The Haircut

I am guilty of breaking the cardinal hair care rule. A trim every 6-8 weeks will keep your hair looking healthy. At least that is what my stylist tells me. As a teen I had my hair cut regularly. I don't think I ever went longer than six weeks. Of course I had short hair and that requires a little more maintenance. Ever since I let my hair grow long I have been perpetually tardy in the salon chair.I would say on average I cut my hair twice a year. Pathetic I know.

I used to say it was money that kept me from getting my haircut. I just hated dropping down $50 or more for a cut, but now I guess that excuse won't fly. It is pretty sad when your husband starts saying," honey you can get your haircut, no, I'm serious your really should get your haircut." I believe now it is a matter of the daunting practice of choosing a style. I have had everything from short, to long and straight. I love the super cute short styles, but I find that our love affair is short lived. No pun intended. I am happy with the cut for a couple of weeks and then it starts to grow out and becomes impossible to deal with. I have a girly side, but I definitely like to keep things low maintenance.

I like all of the possibilities long hair offers. There is the ponytail. Every mom loves this. Roll out of bed in the morning and can't stand the ball of frizz that settled on your head? Throw up a ponytail. Ball cap optional. Need to go formal? A sexy up-do will have you turning heads in no time. Heading to the Carribean? Microbraids and beads will have you fitting right in. Of course nothing beats the classic sultry long, flowing hair look.

Now I have gone and deviated from the main purpose of this blog, and that is choosing a hair style for my cut today. Can you see why I only do this twice a year?

The Problem With Blind Justice

I have been around long enough to see a few supreme court nominations in my time. I have watched with great interest as the drama unfolds around Ms. Sotomayor's nomination. I am a firm believer in blind justice. The symbol of a blindfolded women holding the balance is a completely beautiful picture of the ideal system in any society. Of course in our politically correct world we find each side battling over the fairness or unfairness any potential candidate will bring to this high court. Should race, gender, poltical affiliation, or family background have a place in the hallowed halls of our justice system? Absolutely not! Those who mete out justice should do so with no interest in either party. Judgements should be evenhanded. The scale should not lie. In our society the scale is also tempered with a strict constitution that should guard from any man who would utilize a dishonest scale.

Unfortunately there is a great problem with blind justice, and that problem is man. How can anyone expect humans to be what they are not. Our species is wrought with unjustice to the core. Each one of is a viewing life from our experience. In a perfect world one can only hope that we would do our best to keep justice blind and her scales fair, but when humanity is involved I do not know if that is possible.

A True Cynic

I have always wished I was one of those individuals that saw a glass as half full. I must admit, I am a true cynic. I don't trust easily, and I usually am looking for ulterior motives. I suppose I am a true child of this age, exposed by media from all sides, with a hardened exterior to withstand disappointment. In this intense climate it is easy to fall back to what is comfortable and revert inward. If you can't really trust anyone, maybe I can at least trust myself?

As I ponder my own cynical outlook, a verse from Colossians 1:27 came to the forefront of my mind.

to whom God willed to make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.

So God what you're saying is it's not Crystal the hope for glory? What a relief! With this one simple truth all my cynicism and tough resolve melts away. There is no human knowledge I posses, nothing I can build, no magic words I can say that will provide hope or peace for myself or anyone. It is this strange mystery that God has chosen to reveal to the humble and lowly of heart. Who am I to be cynical when it is Christ alone that is our hope for glory?

Weekends Are Too Short

Summer weather is kicking into full gear here in the great state of Texas. As kids start getting out of school, I find myself longing to be a kid getting out of school for summer break. I could easily fill my days with swimming, snow cones, riding bikes, and sleeping in. Alas those days have past, but they sure are some great memories. In the meantime I try to fill my weekends and some weeknights with swimming, snow cones, riding bikes, and sleeping in. Maybe I should scratch that last one as referenced by the time stamp on this blog!

In spite of a short weekend, we always try to make it a good one. I decided it was time for a picture blog. We decided once again to get season passes to NRH20. The kids love it, and it gives us somewhere to go when it is too hot to do anything else on the weekends. This was Micah's first chance to swim. He and Kaylie are having a blast!

Micah spends a lot of his weekend time playing and just being cute.

Kaylie has spent a lot of time practicing riding her bike. She actually did venture out of the garage and went on a three mile ride!

This weekend we attended a graduation lunch for my cousin Monica at one of my favorite places, Italliani's. I remembered to bring my camera to a function so here are some pictures.
K
aylie and I trying to look natural
The handsome boys in my life.

Mom and Melody

Micah really enjoyed the bread.
Kaylie decided to serenade us at the end of the meal.

It was a good Saturday, and I even got to go shopping for some new shoes and an outfit! Thanks Chris for making me fit it into the budget. :)

The only thing that could have made it better is if dad was with us. He's still plugging away in Africa until July. We miss you!

I will try to keep my camera handy this summer. I know the pictures add a little life to the blog for those who get bogged down with all the words. You may have noticed I have added advertisements to the blog. It has become an opportunity to make a little extra debt snowball money so if you have a moment check one out and help a girl out. No pressure :)

Have a great weekend everyone. It may be short, but make it a good one!

Going Home Time

Once again another successful work week is on the way to being completed. The Memorial holiday was so enjoyable that this had to be a four day week just to ease me back into reality. Tonight I will go home and revel in the fact that I have one day left at work and a delightful weekend ahead. I will top this with a delicious pizza from Nino's Pasta ~Pizza. I promise I'm not getting paid for this, but if you're ever in the North Arlington area you have to check it out. Nino has been serving up some awesome New York style pizza and pasta for years off of Green Oaks and Forest Ridge. We have been regulars since I was a kid. He even became my customer at Starbucks for the year I was at Collins and Green Oaks. He's a great guy with a great staff. They always remember our usual, and it feels like going to family's for dinner.
If your in the neighborhood check it out. You won't be disappointed.

So this was not a deep, introspective blog, but it will have to tide you over till tomorrow.

Here's to You Collins & Green Oaks

I was driving home last week down a familiar road. While waiting at the intersection I was hit by the stark emptiness the corner feels with the loss of the Starbucks at Collins and Green Oaks. This was not my first Starbucks, but this store represented to me all that Starbucks once was. I came here shortly after the birth of Kaylie, and spent one wonderful year at this store. It did not bear the glaring, flashy siren that beckons from most highways today. Instead it had an understated sign that welcomed all who desired a caffeine fix or solace from a long day. The inside was not fancy or new fangled. It had a comfortable feel, like home. It was here you could curl up in the old school big, comfy chair and read, chat, or sleep as I saw some do. The store was not stiff or rigid and instead of the sounds of a drive thru window, you could hear the symphony of milk steaming and espresso shots pouring. All that was missing was the old La Marzocco for a truly authentic feel, but that was retired long ago.

Perhaps what I loved most was the eclectic mix of people that frequented Collins and Green Oaks. We had a lot of college students cramming late into the night. We had a group of people that came and sat on the patio night after night chatting and smoking more cigarettes than one convenience store could provide. There was the old man who arrived every day at opening to drink his coffee and eat a cheese danish. He came off as a little cranky, but he was like family. Then there was Bob he had a particular way he wanted his drink and it had to be filled 3/4 full and extra hot. He was quite eccentric, but once you got his drink down he was a friend for life. Who could forget Duane? He sat at the front of the patio by the door and greeted everyone with,"Top of the morning." Most people thought he was an employee. There were plenty of weird people, but they added color and life to the store. It was a far cry from what I had been used to in the stuffy suburb of Frisco.

Collins and Green Oaks really represented community. It was filled with a warm environment that wove each person's thread of experience into a beautiful tapestry of life. Now that same corner store sits dark and empty, a victim of the Starbucks chopping block in a last ditch effort to save a fledgling company. If only they had realized that no amount of shiny new stores or convenient drive thru's can take the place of community. The money may be quick, but the loyalty is wavering.

Here's to you Starbucks at Collins & Green Oaks the corner will never be the same without you.

Grandma Lucy

My paternal grandmother died of cancer over twenty years ago. I was just a toddler. I don't remember a lot about her. My memories are more like fuzzy pictures, almost like a dream. I remember her face, and not just from pictures. I remember they had some sort of a shed with a freezer and she took me to get a popsicle there once. It's weird the things you remember from childhood. Even though I was so little I felt her love. I remember the stories my dad told about her and I know she was a wonderful women who played a great role in our heritage of faith. One thing I do remember quite vividly was her funeral. I remember seeing her in the casket. I don't think I was scared or afraid. It was more surreal. I also remember the graveside service. I thought it was strange that during the service the minister tossed sand our her casket. Later I understood it was symbolic of the "from dust to dust," but it was still confusing as a child.

My grandpa eventually remarried a women named Lucy. I was five and she was pretty much the only grandmother we new as kids. I'm sure we drove her crazy when we came to visit running around the house and backyard, but we loved her and we knew she loved us. She took care of my grandpa through heart attacks and various health issues, and put up with him even when he had a funny way of showing he cared. She was never there to replace our grandmother, but the heart has a great capacity to grow with love if we only allow it. Since the day she came into our life she has always been known as grandma Lucy.

This week my mom received a call that grandma Lucy was diagnosed with cancer in her bowel. She is scheduled for surgery tomorrow. As I write this I am filled with all of the uncertainty a diagnosis like this brings. Cancer has touched our family more than once, and it is never something that grows easier to handle. I can only ask that your prayers be with her. I pray that she has the peace that only Jesus can bring when we face circumstances that are beyond our understanding and control. I also pray that my grandfather will be at peace and feel our love. He must now face this prognosis for a second time with another wife. It cannot be easy.

In the end I am without adequate words. All I can beg is for your prayers. What else can I say? We love Lucy!