A Metaphor is Like a Simile

A metaphor is like a simile.

Except, when used in this sentence, the metaphor becomes a simile.
So, if the metaphor IS now a simile, that, in turn, makes the simile a metaphor. Yeah, I know I'm weird, but this makes me laugh.

Hairy Man Legs

What to write about? I could write in response to Sara's overwhelming feelings of motherhood . . . enjoy every precious second, and don't blink or you'll miss it. I am constantly amazed at the speed of life. My firstborn will be a "legal" adult soon, and my baby boy, who has always enjoyed crawling into my lap for a little "mommy-scratch-my-legs" time, now has really hairy "man legs". Makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

I feel so blessed to be a 24/7 mom - a SAHM for 17 years and a "take him to work with me" mom for the last 3. Everybody told me what a difficult time I would have when Kacey left for college - especially hard since I was so used to having her around - and I was somewhat worried they might be right. As it turned out, they weren't. Sure, I miss her. Sure, I wish she was 4-years-old again. Sure, I fantasized about moving into her dorm room with her. But the reality is, I have no regrets about not spending enough time with either of my kids. I haven't missed a thing. I was there for the first steps, the first words, the first crush. I taught them to read, to be responsible, to love each other. We have talked into the wee hours of the morning on hundreds of occasions and now share long, quirky emails (even with Kevin, though he is sitting at the desk next to me. It seems to be so much easier to say things in print than in person, especially with boys.)

Do I miss baby clothes and read-aloud books and snuggling? You betcha. Do I miss diapers and crying and not sleeping? Not even a little bit. Granted, they will never be as cute as they were when they were toddlers, but the time together just gets better and better. Thank you, God.

happy father's day!

For teaching me to love God, for barbequed ribs, for biology
homework help, for carrying me to bed from the car when I was
little and was pretending to be asleep, for always being patient,
for working logic problems with me, for loving to sing, for building
a balsa-wood raft (complete with orange crates) for 7th grade social
studies, for being tender enough to cry, for making emergency
pantyhose runs to the convenience store on Sunday mornings, for
leaving $20 in my Bible when I would come home from college, for
9 days on a bus to Florida as a band chaperone, for canoeing, for
being the best Papa to the kids I could possibly want, for teaching
me to drive, for taking us to dinner a thousand times, for making
church a priority, for giving good advice even when I didn't listen,
for loving me. I love you very much, Dad. Happy Father's Day!

the scarlet letter

I went shopping this morning at my favorite "big girl" store. I always go straight to the back first, 'cause that's where the clearance racks are.

I couldn't help but giggle when I saw a turn-around carrying "Fat Girl Fitness Clothing" tucked away in the back corner! No joke. A true oxymoron if ever there was one.

Anyway, closer to the front of the store, I discovered a cute top - 3/4 sleeves, v-neck, had an all-over design that looked French - coffee cups, Eiffel Tower, fleur-de-lis. "Fun!", I thought, so I pulled it out. Strategically scripted acrss the left chest was the word, "Chocolate." But I just couldn't do it. Obviously, I'm as guilty of loving my pure chocolate as Hester Prynne was of "loving" her Puritan minister, but do I really need to wear the symbol of my plus-sized shame emblazoned across my clothing like a scarlet letter? Methinks not.

girl interrupted

Okay, my alone-time girl night was rudely interrupted by a 30-second thunderstorm and subsequent routinely-expected power outage. So I:
8:10 Scrounge around feeling for a working flashlight.
8:14 Give up hope of ever finding a working flashlight, scrounge around for matches and a candle that still has a wick.
8:19 Light said candle.
8:22 Put ice on finger-burn from lighting too-short jar candle.
8:26 Look up phone number for electric company.
8:31 Go on "blind man's bluff" scavenger hunt for glasses so I can see telephone number to electric company.
8:33 Call electric company and report power outage.
8:34 Press "1", say "yes". Press "2" , punch in phone number. Repeat.
8:42 Attempt to read by candlelight.
8:45 Realize "It was the pest of fines, it was the worms of fines" is probably not the first line of "A Tale of Two Cities" so scrounge around Kevin's bedside looking for booklight, since candlelight is not cutting it with my 40-something eyesight.
8:57 Get distracted and beat on drumset in the dark for five minutes. Hit rims more than heads.
9:03 Call back electric company to check on status of my service - they are aware of problem.
9:11 Remember Kacey left her laptop here!
9:18 Pop "Runaway Bride" into laptop. Watch until Richard Gere gets hair tye-dyed like a clown before screen goes blank and battery dies.
9:34 Wash black tank top in sink and hang in shower to dry.
9:41 Set candle in fridge looking for something to eat.
9:44 Decide to make tea from hot sink water.
9:47 Decide to dump out tea made from hot sink water.
9:48 Call electric company a third time. They report electricity is back on.
9:49 I report it is not.
9:53 Look out windows to see distant neighbors sitting in air-conditioned, brightly-lit rooms watching end of "Minority Report" on ABC.
10:00 Call mom so somebody will know I'm sitting alone in the dark and feel sorry for me.
10:15 Clean out purse
10:23 Carry candle outside to light way to car.
10:24 Drive to office, noting the rest of my neighborhood is lit up like a holiday movie starring Chevy Chase.
10:35 Review middle school Bible lesson for tomorrow.
10: 50 Call electric company a fourth time. They report "a crew is currently on site attempting to restore power." Sure.
10:58 Blog and whine.
11:15 Check email and eBay auctions.
11: 30 Edit whiny blog.
11:37 Go back home and hope power is on so I can go to bed.

ice skating with the devil

Back in January, the cowboy made room in our 24x28 garage for me to park the car. We've lived in this house 12 years and this is a first. Now, I never minded NOT parking in the garage, but it sure is nice when the temperature is in single digits, or I've got a trunk full of groceries to haul inside. My point being, now that I can park my car in the garage, I have no need to go outside. Not even a desire really. In the winter it's too cold. Or too windy. In the summer there are bugs, and weeds that need to be pulled . . . not to mention the "odeur de equine" when the wind blows northwest from the barn. I'm just an indoorsy girl at heart. Give me a bookstore or a museum and I'm happy as . . . well, as an girl in a bookstore or museum!

My husband, on the other hand, spends almost every waking not-at-work minute outside. He comes in the house after dark to eat and sleep. If he's not working with his horses, he is cutting down trees, or disking up fields, or hauling hay, or chopping firewood, or . . . you name it.

So, he comes in from the mailbox the other day, the latest edition of "Saddle Boy" magazine in hand, proclaiming, "I have found a place for us to go on vacation!"

I glance at him skeptically over the top rim of my reading glasses. One, because we never go on vacation, and two, because we never agree on anything, much less recreation.

"No, I'm serious," he assures me.

I'm in a good mood, so I bite.

He proceeds to describe what, to me, has the vacation appeal of Yemen and ranks right above Chinese Water Torture on the fun-o-meter: a working dude ranch. Now, I've seen "City Slickers", thank you very much, and there ends the extent of my interest in Big Sky Country and, for that matter, Jack Palance's acting career.

So, once again I glance at him over the top rim of my glasses. This time with less skepticism and more sarcasm, "Are you kidding?"

He then conveys all the perks: You get to work with horses, cut down trees, disk up fields, haul hay, chop firewood, and, if you're lucky enough to have double-X chromosomes, you also get to help fix the chow! And, let us not forget - YOU get to pay THEM for the experience! The cowboy cannot seem to grasp the concept that THIS IS NOT A VACATION. Not for a sane person. But to him it sounds like heaven. To me it sounds distinctly like something I plan to do right after I go ice-skating with satan . . .

i miss my bathroom

The good news: My daughter is home for the summer!
Probably the last one ever, as she graduates college next spring.

The bad news: I have completely lost control of the one and only bathroom in our house. I would like to say that, just because she's prettier, this should not entitle her to more mirror time. Quite the contrary, I should think. I have to work much longer just to achieve the basic goal of not looking like Shrek, while she rolls out of bed, throws on jeans and mascara and looks adorable.

I really do miss my bathroom. Even more, I miss my 20's . . .

happy mother's day!

I remember waking every morning to mom’s ear-piercing verbal rendition of “Reveille” (the military’s morning bugle call) while she sprung the window shades open. "Rise & Shine" she'd say!

I remember toast for breakfast – the cinnamon or cheese variety, of course.

I remember Bible stories she read every night before scratching my back, tucking me into bed, and reminding me to say my prayers.

I remember, regardless of weather or time restraints, posing for annual Easter pictures. (Weren't the 80's just the greatest decade for hair?)

I remember hot chocolate on snow days - the kind you cook on the stove with real milk.

I remember mom always pretending to be fooled when I faked sick so I could stay home from school.

I remember her reading the “Little House on the Prairie” books aloud so many times I could quote them.

In my head I can still vividly hear the words she yelled each and every morning as I left for school, “Have a good day and DON’T KISS ANY BOYS!!!!!”

I remember playing games together in the afternoons – but ONLY after homework was finished.

I remember mom’s groans through countless reruns of Gilligan’s Island. (In retrospect, the groans were warranted.)

I remember her being my Girl Scout troop leader, room mother, band booster, Sunday School teacher.

I sing "Rise & Shine" to my children in the mornings. I have read the "Little House" books aloud to my kids at least 4 times. I make my kids pose for Easter pictures. And, although I opt for the Swiss Miss microwavable hot chocolate, I have, for all practical purposes, become my mother. She shaped who I am. When I hear myself speak or see my reflection, there is no doubt I belong to her.

I love you, MOM! Happy Mother's Day!

monogamy (in a handbag)

For the last three years I have been in a serious monogamous relationship . . . with my purse. I have carried this faux-leather sensible black handbag (with a frivolous lime-green lining) through better or worse, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, forsaking all others and remaining completely faithful to my beloved handbag “until death do us part.”

We are very much alike, this handbag and I: practical, oversized, generally organized, and a bit whimsical (reference the lime-green lining). We have, for all practical purposes, been inseparable.

Regrettably, my $30 pleather partner had a lifespan rivaling the career of an American Idol winner or the shelf-life of an incandescent lightbulb. “Until death do us part” turned out to be about 32 months, thus I found myself in mourning.

After her untimely demise, I must admit to a brief rebound relationship with a cute little buckle-bag, but at only 5” tall, it turned out to be much too shallow for any kind of meaningful relationship. I’m ashamed to also admit to a lust-based one-night-stand with a metallic copper number. However, it proved to be nothing more than a vacuous tote, a hollow single-compartment chasm in which I could find nothing.

My grieving phase has ended, I’m happy to announce. I am once again in LOVE. My new purse is practical – large enough to hold my slimline NIV, but small enough to fit in the console between the front seats of my car. It is designed for organization – 3 compartments (with magnetic snaps!) eyeglass pouch, and small interior zippered pocket. Mostly, my new bag is a bit whimsical – black and white polka dots and stripes. It’s nearly perfect . . .

I'm sure I could draw some sort of spiritual analogy here about how we were all created for a specific purpose, or about the wisdom of choosing good friends, or about the how our physical bodies are just transient, but, after all . . . it’s just a purse.

100 Things Nobody Really Needs to Know About Me

1. I am a Jill of many trades: involvement ministry, children's ministry, childbirth educator, piano teacher, homeschool mom, doula, community volunteer, writer, etc.
2. God has blessed me with two children, Kacey & Kevin, who are my world.
3. Naming my children was merely a formality. I only call them things like, “Sweet Cheeks; Honey Buns; Love Britches; Sugar Toot; Daughter-Face; Boy Junior; Little Man; etc.”
4. My parents are wonderful. . . I have my dad's brain and my mom's mouth. :o)
5. My younger sister, Stacey Leigh, was my best girlfriend and only sibling. She died in a car crash when she was 28. I cannot think of her without crying. I cannot wait to see her again. My daughter, Kacey Leigh, is named after her and sometimes looks very much like her.
6. I give my kids points for using big words or answering trivia questions. When they can prove they've earned 1,000,000 points, I will by them a car.
7. I tend to call people by their full names, or, if that doesn’t work, their first & middle names.
8. I don’t collect anything. In fact, I don’t keep anything. If it hasn’t been used in the last few weeks, it’s outta here! (Except for leftovers, which usually grow green fuzz before getting tossed.)
9. I have moved 24 times – Memphis; Tulsa; Longview TX; Mobile AL; Nashville; & Anchorage are among the list – though I was born in Kentucky, moved away, came back to graduate High School, moved away again, & now live back here. Full circle.
10. If I could live anywhere, it would be somewhere on the coast. Oregon, maybe.
11. I HATE to read instructions. I am totally dependent on my 14-year-old son to program the dvd recorder, replace the ink cartridge in my printer, and un-jam the copy machine.
12. I have “a thing” for guys in glasses.
13. I have "a thing" for Scottish accents.
14. I am oblivious to vehicles. If my life depended on it, I couldn’t tell you what anybody around me drives.
15. I have read through the entire series of “Little House on the Prairie” books 7 or 8 times.
16. I love to analyze people and try to figure out why they are all so much more difficult than I am.
17. I love email and texting!
18. I HATE talking on the phone. HATE.
19. I am terrible about keeping up with old friends (reference #18) But I really, really, really miss my best Anchorage friends, Neal & Sherri, who still live in Alaska.
20. We do not have cable or internet (at home). Upon discovering this, one of Kacey’s boyfriends asked her if we were Amish. True story.
21. No matter where I am, my husband will always track me down. I’ve decided to think of it as endearing rather than controlling.
22. My long-term memory is amazing. My short-term memory is . . . what was I talking about? 23. I was blessed to be a stay-at-home, homeschool mom for most of 17 years - it was the best.
24. My birthday is October 24th. So every day, (yeah, pretty much every day) when we notice 10:24 on the clock I yell, “It’s ten-twenty-four!” My children sing this goofy little birthday song to me. It’s required.
25. Now that I'm "over 40", I am reluctantly codependent on my reading glasses.
26. I am completely and happily committed to my purse.
27. I never remember to shop for baby showers. Inevitably, I will shop ½ hour before the shower, buying wrapping paper, tape and bows and doing the gift-wrapping in the parking lot. I will ALWAYS forget to buy a tag or card, so during the shower I’m yelling, “That’s from me!” Why do I do this?
28. I love thunderstorms and snow and autumn.
29. If you know who Lynne Truss, Amy Sherman-Palladino, and Nora Ephron are, we are probably already good friends.
30. One can never have too many cool, clicky ink pens.
31. I am the least sympathetic mother I know. Even if it’s a fairly serious illness/injury I take the “oh, suck it up and stop your whining” approach. That’s my way of coping when I’m not able to “fix it”, but that doesn’t comfort my children when they are bleeding or tossing their cookies. However, I am immensely sympathetic to those outside my family. ???
32. I have book A.D.D. - I can have as many as 7 books going at one time and rarely finish any of them.
33. I have worn the same pair of black leather, rabbit-lined gloves for the last 21 winters. My mom sent them to me when I first moved to Alaska. I love them.
34. The concept of the 18-hour bra baffles me. What happens if you wear it 19 hours?
35. I love road trips, but I prefer to be the driver. I think it’s a control thing.
36. In High School, I was the yearbook editor, newspaper editor, speech club vice president, and student director of the band.
37. Disney World really is the happiest place on earth.
38. I could be very happy living in an apartment permanently – I like the small spaces, the sense of community, and the wonderful lack of yard work.
39. I want an iPod really badly.
40. Drawing house plans is my preferred multi-tasking project while I watch tv.
41. My favorite food is pasta.
42. I have a passion for literature, and I’m especially fond of children’s literature. I have read “Goodnight Moon” and “Where the Wild Things Are” a minimum of 1500 times each. (2 kids X every night for 2 years = well, you do the math.)
43. Jane Eyre is my favorite novel, I've read it four times.
44. I frequently break into song for no apparent reason.
45. Yes, I have had my heart broken. Wouldn't wish that pain on my worst enemy. If I had one. Which I don't.
46. I had straight A’s in high school except for the "A" subjects: Algebra & Art. Go figure.
47. On Sunday afternoons, I used to always nap. Now it seems all we have are what I call "Marathon Sundays". Whatever happened to the concept of sabbath?
48. I am a consummate pest and thoroughly enjoy embarrassing my kids.
49. Every night, after Kevin goes to bed, I flip the light on in his room (well, actually it’s his sister’s room ‘cause that’s where he’s sleeping since she left for college). Anyway. . . I flip the light on just long enough for the glow-in-the-dark ceiling stars to shine. Then I flip the light back off and say “PWETTY Stars”. Every night.
50. I’m convinced that Ephesians 6:4a does NOT apply to mothers. Look it up.
51. I bite my cuticles. A lot.
52. I started dating my husband after he broke into my dorm room, trashed it, and blamed it on someone else. What was I thinking???
53. My son said I’m the nicest person he knows. And he said it with a straight face. I think that must mean he doesn’t know very many people.
54. I spend a lot of time in the car.
55. I would like to learn sign language.
56. I love dark chocolate, hot tea, popcorn, cranberry-walnut bread, seafood anything, & almond biscotti.
57. I love trying new restaurants and new food - especially Asian food.
58. I have been a certified childbirth educator and doula. I have been blessed to be part of several births. I missed my calling as a midwife/obstetrician.
59. My second child was born at home. Yes, on purpose.
60. I really like toddlers and teens, but I am not a fan of other people’s babies. Go figure.
61. I did the whole “Earth Mother” thing for about a decade – complete breastfeeding, organic foods, recyclable products, homeschooling, etc. In fact, I nursed Kevin until he could unbutton things on his own, and began homeschooling Kacey back when people asked, “Is that LEGAL?” My family used to ask me when I "got weird".
62. I used to play the piano and was 1st chair clarinet in band for 6 out of 8 years.
63. When I was a Brownie Girl Scout in Nashville, I had to kiss the governor of Tennessee for a newspaper photo op. I was mortified.
64. I never get tired of listening to Carole King, Simon & Garfunkel, Eric Clapton, James Taylor, Elton John, and Carly Simon. I am such a child of the 70’s.
65. I’m a compulsive multi-tasker.
66. Kevin is teaching me to play chess. It’s really hard to multi-task while playing chess.
67. I was voted “Outstanding Citizen” by my senior class. All that means is I wasn’t “Most Talented”, “Most Likely to Succeed”, or “Best Looking”.
68. I always clean the kitchen and start a load of laundry before I go to bed.
69. I rarely make my bed. Seems like such an exercise in futility.
70. I love to play games (except Monopoly!), and I especially like to play cards with friends.
71. I especially-especially like to play “Scene It, Shout About the Movies, and Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon” with Kacey.
72. I work logic problems for fun.
73. Sometimes I feel an overwhelming urge to bite someone. Anyone. I don’t know why.
74. I’m irresistibly drawn to organizers and storage containers of all shapes and sizes. To quote Jerry McGuire, they "complete me".
75. I don't enjoy being at home nearly as much as I used to.
76. I LOVE my jobs.
77. When I grow up, I hope to find something productive to do with myself.
78. I’m love my traditional Church of Christ background, and, even more, I loved breaking out of it.
79. The treadmill in my bedroom makes a great clothes rack.
80. When I was in junior high, I kept scrapbooks on Shaun Cassidy, Barry Manilow and the Bay City Rollers.
81. Clearly, I don’t embarrass easily.
82. Sarcasm rules, and I am the reigning queen.
83. I get really excited when I watch a film with good editing.
84. I am a complete videophile, but I only like watching a movie with someone else who enjoys it, or someone who has never seen it but I think will enjoy it. Watching movies alone doesn’t work for me. I’d rather read or browse the internet.
85. I wish I’d had more children.
86. I dream that one day the bathroom project that began in 1995 will actually be completed. Mind you, it’s only a dream.
87. I explained the “birds and the bees” to my daughter when she was 5 - at her request.
88. Tomatoes are vegetables not fruit, I don’t care what they say. Fruit tastes GOOD.
89. My husband and I have absolutely NOTHING in common. We’re like Eddie Albert & Eva Gabor. But with WAY less jewelry. Welcome to Green Acres.
90. My favorite shoes are: NONE. I like my bare feet.
91. Scrapbooking is my creative outlet. Plus, cropping is very therapeutic. Especially if you crop off the heads of people you don’t like.
92. I love jazz bands, Broadway musicals, Drum Corps competitions, and symphonies.
93. I graduated from the University of Alaska, with a journalism major and photography minor. 94. I can’t tell (or remember) a joke to save my life.
95. If there is a contest drawing or a door prize, my name will usually be the one drawn. I’m just lucky that way.
96. I could live in a Borders or Barnes & Noble bookstore. Though, after a couple of days, I might miss showering.
97. I do not understand the concept of indoor pets. They smell, shed, cost money, chew, pass gas, and bark. But, come to think of it, so do boys.
98. Tulips, all colors, are my favorite flowers.
99. According to Stanford-Binet, my IQ is 152. But, then, they don’t know that sometimes I’ll wear my shirt inside-out all day and never notice.
100. My favorite scripture is Philippians 2:5-15. After writing 100 things, I still know: It’s not about me.