Yesterday was a chicken soup for the soul day. Chicken soup, plus a little gangsta RAP. Uncensored, baby!
Amazing how much a few swear words can help ease your pain.
That's right, I get the whole RAP appeal. Give me a little uncut Fort Minor Remember the Name once in a while and I'll give you a forty minor Molly Mormon mommy who knows how to get jiggy with it.
Yesterday was the state tennis tournament. In which my daughter and her partner were seated 2nd. Before. But not after.
That's alls I'm sayin' because around here the rocks talk and the trees whisper. Behind your back. Anonymously. And the proper authorities are always alerted.
I just don't want to be turned into stone, you get me? But if I do get turned into stone I hope I'm getting jiggy with it at the time.
When I was a teacher I used to show my class Robert Doisneau photos. He was that 20th century French photographer who wandered around the streets of Paris capturing photographic evidence of human nature. I like this one in particular:
This photo reveals the dichotomies of life in a nutshell. The simultaneous happy sadness of it all. The side by side fortune and misfortune. And the turning away. It's true that sometimes ignorance is bliss, but sometimes bliss is ignorance too.
Even though I did get a little jiggy with it over what went down with my daughter, it has made my stone cold heart swell to watch her muddle through it with so much grace and dignity.
See what I mean, even her shadow is bigger than her body.
The night before states my daughter went to Walmart and bought candy bars for all of her teammates. Their favorites. Then she bought more candy bars and made posters that said, It's Crunch time, Zero fear! She also wrote them each a personal letter. (All the while she was getting nani nani boo boo texts from a boy in the ward.)
Yesterday she went with her teamates to the state tournament and cheered them on. She came home with a headache, made a bowl of cake batter and retreated to the basement to watch reruns of Ghost Whisperer. All the teams she and her partner beat made it into semi-finals.
She then picked herself up and drove back to Walmart and bought a cake for her coach. And a tennis ball to have the whole team sign. This morning she woke up at 5 a.m. and went to the temple. Afterwards she bought French Toast from Kneaders and drove it to the one girl on her team who didn't make it to the semi-finals.
If she was still living the before she may have been too busy celebrating and congratulating herself to think of all that.
You get me?
My hub says this photos doesn't demonstrate the right form, but I think it's beautiful form, nonetheless.
It's funny. Whenever I start getting jiggy with it the Universe always feels bad and sends me an email. Or gives me a phone call. By proxy. (I think it's because the Universe doesn't like uncut rap music.)
First off, the Universe sent me two kind Facebook messages from two of my favorite students. That really took the edge off. And then Martha called and had her kids blow out my eardrum by screaming into the phone, "We just saw Justin Beiber on the beach!"
For some reason that took the edge off too.
Can I provide photographic evidence? Of course I can.
Wait, is that really Justin Beiber?
OMGOSH! It really is!
And the rumors are true. He really does use a pink and white striped towel.
You heard it here first, peeps.
I also got my first sponsor for my Blog Across America! Woohoo! It's a drug rehab center in Florida. How cool is that? Heck yea, I want a drug rehab center sponser. I'm all for drug rehab.
And finally, I got an email from Amanda, who nominated our first Magic Quilt recipients, Stan and Lila. Her email reached right past the gangsta rapper in me and poured chicken soup all over my troubled soul. It's about Stan. He is done with his battle. He passed away yesterday morning. Please come to my Magic Quilt blog for the a moment of silence for Stan, and to read the touching email.