Three minutes until midnight; my house is quiet, but contentedly full.  It has snowed — real snow, with inches more due to come while we sleep tonight — and I have my hands full.  It’s funny because wouldn’t most people use that phrase in a negative way?  And yet I don’t mean it that way; my hands are full tonight, in a very good way.

– — –

I found out that one of my college girls was sick and that her roommate was going home this weekend, so I called her and told her to pack a bag because she was coming to stay with me.  She didn’t argue, but I knew she wouldn’t; every college girl secretly wants to be taken care of when they’re sick.

And so I left work, picked up my little Avi and went to get my college girl, Anna.  I took them to my house, safely deposited them inside, and then headed to the store to get medicine, chicken noodle soup and Gatorade (for my patient), candy (for my Avibug) and milk and bread (to properly honor my southern girl heritage).  Cate called on my way home to ask if she could crash at my house, too.  Before long, everyone was inside, warm and together.

After I got everyone settled with dinner, I began washing the sheets on my bed, finding pillows from the laundry room.  Cate discovered my Dr. Mario game and we lost her to it for a good two hours while Anna, my college girl, fell asleep curled up on the end of my couch.  I put Avi in her pink tutu and we did ballet in the kitchen while I carried dishes to the sink and planned breakfast for the morning.

It wasn’t long before I was rocking Avi to sleep and doling out medicine to Anna.  Cate wanted to be in her own bed tonight and, since we couldn’t get our cars up my driveway earlier, she was able to get to the main road to head home.  I put Anna in my bed, prayed over her and turned on some music to help her fall asleep.  She has a fever but is shaking from chills, so I’m not sure exactly what she has but I’m determined that, by the time she leaves my house at the end of the weekend, she’ll be on the mend and ready for another week of classes.

– — –

My hands have been full tonight and I’m so very thankful.  I have a need in me to nurture and, on nights like this when I have darling girls in my house that both need nurturing even if they are over 15 years apart in age, a part of me is fulfilled.  I have people in my home tonight that I can nurture; I have people to pour love into tonight… and I get to do it again tomorrow, too.  It might even be better than the snow itself, this gift of having tangible ones to nurture tonight.

“I may be strong-minded, but no one can say I’m out of my sphere now, for woman’s special mission is supposed to be drying tears and bearing burdens.” – Louisa May Alcott

I don’t think I’ve ever told you this before, but Thursday nights are my favorite part of the week.  It’s actually kind of funny how that came to be… back when I was doing Starlite, we did our elementary school programs on Mondays, our high school programs on Tuesdays and our middle school programs on Thursdays.  By the time I left the office each Thursday evening, I was exhausted but at the same time relieved.  Even though we would spend Friday prepping for the next week, at least we had successfully finished another week of programs.  Thursday evenings quickly became my finish line for the week and, even though Starlite is gone, my love for Thursday evenings hasn’t left.

And I get to spend this one with you.

– — –

When I was in grad school, I took a class where we spent time learning about what happens to people when they come out of vocational ministry.  I remember listening intently because I knew that, at some point, it was likely that I wouldn’t be in ministry as a career and I wanted to know what to expect.  The professor went through a list of emotions and feelings that someone would go through and I remember writing it down, line after line.

It’s been so interesting over these last few months to watch myself go through the different stages, almost knowing what is to come next.  I haven’t said too much about Starlite over the last few months because, quite honestly, the stage I was in was relief that I no longer had that amount of stress on myself and I didn’t want to be judged for it.  Around 90% of the people who read this blog never interacted with me through Starlite, so it’s hard to describe how much joy and yet weight it was for me because you never saw it.  I don’t regret doing Starlite for even a minute, but I never expected to feel as relieved as I have these last few months.  And, naturally, I’ve struggled with guilt for feeling that way.

Over these past few months, I haven’t felt grief over the ending of Starlite and that’s bothered me.  I kept waiting for it to hit me and, when it never did, I just assumed that maybe that wasn’t a stage I was going to go through.  And then, a couple of weeks ago, it began to hit.  I think I’m just seeing the beginning of it and, to be blunt, I expect to feel it much more deeply over the coming months.  I’m actually relieved that those feelings are coming — the opportunity to “mourn” it in a way — because I think that’s a healthy part of moving on, even if it probably won’t feel very good as I go through the emotions.

– — –

One of the things that many people told me to expect when I left vocational ministry was that I might feel differently about my relationship with God, which is perhaps the understatement of the year.  I am in a really strange place when it comes to my relationship with Him and various aspects of the Christian life.  I think that part of that is due to the changes with Starlite ending, but I also think that some of it is coming with just being at the age I am right now.  Have you ever seen a picture of an astronaut floating around in space while tethered a shuttle?  I feel like that astronaut, but whatever cord has me tethered seems awfully long and loose some days.

– — –

I wrote that last line quite a bit ago; I’ve just been laying here in bed, thinking about how important the relationship is between a girl and her God.  I’ve gone through so many different seasons of life with God and I find it fascinating that I’ve never needed Him more than I do now; the need never begins to diminish, but only grows as I get older.

Sleep well, loves.

After safely depositing Trey and his stitched foot at his apartment on Monday night, I raced home to meet my college girls who were coming over for our weekly Life Group. A couple of them were already in my driveway by the time I got home, so after getting us inside, I got a pan full of cookies into the oven as quickly as possible.

As you can see from the following picture captured by my cellular device, they turned out lovely.

Listen, the way I see it, the cookies were going to come out of the oven one of two ways: either totally burnt (my typical specialty!) or not exactly fully cooked.  I chose the latter because, quite honestly, the girls had actually wanted to eat the cookie dough raw but I wouldn’t let them because, hello, no one’s getting salmonella on my watch.

I think I just turned into my mother.  I’M TOO YOUNG FOR THIS.

Also, I’d just like to mention that?  The coffee maker you see the edge of in the picture above?  Oh yes, that would be the $3.00 one that caused me to almost lose my Christian witness the day after Thanksgiving BUT DID I MENTION IT WAS ONLY THREE DOLLARS?!?

Once the other girls got there, it only took about 27 seconds for the cookies to be devoured and, after we had technically finished Life Group, I announced that we were going to learn the moves to Hannah Montana’s “Hoedown Throwdown” next mainly because I’ve been wanting to master those sweet dance moves ever since I watched the movie on my way to London last summer and I figured that I might as well make my college girls learn them with me, except for the two of them who already knew the moves by heart (I’m looking at you, Anna and Stephanie).

After we had successfully proved that, really, we’re still middle school girls at heart, it was time for the ultimate competition to begin: a Dr. Mario playoff on the Wii.

I have this feeling in my heart that only a few of you are going to know what I’m talking about when I say “Dr. Mario” and that makes me sadder than I will ever be able to convey.  For those of you who don’t know, it’s a video game that Nintendo came out with in 1990.  My brother and I would play it for hours as children mainly because it was the only — and I mean only — video game I knew how to play (it’s a lot like Tetris, if you’re familiar with that game).

Flash forward many, many years later to the relationship I was in last year.  My boyfriend had a Wii and I happened to mention one night that I wish they had Dr. Mario for the Wii because I hadn’t played the game in years.  The next time I came over to his house, he surprised me with the game which actually ended up being a bad move on his part because I was suddenly far more interested in playing the game than spending time with him.  Oops?

True story: when we broke up last year, I would sometimes think about certain things I missed about the relationship and, naturally, get sad.  Then I’d start thinking about how I’d never get to play Dr. Mario again and get even sadder.

But then everything changed when I got a Wii this Christmas because, approximately three minutes after Gosling set it up for me, I instructed him to download Dr. Mario, which is fantastic because, if I end up spending the rest of my life single as a slice of cheese, at least I will own Dr. Mario and know how to change a blown fuse.

Oh, you read that correctly: when my fuse went out last week, I most definitely had to change it myself because Gosling was going out of town and didn’t have time to come over and deal with my little problem of having no electricity in 1/3 of my house, but hey, no big deal Gosling, it isn’t like I’m going to remember this for the rest of our lives and remind you of it the next time you need me to do something for you like, oh I don’t know, share my notes from last week’s Advanced Grammar class that you missed.

Also: when I went to the local hardware store to purchase a fuse or two to replace in my breaker box, I couldn’t find anyone to direct me to the fuse aisle and got a little frustrated and, when some poor salesman finally approached me to ask if I needed help, I promise you — I PROMISE YOU — that I looked him directly in the eyes and said “Do you happen to have any boyfriends in stock?”

For the record, they didn’t but they did have the type of fuse I needed.  You win some, you lose some.

But back to the good doctor.   So, since I’ve been the proud owner of a circa-1990 video game, I’ve become addicted to it.  Like, I want to play ALL THE TIME.  It has this feature where I can play people live from around the world and suddenly I’m realizing that I probably sound like a complete geek right now but, really, I don’t even care BECAUSE THAT IS HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS GAME.

It’s been my goal for awhile now to cause other people that I’m in direct relationship with to also become addicted to this game because it’s more fun to play someone live in your living room, especially since, currently, no one can dominate me.  I first got Gosling hooked on the game and then set out to get my college girls roped in to ensure that I’ll always have a large number of opponents to choose from on any given night of the week.

Three of them — SarahRuth, Anna and Stephanie — took the bait and are now, by their own admission, absolutely addicted to the game as well.  It’s been the subject of Facebook statuses, late night calls and, as you’ll see from below, even texts.

Anna:  I have some good news.  I found a way to play Dr. Mario online.  By next Monday, I should be invincible.

Me:  Oh, please.  I’ve had YEARS of practice.

Anna:  Ok, perhaps not invincible.  But I think you’ll find my form much improved.

That’s right; Anna is working on her Dr. Mario playing “form.”  But that isn’t even the worst part; last Monday night, whilst trying to teach Anna and Stephanie tricks on how to beat the different levels, I got frustrated and announced — with absolute seriousness — that one night in the near future, I will be teaching a “Dr. Mario Theory” class so they can learn why they need to make certain moves in certain places in the game.

Send help before we quit going to our jobs and classes because we’ve stayed up all night playing a 1990 video game.

About two weeks ago I decided to start teaching Avi how to recognize letters of the alphabet, so I bought some pink glitter letters (obviously) and began going through the letters with her.  Because she hasn’t worked on this before now, it’s been slow — she can’t actually recognize any letters yet.

Last night, as I was peeling potatoes at the sink, Avi called me over to the kitchen table to tell me that she had “fwinally learned how to spell Amy Beff!”  I knew she probably hadn’t gotten the letters correct, but I went over to the table to at least see what she had strung together for my name.

Well, then.

As I was driving home from work last night, my cell rang and I saw Trey’s name on my screen, which surprised me because I knew that he was supposed to be at work.  As soon as I said hello, he asked me if I could come over to his apartment and take him to the ER because he had cut his foot on some broken glass and was fairly sure stitches were going to be involved.

The ironic thing about his call is that, almost two months ago, Trey had to take me to the ER one night when I hurt my foot.  I never mentioned it on the blog, but one weekend a piece of metal fell out of my guest bedroom closet onto my foot.  I had a house full of people at the time it happened, so I tried to play it off but, within two hours, my foot was swollen to the point I couldn’t put pressure on it anymore.  Trey took me to the ER where my friend Cara met us and I got the pleasure of wearing a brace for almost two weeks.

But back to last night.  Trey lives near me, in an apartment on the top floor of the building which meant that, somehow, he was going to have to get down to my car with a very injured foot.  As we stood at the top of the stairs trying to come up with a game plan, I naturally offered to carry him down the three flights of stairs because, really, he is as light as a whisper.

(I know the phrase is “light as a feather” but I like “light as a whisper” better.)

(Of course, whispers don’t actually have weight, making the phrase not really make sense but, please, just go with it.)

(I used “all y’all” last night without even meaning to; how embarrassing, right?)

So, Trey hopped down the stairs, into my car and we were off to the hospital.  They took Trey into the triage area fairly quickly and, after asking about his foot, the nurse begins to fill out the standard information on new patients, with one of the questions being “what is your relation to the person who brought you in this evening?”  I saw a golden opportunity and decided that Trey needed a little cheering up courtesy of, well, me.

“I’m his girl friend.”

Because I am his girl space friend.  Just not his girlfriend.  But, really, am I responsible if the nurse doesn’t hear the space between the word girl and friend?  Please.

Trey looks at me with this horrified expression on his face, but the nurse missed it and went to the next question which conveniently happened to be “Do you live together?”  Before I could answer for him, Trey nearly shouted “No!  No, we don’t!  I’m old school!  There has to be a wedding ring on it before she’s living with me!”

The nurse looks puzzled by this outburst so, naturally, I decide to clear up the confusion for her.

“We’ve been together for awhile, but he hasn’t put a ring on it yet.”

Again, not a lie.  We have been together in the physical presence of each other for awhile — we were together at the CMA awards, together at Christmas this year, etc.  It isn’t my fault if the nurse misinterpreted the phrase “together” to mean that we were, you know, dating.  Which we’re absolutely not.  Except in the mind of a triage nurse at our local hospital.

At this point, Trey starts looking like he would absolutely kill me if he could hobble over to where I’m sitting.  I just gave him a sweet little smile, crossed my legs and waited for the next question from the nurse whilst ignoring the stare of death radiating from Trey’s darling little eyes.

When we were taken to a room, the doctor immediately came in and, lo and behold, it was the same doctor we had two months ago when Trey brought me into the ER.  He remembered us and we had a lovely little laugh about the irony of being back in exam room again with the same type of situation before he announced that Trey was getting stitches.

I’m going to spare you the details but let’s just put it this way: unfortunately for Trey, the doctor was only able to numb part of the area where he had to do stitches.  Which meant Trey felt part of the stitches going in.  Which meant Trey squeezed my hand whilst pulling his hair with his other hand.  Which meant I started bouncing from one foot to the other because I do not like to see people in pain, whether it be Trey getting stitches or myself when the blood began getting cut off in my hand because Trey was gripping it so tightly.

Trey made the mistake of raising his head up to look at the stitches being put in which about made us both pass out right there in exam room three.  I knew I needed to distract him, so I began telling him how good his hair looked which was actually completely true because, listen, Trey embraces big hair, as seen below when we took a picture together at a gas station around 1:30 a.m. on the way home from the CMA awards.

I feel like this post needs yet another disclaimer that Trey and I have not, are not and will not date.  We’re like brother and sister, from the same big-haired family line.  We want to share each other’s volumizing hair spray, not a marriage certificate.

Anyway, telling him about how good his hair looked wasn’t distracting him enough so, in a desperate attempt to get his mind off of what was happening to his foot, I offered to sing him a song because, you know, that would totally make sense given the fact that Trey is a good enough singer to make it to the judges on American Idol whilst the puppies hide under my bed when I so much as sing in the shower.

For some reason, Trey turned down my offer to sing to him whilst receiving stitches which is so weird because it went so well the last time I sang for him, don’t you think?

When I was leaving my office this past Friday, I started thinking about what Avi and I could do this weekend.  I decided that, instead of making specific plans for us, I was just going to enjoy my little Avibug all weekend long.  I decided that I wouldn’t answer emails, work from home, etc. — that I’d have a whole weekend of just loving Aviean.

And so we played with baby dolls, baked cookies and even spent time with my mother, who drove down to see us on Sunday afternoon.  My mother had never seen my house before, so I was scrambling around trying to get it perfectly clean whilst Avi followed behind me making a mess in whatever room I had just cleaned because, as it turns out, that’s one of her favorite activities.

It was really different to have my mother in my house, but different in a good way.  It’s funny that, even at 25, we still want our parents to be proud of us and the lives we’ve created; we still want them to see our laundry room and our kitchen table and notice the painting on the wall.  I think that, as a single girl, I maybe want that even more than I would normally.

– — –

At one point in the afternoon, I could tell that Avi needed a nap and so I told my mom that I would be right back after I got her to sleep in my bed.  I carried my little ballerina (oh yes, she was in a tutu most of the weekend) to my bed and, as I rocked her to sleep, I couldn’t help but think about how surreal it was to be caring for a child while my mother sat in my living room.

Once I had Avi asleep, I couldn’t help myself; I came out and told my mom to come back to my bedroom with me.  Avi was wrapped up in her lovey (blanket), with her long hair spilled out all over my pillow.  I knew my mom would love it and I was correct; I think she almost cried watching her sleep.

Sometimes life has a funny way of turning a complete circle when you didn’t even realize it was coming.

– — –

In other news, I found a new puppy this weekend.

I’m thinking about naming her Jay / Rose.

1. Helpful kitchen tip: when you happen to run out of aluminum foil but still need to fix something that requires using it, you should not use wax paper as your substitute unless you enjoy the delicious scent of melting plastic filling your home.

2. Listen, how was I supposed to know?  Wouldn’t you think that you could substitute wax paper for aluminum foil, too?  I know I can’t be the only one who thought that would be okay.

3. I got so excited yesterday because I realized that, if I wanted to, I could start watching a tv show “live” each week.  I’m not a big tv fan, but because I worked insane hours for Starlite, I never got to watch any show when it was actually on — I would get the DVD’s and watch it over Christmas holiday or something like that.  For the first time in my adult life, I can watch a show every Thursday night if I so choose.  IT’S A WHOLE NEW WORLD.

4. I decided to try out this “getting to watch tv” thing last night and get this: I flipped a breaker.  My darling little house is renovated on the inside, but the electrical system is still old so, in other words, tv being on + space heater + microwave = loss of power.

5. But get this: my breaker box is in the kitchen which, conveniently, lost power including lighting which meant I needed to go get my trusty flash light but my trusty flash light wasn’t working which meant I had to wait until this morning to try to use sunlight to see into my breaker box because, get this, it isn’t regular breakers that you just “flip” — oh no, it’s ones you have to replace when they go out WHICH I CANNOT DO BECAUSE I CANNOT SEE WHICH ONE IS OUT.

6.  In other words, I think a call to Gosling is in order.

7.  Avi and I have no specific plans for this weekend other than an engagement photo shoot I’m doing on Saturday, but I kind of like it that way.  Who knows what we’ll get into this weekend?  I can’t wait.

8.  I didn’t have the best of days yesterday and, by the time I got home, I wanted to just go to bed and try again for today.  But then Cara called me and we talked about our lives and I started cleaning my bedroom whilst we were talking and, before you knew it, I felt a little bit better about my day.  Maybe it was just because I got to “talk it out” with someone other than the puppies?

9.  Today I am wearing a light pink headband and light pink earrings.  I love, love, love being a girl.

I haven’t mentioned the crisis in Haiti on the blog but, if you’re my friend on Facebook, you may have seen me post various statuses over the past few days about the unfolding horror that is happening with orphans in Haiti.  The suffering isn’t just limited to orphans, of course; it’s reaching across the island and into the lives of each person residing there.  The scope of the tragedy is almost too much for any of us to grasp, but when you start considering the fact that there are hundreds of thousands of children left with no parent to provide for their needs… well, it becomes nearly unbearable.

Which is exactly why I want to bare my heart with you tonight.

– — –

Before I went to Garbage City in Egypt and saw poverty-stricken children up close, I honestly hadn’t given much thought to orphans before.  I had several close friends in college who spent their holidays volunteering in orphanages throughout foreign nations, but I never went, mainly because I didn’t have that same desire.  I was in the middle of running our ministry for girls here in the States and, on more than one occasion, mentioned to friends how I was glad God called me to the jungles of middle schools rather than the jungles of Africa.

So, naturally, He sent me to Africa last summer.

– — –

When you’re standing in an orphanage staring at a room full of cribs, it’s easy to vow that you will do something — something — about what you’ve seen.  But, for many people, the fulfillment of that vow will never come.  Emotions and feelings fade when the need isn’t staring at you; it’s just, unfortunately, human nature.  Sometimes we forget what we’ve seen.

My problem is that I can’t forget.

– — –

I knew I had a problem on my hands by the time I got back on the tour bus after leaving the orphanage.  I walked to the back of the bus and took the very last seat, putting my backpack beside me in hopes that no one would want to sit next to me and talk.  I sat there, staring at the street full of garbage and knowing that life had, on that day, changed for me.

They took us back to our flats so we could shower before catching the 8:35 p.m. train out of Cairo. I can’t explain to you what a defining night that was for me, other than to tell you that as the train rolled along, I knew nothing would be the same for me.  It was confusing and yet clear at the same time; I would, somehow, be connected to orphans.

Whether I wanted to be or not.

– — –

I have no idea why God has put the plight of orphans in my heart but let me assure you that it is not because I have asked for Him to do this.  I imagine that I know a little about what Moses must have felt like when God asked him to speak knowing that he had a stuttering problem.  It’s the kind of situation that makes you want to pull up a chair at God’s conference table so you can explain to Him that He’s accidentally chosen the wrong girl for whatever plan it is that He’s got in mind.  In fact, if He’d like, I could make Him a list of girls I know who are far more suited for this calling than I.

But sometimes He picks the girl who never saw it coming.

“Had Mary been filled with reason there’d have been no room for the child.”

Madeleine L’Engle

Tuesday night, another day of Advanced Grammar under my belt.

– — –

I’m laying in bed writing this and you are not going to believe what Cuddles is doing.  Imagine my hands on top of my laptop, typing this.  Okay, you’ve got the mental image?  Cuddles is laying in my lap, but his head is laying on my left hand.  Like, laying there right now as I type these very words.  And it’s not even bothering him that, every single time I type a letter on the left side of the keyboard, his little bitty head goes up and down, up and down.  He’s just staring at the screen, watching me write this.

That’s the thing about Cuddles; whenever I’m home, he likes to be right with me — in my lap if I’m sitting, scampering along with me if I’m walking around the house.  He’s a cute puppy, just like his brother.

– — –

This morning, after telling you that I was going to be late to Advanced Grammar if I didn’t hurry, I rushed into the laundry room to grab some clothes from the dryer and, in the process, tripped over something and fell into a pile of laundry.  At least the clothes broke my fall, right?  Gosh, I wish you could have seen it.

– — –

So, who has been wondering what happened to Cousin Cate?  Judging from my inbox, a lot of you have been (though not as much mail as I got about the mysterious disappearance of Gosling from the blog).  But back to Cate: she’s doing good, very good.  A few months ago she got a job and a serious boyfriend, the latter being the most exciting, of course.  We still see each other (dinner earlier tonight as a matter of fact), but a lot of her extra time is taken up with her relationship — as it should be, of course.  That’s a natural, good part of forming a dating relationship with someone.

At dinner tonight she was giving me some updates on her relationship (I asked her permission to tell you this part) and it was obvious that things are very serious between she and her boyfriend.  She told me all of the new details and then, probably without realizing she was even saying it, said “I just can’t believe this is happening to me.  I feel like I’m in a dream.  I can’t believe this is happening to me.”  She had this look on her face, that look a girl gets when she not only loves someone but knows that they love her, too.

And as I’m sitting there listening, I have this sinking feeling in my stomach because I’m so afraid that, at some point, I’m not going to be able to get excited for my friends.

– — –

I don’t get jealous of my friends.  I wasn’t resentful when Katie got married, when Ashley had her baby.  I wasn’t envious when Christan had her second baby, and then Brandy had another one, too.  I want my friends to be given what they want.  I want to see their faces hidden behind wedding veils, arms reaching out for newborn babies.  I want to be the bridesmaid standing beside them, I want to go to the maternity ward to see their new gift swaddled in a baby blanket.

But what I’m afraid of is it becoming harder to stay that way.  I’m afraid that one day I’m going to resent that my bridesmaid dress isn’t a wedding dress, that the scrapbook I made for their baby isn’t for mine instead.  I’m afraid that, instead of wanting the best for them, I’m going to wish it could be mine instead.

To be blunt, it hasn’t been a struggle for me before; I’ve just genuinely been happy for them at each bridal and baby shower.  But tonight, as Cate was talking, I felt like an alarm was going off inside me.  Be happy for her.  Be happy for her.  Be happy for her.

And I am happy for her.  It’s just that sometimes I’m afraid that I’m going to be the only one left back here at the starting point while they all rush towards the finish line.  Before you feel sorry for me, you should know that it’s mainly pride.  I’m afraid that I’m going to be left alone in my group of friends, that it’s going to get even more embarrassing than it already is at times.  I’m afraid that I’m going to the next work social event alone, the next wedding alone, the next family holiday alone.

But, almost paradoxically, I don’t necessarily want things to be different for me.  If I had the option tonight of being in a relationship verses being alone, I’m not certain I wouldn’t choose to remain as I am tonight.  It’s safer this way, not letting anyone hold your heart in their hands; much less of a chance that they might drop it on their way out the door.

So, you know, here I am.  Two very conflicting feelings.  Caught in between.

– — –

When I write about being single, I always feel like I need to apologize for complaining which is frustrating in itself because, honestly, I’m not trying to complain.  I’m just writing about what I know and, right now, what I know is being torn between wishing I was with someone and yet being relieved that I’m not.  I think it may be called “being in your mid-twenties.”  Don’t worry; I should grow out of it in about five years or approximately 1,629 blog posts.

– — –

Speaking of the blog, I think it’s time for a makeover.  And, get this — I’m thinking about changing the name of it, too.  Now, wouldn’t that be wild?  I have a new name in mind; we’ll see.

Sleepy, sleepy, sleepy.  Off to bed before I offer to sing you a song.

File this under news that makes me want to jump up and down because I’m so excited: my college girls are back in town for another semester of school, so we started up our weekly Life Group at my house last night!  They’ve been on holiday for awhile, so it was the first time in a little over a month that I’ve had the whole group of them in my house.  I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard with that group of girls as I did last night; I had tears filling my eyes at three different points because I was laughing so hard.  I had tears filling my eyes yesterday for another reason, too — one of them, SarahRuth, asked me to be a bridesmaid in her summer wedding!

Speaking of my college girls, I had lunch yesterday with one of them, Anna, and it made me remember that I keep forgetting to show you a picture she took of herself and Avi one day whilst she was watching her so I could go to a doctor’s appointment. To get the full story behind what is happening in this picture, you should know that Anna — and her roommate SarahRuth, from above — had just introduced Avi to the wonder that is a Nerf gun.  Apparently they were allowing her to pelt them with foam bullets whilst chasing them throughout their apartment which would explain why Avi now frequently asks me if she can go stay with them instead of me.   Between all my different college girls, Avi now has about eight “aunts” who let her get away with, well, everything.

But back to the picture.

Things that should be noted about this picture:

1. Look at how nervous Anna appears to be.  She’s smiling, but she’s terrified on the inside.

2. This is probably because Avi is reloading the gun, even whilst the picture is being taken.

3. Also note how Avi is far too busy keeping an eye on potential approaching targets to actually, you know, look at the camera.

I’d think of a witty way to end this but, if I don’t go now, I’m going to be late for Advanced Grammar.