idontbelieveingrammar

ok, it's been a few weeks since I've done a playlist. (mostly because grooveshark got all new and improved on me and i couldn't figure out how to import the widget....but i think maybe cross your fingers that I got it down this time). If my life were a movie, it would be really boring one. And occasionally funny. But the soundtrack would be awesome. This is a soundtrack for the year, and I copied from some john foreman (and vivaldi) and broke it down into seasons. 5 songs each: winter, spring, summer and fall. And most of them have some sort of significance about what I was thinking, going through, doing, listening to or shows I was watching...but that's about all I'll say about that...listen for yourself. And make up your own...it was kind of fun.

The other day I took a jog through town. My husband’s home town. And I ran past the high school and through a few parks and past the cemetery. It isn’t my town. I don’t know who lives in what house, but I’ve been here enough to know my way around. And if I’m honest. I know these streets a little better than the ones in my own home town. I probably send more Christmas cards to this zipcode than my own. It is classic West Texas small town. There is a drag that teenagers still cruise right down the center. I know where to get the good ice. That you can’t buy beer at all on Sundays. How I like my Coney. My way around the local WalMart and United. Which pew to sit in and where we will eat afterwards. Where to get a decent cup of coffee and one of the best breakfast burritos of all time. To expect friends and neighbors to drop by just because often bearing baked goods. I know that if I go to Dos or Hastings or the Coney that we will run into people. That know me, even if I don’t know them. ...

One last recycled piece.... And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.” Matthew 3: 17 (NIV) I have a reputation as the over-the-top birthday party girl. Last year, my son turned two, and we had a petting zoo, crafts, face painting, Chik-fil-a, and of course ice cream. I know that I should simplify, and I feel guilty about not, but I have given in. I love it. I love making a huge deal out of his big day. I don’t mind blowing my budget or even decorating fifty cupcakes. I have already started planning for next year’s party, and it is only nine months away. We make a pretty big deal out of Christ’s birthday too. Stores start putting out decorations right after Halloween. We blow our budgets, we decorate, we send out cards, we cook, we shop, and we overbook our calendars. Sometimes I worry that all the presents and commercialization has cheapened this holiday. That we are so busy that we forget that it is indeed a birth we are celebratin...

This morning was kind of cold and Shaun was already gone when the kids woke up. They both found their way into my bed and under my covers. I’d say we were snuggling but Owen and Tess were mostly just poking each other, kicking me and asking me to get up and make cinnamon rolls and turn on cartoons. I tried pretending to be asleep. They didn’t fall for it. I tried stealing my covers back. They decided to be on the same team for once and pulled harder. And I knew it was time to get up and get breakfast and shower and all of those other things I needed to do before church. But first. I squished Tessie and told her I loved her. She gave me a slobbery kiss on the cheek, told me she “lubbed” me. Looked at me sweetly and asked for a cookie with about a 10 syllable please tacked on to the end. Becuase she knows I am sucker for that kind of cuteness. Then Owen. I gave him a good squeeze and told him quietly that I loved him the best (and yes, I tell Tess that too). And he just ...

I’m not sure when exactly this started to happen, but it feels like it was just Christmas or Easter or some season that I have already done before. And writing about it makes me feel a little tapped out. Like I am just on repeat. Posting the same old posts (well partly because I am). And the seasons are getting away from me. Slipping by faster and faster, hardly before I can get my tree up it is time to take it down. And I wonder if it even matters at all. To do the same show every year. The same parties. The same extra 10 pounds and buying the same presents that I really can’t afford. And church is a little bit on repeat too. We sing the same songs and talk about the same teenage girl and the story we have all heard hundreds of times.  And of course, It matters to my 5 year old who checks the advent calendar every day. And tells me that there are only 2 more days til Christmas because there are only two more links left on the chain he made at school. Like ripping off paper...

I love going to my mailbox this time of year. Usually it is only filled with junkmail and bills. This month it is filled with friends. Their faces and letters make me smile. The Christmas letter has always baffled me a bit. I love reading them and getting to catch up on people's lives. But I have never quite known what to say and never mailed off any of my own. Most of these letters seem a bit too polished. I don't mean grammatically.......more like some of the stuff of life has been left out. One of my good friends has always joked about writing a REAL Christmas letter. Starting out with something like, " This year we filed for bankruptcy" or "we managed to stay married for another year" or "my son is failing half of his classes". Imagine the response those would get! So I will attempt a REAL letter. Some of the highlights as well as some of the lows. (and this isn't my first attempt, I did a few years ago and posted it here .) I start...

Another recycled post. the topic was happiness and the original title was "pursue something else" but it isn't such bad reminder about where our joy should come from. Not presents or lights or even homemade cookies....although I do really like cookies. Americans like the idea of happy. of pursuing happiness. It is even one of our inalienable rights at least according to the Declaration of Independence. But I think maybe we should pursue something else. like love or joy or peace or contentment. and leave happy alone. Don't read me wrong. I am neither bitter nor cynical. Even my problems are good problems. I am positive. Half full. And most days I laugh a whole lot more than I cry. And simple things like a dance party in the living room, an hour alone in Barnes and Noble, the yellow pajama pants my son picked out for me for mother's day, potstickers, clean sheets, someone surprising me with coffee, jeans fresh from the dryer, a good song on the radio, o...

http://psicommunications.typepad.com/ On vacations and breaks it is easy for me to read a book a day. I  type hundreds of them into my computer. At parties, I’m often the girl talking and laughing the loudest. I pay attention to song lyrics. I don’t filter the ones that come out of my mouth very well. And I’m trying to get better at saying the good ones out loud. I tell my toddler to use hers all the time, rather then just hitting her brother. I tell her brother to use less of his while the teacher is talking so we stop getting bad notes sent home. I like puns. And can tear up a crossword. I’m a little out of control with the texting. I can’t write an email that isn’t at least three paragraphs long. If someone writes me nice ones I read them over and over again at least a half dozen times. If they say them outloud I try really hard to let them slip in. To believe them. I probably use twice as many in any given day than my husband. (or more). I try to be intentional with the ones...

Almost exactly a year ago I was on my way to a little town in West Texas for the first in a season of funerals on my husbands side of the family. Peace and funerals aren't usually words that I put in close association. But when I got home and tried to come up with something to write about peace for the second week of advent, this is what came out. And also exactly what I hope, for my friend that I wrote about in the last post who was in town to bury her grandfather. She just wrote me a long rambly email telling me about all the things that went wrong over the weekend. But that the last memory she has of her grandfather was him dancing and singing in the kitchen with his wife. Despite all the family drama and mishaps and even in the face of cancer. Peace sings and dances (and is apparently a baseball fan). (now for the recylced part) "4Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! 5Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. 6Do not be anxious ...

I picked up one of my favorite people at the airport yesterday. I hadn’t seen her in ages and we had about an hour to cram in as much as we could. And for me, intentional conversation and time limits make me sweat. I usually need a little while to warm up. But if I was only gonna get an hour I wanted more than to just talk about the weather or the flight or our favorite new songs. But we did ok and conquered the vast assortment of conversational topics from ky to eulogies to the fact that maybe we never really get over it. Motherhood and girlfriends and losing passion. That it gets easier and that maybe that is enough and the best we can hope for. There were laughs, hugs, and swear words and our very own baggage claim. And she was even better than I remembered. Twice she asked me if I was going to blog about this. I told her probably not. And I wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. Maybe both. (and yes, I fully recognize that me blogging about why I’m not bloggin...

....and some more recycled advent (still on hope)....from a few years ago. Forgive the repeats. Just a few years ago I gave birth to a son. I took a packed bag, received an epidural, made a mix cd, and I think the hospital even had cable…..although I never thought to turn it on. I had multiple doctors, nurses, pillows and morphine ( lots of morphine). All my friends and family showed up. A few friends even waited all night (literally!) behind closed doors for that first cry. Afterwards I received flowers, presents, 19 staples, ice chips and of course a beautiful little boy swaddled tightly in his hospital blanket. Mary, was just a scared teenager out back in the barn. No epidural or even clean towels. I love these humble beginnings. This is the Christ child. God could have orchestrated his appearance on Earth anyway He wanted. He could have been beamed down like an episode of Star Trek. He could have immediately sat on a throne. Or He could have at least reserved a room for him in...

The other day I was having a conversation about prayer with a friend. Sort of. Mainly it was a series of texts back and forth because even though I appear pretty open and honest in this space. In real life, when I talk about things close to my heart I get pretty bad at it. I look at my shoes. I change the subject. I start to mumble and talk a little nonsense. At one point she asked me to just send her the link. Because in 504 blog posts, there is probably one out there. And I had to admit, that there is no link. Because there is no post. The closest one I could find was on yoga . And I wasn't going to send her a link about my downward dog. And I hated to have to admit that I am much more likely to talk about my favorite songs or foods or friends or even doubt than one of the main spiritual discplines. And not because I don't think it is important or vital but because I am really really bad at it. I've read books on it. I have things I believe firmly about it....

I have a confession. The Christmas decorations that came out before Halloween kind of pissed me off. And I like Christmas. And I have little kids that I want to make it special for. Which would require me to be excited and intentional and probably bake things. I kept thinking I'd be more into it after Thanksgiving. But. Still not so much. I did get Shaun to lug the tree out of the shed. But we haven't decorated it yet. Despite my son's begging. Friday night I took my kids and nieces and nephew to look at lights. And was mostly tired and full and ready for bed. Although I did manage to spin under my favorite big tree of lights until I was dizzy. Like I do every year. I even did a little Christmas shopping today. But mostly I was trying to get it over with. Toys R Us doesn't exactly put me in a spirit of cheer. And to my sister who sent me home from Thanksgiving with wrapped presents. A big fat thank you and please try explaining to my 2 year old why she ...

One of my favorite thanksgivings wasn’t even a thanksgiving at all. I didn’t eat turkey and no one had the day off. The weather was miserable. Cold and rainy and gloomy. I never seemed to get warm or dry and slept for a week on a tiny twin bed. With Shaun. In a flat with about 4 other people I didn’t know at all. And one I did. We skipped work for few days, emptied out our bank account, cashed in a few old savings bonds and traded in our dollars for pounds. And flew across the pond. And spent the week in London. And skipped Thanksgiving entirely. And loved every second of it. It was a time in my life where at parties the conversation was always steering to breastfeeding and birth control and babies. Which was odd because we were all married with no kids. We took  our dogs to dinner parties. Played ultimate Frisbee on the Kimball lawn every Thursday. Watched HGTV and decorated our new homes. We scrapbooked and redecorated and went to late movies. We packed up and w...

This week I went home for a few days for Thanksgiving. And going home is always a little bit weird. I am from a college town which means it is always different. Under construction. Updated. With newer hipper places to eat and shop and drink coffee. And my parents don’t live in the same house I grew up in, or even on the same side of town. I live close enough, but don’t go home often because we usually do family stuff at the lake. And I’ve reached the age where I don’t really call my old friends the second I get into town. Most of them are elsewhere or we are too busy trying to cram in family stuff and put our toddlers to bed to go out for drinks, wrap houses, climb the band practice stand, steal street signs, sneak into apartment hot tubs or smoke cigars on the football field...not that I’ve ever done any of those things  :) … Instead I hung out with my family, ate too much, and went for some really long runs. On Friday, after a few pieces of pie (yes for breakfast) and put o...