Friday, November 30, 2007


I gotta tell you, I run into this kinda stuff and it just makes me itch my head... Makes me wonder if we can afford more children (I know... trust me, I know what you're gonna say). But COME ON! Did you read that crap? Throwing money at the problem just doesn't make me feel any better. must. do. more. But since adopting more kids seems nuts and donating money doesn't feel like enough - what to do? I mean, we aren't talkin' National Geographic here... we're talking about real human beings. Real human beings that coulda been us. Afterall, who chooses where or to whom they're born?

  • Every 15 SECONDS, another child becomes an AIDS orphan in Africa
  • Every DAY 5,760 more children become orphans
  • Every YEAR 2,102,400 more children become orphans (in Africa alone)
  • 143,000,000 Orphans in the world today spend an average of 10 years in an orphanage or foster home
  • Approximately 250,000 children are adopted annually, but…
  • Every YEAR 14,050,000 children still grow up as orphans and AGE OUT of the system
  • Every DAY 38,493 children AGE OUT
  • Every 2.2 SECONDS, another orphan child AGES OUT with no family to belong to and no place to call home
  • In Ukraine and Russia 10% -15% of children who age out of an orphanage commit suicide before age 18.
  • 60% of the girls are lured into prostitution. 70% of the boys become hardened criminals.
  • Reliable statistics are difficult to find, even the sources often list only estimates, and street children are rarely included. But even if these figures are exaggerated by double, it is still an unacceptable tragedy that over a Million children would still become orphans every year, and every year 7 Million children would still grow to adulthood as orphans with no one to belong to and no place to call home.

What to do?
What to do...

P.S. If you randomly ended up here because of some of the words used on this post, please check out Bryan Post.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Here's what I was talking about...

Sorry for not giving background...

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

A lesson learned

I was trying to convince Miss Brasil tonight that we can all learn something from the classic musicals. So here's to you, T! READ IT AND WEEP. Just because it's a bunch of boys dancing around in tight clothes while singing doesn't mean that there's no depth!

Gee, Officer Krupke
(West Side Story circa 1957)
- someone pretends to be the Sergeant while Action sings:
Dear kindly Sergeant Krupke,
You gotta understand,
It's just our bringin' up-ke
That gets us out of hand.
Our mothers all are junkies,
Our fathers all are drunks.
Golly Moses, naturally we're punks!

Gee, Officer Krupke, we're very upset;
We never had the love that ev'ry child oughta get.
We ain't no delinquents,
We're misunderstood.
Deep down inside us there is good!

There is good!

There is good, there is good,
There is untapped good!
Like inside, the worst of us is good!

SNOWBOY: (Spoken) That's a touchin' good story.

ACTION: (Spoken) Lemme tell it to the world!

SNOWBOY: Just tell it to the judge.

ACTION - Someone pretends to be the judge while Action sings:
Dear kindly Judge, your Honor,
My parents treat me rough.
With all their marijuana,
They won't give me a puff.
They didn't wanna have me,
But somehow I was had.
Leapin' lizards! That's why I'm so bad!

DIESEL: (As Judge) Right!

Diesel says to boy pretending to be the
Officer Krupke, you're really a square;
This boy don't need a judge, he needs an analyst's care!
It's just his neurosis that oughta be curbed.
He's psychologic'ly disturbed!

I'm disturbed!

We're disturbed, we're disturbed,
We're the most disturbed,
Like we're psychologic'ly disturbed.

DIESEL: (Spoken, as Judge) In the opinion on this court, this child is depraved on account he ain't had a normal home.

ACTION: (Spoken) Hey, I'm depraved on account I'm deprived.

DIESEL: So take him to a headshrinker.

ACTION (Sings)
My father is a bastard,
My ma's an S.O.B.
My grandpa's always plastered,
My grandma pushes tea.
My sister wears a mustache,
My brother wears a dress.
Goodness gracious, that's why I'm a mess!

A-RAB: (As Psychiatrist) Yes!
Officer Krupke, you're really a slob.
This boy don't need a doctor, just a good honest job.
Society's played him a terrible trick,
And sociologic'ly he's sick!

I am sick!

We are sick, we are sick,
We are sick, sick, sick,
Like we're sociologically sick!

A-RAB: In my opinion, this child don't need to have his head shrunk at all. Juvenile delinquency is purely a social disease!

ACTION: Hey, I got a social disease!

A-RAB: So take him to a social worker!

ACTION - says to boy pretending to be a social worker:
Dear kindly social worker,
They say go earn a buck.
Like be a soda jerker,
Which means like be a schumck.
It's not I'm anti-social,
I'm only anti-work.
Gloryosky! That's why I'm a jerk!

BABY JOHN: (As Female Social Worker)
Officer Krupke, you've done it again.
This boy don't need a job, he needs a year in the pen.
It ain't just a question of misunderstood;
Deep down inside him, he's no good!

I'm no good!

We're no good, we're no good!
We're no earthly good,
Like the best of us is no damn good!

DIESEL (As Judge)
The trouble is he's crazy.

A-RAB (As Psychiatrist)
The trouble is he drinks.

BABY JOHN (As Female Social Worker)
The trouble is he's lazy.

The trouble is he stinks.

The trouble is he's growing.

The trouble is he's grown.

Krupke, we got troubles of our own!

Gee, Officer Krupke,
We're down on our knees,
'Cause no one wants a fellow with a social disease.
Gee, Officer Krupke,
What are we to do?
Gee, Officer Krupke,
Krup you!

Monday, November 26, 2007

Entering the 21st Century

I know that you all have been here for quite sometime, but I want you to know that I have returned. I turned my back against you all with all of your gadgets (*clearing throat* that would be... uhhh... cell phones) and stood firm in my ground. But I'm back now. I figured that Southy, of all people would be proud of me ;) I can no longer claim old school.

And so, let's take a moment to look back at what has propelled me to get cell phones in the past:

In 2001, I got my first cell phone. Not because I could afford it. Don't fall for that mess.
It all started on a dark and stormy night. Back then, it was just Miss Z and I. I was working part time and going to nursing school full time and trying to give all of my focus to my adorable baby girl. To say the least, life was an uphill battle. Anyhow, I had been studying for an AP exam with another single mom friend of mine and it was around 10pm when Miss Z and I left to head home. I took 405 home and was on the S-Curves in Renton when one of my tires blew. (Now, for those of you who haven't a clue what freeway I'm talking about, the section that I'm referring to has zero shoulders and is a very curvy and dangerous place to break down.) I pulled over as much as one possibly could, grabbed my baby and climbed over the wall of the freeway to take a hike in the disgusting trash that people toss out their windows while whizzing by at 65-75 mph (it's nearly impossible to go faster than that there). I quickly walked along the freeway, apprehensive about who might be doing whateva between me and downtown (if there is such a thing) Renton.
Some NASTY dudes in a rape van pulled off of the freeway and offered to help. I, of course, lied through my teeth about how I had already called and my husband was on his way. I thought about how woman are taught go potty on themselves if anyone tries to rape them. The guys were freaky and I didn't need to go potty. I just kept walking, holding Baby Z tighter, while I turned down their 'offer'. I was headed for a gas station in the distance and no one was coming between me and that pay phone. Especially men who wanted to kidnap me. They began reversing on 405, trying to continue the conversation with me. My pace became a jog as I yelled to them that "My husband is meeting me right over there (I pointed to the closest well lit area). NO THANK YOU!"
To make a long story short, my step dad came and helped me change my tire and I drove home with one teeny tire, safe and sound. I got a cell phone that weekend to assure myself that that would never happen again. I kept that phone for a while but ended up in an argument with AT&T over my bill. I was pissed but couldn't prove my innocence. In haste, I shut off the phone before the contract was up. They made me pay for the extra minutes (I had ordered a larger plan but they said that they had no record of that) and $400 for breaking contract. Did I mention that I was a single mom with a part time job at St@rbucks as my only income? Yeah. But I did promise that manager that I would tell everyone that I knew not to ever use AT&T. I have followed through with that promise (however, my little brother told me that Singular bought out AT&T but continues to use the name?). Poo heads taking advantage of people who can't help themselves. But that's a whole 'nother blog.

Christmas of 2004.
My MIL got me one of those prepaid phones which worked out perfect. When we had extra money, we put minutes on it. When we didn't have any extra money, momma didn't have a phone. I kept that phone for about... well until we were in our first adoption. My regular visits to the salon, cell phone time, and my weakness for shopping in general were all cut from our budget.

Yesterday 2007.
If you haven't noticed, cars break down on me more than your average human being. We don't drive brand new cars but they aren't junkers either. Not to mention that I'm far too PARANOID to drive them if I even think that they might break down. When I drive away in them, they aren't broken. They never break when my husband is driving them. Apparently this is my special problem. The event at Barnes and Noble last week was when I had finally had enough. I wish that we could depend on one another for help, but we just can't. Humans tend to look out for themselves. That's just the way that it is. So, my butt went out and got a phone.

The end.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Giving Thanks

Would you listen along as you read the lyrics?? PLEASE!?! I know, I know... I don't actually read song lyrics either... but this time? for me? The link to the music file is below us. See it? It's orange. Right click on the link and scroll to 'open link in a new window'. That way you can be two places at once ;)

Since I Am So Sick
Don Chaffer
(Enter The Worship Circle)

Since I am so sick
Since I am in need
Since I have no healing within me

Oh, my God, be mindful of me
You are my help and my Redeemer
Oh, my God, be mindful of me
You are my help and my Redeemer

Unto You, oh Lord
I lift up my soul
In Your loving-kindness I believe

Surely those who wait on You
Will never be ashamed
All of those who call on You
Will know the faithfulness of Your name
We sing to the faithfulness to your name
It will never fail
The faithfulness of your name

Though He saved me
Yet will I trust in Him?

You are God
An amazing God
Who can compare to you infiniteness?
Who can compare to your glorious love?

All that I need to know
Is that you love me so

Everything that I can claim as my own... all of the things that I'm thankful for are wrapped in God. All that I have that is good all came from Him and Him alone. Thank you Jesus. Thank you for loving me in my times of greatest need and in my times of stubborn independance. Regardless of my actions, you are always there for me. Thank you

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Sunday News

I don't know if you've opened up your Sunday paper yet or not but I think that it made front page news. Alright, maybe it got shortened a bit and shoved into the back near some bad advertising and so all the more reason to share the news with you ;) We got word this week that all the paperwork for our adoption is done. It has been received in Liberia and all that we do now is sit on our hands while waiting for travel dates. Can you believe it!?!

And even more importantly, my fear is finally dying down. It felt like my prayers had been flying off to never never land. I was pretty sure that God wasn't listening because as our adoption of Big P has continued, my fear grew like an unswept dust ball (my mom calls them ghost turds) underneath the entertainment center. Lurking there it would show itself whenever a toy slid beneath the tv. One of the kids would slide their innocent hand beneath it and pull out a disgusting conglomeration of hair, dust, lint, and small garbage. And yet we all threw it back and it just grew bigger under there.

A few times when the adoption would come up, I'd paste on a fakey smile and pretend like I was happy. Or, in most cases, I would tell an unsuspecting victim the truth (and they would walk away shaken up and promising themselves to never again ask me about it how our adoption was going). And what a surprise, right? Who wouldn't be excited to adopt a 10yr old stranger with epilepsy from another country halfway across the world?

And so I prayed.
And prayed.
And prayed.

I guess that I've been afraid that it would all fall apart before my eyes. That he would have a seizure and die before I got there. That once he got home, I wouldn't be able to teach him jack (since he's 10 with no education he'll have to stay home until he can catch up with the kids his age). That he's mean to the littler kids because he'll be the oldest? Or that while I was down there, he'd dislike me or cry the whole time for his real mom or assume that all I am (being a white woman in Africa) is cash... that he wouldn't look to me as his momma. What if everything fails? WHAT IF!?!

And finally, for the first time, my heart is beating for this boy... for my son. Out of nowhere, I am suddenly ready to risk certain death for someone that I've never laid eyes on. I am ready to accept his unacceptance. I'm ready to hug him even if he doesn't hug back. I'm ready to teach him even if I suck at teaching and he doesn't want to learn. I'm ready to be his mom. And as crazy as it seems not only am I ready, I am excited!!

God has answered my prayers and he has filled me with an unexplainable love for Big P. Beyond understanding, beyond fear, beyond rationality. This is the love that God gives. This is the love that bubbles over from my heart... the love that I will get to share with my son. MY son. heehee!

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

I'm over here with the poorly treated crack addicts.

I'm still here - just CRAZY busy!

(WARNING: excuses to follow. If you don't want to read them, feel free to skip the paragraph in it's entirety.)

My little brother flew in from a three year stint in Italy and so I have been hanging out with him every possible second, Miss Z had her 7th birthday and we celebrated it with 3 different factions of our family 3 different times, I've been absorbing myself in the dialog that's going on over at The Shack, Husband has been picking up extra hours to save for Liberia this = less time for me to fiddle around, and that's all that I can think of for now.

Miss Z and goofy Husband at one of the parties

Last night Miss Z and I were with mi madre so that mi madre could purchase Miss Z books that she got to pick out herself (Ended up being some princess junk and some pretty pony junk. Mi madre and Miss Z hid them from me until we reached the car. They are a dangerous duo.) We exited the Banes and Noble at 7pm sharp. I remember this because nothing happens on the sharp for me. Nothing... except this. ANYHOW! When Miss Z and I reached the car that I was driving, we both climbed in and performed the usual duties of entering the car. Problem was that the car didn't perform it's usual duties. I turned the key.
Tried again, this time making sure that the clutch was all of the way in.
So I sat there, in the dark and freezing cold car, for a minute in order to figure out our plan of action. Run to get mi madre's attention! I yelled at Miss Z to stay in the car as I made a mad dash for her volvo which was quickly exiting the parking lot. Waiving my arms and screaming like a lunatic didn't work.
She drove off.
Back to the car for another think.
Miss Z and I decided that our next best bet was to call Husband and see if he could give me some verbal advise on how to get the freakin' thing started. So we went to the front counter and asked the cute clerk if I could use the phone.
"Sorry?" I asked
"There's a pay phone by the restrooms."
"A pay phone?" I stared at the phone that was an inch from her hand.
"A pay phone... by the bathroom." She said apologetic words and yet her tone was unbending. So we walked to the restrooms and upon reaching the phone, I realized that I only had .35 cents on me and half of it was in pennies. Trying not to be irritated, we walked back up to the front counter.
what I was hoping our exchange would look like...

"I don't suppose that you give cash back?"
"No. No cash back." the same chick stared at me blankly
"It's just that I don't have enough change to make the call..."
"Sorry." Again, the words that exited her mouth carried no sorrow.
"It's cool." I said while I grabbed Miss Z's hand and we headed for Office Max, directly next door. I bought some gum, got 4 quarters, and briskly headed back to the pay phone. Now, let me be honest here. I was so near tears at this point that I am embarrassed to admit it. I was frustrated to no end at the situation before me. But we kept walking and I didn't cry like a wuss. As we neared the stanky bathrooms, I could hear a woman talking.
'No! Please no!' I thought to myself. But oh yes... someone was on the phone and they were talking about church and living situations and I didn't want to interrupt her so Miss Z and I stood near and tried to not listen (obviously this didn't work). After about 10 minutes of waiting, I figured that we needed a new tactic. Miss Z and I headed out to the parking lot where I planned to ask nice looking people for a jump.
Seriously... not being factious at all, I asked about 15 different people and they all acted like I was going to jump them to support my crack habit. FOR REAL! They locked their doors or walked quicker away from Miss Z and I! They pretended like they didn't hear me, some just looked at me crazy and kept walking! It was 7:30 at night on a Monday in a bookstore parking lot, I was with my daughter, we looked like we always do AND THEY RAN FROM US. I was trying really hard to remain calm. Miss Z was getting a little freaked out by the whole thing (Asking why no one would even listen to us ask for help and "aren't any of them Christians, Mom?" You try answering that one!) So we went back inside to see if chica was off the phone yet.
Nope. 20 minutes later, she was still on.
So we waited some more but this time Miss Z kept peeking in so that she would notice that we were waiting for a turn. A few minutes later she got off and Miss Z and I made the sad call to Husband (he gets up at 3am to go to work and he's got 4 kids in pj's with him... not to mention that we're about 20 minutes from home). Husband, always the helper, says that he'll be there as soon as possible. I hang up the phone and it gave me my money back. That was probably the highlight of my evening... a free phone call. So Miss Z and I headed back out to the car (7:45 now) and it's clear so it's extra cold. We sit in the car to wait until I notice two Ethiopian buddies that had been in the Starbucks there in the bookstore studying. I plea to one of them for help.
30 seconds later, he and his buddy are trying to work some magic on the broken car. We make small talk and I thank them profusely. They tease Miss Z and so she teases back. However...
The car wouldn't start.
"The battery is toe-tally dead. Toe-tally." one of the boys says to me regretfully
"Are you sure? I mean can't the connection be bad or something?" I'm pleading as if their opinion could change fact.
"No. Toe-tally dead."
I thank them more and set them free from our problem. They drive off into the night in their working vehicles as I watch on in jealousy. Miss Z take our positions in the frigid car and wait for Husband's arrival by reading one of her new books.
Husband arrives, fiddles with the connection a bit, attempts to jump the car and the car starts. Can you believe it? That little took that much drama... c'est la vie!

Wednesday, November 7, 2007


You guys gotta do this, post it on your blog and then tell me who this thing says you look like!!! Too funny!

Beyonce?? YA RIGHT! I am crackin' up!

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

a conversation about color

The boys and I were in the car today and I waved at a friend who was driving by. Mr. P asked me why I waved and I told him that he was a friend. Mr. P then asked me if the person that I waved at is a boy or a girl (the dude has LONG dreadlocks). I explained that he's a boy and that he's from west Africa, just like Mr. P! It was quiet for a minute and so I tuned back into the radio.

"Why aren't there any white babies in Liberia? That's not fair... I mean, equal. Why can black people be from America and Liberia but white people aren't from Liberia too?" he asked me, totally out of freakin' right field. I scrambled for an answer that was suitable for a six year old.
"Well, honey, how many white people are in Liberia?"
"Not so many."
"And how many black people are in Liberia?"
"Okay... If there aren't many white people in Liberia then there simply aren't going to be many white babies there. So until more white people move there, no white babies."
"So... if you moved to Liberia then Mr. O would be born black but if you're in America then he came out white?" (I tried not to laugh at this unbelievably cute and innocent thought)
"Not exactly... if you mixed brown paint and white paint, what color would that make?"
"Little brown."
"Right, light brown."
"And if you mix white and white what color would you get?"
"More white?"
"Right! Making babies is the same way. No matter where I am, America or Liberia, my white paint mixes into the babies that I make. So if I had married a black man then we would have made light brown babies. But I married a white man and so we made white little Mr. O. You get it?"
"Ummmm so why doesn't Mr. O have orange hair like you?"
"Well... that's because brown genes are dominant and red genes are recessive. Eventually red hair won't exist any longer."
"Maybe Mr. O's kid will have orange hair."
Then Mr. O pipes up, "My baby won't have orange hair because I'm gonna marry a brown girl."
"I'm cool with whateva, Mr. O. As long as she's got a good heart."
To this, Mr. P laughed, "A good heart!? Why not orange hair too?"
"Ya, and fire powers!" added Mr. O
"Mom, if a mom and a dad have fire powers, then will the baby have it to?" Mr. P asked
"ABSOLUTELY!" I responded

And when we got home, Mr. P made this picture of he and I, the "fire family". Notice that in our hands we hold flames that we can throw at all of the bad guys.

Monday, November 5, 2007

the big shack dialog

So... I joined with three other folks to read The Shack... well, actually, I asked them to join me but that doesn't sound quite as cool. Chapter by chapter, we're going to have at this book. I'm curious to see where the discussions take us. It's going to be two boys, Jonathan and Jeromy, and a lovely lady, Verity. I hope that the four of us will all be ready to begin blogging by early next week.

If you haven't read it, you're welcome to pick up a copy and join us on the blog. But, now that I think about it, you don't have to read it because the subject matter that we'll be grappling with doesn't require homework. SO read the book if you want to or don't. That's cool too. But I am interested in what you think as well.

I love me a good debate ..uh.. I mean dialog.

Sunday, November 4, 2007

A friend of mine

A friend of mine is sitting in jail right now. Not someone that I know - not that kinda friend. The kinda friend that you hold close to your heart because through them you learn about God and about life and about what we're truly here for. It's a Romans 1:12 kinda thang. She and I were on the phone tonight and God gave me a beautiful vision for her but as I reflect on it, I thought that we could all take something from 'the walk'.

Let's establish a few ground rules:
I believe that their are two parts of this world: the seen and the unseen. What I'm describing is more of the unseen (spiritual) and how the seen (physical) affects our relationship with Christ. Is that perfectly unclear? Good. Let's move on.

It's just you and Jesus. There's thick trees, forests actually, all around you two. You can make out what looks like a mountain up ahead but it's pretty far off in the distance and so there's no telling whether or not the trail that you and Jesus are on will take you up that mountain. He's got a tender but hearty grasp on to your hand - strong enough to let you know that you're safe with Him but gentle enough that you might forget that He's even there. The path before you guys is rutted and free of any large debris. It is windy, though, so it's difficult to gauge what's up ahead.

Almost out of nowhere, you can see people running towards you from the direction that you're heading. They're shouting, "It's so steep! The mountain is so steep! It's dangerous up there!" No one tells you to stop or turn around, but the emotion that they spread is full of anxiety and borders on terror. Panicking, your muscles bind up and your heart starts beating faster. Maybe it will get hard. Maybe it isn't worth it? You hate steep mountains! What are you doing here, anyway? Everyone around you is shouting and it's so confusing, so difficult to keep your thoughts straight. Jesus gives your hand a squeeze and that's when you notice Him.

All else just fades away.

The shouting, the tenseness, the fear immediately vanishes. Oh ya, you remember, HE's why you're here. He smiles at you, catching your gaze, and then quietly turns back to the red trail that you two are still walking on. It's flat and it's narrow, just as it was when you began. The beauty of the walk takes your thoughts away again. The forest is almost like jungle with vines and an amazing amount of density. It feels good to be here, to be walking with Jesus.

Just as suddenly, from both sides, come hordes of people telling you how easy that the walk is, how it's an easy ride and they promise you that the trail shifts into a downward slope in just a few paces. Happily you smile and chat with them. They're gentle and uplifting and you may even befriend one or two of the large group. All of them are laughing but they remain there, in the same place where they first came upon you. Filled with hope of a happier walk, you lift your head high with assurance in their promises. You keep walking but the trail stays the same... Your anger grows just a bit when there are no slopes of any kind. It isn't as easy as you had hoped. This walk IS hard! It's flat and constant and you deserve some easier times! Jesus gives your hand a squeeze and that's when you notice Him.

All else fades away.

The disappointment, anger, and distrust vanishes. Oh ya, you remember, HE's why you're here. He smiles at you, catching your gaze, and then quietly turns back to the red trail that you two are still walking on. It's flat and it's narrow, just as it was when you began. The beauty of the walk takes your thoughts away again. The forest is almost like jungle with vines and an amazing amount of density. It feels good to be here, to be walking with Jesus.


Thursday, November 1, 2007


Miss B and my step mom

At the girls' school, some chica pushed down Miss B and told her, "Your hair looks stupid! And I know that that hair is fake!" My Miss B? The most docile, gentle, and pleasant little girl EVER!?! I was PEEa-SSED. It took me four hours to get those freakin extensions in and Miss B was proud of them. Yes, I know how to put extensions in.

So some little chica not only shoved my baby but she mocked my work? Oh no.

I asked what Miss B's response was to this madness. Her answer?
"Nothing. I cried after she pushed me on the ground."

GIRL! My arms were wavin' while I told her that "WE DON'T LET PEOPLE TREAT US THAT WAY." Poor baby thought that I was mad at her. Husband told me to exit the area in order to calm down (not that he was any better, grilling Miss B for the chica's name). So while I'm out of the room, Husband discovers that this junk happened on Friday. That would be five days ago? And Miss B, who's crying at the retelling of the story, says that she was too embarrassed to tell anyone.

I walk back in, hear the news and go off some more about how if Miss B doesn't tell us, then we can't help her. Husband gives me the 'look' and I shut up... for a minute.

But REALLY, who can be expected to act rationally under such circumstances? Had it been either of my other girls, well okay - I know that they have mouths and that they probably provoked it. But Miss B?? She's like a sitting duck for bullies. Quiet, gentle, soft hearted. GRRR.

So now we know who this chica is. My question for you folks, what would you do? Walk up to the girl and give her the who-ha? I told Miss B to avoid her at all costs and we prayed for the chica because (while I'd rather not remember) I think it says something about praying for your enemies in the Bible... But what now? Should I approach the kid? Kick her in the shins? Take her photo and put it up on the 'Elementary's Most Wanted' list?

this is me, preparing for battle