"I really like Maggie, but then Sarena sat on me and now they're both mad and I need you to tell me what to do" or Why There Have Been 6 Blank Days

An impromptu camp trip claimed this past week's blogging opportunities so I could teach junior high girls that God even cares that you don't like Ross the way he likes you. There was little sleep, a high (so very high) overdosage on Daniel Powter, James Blunt, and the High School Musical Soundtrack, and I am now sporting a coat of silver chrome nail polish which makes me want to pursue some long lost aspirations to walk the moon some day. I came across two discoveries. 1. My independence quota is generally measured and fulfilled in direct relation to the amount of time spent with junior high kids. 2. There is no reason that one woman should own 98 of those giant 64 oz. plastic mugs. "Because I'm a youth minister and a motivational speaker" is not reason enough.

Link Me Crazy, Juarez 2k6

Juarez was its usual self, poverty stricken and populated with happy people and kids you want to pack in your suitcase and stuff in the overhead compartment.
Two days were spent building a casa, we laid foundation with cement that did not come from a barrel-truck but from piles on the ground that we made from scratch. The other two were spent hosting a kids club for the surrounding area. I was a part of the arts and crafts group, my forte when the other options are songs and outdoor games for Club de Ninos (Cloob day Neen-yos). I came home with Bill my popsicle stick friend and the craft for the 5-7 year olds.
Bill likes not having a mouth, being in his Birthday Suit, and looking like a Vegas show girl.
There was less battery acid this time around, but more bloody noses (Nine of these in three days).

I'd like to thank the following sponsors that made this past week possible:
Kandoo Wipes
The Old Folk Patrons at St. Pats
Kleenex Corp.
Bag Cereal
Blood
Artificial Sleep
Mike the Christian bus driver that has seen the grace of God by speeding the whole night.
A man who is from the South but does not like to be called Southern and uses too many adjectives and adverbs to gather content from his words beyond the above.
The "if it's brown, flush it down" policy

I Am Convinced That The Only Reason Wal-Mart Is Successful Is Because They're Open 24 Hours.

The Panicky Packing Moments have begun.
I leave for Mexico early Saturday morning to help the good people of Juar Ez but not before driving (Yes, driving. For thirty hours. 3-0.) down with 50 of my closest* friends on a bus which initially looks cool because of the sweet design on the seats and TV's, but ends up being a sweaty mess of disgusting, old air. Tonight I will get little sleep but more than tomorrow night as I rake through my head of everything I need to bring, buy, pack, and not forget.
"What if it rains? Do I need a poncho? No they don't get rain. Wait is it hurricane season? Are we by the ocean down there? Which is the closest ocean? Crap, what ocean is it? Atlantic? No Pacific. I'm sure its Pacific. So I should bring extra shirts then in case mine get dirty and smelly from the hurricane. And probably extra deodorant for all the sweat. I wonder if I have any extra. [Checks] Oh God. I need to go to Target..."

*In spatial proximity. Because of the sweat bus.

Tidal Wave Trends

The sunglasses are officially too big when the woman sitting behind you at the commencement ceremony asks you to take them off your head so that she can watch her child walk across the stage.

The Apple Doesn't Fall Too Far From The Tree

Me: "I hate raspberry vinaigrette dressing because first of all, it is too sweet. And second of all, because grandma gave it to me once and it had been sitting in her fridge for almost a year."
Momma: "That's how I feel about tequila sunrises."

Have You Ever Met Someone Who Thought Their Family Was Completely Normal? Me Neither.

Tis the season for graduation parties once again. They all are just a whirlwind over my head, seeing the same people at most of them. I decided to spice up a particular Muffin cousin's fiesta by bringing Colleen. We walked in to Gram and Great-Gram chatting away, cocktails in hand when I introduced her. Shortly followed was an explanation on how Gramma's head sweats when she works in the yard and then the procedure for perms (or "permanents" as she says). G-Gram Marion proceeded to ask us our opinions on the immigration conflict, as we are going to Mexico shortly. When I told her that I didn't think building a retaining wall was the answer, she insisted that I made that up. We carried on outside to find the magician who magically directed us to Ben and Jerry, some old and familiar friends, and their cart of delicious ice cream. Uncle Bill, who was standing a little too close for comfort to the fire insisted that Colleen, though this was the first time he'd met her and probably hadn't heard this story, was always welcome and it was the more the merrier at his casa.

The Lotiony Texture Is Sometimes Nice But Sometimes Feels Used

It is time to buy toilet paper when everyone in the household is wiping with lotion tissues.

Honest Mistake Of A Working Mother Or Why My Middle School Years Were Awkward And Shy

When you look up nostalgia in the dictionary, there is pictures of people visiting their kindergarten classroom. When I went back to good ol' Countryside Elementary today to find the halls smaller, drinking fountains shorter, and faces of a bubble monster on every soap dispenser, I ventured in to a nearly foreign room that was, once upon a time, Ms. Eranie's AM Kindergarten classroom. The coat room that once looked as big as the classroom itself, I realize only measures about a grown-person's arm span and I hit my shin on the cubby hole I once reached up to get at. The center of the room brought back some happy memories of story time and learning about three letter words, but also a particular episode of story time. Mother Dearest had volunteered to come read a book to the class, and came in with my favorite book, "Good Night Opus". Having your mom come into read to the class was the biggest deal since Lucky Tray Day except with more vulnerability. The class who was known for being particularly critical, approved the book. But when she came back a few weeks later, you can imagine my horror when she pulled "Good Night Opus" out of her briefcase. She started. I blushed. They laughed. Oh, how they laughed.

Happiness Is

Watching the cutest baby ever eat his first muffin.

And The Awar- Ahem..Calzone Goes To...Larry B!

You'd probably be surprised at how excited people get about picking up their pizzas on a Saturday night. Clearly they've had a long day of getting up late, thinking about mowing the lawn, laying out in the hot instead, and at about 6:30 decide to peel themselves off the lawn chair, hop in the Mercedes, and pick up the two large pizzas. But I guess that's not really the amazing part about this repetitive scenario. It's really when Joe Somebody comes in to pick them up, they come up to the call ahead counter and really, truly, think that they have the best and only pizza in the world. Its very exciting for them. They nearly skip up to register and exclaim "2 Large Hand Tossed for Larry B!" often attempting to get in on the pizza-shop lingo. When I meekly tell them that it will be $24.13, they pull out the plastic and lean to the left to try and see if its on the rack. Its curious because if its up there waiting, they question if its warm, and if not they get flustered and want to know why. After the Visa Platinum is proudly slid across the counter, swiped and returned, they sign the store copy like a star-struck fan has just asked them for their autograph. At last, pizza in hand, Larry struts out the door knowingly nodding at the rest of the Joe Somebody's who are restlessly waiting in line.

Re-Facing The Morning After Pill

"Last night I had the scariest dream EVER. Seriously. Ever. I dreamt that you and I went to this restaurant and I ordered buffalo wings and I ate so many of them that I got pregnant."