Imagine. If we’d never declared independence from the British we’d (likely) never have had the south, big hair, tacky sequined vests, and the great American creation — Glamour Shots.

Have a great, safe weekend!

As a kid, I didn’t get in a lot of trouble. Go ahead, ask my brothers. They’ll tell you I was spoiled and received preferential treatment because I was the oldest and the only girl.

I’ll tell you I didn’t do stupid stuff.

Okay, there was that one time when I was 5 and decided to launch rocks over the house with my little shovel. It was a feat of engineering for someone my age. Mom didn’t see it that way when one of the rocks came crashing through the front window. Oops.

But seriously. I was well-behaved. My brothers were…boys. Kyle and I are 18 months apart and Ryan is 2 and 1/2 years younger than him so we’re stair-stepped pretty nicely. From the start, right after Ryan was born, I was placed in the middle and it was for a reason. Then it was because they were both in car seats and I was the only one who could wear a seatbelt. After they both grew out of their car seats it was because they would go after each other like a pair of rabid wolverines. 

Kyle and Ryan bickered and picked at each other like there was nothing more fun in the world. Back and forth, all the way to church and from; on the way to school and on the way home; roadtrips — forget roadtrips. Those were the worst. “Stop touching me!” “You’re too close to me!” “He’s got more leg room!” “I want to sit on this side!” “No, I called it first!”

Gripe gripe gripe gripe gripe. My parents wonder why I was so bossy. I felt like a referee in the middle of that mess! And everyone knows that the person in the middle is the one suffering. Four words — feet on the hump.

The fact that I was in the middle never did what Mom and Dad intended (reduce the number of fights between them). Instead, I was just caught in the middle. After a while I think I started finding humor in it. I could get away with a lot of tiny things because my brothers were always going at it and my parents were too busy scolding them. I am what my dad calls “a pot-stirrer.” I might not have been in the fight, but I was definitely fueling the fire.

One evening, we were on our way back from The City and I don’t remember the exact circumstances, but what I do know is that my dad had had enough. The boys were fighting, we were almost home, and it had been a long day. And Kyle had one of his favorite G.I. Joes with him. Flint.

Flint had this awesome pack he wore (pictured above) that you could fill with water and he would shoot eco terrorists. With water. (Sidenote: The Gulf Coast could really use you right now, Flint.) He also had “color-change battle damage.” You know, the same old thing that happens to you when you get covered in toxic waste, acid, deadly oil spills, etc. So that was pretty cool. We all liked Flint. Personally, I liked to put his helmet on my finger and play like he was a little puppet.

Kyle, however, liked to put the helmet in his mouth. Now, he was still pretty young and those little pieces are choking hazards no matter what the age. For Dad it was probably a combination of that and the fact that everyone had been touching that helmet. Germs are not something you mess with in this family. And like I already said, Dad had enough. Enough. When that word came out of my dad’s mouth, you knew it was serious. And he had told Kyle twice already to get that helmet out of his mouth.

I think the threat had already been made. When Dad looked in the rearview mirror and saw the helmet on the tip of Kyle’s tongue for the third time, he said, “Give it here.”

Hand it over he did because there was no more messing around at this point. Down rolled the window and out flew the helmet. There may have been tears, I don’t remember, but things were never the same. What is an Eco Warrior without his helmet? He faces a world with traumatic brain injuries and deadly poisons seeping into his gray matter around every corner. And so he retired. I’m sure he still saw some terrorist fighting action, but not as much. Eco Warrior Flint was the first G.I. Joe I remember the boys having that had gear of any kind that you could control. Not long after, he was relegated to a life unfitting for any G.I. Joe at Sudsy Waters Seaside Retirement Village and Bath Tub with Moosel the Wuzzle.

Brr.

Okay folks. (I had a teacher in 8th grade who said that to get our attention. And then just got louder until we shut up. Folks. FOLKS.)

It’s freezing out there. Where I’m sitting in Norman it’s currently 18° F with a windchill of -1° F. Winds have picked up to almost 30 miles per hour here this morning.

Need I say, BRR again?

The puppy, who is usually an outside critter, has been spending the last few days indoors in the evening. Today, tomorrow, and likely Saturday she will be inside all day. I noticed her morning tinkle break took a whole lot less time today. That and now I’m thinking she may not be the early riser that I am. Brought the girl back in and she settled in on her pillow here in the living room to head back to dreamland. Lucky dog.

In the meantime, Kevin and I will be getting ready for the day and heading to work at school. Our district is one of the ones that has chosen not to close this morning, but there are many around the OKC metro area that called their closing yesterday. More have been added to that list this morning. I hear complaints from people raised in other areas of the country that they dealt with temperatures and conditions much lower when they were in school. You know, your typical, “I walked to school in 3′ of snow, uphill both ways!” Yeah, okay. This is Oklahoma. A lot of these kids live below the poverty line and don’t have pants to put on today before they walk to school. I think people might be surprised at the number of kids who wear shorts year-round. And maybe a hoodie. The fact is that not all these kids are prepared and I feel like the Oklahoma City and Edmond districts made a smart decision in closing for the cold temps. The students are the most important thing to consider in a situation like this, not whether mom and dad are going to be late to work because they have to drop them off somewhere or find a sitter. Kids who have a regular ride to school and their parents might not understand the necessity of closing, but if you were in the group that had no choice but to walk and had no parent or family member who cared to clothe you or make sure you had a safe way to get to school, I think you might get an idea.

Now I’m having coffee. And putting on a parka.

I was walking down the aisle on my dad’s arm. The moment I had dreamed of since I was 2-years-old (no lie) was here and very different than I had imagined it. You see, by this point I thought I would be crying. In fact, it’s what I was dreading about the whole thing: getting up in front of all these people and crying so much that they couldn’t understand what I was saying.

But there I was, walking. And there Kevin was, standing at the end of the aisle. It was all so surreal. Instead of looking around to see who was there, like I’d thought I might, I was looking straight ahead, focused on my goal. At this point our ring bearer was pretty raucous down in front of the stage, but Heather finally managed to grab him. When we arrived at the front I kissed my mom on the cheek and then proceeded with Dad to be given away.

I’ll let the video say the rest.

A few things to explain: the violins (that I walked down the aisle to) were not miked and neither was the piano during the lighting of the unity candle. Both were plenty loud during the ceremony, that was just one detail that was forgotten. Scott (vocalist & pianist) did a fantastic job on the song. And my blinking during the vows, well, all I can guess is that I was trying not to cry and I was really focusing on what I was saying. Oh, and my veil almost fell out. Dad got a little too enthusiastic when he lifted it. Surprise! I never cried.

Bridal Chorus as it sounded at the wedding (minus the cello, we had two violins, played by Jennifer White and Kevin Lai):

I’m dedicating this one to my brother Kyle, because he was obsessed with watching Captain Bucky O’Hare for a period of time. It came on Sunday mornings and he had this coloring book that he would carry around…a lot of places. This was also around the time that he was always wearing the yellow (I think? Correct me if I’m wrong on that one) ball cap, olive green quilted vest, and either black or red cowboy boots. He was like 4 or 5. Man. There’s video of that ensemble somewhere.

This guy spent about as much time telling me and millions of other kids how things work as he did completely freaking me out. I’m talking about “Beakman” who starred on Beakman’s World (which I believe aired on CBS Kids on Saturday mornings). I guess the appeal may be in the grossness of the program. Nasty sound effects are endless in any of these clips. The one I’m posting is particularly “tooty.” Or as we called them in my household when I was a kid, “uh-ohs.” Not kidding.

UPDATE: Looks like this show is still airing. Click here to find out if it’s available in your area.

Threatening Your Grandmother With “No Storytelling” To Get Your Little Brother To Leave You Alone

I still pout the same way (can’t keep a straight face if I’m pretending) and sometimes my bottom lip sticks out involuntarily when I am sad, but I’m not quite as manipulative.

(Kyle, if you are reading this, I have tried to keep you out of this as much as possible since I know you don’t like it. But if you’re cool with Bethlehem now that you are 21-years-old and not 2.4 years, then we can talk. Not going to post that one without your permission. Because you are wearing little underpants.)

My Christmas gift to you: me, telling the Christmas story to my grandparents, aunt, and uncle. It’s basically me making a lot of excuses, stalling for time, and thinking of things as I go along.

It’s freezing in here. Going to turn up the heat.

All right, that’s better. Coffee is brewing and I’m wide-awake, looking outside at the extraordinary cloud of fog that has gathered in my backyard, and likely the rest of Norman this morning. Clare has been sitting on the back step staring out into the soupy white abyss all morning. I think this is the first fog she’s seen. Also, this appears to be the morning that the leaves in my trees decided they were going to fall. At least the tree closest to the house. So many of them are falling from the top limbs that it sounds like it’s sprinkling outside.

As you know, Kevin and I dressed as McCain and Palin for Halloween this year. I will admit right now that I have nothing on this girl, but that I plan to produce a few of these in the future:

• McDonald’s stops offering free cups of water. Isn’t this against the law in some places? Once when I was at Six Flags Over Texas in Arlington, everyone was getting water for free because not long before a woman had died after they had refused to give her water during a heat stroke or something. Hmm. I just always thought you couldn’t get away with refusing someone a cup of water.
• Go vote on Tuesday and then get yourself some free coffee. But please go listen to Cindy before you do. I’m going to wait until the evening to get mine, because I know I’ll be up all night.
• What it’s like to be a woman. Unless you’ve never struggled with your weight. Then…psh. About to share something that is probably TMI (that’s “Too Much Information”, Mom)–Heather, remember that time I wore that tank top to bed that had the built in sports bra and thought I was going to choke to death in my sleep? Yeah, that was funny. And similar.
• The 10 Cannots by William J. H. Boetcker. “You cannot strengthen the weak by weakening the strong.”
• My fellow Republicans, the time is NOW. “If you decide upon a third party in protest, you are casting a vote for Barack Obama.”
• I don’t really mind modern versions of Christmas songs, but seriously, that “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” by the Barenaked Ladies and Sarah McLachlan needs to be put down in the back pasture and left on the hill to attract flies and dry out.
• Obama’s coronation outfit. And how his followers are like people stumbling around in basement in a horror flick, saying, “who’s there?” and moving toward the sound instead of RUNNING AWAY AND SAVING THEIR FAMILY.
• Jeremiah Wright planted a “seed of faith” in Barack Obama.
• “Go ahead and call me racist. I don’t care. I’m not voting Barack.”
• Making the world a weirder place. Starting with my eBay package.
• Forget getting answers before Wednesday. Barack Obama won’t be answering questions until after the election. Score.
• Pay attention:

And on one last, bitter note this Sunday morning…I do not expect to change anyone’s mind at this point. Not at all. But you bet your sweet buttons I will be blaming you for the next four years.

If you’re fine selling American to the highest bidder, you are a fool.
If you’re fine with voting for someone with shady (at best) associations, let it be on your head. (If a homegrown terrorist had killed one of your family members, where would you stand?)
If you’re fine with voting for someone who has no qualms with letting a baby, born alive, die, let their final whimpers echo in your mind when you dream. (Tell me, when does your child or grandchild become a person? The moment they emerge into open air? Or the moment you find out that, miraculously, a minute speck of endless possibility–a HUMAN BEING–is thriving inside your body or that of a family member?)

These are part of a low-carb diet, right? Because they look absolutely scrumptious.

Longies, by Green Way Babywear