White Pickup Trucks and #CallingOnJesus

Can I just mainline my coffee? I mean, seriously—lay open my veins, and shove that stuff in.

Ugh—Every day this week, as I’ve gotten into my car and started to pray (yeah, you’d pray in my car, too), it’s been, “Oh, Lorrrrrd!!!!” As in, “holy crap, it’s 5 am, and I just don’t want to be awake right now!!!!!!” Part prayer, part exclamation, and all exasperation: My mornings are no joke, people. I’m up at 4:15 (and will admit to hitting the snooze button at least once); I’ll take a few minutes for the body basics, grab some clothes (which, if I’m smart, I’ll have picked out the night before), and feed the dog. As I leave my bedroom, I’ll take a quick look around the room…my eyes will linger on the sleeping forms of my husband and my son, and my heart will whimper at the thought of leaving them behind (it doesn’t get better. I miss my baby every single day).

My socks MIGHT match my outfit, but frankly, I don’t care. No one will see them (at least, that’s what I tell myself). I might have a few minutes to do a few dishes or switch laundry loads; I’ll throw a small amount of makeup on, wrestle my hair into submission, and warm up the car while I make a smoothie. By then, it’s 5:00am, and I’m on the road for a 45-minute (to an hour) long commute…

It’s a good time to pray and focus on the day.

It’s also a good time to observe the world around me…

White pickup trucks are the bane of my existence. Most of the people on the road with me are fellow hard-workers like myself; these darn White Pickup Drivers tend to be overbearing, pains-in-my-butt. They speed up behind my compact car, headlights blaring into my rearview mirror. They’ve chased me once or twice, when I didn’t switch lanes in their timing. They’ve passed me, then gone in front of me to slam on their brakes, to make a point (good thing I don’t tailgate). They’ve shouted, honked, and been mostly belligerent to me and other drivers on the road. WPDs tend to be absolute jerks on the road, especially in inclement weather; they act like they’re the best drivers in the world, and the rest of us are only in their way. I’m singling out the White Pickup Drivers, but really, it’s Pickup Drivers as a whole, at 5 am. I’m not a fan.

These sentiments are not the same as my vitriol for the Female SUV Driver—that’s a personal, sexist rant against my own gender. But, unless you have 3 or more people in that SUV,  and have taken some kind of consideration as to the amount of space your SUV takes up when you drive/park, then you need to drive something you can handle. West County Female SUV Drivers are an entirely different species of bad/inconsiderate/dippy drivers. Someone should ban them to only being able to drive crossover/compact cars…or force them to hire chauffeurs. I’m also (you guessed it) NOT a fan.

This is only part of why I pray during my commute. Trust me: it’s for the benefit of the general population. It never ceases to amuse me when I’m in the middle of praying, and someone cuts me off. It goes a little something like this:

“God, thank You for today; I pray that as I go through my day, that I can live in a way that honors You-HEY-YOU-@$$HAT-GET-IN-YOUR-OWN-LANE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Um, sorry, Lord…I really need You to help me get through today, because I’m really, really tired. Lord, I really am working for the weekend! God, I ask that you watch over my husband and my son today-HEY, THAT-WAS-JUST-RIDICULOUS!!!!!  GET OFF OF MY BUMPER, JERK!!!!!!!”

And that’s how my drive to work/prayer time tends to go, LOL.

Good thing God has a sense of humor.

I love that Jesus accepts me as I am, but challenges me in a loving way to be better. Obviously, I have a long way to go.

That’s never more apparent then when I’m driving at 5:00am.

#CallingOnJesus

 

 

TED Talks and parental guilt...

Time flies…

13 months ago, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy…and I unknowingly got on this strange, crazy, incredible roller coaster of parenthood.

I mean, sure, people tell you it’s insanity…but you never realize it until it’s your turn. And once you’ve started it, there’s absolutely no looking back.

Not that I’d want to.

It’s terrifying-scary-amazing-wonderful-hilarious-trying-miraculous-and...all of the above.

And it teaches you just how much you truly have to rely on God for every breath.

I’ve also realized that nothing induces more guilt on you, than parenthood. I mean, seriously—every complaint that someone has about something you have, or every brag that you hear about something you don’t or couldn’t do—every little thing causes you to step back and say to yourself, “Oh, man…I don’t do it like that. Is there something wrong? Am I doing it wrong? AM I GOING TO TRAUMATIZE HIM FOR LIFE?!?!?!?”

I heard on a TED Talk that when you yell and scream at a baby/toddler, that it affects the part of the brain that controls impulses, that later on, leads them to turn into serial killers. And then I read that if you ignore your child (i.e., time-out), that it has the same effect on their brain as if you had physically abused them. So now, I’m like, freaking out about yelling at David in front of the baby—does it bother JD? I have to stop yelling—I mean, I’m a total yeller who was raised by yellers. It’s all we know; David is NOT generally a yeller, but I’ve kind of turned him into one…AM I TURNING MY SON INTO A SERIAL KILLER?!?!?!?!?!

I know, it sounds preposterous. But these are the paranoid ramblings of MEEEEE! And these are the things I worry about in the middle of the night…

And of course, there’s no yelling “at” JD at this point. There is, however, immediate separation if he does something like grab my glasses, while he’s sitting on my lap (with a firm “NO!”). There is also a firm “NO!” when he’s into something he’s not supposed to be, and the occasional tap on the hand (for the dangerous stuff), along with a quick pick-him-up-and-move-him. Distraction is the best form of correction, as discipline in any form is kind of pointless.

I’m a stress-yeller, and I have to stop it…I have to remove many words from my vocabulary, as he’s begun to repeat things (i.e., “Ball!” “Duck!”).  If he can say those things, I’m guessing he will learn to repeat several choice words that sound similar…and I need Jesus!!! So, language and tone are a definite work in progress, and trying to tell certain people in our lives to begin that process in THEIR lives is not going well…Ugh.

So, JD is standing now…he’s working on molars…he’s repeating words, and he fully understands his first complete sentence: “What’s this?”  Yep—he gets it! He even used it, in context, in front of the Parents As Teachers lady, who was totally impressed. Yep—he’s a genius, but not a freak-show-kind-of-genius. He’s a let’s-encourage-this-but-stay-normal kind of genius. He doesn’t have any food allergies that we know of (praise GOD!) and he eats anything he can get his hands on. We took our time introducing “regular” foods, and are just now starting to give him actual meals instead of pureed food. He’s independent; he’s able to spot something, get it, focus on it and play with it, and get into whatever he wants. I love how he surveys a room, picks someone or something, stares them down, and eventually, rewards them with a smile. He’s quite popular wherever he goes, and I find myself becoming increasingly protective.  

Can I just keep him in a bubble? This world is overwhelming…endless stories of abuse, kidnapping, drugs—I barely want to step outside, as an adult. I understand my parents’ protectiveness so much more; thank God I was raised in a world that didn’t have the Internet! We’re ALREADY talking about computer privacy issues, and he’s not even walking yet!!!! JD is fascinated with our phones and tablets, even though we don’t let him play with them; they make toys that hold your phone in them, and interact with apps!! ALREADY!!

There are little boys in my neighborhood that play football in the backyard.

That’s what I want…

Play in the backyard; ignore the TV. Make friends in person, not on Facebook. Play baseball, football, soccer…play with the dog or go fishing with Auntie.

The world has presented a platter of fears that my brain just wants to feast on…drugs, violence, crime…How do I prevent any of it from touching my son? He’s the joy of my heart; I can’t even look at his picture without smiling. I want to preserve his innocence forever…but reality is bigger than me.

But it’s not bigger than God.

Raising a child, I’m learning, takes more trust in God than I ever thought…I have to believe that the One Who gave him to us, will take care of him…that He will teach us how to raise him in a Godly way, in a truthful, holy way…I have to trust that our motives and our directions are anchored firmly in His Word and in His plan. Faith outweighs fear, and I believe that…I believe that He holds us, regardless of where we are in life: brand-new and shiny, or old codgers waving canes…

The roller-coaster of parenthood has one consistent track throughout the twists and turns: Jesus. He doesn’t change or fade; He doesn’t leave us hanging. Both Rescuer and Challenger, He sends us out to walk on the ocean…to live in a restless, turbulent world…and He asks us to simply believe He will save us.

My son belongs to Him…my husband belongs to Him…And, because I believe Him, I belong to Him.

The world tells me that I’m messing everything up…it constantly undermines my decisions or tells me I’m not good enough. Jesus takes my pennies of faith, and He moves mountains with them. He takes my mustard seeds, and He uses them to somehow implant faith and hope into my son. He takes my prayers…my tiny, quick, conversations with Him…and He invests it into my marriage, my home, and my family.

Thirteen months ago, out of the very center of my being, came the fruition of years of prayer, tears, and love…He gives us what we need to raise this child for Him. The world can have their research, their lectures, and their materials. I have the Word of God, and it tells me that He’s got this.

That’s all I need to know…

Sunshine, Mini-vans, and Jake Owen...

SUNSHINE!!!!!
THERE IS SUNSHINE!!!
Allow me to bask in it just a little longer...
Seriously, when I can't sleep at night, I dream up details of what kind of house I'd have, and where I'd live, if money were no object...For some reason, I always come back to Georgia (I've mentioned that before), and the beach...
Alabama would work, too...
Anywhere Southern, where the sweet tea runs through your veins, and the sand squishes between your toes...
Anywhere that isn't cold...
This winter has, to put it mildly, SUCKED. It's been brutal, and I'm pretty sure we're all suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder. In spite of copious amounts of OTC Vitamin D, I still feel like I haven't seen my friend, the Sun, in months and months of gray, clammy, cold, murderous winter...
I've lost more vacation days due to bad weather than to what I consider to be a true vacation, and I'm SO tired of it...
The Sun is shining outside of my office window,
And I can't help but open my windows, even though the air is chilly...
I've been listening to 93.7 The Bull in the mornings, because of the Bobby Bones show; they will periodically play a Jake Owen song, and I've kinda fallen in love with the guy. He sings my dream life--sunshine, the beach, and more sunshine. Of course, as a country singer he can't help but mention alcohol, which I can give-or-take...but his songs about the happiness of summer make me almost melancholy with longing.  I want to lie back on a Pontoon boat in the middle of a lake and Just. Get. Baked (no, not stoned-kind-of-"baked!" Sunburned!!!! Sheesh.). 
A true vacation is not in the budget this year...or probably, next year...The Cooley Camry has come to the end of her amazing tenure, and the search is on for a carseat-friendly, great-gas-mileage kind of car. I have no idea how, or when, but we know it has to happen this year. So, we forego sunshine and shopping, and possibly a kidney, and begin the search for a family-friendly, sensible car. (No, Dad, I will NOT drive a minivan!!!!!!).
So, I will have to make myself content with listening to Jake Owen sing about surfboards and barbecue (wait, does he have a song about that?!?), and dreaming about my Georgia beach house with the Southern wrap-around porch (with a hammock)....
Sigh...

P.S...This is not a "gripey" blog...this is just me missing summer....so don't hate. I currently love the sunshine that's pouring into my office, and I've loved that I've gotten to go outside for walks every day this week!  C'mon, warm weather!

Happiness is...

Lots of people use blogs, Twitter, and Facebook as a method of virtual vomit. I see far more complaining done online than happy thoughts (I am occasionally guilty of it, myself). I, for one, would like to share some recent Happy Thoughts with you:
1.  I fixed our plumbing under our sink, and saved us from buying a $100 garbage disposal.
2. David did not kill me when I decided to dive under the sink in the attempt to fix said plumbing (my previous attempts at "fixing" plumbing have not gone well).
3.  David and I had an actual, honest-to-goodness DATE on Saturday! We went Roller Skating, and went to Bandana's.
4. Bandana's is NOT a calorie-killer. I was pleasantly surprised to splurge, but still remain under my daily calorie count (bring on the Summer BBQ! Oklahoma Joes, HERE I COME!)
5. Speaking of Calorie Count, www.MyFitnessPal.com is a fantastic site/app for tracking your intake. I love it.
6. David's mother is doing much better after her surgery. Initially, we didn't have that report, and things were not looking good. She's had some major improvement.
7.  We did not die on our Roller Skating Adventure. However, we didn't last more than an hour, and we gave up. We weren't mind-numbingly sore the next day, which was nice...but it will be a while before we try that again!
8. There is an abundance of babies being born in our church family...and for probably the first time, I got to hold 2 tiny baby girls, without having that awful hole in my heart threaten to swallow me. It was wonderful to hold baby girls and feel nothing but joy!
9. The sun is out today...I took a walk today...and my husband is currently helping me with the laundry (how DO 3 PEOPLE generate so much laundry?!?).  Also, we have new sheets, thanks to a surprise clearance at Target...and I'm thinking about redecorating the bedroom in butter yellow and gray.
10. The Happiest Thought of All:  My parents kept my son over the weekend. The first night, I felt like a black hole swallowed my house. Although that feeling dissipated over the next few days (thanks to regular updates and calls), words cannot describe the feeling that came over me when I got to my parents' house, went to the top of the stairs, and saw my little guy. As soon as he saw me, his face erupted into the biggest smile EVER. He crawled toward me as fast as he could; when I scooped him up, he started giggling and patting my face.

Yeah, I look like a heifer in this picture. I don't care. I'm grinning so big that my eyeballs have completely disappeared. That's my son...my love, my joy, and my promise. The second best part of that day was when David got home from work, and I got to watch the scene repeated between Father and Son. To me, that's love...I think this will always be one of my favorite pictures of the two of us.

We missed him so much...having him back just feels like home is home. I'm so thankful that Mom and Dad kept him for these 4 days...But I think it's going to be a while before we do that again!!!

(I am, to be honest, so well-rested that I feel like I went on a vacation....not gonna lie, I haven't slept that well in over a year:)

 

I have to wonder...Does God look that happy when His children come home to them?  I'm sure that's just a shadow of how He really feels...I want to bring Him that kind of joy every day...Parenting sure does teach you a lot about the Lord!!!!!

 

And there, people, are 10 Happy Thoughts to detour you from the Garbage Disposal called Facebook.

 

Lip Service on Sunday Mornings....

So, when I said I was going to be honest on this blog, I meant it. Some Sunday mornings just feel like I'm sitting here paying lip service to God. Like, I'm here. I've turned in my two-three hours...I'm good. Worship is "nice." The sermon is "nice." Blah, blah, blah.
Today is one of those days. I'm checked out. I could make the effort to check in, but why? Can't I just be like 20-40% of the typical congregation, & jump on my tablet/phone/laptop, etc.? I'm tired-God, can't I just get a free pass?
Really?!?
He's the Maker of the Stars, & I want to bypass actively engaging in worship because "I'm tired."
How and why does He put up with me?!?
Other people in this room are crying out to God. They recognize their place, but I'm still here...on my tablet. So is the guy next to me...the guy in front of me...I don't know-I really can't and shouldn't judge. Maybe their electronic devices are some kind of gateway for their Divine Revelation.
I have a choice: Engage. Acknowledge. Worship. Learn. Fellowship.
Or
See how well my electronic device does at redeeming my soul.

He misses me.
He wants to hear my voice.
He loves me...

He deserves far more than Lip Service on a Sunday Morning.

Valentine's Day, Black Holes, MILs, Sublime, & The Doggy Dance of #Random

I woke up this morning with no idea of what day it was. In fact, I thought my alarm had gone off in error, and I was ready to turn it off. I realized, Hey! No, you dork! It’s FRIDAY! You have to go to work!!!!  I slept like I was drugged last night (I swear, I didn’t take anything—not even a glass of wine…hey, wine sounds good!). I was SO out of it, that when I “fixed” my hair (this involves me sticking my head under the sink; giving it a towel-dry; adding copious amounts of a leave-in conditioner; somehow combing the tangles out with the ONLY comb that doesn’t break when it attacks my hair; and leaving), I think I stayed under the faucet for like, 5 solid minutes under cold water. I have no explanation for why I’m suddenly so hard to wake up today. …

Okay, maybe I do…

Little guy is at my parents’ house for the weekend (David’s mother is having major surgery today, and he also planned some sort of Valentine’s surprise for me—what is THAT?!?!?, and I have a doctor’s appointment on Monday; plus, there’s a church dinner, a surprise party—shoot, it’s just a crazy weekend), so I didn’t sleep as lightly as I’ve trained myself to do (there’s no training—it’s called “motherhood,” and it comes naturally…along with eyes in the back of my head). I slept like pre-baby Cassidy, and although it felt like something was off, it still felt awesome.

I didn’t dream…didn’t think…I just slept like the dead (notice I didn’t say, “slept like a BABY?” Yeah, THAT is a misnomer). I was out cold, and I can’t remember the last time I woke up this discombobulated. (I love that I spelled that word correctly, without the use of Spell-Check. Score!)

(As I’m typing this, I’m not editing it—thus, the copious usage of parenthesis. Consider this a live version of my ADD.)

So, I pop on PandoraOne, and it starts me out with “Santeria” by Sublime. Call me a ‘90’s throwback if you will; I love this band. No one sounds like Sublime (sorry, 311). Gritty, bouncy, danceable, rebellious, bob-your-head, rawk-fist music that makes you want to do your best to “sing” along…except, you just can’t, because most of their subject matter is simply awful. I still like them, and to me, it’s a good start to the soundtrack of the day.  Having the morning to myself leads to awesome opportunities to sing loudly and badly, and I did just that, while making my coffee.

Speaking of coffee, David and I are on a fitness plan to lose some weight. Coffee, sadly, is not on that plan; though I gave it up cleanly my first week, it has worked its evil way back into my life. I’m drinking less of it, but after reading that my go-to Starbucks venti Pike’s Place with Classic Sweetness has like, 400 calories, I’m going to have to give it up again. Boo. When I wait until I’m at work to make my coffee, my machine only makes 12 oz. at the most, so that’s a guaranteed decrease from my usual 24 oz. I can work with that.

Anyway, it’s a short day for me at the office, followed by a trip to the hospital to be there for David’s family. My MIL has had bad health for a few years now; evidently, before I met my husband, she was an active, busy woman. I’ve only known her as someone who is disabled. She has severe osteoporosis, epilepsy, and diabetes with complications, so I’ve never seen her on a day without pain. She’s spent the past year in a major back brace, and this surgery, though awful, will hopefully correct her issues. She’s facing a very, very long recovery, and could definitely use your prayers. As any daughter-in-law, I’m not entirely convinced that my MIL likes me…after all, I “stole” her baby boy (actually, HE stole ME—just ask my daddy). She’s a simple woman, and a helluva cook! I’ve also very rarely heard her say anything negative about anyone, and in her own way, she reminds me of my Grandma Myers (really, there’s no higher compliment I could pay anyone). She’s old-school, loves Jesus, and has a serious obsession with making jewelry and knitting. She’ll be making buckets of things while she’s in rehab!

Last night, I called her to give her some moral support before her surgery. Just a tip, people: if you know someone who is going in for major surgery, DO NOT TELL THEM ALL OF YOUR MACABRE HORROR STORIES ABOUT OTHERS WHO HAVE HAD THE SAME SURGERY WITH COMPLICATIONS! My poor MIL has had to hear about others’ surgeries and complications for weeks; she says she’s not afraid, but I can hear it in her voice. Ridiculous—I’d like to smack a few of her so-called “friends.” Stupid people—I think they got their Encouragement Lessons from Oscar the Grouch.

In the course of our conversation, we talked about my Hannah-girl. Gosh, I miss that baby girl…and no, my son does NOT fill the void. Not only is that impossible; it’s ridiculous to assume or to put that pressure on him. He is his own blessing, and was not born to take the place of another. He’s created his own beautiful place in my heart. Hannah’s place in my heart will continue to be hers, forever. My MIL has her own understanding about this, and in her simplicity, she manages to say exactly how I feel. Down-home people have no room for rhetoric. They just give you truth, and I love that about her. She’s kind, but she’s honest, and when she says something about Hannah, I listen. With JD being gone this weekend, she understands how I feel like the house is a black hole. She doesn’t tell me I’m being ridiculous. She told me about how it must be, to see JD go through these milestones (he’s standing!), and realizing how I’d never see Hannah do those same things. She’s right—I don’t talk about it much, because I don’t know too many people that I can be candid with about it. She picked up on it, and I have to appreciate that compassion. She nailed it. I don’t always like what she has to say, but I know her heart is good, and I’m thankful to have her in my life. I wish she wasn’t in pain all of the time…

It’s a busy weekend. I really don’t think anyone is happier about this weekend, than Holly-dog. She didn’t seem too sad to see the Tiny Human packed off to Grammy’s. In fact, after I finished soaking in the tub (45 MINUTES!!!) I came downstairs to see my StinkyPete (one of Holly’s 50 nicknames) in MY spot on the couch. Something tells me she’s doing a little Doggy-Dance with Daddy this morning while he gets ready for work.

I hope you have a lovely Valentine’s Day…I thought about getting fixed up for work today, but then was like, “stop bein’ crazy!” I’m not fooling with that nonsense (although I DID wear red). I’ll have some time to get my pretty on after work (for my romantic trip to the hospital). If you’re single, hey—it’s Friday night. Get yourself a pizza and a glass of wine, and celebrate the fact that you can order whatever toppings you like (unlike those of us that are forced to deal with SAUSAGE ON OUR PIZZA-bleh!). Valentine’s Day is NOT a big deal for me (although my Mommy DID get me some lovely, cuddly jammies, so I DID get a nice Valentine), and I think it’s highly over-rated. Married, single, or living-in-sin—whatever you’re doing (it’s between you and God)—I hope you have a wonderful Valentine’s Day. Remember that God is Love, and we’re supposed to be like Him. Be Love Personified today.

Getting Consistent

Well, I said I was going to try and write every day...and today is day 2. Anddddd....I almost forgot. So, thanks to technology, I'm writing this while soaking in a tub. "What's that?!?" you say?!? "You have time to soak in a TUB?!? Aren't you a MOM?!?" Why yes-yes, I am! And my mother has kidnapped my child for the weekend. No-it has nothing to do with V-Day (okay, maybe it does, just a little bit)-it has to do with some in-law family stuff we need prayer for. My MIL is having major surgery, which is sad. I'm hoping it makes her life better after her recovery.
So, after buckling my baby boy into the Gram-Caddy, my house is breathtakingly empty. I feel gutted-it feels like a black hole ate my house. A home without a baby, that's used to having a baby, is a very scary feeling for me, & I am honestly scared. Anxiety is threatening my psyche; I'm not being intentionally melodramatic here. I just hate not having him here. David is already intervening with kindness & hugs; sometimes, he's the Cure for my brand of Crazy. He gets me.
So, I'm going to try to enjoy this weekend (thus, the bath-I've been in here for 45 minutes. #WetNoodle). My mom is supposed to keep me updated...and I expect regular posts on Facebook!
If you notice that my fingernails are chewed off, now you know why. Sigh.

The Death of the Stepford Blog...

The other day, I was sitting at a Starbucks with a friend of mine, engaging in a lot of pointless conversation. We were having such a fantastic, fun time; we caught up on each other’s lives; we laughed about the silliness of our friends and family; and we talked about what was going on in our churches.

It was such a light-hearted conversation! In the middle of it, I stopped and took note: The two of us had been through some significant challenges in our lives. We’ve had many conversations that were heavy and tear-filled. We’ve prayed together, cried together, and held out hope for many wonderful things that have come to pass (and are coming to pass), and she truly is one of my greatest friends. I cherish her friendship more than she knows.

This conversation was one of the reasons why: Even in the midst of issues we’re both dealing with, we still found time to laugh about random people in the parking lot at Starbucks.

At one point, the conversation turned to writing. I love to write. I haven’t blogged in forever; I told her it was because I was “happy.” I’ve always thought I wrote my best stuff when I was struggling, or drowning. Writing has always challenged me to find my anchor, and to look up. It’s a way I refocus. My friend, however, writes every single day. She journals faithfully, and I was challenged. How can I call myself a writer, if I hide my “happy?” Doesn’t every emotion deserve to be explored? Shouldn’t I celebrate the mountains along with the valleys?

Then I thought about “what does my ‘happy’ look like on paper?” Is it as deep as my ‘struggle?’ Do I feel like it can touch as many lives? Is there a point in writing my random rants at Starbucks?”

Hmmm….

I’m not intentionally funny. I don’t set out to write things that make people laugh, yet I hear “you’re so funny on Facebook!” all the time. I truly wonder what people are laughing at?!?  But, I’m glad they’re enjoying it…

I have gotten back into a habit of filtering what I write just a little too much. I’ve gotten a little bit canned, and a little too conservative. I think I’m going Stepford, and I don’t like it. Maybe it’s because my mother is on Facebook, and I’m afraid of what she’ll say? Maybe it’s because my church friends are on Facebook, and I’ll have to face them on Sunday morning?I don’t know…and you know what? I don’t care.

I’m going to write my thoughts, rants, and possibly offensive blogs. I’m going to write, because the mountains, valleys, and pratfalls all deserve their story. If you find it funny, great. If you find it offensive, I’m sorry. Actually, I’m not. Go read something else. There are plenty of people on Facebook that post things that I find absolutely ridiculous. If I have to read one more post about pseudo-injustice, I’m going to hurl. There are TRUE injustices in this world that deserve our attention, yet people want to stand on soapboxes for the DUMBEST subjects EVER.

My only soapbox is Jesus. That’s it. This is my blog-I’m going to stop being afraid of politics.  I’m going to stop being afraid to say when something has truly angered me, or when I find something truly ridiculous.

The gloves are off—it’s time to get real. This literary Stepford wife has just been shot in the head.

Welcome to my blog.