Who do they see when they look at me?

I want others to see Jesus in me.
What do they see in my eyes when I look at them? Compassion? Judgement?
I could have lived their life instead.

"Instead"
Stacie Orrico

I saw him shaking his change in a coffee cup
Asked for a dollar but I told the man to give it up
Said he's hungry I don't think that it's true
I bet my dollar he'd just spend it on booze
I turned my back on him and began to walk away
But then I heard a little voice inside me say
What if it's really true? What if he's hungry?
What if it's not for him? Does he have a family?
How'd you get here
How'd you end up on the street
Where did you go wrong
Wonder what I'd do if it were me

A new point of view
A walk in your shoes
I wish I could get inside your head
To see what you see
When you look at me
Cause I could have lived your life instead

It was 90 degrees in the Summer heat
She was veiled in black all the way down to her feet
This is America doesn't she know
Somebody take her shopping buy her some clothes
She came up to me I didn't understand a word
I was about to leave then another thought occurred
She must be really lost scared and frustrated
I should try again to see what she's saying
How'd you get hereHow'd you get so far from home
What was it that made you leave
Wonder what I'd do if it were me

A new point of view
A walk in your shoes
I wish I could get inside your head
To see what you see when you look at me
Cause I could have lived your life instead

I wanna see oh see what you see
And I wanna feel oh feel just what you feel

Cuz I could have lived your life instead

It's A Free Country

While I joke on occasion about immodest clothes and not wanting to see a coffee server's undergarments, I am very thankful that I live in a free country where people can choose their hairstyles, clothing, piercings, or tattoos. Or I can wear my red lipstick and big hair if I so choose. :>)

Thank goodness our country does not have this.

Thanks to God who has allowed our country to be free and to Jesus who has set me free!

May I never take it for granted.

OK, Linda, you'd better call for those press conferences now.

For whatever reason, I am in this mood of writing about what I would do for the prison system, the country, world peace and bad hair.

OK. Bad hair is pushing it a bit.

So, I got to thinking about what else I could do to "contribute" ahem to society. Just be patient, folks. 'Kay? I am sure this little montage of nonsensical trivia will pass.

Foreign Policy-

Whenever one of our enemies does something that is threatening our freedom, democracy, and pursuit of good hair, I'll just say, "Don't make me come over there."

That's only if "The Look" doesn't work. See, I'm all about diplomacy to a point. So first I'll try a less forceful approach. My policy may or may not follow this order. (I'm a mom and the leader of the free world. My policy is subject to change right along with my hair color.)

1. The Look.
2. The Threat.
3. The Countdown. "1, 2, 3, don't make me count to 5..."
4. The I'll Put the Fear of God in you.

'Nough said.


Domestic Policy (and I don't mean who does the housekeeping)

-The first order of business is Labor Day. No one can wear white after this holiday. It just isn't done.

-Next is hunger in the US. No one will go to bed hungry unless they sassed their Mama.

-Everyone is required to take a course in manners and must carry a license as proof. If you are rude to a waitress in a restaurant or you decide to blow your nose in the middle of Pastor Bill's Easter sermon, you are required to pay a fine of $100 which will go towards the waitress's tip or the offering plate.

-Every US Citizen gets a birthday cake on their birthday. That's final.

-On a more serious note, if you have ever hurt a child, tried to hurt a child or even thought about hurting a child, (I'm a mom. I can read minds) I will personally come over there and follow the steps of the "Foreign Policy" only I will skip steps 1-3 and go straight to the Fear of God part.

Don't make me count to 1.


Military Policy

-Every person who serves or has ever served in the US military will never go hungry.

Unless he sassed his Mama.

-Every US citizen is required to take a course to learn the real sacrifice our military make. In order to complete the class, they must write "Freedom isn't free" 500 times while singing the National Anthem. (yes, they would have to learn the words.)

Miscellaneous

It is illegal to whine.

Pantyhose and uncomfortable support garments are banned.

No person will be discriminated against based on their race, gender, religion, Alma Mater, or NASCAR affiliation.

And just because I am in a good mood, I declare every Friday as Carbohydrate Day. See ya at Krispy Kreme!

:>)

Consider this my little contribution to society.

Our prison systems don't seem to work. Once the prisoners serve their time, they just end up right back in, so I have come up with a new plan of scaring our prisoners into never committing a crime again.

Here goes...

1. During the interrogation process, if the crook won't talk, lock him alone in the room with a screaming toddler who refuses to eat. The only food available to feed the kid is beets and tofu. The crook must either talk or get the kid to eat.

That bandit will sing, I tell ya.

2. Once you've gotten the criminal to confess, he must wear the required prison uniform-

Support hose, a girdle, and a bridesmaid's dress. These were used in medieval torture chambers throughout Europe.

3. After diving for the bride's bouquet and ripping his pantyhose, he must be forced to participate in the following domestic tasks:

- Taking down 1960's vinyl wallpaper
- Removing mystery stains from upholstery
- Vacuuming the mini-van of a soccer mom and identifying all the molded objects found under the seat
- Paying all of the bills of a household on time through illness, vacation, and a death in the family.
- Sheepishly taking a pewk-stained comforter to the local cleaners
- When filling out the form for the cleaners, fill in "Child's Vomit Odor" in the needs special attention portion.
- Seek the help of any reputable repair man while spouse is away on business and the washing machine and every single toilet in the house are all broken. And everyone has the flu.

4. Watch every single episode of Teletubbies and The Wiggles.

5. Wake up at 5:00 AM Pacific Time in order to secure reservations for the Disney Breakfast with Cinderella at Disney World.

6. Take out a second mortgage in order to purchase the official Disney Cinderella dress-up outfit and the official glass slippers made of official Disney plastic so that the screaming toddler can be dressed appropriately for the Cinderella breakfast.

7. Wake up at 4:00 AM the day after Thanksgiving in order to stand in line at Wal-mart so that you can fight with 200 other sleepy moms over this year's new Cinderella toy that your toddler wants for Christmas because she had breakfast with Cinderella and now she wants nothing but Cinderella everything and I'm sorry, but Belle just won't do.

8. Assemble the Cinderella toy on Christmas morning after removing 100 plastic bread ties and the remains of a mystery stain on the box which may or may not be considered forensic evidence related to an alleged dispute with an alleged mom who thought she was going to get the last of this year's new Cinderella toy at Wal-mart but boy, you showed her.

Allegedly.

9. Go to the post office. This may seem like cake to you, but it is pure torture to me.

:>)

Mulder drinks grande skinny latte with a shot of cinnamon dolce.

My friend Christy and I decided to go for Starbucks this morning. She mentioned a new one that had just opened down the street and since there just aren't enough Starbucks popping up all over the US, we trekked the 1.5 miles down the road, you know, to check out the landscaping.

A totally different Starbucks and we actually got out of the car. Call us adventurous!

So we were there sipping our liquid doughnuts when a clean cut gentleman walked in with dark classes, a badge and a gun. Christy leaned over and whispered to me,"He's FBI."

She pointed over to another man waiting for his coffee and said, "He's FBI, too."

As we chatted about kids and school, more men in dark glasses walked in. Between sips of coffee, Christy would pause to say, "He's FBI, too."

I finally stopped to ask,"Wait. Is there some kind of FBI office close by? I'm starting to get a little paranoid."

She informed me that there was indeed an office nearby. She then pointed out that one of the agents in the coffee house was married to her former boss and that "I hope he doesn't recognize me. I look AWFUL and I would just hate for him to go home to his wife and tell her he saw me out like this!"

There are criminals with their mugs on display in post offices everywhere evading capture. I'm pretty sure that most of them are not in Starbucks ordering a triple venti mocha, but hey- who knows? There are in fact, moms who look like they just rolled out of bed, sleepily rubbing their eyes, plotting to overthrow laundry stains while avoiding detection of a local FBI agent.

So we did what most women would do in our situation. We slipped out the side door- not to evade capture, but to avoid the possibility of one FBI agent telling his wife that Christy was out in public in her yoga pants and no make-up.

Adventurous and stealthy. Just call us Thelma and Louise.

It's a good thing I'm a mom or I would have nothing to post.

Random Stuff


Before school...

After getting up and eating pancakes, my daughter curls up under the quilt with Big Fat Cat.

"Look, Mommy. I'm playin' the Cat-Tar."

Moments later...

"It's time to get dressed for school."

"I can't. I'm in charge of the Kitty Cat Spa Foundation."


One day recently when hubs came home from work...

"How was your day, Daddy? Did you check columns and columns of numbers that someone else checked and that someone will check after you?"

"Yep."

Beauty is in the ears of the beholder.

Me- "Sweetie, what makes a lady pretty?"

Daughter- "Ummm... her hair."

Me- "What if she doesn't have pretty hair or what if she doesnt' have any hair? Can she still be pretty?"

Daughter- "Yes."

Me- "Then what would make her pretty?"

Daughter- "Her attitude."

Me- "Anything else?"

Daughter- "Her voice."

Me- "What does a pretty voice sound like?"

Daughter- "Like yours."

:>)

Technically, we're NOT related.

On top of all this, my Aunt Barbara's husband's cousin Margaret, who is Full Blown Southern High Maintenance, must have her hair done.

Margaret lives in a small town about a 30 minute drive from Waycross, the epicenter of the dangerous fires burning as I type. Margaret's little town may only have two red lights, but it does have more than a few beauty shops.

But that simply won't do.

No, M'am.

Margaret called all of her brothers to ask one of them to drive her all the way to Waycross to get her hair done because come fire or high water, she was gonna look good. Folks in Waycross are fleeing for life and limb, sleeping on cots in churches and elementary school lunchrooms.

But Margaret needs a shampoo and set.

I don't know if one of the brothers gave in and actually drove her into the smokey haze of danger. I sure hope not.

If it wasn't so ridiculous in a time like this, it would be funny.

Georgia Fires

Updated to Add: My family who evacuated were able to return home. Their homes are fine. Others are not going to be so fortunate. The fires are nowhere close to being contained. Please continue to pray for the people affected, especially for the brave firefighters.

Southeast Georgia, a place near and dear to my heart, is being threatened and partially destroyed by fire. Firefighters are working around the clock and they are exhausted.

Some of my family have been forced to leave their homes. Please pray for the people, property, the firefighters and for the awesome wildlife and vegetation. If you have ever been to the Okefenokee Swamp, you know its unique beauty.

As of now, my parents (who currently live in Albany in Southwest Georgia) are here visiting and we cannot even get through the phone lines to check on our relatives who are dealing with these fires. Those who have left, are safe, but, the fire is spreading and more people may have to leave. That is the news we are waiting for.

I'll keep you posted.

'Cause there's something about Oran "Juice" Jones

I just read Big Mama's list of her 7 favorite songs and saw the cutest picture of her e-vah! The girl knows good hair.

As memes go, I've decided to make my own list of some of my 7 favorite songs. (There are just so many!) You may be a little surprised at a few and can I just say that a list of ONLY 7 is very hard for me. I love music. All music. Well, almost all music. I am not fond of the offensive stuff- you know, the stuff they play in the elevator. ;>)

1. Something About You- Level 42. If you weren't a teen in the 80's, you have no idea what I am talking about and if you were, you may still have no idea what I am talking about. I would bet you would know if you saw the video- the one with the train and the clown. Are you lost yet? I love the medley. It makes me want to sing with the radio in the car or Old Navy, or wherever I am.

2. The Rain- Oran "Juice" Jones. Feelin' crunchy like cornflakes without the milk. If you have heard it, you are laughing. right. now.

3. The One- Elton John. This was our wedding dance song. I love the lyrics. No one can write like Elton.

4. Georgia- Ray Charles. I'm a sap. And please, for the love of Pete, bless your heart, Michael Bolton, you just cannot compete with Ray.

5. Been Caught Stealin'- Jane's Addiction. For some reason, this is funny to me. I know. I'm weird. (I don't think it is meant to be taken seriously.)

6. Battle Hymn of The Republic- Makes me cry. every. single. time.

7. Cowboy Take Me Away- Dixie Chicks. They may not be PC, but they can sang. Until they deny Jesus, I still like them. Sorry folks.

These are just a sample of my favs. If you want to do this meme, leave a note in the comments.

Prayer Request

A very dear friend of mine is hurting right now. Someone in their family is going through an awful trial of faith and determination.

Would all of you please lift them up in prayer? I am sorry I can't go into the details, but God knows and He loves them all.

Thank you, dear Internets! Y'all are awesome.

:>)

Rocking Chairs, Rainbows, AND Shopping!

Did y'all know that Brenda has a new gift shop over at CafePress?

Check it out! There are some really great Christian items available with a touch of Brenda's humor and encouragement.

Great job, Brenda!

For Heather

It's time to love on Heather and her family. See BooMama to find out how you can donate.

And remember, everyone can help Heather.

She needs our prayers and our encouragement most of all.

A Little Contest

Cause we could use some comic relief today.

BooMama is having a little contest over at her house and as Martha would say it is More Fun, More Fun! The deadline for entries is tonight @ 6:00 PM Central Time.

The post is funny in its own right, but the comments, Sweet Mercy! You'd better make a trip to the ladies' room before you start reading.

Best I can tell, the comments are proof that a southern woman does not let invitations or personal tragedy interfere with her opportunity to have good hair.

It's all about priorities, people.

Tragedy Strikes Campus, God's People Cry Out

What? Parents Crying, Children Dying, A Nation Grieving

Where? Virginia, My Town, Your Town, Our Town

When? April 16, 2007, Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow

How? Evil overcomes the heart of one in a fallen world

Why? The evil seeks to devour and destroy.

Who? College students, faculty, his son, her daughter, your son, your daughter,

my son, my daughter...

His Grief

His Town

His Time

His Sons and Daughters

His Vengeance

His Amazing Love

May God be with the families who grieve the loss of their children today.

Our hearts are with you.

*photo courtesy of Associated Press

For Molly's Mom

Molly comes home today. Remember the time we talked and I told you I wouldn't give you any advice?

I lied.

So here goes...

Nothing will prepare you for Mommyhood. No book or manual or parenting class. Though they have good intentions, even our own mothers cannot prepare us for Mommyhood.

Since the day we told them, "You are going to be a grandma!" they have been there for us. They listened to us complain about morning sickness and rejoice at the first fluttering feelings of life growing inside our tummies. They saw us get bigger, and bigger, and bigger... and may I just say, they could have kept those observations to themselves? Ahem.

But, that's what they do. They're mothers.

Mothers are there when we go into labor- whether it is on time or surprisingly early. They try to tell their daughters about the pain. But, Oh. Sweet. Mercy. No one on God's green earth can prepare you for that.

Let me take a moment, on behalf of you and myself, to thank the inventor of the blessing from the pharmacy- the Epidural. Bless you, Ye Great Inventor of Numbing Gold. Bless you.

Okay. So no one, hard as they tried, prepared us for labor, but, somehow we made it through. The pain. The tears. The fear.

Because no one can prepare you for the love. The love a mother feels when she sees that tiny life God has given her. It is a love that you never knew before. A sweetness. A mystery. A miracle.

Nothing will prepare you for the quiet moments in the soft light as you hold your tiny baby to your heart. Nothing prepares you for the days you spend watching her sleep or play. The laundry and the dishes pile up and amazingly, you just don't care.

No one can warn you about the dangers of the world. No one will explain the fear you will feel when she is so sick and you just don't know what to do. Nothing prepares you for the fever that just won't break, or the arm that did, for the drive to the emergency room in the middle of the night, or the long, tearful prayers for healing.

No one can prepare you for the days, the nights, the years ahead. Your baby girl will go to sleep tonight a tiny, fragile expression of God's Love. Before you know it, one morning she'll wake up a toddler, refusing to eat. One day she'll be on her way to Kindergarten, then First Grade, and so on.

And one day, our little girls will call us to say, "Mom, you're going to be a grandma!"

We'll try to give them advice and they'll ignore us. We'll try to prepare them for what is ahead. The pain. The fear. The love. We'll try to prepare them for Mommyhood, but we won't be able to.

That's Okay. That's what we'll do. We're Mothers.

Just remind me not to tell them how big they're getting.

:>)

This is what I'm talkin' 'bout!

This afternoon I was talking to Mama and she told me about these really cute dolls she found. They are called Faith and Friends and are available at Family Christian Book Stores.

Here is one of them-

Orange You Cute Doll

Is she cute or what?

The idea is to encourage our little girls to express their fashion creativity in a modest way, while expressing their faith and learning about The One who created them. The dolls come with a small Bible and a journal. There are some really cute accessories and one of the dolls even has her own "blog."

If any of you have these for your little girls, leave a comment. I'd love to hear about them. For more info about these cute dolls, go here.

Kudos to the inventors of these cute little toys!

Stop Serving My Coffee Dressed Like That

Updated to Add- I do love all of the "mocha makers" out there. I want to show them the love. I just don't want to see everything while I am trying to eat or have a coffee. As my mother would say,"There's a time and a place for all things." I am not against anyone having piercings and tatoos (except my own daughter). I just think some things should remain covered in certain places of business.
Thanks, Denise, for your caring comments. They were very thoughtful and compassionate. I appreciate the chance to clarify. :>)

Hang on a minute. I need to clear my throat for this one...

'Kay.

So I was at my local coffee house this morning purchasing my liquid doughnut. Most of the time I go through the drive thru because I am dressed like well, a bum. But not immodestly. This lovely, lovely woman named "Betty" is usually there each morning and I look forward to seeing her at the drive thru window. She is friendly and bubbly and over the age of 3o.

Love her.

This morning I ordered my usual Venti Mocha and drove around to wait for my delightful blend of hot cocoa and caffeine. (Genius!) As "Betty" cheerfully greeted me and took my money I was not-so-cheerfully greeted by the flash of a tattoo and undergarments of the Mocha Maker.

Picture this. I am sitting in the drive thru- eye level to this young woman's backside. Her shirt is hiked up in the back and I can see her tattoo just above the edge of her waistline. If I had not turned away so quickly, I also could have read the brand name of her undergarments. I came to be awakened by espresso and sugar, not the tacky backside of a twenty-something tart.

Express yourself somewhere else.

When the delightful Betty started to hand me my coffee, I politely said to her, "Please tell that girl to pull up her pants."

Betty turned and saw what I was talking about and then she quietly slipped away out of sight. I am guessing she said something to a manager. She returned to the window with a smile, handed me my mocha and with a wink she said,"It's taken care of. I agree."

There is actually a point to this rant, which is this. I am going to start complaining to management when I enter a store and employees are scantily clad with piercings in places that shouldn't be pierced, tattoos inappropriately displayed and undergarments showing. Hello! That's why they are called undergarments. They go under clothing. They aren't the actual clothing itself.

Most of the time I just roll my eyes or walk away, but after this morning I've decided to speak up. It is up to the customers who enter these establishments to at least try to make a difference. I will always try to make my complaints known in a polite manner instead of what I really would like to do.

Like reach in the drive thru window and jerk that girl's britches up so hard that she would have suffered from an atomic wedgie.

But I held back. I was nice. Frank and honest, but nice.

It's just a good thing it happened before I had my mocha.

Let's Kick It Up A Notch!

I was just reading BooMama and she needs some information on how to contact Kate Spade.

Yes, Kate Spade.

I can't help The BooMa, although I would love to oblige. To tell you the truth, BooMama is so popular that I would think we would all be asking her for Kate's cell number so we could text message her. Or maybe Boo is just holding out on us, seeing as how she is so humble and all. That's why we love her.

She's BooMama.

So, if any of you out there reading this happen to know or think you know someone who may know Kate Spade or hey, maybe you are actually Kate Spade (yeah, right) head on over to BooMama's blog and fill her in on all the low down. (And Kate, if you are reading this, "What's up, my homegirl?")

Big Mama's drug post has put me in some sort of tragic gangsta mode...

Anywho.

I have to tell y'all about my most recent celeb encounter. I say most recent because there have been several in my life. One was years ago when my husband and I were in Dulles airport and we saw Prince.

Well, it wasn't actually Prince then. He was The Artist formerly known as Prince. He was really not even an artist; he was a symbol.

So we saw what appeared to be the symbol formerly known as Prince escorted by two very large scary looking bodyguards. (Not Kevin Costner) And our conversation went something like this:

Hubs- "Look! That guy thinks he's The Artist formerly known as Prince."
Me- "It is The Artist formerly known as Prince."
Hubs- "Uh-Uhhh!"
Me- "Yes Huh!"
Hubs- "Nuh-Uhhhh!"
Interrupted by passenger walking by as The Artist leaves our sight, "Yes. It was him. He was on my flight. They let him get off the plane early."

Add the fact that the symbol formerly known as The Artist formerly known as Prince was close enough to hear our entire conversation and you can imagine why it has been one of the funniest moments in our marriage.

Back to my most recent encounter.

I was in Target one afternoon looking SUPER FLY with no make-up, a top knot for a hairdo and sweats. Let me be specific- I was wearing this shirt:

Then I saw him. Emeril Lagasse. Yes, m'am. I did. He pushed his little red cart right next to my little red cart, but I think my little red cart had more stuff in it. By the time I realized it was him, he had vanished into the housewares department and I was standing there like a deer in headlights with a bewildered look on my face.

"Yes. It's him," another shopper said. Apparently she could read my bewildered look.
"I think it is. I heard him talk. He has a distinct voice," I said to her as she pushed her little red cart.

I didn't want to approach him and be all paparazzi or anything. And, let's face it. I was in Target looking fine in my sweatpants and "the shirt." What was I going to do? Run up to him and say, "BAM! Can I have your autograph?" What would the man think?

Who is this deranged woman with that horrible top knot and exactly what kind of novel is she writing?

So I decided to lay low and just stare from afar. Oh, you know you would have stared, too! I went to the check-out lanes with my own little red cart and watched as he unloaded his little red cart. Then he did the most amazing thing! He bought paper towels! IN BULK!

Who knew?

I am in the know when it comes to the paper product purchasing of the rich and famous. It's an untapped tabloid market these days.

The brand? Wouldn't you like to know... I like to keep some things a secret. That's what makes me so mysterious... and weird.

BAM!

Overheard at my house

While in the baby department at Target-

(In a low whisper) "Mommy, I saw a Royal Potty."

"A what?"

"A Royal Potty. Come see."

"Why are you whispering it? Because you didn't want to say potty?"

"Yes. Come see!"

Indeed it was a portable potty seat for a little one. And it was quite royal.

The Fisher Price Royal Potty Stepstool




While petting Maggie, the big-fat-cat.

"Maggie, I'll be nice to you... even though you're squishing my guts out."

Apparently, we are not in good hands.

After watching an Allstate car insurance commercial...

Hubs- "What's the deal with Stan?"

Me- "What? Stan?"

Hubs- "Yeah. What's up with Stan?"

Me- "It's StanD. Not Stan!"

uncontrolled laughter

Hubs- "Ohhh. I thought it was some kind of catch phrase, "That's Allstate, Stan."

Me- "That's Allstate's StanD."

more laughter

Me- "You thought they were trying to get Stan to buy insurance. There is this one guy out there who refuses to buy Allstate and his name is Stan."

Hubs- "Yep. Now, that's focus advertising."

Welcome to the world, baby girl!

Praise God for tiny miracles.

Molly Amelia was born this morning, weighing 5 lbs., 5 oz.

She is a strong, healthy and beautiful baby girl.
Mom is doing well and Dad was present for the birth.

God is Good.

Thank you for your prayers, internets!

The Sadness Is No More

"It was now about the sixth hour,

and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour,

for the sun stopped shining.

And the curtain of the temple was torn in two.

Jesus called out with a loud voice, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit."

When he had said this, he breathed his last." Luke 23:44-46 NIV

Sadness is not an emotion or a feeling. Sadness has breath and life. It stares you down with dark, piercing eyes. Sometimes it sneaks up on you in an unguarded moment. Sometimes you can see it in the distance, creeping slowly towards you until the hour comes when it strangles you in its dark, deathly hold.

Survival comes when you break free from the strangling, gasping for breath until the sadness runs away, hiding from the Light.

God is The Light.

Over 2000 years ago, this kind of sadness covered Mary, the mother of Jesus, and John, the beloved disciple. Sadness overwhelmed them as they stood helpless at the foot of The Cross watching their Christ slowly die. They were helpless to save Him, but He was not helpless to save them.

The darkness came and sadness hung thick in the air. Its weight crushed them. It was the kind of sadness that crying doesn't relieve. The tears come until one can cry no more and the heavy sadness makes it hard to breathe.

The Father and The Son were separated for the first time as my sins were laid upon Christ's beaten back. He held them on His weary shoulders, naked and humiliated, hanging in the dark sky on display for the fallen world. They mocked Him and spat on Him. All because of me. And you.

He had the power to save Himself but He used it to save the world.

From the sadness. From death. From eternal darkness.

And as He promised, the sadness left. The darkness was overcome with The Light. He rose from the dead in all glory so that we can be with Him one day in heaven.

Where there shall me no more tears, no more sadness, and no more darkness.

Just pure, saving, life-giving Light.

Please Pray

Looks like there will be a new kid in town today.


Without going into details about T's condition, I would just like to ask you to-

* Pray for her, the baby, and the family that is comforting them.
* Please pray that the medical staff will make the right decisions and make them in a timely manner.
* Pray that God will be glorified through it all.

Thank you for all of your prayers.

Great Photo

Head over to Southern Girl's Guide To Almost Anything.

You will love this photo!

Thank you!

His Singer over at His Unfinished Work has given me a lovely prize,

The Little Alien That Could AKA The Thinking Blogger Award.

Updated to add- A big thank you to Southern girl, too!

I didn't think I was a thinker. But I guess that makes me a thinker, or does it?

Hmmm...

Seriously, I do like a good discussion with hubs and friends about life, liberty and the pursuit of chocolate but I seldom write about those things.

Except the chocolate.

Thanks, His Singer, for thinking of me.

;>)

Ode To The Ones Left Behind

I've seen you many times.
All alone on the side of the road.
You are the forgotten one.
The right one.
The left one.
I just don't know.

I just keep on driving.
Wondering, "Where is your sole mate?"
I never stop to pick you up.
Or offer you a ride.
I just keep on driving.
A few times, I think I may have run over you.
(Sorry about the tread marks.)

Surely, you must be lonely there.
On the side of the road.
Or the highway.
Or the curb.
Caught between two lanes of traffic.
Trapped in this pothole called Life.

The mystery shuffles on.
And still, you wait.
Like all the others.
The flip flop.
The sneaker.
The boot.

Carry on, lonesome one.

Carry on.

I Knew Her When...

I was in Target today and guess what I happened to pass by.



This.

And I had to grab it (and pay for it, of course!) because I knew that Mrs. Dryer herself had a very touching story waiting for me to read between the pages.

I started to tell the cashier, "Yep. My friend wrote something in there... well she isn't really a friend, she is a blog friend and I have never met her, but we've emailed and I love her blog, and she is a sister in Christ, so yes... yes, she is my friend."


But the cashier looked like she was collecting two checks- One from Target and One from Social Security.


So I thought she would just say, "What, honey? What's a blog?"



Congrats, Shannon!!!

Viva Las Vegas and all that jazz.

Ahem.

No, really. I need to clear my throat. It's the Hack and Wheeze.

I'll spare you the rest of the details. Let's just say that I don't know why the Good Lord decided to make our bodies produce oddities that come from the nostrils and lungs.

And I hope you good folks already ate dinner.

Speaking of dinner, let me tell y'all more grossness from our house. I think I just invented a word.

At exactly midnight Sunday, the digital clock struck a digital twelve and my daughter hurled in her sleep all over our bed. All. Over. Our. Bed. With. Me. In. It.

My very southern comforter in all its magnolia blossom glory has a teeny tiny little label sewn into the seam where the magnolias meet with some lovely dogwood blossoms in a delightful display of southern comfort without the liquor. (I'm Baptist.)

Dry clean only.

I do have one ounce of mercy in me and I did not take the hurled upon not-so-comfortable comforter to the cleaners. I washed it in the washing machine like a good Mama does and it is now air drying in the bath tub as I pray that someone was just trying to play a joke on me when they placed such rigid laundering rules on my bedding.

Anywho.

Just as the lovely carriage turned back into a pumpkin, my daughter threw up and then she wanted the details.

"Mama, what did I just throw up?"

"Your dinner."

"But what?"

"Chicken Ya Ya (that's chicken nuggets to you rookies) and salad."

"And the ketchup on my chicken?"

"Yep. That, too."

"Now that my stomach is all empty, can I have something to eat?"

It's just a buffet of disgusting information at my house.

Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Jazz. Sanjaya, you must never, ever sing that song ever again because that song belongs to The English Patient in my head and you ain't no English patient. You don't even look ill. Please, sweet mercy, go to college and make your parents proud because I just can't take any more. Bless your heart. I know your Mama is so proud of you. I'm just sayin.

And did y'all know that Elvis is alive? I saw him today while house hunting. His full size poster was plastered on the wall of what could be used as a guest room or an office but is currently being used as a Sewing Room/Elvis Shrine.

As my Mama would say in a whisper, "To each his own. I didn't care for it."

Bless his heart.

Prayer Request Update

My sister-in-law is doing well. Had an ultrasound this morning. The baby's weight is looking good, heart rate good.

Will keep you updated. Thanks for all of the prayers!! It means a lot, Internets.

:>)

Need Prayer

Calling all Internets-

My sister-in-law really needs your prayers. Her water broke and she is 6 weeks early. Her husband is across the world right now serving his country. He was supposed to be home this week, in plenty of time for the birth.

My in-laws are driving down to be with her as I type. I am many hours away myself.

The baby's heart rate is fine. Please pray for T and the baby, and for Daddy-to-be who is far away right now.

Thank you,

Yep, I birthed her.

"Mommy, guess what I'm drawing."

Scribble on the Magna Doodle.

"A snake."

"Nope."

"Hmmmm..."

"DNA!"

"Uh-huh. That's a double helix."

"But whose DNA is it?"

Quotes

There's a Quotes Contest going on. The contest is closed, but you can still head over there and read some great quotes. I love me a good quote and I have searched for some of my favorites. I couldn't find just one.

I love to read things by Abraham Lincoln, Eleanor Roosevelt, Mark Twain and Erma Bombeck. I started to list one or two, but there were just too many to choose from.

So, here are a few of my own. They will surely leave no mark on your life or your floors.

Quotes by Melanie @ This Ain't New York

"I am tired of reading about successful women with briefcases, Botox, and million dollar bank accounts. Show me a woman who can get a two year old to eat dinner and remove ketchup stains from natural fibers. Now, she's my hero."

"If I had super powers, I would wave a wand over my house and make it look like the after pictures on all of those Extreme Makeover Home Shows, only prettier."

"If a mother were ever President, they would have to do away with the Oval Office.

There are no corners for Congress to go to Time Out."

"The only women in history who were remembered for being skinny were starving to death."

A Whole Lotta Nothing

1. I have invented a new move that could get Sanjaya voted off. It's called the Hack and Wheeze.

2. Daughter just told me her eyeball is about to pop out and she can't see or hear so good.

3. OTC meds, please start working.

4. Orlando must have nuclear level pollen that we folks up here just ain't used to.

I'm just sayin, y'all.

5. We've pretty much given up on the "Bless You" etiquette around here. After it's been said 50 times in the past hour, it starts to feel like your mama telling you how pretty you are over and over again while you have an outbreak of acne and the frizzies. Kind of loses its effect.

6. Right now I am watching the "Have You Seen This Snail" episode of Spongebob which, pathetically has become my favorite.

Happy Weekend to the Allergen Free.

Stop Building Your Six-Year-Old's Vocabulary

When we returned home from our vacation I had a nice surprise waiting on our doorstep- a package of goodies from my mother-in-law. It was filled with some very pretty pillows, some cute note cards, odds and ends of newspaper articles and recipes and my new, very serious, literary interest-

Stop Dressing Your Six-Year-Old Like A Skank And Other Words of Delicate Southern Wisdom by Celia Rivenbark.

My mother-in-law isn't trying to correct my parenting. She thought I would enjoy the irreverent southern humor of Rivenbark. (There are a few "words" scattered throughout. It's a shame, too. It could have been equally funny without them.)

The book is pink with a little girl on the cover blow drying her hair into oblivion. So it stands to reason that my own little 6 year old would ask me, "Mommy, what's a skank?"

To which I reply,"Someone who dresses trashy."

"What's trashy? Tacky?"

"No. Someone who isn't modest."

"Oh."

"And skank isn't really a word you should be using."

Maybe the next book by Rivenbark will be "Stop Reading Books With Vocabulary On the Cover That Could Make Your Six-Year-Old Sound Like A Skank" or something like that.

Thanks, to my mother-in-law, in all seriousness, if that is possible at this point. It is a funny read- one that I will be tucking in the bedside table. (BTW- she did tell me there were a few words here and there inside the cover that my daughter may not need to see, but I didn't even think that she would be so quick to read the cover. Shows how smart I am.)

And Nanc- guess what I will be passing on to you? I'll send it in a brown, unmarked envelope.

:>)

I need a vacation from vacation.

I'm pretty sure that whenever Hemingway had writer's block, he went to Orlando.

Sea World. Disney. Universal. Tacky. Tourists. Galore.

We just returned from Sea World and the longest car ride evah. Something about long car rides forces the vehicle to shrink as mileage increases. You leave the house in an SUV and arrive at your destination in a Ford Echo. And, my-oh-my, what snacks and fruit cups can do when you are trying to entertain a child in the back seat.

Not to mention movies, movies and more movies.

How did we ever go on vacation in the 70's? I don't remember watching Spongebob 20 times or drinking 100 Capri-Suns. All I can remember is asking my parents "How many more towns?" and sleeping, completely supine and without any car restraint whatsoever, in the back seat of a Chevrolet Caprice with light blue, vinyl seats, while listening to "The Devil Went Down To Georgia" on the radio.

I can remember that my mom always said how she hated that song (with the devil and all) but listened to it anyway. And, I just loved, loved, loved it because it was all about Georgia and even then I knew Charlie Daniels could rock.

"The Chicken in the Bread Pan Peckin' Out Dough,
Granny Does Your Dog Bite, No Child, No! "

Profound.

So, anyhoo. We spent a few days at Sea World and made a day trip to Silver Springs (a post of its own).

Can I just say that my daughter has fallen in love with the stingray? If we could have bought a discounted ticket, we could have just spent the entire two days at the Stingray Lagoon because you can not only view the stingrays, you can pet them.

Yes, slime and all. And I should know. I touched a few of them myself. I have to say it was kind of cool to actually touch one. (There was also a sink nearby for some serious handwashing.)

We did the usual Shamu and Dolphin shows and the cute Pets Ahoy show with rescued dogs, cats, ducks, a pig, a rat, and a skunk. It was great.

Near the end of our trip, my allergies flared up and now I have officially lost my voice. My daughter started having the sniffles too, and today she has a fever. Thankfully, we are home.

The fish survived our absence after the purchase of a highly technical Betta fish tank filtration system and feeding device. (It would have been a lot cheaper to replace a dead fish, but a Mama does what a Mama has to do.)

The cat didn't cause any injury to the kennel workers. She did hiss the first few days, but they say she gave up the fight and started being nice.

And hubs? He is recovering from all of the driving.

It was fun to get away, but I'm glad to be back. :>)

I'll be back...

Signing off for a little R & R with the family.

Enjoy these wonderful days of Spring!

:>)

Adventures in House Hunting

I've joined the organization known as People for the Ethical Treatment of Ugly Houses, also known as PETUH.

We are house hunting. Can I just say that I love, love, love my realtor? No offense to any realtors reading this, but I have not always had the best experience with real estate agents. At times, I've felt like I've been in the middle of a used car lot with a middle-aged man with a middle-aged spread to match, learning about the benefits of anti-lock breaks and Sure Coat paint,promises of NASA- level gas mileage, and a new car smell that lasts forever.

And shopping is supposed to be fun.

But this realtor? Love her. We are close in age, both have little girls we adore and share a love for laughter. And laughing, we did.

Our first house was in a quiet neighborhood where little Southern ladies named Dorothy and Margaret walk their cute little dogs along the sidewalks, enjoying the shade of the oak canopies. I'll bet if you walk in one of these homes, you would be welcomed by the smell of a pot roast in the oven and potpurri on the coffee table.

Just lovely.

The house we viewed had been on the market for a while and was a "fixer upper." In a nice price range for the neighborhood, it was worth seeing. When we walked in, we were impressed by the older, unique architectural features and nice hardwood floors. The kitchens and bathrooms could use some updating, but so far, not too much work.

We ventured down to the lower level and I immediately smelled it.

"Ooo, I smell mildew," I said.

"Me, too," she said.

We walked on and saw the real reasons this house was a "fixer upper"- water damage. Then, my realtor turned to me with a look of anguish on her face.

"I smell mold. I feel it in my chest," she said.

"Let's get out of here!" I said, fearing that she was about to have an asthma attack.

We returned to the truck and breathed in some good, clean, toxin free air. She assured me that she was not going to require an inhaler or an epi- stick, and we continued on our search.

The next houses were very charming. All were a little older, but in wonderful neighborhoods. There were some pleasant surprises like a granite countertop in one bathroom, a gorgeous patio with a view and one home on a quaint little pond.

There were a few exceptions. Like the bathroom in top to bottom 1970's brown. I could picture Marsha brushing her hair at the sink... "98, 99, 100! Jan! Where are my Go Go boots?! "

Then there was the very, plush, 1/2 inch of nap away from shag bedroom carpet that I wanted to reach down and pet. "Good, dog."

While attempting to enter one home, we were nearly attacked by a bird. It swooped down from its perch on the porch in a fighter pilot maneuver. For a moment, I thought the realtor actually crouched down behind me. The house was great, but the bird? It was waiting for us on the back step as we tried to exit the backdoor. Oh, yes M'am it did. OK. Maybe it was another bird, but does that make it any less creepy?

We left the Tippi Hedren house and headed off to the very last house of the day.

And, honey, we saved the best for last.

The neighborhood? Perfect.

The house? Not so much. Let's just say that the realtor looked frightened when we drove up in the driveway.

She turned to me and said, "I think this is the house I showed months ago. If it is, you don't want it. Let's check it out and see."

Oh, we checked it out- after we stood to the sides of the door, knocked and said,"PETUH! Come out with your hands up!"

It was that bad. My realtor opened the door, took one peek, and closed it. No kidding. It may have been the reflection from the algae in the fish tank inside, but I am pretty sure she turned green.

I had no idea that Real Estate involved HazMat training.

And, in case you're wondering, we did see a few nice homes and one particular home that was absolutely beautiful. But those kinds of houses don't make for good blog material.

I'll keep you posted on our quest. Who knows? Maybe we'll see a house that has a Rear Window with a view.

Bada Bing! (couldn't resist)

;>)

What to do when you stub your pinky toe.

Have you ever had a migraine? Or better yet- have you ever given birth? If you have experienced excruciating pain of any kind, you know that pain is relative.

Pain is relative to the person who is experiencing the pain. I didn't say your relatives are a pain. Maybe they are, but let's get back to the point and I do have one although it will take me several run-on sentences, a few metaphors and a dash of sarcasm to get to it.

I have a fairly high threshold for pain. It takes a lot of pain medicine to eliminate my pain and it really takes a lot of pain for me to even request pain medication. I'm tough like that.

But don't make me change my routine. It's like I'm on this treadmill, the little rat in the wheel, just huffing and puffing and trying to reach the proverbial cheese; I'm doing the best I can. Don't stop the wheel. I just might trip over my own little rat toes and fall flat on my pudgy rat belly.

I don't handle stress very well. What is stressful for me may not be stressful for you. What is stress for someone else, may not be stress for me. Stress, just like pain, is relative. I didn't say your relatives are stressful. Maybe they are...

Imagine a steel cable and a long piece of fishing line. If you hang a 20 pound weight on a steel cable, the cable is strong enough to handle the weight. Hang that same weight on the fishing line and chances are, the fishing line will snap. (I'm not talking about the deep sea big game fishing line that could pull in a prize winning swordfish. I'm talking about the average, my Daddy just retired and he's getting a boat so he can fish for catfish and brim fishing line.)

The weight is the same, but the tool holding the weight is very different. The 20 pound weight isn't stressful to the steel cable, but the poor brim fishing line just might need some Prozac.

So, why am I sharing this? Well, I haven't been fishing, but Mama, she needs some Prozac. We have been going through a lot of changes and decision making in our family and my little Brim Buster is just about ready to break.

But, I know what to do. Certainly, I always turn to God in prayer and listen to Him through His Word. I talk to my husband, family and my very dear friends. (Can I just say that those friends are worth more than their weight in Prozac?!)

And I do one more thing- I talk to my doctor. I am not making light of the situation.

OK. I am. My sarcasm is a pathetic coping mechanism. I tell people these things so that maybe someone reading this will seek help for herself. I realized years ago that I need medication. Some people are able to manage their lives with therapy alone, but I cannot. It's OK. It doesn't make me a weak person. In fact, it takes a lot of strength to admit you need any kind of outside help when life just gets to be too heavy.

What I really want to share with you is that when your little fishing line just can't hold the weight, get help. Talk to someone. Talk to your doctor. Talk to a therapist. Just don't try to pull in that big catch all by yourself.

If you know someone who seems to be under some sort of weight herself, be a friend. Don't try to understand why her "fishing line" can't pull in a minnow. Just know that it doesn't. She may or may not want advice. One thing for sure- She needs you to just "be there." Assure her that she doesn't have to carry the weight alone. Encourage her to get some help, whatever type of help is right for her.

No matter what weight you are trying to carry, just realize that we are all very different. We all need different methods of coping and we all need to recognize those differences in ourselves and in others. Be encouraged and know God loves you and He cares for you, whether your stress is a new job, a new baby, or a new hairdo.

It's all relative.

Sometimes we have a baby and we need to "breathe." Sometimes we have a headache and we need an aspirin. And, sometimes we may just stub our pinky toe and we need an epidural and the entire Pain Management Team.

Hey, doc! My epidural wore off...

Linda does it again.

Linda over at 2nd Cup has given up coffee for Lent and I am not sure what she is drinking in its place.

Ahem.

You must go now, dear ones, and read Sunday's post about school musical programs. It is laugh out loud funny!

Quiz Answers

1. Hunt For Red October- Way to go, Melissa!

2. Seinfeld- George pretends to be a marine biologist. Lynne- You go, girl! Any Seinfeld nut is a friend of mine. :>)

3. Forrest Gump

4. Fried Green Tomatoes- Evelyn says this to her husband. She prepared him a "low cholesterol meal" for Valentine's Day and he asked her if she was trying to kill him.

5. King of The Hill- Peggy Hill to Bobby. (There are so many classic Bobby Hill lines. Hard to pick just one!)

6. Steel Magnolias

7. Friends- Ross to Rachel. If it hadn't been a comedy, they could have named it Knots Landing.

8. Toy Story- Woody

I gotta go....there's a snake in my boots...

Movie and TV Quotes Pop Quiz

Do you remember these?

1. "I will live in Montana. And I will marry a round American woman and raise rabbits, and she will cook them for me. And I will have a pickup truck... maybe even a "recreational vehicle." And drive from state to state. Do they let you do that?"

2. ""The sea was angry that day, my friends. Like an old man trying to send back soup in a deli."

3. "The best thing about visiting the President is the food! Now, since it was all free, and I wasn't hungry but thirsty, I must've drank me fifteen Dr. Peppers."

4. "If I was gonna kill you, I'd use my hands."

5. "Mom, I'm fat."
" No, honey, you're not. You're husky. It says so on your jeans."

6. "Miss Truvy, I promise that my personal tragedy will not interfere with my ability to do good hair. "

7. "We were on a break!"

8. "Somebody's poisoned the waterhole!"

Answers tomorrow... Have Fun!

Where in the world is Melanie Diego?

OK.

I'm still here. In case any of you had nothing better to do and were wondering why I have not pitifully attempted to amuse or inspire anyone with my Kindergarten level writing in a few days, let me explain. I've been busy with The Thing Called Life.

Blah Blah Blah

Like trying to decide whether we will stay in our rental, buy a home, what to buy, where to buy, what color bath towels to hang... OK not that. Much prayer and gnashing of teeth is happening at my house.

So, in an effort to prove that I am alive and kickin' I offer you this proof:

My Pitiful Attempt At A Post Which I Wrote In The Car, But Not Literally As I Do Not Multi-task While Driving Unless You Count Applying Lipstick And Listening To My Daughter's Philosophy On Life

The title itself could be a post because it is so long and boooorrrinngggg....

Here goes-

Proof That I Am A Product Of The 80's

1. I get excited when I hear Thriller on the radio. I spent one entire summer glued to MTV waiting for them to play the Thriller video again. When it came on, I called all of my friends and told them to,"Turn on the TV! Thriller is on for the 300Th time today!! Don't miss it! Oh My Ga- Do you see those dance moves? AHHH! He is going to break through the door!"

Ahhhh. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha. Ahhhhh. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha.

And if you don't hear Vincent Price in your head right now you are probably too young... sigh...

Yes, people. I knew Michael before he became a freak.

2. I cannot style my hair without using hairspray. At least one whoosh over the top of my head.

3. When I can't find someone, I am tempted to say,"Bueller, Bueller."

4. I have tasted New Coke.

5. I have heard Eddie Murphy sing.

6. I understand that a Flock of Seagulls may or may not have anything to do with birds.

7. I know that Big Country had a song called Big Country on an album with Big Country written on it, but I don't remember where they were from. (somewhere you can ride four wheelers, apparently)

8. I always wanted to party like it was 1999, but I didn't know that I'd have to stock up on food and fear the end of the world... ahem.

9. I remember when Sarah Jessica Parker was a brunette.

Square Pegs, Square Pegs, Square Square.

10. We did not use acid as a drug. We washed our jeans in it. It made it much easier to rip them.

I didn't personally wash them in acid. I bought them already washed in acid, which means I paid (well, my mom paid) for someone to wash them in acid. That is so much more pathetic. I think if I had access to acid or other corrosive material, I probably would have done it myself. Scary.

11. Jellies are shoes, not condiments for toast.

12. I saw Sinbad and Rosie on Star Search.

13. I know what Paula Abdul and Arsenio Hall have in common.

14. I used to think that computers could "think" and talk to you.

15. I lived without the Internet.

OK. That last one? Nearly sent me into a panic attack. You mean we actually existed and managed to live a normal, balanced life without google? Who knew?

16. Then there's this display of fashion mistakes-





Happy Weekend, Y'all!

More moments in the car

Daughter- "Mommy, sometimes I'm idealess."

Mommy- ""You're what?"

Daughter- "Idealess."

Mommy- "Oh. That's called writer's block."

Daughter- "And sometimes my brain works faster than my fingers can write and I say, 'Stop it! Slow down!!"

Mommy to herself- That hasn't happened to me in a while...

;>)

His Eye Is On The Sparrow

Yesterday my daughter and I went to the park. It was just one of those days where you absolutely must go outside or you would burst. The weather was perfect and you could feel Spring on your skin.

While we were there, we enjoyed the birds and giggled a lot. Something about sunshine and songbirds makes you giggle.

It began to get dark and we started walking back to the car (a long trek at this park). As we made our way back we happened upon an area where some teenagers had enjoyed a picnic. And left their cans and garbage behind.

We still had a long way to walk and were without any type of bag. Still, my daughter insisted that we pick up every single can and scrap of plastic strewn about this area of the park. She was worried about the birds and the animals getting caught in some of the plastic or being harmed by the garbage left behind.

Our arms were full and may I say- I wound up with drips of Dr. Pepper, Mt. Dew, and beer (yuck) all down my t-shirt. We gathered an empty box of Girl Scout cookies, too. The Girl Scouts would have been disappointed.

Two cans were left. There was absolutely no way we could gather them in our already full arms. (I made sure my daughter did not carry any beer cans. I had all of the really disgusting trash.)

My daughter began to cry,"What about the birds? Mommy, can't we come back? Can't we walk to the trash can and come back and get these cans, too?"

"No, we can't, Sweetie. It is getting dark. We are the only ones here and it just isn't safe for a Mommy and her little girl to be out here alone," I said, my heart breaking at the sight of her tears.

She continued to cry as we walked back to our car, loaded down with someone else's trash.

I turned to her and said,"We just have to pray that God will send someone else to pick up those cans, too. He sent you here. He loves that you care about His Earth and the animals. He is smiling right now. He will take care of it."

My words seemed to comfort her and we kept walking, the sun quickly sliding down behind the horizon. As we walked along, we found an empty box someone had left behind. We put all of the trash we had gathered in the box and continued on, reaching the trash can and our car.

When we got in the car, after some serious Purell sanitizing, I shared with her how I have learned to trust God. When I am overwhelmed and think that I have to be the one to save the world, I have to remind myself that God has a whole army of Christians working for Him. Many times in my life, I have worked on a project or struggled to help someone and I've tried to do it all by myself. It is so frustrating to feel like you are working alone. When I have faith and give it all to God, I am so comforted knowing that He is in control and He will prevail.

"Just say a prayer and He will take care of it," I said.

"I already did, Mommy," she answered from the back seat.

We drove home and I suddenly realized that I need to literally practice what I preach. I have had so many things weighing heavy on my heart lately. I have allowed doubt to fill the space where faith should dwell. Right then, I said a silent prayer, asking God to "take care of it."

This morning I received an email letting me know that God had indeed "taken care of it."

My first thought was about the birds- the sparrows that He loves. He cares for them. Surely, He will care for me, His Child. I am reminded that I am worth more to Him than many sparrows. (Luke 12:6-7)

Thank you, God, for taking care of me and for providing all my needs. I just want to take this moment to praise You.

Psalms 84

"How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord of Heaven’s Armies.
I long, yes, I faint with longing to enter the courts of the Lord.

With my whole being, body and soul, I will shout joyfully to the living God.
Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow builds her nest

and raises her young at a place near your altar,

O Lord of Heaven’s Armies, my King and my God!
What joy for those who can live in your house, always singing your praises.
What joy for those whose strength comes from the Lord,

who have set their minds
on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.
When they walk through the Valley of Weeping,

it will become a place of refreshing springs.

The autumn rains will clothe it with blessings.
They will continue to grow stronger,

and each of them will appear before God in Jerusalem.
O Lord God of Heaven’s Armies, hear my prayer.
Listen, O God of Jacob.
O God, look with favor upon the king, our shield!

Show favor to the one you have anointed.
A single day in your courts is better than a thousand anywhere else!

I would rather be a gatekeeper in the house of my God

than live the good life in the homes of the wicked.
For the Lord God is our sun and our shield. He gives us grace and glory.
The Lord will withhold no good thing from those who do what is right.
O Lord of Heaven’s Armies, what joy for those who trust in you."

Medicare, Marmaduke, and Miatas.

I think I may have discovered a phenomenon.

I was out today running an errand and I saw an elderly lady walking her dog. The dog was a cute little pup, walking as fast as his little legs could carry him. This is when I realized something. The age of a person is reversely correlated to the size of their pet.

For example, when you are a kid you love puppies and all dogs, but what are the typical family dogs that Santa brings? Labs, Golden Retrievers, German Shepherds, and Rottweilers.

Yep. When you are a kid, your dog is big. Even our favorite cartoon dogs were big- Marmaduke and my personal favorite, Scoobie Doo. You can't get much bigger than a Great Dane!

So, there we are, growing up with this big dog. We throw the ball for him. We take him for walks. He pulls us over with the leash while lunging for a squirrel. Our dog is just one, big bundle of fun.

Then we leave home, get a job and our own apartment. They don't take big pets, so we get a medium sized dog like a beagle or a poodle, or a cute mutt from the pound.

Before we know it, we are retiring and moving off to Florida and our dog of choice is a Bichon Frise.

The opposite is true for the car we drive. As we age, the size of the car gets bigger. This has happened to me. My first car was a cute, sporty Toyota Paseo. I was so cool. Now I drive a Camry and our next vehicle will most likely be a mini-van.

What do old people drive? Cadillacs. Yes, the older you get, the larger your vehicle becomes. Why is this? Do we need the room? What are we hauling around besides our dentures and our depends?

I guess if I live to be 100, I'll be driving around in my RV with my tiny, tea cup Chihuahua in my lap, hanging his tiny tea cup tongue out the window.

Let the good times roll.

Extreme Sports in the Womb

They say that babies can experience a lot in the womb. They hear and feel much of what we hear and feel when we are pregnant. This may have a lot to do with the reason my daughter won't eat potatoes.

When I was in my first trimester I had a lot of nausea. I never threw up. I just wanted to. For about a month all I wanted was potato products from Sonic. One day I ate tater tots and fries for two separate meals. I use the word "meal" loosely. I went nuts with the spuds. Maybe it was the starch, or maybe the salt. I don't know, but it worked. I

After the urge to purge went away, I craved certain foods like Chinese, Mexican, anything spicy, turkey sandwiches and Cheetos (had to be at the same time), and Brach's chocolate covered peanut clusters.

If it were possible, I would write a thank you note to the person who united the peanut with chocolate. This was pure genius. And to take roasted peanuts, pile them all on top of one another in a football-style tackle, then smother them in rich chocolate?

Sweet Mother of Pearl.

Most normal people would buy the bag of Brach's chocolate covered peanut clusters and it would last them, oh, a few days or maybe a week. I was pregnant. It lasted me for the ride home.

Yes, M'am. I ate an entire day's worth of calories en route from Wal-mart to my house. Sometimes I would pace myself, saving a few for when I got home, so I could drink a tall glass of skim milk with them. I went with the skim to keep my girlish figure.

To this day my daughter loves Cheetos and Reese's peanut butter cups. She has just recently discovered the negative nutritional goodness of Girl Scout cookies- peanut butter patty.

If Homer Simpson is reading this post, I promise you that he is drooling right now and yelling for Marge to bring him a snack.

Just as the pregnancy potato products had an adverse effect on my daughter's taste for spuds, I fear that one day she will have some unusual aversions without knowing why.

Let me explain.

When I was about 7 months pregnant, we visited the Outer Banks. My husband wanted to see one of the lighthouses so we decided to take the "ferry" on over.

Now, what do you think of when I say "ferry?" You think of a normal barge type water craft, don't you? Oh, no. You are so very wrong. This particular ferry was a small, teeny, tiny, minuscule fishing boat. This boat was so small that if you actually did go fishing in it, you would have to leave the fish behind because there wouldn't be enough room for you and the fish to go home.

The weather was cold, damp, and windy and the water was rough. It was white capping like the foam on your cappuccino. The ride was a very long 15 minutes. The driver completely ignored the fact that my belly was the size of a nuclear reactive watermelon and decided to keep his tight schedule.

The faster he went, the more the boat bounced. Boom. Boom. Boom. My bottom kept bouncing up and down, over and over. I thought for sure I would go into labor. When we arrived on the island to see the lighthouse, I cried like a scared, mom-to-be. We asked the sweet, retired park volunteer if there was any other way back.

The lady brought me a chair, gave me some Coke, and said,"Shug, the only other way out of here is by helicopter. Do you need me to call one for you?"

Now I had to decide if I wanted to take the chance going back with Captain Pogo Stick or request that the state park personnel call a chopper in to save me from premature labor and a nervous breakdown.

I went with the boat ride. Only this time, the Captain was a little more understanding. He must have told his first mates back at the dock about this huge pregnant woman he almost sent into labor. My guess is they gave him a piece of advice- Give the woman a seat on the back of the canoe along with a huge cushion and slow down.

So we made it back safely. It ended up being a wasted trip anyway. My husband was disappointed that the lighthouse was closed and he couldn't actually go in it. He was grateful that I didn't have a baby right there on the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

I managed not to have a nervous breakdown or severely injure Captain Pogo Stick.

My daughter was fine, but I have a feeling she will never, ever want to go bungee jumping.

I don't mean to brag...

Oh, yes I do!

Just when you think your week is really starting to stink (literally) with smelly fungi sprouting in the yard, Newman losing a package and did I mention that my sink stopped up last night...

Anyhoo.

Just when you're having a no good, rotten, terrible, bad day, you find out that this poem won First Place in the State Creative Writing Competition.

Oh, yes M'am. Mama has been burnin' up the cell phone with this one.

And the Internet. And the local papers... OK, not the papers.

And did I also mention that I carried this child for 9 months and birthed her after a gazillion hours of labor and an epidural that wore off?

I did?

OK. I have been known to repeat myself.

It's my blawg and I'll brag if I want to.

;>)

Hello again, Newman.

Newman and I aren't getting along.

Newman lost a package that I "returned" but I wasn't really returning it. I was refusing delivery, because it took Newman over 2 weeks to deliver a package I had ordered from a "certain company" that supplies novelties and delightfully cheap crafts.

And I LOVE delightfully cheap crafts.

It was supposed to take a week for Newman to deliver said package. I was under a time restraint. The crafts were for Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving was fast approaching. The company offered to overnight a second package to me at no charge, using another shipping company. That package arrived on time and intact. The company suggested that I refuse deliver for Newman's package, because it would be the easiest method of handling the situation.

Boy, were we naive.

I actually drove to Newman's "office" and refused delivery, handing the slow and damaged packaged to him personally. Newman, in Newman's typical tone, was not even apologetic for the slow delivery or the fact that the package was damaged and partially opened.

Fast forward 3 months. The company has not received the returned package and now wants to charge me for the delightfully cheap crafts or have me mail the package to them. (The crafts I don't have from the package I never even opened.) In several phone calls, the company has suggested that I talk to Newman.

Newman.

Well, I did talk to Newman. Only Newman told me that it was out of his hands, since I was refusing delivery, there were no services involved and therefore nothing Newman could do. Newman advised me that I should have paid to prove the mail return, even though I was not actually mailing anything and in Newman's own words,"there were no services involved."

It's just like Newman to charge me for a service I am technically not receiving.

That Newman!

Tomorrow- Why I hate the library.

I am just full of joy today. Can ya tell?

Consider this my PSA for the day.

If you see these in your yard,

do not poke them with a stick.

The grass is always stranger on the other side.

It's always a learning experience at our house.

Last night we were getting ready to go out for dinner when my daughter ran in the house to say,"Mama! Come quick! Snake eggs!"

Just as a reminder, we live in a rental house in your average, Edward Scissorhands, I can knock on the neighbor's door without leaving the house suburbia. We don't really know our neighbors that well, which, at times can be a good thing.

We also don't understand the complexity of their landscaping.

Our neighbor has a large, nicely landscaped area adjacent to our house. There are native plants and outdoor lighting and what appears to be snake eggs.

Daughter and I ran outside and found Daddy looking over the eggs in question. I ran up next to him and there they were- white egg-shaped somethings all nestled in the mulch. What's more, it looked like there were tiny, orange legs inside the eggs.

EEEWWWW!

The three of us stood over the egg nest and just threw out ideas-

"I don't think those are snake eggs. Snakes don't have legs."

"But, what is it? Alligator? Turtle? Birds?"

"Mama, I don't want you and Daddy to get bit!"

"This is totally grossing me out."

"Maybe they're dinosaurs... Mama's just kidding."

Then I poked at them with a stick because, well, that's what you do when you find something gross and you don't know what it is.

We encouraged daughter to go in and wash her hands so we could go to dinner. As she was inside, husband and I discussed the oddity in the neighbor's yard. We were certain that whatever these eggs were, they were not going to hatch now. Nothing could keep them warm and well, I had poked them with a stick.

So we headed off to dinner, still puzzled. I was praying that whatever was about to hatch in my yard was not deadly and that the Chinese restaurant we were going to did not have any crab claws or bird parts on the buffet.

EEEEWWW!

On the way there, we entertained the idea that the eggs could be a plant, a mushroom, or something alien. At the mention of "alien" my daughter said some kid did it, "probably a boy!" We finally managed to change the subject, have a nice dinner, then return home.

To the stench. The retched stench.

We pulled in the driveway, got out of the car and looked at each other, wrinkling up our noses.

"What is that smell?"

"Smells like a paper mill!"

"Must be sewage."

You see, after careful investigation on the trusty Internet upon our return home, I found out that our eggs were not eggs at all. They are nasty, disgusting, smelly, octopus stinkhorn mushrooms. They grow in mulch in perfect conditions, and it seems that right now it is a perfect condition.

And, poking them with a stick is the last thing you want to do when you have stinkhorns growing in your yard or your neighbor's yard. Kicking them doesn't help either. The stench will catch a summer breeze and ride around for miles, sticking its tongue out at people as it goes by.

Nah-nah-nah-nah-nahhhh!

So we don't have snakes or alligators or birds or aliens incubating next door. We have putrid, smelly mushrooms. I would have welcomed a nice, friendly rattler any day.

Update- I promise that I will take a picture and post it tomorrow.

Y'all, Come on in!

It's a Blog Party!

Are any of you allergic to cats? Just let me know. I'll put Maggie in the garage. We had some friends over once who didn't tell us ahead of time. They came over for dinner and the poor man started to wheeze and his eyes watered up. I felt just terrible. We put the cat out but it was too late. Our friend ended up going home early.

So, just let me know. Mama always said to make sure my guests are able to see clearly and breathe. That's just a standard of hospitality where I come from.

I lit some candles to get rid of the boiled shrimp smell. We had shrimp for dinner. Now it just smells like vanilla shrimp.

Feel free to have a Diet Coke, some sweet tea, or some coffee. I'll fix it for you. There are some finger foods in the dining room. Please, help yourself.

Oh, and excuse the fingerprints in the fudge. My daughter helped herself to some while I was in the kitchen... let me put that away right now...

Welcome! I am so glad you stopped by my little blog. That begonia on my porch has bloomed for a solid six months! It looks a little anemic and grey, though. The hyacinths haven't lost a single bloom and they have stayed a vibrant lavender. It's really amazing; I've never been able to grow a thing. My husband is the gardener in the family.

I love to write about everyday things. I really love to find humor in everyday things. Humor is what keeps me sane. And, let me tell y'all, I am teetering on the edge. I love being a wife and mom. God has blessed my life so much.

If you are new here, just make yourself at home. Have a seat and stay for a spell. You are welcome at our house any time!

Here are a few of my favorite posts:


This is what happens when my imagination gets loopy.

This is what my life has come to.

Dear OSHA

Our family's Marilyn

A Novel for Meme? Why, bless your bloggin' heart!

After the storm...

He is still with you.

Please go here-http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHdcyue0bSw

for some encouragement. I am having problems posting a video for some reason today.

Please pray for those recovering from the storms in Alabama, Georgia and Missouri.

Our hearts are with you.

This Is A Message From the Emergency Broadcast System

It has rained all day and there are tornado watches all over the southeast.

I can't help but think about this story-

Get the flashlight. I feel a drizzle.

Where's my purse?