Oh Christmas Eve, Oh Christmas Eve!

Today I:

Got up early (for me).

Ate lunch with my parents at F.Futs cafe' downtown Lenoir, NC.
We ordered their special pineapple sandwhiches only to discover half-way through that there was no pineapple on the sandwhich whatsoever. The second half was better with the added pineapple.

Watched my mom make a scene over our table made from a door.

Learned that the Lenoir - to - Hickory bridge was completed on Feb. 22 (my birthday) 1927 (not my birth-year).

Listened to my Winter Songs CD over and over as i wrapped presents.

Cut my finger with the scissors.

Tried on my Nana's mink stole.

Stared at the Christmas tree.


Now I am:

Eating celery with ranch dressing.

Going to our good friends the Moore's house for an evening of delectable food and delightful fun!


Merry Christmas Eve everyone! Be so Blessed!!!

He said what??

My good friend once told me,

"Clog with a large woman for me!!!"

This is the same friend who parked in the handicapped spot at the DMV as he was finishing up his driving test...safe to say, he didn't get his license that day :)

Holiday Recommendation

My new favorite holiday music compilation is the album "The Hotel Cafe' Presents: Winter Songs" It's the kind of album that makes you want to relax on the couch and stare into the fire as you sip hot cocoa, cider, or in my case a tall, nonfat, Chai Tea Latte from Starbucks :)

It's also nice to have on hand in the car to remind you of the Christmas Spirit you should be maintaining as you sit on Interstate 85 due to the unbelievable amount of vehicles trying to get off at the McAdenville exit to see the lights.

Either way, i love it. It is playing over and over again in my CD player and in my head.

Click here to preview the album:

http://www.hotelcafe.com/wintersongs/

My favorites are numbers 1, 2, 3, 11, 12, 15...ok, so i like them all. But the first song, Wintersong, by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson really is wonderful....just listen and love it, and have a Merriful Christmas.

PS - click on videos to watch the most adorable animated music video ever for Wintersong. I'm the girl in the pink scarf and hat (come on, you know you do that too...pick which character you want to be....or fight with your friend over who gets to be the one you both like.).

Brady Rose

With a name like that, you're destined to be a heartbreaker. And he most certainly was.

I was a junior in highschool the year my eyes first caught sight of the ever so dreamy Brady Rose. He had perfect everything...perfect blue eyes, perfect blonde hair, perfect teeth, perfect tan (which i could never have), perfect smile, perfect style, perfectly athletic and good at every sport he played, and perfectly charming. I had a crush. There was no denying it. I'm pretty sure i giggled everytime one of my friends mentioned his name. I also have several notebooks of evidence where i did the silly girl thing and wrote my name over and over again with his....or with his last name (embarrassing!!!): Melody and Brady. Brady and Melody. Melody Rose. Melody Christine Rose. Brady and Melody Rose 4EVER!!!

In my defense, there weren't many eligible boys at my school; in fact, there weren't many boys at all. So, when our sports teams played other highschools, i was always looking for a good prospect. And there he was. In his soccor uniform. Number 22. My birthday is the 22nd of February, so it had to be a sign from God. We shared something in common. I had a good excuse to watch him like a hawk during that soccor game. My dad was the coach of our boys team, and i kept the books for him. It also gave me a good excuse to mingle with the players and casually tell him "good game" when it was all over. That's when he looked me right in the eyes, smiled at me, and shook my hand and thanked me. And that's when it was all over for me. Sigh. I was in love with Brady Rose.
Awkward!!! Nothing makes you feel uncomfortable like the anguish of a highschool girl with a crush!
I counted down the days until we played his team again. Then i counted down the minutes until i could tell him "good game" again. Then i counted down the days until the tournament when we played his team in the championship game....and won. And of course, i went over and gave him the ritual "good game" and an added "you played really well...tough loss? (awkward smile)" I am %110 sure he didn't think twice about me that day. He had lost the game for his team at the last minute, and he was pretty upset about it. The last thing on his mind was the dorky girl that kept the books for the team that just beat his team.
Soccor season was over, and after an uneventful awards ceremony where i couldn't even catch his gaze once, i comforted myself with the prospect of basketball season.
My friends made me notes with songs about him and left pictures of roses in my locker. They totally encouraged my crush; told me he would be crazy not to like me. That's what good friends do, right?
Basketball season FINALLY rolled around and the night i had been waiting for arrived. I spent extra time on my hair and make-up that afternoon as i got ready in my cheerleading outfit. I arrived at the gym with butterflies in my stomach. Maybe he would notice me tonight. I went inside and started practicing our pathetic routine with the other cheerleaders. That's when he walked by...with some of his teammates...and smiled at me and said something. I don't remember what it was he said, and i'm sure he was only being polite since that's the kind of guy he was, but it was all i needed. I couldn't stop smiling. I'm sure i looked like an idiot with a big grin glued to my face. All night i secretly cheered for him when i was supposed to be cheering for my team (Are we all embarrassed for me yet?). I gave him the ritual "good game," and was sure that he was as happy to be hearing those words from me as i was to say them to him.
To make a long story short, i did the same thing the rest of basketball season that i did during soccor season. Nothing happened. The next year, my senoir year, arrived, and i looked forward to the prospect of seeing him again. Soccor season was the same. Basketball season was the same. By the time the baseketball tournament took place, i knew i had to make a move or spend the rest of my life wondering. So, i marched my nervous little self right up to him after the tournament and told him what a great player i thought he was. We held a decent conversation; turned out he was very easy to talk to when i could make my vocal chords work. The more we talked, the braver i got. I mean, he wouldn't be standing there talking to me like this if he didn't care for me at all, right? I took a deep breath and went for it.............................................................
........................................................................................................................................................................
NO, i didn't kiss him! I would never have had the nerve for that, plus i was pretty sure i would have been in trouble. I was scared to even think about kissing boys. haha!
I did ask him to prom though. That's what i wanted. Brady Rose taking me to my Senoir Prom. Walking in on his arm would have been the highlight of my highschool career. So i asked him. And he did the most increadible thing ever in the eyes of a highschool girl who'd never been on a date in her life. He asked me for my number. I'm pretty sure i stopped breathing for a second. Was i allowed to give him my number? Once i got my breathing under control, i gave it to him, and he wrote it down....ON HIS HAND. I could have died happy right there. A guy, a really really good looking guy, wrote my number on his hand, and then he told me HE WOULD CALL ME!!! Really??? Brady Rose was going to call me? I was going to go to prom with him??? I couldn't believe it. I have no clue how that conversation ended, but it did, and i immediately shared the good news with my girlfriends at a sound level that probably only dogs could hear.
Then the waiting began.
I waited.
Every day i waited.
Would he call me today?
Maybe tomorrow he would call me.
Maybe he would wait and call me on Valentine's Day.
By the phone i waited.
I would literally jump sometimes when it rang.
If my mom called me to the phone, i would get nervous. I just knew it would be him.
I imagined what he would say, and what i would say, and how much fun we would have at prom.
So i waited....a long time....hoping.

And he never called me.

I remember the night it hit me. He hadn't called because he never intended to call in the first place. I let the feelings of rejection and dissapointment wash over me, and i cried myself to sleep....more than once. The year before, 5 guys had turned me down for prom. My mom had finally called my brother for help, and one of his college friends took me. Lucky me, right? Not even close. The dude talked about how he could see ghosts, and then he sent me a letter basically asking me to marry him. WEIRD. Now, this year, my perfect prom was not going to happen because the perfect boy had turned me down. As sad as i was, i couldn't bring myself to hate him. He was still Brady Rose, and i still had a crush on him (why do girls do that to themselves??).

I went to my Senoir Prom with Robby Lacombe. He was an Abercrombie & Fitch model. He also worked at the local grocery store with one of my friends. She asked him for me, and he said yes. At least i had a date. And he was probably better looking than Brady, if i'm being honest. He was also a lot of fun and easy to talk to. And, he told me i looked like Nicole Kidman - definately a much needed boost for the self-esteem. OH, AND....he told the other boys they couldn't dance with me. That was a big deal; especially when he informed "Joe" that he could not dance with me. I had a history with "Joe" and he had broken my heart in the past. This boy pretty much thought he could waltz right into my life whenever he pleased and play with my emotions. Prom would have been the perfect place for that, but Robby flat out told him no way. Points for Robby.

Robby was a great prom date, but we never really talked again after that. I was still waiting around for someone to realize what he had missed out on and call me. Of course, that day never came.
I did see Brady one more time, though. I went to Liberty University for College for a Weekend, and he was there as well. Our paths crossed, and we ended up talking for a while at a Liberty Basketball game. That's when i realized how self-absorbed he really was. He kept talking about everything he could do, had done, or was going to do. It got old fast. Oh, and he was really self-righteous and religious. We all discussed going to a movie that night and he informed us, in so many words, that as a good Christian he couldn't go to the movies. He was going to stay in and read his Bible or something like that....yeahhhhhhhh right.
Having grown up in a very religious school where people were always doing things to show what good Christians they were, i was immediately turned off. The last thing i needed in my life was a religious boyfriend telling me how i was never doing anything right to be a "good Christian."

And so Brady Rose was no longer the epitime of the perfect guy in my life. He was still disgustingly good looking and charming, but i was over him. It was time to move on. Besides, i was going to college, and i was bound to meet someone better there....

sheesh

what is up with my spelling lately???
maybe i should try hooked-on-phonics?

quick overview of my day, yesterday

-practice for the upcoming Christmas Program during regular school hours

-monitor children in afterschool

-young student has an "accident" and is in need of new pants for the duration of afterschool

-afterschool ends

-drive to CVS to pick up a few things before going home

-young child vomits on my pants in aisle 3 of CVS

-i drive home with both windows open trying not to gag until i can get there and dispose of vomit soaked pants.

Hugs are...

Through the eyes of a first grader.

He makes me smile

So this is a picture one of my second graders made for me today. His name is Zack and he is simply the best! He always knows how to make Miss Loss smile!

It is myself, a puppy, and Zack. I am on the left. That circle below my head is my belly. Zack thinks its funny to draw everyone with a big belly. I have to agree with him!

You haven't snacked til you've snacked with us

So i've been home for Thanksgiving this weekend, and last night i spent some quality time making memories with my good best friend Amanda Renee (it's French!) Parsons.

We decided to bring a little life to the small towns of Lenoir, Granite Falls, and Hickory, NC. Not a difficult thing to do when you've got the two of us together. We pretty much laugh all the time. About EVERYTHING.

Well, round about the midnight hour or so Amanda got a slight craving for a little snackeroo (snack). I'm thinking McDonald's, Wendy's, Jack in the Box, something of that nature.

Wrong.

We pull into a gas station. She looks at me and says, "I'll be right back."

Ok. Great. Getting some gum?

Wrong again.

About two minutes later she strolls out the front door of the gas station with a grocery bag in hand. I'm staring at it trying to figure out why there is an abnormally long stick in that bag.

What did you get????

She hops in the car, and drops her purchase on the seat beside me, grinning.

"So, i got 5 packs of combos, one beef stick, and a diet coke!"
"You got WHAT? How many packs of combos??? Are you serious?"
"Yep!"

Hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it.

We immediately begin doing work on the combos. We had Original, Cheddar Cheese, and Pizza (my favorite). About two bags deep, she decides she wants to open the beef stick. The only problem is, she can't get it open. I try. I fail. I'm wondering how in the world we are going to open this stubborn beef stick when a light bulb turns on in my head.

Don't try this at home. I borrow her cousin's lighter and hold the flame to the end of the beef stick wrapper. Bingo! The beef stick is open. And it's surprisingly delicious. You know you want one right now. We washed it all down with the diet coke and sat back satisfied with our late night snack. Who knew the evening would lead to such a smorgasbord of flavorful goodness??

In the words of my dear BFF: "Five packs of combos, one beef stick, and a diet coke later, we're good to go!!!!"

Just wanted to say Thank You

There was much chaos and confusion that revolved around my growing up years (mostly the later ones) as a result of the school I attended from 3rd grade - 12th grade.

BUT....inspite of everything....i have found things (people, really) to be truly thankful for.


My best friend.
Circumstances should have torn us apart, but they didn't. We are stronger than ever, and i know the Lord put us together because 1) He likes to laugh, and 2) He knew i would need someone like her to walk through life with me.
I wish everyone could have a friend like her.

Mrs. Arlene Neal.
She is the reason i write. She showed me the way and taught me to love words. Her classes were always fun and creative. I remember when i first met her i was afraid of her (hah!), but now i have nothing in my heart but love and respect for her. She is an amazing woman. She was fair in her treatment of the students (unlike most of the other teachers), and i knew she cared about each one of us by the way she was constantly speaking truth in love. She never raised her voice to scare us into submission or obediance. She would simply sit on her stool at the front of the classroom and address us like we were adults. Occasionally, there would be a fire in her eyes, but it was never out of anger; she simply wanted the best for us.

Mr. John Grubbs.
He is the reason i love astronomy. He is probably one of the smartest people you could ever meet. He knows everything about everything. You can literally see his mind working as he talks. He taught me math and science. Subjects that weren't my best, but if he was teaching, i always understood. He wanted us to understand. He wasn't at the front of the class to brag and show off his brains and abilities (or cowboy hat, boots, and belt). He really and truly wanted us to learn. And if i'm honest with myself, even though they were subjects i wasn't particularly fond of, when something finally did click in my slow working brain, i was genuinely excited about it. Only an excellent teacher can cause a student who seriously doesn't like math to be excited about it. He was a humble man who would never ask for recognition, but he deserved it more than anyone else. Yet, he was content to sit in the background and answer the tough questions while everyone else got the glory for it. He also refused to play favorites.

These two teachers are what i see when i look back and say, "Lord, where were you in all of this?" He was there...in both of them. They were a safe place for students. They loved us purely and unconditionally like the Lord loves us. I can't remember one instance in which either of these teachers ever made me feel awkward or not good enough or unimportant or hellbound (unlike our principal who told many of us we just weren't quite saved). They gave us hope, and showed us the love of God when everyone else was telling us we couldn't and wouldn't be good enough.

And of course Amanda, my best friend, has always been and always will be a light in any darkness that might come my way.

For these three people i am so thankful. They are one of God's many good gifts in my life.

I am so blessed!

In keeping with the season

These were my instuctions for the 3rd graders today:

"Class, these papers have the word 'Thanksgiving' written on them. You are to write as many words as you can think of using the letters from the word 'Thanksgiving.' You may begin."

Ten minutes later i'm checking over a child's list"

Thanks

Giving

Sing

Think

Thong

Sang

Wait a minute. Did i read that right?

Thong

Stiffle a laugh (how old am i anyway???)

"Umm, hun, you might wanna take a look at that fifth word in your list. There's no 'O' in Thanksgiving."

"Oh YEAH! That was supposed to be Thing!"

So he re-writes it. I check it later.

Thang

Sigh...Should i even bother?

then there was that year i played on the basketball team...

My small, insignificant, private Christian school did not have enough students for a basketball team, much less a girls basketball team, until i was in the 8th grade. In fact, we had no sports programs whatsoever until the basketball program took shape that year. We were all excited. Finally, something to showcase our skills (or lack thereof), something to do in the long, boring, winter afternoons, something to get us out of class early, something that suddenly brought with it an undying sense of school pride, something that meant one day we might have a cheerleading team, and...something that brought with it the possibility of meeting some cute guys! Oh yeah! I mean, it was slim pickins at my school, and that's putting it nicely.
So, we took a school-wide vote on a team name and colors. We were the Cavaliers, and much to my chagrin, our colors were the same as those of my least favorite college basketball team...the UNC Tarheels. Whatever. That was just something i had to get over. The most exciting part of being on the basketball team, at least for me, was the prospect of new shoes. I mean, a girl couldn't be expected to run up and down that court in anything less than some totally cool basketball shoes, right? Right. So i told my parents, and my dad packed me in the car and drove me to the mall in search of the perfect basketball shoes.

Brace yourselves for this one.

I did not come home with Nike's, or Adidas, or New Balance, or Converse, or anything else even remotely cool. Instead, i proudly laced up my, and i can't believe i actually picked them, my new FILA's. FILA??? What was i thinking??? Nobody wears FILA; especially not skinny, little, freckle-faced, albino girls like me. I know i totally looked like a fish out of water in those ginormous high-tops. They swallowed my ankles whole and then some. AND, the dark, navy FELT (felt???) rim around the top only accentuated my bright, white legs. But, ignorance is bliss, and i knew i would play better just because those shoes were on my feet. hah. haha. HAHA.

The team was formed, i made the cut (they needed players), we all got uniforms, and the first day of practice arrived. Oh boy.

We were at the Granite Falls recreation center. I'll never forget it. NONE of us knew what we were doing. Except for my best friend. She had been playing basketball since she could walk. She was amazing. Thank goodness we had her. Our poor coach, her father, probably would have quit right then and there if it hadn't been for her. I don't think i could really even dribble the ball. I remember running suicides and thinking i was going to die. Every time someone threw the ball to me, i shied away and ended up chasing it halfway across the gym. My coach told me to go home and try to rip the lids off of soup cans. He made me do fingertip push ups...well, he told me to, and i tried. I couldn't even do a normal push up, much less a fingertip push up.
As the season went on and practice continued, i began to wonder if i was really cut out for this whole basketball thing. A lot of the girls started shaping up and getting much better, and i just kept dropping the ball, missing shots, forgetting to plant my feet, missing free throws, and doing everything else i wasn't supposed to do. I couldn't bring myself to quit though. All my friends were on the team, and if nothing else, practice was always good for a laugh; usually inspired by me and my lack of talent. I had no clue what the plays were, me setting a pick was a joke, and my defense was even less believable. But i tried. I tried really hard. I did. I wanted to be a good basketball player. My coach even told me i had the prettiest shot on the team...it was just that i usually didn't make that shot.
Finally, the first game rolled around. We were psyched. I forgot all about my isufficiencies, and got caught up in the hype with everyone else. We were matched up against Harris Chapel Christian Academy. At that time, they were pretty good. I remember the ride to the game. The girls team rode together in the back of a white work van. We cut up and giggled the whole way there, imagining what it would be like to come back with our first win.
I still remember how it felt to sit in that small classroom before the game for our first pep talk ever. Our coach was proud of us. He told us he was, and that he was sure we would do well. Looking back, he probably should have reminded us to shoot the ball in the right basket.
My excitement instantly hit an all-time high when we entered the gym to warm up. Everyone was cheering and yelling for us! Kids came up to give us high fives. Parents hugged us and wished us luck. Sweet! I loved being on stage, and in many ways the basketball court was like a stage. The pre-game clock ran out and we all headed to our bench (folding chairs). I have no idea why, but my coach started me. I could not wait to hear my name called. When it was finally my turn, i ran out to the very center of the court, bowed, and waved enthusiastically to my parents. I should have been taken out then...before the game even started. We take our places (i had to be reminded where mine was), the whistle blows, and the game begins. Five million thoughts flood through my mind: Is someone going to pass me the ball? Will i catch it? Which basket is ours again? Who's on my team? Do i have a wedgie? Can i get it out without anyone seeing? Are my socks even? How do my shoes look? I wonder where that girl on the other team got her shoes? Will i meet any cute guys tonight? Am i running the right direction? What play did our guard call? Please DON'T pass me the ball!
The most vivid part of the game for me, besides when one of my teammates shot the ball in the wrong goal (still thanking God it wasn't me), happened while i was guarding the best player for the other team (how in the world i got matched up with her is still a mystery to me). She was kind of scary. She looked a little manly, and she had on these really long, striped socks. She kind of reminded me of Pippy Longstockings. She never smiled (and i always smiled...even on defense), and she sort of had a mustache (probably because her hair was so dark...who knows? maybe she was taking steroids in high school?). Anyway, i was doing my best to guard her. I ran myself weary making sure she didn't get the ball. I must have been doing a good job because she then did something i'll never forget. We were under her basket. She was trying to get open, but i was on her like white on rice. All the sudden, she reached out and poked me HARD in the chest. It totally caught me off guard. I couldn't believe it. You're allowed to do that??? I'm sure it showed on my face. I was stunned. I looked at the ref and back at her and back at the ref. I watched everyone run to the other end of the court, realized my coach was yelling at me, and ran to catch up with them.
We lost that game. By a LOT. Our guys played after us, and they lost too. By a LOT. It was safe to say there would be many losses in our future before the wins came along. But it was still fun. And despite the fact that scary, manly girl had invaded my personal space, all in all it was a good night.
I got somewhat better as the year went on. I remember making my first shot and celebrating until my coach yelled at me to act like i'd made a lay-up before. Oops.
We finally got in a groove as a team. I didn't start. I came in the game when we needed two points. That's what i was good for. The coach would put me in, and i would run down the court, plant my feet, and stop right inside the 3 point line. Then my best friend, the star of our team and point guard, would pass me the ball. It would barely rest in my hands as i turned to direct it towards the basket. Swoosh. It was almost a given for that shot to go in. The whistle would blow. I was back out of the game. The game would end, and the most important decision of the night would be where to eat dinner.
Basketball was fun, but at the end of that year, i decided it just wasn't for me. More than one person told me i looked more like a ballerina than a basketball player on the court. I opted to not try out for the team the following year, and instead followed my true calling: Cheerleading.
I still got to go to all the games, and i got to wear a shorter skirt than the dresscode manual allowed. Plus, i had a good excuse to be in front of the crowd putting on a show....and i didn't have to worry about looking sweaty in front of all those new boys i was hoping to meet.

Kindergarten Conversation

Sammy: "Miss Loss, are you married?"

Me: "No Sammy, i'm not."

Sammy: (eyes wide, mouth dropping open) "OH!"

Me: "Is there a problem Sammy?"

Sammy: "Teachers are supposed to be married!"

Robbie: "Do you like have a boyfriend or something?"

Me: "Nope."

Tito: "Maybe you should meet someone in your neighborhood that you haven't met before."

Me: "Good idea Tito."

Emily: "But then he would be a stranger. We can't talk to strangers."

Ziyanah Grace: "You could marry Pastor Walter!"

Me: "Well Ziyanah Grace, Pastor Walter is an awesome man, but he's already married to Maverick's mommy."

Maverick: "Yeah! Beat that!"

Let me introduce you to....

MY NEW BOYFRIEND!!!

haha! "All the single ladies" should totally have one....right K?? :)

This is actually the last of the halloween candy left over at our house...apparently no one likes Sugar Daddys anymore? I tried to eat one, but barely even made it 1/4 of the way through. Talk about pulling your teeth out of your head.

Sorry

Translation: Dear Miss Loss. I am sorry for my dehavior. Tito

This is one of the four apology notes i received from the Kindergarten class today. You see, we usually have PE on Fridays, and they are outside running around, exercising their muscles and their voice boxes. Today, it rained. We did not have PE. We had Spanish. INSIDE. WHILE IT RAINED OUTSIDE. ON A FRIDAY. Unfortunately, several of the Kindergartener's (is that a word??) voice boxes did not get the memo. Instead, i got four apology notes. And yes, i do have a student named Tito (rhymes with Cheeto).

Macho Macho Man

This is what happens when you tell 3rd grade boys to draw flowers.

The same boy who drew this picture asked me in class today if i had a boyfriend. When i told him no, he replied, "You need a boyfriend, Miss Loss. They are good for taking care of you."

I love my job :)

Photo compliments of the young Matthew Jones, 3rd Grade.

Sometimes...

sometimes
unwilling
to let them get the best of me
they sit on the rim of my lids
and dry up before overflowing

sometimes
unnoticed
they slip out the corner of my eye
brushed away quickly
before others can follow

sometimes
unstoppable
they rush down my face
streaking my cheeks with grey trails
spotting my shirt like raindrops

sometimes
unrelenting
they bring a storm of emotion
soaking my pillow
breaking my heart

always
abiding
He is there
catching each one
holding me close...calming the storm

~Melody Loss
Nov. 6, 2008

just a galaxy, passing through

How cool is this???? I saw it on my Daily Nasa Photo, and had to read more about it. Wanna know how the galaxy on the right obtained it's current composition? Read this...it's ridiculously amamzing!!

(taken from the Nasa webpage)

Just a few days after the orbiting observatory was brought back online, Hubble aimed its prime working camera, the Wide Field Planetary Camera 2 (WFPC2), at a particularly intriguing target, a pair of gravitationally interacting galaxies called Arp 147.

This image scores a "perfect 10" both for performance and beauty, demonstrating that the camera works exactly as it did before going offline.

The two galaxies are oriented so that they appear to mark the number 10. The left-most galaxy, or the "one" in this image, is relatively undisturbed apart from a smooth ring of starlight. It appears nearly on edge to our line of sight. The right-most galaxy, resembling a zero, exhibits a clumpy, blue ring of intense star formation.

The blue ring was most probably formed after the galaxy on the left passed through the galaxy on the right. Just as a pebble thrown into a pond creates an outwardly moving circular wave, (go back and read that part again and try not to let your jaw drop) a propagating density wave was generated at the point of impact and spread outward. As this density wave collided with material in the target galaxy that was moving inward due to the gravitational pull of the two galaxies, shocks and dense gas were produced, stimulating star formation.

The galaxy pair was photographed on October 27-28, 2008. Arp 147 lies in the constellation Cetus, more than 400 million light-years from Earth.

Image Credit: NASA, ESA, and M. Livio (STScI)

Comparing galxies to pebbles...i can't even wrap my mind around that.

Wendell Wilkie

Remembered as the 1940 Republican presidential candidate who lost to Franklin D. Roosevelt by nearly 5 million votes.

I figured with the election tomorrow, i should tell my readers (all 12 of you) a story about politics. Get ready to ride....

When i was in the 7th grade, my English Class was combined with the 8th graders. That's what you do when you go to a small Christian school. You combine classes. You also tend to have to give up your classroom for many various reasons. So on this lovely afternoon, we were having English in the Library. Our Library was about the size of a small kitchen. It held two computers and a gazillion national geographic magazines. There were also some books. haha! It was split down the middle by a bookshelf. The left side of the room held the desk where you checked out your books, and the right side held a round table that our small, combined class managed to fit around. There was also a white board and a world map on the wall. And windows that gave all us poor kids barely making it at the expensive Christian school a nice view of the Principal's mansion. And greenhouse. Yes, i just said greenhouse. They had a greenhouse. Oh, and a boat.
So anyway, being the excellent grammar student that i was (toot! toot! (that's me tooting my own horn)), our teacher, Mrs. Neal, left me in charge with the Teacher's Edition Answer Key book. I was to call out the answers so everyone else could check their homework. Clearly, i was not ready for this kind of power. Right away, the first sentence threw me off task. I can't remember exactly what it said, but it was something to the extent of, "Wendell Wilkie lost the election to FDR in 1940." Wendell Wilkie?? Wendell Wilkie!?!? WENDELL WILKIE!!! Talk about a fun name to say. I just couldn't get over it. Never heard of the guy before, but immediatly LOVED his name. Then i decided he needed a special voice. So i made one up for him. I continued to use that voice as i read more sentences and called out more answers. Well, my classmates did not have the same enthusiasm and appreciation for this man. Sorry Wendell. I refused to quit, and that's when it all went downhill. I have to tell you, for Christian school kids, we could be pretty coniving and mischievious. And by we i mean everyone else. Not me. I was just having fun with a name and a voice. They were plotting to shut me up....forever. duh-duh-duh (that's the scary music).
This is how it all went down:
I'm innocently sitting in my chair at the round table, swinging my legs back and forth, annoyed by the run in my required-by-dresscode pantyhose, and calling out answers as i perfect my Wendell Wilkie voice. Meanwhile, THEY are up out of their seats, one grabbing my legs from under the table, one grabbing the back of my chair, and the other two grabbing my arms. Before i could say, "Wendell!" My chair was rudely yanked out from under me, and my chin went on a blind date with the table top. SMACK! It hurt. badly. I don't think i cried though. I don't remember crying. I just remember being EXTREMELY upset. My pride was hurting worse than my chin. But, i was able to get over in time to laugh hysterically with everyone else at the humor in it all. It was pretty funny.
We came to our senses and got ourselves together before the teacher came back. In a small Christian school (really just the one i went to) antics like that will earn you a double detention at the most, note sent home at the very least. We didn't want either. The bell rang, school ended, we were in the clear.
Yeah, right.
One of my classmates had to go and run his big mouth (bless his heart - saying that makes it ok for me to make fun of him, right?), and the next thing we knew, we were all lined up outside the principal's office receiving our pink slips to inform our parents of our upcoming detention. Great. Not only did i have whiplash and a sore chin, but now i was going to have to scrub the baseboards in the bathroom with a toothbrush. No joke. That's what we did in detention. After we found a verse in the Bible that explained why our actions were wrong, and we had written at least a page about it (talk about learning some BS skills (yes mother, i know you're cringing at those letters, but no one would know what i meant if i said DW (Donkey Waste)).
In the end though, i made out better than the guy who told on us. See, he was the only boy in our small gang of "criminal students going to hell in a handbasket," so he had to scrub the boys bathroom by himself while all us girls got to scrub the girls bathroom together. Bless his heart.

Heighth of Romance

Hey baby, let's me and you go over to taco bell and get us one of them chalupa combos. We'll split it and put two straws in our cup so it's all romantical. I got something i wanna ask you, but i can't do it without the help of my good friend, Hot Sauce. So whadya think? If you say yes, i'll go get you one of them rings out of that plastic machine over there. Didn't wanna jump the gun and waste a perfectly good quarter if you was gonna say no. Three more of them things and i could get me another soft taco.

I think you made a good choice, baby. Let's celebrate with some pintos and cheese. I'll even let ya shift gears in the 'ol pickup on the way back. Mind if i eat that last bite?

(if your eyes are bad, that blurry photo is a pack of hot sauce with "will you marry me?" written on it.)

Let's Go DUKE!

I'm sorry...was that a bit premature?

I was just thinking about basketball season and got a little carried away.

(however, they are having a pretty good football season this year, considering it's DUKE we're talking about)

So, can anybody name that player??

(Besides, my mother, my brother, my father, and my best friend? Hmmm, that's pretty much everyone who reads my blog...maybe i'll let you guys answer...)

Oh, we decked it!

So being the jump-the-gun, let's-get-to-it, it's-now-or-never kind of a person that i am, i went to Kelly's (really it's Dustin's) apartment yesterday evening to enjoy Thanksgiving Dinner and decorate for Christmas. True, October isn't even over yet, and people generally put out pumpkins and bales of hay (that yellow stuff horses eat that makes you all itchy after a wagon ride full of it) this time of year, but last night we just couldn't resist the Christmas fever. Plus, I really wanted turkey (we settled for a rotisserie chicken) and dressing.

Kelly made the most amazing yams ever, deviled eggs, green beans, stuffing, "turkey," gravy, and cranberry sauce. DE-LICIOUS. I was stuffed to the point of feeling the need to unbutton that top button on my pants (too much information?). OH, and sweet tea....really sweet tea...that cracked her pitcher, leaving us with no choice but to ladel it out of the pot. God bless the South.

After dinner, out come the trees and decorations. We got all merry and festive as we hung ornaments and drank wassail. There was pumpkin pie too, but i think we were all way too stuffed to even look at it. By the end of the night, the spell of Christmas had definately been cast and woven throughout the cozy apartment. The lights cast a warm, lazy glow throughout the room. The moment was perfect. Sigh....if only i could lay under the tree from now until January 1st.

Peripheral Vision

A part of vision that occurs outside the very center of gaze.

The stars are so pretty this time of year.
I can't help but stop and stare at them often.
It was cold outside, but i had to look.
I saw a man running down the street in his jogging suit.
He has more dedication than me, i think.
I only lasted for 15 minutes in the cold.
He is still running.

I like all the stars.
I go through and pick out each constellation.
My gaze strays to Pleiades, The Seven Sisters.
This cluster never fails to capture my attention.
There is a quality of mystery about Her.
She is seen the clearest when viewed through peripheral vision.
I love that.

Beautiful.
Breathtaking.
Constant.
Pure.
Stunning.

My teeth are chattering.
I take one long, last, wistful gaze at the mesmerizing lights.
Then i see it.
A shooting star.
Hope fills my heart...

Things

Book you MUST read ASAP : The Shack by William P. Young

This book totally broke down all the boxes i have ever tried to put God in and completely reconstructed the way I think about Him. It was sooooo refreshing to read as it put "religion" in it's place. I will most likely be reading it over and over again. If you haven't read it yet, make it a priority and just do it! You won't regret it. I promise. If you'd like to find out more about it, click here: http://theshackbook.com/


New Favorite CD: Opposite Way by Leeland

This is their website: http://www.leelandonline.com/oppositeway/main

This is their Myspace page if you want to listen: http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=33022072

My good friend Justin Kyle Hasty (http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=12105085) recomended this CD to me, and it is AMAZING. I love it. You should listen. You'll like it. I promise.


Looking Forward to:
1) Wingate Univeristy Homecoming!
Wingate (rhymes with eight) is my Alma Mater. Homecoming is Friday, November 7th and Saturday November 8th. I am looking forward to seeing all my old friends, classmates, and professors. I'm also looking forward to watching the Bulldogs kick some tail (hopefully!)

2) Amanda's visit.
Amanda, aka Moppit, is my bestest and closest friend. We have known each other since kindergarten (blog waiting to happen). We went to school together every year, with the exception of 3rd grade, until we graduated highschool. She lives in Raleigh now, and i am actually in Raleigh with her this weekend, visiting and catching up, and she will be coming to stay with me next weekend. This is her blog, if you'd like to discover a little more about her: http://confidentnotcocky.blogspot.com/ She is quite the character. :)

3) Christmas
Yes, i know we haven't even made it to Thanksgiving yet...or Halloween for that matter, but i am psyched about Christmas. I LOVE CHRISTMAS!!! It is the best time of the year (besides the Fourth of July, which is my other favorite holiday). My friend Kelly and I have already been buying decorations for a tree i don't have. I'm just going to put my ornaments on her tree, and listen to her fireside CD while gazing lovingly upon it's ornamented boughs. Ahhhhh....i can already feel the magic.

I just don't have the heart to correct him.

According to one of my first graders, i have married a man with the last name of Flos. I hope he's handsome. Haha! Maybe this is prophetic, and one day i will be Melody Loss Flos. I mean, come on...how great would that be??

Unsung Hero

You know when you get that question, "so tell me about your heroes," and then you have to stop and think, and you want to say someone really awesome that everyone will be like, "yeah..totally." Well, aside from my parents, i hadn't really thought about anyone else who could fill that position in my life. Then there's the Sunday School answer: Jesus, but i kind of cringe when i hear myself saying that. Not that i don't love Him because i do, He's great!!! BUT, i've been really thinking hard lately about who my heroes are, and finally it hit me. DUH. Why i hadn't thought of this person before, i don't know, but i can say with complete confidence that he's been my hero for my whole life. I just didn't realize it 'til the other day.
He's been around longer than i have. Two years and 1 month longer than me to be exact.

He is my brother.

It was just the two of us growing up, and we spent so much time together building Lego forts, playing with match box cars, Transformers, My Little Pony (the only girl thing he would play with me because they were horses.), G.I. Joe, Nintendo (the original one where you save the Princess), and the list goes on and on forever. We built forts together outside. There were fake campfires under the Evergreen and Magnolia trees that grew in the yard of our childhood home. We would get plastic containers from the kitchen and make delicious meals out of dirt, leaves, and pinecones. Yummy. We spent hours pushing each other on the tire swing singing loudly at the top of our lungs songs like, "ON TOP OF OLD SMOOOOOOOOOOKEY!!!!!!" We'd swim circles in our small, above ground, 3ft. deep swimming pool until we had the best water vortex that two skinny, freckled faced, red-headed children could muster up. We'd ride our bikes up and down the dirt hill beside our house and down the road to the yellow Slow Children sign. That was our limit when we were little. Don't go past the Slow Children sign. HAH! As we got older, he helped me pass Algebra I and II, Geometry, and anything else that required mathmatical thinking. We threw the BEST parties ever in our basement and hung out with our friends discussing and solving the problems of the world (or our small world). I cheered loudly for him and waved my pom poms in support at all his basketball games. I kept the books and rode with him, my dad, and the rest of the soccer team to all his games during soccer season. I don't think anyone (besides my dad) was prouder than me when they beat Metrolina Christian his senior year and were named Tournament and Season Champs. That was the year he stepped up and played goalie because no one else wanted to, and he did an amazing job at it.
I cried when we left him at Montreat college the fall of his freshman year. When we got home that evening, I curled up on his bed and slept and cried. I cried at the rehearsal dinner before his wedding when i told his bride to be that she would now be the one to hold his hand (when we were little, he was obsessed with holding my hand).
I've always looked up to him, wanted to be like him, and respected him for who he is. We are different, my brother and i. One of us is right-brained, and the other is left-brained. I don't know who is what, but we are not the same. We are family, though. He is my brother and i love him for all the ways he is different from me. It makes life fun. He's always stood up for what he believed was right and good, whether or not it was popular. He just doesn't care what other people think enough to sacrifice what he knows to be true. That takes a strong man.
In highschool, he was kind enough to drive me everywhere because i was afraid to drive (did not get my license until i was 18 and on my way out the door to college). Because of this, we spent a lot of time in the car together.
I can remember vividly one night when we were on our way back from a sort of "camp-out" at some of our highschool friends house. We had been there for a while, hanging out around the campfire singing and goofing off. At the time, i had a HUGE crush on one of my brother's friends. He knew, and he of course didn't like the idea. This boy that i was crushing on did not have the best reputation with girls and their hearts. Still, i was a stubborn girl, and i just knew that this guy liked me. He had been flirting with me and talking to me for months now. I had planned on this campfire night being AMAZING. Well, this guy ignored me the whole night. Talked to everyone but me, flirted with my friends, and pretty much made me feel like crap (sorry mom, i know you hate that word, but that's how he made me feel). When we finally got in my brother's car (1965 Corvair) and drove off, i broke down into tears and started sobbing. My brother knew instantly what was wrong. I remember him hitting the stearing wheel because he was so upset and saying something like, "i knew this would happen!" He was angry with his "friend" for treating me like that, and it meant so much to me to know that he wanted to protect and defend me in those situations.
Now he lives in a house with his beautiful wife and two children, teaches math at a local college, and leads the youth group at his church. I love going home to visit him and catching up on life with him and his family. He is way overdue a thank you for being such a wonderful brother and his sister couldn't ask for a better hero than he has been to her. I love him so much.

Stair Scare

According to http://www.phobialist.com/#B i have Climacophobia: fear of stairs, climbing or falling downstairs.
yes, i know i have just admitted something that probably makes you wonder if i'm secretly doing drugs on the side, but i'm not. I'm just clumsy....around stairs....a lot.
I've gotten to the point that when i am at the top of the stairs i have to ignore/refuse to see the image of myself falling down them. Otherwise, i'm scared to actually descend the steps. If i hadn't spent so many times falling, i wouldn't feel this way, but unfortunately, i have tumbled and not stepped to my destination more than i care to remember lately.
My most recent trip happened Saturday. My roommates were gone. Both work the nighshift at their jobs and are out of the house by 6. There was a note near the bottom of my steps asking me to please feed the dogs. It was beside 2 cups of dogfood. Easy enough.

I should have known better.

I decided to feed the dogs on my way out to meet one of my friends that evening. I finished getting ready a little later than i had planned. I was rushing. Bad idea. Down the steps i go. The cups remind me that the dogs are waiting patiently for me to feed them. With approximately 5 steps left, i bend over, grab the cups of food, stand back up, and step down with my left foot. It goes forward while the right one refuses to move. My heel is stuck on the carpet. Oh great. Here we go again. In slow motion my knees hit the steps in front of me. I watch my arms come foward over my head and wince as my elbows land on the bottom step. At last, my head rests on the floor just below the stairs. Breathe. I can still breathe. This is good. Am i ok? What hurts? Move things. The first thing i notice is that one cup of food is still sitting completely upright in my hand, food in place, while the other cup is across the room, it's contents scattered everywhere. I groan, then pull my legs down to be with the rest of me at the bottom of the stairs. My right foot and ankle are very pink, and i'm feeling confident that a nice carpet burn is on the way. My elbows are surprisingly ok. My right knee has begun growing a goose egg on top of the knee cap, but i can walk. Walking is good. After convincing myself that bumps and bruises are the worst of my injuries, i fill the spilled cup, feed the dogs, and walk out the door past the scattered food. The dogs can eat it when i get home.

Just bearing my soul a little

I have what i refer to as "rescue syndrome." If something or someone needs help, fixing, rescuing, etc., i really try my best to do it. It's hard for me to say "no." I know in my heart that i am not the One who can fix everything, but i still have this urge to try. On the positive side of things, i'm pretty sure i've never been able to succeed in fixing anything, so i am totally relieved that it's not up to me. I don't have to bear that burden. I am not responsible.
There is a song that describes perfectly my initial feelings in a recent situation in my life. It is called "Watch Over You" and it is sung by a group called Alter Bridge.

"Watch Over You"

Leaves are on the ground
Fall has come
Blue skies turning grey
Like my love

I tried to carry you
And make you whole
But it was never enough
I must go

[Chorus:]
Who is gonna save you
When I'm gone?
And who'll watch over you
When I'm gone?

You say you care for me
But hide it well
How can you love someone
And not yourself?

[Chorus]

And when I'm gone
Who will break your fall?
Who will you blame?

I can't go on
And let you lose it all
It's more than I can take
Who'll ease your pain?
Ease your pain

[Chorus:]
And Love is gonna save you
When I'm gone.Who'll watch over you,
When I've gone away?

Snow is on the ground
Winters come
You long to hear my voice
But I'm long gone


At first, i thought this song seemed a little hopeless, but then i saw the line, " Love is gonna save you when i'm gone. So true...Jesus is the ultimate lover, healer, protector, defender, rescuer, and He can and will do it. Maybe the artist didn't have that in mind when he wrote this song, but it's still true. And that gives me hope. I'm off the hook. I couldn't do it. I never will be able to do it, but He can and wants to even if we don't want Him to. Even if we spit on his face, curse His name, and mock His death. He still wants to. That's the kind of Love that saves people. Way better than anything i could ever offer, and i'm so thankful for it.

Weekend Update

So about the rest of that weekend...

1) Return of the WEB!!! YES! Can i tell you how THRILLED and DELIGHTED i was Saturday evening when i came back home from hanging out with my good, best, gal friend Amanda Renee Parsons, AND THERE WAS A NEW WEB IN THE SAME SPOT!!! Madame Spiney Legs, was sitting there all fat and sassy, hanging over from another good time on the web. Not that my parents have an alcoholic spider chillin on their front porch. If it's at my parents' house, it's abstaining completely. Wow. That just happened.
2) We had a wild and crazy joint birthday party for my mom and dad at my brother's house. Let the good times roll! The best part was that my dad had requested Kenny Chesney's song, Shiftwork, for his birthday. HAHA! You have to know my dad to know how funny that is. So, being the wonderful daughter that i am, i bought him the whole CD. We listened to Kenny and George belt it out while we ate chocolate cake. You should have seen my mom's face when the lyric, "a big 'ol pile of shiiiiiiiiift work!" was sung. She promptly turned to my dad and said with exasperation in her voice, "DON!!!!!"
"What??" he says. "The lady at the gas station always has a bunch of paper-work on the counter when i go in there. Isn't that what this song is talking about? Shiftwork??" My dad is the greatest!!
3) Speaking of my dad, he locked his keys out of the car at Starbucks. My mom and i left to take his keys to him, and right after she stepped out of the house and locked the door, she realized she had the wrong keys. And she couldn't get back in the house because there was no house key on the set she had. Nor was there a key to her car. (i come by it honestly. locked myself out at the bank last month.) Fortunately, we had the key to my car. We drove to Starbucks to meet my dad and explain the situation. To our good fortune, his window was down a healthy inch and a half. "Melody," my mom says, "You have a bunch of junk in your car (thanks mom). Think you've got something we can stick down the window and pop open that lock?" So i go to my trunk, fish around for a few, find a snorkle i had no idea was there, push past the Christmas decorations and my robe from college graduation, and there it is. A thing. And this thing will work perfectly. I have no idea what it is but it's long and has a small 'L' piece sticking out at the bottom. It goes right in the window and ba-da-bing! the door is unlocked! I'm totally going into the business.

Caldwell County: Home of the Mullet...and 2 Wal-marts

I love going home. Not to stay, of course. I would go stir crazy in the small town of Lenoir, NC. Too many hicks and rednecks and people with absolutely no idea of fashion sense. To them, crocs are the hippest thing going (and to me, crocs are the ugliest shoe ever - no offense to those of you who wear them!). And probably skorts...skorts are pretty high on the fashion market in my home town as well...sigh.
Anyway, i am here this weekend to celebrate the birthdays of my marvelous parents, and these are just a few highlights of my visit so far. Ahhh yes, i just love going home!

1) Watching the Friday Night Smack Down on local cabel with my father, the Right Reverand, and my mother, all things prim and proper.
2) Having only local cabel so that once the Smack Down goes off, we sit and watch infomercials of 70's musicians for thirty minutes.
3) The ridiculously HUGE spider web that spans about 3 feet across the front porch. We find it entertaining to throw moths and other unsuspecting critters into the web and watch the Lady of the Web (big hairy spider) drop down instantly and paralyze it with her venemous spikey thing and then wrap it completely in the white silky stuff. Then she hangs it somewhere on her web for later, and when she is hungry she goes and sucks out the insides she wants and throws the rest off the web and onto the ground (yes, we have watched all these things happen. It's better than National Geographic).
4) Having the ever-so-helpful Bethel Guys around to "protect us from huge spiders and their webs." To our grave disapointment, we were unwillingly rescued this morning when a Bethel Guy rudely ripped the web out of it's place so that the spider would not hurt Princess (our small dog). I think i'll go find his room today and completely wreck it.
5) Cheerios and Nectarines (pictured) for breakfast with my mom at 11:30 in the morning. After getting up at 6 am for the past couple of days, it was nice to finally NOT watch the sun rise and brag about how it slept later than i did. Phhhhbtt!
6) Blaming all the bad smells on the dog. Boy, can she clear a room. For such a small mammal, you'd be surprised. She even gets up and leaves. Now that's bad.

Bring on the rest of the weekend!!

My Hope

After a long night with with many prayers and tears, a chapter in my life has come to an end. It's not easy to walk away, but sometimes it's what's best. So that's what i am doing. Walking away.

This morning when i woke up, God spoke to me and said,
"The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is thy faithfulness. "The LORD is my portion," says my soul, "therefore I will hope in him." Lamentations 3:22-24

Or, as it is translated in The Message:
God's loyal love couldn't have run out,
his merciful love couldn't have dried up.
They're created new every morning.
How great your faithfulness!
I'm sticking with God (I say it over and over).
He's all I've got left.

Seriously??

And again...because of student generosity, i can feel the L-B's (pronounced el-bees, i.e. pounds) adding on. I had just finished my sub from Jersey Mike's yesterday when the third grade walks up and presents me with this fiesta for the tongue on a plate. If this keeps us, i'm thinking about taking a second job as Santa for the holiday season. 'Tis the season to be fat (i was gonna say plump, but we all know that's just a nice word for fat, right?)

Teacher Perk

This is just one of the perks of being a teacher: students have birthdays and they bring delicious treats like this one to share with their classmates and teachers.
As you can see, i have already made it halfway through this delicious Peanut-Butter Delight cookie.
My thighs are telling me to start making good use of my gym membership again...

i've been tickled by a yellow bumble bee

when i was a little girl, i loved visiting my dad at work. He works for a ministry called Bethel Colony of Mercy. It's a faith-based drug and alchohol rehab, and might seem like a strange place for a little girl to hang out, but i loved visiting my daddy. He has always taken such good care of my brother and i, and i can't remember a single time that we ever felt unsafe or unwelcome at Bethel. My dad is quite a quirky person! If you don't know him, you'll just have to take my word for it. He has all kinds of unique sayings and quotes, and silly things that he says simply because he thinks they are funny. No one else may get it, but he does and he's definately laughing about it. That's what i love about him (among the other bazillion things that make him wonderful).
Well, he also has a very "different" taste in music, and he can't wait to share what he thinks is musical bliss with everyone else. So, back in the day, there was a song by George Younce, former bass singer for The Cathedrals, that he loved to play over the intercom at work. The men had no choice. They simply had to listen until the song was over. I used to beg him to play it every time i visited, and like most daddys do, he had a hard time saying no to his little girl. I would like to take this moment to apologize to all the Bethel Men i forced to listen unwillingly to this song. It's called the laughing song. You'll see why. (skip past the interview part to the part where he's singing)

haha! and to think that we're all desperately trying to GET gas right now

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/odd_flatulence_charge

So there i was

trying my best to be athletic and kick the soccer ball.
In 5th grade, i wasn't really a big fan of the whole sports scene. In fact, i always got picked last in PE (unless my brother was choosing team members either because he felt sorry for me or because our mom had told him not to "choose your sister last!").
Today, the boys and girls had been segregated, and the girls were playing soccer on the upper field while the boys played on the lower field. For some reason, our teacher hadn't made us change for PE that day, and so all us girls were skipping around in our skirts and dresses looking just like a bunch of Christian school kids (which i was, but that's a blog for another day). I was doing my best to run in my "2 inches below the knee but at least 3 inches above the ankle" jumper. It was denim (and fabulous). My shirt matched the pockets on the jumper, and the straps secured themselves over my shoulders like suspenders. I was wearing white keds and white socks folded neatly in half.
I had been waiting for a chance to prove my athletic prowress to my best friend, who is good at ALL sports. For me, most of the game was spent watching everyone else play and making sure i didn't get dirt on my new, white tennis shoes. I may have been a weakling and uncordinated, but i was also determined. So i determined to prove myself, should the opportunity come my way. Granted, i wasn't going out and looking for any opportunities, but if the ball happened to roll in my direction and stop in front of me, i was going to make the most of it. Boy, did i ever.
The ball rolled my direction and stopped in front of me. Gulp. I pushed my butterflies and my insecurities aside and started running and kicking and kicking and running. Amazingly, no one stole the ball from me. They were probably in shock at the sight of ME with the BALL....or so i thought. Shocked they were, but not at the sight of me with the ball. Simply shocked at the sight of me.
I was so focused on looking like i could play soccer that i took notice of nothing else. Unfortunately for me, i ran right out of my jumper (those supsenders straps were a bad idea) and now i was halfway down the field, my slip and my skinny, white, freckly legs blinding everyone. If ever i have had a moment of sheer terror, this was it. I was mortified. I was already self-conscience enough, being the only "practically albino" girl in school. And now, i had completely exposed myself to the whole world in PE by running around in my slip and tennis shoes kicking a soccer ball like a lunatic. I probably ran the fastest i have ever run in my whole life as i turned and raced back to my crumpled heap of a jumper. I don't remember the details, but somehow i was able to put my clothing back in it's proper place and survive until the end of PE.
You know, I had always hated the rule in our dresscode manual that said "girls must wear slips," but that day, i was so thankful that rule was there. And even more thankful that male/female segregation had been practiced for that PE class.

And to think that i'm now a PE teacher...will wonders never cease???

In case you were wondering

I used to be obsessed with astronomy. I still love it, i just never seem to have the time to pursue it. When i took the SAT's my senior year of highschool, i put with full confidence in the information section that i was going to study astronomy and one day be an astronomer. I wanted to work for NASA and discover new galaxies, track meteors, and name stars. I spent nights freezing in my sleeping bag, watching my snot turn into snot-sicles, not being able to feel my hands, and unable to talk due to the chattering of my teeth, just to track meteor showers. Once, i endured an abscessed tooth because i didn't want to miss the amazing display to come...and i didn't want to get a bad grade on my astronomy homework. I still get chills (no pun intended) every time i see a shooting star. I just love it. As weird as this sounds, i feel like i'm somehow connected to those bits of asteroids and comets mysteriously shooting across the universe, making themselves brilliantly visible for a mere few seconds before dissapearing and being forgotten forever.
All that to say: this is why there is a section in my blog dedicated to a daily photo from NASA. Enjoy at your own risk :)

The Beginning

A few things from the past to start something new:

The thing is

if you really love a person (anyone - friend, family member, that someone) the YOU part is not so important. It's the THEM that matters. That means putting their needs before your own, laying your pride on the line, quieting your own heart so you can truly listen, recognizing and accepting the fact that you can't change them and never should for your own benefit, always speaking the truth in love, and sometimes...letting go.
The risks?
Heartache. It just can't be avoided. But i believe it is better for a heart to ache than be consumed by bitterness.
Losing yourself. There's a difference between loving someone unconditionally and allowing someone to walk all over you. You must learn where to draw the line. It is possible to love unselfishly without being controlled. It's also possible to get so wrapped up in trying to please and be liked that you place yourself at the disposal of another. To be controlled is not to be loved. To allow another person to become an aggresive, selfish being that drains the life from you is not to love. Sometimes, the best thing you can do for a person is to walk away.
The benefits?
Everything. A clear conscience, a clean heart, a free spirit, hope, the opportunity to see lives change, the satisfaction of knowing you've been true to yourself, no regrets, and most likely, a friend for life.
Try it. The people you truly care about, the one's you've been given to walk through life with, the friend that puts up with all your junk, that somone who looks past your imperfections and insecurities to see something beautiful.....Love them....more than you love yourself.
~Sept. 17, 2006


What are Onions and Abercrombie & Fitch, Alex

The answer, of course, is: Things that stink.

I ordered half a salad with my soup for lunch today. I didn't read the full description of the salad. I just got through the part that said apple slices and dried cranberries and knew instantly i wanted to eat it. I carried my lunch tray to an empty booth, arranged my food in front of me the way i like it, propped my feet up on the seat across from me, opened my book, and began to stuff my face and turn pages at the same time. "Mmmmm, delicious apples! Scrumptious dried cranberries! Crisp lettuce popping in my mouth! Zingy cheese crumbles! And what is that disgusting, obnoxious, biting flavor ruining the pleasent, delectible ones?!?!?!???" I look at my salad in horror already having guessed what detestable thing has invaded my previously perfect lunch....ONIONS!
GROSS! SICK! EWWW! RETCH!!! GAG!!! COUGH COUGH!! MAKE A FACE. DRINK WATER! WIPE TONGUE WITH NAPKIN. DRINK MORE WATER! GAG again. and again. and once more for good measure. I gingerly reached across the apples, through the dried cranberries, and very carefully, making sure to use only the tips of my fingers, remove the remaining intruders from my salad.
The damage is done though. My gums sting with the overwhelming, searing flavor the demon vegetable possesses. My breath REAKS (AND i have to go to the dentist in 2 hours), and worst of all, even though i barely grazed the upmost part with the tip of my fingers as i removed them, my fingers still stink. There's no way around it. They just stink, and they will until i get the bleach out once i'm home and detox my hands. Nothing smells worse and lingers longer than an onion....
Except for Abercrombie & Fitch.
~Feb. 18, 2008