Coup de Grace

coup de grace ("blow of mercy") means
a death blow to end the suffering of a wounded creature.

Act 3, Final Scene

Five.

That's how many drafts I have waiting to post. Revised, edited, rewritten over and over. Every time I go back they become more and more dull and lifeless. My postings, more and more sporadic. It is a sign.

I keep coming back to this place. Beating the horse, "Hey dude, is there life left in you? Are you gonna get up? Are you sure you're dead? Cause I think ya got a few more miles in ya." Ugh. "Don't be dead. Come on!", and then I kick it, because I want it to live.

How many times have I circled this mountain? Once? Twice? Now again?

I feel like such a flake. Do I have no stick-to-it-ive-ness? For once, I'd like to just make a decision and stay with it. But I'm so weak. Y'all say things to me like, "I'm gonna miss you", and "I miss your blog", and "You're so awesome it's stupefying!" Well, not so much that last one but I would totally be okay with it... What I'm saying to you is my co-dependence on your comments disables me.

Plainly, it's your fault.

Oh! But I've been so bored with my own writing lately I want to chew off my own arm and throw it into an abyss of death the next time I see one.

Every time I've done this (quit... not chew off my arm), it has been with good reason. Very good, legitimate reason (like responsible time management), (although the chewing can be easily justified, too) and still I find my way back. Maybe it's like peeling an onion? One layer at a time... God knows that to rip it away all at once would be too grievous for me, His tender little onion blossom.

Dang it though! I'm gonna miss it here... even though I've been so utterly lame lately. So lame it bruises me and crushes my very soul. Every time I look through my old posts, I wonder, what has happened to me? I used to be better at this! Is this God's way of causing me to let it go? This gradual dulling of my mind, my posts increasingly tedious -- increasingly boring.

Unsuitable.

Flat.

Whether or not that's by Design, I can't say, but it does make walking away more easily done, even if only slightly more easily done. Disobedience to this inner leading though could only mean more of the same lame that deteriorates into more and more lame. Who wants to continue that kind of legacy? And besides, my ego can't take that.

I'll tell you what this is about. God is totally gunning for me. He is trying to kill me. It's true. I'm not making that up and it's not a Conspiracy Theory. (See for yourself: Jn 12:24) I never want to sacrifice blogging. This is the thing I hold to with the most tenacity. I WANT TO KEEP THIS THING!

I can't say for certain why I feel God leading me here. I can't articulate the reason except to say I feel it has something to do with death to self, and also faithfulness to follow through with what I hear God saying to me in this moment, whether I "get it" or not. (See Rom 12:1-2)

I'm trying to think of some spiritually awesome analogy for y'all, to paint you a beautiful word picture, but all my brain will give me is this:

My acorn of a blog is entering the Fall
and then after that, the Winter,
where it will go down, down, down into the dark soil,
buried for a little while in the quiet darkness,
seen only by God and the worms.
There, God will do things to it and maybe one day
it will grow into a beautiful oak tree (down) by the river.

I'll wait while you get your tissues 'cause that was moving, right there. I just know it blessed your heart.

I hope that while I'm gone, y'all don't write anything awesome. If you do, email me the link okay, because I don't want to be the last to know. That would be like the Three Amigos... when one (that would be me) goes off to the bathroom and the others (the rest of you) have a secret meeting without him (me).

(If you're liking that little bit of genius Three Amigos prose right there, well, watch The Office more often and you can hear gems like that from Michael Scott, the little buttercup himself; and then you can gank them from him like I did just there.)

So I guess this is my swan song, my coup de grace, until God releases me and I can write something that isn't loathsome trash. Hopefully that release will come relatively soon. Meantime, y'all promise to miss me okay?, and email me some time. I like the social aspect of the internet very much. Y'all are my friends, and I miss you already. (PS -- You don't have to say you're proud of me. Just pray for me, because this is really hard.)

(heavy sigh)

Exit Stage Left

Curtains

I bet I could eat all those doughnuts in one sitting and other random thoughts.

1. Please share one middle school memory. It can be good, bad, ugly, funny. Pictures or words, I don't care, just share.
Middle School... that would be 7th and 8th Grade? Those were the worst of all my school years. Those were the years I was in serious emotional trouble; a danger to myself. I hated my life in every way.

• I spent several class periods in the Guidance Counselor's Office, dodging PE and also, brooding and sulking.
• I obsessed over, pined after and lost my identity in a thug (who I thought was so fine!) who had no interest in me. That's the year I learned the meaning of the word "unrequited" and also "infatuation".
• I wasn't good at putting on make-up (but still snuck the little bit I'd gotten from my mom or stolen from Wal-Mart into my backpack so I could apply it at school since I wasn't yet allowed to wear it.)

I was in trouble, y'all.

I know that's a heavy starter but it was that, or you know, lie.

2. What's your favorite Beatles song?

I like the Beatles.
Especially,
I'm Looking Through You
When I'm 64
Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da

3. If I asked you to describe your most comfortable outfit, what would it be?

Pajama pants and a baggy t-shirt, but I'm not sure that qualifies as a real "outfit", as in "something I might wear on an outing". If that's what "outfit" means, then I vote for my black knit dress. It's as comfortable as my first choice, only better looking.

4. Would you rather host a party or be a guest?

I enjoy a little of both.

5. Do you think we will move completely from traditional books to digital ones, and if we do, are you OK with that?

I should dearly hope not. Digital books do nothing for me. What pleasure is there in reading a book you cannot feel or smell?

6. Do you learn best by reading, listening or experiencing?

I'm tactile. I learn best by touching. I enjoy the other two, but doing something myself is the best way for me to actually remember what I'm learning.

7. If you are (or when you were) single, what is the kiss of death for you concerning the opposite sex? (That is, what is one trait or behavior or habit or anything at all that immediately turns you off from considering that person a potential match for you?)
All of these criteria rose up after I got sober. Before that, let's just say I was less demanding.

A. Violently sucking food out of his teeth
B. Wearing socks with sandals or super-reflective lens sunglasses
C. Acted needy or clingy or seeming desperate in any way
D. Smelling like an ashtray or taking the pot
E. Having snaggleteeth or halitosis

I would date: None of the above.

8. Snacks. Salty or sweet?

I'm weak. I fall for both.

9. Look around you in a four foot radius. What object is around you that you didn't realize was there or forgot was there? How long has it been there?

A bunch of cassette tapes. They've been there for 6 years--as long as we've been in this house. They've been in my possession for years and years though. I keep them because I'm a packrat they provide me with some much-appreciated nostalgia and dust.

10. What is your favorite Tom Cruise movie?

I'm not a fan.

Now Tom Hanks? That's a horse of a different color.

11. You buy a bottle of shampoo and discover that you don't like what it does to your hair at all. What do you do with that full bottle?

Glare at it and scold it for being a selfish and unfeeling waste of my money.

Then I give it away because maybe someone else can benefit from my misstep.

12. Your favorite Fall comfort food?

Warm pie, the orange kind.
You know the ones....The usual suspects. Sweet Potato and Pumpkin.

(leaning in to whisper) Although truth be told, I cannot tell the difference.

Can you?
There's more where this came from. Go to Lid's place to partake.

Happiness is...

Something I recognize in myself is that I find it disturbingly easy to complain about things. I find myself far too easily slanted in that direction, but today I'm thinking happy thoughts about happy things. This is by no means extensive, only a small conglomeration of things that make me supremely and incandescently happy.

WORDS sunshine real whipped cream rainy nights embroidery hoops ribbon velvet simple but unusual jewelry
wire baskets {especially chicken wire}
t-strap mary janes good jeans sweater coats
my first cup of coffee bluebirds springtime {le printemps}
french thrift stores fabric notecards
NESTS shipping tags kraft paper bags COLOR {{glitter}}
baby's breath
{the real deal and the flowers, but especially the real deal}
bunnies the smell of newborn babies
[twig pencils] crafting running outdoors with my iPod
used book sales {Pride & Prejudice}
air mail {par avion}
handwritten notes solitude REAL FRIENDS crowns hobby stores
|red & white stripes| Christmas
my family's belly laughs children's art a good deal snow
finishing a project Mad Libs diagramming sentences
finding the perfect purse
books that make me feel I should read with a British accent
{believing God} well timed jokes
a perfectly situated tree alongside a bubbling brook
cottage gardens
{family togetherness}

What about you?

A Case for Bacon -or- My New Favorite Health Foods

This lady may have just ruined my propensity to diet forever ("propensity", because let's be real, I'm not a consistent dieter, even though I try and I sure think about it a bunch. Does that count for something?).

Cheers! To long life and to bacon!

Status Updates

As you can see, I'm still thinking in status updates. You know what they say about habits--

[Powerful indeed is the empire of habit. (Publilius Syrus said that.)]

Ironically, Publilius was one of the names we considered for our last born.

[Old habits are strong and jealous. (That would be Dorothea Brande.)]

...even Magic Eraser can't help me now. There is more permanent marker on my little one this morning... it'll take a week and miracle to get his arms clean again.

...just realized Grandparent's Day is this weekend - time to start cranking out some sincere handmade cards!

...wishes that when I decide to go on a no-sugar diet, that sugar would suddenly become repulsive to me. Sugar is my unrequited love.

...loves getting new vitamins/supplements in the mail! They make me feel so hopeful.

...just played a little Spelling Bee on The Free Dictionary (nobody's revoking my Nerd Card), and I feel like such a little smarty when I get the expert words right! And then I'm zapped back into reality when I can't even understand the next word's pronunciation. Oh well, I still have the win of my 4th Grade Spelling Bee, where I correctly spelled the impossible word "fraction", and that beautiful trophy of a gold spectacled bee holding a book was in the bag! (I wish I still had it. I would totally rock it as the best bookend ever.)

...is now in favor of human cloning. Two of me has to be better than one. Although... now that I think about it, it's not misery that loves company, but laziness. Two of us would probably do even less than one, so nevermind. Better press on.

Funny is funny because it is TRUE.

I just got this email from one of my favorite friends ever, Melissa. I'm telling you like I told her, I needed this laugh today, lest I run away from home.

It's been a beautiful day. (Now's when that sarcasm font would be handy-dandy.)

Like I said, this was an email, so you know, completely plagiarized.

(I should know because one day, I "plagiarized" one of my parents' signatures on a Disciplinary Action Report, and then I had to write the Webster's full definition of plagiarism pert-near a thousand times.)(I still hate my parents for that one.)

(The actual amount is a bit cloudy, but I still have a pencil groove in my ring finger on my right hand to prove it was a whole HECK of A-Bunch.)

(There went my hand modeling career, like a fart in the wind.)

Anyway, I hate to put off the laughs, so let's move along, shall we?

-I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.

-More often than not, when someone is telling me a story all I can think about is that I can't wait for them to finish so that I can tell my own story that's not only better, but also more directly involves me.

-Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

-How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

-I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

-The only time I look forward to a red light is when I’m trying to finish a text.

- Whenever someone says "I'm not book smart, but I'm street smart", all I hear is "I'm not real smart, but I'm imaginary smart".

-What would happen if I hired two private investigators to follow each other?

- Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

- I find it hard to believe there are actually people who get in the shower first and THEN turn on the water.

-I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

- Bad decisions make good stories.

-Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous? Like I know my name, I know where I'm from, this shouldn't be a problem....

-You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you've made up your mind that you just aren't doing anything productive for the rest of the day.

-I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.

-I hate being the one with the remote in a room full of people watching TV. There's so much pressure. 'I love this show, but will they judge me if I keep it on? I bet everyone is wishing we weren't watching this. It's only a matter of time before they all get up and leave the room. Will we still be friends after this?'

- I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

-When I meet a new girl, I'm terrified of mentioning something she hasn't already told me but that I have learned from some light internet stalking.

-My 4-year old son asked me in the car the other day "Dad what would happen if you ran over a ninja?" How do I respond to that?

-It really ticks me off when I want to read a story on CNN.com and the link takes me to a video instead of text.

-The other night I ordered takeout, and when I looked in the bag, saw they had included four sets of plastic silverware. In other words, someone at the restaurant packed my order, took a second to think about it, and then estimated that there must be at least four people eating to require such a large amount of food. Too bad I was eating by myself. There's nothing like being made to feel like a fatso before dinner.

Laughing must really be good for you, because I just laughed a bunch and now, I'm slightly less twitchy and a little more certain that everything is gonna be OH-KIZ-AY.

The silver lining: Where there's smoke, there is NOT fire.

My house smells atrocious right now.

Atrocious.

I was feeling very domestic earlier and set supper to start on the stove and decided to bake some egg-free sugar cookies for my allergy ridden family to enjoy.

(Actually, only the baby has the egg allergy but earlier in the week, I made chocolate chip cookies that he was denied so I was feeling bad for him.)

Supper was to be bean burritos, but I had to cook the dry beans first. I set them to boil, added some water a bit later as I saw the level dropping and then headed outside and promptly forgot all about it.

Much time passed (probably close to an hour) and my Sweet Pickle asked to come inside for some milk and then came quickly back out the back door exclaiming, "Mama, the house stinks. Why do your beans smell like that?"

"Oh my gosh! The beans!! I forgot all about them!"

There goes supper. It's looking like a great night to eat out.

The house is hazy like a youth function. Fans are on high, windows are thrown open and I keep spraying Oust, only to see it (smell it?) quickly defeated by the ghastly bean odor.

In conclusion,
Today will be "affectionately" remembered as
The Day She Set The House On Smoke.

And also, the day I changed the smoke alarm batteries,
because they have made nary a peep in all this excitation.