I think I should just start my own earpiercing business.

There is a strange and twisted rumor drifting around that I pierced my friend Eleanor's ears with a knitting needle.

Seriously, people?

A knitting needle?

Have you met one of those huge, blunt, thick creatures?

Scratch that. Have you met me? Me who could never, ever, ever possibly - by any stretch of the imagination - shove a knitting needle through anybody's ear without passing out into a crumpled heap of nothingness. It was hard enough to do it with a darning needle, because you would not even believe how tough ear skin is. I guess I'm glad we have thick skin which is not easily pierced by needles, but it's rather inconvenient when one's goal is to create a nice round hole in said skin.

Eleanor wrote about this harrowing, (and hilarious, I assure you,) experience here. I can testify that she isn't exaggerating as much as you will think she is.

I'll also say that when we tried putting a potato behind her ear, we didn't realize that you were supposed to cut the potato in half. Yeah. We tried holding a whole, cumbersome potato behind Ellie's petite earlobe. So maybe we're not the most brilliant girls ever.

But hey, Ellie's ear is still firmly attached to her face, and she wears earrings all the time. Those two facts are really all that count.

And someday, we'll sit around when we're ancient and toothless and croak out the story to our grandchildren, who will roll their eyes and say, "We've heard that story five hundred times, Grandmother!" (except neither of us intend to be called grandmother.) And we'll say, "You haven't heard it five hundred times! In our day, children never exaggerated, no not one bit."

I'm really looking forward to that precious occasion.

"I have gathered a posie of other men’s flowers, and nothing but the thread that binds them is mine own." -- John Bartlett

I love quotes, be they funny, profound, or simply beautiful.

Like, I really, really love them.

Sometimes they make me misty eyed, sometimes I laugh out loud, and often I want to jump up and down, saying "yes! this person knows exactly how I feel and he says it so much better than I ever could!"

(Okay, who am I fooling? I don't just want to jump up and down. I often do jump up and down. That's who I am.)

Quotes are extremely versatile, which is probably why I like them so much. They're unpredictable, just like the people who say them. They don't fit a certain mold. People say anything and everything, and thanks to books, movies, the internet, and the people in our lives, we have delightful access to as many as we could ever want.



"Sometimes I think the surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere is that they haven't tried to contact us." - Bill Watterson

I say amen to that. Maybe they don't have politics wherever they are. Can I come live with y'all? Please?

"If God can make His birds to whistle in drenched and stormy darkness, if He can make His butterflies to bear up under rain, what can He not do for the heart that trusts Him?" - Amy Carmichael

It's such an encouraging thought. And sometimes I find myself thinking about trust only in relationship to "big things" - major decisions, major trials - but that isn't the case, is it? Trust applies to day-to-day, less-than-perfect situations... and just to life in general. We have a wonderful heavenly Father. We have been commanded to trust Him. Why on earth wouldn't I, when He who makes the birds to whistle no matter what, and causes the butterflies' wings not to break under the onslaught of heavy rains, is the One in whom I am trusting?

Anna: "What did you eat for lunch, Phoebe?"
Phoebe: "Chips."
Anna: "Did you eat anything healthy?"
Phoebe: "I had a cherry."

A whole cherry? Wow, that's enough healthy food for at least a week.

“And what's romance? Usually, a nice little tale where you have everything as you like it, where rain never wets your jacket and gnats never bite your nose, and it's always daisy-time.” -D.H. Lawrence

To me, this hilariously sums up the Hollywood portrayal of love. Everything is perfect. It's always daisy time. Well, it ain't.

"We are not simply called to be moral; we are called to be holy." -Martyn Lloyd-Jones

Anybody can be moral, from the biggest atheist or deist, to the best Muslim or Hindu. But holy? Now, that's another story. You can't manufacture true holiness, and you sure can't be a true Christian without a yearning for and striving after it.

"I don't like stepping on bugs." -Me

Oh, Katie, how inspiring! How deep! How very thought provoking!

"D'ya think beautiful girls are gonna stay in style forever?
I should say not! Any minute now they're gonna be out.
Finished! Then it'll be my turn." -Funny Girl, (as taken from Kathryn G.'s fb page)

This is my new mantra. Any minute beautiful girls will be out of style.

"Breathing is overrated." -a ditz I happen to know

Oh, yeah? Well, why don't you try to go with out it for a while and see if that's true, sweetie. I have a sneaking suspicion you'll find it isn't.

"Shakespeare was a great poet. He copied life. But you have to put up with a great deal of low talk." -Sarah Orne Jewitt


In a nutshell, that's exactly how I feel about Shakespeare.

"She is too fond of reading, and it has addled her brain." -Louisa May Alcott

A friend gave this quote to me, I asked if it was a hint, and she laughed in my face. I took that as a yes.


Speaking of reading, how's this for insight:

"A well-read people are easy to lead, but difficult to drive; easy to govern, but difficult to enslave." -Baron Henry Brougham


"If A equals success, then the formula is: A = X + Y + Z, where X is work, Y is play, and Z is keep your mouth shut." ~Albert Einstein

I need to keep my mouth shut more. And not just so I can have success.


After reading the A.A. Milne quote at the bottom of my page:

"Well, I like a little bread to my butter." -Mama


And finally, a quote which has never ceased to charm me, because, deep in the depths of my being, I want to believe in fairies. I don't. Practicality wins out. But I really want them to exist.

So there.

"When the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies." -J.M. Barrie

remind me not to ever follow you.

Julia: "Don't ask me for directions. I got lost coming home from Wal-Mart the other day."

you might not want to waste your brain cells on this one.

Today feels like a List sort of day. Don't you have those sometimes? You know, where things just seem to fall into nice, well defined rows, whether they be good, bad, or just plain boring.

With no further ado...

1. I can hold an inordinate amount of spit in my mouth for forty five minutes.

2. You really don't want to know how I know that for sure. And I sure don't intend to tell you.

3. Fingernail polish makes me happy. It makes everything I do with my hands a little bit more fun... even cleaning the bathroom and changing diapers. No, really! It does!

4. I'd like to say that I got up at sunrise and cleaned house and did lots of Useful Things before breakfast, but that would be a lie.

5. About a week ago, I made homemade french bread. The recipe said to let it rise for an hour. Four hours later, it hadn't budged an inch. To say that after baking it was dense enough to kill a dog if wielded with the right force would be an understatement.

6. Apparently, when the recipe says "hot water" it means "pretty warm water" not "straight-out-of-the-kettle boiling water." Really hot water kills the yeast. (stop laughing at me, sis. diane.)

7. I'm very grateful for Kroger's invaluable service to mankind through their bread making industry.

8. Gelato. is. amazing. How will I ever be content with plain ole' hum drum icecream again?

9. I'm growing my bangs out, slowly but surely. Whoever invented bangs in the first place I would gladly banish to the bottom of the sea right about now.

10. Don't get me wrong, I like bangs.

11. They just hate you for growing them back out and punish you by making life miserable where hair is concerned.

12. From Fiddler on the Roof: Tzeitel: "But Mama, the men our matchmaker finds! The last one was so old and he was bald. He had no hair."
Golde: "A poor girl without a dowry can't be so particular. You want hair, marry a monkey."

I'm going to say that from now on to any girl who complains about a boy's obvious propensity to lose hair. "You want hair, marry a monkey!"

13. Although personally, I like a good head of hair on my man.

Ummm...

my future man.

14. If y'all are wishing this list would shrivel up into dust and go back from whence it came, you have my full permission to stop reading. I ain't done yet.

15. One more Fiddler on the Roof quote: Tzietel: "But even a poor girl has to look at her husband sometime!" Golde: "A husband is not to look at, a husband is to get!"

I'm really glad she's not my mother.

And that I don't live in the early nineteen hundreds, or in any time, when they had horrid arranged marriages. Ugh.

16. I love geraniums. More than roses. So there.

17. Caroline is coming tonight, and I'm Quite Excited. Of course we'll be in bed and fast asleep by 9:00 every night. Ha.



18. She might not love this picture of herself. But it's so cute that I'm putting it up anyway. Incidentally, she's really good at making homemade popcorn balls.

19. I'm going to end this interestingly boring and totally random list on an odd number. Deal with it.

bibidi bobity boo!

As you probably realized as soon as the page loaded, (unless you're blind, in which case you wouldn't be coming here anyway,) the surprise to which I referred a little while ago is here.

And being the sentimental person that I am, I kinda miss the old look. But in spite of sundry misgivings which usually accompany change, I do like new things. They make me feel inspired. Fresher. Out-of-my-comfort-zone in a good way.

Change can be broadening, you know? Even in small ways like painting a room or framing a new picture or getting a new box of stationary, or re-designing the place where you rant and tell stories and share useless information or special quotes, it can be a pleasant thing.

Ergo, I like change.

Sometimes.

Occasionally.

Okay, not super often.

But in this case, I like it very much.





p.s. Ellie, I could never, ever have done it without you. No kidding. I'm so stupid when it comes to technology. Thanks, gal.

"Do you think he plans it all out, or just makes it all up as he goes?"

There's a lot of negative comments that could be, (and have been,) made about the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, or as Mama likes to call them, "those heathen movies."

Now, personally, I really enjoy them. The scenery, the amazing music, Johnny Depp, the adventures, the abrupt plot twists, and just the whole pirate aura make Pirates, especially the first one, high on my favorites list.

But whether you intensely love POTC or despise it with a burning hatred, you have to admit that whoever wrote the dialogue is brilliant. I think the movies probably surpass even Princess Bride in the awesome quotes department.

So, here are a few of my favorites.

Will Turner: "Where's Elizabeth?"
Jack Sparrow: "She's safe, just like I promised. She's all set to marry Norrington, just like she promised. And you get to die for her, just like you promised. So we're all men of our word really... except for, of course, Elizabeth, who is in fact, a woman."

"Were I in a divulgatory mood, what would I be divulging?" -Jack Sparrow

Jack Sparrow: "One question about your business, boy, or there's no use going: This girl... how far are you willing to go to save her?"
Will Turner: (vehemently) "I'd die for her."
Jack Sparrow: "Oh good. No worries then."

"I think we've all arrived at a very special place. Spiritually, ecumenically, grammatically." -Jack Sparrow

(I think that one is my very favorite of all.)

"Me, I'm dishonest. And a dishonest man you can always trust to be dishonest. Honestly, it's the honest ones you want to watch out for, because you can never predict when they're going to do something incredibly stupid." -Jack Sparrow

Jack: "Why not? We are very much alike you and I. I and you. Us."
Elizabeth: "Except for a sense of honor and decency and a moral center. And personal hygiene."

Captain Jocard: "Who is this traitor?"
Barbossa: "Not likely one among us."
Elizabeth: "Where's Will?"
Jack Sparrow: "Not among us."

"I don't have the face for tentacles." -Jack Sparrow

"If I might lend a machete to your intellectual thicket..." -Jack Sparrow

(I'm going to start saying that whenever possible, by the way.)

"The enemy has opted for oblivion." -Lord Beckett


Lord Beckett: "You're mad!"

Jack Sparrow: "Thank goodness for that, because otherwise this would probably never work."

We may have to start keeping a hoe by our bed. And using it with regularity.

Last night, as I peered under the bed to find something, I discovered that one of the sticky traps we keep there had captured, not one, but two, lizards.

In our bedroom.

Underneath our bed.

Two. Lizards.

Now, on one hand, I'm delighted that they were caught. Because I'm sure they had dark and evil purposes in mind, because they're oh-so-closely related to snakes, and all snakes are practically demons. Yes, they are. Don't dispute me. Lizards are okay outside - often they're even pretty - but inside? Uh, uh. I don't even think so.

But there's a downside to seeing them cold and stiff on the sticky trap. I like knowing they're caught, but actually seeing them there lets me know that they were there. And where some come, more very likely come. More that perhaps are smarter than their now-dead relatives and manage to avoid the sticky traps. Which means they scamper merrily underneath our bed. And perhaps climb up into the bed. Where we are innocently sleeping.

What if this is happening every night?

I mean, if there had only been one lizard! I would've thought, "oh, a stray lizard wandered through and just happened to come in our room and explore under our bed." That would not have been the best thought ever, but it would be a bushel basket better than seeing two, and thinking that this probably isn't a random occurrence. It may be normal for lizards to come into our room. And where lizards can come, sn...

sna...

snak...

...sorry, I can't even say the word, it's such a horrible thought.

*Those things* can come, too.

Do they make mosquito netting, except instead of keeping mosquitoes out, it's designed to keeps lizards and... their relatives... out? Because I'm not really feeling secure and relaxed cuddled up in my nice soft bed anymore, thinking about the unfortunate likelihood of sharing my nice soft bed with a cold, slimy, slithery creature.

Wow, I'll be getting some great rest tonight.

-a notice of Little Consequence-

Something is coming to this small sliver of the internet, and I can't tell you exactly when, and I'm not going to tell you exactly what, but I will tell you this: I'm excited about it.

There.

Now you can go scratch your head in befuddlement.

excuse me while I throw up.

Mama: "Boys, what do y'all want for a snack when we get home?"

Ethan: "SpaghettiOs and ice cream. Oh, and marshmallows!"

introducing... Nora Kathleen!

-adorable: check

-chubby cheeks: check, check

-cowlick: check

-pretty blue eyes: check

-totally kissable: check

-has KK wrapped around her tiny finger already: check



Oh, how I love my new niece. She's just darling.

And finally - FINALLY - I no longer hold the status of biggest baby born into our family. At 9lbs. 12oz., Nora has my 9lbs. 2oz. beat. It's with great joy that I pass that torch on to you, Nora Kate. Carry it with honor.

And only one of us is blond!

We got a call this morning from my bro, Joseph, who was on his way to the hospital with Andrea, who is in labor. (Nora Kathleen is here now! I'm so excited!)

So, mid-morning, Mama headed off to Memphis, leaving my sister-in-law, Karen, and me in charge of getting things ready for the fifty people who are coming tonight for our fourth of July cook out. Now, there weren't a lot of things to get ready - just stick the baked beans in the oven, make the homemade ice cream, and slice some tomatoes. Not a big deal, right?

Weeeelll....

I mixed up the ice cream, no problem. Stuck it in the ice cream freezer, shoveled a ton of ice in, added lots of rock salt, (Mama said to use half the box; by the end I had used it all. Sorry, Mama.) and let the freezer do its work.

But what seemed like only 20 minutes later, (in reality it was about 30,) the motor quit. Now, I don't know much about making ice cream. But I do know that when the motor quits, one of two things is true: the ice cream is done, or something is very wrong. Ice cream takes about 45 minutes to freeze, according to mama, so Karen and I felt totally sure it wasn't done. Ergo, something must be very wrong. We call Mama. She isn't much help. We unplug it, wait a minute, plug it back in. Nothing happens. We try turning the container ourselves, thinking it might be stuck. Nothing happens. We repeat the above about five times. We call Laura, who has never made ice cream either. Trey is grilling and can't come over. We take all the ice and salt out, put it into buckets, rearrange the container of ice cream liquid, add all the ice and salt again, cup by cup, and plug it in. Nothing happens.

"The motor must be bad," says I.

"Must be," says Karen.

"And that was Laura's motor, 'cause ours already gave out this summer," says I.

I called my cousin who lives right across the road. No, she doesn't have an ice cream maker. But she thinks her sister, my other cousin, who lives a little further down the road, might have one. I call her. It's in her attic. She'll get it.

Meanwhile, Karen puts the baked beans in the oven while I'm out of the room. She is a great cook, but has never cooked baked beans before, and Mama told her they were ready to go; so she stuck them right in.

Saran Wrap and all.

Oh, yes.

Five minutes later, I smell something really funky coming from the oven.

As I peel the melted, stinky plastic off the beans, I remember that Mamaw has an ice cream freezer. So, I get her motor, re-ajust the ice cream, plug it in.

Nothing.

Then, for the first time, we take the lid off.

Yeah. The ice cream is done.

Has been all along.

Love, True Love.

Daddy and Mama taught me what love looks like.

They met at Camp when she was thirteen and he was fifteen, and they became best friends long before they fell in love.

But fall in love they did.


Then, at the ripe old ages of 17 and 19, thirty-nine years ago today, they became one, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health. And I'm here to say that they kept those vows. Kept them beautifully, and in such a way as to be an inspiration and blessing to everyone around them, especially us kids.


About a year after they married, Daddy was drafted, and they moved to Germany for two years. On the weekends they'd head off all over Europe in a little volkswagon, carrying picnics along with them to save money and camping wherever they could, including the grounds of an old castle in England. My oldest brother was born in Germany, and Mama likes to tell that he teethed on the gate at Buckingham Palace and dropped his pacifier off the Eiffel Tower.


They moved back to America a little before Anna was born, and for the next several years Daddy pastored various small churches... with Mama right along side of him, encouraging Daddy, ministering to the congregations, and raising four rambunctious children. (AnnMarie and I came a good many years later; in a sense, Mama and Daddy had two families, eleven years apart.)


Finally, they came home to Mississippi, (to my Mamaw's great delight, and theirs' too,) and Daddy helped start a little church. Eventually, Daddy began a tiny Christian school, and worked as principal and primary teacher for many years. Mama was a big part of that, too - not only did she get her oldest three kids out the door every morning, she also mothered most of the school kids too, since the school building was just a few steps away from our house. She even went so far as to teach algebra when the need arose, even though Daddy had to teach her the next day's lesson every night. (I get my non-existent math skills from my mama.)


My point is, through it all - through financial worries and rebellious teenagers, through their childrens' births to their childrens' weddings, to holding grandchildren, from often-complicated church situations to teething babies, from a special needs daughter to losing people they held so dear - they were in it together. Always together. They laughed, they cried, they struggled, they had fun, they matured, they served the Lord together.

I watched their love grow stronger and stronger through weeks of cancer, chemo, uncertainty, fear, and pain. They never stopped thinking and praying and trying to care for each other's hurts and difficulties, emotional and physical, even when Daddy was at his sickest.

And their love isn't dead now. When Mama talks about Daddy, I can still hear the love in her voice. When she looks at his picture, that love is still there. And I absolutely don't believe that Daddy's love for his soul mate ended when he went to live in Paradise.

I want to have a love like that for someone someday.

And I'm so grateful that I got to see true love, not the cheap Hollywood version, lived out before me every day of my life.

it's just how my mind works, okay?

Today, I was vacuuming. (I don't like vacuuming as well as I like sweeping; it's anti-climatic to not see the fruits of your efforts in a nice, nasty pile, but I still derive some satisfaction from it.)

Anyway, in a particularly dark and dusty corner of the dining room, the vacuum sucked up a dead cricket, which I wouldn't have found worthy of any attention, except that three seconds later a large kernel of popcorn followed the cricket. And I couldn't help but immediately associate the cricket and popcorn with the ancient burial rituals of the Egyptians. You know, when they would fill the grave with food to theoretically help the dead person survive on his journey to the afterlife? (Yeah, that philosophy is just jam packed with irony, but apparently it made tons of sense to them.)

So, if I was an ancient Egyptian, that's what I would've been doing to the cricket. Sending it sustenance in the form of a stale popcorn kernel to make its journey to the vacuum bag happy and hunger-free.

Yes, that's the kind of things I think about while vacuuming.

Why, yes, I am a homeschooler. How on earth did you guess?