Wednesday, July 30, 2014

The Gift of the Girl Pig


I have this friend I call a girl pig as a term of endearment.

It's so fun to start posts with sentences like that just so I can imagine all of you reading it and going, "Wait.  What?!" and then scrolling back up just to make sure your eyes weren't playing tricks on you.  Fun for me.

But yeah.  I call her a girl pig.  Love her to death and I rarely use her name anymore.  See, Heather and I were reading The Book Thief at the same time and the step-mother character uses the German term "Saumensch" to refer to the main character, Liesel, a little girl who she takes in during World War II.  It loosely translates to "girl pig" and though it is initially used as a gruff sort of insult, the word eventually becomes coated with love as the novel progresses.

Heather and I both became engrossed in this book and it just sort of happened.  We call one another Saumensch.  It's going to be a hoot sometime when a German speaking customer overhears us and wonders what the heck is going on and why the server just called her co-worker a pig!

All this to say that I love my Saumensch and I also love that notebook she gave me as an early birthday gift.  It was packaged neatly in a blue polka dot bag along with a travel coffee mug that said "Keep Calm and Drink Coffee."  In case you haven't noticed, that's what I do.  I drink coffee and I blog.

I don't post every day and I don't make any money here.  I don't have a calender on my counter with posts planned out a month in advance.  Half the time, I'm making this stuff up as a go which is why it seems like I write about poop a lot.  It's not my fault that my four year old's hands seem to always smell like poop, even if he just washed them.  I mean, I could go in there and personally scrub his hands with industrial strength soap and he still would cram them into his brother's face ten minutes later just to hear him scream, "Miiiiicah!!  You're hands smell like poooooop!!!"

See what I mean?  Always comes back to poop.

This is why I'm excited that my girl pig gave me this notebook.  I can carry it around with me and jot down all the genius ideas I get for non-poop related blog posts.  It's going to be epic.  I can use arrows, bullet points, and other fancy punctuation to get my super-blogger crap together and write the kind of stuff that blows your mind.

Or I can just keep writing about blow-outs.  And not the fancy salon kind either that costs you $60 without a scissors even touching your hair, oh no.  I'm talking about the kind that make you breathe through your mouth and stifle your gag reflex.

At least I write about the Bible and stuff in between the posts about poop, food, how tired I am, how messy my house is, and how I sometimes think babies resemble serial killers.

How's that for variety?

Glad you're here.  Grab a coffee and stay a while.  You're among friends.

(By the way, that's an affiliate link I used on the book's name so if you were to buy it after clicking that link I would earn like a third of a penny or something, rendering that entire middle paragraph of this post a total lie.  Just though you'd like to know.)



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