oh, what a difference...

a year makes.

happy 1st birthday, grady hayes! we love you too much!

art imitating life

is that right? or is it life imitates art? oh, dagummit! who the heck cares.

for me, it's been more like, "beth comer, this is your life. now go ye therefor, and try to find some sorta art in it. somewhere." so like, "life dictates art." that doesn't quite have the same ring to it. but, whatcha gonna do? my life, as of late, has pretty much revolved around this little booger right here.


so, here's to life, art, and dictatorship. now, if you'll excuse me, i'm off to live my artful life! that is, right after i apply a thick layer of off! and spf 1,250. play ball!

ain't skeered

perhaps, wes mess, if you were my first born son, approachin' this in the sink might have made me flinch.

but, alas, you are not. and, i'm afraid you're gonna have to get up pretty early to pull one over on this momma. (just kiddin'. not any earlier than you already do, please.)

and, so, i just want you to rest assured that i recognized this mess in my sink before it even came in focus...

why, it's none other than wendy waters. ms. rescue hero, herself.

and, i'm assumin' an egg shell from breakfast and pudding? see. i ain't skeered.

oh my goshness...

she is 11!

like most people these days, we have a gps. we named our lady, fiona. at first it was a man's voice, but i fixed that right quick like. can't have a man tellin' me where to go and pointing out every wrong turn. anyway, she has a rather "proper/robotic" soundin' tone to her voice. which is what makes us really giggle when she says things other than, "make a u-turn if possible."

so when, on the mornin' of maddie's bday, i started the car and a reminder came up that said: "title: maddie's birthday. message: oh my goshness, she is 11!" i laughed my ghetto booty off. (well, it's still there, but i had to say that for dramatic effect.) oh, fiona, i couldn't have said it better, girl. oh. my. goshness.

maddie, my prayer for you, this year, is that you are filled with the Holy Spirit, and that you use every gift that God has given you to it's fullest potential. and, that you start wearin' deodorant on a more regular basis. love. love.

who's on your team?

as i stood on my kitchen stool and grabbed the dusty, pitiful appliance that i try and pass off as a a coffee maker from the top shelf of the corner cabinet, the carafe fell, but i grabbed it just before it smashed to the countertop. (how cool is it that i got to use that word? and that spellcheck didn't see a thing wrong with the way i spelled it? it's the little things, really.)

seeing my amazin' stunt, sara blurted-out, "nice catch!"

to which i replied, "yes, it was. you need me on your team."

"you are on my team," she said.

well then. how 'bout that. don't know if she meant it to sound as deep as my little mind comprehended it, but it sure did stop me in my tracks.

immediately, i started thinking 'bout people. in general. and how we all need each other. we need old friends, new friends, siblings, parents, sunday school teachers, and neighbors. and, it's pretty stinkin' awesome to know that even when life gets in the way, the folks that are really on your team never retire or resign. they just sometimes disappear for long periods of time. but, when you finally reunite, it's pure sweetness.

and this is what that sweetness looked like to me:



friends and family, are where it's at. if i do say so myself.

i feel like she's tryin' to tell us somethin'.

me: okay, maddie? i'll play along. what's with the treasure map on your gams?
mad: well, i always miss places when i shave in the shower. it's bad lighting.
me: uhhhh. huh?

eleven years old tomorrow. give her 20 years and a house of punks. she'll be doin' good to even make a play towards the shower. much less devise an action plan for one.