Thursday, Thursday, Thursday....
Having such a hard time getting started this morning--no energy, but not tired enough to fall back into bed and properly recharge; maybe this extra cup of coffee will help....
You read; I'll sip.
Malia (chanting): You like him! Kiana likes ________! Kiana looooves ______!
Kiana (with a silly little grin): Yeah....and?
Malia: Well....(think...think..think)...well, I like him, too! I like _____! I'm going to marry him. He's mine, he's mine, he's mine! (insert evil Malia laugh here.)
Kiana (still grinning, rolls eyes): Okay, Malia....whatever.
Mom (interjecting): Nuh-uh, Malia; nobody belongs to anybody. You belong to Mom, and Dad, and God; when you find someone who will take better care of you than I can, you can date him. Until then, nuh-uh.
(Apparently, I don't believe in waiting to contradict myself. No, sir; I like to do it in the very next breath.)
Kiana: Aha! See, Malia? Mom said you can't date anyone until they can take better care of you than she can. Wait....(brief contemplative pause, and then, the golden question)...
I bestow upon you 1 BILLION Good Daughter points; now, go in peace.
Dear "Anonymous Comment Leavers,"
When I was a young girl, I often dreamed of having a secret admirer who would shower me with expressions of loving kindness and good deeds. Of course, I had none. (I survived.)
Unfortunately, this idea no longer holds the same appeal for the grown-up me. I still gratefully receive expressions of loving kindness and good deeds (preferably in the form of Starbuck's), but feel a little more comfortable knowing exactly from whose heart they come.
So, don't be shy; reveal thyself, Friend! I bare my soul in some of these posts; I really like to know who's relating. So, text me, shoot me an email, message me on Facebook; help me save face (I'm a big "fail!" when it comes to trying to figure out who's who; I've done it once or twice, I think. :-9).
Thank you, and I probably love you, too,
|I'm Sexy, and I Know it.|
- Purple actually isn't my color. Bummer.
- Most people aren't even paying attention (and that's a good thing). As the stunning 4-and-a-half-foot-tall curvalicious beauty that I am, there are some days when it feels like 87.4% of Silverdale's population is staring at me; it's enough to make a (half-)grown woman consider the possibility that she may look, you know....different. (I wouldn't mind it so much if people would at least smile back when I notice them staring, but they can't, it seems; I have to presume it's taking their entire mental capacity to figure out exactly what is going on--"Is that a woman? Is that a child? Oh, wait--I think she's a movie star! Didn't she play one of the Oompa Loompas in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?") And now I'm going to contradict myself again: when I posted this picture, the response was....nothing. Nada. For a few days, at least. Finally, one brave soul, possessing the truth and grace of an enduring friend, broached the subject with a simple ".....?...." and then, her honest opinion of "Meh. I now have a deeper appreciation for your natural beauty." :D Anyway, long story short (um...too late, DoRe'), I was reminded again that 1) the world does not revolve around me, and 2) I can be who I be, be it whatever it be, and still be okay; no one's staring at me! (This sentence inspired by Dr. Seuss, of course.) Of course, there is also the distinct possibility that:
- My friends think I'm capable of some pretty major fashion atrocities. To see this, and not be able to confidently laugh it off because you're not so certain it's a fake, and you don't want to hurt my feelings just in case I actually did go out and PUT PURPLE STRIPES IN MY HAIR? Come on, you guys! Nothin' wrong with purple stripes, but, really--ME?! We need to spend more time together, apparently, and get reacquainted.
|She's the real deal, people.|
|This literally takes my breath away.|