No More Than I

No more guilty than I
Who drove the spikes through divine sacrifice.

No more guilty than I
Who spat and cursed God in flesh.

No more guilty than I
Who drew straws for ancient garb.

No more guilty than I
Who washed his hands of innocent blood.

No more guilty than I
Who sold Messiah for the cost of slaves.

No more guilty than I
Who beat the back which carried my shame.

No more guilty than I
Who sentenced deity to the grave.

No more guilty than I
Who recognized Him not as Lord.

No more guilty than I
Who counted Him a criminal.

No more guilty than I
Who was reprimanded by the rooster’s crowing.

No more guilty than I.

Posted from WordPress for Android

a desperate cry for aid

My mom has incredible taste and little feet.

It will be the death of me.

I bought these:

cute in size 7 or smaller...

Because she did.

They look so good on her.

And in her size.

I have flippers.

Not feet.

I look like a man in them.

Or a very clumsy woman.

Which I am.

It wouldn’t be so bad except that I also have incredibly scrawny legs.

So I look like a clumsy chicken in a motorcycle gang.

I need help.

If you have any suggestions on how I should wear them, please spill.

No suggestion is too extreme.

In fact, the edgier the better.

Anything to make up for the boats.

I mean boots.

Curse your tiny feet, Mother!

Love you!

sometimes we have daughters

and we love them so much.

sometimes they ask us for things that seem absurd

but we are ok with that because we know them.

we know their little minds

and their little hearts.

while we care for their tummies and keep them clean

we also care for their minds.

so when they ask us for silly things

we do our level best to make them happy.

if it’s not going to hurt them

what’s the harm in doing something odd once in awhile?

Blonde curls and blue eyes made a request.  Months ago.  ”Mommy, you gotta make me a Spiderman dress.”

“Honey, that’s not how you ask.”

“Please, please, please!  I neeed a Spiderman dress!”

Such a feat is not a walk in the park.  Because walking in the park doesn’t involve WiFi.  Or PayPal.  Or sewing machines.

In all seriousness, most material adorned with the beloved arachni-hero is either fleece, flannel, or quilting squares.  Finding woven by-the-yard cotton is no simple matter.  Fabric.com to the rescue.  For a mere pittance, I purchased 1 1/2 yards of the most beautiful licensed material.  And 1/2 yards each red tulle & glitter baby blue tulle.  Because red and blue are Spiderman colors, homies.  And I was not about to do this half-assed.  Making a garment of these specifications is not something one plays around with.

The thing is, Little Blonde Princess is not little in emotion, expression, or action.  If her mama is making a present for her birthday, albeit early, this can’t be just any dress.  Full skirted, puffy sleeved, and tulle.  All.  Over.  The place.  Ribbons.  Bows.  Drama.  Flare.  Flounce.  It’s also for Halloween.  And probably every Sunday until the cows come home.  Or she outgrows it.  My educated guess is the latter.  Darn cows aren’t known to return very often.  I’m not anticipating the gown being handed down gently to Molly, so I’ve already begun searching for a clear box in which to preserve and display the collector’s item once it’s usefulness as a princess garment is history.

pretty enough for the ball?

it's a princess spiderman dress

spin around for the camera, e.

that's enough pictures, mommy.

hey look! i got tomatoes from that box.