Fortuitous Randomnosity

Randomnosity isn't a word, isn't that stupid. It should be.

Use: "There is so much randomnosity in the world"or"There is so much randomnosity in this blog."

synonym for random. Fortuitous. I like this word. I might use it. "That was fortuitous"

I googled the longest words in the English language today and found three.

1.Floccinaucinihilipilification- the act as estimating as worthless
2.Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia- the fear of long words.Does anyone else get the irony of this one? If you have a friend with Hippopotomonstronsesquippedaliophobia, don't tell them this is what it's called, they might have a panic attack. (who is scared of long words, and how did that happen...?)
I just thought of a scenario of a child in third grade. The word is really long. "Grandmother." They are freaking out.

3.pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis- this is a really over exaggerated way to say "you have lung disease."

If you look closely, this word is composed of words like,"microscopic,""sili," "volcano," "con,"
- I get the feeling the doctor wanted to outdo his buddies, so he just started putting words together.

Let me try: Tenacioutreegregrosarootrunkblacktorious- I made this word up for the slow dying of a tree's trunk, which will eventually spread to its roots, causing the tree to die. It is a slow death.

Here are some fortuitous things from my day:

1. Class attendance is directly related to weather. Of this I am 100% sure.

2. Eicosapentenoic acid is the fatty acid located in fish. It has 5 double bonds and 20 carbons. And if you think you're getting it by eating lots of salmon...eh. wrong. You only get omega three from salmon that were caught in the wild not home grown in a pond. Sorry, omega three is derived from the salmon's diet of algae. They don't eat algae in ponds. They eat cheap, crappy fish pellets.So you might want to check with the store to make sure it came fromt he wild, and not America's back yard.

3. Today the computer cursor was projected onto my professor's shiny head for a total of three minutes. I laughed a lot. It looked so real.

4. Every time it rains I argue with myself whether or not I should wear my asics or flip-flops. I know that when I wear flip-flops my feet get wet, which causes them to get slippery, which then causes lots of falling, tripping, and sliding on campus. I always end up wearing them, and wishing halfway through the walk to class that I didn't. This happened again today. When will I learn?

5. Today I found written in my library cubby racial slurs and references to herpes as well as things like, "motivation," "loud noises. Ahhhh," and "Blain is a pain and thats the truth." There were also little hearts with things like, "MJ + JC" and "RB and JP forever." Really? are we still writing me + you on walls? I predict that the separation rate for those who write these " 4 ever" notes on walls is at 60% and is increasing with time. I just don't see a relationship scribbled on bathroom stall doors lasting.

6. I was reading "A Midnight's Summer's Dream" in the library today when I realized shakespear wrote his "s" as a "f".So here's an example of a would-be sentence in act I.
"I fhall confent to thy love for I refufe to deny it any longer my fweet child."
- that fentence was ftupid, but I fuppofe you got the point.

7. The class before my Nutritional Biochemistry class was talking about giving teenagers "power" in their lives so they will feel the confidence to do things like go to college. Hm...I went to college because my parents didn't give me any power to argue. They would refer to this "power" the teacher was refering to as a get out of bs for free card.

8. I passed a dead snake on the road on my walk back from class today.

9. B-Hydroxy Acyl Coenxyme A Dehydrogenase, and my personal favorite, Phosphofructokinase-1 B 1,6 Bisphosphatse are just two of the many enzymes I've memorized for an exam on wednesday

10. Driving around the library parking deck, stalking people, and driving all shady around the coerners makes me feel like a sketchy shark.

11."You know you love me,I know you care, Just shout whenever, And I'll be there
You want my love, You want my heart.And we will never ever ever be apart"...blah blah blah..."And I was like Baby, baby, baby ohhh,Like baby, baby, baby noo,Like baby, baby, baby ohh" -wise words from the Bieber. Don't judge me. This was good dance in my car music...and I have to say, I like the beat of this song...lyrics not so much.

12. When I googled "random," this is what came up. (natalie at the beginning of this post too came from this search)





That's all. I think those four pictures are as random as this post can get. Making me very happy.

My Little Hattie

There is, beneath my bed, a shoebox of letters written between the years of 1879 and 1884. And this worn shoebox I hold dearer than most things in my life. It seems insignificant from the outside, and it seems even more so after touching the worn edges of yellow sheets just inside; One can almost taste the musty and damp scent of time that has soaked into the paper. But time is what makes them so dear to me. Maybe it's because they come from somewhere, someplace that I don't belong to, a place that I can dream about because it seems better than now. I'm not sure. But reading Hattie and Jimmie's words, I wish I had what they had. I wish that I lived in a time where letters became a place of confession, and where affection was given easily with the end of a pen. Sometimes, I wish I had lived when words mattered, and when those who shared their words with us in letters, were not only confiding in us, but were sharing with us, in confidence, their hearts.

(Hillaryton) Ala August 5th 1884
Miss Hattie Oguyum

My Dearest Little Hattie,
I will this morning take the pleasure of answering your dear letter of the 31st which I received last night and contents carefully examined and proved quite pleasant and agreeable as it is allways happiness to me too read one of your dear letters. Hattie I was very glad indeed to hear that you was not feeling so sad when you written to me for if there is one thing that can render me unhappy it is the thought of your being unhappy. You said in your letter that you received I thought you silly to express your sad feeling indeed I did not. I never thought of you being silly for I dont think I ever saw ou act silly. Hattie I need you to sing for me and talk to me to keep waked up all the time for I havent slept all night but two nights since I saw you, that was last night and last Thursday night. Uncle Bille is still very bad off. I heard this morning that he was no better nor worse. (not sure) told me to tell you not to get scared at his picture and not carry it to the cow Ren for it would scare the calves to death. I dont know wheather it looks that bad or not. You will have to (stain). Well Hattie, (stain) worried for I didn’t know I dident know he was going to see her at all. Well Maby Jimmie and Hattie will surprise some one else some of these days. I hope so at least. Hattie you said in your latter that there would be preaching at the (name) church on the 7th Sunday and you hoped I would be there and I think I will be sure to be on hand at that time if nothing happens to prevent my comingdown, for then at the time I promised you I would come down and I certainly try to do what I promise you to do always for I wouldent have you to loose the least bit of confidence in me for this world. For if I was to loose your love and gain every thing else in the world, I never could be happy while life lasts. For if my future happiness depends on you, and I think you are calculated to make my future life happiness to me, and I think that is more than any one else on this earth can do, for there is no other that I can love and put the confidence in that I do no. (stain) do I expect to see any one else that I love half as well as I love you.
Hattie you said when in prayers I (not sure maybe loved) not to forget to pray. (lots of holes and stains). It has been a long time since I forgot you in my prayers, never do I expect to as long as I exist. Well I guess I have (written) enough for one time …I know you would enjoy reading my letter as well as I did yours. I would be perfectly satisfied but that I know is (impossible) for I know there is nothing to interest you so …I will close by saying good bye love and expecting an answer soon.
I remain as ever true to thee
Jimmie
P.S.
You I love and forever
You may change but I will never
Though separation be our lot
Dear little Hattie forget me no

Hattie, these are thee true sentiments of my heart…Jimmie

(theres no) joy for me
But loving thee
No rest but where thou art.
No pulse no pain
But in thy name
No home but in my heart

I assure you that the letter above is word for word from a letter written by Jimmie Weaver, my great, great, great, grandfather or something like that. Because the letters have aged, there are holes and pieces of text that I haven't been able to read, but for the most part, their words have far outlived Hattie and Jimmie. And because I wished to keep the letters as true to their writers as possible, I did not correct Jimmie's spelling: I his spelling endearing because I too cannot spell, though Jimmie was not so fortunate to have spell check.

I've read this letter, in particular, several times. I love that Jimmie calls Hattie, his dear little Hattie, because a man who would create such a sweet name for the person he loved is a man who must have loved much. I should mention that they did end up marrying, and all because of letters. From the first letter sent to this one, it is easy to see their love for one another grow, and not because Hattie wore beautiful dresses, or because of her family background, because they only saw one another, it seems, a few Sundays or Wednesdays a month, and sometimes, during prayer meetings. No, Jimmie loved Hattie for who she was...

Can you imagine someone writing you as he wrote Hattie? I can't even begin to imagine a boy writing me a letter, and on top of that, a letter where he confides his heart in me. "confidence" is a word used over and over in the letters between Hattie and Jimmie. In "confidence," you have my "confidence"...and so on. How is it they were so able to trust one anther's affection and confidence through pen and ink?

"For if I was to loose your love and gain every thing else in the world, I never could be happy while life lasts. For if my future happiness depends on you, and I think you are calculated to make my future life happiness to me, and I think that is more than any one else on this earth can do, for there is no other that I can love and put the confidence in that I do no."

What I find very disheartening, is that if these words were given to someone on paper, they would assume that they were taken from the lines of a novel, some work of fiction. I think very few people would recognize the truth in them, the life in them. Because I don't think we know what honesty is any more. I don't know if we know how to love with this kind of abandon or affection any more. I'm not saying you need to write like this to your best friend, but even Hattie and Jimmie's earlier letters were filled with warmth and affection, and in that time, they were only acquaintances.

Sometimes, I wonder if I'm too much of a romantic because I'm a writer, as if the writing part of my brain takes over and reality is shoved to the corner. I could have easily imagined love letters, filled with the kind of words Jimmie wrote, but I never would have believed they really existed outside of Shakespeare. To know that such real lines of devotion and love exist makes me think that it wasn't the writer part of me that hoped for love like theirs, but the human part of me, all of me.

I guess what I'm trying to say is. Sometimes, when I hope for these things, letters, songs, poems, words of endearment, I feel I want too much. I feel like I should tuck those things away somewhere, perhaps a journal, and leave them somewhere in the dark because they don't really exist the way I wish they did. It's not possible for them to in this time of computers, and texts, and where girls ask boys out on dates...But then when I go to sleep, I know this letter Jimmie wrote is just beneath my head. I know he was real, I know he wasn't a great writer, though he was a writer, and because I know these things, I know he must have wanted what I want, or he would have never dared to begin writing Hattie in the first place.

when I feel I want too much, or hope for too much, or imagine too much, I remember so did Jimmie, and so did Hattie, and look at the box of love, and hope, and "too much" they left behind just for me, even if they didn't do it on purpose.

Maybe our generation has lost something. Maybe we've forgotten how to be reserved and still affectionate, honest but still mysterious. I don't know. But I feel we have lost something. Because I feel that in another time, these letters would have come to me as no surprise, but in my time, they are extraordinarily rare, so much so, that it would be easier to believe they are fictional letters of love, and nothing more. Maybe we've forgotten, out of fear, rejection, or one too many heartbreaks, what it means to really give one's heart over in confidence to someone else.

Dear Boy,

WARNING: This blog contains embarrassing material. If you suffer from reading syndrome, please see your doctor before reading, this may be long. Also, there is a 99.9% chance that I might regret writing this. Thank you. Yours sincerely, Martha Lee Anne.

Dear Boy,
You’re probably going to laugh at this, or think it is completely ridiculous: I lack the much needed wit and humor to keep it light and upbeat so that you won’t drift to sleep by images of princes and white horses, but just try to stay awake for the time being (I don’t know how quick of a reader you are, so for all I know, this could take you awhile). I’m not sure really how to go about explaining myself, so I’m just going to dive straight into the deep in.
I’m waiting for you. That’s right, waiting for you. And I don’t mean in the back seat with an ax or all stalker-ish like in your front yard, I mean simply that I’m waiting for you to be my hero. If the “H” word threw you off, I’m glad I got your attention.
“What does that mean, hero?” you might be thinking. It means exactly what you think it means. Maybe you think of superman, or batman, or spidey man, but ultimately you just thought of some guy with big muscles, a good jaw line, and a cape, and you may look in the mirror and see an inadequate, clumsy, and not so muscular guy, but to me, you look better than superman, because you’re real.
I’m here to remind you that you’re my knight in shining armor, and if not mine, then someone else’s. You stopped believing in super heroes and princes when you were a kid, but God didn’t make me like you, so I still believe in those things. When I wake up, and go to bed, and walk to class in the morning, I think of you.
I hope that you’ll find me and pursue me. I hope that you’ll guard my heart. I know that you may smoke, and drink, and occasionally cuss; I know you tend to be messy and enjoy several hours of halo, but I hope that you’ll save a little room in your heart for me. Because God didn’t make me like you. He didn’t make me as brave or strong. He made me soft and gentle. He gave me a desire to nurture, and a heart to be loved.
You can laugh all you want at my stupid girly dreams, but that won’t make them go away. And it isn’t just me, we’re all like this. We may not all admit to it, but we are all hoping you’ll rescue us, and it doesn’t matter that we keep getting older and older because the desire to be pursued won’t go away. And it doesn’t matter that you are only human, because we’re only human too.
I can imagine you thinking, “I can’t do it, I’m not really brave,” and even when you stutter, and mumble your words, I’m still positive you’re a knight, and you’ve just forgotten. I think your quirks, and failures, and mistakes are beautiful, and I don’t mind them because they compliment mine. You tell me you’re too weak, but so am I. You tell me you’re nervous, but so am I.
I thought you needed to know this because sometimes I think I’m waiting for you, but you’ve forgotten about me. You’ve forgotten that I’m breakable, that my heart isn’t made of stone but glass; you’ve forgotten that your harsh words have made me cry; you’ve forgotten that your kiss could make me melt, so you melted me, and left; you’ve forgotten that you were supposed to be my knight. You’ve forgotten, but I haven’t, and I won’t.

With all my heart,
Girl

October Love

Before I begin my long explanation of my new found love of October, I would like to state that yes, I did change the name of my blog from “hearth, heaven, and everything in-between,” to “Brave Little Toaster”

1. Because writing the previous title just took too long
2. Because it didn’t riiiiiiing with me.

I recently remembered a time when a friend of mine called me the brave little toaster in high school, and because I’m not very witty, clever, or very creative when it comes to blog naming, I went with a memory. I don’t know if my blog title has anything to do with anything in this blog, but I like it, and it reminds me of the kind of person I’d like to be. I also changed the color of my blog because the black was depressing and the white letters were killing my eyes.

Ehem. So as I was going to say. I declare today, and perhaps for several years- we never know how these things go- October as my favorite month. You might be thinking to yourself, “Martha Lee Anne is the devil; how dare she prefer the month of ghouls and witches over months with things like Santy, and a giant turkey (I’m going to really let you think about who’s cooler now…Turkey lover), and Bunnies that hide eggs-and on that note, have the kids not figured out yet that it should be an Easter Chicken?

In summary, it occurred to me that October is the best month, and because I don’t feel like romancing you with paragraphs, I’ll keep things simple-generic- and in a list. Lists seem to be useful here lately; I might as well keep it going.

1. Kite season people, kite season. And whoever decided kites were just for kids needs to go eat a heaping bowl of Trix

2. October is a lady’s man (a season’s man?). He comes in saying he’s in with autumn, but in the morning you could swear it was winter. And then, as noon approaches, he’s hanging out with summer and its warm enough for you to wear your shorts and hang in the hammock outside. But later in the afternoon, the leaves rustle, the wind blows, and yep, He’s definitely only seeing autumn…or is he really? I tell you, he’s good.

3. The sky is the bluest in October. This may seem insignificant, but I find this very appealing…

4. October is the only time you can throw back shots of Reese’ Cups as passer-byers announce that there is a new pumpkin shape available. During any other month, if you were seen buying bags of candy, talking about the different shades of Reese’s, and making popcorn hands people would assume that
1. You just had a terrible breakup and now the only “sugar” you’re getting comes from the candy isle (that was so cheesy, and yet, so awesome) annnnd 2. I have no idea. I’ve never seen “normal” people do any of those things outside of October, which just proves my point.

5. October sky is a great movie

6. Blue October is a great band

7. Football season. Yes, I’m aware that football season begins BEFORE October, but I’d like to see you sit in a stadium at Auburn, Alabama during a game day...it’s not awesome, it’s freaking hot.

8. Yesterday, I carved my first jack-o-lantern. I might have accidently put a hole in my left palm, but it was nothing a little band aid couldn’t fix, or the feeling one gets when allowed to use reaalllly sharp knives on something other than cutting a sandwich in half or cutting chicken. Kiss “no playing with knives” goodbye….though I would advise you to aim carving in the opposite direction of your body to prevent injury. Knives are fun..missing body pieces, not so much.

9. “Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat.” Try using this when you go visit your neighbor in March and tell me how that works out for you.

10. SCARY MOVES! Yes! They are finally here.
The classiscs: Jason, Halloween, Nightmare on Elm Street, The Shining, The Exorcist, Poltergeist, Chucky ( I hate that doll)
The newbies: The Grudge, Shudder (saw this one the other day), Paranormal Activity, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (old one is pretty creepy), Resident Evil ( I love these movies)
The Icangotobediwthouthavingnightmares: The Night before Christmas, Hocus Pocus, The Corpse Bride, Edward Scissor Hands, Donnie Dark, Sleepy Hollow, The Boogy Man (if you have not seen this, go watch it. now.)
Oh the nightmares I might have, and the 90 minutes I spend hugging a pillow in suspense, but I am addicted to the scary movie. My roommate does not share my taste for the scary, kind of gross, and maybe just disturbing, but October graciously provides all the scary I need for the year, allowing my roommate to pick out all the chick flicks she can handle. Though I do like scary, I might not be able to bring myself to watch The Last Exorcism by myself…demon/ghost stuff just freaks me out.

11. ARrrrrg…in October, if I want to be a pirate, dag gummite, I can be a pirate. If I don’t want to brush my hair, and wear an eye patch, and put on hideous red lipstick and eyeliner, I can. I can wear red and white striped stockings and a fake bird on my shoulder. I can say “ARrrrrg” after everything I say, and be considered a completely sane individual. (I would like to state, however, that I have yet to be a pirate for Halloween, but it will happen)

That’s all. I think the list makes some pretty valid points at why October is the best month of the year. And because I am a huge fan of all things cheesy and stupid, I will leave you with words of wisdom…

Me: “What’s the Pirate’s favorite letter in the Alphabet??
You: (laughing at the obviousness of the answer) “Rrrrrrr.”
Me: (laughing at all you still have to learn, while using my best pirate voice): “Nooooo, it’s the Ceeee”

p.s. I use this joke many times a year, and I never fail to laugh… a lot when saying “ceeeeeee”.
p.s.s. Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat.
P.s.s.s. (is that even allowed?) if you didn’t know…the above is from a song, yes, a real song. And I’ll leave the lyrics so you can laugh at them, and then, secretly, try to memorize them.

It was very late one Halloween night,
after all the trick-or-treaters were sound asleep.
I thought I heard a knock on my front door,
so I snuggled down deeper into my sheets.
The knock kept knocking, louder and louder.
Finally it knocked me wide awake.
I tumbled downstairs to see what was the matter, (really? Tumbled down stairs.are you sure you don't need a neck brace? An Ambulance?)
yelled, "What do you want, for goodness sake?" and heard,

Chorus:
"Trick or treat, smell my feet.
Give me something good to eat.
If you don't, I won't be sad.
I'll just make you wish you had!"
It was a tiny old troll with a long white beard,
a pointy red hat, and a crooked grin.
I said, "Listen kid, that's a really cute costume,
but I ran out of candy at half-past ten."
I slammed the door and I locked all the latches,
took two aspirin for my aching head, (ahhh, there we go, some aspirin for that tumble)
went back to my room and was startled to discover
that rude little troll sitting on my bed! He said,

(chorus)
I decided to find out who was in the costume.
I pinned him down and yanked his beard.
The troll cried "Ouch!" and ran into the corner.
He hopped three times and disappeared.
I woke the next morning, happily believing
that the funny little troll was only a dream.
I turned on the TV, and guess who I saw singing
in his pointy red hat on channel three? He sang,

(chorus)
I flipped around through all the different channels.
Every single one was Troll TV.
I pulled the plug, but that was only the beginning.
All week long the troll pestered me.
He kept popping up in the least likely places.
Twenty three times I chased him away.
His crooked little grin was driving me crazy,
and by now you know all he had to say was
(chorus)

Finally I did the only thing that I could think of.
I bought a half-pound bag of sweets.
That day the troll was hiding in the bathtub
when I found him and I gave him his trick-or-treat.
He tucked the candy underneath his hat,
then he hopped three times and he disappeared.
And though he never did come back,
I still dream about the troll with the long white beard


….your welcome for that….I personally think the troll needs rehab, The girl needs to get over her crush for the troll, and where are the parents?