Live. Laugh. Love. Smile?

  







I'm actually blogging again. *Gasp!*

But in all seriousness, I have not completely abandoned my poor blog. I just took a much needed detox from the blogging world. And now I'm back! For how long, I'm not sure.

Anyway, today I got my braces off!

As a point of interest, my orthodontist has a big, metal gong on the lobby wall, which gets struck with a mallet periodically, whenever a client gets their braces off (well, they get the option to hit it. "Let Freedom Ring").
I absolutely hit that gong today. Resounding all throughout the building, it metaphorically echoed my excitement. Sheer elation, is more like it.

Nothing can tame this glorious feeling... or the all-engulfing smile on my face right now. Those three years were well worth the wait.

Yes, I'm still smiling. From ear to ear! Absolutely wonderful.

Matthew

This is the sibling closest in age to me. 

Not many guys would stay-up late with a sister, watching her favorite movie. But my brother did. 

I happen to know that he only suffered through it to spend time with me. Anne of Green Gables is hardly a masculine movie - there are no guns (I don't count the third one), and there is no real action. 

To be honest, I hadn't really noticed how he's grown-up in the last few months. 

 How much taller he is. How much older his voice sounds. How handsome he has become. 

Tonight I realized it all. In a startling moment, the childhood we shared flashed before my eyes. And suddenly, I was wondering who the heck this guy was standing in front of me. 

What happened to the little kid I used to play pretend with? 

While I was helping him get ready tonight, we stood side-by-side. Something in the mirror caught my attention. Is he really an inch taller than me? Shoot! I knew this day would come...

I love his big heart, mischievous eyes, and quirky sense of humor. And even though I give him a hard time, I really do love the kid. Really. A lot.

*Yes, I took the above picture.

Adventures in Babysitting: Temptation

After school today, I got to babysit three of the sweetest kids. One boy and two girls, ages 6, 4, and 1-ish (respectively). Yes, they're completely adorable.

Every night before bed, they read a Bible Story from their little children's Bible. Tonight we read about how Jesus was temped by Satan in the wilderness.

The boy is so sweet... but very inquisitive. He always has a question. And a question about that question. And a question about the answer to that question. And a question about the answer of the question about that question.

Are you tracking?

This kid is super intelligent. When I read the Bible story tonight, I wasn't really expecting the in-depth questions that followed.

"What is 'temptation', Chris?"*

"Why does Satan tempt people?"

"Were you ever tempted?"

"When was your first time being tempted?"

"What are you tempted with?"

When he wasn't satisfied with my vague answers he asked more pointedly:
"But, like, specifically. What is your temptation right now?"

I answered all these questions (and a few more) to the best of my ability. For the most part, I'm glad to explain things... which is probably why this conversation lasted around ten minutes.

Later, when their parents got home, I told them all about the night (conversations included). And we laughed.
Then the mom looked at me and said, "I hope you didn't say anything to them about 'lustful thoughts'. Because how would you explain that?"

I'm glad she was only joking. She knows I'm not like that...

Babysitting is always an adventure - I like it. A lot.

*He calls me Chris when he can't remember my full name — its adorable.

Undignified.

Last night on my way to dance class, I turned on the radio (FLR) and cranked up the volume.

As I was jamming down the road (and by "jamming" I literally mean singing at the top of my lungs, bobbing my head around, and hitting the steering wheel in time with the beat), it never occurred to me that somebody might see me. Much less, somebody I know. I was just having a grand old time singing my heart out to Jesus. Check out this post - it's sort of ironic.

I'm sure I looked insane — it was a Christian oldie and I was especially thrilled.

Via my peripheral vision, I saw a car go by.
And I looked over just in time to catch one of my friends looking at me.

Of course this information didn't register quickly enough and as I looked, I just kept bobbing my head and singing. (I'm not sure exactly what they saw... maybe I don't want to know.)

Then, realizing what I looked like, seized the steering wheel and said, "Shoot! Shoot! Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!!"

That's right. Five.

Fabulous.

This was clearly not an opportune moment to spy me out on the road.
After that, I didn't sing anymore.



Side note: If you saw me last night, you know who you are. If you didn't... well, never mind.

Paybacks, Baby!

Jon is home for a long weekend. College people get a Fall Break...  no, I'm not jealous.

Okay, maybe just a little. Shoot! I can't lie worth a dime.

Well, Jon is Josiah's favorite person — he (bless his 4-year-old little heart) gets so excited when Jon comes home from college.


Anyway, here's the story:

After dinner tonight, I gathered-up all the garbage in our house.  I took several (3) large, white trash bags to our dumpster around back (because I'm a good daughter like that). Meanwhile, Josiah was chasing Jon around our house.

When I opened the door to come back inside,  the little punk jumped out from behind a nearby wall and screamed "RAWER!!"

I jumped.

He looked at me and sighed with acute disappointment, "You're not Jon."

Then he had a dilemma — he didn't know where Jon was. "Jon? Jon? Where are you, Jon? Are you here? Jon? Where are you? Jonnnnn!!!"

Hearing his pleading little voice go into the bathroom, I smiled. I knew just what I'd do.

I followed him into the dark bathroom very stealthily (that sounds bad, but he just forgot to turn on the light). I wanted to laugh when he lifted-up the toilet seat.

Was he really gonna look for my almost 20 (gosh, that's weird) year-old brother... in the depths of that toilet? Really?

I jumped out from behind and screamed "RAWER!!!"...  He said "AHHH!!" It was dark.  It all happened so fast. He almost sprayed me! Luckily I have cat-like instincts and avoided the possible mess.   And he's a little man-child, so it didn't bother him much.

Paybacks, baby. Oh yes!

How was I supposed to know he was going to the bathroom? Who in the world uses the bathroom without closing the door or turing on the light?

I felt confused for a while. Then I ate a cookie with a glass of cold milk while processing this information.


Oh! And just in case you're wondering, I'm writing this because I've been done with school since 3pm. Now that's what I'm talking about.

Today is a Winding Road

(Kudos to you if you know what song my title is from.)

Today I realized that:

• It is very hard to drive with high-heels. Practically impossible, but I did. So that makes me amazing, right?

• My ipod is dead. 

• I shouldn't save a literary analysis to write the day before it is due. What's wrong with me? Help?

• The guy at Biggby gives me the creeps. "What's up, Doll-face?" Uhhh... 

• When my long-lost friend leaves a surprise attack message on my phone, all is right with the world. At least for a few seconds.

• I appreciate my drivers license more than I ever could have anticipated.

• French is harder than it sounds. Bonsoir?

• God should always come before school. When this happens, He blesses me. Noted.

• Chicken fried rice is the best. 

Just kidding, smoked salmon is. Or maybe corn chowder. But then again, hamburger helper feeds the cravings of my soul.  Mexican beans and rice is delicious. However, I adore strawberries. Also, sometimes I crave m&ms.
And you know how I feel about apples... I could live off of apples (sort of). But not the grainy kind... they have to be crisp and sweet, with a little bit of tart. Basically like Honeycrisp. Now I have an intense desire to go apple picking.
Obviously I need to reevaluate my "favorite food"- I have too many. I'll get back to you on this.

• Laundry is not my forte. But, neither is math... or soccer, or advanced Bio. 

• I should be studying right now. But I'm tired of that.

• I'm kind of nervous to take the ACT in 20 days. 

• Josiah calls our doorbell "that ding-dong thing." Yeah...

• You don't really need to know all this. Sorry if I completely wasted your time.

Peace out.

P.S. 

Why do you even read my blog? Honestly, I want to know (almost as much as I want to pick apples right now). So please tell me.

Or rather, why are you not reading my blog (but you wouldn't answer that because you couldn't have read it... so, never mind).

I'll try to spice it up a little for you. Actually, maybe not. My life is not very spicy. But still, I'll try. 

Cover-Art Quandary.

Beowulf.

Enthralled in the heroism (I'm a sucker for that) and completely immersed in the adventure, I finished the book (poem) in basically a day flat. And almost cried at the end... I really need to get out more.
Seriously. 


No, I don't think I'll write my Literary Analysis on it, but the story did captivate me entirely.


The only thing that bothers me now is the fact that I cannot understand the cover art. 
Is the man facing the front... or the back? 


I've only gotten conflicting answers, but I feel strongly that he is facing the front (my mom agrees with my perspective). 
Matt told me to "Google it". This provided zero help — apparently nobody has bothered to question the cover art of Beowulf.


So, do you think that the little indent on the head is his nose or ponytail? (Did Beowulf even have a ponytail?) 

If you want to kill some time, I'd appreciate your help opinion. Clearly, I need it. And sleep.


Goodnight.

Your Hands

Your Hands by J.J Heller is at the top of my "favorites list" right now.

For me, it hits home deep and hard. Especially when it plays while I'm on my way to ballet.
In which case, acutely deep... and hard.
Sometimes I even sing along with the radio (at the very top of my breathy lungs).

But nobody ever sees this happen.

Tuesday Truths: School

6:00 am is not a good thing.

Truth #1: Today was my first day of 11^th grade.

Truth #2: I wish summer was still here.

Truth #3: Three (THREE?!) papers are due next week.

Truth #4: I have a test next week.

Truth #5: I also have a quiz next week.

 Truth #6: My backpack weighs around 50lbs. *

Truth #7: I'll take the SAT on Saturday.

 Truth #8: I am expected to read 2190 verses of Beowulf, The Dream of the Road, and the Wanderer before next week. Moreover, analyze them. For one class.

Truth #9: Advanced Biology scares the living daylights out of me (awkward is now officially in my vocabulary). Perhaps my ultra sensitized “home schooled” self will toughen. Perhaps.

Truth #10: I will never be the same after The Anatomy Coloring Book. Never.

 Truth #11: I might cry now.

Truth #12: I should not be on Blogger.

 Truth #13: I might die.

 Truth #14: I played spoons during study-hall… and felt guilty for not doing homework. 

Truth #15: I hope I do not die.

 Truth #16: Friends are a blessing form God.

Truth #17: Government and Economics looks like a fun place to be at 8:30am.

Truth #18: T-dub makes me tired, weird, and my eyes bloodshot.

Truth #19: I would like to eat ice cream now.

Is this normal?

Yeah, I thought so.

Give me a month; I'll be fine. 

And now, back to Beowulf.

*I’m not exaggerating about my backpack. Just ask my dad's shoulder. 

My Little Bug-Hero

Taking notice of the fact that my littlest brother enjoys killing "setting free" various insects, the gears in my brain started to turn. 
They turned until I had hatched a brilliant plan. Said plan would be the solution to a dilemma I'd been facing. 


My dilemma: I don't like anything about bugs spiders and yet, I can't bring myself to kill them. 
No, I'm not a wimp. Why'd you ask?


Well, this is most unfortunate and not exactly ideal for my situation. Also, nobody in my family will lend any sympathy to my plight. Did I fail to mention that this is a legitimate fear? I have shed tears. Indeed.


The solution: Since Josiah enjoys exterminating the creepy-crawly things on our back patio in his free time, I figure, why not just make him take care of the bugs spiders inside the house? Why not?


And so, I make my almost four-year old punk of a brother kill insects for me. For free. And he loves it. 


Brilliant much?
Yes, thanks.

Josiah: *proudly*  "Just call me Bug-Hero."

Christine: *suppressing giggles*   "Whatever you say, Bug-Hero." 

Later that day.

Christine: "Hey Josiah David, can you quick help me?"

Josiah: *indignant*  "No! I am not Josiah David anymore. I'm Bug-Hero. 'Member?"

Christine: "Oh, sorry Bug-Hero. Hey, look! There's a Ladybug on our ceiling!"

Josiah: "The Ladybug lost his family. That's very sad. Right?" 

Christine: "Yea Bug-Hero, that is very sad."

Josiah: "Bug-Heros don't kill Ladybugs. Is that right, Tristine?"

Christine: "Uhh, yea. Right, Josiah."

This is a phase for him; I just know it. But I sincerely hope he will not outgrow this bug-killing chapter of life. 

*He calls me Tristine... and Teener-tot. The little punk.

Just Follow the Yellow Brick Road

The other day I was having my devotional time. Well actually, I really can't call it that. It's more like a date with God... except reverent, and holy.

In this alone time, I usually pray that God would prepare my heart for what He is going to teach me through His Word that particular day. Then, I flip my Bible open and the first passage I lay eyes on is the one I read. Usually.

Before you condemn me for not having a good, solid, structured devotional time, just hear me out. God has really used this method of studying His Word in my life. He has guided me to passages that are so applicable to my life; sometimes it scares me. 

Clearly, He knows me better than I know myself.

So anyway, I was reading my Bible - just having some quality time with God. You know?

For a whole week the only passage I was led to was Acts 23.  

Everyday I turned with slightly glazed eyes to Acts 23, assuming I was simply not letting Him lead me. How could that verse apply to my life? 

And every day I perused the Bible, hoping to find something else - anything that was more applicable to my life. 

"Will my Bible only open to page 1028 forever?" ~my brain.

After a week of opening my Bible and giving a discontented sigh, I sat down on Sunday night and prayed. Like, really prayed.

After communing with my Savior, I opened His Word again. Reading Acts 23 refreshed, my eyes were finally opened to what He needed to show me.

This verse leapt off the page at me - when Paul stood before the Sanhedrin saying, '"My brothers, I have fulfilled my duty to God in all good conscience to this day"' (Acts 23:1).  How cool is that! Paul has an amazing testimony.

What he was saying was that there was nothing more he had to do for God to take him home — he had already fulfilled his duty before God. 

I deeply desire to be a completed work in Christ - I want Him to use me, sculpt me, refine my imperfections.

When I get to heaven, I desperately want to hear Him say, "Well done, good and faithful servant!" As I kneeled before God that night, I prayed that I might someday say I have fulfilled my duty to God. 

Jeremiah 18:4: "But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him."

Now that's a chewy thought. Just sayin'.

SpringHill 2010!

Sorry about not posting in a while — my life has been pretty busy. Yes, I do actually have a life (sometimes I need to remind myself of this). Good grief!

Camp was pretty interesting this year.

Because I love spending time with my friend Jessica, I pretended to be a 15 year old (the cut-off age for camp is 16).

Actually I really didn't pretend. You see, we just wrote on my form that I was 15. When I finally got to the cabin, I let it leak that my actual age is 16. And they were fine with that... for the most part.
And so, you see, I am not a delinquent. I pinky promise.

With that established, we can move on to more important things. Like, how we apparently got head lice. And, how tornados and thunder storms visited almost every night. And also how our cabin faced several other unique challenges. What a hilarious week!

Was this punishment for breaking the rules?

God was (and is) in control of everything. He taught me a lot while I was at camp this year.

We blobbed, zip-lined, rock-climbed, played the Ninja game, played 6-square, rode horses, did archery, and shot a 22 caliber skeet rifle (which kicked, bruised, and ultimately gave me great bragging rights). She tubed (only because tubing scares me to death). We played paintball - I got shot in the hand and she got shot in the helmet (pretty hard-core, right? Yeah, I thought so).

Overall I had a great time; I'm definitely thankful for the opportunity and chance to go.

*I don't actually believe I was being punished for breaking the rules. However, the thought did briefly cross my mind.

Before the Zipline

For tradition's sake.

Silly faces

Matt and I. 

Just by being his older sister and declaring my age, I was made instantly popular.

Go figure.

Determined.

Wanting to push myself further in the area of ballet, I enrolled in a more intense ballet academy. I signed-up for two classes (on Tuesday and Thursday nights). 

Here's an afternoon in the life of a klutzy ballerina:

Usually I walk into the small dressing room a little early (5-10 minutes), already full with the typical ballet dancers. You know the type, super petite, talented, stuck-up nine year-olds. Did I mention that most of them are at least five years younger than me... and they are already incredible dancers. Basically, I feel about as graceful as an elephant (and as doofy as one, too), just standing next to these girls. 

Smiling at everyone, I quietly put my pointe shoes on and waited for the class to start. Icy glares and silence filled the small room.

It gets pretty awkward, not gonna lie.  

After what seems like the longest five minutes ever, the instructor summons us to class. While she starts the monotonous music, I find a place at the barre and try my very hardest not to feel self-conscious. 

This music bothers me because it falls flat every three stanzas. It sounds like an ambulance swerving off the road; I don't know why it doesn't seem to drive the others absolutely crazy.

As the instructor glides to the middle of the room, she makes up a difficult and lengthy combination and teaches it to us. This process takes around ten minutes. 

My silent thoughts: "Umm, well, maybe if I could remember the combination of tendus, leg switches, combreas, developes, guccigas, and portepbreas... wait! Yes! I will just look at the girl in front of me! Perfect. Wait, backwards now? The other side? Really? No way... uhh. What's going on? Oh, brother, I'm totally lost! There's nobody in front of me now. Shoot! She's coming over here. Maybe if I smile..."

She stops the music and comes over to me; my heart-rate immediately skyrockets. After telling me (and the class) everything that I didn't do correctly for several minutes, she walks away and starts the next sequence of combinations. Perfect.

The barre time always feels like it should be ended sooner. 

Corner time comes directly after barre time. This is not much better — she teaches us chain combinations out in the center of the floor. We are then expected to travel from the corner of the room, one at a time. Trying to keep rhythm with this random music is hard enough, but remembering all the steps, hand and head positions, while looking graceful is next to impossible for me. 

My turn takes much longer than everyone else's. After finally stumbling through, the music starts over and we [apparently] reverse everything in our brains and go from the other side. 

This particular form of humiliation is especially tragic because there is no hope on earth for me. 

Last week, after a particularly sad attempt, my instructor said, "Oh, Christine! That was completely... wrong. Umm, but your feet looked nice."

I said, "I'm sorry. I tried! I really did."

She said, "I know, dear. That's the sad part."

My instructor must think I'm a complete dunce — but I don't blame her. 

It qualifies as one of those situations where you either laugh or cry (I'm not gonna say I never cry about this, because that would not be the truth). 

But the look on the girls faces as I drove myself away was priceless — their mouths were gaping. It almost made up for the evening of failures. I laughed.

Do you know what kept coming to my mind in those embarrassing few hours?

The thought that I have a life worth living. I am loved by my God, family, and friends whether or not I'm an ace ballet dancer or prima ballerina - my life has purpose and meaning outside of ballet. 

Also, these classes apparently build character. You know, the kind of character that could only come from outright humiliation. 

When I was driving home last Thursday night, I asked God to give me determination, grit, drive, and strength for this class. 

He definitely provided. 

I'm determined to stick it out. I will get better. And even if I'm only a light for Christ, it'll all be worth it. 

Many people have asked me why I continue to dance. And the only answer I can give is that I love it. Sure, it's hard to go to the classes. But I ultimately love the grace, poise, and strength — ballet is a part of me. If I didn't dance, I'm sure I'd watch it, read about it, and dream about it. 

I believe God places unique desires and challenges in my life for specific purposes. And so, I glorify Him who made me to dance, through continuing to train myself.

I refuse to quit just because its hard. This ballerina's gonna be on her toes for at least two more years.

What Happened on the 4th of July?

Sorry, I'm not going to give a patriotic history lesson. Today I am going tell you all about my 4th of July experience from this very year.  

Actually, I do happen to enjoy history and would be more than glad to indulge any curious ears, but unless you are an international reader... or just uninformed (which would be sad), you probably don't need me to school you on how America gained its independence from Great Britain. 

Anyway, on Sunday afternoon, Jon drove Sophie and I over to our friends' house for their annual 4th of July bash. With friends, food, and fun, the afternoon was practically perfect in almost every possible way.

You know, when it's 93 degrees outside, water activities are always choice. So, we suited-up and waded into their pool; the water was deliciously refreshing. 

Well, dinnertime came and we sat by the pool with our food. Apparently this was not exactly a wise decision - several of the guys thought it would be good fun to do cannonballs... and see how big of a splash they could make.

It was like sitting in the front row at a Sea World show. 

We (and our food) were continuously doused with pool water. It definitely took the edge off the heat, that's for sure.

After a while of eating soggy hamburgers and potato salad, we waited for the guys to clear-out and we (the girls) decided to go back into the water. Thinking it would be fun to jump into the pool together, while holding hands, we lined up and counted.

Before reaching "two" we heard a splash. A girl was pushed (PUSHED!!!) in the water by a boy (I'm purposely not saying names).

As I was leaning over to help her, I was pushed in, too. Yes, right on top of her!

All of the sudden, my nose was burning and my eyes were stinging. 

Then I felt my knee hit something hard.  

When we both came spluttering to the surface, there was blood. She was bleeding and it was my fault! 

Sopping wet, I followed her out of the pool. She was hurt, bleeding, and probably hated me. Not stopping for a towel, I ran after her into the house. 

Good thing one of the mothers was an ER nurse (very convenient). She helped my friend while I apologized (it was all very pathetic). 

Wincing at the pain, she listened to my explanation and forgave me. But no amount of apology could take the pain, swelling, and blood away. 

Through our tear-filled eyes (mine of sorrow, hers of pain), I heard the mom/nurse say I had knocked her bottom front tooth loose and split her lip. 

After getting an ice-pack, I had to go back outside (I was making puddles of water in the house). 

Sitting by the pool, I almost started crying. Even though it was an accident, I felt absolutely horrible. Also, I was a little upset at the guy who caused the accident. At least he was sorry. 

But the poor victim of my knee almost had to get stitches because her lip wouldn't stop bleeding!

After a little while, she was feeling somewhat better, and the party continued. 

We all had a good time, but that sort of killed the celebration mood for me... and after a little more swimming and chatting with friends, I went home. 

Instead of being traditional and going to see the fireworks that night, Jon and Matt dragged me to the movie Knight and Day. Judging between the delusional fits of laughter and our ghetto talk, I'd say we had a grand old time rollin' to the theater in The Golden Marshmallow.

I'm very grateful for my freedom.  And I love my country - "the land of the free and the home of the brave." 

Overall, the 4th was a pretty great day. Many, many good memories, and only one bad one to tarnish the holiday (and sadly, that bad one practically makes my whole post). At any rate, it was a memorable 4th of July. 

I'm a big kid now.

Hey, I'm 16... and I can drive! All by myself and without help!
As I was writing that, the Huggies Pull-Ups Training Pants slogan came to my mind. You know the one: "I'm a big kid now!"

Anyhow, I got my license last Friday but I hadn't driven all by myself until today. Yes, that is right, until this very day.
It will be engraved in my memory "for as long as the sun and moon shall endure."

I got home from babysitting and, feeling a little hungry and tired, decided to make myself a smoothy (it was sorta really nasty -- soy protein powder blended with any variety of fruit is, well, have you seen the movie Flubber?), but my mom said that I could drive Sophia over to her fairy dance camp. Since the camp was starting in 15 minutes and it apparently takes 18 minutes to get there, I put my congealing, jell-o-like "smoothy" into a large (I wish our cups were smaller) vase-like glass and rushed out the door.

Because the studio is not exactly familiar to me, I felt a twinge of apprehension when I started the car. Could I do it? What if I got lost?

Plucking the doubts out of my mind, I began to focus on the positive... I know my way around Lansing and I have a pretty good internal compass.

Even if we were five minutes late, I still did it. I was (and am) pretty pleased with myself. No map AND driving without a co-pilate? Shoot!

Actually, the real test was driving back home. You see, I had never driven home from that studio and everything looked different backwards. Plus, I was completely alone.
So began my first ever solo drive.

Surprisingly, I found it easier to drive (I was more comfortable) when alone.
I was also surprised at how everything came so naturally. I've definitely come a long way. My prayers count for most of this, I'm sure.

Dropping Sophia off at the house a few hours later, Matt hopped in the car and we zoomed on over to get Culvers for dinner.
Managing to park perfectly in our driveway after this excursion, I looked over and asked if he thought I was a good driver. He said I was.

Well, I finally broke the news to Josiah today. When I told him I had my license, he gasped and stared at me like I was queen of the world. Then he looked at me with his serious, intelligent green eyes and asked if I could drive him to Star Bucks to get a "lemon loaf". Of course I obliged this whim.

After consulting with my parents, they gave their consent for me to drive my younger siblings to see Toy Story 3. Sophia and Josiah had been talking about it since the very first trailer was released.
All the way to the movie theater I got to listen to this:

Josiah (still in awe of that fact that I could drive without mom or dad): "I can't wait 'til I'm big 'nuf to drive!"

Sophia (balancing out his optimism): "Siah, that will be in, like, a hundred years."

Josiah (shaking his head): "Nuh uh. I'm going to be big as Christine when I can drive."

Sophia (rolling her eyes): "You're only three right now."

Josiah (looking slightly offended): "When I get older, I'm going to get a green car. And be a daddy!"

Sophia (after a long pause and quizzical brow): "I'm going to have a big, red car. And have horses."

Then Matt looked over at me. It was all I could do to not bust out laughing. I love them all so much.
And they loved the movie, as anticipated (despite me making them close their eyes intermittently during the scary scene).

Although, it is a good thing that I already saw it; I was the designated potty-partner and had to miss a good chunk of the movie.
When our movie was finished, Matt wanted to know what time dad was coming to get us. I just looked at him. The sudden, happy realization came upon his face as he remembered that I was driving home.

Now, I wonder when my license will come in the mail. Tomorrow would be nice -- I've been checking the mail every day.
Patience seems to be an unattainable virtue for me. Sad, right?

My Poor, Spider-Hating Friend

Spiders. 

I have an intense fear of the creatures. To put it bluntly, I abhor them. My friend Catrice also shares these exact feelings — a true kindred-spirit, let me tell you. 

Anyway, she is on a missions trip right now. One of her only apprehensions concerning this trip was regarding the giant spiders. 

Today I got this brief email (they don't have a whole bunch of time on the internet):

"Hi! Oh my word I'm writing this email and there are 6 spiders above me - I'm going to die!!!!! So I'll write later when I'm less vulnerable. Ahhhhhhh!!!! 

I literally started to cry this morning cause there was a spider in the shower above me!!!! I'm going to die.
--Catrice xoxo ☺"

My poor, sweet, spider-hating, bosom friend, you know I'll be praying for you!

If you think to, please pray that God will give boldness and strength to her (and her family) this summer. I can only imagine what it must be like over there. And this officially qualifies as an entirely unpleasant situation... I don't even know why I tried to imagine it just then. However unpleasant the situation is, I know that God will use it - He is always faithful. 

Toy Story 3 (part 2)

On Friday night, I drove Jon, Matt, and I over to see the much anticipated Toy Story 3.

Because I just got my license, I was eager to get on the road. Graciously, Jon threw me the keys and told me that I could drive Sr. Gerald (his precious golden Cadillac). At first I refused and said he could drive. But Jon, not being fooled in the least, told me he knew that I wanted to, and insisted that I drive. Well, of course I gladly accepted.

Climbing into the driver's seat, I turned the key and tried to adjust the seat. You must understand, Jon has very long legs... and I definitely do not.
I could hardly reach the peddles with my short, little legs -- he was laughing at me. It didn't help that the seat did not move very far forward.
Determined to drive, I sprawled myself out on the seat (kids, don't try this at home), and drove us all [safely] to NCG. It was a great drive.

When we arrived, the place was mobbed — the line for Toy Story 3 was at least a mile long. At that moment, Matt and Jon both thanked me for pre-ordering our tickets.

Putting on our snazzy 3D glasses, we sat down in the theatre and prepared ourselves for a great movie. Jon, Matt, and I all grew-up with Toy Story, and even though they're apparently "children's movies," we opted to go after the two youngsters went to sleep.  Shhh! Don't tell them -- they're still completely oblivious.

First off, I must say, Pixar really amped the volume up in this movie. Holy Smokes! I laughed so hard, tears came to my eyes multiple times. The plot took many, many twists, and our beloved toys took many unexpected adventures.

At one point during the movie, I leaned over and asked Jon if this was really a little kids movie — there was definitely a little darkness, not gonna lie.
It was probably better that my little, three year-old brother and eight year-old sister didn't see it (just to be on the safe side). Big Baby staring at the moonlight, and the burning pit of fire definitely added suspense.

Overall, it was great. And anything scary was always counteracted with something funny and/or heart-warming.
I laughed especially hard when Buzz was reset in spanish mode, trying to win Jessie's heart. Barbie and Ken also turned out to be a really funny couple... Ken and his "Dream House."
Through it all though, Woody remains my favorite — he is such an endearing little toy. With his loyalty, wit, charm, and cowboyish-ness, what's not to love?

When the movie ended, I honestly expected to be left with a feeling of sadness. You know, because Andy was going away to college. But I actually wasn't -- the ending left me feeling nostalgic and hopeful. This was good because I really don't like to leave a movie feeling sad.

With references to the last two movies, hilarious lines, old characters going on new adventures, and just the general comedy and tragedy of their situation, Pixar, again, did an excellent job of capturing the Toy Story. 
As far as the lineup of my favorites, I guess I liked the 3rd, 2nd, and then the 1st (for now). But that really was a close shave... and is obviously always liable to change in the future.

Goodbye Student Driver. Hello Sweet Freedom.

So, yesterday was the big day. And this is the very honest-to-goodness account of how it all went down.

Dad scheduled my drivers test for 10 o'clock on Friday morning. 

Because I (and my parents) thought it would be prudent to practice my parking before the test, we planned to arrived approximately an hour early.

And because I needed a good deal of mental rest and preparation for this test, I decided to hit the hay as soon as possible Thursday night. 

Although I was snuggled cozily between my covers, I hardly slept a wink (mostly out of the sheer trepidation).  To my dismay, I laid languidly, wide awake and trembling with fear. 

Even the clock was finding the time to taunt me with it's endless "ticks" and "tocks".

"What if I make stupid mistakes?!"And, "What if I just freeze-up and can't DRIVE? Worse still, "What if I... fail?!" 

Questions like these were swarming my brain.

Finally falling asleep a little past midnight, I awoke only six hours later. It was one of those dreamless, shallow, and uneasy nights. 

At 6am I was wide awake, and wishing I wasn't - I thought about going back to sleep, but didn't want to risk getting up late. Once I finished getting ready for the day, I had the most intense urge to crawl into my warm, inviting bed and bury myself in the darkness of sleep. But I didn't. 

Instead, I got breakfast... and coffee. Drinking some of that wonderful coffee, I perked-up a little and decided to let God handle the situation -- He is God, after all. Why should I worry?

My heart rate considerably (but not all the way) calmed, I drove my dad and I on over to a church parking lot (where I was to take the parking portion of my test). However, I couldn't practice just then because another girl was taking her parking test. 

It gave me no particular comfort to watch as she completely plowed down a few cones while parallel parking. 

Not exactly wanting to watch anymore, we drove to a nearby gas station and topped off the tank (I got to pump the gas). 

After practicing my skills in the aforementioned parking lot, I felt more uneasy than ever. I was so scared; my eyes were the size of hubcaps and my knees were knocking like... well, who knows what! *Gulp*

When Mr. Roder came over to the car and gave the instructions, I honestly thought I was going to be sick... he told me that I looked "nervous." Looking at me in his Mr. Roder-ish way, he chuckled. It sort of made me feel a little bit better. Sort of.

Honestly, I've never been so nervous in my entire life.  

I took my parking test. Not only did I take it, but I passed. And not only did I pass, but I didn't make any errors - I didn't even hit or flatten a single cone!

Somehow, I even managed to parallel park perfectly in a single, fluid movement.

An important thing to note is that I was praying the entire time. Acknowledging that God is bigger than the test, I gave it up to Him. Basically, I was thinking, "If it is God's will, He'll help me to pass the test."

Also, the driving portion went well. He mostly talked to my dad (a ploy to make me feel more comfortable with him and his clipboard — it worked). 

He wrote out my level 2 license certificate and I drove on over to the Secretary of State directly after the test. 

Parallel parking is tough. 

Well, tougher still is parallel parking behind a Corvette... with the man who owns it sitting right there, watching me. 

I wanted to circle around again, but my dad convinced me of the necessity to park; it was that, or no parking at all. Actually, it was the only parking spot vacant in the area. 

Both the Corvette and my dad's car came out unscathed. 

After all the paperwork was finished, I flashed a slightly goofy, metal-mouth smile and had my picture taken for my license.  I also might have infected the older man (who was helping me) with my starry-eyed excitement. The whole process was absolutely riveting.

When I got home, I was just itching to use my newfound freedom. Dragging Matt out to the car, I took my first ever "solo" drive around the neighborhood. It was great.

When Jon came home from YHR later in the afternoon, I drove him, Matt, and I over to see Toy Story 3. But I'll spare you that excitement for another post. 

*Phew* I'm exhausted and extremely relieved.

Sweet Summertime

While little girls are made of sugar, spice, and all that's nice, little boys are made of frogs, snails, and puppy-dog tails. And well, I forgot where I was going with that exactly...

Anyway, my little siblings and I have been having a grand time - I gotta say, summertime is a welcomed change. 

P.S. This post is especially for you (Nana and Papa). Xoxo

Wearing our garbage bag "smocks" before finger-painting.

He really didn't need that smock. Just saying. 

Toasting marshmallows via the oven.

Sunning ourselves in the yard... 

...while reading Anne of Avonlea. 

I love her.

Just for kicks

And Giggles. Yes, lots of giggles.

Oh boy... when she grows-up, I'm gonna get it!

Toy Story 3

I am a big fan of Toy Story. Always have been, always will.

The only Pixar movies I didn't completely enjoy were Wall-E and A Bugs Life. And I'm sure I would have liked Wall-E better if there was actual talking throughout the movie. Other than the silence, it was cute. Let it be known, the worst Pixar movies, in my mind, compare with the mediocre ones of Disney. So, not bad at all.
Uhh, and that was not meant to be a slam against Disney. Sleeping Beauty (mostly because of Prince Philip) is an especially enchanting love story. Now there is a warrior poet!

Anyway, I have been super excited about Toy Story 3 ever since I heard about it. In fact, I have been counting down... and there are only 5 more days left!

There are striking similarities between the characters' and my life.
My older brother is similar to Andy and I am much like Molly (Andy's kid sister). In the next installment of the Toy Story (trilogy!!!), Andy goes away to college. Guess what? Last year my brother went away to college.
Well, that is where the similarities end. But those were good, right?

In case you'd like to know, Woody was my first crush.  One of my friends actually remembered this and gave me a Woody bookmark for my birthday (this year). I love it.

Don't ask me about this topic, please -- it's embarrassing on my end and makes for a really good awkward moment. However, I feel that I must display transparent honesty on this blog. Yes, I am sincere.

Although Buzz is nicer than Woody, he's no cowboy. And nothing (not even a space-ranger) can top a cowboy in my mind. Sorry Buzz.

It's not like you haven't had a crush on a fictional character and/or a cartoon, right? 

And now, you officially have proof of how deranged I am. Great. 

Recently I watched both Toy Story movies. Whoa nelly! Woody has a sassy side.
I didn't realize it until now -- I think the humor slid over my head when I was younger. Needless to say, I laughed harder than I had laughed in a while. I never realized how stinkin funny an animated movie could be. Honestly! I lose it every time. Hilarious.

Also, I can't decide which movie I like better, the first or the second. I'm still solidifying my ranking results, but I'd like to have it figured-out before I see the third one.
The first one is more funny... but the second one is more entertaining. Any thoughts? I'd love to hear them!

Here is the trailer for Toy Story 3... 
Just in case you've missed-out on all the publicity it's been getting. 
At any rate, I'm looking forward to JUNE 18th!!!

Man! Buzz has serious moves.  Who knew?

Summer Summer Summertime.

The fact that I am unable to comprehend even the basic computer processing lingo and/or jargon, kindles deep embitterment. Basically, if I desire to blog (which I do), I am forced into using this particular site. And I'm nonplused.

In fact, I have done a little research on other sites. That [obviously] didn't have a very happy ending. I guess I should be a little more computer literate. However, just because I "should" doesn't really mean that I ever could be any more computer savvy. And that is the entire truth.

The long and short of it boils down to this:
Blogger has rampant problems. I know that someone is probably fixing those "problems," but I would honestly rather not experience so much pain [and downright hardship] while chronicling my life.

Quitting my blog is something I have given serious thought to recently. Albeit brief thoughts... and they were only brief because I, evidently, can't bear the thought of disbanding my little home on the internet. The nostalgia just piles up and I wouldn't want to waste all of that! After all, I did start this blog when I was in sixth grade. That just seems too long to give-up. Doggone it!

As evidenced previously, I could talk about this burning topic for a lengthy amount of time. However,  I do understand that this is probably a very boring, very one-sided conversation. Don't worry, I'll stop now.
I don't really expect you to have read all this; I would've given-up clear after the first sentence (I'm still undecided about how I feel about that).

And so, I completely cannot figure why you continue to read. It honestly baffles me... not only am I a complete bore, but I'm apparently a lazy lump when it comes to posting, and now, bitter against my own blog. Thanks for faithfully following it anyway.

These next few days will be lovely and I'll begin to delve into the glorious, radiant prospect of summertime... in my next post.

My Set-Apart Weekend

God will work in the lives of those who are willing. And sometimes, I forget this. 


I was beyond blessed this past weekend. I went up to Camp Barakel, heard the Ludys speak, and enjoyed time with God, nature, and some good friends. 


I learned way too much to even describe in this post. Way too much. Wow.
(If you want to learn more about the Ludys and their ministry, click here.)


God spoke... and I had ears to hear Him only. It was fabulous.


Also, I got to meet Leslie and Eric Ludy. 
They are such an amazing example of Christ's love poured out for others. When I met them, I looked in their eyes and saw an outpouring of radiant and genuine love; it was so powerful.  
I promised myself I'd be "chill" with the whole thing. I wasn't excited about meeting them, I was mostly just excited about seeing the people God had used so effectively to encourage and inspire my faith. 


Well... 
I went up to Leslie and told her how much I appreciated her books; they had encouraged and inspired me more than she could possibly know. Then, I gave her a hug.
We embraced and my eyes were glistening with admiration and love for these precious people, who God dropped directly in the middle of my life. 
I then shook Eric Ludy's hand and introduced myself. 


After meeting them, I walked to my seat in the chapel. Two tears silently rolled down my cheeks. I couldn't control this from happening (trust me, I really tried). 
I never cry; especially not in public. Good grief! 


Feeling stupid and embarrassed, I desperately tried to get my emotions under control before someone looked in my direction.  


Why in the world was this happening? I was a little upset at myself. 


As I was starting to regain composure again, my friends gathered around. 
And I groan.  


I was desperately wishing not to see anyone until my stability and control had returned. However, my sweet friends came -- I can only imagine what they must have been thinking of me. 


To make it clear, I have good friends. And I have an even better, gracious God. He knew I needed that dose of humility.  


It was a powerful time. Like I said, I learned a lot. 


Also, I learned a valuable life lesson. 


If you drink a lot of liquid before a long (emphasis on the long) chapel session, you must either "rush the stage" or wet your pants. It's a hard choice for those who don't like to draw a whole lot of attention to themselves. 
*Ahem* I chose the former option. I had to. Let me just add, this has happened way too often in the past few months.


Yes, I rushed the stage (as my friend's mom put it) while (WHILE) Eric Ludy was preaching a powerful and convicting message. 
If you've been to Camp Barakel, you'll know that the only bathroom in the chapel is up the stage and to the left. Oh man. Oh man. Oh man. Oh man. A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.  


P.S. Leslie and Eric watch Anne of Green Gables together. I already have so much respect, admiration, and love for the Ludys; the Anne of Green Gables thing just adds even more. Oh, yes.

Eric Ludy, Leslie Ludy, and I.

Gracie and I out on the lake... having a little too much fun.

Stephanie and I on The Hayride [of Misery].

Stephanie, Alisha, Gracie, and I. (Our reunited SAF group!)