1992.

Growing up I was more than over-the-top about a few things. Mainly: Jose Canseco (the Oakland A's in general, really), Beverly Cleary books (I was convinced that I was Ramona Quimby), oldies music, basketball, my teddy bear, Teddy and Kristi Yamaguchi.

Admittedly, Kristi Yamaguchi seems like an odd fit in a clear list of tomboy favorites. I don't know why I loved her so much, we have very little to nothing in common and I know zero about figure skating. Maybe I loved her because I knew early on that Tonya Harding was trashy and I always prefer classy over trashy (another odd premise coming from a tomboy in rural Arkansas).

Anyway.

This morning Kristi Yamaguchi was on the Today Show and I was swept back to 1992 and the Olympics and one of the greatest presents, to date, that I've ever received: a pair of white, patent leather roller skates with hot pink wheels. I got them at Christmas, just before the 1992 Olympics. I was in heaven wearing them around my kitchen screaming, "I'm Kristi Yamaguchi!"

While watching Kristi on the television this morning I wondered if I had ever properly thanked my parents for those skates. It's hard to say thanks when you're only eight and slightly obsessed with yourself and making videos of yourself dancing to "Too Legit to Quit."

So, that's what I want to say this morning:

Dearest Reg and LJ,

What a great gift you gave me way back in 1991! I loved those skates more than just about anything and I remember trying to cram my foot into them long after I had outgrown them. I forgave you a long time ago for not entering me into any skating competitions, if you were wondering...But, seriously...thanks for the skates and the tolerance of my completely annoying charade of constantly pretending to be someone else whether it was Kristi, Jose Canseco, Michael Jackson, MC Hammer or a dinosaur. I'm sure you spent many nights wondering if I'd turn out somewhat normal and I hope you're resting assuredly that the "somewhat" part is somewhat true. I always had the dumbest dreams and ambitions for my life and you always encouraged me to go after them-- even the one where I wanted to be a professional tennis player and country music singer on the side. Thanks for that. Who knew that those skates would lead me to lead to such a fulfilling life? Well, I'm sure you both did. Duh. Best parents ever.

signed,

little l

dear facebook.

Dear Facebook,

For many years now you have been like a friend to me: an almost constant source of entertainment, a wealth of information. Not to mention the fact that no one loves to shamelessly promote themselves more than I and you provide an avenue in which to do that. Really and truly, the day you decided your users could upload photos onto your site was life-changing for me. Can't sleep at night? Check out some friend of a friend's mother's photos from high school on FB. Feeling lousy about your weekend? Check out a random classmate from elementary school's Christmas decor photos: instant cheering up.

My point is this: FB, you've been good to me. But, I'm kind of fed up with you. You're losing credibility. I've felt like this for a while now. I hate that people think they know what is happening in my life by looking at my Facebook. Maybe they know I went to a Christmas party, but do they know what I had for dinner last night? No.

And the day you, Facebook, started "suggesting" people I should befriend or "connect" with was the day I threw my arms up in surrender. Where does it end, Facebook? Where does it end? I mean, do your homework. You're suggesting that I "reconnect" with people I never connected with in the first place. Where do you get off "suggesting" that I share the news with a girl I sat next to in 8th grade science class and haven't seen since a football game in 11th grade? That's not your place, Facebook. You are not here to "suggest" anything to me.

I hope that you won't find this letter offensive or cruel. If we're good enough friends for you to coerce me into writing something on the girl's wall who one time asked me for notes sophomore year in college then we're good enough friends to share our feelings or "suggestions."

I hope you understand.

I wish I knew how to quit you,

-lc

P.S.

A few years ago one of my very closest friends in the world died and while I would love to "catch up" with her, I don't think sending her a message over FB is the way to do it. It's a nice gesture though.

re-evaluate your life.

Yesterday I was forced to travel to the edge of the Earth (Garland, Texas) to order a bridesmaid dress. Side note: I think a new goal of mine will be to actually travel to each and every major suburb of Dallas in 2010 and write my thoughts on each. I have a feeling most of thoughts will resemble each other and won't be all that positive, but if it's what I have to do, it's what I have to do.

Ordering this dress proved to be a little more than difficult: the first place I went wouldn't exactly fall into the "speaks English fluently" category and involved a phone call to a company from the store's owner that was less than pleasant. Basically, it was super awk.

The next place I ventured to was just past the back forty. This store was hoppin' and boppin' for a Monday. I'm guessing MLK Day brings people out of the woodwork for bridal apparel. That's just a guess though. Anyway. The visit started out nice enough until Shay (although her name on the print out she gave me read: Shequella) started speaking. First, she asked if I was pregnant. I'm sorry, but why would you ask me that? Did I do anything to lead you to believe that I was, in fact, with child? Isn't there a rule somewhere about never asking that question to someone no matter how curious? I told her politely that, "If I'm pregnant, the Virgin Mary just lost some of her clout." She seemed confused and then, apparently, she tried to recover by asking, "Is that baby out there yours?" (Lauren and baby hoodrat, Harper were accompanying me on this trip to Hell). Why would that baby be mine? Was I ever holding the baby? Do I have the ability to dress a child that cute? Didn't you just get your foot out of your mouth? Why would you want it back in there? I told her that the baby was not mine and she finally quieted down a bit. Then, all hell broke loose when she informed that I should order a size 16 dress. I'm sorry, 16? 16, like the number after 15? Even at the most I've ever weighed I didn't need a size 16, how about I try this smaller size just for fun? Ok, great. Well, the smaller size fit just swell and she mumbled something about it being "perfect."

Shay, honey, darling, deary, if you're reading this: please re-evaluate your life and the words that come out of your mouth. But, if I ever get pregnant (immaculate conception or otherwise) you'll be the first to know!

a letter from 1995.

When I found all the poetry from 7th grade lc, I also found a letter from 7th grade lc to 7th grace lc.

It was written three days into the new school year. Real winner.

Dear Lauren,

School started two days ago. I like it. I couldn't get my locker open, but I'm getting better. My locker is 88. I've got the combination down cold, but I can't tell you.

Band is fun. When we start to play our horns I'll have more fun. The 1st day was boring, took Mrs. Reynolds 30 minutes to call roll.

I like all my teachers. They're nice. Maybe I'll talk to you some other time.

Your pal,

Lauren Cowling

Oh, to tell her the things I know now that I didn't know then...

I'd start with telling her that going around telling people you know something, but can't tell them is stupid. Then, I'd tell her to drop out of band ASAP. At least quicker than 9th grade (which is when I did drop it). I'd also tell her that despite the niceness of her teachers and the fact that most of them also taught her Sunday school class, they're still going to call her parents all the freakin' time for being a smart ass. Grow up.

Well, maybe I'll talk to you some other time.

resolution (s).

I'm not much for new year's resolutions. I'm of the mind that if you're doing something shitty in July and you need to stop doing it, you should start in July, not wait until the next year. If you think you aren't eating properly or working out enough, you shouldn't wait until after the holidays to get into shape. I can't think of a worse time to exercise than the most joyous time of the year. I usually only exercise when I seriously can't think of a single other thing to do. Like, not one other thing. Like, I clean my toilet more than I exercise.

I can barely think of two resolutions I've made over my lifetime that stuck. Clearly, I'm disciplined. One of the resolutions I made in college was with a friend of mine. We decided that we were going to resolve to celebrate the changing of every month, not just every year. We forgot before February rolled around. Oopsies.

I'm a sucker for bullshit, so here's my list for 2010:

1. Talk about working out and exercising more. Maybe all the talk will build up to actually doing it. Make a playlist for my iPod titled, "Working on my Fitness," so when people see that they'll think I work out a lot. Or, I could eat less and cut down my alcohol-related caloric intake and lose weight and still let people believe I'm working out.

2. Work on my cussing around babies.

3. Buy new black work flats. My current ones look like I stole them from a homeless, yet business-casual vagabond.

4. Go visit my brosef and S-I-L at their home in little, tiny Harrison, Arkansas for a whole weekend just because.

5. Throw something off a bridge out of anger.

6. Listen to less rap music and more talk radio.

We'll see how these go, but I mean, let's be honest-- if I can accomplish these, 2010 is looking to be a bangin' year.

against my better judgement.

The past couple of years at Christmas I've taken a stab at doing the Christmas card thing. You know, a cutesy picture of me, by a tree, in a turtleneck wishing you and yours a merry one. Not really. I've just tried to get on the bandwagon of Christmas mailings even though I'm single, have no children, no dogs to take a photo with (which, I would never do) and no claim to fame that would make anyone excited to receive a Christmas card from me.

I just don't think all the single ladies should be limited to wishing people a Merry friggin' Christmas via the typical mass text. No, I wanted to do what everyone else is doing and send a family Christmas letter.

Against my better judgement I'm posting the letter I sent out.

Most of it, anyway. It's a long one.

Merry (late) friggin' Christmas.

Dear Friends,

Here we are again, that familiar time of year where all is merry and bright. That time of year where the people on the street have a bell to ring rather than just a sign. Yes, it’s Christmas time.

The year of 2009 (the year of the ox, according to the Chinese calendar) was a big one for me. It was a year of many firsts, lots of routine activities, several “never again” and a few extremely interesting experiences.

2009 presented me with my first opportunity to visit New York City, where I attended my first Yankees game. I also traveled to Philadelphia (which was a spot of many firsts for this great nation of mine) for the first time where I marveled at the historic sites and took an individual photo more times than I’d like to admit. I also ate a dipped chocolate chip cookie for the first time. This produced a sugar high like nothing I’ve ever eaten and certainly proved to be an interesting experience for those with me. I went to the hospital on March 11 to serve as a fill-in sister for a dear friend and was one of the first people to welcome a precious baby into the world. This baby is in no way related to me (minus that she’s my sister in Christ), but I have found that I love her with an unconditional love that I have only experienced with pizza, vodka drinks and the internetS. Other notable firsts for 2009 included, but are not limited to: first Celine Dion concert, first Beyonce concert, first time to wear a real women’s watch rather than an over-sized men’s watch with a dirty band, first time to live alone, first time to want to hug George W. Bush after seeing protestors in Dallas when he moved back, first time to consume alcohol on an airplane, first time to eat onions and lettuce on hamburgers and sandwiches and of course, my first time to bring a boy home, fall in love and have my heart broken (I mean, you can’t win them all. And I know that for a fact because I played high school basketball on a team that once lost by 68 points).

Upon reflection, the routine activities are the ones I am most thankful for in 2009. Where it was extremely exciting to experience onions on a sandwich for the first time in 2009 it was even more rewarding to have the routine of waking up every morning, going to a job that I don’t hate, regularly visiting Arkansas and being received countless times with open arms, attending a plethora of weddings and seeing dear friends make a lifetime commitment, attending more than one Razorback game where they met every one of my expectations by letting me down right when I found myself hopeful and of course there’s the daily routine of washing, drying and brushing my pretty-much perfect head of hair. Yes, it’s the routine and every day activities that prove to be the most fulfilling because they serve as a daily reminder of how blessed I am.

What would a year be if some lessons weren’t learned along the way? After a few not-so-awesome moments it can be rest assured that I will never again watch the HBO show, “True Blood,” nor will I ever give 10 bucks to the homeless lady by my office and expect her to remember me the next day and not continue to ask for money, I won’t “reply-all” to an email without first checking who I am replying-all to and I won’t volunteer to be on my office’s party planning committee unless I actually want to plan some parties.

This year also proved to be full of some really interesting incidents. For example, one day I was driving to the grocery store and after switching lanes by correctly using my turn signal to caution other drivers that I was, in fact, switching lanes this other driver took it upon herself to follow me to the grocery store and get out of her car and point her finger at me as if it were a gun and then mouth a not-so-friendly phrase to me. There was also a really interesting conversation with my boss that resulted in a promotion and a lot more responsibility. That was probably the most interesting thing that happened this year besides the time I saw a midget riding a BMX bike down Interstate 35. Or the time a 56-year-old doctor told me he would take me out for Valentine’s day and would take me shopping.

As you can probably infer 2009 was kind of a big year for me personally and professionally. You can figure that out just because I used the word professionally outside of my job.

In conclusion, I do hope this letter finds each of you well and that if your stockings are hung by the fireplace, that they really are hung with care, because I would hate for them to catch on fire. I also hope that during this time of year you are taking time to celebrate the fact that Jesus Christ was born and brought into this world so that each of us could have life everlasting in Him.

Merry Christmas, bitches.

Signed with much fervor,

lc

robert.

I have a wandering mind. Often, the places my own mind takes me is frightening. Whether I'm in the middle of a conversation with someone else or just thinking to myself, I regularly have to say, "Where the hell did that come from?"

It's a blessing and a curse. A curse when you're on the same team as me during charades or catch phrase. The word or phrase could be, sleeping baby and my teammate could be motioning "shhh" and have their arms like they are cradling a baby and I would probably yell, "TOUCHDOWN!" or "The Verizon guy-- can you hear me now?" Which would send me into another fit of diarrhea of the mouth.

Anyway.

Yesterday, I was sitting in church and the sermon was almost finished. Suddenly, I thought, What if Jesus' name was Robert? I spent the rest of my day on this subject.

What if the text we will all read later this week was actually, But the angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God. You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name ROBERT.

Can you imagine?

Oh, to be more like Robert...