Well, I was six. Once.

This week in Sunday school it was kind of a mad house. Six kids. Five of them were boys. Two of them were age 3. All of them had their levels cranked to 11.

When I finally got them to sit down and listen to the story, it calmed down a bit. There was question asking and hand-raising and Jackson, age 6, asked his fellow miscreants to raise their hands if they were 6 years old as well.

Naturally, I raised my hand.

Jackson: Miss Laura, you’re not six!
Me: Yeah huh! I am.
Jackson: You’re not!
Me: Then how old am I?
Jackson: Sixteen!
Me: Oh, yeah. I forgot.
Will, also age 6, whom I babysat for last week and I’ve already played this game with: No you’re not, you’re 27!

Dammit. Cover’s been blown.


Been there, done that

Whenever I get stressed, I have dreams about high school or college. I think I’ve told you about this before. In the dreams I have already graduated, but then find out that there was a class I forgot to go to. Ever. Or a test I didn’t pass so my grades are all wrong and I have to go back.

No thank you.

If when I’m stressed, the first thing my subconscious goes to is high school, that should mean it was the most stressful time of my life, right?

I don’t know. In some ways it was, but who’s isn’t. At least at the time, everything seems to be the worst possible thing or best possible thing when it happens. Until you get past high school and realize there are much more important things to worry about.

My high school experience wasn’t all bad. In fact, I liked a majority of it. I met some great people that I still keep in touch with and hang out with on a regular basis. However, the only one I see constantly from my graduating class is my roommate.

I tell you that to tell you this – in one year, my graduating class will be celebrating 10 years out of high school. They’ve already started the Facebook group and messages and stuff about what we want to do and who wants to come and I could not be less interested.

Same goes for the roommate. We’ve made a pact, I guess you could call it, to not go.

Why? ‘Cause it doesn’t matter to me. If I wanted to see these people or what they were doing I could just look at their Facebook page. And if you do that, then you don’t have to talk to them!

We’re not close. We’re not like my sister’s graduating class who basically all ended up as good friends and a majority of which went to the same college so everyone kept pretty well in touch. I saw some people from my graduating class at college – besides the group of friends I went down there with – and they acted like we’d been best friends when they saw me.

Or, in one case, when they needed help with homework because we were in the same class, all the sudden we’re buddies. When, in reality, you had about 2 words to say to me the entire four years we shared several classes a day.

I’m just not interested. I don’t want to go, so, as it stands now, I’m not.

I’ll just stick to what I’ve already done – helped out at my sister’s class reunions and tried to be an honorary member of that class. I hang out with more of them anyway.

day 24 – a song that you want to play at your funeral

This is a hard one to pick because, well, obviously I won’t be there, so it really shouldn’t matter.

And no one likes thinking about their funeral. So. I’ll make this quick and painless.

I don’t want it to be a sad and morbid and “can’t believe she’s gone” kind of thing.

I try to be funny. And have fun. And enjoy things. So when I die at the ripe ol’ age of 189, I want people to remember all those things. And listen to a happier song. Like this one:

Give or take a few years

Sometimes I help teach five-year-olds at Sunday school. And it never fails to be hilarious. Case in point, today, when we heard the story about Isaac and how old his mother was when she had him.

Ellen (Sunday school teacher): See the grey hair and the wrinkles?
Darrah, age 5: You have wrinkles on your face!
Ellen: Yes, I do. I’m a grandma.
Darrah looks at me: You don’t have wrinkles. How old are you?
Me: How old do you think I am?
Darrah: Ummmmmm 15.
Me: Close enough.

It’s at least better than when that kid told me I’m older than Santa.

Go shawty, it’s your birthday

Yesterday I turned 26. I don’t feel all that old all the time, but it kind of comes in spurts. Like when I chaperoned a lock in for middle and high schoolers at my church and the DJ played Blackstreet’s “No Diggity” and NONE OF THEM HAD EVER HEARD OF IT. Except of course, Baby Einstein, but Rach and I have made sure she’s cultured in the music and trends of the early to mid-1990s. That’s an older sister job. But still, how could these youth not know the song that, had I made a soundtrack representing my middle-school life, would be as high up on the mix tape as track 3 or 4? THE HUMANITY.

What was I saying? Oh. I had a birthday.

After 21 though, no age is really much different from the one before it, at least it doesn’t seem like it – ask me again when I’m 30 though..whoa. But I don’t really have anything to complain about as far as 25 goes. For me, 25 was a pretty good year. Went on some awesome trips, moved into a new apartment, bought a new car and made some pretty big changes that have continued to work out well. I’m assuming, hopefully, that 26 will be just as awesome, if not better.

It sure started great. Even though it was on a Monday – instead of Thunder or Easter like it has been in the past – it was a decent Monday. Started my day at Starbucks and got flowers at work, which was nice. Then, I went to lunch with my editor and throughout the day got lots of Facebook love (my friends are great). Dinner was PF Chang’s and then we did cake – cheesecake in my case, I don’t like regular cake at all – and opened presents. I already knew what I was getting for the most part, my family is going to see Wicked in May and since I didn’t/don’t really need anything else at the moment, I asked my parents to just go ahead and buy my ticket for me.

So, I’ve asked that they sing “Happy Birthday” to me again while we are in our seats waiting for the show to start. No one will look at us like we’re crazy, right?

Also, I got some gift cards, and let me tell you, that is one of the best presents ever. I’ll be spending some time at Half Price Books, Target, Barnes and Noble, McAlister’s and on Amazon.com in the next few weeks thanks to my awesome family and roommate.

We capped off the night at my parents’ house talking about our fears. I won’t name names, but someone feels like she’s suffocating if her ears are covered. Someone else is just as afraid of whales as sharks because you could just be swimming along and all of the sudden you see a giant whale mouth underneath you. Also, sharks can get to lakes. And boats, bears and tight spaces are no fun at all. Did I mention my family watches “I Shouldn’t Be Alive” a lot here lately?

So yeah. I like 26 so far. And it can only get better, right? 🙂

Thanks for all the birthday wishes, friends!!