Never Too Late

There may have been a time when another birthday paralyzed me with fear BUT I HAVEN'T SEEN A FABERGE EGG YET and I was plagued with jitters about all that I needed to accomplish WHAT IF I NEVER GET MY CHANCE TO BE ON 'THE PRICE IS RIGHT' before the next birthday. But not so much anymore.

I got a hub. I got a kid. I got a mortgage. I got student debt.

I could let all that hold me back.

But my friends are too amazing to let that happen.

Which is why I'm pleased to report that this past weekend has been ab fab, and that, HEY kiddies, it's never too late!

It's never too late to strap your kid onto your bike and get jiggy with it!

It's never too late to attend your first party at a home with a half-pipe and sit on the sidelines and yell GNARLY!! when the boarders wipe out.

It's never too late to try and convince your BFF Stephy not to move to Provi after all. (Her daughter Fabiola is indeed made of sugar cookie dough, just in case you were wondering if she was actually edible).

And finally, it's never too late to discover that the shirt you pulled out of the rag bag for the party was actually stained. Which you discover after you post pics of yourself on the interweb. Huzzah!

Grateful

I consider myself a grateful person, but when I really, I mean real-ly take the time to con-si-der myself, I am not, in fact grateful. Like, at all. Like, often. I'm not going to mince words. I grew up a rich bitch. Up until the age of, oh, say, 10, I had gorgeous clothes. I had the favor of teachers, friends, friends' parents. I got good grades. I did not want for anything.

My family's life changed, got flip-topped, tumbly bumbly when I was in the fifth grade. I became angry, resentful, bitter, and ultimately, the seeds of ungratefulness were sown.

Since that year, I have seen the ways that God took certain things away from me in my young life, e.g. prized possessions I "lost" or even the security that my parents would always be together. I can now see so clearly how the Lord was teaching me to depend only on Him. To know His grace. And in turn to be a gracious giver and a grateful receiver.

Lately I have moved back into the ungrateful realm. Just leave your dirty dinner plate out on the table. See what happens. Meet Ungrateful Personified.

And yet in the past month, we had someone come and live with us who taught me gratefulness. She occupied our guest room but only for a fraction of the day and then slept in there at night. In that short amount of time --what is a month in the shadow of a lifetime?--she offered me a glimpse of another life. A life that is seeking after the heart of God, a spirit that can find the humor in the most annoying of predicaments, a countenance that is kind and lovely.

I am different after this past month of August 2009 thanks to you. You know who you are.

Quinoa

The Loverpants family has been heatedly debating the pronunciation of quinoa. I side with Lady Merriam. Keen-wah. Loverpants sides with himself and the indigenous Peruvians. Kin-oh-e. With a schwa on the e, right? Schwa. Love that. Totally not useful but for 2nd grade reading group. Ultimately, I think it's a tomato, tomahhtohh non-debate, but my husband and I have been annoying the ever living snot out of one another over the orthodox pronunciation of this protein-rich grain that sort of sicks me out in the shape it takes when it is cooked. It curly-q's and shreds and looks like something that hangs around the shower drain at the municipal pool. It's just not very pretty.

Quinoa aside, I feel like I'm frittering away a lot of time that should be spent on drafting syllabi for this here Comp course and oh that 3 hour journalism course I'm teaching at Small Local College this fall. You know those classes that begin in one week (?!).

***

We're going to a wedding this weekend for our friends Em and Brett. I am so excited they're getting wedded. I think they may be our only friends to remain in Boston as long as we have, with the exception of my former roommate. Huzzah and Mazel Tov all around.

Em hearts Baby Girl very much.

Brett doesn't mind her either.