He Knows Me

We're in program overload at our house as the Christmas musical opens on Thursday. It's all I think about and work at, even in my dreams. About this time every year I get a little nervous, wondering how the audience will accept what we've written. I start analyzing the script for flaws, looking for places I should have worked harder. I beg God to take our measly human effort and make it mean something, to open the eyes of others to His message.

In anything you write, there's a piece of yourself in it, a glimpse into how you see the world, sometimes a peek into where you've come from or how you've struggled. One year we had a character named Hope whom everybody assumed was me. Busted. Another time I found myself unexpectedly in a little girl character. How weird it was to discover she was me on the last night of performances! How did I not see it until then? I suppose the anxiousness I feel as the show is about to open, is a fear of being exposed. If someone rejects what you've written, it feels personal, like they disapprove of you. I can hide behind the characters a little, but will someone see through them? What will they find and how will it affect their view of me?

We've been doing this long enough now that I'm letting it go for the most part, but this year in one scene there's a few lines that are actual words I have uttered. Every time we run through that scene, I'm stopped short, fighting the urge to look around to see if anyone notices me there.

"There's part of a scene that screams me," I told my husband.

Without hesitation, he rattled off the first line of the series. I was flabbergasted.

"How did you know exactly what it was?" I asked.

"I know you," he said proudly.

At first I wanted to smack him for his smugness, then I worried again that I'd be seen in the script, then I realized the gift. My husband gets me. Something about that makes me as soft and mushy as a marshmallow. This is why it's so easy to share a life with this man, to work closely together. This is why I never get tired of that guy.

He knows me.

And I am one blessed woman.


Just in case you're interested in the program . . .

Wanting to Make a Big Difference

I want to do big things for God.

I want my time here to matter.

To be honest, I get a little jealous of people God uses in big ways. I read blogs and envy the followers others have. I long for opportunities to talk about God. I read books and wish I had written them. I want to be used by Him.

But in my pursuit of big things, I overlook things that are big to God. I am intimately involved in the lives of some amazing people, getting a front row seat to God's work. It is my profound privilege to walk alongside them, nudging them along in obedience to God. I have opportunities to proclaim Him in my little community. I regularly interact with others spiritually.

And yet I want to do more. I pray, like Jabez, for God to expand my "territory." I pore over statistics and marketing advice and wonder what I'm doing wrong. Why can't I be satisfied with what I already do?

As I pray about this, God halts my flawed thinking.

Are three people not as important as 300? Are masses more consequential than individuals? Doesn't an impact on one life count? If I would have died for one person, shouldn't you be willing to expend yourself, give up anything for only ONE?

I am humbled. Who do I think I am? ANY work done for God is big. Huge. Numbers mean nothing.

My attitude is an indication I'm looking through human eyes, trying to get validation from my world, not my God. I'm focusing on me and what I can do, not on what God is doing.

Sigh.

I can't do anything for God. Only God working through me helps others. I want to make a big difference, but I forget HE defines difference and HE does the work.

So maybe my prayer should be, "Lord, empty me and fill it with You." Only then will any work matter.



Photo Credit: dr_relling

7 Quick Takes (Volume 160)--The Thanksgiving Edition

1) We spent Thanksgiving at Kevin's parents' house. You know how families tend to congregate in the kitchen? Get a load of these pictures with the grandkids and my mom.


Can you tell these cousins haven't seen each other in a while?


2) Remember Ladies Man's mishap with a frozen turkey last week? How's this for funny? Our youth group leaders gave us the turkey! We didn't cut into it for Thanksgiving, but we will eat that guy. Oh yes we will.


Can you imagine this frozen hunk whacking you in the head? No wonder Ladies Man complained of headaches for a few days. The scar, however, is healing nicely.


3) Are you a Black Friday shopper? We've done it when there was a deal on something we couldn't afford without the deep discount, but I'm not a big lover of shopping. My poor mother spent years with me, fingering racks and sighing, finding something wrong with everything without trying anything on (I'm SO SORRY, Mom!). I still fight the tendency. Truth be told, I often pray before venturing out to clothes shop. I've got too many bad memories from childhood of having a hard time finding anything to fit my pudgy frame. My husband says I look for reasons NOT to buy things. Does anyone understand why a man would have a problem with that?!

4) I got some great pics of our family. First just the kids, arranged in birth order--Drummer Boy, Drama Queen, Ladies Man and Miss Innocent One.


Proof that boys will always be boys.


Who love to harass their sisters.


One of me with my girls.


And Kevin and the boys.



5) Should one be concerned when they see a sign like this at their mother-in-law's house?



And here's why it should probably stay a secret. Drummer Boy needed an ugly sweater for a pep band gig, so Grandma suggested he look through her closet. Why, I don't know! She's a little bitty thing! Here's the one Drummer Boy decided to use.


Of course, Ladies Man had to get in on the fun.


Then their cousin joined in. Is this just ridiculous or what? Three big guys in teeny Grandma's sweaters. You think she has a soft spot for her grandsons?


6) And yet another reason what happens at Grandma's stays at Grandma's. Drummer Boy and Grandma have a race eating a pickle. (Email subscribers will have to click over to the blog to see this video.)


Yes, we are a crazy bunch. Now you see where it comes from. Go Grandma!

7) Surely you knew this was coming. Gotta plug the musical another time. It opens in less than a week!


Hope to see you there!

I hope your Thanksgiving was as enjoyable as ours. Read more Quick Takes at Conversion Diary.

We Have Been Blessed Far Beyond

"We thank thee with all our hearts for every gracious dispensation, for all the blessings that have attended our lives, for every hour of safety, health, and peace, of domestic comfort and innocent enjoyment. We feel that we have been blessed far beyond anything that we have deserved; and though we cannot but pray for a continuance of all these mercies, we acknowledge our unworthiness of them and implore thee to pardon the presumption of our desires.

Keep us oh! Heavenly Father from evil this night. Bring us in safety to the beginning of another day and grant that we may rise again with every serious and religious feeling which now directs us.

May thy mercy be extended over all mankind, bringing the ignorant to the knowledge of thy truth, awakening the impenitent, touching the hardened. Look with compassion upon the afflicted of every condition, assuage the pangs of disease, comfort the broken in spirit."

by Jane Austen


Happy Thanksgiving, friends.

A Way to Say Thank You

I have much to be thankful for--a good marriage, peaceful home life, good relationships with family and friends, good health, opportunities.

But having much to be thankful for, makes me responsible for much. Because I'm in a good place right now (one never knows what a day will bring), I'm in a position (and expected) to help others who aren't. God wants me building others up, helping them do what He's asked, whether I feel like it or not. I need to fulfill obligations in every opportunity that comes my way, requiring time and energy. When I've been down, others have come alongside to pick me up, to keep me going. Now it's my turn.

“Let us remember that, as much as has been given us, much will be expected from us, and that true homage comes from the heart as well as from the lips, and shows itself in deeds.”
Theodore Roosevelt

How do I thank God for His blessings?

Love His people.

Listen to them. Encourage them. Work for them. Show them how important they are to God. Be in their corner. Cheer them on. Feed them. Hold them up. Speak truth.

Love them.

. . . I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.

Matthew 25:40

The best way to honor God, to offer Him true gratitude, is to love as He does.

Tall order? Sure, but He doesn't ask more of us than He's given Himself. And doesn't He deserve it?

Now it's your turn. What does this quote inspire in you? Write a post and link up here.

The Importance of Stepping Foot in His World

I don't think wielding a paint brush is terribly loving or romantic or sexy.

But apparently my husband does.

We're gearing up for our church's musical and spending lots of time working on the set. Though he's swamped and worn out, as he passes by me, paint in my hair, on my face, all over my clothes, and looking generally grody, he pauses for a look, a little kiss, and an "I love you."

It means something to him that I'm there.

It's no big deal, I tell him. I like to paint. And besides, I'd never see him this time of year if I wasn't there. There's no talking (other than "What needs to be done?"), no looking good for each other. Half the time I don't bother with makeup cause I know I'll get enough paint on me to need a shower anyway. We're just there doing the task at hand.

So why does it mean something to him? Why does it make him so loving?

I think it's because I've stepped foot in his world, gaining understanding into the stresses on him, the projects that take him away. I'm there, trying to alleviate some of the pressure by helping in a small way.

I used to think the only way I could make his life easier and enable him to do what he's supposed to do, was by manning the home front, by taking care of things at home so when he got here he could just be. But apparently there's something to being in his world, to witnessing his frustrations, his work load. Seeing him in his element boosts him somehow.

Admittedly, this is easy for me, as my husband works at a church and volunteers are always welcome! But I do it in ways outside of church too. I play in the Regional Orchestra he conducts. When he offers I listen to new music he's composed. I listen as he reads both rejection and acceptance letters from music publishers. All very little things, but ways I can see more of who my husband is and share in his world.

He's mushy this time of year, and all I'm doing is standing around in yucky clothes, swinging a paint brush over walls and flats and stairs and whatever else needs it on his set. Such a little thing to show him he means the world to me.

And yet it matters to him.

Should we wives look for opportunities like this, places we can step foot in his world? Is this a way we can build up our men and show them respect? Could we bring him lunch at the office? Make sure we attend business parties? Listen to his stories from work? Buy gadgets that make his life easier? Does our interest in his job help him do it better?

None of it can hurt, can it?

And personally, the payoff is fantastic.

Is there some small way you can you step foot in your husband's world?

See more Marriage Monday posts at Chrysalis.


For those of you close enough to come, here's the info on said church musical.

Hosting In Other Words This Week

Hey, I'll be your illustrious (or mundane--you decide) host for In Other Words this week. The quote I've chosen comes from our 26th president, with a thought on gratitude.

"Let us remember that, as much as has been given us, much will be expected from us, and that true homage comes from the heart as well as from the lips, and shows itself in deeds.”

Theodore Roosevelt

Let this quote inspire your post and come back here Tuesday, November 22, to link up. Hope to see your name!

7 Quick Takes (Volume 159)

Oh my, it's been an eventful week at the Boesiger house.

1) First we celebrated Ladies Man's birthday. Miss Innocent One had to do a project for her Family Consumer Science class that centered around a celebration, so she made a pizza and cake for the occasion. I think she had a little too much fun.


2) After a couple rounds of laser tag and dinner, Drama Queen arranged a surprise party for Ladies Man back at our house. She and Miss Innocent One and a friend of Ladies Man, put a pillowcase over his head, drove him around town and brought him back to our house for this:


In the move that makes him cool Dad of the year, Kevin danced to one song on the kids' Just Dance game. Since Drama Queen already shared this on Facebook and Drummer Boy jacked it for his page too, I figure I can follow suit. This is the entertaining man I am married to (on the right). I love you, babe!


(Those of you who receive this via email may need to click onto the actual blog to view this.)

3) How's this for a strange occupational hazard?

Drummers often march backwards and do so on their toes. As a result, they build up some terrific calf muscles. Drummer Boy's calves are so bulked up, they rub up against each other when he's marking time. He's done so much of this, he's got bald spots in both his calves!


4) I think I should be worried about what society is teaching my younger son.

Drama Queen: Listen to this: God's most complicated creature--woman. Oh brother.

Ladies Man: What? It's true.

Drama Queen: Only if you're a moron.

Ladies Man: It's the nature of the male species.

Aack! Is he watching too many sitcoms?! Thank the Lord for a husband who knows what's up.

Kevin (in his most disgusted tone): No. It's not.

Thank you, my darling husband, for being a great example of the non-moronic men out there! And a good dancer, a good kisser and . . . never mind. Keep talking to our sons!

5) As if Kevin's splinter injury wasn't enough for us, Ladies Man took a turkey to the head (yes, you heard me right--a frozen turkey!) at youth group and got a pretty good gash.


Every year at this time our youth group has the Turkey Olympics where they play games with frozen turkeys. They don't normally fly through the air, but Ladies Man and another high school sponsor were playing catch to keep it away from the kids. Ladies Man thought they were done. The other sponsor didn't. The turkey was heavy enough it not only gashed his head, but knocked him out and to the floor. He ended up with four stitches.


The best part was explaining to the people in the ER how it happened.

"I got hit in the head with a frozen turkey."

You should have seen their faces! So funny! If they'd take fifty bucks off the bill for every time we heard, "Are you serious?" we could get that visit for free! Even the doctor came in saying, "Did you really get hit in the head with a frozen turkey or are you too embarrassed to say you ran into a door frame?"

Ladies Man thinks it's awesome. He thinks the scar will look like a lightning bolt and he'll have a great story to tell about this for the rest of his life.

6) Don't you love this text I received from Drama Queen?!

"Mother. My face looks a lot like you today. Idk why. It might be the way I did my makeup. Idk but it's freaking me out. Not saying it's a bad thing at all though."

Should I holler YAY or say I'm sorry?

7) I can't call it a week without another plug for our church's Christmas musical coming up in less than two weeks (YIKES!) Hope you can come!


That's all I got today, folks. Maybe you should pray for the rest of us in the Boesiger house who haven't suffered some sort of weird injury. With two weeks to go before the musical opens, there's no telling what might happen! Have a great weekend and find more Quick Takes at Conversion Diary.

My Mothering Failure

I should have known better.

When Miss Innocent One plopped down in my office and said she was going to do her math homework there "in case she had any questions," I should have shut my laptop and given her my full attention.

It's just that my day had already been interrupted by an impromptu visit to the doctor for "splinter removal," and school had gotten out early and we had to pick up Ladies Man's new glasses and he needed some things from Walmart.

I should have known, but instead I typed away, hoping to finish in time to make supper and get to Bible study. But she kept having questions, kept interrupting my train of thought, and though I helped her, my inconvenienced, annoyed attitude came through loud and clear.

To add to the commotion, Kevin came home early and joined us in the office. Soon Ladies Man came in to get a glimpse of Kevin's splinter-less hand, all the while I'm trying to keep my cool and answer questions about math. When Kevin couldn't find the antibiotic ointment, I lumbered down the stairs to help him and whispered my frustration through clenched teeth.

She's driving me crazy. I can't get anything done.

I got him fixed up and wandered back upstairs to find Miss Innocent One in a major huff.

Miss Innocent One: You're making me feel like a stupid idiot.

Me: What did I do to make you feel like a stupid idiot? I'm helping you! Let's just get this done.

Miss Innocent One (still fuming): This is stupid. I stink at math.

Me: No you don't. Come on, let's finish this.

Miss Innocent One (as loud as she gets): I don't want to do this!

She threw her pencil and stomped out of the room. Now math gets her goat consistently, but this outburst was VERY uncharacteristic of her. She only had three problems left so I pushed her to come back and finish. She did, but not with the best attitude and as soon as we were done, she stomped back to her bedroom. I gave her some space. A few minutes later she wandered back to my office to ask a different question.

Me: Are you okay, honey? Why did you get so upset?

Miss Innocent One (tears welling): Just frustrated, I guess.

Me: Are you sure there isn't more to it?

Miss Innocent One (still holding back the dam): I don't know.

Me (figuring it out): Did you hear what I said to Dad?

She nodded slowly, still willing away the tears.

And I felt like the worst mother on the face of the globe. When will I learn I don't have to utter everything that crosses my brain? Why didn't I remember to give her the time first and I'd be less frustrated in the long run? How could I make it right?

Me: I'm sorry, honey. I was just frustrated. I don't think you're a stupid idiot. Not at all. I should have stopped what I was doing to help you and we would have been done sooner. It's my fault. I'm sorry. Do you forgive me?

She nodded and I walked over to give her a hug, apologizing again. She is gracious and loving and doesn't hold grudges, but I still kicked myself around for my own stupidity. And I could have stayed there, wallowing in my mothering mistake, not allowing myself any slack, being stuck in the mire of my mind. But what does that do? How would that help this situation? What good is accomplished?

Instead I chose to be thankful, for a gracious daughter, who is WAY more kind and compassionate than I am, for forgiveness, for resolution to an ugly situation. I thanked Him for giving me words to say and prayed for Him to heal my daughter's tender heart.

And I thanked Him that I had this bad scene as reference and motivation to do better the next time.

Join Laurie at Women Taking a Stand to see more Thankful Thursday posts.

Got Faith?

I worry about the same problem, and berate myself for doing so.

Where is my faith?

I know God has power to do all, but I also know He doesn't always do it how I want Him to. I know His way can be hard and painful and take a very long time. Frankly, I'm not sure I have it in me to wait for His plan to unfold. I mean, I will and I must, but my heart and spirit . . . I'm scared of what it might mean. I know He knows best, but I'm a wimp.

What does that say about my faith?

I beat myself up about it until my friend's words cut to my heart.

Our struggles don't define our faith. You get up every morning and pray and keep putting it in God's hands. THAT is what defines your faith and that is exactly what you are doing. Your fears are not KEEPING you from keeping on.

She's right, of course. Doubts don't define our faith. Our actions do. My faith may feel wobbly to me, but I keep going back to God, keep seeking His face in the matter. Faith is believing, though we don't like what He's doing or how He's doing it, that He is in control. I worry, but as I bring it before Him each day, each moment the anxiety strikes, my faith says, "God, You know best. I don't get it and I'm a bit afraid, but here it is. You are God."

The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith, is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living. It's our handle on what we can't see.

Hebrews 11:1 (MES)

I may not be as serene and confident as Father Abraham, the epitome of faith, but I got me some faith, people. If you keep seeking, keep asking, keep believing He has your best interests at heart, so do you, my friend, whether you feel strong or not. Let's not let Satan convince us otherwise and take away our only hope. My faith may be small, but it only has to be as big as a mustard seed to be powerful. As long as I hang onto it, I have a handle on what I can't see. I have hope.

Will you let your doubts define your faith?



Photo Credit: another.point.in.time

A Reason to Be Happy About the Scars

As a Christian, I expect God to protect me. Oh, I don't say it out loud, but my attitude declares it. Whenever something bad happens, my first response is, "Why, God? Why did You let this happen to me? What did I do wrong?"

See? I think if I do what I'm supposed to, my life should be cushy and care free. But God doesn't work that way. He tells us to take up our cross and follow Him. He says blessed are you when men persecute you. Sound like easy street?

“No wound? No scar?
Yet as the Master shall the servant be,
And pierced are the feet that follow Me;
But thine are whole. Can he have followed far
Who has no wound nor scar?”

Amy Carmichael

Jesus promised, "In this world you will have trouble." Don't we know it?! We will experience pain and heartache. Difficulties will be part of our existence. We can expect wounds and scars.

And we should be happy about them.

For those scars are visible reminders that Jesus has called us to walk closer with Him. In our trials, we have no where else to turn, so we look for Him. He says, "Come, my child. Look at Me, not the problem. Let Me show you real peace. Come." We're forced to look beyond what we can see to His greater good, His better plan. To Him.

Our scars are markers of His touch, never to be the same again. They are evidence of healing. They are daily reminders of His goodness. They speak to how He's delivered us. They proclaim His work.

I'll be happy about my scars, because I know how He's brought me through.

I am changed forever.

For the good.

Can you be happy about your scars?

Join Nina at Mama's Little Treasures for more thoughts on this quote.

A Note to Men About PMS

Yes, we know we're volatile. Unpredictable. A bit crazy even.

But that doesn't mean the things we blow up about aren't justified. It's not that it's never bothered us before. The issue has been there all along and we've been able to overlook it. We've always noticed the glasses you leave all over the house, the clothes which never make it to the laundry basket, the lights you leave on, the toilet paper roll you never change. It takes only a few seconds to take care of it ourselves and we're happy to do it. We know you don't see we got the oil changed and made your favorite food for supper. Yet we understand it's no big deal. You are busy doing important work. We're proud of you and are fully capable of handling things on our own. We are, after all, your help meet.

But when hormones kick in we lose our tolerance, our normal level of grace. Suddenly you're not so cute anymore and neither are your annoying habits. We wonder if anything we do matters. And really, do we have to do everything?! When is it my turn to sit on the couch and watch t.v.? And you never bring me flowers anymore.

We realize these things fly out of our mouths and blindside you. We wish we could take them back the minute we hear them. It's like our capacity for self-control diminishes 1000%. We don't mean to be monsters. Believe it or not, we're holding back half of what we'd LIKE to say. We're actually working very hard to smush the grr within.

So thank you for your patience during these crazy days. We will continue to fight through them as we know you do too. Try to remember who we really are, okay? Most days we're on your team and deep down we still are when the hormones rage. We've been given this curse thanks to Adam and Eve who BOTH ate the fruit. We're in this together. Aren't you so happy?



Photo Credit: patries71

7 Quick Takes (Volume 158)

1) We had a great time celebrating my mom's birthday last Friday night. One of my faithful blog readers asked me to take some pictures and I happily obliged. Here is my mom with her four children. Yes, I, the black-haired, brown-eyed woman on the left, am a full blooded sister to the blond, blue-eyed woman on the right.


I am the oldest, my sister is two years younger than me and my brothers are twins, ten years younger than me.

Our spouses were complaining about not being in the picture, so we gave them one of their own. They were so happy with how it turned out, they're threatening to send it to all our relatives for a Merry Christmas from the Outlaws.


Then we put all of us together, so you can see who goes with who.


It was a great night. Hope you enjoyed it, Mom. We sure did.

2) We were talking of Ladies Man's early years, where we literally drug him to school kicking and screaming, and in one of those maybe-I-did-something-right moments which rarely come, he agreed with us.

Me: I'm glad you can see now how important it was to push you.

Ladies Man: Yeah, 'cause I wouldn't have any friends or ever talk to girls.

Kevin: And that's like . . .

Ladies Man (with a smirk and hint of pink on his cheeks): . . . the most important thing.

3) Part of our Christmas musical set includes a second story office. Kevin and his crew got busy constructing the thing last week. The structure wasn't finished for Sunday morning, but partially up and you wouldn't believe the number of people who told Kevin it wasn't sturdy. I can't tell you how many times he said, "I know. It's not finished." One actor who has to be on the platform a lot of the time, understandably voiced his concerns. To show him he didn't need to worry, Kevin planked on the unfinished platform.


Keep in mind, this thing is ten and half feet off the ground! He is such a stud. Don't worry, people. Rest assured, my CAM friends. He knows what he's doing. That thing will hold hundreds of pounds before they're done with it.

4) Kevin's set woes didn't end with the lack of confidence shown for his office platform. On Wednesday, while lifting a piece of plywood for sheeting it, a piece of wood went into his hand. I got a call on my cell phone.

Kevin: Hey, I'm on the way to the doctor's office. I got a sliver in my hand.

Me (always excited to dig weird things out of weird places and disappointed I wouldn't get a shot at it): A sliver? You're going to the doctor?

Kevin: Yeah, well Sam's with me. He wouldn't let me drive.

You see my concern? Obviously Kevin is the master of understatement. Who needs someone to drive them to the doctor for a sliver? Upon arrival I saw the problem. This picture doesn't do it justice. The "sliver" ends were literally pushing his skin out. All of the nurses in the clinic winced.


You can see the entry point. Just above that is a pen mark. Under the pen mark is a bulge. If you follow the pen mark up to the edge of his hand you can kind of make out the other bulge. They had to deaden it, make a little incision and go digging for the thing. It was no easy task. That puppy was stuck tight!


And here's the "sliver."


We're talking a hunk of wood at least an inch long and thicker than a toothpick.

I think I should get Supportive Wife of the Year, don't you? I mean I'm sure I was great help taking all those pictures. And I had one hand on his back the whole time. He's such a lucky man.

5) There are some distinct advantages to your children getting older. Miss Innocent One took it upon herself this week to clean out her drawers (dressers drawers, people, not pants). Never mind it was necessary in order for her to have drawers that were actually functional. She did it on her own accord. So can I count that as anti-hoarding if it happened in my house?

6) My Boesiger Bunch Family Fun Fridays on Facebook is not achieving my desired result. Drama Queen is the only one who participates and actually noticed when I didn't do it last Friday. What do I need to do to engage them? I've posed questions, posted pictures and added a Bible verse I'd been mulling over. We even posted an old picture with speech bubbles and asked them to fill in the bubbles.

Drama Queen's answered the call every time. Maybe I need to change the name to Me and Drama Queen Hashing Over Life Fridays. She gets the best kid award for the month! If the rest of you are upset about that, put up or shut up, my darling children.

7) Happy Birthday to Ladies Man who turns 16 tomorrow! This guy passed his driver's ed exam back in July and has been chomping at the bit ever since to be driving. Tomorrow, my son, tomorrow.

And don't worry, people. He's actually a very good driver. Dare I say, better than Drummer Boy and Drama Queen? (I know I'll hear about that one!) My only concern is his way of hollering out the window while leaving the school parking lot, his head hanging half way out.

Dude! Hey! Yeah, catch ya later. How ya doing? Hey man!

You get the picture. As long as you're not in the school parking lot, you should be okay with another Boesiger child driving.

And that's it for today, my lovely friends. Hope you have a terrific weekend. Catch more Quick Takes at Conversion Diary.