Hi, my name is Kelsie and it's been 52 days since I last posted.
Obviously I'm not an avid blogger because if I was, my fan base, aka my mom, my sister, and my friend Garrett, would have reported me as a missing person. My life was boring me, so I didn't write about it. It would have gone like this..."Dear Mom, Today I went to work. I ate some food. Later I watched TV. Now it's bedtime." Actually I'm exaggerating, well underexaggerating. It that a word? Undermining? Underestimating? Eh, whatever the opposite of exaggerating is. I actually had some fun adventures over the past 7 weeks and 3 days, but anyway, I'm back to blogging...at least until I forget again.
My major issue lately is that I have turned from the careful, steady person that I was, into the biggest klutz ever. I'd say within the last three weeks I have dropped, stepped on, knocked down, and tripped over just about everything. For example, two days ago I dropped a cutting board on my foot while make dinner. I also dropped some of that dinner on the floor, but no one noticed so it's fine. Another example, ten minutes ago I dropped cake in the refrigerator and somehow smeared some on the little light thingy at the top. I dropped said cake on my bed...and my shorts. I've also spilled coffee on my desk at work a couple times...the computer tech guy is not going to like me.
Now, I'm not sure what started this whole clumsy thing off, but I find that I constantly frustrate myself. I can't stop dropping things, then subsequently knocking other things over while trying to pick up the first things, and then hitting my head while standing up to catch the second thing. It's almost like watching a cartoon. So, I did what any other American does...I googled an almost complete sentence including some of the words I was thinking and let the computer finish my thought and find some answers. Google didn't read my mind quite right the first time because I'm not a toddler running into things. But eventually I did find some more applicable information. What I've concluded from this was that I'm one of a few possible things:
1) I'm experiencing muscle weakness (my impressive biceps would disagree) OR
2) I have an ear infection OR
3) I'm a wobbly infant and it's normal OR
4) I have post traumatic stress disorder OR
5) I'm pregnant OR
6) Something about gluten (pretty sure my mom is voting for this one)
SOOO basically I've learned nothing. Actually not true, today I learned that clumsy people, as a subculture, tend to type up their weird stories and put them on the internet...case in point, this blog.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Salty Salt Supercedes Stale Salt
Ok, so I found something cool this morning while reading the Good Word and I decided not to wait a "week" to share it. Ready?!
Matthew 5:13 "You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men."
So I was reading in Matthew 5, and in verse 13, Jesus talks about us (his followers) being the salt of the earth. Which I thought was kind of a weird reference, but whatever, He's Jesus, so he can say what he likes. So he, being Jesus, goes on to say if we're not salty anymore, we, his followers, get tossed in the street and trampled on. Now, bear with me, because I actually researched/looked-at-one-website-and-was-satisfied-with-their-answer. Let's think about this. From an American standpoint, I'm envisioning Morton table salt and thinking, how am I like that? And I've never had any unsalty salt, did he just make that up? And doesn't that seem a bit extreme to throw us in the street and have us trampled? That's when I decided to stop and research.
After spending entire minutes typing the topic into google and skimming pages, I found this quote from someone that answered a similar question:
"Maundrell, who visited the lake at Jebbul, tells us that he found salt there which had entirely 'lost its savor,' and the same abounds among the debris at Usdum, and in other localities of rocksalt at the south end of the Dead Sea. Indeed, it is a well-known fact that the salt of this country, when in contact with the ground, or exposed to rain and sun, does become insipid and useless. From the manner in which it is gathered, much earth and other impurities are necessarily collected with it. Not a little of it is so impure that it cannot be used at all, and such salt soon effloresces and turns to dust - not to fruitful soil, however. It is not only good for nothing itself, but it actually destroys all fertility wherever it is thrown; and this is the reason why it is cast into the street. There is a sort of verbal verisimilitude in the manner in which our Lord alludes to the act: 'it is cast out' and 'trodden under foot;' so troublesome is this corrupted salt, that it is carefully swept up, carried forth, and thrown into the street. There is no place about the house, yard, or garden where it can be tolerated. No man will allow it to be thrown on to his field, and the only place for it is the street, and there it is cast to be trodden underfoot of men." *
After reading this, my thoughts were as follows.
Matthew 5:13 "You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men."
So I was reading in Matthew 5, and in verse 13, Jesus talks about us (his followers) being the salt of the earth. Which I thought was kind of a weird reference, but whatever, He's Jesus, so he can say what he likes. So he, being Jesus, goes on to say if we're not salty anymore, we, his followers, get tossed in the street and trampled on. Now, bear with me, because I actually researched/looked-at-one-website-and-was-satisfied-with-their-answer. Let's think about this. From an American standpoint, I'm envisioning Morton table salt and thinking, how am I like that? And I've never had any unsalty salt, did he just make that up? And doesn't that seem a bit extreme to throw us in the street and have us trampled? That's when I decided to stop and research.
After spending entire minutes typing the topic into google and skimming pages, I found this quote from someone that answered a similar question:
"Maundrell, who visited the lake at Jebbul, tells us that he found salt there which had entirely 'lost its savor,' and the same abounds among the debris at Usdum, and in other localities of rocksalt at the south end of the Dead Sea. Indeed, it is a well-known fact that the salt of this country, when in contact with the ground, or exposed to rain and sun, does become insipid and useless. From the manner in which it is gathered, much earth and other impurities are necessarily collected with it. Not a little of it is so impure that it cannot be used at all, and such salt soon effloresces and turns to dust - not to fruitful soil, however. It is not only good for nothing itself, but it actually destroys all fertility wherever it is thrown; and this is the reason why it is cast into the street. There is a sort of verbal verisimilitude in the manner in which our Lord alludes to the act: 'it is cast out' and 'trodden under foot;' so troublesome is this corrupted salt, that it is carefully swept up, carried forth, and thrown into the street. There is no place about the house, yard, or garden where it can be tolerated. No man will allow it to be thrown on to his field, and the only place for it is the street, and there it is cast to be trodden underfoot of men." *
After reading this, my thoughts were as follows.
- Maundrell is a such strange name.
- Adding the cultural perspective completely changed the meaning of this verse. I guess they did teach me something at that Christian university.
- What is a verisimilitude? (something having the appearance or likelihood of truth...just fyi)
- Jesus was crazy smart, because the simplicity of the statement can be easily understood, but the complexity of it's meaning can be taken so much further. Poetry really, carefully woven together. To expand further, I'll need another set of bullet points:
- He complements our importance and usefulness as his followers, by calling us something as essential as salt. Our bodies need salt to operate. One of it's functions is that it's used to transmit information in our nerves and cells. Ready for this? We are the salt of the Earth, one of our functions is to transmit information. Love it.
- He implies that we are not inherently essential. Salt is something the body cannot produce; we rely solely on food sources for it. The world cannot produce something as essential as Jesus, our Savior. And yet, by grace we have been transformed to something the world desperately needs to have some information transmitted from.
- He acknowledges our weakness and ability to be comprised. Just as salt can be ruined by overexposure to the elements, so we can lose our connection to God by lifestyle we choose to lead.
- He shows his role as a protector when he removes salt that has lost it's saltiness and throws it in the street. He keeps his salty salt, if you will, and makes sure that the useless salt does not take life from anything around it. Crazy smart, right?
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Father's Day Q & A
For Father's Day, I'm reintroducing Kenya's guest spot on my blog, and opening it up to the other kids. After all, my dad is practically Father Abraham with all the kids we have running around the house. So, here's to Dad. Happy Father's Day!
Kenya, Age 6
Me: Ok, so today we're talking about Dad.
Kenya: Dad (nod)
Me: So what's your Dad's name?
Kenya: Kenneth.
Me: So, how old is he?
Kenya: Umm, 24.
Me: Ok, what does he look like.
Kenya: Tan.
Me: Ok...what else?
Kenya: Just tan...Of his skin.
Me: Ok...is he short?
Kenya: No, he's big. Bigger than this (holds hands apart) Like 24 inches.
Me: Ooo that's a lot of inches. So what do you like to do with Dad?
Kenya: Play.
Me: Ok what kind of games?
Kenya: Like Rock, Paper, Scissors and stuff.
Me: What's something weird that Dad does?
Kenya: He makes us laugh...and tickles us.
Me: That's weird?
Kenya: Yeah
Me: So what kind of nickname does Dad call you?
Kenya: Kenya Joy. And Polliwog.
Me: Kenya, I call you Polliwog, not Dad.
Kenya: Oh I mean Kenya Boy. (laughs, then falls off chair) Oops.
Kyler, Age 7
Me: What's your Dad's name?
Kyler: Kenny
Me: How old is he?
Kyler: 45
Me: What does he look like?
Kyler: Uhh, a moustache and a giant beard under. Fuzzy.
Me: What else does he look like?
Kyler: Huge. He wore huge shoes to church that were pointy.
Me: Ahh church shoes. How tall is he?
Kyler: 6'6"
Me: What do you like about Dad?
Kyler: He plays with us.
Me: What's something goofy that Dad does?
Kyler: Makes faces. Sorry folks, I gotta go to da bafroom.
Me: Are you serious?
Kyler: Yeah (walks to the bathroom).
Me: Ok, thank you for your time sir. (as fan in the bathroom turns on)
Kennedy, Age 9
Me: What's your Dad's name?
Kennedy: Kenny
Me: How old is he?
Kennedy: Forttyyy....umm, four?
Me: What does he look like?
Kennedy: He's white with a blue eye and a green eye. And his hair's gray. He has a...is it called a moustache that goes all the way around?
Me: A goatee?
Kennedy: Yeah. Also, I still wanna guess how old is he right. Is it 44?
Me: I have no idea. (outside source says 45)
Me: What do you like about Dad?
Kennedy: He's umm warm?
Me: What's something goofy that he does?
Kennedy: Jokes. And calls us funny names.
Me: What do you think his favorite things are?
Kennedy: Motorcycles...Can I get a drink?
Me: Yeah go ahead.
Keenan, Age 12
Me: Will you help us out with this thing we're writing for Dad?
Keenan: Sure
Me: What's your favorite thing to do with Dad?
Keenan: I like going hunting with him.
Me: What do you like about Dad?
Keenan: Pretty much everything. Can I talk to Dad now?
Kiana, Age 16 (clearly old enough to write her own section)
Me: What is your Dad's name?
Kiana: Kenny
Me: How old is he?
Kiana: Prolly like forttyy four?
Me: What does your Dad look like?
Kiana: He's tall and white.
Me: What's your favorite thing about your dad?
Kiana: His wallet. (laughs) Just kidding. He's funny. Also, he drives me to school and always gives me lunch money.
Kayla: How many times have you ridden the bus, when we all had to ride it all the time?
Kiana: Prolly never, except for late starts.
Me: What's something weird that dad does?
Kiana: [Removed by writer]
Kayla: What color do you think he looks best in?
Kiana: Brown
Me: Is he a good boy repellent?
Kiana: Yes, they're all sweaty [from nervousness when they meet him].
Kayla: This interview sounds like the kids.
Me: I think we're done here.
Kayla, Age 19 (did her own section & reverted to interview)
Me: Whats the first thing that comes to mind when you think about Dad?
Kayla: The first thing that comes to mind when I think about my Dad is that he is the most morning friendly person I've ever known in my life! While the rest of us can be classified as morning "crankies" (creatures that should be feared and avoided in the am hours by all of mankind) my Dad has always been the cheerful morning type, always whistling away like he's one of the dwarfs from Snow White, darefully offering 'Good Mornings" to all the crankies in the land. This is something I've always laughed about - mostly after I am no longer a 'cranky'!
Me: What's something you really appreciate about Dad?
Kayla: Something I really appreciate about my Dad is that when it comes to humor we are pretty much on the same page. Sarcastic humor is the name of my game, but after I really get going (usually accompanied by the presence of my sisters) sometimes I get pretty obnoxious. At this point, my Dad will be cracking up, sometimes almost to tears, while my Mom seems to be frowning, and looking at the scar on my forehead wondering if I perhaps suffered brain damage when I ran into the door as a newly walking tot. After the release of Napoleon Dynamite came out, to my Mom's horror, I proceeded to talk like Kip for my entire 8th grade year. However, my Dad still breaks down laughing when I imitate Kip or sing "Technology"!
Me: Does your Mom still hate the Kip voice?
Kayla: Yes, very much so.
Me: Overall, how would you describe your Dad?
Kayla: Overall, I would describe my Dad as easy going, kind, caring, inventive, hardworking, and extremely intelligent. However, also, brave and perseverant because he lives in a house with four women who all have a "time of the month", which is no easy feat!
Me: Is there anything else you would like to add?
Kayla: Oh, Dad also used to let me scream/sing as loud as I could in the car the rest of the ride home when we were about two or three blocks out from the house because I was convinced I could break the glass because I could hit such a high notes. Never did break the glass, but I think he thought it was funny. He probably wouldn't have been to happy if I actually did.
Kelsie, Age 22
Kayla: How are you today?
Kelsie: Just dandy.
Kayla: What is your Dad's name?
Kelsie: Ken...that's his professional name. If you're trying to wake him up from his nap it's Kenny.
Kayla: Which name do you think suits him best?
Kelsie: Dad.
Kayla: I meant about the nicknames.
Kelsie: Oh...I don't know I only call him Dad.
Kayla: What is your favorite memory of Dad?
Kelsie: Um...let me think. Probably him picking me up from kindergarten and him hanging out with me at Grandma's. Or the time I got a spider bite and stayed home from school and went on an inspection with Dad.
Kayla: Really? You stayed home for a spider bite?
Kelsie: It was all puffy. I don't know I was among the first set of children, and they were really protective. If the kids got a spider bite now they'd probably be like "You shouldn't have picked up that spider!"
Kayla: What color do you think Dad looks best in?
Kelsie: Black
Kayla: Good color. Do you think he likes this color? (laughs)
Kelsie: Yes, looking at his choice of wives. I guess I should say wife cause it sounds like he has many.
Kayla: What is Dad's favorite type of music?
Kelsie: Rock. Although he does listen to rap and country. I guess he's an eclectic.
Kayla: How do you spell eclectic?
Kelsie: I dunno, either e-c-l-e-c-t-i-c or e-c-c-l-e-c-t-i-c
Kayla: If you could get Dad anything in the world what would it be?
Kelsie: (Lets out long breath) I would get him...umm...a motorcycle, Harley Davidson - Fat boy, beach bars, black and chrome.
Kayla: You could have gotten him a million dollars...just sayin'
Kelsie: Naw, what would he do with a million dollars...buy a Harley Davidson
Kayla: What is the funniest thing Dad has ever done?
Kelsie: Aside from his wardrobe in the 1990s (laughs) I'd say...does he do funny stuff? Or does he just laugh at funny stuff we do?
Kiana: Yea...he just laughs.
Kayla: What about the dog thing?
Kelsie: Oh yeah that was pretty funny.
Kiana: What dog thing?
Kelsie: When he tried to kick the dog and his shoe flew off in the neighbors yard. Although that wasn't intentionally funny.
Kayla: Mom said it was the holy spirit (laughs)
Kelsie: His "I'm on a diet" face is pretty funny too.
Kayla: He probably won't laugh when he reads that though.
Kayla: With a hat or no hat?
Kelsie: He only wears one type of hat. His head is too big for hats.
Kayla: Is Dad a good dancer?
Kelsie: Dad is a decent dancer (very matter of factly).
Kenny: Dad's not a good dancer.
Kelsie: Yea he is. he's not going to breakdance or anything, but he can hold his own.
Kayla: Ok I think we're done.
Kenny, Age 24 (also old enough to write his own section)
Kenny: Interview me, I don't wanna write.
Me: What does your Dad look like?
Kenny: He's a 6'6", 230 lbs, white dude with an alien head like me.
Me: How old is your Dad?
Kenny: 45
Kiana: Oh, can I change my answer?
Kenny: How I know that, cause he had me when he was 20.
Me: What do you like about Dad?
Kenny: Umm, number 1, he's prolly a good male influence to talk to. Umm, I mean he supports me in whatever I do, even if he disagrees with it. Sometimes. And he just understands me. Plus I know I can always rely on him.
Me: What's something goofy Dad does?
Kenny: I'll tell you what dad does. Whenever we go to someones house that is southern, he starts talking like them. He steals their accent.
Kenya, Age 6
Me: Ok, so today we're talking about Dad.
Kenya: Dad (nod)
Me: So what's your Dad's name?
Kenya: Kenneth.
Me: So, how old is he?
Kenya: Umm, 24.
Me: Ok, what does he look like.
Kenya: Tan.
Me: Ok...what else?
Kenya: Just tan...Of his skin.
Me: Ok...is he short?
Kenya: No, he's big. Bigger than this (holds hands apart) Like 24 inches.
Me: Ooo that's a lot of inches. So what do you like to do with Dad?
Kenya: Play.
Me: Ok what kind of games?
Kenya: Like Rock, Paper, Scissors and stuff.
Me: What's something weird that Dad does?
Kenya: He makes us laugh...and tickles us.
Me: That's weird?
Kenya: Yeah
Me: So what kind of nickname does Dad call you?
Kenya: Kenya Joy. And Polliwog.
Me: Kenya, I call you Polliwog, not Dad.
Kenya: Oh I mean Kenya Boy. (laughs, then falls off chair) Oops.
Kyler, Age 7
Me: What's your Dad's name?
Kyler: Kenny
Me: How old is he?
Kyler: 45
Me: What does he look like?
Kyler: Uhh, a moustache and a giant beard under. Fuzzy.
Me: What else does he look like?
Kyler: Huge. He wore huge shoes to church that were pointy.
Me: Ahh church shoes. How tall is he?
Kyler: 6'6"
Me: What do you like about Dad?
Kyler: He plays with us.
Me: What's something goofy that Dad does?
Kyler: Makes faces. Sorry folks, I gotta go to da bafroom.
Me: Are you serious?
Kyler: Yeah (walks to the bathroom).
Me: Ok, thank you for your time sir. (as fan in the bathroom turns on)
Kennedy, Age 9
Me: What's your Dad's name?
Kennedy: Kenny
Me: How old is he?
Kennedy: Forttyyy....umm, four?
Me: What does he look like?
Kennedy: He's white with a blue eye and a green eye. And his hair's gray. He has a...is it called a moustache that goes all the way around?
Me: A goatee?
Kennedy: Yeah. Also, I still wanna guess how old is he right. Is it 44?
Me: I have no idea. (outside source says 45)
Me: What do you like about Dad?
Kennedy: He's umm warm?
Me: What's something goofy that he does?
Kennedy: Jokes. And calls us funny names.
Me: What do you think his favorite things are?
Kennedy: Motorcycles...Can I get a drink?
Me: Yeah go ahead.
Keenan, Age 12
Me: Will you help us out with this thing we're writing for Dad?
Keenan: Sure
Me: What's your favorite thing to do with Dad?
Keenan: I like going hunting with him.
Me: What do you like about Dad?
Keenan: Pretty much everything. Can I talk to Dad now?
Kiana, Age 16 (clearly old enough to write her own section)
Me: What is your Dad's name?
Kiana: Kenny
Me: How old is he?
Kiana: Prolly like forttyy four?
Me: What does your Dad look like?
Kiana: He's tall and white.
Me: What's your favorite thing about your dad?
Kiana: His wallet. (laughs) Just kidding. He's funny. Also, he drives me to school and always gives me lunch money.
Kayla: How many times have you ridden the bus, when we all had to ride it all the time?
Kiana: Prolly never, except for late starts.
Me: What's something weird that dad does?
Kiana: [Removed by writer]
Kayla: What color do you think he looks best in?
Kiana: Brown
Me: Is he a good boy repellent?
Kiana: Yes, they're all sweaty [from nervousness when they meet him].
Kayla: This interview sounds like the kids.
Me: I think we're done here.
Kayla, Age 19 (did her own section & reverted to interview)
Me: Whats the first thing that comes to mind when you think about Dad?
Kayla: The first thing that comes to mind when I think about my Dad is that he is the most morning friendly person I've ever known in my life! While the rest of us can be classified as morning "crankies" (creatures that should be feared and avoided in the am hours by all of mankind) my Dad has always been the cheerful morning type, always whistling away like he's one of the dwarfs from Snow White, darefully offering 'Good Mornings" to all the crankies in the land. This is something I've always laughed about - mostly after I am no longer a 'cranky'!
Me: What's something you really appreciate about Dad?
Kayla: Something I really appreciate about my Dad is that when it comes to humor we are pretty much on the same page. Sarcastic humor is the name of my game, but after I really get going (usually accompanied by the presence of my sisters) sometimes I get pretty obnoxious. At this point, my Dad will be cracking up, sometimes almost to tears, while my Mom seems to be frowning, and looking at the scar on my forehead wondering if I perhaps suffered brain damage when I ran into the door as a newly walking tot. After the release of Napoleon Dynamite came out, to my Mom's horror, I proceeded to talk like Kip for my entire 8th grade year. However, my Dad still breaks down laughing when I imitate Kip or sing "Technology"!
Me: Does your Mom still hate the Kip voice?
Kayla: Yes, very much so.
Me: Overall, how would you describe your Dad?
Kayla: Overall, I would describe my Dad as easy going, kind, caring, inventive, hardworking, and extremely intelligent. However, also, brave and perseverant because he lives in a house with four women who all have a "time of the month", which is no easy feat!
Me: Is there anything else you would like to add?
Kayla: Oh, Dad also used to let me scream/sing as loud as I could in the car the rest of the ride home when we were about two or three blocks out from the house because I was convinced I could break the glass because I could hit such a high notes. Never did break the glass, but I think he thought it was funny. He probably wouldn't have been to happy if I actually did.
Kelsie, Age 22
Kayla: How are you today?
Kelsie: Just dandy.
Kayla: What is your Dad's name?
Kelsie: Ken...that's his professional name. If you're trying to wake him up from his nap it's Kenny.
Kayla: Which name do you think suits him best?
Kelsie: Dad.
Kayla: I meant about the nicknames.
Kelsie: Oh...I don't know I only call him Dad.
Kayla: What is your favorite memory of Dad?
Kelsie: Um...let me think. Probably him picking me up from kindergarten and him hanging out with me at Grandma's. Or the time I got a spider bite and stayed home from school and went on an inspection with Dad.
Kayla: Really? You stayed home for a spider bite?
Kelsie: It was all puffy. I don't know I was among the first set of children, and they were really protective. If the kids got a spider bite now they'd probably be like "You shouldn't have picked up that spider!"
Kayla: What color do you think Dad looks best in?
Kelsie: Black
Kayla: Good color. Do you think he likes this color? (laughs)
Kelsie: Yes, looking at his choice of wives. I guess I should say wife cause it sounds like he has many.
Kayla: What is Dad's favorite type of music?
Kelsie: Rock. Although he does listen to rap and country. I guess he's an eclectic.
Kayla: How do you spell eclectic?
Kelsie: I dunno, either e-c-l-e-c-t-i-c or e-c-c-l-e-c-t-i-c
Kayla: If you could get Dad anything in the world what would it be?
Kelsie: (Lets out long breath) I would get him...umm...a motorcycle, Harley Davidson - Fat boy, beach bars, black and chrome.
Kayla: You could have gotten him a million dollars...just sayin'
Kelsie: Naw, what would he do with a million dollars...buy a Harley Davidson
Kayla: What is the funniest thing Dad has ever done?
Kelsie: Aside from his wardrobe in the 1990s (laughs) I'd say...does he do funny stuff? Or does he just laugh at funny stuff we do?
Kiana: Yea...he just laughs.
Kayla: What about the dog thing?
Kelsie: Oh yeah that was pretty funny.
Kiana: What dog thing?
Kelsie: When he tried to kick the dog and his shoe flew off in the neighbors yard. Although that wasn't intentionally funny.
Kayla: Mom said it was the holy spirit (laughs)
Kelsie: His "I'm on a diet" face is pretty funny too.
Kayla: He probably won't laugh when he reads that though.
Kayla: With a hat or no hat?
Kelsie: He only wears one type of hat. His head is too big for hats.
Kayla: Is Dad a good dancer?
Kelsie: Dad is a decent dancer (very matter of factly).
Kenny: Dad's not a good dancer.
Kelsie: Yea he is. he's not going to breakdance or anything, but he can hold his own.
Kayla: Ok I think we're done.
Kenny, Age 24 (also old enough to write his own section)
Kenny: Interview me, I don't wanna write.
Me: What does your Dad look like?
Kenny: He's a 6'6", 230 lbs, white dude with an alien head like me.
Me: How old is your Dad?
Kenny: 45
Kiana: Oh, can I change my answer?
Kenny: How I know that, cause he had me when he was 20.
Me: What do you like about Dad?
Kenny: Umm, number 1, he's prolly a good male influence to talk to. Umm, I mean he supports me in whatever I do, even if he disagrees with it. Sometimes. And he just understands me. Plus I know I can always rely on him.
Me: What's something goofy Dad does?
Kenny: I'll tell you what dad does. Whenever we go to someones house that is southern, he starts talking like them. He steals their accent.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Babysitter Blog
Everyone once in awhile, I'm left home to babysit my little siblings. It's not too hard if you only take them one at a time. Today, little Kenya was the odd man out in going to the store, so to cheer her up, I offered to let her be on my blog. Apparently, that sounds cooler than it actually is. After she saw that I would just be typing what she said, she commenced playing with my phone. Here's her guest spot:
Kelsie: Ok, let's start with your name. What's your name?
Kenya: (shrugs shoulders)
Kelsie: Ok, your name is Kenya. How old are you?
Kenya: Six? Hey, where'd you even get dis phone? Is dis the phing where you take a picture? (Blows on my iphone) There's lotsa dust on dis phone.
Kelsie: Ok, let's talk about your day? What'd you do today?
Kenya: Sit. And play in da basement.
Kelsie: That sounds fun. What'd you play?
Kenya: Restuarant.
Kelsie: Ooo I forgot how to spell that.
Kenya: Rrrrrr....you can spell it! Hey, why'd you push dat button?
Kelsie: That's the space bar. You push it in between every word so there's a space.
Kenya: Did you just push it?
Kelsie: Mhm.
Kenya: Pushed it again. What are you spelling?
Kelsie: I'm writing down what we're saying.
Kenya: Oh. (smiles)
Kelsie: Now what do you wanna talk about?
Kenya: I don't know. Nothing. (pause) Did you just spell nothing?
Kelsie: Mhm.
Kenya: Dat's a weird story.
Kelsie: Why don't you tell me what you want to be when you grow up?
Kenya: A mermaid. Why don't you just say those words out loud?
Kelsie: Oh, what kind of mermaid?
Kenya: Ariel, with red hair. And a golden suit. And when I get married, I'm gonna wear a green dress instead of a pink dress. (farts) Ha Ha I farted!
Kelsie: uriugrhhfkjkkkkkkk mmmmmmmmmmmm [t
Kenyqa: Hahahaha I spelled Kenyqa. Dat was hilarious. Can we take pictures now?
Kelsie: Ok.
Kenya: (sings a song to the tune of neener neener neener, while taking picture on my phone)
I took a picture of your fooot.
I took a picture of your fooot.
But its so close that you can't seee it.
Cause it's reeally daaaark.
I can take a picture of the mooon.
I can take a picture of the mooon.
Uh oh. Ummm, what do I push now?
Kelsie: Here let me see.
Kenya: Do you know what a caboose is?
Kelsie: What is it?
Kenya: It's where your back is.
Kelsie: Really?
Kenya: Yeah, it looks like a booty.
Kelsie: I thought a caboose was on a train.
Kenya: (laughs) A caboose? (laughs again) On a train? (more laughing) A caboose can't be on a train?
Kelsie: Let me show you. (typing caboose in google)
Kenya: You're spelling it?! (laughs more)
Kelsie: Kenya, look.
Kenya: Oh, it's part of a train.
Kelsie: Hey mom's home! Here give me that. (take my phone) How many videos did you take of your leg?!
Kenya: (giggles) I dunno, like 5.
Kelsie: Ok, let's start with your name. What's your name?
Kenya: (shrugs shoulders)
Kelsie: Ok, your name is Kenya. How old are you?
Kenya: Six? Hey, where'd you even get dis phone? Is dis the phing where you take a picture? (Blows on my iphone) There's lotsa dust on dis phone.
Kelsie: Ok, let's talk about your day? What'd you do today?
Kenya: Sit. And play in da basement.
Kelsie: That sounds fun. What'd you play?
Kenya: Restuarant.
Kelsie: Ooo I forgot how to spell that.
Kenya: Rrrrrr....you can spell it! Hey, why'd you push dat button?
Kelsie: That's the space bar. You push it in between every word so there's a space.
Kenya: Did you just push it?
Kelsie: Mhm.
Kenya: Pushed it again. What are you spelling?
Kelsie: I'm writing down what we're saying.
Kenya: Oh. (smiles)
Kelsie: Now what do you wanna talk about?
Kenya: I don't know. Nothing. (pause) Did you just spell nothing?
Kelsie: Mhm.
Kenya: Dat's a weird story.
Kelsie: Why don't you tell me what you want to be when you grow up?
Kenya: A mermaid. Why don't you just say those words out loud?
Kelsie: Oh, what kind of mermaid?
Kenya: Ariel, with red hair. And a golden suit. And when I get married, I'm gonna wear a green dress instead of a pink dress. (farts) Ha Ha I farted!
Kelsie: uriugrhhfkjkkkkkkk mmmmmmmmmmmm [t
Kenyqa: Hahahaha I spelled Kenyqa. Dat was hilarious. Can we take pictures now?
Kelsie: Ok.
Kenya: (sings a song to the tune of neener neener neener, while taking picture on my phone)
I took a picture of your fooot.
I took a picture of your fooot.
But its so close that you can't seee it.
Cause it's reeally daaaark.
I can take a picture of the mooon.
I can take a picture of the mooon.
Uh oh. Ummm, what do I push now?
Kelsie: Here let me see.
Kenya: Do you know what a caboose is?
Kelsie: What is it?
Kenya: It's where your back is.
Kelsie: Really?
Kenya: Yeah, it looks like a booty.
Kelsie: I thought a caboose was on a train.
Kenya: (laughs) A caboose? (laughs again) On a train? (more laughing) A caboose can't be on a train?
Kelsie: Let me show you. (typing caboose in google)
Kenya: You're spelling it?! (laughs more)
Kelsie: Kenya, look.
Kenya: Oh, it's part of a train.
Kelsie: Hey mom's home! Here give me that. (take my phone) How many videos did you take of your leg?!
Kenya: (giggles) I dunno, like 5.
Here's her pictures (the first one is the moon, btw):
Monday, June 13, 2011
We Can Only Hope
In looking at my list of posts, I think I've done quite well with maintaining my general theme of nothing in particular. Today, I'm going to do something completely random, and talk about something serious. Heck, I might even throw some Bible verses in here (also, I probably shouldn't use heck and Bible verses in the same sentence). Anywho, my subject today is hope.
So, I sat down with a friend for coffee the other day. Now, this is a different friend than Dating 101. I apparently need to name these coffee friends in order to keep them straight. For anonymity purposes, I shall name this friend Chesterfeld Whittington, but I'll call him Travis for short. Anyways, Travis came in from out of town for a couple days in between spring and summer classes at the university he attends. We've been friends since Chesterfeld was just a wee little freshman in high school, so it's always nice being able to catch up. Now, coming back from that tangent, Travis said something that really stuck with me about the atmosphere of the town. He was only back for a day or so and he already felt how burdened people were. I thought about it, and could relate to the feeling, because, well, I live here. Long after my Earl Grey was no longer palatable, this conversation still nagged at me. Why do we feel this way?
Later that night, it came to me...we are HOPELESS! Also, we have nowhere to wear our pretty dresses to, but mostly the hopeless. And by hopeless, I mean devoid of hope. Hope being the expectancy or belief that something we desire will happen. Devoid being to not possess or have been stripped of something. Initiating scripture insert....now:
Proverbs 13:12 - Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.
Now, here comes the pot calling the kettle black. Our biggest hope cannot be that it's sunny outside tomorrow. Or that someone else will cook dinner tonight. How can we be satisfied with our fulfilled longings when we've set our standards so small? (1 Corinthians 15:19,22 below) Now, let me set this straight, I DO hope it's sunny tomorrow, cause my hair is straight and I left my umbrella in the car, but my hope is in the Lord. (This is where I expect Wendi or Kayla to say, mmmhmmm Preach it sista!). Anyway, I'll wrap this up with more scriptures because my attention span it shortening the later it gets. Took me ten minutes to finish that sentence because I had to stop and think about the bruise on my leg. Here's my string of pearls (for those of you who were paying attention at church on Sunday):
Romans 8:24-25 - For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.
Isaiah 40:31 - But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.
1 Corinthians 15:19,22 - If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men...For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive.
Psalms 42:5 - Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.
Psalm 62:4 - Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from Him.
So, I sat down with a friend for coffee the other day. Now, this is a different friend than Dating 101. I apparently need to name these coffee friends in order to keep them straight. For anonymity purposes, I shall name this friend Chesterfeld Whittington, but I'll call him Travis for short. Anyways, Travis came in from out of town for a couple days in between spring and summer classes at the university he attends. We've been friends since Chesterfeld was just a wee little freshman in high school, so it's always nice being able to catch up. Now, coming back from that tangent, Travis said something that really stuck with me about the atmosphere of the town. He was only back for a day or so and he already felt how burdened people were. I thought about it, and could relate to the feeling, because, well, I live here. Long after my Earl Grey was no longer palatable, this conversation still nagged at me. Why do we feel this way?
Later that night, it came to me...we are HOPELESS! Also, we have nowhere to wear our pretty dresses to, but mostly the hopeless. And by hopeless, I mean devoid of hope. Hope being the expectancy or belief that something we desire will happen. Devoid being to not possess or have been stripped of something. Initiating scripture insert....now:
Proverbs 13:12 - Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.
Now, here comes the pot calling the kettle black. Our biggest hope cannot be that it's sunny outside tomorrow. Or that someone else will cook dinner tonight. How can we be satisfied with our fulfilled longings when we've set our standards so small? (1 Corinthians 15:19,22 below) Now, let me set this straight, I DO hope it's sunny tomorrow, cause my hair is straight and I left my umbrella in the car, but my hope is in the Lord. (This is where I expect Wendi or Kayla to say, mmmhmmm Preach it sista!). Anyway, I'll wrap this up with more scriptures because my attention span it shortening the later it gets. Took me ten minutes to finish that sentence because I had to stop and think about the bruise on my leg. Here's my string of pearls (for those of you who were paying attention at church on Sunday):
Romans 8:24-25 - For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.
Isaiah 40:31 - But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.
1 Corinthians 15:19,22 - If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men...For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive.
Psalms 42:5 - Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.
Psalm 62:4 - Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from Him.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Gym Logic
Today I made my semi-annual appearance in the weight room. Surprisingly enough this caused the math nerd in me to surface. See following:
Smell of Person on the Next Treadmill > My Desire to do Cardio
Normal Guy + Creepy Guy = Two Creepy Guys
# of Squats / # of Females in Gym = # of Guys Subtly Looking at your Butt
Avg Age of Equipment ≥ Avg Age of Each Person in Weight Room
2 Headphones = No conversations
Smell of Person on the Next Treadmill > My Desire to do Cardio
Normal Guy + Creepy Guy = Two Creepy Guys
# of Squats / # of Females in Gym = # of Guys Subtly Looking at your Butt
Avg Age of Equipment ≥ Avg Age of Each Person in Weight Room
2 Headphones = No conversations
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Dating 101
Ok class, today we will be discussing dating. And we will also briefly discuss why I like to refer to my readers as 'class'. It's somewhat ironic because I have no desire to be a teacher. This is mostly due to my lack of patience. I also have no desire to pray for patience because then I would be asking God to send things to irritate me. I'll pray for that about the time that I have kids and need to teach them things. But I'll need a husband to make those kids, and that brings us back to dating. So here we go.
I recently sat down with a friend in Starbucks, and after an intense discussion about socks and followed by theories of how the word 'silliness' should be pluralized since it's a noun, we started discussing dating. This is when I realized, I have a lot of absurd ideas about dating...I should blog them. Now my disclaimer: I'm not sure if a man's mind works the same way, so if you're a man and you start reading this and it makes you dizzy and confused, then stop reading, shut the computer down, and walk away. The mind of a woman is a dangerous place if you're not up for the challenge.
Class Summary
Now, I have named this Dating 101, because if I was in any higher level than that, I'd be dating. I blame this partially on not passing my test out of high school. The test being 'Dont Have a Serious Relationship in High School'. Fail. So, I got held back and had to take remedial courses. And here I am now, hoping it doesn't take four years like college to find a date because, again, I have no patience.
Description
I have been on a few dates since failing my high school relationship test, and from those experiences, I've formulated a series of rules on dating. These rules, of course, pertain to no one in particular and are generally ignored when I don't feel like paying them any attention. Why, you ask? Because they're made up...by me...only to be regarded in dry spells where there is no dating. So these are my personal rules on dating.
Rule 1: Three fo' Free
Now, I'm sure I have a whole lot of other rules that I've either a) forgotten or b) can't post. But I think you've gotten the gist of my ability to overanalyze a situation. But don't worry, Friend I Drank Coffee With, I'm not counting that as Date #1.
I recently sat down with a friend in Starbucks, and after an intense discussion about socks and followed by theories of how the word 'silliness' should be pluralized since it's a noun, we started discussing dating. This is when I realized, I have a lot of absurd ideas about dating...I should blog them. Now my disclaimer: I'm not sure if a man's mind works the same way, so if you're a man and you start reading this and it makes you dizzy and confused, then stop reading, shut the computer down, and walk away. The mind of a woman is a dangerous place if you're not up for the challenge.
Class Summary
Now, I have named this Dating 101, because if I was in any higher level than that, I'd be dating. I blame this partially on not passing my test out of high school. The test being 'Dont Have a Serious Relationship in High School'. Fail. So, I got held back and had to take remedial courses. And here I am now, hoping it doesn't take four years like college to find a date because, again, I have no patience.
Description
I have been on a few dates since failing my high school relationship test, and from those experiences, I've formulated a series of rules on dating. These rules, of course, pertain to no one in particular and are generally ignored when I don't feel like paying them any attention. Why, you ask? Because they're made up...by me...only to be regarded in dry spells where there is no dating. So these are my personal rules on dating.
Rule 1: Three fo' Free
- First of all, anyone who jumped to inappropriate things based on that title...get your minds out of the gutter.
- This means that you get three dates with no strings attached. You're not "dating". You're not "in a relationship". You simply went on a date. After three, you better decide if it's someone you want to date because you're outa free stuff, buddy.
- Group dates don't count. The dynamics are all weird and people act differently. Also, movie dates are weird because you don't talk, unless you're the annoying people at the theater.
Rule 2: No Double-Dipping
- Once you have officially dated someone, deemed it a bad fit, and broken up with that person...don't do it again. Nobody likes a double-dipper.
- Officially dating someone means you have spent some time with that person and gotten to know them and they have gotten to know you. There's a pretty good chance that the "real you" and the "real them" are fundamentally the same people no matter how much time has passed and will, eventually, have the same fundamental problems.
Rule 3: The Well-but Theory
- This applies once you have begun the dating sequence with a person and are attempting to describe them to someone else.
- If you must begun the sentence with 'Well', you're probably in for some trouble, and you can guarantee that trouble if you have a 'but' in that same sentence.
- Ex: WELL he has a beautiful smile, BUT he doesn't brush his teeth.
Rule 4: Mama Knows
- This one is pretty obvious: your mother knows. She knows: you, your attributes, and the attributes a partner needs to put up with you. Ask her for an opinion if you're serious about someone...if you're serious.
Rule 5: Quirk it Up
- Disclosing quirky tendencies isn't just a way to complain (although it IS great for complaining). It's a way to get to know people. They understand a a few things about the way you operate, and hopefully the person shares a little with you. It's an icebreaker of sorts.
- I'm a firm believer in throwing the quirky things out on the table real quick. I don't think you need to be married to someone for 10 years to figure out that you hate having spare socks in the laundry or messy toothpaste caps in the bathroom or that hole patterns make you gag or that you have burping contests with your grandpa. Just to name a few.
- Probably not a bad time to let them know about food allergies too. Just in case.
Rule 6: Height Requirements
- Ok, these may or may not be important to you, but the height of the person you date is definitely a discussion topic.
- Being of what I think is average height, but some people believe is gargantuan, like my guys tall. This is for a few reasons:
- I like to wear high heels. We're talking 5 inches, baby. That makes me right around 6'0".
- I don't like feeling like a circus act while wearing my high heels. Tall guy + Average-height girl in high heels = Proportionate
- I like feeling like my date is bigger than me and can protect me. I don't wanna have to save him from a mugger and carry him bride-style to safety (in my high heels, of course).
Now, I'm sure I have a whole lot of other rules that I've either a) forgotten or b) can't post. But I think you've gotten the gist of my ability to overanalyze a situation. But don't worry, Friend I Drank Coffee With, I'm not counting that as Date #1.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
For Mother's Day
For this Mother's Day, I have decided to adapt a passage from the Bible. This may or may not be blasphemous, but I think it stays true to the character of the verse and describes my beautiful mother perfectly (I included the original passage at the bottom). Happy Mother's Day!
Epilogue: The Wife of Noble Character
A wife of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than rubies.
Her husband has full confidence in her
and lacks nothing of value.
She brings him good, not harm,
all the days of her life.
She makes cute little dresses for
all her daughters; blazers for her sons.
She is like the freight trucks,
bringing her food from Winco.
She stays up late at night;
she can throw down in the kitchen
and there's always new music for her Zumba class.
She considers a business and starts it;
out of her earnings she begins another.
She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.
She sees that her purses and Zumba gear are profitable,
and her electricity bill is always paid.
In her hand she holds the needle and thread
and grasps the sewing machine with her fingers.
She opens her arms to the poor
and extends her hands to the needy.
When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in big puffy jackets.
She makes coverings for her bed;
she is dressed with beauty and style.
Her husband is respected at the city gate,
where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.
She orders Zumba garments and sells them,
and supplies the ladies with purses.
She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness (or gluten).
Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
“Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all.”
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
Honor her for all that her hands have done,
and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.
Original Passage
10 A wife of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than rubies.
11 Her husband has full confidence in her
and lacks nothing of value.
12 She brings him good, not harm,
all the days of her life.
13 She selects wool and flax
and works with eager hands.
14 She is like the merchant ships,
bringing her food from afar.
15 She gets up while it is still night;
she provides food for her family
and portions for her female servants.
16 She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
17 She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.
18 She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night.
19 In her hand she holds the distaff
and grasps the spindle with her fingers.
20 She opens her arms to the poor
and extends her hands to the needy.
21 When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
22 She makes coverings for her bed;
she is clothed in fine linen and purple.
23 Her husband is respected at the city gate,
where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.
24 She makes linen garments and sells them,
and supplies the merchants with sashes.
25 She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
26 She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
27 She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
28 Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
29 “Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all.”
30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
31 Honor her for all that her hands have done,
and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.
Epilogue: The Wife of Noble Character
A wife of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than rubies.
Her husband has full confidence in her
and lacks nothing of value.
She brings him good, not harm,
all the days of her life.
She makes cute little dresses for
all her daughters; blazers for her sons.
She is like the freight trucks,
bringing her food from Winco.
She stays up late at night;
she can throw down in the kitchen
and there's always new music for her Zumba class.
She considers a business and starts it;
out of her earnings she begins another.
She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.
She sees that her purses and Zumba gear are profitable,
and her electricity bill is always paid.
In her hand she holds the needle and thread
and grasps the sewing machine with her fingers.
She opens her arms to the poor
and extends her hands to the needy.
When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in big puffy jackets.
She makes coverings for her bed;
she is dressed with beauty and style.
Her husband is respected at the city gate,
where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.
She orders Zumba garments and sells them,
and supplies the ladies with purses.
She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness (or gluten).
Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
“Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all.”
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
Honor her for all that her hands have done,
and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.
Original Passage
10 A wife of noble character who can find?
She is worth far more than rubies.
11 Her husband has full confidence in her
and lacks nothing of value.
12 She brings him good, not harm,
all the days of her life.
13 She selects wool and flax
and works with eager hands.
14 She is like the merchant ships,
bringing her food from afar.
15 She gets up while it is still night;
she provides food for her family
and portions for her female servants.
16 She considers a field and buys it;
out of her earnings she plants a vineyard.
17 She sets about her work vigorously;
her arms are strong for her tasks.
18 She sees that her trading is profitable,
and her lamp does not go out at night.
19 In her hand she holds the distaff
and grasps the spindle with her fingers.
20 She opens her arms to the poor
and extends her hands to the needy.
21 When it snows, she has no fear for her household;
for all of them are clothed in scarlet.
22 She makes coverings for her bed;
she is clothed in fine linen and purple.
23 Her husband is respected at the city gate,
where he takes his seat among the elders of the land.
24 She makes linen garments and sells them,
and supplies the merchants with sashes.
25 She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.
26 She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.
27 She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.
28 Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:
29 “Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all.”
30 Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.
31 Honor her for all that her hands have done,
and let her works bring her praise at the city gate.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Me Duele La Cabeza
Ok Class, today we will be talking about headaches! Does anyone know what a headache is?...(Females) YES! So everything I mention today will be very accurate and scientific; it will be based in extensive research. But also, it is Opposite Day, which is a holiday that school children invented to justifying lying. So perhaps it is the opposite of accurate and scientific, but then again if I say it's not extensively researched and it's Opposite Day, then it must be legitimately researched (woooo...spooky Opposite Day logic). Since you're not school children, I'll just say that I hate researching things and I'm going to make it all up...tsk tsk, always having to simplify things for adults.
So lately, Facebook has informed me of an outbreak of headaches. According to me, there are numerous types of headaches, which are categorized as follows:
- The Achy: when your head just kinda pounds all over, not too high on the pain scale, but tops out the irritating scale
- The Squeezy: when it feels like there's a vise on your temples and your brain might come out of your eyeballs, both painful and irritating, results in a lack of focus
- The Fireball: this one is specific to those with MSG intolerance, feels like your brain is on fire, often accompanied with a rise in temperature of your ears and a stiff neck
- The Magician: now you feel it, now you don't, this headaches is localized throbbing that comes and goes and sometimes moves to different locations, usually starts behind the ear
- The Sneak Attack: a mild ache that you don't even notice until something irritates you or someone says, "Ugh, my head hurts.", could have this for days without know and it is often followed by a period (for females, of course)
- The Migraine: the dreaded headache that comes from nowhere and knocks you on your butt, usually accompanied by nausea and light sensitivity, best handled by a brain restart aka sleeping until it's gone
Now, that we know what a headache is, we could discuss where they come from. But we won't. Mostly because we like to talk about conspiracies at home. Our favorites right now revolve around the FDA, pharmaceutical companies, chemical additives, and the government. But that is a whole different blog; one that will likely end up on an FBI watch list or something. So instead, let's go on to the next paragraph.
This paragraph includes headache theories (some specifically for Cowlitz County), again formulated by me:
- Theory 1: We are like little lab mice that live in the dark and when the sun comes out, it burns our eyeballs resulting in headaches.
- Theory 2: The mills have to stop putting all their yucky mill stuff in the air when it gets sunny because we can see it, which is stupid of them and also of us. Anyway, during that time our heads and lungs clear up. Then when the clouds come back and they can disguise the pollution as bad weather, everybody gets headaches from exposure for a few days.
- Theory 3: Vitamin D deficiency. I don't know why, but I know we don't get enough.
- Theory 4: The technology vortex, which makes us stare at tiny words all day.
- Theory 5: Most people have a Sneak Attack headache already waiting. Then they get on Facebook and one of the 783 friends says on the news feed 'SoandSo Jones has the worst headache ever in the whole history of the world' and BAM! Sneak Attack! You read it, you got it. The hot potato of the headache world.
Now, we let's discuss how to get rid of a headache. Now, perhaps it's just me here, but it seems like when a woman gets a headache, she will have that same headache for the rest of her life. And if it's not the Sneak Attack, then don't say anything about it, because then she will have two. And a guy, well, who ever hears about a guy with a headache. They either have concussions or they are using the phrase to express frustration. Now, here is the magical key. Guys take a nap! I got a Fireball Magician yesterday at work, and guess what I did about it. I worked all day, went to Zumba class, had dinner, hung out with the family, and otherwise functioned as though nothing was different. The only tell was that I groaned, "Oh my head hurts!" when the Magician part of it resurfaced. Now, assuming I was a male and I had the same headache, I would have immediately gone home and taken a nap on the couch. I'm not going to say which approach is better because they both have their pros and cons, but at least they're both out there.
Well, now you know everything there is to know about headaches, more specifically, everything I know about headaches. If you do get a headache one day, drink some water, take a nap, do what you need to do to get rid of it. But don't tell me about it, because I don't want a Sneak Attack.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
The Time Has Come
So today was a big day for me in the series of days of little things. Today I threw something away that was literally rotting in my room. But before I elaborate on my trip to the garbage can, I think I should give a little background.
So for my birthday this past year, during the Age of the Ex-boyfriend, I was in a long-distance relationship. For my birthday, I received a dozen colored roses with a big red bow and a cute little note. Now me, being a romantic disguised as a realist, thought this was the gosh-darn cutest thing ever.
However, as the roses died, so did the relationship, with oddly close timing I might add. And there they sat, on the bookshelf, bearing a symbol of the dead, festering relationship that I couldn't decide whether to get rid of or stare at. Now, of course, there was some laziness that contributed to their long stay on the bookshelf, but mostly I think I didn't want to throw away my gosh-darn cute memory. Sometimes I worried that I'd come home from work, and my sister, who saves everything, would throw them away. But she didn't...and I didn't.
So today, while cleaning up, my sister gently said, "Kelsie, I think it's time to throw away the roses." I thought briefly about it and realized that it was just like the children's poem, "The time has come, the Walrus said" (And yes, Kayla would be playing the Walrus in this production). So I picked them up, walked carefully up the stairs, so they didn't disintegrate and spread rotten plant everywhere. I went outside, more worried about getting the little glass shards from the driveway in my bare feet, than how I felt about the roses, and I threw them away. I skipped back inside, again to avoid the glass shards, and gave a little sigh of relief.
And that was that. Well, minus scrubbing the grime off the bottom of the vase.
So for my birthday this past year, during the Age of the Ex-boyfriend, I was in a long-distance relationship. For my birthday, I received a dozen colored roses with a big red bow and a cute little note. Now me, being a romantic disguised as a realist, thought this was the gosh-darn cutest thing ever.
However, as the roses died, so did the relationship, with oddly close timing I might add. And there they sat, on the bookshelf, bearing a symbol of the dead, festering relationship that I couldn't decide whether to get rid of or stare at. Now, of course, there was some laziness that contributed to their long stay on the bookshelf, but mostly I think I didn't want to throw away my gosh-darn cute memory. Sometimes I worried that I'd come home from work, and my sister, who saves everything, would throw them away. But she didn't...and I didn't.
So today, while cleaning up, my sister gently said, "Kelsie, I think it's time to throw away the roses." I thought briefly about it and realized that it was just like the children's poem, "The time has come, the Walrus said" (And yes, Kayla would be playing the Walrus in this production). So I picked them up, walked carefully up the stairs, so they didn't disintegrate and spread rotten plant everywhere. I went outside, more worried about getting the little glass shards from the driveway in my bare feet, than how I felt about the roses, and I threw them away. I skipped back inside, again to avoid the glass shards, and gave a little sigh of relief.
And that was that. Well, minus scrubbing the grime off the bottom of the vase.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Frustration is the Name of the Game
Between work, home, and rain, I find myself in an almost constant state of frustration. As much as I'd like to always blame this on PMS, the ultimate scapegoat of female crankiness, my IPhone app says I still have awhile before that really counts. And yes, there is an app for that. As much as I'd like to say exactly what's frustrating me right now, I can't, because I can't seem to quite pinpoint where this urge to snarl at people is based. But instead I'll just talk about it in general.
Frustration really is a game, of sorts. It gets passed around from one person to another like hot potato. Except it's probably more like the original version of that game, where it left everyone's hands scorched and the loser dropped his dinner in the dirt. It's a dangerous game to say the least, hot potato that is. Now, here I will define frustration by dictionary standards. Mostly because I don't like wasting energy thinking of words that I can copy and paste. So dictionary.com says it's: a feeling of dissatisfaction, often accompanied by anxiety or depression, resulting from unfulfilled needs or unresolved problems. Wow, now if that doesn't just sum it up right there. Unfulfilled needs or unresolved problems. Thank you, Dictionary.com.
Now for me, I'm probably experiencing a combination of both. With reference to my very first post, I'm frustrated with my current situation. I don't worry much about my needs being fulfilled eventually, because I'm a firm believer that God provides in His own perfect time. But I get frazzled by that unresolved problems part. I'm that kid that you gave a puzzle and they had to finish it right then. No eating, no sleeping, just solving. Same with books. I had to read the whole thing as fast as possible because I just had to know the ending.
So, being back in my small hometown, living in my parents basement, I'm just dying to know what's the next step in life. One irritating thing that I often hear is, "Well, when God closes a door, He opens another." Well I have a thought about that. Sometimes I think He just leaves you in the hallway for a timeout to think about what you did. Or maybe it's more like the Matrix, where the key maker finally gets Neo into the hall where he can find the Designer. Except he's locked in there with just seconds to spare and he's got to guess which one of a hallway full of doors and if he's wrong the world will explode! Or something like that...I'd have to watch the movie again...but you get the point. What it all boils down to is I've found myself at a standstill in life...and its frustrating.
Frustration really is a game, of sorts. It gets passed around from one person to another like hot potato. Except it's probably more like the original version of that game, where it left everyone's hands scorched and the loser dropped his dinner in the dirt. It's a dangerous game to say the least, hot potato that is. Now, here I will define frustration by dictionary standards. Mostly because I don't like wasting energy thinking of words that I can copy and paste. So dictionary.com says it's: a feeling of dissatisfaction, often accompanied by anxiety or depression, resulting from unfulfilled needs or unresolved problems. Wow, now if that doesn't just sum it up right there. Unfulfilled needs or unresolved problems. Thank you, Dictionary.com.
Now for me, I'm probably experiencing a combination of both. With reference to my very first post, I'm frustrated with my current situation. I don't worry much about my needs being fulfilled eventually, because I'm a firm believer that God provides in His own perfect time. But I get frazzled by that unresolved problems part. I'm that kid that you gave a puzzle and they had to finish it right then. No eating, no sleeping, just solving. Same with books. I had to read the whole thing as fast as possible because I just had to know the ending.
So, being back in my small hometown, living in my parents basement, I'm just dying to know what's the next step in life. One irritating thing that I often hear is, "Well, when God closes a door, He opens another." Well I have a thought about that. Sometimes I think He just leaves you in the hallway for a timeout to think about what you did. Or maybe it's more like the Matrix, where the key maker finally gets Neo into the hall where he can find the Designer. Except he's locked in there with just seconds to spare and he's got to guess which one of a hallway full of doors and if he's wrong the world will explode! Or something like that...I'd have to watch the movie again...but you get the point. What it all boils down to is I've found myself at a standstill in life...and its frustrating.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Blurts from the Peanut Gallery
It's been a couple days since I've blogged. I haven't quite gotten into the routine of talking to myself in the form an imaginary reader audience. I seem to get most of my inspiration in the shower, so for those of you deductive reasoners out there in my imaginary reader audience, you may gather that I've either had an uninspiring week or I haven't showered. I did have a couple interesting thoughts come to me throughout my shower-less week, oh I mean uninspiring. Not really enough to tell a story about any, but enough to jot down and blurt out commentary.
THOUGHT: A lady at work said today that its her dream to be a chef and if she could go to culinary school she'd wake up happy everyday.
BLURT: Go to culinary school! What are you waiting for? Your kids are grown and married, and your husband has a job. What do you have to lose? Life is short people, take a chance once in awhile.
THOUGHT: We're trying to eat more organic at home and cut out preservatives and chemicals and all the things that people kinda know are in their foods, but try not to think about to much. Me and my sisters are pretty much sugar junkies though so it's not easy. So tonight, I experimented by making organic black bean brownies.
BLURT: They taste like beans with chocolate chips.
THOUGHT: I've been reading through fashion magazines, and the trend this season seems to be wearing something neutral and boring with something bright and weird.
BLURT: Good thing I already do that. I finally get to be in style for once.
THOUGHT: Today my grandpa gave me some good advice on relationships. Don't give yourself away before you get married, he said. Actually the exact words were, "If you're gonna have sex, at least get paid."
BLURT: You go Grandpa!
THOUGHT: It's been really slow at work lately. I'm a full-time employee so I have to stay all day no matter what, but it really makes the time drag by.
BLURT: Clicking things open and closed on the computer makes you look busy.
THOUGHT: Coconut oil is amazing stuff. It's healthy to eat and great for your skin and hair. Nature's little miracle.
BLURT: When you're using it to cook, you probably shouldn't rub it all over your skin and hair. These things should be done all at different times.
Well that's all I've got for now. I imagine I'll have something more cohesive tomorrow while I'm experiencing my shopping withdrawals.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Why I Loathe Flossing...
So, tomorrow I have a dentist appointment. I used to really enjoy going to the dentist as a kid. You got to pick awesomely disgusting toothpaste flavors, like watermelon or chocolate. You got a new toothbrush in whatever color you wanted. You usually got out of school early. And best of all, they gave you minty bubblegum. What's not to like about that? Well, I'll tell you...FLOSSING!
I told my sister I had to go to the dentist, and she laughed and said, "Oh, you're giving blood tomorrow." Which, if I may go on a tangent here, I also dislike giving blood because my veins seem to retract into my body and taunt the nurse, who they sent to practice drawing blood for the first time ever. After which I look like the victim of an unfortunate porcupine accident. But anyway, the dentist thing. She said this because we have all inherited ridiculously tightly-spaced teeth. Really, it's probably more like just two teeth; one tooth all the way across the top and one tooth all the way across the bottom. Mega Tooth, if you will. My mother also has this Mega Tooth condition, so she never made us floss growing up. So the older we get, the more we bleed when the dentist tries to floss Mega Tooth. Pretty soon, going to the dentist is going to be counter-productive because they're going to have to start giving us cookies to help with the blood loss.
So here are my own personal thoughts on flossing. It's meant to be done only the week before you go to the dentist. I'm sure they can tell you're only pretend flossing, but hey at least you thought about it. I mean really, why else would people do it!? It takes forever...or at least takes forever to penetrate the tiny cracks in the fortress walls of Mega Tooth. Since I can't seem to justify waking up earlier to do something I hate (flossing), I've started using those little dental flossers in the car on the way to work. This process has its pros and cons. For example, I can actually improve my dental hygiene and get to work on time, but it does put the whole Mega Tooth dilemma out in the open for everyone to see. So if you hear someone laughing about this girl they saw while driving that was trying to yank a flosser out of her teeth, but then had to give up and leave it in there so she could accomplish a left turn... don't laugh! Because it's not her fault...she has Mega Tooth Syndrome.
I told my sister I had to go to the dentist, and she laughed and said, "Oh, you're giving blood tomorrow." Which, if I may go on a tangent here, I also dislike giving blood because my veins seem to retract into my body and taunt the nurse, who they sent to practice drawing blood for the first time ever. After which I look like the victim of an unfortunate porcupine accident. But anyway, the dentist thing. She said this because we have all inherited ridiculously tightly-spaced teeth. Really, it's probably more like just two teeth; one tooth all the way across the top and one tooth all the way across the bottom. Mega Tooth, if you will. My mother also has this Mega Tooth condition, so she never made us floss growing up. So the older we get, the more we bleed when the dentist tries to floss Mega Tooth. Pretty soon, going to the dentist is going to be counter-productive because they're going to have to start giving us cookies to help with the blood loss.
So here are my own personal thoughts on flossing. It's meant to be done only the week before you go to the dentist. I'm sure they can tell you're only pretend flossing, but hey at least you thought about it. I mean really, why else would people do it!? It takes forever...or at least takes forever to penetrate the tiny cracks in the fortress walls of Mega Tooth. Since I can't seem to justify waking up earlier to do something I hate (flossing), I've started using those little dental flossers in the car on the way to work. This process has its pros and cons. For example, I can actually improve my dental hygiene and get to work on time, but it does put the whole Mega Tooth dilemma out in the open for everyone to see. So if you hear someone laughing about this girl they saw while driving that was trying to yank a flosser out of her teeth, but then had to give up and leave it in there so she could accomplish a left turn... don't laugh! Because it's not her fault...she has Mega Tooth Syndrome.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Club Car, Club Store
Since it was a weekend, me and my sisters had the privilege of all hanging out together. Which meant driving around, going to the store (to return an item), and eating fast food. It also meant we got to play one of our favorite games...Club Car! Along with its variation....Club Store! Here are the rules to the game.
Club Car:
Club Car:
- Choose a radio station with lots of mainstream hip hop music. (So basically any station)
- Crank it up and roll down the windows.
- Dance like you're in the club...(also drive carefully).
- Embarass Kiana
Club Store:
- Same as above but with department store music.
- Dance down the empty aisles like you're in the club.
- Embarass Kiana
My Name is Kelsie...and I'm a Shopaholic.
As you can see from the title, my name is Kelsie. If you're reading this, you probably already knew that though. I somewhat doubt anyone would specifically search for a random blog about nothing in general. Anyway, if my years of schooling has taught me anything, its that this paragraph should explain everything I'm going to ramble on about. In reality, that is not possible, because I'm not quite sure what that is yet. But I can explain why I'm writing...and just to be a rebel, I'll do it in the second paragraph (take that 10th grade English!).
I have recently graduated from college in Southern California and moved back to my bustling hometown in Washington. Let me be clear when I say bustling, I actually mean small mill town that no one has ever heard of. I fulfilled the American college student's dream when I moved back into my parents basement, where I share a bedroom with my other college-aged sister. Now just to redeem myself here, I can add that I do have a pretty good job and I live at home partially because I'd be lonely if I didn't. But anyway, back to the explanation. In moving home, I left most of my friends back in California and have found myself starting over. To add to that, I recently went through a break-up (we'll call it mutual, for the sake of keeping things peaceful). My free time has transitioned to going to the beach with friends and texting the boyfriend to babysitting my younger siblings and taking naps. So, with all this newly found spare time and disposable income, I have began spending my weekends in Ross and Macy's. And so began my decent into shopaholism.
Actually, I have several reasons for starting this blog, as you may have gathered from my short intro. It's time to branch out and share my random thoughts with the world and/or people who search for random blogs about nothing in general. Although I'd be lying if I said that avoiding the shopping binges on the weekends wasn't one of them. I may not really be a shopaholic, even though I'm pretty sure denial would be proving it.
I have recently graduated from college in Southern California and moved back to my bustling hometown in Washington. Let me be clear when I say bustling, I actually mean small mill town that no one has ever heard of. I fulfilled the American college student's dream when I moved back into my parents basement, where I share a bedroom with my other college-aged sister. Now just to redeem myself here, I can add that I do have a pretty good job and I live at home partially because I'd be lonely if I didn't. But anyway, back to the explanation. In moving home, I left most of my friends back in California and have found myself starting over. To add to that, I recently went through a break-up (we'll call it mutual, for the sake of keeping things peaceful). My free time has transitioned to going to the beach with friends and texting the boyfriend to babysitting my younger siblings and taking naps. So, with all this newly found spare time and disposable income, I have began spending my weekends in Ross and Macy's. And so began my decent into shopaholism.
Actually, I have several reasons for starting this blog, as you may have gathered from my short intro. It's time to branch out and share my random thoughts with the world and/or people who search for random blogs about nothing in general. Although I'd be lying if I said that avoiding the shopping binges on the weekends wasn't one of them. I may not really be a shopaholic, even though I'm pretty sure denial would be proving it.
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