Going Deeper...

Have you ever been reading one of my blogs and stumbled across a word or phrase that made you think, "what in the world is that supposed to mean?" Here is where you can earn a deeper understanding of what is commonly known as "Rosie-slang".

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It came from my story.

In 2012 when I started this website, I was involved in some pretty suspicious, scary, and sneaky stuff. I put myself through things that would take me years to finally free myself from.

During that time, it was fun, immediately rewarding, and I could do whatever I wanted. I considered myself an Undercover Secret Agent.

A few months after that original consideration, I realized (after a series series of unfortunate events, last resorts, and tears) that I was on the wrong side. I was one of the burglars, rather than the secret agent working to stop the burglar. I shamefacedly crawled across the line, and with some help from fellow secret agents, built a wall that would keep me from going back.

With my website came a door that I could write through, and much like the apostle Paul, I've been able to help others come across the line.

So that's why I'm an Undercover Secret Agent.

But let me ask you a question. Are you a secret agent or a burglar? 

That's a good question. Either you can pronounce it "L-O-A-U-S-A" or you can slur it all together, like "lahw-ooh-saa." You just have to purse your lips out and squint your eyes and make a really funny face. Or, you can just draw it out all long and fancy and be like, "So I was reading on the Life of an Undercover Secret Agent Blog today..." Your choice. Good question, though. 

"FNTAKL" is a phrase used by my family. It started as a mis-read license plate and ended up as an everyday word used by my family. Here's the story. (The following is an excerpt from an introduction to a poetry project that I did for my Freshman year English class.)

As Rascal Flatts put it, "Life is a Highway." In many ways, it is. You can't always see the end, but you know it exists. "FNTAKL" (Fun to kill) is an old saying of my parents'. When they lived in California, they noticed one of those personalized license plates around town that read "FNTAKL". In an effort to decode the meaning behind the six letters before the light turned green, they read it as "fun to kill". Looking back, they realized it probably was an abbreviation of "fanatical", but by then it was too late.  So now, every adventure we embark upon begins and ends with FNTAKL. In conversation, my mom usually remarks loudly "Goin' to have some fun to kill!!" And our whole family becomes relatively excited. 

So that's the story of FNTAKL. 

Because she is. :) Really, I love my mom. I'm lucky to be able to call her my best friend. And if you got to know her, you'd understand why I call her crazy. Let me introduce you. (I wrote the following essay for a radio contest. I won a night stay for the two of us at Glen Eyrie castle.) 

How do I describe my mom? I’ve often struggled with that very question. 

My mom is…..<insert correct adjective here>.  

I don’t think there’s a single adjective in this very language that would or could ever describe my mom. She is stunning. She is smart. She is adventurous. She is loving, kind, patient. She’s an amazing cook, and crafter. I don’t have enough time in my life to do all of the things she does. 

An average day for her consists of coming home from work around 7am, getting my brother up for school, making breakfast and lunch for him, shipping him off, then getting on her computer to check Facebook and her Email, figuring out what’s for dinner, sticking a dead bird in the crockpot, and then usually heading up to bed. Five or six hours later, I wake her up. She listens to my school drama, works me through life. She’s a great listener, and respects the opinions of people around her. Then she gets up, jumping in the shower, where she conserves water in a bucket that weighs more than me. She does her hair, perfectly. Not a single strand out of place. She then convinces me to do my homework, a daily struggle in my house. She goes downstairs, listening to my dad talk about a new property that is in our price range, and takes the bird out of the crockpot, getting its guts all over her hands. I then ask her to proofread whatever essay I happen to be working on at the moment, and she pauses to do just that. Making some edits, she goes back to messing with the bird, at the same talking to my dad about his day, making fast-paced decisions and putting the bird in the oven on warm. She checks what area she’s working in that night, throws some food and whatever project she’s working on in her bag, eats quickly with the family, talking to us about life, and then leaves for work, where she spends her night bringing new babies into the world and coaching new moms about mom-ing.  

When she gets some time off, she convinces the family to do something outrageous, like trek up an icy mountain waterfall, rappel down the side of a 2,000 foot cliff, trek up sand dunes while wind is throwing sand in your face, or visit all 50 states by the time I turn 18.  

She does all of this, and yet still puts the same amount of energy into keeping Jesus #1. She keeps the family in line, and measures a perfect balance between singing at the top of her lungs in the grocery store, and helping my brother and me with ten page essays. I could say so much more, but, in order to stay in the 500 word limit, I have to sum it up into two single adjectives. My mom is Fearless. But she makes it look flawless. She's Crazy with a capital C. 

True Story.