Musings

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

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.


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
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

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!")

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:

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.

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.

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