Did ya see that throw triple axel our skating pair landed tonight?? First one ever in Olympic history!!
Dick Button literally gushed: “Ohhhh!! What a special, SPECIAL moment!”
Then later: “A DELICIOUS moment!!”
That Dick Button is a manly fellow.
But yes, it was yummy. Just scrummy.
I woke up this morning ….. and my hair looked like David Lee Roth’s.
Might as well jump, Tracey.
Might as well JUMP.
Here is the message Piper left on our answering machine today, in the littlest, sweetest, heart-breakingest voice:
“Tee Tee, this is Piper. My toof came out …. annnd …. tell me if you would like me to come to your house …… annnd ….. gank you for the messages ….. annnd ….. I’m so es-cited ….. annnd …. my bigger toof came into my mouf …. so I like to be gwown up, like a teenager.”
Oh, little Pipey. You’re only 5. Don’t say that word! Don’t be that word, EVER! How do you even know that word?? How can I even imagine you as that word?? You take your little speech class and still have words you don’t say too well, so how can you even KNOW such a vexing and fickle word?
Just be the little girl who’s open and wild and dramatic and kind and soft and tender and who still fits snugly in my lap. The little girl who thaws the cold and hardened places of my heart. The little girl whose golden smile — not the sun — lights up this silly weary old world.
Just be that. I can’t bear it otherwise. Just be that always.
My blog friend Lauren found this in her email this morning:
Lauren-
Over the past month, I have had many people email me about how your blog doesn’t fit in with one of a Christian nature and so I have removed your site from my main blog. I have continued to bookmark it for personal viewing.
The majority of the email noted that while you do post occasionally on Christian concerns, the majority of your blog is more about your own life and your past. You have such a talent that could be used to the real greater glory of God.
I also request that you remove mention of my blog on your site as well. My readers tell me that our sites are not compatible one to the other. I have been getting a lot of heat from my conservative base.
THIS ABSOLUTELY ENRAGES ME!! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THE CHRISTIAN COMMUNITY????
I commented — sputteringly — over on her blog with this:
Lauren — I’m sick, SICK about this.
This person shows more concern about his/her “conservative base†than extending GRACE. This person (also) displays an inability to think independently, basing decisions solely on what others think. There is no mention of a personal opinion here, just “heat†from readers. I’m sorry. I call that cowardice.
Oh, wait. Let’s not forget — you’re still bookmarked for “personal viewing.†How GENEROUS. So lemme get this straight. Publicly, you’ll be denied and rejected under pressures from others, but privately — what? You’ll still be the guilty little pleasure?? Privately, you’ll still be considered a friend?? WOW. Sounds vaguely familiar.
Why bother reading her at all, friend? You won’t stick up for her publicly — (*cough* Peter *cough) — but you’ll love her privately?!
You sicken me. I sound uncharitable, I know, but I AM PISSED FOR LAUREN! And yes, I used the word “pissed.â€
Guess I’m going to hell. Or worse, I won’t be on YOUR blogroll.
BUT …. here are some portions of Lauren’s more charitable, thoughtful response (emphasis mine):
I believe that I am being used of God in this blog, to show love, grace, understanding, and non-judgmentalism. Most importantly I want the unsaved, my “non-conservative readers,†to spend time here at Created for HIS Glory and come away with the realization that God loves those He created. He does not require us to get our lives on the right track before he saves us. My past is proof that God is the One who pulls us from the muck and mire and sets us on His firm foundation where He cleanses us of our sin, removes our own self-righteousness which He calls filthy rags, and clothes us in His righteousness.
(…..)
Jesus is Lord, I am not ashamed of Him and He is not ashamed of me. In fact, if Jesus had a blogroll I’d be on it, and so would you. How appalled your conservative base would be over that fact.
If you had said that I write about blog design and do too many meme’s, I would have agreed with you and felt none the worse for your link removal request. But the words you wrote in this email actually question my Christianity and my use of my God-given gifts and abilities. I think you crossed a line you shouldn’t have.
I am making the words of the email, but not your name, public because I want to ask my readers to pray for you. You are in ministry and with an attitude like this you may be hindering the kingdom of God much more than you are building it.
GO, LAUREN!!!
Oh, yesssss!!!
Winter Olympics Opening Ceremonies — TONIGHT!!! The glorious, whirling SPECTACLE of it all!!
Wellll …. okay.
Much as I LOVE ’em, I believe there are some possible monkeyshines going on —
— because I’m STILL bugged by that archer fellow back in Barcelona 1992. Does anyone really believe he LIT the Olympic torch with that flaming arrow? NO WAY! NO FREAKIN’ WAY!!
AND — what about that ski jumper who allegedly LIT the torch in Lillehammer in 1994? NO FREAKIN’ WAY!!
Did they REALLY light those torches or was someone behind the scenes just turning it on, like a gas fireplace? I want to know!! I think about it every opening ceremony. The possible monkeyshines.
All these years later and I STILL WANT TO KNOW!!!
On the other hand …. is it really a spectacle if you can always believe your eyes?
(Still …. someone better tell me, someday. Monkeyshiners.)
Been having some technical troubles around here. My blog is hungry, apparently, and its food of choice is my posts. Probably nothing new posted until the weekend or until I figure this little problem out — whichever comes first.
Bet on the “weekend” part of that, though …
I love dance movies. I don’t care how cheesy. They just make me happy.
LOVE ’em.
And now — coming SOON — there’s this one with Antonio Banderas, no less. It seems like it’s some kind of hip-hop ballroom type thing.
Ooooohhh! Can’t WAIT!
(There is language in this post that may be offensive to some. I am quoting when I use it. I thought about how best to post it and decided to spell out the word fully. It is for the emphasis of the moment as it actually was.)
If you are a guy who’s 25 years old or younger, according to My Beloved, you are a “Little Dude.” This is NOT a compliment. It is not an endearment. It is always uttered with disdain, a shake of the head, a curl of the lip.
How to tell a Little Dude? You can’t go just on looks. You might think you can, but you really can’t. This is how you will know you’re in the presence of a bona fide Little Dude:
He will think he is brilliant when he is actually deeply, desperately stupid.
I now work with several bona fide Little Dudes. They are some of the most idiotic boys I’ve ever known. Yesterday, one of the LDs — having just attained the ancient sagacity that comes from being 20 — was venting loudly:
“I was so STUPID when I was 17!! These tattoos are so LAME!!” He thrust out his arms, palms up, so I could see the tattoos snaking down from his upper arm to the underside of his forearm. I’d noticed them before, but they were always partly covered by his sleeves. He continued:
“I mean, LOOK at this one!”
I did. It was not an image. It was simply words: “Never Forget.”
“‘Never Forget,'” I read aloud, my heart swelling a little. “Is that in reference to 9/11?”
His look had such disdain, such HATRED. He seemed to swagger.
“NO WAY! FUCK 9/11!!!”
The look in his eye did not fade as he stared at me and I stared back.
Oh, you stupid, STUPID Little Dude. You picked the WRONG person to blast with that little phrase.
Inside, I was smoldering. My body felt instantly hot. I actually think I could have turned his phrase around on him, substituting “YOU” for “9/11.” It was literally the closest I’ve ever come to saying that to another person. Somehow, though, I kept my gaze steady on his as I said, with the most careful enunciation I could muster:
“Well, you may feel differently if you ever have family members killed in an act of terrorism — as I have.”
I couldn’t breathe, but somehow these words came out.
He slumped right before my eyes. The swagger was gone. His head hung down and his gaze went with it. He would NOT look at me. I have no idea WHAT I looked like when I said this, but if my face was as blazing as my insides, well …. I may have looked a little scary. I was utterly still. I just looked at him. Finally, he spoke, looking at me, looking away, looking at me, looking away. His voice was barely audible, a mumble:
“Ohhh …. God ….. uh …. I didn’t know …… I’m …. sorry …. uh ….. sorry.”
I said nothing.
The Little Dude tiptoed off, boxers hanging out his pants.
I just stood there, trying to breathe again.
Today is our wedding anniversary. And yes, it’s also Groundhog Day. I know. And yes, that movie is one of “our” movies because who doesn’t love Bill Murray? BUT also yes, our wedding pre-dates (slightly) the movie “Groundhog Day,” lest any of you think we got married on that date BECAUSE of that movie.
We didn’t.
Actually, it was the only date within a limited time frame that my husband’s brother and his wife would be able to fly over for the wedding from Sydney, Australia.
I just remember trying and trying to get them here, if at ALL possible. First, a date in January. Then another date in January. Then a date in later February. Then, finally, February 2nd. It never even occurred to me it was Groundhog Day until months later, when a wedding vendor inquired, “Why are you getting married on Groundhog Day?”
I just stared at her. “What?”
“Groundhog Day,” she repeated. “February 2nd is Groundhog Day.”
I was dumbfounded because, well, that’s what planning a wedding does to you. I literally had not ever thought of that, not for one minute.
“It IS??” I said.
“Yeah. You didn’t know that?”
A slowly dawning light.
“Well, I knew it, but I didn’t KNOW it,” I cleverly said.
She looked at me with a glimmer of pity. Poor stupid bride. Poor stupid groom who’s marrying this poor stupid bride who doesn’t even know that February 2nd is Groundhog Day.
“At least you’ll always remember your anniversary,” she offered.
“WHAT?!”
Poor stupid bride.
But …. Groundhog Day it was. And is. And Groundhog Day has been very, VERY good to us. It almost seems as if Punxsutawney Phil has never seen his shadow.
So Happy Anniversary and Happy Groundhog Day, My Beloved!
Here’s to many more years of early springs.
This was just today.
Me: Would you like room for cream in your coffee?
Man, 60-70-ish: DON’T ASK ME THAT!! THIS ISN’T STARBUCKS!! YOU DON’T ASK THAT IF YOU WORK HERE!! WHY WOULD YOU ASK ME THAT?? JUST DON’T DO IT!! DON’T DO IT!! DON’T EVER ASK THAT!!
Old Man continues to rave like this as I pour his coffee, my back to him. Then I turn to him with his damn cuppa coffee with NO ROOM — NO ROOM — FOR CREAM. It is only some mysterious act of God — like when He held back the Red Sea or something — that keeps me from throwing it on him, screeching, “ROOM FOR CREAM WITH THAT, SLAPPY??!!”
Instead ….
Me: Sir, I’ve been here two weeks. I’m just the new girl. Cut. Me. Some. Slack.
