Archive for January, 2003

lipstick.

Monday, January 13th, 2003

I feel a need to justify what some might deem as impractical spending concerning lipstick. All women realize this but for the benefit of my male audience I will address the two types of lipsticks.

First, you will discover a type of common lipstick. The colors are paltry oranges and reds (with names like steamy orange and fire red) and the sticky consistency is rather gross. The lipstick comes in little drab plastic tubes that require the force of Samson to untwist. You can save your hard-earned money and pay only $2.99 for your lipstick. However, you will walk away with a delightful bit of rubbishy lipstick.

The other type of lipstick is the classy style. There is no hiding the fact that you will pay top-notch. Prices vary from $15.99 to $22 per tube. You might gasp at the enormous cost but let me reassure you of two things.

1. No more drab plastic tubes. I’ll choose Clinique for an example. The rippled silver edge of the lipstick container reflects light from any angle in which you might hold it. You can’t help but feel somewhat classier when holding a bit of lipstick that is heavy in the palm of your hand.

2. No more quacky-named red and orange lipsticks. There is a vast color wheel of choices from sweet mocha to nude ice.

And when sitting in an opera, you can’t help but feel more like a lady when you open your furry black purse to remove your opera glasses and they clink against your lipstick. Plastic doesn’t clink.

party.

Sunday, January 12th, 2003

After much conjuring and wicked conniving, Meagan (Hannah & Heather’s six year old sister) convinced Charity that she could come to the party last night. Needless to say, we became quite annoyed with her. She is a sweet kid but she just whined and ate a lot of food and was Little Miss Complainer all night. We should have known better than to have a little kid there.

About three hours into the party, after much bouncing around and drinking Lord knows how much cherry Pepsi (we had no clue when she would sneak into the kitchen) she rambled into the kitchen and started moaning. We looked up at her just in time to see her puke everywhere. Ick. We finally got everything cleaned up and I made her sit down and stop running around.

I gathered all of the stuff up and then I looked at Meagan (who was sitting on a barstool in the kitchen) and told her firmly (but quite facetiously), “Look, if you are going to get sick again you’d better do it right here and right now because you will not get sick in my car.” She had the nerve to smile and then get sick all over the place.

I just died laughing. Charity was screaming at me to help her and I was doubled over the kitchen sink laughing uncontrollably. I’m going to be a horrible mom. I wouldn’t have laughed if Meagan hadn’t have been giggling the whole time she was puking. Charity and Caycie can’t handle anything like that so I did have to help Meagan. It doesn’t really bother me that much…but I was giggling the whole time, which made me feel awful.

We piled into my car and I gave Meagan a bag to hold. The instructions were clear- if you feel like you are going to get sick then open the door and get out. I prayed the whole way to their house and thankfully she didn’t get sick.

changing of the guards.

Saturday, January 4th, 2003

Today like paper to burn
Like powder and gun
An iron red sun I’ll wait
I’ll stay here and wait

Today like bending to break
Like water and sand
Curling on land I’ll wait
I’ll stay here and wait

I’ll sit and watch the
Changing of the guards
Iron and granite fleur de lis
On the gate house
Green copper curtains faces of stone

-Rosebud

harbor.

Friday, January 3rd, 2003

My heart is aching and tears stream down my face. Words of concern appear as swords and each step I take seems but a floundering attempt at selfishness. My wishes overwhelm me and my past failures beat and crush any hopes that have begun to grow.

All that calms my soul are hot baths and pouring my heart into the piano. He finds me there…when I can weep and no one hears me. He stills my heart through the sweet music of worship.

…come to God in the utter dearth of his feelings and desires, without a glow or an aspiration, with the weight of low thoughts, failures, neglects, and wandering forgetfulness, and say to Him, “Thou art my refuge.”

– George MacDonald

glimpses.

Thursday, January 2nd, 2003

I love to watch the birds bathe on our deck. The birdbath has a tiny sprinkler on it and each of the sparrows will line up on the edge and then one by one jump in the water. They wiggle and hop and dunk their heads in the cold water and then fluff their feathers out until they look quite odd.

If I look through the window onto our screened in porch I can peek at Oreo. He squats in his little house hunkering down against the wind. I love to watch him wash his face and paws. He takes bouts of friskiness and hops around his cage wildly at times.