Gimme A Break.

I have decided to give myself a break.

I set out on a goal of 101 items in 1,001 days. Since the start date, I have been sick with allergies possibly 800+ of those 1,001 days. I also have been in two car wrecks, and my time has been consumed with ancillary things beyond my control. So I am going to take the liberty to extend my window for the tasks.

Stay tuned for the new end date.

Happy Day, Earth!

Today is Earth Day.

I think whoever started it intentionally planned for it to be in the spring, when we're all so grateful to see green, and feel warmth, and be outside.

My sister reminded me of a very appropriate Scripture in her Facebook status:

"The earth is the Lord's, and everything in it." I Corinthians 10:26 (New International Version)

 And my cousin makes a great statement via Twitter/Facebook:

"Real conservatives protect what God loves: babies, the poor, and the earth."

However you mark this day, be sure to enjoy God's handiwork! And consider how we might all respect it.

Being Erica.

I stumbled on "Being Erica" after months of seeing its blurb on Hulu.com and mentally clicking, "not interested."

Boy, was I ever wrong.

For me, "Being Erica" is a fabulous watch. As a non-cabler, I only catch it online, and IMO, it's well worth the time invested. I think it originally plays on Soap Net (so I guess that means that channel really exists).

I would say it's more of a girl-centric show -- I haven't polled anyone about this, including guys -- but since it's about a girl's world, and her life, and her past and present, I'm just guessin.'

One of the most fun parts for me is that Erica is a 30-something redhead who loves to write and edit, but is constantly getting things wrong. (In life, mainly, not in writing and editing.) Another equally fun fact is that one of my best friends' name is Erica, and especially since she's not much like the character, and I'm not a lot like my friend Erica, it cracks me up to think of MY being Erica. :-) (Which I do, you understand. With every star of every show or movie I connect with. But anyway.)

If you're female, and like the idea of a sort of  "Sex and the City" meets post-college "Felicity," maybe, you should give it a shot.

And if you're a guy, check it out it out if you want, and please also let me know what you think. But don't say I didn't warn you. :-)

A Rose By Any Other Name...

I have a lot of nicknames. Especially for a girl.

(I'm not trying to pull the "unique, just like a snowflake" card, but I really think I do.)

It first started with "Bekah Rell," my sweet sister's abbreviation of my first and middle names. Then came "Bekah," which has stuck with a lot of people (mainly family and close friends) for a very long time.

Then, or maybe before those, was "Bekah Boo." I have fond memories of my mom calling out to me in the yard or house or wherever -- "Bekah Boo, where are you?"

And somehow, a few select people in my life have picked up on that -- but not because they heard it. It's kind of uncanny. So I can count on one hand the number of people who have called me "Bekah Boo," but they totally stand out, because that was my mother's special name for me.

Then, true to form, a great friend and former coworker Kelly Shannon sensed that name but added her own "Boo" to the mix, creating "Bekah Boo Boo."

And in high school, there was "Bekah J.," which really stuck throughout college, too.

So, to tally (because I know you're keeping track), we have:

1. Bekah Rell
2. Bekah
3. Bekah Boo
4. Bekah J.
5. Bekah Boo Boo

Then, there came "Firechild," from a great friend and former coworker who unfortunately saw way too much of my redheaded temper not to tag me with that.

Growing up, my daddy referred to me as "Trouble." (No trace-back for that, I'm sure. Just random.)

As an adult, somewhere in my mid-20s, this guy I dated and another great guy friend started "RJ." I really don't know who came up with it first, but recently, another guy friend swears he started it. So I'm letting him win. (Congrats, Chuck.)

RJ has stuck for a while. I use it a lot myself. It's fun.

So also in adulthood, I've acquired Big Johnson, Phattie, Beak, Bookah, and ReJo. 

The grand total is:

1. Bekah Rell
2. Bekah
3. Bekah Boo
4. Bekah J.
5. Bekah Boo Boo
6. Firechild
7. Trouble
8. Polly (I forgot this one in the list -- thanks, Jenn) ;-)
9. Miss Priss (Also forgot this, from my childhood dentist)
10. RJ
11. Big Johnson
12. Phattie
13. Bookah
14. Beak
15. ReJo

I think that's it.

I really wish I could say I have nifty personas and costumes and wigs and poses for all these names. I don't think I do, though. I mean, yes, I've gotten older -- and sadly probably not much wiser -- but I'm a virtual flytrap for nicknames. I don't mind this. It's fun.

I also give them out very liberally, so watch out!

eBay.

I have a good friend who is constantly "winning" things on eBay. I've been picking on her for years about this -- reminding her that just because she calls it winning doesn't mean she's not having to pay for the items. :-)

I listed my first set of items on eBay this week: a plethora of books.

I have no idea what I'm doing, or if the prices I listed make any sense.

I just hope someone wins them all.

Gone Country.

I've been a lover of country music for a very long time. Like, since I can remember.

Tonight while listing some things to sell on eBay, though, and listening to iTunes, I realized that it's been a while since I've heard Alan Jackson's "Gone Country." Which makes me appreciate it more than ever.

::happy sigh::

Here's to liberating ourselves from opinions that do not matter, and listening to, singing, and laughing out loud at exactly what makes us smile!

5th Element.

Five things I'm thankful for today are:

1. Bosses who listen when you say you need help.

2. Modern medicine.

3. Hair that allows for variety. (Curly, straight, ponytail, down, up, pigtails, etc.)

4. Friends in ALL places.

5. Books.

Baton Rouge.

I always surmised I'd live in Jackson, Mississippi, for a couple of years. No more, no less.

Don't worry, though; I was there NINE years. NINE. That, as my wise, 6-year-old nephew would say, is a LONG time.

Nine years, however, taught me how to appreciate the familiar, and the comfortable, and the unfamiliar, and the newness that comes with a new place.

I was more than ready for the Red Stick when I moved here. I love it. Its flavor, sites, and sounds feel like home, and the people and personalities seem to fit the coast of Mississippi so well, so I constantly feel relaxed. That's nice.

Tonight, at a community/benefit outing, I realized something new: I know people. I recognized peeps across the room, and never felt alone, and never felt new, even though it was my first time at that venue. That was nice, too.

I like being "new" (ish). I like having things to discover and explore. But I also like the familiar and the recognizable.

So I might just be in the perfect stage in the Red Stick. There's tons here to discover that I haven't touched yet, but still enough that I'm familiar with to be comfortable.

:: happy sigh ::

Maybe there are some gypsies in my geneaology?

5 Things I'm Thankful For + Some Thoughts on Easter

Today is Easter Sunday, and that is a huge part of the five things I'm thankful for these days. Sure, I like the chocolate and seeing kids' running around all dressed up, but mainly, I'm grateful for the reminder that God has made all things new for us, and that He has given us a hope and a future in the resurrection of His Son.

So, this Easter, five things I'm grateful for are:

1. A Savior who is risen and who lives.

2. A place to go home to when I need respite, and a family who loves me like crazy -- even though I'm mainly unlovable, and they have seen that side of me many times.

3. Friends -- specifically Jane -- who never stop loving me, caring about my world, and asking how things make me feel.

4. Spring. God bless this warmer, kinder, gentler weather. It's good for the soul.

5. The symbolism of this day, and this time of year, and songs like the one below that serve as reminders that the old is gone and the past is over, and that we can look forward to newness and the future and all the great things in store for us:



Happy Easter, and much love.

Energy.

In my humble opinion (or, IMHO, to those of you acronym-savvy readers), energy is a very strange thing.

For instance, it is currently 2:25am, and I am buzzing with it. Ok, so I had a fun day. I was productive at work, got to mix business with pleasure (went to New Orleans for a vendor meeting and got to hear my favorite band and hang out with a best friend), and feel good about life. But for real. 2:25am. No medical assistance, just me, as flittery as a butterfly, hopping around and getting things done. (I know. You're jealous you're not my neighbor. Anyway...)

Also, there's the tiny (pun intended) subject of calories. Much to my surprise as an adult whose metabolism has clearly slowed (and a former student who clearly has zero memory rentention), calories are supposed to equal energy (?).

For me, calories generally equal fat rolls. So what's up with that? I mean, sure, if I consume less, I guess I feel more energetic since there's less of me to move. But if I consume more, I feel the overwhelming urge to crawl into the fetal position and nap on the couch for 7 straight hours. Which really makes zero sense. More energy = more energy, right? Wrong.

And then we move onto the "youth is wasted on the young" theory. If I watch my nephew for an hour, I am sort of jazzed, but if I watch him for 3 hours, I am wiped out.

The nephew is 6. The aunt is 33 1/2.

He wakes up ready to go, does not understand the concept of caffeine, and has not, to my knowledge, developed a taste for coffee. Two of his first words were "Go!" and "Play!," and that's pretty much the gist of what we still talk about.

"Hey Bekah. When you gonna come to Alabama so we can play again? I have some Wii games that you'll have to work really hard at. You'll love 'em!"

"Happy birthday, Aunt Bekah. Did you get any fun toys?  Oh... You got some cards and phone calls and a picture? Well....that's nice. At least people called you because they love you. Happy birthday." 

"Aunt Bekah, this big bouncy ball that I play with every time I come here.... What do you do with it? I mean, when I'm not here? EXERCISE? Oh. You don't ever roll it down your stairs for fun when I'm not here? Oh..." 

"You know, if you take a nap, we won't get to play as long. Really. I have all KINDS of cool army men to play with. You don't wanna miss this." 

"My teacher? Um, well, yeah, she's nice and all. But kindergarten is a LOT of hard work. The best part is play time. Huh? Yeah, we do math. But better than math is P.E. And recess. We can PLAY then. Yep, I did good on that test, but guess what else I'm best at? Climbing that jungle gym you saw in the playground. And the TALLEST POLE out there. I slide down it. I'm not scared at ALL."

And exercise, speaking of. It's supposed to give you energy, yes? Well, I can occasionally get the oft-rumored runner's high, but not always. (Why not always?) And if I exercise in the morning (like is constantly insinuated all responsible adults should do), I'm zapped the heck out by 3pm. No lie. If I exercise after work -- 6pm-ish -- I'm good till 10 or 11, and can go to bed at normal time, like a normal person. But if I exercise later -- 9pm or so -- game over. I'm up all night. Sometimes.

So you can see how energy is a conundrum for me.

I'm not really blogging about this to get any answers, though if you have them, feel free to share. I'm sort of typing all this out because I feel I'm jittery at now nearly 3am for no reason at all, and I might as well do something semi-productive with my time.

So, in summary, here are my thoughts:

• Calories are not defined correctly.
• Calories are mean.
• I will never get the calorie = energy thing.
• Youth IS wasted on the young.
• ....Except it's super-fun watching my nephew enjoy his youth.
• ....Unless he's waking me up with it.
• Exercise is clearly out to get me.
• Those who exercise early in the morning have issues.
• I do not.
• I could go on forever but must make myself stop.
• ....Because NO ONE else is awake right now.

Hmmpfh. So. I just yawned. How 'bout that.

Again: Let it go, let it go, let it go!

This evening, I got to see one of my favorite bands in the world -- Cowboy Mouth -- in one of my favorite cities in the world -- New Orleans -- with one of my favorite people in the world -- Tiffany Hess -- during one of my favorite times in the world -- spring.  That's good stuff.

Also good is the reminder that's it's essential to let my hair down, enjoy life as it is, and for the love of Pete, to occasionally let it go.

I remembered posting about this a while back, but didn't remember until I ran a blog search that it was almost two years ago! Time flies.

As I read back over the original post, it quickly came back to me what was going on then. This is very morbid, but a lot of people around me were going through a lot of insurmountable things. Like death. And terminal illness. And really, severe, harsh devastation. Like family members who were missing all of a sudden. I remember wondering why, and wishing that I didn't feel so much for others that I let it get me down as well.

Those things were terrible, and still are to remember, but thankfully, I'm not at the same point now. Each year, and season, and day presents its own issues. But whether we're gasping for what feels like our last breath or trying to keep our heads above water, life can feel like a tidal wave whose pressure never ends. Providentially, those tides really do ebb and flow, and we have our life boats and rafts and, of course, the ever-necessary sunscreen of friends and family that keep us afloat and comfortable when we need survival and health the most.

My original post from 2008 is below. This time I'm also including audio of Cowboy Mouth performing one of the best songs ever, "Jenny Says."

Let it go, let it go, let it go?

(Posted Summer 2008)

One of my favorite bands in the world is Cowboy Mouth. And one of my favorite songs of theirs is "Jenny Says."

Lately, it's been easy to let things get to me. There's been lots of sadness around me, and subsequently, in me. I don't like that.

I know that without the sad times, I can't really experience the truest joy of the good times. But I'm beginning to think there's only so much sadness a girl can take.

So along with my all-time favorite Bible verse (John 10:10 - "I have come that they might have life, and have it more abundantly."), the help of wonderful friends and family, and being on the look-out for those day-to-day pleasures that make life more fun to live, I am going to make an effort to live by Cowboy Mouth's lyrics this week:

I've got no reason for the things I fear

The things that plague me when I see and hear

A dime's a nickel and a nickel's none

I throw myself into the Sunday sun

That summer Sunday when you went insane

You said you're going, but instead I came

I'm throwing oranges in an apple cart

The ties that bind are tearing me apart

Jenny says turn off the radio

Jenny says turn off the light

Jenny says turn off the video

You beat yourself up to bring yourself down

Let it go, let it go, let it go

Let it go, let it go, let it go

When the world keeps coming down on me

I let it go

I've got no reason for the things I say

She turned toward me then she turned away

There's lots of voices in a modern world

They take their toll upon a modern girl

I've got no reason for the things I fear

The things that plague me when I see and hear

I press my finger on an itchy trigger

What once was small right now is so much bigger

Jenny says turn off the radio

Jenny says turn off the light

Jenny says turn off the video

You beat yourself up to bring yourself down

Let it go, let it go, let it go

Let it go, let it go, let it go

When the world keeps coming down on me

I let it go

I've got no reason for the things I do

The dealer deals and then the deal is screwed

You throw your cards up on the playing table

My name is Cain and I am now unable

I've got no reason for the things I fear

The things that plague me when I see and hear

A dime's a nickel, a nickel's none

I throw myself into the Sunday sun

Jenny says turn off the radio

Jenny says turn off the light

Jenny says turn off the video

You beat yourself up 'cause you love it

Let it go, let it go, let it go

Let it go, let it go, let it go

When the world keeps coming down on me

I let it go

Let it go, let it go, let it go

Let it go, let it go, let it go

When the world keeps coming down on me

I let it go

I let it go, let it go, let it go

I let it go, let it go, let it go

I let it go, let it go, let it go

I am really going to make an effort with this (and living life more abundantly, and paying attention to those "small" daily delights God blesses us with) this week, and I'd really love it if those of you who pay attention to things like MySpace moods and statuses (or stati?!) would keep me accountable on this.

Just remind me -- when the world is coming down on me, I let it go.

Grazie.

Happy 100th Birthday, Southern Miss!

My alma mater is celebrating its 100th birthday this week! True to form, political cartoonist Marshall Ramsey tied in Mississippi's current budgeting issues with the event:

Southern Miss, To The Top!

Go Golden Eagles!

Five Things I'm Thankful For.

Five things I'm thankful for are:

1. A job that keeps me busy and pays me.

2. Cousins who crack me up.

3. A mother who reminds me of the things that matter most.

4. Spring!

5. A sunroof.

No Duds Allowed.

I am fortunate enough to have a home away from home away from home, and it's at the Longs' house in Baton Rouge. Angela -- who started as a fun coworker and has ended up as an even funner friend -- and her whole family are just precious and real and so enjoyable to be around, including their gorgeous Goldendoodle.

Dude K. Long joined their family soon after I started working with Angela, and he's absolutely beautiful. He also manages makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world he wants to play with and lick, which is always a fantastic trait in a new friend. :-)

Michael, Angela's 7-year-old, also loves Dude. However, Michael lives with Dude, so he's understandably had to set boundaries that are not required of me.

Last year, when Michael was 6-ish and Dude was 1-ish, Michael decided to keep Dude out of his room by posting a sign on his door: 

No Duds Allowed.

I'm not sure if Dude recognized 3/4 of his name enough to follow the instructions that night, but the message on the sign has stuck with me as something I'd love to post on all my doors -- literal and figurative. I mean, really, who wouldn't want to keep out all the duds in this ridiculous world?

After all, it's up to us to keep our homes (and hearts, and souls, and dreams) as safe and sound as we possibly can.

Geaux Michael! Such a wise, wise future Saint-slash-animal caretaker at the zoo.

Sticks and Stones.

I've only had one broken bone in my life, but do tend to bruise pretty easily. I don't know if it's the fair skin, or that I'm a klutz, or just that I'm a girl, since a lot of girls say the same thing. At any rate, I can look down any given day and see all kinds of random bruises that I can't remember getting. They don't always hurt, but they're ugly and sometimes they last a long time.

Especially having red hair, I've been ridiculously fortunate not to be the brunt of nasty jokes much throughout the years. Maybe this is because I laugh at my own self a lot. Maybe peeps are considerate enough to save their ugly talk for behind my back. Or maybe -- just maybe -- it's because I try really hard to follow the rare and consistent traits that I grew up watching my parents and sister live daily and seemingly effortlessly, and I try to be kind (though I don't always succeed, especially when I'm stressed out). I'm forever laughing with people about my faults, and often pointing them out to those around me, but am not proud to say that especially in the past, I tend to be pretty sensitive when facets of me that I view as negative are pointed out, even by friends who mean well. But basically, when it comes down to it, I have really, really escaped a lot of life's barbs, and I am utterly grateful for that.

My precious sister got picked on a good bit in elementary and middle school. She is absolutely the sweetest person in the universe, so I think it offended me almost as much as it did her. She was very shy and quiet at the time, so I don't think that helped matters much. Thankfully, she came out of her shell and blossomed into a gorgeous, more outgoing but still very kind young lady, and boom, the jokes stopped. I don't think I ever realized, though, how much those jokes could have hurt her. I mean, I still haven't talked to her about it (I'm typing in a very stream-of-consciousness way right now, so I'm sure we'll discuss it soon), but good grief. It had to hurt. Basically a stick figure of a child, I often took up for her on the bus or wherever, using words as my fight and praying I wouldn't get beat up by the instigators.

Yesterday, I was insulted worse than I can ever remember. I also experienced raw, emotional hurt in a way I can never remember hurting. I don't know if the (not particularly nice in general) person knew she ruined my day, and possibly month, but she did. It was just a thoughtless comment, but absolutely unneccessary, and it made me feel fat and slobby and small (but definitely not in a good way), and like the biggest loser (but also not in a good way).

After crying pretty hard about the rude comments and seeking immediate e-counseling from 10 of my closest friends, including my mom & sister, I realized: there's something to that old saying.

Sticks and stones -- or in my case, being thrown from a horse -- may break my bones, but words won't break me.

(I wouldn't go so far as to say words can never harm us, because the initial bruise is pretty nasty. But thankfully, we have our circle of peeps who take care of us with the effect that rubbing alcohol and antiseptic have on bruises and cuts. And after a little bit, the bruises fade, the cuts stop bleeding, and hopefully later, we can look back at that experience as un-fun, but not life-altering.)

So what lessons did I learn from being school-bus-picked-on at 33 1/2? 
1. Always have a few of your closest friends nearby to stand up for you, even if it's only to you.
2. Remember to be kind to others, because what we think are lighthearted comments may be really hurtful to them.
3. Always have a few of your closest friends nearby to stand up for you, even if it's only to you.
4. Keep your "surmising," as my Nan would say, to yourself.
5. Always have a few of your closest friends nearby to stand up for you, even if it's only to you.
6. Keep Taylor Swift in your iTunes. Always.
7. Always have a few of your closest friends nearby to stand up for you, even if it's only to you.

Because in the end, thank the Lord, bruises really do fade and cuts heal. Especially with the soothing ointment of wonderful friends and family.

Rebirth.

This week, for the first time, I had the opportunity to hear the infamous Rebirth Brass Band in New Orleans. They were fantastic! I was mesmerized!

Their name, though, accompanied with my current season of self-evaluation, made me think a little about how great it was to experience some Rebirth internally. Sure, the band was amazing, but really, so is going through a time when you allow yourself to think about the old, ponder the present, and hope for a better new.

Quite a melody.

The Best Day.

I was going to save writing about this song for a Mother's Day post to thank my mom for all she is and has been, but I've been realizing how much it applies to so many people in my life: both of my parents, my sister, her husband, their son, and, as I've so been reminded the past two days, my cousins.

I have tons of cousins -- really, not an exaggeration -- but was super fortunate to grow up in close proximity with three boy cousins, who served as brothers-in-kind for my sister and me, without the harassment and bathroom humor and embarrassing displays of overprotectiveness.

Russ, Jeff and Greg were -- and are -- three of the most amazing people I've ever met. They're all unique from each other in every way, from their talents to their appearances to their skills and career paths. In fact, the only qualities I would say they truly share are their innate desires to work hard for what they have, their ingenuities in their own fields, their senses of humor, and the kindness that lies within them all. It's kind of always been that way.

Russ (who was once "Rusty" and is now "Russell," but I can't seem to shake "Russ"), has forever been an academic. Brilliant, communicative, and witty, this oldest of the three is the best person ever to talk about books, current events, politics, and theology with. He's also good for some quality country music and bobblehead convos, among other things. His quality level only doubled when he married sweet Maria, who happened to be my sister's best friend in high school (perk!). Russ and Maria complement each other in every way, and have seen their share of life issues, but are still some of the most fun people to be around that I've ever met. Thankfully, they're teaching their four sons to be the same way. It's already fun to see how Timothy, Benjamin, Samuel and Jonah's personalities are emerging.

Greg is the youngest of the three, and is truly a shining light. That sounds really ethereal and even almost feminine, but Greg is one of the most real people I've ever met, and definitely one of the most masculine guys ever. My first memories of him involve his sweet smile, adorable dimples, and blonde curls, and he's been consistent with the first two of those ever since. (The curls got cut off, much to my Nan's chagrin, I'm sure.) Gregory Scott is hilarious and the pure definition of "entrepreneur," but he is also a wonderful friend. He listens and cares and can turn anything -- and I do mean anything -- into a complete laugh riot. In fact, I've just decided that if I really want people to celebrate instead of mourn at my funeral, he should speak. :-) His wife, Alicia, and her daughter, Lauren, have added more to our family than I can even say. Lauren plays soccer with the best of 'em, resists all things diva, and will never have an awkward stage. She's the coolest adolescent ever, and if she weren't so sweet, I'd be bitter about this. At 33 1/2. Like Maria, Alicia is beautifully supportive of her husband, and their mutual adoration is so clear. I love this about them, and for them, and particularly for Greg, because he deserves that so much.

The one-third of this fabulous trifecta that I most recently got to spend time with is Jeff. Jeff's the middle, and to the naked eye is as polar opposite from Russ and Greg and Russ and Greg are from each other. Because of his job, I don't have the opportunity to see Jeff nearly as much as I do Greg, who lives where we're all from, or even Russ, who lives in Kentucky. So when I do see Jeff, we get concentrated time rather than short visits, which is where The Best Day comes in.

Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, I got to hang out with Jeff for the first time since Christmas. A lot has happened since Christmas, and I'm not really in a season full of guy friends right now, so getting to see and debrief and talk and laugh with Jeff was just the most fantastic thing I could've asked for. Not to mention, we saw each other in one of our favorite cities, New Orleans, so that was wonderful and the weather was perfect and the food was as delicious as it's made out to be.

I've been working like a dog lately, and I've been tired physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. Very few people in my life are like vitamin shots to my soul, but everyone mentioned in this blog is, including Jeff. And I suspect that just hanging out and laughing over po-boys did more for my soul than a vacation ever could.

This song is by Taylor Swift, and is called "The Best Day":



So, to my sweet mother and excellent father, and my beautiful-in-every-way sister, and my brother-in-law who exceeds expectations, and to my ever-growing nephew who makes me smile by thinking of him, and to Russell D. who continues to inspire me and make me proud, and Greg, who can crack me up with a one-line text, thank you for all those Best Days. There have been many, and I can't hear this song without thinking of each of you, and so many others from my childhood.

And to Jeffrey Allen, who is really too cool to be hanging out with me but does anyway, and who does for my spirit what Dyanne does for my hair, I really did have The Best Day with you. Thank you for sharing your time and wonderfulness with me. :-)


* The pic above is of Russ, Jeff, myself and Greg on Christmas Eve 2009 at Nanny and Pop Ball's house. Have I mentioned I love these people?!

Holy what-rimony?!

I don't always treat the institution of marriage as kindly as I should.

I'm not mean about it, per se, but I am very aware that I'm just not as consistently polite about it as my mother raised me to be.

This is probably a good time to reinforce several truths:
It's not that I don't like the idea of marriage, and it's not that I like it too much. I'm neither adverse to joining my life with the right person's, or so jaded that I scoff anyone who does it, or even what i consider to be the worst of all -- a single person who is so envious of married people that I'm bitter that I'm not there.

I should also probably clarify that this has become my view of marriage in general, not when it specifically applies to those I'm close to, and whose love I've watched unfold and strengthen. I am fortunate beyond measure to have parents and a sibling and other close relatives and friends who have lived out the true ideal of marriage, through thick or thin, for better or worse. And I'm super, amazingly grateful for that. Really.

It's just that, since friends my age have started getting married (and unmarried), I haven't very often seen the institution being lived out as the sacred commitment I believe it should be. As a result, more often than not, I view jumping into it as a lottery purchase of sorts, or a fad weight-loss buy-in.

("You signed up for that? Just because you want the ideal version of you? And you're expecting results with no work? And you think YOUR one-in-a-million shot's gonna pan out perfectly? Ohhh-kaaay...")

And there are the people who seem to be getting married only because it's time to do that, or because their friends are, or because it's expected that that's their next logical step. And while those factors aren't bad by any means, and could probably use a little more attention from this redhead, they're, to me, just not enough to hold water on their own. Especially when the couple constantly fights, or complains about each other, or puts one another down in public or private. In those situations, doing what's expected just because it's expected is like refusing to exercise but spending good money on a fad weight loss pill: why bother, when this probably isn't a healthy or long-term solution, and will only cause more damage in the end?

And even when one -- or both -- walks down the aisle with an accurate, secure, sane definition of "forever," where's the guarantee that no one's dictionary changes after a baby is born, or a house is built, or a job is lost, or a disease is discovered?

Maybe my perspective comes from having dated a commitment phobe for too long. (Despite my protectiveness of that relationship in the past, placing myself under the direct influence of a guy who, even in his 30s, broke out into hives over "the 'L' word" couldn't have been healthy. Also, still saying "the 'L' word" in your 30s is probably not a good sign.)

Or maybe watching beautiful people whom I dearly love privately writhe in pain as their marriages shatter has taken its toll.

Or perhaps my not-so-happy-ending-assumptive view comes from the jaw-dropping, ever-growing number of my high school classmates and childhood friends who are already, after 15 years, divorce statistics...some more than once over.

Whatever the reason, I'm not always giddy when someone tells me they're engaged.

This was totally not the case when James Findley called me last year with his news. When I heard my best-all-around guy friend's voice tell me that Melissa said yes, I couldn't stop the happy tears from forming in my eyes.

James and Melissa are, like so many dear friends of mine, a precious couple whose love has intensified and withstood enough obstacles to ensure that they'll give marriage a good name, and will treat it as holy matrimony.

I am honored to be their friend -- individually and collectively -- and am truly sad to be missing their wedding (even though James promises he understands and I've promised to share dinner and their wedding video once they're back from the honeymoon and things are a little calmer for all).

I couldn't be at their ceremony today, but my heart is full with how proud I am of my sweet friends, because I know they did not speak or feel their vows lightly, and that they won't take them lightly, either.

And because of newlyweds like they are now, I don't find myself wondering what they're getting themselves into, or only holding a mere hope that things will go okay. Because of couples like James and Melissa, today I am smiling as I'm thinking about marriage.

So here's to you, Mr. and Mrs. Findley! I'm with you in spirit, and will absolutely celebrate this special time with y'all in person as soon as life allows. May God bless and keep your life together, and make His face shine gently upon you both. And above all, may He give you peace.

I love you both.

Let them eat cake.

I have to brag on a friend's son's birthday cake -- it is too cute! 

Who dat!

Oh-so-thankful.

I haven't posted much of what I'm thankful for lately, but that doesn't mean I'm not well aware of it. This week's top five are:

1. Experience. I have learned a lot in the past 33 years, and in the past 23 that I can remember the clearest as a semi-adult. :-) And I am so everlastingly grateful for that. 'Cause guess what? Even though I might change a few decisions along the way if I had to do it all over again, I would definitely not want to lose anything I've learned. Life: invaluable.

2. Spring. It's coming, peeps! For real! I felt it a couple of times this week and I am NOT giving up hope.

3. Lent. Even though I'm not giving anything up this year (I have a few excuses, but no really good ones), the season still has an impact on me and makes me appreciate all that Christ has done for me, and all the lagniappe I experience as His Child.

4. My daddy. He is SO smart. Really. I can't even express to you how I amazed I am when he starts talking cars. I love that his speciality is so polar opposite of mine. Sometimes it's hard to appreciate people's areas of expertise when they're similar to what you delve into every day. Ya know?

5. Our country. I know, I know. I always say this. But for real. We live in the land of the FREE. How cool is that? How close were we to being born in a Communist or Socialist country, where we did not have what we consider to be super simple choices daily? I'm just saying. I appreciate it more and more the older I get. And as my nephew will readily attest to, I'm gettin' on up there. :-)

Happy weekend, everyone! Live it up!