Dennis Quaid Is Here

When you read these words, I will be with the teenagers. I hope they like me and I hope they don't fall asleep, roll their eyes without pause, or text furiously during my talks. In short, I hope they are more polite than I was as a teenager. I'll let you know how it goes.

In the meantime, I have felt the need to laugh lately. I think it's winter. Winter and I are on bad terms. I only liked him hanging around for a little while but I'm really sick of him now. He bugs me. And I want to feel my toes when I go outside but Winter keeps stepping on them.

Plus, I have become a little loony and have started creating season-people in my head.

I wish Summer would come over. We were so close a few months ago, hanging out all the time, going for walks at sunset, eating ice cream in the park. Now she just lets my calls go straight to voicemail.

See what I mean? I need some laughter around here.

For whatever reason, this does it every time. Enjoy Dennis. And you have my full permission to start announcing your presence when you enter a room. Try it. And then send me the video. Winter and I will watch it together.

Signs, Signs, Everywhere are Signs

Now that I'm noticing signage, I'm really getting a charge out of how weird so many of them are. Who makes signs? Are they the same, humorless people who work at the DMV? I saw a few particularly helpful signs on a recent trip and I felt the grave responsibility of sharing them with you. Think of it as a Public Service Announcement, signage style. (Not to be confused with Gangham Style, but I bet these signs will make even more sense if you do the dance while you look at them.)

First, breastfeeding is depressing, especially on airplanes.

Second, using laser vision at the exit nearest your seat will make the time pass quickly even if you didn't score a seat in business class.

Third, Wheelchair Ejection is a little known but awesome ride at Disneyland. Get a Fast Pass first and come back later because the lines are killer.

Finally, infants who don floatation devices at night are likely to get their greatest ideas in the quiet of a midnight float. Please don't interrupt their train of thought, and for goodness' sake, don't let them wear socks.

Happy Wednesday!

On the Bookshelf: Unorthodox by Deborah Feldman

Holy cats, did I happen upon a great book.

I honestly cannot remember where I bought it. Do you have this problem? Buying books and hoarding them, stacking them up in your house, by your bed? Compulsively making lists of what you want to read? Purchasing them and then forgetting the time and place because everything else ceases to matter when you've brought it home and have smelled the pages?

I. Am. El. Weirdo.

So first I smelled the pages (check!) and then I read this:

Feldman is a young woman from Brooklyn who grew up in an isolated and conservative Hasidic Jewish community. I knew a bit about Hasidism but this book is so intimate, so beautifully written, such a can't-look-away glimpse into a world relatively close to mine but eons away. I ate it up, all the while marveling at this woman's courage and at how legalism and rejection of grace can take many, many forms.

Worth a read, for sure. Plus the pages smell awesome.

Click here to buy Unorthodox.

'94 Rules!

Remember high school?

Riiiight. Me neither. I'm trying really hard in this moment to remember high school, but I'm afraid all I can remember is big hair and being nervous.

Photo source.

I don't think the hair made me nervous but it certainly couldn't have helped.

I'm getting ready to speak at a youth group convention. There will be about a gazillion (700) teenagers in one room and I am the speaker. For three days.

This is where you should commit to prayer and fasting for me.

I'm sure it will be fine and I have every hope that the guy who booked me won't lose his job as a direct result of his irresponsibility in hiring such a WEIRDO, but in the wee hours, my mind does race.

Remember high school?!

I cannot wait to meet these kids, talk with them, hear their stories, share a bit of mine. I wish I could take my 16-year-old self out for breakfast and let her in on a few secrets. Like that high school doesn't last forever. And what's beyond is much more beautiful and full. And that waiting for the approval of others turns out to be just as much of a colossal waste of time in adulthood as it was in tenth grade. And that liquid blue eyeliner is actually kind of creepy.

What would you say to your high school self, other than to photograph your abs daily because they'll never, ever recover after childbirth?

Words of wisdom? Warnings? Cheers? I'd love to hear.

Jeggings and Other Horrors

Please, please help me out here.

Why the jeggings?

Photo source.

Try not to concentrate on the fact that this particular woman hasn't eaten since half-way through the Clinton administration and focus instead on my confusion. Why skin-tight jeans that aren't jeans, with cuffs that squeeze all the blood out of one's ankles?

I have man-calves. There. I said it. I am the girl who cannot find stylish leather boots that zip because that zipper will end up slicing into my man-calf. Instead I have to find boots made from scary, synthetic materials that are stretchy and smell funny because they were made in a laboratory in Guam. I am the girl who should have pursued gymnastics or professional calf raising competitions because my man-calves would LITERALLY crush the competition.

Photo source.

So leggings/jeggings are full-fledged danger zone for me. Can I get an amen out there? Or are you all the people who have lovely calves and delicate ankles? I have serious delicate-ankle-envy. And you should be a little scared of my anger because people with huge calves can be vicious when provoked.

Please tell me I'm not the only one. Jeggings be gone?

Reasons I'm Not Famous

Did you watch the Golden Globes? Yeah, me neither. I had good intentions and I think Amy P. and Tina Fey are hi-larious, but I get so distracted so easily and I think that night I cleaned out my shoe rack. Turns out, the Birkenstocks I bought in the mid-nineties really AREN'T coming back in style. 

Which brings me to the subject of the day: Why I Am Not Famous and Should Never Be Allowed to Attend a Fancy Party. First, I might try to wear Birkenstocks. Second, I would absolutely not wear an appropriate dress/gown/ensemble, particularly if we take a look at what important people were sporting this year at the GGs. First, I give you Jessica Chastain:

Gorgeous and talented. But Sea Foam on me would be more like Sea Sick and Midwestern. Her pale and beautiful does not translate to my skin in Iowa winter because there is very little justice in the world. Finally, a sports bra would really ruin the whole look here but I'd be terrified to let things take their natural course. Sea foam sports bra it would be.

I think Halle is a lovely person, but if I tried to poke and prod my extra flesh into this ensemble, I would either be arrested or tied over a spit with an apple stuck in my mouth.

On to J-Nude.

 I don't see the love here. Why nude panty hose behind lace? Is this pretty? I am missing the point, I am sure. Also, I could stare at the camera with a smoldering gaze until all the cows came home and I'd still look like I forgot to cover the groceries.

Emily Blunt:

A wholly unnatural way to stand, but we're talking clothes here and I have to say it: Cut-outs will never touch this bod. I'm trying to show people God LOVES them, not the opposite. Trust me when I say a midriff cut-out would communicate hatred to all God's children.

I have such a long, faraway journey to make before I can understand the ways of fashion. In the meantime, anybody need a pair of Birks?

Winner!

Thanks for entering, for liking, and for thinking about free booties, all in the name of love. Our winner, winner, chicken dinner is.....

Stacie Baumler Gorkow! 

Congrats, Miss Stacie. Kristen of K. Noel will contact you about your spoils.

And because a True Random Number Generator isn't exactly my idea of solid entertainment, I leave you with this:

Photo credits.

What is wrong with me that I think this is hysterical?!

Don't worry--Marc is safe. But I might just mention my blog post today, see if he takes a look. I guarantee he'll be more interested in the True Random Number Generator. Physics majors are phun like that. Phun and safe from fatal neck injuries.

Happy Thursday!