I have a friend who just a few years ago was frustrated with the amount of unintentional feces she had to deal with as a grown woman... But of course that's to be expected, most people don't expect to have to deal with any-- save maybe the occasional puppy accident. But when one has three little children, its more or less par for the course.
But little ones eventually become big ones. and while they learn where and when to put their poops, there is still lessons to be learned regarding the simple act of elimination. As evidenced by her youngest latest self realization overheard from outside the bathroom door
There's always the push to the next thing. if you're a child its to outgrow your parents, if you're a teen its to drive a car, if you're a grown up its to find a mate and after that to procreate. There's rarely the time that we stop and are truly content where we are... Its like we're born on a slope and we're running down hill that only stops when we topple into the grave (and even that's after wishing as an old person you didn't hurt so much so why don't I just die already?)
There are moments sometimes though-- when we find peace in our current place-- those moments are the exception not the rule. They are like smoke that vanishes. But in the moment you find that contentment, celebrate it. Recognize it and remember it-- for contentment is like a muscle, it can grow if its worked.
hmm... such a solemn thought spurred by my friend's post on fb today
"Facebook, I've been married for less than 7 months. STOP showing me ads depicting pregnant ladies and pregnancy tests. I'll give you baby photos when I want to give you baby photos, and not a minute sooner!!! For the next few years, satiate yourself with pictures of my cat."
I like children. God gave them cute as their protection... that being said they have so many things that come out of them that are not so cute. Sometimes catastrophically. Even when they're not sprinkling or erupting or exploding-- theres always other ways their inner urges make themselves known...
but like I said, God gave them cute as a defense.
"In my haste to get a load of laundry in after VBS today I some how put a diaper in the wash. Thinking I took care of the mess I proceeded to dry the Now "clean" clothes only to open the dryer up to smell something gross. Apparently that diaper had poop in it and I didn't clean up as well as I thought. Needless to say it was as if that poop tried really hard to get out of that hot spinning dryer. What a mess I tell ya. That's like reason number five for why we need to be done with the "diaper phase"
Really needs no explanation. Saw this statement on a friends wall today although I did Comment "if only I had no class, I would draw that..." I guess one doesn't have to be literal :)
A friend of mine posted a link to an article today about people hopping in and out of relationships looking for the perfect one. Later, he posted this bit of algorithmic irony "On my Facebook side-bar today: "Discover Trekkie Dating". (Shows a female dressed as a vulcan doing the vulcan hand sign.) Of course! THIS will clearly be the way to find my soul-mate!"
Its dangerous to be a kid these days. I was speaking with a friend earlier about a photo we had seen where an engaged couple had their announcement as a scene of them being attacked and overcoming a Zombie. My friend said, "their children are going to think they're wierd" To which I replied "Yes, but one day they will see them as cool" My friend thinking of her children' lamented that she lives for the eventual day her children will come to that revelation. I assured her that they would-- after she had died. Because of the desire to maintain coolness status-- or maybe more to prove it, parents progress from latest technological trend to the next. As long as they know their Facebooks from their instagrams from their Vines, then they're good. (and whatever else there may be, I don't have the need to connect any more to the internets more than I already have) And who gets to suffer--er I mean benefit from their self assertion of their relevance? their children.. While a lot of parents are prone to upload and post some of the most unflattering images of their young charges (thus leveling the coolness playing field) Im thankful that my friends practice self restraint. Even still I was amused when a friend posted this word picture on her Facebook Me: I thought you wanted me to do your hair....can I braid it? She: ummm yea, but first.....you gotta give me a candy! Of course she was portraying her child as a wheeler dealer, but all I could think of was "yeah, right kid, you're the one who's going to suffer for want of a hair comb, not your mom. You think candy is worth your self esteem? Guess again! The saying goes, A picture paints a thousand words.... So here's the words I painted.
I have a new acquaintance of FB. We became friends because we have a mutual friend who makes me be the cooler person I wish I was in High School. I tell her that if I had known her in High School she would not have talked to me because she would have been the cool kid and I would have been the geek. She assures me that is not true. That if we had met at that time then she would have would not have talked to me because she was incapable of speaking to anyone because she was too shy.
If only I had known in HS that I would have grown up to now be as cool as I am--or at least not care that I am not as cool as others think I should be--I would have been better off having fun and waiting around for my shy speechless friends to eventually find me.But at any rate, my new acquaintance is quite cool as well--who knows, she too might not have been cool in high school.... But now she's not in High school or any school for that matter as he's traveling the US in an airstream trailer. Well, just recently she posted on Facebook a picture of an adorable fuzzy little wormy thing with a red head and giant antennae. It reminded me of something from a children's book.Over the next day she posted more pictures of them. they were everywhere. I told her to sleep with one eye open. She wrote
"You can HEAR THEM FALLING FROM THE TREES. It's gone from cute to sixties horror flick."
It turns out they are the larval stage of the White Tussoc Moth. Someone said
"This is about as fantastic as they will ever look."
Hmm... kind of like a super cool person who peeks in Highschool.... but I guess its always back to that isn't it?
Unless they are spectacular-we can be inured to people's testimonies. But that belies how little we understand that all sin no matter how great or small is the same. More than that, how amazing the love of God truly is! But one need only look to the angels to understand just what happens when both mass murderer and kindly grandmother repent "In the same way, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents." Luke 15:10 for it is not just that a sinner turned from their wicked ways to serve a loving Savior-- its that a loving Savior opens His arms wide to receive a wicked sinner. God did not have to forgive any of us-- and yet, every time He does, the angels rejoice because He demonstrates His tremendous mercy! Salvation in a sense is not about us-- oh we get the benefits-- but really, its all about God
I stepped outside and tested the air. it was a little nippy so I went back in to throw on a sweatshirt. I was wearing shorts and I knew I would warm up soon enough after I started jogging, but I didn't want to suffer the brisk air for the first couple of blocks. I don't know why I bother for two blocks out of three miles, its the same every time. the first block Im comfortable and the second block I consider with each step should I pull off the sweatshirt, but where will I put it? do I wrap it around my waist? do I tie it around my shoulders? what usually happens is I pull it over my head and still wear it on my arms so its kind of like those stocks they used to put criminals in during the Pilgrim days-- only its cloth, and by the end of my jog, my neck is all toasty and sweaty.But at least I was comfortable for two blocks. I saw this on my friend's wall. it seemed already like a poem. But I wrote my own as I thought of her. I was trying to draw her in the snow. She's blonde and beautiful. but really how easy is to to look beautiful when you're trying to keep warm? about as easy as it is to not look dorky when you're tangled in a sweatshirt stockade... Dear snow,Go away. I always hate you. I hate you in winter when you are supposed to be here, but I especially hate you in spring and when my birthday is on Friday and you insist on hanging around!Unsincerely,Tessa
I was nine years old and she was thirty one, much younger than I am now, and yet-- egad, she was my mom for goodness sakes! She wanted something so outlandish, so awkward- she wanted to dance with me, and not just dance--
she wanted to do the bump
Shudder. ugh. there's no way no how, not now not ever! but my mom was fun and she was also young-- so she simply said,
"fine, if you won't bump with me, I'll bump with the wall!" and she did .
I miss my mom. Why is it after they go away, that's when you realize how amazing they were. Yes, she had flaws, but she always knew how to have a good time. As kids we miss out on the fact that parents are people too. With dreams and likes, and even though they were busy fighting dragons in the world so we never had to, they still sometimes imagine themselves in a Buzzby Birkly Musical when they are alone in the grocery store as they hop on the cart for a moment and push themselves off singing "The Sun'll Come Out Tomorrow"
or- they'll bump with the wall.
take courage my parental friends-- your children may grumble at times and miss out on the best parts of you at others-- but the gift you leave behind as long as you love them will be worth far more than any property. For you will leave them a bit of yourself, and that twinkle in their eye-- will be the memory of you.
My friend Sarah wrote "showed Pippa, The Wizard of Oz, for the first time yesterday. I pretty much cried through the whole movie.
Children: Why does it make you cry? Does it scare you? Me: I cry because I LOVE IT SO MUCH! no joke people."
I stayed with a family member over the weekend and their children are gorgeous sweet and lovable moppets... mostly. but there are times--
like when the fire hose won't wind properly on the firetruck all the four year old could do was stand in the front yard and shriek at the top of his lungs as if someone had cut of his arm and stir fried it and then fed it to him.
the mom who had been in another room came in and asked the father what was the story and he explained it in that tired voice that fathers get who have actually forgotten "oh yeah, one of my progeny's standing outside screaming at the top of his lungs--"
"In the front yard?" she replied. "That's embarrassing..."
I was talking to another friend about her three year old and she said that most times he's such a love, and then there are times-- well she just had to remind herself that his frontal lobe was not developed yet so he lacked the ability to control those emotions.
Really? I said. wow... so my pleas to children to act reasonable were not ignored, they actually had no capability of complying... hmmm...
My friend went on to say, yes, its in those times I remind myself of that fact, remember his adorable times and just figure I have to ride it out.
again
Hmm...
So my cousin was right.
Babies ARE tiny sociopaths.
for my friend who wrote
"So it's Bite, Scratch, and Scream Day? OK, then. If you need me, I'll be hiding under the desk."
There is a saying that punctuation is everything. It makes the difference between calling someone to dinner or FOR dinner
Let's eat Grandma
or
Lets eat, Grandma
So when I saw this on FB, I was confused-- why wasn't the father in the picture?
Someone posted a picture of their daughter in a tutu but sent it to her father. The way it appeared on FB was this: "The only attire to wear while playing outside — with Jeff L." I only saw a picture of their daughter in a tutu and pink boots... but this is what image sprang to mind
silly FB, for all those billions of dollars one things that Mr Z would take an English class...
From a friend..I could comment on this, but why guild the lilly, the report is delightful enough on its own. To it I simply add my drawing... "Heart attack for the day: had a box marked "perishable" on my desk, addressed to one of the guys at work. Nothing out of the ordinary. A few minutes later, the box made a slight creaking noise and then shifted and MOVED. I swear, I jumped so far out of my seat I could've touched the ceiling. Lesson of the day: Perishable means many things. Don't assume because it's mail that it means "food will go bad." Can also mean "animal inside will DIE." Apparently shipping live lobsters to a corporate office is something people can do. Thanks internet."
I heard something today that went something like, don't expect to feel happiness if you don't want to feel pain and it struck me, because so many times I find that I find ways to run from painful situations by trying to recapture happiness and end up double miserable in the process. I have a friend Sarah, who for the most part is one of the more happy people I know. Sure she has her dark times, a time no darker than when she discovered that her eldest son had a tumor near his spine. And what was Sarah's response to this news and the months after this through the surgery, chemo and various other trials. She named the tumor Tribble and kept all her friends updated on the trials and Tribulations of Tribble's ongoing eviction. How was she able to do this and whom she did she credit as the source of her strength? God her savior. the one who promised "God causes all things to work together for good for those who love Him and who are called according to His purposes" so no matter how dark Sarah chose to put her trust in this promise- I mean after all, God knew where she was coming from-- He too saw His Son go through tremendous pain.Today I saw a hospital mascot from Brazil who walked the halls of the burn unit. His name is Flamy
which caused me to write on Sarah's wall "imagine the endless possibilities for tasteless mascots and children's ailments" to which she responded Tribble the Tumor!!!I felt horrible drawing this. but I had to-- because even though a child with cancer it a heart wrenching thing-- the testimony such great faith in the face of such a tremendous trial is an encouraging one to me-- and maybe to someone else.
I wish there were no cancer, no pain or heartbreak-- but I am thankful for the example of my friend Sarah who reminds me that there will not always be pain,to look towards the hope that there will be eternal happiness in Him who is the Lover our our soul, and as dark as the trial is here in this plain, in eternity it will be dwarfed by the happiness to be found living with Him
"The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, 2 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, 3 and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor." ISA 61
When I was about four or five, I went to North Carolina for the first time to visit my grandmother and Grandfather. They lived in Greenville, where you could sit on the porch swing and watch hot summer storms blow down the street with rain in sheets like it was coming out of pipes in a car washeteria. We could walk to the corner market and buy bubble gum cigarets that blew powdered sugar smoke and eat fresh corn off the cob picked from my grandmother's back yard. But before all that fun experience, was the rest. We had traveled from LA to Chicago (where I saw my enormous Uncle and his equally loving and enormous wife) and then on to Raleigh and lastly an interminable ride to the two bedroom tiny family home that had at one time housed ten children and two adults, and I was beat. Though my grandparent's home was not lacking in love, what it did lack was central air-- or even a wall unit of any kind-- and for a California kid, I was melting. I was tired and only too happy to climb into bed-- but not to happy that it was going to be hot and sticky. The solution-- to claim the space near the wall. After wrestling my little sister away from the coveted place-- where the cool of the wall would provide at least a little comfort, I draped my leg over the bed, between the wall and the mattress and settled down for some welcome sleep. sigh.... The door opened, and someone peered it-- I can't remember who. was it my grandma, or grandpa-- but I remember their words as if they were saying them to me right now. "Baby, don't put your feet behind the bed, the rats will eat your toes" forget the monsters under the bed that may or may not have been real-- what was real was RATS... my kindly old grandparent-- whichever one it was, would NEVER lie about them! Over the years other things joined me under the bed. Jaws. The Creature of the Black Lagoon, And a Revelle model T Rex with glow in the dark teeth, claws and eyes.. (though i could put the actual model in the closet-- his spirit would haunt my under the bed) And I was ever fearful that hanging any part of my body over the bed would result in it most assuredly being eaten or snatched off without mercy. In fact, the fear lasted until I went away to college and was only defeated after I became a Christian and one night I turned off the lights, dashed to the bed, drew the covers up to my neck and reminded myself "I know the Creator of the universe, and there is no reason to be afraid." and at that, the rats, shark, creature and Dinosaur vanished in a puff of faith. I have often heard parents make the statement that they are giving their child something about which they can talk to their therapist, when they make some parental executive decision-- as if being a human parent was going to be the child's later adult neurosis... but in thinking about what became my demon from childhood-- an idle phrase of love and protection combined with my overactive imagination was my undoing-- NOT my grandparents. so-- yeah, to my friends who are parents-- you may give your child things to discuss with their counselors in later life-- but it may not be because of what you think, so my advice to you (having no kids of my own) lighten up on yourselves, and don't second guess so much. Just make all of your choices in love like my grand parents did-- and let God sort out and heal the missteps. if your family life is characterized by care and warmth, even though there be rats under the bed, they will remember you when you're long gone with joy and a smile. (the way my grandparents are forever cemented in my mind) Besides, who knows-- your child may not go to a therapist after all... they may start a blog. My friend Julie posted on her wall about her child "I don't want to get on the potty train!!!!!!!!" and I thought it was hilarious. When I mentioned it to her she said that she had told her daughter that they were going to start potty training and that were her child's response... Who knows how long it will take THAT to get undone-- but then again, it always comes back to the potty now doesn't it?
People have things of which they are not ashamed to trumpet. I know a man who routinely jokingly says he's handsome while another person I know goes on for time without end about how much history he has stored in his head at ready access-- not by telling you he's fantastically gifted in memorizing historical data, but by regaling you with said data at the drop of a hat. I'm ashamed to admit-- I'm proud of my skin. okay, maybe not so ashamed. It doesn't help that some of those closest to me encourage my lack of facial humility...
I had a friend say to a mutual acquaintance was hawking Airbonne, "I want whatever you're sellin' that will make my skin look like Carole's.
Eventually what started as a joke response to their observation of my face "You look so young..." "Black don't crack. Became the light hearted banner I whip out like a giant foam finger on an exuberant Redsock's fan's hand. Poink, poink poink, don't I look young? "Black don't Crack," is not mine, Oprah Winfrey is reputed to have first used it, but it doesn't stop me from embracing it with all my might, "Black don't crack" the statement usually elicits a shocked and stifled giggle from my Caucasian friends, and a knowing head nod from my African American ones (and my Asian friends as well-- they too are ageless, but they have no rhyme to support it)
it is both an colloquial explanation for my youthful look, as joking way to say I was proud-- without saying "Hey, I'n proud!" One day it was going to be my downfall... this pride in something over which I have no control. I mean, I didn't choose my parents? They didn't choose their genes. That day was today... The book of proverbs says "Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall" and eventually my fall did come. Was it a winkle? No, something much much worse... It was the presumption of a wrinkle Tonight someone sent me a message which said "Hi Carole, I just started using and now selling this product called_________. If you curious or interested on knowing more about the product or want to buy?:) P.S. I have posted pictures of real testimonies on my Facebook wall"
I had seen her posting pictures but didn't remember what they were. At the moment I assumed they were about weight. At either rate I wasn't interested, but I wanted to be encouraging.
So I replied
"I love that you're always looking for new ways to supplement your income... but nope, I'm not interested..."
and proceded to go on about my business-- but first I decided to stop by her page to refresh my memory as to what this product might be. Gasp! Pictures of insanely old and wrinkly people!!!!!! Oh dear heavens! SirensAlarms!The sound of insane appall (if there is such a thing. So i added to my message "besides, hello-- have you seen my face lately? three words. Black. don't. crack. Im just saying" she was confused at first but then replied momentarily
Beat... then a response
"What?!
I know you do have a very nice skin:)"
And I in turn said
"selling skin cream to me would be like selling ice to eskimos..."
Ring ring, this is your character calling-- and it needs a little work.
I had to think about it-- even though i made a joke about it, there really was no reason to be proud-- what do I have that God has not given me? my talent, my intelligence-- my skin? its all on loan and all subject to the passage of time. I will become addled one day, and my hands won't draw, nor my voice do more than croak -- though that is not this day.
I have to face the fact that one day, this face, like everything else on me, will fall. I hope on that day I will be gracious enough to not be offended if someone offers me a glass full of refreshing ice cubes because they want to help.
Age, and wrinkles are inevitable-- but graciousness is not always.
So for now I joke, and inside I think--and am thankful for the message that though my face may not need work, my character could always use a little tightening.
I was always the one who had one at a time friend. But that one friend was always a good friend. The one who protected me from bullies, or who baptized me an honorary Jew in the drinking water fountain or who fed my imaginary horse sugar cubes-- at age 17... but I always longed for something more-- I longed to be in with them... The IN crowd. You know those people. the handsome and they know it, smart and they relish in it, clever and they flaunt it, dashing always on it, life of the party people. The ones who gathered crowds like candles gathered moths. And they could care less, because when one moth got too close and was singed, there was always another moth only too happy to take the empty space. I looked at them with my zebra dirt streaked socks and my uncombed hair, with the slight but detectable aroma of desperation that hung on my wrinkly clothes, not even having the courage to drift into the periphery of the moths. so off I would shuffle to my one but dutiful friend to eat a Godfather taco pizza... But today I had a revelation. Somewhere my vision had changed... Well, actually it was something else that changed-- it was my in crowd. I realized that fact when I saw I was delighted that I had become friends of of one of my delightfully creative and imaginative but quirky friends (who's gorgeous but doesn't know it.) I wrote to the new friend "now I am finally in with the in crowd" to which he replied "We are the most in that you will get! More than innie belly buttons!" which led me to say "hopefully not covered with lint though..." and he said "No guarantee" It made me smile... Had I just inferred that someone was covered with lint like an old bellie button? Further more-- had they actually humored me? Holy sugar cubes to my imaginary horse batman-- had my new friend not run away scratching his head at my random quirk comment, but joined in like it was normal? That's the thing-- it WAS normal... normal for us it also made me write the most random poem which in turn made me think. When had I gone from longing to be with the hip cool kids to being with the even hipper because their weirder cool kids? When had I become content to love the one kid who would defend me instead of running after the one who would ignore me? I have spent most of my life wishing I had something that was right under my nose. But before I could see it, I had to first decide I was worth it. Groucho Marks is reported to have said, "I would never belong to a club that would have me as a member" which is funny if said by a comedian, but tragic if lived by a person. When I made the conscious choice to walk away from the IN crowd and be okay with the crowd I was in, I saw two things-- one, my freaky peeps, were actually amazing and colorful and fun and delightful-- and further more-- so was I. They would eat my cookies, and share my burdens, and none of them would laugh at me when I told them I wanted to be a clown... well, no, actually they did-- in fact one of them told me i would have to leave his office-- but I didn't listen to him because he thinks he's a ninja, and hah, since he's scared of clowns its like rock paper scissors and no matter what he does, Im always fire! So the lesson here? I don't know if there's a lesson. but for me an observation. Im happy my friends are who they are and do what they do. There's no silence among us only laughter, and above all, there is no singed wings among us-- only love. So forgive my random poem drawing-- its for all of us in our respective IN crowds...
I have an extremely talented friend named Paul who also happens to be very good looking. As is the case with many good looking people, he has found something to obsess on about his looks in order to deny the truth that he is indeed a good looking man. Years ago he confessed to me in a moment of vulnerability that he had thought his head was getting larger. look, said he, pointing to his early twenties photograph on his drivers license while comparing it to his early thirties work id photo. "My head is getting wider. I had at that moment the two choices to make: the sympathetic conciliatory "oh no, Paul, you're head's not getting wider, that's just a trick of the lens" or the other which would be to take that moment of vulnerability and make him pay through his ever widening nose for it (after all, the nose does have to widen to keep up with his broadening face...
He informed me today that while cleaning out his office he found a stack of drawings about four inches thick of various Paul head drawings from over the years (I disagree, it can't be that many, when would I have gotten my work done?-- two inches maybe, but not four) At any rate, to that pile I add yet another.
Paul for his job is going to Japan for research. For some reason a group of us started talking about the fact that the Japanese sell various things in vending machines (underwear) Things that you couldn't imagine . Of course I mentioned Paul heads.
now before you feel badly for poor Paul and his enormous head (not quite as bit as a mardi gras walk around--yet) Let me add that for the same amount of time Paul has drawn me in various cartoons depicting me in hapless situations.
this is what cartoonists do when they love and respect each other.
Joe is the big brother I didn't know I needed. He also claims he's a ninja. That not withstanding, words fail me at how thankful to God I am for him... So thankful in fact that I actually drew a MULTI panel cartoon in honor of his birthday...
Thank you Joe for all the great advice and pointing me to God that you have done over the last year. So many of the adventures I've had of late have been as a result of your advice to pray to our big God, "God I'm yours-- use me where you will"
