Posted in Life

Happy Birthday, D! (The Second)

This is not the second D. Nor is this D’s second birthday. It is my second blog post about her birthday. (Which is actually tomorrow. But I post on Tuesdays, so, you know… Also, it ended up that I’m posting this close enough to midnight that it might as well be tomorrow.) Enjoy some of D’s hilariousness from the past year. And see the first post here for more.

I just had a wonderful revelation that makes me feel less bitter about my health circumstances. BASICALLY, MY FAMILY COULD BUY A ZOO WITH ALL THE DOCTOR BILLS WE’VE PAID.

There is one thing, however, that VeggieTales has not taught me: was the canoe wood or aluminum?!

Don’t tell lies. You’ll trigger an alien invasion.

Also, I realized that since my family’s doctor is also from Michigan, I could wear this [Ohio State] t-shirt for my next appointment, but taking into account how a non-sports-fan reacted, it’s probably not worth it… I don’t want to tempt him to recant the Hippocratic Oath.

“You’re part of this generation,” my uncle pointed out. It’s true… but that doesn’t mean I have to like it!

Many characters have survived slave ships, burning buildings, treason, murderous relatives, and sheer rock cliff faces for years while their authors write out stories and negotiate with their publishers, so don’t worry about leaving yours hanging.

Since you didn’t specify which rules are okay to break, I’ll assume that means all of them. I’m feeling super inspired now to go rob banks, murder people, exploit the helpless, and do it all with a smile on my face so that I don’t have to regret anything.

I suppose that if my greatest memories of terror, futility, and feeling trapped came from a piano recital, I have led a truly blessed and sheltered life, but it was keenly unpleasant at the time.

Oh, well, I guess people falling in love is kind of adorable not as terrifying as I thought.

Even nursing hatred and loathing loses its luster after a while.

…You can eat, and I can write down all the funny things you say.

Once upon a time… we ate… gluten!

Sorry. Almost done. We have to remember our conversation about Hitler and spaghetti.

On the word ‘revolting’: This is one of my favorite adjectives! Which says a lot about my mental state in seventh grade when I discovered it.

I feel like such a YA character, lying in an abandoned parking lot and looking at the stars.

C.S. Lewis is so good at making up analogies children can relate to. Including picking scabs.

About the friend who influenced me towards reading Narnia: She started me on Little Ponies too. Though that didn’t have the same philosophical and spiritual impact.

When I read Bill Watterson’s explanation of why he refused to merchandise Calvin and Hobbes, I better understood why this treatment of Scripture bothered me so much. (There’s a sentence you probably weren’t expecting to read today.)

Also, food! I can’t eat food. Well, I can, or I’d be dead. What I mean is that I have an incredibly limited diet. I don’t have a boyfriend and can’t eat normal food, but I have everything I ever wanted in life!

It’s like the North Pole… but South!

Sorry! I’m finishing up drawing a panda in an apron.

For a second, I thought it was a name! Jim Locker!

Jason probably thought, “This kid needs Jesus,” and thought they’d play Apples to Apples with him and invite him to church. [Explaining why some fictional characters were hanging out with a fictional villain.]

I had one, but then I got distracted with childhood nostalgia.

Say no to Jesus!

Everything that doesn’t kill you weakens you until you do, in fact, die.

I just thought, Ugh, I’d have to look different if I regenerated… I like looking the way I do; it’s so familiar. It would be awful to suddenly be totally different. What other teenage girl would instinctively respond that way when faced with an opportunity to imagine a new physical appearance for herself? I BEAT SOCIETY.

We have made a pact that we don’t have to eat politely in front of each other.

Gaby asked if we knew where the term shotgun originated. If I’d thought of this response two weeks ago, I would have said, “Because sometimes people use a shotgun to settle their disputes about who gets the passenger seat.”

The candle did smell truly wonderful. When I was done smelling it, I announced, “Now I have even less need for a boyfriend.”

I stood in front of the sink with the tissue in my hand, staring at that spider and trying to work myself up to kill it. Suddenly, I thought, if women could fight in the Resistance during World War Two, I think I can kill a spider in my sister’s bathroom sink. That shamed me into doing it without even pulling a face.

It amuses me that this “story of my life” journal lasted for just one week.

I aspire to be like C.S. Lewis, but also Sandra Boynton. So I guess I’ll make witty board books of farm animals talking Christian theology.

I have filled up eighty-seven journals, but still panic when a school assignment asks me to describe something in my own words.

Coworkers in other jobs may talk about their wild exploits, but at the library, we talk about vocabulary words we used to mispronounce.

One of my dreams is to make it through life without ever possessing a smartphone

One of my greatest life regrets is throwing away the My Little Pony story I wrote in fourth grade and illustrated with sparkly crayons.

People would make heaven sound like never-ending choir practice where we’d all sing ‘holy holy holy’ until our faces melted.

YES. That would be faublous.
So fabulous I can’t even spell it correctly.

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