Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

I was so jacked up when skinny jeans returned to fashion.  I was extra jacked to be able to fit into a pair of skinny jeans.  I was concerned that I wouldn't be able to pull off a stunt like skinny jeans, but bestie danilb says I kick butt in skinny jeans, though Hunneypunkin says, "ehhh..."  But who am I going to trust for fashion sense, a lady or a working man?
My happiest moment was finding a pair of not just skinny jeans, but SPARKLY skinny jeans.  Back in the late 1900's I would have traded all the boys in the world for a pair of sparkly skinny jeans.  (Being as I was a teenage girl back in the late 1900's, you can imagine how sacrificial trading all the boys in the world would have been, so you KNOW how much I wanted those jeans.)  But alas, sparkly skinny jeans were expensive.  The best I could do back in the day was sew the legs of my faded Levi's 501 handed down straight legs to the point of burning two hundred and sixty-three calories to get my heels into them.
But good things come to those who wait, as they say.  A couple decades later, here we are in skinny jeans again.  And not just any skinny jeans.  Sparkly ones!  And because I waited patiently for them, I didn't have to trade in all the boys in the world.  Which is pretty great, because now I have sons, and they're even better than all the boys I knew back in the day.  Plus, can you even imagine a world without Jeremy Renner?

One Last Cross

Pixie has collected cross necklaces since she was little.  (-er.  She hasn't become large.)
Naturally her great grandad collected them for her.  I mean, if you were a great grandad whose pixie collected cross necklaces, wouldn't you collect them for her?
Pixie's great grandad passed away recently.
One day I commented to Pixie that the necklace she wears every day may be due for a replacement.  The pendant had long since broken and fallen off, and the chain was tarnished and discolored.
"I KNOW THAT," she said, wearing her best Jeremy Renner face.  "This was the last cross necklace Grandad gave me.  I'm not taking it off."
Among Grandad's belongings, a cross necklace was discovered, and the family sent it our way.
Pixie changed her necklace.

Catching More Comments Than Dreams

My full blood Native American friend who calls herself an American Indian gave me a dream catcher as a gift.
My millennial friend scolded me for referring to my Native American friend as an American Indian.
My caucasian friend who identifies as a Chippewa condemned my dream catcher as a fake.
My liberal friend disowned me as a racist because I had the audacity to display a piece of art not belonging to my culture.
My conservative friend said my dream catcher was cute.
My superstitious friend suggested I remove the dream catcher from my home because it could invite evil spirits.
My pagan friend lectured me on the history of dream catchers and their difference from mandalas.
My Catholic friend saw the dream catcher and crossed herself.
My non-Jewish friend who identifies as a Jew also identified the dream catcher as an idol and claimed I must destroy it.
My Jewish friend says that if I'm not worshiping it, the dream catcher is neither an idol nor a statue or graven image, so I can keep it.
My Jewish friend who identifies as a non-Jew displays in her home a dream catcher with the Star of David in the middle of it.
My African American friend who calls herself "black" and does not originate from Africa admired the variance of eras and ethnicity she found represented in my life.
My white friend who identifies as African American shushed me when I referred to my African American friend who does not originate from Africa as "black".
My prepper friend built me a bomb shelter and stocked it with three decades' worth of food and water and didn't notice that my family room was sporting a dream catcher.
My church friend came over to assist me with a service project and we were too involved with our work to concern ourselves with the dream catcher.
My BFF brought me a caramel mocha and commented on my dream catcher, and we visited for hours about the wonder of cultural diversity in America.
Jeremy Renner doesn't really give a monkey's butt.  He just keeps cranking out movies.
My cat climbed the wall, assaulted the dream catcher, and ate the feathers off.
I repaired my dream catcher, hung it where the cat can't get to it, and smiled about all my friends.

Untitled Post

Lefty recommended that I write another blog post, and we all know that I do as I'm told.
Unfortunately I'm so boring, there's nothing to write about.  My fans know this.  Both of you.  Even my critics know it.  All three of them.
I logged into Blogger and noticed I had a blank draft with no title so I decided to start there.  I can't wait to see what my biggest critic, the neighborhood gossip, Lou Scannon, has to say about this pointless post.  He doesn't actually read my blog, but my good friend (or whatever) Dromiquine tells him all about it and together they cook it into a scandal.  And since bad publicity is still publicity, I will probably have to thank them when my meaningless pecks at the keyboard accidentally win me some weird type of award.
Why any of you keep reading this crap is beyond my comprehension.  Jeremy Renner would have moved on to something more interesting a long time ago.

The Dying Art of Proper English

It's not easy being a closet grammar nazi.  A poster at our local high school says, "Purposeful, Respectful, Intelligent, Determined, Excellence."  The first four words are adjectives and the last one is a noun.  I deeply feel that all five words should be the same part of speech.  If all five words were nouns, the sign would read, "Purpose, Respect, Intelligence, Determination, Excellence".  If all were adjectives it would say, "Purposeful, Respectful, Intelligent, Determined, Excellent".  Unless, of course, the first four words are describing the excellence, in which case everything I just said is moot.  Then again, Random Unlimited IS moot.  I can't believe someone of your intelligence is even wasting time reading it.
Watching TV sets me nazi-ing terribly.  Maybe America's Got Talent, but it doesn't gots grammar.  If America DID have grammar, the TV show would be called "America Has Talent".  I can't make it through a half-hour sitcom without hearing "who" where "whom" should be used.
Current music kills me.  Curses serve as all parts of speech, lyrics are pointless, and the rhymes, don't.
Am I the only one who knows these things?  Are there any others left who know how to diagram a sentence?  Does anyone even know what a syllable is anymore?  (That's the number of vowel sounds in a word.  For instance, "Jeremy" has three syllables, "Lee" has one syllable, and "Renner" has two syllables.)  ("I" is generally a one-syllable word, but Dromiquine--you know her--manages to make it a multiple because it's her favorite subject.)  (Palindromes are words that spell the same thing backward as they do forward, such as "mom", "dad", "Bob", "Do geese see God", or "Renner".)  (Palindromes don't really fit into this paragraph.)  (It's unprofessional to use several sets of parentheses in succession.)
If no one knows the rules of the English language, there's no longer any comedic value in my intentional misuse of it, in which case my life is over.

Is That Luke Bryan?

That dude is everywhere.
Turn on a country music radio station at any given moment, and every third song, whom will you hear?  Luke Bryan. 
Check out the host of the country music awards.  Is that Luke Bryan?  Check out the winner of the country music awards.  Is that Luke Bryan?
He gets around.  Last year I came face to face with a life-size cardboard cutout in Cabela's in Post Falls, and all I could say was, "Is that Luke Bryan?"

Whose kind of night is it?  Luke Bryan's.  Who's kicking up dust?  Luke Bryan.  Who's touring Europe?  Luke Bryan.
Recently my work took me to Las Vegas, and whose larger than life self was looking all awesome gazing down from a mural on the wall right there on the Las Vegas strip?  Jeremy Renner's.  AND...Luke Bryan's.

Changing of the Guard

This year I celebrated the twenty-first birthday of The Precious, I watched Angel Doll and my Treasure graduate high school, and I said goodbye to Grandpa.  The guard is changing.  Does anyone ever feel prepared for the future?
We've done our best to train up our children in the way they should go, and now we get to watch them live out what we have taught them.  But that doesn't mean our work is over, only that our job description has changed.  We get to be the support system as our children test their wings, celebrate their successes, and maybe even make their own mistakes.  We are qualified to help them recover from, and forgive themselves for, mistakes they may make, because we have modeled that in our own lives.  At least, we are trying to!
And if we are REALLY blessed, we, like Grandpa, will someday celebrate a fiftieth wedding anniversary (and then some), and see our grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and even a great-great grandchild.
Ready or not, the future has come.  We have faith that God has prepared us to carry the torch.  We will continue to love our enemies, bless those who curse us, do good to them that hate us, and pray for them which despitefully use us and persecute us.  We will be mightier than Jeremy Renner.  The guard is changing, and whether we feel ready, we will trust that we ARE ready.  Our children are ready to be adults.  We are ready to witness our children becoming adults.  We will be ready if parents begin to need us more than we need them.  And we will hope to be as gracious as Grandma as she takes the helm without Grandpa.  Go in peace, Grandpa.  We will take it from here.