The Alchemy of Social Instigation

A good party, in my opinion, is magical.  It could be a backyard bonfire under Texas stars, a sparkling masquerade party or a nostalgic going away party.  Whatever the case may be, there is something that comes together to turn chips and salsa, an ordinary room, and a group of humans into memory gold.  I've always been the social instigator in my sets of friends growing up.  I've thrown some frolicking rolicking good parties, and I've also had my fair share of flops.  The chemistry behind a good party has always intrigued me.  What's the perfect formula?  What person can make or break a party?  Will it change anything if I serve apples instead of Oreos?


Curious to hear other perspectives on this social alchemy, I talked my friend Brian into doing an interview.  Being a social instigator himself, I knew he would have some insight into the whole process...

Tell us a little about yourself (name, age, occupation, hobbies, quirky things,
whatever):

My name is Brian Good. I’m 23 years young. I’m told I have a big boy job. At least, I like to think I have a big boy job. I dress up decently nice and have a desk - thus equals “big boy job.” I
currently work as an intern at DriveTime as a Retail Ops Specialist until I finish up my final year at the wonderful and oh-so classy ASU.

Quirky things? I love to scrape and eat the toppings off my pizza before I eat the actual pizza.
Other than that, I am the most un-normal person you will every meet.

Do you consider yourself the social instigator when it comes to getting your friends
off their couches and into something awesome?

I say this time and time again. If it wasn’t for me, my friends would have no social lives whatsoever. Yes I am the instigator and it sucks. If I don’t think of something to do, we typically don’t
do anything. I love having that power, but if there’s one thing I have learned as I get older, it’s that responsibility SUCKS. No thanks.

So do I like? No. I love it.

Have you ever had an epic party fail?

Parties are for college kids. All I have is budget meetings.

What are the magical ingredients to social events? Is there some kind of super formula that will guarantee my next event will be awesome?
It’s all about the ratio. When you want to throw a decent party, you need to have a good guy-to-girl ratio. If it’s a bro fest, no one is ever gonna have fun - but me.

What guarantees a good girl turn-out? Katy Perry and disgustingly fruity drinks. That’s my trade secret. Enjoy.

What, in your opinion is the biggest party killer?

That weird kid that your friend’s friend brings. All he does is creep your friends out and drink your partying supplies.

Have you noticed certain stereotypes of parties or people at social events that you
find hilarious or intriguing?

Specifically NAU students and frat kids. NAU kids are the coolest dorks. Ever. Their parties are decent if Ugg boots and North Face jackets are your thing. Just don’t forget to bring you “mountain goggles.” Yea, that’s a spin off of beer goggles. And well, Frat Kids are just narcissistic. All of them. From the outside, they’re all tools. In their brotherhood of secrets, tank tops and the fist pump are still cool.

Do you have any questions for me while you're here?

Why the infatuation with parties? I feel behind that Baptist 3rd grade teacher facade, you’re a wild one.





Haha.  Clearly, you've never been to a Baptist potluck.  I love hostessing, for one, because it brings people together to spend time, which I think is something that's becoming increasingly rare.  I'm also fascinated by social dynamics - how people act under certain circumstances.  Then, of course, I love good food and dancing and the occasional riotous game of Scattergories.

How often do you and your girlfriend, Lainey, co-plan events?

Hardly. Ever. If you know Lainey, then you know she is the most indecisive person to ever walk
the planet.

“What do you want to do tonight?” “Whatever.”
“What are you hungry for?” “I could eat anything.”
“Me and Garrett are going out. Do you want to come?” “It’s Garrett and I, and I guess.”

How does that go?

I mean it goes well. Once again, I assume the responsibility of “event coordinator.” Like I said, if it wasn’t for me, my friends would do nothing. Girlfriend included ;)

Thanks, Brian!

That's all for now, folks.  See you at the next party.

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. 

Mad

I'm probably about to blow up the version of me that you know.  Sorry, I'm not sorry.  Let me guess.  Judging by the name "Little Miss Sunshine", you think I'm peppy, cheerful, sweet (maybe?), and other similar traits. 

Confession time.  Sometimes Miss Sunshine gets angry with the fury of a burning ball of nuclearly reacting space stuff.  This is not a joke.  Sometimes my precious children make me mad.  I get annoyed when they say things like "Uh, no I didn't", when I JUST SAW THEM punch PC22 in the face, or when they say "I hate school" or "I don't care" or "Miss Sunshine Miss Sunshine Miss Sunshine" x 10,000.  I feel like they're defying my authority or disregarding any ability I have to engage them, or they're just being persistent 8 year olds.  On the scale of ponies and rainbows to exploding space reactions, that's not too bad. 

I like to drive… closer to the speed limit than not.  When people who think 15 under is a good idea for society, I get a little… peeved.  I feel like they're cutting into my schedule.  When people leave fast food restaurant tables messy, I get a little… disgusted.  I feel like they're disrespecting my eating space. 

Those are all merry and bright compared to what really makes me mad.  Sometimes people don't give me what I think I deserve.  I'm not talking about extra whipped cream at Starbucks or quick service at restaurants.  I'm talking about the things that I hold close as a part of my identity… like my intellect.  Treat me like I'm stupid, and prepare to have a supernova on your hands - not a vocal, demonstrative one, just a seething, steaming one.  Inside, I will likely be shouting one of these things…

MY SAT SCORE WAS PROBABLY DOUBLE YOURS!!

DO YOU EVEN KNOW THAT I HAVE _____!?!?!?!? (traveled, taken Greek, owned chickens, whatever it is)

YOU PROBABLY CAN'T EVEN SPELL THAT WORD YOU JUST USED INCORRECTLY!

It's the same when people don't think I can understand "real life" because I'm young or sheltered or home schooled or have had a happy life.  It makes me mad because they've taken something I prize - knowing stuff, having an imagination, being able to empathize - and thrown it away as worthless or ignored it completely.

I'm hesitant to write all those things for two reasons…

1. Now you know how big of a jerk I can be.

2. You're going to think I'm thinking those things when I talk with you. 

(It's probably good for accountability's sake that you know I can be a jerk, and it's not very likely I'm thinking those things when I talk with you.)

I was thinking last night about all of this.  The most troubling thought was this - aren't there more important things to be up in arms about?  Isn't there a whole world out there more important than my pride and reputation that could benefit from getting a little mad?  I don't mean road rage or unleashing on random strangers.  I was thinking more along the lines of things wrong in the world worth getting mad about. 

Every night, there are kids who are forced to have sex with people.  In some parts of the world, kids are forced to be soldiers.  There's enough food in the world for everyone to have enough, but people still starve while others get gym memberships to burn off their excess food.  Sweet grandmas and grandpas get swindled by hackers and phishing operations because they don't have people watching out for them.  On a planet of 7,066,735,041 humans, there are people who take their lives because they're lonely and think no one cares.  The CDC count for reported number of kids intentionally killed in the womb was 784,507 - and that's JUST IN 2009. 

Suddenly defending my stupid offended ego seems like a pretty big waste of time.  If I'm going to be up in arms about something, I had better make it something worthwhile.  How can I go through life getting upset by slow drivers and be perfectly nonchalant about the AIDS epidemic leaving millions of orphans in its wake?  Sure, my life should be characterized by the peace that comes from walking with Jesus, but by no means are peace and a full on rage against what is broken and ugly and evil in the world mutually exclusive.  In fact, I don't know how I could really say I walk with Jesus and not get fired up mad about the important things.

I don't really know what kinds of change this post will bring about in my life.  For starters, getting mad that people don't think I'm as cool as I'm convinced I am is certifiably ridiculous.  I also think looking reality in the face might be a good place to start.  The world can be a pretty dark planet.  People get away with stuff.  People get sick.  People do bad things.  I serve the God who heals.  I follow the God who is the ultimate just and merciful Judge.  I love the God who showed us what unconditional love looks like.  Talking to that God changes things, and He cares a whole heck of a lot more about the world than I'll ever be able to.  Prayer matters.  Right now I'm reading Love Does and I'm reminded that the limits I have are often limits I've put on myself.  Do I think I can't make a difference because I really am not capable of making a difference, or because I've talked myself out of trying?  Maybe it's time I got mad about something worthwhile and got in on the action.

Get mad and get going,

Little Miss Fiery Burning Hot Ball of Nuclear Mess (sorry, there wasn't a picture for that...)

You Could Possibly Survive Being a Teacher If...

1. You like kids.

And I don't just mean, you "kinda" like kids.  If you like your adorable, demure nieces and nephews who crow your name and shower you with kisses, that doesn't count.  Everyone likes that.  If you like cute kids in the grocery store, that also doesn't count.  I don't mean the idea of kids, either.  You have to really like kids - the ugly ones, the pretty ones, the snotty ones, the sassy ones, the rich and poor ones, the ones that are just a little weird, and you have to like being with them ALLLLL day.

2. You can deal with messes.

And I don't just mean "Miss Sunshine, I'm having a difficult time organizing my reading folder" messes.  I'm talking about snot, poop, blood, puke, tears, mud, grass, sand, and any other nasty thing you could imagine a kid getting into.  It'll happen.  Think through that one before you sign on for "Freshman Seminar in Education".

3. You have thick skin.

Kids are precious.  They will tell you things like "I love you, Miss Sunshine", "You're my favorite teacher ever, Miss Sunshine", "You're so beautiful, Miss Sunshine".  That's nice.  They will also tell you things like "I hate school", "Why are you so mean?!", "This is boring", "Why don't we ever get to do fun things like they do in Ms. ___'s class?".  That's not the end of it.  You'll catch criticism from their parents too.  "Why isn't my child on the honor roll this week", "You need to do something about this", "My kid needs more personalized attention".  If you have onion skin, forget it.

4. You like having fun.

Fun-haters, beware.  This is not a job for you.  Maybe try cardboard box making instead?  Kids are hilarious, and they'll have you rolling on the floor in riotous laughter.  They have good ideas.  They are whimsical.  They like to play.  If you can harness these qualities and turn them into learning, you will have minds aflame with curiosity and interest. 

5. You are smart.

And I don't just mean book smart, although you have to be that too.  Kids are sneaky, tricky little rascals.  They will get away with as much as you will let them.  They will push buttons, tell lies, and do things behind your back that become the stuff of kid legend.  While it's helpful to have eyes in the back of your head at the time of application, it's not necessary, as they'll develop as you teach.  

6. You're OK with making mistakes.

If you're all about being perfect, flee the teaching field.  The job is never done, the lesson is never perfect, the standardized test is never aced, and your low kid might not be in the gifted program by the end of the year.  You will make more mistakes than you'll care to admit.  If that makes you want to puke, that's OK, just so long as you're willing to face that fear and get over it.  It's hard, but it's not insurmountable.

 

7. You're a spork.

 That is, you can handle doing lots of different things.  Sporks can bore holes in snowbanks, stir hot chocolate, dollop some Daisy on a baked potato, dig a seedling hole in a garden, and complete a miniature 3D version of "American Gothic".  If you think all a teacher does is read picture books and give spelling tests, well, you're silly, and you don't know any teachers.  There's the teaching side of teaching, which involves presenting difficult concepts in multiple ways.  It involves looking at trends and data and assessment and figuring out if what you're doing is even working.  Then there's the business side of teaching, which involves a forest of paperwork, keeping good records and emailing parents.  Then there's the professional side of teaching which means keeping your license up to date and improving your mad teaching skills.

Being these  won't guarantee that you'll be a great teacher, but not being any of them is a pretty sure sign you should find something else to do with your life.

Much love,

Little Miss Sunshine

PS.  #8 is "You can live cheaply"   :)    

The Xbox 5600 Baconator

(What I'm reading inevitably filters down into my writing.  I'll say up front that I just finished What He Must Be by Voddie Baucham Jr., so consider yourselves warned, gents.)

I'll start by saying I think that sometimes well-meaning evangelical chicks can unwittingly man-bash just as well, if not better than, their feminist counterparts.  It's easy enough to proclaim the weaknesses of the other sex without offering any kind of insight or remedy or plumbing the heart for its true motives.  I have likely been guilty of this at one time or another, decrying the shortage of gospel driven, God fearin' men and the abundance of immature, poorly-read, undisciplined boys in men's bodies without speaking any sort of truth into the situation.  That confession aside, that is not what this post is. 

The scene opens on a seemingly tranquil grassy knoll.  Our hero emerges from the nearby thicket, riding his pearly white steed.  He has the armor as evidence of his extensive knight-in-training course at the local Community Knights College.  He has worked hard, and no one would argue that.  You should see the sweat that boy put into Jousting 203 - impressive by any standards.  He saved up his pence earned from delivering the daily tidings to buy his glowing steed, Roger.  Fiscally responsible, that boy.  When he finally got his first quest, he was elated.  No one doubted his courage or training.  That's where we find our young man, on the threshold of battling his first dragon, the fiery reptile Draco, who has held the small town of Hamletburgtonville in its scaly grip. 

Our white knight descends the grassy knoll, locates the dragon with his state-of-the-art DragonFinder 3000, slays him, and is lauded with the praise of the 150 peasants who live in Hamletburgtonville.  He carries the rather weighty and cumbersome, not to mention bloody and disgusting head of the dragon back to his professor of knightship at his local college.  Professor Secularis congratulates him on his success and invites him to the award ceremony where he will receive the reward of his labors. 

The night of the ceremony, our knight's mother helps our young man polish the hard to reach pieces of armor to ensure he is a walking talking blinding clanking tin man.  She and his father sit proudly in the front row of the hall, waiting for their son's name to be called.  He marches confidently across the stage and is handed the latest Xbox 5600, complete with mind reading technology and bacon griddle attachment. 

At this point, I hope something in you is terribly unsatisfied.  Don't misunderstand me, I love bacon too, but this whole story just isn't right.  So what went wrong?  Allow me to escort you to the front row of my punch line… He doesn't get the girl.  Before your inner progressive feminist starts yelling at me, tell her to go play some roller derby. 

[Whoa.  This just got feisty.]  So here's the problem.  Our valiant knight, aka, well brought up Christian boys, are well on their way to becoming those epic-worthy brave men who do the right thing despite the consequences and give voice to the plight of the voiceless.  Yay.  Good stuff.  High Five.  That's not the problem.  The crisis occurs when Professor Secularis aka silly liberals who don't advocate what's good for people hold up independence and a no-strings-attached life as a great goal (enter the Xbox 5600). 

Sure, the life of the wild and free - globe trotting on a shoe string to Manila and Prague and Capetown to practice amateur photography is fun.  Going to see concerts on the weekends is fun.  Buying yourself the latest ____________ is fun.  After a while, all you're left with is torn ticket stubs and a lot of stuff laying around your apartment.  Life that is wild and freeeeeee has never been one of God's dreams for His people.  At least, not in the sense I mean it here.  God has called you to a wild life of faith, trusting Him in everything, with everything, all the time.  He has called you to be freeeeee from stuff that will leave you broken and wounded and called you to be freeeee to love people and serve them. 

At this moment, I would like to pause and give you a short collection of things I'm NOT saying…

1. Everyone has to get married to be who they were created to be

2. Getting married is the end all/most awesome/important/sparkling thing about life

3. Girls are just princess prizes, objects to adorn men's arms

4. You should never go to Manila

5. You should get married ASAP

I feel like each of those things could be a separate blog post, but I'm just going to let them sit for now. 

My point in all of this bacon joking, analogy drawing, bro admonishing is something went south in our estimation of marriage.  Helllllooooo.  Whatever happened to "he who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the LORD" [Proverbs 18:22].  Or, if you want my own paraphrase - "the guy who finds a wife is a pretty smart guy, and God is happy for him".  What about this one "An excellent wife, who can find?  She is far more precious than jewels."? 

Follow this line of reasoning… God invented marriage.  God values the institution of marriage.  IF we say we want to love what God loves and think His thoughts after Him and stay close to His heart and all those other worship song-y things, we had dadgum better stop listening to the culture's commentary on marriage and start thinking it's as cool as God says it is.  In short, God values marriage.  If we want to value what God values then we will value marriage too. 

You'll notice, I didn't say, we'll all get married.  I get it that some people are called to serve God as a single person.  Actually, we're all called to serve God as single people because we all start out as single people.  Regardless of your life calling, married or single or single wanting to be married, we need to esteem/value/think highly of marriage. 

How do we do this? 

Well, girls, if you have not been called by God to be single, then by golly you're probably called to be called to be un-single.  We call that married.  If you're going to be married, you should probably start looking around at the awesome wives you know and ask yourselves if you have anything in common with them.  Can you communicate honestly?  Do you have some unrealistic expectations or relational baggage you need to sort through?  Are you seeking wise counsel?  Are you spiritually growing?  Then there are more practical things like do you have a lot of debt?  Do you know how to make something other than cereal and PBJ sandwiches?  On the other hand - if you are called to be single, uphold the institution of marriage as a wonderful thing. 

Bros… As men who love Jesus and are walking with Him and pursuing Biblical community etc. etc., maybe you should start being a little more marriage minded.  I realize, even if you know the final frontier is not the wild and freeeeeeeeee life, and you know marriage is a good thing, women can be sca-ry.  But that's OK.  You're knights.  You've been to knight school.  You're prepped and ready to go.  It's a big mission, alright, grander and more terrifying than any you've undertaken so far, but take the Bible's, and not insignificantly, the statistician's word for it - it's worth it. 

No one wants the knight to ride off into the sunset with an Xbox 5600 Baconator.

The Blessed Out Life

Wow.  You have a lot on your plate.  You have two kids in high school.  You're the PTA president.  You're the Club Swim Team Fundraising Committee Chairperson.  You are involved in a small group at church.  You have this friend you're trying to help through a divorce.  You're trying to watch your weight and cook healthy for your family, so you're growing grain in the backyard, but you feel guilty because you keep forgetting to water it and it's dying.  Your kids will probably have Thiamin deficiencies because they don't have a good source of organic hand-ground wheat berries. 

Gosh.  You really have a lot going.  You are working so hard on that class project.  I'm really amazed at how you carry the weight of the work of your team.  It's a wonder you fit it in what with organizing language partners for the International Club's exchange students, and tutoring young impoverished children.  Your girlfriend must be so proud to be dating someone who is so plugged in at the university.

I don't know how you do it.  I really don't.  You closed the deal that Harper, the guy down in marketing, wouldn't even touch.  You are a real go-getter.  I can see you going places, you know?  You take your work so seriously.  You never quit before the job's done.  I can't even wrap my mind around how you have time to be on the city council at the same time! 

Have I petted your ego enough yet?  Ok.  Now that it's sufficiently inflated, let me do us all a huge favor and be frank with you. 

You love being stressed.

Ha, you say, I do NOT love being stressed.  That's the silliest thing I've ever heard.  Do you actually think I LIKE feeling the weight of the world (or at least the weight of committee A-Z, team blah blah blah and organization zeta theta alpha beta) on my shoulders?  I just don't know what to do.  It's wearing me out, but they need me.  I can't just leave them in a lurch, whatever a lurch is.  (Does anyone know?)  Feeling stressed is not a fun thing, it's just an unfortunate part of my life right now.

You love being stressed.

It's fulfilling.  It makes you feel important.  It makes you feel needed.  If you have things to worry about, you feel like you have a purpose in life. 

Let me clue you into something… You have a purpose in life, but it is not being stressed about things you have no control over.  Allow me to give you a list of the things you are in control over, just for the sake of being organized.

- Your reactions. 

That's it.  As a matter of perspective, let me give you the short list of things you don't have control over, again, just to keep us organized.

- The price of tea in China

- Disease

- Death

- Elections

- The economy

- Your job

- Your family

- The weather

- Your friends

- The jerk who backs into your new car

- Germs

- Your cat

I could go on, but I think you get the idea.  So, just to review, your purpose is not to stress over things you don't have control over.  What about the one thing you do have control over?  No, that's not your purpose either. 

You're sitting there asking yourself, well geez louise, what the heck am I supposed to stress out about?!

You are supposed to stress out over - wait for it - nothing.  Stress is evil.  You might think that it makes you feel important, but really it's pilfering your joy, screwing up your priorities, oh, and it can physically kill you. 

So what's the solution, the magic Easy Button from Staples that will solve your stressed out life problems.  You can't just decide, oh, I'm not going to be stressed anymore, I've had enough.  I know, all you strong personality willpower people are disagreeing with me right now, but you can't.  You will fail, and chances are, that will stress you out more.  The problem with trying to get rid of stress is stress isn't the problem. 

Think about it.  You know people who have a huge potential for stress.  Life is kicking them while they're down.  They have a disease or a child with a terminal illness or they've experienced loss on a scale we find unimaginable.  Their circumstances are off the charts difficult, and yet, they have the audacity to possess this peace that is over and above anything we can wrap our minds around.  What's their deal!? 

They're looking reality in the face.  They know the God who holds the universe in the hollow of His hand.  They realize He loves them more than anyone else does, and He will give them strength to endure whatever happens.  They know they are significant, not because they win the award for Most Community Service Hours or Fullest Daytimer Ever, but because they were created on purpose for a purpose. 

They are important for reasons independent of their actions.  They matter because God says so, simple as that.  You can't solve stress by removing stressors from your life or just gritting your teeth.  You can only solve stress by understanding who God is and who He says you are and believing that to the moon and back. 

I hope you do.  I hope you give up trying to fix your stress problems and start looking at what you're believing.  I hope I do too.  I hope I relinquish the mirage that I might have control over anything in my life.  I hope instead of seeing myself as stressed out, I can walk through my week realizing I'm blessed out instead.  Blessed circumstantially, but even if that changes, I'm blessed with a hope that never quits.

Go meet your Monday,

Little Miss Sunshine