Category Archives: Uncategorized

All Oppression Shall Cease

Posted on December 19, 2012 by caverns of my mind

One of my favorite parts of Christmas is the music.  I’ve been singing as many Christmas songs as I could learn since I was first able to sing, as far as I can remember anyway (between singing Christmas songs and songs from Annie loudly, for all to hear when I was a child, it’s hard to understand why I’m terrified to sing in front of people now).  Though I do actually enjoy many of the more secular songs, like “Frosty the Snowman” and “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” the dearest to me have always been the more traditional songs- the songs about the true origin and meaning of the holiday.  When I was younger, my favorite was always “Silent Night.”  It’s slow, reverent, and beautiful.  However, somehow I had missed for years the most beautiful of all Christmas songs.

Then in the early ’90s, while watching Home Alone, I heard it in the background while Kevin spoke with the “scary neighbor” in the church scene. “O Holy Night,” my favorite Christmas song gives me goosebumps and brings tears to my eyes whenever I hear it done well.  None of those fast-tempo versions can do that though.  It must be sung slowly, and with real feeling.

Intrigued by one of the lesser performed verses of the song (indeed, it is difficult to find versions of the song with this verse), I decided to do some research into the song’s origins.  I found an intriguing piece of literature on the matter, and if you’re also interested, please read.  It’s a bit long, but quite interesting and worth the time.

To make a long story short, for the part of this song’s history most relevant to me, though not originally written for the purpose of abolitionism, the following verse was picked up by an American and used for an anti-slavery message during the Civil War:

“Truly He taught us to love one another,
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother.
And in his name all oppression shall cease.”

Since I find my biggest passion to be fighting modern-day slavery, I guess it’s fitting that this is the dearest of all Christmas songs to me.

I’m sharing a beautiful and reverent version sung by an artist I have only recently heard, Kerrie Roberts. I love that she includes at least most of this often left out verse, and that she keeps the song simple and beautiful. Some modern artists insist on singing crazy vocal runs and just overdoing an already amazing song.

 

 

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Counting Potatoes

Posted on December 8, 2012 by caverns of my mind

A recent episode of Glee brought back some old memories for me.  Yes, I watch and love Glee.  One of the characters (Ryder Lynn, played by Blake Jenner) confesses that he cannot read, and after some tests, he is informed he actually has dyslexia.  In an emotional scene where he breaks down and shares his feelings about this, he says something that reminded me of when I was a kid.  He mentions how kids are broken into reading groups by levels when they are young and how nobody says anything about it, but everyone knows which groups are the smart kids versus the dumb kids (I paraphrased all of this).

It’s so true.  I was allowed to begin my fantastic school career at the age of four since my birthday fell a day before the cutoff date.  Being younger than everyone else didn’t matter so much later in life, but for the first few years of school, I felt behind in my ability to learn (probably just not mature enough- oddly, I still feel that way now sometimes about the maturity part), and I was placed into the One Potato, Two Potato reading group, with the bilingual kids and the kids who stuttered.  We were the lowest reading group and everyone knew it, especially me.  So, beginning in first grade, I felt I was stupid and I lacked self-confidence.

As an educator I absolutely understand the purpose behind grouping kids this way.  It makes it easier to focus on the needs of each child when they are grouped according to their levels in various subjects; it’s just too bad that these groups are so obvious to others and that kids in these groups begin to feel the labels define them, especially at such a young and developmentally formative age.  However, this doesn’t mean kids cannot overcome the stigma and grow out of these levels and labels.  It takes determination.

I always loved books.  I remember sitting on my mother’s lap, even before I was school-age, while she read nursery rhymes and Golden Books to me.  I remember pulling a stack of books off my bookshelves when my grandmother would visit, and making her read all of them to me.  I even remember when I began to recognize the words,  how I spent time pouring over every book on my bookshelves, and the excitement when a new Disney book would come in the mail each month for a period of my life.  I loved books with a passion that only grew as I grew.  I read myself to sleep quite often, and as I aged, I not only read until I fell asleep (though I fought it by using the one eye at a time method), but when I awoke the next morning, I often picked the book right back up, as long as it wasn’t a school day, because Mom would tell me I was dawdling.  I not only loved the stories, but I loved the way the words were put together to create these stories and the chance to learn new words.

My love of reading transferred into a love of writing and my reading and writing scores on standardized tests were in the above average range, yet I continued to be placed in the lower reading groups for some reason, so I continued to feel stupid.  When I moved to Virginia, I was never tested, nor were any scores taken into account; I was placed in the class that had room for a new kid in the middle of the year, with the kids who didn’t know how to pause at commas and stop at periods when reading aloud. It was so frustrating.  Finally, my freshman English teacher recognized my need to be in an advanced English class.  My self confidence grew and I finally realized I wasn’t stupid and was in fact more talented in that area of my life than any other. Now math was a totally different story…

My point?  Don’t let labels hold you back.  Do what you love with confidence because you never know where it can take you.

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My Sole Soul Mate

Posted on December 1, 2012 by caverns of my mind

hands

With the passing of Thanksgiving I’ve really been assessing how and why I am thankful.  One of the most essential parts of my life, and one for which I am truly thankful, is also one I often take for granted: Robert, my husband, the love of my life.  After 12 1/2 years of marriage, I realize I fall in love with him more all the time.  If you’re doing the math and have read my previous posts, you’re probably wondering how a woman who just turned 29 (for the 7th time) could possibly have been married for so long. I must have been a baby.

Indeed, we were practically infants.

Indeed, we were practically infants.

Seriously, I don’t know what either of us were thinking when we decided to get married at 21 (Robert) and 22 (me- yes, I’m the “older woman” by nine months).  I was graduating from college one day, and two weeks and a day later, I was married!  Then we moved 600 miles away less than two weeks after that.  I truly feel I began my life with Robert… my adult life anyway.

Just the beginning...

Just the beginning…

When we met, apparently Robert knew right away that I was “the one.”  I was less enlightened than this and fought the whole idea of romance at that time.  I had just decided I was happy without the complication of a boyfriend, but I’m glad I gave him a shot after all.  I cannot imagine my life without him, and how could I not be won over by such a romantic gentleman with whom I had so much in common?

Rockin' New Year's Eve Party 2010

Rockin’ New Year’s Eve Party 2010

I’m sure Robert knows me better than anyone, and still he sticks around.  Just kidding.  I’m actually really easy to get along with.  Since I’m an introvert, I tend to just keep the crazy inside most of the time, but I know he’s seen it and still loves me. In fact, as much as possible, Robert “gets me,” and he supports me.  Sometimes I feel like my ideas and dreams are crazy, but he has committed that we will stick together through it all.  Perhaps he should be committed for agreeing to that, but it makes me love and respect him more.

Micro-brew tour of Asheville, spring 2010

Micro-brew tour of Asheville, spring 2010

We’ve been through some rough patches, but we always make it through.  Some of these patches are private and not to be shared in a blog, and others include the frustration we faced a few years ago when Robert was unemployed for almost two years and we lived off my meager teacher’s salary.  We’ve heard of couples who don’t make it through stressful times like that, but we became closer in that time (we had more time to spend together- haha).

I gave this "love bug" to Robert when I first worked up the nerve to tell him I love him. She flew with me to Costa Rica last summer since he couldn't.

I gave this “love bug” to Robert when I first worked up the nerve to tell him I love him. She flew with me to Costa Rica last summer since he couldn’t.

During that time of unemployment, we read a book called The Five Love Languages, and we both discovered that spending quality time together was a primary love language for both of us.  I love quiet evenings at home watching movies with Robert, or spending time talking or being silly with each other and our kids (dogs).  When we were first married our work schedules kept us from seeing much of each other, and then I became a teacher and Robert felt like a widower.  That time when he was unemployed allowed us to get to know each other again and to spend what sometimes felt like too much quality time together.

Quality time with the dogs

Quality time with the dogs

I hear the complaints other married couples make of their spouses, but I really don’t have any serious issues with mine.  Sure, we squabble from time to time, but we talk and pray and work out our problems together.  It’s not perfect, but our marriage is solid.  We’ve learned to talk and listen, and sometimes just to hug it out.

We have been part of 2 200 mile relay races where we fundraised for Love 146, an abolitionist group we love.

We have been part of 2 200 mile relay races where we fundraised for Love 146, an abolitionist group we love.

Robert is a good man.  He’s loving, caring, a good leader, and a best friend.  Wherever he goes, people love him and look to him.   His heart is bigger than people can tell right away, and we share the same passions that make us happy as well as those that make us angry.  He is my other half, and I know God designed us for each other.

Garth Vader (Halloween in July in August party)

Garth Vader (Halloween in July in August party)

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Life of Pie

Posted on November 25, 2012 by caverns of my mind

As I gazed into my refrigerator,  scanning the array of splendor of my Thanksgiving leftovers, the slices from the peanut butter-chocolate pie my mother brought over to share for the holiday caught my attention, and I suddenly lost myself musing over pie.  I like pie.  I mean, I really like pie; however, I don’t eat it often.  It’s not always a convenient dessert choice when only two people live in my house.  It makes the rule my dad came up with of splitting desserts into as many pieces as there are people present to eat it a bit difficult.  Portion sizes are important and eating half a pie in one sitting is not a smart choice for anyone attempting to eat at least somewhat healthily.  Sigh.  And so, pie around here is a rarity.  We tend to go with candy bars or ice cream (a pint is a reasonable portion size, right?)

Then they occurred to me, the multifarious choices in the pie world, and that they do not have to be a dessert.  Sometimes pie is a meal.  Think about it: chicken pot pie, shepherd’s pie (yum!), minced meat pie (though I will not eat one- I saw Sweeney Todd), and pizza pie.  After all, “when the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore!” That’s right, pizza is a pie, and the possibilities are nearly endless when it comes to pizza, though I prefer to stick with my pepperoni… and maybe bacon.

This time of year, some pies are considered staples for the menu.  Sweet potato pie, pumpkin pie, and pecan pies adorn tables at holiday feasts; yet, somehow I missed these for Thanksgiving.  Now I feel almost un-American.  And speaking of American, homemade apple pie is always scrumptious, and can certainly be worked into this season, or any other for that matter.

Some pies are actually rather ambiguous.  Boston creams are mostly cake, right? And Moon Pies are really more of a couple of cookies slapped together with deliciousness and preservatives, and then dipped into chocolate.  And then cow pies are really not edible at all, so do not be fooled, no matter what an older sibling may tell you.  I’ve always thought cutie pies were much better, however also not edible.

This is my chance to shamelessly show off my adorable MJ. Cutie pie, right?

Then some pies are unmistakable and classic.  Any pie that can have meringue spread on top fits this definition, especially the lemon meringue pie, both sweet and tart all at once.  I once made a Key lime pie and juiced those tiny little limes myself.  The pie was worth all that work…once, but I’ll just use the bottled juice next time, thank you very much!

When I was a kid, I remember my mother making some kind of frozen pie with yogurt and Cool Whip, I think. Those were good.  I preferred to make pudding pies when I was a kid because they were so easy, and I always licked the beaters (I recommend always turning the mixer off first).  Chocolate pudding or butterscotch pudding with Cool Whip smothered on top were my most common flavors.  I always ordered the French Silk pie at a particular restaurant when I was a kid.  Of course, after reading The Help I’ll never look at chocolate pie the same again, and I think I’d prefer to make it myself from now on.

Over the years I have learned to appreciate a type of pie I did not respect as a child: banana cream.  What was I thinking before?  I missed out on so much goodness…and an excuse to eat Nilla Wafers.

“Simple Goodness” -just sayin’

On a side note, I’ve always thought it would be fun to engage in a pie fight.  Not at my house though.

(This post is brought to you by my growling stomach.)

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I’m as Thankful as a Turkey the Day after Thanksgiving

Posted on November 20, 2012 by caverns of my mind

This Thursday, US citizens will celebrate Thanksgiving, a national day of thanks, as we should, for all the blessings we have to be thankful for.  However, as so often happens, the true meaning and feeling of this holiday seems to have been forgotten and become commercialized, just as the one that soon follows it, or rather has been nearly skipped over, seen as merely a pit-stop on the journey to the next.  President Lincoln was the first to actually declare Thanksgiving as a holiday, though something similar had already been tradition in New England before that (the Pilgrim and Indian story we all grew up on), so we’ve been doing it for a while now.  The idea then was to give thanks for the Union during a war-weary time, to give hope.  Now the Union has been preserved for some time (though I guess not all states are cool with that anymore), and we’ve adapted the holiday as a day to be thankful for all we have.

Families come together and gorge themselves on turkey that makes us sleepy, children and adults alike watch a parade with giant balloons and Santa Clause, and fans cheer on favorite football teams until we all fall asleep from the turkey.  Then many prepare themselves for the craziness of “Black Friday” (which actually has a positive meaning though the name sounds so…dark), since it starts so early the next day.  And now some stores actually have taken to opening their doors on Thanksgiving to get a head start on making that crazy Black Friday money. Greed.

And so, with food hangovers, people wake up long before the daylight even thinks of shining, so they can spend money they don’t even have, because there are deals to be had on merchandise they don’t even need!  The sick irony of this is that by the time many people have maxed out their credit cards on these “awesome deals” on material objects (many of which will be re-gifted anyway), they will pay multiple times the amount they “saved” just trying to pay off the interest on the cards.  The term “Black Friday” comes from the idea that retailers are put back “in the black,” meaning their profits put them in the black rather than the losses of being “in the red.”  So the only ones really winning are the retailers, which is of course good for the economy, just not the individual’s bank account.

All of this greed has commercialized our holidays from the end of October through the end of December to the point that people working for such places are forced to work on the holidays (in this economy one does what the boss says without arguing), missing that quality time with family,  so other people can go out and get more in debt.  As I mentioned earlier, some retailers care so little for their employees that they begin their big sales on Thanksgiving, and shoppers feed into it, deciding to ignore the obvious idea that the people they are yelling at about “the sign said half off…” are missing their holiday.  Our perspectives are all wrong!

This important video may help open your eyes.  Please click and watch.

FWP’s Video

I encourage my readers to truly think about all you have. Here in the US even the poorest are generally more blessed than the majority of this world’s population.  But in many of those countries where people are “less blessed,” they are more thankful for what little they have, like their families, and shelters over their heads, if they have them.

I’ve been seeing on Facebook that people are posting something new they are thankful for each day.  I like that idea, even though I didn’t participate, but I’m going to list as many of them as I can think about now.  I am thankful for…

God, my creator, who loves and provides for me,

my husband who loves me unconditionally,

parents who raised me in love,

my family (even the ones who sometimes drive me nuts),

friends who are like family,

my dogs,

my freedom,

my church, epic,

my health,

my home,

two cars that are paid for,

employment for my husband and for me,

a talent in writing,

always having food when I’m hungry,

wonderful neighbors,

all my needs always being met,

having enough that I can give to others.

I don’t have all the luxuries I once thought were important, but I’ve also reached a point in my life where I’ve realized I’d rather have what I need and help others to have the same.  If we are blessed, we should bless others.  Dwell on what you do have instead of what you don’t.  Chances are that if you have the capability to be online reading this blog post right now, you are fairly well blessed.  Be thankful.

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If You’re Thankful and You Know It

Posted on November 19, 2012 by caverns of my mind

I just ran a three-day free promotion on my book.  It was both amazing and frightening as I watched the number of giveaways climb higher than I had expected. I was like a nervous mother watching my baby take her first steps (or so I imagine, since I don’t have any kids and all). So far the number of my actual sales has only been about 10 percent of what I just gave away for free!  It’s like I just gave away part of myself, and I’m not sure if I’m getting anything back yet or not.  Scary!  Either I’m really stupid and just forfeit some hard earned and much needed cash, or this was a great idea and now that so many people have my book, they’ll all tell their friends and write up great reviews on my book’s page on Amazon.

So, here’s hoping the second is true, and that is why I need your help.  If you are one of the people who took advantage of my book’s free promotion and you have enjoyed the book (or once you have a chance to read it, if you enjoy it), please say thanks to me by going to my book’s page and hitting the “like” button at the top. Then, if you loved the book, please write up a quick review.  This will help me make some actual sales.

In case you somehow missed it…  My book’s page at Amazon’s Kindle Store

I wrote the book because I love to write, but I would also love to spread the word more and make some sales.  I know the book is amazing, but I need other people to know it as well.  Word of mouth, Facebook shares, and good book reviews are some ways you can say, “Thanks for sharing your hard work and awesome book with me, Terri.”

And speaking of Facebook, if you aren’t my fan yet, go like my page now.  I want so much for people to like me, to really, really like me!

Thank you for your support.

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Why Buy the Cow if You Can Get the Milk for Free?

Posted on November 16, 2012 by caverns of my mind

Or why buy a book when you can get it for free? Ok, so it isn’t really the same thing, but now that I’ve got your attention I want to share the limited time free promotion for my book.  For a few days only Memoirs of an Ordinary Girl: the Middle-ish Ages will be available through Amazon’s Kindle… for absolutely nothing.

Why am I doing this?  I don’t know.  I guess with the holiday coming up next Thursday, I’m just feeling thankful and like giving.

Of course, you can always wait until the promotion is over and actually buy the book in order to show your thankfulness for my awesome writing talent.  It’s up to you.  Either way, I just want people reading it.

You can check out a few excerpts in some of my previous blog posts.  It’s a quick and humorous read, I promise.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008TT8Z6K

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My Spooktacular Birthday

Posted on October 31, 2012 by caverns of my mind

I’ve spent my life cringing every time someone says, “Your birthday’s on Halloween?  That must be so cool!”  Yeah, it ranks right up under having a Christmas birthday… and anything else that puts your special day as an after-thought.  Who doesn’t love being second place, or sometimes even being forgotten?

Click here to see what I feel like on most my birthdays.

What?  I sound bitter?  You bet I do!  Growing up, I always felt like all the other kids were having more fun than me on that day.  Oftentimes, even my birthday cards must be reminders that my birthday is just part of something obviously seen as much more extraordinary, like ghosts and witches, and sometimes black cats.  Apparently there are enough of us out there that the greeting card industry has designated a special line just for us… Oh, boy!  The solace I find in this  is that I may be able to find a support group.

My Halloween/birthdays were always so… awkward.  My family didn’t celebrate Halloween, and since I grew up where we had many Mormons at school, and they couldn’t say the “Pledge of Allegiance,” have candy from Halloween parties, or play in any reindeer games at Christmas, everyone thought I was Mormon too.  I’m not.  Never have been.  I even celebrated everything else (and proudly said the Pledge), but I had to try explaining that it was an evil holiday and I would happily eat cookies and candy, but I wouldn’t give out any (sure, I see the double standard now that I’m an adult).  Most people never got it, so Mom often decided to let me stay home on my birthday. Kinda cool, but then there was no chance anyone would remember my birthday.  You’ve got to have a presence, you know?

On my birthdays, my dad usually worked, and my mom and two sisters and I would shut the lights out for a few hours and pretend we weren’t home.  That always makes for a fun birthday evening.  You really can’t even light birthday cake candles then.

My best childhood birthday was spent in Hawaii on vacation.  It just happened to be a good time for Dad to take some vacation from work and for us to fly the family out easily on his United Airlines stand-by passes, but I told everyone in my class we were going for my birthday.  I figured they’d leave me alone about it and just be impressed.

I’m the cute little one in the middle. I believe I was 9 here.

Birthday parties were almost impossible (if your birthday is on Halloween, people want a Halloween themed birthday party, but again, I didn’t celebrate it), so I’ve only ever had two in my whole life, which is also the number of times I ever went trick-or-treating, but not in the same years.

Trick-or-treating at 16. We were a West Virginia couple/siblings and I got to be the husband/brother because I had short hair then.

If anyone would like to help me make up for my lost childhood of birthdays, I will gladly accept candy, checks, or cash.  Please do not send tacky party hats or Hallowbirthdayween cards (I’ve already had a lifetime of those).  I would like for my birthday to be all about ME.  Wow, do I feel better!

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Oh, the Horror!

Posted on October 27, 2012 by caverns of my mind

The title probably makes this seem scarier than it actually is, but who cares?  Made you look!

Seriously, I’ve never really been big on the whole Halloween thing.  The day holds something much more important to me and I really do not enjoy gross, scary stuff.  However, that didn’t stop me back in the day (sometime in high school or college) from writing a creepy little something, which I will now share with you.

I went for a walk at midnight, a ghastly hour for a walk by oneself, but a quiet time for thinking as well.  As I walked I saw an open gate in the soft moonlight, inviting me in.  I’d never noticed it before, so I wandered closer and peeked inside.  The yard was of reasonable size.  I decided to continue my walking through the yard, but crept along slowly, for I did not want to disturb anyone.

My neighborhood had been in peril for a few weeks now.  Every other day it seemed another person would disappear.  Nobody I was knew well was missing yet, so I felt fairly safe, for now.  My next door neighbor Mrs. Short, however, had gone shopping one day and not returned.

The moonlight was being eaten up by thick clouds above, and visibility was becoming obscured.  In an instant, I tripped over something and fell.  Not able to figure out my surroundings, I felt around for something to help myself up again.  I suddenly wanted nothing more than to get out of that mysterious yard before I was discovered.

Whatever I had tripped over was cold, stiff, and fleshy.  Slowly, the moonlight began to creep again through the yard, and I found myself holding onto a woman’s arm, reaching out from a mound of dirt.  Two feet away was a stone with the words, “Mrs. Short” engraved on it.  Then a door behind me burst open, and as the light flowed out I could see several headstones in a row, the last one bearing my own name!  As I turned to see who or what had opened the door, the moonlight and artificial light from the house mixed together, glinting off a knife coming towards me.  Then I awoke, safe and sound in my bed.

I know!  What a cop-out, right?  Also, why the heck would anyone take a casual stroll at midnight around a neighborhood where people are disappearing, especially into an unknown yard?  Another reason I cannot watch horror movies…stupid people.  You know what I mean, and if you don’t, please refer to the movie Scream where stupid people in horror movies is discussed.

Speaking of Scream, I must confess exactly how much I do not like being scared. I roomed with my oldest sister for a while during college and we rented the movie, watched it with all the lights on, and kept them all on when we went to bed that night… and maybe even the next night.  It’s okay to laugh.  I know most people do not find that movie very frightening, and it’s really almost more of a dark comedy, but it freaked me out anyway.  This is why Halloween is not my favorite holiday.  I’ll stick to celebrating my birthday that day and making the most out of my upcoming Christmas season.

For those of you who do enjoy Halloween, you may want to check out a video made by my friend.  He holds the secret to killing zombies.

 

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The Older I Get, the More I Keep Staying the Same Age

Posted on October 20, 2012 by caverns of my mind

I’m about to turn 29 for the 7th time. Can you believe it?

My original birthday: day one

I don’t feel that old, and thankfully, I apparently do not look it either.  Not that I really care about that too much.  After all, we all age, right?  Some people just seem to do it more quickly than others. I’m just fortunate that I’m what I like to call a “slow ager.”   Truthfully, I seldom feel like I’m older than I was when I graduated from high school… well, maybe from college.  I guess I always thought when I got to where I am now I’d feel so mature, but I just don’t.  Maybe it’s partially because I don’t have any kids.  Mothers always seem more mature because they have to be the grown up and raise others to be grown-ups, wipe noses and bottoms, threaten to pull over cars (or the dreaded mini-van-yuck!), kiss and bandage boo-boos…  I opted out of that (which is why I still drive a fun sports car). **side note- adoption is still not completely off the table, so I may get pay back for these comments**

7- but I guess you can see that for yourself

I’d like to think that if it weren’t for my students, I wouldn’t have any grey hairs.  I know that’s not true though, as I found my first grey when I was 23!  The nice lady cutting my hair a year or so ago also pointed out my “antique blonds,” but of course she wanted to appeal to my vanity so I would pay her to cover them over.  I decided to keep them.  They’ll just come back anyway, and with my hair down, they really aren’t too visible, so it’s no big deal…yet.  They just show I’ve lived a little, right?

11, I think. Candle positioning makes it difficult to count them.

I went into a liquor store the other day to buy some pumpkin beer, and a couple of the employees were pouring for a tasting.  When one young man asked to see my ID, I smiled and said, “I don’t get carded too often anymore.”  He replied that they have to card anyone who looks to be under 30, so I continued to smile because that meant he really thought I looked under 30.

13, and I look so thrilled about it

Also, older people tend to point out to me how young I am all the time, as if I really haven’t lived any of my life yet.  Sometimes it feels a bit demeaning because I think I’ve lived plenty, but I guess I’ll take that as a compliment as well.  I feel like I’m at a point in my life where I’m about to begin a new chapter (Ugh. That sounds so cliche), which is both exciting and frightening.  The paradox of the situation is that I feel too old to begin again, but not quite mature enough at the same time.  Sigh!

14

I can’t dwell on age though, because it’s all in one’s perspective.  Other than a few more creeks and pops in my joints from time to time, I still feel like a much younger person.

Thankfully for us all, I really don’t have many birthday photos of myself, or at least not many I would find.  I have one last birthday picture from before I moved away from my parents and became a real adult(ish).

19- I know this was a birthday pic because of the little pumpkins we’re wearing, and I was wearing a skirt (a rare sight). With Dez and Liz (makes me wish I had a Z in my name)

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