It dawned on me, reading through old posts, that I use a lot of run-on sentences. I can be so grammatically incorrect! And this is coming from someone who used to be such a stickler for proper grammar (I mean sort of--never could figure out the whole who/whom business) and might judge you for a misplaced comma or a misspelled definitely.I've come a long way, and am a recovering semi-perfectionist. I remember when things had to be "just-so". When I was very quiet and stoic and serious, and quite honestly, unhappy. That was a short phase in my life, of course, and not the way I was born. I was born to make messes and entertain people until they laughed, and am sooo thrilled to be back doing what I love best again! ;)
But, wow. I'm way off track. Run-on sentences.
On this blog, at least, I feel I can be free to let a sentence run on now and then and not feel like there are grammar cops out hunting me with machetes and I've always wanted to hold a machete and whack through bushes sometimes I find blackberries in bushes but I usually get a bunch of thorns in my hands and did I mention that one time I had a piece of glass in my big toe for seven weeks before I could get it out and I went ice-skating on it and lodged it in farther and was like limping everywhere and wow I limp a lot, considering the amount of toes I've broken, maimed, or bruised.
I digress. But that's how the thoughts are in my mind, tumbling around, connecting and disconnecting memories of my life, current events, and hopes for the future.
But I try to be concise! I don't want this to be as miserable to read as it is to write. (; <--BOOM. Winky face. #ohyesIjustdid.
Anywayssss...the other night, I was babysitting my favorite kiddos outside my own siblings and I thought of something interesting. But let me set the scene first.
They are the children of my mother's cousin and his wife. So I can't ever figure out what to call them, second cousins or first-cousins-once-removed, and that's just by blood. Through a series of complicated legal procedures, my mother's cousin is also her adopted uncle (huh?!) thus making him my great-uncle and his kids my...I don't know. I just confused myself. So, I just call them all my cousins and it makes things a great deal simpler.
I'm over at their house (cozily situated in the hills of Grey Forest) at least twice a month, so I usually come in without knocking and they offer me dinner. This particular night, they're just finishing up chicken flautas, and Mrs. L offers me three, and then asks if I'd like them with sour cream or ranch.
Now, obviously, the correct answer here is sour cream. So that's what I say, smiling winningly as they nod in approval. Of course she'd pick sour cream! What sophisticated person dips their flautas in ranch dressing? Only the children...But as soon as they step out the door for their dinner date, I put the sour cream back in the refrigerator and whip out the ranch and practically soak my flautas in the delicious, creamy stuff. Because somehow, my taste buds are still pretty child-like.
While the kids watch their movie, I eat slowly, swirling my flautas around and around in the ranch dip, thinking about everything and nothing. There are a hundred million run-on sentences colliding inside of my head, and when I press a hand against my temple to block them out, the only thing that still surfaces is jalapeno chips.
Jalapeno chips?
And then, I think of summer of 2010, when I went to that wonderful camp (that I never blogged about so don't bother looking for a post about it) that changed my life. I didn't know anyone there, because it wasn't with my church, so I don't remember it so fondly for social reasons. It evokes wonderful memories because I was on this Jesus High for months after. He changed me there. Healed me. ANYWAYS, moving back to the jalapeno chips. (See what I mean? Run-on sentences.)
In the free time during the afternoon, some campers would gather in the cafeteria and make strange bets and dares, dying for entertainment that didn't mean roasting in the hot July sun. They had all sorts of food and drink eating contests, which I would just sit and watch, refusing to participate in because of my uncanny ability to throw up.
But then one girl was bragging about how she could eat ten whole jalapeno chips--with the seeds still in them--without going for water. Smirking, she commented carelessly how no other girl had been able to top that so far.
And then I was standing up and across the room before I realized what I was even doing. And the other kids, not knowing who I was, just murmured in disbelief and approval.
The girl was from Oklahoma (I kid you not..) and had no idea who she was contending with. One. Two. Three. Four. Seven. Nine. The jalapeno chips slapped into our mouths as we winced and swallowed, pretending it was okay.
Except I wasn't pretending. Spicy is what I do. I drink salsa from a straw. And I never, ever refuse jalapenos on my nachos. The poor girl just had no idea...haha. :)
I heard them talking about me later before chapel. The girl who ate fourteen jalapeno chips and didn't throw up.
My one claim to fame, folks.
P.S. Since apparently the blog is supposed to be about my current life..SIGH..I guess I should say something else. Like about track! Three practices over, three practices done, three practices I will never have a chance to run again. I'm going to push myself hard this year. Harder then ever. I want to succeed. So badly! I'll keep you updated, I promiseeee. :)
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