Life As a Pearl

Living in Colorado, it's hard to imagine how the saying making a mountain out of a molehill really took off. While we're pretty solid on the concept of mountain, do any of my neighbors even know what a molehill looks like? They couldn't possibly. Whether they've seen one or not, I guess we all know the saying presumes that a molehill is insignificant. It's basically nothing in the grand scheme of things. Or in the grand scheme of yards, as the case may be.  But I grew up in Kansas, and if you'd have introduced me to the saying back then I'd have been utterly unable to wrest the true meaning from it. Why? Because molehills were a big freaking deal at my house. That's why. The various traps my dad set for them were the stuff of nightmares. And even when he briefly abandoned the springs and spikes for seemingly innocuous wads of Juicy Fruit, you somehow knew the moles were in no less trouble. So while I now understand the molehills in the sayin...

If you were thinking this was going to be one of those cute year-end posts with lots of pictures, you were mistaken. No pictures! And that's really on you because who would title that A Christmas Crime? This post is legit about a crime I just committed. A crime for which I should probably be sorry but I am definitely not. It was totally worth it. I'd leave you hanging and let you guess the nature of my nefarious deeds; but that seems entirely unnecessary. I'll just tell you right now it was the federal crime of tampering with someone's mail. Although I didn't so much tamper as I did open. And relish. Do you suppose open and relish are covered under the umbrella verb, tamper? And do you also suppose it's not technically a crime if the mail rightfully came to my address? Maybe someone with a deep knowledge of postal law could help me out here. What kind of time am I looking at doing for opening a Christmas card that was meant for the former owners of our home?...

And by you , of course   I mean me . So here's the story as it has been told to me over the years. For reasons that were undoubtedly religiously motivated, my mom decided she was going to home school my brother and me. She started with Jesse at whatever early age because he was reading in the womb and dividing cheerios in his highchair and blah, blah, blah. It was so much fun and he was so smart and remember the time he related the word sequel to the  Back to the Future series?! What a genius! What pure joy to watch this child learn! And then I came along. There are no stories about my great mental prowess, my clever anecdotes. There is only one story. The story that ends quite abruptly at, "And then I enrolled you both in school." Thinking on it now, I'm not sure we can even call it a story. It's really just a crude reenactment of a poor young child struggling to read the word bug . "B-U-G. B-U-G. You kept saying the sounds, but you just couldn't put...

There are a few things I'm good at in this world, and singing isn't one of them. I can dust the heck out of a living room (although I typically choose not to), I can keep a number of different types of house plants alive, I can shuffle cards really well, and I can make a meal appear out of thin air no matter how many weeks it's been since our last trip to the market. But darn it, I cannot sing. If you think my lack of talent stops me, you're mistaken. I love to sing. I almost don't mind traffic (that's mostly a lie) because it gives me more time to belt out the tunes. In fact, when I'm sitting next to someone forever in rush hour, I'm not at all above rolling down my window and singing at them. Judging by the smiles and laughter, I've found it to be a mutually beneficial way to pass the time. Now because I know I'm not America's Next Top Singer (is that a show? I'm not sure that's a show.), I didn't really worry when my surg...

Tomorrow, I turn 32. So with no more ado or fanfare than that, I share with you 31 things I've learned in 31 years of life. In no particular order and with no promised gravity. The Golden Rule doesn't ensure you'll get treated the way you wish to be treated. It just means you can sleep at night, knowing you did right. Sandal tans garner an inexplicable degree of respect and admiration. The book is always better than the movie. So all you book snobs out there can just hush up about it. We know. (Yes, I'm a total book snob. But I'm so snobby I don't even try the movie. You're welcome.) If you don't water the plants, the plants die. When you're going through some shit and people tell you, "I could never do what you doing," the appropriate response is: "Yes you could. You just haven't had to." Dog people have hair all over everything and cat peoples' houses smell funny (which is a nice way of saying bad ). Children a...

Sorry, guys. Not that F word. Trust me. If I thought you would read an entire post extolling the virtues of the actual F word, I would totally write one. It's such a great word! But I don't have to tell you that. If you're reading this, we're kindred souls and you don't need my help dropping the bomb when and wherever it suits. No...this post is about an F word with infinitely more insidious implications: Failure. Gross, right? Who wants to talk about that? Um, no one. So here we go!  A small list of big things I've failed at: 1. Parenting 2. Marriage 3. Religion 4. Life Thanks in advance for the way you said in your head, "You're a great mom!" or "You didn't fail at that marriage, he did!" Much appreciated, friends. But this isn't one of those pity-party posts. I'm not especially touchy about any of these failures--they're more like scars than wounds. I'm only even thinking of them today because in a f...

So...who's tired of all those pictures of ladies at the march on Saturday?! I mean seriously, why does my precious facebook feed have to be inundated with all this empowerment bullshit? I'm a lady, and I am empowered. And my experience speaks for us all, so if you could kindly shut up that would make me a lot more comfortable. Hey there, choir :) Anybody out there feeling a little deflated by that crummy feedback? Or maybe you're not deflated, but you're sure wondering what you could possibly say that would be peaceful, but also somehow stuff those jerks' red hats down their yappy maws? Yeah...me too. Last weekend I took a non-violence training to prep for any possible rowdiness at this weekend's event or any other I may bring Ayana to, and I learned something that changed my brains. I learned that my goal (in situations like a rally gone rowdy) should be to remain safe. I know that's a total duh for some of you, but not for this rabble rouser! My goa...