Here's How

Today I found out that not everyone knows how to comment on a blog post. So as soon as I got home from the gym, I had to make this tutorial video. So of course my hair looks awesome. And I have no remains of sweat on my face at all. Plus, my computer is located in a dark corner of my living room, so my face is shadowed and makes me look like a creeper.



In other news, a certain single person I know said this today, "I've decided to put more value in my middle finger as of recent, instead of my ring finger. It has more promise at the moment of getting used."  Because sometimes boys are headaches.

Also, today at school I saw Drew with a black marker during independent reading time. I asked what he was doing. He said his magazine had some bad stuff in it so he wanted to get rid of it. I told him to bring the magazine to me and I'd censor it for him. It was National Geographic. It was full of saggy boobs, butt cheeks, and man parts. I drew underwear on one picture, then continued to flip through the pages. There was way too much. I hung on to the magazine and told Drew I would prefer if he just took the magazine home, as I didn't think it was appropriate for school. Drew then said, "Yeah, I think you're right. It's more like for sixth grade." This is what children today believe. Be worried.

Egg hunt for middle-aged people

It's not too late to plan an Easter egg hunt for the middle-aged people in your family! Here's how.

Tear, Erase, Delete My Words

The actions of a ten-year-old should not affect me so deeply, but they do.

I realize that not many people put such high value on written words like I do, but I feel like written words are the finest gems given to us. When someone takes the time to write me a meaningful sticky note, e-mail, or hand written letter, I hold it dear to my heart. Words are my currency. And when I write words to people, I consider them diamonds. Maybe this makes me sound haughty, “My words are diamonds.” But that is the value I hold on them. If I write you a message, I think about each sentence. I give you not a piece of paper ripped out of a notebook, but a piece of my heart taken from the pages of my soul. My written words are the most precious thing I have. Other people have talents, gifts, qualities, or skills that they are fiercely protective of, but to me, the written word is the most special thing I can give.

That is why I am hurt so deeply when I see my words torn, erased, or deleted--especially when it is done right in front of me. I completely understand that other people don’t know how strongly I feel, but when I see the words that I wrote destroyed, then that is a piece of my heart that has been rejected. I feel like diamonds were given and then run through a grinder.

I have not taken enough child psychology courses to figure this thing out. He’s mad at me when I don’t recognize him for doing well; he asks for me to notice that he is being good. But when I recognize that, he sabotages himself. He won’t work for the good alone. He must do something bad first and then redeem himself by doing good.

This is not how redemption is supposed to work.

These past months have been such a test of sharing God’s love. I am tested daily, hourly--every minute in fact. I fail often. I want this child to know that I will still like him and show kindness even if he does wrong. I tell him I don’t want to be mad at him. I think to myself, “I can’t recognize his efforts in front of the class because he ruins himself afterward, so I will use the sword of love that I was gifted with--my written words.”

Sword of love, you ask? Yes. Yes, love is a battle. Sometimes loving others is easy, and other times it is not. It’s then that you have to take the sword of love that God armed you with so that you can cut through the vines that have wrapped around the body of the person you are trying to reach.

I wrote him words. They weren’t even quite diamond words, because I knew they would be too rich for him to accept. I just wrote him Sapphire words. Short, clean, simple. But with sincerity and a sparkle, you know? And what did he do? He tore them up in front of my face.

It wasn’t done in an intentionally  mean way. No, he was laughing it off and making jokes. I wonder, what was he thinking on the inside of that ten-year-old head? Was it too hard for him yet? Realizing that his teacher still cares about him, even though she gets upset at him on a daily basis? How could such a thing be true?

It’s God’s love and only God’s love. I have gone through a terrible battle to get to this place. And it’s not over. The bombs keep on dropping, the snipers keep on shooting, the poisonous gas keeps permeating the air that I breathe. I want so desperately for it to be over, but I know that the battle will continue, because I have only just begun to learn how to fight.

Diamond words are my sword, and they arm me at both sides. I will cut through the mess to show you love. 

My rabbit laid an Easter egg on our field trip!

I sort of feel like I have fallen out of the blogosphere. I don't want to post just for the sake of posting, but I don't want you to feel like I've forgotten about you, either. I haven't.

Here are some super speedy updates that you might not care about but whatever:

1) I'm seriously considering getting a house rabbit. I've wanted one for about four years, and considering I could totally get one if I wanted since I have my own house now, I should. I might get one on May 21st, because that day there is a rabbit show in a nearby town. I'm cool, right? I was in 4-H when I was a kid, too. And I wore overalls from Land's End.

2) I want to thank the relatives in my life for all the fun Easter egg hunts they planned for me and my cousins. So this year I am planning an Easter egg hunt for the middle-aged. I know you know about this already if you ever glance at my Twitter or Facebook updates. But in case you shun that sort of thing, and you think you're too cool for reading people's lame updates, I'll tell you again. I am getting brightly colored eggs (because a lot of the middle-aged relatives need glasses), and I am filling them with a variety of vitamins instead of jelly beans. I might put other middle-age appropriate items in the eggs as well, such as raisins or coupons. It's important to the middle-aged that they get their fiber and save their pennies for retirement.


If you are middle-aged, I hope you are not offended. People love you even though you are getting older. In fact, I appreciate my middle-aged relatives now more than ever. They're still fun! Plus they tell me a lot more things now that I'm older.


3) My students and I are going on our first field trip of the year. We only go on two. We are a poor school, in case you were wondering. It's quite sad, yes I know. Our field trip is this Thursday. Pray for sunshine and no rain. It's a pioneer themed field trip, since right now we are studying the Oregon Trail. Should I wear my bonnet and petticoats?


4) I just adore you. Even if I don't know that you read this. I adore anyone who reads my writing. I love it more when my readers tell me that they read my blog. I won't ever think you are a stalker or a creeper for reading. Unless you start following me around in your car when I get off of work. Otherwise, I wouldn't blog if I didn't want people to read it! Duh. I have another blog that is super secret that I don't like people to read. It's called My Diary. You can not read it at www.joellesdiary.com

Mane Therapy

This post is about conditioner and hair and combs, so if you're a guy, you probably won't be interested. Unless of course you are Uncle Jesse/John Stamos or Billy Ray Cyrus. 

If you're my best friend Natalie, you know how much I whine about having to brush my hair. I think having dreadlocks would be the most convenient, though I don't think I could really pull them off. It's no joke that my new year's resolution was to comb my hair everyday. I had a checklist and everything. Sometimes it wouldn't get checked. I felt guilty because God has blessed me with so much hair and here I was complaining about it. I mean, I've got enough hair for three people*. I typically have my hair cut short (just above shoulder length or like ear length), but I've been liking it longer lately. Longer hair means you have to comb it. Blah.

Right now I feel like my hair and I have finally united as one, and we have formed a loving, respectful relationship with one another. Here is the therapy that helped us work through our problems:

From left to right
Palmer's Extra Virgin Olive Oil replenishing conditioner. I'm really glad I chose the extra virgin olive oil instead of the extra slutty olive oil. I don't like conditioners that sleep around.

Suave kids Detangling spray in double dutch apple

Yes, there is an octopus on the bottle. And he's jumping rope. But seriously, this stuff is AMAZING. Combing my hair is not such a battle anymore. It's more like like a tiff between an old married couple.

Suave dry shampoo spray

I've quit washing my hair every day. It mostly started out of laziness and desire to sleep. After I found out I could get away with it, I decided to push my limits and once I went three days without washing my hair.The third day is the day I used the dry shampoo. Where was this stuff when I went camping all those times in high school? Plus it smells delicious. 

Smooth 'N Shine Polishing instant repair spray-on polisher

I spray this on definitely the first day of freshly washed hair, and probably the bottom half on the second day. It makes hair shiny and smooth.

picks in a variety of sizes and colors

I used to just have one black pick, which came with the hair dryer that I bought in 1999. No joke. I keep the big pick in the bathroom and use it to comb my hair in the morning. I keep the medium pick in the shower and use it to comb through the conditioner that I put in my hair. I keep the smallest pick in my purse and use it when I'm bored at stop lights. Carrying a comb in a purse is a big deal for me--I've never done it before. Last time I used it, I was waiting for my gas tank to fill up at the 76. This makes hair combing less tedious, because I'm wasting time anyway.

*By the way, when my sister and I played Lion King when we were kids, I got to be Simba because I had such a lion mane. Jess was Rafiki. You know, because her butt was blue.

Good Wife/Bad Wife

It's quite debatable whether or not I'm suitable for marriage, though the usefulness of man has recently become apparent to me through observations of my brother-in-law, cousin, and my friend Leslie's husband. More on them in section two.

This post is going to be divided up into three sections:
*Why I would be a bad wife
*The usefulness of man
*Why I would be a good wife

Why I would be a bad wife

Point 1
I buy what I like

Well readers, you know how just prior to spring break I posted all those photos of my house and gave you a home tour? After that I decided to make some domestic improvements, and on the second to last day of break I went out and dropped a wad of Jacksons on a new vacuum, living room rug, and pillows. Here are pictures.

This rug doesn't shed like the white wool one I had from Ikea.

I think these pillows are darling.

I really love my new rug and pillows. I mean, the old ones were okay, but I love these ones. I think it's important to own things you really love and to get rid of what you don't like. Anyway, so after coming home and unloading the goods, I thought to myself "boy, it's a good thing I'm not married or else my husband would be mad at me right now for spending all that money." I felt guilty for a bit. Then I realized if I were married, that means I would have had a bridal shower/wedding presents, and I wouldn't have had to buy all this stuff myself, because I fully would've registered for all of it. So my imaginary husband couldn't be mad at me.

Point 2
I suck at doing laundry

About two weeks ago my friend Natalie was over when I was doing laundry, and I made an aggravated comment about how I just discovered a tissue completely torn up and stuck to all my clean clothes. This makes me very upset, because I really do check all the pockets first. Natalie said to me, "this whole tissues-in-your-laundry-thing happens to you more than anyone else I know." I was a tiny bit offended because that makes me sound careless--also, like I have a super snotty nose, which I don't.

I thought to myself "surely this doesn't happen to me every time I wash clothes." Well folks, today I went to put my wet laundry in the dryer and noticed bits of Kleenex stuck to about everything. Why, God, why? I checked the pockets. I swear what happens is that the Laundry Gremlin who lives behind the dryer sneaks out and just drops tissues into the washer as it's going, just to spite me. Laundry Gremlin got bored of stealing socks, so he decided sabotaging an entire load of dark clothes would be more effective. If I had a husband, I think he'd be really mad about the whole torn-tissue-stuck-to-his-black-pants thing. But I always pick the stuff off before putting the clothes away. I'm dedicated to correcting my errors so that nobody knows they ever happened--sshh.

Point 3
I never cook
I was starving after church yesterday, so when I came home I went straight to the kitchen. I found my roommate in there cooking. As I started to get provisions out of the fridge, she says to me "do you need to cook something?" Because you know, she was taking up the stove space with her noodles and sauce and who-knows-what. I said "no, I think I'll just zap something." This lead to her asking "how often do you actually cook?" I had my nose in the fridge looking for the salsa while I thought about it. I replied, "Ummm, well...pretty much...never." I was quick to add "But I baked cookies yesterday!" While it's true that I do not often dirty a pot or pan, I enjoy baking up a storm for a good purpose.


The usefulness of man

Point 1
They fix your house

So last week my sister and brother-in-law had to rip out their shower due to a crack and install a new one. I went over to inspect their progress. When I got there, I was shocked to find my sister sitting on the couch watching TV while Travis, my cousin, and Travis' brother were putting in the new tub. I was surprised because my sister is very much the "I can build it myself/fix it" kind of girl. If the boys weren't there, she totally would have been helping her husband through it all. After I walked in, I said, "Have you just been sitting here the whole time? Not doing anything?" She told me, "Well, pretty much. But I did have to go to Home Depot three times." So essentially the men folk just tell her what they need her to buy, she buys it, brings it back, and they put it in. I reflected upon the men doing all the hard labor and said, "Geez, I need one of those," like they're a Ken doll you can just pick up in the toy aisle of Target.

Point 2
They carry heavy stuff

Last month I went on a church retreat with my friends Kaitlynn and Leslie. When Kaitlynn and I got to Leslie's house, the front door opened and I said to the person who was hiding behind the luggage, "Do you want me to carry anything for you?" And then I realized the person carrying all the cargo was not Leslie, but her husband Kaleb. "Oh, never mind." Leslie came down the stairs shortly after, carrying a smaller load. The fact that a person's husband would be nice enough to carry his wife's gear down the stairs, up the street, and to the car amazes me. I don't even think Leslie had to whine about it. I think Kaleb just did it. Because you know what I would've pictured? This:
WIFE: Hey honey, my ride is here for the retreat.
HUSBAND: (while watching TV or playing video games) Okay Sweetie. Have a nice time. See ya later.
WIFE: Love you! (struggles down stairs with bags)
Thanks to Leslie and Kaleb, I now have a different scenario in my head. They're cute together.

Point 3
They help you when you need it

Last week my mailbox stand needed to get fixed, and my overgrown winter lawn needed to be mowed. I wasn't too excited about attempting to fix the mailbox stand, because the use of a saw was required. My cousin Jason nicely offered to fix it for me. Then on Friday I was out cutting my grass with my 1950s style grass cutter, but the job was overwhelming since it hadn't been mowed since November. It was practically knee high. I texted my cousin and he came over after class to help me. By help me, I mean he put his lawn mower in the back of his truck, drove to my house, and cut everything down. It was beyond awesome.

Why I would be a good wife
1) I'd take back the rug and beautiful pillows if he asked me.
2) I'd love him enough to pick the Kleenex remnants off his laundry. Even if it were his fault.
3) I can bake cupcakes and cookies.
4) If he wanted me to cook food in an actual pot or pan, I would learn. And I don't mean the "oh, it's passable" kind of cooking. I mean, if his meals were that important to him, then I would learn to cook well. If I put in the effort to learn how to do something, I want to be the best I can at it.
5) I'm really good at saving money and getting my bills paid on time.
6) I would brag about how awesome he is on this blog.
7) I can get ready in ten minutes.
8) I'm not super needy. Or even needy. If he wants to leave for a week to go visit friends in Colorado, whatever. If he's going to Italy he'd better take me with him, because that boot is still on my list. And I really want to ride a Vespa.
9) My kitchen is very clean 98% of the time. Husbands might not think that they care about this sort of thing, but they do. Or at least mine better, because my clean kitchen is what I have going for me right now.
10) I could write words to make a grown man cry. And I'm not talking tons of mushy sap; I'm talking words that shake, shatter, or move your soul because you are so incredibly loved. Not to sound haughty, but I write better love letters than Cupid ever could. No man has ever received such a letter from me, but if one ever does, he'll be wishing I left the Kleenex remnants stuck to his black sweatshirt because at least then he'd have something to dab his waterlogged eyes with.

Talking Smack

I stumbled across this blog called Chelsea Talks Smack. I am incredibly fascinated by her crazy life. What I appreciate about this girl is that she is bold and honest and tells it like it is. 

I don't agree with everything she says or the manner in which she chooses to say it, but she does have gems tucked in with the sharp, jagged rocks. Chelsea does not blog often, but my favorite thing that she has written so far is this:

Assemble a "tribe," every person in it should have their special skills; the friend who opens your eyes, the one who will say "yes," without asking why, the one who has wit that keeps you on your toes, the one who will nurture, the one who will teach, inspire, or defend- a "tribe" has to be DYNAMIC otherwise you'll never survive a winter, a war, a birth, a restoration, or a victory together. REFUSE TO BE ONE DIMENSIONAL.

 I'm gonna warn you about this girl. She talks smack. She uses the f bomb quite frequently. You could very well be offended by reading any of her posts. There's something about them though, that makes you want to read more. It's like hiding under the covers at night and reading with a flashlight while your heart is beating out of your chest because you think your mom's going to catch you.

Here are some fascinating and possible offensive links:


We are going to starve. Or live of off M&Ms.

Remember that time you got arrested?

Love and all the crusty pieces.