Thursday, August 31, 2006
Mama Mia!
I was flipping my pizza dough in the air and my pizza meme landed below the Monkeys post. Go figure. I guess I didn't change the date before publishing! Scroll down to read. Sorry guys! :>)
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Hey! Hey! We're The Monkeys!
A whole lotta sea monkeys jumpin' on the bed.
Some stopped swimming and then they were dead.
Three little sea monkeys jumpin' on the bed.
One felt sick and then he was dead.
Two little sea monkeys jumpin' on the bed.
One went into a coma and then he was dead.
One big sea monkey jumpin' on the bed.
He kept flippin'
And talking to Wilson.
He kept going
And going and going and going and going...
Three new baby sea monkeys jumpin' on the bed.
One Mommy- thankful that they all aren't dead!
Some stopped swimming and then they were dead.
Three little sea monkeys jumpin' on the bed.
One felt sick and then he was dead.
Two little sea monkeys jumpin' on the bed.
One went into a coma and then he was dead.
One big sea monkey jumpin' on the bed.
He kept flippin'
And talking to Wilson.
He kept going
And going and going and going and going...
Three new baby sea monkeys jumpin' on the bed.
One Mommy- thankful that they all aren't dead!
Mama Mia!
It's A Pizza Meme
I was tagged by Mommy Dearest @ Home Sweet Home for a pizza meme. It seems it originated from a pizza box!
What was your favorite thing about being a kid? Still being able to swing and not feel like I need to throw up.
What was your favorite subject in school? English, Science. And I majored in Psychology at one time. Definitely not Math. I love learning, but I don't like learning that involves counting.
Who was your best friend when you were 10? I had two best friends- Janet and Sherry. I can honestly say we never left anyone out. It was the only time I really had two best friends at once. It may have had something to do with the fact that we were Charlie's Angels.
If you could be any animal what would you be? Mommy lion. If I could be my pet cat Maggie right now, that would be the life, too. She is treated like royalty, even if she is weird.
What would you change about your school, occupation, life right now? I would be thinner, stronger, faster... with super powers to fight Spandex Girl.
What's your favorite color? pink!
What's your favorite type of crust and favorite topping on a pizza? Thin crust with artichokes, garlic and mushrooms. And a mint.
I may be the last one of the free bloggy world to do this pizza meme. If you haven't done this one, leave a comment. I would love to read it!
I was tagged by Mommy Dearest @ Home Sweet Home for a pizza meme. It seems it originated from a pizza box!
What was your favorite thing about being a kid? Still being able to swing and not feel like I need to throw up.
What was your favorite subject in school? English, Science. And I majored in Psychology at one time. Definitely not Math. I love learning, but I don't like learning that involves counting.
Who was your best friend when you were 10? I had two best friends- Janet and Sherry. I can honestly say we never left anyone out. It was the only time I really had two best friends at once. It may have had something to do with the fact that we were Charlie's Angels.
If you could be any animal what would you be? Mommy lion. If I could be my pet cat Maggie right now, that would be the life, too. She is treated like royalty, even if she is weird.
What would you change about your school, occupation, life right now? I would be thinner, stronger, faster... with super powers to fight Spandex Girl.
What's your favorite color? pink!
What's your favorite type of crust and favorite topping on a pizza? Thin crust with artichokes, garlic and mushrooms. And a mint.
I may be the last one of the free bloggy world to do this pizza meme. If you haven't done this one, leave a comment. I would love to read it!
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
A New Song
One year ago...
I was in my home, four walls standing, a roof over my head.
The sun was shining outside, not a cloud in sight.
My power was on. My house was nice and cool. My water was clean. The food in my refrigerator was fresh.
That night, I tucked my child in bed. She slept soundly, holding her favorite stuffed animal.
But, in a place that seemed to be so far away, yet just down the road...
The wind blew. The waves came. And the rain seemed to never stop.
The air was hot. humid. heavy.
People cried out because they were trapped. They did not leave.
The helicopter passed a man holding a sign- "Help Me."
And all I could do was watch. Pray. And cry.
Days and nights went on. The suffering continued.
Many perished.
Those who survived returned to destruction. No walls. No food. No water. Just total, overwhelming sadness.
But, one morning the veil of suffering was torn.
I was in my home, four walls standing, a roof over my head.
The sun was shining outside, not a cloud in sight.
My power was on. My house was nice and cool. My water was clean. The food in my refrigerator was fresh.
That night, I tucked my child in bed. She slept soundly, holding her favorite stuffed animal.
But, in a place that seemed to be so far away, yet just down the road...
The wind blew. The waves came. And the rain seemed to never stop.
The air was hot. humid. heavy.
People cried out because they were trapped. They did not leave.
The helicopter passed a man holding a sign- "Help Me."
And all I could do was watch. Pray. And cry.
Days and nights went on. The suffering continued.
Many perished.
Those who survived returned to destruction. No walls. No food. No water. Just total, overwhelming sadness.
But, one morning the veil of suffering was torn.
The Light was shining. His Truth was told. His Love was shown. His Church went forth and fed the hungry, sheltered the homeless and clothed the naked.
Hope filled the space that had once been filled with sadness.
"I waited patiently for the LORD to help me,
and he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire.
He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along.
He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see what he has done and be astounded.
They will put their trust in the LORD."
Psalm 40:1-3 (New Living Translation)
People are still waiting, healing. God's people are still reaching. And, the world is still watching.
Psalm 40:1-3 (New Living Translation)
People are still waiting, healing. God's people are still reaching. And, the world is still watching.
Please remember the victims of Katrina in Mississippi, Alabama, and Louisiana by giving through your church's ministries. You can also visit the following links to find out other ways to help our country prepare and respond when disaster strikes. I have personally witnessed what The Church can do when disaster strikes.
God's people are the hope of the world in times like these.
The American Red Cross
Southern Baptist Disaster Relief
United Methodist Church Committee on Relief
The American Red Cross
Southern Baptist Disaster Relief
United Methodist Church Committee on Relief
Monday, August 28, 2006
What's In A Name?
Barb, over at A Chelsea Morning is challenging us to explain how we chose our blog's name.
So, here goes.
My dear friend Nancy at The Ultimate Creator and My Many Impressions encouraged me to start a blog. She had started two blogs- one for her business and one for personal use. Nancy knows how much I love to write and just be silly, so she thought this bloggin' nonsense would be right up my alley. (I say nonsense because most of what I post doesn't make a lot of sense.)
Finally, one day I sat down at my computer, logged on, and began to, like Pooh, "think, think, think." I knew that I would write about The South, my family, silly stuff in life, and about my faith in God. I can be serious from time to time, but most of what I write is at least an attempt at humor. That just comes more naturally to me than profound embellishments of magnolias and mint juleps. (Can you see where this is going?)
Most of my life, thankfully, has been filled with laughter- the laughter of my friends, family, extended family, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th cousins, and stray dogs under Granny's house. That is why my blog isn't loaded with mush. Laughter has always been the medicine for me, although Zoloft and Effexor work pretty well, too.
Back to the name.
I love Mary Engelbreit. Her art has always inspired me. It makes me smile. My favorite tote bag has one of Mary's works on it with a woman at her desk, feet propped up, straw in her mouth, and a view of the farm in the window. It also reads, "We Don't Care How They Do It In New York." So, while I didn't take Mary's creation, I was inspired by it.
Another thing you must know about me. I have never really cared about doing things just because that is how everyone else is doing things. If you ever really meet me, most likely you will know right at the start where I stand on things. I don't apologize for that. And, I also respect the views and convictions of others.
So, that is how it all came together. A little sassiness and a little southernness all in one. And, that is also how my old header came to be:
Being Southern has nothing to do with magnolias, mint juleps, and the mason-dixon line. Southern is a state of mind, a kind of soft, warm blanket that you wrap around your shoulders, rocking on the porch on a cool evening. It warms you. It comforts you. It just plain makes you feel better. And, no matter where you are from, you can embrace the Southern state of mind. So, come on and sit for a spell. There's always room for you on the porch.
You still have a Standing Invitation to sit on the porch. Have a seat in the swing. The chain creaks a bit and the neighbor across the street stares a lot. (We call her Mrs. Kravitz.) Just stick out your tongue at her and wave. She'll pull the drapes. Always works for me. ;>)
So, here goes.
My dear friend Nancy at The Ultimate Creator and My Many Impressions encouraged me to start a blog. She had started two blogs- one for her business and one for personal use. Nancy knows how much I love to write and just be silly, so she thought this bloggin' nonsense would be right up my alley. (I say nonsense because most of what I post doesn't make a lot of sense.)
Finally, one day I sat down at my computer, logged on, and began to, like Pooh, "think, think, think." I knew that I would write about The South, my family, silly stuff in life, and about my faith in God. I can be serious from time to time, but most of what I write is at least an attempt at humor. That just comes more naturally to me than profound embellishments of magnolias and mint juleps. (Can you see where this is going?)
Most of my life, thankfully, has been filled with laughter- the laughter of my friends, family, extended family, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th cousins, and stray dogs under Granny's house. That is why my blog isn't loaded with mush. Laughter has always been the medicine for me, although Zoloft and Effexor work pretty well, too.
Back to the name.
I love Mary Engelbreit. Her art has always inspired me. It makes me smile. My favorite tote bag has one of Mary's works on it with a woman at her desk, feet propped up, straw in her mouth, and a view of the farm in the window. It also reads, "We Don't Care How They Do It In New York." So, while I didn't take Mary's creation, I was inspired by it.
Another thing you must know about me. I have never really cared about doing things just because that is how everyone else is doing things. If you ever really meet me, most likely you will know right at the start where I stand on things. I don't apologize for that. And, I also respect the views and convictions of others.
So, that is how it all came together. A little sassiness and a little southernness all in one. And, that is also how my old header came to be:
Being Southern has nothing to do with magnolias, mint juleps, and the mason-dixon line. Southern is a state of mind, a kind of soft, warm blanket that you wrap around your shoulders, rocking on the porch on a cool evening. It warms you. It comforts you. It just plain makes you feel better. And, no matter where you are from, you can embrace the Southern state of mind. So, come on and sit for a spell. There's always room for you on the porch.
You still have a Standing Invitation to sit on the porch. Have a seat in the swing. The chain creaks a bit and the neighbor across the street stares a lot. (We call her Mrs. Kravitz.) Just stick out your tongue at her and wave. She'll pull the drapes. Always works for me. ;>)
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Taaaa Daaaaaa!
I love my blog's new look. Thank you, Susie at Bluebird Blogs for your wonderful creative design. It was a lot of fun to work with Susie. She is a talented lady. Be sure to visit her site if you are interested in just tweaking your blog, or maybe you would like the whole makeover.
Do you remember when you were little and you would go in your room, get all dolled up- fancy dress, new shoes and all? And, then you would run out in the living room to show off to your Mama and Daddy and say, "Taaa Daaa!" That's how I feel! I feel just like I'm wearing Mama's shoes and lipstick, and I am running out into your living room to say...
Taaa Daaaaa!
Do you remember when you were little and you would go in your room, get all dolled up- fancy dress, new shoes and all? And, then you would run out in the living room to show off to your Mama and Daddy and say, "Taaa Daaa!" That's how I feel! I feel just like I'm wearing Mama's shoes and lipstick, and I am running out into your living room to say...
Taaa Daaaaa!
Got My Head In The Clouds
This is my word cloud! Isn't it cool? I was so tickled to see bologna, Georgia, Jesus, and strange! I apologize that Jesus and God are not capitalized. The font on the site didn't adjust for that.
I also found "mean melanie mint" a little funny. Sounds like a Mentos that could blow up a Diet Coke...
Check out this site to make your blog's word cloud.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Sea Monkey Update
And, there's still one.
You thought it was the wake, didn't you?
No, but I thought I owed you a sea monkey update. Being that most of you have shared your fondness of the little shrimp and all.
Our lonely guy is still swimming around. I moved him to my T-Rex desktop desk so I could watch him. More proof that I should get out more.
To tell you the truth, he kind of inspires me- swimming his loopty loo's, plugging along in his little plastic home with the fake coral reef at the bottom. Here's a guy/girl/whatever who could just give up. I mean, his entire family is dead at the bottom of the coral reef. He just keeps swimming and swimming. What stamina! What drive! And he doesn't even have a friend named "Wilson" to talk to.
Kind of makes me want to hug my own family, and play a little volleyball.
You thought it was the wake, didn't you?
No, but I thought I owed you a sea monkey update. Being that most of you have shared your fondness of the little shrimp and all.
Our lonely guy is still swimming around. I moved him to my T-Rex desktop desk so I could watch him. More proof that I should get out more.
To tell you the truth, he kind of inspires me- swimming his loopty loo's, plugging along in his little plastic home with the fake coral reef at the bottom. Here's a guy/girl/whatever who could just give up. I mean, his entire family is dead at the bottom of the coral reef. He just keeps swimming and swimming. What stamina! What drive! And he doesn't even have a friend named "Wilson" to talk to.
Kind of makes me want to hug my own family, and play a little volleyball.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Our Family's "Marilyn"
Remember Marilyn Munster? Everyone has a Marilyn. Ours is Maggie.
Maggie is, in pet politically correct terms, shall we say... strange. She is not that bright either. She thinks she is a dog, at least she acts like one. When we go to bed at night she cries for us. We are pretty sure she cries when we leave and she greets us at the door when we come home.
She is totally cat in one regard- It is all about her. We are here for her needs. Totally. No doubt about it.
The only time she remotely acts like she is serving our needs is when she catches a "mouse." Rest assured that we are not being overcome by small rodents. This ain't New York. But, it ain't Green Acres either. No barns. No barn animals. And, no Mr. Haney.
But, Maggie, bless her heart, doesn't know any better. She still has a little bit of mama cat instinct in her. So she hunts at night for her kittens' food. I am a little concerned that she thinks we are her kittens, being that we are a lot bigger than her and a totally different species and all.
When my daughter was small, Maggie would cry at night until one of us got up out of bed, found her in the darkness, and then praised her for the "mouse" she caught- a tiny, baby sock. As our daughter got bigger, the "mice" did, too. We don't get out of bed, but now we call out to Maggie in the night and yell, "Good, Maggie! Did you catch a mouser? Good job!" until she stops crying.
The next morning we find the mouse- a sock. I do try to keep things straight around the house, but ya'll know how socks seem to just disappear. They find their way under sofas, behind chairs, and in between the washer and dryer. Somehow a sock manages to break free and Maggie finds it.
Now to the "cry." It isn't really a cry as much as a dreadful wail. She sounds like she is in pain. And then she talks. She could win us a huge prize on America's Funniest Home Videos if I could ever catch her on tape. Inevitably, as soon as I grab the video camera, she stops talking and just flops over in a massive ball of lazy fur. It's a lot like that frog on Bugs Bunny.
When she meows, her meow comes out as "Wik-KOWWW!" That is the feed me now or else I will wake up the neighbors meow. But when she finds a sock, she says "Carolllll" or "Howarrrd." We have no idea who Carol and Howard are. Maybe they lost a sock.
Last night Maggie started hunting early. I was reading a story to my daughter. We heard Maggie begin wailing and then we heard,"Carolllll. Howarrrddd."
As usual, I called out "Good job, Maggie! You found a mouse. Good job."
My daughter said, "Mommy, do you think Carol and Howard are married?"
"I don't know. I guess they are," I answered, and I just kept reading.
Now, who do you think is the weird one of the family?
*photo courtesy of Munsters.com. Check out the site and listen to the theme song!
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
If I Could Design Bloggity Bumper Stickers
1. Christian Blogger On Board
2. Honk if you read BooMama
3. What part of html don't you understand?!
4. My other vehicle is a Mac
5. I post. Therefore, I am.
6. Bloggers Rule. My Spacers Drool.
7. I Love Mr. Linky
8. How many times have you checked your site meter today?
9. What blogroll are you from?
10. Have meme. Will post.
11. Just Say "NO!" to the Anonymous Comment Robots. Support Word Verification.
12. Proud participant of the Tour of Homes
13. How's my driving? To comment, go to my URL. Registered users only.
1. Christian Blogger On Board
2. Honk if you read BooMama
3. What part of html don't you understand?!
4. My other vehicle is a Mac
5. I post. Therefore, I am.
6. Bloggers Rule. My Spacers Drool.
7. I Love Mr. Linky
8. How many times have you checked your site meter today?
9. What blogroll are you from?
10. Have meme. Will post.
11. Just Say "NO!" to the Anonymous Comment Robots. Support Word Verification.
12. Proud participant of the Tour of Homes
13. How's my driving? To comment, go to my URL. Registered users only.
Bloggers: Please be aware that this is a family friendly blog. Comments with inappropriate language, even using abbreviations, will be deleted. If your site refers to witchcraft or any other subject offensive to the author of This Ain't New York, your comment will be deleted. This is not an exclusive club.
But, I must always Honor Christ on this web page.
Thank you!
What works for me is saving money. I was at Target today looking for some inexpensive jersey shorts for house cleaning, walking, or just running out to drop my kid off at school. I went to the Ladies' Active Wear Department to find something comfy and casual.
Most of what I found had at least 40 % of spandex or lycra. The only time I wear lycra on these hips is when I am wearing a shaping garment (formerly known as girdles) under a dress. And, most of the shorts were in the $12-15 range. I am sure they are cute for going to the gym. The rest of the shorts I found looked too much like men's briefs. This directed me to my best buy of the week-
I headed over to the Men's Active Wear Department and found some drawstring cotton jersey shorts for only $4.99. They are loose and comfortable, and affordable.
Now, that works for me! Blog on over to Shannon's for more tips.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
This Is What My Life Has Come To?
After yesterday's post, I was hoping that I may have something a little more positive to write about, something heartwarming, downright silly, something the least bit entertaining or slightly amusing.
Me, being the imaginary writer that I am, I either have something to write or I don't. I can't just sit down at the laptop or the old T-Rex desktop and just spew out a post. It just doesn't work that way.
It's a lot like trying to make yourself throw up. You either have to hurl or you don't. Otherwise, you just make yourself gag. And then the heaving...it just isn't pleasant. But if you actually do have to hurl, once you do, you just feel so much better.
I wish my high school English teachers could have understood this.
I cannot just write something because someone suggests it, or because Mrs. Literature Her Majesty stands in front of the class and says, "Today, class, we are going to write an essay. I want you to compare and contrast the papaya and the mango. You have exactly 25 minutes to do so. This essay is worth half of your six weeks' grade. Remember to write your name, the date at the far right corner, fold your paper in half, then again lengthwise, crease it nicely, or else I will take off 50 points for not following directions."
Real writing doesn't work like that. Real life doesn't work like that. And I am fairly certain that Walt and Ernest wrote on whatever scrap of paper they could find. They would have whittled it in the bark of a mighty oak if they were so inspired, and the trunk from that tree would be somewhere in the Smithsonian right now.
For you teachers and list makers out there, I know there are rules in life. There is order. Without order, there would be chaos. I know all of that. But sometimes rules are there for the teacher's survival. Let's just be honest about it. If it makes it easier for the teacher to grade 3000 essays in one night, why can't she just stand up in front of the class and be honest about it?
"Students, I am overworked, underpaid, and even less appreciated. Please fold your paper this way so that every waking moment of my life is not spent grading papers. It would make my life easier, and maybe, just maybe if I spent less time bogged down in paperwork and meetings, I may be able to teach you something worthwhile. Thank you. You get extra points for making me happy. And if the teacher ain't happy, ain't nobody happy."
I would have responded much better to honesty. Instead, I got the "speech." The speech about how I should fold my paper a certain way or else I would never learn the rules of life, the order of society, and never be able to survive college. You know, because college is the real world...ahem.
I digress.
I do actually have something to post about. I just had to get that out. Deep breath. I feel much better now.
So, I sat down to write and I heard my daughter cry. It seems we only have two Sea Monkeys left.
We have a friend who loves to send our daughter living things with short lifespans. I have raised an ant farm, butterflies, and now Sea Monkeys. Of course, this friend does not have children of his own, but, when he does, oh boy, the sweet revenge I have planned for him.
His latest gift is this family of Sea Monkeys. I don't know if the two remaining family members are Ma and Pa, brother and sister, or just a couple of first cousins. I don't know if they are mourning the loss of their relatives, swimming around in some Sea Monkey ceremonial funeral dance. All I know is that, when my daughter's tears began to flow, I had to explain the workings of nature, that sea monkeys do not live long, that it had nothing to do with the fact that we may or may not have underfed or overfed them. Thankfully, we still have two little guys swimming in there.
Here-I- am. Watching two brine shrimp do the Triple Lindy in a tiny, plastic tank.
And- reading- about- them- from- a- tiny- book. (I am not sure why the book has to be tiny, too.) Other people are reading C.S. Lewis and Robert Frost. But, I, the imaginary writer, am reading excerpts from The Amazing Live Sea Monkeys.
To top it all off, I decided to write about the experience for you, my adoring fan.
This profound thought-provoking post would not be complete without a few quotes from the tiny Sea Monkey book, which, I might add, is printed in English, Spanish and French. Apparently, the French are not as cultured as we are led to believe.
I promise you on my grandmother's Southern good name that I am not making this up! These are words of wisdom from our miniature sea monkey manual-
"Overfeeding is the most common reason for sea monkey deaths! This uneaten food consumes oxygen and causes the Sea Monkeys to suffocate, the poor little things. Better to have a skinny and healthy Sea Monkey than an over-fed one in a coma."
"In time, your healthy tank should have many generations of Sea Monkeys swimming around. Like a pool party celebrating your grandparents anniversary, the pool is filled with humans at all stages of life...just like your perfect little salty pets."
"Sad days may occur also. If all of your pets die, don't throw out the water in your tank... put the tank back into the light. In a few days, you should have a new batch of baby Sea Monkeys swimming erratically through the water..deja vu for you... Happy Days are here, again!"
I don't know about you, but I get a little teary just reading those words describing the life cycle of crustaceans. Pure literary genius. Elisabeth Kubler Ross could not have said it any better.
Yes! Sniff, sniff. Happy Days will be here again!!
Me, being the imaginary writer that I am, I either have something to write or I don't. I can't just sit down at the laptop or the old T-Rex desktop and just spew out a post. It just doesn't work that way.
It's a lot like trying to make yourself throw up. You either have to hurl or you don't. Otherwise, you just make yourself gag. And then the heaving...it just isn't pleasant. But if you actually do have to hurl, once you do, you just feel so much better.
I wish my high school English teachers could have understood this.
I cannot just write something because someone suggests it, or because Mrs. Literature Her Majesty stands in front of the class and says, "Today, class, we are going to write an essay. I want you to compare and contrast the papaya and the mango. You have exactly 25 minutes to do so. This essay is worth half of your six weeks' grade. Remember to write your name, the date at the far right corner, fold your paper in half, then again lengthwise, crease it nicely, or else I will take off 50 points for not following directions."
Real writing doesn't work like that. Real life doesn't work like that. And I am fairly certain that Walt and Ernest wrote on whatever scrap of paper they could find. They would have whittled it in the bark of a mighty oak if they were so inspired, and the trunk from that tree would be somewhere in the Smithsonian right now.
For you teachers and list makers out there, I know there are rules in life. There is order. Without order, there would be chaos. I know all of that. But sometimes rules are there for the teacher's survival. Let's just be honest about it. If it makes it easier for the teacher to grade 3000 essays in one night, why can't she just stand up in front of the class and be honest about it?
"Students, I am overworked, underpaid, and even less appreciated. Please fold your paper this way so that every waking moment of my life is not spent grading papers. It would make my life easier, and maybe, just maybe if I spent less time bogged down in paperwork and meetings, I may be able to teach you something worthwhile. Thank you. You get extra points for making me happy. And if the teacher ain't happy, ain't nobody happy."
I would have responded much better to honesty. Instead, I got the "speech." The speech about how I should fold my paper a certain way or else I would never learn the rules of life, the order of society, and never be able to survive college. You know, because college is the real world...ahem.
I digress.
I do actually have something to post about. I just had to get that out. Deep breath. I feel much better now.
So, I sat down to write and I heard my daughter cry. It seems we only have two Sea Monkeys left.
We have a friend who loves to send our daughter living things with short lifespans. I have raised an ant farm, butterflies, and now Sea Monkeys. Of course, this friend does not have children of his own, but, when he does, oh boy, the sweet revenge I have planned for him.
His latest gift is this family of Sea Monkeys. I don't know if the two remaining family members are Ma and Pa, brother and sister, or just a couple of first cousins. I don't know if they are mourning the loss of their relatives, swimming around in some Sea Monkey ceremonial funeral dance. All I know is that, when my daughter's tears began to flow, I had to explain the workings of nature, that sea monkeys do not live long, that it had nothing to do with the fact that we may or may not have underfed or overfed them. Thankfully, we still have two little guys swimming in there.
Here-I- am. Watching two brine shrimp do the Triple Lindy in a tiny, plastic tank.
And- reading- about- them- from- a- tiny- book. (I am not sure why the book has to be tiny, too.) Other people are reading C.S. Lewis and Robert Frost. But, I, the imaginary writer, am reading excerpts from The Amazing Live Sea Monkeys.
To top it all off, I decided to write about the experience for you, my adoring fan.
This profound thought-provoking post would not be complete without a few quotes from the tiny Sea Monkey book, which, I might add, is printed in English, Spanish and French. Apparently, the French are not as cultured as we are led to believe.
I promise you on my grandmother's Southern good name that I am not making this up! These are words of wisdom from our miniature sea monkey manual-
"Overfeeding is the most common reason for sea monkey deaths! This uneaten food consumes oxygen and causes the Sea Monkeys to suffocate, the poor little things. Better to have a skinny and healthy Sea Monkey than an over-fed one in a coma."
"In time, your healthy tank should have many generations of Sea Monkeys swimming around. Like a pool party celebrating your grandparents anniversary, the pool is filled with humans at all stages of life...just like your perfect little salty pets."
"Sad days may occur also. If all of your pets die, don't throw out the water in your tank... put the tank back into the light. In a few days, you should have a new batch of baby Sea Monkeys swimming erratically through the water..deja vu for you... Happy Days are here, again!"
I don't know about you, but I get a little teary just reading those words describing the life cycle of crustaceans. Pure literary genius. Elisabeth Kubler Ross could not have said it any better.
Yes! Sniff, sniff. Happy Days will be here again!!
Monday, August 21, 2006
Monday Madness!
Warning: This is actually a rant and rave, stomp my feet, one fist in the air and the other on the keyboard post.
I am sick. Sick. Sick. Sick. And very, very angry.
I am tired of watching the photo of the alleged killer of a precious, innocent child flashed across my television screen. I am tired of his smug look, his flat affect, and his dark eyes.
I refuse to print his name. The media has printed it enough.
I do not want to see anyone allegedly or even remotely associated with the brutal murder of a child, in custody or not in custody, sipping champagne and eating pate.
I do not want to hear about his life, his surgery, or anything else.
I do not want to hear his name in full- first, middle and last names- as if he is some sort of celebrity.
I want to see JUSTICE. I want to see a little girl's killer put away for life- whoever that may be.
I want to see her grieving father be at peace at last.
I want to see a mother's memory honored- a mother who suffered from cancer, then lost her life to the dreadful disease before her daughter's killer was brought to justice.
I want to see our country regard children as highly as we do stray animals.
I want to see mothers and fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers finally stand up and say, "We have had enough!"
I want to hear children laughing and playing, instead of crying from fear and abuse.
I want to hear about a neighbor who did call the police, and kept calling until someone saved a child from his abusive home.
Until then, I am turning off the news.
I am going to continue to get too involved. I will keep recieving Amber Alerts on my cell phone. I will keep an eye on the predator list. I will use the strength, courage and wisdom that God gave me. I will strive each day to be the arms of Jesus, holding my own child in love, and reaching out to each and every child I meet.
God, please be with us.
I am sick. Sick. Sick. Sick. And very, very angry.
I am tired of watching the photo of the alleged killer of a precious, innocent child flashed across my television screen. I am tired of his smug look, his flat affect, and his dark eyes.
I refuse to print his name. The media has printed it enough.
I do not want to see anyone allegedly or even remotely associated with the brutal murder of a child, in custody or not in custody, sipping champagne and eating pate.
I do not want to hear about his life, his surgery, or anything else.
I do not want to hear his name in full- first, middle and last names- as if he is some sort of celebrity.
I want to see JUSTICE. I want to see a little girl's killer put away for life- whoever that may be.
I want to see her grieving father be at peace at last.
I want to see a mother's memory honored- a mother who suffered from cancer, then lost her life to the dreadful disease before her daughter's killer was brought to justice.
I want to see our country regard children as highly as we do stray animals.
I want to see mothers and fathers, grandmothers and grandfathers finally stand up and say, "We have had enough!"
I want to hear children laughing and playing, instead of crying from fear and abuse.
I want to hear about a neighbor who did call the police, and kept calling until someone saved a child from his abusive home.
Until then, I am turning off the news.
I am going to continue to get too involved. I will keep recieving Amber Alerts on my cell phone. I will keep an eye on the predator list. I will use the strength, courage and wisdom that God gave me. I will strive each day to be the arms of Jesus, holding my own child in love, and reaching out to each and every child I meet.
God, please be with us.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
A Novel for Meme? Why, Bless Your Boggin' Heart!
Susanne tagged me for a meme. Being the prompt person that I am, I commented to Susanne that I would write the meme for yesterday's post. Well, being that there is no "yesterday's post," it will be today's post.
See, I am on medication. Not just my usual anti-depressant that keeps me on a smooth, slightly sane, mental plane. My allergies are giving me fits. I have a cough that mimics that of an old, tattoo- sporting, Winston smoking woman who hacks over the sneeze guard at Western Sizzlin.
To prevent my lungs from completely deteriorating, I woke up this morning, not so bright-eyed and bushy- tailed and took two Advil Cold and Sinus caplets. PLEASE READ THIS- The label recommends only one caplet. But, I have a very high tolerance to medication.
Example- When I was in labor, the nurse gave me a really goooood drug for the pain. The kind that makes you look around the room and see things dancing. The kind that makes you say things like "I love ya, man." or "DUUUDE!"
Right before she injected me with this blessing from the pharmacy, she said,"You may want to use the restroom. Most patients fall asleep before I even finish pushing this drug into their IV."
Such a sweet kid.
I told her that I was fine. My bladder was quite comfortable.
So, she gave me the medication. Not only did I NOT fall asleep, I continued to talk to her. She finished administering this blessing from the pharmacy and left the room in Shock and Awe. And, after she left, I felt much better and just kept talking to my husband.
AND NEVER EVEN FELT A TWINGE OF GROGGY. This tolerance to medicine is also a reason my epidural wore off. But no one believed me... that's another story.
Back to the tag- See I told you this medication might affect me. (or is it just an excuse?)
The Meme is This:
If you could write a novel about any subject, what would it be?
Just the subject, don't give away any plot ideas.
Considering that the above portion of this post could be a novella with a plot that goes absolutely nowhere, hmmm. Let me think...ok... here goes-
My novel would be about a completely fictional character, a woman, let's say. She grows up in the Deep South and has some of the weirdest relatives. Some of them are so strange that her family doesn't talk about it, unless it is in a whisper.
This woman is... let's say... fairly attractive, no, she is absolutely GORGEOUS! So much so that people have to turn away when she passes on the street. Kind of like staring at the sun. You could go blind. (Not sure if this is fiction or non-fiction. What do you think?)
The novel would be about her life in the tropics, sipping sweet tea, eating seven layer chocolate cake, and never gaining an ounce of fat. Quite the contrary, the more she eats, the more she radiates charm and beauty, and extreme intelligence.
Most days she is in her hammock solving world hunger, and writing peace treaties for nations across the globe.
The End.
Really. That's the end.
Never underestimate the creative power of decongestants.
I tag BooMama since she is under the delusion that she isn't a writer, and Nancy but wait for hers; she is trapped in dial-up land right now.
See, I am on medication. Not just my usual anti-depressant that keeps me on a smooth, slightly sane, mental plane. My allergies are giving me fits. I have a cough that mimics that of an old, tattoo- sporting, Winston smoking woman who hacks over the sneeze guard at Western Sizzlin.
To prevent my lungs from completely deteriorating, I woke up this morning, not so bright-eyed and bushy- tailed and took two Advil Cold and Sinus caplets. PLEASE READ THIS- The label recommends only one caplet. But, I have a very high tolerance to medication.
Example- When I was in labor, the nurse gave me a really goooood drug for the pain. The kind that makes you look around the room and see things dancing. The kind that makes you say things like "I love ya, man." or "DUUUDE!"
Right before she injected me with this blessing from the pharmacy, she said,"You may want to use the restroom. Most patients fall asleep before I even finish pushing this drug into their IV."
Such a sweet kid.
I told her that I was fine. My bladder was quite comfortable.
So, she gave me the medication. Not only did I NOT fall asleep, I continued to talk to her. She finished administering this blessing from the pharmacy and left the room in Shock and Awe. And, after she left, I felt much better and just kept talking to my husband.
AND NEVER EVEN FELT A TWINGE OF GROGGY. This tolerance to medicine is also a reason my epidural wore off. But no one believed me... that's another story.
Back to the tag- See I told you this medication might affect me. (or is it just an excuse?)
The Meme is This:
If you could write a novel about any subject, what would it be?
Just the subject, don't give away any plot ideas.
Considering that the above portion of this post could be a novella with a plot that goes absolutely nowhere, hmmm. Let me think...ok... here goes-
My novel would be about a completely fictional character, a woman, let's say. She grows up in the Deep South and has some of the weirdest relatives. Some of them are so strange that her family doesn't talk about it, unless it is in a whisper.
This woman is... let's say... fairly attractive, no, she is absolutely GORGEOUS! So much so that people have to turn away when she passes on the street. Kind of like staring at the sun. You could go blind. (Not sure if this is fiction or non-fiction. What do you think?)
The novel would be about her life in the tropics, sipping sweet tea, eating seven layer chocolate cake, and never gaining an ounce of fat. Quite the contrary, the more she eats, the more she radiates charm and beauty, and extreme intelligence.
Most days she is in her hammock solving world hunger, and writing peace treaties for nations across the globe.
The End.
Really. That's the end.
Never underestimate the creative power of decongestants.
I tag BooMama since she is under the delusion that she isn't a writer, and Nancy but wait for hers; she is trapped in dial-up land right now.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Thirteen Things My Grandmother's Generation Would Say About My Generation
1. That curio cabinet is just a glorified what-not stand.
2. Sushi? You mean you pay this much for bait and then you actually eat it? Well, I never!
3. God did not want you to expose your midriff for the world to see.
4. Speaking of exposing- What on earth was that Spears girl thinking? Her poor ole' mama.
5. Let me get this straight. You were in labor for how long, had access to narcotics, and you turned them down????!!!!!
6. Are you actually trying to pass off those frozen biscuits for homemade?
7. Never wear white after Labor Day. I- don't- care- what- Hollywood- says.
8. Don't be afraid of hard work. But, never let them see you sweat. You go ahead and glisten, girl.
9. Things you must have with you at all times- lipstick, face powder, Kleenex, and grace.
10. Remember, if God said it, that settles it, whether you believe it or not.
11. There are some things that should be left to the imagination.
12. There is a time and a place for all things.
13. This blogging stuff you girls are doing is about the silliest thing I ever heard of! When do you have time to get your hair washed and set on Fridays?
2. Sushi? You mean you pay this much for bait and then you actually eat it? Well, I never!
3. God did not want you to expose your midriff for the world to see.
4. Speaking of exposing- What on earth was that Spears girl thinking? Her poor ole' mama.
5. Let me get this straight. You were in labor for how long, had access to narcotics, and you turned them down????!!!!!
6. Are you actually trying to pass off those frozen biscuits for homemade?
7. Never wear white after Labor Day. I- don't- care- what- Hollywood- says.
8. Don't be afraid of hard work. But, never let them see you sweat. You go ahead and glisten, girl.
9. Things you must have with you at all times- lipstick, face powder, Kleenex, and grace.
10. Remember, if God said it, that settles it, whether you believe it or not.
11. There are some things that should be left to the imagination.
12. There is a time and a place for all things.
13. This blogging stuff you girls are doing is about the silliest thing I ever heard of! When do you have time to get your hair washed and set on Fridays?
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
My Works for Me today is a blatant product endorsement...
I just purchased Nichole Nordeman's latest CD Brave. It is fantastic. She has done an outstanding job on this CD- beautiful lyrics that inspire, encourage, and challenge. Crimson brings tears to my eyes, as does We Build.
Visit her website- http://www.nicholenordeman.com/
Really good Christian music is so hard to find. Nichole gets past the usual "praise and worship" repeat, repeat, and reaches the heart.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Fudge, Red Cabbage, and Meat Loaf
This is not my menu for dinner. I am actually cooking chicken leg quarters in a lot of butter, salt, and garlic powder. (Paula would be proud.)
My daughter is, as I type, watching "A Christmas Story" and it is about to get to one of my all time favor-ITE parts- the fudge part. You know, the part where Ralphie excitedly runs out to help his father change a flat tire and, right there on the side of the road, the lug nuts and the language go flying into the cold, winter night. He says the word, the one with all the dashes. They do spare us by Ralphie saying "Fudge" instead of the real thing. (Otherwise, my daughter would not be allowed to watch it, people! Did you think I had lost my marbles?)
This movie is one of my absolute favorite movies for so many reasons. I mean, it has to be. Why else would I blog about it in the middle of August? It is funny to me on so many levels.
A running joke at our house was born from the dialogue of this movie. Any time I have to get up from the dinner table to get something for someone at the table, inevitably the someone who requested the item will say, "Can I have some more red cabbage?" when I sit back down. Most of the time that someone is my husband.
This movie has made its way into my posts on several occasions. It ranks at the top of creative genius (in my book) right there next to Seinfeld. Yes, my name is Melanie, and I am a quote-aholic. Before you do an intervention, please know that I have seen "Cable Guy" more than once, and I know the bitter reality of dependence on virtual reality.
For the many times I laugh, snort, and try to keep from spewing my Diet Coke, there is one part that makes me smile sweetly-
When Ralphie beats the tar out of the bully. Not because the bully gets what has been coming to him for a very long time, but because 1) Randy gently picks up Ralphie's glasses and runs home to get their mom 2) Mom helps Ralphie up and does not get angry and 3) Mom lets Randy drink milk under the sink, honestly reports the fight to Dad, but does it in a way that Dad does not punish Ralphie severely.
See, I love this Mom. She understands her son's heart, (just as Dad does when he gives Ralphie that Red Rider.) Mom understands that punishment for fighting, in this instance, would not be good parenting. Mom knows Ralphie needs her love and understanding, her compassion. She doesn't lie to her husband. She just knows how to approach the subject at dinner as she dollops that spoonful of mashed potatoes on Ralphie's plate. This is a mother's love. And, this is one reason that I truly love this movie.
That, and the" You'll shoot your eye out" part. ;>)
My daughter is, as I type, watching "A Christmas Story" and it is about to get to one of my all time favor-ITE parts- the fudge part. You know, the part where Ralphie excitedly runs out to help his father change a flat tire and, right there on the side of the road, the lug nuts and the language go flying into the cold, winter night. He says the word, the one with all the dashes. They do spare us by Ralphie saying "Fudge" instead of the real thing. (Otherwise, my daughter would not be allowed to watch it, people! Did you think I had lost my marbles?)
This movie is one of my absolute favorite movies for so many reasons. I mean, it has to be. Why else would I blog about it in the middle of August? It is funny to me on so many levels.
A running joke at our house was born from the dialogue of this movie. Any time I have to get up from the dinner table to get something for someone at the table, inevitably the someone who requested the item will say, "Can I have some more red cabbage?" when I sit back down. Most of the time that someone is my husband.
This movie has made its way into my posts on several occasions. It ranks at the top of creative genius (in my book) right there next to Seinfeld. Yes, my name is Melanie, and I am a quote-aholic. Before you do an intervention, please know that I have seen "Cable Guy" more than once, and I know the bitter reality of dependence on virtual reality.
For the many times I laugh, snort, and try to keep from spewing my Diet Coke, there is one part that makes me smile sweetly-
When Ralphie beats the tar out of the bully. Not because the bully gets what has been coming to him for a very long time, but because 1) Randy gently picks up Ralphie's glasses and runs home to get their mom 2) Mom helps Ralphie up and does not get angry and 3) Mom lets Randy drink milk under the sink, honestly reports the fight to Dad, but does it in a way that Dad does not punish Ralphie severely.
See, I love this Mom. She understands her son's heart, (just as Dad does when he gives Ralphie that Red Rider.) Mom understands that punishment for fighting, in this instance, would not be good parenting. Mom knows Ralphie needs her love and understanding, her compassion. She doesn't lie to her husband. She just knows how to approach the subject at dinner as she dollops that spoonful of mashed potatoes on Ralphie's plate. This is a mother's love. And, this is one reason that I truly love this movie.
That, and the" You'll shoot your eye out" part. ;>)
Sunday, August 13, 2006
From The Outside Looking In
While sitting in church today, I noticed the pretty flowers on the Lord's Supper table. I read the inscription on the table to myself, "This Do In Remembrance Of Me." I have always gone to a Baptist church. I have visited other denominations with friends and family. But I am most familiar with Baptist churches. In every Baptist church I have attended, there has been a similar table with the exact same inscription. You will have to let me know if you have the same inscription on a table at your church's altar.
What dawned on me today was this- What would a person who had never stepped foot inside any church think when she read "This Do In Remembrance Of Me" on a day that isn't designated for The Lord's Supper? Any time I have seen that table where the words were visible, there has always been flowers on the table. The times the table was actually used for communion, the letters have always been covered up with a white table cloth. Just by looking at the table, the flowers, and the inscription, you could assume that we put flowers on the table in memory of someone.
It makes me wonder what "unchurched" people are walking away with. What if no one interacts with them, or worse still, is rude? What if they walk away totally confused? I know that the minister has a message. But, people notice more than just the message.
Some of the routines we have in church may be puzzling. And I wonder if we are doing a good job explaining it all. Or maybe we are just too focused on the routines, and not on the really important message of Jesus Christ.
I just don't know. What do you think?
What dawned on me today was this- What would a person who had never stepped foot inside any church think when she read "This Do In Remembrance Of Me" on a day that isn't designated for The Lord's Supper? Any time I have seen that table where the words were visible, there has always been flowers on the table. The times the table was actually used for communion, the letters have always been covered up with a white table cloth. Just by looking at the table, the flowers, and the inscription, you could assume that we put flowers on the table in memory of someone.
It makes me wonder what "unchurched" people are walking away with. What if no one interacts with them, or worse still, is rude? What if they walk away totally confused? I know that the minister has a message. But, people notice more than just the message.
Some of the routines we have in church may be puzzling. And I wonder if we are doing a good job explaining it all. Or maybe we are just too focused on the routines, and not on the really important message of Jesus Christ.
I just don't know. What do you think?
Saturday, August 12, 2006
Just Set It And Forget It
Most nights I am up late Swiffering the floors or blogging, or watching TV. After about 10:30 PM nothing is on, not even on HGTV, so I surf and surf and sometimes I just give up. I end up purposely watching cheesy commercials. Some of them are downright comical.
We are all familiar with the king of infomercials- Ron something-or-other. You know, the man who started this entire genre of advertising. His most memorable one is for the rotisserie oven. It looks so easy. All you have to do is impale a chicken, set the oven temp., and forget it! Really! He wants you to forget it! Only you can't forget it, because you are watching the chicken rotate over and over and over. I picture most people standing at their kitchen counter, staring at the bird, the succulent juices staying in the meat, while the fat is dripping to the bottom. It is absolutely fascinating, even mesmerizing. People have been hypnotized by it.
Ron's latest is for a set of knives that Emeril himself must have. "BAM! Watch me cut this tin can and then slice a tomato! BAM!"
These are not Ginzu's, folks. No, you will not see any kara-TAY on this commercial. A bona fide chef with a real chef's hat and apron actually uses these knives to cut the most unimaginable things- Bread! Cheese! Roast Beef! Have you ever heard of such? I am so glad they demonstrate for me because I, the ignorant consumer, would not be able to figure out how to slice bread without this incredible, educational segment.
My very favorite product advertised now is "Urine Gone." Yes, there are apparently millions of people out there with a urine stain problem. This product is so powerful that all you have to do is spray it on your carpet, your furniture, anywhere urine is an issue in your household and the stain disappears. And, get this, it even removes the smell!
Here is my thought on this product- If you have urine stains throughout your home to the point that you require a special product, maybe cleaning isn't your problem. Maybe you need to see a physician!
If you stay up long enough, there may be an infomercial for a unique urological formula that can eliminate your problem. Stay tuned... and have your credit card ready.
We are all familiar with the king of infomercials- Ron something-or-other. You know, the man who started this entire genre of advertising. His most memorable one is for the rotisserie oven. It looks so easy. All you have to do is impale a chicken, set the oven temp., and forget it! Really! He wants you to forget it! Only you can't forget it, because you are watching the chicken rotate over and over and over. I picture most people standing at their kitchen counter, staring at the bird, the succulent juices staying in the meat, while the fat is dripping to the bottom. It is absolutely fascinating, even mesmerizing. People have been hypnotized by it.
Ron's latest is for a set of knives that Emeril himself must have. "BAM! Watch me cut this tin can and then slice a tomato! BAM!"
These are not Ginzu's, folks. No, you will not see any kara-TAY on this commercial. A bona fide chef with a real chef's hat and apron actually uses these knives to cut the most unimaginable things- Bread! Cheese! Roast Beef! Have you ever heard of such? I am so glad they demonstrate for me because I, the ignorant consumer, would not be able to figure out how to slice bread without this incredible, educational segment.
My very favorite product advertised now is "Urine Gone." Yes, there are apparently millions of people out there with a urine stain problem. This product is so powerful that all you have to do is spray it on your carpet, your furniture, anywhere urine is an issue in your household and the stain disappears. And, get this, it even removes the smell!
Here is my thought on this product- If you have urine stains throughout your home to the point that you require a special product, maybe cleaning isn't your problem. Maybe you need to see a physician!
If you stay up long enough, there may be an infomercial for a unique urological formula that can eliminate your problem. Stay tuned... and have your credit card ready.
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