's An Angry Tummy at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.comn

He Even Has Purty Pictures!

Richie is the scriptwriter for this project. He's also an excellent photographer. Check out his blog, which consists of a lot of LOVELY photos and some brief descriptions.

http://www.aletheiastageandfilm.blogspot.com/

Or click here.

Someday I'm Going To Be That Talented at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Driving Them Mad

They spent 2 hours at a prison turned museum that offered them some physical insight as to what occurred then the Russians took over Romania after they (the Russians) and America and the other Allies won the war. We can sum it up like this: After we gave Stalin most of Eastern Europe as a "thanks for helping us kick Hitler's bootie," 2 million Romanians, out of a population of 16 million (1 out of every 8), were put in prison as enemies of the state. Over a quarter of those never returned.

Our Food Report of the Day: The team decided to forgo their usual 2 hour Linner/Dunch time, and it is “typical” in that Europeans eat like this. The team is, of course, "typically" American, which means they are, “Hurry! Down the hatch! And keep on driving!” travelers. Today, they picked up some “stuff” at a grocery store and had sandwiches as they went. Megh said they were delicious.

She also said the sights are Phenomenally Fantastic.

Only one incident to report, really:

Cassie warned the team that it would be another 7 hour bus ride (for the 3rd day in a row).

Megh chirped, “That’s not so bad.”
Cassie “Are you always so overly optimistic?”
Megh: “Someone has to be.
Shane (as though in agony): “NO! No one has to be!”
Kev (thinking): “hmmm…being overly optimistic is irritating. I must remember that.”
Craig: “I’m pessimistically optimistic.”
Richie says nothing but is seen taking notes…this will probably end up in a screenplay somewhere.

I'm probably Optimistically Pessimistic at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Yet Another Diverson

The little-known history of the wild west cat-herder cowboy.

I would not do well at this at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Can We Get There From Here?

Here are the highlights…

It’s taken them 2 days to go 400 miles. Not because they’ve stopped and “touristed” but because they are driving in the mountains on roads that make Kentucky country roadways look like landing strips and on switchbacks where you not only meet yourself coming and going…but you meet yourself running away and stopping for prayer as well. You will meet yourself in these many positions because of the way Romanians drive. Kevin said that there is only one apparent goal for a Romanian behind the wheel of a 2-ton death machine and that is…to pass another Romanian. So cars careen around the mountains passing other drivers only to be passed by others who were likewise overtaken by another hell-bent motorist. This would be an interesting experience except that the roads are narrow and go both ways. After several hours of muttering “we’re all gonna die” Kevin encouraged everyone (except the driver) to put their heads down, close their eyes, and hope for the best. His hope was that the next time they all opened their eyes it would either be at their destination or in heaven.

They didn’t see many sights on their drive through the mountains(mostly because their eyes were closed, duh!). But they did see several signs pointing to possible sights. Among these were Dracula’s Castle and the turn off for the World’s…or Eastern Europe’s…or Romania’s Largest/Longest Castle… or Fortress… or Fortified church. Compare and Contrast them and let me know what you think.

One other thing about the driving. Kev said the trick to staying sane while riding along Romania mountain roadways is to make it like a video game or a 3-D movie in your mind. The terror of death is then diminished to the level of “thrill” and you begin to root for the driver to “win” the “game.” Personally, I think some sort of controlled (or uncontrolled) substances would be much easier…but all they had were the granola bars and cheese and crackers and candy that I sent…so they had to (unfortunately) work with that. The irony of it all were the signage, which occurred at amazingly regular intervals, and which depicted a curvy road and said “No Passing” so plainly that even non-Romanian speakers/readers could understand it.

Interestingly, Kev had driven the same route 19 years ago at Christmas time. He remembered parts of the trip…and commented that the most stunning thing was how far the country has progressed in nearly 2 decades. He said you see the old communist apartment buildings...but now they are covered in personal satellite dishes. He also commented about the vehicles (because he is a guy), “I’ve never seen so many Audi, Porshe’s, and BMS’s anywhere,” he said (and we love him for it).

Yesterday they had lunch with the first (and possibly only) Romanian Cosmonaut to run for the Senate (or possibly Mayor, depending on who's telling you). In fact, we think he’s the only Romanian to ever go into space, so he has that going for him as far as name recognition, which carries a lot when running for office, or so I’m told.

They are at that stage where many commonplace cultural differences are becoming increasingly funny. As just one example: Italian restaurants are very popular there and pizza is often found on the menu. Today the menu listed at least a dozen pizzas and then described them. Each one had, as their first ingredient, “dough.” Not “a delicious crust of…” or not “stone-ground wheat crust” or even “decent crust.” No…it was simply uncooked, unadorned “dough.” Soon they were saying things like, “Look! Pizza #8! It’s got dough!” “Thank goodness! I was wondering what their pizzas were made of.” And “You’ll never guess what they use in Pizza #4…Dough!” “Woo-hoo!” See what I mean? Drugs (and serious ones) may be the only solution.

Meghan said the trees are beautiful there and are turning such beautiful colors. The weather is very similar to Louisville with many days having nearly identical highs and lows. She said she doesn’t like sleeping on the bus because it keeps her on Kentucky time and she wants to be on Romanian time since she’s there so she’s been watching the trees and listening to George Winston. If you do not know George Winston, you can meet him here.

She also said that she would be happy to stay a lot longer (she sounded sad that the trip was almost half over!) if she had three things: 1) Ale 8, 2) her friends, and 3) snack food because they don’t eat on our time schedule. She failed to mention “her mother” in the list…and I’m…sniff…OK with that…sniff, sniff. I’ll just keep myself busy…sniff, sniff…Don’t mind me. SOB!

One final food observation: Today, when they finally got to eat Linner or Dunch (It’s too late in the day to call it Lunch but a bit too early to call it Dinner), the team was so hungry that they started snarfing down the bread brought to the table while the Romanian translator and driver watched them with amusement. Meghan looked up and realized what was happening so she sat back and looked around. She said, “Mom, I watched everyone attack the bread and the Romanians watching with odd expressions on their faces and thought ‘could we be any more American?…I don’t think so.’” Kevin is still looking for the elusive Skittles and Dr Pepper. He thought he found some at one of the modernized prisons…(of which I will tell you more later) but it was an illusion.

It’s my understanding they left Bucharest and drove northwest to Brasov (to a prison), then to Sibiu and Cluj-napoca (the college where Wurmbrand spoke), then, I believe to Baia Mare and possibly Satu-Mare (another prison). Their next goal tonight is Iasi, which is almost directly East of Satu-Mare but on the Moldavian border as the crow flies. Unfortunately they are not crows, nor are they flying so their route will be longer and consist of more meetings of themselves (in various positions I’m sure).

I'm missing them horribly at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

While You're Waiting

I had a nice long visit with Kev and Megh. In order for me to properly report the information I'll need some extra time...and another Diet Coke. Diet Coke is this blogger's Official Beverage for Braincell Activation (OBBA, which is unlike ABBA in that OBBA has no hit singles and would not be caught dead in white stretchpants.)

While you wait, please time stop at NYC's Central Station.

Wishing Diet Coke came in a convenient IV at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

It's Great, When It Works

I talked at both Kev and Megh today via cellphone. It was an experience of frustration and irksomeness. Please note I “talked at” them, instead of the traditional “talking to” or “talking with” or even “talking about” as I’m doing now.

They called me three times, and out of those few minutes I heard the following, and I believe this could be considered a quote: “ack,” “up,” “mah,” and possibly an “eep.”

I wanted to hang up, to end the misery and send them to bed…but I couldn’t… Because I so wanted to hear them. I wanted that connection and to know they were there…So I told them what I was doing (going to dinner) and how much I loved them and then, finally, with the third call, to go to bed. After all, it was after 1 am their time. I make that distinction only to clarify that I am not of the appropriate celebrity shape or status to be going to dinner at 1 am my time. My proper place at 1 am is home, in bed, hopefully sleeping…but if not, reading a good book. Or, worse case scenario, folding clothes and getting my family ready to leave or the house ready for company.

So there you have it. Not much to report, except that I'm a bit lonely. Instead of information I will offer this as a diversion. It's not related to anything...but strangely fascinating anyway.

Continually in awe of the blasted technology whether it works or not at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

I Live 2 Skype

Today was another Skype day from Bucharest. Here is what I learned in my 30 minutes of Virtual Face Time:

1) They leave tomorrow morning early (which is just after midnight for us) for Northern Romania in which (I’m not making this up) they skirt along Transylvania and the Carpathian mountain range. If you are not familiar with Transylvania, please check out the scholarly information helpfully offered here. And here.

2) They went to a real live prison today. Felons apparently differ in post-communist Romania from America in several significant ways, not the least of which they let their maximum security prisoners walk around, in the open, meaning…and I don’t think I can overstress this…not behind bars, and in “normal” clothes…with all sorts of woodworking and glass cutting tools in their rooms…afterwards I wondered if they had mistaken “maximum security prison” for an Eastern European form a Male Adult Day Care. I guess I better check on that.

3) Megh and Cassie walked through the entire prison except for one room…and I forgot why…I think it had something to do with it being where all the murderers were milling about before lunch, or something. She just said that she and Cassie decided they “didn’t need to see whatever was in there.” As her mother I would comment unbiasedly, “No DUH!” However, Kevin, who is there but still lacks the patented “Mother Instinct” basically because he is a Father, is in the background saying, “Why didn’t you go in there! I was there to take care of you!” I didn’t have the heart to remind him of the number of felons (of which included more than one…the clue being the “s” after felon…) vs. the number of him…even after taking into account what weapons he had “packed.” (Let me give you a hint: none.)

4) Megh’s favorite dinner tonight was traditionally Romanian which came in the form of a traditional Chinese restaurant where she had some traditionally Romanian food in the manner they called “General Tzao’s Chicken.” Classical music, in the form of David Cassidy (of “Partridge Family" fame), was provided for their dining enjoyment.

5) Cassie, being the ever-fun-loving cruise director had them while away the travel miles by playing an ever-fun-loving game: Each person had to say 5 kind/nice/complimentary/ positive things from the heart as they drove to the prison. Let it be noted that Kev (whose name…I kid you not…means “kind” in some foreign language) got a grand total of…2… He said he would have gotten 3 but he talked too long and it turned into a negative. They failed to tell me how the others fared. Maybe they’ll do a “Round 2: Cynical Edition.” Kev would be a natural. I say that with total love and respect.

6) Then they signed off…to pack. They’ll do a 5 day circuit….feel free to Follow! Along! They’ll go to Tirgu Ocna (a prison/hospital) and then to Iasi (where Sabina’s entire family were slaughtered along with most of the village.) Then they’ll go to the mouth of the Danube-Black Sea Canal Project (which was finished 30 years after Communism was) and then back to Bucharest.

Hoping they have internet at all those places at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

They Are Fine

I just haven't had any time to be clever.

Please enjoy this time-wasting game while I write.

Wishing for a few more (creative) hours in my day at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Bucharest: It's So Old It's New

Technology is a wonderful, terrible thing.

I say this because I just finished Skyping with my family. If you haven’t skyped before it’s just as well because it brings several elements of technology together to make a person worry (yet again) how they look and what they might have dangling from their teeth or nose. Skype is apparently a “program” that “turns” your computer into a "videophone." Please don't ask me how. It might be demonic... or some sort of black magic. Or, if I was in a better mood, I might call it a miracle. Regardless of whatever voodoo that makes it all work, one thing is true: I could see and hear my family and now I miss them worse than ever!

And they could see me. Of course, being that technology is a two-edged sword, I could also see me…in a little box in the corner. This quickly became a problem because my eyes continually focused down on the box making me aware that I was slouching or my hair had poofed up funny because of my slouching or my t-shirt had bunched up around my throat as a direct result of slouchiness…and so on. So I spent as much time desperately trying to not be aware of my “slouchifiedness” as I did watching my family.

The connection was wonderful, although a bit blurry...At one point I just sat and watched my husband and daughter work on a computer "issue" that Meghan was trying to solve...I had nothing to say…so I watched them do their thing 7 time zones and 5,317 miles away from me...and they seemed so normal...not distant or foreign at all.

We got to talk about 30 minutes...which is WAY longer than the 12 of the previous night...and here is the news:

They went to some local "infirmaries" and prisons. There were no prisoners there. One of the prisons they want to go to, called Jilava, has flooded (it’s underground) and they won’t be able to use it.

Sometime during the day Kevin had an Italian Chocolate…which he described as basically a liquefied, warm Hershey bar. Meghan had a milkshake, which she said should have been called a “frothshake” because…well, you can guess why.

The biggest surprise for Kev was how modern Bucharest had become…he had visited on the anniversary of Ceausescu’s overthrow and execution and saw a country of bare shelves, old cars, and people who were hungry. In fact, Kev’s team passed out Bibles and their truck was mobbed when people realized what they were doing. This trip, there are packed stores, BMWs, and electronic billboards. He even saw in IKEA by the airport. And if you have an IKEA…You definitely won’t pass for a post-WWII communistic-ravaged city.

Wondering where they’ll find the 1950’s for their movie at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Prayers and God's Kindness Strike Again!

Your prayers and God's kindness strike again!

Meghan and Kev called today around 2:30 in the afternoon. It should be 9:30pm here...although Megh said it was nearly midnight. Frankly, I took most of what she said as General But Undocumented Information, primarily because the entire team had (at that time) gone without sleep for the past 24 hours...delirium had firmly set in. It must have hit around dinnertime;
Meghan said she noticed they were eating (it was some kind of chicken she thought) but were not aware of what they were putting in their mouths or what else was going on around them. I think she referred to "now knowing how a zombie feels like on a normal day."

The biggest answer to prayer was that the camera made it safe and (mostly) sound. There is apparently one small fracture on one of the thingys that hold the boom mic to the camera. It sounded like something that won't hinder their "image gathering" in Romania and can be replaced when it finally goes completely bad.

Thank you SO VERY much for praying with me last night and today. I must confess...and this probably seems horribly ridiculous...but there are times when I feel like I'm the Weakest Link in the Prayer Zone. So when a call comes in, as it did from Kevin last night, I feel so impotent and
helpless...I want to ask God for His will but I want MY will actually done. I wonder just how much my meager beggings matter to the Omnipotent Creator. And I know that I should pray the "prayer than never fails"...(Your Will be done, Lord)...but I struggle to mean it. Knowing that there was a lot of prayer-warring going on gave me joy and hope. And peace. Thanks.

We were able to talk about 10 minutes total...Megh said the plane flight was unbelievably long but that she and Kevin watched a marathon of "Heroes"... which suits me fine because I am spared from having to watch it. Actually last year they un-invited me from their "Heroes" nights...because I believe I can change the outcome of the show by yelling loudly and often at the TV and become "somewhat" unpleasant when they don't obey me. For some reason my eruptions "bother" them because they can't "hear" or something.

The only other thing they told me was that they had a meeting with the Romanian film production company they might work with. Meghan said they have a huge warehouse filled with sets like castles and such. She was just stunned....and muttering..."it's so big!" "And a castle!" "And the set to mumble, mumble...(some movie I couldn't quite hear)!"..."And I'm really
tired."

So I sent them to bed with "loveyou!loveyou!loveyou!loveyou!loveyou!loveyou!"

Thanks again for sharing the burden...feel free to keep on praying. They start visiting prisons tomorrow. And most of them are still active. They won't be in any danger that I know of, but still.

Grateful beyond words at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

It's Starting Early This Trip!

Well...

As you probably know, Kevin, Megh, Shane, Cassie, and Richie all left this afternoon for two weeks in Romania (or at least you knew they were going...details like the exact day and time should only be required for those who would take them to the airport or are responsible for them packing clean underwear and socks).

OK...at least we thought details like everyone knowing exactly when they were leaving and such weren't important...

So, at noon, Shepherd (our eternal intern whom we love) and myself took them to the airport and sent them off in a prayerful fashion and thought no more about it.

For 4 hours. To be exact.

At 4:30 pm I get a call from Megh. They were about to board the flight to Amsterdam and I asked the typical mom-type question: "How are you doing?" "Most of us are doing well," she replied. "But Dad's not doing so good." (She's mastered Kentucky grammar, isn't she incredible?) "There's a problem with the camera."

The camera in question is City on a Hill's brand new little beastie. I don't know how much this little box cost...but if I did, it would curl your hair and mine. Keeping in mind that Kevin used to travel overseas. A lot. So he's prepared down to having jar of peanut butter and packs of tuna in
his bag. His plan was typical and simple: carry it on at Louisville...and have the little baggage dude put it under the plane with the strollers....Kev carries some $5 and $10 bills for that very purpose and it works very well. He's done it in other countries and it worked magically. And, besides, this is America, so no problem, right?

All went well until they got to Detroit...and Kevin went to get the case. Apparently it was put with the "normal" baggage and then taken off the plane in the "normal" baggage way, and was sent into the bowels of Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport, (which is under the total control of satan-spawned robots and where no human is allowed to venture under penalty
of death and dismemberment...or worse) and has been treated like the rest of the "normal" baggage and is, at present, supposedly under the plane on its way to Bucharest...because "normal" baggage doesn't really have layovers like people so you can't get to them...they just keep going and going until they reach a Predetermined Final Destination. Hopefully it matches yours.

Knowing Kevin the way you do, you can only imagine how "Perry Mason" he can become when things refuse to go the way he so carefully planned. And I'm sure he Perry Masoned several Northeast Airlines employees until he had to get on the plane. He might even Perry Mason some people at the Northwest Air Corporate (motto: Let Us Really Take Care of Your Bags) offices (he
asked me to look up their phone numbers). Megh tried to get him to eat something, but you can't eat and Perry Mason. Just so you know.

Last I talked to him, he was disappointed at the situation and frustrated to have the case so close and yet to far (that ought to be a song). He also said that "God knew this was going to happen...so He's got a plan." But he did have three prayer requests (and this is why I'm taking up your time):

1) That the camera and other stuff not sustain any damage. It's in a soft case and, although wrapped in bubble wrap and clothes, that's not a lot of protection against oversized, and overweight, American luggage.

2) That the camera not be stolen. It was hand delivered under the plane. I don't know what kind of identification or bar code (if any) that it had. And even so...it would be very tempting to "lift" something that looked tantalizingly like a large, expensive piece of equipment somewhere between here and Bucharest.

3) That it will be happily there with the rest of the luggage, ready to be used...

They won't know anything until Monday afternoon, their time (that's early morning here) but I don't know when they'll be able to contact me.

Please keep them all (and the camera) in your prayers. I'm praying for some Holy Spirit Bubble Wrap to encase that little piece of equipment and keep it safe and invisible (if need be).

And it's barely Day One. And it's just the scouting trip. What kind of crazy spiritual battle have we got ourselves into?

Thanks, so much.

BTW: Megh was SOOOO excited! Last night she said, "Just think: tomorrow I'll have breakfast in Louisville, lunch in Detroit, dinner over the ocean, breakfast in Amsterdam, and lunch in Bucharest! I might just have to freak out!"

She called when she got on the plane to Amsterdam and said, "I still can't believe it! I'll believe it when I see strange soil." I can't imagine anything stranger than Kentucky clay...but you never know...

Their goal once they hit Bucharest is to scout possible locations for the next large film project which surrounds a Romanian couple who started Voice of the Martyrs. It sounds simple enough until you read their books. ("The Underground Church" by Richard Wurmbrand and "The Pastor's Wife" by Sabina Wurmbrand) Then it is obviously God-sized and stunning. Kev had hoped he and Megh would film the team as they went scouting about for a "behind the scenes" thing and to share with those of us "left behind."

Grateful our God is Bigger at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

I Am Not Dead

I will explain.

Later.

Forcing Myself to Get on With Other Things at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

A Potentially Fun Movie Quiz!

Can you guess the movie from seeing just one letter of the movie poster?

Click Here!

My brother-in-law got 30 out of 46. Me? Ummm...I knew the one's from Disney.

Call Me Movie Challeneged at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Is That Lime Jell-O in Your Head?

According to TechnologyBB.com, a bowl of lime Jell-O, when hooked up to an EEG machine, exhibited movement which is virtually identical to the brain waves of a healthy adult man or woman.

At my age, that makes perfect sense.

Buying Some Lime Jell-O As Brain Backup at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

BTW: more interestingly useless facts can be found Here.

Why I Haven't Written

I, like many others, am the star in my own reality show.

Footnoted Here

If only I could make syndication at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Did You Have A Nice Weekend?

THIS will stress you out.

It Must Be Monday at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

I JUST KNEW IT!!

Healthy food stresses you out...Junk food relaxes you. And there's SCIENCE to back it up!

Where are the Doritos? MMMMmmm I feel better already at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Megh's New Fav

And I like it too!

Celebrity Scaredy-Cats

Here's a slide show and a list of famous people's fears.

Hey I'm Just Like Daryl Hannah! at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Are YOU Scared Silly?

Now there are names for ALL of them!


I Think I've Got Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

It's 2008

Here's a Drawing Game Worthy of Time Wasting.

If Only There's Something That Would Explain Cartoon Physics as Well at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Another Reason Not to Leave Home

Massive Bedbug Infestation in NYC.

Today New York, Tomorrow the World at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

In Case You're Like Me

And didn't do squat for New Year's Eve but Sit on the couch and watch a nut try to kill himself, here's this.

And I Didn't Even Need A Passport to Feel Motion Sick at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Boy Do I Feel Better!

Japan invented a snow eating, icecube pooping robot.

Our future is secure.

If Only They Could Make a Trash Eating, Gasoline Peeing Robot at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Cops Pulling You Over = BAD

I don't care if they ARE doing it to give me a $5 Starbucks card for being a good citizen-- I'm still going to FREAK OUT!

And I Don't Think a Double Shot Cappuchino Will Help at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Better Late Than Never

It's official: There is now room at the Inn*

*If it's a TravelLodge in London and your names are Joseph and Mary.

Favorite quote: "The 'gift' of a free night's stay is to make up for the hotel industry not having any rooms left on Christmas Eve over 2000 years ago when the original 'Mary and Joseph' had to settle for the night in a stable."

Why Not? It's PR at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

I'm Not Sure About This...

Queen's "We Will Rock You" + "Theme to Rocky" + Scottish Bagpipes = AWESOME!

Here's a shorter version.

I'm Scottish Which Explains Why I Like It at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

This Can't End Well...

You've got to see this adorable baby who can give an evil eye.

I can't wait to see what he'll do when he reaches the terrible twos.

Taking Bets at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Some Classic Rock

"Sweet Home Alabama" as performed by Leningrad Cowboys & Red Army Choir.

These cold-war bubba's can ROCK!

If Only They'd Do "Stairway to Heaven" at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

This Guy is Making a Living Blending

Things. Lots of things.

Like an iPhone.

No, really.

Check it out.

I Want to Be a Wacko for Dollars at marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

There is Something Hysterically Disturbing

About This.

I Particularly Gagged Over Ireland at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

JUST in Time for Christmas

Secure your place in Heaven by purchasing a spot.

It's Not Commercialism, it's Eternal Entrepreneurism at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

It's Not Just Radio--It's LIVE, CALL-IN Radio!

Let’s try something new. Since life is full of hills and valleys, highs and lows, ups and downs—the ying and yang as it were—(I never could figure out what a panda has to do with it all but I’m not a philosopher)—this report will be “panda-ized,” a word that here shall mean “looking at the stressful circumstances and the wonderful moments God has in each of them because I can’t think of any other why which doesn’t sound whiney.”

Stress: Tried to get Megh’s Science and Math in an “Independent-of-Me” do-able position before the interview. Lost track of time.

God’s Kindness (GK): I only had to go next door. Had computer and notes ready to go…so I zipped right over.

Stress: Tried to get in through the front door, which, I found out was dead-bolted. Set my stuff down to run to the back door.

GK: The cell phone rang and my hands were free to find and answer it. It was the radio station and the host wanted to tell me how excited she was about the interview (her program manager acted quite surprised about her wanting to chat).

Stress: The deadbolt was locked on the inside with a key, which meant I had to run downstairs and out of the back door and around to the front to gather my stuff then back around to the backdoor and up the steps into the kitchen.

GK: I laughed about it all. Even when I took a wrong turn trying to exit the house and ended up in the laundry room.

Stress: They didn’t call. And they didn’t call. And they didn’t call. The call finally comes in at 11:05 (I thought I would be “on hold” before 11 and then “on the air” at 11 o’clock sharp because I don’t know how live radio works).

GK: The extra time gave me moments to run through my notes (which I hadn’t done because of the aforementioned Science/Math quest) and even write some new thoughts that Nancy (we’re BFFs now, you know) suggested.

Stress: I don’t know how I missed this—The Nancy Turner show is a CALL-IN TALK SHOW, which is significant in that LISTENERS—WHO YOU CAN’T CONTROL—CALL IN.

GK: Looking back through the emails with Joni, the Fabbo Publicist, all of the hints were there (a.k.a. this direct quote: “It is a live, one-hour show and is often a call in show.” And this one: “…but if they get going with listener calls it might go to 50 minutes.”) But I missed them (or God covered them)…so I walked into that situation blind but less stressed out than I could have been.

The interview was challenging…sharing the mic with callers added a weird, almost-but-not-quite-threatening crap-shoot of a feel. But BFF Nancy handled them all REALLY well. I helped by yammering like my life depended on it.

Joni had given WMBI 4 copies of “Scared Silly” to GIVE AWAY so I felt like Santa—in that I had nothing to do with the actual products or event except be jolly and act like I did.

And here’s the largest God’s Kindess part: THEY’VE ASKED ME BACK! And they VOTED ON THE AIR!! Which made me feel like a contestant on “Survivor” or “Do You Have Talent?” or some other fake reality show.

And I must say I was honored by their response…until I hung up. And then it hit me. “Snap! She said, ‘We’ll have you back,’ didn’t she? That means…Oh…stink! Where did those Nacho Cheese Doritos and Oreos go?”

Next stop: Ten Minutes of TV on Friday!

Mainlining Diet Coke and Cheetos at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.con

Another Whinefest...But For Good Reason

In the future everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes.”

~ Andy Warhol

I’ve lost my mind

I’m back on the couch, in my Ready! For! Anything! fetal position and for good reason: it’s December! I’m kidding, of course. The final month of the year isn’t stressful in any way with Christmas and all of its overt commercialization, expectations, and Martha Stewart trappings, final school projects and tests, Christmas cards that need writing, packages that need sending, and loans that need getting in order to afford all of the postage. Oh no, all of this is no stress for me! So I’ve decided to give this December some added Zip and Zest in the way of shameless pimpage for “Scared Silly.” Nothing else going on, right? I might as well…

Let me just SCCCCCRRRRREEEEEAAAAAMMMMMM!!!!! And suck my thumb! Because, in the next two weeks I’ll be doing 3 days of book signings, an hour-long radio interview, AND a TV interview—I’ve already done interviews/ “visits” with a newspaper and a magazine both of which should break around mid-month here in L’ville. AND an initial contact has been made with the local Louisville rag as well.

But here’s the thing about all but one of these stress-inducing moments.

I did them to myself.

No, really.

I actually called the Today’s Woman magazine (a local business/women’s interest mag), the Louisville Courier-Journal (the local paper), our favorite reporter for the Southeast Outlook (our church newspaper), the church bookstore --and here is the part the proves I’ve lost my mind— a local Barnes and Noble (to set up a book-signing), AND WHAS TV.

Why did I do such a thing, you may ask? Was I feverish from the recent flu that tore through our home? Insane from watching a “Spongebob Squarepants” marathon? Overcome with L-tryptophan courtesy of the Thanksgiving Turkey? Simply Pre-menstral? High on Elmer’s glue fumes from homeschooling?

I wish I knew.

But the schedule’s been set and I’m writing to yet again ask for your prayers.

The first is an hour-long interview with WMBI in Chicago, which, I understand is the radio station for Moody Bible Institute. You can see their website at: http://www.mbn.org/GenMoody/default.asp?SectionID=CD6A8113F7BA4EEC9DB4C2B609F01098

And I must say I’m impressed with them if for nothing else than their tagline: “Think Biblically, Live Christianly, Serve Effectively, and Evangelize Consistently.” As one who is known to make up words often, I think anyone directly connected to an institute of higher learning and who can say “Christianly” as part of their mission statement is OK in my book.

But, in case you missed the casualness with which the interview was previously reported, IT’S GOING TO BE AN HOUR LONG! WHAT AM I GOING TO TALK ABOUT FOR A WHOLE STINKIN’ HOUR? And, equally concerning, how will I keep my four brain cells working for sixty whole minutes (3600 seconds)…together…and make FULL sentences with (mostly) REAL words?

That will be this Tuesday, December 4, at noon, my time (I think). You can actually see me on the schedule at: http://www.mbn.org/GenMoody/default.asp?sectionID=030885ADA60845D29273610F87CE6D96 Gaaack.

On Friday, I’ll be on WHAS TV. I believe it’ll be the last 15 minutes of their noon show. Fortunately, 15 minutes really just allows a person to be introduced and answer 1 question, so I might be OK there. Unfortunately, being on TV means that the person being interview is also being seen and this is rather stressful because I won’t be able to participate in my typical nervous mannerisms like wearing sweats, going barefoot, wiggling my leg, twisting my hair, or picking my nose. (JUST KIDDING! I never twist my hair when I’m nervous, it’s gross.) Meghan said she’ll help me pick out my outfit (I think that’s a good thing) and she’ll even come with me to cheer me on. I’m betting they’ll take one look at her and I’ll be out on the street while she becomes the next Adorable Bratty Celeb—OK maybe that’s wishful thinking on me getting out of the interview…but still.

At least I was able to spend some time—and a small fortune (“fortune” here means anything over the $15 hair color kit I used to buy at Wal-mart on sale)—with my hair guy named Stephen so my tresses look like they were all dressed by the same person, instead of the lower half by Dillard’s and the upper half by K-Mart. Well, perhaps not Dillard’s…but for sure Target.

Now If only they would airbrush people on live TV…

The next day, on Saturday (December 8^th), my first real book signing happens at a real bookstore. For one torturous hour (from 2 to 3p) I’ll be at the Barnes and Noble in a shopping area called The Summit—an upscale outdoor mall-ish place. Why someplace with such style would let me do a reading and a signing in an upscale area like the Summit is beyond me. I’ve not yet met Denise, the Scheduler of the B&N Signings there, which might have something to do with it.

The following weekend (the 15^th and 16^th) my friends Ruth and Sara plan to have an article and a review in the church newspaper which will accompany book-signing times at the church’s bookstore. Sara is not only an excellent reviewer, she is manager of The Living Word bookstore at Southeast and she promises to have a stash of Diet Coke for me to chug during the three hours or so (broken up around the three services, thankfully) of trying to be interesting as I sit…not unlike a poorly cooked turkey…waiting to see if someone wants to talk to me.

Much of this activity is a direct result of my Uber Connected Friend Debra who knows who to call and what to say. It is to her awesomeness that I’m indebted. Wait! A! Minute! Now that I think about it, I guess you could say that all of this is her fault. Yeah! I’m a victim! That’s what I am! Where’s Oprah!?

Anyway I’m still on the couch, curled up in a ball and I’ve taken up enough of your precious time. Thank you for letting me freak a bit. And thanks for your prayers. I know everything will go fine—or maybe it won’t. But I’m trusting God a bit better and that means that whatever happens, it’ll be OK and Another Adventure in this Crazy Chapter of Life. At the very least it’ll be another reason to whine to you via this wonderful medium of postage-free virtualness called email.

Thank You and Good Night at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

I Probably Don't Have This Disorder

But it sounds useful.

Key Headline: "You're not ugly, it's just your brain."

Or Maybe It's Your Cheapo Mirror at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Deja Vu...All Over Again

Several weeks ago, I had my second interview. Here is the report. I thought I had posted it but apparently I posted it on someone else's blog instead. Hope they liked it.

It’s over, yet again.

This time I had 8 pages of notes. But no McDonald’s. And I was busy: Monday is Co-op Day where several families get together and annoy each other’s children in an organized and academic fashion. So I scrambled around with my co-op duties until just before time to be “on the air.”

But fear not—I may not have had artery-clogging comestibles in my Radio Interview Survivl kit, but I did have a Diet coke…several of them, in fact, because…um…I brought my own...ah...cooler full. I am not making this up.

This interview was radically different than Saturday’s in that I’m not sure how much this person had read “Scared Silly,” if at all. Although the 30 minutes passed in a bit of a fog, I do recall him asking things like, “have you ever been scared silly?” and “do you have to be short to be in short wave radio?” and "Where are you taking your fears? Oh wait! The title is 'Taking ON your fears, what-ifs'...well that changes things, doesn't it?"

But having 30 minutes allowed me (even foggily) the luxury of continually regrouping my four brain cells in the hopes of having them fire intellegently and together. Ted, (the interviewer’s name) who I called “Ed” at least once and then realized what I had done and then apologized--liked to “banter”—a word that here means “to make little clever quips derailing the interviewee if said interviewee doesn’t have the mind of a steel trap or Albert Schweitzer.”

I have neither…so I also had to admit on the air, after chasing one of his one-liners, that I had lost my train of thought. (I'm desperately hoping that forgetting names and discussion threads are a GOOD thing in Duluth, Minnesota. Or a sign of "very smartness.")

Sigh.

The good news: That's two interviews under my belt (if I would ever wear one). And I didn’t throw up, hang up, or shut up…and to me that was a victory.

If you want to hear this particular bit of insanity go to: http://www.wwjc.com/northlandnotebook.html#archives and look up NorthLand Notebook.

Or you can hear it here: http://www.wwjc.com/nn/071029.mp3

My interview is the second one so you’ll either want to listen all the way through (she sounded VERY RELAXED and cool! GAACK!) or wait until it downloads and then skip to about halfway point.

Thanks again, for your prayers. I couldn’t do it without you!

UGGGHHH! I listened to about 15 seconds just now...I can't believe that was me! GAAAAACCCCKKKK!!!! Now I'm REALLY glad for your prayers! How hideous might I have sounded without them!?!?

Must. Have. Diet. Coke...And. Chips at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Did You Miss This Vital Piece of History?

Where chocolate really came from.

I Should Have Known at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

We Always Knew It Was True!

Work causes Stress. But we're getting our revenge.

I'll take "Ulcers and Technology" for $30 at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

And You Thought YOU Were Scared!

Check out the Japanese!

She'll Feel Mighty Silly When Someone Tries To Feed Her Some Change at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

It's Over...What Happened?

It’s over.

And because I have the gift of verbosity, let me tell you about it.

The two days prior were spent “outlining” my own silly book—This was the first interview and I wanted to be ready! After 12 hours of work I had five pages of material made up of helpful overviews like the “two things that influenced me the most,” or “the 4 lies we believe,” and even “if I only had 5 minutes to talk to some who was struggling with the what-ifs, what would I say.” Sections of Scared Silly had been dutifully highlighted and dog-eared with added extra notes in the margins…wait a minute? Was this a radio show or the ACT?

I arrived at the office a half hour early each page of my notes coded and carefully laid out on the desk before me. Extra information was up on my computer ready for accessing. A large diet coke from McDonalds sat beside me—the $1 cheeseburger had been consumed on the way (I always try to hit the Four Food Groups of Stress—grease, salt, carbs, and caffeine—in a situation like this. Because. I. Do.). The office phone was on—check; my cell phone off—check.

The first words from Pam Duffy’s mouth was, “Do you know the score?” My mind raced—score of what? Oh, right! She’s a UK fan! They must be playing! “I’m at my husband’s office,” I replied lamely. “They’re a media company but they don’t have real media here.” A quick check of the score online (UK was behind) and Pam quips, “Duffy’ll be right with you.”

“Right with you” in my mind—being the mind of a simpleton, apparently—meant that he’d pop on during the break and introduce himself and then lead into the interview. I sat enjoying the pleasant ads and devo thoughts while on hold waiting for Mr. Duffy. A hum and a prayer nearly erupted from my lips.

Suddenly the music changed…it sounded like…well…it sort of sounded like the opening to a show. And then came a jovial, radio voice, which said, “Welcome back, friends, to ‘Duffy and Company.’ Our last hour was filled with possible nuclear annihilation from Iran…my next guest wrote a book, blah, blah, blah….” My mind hiccupped and reeled as it tried to switch gears. “You’re. Not. On. Hold.” It frantically screamed. You’re ON. THE. AIRRRRRRR!!!!!

Thus was the start of my first interview. I don’t remember much else. Except that he kept referencing page numbers. PAGE NUMBERS! I did the summarize-your-brilliant-tome-in-a-minute-or-less exercises and this guy was asking (in a very loving, uplifting, and joyful way) about what I wrote on page 42. I couldn’t even remember if there WAS a page 42!

So I did the only thing that anyone would do in such a situation. I yammered. I B.S.’d. I made noises that sounded like I totally agreed with what he was saying when in fact I was scrambling to get my brain to understand English again. “No hable Englese,” nearly leaked from my voicebox at least once.

The other problem was that I kept waiting for a commercial break so I could gather my thoughts and get a swig of Diet Coke. Or maybe I’d just breathe. Or run away. At any rate, I thought there would come some sort of regrouping-type break. Instead, as the music was coming up signaling the long awaited respite, Duffy says, “And that was Marcy Bryan…next we’ll talk to two guys who…”

*Gack.* That was it. I never even got to say goodbye.

I felt like a cross between a limp, wet blanket and Charlie Brown coming off the pitcher’s mound with his head hung down after Lucy did (or said) yet another stupid thing. Shell-shocked, I turned on my cell and called Kevin and Megh (they were in central Kentucky filming) and packed up wondering if people in California buy books written by fools.

Fortunately, several friends and family had signed on and heard the event live. Thankfully they all felt like it went well. They even raved, God Bless them.

And through the fog of self-inflicted gagginess, I vaguely remember Warren Duffy, a veteran communicator who personally worked with the Beach Boys, say that “Scared Silly” was funny, profound, and helpful. God Bless him.

Maybe, just maybe, it would all right after all…

Thank you for all of your prayers. I’m sure they are to blame for getting me onto this wild ride in the first place. And I know they are what made me sound as good as I’m told I did.

Tonight the thought of Balaam’s ass comforts me.

Thank you God, there’s hope for even me.

I think.

Watching where I'm talking at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

First "Officital" Radio Interview--EEEEEEKKKKK!

It’s Friday night, late. Tomorrow (Saturday) I go on the air for my first pimping radio interview. The show is out of Los Angeles and I’m sandwiched between Halloween, the Sword of Islam, and the state of our country. My three favorite topics! *GACK* (sound of me choking on that lie!)

The program is called Duffy and Company. I’ve talked to Mrs. Duffy; she’s originally from Kentucky and still follows “her team” (UK), which gives me 1 point for living in the right state. Mr. Duffy worked with the Beach Boys back in the day so that puts him on the “Uber Groovy” list in my book. The show is Christian and conservative. Mr. Duffy looks like a cross between my old neighbor (named Al Cook) and Rush Limbaugh. He’s got a very peppy and pleasant radio voice. You’ll enjoy listening to him.

What might be the most unnerving is that Mr. Duffy has actually read “Scared Silly!” ­(The question immediately erupts in my mind is this: Why would he go and do a thing like THAT for!?!?!? Now I feel pressured to actually remember what I wrote so I can explain it! Why would he do such a thing to me???? What is this world coming to?!?!)

OK: Below are the links. I don’t know how to work them…although I did just get on (only through Explorer…NOT Mozilla) and putz’d around a bit. Sadly I can’t think about it much more until after the show is done, which sort of defeats the purpose of telling you. But you’re getting the email anyway because you’re probably more media savvy than I (don’t feel superior…our brain-dead dog Libby would probably qualify as “more media savvy than I” and she doesn’t even have opposable thumbs!). Even if you’re not…I’m coveting the one thing that seems like it would OK to covet if God allowed coveting: Your prayers.

Please pray that all 4 of my brain cells will fire well, together, and quickly. Please pray that I can answer Mr. Duffy’s questions succinctly, with spiritual sensitivity, and humor. I’m asking to help me to find favor with him and his many listeners. And especially PLEASE pray that the folks who need what is offered in this goofy book of mine will tune in at just right time for God-sized hug and huge dose of hope.

True confession: I’m scared (Duh!). But am exceedingly grateful for this opportunity. And I don’t want to blow it but I don’t want to make it into a bigger (or lesser) deal than it really is—a conversation with someone who as READ what I WROTE (I think we can all safely say: Everyone panic!)

The plan is for me to work on various responses tomorrow…then I’ll “pop” by Sam’s and get a diet coke on my way into Kev’s office. I’m using the phone there, which will help make the connection more stable compared to my “We’re AT&T And We Think We’re god Which Means You’re Outta Luck, Chump” cell phone service.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

The time is 6:40 pm till 7 pm.

If you like, feel free to listen LIVE by going to www.kwve.com. Or go to www.duffyandcompany.com and click on the podcasts for my interview (I think this will be primarily after the show but you can check it out as well). Once the live show is ended, they make it into an archive podcast. The Duffy’s are going on a “someplace ancient” tour (check out their website, for more info—it’s cool but because it’s late) so my interview might be available on their archive podcast as early as next week (10/23) although it’s more likely that it will be available the second or third week in November. Mrs. Duffy will email me with more of those details as she gets them and I’ll pass them onto you.

Thanks so much for your love and support through this ever-stretching time. I’m really glad to have you around.

Stressed out (but not as bad as I used to be!) at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Marcy

If You Ever Saw The Shining

This will make you feel all better about it.

I wish "doctored" movie trailers = real life at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Betcha Didn't Know THIS About Kentucky!

Key Quote: "Kentucky produces more marijuana than any other state except California."

There are several "farms" rumored to exist not far from where we live. I haven't gone looking for them...basically because I like living with all of my limbs. And I haven't told Kevin about the rumors because he'll go all "man, let's go look for them! It'll be a GREAT date" on me.

When you add all of the potential pot farms, actual tobacco farms, and bourbon distilleries, us here in Kentucky should be riddled with lung cancer, but happy and unawares.

So then, what about this? (seen at Dairy Queen)

Or this? (found at the Kentucky Derby)

Probably Living In the Uptight End Of the State at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Finally!

Therapy the way I like it: without people.

And They Say The Internet Rots Your Brain at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

Just When Things Were Getting Better...

Cnn.com reports this.

Stressing Out Over Being Stressed Out at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

David Bowie Needs "Scared Silly"

Here is some toe-tapping video evidence made with some Nine Inch Nails.

Davie Sure is Aging Well at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

And You Wonder Why We Are So Stressed Out

Maybe it's because of our past.

(I Really Watched This Show Which Explains A Lot About Me) at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

BTW: This complete our Youtube Trifecta...for today.

A Youtube.com Trifecta Is Now in Effect

A friend sent this music video by Nickelback to me the other day saying he thought of Kevin after viewing it.

It's oddly touching.

As is this.

OK So I Know These Are From MTV But I Don't Care at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

The World is Not Yet Lost

Scotland's Scrum sings "Amazing Grace." Really. And it's good!

That's a Wee Bit of Rad Piping, Laddie at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

In Case You Don't Have Enough Stress In Your Life

There's this.

Hand Me Some Chocolate And Nobody Gets Hurt at: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com

"THEY" have arrived!

Many thanks for your book; I shall lose no time reading it.

~Benjamin Disraeli

Today was a Red Letter Day, a Day of Anticipation and Celebration because we not only Got! Mail! We! Got! Package! as well. And, as if one wasn’t enough, three bundles graced my door stoop. The first was the obligatory replacement satellite receiver from Dish Network (Motto: “Happily working unless there is weather then we freeze up like [fill in your favorite “frigid” simile here]). Apparently, during the last storm, some rogue electrons escaped from a nearby lightening strike and tried to abnormally “energize” my receiver. This caused the receiver to become fickle and moody so it’ll only “power up” when it “feels like it” and won’t play recorded programs at all. “I’m tired,” it seems to say as it clicks and grinds through its startup mode. “I guess you can watch Spongebob now but I just don’t have the energy to pull up the new Feasting on Asphalt that you recorded last week. Sorry. …Whirr…Spin…Reboot.” Maybe I should pour some Rockstar Energy Drink into its circuits (Motto: Who needs drugs? We whack you out legally!). Our Adopted Movie Son Harrison (more about him later) turned us on to it, and although I’ve not had the nerve to actually try some, Meghan said it was quite good. Actually I think it went more like: “WOWITSKINDOFLEMONYBUTBOY!DOIFEELFULLOFENERGYANDEXCITEMENTANDMAYBEI’MSEEINGTHINGSORITCOULDBETHATI’VEJUSTSTAYEDUPALLNIGHTANDAMTOTALLYEXHAUSTEDSOEVERYTINGLOOKSFUNNYANDMAKESMELAUGHHAHAHAHAHAH!SOB!

The next box was badly beaten, and with probable good reason: it came from www.flylady.net. Intense whinage has occurred here about this woman in the past and although I continue to moan and groan over her assignments and sink cleaning, I do most of them and they’re making a difference. Finally, after much vacillation I pressed my “widow’s mite” into her altar box of commerce so I, too, could receive the blessings I’ve read about in her deluge of emails (more on that later, too).

But the third box took my breath away. It was large-ish and oddly shaped—as though someone used a container too big for its intended purpose—the address label was white and unassuming. But I knew from whence it came and of what it was full.

“Scared Silly” had arrived.

I was weirdly reticent about opening the box…I’m not sure why…like I didn’t want to know that my thoughts had been reproduced in the manner of cloned sheep or counterfit money to be scrutinized by friends, foes, and experts alike. I opened it last. And tentatively. With almost shaking hands. There they were, two-dozen of ‘em in there, their eyes looking up at me over the brown box edges, their title trailing jauntily, yet earnestly, across the page.

I shut the lid and called my mom.

She wasn’t home so I called Kevin.

“Hey,” I said, doubtfully. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” he replied. “What’s up?”

“Um…I got my books today.”

“How do they look?"

"There's a lot of stinkin' words in there, Kev."

"That's great! Can't wait to see them."

“Um…yeah. Now what do I do?”

That’s the thing. I should feel elation. Or at least a bit of triumph: It Is Finished. But it’s not, you see. I must now find ways to Get It Out There. I haven’t heard from my publicist so it feels like it’s up to me even though I gave the distribution of this thing to God weeks ago, today I take it back from Him because He isn’t moving any merchandise. Well, I guess He can’t officially because it’s not out until September 3, but that doesn’t matter. It feels like it’s All Up To Me and I Just Don’t Know What To Do.

How weird after trying to not be in the center of stuff for years, I now must try to strategically be in the center of stuff without looking like I’m trying to be at the center of stuff.

I guess I could wait on God, but what if…

Oh, never mind.

Needing Some Serious Natural Cheetos and Diet Coke Meds—Pronto! At: marcyjoybryan@gmail.com