Jake: “Hey man, Nikki and I aren’t gonna make it tonight. The Icelandic volcano has effed up our concert plans, and Avery has a ball game, so, we’re just gonna stay home.”
Our Irish/Lebanese-American friend: “Dude…did you just pull the ‘volcano’ card, to ditch me?”
Jake: “Yeah…I think I just did.”
I’m pretty sure that card can only be used…like once, in a life time. I’ll have to read the fine print.
Bands from Scotland are cool.
Especially this one…
Volcanoes, blowing ash up into the sky, between here and Scotland, impeding air travel for said cool band? Not cool!
We’ve been wanting to see this band for about a year now. We were in Austin at ACL, when they were in Dallas, last fall. In March, at SXSW, we were close. We were at a different show, and couldn’t get across town in time to see them at another venue.
We were stoked that they were booked here in Dallas, and my friend hooked us up with tickets. Alas, that damn Icelandic volcano erupted, and the band can’t get here in time for tonight’s show.
Soooo NOT cool!
Creepy, Porn-stache guy…
This is who I picture, when I look at my husband…
Hot, right?
I don’t think so, either!
Actions speak louder than words, and the return of the creepy ‘stache, screams…
“I HATE SEX! I GREW THIS ‘STACHE, TO REPULSE MY WIFE, SO THAT SHE WILL NO LONGER ALLOW ME NEAR HER!”
Well, that’s what I hear it screaming.
I bet, to Ginger Lynn, it screams, “BOW-CHICKA-WOW-WOW!”
1. I never remember when picture day is, despite those cute little stickers that they send home as a reminder, and inevitably, my kids end up wearing a “2006 Donnie Worthington Pedal Car” t-shirt on the day that pictures are taken!
*I don’t know who Donnie Worthington is, or, where this t-shirt came from, and as far as I can remember, my kids have never seen a pedal car race! We lose socks in our house, and gain random t-shirts…that we end up wearing on picture day!*
2. What kind of background is that, exactly? Lasers would’ve been waaaaay cooler!
3. Don’t they usually issue a comb, or something, for the kids, for a quick run through of the hair?? I should complain! My kid DEFINITELY did not get a free comb, to primp before the pics!
*Wait…maybe he DID get a free comb, and this is the “after” shot! Damn…I can’t imagine what he looked like BEFORE he combed his hair!*
On religion. And prayer.
I'm just gonna go ahead and go here, because I kind of need to vent, a little.
I'll apologize in advance, to whomever I may offend, and to my mother, for publicly professing my disbelief in her deity, of choice. I know she is ridiculously ashamed that she has raised a heathen child, bound for hell.
I was talking to a mom of one of Lily's friends yesterday, at school. She said that she'd heard I was going to nursing school, and we were chit chatting about it. We got on the subject of blood and guts, and mortality, and the reason I wanted to become a nurse, and I mentioned my first born. I did it as casually, and as briefly as I could, in order to lessen the impact of the unavoidable awkwardness.
My efforts, per usual, were futile.
I could see the shock and awe on her face, and she followed suit with the, "I'm so sorry's," "I can't imagine's," and the, "It must've been so hard's," that are the centerpiece of almost all of the conversations that I have about my son.
The talk of hospitals reminded her of the time when her daughter almost got the tip of her finger cut off in a freak accident. Miraculously, and leaving the doctors dumbfounded, her finger was sewn back together, and was 100% fine. No damage, whatsoever. I marveled at the "miracle," that she described, and just as she started to say, "Yes, it was amazing, we were so lucky," she stopped herself, and said...
"No...I'll tell you what saved her finger. We started praying. It was those prayers we said, and that alone, that saved her finger."
There was a moment of awkwardness, where a good, fellow Christian, would've said, "Oh, YES! Amen! AmenAmenAmen, Sister. Praise be to God and Hallelujah!" I'm not. So...I didn't.
Instead, I wondered if she could see the shock and awe on my face.
I wondered if she realized the low blow, she'd just delivered.
I had just told this woman, that my boy had a double organ transplant, and died. She proceeded to tell me, that her daughter almost lost the tip of her finger (I know, I know, the tip is the best part!), but, because of all that praying she did...the tip was fine!
If I were a Christian, what does that say about my boy? Actually, I did consider myself one at the time of his death.
That we didn't pray hard enough? That not enough people had prayed? That SHE hadn't prayed? What exactly...does that mean? What does that insinuate?
I do not understand Christians armed with good intentions, saying things like, "It was God's will." It was God's will that my baby died? He willed an innocent child to death? For what? So that someone else could learn something? That's pretty shitty!!
Or, "We are so blessed. God chose to heal our child." Really? Well, he's an ass, then, because that means he chose NOT to heal mine. If we're all God's children, then, in regard to the healing of my boy, I must be the red-headed step child!!
I don't understand that, about Christianity, and don't know if I ever will.
How does one reconcile that in their heads? How does this Christian woman, tell the mother of a dead baby, that because she and her friends prayed...her daughter's FINGER-FUCKING-TIP, is fine?!?
I imagine it's something, like this..."Oh...I'm sure picking out that tiny little casket for your kid sucked, but, look here at the tip of my daughter's finger! Look how Jesus, and Jesus alone, has given her 10 fingernails to paint, instead of an unsightly nine!! I shudder at the thought of only nine painted nails."
*Seriously, no offense to any nine-fingered people out there. I'm sure it's rough losing one of your digits, and I don't mean to discount that! For your sake, I hope you still have "tall man!" He's my favorite!*
I'm totally being a smartass...
Having said all this...I'm not bitter, or angry, or jealous that "God" didn't save my boy. I'm really not. I've said before that I'm thankful to whomever, for that experience, and the perspective that I have.
However, it is this perspective that causes the ruffling of my feathers, over instances like this one. With all the suffering in the world (again, I'm not talking about me, here...my suffering is minuscule/non-existent compared to that, of others.), why would God answer prayers over tips of fingers? Even the prayers lifted up over my son? How does our "heavenly father" decide, which of his children to heal, and which one to allow to suffer?
If God is capable of answering all the prayers...but, doesn't. Then, why does he answer any of the prayers?
In my opinion, he doesn't. Simple as that.
My baby cousin is getting married.
I took her engagement pictures this weekend. As I was going through them, one by one, and editing them…I got a little verklempt.
As I flipped through these pics…
of my gorgeous cousin, her handsome man…and the love between them…
I couldn’t help, but picture this…
Me, holding that baby girl for the first time. My aunt had to kick the nine year old me out of her hospital room the night my cousin and her twin sister were born, because visiting hours were over, but, I wouldn’t put her down!
*Not a word about the mullet!!! This is a sentimental post about my baby cousin…NOT about my rad…”way radder than Billy Ray, any day” hair!!*
This baby girl (on the right)…
who, in my mind, should still be toddling around, with her paci and her “Puff." In no way, should she be a grown ass woman…about to get married!
Alas…she is, which translates to…I’M OLD!
