I'm glad

The story behind this: at nap time I lay down with my niece until she (or we) fall asleep. It usually goes the same way. We lay face to face. She opens her eyes to see if my eyes are open. I smile, she smiles, we giggle, and so on. Usually, I just quit opening my eyes and she falls right to sleep.
Today, during our ritual, we shared a sweet moment. It's one I won't forget, so I was compelled to write about it.

Her hands rest softly under her sweet little cheek.

Eyes shut so tight, but still try to peek.

Each peek brings a check to see what face they'll meet.

They are met with a smile, and return one so sweet.

More time passes between each checking glance.

The more times I think I'm one of the lucky aunts.

The last time she peeks, my smile bares a whisper,

"I'm glad I'm your auntie" is what it says to her.

Her tiny little face smiles wide and peeps,

"I'm glad I'm your niece" and she drifts off to sleep.

I'm left there to wonder, as I blink back my tears,

"I hope she knows that throughout all her years."

More Old School

Since Old School was such a hit, I thought I'd elaborate. I wrote it rather quickly for a class. I found out that day that I was to have 10 blog posts published, and turned in the next day. YOW-ZA

Here are a list of a few things that I've come across attending college as an "almost 30-er".

1. One of my professors is my age...exactly. He said he could tell I was older. RUDE. WRONG ANSWER, PROFESSOR. Never say that to a woman...ever.
2. My classmates were in 2nd grade when 9/11 occurred. I was not.
3. Being an older student gets me zero extra brownie points from professors, no matter how often I flash my smile, and pretend to be listening. (See #10)
4. I AM REMINDED EVERY DAY HOW UNCOOL I AM. I turn in to this extra awkward, unable to communicate person anytime I approach a group of students, or am forced to interact with them. I don't know what to do with my hands, or my face, or my facial expressions. I'm certain they refer to me as "that awkward lady who's always smiling at the professors during class and does her homework." (ALSO, see #10)
5. Kids love the popular music from the late 90's early 2k's. This does not make me feel cool, or with the in crowd. It just makes me feel confused.
6. Did you know the popular nights to go out are Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday? Not the all assuming Friday night. The night doesn't begin until 11 p.m. How do these kids function?! If I'm gonna stay out late (and by late I mean, midnight) I need to KNOW I am able to sleep as much as I want the next day. If not, I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE. Yoga pants and pizza never keep me up late.
7. College kids get so much anxiety when they are unable to check their phones during class. I personally enjoy the 80 minutes of every class where I don't feel obligated to check my phone. It's glorious. Until I hear it buzz 100 times, and then I panic that everyone I have ever loved has been buried alive by a swarm of African bees.
8. College kids in the Mass Communications department don't want to talk about the missing Malaysian plane. Whatever. I know they're curious.
9. The director of Karate Kid and Rocky spoke at my school. I'm pretty sure no one else had seen the movies, and I'm pretty sure I'm the only one that laughed at the guy's jokes, and thought it was THE COOLEST THING EVER. Ask me about it..seriously. Goosebumps throughout the whole thing. (THIS IS WHY I'M NOT COOL.)
10. One of my teachers is so nice. She is always smiling. I've spoken to her quite a few times, inside and outside of class. We've spoken about my major, the weather, Anne Bradstreet, etc. Last week (OVER HALF WAY INTO SEMESTER), during class, "Will you read paragraph 4...um...uh....I'm sorry, I can never remember your name." Me: "Um...Me?" "Yes." Me with quivering, betrayed sad voice: "It's Stephanie." Then I remembered, when she calls role, she always looks around when she says my name, and I've sat in the same seat the whole semester. Even the professors don't think I'm cool. (See #3)

Here's the thing, though. In spite of all of my insecurities that I'm reminded of on a weekly basis, I am having so much fun learning! I never thought I'd say that. When I was 18-21, I was not excited about learning anything. Which led my scholarly years into the years of hard knocks. I can tell I am surrounded by so many students who just want to pass. They don't want to do the work. They don't care. They don't want to learn. I want to shake them and say, "PUT YOUR PHONE DOWN. YOU WILL NOT DIE. AND, take advantage of this! You will never get it back!!" But, I don't, because, well, see #4. No one can take me seriously.

No matter how old you are, get out there! Get it done! Even if it's a sewing class, a photography class, or even starting from the beginning for your doctorate..DO IT! You won't regret it! Knowledge is power!!

Last thing, people really do wear pajama's and house shoes to class. PAJAMAS. HOUSE SHOES. That's passable at Wal-Mart, but I think that's it.

FacePlace Part 2.

 Part 2 of the people who are killing FaceLand.

The look how pretty I am's. Guys, gals...yes, you are pretty. Stop. You know you're pretty. We know you're pretty. We see your pictures, of yourself, at least 5 times a day. Stop. YOU ARE PRETTY.

The vaguebookers. Jesus take the wheel with these people. They need a hug, a friend, a listening ear, and they think they've found this in their 200 FaceBook friends. Peeps: this is not the place. Call your mom, dad, grandma, 911...anyone. But don't come to FaceBook for attention. IT IS THE WORST TYPE.

EXAMPLE: Over it. FML.
FACEBOOK: Why? What's wrong?
VAGUER: Nothing. Don't want to talk about it.
ME: THEN DON'T BRING IT UP. I'M THE ONE WHO'S OVER IT!! (of course I say this silently to myself.)

The public shamers. Grammar police, and arguers both fall under this category. These shamers take every chance to make you look stupid. This can be done by posting an awful photo of you. In this photo, however, they look great, but you look like the Hunch Back of Notre Dame, but with make up and a cute dress on. Or, these people find an awful photo, someone male or female that looks like a disaster, and say, "this person reminded me of you." Keep in mind, these things are on THE INTERNET FOR ALL THE WORLD TO SEE. (these scenarios have happened to me multiple times, and I'm obviously still bitter about it...and re-evaluating my looks) What's wrong with you people? How does it make you feel better about yourself to make someone look stupid? It shouldn't! Also, these people support the grammar police when they point out a typo. Their comments usually consist of "HAHAHAHA!" It's rude, and stupid.

EXAMPLE: Fixing to watch Amazign Race. Anybody else love this show?
GRAMMAR POLICE: I've never seen Amazign Race, but I love Amazing Race.
SHAMERS: HAHAHAHA! Amazign. HAHAH!! LOL! Who does that?!
Me: You are the worst. Ok. Bye.

Last we have the LOOK HOW CUTE MY KID IS peeps. Everyone enjoys a picture every now and then of your cute kid. You, however, are the ONLY one who enjoys seeing 100 pictures of your kid every day. Do you want to see 10-20 posts of my dogs everyday? No? Ok.

Moral of this story: quit ruining fun things for people, folks. You are the only one who is having some sort of weird, distorted fun. Be considerate of other people's time and feelings.
I wonder if anyone will read this, because I don't have a FaceBook page to share this on. Oh, the irony.

Ok. Bye.

FacePlace Part 1.

One person can only handle so many FaceBook crimes before they go insane, or in my case, more insane. I've recently taken a break from the wild and wonderful world of FaceLand. Here's why: instead of being a fun way to keep up with family and friends, it's become overrun with party poopers. I've found myself extremely annoyed with people I generally like in real life; but on social media I've seen sides of them that I wish I could keep on the internets. The grammar police, the over-sharers, the joke killers, the arguers, the look how pretty I am's, the vague-bookers, the public shamers, and the look at the 100 pictures of my kid that I took today that all look the same.

Since this is long, I'm going to make it a two-parter. In part one, we'll cover grammar police to the arguers.

Let's start with the grammar police. We all have that handful of friends who are the first to tell the world that you have *GASP* spelled something incorrectly on your witty status update. I picture them as sitting in a dark room with their dictionaries out, combing through FaceLand, just waiting for the opportunity to pounce on someone's incorrect usage of "your", or a misplaced comma, or just a general typo. Why do you people do that? Surely there is something else you should be doing.

EXAMPLE: Fixing to watch Amazign Race. Anybody else love this show?
GRAMMAR POLICE: I've never seen Amazign Race, but I love Amazing Race.
ME: Ok. Bye.

The beloved oversharers. These people can be fun sometimes. They post anything and EVERYTHING about their life. This is mostly annoying except when they share something a little too private, and a FaceBook argument ensues. We've all seen it. Someone posts something nasty on someone's wall, and the fight starts. This is when I usually screen shot the entire thing and text it to my BFF so we can laugh about it together. These people also post when they're vacuuming. When they're cooking. When they're "just relaxing", and so on. Peeps, you are vacuuming and cooking wrong if you have the time to post about it on FaceBook. Also, do you care if someone else is doing normal things that we should all be doing every day? No? Ok.

EXAMPLE: Exhausted. Vacuuming the house today. Cooking a 50 pound turkey right now.
FaceBook: ZERO LIKES OR COMMENTS

The joke killers. I absolutely CANNOT with these people. Grammar police are also joke killers, in case you were wondering. WHY DO YOU PEOPLE HAVE A FACEBOOK PAGE!?!!? Why is it fun killing everyone's jokes? It does not make you look cool or fun to be around.

EXAMPLE: Knock knock!
JOKE KILLER: You can't knock on FaceBook. There are no doors.
ME: Ok. Bye.

The arguers. These are the people that can turn a simple post that has nothing to do with anything into the biggest FaceBook argument ever. I think these people are usually very aggressive, and enjoy FacePlace arguing so they don't have to stop and actually listen to what people are saying. They can just go. On, and on, and on. No one enjoys these type of online friends, and I'm pretty sure no argument was ever settled, and no point was ever made over a social media argument.

EXAMPLE: The bluebonnets are out. I love them!
ARGUER: IT IS ILLEGAL TO PICK THEM! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? MY OPINIONS ARE THE RIGHT ONES! I AM ALWAYS RIGHT.
Me: delete.

*END OF PART 1* click here to read PART 2

Barkley Lewis Davis

One year ago today we lost our best friend. Remembering him today, and all the joy he brought us. He died the day before the 5th anniversary of his adoption. I wrote this that day with a sad heart. Today I read it with a sad heart, still, but thankful for the memories in this poem.

Five years ago today it was love at first sight.
We knew those green eyes would be home with us that night.
You slept in the car all the way home.
The amount of joy you would bring we still hadn’t known.
We gave you a bath for which you sat still.
The older you got, the more it was done against your will.
Our first fear of losing you came with distemper.
You beat it just fine - not even a whimper.
You were a pro at walking on the treadmill;
Except for the poop it flung on the window sill.
You climbed over your gate, and out of your crate.
You chewed our new TV stand, and that wasn’t great.
Now I love that I’ll remember you
Every time I see that corner you chewed.
When you were a puppy you didn’t like to snuggle.
That was something with which I struggled.
It wasn’t until you were big that you loved it.
All of your snuggles I will forever covet.
I miss your big nose sniffing my face;
Never once trying to sneak a quick taste.
I miss seeing you peek in the back door window.
I miss you weird, floppy, extra toe.
What I wouldn’t give to see you so excited
When asked “do you wanna go outside?”
Your dad’s best buddy and greatest companion.
He’d do anything to have you again.
To Kara you were so kind and so sweet
We’ll miss you not sneaking her toys to eat.
I’m sure she’ll remember “Barky” forever.
No one could forget you, ever, NEVER.
No longer ever night walking you to bed;
No longer every night kissing your head;
Hurts my heart with a pain I’ve never felt.
This should not have been the ending you were dealt.
Your spot on the couch, now empty and sad.
I want you there, one more time, so bad.
The funniest, sweetest dog this world has ever graced.
No other dog will ever replace.
Five small years you brought us so much laughter, love, and joy.
We’ll miss you forever, our sweet handsome boy.

Road Blocks

What am I doing? What are my plans?
I know that it all lies in God's hands;
But in this moment I feel discouragey.
The millionth time throughout this journey.

Is it realistic? A waste of my time?
This being time that's not only mine.
Am I the only one who benefits from this;
And what is it I gain from this experience?

My dreams are many, and all over the place.
The worry this makes I hide from my face.
A thousand road blocks in my life I have laid.
Most by me, and some by they.

Still I have pressed on with doubts all about it-
Relying on my strength which lies in my whit.
It may not be soon that this will pay,
But still I press on this confusing way.

For when I am old, or older than I feel,
I'll look back and admire my will.
I'll be glad this is the path I have taken.
Thankful my grit remained - never shaken.

The Best Mirror

I sat down at my make up vanity one morning and assessed the job ahead of me. As I leaned in for a closer look, something caught my eye. Not the new zit that popped up overnight, but this fortune - "The best mirror is often a good friend." My mirror is lined with fortunes that I've collected over the years. For some reason, this one stood out that day. I read the fortune, and looked back at my reflection.  Me, my mirror, and this fortune.

I thought about my closest friends. The best gals and guys I know. Good hearts, hard working, funny, kind, honest, and always, whether they know it or not, pushing me to be a better version of myself. 

Then I thought, I needed to start working on my face because the clock is ticking. These eyebrows aren't going to pluck themselves.

As I sat there, plucking my brows, concealing the bags under my eyes, and powdering my face, I hopped from thinking about my friends - those people that bring out the best parts of me, that I've spent years and months getting to know, that I look up to, and look to for advice - to how it seems to be rare that we take time to get to know ourselves. To look in the mirror and know everything about the person looking back at us. Appreciating the good, identifying the bad, and learning from it.

Many people depend on others for their identity. Flip flopping their opinions, style, and even beliefs depending on who they're closest to. It's an easy way to live life. We don't have to look at ourselves in the mirror, we just look at those around us and do what they do. Wear what they wear. That doesn't sound very fun, does it?

A counselor told me on time to write down a list of things I liked about myself. I haven't done that yet because I haven't found a notebook large enough to hold my list. But really, I think that's a healthy exercise. What do we like about ourselves? Please, though, don't share this list on Facebook. That defeats the purpose of everything, and an angel will probably lose its wings or something like that.

You are your best good friend. Take time to know who you really are. Life will be more fulfilling, not only for yourself, but for those around you. Don't squash the greatness in you, by trying to mirror the greatness in someone else.

Selfie-explanatory

What are selfies all about, anyway? I thought they were just a picture you took of yourself, but it turns out it's a picture you take, yourself, with you and anything/one else in it.

Why is this happening? What is the appeal? Am I missing something? Why is this a real word in the dictionary now?

Why is this happening? I have no idea, but please, make it stop.

What is the appeal? I'm assuming it's a way to get complements? And if you tag a Bible verse, or killer hashtag on the end of it, you get lots of likes and comments.  Stop doing this. You are pretty or handsome enough without likes or comments from people you don't really know. Like yourself! Look at yourself in the mirror. Take a pretend selfie, and like what you see! No matter what people comment, or how many people like your picture, YOU HAVE TO LIKE YOURSELF! These people will not change that.

Am I missing something with this? Like, is there some sort of contest involved? Is it a cash prize? I might want in on this.

Why is this a word in the dictionary now? WHY?! WHY?! WHY?!

AGAIN - You liking you is enough...it's ULTIMATE! One hundred people clicking "like" under your picture is not going to make you feel better about yourself. It's really not.

Here are a couple of examples of what might be an "ok" selfie.

Here we have the classic bathroom mirror selfie, but look, it's 2 people. This is OK....

How about this selfie.  A fat baby finger, part of a child's face, and a crazy adult face. This is probably ok because all of the things all up in this selfie.

These are NOT OK, in many senses of the word. I repeat NOT OK...

"Just me smiling on this beautiful day"

"John 3:16"

"So tired! #hugezit"

Communication via 2014

So, a couple of things I've learned recently.

1) Guys ask gals on dates via SnapChat (what's snapchat?!)
2) Guys and gals don't call each other on the phone anymore.

First thing's first - SnapChat. If you don't know what it is, good, but I'm about to tell you.

It's basically an app that you can post a picture, and whoever you send it to can only see it for 3 seconds up to 24 hours. After that, it's gone "forever" (We all know nothing is gone forever on the internet). If in the wrongs hands, this could be a REALLY creepy app, and recipe for trouble. ANYWAY.... Apparently guys take a selfie (don't even get me started on selfies), and put a caption on it "will you go to the movies with me? my mom is driving."  If you can't ask a girl on a date WITH YOUR VOICE, what makes you think you can talk to her FACE TO FACE in real life? No logic. None. It's awkward. The whole thing is awkward.

Now, onto guys and gals not talking on the phone anymore. It was recently brought to my attention that "People don't talk on the phone anymore. It's weird." Someone told me, after not being texted by a friend in a few days, "(insert name here) hasn't communicated with me in 3 days." I nearly fell out. What is happening? First the Biebs gets arrested, and now this is considered communication. Surely a sign of the end times.
My most fav memories, you know WAAAYYY back in 2006, were of me and my boo staying up late and talking on the phone. My favorite time of the day was when he would call. Yes, we texted, too (they did have that back then), but it wasn't the bulk of our communication.

I'm so sad and feel like kids these days (did I really just say that?!) are missing out on the best parts of getting to know someone. Hearing them laugh, instead of reading LOL, the nerves thinking about if a conversation gets an awkward silence instead of sitting and wondering if they were going to respond to your Snappy (oh dear). What about being able to tell if someone's smiling on the phone, instead of just seeing a :).

My most special memories are hearing my boyfriend (now hubby) clear his throat anytime there was even a half second of silence on the phone, and hearing the nervousness in his voice when he told me he loved me, IN PERSON. I would be so sad if my future children never had these memories.

I'm not hating on texting. It's convenient, and you can do it while you're going to the bathroom. You know you all do it.

I gotta go. I'm in a real deep texting conversation with my husband. We're planning our future via text. (SEE HOW SILLY THAT SOUNDS?!)

Pink Heart

Do you ever have special people from your past pop into your brain? Even if you're not a writer, I encourage you to keep a notebook for when this happens, and write down your memories of them. You'll be glad you did this, well, probably glad you did this. :)

Last night my Uncle Dale came to my mind. I think I was about 10 years old when he died. He was a bus driver. Had a short temper. He was gruff, rough, a lover of What-a-Burger and Jesus, father of 5, and husband to my dearest special aunt.

I only have a handful of specific memories with him.

One was on my birthday, (not sure which one). He told me I could pick out any candy I wanted from the snack shack at school. I remember exactly what I got. I knew he didn't have a lot of money, so this was a big deal.

Another is him playing catch with me in the front yard. As I now know, he pretended I was throwing it so hard it hurt his hand.

Then there was the time my whole family was gathered at the airport seeing my cousin off to college. It was Easter Sunday. My stomach wasn't feeling well, and Uncle Dale hugged me a little too tight. He hugged everyone very tightly. That was it. I puked right in the midst of my whole family, and on my mom's shoes.

From my memories, he was always sweet to me. I don't recall spending much time with him. He seemed to always be working. But, he did a good job of being my Uncle and letting me know, when he could, that he thought I was special. I think he knew how much I loved my aunt, his wife. Which leads me to my last memory of him.

He had open heart surgery, after a heart attack. It was not looking good for him. In my 10 year old memory, there were quite a few of us gathered in his hospital room. He was alert, but couldn't talk. He pointed at me and motioned me over. I remember feeling embarrassed and like the room was instantly quiet, and all eyes were on me. He handed me a pink heart shaped pillow. (My dad told me the hospital used this heart pillow to cover his chest while he coughed so his stitches wouldn't rupture. I'm about 85% that is not true.) I remember that I cried, but I can't remember whatever emotions my 10 year old self was feeling after that.

I don't have the pink heart anymore. After Uncle Dale died, my dad took me to my aunt's house and I gave her the pillow with tear filled eyes for the both of us. It seemed like, at that time, she should have it.

I'm glad I remembered this yesterday, and I'm glad I wrote it down.