Five Minute Friday: Fight

Don't try this at home.I’d say we should talk about Fight Club, but you know how that goes…

My goodness, what a topic. Is there anything good to say about getting in a fight? To me, a fight is not: a disagreement, an argument, or a difference of opinion.

To me, a fight is pure nasty, passion-driven, way-beyond-shouting craziness.

I would have to say, most times, it involves physical violence. That’s why I’m reluctant to say that married couples fight (although I certainly know some that resort to violence—and it’s not just the husbands…true).

I don’t know if I’ve ever been in a real fight in my life. Thank God.


Five Minute FridayI’m joining the flash mob of writers over at LisaJo Baker’s place, which you can find here, or by clicking on the picture to the right. The basic idea is that you spend five minutes of writing, generally unedited (I correct typos, WAY too OCD not to do that), on a prompt that she provides just after ten p.m. via a tweet, then spread the word, and link up. Interested? Join up.

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T is for Thinking

The Secret Garden

The Secret Garden (Photo credit: @Doug88888)

Things I’m thinking of:

  • Whether I’m more of a help or a hindrance to my daughter in her last two weeks of school
  • Whether getting back on medication will enable me to continue my education
  • What I’m going to do in the next several months
  • What I’d like to plant for flowers and other gardening
  • How long it’s going to take me to weed through my bookshelves and boxes of books and how much I can get rid of
  • What the possibilities are for summertime activities, given budgetary constraints



A to Z April Challenge 2013I’m participating in the Blogging from A-to-Z April Challenge! Read about it here.

Pull Your Pants Up!

Out of the Blue ThursdaysI really wasn’t trying to look at his butt. It was hard not to, though, since his pants were practically down to his knees.

This is part of living in a large metro area. There’s a lot of diversity, and, for the most part, I really enjoy it. Among other things, some of what’s covered by the diversity umbrella is apparel and personal style choices. Afros to Pentecostal Poufs, ballet flats to Converse, split tongues and pierced ears, it’s all there. Again, for the most part, I enjoy it. God is creative, and part of being created in God’s image is that we all have some sense of that creativity.

Thankfully, it’s not a super popular trend for young men to wear their pants quite so low, but whether this guy didn’t get the memo, or just decided not to cinch up the string on his baggy sweatpants, he definitely could’ve pulled his pants up a long way. We’re not talking low around the hips, we’re talking half way down his thighs.

Believe me, all this visual took was one half a second from ten feet behind him in the self-checkout lane at a store I don’t usually shop at.

I usually don’t consider myself a flippant pray-er, but it was really hard not to just send up a plaintive mental whining. “Jesus, really, would it be too much to ask for You to please get that guy to pull his pants up.”

And at that very second, the guy grabbed for his wallet, and pulled his pants up! All the way up, and even cinched the drawstring. I was surprised the sound of my jaw hitting the ground didn’t startle him.

I almost did a happy dance, right there in line. Seriously, I laughed. But, you know, under my breath, so he wouldn’t hear me. I mean, there’s no point in gloating.

God is good. All the time. All the time. God is good.


Out of the Blue Thursdays is a group of women who write about surprises in their lives that God has shown them. You can read about it, and join if you’d like, here.

What’s Yours?

Calvin and Hobbs ResolutionsEverybody makes ‘em. Nobody keeps ‘em. Yeah. I’m talking about New Year’s resolutions.

You have to admit, they show good intention. People always mention that they want to lose weight, start exercising, manage their budget better, invest wisely, save more money, become a better parent, the lists go on. And on.

Why, honestly, do we bother? I have never yet met a person who made a New Year’s resolution that they managed to keep. Ever. Past February. (If you have, please comment, because I want to arrange a meeting with you and other world leaders.) Given that, I am starting an entirely new style of resolution, which is based on the principal of reverse psychology. It’s a well-known fact that, since the Garden of Eden, people can’t seem to avoid doing either the very thing someone tells them not to do, or just the opposite of what they are supposed to do.

So, my New Year’s Resolutions are as follows:

  • Utterly trash my home and become an unrepentant hoarder;
  • Become a recluse who shuns human contact, especially with my aging parents and any close friends;
  • Gain as much weight as is humanly possible by never cooking or eating anything healthy, let alone by attempting anything that even resembles exercise;
  • Never keep track of appointments or dates and never, ever return phone calls the same day;
  • Avoid anything that smacks of spirituality or any kind of organized religion;
  • Shamelessly prowl Facebook and Twitter All Day Long;
  • Relentlessly pursue anything that might depress me, most notably by staying in bed all day;
  • Spend my money on whimsical items that have no enduring value whatsoever; and
  • Write as little as possible.

I’ll NEVER tell you how that’s going.


It’s a sudden-onset disease. It strikes randomly, completely without warning, paralyzing the lower extremities. And I’ve got it. Catalapia.


Sheesh… Here I was, suffering from an unexpected bout of insomnia, when I got this great idea. I believe that things happen for a reason. I’m wide awake. Why not write a blog article!?! Naturally, that’s when I discovered that I was also suffering from an unexpected bout of Catalapia. Perhaps I should say an unexpected “attack,” since it was, after all, my lap that was attacked by my cat that has now rendered me completely paralyzed and thus unable to go down to the computer and type this up like a normal person.

Did I mention the easy cure?


Too Much Is Never Enough

Sort of like my brain, but more organized!Some people probably think I’m a hoarder. And they might be right. But my hoarding tendencies go far beyond the usual I-Have-No-Room-In-My-Basement/Attic/Back Room/Guest Room/Fill-In-The Blank Room. I’m a virtual hoarder.

I hoard ideas.

My brain can barely function some days because I’ve got so many ideas jockeying for space it’s like the opening bell at the NYSE. This is exactly why I don’t write as much as I’d like: I can’t decide on a topic. I mean, I still haven’t decided what I want to be when I grow up. The ADHD I’ve got going on is enough to drive me around the bend. There’s a constant clamor of whatever book I’m currently reading  (and since I’m usually reading at least three books at the same time, you can see how useful that is) joined to the latest on whatever blog I’m reading (again, a number of them), accompanied by the unrelenting chatter of Facebook, and subtly influenced by the latest sermon I’ve heard.

For example. My daughter, Sophia, is taking theology at college (gotta love that). Her final exegetical paper was on the annunciation story of Samson in the Book of Judges. She bounced a lot of ideas off me, and I helped her research and type her paper. However, one of my favorite stories in Judges (indeed, in the whole Bible) is the story of Jepthah’s daughter. So, while I was finding articles in scholarly journals for her paper, I happened to find a number of them on my interest, which I gleefully saved to my computer for later perusal. And that’s the problem.

I have files on my computer for all sorts of things. It’s like a Victorian curiosity cabinet of all the strange, macabre, beautiful, interesting, novel, thought-provoking ideas. I’ve been going through my computer lately, trying to organize the pictures, and purge out the things I don’t need. What a bad idea! Now ideas that were long-ago novelties have come back, front and center, threatening to upstage my current favorites like an aging star of the silent screen who can’t get over these new talking pictures! (Did you guess? I like silent films, too.)

So, one solution is just to trash everything, purging out the files of everything I haven’t used in a year, like we’re always told to do with our closets. But that doesn’t work for me, because like most of my clothes, I can’t bear to get rid of them. (The clothes still fit, after all!) Those ideas just might come in handy someday.

Never a Master

The final computer-generated Yoda as seen in t...

Image via Wikipedia

A learner I will be. Always. (Sounds a little like Yoda, no?)

I’m telling you, no matter what people say about how women are mysterious and hard to figure out, and full of PMS craziness, demanding, emotional minefields, and other nonsense, I think men are just as bad. Maybe worse.

I’ll be the first to admit it: stereotypes make life a lot easier. Men drive me nuts. And not just the kind that are like some strange species of shaved bears with furniture, burping and fist-pumping their way through another football game while they check out Kim Kardashian look-alikes in Hustler magazine. No, I’m also talking about the sensitive, women-respecting kind that listen when you talk and aren’t afraid to cry. The kind who read books, and not just comic books. (Excuse me: Graphic Novels.) Yes, the kind who open the doors for you and help you with your coat while murmuring sweet nothings comprised of equal parts John Keats and Steven Hawking. They are the best in bed (because they let you come first…and last), and out of it. Yes, as the song goes, let’s hear it for the boy!

But they still drive me crazy. No, I’m not getting all “emotional” here. Well, maybe I am. So what!

Okay, this is the year 2011 (for a few days yet), and I’m a modern woman who’s not afraid to take the initiative and call a man. But if you think I’m initiating all the calling, all the texting, and all the emailing, think again. You want me? Prove it. You, Mister Saying-You’re-Interested-In-Me! Yes, you. Can I get a call? Can I get an email? Can I get some text messages? Can I get some attention?

So, I did what I thought would be the right thing. I sent a completely honest message, via both text and email. Not nasty. Just saying that if he had time for this, that, and the other thing, surely he had time to call, etc., etc., Was I pissed? Yes. Was I a bitch? No.

He emailed and called, in approximately 2 minutes and 17 seconds. (Nope, I was not counting. I just made that up. I did…) WIN!

But it really wasn’t a win. No… it was more like a fail… Not quite an epic fail, but a fail. After hearing him and his lovely soothing voice, I felt like a loser. Like a demanding, emotional minefield. How could I ever have thought he wasn’t interested? He. Is. So. Interested. (Fist pump not required.)

I just never learn. But, he did call…so, maybe he learned, too… I don’t know, but I hope I’m learning.