Those bare finger nails were moving in the fastest, tumultuous, frenzy ten minutes, three tears, and two f-bombs ago to the beat of what I swear was going to be one of my best blog posts of the year. And then… and THEN… my internet decided in the most recent auto-save to erase the words of my ever searching heart and replace them with these.
Today, you are miss sass, live it true.
So I paused. and painted my nails red. This sassy red, it’s called “crimson,” I actually think I’ve had this color since 2006 when Tasha left it in my apartment… thanks girl, you’re the best sass teacher I know…. and as I painted, I played Beyonce. And she was singing that soul of hers out. and so was I.
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and then, I felt like I just wasn’t living that sass to it’s truest potential. So I put on my new red shoes and sat back down with Mac (no Smithwicks tonight though, friends). Mike is here instead. He’s a bit sweeter…. get it……. hah. ha. hah…….
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I’m going to let you all in on a little secret. Under this warm, comfy blanket are my unshaved legs covered by running tights that I’ve had on since 8 a.m. Guess who did not go running today? *raises hand* Yup, that’s right, her name is Miss Sass.
Guess what Miss Sass did instead…. she went shopping.
And you know what that shopping trip spelt? It spelled sass like this….
.jpg "Photo Nov 16, 12 45 13 PM")
and then it continued spelling it with these….that SASS! She sure does know how to take a hold of my weakness….
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and you may have noticed the big bag in back of the shoes. That’s right, Miss Sass believes that 3’s a charm.
.jpg "Photo Nov 16, 5 53 03 PM")
and just so you know, my favorite part about these suede shoes with the 4 inch heels isn’t the cheeky mood they put me in…. it’s the tiffany blue box in the background. That Jessica Simpson really knows the way to our sassy hearts!
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my name is Nicole and I have a problem. My real name is Miss Sass. And I am a shoe-a-holic that is hiding a spending habit behind a closed door in her parents house to avoid the, “Aren’t you supposed to be paying for grad school in a couple months?” from her father. Her mother on the other hand taught her sass and it went something like this:
Oh wait. That’s probably too R-rated even for this mood.
Salt-n-Pepa just came on my sassy girl mix. <insert dance in my red shoes and running tights here. “Ahh, push it. PUSH IT REAL GOOD!” > Hey Sass, I’m over here.
Okay, all sass aside. The post that inspired a sass reaction was about pushing it, pushing it real good. Because my faith these days is like running a marathon, an ultra marathon, that’s up hill. the. entire. way. and I effing hate hills, and I especially hate these steep slopes that my faith insists I run today. Darlings, I can’t lie to you, running in these new red shoes makes it better… and those leopard print shoes, I’m convinced I’m closer to winning the race…..
My faith is my faith. When I write about it, I have this small voice of my cousin (very small as in “consider the source”) in the background saying “Oh yeah, I love her writing, but sometimes, she can get really God-y..” She wasn’t talking about me, but the insecure, unsassed me wondered if that was some sort of hint…. for the other 96 of you, thanks for at least keeping it to yourself if I get too “God-y.” Just know that now, if you choose to say something, I may go all sass on yo’ ass.
So you’ve been warned–I’m about to whip out this faith of mine. Because regardless of how distant I’ve felt from it lately, it’s there, and it’s NEVER going away. Bring out the “God-y”..
Let me start it like this (John Michael Montgomery, thank you!):
Life’s a dance– you learn as you go, sometimes you lead, sometimes you follow. Don’t worry ’bout what you don’t know, Life’s a dance, you learn as you go…
I love to dance, I love it better when I’m wearing red shoes. track with me darlings…. I miss dancing in my apartment being sexy and knowing it… To tell you the truth, if it weren’t for Miss Sass that possessed me a little over 32 minutes ago, I would have gone a full 23 days without my very own dance party. I’ve replaced my dance parties with soul dancing for Jesus. It looks like this:
Sweet, fancy, MOSES. I look like a freakin’ idiot because no matter how much sass I have, I still don’t know where in the hell to go or what in the hell I’m doing…except this: go where He leads, live where He leads–and right now, minus the school parts, my heart’s not so happy with where He’s taking me. But… because my soul is doing it for him, He thinks this dancing is freakin’ awesome. He’s a little partial since He created me to be His masterpiece….shoot. Keep me living for you sweet Jesus. Keep me learning. Keep my praying. Keep me DANCING.
And in the words of the sassiest of all ladies, the one, the only ALANIS!
You live.
You learn.
You love.
You learn.
You cry.
You learn.
You lose.
You learn.
You bleed.
You learn.
You scream.
You learn.
You greive.
You learn.
You laugh.
You learn.
You pray.
You learn.
You ask.
You learn.
You live.
You learn.
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Friends, life is short. Buy the shoes. Just learn to go ahead and BUY THE SHOES. and then dance. dance in them in a way that will have people saying “Sweet, fancy, moses…” that sass girl’s a nut, but at least she’s living………
at least I’m living.
