I have a theory about people with kids. Everything they said they would never do, all the "I'll never let my kids do that..." and the "I'll never talk to my kids in that baby voice..." or the ever-classic "I'll never be one of those parents..." -they go down the drain. Slap a baby in the arms of college English professor, and suddenly you'd think you're talking to Lamb Chop.



I don't understand it, not even a little bit, but I've seen it happen so many times. There isn't a scientific name for this strange occurrence, but for our purposes we'll call it the "Baby Phenomenon".

Likely the most disturbing example of this phenomenon, is this little gem. Feast your eyes on the denim diaper.



Don't try to adjust your screen, my friends. That really is a diaper, and it really looks like a pair of jean shorts.

If you find yourself saying "This is the cutest thing I've ever seen!!", excuse me while I call the authorities for you. This is not cute! This is weird! First of all, I can excuse this on a little girl, it is mildly less awkward on a little girl. I don't know if you've noticed, but they look like baby daisy dukes. Put these on a little boy, and you've got a cross-dressing baby with a thing for Dukes of Hazzard.

Next thing, would you wear denim-patterned underwear as pants? C'mon, can't you just see the convenience of not having to wear pants to work because your underwear looks like blue jeans? I didn't think so. Let's take this a step further, what if they made Denim Depends? You know, the diapers for the elderly.

You: "Um, I don't know if you know this, but Grandma Moses is watering the plants...and she's not wearing any pants. The neighbors are staring."

Me: "No sweat, she's got on Denim Depends."

You: "Oh, thank goodness. Hey, have you been keeping up with the World Cup?"


No, I don't think so.

I don't have children, but I know even I am not immune to the Baby Phenomenon. I could be one of those parents one day, but if I ever start talking like Lamb Chop and dressing my kids in denim pull-ups, point me back in the right direction. Show me the light, and I will do the same for you. Together, we can beat the Baby Phenomenon.

-Elizabeth



If you know me, and know me well, you are completely aware of my forgetfulness.
It's bad, guys. I ask "has anyone seen my keys?", "where is my wallet?", "do you know where I left my inhaler?", and the ever-classic "where on earth did I park my car???" It's ridiculous. Fortunately, I have friends and family who help me keep up with my belongings.

Though several things slip my mind, there are a few things I doubt I'll ever forget. One time, when I was little, I put ear muffs on a box of crackers because my mom told me the mouse trap behind the fridge was going to make a loud pop. I didn't want the box of crackers to be startled. When I was in elementary school, my teacher gave me an acronym to help me remember cardinal directions: "Never Eat Shredded Wheat." The most random jewel floating around in my brain is that basketballs have approximately 35,000 dots on them. Why do I remember these things? I have no idea. If you figure it out, please explain.

Yesterday, at around 7 pm, I drove away from my home of almost a year. Before I turned the key in my ignition, I looked at my former apartment's window, and wept. Apartment 411 will always hold a special place in my heart. It was the place I burned an entire pan of brownies. It's where Catie and I would hold our 2 am conversations in the hallway; where T and I prayed for each other, where Rascal and I pretended to be dinosaurs, and where C-Tina and I became the female version of a bromance. We became sisters in this apartment, and I can't express in words how amazing this group of women are. They are beautiful, strong, intelligent, women of God. I love them with the whole of my heart.



One floor down, was the home of some of the best gentlemen I've been privileged to encounter (Zach is totally included, even though he didn't officially live there). I studied, played Rock Band , laughed, cried, danced, and sang with these guys. They escorted my sisters and I from the parking lot late at night, they cooked with us, they told us we were beautiful when weren't having the best day. Amazing, right? Yea, I like to think so.

I thought about these things as I gazed at my apartment window. We certainly were a family, weren't we? Ask any of them, and they will tell you the same. We were, and are, a family of sorts. No matter what happens at the end of the day, no matter how many stupid decisions we make, no matter where we all end up; we are a family.

I'm sorry for all of the mush. It just makes me happy to realize this "ending" is not actually the end. Sure, this is the closing of one chapter, but there are so many new things left for us to weather; and for us to rejoice over.

I may always lose my keys, and I may never remember the location of my wallet, but there are people and moments in my life that I will not forget. To my friends, those acquired at LSU
and those who were not,

I will never forget you. Forever implanted in my heart, you're right up there with crackers and shredded wheat. I love you, and I thank God for the roles you play in my life. God bless you all in your endeavors.

Hand in hand, let's begin our next big adventures together.


Peace,
Elizabeth


This, is Emily.

We've been friends for a long time.

She's one classy lady...

She's wonderful with children...

...promotes healthy eating...

...and remains to be one of the most beautiful people I know; inside and out.
In a lot of ways, she's more like family, and I love her.
She is my sister.


Not to mention...

She thinks I'm pretty cool. And I mean, who wouldn't?

She'll never admit it, but it's true...

...so true.

I think I'll keep her.

Peace and Love,
Elizabeth



Though I recently started catching up on the missed Disney movies of my youth, for a long time The Jungle Book, Aladdin, and Beauty and the Beast were the only Disney movies I watched. We didn't have a lot of money when I was little, so we didn't go to many movies. Please don't misunderstand, I had a great childhood, I just had limited Disney knowledge.

I remember being disappointed when my dad came home with a VHS copy of The Jungle Book. I wanted a princess movie, like most little girls, and I couldn't figure out why my father would think I wanted to watch a "boy" movie with a bear and half-naked boy on the cover! We rarely got new movies, this was a bummer, or so I thought...

My dad and I curled up on the recliner, and watched the movie together. I stubbornly tried not to like it, but eventually Mowgli and Baloo won me over. It quickly became my favorite cartoon, and still is.

If you've ever seen the movie/read the book, you know Mowgli was reared by wolves. When I was little, my dad and I would pretend to be in a wolf pack. I was a baby wolf at least once a day back then. We would "howl" at the moon, and pretend to take "wolf naps" all the time.

My favorite daddy's girl moments were usually just before he tucked me in bed for the night. He would cradle me in his arms, sway me back and forth saying "just a baby panther cub, sleeping in a tree." I would always giggle because I knew the "wind" would eventually blow hard enough to "break the tree limb". That's when dad would say "Oh noooo!" and drop me on the bed. I loved it! I think I made him tuck me in like that until I was 10. I was probably too heavy, but it didn't matter to him.

For my birthday, my dad gave me the money to get a copy of Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book. He wanted me to have a nice copy, and since most copies in his local bookstore would be paperback, he told me to buy it while I was at school and bring it back to him. I did so, and today he returned it to me. On the inside cover, he wrote these words:

With this book, and my undying love,
you are set for many years of joy and contentment.

It is my fervent wish that you may glean from these pages
many of the answers to life's little mysteries.
There is honor, dignity, and order contained in Kipling's words of wisdom.
I discovered these works at fifteen, and it still brings me peace today at sixty.

Happy birthday, my precious daughter.

Love,
Daddy


I've read the Jungle Book stories many times before, but something tells me reading it this time around will be different. I'm older, and hopefully more appreciative of the simple things life has to offer. I know it's trite, but after all... It's those simple, bare necessities that matter most, right?

;)

Peace and Love,
Elizabeth






The choir director from my home church called a few weeks back and asked me to sing "Orphans of God" during our annual Christmas program; which conveniently takes place tonight. I got home just in time for the dress rehearsal. On the way home, I popped the choir CD into my car stereo, and practiced my song a few times. I got bored with it after a while, so I decided to listen to some of the other songs on the CD. I let each song play about 10 seconds before I hit the "next" button, until I landed one called, "This is Our God".

I started weeping in my car.

Now before you laugh at how much of a cry-baby I am, let me explain myself! Being an ex-English major, I pay attention to lyrics. Poetry is one of my most favorite forms of expression, and music is poetry as far as I'm concerned. Let me hit you with a kitty wig (confused? its just my slang for "check out this ball of AMAZING!")
________________________________________



Verse 1:
Who is this child asleep in the manger?

Tender and mild, this intimate Stranger?

Recklessly, wildly loving a dangerous world.

Who is this light invading our darkness?

Glorious might, the sun rising for us.

Conquering night, He captures the hardest of hearts. We sing:

Chorus 1:
This is our God, living and breathing.

Call Him courageous, relentless, and brave.

This is our God, loving and reaching,

Scandalous mercy and mighty to save.

Hallelujah! This is our God!
Hallelujah! This is our God!
Hallelujah! This is our God! Sing praise.

Verse 2:
Who is this One who will not condemn us?

Why would He come to shoulder our sentence?

Nothing we've done will keep Him from giving us grace.

Who is this One we watch and we're speechless?

God's only Son embracing our weakness.

He overcomes all death and He frees us to live. And we sing:
Chorus 2:
This is our God, suffering and dying.

Call Him the Hero redeeming the lost.

This is our God, love sacrificing,All that is holy, accepting our cross.

Hallelujah! This is our God!

Hallelujah! This is our God!

Hallelujah! This is our God! Sing praise.
________________________________________
I took the liberty of bolding and greening (is that even a word?) my favorite lines. I think I love these lyrics so much because they're not the common phrases used in contemporary Christian music. Adjectives such as: reckless, courageous, relentless, brave, scandalous, mighty, and heroic; are not words I would normally group together. Yet, they describe His love for us so wonderfully!

I mean, take the definition of reckless:
________________________________________
"reck⋅less"
–adjective
1. Utterly unconcerned about the consequences of some action; without caution; careless (usually fol. by of): to be reckless of danger.

2. Characterized by or proceeding from such carelessness: "reckless extravagance."
________________________________________

Isn't that just like God?! He doesn't withhold any of His deepest affections for us. His love, in so many ways, is entirely extravagant. How He could love every one of us with so much passion, so much reckless extravagance, I'll never understand. But He does, and its beautiful.

The King of Kings, Lord of Lords, courageous Lion of Judah...loves me.

I hope I never take it for granted; though I'm sure I often have. Doesn't matter to Him, He still pursues my heart.
He pursues us all.



Sorry if this post is long, I get super excited about God's love. May His peace envelope you this Christmas season, wherever you are in your journey.

I know you can't see me, but I'm sending "blogger-love" in your direction!


-Lil E



Today at lunch I did a very child-like thing.


In order to get the full effect of "child-like", you'll need the complete situation.

Gang 408 (Room 408 plus a few extraordinary individuals) decided to eat at our college's swank-fest, known as the Faculty Club.



It's not a black tie affair, just a finer dining experience than the student union. I ordered Grilled Tilapia Napoleon, with a Tomato Basil soup starter...it was delish. Everyone seemed to be enjoying their food. Then came the dessert tray. Deutsch and I decided to split a strawberry shortcake. We both like our sweets, a lot, but when it came down to the last morsel of strawberry goodness...the claws came out.


Were we fighting over who got the last bite? I guess you could say that. The loser was the unlucky soul to have the last spoonful.

Deutsch took what he thought would be his last spoonful and nudged the remaining shortcake in my direction, saying "yours". I spooned half of the the morsel, nudged it back to him and said "yours".


Deutsch has these moments where his eyes flash, his grin turns up, and his head cocks to the side like he's about to tell the best "yo mama" joke you've ever heard. It scares the crap out of me. For our purposes we'll call this the "hit 'em with a kitty wig" look. If you're confused, it's best you stay that way.

Anyway, he spooned up half of the half I left on the plate, nudged it back, and said "yours". In astonishment I looked at him and said "are we really gonna play this game?", to which he responded with the "hit 'em with a kitty wig" look. T, Rascal, Ash, Libbs, Baum, and Battle Axe knew my goose was cooked, but the battle lines had been drawn; I had to try.


It got pretty disgusting. We eventually began fishing for crumbs in the strawberry syrup; ending each conquest with a smart elic "YOURS". It seemed this exchange would never end, until T and Rascal devised an evil scheme to end it.

Ok, neither one of them know evil; "clever" is likely a more appropriate adjective.

The crumbs kept getting crunchier with every turn. I thought is was strange, but brushed it off for the sake of the game. Until I noticed a rather large chunk appear in the midst of the syrup, one that had obviously not been there before...Deutsch was hovering over the plate. I immediately thought the disgusting chunk came from him. Let me just tell you, I thought I was going to die. Maybe that's dramatic, but there are few things that put me in that state: snakes, loud/surprising noises, and bodily fluids. I count the "chunk" as the last one. Grossed out yet? You should be, I don't think we could be friends if you liked that sort of thing.

Deutsch looked at me with surprise, he apparently thought the same chunk came from me. Across the table I could see Rascal shaking as if something was pretty darn funny. T informed me of their plot to end the childishness, they were throwing Rascal's pie crust in our syrup. Tricky, tricky little women!




I folded in the end, too much for me to handle. I maintain that I would have won, had I not been interrupted by the gross body flake I thought was floating in my field of destruction. We shall war again Deutsch, we shall war again.

-Lil E


Yes folks, that's right, I caved. I actually opened this account long ago, but found a plethora of reasons why I couldn't post the first blog entry. Now that this semester has settled down a bit, I have no more excuses.


This is where I'll release my thoughts, musings if you will. Some of them will be intellectually stimulating, and some will be nonesense. I like nonsense, so expect quite a bit of that.
I suppose that's it, this concludes my first entry.
Until next time,
E