"Middle age...

Is when your age starts to show around your middle." -Bob Hope

I've never been much of a fighter or arguer. I mean, I remember fighting with Ben, but that mostly included hitting him until Mom caught us. (I found out recently that Mom and Dad used to wish, and possibly encourage, Ben to hit me back, the theory being that if he hit me back, it would hurt, and I'd never hit him again. I don't remember if I outgrew it or if he hit me, all I know is we stopped.)

In high school and at YWAM, I didn't argue much... I have an opinion and it is generally fully formed in my brain (though not always... Which is a problem, because if I have to think about it, then that means that people have already moved on to another point before I have my ideas formed and out), but I don't like it at all. I don't like telling someone they're wrong, especially if they're my friend. And I don't like when they tell me I'm wrong.

And, I hate when people talk over me. Sometimes, people are so excited about their opinion that they just talk over everyone else in an effort to get theirs out.

Apparently, I live with some arguers. We got into a discussion tonight about when people are most attractive.

The point of this is not the argument. I was greatly amused by watching them all argue with each other, and actually enjoyed when I was able to state my opinion. (It only lasted about 30 seconds. But it was more than normal.)

I guess I've come to the conclusion that God gave us creative minds and thus the ability to debate and discuss. I have formed views on abortion, adoption, homosexuality, sex outside of marriage, and interacting with other religions; but to discuss said views with someone else brings in their own spin on it, which may or may not alter my views.

I think to become a good fighter is not to be able to argue your point to death, but to be able to argue your point in a way that gets it across to other people, without anyone being offended or feeling like their views aren't being heard.

Winning someone over to your side definitely helps, though.

When troubles call, and your back's against the wall...

There's a lot to be learned, that wall could fall.
Once there was a silly old ram
Thought he'd punch a whole in a dam
No one could tell that ram, scram
He kept buttin' that dam
Because he had hi-igh hopes, way up in the sky-y hopes
He had apple pi-ie, in the sky-y hopes... -High Hopes by Frank Sinantra (???)

First- I had no idea that song was by Frank Sinatra. Strange...

Second, have you ever been around someone who is holding on to false hopes, even though they know it's irrational?

Sometimes it's hilarious... We're forecasted to get 1 to 3 inches of snow tonight. When Kans and I started taking our walk tonight, the snow had already started to stick to the grass and the road a little bit. When we got home, I looked at the radar- we are covered in this big blue blotch for the next 6 hours. And past that, because there's still blue above us when the 6 hours ends.

And yet, Kans is convinced that she is going to go to school tomorrow. She's headed to bed at her normal time in hopes that she'll have to get up, drink coffee, and go to school at a normal time tomorrow.

There's 1/2 an inch of snow already, and it's only been snowing a couple hours.

Sometimes, though, people's delusions suck. Like the fact that I still hope that magic money is going to appear for college, even as I budget and save money from every paycheck for it.

The Itsy Bitsy Spider also had delusions of grandeur (or of just making it up the water spout).

If Kans does go to school tomorrow, I'm going to feel badly for saying all this... However, when I wake up tomorrow morning and she is sitting in our living room drinking coffee and being cranky at some art project, I'm going to say "I told you so."

(Kans, that last paragraph may have been written expressly for you.)

"Either God isn't personal and I've wasted my time...

Or He is personal and He hates me." "There's a third option- God loves you, but shitty things still happen." -Angry Conversations with God by Susan E. Isaacs

I've been in the habit recently of saying that I'm engaged to Jesus. I know I'm not supposed to be in a relationship right now because a.) the opportunity hasn't presented itself and b.) Jesus would tell me if I was supposed to be with someone. Especially who.

But if I was engaged to Jesus, He would have my whole heart. And the thing is, He doesn't.

It's like I've given Jesus all of my heart except this one tiny little black dot that is the no-Jesus zone. That is the dark, hidden corner where I like to hide and cry and pretend no one else exists.

Every so often, I let Jesus in for a little bit- but then I realize He's a horrible tenant. He tries to come in and fix the place up, but I like it a grungy nasty shithole- if it's cleaned up and repainted, I'll have to charge more for rent and pay attention to upkeep, and I'm not that dedicated. So I kick him to the curb (again) and pretend not to feel guilty as he walks down the sidewalk, dejected and kicking a soda can. And I vow to never let Him in again, because it's too much trouble and heartache, and it's longer and longer between when He comes looking for a room again.


I can't really be engaged to Jesus until I let Him have my whole heart- no little tiny dark bits hidden. And it's not worth it pretending that He does have it...

Also, Jesus is not a horrible tenant- I'm just a horrible landlord.

Sleep...

is a symptom of coffee deprivation. -Unknown

When I moved into the House O' Bricks, I was a bit nervous about the food thing... I have issues with eating consistently as it is, but I knew the eating habits of hannaHRose, and I was concerned. I try to eat kind of healthfully, and I try to eat things that I make myself- not too much out of a box. (HR, on the other hand, is content with boxes upon boxes of mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese.)

The day I arrived at the house, however, I noticed that there were several things in the fridge that were the same or similar to what I eat. After a few weeks of confusion, I realized that Kans and I eat the same food. Kind of.

We both eat things like hummus, and onions and green peppers go in everything. However, our main food groups are both the same... I made a Natalie Dee-style food pyramid to show our eating habits:

The main group is grains, like bread and potatoes. Then the middle one is cheese, and the top one is donuts. The center of our diets, however, is the daily cup (or, in Kans' case, cups) of coffee.

So, I have a buddy in my eating habits. It works out well for me.

Further explaination:

Bread, or some grain, is the basis of all things good. Potatoes are awesome baked or mashed. Tortillas are amazing things too. And, above all, bread is favorite. Of all kinds. Banana, white, wheat, homemade, store bought, etc.

The middle group, cheese, is all important. It provides calcium, which helps me to not break my bones when Kans decides to have the route of our walk follow the icy steps on campus and I almost fall. It also gets put in EVERYTHING- quesadillas, on baked potatoes, stirred in mashed ones, on top of soup, or just plain eaten.

Donuts are the smallest one because, while a staple, they only come around every couple of months. And, when I do get them, they don't go away fast enough. Last Saturday, Kans and I each bought a 6-pack... Which was a bad idea. By the time we had each eaten half, we were tired of them. It was a good fix for the next few months, though. (Also, these are technically a grain... So maybe they shouldn't have their own category? I'm choosing to not get technical about such things.)

While on the whole coffee only makes up a small percentage of my total intake, it is possibly the most important part of my overall diet. I drink a cup of coffee any time I have to wake up to an alarm- otherwise, the world ceases to function as necessary. Well, I cease to function as required to exist in the world (strange how people don't cater to me when I'm low on sleep...).

Moral of the story: cheese, bread, donuts, and coffee are good. Ucky vegetables and meat, bad.

Nothing encourages creativity...

Like the chance to fall flat on one's face. -James D. Finley

 I've discovered what my problem is.


I do a project, and it turns out AWESOME... And then I get ambitious, and I do things that are too hard without any transition, and then I want to shoot my life in its face.


Being snowed in leaves lots of time for crafting. And we've had plenty of it, thanks to about 6 inches of snow and a layer of ice underneath of it- also, us not possessing a shovel. (We should work on that before the next storm, eh?)


This weekend, I was on a bit of a recycled kick, so I made a wallet out of an old milk carton. Which was actually super awesome. I attached a bit of ribbon and felt very clever and creative.

The lid twists off in order to open it.

Then Monday was sewing day, part one at the House O' Bricks. I finished my t-shirt quilt (there will be no pictures of this, since it's kind of the ugliest thing ever.... But awesome anyway.). Then, Monday night, I burned a notebook that had some stuff I have been dealing with in it, and it needed to go away.


Tuesday morning, I woke up and thought "I have a brilliant idea." I went down to the fire and pulled the spiral from the notebook out of the ashes, then twisted it into my new purity ring- which is pretty bangin', if you ask me.


This is where my head started to get big. And so I thought, ohhh, I'm going to make this super awesome flower thing out of newspaper. (Thanks, Kans, for showing me the recycled origami book. I might blame this one on you in the future.) It was a pain in my butt, and I got super annoyed, but I made it the whole way through... And then the darn thing didn't even look like a flower, it just looked like a pinwheel.


I was pissed. Also, Kans' project wasn't working correctly, so she was annoyed too... I decided to quit crafting for the day and just laugh at Kans.


Eventually, Sarah started altering some of her dresses, which meant that I got to help pin them. No big deal.


Until hannaHRose wanted a dress altered, too.


See, hannaHRose is super stressed about being poked with pins. So every time my hand got near her, she would say "Don't poke me." I heard it like, 6 times. It was obnoxious, even though I understand the concern.


I ended up poking myself like, 13987 times in order to make sure hannaHRose didn't get poked. And then her dress required re-pinning and adjusting and was just a general obnoxious pain.


I woke up this morning cranky. I don't know if it was left overs from last night, or being stuck in for 3 days, or what the issue was, but I snapped at Sarah basically the instant she came downstairs. And then I realized I was being super lame.


hannaHRose managed to get her tank out, and when we got home, I started a new project- a crochet pig. It's actually kind of cute.


We moved all the cars today, and hopefully I'll be able to get to work tomorrow... But I was thinking about it, and when I get stuck somewhere, or things aren't going exactly the right way, I seem to revert to "Life sucks."


And really, that's not it. I think sometimes we have good days and we have bad days, but when my outlook on life is "Life sucks", then I'm never going to have a good day.




Pretty good for a brain full of snot.

So that's where peanut butter comes from.