on heavenly thievery

I've been trying to follow alongside my sister-in-law's Month of Gratitude and clearly I've been doing a fantastic job, as I'm doing my first post on the seventh of November.

Today's prompt is to name a song that makes me grateful whenever I hear it. I'm supposed to dance around to it, but little E did that for me. Upon walking into my room while I was playing it, she said, "Well this is sweet," donned her ballerina face (she has one), and plied (past tense of plie? What is it!? I can't find it) to her heart's content.

In lieu of uncoordinated bodily movements, known as dancing to me, or seizing to the rest of the world, I'll just play it over and over until my ears bleed, such as is the way with me.


Take a listen or two hundred alongside me.


This was the song that Mr. B and I danced to as newlyweds at our wedding reception. It's based off of the Song of Songs (Song of Solomon for those who don't use Douay-Rheims) written by Solomon.

Song of Songs 8:6: Put me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thy arm, for love is strong as death, jealousy as hard as hell, the lamps thereof are fire and flames. 

Newlyweds experiencing the flame of love or heat of Houston in June. I've heard it both ways. 

The entire book of Song of Songs parallels the courtship, wedding, and marriage of a young man and woman. Unless you're trying to not understand what Solomon was doing, it's easy to see that the parallels extend to God and His people (updated circa 33AD to Christ and His Church).

I forget about this song a lot, to be honest. I get too caught up in the sounds of children, and homemaking, and silence - blessed, blessed silence - and forget my youngin' years of loving music. But when I remember this song, watch out YouTube, your video view count is about to hit the thousands.

During particularly difficult times, this song immediately calms me. It reminds me of two things: 

Uno. I have the love of a Godly man. I have a husband who gets up with kids at night so I can rest and find health again. He then gets up before dawn to go to a job that he loves, but doesn't pay him and probably doesn't appreciate him, just so that he can find a job that will support us. I have a husband who, without fail, dies to himself daily to make us more comfortable. I have a husband who prays a multiple Rosaries daily, offering the merits for everyone but himself. He isn't recognized for most of what he does, because he does it quietly and behind closed doors, like he's supposed to; there are sacrifices he makes that I'm sure I don't even know about. He staunchly and charitably defends our precious Faith to those who don't believe, while living a life that brings those who do believe closer to Our Lord. I have a husband who, even in the heat of an argument or panic attack, makes me laugh. He composes songs and stories that no one ever hears, but he doesn't waste the talent give him from above. He plays with our girls, reads with them, cuddles with them, and loves their mother. He prays, he loves, he plays, he stands strong and faithful, and I'm grateful that he chose me.

My humble, loving husband, circa 1992. He's sans the hair curl now. And for that I am also grateful.

And to top it off, we have sacramental marriage, though which Our Lord literally pours graces into our souls if we just let Him. 

Dos. Solomon may be hailed as the wisest king ever to have lived, but homeboy got something wrong - we haven't stolen Our Bridegroom's Heart. He's freely given it to us and so desperately wants to shower gifts and blessings and love upon us. 

There are times that my faith is weak. Not Faith - that's firmly rooted - but my heart loses it's focus on that God loves me more than I can understand and will provide. Just as I don't hand sweets to my girls whenever they ask - because even I'm not that dense - He can't hand me all I ask for, right away, at least. The bride in the Song lost her bridegroom for a while, and just kept searching through the night until she found Him. Our Lord knows we won't always stay right by His side, though He wants us to, but He does want us to persevere in finding Him. 

There are three parts to spiritual life - consolation, desolation, and perfect unity. During consolation, we feel the good feelings of being a Christian. The warm fuzz helps us seek out Truth and delve deeper into the Faith. But eventually, our most wise God desires us to want Him and not His consolations, so He puts us through times of desolation. This is when I need to remember to continue to search Him out. He's there, somewhere, waiting for me in the darkness and just wants to know I choose Him and not the blessings He heaps upon me. 

Let's skip the snarky caption here, eh?

This song reminds me to keep my lantern lit in search of Him during those dark nights of the soul when my mind knows Our Lord is somewhere, just out of reach, but my heart doesn't feel it. 

So, on this dreary, rainy seventh day of November, I'm grateful for that reminder. And you're probably thankful that this novel is ending. And it is. Now. The end.

one of these is not like the others

Halloween, or All Hallow's Eve as we're trying to remember to say in our forgetful family, was last night. We braved the scary night at oh-5:30pm when the sun was still bright in the sky and we surprised still-dinnering families with a lively "Happy Halloween!" They gave us extra candy to get us off their doorsteps and we gave them practice for the evening so all-in-all, it was a good run. We were home and the kids were sugared up by the time the sun set and the creepers came out for the night.

Behold, on this Feast of All Saints, our Heavenly interns:

St. Joan of Arc and her trusty sidekick, oft forgotten by historians: Sparkle

St. Ewisabef is Hungry, commonly called St. Elizabeth of Hungary by ignorant masses

Every saintly queen needs a saintly knight only slightly larger than herself to stay safe.

If you look closely, you'll notice my scarf is sporting birds. Therefore, I dressed up as a Bird Lady, or St. Francis of Assisi's sister who is lesser known, but also had a strong devotion to God's small creatures. We'll call her...Frances of Assisi.

St. Elizabeth in search of a hungry soul to feed, namely herself; namely, with candy.

A lawyer, St. Joan, St. Elizabeth, Bird Lady - ten million fictional points to the person that guesses who isn't dressed up. 

Ding ding ding! You win nothing! Mr. B isn't dressed up. We found out, after we checked and rechecked (times 1 million times infinity) the Texas Bar website, that Mr. B passed his Bar Exam and is officially an attorney. All thanks and praise be to Our Lord and Our Lady who got us through a very tough time and gave Mr. B the grace to pass!

Mr B is due a whole lot of praise for his hard-work, dedication, long days, long evenings, and copious amounts of studying. He remained true to the Faith, loyal and loving to his family, and faithful to morals and Truth. We're so very proud of him. I know I couldn't have gone through this journey with anyone else by my side.

The three c's of motherhood (coffee, chocolate, and cocktails) deserve a shout-out, too, for helping me out with the kids while he was gone so much. Holla. 

Now - to hit up Heaven one more time for just oooone more simple dimple request of a job soon, like yesterday. Thankyouverymuch and we'll pray for your intentions in our Rosaries, as well.

Happy All Saints'! I'd post pictures of what we do, but there would only be snapshots of empty candy wrappers, slumbering faces, and staring off into space enjoying the lack of costume-making hovering in the near future. And I can't take pictures of my cute kids while looking like that. 

Seven Stolen Quick Takes

I've stunk at this blogging gig over the last couple of weeks. St. Teresa of Avila once wrote:

“How is it God, that You have given me this hectic busy life when I have so little time to enjoy Your presence? Throughout the day, people are waiting to speak with me, and even at meals, I have to continue talking to people about their needs and problems. During sleep itself I am still thinking and dreaming about the multitude of concerns that surround me. I do all this not for my own sake, but for Yours. I only hope that for You it is truly a sacrifice of love. I know that You are constantly beside me, yet I am usually so  busy that I ignore You. If you want me to remain so busy, please force me to think about and love You even in the midst of such hectic activity. If You do not want me so busy, please release me from it, showing other how they can take over my responsibilities.” 

I feel like that's my life right now (minus the whole being a saint because, try as I may, fail as I may just as much), and if I don't have time for sharing a cuppa with The Creator of the Universe, I sure don't have time for blogging.

Since I don't want to bungee off the blogosphere cliff too terribly far, I thought I'd do the quickest Quick Takes ever - meaning, someone else did all the work and I pulled a break and entry and stole their work.

1. Adorable, creative, cultural. Keep naming things I am not. But bookmarking for a future homeschool project because if there's anything I can do, it's steal other peoples' educational ideas. 

*

2. Let's ruffle some feathers here:

• Uno.
• Dos.

Thoughts? I think we all know where I stand. In the kitchen. Barefoot. Wishing I were pregnant.

*

3. The case against Johnny Football and the claim that, "he's just a kid." Wreck 'em. 

*

4. Sob. Sniffle. Hug kids. A beautiful reminder during a trying time for my comforts that are being chipped away by solo parenting.

*

5. For those that don't know (read: all), I'm a history addict. Fascinating. True? No idea, but I think it's neat and plan to research it more.

*

6. Love. I hope to one day be as hospitable as some I know. For now, I still inch stray laundry and toys out of sight with my toe and feebly apologize that we're still waiting on the rice to cook and offer stale chips with no salsa. Just ask anyone who's been to my inhospitable abode.

*

7. Wreck 'em. I was out of links, so this will do.

*

8. I remembered what I was going to put for the last quick take, but I love The King, so I'm just adding another. My current history research project is about the Hatfields and McCoys because I'm a year late to the game and just discovered the show. Not the most moral of shows, so I didn't finish it, but the real stories fascinate me. Any good, unbias websites about them?

on things that go hiss in the night

Here in the House of B, we're big believers in the preternatural. We're fully aware that spiritual warfare is real, present, and dangerous.

We pull no punches in this realm, or in any, really (I'd apologize to folks who read this who get annoyed with us in real life, but that's a pulled punch). 

If we're told by someone of proper authority that something is dangerous to our souls and invites demons to come on by and hang out, that thing is out of our lives. Questions asked and research done after we've rid our lives of it, and we've always found that the spiritual director (surprise, surprise) has our eternal souls' best interest in mind and they weren't just bored and needed a laugh.

So, short end of the not so short novel is that we take this stuff seriously.

My life.

We live in a land flowing with blessed water and salt.

All this is said to confirm your suspicions that I may need some help and to introduce a story.

I have a friend who is kind of new to the idea of spiritual warfare. She's listened to a sermon or two and read some articles on the topic and is growing increasingly aware of just how prevalent demonic attacks are. 

So she texts me and tells me that there is a hissing in her house. 

She's getting ready for the day and hears a voice-like hiss. Of course she whips around, hoping her children were talking to her. Nothing. She's imagined it. Until she hears it again. 

This time, she yells to her kids to ask if they were talking to her. They answer no. She hesitantly goes back to her business. And hears it again.

This time she grabs the kids and the holy water and hightails it for the door. I applaud her for waiting until the third time because I would have magically remembered a long-forgotten errand on the first hiss.

Preach it, sister.

Remember when I said I'm paranoid and scared of my own shadow? It's true. I still am. And apparently I'm also scared of other peoples' shadows because I've been thinking of The Hiss all day.

Fast forward to this evening. I go for a run - society's word for running and my word for belabored breathing and walking. And of course, when I get back my lovely dripping-wet self just wants to melt into a puddle of lukewarm shower water. As I'm getting ready for the shower - I hear a hiss.  Naturally I start giggling.

***It should be noted here that I'm awkward. Really super awkward. And when I'm uncomfortable, I laugh. A silent, unending laugh that I just can't control. If you're telling me something heartfelt and raw and emotional, please don't take offense that I'm smiling and quietly laughing. I really am empathetic to your emotions, I'm just awkward.***

In my quick-few-second thoughts, I think that it's my mom playing a joke on me because of The Hiss earlier in the day. I continue getting ready for my shower and quietly giggling because what if it's not my mom. And I hear it again.

Now I'm throwing on my clothes because demons can't attack a clothed person (it's a lie I told myself to calm the giggle. Didn't work.). I open the door and there's nothing there and I think surely I imagined it as I've never ever been known to do.

I shut the door and just stand there - enjoying the playback of my life flashing before my eyes. And I hear it again.

I jerk the door open quickly, so as to sprint the ten feet to the nearest holy water bottle (lie #2 - demons can't catching a sprinting woman carrying holy water) and what do I trip over?

At least I was alone this time.

A cat. A flipping cat hissing at another flipping cat.


The end. Tell me I'm not the only one something this ridiculous has happened to?

a review of a mistake in life lately

I got a little behind on Blogtember, if the definition of little is the same as a lot.

This week, I was supposed to do a life lately, a review, and tell the story of a mistake I made.

There are few things better that you can do for a person than editing your words down by 50% (says the novelist emailer), so that's I'll do what I can to be charitable.

(Edited to add upon finishing this two days after starting - this isn't short. At all.)

Let's do this thang.

A patter-in.

We've been educating the youngins. Some lessons are more formal than others. We get fancy up in our house when we change into real clothes before we start school for the day.

A lesson in letting mommy sleep while you occupy yourself.

Behold the face of home education.

We've gone on enrichment field trips.

Uncle 1st Lt. explaining the habits of monkeys to eager young minds.

Some are more enriching than others.

At the HEB imitating the monkeys. Or something like that.

We saw off Uncle and Aunt 1st Lt. as they moseyed along across the South to another base. This is the first big move for our family so we had a bit of a problem letting them go.

We're not above tears or hysteria.

Autumn has come and the Sisters B and their mama wore the appropriate colors to Holy Mass to celebrate. Faces are true to emotions felt over the arrival of our long-lost lower temps.

Applaud my photography skills.

And with fall comes a couple of special days where imagination reigns, children delight, and The Guild of Uncrafty Mothers have immeasurable ways to earn their way into Heaven.

Breaking the Guild rules and preparing costumes more than two days in advance. A sneak peek at a couple of saints.
Any guesses?

In the midst of all this busyness, I've made a pretty glaring error. A big one. One brought to my attention as I was fulfilling my vocation by researching and planning and re-researching and shifting around education plans.

M was swinging on the end of the bed, chattering away while I half-heartedly answered every once in a while. I had no idea what she was saying. I was busy! I'm doing important work! I'm creating an imaginative, holy, classical environment so I can produce the future saints of the Church, child! 

"When I grow up, I'm going to have time to play with my kids."

Screeeeeeech.

Now, lately, M has been enamored with her mama. Anything I do, she wants to do. Anything I wear, she loves and copies. Phrases I use, food I eat, books I read - anything and everything, she wants to be her mama. I love it and it inspires me to be a better, more intentional person.

So when the phrase, "when I grow up..." isn't ended with, "I want to be a mommy as devoted to her offspring as you," it made me want to cry.

"Do you think Mommy doesn't have time to play with you?" I inquired of the brutally honest five-year old.

"Well, sometimes you do and sometimes you don't. And that's okay," my soft-hearted, terrified-of-confrontation-like-her-mama-is girl answered, just as I would have in the same situation.

I messed up big time. 

In all my attempts to be a loving mother and pintrest-worthy educator, I'd forgotten the importance and joy of just playing with my little ones. I'll cut myself enough slack to acknowledge we're in a very transitional period, I'm solo-parenting most of the week, I'm new to this home education gig, and I'm tired. 

But that's no excuse. I look so forward to the moment when their little eyes fall shut at night that I plow through, getting all I have to get done, done - and not enjoying and growing in the moment. God's given me the opportunity to grow in love and holiness with what He's put in front of me and I just duck my head and plow through without earning graces or building upon the love my girls have for me.

Life skills lesson #4 - how to gracefully ignore bodily fluids being flung all over your hands. I'm training up a future mother here.

What's even worse is that lately, I've gotten a little misty-eyed at how big my little girls are getting. I love every part of the ages we're in - the cuddle time each afternoon as we read for hours during the hottest part of the day; the wanting to be just like mama; the hugs and little whispers of, "I'm so glad we're best friends, Mommy."; the innocence of playing animals and little people and calico critters. Every single thing about this age is a newfound joy and there is no one else in the world they'd rather discover it with than their sister, the mama, and their daddy. 

As I've gone through pictures of the past five years with our girls, it's made me realize how fleeting this is and how quickly we're approaching the ages where things aren't quite as simple and care-free. If God doesn't bless us with another wee one, these days are quickly fading forever. At the very least, they are with these two beautiful girls. And I'm done making the mistake of the duck and run to bedtime.

The Never-Ending Story Of Ponies and Princesses.

I can't claim to having changed overnight, but I've certainly gotten better at just being silly with my little ones.

And this is where the review part comes in:

This home education thing. 

It's hard. Really, really hard. Especially if you're not in your own space, shipped your books to the wrong address, your materials are across the state, you don't have an income, and you have no idea what you're doing. Hypothetically, of course.

I will sing the praises of home education all day long to you. I will ride high upon my gigantic horse and with him, step upon a box of soap. I feel strongly that not only is every family capable of doing it, every family can be called to it. 

I once listened to a talk where the priest discussed the real importance and reason of homeschooling. Especially at our girls' young ages, educating at home is far less about academics, and far more about instilling a love of learning and a rock-solid foundation of virtue. 

These years are fleeting (see: above) and my review on the last month of homeschooling is that I need to realize that. I need to be okay with tossing aside my meticulously planned academic week and packing a picnic lunch and playing in nature for a day. We always, always get everything done and I think our girls have and can hold their own against the education philosophies of other schooling options.

What I'm teaching them is to overcome selfishness and impatience. There are few people on this earth with less patience than me. I am constantly battling it and often lose - more often that not (holla at my confessor). When that happens every 7.9 minutes, I tell them that I, too, make bad choices and I'm sorry for how I acted, do they forgive me, and we start again. I'm praying that, through our home education, they learn, above all, to die to one's self - to serve others, most especially when you don't want to.

St. Therese's Homeschool of Hard Knocks or The Little Way. I've heard it both ways.

And because of that, we trudge on, learning and growing and failing and growing some more. I'd say that earns an A+.

comfortable

Today's Blogtember: Friday, September 20: React to this term: comfort.


I'm not above admitting that my favorite place in my entire house is my bed while I'm sleeping soundly, uninterrupted by the sounds of children needing their basic needs met (gah, what next? a learjet?) with white noise blocking out any sounds of traffic or imagined burglers breaking into our house to kill us; preferable, but not necessary, is the presence of those needy children's quiet, precious, sleeping selves next to me, sandwiched between me and my quiet, loving, non-snoring husband - all of us warm and cozy under a fluffy freshly laundered (hence the well-deserved nap - pat, pat, back) blanket, warming us from the 40 degree weather that our super-efficient a/c is blowing out. 

I'm really low-maintenence, obv.

Motherhood is hard, but the view is great.

Now that, y'all, is comfortable. 

And sometimes it's what gets me through the day. When the thought of that doesn't, I go to my [over-use-but-fittingly-named] happy place. 

My soul is quieted when I'm struggling and I mentally place myself in a darkened chapel in front of a monstrance holding The Blessed Sacrament. If the moment permits, I'll quickly put my frustrations at His Feet (why, oh, why, do my children constantly need meals and dirty their clothes upon eating said food? is a big one. #firstworldproblems); if the moment doesn't allow, I just quiet myself for a few seconds and focus on Our Lord in The Blessed Sacrament. 

Even now, the sound of Gregorian Chant immeeeeediately calms me and puts my mind in the presence of Our Lord. I have an affinity for darkened churches (filled with people and altar servers and a priest because I'm not going to lie, an empty darkened church quickens my steps and makes my the grand champion of quick genuflecting) because of my love of Midnight Mass early Christmas morning, or Easter Vigil Mass, or even the different schedule of a celebrating a Holy Day of Obligation with attending an evening Mass. 

 It's a stretch, but it counts, y'all. h/t Kristin, again!

It stems from my childhood and still brings me immediate peace (a little less quiet peace as we're now toting two little souls into said very late Masses, but hey, there are many different ways to grow in holiness.).  When I hear Gregorian Chant, my soul is calmed and I can remember the smell of incense and the ringing of bells, especially the progression of bells during the Gloria on Easter Vigil. 

Needy children before Easter Vigil this year.

Christmas Evening Mass post-veil hair.

Those thoughts (they're really super quick whenever they happen) quiet down into the gentle comfort of one-on-one time with Our Lord in The Blessed Sacrament. And even though most of the time neither of us say anything, I see Him and He sees me and that's enough to comfort my soul.

7QT, Clicking Around

1. What. The. Heck. Add that to my list of things I didn't know I was terrified of.

2. What. The. Heck. Just, gross.

3. I feel better about myself already. For simply surviving the day.

4. Come out of your rocky dwelling if you haven't seen this.  It'll make you cry. And empty your wallet. You're forewarned.

5. This is how I am, except to the sound of nocturnal children crying rather than Asian pop. The sister's reaction is even better than the baby's, I think!

6. This gal and her husband are moving to Georgia in four days. We'll miss them, but we're glad they kept our kids occupied for a few minutes until they flee the Texas heat into the Georgian humidity.

7. On a serious note: thoughts from public schoolers/homeschoolers on this? In my small experience on the subject, it's spot on, but I'd like a fair response on the subject before I use it as a resource.


And that's all this homeschooing, wife-of-a-hard-working-out-of-town-husband has time for. Unless the kids get sucked into Libra-life-saver Beatrix Potter, in which case, I'll be back with Blogtember.


Godspeed into the weekend.

not ringing a bell

Day 11 of Blogtember is simply a memory you'd love to relive.

Unfortunately for you - perhaps luckily? - I don't have a great memory for moments. I focus so much on the present and on the future that my memories quickly fade. I often blame it on mamacita-brain or hormones, but in reality, I remember thinking as a child that I couldn't remember things vividly beyond the grade I was in the year before.

That being said - just real quick, I have to bring myself to fame in the realm of remembering people and their stories. There isn't a face in entertainment that I can't place, a voice I can't pinpoint to a show we watched ten years ago, or a backstory that I can't give you (slightly inaccurate but desperately attempted) details about.  I have some serious talent and if ever a gameshow named "The Face" airs on CBS, I'm your winner winner chicken dinner. Also, song lyrics. I will crush you. Also, events. I'm usually right.

BUT, when it comes to things like memories of things I've lived, I bow gracefully out of the competition. 

I remember M's birth pretty well until I don't remember anything because I've passed out from pain and blood loss and the whole shebang. E's birth is remembered fondly, down to the smallest of details. My meeting Mr. B and our love story is etched into my forever lobe. **Those are pretty much the big guns of my life which is why I reference them every 2.4 sentences.**

I would love to relive those memories, tweaking a few things - like near-death-experiences - a wee bit. Above all, though, I think I'd like to relive our wedding because I don't remember much of it.

I remember waking up what I thought was early (6am ain't nothing for a mama anymore) and went with my dad to get pancakes the morning the first of his daughters got married. I have fond memories of that, except I have no memories of what actually happened (six am? Y'all.). I just remember being....fond of it.

(All photos are ripped off of Facebook because our wedding photo cd is packed away! Thanks to all who posted them because six and a half years later, I need them!)

I'm fond.

I remember our precious flower girls getting ready and my sister getting into town and giving me the Rosary that I carried down the aisle. I remember taking goofy photos with my other sister and laughing about who knows what because we laugh at everything. I remember my best friend playing interference for any problems that arose.

I remember desperately trying to not hurt anyone's feelings and hearing through the infamous and deadly vine of the grape that we had inadvertently and unintentionally hurt everyone's feelings. Whoops and failure. And I think I'll skip reliving all of that.

Promise, we meant well. And I will have a large forehead forever and ever, amen.

I remember standing at the back of the church before walking down the aisle and seeing Mr. B standing in the front. 

Back of the church, post-nuptials. Thanks, Kristin!

I vaguely remember the vows that bind us together until death.

Photographic proof we didn't imagine this covenant. Courtesy of  Kristen Bednarz's amazing skills!

More proof that we were not photogenic on our wedding day. Or ever.

I remember the altar boys putting two kneelers together after we had taken our vows and leaving a few inches in between then and our priest whispering loud enough for us to hear: "Put them closer together - they're married now for goodness' sake." 

And then I remember snippets from our reception, mostly that it was freezing so a kindly soul turned down the A/C and then it was super ridiculously hot (hello, Houston in summer time). 

The [literally] hot couple.

Fading faster than a Marty McFly photo.

I remember leaving the reception and calling our dear [shocked and incredulous] friend as we pulled a u-turn because I realized I had left my purse that held all identification that would allow me to jump on a plane to Puerto Rico the next day.

Said shocked friend.

And I remember going to Chile's to get wings and queso afterwards.

Even though that seems like a lot, there are a whole lot of gaps that are blurred out and I'd love to remember marrying the love of my life. 

Thankfully love never fades.

seven quick takes in blogtember

1. This has been a good blogging week, as in, I've blogged this week. Going out with a bang.


2. We started homeschooling this week and we're off to a good start. Minus that our textbooks are currently in the UK. But hey, who needs book learning when you have the great outdoors that we never venture out into because holy hot weather, Batman.


3. I took a fun Catholic IQ Test last night and scored a 183. Apparently I don't know the difference between a missal and a sacramentary (for the record - the sacramentary looked a whole lot like a Latin Mass MISSAL, but whatevs); I'm inept in the realm of heresies; and I don't know where the Pope lives (I call misclick on that one). In good news, I won a free prize for knowing the basics of The Faith, so stop on by and treat yo'self.


4. The only part of college football that I really enjoy is the part dealing with fashion and food, but I have a few things to say about it this year:

4a. When did Thursday night games begin? It's throwing my weekend attire plans right out window into the sweltering Texas heat to shrivel away and die.

4b.

Fight Raiders fight, 

Fight Raiders fight, 

Fight for the school we love so dearly.

We'll hit 'em high 

We'll hit 'em low 

Push that ball across the goal, 

TECH, FIGHT, FIGHT! 

We'll praise her name 

Boost her to fame 

Fight for the Scarlet and the Black 

We will hit 'em, we will wreck 'em 

Hit 'em, wreck 'em Texas Tech 

And the victory bells will ring out. 

Confusion sets in here:

Ew.

To The King: You're handsome, seemingly talented, and have brought excitement back to Lubbock game days, but you cannot choose uniforms wisely. Leave that to the women-folk, please, because gross.

5. Have any of y'all seen this? Someone has been attributing Adolf Hitler quotes to Taylor Swift. I really shouldn't think it's funny, but the psych minor in me thinks it's a fun group-thinking experiment and a testament to how sad the culture of idolization is. The me part of me just thinks it's funny. 

Any joke here feels inappropriate.

6. This book. For the literary-inclined folks, it's a decent read, though I think the author is a newbie writer. For the Catholics, it's a fun introduction to a little-known saint. 

7. For the Blogtember link-up, I'm supposed to take a self-picture. 

Y'all. My arms are short. My fingers are stubby. And my hand muscles have wasted away due to child birth (not really, obv, but it's a sure thing when you're talking about weakness of any sort. Blame it on the children.). It's blurry, my smile has faded into consternation, and I may never recover from the physical trauma. How do people take so many of these things? PS. I don't have a Harvard-educated phone. I straight-up guessed if I was on camera. Cue applause...now.

This is the best I can do. And I'm not going to lie; I probably took about fifteen of these things. I don't know why I didn't duck face it and call it a night, but I just couldn't. 

In good news, you caught me on a game day (Thursday night? What the?). Get your guns up and wreck 'em.

The face of a silent sufferer, praying that this one worked.

That'll do, pig. That'll do.

all about meme

Thursday, September 12: Discuss ways that blogging or social media has changed you.


I feel like I should have a deep story about a becoming a better person, but really, social media has made me dislike technology, while being addicted to it (I just can't quit you, Facebook, even though I want to!).

But really, it's affected my thinking the most. 

It hasn't made me more analytical or direct in argumentation (see: Mr. B's facebook arguments with law school cohorts at any point in time) - instead the thought of an argument out in a public forum makes me seven kinds of nauseous. 

I've not become more interested in people's lives. I've always been nosy (in a good way, not pulling a Mrs. Kravitz here) about the five dubs and solo h on people's lives (who! what! why? where! when! how!). Give me a backstory and I'll give you both ears.

It's not kept me up with the news that I avoid so I'm not up at 3am worrying; it's not helped me keep in touch with people, because liking a status doesn't count (self, did you hear that?); it's certainly not helped me grow spiritually, most of the time.

It has, however, taught me to think in meme form.

I've always wanted to use one of her memes.

The Meme has a hold over me. I think they're hilarious. I really laugh out loud almost every time Willy Wonka crosses my screen.

The Double Dubya is brilliant.

The Most Interesting Man In The World Is pretty great, too.

Me.

I love the ecard ones and even maybe possibly bought a good number of items from their product line in the Target dollar section, but only a few dozen dollars worth, so not many.

She had me at Target.

You're stuck with me.

Behold: how my loved ones feel. Also, I ugly laughed at this one.

We're big proponents of modesty here at Story of our Souls.

I shouldn't laugh. But I did. So hard.

Another set I laugh uproariously out loud over are the ones of the one, holy, Catholic, and apostolic variety.

Been saying it for years.

It's true, he does.

Boom. Roasted.

It all makes sense now.

St. Pius X, the original hipster.

I could go on and on, but I'll stop because otherwise, I'd be

Me 2.0

Wise words.

Thank you, facebook and blogging, for introducing Memes to me.