a lesson on words

After you read this, you are going to think that I am anal retentive. You're right; I am. And in case you were also wondering where the term "anal retentive" comes from, basically it's a Freudian theory that when you were a kid, you struggled to take a dump. Learn more about it here.

The lesson
The word is eavesdropping, not ease dropping. This word comes from the idea that the eavesdropper would be listening at the edge of someone's house, perhaps by a window. Specifically, they would be under the eavesdrop, which is the area around a house or building which receives the rain water dropping from the eaves.

Accept is a verb meaning to receive. "I accept your marriage proposal."
Except is a preposition meaning excluding.  "You are a great boyfriend, except for the fact that you misuse words."

Affect is a verb meaning to influence. "The medicine did not affect me in any way. I was still coughing up my left lung."
Effect is a noun meaning result. "The effect of the medicine was minimal." You cannot have an effect without a cause.


It's prima donna, not pre-Madonna. Prima donna is Italian for leading lady and when used as an insult, it implies the person is egotistical or demanding. Don’t write “pre-Madonna” unless you intend to discuss the era before the singer Madonna became popular.

Than is used in comparisons. "I would rather gouge my eyes out than look at misused words."
Then denotes time. "I read Joelle's anal retentive blog post, and then I stopped making terrible language errors."

Now you will probably scrutinize everything I spell from now on and point out my errors. Please do so immediately. When I read old posts and find spelling errors, I just want to shrivel up and die. It's so embarrassing. I'm like, "how many hundreds of people have read this and now think I am a moron?"

Although I am trying to educate you right now on proper uses of certain words, I will admit to you, I CAN NEVER GET THE FOLLOWING CORRECT:

Lie, Lay:

Lie is an intransitive verb meaning to recline or rest on a surface. Its principal parts are lie, lay, lain. Lay is a transitive verb meaning to put or place. Its principal parts are lay, laid.

Hint: Chickens lay eggs. I lie down when I am tired.

Wait, what? The chicken will lay eggs, the chicken lays eggs, the chicken has lain eggs? Or laid eggs? I never know. I will lie down, I am lying down, I have lain down? It sounds weird to me. I admit I have no idea. I avoid using the different tenses of this word in writing. My parents never use this word correctly, so I never learned it either. Thank heavens I at least learned that "sandwich" is not pronounced "sow-winch" like it was in my native house-hold tongue.

Easter Aftermath

Maybe you have been wondering how my middle-aged Easter egg hunt went. It was a whole week ago, I know. Sadly, not all my aunts and uncles were able to attend our Easter meal, but I still had four middle-aged folk to send on the hunt. It rained in an un-happy way after we ate, so the cousins and I hid the eggs inside the house. I was blessed that my dear friend Natalie joined my family for Easter this year, and she helped hide the eggs in a stealthy manner. I didn't tell any of the middle-aged people that this hunt was especially designed for them, and I didn't tell them what were in the eggs until afterward. I didn't want them to be offended before they even started.

Here's a photo of my sister Jessamy, me, my cousin Morgan, and my dear friend Natalie. My arm is awkwardly around my sister, like I'm gonna put her in a headlock.

My cousins and I tested our parents' eyesight, agility, and speed with the way we hid those eggs. We hid some eggs in places that we thought were really obvious, because we wanted to see just how good of seekers our parents were. The entire hunt lasted about nine minutes, and then I was pleased to give everyone a Ziploc baggy with a "Guide to your Easter Eggs" inside, so they'd know what the different sorts of pills were. Here is a video for your enjoyment.

In case you were curious, this is what the slip of paper said:

Guide to Your Easter Eggs

An activity specially designed for the middle aged!

 Orange eggs—boost your immune system with some Vitamin C!

 Purple eggs—fiber is important for your age group. Help things along with some raisins. Yum. Raisins also help protect against Macular Degeneration (losing your eyesight).

 Green eggs—here’s your sugar allowance!

 Yellow eggs—Remember sitting on the porch swing and eating a Werther’s original hard candy? Good, because I don’t. Hope this evokes some nostalgia like the commercials say.

 Pink eggs—did you get a tummy ache from your sugar binge? Have a Tums.

 Blue eggs—Aches and pains getting you down? Pop an aspirin. Also, remember to be saving up your pennies for retirement. Do this with the help of coupons.

The hunt was a big hit, and I'm pretty sure we will remember it for a long time. I just wish my Gram and other relatives could have been there.

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.

A moment of Inception

I'm sitting on the couch in the living room and my sister Jess is with me. She starts to get up and go to the hallway. I say to her, "Hey, Jess. What if this is all a dream, like the movie Inception?"
She says to me, "Yeah, but it's not."
I agree with her. "I know. When I'm dreaming, everything is not normal at all. Either my vision is blurred, or weird animals chase me, or I'm flying. So I know when I'm in a dream."
Jess nods and I go back to studying for both tests I have tomorrow (Math and Spanish). Before I know it, I start to get sleepy and I doze off.

Quite soon, I start to fly around. And wouldn't you know it, someone needs rescuing. They always do. I'm only ever the one person who can fly, so when something is chasing me and whomever I'm with, I've got to pick them up and fly with them, which is not easy. It takes a lot more strength and concentration to fly when you are carrying somebody. And geez, we're always getting chased.

Pretty soon we get to the main street going down the college campus, and we've stopped flying. For some reason a ton of police cars and ambulances drive by, and we can't cross the road. Then we get half way across the road and I see why there was such a commotion. Someone has a gun. And it's pointed right at me. But this is a dream, where everything just gets worse. Suddenly I cannot even more. I try really hard to move me feet, but I can't.

Then my eyes pop open. I've been dreaming. I knew that. Then when I see how dark it is, I think "Oh crap! I fell asleep and didn't study for my tests!" I look to see what time it is. 5:15am. I realize that wait a minute, I actually went to bed on purpose. I'm supposed to be sleeping. Then I think a second longer. I do not have a math or Spanish test tomorrow. I am a teacher. I teach school.

Next I have a shocking realization. All of that before part where I was in the living room talking normally to my sister was all a dream. And the part where I was flying was a dream within a dream. As I am really awake, I think more about the first dream. I was at my old house that I grew up in, and no one lives there now. So obviously that wasn't real. I was studying for a high school math and Spanish test, and I'm no longer in high school. I totally thought that all of that was real, because it was so normal, but it wasn't. It was all pretend.

This freaks me out, because usually when I think about "Is this a dream?" I'm able to recognize that yes, it is a dream. Because weird sh*t happens. And I just know.

I fall back to sleep but continue to enter dreams. This time, I know it. For example, when the shadow of a relative is about to attack me when I'm flying, I pop my eyes open in real life just as they get to me. Saved myself from that one. But I am so sleepy that I instantly fall back into a dream state. My enemy is gone, but I'm still flying. I'm wearing a nightgown and I'm flying vertically into the sky like a rocket, which is weird, because I typically fly horizontally (no wing flapping necessary). I'm in the dark sky which is dotted with stars, and the moon is glowing bright. My nightgown flies up into my face and my bare skin begins to catch the breeze. I get cold and pop my eyes open in real life. That ended. But it wasn't so bad.

When I awoke for the last time this morning at 7:02, I started to think about all the snippets of dreams that I could remember from the past eight hours. I remember a rodeo, and a tunnel, a theater, saving a girl, listening to a concert, rain at a wedding, the forest of my old house, retrieving a secret file and throwing it up in the sky towards a vortex...

I realize that I am going to have to become one of those hippy weirdos who drink strange juices and tell people about their dreams on the radio. I've got to go to the library and read every dream book I can get my hands on. Because I need to be able to control this. I do not like the way that 98% of my dreams go, because I am always being chased by something evil. Yes, I enjoy the flying part, but it's not worth it. So I am setting out on a mission to figure out my subconscious. The mind is a miraculous thing. Surely this can be tapped.

If you have any sort of advice, please share. I mean, where's Leonardo DiCaprio when you need him? And Ellen Page, will you please build my dream?

I've already read a few things on-line, and apparently that spinning top thing that happened in Inception isn't totally bunk. I read about how you need to train you brain up, and ask yourself when you are awake "Is this a dream?" and then instead of saying "duh, no it's not," you are supposed to check a clock quickly, then check it again. Or you read some text real fast, and then look at it again. Apparently if you do this often enough (which makes you a weirdo, questioning reality and what not), then you will begin to do this in your dream. In the dream, when you check the clock the second time, allegedly a large chunk of time always passes, so you know it's a dream. Or if you read the text a second time, the words change. I'm going to try this. So next time you see me, you can say "hey Joelle, is this a dream?" and you can watch how I respond.

Obviously I need a psychotherapist. Aren'tcha glad you know me?

Burger Shack Shock

I'm sitting in the back seat of the car, fearing for my life, feeling like I might throw up the Portebello stuffed mushroom I just ate. My cousin flips a U-ie in front of the train tracks, and I think to myself  "how on earth did this kid make it back alive from California?"

3.5  hours earlier
 After being absent from Friday Night Dinners for a whole month, I re-joined the gang the other night. I got picked up at my house at seven by my cousin Jason and his girlfriend Heidi. Then we went over two blocks to my sister's house and picked her and The Trav up. While Heidi and I waited in the driveway for Jason to collect the rest of the family, I was informed by Heidi that my sister and fake brother were ripping out their shower and toilet. News to me.

"Wait, wait. You are telling me that my sister and Travis are ripping out their shower right now?"
"Um, I think they're doing it tomorrow. But it's happening."
"Alright, so tomorrow. I'm just wondering if she's gonna ask if she can come over and take a shower. I know she will. Shower replacements are not exactly a one day thing. Home improvement always takes longer than you think it will."

Next Jess, Jason, and Travis get into the car. We start chatting and then Jess says to me, "Are you going to be home tomorrow?" I wait before responding.
I yell up to the front seat,"Hey, Heidi, will you listen to this question that my sister is asking me?"
Heidi turns and looks back at me and Jess.
"Yes, Jess? What was your question?" I say.
"Are you going to be home tomorrow?" She asks again.
"Hmmm, for part of the day. Why do you ask?" Like I don't already know.
"Because maybe I'll have to come over and use the bathroom."
"Ha! I knew it!" I scream. Heidi and I high-five each other.
My sister is so predictable. I don't have a problem with her coming over to use my bathroom, except that I will have to leave a key somewhere since I might be gone. But I know how to play my cards.
"Well, Jess. I do need my mailbox to be fixed."
Side note: I got a message in my mailbox from the carrier that my mailbox needs to be moved forward on the board because apparently the door won't open all the way. It's the second notice I've gotten. I'm afraid he'll stop delivering all my fatty checks bills. I was tempted to leave a note for him that said "Sorry, don't have husband, not good with hammer. Will get to this as soon as I find a handy man." I mean, I probably could figure the stupid thing out if I really tried, but I'd also probably end up flattened on the road considering the proximity of the mailbox to a frequently traveled street.

"If you or Travis help me fix my mailbox by 9 pm on Sunday, then I will leave you a key to my house and you can use the bathroom. I'll even make you a nice bubble bath and leave you a fluffy white towel, just like a swanky hotel. Plus I'll light the vanilla candles. It'll be real nice. Wadja say?"

It's 8 pm on Sunday and she hasn't called me to use the potty/shower yet, but there could still be a chance. Today is day two of the re-model and they still don't have it in working order yet. See progress below.

Anyway, so we finally get to the restaurant, which is this really tiny burger shack down town. It's incredibly popular, and as I eye it up, I realize there is no way the five of us are gonna fit in there. And it's not even like I take up a lot of space.

Travis is really determined to get a burger from this place because he wanted to go for his birthday dinner last week but the combined family of 12 couldn't fit then either. We wait around for 25 minutes (outside in the cold because there is no standing space) and look at the menu. Once we are seated, we know exactly what to order.

We start to draw on the table with crayons because that's what you do at this place. They place a giant sheet of brown paper on your table and you doodle. If you are a really good artist or draw an image depicting how much you love their burgers, then they keep your doodle and hang it up on the wall.

As we are eating, the boys start to talk about finances. Jess and Travis tell Jason about how they keep their money separate even though they are married, an intriguing idea that I wrote more about here. I tell Jason and Heidi that I think that is weird, and if they ever marry each other, they should not have separate accounts. But what do I know? I'm not the married person who has to mesh finances with another person. I know it causes headaches for many people. So Jason is kinda getting riled up about the issue, because he does manage his money well, but Heidi wants him to become more educated on the matter.
Jason says in an upset tone, "She wants me to go to some dumb Davey Crockett class."

I burst out laughing even before Heidi corrects him and says, "Dave Ramsey."
I find it incredibly hilarious that Jason has made this error. Unfortunately, this joke is only funny to people who know who Dave Ramsey is. Thus, no one else at my table is laughing with me. In case you didn't know, Dave Ramsey is a financial guru that gives pretty good advice and goes around giving seminars. He also has written books. Learn more about him here.

We talk a bit more and Heidi says, "the first order of business is to get a nice, sparkling diamond on this finger." She holds up her left hand. "Then we'll discuss the rest of it."
This leads to the subject of college debt, whereupon Jason says, "My deal is we can't get married till she has college paid off." (Heidi is 19 and about half way through college).
Heidi scoffs and says, "Yeah right, you can't keep it in your pants that long."
At which point I double over laughing.
Those kids. They crack me up. Here, this part is for the two of you: finish college before you get married, spend carefully, and keep it in your pants.

Here is Heidi loving her burger. Notice the bare finger. All in good time.

We love to eat and talk smack.

Pretty soon we are about the last table still in the joint, so we pay and leave. We all pile into the car again and Jason starts to drive us home to our deaths. We're waiting at a red light for about forever, so Travis gets out of the car and hits the walk signal so that our light will turn green. His plan doesn't work quickly enough though, and Jason gets annoyed and turns right instead. Right into a one way street, which has another car coming up it. 
"Oh shit!" he yells, and does an erratic turn to go straight (through the red light). Only just as he goes straight, the signal turns green, making it legal. The car makes it down about two streets and then Jason sees a train ahead of us and the crossing rails down. We watch and the train slows to a practical stop. It's not going anywhere for a long time. Patience is a virtue. Some people don't have it. Just as another car is about to pull up behind us, Jason floors the gas then hits the breaks and makes a U-turn right in front of the train tracks. He starts driving in the other direction looking for a street that the train hasn't blocked.

His passengers comment on his driving skills.
"What're you talking about? I just got back from driving in California. This is what they do all the time," Jason reasons.
"Well, you are back in Oregon now," we tell him.

We manage to drive quite far in the opposite direction of our collective homes when we find a place where we can cross. It's then that someone points out that we could have gone up the street instead and gone the other way, resulting in a faster and more direct route. But whatever. Jason makes up for lost time.

I tell him he better not pull any more funny business because I am sitting right behind him and will puke on his head if he does.

I make it home alive. I will also probably drive myself next week.

Beautiful Loser

Sweet potatoes do I have some good stuff to tell you! That visit to Gram's house was outrageous. But this post isn't about that. I'm waiting for Grace to send me some of the photos she took. There will be an entire post dedicated to all the funny things Gram did and said; it'll just have to wait a few days. Believe me though, you'll crack a rib laughing.

Today I'm not going to give you my original content, and I'm not going to try to make you laugh. Hopefully your soul will smile instead. I want to share with you all the beautiful, raw, transparent, or inspiring things I've seen or read recently. After reading through the things I share with you below, I realized how I am just one insignificant, pathetic, beautiful loser. I'm not really going to go into what that means right now. Just read everything, all of it. It's worth it. 

  "People were created  to be loved. Things were created to be used. The reason the world is in chaos is because things are being loved and people are being used."

  

I've praised Lauren Nicole Love (Lauren Lankford) on here before because of her raw and truthful writing, and I've got more to share. Basically, if you don't read Lauren, you should. Even when Lauren was in a dark place in her life, she still wrote some beautiful things. She dug this post up from the past, and here is the tail end of it:

"Go back to your alternate universe. You’ll function out of habit enough to make it through life, but get your mind out of this, here, now, because this, THIS, is all just shit. Think about beautiful things, make beautiful things, create stories, novels, wishes, dreams, hopes, make-believe. Be over dramatic if that’s what you want. Stop boring the entire world with trying to get your shit together enough to be normal. I can’t, I try, it makes it worse. I want to NOT FIGHT the tendency to be addicted and STOP TRYING to do ‘all things in moderation.’ Be addicted. Be consumed. Just CHOOSE THE RIGHT ADDICTION. Choose what is beautiful. Choose what is worth it."

Also, Lauren shared this on her Tumblr.

Lauren also writes for A Deeper Story where she posted a piece of truth. All I can say is, Love was the plan. I think you should read it here. Because your love is broken. What kind of love do you give when she calls after six months of silence, asking for a favor? How much love do you give when he doesn't call on your birthday? You pick and choose, and your love is broken. But love was the plan.

Another thing I think is beautiful is the Daily Letter. It's worth eight minutes of your time to visit it and read a few past letters.

Max Dubinsky is another person who writes transparently. He is raw and tells you all the dirt. Like, for example, we are the scum of the earth. As the pastor at my church said last week, the truth is offensive. Indeed, it is. You will be offended by the truth. But it still needs to be told. Have you been offended by this post yet?

Max has a lot on his mind.

Max is traveling across America in a beat up Nissan and no money looking for God's love. He has just started his journey, so it's not too late to catch up on how it's going. Because it's going terribly. Read him here.

He ends his latest post by saying:
"We are often afraid to start living because we’re afraid our story won’t turn out to be about us. How devastating would that be? Maybe though, just maybe, that’s the point.  Maybe that’s why you don’t have a story to tell.  Because it’s always been about you. Could it be that your story is meant to be for someone’s glory other than you? Your story is going to be the greatest story ever told. Are you living it, or just killing time?"

My Wrap-Up

I am a beautiful loser who has lost everything. In truth, I started with nothing. But everything I thought was mine I've lost. You know what, though? It is good. I am a loser and it is good. Being a loser means that you lose. Lose it all. Your pride, your life, your selfishness. Matthew 17:24 Then Jesus said to his disciples, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it." Are you a beautiful loser?