Monday, September 21, 2009
The colors - powder blue, white, and silver - were all in our Principals Color-Me-Beautiful color pallet. There's no way she would have been caught dead in a brown, cream, and gold sweatshirt bearing the school's name. Her color season was Winter, and Winters would never wear those colors. Talk about looking faded and washed out. Horror of all horrors!
Anybody go through that ridiculous fashion trend? The good ol color swatch sampler...it was bright yellow and just the right size for a ladies purse. When you opened it up and unfolded it, all the color swatches were displayed, and it looked like a paint or carpet sampler. The company actually had women who were paid to throw bolts of colored fabric over you so that only your face showed, and then depending on whether the color made your eyes "pop" or your skin look "faded" you were told whether or not you should wear that color. Very scientific.
You could be labeled as one of four seasons: Winter, Spring, Autumn, or Summer. Each of those seasons had sub-categories. I believe i was a Soft Autumn. What did this mean? I have no clue, except that under no circumstances whatsoever was i ever to wear Black, White, Silver, or Fuchsia. These were bad colors for me. They would wash me out and make me look like a sick and dying cat. Fabulous. Instead of white, i wore off-white. Instead of black, i wore brown. Gold jewelry only. If i wore red, it had to be orange-red, not purple-red. I can remember shopping with my mom or other ladies from the school and spending 15 minutes with a shirt and a color swatch trying to determine if it was in their accepted range of color. Sheesh!! Who cares if it's a kelly green or a hunter green?! Do you like it? Do you feel good in it? Does it match the pants in your hand? Does it go with your favorite lipstick? Then get it!! Tell Color-Me-Beautiful to get over it!
So of course, as soon as i went off to college, i started wearing lots of black, white and pink things, and only silver jewelry. And i looked pretty dern good in all of it, if i do say so myself. No one forced me to follow the color pallet rule while in middle and high school, and my mom really didn't care at all. But it was highly annoying to go to school in something you really liked only to be told by someone who thought that pantyhose, pumps and patriotic scarves were fashionable, "hmmm, i'm not so sure that's a good color for you."
And now? Now i thank God every day that there are other stores besides JCPenny and Sears where i can freely shop and choose things that Color-Me-Beautiful would have no clue what to do with, haha!
Ok, so that's a slight exaggeration. But, i do think i'll go see if i can find my mom's old book of color swatches...the fireplace needs some starter materials for the winter. :)
Monday, April 27, 2009
I spent many a blissful afternoon on that swing, my brother and i singing songs at the top of our lungs: "On top of old SMOKEYYYYYYYY!!!" But, we had the most fun when my dad would come out with us and push us. He could push that swing so high, we could see over the roof of our house. I remember holding on tightly and straining my neck to look until we finally reached the ultimate height, and i could see the cows in the pasture on the other side of our house.
I think i was 2 the day i fell off the swing.
I was never scared of heights as a kid. In fact, i was the only one in my family who would ride roller coasters at theme parks for quite a while. My mom would find a nice looking family and ask if i could ride with them, while she, my dad, and my brother would stand below the ride and watch me fly by, upside down and loopty-looping. All that to say, at 2, i was not scared to be pushed as high as the roof line of our house while swinging on the tire swing.
So there we were, my brother and i. My dad was pushing away. I'm sure we were laughing, and possibly singing, and straining to see who could look over the roof of the house first. One minute, i was flying through the air as high as i could go on that big, black, rubber tire, and the next minute i continued flying through the air, but without the tire. Just me and the breeze and the long fall to the ground below. I still remember it. I didn't have time to realize what had happened until it was over. Somehow, i lost my grip on the tire's ropes, and i slipped off mid-swing. The amazing part is, instead of hitting the ground, i hit the safety of my dad's arms. He caught me! It all happened so fast, but no one was hurt, and it was more like being tossed into my dad's arms rather than falling off the swing.
I spent many years after that loving and enjoying that tire swing, but every time i got on, i always thought about the time i almost fell to the ground but didn't...
Thursday, April 16, 2009
The good news is, i'm still smart! Over Easter, we played some family games, and i won all of them. Feels good to be a winner. Not that i'm saying one should gloat, but when one has a brother who's genius can be compared with that of Einstein and who's mother is equally brilliant...it's nice to occasionally come out on top :)
and, i'm out.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
They all wanted to know why my stomach isn't big and where i'm keeping the baby until my stomach gets big enough for it. I explained to them that it is very small right now, and i won't have a big stomach until much later in the year. They were still skeptical:
Robby: "How do you know you're having a baby Mrs. Losier???"
Me: "Well Robby, the doctor told me."
Monday, March 30, 2009
Friday, March 6, 2009
"i wasn't sick Miss Loss. i didn't throw up or nothin. my private area hurt. i had poop up to my belly button. i drank this stuff and at first nothing came out, but then i pushed really hard and some stuff came out. then lots of liquid came out. then it was an explosion! i had to poop all day! one piece was this long! (holding up his hands to show me exactly how long it was)"
needless to say, it took a few minutes to get the class settled down and the music lesson started.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Let me get out my gi-tar, straighten my cowboy hat, shine my belt buckle, throw my boots up on a desk, and start the strummin'! We'll sing every song he ever wrote and then end on a good note with the classic, "i've got spurs that jingle jangle jingle! as i go ridin' merrily along! and they say, 'oh, ain't you glad you're single?' and that song ain't so very far from home! Oh Betty Suuuueeeee! (oh betty sue) Oh Betty Suuuueeee! (oh betty sue) somethin' somethin' somethin' somethin' but that's why i married you!"
Should we sing Mary Did You Know now?
Friday, February 20, 2009
-when i was 3, my mom made me stay home with my Nana while my brother celebrated his 5th birthday with all his friends at an awesome clown party.
-on the way home from a trip to illinois, i thought the car was on fire, and as soon as my dad pulled the car to a stop, i lept over my grandmother and jumped out the side door, ready to run down the interstate and as far away from the car as possible.
-i threw up chicken noodle soup all over the braided rug on the way to the bathroom. it was my birthday, and i didn't get to have a sleepover party, but i did get the Quince i wanted from my parents (quince, quince, five times more fun, i love taking care of each and everyone! (how scary is it that i remember the theme song??)).
-my brother's best friend drop-kicked me in the stomach. it hurt.
-i had a friend who, when she thought the house we were staying at was being invaded by burglars, grabbed a grapefruit spoon to defend herself with.
-i won the Miss CFS pageant. my best friend told jokes as her talent. the year before, another friend of mine chose to do flips with her leg behind her head as her talent. i sang.
-i slept on the floor next to my brothers bed all night after i'd dreamed that he had died.
-i had to dance with a girl in PE class because i was too short to have a boy partner.
-in 8th grade, a boy brought me a gift from his trip to Disney World, and my parents made me give it back.
-i won a sewing competition. the award was a free trip to sewing camp. whoop-ti-do. i didn't go.
-i wrote a poem for Steve Wojciechowski (former Duke point guard) and mailed it to him.
-my best friend and i burried friendship oaths under a rock in her side yard.
-my math teacher wore an art smock to class with some victorian style boots.....and orange tights.
-my friend and i danced around my basement in my mother's old negligee nightgowns as Hey Jude and Yesterday played over and over again on my keyboard.
-for my 16th birthday, we had a huge party in our basement, and i danced with my crush to This I Promise You by NSYNC.
-my friend and i wrote the following letter to a boy as a joke, but got in trouble for it: "Deer_______, I hate your stinkin' guts! You make me vomit! You are the scum between my toes!" we took it from a Little Rascals movie and thought it was hilarious, but no one else seemed to. where is your sense of humor people??
-in 6th grade i got into a fight with another girl. she grabbed the chalkboard eraser and started hitting me on the head with it. i grabbed a piece of chalk and tried to write on her. my attempts were futile. she accomplished much with her eraser...i accomplished nothing with my wimpy piece of chalk.
-a different math teacher drew for us, on the board, the bruise that she had acquired on her backside. thanks for that.
-i watched meteor showers in below freezing temperatures while i had an abscessed tooth.
-i got a tan. no wait. that never happened.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
Sometimes he even goes so far as to send valentine gifts to my roommates too so they don't feel left out.
Pictured is this years valentine :)
Thanks Dad! I love you!
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Don't get me wrong. I love music. I love to sing. But, sometimes you are forced to do things that you look back on and wonder what in the world some people were thinking.
For example, we used to get paraded around at Christmas time in these Old English Caroler costumes that were absolutely ridiculous looking. The girls had red bonnets that velcroed under the chin with big plaid bows on the side. The boys had black top hats. Everyone wore black pants or a black skirt and these red capes that wrapped around our necks and practically choked us. We would walk around the mall or outside downtown Lenoir and occasionally in a nursing home dressed in these outfits and singing songs with words that i still have no clue as to what some of them mean. Like this one: On December twenty-five sing Fum, Fum, Fum. Fum? Why are we singing fum? Is that even a word? How do i know that it's not Old English for something i shouldn't be saying; especially not to a group of sweet, ederly people? I don't want to sing fum. I feel like a weirdo singing fum. Not to mention the velcro on my felt hat is itching my ching like crazy.
How about this one: Lo, how a rose e'er blooming. E'er. E'er? That can't be correct grammar. Exactly what two words make up that contraction anyway? Please enlighten me. I have no clue. And what's with this Lo business?? Was Shakespeare writing Christmas carols? Oh yes, in case the fabulous Caroler costumes didn't tip you off, these were both songs we sang at Christmas time. Whatever happened to Joy to the World? Or Away in a Manger? Those are normal songs with simple English that we all understand and recognize. Sigh.
Then there was this whole idea that EVERYWHERE we went we had to sing for the people. Our Principal just knew that complete strangers could not die a happy death unless we had sung Mary Did You Know for them in four part harmony, loom-ing our little hearts out. Every historic church we set foot in during field trips, "wait to you hear them sing," she would say. Our tour guides would stand politely by and listen as the lame leaped, the deaf heard, the blind saw, and the dumb spoke for the 5 millionth time that day, "Ohhhhhh, Mary did you know?" Of course, it helped that we had (insert sarcasm here) the most awesome soloist this side of the Mason Dixon line.....
.....anyway, if it wasn't Mary Did You Know, it was this African song we had learned about marching in the light of God:
(note: i have no clue how to spell in tribal)
Siyah Hamba Kukanaynee Kween Kos
Siyah Hamba Kukanaynee Kween Kos
Nee Kween Kos
Siyah Hamba Kukanaynee Kween Kos!
Tell me you wouldn't be thrilled to be reading all about how Benjamin Franklin sat in the same pew his whole life only to be interrupted by a bunch of awkard looking, braces wearing, Christian Tours bag toting highschoolers in skirts with hemlines below the knees or sideburns no lower than the ear lobe, singing an African worship song at the top of their lungs...in four part harmony. It would have been your lucky day! Especially if we gave you an encore with the For Him classic: Future Generations. "Whoa-Oh-Whoa! Whoa-Oh-Whoa!"
We had skills.
Ever heard of a cumberbun? I still have nightmares about those things. Ughh! Just a word of advice here to anyone who'd like to take it: Never force your child, or students, to wear cumberbuns. They are not attractive, they do not look good, and they ARE a fashion no-no. A cumberbun is pretty much a thick, satin belt with pleats in it. They used to be really popular for MEN to wear with tuxedos. Lucky for the girls at my school, we got to wear bright red ones with white pilgrim blouses and long black skirts. And panty hose. Let me tell you, this redheaded, freckled faced, paleskin looked amazing in a bright white shirt and obnoxiously red belt that reached halfway up her stomach. None of this waiting around stuff, we were a fashion disaster that happened.
Now where is that VHS....i have a sudden urge to see the musical phenomenon that was Mary Did You Know (yes, i have copies...want one? :))
Loom, loom, loom, loom, looooooom
Monday, February 9, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
i know you've been checking my blog every day for the next chapter in this story.
let me just say that this next part made the Mexico Trip one of the best memories i have from highschool (not counting what happened afterwards).
The sun had just risen on the morning of the day we were allowed to spend "absorbing Mexican culture" with our host families, and my middle name may as well have been sponge. I was ready for this. We were going to highschool with the daughter of our host family for her homecoming. I could feel the excitement building as we rode down the streets of Mexico on our way to school, the radio blasting a popular Mariachi tune of the time. My heart was pounding right along with the distinctive tuba that was keeping rhythm with the bass line. I remember being awed at the size of the school when we pulled up to it. It was huge. There were students everywhere. It was chaos...definately not what we small, hicktown girls were used to. I loved it instantly. We got out of the car, and Gabi and her cousin started introducing us to their friends. Then it happened. We were surrounded by boys. Boys everywhere. Wanting a picture with us: "foto? foto?" Seriously? Me? You want a picture with me??? WHY? They must not have had many American girls visit that school. Or maybe they were just in awe of how freakishly white my skin was...hah! Either way, it was fun. Cameras were flashing everywhere, and we all had stupid grins plastered across our faces. When the photoshoot finally came to an end, someone handed us pictures of the girl they wanted to win homecoming queen, and we pinned them on our shirts. Then we were lost in a sea of bodies as everyone starting crowding around to watch the candidates make their entrances. It was insane...there were moments when i was convinced we were going to be trampled and killed amidst the chaos. Talk about an adrenaline rush. I don't think they have to adhere to the same fire codes in Mexico that we have to here. After everyone was finally in place, the party began, and what a party it was. We were outside in a courtyard, but there was a screen over the entire area to keep the sun from making it too hot. There was a live band, and there was dancing. Lots and lots of dancing. The girls danced with a long stem rose in their mouths. Guys continued to come up to us and ask us for pictures, and finally, i met one that spoke English. We started talking and hit it off pretty well. His name was Jesus (pronounced hay-sooz), but he didn't go by that name. He went by Chui(like Chewy from Star Wars), because that's so much better than the alternative. Haha! I go to Mexico and meet Jesus but he prefers to be called Chewy. Tell me that isn't funny. He asked me if i wanted to dance, and i got really nervous for a second. The only dancing i'd ever done was ballroom because that's all we were allowed to do at my school. Everything else was totally and completely "inappropriate." I had no clue how to salsa, or rhumba, or cha cha, or do anything remotely similiar to what these highschoolers were doing. But, i'm a quick learner, so i threw caution to the wind and said to myself, "you're never gonna have this opportunity again. Go for it!" I took his hand, and he led me to the dance floor. I'm sure i looked like a total and complete dork for the first few minutes. I had no clue how to dance like him, but he was patient, and i finally caught on. Then it was fun...i didn't want to stop. After chatting it up on the dance floor some more, i learned that he was going to college in Arizona. No wonder his English was so good. I noticed some of my friends had been scooped up by several lucky guys, and they too were learning a totally new world of dance. We were all having a blast. This was the highschool experience we would never have, and we wanted to make it last as long as we could possibly drag it out for in that one, glorious day. We were free to just be without having to worry about someone telling us our shoes were out of dresscode, or that our earrings were too long, or that we had to go home and change because our clothes were inappropriate (meaning we actually looked normal), or that we were receiving double detention for a "bad attitude" (meaning we had looked at someone the wrong way).
It ended too soon. You know what they say about having fun...and it's so true...dissapointingly true. Why can't the good times take forever? We had spent a long day with our host family though; longer than anyone else had. I remember feeling kinda smug about the day i had had when we met back up with everyone else that night. The four of us knew no one could possibly top our day of "absorbing Mexican culutre," and we were right. People were jealous...they wouldn't admit it, but they were. You can just tell when someone is mad at you for having more fun than they did. The chaperones even got mad at us. They scolded us for staying out so late, but what did they expect us to do? Just leave Gabi and her cousin, and find our own ride home with some random strangers in Mexico? In a normal world, everything would have been just fine, but our world was not normal. In our world, if anything good happened to anyone who wasn't one of the "chosen few," it always ended badly. Unfortunately, none of the chosen had been with us that day, so there was a little tension in the air. It was like a time bomb waiting to explode. And it did. At dinner.
We were sitting around the dinner table, and one of the "chaperones" was telling a story and pretty much bragging about himself and how great he was. He was abusing his authority by making up scenarios about himself and then asking us what we would do in the situation, knowing that none of us had the guts to tell him the truth. None of us, that is, except for Amanda. My dear bff always had a hard time putting up with this certain person's obnoxious behaviour, and that night was no different. After he had just finished making a smart comment about what he would say to a student, and they had laughed uncomfortably at his ill attempt at self-righteous humor, Amanda commented, "i'd tell you to shove it."
We all kind of laughed...awkwardly. It was hilarious, but we didn't want to get in trouble. We shouldn't have been worried. He had Amanda in his sights now.
The bomb was about to go off.
Things were pretty calm for the rest of dinner. Then Amanda got called into the back bedroom with the Principal, her assistant, and the "chaperone" who just happened to be the Principal's son.
She was in there for quite some time and when she came out, i knew she was furious. I've known her since we were 5, and i knew this was not going to be good. Somehow we got a ride back to our host family's house, and then the floodgates opened. It wasn't fair. It never was. We knew it wouldn't be, but i think we all kind of hoped that the next time, things would be handled differently. We should have known better than to go against a sure thing. It's like running into a brick wall: you only hurt yourself...the wall never knows you were there. She got out her calling card and called her parents. The tears were flowing, but i think they were angry tears more than anything. How it was right for that man to sit there and say whatever he wanted and not be confronted about it (which he did all the time), and then when one brave student stands up to him she gets punished for having an attitude problem and being in "the wrong place with the Lord" (whatever that means), is beyond me. Was the outcome surprising? No. Was it still as upsetting? Yes.
I remember sitting across the room from her as she sat in silence putting one peanut butter ball after another into her mouth and wondering if there would be any left for me. Haha! She was so upset, she ate the whole bag. And i got to help :)
We were used to things going the way they did. Didn't make it right, but we were resilient and strong-hearted. That one incident would not spoil the day, or the rest of the trip, for us.
I love this song! I was so pysched when i found it on youtube today!!! It gets good about 30 seconds in, so don't give up on it.
Totally takes me back to my college days. Red, 2 door, honda civic, the "A Girls", and crazy dance moves as we drove up and down highway 74 blasting this song as loud as it would go.
Good Times :)
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
i just want to encourage you not to be afraid to ask God for what you want. i'm not talking about naming it and claiming it. i'm talking about the desires of your heart, and the fact that in the Bible it clearly says that the Lord will give you the desires of your heart. you just have to draw close to Him. not because He's giving us a condition, testing our motives, or making a deal with us, BUT because we can't really know the true desires of our heart unless we ARE close to Him. He always wants to bless us, but sometimes we miss the blessing because it's not what we think it should be. i have been learning so much lately about the love of God, and finally believe that He does love me just the way i am. i wasted a lot of time trying to figure out who God wanted me to be, instead of realizing that He just wants me the way i am. He made me like this, and He loves me like this. the more i believe that, the closer i feel to Him, and the more aware i am of the desires He's given me. and if He gave me these desires, then how can i not ask Him for them? And why would He not lovingly and willingly give them to me? it's so simple. just like the gospel (which i also tried to complicate, but that's another story). God doesn't try to trick us and make things hard on us. If it's seems difficult, it's because we make it that way; or at least that's been my experience.
i recently asked God for something that i finally got tired of trying to figure out on my own. and i am one stubborn girl...just ask my parents. and you know what happened? He gave it to me. almost immediately. not because i did anything to deserve it. the truth is, i stopped trying to do the right things to get what i wanted and just said "God, have your way. Do what you want. I trust you." not only did He bless me, but He went out of His way (if that's possible for God, hah!) to make sure i knew it was from Him. and believe me, i know...there's no way i could have done this on my own. He gave me more than i ever could have dreamed of asking for. AND he showed me what i really wanted...what i had no clue i wanted until He gave it to me. God's way is so much better. He loves us like crazy, and is just waiting for opportunities to blow us out of the water with His love. He also gave me peace. a very wise woman (thank you Sarah Turner!) once told me that the best way to follow God's plan for your life is to follow the peace in your heart. amazing advice and so true. it's so good to walk in peace and love...which brings about great happiness. maybe the hippies really were on to something....kidding!
Friday, January 16, 2009
I was psyched. A foreign country. I had been to Spain in the 8th grade, but i just had a feeling that Mexico was going to be amazing.
My BFF, Amanda Renee (it's french!) Parsons, and I were all set to room together, and she had a whole bag of Reece's Peanut Butter Balls in her ginormously large suitcase. What could be better than that? All the students had been divided up into groups and were staying with different members of Luis' family. His dad was an important government official (anybody remember exactly what his title was?) in their hometown, Hermosilla, and their family was pretty wealthy and had lots of space to host all of us.
Amanda and i were sent to stay with one of Luis' aunts and her niece. We were called over to our respective mode of transportation, "Ah-Mahn-dah and Melodeee!" We were on our way to some strangers house in Mexico with no adult supervision. Sweet! And our good friends "Joo-lie and Me-lee-sa" were staying next door. What luck!
Talk about a culture shock. We were two very well behaved Christian school girls who never did anything wrong (except for the occasional conference-leading-to-detention due to our bad attitudes towards the principal's grandson when he subbed as our Spanish teacher), and we were not prepared for what happened next. When we arrived at our home for the week, we walked through the courtyard and found a party waiting for us on the other side.
"You girls want some Tequila?"
I was speechless. I had never been offered an alcoholic beverage in my life, and i definitely wasn't expecting it then. Amanda answered for us,
"No thanks. We just had some milk." Milk? Was that the best she could come up with? I think she really did have some milk earlier now that i think about it, but i know i didn't. I hated milk. Anyway, after they laughed at us, they introduced themselves, and then we went inside to get situated.
I remember being scared to death that i might accidentally swallow one drop of water while brushing my teeth. I was told NOT TO DRINK THE WATER NO MATTER WHAT. YOU WILL GET SICK. AND DIE. A HORRIBLE DEATH. AFTER LOTS OF SUFFERING. But seriously, that's how i felt after the whole "don't drink the contaminated water" talk. I'm surprised i wasn't dehydrated due to all the spitting i did in Mexico while brushing my teeth. There was lots of spitting. I didn't even want one trace of contamination mixed in with my saliva. And the shower. That was tricky to. I made sure to never put my face in the water. No drops going anywhere near the mouth. I held my breath a lot just to be sure no water went in through my nose.
We spent a lot of time in the family room sitting around on the couches and the floor just goofing off. Luis' cousin, Gabi, was so much fun. So was her mom (can't remember her name??). One night, and i'm going to just throw this out there that sometimes high school girls can be unnecessarily silly (hard to believe, i know), we gathered around and translated a very serious song that is near and dear to my heart. It's called, Tirar un moco. If you speak Spanish, you'll know that it means, To Flick a Bugar. Deep, isn't it? I can't believe i'm doing this, but i am now going to share the lyrics with you. If you don't want to be my friend after reading this, then i'll pray for you to receive a sense of humor. Just Kidding :)
I picked a bugar from my nose and flicked it on the floor
I tied it up in knots and then went running out the door
Tirar un Moco!
Tirar un Moco!
You didn't know i had it in me, did you? I actually can't take full credit for the song. I didn't write most of it, but i still remember it to this day. I won't expose the author unless they would like to expose themselves.
Our good friends Michael and Kirt liked to make up songs too. The one i remember from that trip was the classic, Spear Fishing.
Good music like that is really hard to come by. I feel fortunate to have been a part of the Moco and Spear Fishing movement.
One day we were traveling somewhere in a big white van, the place i can no longer remember, but the drive i will never forget. Amanda, Michael, Kirt, and I all sat in the very back seat of the van. We spent that whole drive quoting segments from the John Boy and Billy Show. I didn't listen to the show, but Michael and Kirt knew every episode, and it was hilarious listening to them quote it. The line that sticks out the most in my memory is Michael in a very country voice, "Welcome to Revival at the Sword of Joshua, Pentecostal, Full Gospel, Church of God on Highway Eight on the frontage road!" (i may not have gotten that all right, but it's close!)
I also remember the principal eyeing my brand new adidas tennis shoes and mentioning that they were out of dresscode. I didn't realize i was supposed to wear my pilgrim shoes around the streets and hills of Mexico.
Then came the day we got to spend with our respective host families doing what they do. We lucked up and went to homecoming with Gabi at her high school.
We had no clue what was coming....
Well, this morning, kindergarten was playing freeze dance and having a grand 'ol time at it when i saw the cutest thing ever. One of the little boys, Maverick, went over to one of the little girls, Ava, and started dancing with her like grown-ups do with the whole his-arm-around-her-back and her-arm-on-his-shoulder deal. Every now and then he would spin her. It was precious. And i did not teach them that...they did it all on their own. So i'm watching and smiling and thinking about how adorable the whole situation is, and that this moment can't possibly be any cuter when i hear one of the other little boys, Donovan, make this comment,
"I wish i had a girl like that."
How stinkin' adorable is that??? The cute factor just went through the roof, folks.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
I've dated my fair share, grew up with a brother and a father, and have lots of guy friends, BUT....sometimes the things you guys do....i just don't get.
For example, i watched 4 boys run around and hit each other mercilessly with pool noodles for an hour straight yesterday. Really? You can occupy yourselves for an hour by just smacking each other in the head with a noodle? Cause hey, it looks like loads of fun to me. If i could be doing anything right now it would be rolling around in the dirt while my comrade beats me with a long, aqua-colored, foam stick. It's right up there with cleaning the bathroom...or watching snails race. Those are all things that just scream FUN.
And the dirt that you're bathing in while receiving your beating...gross. Those boys are probably still picking wood chips out of their scalps and socks. If i was your mother, i would not be happy. You'd be darning your own socks.
Then there's the whole, "it doesn't hurt" aspect. I'm all like, "Guys, stop it before someone gets seriously hurt!" And there all like, "But Miss Loss! We like it! We promise! And we won't tackle each other!"
Right. You won't tackle each other. You just end up on the ground because you have really bad coordination....and because it's so soft and comfy down there. Who wouldn't want to lay on the cold ground gazing up at the puffy clouds while your face receives a pounding as the dirt specks fly in your eyes: BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM BAM! BAM! And you're all like, "that tickles!"
Whatever floats your boat...
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Students smiling cheerfully and singing Deep and Wide while making coordinating hand motions
Sammy: There's a bug on the floor!
Me: It's ok Sammy, it's dead.
Continue singing song
Sammy: IT'S MOVING!!!
The one legged grasshopper slowly drags itself across the floor
Me: Calm down! It's not going to hurt
anyone! It's just a grasshopper!!
The one legged grasshopper is immediately consumed by the Kleenex in my hand. Death has mercifully arrived for one more insect.
Me: Everyone quietly line up at the door....class is over now.
Tito: (on the way out the door to Sammy) I bet there was an alien inside it.
Aliens...i knew it.
Monday, January 12, 2009
I was a happy go lucky 3 year old...and the good kid :). My brother was 5. We didn't change roles of bad kid/good kid until i hit my teens, but that's a blog for another day.
My father, a pastor, preached almost every other Sunday at the little chapel on the hill that served as the church building for the ministry he has worked at for the past 25 years. It is a quaint, old-fashioned building with squeaky floors covered in scarlet red carpet and lumpy pews of the same color. It even has a sort of bell tower with a Notre Dame type bell on a rope that you pull to ring. There was an organ on the left, a piano on the right, and a solid wooden pulpit in the middle with a crack running down it from an incident during a deliverance session (also a blog for another day). Outside the chapel, there was a long, concrete sidewalk that curved all the way to the hard, concrete steps. Concrete...pretty hard stuff.
My brother, Jonathan, had a Big Wheel. If you're a child of the 80's, then you'll know that a Big Wheel is a plastic bike with three wheels, a HUGE one in the front, that rides low to the ground. I was a fan of my big brother back then...wanted to be just like him and follow him around and annoy him...all that good stuff little siblings do. So, i watched him place his Big Wheel at the top of the winding sidewalk and ride it all the way down towards the chapel till the huge front wheel bounced harmlessly off the bottom step of the chapel stairs. Woohoo! looked like fun to me. Being the fearless 3 year-old that i was, i promptly climbed aboard my tricycle.
Take a moment to consider the tricycle with me: this bike also has three wheels, but instead of it's occupant riding close to the ground, the cold, red, metal seat is raised high in the air just slightly below the red, metal handlebars.
Ok. So i'm perched on my tricycle and i start pumping the peddles as fast as my little feet will make them go. Down the curving sidewalk i race, gaining momentum with each second. Wheeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! The glee didn't last very long. Suddenly, i was heaved from my seat and flying precariously through the air, over the handlebars and landing directly on the soft flesh of my chin. AUGGHHHHH!!!! Actually, it was probably more like, WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!! MOMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!! You see, i hadn't done the physics or calculus or algebra or geometry or whatever math i should have done at the ripe old age of 3 to realize that me coming to a sudden stop from that speed when sitting so high up in the air probably wasn't a good idea. There were two hits: The tricycle hit the steps, and then my chin hit the steps.
I'm not sure exactly of the events that followed but there was a mixture of blood and tears, and somehow my mom made it to my side. I remember laying on my mom's lap in the car, rushing to the hospital. I remember seeing the big red stain on the white handkerchief that had been stopping the blood flow from my chin. I don't remember this, but my tells me that when she removed the handkerchief to re-situate it or check out the injury (not sure what she was doing), i quickly asked her to put it back because i was afraid my chin would fall off. I remember laying on the hospital bed and being held down while they placed a white cloth over my face with a hole that opened at my chin. I guess they figured it would have been less traumatizing for me to not see what was going on by forcing me to lay on that bed and have my face completely covered. I say the fact that i still remember being under that cloth and being terrified means they were wrong about not traumatizing me. BUT, the stitches made it in, and i lived to tell the story. :)
Besides those few vivid memories, i have one constant reminder of that day: a small, crescent-shaped scar right under my chin...if you look closely you'll see it.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Zechariah: Miss Loss, who's Mike?
Me: He is my boyfriend Zechariah.
Tito: YOU FINALLY HAVE A BOYFRIEND?!?!?!??!!
Entire Kindergarten Class: YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Donovan: Wait a minute. You married Mrs. Whitt's husband??
Me: No Donovan, this is a different Mike.
Whit: Is it Mrs. Whitt's dad?
Me: No. He is not related to Mrs. Whitt in any way at all. He lives 11 hours away in Illinois.
Tito: So what kind of boyfriend is he?
Me: The good kind :)
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
I like to know what's going on
I read the end of a book first
I ask questions during movies
Strange that i asked God to surprise me?
He knows us better than we know ourselves
I just knew i needed His help
It was a simple, sincere prayer
He heard me asking
He waited until the right time
He surprised me!
He knew what i needed
heard what i wanted
saw what i couldn't
and gave me what I did not know to ask for
I like surprises
to be continued