Extraordinary?

Idealists always fall--with quite a similar stricken cry as the visionary when their eyes get plucked out.

But that's okay.

We have an above-ground pool at my house that came with the purchase of the residence those years ago. When I was a young and impetuous child, I assumed that I would love to have a pool, and to avoid my readers writing me off as a bratty, overfed, underworked, conceited American, I admit that 80.5 % does love that pool. But consider for me what happened to an enchanted princess in an enchanted land one enchanted yesterday...

Our pool contains a removable set of plastic steps; hollow so that they can hold two sand bags about as heavy as sin. I imagine that sin is also covered with an inch of algae, so that's something else they have in common. Every autumn, these steps and the sand bags attract leaves and algae, according to the laws of the universe that state that nothing enjoyable will ever come easy, and accumulate about an even inch of scum on every square millimeter of its surface. Even when the pool is covered I can guarantee that the steps will be unrecognizable by the time April comes around.

It is therefore the task of we, the pool owners, to extract the steps from the pool. This may strike you as relatively simple, and it probably should be, but certain authority figures over me determined that it would be better to keep the 70-pound sand bags in their place (to keep them from feeling any nervousness or discomfort, of course.)

Yesterday afternoon I set my determination upon cleaning these steps, since I am the right size to climb inside the steps and have acquired the proper agility and disregard for my health to do so. I was armed with nothing more than a scrub brush and a real bad attitude, which science has proven scares the pants off most microscopic animals. In an effort to dress appropriate to my task, I was wearing a fashionable pink sundress.

I worked on the outside of the steps for about an hour and found that a maniacal sawing motion yielded the greatest results. As I set about scrubbing the inner portions of the plastic, I avoided thinking about many things, such as how accurately I was beginning to resemble a child's rendering of a dinosaur (that is, pink with green polka dots. Lots of green polka dots.)

I also avoided thinking about the illustrations of bacteria I had seen in Biology 207, which at that moment were most likely having a nice tea and chat underneath my fingernails.

Similarly, it never crossed my mind that the thing alternatively smelled like a river and an outhouse.

I was rewarded in the end by seeing the textured white underneath begin to shine through. And I don't think I've ever been more grateful for a shower.

I can do anything good! Better than anyone!

Check out this great MSN Video: Little girl gives herself a pep talk

Momma Rocks

When I was about four or five years old, I was sitting with my parents and brother in a Baptist church which we attended regularly. It was Mother's Day, and the pastor of the church asked all of the mothers to stand up. I looked over the crowd curiously and observed the number of women on their feet, and felt suddenly as though I was being excluded from something very special.

So, my logical reflection culminated something like this--"I am a mommy to my stuffies" (translation: stuffed animals) "therefore I am a mother."

With poignant sentiment and nobility, I stood up beside my mom hoping no authority figures would particularly notice. Everything was going just splendidly when I felt my dad's hand on my shoulder and heard the gentle rebuke: "Emily, sit down."

I sank back down into the pew as appreciation, recognition and small gifts descended on the mothers around me, feeling, to my surprise, justly disciplined. I fended off a feeling of embarrassment with the sudden overwhelming assurance that what was taking place was good and acceptable.

The point? There are many imitators and some alternatives, but nothing can compare to the fierce love and friendship of a mom.

I love you, Mom!

"Meaningless! Meaningless! Everything is meaningless..."

I have a Twitter account and watch the news sometimes, so I consider myself moderately up-to-date on what is captivating and beguiling my fickle generation. The teenage girl who regards her iPad with greater zeal than the man in the pulpit, the self-absorbed kindergartener that colors during praise and worship, and the baby that will be encouraged their entire life to "see the world and make their own decision about religion" are the men and women who will be running the country and ultimately deciding the spiritual atmosphere of our nation.

For those of you who felt a swell of indignation towards these inattentive little devils, here's my question: can you blame them?

Church is flipping boring!

God is incredibly exciting.

We have given our kids two options...be bored with religion or give yourself to the shifting, vaporous, but brightly colored(!) secular world.

Here's my second question: did Jesse McCartney die or is he just not Justin Bieber? Did Rick Springfield fall into a wood chipper or is he just not Jesse McCartney? (Come to think of it, he was into Jessie's Girl. That will be very funny for a few elite.)

The more I think about it, the more I want dip my head in a vat of boiling acid. Listen to me, you people on the earth: you want--you need--to feel something. The Church has betrayed you so deeply for not offering you what would truly unlock your heart.

So what's going to set off the spark in your soul? God. The real God who doesn't care much about what chair, church, body, or country you're in, but cares alot about what you give your attention to.

Inspiration for your day

Without question, the most meaningful painting of all time.

















(My deepest apologies to art lovers)

Things they didn't tell me about braces

Yes--I have a lovely overbite and a mouth full of metal to compensate. Dentists and hygienists are the sweetest, most precious, awful, frustrating little people I've ever had the pleasure of sitting still beside as they shoved their gloved hands into my mouth. It's a great way to meet new people. I think the best part is when the dentist begins to tell the hygienist about his weird voicemails that week as, he highly unawares, the edge of the tiny mirror in his hand begins a slow journey to the bones in my gums.

What's even better is when my jaw is dislocating from opening my mouth so wide, and the hygienist asks me a question about my family or tells me a funny joke. I then request for them to remove my lower jaw and set it aside for later.

Considering braces? Here's what you need to know:

1. Can't fit your teeth together? Have to fend off starvation with mashed potatoes and tomato soup? That's perfectly normal! And...you'll lose weight!

2. Those little white sores in your mouth that burn like a kiss from the dark side? They're called canker sores. Use your provided wax.

3. You will want to refrain from engaging in sports that engage your face, including horseplay. Someone could unwittingly get the inside of your cheeks caught on the precarious wires sticking out of your brackets, etc. This is also perfectly normal and again calls for wax.

As you can obviously tell, I am perfectly enchanted with my braces.