Oh, Dad...

So my Dad, whose nickname is Ollie, sends a note that says:

Subject: Sounds like me!
Ollie does not walk that professional.
He teeters and totters and weevils and wobbles.
He fell down on the floor.

To which I say, MOO.

Great Halloween reading

I wonder if I should be worried. I could be going back to sleep for a while (3 hours short of my 8-hour quota)...I could be working...I could be writing...but, no.

I am reading Junie B., First Grader: BOO...and I MEAN IT!

Because I want to. I am not accompanied by my 9-year-old daughter who checked it out from the library. I am just reading it. I started out reading it as "research." Now, I am just reading it. This girl is hilarious! I wish I could find an excerpt from this particular Junie B. Jones book, but I can't.

So, I'll have to make my own. Thanks, author Barbara Park.

Grandma did a little smile. Then she finished buttoning Ollie's sweater. And she put him on the floor to walk to me.

Ollie does not walk that professional.
He teeters and totters and weevils and wobbles.
He fell down on the floor.
Then he patted my shoe very nice. And he said the word moo.
Moo is Ollie's favorite word.

He is not the sharpest tool in the barn.

Grandma bent down to pick him up.
I touched her softie white hair.
Bats would love that hair, I believe.

"I wouldn't go out on Halloween if I were you, Grandma," I said. "Not with that head of hair."

Grandma Miller did a little frown. Then she fluffed her hair very much.

Ian's perspective on things

So, apparently, when Todd moved our old kitchen table and chairs to its new home at Ian's house, Ian thought Todd was part of the package. Heather says when anyone tries to sit in "Todd's chair," he points his finger and gripes at them and says, "No! Ta's! Chair!"

He's probably wondering why Todd keeps forgetting to show up for dinner.

Isn't it ironic...don't you think

Ryan reported Friday that the choir nominated him for homecoming king/court. Each club gets to nominate a boy and girl, I guess, then the school votes. I told him it's ironic that when I was a highschooler, the way you gained popularity and nominations for things like the homecoming court was by being like everyone else--the same clothing, down to the brand and buttons on the fly and alligator on the...um, yeah, on that; the same hairstyle (Do I hear "wings," anyone? Oh, wait that was jr. high); the same neighborhood; and so on. Sameness equalled popularity.

These are the days, my friend. Here is what I came home to one evening recently. Here is your Summit choir choice for homecoming king:


And, yes, he did wear this to school.

Life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
Life has a funny, funny way of helping you out
Helping you out
(from Ironic, Alanis Morissette)

Only in Tejas...and maybe Arizona and a few other places

Tonight while waiting for a pizza at Little Caesar's, I overheard one of the workers say to another, "It's supposed to be cold tonight." The low is supposed to be 59 degrees. We did enjoy our short cold snap today. High was 82, I think, and it was cool enough to play outside with Ian today while I watched him and his mama went to a "Baby Darce" appointment. (That's what he calls the new baby coming. Her name is going to be Darcy.) We played in the back AND the front yards and I took some silly pictures, some Ian pics, and some flower pics (which I haven't done in a while). Some pictures were all three! I think I'll post some here.

More on 9/11

I completely forgot about this photo I took last fall when we were in Newport, RI. Walking toward the little arch on the cliff walk where someone had painted the phrase "Love is Life," (I have it in my profile pic), I came across this. I have a little obsession with photographing graffiti, and usually it creates positive feelings (like here), but this chilled me. I've wondered ever since what the artist's thoughts were as he or she created this. (Click on the photo to see more detail.)

Whisper "Hope"

Does talking to your daughter in the car after you just dropped her off at school mean you are losing your mind, or does it mean you were distracted from everyday life for a moment by the radio while you listened to the bell toll and the names of those killed from DFW in the 9/11 events five years ago?

Everyday life is much the same, but completely different than it was five years ago. Some days, hope is a distant concept when reading the news, others it's so tangible you can feel it.

I remember curling my hair on 9/11/01 and stopping halfway through to listen in disbelief to the reports on the radio. I don't remember curling the other half. I remember lying in bed that night and several more, waking every hour or so to surprising emotion as I imagined myself in the shoes of victims and their families.

Earlier today, God gave us a metaphorical reminder in Arlington of his constant presence. The bright sky suddenly darkened and there was a fast and hard rain shower, followed by the burst of sunlight, unveiled again. Even in the storm, the sun was there.

Gently whisper "Hope."

Wow.

Wow.

Wow.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADokI_epIgI

Who really runs the world?

I'm observing 13th birthday girl party dynamics this evening and contemplating one of life's little ironies.

Why is it that (loud) people have no qualms about asking, "Why are you so quiet? You never talk," and nobody seems to think it rude. BUT...it is considered in poor taste and we (quiet people) can only dream of saying, "Why are you so loud? You never stop talking."

Hmm.