Friday, May 28, 2010

Softball Sweeties




Tonight, I watched my awesome niece in a tournament game in Chattanooga. The 5-6 year olds with the Honeybees played with dirt in the outfield, twirled around, figured out how to wear knee pads, and cheered "Cheater, Chatter, Aggravate the batter!"

Pretty cute.

I'm pretty proud of my sister's little family. Skylar squatted at ready short stop, Kelly volunteered as "Dugout Mom", and Brad caught little jock-gals's missed hits during the warm-up.

Whatta family! Whatta fun day!


Tomorrow, the luau!

Skirts. of grass. Gregory Alan Isakov.

P.S. Cheers to dreams that do not include climbing mountains in the freezing rain, through rainbows, with strange trolls as companions. Yep. No more of those. Please. :P

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Kitung Mak Mak

Literally "I miss lots lots."

Sometimes, I miss Thailand mak mak. Most of the world lives in Community. They live so much in community, that it's common to see three or four people cruising down the road on a single moped. They live so much in community that there's no such thing as "cheating" in a classroom. They live so much in community that parties begin before dawn with all the local grannies and GIT (grannies in training) convening with seasonal fruits and utensils under the hostess's house. A buffet isn't BYOHD (that's hot dish, not high def), it's COAMSTS (come over, and make something to share).

That's right.

I made my haupia in my Free-At-Last-Free-At-Last kitchen, but now that it's chilling in the fridge, I'm wondering if the task, nay life itself, might be just a splash sweeter surrounded by the gaggle of a true neighborhood.

Maybe the Independence of our culture is an illusion anyway.

Gooooodnight.

Coconuts. Pineapples. Marinade.

Aubrey

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Yeah, Yeah...Darn Capillaries

You can't hide the truth from your body. It tells, oh does it tell. I try to wear the same jeans I wore last summer. Nope. The booty tells. I try to wear my hajr naturally. Nope. The grey tells.

I've never thought my capillaries would play a role in this tattling party. Actually, I had never really thought of my capillaries at all until two days ago. Two days ago, I decided to take my dragging hind end out in the apartment neighborhood for a run.

I walked around an Indian lady and her four-year old (who was learning how to scooter--very cute--and pretty funny), I circled a semi-truck with Michigan plates taking up seven spots. Then, itch. Itch. I had to stop and throw off my shoes dramatically. What BUG could this be? Disgusting. A man with a cigarette and a leash to a collie approached. I got up and ran a few more blocks. Itch. Itch. ITCH. I slowed. What the heck?? Isn't it a little late in the year for dry skin?? I advanced my iPod to Beyonce. Itch. Itch. Ridiculous!!

It was so bad, I ran in the house, tore off my clothes, slathered myself in lotion, and scratched the heck out of those plaguing itches. Then, research. What in the world could be causing this terrible itching?

Between the Google and the Forums, I have my answer. My capillaries. If arteries are the rivers of our bodies, arterioles are the streams, and capillaries are the creeks. Well, apparently when an individual is not maximizing his or her body (i.e. I have become a worn-out couch potato), blood flow isn't really as necessary to the muscles--the muscles aren't even working. But when a practiced couch potato finally gets the blood flowing back to the muscles, the capillaries awaken in a rush... in a rush of ITCH.

The good news is-- the more often I run, the more often my creeks will run, the better off my circulatory system is, the less likely it is that I'll ITCH.

The bad news is--I can't hide! My body has spoken ... and honestly. Couch potato, begone!

Life is about more than a job. It's time to start keeping those capillaries in business.

fo real.

Itching. Running. Workin the glutes and the capills. :)

Aubrey

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Purpose

If we are all tools for His Kingdom, then I'm a blender... or a hammer, or a gallon of paint.

A blender trying to dig is miserable.


Embracing the mix. Letting go of shovel hopes. Blend it.