One Word Meme

I saw this over at Linda's and it sounded like fun. Although, it is very difficult for me to do anything that involves just ONE word.



1. Where is your cell phone? purse

2. Your significant other? Batman

3. Your hair? Help!

4. Your mother? Honest

5. Your father? Hardworking

6. Your favorite thing? Motherhood

7. Your dream last night? Weird

8. Your favorite drink? Diet Coke (sorry, two words!)

9. Your dream/goal? Newspaper

10. The room you’re in? Living

11. Your church? Welcoming

12. Your fear? Losing #6

13. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Here

14. Where were you last night? Home

15. What you’re not? Risk Taker

16. Muffins? Cupcakes

17. One of your wish list items? Wooden Indian

18. Where you grew up? Georgia

19. The last thing you did? Sip coffee

20. What are you wearing? pajamas

21. Your TV? cartoon

22. Your pets? Odd

23. Your computer? Lap

24. Your life? Good

25. Your mood? Changes

26. Missing someone? Grandmother

27. Your car? Blue

28. Something you’re not wearing? Shoes

29. Favorite store? Target

30. Your summer? Short

31. Like(love) someone? My Batman

32. Your favorite color? pink

33. Last time you laughed? reading

34. Last time you cried? dinner

35. Who will repost this? Roxanne??

Independence

It has become a bit of a blog tradition here to post on Independence Day. I've shared my thoughts on sparklers and how grateful I am for those fighting for freedom.

Well, this year, I thought I'd just preach.

Oh, I'm kidding. There's no way I could pass the collection plate over the Internet.

I listen to talk radio a lot. I read a lot. I try to stay informed. This is an election year. It's my civic duty to stay informed.

Everyone on television, radio, and the Internet seems to fall into one of two groups. I know what you're thinking. Democrat or Republican? Liberal or Conservative?

Nope. The Whiny and The Guilty.

The Whiny believe they do not have enough and they want more. The Guilty believe they have too much and they feel just awful about it.

A small minority in America, The Whiny and The Guilty get the most exposure on television, radio and the Internet.

So, what about the rest of us?

You could call us the silent majority. We are, I believe, the heart of America. We are neither whiny nor guilty.

We're frustrated about gas prices and rising costs of food and we are trying to make the best of it.

We would love for Downtown to be revived, but we're glad Wal-Mart helps make our family budget stretch a little more.

When times are hard, instead of blaming ourselves or others, we hunker down and help ourselves and others.

We understand the blessings that America has received. We don't take those blessings for granted. In fact, we are grateful. We want to responsibly share those blessings with others in our own country and abroad.

We believe that this country is still a great nation, yet we understand there is always room for improvement.

We wave flags at parades. We eat apple pie and watermelon and buy Old Navy t-shirts for the 4th of July.

We get discouraged about politicians but we still believe in The Constitution.

We go to church or at least respect another person's freedom to do so. We say,"Merry Christmas" as we place our donation in The Salvation Army's red kettle.

We're just everyday folks. We don't get any air time, but we're still here paying our taxes, saving for retirement, and helping our neighbors.

This 4th of July, we might spend a little extra money on sparklers for our kids. You might see us grilling hot dogs and hamburgers with our friends. We'll go all out to celebrate our freedom and we won't feel guilty about it.

Most importantly, we'll remember the ones and The One who made us free.

This 4th of July, we'll stay home to celebrate. We're watching the prices at the pump. Chances are, we're buying our apple pie and watermelon at Wal-mart, and our Old Navy t-shirts were on sale.

We aren't complaining. We're just taking care of ourselves and our families while celebrating the many opportunities that make it possible.

Hey, it's Independence Day.

In a word: Exciting

A few years ago I started reading BooMama. My friend Nancy directed me to her blog and from the first paragraph I was hooked. She's Southern. She's funny. She's real.

I started to blog myself and soon I found Big Mama. Having a daughter of my own, Big Mama's stories about Caroline made me laugh and cry all at the same time. Plus, she is from Texas and has great hair. What's not to love?

These ladies are two of a group of bloggers I read each and every day. Now they have got some seriously exciting stuff going on. Both of them are now contributors for the LifeWay blog called All Access.

Did you read that?

LIFEWAY.

If you are Baptist or have ever driven past a Baptist church, you may have heard of it. LifeWay is the primary publisher for about 99.9% of the material in many Baptist and other churches.

Well.

Last weekend BooMama and Big Mama attended Deeper Still in Atlanta to blog for All Access.

DEEPER STILL which translates to Beth Moore, Priscilla Shirer, and Kay Arthur.

Can it get any more exciting?

Yes, it can. You can head over to All Access this week and read BooMama's and Big Mama's posts on their Deeper Still experience. I promise you will not be disappointed.

Go ahead and mark it in your favorites while you are there because you'll want to keep reading every day about how God is moving in a powerful way in the lives of women across this country.

Thanks, Sophie and Melanie (BooMama and Big Mama respectively) for sharing your testimonies and yourselves with us.

May God use you both in a mighty way in the blogosphere!

Works For Me: Five Ingredients Recipe Edition

Crock Pot Stir Fry Beef Strips with Mushrooms and Peppers

1 (1-pound) top round steak, trimmed
1 (16 oz.) package frozen pepper stir fry mix
1 can condensed beefy mushroom or golden mushroom soup, undiluted
1 (8 oz.) package sliced fresh mushrooms
1 (1 ox.) envelope onion soup mix

Slice steak diagonally across the grain into thin strips. Combine steak, frozen stir-fry mix, soup, mushrooms, and soup mix in a 3 1/2 or 4 quart slow cooker. Mix well. Cover and cook on HIGH 3-4 hours or on LOW 6-7 hours.

Serve over rice. Yields 4 servings. Double for a large family.

I usually do not like frozen peppers but they work well for this recipe. The steak will be very tender and the sauce is yummy!

See Shannon for more great five ingredient recipes!

Bottles

I was telling Hubs the other day about the times I have cried while watching the news. Oddly enough to some, election results have made me sob. I cried watching the tragedy at Waco, the Oklahoma City Bombing, and the OJ verdict.

I cried watching the images of Katrina and the Tsunami of 2004.

You could say I'm a blubbering mess.

But, I also cry at happy things, too...

Like when my daughter was born and I could not believe it was all over. And just beginning.

Or the many, many times in church when God brought me to my knees over the awesomeness of His Love.

Tears are funny. Sometimes the taste of them reminds us of pain, sometimes grief, sometimes joy or laughter.

The Bible tells us that God has kept all of our tears in a bottle. That image is amazing to me. I've always thought that people save things in bottles that are precious to them. I suppose our tears are precious to God, special enough to save and keep, to hold and look at, reminders of our humanness.

I picture rows upon rows of bottles in God's closet, not in the literal sense of course. Rows of different bottles made of different colored glass. Some of them with corks, others caps. All of them are filled with tears. Each tear represents something in our lives that God fully understands. He looks at our tears with complete compassion and love.

Somewhere in the midst of millions of bottles, I imagine a tiny bottle without a cap made of rose-colored glass and filled with tears. One tear is from a broken heart in high school, one from a news broadcast, and the other a birth. The bottle rests on a shelf in a closet and there on its label it reads, "Melanie."

And that just makes me want to cry.

Art Linkletter, eat your heart out.

Today was my last day of teaching Sunday School. It was bittersweet in that I really need the time that I normally use studying and planning to get ready for our move, but I am going to miss the kids.

Pre-K and Kindergarten children require so much energy, yet they are one of the most rewarding groups to teach. One moment a child is throwing paint at you and the next he is giving you a bear hug.

And one more thing. They are hilarious!

I give you some quotes I have heard over the years of teaching 4 and 5-year olds in Sunday School and VBS.



After seeing that my assistant (a woman in her 60's) brought Hershey's Kisses for a treat, a little 4-year old boy said, "Tell the Grandma teacher not to give me chocolate. It gets me jacked up."

While making a collage of what we would serve Jesus for dinner, a little girl turned to me and said, "Sometimes I drink beer."

On Palm Sunday, I wanted to introduce the beginning of the Easter story. I asked the class, "Who can tell me what is important about Easter?"

The Music Minister's daughter, a Bible scholar at the ripe old age of five, raised her hand and said," What is so important about Easter is that when you put the candy in the plastic egg you have to put tape around it or all the candy will fall out."

Guess who helped dad fill Easter eggs for the egg hunt.

While reviewing the story of the Israelites' freedom from Egypt, I asked the kids if they remembered which country they were freed from.

With wide eyes and total confidence, one girl raised her hand and said,"America!"

One year during VBS our Minister of Youth and Education was giving the salvation message on each age group's level. He was a little nervous talking to the preschoolers and a friend shared some blocks with him to use as an object lesson. (By the way, he had no need to be nervous. He is awesome!)

He went through each of the ABC's of salvation on their level, just to plant the seed in the children's hearts. He used the blocks for each letter.

A- Admit
B- Believe
C- Confess

He didn't notice that there was a picture below each letter on the blocks. (You know where this is going.)

When he finished the message, he asked all of the preschoolers, "What does 'A' stand for?"

They all yelled, "Apple!"

I am so glad that salvation does not involve a ball or a cat. Aren't you?

Is this what it's like for the other moms?

This week we are having VBS at our church. Other years I have volunteered by decorating, teaching, directing, floating, or otherwise being sucked into the volunteer vortex.

This year I was on the Decorating Committee. That's it.

Crickets chirping.

Aside from the planning meetings, the hours painting waves and the ELEVEN hours of decorating in which we did not even get finished and I had to leave my good friend Stephanie with the rest of the decorating because I was attending a wedding (insert guilt here), I've pretty much had nothing to do this year in VBS.

We missed Monday because we were coming off of a travel-induced coma and Mama needed her sleep. So, Tuesday was my daughter's first day. I walked her in, stayed for worship rally and then after only 30 minutes I walked out.

Y'all just don't know. It was weird.

Stephanie did the same and as we walked to the parking lot, we turned to each other and said,"This feels strange."

I said, "I kinda feel like..."

"A heathen," she finished.

"Well," I said," I was going to say slacker, but heathen may be the better word."

Not to say that all of the other mothers who just drive their kids to Bible School and drop them off are heathens. No, not at all. I'm just sayin' that, for me, it was very strange.

Nice, but strange.

So today I stood with Stephanie and helped welcome the kids to just help out. You know, I am completely comfortable with not being there all day, every day. I have no problem just decorating and painting waves and building rock walls out of PVC pipe and paper. I have no issue with that at all.

Ahem.

In fact, I just might go to Target or Wal-mart tomorrow.

Right after I repent and turn from my slacker, heathen, non-volunteer ways.

Seriously, it's a good thing I'm saved by grace alone because our PVC pipe and paper rock wall ended up looking a lot like Snuffleupagus.

;>)

Works For Me: Easy Ice Packs

I recently learned this tip from a nurse.

For an easy ice pack which will stay cold longer, fill a Ziploc bag with green Palmolive Original dish washing liquid. (I double bagged mine.) Place in the freezer. The Palmolive forms an icy gel and stays cold longer than ice. It molds easily to the area needing an ice pack.

Quick and inexpensive!

Updated to answer your questions.

1. Fill any size Ziploc or Hefty bag (I like the one with the one zip) with the Palmolive. Fill until almost full, making sure you can still close it.

2. Place that closed bag inside another bag of the same size. This will double bag it for any leaks.

3. Place in the freezer flat. This helps mold the ice pack.

4. You can refreeze it as needed. The bag will show signs of wear first. So if you want it to last longer, use a really good bag- like freezer strength. I am not sure of how long it will last compared to other ice packs.

What is great is that it is easy, uses items on hand, and it stays cold longer.

5. Some of you mentioned that you were glad you could use it with kids. Just remember that it is dish washing liquid and still toxic, although it is easier on clothes.

For more tips, see Shannon.

I'm gonna threaten her with an ankle bracelet, complete with flea repellant.

With every trip we take there is the dreaded drive to the kennel where I have to bail Maggie out of jail. At least that's how she sees it.

When my daughter and I walked in the kennel's office, the sweet lady at the desk asked if she could help us.

How much time do you have?

I told her I needed to pick up Maggie and she pulled the chart. I peered over the counter to read the notes and this is what I saw-

"Very, very angry."


"Not a happy cat today."


"Aggressive."


"Ask owner to get out of cage."

Sigh.

The lady at the desk attempted to comfort me and said,"Don't be alarmed. Many cats are upset to be here. I'm sure she is Okay."

Um, she must be new.

"Oh, I'm not alarmed. She acts like this every single time she comes, only it gets worse. I don't know what her problem is. She used to love the kennel and the attention. Then one day she became an old lady and turned into cranky pants," I explained.

She walked us back to the cat room. It was lunch time and two of the kennel techs, bless their animal loving hearts, were playing solitaire on the computer.

They recognized me as the mother of Maggie, the cat who forces them to register for night classes in cosmetology and happily said,"OH, here comes MAMA!"

I entered the cat room, prepared for Attitude.

Instead, Maggie heard my voice and began to meow- instead of hiss like a venomous viper- as I made my way to her cell, I mean cage.

I put her in her carrier and said to the kennel techs, "Bye-bye, very brave ladies."

"Oh, we're not that brave," they said with a chuckle.

Then I hauled Miss Congeniality out of prison and off to her very cushy life on parole. Martha Stewart never had it so good.

Places

Over fourteen years ago, a handsome young man waited at the end of an aisle for a young woman, joyous in her naivety, nervous in her ineptitude and sincere in her love for the one who waited.

The two of them smiled wide when their eyes first caught sight of one another. Although friends and family filled the room, the sanctuary felt empty, quiet, peaceful. The musicians played the chosen hymns but the bride and groom heard nothing but the soft spoken words of each other.

The handsome man offered his arm to the young woman as she gently wrapped her hand around his arm. She still remembers the feeling of his strong arm beneath his dress uniform on her fingers.

The mothers had been seated, as were the grandmothers. Friends were ushered to their seats. Bridesmaids had walked down the same aisle, flowers in hand. A flower girl, with a hand full of blossoms, made her way to her place. Groomsmen stood with hands clasped...

Saturday evening my daughter and I entered a small chapel tucked beneath a Tennessee sky and nestled in The Smokeys. As soon as I stepped in, I saw the handsome young man I'd married over fourteen years ago. He was dressed in a tuxedo and waiting for the signal to take his place as a groomsman.

We exchanged smiles and I was escorted down the aisle to my seat. My daughter was escorted as well by a young gentleman in a small tuxedo- just his size.

We listened to the musicians play as the grandmothers were seated, then the mothers. Bridesmaids walked down the aisle holding lovely bouquets of flowers which matched the beautiful swags that hung gracefully from the ends of the Chapel's pews. Groomsmen stood perfectly straight, hands clasped. My husband was among them, standing with friends of the groom.

The groom who was my husband's best man over fourteen years ago.

And then the doors opened as the musicians played. Guests rose to their feet as the bride entered the sanctuary. She was beautiful. As she made her way down the aisle, the groom never took his eyes off of her.

Music played, a minister spoke, a mother recited, friends read, but the bride and groom knew nothing and no one else but each other. A kiss was shared and the two of them began a lifelong journey together.

Each filling a place that had not been filled before.

One they never knew was empty.


To "Dave and Scully", (or M and T,) God bless you as you begin your life together. We were honored to share in such a special and sacred occasion.

Home again

We are home after a long drive and too many stops at Cracker Barrel. All in all, it was a good trip.

The wedding was beautiful.

More later...

Goin' to the chapel

Not me.

I'm already married.

Nope, we are heading out in a few days to Dave and Scully's wedding. We are excited to meet Scully for the first time. (Sorry to call you Scully on THE BLOG, just protecting your privacy.)

And, guess what! I found a dress. It is black, simple and it was on sale. Yes, M'am. It is an evening wedding and hubs will be in a tux. Daughter helped me pick out the handbag, a light silver (not too shiny.)

She said, "You don't want to be all black. You aren't going to a funeral."

I love her.

We were out today picking up some last minute items, prescriptions, and so on. We also made a stop at Chick-fil-A. You can't go to the mall without going to Chick-fil-A. It's like going to Disney without visiting Cinderella's castle. It just isn't done.

Tonight, I overheard daughter telling her Daddy about her day and I overheard her say this-

"I've said 'y'all' a lot today, Daddy."

That sweet girl of mine.

Template changes

For some unknown reason, some of my pictures were difficult to load.

I am using a blogger template for a clean slate and to make posts a little easier to read.

If you check back and things are all cattywampus, that's why.

My, how the times flies when your feet are aching.

I just got back from decorating for VBS. We left the house 11 hours ago.

ELEVEN HOURS.

My daughter did not even whine. She spent the day with her friend, playing, watching movies, making crafts and eating Happy Meals that we got them for lunch.

Did I mention I have been gone eleven hours?

I had spray paint up my nose, y'all. How does that happen?

There should be a warning on the can which reads,"Hey, lady who is not as good at multi-tasking as she was 5 years ago, don't spray this in the wind on crumpled paper making a rock wall or it could go up your nose or on your clothes or on your friend's shoe."

But in order to get all of that on the can, the print would have to be way too small and I couldn't read it anyway.

I'm just sayin.'

Why I drive a Big Gulp

I've driven a Camry for the last eight years. Over the years, Cam and I have had some tender moments. We've shared laughter and tears, traffic jams, Diet Coke spills, upset tummies, and a package of McDonald's apple dipper caramel sauce that formed a molecular bond with the back seat.

It's been fun. But, just like all fun, it must come to an end.

Sorry, Cam. I'm trading you in for a newer model.

We have looked, researched, contemplated, considered and reconsidered. A few weeks ago we finally took the plunge and bought a new vehicle.

When we started shopping for cars, my biggest issue was space. There are only three of us, but we seem to have a lot of stuff. Ask my closest friends and my patient husband; my trunk is always full of somethingorother. I have gotten a little better about keeping it clean. (Hubs would disagree.)


My close friend, T has teased me about it. I've been known to have a treasure box full of candy during Bible School season, Hello Kitty band-aids, Sunday School craft supplies, bags of clothes ready for Good Will and even other items that other people would give to me to pass on to needy people. (For some reason, they think I know just where to take them.)

In fact, one time our church received donations of toys after a severe hurricane. There were so many donations that my friend Steph and I ended up hauling them to a local agency. Inside one of the donation boxes was a game of Lucky Ducks. Anytime I hit a speed bump or rounded a curve too fast, I heard "Quack, quack, quack" from the trunk.

So, where was I?

Oh, right. Space. We bought an SUV.

I know all about gas prices. I drive my daughter to and from school every day. I have to stop and fill the tank on a regular basis.

However,I live in America and for the time being, I am able to choose what I buy (within my means), when I buy it, and I can shop around for the best price and quality.

I can purchase a non-fat venti mocha, add the whip from Miriam or save our money and spend the same amount on a gallon of gas. Neither are a bargain, but for now I can choose. (Silly, isn't it that we complain about paying $4.00 for a gallon of gas but we'll pay the same amount, plus tip for a drink that we'll guzzle faster than any Hummer could.)

But, all of that could change.

I can drive our new Honda Pilot because I still love the workmanship of Japanese cars or I could one day purchase a car made and designed by a US auto maker, all because I am able to shop around and nothing but my checkbook and family budget dictate anything different.

That could change.

I can haul Lucky Ducks or used clothing to a faith-based relief organization or I can load the back with Vacation Bible School treasures or even Bibles and drive all over town.

But, that could change.

I can drive my daughter to school or we can stay home and homeschool. We could just ride around for the fun of it.

All of that could change.

We can drive to church and give an offering, to the mall and purchase something with the money we've saved. We can also use some of the money we have saved to send to our sponsored child, donate to the local homeless shelter, or give to a family member who needs help with their medical expenses. All of this because, for now, my husband's income is not taxed (too) excessively.

That could change.

One very important Tuesday in November, I am going to hop in my new Honda Pilot, bring daughter along as I always do, drive to the polls and cast my ballot for the next American President.

All because I can. For now.

But, all of that could change.

Happy Father's Day

In honor of the day that we all give Dad a tie or something that includes fire and food, I just want to say, "Happy Father's Day" to my husband and to my own Daddy.

You both make childhood fun.

You both show your daughter that you love them.

You both show your daughter that you love Jesus.

You both can grow some serious gardens.

You both have taught me how to fix something just in case in needs fixin.'

I love you both.

Now, go and take a nap.

I could use a nice Yeti.

We flew to Charleston. On a plane and everything. I've flown before, but it has been a while. I'd forgotten how much I don't like it.

Hubs travels with work and he complains about the flying part. He doesn't mind going somewhere; he just doesn't like getting there.

Hey, Hubs. Me, too.

The last time he traveled, he was seated next to an elderly woman who needed assistance with her seat belt. Bless her heart. This time he was seated smack dab in the middle of daughter and me. We just needed assistance with snack. Hubs travels with a backpack as his carry on and it can come in handy when your daughter wants to watch a DVD or your wife starts to feel a little queasy and needs some salty pretzels to settle her stomach.

That Hubs can be quite useful when he puts his mind to it.

The trip to Charleston was somewhat uneventful, aside from the glitch where the airline seated us in completely separate rows with a minor and the few moments when I wanted to hurl. Besides those two, you know, minor details, the trip was great.

The trip back home was different altogether. In a word- HYSTERICAL.

It may have been that we were all very tired or it may have been that we were suffering from baby toes withdrawal, but something about the trip home was funny. Every single thing that happened was funny.

The people on the plane. Funny.

Del Griffith was seated behind me and he kept kicking my seat. He talked incessantly and I am guessing he was trying to sell shower curtain rings to the guy sitting next to him. Neal Page, I feel your pain.

Del's less friendly cousin was across the aisle from me. (I love an aisle seat. Lots of room. Just protect your funny bone from the beverage cart.) Del's cousin was, ahem, big boned. Just as he was about to get in his seat, he leaned over to put his carry-on under the seat and I just happened to turn my head. It was a full moon right there at 10,000 feet.

Hubs and I could not hold it in. We laughed like school kids. He was laughing at me, not with me.
Fortunately, I don't think Del's cousin caught on to our humor. He was too busy fiddling with his seat belt.

During the flight, daughter fell asleep. Hubs and I dove right in to the crossword puzzle, and then on to the finest shopping in the air.

SkyMall magazine.

I have to ask y'all something. Have any of you ever ordered anything from SkyMall? If you have, please let me know in the comments.

I just don't get it. What is so appealing about shopping on an airplane? Is it boredom or that you don't have to find a parking place? Some of the items are hilarious.

Like the Yeti garden statue. You can impress your friends, offend your neighbors or just freak people out with this Big Foot statue. Can't you just picture it scaring away the plastic flamingos?

There was this patch of fake grass for your puppy to relieve himself. I have that. It's called a rug.

The flight was long enough that we looked through the entire catalog. We laughed until we cried.

I bet Del could sell a few of his shower curtain rings if he just listed them in SkyMall magazine.

Hey, Del. Watch out for Sasquatch.

Baby toes in the sand

I spent the week getting lots of sugar from my sweet niece, Molly. She is 14 months old and I just can't believe it. Watching her giggle and grin at my own sweet girl was just precious. The two of them strengthened a bond that formed long before Molly entered the world.

We flew to Charleston, SC, one of my favorite places on the planet, and then drove down to Edisto Island, one of my new favorite places on the planet, where we met Molly, Grammy, and B-Pop. My sister-in-law, T, had to head back home before we could arrive.

Y'all already know a little about why I love Charleston. Now let me tell you about Edisto Island.

Imagine a place where you can visit the beaches of the Atlantic, spend evenings perched atop a widow's walk and watch the sun set behind sherbet- colored houses. You can walk to the beach from an old family home that has probably been passed down for generations. There is a picture of the lady of the house framed in the hall, posed in a 1950's swimsuit, smiling with a friend, and sitting on the same Atlantic beach.

There are tourists everywhere, but if it were not for their Edisto Beach t-shirts, they'd just blend in with the locals. Everyone buys their groceries from a little Piggly Wiggly on the one, main road because you are nearly an hour from the closest super store.

I'm only 38 years old and I'm ready to retire there. Well, if I had over a million dollars. Until then, we can just visit.

The funny thing is that I live on the Florida Panhandle now. (Yep, I just divulged some personal information. Shocker!) While I would never in a million sea shells trade the white, pristine Gulf beaches for the grey, muddy Atlantic, I loved Edisto for the lack of tacky tourist feel.

It was a wonderful trip to the beach, a different beach, but the beach isn't why we went. It was those sweet, chubby baby toes.

They'll get you every time.

Still alive and kickin'

Just checking in to let you know I am still alive.

We have been on vacation, WITHOUT INTERNET at home and I have no idea how long I will even be able to be online this evening. The internet people will be here tomorrow to fix the problem permanently.

In the meantime, every time I get online I feel like some diver who isn't sure how much oxygen he has left in his tank.

MUST BREATHE NOW.

Will post later... I hope.

The Library Post

I used to love the library but, now I hate it. I have no idea when it happened. It's like going gray. One day you wake up Brooke Shields and the next day you're Bea Arthur.

When I was little, I loved going to the library. Mama would give me a book limit and I'd have a hard time sticking to it. I would carry my stack of books to one of the kid tables, plop it down, and count. One, two, three... aww, I have to put some of them back.

The public library was my quiet, organized, dusty playground.

Somewhere between Blue Lagoon and The Golden Girls, the library became my stifling, musky torture chamber.

The weird thing is that I love book stores. Love them. (The coffee helps.) My husband finds this odd. He can't understand the difference between the public library and a book store.

Oh, there's plenty.

Book store employees. They are hired for their pleasantry. Every now and then, one of the applicants rejected from the post office gets in and infiltrates the ranks. More often, book store employees are friendly, helpful and happy to be there.

Librarians. They are grouchy. They are are there because they like books and organization, not people. They can't understand why you need help finding a book. They have memorized the Dewey Decimal System. Why can't you?

In a back room, behind a stack of National Geographic magazines, covered with an old, chenille bedspread, sits the card catalog. They keep it for the day it will be used again because, this computer trend is just not going to last.

Insert plea for understanding here. For the love of Barnes and Noble, if you are a librarian, I am sure you are lovely and sweet and friendly and you do not wear orthopedic shoes. The fact that you are blogging puts you into a whole other librarian category. Your mere presence improves the Librarian Gene Pool. Stay strong, my rebel friend.

Organization. This one may be what gets me the most. The library is one of the most organized places on earth. There is a place for everything, everything in its place.

Yet this is what drives me crazy.

Here's the kicker. I can't find a thing in the library. I have to go to a computer, type in a subject or author or the name of the book. (I don't even know what book I want.) If that doesn't work, I have to crack the code of the Dewey Decimal system and find the right section, then turn my head sideways to read the titles. In the meantime, the librarian, who has every shelf memorized, does not even ask if I need help.

Give me a book store with huge labels like "History" and "Fiction." They've even got "Home Decorating." All I have to do is walk in, look up, read the gigantic signs and walk over to the shelf. And, get this! Some of the books are shelved so you can read the cover. Genius! I don't have to croon my neck. If I still can't find what I need, the pleasant employee will actually assist me, and she smiles. Wow.

All this, plus coffee.

There is a least one person out there who is thinking, "But the library is free."

I know. But, so are shots at the Health Department and you won't see my lining up for those either.

I'll just stick with my book store with its happy lighting and lattes. You can have the public library with its fluorescent bulbs and public water fountain.

Say "hi" to Maude for me while you're there.

Friend and Hero

Kudos to this little boy who saved his friend!

Way to go, Haden!

School's Out For Summer!!

Daughter and I are sitting here on the couch watching Spongebob and having a gummie bear taste-test guessing game.

This is the life. And I don't even really like gummie bears.

Later, we will spend the day finishing up the waves for VBS and shopping for shoes.

Somewhere along the way I might get a non-fat venti mocha, add the whip.

Yes, M'am. Summer has arrived and she's got her tankini on.

Making Waves

This is to prove to the rest of the VBS Decorating Committee that I am in fact at home tonight painting my delegated murals of ocean waves instead of attending the VBS Decorating Committee meeting.

Um, right after I blog about it.

I've been known to make waves in my time but not in the literal sense.

Unless you count the time that daughter and I were sitting on a sandbar and I grabbed what I thought was a really cool shell from beneath the sand.

Turns out the really cool shell was someone's home.

I screamed and flicked the homeowner, a crab that had a serious grip on the end of my finger, right back into the water. Daughter walked on water and ran to the shore.

Then she turned around and, after making sure I was fine, said, "Mommy! Stop that! You're freaking me out!"

I am so glad this year's VBS theme does not include cranky shellfish.

She lived.

I was watching Hope Floats last night, curled up on the couch, waiting for the scene when the Mama drops the teacup, anticipating a serious cry, when one of my other favorite scenes came on.

Big Delores.

Poor Bernice, bless her heart, accidentally hits Big Delores with a volleyball and thereby puts her own life in danger.

After all, Big Delores has a gang. It's called "Big Deloris." (love that line)

The moment when Travis and Bernice's sweet friend help her up off the ground after she has been pounded by Big Delores is a precious picture of childhood friendship. Funny how some of my favorite movie scenes involve some kid getting beat up or rescued from being beat up. Maybe it's because I was bullied as a kid...

Everyone was afraid of him. He was much taller than the rest of the class and he liked to use his height to lord over us. One day, we were at recess, playing on the monkey bars, when the bully came over and yelled for us to get off. Everyone hurriedly climbed down and ran away.

Everyone but me.

Just as I tried to get away, he pulled my hair and gave a quick yank. He literally pulled my hair bald-headed. Yep, he was a regular gentleman. Well, I wasn't completely bald but I did have a bald spot big enough for Mama to show to the bully's daddy.

Oh, yes she did.

The boy lived in our neighborhood and after I got home from school and explained to Mama what happened on the playground, she promptly put me in the car and drove me to the bully's house. I can remember standing in their front yard while Mama pointed to my bald spot as evidence. The daddy didn't care (big surprise) and the bully went virtually unpunished.

Mama calmly led me back to the car and drove home. Now that I'm a Mama myself, I can't imagine how my own Mama restrained herself the way she did. I think I would have pulled that daddy's hair bald-headed.

Looking back, I think he was already bald. Maybe Mama got to him after all.

;>)

Thursday Thirteen: Reasons why I haven't had a real post in a long, long time.

1. My family is smack dab in the middle of a transition phase which has forced me to grab hold of my faith and hang on.

2. To put things in perspective, we are only moving. None of us are sick or dealing with a critical illness.

3. But for me, it is still a move- one that I wasn't expecting.

4. Hubs has been out of town taking care of business. I am always a little off when he is gone. (Okay, I am little off when he is home.)

5. When Hubs goes away, he will always come back with some great blog fodder. Like the fact that a couple sat their very elderly mother right next to him on the airplane and the very elderly mother could not figure out how to work the seat belt.

6. One must also remember that Hubs does not talk to people. If I were on the plane, the very elderly mother would have asked me if I was voting for Hillary and I would have helped her with her seat belt. And her free samples of pretzels.

7. Besides the fact that my brain is trying to get used to the idea that my family will pack up and move soon, it has also been preparing for a Girl Scout overnight field trip.

8. Would someone please sign my permission slip? I may need to be given medication.

9. I had my hair highlighted and it was too blonde, so I went back today to get some lowlights put in. The funny thing is that my hairdresser was also getting highlights. She colored her own hair and didn't like it, so one of her hairdresser friends was putting in highlights to fix it. She rinsed out my highlights while she still had foils in and was wearing a cape.

Life Lesson- Even the pro's mess up their own hair on a whim and have to get someone else to fix their coloring mishaps. I feel better now about the time I colored my hair a deep auburn in college and refused to go to class. My professor did not have any sympathy for me.

10. I am still without a dress for the wedding. I have learned that in order to have a dress, you have to actually go to the store and try them on.

Weird.

11. This has nothing to do with anything, but my Starbucks lady, Miriam noticed that I ordered a tall instead of a grande the other day.

12. I volunteered in the school library today. YES, THE LIBRARY! But it was a school library. School libraries do not make me twitch.

Anyway, a very sweet and funny older lady volunteers there. She had me in stitches. IN STITCHES. She has volunteered in the library all year. Today was my first day and I realize I have been missing out. She totally needs her own blog.

13. Did I mention that I am going on a field trip with a lot of giggly girls? Overnight? I seriously need to pack...

WFMW: Teacher's Gifts

The end of the school year is drawing near and if you give an end-of-year gift, you know it's a challenge to come up with an original and personal gift.

Bath sets- Done

Cookie mix- Done

Teacher coffee mug- Done

So, what's a mom to do?

Several years ago, I gave this gift to my daughter's preschool teachers and they loved it. We lived close to the beach. I purchased an inexpensive, colorful beach bag and filled it with a beach towel and sunscreen.

The idea is to think of something your child's teacher will enjoy this summer.

Does she like to garden? Fill an inexpensive tote bag with garden gloves and tools. (The Dollar Tree is your best friend!)

Will your teacher be traveling over the summer? How about a new atlas and some car games? (Or a gas card!)

If your child's teacher has small kids, think of activities they could do as a family. How about a fun basket with bubbles, a kite, or a movie rental card?

You can put together a nice gift without breaking the bank. Visit the Dollar Store for great bargains.

Include a note with the gift wishing her the very best summer. She deserves the time off!

Any other ideas? Share them in the comments. I'd love to read them!

Visit Shannon for more great tips!

BooMama saves the day yet again.

I'm dog tired.



TARRED.



We just returned from Mama's and I did what most of you would do when you just got home from a trip (after a visit to the facilities, of course.)



I checked my favorite blogs.



BooMama listed Twenty Things She Will Never Do and because I am a weary traveler with nary a brain cell left under this Cheetos and Diet Coke Induced stupor, I am thankful for any ideas for a post.



So, here goes.



Twenty Things I Will Never Do



1. Stop at that Burger King on the Interstate, the one where the young teen was making burgers with his bare hands and I could not stomach the thought of him grabbing hold of my shredded lettuce moments before I ate my Whopper.

(We left before ordering.)

However, the facilities were quite clean.

2. Watch Seinfeld without laughing.

3. Become a librarian.

4. Stop wearing lipstick of some hue. Neutral, natural, whatever. I need my lipstick.

5. Go on The Alaska Experiment. (sorry Hubs)

6. Go on any experiment or other torture adventure series which would require me to partake in something called "roughing it."

7. Stop eating Chunky Monkey.

8. Start eating raw veggies as a delicious snack.

9. Forget the name of the nurse who helped me deliver my child.

Karen. Her name was Karen.

10. Start saying stuff like "when we were pregnant."

We weren't pregnant. I am the only one with stretch marks.

11. Go to a Neil Diamond concert.

12. Quit watching my child sleep.

13. Say "no, thank you" to a piece of chocolate cake.

14. Buy a bikini. (This could be related to #13.)

15. Go bungee jumping.

16. Choose rice over mashed potatoes.

17. Sign up for a Math Seminar.

18. Turn down an opportunity to sop a good biscuit. In the right company, of course.

19. Stop cleaning with bleach. (I've tried, Mrs. Greenie. Really. I start to tremble without the clean, lung-burning smell of Clorox. It kills germs and respiratory tissue.)

20. Buy a label maker.

In other words, I like food and clean facilities. As long as neither of them require me to do math.

Bloggy break and more stuff...

I must have gone and lost my mind because daughter and I are taking a road trip to Mama's this weekend, the busiest traffic weekend of the year.

Hello. What was I thinking?

So, I'll be on a blog break for a few days, if I can last that long. If I start to twitch, I may just have to go to the library and use their computer because Mama is still not online.

Believe me when I tell you that I would have to be suffering delirium tremors from blog withdrawal to be at the library.

I do not heart the library.

One of these days I'll explain my irrational distain, but not today. I have to pack.

If you are traveling this weekend, be careful out there on the road.

And honk if you read BooMama. ;>)

Sincere sympathy...

Please pray for the Chapman family as they have lost one of their daughters to a tragic accident. Pray also for their son who was involved.

The Chapmans have been amazing champions for adoption and for the message of Jesus Christ.

Our hearts go out to them.

You can visit the site of Steven Curtis Chapman to express your condolences.

Weather Alert

When you write a post encouraging others to Remember Rainbows, inevitably it starts to rain at your house.



More later...

Writing today at the Cafe

"What is this world coming to?" was something my mother used to say. Now I hear myself saying it and I wonder how my own child will grow up in a world full of pain and evil. It all seems to just get worse.

Do you ever feel the same way?

Feeling a little discouraged as a parent?

Come on over to The Internet Cafe and visit with me today for a chat about today's world and God's Promises.

Thank you notes that do not require postage

I wrote a few weeks ago about the changes that have taken place for our Sunday School class.

Good changes. Great changes. Godly changes.

If you've read my blog long enough, you know I don't use the word "God" lightly. Besides, it's not just a word; it's a Name. A Holy Name.

So when I say Godly changes, I mean it. I believe it.

Through some wonderful volunteers, we have started a new system for my class. There are pre-K and Kindergarten kids in this group and if you have ever taught these ages, you know they have very different learning styles and very different attention spans. When there are just a few of them together, you can adjust your teaching method.

But when there are sometimes 18 of them together, all you can adjust is your medication.

Oddly enough, no matter what learning style or attention span they have, they all have a few things in common.

They love snack.

They love hearing about Jesus.

Snack was never an issue. My assistant and I come from the old Southern Baptist School which teaches "Thou shalt never run out of food."

That rule is right up there with "Thou shalt feed people when they are celebrating, mourning, recovering, or just breathing."

So, snack was never a challenge for us.

Telling them about Jesus in an effective way was a challenge. When you are in a small room with a dozen or so kids and several of them decide that the button to turn on their listening ears is broken, you end up talking over them and the other children get nothing out of the lesson.

Now, let me stop the bus here. The Word of God does not return void. The issue was that I don't think many of them could hear the Word of God with all of the talking and the yelling and the whining.

Okay, I didn't always whine...

This morning, I was looking forward to the lessons. Because of a new rotation system, the kids all have snack together, then they split off. The younger pre-K kids go to music and worship time and the Kindergartners stay in the room for the lesson. Then, we switch. The kids love it and it is so great to be able to talk with them in small groups and teach them on their level.

Our lesson today was on Elisha and the woman who welcomed him in her home. Our focus was supposed to be on caring for other believers, which we did discuss. We shared how we could care for others. The kids were eager to give suggestions on how to be kind.

Then, God led me down a trail...

I told the kids that we are to do for others just because. We aren't supposed to expect anything in return- not even a thank you, although that would be nice. Many times the person will never say thank you. Many times we think no one notices.

God notices. He sees. He will reward us in heaven, but that isn't all. He will also reward us here on earth. God always notices when we are doing the right thing and He will show us in some way- through a nice surprise or maybe the kindness of others.

Of course, they wanted to know "how." I love questions. It shows me they are paying attention.

There are so many times in my life when I have seen this happen. I shared one of the stories with the class. And now I'll share it with you...

A few months ago my daughter and I were at the dollar store, waiting in line at the register. The man ahead of me paid for his purchase, then started to walk away. As he did, he dropped a twenty dollar bill.

I quickly picked it up and said,"Excuse me, sir. You dropped this."

He took the money and said,"Oh, you're an honest person. I would have kept it."

He walked away and the cashier turned to me and commented,"I could never keep it. That's bad karma."

"That's God." I said, "I don't believe in Karma but I believe in doing the right thing."

(I didn't tell the kids the karma part. They are in kindergarten. But I did tell them what the man said and that I shared with the cashier that I wanted to do what God would want.)

The next day I was leaving Wal-mart with a cart full of bags. Unknown to me, a bag fell out of the kid seat as I walked through the parking lot.

A lady ran up to me, picked up the bag and said,"Excuse me, m'am. You dropped this."

"Thank you," I said.

For the most part, I think the Kindergartners got it. Although, one very smart girl in the class wanted to know how a bag could fall out of my cart without me knowing about it.

We shared a lot more after that about doing the right thing.

Being good when no one is looking.

Being kind just because.

Because God is looking and He knows when we are being good or kind or whatever it is we are supposed to be.

And He always says thank you.

Let the good times roll.

Daughter played on the slip 'n slide with friends.

Then they took a break for popsicles.

The neighbor and her dog came over to visit with us.

The dog played with the kids and got a scoobie snack.

While the kids were on the swings, the dog rolled in some unknown excrement. (Beaver?)

Neighbor went back home to scrub the dog.

Daughter and friends are next door watching dog have her fur blown dry.

Yep, it's a fun day at our house.

No dress yet, but I had some delicious chicken nuggets.

I went out today to look for a dress to wear to an upcoming wedding. Honestly, I wasn't in the mood to try on clothes but I had the time and opportunity. Plus, Hubs is off again today, so he could pick up daughter from school.

Isn't that just the way it is? You have the time and even a little money and you cannot find a single thing on the rack?

Must be one of Murphy's Laws.

I didn't even find one thing I wanted to try on. Most of the semi-formal dresses were sleeveless. Not going there. The others I found were a little too dressy or shiny. I want to look like I am at the wedding not like I am in the wedding.

My husband is going to read this and think it is much ado about nothing. He just doesn't get it. He's a man and real men don't worry about clothes. They worry about bills and flat tires and hair loss.

I ended my shopping trip with a stop at Chick-Fil-A because no mall visit is complete without it. After eating fried nuggets and fries, I was less than inspired to try on clothes.

However, I did buy Spanx- my generations version of the girdle. My grandmother would be proud. A little Lycra is good for everybody.

Especially when it is covering chicken nuggets and waffle fries.

On the hunt...

I'm off today to search for a dress. I'll let you know how it goes.

Like most really good hunting trips, it takes a few hikes in the woods to get the best prize.

Unlike most really good hunting trips, I am going to take a bath before I leave and I refuse to wear camouflage.

If only I could just order my dress from Cabella's...

How do you spell Sack Race?

I've always said there is a reason why God made families with both a dad and a mom.

For one, having the appropriate gender available during the potty training phase is always a good thing.

And you can't play Good Cop- Bad Cop with only one Cop.

I'm just sayin.'

Then there's the fact that one parent is bound to be athletic and outdoorsy and one is ya know, not.

Guess which Cop I am.

Today is Field Day at my daughter's school. She is excited. She got up this morning all ready to put on her special Field Day t-shirt and put her hair up in a floppy ponytail. Try as I may to always understand and relate to her feelings and convictions in life, this one is hard for me.

I hated Field Day.

Field Day was extended, organized P.E. and P.E. usually involved a dodgeball that I could not dodge. Amazing too, because back then I was a tiny thing. Back in the day.

I loved recess. I loved the swings (even though now they make me want to hurl.) I loved the monkey bars. I liked to get dirty and explore.

But please don't make me stand in line while little Mia Hamm picks the kickball team. I was always one of two kids left and the other kid was not "tiny." Ahem.

I remember Field Day with all of the relays and races. I'd cling to another non-athletic friend and we would commiserate.

Clumsy loves company.

All the while I was thinking, "Can't we all just go in and have a Spelling Bee?"

Last week, daughter's school asked for parent volunteers for Field Day. Because I say "yes" to pretty much anything other than a field trip to the post office, I signed up. Plus, time with daughter trumps Field Day Flashbacks.

Then, in a wondrous miracle, Hubs took today off.

Hubs plays soccer. Hubs likes to go camping. Guess which Cop he is.

So, this morning I thought to myself, "Self, Hubs can help with Field Day and cheer daughter on and you can go shopping or stay home and brush up on your Spelling."

More reason why God designed the family to have both a dad and a mom.

And besides, sometimes even the Bad Cop needs to expand her vocabulary.

;>)

Wedding Dress

Dr. Freud, I think I need to lie down.

If you look in a Psychiatric Diagnostics Manual on page 546, you would find what is ailing me, along with a picture of me standing in a tiny dressing room with that little footstool, a magnetic shelf and a 3-way mirror with views of my muffin top, my backside and my double chin.

I have Pre-Event Dress Disorder.

Our friend Dave is getting married this summer. Hubs is in the wedding, so his wardrobe is covered. I am so thankful, too. It relieves the stress of me having to pick out his clothes. But, now I am on the hunt for a dress for myself, one that is appropriate for photos next to Hubs wearing a tux.

I am so excited about the wedding. Honestly, we are thankful that Dave has found someone who will put up with him.

I still haven't met the bride-to-be, but she must be something special if she has the patience and courage to marry Dave. Plus, based on all of the wonderful things Dave has told us, I know she is lovely and sweet and smart and all of those other things a bride should be.

I love her already.

But she cannot possibly be as stressed as I am.

I know it is her day, blah blah blah, and I know she is the bride and under a tremendous amount of pressure counting how many people are getting the chicken and the beef and trying to figure out how she is going to do her hair, but at least she knows what she is going to wear.


(Bride-to-be, because we haven't met, you may be tempted to take this post seriously; don't. Once we get to know each other, you'll realize that Hubs and I are just as weird as Dave.)

I was telling my daughter the other day some of the rules about weddings and guests' attire. For example, no woman but the bride may wear white.

Insert fervent prayer here- Please, Lord, do not let anyone show up at the wedding in white or my daughter just might point it out to me in a very loud whisper right there next to the groom's cake.

When my daughter asked, "why?" I explained further...

"Only the bride wears white. No one is supposed to take any attention from her. No one should be dressed fancier than her. (My daughter understands fancy.) It is her day. And, it is respectful to her to wear what is appropriate. Like, we can't show up at the wedding in flip-flops."

Insert giggles here.

I also shared with her that, since Daddy is going to be wearing a tux, that Mommy has to match him. I haven't matched anything in a tux since the late 90's.

Before y'all leave me some comments that "it's what's on the inside that counts" and "it doesn't matter what you wear as long as you wear a smile," I'll just go ahead and say that all may sound great on a Hallmark card but if you were the one going to the wedding, you'd know it's a bunch of hogwash.

And, just so ya know, when I put my mind to it, I can be quite lovely on the inside but no one is going to see my insides in any photos. At least, I hope not.

Hmmm... maybe I should have gone with the chicken.

Creepy

I saw this meme over at Vernonica's blog and decided to play along. There are a few other bloggers out there who are participating as well.

As it turns out, I am not as weird as I thought.

Here are a few things that creep me out:

1. Masquerade balls. I am a little nervous around folks who insist on hiding their faces. Plus, all of the feathers and sequins are too much.

And can I just say that men should never wear feathers and sequins?

2. Clowns.

3. Swimming in the ocean. I have to see the bottom of where I am swimming. The thought of what is swimming out there with me sends shivers down my spine. Just let me wade in the water no deeper than waist deep. I'll swim in the pool, thankyouverymuch.

4. Sitting next to the window on an airplane. I'd rather sit on the aisle. Again, my brain starts working and I think about the fact that there is a small space between me and the clouds. A strong, sturdy, steel space, yes, but....

Just give me an aisle seat. I can stretch- at least to one side.

5. Sitting in a theatre and not being near an exit.

I think I have "need for escape" issues.

So, what about you? What gives you the heebie jeebies??

Happy Mommy Blogger's Day

Let's hear it for the mommy bloggers out there,

for their commitment to daily posts,

and for their heartwarming and hilarious kids

who make it all possible.

Happy Mother's Day!

Honoring Mom- A meme

There's a great meme about moms going on at Internet Cafe today.

Take a minute to visit and find out what it's all about.

Then, write a post and add your link at the Cafe.

Bloggy break

I am taking a break for a few days, not because I want to, but because someone has to do the laundry.

I'll still be a lurker in between loads.

Be back in a few dozen or so socks...

It's a slow count.

As soon as I turned the laptop on this morning, I checked the headlines to see the results of yesterday's Indiana primary. I tried to stay up. I really did, but something was amiss in Lake County, Indiana last night and these weary, nerdy, election process-loving eyes were tired.

I am obviously a lightweight.

Because the election volunteers in Lake County were still up and counting ballots while the Fox News anchors and I were nodding off.

I have to chuckle. I've been to the polls. I've seen the volunteers. They are retired people, dedicated retired people, yes. But, retired people tend to take their time.

I keep picturing a lady named Thelma who made a special hair appointment on Monday, outside of her normal Friday routine, so that she would look good for the election on Tuesday. And a gentleman named Harold with his pants pulled up higher than his knee socks and a cap on that reads, "#1 Grandpa."

Then there's the loud mouth that no one likes, the one that wants to help everyone. All of the other volunteers look at him and roll their eyes. I'll bet he doesn't get invited to Bridge Night.

I'm trying to be PC here, unlike a few news anchors who said that they couldn't believe the folks in Lake County were still counting because, "Isn't it past their bedtime?"

Well, apparently not. They all stayed up and counted thousands of ballots in the name of Democracy, all after you climbed into bed with your down comforter and hypo-allergenic pillow, Junior.

The funny thing is, one day I can totally picture myself sitting there counting those ballots and you can bet your ballot that I'll have my hair done.

WFMW: NOT!

Shannon has issued a new challenge this week. She wants us to share what has not worked for us.

I ask you, Shannon, how much time do you have?

Seriously, I'll try to narrow it down to one or two, maybe three things. Goodness knows that I could write a novel on goofs I've made.

1. Not emptying the lint filter on the dryer. When we first married, I told Hubs that the dryer just wasn't working as well as it used to. He asked if I had emptied the lint filter.

"Huh?" I said.

He checked and it was full of lint. As he tells it, it had a lint blanket.

When he questioned why I hadn't emptied it, I told him that the lint filter was not where it was on Mama's dryer and that I assumed it didn't have one. (You can laugh now.)

So, there ya go- Always empty the lint filter after each dryer use. Not doing so will result in damp clothes and a story that your husband will never, ever forget.

2. Adding water to the car radiator's coolant resevoir tank.

A car needs antifreeze (the right mix) and water for all the seasons. Not just winter. The right mixture is the coolant.

When my old car ran hot, I kept adding water only.

Water only in a hot radiator = Boiling water= Overheated engine and huge repair bill.

I'm no mechanic. My idea of checking the oil is dropping a pebble in there and listening for a "ping," so I am sure there is a more technical explanation than the one I'm offering here. Bottom line- adding water only did not work for me. Or my Toyota Paseo. Bless its sporty little heart.

So, leave it to the experts.

3. Refusing delivery on a package via the US Postal Service.

Y'all know how I feel about Newman.

I ordered something from a company with guaranteed delivery. The item was for a holiday and the holiday was fast approaching. I phoned the company and said that I had not received the item. They told me to "refuse delivery" on the original order when it arrived and then they shipped another order via FedEx Overnight with no additional shipping charge.

The overnight package arrived.

The original package arrived late. The mailman left it on the step because I was not a home. I did not open it and took it to the post office to "refuse delivery." All I did was hand the box over the counter and tell them that I was refusing delivery. No services were rendered. This is the same thing I would do if I had been home to recieve the package.

Weeks later, the company sent me a bill for the original order. Long story short, the post office "refused delivery" package was never returned to the company. I called the company and explained and they asked me to speak to the post office first.

When I asked the post office about it, they told me that I should have paid for "proof of delivery" back to the company which translates to me paying for a service that I was refusing. Yeah, that makes sense.

I called the company back and explained what the post office told me. Fortunately for me, the company forgave the bill.

By the way, the company was Oriental Trading and I continue to shop with them. Their customer service is exceptional.

Which is more than I can say for the post office.

;>)

See Shannon for tips on what tips do not work... er something like that.

A different kind of gourmet coffee

I have favorite stores. A favorite Target, favorite Wal-mart, favorite Starbucks. If you aren't a Starbucks junkie, you are probably thinking that every Starbucks is the same.

You are so wrong.

There are good Starbucks, mediocre Starbucks, and there are really bad Starbucks that you will go to only if you are desperate for a coffee.

My favorite Starbucks has Miriam. I see her several mornings a week after dropping daughter off at school. Miriam shows me pictures of her grandchildren. She tells me when she is going on vacation and when she'll be back.

Miriam knows I'm a venti mocha, non-fat, add the whip. She recognizes when I'm having a rough morning. (Maybe the bags under my eyes give it away.) Miriam can tell when I need an extra shot of espresso.

This morning, Miriam must have thought I needed something a little stronger...

"Good morning, this is Miriam. How can I help you?"

"I would like a Venti non-fat mocha, add the whip, with an extra shot."

(silence)

Order on the screen-

Mocha
non-fat
Venti
add whip
extra shot mocha

"Actually, I would like an extra shot of espresso. Not an extra shot of mocha."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you said extra sauce."

"I'm sorry. I should have been specific."

"Oh, no M'am. Don't apologize.... your total is $4.77 at the window..."

Drive around. Wait at window.

"Now you've got me hitting the sauce???"

chuckles out loud from Miriam

Giggles out loud from me, along with mental note, "Blog this when you get home."

If this keeps up, I might start making lists.

My mother-in-law is chuckling out loud right now. She knows I am not a list maker. I know that she is. She loves notepads and matching pencils.

I'm just trying to find a pencil that doesn't need sharpening.

My week is going to be busy. Tonight I was supposed to attend a meeting which, by the way, was cancelled, but my friend and I were not notified. (Fun stuff!) I am running lots of errands tomorrow, have appointments another day, a big Girl Scout Ceremony to help plan and run, and it is Mother's Day this weekend and my poor Mama does not have a gift.

And the cat has fleas.

But nothing, no nothing, is going to stop me from having dinner out with a friend and her sweet daughter one night this week. Call it an early Mother's Day gift to myself. Yes, M'am.

How is your week starting out?

We are more than conquerors

Last September I started teaching Sunday School. The class was made up of a mixture of four and five-year olds, some of whom could read and some just learning their colors and shapes. It was a fairly small class, just the right size, actually.

Some Sunday mornings my helper and I would teach a max of about 8 kids. I thought that was huge. But, for the most part, Sundays were pretty peaceful and joyful and all of the things Sunday School should be for children with tender hearts- open to the message of Jesus.

Then something happened.

Our church was making changes. Big changes. And before I knew it, the class size had more than doubled. To make room for a larger nursery, our class was moved to a smaller room. Plus, our class time increased.

Larger class, longer time, smaller room.

Overwhelmed. Yep, that was me.

I prayed for guidance from God and from leadership. Many Sundays I came home exhausted. "Growing Pains" is what we were and still are going through and I was feeling the stretch.

In addition to prayer, I also napped a lot. A whole lot. And I came up with new projects, new crafts, new ways to fill the time in class.

And thank you, Jesus, for snack.

But something in me felt defeated. My Spirit was broken and tired and weak, and to tell you the truth, my heart just wasn't in teaching anymore. As much as I loved the kids, my frustration and fatigue were stronger than my desire to keep teaching.

The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak...

So I quit. It was a shock to some around me, but not to others. I honestly felt all prayed out, all napped out, all snacked out and I just couldn't do it anymore.

To God's Glory, after my resignation (which was quickly withdrawn), helpers stepped up and some changes were made. Because of the proposed changes, I decided to stick it out. To hang in there.

Today was the very first day of those changes and I feel refreshed and renewed as a teacher. But most of all, my faith in fellow believers is renewed, along with God's Faithfulness to complete in me the work He has begun.

The awesome part of it all is that the children will be blessed. More attention is now being given to them in smaller, age-appropriate groups, and I am still able to teach them. But I am not sharing this with you to share the logistics of our new Sunday School.

I want you to know that whatever you are facing today, no matter how overwhelmed you are, that God's Hand is in it all. Just when you think no one cares, God will show you that He does and sometimes He shows you through the people around you.

Strive to honor God in all that you do and He will honor you. Sometimes it means dividing a classroom of 18 kids. Sometimes it means hugging your spouse when he or she isn't huggable. Sometimes it means getting up and going to work for a boss who is anything but respectable.

No matter what it is, you can conquer it, through His strength and His strength alone.

And, of course, snack always helps.

Field Trip Veteran

Y'all have to be patient with me this morning. Even with a triple venti mocha, I'm a little groggy from all the happenings from yesterday.

I went on a field trip with my daughter. It was one more to add to my field trip resume. Fortunately, no one was injured and no one cried. Plus, none of us had to duck for cover.

The group of kids on this particular field trip all have a major case of the smarts. Seriously, these kids are bright. (I don't mean to brag, but I am her mom and ahem... Okay, I do mean to brag. Just a little.)

The reason I'm telling you this is because going to a museum with a group of bright kids is like riding a roller coaster with Evil Kanevil. They are so excited about things that would make other kids just yawn.


They stop to read the plaques along the wall and they turn to the teacher to add their two cents, and then they turn to each other to talk about things like World War II and Einstein. The chaperones turn their backs for just a second, and before you know it, the kids have all disappeared to hold a United Nations meeting in the gift shop, and every war on earth has ended, world hunger is solved, and global warming, well, it just never happened.

The Polar Bears love them.

And again, I don't mean to brag, but I used to be one of these kids. (Notice I used the past tense.) I always loved learning. I would rather do a science experiment or write stories than play dodge ball. Mostly because I got pounded by the ball, but anyway...


Going on this field trip was fun for me. Plus, I was able to spend the entire day with my daughter. She wanted me to go along- something that may not last much longer.

One of these days I'll get the look that says, "Aww, Mom... do you have to go? That is so embarrassing. And would you please stop putting notes in my lunch. That is like soooo 3rd grade."

Sniff. Sniff.

When I called the school the other day to say that I would like to go on the trip, they mentioned that they needed another driver and asked if I wouldn't mind taking one additional child in my car. I agreed and since my daughter's friend was going, it was a perfect scenario of giggles and private field trip jokes in the back seat.

I swapped cars with Hubs for the day because my car needs some minor work. Besides the fact that the trip was a good distance away, I was responsible for someone else's child. Vehicle safety and reliability is of the utmost importance, and if you have read my blog for a while, you know that I am the Safety Paranoid Queen.

I've also been called the Hot Dog Nazi for asking moms to cut their toddler's hot dogs lengthwise instead of in little sections which just make me twitch because, hello, they are just little meat corks that can plug their tiny airway, but that's another story.

While waiting at a traffic light, I decided to look in Hubs' coin holder to see if he had any cash. I had a little with me, plus my debit card, but I decided to see if he had any in his car, in case of an emergency. Like if two giggly girls needed a Capri Sun or something.

When I looked in the coin holder, I found this.








That's a toy soldier. A wounded one. One that is saying, "Go ahead without me, buddy. Just leave me here and take cover. Look in my pocket; there's a letter to Mama..."

You may not be able to tell from the photo, but this toy soldier looks like he has been run over by something.

This guy has been in my husband's car for a while now, a present from our daughter. She thinks he is cool (the soldier and Hubs.) I'd forgotten all about him until I peeked in the coin holder yesterday.


I am sure that he is supposed to be a certain kind of soldier from a specific war or era, but since I haven't been one of the smart kids in a very, very long time, I honestly have no clue. To me, he is just Flat Army Guy In Pain.


The kids on the field trip could have properly identifed him, right down to his UN badge.

Next thing we know, they'll build an espresso bar.

Our next door neighbors are building a deck. It is awesome. Neither Carter nor Ty could build anything like this.

And, just as an observation, why is it that carpenters and handymen on HGTV have fraternity, preppy-like names but the men who come to my house to repair my washer and dryer are named "Stan" or "Jeb?"

So, anyway.

Our neighbors are constructing what could be the deck of all decks next to the pond and I suggested to them yesterday that they should seriously consider renting it out as a wedding reception location. All they need are some of those lights that you drape around the top and voila! It's time for the Chicken Dance.

M (the husband) works on the deck on the weekends and during the week when he comes home from work. I keep telling them he needs one of those big Trading Spaces canopies. There is some professional construction going on.

Because he has been outside working nearly every day building their dance floor, he has observed a lot of wildlife behavior.

Namely, beavers.

And if you are tired of hearing my beaver stories, then I recommend that you just turn away or subscribe to another blog because it appears that we are not going to be rid of them and, that being the case, I am just going to keep on, keeping on writing about them.

Still here?

Okay.

M said he has seen the beavers swimming in the pond in the late afternoon and that they suddenly appear right next to our property line, near our shed. Yesterday, D (the wife) decided she just couldn't stand it any longer and she waded in the pond to look.

The pond with the snakes. Yes, M'am.

Not even I would do that.

So she waded in the pond and found a hole along our bank. My Hubs went out there to look, too (without wading.) Sure enough. The beavers are tunneling under our shed.

Y'all, I totally opened the shed to see if they had dug a hole and set up house in there. I know there is a floor made of plywood, but plywood is no challenge for these beavers. They are insane.

It's like The Great Escape in reverse and with no Germans or POW's.

We haven't the slightest idea what we are going to do about the tunnel. If we plug up the hole, they'll just make a new one. There is a reason for the saying, "busy as little beavers."

Only it should be, "Busy as Big Beavers Who Terrorize the Neighborhood."

Just the other day, D was out cleaning the beaver dam, just as she does every morning to keep the water level low. (After all, her hubs is wading out there to put in pilings for the deck.)

When she walked over to the clean the dam, she found a sandbag. Her sandbag. From her yard. The beavers have stepped up their dam building game; they're using supplies from Home Depot.

Our concern is what the beavers are going to do once the neighbor's deck is finished. If we see them out there doing the Chicken Dance, I'll be sure to let you know.

OK, so don't put me on Movie Themed Jeopardy.

I started not to post this, but sometimes I like to make fun of myself. I might as well or someone else will do it for me.

Let me set up the scene for you, first.


Hubs and I were sitting in the living room watching Seinfeld. He was on one couch, me on the other, laptop on and blogging while watching Seinfeld.

It was the episode where George thinks he bought Jon Voight's car- the actor, not the periodontist.

Hubs- "The ending scene of this one is weird."

Me- "I know. We've had this discussion before. It is a spoof of Midnight Cowboy with Jon Voight. I looked it up for you on the Internet the last time we talked about it."

Hubs- "Oh, yeah. I forgot..."

(continue watching Seinfeld)

Hubs- "Who is Liam Neeson?"

Me- "We talked about this last time, too. He was in Schindler's List. He was the good guy."

Hubs- "You mean, Schindler?"

Me- "Yeah, I guess. Wasn't there more than one good guy?"

Hubs- Laughing out loud. "Saying he was in Schindler's List and that he was the good guy is like saying he was in Batman and was the guy wearing black."

Sound of me laughing at self.

So, maybe we don't know much about the movies. But we do know our Seinfeld.


Go ahead. Sympathize for our kid. She needs it.

Mother's Day Reality Check

Everywhere I look I see an advertisement, a poster or a commercial for Mother's Day.

And they are all totally REAL LIFE.

Apparently, I have been missing out...

Commercial- Young, thin mom with freshly highlighted hair, fashionable clothes, holding sun-kissed blonde child while smelling a daisy and hoping for nothing in the world because, obviously every dream has already come true.

My Reality- Middle-aged, pudgy mom with roots the length of sleepless nights, faded yoga pants, holding screaming baby in Wal-mart. while doing the "Sniff Check" and hoping there's a spare Pampers in the diaper bag.

Commercial- Mom waking up in the morning, sun streaming through the windows, fresh white linens on the bed, completely rested and pleasantly surprised at a tray with pancakes, coffee and, yet again, a daisy.

My Reality- Waking up in the morning with bags under my eyes to a kid who is prodding me to get up and make her some pancakes and then do crafts before the sun comes up.

Commercial- Mother cooking dinner, stirring something and tasting it on a wooden spoon while husband sneaks up from behind and hands her a small box with diamonds inside.

My Reality- Heating up chicken nuggets in the toaster oven and watching to make sure they don't burn, wishing I had made it to Publix today so my kid would not be eating processed meat while husband slips in the house from work and goes upstairs to get on the computer.

Commercial- Mothers who look and act perfect in a life that appears perfect with perfect children, perfect husband, and even a perfect cat that doesn't shed.

My Reality- A not-so-perfect mother who has a not-so-perfect life, a daughter who brings her dandelions from the yard, a husband who expresses his gratitude in his own ways, and a cat... we're still working on that.

And I wouldn't trade it for any card or diamond necklace in the world.

On second thought, how big is the diamond?

Time to tighten the grip

So, Miley is embarrassed about a photo shoot today.

I don't blame her. I've seen a preview; I'd be embarrassed, too.

Honestly, I feel really bad for Miley.

She's only 15 years old. The world is going to hate the possibility of her turning out to be Okay. "Okay" doesn't make headlines. "Okay" doesn't sell photos of stars leaving rehab or getting arrested.

The world doesn't want her to be "Okay" and they are going to do everything they can to ruin her.

But, her family? Her family is there to protect her.

I hope.

Here's something to think about-

When you were 15 years old, if the most famous photographer in the country wanted to give you the full beauty treatment- make-up, hair, designer clothes- and take your picture for one of the most famous magazines in the world, wouldn't you jump at the chance? Wouldn't it make you feel special, wonderful, like a princess?

Now, what would your mom and dad say?

Tip for the Day

When you are at a friend's house and she talks you into jumping on the kids' trampoline with the kids and you have to be hoisted up like an old lady in order to get on the thing because you are short and old and your friend is really tall, and then your friend actually starts jumping and you decide to be hip and cool so your daughter won't think you are a nerd and you start jumping too, and then all of you start to laugh really hard, be sure you go to the potty first.

Hypothetically speaking, of course.

;>)

Free Sample Day

Warning: The post you are about to read may contain terms not suitable for people with a full bladder.

Today I went to the doctor with a friend. Going to the doctor is never fun and waiting for the doctor is even worse. Seinfeld once said something like this- The smaller the room is, the closer you know you are to seeing the doctor. First, you start in the large waiting room, then a smaller holding room, then the last, tiny room where you have to sit on that very thin sheet of paper that is supposed to protect you from HEAVEN ONLY KNOWS what is growing on that vinyl exam table.

Those weren't exactly his words because, you know, his were much better because he is, you know, funny.

But, you get the picture.

So we were sitting there in the doctor's office waiting for my friend's name to be called. This was no ordinary doctor, this was a urologist.

Think about the people who go to a urologist most of the time. People with bladder problems, people with enlarged organs of a specific type (not going there.)

OLD PEOPLE.

And let me just say now before I ramble on that this particular urologist's office has a huge fish tank with a filter that makes a trickling sound so that people with bladder issues can sit there in old, uncomfortable polyester-cushioned seats and stare at a gigantic container of water and listen to the trickling.

Is this some kind of strange urologist joke?

My friend was finally called back and as I waited, I decided to read my copy of Gone With The Wind. Yes, a Southern blogger reading Gone With The Wind. How's that for cliche'?

I was the only one in the room, with Megyn Kelly from Fox News talking in the background, when an older man walked in. He was wearing shorts and his socks were pulled up high. After he checked in at the desk, he took a seat.

Right next to me.

There were at least 10 other perfectly good seats in the room.

My husband says "old people like to talk to you." He is right. No matter where I am, the retirees love me. Whenever I am at the grocery store, they ask me how to find an item. I am usually very nice because I wonder how my grandmother would have felt if she needed help. Plus, one day I know I'll be old and I hope some sappy woman will help me find my prunes.

Old people never talk to my husband. He must give off a strange, non-mothball aura. The truth is that he has a scary look on his face which says, "Don't talk to me. Ask my wife or I'll snatch that free sample right out of your hands."

So, today Mr. Knee Socks sat next to me and immediately started talking...

"Who are you going to vote for- Hillary or Obama?"

(Um, wha??")

"Oh, you have to vote for Hillary. You're a woman."

"I am voting for McCain."

(gasp and scowl of disappointment)

It is usually at this point that I would change the subject. I was taught not to bring up politics or religion with a stranger. It is just considered rude, but because this man is obviously not an elderly gentleman, I decide to go with it...

"I don't vote for anyone based on whether they are a woman or a man. I don't care what they are. I vote for the best person. Besides, I'm Republican. I don't agree with the Democratic Party at this time."

"Well, he probably is the one who is best prepared..."

I then attempt to bury my head deeper into the story of Scarlett and the Wilkes' barbecue, hoping that this man will take a hint. Or at least he would just leave me alone because I'm a Republican and a woman with a brain and I can tell he doesn't like either of those.

But, no...

"Look at these glasses. How much do you think I paid for these glasses?"

"I have no idea."

(bury head in book)

"Take a guess."

"I said I don't know."

"Guess!"

"Several hundred dollars."

"No."

"I don't know. Five hundred."

"Not that much! Three hundred and they are worthless. Look at that! Now, I have to get them fixed... What time do you think the pharmacy opens at Wal-mart?"

"It's open right now and the line is really, really long so you'd better go so you don't have to wait."

Okay, I didn't exactly say that, but I soooo wanted to.

He got up from his seat and I just knew I was about to be freed from this torture. I looked at the poor fish in the trickling fish tank with complete empathy. Then the man walked over to the receptionist's desk and asked a question.

"How can I get some free samples?"

Oh, yes he did.

Guest Contributing...

I'm over at The Cafe today.

Be sure to stop by for a visit!

Bite Back

There's a serious buzz going on in the blogosphere today. One that can help save lives.




Malaria is an overwhelming problem in other countries; it kills children every year. This is preventable with mosquito nets, but these kids don't have mosquito nets.

That's what the buzz is all about. You can help purchase a $10 mosquito net for a child in Africa through the Bite Back Campaign. (That's about 5 Grande Mochas or 4 Happy Meals.)

The great thing is that it is handled by Compassion, and you know that's a good thing. You can donate any amount or promote Bite Back on your blog.

For more about Bite Back and what Compassion is doing in Africa, see Sophie and Shannon.

We can soooo do this!

Works For Me Wednesday: Salsa

No time to make homemade salsa?

Grab a jar of your favorite salsa or picante, add some freshly chopped cilantro and a little fresh lime juice. You won't believe how great it tastes!

For more restaurant flavor, warm your tortilla chips on a cookie sheet in a 300 oven for about 5 minutes or until hot (just keep an eye on them so they don't burn.)

For more tips this week, see Shannon.

Update for Baby PJ

Praise God that Baby PJ was born yesterday!

He is very small and in the NICU, but is doing well. Mom is recovering, too. Please continue to pray for him. He will have to remain in the NICU for several months.

Thank you!