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“the fantasticks” — eons ago

Sixteen-year-old Luisa, dreamer and slight psychotic, bursts into song mere moments after twirling onto the stage at the top of the show. (Well, at least I had to twirl anyway.)

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I’d like to swim in a clear blue stream
Where the water is icy cold
Then go to town in a golden gown
And have my fortune told.

Sure, whatevs, Luisa. Calm down.

Please, God, please! Don’t let me be NORMAL! she pleads at one point.

Luisa’s mom finds her. OMG, Luisa, please just come inside and be normal with me, okay?

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But Luisa clearly cannot be tamed.

Or normal either.

Not in those shoes anyhow.

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the inexplicable

Sometimes you have no idea how stuff happens in your life.

Example:

Today, came this letter in the mail:

Dear Tracey,

Welcome to membership in the Association of Correctional Food Service Affiliates (ACFSA)! (Thank you. What?) We are pleased that you have taken the opportunity to join other correctional food service professionals in this organization. (What opportunity? WHEN?? Does this have something to do with the FOC?)

Included in this packet is the latest INSIDER (the quarterly ACFSA magazine) (hahaha, their magazine, pippa!), your membership certificate, pin (there is actually a pin — SO excited!), and card.

Be sure to call your state contact (listed in INSIDER) (their magazine, pippa!), that is either a state representative or chapter president to introduce yourself and find out about events in your area. Regional events and directors are also listed in each INSIDER magazine.

Please let us know if our office can be of assistance to you. We look forward to meeting you at the national and regional conferences in the near future. (Oh, we’ll see about that. I will SO be there if I can. At the end of the letter, they just willy-nilly gave me a username and password for their site.)

Sincerely,

Dude who clearly has no idea I never applied for membership in this organization but will gladly accept because it’s cracking me up

Oh, look. “Membership has its advantages,” as we can clearly see:

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My certificate. I LOVE it when I earn a certificate without ever doing anything. See the triangle logo in the middle bottom there? That’s exactly what my nifty pin looks like. Very Star Trek-ian. Beam me INSIDE, Scotty. Although it kind of looks like I’ve become a default Freemason, which I really don’t want to do.

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My first copy of INSIDER, their magazine, pippa!

I am a member this entire year. I have no idea how or why or when this happened but I am oddly excited because it’s just so strange and random.

I will definitely keep you posted on any pressing developments in the — what the heck is it, again? — ACFSA.

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the cereal hoarder

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Based on a true story, uhm …… me, circa age 7 ……. obsessed with cereal. And large bowls. And small spoons.

Small spoons make things last longer, you see.

(Of course, if you’ve essentially taken ALL the cereal, that should last you a good while regardless of spoon size, kid.)

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r.i.p. whitney houston

Everyone is just stunned about this, obviously.

So so sad.

My personal favorite Whitney Houston song. Ah, the ease and purity and power of her voice. One of a kind. (The key change from 3:40 to about 3:46 gives me goosebumps every time. Her face is so cute there too, like, “Here it comes, people.” Love it.) She never looked more gorgeous, if you ask me.

“I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

I hope you’re not hurting anymore, Whitney Houston. Thank you so much for sharing your gift with us.

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the skinny

~ Banshee Boy turned 1 year old on February 3rd. He’s walking — well, no. That’s not quite true. He’s clearly decided walking is for suckers and has jumped ahead to running and falling. If he cannot run and fall to get somewhere, he doesn’t really want to be there, okay? He walks laps — I kid you not — around the downstairs of my brother’s house. We’re all in the family room, and there goes BB, toddling into the kitchen, rounding the corner into the dining room, out of sight, babbling in the living room, oh, here he is again to do it all again, which he does, smiling and chatting to himself the whole way.

~ He has a distinctly “boy” energy, that kid. (Am I allowed to say that anymore? Whatever. I can’t keep up.) He is never without a ball, any kind of ball. Basketball, football, water polo ball, soccer ball (which Tee Tee kicks away from him and says “No. NO!”).

~ He is also never without the tube of Chapstick he found on the floor several days ago. He just likes it is all. If you were try to hide it under your foot, which I have never done, of course, he might tug at your foot and might loudly vocalize disapproval making you feel like a very very bad person.

~ It’s been a long time since I got to buy clothes for a little boy, so I bought BB an outfit for his 1st birthday. I mean, kid has a tube of Chapstick to play with, what does he need toys for? I didn’t know this when I bought them, but the jeans I got him were …… skinny jeans. I noticed it on the inside tag after I’d gotten them home. Skinnnny jeans, pippa. For babies. And especially Banshee Boy, the world’s beefiest, chubbiest baby. I felt like an idiot. Like some kind of withered crone trying to be a hipster idiot. Ugh.

~ When my SIL opened the present and pulled them out, BB teetering close by, I looked at the jeans, looked at my little pot roast nephew and thought, “What was I thinking? No way are those fitting him! I’m giving him body shame issues! He’s ONE and his clothes don’t fit!” But they were so cute and the little plaid shirt sent the whole ensemble over the top making my SIL squeal with delight and announce, “I’m trying them on him right now!!”

~ So off came BB’s clothes. He stood there, a fat little ball in his diaper, while his mom tugged those skinny jeans up over his folds and chubs. Then something amazing happened. An anatomical miracle. God made him skinnier, I guess, because those tiny skinny jeans actually fit that little chubster. Okay, sure, they made him walk funny, blah blah, and we all laughed, but they were very sleek and slimming. My SIL exclaimed, “Wow! He’s got a full diaper, too!” And doesn’t that sweeten the pot?

~ Chapstick, skinny jeans, and a full diaper. Banshee Boy is ready for a nite on da town.

~ I worry, though, that those jeans ol’ Tee Tee got him will permanently smush his little kidneys.

Skinny jeans for babies, pippa! And I participated!

Unreal.

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oh, look, it’s a ………… cherumple

O happy day, pippa!

A confection has finally come along to fulfill your previously unexpressed (and unknown) desire for a cherry pie baked in a chocolate cake, a pumpkin pie baked in a spice cake, and an apple pie baked in a yellow cake, all covered with some kind of pruritic rash of rainbow frosting.

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Anyone else feeling that pre-barf burning in their gullet? Race ya to the toilet.

Hold my hair back, will you?

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quote

This seemed appropriate to the theme around here lately:

How have we learned Christ? It ought to be a startling thought, that we may have learned him wrong. That must be far worse than not to have learned him at all: his place is occupied by a false Christ, hard to exorcise! The point is, whether we have learned Christ as he taught himself, or as men have taught him who thought they understood, but did not understand him … The Christian religion, throughout its history, has been open to more corrupt misrepresentation. Have we learned Christ in false statements and corrupted lessons about him, or have we learned himself?

George MacDonald, The Truth in Jesus