Can't Write With Purple Ink Without Thinking About It

I was just telling someone this story today, and because I'm a glutton for punishment (and at a lack of anything else to write about)....here goes.

I'm still haunted by this day. I can remember what I was wearing. I can remember what he was wearing. I can remember the color of marker that was used. I can remember the face of my best friend with her mouth hanging open, completely mortified on my behalf.

It was a Spring day in 6th grade. I was in school in Thailand, at the International school there, where all the missionary kids attended. The school was an eclectic mix of nationalities and cultures, but for the most part....it was like any other school. Full of drama....at least the middle school and high school were.

I had a tremendous crush on the cutest boy in 6th grade. I can still hear his deep Georgian accent. He was dreamy. And he was the first kid in our class to have an Apple computer (remember those?!) at his house. Big stuff. Not only was he cute-as-a-bug, but he was also genuinely nice. I don't remember him ever being mean to anyone. He held doors open for all the girls and said, "Yes, Sir," to our crazy, whacked-out Buddhist teacher (that's a whole other story!). This kid was a great catch.

And I finally worked up my nerve to tell him that I thought so. My best friend and I carefully drafted note after note which detailed my love for him. We worked for days on the perfect words and the perfectly shaped hearts that would dot all the i's. And finally we had it. It was a beautiful note.....even written in purple ink.

My best friend sneaked into our room during lunch recess that Spring day. She slipped the note into his desk and crept back out to the playground where I was waiting. I remember he was playing tether ball with his friends, and my heart was beating out of my chest knowing what he would find when we all headed back inside.

The bell rang and we made our way up the steps. My best friend and I giggled all the way up to our room. But then it was over. Because when we walked in the room, all we heard was the horrid sound of snickering and laughing. He was standing in the middle of the room, red-faced and shaking his head. And then I saw it.

There. On the board. Written in bright red marker were my words. All my words. Even my hearts over my i's.

And then I saw him. The meanest, most cruel boy in our grade, if not our whole school. He had his arms crossed, face stuck up in the air, laughing....and holding a red marker and my carefully folded piece of notebook paper with the purple ink. I would have known it was him even without the red marker.

He had done it. He had followed my friend in at lunch and watched her. Then he nabbed my heart-felt letter and did the most horrid thing ever. He rewrote it on the board and displayed it for everyone to see. Awful. Pure awful.

I could do nothing but cry. He, that sweet boy, just stood there shaking his head. Then he did the sweetest thing ever. He walked over and grabbed the note and shoved it in his pocket. He took the red marker, recapped it, and placed it in the basket. Then he grabbed an eraser and calmly erased the words. He then walked to the tissue box, grabbed a tissue and brought it to me. Then he walked back to his seat, took out his math book, and got to work. The room fell silent and everyone else started working on their math, too.

We never talked about that day again. He never became my boyfriend, but we stayed friends until I moved.

I will never forget how horrifying that day was....but will always remember that little Southern gentleman. He brought me a Kleenex, y'all!

And that other boy.....ugh. He continued terrorizing me right through 8th grade. Only to "ask me out" the last year I was at that school.

Uh...the answer was a big, fat "NO!"

No Twirling Ballerina In This Jewelry Box....But Still Lots of Old Memories

I rearranged the furniture in my bedroom the other night. And, boy, did it need it.

Because what you find when you move furniture are all the dust bunnies and just-plain-nasty that have been living behind the chests and dressers. Ew. Gross.

What I also discovered while I was moving everything around was that my jewelry boxes were in desperate need of attention. I made a mental note on cleaning/moving day to take care of the jewelry situation when I got a chance.

This afternoon was my chance. And look what I found....

This is my mom's high school ring. Sweet, huh? I never had my own class ring (not sure why), but loved wearing my mom's. Love that I have it.

Aren't these cute? A few years ago, my mom ran across all of my old jewelry from when I was a little girl and gave them to me. I want to wear the Strawberry Shortcake pendant, but Kirk won't let me. *wink*

This was my grandmother's (my mom's mom). A couple of Christmases ago, my mom gave my sister and I each a piece of her jewelry. Very special.

This pretty cameo was my other grandmother's (my dad's mom). She loved her jewelry!!

My daddy picked this necklace out for me and gave it to me for Christmas. Mom said he picked it out all by himself. Isn't that sweet?

And I found the little pill box that I keep all the boys' teeth in....shhhhh....the boys would be highly irritated if they knew their teeth didn't fly off with the Tooth Fairy but rather lived in their mom's bedroom. The box is one that Kirk brought me home from Denmark.

Now this is a little awkward. This is my promise ring. Only it's not from Kirk. See, I told you it was awkward. I had a very long relationship my freshman and sophomore year of high school, and received a promise ring. He didn't want it back when we broke up....so it still sits in my jewelry box. Kinda weird, huh?

And then I found 3 of the exact same tie tack from Kirk's company. He has never worn any of them and probably never will.

And then I found this ONE earring. Kirk bought me this pair of diamond studs several, several years ago. I lost one...I'm thinking it was the vacuum cleaner's lunch...but, I still have the other one. It seems so lonely....maybe I should just wear one. Nah.

And I found my precious necklace that is one-of-a-kind. My parents had it made for me in Thailand, and it is "Amber" written in Thai. I haven't worn it in forever...but, I think I'm going to. One of my favorite things about the necklace are all the people that stop to tell me that I have it on backwards! Hee hee! It's cute, huh?

What I didn't take pictures of are all my bazillion bracelets and necklaces that came from a couple of shopping trips to Sam Moon in Dallas. That place is wild! I also didn't include the gobs of beads, beads, and more beads.


It was kind of fun to dig through my jewelry box and find the items that I don't take out regularly enough. Made me super nostalgic.

Jean-ius

Genius. I tell ya. Pure genius.

These jeans that I'm wearing.....get this....SIZE 6! And just in case you don't believe me....here's the tag.

Here's the best part. I'm not a size 6. Nowhere near a size 6. I have hips and thighs that were built on Reece's peanut butter cups not celery sticks and saltine crackers.

What an amazing piece of marketing magic to label a line of jeans WRONG. Genius. Because now, these are my all time favorite jeans. Ever. And I want to buy zillions of them. Genius. I now own 4 pair.

Did I mention that they are a 6?! I tight-rolled my last pair of size 6 jeans.....it has been that long ago!

Okay....and just because I think it is funny.....check this out....

See all that fuzz? That is my jeans shedding. Seriously. They are "organic" jeans (whatever that means), and I have had cotton fuzz rolling off these britches all day. Crazy.

Wait....did I mention that I'm wearing a size 6? :)

My Heart Hurts

For a precious daughter of Jesus that I have never met. It hurts for her and her family.

My sweet friends, Lisa and Wes, have a beautiful niece who is battling for her life. I have prayed for this sweet girl for a year now. My heart has smiled when the good news came and my heart has cried when the news was bad.

Her family is hurting. Because they are watching their sweet angel prepare herself to meet her Jesus.

And my heart hurts. It hurts for Hannah. And it hurts for her family.

Please pray. Please pray.

(Hannah's Aunt Lisa detailed her story here. And you can read here what Lisa had to say today.)

In Honor of Our Presidents...

I have carefully researched our nation's history and gathered fabulously illustrated children's books on Lincoln, Jefferson, and Roosevelt to read to my children as they are dressed as the respective Presidents. I have searched for elaborate arts-n-crafts projects that celebrate the lives of Washington and Reagan. My kitchen table is set-n-ready with googly eyes, construction paper, glue sticks, and fake fur. After these fabulous creations are hung to dry, my children and I will be moving into the kitchen to whip up an amazing theme dinner: a scrumptious Taft and Tyler tomato basil soup, a tasty Polk salad, a hearty dish of Nixon noodles with an Arthur alfredo sauce and Cleveland chicken, and finishing off with Kennedy kiwi and Ike ice cream for dessert. Sounds delicious, huh? We will be eating this dinner on a table decorated with a cloth emblazoned with the Presidential seal. And after dinner, we will all take our turns performing the Presidential monologues that we've prepared.

Isn't that what everyone does on President's Day when they get a day off of school?

Yah. Us neither.

We're actually spending our President's Day cleaning house and chunking old toys. My house is so gross that I am actually going to have to make a list of what to clean and when to clean it just to keep myself on track. I'm even taking a cue from Meredith and unplugging today, just so that I can get EVERYTHING done and am not tempted to hang out with you people all day.

And for dinner? No Nixon noodles for us. Kirk is gone tonight for a business dinner, so the boys and I are going to honor our Presidents with a yummy meal of Coolidge chicken nuggets and some McKinley mac-n-cheese (out of the blue box, thank you very much!).

Happy President's Day everyone.....it's cleaning day for me!


(Please don't leave me comments about being unpatriotic and callous towards our nation's leaders. I'm incredibly patriotic. I'm just also a mom....with a gross house and no time to spend the day making edible Lincoln log cabins.)

It All Started In Spanish Class

Kirk and I were best buddies in high school. Back when he had a Mexican Mafia goatee, and I had bleach blonde hair that I didn't dye. I dreamed about dating him, but never thought it would happen. We were just friends. Just really good friends.

But something happened around graduation time. I can't even really remember how it happened now. We didn't go out on a date and he didn't formally "ask me out." We just ended up together. We somehow progressed from good buddies to an inseparable couple.

Been together ever since.

When people say things like, "I married my best friend," it always makes me smile.

Because I really did.

Happy Valentine's Day, Honey!

Love you to pieces.

More Realness

Remember what I said about being a real person in a real marriage?

Real marriage happened to Kirk and I this week. Last night, in fact.

It was one of those long nights that included lots of words and a few tears. We hashed some stuff out. He talked and I let him.

We went to bed last night rather silent, but we were okay. We woke up this morning the same way.

Tonight was better. We ate dinner and smiled at each other. We watched American Idol and laughed together. Every once in awhile he winked at me. Every once in awhile I winked back.

Real marriage happens. It isn't always pretty. But it is always beautiful. Because we promised to love each other through the good and the bad.

That's beautiful.