Maybe I should learn mandolin? Or not.

Yep. Mmmhmmm. That's Chris Thile. In person. With me. Holding my hand. (Because I told him I liked Punch Brothers better than Nickel Creek. Not because he thought I was super gorgeous and charming. Ha! No.)

I went to Birmingham, Alabama, (which has the worst downtown in the whole world, by the way - at least, it's the worst at 10:15 p.m., lost, looking for a Starbucks, only to find one and it be closed as of nineteen minutes before you got there,) with some friends to see Chris Thile perform with the Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. It was really amazing. He played Bach and Radiohead and Bartok. Yeah. The Bach was the very best of all, and I don't even love Bach.

If you've been living under a sad, dark, damp box and don't know who the Punch Brothers are, or who Chris Thile is, (only the dude who is totally re-vamping everyone's opinion of the mandolin and its abilities,) go here to see Chris perform Bach's E Major Prelude. It. Is. Fantastically. Wonderful.

Or here to hear him sing "Flow Gently Sweet Afton."

And here to see Punch Brothers performing. It's not my favorite of their songs, by any means, but it's beautiful. Their song "Punch Bowl" sounds great, but the lyrics aren't that hot. As in, don't think I'm recommending it. I'm not.

While we're on that note, I'd just like to clarify that while I think Chris Thile is very talented, and I enjoy his music, he is quite Godless. So, I am recommending his sound, but not at all his person or philosophies. Got that? Okay. Disclaimer finished.


Anyway, last night was fun, fun, fun. I always love going to the Symphony. It's so elegant and old-fashioned, and it reminds me of Daddy. And of why I love music. Oh, why is that? Because it's not only passionate and sweet and powerful all at the same time, it makes me tingle from head to toe, and it is so full of life. And... you know what? I'm just gonna have to write about music someday. Or a lot of somedays. It's really difficult to pin it down with words. Which is why music was invented. 'Cause sometimes words give out.


P.S. If you want to know where the corner of 11th and 8th is, I can tell you this. It's not where there's a Starbucks.

In which I turn seventeen and drink gallons of Dr. Pepper

Today is my birthday. I like birthdays, I do. Presents, party, a growing aura of wisdom and advancement... what's not to like?

But this birthday is even better than most.

You see, on September 12th, I decided to give up all soft drinks until my birthday. Period. Not a sip of Coke, not a chug of Pepsi, not a swig of Sprite. And mostly, not a whiff of Dr. Pepper.

Now, it may not seem like such a big deal to y'all, but I drank at least one Dr. Pepper a day. Why? Because Dr. Pepper is wonderful and amazing and the best invention known to man aside from the electric washing machine. Duh.

But I bravely determined to quit cold turkey. Quit, with never an anguished glimpse towards my twenty-four pack sitting sweetly and invitingly. Okay, I lied. Actually, I quit with several anguished glimpses towards my twenty-four pack sitting sweetly and invitingly. But that's neither here nor there. The bottom line is, I quit.

It's been a rough forty-five days.

However, this morning, with the pale grey dawn breaking over the hills, (how's that for touching imagery?) I was free from the curse which has haunted my steps and my mouth for so long.

And, oh, how good that icy cold Dr. Pepper felt slipping down my dry and ravished throat, which has gasped and begged for its tonic, its heroin, its addiction, ever since I quit. (Yeah, I'm exaggerating. It sounds so much better put like that than just "it tasted really good." Hemingway I ain't.)

I'm determined to not just drink with abandon, now that I've got the habit mostly out of my system. I'm going to really limit my intake of soft drinks. I'm gonna keep it waaay down. I promise.

Right after I drink another Dr. Pepper.

After all, it is my birthday.

Why, yes. He really is that goofy.

Dear Jody,

Happy, happy Birthday.

I am so incredibly glad that you live near enough now that we can celebrate our birthdays together. Glad that you no longer rope broncos and handle saber tooth tiger skulls in Texas, or sail the bounding billows in a ship ever so far away from Mississippi, or live on the eighth floor of an apartment in Memphis with a dog named Remus, or in Jackson, TN with every possibility of being blown away by a tornado at any moment, or in Kentucky overseeing the needs and disobediences of a group of Radio Shacks, but that instead, you live right in New Albany where we can stop by any time, and you can run see us any time. Or, well, almost any time. Actually, more like when the stars are properly aligned.

Anyway, here's hoping you have a happy day... I never cease to enjoy the knowledge that I was born just one day after your 16th birthday. Talk about an amazing birthday present! :) You're one of the best big brothers a gal could ever have.

I love you.

- Little Sister

Mississippi Hot Dog

"Why do you take violin?"

"Oh, because I love it, and because I want to be a teacher someday."

Well, a few weeks ago, the "I want to be a teacher" part came true with this little guy.

His name is Tripp, and I have to say, I've thought a lot about teaching before, but I had no idea how much I'd love it. Thinking that right now - this moment right here - I am starting a little boy on his musical journey is a wonderful and scary thought. My first lesson I was nervous as a cat on a hot tin roof and felt like I repeated myself a million times without making any sense.

But I really did love it. I can't completely put my finger on why, but I think it had something to do with the fact that I was reaching back to some of my favorite days ever, the days when I held my own violin for the very first times and scratched out horribly squeaky notes which made everyone within a mile cringe. The days when I played twinkle, twinkle, little star until Daddy never wanted to hear it again. (He didn't tell me that then, of course, but admitted it later.) The days when I listened to my Bach and Vivaldi cds over and over, thinking "some day I will play that." The days when AnnMarie went around saying she lived in Mississippi hot dog, because that's the phrase you say for the first rhythm you learn on the violin. It goes dadadada da da. And I played it until my fingers bled. (Just kidding.)

It helps tremendously that Tripp is one of the sweetest, funniest little boys on earth, and that he kindly chuckles at my non-funny jokes. My teacher was always amusing, and things always communicate so much better with humour that I decided to try it. I personally felt as though it fell flat.

So, here I am. A violin teacher. For real.

And yesterday, I taught my first student to play Mississippi hot dog. And I nearly passed out with excitement and a sense of deja vous.

To Tripp's family: Please don't hate me for telling him to play it over and over and over again every day. It'll be over soon, I promise.

Here comes the bride...

I have this friend, see.

She's the sweetest, most loving girl you will ever meet, and although when we first met I didn't think she liked me or knew how to talk, I discovered that she was only a wee bit shy and not one to jump into things. Now, thank God, I am blessed to call her one of my dearest friends. (I assure you, she can talk, too.)

We rattle on forever about Amy Carmichael and Jane Austen and Elizabeth Gaskell, she never tires of lending books, discussing books, or talking about Christ, and I know she will be there for me if I ever need anything. In other words, she's really wonderful.

Well, this best friend met a blond haired boy a few months ago. And no surprise, he very quickly fell for her. And she grew to love and respect him. And tonight at church, she had a beautiful diamond on her finger.

Emily, I am so very, very happy for you. I can't tell you how excited I am that you are marrying someone who shares your love for Christ, (and for reading!) and I am praying for you both as you prepare to begin a new life together. I am confident that, just as you are an amazing friend, sister, and daughter, you will make an amazing wife. Please don't move too far away.

Much Love,
Katie

You wanna know what's stupid?

Grabbing the reallyreally fiery hot pot on the stove with bare fingers.

Yeah.

You sure 'bout that?

Mama: "Before you go to bed, you should gargle with salt water and dip a q-tip in salt water and swab the inside of your nose. There's a lot of sickness going around, and those are good preventative measures."

Ummmm.... actually, I think those two things might make me sick. Have you ever gargled salt water? Because it's disgusting. And if you want my nose to burn so badly I can't breathe... well, I guess I wouldn't get sick if I wasn't breathing.

The Wild Blue Yonder

Balancing Rock in the Garden of the Gods... if you look, you'll see lots of different shapes and images. I see a camel, an alligator, and a pig. Yep. It's called scope for the imagination.


Wait! Is that a dream? Did I just dream that gorgeous blue lake surrounded by evergreens and snow capped mountains? Because it's so beautiful.
Woohoo!! We finally got out of the van!
Oh, and there's a cool sign, too. Yeah, uh, huh, that's absolutely why we stopped. Not because our legs were about to be cemented into the sitting position forever and because WE WERE FREAKIN' TIRED OF THE SMALL SPACE!! No. Not at all.
Laura and I clambered up this rock in the Garden of the Gods, (we were completely graceful climbing it, don't you know,) and then dropped the camera to an innocent passerby we flagged down to take the picture. (Yes, I said dropped the camera... so, maybe we weren't graceful or smart.)
This was the most delicious chocolate in the whole world. I'm never desecrating my mouth with common chocolate again. Okay, I lied. I will desecrate my mouth with common chocolate at every possible occasion. Because, really, no chocolate is common. (deep thought there, huh?)
Espresso burgers? Seriously?
The San Miguel Mission - oldest church in America and very beautiful.
Doesn't that look like fun? Aren't you proud of Laura for letting the boys risk life and limb for a cool picture?

See that little bitty thing waaay off in the distance? That's yours truly, and let me tell you, I nearly broke my neck running over there while Laura stayed put to take the picture, because "ohmyword wouldn't that be an awesome picture?!" And it was.



I'm so glad fashions have changed. 'cause that is just ugly.



I hate self portraits. They never turn out well. But here we are, all the same. (We were hiking the trail up to Pike's Peak. And let me tell you, it was UP big time. We only made it about a mile.)



p.s. If thou dost so desire, the third picture from the bottom is much, much more awesome if you click on it. It gets bigger. Advanced technology, huh?

East, West, Home is Best!

~From my recent excursion into the wild blue yonder~

1. Gas station coffee is never, ever a good idea.
2. Laura gets really hyper and excited when she consumes her first sugar in three months.
3. Amarillo by morning is overrated.
4. Wilderado is a town? Is there a Tamerado?
5. All the trees in Texas look permanently windblown and sickly.
6. New Mexico? Yeah, I would totally move there just for the gorgeous clouds.
7. Sticking your head out of the sunroof at 80 m.p.h. results in really tangled hair.
8. Spanish rap should never have been invented. Period. End of story.
9. I looove Santa Fe, and mostly I love all the shopping in Santa Fe.
10. Flattery has never ceased to ring my bell. "Oh, Mr. Jewelry Seller, you think these earrings look beautiful with my hair? Okay, I'll take them!"
11. Trey gets ridiculously excited about roughing it for five days in the cold mountains and trying to slay happy elk who probably have nice families.
12. Yep. I do love the mountains.
13. There is a really good reason Garden of the Gods is called Garden of the Gods. It's amazing.
14. If you hide in a large wardrobe and jump out at Laura as she walks by, she will scream and howl and come really close to passing out and killing you at the same time.
15. If I lived in Kansas, I would welcome a tornado to blow me away to Oz.
16. I hate the smell of public restroom soap. It smells strong and chemically and gross.
17. Actually, I hate public restrooms altogether.
18. Brushing teeth in a gas station bathroom is a blast. A dirty blast.
19. Traveling is wonderful.
20. But home is more wonderful still.

WHERE ARE MY RUBY SLIPPERS?

I miss my home. I miss my mama. I miss my bed.






But I'm having fun.

Farewell, dear home o' mine!

Okay. That sounded really depressing. Farewell? What, is this the spot in the tearjerker where she gets in the car and sorrowfully prepares to leave the home of her youth forever and ever? Home of her youth? Yeah. I'm way too familiar with cheesy, sentimental jargon.


Let's try again.

"Let us not say farewell, but as the French have it, au revoir!"
-Mr. Wickham

Ohmygoodness. I surely did not just quote that cad. Sorry.

They don't make 'em like Charlton Heston anymore.

If I were a movie producer, and I was making a movie out of a story where the brave, wonderful hero dies early, I would change the end.

I would end it magnificently and happily, then put a little *note - he actually died* after the final scene.

That's what I would do.




I didn't want El Cid to die. But at least he died nobly and bravely and wonderfully. "And thus, El Cid rode out of the gates of history and into legend."

Three Days Until...

Okay. Can I just say something?

Oh, yeah. It's my blog, so I can.

Anyhow, here goes.

I love road trips. As in, really, really looove them. There's sleeping in the car, (and getting a ridiculously painful crick in the neck,) eating candy with total abandon, (I don't know why it seems not so bad to eat pounds and pounds of sweets when you're traveling, but somehow it doesn't,) reading that book you've been meaning to for a long time, (in this case the biography of Martin Lloyd Jones,) watching the new landscapes flash by your window, and being able to talk without interruption to the people traveling with you, (well, except when you're traveling with children, and then you're interrupted every three minutes and you can't say "ok, that's it! Go outside right this minute!" because that would kill them. But, that's what laptops are for. "Hey, kids! who wants to watch another cartoon?")

And guess what?

I'm about to go on the mother of all road trips.

Eighteen hours from Mississippi to Santa Fe, baby! Oh, yeah!

Just wait. It gets better.

I'm going on this Goliath road trip with some of my favorite people: Laura, Trey, Lee, and Ben, and we are going to have a blast.

Yes, I'm super duper excited about seeing Colorado and New Mexico for the first time ever, and I can't wait to drive through the mountains and see the Fall colors on all the aspens, and explore Santa Fe, (plus, our hotel in Santa Fe shares a parking lot with an outlet mall. How cool is that?)

But I'm especially excited about the trip there. I'm going to finish knitting the scarf I started last December, and I'm going to read the Hobbit out loud to the boys, just like Daddy and Mama read it out loud to me. I'm going to watch their eyes light up when Bilbo and the dwarves escape from the goblins, and watch them shiver in fear when Smaug in all his splendid terribleness destroys Lake Town.

Uh, huh, there are definite downsides to long road trips. Big downsides. But you know what? I'm not going to write about them right now. Because I'm all about accentuating the positive.

The Journey

If you're looking for something to read, go here.

I found this girl's blog about six months ago and have been blessed by her love for Christ and the beautiful work she's doing in Uganda. She has adopted 14 girls, and her blog, The Journey, is their ongoing story.

Some of the most recent posts won't make much sense if you don't go back a little ways, but I encourage you to do so.

John 3:17

What's John 3:17? Wait, there is a John 3:17? Oh. I thought John 3 ended with verse 16.

John 3:16 gets quoted a lot, and rightly so. It's an amazing verse, although it probably is misapplied sometimes.

But yesterday I was reading John 3, and it was the 17th verse that grabbed my attention. It reads:

"For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through Him might be saved."

Just think about that for a minute. Christ Jesus had every reason to condemn the world. We are twisted and sinful and dirty, and He is holy and pure and perfect. There is absolutely nothing in us that would make Him love us enough to save us. Just the opposite, in fact. By our very nature we are His enemies, turned against Him, hating Him, not wanting anything to do with Him.

Yet. (What an amazing word "yet" is!) Yet, God the Father sent Christ to earth, and Christ gladly obeyed, not to condemn as we deserve, but to save us. Save us from sin and self and hell, and bring us into the family of God as beloved children.

I want to remember this all the time. Because, if I really, truly live on the knowledge that Christ has saved me and loved me instead of rightly condemning me, I will be different. Different in how I talk, different in how I think, different in how I love. How could I not? How could you not?