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Showing posts from May, 2011


I have never been much of a rule follower. Speed limits and due dates have always been starting points for me. And I’m not saying rules aren’t necessary or important. We have our share in our house.

Such as: no sharpies allowed (Tess always seems to find them anyways), If I cook dinner we eat at the table, whoever cooks doesn’t do dishes, if you use the last sheet of toilet paper, put on a new roll. You must wear pants to go outside.
And at school: No sunflower seeds (no food that involves spitting for that matter). No running with scissors. No taking things off my desk. Be in a seat. Any seat. No touching each other. No lining up at the door. No singing the Friday song, etc.

And of course all the usual rules.
And I've written about my opinion on rules before....and how they fall about third on my priority list here: the spirit of the game.

At work we have an entire book of rules for our kids to follow mapped out with the appropriate consequences. And I teach at a good school wi…

almost summer playlist

It has been a while since I've posted anything. And even longer since I've put up  a I'm going to break the dry spell for both.

And it isn't summer. I sitll have another full week of work and then some. but with sprinklers and snow cones and backyard might as well be.   And hopefully then I'll have a little more time to type....

*and for those of you that picked up on the Bridesmaids reference....(wilson phillips) was. awesome.

the cool table

Junior high sucked. I had a grown out perm. Braces. Hit puberty years after everyone else (in other words, the bra all the boys were popping on my back was unnecessary). I was in orchestra which did nothing for my popularity (nor did my GT classes). I thought eyeshadow was supposed to match my outfit. I stacked my bangs and sprayed them with my mom’s Vavuum. And my outfits were especially terrible. Lots of Esprit. Some units. A benneton sweater that I snagged from my sister. An overgrown Cosby-style sweater of my dad’s that I wore proudly. And not nearly enough pairs of the cool jeans and way too many pairs of overalls that I usually wore with one side hanging down.

I’m sure lots of people had it worse. I didn’t wear glasses. My pudgy phase didn’t begin until about 26. Boys talked to me although not nearly enough asked me to “go with them”. I talked late into the night on my neon light up phone. I went to movies with friends and dances and experimented with better ways to do my hair,…


going first

In college the big thing was accountability groups. Or prayer groups. And I always left feeling like absolute crap. Like I was doing something wrong. And was just not made right. That something in me was broken. Because I couldn’t pull it together like everyone else. But the truth was. Most everyone else was just lying. Either outloud or to themselves. Because they would ask for prayer for their sick grandmas. Or that they missed a quiet time. Or only spent 1 hour in prayer that day instead of 2. And when I talked. I spoke about the party I had been to the night before. Or my boyfriend. Or the fact that I hadn’t had a quiet time all week. And why doesn’t the bible actually mention the word “quiet time” if it is so important anyways. And when I had questions I asked them. Even if they were ones I already knew the Sunday School answers to. I wanted to know how my friends went from knowing the right answer to actually feeling it. And I was met with a lot of stares. And sometimes people would…

a mothers day appropriate repost

The first time I posted this wasn't on mother's day or even close. And last year I even wrote something about my mom. And I might have a real mother's day post in my yet...but...I also need to get some good sleep, post my grades and hopefully go for a long run. so just in case I don't type it is a mother's day appropriate repost.

My Favorite Scar

When I was ten I fell on a piece of glass and sliced open my left hand.

The scar is thick and a little lumpy because I waited too long to get stitches.
On my other hand is larger white scrappy scar from a bike injury. The involved me trying to beat the boys.
My knees are thick with scars. More bikes, tennis courts and plain old clumsy.

My son has a few already and he gladly shows them off.
They are a testament to his toughness.
The one on his back shows that he did in fact survive jumping (and falling off the bed).
There is one on his chin that the ER doctors glued shut – we no longer practice diving in the bath…

not just a football player.

My google reader is out of control.

And so is my schedule this time of year, meaning I’ve had to hit “mark all as read” more than once when it starts creeping up into the 500+. And something about that is freeing. Even though I’m always afraid I’m gonna miss out on something good.

So about two weeks ago, when I was behind on reading, writing, working, sleep, cleaning and all kinds of other things… husband texted me a link to a blog and told me I needed to read it.

And my husband knows me better than anyone. And he reads plenty. But. we rarely read the same kind of stuff. He even reads a few blogs besides mine. But they usually have something to do with sports. And I like sports ok. But mostly just watching them in person. With nachos in hand. I only watch a few teams on TV and I certainly never read blogs about them.
But this was my favorite team.
My college alma mater. And I may not be as school spirit crazy as the town I grew up in, I do like my college and their team and even r…

this time a year ago

A year ago. Wasn’t a good season for me. There were a handful of things going on. None of which were too terribly awful personally but I was struggling in lots of places. With questions. With relationships. With my job. With my dreams.  With not quite fitting. With trying to be more like the person I wanted to be but not quite sure who that was. And there were too many things going on to really process or fall apart or even be sad. I just got through.  We went to swimming lessons. I got coffee. I read lots of books. And found my tennis shoes and ran it out.

And a lot of has happened in a year. Sort of. I mean when I look back my life still ultimately looks the same. But I can still look back and see a turning point sometime around May. I’m not sure what kind of turn or where I am headed. But a turn. And occasionally I ran too fast down one direction. And have since backtracked a little. But ultimately things have been different ever since.
And I think a lot of that happened on my friend B…