The un-modesty shorts

I don't get out much.  So when new or recycled clothing trends hit, they hit me hard because I don't see the build up.  In the last month or so, I have noticed a rather irksome fashion trend that needs to be called out and put in its place.  This place would happen to be a dumpster or a fire.  I realize that I am not by any stretch of the imagination "fashion-forward," but even a blind man can see this refurbished fashion has got to go.
When Brandon and I were on our date night to see Date Night (pretty funny), I assumed that the first time I saw the fashion faux pas must have just come about from an overly-excited "Sex in the City" movie fanatic (it was opening night for that show).  But then, I saw another lady roaming around in a similar get-up, and then a third lady.  Brandon and I were both disgusted, but we shrugged it off and forgot about it.
A few days later we took Noah to an amusement park.  On that day, I knew then that I pitied our culture.  While I was waiting for Brandon to park the car, I noticed at least two more fashion victims in line for tickets.  As we entered the park, the trend was now clear.  I have never seen such a sea of cellulite.   
In an earlier post this week about the importance of teaching children modesty.  One main reason we ladies need to be modest in apparel is to protect men from their own lusts.  However, in the case of this garment, modesty would have saved these ladies shame and embarrassment, emphasis on the penultimate syllable of the word.
Listen ladies, it may have looked cute on you when you were in your infancy, but now it is time to say good-bye and good riddance.
Just say no to rompers and make America a "no junk in the trunk-zone."        

  

Shaving off my dreads while spraying the crops

When I moved to Bloomington, I met a new breed of people.  These people, most commonly known as hippies, opened up a whole new world of limited bathing, soap crafts, illegal train trestle hiking, baking with whole wheat flour, and public breast-feeding.  In my heart, I desired to be like these free birds.  When one lives in Bloomington as long as I had, you start believing that the townies can change you into a hippie with their special mind powers.  But as hard as I tried to be something I'm not, it is just too easy to be me.  You can dress me down in a moo-moo, hand me a stick of all-natural mango-scented deodorant, and pierce me with a nose-ring, but at the end of the day I'm still going to go mall-walking, put too many layers of clothes on my son, and eat non-organic food.  Yes, sadly it is true: I am from the suburbs.   
My first epiphany that I indeed could not escape my suburban heritage came about through a baby shower gift I received from my hippie friends from Bloomington.  Yes, I registered for the gift because I thought I could handle being a hippie, but boy was I wrong.  All of my suburbanite friends would laugh as I would struggle to wrap this piece of clothe around my body to become a mommy kangaroo.  I didn't want to register for the more expensive, more diva-esque BABYBJÖRN Baby Carrier Synergy - Black because I thought I was too non-conformist for that carrier.  Now I realize, I'm not a beatnik and I need expensive items because I am actually a diva.  In hindsight, the fact that I even spent time creating a registry at Babies R' Us should have tipped me off to the fact that I'm not a hippie.
My second epiphany occurred when I had this hankering to learn how to play acoustic guitar.  I thought to myself, I'm a musician and I like female acoustic guitar-chic music, so I should have my husband teach me how to play.  That desire lasted about five minutes until my delicate porcelain fingertips started to throb from pressing down onto the strings.  I am from the suburbs and I do not tolerate pain.  Can someone please pass me an epidural?   

My final revelation came about through a ferocious desire to grow a vegetable garden at our new house (picture is of our glorious back yard).  I would day dream about my grand garden overflowing with sweet potatoes and cucumbers.  Once the time came to prepare the land, my husband and I went to the local garden shop to ask questions and get the correct kind of nutrients for the soil.  The season for planting had not yet arrived, but it was a nice enough day to start the ground work.  So when we returned to our home, we began the work immediately.  As I sunk the shovel into the ground, my ferocity quickly turned into feebleness.  I realized that I never had a day dream about dirt, and sweating, and sore backs, and...ew! worms.  Didn't they get the memo?  Bugs are prohibited in the suburbs.  That's why I moved back.  I heart pesticides. 
After years of grasping at the unattainable, I can finally admit to myself that this aspect of myself is never going to change and I should celebrate all the suburban inside of me.  This is who I am and I'm here to stay.  I'm a suburbanite, hear me roar!
 God loves us for who we are.  While He certainly expects us to change our sinful ways once we have been saved by grace, we are made in His image and should celebrate who God has designed us to be.  Do you ever try to be something you're not?  Do you ever have unrealistic expectations of whom you would like to become?  Let me hear about your story.  

Pluto is not a planet and I actually do need my appendix

When I read science articles on Yahoo.com, I love how evolution is always the starting point. Opening paragraphs often begin with words like, "Because of evolution...Due to the evolution...Of course, evolution proves...". You could really fill in the blank with the rest of the sentence: "Because of evolution, all humans will be the color green in 15 million years." "Because of evolution, I ate your cat." Sounds ridiculous, right? Well, guess what? That previously useless appendage known as the appendix- well, Darwin was wrong!!! My farvorite line of the article is this one:

"We're not saying that Darwin's idea of evolution is wrong - that would be absurd, as we're using his ideas on evolution to do this work," Parker told LiveScience. "It's just that Darwin simply didn't have the information we have now."

That would be absurd, huh? Not as absurd as thinking there are 9 planets in our solar system! The fools.

Crocs going out of style and out of business

Gee, didn't see that one coming. I'm sorry, but Crocs are the butt-ugliest fashion ever created by man, and yes, I am counting all the disgusto-fashion of the 80's. I don't care if they are comfortable, indestructible, or give you super powers- they're shoes. If they look gross, don't wear them. I hope for the economoy's sake and for all of Croc's employees that they don't go bust, but in any other situation I would hope for all of the Crocs to be set aflame and burn, burn, burn evermore until one day my Husband wakes up and goes to class and makes a reference to Crocs and all his 8th-graders laugh at him and ask, "Profe, what are Crocs?" For all of my many readers, you know that I haven't written on this blog about anything other than Noah for a long, long time. So, now you know how much I despise that fugly fad.