God & Tim Tebow

I'm a huge fan of the Broncos. I'm a huge fan of Tim Tebow. In fact, Tebow was on my fantasy team this year and he made me proud.

If you have a facebook, which I'm sure you do, you probably read almost as many statuses dedicated to Tebow as I did this past Sunday. Don't get me wrong, I was cheering for the Broncos and ecstatic that Tebow rocked as much as he did.

But I have a complaint.

My favorite status, from an anonymous facebooker, was this: "Tebow wins because God loves him!"

Huh. Ok. Really. Um. Ok. Well.

What happens when Tebow loses? Does God not love him anymore? The Broncos will most likely not win the Superbowl, which means sometime in the next month they're going to lose. If Tebow wins as a result of God's love and favor, does that mean he loses as a result of LOSING God's love and favor? 

If you nodded your head in agreement to that question, I think you're gross. 

I love that Tebow is an unashamed Christian. I love that he loves God. I love that he plays football. I love that he wins football.

But I don't love when people condition God's love.

God loves Tebow when he wins. God loves Tebow when he loses.

That being said, when the Broncos eventually lose I expect to see dozens of facebook statuses saying: "God loves Tebow when he loses."

P.S. Go Broncos!!!

Bella & William Wilberforce

Earlier this evening I decided to watch Amazing Grace. I'd never seen the movie, even though I'm pretty sure everyone and his brother told me watch it. Not only have I heard good things about it, however, but I left all of my movies at school. So it was between Amazing Grace and Marmaduke.

(If you haven't seen Marmaduke, don't. It is, bar none, the worst movie I have ever seen. And I actually LIKE Twilight. So you know it must be bad.)

Early on in the movie, Bella came and joined me. I didn't really think about the fact that maybe, just maaaaaybe, I shouldn't let my 7 year old niece watch a fairly graphic movie about slavery. But, you know, I'm the cool, hip, fun aunt....so I don't tell her no!

By the end of the movie, I'd pretty much fallen asleep (nothing against the movie...I just sleep a lot) and Bella was humming her own rendition of the song Amazing Grace. We were both content.

But then, as the credits began to roll, I glanced at Bella and saw a dangerously dubious look on her face. I crossed my fingers that she would NOT have any questions. I mean, she totally understood the slave trade and equality of men, right?

Have I ever told you how unlucky I am? I'm unlucky.

"Dani...?" She murmured.

"Um.....yes?" I muttered back, without even looking at her.

"I don't....I don't really understand...." She stammered.

WHAT? WHAT DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND? GO ASK YOUR MOM! GO ASK MY MOM!

"Well," she began again, "I just don't really understand something."

She took a deep breath as I realized I'd been holding my own.

I promised her I'd do my best to answer her question. As relief washed over her face, she looked me in the eye and asked:

"Why do the men wear nightgowns?"

How to train your dog

The title of this post is somewhat deceptive. I did that on purpose. Why? Since honesty is supposedly the best policy, I'll be honest. I was afraid that if I made the title what this post is actually about, you'd all be too busy crying and feeling miserable to read my blog.

"Hey, Dani Mustard," you say, "What IS this post about, then?"

I'm glad you asked.

This post is dedicated to my dog, Madeline Joy. It's basically a compilation of all the reasons she is better than your dog. I'm sorry if that offended Spots or Mr. Scruffy, but it's true. And honesty is my policy...

So, grab a few tissues for yourself (or maybe a stress ball?) and a bone for your dog, and get ready to learn about Mad Dog's brilliance.

1. She is adorable. Always has been, always will be. I mean, she's a chocolate lab, so that's pretty much reason enough to love her. But better than that, she is 100% deformed. We don't know why. But it's a fact. Her head is way too small for her body, and it makes you wanna pinch hur leetle cheeks!

2. She is obedient. Ok, so, you know how you put puppies in a kennel at night and when you're not at home? Right, we did that with Maddie. To this day, she will walk to her kennel and stay in it (EVEN IF YOU DON'T CLOSE THE DOOR) whenever we leave the house or go to bed. She's almost 4 years old, and she is the best listener ever. So good that she obeys commands we don't even give her.

3. She gives head massages. You don't believe me? Will the dog saliva all over my head convince you otherwise? Seriously, chickies, she gives great massages. The slobber can be a little revolting at times, but I just pretend it's lotion and everything is ok.

Those are my three favorite reasons that Maddie is the greatest dog around town. I'd take full credit for her awesomeness, but she really learned everything on her own. (Add "motivated" to her list of attributes.)

Here's a photo of her and Bella back when they were both young pups.

You won't want to miss my next post, titled, "How to train your niece."

Vicodin and politics

Tuesday, January 3rd is a pretty memorable day for me, for a few reasons. First, I had maxillofacial surgery. Second, the Iowa Caucus went down, clown.


If you don't know what maxillofacial surgery is, don't worry. It's just the cool way of saying I had my wisdom teeth dug out of my head. No big deal. Actually, it WAS a big deal.


I distinctly remember talking about Star Wars with my nurses as my "happy gas" set in and I fell into a deep sleep. After waking up from my "nap," I was still talking about Star Wars. According to my mom, I talked to her about my boy Luke for a good hour before she finally told me to stop.


"Enough about Star Wars!" you say, "I got enough of that in the 80's when it was actually sort of cool." Ok, ok. Forgive me for being utterly outdated.


When I got home, my mom gave me a boat load of vicodin (drugs) and a milkshake. My mouth was still entirely numb, so it came as no surprise that the majority of the milkshake never made it into my recently obliterated mouth; most of it was on my chin. or the counter. or my shirt. If you don't believe me, my mom took pictures. Because, you know, she really loves me.


About this time, Fox News started following the Iowa Caucus. And the good news is that even when I'm on drugs, I still enjoy a night of Fox News covering corn field politics. But seriously, I was ecstatic.


I was all snuggled up on the couch, eating chocolate pudding and texting fellow political lame-o, Reed. We were cheering for Santorum and Romney. Actually, we were really just hoping Ron Paul would LOSE. Which, for all practical purposes, he did. Holla at yer gurll!


I'm not going to go into details as to WHY I dislike Ronny so much, but suffice it to say that I think he'd make a worse President than my 7 year old niece. And she still thinks unicorns are real.


I'm going to try to post a video that you should watch. It made me laugh for five years straight. It's of my dear friend Mr. Paul. I'm not convinced it's even dubbed over.....

And then Henry Roth came along....

I never believed this moment would come. But it has. And I can say, without a doubt, that something within me has changed; I will never be the same. (Alright, fine, maybe that is slightly dramatized.)

Anyway.

Pnina Tornai is no longer my favorite wedding gown designer.

"WHAT?" you say, with a scoff and a sneer. "She practically raised you. Pnina made you the wedding dress fanatic that you are. Where would you be without her?"

My response: I know. I know. I know. Nowhere.

But hear me out, please!

Pnina is a brilliant designer. She is always coming up with new and brilliant, although sometimes straight up weird, designs. One of my all times favorites of hers is this:

See what I mean? She rocks. But you already knew that....

So, who is this Henry Roth who mysteriously swept in and stole Pnina's crown? Huh, only the greatest guy around. (Ignore that his name sounds like the name of the man who should've designed Laura Ingalls Wilder's wedding gown.)

I'd be wasting my time if I were to talk about Henry Roth. Afterall, the proof is in the pudding, no? So here it is. ENJOY.

And another...

Now that you, too, are madly in love with Henry Roth and his designs, let's have a toast to happiness.

Call me crazy, daisy

As I sat here deciding what I wanted to write about for my FIRST EVER BLOG POST, everything from politics to weddings came to mind. (Actually, I only had two ideas: politics and weddings. But anyway.) I decided against those grand topics, and decided I'd just write a cutesie-tootise little welcome post.

So, welcome, chickies. I promise to do my best to write things worth reading. This is going to be a great adventure and I'm sure we'll all have the time of our lives.

(I just had that horrible feeling I get when I'm talking to myself. Out loud. In public. Now I'm wondering if anyone will even read my blog. Unfortunately, the odds are not in my favor. Oh well.)

So here it is. My attempt at blogging. My attempt at speaking my thoughts and posting them in a somewhat artistic yet organized manner. Call me a dreamer. Call me crazy.