It is definitely NOT Tuesday. It is Monday again.

I woke up an hour late to find a super sexy fever blister on my face. I arrived to work to a computer that was locked and all of our IT people were out for the morning. I realized that I still have 13 people to shop for on my Christmas list and only one night to complete the task. I sat on hold with the pharmacy for 41 minutes to be hung up on and then 30 min later be told that my prescription cannot be filled. The meeting I have been preparing for for days, was canceled 30 minutes before I was scheduled to leave. I just confirmed attending a Christmas party tomorrow night that I forgot about until the call came in for the head count. Ahhhh!!!

Its the most wonderful time of the year...

Louisiana…It is 76 degrees in December and I’m hobbling down Magazine Street with a broken foot in a boot and Chloe. I have a list, but one of mostly just names without any ideas beside them. We parked on an end where I have not shopped before and it was a haven for children's toys, and while a tad overpriced, very unique kids gifts. Somewhere between the “bubble gum factory” and the “Make your own Tutu” kits I snagged, the lighted store fronts offered us a tiny gust of Christmas spirit. I finished over half of the “kid gift” shopping in about an hour and a half. The only problem is that now I have to shop for the adults. Regardless, I love Christmas and am fighting my usual tendency to go a little overboard. So in the spirit of the holiday and a minimalist approach to the art of finding the perfect gift; the one that screams at you instead of catches your eye as an afterthought, I am going to enjoy the shopping, decorating, baking and even my #1 on the “if you were on a desert island” drink-hot chocolate EVEN IF it is all while wearing mini dresses and sandals.

Attempt at Accountability

There was "Getting fine in 09," then "Staying Thin in 2010," now, after a broken foot and my last year of my masters degree... I've got 12 weeks to be beach ready.

Summer’s wedding is in 12 weeks…wedding as in El Dorado Royal Resort, bikinis and “flowy” tops and dresses that highlight any winter weight like a neon “SLOTS” sign at a truck stop. So, in light of looking my best I have a plan.

The Victoria’s “not much left of a” Secret Fashion show is tonight at 9. I made an excel sheet that is posted front and center in my office for my weight and measurements. Fake tanning lotion is on order and crest white strips are in tow.

I’m hoping that my pre wedding shopping will further encourage my weight loss/get fit plan. I already have a pair of shimmer shorts and a j crew linen top picked out that requires me to have slender limbs and a flat stomach.

So for the sake of a speedy jump into summer weight and accountability…no more tiramisu, fleur-di-lis pizza or…breathe…imported beer.

"Before" pic to come...eh.

What I don’t understand

I know what drink you order and how you like your poor boy dressed.
I know what school you went to and who you took to prom.

I know what you dream about and what you are scared of;
Who broke your heart and whose heart you broke.

What few deserts you eat and which veggies you eat cooked or raw.

I know the first thing you play every time you pick up your guitar and that you never change the strings on time.

I know the “go to” jokes that make you laugh and what teams you’re watching.

What I don’t understand, is why you don’t want to know these things about me.

I've been lonely before

He made me laugh, He made me cry
He smoked his stogies in bed
But I'm all right, I'm all right
I've been lonely before

I asked the boy for a few kind words
He gave me a novel instead
But I'm all right, I'm all right
I've been lonely before

Its fine, it's okay
It was wrong either way
I just wanted to say
There isn't much fun when you're drinking for one

He got drunk, he fell down
He threw a few of my things around
But I'm all right, I'm all right
I've been lonely before

I'd like to believe that it's easy to leave
But I have to conceive that wherever you are
You're still driving my car

Sticks and stones break my bones
But tears don't leave any scars
so I'm all alright, I'm all alright
I've been lonely before

He played solitaire in bed
Used to blow bubbles in bed
He sang Christmas songs in bed

Happy with Blisters

The weekend in Memphis left me with burning eyes, a bubbly stomach and yet another broken iphone.

Zoe’s 6th birthday was a success and I’m fairly certain I did a decent job of picking out the perfect gift of Zhu Zhu pets and accessories.

Ribs and Blues, Football and beer, go-carts and bumper cars, 90s dancing and Wet Willy’s, Peabody ducks, sleeping late, fine wine and unlimited pizza.

I honestly don’t know what else I could have accomplished in a three day period, but, I am grateful that I decided not to go to the LSU game.

my new love...

the paint sprayer

Rededicated

It wasn’t until I took a break from blogging, that I realized how many people read it. Honestly, the truth is, so much has happened that I have not had time to write.

Today I decided to rededicate my eating out funds. I spend about 10 bucks a day for lunch on average. Dinner is usually the same, or less since it is just me at home. But since a few things are changing in my life, I decided it was time for a financial change. I am half way through my “debt free” push, my house is under complete remodel and I’m sure I’ll be flying around the country more and more….so here I am….rededicated…staring at a bowl of tomato soup while Keycha is out having pizza and the break room is filled with Major Menu go-plates that smell like fried food.  I’m going to try and stay as positive as I can-after all; I do own a home, a car, and have 55 inches of free entertainment in my living room.

I'm trying to read my Bible as much as my sappy novels-which is proving to be more rewarding than even my new workout schedule.

The job hunt continues, as I am settling into a new spot at Wildlife and Fisheries, in an office FINALLY surrounded by people that I actually want to socialize with, yet I am completely unsettled. My final paper for summer school was submitted this morning marking the start of my LAST year of graduate school so I am not too discouraged. I know that with the degree comes more opportunity.

My health is a miracle, the Dr. even said so this morning and I am optimistic about the future my cervix and I have with Mr. Right.

I am missing friends and now is the season to get reconnected with them before the Fall takes over and leaves me swamped in school work. I am anxious about a football season without my “safe haven” group that I have tailgated with, but I’m sure it will be just as fun with my girls.

So, yes,

Nana-work and life are good, Kent DID move to Chicago,

Dad-Cheryl's baby is fine,

Lauren-I do want to share a pitcher,

Scott-please help me NOT leave for lunch,

and to answer the other 400 emails and facebook messages, with an acid reflux inducing slurp-

I’m back.

just a little change of perspective

Today I learned that people talk to themselves in “self-talk” anywhere from 150 to 300 words a minute.

So in the car, as hyper sensitive as I usually am, I’m thinking…

Turn here (1), not too sharp (2), keep my purse from falling over (3), put on your seatbelt (4), light, come on…, speed up, stupid driver, when does the produce stand open?, I wonder when my meeting starts, why does my phone die all the time, wash car, pick up library books…

I don’t know where the general public falls on self-talking, but I am definatly on the higher end of personal narrative numbers.

So, these thoughts have been following me through my day and I have realized that in light of my “don’t think less of yourself; but think of yourself less” theme-most of my soliloquies are focused on my “feelings.”

I feel tired; I feel out of shape, I wonder if I will ever FEEEEL like getting out of bed early. I love when I feel relaxed. I am feeling on top of the world…until I feel defeated.

So, in this realization I realized that while I have always known that people are their own worst critics…we also talk to ourselves like we would never think of speaking to someone else.

In my effort to not be judgmental and speak only positive or encouraging words-I forgot to consider how I speak to myself.

I FEEL conversations should be I AM conversations.

When I feel defeated, I AM a winner.

When I feel unattractive or out of shape, I AM created wonderfully.

When I feel afraid, I AM more than a conqueror.

For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. Ephesians 2:10

*

"You wish for something, you've wanted it for years, and you're sure you want it, as long as you know you can't have it. But if all at once it looks as though your wish might come true, you suddenly find yourself wishing you had never wished for any such thing."


— Michael Ende The Neverending Story

Brett Dennen...you did it again

Beyond the rules of religion

The cloth of conviction
Above all the competition
Where fact and fiction meet

There`s no color lines or casts or classes
There is no fooling the masses
Whatever faith you practice
Whatever you believe

Heaven. heaven.
What the hell is heaven?
Is there a home for the homeless?
Is there hope for the hopeless?

Throw away your myth misconceptions
There ain`t no walls around heaven
There are no codes you gotta know to get in
No minutemen or border patrol

You must lose all earthly possession
Leave behind your weapon
You cannot buy your salvation
There is no pot of gold

Heaven ain`t got no prisons
No government no business
No banks or politicians
No armies and no police

Castles and cathedrals crumble
Pyramids and pipelines tumble
The failure keeps you humble
Leads us closer to peace

Love is satisfied in God

The Lord will continually guide you, and satisfy your desire.  Isaiah 58:11

Your friend will cross the line and let a secret slip.

You will “never find” your spouse, or they will come home late.

Your family will always ask more than you can give them far past what feels like your last dime.

Your new outfit will go unnoticed and your efforts around the house.

You will expect too much and continually be let down.

I have realized that some of my demands are unreasonable, I am human.

It is hard to remember times when I was “anxious for nothing;” when prayer, supplication and thanksgiving were how I delivered my request to Him. I do remember peace…and vividly I remember it truly surpassing my understanding. 

No one can give me peace but God.

The things that I need in my life, only God can satisfy and I had forgotten this.

A friend, a confidant even a stranger can meet some of my needs-but only God can do it all.

I need love. I need acceptance and I need joy.

I have expected all of this to come from others so I have not depended on him.

I have laid down these needs and stuffed them right back in my heart to carry around with me.

My looks, health, friendships, intentions, affections and bank account will all change.

I have looked to all of these, and again, they have changed.

His faithfulness, His truth, and His promises to me will remain.

My only reason, once I remove the excuses, is that I have not trusted God to supply what I need.

While I am not the Samaritan woman at the well, I too have tried to meet needs through friendships and relationships and again and again am found broken standing with just an empty bucket.

Lately I don’t “feel like” much, but I have a feeling if I push forward and seek only him I will find myself right where I belong.

God is enough and always on time.

Sigh...

God doesn’t call the qualified, He qualifies the called.


I have been reading this over and over realizing that it is time for a change.

It is time to not just say what I want to do, but time to do it.

I have been putting question marks where God put a period.

So...Wow

Man comes out of the barber shop and says..."well, would you vote for him?"
-I dont see why not.

listen

I live fast and love hard.

I cry often and harder.

When will I get it right?

I want simple things:

to make music, art and laughter.

Today, I will start treating myself like I do others.

I will listen to my heart, comfort myself and encourage my impossible.

What I want...

I want to work from an office and from home.

I want to sing in musicals and write childrens books.

I want to listen to music everyday, except when it is raining.

I want to read my children books I have written and have them eat their favorite dessert in my resturant.

I want to teach them to not be scared to live.

Back to the middle

I am placed in two extremes
where I serve, or I am queen.
Where power is passed from you to me
or is held just out of reach.

I wake up knowing that you chose me,
then spend the day questioning when you will leave.
I brag about the "rock" that you have been,
and then left speechless reading the text you so quickly send.

One day I taste of the love you sing-
settle in the comfort that security brings...
And before the sun hides and the weight of the day is through,
you're see-sawing leaves me trying again to understand you.

You stand to help me when I climb,
and rejoice regardless of what I find.
And before you take my hand to guide me as I crawl,
you step away and ignore my fall.

In the sun, in the rain-floating high or unprecedented pain,
I am expected to accept my place,
Held first in your heart or fighting to keep pace.

I allowed you to become too powerful,
Trusting that you could handle a heart on a plate that was already full
So I will give you what you say you need,
as I take my place back in "the middle" of ME.

its contagious

They made a statue of us
And put it on a mountain top
Now tourists come and stare at us
Blow bubbles with their gum
Take photographs for fun, for fun

They'll name a city after us
And later say it's all our fault
Then they'll give us a talking to
Because they've got years of experience
We're living in a den of thieves
Rummaging for answers in the pages
We're living in a den of thieves
And it's contagious

We wear our scarves just like a noose
But not 'cause we want eternal sleep
And though our parts are slightly used
New ones are slave labor you can keep

We're living in a den of thieves
Rummaging for answers in the pages
We're living in a den of thieves
And it's contagious

They made a statue of us
The tourists come and stare at us
The sculptor's mama sends regards
They made a statue of us
Our noses have begun to rust
We're living in a den of thieves
Rummaging for answers in the pages
Were living in a den of thieves

And it's contagious

Web MD says drink fluids...

Runny Nose, Congestion, aching muscles, headache, earache, dizziness. Acute Sinusitis or influenza? hmm...

On our way home…

We drove 2 hours and I worked the entire way.

We helped over 50 Vietnamese complete applications.

We answered every single question.

I ordered a kids meal from Checkers, so I wouldn’t feel so guilty for eating fast food.

Everyone talked in the van, and I took my post in my “office” on the back seat just like every night before.

Exhaustion is not an option for any of us; we just have to keep going.

I can’t remember the last time I had a “girl’s night” or slept in on Saturday.

I didn’t look up from emails but I knew we had exited on College Drive from the Orange glow of the Hooters sign.

Suddenly we hit something hard, and I looked up as gasps filled the van and two or three “what was that’s?”

I turned instantly; behind us in the right lane of the road was a cat half crawling-half walking and its tail flailing violently.

I yelled at our driver to stop or turn around. I threw off my heels and dug in my purse for my gun, but it wasn’t there. I couldn’t remember if it was in my car or on my nightstand.

I was furious that not only was I without it, but I couldn’t force myself to remember where it was.

The van came to a stop and I told everyone not to look.

I ran. In familiar form, my weeks without running body began a slow sprint as I ran hard enough to get there but slow enough to leap over mud and water that would cause my bare feet to slip on the concrete sidewalk.

My breathing pattern set and I knew I had run about 300 yards before I reached it.

Still awake, eyes glassing over and making desperate attempts to move; I picked up the warm and flailing animal in its last moments of life.

I jogged along the fence line of the school, still not knowing what I was going to do, but knowing what I had to.

One hunk lay broken off from the overflow of concrete around a fence post and I reached for it wincing at what I was about to do.

“The quickest way…the quickest way…” I forced myself to process.

I covered his face and stretched his head gently away from his legs, lengthening his neck as much as possible.

Only one blow and I made it count because I knew I could never take a second.

I began to pray as the breath left his body and I cried.

I stood and felt a wave of nausea as I turned and fell into full sprint back to the van.

I flung the door open to four heads facing downward and said, “Let’s go, I don’t want to talk about it.”

I shook the entire ride home.

I could barely see the road when I began driving my own car home and kept trying to blink the blur away.

I cried.

I cried into Belle, in my bed, in my bath water.

It has been two days and I am still telling myself that it is okay to feel horrible, broken and even “wrong” when doing “the right thing.”

They say I am amazing, one of a kind…but,

I sing, play guitar, flute, piccolo, piano, violin, harmonica and banjo,
but none better than any average girl.

I love basketball, running, working out and know more about football than 90% of men I know,
but I can’t find a girl friend to do any of these things with.

I love to hunt, track, fish, hike, climb and swim
but give everyone else so much of my time that I seldom get to do much of any.

I would rather take a summer vacation to a mountain than the beach.

I can lay tile, float sheet rock, form concrete and build anything,
but I have never met a man that wanted to hand me the tools.

I love to write, listen and tell bedtime stories,
but have no one who feels the same way.

I could lie on a blanket and listen to the wind, a band or “people watch” for an entire weekend,
but everyone I know thinks this is boring or rude.

I don’t watch a single sitcom ritualistically and only have cable for ESPN, Discovery and the History Channel,
but can’t find a single movie that I have not seen.

I love to meet, talk and get to know every person I come in contact with,
but people say this behavior proves that I love myself.

I am neat, organized and efficient,
but have to battle to relax.

I love to dance to every song; alone, with friends, or strangers,
but I’m not that great.

I do not get nervous. In front of crowds when singing, speaking, praying or dancing
and I have a hard time understanding “social anxiety.”

I want to be a mother more than anything I have ever wanted and for as long as I can remember,
but my doctor doesn’t know if I can have children.

Before me

I am listening to music that he got from her.

He has nothing of hers and it makes me think of how many things I have given, left behind for the next girl to find.

She will need a bobby pin and I will have left it for her.

All I ever found was a cheap earring here or there, half used shampoo and random pictures.

I always wondered what women found behind me. What have I left behind?

Hair products, ticket stubs and birthday videos.

I have left memories and eventually, they will fade.

Whatever residence I held in someone’s heart, is either vacant or newly occupied.

How can I be “so different” and yet never “the one?”

I would love to think that I have not settled and I have not allowed anyone to do the same.

What about my Mr. Right? What have women left with him?

A standard for me to be compared to?

Memories of someone not as OCD, someone who drinks less or never gets jealous?

What I do know, is that I will never know what I have left behind.

 I just know that tonight I worked hard, the drive is long and looking out over the bayou makes me consider why God made me.

Cameron Parish behind me...

I am 104 miles away and the ride is dragging on,
The condensation rolling down from icy windows in a van that is too warm.
I am on the back seat like when I was young and "cool."
On the bus with cliques and couples riding home from public school.

The bumpy road and jarring teeth bring a familiar pain into my head,
and I'm wide awake in exhaustion as every other sleeps deeply in their temporary makeshift bed.
We have traveled across the entire state, in circles several times,
and yet we still have five or more before we've covered the "below I-10" line.

Guidelines, questions, Programs, exceptions my mind is racing still;
and I know that this speed will stick, as I'm only half way up the hill.

I'm learning-living, giving all that I have the power to give,
but I am growing weary; and life on fumes is no way to live.

"Really?"

I worked a few hours late Friday night and somewhere between my eyes blurring and sighs of exhaustion, I decided it was time for a break. I needed to go somewhere, anywhere, just to get away. I ran in Hobby Lobby to get some decorating ideas for my sister’s baby shower and Easter was painted everywhere. I was tired, running out of ideas and starving and then one of those “really?” moments hit me.

I have asked every single “boyfriend” and “friend-boy” to get me a hollow chocolate bunny for Easter so we could bite off his ear and drink milk out of him together.

Last year makes the seventh year that this didn’t happen. It had even become a joke with one guy that I dated for years. I finally broke down and bought myself one while shopping WITH a guy. But really, I don’t demand jewelry, dozens of roses-I hate all of that crap...but is a Palmers hollow chocolate Easter bunny and a little QT too much to ask for?

So, this year, and from here on out…I plan to buy myself the first one I come across, so I am not tempted to ask, therefore in-turn…will not be let down. Thanks guys.

...

"Either this man was, and is, the Son of God: or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronising nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to." - C.S. Lewis

True Strength

"If you want to know what the world really thinks about you, just start living out of your true strength. Say what you think, stand up for the underdog, challenge foolish policies. ... The world of posers is shaken by a real man. They'll do whatever it takes to get you back in line---threaten you, bribe you, seduce you, undermind you. They crucified Jesus. But it didn't work, did it? You must let your strength show up. ... Many of us have actually been afraid to let our strength show up because the world doesn't have a place for it. Fine. The world's screwed up. Let people feel the weight of who you are and let them deal with it." - John Eldridge

for the annual commemoration during Holy Week of the Death and Resurrection of Jesus

In this period of the liturgical year leading up to Easter, or formerly Christmas before the term Advent was officially recognized, I am taking the opportunity to prepare myself through prayer, penitence, almsgiving and self-denial.
So as Jesus in the desert before the beginning of his public ministry where he endured temptation by Satan that I will never fully grasp, I am committing myself to 40 days.

What Religion is Your Bra?

Omer walked into the ladies department of a Macy's and shyly walked up to the woman behind the counter and said, "I'd like to buy a bra for my wife, Anne-Mae."
"What type of bra?" asked the clerk.

"Type?" inquires Omer, "There's more than one type?"

"Look around," said the saleslady, as she showed a sea of bras in every shape, size, color and material imaginable.

"Actually, even with all of this variety, there are really only four types of bras to choose."

Relieved, Omer asked about the types. The saleslady replied:

"There are the Catholic, the Salvation Army, the Presbyterian, and the Baptist types. Which one would you prefer?"
Now totally befuddled, Omer asked about the differences between them.

The Saleslady responded, "It is all really quite simple... "

The Catholic type supports the masses.
The Salvation Army type lifts the fallen,
The Presbyterian type keeps them staunch and upright, and
The Baptist makes mountains out of mole hills.

Have you ever wondered why A, B, C, D, DD, E, F, G, and H are the letters used to define bra sizes?
If you have wondered why, but couldn't figure out what the letters stood for, it is about time you became informed!

(A} Almost Boobs...
{B} Barely there.
{C} Can't Complain!
{D} Dang!
{DD} Double dang!
{E} Enormous!
{F} Fake.
{G} Get a Reduction.
{H} Help, I've fallen and I can't get up!

Only held by gravity, faded with uncertainty

It is the 15th,
The day we kissed and ended it.

Why are most songs about love and loss?
Music is where we met most and now I avoid the radio.

We were friendship set on fire
and I have a feeling you have not even noticed what I left behind.

You never get your old skin back,
Once you have loved like that.

Turns out lying is what I’m best at.
In bed, on the floor and in wait.

I am now one of the girls that “came before”
I opened my soul and am no more.

All I wanted was everything,
and until I gave up, you wouldn’t surrender.

Did it happen, were we there?
Sleeping late and fighting

I don’t want to cry if you are better off without me
And I won’t ever know, because you’ve never been a talker.

I battled for your attention
But you will find her, and all will change

I am taking the boxes of before and leaving them outside,
Too many hearts to carry any more, I need all the strength I have to carry me now.

From the smartest man I know, with the driest sense of humor

Nothing in life that is worthwhile is easy. Nothing.
Destiny is not a matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not wished for. It is achieved.

Persistence is the common trait of all successes. Giving up is the common trait of all failures.

You only have to be this much smarter ( ll ) than the average man to be succesful.

When you are satisfied be very wary. Satisfaction is the first step towards average. Everyone is average. You aren't.

You appear to be working with average to below average men. Learn all you can about what not to do.

These pretzels are making me thirsty.

Obama is the anti-christ.

I'm walking at least 9 today. Maybe 18 if it gets warmer than 45.

You're the smartest guy down there. Make sure everyone sees it without you saying it. I think they all know it already.

I hit a Sonny Bono yesterday with my driver. Straight into the trees.

Hit a JFK Jr. on # 15. Didn't make it over the water.

Being dissapointed means you're on the right track. Nothing in life that is worthwhile is easy. Nothing.

I could go on all day but I won't. You'd just get bored. Just one more.

It is not silence that is golden. Tact is golden. Silence will, and has, destroyed nations and individuals.



The Drake

Wow...

Never say Never....

So...Chloe drags us to see a hypnotist at the Funny Bone. I obviously post up in my usual fashion and order a bucket of ultra. As my speculation and judgment begins, the guy starts cracking jokes…pretty soon, I am having fun, and before I know it he is calling up audience members to volunteer to “go under.” Well, obviously I am NOT going up there because I think this is all crap. He starts telling them how to breath and relax…in this monotone professor type voice and before I know it, I wake up to Chloe laughing because I have apparently fallen asleep sitting up and banged my head on the table. So, whether legit or Jedi mind tricks…I am NEVER going to see a hypnotist again.

your smell

I wish that I could bottle up your smell
From behind your ears, and never tell.
I would pull if from your chin and neck
when you were sleeping and would not suspect.

I wish I could steal away your smell,
from the air you breath in the one nostril where-
you whistle at night and sigh and snore
and your nose would need not attract me any more

I want to take from your chest your smell,
Where there is only warmth, and no hair
I would sweep it all down to your belly button
and draw it out and leave it nothing.

And when you’ve tossed your clothes aside
And you jump in the shower, ill be outside
Waiting to capture all the scent left there
From your hoodie and jeans till they were bare

Then unsuspecting you would towel off,
brush your teeth-search for matching socks;
you would never guess that I would be
In the shower stealing all the smell you left me

And as always, we would seize the day
and I’d hide my bottle-so you couldn’t take it away
And I’d take care not to let it drop,
or slip and fall and loosen the top.

And dinner and singing and laughing would come
as sighs and yawns fall from our tongues;
and as we find ourselves drifting to sleep,
I’d bottle up your last breath,
as you whisper that you love me

Buckslayer

my last deer of this season...(ahemmm 200 yards and dropped him...) I guess I (sniff*) got a pretty good shot off.

Words cannot describe

As some of you know, I am using my recent fender bender as an excuse to get a new car. Well, its "my" car...but newer. I ordered a 2010 2 door altima coupe that i plan to "hood out" even more than my current one. Currently I am in a base model Toyota Corolla so God bless Enterprise...but, aside from my new little coupe or the someday possibility of an infinity or 2 door beamer-this would be first on my list.

Creation Calls

I have felt the wind blow,
Whispering your name
I have seen your tears fall,
When I watch the rain.

How could I say there is no God?
When all around creation calls!
A singing bird, a mighty tree,
The vast expanse of open sea

Gazing at a bird in flight,
Soaring through the air.
Lying down beneath the stars,
I feel your presence there.


I love to stand at ocean shore
And feel the thundering breakers roar,
To walk through golden fields of grain
With endless bloom horizons fray.

Listening to a river run,
Watering the Earth.
Fragrance of a rose in bloom,
A newborns cry at birth.

I love to stand at ocean shore
And feel the thundering breakers roar,
To walk through golden fields of grain
With endless bloom horizons fray

I believe just like a child

I believe

7:50 am...liquid breakfast after a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week.

Too legit...Too legit to quit

Shhhh....

So, i have decided to post secrets about myself in attempt to bring my secretive, shady life to an "open

book."I am obsessed with pretending to pick my nose in public.

 

I make snoring sounds when I am not interested in what someone is saying, and somehow think that this is less offensive then just asking them to shut up.

I snarl at boys that hit on me, smirk at guys to shy to, and turn my head away completely when I think a guy is attractive.

Roots, rock, raggae...

Hey Mister Music, sure sounds good to me
I can't refuse it, what to be got to be
Feel like dancing, dance cause we are free
Feel like dancing, come dance with me

You were there

In the softness of my sheets and in the dryness of the air

In the half full glass of water and last night’s left-over hair.

On the pillow right behind me and the sunshine through the shades-
In the stillness of my breath at the start of my day.

In the warmth of my heart as I am humbled by your choice
In the sigh on my lips at the sound of your voice.

I walked, I jumped, and I leapt and fell,
But not without you; you were there.

Dear Miami,

The Saints are coming. And so are we, their loyal, long-suffering and slightly discombobulated Super Bowl-bound fans. While there's still time to prepare -- although a few hard-core Who Dats will begin trickling in Monday, most of us won't arrive until Thursday or Friday -- we thought we'd give you a heads-up about what you
should expect.

First things first: You need more beer.
Yeah, we know. You ordered extra. You think you have more than any group of humans could possibly consume in one week. Trust us. You don't.
New Orleans was a drinking town long before the Saints drove us to drink. But it turns out beer tastes better when you're winning. (Who knew?) So let's just say we're thirsty for more than a championship; adjust your stockpiles accordingly.

And look. When we ask you for a go-cup, be nice to us. We don't even know what "open container law" means. Is that anything like "last call"?
It's Carnival season in New Orleans (that's Mardi Gras to you), and we'll be taking the celebration on the road. So don't be startled if you walk past us and we throw stuff at you; that's just our way of saying
hello.

Oh, and sorry in advance about those beads we leave dangling from your palm trees. We just can't help ourselves.

February is also crawfish season, and you can be sure that more than one enterprising tailgater will figure out a way to transport a couple sacks of live mudbugs and a boiling pot to Miami.
When the dude in the 'Who Dat' T-shirt asks if you want to suck da head and pinch da tail, resist the urge to punch him. He's not propositioning you. He's inviting you to dinner.

And if you see a big Cajun guy who looks exactly like an old Saints quarterback walking around town in a dress ... don't ask. It's a long story.

We know that crowd control is a major concern for any Super Bowl host city. Our advice? Put away the riot gear.

Reason No. 1: Indianapolis is going to lose, and their fans are way too dull to start a riot.

Reason No. 2: New Orleans showed the world on Sunday that we know how to throw a victory party. We don't burn cars. We dance on them.

Reason No. 3: Even if we did lose, which we won't, leaving the stadium would be like leaving a funeral, and our typical response to that is to have a parade.
Speaking of which: If you happen to see a brass band roll by, followed by a line of folks waving their handkerchiefs, you're not supposed to just stand there and watch. As our own Irma Thomas would say, get your backfield in motion.

And hey, Mister DJ! Yes, we know you've already played that stupid Ying Yang Twins song 10 times tonight, but indulge us just one more time.To us, "Halftime (Stand Up and Get Crunk)" isn't just a song; it's 576 points of good memories. It's the sound of a Drew Brees touchdown pass to Devery Henderson, a Pierre Thomas dive for first down on 4th-and-1, a Garrett Hartley field goal sailing through the uprights in overtime.It's what a championship sounds like. You may get sick of hearing it. We won't. Encore, dammit.
 Inside Sun Life Stadium, you may find your ears ringing more than usual. We're louder than other fans. Seven thousand of ours sound like70,000 of theirs.

Don't believe us? Ask the 12th man in the Vikings huddle. Some people think it's just the Dome that heightens our volume. But you're about to discover a little secret: We can scream loud enough to make your head explode, indoors or out. It's not the roof. It's the heart.

Well, OK, and the beer.Don't be surprised if there are more Saints fans outside the stadium than inside. A lot of us are coming just to say we were part of history,even if we can't witness it up close. The Saints are family to us, and you know how it is with family: We want to be there for them, whether
they really need us or not. Because we know our presence will mean something to them, whether they can see us or not.Come to think of it, seeing as how you're taking us in for the week, we pretty much regard you as family, too. So we're warning you now: If you're within hugging distance, you're fair game.
Hugging strangers is a proud Who Dat tradition, right up there with crying when we win.

Most sports fans cry when their teams lose. Not us. We've been losing gracefully and with good humor for 43 years. Tragedy and disappointment don't faze us. It's success that makes us go to pieces.
Hurricane Katrina? We got that under control. The Saints in the Super Bowl? SOMEBODY CALL A PARAMEDIC!!!So anyway, don't let the tears of joy freak you out. We're just ...disoriented.

OK. Let's review:
Order more beer. Throw me something, mister. Suck da heads. Wear da dress. Stand up. Get crunk. Hug it out. Protect your eardrums. Pass the Kleenex. Hoist the trophy.See you at the victory party.

Faithfully yours,

The Who Dat Nation

After a long vaca in Tupelo and a bubble wrapped cruise...Little D made it home.

In my office, in my purse, in the mirror...

I have written about it, offered it up as advice and even regurgitated it to myself but I still need to listen...grasp it. So, for my benefit…

The only way that we can be positive that our lives work the way that God planned, is if we trust him with EVERYTHING.

Solomon gives three times when it is imperative to trust God in Proverbs 3.

1. When life takes an unexpected turn…aka-completely new job that you know will come to an end, having a peace about something that sets your mind in turmoil, and committing yourself to his financial principles even when “your way” seems to be working fine. I know that I don’t have to understand.

2. When you have no idea of what our future holds and yet God has commanded us to trust and obey regardless of how dreary or uncertain. I don’t have to understand, he will make sense of it for me.

3. When you are faced with decisions regardless of how big, small, urgent, long term or minute. If we consult him on every decision, he will guide. God will straighten my path by giving me a sense of identity.

God does not have my life on auto pilot and knows exactly what is ahead regardless of what the instruments read.

While there are walks, jumps and leaps of faith…none of them are blind. God has never failed.

Drinking, Dragging, Skinning, Drinking.

I'm exiting the rollercoaster

Here is to doing what I want.

The freedom to act acccording to our own desires is called compatibilism, because it is compatible with determinism. The bible ascribes this capacity to all human beings.

The bible says "good" people act out of the desires of thier good heart, the wicked person out of his wicked heart (Matt. 12:35). There are times, of course, when we are unable to do what we “want” to do, at some level of wanting (as Rom. 7:15). But in most of the decisions of life, we do what we want, in the face of potential obstacles.

Thankful for a humble memory

I could not have asked for a better seat at graduation. Right in front I sat staring into the faces of sixty-nine students who had finally reached “the end that marks the beginning.” As I looked across the field at the bright faces I began to see anticipation and tears in the eyes of yesterday’s children and tomorrow’s leaders, or at least the next manager of the drive through daiquiri shop. As the ceremony continued I felt a sense of pride arise within me. “God I can’t wait to get out of here” was never a phrase that passed through my lips at that time, or during college, but I often see students confuse petty drama with the sometimes-tedious routine. If there were no school, or work for that matter, what would we go out on the weekends to celebrate freedom from?


As for Christina’s rule of law, starting something means nothing if you don’t finish it. Anything short of a whole hearted attempt is failure in my book. In today’s world, finishing school is not exactly the most difficult thing to do while it remains a necessity paradoxical to yesteryear’s lifestyle of leaving school to support your family. My solution is don’t start a family until God says to and if the one you were born into needs help, work nights.

I have always had a passion for education. I remember lining up my sister’s baby dolls  to teach, preach and sue them.

I will never forget the mixed emotions I felt that day. I was so proud and angry at the same time. There they were, all of my peers sitting in their caps and gowns when I should have had a seat with them. I realize now that it was not my fault that I was forced to endure circumstances that altered my life and personality forever. It is not my fault that I had to leave school to pay rent and buy food because my father and mother temporarily had different priorities. I am just thankful that there were people in my life to help me through it. I was given a second chance at life. When I came back to school, I had lost all credit for my junior year, but I was given the opportunity to try again. I was checking groceries 10 hours a day and stocking shelves 8 hours at night to make enough money to move back and go to school. No one felt sorry for me, and I can honestly say, I no longer did either.

I sat as the name was called that would have preceded mine, Hancock-my best friend. Then there was the silence where I would have been. But I was in the stands watching and finally thanking God that I had stopped regretting, blaming and successfully started over.

Pride was my companion throughout the day. My heart ached when I saw everyone hurling their caps into the sky. I softly said, “well, no” when parents questioned “wasn’t this your senior year?”

This was in fact the very best and worst ever experience of high school, and while I have countless  life altering mistakes and regrets on the books, this single day opened my eyes to a new life. I finally learned how to lay down my pain and get up without it. I had been lying hurt, bitterness, and resentment down on the altar for years; but I just couldn’t manage to leave it there.

There in those stands where I was actually somehow meant to be, I left my anger and tears Maybe I wasn’t ready for the real world yet. Maybe I had to reach a point in my life where I would not let anything or anyone hold me back so that I could break the generational curses of my family and reach God’s perfect place for me in this world.

Four years later, my parents would not watch me graduate from college, but for the first time in years, they both called to congratulate me, which was one of the first of many steps in mending the relationships within my family.
I was given a chance that many people will never be offered. I experienced a Christmas Carol sort of out of body experience; the ever so popular “blessing in disguise” routine. I got to hit pause and watch what life consists of when no one knows you’re watching. Life somehow needed to reschedule my appointment. So, from the depths of my heart, what I really mean to say is “thank you.”

May your accessories always harmonize with your natural beauty

Anthony Hamilton says it best...

We don’t have to worry bout no money to have us a real good time

And we don’t have to leave in the morning the whole day just you and I
And it don’t have to get any better it's perfect you in my life
If you're cool, then I'm cool then we're cool

We don’t have to worry bout no groceries we can fill up on love alone
If we aint got enough for a movie we can just sit at home
Have a lil role play baby wat ever turns you on

If you're cool, then I'm cool and we're cool
If you're cool, then I'm cool then we're cool

Quit your worrying baby (oh, oh, oh)
Quit your worrying girl (you don’t have to worry no more)
Quit your crying lady (gone head and cry)
We can conquer the world.

Pack a lil lunch for the evening
Let me hold you tight
Don’t be worried bout no problems believe me
Everything's gonna be alright

We can shoot for the moon watch some cartoons
Whatever makes you smile
If you're cool, then I'm cool then we're cool
If you're cool, then I'm cool then we're cool
Quit your worrying baby (oh u can 4 get about the prob now)

Quit your worrying girl
Quit your crying lady
We can conquer the world
Don’t worry girl don’t worry girl don’t worry oh you ant neva got 2 worry bout a thing baby
Oh no
Were all right (were all right) hold on hold on
Don’t worry
Ohh forget about the probs in the past
Don’t let em cry u out baby
We can conquer the world we can conquer the world

I Arrive

Since my blog is dominated by the "stuff" of now...i thought i'd take it back a little.

On November 2, 1982, my mother had been cleaning the house all day. After waxing the floors, she lay down for a nap. At 7:48 pm, I woke her up ready to see the world. Forty-five minutes later, I was born. There was no time for preparation or anesthesia. The doctor said that after about five more minutes, I would have been born in the elevator. I wonder if I was just sick of swimming around in that tiny world or if I had planned the surprise attack.


Unusual, they called me. I never took a pacifier nor did I wake up in the middle of the night like most babies. I sucked my knuckle, not my thumb and I would “reason” with my parents on the subjects of pregnancy, divorce and the validity of Santa Clause. I had a three and a half year old sister and an eight-year-old brother. Had I know this, I might not have been so eager to be born. My mother stayed at home to make sure we did not kill on another, and my father began building computers, electrical systems, and built his photography business from the ground up. I still wonder when they had time for themselves…to “make us.” My mother had her son and my father had his “daddy’s little girl,” and I was, well, “the mistake" as my sister had called me. In her own defense, my mother later explained that I was not a mistake, but merely a surprise. I however was not your average naïve child who would actually believe that there was a difference between the two.

I know now that I was frightening to my parents. They didn’t exactly know what to do with me. I would ride my bike to garage sales, buy toys and sell them at school. I stripped lawnmowers and bikes and turned a profit to buy yet something else I could sell. I had tons of ideas for things like restaurants and inventions and coming from a family that eats not much more than some variation of hamburger meat…my squirrel skinning days solidified my place as the “black sheep” of the family.

My childhood memories are littered with memories of being locked in the deep freezer, making a swimming pool with a tarp and a trailer, dragging home dead snakes after swimming in the creek, never actually wearing a pair of shoes, and booby-trapping the house with my brother to bully my sister (he began my Marine Corps training somewhere around age 4). I now realize that my mother never wanted to whip me, although she threatened on the hour and my father would come to my rescue when she did have a rampage with the switch tree. My dad would pretend to spank me and we would giggle in the back room as if my mother had no idea she was being undermined. I am so thankful for childhood that i did have, whether it be short lived or plagued with fighting, relocation and a domestic shelter. While some memories scream in my head, others make me thank God for the support system i did have.  And at 27, i realize that while my parents were not perfect, neither was I.

we do what we do.

So long, Lil' D

This was "little dodge" that rode around in my car with me. At Christmas, my little sister wanted to play with him because "he wanted to ride in the car with her." Sigh...I didn't have the heart to take him back...and now, i miss him.

Luke 6:37

Last night I ate Thai food.

Last night I drank red wine.

This morning I woke up late,

but managed to arrive at my usual time.



I got my usual phone calls,

but one didn’t go as planned,

as for the tenth time someone told me,

how terrible of a person I am.



I put twenty in the “swear jar”

and shoved a Danish in my mouth,

then sent for the state vehicle to be checked out.



I opened up my email,

to send a civil defense,

But the fact that someone told me they know me best,

 so they “can judge me,”

brought me to write this.



I have backed away from men who like me,

I don’t intend to string along,

I have stopped swearing and white- lying

And yet the bitterness is not gone.



I think I know what love is,

Regardless if a “you and I” are to be a “we,”

And I don’t think it is judgmental,

I think it is “shackles-off”, and free.

 

"Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven.

Downtown Red Stick

Drinking month old green beer at happy's, running 3 miles in 115 degree (or 20 degree) weather only to end at the "Free Beer and Pizza" sign, and showing the "ghetto photographer" a little love all make sense on third street.

How's this for a resolution?

Prepare yourself.
Perhaps not a total abandonment...but I am going to try and exercise the boundaries of my vocabulary so that I might effectively remove the crutch of too often used four letter words. Sigh. (just typing it was difficult)

Am I asking too much?

I am blessed. I am surrounded by people who love me, spoil me and listen when I need to talk. I have a grandmother that calls me "banjo eyes" just like her dad called hers-big, round and with every color eyes can be.. I have a nanna who emails me, saves every picture of me and tells me she is proud of me. I have a mother that accepts me and has never asked me to change, a father that has redeemed himself completely and taught me that all you can expect of family is the "best" they know.
I have a line of people who think I'm wonderful, even after they get to know me. I'm not terrible to look at, I love people and animals and God. I pray for others before myself and am actively trying to make my circle of good friends smaller, so I can devote myself to a few great ones. I am overwhelmingly hungry for life and I love even the bad days because they are gifts. I try not to be selfish, brag or complain and everyone knows my "hard ass" exoskeleton is only to shelter the heart that drops everytime a baby passes. The "tough-ie" Immediately shatters and falls the first time we share a hug or a beer. I don't love being waited on hand and foot, but respect the person who may try from time to time.
I just want one thing.
I have made pointless list upon list for the perfect man.
I have pro and con-ed my way through tons of "Mr. Might and Maybe's."
I have loved, lusted, lied, cried and cheated.
Sexy, talented, athletic, artistic and hilarious have all kissed me.
But since I was seven, the single most important thing I want has not changed.
I asked my first kiss, date and love. I've begged my short terms, and gave up on the commiters after realizing that someone would have to WANT to give me this one thing.
I realize this must be annoyingly all about "me me me" but that is exactly what it is. What I actually want from someone else that I can ask for, wish for, but only hope comes with the package of my "Mr. Right."
I have for the better part of 27 years only thought consistently of this one unchanging thing that will make me happy. It doesn't have to come now. It doesn't even have to be soon.
I want someone to pray with me and tell me a story before I go to bed for the rest of my life. So, sincerely sighing, I honestly want to know...Am I asking too much.