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Showing posts from February, 2013

Ballerinas, Bravery and British Accents

When my youngest daughter,  Ellie, was in preschool she took ballet downtown in the same building that the ballerinas that put on The Nutcracker and Dracula and Swan Lake rehearsed.

We could watch them through the glass door while we waited for our class to start.

It was beautiful to see them

with their pointed toes 
and straight backs 
and strong legs.

Ellie's class was everything you'd want for a little girl. A huge room with high ceilings and big windows with lots of natural light.

Miss Kathy was the teacher who had the most calming voice and disposition of anyone I'd ever met.

She made me want to dance ballet.
And I'm more of the kick boxing type.
There was a live piano player

named Miss Somethingorother 
that the girls had to say "hello" to  and "thank you" to  in unison  each class. 

They got to play with the props that the ballet company had at its disposal.

No buying expensive recital costumes. No garish make-up. Just ballet. Thank you very much…

Red and Purple

Last night my husband and I had a surprising few hours to ourselves.

Our daughters took a last minute babysitting job next door.

So we went to a second hand furniture store.

(Duh, like my favorite thing to do EVER and we are looking for a new piece of furniture  to act as a media console so my husband can get a bigger TV  and we can get rid of our ENORMOUS armoire that currently houses our TV.  Any great DIY ideas?)

After thrifting we went to one of our favorite restaurants, Chocolate Cafe.

We are on the menu, we go so much.
And we really like the owners.
We noticed the parking lot was extra full when we pulled in.

Then we noticed ALL the red hats of the large group of ladies sitting by the window.

The Red Hat Society.
We sat in the back of the restaurant so we could talk

and because that was the only available seating.
When Monte went back up to the register to order dessert

(Duh, it is called Chocolate Cafe--dessert is necessary at this place.  Our fave is an enormous chocolate chip cookie,…

Old People and Basketball

McDaniel's basketball coach organized a parent vs. daughter basketball game right after their season ending awards banquet.

I am never one to back down from a competition.
I forced Monte to play.
Basketball is not his thing. 
In fact, the joke in our family 
(being from Indiana where basketball is EVERYTHING) 

is that if my grandfather, PaPa, had seen Monte's layup before we got married
he never would've given his blessing. (PaPa LOVED Monte! But he loved basketball too.)
Monte got a su-weet break-away layup in the game and I couldn't help myself but whisper to him
"PaPa would've been so proud!"

I know that I don't push myself in my workouts like I am in training for a marathon or a bodybuilding competition or anything
but I thought I was semi  in shape kinda sort of.
Big. Fat. Lie.
I was sucking wind quickly
and pretty sure everyone could hear my heart thumping in my chest.
At the water fountain in-between quarters,
I realized all the other parents
were in…

Princesses Play Basketball

My oldest daughter, McDaniel, just finished her career as a middle school basketball player.

Not finished her career as a basketball player.
Just her career as a middle school one.
We attended her winter sports awards banquet this week.

Her coach, you know,

The one McDaniel and friends surprised by decorating her jeep. The one McDaniel also has a gym teacher. The one that is getting married. 
got to speak to the girls on the team and all of us parents.

She spoke about their dedication,

their positive attitudes,

their bond to each other and her.
Then, through tears, this
precious,  young,  beautiful,  VERY FEMININE 
female coach spoke of being a middle school girl

more importantly a middle school girl who chooses to be a jock.
You know, it hit me for the first time.

I never really thought about that being hard for any of the girls.
They wore it so well.

Some of them at almost a foot taller than their male peers.
But when I saw their faces as the coach spoke, I realized

 it washard.
And that coach kne…



I got this really cool comment on my last post, Care Taking, that I was receiving an award.

Lisa from Notes From the Shallow End bestowed this very unexpected honor on me. Check out her blog:  this girl is funny!

The award came with 3 instructions:

1. Copy and paste the image of this award  (that's me, two in from the right, pointing at something)
 2. Answer some questions.
3. Pass the award on to someone I deem worthy.
Wow again!

Here are the questions I am supposed to answer:

Favorite time of year? I love autumn, wait, no one actually says that outside of a poem, FALL. I like Fall. The leaves changing color, the deep blue color of the sky on football Saturdays and having to put on a sweater after a long hot summer.

Favorite festive movie? I love It's a Wonderful Life and Elf and A Christmas Story. Family Man too, although it is not really a Christmas movie. Makes me more grateful.

What is your passion? Writing. Has been since the 3rd or 4th grade. I loved story starters in sch…

Care Taking

I am not so much of a care taker.

I mean, in your time of need,

I will make you a meal

run your errands
take you somewhere
but not sure I can do anything more medical than that.

If you could hear it, I just whispered the word medical. Lest it mean anything slightly more than a toe-step over  my sense of personal space and boundaries.
I appreciate the fact that I have only had brief encounters 
with care taking.
I thank God that He has not seen fit 
to equip me in that area--yet.
I am confident He will do so if that changes.

Heaven only knows just how much I need it. And Carisa.

I mentioned some time ago that my friend, Carisa, had a bit of plastic surgery.
2 bits, actually.
Sorry. That was inappropriate. 
It was a reduction surgery.
I was slated for care taking.
After my hyena-like giggle fest during the pre-operation doctor's appointment, my friend elected her daughter as the more "hands on" care taker.
It was a smart choice.
I panic when I get stuck in the underlinings
of a ga…

When We Just Don't Get It

The one thing that I fight everyday

now that I am an "iPhoner" (Regardless if this isn't a thing people say, I am making it a thing)
is the auto correct feature when I am texting.

Yes, I do realize that I can turn it off.
But I have to admit, that it is more handy than not
especially when my fingers turn into thumbs  and I hit every key but the right one.
But when the auto correct tries to wrongly predict what you are going to say after one typed letter or two, 
I want to scream, 
"Let me talk!"
I was trying to text my friend Carisa a password so we could play Ruzzle (nope, haven't quit that yet)
when auto correct tried to thwart the whole thing.
Maybe that was God's provision.
It kept making a one word password into a completely unrelated two word "Jar Monte".
I kept thinking I was over-riding it 
with sheer will and extra finger pressure on the the letter keys
but I'd look up at the sent texting bubble and once again see
"Jar Monte".