Marriage Matters

 

I was thinking this morning as I was cutting cantaloupe.  (I love cantaloupe.)  I was thinking about marriage.  When's the last time you heard a little kid playing on the playground holler that he wants to be a super duper awesome…. Husband?  Yeah, I've never heard that, and you know how much time I spend with kids.  Now, I haven't read Piper on marriage or Real Marriage by Driscoll or any of that.  Sheesh, I'm not even married, but it seems to me as an innocent bystander to the institution of marriage, IT'S PRETTY FLIPPING IMPORTANT.

Let's not even pull out the big guns yet.  Let's just talk about romance.  Choosing to stick with someone til death do you part, forsaking all others and toughing it out through sickness and health, feast and famine, laundry and dishes - now that's romantic.  Shakespeare didn't write Sonnet 116 because we're supposed to just date people forever.

it is an ever-fixed mark 

That looks on tempests and is never shaken...

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

Pasted from <http://www.shakespeare-online.com/sonnets/116.html>

Do we love fairytales because the prince rescues the princess from the dragon/villain/evil step-whoever/magic spell and takes her out to dinner?  NO!  We love it because they ride off into the sunset (however she manages that in her poofy princess dress), and they live happily ever after.  They don't live happily ever after because that was the last of the dragons or because the princess never burns the toast or because the prince never ever tracks mud into the palace.  They live happily ever after because they're together, they're committed, they're in for the long haul.

What about kids?  Think it's better if they have two married parents living at home?  Think it's better if they can enter adulthood without 12 suitcases of relational baggage from a divorce or a dysfunctional unmarried parents scenario?  Now, I get it.  Stuff happens.  People make the best out of the situations they have, but we're talking ideal situations here.  Practically speaking, it's just easier.  Coordinating who goes to whose house and who picks up whom when and for what holiday and who pays for gymnastics and baseball...  I had a student last year who switched houses EVERY DAY.  Let's just say she had a hard time keeping track of her homework. 

OK, big gun time.  Marriage is a picture of Christ and His Church.  God set it up as a sort of earthly analogy of the closeness we experience with Christ and the kind of sacrificial love that exists between Christ and His Church.  What do you think it says about the Church when our divorce rate is the same as everyone else's?  What are you saying about Christ with your marriage?  It's not just this thing that started out romantically, ended up with a few kids and a mortgage and is now this habit you'll probably maintain for a while. 

*brief hiatus for frustrated explosion*

MARRIAGE IS HARD.  I get it.  Life is easier if you just date people or cheat on people for other people or remain the eternal bachelor because you love drinking out of the milk jug.  Sometimes you lose sight of Ephesians 5 - "walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us… a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife… let each one of you love his wife as himself, and let the wife see that she respects her husband."  That's HARD.  It's natural to love yourself the most and hand out your leftovers to whoever's standing closest.  Loving someone as yourself is a supernatural crazy kind of love.  It's easy to lose the vision of marriage somewhere between making dinner and golf with the guy.  You get busy choosing paint colors for the living room or buying socks for the kids or doing dishes or figuring out where you're going to spend Christmas. 

But what if, aside from you walking with Jesus, your marriage is the most important thing you ever do?  Oh sure, your career is important.  Making that quota is of real long term value.  *Here's a tissue for my sarcasm splatter.*  Being on that non-profit committee is so great.  You racking up hours at the gym is super duper self-discipline.  I get it, we need to do stuff with our lives.  Big stuff.  Little stuff.  Middle stuff.  But shouldn't looking like Jesus and loving like Jesus be our first and main thing?  I'm not saying you can't love Jesus and be Committee Chairperson Extraordinaire, but if you think that takes precedent over your marriage because it's obviously more charitable and philanthropic, you've lost the vision of marriage. 

Sure, I'm not married, so for me, looking like and loving like Jesus is not going to look like nurturing a marriage.  (Sometimes I get frustrated because I'm not sure how to properly affirm and uphold the institution of marriage while simultaneously affirming the role of single people in the Church.)  But good heavens, married people, your marriages are important - not just because it's cheaper to be married or because it means you have someone to go to the movies with.  They're important because you're the picture people see of Christ and the Church!  I almost feel like buying some pompoms and being your personal cheer squad.  In no other relationship will you have the opportunity to show off God's grace and patience quite like the way you do in marriage. 

What would have to change for us to start hearing the veneration of marriage on the playground?  Married people, I think it starts with you.  You have to start believing your marriages matter, that the promise you made that day you walked down an aisle is STILL the most important promise you've ever made.  It's not just important to you.  It's important to culture, social norms, the Church, kids, single people, the economy.  We have to start talking about marriage like it's a good thing - not a rut, not a habit, not something to try when you hit 30 - but a good thing that's good for people.    

Do you get it yet?  Geez louise, I sure hope so.  Know that I'm on my knees for you and in your corner, but not even a fraction of the way Jesus is interceding for you. 

Go be awesome and married,

Little Miss Sunshine

4 Weddings in 4 Weekends, #4. Katie and Mark

The title of grand finale wedding in the four weekends four weddings tour goes to Katie and Mark.  I didn't plan it this way, but it's fitting because Katie holds a degree in Theater.  Thanks for that, Katie.  The week in between Audrey & Jordan and Katie & Mark, I got to hang out with my friends Hannah and Sam.  We crafted, watched Elementary, and did a little bargain hunting.  (Plato's Closet!)  (Hannah was my roommate in my senior year of college, and I was around when she in Sam were falling deeply, madly, truly in love.)

On our way to the rehearsal dinner, we were trying to guess what the menu would be.  The venue was a country club nestled in suburban Richardson.  I guessed we'd be eating country club chicken or salmon with the standard mixed vegetables and bread.  Sam was quick to say he wished they'd just serve BBQ instead.  Lo and behold, we walked in to great steaming dishes of brisket!  Hallelujah, no chicken breast and green beans!  I didn't make it to the food for a while because I was too socially distracted catching up with all our college friends that I hadn't seen in a while. 

The day of the wedding, I hung out with Sarah & Alex, who had driven up early from Houston.  We got ready together at The Heights Chapel before the ceremony.  The Chapel was the perfect Southern city wedding venue.  The tall wooden ceilings arched to form a peak, and the focal point were the quartet of stained glass windows at the front.  The ring bearer - the groom's nephew (who had just learned to walk a month before the wedding) made it down the long aisle without mishap and almost stole the show. 

The nine bridesmaids, dressed in punchy pink satin, and carrying a mix of hydrangeas, daisies and baby roses stood in couples with the nine groomsmen at the altar.  Katie, escorted by her brother, glowed in a sparkling strapless dress and classic scalloped lace veil.  During this part of the ceremony I like to watch the groom's face taking in his beautiful bride.  Mark, in his usual steady, quiet way, smiled and couldn't take his eyes off of her. 

 

The service was performed by one of our Bible professors from college, and the text was taken from a letter Katie's dad had written to her as a little girl.  You would have been hard pressed to find a dry eye.  After that, the bridal party prayed over them.  Watching my dear friends exchange vows, it felt surreal, these were my friends Mark and Katie!  Now they were suddenly grown up and married.  They recessed in a cloud of bliss amid decorous whoops and hollers from their friends.

From the Chapel, we drove to the reception, a ballroom with a sweeping staircase tucked away inconspicuously in Carollton.  Continuing the theme of serving unconventionally flavorful food, Mark and Katie treated us to a fajita bar and Southern sweet tea.  A DJ kept the dance floor teeming by mixing retro and current hits.  We wore ourselves out between feather-boa-swathed stints in the photo booth and kicking it on the dance floor.  (Have you ever tried doing the Wobble in 5 inch heels?)

We saw them off in a shower of cheers and white rose petals.  They took off for island paradise the next day on their Hawaiian honeymoon.  By now they're settling into their new Dallas digs and unwrapping towers of eggshell/ecru/champagne - white wrapped wedding presents. 

After wedding #4, I stayed with my friend Liz for a few days.  Her couch is fantastic.  She's off for the summer before starting her doctorate in English at SMU in the fall.  We watched Cool Hand Luke, slept in, went shopping and I got to sit in on this sermon at the Village while Liz worked in the nursery.  Liz is one of those slightly scary people that I love having in my life because she knows me so well.  We can talk about anything, and she can always tell when I'm not giving her the full story.  We even sipped sweet somethings through straws while we increased the melanin levels in our epidermis… ok, we drank soda and laid by the pool.  It was a great way to end the trip. 

I would tell you that I flew home and started crafting for my classroom next year, but that would be a lie.  I got in at midnight Wednesday night, got up at 6:30 Thursday, unpacked, did three loads of laundry, repacked and was back on the road by 1 for Jarrett's volleyball tournament in California.  

C'est la vie, and it's a good one.

Little Miss Sunshine

4 Weddings in 4 Weekends, #3. Audrey and Jordan

I'm not going to lie.  This post is going to be a difficult one to write, not because I'm lacking material or because I don't know the wedding party very well, but because the groom is my brother.  I fear it's going to be not unlike writing about one's own hand.  I mean, what is there to say about my hand?  Right now it's sporting this Essie peachy/pink polish and it has five fingers.  But then there's the way it conducts the music I'm listening to while I run, or the time it made Thanksgiving dinner in Australia or got burned this morning on the tea kettle.  At once, I have everything significant to say and have been struck inarticulate by plunging crevasse of detail.  Similarly, this post will either be boring and short or rich and long, well, I hope if it's long that it's rich.  If it's long and boring, you should go do something else. 

For the sake of linear chronology, I'll start with the adorable picnic themed rehearsal dinner my mother dear threw.  Aunt D, Uncle T, Aunt S, Gma and Papa were in town early, so they helped us set up in the tiny church sanctuary.  I put myself in charge of centerpieces, as I was being entirely un-helpful in deciding whether the tables should be in a horse shoe, rows, or the shape of a Christmas snowflake.  Somehow I find cutting diagonals on daisy stems therapeutic.  All the tables got arranged, red gingham was everywhere, and the daisies found their way into the Mason jars at the appropriate height.

That night, we practiced not tripping on the steps, processing and recessing in the correct order, and Noah James ran through the music.  Afterwards we dined on BBQ and sipped our sweet tea.  Then it was time for the speeches.  My younger younger brother, Jarrett, was the best man, so he went first.  He'd been telling me for weeks that he was just going to tell a funny story and keep it light.  Turns out, the only shred of truth in that was he told a story.  Oh, it was a nice story. He talked all about how he knew Audrey was the girl for Jordan when she got up one morning to watch he and Jarrett play sand volleyball at 4:30AM.  Solid choice, great for the occasion.  The trouble was, as he was talking, he paused, so I looked up, thinking he'd lost his place in his notes.  Nope, that 6'1" emotional rock of a brother of mine was tearing up talking about his brother getting married.  

I'm not going to describe my crying face at this point, one, because I wasn't looking at it, and two, because it wasn't a graceful cry.  After that, I kept up the ungraceful cry as Audrey's sister, Katherine, spoke as the maid of honor about what an amazing example her sister has been to her all these years.  I was a puddle of saltwater and mascara.  

Somehow we made it out the other side of dinner without too much tear-loss-induced dehydration.  That night, all the girls stayed at the reception venue, which also happened to be a sprawling Southern bed and breakfast.  The bachelorette party got a little wild, OK, we ate Oreos and drank sparkling cider.  The next morning we feasted on cinnamon cake, quiche, fruit, and coffee.  

The weather was far from cooperative, which we'd anticipated from the forecast.  I made two trips to Walmart for umbrellas, and almost drowned in the process- but that's inconsequential.  We went from wet to pretty over the course of a few hours thanks to Mary and Kate who were on hand for hair and makeup.  Our dresses were sea glass blue/green with a hint of grey, one shoulder, ruched at the natural waist and flowing barely past the knee.  The groomsmen wore grey vests and black ties over white button up shirts.  

The wedding venue was the university chapel - classically, beautifully Southern architecture marked by towering white pillars and red brick.  The pews were decked with daisy bouquets, Audrey's favorite flower. Clusters of creamy white pillar candles stood in the window sills.  When the time came for us to make our way down the aisle, we pep talked each other about how slowly to walk and where to hold our bouquets.  

Suddenly, we were all down front, and my little brother was saying his vows, the same ones we've been saying for hundreds of years.  Lots more happy proud big sister crying.  Suddenly Audrey was saying "I do" and they were exchanging rings.  Then it was "you may kiss your bride" and "may I present" and then it was over.  All those months of emails and details and planning and showers were over.  It was a wistful happy.  Emotions tend to be like that.  They aren't pure.  They're all thrown together like a cafeteria casserole, not that I really had time to analogize emotions and casseroles... 

We took a few family photos and piled into cars to make our way to the sprawling Southern B&B.  The wooden floors and ceilings glowed a red amber, there were daisies everywhere, and lots of people talking and laughing.  It was like the best kind of summer dinner party.  I don't think people usually throw garters and bouquets at summer dinner parties, but we did that too.  The cake was the pinnacle of buttercream-y-ness.  

It had all the basics of a great wedding, minus the torrential downpour, but beyond having a great structural event skeleton, the very heartbeat of Jordan and Audrey's wedding was beautiful.  I'm so glad to have a sister-in-law, and so glad they won't be living very far away.  

And they will live happily ever after.

Much love,

Little Miss Sunshine

4 Weddings in 4 Weekends, #2. Sarah and Alex

The venue Sarah and Alex chose was a local country club.  The ceremony was on the back stone patio, which overlooked the golf course.  They suspended tiny flower-filled vases from the wooden beams overhead.  Al that was beautiful, but the true piece de resistance was a rustic wooden cross that the florist had twined with vines and white blooms.  It stood as a stunning aesthetic and symbolic centerpiece at the altar.  We bridesmaids wore a combination of dresses in David's Bridal Peacock Blue and carried bouquets of yellow and white, showcasing ranunculus and fragrant freesias.  

After Carlie and Austin's wedding, I taught my very first last week of school [which will have its own post].  After the chaos of eating watermelon, passing out farewell presents and all manner of dramatic speeches and entreaties, I filled my arms with school supply remains.  I staggered out the front door with an over the shoulder farewell and half tumbled into my dad's XTerra.  He dropped me off at the airport to catch my 3:50 to Little Rock via DFW.  Wedding #2, here we go.

Well, I made it to DFW... eventually.  As we neared the airport, the captain came on air and uttered the traveler's death sentence: holding pattern.  Apparently there was a Texas sized downpour over Dallas, and the airport wasn't accepting any incoming flights.  We flew in circles for a while, but the weather didn't get our hint.  The pilot came on again and said we were down to our reserve tank of fuel, so we were going to Austin to refuel and wait out the storm.  I thought that would have been a pretty good idea, except that Austin is in the opposite direction of Sarah's wedding.  Much to my chagrin, we made it back to Dallas around 1AM.  Hasta la never, connection to Little Rock.  Thankfully, I have the best friends in the whole wide world, and one of them (thanks, Chris!) picked me up from the airport.

Our friends, the Paullings, have two extra guest rooms, so we stayed with them, planning to drive to Arkansas together the next morning [Chris's wife was already in Arkansas for the wedding].  Having been properly caffeinated and saying all the perfunctory exuberant hellos and hurrahyou'reheres, we hit the road for the far off land of Arkansas.  I missed the rehearsal and other festivities, but I did make it in time to brush on some makeup and coax some curl into my reluctant hair before pictures (Thanks, Mrs. Paulling!).

The bride and groom for wedding #2 are Sarah and Alex.  I met Sarah my freshman year of college.  She was also my travel buddy to Australia the year after we graduated.  Suffice it to say, she's one of my nearest and dearest and knows me better than most people on this planet.  Her fiancee, Alex, fell in love with her in 8th, wait for it, grade.  Yes, ladies and gents, they've been dating for roughly a decade. Alex popped the question with a sparkling solitaire, and Sarah's yes was out before you could say Jimminy Cricket.


Sarah walked in on her dad's arm to Pachelbel's Canon in D played by a string quartet.  Her dress was a simple A-line, strapless gown with delicate ruching on the bodice, sweetheart neckline and shimmering silvery gem-studded belt.  [I know, I could totally work for Say Yes to the Dress.]  The bride and groom, both adept writers, crafted their own vows in addition to the traditional "I do" and "with this ring".  They took Communion together and invited family members to the front to pray together for Sarah and Alex.  Yep, you caught me, I was crying.

After we all, uh, recessed, the bride and groom took a few photos with their families before we kicked off the party that was the reception.  As luck may have it, Sarah and Alex weren't into wedding chicken and green beans either, so they opted for fun hors d'oeuvres [what is it with French words having a million vowels?!] like chicken tenders, fruit, veggies, chips and guacamole!  Note - just serve food you like at your wedding!  Chances are, unless your taste is just weird, your guests will like it too.

The groom's aunt had crafted a scrapbook for the couple.  On the table were glue sticks, pens and pieces of cardstock with writing prompts like "What should Sarah and Alex name their children?" and "A word I would use to describe Alex is _______" and "My favorite part of today was ________" for guests to fill out and glue into the book.  What a fun way to engage your guests!  Speaking of guest engagement, they also had a photo booth with fabulous props and a canvas tree thumbprint guestbook.  And, no surprise, the cake was adorable.

Sarah made me promise not to let the dance floor become a barren wasteland of awkwardness, so I tore it up with Ian, my 76 year old Australian host dad [both sets of our host parents flew in for the wedding AND we live streamed it to our church in Australia - satellite wedding, anyone?], my friend Nate who taught me how to two step, my good natured groomsman, and random wedding guest guy.  Needless to say, the dance floor was well looked after.  Can you say Cupid Shuffle?

All in all, it was a fantastic wedding!

Much love,

Little Miss Sunshine

4 Weddings in 4 Weekends, #1. Carlie and Austin

I know some people [read: guys] think most weddings are a social convention that devour entire bank accounts and cause more female breakdowns than they'd care to clean up after.  The grooms I know are famously good sports and become well acquainted with colors they didn't know existed (what the heck is ochre, anyway?), the merits of Pachelbel's Canon in D, and the difference between tulle and toile.

I feel a bit differently about weddings.  Weddings are an intersection of almost all the things I love best in life - music, dancing, flowers, love, friends, family, dresses, food, tradition, innovation, and promises that God ordained to create marriages that look like His love for the church.  Culturally, they stand as one of our last symbols in support of marriage and family, with vows going back hundreds of years to Jolly Old England's Book of Common Prayer ("for better or for worse" sound familiar?).

Oh, sure, you can go to boring weddings, or stuffy weddings, or weddings that are just plain awkward, but weddings done well don't have to be any of those things.  Incidentally, they don't have to be expensive, either.

Well, friends, as the title suggests, I'm on the wedding circuit.  May 18 was number one of four in four consecutive weekends.  Huzzah!  Let's eat, drink, and get married!

Carlie and Austin
I've known Carlie since I was about 5 years old.  She was the spunkiest, most impish, adorable little tomboy you ever saw.  We were fast friends from day 1.  We've kept in touch in the last (oh dear heavens) almost 20 years by snail mail, family vacations and now, social media.  I met Austin over Spring Break, when I was in Colorado hanging out with Carlie and her family.  He loves Jesus and is head over heels for Carlie.  I was sold.

Two and a half months later, the parentals and I hopped on a jet plane and headed to our old stomping grounds in northern Colorado.  We wined and dined Friday night (ok, not really) at Beau Jo's Pizza in Ft. Collins, which I recommend without hesitation.  Saturday, we stopped by wedding HQ to lend a hand setting tables and fluffing tissue paper poofs.  Bride et al were in good spirits, there was no sign of stress, and all the details were falling into place.  We made our exit to don our dresses and tame our tresses.

The venue was the bride's parents' farm.  They set up rows of white chairs on the front lawn.  A flock of pink tulle-clad flower girls were herded down the aisle by Carlie's brother-in-law.  The bridesmaids, all in stunning charcoal grey maxi convertible dresses [read: long flowing dresses with straps that can tie in almost any way you can imagine] followed down the grassy aisle carrying bouquets they had made themselves from selections of calla, orchid, camellia and other yellow and pink blooms.  The bride walked down with her sweet father in a gorgeous dress with billowing skirt and classy lace shoulder straps.  It was an incredible transformation from barefoot, tree climbing little squirt to beautiful woman walking down the aisle on her father's arm.  (Though she hasn't grown out of the glint of mischief, it still sparkles in her brown eyes.)

All was calm, all was bright until... Colorado's unpredictable weather made an appearance and the wind began blowing sideways, a few notches up from "light spring breeze".  The wedding party was far from nonplussed, hair being tossed in the breeze.  Then we saw it.  About 5 fields away was a wall of water, and it wasn't standing still like Moses at the Red Sea.  It was steadily getting closer, and we knew if it reached us, we'd be soaked and freezing in seconds.

When it was about two fields away, almost as if they had choreographed it, or ordered it online from the weatherman, the wall of water slid to the side.  The gray clouds accumulating overhead parted, and the sun broke through.  It was a touch you could only hope for on your wedding day.  And yes, later there was a rainbow without the hassle of rain, so their wedding party shots are framed by a rainbow.  And yes, I'm serious.

The breeze was still a bit crisp, so we retreated to the reception tent that had been erected in the field next to the house.  Carlie and Austin love Greek food, so that's what they served.  I can speak from many run ins with wedding chicken and wedding green beans, pitas with hummus and salad were a refreshing twist on wedding fare.

And then, drum roll please, one of my favorite things in life - though they can be a real drag at weddings if your DJ doesn't know his bass from his treble - the dance floor.  Let me tell you, Carlie's and Austin's was packed the entire night.  We danced everything from the Cotton Eyed Joe to the Way You Look Tonight to Gangnam Style.  Even after we sent the bride and groom off, the party didn't end.  We cleaned up and went right back to the dance floor.  Carlie's dad pulled his truck into the tent and turned on the radio for us.  We danced until 1 in the morning.

It was a fantastic wedding to attend.

Much love,

Little Miss Sunshine

Venn Diagrams, Yoga Pants, and the Story of LMS's First Massage

I'm a girl, and I have friends.  I am not a nun.  We're not playing Guess Who, I'm just giving you a build up to the story I'm about to tell you… so the combination of those three things means that I have friends who get married.  When girls get married, there's all kinds of stuff to do.  I don't think guys do anything like this, but that's OK.  Next week, one of my sweet friends is getting married, and her MOH (maid of honor) organized a breakfast and massage for some of the friends this morning. 

I know my friend, which is a general prerequisite for friendship, but I didn't know who all would be there or her MOH, who's from out of town.  The text invite said wear comfy clothing because we'd be having an hour long relaxation and reflexology massage.  I tried my best to imagine a Venn diagram where comfy clothes intersected with young/artsy/slightlyhipster/professional/cool clothes intersected.  There wasn't much in my wardrobe that fit there.  I made a guess and went with a black vneck and some yoga pants.  [I don't really do yoga, and I don't really ever wear these pants, but I made an educated stab in the fashion darkness.]

From the breakfast place full of young/gorgeous/hipster/professional/cool people, we got in our cars and followed the blue GoogleMaps dot to the address of the place.  When I pulled in, I was skeptical.  It was an Asian strip mall with a market, nail places, shopping center, etc.  I called the MOH and she gave me the name of the place we were supposed to be.  It was called Thai Foot Massage.  Crestfallen is a bit of an understatement for the state of my face.  I'm sure foot massages are fine for most people, but when you're as ticklish as I am, the prospect of an hour long foot massage is essentially the same as water boarding. 

I walked in and resigned myself to 3600 seconds of tickling.  I signed some kind of waiver that I didn't read.  The desk attendant showed us into the back room.  We put our stuff in lockers, and she led us into a large room with high ceilings, chandeliers and white braided curtains hanging from wooden posts.  A row of beds was arranged along the wall.  At the sight of those beds, my hope revived.  Could it be?  Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be torture?  I put my feet in a hot bucket of water and laid down on one of the beds.  That is how the most relaxing hour of my life [to date] began. 

The easiest way to describe it is having someone do yoga to you.  I don't remember everything that happened, which makes me think I fell asleep during part of it, but I do remember a lot of stretching and massaging and feeling sleepily content.  (I looked like this chick, except there was plenty of clothing being worn.)  The one moment that nearly unraveled all my half-conscious bliss was the moment the woman stuck her fingers in my ears.  I went from "ahhhhhhhhh, I didn't know my jaw muscle was that tight" to "YIPES, WOMAN!  GETCHYOUR FINGERS OUTTA MY EARS!"  Don't know why that happened, but somehow I recovered. 

The woman pulling my heel straight up in the air and rubbing the heck out of my shoulder knots would intermittently make comments to the woman massaging my friend on my left.  I don't know what language it was - probably Thai.  I imagined they were saying something like "many are the lotus flowers when the Buddha gives his blessing" or "to the one who is hungry, every grain of rice is painted with gold", but I realized they were probably saying "dude, did you see that amazing hair tutorial I just pinned on Pinterest this morning?!" or "my new puppy just puked all over my white carpet, I can't believe it". 

After an hour of being pounded, stretched, and having an elbow dragged through my trapezius like a plow through a field, she said I was finished.  I don't know that it was exactly safe for me to drive home in such a relaxed state of delirium, but I did.  I made it alive and fell asleep on my bed, where I stayed for several hours, until I absolutely had  to get up. 

My name is Little Miss Sunshine, and I approve of massages.