Wacky Wednesday

Author's Note: The following is a collection of real quotations heard in conversation or taken from books over the last month. Some names have been changed to protect the not-so-innocent. <>< Katie

Jennifer: EEEEEKKK! We're going to Nepal!
Katie: No, we're not. We're going to McDonald's.

Grandma: Lord love a duck!

John Boy [to Susie Ann]: That was pretty good for a woman from the North.
Katie: Ouch!
Gavin: You just lost your ghostwriter.
John Boy: No! You aren't from the North.
Katie: I'm practically from Canada.
John Boy: North isn't a place you're from, it's a way you act. You don't act like you're from the North.
Katie: I'm more offended by that because you're telling me I'm untrue to my heritage.
John Boy: No, it's a good thing.
Katie: Just take your soda and go away.
John Boy: Soda! You are from the North.
Gavin: 'Round here we cal it Pepsi.

Mom [to an empty bench]: Why are you smoking?

Katie: You are a good driver.
Nikki: Thanks, that's really affirming to me.
Katie: I know. That's why I keep saying it.
Nikki: Katie saw me when I was in my panicky driver mode. Katie, even though I don't drive the interstate back from Melia's, I know how to do it now. Correctly.
Allyson: Wait. You drove in her panties?

Mara: Down South, they panic and buy bread if the weather gets cold. Up North, we panic, buy buns, and grill out if it gets warm.

[Airport gate kept changing]
Sasha: BINGO!
Mom: There's no "A" in Bingo!
Nikki: Josh Groban, he's like a dramatic singer.

Katie: People need to come up with new encouragement.
Amber: But you're beautiful. No, wait, that's the encouragement for the pregnant not the jobless.
[Go tell a pregnant woman she's beautiful. She probably hasn't been told today].

Katie: I'm trying to talk to Jesus right now.
Stephen: Oh! Sorry!
Katie: It's ok. He forgives you.
Stephen: Oh good.
Katie: I don't.
Stephen: You need to talk to Him a bit more.

Jett: Are you putting that tramp color [eyeliner] on Katie?

Katie: This looks like an EKG.
Amy: Is that a Bible translation?

[Ricky, Garret on the couch]
Rebekah: Man, you guys should eat chocolates together.
Katie: Are you trying to get my pen working?

Grandma: Who are you talking to now?
Katie: No one. I'm making fun of you on the internet. [Twitter]
Jett: Can't we text cute boys instead?

Annie: At some point in life you're going to be acquainted with Vicodin. It's going to be awful, but you'll have to do it.

Rebekah: Don't spill on the carpet or I'll cut your head off.
Jim: You know what? I'm sick of my head anyway.

Grandma: That hurted me.
Katie: [Pointing to my ears] That hurted me too!

"Never let a hurried lifestyle disturb the relationship of abiding in Him." -Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest, Jan. 23

Jett: What smells like bacon?
Mom: My bacon.

Hunter: People from my church call me all the time and leave these long messages so my voicemail fills up after three or four messages. I know they are hurting and they can just say, "Pastor call me back." Instead they go into all these details and the cell phone isn't going to talk back anyway.

Katie: Anyone want anything?
Garret: Water. No ice. No ice!
Katie: Any particular color cup?
Garret: Green if you have it.
Katie: We only have pink.
Garret: Awe man! I don't know if I even want water anymore. Don't give me pink!

Rebekah: When I lift up the couch, look and see if there's anything there.
Katie: There's nothing there.
Rebekah: I have a really good grip. Look again.

Jennifer: I'm so done with homework. I wish I could just grind my teeth! [Beat] Don't quote that because it made no sense.

Jett: Chocolate helps everything.
Christina: Cheese always makes me feel sicker.
Jett: Cheese and chocolate are not the same thing.
Christina: They both have the "Ch" sound!
Mom: That's about it. Cherries. Chimmy chungas. Try those, too.

[Dusk]
Stranger on the Street: Do you have your night-vision goggles on?
Katie: No.
SS: Good girl! [High five. Walking away] No wonder you're in college.

Katie: What should I draw? The verse talks about hospitality.
Amy: Hum... me?
Katie: I'll draw a sun.

Billy Bob: It was funny then. It just makes no sense now.
Katie: Well, I'll just laugh when you walk down the hall.
Billy Bob: [Excited] Would you!? Everyone else does! You'll be part of the crowd.

Jim: You can look up your "god" on the internet all you want, but I'm building a relationship with mine.

Mom: He [Hank the cat] has to keep an eye on you so you don't leave too.
Katie: He's using an eye-tooth rather than an eyeball.
Mom: Whatever works.

Rebekah: I'd rather sleep in Jim's bed than Wes's bed.
Katie: I'd rather sleep in neither.
Rebekah: Well, yes, that would be ideal.

Julie: I don't mind feet in the pool.
Katie: Everything's ok in the pool.
Ricky: Woah! Woah! Woah! That's not a rule of thumb.

Mom: This is what cabin-living is all about: pick up the furniture and move it where you want it.

Katie: Someone just knocked on the door.
Garret: It was Jesus. He's knocking on the door of your heart.
Katie: He's already got the key.
Garret: Maybe there's a deadbolt.
Katie: There are four, and He has those keys too.

Adam: People are like Tootsie Roll Pops, sometimes it takes a few tries to get to their soft center. This doesn't mean go around licking people! It means don't give up.

Wacky Wednesday

Author's Note: The following are quotations taken from real conversations heard, read, or encountered during the month of November. Enjoy!
<>< Katie

Scott: My wife told me we're going baby shopping this afternoon.
Bob: Didn't you already buy one of those?
Scott: Two. We bought two.
Bob: Make sure you save the receipt.
Dawn: Were they on sale?
Katie: Two for the price of one?
Bob: He's an extreme couponer!

Christina: Lady Gaga is a singer.
Dad: Lady Gaga is a nightmare.

Linnea: If my baby is born with a beard, we're switching it in the hospital!

Random Man to Son: You were crying in your apple juice.  Do you know why you were crying in your apple juice?  Because you don't like apple juice.
David: Book! [meaning Writer's Notebook where I keep Wacky Wednesday quotes]
Jocelyn: I like your boob! [She meant book]
David: Book!

Christina: What does the guy from "Sister Wives" put on facebook [for his relationship status]?

Katie: Shaun Groves just Tweeted, "Googling the lyrics to my own dadgum song."
Christina: Who's Lulu?
Katie: What?
Christina: Lulu liked his song? Who's Lulu?

Brent [To some giggly high school girls at a Peder Eide concert]: Go bug Peder. Seriously. It'll take some pressure off of Katie.

[Reading the monthly cell phone bill over dinner]
Dad: Someone spent three dollars downloading a video.
Mom: Wait a second, let me see that, that three dollars was the [Dad's number] guy.
Dad: Oops.
Katie: So what I'm hearing is that Laura's a minutes hog, Mom only texts Christina, Dad buys three dollar videos, and Katie wins with the least usage of everything.
Mom: Yeah, whatever.
Katie: Whatever? I haven't gotten a text message in three days.
Mom: That's because your inbox is full. You need a new phone.

"No matter what this world does, you're valuable. The Lord gives you help for the hurt and hope for the future." - Bob Lenz

[Taking a photo]
Katie: One, two, four.
Peder: Miss Katie, we need to work on your counting.
Katie: I was an English major.

[After I'd been on the phone for twenty minutes]
Grandma: I'm glad she took sign language in college!

[Putting my number in his phone]
Mark: L-A-U-R-A
Katie: Um... I spell my name with a K.

Mom: Here, wear this step stool!
Sparkle the cat: I just did. Why do I have to wear it again?

Laura: Katie! You'll be so proud of me! I played The Alphabet Game yesterday and WON! TWICE!
Katie: Was the other person driving?
Laura: There was no other person.

"Thank You that even in the wilderness You are Emmanuel--God with us." -Tracy

[On facebook]
Andy [to Elizabeth]: I love you!
Katie: I love you, too!
Andy: I think you misspelled two, Katie.
Katie: No, I only love you; not Elizabeth.
Andy: lol I completely saw that going the opposite direction! I love you too, Katie. And so does Elizabeth!
Katie: Success! I love you two and miss you, too!

Bob: Don't complain about being dress size one when I'm a sixteen!

Christina: How was Oscar's [the cat] surprise attack?
Mom: Well, the doctor cut off my wart today.

[Catch Phrase]
Linnea: The continent that--
Katie: Alaska!

Katie: With as little as I listen to the radio, when I know all the words to a song, it's overplayed.
[Laura burst out laughing]
Katie: Um... I didn't think what I said was that funny.
Laura: It wasn't! That... that bar we just... passed... had a... had a toilet... on the front porch!

Mark: I can walk and chew gum at the same time!

[via text]
Katie: I am at the coffee shop actually being productive on a Saturday for once!
Amber: Good for you
Katie: It's because you're not here.
Amber: Haha
Katie: But I am lonely.
Amber: That's why you're actually getting work done.

Jocelyn: They danced funnily.

Katie: Look at how these pants sit on me. If I didn't have my hips right here, they'd just fall right off. If something happened to my hips, I'd never be able to wear pants again... without suspenders.

Greg: We're going to catch a deer then put it in the back of the van and take it to the vet to kill it humanely.

[Mark was walking out of church with three empty cups]
Katie: Were you a little thirsty?
Mark: Yeah. Dehydrated.
Katie: You're going to have to go to the little boys' room.
Mark: No, I already--
Katie: You already went? In church?!
Mark: No. I'm wearing a diaper. [Beat] And you sat next to me. Does that make you uncomfortable?

Mom: Lies!
Laura: I wouldn't lie to you! You're my momma!
Katie: All the more reason to lie to her!

[At small group]
Dustin: No talking about Jesus! It's not allowed.
Katie: I'm not going to be able to come anymore.
Dustin: Wait, what? Why can't you come anymore?!
Katie: Because we can't talk about Jesus.
Dustin: Oh, ok.

Mom: Come here. And don't get excited because I'm asking you to follow me upstairs.
[Dad's face fell]
Mom: The balance ball is NOT a horizontal surface!

Charlie: I have this friend. I don't know if he's alive. I've been checking the obituaries but I haven't found him, so I'm going to call him. I figure if he picks up, that's a good sign.

Lauren: It's the same storyline just with different characters.
David: Twilight?
Drew: No, those are the same characters.

Katie: This shirt kind of makes me look fat.
Mom: Good! Wear it every day!

Hygienist: Do you floss?
Katie: Yes. Not like I should but yes. Especially after I eat popcorn.
Hygienist: Ok, every day at 3:00 you have to eat popcorn.
Katie: That I can do!

"Praise, not perfection. He wants my praise not my perfection." - Ann Voskamp

Peepers the Goose

Grandpa and I were sitting on my Uncle Boris and Aunt Sasha's patio looking over the rolling hills of their farmland, watching the chickens run loose, and Peepers the goose control the roost.

We were teasing about challenging Big "Woman" on Campus Peepers, but we weren't brave enough to actually do it.

Grandma came out.

"Hey, Grandma, go chase Peepers," Grandpa said.

She did.

Grandma ran at Peepers.  Peepers stood still.  Less than three feet from each other, Grandma chickened out, and turned to walk away.

Peepers ran at Grandma.  Grandma screamed.  Uncle Boris came to the rescue.  Grandpa and Katie laughed.

Peepers: 1
Grandma: 0

As The Deer

During our family's annual birthday celebration my grandpa was telling a story about an interaction he and Grandma had with a deer while they were on vacation.

Apparently they were driving down a woodsy neighborhood road and there were some women walking down the street towards the car.  In between their car and the women was a deer.  The deer was focused on the pedestrians, so Grandpa slowed down and approached it as slowly and quietly as they could.

The car got right up next to the deer before the deer took its eyes from the women and noticed Grandpa and Grandma.  Of course, then it took off running.

I can't help but wonder how often we are that deer.  We are the deer focused on what's ahead, the women walking towards us, rather than noticing what's going on around us.

I am that deer.  I'm focused on my future career, job opportunities, and the next step rather than focusing on the here and now.  I'm concerned about what I'm going to be doing when I get back from China rather than focusing on what I'll be doing while in China.

Are you the deer?  Are you looking at what you'll be doing this weekend rather than what you're doing today?  Are you expecting something when God's working in a different way? 

Oh, deer,
<>< Katie

Wacky Wednesday

Christian: The most difficult times are often the most sacred not because of the difficulty we face but because difficulties allow us to more boldly cling to the most sacred thing of all: the hope in Jesus Christ who died, rose, and lives and reigns forever.

Sara: I got disowned by David last night because I haven't seen Star Wars.
Katie: I haven't seen it either.
Sara: David! Katie Ax hasn't seen Star Wars either!
David: But I'm not dating Katie Ax.
Katie: Thank goodness!

Mom: Katie, I wish we had gone to Ruby Tuesday's so you could meet the bartender.  He's really friendly.

E [age 10]: School's hard.  I have lots of homework.
Katie: It's because you're getting closer to The G-word.
E: I want to graduate.  Why don't you want to graduate?
Katie: Well... uh.... It's scary.
E: Is it because you're getting old?
Katie: Yes!  Like your dad! [Neal]


Mom: Do you want sugar in your coffee?
Grandma: Yes, please.
Mom: White or brown?
Grandma: Brown.
Mom: Brown sugar.
Grandma: Oh, no.  White.  I thought you were talking about coffee.
[What's white coffee?]

Katie [running my hand down a photo]: I want to be here.
Jennifer: You are here!
Katie: I mean, in this photo.

Josh: The mark I made on you is still there.  It's like I bought you.
Emily: It's because I don't bathe.

Katie: I really hope that like four years from now when we're not roommates anymore facebook still exists so we can go view our friendship and see these crazy conversations we had with each other from across the room.
Jennifer: We're not going to be friends anymore?
Katie: I said roommates.
Jennifer: Awe, man!  I was getting excited!

John: Even when you get married and have kids.  Not in that order.  Wait.  Yes.  In that order.

Elizabeth: Katie, do you have any stamps?
Katie: Yes.
Elizabeth: And after I use your stamp can I use your mailing service?
Katie: Yes.
[I hand her a roll of stamps.  She looks at them pensively]
Elizabeth: Do I just put one?
Katie: No, you put them all.
Jennifer: You forgot to lick it!

Saxon: Everyone has some singing fish in their closet.

Maegan: Is it Coach K or Coach K-A-Y?  You know, the coach for UNC.
Friend: OH MY GOSH!  He's the coach for Duke!  I disown you!  Don't talk to me for a few hours!

Katie: Cat. Puking. On. Table.

Sara: Why do we say "as"?  There's no z.  I mean, I know the alternative, but why?
David: I think it's an American thing.  My parents don't enunciate the "s" like most people do.
Katie: So it sounds like your parents are swearing at you every time they say "ass"?
David: Wacky Wednesday!

Jennifer: My Bible's really dusty.  That's never a good sign.  But it's because I've been reading my little one.

Katie: I have five pounds of Nicaraguan coffee.
Grandma: Five pounds of McDonalds coffee?

Ashley: For our skit we could sing "A Whole New World" and act out The Little Mermaid in the background.

Katie: Why are there Wheat Thins in our fridge again?
Amy: Apparently Andy's been hanging out with Allyson.
Andy: I didn't do it!  Oh, yeah, I did.  Oops.

Emily: When I'm a doctor I'm only going to treat strep throat and ear infections.
Josh: Good choice, refer out that nasty flu.

Jennifer: Never mind.  Don't worry about it.  I don't understand myself half of the time.
Katie: Good because neither do the rest of us.

Mom: And we'll make Laura's room the bunk room.
Katie: Sure, put my husband and me next to all of the screaming kids.
Mom: Yeah, why not?  Most of them will be yours anyway.

Dr. T: Good thing you didn't get into grad school otherwise we'd have nothing to talk about over lunch.
Katie: I know, we'd have to stare at each other awkwardly.

Katie: I'm getting sick, Jennifer.
Jennifer: Life goes on.

Amy: Pop quiz: what's a noun?
Jennifer: A person, place, or thing.
Amy: What is a pronoun?
Jennifer: Rock, mineral, or vegetable?
Amy: When do you use a comma?
Jennifer: To separate pauses.
Amy: No, clauses.  Nikki, what's eight times eight.
Nikki: Sixzzzzhhhhzzzhhhhugh grunt.
Katie: Sixty-Four.
[pause]
Nikki: It is sixty-four!  I knew it was sixty-four!

Mom: You speak lots of tongues, shut up.
Katie: I don't remember "shut up" in the Bible.

[Getting in the car]
Jennifer: Elizabeth!  Sit next to me!
Andy: Nikki! Sit next to me!
Katie: No one wants me to sit by them.
Andy: Katie, you can walk.
Elizabeth: Andy!
Andy: --walk over here and hug me while I hold this door open for you.

B [age 5]: Let's get him!
College Girls: With that?
B: Weapons!
CG: What kind of weapons?
B: Fake weapons!

Bob Lenz: Worship is not supposed to be our service.  Service is supposed to be our worship.

"Everyone Needs Compassion"

"Daddy, what were your five compassionate things you did today?"  I asked.  Dad was getting ready for bed, and I was sprawled out on his bed with a book.  I wasn't moving until I got an answer.

Dad: Helping people get on the elevator.
Katie: Did you really help people on the elevator today or are you making that up?
Dad: Actually, I helped THREE people onto the elevator today, so that's three things.
Katie: No, "Helping three people on the elevator" is one thing.  What are the other four?
Dad: Um... calling Grandma and Grandpa.  Calling Laura.  Um... Four... Kissing in public.
He walked over to Mom, gave her a hug and a kiss, and smirked at me.  Then he came over and gave me a kiss.
Dad: Five!  Now get off my bed.

I called him lame, but I did move.  He asked my five compassionate things for the day, and I gave an equally lame list.

Compassion: a deep awareness for others' hurting and acting upon those sympathies.

I'm pretty sure kissing doesn't count.

Compassion is risking your arm in an elevator door to ensure someone in a wheel chair has ample time to get on board.  Compassion is letting someone cut you in line because she has a screaming child who needs a nap.  Compassion is smiling at the waiter even when he brought you the wrong kind of wine.

Everyone needs compassion.  Did you hear me?  Everyone needs compassion.  Not just those you think are deserving of it.  Not just those who cross your path when you're in a good mood.  Everyone.

It's hard.  Very hard.  But let's work on it together.

So, friends, I ask you the same thing, what were your five compassionate things for today?  How did you show or receive compassion today?

<>< Katie

"Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you." Ephesians 4:32

Wacky Wednesday

Katie: Sometimes broken things are worth keeping.
Nikki: Like us.

Sara: I'm going to lick Cinderella's castle.
Heather: Or you could lick Mickey's butt.  Or you could lick the trash can Goofy touched.  Or you could lick the road where everyone walks.  Or you could lick David's face.  Do all of these sound ridiculous?  So does licking Cinderella's castle!

Katie: Go outside by the puke.
Andy: You want us to buy you some puke?  That's a waste of money.  We could just produce it naturally for you.
Katie: If I ever need any puke, you'll be the first person that I call.
[Elizabeth and Andy kiss loudly]
Katie: I have my own naturally-produced puke now.  Thank you.

Elizabeth: Jennifer!  Do not chip clip your eyelashes!

Nikki: Katie, I'm pretty sure you're one-fourth dog.  I'm going to get a dog whistle just to annoy you because I'm sure you'll hear it.

Katie: Dork.
Jennifer: I'm not a dork.
Katie: "Dork" is a term of endearment just like sassing is a love language.
Jennifer: A dorking is a pigeon with five toes.
Katie: I've also heard a dude is an infected hair on an elephant's butt, but I don't believe that either.
Jennifer: [laughing hysterically] Allyson!  Come here, dude!
[She proceeded to call everyone a dude and laughed all night]

Andy [making lunch for our student teachers]: Do you want ketchup or grape jelly?
Amy: A mix of both.
Andy: Don't tempt me.
Amy: Andy, I like my sandwich cut in the same of animals.
Elizabeth: I like mine cut like monuments.
Andy: Amy, yours are cut like quadrilaterals.

Jennifer: I wish I could buy an eraser just to erase things.

Eva: She's high maintenance.
Evan: That's my fiance she's talking about.
Katie: Are you going to let her talk that way about your fiance?
Evan [with pride]: I like maintaining her.

Katie: I'm studying English, Spanish, and American Sign Language.  This summer I'm going to China.
Josh: You realize none of those languages are going to help you in China, right?

Hannah: What's Katie's last name?  Axelson or Axelton?
Matthew: Have you seen Katie?!  It's not AxelTON.

Jennifer: I could be like a hamster and stick the candy in my cheeks, take it up to my tower, and eat it there!

Grandma: Yeah, we had burnt carrots--
Grandpa: --We had burnt carrots, burnt broccoli, and burnt offerings...

Jennifer: Katie, if I finished your sentences they'd start with words and end with numbers.

Danielle: I don't know how to wrestle Katie.  I'm afraid I'm going to break her in half!
Katie: I told you, she could lift me with two fingers: it's not a fair fight.
[Later I was wrapped around her body and she was standing and spinning]
Jo: Oh!  Don't hurt her head!
Katie: But it's ok to hurt the rest of me?

Nikki: Sometimes I just really don't think it's fair that I  am so blessed with so many of you wonderful girls in my life when there are lonely people in this world. [beat] Maybe I should start pawning you off to lonely people. [beat] Katie, you're first!

Katie: The sauce-dressing stuff on this salad is so thick and overpowering that I can't tell what's chicken and what's a crouton.
Josh: I feel like that may be the point.

Jennifer: BRRRR!
Nikki: I'm sobrrrr!
Katie: I'm not.

Nikki: Andy, the word "sloughing" is in this book.  And I used it today.
Andy: In a periodical sense?

[In the coffee shop, Amber's giving the attention wave to her computer.  She was watching a video.  Entire conversation in ASL]
Katie: Are you talking to yourself?
Amber: No, I'm in class, and I'm copying the teacher.
Katie: Why?
Amber: Because it's fun.
Katie: So you are talking to yourself.  Or you're four.  Which?
Amber: That one! [the four]

Katie: Ladies, you crack me up!
Jennifer: Oh, do you need some glue?

Dr. D: I never sneeze in dark rooms.

Jennifer and Allyson: Do you need anything from the store or the bank or the coffee shop?
Katie: I mean, if the bank is giving out free samples, I'll take some.

Lauren: Oh, man!  This scratch paper she gave us is so big and antique-looking.  It intimidated me.  I had to get a piece of scratch paper for my scratch paper.

Jennifer: I don't want to go to dinner.  I forfeit dinner.

[Andy was studying.  I was reading with my head in Amy's lap; Amy was studying]
Andy: Katie, you have a laceration on the occipital portion of your head.
Katie: Amy, I'm sorry I'm bleeding to death in your lap.
Amy [pulling away]: WHAT?!

Jennifer [singing]: Holy, holy, holy!
Katie [spoken]: Can I finish my story?  Lord God Almighty.

Dr. H [female]: This is my stun gun. POW!
Matthew: Don't taze me, bro!

Jonathan Martin: When the Spirit is working, there is a strange cocktail of supernatural boldness and awareness of my fragility.  It's like His calling card.

Wacky Wednesday- Friday Edition

Christina: Will it go on your blog?
Katie: You betcha.
Mom: On Wacky Wednesday?
Katie: Yup.  I haven't had a Wacky Wednesday in awhile.
Mom: What?!  You've been with your family!  How could you NOT have a Wacky Wednesday?
Katie: I have plenty of quotes for a Wacky Wednesday, but I haven't written one.
Christina: Have a Friday Edition of Wacky Wednesday.
Mom: On Thursday!
Katie: It seems only appropriate since I have no idea what day of the week it is anyway.

Mom: Ooooh!  I'm a trash compactor and I can vacuum seal the bag!

Dad: How did I get in this family?
Auntie Gwennie: Better question: how do I get out?

Katie: We're lost... outside (without the car)... in Minnesota... in January!  All because Mom wanted seafood... in Minnesota... in January!  It might be August before I warm up!

Mom: Then we can go to Denise and Greg's, and Greg can do the photo shoot in his... jammies.
Laura: As long as he doesn't sleep naked.

Auntie Gwennie: Doesn't iron give you energy or something?
Uncle Bill: Tina, you've taken anatomy.  Is that true?
Christina: Well, we studied iodine.

Mom [making white frosting]: There's something green in here.  Oh, and red.  Who put jimmies in my frosting?
Katie: Jimmy!  Get out of the frosting!
Laura: Jimmy want to go in the frosting for a swim.
Katie: No, Jimmy licks the frosting.
Mom: Grandpa!
[Grandpa Jim taught my sisters and me to steal frosting from a cake without anyone noticing]

Dad:  What's wrong?  Why are you up so early?
Katie: It's ten-thirty, eleven-thirty to my body.
Dad: That's it.

Aunt Denise: Gail!  You can't give him a present just because it says his name!
Mom: It says his name, just in the wrong spot!

Dad: Get naked and give me twenty.
Uncle Jay: I am not getting naked in front of you!  And I'm not giving you twenty bucks either for that matter.

Mom: I will not put the Advent candles on Christina's birthday cake!

Katie: Ok, Daddy, I'm ready!  I'm even wearing Grandma's long underwear.  Where'd you go?
Dad: I'm hiding!

Mom: Do you want a poker stick to get the Christmas lights all the way up there?
Dad: I don't need a poker stick.  I have Katie!

I was startled out of dream world by Laura's shouting.
Laura: That's ok; she loves me!
Without opening my eyes I knew--much to my dismay--that I was the she.
Katie: No she doesn't!
That wasn't going to stop her.  When my bedroom door flew open, I threw my pillow over my face. There was no way to avoid whatever I was about to be the victim of, but my pillow would protect my face as I prayed for the best.  Laura crawled on top of me in bed.  Between the two of us, we make a normal-sized person, but that doesn't mean I like to be on the bottom of our person.
Laura: Katie, give me a hhhhhhhhug!

Mom [to Dad]: Do not pants your daughter!

Laura: Mom, I saw an animal outside.
Mom: What kind of animal was it?
Laura: Um... a giant white gerbil with a raw tail.
Mom: An opossum.

Man at Quiznos: Chips?
Mom: No, thanks.
Man: Beer, bourbon, scotch?
Mom: Oooh! Scotch, please.

Ben: Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Ax.  Sorry in advance for drinking all of your milk.
He and three friends (the one other male among them being lactose intolerant) were here thirty-six hours, and they drank three gallons of milk.

Christina: Katie, what are you going to do when you're married?
Katie: Have kids.
Christina: And make them empty the dishwasher? Even your one year old? Does he have to empty the dishwasher?
Katie: It's a she.
Christina: And your three month old? Does she have to empty the dishwasher, too?
Katie: Yeah, he gets the plates up to the top shelf without needing any help. Wait a second! Why do I have a one year old and a three month old? Oh boy!
Mom: Adoption.
Christina: Your husband was married before. Katie got a used one!

Marathon Christmas

I grew up thinking this was normal.  I grew up thinking a lot of things were normal, myths my roommates have quickly dispelled.  You mean everyone doesn't have four Christmas trees and a 30-hour Christmas?  I supposed now you're going to tell me everyone has more than three cousins, too, right?

Christmas Eve
3:00pm- "Get in the car now!"

4:00pm- We start Christmas where all Christmases should begin: in church.  We pass the bulletin from one end of the pew to the other, share notes, and split a half a piece of gum thirteen ways.  You think I'm kidding.

6:00pm- "And WHY are you snow blowing in your Christmas suit?"
All thirteen of my maternal side of the family is gathered in my aunt and uncle's kitchen.  We're munching on meatballs, shrimp, and the world famous cheese dip.  We need something in the stomachs as we begin a long night of alcohol consumption.

7:00pm- "Maybe we should open presents." 
"Yes, that bow is beautiful on your head." 
"What kind of tape did you use?  It's impossible to rip!"

8:00pm- Grandpa and Grandma get a fifteen minute head start (we even use the microwave timer) to light candles and turn on lights before the entire party mobilizes to Grandpa and Grandma's house.  We open presents first from my grandparents and second from my aunt and uncle from out of town.

9:00pm- Grandpa and Grandma serve us pizza subs on paper plates just to have some substance during our night of grazing.  "Sure, I'd love some blackberry wine."

10:00pm- My family's turn for the fifteen minute head start.  There are advantages and disadvantages to being the last house in the round-robin.  The biggest disadvantage is that the hair and makeup need remedial help before the photograph in front of the tree.

11:00pm- "Who wants to be Santa?"

12:00am- Grandpa and Grandma decide it's time to go home.

1:00am- "Someone has to eat my food!"

2:00am- We karate chop the remaining family out of here, clean up the kitchen, and set up for the morning.  Time for bed!

For the next four to six hours visions of sugar plums dance in our heads while Santa flies over head.

Christmas Day
8am- "Santa's been here!"

9am-  The family gift exchange and Santa presents are opened on Christmas morning.  Dad gets coal.  And the grille to go with it.  Mom cries when she opens the puzzle photo collage of my sisters and me growing up.  My flannel jeans from Cabela's miraculously fit!  "Dad, I got you a six pack of beer just because I can.  No, I don't want one." 

10am- "Get in the car!  We're late!"

11am- "Are we there yet?"

12pm- Growing up, my family was always the last to arrive at my paternal grandparents' house.  Some traditions die hard.  Christmas dinner will be served at two.  I regret not eating more than a banana for breakfast and dive into the chips, fudge, and pie on the kitchen table.

1pm- I'm in a photo war with Travel Buddy, my uncle who's a professional photographer.  I take literally 178 photos.

2pm- The Charlie Brown Tree. 
Every year my grandparents go to the tree farm and find the most ridiculous tree in the $5 bin.  It's too thick to put ornaments on it.  It's so thin you can see through it.  It has two tops.  They then barter until the owner lets them buy the tree for $3.  They give him a $2 tip.  This year the tree branches needed to be transplanted, so they got it for $2 with a $1 tip.  Remember, the camera adds ten pounds.

3:00pm- "This restaurant is only open twice a year, so you'd better dig in!"
Thanksgiving dinner is remarkably similar to Christmas dinner.  The main difference is that the men are actually allowed to sit in the dining room with the women rather than being banished to the kitchen.  We pass rolls by overhand tossing, make the misbehaving adults sit at the children's table, and, heaven forbid, we forget the olives.

5:00pm- Photo shoot! 
Each family.  "At least pretend like you like each other."  All the girls.  All the boys.  "Stop that!"  Three generations.  "Where'd Grandpa go now?"  All the granddaughters.  All eleven of us.  The stray people we picked up on the street.  All dogs.  "Ok, my camera's memory card is full."

6:00pm- "Yes, I'd like a brandy old fashion, please.  We're going to be here for awhile."
Commence the longest present opening extravaganza in the history of present openings.  Grandma hands the first present to Tina.  Tina opens it, throws the wrapping paper on the floor, and examines it for fifteen and a half seconds before she must stand to pick and hand out the next present.  If she surpasses her allotted fifteen and a half seconds, the entire crowd shouts, "PICK A PRESENT!"

7:00pm- Fifteen minute intermission to fill the glasses and empty the bladder.

7:15pm- "Pick a present!"

8:00pm- "PICK A PRESENT!"
Every year Grandma and Grandpa give each of their four grandkids a gold ornament engraved with our names, the year, and "Love, Gma & Gpa."  After twenty-some years, Wal-mart stopped making the ornaments, so Grandma had to get creative.  This year she bought some silver ones from Target and engraved them herself.

9:00pm- "Pick a present" brouhaha is finally over after three hours of present opening!  Grandma and the four granddaughters sit in the heaps of wrapping paper for the annual photo.  Grandma boasts that she is 71 and can still get down on the floor.  We help her up.

10:00pm- Grandma asks who brought the iPod for the traditional Christmas Day dancing in the kitchen.  No one has music; no one has the energy to dance.  The men are Wii bowling in the kitchen.  Grandpa's winning.  "That's an awful nice purple dress you've got there, Jim," Greg says, and the crowd rolls.  Grandpa's using my Mii.

11:00pm- The food comes back out for those who are hungry.  I eat some cherry pie, little smokies, sweet potatoes, and fudge.  In that order.  "Shhhhh!  Someone may be sleeping."

12:00am- That someone should be me.  But we're having too much fun retelling old stories, hacking up lungs, and laughing hysterically.

1:00am- That someone is me.  It's the only night of the year when I can sleep with socks on because of the heat problems in the old farmhouse.  Yet I sleep with a smile on my face.  Another great Christmas!

I love hearing about Christmas traditions.  What are yours?

<>< Katie

The Christmas Miracle

Our motto for this family get together has been, "It's a Christmas miracle!"  The pants I bought you actually fit?  It's a Christmas miracle!  You guys made it here safely through the snow?  It's a Christmas miracle!  You found some extra dipping sauce in the back of the fridge?  It's a Christmas miracle!

It's been a bit overkill.  Don't get me wrong, I love acknowledging everyday miracles but "Christmas Miracle" is kind of a term already on reserve.

A few days before Christmas 2006, we received a phone call from my grandma.  Our family friend Arnie, 81, had a seizure during dinner.  He vomited, aspirated, and earned himself a flight for life ride to the intensive care unit.

While the rest of the world was preparing for a joyful holiday, we were preparing for the worst.  Decisions were to be made on December 26.  The decision was that life support would be terminated the following day after everyone had the opportunity to say goodbye to a warm hand. 

The following morning, my dad received a wake-up call asking him to make the drive to be with them.  While he was showering my grandma called back.  She had to hand the phone to my grandfather because she was crying too hard to talk to my mom.  They were tears of joy.  Arnie was awake, sitting up, and by that afternoon he was asking for a drink.

Arnie lived for eight more months before he passed away peacefully.  There was no reason he should have survived that December.  His funeral was planned!  Even my agnostic grandparents admitted it was a Christmas Miracle.

Sometimes God works in life-saving miracles and sometimes He works through everyday miracles.  The question becomes, will we acknowledge them?

I pray you all had a miraculous Christmas, my friends.

<>< Katie

That's My Daddy

Every Christmas my entire extended family worships together to start our Christmas Eve brouhaha.

As a toddler, I would walk between the knees of my relatives and the pew in front of us.  One of my uncles, neither will fess up to being the culprit but it could have feasibly been either one, handed me a piece of paper and told me to take it to my other uncle.

I looked down at the piece of paper, recognized a big "D" scribbled and loudly proclaimed, "That's my daddy!"

The paper really said, "Dork."

Yeah, church was pretty much over for my family at that point in time.
Happy Monday!
<>< Katie

Christmas Wishes from the Fire Department

Somewhere between ten and eleven on Sunday night reality hit.  It was bedtime and we still had "miles to go before [we] sleep and miles to go before [we] sleep."  Three hours worth of miles.

I offered to switch and drive for awhile, but Amber pointed out that might be futile since I was yawning too.  She said she'd just curl up and go to sleep rather than keep me awake, but I wouldn't fall asleep while she was driving.  Probably true.  A few days earlier we'd learned the hard way that her reaction time is good even when she's tired.

Hit was a sudden, God-send burst of energy, I began the most animated, elaborate retelling of one of my favorite Christmas Eve stories. Followed by three hours worth of other stories, laughter, and no yawns at all. 

It was Christmas Eve afternoon and I was almost done getting ready for the traditional brouhaha when the smoke detector went off.

As a teenager, what to do in case of a fire had been drilled into my head.  I went out the garage door and passed both cars in the garage.  I found out later that my sisters were in the car ready to go, unaware that the smoke detector was going off.  When I rounded the house and headed towards our "meeting place" I realized there is a flaw in our plan: snow makes the meeting place hard to get to.  But it didn't matter because I saw both of my parents just chilling in the kitchen.

I opened the backdoor and walked back in.  Apparently my mom had spilled something in the oven earlier in the day and wanted to clean it out before everyone came over.  She used the self-cleaner oven feature for the first time and it set the smoke detector off.  Other than a hazy house, everything was fine.

The security system on our house is supposed to call the police if our house is broken into and fire department if the smoke detector goes off.  We were literally five minutes away from leaving for six hours.  We didn't want to come home (with the entire extended family fifteen minutes behind us) to discover our door had been broken down because we didn't answer.

Dad called the non-emergency fire department number to tell them everything was fine.

Fireman: Since you called, we have to send a truck out.

Great.  Although, we later learned if the security system had called they would have sent trucks from two different stations because we're right in the middle between the two.  As it were, the other station got an ambulance call around the same time.  I like to think that in inconveniencing ourselves we saved a life.  Whatever, Katie.

Anyway.  Fire truck came.  Big flashing lights.  Alarmed neighbors called.  Firemen stood in the back hall and listen to our crazy story.  They didn't even go into the kitchen!  They left.  Dad called the security system people to make sure the fire department isn't going to be called again.  Ultimately, against their advice, he disconnected our security system.

We showed up to my aunt and uncle's church a half hour late.  My cousin's choir, the reason we were going to church there, was returning to their seats.  We did make the pastor's day because the sanctuary was full, so they put seats in the atrium for us.  This is why we don't save seats on Christmas Eve anymore.  You never know when some firemen are going to make you late to church.

After church we began our normal round-robin at my aunt and uncle's house.  Food, drinks, presents, cookies, moving on.  The entire party of 13 journeyed to my grandparents' house for a repeat.  Food, drinks, presents, cookies, moving on.

Our house was the last in our parade.  We are also the only house with a functioning fire place.  My uncle from out of town wanted to roast chestnuts over our fire.  It made the kitchen a little smokey, but we didn't think anything of it.

Until my aunt shouted, "FIRE IN THE OVEN!"

Some bread dish--the same dish that had spilled earlier--was literally flaming inside of our oven.  That's bad.  One uncle grabbed a hot pad, pulled out the pan, and held it over the sink.  The other uncle blew out the flames.  Dad took the scorched pan and threw it in a snowbank in the back yard where it stayed for the next three days.

Of course, the fire alarm went off again and the house is full of smoke.  For the second time that day we opened all of the windows to let the frigid winter air into our home and the smoke out into the world.  I'm pretty sure the temperature in my kitchen was below freezing that Christmas.  I camped out in the basement, the warmest place in the house.

No more chestnuts roasting over an indoor fire.  No more flaming bread dish.  Just a great Christmas tale.  And a year full of photos with the fire extinguisher in them.

About a week later my mom's oven still needed to be cleaned.  So she set the self-cleaner again and opened the kitchen window.  She was on the phone with my aunt when she heard sirens in our area.  It's not really that uncommon because there are two deadly traffic corners within a mile of our house.  Except this was a fire engine siren.  Getting closer.  And closer.  And closer.

Mom: I've got to go.  That firetruck is coming down our street.

It stopped two houses away where they had a small electrical fire.

I hope this Christmas there are no unexpected guests.  Especially those that drive a big red vehicle and wear yellow suits.  Happy December First!

<>< Katie

Give Thanks

"Happy Thanksgiving," said the man on the other end of the phone.  Those two words caught my off guard and it wasn't just because the phone was answered on the first ring.

Every holiday my dad answers the phone by wishing the caller a happy day.  Happy Thanksgiving.  Merry Christmas.  Happy New Year.  Happy Labor Day... you get the idea.  I've listened to him do this all my life, but we've always been on the same side of the phone.

"Happy Thanksgiving," I choked back.

Two words was all he needed to recognize my voice, and I heard the smile in his.  For the next hour we played "Pass the phone" with my nine relatives.

I was told that this year our family was not separated by gender.  Instead of men in the kitchen and women in the dining room, all nine of them fit around the dining room table.  Somebody got the bright idea that they should all share something they're thankful for.  I'm thankful I wasn't there for Sap Fest.

Christina: I'm thankful for Jesus.
Aunt: I'm thankful for our family and that we don't fight.
Uncle: [to my aunt] I'm thankful we're not facebook friends.
Grandma: I'm thankful we're all alive and here and...
Mom: I'm thankful Laura loves her college, and they were able to "unbreak" our dog.
Dad: I'm thankful we're all healthy. [insert sappy sermon here]
Grandpa: I'm thankful for your momma and that she puts up with me.  I love her.

I've never heard my grandparents express love to each other.  Love pats here and there but sassiness is more common.  For my grandfather to compliment my grandmother and say he loves her in front of all of those people made Grandma cry.  I've seen the video to prove it.

How was your Thanksgiving this year?  Was it the typical sweet potatoes, turkey, and pumpkin pie?  Was it merely a the precursor to Christmas?  Or was it really a time of reflection and thankfulness? 

My friend Caitlin is extending Thanksgiving for a year.  For the next 365 days she's going to share something she's thankful for.  I'd love to be able to do the same thing.  Look at every day with the realization that I do have something to be thankful for.

Even when it rains.  Even when my suitemates pick on me.  Even when my computer refuses to cooperate.

I still can be thankful.  I can still tell someone I am thankful for their influence in my life.  Thankful for their love.  Their smile.  Their encouraging word.

I can tell Christ I am thankful for His sacrifice.  Thankful for His love.  Thankful for His controlling, disciplining hand.

I wasn't going to post about being thankful.  After all, it's Thanksgiving.  That's kind of the cliche thing to do, right?  Wrong.  It's something we need to do more often than we do.  Not just on the fourth Thursday of November.  Be thankful around the year.

Cyber friends, I am thankful for you.

<>< Katie

The Birthday Bash

My extended family of thirteen took our annual birthday celebration on the road to a cabin in a world where pine trees are planted in perfect rows, motels pride themselves on having cable tv and air conditioning, and the nearest town had a high school but no grocery store.  I've written two blog posts about our journey but both left me with a "Who cares?" feeling.  So I'm going to try something a little different.  Let me know if you like it or not. 

<>< Katie

(Most photo credits belong to Laura but some are mine and some Mom's)

One day we went tubing and kayaking down the river.  We were expecting a two-hour adventure, but it really took upwards of four.  The beer cooler got its own tube, but we forgot to pack food.  I felt like a message in a bottle; except at one point I was being blown upstream rather than down.

We had four dogs with us.  This is Holly, Queen of the World.  I was less than thrilled when she decided I needed a wake-up kiss on my nose at 8am...

Cassie, my family's dog, seems to think eating is optional.  Before we left, my aunt looked up the nearest animal ER: twenty-one minutes away.  She forgot to look up a people ER.  We teased there we were so much in the middle of nowhere that there was no 911.  That joke was a whole lot funnier before we had an incident when calling 911 would have been appropriate.

One uncle tried to make a pudgy pie with no spray and only one piece of bread.  I'm glad I caught the novice... crisis adverted.

Dad: Breakfast is always good when it involves a hammer.  Katie!  Write that one down.

My uncle walked in one afternoon and found my male cousin painting my sister's toenails.  My uncle laughed at my cousin.  Personally, I think painting fingernails and braiding hair are two life-skills that boys should have.  My uncle--who has a wife but no children--claimed he could braid hair, so I let him try.  It took two tries before he got this in my head but gave up before he had to use a ponytail holder... hence the twisty stolen from the bread bag.

My favorite thing: fire

Laura's favorite thing: feet

(both sarcastic)

Grandpa: What do you guys have against feet?  Feet are wonderful people!

Wacky Wednesday

Let's face it: we all say funny stuff.  Sometimes it made sense in our heads and didn't come out correctly, sometimes it didn't make sense inside and still came out, and sometimes it's only funny when plucked from context. 
<>< Katie

Chris: If you're going to call 9-1-1, you should take a picture first.
Katie: I'm not going to use that as a rule of thumb, but if it involves Big Foot, then I definitely agree.

Mom: Your parents are in a tornado warning, by the way.
Dad: My parents?  Do they know that?

Elizabeth: I wonder if I can do that (she ran her hand along the hairdo on a magazine model)
Katie: You should try it.
Elizabeth: I might need to borrow your head.

Laura: My elbow hurts.  No it doesn't.  I just felt like saying that.

Jay: Abs of steel!  Grunt!  Oh, don't do it.

Gwen: Where was I?  Why was I here eating cake?

I was sitting in my room reading a book, as I had been for the last several hours. Laura burst in (without knocking) to tell me about a conversation she thinks she overheard.
Christina: Katie smells like sesame chicken.
Mom: Katie is sesame chicken.
Thanks. Thanks a lot.

Mom: Get your toe-jams out of my armpit!

[Dad has Katie in a headlock]
Dad: You're getting too old for this.
Katie: No, you're getting too old for this.

Christina: Mom, when's my ortho appointment?
Mom: Ortho?  You mean dentist appointment.
Christina: Whichever one is to get rid of my big jumble of guts.
Mom: Most people call them wisdom teeth.

Dad: Brett, look at the back of your dad's head, Ryan's dad's head, and my head.  How do you think that happened?
Brett [age 13]: Too many noogies.
Dad: Who is the noogie loser?

I had just done a Margarita with a Twist (a flip) into our pool, and it messed up my contacts.
Katie: Woah, y'all are blurry.
Christina: Do you want my noodle?  Here!
Katie: Funny thing, I don't need to be able to see to tread water, but thanks.

Bryce [age 15, practically my cousin]: Katie, come to the park with us!  We'll find cute boys.
(a few hours later)
Bryce:  I got this for you.  It's a friendship for life bracelet.  (He put a glow stick around my wrist)
Katie: Thanks!  I didn't need to go to the park to find cute boys.

Mom: Fireflies are good bugs.
Grandma: They're even better rings!
(She killed a lightning bug and stuck it's butt on her ring finger... she then said it was even prettier than the diamond Grandpa bought for her).

Godspeed and Good Luck

"One Sunday afternoon in June, you'll walk across a stage and I'll hand you a diploma" the headmaster of our school told us for years.  For me, that one Sunday afternoon in June came three years ago.  For Laura, it was yesterday.

At my graduation, tears welled up in my eyes but not until I sat down, diploma in hand.  I kept a smile, and they never leaked out, but my family in the front row knew exactly what was happening.

For Laura's graduation, the tears appeared as soon as I walked into the gym where I recognized the set and the colored lines on the floor underneath it all.  Again, I kept a smile and the water in my eyes but it was like someone hit me upside the head with emotion all of the sudden.

We took our seats in the back row and I fought to regain my composure.  Before this one, every graduation we have purchased front row tickets at an auction.  This year, my parents were competing with the wealthiest family in our town.  She owns a company that probably affects your everyday life.  He owns a professional sports team.  There was no possible way Dad was winning those tickets.  Instead, we took our seats in the back.  At first we were worried about photos, but then I pointed to the end of our row: Uncle Greg.  Tucked safely under his arm was the expensive camera of this professional photographer.  We'd have photos from Laura's one Sunday afternoon in June, that's for sure.

The ceremony began with the graduates lining the aisle to applaud the faculty as they progressed into the seats that faced the audience.  The graduates double back and sit in front of the faculty.  At the end of the ceremony, the faculty progress out first, lining the aisle to applaud the newest batch of alumni.  It's a special moment and a powerful tradition.

A more powerful moment and special tradition is that parents who are on the board or staff of the school are given the opportunity to call their graduate's name.  For Laura and I, this meant we received our high school diplomas directly from the hand of our father.  For Dad, this means he writes our names on his hand, so he doesn't forget what he's going to say (and then hopes he doesn't sweat it off).  A friend's father took a photo of me hugging my father on the stage.  It's a photo I cherish.  I tried to do the same for Laura and was successful, but it's less than perfect quality.

An equally important photo to me is one of me in my robe with all four of my grandparents standing beside me.  Sure, Boppy's sticking out his tongue (he refuses smile for photos, isn't that right, Boppy?), and Grandma's looking the wrong direction.  But it's still the five of us, healthy and happy.  Even though it's been three years since that one Sunday afternoon in June, that's still my desktop photo on my computer.  I was too busy talking to Brian (my favorite advisor) to know if Laura got that same photo, but even if she didn't: we're still some of the lucky ones.  Lucky enough to have our parents still married.  Lucky enough to have four living grandparents.  Lucky enough to have our aunts, uncles, and cousins take time out of their busy schedules to sit through a two-hour graduation ceremony celebrating our achievement.  Lucky and blessed beyond belief.

As I looked around at the rest of Laura's graduating class, I realized not everyone was so lucky.  Some of them come from broken homes, incomplete homes.  One of her classmates lost an older brother a few years ago.  Two classmates who graduated from a different school, lost their older brother.  The class as a whole hasn't been so lucky either.  In eight grade, they lost one of their own to leukemia.  Two years ago, a classmate committed suicide. 

For some, one Sunday afternoon in June is a day that never comes.  For some, it is an end, a goal achieved. For some, it is expected.  Either way, it is a milestone and everyone who meets it deserves a pat on the back.  A sad ending to the book of high school but a great beginning of the future.  For Laura and I, that has meant a move to a small, out-of-state college.  For others, it means something else.  It is s time to be celebrated (but tears are expected).  Godspeed and good luck.

Well done, graduates!
<>< Katie

PS: I kind of rambled today... sorry.  Thanks for reading!

The Pledge

I was already wearing khaki pants when I pulled on the gray polo with my alma mater's name embroidered on it.  I grabbed the navy blue polar fleece pull-over just in case the temperature dropped.  As I was walking out the door, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and couldn't help but laugh.  For years I complained about wearing a uniform to school every day and now here I am, years later, putting it on by choice.  At least it wasn't Friday.  It must be the private school advantage: we know how to dress ourselves in red, white, and blue.

Just for kicks and giggles, I contemplated writing the Honor Code on the top of my test.  "I pledge I will not lie, cheat, or steal.  Nor will I tolerate those who do."  For nine long years "I pledge..." was written at the top of every test I took accompanied by my signature that sometimes included all of the letters to my name.

Now, here I am, years removed from the pledge, the uniform, and the salmon colored bricks, yet they are forcing their way back into my life one collared polo at a time.  Some habits die hard, I guess.  However, it dawned on me today that it's all a lie.  I cheat.  I steal.  I tolerate it from myself and from others.

I am a writer.

I stretch the truth or make it up completely, I steal material from every day conversations, and I tolerate this only because I am a writer; this is what I'm paid to do.  Lying, cheating, and stealing are encouraged.

Eves drop.  Put something in your purse that doesn't exactly belong there (as long as it's only words, Grandma!). Let the tales of others appear in your work.  Don't feel bad about it.  After all, "The Code's more like guidelines than actual rules."

Ok, maybe that's a bit of hyperbole.  That doesn't mean real life is off-limits.  For example, a green laser was repeatedly shot across campus and directly into my eyes apartment this evening.  It gave me a nice headache.  When I write about this, the owner of the green laser pointer will be strangled and his laser buried at the bottom of the lake.  Just sayin'.

Lie, cheat, and steal material in the name of fiction.  Ok, I promise I won't do it while wearing the plaid skirt that makes me look like a Catholic school girl.

<>< Katie

Pageant Prayer

Remember from last week the Post-It notes in bathrooms and the idea that the strive for beauty should not consume your every being? I wish I could have printed that blog and have a handwritten Post-It to give to every girl in this hotel.

This past weekend my grandma, two aunts, mother, sister, and I had a Girls' Weekend. As we enjoyed our pasta dinner late on Saturday night, there were two tables occupied in the entire restaurant. Ours, the six of us in comfortable clothes, minimal make-up, and freshly pedicured toes. And theirs, the beauty queens dressed to the hilt competing in a teen pageant and their accompanying flamboyant male friends.

Despite both being tables primarily filled with women, there were striking differences between the two. We discussed frivolous things like butt germs, pit chips, the history of deodorant, and doofus-ness. They discussed important matters, reapplied make-up, and nodded politely to one another. We waiting patiently for the waitress before we ordered our traditional trip diet of pancakes and pasta; they chased her down before having a special request with every order. My grandmother chastised me for my poor posture and flat hair; every detail of these women was scrutinized.

Every time I glanced towards their table I saw the same thing: a plastered smile flanked by over-treated hair. However, in one girl in particular did not seem to follow the trend. Rather, beneath the layers of make-up, her face showed defeat, exhaustion, and sadness.

Excuse me, ma'am, I said to her in my head. Your fake-smile is accompanied by a deep sadness in your eyes. You're trying to hide it under all of those layers of make-up, but you're not successful.

In the conversation in my mind, the sad girl explained she'd just lost the tiara. It seemed plausible. Maybe she'd risked everything to be here once more before she out-grew the age bracket and led the stiff competition before losing the tiara at the last final moment. Except it led me to wonder if others were more successful in hiding behind their facades. Was it possible that all of these girls were screaming for help?

A few summers ago, I worked with several pageant girls. I heard them talk about the rigors of their chosen lifestyle. They eat, sleep, and breathe pageants; most of them love it. The strict diet, the close relationships with their tailor, and the drama all included. It blows my mind. Knowing how self-conscious I became merely sharing a hotel restaurant with these pageant people I cannot imagine the pressure required to sit at that table. Those high heels hurt my feet, and I’m not even wearing them.

That does not mean I look down my nose at them in disgust.

Pageant girls, I admire your dedication. Your willingness to sacrifice everything to fulfill a dream.

I want that.
Except I don’t want my goal to be a diamond-filled tiara. Rather, I want six simple words. “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

<>< Katie

PS: What's a Girls' Weekend without a good quote?
Grandma: These pancakes that look like eyes would be really good for if you have a hangover. You're eating breakfast, and they're staring back at you.
Aunt: Yeah, throw some tabasco sauce on them and it's like looking in a mirror!

Jenny the Cow

First off, Hannah hates me because I didn't blog yesterday AND I cut in front of her in the snacks line last night. Sorry, girl, I just needed some chocolate. Will you forgive me? Can I be un-voted off of the island and back into Amber's car?

Anyway.
I've been cranky, irritable, and frustrated this week. I'm sore from ice skating on Saturday; it baffles me the number of people that have never skated on a natural body of water. Irony is that the first time all winter when my hands have actually been warm was while I was ice skating. I'm sick of being freezing cold; maintenance can't fix my air conditioner but the room temperature has peaked at 63, so they gave me a space heater. Oh, and if you are one of those brave souls who gave up chocolate for Lent and suddenly have this overwhelming desire to remove this temptation from your life, I am willing to take one for the team and will not object your sending it to me. :-)

For these reasons, I feel the need to write a blog that will make me smile. We all have those stories that have influenced our life. Perhaps we aren't even characters in the story but it still merits regular retellings. This is one of those for me because it was a classic bedtime story while my sisters and I were growing up. Of course, some creative liberties have been taken through the years but the basis of the story is true. Without further ado, and I'm pretty good at ado-ing, this is "Jenny the Cow" as told to me by my father.

<>< Katie

I was in class just like any other day. The teacher was talking about something, but I don’t remember what since I wasn’t listening anyway. All of the sudden there was a strong rap on the door. The teacher answered to a police officer who asked if I was in that class. Now, I’m not a perfect little angel; I get into my share of trouble but nothing bad enough for the cops to be involved. Plus, I had no idea what I’d done. Silently I followed the officer towards the front door of the school.

Am I being arrested? What the heck? I wondered to myself.

As we crossed over the threshold and into the parking lot, I realized the cause of the commotion. Standing in the middle of the school yard stood my cow, Jenny. Yes, I think Jenny wanted to try out for the soccer team. How did she get here? What was she doing here? Why was she here? I don’t know the answer to any of those questions, but I didn't have time to figure them out either.

Standing a few feet from my beloved Jenny was a police office poised to shoot. I panicked. How do you prevent an officer from shooting your cow without getting shot yourself? I had no idea.

"Don't shoot!" I heard a distant wailing. I looked up towards my house and saw my mother running down the hill flailing her arms. "Momma's here, Jenny, come to Momma."

I was mortified. Surely the entire school was watching from the window. I think a stray cow in the middle of the soccer field warrants a break from useless math. In case having my cow visit school wasn't bad enough, my over-weight screaming mother was not helping the situation. The officer's arms were still extended, finger on the trigger.

"Don't shoot! I'll get her to move! Don't shoot! Jenny, come to Momma, Jenny. Momma's here. Come to Momma, Jenny," my mother's cries continued. I don't understand why she can't sound a bit more grown up, even if she is just talking to the cow. For a brief moment, I almost wished I was back in class, bored to death.

Mom drew nearer to us, the police officer failed to lower his gun, and Jenny refused to move. He wouldn't really shoot Jenny, would he? He can't shoot her, can he?

I didn't know. All I really knew was that my mother was running out of ideas and the cop was growing impatient. In the distance, I could see a yellow truck approaching our brouhaha. Instantly, I recognized it as my dad's. How many people do you know with a big yellow trucks? On second thought, how many people do you know with cows at school? Pa pulled over to the side of the road and barely shifted the truck into park before he hopped out of the cab. The focus shifted from Jenny to Dad.

"Jenny, there's Dada, go to Dada," Mom whined.

Much to our surprise, Jenny did run to Pa. The officer lowered his gun, my mom stopped screaming, and I breathed a sigh of relief. On to our next problem: how are we going to get Jenny home? Luckily, Pa already had that all figured out. He opened the tailgate and Jenny hopped into the truck bed. He drove Mom and Jenny home. Sadly, I was sent back to class.

Part I: Story Telling

This is Part I of a two-part blog series. Part II will be posted tomorrow.

"How many of you like to tell stories?" A professor asked one morning. Every hand in the room shot up. Of course, this is a creative writing class.

"How many of you like to hear stories?" Again, every hand went up.

"How many of you like to hear your parents or grandparents tell stories?" A bit hesitantly, the hands raised themselves into the air.

"Only the first time," Chelsea whispered to me. A little bit of laughter erupted from our side of the classroom. She'd voiced my exact thoughts. Only once do I really need to hear about how you walked to school everyday through the snow. Yes, I realize it was up-hill both ways.

However, there are some stories I don't mind hearing over and over again. Toddler Dad being brought home by the school girls because he had lost his clothes somewhere in the neighborhood (I like to think this was a recurring story and therefore truly happened as often as Dad tells it). Or how Mom's boyfriend took a flip off of the roof into a snowbank and a passer-by thought it was Grandpa.

I am blessed to have four grandparents and two parents, all healthy. Unfortunately, they're 900 miles away not telling me stories as we sit around and chat. Sometimes I miss that. Somedays I miss dinner being interrupted by a "Hey, did I ever tell you about the time our family cow followed me to school?" Yes, you have, only every day since I was old enough to remember but please tell it again!

As a writer, you never know when these stories are going to come in handy. Maybe they're the substance you need for a good poem, a great situation to plug into your novel, an amusing blog post, or even something to write about when you're suffering from writer's block. Recording and rewriting these stories in your Writer's Notebook is an excellent exercise.

What's a Writer's Notebook? That's tomorrow. See you then!

Go write about your family's classics,
<>< Katie