Tongue Tied

These lyrics have been on my mind a lot over the past few days: Atheism is the wedge under the foundation of our faith Trying to topple our relationship with Christ When the fool says in his heart 'There is no God' He rejects the truth God painted on the canvas of the night. Atheism has never created an artistic masterpiece, Never healed a fatal disease or calmed a fear. Atheism has never still given answers to our existence, Peace to a troubled mind, or even dried a tear. For it's GOD Who created heaven and earth And flung the stars in space And breathed in the handful of dirt that became a man. It's GOD Who sits on the circle of the earth And measures the mountains in a scale And holds the seven seas in the palm of His hand. It's GOD Who sent His only begotten Son to the cross of Calvary To save our souls from Hell and the grave. It's GOD Who creates, GOD Who delivers, GOD Who heals And GOD Who is worthy of a thundrous ovation of praise!"

Slowly, very, very slowly, we are re-doing each room in our little old house. When we bought our little 1940's bungalow seven years ago, it was habitable, and while not the ugliest decor we had seen it certainly wasn't my taste. And I didn't even know what my taste was. I'm still not sure, because as soon as I figure it out, it changes. At first, I wanted everything tan and red. It took me many paint jobs to find the "right tan" (I think it was called "Dune"). Dune went everywhere. Walls and trim in the kitchen and living room. And I added a dark red wall in the kitchen and cranberry colored curtains in the living room. Well, after a few years of "Dune", I got bored with it. And the red. Everything was just too dark. So, I painted again. Paint, I am quickly learning, is the poor decorator's best friend. I will (and have) painted just about anything. Being the wise person that I am, I knew I'd probably change my mind about acce...

My dear son, whom we affectionately refer to as "Thing Two", has entered that beautiful stage of life where one leaves behind the adorable sweetness of babyhood and enters a world that I am convinced inspired the movie "The Exorcist". He is my second son, so one would THINK that I was prepared for this stage. My firstborn, (Thing One), was by no means a treat at this age. He inherited his mother's stubborn streak and his father's sensitive streak, so you can imagine how delightful he was at two. But this one, he tricked me. He stayed in his "sweet baby" stage much longer than his elder brother did. He turned two without throwing tantrums, yelling "NO!" in my face, or launching toys into the air forcing parental units to always keep their hands up in self defense. I naively thought that perhaps Thing Two was just an easier child than his counterpart, and I wouldn't have to face those long months of emotional turmoil (my own and his). Y...

I've decided I'm going to blog more. Aren't you excited? Maybe I could even become a "blogger", ya know, the kind that has daily updates, and photoshopped photos, and ads and a million followers like Ree Drummond. Nevermind that I can't even get my dishes done daily. There are serious things going on in my head that I MUST SHARE or it will be the death of me. Like today, I was shopping, and I kid you not, I had a blog post running in my head about what I was doing. Is this a sign of mental illness? Please tell me I'm not the only writer who "writes" about stupid things in her head all day. A lot of times, these brilliant essays never get written down, let alone posted, and that is such a shame. Technology has afforded our society a way to record every mundane thought we have, and it's a travesty that I'm not taking advantage of that. So this is my announcement (warning?) to the three people who read my blog to get ready for some serious b...

One of my earliest memories is of my Grandmother. I must have been about two years old. I remember waking up in the crib in her spare bedroom (the piano room) and calling for my mom. Grandma came. I remember the sweet tone of her words, the smell of her perfume and the happiness I felt as she lifted me out of the crib. Going to Grandma and Grandpa's house was always something I looked forward to. It was never a perfunctory visit. My sisters and I eagerly anticipated pulling into the driveway of the little red house on Southport Road. Grandpa would be out in the yard or barn, tinkering with an old car or mower or playing basketball. Grandma would be in the kitchen awaiting our arrival. I'll admit, as a child, my love for Grandma was "encouraged" by her spoiling. As soon as we got through the door she'd be smothering us with hugs and insisting we turn on cartoons and eat ice cream. Oh, the food. As an adult, I probably wouldn't like it as much as I did then. Gra...

I've dissected my reading into a handy, inspired-by-the-government's-food-pyramid pyramid. Because I'm weird. And I like to make lists. And I like to do book reports. However, I don't have a pyramid graphic. So you'll have to use your imagination. Grains: These are the things I read to keep my interest in reading alive--things that are easily consumed and interesting, like blogs, facebook notes, wikipedia articles, and fanfiction. Grainy Faves: thepionoeerwoman.com, gossamer.org (beware: only geeks who like X-Files go here), kazooisms.blogspot.com, Mandy's blog, Jenny's blog, Dad's site, and Marissa's blog. Vegetables: These are the things I have to read, whether I like it or not. They are generally good for me, but a little bitter going down. These include bills, bank statements, insurance policies, and 'Your Books Are About To Be Due' e-mails from the library. I would also include non-fiction in this category, although there are some t...