Enter the Trojans

Ok. I know that it's cheesy, but I love costumes. I'm not generally a big Halloween fan, but I do love an excuse to play dress-up. And there's also the massive quantities of sugary (and preferrably, chocolatey) goodness.

Well, the boyfriend decided to have a Halloween party this year. So I decided that we should wear a couples costume. Fearing that Ken and Barbie would be too cliche (kidding, of course - I can't stand Barbie), we decided on "Roman God" and "Venus, Goddess of Beauty". Some of the friends thought I was Helen of Troy and he was What's-His-Name-Who-Loved-Her-Thereby-Destroying-Sparta. (Of course, we all know that was Paris.) But we really just looked like Greeks. So, for your viewing and mocking pleasure, here is photographic proof of how much my boyfriend loves me:

Meet the Parents

The baby of the family (my younger sister) got married a couple of weeks ago. So I thought, what better time to have the boyfriend meet the family? This way, he can not only meet my parents and my siblings, but also the entire extended family on both sides. Not intimidating at all, right?!

You'll all be relieved to know that he not only passed the test -- he aced it! Most importantly, my papa thinks he's wonderful. Just one more reason why I love him.

Important Cancer Update

I learned yesterday that there are no more pre-cancerous cells on my shoulder. And although to many I'm sure it seemed such a small thing, to have exams and biopsies and excisions and minor surgeries, to me it was terrifying. So call me overly dramatic if you must, but I am incredibly relieved that it is over. Last night I slept well for the first time in about two months. Today my stomach is untying the knots of the last few weeks.

The two-inch scar on my right shoulder now serves as a constant reminder to wear sunscreen, to stay out of the sun, to schedule appointments with my dermatologist yearly. It reminds me of my cousin, who sees a much larger scar every day when she gets dressed. It reminds me that skin cancer is not something to take lightly.

Since it's my blog, here's my campaign message for all of you in blogland:

Always wear sunscreen.

Get checked yearly.

Don't think it can't happen to you.

And have a happy and healthy fall/winter!

Three Little Words

I suppose I've known for a while now that he cares very much about me, and that he thinks about me when I'm not with him. This has been made clear since our first date by the thoughtful little things he does, the way he looks at me, the way he talks to me, and how he remembers even small, seemingly insignificant details.

But now it's official -- He Loves Me!* So I just wanted to share this moment of happiness with my friends in blogland.

*Addendum: And I love him!
Sorry, my love, for not making this announcement in the original post. I assumed it was implied. Thanks, Carolyn, for pointing out the omission.

Back in Circulation

Does everyone remember cabin weekend 2005?

Well, we spent last weekend in the mountains again, and it was even more super-fun! Partly because new boyfriend is so much better than old boyfriend. Partly because we were wakeboarding instead of snowskiing (although I do love both). Partly because we weren't renting a tiny cabin (although the jacuzzi was a very nice feature), but were shacked up in a gloriously large house, thanks to Mark's recent rise into the ranks of homeownership. But mostly, I think, because we expanded the group this time. Plus, there were babies!

Don't get me wrong, I love Em and M. But how much more fun when we double the group from two fun couples to four?!?! And then add the three and a half cutest little ones in all the world. Besides my niece, of course. Carolyn and Ralph brought Boogie (aka Dobe) and Dak (aka Flirt), and Shannon and Marty had Ava and on-the-way-but-as-yet-unnamed baby #2 in tow.

As if our Thursday game lunches at the office weren't enough, the girls successfully persuaded all the significant others into having two very long game nights, fueled by massive quantities of alcohol. There were fresh-squeezed, homemade lemon drops (new boyfriend has a very fruitful lemon tree). There was Amarula, Em's new favorite Brazilian liqueur, compliments of old boyfriend. There was Sangria. There were margaritas on the dock. There were boat rides. And did I mention there were babies?

I love weekend getaways. And I love my work girls!

Vegas, Baby!

Labor Day. It's the official end-of-summer blowout. Some parties are civilized BBQs with friends and family, and others are slightly, well, less-civilized.

This year, we went to Las Vegas to celebrate (read: our celebration was more of the less-civilized variety). Hungover from our night out on the town, we decided it would be a good idea to hit the lake. ('Cause nothing makes your hangover headache worse than dehydration from more booze and an entire day in the sun.) Lake Mead was overflowing with boats, all packed to capacity and complete with drunk drivers. Always a good time.

There were shenanigans, tom-foolery, and bally-hoo throughout the day, and it was a blast. A few highlights:

Twitterpated

Flower: [about two birds fluttering around] What's the matter with them?
Thumper: Why are they acting that way?
Owl: Why, don't you know? They're twitterpated.
Flower, Bambi, Thumper: Twitterpated?
Owl: Yes. Nearly everybody gets twitterpated in the springtime. For example: You're walking along, minding your own business. You're looking neither to the left, nor to the right, when all of a sudden you run smack into a pretty face. Woo-woo! You begin to get weak in the knees. Your head's in a whirl. And then you feel light as a feather, and before you know it, you're walking on air. And then you know what? You're knocked for a loop, and you completely lose your head!
Thumper: Gosh, that's awful.
Flower: Gee whiz.
Bambi: Terrible!
Owl: And that ain't all. It could happen to anyone, so you'd better be careful.
Owl: [points at Bambi] It could happen to you…
Owl: [points at Thumper] …or you, or even...
Owl: [Flower looks at Owl shyly] Yes, it could even happen to you!
Thumper: Well, it's not gonna happen to me.
Bambi: Me neither.
Flower: Me neither.

Yeah, that's pretty much how it happens.

Bring It On!

Em and I have been charged with the very important task of creating the marketing department's poster for our company's annual employee conference. With a back-to-school theme this year, the posters for this pep rally are supposed to be reminiscent of the posters we cheerleaders spent the better part of our high school career creating for our beloved football teams. In addition, these posters will be judged, and the top five will receive special recognition. With many combined years of cheerleading and poster-making experience between us, and being an unbeatable team in our highly-competitive Thursday game lunches with the girls at the office, we were clearly the only acceptable choice for this assignment.

We began at once, excited over the prospect of once again picking up our sponge brushes to create masterpieces that would be envied by all others. Always the team players, we held a brainstorming meeting to allow everyone in the department to share their ideas for the poster. Of course, we came prepared with eight mock-ups to get the creative juices flowing. To our dismay, the idea chosen by the majority was not within the scope of our original vision for the project. Fearing that this new idea was not going to produce well enough to win the competition, we did what any good marketer would do and decided to create comps to help persuade the others. To-scale, of course.

During our nostalgic painting session yesterday (I promise we do actual work most of the time, but it's days like yesterday when I really love my job), we came up with a super-fun way to be able to do nothing but paint posters for a living. Without having to stay back in high school for the rest of our lives. Because, let's be honest, as cute as we are, no one will want to see our asses in a cheer uniform when we're 40. It may have been the fumes from the paint, but I'm telling you, this business plan is sheer genius.

Stay tuned to see the final version of our poster, which is sure to be pure perfection.

And keep a lookout -- our handiwork may be coming soon to a high school near you.

Bonne anniversaire a...moi!

If you've been reading, you know that I've had a pretty rough week. Monday's news left me crying until the well of my tears had run dry. Tuesday's discovery really just pissed me off. Wednesday, I had to have a biopsy. They say that bad things happen in threes. But even so, the outlook for the birthday festvities on Thursday did not look good.

Since the week was sucking so badly, I decided to take Friday off. I spent the better part of the morning at my favorite spa -- I got a massage, a mani/pedi, and even got my hair done. Then I went shopping (always a favorite activity). I took the puppy on an extra long walk. I enjoyed a long workout, not feeling rushed for the first time in a long time. And then, after taking as long as I wanted to get ready, the new man and I went to a comedy/magic show, where I laughed so hard that my tummy still hurts this morning.

So the hellish week ended happily after all. And my birthday was a happy one, despite the other not-so-happy events of this week. Thanks to everyone for your support about my dad. And thanks to everyone for the birthday cards, flowers, gifts, lunches/dinners, etc. I've never doubted that I have the best friends and family around, but if ever there was a week when I needed a little confirmation, this was it. So thanks for being there.

I heart you all!

To the Evil Key-er of My New Car:

What kind of mother raised you to believe that it is acceptable to so badly damage the brand-new car of someone who has done nothing, I repeat: NOTHING, to you whatsoever?

Did the shiny (and did I mention brand-new?) silver paint allow you to see your monstrous reflection, and did it repulse you so much that you had to destroy said reflective surface?

Has life been so unkind to you that you felt it necessary to demonstrate to someone else WHO YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW that life is unfair?

Did you assume, based on the new car, that I have been even a little bit successful, and did it make you so angry that you needed to cut me down (or cut my car with your key, as it were) so you wouldn't feel like such a complete failure?

How would you feel if you worked really hard for something, and then within three weeks of getting it, someone ruined it?

I just want you to know that I forgive you (but only because I am required to do so). Whatever has happened to you that made you so hateful, that turned your heart into such an abyss of blackness, that stripped you of any conscience whatsoever, must have been so much more terrible than the foot-long scratch you inflicted on my unsuspecting (and previously unblemished) door. So I feel pity for you. I hope you gain a soul sometime in this life.

Dear God, It's Me, Nicole.

Nothing else matters when you are faced with the harsh reality that your parents will be gone someday. That you will one day mourn the loss of the first two people you ever loved.

In 1998 my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She has always been a strong, healthy woman, so it was no surprise to anyone when she fought it and won. Until 2002. When the doctors told us that it had come back. With even stronger resolve than the first time, she fought back again. And so far, she is winning. But until the doctors tell us that she is officially in remission, I live everyday in fear that my mom might not be there when my first child is born.

My father has been her rock, ever stronger for her, ever more supportive of her, ever more loving. Their faith and their relationship continually strengthened by this test. He has always been, and is still, my hero.

Which is why it came as a great shock to me this evening when he told me he has prostate cancer. How could this man, who I have idealized all my life, be fallible? Equally inconceivable to me is the thought that my daddy might not be there to walk me down the aisle someday.

And this, mere weeks after learning that my cousin, who is my age and one of my dearest friends, has just had her own brush with skin cancer.

At this moment, I cannot imagine how I am going to deal with this. They say "prepare for the worst, but hope for the best." But I refuse to accept this. I refuse to even entertain the idea that I could lose both parents so early in life. And yet at the same time, I am forced to realize that life is so fragile. That we may not have as much time as we once thought.

Friends in blogland, tell your parents you love them today. Tell your children you love them. And if you have ever been religious in your life, please pray for my papa. Thanks.

Unrelated

As a teenager, one of my primary household chores was to babysit my four younger siblings so my parents could go on a date or sometimes just run errands. Why they continued to entrust me with this responsibility when so often things went horribly wrong, I still do not understand. But I was less expensive than outsourcing the babysitting duties (you didn't think I did it for free, did you?), so maybe that's how they justified it.

On this particular instance, my five-year-old baby sister had an extreme case of brattiness (not unusual for her at that time). In all my 13-year-old wisdom I decided that it would be fun for the three boys and I to gang up on her and teach her a lesson. I think most of us have told a sibling that they were adopted at some point or another. But we took it much too far. What ensued got me grounded for two months, and left emotional scars for which I don't think she has yet forgiven me. Here is how it played out:

Me: You know, you're adopted. Mom and dad aren't your real parents. If you don't stop being such a brat, I'm going to call the orphanage and have them take you back. Because we don't want a bratty little sister anymore.
Sister: [screaming, and starting to cry] I'm not adopted!
Me: Oh, yes you are. Just ask any of the boys. They know, too.
[All three boys confirm this sad, sad truth.]
Sister: [crying harder] Even if I am adopted, mom and dad don't want to get rid of me.
Me: Well, I'm in charge right now, so what I say goes. Besides, mom and dad don't want you around anymore because you're such a brat.
Sister: [crying harder still] You don't even know the phone number for the orphanage!
Me: Sure I do, it's 555-TAKE. (wasn't I clever?)
Sister: I don't believe you!
Me: You'll see, I'm not kidding. [I pick up the phone and dial, pretending to talk to the orphanage and asking them to take her back right away.] You better go get packed.
[At this point, my sister is crying uncontrollably. One of my brothers comes down the stairs with her suitcase, packed. Another brother sneaks around the house to the front door and rings the doorbell.]
Me: They're here for you. Say goodbye to everyone. You have to leave now.
[Now she is screaming and crying so hard that she is hyperventilating and turning blue in the face. At this very moment, my parents arrive home. She runs to them and tells the whole story, and I get in major trouble for masterminding this whole plan.]

I realize this story doesn't paint a very good picture of me. And it's true, I certainly wouldn't have won Sister-of-the-Year for most of my teenage years. But we all laugh about it now, because there was no permanent damage done, no therapy required. And thankfully, we're all really close now, despite many an incident of this very type.

Of sticks and stones

Let us all give thanks to Rico, for inspiring this little stroll down memory lane...

The scene: my childhood home in master-planned suburbia, circa 1993
The principal players: my youngest brother, myself, my mother, and a large handful of very helpful ambulance and hospital staff

It's funny how things can be so important at the time, but later you can't even remember the details. Like what school assignment I thought so important as to lock myself away in my bedroom while "babysitting" my four younger siblings, three of whom are boys, so my mom could do a bit of long-awaited and much-deserved shopping over this particular Christmas break.

Growing up with five children in the family, there was truly never a dull moment. Our house was always full of people and often full of noise, because we lived in the cool house. A trampoline in the big backyard. A pool less than 100 yards down the street. Cable. A constantly growing movie collection. Every Nintendo game known to child-kind. A pool table. A built-in basketball court on the driveway. A pantry and refrigerator stocked with all manner of goodies.

So I didn't find the noise of our full house on this particular day distracting. I was in my room, drowning out the pandemonium that could be heard throughout the rest of the house with my music and tending to my very important school project, as all good babysitters should do. But then, insolence! I was interrupted.

"Nikki!" screamed my youngest brother. "I got a splinter in my leg -- come help me!"

"Don't be such a baby!" I screamed back. "Go get the tweezers and take it out yourself!"

"But it's really big and it hurts really bad -- I need your help!" he insisted.

The nerve! I stormed out of my room to the entry hallway, where he and several other kids who could have been his friends or my other brothers (I can't remember) had been running and sliding on our hardwood floors. Remember how at age 10 we could find fun (and trouble) in the simplest things?

"Let me see it. I can't believe you're being such a baby."

So he proceeded to pull up the leg of his sweatpants to show me this "splinter."

And then... Stomach. In my throat. Room. Spinning. Blackness. Stars.

When I regained full consciousness, I saw a foot-long stick piercing my brother's leg. Yes, you read that right: PIERCING. It went in his knee and came out his calf.

You see, in California we have earthquakes. Big ones, sometimes. And occasionally, things settle. Like the ground. Or the boards comprising our hardwood floors. And when sliding on said floors, one must be careful not to catch an edge.

So I ran to the phone and called 9-1-1. They must've thought I was crazy.

911 Operator: 9-1-1, what is your emergency?
Me: My little brother has a splinter in his leg.
911: A splinter?
Me: Well, not really a splinter. More like a stick.
911: A stick? In his leg?
Me: Yes, it went right through his leg. From the knee to the calf. And it's stuck inside, sticking out both places.
[silence]
Me: Um, I'm pretty sure we need to go to the hospital to have it removed. We live at [insert address].

The ambulance arrived mere seconds before my mom got back. Now I'm not a mother or anything, but I'm pretty sure an ambulance in front of your house isn't exactly what you want to see when you return home.

But the story ends well. My parents went with my brother to the emergency room, where they had to do surgery to take the stick out. In three pieces. Of course, this left me to continue babysitting the other kids. Because, clearly, I was responsible enough to be trusted with that again.

Like I said, never a dull moment at my house.

Humor at the Expense of Others

AKA Lessons in Proofreading

I know. You've probably seen some of these before. And maybe it's weak sauce that I didn't make up something funny of my own. But for some reason, these made me laugh out loud at home by myself when I came across them again today. So I felt compelled to share. Enjoy!

Headlines
Something Went Wrong in Jet Crash, Expert Says

Police Begin Campaign to Run Down Jaywalkers

Panda Mating Fails; Veterinarian Takes Over

Miners Refuse to Work After Death

Juvenile Court to Try Shooting Defendant

War Dims Hope for Peace

If Strike isn’t Settled Quickly, It May Last Awhile

Cold Wave Linked to Temperatures

Enfield (London) Couple Slain; Police Suspect Homicide

Red Tape Holds Up New Bridges

Man Struck by Lightning Faces Battery Charge

New Study of Obesity Looks for Larger Test Group

Astronaut Takes Blame for Gas in Spacecraft

Kids Make Nutritious Snacks

Local High School Dropouts Cut in Half

Hospitals are Sued by 7 Foot Doctors

Typhoon Rips through Cemetery; Hundreds Dead

Signs
(in an office restroom) Toilet out of order…Please use floor below.

(in a laundromat) Automatic Washing Machines: Please remove all your clothes when the light goes out.

(in a London department store) Bargain Basement Upstairs

(in an office) Would the person who took the step ladder yesterday please bring it back or further steps will be taken.

(in an office) After tea break, staff should empty the teapot and stand upside down on the draining board.

(in a secondhand shop) We exchange anything – bicycles, washing machines, etc. Why not bring your wife along and get a wonderful bargain?

(on the window of a health food shop) Closed Due to Illness

(found in a safari park) Elephants Please Stay in Your Car

(at a conference) For anyone who has children and doesn’t know it, there is a day care on the 1st floor.

(near a farmer’s field) The farmer allows walkers to cross the field for free, but the bull charges.

(on the door of a repair shop) We can fix anything. (Please knock hard on the door – the bell doesn’t work.)

Church Bulletins
Don’t let worry kill you – let the church help.

Thursday night - Potluck supper. Prayer and medication to follow.

Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our church and community.

For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs.

This afternoon there will be a meeting in the South and North ends of the church. Children will be baptized at both ends.

Tuesday at 4:00 PM there will be an ice cream social.. All ladies giving milk will please come early.

This being Easter Sunday, we will ask Mrs. Lewis to come forward and lay an egg on the alter.

The service will close with "Little Drops of Water." One of the ladies will start quietly and the rest of the congregation will join in.

Next Sunday a special collection will be taken to defray the cost of the new carpet. All those wishing to do something on the new carpet will come forward and do so.

The ladies of the church have cast off clothing of every kind. They can be seen in the church basement Saturday.

A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall. Music will follow.

Weight Watchers will meet at 7 p.m. at the First Presbyterian Church. Please use large double door at the side entrance.

The senior choir invites any member of the congregation who enjoys sinning to join the choir.

Please join us as we show our support for Amy and Alan in preparing for the girth of their first child.

Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.

The associate minister unveiled the church's new giving campaign slogan last Sunday: "I Upped My Pledge--Up Yours."

8 new choir robes are currently needed, due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.

The outreach committee has enlisted 25 visitors to make calls on people who are not afflicted with any church.

Ushers will eat late comers.

The Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10. All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B.S. is done.

Evening massage - 6 p.m.

The Pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday morning.

The audience is asked to remain seated until the end of the recession.

Low Self-Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 to 8:30 p.m. Please use the back door.

The third verse of Blessed Assurance will be sung without musical accomplishment.

The Rev. Merriwether spoke briefly, much to the delight of the audience.

The pastor will preach his farewell message, after which the choir will sing, "Break Forth Into Joy."

During the absence of our pastor, we enjoyed the rare privilege of hearing a good sermon when J. F. Stubbs supplied our pulpit.

Next Sunday Mrs. Vinson will be soloist for the morning service. The pastor will then speak on "It's a Terrible Experience."

Due to the Rector's illness, Wednesday's healing services will be discontinued until further notice.

Stewardship Offertory: "Jesus Paid It All"

The music for today's service was all composed by George Friedrich Handel in celebration of the 300th anniversary of his birth.

The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare's Hamlet in the church basement on Friday at 7 p.m. The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.

On a church bulletin during the minister's illness: GOD IS GOOD Dr. Hargreaves is better.

The concert held in Fellowship Hall was a great success. Special thanks are due to the minister's daughter, who labored the whole evening at the piano, which as usual fell upon her.

The 1997 Spring Council Retreat will be hell May 10 and 11.

Pastor is on vacation. Massages can be given to church secretary.

22 members were present at the church meeting held at the home of Mrs. Marsha Crutchfield last evening. Mrs. Crutchfield and Mrs. Rankin sang a duet, The Lord Knows Why.

A song fest was hell at the Methodist church Wednesday.

At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be "What is Hell?" Come early and listen to our choir practice.

Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It is a good chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands.

Next Thursday, there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get.

Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on Oct. 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in school days.

And the winner is...

Undercover Celebrity.

For the rest of you, here are the answers from yesterday's game:

1. Wadsworth, Clue
2. Elle Woods, Legally Blonde
3. Ralphie as an Adult/Narrator, A Christmas Story
4. Bill Lumbergh, Office Space
5. Old Woman in Deli, When Harry Met Sally
6. Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Carribbean
7. Sherri Ann Cabot, Best in Show
8. Vivian, Pretty Woman
9. Xander Cage, xXx
10. Ralphie as an Adult/Narrator, A Christmas Story
11. Cher Horowitz, Clueless
12. Milton, Office Space
13. Elle Woods, Legally Blonde
14. Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Carribbean
15. Will, Good Will Hunting
16. Mr. Green, Clue

Why I prefer to buy movies instead of renting...

...because then I can watch them over and over when I'm home sick from work, learning some of my favorite lines to quote in everyday speech.

Since I'm stuck in bed all day today, let's turn it into a game, just for fun. Here are some movie quotes that have recently amused me. Try to guess the character and the movie (leave your guesses in the comments). I'll provide the answers in a later post. Bon chance!

1. "...the double negative has led to proof positive. I'm afraid you gave yourself away." (1985)
2. "I just don't think that Brooke could've done this. Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don't kill their husbands. They just don't." (2001)
3. "NOW it was serious. A double-dog-dare. What else was there but a 'triple dare ya'? And then, the coup de grace of all dares, the sinister triple-dog-dare." (1983)
4. "Hello Peter, what's happening?...I'm going to have to go ahead and ask you to come in on Sunday..." (1999)
5. "I'll have what she's having." (1989)
6. "You need to find yourself a girl, mate. Or perhaps the reason you practice three hours a day is that you already found one, and are otherwise incapable of wooing said strumpet. You're not a eunuch, are you?" (2003)
7. "People say 'oh, but he's so much older than you' and you know what, I'm the one having to push him away. We have so much in common, we both love soup and snow peas, we love the outdoors, and talking and not talking. We could not talk or talk forever and still find things to not talk about." (2000)
8. "In case I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time tonight." (1990)
9. "The things I'm gonna do for my country." (2002)
10. "Aunt Clara had for years not only perpetually labored under the delusion that I was 4 years old, but also a girl." (1983)
11. "Daddy's a litigator. Those are the scariest kind of lawyer. Even Lucy, our maid, is terrified of him. And daddy's so good he gets $500 an hour to fight with people. But he fights with me for free because I'm his daughter." (1995)
12. "...they've moved my desk four times already this year, and I used to be over by the window, and I could see the squirrels, and they were merry, but then, they switched from the Swingline to the Boston stapler, but I kept my Swingline stapler because it didn't bind up as much, and I kept the staples for the Swingline stapler and it's not okay because if they take my stapler then I'll set the building on fire..." (1999)
13. "The rules of hair care are simple and finite. Any Cosmo girl would have known." (2001)
14. "I think we've all arrived at a very special place. Spiritually, ecumenically, grammatically." (2003)
15. "...I got her number. How do you like them apples?" (1997)
16. "They all did it. But if you wanna know who killed Mr. Boddy, I did. In the hall. With the revolver. All right, Chief, take'em away. I'm gonna go home and sleep with my wife." (1985)

Why I Love Being an Aunt

My niece (aka, the cutest baby to ever walk the planet) just had her first birthday. Of course, this momentous occasion was commemorated at her first party, complete with her very own cake to dive into. Now, if you don't love this face, you are seriously dead inside.

Speechless

Well, voiceless, anyways. My vocal cords apparently have the stamina of a 13-year-old male virgin. I'm at a weeklong worship conference for church, and after two days of singing, I have absolutely no voice left. What's more, I have a voice lesson tomorrow with the best vocal coach. In all the world. The very man I've been dying to take a lesson from, even though I totally couldn't afford it, for over a year. Seth Riggs. And then, after a week of vocal overuse and the resulting fatigue, I have two gigs this weekend.

I shouldn't complain -- I'm fortunate to have so much work this month. Most musicians would love to have my schedule. But to do a show without a healthy voice is torture. Argh!

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star

My first-ever CD was released last Saturday. Of course, this very limited release is not expected by anyone to go platinum, or even gold for that matter. But I don't have to tell you, especially since most of you who read this haven't heard me shut up about it since I started recording it, that I was incredibly excited. And although it is highly unlikely to win any Grammys, or lead to great fame or fortune, and although I remain a star only inside my own mind, I feel so richly blessed to have so many opportunities to do something I love, and to actually get paid to do it!

So I've decided to use this post to dedicate this, my debut album, with overflowing gratitude first to God, for giving me this talent and the opportunities to discover and develop it. To my parents, for always believing in and supporting me. To Pete and Christi, for challenging me and teaching me how to constantly improve my voice. To Kara, for the countless hours spent together in our youth singing around the piano, and then for marrying Pete's son and having Emma, thereby allowing me this amazing opportunity. To Shannon, for getting me to sing again after the near atrophy of my vocal chords, even if it was at the Foxfire. To Shadd, for insisting that I sign your copy of the CD as if I was a big star. To T, J, D, J, J, J, and P, for being so patient and understanding of my schedule over the past year, even when it would conflict with our plans. To Gracie, for enduring many nights when mommy wasn't home. And to all of my friends and family who love me even when I use the word "gig". Cheers!

Afternoon Tee Party

I fear the amusement of this afternoon will come at my own expense.

You see, this morning I shook off the dust and cobwebs from my golf clubs, which have been severely neglected for the last 16 months. And now, after letting my golf muscles (and any skill that I might have possessed in my former life when I golfed somewhat regularly) atrophy to the point where I'm not even sure I remember how to hold the club, I am supposed to play with someone who I want to impress. I can only hope that he'll have a sense of humor as I try to remember how to swing that thing so that it makes contact with the ball. Or as I search endlessly for my ball in the trees. Or as I pull out flip-flops from my bag so I can at least be comfortable during the hours I will surely spend in the sand.

I'm quite sure I'll achieve the highest score. (Not a good thing, for all you non-golfers.) Should make for entertaining stories, anyways. Fore!