What It Is and What It Isn't...Revisited

More About This...

Less About That...

These photos haunt me...the way in which this young woman's life has changed so drastically that she is laying prostrate in a cemetery on a summer day contrasted with the triviality of lawn furniture advertised on a piece of junk mail that most people would immediately discard with a sense of disdain.

You know, whenever I encounter someone in the military, I make it a point to quickly say, "thank you for your service." I am always humbled and amazed at the looks that flash across his or her eyes. Initially, there is surprise. There is always gratitude. And, very, very frequently, for just a brief moment that is virtually imperceptible to anyone else, both of our eyes have a splash of a tear. Throats may be cleared, papers may be shuffled, eyes may briefly be diverted before the business at hand continues, but Gratitude and Respect has quickly been exchanged between two newly acquainted Americans.

I have always felt weird saying, "Happy Memorial Day."

I think I like, "Remember Memorial Day," better.

my first posting of these photos is here

Because I Just Don't Get It

When I see this hair...

I can't help but think of this hair.

Uh huh, oh yeah. I do not get it. Tina Fey did a nice job on SNL. Way to go putting this insanely popular tween hearthrob in a stroller.

Moving on...
Here is something that I do get. Sigh...

Have a happy (or hopefully a reasonably decent) Monday, y'all.

I Knew That It Was Bill Haley and the Comets

There was quite a bit of fanfare yesterday at the Lipstick household. We were dressed up, I was off work, and Mommy and Daddy Lipstick came to visit. The momentous occasion...Grandparent's Day at JBB's school. There was time to time to tour his classroom and talk to his teacher and to oooh and aaah over such wondrous things as this picture.

 

It was featured inside a card with the school crest and one of those sentimental quatrains about children not staying little for very long. You know the ones...somehow around the third line, you have such a hitch in your throat that you can't finish reading the thing aloud. Yep, one of those.

All thousand of us moved to the auditorium which sounds cringe-inducing except that it was organized and comfortable and happy and relaxed and totally acceptable to stand up and wave at your child. Well, I waved, smiled, moved my arms back and forth, and caught myself jumping up and down a couple of times, but whatever. JBB saw where we were. I didn't do anything more embarrassing that that which is a lot more than I can say for my antics at the Christmas program.

The children sang everything from fifties classics to old church hymns to patriotic selections as well as reciting things learned during the year. Nothing boring and all fun. It really was cool. They began the fifties part with, "Rock Around the Clock" which is on the jukebox in Nonna and DeeDa's basement.

Mr. Lipstick and I both knew that the song was by Bill Haley and the Comets and then we wondered if anyone else of our generation knew that little bit of trivia. Mr. Lipstick starting laughing hysterically and stage-whispered to me that when we were grandparents the kids would sing medleys of "Ice, Ice Baby." Oh, my goodness. Three cords and a stand-up bass are way better.

We ate lunch at my favorite place in town...the tea room at the art gallery that is just down the street from our house. When I drive through the ornamental iron gates, I leave all of my stress. I am never quite so relaxed as when I am there-and it doesn't even matter which part I visit...art gallery, mansion, gardens, or tea room. Relaxation washes over me and the burdens of work clatter to the ground like a set of rusty, tortuous iron shackles.

Of course, I wanted to have a family photo of sorts to document all of this relaxation. Mr. Lipstick insisted on taking it. It had begun thundering in earnest and Mommy Lipstick was lecturing us about the dangers of the weather. Mr. Lipstick was attempting to use her argument as his own just to avoid the picture. I am uncertain why either of them tries to dissuade me from taking pictures. If it weren't for me, we would have no photo record of our family at all. Daddy Lipstick doesn't mount these ridiculous photo arguments, and yet Mommy Lipstick and Mr. Lipstick do each time. Sigh. See how exhausting this is. You should have been there. We did get this picture.

Out of focus...me saying, "come over here, Pretty Girl. No turn around this way."
Then we got this one.

I am wrestling with Pretty Girl and Mommy Lipstick is expressing her extreme displeasure with the thunder and perhaps a flash of lightning. Notice the parking lot of the back....we really, really are about to leave in two seconds.
Then we got this one.

I was thinking, "Does Pretty Girl have her hands in her mouth? I hope not. Well, I can't worry about it now. Uh, my goodness...."
I grabbed the camera at the end and took a picture of Mr. Lipstick because he wasn't getting out of this picture business, oh no sirree. His offer to photograph everyone is not altruistic; rather, it is laden with hidden intent. I will take care of that, and here he is looking all lawyerly.

 

In other news...
Yesterday I saw a lady coming out of Home Depot with a giant red bucket on her head.
Reminded me of this.

Granted it was pouring down rain. The thunder and lightning finally brought some rain along with them. That lady still looked very Devo-esque. I do not think kids will ever sing "Whip It" at Grandparent's Day...no matter how old that song gets.

Dinner Before Destruction (or You Know Those Drama Masks...)

The drama masks...I mean these.

Life's been like that lately. Friday night Mr. Lipstick and I went to The Cheesecake Factory with some dear friends. We all took our kids which meant that children outnumbered adults. Another way of saying this is that there were more people at the table who wanted to lay down in the booths than did not. Sigh...despite all the sentences interrupted with, "sweetie, stop that!" I love having the kids along. I miss them if they're not there.

Whatever parental stress we might have experienced from corralling our children paled in comparison to that of our waiter. I think ours was his inaugural table. Party of nine...freaked out server of one. After getting five (oh, yes-five) take-out boxes for the staggeringly massive portions, I was so frazzled that my friend with three kids walked my two kids and me to our car. Oh my, so much wrong with that.

Of course, I offered to drive them to their car so all seven of us piled into the Lipstick little-sedan. Oh my, so much wrong with that too, but it was sure was funny. Kind of like something you do in college. The men escaped this madness since they had guys night at the movies. I am thinking that my friend and I need girl's night. I can't decide...margs or cosmos...what do y'all think? I recently had a wedding cake martini and y'all-it was to die for. My friend reads Lipstick-land...so you just let me know, ok? *wink*

The same dear friends offered to keep JBB and Pretty Girl while Mr. Lipstick and I traveled to a flood-ravaged area. He brought his jackhammer and I brought some gloves. Uh huh, he owns a jackhammer. Handy he his. We helped with the de-construction of a condo which was completely destroyed.

Two things:
1. I sort of felt like it was 1890. There was (lots of) heavy work for the menfolk and (lots of) lighter work for the women folk. After stuff was sledge-hammered, I swept away debris. Back to 1890...in my world of pharmacy, men and women do the exact same work. Tasks are not based on physical strength. Doing different work from the men was odd to me. So odd to me that I became obsessed with why I thought it was odd.

2. I swept up debris of what used to be someone's house. I was humbled to offer some help. While I was there I saw countless volunteers. People doing work like us, people with tents cooking for the volunteers, and people walking around to see if other people needed anything. Amazing. Finally, when you sweep up the dirt that is the ruins of someone's house, it is no longer a burden to come home and sweep up dirt in your own intact, undamaged home.

You know, I've never intended for Lipstick-land to be a once a week blog. I don't want it to be, but seeing fellow Southerners suffering has weighed heavy on my heart. I am grateful to you for reading and most grateful for your prayers.

Mask painting from here

The South Will Rise Again

Lately my life has been filled with sweet minutiae. I really like the word minutiae. In fact, I like it so much that you would think that by now I would have learned how to spell it. You might think that, but you would be wrong.

Nevertheless, this sweet minutiae of which I speak has consisted of events like shopping with Mommy Lipstick and hauling JBB to a birthday party and pushing the kids on our swing in the yard.

What is devastating to me is that so many in my beloved South are hurting and suffering from something as benign as rain...benign that is until 15 inches arrives in a single day. Then that water which is normally a life force of all humankind has the power to snuff out the lives and livelihoods of thousands.

The Lipstick Household isn't affected, but I grieve for those who are hurting. I can't imagine losing everything. Starting over. Really starting over. I desperately want for those folk's lives to be touched by grace and hope and a bit of sweet, comforting minutiae.