Do Re Mi, ABC, 123, Baby You and Me Girl

Inevitably all friends eventually discuss their idiosyncrasies together.

My friend Corie has to have the volume on the television at a level divisible by 5. So, you know, the green notches that appear when you adjust the volume, have to be at 10, 15, 20, etc.

I have discovered (not discovered, maybe decided to embrace and admit to myself and to you privileged others) that when I watch TV I immediately turn to channel 23. That in itself is not weird at all. I think everyone has their preferred channel. The kicker is that then I proceed in, I kid you not, this exact order:

23, 24, 25, 26, 27

99, 98, 77

64

53, 52, 51, 50, 49

43, 42

(quickly through 41 and 40 to get to)

39, 38, 37

then to

3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12

and then back to 23.

It's like a really messed up version of Do Re Mi. I showed this to my mom the other night and she didn't bat an eye; she thought I was totally normal.

3 Hollas--aka Holla Holla Holla

Can I get a holla for Bill Bryson?

My neighbor and dear friend Carly (who will be home from Turkey in 6 days, holla!!) lent me his book, A Walk in the Woods, last year, and there were multiple occasions while reading it that I was lost in hysteria.

I was at a coffee shop with Riley and had my first outburst, and Riley, who is usually unaffected by my volume level/general-making-people-uncomfortableness, looked at me and asked, "Are you done?" I embarrassed the poor boy, and to be honest, I think he was more embarrassed for me.

Then, less than 48 hours later, Reggers and I were again reading side by side (yes, we are that naturally precious; and it doesn't hurt that we are practically twins) at home, and I reached a particular sentence--preceded by pages of hilarious paragraphage--that had me unable to do anything but laugh for two solid minutes. Riley demanded to know, "What is wrong with you??"

I'm telling you, people. Hilarious. I knew that I would become quickly addicted (and most of his books are about traveling and world/nationwide adventures, which I don't get to do a lot of, so I get jealous hearing about it), so I have avoided his collection for over a year now. But I came across The Lost Continent in the library two days ago, and caved and checked it out. Two years ago I read four Anne Lamott books in a row (with one Don Miller book in the middle--holla!) because I was, let's face it and go ahead and admit it, addicted. The obsession just swelled and I couldn't stop until I was finished reading every piece of nonfiction she had every published. Check. on that little to do item.

So here it comes. The Bill Bryson obsessive reading extravaganza madness rampage. Join me. (But read all of Anne Lamott and then Don Miller's books first. Then join me.)

Pillow Prayers

I am listening to Foo Fighters at 6 am.

That is because I did not sleep last night. Again. I finally gave up at 5 and got out of bed. This is the second time in 1 week that I haven't slept all night. I also just realized that I haven't eaten more than 2 little pieces of pizza and half a donut since around noon yesterday. You know when my neighbors say they worry about me, I usually roll my eyes, but sometimes I think they have a point.

In other news, Michael Jackson. Go ahead and judge me if you have strong opinions on the matter, but I am super sad about this. I don't care who you are, premature death is always going to cut me straight in the heart. Heath Ledger, Natasha Richardson, I still think about them and just have to stop in my tracks for a moment to fathom God's timing, His hugeness, His control, not ours.

I said a few real hard prayers this morning before deciding to call it quits in the snooze department, telling God I don't understand why he allows me to be deprived of sleep sometimes but asking me to trust Him. I know that probably sounds ridiculous to some of you, but guys, some days that is all I know. I guess I'd just rather go through it all, the sleepless nights, the angry days following, with someone else in charge. I never have been (to my knowledge) much of a control freak. Which works to my advantage, I think, in the believing in God department.

I am what we call an ENFP, for those of you Myers Briggs fans, which means I am extroverted, intuitive, feeling, and perceiving. For those of you who are not fellow M.B. freaks like me, ENFPs (along with other personalities, I won't steal all the thunder here) have a pretty rough go of it sometimes. For instance, our minds will not. shut. off. sometimes and we can't sleep. Then, because we're extroverts and friendly and addicted to people (yet here's the catch: we need time alone), our friends see us the next day and treat us normally. [Oh good, Bubbly Bailey's here, let's chat about her earrings, or the book she's reading, she's always so excited to chat.] So we have to be friendly in return, yet I'm not going to lie to you guys--we're gritting our teeth on those days, trying to keep it together, praying for a return to bed. And you know what's funny, just hilarious? Sometimes when you are free to return to that bed, after 36 hours of awakeness, you're not gonna believe this but it's true: you still can't fall asleep. Because you have new things to think about first.

I remember being in high school Sunday School class and we were talking about silence as a spiritual discipline. I asked, "what's that like?," and my youth director gave me a look of grave concern. Which is comforting at the age of 17.

So, my point (something ENFPs don't usually have nor feel the need to have, btw). While on the surface we may seem all together and happy-go-lucky, there is a lot going on under the surface there. Constant brainstorming, meditating, rethinking, evaluating relationships, examining of self. So go easy on the ENFPs, please.

Also, I hope this brief little bit of insight into my brain helps you understand why I have conversations with God at 3 am about sleep, instead of world peace, war, politics, issues of the church. Sometimes there is enough turmoil and dialogue in my head alone that I don't have room for the rest of the world. Which is why I pray for stillness, and silence. I pray you all receive the same.

I get overwhelmed trying to understand all the nooks and crannies of the whole Bible, so I often just hang out in the Psalms, where it's poetic and musical and cushy:

"Be still, and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10)

XYZ

There was a teacher in my high school who used to tell people wearing flip flops that their shoes were untied. People would always look down to check.

Birthday Boy Brad (1 day late)

Okay, Bailey made a big mistake. So yesterday was Brad's birthday!!!!!!!!!! Happy birthday, Brad!!!!!!!! Well I totally intended to make yesterday's post in honor of Brad, and I did not forget that it was his birthday, and I told him happy birthday, I just forgot to make the post all about him. But I had full intentions of doing so. So I know all of you are rolling your eyes at all the Brad talk in every post, but here are some of my favorite Brad memories. An anthology, if you will. This is an extremely abbreviated version, mind you:

One night, after the store was closed to customers, I was in the back doing dishes, and Brad was out front, screaming “My Heart Will Go On.” When he finished his concert, he said, “I am going on tour!”

Another night after we had clocked out, we made a French press of coffee and went out on the patio to drink it together. It was surprisingly cold, so we grabbed all of the sweatshirts that other employees had left behind and layered them on us. Of course, chance would have it, that I threw on the two sweatshirts that were five sizes too big for me, and he grabbed the size three junior girls sweatshirt and vest. “I feel so hot right now,” he said, and refused to switch with me.

I have perhaps a few inappropriate customer crushes, but there is one in particular who Brad likes to make fun of me for the most. Whenever this guy comes into the store, Brad will disappear to the back, and say things like, "Ooh, Mike*, you're so sexy, lookin' good tonight, [etc.]," so that I can hear it through the headset (that we wear for drive thru customers) while I am trying to talk to this guy. I have gotten used to this, so I will take my headset off right away because I cannot keep a straight face while he is saying these things. When said crush takes his seat with his drink, Brad will come out on the floor and pretend to reprimand me, "Bailey, I'm gonna need you to keep your headset on...[eye roll]...Yeah, thanks."

*not his real name

Love you, Braden, here's to many more b-days!

Mysterious Fascination

What is it about stickers that makes them so appealing?

Have you ever noticed this? Stickers are so exciting, yet they are a relatively cheap, simple item. I have only a few stickers in my possession and I hoard them. I don't remember the last time I put a sticker on a piece of paper or any other item. It's just too big of an event. It requires a lot of meditation. If I put this sticker here, it will be here forever, and if I change my mind about its placement, the only way to get it up is to chisel it off or destroy it with Goo Gone. The sticker will be nonexistent once it is removed. Stickers really just have one chance at life.

I had a sticker collection as a kid, and I honestly couldn't tell you what possessed me to get rid of it because I loved that collection, but I sold all of my stickers in one quick moment at a garage sale. I think a teacher took them, so I'm glad they went to a good home, but I still think about that.

Is anyone else this perplexed about stickers? There's just really something about a picture with an adhesive backing. I can't put my finger on it, and am far from finished wondering about it.

Kissing the Glass

There is a little boy who has come into the Starbucks store I work at three times now.

Time #1: Little boy enters with his dad and older brother. Dad sets up shop with his laptop, the older boy works on his homework. Little boy has stood himself up on a chair near the espresso bar and is having himself a little look-see at the counter. Brad told me later, "I looked over and this kid is hovering over the iced tea. For all I know he could have hocked a loogie in there." At one point the man and the little boy are outside, and basically the picture before me is the kid running around while the dad looks on. Honestly, it immediately reminded me of someone taking their dog outside, to get all that hyper energy out. The studious older boy remains inside, and he politely informs me and Brad, "That's my little brother outside. He's 5. He's licking the glass." Look over and sure enough, he is licking our window, looking inside at us.

Time #2: Male trio enters again. Little boy runs to our open-air, refrigerated case of bottled drinks in excitement, declaring "Daddy, I want this!" Upon reaching the case his little body completely lands inside the case, toppling bottles. Turns out he thought there was a glass cover and he was just planning on pointing to his drink, not actually dogpiling himself on top of it. His dad says, "Buddy, there's not glass there," and Brad comes laughing hysterically to me in the back room.

Time #3: Tonight. Male trio enters yet again. Little boy is thrown over his dad's shoulder, a little Fathers' Day fun. Dad puts the boy down on the ground, and he heads to the refrigerated case (at a slower pace this time). Katie and I exchange glances at the older boy's selection of a caffeinated frappuccino at 9:30 at night. A few minutes pass and then I notice the little boy's shirt. It is a KISS shirt. Awesome. Just when I thought this family couldn't get any crazier, they went ahead and proved me wrong. Thank you, boys, for the free entertainment.

Rescued Flushies

When I was in 6th grade, my class went on two field trips on Valentine's Day. In the afternoon we went to a museum, and as I recall there was a Chinese exhibit. In the morning? We went on a tour of...

the sewage treatment plant.

That's right. On Valentine's Day. That was the day that James brought flowers and maybe a teddy bear to Meryl, even though I had a big fat crush on him. But that's okay, he became my boyfriend in 7th grade, so we're all good now. So back to real sewage, and not my emotional sewage.

Some various memories from the trip: I remember our tour guide showed us some fish that they kept in one of the offices in a tank, fish who were flushed but became the pets of new owners. Rescued flushies, precious. He also shared with us a heartbreaking story about an iguana who was rescued, then one of the workers decided to clean his tank and cleaned it with bleach, so then Mr. Iguana died, and thus one hundred 6th graders cried during their field trip. I remember a circular pool, at one of the final stages when the water is relatively clean, with a horizontal sprinkler tracking over the top of the surface. But y'all know I am telling you about the clean parts. Let's get to the good stuff.

I remember the stench. My favorite, most lasting memory, is a vivid image I have of my math and science teacher, Mr. Morgan, openly smirking amidst the rest of us hysterically giggling 6th graders, observing one particularly large piece of poop on a conveyer belt, recently sifted out of the incoming water flow.

Mr. Morgan was a hysterical person as it was. He used to stand at the front of the classroom as we were doing silent study, shuffling our pages, scribbling answers in our Trapper Keepers. He would rock up and down on the balls of his feet, raising his heels a little and then touching them back to the floor. He would grit his teeth and ask us, "Do you know what I'm doing?...I'm intimidating you."

He had some sort of electric device (people I do not know what it was called), and he would have us stand in a circle holding hands, with two students' fingers on each end of the generator, and then he would wind the crank and a clicking electric tingle would run through us and scare the crap out of me.

His best trick by far, though, was his gas in the can prank. Early in the school year, he pulled out an empty Folgers coffee can, with the lid on, and a hole cut out of the side, toward the base. He took the can over to the gas pipeline that we would use for our bunsen burners and filled it with gas (methane? Again, don't know, not a scientist). Then he took a match or a lighter to the hole. We all gasped in true terror, and then laughed, relieved, when nothing happened. Then class carried on as usual. Eventually, about 20 minutes later, the lid of the can popped off into the air and we all jumped again. We all got a good scare, followed by a good laugh, most especially enjoyed by Mr. Morgan.

Months later he decides to pull the same trick again. We all think we are so cool at this point, we know what's going to happen, "Whatev, Mr. M, go ahead and light that thing, we're not scared." This time, though, after he lights the can, he tells the class we are going to read aloud from our textbook, as a group. This was another one of his favorite pasttimes--group reading. Especially on the days he was bored, I think, and didn't feel like teaching. We would go around the room, paragraph by paragraph, and as it was your turn you would have to stand with your textbook. I really never felt that he was a mean teacher, I don't think he was trying to mock or belittle us. I think he was just trying to have some fun, and it worked because we all thought he was hilarious. So when it was your turn to read, not only did you stand, but you read in a particular manner. Each textbook-reading-class-bonding-session would begin with some added scholarly instruction from Mr. Morgan. In his measured vocal gait he would command us to "read with feeling and emotion." About amoebas. And hydrogen. If anyone got too monotone in their performance, he would pipe up, "feeling and emotion!"

Mr. Morgan always liked to pick on Matt, because he liked him and he was kind of a trouble maker but not a horrible kid; a future heartbreaker. So during Operation Gas in a Can Take Two, he asks Matt to read. Matt hesitantly picks up his book, looks over his shoulder nervously at the can, and we all laugh. He shifts his weight to be able to look at the can while reading. Mr. Morgan says, "please look at your book, Matt," and we all laugh some more.

The best part of this all is, Mr. Morgan never bothered to explain the scientific scenario. Or maybe he did, and I was just so distracted by the hilarity of it all to ever bother taking notes on the chemical reaction. That sounds accurate.

Water Mane, Part 2

Raise your hand if you've been a slacker blog poster!! The hand is raised. Sorry y'all have been without a new post for a couple days.

Well one Braden expressed a little bit of angst that the water mane story was never told in full, so I would like to erase that angst by telling the story today. Grab some popcorn and get comfortable.

Ahem. Where did we leave off? Oh yes. 5:30 am (approx.). Steffie puts something in the trash can. She moves to tuck the can back underneath the counter and it falls over, forward. It hits the ground and it sounds like espresso beans fell out from the can onto the floor. Brad says, "Uh oh," and I think "uh oh." All of the sudden I am getting sprayed with water. I feel it before I see it. Brad and I are both confused. I am laughing. Steffie and I are screaming. I am picturing a broken pipe, a flood in the store, hot firemen coming to rescue us, going out for coffee after securing the hottie firemen's digits. (Even in a time of crisis, I am always trying to figure out how to secure a man's digits. I could be delirious in the ER, going under for surgery, and I would probably be batting my eyes, cracking a joke. Ridiculous, Bailey, ridiculous.)

Anyway. Eventually Steffie throws herself down underneath the counter, to find the source of the problem and stops it. I am still laughing. Brad is still confused. There is water on the floor and on the ceiling. Steffie runs to Brad for a hug and says, "I'm all wet!" Five minutes later, after we finally stop laughing, Brad and I complain about how hot the store is and Stef says, "Are you serious, guys? I am freezing!" Brad and I comment on how Stef should work for the Secret Service, seeing as how a) she understood what was going on while Brad and I stood dumbfounded, b) she acted within seconds, and c) she threw herself on that water the way someone would take a bullet for the Prez. I guess while we're assigning people to the Oval Office here, we'll make Brad the president and I'll be first lady. I hear she has a pretty sweet gig (and a private chef).

Anyway (again). What happened is this: There used to be an espresso machine on that counter, but it had been moved. The espresso machine is mostly an electrical device, but there is one line of water that runs through it to make the espresso shots and to rinse the machine at the end of each day. The water spigot for that machine is on the wall, close to the floor. It was turned off, but not capped off, so when the trash can hit the knob the water came out full force. Not only that, but there is a hole in the counter where the piping for the machine used to come through to hook up to the machine. So water was not only spewing out underneath the counter, it was shooting through the hole in the counter and hitting the ceiling. It was a powerful little sucker, that water line.

So there it is. The water mane break story. I hope it was amusing enough after all the build up. And here is the picture once again, taken seconds after the incident:

Hard Day

There are days in my life when my social skills just flee me. Scratch that. Perhaps the skills are still with me, I just choose to ignore their presence and my ability to use them.

There are times, like today (and this entire past week), where my heart is so very on my sleeve you can see it beating. And it's a grumpy heart. It's an annoyed heart that doesn't want to listen, it just wants to whine, and yell, and it sort of wants to be heard but it also wants people to go away. It is moody. It has had too much time with people and needs to hibernate.

It worries, it wants to cry but is too stressed to create tears. It tries to read, watch TV. It phones a friend, leaves a message, the friend calls back and now it has changed its mind that it really wants to talk to the friend. It loves the friend, but can't be a good friend in return at the moment.


It goes to work and sees other hearts hurting. This sends a message to the gut that says, "now we are more tense, and dinner will just be an option at this point; we don't feel like digesting." The heart reacts properly in the presence of others' distress, and does the right thing amidst its own stuff. So apparently it is still working, still capable of loving. It sighs. It knows this too shall pass, it just has to accept the fact that it can only beat so fast. It can race at moments, but that doesn't usually mean getting ahead.

Oldest Kid in the Family

People are often intimidated by pastors. You should never feel uncomfortable around my dad. The man is 60, and here he is being slimed by the children at his church's school. I'm my father's daughter for sure, and I know he enjoyed this activity. When we go to wedding receptions, it is often just me and him on the dance floor. He's pretty much awesome, and a total kid. Love ya, Pops.

Miss Bailey & the Books Half Read

Okay so I've decided that I've lost my energy for telling the water mane break story. So unless there are major protests, I'm going to post about something else. After all, I am in charge of this blog. (That sounded a little snotty, didn't it? Hmm.)

So is anyone else having a horrible time finding a book that they want to read? The last time I finished a book was early May. I think perhaps I have read so much that I have lost my excitement about any particular book, and I also haven't made a lot of time for reading so it is no longer a habit. This saddens me greatly, and also annoys the crap out of me. I keep picking up a book, read a few chapters, put it down, try another, same thing. Even the library doesn't get me excited, and Brad and I spent a whole hour in a bookstore on Friday and both of us left empty handed. Ridiculous.

Last night I started reading the novel How the Garcia Girls Lost Their Accents, and I've made it past page 50 so that's a good sign. I think I'm going to force myself to finish it. It's not even that I don't like these books I'm reading, I just can't seem to finish them. None of them suck me into their vortex of awesome reading pleasure. The Awesome Reading Pleasure Meter has been extremely low lately.

Riley and I went to this big used book sale last week, and I did find one of the greatest children's books ever, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of Nimh!!! So perhaps when I finish Garcia I will make that my next read. Mmm, what a great book! Mice, rats, cats, so descriptive, so adventurous, so entertaining. Loved it and still love it! Can I hear it for Miss Frisb? Holla!

Good luck to all of you in your book searches.

Sunrise Fountain

Today three big things happened.

One, I spent 12 hours with Brad.

Two, the Royals won!!

And three, there was a water mane break at 5:30am. Deets will follow tomorrow, but Beggers is tired (note time of water mane break) and would like to tell the story in full while not falling asleep upon her keyboard. She will supply you for now with amusing picture taken immediately following the break (photo credits go to Braden. Yours Truly is pictured in foreground. Standing is fellow barista Steffie, who was both the cause for the break as well as the hero who saved the day while the rest of us stood confused, frightened, or laughing. But I am getting ahead of myself):

High-Low

1. Low: Fighting with family is for sure in my top ten least favorite activities ever. Unfortunately I experienced a bit of it today. :( My family relationships are sacred to me, and if I had it my way there would never be an ill word between us. It breaks my heart every time opinions need to clash in the air between us. Sticky, bad air. Ugh.

2. High: I babysat for my 7-year-old friend "Steve" this afternoon, and we had some good times. At lunch he let out a big sigh over his mac & cheese (made my Yours Truly) and said, "I had a big day." Following lunch he introduced me to all of his stuffed animals. I met a pig, named Pig (who sometimes answers to Eggbert), a bobcat named Bob, and a blue dog named Blue Dog. Nice to meet you, Friends.

Boring post. Awesome picture.

My family likes to dance:

Write! Braden Braden Braden Braden Braden Braden Braden Write!

Brad has decided to enter the world of songwriting. He wrote his first hit a few weeks ago, entitled "Purple Rain." It goes, "purple rain comin' down, rain rain comin' down, comin' out of the sprinkla system."

Tonight he wrote "Dance Kitty:"

Dance

Kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty

Dance

Kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty kitty

Dance

Purr, purr

No no!

Dance

Kitty kitty kitty kitty

Let's all support Braden in his new career endeavor.

Quoth the Bailey

I took a class in college on Poe and Baudelaire.

I turned in my first paper and got a B.

The second paper assignment was a comparison of Poe and Baudelaire. Around midnight, my roommate was going to sleep and I was jealous of her slumber. Since Baudelaire was a poet, I said, "Claire? I think I'm going to write a poem instead of an essay." She said, "Go for it," which is one of the hundred reasons why I love her.

I turned the poem in (titled "A Poe-m") the next day face down so that the professor wouldn't hand it right back to me. I expected that he might ask me to rewrite it, but I really wanted to take a nap at that very moment, and I wanted a good 24 hours of freedom before the editing would have to begin.

I never had to rewrite it. I got an A. Following professors' instructions? Nevermore.

Lost

Kim leaves for the Peace Corps tomorrow. Corie leaves for Boston in August. The 'rents and sibs who I am so close to live hundreds of miles away from me. I won't lie, I'm feeling a little (or a lot) helpless at times. I fear what will happen to friendships, I fear that I will miss deadlines for big life choices for myself. Then I remember that God is in charge of the perfect timing and I am not, but for a person who doesn't consider herself a control freak, I guess I do desire a little bit of control in that area. It's not exactly a funny joke to me if I realize I should have taken the GRE 3 days ago in order to get into a program that starts in 2 years, and now I have to wait a whole extra year to apply (that didn't really happen, this is hypothetical. That said, I would not be even a little surprised if that did happen to me, hence my concern).

My mom was thinking out loud the other day and realized how long a year can be for someone in their lower 20s, and I was glad she had the epiphany because that is something I struggle for my elders to understand on a daily basis. To tell someone, "oh it's just a year of your life" when they are 24 years old: People. That is 1/24th of my life. To my dad that is only 1/60th of his life. Of course he can shrug it off better than I can. Hence my occasional panic attacks while steaming milk at work, feeling the sudden desperate need to run out the door, board a plane and fly to whatever city or country I want to spend my thirties in, chat up all the single men on the flight there, so that when we touch down I've got a diamond on my finger and we can cross that marriage step off the list.

This is not making a whole lot of sense.

I was telling my friend Brittani the other day that when I was growing up, I very rarely compared myself to others. Seriously. I walked into middle school and totally missed the memo about self-consciousness. I was like, "So...explain to me again why I'm supposed to stop enjoying myself because that girl has a boyfriend/is cuter than me/has more friends than me?" When I went to middle school I was so excited that I had seven teachers in one day. And a locker for my books? Sold. So really, it just didn't phase me. I think it's in my genes, particularly the set from Daddy. Dad's motto is, and it's not really a motto at all, it's a serious mantra for him: "Never give up your right to be easily entertained." What can I say? I'm a good listener, and an obedient one (note extreme enjoyment of locker ownership above).

But...in my twenties, it is SO HARD not to compare my life to others. I was talking to Kelly back in February, and he called me out on it and said, "Bailey, I'm hearing a lot of what your life isn't, but what about what your life is?" My answers to that question were a little lacking and therefore depressing, but it put things into perspective. All I seemed to be able to report to him was what my friends were up to--what made me jealous. In today's culture and world, you can do just about anything and everything when you're young. This is why all the older adults think it's so great to be this age (which, I'm sure the wise elders are right on a lot of things, I don't mean to get into a generation conflict here). I told Brittani, at my age I could be in the Peace Corps, married, single, with kids, without kids, in a steady job, in an unsteady job, in the Americorps, overseas, on the coast, in Kansas (check). The possibilities are endless.

Point being here, friends, this is what is on my heart. Just wanted to share--which is the point of this blog, so good work, Bails. Mission accomplished. I do hope that in reading, you guys come across feelings you can identify with (be it mad love for Celine Dion or frustrations in growing up). Much love and coalition to you.

Boyfriend(s)

Just had another (what count are we up to, Brad? 100? 200?) amazing late night convo with Braden. It was so late that driving home my heart was pounding because I was afraid my Mom would be up worrying, but luckily she was sleeping soundly.

Dibbs has just emerged from under my bed, where he was waiting for me. Now he is lying belly-up, ready for some petting.

Here's to Brad and Dibby: love you both. Tons-ies.

Me Sexy Elders

Let's hear it for amazing KC Irish music!

Tonight was bittersweet, in that I had to say goodbye to Kimberly who is heading to the Peace Corps :( , but oh boy did we have a good time before the sad hugs, at our little rockin' Irish concert!

The Elders are these cutie pie middle aged men who play these crazy, amazingly original Irish rock tunes. Let me just put it this way. Do you play the fiddle? Because it might be a turn on for this girl.

http://www.eldersmusic.com

I Got All my Sistas with Me!

I would be an entirely different person if I had a sister.

Not better, not worse, just so entirely different.

I am fascinated by sister relationships. In a lot of ways I think that they are more difficult and complicated than brother-sister or brother-brother relationships. I truly salute those sisters in the world who try to make their relationships work, who respect each other, honor each other even when it is their instinct to envy one another. In fact I certainly respect all siblings who are truly friends. I realize that is an extremely difficult reality in many cases, and takes many years for most to achieve (and was certainly true of me and my brothers), and I don't have disrespect for those who don't get along with their siblings. But I do think it is so important to keep contact with our brothers and sisters (and if we don't have any, to find surrogate sibs in the world). It's such a unique bond that God has given to us, and I pray for all of you that you can realize and get the opportunity to enjoy that.

So go give your nearest sib a kiss and a hug. (And for those of you without them, call me! Ahem, Braden--you know the number).

Dress Up and Find a Place to Go!

My mama bought me 3 delicious dresses today. One is orange, one is blue, and one is cranberry. I love them all.

I was putting them in my closet and realized the number of dresses in my collection is getting a little out of hand. I wonder if I'm up to 27 yet--I'm a little too scared to check.

When the movie 27 Dresses came out, my friend Corie and I went to see it with a group of girls, and we tried to get them all to wear formal dresses to the theater. No one was brave enough but us. That's right. We're awesome like that. And yes, people gave us weird looks, but you know how many other times I had the chance to wear that blue dress? Twice. And then I got rid of it. I'm gonna start wearing prom dresses to the grocery store, just to show them. I would wear them to work, but unfortunately there is a dress code there. Sigh...

Five O

Friends. Today is the day. This is the 50th post on The Daily Bailey! Thank you so much for reading! Someday when we are at post 8,000 you can say "I was a follower way back at post #50." To celebrate (and perhaps bore you a little bit), I am offering 50 random thoughts/things about me. Ciao until tomorrow!

1 I never get sick of the “Little Women” soundtrack.
2 Lynn’s daughter Claire gave me a kiss on the cheek today (and then ran away). She had been drinking apple juice so it was sticky. I had never realized how much she looks like Lynn until she got right up in my face to give me a kiss.
3 In fourth grade I put peanut butter on my armpits (and then ate it) in front of the whole school.
4 I look almost exactly like my brother Riley.
5 I have considered joining the ministry.
6 I secretly want to be on America’s Next Top Model.
7 I only like peanut butter about 2% of the time, and can only eat about a tablespoonful before I have to stop.
8 Green is my favorite color.
9 In middle school I wanted to be a dairy farmer in Canada.
10 I hate toffee nut flavoring.
11 I love lima beans, beets, and black jelly beans.
12 When I tell people I have three brothers, most of them immediately ask if I am the youngest (I am not).
13 I am terrified of peacocks and belly dancers, both for their sexual forwardness.
14 My favorite book ever is Traveling Mercies by Anne Lamott.
15 I hate to carry things or have things in my pockets.
16 I have never been stung by a bee.
17 I am extremely lazy. Truly. I sort of embrace it, but I’m also ashamed of it. Ironically I can be a very hard, tireless worker.

18 I lose my appetite when I'm scared, but gain one when I am bored.

19 I wish I could get lost dancing in a crowd of people every day.
20 I love to dance with my dad.
21 I hate the word “hubby."
22 I love the words “chevron,” “pedigree,” and “beleagured.”

23 I'm a definite advocate of seatbelts, sunscreen, and helmets.

24 I met Bob Dole in the second grade.

25 I love football. I dislike frisbee.

26 A kiss on the cheek (from anyone) makes me feel precious.

27 I am both a laidback free spirit as well as a contemplative crazy person.

28 I'm addicted to communication, but need my alone time every day.

29 I like when people are singing and the guitar stops playing and the voices continue a capella.

30 I find it fascinating that our toes naturally tap when we listen to music.

31 I think cows are beautiful animals.

32 I hate when I'm cold and have to pee at the same time.

33 I check people’s hands for wedding rings within the first 10 seconds of meeting them (both male and female).

34 I went almost 8 years without throwing up, threw up on Dec 19 2005, and haven’t thrown up since.
35 Beer is my preferred alcoholic beverage.
36 I feel off-balance if I don’t get a chance to read every day.
37 I have been on a rip-cord, jumped off a cliff (into water!), and ridden every roller coaster I have come across, but have not bungee jumped or gone sky diving.
38 My grandmother graduated from college at the age of 80.
39 I do not like to go to the doctor, but do not mind getting shots or getting my teeth cleaned.
40 I hope that the man I marry loves to cook.
41 I love children’s books. I also have a lot in common with the character Kristy Thomas in The Baby Sitters' Club series.
42 Rainy weather is my favorite kind.
43 I hope to live near water within five years.
44 In 2008 I threw away almost all of my jewelry and nail polish, then decided a few months later that I wanted them back.
45 I have worn makeup probably no more than 20 days of my entire life.
46 The song “Pomp and Circumstance” makes me cry. I hate attending graduations, but love to be the graduate.
47 I don’t know that I ever crave apples, but I eat them because I know they are good for me and I am not very creative with my produce selection.
48 When I was in preschool, my dad and I would recite our address and phone number, spell “SEARS,” and sing “There are Many Ways to say I love you” from Mister Rogers in the car.
49 The past few weeks I have changed bedrooms three times to accommodate for my guests, and Dibbs has found me each night to sleep with me.
50 I can’t believe I finished college almost three years ago.

Kelly Job Coach

My brother Kelly called me tonight with an urgent need to share his recent epiphanies concerning my future career. These are my three options (he didn't list law school but he has mentioned that in the past so I assume he would support that as a write-in):

nurse

special ed teacher

pastor or deaconess

I told him that he has a choice, and he can only choose one. He can either be in charge of my future career plans or in the selecting of my future husband (another area of my life he has strong opinions on). He chose Career Counselor. Hmm.