for the love

My baby nephew is 3 today... Problem: I have been unable to locate the 'stop growing' button. Has anyone else found one on any of theirs? Good news is he's still cute. Happy Birthday Boo! love, Money

One of the the most influential people I met during my trip to Panama was Big Sarge. He was one of our translators, a native to Panama, and as his name suggests, a former Sargent in the Panamanian military. On the first morning of our trip, Big Sarge came up to our breakfast table and told us a story about some of the more 'traditional' Panamanian tribes. He told us how the culture of the female tribe members was such that they did not wear 'anything up here' (as he motioned over his chest). One of my favorite quotes of the entire trip came from this man, and it goes a little something like this, "when the ladies go a-walkin', their breast go a-knockin'... if you are hot (because it is ALWAYS hot in Panama), they will fan you!" And then he did a little shimmy dance, and walked away. Oh yes, yes he did. Big Sarge had a lot of funny stories and insights into Panamanian culture, but there is one thing that has stuck with me above and beyond his impression

T his is My body broken for them. I will be broken so they may be whole. This is My blood poured out to cover them. In the place of their sin, may He see His Son.

Last Monday at work we got a collective and non-directed-at-any-one-person-because-we-don't-want-to-call-anyone-out hand slap. A couple of our computers had contracted a virus and the company now feels compelled to begin blocking certain sites in order to prevent more severe like-occurrences. One of our sales guys is in charge of the IT decisions. What can I say, we're all about cross-training. So he says in our Monday morning staff meeting..."we've had some people going on some of the sites that are out there like Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo... and Myface." I inadvertently laughed out loud. Yet, he didn't skip a beat, and he didn't even crack a smile. He was serious. It was cute. I just wonder if they're also going to block Spacebook...

It's official. My super-sweet Canon 30D is no longer cutting edge, state of the art, newest phat cat in town. This is. I knew it was going to happen. I knew it would happen in September. And I'm really not one to have to have the newest and the best of anything... ..but it was fun while it lasted. Don't get me wrong. In the six months that I've had my camera, we have bonded as only photographer and camera can . I still heart this digital wonder, and I always will. *sigh* aaaannnndd......I'm over it. Onward.

I had an unusual and unexplained attack of the bowels last night. Let me start a little further back. Last weekend I spent a material amount of money on bedroom furniture for my new house. It was fun, but the excitement wained as I was informed I will not see said bought furniture until mid-November. Bleh. I am currently engrossed in the final installment of Harry Potter. As of lights-out last night, I had read through chapter 10. 2am comes. Attack proceeds. The only part I can explain (as I outlined above) is that the attack manifested itself in a dream wherein the Dark Lord was uploading furniture through my colon. (because he really is that evil). I regret this comes in the form of TMI. However, obviously I don't care since I'm sharing it on my blog. Punch line: funny how, even through the searing pain that woke me from my gentle slumber, my initial reaction was, "at least my furniture came earlier than scheduled..."

So people keep asking me... Where's the new house? When do you move in? Are you already there? Are you excited? And it's difficult because here's the deal: I just don't want to talk about it right now. I'm still a little freaked about the M word. My loan is technically not approved through THDA yet. I don't close for another 2 weeks. I have 2 months to move in. I want to get excited, but I'm really just not letting myself right now. Basically because I can't do anything about it for another 2 weeks. I won't let myself buy any new furniture yet, because I can't put in in the house yet. I havn't gone paint shopping yet because I can't start painting until Labor Day weekend. I'm this close to getting a dog, but I won't until I'm settled in the new place. I'm just kind of in limbo right now, and so I don't want to talk about it. Fair enough? But in 15 days...watch out. There will be pictures. And posts. And shopping spr

* Revised - I realized my error when I was reading over my notes this evening. The correction certainly adds weight to an already extensive circumstance. The flight from Atlanta to Panama City was 3 hours long. We had previously just flown from Nashville to Atlanta - a 30 minute flight that was shorter than the time we sat on the departing runway. We were laid over in Atlanta for hours longer than planned. Finally, seated in the next to last row, a 3-day migraine in-tow, we headed to a place none of us had ever been before. I sat between two women. To my left, a Swedish girl - about my age - declined to watch the in-flight movie because she had watched it on her previous flight that day. She had been awake and traveling for 24 hours. To my left, a Panamanian woman sat quietly. Peering out the window with anticipation most of the trip. I made little small-talk with these women - only enough to find out what I relay to you now. I spent most of the flight desparatley and unsuccessfully c

Anyone see a problem here? Aside from the obvious triple-digits, I think the description of "fair" is....deceptive.

So I went on a quest today to find The Bourne Identity in paperback. I, of course, started with the library, since I have about $50 in the bank until next Wednesday. But with the movie release of The Bourne Ultimatum this weekend, the library, of course, was out of copies. No worries, I thought. I will just have to buy one at the supermarket. I need bread anyways. I exist too easily in this world of instant gratification. Luckily, I'm only down $5.99.

I'm still reeling from last night's perfectly cinematic, ultimately satisfying, three-part conclusion of the Jason Bourne series. Definitely the best of the three. I really wish I had had time to re-watch the previous two before taking in the finale, but I knew it would all come back to me once it began - kind of like a new Harry Potter book after 2 years of waiting for the next installment. As the credit rolled, several pieces of the story began to connect in my mind, and I found myself dually impressed by the surprisingly intelligent and meaningful moral of the story. For those of you who have followed the Bourne series, and have already read the books - you should have more detailed commentary on my amateur observations. So please feel free to add in the comments section. As you are about to find, I am strangely affected obsessed with this story. In the ten minutes of the first movie, Jason Bourne emerges from mysterious waters and finds that he has no idea who he is. He al

I just now finally finished catching up on almost 2 weeks of missed blog-reading. Sheesh - you guys write, like, ALL THE TIME! I'll admit, I didn't read every word of every post piling up in my feed-reader. With the small exception of a few favs. Being away for a week has really been harder to recover from this time than ever before. I guess maybe it has something to do with the other major thing going on in my life right now. (that would be "buying a house" for those not paying attention recently). Anyone who ever tells you that buying a house is fun and not stressful and a very enjoyable venture, lies. I look forward to tomorrow for the following reasons: I will feel refreshed and ready to kick all tail at work and life in general tomorrow because I am going to bed in T minus 21 minutes. (9pm) I am getting back to the gym for the first time in about 2 weeks. What's on the sweat-menu? Kickboxing, of course. Pray for me. My first week back at work will officially

Just a quick post to let everyone know I'm home now and very pleased with last week's trip. I'll be posting a lot about the trip in the coming days. Unfortunately, the transfer port on my camera came home in less than ideal conditions, so my 1,048 pictures are going to have to wait to be shared here until I can get it fixed. But once I do, watch out. I think my Flickr might explode. In the mean time, check out the link I added to my blogroll - Panama Jack . Jack Farber is the director of Latin American Missions. He has been posting blog updates on the work we did last week, as well as the work that will continue this week. I'd also like to share that I am now an official member of the Delayed Luggage Club! I'll let you know in a few days if that membership gets upgraded to the ( officially ) Lost Luggage Club. I'm pretty stoked about the whole thing. I mean, it's an honor just to be nominated. Thanks Delta. Also, special thanks goes out to Atlanta Int'l

You can't see me here, but that's me...floatin' down the Panama Canal. Or at least, that WILL be me, in about 24 hours or so. Blogging here will be non-existent for the next week. Like that's anything new. I hope you'll pray for our safety and success! I can't wait to get some REAL pics of this place. Love & Peace - see you next week.

I fear I have led my readers astray in my previous post. I'm here to set the record straight: all is well. I am not depressed. I am not sad. I am not worried. I was more or less just venting. I was also tired. Lesson to the kiddies: never blog on an empty sleep-bank. I enjoy that my life is full of activities and pursuits and responsibilities. I just need to learn to get enough sleep in order to manage it all gracefully. Set your own record straight.

Life has been in fast-forward lately. It keeps whizzing by me like I'm a passenger in a speeding car. Cliche as of late: "work has been crazy" Trying to buy a house. Freaking out overing trying to buy a house; but being simultaneously elated over the whole thing. Trying to write a blog as a side-gig. I missed my side-job today. I'm supposed to leave on a mission trip to Panama in just over a week. Note the word "supposed". I feel so unprepared for it in all respects. Physically. Emotionally. Worst of all, spiritually. I literally don't even know what my assignment is yet, nor have I personally received my flight itinerary. I have heard rumors, though, that others on our team have received this...itinerary. I am struggling with this idea that the trip has come before the mission . I feel it should be the other way around. Or maybe it is, and I am just not privy to the plan. In that respect, I am a blind missionary. I know there is a need, but I won't

Warning: I'm about to be shameless. So a lot of you know that I write for another site called About Nashville hosted by 451Press.com. My editors are running a contest for their current writers that will pay $500 to the writer that can get the most incoming links during the month of July. Every time someone you link this blog or this site from your blog or site, I become one link closer to the cash victory. What's in it for you? My undying appreciation, of course. Kidding. I will return the favor with a little link love of my own for ya. So let's get linking!! Mama needs a new pair of shoes is trying to buy her first house this year! UPDATE : if you do choose to participate, please leave a comment or send me an email so I will know about it. Right now, I'm not sure I know any other way to catch your link.

I found this website through Jonathan Hickman's blog. It gives your blog a rating (like movies) based on a quick scan for key words and how many times you've used them. Guess what mine is rate?? Duh. The best part was the explanation it gave for my rating: This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words: shoot (1x) Yah, I'm really bad about using that word...

Several years ago I spent seven weeks during two summers working at my childhood Bible camp in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. Sometimes on my days off, I would borrow my friend's car and explore the dirt roads that snaked between the mountain, cutting memories into my mind and leading me to breathtaking overlooks, private residences, and the all too frequent dead-end. I credit this car-loaning friend with introducing me to the Indigo Girls. This duo writes songs more closely resembling poetry than any other songwriters I've ever heard. As I traveled the endless options of left and rights and forks-in-the-road, these women would provide a soundtrack that, for me, became synonymous with those two years of my life. Today my iPod played for me Love's Recovery. Though this was probably the 500th time I had heard this song, I admit this is the first time I've ever bothered to listen to the words. I think I have a new favorite IG song: During the time of which I spea

It's my blogaversary...or something. One year ago today I wrote my first post here. I didn't even have my blog open to the public. I was afraid for people to read me. A couple of weeks later, I made my blog public. I thought it would be ok if someone 'happened' upon this. But I didn't want anyone I knew to know. A couple of months later I left a comment on my sister's blog, outing myself not only to the blogosphere, but to my world. To people I knew. To people I knew would read this. It was a little scary, but I wanted to do it. A couple of hours later, people were reading. People I knew, and people I didn't know. People were leaving comments. People were enjoying. A couple of months later I found NiT . A couple of months later NiT found me . A couple of months after that I met people from NiT. A couple of days later we became friends. Ten months after I started blogging, I accepted a city-writer spot at 451 Press . Around that time I also bought my firs

Ivy sits alone in corner at the back of a bar (yah, like that happens a lot). Enter Kerry Woo. Kerry and Ivy contemplate the larger universe which envelopes them. They are satisfied with their findings. Ivy spies her chance to sit next to Justin on the couch. See ya! Kerry, struggling to hide the pain, gives us a brave smile. Life moves on. It's that fast.

When I was little, I remember sitting in church and watching the contribution plate being passed and wondering what it all meant. Even at a very young age, I understood that all things belonged to God because He made them. So it was, of course, a mystery to me why we were giving Him our money. In my mind, God didn't need money. He already owned everything. How could our currency have any value to an all-possessing God? So, as a child, I thought this passing of the money-plate was a strange ritual indeed. Even stranger to me was contemplating how the money got from the collection plate to Heaven. I imagined everyone leaving the auditorium after services, and the lights being cut, and the doors being locked. I imagined the communion table at the front of the room, sitting there all alone in dark, waiting for every soul to vacate. And then, somewhere in the middle of the night, the money would begin to magically float up out of the golden plates and into heaven - a transition complet

I just got tagged. By a cheater, no less. Well, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt, and say that he is merely putting a spin on this whole tagging game. You see, my tagger was tagged by someone who said "list 8 random things about you". Then he tagged 6 people (and he was supposed to tag 8 people - see? Eight facts, 8 people.) So John is all like, Joe wants me to list 7 random facts about myself....uh, ok. And then tags 6 people. So the way I see it, I only have to list 6 random facts about myself, and then tag 6 people. Right? And the people I tag would just list 5 random things about themselves and then tag 6 people (because the only constant here is that everyone is tagging 6 people, regardless of the number of random facts they list), and so on and so forth, until the final victim tagee actually does not have to list anything (or perhaps they list a negative number of facts, in which case their would be no final tagee, but an infinite potential for this meme to c

...and some other dude on the left.

Happy Birthday Sweet Pea!

Eric Heatherly @ The Stage on Broadway, Tuesday 5/22

If you visit here regularly, you may (or may not) have noticed something. I don't blog about t.v. shows. This is because I don't really watch t.v. that much. Yes, I have one, and yes, I have cable. And yes, I do, on occasion, decide to sit down and relax by voluntarily turning off my brain and turning on that blackhole box. But I don't have a show . I don't want a show. I want to explain why. This post is dedicated to those of you out there who have a show, have too many shows, or think you need a show. And you all know I know you know who you all are... Top Ten reasons why you do not need a show: 10. You are what you see. This could be bad if you are watching - well anything. Unless you are watching your own reality t.v. show, and then that would be, just, meta - and therefore redundant, and also a little bit egomaniacal . But I digress. 9. Studies show watching teevee produces less brain activity than sleeping. It also has an adverse affect on your ability to discern

I took my laptop to Panera yesterday afternoon to do some writing since they have free wifi and awesome food. As I was putting it and the AC adaptor in my carrying case I decided I should grab my iPod and headphones, and spent about a minute and a half untangling my earbuds. My cell phone was also in desparate need of charging, so I brought my charger as well. I wanted to bring my camera and transfer all my current pics to my laptop, but honestly did not feel like lugging it out the house also, not to mention, another plug-in cord. I got to looking at all my gadgets....all of these wireless gadgets of this wireless age. And what did I see? A bunch of wires. BTW, happy 100th post to me :)

I drive past this scene about a dozen times every week. Do you know where it is? Hint: it is owned by a founding member of the Grand Ol' Opry.

So it's official: I am a new aunt again. Yes. Apparently for the last 9 months my sister has been unknowingly carrying the next big thing to hit the Carden household. No. Seriously, you guys will believe anything. They got a PUPPY!!! This is awesome since it happens to be the next best thing to having one of my own. It's like training wheels for the soon-to-be-puppy-mother. Much like being an aunt to actual children, except I'm no soon-to-be-mother to any of those. I'm holding out until I get a house (possibly this year), or until I just can't take it anymore and I break down low enough to pay the exorbitant pet deposit plus adoption fees, shots, food, clothing , bedding, toys, pet insurance , etc...am I leaving anything out?? Motherhood is expensive. Aunthood is soooo much better! Now all she needs is a name. GMan wants to call her doggy. JBelle wants to call her Clara. David wants to call her Taffy. I want to call her Sweetmamalicksalot. Malia wants to never name

Cute? Yes. Amazing? Definitely. Legendary? Always. Before I begin oding to Patty Griffin, I'd like to share a story. Monday night I went to a friend's brand new house in Mt. Juliet that she won on a reality t.v. show so we could watch a personal screening of the show that will publicly air on Saturday May 5 (yes, really.) I told her, I'm going to see Patty Griffin at the Ryman tomorrow night! She said, "oh yeah!?, the one with the red hair?!" I said, "yes!" and immediately felt in my heart that this friend did not know who Patty Griffin was, but was instead, erringly referring to KATHY GRIFFIN! Oh yes. Yes she did. Errrrr..... On to a happier story. Patty was beautiful, and humble, and soulful, and girly. All the things I love about her, plus. She wore a light green sparkly cocktail dress with flaming red stilettos that mirrored her hair. She was a vision. She's also very tiny. Did you know that? Yes, very tiny. She pranced onto the stage like a chil

I magine that you are standing in front of a door. And you know that what is behind this door will completely fulfill your life. It will bring into fruition every dream you have for yourself. It will bring you what you’ve always hoped and wished for. So you go to push open this door, and much to your frustration you find that it won’t budge. You keep pushing, adding more and more pressure until finally the weight of your body is leaned against this door. It still does not open. You step back and get a running start, thinking surely you can force this door open. When that does not work, you pray that God will open this door for you. After all, you know that God wants all good things for you, so surely He would want you have what is on the other side of this door! Unfortunately, even prayer does not open this door. Confused by the difficulty of this seemingly simple task, and deeply hurt by the perceived rejection of your Creator, you finally give up. In the moment you take the pressure

Last night I did something I never do. I went a show at Douglas Corner Cafe featuring local singer/songwriters. My friend Susan seriously makes a hobby lifestyle out of going to these shows. You can find her at any random dive/live music venue on any random night of the week, supporting the lesser-known folk in their dream of making it big in the music industry. Not only does she listen to the music, she meets the artists AND becomes FRIENDS with them. She's so cool. *sigh* Anyways, she was telling me earlier this week that a mutual friend of ours was singing back-up for a local singer/songwriter opening for another singer/songwriter at Douglas Corner this Thursday night. I'd been wanting to see her perform for a while, so I figured this was my chance. As much as I enjoyed the opening act...it was a little long. Tell me, since I don't go to these things that much...is it OK to perform 14 songs when the main event is only doing 10? hmmm....just a harmless question. So o

I have had some complaints from the greater populace regarding my blog's ban on anonymous commenting. The reason I set it up this way was in attempt to defy the laws of spamming. I don't get a lot of spam on my blog, and I'd like to keep it that way. But in an effort to better serve my readership, I am, at this time, lifting the ban and accepting 'anonymous' comments. If you are commenting without a Blogger account, please tag your comment with at least your first name, or some other identifying nom de plum. Otherwise, I will assume you are a stalker and may possibly delete you from the face of the earth your comment. Don't test me. Disclaimer: If at any time the lifting of this ban results in increased spam, we'll resume to 'account-holders' only and all y'all non-account holders wishing to comment will just have to contact me some other way. Anonymously Yours, For The Love Managment

My roommate and I have a saying. Whenever we're watching t.v. and something goes wrong with the program - like the sound goes out, or the show gets cut-off and another random shows begins mid-story (believe me, it's happened - enough times that we have a saying for it), we'll look at each other and say, "guess the network left the intern in charge." So earlier this morning I got one of those annoying 'funny forwards', only this time, it was funny. The premise of the email was mapping directions from New York to Paris. All I'm gonna say next is Google has some mighty fine interns . Scroll down to direction #23, if you will.

It scares me sometimes how quickly time goes by. I guess hitting 30 will do that to you. I can only imagine how it's gonna hit at 40...at 70... "The week ends the week begins" ( Dave Matthews ) Sometimes in my mind I put the day in fast-forward and I can see myself lying in bed, already reflecting on things that haven't happened yet . On Sunday nights I tend to look ahead to the week that lies before me and I can see a fairly accurate image. I will go to work. I will go to church. I will excersize at the Y. I will eat, I will sleep. I will do certain things each evening depending on the day of the week. I will see the same people, do the same job, drive the same roads, and do the same things I've done every week for who knows how long. This is the unchanging framework of routine which surrounds me. But I am a blur of motion. The only things I can't foresee are those little surprises that seem to make the dull constancies worth it. Like getting an email from a

Listen to this: All the chistles I've dulled carving idols of stone That have crumbled like sand 'neath the waves. I've recklessly built all my dreams in the sand just to watch, them all wash away. Through another day, another trial, another chance to reconcile To One who sees past all I see. And reaching out my weary hand I pray that you'd understand You're the only one who's faithful to me. All the pennies I've wasted in my wishing well I have thrown like stones to the sea. I have cast my lots, dropped my guard, searched aimlessly for a faith To be faithful to me. Through another day, another trial, another chance to reconcile To one who sees past all I see. And reaching out my weary hand I pray that you'd understand You're the only one who's faithful to me. You're the only one who's faithful to me.

Kurt Vonnegut November 11, 1922 - April 11, 2007 I started reading Vonnegut when I was in college in '97. Like many other readers, it was his most widely acclaimed Slaughterhouse-Five that introduced me to him. Then it was Breakfast of Champions that hooked me. In this author, I experienced a style of writing that to me was endearing. It wasn't flowery or pretty. It was plain and truthful. It was irreverent at times, but honest to his heart. Best of all, it was funny. I just noticed I am using past tense here - not because he is gone, but more because I'm reliving those first days of my Vonnegut-discovery. I am tempted to say I'll miss him, but I didn't know him personally. What I know of him I read in his books, which are still with me and available to be read and reread. I am sad to realize, however, that there will be no more new releases. No more original chicken-scratch illustrations. But, "so it goes," he would have said. So it goes. Dear Mr. Vo

Last Sunday my roommate Holly and I brunched at Sophie's Bistro on Nolensville Road. The service was...surprising. As I ordered my 3-egg omelet with 5-year cheese, spinach, and bacon, the waitress gazed intently into my eyes, nodding her head, drinking in every word of my order, her doe-eyes silently communicating concern and approval simultaneously. I get nervous when this phenomenon occurs. My roommate ordered a similar dish - the 3-egg omelet as well, only with 3 other choices inside, specifically I do not remember. I apparently was not the only one. As the waitress whisked herself away to put in our order, I immediately looked at Holly, held my left hand out, palm up, and began to imitate the motion of writing with my right hand, as if to silently say, "write it down lady!" She nodded in agreement, then excused herself to the restroom. No more than 15 seconds after Holly left the table, the following conversation took place between me and our waitress, whom we will re

This morning, as I was getting ready for worship, I had my iTunes on shuffle listening to music, and Sarah McLachlan's The Answer came on. I was about to hit 'next' because I was in the mood for spirituals, and then it hit me - what this song has always made me think of. I don't know who Sarah wrote this song for, or what it means to her, but I'm pretty sure she did not write it from the perspective of Jesus Christ. For some strange reason, this song has always created a scene in my head that comes from John 19:38. It begins right after Jesus has died. "Later, Joseph of Arimathea asked Pilate for the body of Jesus. Now Joseph was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly because he feared the Jews. With Pilate's permission, he came and took the body away. He was accompanied by Nicodemus, the man who earlier had visited Jesus at night. Nicodemus brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five pounds. Taking Jesus' body, the two of them wrapped it, wi

When I was little, my bedroom was a small village of stuffed animals. I loved them, and I believed that each one was real and that they all came to life when I wasn't around. Even before hearing The Velveteen Rabbit, and MUCH before Toy Story was ever a glimmer in Disney's eye, this was my childhood belief. One animal in particular was, and is still, my favorite - the leader of the pack, the chief of the tribe. He was small in stature, but what he lacked in size he made up for in kindness, friendship, and wisdom. All the other animals looked up to him (well...down, but you know - figuratively up) because they knew that he was my most admired animal. And there was no jealousy because...well because they are stuffed animals and this is MY story and MY childhood, so there was no jealousy amongst them. Only harmony. :) Sam was given to me in 1984 during the summer Olympics. In the moment we were introduced we became instant friends. Inseparable, genuine BFF. He went everywhere with

Special weather statement: COLD WEATHER EXPECTED THIS EASTER WEEKEND......EASTER FASHION LIKELY TO INCLUDE FUR COATS... Some things are just awesome to me.

My friend Brian does 'Friday Foto' on his blog and I've always thought that was such a great idea. Now that I've got my super-sweet Canon 30D , I want to try my own version. Hope you don't mind Nicklaus. I'm taking today off work!! Happy Good Friday to all.

Last night, this dude tried to move into my apartment. He did not have rent, so I had to put the smack down. Literally.

My nephew does Downward Dog on command. Good nephew. Good. Peek-a-boo! This one I call 'Potted Plant', but he still thinks he's doing Downward Dog. Kids are cute.

Welcome! Here's a fun little ditty I wrote...about 10 years ago. Don't think about it too much. Could it Can't it Might it be - we try too hard, we dig too deep? we look too hard, with passion we search spend hours on hours, we desperatley lurk we search and research......we read and discuss we fervently seek, then fail in disgust. Sometimes you will notice an interesting thing: if you look hard enough you won't see a thing!!! some poems are like that, their purpose is dense. it appears they are meaningful when they're really nonsense! **end** Wow! look who's here! It's Gabe Dixon. He'd like to perform my "today's favorite song", All Will Be Well. I'm gonna sneak out now though cuz I've already heard this song play a million times in my head today. You guys enjoy. I'm going to kickboxing. All Will Be Well - Gabe Dixon Band The new day dawns, And I am practicing my purpose once again. It is fresh and it is fruitful if I win but i

My apartment lost about 20 pounds this afternoon. I got rid of a whole box of clothes, and several boxes of junk I can't believe I still had. I'm a no-clutter kind of girl. But I still end up accumulating too much stuff I don't need and will never use. When I was little I used to keep everything. I even had a pair of tennis shoes called Pack Rats. They had little pockets on the side where you could keep stuff. You know like a penny, or a jellybean, or a moth. Did I mention I kept everything? Now I can't stand to have things around that I don't need or use. It feels heavy. It feels wrong. It makes me anxious and unorganized, and when I feel unorganized my Life seems like one leaky shingle away from overhead disaster. Occasionally I even bereave the decorative items. I look at them with the disdain of a Superior Purposeful Useful Human. What are you, oh ornamental bowl that holds no matter? What say you, inferior green topiary? Have you nothing but the minor power of

I can't believe this! Who does she think she is? THE Hermione Granger? No, she is an actress. She is 16. She is doing a disservice to Harry Potter fans everywhere! Not to mention the illiterate ones. Ok, that may be going a little over the top. But, my goodness!! What's two more films Miss Watson? Um...about $4.5 million in the bank. You're right, that's totally not worth it. This article, by the way, reminds me of something out of the Scene's Fabricator. Or maybe I'm just in denial. Another round of butterbeer, please. We're gonna need it.

My coworker Anna and I had lunch at Chili's today. Little did we know we would be served by a local rock star. We had no sooner sat down and ordered our diet cokes with and without lemon from our waiter Joel, than were we approached by another server who was positive we were both Irish and wanted to know where were were from. Joel comes back with our drinks, shoots 'other server guy' a dirty look and says jokingly, "stop talking to my table." 'Other server guy' runs in the other direction and we all share a short laugh and knowing smile. Throughout our lunch, 'other server guy' continues to make odd appearances, crouching down at eye level, making inconspicuous Irish conversation, as not to draw attention from Joel. Joel, however, is not so easily deceived, and always seems to round the corner to our rescue at all the right times, sending 'other server guy' in the 'other direction' each time. By the time we were finishing up, '

It's open-mic night here at For The Love. I recently found some poems that I wrote my freshman year of college. It's funny. I knew at the time that I would one day find them and read them, and I always wondered what my future self would think of them when I did. Would I think they were stupid? Would I no longer understand what I was talking about? Would I throw them away in a desparate act of unholy obliteration? Some, I remember, have already fallen victim to the latter. Years ago. But I pulled a few of the survivors out tonight and decided I will probably, at some point, share a select few, here on this stage page. I am surpised to find that the future self I am today would totally write these poems now, that is, if I had more energy and inspiration. The one I've been thinking of for a while now, goes something like this: Plunge me like a naked child make me learn to swim Plunge me like a dying sinner into waters that for- give and I will let you I won't fight it'