I rite like fore an exaple.

In all fairness, this is what I looked like when I wrote the following. (Or at least this was my profile as interpreted on construction paper.)

Allow me to interpret the poetic essay, "My Family."

My dad comes home and says, "Honey is dinner ready yet? It had better be because I'm starving." My sister is a little brat on Saturdays and Sundays because she always hogs the T.V.! Now my mother... on school morning you can hear her across the street saying, "Get up or you're going to be late!" Whenever we go to a store, guess what happens to my brother? He always falls and busts his lip open. My fish are named Tiger and Goldy. My sister's fish is named Katie. Now me? I write, like for example this story I just wrote. That's all, so bye.

- - -

If memory serves me, these descriptions might have all been slightly exaggerated. My sister was probably only a brat about the T.V. one of those two days. :)

Also - I am very thankful for spellcheck.

- - -

And also... I'm thinking of signing my name with a heart from now on.

- - -

And finally... your support has been amazing and wonderful - even the feedback with pointers. I can't say thank you enough!

Valpal

This is supposed to be Val... but she's on holiday. (I say that because it makes me feel British.) Val was actually HERE for 5 days... but now she's at a staff retreat. That's kind of like a holiday... with team-building. ANYWAYS... Did you know that we've been blogging together since 2007? Ridiculous. A lot can change in 4 years. Here's a personal fave by Valpal from back in the day. Enjoy.

_______

OVERDUE LETTERS from AUGUST 2007

Dear Schick,

Remember when my little brother cut his face open with one of your lady razors? I know you felt bad, but it really wasn't your fault. What five year old boy wouldn't want to try and shave his face with his mother's razor while in the shower? We heard him crying and I was sent to check on him. When I screamed at Mom that his face was bleeding, not only did she literally jump out of her shoes, but I could swear that she left a little cloud of dust behind. In fact, I think as she ran, the background started repeating over and over and her legs turned into those giant circles. Of course he was fine, though he still has a scar from that little adventure. Don't worry, the family will not be bringing about a lawsuit as a result. We realize now that a five year old should never be left alone with a sharp razor in temptingly close distance.

Not your fault,
Valerie

Dear Hellmann's,

One time my sister and I were left alone to clean the kitchen after dinner. This included rinsing out the jars, cartons, and other items to be recycled. Now I don't think Ginger had a full understanding of physics yet, because when she turned the water on full blast andstuck the mayonaise jar under the faucet, she didn't exactly expect the water to come shooting back out at her. One good squirt and she was covered with a substantial amount of mayonnaise-y water. Oh, and did I mention that Ginger hated mayonaise? Because she did. A lot. So needless to say, this travesty was about on par with being covered with vomit.

Now the scream Janet Leigh let out in Psycho? Has got nothing on my sister at that moment. A few of the windows in the kitchen actually cracked from the sound. It wasn't long before she had sprinted out of the room, stripping off her t-shirt as she ran. Soon after, I heard a door slam and the water start running. Naturally a travesty of this magnitude warranted a shower so that she could be cleansed of all traces of the mayonnaise. I know this doesn't sound good for you guys, so I just wanted to write and tell you that this event was not a reflection on the quality of your fine product. Just yet another example of what it's like to grow up with an overdramatic sister (though to this day I still believe it was just a detailed ploy to get out of cleaning the kitchen and leaving me with the rest of the dishes).

Don't take it personally,
Valerie

Yes! We HAVE Always Been This Cool!

Mondays are always "Blast from the Past" days on the Facebook page I run for work. I find old photos from past decades and share them with our followers, always enjoying the crazy hairstyles and rather, uh... interesting facial hair. But why should they have all the fun?

Today, Blast from the Past happens here... MORBY STYLE.

First up, Ginger lookin' like a boss. Val lookin' like a veg (etable.)


Time for an afternoon of rollerblading with Uncle Ken. See? G's skillz with a pair of rollerblades go way back. My skillz with a dorky pink helmet ALSO have a history. (AND: the t-shirt tucked into the cotton shorts? Seriously- looking good, Morby.) (ALTHOUGH: Ginger's black shortalls are kind of giving me a run for my money.) (Let's be honest.) (On second look, no. No one looks worse than Val here.)


Sorry this picture is a little cut off, but it had to be shared. This was our Christmas card circa 1999, I believe. I remember selecting our clothes for the artistic comment of simplicity converging on to more complex patterns, in the form of solids followed by stripes followed by plaid. That's just the sort of intentional, creative statement my family is famous for making!*


Just after Ginger's performance in the Homecoming musical "Guys and Dolls" in 2003. This is back when my hair wanted to be Chloe Sullivan's hair. (It didn't really work.) It was all my hair's idea! On the right is Cousin Shanni, not a long-lost third Morby sister.

So I'm sorry, but no, this blog is not about to get more interesting with the addition of another sister. It's still just us.

*Not true but at all.

Spell real good.

There's a box that's been sitting in my basement since my parents brought all my treasures (trophies, papers, childhood pizazz) out to Arizona in August.

I've recently started letting myself comb through the contents of the purple plastic container. Today's selection is apparently circa 2nd grade, but I'm not going to let that orange marker actually tell me my spelling and handwriting were that bad in 2nd grade. Maybe this is the summer between 1st and 2nd grade. Regardless... I'm thankful for this informative Sunday School worksheet from Lutherans for Life.

Hi. I'm Ginger. I spell real good.

Please note that while my family is very fun and loving...

...they are also apparently mucicule (musical), inresponsibil (irresponsible?), lazzy (lazy), and yeilingly (YELLING!). This summary is amazing.

Now let's see how many words we can make from my name. O look. Robart, chilly and poon. That totally makes sense from the letters provided.

Let's take it a step further and meet my parents.

I like that my dad makes malts and is mucicle. But mom buys my favorite foods... sometimes.

Note that while I cannot spell, I am getting all the questions about Jesus correct. Yess.

Finally, let's talk about all the members of my family. Perhaps my brother wasn't old enough to actually be considered a member of the family. :)

Oh and also, I'm a really fast runner.

I'm Ginger. I spell real good.

A Very Raffi Christmas

I don't think anything can compare to the Christmas memories we formed as children. For my siblings and I, that includes our Disney Christmas VHS tape, Sunday school Christmas programs, Advent devotions around the Christmas table with the whole family, special Christmas tree ornaments, helping Dad hang the lights on the house outside, and of course, Raffi.

We have a very worn cassette tape that got a lot of play in our minivan, and you only need to say "Old toy trains" and any of us will chime in with "little toy tracks, little toy drums, coming from a sack carried by a man dressed in white and red..."

This one goes out to the Morbys:


"...little one, don't you think it's time you were in bed?"

Oh, and also this one!


Can't forget this song!


Okay, that's it- I promise. :)

What are some of your favorite Christmas memories and traditions? Do you remember Raffi?

36 Hours Till Daybreak* (original spelling)

Sometimes 'til just needs a little umph. I provide that.

I'm continuing the little trip down memory lane with part 2 of my short story from 6th... ok, maybe 7th or even 8th grade. You can find part 1 right here.

* * * *

"36 Hours till DAYBREAK"

Part 2

DFW Airport, 4:42pm

"I look like a mess," thought Blair. She was in a crowded restroom trying to bring life back to her face. She had not taken well to her flight, and now the thought of her flight to New York put more sag into her shoulders. She grabbed her earrings out of her purse and pushed them through her ears. She quickly dabbed powder to her nose and put on some lipstick.

"At least now I look human," she mumbled under her breath. As her shoes clicked along the floor, she realized that she needed to confirm dinner with her source. She looked for her cell phone, but it was roaming.

"Great!" She glanced over at a pay phone, forcing a quarter into it she dialed the number. After three rings a male voice answered.

"Hello."

"Yes, this is Blair Stevens. May I please speak with David Bradley?"

For a while there was no sound.

"Mam... I'm sorry but Mr. Bradley is unable to speak with you at the moment."

"Well will you confirm with him our dinner plans for this evening?"

"One sec."

A muffled sound came through the receiver.

"Ms. Stevens?" A new voice rang out.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry to tell you this... but Mr. Bradley was killed in his car this morning."

No sound.

"Mam?"

"Um. Yes. I'm here. This is just shocking news... I... um..."

"Yes?"

"Well, I just talked to him this morning over the phone."

"Ms. Stevens, I'm Jack Conol, the chief of police and I was wondering if you would mind coming over here for some questions?"

The home of the Bradleys, 5:36pm

"What am I doing here?" though Blair as she pulled up to the crime scene. She got out of the red Accord she had rented. Her long legs ached as she walked up the sidewalk. Several cops looked at her. She knew even at 35 she could still turn heads. She purposefully directed her gaze forward as a balding man came towards her.

"A smart looker," thought Jack. "Ms. Stevens, sorry to inconvenience you, but since you seem to have spoken to Mr. Bradley many times recently, and you might be the last person he spoke to, we had to ask you to come."

"I understand," said Blair.

"Good. Now let's go inside to talk."

As Blair and Conol quickly walked into the house he smiled. He was glad the two were talking... glad Bradley was dead. Now it would be that much easier to get rid of Blair.

* * * *

I hope that I too can one day be like Blair - pushing earrings through my ears and still making heads turn at 35. HAH.

Treasure Trove

I promised to share the treasure trove of childhood ramblings and I'm finally finding a spare hour to be able to get to it. As far as I can tell - this short story was crafted by my 6th, 7th or 8th grade self. (That's a guess based on handwriting.) I am going to keep all the original spelling and will probably have to break this up into several installments.

Warnings:

-Even though I came in second in the all-school spelling bee in 8th grade... I'm atrocious at spelling.

-During this period of my life I was reading a lot of Mary Higgins Clark. Scratch that. I read every book that woman wrote one summer. If you've read any of her work you will find some similarities here.

-I haven't read this story all the way through before posting it. I'm just going for it.

"36 Hours till DAYBREAK"

Houston, TX. Wednesday, January 12 at 2:45pm

"Hobby Airport please, and quick"

The tall, imposing, brunet barked out the order as she closed the door of the taxi she had called for over 30 minutes ago. Her flight left at 3:30, if she didn't make it her whole evening would be ruined. Blair Stevens was not late for anything. Blair pulled out her compact and brushed through her hair. She tried to smoothe out the wrinkles of her black skirt. Her outfit was one large oven. The bright red button down sweater and black sweater skirt combo had become suicide on the warm winter Houston day. It was already 67 outside and now there was traffic on I45. How there could be a traffic at 2:45 she didn't know. Blair pulled out her cell phone to call her boss.

"Hi Janet, this is Blair Stevens, could you put me through to Kurt?"

The reply came stiffly over the breaking connection.

"Mr. Phillips is not to be bothered, but if you would like I will give him a message."

"Oh sure, tell him the last leg of my story is being finished tonight and that I will be flying home tomorrow."

"It sure will be nice to have you back Mrs. Stevens."

"Thank you Janet. Goodbye."

"Bye."

The dial tone rang in her ear as she looked out at the buildings. Of course they couldn't compare to New York City, but after telecommuting and traveling to Houston every two weeks for two years she sure would miss it. Blair was a television journalist working for ABC about two years ago. She had been given a story that was going to rock America at its heart. Now, tonight she would be interviewing her last source. Without him she had no story.

"Mam."

Blair opened her eyes to find she was at Hobby airport. She quickly grabbed her purse and handbag as the taxi driver gave her luggage to the porter. She paid the taxi and rushed to the gate. When she got there, the last of the passengers were just getting on. As she boarded a sense of relief came over her. As she fell into a deep sleep hearing the vague sounds of the captain welcoming everyone on their non-stop flight to Dallas. It was now 3:42pm.

Dallas, TX Wednesday, January 12 at 3:45pm

"What do you think chief?"

"Well - it looks to me like we got ourselves one heck of a hit-man, Miller. Some heavy dough was put into this one. The son of a... well... the poor dead guy has a wife and a little girl. He was only 35. He didn't even know what was coming. This guy was shot through his car window as he was pulling out to go to work, or it looks that way. His wife was bringing the kids home from school and they find this."

"Do we know where the guy who shot him was when he did this?"

"It looks like he drove past in his car and shot, but there's nothing to prove it."

The tall, balding police chief left to go inside to speak to the wife.

"This has to be getting to him," thought Sergeant Miller. The Sgt turned to spot the medical examiner.

"Hey Frank, boy have I got a story about this dead guy."

. . . . .

I know. You're just as excited as I am to find out what's going to "rock the heart of America" and if this heck of a hit man has anything to do with it. Deep breaths. I may not have even finished the story. Who knows? Perhaps the chief or Sergeant Miller. My guess is that only Mrs. Blair Stevens -telecommuting journalist for ABC who pays porters to lift her bags - really knows.

(P.S. I think I would like to read a running commentary on this story by Valerie. Anyone else with me?)

Slightly Distracted

Family traditions are straight up random when they don't belong to your family. We had an "Awkward Family Christmas... Party" for our youth kids this week and we spent part of the evening sharing traditions. A lot of people all wear new pajamas on Christmas Eve. Several families actually hide pajamas for everyone to hunt. One family plays a giant game of hide and seek in the dark late Christmas Eve - this includes Grandma.

I didn't ever think of our family traditions as odd... until I verbalized them to several people this year and everyone shook their heads knowingly. "Yep. Your family is weird too." Perhaps it was the fact that all of the kids slept in the same room (even as recently as just a few years ago), or the random assortment of goodies in our stockings (batteries, tic tacs, and a lint roller), but I think it was the fact that we still claimed our spots for our Santa gifts when I was 20 years-old. We also used to identify the earliest time everyone could wake up on Christmas morning. As soon as we stepped out of the Christmas Eve service at church, the bartering would begin. When we were really young we used to open Christmas gifts around 6:30am. We've now progressed to roughly 8:30 or 9:00am. I think Clay would still prefer for it to be earlier.

Christmas Eve for the past few years has been spent at my Aunt and Uncle's Church. We usually attend a later evening service. It's beautiful. They usually have a professional vocalist from the Houston Opera, a full orchestra, and a massive choir. The pipe organ is gorgeous. As I look around and see teenagers checking fantasy football scores and texts on their phones, I can't help but notice my own distractions. I have to turn off my desire to wonder about the fonts chosen for the bulletin or the turn-around for the next service. "You do not work here. Stop worrying about child-care." The distractions of the season are everywhere and they beckon us to concern ourselves with just about anything but the Christ-child in the manger.

We started a new sermon series in youth this past weekend entitled "Unwrapped." Our hope is to strip away everything that's been added and pull out just the story from Matthew and Luke. We spent this past weekend remembering that Mary was not chosen out of her perfection, but out of her willingness. This weekend we will examine that first "Silent Night" that was probably anything but silent. For while our Savior was sinless, he was most certainly fully human... and much crying he probably did make. You get the idea.

All this to say, in ten days, when you sit by yourself... or with your crazy family - in front of a tree, around a table, in a wooden pew, or on a cushioned chair... remember the 42 generations who awaited the birth of the Messiah. Recall the young teenage girl who gave up her expectations for God's amazing reality. Picture the infant breathing his first gulp of air and wailing - and then the man who cried out and gave up his last breath on Calvary. This God made flesh has come.

"Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us. This is the LORD for whom we have waited; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation." Isaiah 25:9

Way back when.

When I was a kid I used to walk around and try to act like Sandy from Grease. I dressed in a pair of my mom’s wooden wedge heals that were the navy version of the exact shoes she wears at the end of the movie. I added black spandex pants and a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader jacket and I was set to walk down the hall, throw down a Barbie shoe (in place of a cigarette, of course) and quip, “Tell me about it, stud.”

I invited a handful of girls over for my second grade birthday party to spend the night. We watched Grease. It was one of those awesome moments for my mom when she realized that she didn’t quite remember how mature Grease actually was. I think the piece d’ resistance was when a girl piped up later “I know what sex is.” Can’t you just picture my mom’s eyes bugging out from her head? I know I can.

When we were kids Val and I used to play library and grocery store a lot. For a long time I thought I wanted to get my masters in library science. I think I really just liked those stickers on the backs of the books in the 90’s – the one with the due dates. I would have given my right arm to get to have one of those little contraptions that dispersed the stickers.

Included in our repertoire of fun things to play was the game, Land Before Time. One of us would be Littlefoot and the other would be Cera… and we would butt heads. As in be on all fours and go towards each other from opposite sides of the room. I would pay money to watch that now, but that is not one of the moments captured on our home movies. We do, however, have a home movie of Valerie and I singing, "dancing", and over acting where Val is wearing a pink leotard with Land Before Time characters on the front. This almost makes up for it.

I’ve spent the last ten years dispelling the belief of my parent’s that I was really just a great kid. I was a good kid, just very sneaky. I didn’t do anything illegal, but I just did a lot of lying. I would hide my vitamins behind the TV, shove my carrots in the floor of the playhouse, and drink cokes (which was totally against the rules about 50 weeks out of the year) and then put the empty cans in special hiding places. Why those hiding places did not involve the trashcan I’m not certain. My mom would leave for the grocery store and give us firm instructions on how to use our time. Usually it involved cleaning our rooms, working on homework, or practicing an instrument. We would instead, watch TV. As soon as we heard that garage door open we would bolt around the house looking very busy and very determined to accomplish our tasks. I was a whiz at setting the timer with only 7 or 8 minutes left to practice my piano when she arrived. “Look at me, I’ve been practicing SO hard for 38 minutes.”

With three kids needing to practice multiple instruments throughout the day, we had to resort to practicing at odd times. There was a large chunk of my life where I practiced the piano at 6:15am on the weekdays. I can’t even speak to people before 8:00am, so you can imagine how much I loved that. I figured out a way to practice AND sleep during that time. We had a full keyboard next to one of our pianos (some dads buy cars, my dad likes pianos), and I would record myself running scales, practicing one song, or working on chords, and then I would simply play my work on loop for about half an hour while I laid on the bench. My mom once caught me laying on the bench and playing scales with just my right hand. That went over really well.

All three of us kids have thrown up at the kitchen table. All three of us have thrown up green beans at the kitchen table. Eventually they stopped putting them on our plates. Good move.

I want to try to do some version of all of these things tomorrow, just for fun. Maybe not the green beans, but we’ll see. So, rebellious child you, what did you try to pull on your folks? Do tell.

Just Like Romeyo and Julyet

I just found this "Children's Newspaper" I wrote when I was probably in about second grade. It's pretty professional of me, considering I not only reported all the stories, but also took on the full responsibility of page layout, fact-checking, AND drawing the reporter's (me) picture by hand.

I really like this first story. I was always being warned about the dreaded UNDERTOE when we went to the beach, so naturally this is what I am warning my readers about.

!Danger!
A couple weeks ago a little girl about 6 years old, went out a little to far in the ocean. The undertoe was realy bad. The little girl drounded. A couple of day's later, a boy about 20 years old went out too far. A couple of day's later, (GAH! Unnessecary morbidity alert!) the body was found. So be carful when there's bad undertoe, and don't go out too far.

Things to Know (Did I mention HEADLINE WRITER as well?)
Today kid's in Amrica are helping save the earth. Picking up paper, soda can's, bodel caps, can all be helping save are earth. Like Romeyo and Julyet (nice), he saved her, and you can save the earth. (I've always been good with analogies.) Some kids are going to school all year around. (HOW IS THIS HELPING??) That's the story. Goin us next time on the Children's new's paper!!!


I wrote following class paper in sixth grade. Enjoy, and maybe try to cut Miss Braggy McBraggerson a bit of a break here.

My Life
September 14, 1995

My life is very blessed. I was baptized September 20, 1984, shortly after I was born on August 28. Then, my dad was transferred to Plano, Texas. That was when we moved from Houston to Plano in 1985. In 1986, my mom dressed me up as a clown for my first Halloween. (An equally important life event, obviously.) Then came the day in 1987 when I started preschool at Faith.

We were all very excited on July 13, 1988 when my mother had my brother, Clayton. (She arranged to have him in the Victorian area, apparently. Seriously, what is with the akward formality?) Next, in 1989, I started ballet lessons as a beginner. In 1990, I gave up ballet (As if I were some great trained dancer or something. Seriously? I probably had about three weeks of lessons total.) and tried soccer on my first team, the Unicorns. Then in 1991, we got an invitation to go visit my great-grandmother in Young Harris, Georgia. At the end of the second grade, I fell on my bike and broke three of my fingers, leaving me in a cast for the beginning of the summer. (Totally Ginger's fault, BY THE WAY.)

In October of 1993, my family got the joy of going to Disneyworld. And then in 1994, we traveled to Colorado. During the summer of 1995 my first book was published. (When it is one out of ONE, you cannot use the word first. And the "book" was part of a writing program at the local library-- you didn't have to be Lucy Maud Montgomery to be published.)

I love my life! (And what a way to end with such a well-thought out conclusion! You say you're an author?)

Looking for a job? Then you can have one and be famous!

Recently I was blessed with a sizable box of old school paper, art projects, art journals, and—guys. I’ve hit the mother load. I know you’ve been subjected to a lot of my journal entries, school reports, and the like, but this is good stuff. Check it:

First, judging from the handwriting, I’d say we have a memento from probably the 5th or 6th grade. I don’t know if it’s a lesson in writing definitions and examples or a history assignment about medieval times. In either case….

Did you get that, gentlemen? Make sure you always give ladies the right of way, even if you’ve been waiting “a long time.” Where said lady is passing I’m not quite sure, but this must be a good lesson in “ladies first.” You should probably be taking notes.

I drew this masterpiece when I was nine:

No, this is not a self-portrait. I'm pretty sure this is some version of what I wished to look like. I mean, seriously. What's not to love? Neon colors? Check. Dangly earrings? Check (Oh, wait look! Double pierced! Check check!). Braces like all the cool older kids had? Check! And- most importantly- curly hair. The heavens might as well open up now and annoint this girl the Most Slammin' Look Ever award. She's earned it.

Next, from circa 4th or 5th grade. We must have been studying ancient Egypt… I have no idea what the assignment was.

Carvers Needed!
Looking for a job? Then you can have one and be famous! We are carving a new thing called a sphinx. It is half lion and half man.
Hours: 6:00 A.M. to 7:00 P.M.
Age: 16-50 years
All days a week but Sunday
10 miles west of the Nile
Pay: 50 cents an hour
Call me @ 1800-950-Valerie
(How can you be famous? It will be big!)

Just 10 miles west! You know, of any point on THE NILE. Just start anywhere! Pretty easy to find. Other than that, I mean, this seems pretty fair to me. What? You will be paid and YOU WILL BE FAMOUS. Because hello. It will be big.

Now a gem from third grade. This is labeled a “Writing Activity.” But it also comes with the added bonus of a drawing!

I always laugh at the dinner table when my brother takes the ketchup and says, “Oh I love you ketchup!” He blinks his eyelashes in a romantic way. He loves ketchup and even puts it on his ham!

Oh, HAM! Lol... I have no idea what I am even talking about. Clay would have never done something like that. Plus, he would have been in preschool when I wrote this! Sorry, Clay….

We did an enormous poetry unit in the 5th grade, which culminated in a project that I see now is called "Valerie's Book of 24 Poems." Yes, I am creative. Check out some of my genius!

Self-Portrait

My life is like a box, covered in wrapping
My eyes are like microschopes
My teeth are steel.
My hair is soft.
My heart holds joy
That is blue as the sea.
I live in a pleasant house
And eat tasty food.

Blue...joy....what?? Oh, and thanks for the pleasant house, Dad. That was aces.

Finally, I bring you the required horse drawing. You're just not a 5th grade girl without one!

I really have no idea why my parents did not encourage me to pursue a career in the arts. Baffling, isn't it?

Ingredients

People are always asking us, "What makes you so quirky?"  (That's a really polite way of wondering why we are obsessed with film, literature, and our family.  Someone recently went as far as to claim that I am insane.  I will choose to take this both in stride and as a compliment.  This is something that you must often do when you are as easily amused with your own self as we happen to be.)

"We are each a combination of many factors woven together out of the joys and sorrows of life.  We're the product of our choices.  We're the result of what was done for us or to us by our parents.  What were the ingredients that made you who you are?"

Well Luci Swindoll, I'm so glad you asked.

Val and I (and the bonus Jonas, Clay) are the result of a house that played a lot of classical music and watched a lot of the 3 Stooges.  We grew up eating picnics in the park on Sunday afternoons, attending thousands of band and choir concerts, and memorizing our own home movies.  That's right, if you don't know what we are quoting, we are probably quoting the childhood version of ourselves.

If your family attended church, you more than likely went out to lunch on Sunday.  This was not the case for our family. (Which is possibly the reason that I ate out every Sunday for lunch while in college.)  We usually enjoyed grilled cheese sandwiches while fighting over... err... reading the comics.

Soft drinks (Cokes) were reserved for special occasions.  (Which is possibly the reason I lived off of coke throughout college.)  But being the especially sneaky children that we were, we often used to drink cokes in the closet under the stairway and then hide the cans in the various drawers and crevices, only to act totally dumbfounded by such an item a few months later when mom discovered the cans.  Why we didn't throw them away when she was at the grocery store I will never know.

We were only allowed two or three Oreos for dessert.  (Which is possibly the reason you will still find the container for Oreos upstairs when we all come home for holidays.)  I discovered early on that you can fight this system.  Simply drop two Oreos into the bottom of your cup of milk and carry the three you are allowed to the table.  Although the extra Oreos will be soggy, you will have achieved a successful breaking of the rules right in front of the enemy.

I would not recommend that you allow your children to take their carrots or vitamins to "finish outside."  We didn't finish them.  We pushed the carrots and vitamins through the floorboards of our playhouse.  Our parents didn't realize that they were giving us so much more than just a place to let our imaginations run wild. 

We all read the paper, just different sections of it.  The T.V. was reserved for the weekend (or whenever mom and dad left the house.  So glad the garage door was so noisy.  "Run!  They're home.  Val, start playing the piano.  Hurry, Clay!")  Sugary cereals came three weeks out of the year (Happy Birthday to me from Lucky Charms) - and then any time you could win the battle over the mini boxes at the beach house.  I imagine we are the only kids who would try and wake up early to make sure you didn't get stuck with Apple Jacks.

We are a lucky family who still loves laughing in the kitchen and walking through the neighborhood.  We spent Advent around a wreath, and Easter at the Cha-Cha Church.  Those most loved are the brunt of countless jokes.  I pity any fool trying to enter this extended family.  We live on malts, BBQ, 7-layer dip, chocolate pie, sweet potato casserole, tiger butter, and cashews. 

My older cousin confessed to thinking us the strict family, but I know we had a fabulous childhood.  Thank you to mom and dad for:

-Doughnuts on Sunday Mornings

-Countless Family Vacations without a television producing some of the best memories.

-Music Lessons (and even getting to practice piano at 6:15am)

-Letting us try everything, even the things we were less than coordinated for (Ballet, tap, baton twirling, soccer, basketball, volleyball, softball, hockey, swim team, children's theatre, scouts, art class...)

-Breakfast for dinner

-Movie traditions on Christmas Day

-Wonderful examples of giving and prioritizing faith

-A wide appreciation for music

-A bizarre sense of humor

-The command to "Go outside and play!"

-Encouragement to do or be anything we so desire... even if we are a bit insane.

From home movies circa 1988-

Mom: What did you do today?

Ginger: I went to BSF...

Valerie: Blah, blah, yadda, shirt, paper...

Ginger:  And then I came home...

Valerie: Blah, blah, blah, babble...

Ginger:  And then I came home...

Valerie: Paper in the sink...

Ginger:  AND THEN I CAME HOME and had my quiet time.

Valerie:  Pizza!

Straight up now tell me.

I found a gold mine tonight.  My tape library. I received my first cd player in 1995, so almost everything listed is probably from about '90 to '95.  Let's see what gems this treasure trove holds.

Eagles: One of these Nights (What every 4th grader wants for Christmas.)

Maverick: The Soundtrack (I purchased this with my own money in 6th grade.  Point of pride.)

Evita: The Soundtrack (The Madonna Edition.  No excuses.)

Big Time Recording Studios: Memory (A recording from Six Flags of me singing the hit from Cats.  It's as bad as you might guess.)

The next genre of tapes is my collection of "Studio Series Background Tracks". (For singing the offertory, of course.)

Go Light Your World by Kathy Troccoli (Way too low for my range, or the range of most women.)

Jesus Is The Answer by Point of Grace

Lamb of God by Twila Paris

How Beautiful by Twila Paris (Twila, Twila, Twila.)

Joy To The World by Anointed (Because I of ALL people should be singing stuff by Anointed)

And the tapes to which I could probably still sing every lyric if required:

Point of Grace: The Whole Truth

Susan Ashton, Margaret Becker, Christine Dente: Along the Road

Songs from the Loft (With just about every Christian Artist living in Nashville in 1993.)

Susan Ashton: Self Titled Release (Wanted to be her.  First and only fan letter ever written because of this tape.)

Michael W. Smith: The First Decade (Go West Young Man, Place in this World, Friends...)

Amy Grant: The Collection (First tape I ever owned that was not a blue singing songbook)

Paula Abdul: Forever Your Girl (Second tape ever.  Straight Up was my favorite track)

Not sure if there's even a fraction of the population that would be able to identify with this "eclectic" mix of private school early 90's jams.  If that's the case, you are more than likely my sister (only instead of the Eagles you received Neil Diamond) or my cousin who lived by anything produced by Word Music (Michael W. Smith poster and all.)

Oh, one last thing.  Who jacked my Cindy Morgan tape?

And which is YOUR favorite god?

I guess I’ve just spent my entire life making lists. This one is from 7th grade….

Movie: Newsies
2nd Movie: Greace
3rd Movie: League of their Own
Color: Green
2nd Color: Black
Singing group: Beach Boys
2nd group: Newsboys
3rd group: Point of Grace
Book: And Condors Danced (I was far more enamored with the cover of this book than with its actual contents… And seriously, that's the best picture of the cover I could find!)
Food: Steak
Holiday: Christmas
Cousin: Shane
2nd Cousin: Hilary (Apologies to those cousins that actually read this blog… Love you, Shanni!)
Teacher: Mr. Kruse
Friend: Ashley
2nd Friend: Anna
3rd Friend: Charran
4th Friend: Margaret
5th Friend: Todd (Sorry, Margaret and Todd! Better work harder next time…)
Day: Saturday
2nd Day: Friday
Month: December
Season: Winter (I don't remember winter EVER being my favorite! Where did this come from??)
Candy: Milky Way
Reseraunt: Black-eyed Pea (pretty prophetic, considering I ended up waitressing there in college…)
Fast Food: McDonelds
Number: 13
Letter: V
Subject: Choir (aka the only class that didn't assign homework...)
President: Teddy Roosevelt
Animal: white tigers (so classy, Val...)
Ft. ball team: Dolphins
B. ball team: Rangers
Sport: Soccer
Soda: Coca Cola
God: Jesus, God
State: Texas
2nd State: Colorado
My modo is: Don’t Mess with Jesus (Completely original and not at all ripped off of a t-shirt I used to wear…)

Tragically Sad (and Damaging) Childhood Movies

One of my favorite places in town is a little establishment known as “Hastings.” It’s a chain store, but not everywhere has a Hastings (say it isn’t so!), so I will just inform you that this magical land is a store that sells new and used books, CDs, and DVDs. And video games, I guess, but whatever. (I also hear they throw a mean prom-style “Twilight” release party, but sadly I was not able to witness this first hand.) Anyway, I credit a large chunk of my DVD collection to the used DVD deals I’ve found at Hastings (buy one used DVD and get another for $1! DUDE!). I go there way. Too. Much.

So I was at Hastings recently, and was wandering the aisles, absentmindedly half listening to the buzz of the local geniuses* that also frequent the store, and half listening to the movie playing in the background. I didn’t know what movie it was, but the voices were making me feel so sad. Finally my head swiveled from the special edition copy of “Sixteen Candles” that I was considering buying (didn’t happen, in case you were wondering) up to the rows of video screens on the wall. There it was, the root of the sadness: “All Dogs Go to Heaven.” Guys, I barely remember this movie, but just the sound of the voices alone was stirring memories and emotions in me and I was suddenly feeling so depressed. The little dogs! And the bad guys! And the little orphan girl! I ended up leaving the store empty-handed, feeling like I needed to just head home and have a good cry. I didn’t do that, but still—isn’t that crazy? That emotions from nearly 20 years ago can be stirred like that? I’m amazed at what our subconscious can hold on to.

Anyway, that got me thinking about some other sad childhood movies, so to follow-up on my post of scary childhood movies, I now present you with Tragically Sad (and Damaging) Childhood Movies.


All Dogs Go to Heaven

As long as we’re already talking about it, here’s the trailer for “All Dogs Go to Heaven.”

But dude, don’t let it fool you, this movie is not filled with just “magic, mischief, and music.” My gosh you guys, this little girl absolutely breaks my heart! Even her voice makes my bottom lip wobble. The whole movie is on YouTube if you want to check it out, but I honestly don’t think I could ever watch this movie again.

The Rescuers

Y'all. Another little orphan girl:

She wants to be ‘dopted! How adorable is that? And they are just so horrible to her! It's awful. The worst part? That lady TOOK PENNY'S TEDDY BEAR! A thought that surely terrified me as a child. And THEN she had to go down in that hole just like Baby Jessica? Oh the trauma.

An American Tail

Surely you knew this movie would be included. As soon as you saw the title of this post, you thought to yourself, “Oh, well of course Fievel will be included.” And if you didn’t think that, may I please just direct you to the following clip?

I watched this song the other night and I hadn’t gotten past the words “pale moon light” before I burst into tears. By the end of the song I was absolutely sobbing. What is it about this song? My gosh. Really though, I remember the entire movie as being sad. He spent the whole time separated from his family?? Scared the ever-loving everything out of me, and thinking back on this movie just leaves me with a heavy heart. Terrible. Another movie I could never watch again.

This list could be longer, but I decided to refrain from including movies that have just one sad part but otherwise remember fondly, like “The Land Before Time” (His mother died! And the little TREE STAR!) or “Lady and the Tramp” (When Trusty gets run over! GAH!). Not to MENTION all the sad songs. But those movies don't completely depress me like the three mentioned above. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I need to go curl up under my comforter now. With my teddy bear.

*True story, one time I overheard the following conversation at Hastings:

Joe Bob: (picking up a movie) What about this one?
Betty Raye: Oh, eck, no, I never got into those Lord of the Rings movies.
Joe Bob: (picking up another movie) Did you ever see this one?
Betty Raye: Oh, yeah! Now that's a good movie.

And what is this mystery movie that is SO much better than The Lord of the Rings?

Cruel. Intentions.

End scene.

They Call Her Valerie

When I read Ginger’s post about her name, I thought, “Oh, that’s nice. Her name is so entertaining. But I don’t have any thing really to say on the topic. No one wants to read about the name Valerie. BORING.” Well guess what, blog readers. You don’t have a choice in the matter! I write it, you read it; that’s the deal we made. Ha!

I love the shortened “Val,” because most all of the people closest to me call me that. I don’t introduce myself as Val, because it sounds weird and fake and...you obviously don’t know me well enough to call me that. I’m okay with you calling me Val when you get there on your own.

Several people call me V, which probably seems weird and not like a name or nickname or anything AT ALL, but sounds very natural when certain people do it. V-Baby, however, can only be pulled off by a very select few....

People in my parents' generation like to sing me a random song that NO ONE ELSE has EVER heard of. It goes "Valereeee, Valeraaaah, Valerah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" Or something like that. A lot a lot of older people sing me that song. Good one.

If someone can’t quite remember my name, they will usually at least remember that it starts with a V. Victoria? Not quite. Vanessa? Eck. Do I look like a Cosby to you? And I used to really hate the Veronica guess too, but now I’m very okay with that. Anything that gets me one step closer to V. Mars....

I have never ever never seen my name spelled with a “Y.” Ever. Why do people attempt to spell my name this way? Valery? What? VALLERY?? Even weirder. Did you even try at all? You just spelled “valley” and threw an R in there, didn’t you? Fail.

“Your song’s on the radio!” Dad would tell me. And sure enough, those guys would all be singing “Valerie! I love her....” I would get all squirrely and embarrassed but totally love it all at the same time. Indeed, it has always been “My Song.”

When I was little, I always felt very limited when it came to games involving what words started with the same letter as the first letter in your name. “I’m going on a picnic and I’m bringing... a vest? Vultures? A violin?” So not creative/fun/glamorous.

The name Valerie means “determined.” For me that apparently translates to: “Determined to not doing ANYTHING until the dang LAST POSSIBLE SECOND because why not? Determined to LOSE things and BREAK things and WHAT THE CRAP? Determined to ALWAYS FORGET EVERYTHING because what was I talking about?” Yes, I am very determined.

Does anyone else...

-Actually keep the small plastic bag of extra buttons that come with new clothes? (other than my mother)

-Worry about the waitress when you have a large group of people at your table? Is anyone else paying attention to her?! Pay attention people!

-Utilize cruise control a majority of the time you are driving?

-Drink milk straight from the container?

-Drink chocolate syrup straight from the bottle?

-Remember watching Hang Time on Saturday mornings? AWESOME.

-Find cottage cheese to be disgusting? I call it bird food because it looks like a mama bird chewed it up and then spit it back out on my plate.

-Know that there are only 122 days until the movie event of the summer?

-Find reading non-fiction to be a chore?

-Wish that you too could have had an animated conscience like McGee as a child?

-Dream about meeting Jim Gaffigan?

-Only wash on two settings? Colors on cold, lights on warm. I don't have time to make 12 piles.

-Groan when King of Queens comes on?

-Find existential Facebook status updates to be ridiculous? Ginger is basking in the sun of thoughts and the dreams of clouds. OR Ginger is tap shoes and rhythm.

-Wish they could still catch WINGS reruns on t.v.?

-Recall wishing to live like The Boxcar children? I read the section about swimming in the little pool and setting up house in the car over and over. Things went downhill for me when they actually moved into a real house.

-Wish that they still had their curly elastic shoe laces?

-Cry so hard through Extreme Home Makeover that sometimes they don't think they actually have the emotional energy to watch it?

-Recognize the quote: There's something nasty in the woodshed.

-Think of the state of Texas as if it's your best friend?

-Wonder why Claudia Kishi was supposedly so fashionable when her choices were clearly unstable?

-Remember reading and loving and being obsessed with A Bride for Donnigan or The Stars for A Light - Dr. Cheney Duvall, M.D.?

-Have all the dialoge and songs memorized from at least six Psalty tapes?

-Recall spending their Saturday nights expectantly watching Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman?

....Just thought I would check.

The year was 1996...

...And it was a magical year to be me.

-Hello contacts.

-Good-bye braces.

-Farewell Algebra 1 (Oh wait, you passed because you can sweet talk your way out of anything. You will have to retake this again in 9th grade - and still struggle for a B. Sucker.)

-Shortalls. (You stay classy.)

-Nice jorts combo with the socks and loafers. (Photo likely taken in 1995.)

-Thank goodness for TGIF (The best line up: Full House, Step By Step, Boy Meets World, and Perfect Strangers. NO thank you Family Matters and Sabrina the Teenage Witch)

-I love Saturday Mornings on TNBC. (Teen NBC - Saved by the Bell, Hang Time, California Dreams)

-Girl Scout trip to home of Girl Scout Founder Juliet Lowe in Savannah, Georgia. Entire trip paid for with cookie sales. Boo-yah.

-Socks + Sandals = a winning look. Lookin’ good.
-Way to graduate 8th grade from a small private school and enter a big and scary 5A public school. (Making it through the 1st day of high school without being shivved and only sobbing once - VICTORY! Shank you, shank you very much.)

-No more practicing piano at 6:15am. "We were on a break!" (Read: QUIT)

-Hooray for pithy journal entries that say things like: "This is my link to the past..." Thank you Captain Obvious.

-HAIR FAIL. Perm.

-Filling out an application to be the Brio girl was an absolute highlight. Dear Susie: pick me!

-LYLAS. Love you and you and you...like a sister. (Don’t read into that too much, Val and I still side hug.)

Happy Birthday, Ginger!

Today is my co-blogger and sister's 27th birthday! In her honor, here's a look back at a few past birthdays. I'm sure she could tell you exactly how old she was turning in each picture, not to mention exactly what presents she got. Her memory is freakish like that....

I think she's turning maybe 4 or 5 here? I love how intensely she is opening her present. Concentrate, G!
Valerie: too preoccupied with the chocolate to participate in that whole singing "Happy Birthday" thing....

This is the very birthday where she got her Samantha doll. Bliss!

I guess she has birthday... cookies? I have no idea why she doesn't have a cake.

The piece de resistance: the Babysitters Club birthday party. All of her friends dressed up as different BSC members! Ginger was Stacey, of course.

Cheeeese! Also, please note the copy of BRIO on the corner of the table. Awesome.

Happy Birthday, G! Hope God blesses the pants off your day! High Five the Holy King.

In This Box

Once again I could think of nothing to blog about. Once again I started sifting through my old papers, notebooks, and diaries again. Maybe there’s something here that I can use? Maybe?

Amidst my searching, I stopped to go through a box of old “things.” You know, the items that we save for who knows why. It’s such an intriguing assortment of objects and papers and memories and junk. I sat on the floor poring over everything and wondering why I kept half of it.

I tried on my old glasses from seventh grade. I only wore them for reading, and just that one year. My eyes magically corrected themselves after that, and I haven’t worn glasses since!

I found an old Psalty tape, my favorite black harmonica from Galveston, and several piano competition medals. There’s a small box of my senior picture (anyone interested? I still have lots!), my uber trendy WWJD bracelet, and a set of sticker pictures two of my friends and I took at the mall. Awesome!

I really enjoyed discovering an old Footprints day planner from 1997. Everyone’s birthday is marked with a plethora of confetti and squiggle drawings. Very festive. Some of the activities I have listed are “car wash,” “hockey,” “braces,” “church potluck.” This pretty much epitomizes my junior high existence.

My favorite find, though, was my stack of mail I received while at camp the summer after ninth grade. Oh don’t worry-- I will share some with you!

Mom closed one letter with: “Keep using that sunscreen. ARE YOU WEARING YOUR RETAINER? Love Mom.” The next day she ended by saying, "Remember to brush your teeth, use your sunscreen, and DO YOU HAVE YOUR RETAINER ON?"

I laughed out loud reading one from Grandpa: “We leave for Colorado this morning and will spend the night in COOL! Mountains. Eat your heart out.”

My favorite is from my amazing great grandmother. It says “Dear Valerie: Hope you are having fun and making lots of new friends. Love Annie Mae.”

She addressed it to "Ginger."