I love hanging out with my family.  

Dad: “Click on QuickBooks and let’s grab a cup of coffee.”  (QuickTrip)

Mom: “You need to take them out of the plastic to thaw.”  Me: “You mean…all the way naked?”  (I’d never make it in med school, clearly)

Brianna: “Why are they called Cornish Hens?” Me: “Because they originated in Cornwall, Massachusetts.”  Dad: “Because they eat corn?”  Me: “Because they were bred by General Cornwallis.” Thomas: “You are so full of it.”  (We’ve never been a turkey eating family).

Me: “I just don’t like thinking about eating anything that was ever alive.”  Dad: “Well, I’m surprised you’re still alive.  Rocks don’t have much nutritional value.”

Mom: “You’re wearing an apron!  How domestic of you! I should take a picture!” 

Me: “Truss? I don’t know how to truss these things.  I don’t even know what truss means.” *exit stage right* Grandma: “Where did Carolyn go?”  Thomas: “To look up cooking terms on dictionary.com.”  Grandma: *laughter* “I’ll go get some string.” 

Thomas: “Truss is actually an architectural term.” 

Brianna:  ”Stop!  You’re salting it to a crisp!”

Thomas: (looking through black friday ads) “I’m thankful for all the Christmas presents I’m going to get.” 

Me: “Now it says to bust them.”  Mom: “Baste ”  Me:  ”Yes. We need to baste the bird busts with butter.”  

Dad: “Is there only one pumpkin pie?”  Mom: “Yes.”  Dad: (three minutes later) “Oooh…. ice cream tastes pretty good on sweet potato casserole.”

These are probably not funny to anyone but me.  I just had to archive them.

dearest thought
how well you weave your way through my mind
but you melt through my nicely crafted box
of things i have saved
in picture or word

come take shape
i wish you would just walk by my side
on a leather leash of quotation marks
neatly engraved
with my initials

a line of ink
to draw breathing, melodic sunlight
sealing heartbeats in a gilded jar
creating to crave
holding in part

Ode to Rebellious Jazzy

there was a little dog
with coat as white as fog
who liked to eat garbage and plastic
when she was sleeping she was very very good
but awake, horrid and iconoclastic

I just spent 20 minutes chasing a wet dog around the neighborhood, wearing shorts, an ugly yellow t-shirt, and bright blue flip-flops.  I met three new neighbors.  I am so happy.

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So, I’m doing one of my comedic monologues for an arts benefit next Monday night.  I kind of forgot that they also want me to sing a few songs.  It’s a women’s event… based around my monologue “Five Inch Heels.”  Scary!  I’m actually really looking forward to it, but I have no idea what kind of songs go with this sort of event. 

Songs!  I need good songs to sing.  Lightweight topically, in my vocal range, as interesting as Regina Spektor without being as complex pitch-wise, and preferably simple enough that I can accompany myself on the piano.  ha. 

So far my options are:

• “One of Those Days” or “Charmed Life” by Joy Williams
• “Taylor the Latte Boy”-Kristen Chenoweth
• “Fallin for You” – Colbie Caillat

Also, I have no chords as of yet for the above songs.  

Songs about shoes would be fun, but all I can think of are “Blue Suede Shoes,” “Walkin’ in Memphis” (which makes no sense for me to sing), and “These Boots were made for Walking.”  

Broadway miiight be fun.  Or just broadway style singers…maybe a song each from Kristin Chenoweth, Audra McDonald, and Idina Menzel?

My own songs are probably too melancholy (’cause that’s how I roll).  

Suggestions? Opinions on the above songs?  I appreciate all the help I can get from my massive blog readership (haha… I miss facebook). Help!  I have to e-mail my set today!

<3

What is wrong with these people?  Really?!  Makes me so mad I’m typing in sentence fragments even more than usual. 

Churches Denounce African Children as “witches”

I can’t believe the way these pastors are twisting the Bible. The girl is a witch because she likes to sleep outside? 1693 Puritans… hello? This is even beyond the absurd frenzy of the Salem saga.  Brutality against the defenseless in the name of Jesus is absolutely horrifying.  I’ll bet He’s way more angry about it than I am.  Helen Ukpabio, I feel sorry for you. 

I’m glad I believe in a final day of justice.  This world is so screwed up.  

Matthew 18.  The one who humbles himself like a child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

As I was mindlessly surfing internetland today (yahoo to twitter to blogs), I came across this video.  Ouch!  Even without facebook right now, I can still waste so much time online.  I love this clip, though.  Josh Harris has a way of preaching a really convicting message while managing to be hilarious about it.

Also, I listened to this song really closely today for the first time.   Josh Wilson is incredible.

Yeah… so… I think I’m closing this browser window right about now.

Um… yes?  Hey… that’s me, right here.  So what do I do about it?

Well, “if any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That man should not think he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all he does.”

Cool.  Hey, Mr. James.

“Yeah”

Can I personalize this a little.  ‘Cause, it says “he” and “him” a lot.

“Sure. I was using a generally inclusive pronoun”

Thanks.  Just checking.  So… I guess this means I don’t have to live in a swirl of mental confusion?

“Exactly. God desires that you have a focused life…clarity and trust.”

Yeah… pretty sure I desire that too.

“Look to Christ. Get rid of earthly wisdom. Put your faith in Him…not only to receive answers, but because He is the answer.  “

How do I know if I’m hearing the right stuff?  How do I know I’m not making it up to please my own desires?

“1. The Holy Spirit won’t lead you toward sin of any kind. God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does he tempt anyone.

2. …the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere.”

Hmm… ok.  Thanks, James.

“Keep reading. There’s a lot more you need to understand about watching your tongue and caring for widows and orphans.  Not to mention the really important bit about humility.”

I love the book of James.  Good conversation this morning over the tattered pages.

A charm invests a face
Imperfectly beheld—
The lady dare not lift her veil
For fear it be dispelled

But peers beyond her mesh
And wishes—and denies—
Lest interview annul a want
That image satisfies

-Emily Dickinson

Hmmm…

‘I should like to paint this.’ said the Ghost. ‘I wouldn’t bother about that just at present if I were you.’ replied the Spirit. ‘Look here, isn’t one going to be allowed to go on painting?’ ‘Looking comes first.’ ‘But I’ve had my look. I’ve seen just what I want to do. God!–I wish I’d thought of bringing my things with me!’ The Spirit shook his head scattering light from his hair as he did so. ‘That sort of thing’s no good here,’ he said. ‘What do you mean?’ said the Ghost. ‘When you painted on earth–at least in your earlier days–it was because you caught glimpses of Heaven in the earthly landscape. The success of your painting was that it enabled others to see the glimpses too. But here you are having the thing itself. It is from here that the messages came. There is no good telling us about this country, for we see it already. In fact, we see it better than you do.’

‘Then there’s never going to be any point in painting here?’ ‘I don’t say that. When you’ve grown into a Person (it’s all right, we all had to do it) there’ll be some things which you’ll see better than anyone else. One of the things you’ll want to do will be to tell us about them. But not yet. At present your business is to see. Come and see. He is endless. Come and feed.’ There was a little pause. ‘That will be delightful,’ said the Ghost presently in a rather dull voice. ‘Come then’ said the Spirit offering it his arm. ‘How soon do you think I could begin painting?’ it asked. The Spirit broke into laughter. ‘Don’t you see you’ll never paint at all if that’s what you’re thinking about?’ he said. ‘What do you mean?’ asked the Ghost. ‘Why, if you are interested in the country only for the sake of painting it, you’ll never learn to see the country.’ ‘But that’s just how a real artist is interested in the country.’ ‘No. You’re forgetting,’ said the Spirit. ‘That was not how you began. Light itself was your first love: you loved paint only as a means of telling about light.’

‘Oh, that’s ages ago,’ said the Ghost. ‘One grows out of that. Of course, you haven’t seen my later works. One becomes more and more interested in paint for its own sake.’ ‘One does, indeed. I also have had to recover from that. It was all a snare. Ink and catgut and paint were necessary down there, but they are also dangerous stimulants. Every poet and musician and artist, but for Grace, is drawn away from love of the thing he tells, to love of the telling till, down in Deep Hell, they cannot be interested in God at all but only in what they say about Him. For it doesn’t stop at being interested in paint, you know. They sink lower–become interested in their own personalities and then in nothing but their own reputations.’ ‘I don’t think I’m much troubled in that way,’ said the Ghost stiffly. ‘That’s excellent,’ said the Spirit. ‘Not many of us had quite got over it when we first arrived. But if there is any of that inflammation left it will be cured when you come to the fountain.’ ‘What fountain’s that?’ ‘It is up there in the mountains,’ said the Spirit. ‘Very cold and clear, between two green hills. A little like Lethe. When you have drunk of it you forget forever all proprietorship in your own works. You enjoy them just as if they were someone else’s: without pride and without modesty.’

The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis