Who's his daddy?

So, any of you who have met Jarrod will surely see, as I have said many times, that all you have to do is add a mustache to Thomas (and some hair!) and he is his father. (So that's why I find him so adorable!)

My Handsome Buddy

My aunt Shirley took this yesterday at McDonald's. He is just so beautiful and photogenic.
Moving on.
Pet peeves: typographical errors, grammatical errors (particularly when people say "between he and I" or something similar), "10 items or less" (not fewer), being stared at, refusal to signal before a turn, old people who cut in line, winter weather, people who have jobs that I could do and make more money at them than I would ask.
Guilty pleasures: "American Gladiator," fast food, long showers, chocolate, Dr. Pepper, Rockapella, People magazine, freecell on the computer, sarcasm.
Catchphrases: "Your mom!" "Dude." "Mother in law!" "I doubt it." "Gabie passed a nickel!" "I believe the word you're looking for is... anyway..."
I just recently started going through all the books I have boxed up in the basement and realized I have a lot of novel-type books. Many of them I had to read in college, and some I either had to read or wanted to read in high school. And I missed these books. Yes, that's right, I missed the books. Some of you may understand. Books are my friends. I enjoy reading them, writing in them, dog-earing the pages, shelving and alphebetizing them, and re-reading them when the time comes. None of which I can do when the books are in a box in the basement. I had asked Jarrod at one point if he would build me a bookcase, to which he said that he needed wood. So no bookcase yet. But I brought some of the books up anyway and put them in a crate that was in the basement. I don't know when (or if) I will re-read any of them, but I am so happy to have them back!
Right now I am reading another book that I have borrowed from Tim, something by Chuck Klosterman (I think that's his name). I have no idea what the title is. But it's all about his interviews with famous people, most or all of them in the music industry. It's interesting enough. But I think the next one I borrow will consciously be something very different. OOH! Or maybe when I am done with it I can get to the library and see if they have that Ladies' Detective Agency series. With my luck, they won't have the first one. It's certainly worth a try. I love book recommendations.
Note: Please kindly forgive any grammatical or typographical errors... I would feel like an idiot if I knew that I had made a bunch after what I've written here.

An Oldie but a Goodie

This was originally written for a senior writing class about four years ago.


The Day My Mother Met Jesus

He was sitting by the side of the road on a landscaping rock in front of the A & W. He had stopped for just a moment, on a walk with his bike, to tie his shoe. Or maybe it was to pick up a quarter or a plastic bag. You never know when you might need a plastic bag. You never know when it might rain when you’re out on your bike, too far away from the awning of a friendly merchant. There are friendly merchants-- the ones who give away the leftover baked goods that haven’t spoiled yet and let you use their restrooms-- and unfriendly merchants-- the ones who yell at you for looking through their trash for aluminum and for standing under their awnings when it rains. Today, however, there was no rain. Just the opposite, as a matter of fact.
On one of the hottest days, even for late August, my mother was driving home from her job at the downtown bank in her 1980 Impala. The air conditioning hadn’t worked since about 1981, so she had four windows down and was loving the feel of the breeze created by 35 miles an hour as it played through her freshly-dyed blond hair. She was feeling exceptionally youthful, so she thought she’d stop to get a can of soda to help her really embrace that feeling. She pulled into the parking lot of a barbershop where there was an outdoor Pepsi machine.
She pulled the starchy, once-folded dollar out of her wallet and fed it into the machine. After careful consideration, she selected Diet Pepsi (she was feeling young but not young enough for the “hard stuff”), and bent over to retrieve it and her change, slipping the two quarters into her purse. As she stood up, my mother glimpsed him out of the corner of her eye: a man of about her height, wearing dusty blue pants, cut off at the bottom, and a long-sleeved, button-down blue shirt with the name Ed sewn onto an oval patch above the left pocket. His hair was long, gray, and knotted, and he had the beginnings of a salt-and-pepper beard on his chin. Next to him, leaning against the rock he sat on, was a rusting red two-speed with a kickstand that hadn’t worked when he found it a year ago. My mother took in a deep breath before approaching him.
It was only a matter of eight or nine paces away, and when she got there, she held out the can with a cautious smile. At this distance she could see him much better. His blue, almost turquoise eyes glistened at the offer, as his whole face broke into a smile, showing the crow’s feet that had seen more cause for tears than for joy.
“A Diet Pepsi, ma’am,” he said, looking her in the eye as he took the can with both wind-torn hands. “Thank you.” My mother lowered her head as she turned from him and walked back to the Impala. Before she reached the driver’s side door, she heard that gasp that every can makes as it is opened. And without the can in her hand she still felt that gasp, while the man behind her raised the red, white, and blue aluminum to his lips.

I never thought I would...

...gamble in Vegas.
...have a C-section.
...work at McDonald's.
...sleep in a parking lot.
...like to watch Stargate.
...fly on a plane.
...swim in the ocean.
...roof.
...use the Latin I learned in high school.
...spend the night in the woods (without a tent or a sleeping bag!)
...(unknowingly or otherwise) write a bad check.
...stop wearing my retainer at night.
...major in English.
...weigh 166 lbs.
...be somebody's boss.
...marry someone with a mustache.

I miss...

...sleeping in.
...eating out.
...the Jen club.
...sundaes with peanut butter, hot fudge, and whipped topping, no matter how much extra it costs.
...wearing flip flops.
...dreaming in Shakespearean.
...pink pig slippers.
...getting kicked from the inside.
...going to the grocery store dairy section to cool off.
...being in charge.
...going to Spanish class in pajamas, then coming back to the apartment and sleeping until lunch.
...What Not to Wear, Mythbusters, Friends repeats whenever I want... basically anything in reruns if the time is right.
...an ethernet connection.
...singin in harmony.
...worship at the Conway Boatman Chapel.
...Spanish-only days.
...pinwheels, step-2's, and to-the-rears.
...writing in Russian.
...speaking in op-talk.
...eating cheese curls off the floor.
...cartwheels on the driveway.
...squirt guns.
...Peanut, Smokey, and Gabe.
...doing calculus homework in last period study hall.
..."If the ocean were whiskey and I were a duck..."
...four-way IMs from four different states.
...chicken and dumplins.
...footless tights and neon socks.
...crimped hair and poofy bangs.
...mountain dew and milky ways.