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Piper of Love

Last Build Date: Tue, 31 May 2011 03:06:12 +0000


Being Here Now

Wed, 18 May 2011 02:51:00 +0000

I barely remember how to write a blog post, it's been so long. I'm drawn back to this place now, again, with things to say seeping out of my pores, even if not yet out in my words.

I have so much to tell you. So, so much.

You probably can't even begin to imagine, and that's okay, the best stories are usually that way.

While I've been on hiatus I missed my 4th blogaversary, and I've been seriously contemplating putting this tired old blog down for good. With all the changes it's hard to imagine coming back to this place so full of the past, I almost don't want to at all most of the time.

I'm not sure what the future holds for the blog life I once had, and held so dear, but even if I do shut her down, I think this blog deserves a final chapter. An end of this story.

An end that preludes an entirely new beginning.


"Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who
That it's namin'.
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin'."

Bob Dylan

This Week in Instagrams

Sun, 27 Mar 2011 18:44:00 +0000

So, I know I haven't been writing very much lately, but these pictures of last week sort of speak for themselves. It's been very busy, very interesting, and very very instagram-y, to say the least.

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How to Get From Forgiveness to a Metal Band

Thu, 24 Mar 2011 12:48:00 +0000

(We were listening to a preacher speak about forgiveness, using the story of Judas betraying Jesus.)

Jackson (age 11) looked at me and whispered...

"Judas? There's a religion named after that guy, right?"

Me: "Huh? A religion?"

Jackson: "Yeah, I think it's called Judas Priest."

Me: *snort* "No, son. Judas Priest is a metal band."

Jackson: "Oh, right. What's the name of the religion then?"

Me: (I didn't get a chance to say anything before he said...)

Jackson: "Oh yeah, I think I was thinking of Jehovah's Witness. *chuckling* That's funny."

Me: *laughing out loud*

Jackson: *suddenly very serious* "Can I listen to Judas Priest?"


I think there might be a subliminal message in there somewhere.

Instagram Wins

Sat, 19 Mar 2011 07:00:00 +0000

I'm having a big love affair with Instagram (duh). The filters are so great, and the community is so much fun. If you're on Instagram and I'm not following you yet, come find me, I wanna see your goods.

These are my best recent Instagrams.

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Sleepy Luck

Thu, 17 Mar 2011 02:55:00 +0000

I want to go to bed right now. I'm going to go to bed right now.

Certain things are easier said than done.

Like, going to bed right now means I have to get up off the couch. In order to get up off the couch I need to take my laptop off my lap, and then get out from under this cozy blanket.

Sometimes certain things feel impossible.

It's almost ten. I never go to bed this early, but I'm yawning perfect I-can-fall-asleep-right-now yawns right now. The insomniac in me feels I must act on this. I must snooze while the iron is hot.

See how tired I am? My cliches aren't working properly.

My boys aren't here this week. That's like... you know

throwing me off.

I'm determined to wear my lucky green t-shirt to work tomorrow, because it's St. Patrick's Day, and I can.

And also because if I don't wear green I'm pretty sure Mr. Dirty Old Man will assume he can take pinching liberties. And I can't have that.

I might wander across the street at lunch tomorrow too. There's a fun bar there, and the weather is going to be warm, and they've been preparing their patio all week. I should have a beer at lunch. It's the neighborly thing to do.

In about two minutes I'm getting up. In approximately four minutes I'm laying down in bed.

I'm going to do that. It's going to happen.


lucky green t-shirt

Sentiment Overload (blame Twitter for this one)

Wed, 16 Mar 2011 01:47:00 +0000

I can be a bit of a sentimental freakshow sometimes, it's true. I'm not ashamed to admit it, even if the admission makes me sound kind of like a hoarder (which I'm SO not, at all just don't look in my closets or under my bathroom sink).

I am the keeper of such sentimental holdings as movie stubs from dates (as far back as 1991), of notes from high school, nearly every handwritten letter I've ever received, and postcards from all over the world (these paper goods live in shoe boxes locked in a cedar trunk in my closet). I even keep tubes of lipstick that I haven't worn in years, just because of the fond memories I associate with the color (yes, seriously). Like, Clinique Raspberry Glace? It was my signature lip color all through high school. And from a few years ago when I was heavy into lip plumpers? I'm still holding onto three tubes of Sexy MotherPucker (part of the fabulous Soap & Glory line, which Target recently quit carrying for some unholy inexcusable reason).

If I keep all that stuff, I suppose it goes without saying that I hold onto sentimental online goodies as well. Words and pictures and memories can't really be tucked away in boxes though. Instead they get filed away on hard drives and posted in blog archives for posterity (and love). And that's exactly what this post is. It's a page in a scrapbook of love, and something I will always remember.

I opened Twitter on my computer today (as opposed to the twitter app on my phone) and saw something extremely awesome.

From the little sea of my 500+ followers, and the 400+ I follow, Twitter decided to match little ol' me with two ultra-amazing brilliant women who everybody in the blogosphere knows and admires, and Twitter even said that these girls are like me. To say that I was flattered is an understatement.



But more than flattered, I'm reminded of how lucky I am.
Those fabulous girls are also two of my very best friends.


Amy, Me, and Momo in an elevator in Chicago.

Dear Amy, you are dazzling. Your new writing blog is pure magic, perhaps even more so than doobleh-vay, if that's even possible. Whatever color your aura is, that's the color I hope mine is. I want to bottle your wonderous-ness up and bathe in it. I'm still dancing to the music we made. I love you, forever.

Dear Momo, I loved you before I met you. Way back, even before that one time you had gumdrops on your header, and we bonded over that night in a metal box. You're the strongest mom I know, you help me get jokes, and you always get my jokes (and that's not nothing!). I still remember the day you joined Twitter, I even remember your first tweet. And I always will.

Avitable's Contagious Random

Sun, 13 Mar 2011 18:58:00 +0000

I caught Adam's Random, he probably didn't even know it was contagious.1. Who would you like to show up at your door to say they love you?Anybody who loves me.Do you love me? Come on over! I'll make cookies and/or a mediocre pot of coffee.2. Last furry thing you touched?Unless the pile on this chenille blanket counts, I honestly can't remember the last time I touched anything furry. (I'm not very furry either... clean-shaven, ftw!)3. How many drugs have you done in the last three days?Two (legal pills people, legal pills)4. Do you miss film or does digital work for you?I do miss film, actually. I enjoyed being in the dark room. But digital is easy and funner, and stuff.5. Favorite age you have been so far?176. Your worst enemy?My tongue that trips me up and can't find the words I really want to say when I feel like I need to say them most, yet can also blurt out words I don't want to say at all. And lacking confidence when I need it most. And pride. (so you know, basically, me)7. What is your current desktop picture?This precious one of my boys from 20088. What was the last thing you said that was funny?Well, if we're talking actually speaking words, I remember hearing the guy I hung out with Friday night laugh. So I must have said something funny once, maybe even twice, but I couldn't tell you what it was. If we're including things 'said' in the internetz, I'm pretty sure I killed it in a DM a few minutes ago.9. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly what would it be?I'd trade either of those for the ability to read minds. But flying would be pretty cool. I'd trade all of the above to be able to be invisible though, like a fly on the wall sometimes (what if I could read minds and be invisible?? that would be so badass).10. Who can’t you say “no” to?Hmmmmm? I'm pretty good at saying "no" to anyone. But I'm not very good at saying "no" to a really good kiss.11. The last song you bought or downloaded?A Stephen Fretwell album on CD, because that's the only format it's available in. I can't wait to listen to it either, in 4-14 days.12. What time of day were you born?8:48 am13. What’s your favorite number? Why?I don't have a favorite number. I probably tend to favor single digits, but I don't get silly about it (and mostly because they're easier to do math with).14. Where did you live in 1987?We moved every six months or so when I was a child, so I'm not exactly sure. It's hard to remember, but I do know that I was eleven.15. Are you jealous of anyone?A little bit, sometimes.16. Is anyone jealous of you?Are you kidding, who wouldn't be jealous of me? I get to live with the two coolest little dudes in the whole entire world.17. It’s been almost a decade. Where were you when 9/11 happened?Living in Fort Collins, CO. I was married and Jackson had just had his second birthday (a decade ago? wow. it feels longer to me... it's been a really long ten years)If you catch this from me, don't worry, it's relatively painless.[...]

Not a vaguely original analogy.

Sat, 12 Mar 2011 19:29:00 +0000

I've just sat here for an hour freestyling a really profound sounding analogy having to do with broken vases being pieced back together, and flowers, and springtime, and glue. It was lovely actually, but I deleted it. What's the use in one more vaguely original analogy anyway? Especially when there's better music to listen to.

I have a new friend who's been sharing lots of music with me this week, and you know how much I love that.

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By the way, has it really been two weeks since my last post? Yipes. I suppose having pneumonia could be to blame. It's awfully good to be on the mend, and breathing easier.

Remind me to tell you about the fun I had when Seth was here, okay? We had such big adventures, and cookies, lots and lots of cookies.


And please don't let me forget to tell you what Liz told me about how Bernie Mac, Michael Jackson, and Tupac were actually killed by the Masons.


Sat, 26 Feb 2011 06:55:00 +0000

to say things, or to not say things. to scathe, or not? to rise above

oh, this gracious thing I have yet to become

there is still charm in virtue, no?


in aspiring to not display, but be

I see

eyes open, wide and bright. I see

make a virtue of necessity

An Instagram Negative

Thu, 24 Feb 2011 03:44:00 +0000

Have I written too many posts in adoration of Instagram yet?

On the outside chance that I have, and perhaps for the benefit of my no-iPhone-having friends who might be feeling left out of the fun, here's one on something I don't like about Instagram.

As far as I know, Instagram doesn't offer any way to share a photo that isn't your own. Meaning that I can share my own photos everywhere, like Twitter, Flickr, Tumblr, Posterous, etc... but I can't share your photos at all.

Like, if I see an amazing picture, think it's hilarious, and want to show it to everyone on Twitter, I can't do that (not very easily, anyway).

Take this photo, for example.


If I want to show it to the world, or even just my friend hubs, I have to jump through several hoops to make that happen.

In fact, just to show this photo here I had to:

- take a screen shot
- email it to myself
- but, surprise!, it came as a PNG file, so then I
- uploaded the screenshot to my Photoshop app (PS Express) on my phone, where I could crop it more easily
- re-save the new edited photo and email it to myself again
- save the new JPG screenshot photo to my computer, and
- upload the photo into this blog post

There may be an easier way to make it happen, but I don't know what it would be. So, I hope Instagram will consider this in their next update, or at the very least, make a website.

I also hope someone out there laughs, or smiles, or even just huffs a smug smirk, at that circus act cat flying through the air.

(man, I must really like flying cats)

(also, no, I can't figure out how to edit PNG images on my computer. probably because I'm too busy laughing at flying cats)


Wed, 23 Feb 2011 04:51:00 +0000

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“There is a determined though unseen bravery that defends itself foot by foot in the darkness against the fatal invasions of necessity and dishonesty. Noble and mysterious triumphs that no eye sees, and no fame rewards, and no flourish of triumph salutes. Life, misfortunes, isolation, abandonment, poverty, are battlefields that have their heroes; obscure heroes, sometimes greater than the illustrious heroes.”

- Les Misérables, Victor Hugo

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Mon, 21 Feb 2011 04:51:00 +0000

I had a gorgeous angora cardigan once. It was sublime, the kind of prize wardrobe piece that paired elegantly with tattered 501's and could class up the classiest LBD. It had ridiculously fabulous buttons too, fresh water pearl, my very most favorite.

The only time I ever had it cleaned was once, and I didn't know beforehand that I'd never wear it again. The cleaners removed the buttons, as they should, but replaced them with decidedly atrocious black plastic ones, due to a gross oversight by some high school kid who wasn't paying attention.

I didn't notice the travesty until days after I picked it up. Of course I called the cleaners then, and gave them a tasteful what-for. I sort of regret being tasteful, but what can you do? There's no point in losing your head over lost buttons, no matter their splendor.

All I could do was add the disaster to a list of things that mark my disdain for anything related to Texas. Even now it makes me sad to think of it, a breathtaking cardigan with low-rent fobs that didn't even match.

Tonight I'm thinking of Lucky, my pet rabbit in sixth grade who was house trained. He was a half-lop, that's what I called him. Only one of his ears stood up, the other laid so sweetly down that I determined he had to be a lop-ear instead of just a normal rabbit with one broken ear.

Lucky was my favorite pet, even when he ate all our brooms. He was lucky because I found him when he was a tiny baby thing, in a hole in our front yard. His mother abandoned him, we assumed, because no bunny that tiny would go hopping off on it's own. I fed him milk with a medicine dropper, his little teeth clanged against it making pinging sounds on the glass.

I think maybe I didn't need to love that angora sweater so much, because I loved Lucky a whole lot more.

I really just wish I had still those buttons.

(not my legs, or bunnies.)

Instagram Wins of the Week

Sat, 19 Feb 2011 07:19:00 +0000

Instagram filters are just spectacular, they really are. They don't make photos something they're not, they just make them feel more rich, and alive, or something. Plus, people 'Like' them. I 'Like' photos all the time myself.

These are my best shots of the week... I really like them.

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My favorite Monkee

Thu, 17 Feb 2011 04:27:00 +0000

For some reason I remembered watching The Monkees as a child on my grandparents little box TV today. Where the memory came from, I don't know, but I've been concentrating on making it grow. Taking that tiny glint of a thing, and remembering more things around it. I love being able to do that.

I might not have remembered that Michael Nesmith was probably my first crush otherwise, or the details of my thoughts on him. I was far too young to think of a kissing kind of crush, but I definitely thought he was the cutest Monkee, and maybe the coolest guy I'd ever seen. I also liked his green stocking cap a lot. It's a funny thing the things you can suddenly know again.

If I hadn't have thought of all of that, I wouldn't have gotten to think of my grandparents TV. And I wouldn't have thought about my grandpa getting up from his easy chair to turn the dial, to protect me and my innocence, any time a cigarette or beer commercial came on. His gallantries left their mark on my heart, like a brand that etched old-fashioned churched morals in a way that I could only appreciate and never resent.

I also wonder where my taste in men came from at such a young age, and it's interesting that it's still the same. Of the Monkees, Michael Nesmith is definitely the coolest.


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Mon, 14 Feb 2011 14:00:00 +0000

Valentine's Day is a good day to hate take a long walk off a short pier go postal inside Hallmark eat your weight in Krispy Kreme's sit in your bathtub and weep pass out kisses to the ones you love.



My heart pitter pats for you... it's true.
Happy Valentine's Day

{valentine credit}

Snow Day #4

Wed, 09 Feb 2011 15:21:00 +0000

This is the fourth snow day in two weeks. School is closed, work is closed, and the walls of this house are closing in.


I have said 'stop fighting' and 'please use inside voices' and 'just be nice, all you have to do is be nice' and 'leave your brother alone if you can't be nice' and '... or else!' one too many times. I have responded to 'MOM, look at this!' and 'can I have a snack?' and 'Mom, can I...' forty times too many.

I have baked, and cooked, and cleaned. I have entertained, and obliged, and changed the rules, and lifted video game and TV time limits. Over and over again. I have been the finder of all lost things, and the silencer of high-frequency, repetitive, disgusting mouth noises, over and over again.

I can't do any of that again today, though. I just can't. Things are going to be different.

First, I'm going to double up on my nerve tonic. Then I'm going to lock myself in my bedroom, with happy ear plugs. I will tune everything out and focus only on sublime things. Perhaps I will finish reading my book, or finally flip through months-old magazine subscriptions, leisurely cat-napping in between.


It's so funny how I say I am going to do those things, like I really think I can. Like I really think I will.

I won't, of course.

But I will do other awful things. Like force my boys to clean their rooms, and fold the laundry immediately after I wash it. And I might make them watch romantic comedies instead of shrill cartoons, while forcing them to eat wholesome food.

Thank goodness for nerve tonic.

Entertain Wonder

Wed, 09 Feb 2011 01:31:00 +0000

I ate an entire box of Gobstoppers today, against my better judgement. But it was filled with red ones, and that almost never happens. It's a rare thing to find such a high red-one ratio. It's so rare, in fact, that I suppose that's why I couldn't stop myself. I adore the red ones.

One might conclude that today was my luckiest Gobstopper day ever. Because it was. It really, really was.

If I were a celebrity, and I got to tell people what I wanted waiting for me in my dressing room, one of the things on my list would be a bowl full of red ones. Only red.

I would also ask for bowls of other red hard candies. Like, the cherries in Runts, and also little boxes of red Nerds. And big red gumballs.

If I were queen, I would decree that all candies in my kingdom be the red ones.

Something you don't know about me is that I eat more Gobstoppers than anyone you know. I really love them. Sometimes I buy three boxes at a time.

(my teeth deserve some recognition here, I think. they're such champs. maybe instead of recognition I'll just give them time off for good behavior... initiating Gobstopper fast now...)


“Look out on life with amazement, not shock. The variety, the diversity, the manner of every person, the beauty amidst the drudgery, the contrasts, the opportunities, the heroism in the lives of ordinary people, your gifts, your talents, your friends - even just one friend - is all awesome. Live in awe, and entertain wonder, and you will be knocking on the door of true love. Don’t kill it with cynicism or criticism, don’t sabotage your life with moaning and complaining. Open the eyes in your head and the eye in your intellect and choose to see the stunning, awesome, diverse beauty of life happening around you right now. Meet it with your heart and you will enrich and be enriched in one single moment.”



Wed, 02 Feb 2011 19:43:00 +0000

Today we made snow ice cream, and my boys thought it was the most exciting discovery of their lifetimes. We sat at the table eating it together, discussing why snow can be delicious, and why it doesn't really taste like ice cream but still tastes good anyway, and why I didn't put chocolate chips in it.

This is the thing I love most about children, I think. How every word is worth exclaiming, and how every thought is new, how the smallest things hold the highest degrees of enchantment.


I remember when Jackson was a baby, how I'd have him hanging in his bouncy chair from the door frame in our tiny apartment in Maine. Every room in the place was off of the kitchen, even the bathroom, and the bathroom door was next to the kitchen sink. He would hang there while I cooked or did dishes, or sometimes when my arms were tired from carrying him. I carried him all the time, I loved to. He was a heavy observer of life. He noticed everything. I never stopped talking to him, narrating.

Anyway, there he would be, hanging in the doorway, and one day I noticed him staring with supreme concentration at the frame. I realized it was a nail head he had spotted, just a tiny painted-white circle I would never have seen. It held him captivated for what felt like a million perfect seconds of absolute intrigue. I was fascinated watching him discover, watching him aim his pudgy finger, trying so hard to touch it, not stopping until he did, then squealing for his victory.

Maybe he was only six months old, or close to it, but his diligent determination was so noble. I remember wishing my determination was just like that. Maybe it was, I thought, and if it was, then I adored that about me, because maybe he got it from me. And that thing he just did, it was the best perfect thing I'd seen to date.


{images found here}

Five Rainbows

Sun, 30 Jan 2011 21:36:00 +0000

I'm a very vivid dreamer, I always have been. I don't always have vivid dreams though. Sometimes I go weeks knowing that I had dreams every night, but not remembering much about them. Those are my no impact dreams. But then, sometimes I will have such startlingly vivid dreams that they seem to always stay with me. There are dreams I had as a child that I still remember as clearly as I did the morning after.The thing about my most vivid dreams is that they seem to happen during key pivotal moments in my life. I don't always know that it's a pivotal moment at the time, but looking back, I can see them as defining moments almost. Like, the dream was telling me something I needed to know about the moment. For clarity and perspective, or something.I understand that not everybody has these kinds of dreams, but I'm glad that I do. It almost feels like it must be a gift, even though these vivid dreams aren't always pleasant. I'm not always able to figure out what they mean either, but sometimes I wake up knowing exactly what they mean.This morning I woke up from one of the most special dreams I think I've ever had. It was powerful, and good, and enormously impactful.I was outside, I had just walked outside. I had been in a house, but the dream didn't start in the house, it started with me actually walking out of the house. There was a sense of heavy tension, an almost oppressive heaviness, that I felt I was walking out of upon exiting the house. I felt a shift in the atmosphere, like walking out of a dark stench into fresh air and light.My head had been filled with that heaviness, and walking out of the house was immediately cleansing. I was outside alone, looking around me as I walked straight across bright green grounds.Suddenly I looked up, ahead of me, and there I saw rainbows. Not just one rainbow, but several rainbows. They were full rainbows, stretched long and bright, right in front of me. Arching over the path before me. And I was in awe.They were intensely bright rainbows, against a glowy silver sky, and it was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I just stood there absorbing the splendor, it was all I could do, until I realized it was a sign meant for me. It was powerful and humbling and I was so grateful. Grateful just to be standing there seeing the rainbows. Grateful of their existence. Grateful to be their witness.Just before I woke up I counted the rainbows. There were four rainbows, one on top of the other, almost as if they could have been one extra-wide rainbow that was divided and spaced out into four. But there was also one more rainbow there. A fifth rainbow that I couldn't see yet, but I knew it was there. Like, I could sense that it was forming, and that I would be able to see it soon, in unison with the other four.That's when I woke up.Before I even sat up in bed, I began trying to think of what I know about rainbows. Their symbolism, what they signify in the bible, and what they mean in general, but I didn't want to tamper with my memory of it too much. I felt like I needed to write the dream down, record it, before I knew much more about it.I have the sense that this dream is signifying something epic, and that one day (soon, I think) I'm going to be oohing and awing about it again. I look forward to that day.[...]

It's Come to This

Sun, 30 Jan 2011 05:34:00 +0000

pre.s. this album has been on repeat for days, it's really good. whatever you do though, don't ask me to tell you how much I've been listening to Peter Bjorn and John lately, you'd blush. Young Folks, in particular, is sexy sexy. it's the bongos, I think. I dig a sexy bongo. A friend of mine had an odd thing happen to her the other night. The sort of odd thing that has caused ripples of perplexity amongst her closest friends. There has been nearly endless speculation, yet any sort of solid conclusion remains too elusive to grasp.So, I thought it would be fun to poll the audience on this one.This friend of mine was in bed with this boy she's been seeing. She has known him for a while, but not well. Not intimately. They were getting acquainted with each other in the darkness, for the first time, as boys and girls will do. During this enjoyable encounter, at one point, she placed her hand on his bare bum, where she found her hand meeting something like a bandaid first, instead of skin.According to my friend the bandaid was small, and in the lower region of the boy's bum. Not on the hip, not near the crack, just exactly in the lower fatty-part that gets sat on.She assumed it was a bandaid, kept kissing him and things, yet all the while her mind kept trying to make sense of a bandaid being on a boys bum.Was it a bandaid, she wondered? Who puts bandaids on their bum? Why did he have a bandaid on his bum??Was it the case of a big zit on his bum that caused this boy to be so dutiful with the first aid? It must have been a gnarly bum-zit, if that's the case, I told her. I mean, everybody's had a pimple on their bum, but who puts bandaids on them?My friend said that the next time her hand grazed the thing on his bum she asked him, point blank, 'is that a bandaid?'The boy then proceeded to come up with one of the most lame excuses in the history of male-pattern-rapid-excuse-making. He told her it was a nicotine patch (of all things).We all know it wasn't a nicotine patch.Perhaps this boy was just embarrassed, which is completely understandable. However, there are so many questions that still can't be answered, and this is leaving my friend, and her friends (me, especially), baffled.Surely he hoped for, if not anticipated, their first turn under the sheets. Would he not have prepared, at least a little bit?Did he need that bandaid there because whatever it was hiding was more gnarly than a boil-like bum pimple? (if so, god forbid, could it have been something wretched like herpes?? egads!)Was it a bandaid at all? What else could it have been??My friend is fairly sure she's not going to see him again, because for one thing, he's super quick with obvious bullsh*t lies, but also because she hasn't heard from the boy since then. She thinks she embarrassed him, irreversibly.She has already moved on, which is what she should do. But this mystery still really needs solving, don't you think?Are there actually bum-zit bandaiders out there? That's question #1.[...]


Sat, 22 Jan 2011 17:39:00 +0000


I believe that all things can be made new.

It's time to revamp this place.

Surviving Blog Ween

Tue, 18 Jan 2011 18:35:00 +0000

I am sitting at a public computer typing on my blog, and I'll tell ya, it feels weirder than thumb-typing posts on my phone. It still feels pretty good though, which I am very pleased to report.

For a person who's spent many years of her life funneling her every thought into bloggable fodder to suddenly find herself in the violent throes of a no-computer-having-blog-ween, I think I've been maintaining fairly well.

There's lots of new stuff happening in my world these days, and none of it has been documented here. How will I ever be able to remember that any of it happened, I wonder?

I kid.

Life continues to trot along apace, and things are good. The cold hard truth of the matter is that, aside from the shock of this unexpected blog ween, I think it's been very good for me. The habitual spilling of momentary mindset madness isn't necessary at all to the well being of me anymore. And that, my friends, is as refreshing as a long cool breeze on a stifling hot summer day.


I've been asked to get off this computer now, and I feel very rebellious and rogue for continuing to type. Are my wrists being slapped? Perhaps. But, it's all good.

I'll be back when I can. Kisses to the kiddos and love to you.

Blog Silenced

Thu, 30 Dec 2010 02:39:00 +0000


This post is being typed by my thumb, on my phone, because my computer died.

Unfortunately, this means... among other things... that I won't be blogging for a while. (blogging via thumb just isn't the same, y'all)

I will be back as soon as I can. Unless, of course, some unforeseeable thing happens during my hiatus that causes me to opt out of the blogosphere all together. That would have to be a pretty huge life changing thing though, like... getting brainwashed and moving into a treehouse with a goblin, or something. At this point I guess anything is possible, but even so, some things will still never change. Like my love for blogging, I can't see that changing.

I miss you already! See you next time ~xo

Wishing you...

Sat, 25 Dec 2010 06:00:00 +0000

I wish for you the blessings of love and laughter, and peace in your hearts and homes, this Christmas.

I wish for wonderful surprises to sneak up on you when you least expect them, and overtake you with powerful rushes of wonderment.

I wish for ceaseless gratitude in your soul, because even when you have to strive for it, gratitude is the best gift you can give and keep for yourself at the same time.

Gratitude will preserve you. Gratitude will strengthen you. Gratitude will heal you.

I wish for you abundance, and wholeness, and renewal.

I wish for you to dare to dive into the deep sea of faith and hope, even if you don't know how to swim in it. Jump in, and waves of wellness will swallow you and tumble you in riptides of contentment.

I wish for you to take a second, third, even a fifteenth look... look until you find the good thing waiting to be seen.

I wish you the fullest fullness of joy.


Christmas 2010

Just in time for Christmas

Thu, 23 Dec 2010 03:25:00 +0000

Although he does enjoy being sung to, Noah would like it to be made clear that he actually wants the "really big see through Nerf gun" for Christmas, not his two front teeth.