Not another Hallmark card

I'm planning our 4Th of July, Independence Day for the United States.

We are having homemade hamburgers (with handmade patties), fries and maybe a little ice cream for dessert. I bought some sparklers so let's cross our fingers that we all still have our fingers when it's all over. We also bought some red, white and blue decorations to cheer up the porch.

The thing is, during all of this planning and festooning, I started feeling a little guilty.

There are men and women on the front lines, away from their kids, sleeping in tents, or on the ground, or in a dusty ditch, or unable to sleep anywhere. Some of them are wounded, recovering in hospitals or at home relearning how to walk, if they are able to walk at all.

All the while, I am trying to decide what kind of hamburger buns we should have. Sounds a little pathetic, doesn't it?

So I thought about it. I want us to celebrate but I don't want to take for granted the people who are literally, at this moment, making the celebration possible.

I want them all to know how thankful I am.

Not a Hallmark kind of thankful.

Not a let's all sing Lee Greenwood for the 500Th time so we can feel all warm and fuzzy and patriotic inside and move on to our daily routines July 5Th.

Nope. Not that kind of thankful.

I want all of the soldiers, active and retired, to know how truly grateful I am for them. So I will do for them what matters most.

I will pray for them and for their families.

When someone makes ignorant, misguided remarks about how the military of this country is spoiled or pampered, I will proudly speak up for all the men and women who sacrifice daily for our freedom to make ignorant, misguided remarks.

I will vote responsibly.

I will stand in respect, hat off, hand on my heart, when I hear the National Anthem play.

And I will join in. And know all the words.

I will teach my daughter about Christian civic duty.

I will show my thanks by cherishing the freedoms we still hold dear to our hearts...

Freedom to worship anywhere I choose without fearing death.

Freedom to express myself, even on the Internet.

Freedom to walk down the street to visit a neighbor without fear of a car bomb.

Freedom to be a Stay-At-Home-Mom or a doctor or a dentist or a plumber, or whatever I dream.

Freedom to own a Bible.

Freedom to do the small, everyday things that we take for granted...

A warm slice of apple pie or a cold wedge of watermelon.

Grilling hamburgers out back while savoring the smell of my neighbor's BBQ ribs next door.

Feeling warm and fuzzy when I hear Lee Greenwood or I sing the national anthem.

Seeing my child's face in the light of sparklers at dusk.

The little things that bring me happiness in the midst of freedom.

To all of the soldiers across the sea who are defending our freedom today and everyday, we thank you and we pray that you are safe. We'll keep the pie warm, the watermelon cold, and Old Glory waving proudly until you come home.

God Bless you.

Favorite eateries in my hometown, or some town, somewhere.

There's a meme going around town asking bloggers to post their favorite restaurants in their hometown. I've read a few of them and it looks like a lot of fun.

Being that I don't even divulge what state I live in, me thinks me has to tweek the meme a bit.

Here are a few of my favorite types of restaurants:

1. Sweaty BBQ- I love good BBQ and, no offense to you Eastern Carolinians, but I don't care for Eastern Carolina BBQ. It has to be Memphis Style for me. We lived in Eastern Carolina for a while and I missed me some good ketchup-based pulled pork. My husband did, too. For his birthday one year, I had dinner from Corky's shipped to our house.

For a moment, I believe he thought he was Elvis.

Some of you are wondering what on earth is sweaty BBQ. I'll tell ya. When you walk in a place that sells bbq and the place is clean and air conditioned (not including Sonny's), just politely tell the hostess you won't be needing a table and walk out.

Good BBQ comes from places where it is hotter than blue blazes and the cook is literally wiping his brow as he pulls the ribs out of the pit. Don't worry about the health inspector report. There is none.

The best places serve light bread. (Light bread is just plain ole' sandwich bread straight out of the bag. I have no idea why we call it "light." We just do.)

2. An authentic ethnic place, like Mexican or Chinese. Never eat in a Mexican restaurant that plays rock music or a Chinese place that plays jazz. It's just not right. And I'm sorry, but I don't want a red-headed Irish kid bringing me my wontons.

3. A steak place that serves real, honest to goodness beef. It's what's for dinner. Steak shouldn't be fancy, just good. While I appreciate the attempt at cowboy atmosphere, you can just leave out the country line dancing. I've got a big knife in my hand and I'm trying to cut up my meal. Don't distract me. Someone could get hurt.

4. Country cooking like Granny made. I like the kind of place where I have to walk up onto a porch to get to the front door. There aren't many tables, but all of them have a nice tablecloth draped on them and one fresh flower in a milk glass bud vase. They serve fried chicken every day, but the vegetables are seasonal. In the summer, you can get the best fresh sliced tomatoes and butter beans. You have a choice of biscuits or cornbread and the tea is always sweet. The closest chain to this type of dining would be Cracker Barrel.

Now I'm hungry.

:>)

It's time for a new do.

I have not had my hair properly cut and colored for oh, maybe two months or more. EEEKK! I have tried to prolong the inevitable with the clippy, the headband (not the best choice for a forehead the size of Texas), and the natural look.

I'm Southern. We don't do the natural look. From our early years, we are told that beauty is within. We've accepted the harsh reality that beauty is not natural and we've perfected the use of powder, lipstick, perms, hairspray, nail polish, and peroxide. Errr... are there any carcinogens I've left out?

This morning I was getting ready for church, trying to tame what was once a pretty sassy, textured bob. I used the curling iron (a staple in my house) to carefully smooth down what had been textured ends and is now just a big ole' mess. I looked at myself in the mirror and realized that I looked like this woman.

But thankfully, not quite like this woman.



I admire Joyce Brothers, if not for her advice, for her impeccable skill of maintaining the same hairstyle since, well, just since. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she must be Southern. Southern women have perfected the ability to keep a hairdo in place for an entire week, between the Friday Wash and Style. Dr. Brothers has managed to keep her hair in place for decades.


Dear Dr. Brothers,

Would you please give me some advice?

What kind of Aqua Net are you using?

Sincerely,
A woman who is calling for a hair appointment tomorrow

I'd like to thank my producers, um, if I had any.

You guys know how to make a girl feel special.

The other day, Linda said she nominated me for the Rockin Girl Blogger Award, then Tammy, and today, His Singer also nominated me. Before I had time to post a real thank you, you know, between the poopy stuff and the dumpster diving, I was overwhelmed with specialness! YOU guys Rock.

My husband is gonna crack up if and when he reads this and sees that not one, but three people out there think I rock. He still thinks I like to square dance.

I'd like to award a few of you out there...

First of all, my entire blogroll deserves this award, which is why they are in my blogroll.

I'd also like to nominate a few other bloggers I have visited from time to time.

1. Sista Cala @ Timeless Text Messages. I have a deep respect for her courage and her candor in sharing her faith in The Lord. She also manages to slide a little humor in between the lines. Take a minute to read through her archives. You'll soon get to know her voice.

2. Karla @ Looking Towards Heaven. She is a Christian mom trying to be the best she can be with His Help, just like the rest of us. I recently learned she had plum hair and wore white lipstick in high school. That's Rockin'! I love the little curly parentheses around her name when she leaves a comment.

I'm gonna go out on a limb here ('cause that's where the fruit is) and say that any woman who has the courage to share her faith in Jesus totally rocks.

And now I shall play my air guitar.

The truth is...

I love VBS.

Vacation Bible School gives me a chance to tell a child about Jesus, my Savior and my best friend. Every child needs a best friend. Every child needs a Savior.

"Then little children were brought to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked those who brought them.
Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Matthew 19: 13-14, NIV

It ain't over 'til every kid has cried. Or someone requires a visit to the eye wash area.

Today was the last day of VBS. In the words of Gloria Gaynor, I survived.

Let me tell ya about today. You thought poop was bad...

Our kids painted some really neat shirts on Monday and the plan was for them to wear them tonight for Family Night. There's one thing I've learned through the years of helping with VBS- plans are just an innocent attempt at organized chaos.

The very thorough craft teachers put the finished shirts neatly in small plastic bags, labeled them, and placed them nicely in each room so that we could pass them out and our kids could look really cool and VBS'y in them. Then a very sweet and helpful youth helper went to each class to gather trash bags and helpfully throw them in the dumpster out back.

Y'all know where this is going. Funny thing about small bags of shirts. They look a lot like small bags of trash.

Some very sweet and helpful older boys volunteered to look through the dumpster for our class' shirts. They came back empty handed.

They're sweet kids, but they are no match for the Olympic champion of dumpster diving. I rolled up my sleeves, and with the help of another brave teacher, I WENT IN. The shirts were rescued. The tiny bag of painted shirts was inside a big bag of garbage containing lots of red Kool Aid. Why does it always have to be red?

I felt a little bit like the marathoner who rounds the corner, swiftly crossing the finish line. I entered the building and the crowd cheered.

All was right with the world- after a really good scrubbing. (And I don't mean just the shirts.)

Rated G for All Guests

We invited one of my daughter's friends to come home with us from VBS. They have known each other since their toddler years. The little girl's mom and I have been close friends as well and we've worked on many ministries together, including directing VBS one year. (Mental note- save that story for another post.)

After a trip through the drive-thru at the oh-so-tasty-and-not-so-nutritious fast food restaurant that serves Joyful Meals, the girls came home and played. At one point, they were just plain tired from the summer heat and I suggested a movie.

I offered for our guest to select the movie.

In a matter of fact statement of clear conviction, she said,"I don't know. Let me see. You might have some movies here that I'm not allowed to watch."

*Swallow Burst of Laughter*

"I think we're OK."

:>)

It's like a little checklist that you never want to complete.

Updated to add-
I give Grafted Branch the Great Scooper Award for the Best Comment Ever.

1. Woke up this morning to a coffee pot that stood up on the counter, raised its Folgers fists at me and refused to work.

2. VBS Week. Need. Coffee.

3. Spent the better part of the day trying to stay conscious so that I could supervise a room full of preschoolers and prevent injuries (to me, not them.)

4. When exiting (and I mean quickly) the Bible story rotation, I smelled poop.

5. In an effort to help the Bible study teacher, I returned to the room to, excuse the pun, sniff out the source.

6. Left the room bewildered.

7. Was later informed by the Bible study teacher that the odor was coming from the carpet. Yep. I said CARPET AKA Cannot be bleached and oh my word I feel sorry for the poor soul who is scrubbing the spot.

8. Spent the last part of the morning investigating the original source.

9. Preschool class.

10. Poopy smell.

11. Scary.

12. Ended the day scrubbing poop from the bottom of a tiny, Tinkerbell tennis shoe while gagging over the commode in the nursery and not even trying to guess where the poop came from. Or who. Or what.

Where's a good airport dog when you need it?

There's nothing worse than a floater.

When my husband and I were in college, he told me about a death investigations class he was taking. I was all enthralled and intrigued in the entire subject being that I was a psychology major and completely in love with him.

He could've been taking a course on styrofoam and I would've been rivoted. Rivoted, I tell ya!

One thing I remember about the class is when they talked about the different situations in which a law enforcement officer would discover a body.

The professor said,"There's nothing worse than a floater," meaning someone who had been submerged in water. To limit the gagging and heaving that may ensue if I explain what he meant, let's just say that a person who has been in water for a long time is very unpleasant.

For some reason, that phrase has stuck in my mind over the years, which is why it became the title of this post. I also have a strange way of connecting the "unconnectable."

Like, um, dead people and Vacation Bible School.

I'm not sayin' religion is dead. BADA BING!

I volunteered to help with VBS this year. Over the last few years I've worked as assistant director, teacher, props painter, miscellaneous and now floater.

And there's nothing worse than a floater.

Last year I got stuck, I mean I was blessed to help with the preschoolers. I love kids. I do. I just didn't think I had the gift to work with that age group. God, being the Awesome God that He is, gave me the strength and the stamina to work with the preschoolers last summer. It turned out to be a great week of real miracles for them and for me as a worker. If we are willing to work for God, He always takes care of the rest.

This year I said I would float where needed. Long story too boring to explain, I was not able to prepare as a lead teacher would and should, so floating seemed appropriate. I had only one request.

Please, for the love of Peter and John, don't put me with the preschoolers.

Yesterday I worked with the Kindergarten class. The entire day, the lead teacher and I would look over at the preschool class and, in sincere sympathy, we would comment on how we felt so sorry for the teachers and how they looked soooo exhausted.

So, of course, this morning when the Kindergarten teacher had plenty of help, I volunteered to help the Pre-K class AKA The Class That No One Wants and Everyone Fears.

I knew God would help me through. I had asked Him to put me where He needed me most. I had only hoped He needed me in snacks and crafts. :>)

Let me tell you something about God. He is full of pleasant surprises.

While we were in music, a little boy who had screamed during half of the morning breaking stained glass in churches within a 10 mile radius decided he didn't want to sing. He wanted to sit off to himself and pout. I sat with him and asked him to sing.

He said,"I don't sing very good."

I said,"God thinks you do. He loves to hear your voice, especially when you are singing to Him."

Still, no singing.

I said,"If you want to, just sing quietly to Jesus and He will hear you. I won't listen if you don't want me to."

He said softly,"Will Jesus hear me sing when I go home?"

"Yes, He will. He hears you talk to Him or sing to Him no matter where you are."

"Is He on a cloud? I want to jump up and go to Him."

"No. He's in Heaven, but, anytime you want Him with you, just say His Name and He will be right beside you. You won't see Him, but you will know He is there."

And with that, the little boy nodded his head, put his tiny thumb back in his mouth, and contently watched the class sing aloud.

And Jesus heard him singing softly in his heart.

And I wouldn't trade that moment for passing out Kool-Aid or gluing Popsicle sticks or for anything in the world.

All this time, I thought I was a Delta Mom.

Have you heard the buzz about the New Mommy War? It's The Slacker Mom vs. The Alpha Mom.

I never knew I was even fighting someone, much less in a war. Did you?

You know how it goes. The media jumps on a crusade about extreme moms and then they decide to lump us all into groups, much like how the select teams for dodge ball.

And I HATE dodge ball.

Then the Merediths and the Katies who, ahem, do not have a clue about my life, invite two extreme opposite mothers to "discuss" their viewpoints about the opposing "teams." Hey, Today Show execs, I don't play team sports and I never appointed anyone captain.

I really believe that most moms support each other. We may disagree about potty training or whether or not to bottle feed, but for the most part, we try to support and lend a helping hand to other moms.

Unless they are, ya know, really weird or something.

These Mommy Wars are interesting to me just as a sociology/psychology nerd and I love looking at descriptions and trying to figure out where I would fit. When I first heard about Slackers and Alphas, I assumed I was kind of in the middle. As it turns out, I lean a little more to the Alpha side because of, but not limited to, the following traits-

1. I have themed birthday parties and make treat bags. (Because I enjoy it.)
2. My kid's socks match. (It ain't tough when they all came from Old Navy and are all the same color.)
3. I send real snacks to school when needed. (Because, as for now, I don't work outside of home and also enjoy making cupcakes. But I have been known to purchase an entire box of Little Debbie's at the last minute.)
4. I keep up with my kid's lost tooth. (I only have one kid, and she hasn't lost that many teeth yet. Give me a few years.)

So this makes me an Alpha Mom? OK. I can handle that. And why Alpha? What's up with that? I thought Alpha was usually followed by Dog, not Mom. And why is it that a mom who is not even heavily medicated with nerve pills and takes life as it comes is called a Slacker? I don't think they are slackers. I call it Organically Relaxed.

All of this Mommy War hoopla is mildly entertaining at most. Let's not take it too seriously.

Now, car seat safety and protection from child predators- that's something to fight for.

Thank you, Mr. Inventor of Sprinkles

You are my hero.

So the birthday party was a success. I'm no expert in the matter, but no one got hurt, no one fell into the lake out back, no one was bitten by a venomous snake, and only two kids cried. I don't know about you, but that sounds like a throw down to me.

And speaking of which...

I interrupt this post to make an announcement. I just checked my site meter and I've noticed that I have a lot of readers from Texas. I have one thing to say- Don't mess with Texas. Thanks, y'all, from the Yellow Rose State, for stopping in here from time to time.

Now on to other pertinent things like foam craft thingies and sprinkles. You just can never go wrong with sprinkles. I have many varieties in my cupboard because I have become the Cupcake Mama. I have pink sugar, red sugar, flowers, dots, stars, orange beads, blue beads, yellow beads... Should I go on?

I also love the guy who invented foam crafts. He is a genius. Or maybe it is a She. I don't know. Anyone who can combine cheapness with stickers and eliminate the need for messy glue, to me, deserves the Nobel Peace Prize.

But then what would Jimmy Carter do with his?

The girls made hula skirts with craft foam. Two very sweet and helpful (not "chatty and in-the-way") moms stayed for the party. They pitched right in and helped with refreshments and the various foam craft thingies. Hubs was here, too. He is always the Life of the Part-ay. Kids love him.

It turned out to be a fun party without any lawsuits. TEE HEE

I have to share a great punch recipe with y'all. I had planned to make Linda's punch, but at the last minute I decided to make strawberry lemonade. It is my daughter's favorite drink and I found a very easy recipe on the All Knowing Internet. (Thanks, Al.)

Here is the recipe. Go ahead and make some for your family. It has more of a lemonade taste than a punch taste. You could have it with lunch one day for a treat with the kids. And look out how little sugar is added!

Strawberry Lemonade Punch (Food Network)

2 cups boiling water
1/2 cup sugar
2 (10-ounce) packages frozen strawberries, thawed
5 cups cold water
2 (6-ounce) cans frozen pink lemonade concentrate, thawed

Combine the boiling water and sugar in a large container and stir until the sugar is dissolved.
Let the sugar mixture stand for 5 minutes. Add the strawberries, stirring well. Using a big spoon, press the strawberry mixture through a large strainer (I used a colander) into a pitcher or punch bowl until nothing is left in the strainer except for the strawberry pulp. Discard the pulp. Stir in the cold water and lemonade. Mix until well blended. Makes almost a gallon.

Side note- I didn't mind some of the strawberry pulp in the lemonade. Some of it strained through and I just left it. It tasted fine. This drink has more of a tart taste than you would expect. It was very good. The kids liked it, too.

Oh, the anticipation of it all makes me just giddy!

I have been planning a birthday party.

Let me be specific- an all girls little girl birthday party.

Can you hear the squeals and the glass shattering?

I can just picture the blogging material that will be readily available to me tomorrow evening, once I clean up cupcake frosting and teeny, tiny remnants of water balloons and then collapse on the cold, tile floor from utter exhaustion.

But don't worry, Internets, I shall pick myself up and dust off the sprinkles just to share the entire event with you.

And we use to walk uphill to our one room schoolhouse, both ways.

When we moved into our new house, we really didn't know what to expect.

Snakes. Turtles. Great bird watching.

And some of the sweetest neighbors anyone could ask for.

The day we first arrived with our aching backs and our rented truck, one neighbor brought us spaghetti dinner. It was so delicious. My husband and I could have rustled up just about anything to eat that night, but I was so thankful that our daughter had a homecooked meal.

We woke up the next morning to the smell of a warm, cinnamon coffee cake made by another sweet neighbor. It's like I moved next door to Martha Stewart and Paula Deen!

Since we've been settling in, both of our neighbors have expressed genuine hospitality. They have been so sweet. One of them (I'll call her Mrs. Coffee Cake) has the most wonderful children, including two girls close to my daughter's age.

The girls hit if off right from the start. They have similar temperaments and interests and I couldn't ask for sweeter playmates for my daughter.

Today they came over to play on the Slip N Slide. If you were a kid in the 70's, you know what I'm talking about. But let me tell ya, friends. The new Slip N Slide is totally rocking. It is inflated for cushioning so that you don't run and land flat on your stomach and knock the breath out of yourself. It also has a little pool at the end so you slide into a shallow, refreshing pool of water instead of onto the itchy grass.

If it didn't read "Not for Adult Use" I would seriously be putting on my suit and doing some sliding myself.

Today I overheard my daughter tell her friend, "My mommy said that when she was little, her Slip N Slide was boring. You had to slide on the hard ground and there was no pool at all. It wasn't fun."

Yes, we kids from the Stone Age didn't have these new-fangled toys. No, m'am.

We had toys that literally stopped us from breathing or caused the collapse of a lung as we fell forward, flat on our face and slid off into the grass or the hard ground.

We had a toy spring falsely labeled as "Fun for a girl or a boy."

We had Barbie with tan lines.

We had plastic, boxing robots.

We had Atari.

And we didn't even wear a helmet when we rode our bikes.

GASP!!

;>)

See, shopping is good for blogging.

Overheard in the craft store today...

"How did your sweater turn out?"

"The one with the blood on it?"

"Yeah."

"It came out fine."

Writer's Block Remedy

Hubs is off today and I am seriously in need of a Mommy/Wife Day Away of doing nothing productive and possibly swiping the debt card.

And who knows? Maybe I'll return this afternoon with some new material so that those cat urine Google Ads will GO AWAY.

;>)

Please Paula, for the love of White Lilly, just turn away.

My in-laws left this morning after a nice visit. It was the first time they've been to our new house. As soon as my mother-in-law put her purse down, my daughter had to give them the Tour de Grande.

"Here is my room that Mommy hasn't painted yet, except for the test spots of green vibe on the walls."

"This is your room, where you will sleep."

"That's the room where Mommy has pretty much thrown everything that hasn't been put away yet in an effort to swiftly make this place look presentable to family, friends, the UPS guy on the porch and Newman, when he occasionally makes an appearance."

The above quotes subjected to paraphrase.

We had a good time. There were games and shopping, playing, and a lot of spoiling (the good kind).

My father-in-law and husband painstakingly assembled one of those cedar fort/swing set structures designed by architects who flunked architecture school and now design cedar fort/swing sets.

When my husband tried to estimate the time it would take to build the fortress, he said rather confidently,"It'll take about three hours."

They woke up early Saturday morning and referred to the fifty-something steps it would take to complete the torture, I mean, construction.

About 9 hours and who-knows-how-many Big Gulps of water and Gatorade later, they finished the project, kicked off their shoes, came in to the cool AC and then collapsed, while our daughter, full of energy and sugar, tugged at her Daddy to "test it out."

Nothing like a full blown construction project with a million bolts (minus one missing bolt which required a trip to the home improvement store) to celebrate Father's Day weekend.

Which brings me to the sad title of this post- the even sadder Father's Day breakfast.

In an attempt to celebrate my husband's fine job of Daddyhood, I thought I'd make one of his favorites- homemade biscuits.

Sunday morning I got up, had a swig of coffee, and started breakfast. It wasn't anything fancy. Just biscuits, ham, scrambled eggs, and fruit. Something happened between the sifting of the flour and the pouring of the buttermilk and my biscuits turned out to be more like scones.

And I LIKE scones.

But only when I am wanting scones. I was wanting biscuits. I know what happened. I kneaded too much, and you biscuit makers know that kneading dough is a lot like teasing hair. One extra motion of the hand and there is just no turning back.

You have just ruin't your hair. Or your biscuit. Depending on whether you are at the kitchen counter or the bathroom counter.

The only time my biscuits were worse was the time we were first married and I accidentally used all purpose flour instead of self-rising. Can you say Hockey Pucks??

Lucky for me, we've been married 13 years and my husband, and my in-laws have had some of my better-tasting biscuits.

I'm so glad I wasn't the one building the fort.

Hey, Linda! I have a plan!!

And I must use exclamation points!

!!

I'm thinkin' that my snakes and your foxes should do lunch. Seriously, we could just put them together in a small, fenced area and let them fight it out.

Is that legal?

Disclaimer: No foxes or venomous snakes were harmed in the writing of this post.

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen Things I Should Be Doing Right Now Other Than Blogging

1. Cleaning house. I shudder to think how many times I will have to empty the gift from above called Dyson. The dust bunnies have reproduced like, well, rabbits, while I have been trotting up and down the Interstate.

2. Grocery shopping. The kids next door came over the other day and all I had to feed them was PB & J. And I'm Southern.

3. Laundry. So that I can wear something other than pajamas at the grocery store.

4. Catching up on some sleep. The daughter decided she wanted me to sleep on her trundle last night, then decided to fall on me while I was in a deep sleep. AND SHE STAYED THERE.

Very comfortable. But whoever said Motherhood was comfortable?

5. Since #1-3 are a priority, #4 will have to wait, so I guess I should be drinking my second cup of coffee. Shout out to Linda! :>)

6. Seeking snake repellant or therapy for my husband.

We have a small lake out back and it seems it attracts snakes. Go figure. Being a southerner, I don't mind snakes as long as all the bad ones are, you know, dead. I just know when to get the hoe. I also told daughter where they like to hide and find food. We took a little snakey tour of the yard, clapping our hands and making lots of noise.

My husband isn't quite as comfortable with the subject. He isn't afraid of them. Let's just say he has brought home some print outs to identify the bad snakes and has shared that a neighbor just killed a rattler. One could say, it's on his mind.

7. Doing a puzzle as I am being paged by the offspring who falls on you in the night and still wakes up chipper.

8. Learn to be a morning person.

9. Get my third cup of coffee.

10. Give up on thirteen and just shoot for ten. I'm not a quitter...

11. Plan menu for family visiting today.

12. Start on #3

13. So I can move on to #2.

;>)

My new favorite blog

Have you met the Slowskys?

I found their blog while visiting my sister-in-law and brother-in-law.

Be sure to click on the link to watch their TV commercials.

Very. Clever.

And slow.

;>)

Tagged for 8 Random Things

Sista Cala tagged me to share 8 random things about me. Let's see. Hmmm... what have I not revealed so far?



1. I always wanted to be a Rockette.



2. I like the smell of swimming pools and play dough, but not at the same time.



3. I have an uncanny ability to remember stuff, not important stuff, just stuff.



4. I love to fish.



5. My husband says I have a high-pitched snap. It really gets on his nerves.



6. When I am old, I want to be one of those ladies who wear a big hats in church and old pins with pearls.



7. I don't eat Miracle Whip.



8. I'm not afraid of snakes, but I don't like them.



Hey, it's biblical. That Eve!

When I am weak, He is strong.

I know you've been up at night losing sleep wondering why I haven't updated in like forever, so for the one person who is biting her nails trying to figure it out, here goes.

(I love run-on sentences.)

Forgive me if my grammar is off or I seem a little loopy. I'll just confess. I am a LOT loopy.



I just returned from a visit with my mother in Georgia. She had major surgery- double knee replacement. Let me say to you now that she is the bravest person I know. I am not sure that I could have one knee replaced, much less two at once. To CHOOSE to have this procedure is, to me, a very courageous decision.

That being said, the last few days have been very taxing on all of us. My daddy, Aunt Barbara, and me. But most of all, Mama.

I've learned a lot about my mother's courage, her frustrations, her hopes, her fears, and her God.

I am so grateful that He is my God, too.

I've learned more than I ever cared to know about speaking up for the ones you love when they cannot speak for themselves, about trusting in a new doctor, a new nursing staff, a new floor, and a new hope.

I found out that I am stronger than I ever imagined, and that His Strength is made perfect in my weakness.

And when we cannot physically or emotionally take another step, He holds our hand and takes that step for us.

When you feel all alone, even with a family member at your side, He is there.

When you press the nurse's call button and no one comes to ease the pain, He comes running.

He's there when the doctor shakes his head.

He's there in the darkness.

The cold.

The pain.

The desperation.

He is there.

He will come to your bedside and take your hand. He'll hold your hand as you hold your mama's hand.

Through all the pain and exhaustion, all you have to do is whisper "Jesus" and He will come.

And when your lips don't have the strength to form the words, He will hear you call Him from your heart.

And He will come.

He is my ever present hope, my strength, my strong tower.

And I love Him with all of my heart.

My cat is Cujo.

Some people have cute and cuddly kittens who mew and purr.

Some people have sweet, old cats who sleep on sun drenched sofas.

We have Maggie.

I picked her up from the kennel this afternoon and I felt a little like the parent who gets a call from school in the middle of the day. A call that goes something like this-

"M'am? This is Mrs. Peabody, the school principal. You need to come pick up Maggie right now. She has terrorized the entire school."

Maggie hates the kennel now. When she was a kitten, she loved it. The staff actually looked forward to her staying. Small children would drop by after school just to pet Maggie. Seriously, she was the belle of the ball.

Now, when we get out of the car with the carrier, the kennel staff peers out the office window and gasps in sheer terror. One time I walked in with Maggie, and I promise you, I think I saw one of them pop a nerve pill.

It was no shock to me when my husband came home the other day and said he had to get Maggie out of the carrier and put her in her cat cage. She hissed and arched her old lady back in her kitty cat protest. So I knew when I went to pick her up today that the news would not be good.

The lady at the front desk showed me Maggie's chart. These were the entries-

"Hissed."

"Not happy."

"Caution."

"VERY MAD."

"Ask owner to take her out and put her in her carrier."

Not what a mother wants to hear when she walks in the Principal's office. I apologized profusely. The sweet staff member reassured me that there were many cats just like Maggie. In fact, she owns one of them.

She said,"The last time my cat was here, the last entry in her record was 'Spawn of Satan."

This is supposed to make me feel better?

I went back and got Maggie out of her cage. As soon as she heard my voice, she meowed her pitiful "meow" and climbed right into her own little carrier. The kennel technician was in awe.

Some people are frightened by the sight of a white doctor's coat or a nurse's uniform. My cat is terrified of colorful scrub tops decorated with happy kittens and puppies.

Sweet. Mercy.

Sweetness in a onesie. That about sums it up.

If she were a cute pair of shoes, I'd ask the clerk to wrap them up so I could take them home with me.

We just returned from our first visit with our niece. She is a sweetheart. I could sit and hold her for hours as long as someone could bring me a Diet Coke now and then and hand me the remote so we could watch HGTV together.

"Look, Molly, at what you can do to a room with only one day and $500!"

Well, maybe when she gets a little older and can, you know, hold her head up.

Seriously, it was a wonderful visit. My daughter met her cousin for the very first time. She had been anxiously awaiting the day she could see and hold her. Watching my little girl hold her tiny cousin and gently rub her sweet, baby head was just precious.

Just. Precious.

"World's Best Aunt"

Go ahead and make me a t-shirt, Brenda.

I'm just sayin.' LOL

I'll be gone for a few days, internets, because I am going to see my sweet niece, Molly before she grows up and goes off to college.

There's going to be a lot of "Ain't she precious?" and "Gimme sugar."

That child just has no idea.

One day, years from now, she'll be tugging her mama's skirt saying,"Mommy, is that the crazy aunt who drools all over me and pinches my cheeks?"

"Yep. She's the one."

;>)

In America

I was in the home improvement store today picking up the usual "just moved in" stuff like duct tape, and I saw The Spool.

Remember The Spool?

When we were in college, we would have died to have The Spool in our apartment. It's a coffee table. It's a kitchen table. It's a foot stool.

It's trash.

But we didn't care. It was cool and it was free.

When I saw The Spool, I thought about college and how Mama and I shopped Dollar General for inexpensive kitchen items, discounted towels and sheets, and blue and mauve home accents. Hey, it was the end of the 80's. I took what I could get.

I remember graduating from college and making more than minimum wage. I thought I was rich! I could even purchase furniture on credit and make monthly payments "same as cash." I bought Lean Cuisines instead of the 99 cents entrees and, get this- I actually drank real Diet Coke, instead of the off brand stuff!

I KNOW! I was a regular Krystle Carrington.

So I was thinking today about how a person in this great country of mine can really dream anything, do anything, be anything. It's in America that a person can start out with The Spool and end up in a home improvement store looking for duct tape to hook up his dryer vent.

It's in America that a person can own a piece of land, cultivate its rich soil, and sow corn, or oranges, or Christmas trees, and reap the benefits of the long, hot days in the field.

In America, you can come from a family who can't even read and end up teaching literature at a university.

It's in America, that a woman can be Speaker of the House, Secretary of State, The President, or a Stay At Home Mom if she just puts her mind to it.

In America, a person can work hard all of his life, lose everything he owns to a storm or a fire, and still have help from his neighbors, his friends, his church, and sometimes, his government.

Then start all over again.

And still succeed.

In America.

All you have to do is dream.

*I'm going for nostalgia mixed with a little patriotism. Democracy breeds dreams no matter where you live. ;>)

What's in your car?

It's like that credit card commercial, only it's a meme I'm making up and it doesn't involve medieval torture.

Or maybe it does.

I was thinking today that I should post what's in my car. We've done "What's in my purse?," but let's face it, ladies. Posting the contents of your car is far more entertaining and quite frightening. Right now, I could pass for Granny Clampett with all the oddities in my car.

If you decide to join in, leave a comment. Remember to include what's in the trunk or the back of your van.

I'll go first.

Ahem.

-Empty Diet Coke bottles that make my husband nuts.

-chewed gum by a little girl, wrapped carefully in some sort of paper so as to prevent the dreaded sticking to the seat syndrome

-Sonic refuse

-melted crayon

-cleaning supplies

-box

-CD's (BORING!)

-bills

-suitcase

-umbrella

-maps

-old glasses in case I break the ones I'm wearing and still need to drive

-flip flops

-one sock



I dare think what else would fit in there. :-)

Silliness Abounds

'kay, this post was a spoof. Just my take on all the mortgage rate hype.



This post? Um. I totally picked the round M&M on purpose. They didn't have a thin, model-type option. Tee hee.



I promise to write something that doesn't concern cardboard or heavy lifting very soon.



;>)

Become an M & M

I saw this over at Linda's and it looked like fun. Visit www.becomeanmm.com and try it out.

Here is what I would look like if I were chocolaty and cute.

Amazing Mortgage Rates!

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Some say we do it out of the goodness of our hearts, but no. We do it for the closing costs.

For just $50,000, an arm, a leg and your first born, you can lock in a great rate today!!!

Call us and make your nightmares come true!

Coming up for air.

So, does anybody need any boxes?

We are in our new house. My feet hurt. I'm tired of tape. And cardboard. But, I am so thankful and happy that we are finally moved in! There are a few things left back at the other house, but for the most part, we are settling in nicely.

And I do not wish to do this again any time soon.

Ahem.

I did have to post a quick note to let y'all know that I am indeed ALIVE while not kickin'.

Here are a few things that could be overheard at our house over the last few days-

"Mommy, where's Fluffy?"

"Who's Fluffy?"

"Are you sure you want to keep this?"

"Mommy, can I help?"

"Mommy, I'm bored."

"Mommy."

"Hey, Mommy."

"Daddy, can I help?

"Daddy, I'm bored."

"Daddy."

"Hey, Daddy."

"Maggie, I'm bored..."

While on the phone with Memama...

"I haven't had lunch. I had breakfast... chips. Uh-huh. She got me a hot dog and it was the worst hot dog I have ever had in MY LIFE!"

;>)

Remembering Our Fallen Heroes

These are the times that try men's souls.

The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will,

in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country;

but he that stands by it now, deserves the love

and thanks of man and woman.

Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered;

yet we have this consolation with us,

that the harder the conflict,

the more glorious the triumph.

What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly:

it is dearness only that gives every thing its value.

Heaven knows how to put a proper price upon its goods;

and it would be strange indeed

if so celestial an article as freedom should not be highly rated.

-Thomas Paine

At Memorial Day and always, I am thankful for those who gave their lives so that I could could live in this great country called America. Thank you to the soldiers who continue to fight and stand ready to protect my freedom. It is because of them that my child can sleep peacefully tonight.

God Bless you all.

Dude, where's my paint swatch?

When you're a kid, part of the excitement of moving to a new place is picking out your new room. My daughter knew immediately which one of the extra bedrooms she wanted to be hers as soon as we walked in the house. Granted, we had not even decided to buy the house yet, but she was bound and determined that she had found her new room. I can't blame her, the windows from that room open up to a wonderful view.

As it turns out, we did settle on that house and so when we went back the other day for the final walk through, she turned to me and said,"Come on, Mommy! Let's go see my new room!"

I have always loved moving into an empty house. It's like a blank canvas ready for us to add our family's personal touches. Whether you love contemporary, country what-nots, or something somewhere in between, personal style adds so much charm and warmth to a home.

Not to mention paint choices.

Long before we even looked at this house, my daughter had selected the new color for her bedrooms walls. Her bedding has a Hawaiian print and the color choices for wall paint are abundant. I told her that she could pick the color of her room this time and she was so excited.

Being the Mom, I was thinking a girly pink or a cool blue. I should have known that a daughter of mine would know, without a doubt, exactly what color she would want. Right down to the hue or shade or whatever Nancy would tell me was the proper term.

We often drive across a bridge where the water underneath is many shades of blues and greens. As we drove across the bridge every morning to school and every afternoon after school, my daughter would point and say, "There it is, Mommy! THAT COLOR! I WANT THAT COLOR!"

Clearly, I should KNOW what color she was pointing to while I am driving and trying to look through those little rungs of concrete on the side rail. I mean, it wasn't like there were, oh about 50 shades of blue, green, blue-green, green-blue, greenish- bluish, bluish- greenish, and even a touch of grey in that vast mass of water.

I mean, it was SO OBVIOUS!

I decided that I would come clean and admit that I had absolutely no idea what color she was talking about. We went to Lowe's to look at paint choices and we took her pillow sham with us. We were standing there in front of The Wall of paint cards made of colorful squares that never, ever look like the same color when you get them home. I think paint stores must have trick lighting so that you will confidently buy an entire gallon of paint that is the perfect color, only to go home, paint it on the wall, and absolutely hate it.

And return to Lowe's to buy another gallon of paint of an entirely different color.

It's a conspiracy, really.

So we were there at The Wall and I asked her which color was the color she wanted.

"It isn't here, Mommy. They don't have it."

"You mean that out of ALL these color choices of ALL these paint brands none of these colors are the color you want for your room?"

"No."

In a pitiful attempt to find SOMETHING, I began to randomly pull color cards from The Wall.

"How about this color?"

"No. That's not it."

"Well, how about this one?"

"No. They don't have it."

She had just about given up. Then she pulled a little pamphlet from the display.

She opened it up, then with wide eyes, she pointed to a teeny, tiny square of a lovely, light green and said,"THAT'S IT! THAT'S THE COLOR!"

I was so glad I took her with me to choose the color. Otherwise, we would be right back at Lowe's buying a second gallon of paint.

Some may say she was being a little too picky, but I love a girl who knows what she wants.

:>)

I'll take that midnight train, please.

What do Jerry Springer and Bette Midler have in common?

They were both on American Idol tonight.

What a night. Talk about diversity of musical genre.

Congratulations, Jordin! I hope you make your mama proud. May you set a new standard and example for the young, female musical artists. You have the chance to make a difference for young girls across the US by setting a good example of modesty and integrity.

Random Epiphanies

1. I was giddy, just giddy as a school girl when my husband walked in the door this evening with loads and loads of good, clean, stain-free boxes from the grocery store. I realized that when you get more excited about the boxes than your hubs, you've been married a loooonnngg time.

2. I felt sorry for Blake on AI tonight. The new song just didn't fit his voice. Jordin is going to win. I still miss Melinda.

I'm feeling real emotion for complete strangers! This is too much. Can you say "AI Addict?"

3. I was packing my daughter's stuffed animals and I am fairly certain they have been breeding in her room.

4. I'm actually looking forward to cleaning my new house. I think I've inhaled too much cardboard dust.

5. I don't understand how a show about people getting tattoos made it on the air. Can you imagine the pitch, "We want to show people paying other people to be tortured. When it's all over, they will leave in tears and have a deeper understanding of life and a very sore arm."

6. Having to look for boxes and busily packing is a wonderful blessing. There are many people tonight who have nowhere to lay their head. I certainly do not deserve it, but I am very thankful to be moving into a home we can call our own. I pray that I never take any gift He has given for granted and that I will always share what He has given with others.

Have a good evening!

It's only garbage if you aren't moving.

I'm seriously considering changing my blog to "I Lost My Coffee" or "I really should be packing."

We are starting our move in a few days and a moment in the blogosphere is like a day at the spa for me. So, thanks to all of you in my blogroll you have updated your posts.

I don't mind packing. Really. I just don't care for begging for boxes. OK. I hate it. If I could go to just one place and get all the cardboard refuse I need, then it would be fine. But, dumspter diving is not a skill to which I aspire.

Thanks to all of the treehuggers, now you can be selective about your dumpster diving. It's about options, people. There are "cardboard only," "Keep doors closed," and my personal favorite, "This stinks to high heaven. How desperate are you?" (I made that one up.)

Lucky for me, the kind folks at Dollar General offered some of their boxes right off the sales floor. Bless their hearts.

I went back to DG for a few more boxes yesterday and the boxes had already been thrown away in the clean and neat "cardboard only" dumpster. The sweet young clerk generously offered me an invitation to dig through the dumpster and then gave me some very important advice, "Just don't go back there after dark."

Thanks for the tip.

;>)

A Mall Meme

I saw this meme over at Clemntine's place and since I am brain dead from inhaling all of the cardboard dust from this little thing we call "moving and makin' mama crazy" I am thankful for a meme.

I'm just sayin.'

Here are the rules-

You get to create your own Mall. Choose 6 stores that would definitely be included in your ideal one stop mall. Then as a bonus you can pick your favorite restaurant and fast food eatery to be located there, too. After you’ve created it, post it and tag some bloggers to join in the fun.


Melanie's Malleria


1. Target- Target in a mall? Yes! Discover the glory of it all.

2. Dollar Tree- A really good one. Not a lame one. The place has to be full to the ceiling with cheaply made goods that I must have for only one buck.

3. Macy's- Hey, I'm cheap, but I still have taste. I like their home furnishings department.

4. A cute little gift shop that has everything for every birthday gift, baby gift, and just plain I gotta have it item. Includes a sweet Southern lady who calls me darlin' and offers to wrap nearly everything I purchase for free. She has a dog in the back that stays there with her all day to keep her comp'ny.

5. A Christian book, music and gift store. With a coffee shop inside.

6. A fun toy store where my daughter and I can splurge on more stuffed animals that will collect dust. :>)


Restaurant- A small town eatery where everyone recognizes me and they are all related to the lady at the gift shop. The menu offers daily specials and the tables always have nice tablecloths and fresh flowers.

Fast food- Chick-fil-A, yum

If you decide to do this meme, leave a note in the comments! Have fun.

My niece, the philospher.

I love being a mom. It is so much fun- playing, crafting, stealing kisses and hugs. So far, being an aunt to Miss Molly has its little rewards, too. We'll get to craft and play (when she can, you know, hold her head up) and I don't have to deal with messy diapers on a daily basis.

Not to mention the stories. Oh, the stories have already begun.

T and C (Molly's parents, not a rap band) were out shopping for a family vehicle. Like most of us, they never envisioned themselves riding around town in a sedan or a station wagon. Like most of us before we had kids, we said we would never be caught dead in a van.

Then we learned that a Corvette convertible doesn't hold a lot of baby stuff, i.e- stroller, pack and play, bottles, clean diapers, dirty diapers. Plus, the kid has to ride somewhere.

So T and C have started looking for a safe and affordable van for the growing family. Last weekend they visited a local dealer. They aren't amateurs at car buying. No, M'am. They had done their research and knew exactly what price range their van of choice should fall in.

Then they met that guy, Mr." starched white shirt and khakis" guy. Mr. "I have only 2 ties and the other one is in the bottom of the hamper" guy. Mr. "Am I wearing enough after shave for ya?" guy.

That guy. The used car salesman.

T and C found a van they really liked. The salesman tried to trick them into an overinflated sale price saying, "With this much down, at this percent interest, this would be your payment."

T kept saying,"Just give me the bottom line. What is the total price?"

The salesman danced around the question, answering, "This would be your payment."

T kept asking.

The salesman kept dancing.

They knew he was trying to trick them into a huge price because they could, you know, add. Plus they didn't even need to finance. That guy just wouldn't listen.

C was sitting in the passenger's front seat with the salesman in the driver's seat. The salesman kept spouting out lies. T was in the back seat feeding Molly when Molly let out a sound from inside her diaper that told that car salesman exactly what she thought.

C calmly turned to the salesman and said,"She said what you are saying is a bunch of cr*p."

The salesman answered,"That's not what she said."

Like any good parents would do, they took the advice,if you will, of their infant daughter over that guy because she's got more brains than he does.

And more gas.

They say it's her birthday...

Today is my dear friend Lucy's birthday. Her name isn't really Lucy, but somehow a few years ago I told her that we were Lucy and Ethel. I was Ethel (not Cousin Ethel.)

Let me tell you a few things about Lucy...

She is an awesome mom. She is totally devoted to her daughter and takes parenting very seriously.

She loves her family.

She is a caretaker and a nurturer.

She has sacrificed so much (willingly) for people in her life. She is a giver.

She loves, loves, loves a good cup of coffee.

She is very organized. She knows how many monkeys are in her kids' barrel of monkeys. (Something I cannot relate to. :>))

She is a talented singer, actress and musician.

She is crafty.

She's smart.

She loves red lipstick. (a girl after my own heart!)

She loves good food and she isn't afraid to "eat like a real woman." (No nibbles for us! We can put down some groceries!)

She is an awesome cook and hostess.

She loves animals and once took in a mama cat and kittens, and then took them with her during a hurricane evacuation. With her child, her two dogs, cat, and two turtles. Yes, m'am. She did.

She is my sister in Christ and I love her.

Happy Birthday, Lucy. You got some 'xplainin to dooooo.

Click here to enjoy one of the best scenes with Lucy and Ethel!!

Finally, some real writing talent in the family.

My daughter asked to put something on my blog. This is her latest favorite story. Her teacher asked the class to write about a "shy purple pig."

THE SHY PURPLE PIG

Once their was a planet called purple planet. Evrything was purple. Egsept for the people and the animals! But Shy purple pig happened to be purple. One day purple pig overheard the Farmer talking to a detectives’ boss about him. O.K.,Il’ take Him. Shy purple pig, Welcome to the detective life. I need you to go out there and be a detective. So he did.
THE END

This post could save your life, or just make you want a doughnut.

According to a recent news article, people in the South are more likely to have a stroke than folks in other regions of the US.

Go figure.

The article goes on to say (I shall paraphrase a bit) we Southerners are having strokes left and right because we are fat, lazy, uneducated, are smoking like chimney stacks and running up our blood sugar with all of those Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

Now I know I might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but don't insult my blood glucose levels. ;>)

Call it a hunch, but I'm thinking this high incidence of stroke may be related to all the meat we eat. You know, the meat that has been cooked in fat (which came from some other meat source). Never mind that we boil all of the nutrients out of our vegetables and season them with more meat (or just fat.) Even our bread has Crisco in it.

Rumor has it that somebody in Stark, Mississippi came up with a butter flavored ice cream.

OK. That last sentence? I made it up. Everybody knows that people from Mississippi don't eat butter flavored anything. They eat butter, not butter substitutes.

I do not mean to make light of the serious, life-threatening, debilitating medical condition known as stroke. Just consider this my silly attempt to get your attention. A healthy diet, exercise, and regular check-ups with your doctor are key to stroke prevention.

You should also know what to do if you or someone you love experiences a stroke. Time lost is brain lost.

So while you're sitting there at your computer eating your buttered biscuit and fried chicken, take a moment to read the warning signs of a stroke.

The information could save a life. That life could be yours.

Love-Me-Knots. Check it out!

Bows, bows, bows.

They've got your precious bows, here.

Bows. Who wants bows?

Have you visited Love-Me-Knots? Mommy Dearest and her friend Melissa have launched an awesome website where you can purchase handcrafted bows for your sweet girl or grand girl. You'll love the gorgeous ribbons for those curls and you'll love knowing you've helped two great stay at home moms.

SO, check it out! You'll be glad you did.

See you soon, Melinda

I can't believe Melinda was voted off.

Maybe it is all a blessing in disguise? Without the AI title, Melinda can have a little more creative freedom and really make her music all her own. Can I just say that I really have admired that she has dressed and acted appropriately on stage? She managed to be stylish without being immodest.

Looking forward to the CD, Melinda!

YOU ARE W-O-M-A-N!!

Random blips in my brain

Updated to add: Your comments are proof that you guys are quite the intuitive ones, too! Lovin' your comments. Fun. Thanks.

It's really frightening, the things I think about throughout the day. Other people are spending time planning healthy meals for their families, saving the planet or discovering cures for cancer. I'm just trying to make sure my clothes match.

Consider these my deep thoughts for the day. (Scary.)


1. While I was watching one of those commode (Mommy Dearest, I didn't say "toilet." Wink Wink) cleaner commercials, I kept noticing how much they claimed that the product killed germs. They even get all mathematical about it and use a decimal point- "99.9 % of harmful bacteria."

I like a sparkling bowl, if you will, but has it ever occurred to anyone what is going to go in there after we have disinfected it? Ahem.

I'm thinking 100% harmful bacteria.

So, let's do a good job cleaning the commode and focus more attention on the bathroom sink.

Just a thought.

2. Has anyone noticed that the Geico gecko has a different British dialect? Did they think we wouldn't notice? It's like when they replaced Darrin Stephens with a new Darrin on Bewitched. They tried to switch them on the sly; the actors even had the same first name.

I want to know. What happened to the first gecko? Did they fail to renew his contract or did he meet a tragic ending, one where his tail didn't grow back?

3. I think the actress who plays Meredith on Grey's Anatomy needs a new hairdo.

4. I think Jennifer Anniston's face is getting longer.

5. I think Cracker Barrel is a weird name for a restaurant that doesn't sell crackers. Or barrels.

And who is the old man sitting next to the barrel in the logo?

6. I don't understand why it is OK to drink coffee and listen to Diana Krall in Barnes and Noble but it is not OK to have a snack and whisper in the public library.

I'm just sayin.'

7. I realized today that I have become a connoisseur of chicken nuggets. They could feature me on Food Network.

Or not.

There's an iPod in the henhouse.

I've been buying more organic foods. We have switched to organic milk, eggs, and some meats. The organic meats are a little more difficult to find.

The switch isn't just for hubs and me, but for our daughter. Years from now folks may say organic was much ado about nothing but for now, I am not sure the added hormones are safe. (The organic milk actually tastes better! Seriously!)

I don't mind a little pesticide sprinkled on my fruits and veggies. I figure that I can wash those off. OK. Truth is, I'm cheap. We may go totally organic with that food group, too. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. Maybe when the prices go down...

Yesterday, while at Publix, I found a new (for me) brand of organic eggs- The Country Hen. I read the package late last night while making cupcakes and had to chuckle. These cage free hens are living the life in "sunlit barns and porches."

I am soooo glad I found The Country Hen. I just hate those snooty city hens strutting down Madison Avenue in their big Prada sunglasses with their blackberries and MP3 players. Don't you?

;>)

The last 24 hours in a nutshell.

1. Drove to my parents' house for a short, but sweet Mother's Day visit.

2. Saw a Piggly Wiggly, a small town square, tall pines, short bridges over "branches" (instead of "creeks"), brown thrashers, mockingbirds, cows, horses, and one mama deer and baby standing on the side of the road.

3. Smelled the aroma of speckled butter beans pressure cooking on the stove, jasmine on the vine, and smoke that had traveled for miles from the Georgia Fires still burning.

4. Heard a little girl giggle with her PaPa.

5. Tasted way too many speckled butter beans, some pork roast, a Hardee's breakfast biscuit, homemade hamburgers and pound cake. (It's a good thing I was only there for one night!)

6. Enjoyed the sweetness of being a mother and a daughter all at the same time.

And did I mention the butter beans?

Remember the mothers of Virginia Tech

Please pray for the mothers of those precious young students who lost their lives at Virginia Tech.

This will certainly be a difficult Mother's Day for all of them.

Our prayers are with you all.

You're A Gem, Girlfriend

Your husband trusts you with the checkbook, the car, and the kids.
You promise not to nag him
as you pick up his socks for the rest of your life.

You seek wrinkle-free, stain-resistant fabrics
and use a "warm iron as needed."

You are like the UPS truck bringing goods from afar,
buying ground beef on sale at Winn Dixie and organic milk from Publix.

You can smell a deal at Target from a mile a away.

You are still up at midnight making lunches for your kids
and you remember to cut the sandwiches in little triangles instead of squares.

You considered a field, but settled on a Mary Kay home business,
and with the sale of lipsticks and nail polish, you help pay the mortgage.

You go to the gym for aerobics class once a week,
or at least do weight training- lifting toys off the floor.

You help your neighbors, buy Girl Scout cookies and
volunteer many hours to the PTA.

You take your children to Sunday School and teach them about Jesus.

You make your best potato salad for all the church suppers
and you always take a cake to someone after a death in the family.

You are not afraid of anything (except maybe spiders)
as you care for your family with strength and courage.

You can't sew a stitch
but you sure know how to dress for less.

You always try to say a kind word
or say nothing at all.

You take care of your husband and children each day
without concern for yourself.

You are a Mother.

This Mother's Day, may your children call you blessed
or at least, you know, call you.

May your husband also praise you,
or just compliment you on your cooking.

Happy Mother's Day!

Pat, I'd like to buy a 4 bedroom, 2.5 bath traditional with equity.

We could be the next Reality Show. Combine Designed to Sell, Buy Me, and Wheel of Fortune. Add a dash of Roseanne and Claire Huxtable and you've got yourself a hit.

We may even make into syndication, people.

Y'all know we have been house hunting. We've also been trying to sell a home. We have found a house we adore and are in the process of dotting all the i's and crossing all the t's and making sure the dollar signs have two slashes instead of just one and that termites aren't overtaking the subflooring. Meanwhile, we are in the middle of negotiations with a potential buyer and playing the "I'll counter that offer Game." You know, it's been like a trip to the spa. Only the lady doing the pedicure? It's her first day. And she has big sheep shears for nail clippers, she's nearsighted and in a VERY BAD MOOD.

I'm just sayin'. Buying a home while selling a home? It's a blast.

I am not much for bartering and negotiation. I always hate that part. I don't see why they just can't sell homes the same way they sell shoes. I mean, can you picture me going in Belk and saying, "Excuse me, M'am. I see these sandals are marked for $49.99. Could you sell them to me for only $24.99 and throw in a matching bag?"

They'd think I was nuts.

Most of the time, I feel like I'm on a game show and I just keep spinning the wheel, crossing my unmanicured fingers (since the nail lady scared me from the pedicure), watching the wheel slowly, slowly come to a stop and praying, just praying that little clippy thing doesn't pop over to "Bankrupt" or "Lose A Turn."

I would love a Free Spin at this point.

I know that God is in control and we do pray that we make decisions that will honor Him. It is His money after all. I just hope I don't end up having to pick some cheesy prizes, like a tacky dog statue or a velvet dolphin painting for my new family room.

Or solve a puzzle like this one-

Hey, Vanna, give me a nerve pill.

Seven strange things about me that aren't in my purse.

Military Mommy is soooo patient. She tagged me for the purse meme a while ago. My digital camera is being temperamental, so now I just give up. I am going to post without the picture. You guys are brilliant and I have complete confidence that you can picture all of the lint and loose change in the bottom of the bag.

I have a few purses, not many. I usually only change them with the seasons. I have a few for summer, but the one I keep going back to is my favorite. It is a black and white toile fabric tote with some cute black fringe. It really can go with summer or winter. I bought it a craft fair from a wonderfully talented lady. It's a gem.

If you ask my husband, he'll tell you that you can't find a thing in my purse, but "OH CONTRAIRE!" I can find the following items:

My red wallet (easy to find in any bag)
Pens
Old receipts that I don't need until I throw them away
Lipstick
Compact
Medicines
Neosporin
An unsharpened pencil that reads "I survived the test"

If and when my camera takes its Prozac and changes moods, I'll take a picture for y'all.



His Singer tagged me for this Meme-
Seven Things You Never Knew About Me and Were Smart Enough Not to Ask

Maybe it wasn't exactly worded like that. ;>)

1. I don't like to eat out by myself. I would rather go through the drive thru and eat in the car, or just take it home. I realize this is odd.

2. I once caught a shark. (small one, about 3 feet long)

3. I love to smell play dough.

4. When we first married, we bought our first washer and dryer. The dryer wasn't drying well and I told my husband about it. He said, "Did you empty the lint filter?"

I said, "The what?"

Mama's dryer had the lint filter in the door. Our dryer had a lint filter on top. Since our dryer didn't have one in the door, I assumed it simply didn't have one at all. Go ahead and laugh.

When my husband emptied the lint filter after months of use, the blanket of lint was so large, you could curl up with it on a cold night and stay warm. I don't recommend this method of domestication. Let's say it together, FIRE HAZARD.

5. I still eat Spaghetti-O's.

6. When I was a kid I buried a time capsule in my parents' backyard. I can't remember where I buried it. My husband has tried to find it since we got married. It is driving him crazy.

7. I cried when I went to Gettysburg. So much loss of life in one place. Very sad.

What do fear and apathy have to do with my floors?

This commercial bothers me on so many levels.

Watch it and come back. (It's the commercial for the floor that supposedly withstands anything and involves a scary movie, some much-too-young-to-see-it kids, and a sad little dog.)

This is what upsets me-

Why are the parents letting their kids watch this movie?
The only family member that is frightened by it is the dog.
This shows absolutely no sensitivity.
The poor dog. Oh, if you don't care about the kids, the dog should make you sad.
He has an accident and they just look at him.
No one consoles him.
No one cleans up the mess.

Am I too sensitive?

Comments, please.

Edited to add- You guys don't have to agree with me to leave a comment. I realize I think in black and white sometimes- funny, since my blog has so much grey. :>)

Lessons From The ER

It has been one of those days.

My daughter had a stomach virus and let's just say that it has tested my strong maternal constitution. I won't get into the gross details, but the virus forced us to visit the emergency room.

I love the ER almost as much as I love Newman. I'm torn between the two, really.

This visit was actually pleasant, as pleasant as is possible, considering that your daughter has wretched and heaved and you are both sleep-deprived and there are strange people shuffling around in bath slippers watching a television that for some reason must be suspended from the ceiling.

But I digress.

The nurses were fabulous. The doctor was fabulous. And back to the nurses- one of them had the most delightful accent. It sounded French. I'm not sure, but it was delightful.

My daughter needed IV fluids. (Ouch! She was so brave.) She is a different child now and feeling much better.

To stay in the true ER Visit Tradition, I have to share what I learned today. I'm all about bein' educated.

1. The emergency room is the last place to be if you have a phobia of germs. That little shower curtain is a sad excuse for protection from the unknown on the other side. And we all know what literally lies on the other side.

A very sick person who is either vomitting their lunch or coughing up a lung, or both.

And then they call for the bed pan.

2. If you are lucky, (as we were today) and the person on the other side is not hurling or hacking, they will in fact have one of the following conditions:

A skin infection
Strep throat
A strange insect bite
Back pain (can we say "drug seeking?")

3. All emergency rooms are painted pink, blue or pink and blue. I think it is to calm the patients. Or the staff.

4. When your kid has just finished vomitting for the past 36 hours and you yourself have had nothing decent to eat, the staff will invariably heat up their lunch in the breakroom microwave and the delicious aroma will manage to waft down the hall and cross the shower curtain barrier, reaching you, the starved, sleep-deprived mom.

5. Since you are a mom and nothing that your kid does ever makes you sick, you actually get hungry when you smell the microwaved meal. (Let's face it; you can change a d*aper and eat a peanut butter sandwich.)

6. Bendy straws are a kid's best friend.

7. Sitting by the bedside with a sick child reminds you of all the times your Mama sat with you. You opened your eyes in the soft, quiet darkness and saw her still there. Then you closed your eyes and drifted off to sleep.

8. Motherhood, with all the bodily fluids that come with it, is the best job on Earth.

:>)

Friday Feast

Appetizer: Name something you would not want to own.

A self-help book titled "How To Lose Your Southernness."

Soup: Describe your hair (texture, color, length, etc.).

Thick, foiled with bleach, chin length, and needing to be styled at this moment. Underneath all of the carninogenic glory it is very brown, except for the streaks of grey that keep popping up.

Salad: Finish this sentence:

I’ll never forget my wedding day or the day my daughter was born.




Main Course: Which famous person would you like to be for one day? Why?

Susan B. Anthony. She is one of very few women in history I respect and admire. She was a Christian and an educated woman.

But, if this character was a real person (and not a character) I would like to meet this woman-

"I'm not as sweet as I used to be."

Dessert: Write one sentence about yourself that includes one thing that is true and another thing that is not.

I am a size 4 and I bought my wedding dress for 50% off.

Put a 1 in front of that 4 and it is a true statement.

I paid for my own wedding dress and was so proud! I had been on my own for a few years and wanted to contribute. My parents gave us a very nice and beautiful wedding, of course. (There was no red velvet armadillo cake in the garage.) :>)

Today is For Heather

Is it no coincidence that today is The National Day of Prayer?

Please Pray for Heather

Heather is having surgery tomorrow- brain surgery.

I cannot imagine the awesome strength and faith she must need to go through this. But I can imagine and know the awesome God who will see her through. He loves her and her family more than they could possibly dream.

Let's join together in Christ tomorrow to pray for Heather, the medical team, her husband, and her children.

May God be exalted.

Works For Me: Birthday Cake Delivery

I believe everyone should have a special birthday. Maybe it is because Mama always made mine special. I was a December baby, so Mama tried to make sure my birthday didn't disappear into Christmas.

Anyhoo. Birthdays hold a special place in my heart.

I also believe everyone, no matter how old they are, should have a birthday cake.

If you know someone out of town who lives alone or just doesn't have someone to make a cake for them, you can have one delivered to them! Granted, they aren't as good as homemade, but as they say,"it's the thought that counts."

Here are a few links to check out:

Send A Cake
1-800-Bakery.Com

American Idol: Quote of the Week

"I want the camera to get my slim side." Miss Kiki

You go, girl!

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