Tuesday, March 31, 2009

learning is growing.

I love to learn. And I don't use the term love loosely here. I really do love to learn. I think a lot of it stems from my desire to constantly belittle people with my huge brain against their little baby brains, but hey-- we all have our faults. 

I can vaguely remember things I learned in high school. I bet I can recount everything right here: cash is always a credit, how to play games on a TI-83, zone defenses are for lazy basketball teams and STDs are the gift that keep on giving. 

And there you have it. That is all I can remember from high school. Literally. I just racked my brain.  I don't think college was much better: I re-learned about cash in accounting, Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs (personal fave), the difference between a waxing and waning moon, how to use Photoshop and InDesign and of course, millions of Spanish words. 

Looking back at that, I'm feeling much better about my college education. Like, I actually gained something from it besides weight and a friends list two miles long. 

Anyway. Even though I feel exponentially smarter just recounting everything I learned in four years of college I feel like I've learned way more from the internetS and reality television than I ever did in college or high school. 

I would like to share those things (these are mainly from reality tv) now:
  • Little people can do normal things.
  • You can be famous for doing absolutely nothing.
  • A messy house reflects poorly on your marriage.
  • If you constantly yell at your husband in front of the camera eventually tabloids will accuse your husband of adultery. 
  • If you work out for 6 hours a day and have a personal trainer and eat right, you can lose hundreds of pounds.
  • You don't have to be married or have children to be a housewife-- I think that is an incredible amount of knowledge, because for so long now I honestly thought you HAD to be a wife to be a housewife! WRONG-O!
  • Tyra Banks is smarter and prettier than everyone alive. Ever.
  • Seven people can be strangers, move in together and fight just like they've been friends forever. Good to know. I figured only roommates that were friends could fight.

I know that I've learned more than that, but I want others to learn on their own. 

2teach is
2touch lives

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

miracle of miracles.

The last couple of posts, on this very blog, started up a conversation at my homestead with my friendly and roomie, Morgh-anne (SHOUT OUT), about life-changing days. Because this is the internets and I am the sole proprietor of this very blog, I can start a series of posts on days that have changed my life and because you are bored at work you will read it (I'm starting to really love how that works).

April 4, 1994.
I will never forget this day.

I will never forget rushing up the drive-way of my house from school on that Monday afternoon. It was sunny. It was the first year I ever remember paying attention to the NCAA Tournament because one of Russellville's very own, Corliss Williamson, was the golden boy of college basketball that year.

I'll spare the details about the length of my hair (short as hell, like a mushroom and not at all attractive) and what I was wearing, but I will tell you we ate pizza. We ate pizza and we called the Hogs. We ate pizza, we called the Hogs and we prayed.

I think this was honestly the first time I ever consciously prayed for something and knew what I was praying for and why I was praying for it (And please, please remember I was 11. Now, I only pray for the Razorback football team, I skip basketball all together).

I remember the second-half of the game being very much back-and-forth. A struggle, if you will. My father instructed my Brosef (SHOUT OUT) and I to sit on the floor and send the Razorbacks "good vibes" while they shot free-throws. At one point my Brosef was undoubtedly convinced that Clint McDaniel was making free-throws because he was sitting in the floor of our living room humming and chanting, while sitting Indian-style. And you know what? We were all so elated about Clint making those free-throws that no one had the heart to tell him that he had nothing to do with it. For the only time that I can remember growing up my family threw reality out the window.

Arkansas hit a three-pointer with 50 seconds left on the clock and that shot ultimately sealed their fate. They were the NCAA National Champions and my family was in Hog Heaven.

That day changed my life for a number of reasons. First off, I truly believed Jesus cared about that basketball game and that he answered my prayers. I wanted to pray to him forever after that. It seems like he stopped listening to my prayers about basketball games though sometime when I started suiting up for the Russellville High School Lady Cyclones. Surely, if he was listening we would've won more than 12 games in my last two seasons. Oopsies, J-Man. Second, it brought my family together like only a basketball game could. The memories of watching that game with my parents and my Brosef are some of the sweetest I have from my childhood. And last, it gave me something to believe in. Watching Corliss Williamson, a kid who grew up not too far from me, do something so awesome convinced me I could do the same. From that day on, up until the day Jesus stopped answering my basketball prayers, I too was convinced I was going to win a national championship.

Oh, to be a Razorback fan and hold on to things that happened in 1994 and will absolutely never happen again while I am still kicking it breathing style... Cheers.

Monday, March 23, 2009

whole new world.

I have a crazy memory. Definition of crazy memory: I can remember absolutely everything from my life. Dates, times, places, people, outfits, songs on the radio-- everything (well, everything minus exact conversations, a trait that seems to make a lot of people very unhappy). I can't lie and say it isn't a great thing to be able to remember your life at such a high level, but there comes a time for everything to be etched into the internetS, which is what I am planning on doing...NOW.

This past Saturday, March 21, 2009 I ventured down to Alamo-town, San Antonio, with my friendly of Choose Your News fame, Deano (SHOUT OUT). Long, long ago when we became friends we discovered our completely uncommon love for most people our age for Designing Women, politics, Billy Joel, John Wesley and our not so uncommon love for Reba, Celine Dion, Mallory Hardin (SHOUT OUT) and hair products.

The friendship has remained true to its roots to this day, which is why when I discovered that Sir Elton John and Billy Joel were playing in my fair state there was only person I would even consider going with. I knew from the time that she agreed to venture into the great state of Texas that this day was going to be life-changing, I just didn't know on what scale. Turns out, there isn't a scale to measure this type of change in a young (or semi-young) person's life, because how do you even begin to measure FREAKING AMAZING? Yeah, I don't think you can.

Long story short: Deano and I were preparing to trek up to the summit of the AT&T Center. We were devising our plan of attack when a man sprung from a corner and asked where we were sitting. I was completely confused and a little nervous (danger stranger). But, Deano being the champ that she is remained calm and collected and let this man know that our tickets were more valuable in our hearts than what the ticket stub actually said. He was sold and promptly handed over two front row tickets for us to use at our discretion. But, we had no discretion and immediately ran down to the front row. I was in shock for most of Elton's show, but loosened up when the Piano Man finally took the stage.

This concert changed my life. And not just because of the drunken couple next to us making babies. No, this concert just proved that good things really can happen to good people. I'm absolutely without a doubt convinced that Mr. Billy Joel read my post about Ashley Scarlett and sent his tour man on a hunt to find me and reward me. And to that I say, "Thank you, Ashley Scarlett and thank you, Billy Joel, do you mind if I call you Billy? Thanks, Billy."

Billy singing, "We didn't Start the Fire." I honestly cried. I mean, what a great historical tribute to our nation and its flaws.

Sir Elton waving to some people really far behind me. Deano and I met the lady he wrote, "Candle in the Wind," for in the cab line after the concert. Ask me about it sometime.

We got a member of the Roloff family to take our picture.

Then, we got two slightly intoxicated Elton fans to take our picture with the tickets. Thanks for nothing.

Thursday, March 19, 2009


Getting ready to hunker down and watch some NCAA March Madness has caused me to think about some of my own experiences with upsets or the proverbial choke that eventually happens to all good teams or players.

Growing up, I played softball until 7th grade. I was pretty decent. And by decent I mean, I had the deadly triple-threat combination of being able to hit, throw and catch. You could've labeled me an All-Star and you would not have been that far off (toot-toot, I think that's my own horn).

Anyway, I digress. I quit in 7th grade to "pursue other opportunities." Honestly, I'm pretty positive that's what I told most of my softball playing friends. Who says that? Especially as a 7th grader? My other opportunities were AAU basketball. Which really just boiled down to one opportunity. One opportunity to spend every weekend of my spring and summer sitting on the end of the bench in a really obscure gymnasium usually, in Little Rock or maybe Pine Bluff. On a good weekend we were in Fayetteville. Oh, there I go again digressing.

So, I quit in softball in 7th grade and picked it back up again in 11th grade playing for my church team. What a band of misfits-- one church secretary, the music minister's daughter, one high school assistant principal, one regular lady in her mid-30s and six or seven of my friends. Somehow we managed to win more games than we lost and then came the proverbial choke. My horse was no longer high.

They put me in at pitcher. We had a huge lead. I walked nine straight batters and gave up on pitching. One of my friends stepped in and walked two more batters. She tossed the ball back to me. Another walked batter. And that's when my life changed forever.

I walked away from the pitching rubber to "re-group," if you will. And you will. The church secretary walked over to me and whispered things in my ear no church secretary should know about. I'm talking bombs. F-bombs, S-bombs, D-bombs-- you name the four-letter word and she said it to me. I mean, I knew Methodists were pretty liberal and more open about abusing grace than a Baptist, but this was too much! It's not like my Sunday School teacher was offering to wash my feet while listening to DMX-- where was the line? I limped back to the pitching rubber and got us out of the inning. We won the game.

I never pitched again, which is probably good because the church secretary would've needed to go to church every single day for 16 years to make up for the tongue lashing she gave me.

Monday, March 16, 2009

put it on my tombstone.

I have no fear in telling the internetS that I was fairly accomplished in high school. There is no fear in sharing that because, first off, it's just a fact. Second, you can look it up and lastly, that was seven years ago and who the hell cares?

So, yeah, I was fairly accomplished in high school and I thought I was pretty cool. Then, I went to college and came to find out: everyone else was fairly accomplished, much smarter, a lot prettier and had dozens of purses to choose from on any given occasion.

The day I moved into my dorm room I knew I wasn't much when I saw the girl three doors down from me carry in a whole box of belts. A whole box of belts? I had two belts: black and brown.

Immediately, I had to think of something to set myself apart from the girl and her belt collection. I drove a '93 Corolla, so my car was out. I had a chi straightener, but so did half the dorm. Then, it hit me! I don't drink! That's it! I'll be the girl that doesn't drink alcohol. Oh, then I met some girls that quickly became my best friends and they didn't drink either. So, I made the decision that would forever shape me: I decided that I would never, ever, ever drink a beer. The barley and hops would never touch my lips (but, the vodka definitely would).

And now, at 25, that's my accomplishment: I've never consumed a beer of any kind. That, and I know the Presidents in chronological order.

Put it on my tombstone. Or not. It's whatevies, I'll be dead.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

birth day.

I was lucky enough to be at the hospital yesterday afternoon when Lil' Hoodrat Harper finally made her not-so-casual, yet fashionably late entrance into this economically troubled world.

I'm incredibly thankful for a friend like Lauren who will let me be a part of this whole labor and delivery process (not that I did anything besides show up with some off-brand My Little Ponies and sit in the waiting room). I'm even more thankful that her mother and Mare were there to explain some parts of the birthing process to me. I'll go ahead and say it-- I'm not ready for children. I know this fully because I'm still overwhelmed by the fact that yesterday at this time Harper WAS INSIDE of Lauren functioning and now she's OUTSIDE functioning. I mean, what?

It's safe to say that that little gUrl is going to be so loved and I can't wait for her to look back and realize some day that there were so many people there waiting on her arrival and that she is and was loved long before she ever decided to show up. I also hope she realizes that it's an incredible testament to who her parents are that people would come and wait on her. She's a blessed kid already.

BTW, I can't wait until we can start texting.

I think I'll call her, "Angel Face," that is until she realizes it's completely creepy. Especially coming from me.

They let me hold her. I was probably more worried than anyone else though. Grace abounds.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

to harper, on her birthday.


Right now, at this moment, you are on your way into the world. Unfortunately, you're moving a little slow and very much at your own pace. I respect that, I do, but I hope by the time you're 12 and we're going on road trips you realize there is only one pace-- mine.

Anyway. Today is March 11th. Not a bad day to be born. I kind of like the numbers actually. And you aren't going to be over-shadowed by any holidays. Well, except Lent, but that's more of a season and I doubt anyone will be giving you up for Lent, so you should be safe.

There are some pretty interesting things going on in the world today, your mom is busy and apparently your father hurt himself lifting weights, so I am going to act as scribe to remember all that is going on today.

First off, in an unprecedented move American Idol has 13 contestants. I know, right? I wish I could give you some more info, but I haven't watched last night's episode yet, because you should know-- Tuesday night is for Biggest Loser. I apologize.

Lost is your parents favorite show. I'm kind of nervous about tonight actually, I hope your dad can juggle your birth and watching tonight!

Barack Obama is president. Yes, he's black. So, it's a pretty big deal. Hopefully, by the time you're older it won't be as big a deal, maybe it'll even be common. I'd like that.

Democrats are in control in Congress. It's interesting. Oh, and everyone on The Hill (Capitol Hill) is obsessed over Twitter. You should get a Twitter so everyone knows your every move. Or not.

The Arkansas Razorbacks had a pretty poor season last year. Alabama kicked the you know what out of them, but things are looking up for this season. I mean, Casey Dick is gone. So, that's good.

Chris Brown beat up Rihanna. And she forgave him. I'm all about grace, but COME ON. Britney Spears is back on tour. I'm going, so I'll update you on that later.

Harper, you're really coming into the world at an interesting time. Times are changing. I'm glad you'll be along for the ride. I can't wait until you start texting! It's all the rage.

See you sooner than later,
Auntee lc

Thursday, March 5, 2009


I need to be clear: I am incredibly blessed to be in Dallas with a great job, awesome friends and a wonderful hair dryer. But, there's just something about going home (I use the term, "home" loosely when describing the western portion and Little Rock areas of Arkansas) that fills up my soul in an indescribable way.

I swear my feet are lighter, my smile is bigger and my hair produces more volume in the form of a "poof," on the weeks I know I am headed north-- homeward bound.

I'm just saying it's pretty awesome to have two places to call home. Two places to put your feet up, two places where you know you're loved, two places you can't ever really imagine leaving (even if you did) and two places that offer up quality hair products at affordable prices.
The first sign of home-- ANO--The Big Job.

The Arkansas "poof."

My heartbeat: Old Main.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

not shocking.

Come on, who was honestly shocked last night while watching The Bachelor? I know this is a family- friendly blog, that constantly proclaims the Gospel of Jesus Christ, so you'll have to forgive me for the following: what a piece of shit. I mean, that is all that comes to mind. That asshole of a Bachelor is nothing but a piece of shit. 

He's like a senior in high school, dates the senior girl, his equal all throughout high school, then it's time for prom and suddenly, he breaks up with the senior girl and asks out the sophomore. Piece. of. Shit. 

Jason is not awesome, but I guess he is normal. I'll give him credit for that. I hope Molly buys some new jeans for Jason. His flare leg denims are stressing me out, period. 

Monday, March 2, 2009

coming soon.


Nothing makes me as giddy as an empty tomb.

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