thought pattern

i hate when i'm absent from blogging, yet for some reason, i struggle to log in and put the ideas from head onto "paper." tonight, i created my own coffee shop in my kitchen in order to escape the frigid temperatures outside. with the oven on and open for extra warmth, my favorite candle lit (cranberry mandarin), a hot drink at my side, and loud christmas music in the background, one would think that i was prepared for an evening of writing; for the blog; for grad school. i've been sitting here for about an hour; thinking. about my day. about my year. about what next year is about to hold--endings in site; new beginnings, new challenges ahead. thinking about friends: one going through a rough time (Lord, please heal her heart), one stepping bravely into her past (Lord, please protect her from lies), one still mysterious in many ways (Lord, what the heck?). thinking about churches and foster children; lifetime movies and work to be done tomorrow. i should be thinking about what motivated me to be a teacher and why grad school would help me accomplish my personal and professional goals. but grandpa comes to mind, and then grandma which of course leads to thinking of the holiday this week. my grandma and i share a love for the same christmas carol. i love to sing...to worship from my inner most being. i love when i allow myself to write freely. i love to tell stories. to paint detailed pictures in the listener's mind. can i write freely in an essay for entrance to grad school? wish i could just sing for them. alas, singing has very little to do with teaching. motivation for teaching? i think i'll go play the guitar.

the reason why i sometimes find it appropriate to use mild explicatives in the same sentence as the word squirrel

i finally met the neighbors today. you know, the ones across the street that i see coming and going quite often. yhis was not a Bree Vandekamp welcome to the neighborhood. there were no muffins involved; not even one piece of fruit. even my smile was unreturned, but at least she sort of shook my hand. she told me her name and gestured at her husband who was loading something into their car. then she pointed out their house (as if I didn't know which house it was) and proceeded to explain that they were held-up, at gunpoint, in their garage on friday.

"we're just trying to let everyone know," she said in a somewhat shell-shocked tone.

the semi-mothering side of me kicked in with "are you okay" and "do you need anything", but she just continued to say, "we just want people to know."

i'm not oblivious to the kind of neighborhood that i've chosen to live in. Iive seen a drug deal go down on the corner. i wonder if this couple knew or if they were deceived by the beauty of it's tree-lined streets. i am both saddened and scared, mostly with them. but what has haunted me since the conversation this afternoon: it took a horrible situation for neighbors to finally meet. when neighbors can't be neighbors or choose not to be neighbors: that's when evil sneaks into the garage.

like a stab to the heart...

when "pick" really means "choose"

I have never been pumpkin picking. My roommate, her sister, and I made the trek out to a semi-local farm that advertises "pick your own pumpkin" in order to partake in one of their family's traditions: pumpkin carving. As we drove down the field-lined highway, the excitement swelled in me; probably from the small town side of my soul. Thanks to the jedi-light-sabered-air traffic controlling-men, we found a parking spot with hitting any small children or oversized pumpkins that were being carted around the parking lot. We found our way to the giant stack of giant pumpkins...yes both the pumpkins and the stack were giant (sorry no photos)...and then to the pumpkins that were much easier to carry to the car. My companions immediately started walking up and down the aisles, looking for pumpkins with the perfect shape and the right stem. I tried to focus on the hints and tips they were giving me, but the country girl in me wanted to walk out into the field and pick a pumpkin, which the farm had advertised that you could do. It didn't take much convincing to get the ladies to saunter to the field with me; all the while envisioning myself pulling a pumpkin off the vine. Imagine my dismay when, at the field's edge, the pumpkins were already picked. More than at the field's edge, they were picked in the field's center and all the way to where the field faded into dirt. This farm did not mean that you pick, as in take directly from the vine. They meant that you could walk out into the field and pick, as in choose, your pumpkin. So I bought into the methods of my friends. I scrutinized the size and shape and stem. Instead of the from the field, my pumpkin came from the $9 row just beneath the giant tower of giant pumpkins

girls on the run 5k

Molly and I nearing the end - 35.07 was our time!

Katy and Rebekah

After the race, freezing and hungry, but we made it!

raina's birthday cake

moldy pumpkins and dead mums...

a sign of winter?

top fifteen things i like to do with my super cute friends

15. Associating cuss words with squirrels
14. Your mom or Your mom's?
13. In my mind, I'm already there
12. Sleepovers
11. Playing Loaded Questions
10. Being super cute
9. Filling bedrooms with random, small, really hard to clean up items, like tinsel or oversized inflatable pumpkins.
8. Lighting, or rather, putting out, accidental fires
7. "Demons, come out!"
6. Ringing the butler
5. "We" ness
4. What Lawanda would engrave on her bowling ball
3. Hyperventilating while listening to stories of hyperventilation
2. Discussing taxation without representation
1. Eating pancakes with Aunt Jamima

*Note: This blog is based solely on the inside jokes relevant to 7 individuals. My apologies to those of you who are not those 7 individuals, but it was necessary.

**Double note: This is the 200th post on yeah, like the fish!

and the award goes to...

The picture below entitled "lost" won second place in the photo show. Thanks to a stellar model, Mr. Jaron Rohde, for being himself (aka driving his mother crazy by being a dare devil marine that climbed in all kinds of really dangerous places on the cliff overlooking the ocean, but at one point taking a break to stare deeply at the ocean providing the perfect photo opportunity for the less couragous.)

this year's photo show entries

results on sunday...see below for pictures

lost

tree of life