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