I-75 AKA The Real Reason Scarlett fled Atlanta

I think it was Dorothy who said, "There's no place like home."

I have no idea how she walked around in those uncomfortable looking, red sequin shoes, but she was so right.

We just returned from a long weekend getaway to Hotlanta. To be clear, I had fun. Lots of fun. But anytime we go out of town for more than, say... a day, I am ready to come home. I like my own bed. I like my own bathroom. I am just a teeny bit whiny when it comes to home.

This might suggest that one day we could be the um, proud? owners of an RV. But, no. My husband and I would then have to eat crow because we have made fun of every single RV on the Interstate.

Mostly, we like to make fun of the names of the RV's like "Roughing It Smoothly" (actual name, by the way.) The only reason I think we would ever purchase one of these recreational vehicles is just so we could park it in our relatives' yards and say, "Now that there's an RV."

But a funny quote from a National Lampoon movie is no reason to spend 100 grand on a motor home with a micro fridge and faux wood trim.

So we just stick with the hotels with free breakfast.

But I digress.

I grew up in South Georgia. From an early age, I was taught the dangers, the hazards, the horror stories, the urban legends. About the tragic endings of innocent, happy lives and about the special ones who were spared from it all.

I'm talking about Atlanta traffic.

People who do not live in Atlanta or the Metro area try, at all costs, to avoid it completely. I think that if you ask my Daddy, he could tell you how to get from Alabama to South Carolina through Tennessee just to avoid the Atlanta traffic and still make good time.

And if it's really good time, it would be railroad time. Yes, M'am. You have really done well to make railroad time. Seeing as how we were driving into Atlanta, Daddy, I am ashamed to say that we did not make railroad time.

We visited the Georgia Aquarium and World Of Coke, both of which I highly recommend (even though they are in the heart of Atlanta.) My husband is much more brave than I so he drove and I navigated.

I have found that when you are giving directions, if you don't really know what you are doing, keep unfolding the map. The more you unfold, the more competent you appear. Once the map is completely unfolded, you must then flick it a little, as if you are trying to straighten out the creases or just shake some sense into it. This really makes you look like you know what you are doing. If this doesn't work, tell the driver that it must be an old map and somehow the streets on your map do not match the streets in real life.

Because we all know that they change the streets in Atlanta on a daily basis. And that someone is working on the Guinness World Record for Longest Time To Complete Road Construction because I-75 has not been finished since the time we went to Helen when I was 8 years old.

I have to give my husband credit. He is sooooo patient. And I am a pretty good map reader, folded or unfolded. No one screamed. No one cried. No one died. These are good goals while driving in Atlanta.

The Aquarium was phenomenal. The layout was great. Unlike some museums or theme parks, every exhibit takes you back to a central location so you don't have to walk from one side of the attraction all the way to the next and then back again. Mr. Architect Designer Man- you are a genius. Please talk to the Disney people. Thank you.

The Georgia Aquarium is home to whale sharks, beluga whales, jelly fish, an octopus, and much more. There are a few hands on exhibits that my daughter loved. I loved the fact that there were guides pretty much everywhere reminding people to handle the animals gently. Although it is self-guided, there are plenty of people available to answer questions.

My daughter carried a little journal with her everywhere we went and documented what she saw. She even stopped to draw some of the creatures. It was so sweet and the journal will surely be a treasure for her to keep.

During our World of Coke visit, we sampled more soda than should be legal. They have flavors from across the globe. My favs were from South Africa. We also watched a small assembly line bottling Coke and then we were able to take one home for free as a souvenir.

One night we ate dinner at The Varsity Downtown. The Varsity has been around for decades and is the largest drive-in in the world. Their chili dogs and onion rings were fab. We topped ours off with a chocolate shake. Even though my husband referred to his dinner as a "gut bomb" he still said it was good.

While eating her own hot dog and fries, our daughter said,"What is so cool about this place?"

(sigh)

Hubs and I just laughed and told her she would think it was cool one day because it is famous and one day she will be watching a show about it on Food Network and say,"HEY! I've been there!" or ""HEY! My parents dragged me there once on vacation."

Her favorite meal was at Carrabba's. Not necessarily historical or regional, but they do bring kids a ball of pizza dough to play with while they wait on their meal. She carefully wrapped it and we brought it home with us.

We drove all the way to Atlanta for a ball of pizza dough.

We could've just stayed home and made railroad time.

Comment of the Week #5

This week's award goes to Carrie for her warning about infomercials. Yes, Carrie, I think I lost a few brain cells after all of those OxyClean commercials. But my laundry is impeccable. (wink)



"Sorry you had allergies last night, but really glad you found Field of Dreams... those infomercials could send you into a coma, if not kill you." - Carrie

He will hear you call out in the night.

We went to church tonight for prayer meeting. My daughter was in the other building singing her sweet little heart out and learning about God's Wonderful Word while we sat there among other believers making our requests.

Requests for prayer. Prayer for family, friends, people who are hurting, people who are healing, for somebody's mother, somebody's son, for our church and our community, for our nation, our military. The list went on and on.

Our pastor had us bow our heads and we prayed as we felt led, some of us silently and others aloud. As the saints poured out their hearts unto The Father, with eyes closed and heads bowed, we heard praise and petition, sobbing and sorrow. There we were. Together. In. His. Name.

In the midst of all of this power there was a peaceful quiet. As sorrows were revealed amid prayers to Him, our hearts broke for the people who are hurting, the people who are healing.

And I thought. This is how My Lord feels tonight.

Surely if this pain brings me to tears, His Precious, Loving Heart must ache at the sound of His children crying out.

I thought about the sound of my little one in the night, calling out from the darkness of her room, "Mommy... I need you." How I stretch with sleepy eyes and walk to her room to check on her and see what is wrong. A fear. An illness. Or a just because.

God is like that. He hears us in the night when we call to Him. Only He doesn't have to rub sleepy eyes or grab slippers in the night, because He never sleeps. He is always there, listening and watching over us.

God loves you. He hears your voice. You can call on Him day or night. In fear. In illness.

Or just because.

I don't FEEL smarter.

Funny thing. I keep eating Smart Ones and I still can't do Algebra. (The fact that I say "do" Algebra should be a clue into my mathematical skills or as Napoleon would say SKIIILLS.)

Seriously, I just finished the bite size portion of Asian cuisine (and I do use the term cuisine loosely) and now I am attempting to write a post.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Hmph.

Maybe they should call them Uninspired Ones.

Perhaps it is time for an interference.*

I have said before that my husband and I quote Seinfeld all the time. We can relate almost everything in life to Seinfeld.

And if you are not a Seinfeld fan, this post will leave you totally lost.

If you are, you will know I have lost it.

These were a few conversations we had yesterday...



After daughter asked for some soup.

Hubs said, "Did he crumble any crackers in it?"


During a discussion about skin cancer and how my mom kept me out of the sun as a child to prevent wrinkles later down the road...

"Mama never put sunscreen on me. Sunscreen came later when I was a teenager. It was all about the shade."

"And then there's Maude."

"That was a good episode."

"You gotta see the baa-bee!"

"When in fact a certain something is all that it should be and more."

"You know, Elaine, sometimes you say things just to be nice."

(CHUCKLING OUT LOUD)



While out to lunch at a Greek restaurant.

Hubs to the waiter- "The hummus and grape leaves are good."

Waiter- "Good."

Me- "Why are you telling him? I am sure he cares if our hummus was good."

Hubs-"Huh?"

Me- "Don't you remember when Elaine tells the waiter that the soup is good and Jerry asks why she would tell the waiter and that the waiter doesn't care if the soup is good?"

Hubs- "I don't remember that one."

Me- "I think it was Elaine. Maybe it was George. Anyway, it was funny."



I know. We need to get out more. ;>)


*Kramer- "Is this the interference?"

Jerry- "InterVENtion!"

Episode- The Pez Dispenser


For a link to all of this classic TV about nothing, click here.

At least I'm not allergic to corn.

I woke up about an hour ago after going to bed at 7:30. That would be before my child even thought of brushing her teeth. And before all the old folks thought of taking out their teeth.

Don't worry. Hubs tucked her in, so you don't have to call CPS on me.

It was about 7:00 when it hit me. It started as a sore throat. Then my head started to stop up with goodness knows what, one nostril, then the other nostril, then back to the first one. It just wouldn't make up its mind!

Allergies. Dreadful, mean and hateful allergies. They either make me sleepy or keep me from sleeping. And breathing.

So now I am awake in the wee hours of the morning, checking email and blogging. And watching every, single, low-budget infomercial ever made in film school 101.

Much to my surprise and shall we say, um, glee? I find Field of Dreams. Baseball and Kevin Costner when he still had hair.

If I could breathe, this could be heaven.

Scarecrows: Updated

Now they have names!

Thanks to Roxanne for naming my scarecrows.

Meet Daisy (Country Girl) and Camille (City Girl.)

And, just to be clear- I didn't make these from scratch. I bought some scarecrows, redressed them, and repainted their faces. It is actually pretty easy. Even if you don't repaint the face, you can update them and make them unique by throwing on a funny hat or old clothes.

Because you asked, here are the ladies on the porch having tea.

A Country Girl

and A City Girl





I'll bet they are talking about their blogs. ;>)

Craft Update

In case you were wondering...

The scarecrows are finished! Yeahhhh. I have a city girl and a country girl having tea on our front porch. It was fun.

Noah's Ark- ahem. Not so finished. We are given the choice of what theme to go with for our trunk and I chose Noah. My goal is to use a Bible story. That was a good, kid friendly one to me. Unless I can find some gopher wood, I may have to change my mind on the story.

We'll see...

Y'all have a good Sunday!

Well, don't I feel special?!

My sweet friend, Linda awarded me with this button after reading about the cubits and the crafts and the seasonal decor. Oh, the cubits, Linda! ;>)

Thanks for the lovely candied apples! They are much prettier than ones I would make AND no calories!

A Mom Remembers

Loni over at Joy In The Morning left me a comment after this post. Her son Matthew died nearly three years ago after participating in the choking game.

Please visit Loni's blog and leave her some words of encouragement, read her story and learn about others who have lost children to this deadly activity.

God Bless You and your family, Loni.

And Noah loaded the animals in the ark, one potato, two potato.

In the true blog tradition, I am going to share my day with y'all.

Here goes.

Try to stay awake, please.

This morning I painted a dolphin in my daughter's room. Her room is slowly getting finished, first with jellyfish, glow in the dark fish, and today a dolphin. It turned out pretty cute, if I do say so myself. Most importantly, she liked it. She also pointed out to me that all dolphins need a buddy.

I responded, "I know they do, but I was having a hard time fitting that one where he is, so you will have to be his buddy."

Next up- A sea turtle and a sting ray.

I am also in the middle of redecorating some scarecrows for my porch and I'm all tapped out of vintage clothes for them to wear. So I headed off to the local indoor flea market for some bargains and some inspiration.

Oh, and I have signed us up for this little thing called Trunk or Treat at church (more on that later) where we are expecting up to 1500 children. Yep. Can you say,"FREAK OUT?" Normally I have planned, sketched and started making something for this type of project by now but I am having difficulty with the logistics.

The theme I am going with is Noah's Ark. Has anyone out there every tried to turn the trunk of a Camry into an ark? Oh, the cubits!

So I'm at the indoor flea market hoping for a treasure, a gem, some tiny bit of inspiration among all the Elvis posters and the spoon rests that say "Florida." All I could find was a wooden box that said "Taters."

Taters do not inspire me. Unless I am eating the taters, then maybe the carbs could give me a surge of energy straight to my brain cells, inspiring me to build a boat full of animals out of a Toyota.

Or not.

I left the flea market with nothing. No treasures. No inspiration. No Taters. Nothing.

And that was my day.

Dangerous Activity Among Our Teens

Have you heard of The Choking Game?

It is a "game" kids are playing where they either choke a friend and then release them, or choke themselves and release the ligature. The goal is to feel a so-called high after passing out.

This activity is extremely dangerous and kids are dying across the country. Their friends are telling them it is safe and that "No one dies from passing out."

Take a minute to read about this deadly activity, its slang terms and warning signs.

The Nina, The Pinta, and The Day Off Of School

My daughter's friends were over yesterday playing and giggling and squealing and having a screaming contest (outside.)

They came inside to do some crafts at the kitchen table. The conversation turned to Christopher Columbus.

This conversation was overheard-

"Tomorrow is Columbus Day. Do you get the day off of school?"

"No. Do you?"

"No."

"Then why do we even learn about Columbus if we don't get the day off?"

"Yeah!"

You may award me with the Educator Of The Year Award now. Thankyouverymuch.

Comment of the Week #4

This week's award goes to everyone who commented on the WFMW Backwards Edition!



I asked for some new ideas for school lunch and y'all left some AWESOME suggestions. If you missed the post, take a minute to read through the comments for some great ideas for kids' lunches.



You guys are the best!

I imagine that Torre must have said,"This Ain't New York."

This is proof that Deet is your friend whether you are in The Deep South or at a Yankee's game in Ohio.

Girls, even your husbands will appreciate this article.

;>)

Why My Lawn Has A Mohawk

It was quite the celebration at our house.


An Extravaganza really.


The spaghetti sauce simmered in the crock pot all day, the house was cleaned from top to bottom, and then our much awaited "guest" arrived.

My husband is home.


Home? Did I even mention he was gone? No. The paranoid Praise the Lord and Pass the ammunition part of me would never divulge such information. Just think of me as that weird aunt who always locks her doors, watches America's Most Wanted and quite possibly has the tip line on speed dial. You know, that aunt. The crazy one. With all the cats.


Hubs has been out of town on business and it has been a real trial for us. There have been lonely moments and lots of tears. I have missed him so much. I've missed the little things about us- the silly Seinfeld jokes, the late night talks, and all of those blessings I often take for granted.


I've learned a lot. I've learned to depend on God and to trust myself with His help. I've learned how much I do not need my husband and how much I really do all at the same time. My love for my husband has grown.


Along with the grass.



Let me tell y'all about my history of lawn issues. I have never been afraid of "man's" work. I will check the oil and change a tire. Let's face it- sometimes changing a diaper can be much more difficult, not to mention dirtier. So, mowing the yard is nothing.



When we first married I bought a used mower. It was what I would call a starter mower. It was what my husband called a lemon. I bought it for fifty bucks thinking I had found a real bargain. After seeing it, my husband told me we had been ripped off. It required special attention. In order to start it, you had to hot wire it- literally. My husband specifically told me he did not want me to try to start the mower. The wires were much too close to the rapidly rotating blade and he was afraid I would lose some fingers in the process.



And I prefer to keep all my fingers.


Later on, when my husband went on a business trip and the grass just continued to grow and grow (despite all my efforts to stop it), I decided it was time to buy a new mower. I was all proud of myself until I realized I had to assemble it. All. By. Myself.



And I did it. And kept all my fingers. Look Ma! All hands!



This time when hubs left for his trip, I was prepared to cut the grass. The sweet neighbor's son mowed the smaller front lawn and I mowed the larger backyard.


With a push mower.



It should be called the "push with all your might and work your calf muscles into a twitching frenzy while the mower chokes and sputters to a stop because SWEET MERCY who on earth decided to plant this thick St. Augustine grass?" mower.



Not one, but two of my neighbors had pity on me as they watched me struggle to cut the grass that I had just cut a week ago, good grief! They kept begging and pleading with me to please use their self-propelled mowers,"Please! We can't stand to see you suffer any more."


All the while I was thinking to myself,"How much easier can it be? Seriously, how much better can a self-propelled mower work?"



Then I had a taste of the bittersweet moves-smoother-than-butter mowing goodness. I gave in and used the neighbor's mower.


To this push mower-







You are dead to me.



And to this self-propelled mower-

You are like the beacon in the night guiding this drifting ship into the house where the A/C is on and the tea is cold and sweet.

I love you. Almost as much as my husband.

Works for Me Wednesday: Backwards Edition

Genius Shannon has come up with another brilliant idea- For this WFMW, we ask a question and the reader leaves tips in the comments.



Here is my latest dilemma-



What are some creative school lunches? My daughter does not like sandwiches and it is getting tougher and tougher to be creative and healthy. During the cooler months, I send soups and the like in a thermos.



Any other tips that do not require a thermos?



Visit Shannon for more WFMW!



More later on the suspenseful "guest." I promise! :>)

Update- Amber Alert

Alyssa Frank has been found safe. Praise God!

Please continue to pray as law enforcement searches for the suspect.

A little explanation is in order...

If I seem to be "out of sorts" or more weird than usual, or if you are wondering why my posts have been extraordinarily boring lately, it is because I am awaiting the arrival of a very special guest, so to speak. (No, I am not expecting a baby!)



One could say I have been a bit preoccupied with things like house cleaning and grocery shopping.



And let me tell you that I do not occupy myself with those things very often.



More later...



In the meantime, you have to read about Linda's celeb encounter. I tell ya, I am starting to think I should move to Muncie.

Car Seat Safety: Kyle David Miller Foundation

Most of you have probably seen the video warning parents about the dangers of some car seats for young children, urging the use of a 5 point harness.



Kyle's parents now have a foundation in honor of him, hoping to reach more parents and save children's lives.



Take a look at the great things being done.

Our hearts go out to the Miller family for their loss. Thank you for reaching out to others in the midst of your own tragedy.

Comment of the Week # 3

The Comment of The Week was in response to this post. The award goes to The Diaper Diaries and honestly, the award goes to her daughter for the great quote below...


"Great questions. I have to say I was flipping channels and came across Days Of Our Lives which I haven't watched since high school (which was, let's just say, a while ago, or more accurately-Marlena as the devil ago). I swear I could have started watching again without missing much.

I did notice Patch was back.

My daughter was in the room and said, "Why is there a pirate on this show? Is he going to say Argh?"


I have to say we could use a few more pirates on daytime TV. ;>)

Your Cell Phone Could Save A Child

If you own a cell phone, take a minute to read this.

Sign up for Amber Alerts on your cell.

The text message you receive while you are out running that errand or stuck in traffic could save the life of a child.

Go now.

Thank you-

A little list that we all could do without.

I hate lists, but when you're in a writing funk, a list can be your best friend.

Your very best friend.

So here is what I have been doing this week while not on my soapbox. In list form...

1. Trying to reach the troop leader, a responsible Girl Scout representative, anyone in brown or green with a vest full of patches.

2. Painting sea life on my daughter's walls. It is turning out to be so cool that I may just move in there. I am using glow-in-the-dark paint to highlight the jellyfish and I even painted a school of fish that only show up in the dark. She calls it "the secret school of fish."

Next on the painting list- a sea turtle

3. Trying not to melt from the sweltering heat. And isn't it almost October? Sweet mercy.

4. Planning a lesson for my 4 and 5 year olds' Sunday School class. I am loving teaching them!

5. Looking for clothes in all the wrong places for a pair of scarecrows I plan to put on the porch. Right now they are dressed and painted but I am going to make them my own by repainting their faces and dressing them in some fine, thrift shop apparel. (I have made one before and it was so fun.)

6. Did I mention I love anything remotely crafty?

Y'all have a fun weekend. Crafty or not crafty!

Thirteen things I wish I could put on my refrigerator

1. My daughter's smile.

2. The feeling I get when I see her do the right thing when she doesn't know I am looking.

3. Her spontaneous hugs.

4. A Fall day outside when we find leaves or just decide to dig in the dirt.

5. The moment we released a butterfly after watching it grow as a caterpillar and form a chrysalis.

6. The look on her face when her Daddy comes home from work.

7. The moments she tells me how much she loves Jesus.

8. The peacefulness of her sleeping.

9. The sounds of giggles as she plays with her sweet friends.

10. The scent of her soft, baby hair after a bath.

11. The overwhelming, drowning joy just moments after her birth.

12. Every card, every drawing, every Play-doh sculpture she has ever made.

13. The humble gratefulness to God for giving me just a moment with one of His precious children.

More Stuff I Don't Understand: Boring Edition

Other than the fact that I am in a bit of a writing funk and am a bit loopy from sinus medication, I really have no other excuse for this pitiful post.

Except that I am, in fact, very strange.

But most of you have figured that out by now.

Here are a few world-changing, life-enriching issues that have kept me up at night. (Not really. I blame blogging and HGTV for that.)

1. Why is it that my my make-up bottle promises to reverse the years and turn back time, but it always seems to take me back to when I was in high school or last month when a hormonal surge caused my face to become a photo-op for Proactiv Solution?

2. Why hasn't the school playground run out of sand? It seems that all of it has ended up in my car. How does the sand spontaneously replenish beneath the swings but will no one will spontaneously vacuum it out of the backseat of my car?

3. Why must children automatically turn their shoes upside down after taking them off? Is it like the "bread will always fall butter side down" theory? Does gravity make a Nike shoe tip instantly and spill sand and small pebbles into my car or my living room floor?

4. Why is it that my cat will spend all of her waking hours grooming herself but she will not even attempt to cover the awful prize she has left in her litter box?

5. Why must the Brady family fight the DiMera family all on their own? Hasn't the Salem Police Department ever heard of the FBI?

I'm just sayin.'

Bullies don't get invited to birthday parties.

A follow-up to this post.

Mrs. Johnson's third grade class knew all about Johnny.

He had picked on Susie, had a few of his bully friends beat up Bobby, and he had threatened the entire Kindergarten class. Nobody liked Johnny. He was just plain mean.

Johnny went to another school across town. The kids in Mrs. Johnson's class heard that Johnny and a group of mean kids had vandalized the neighborhood. In fact, they were pretty sure that Johnny had stocked an entire arsenal of dirt clods and slingshots in his own backyard. No one really had proof, but everyone just knew.

One day, Billy, a little boy in Mrs. Johnson's class, had a birthday party. It was supposed to be the best birthday party ever with balloons and prizes, a jumpy castle and Happy Meals for all. All of the kids in Mrs. Johnson's class were invited. Everyone was so excited.

Then Johnny showed up.

The kids were shocked.

But then they learned that Billy had invited Johnny.

Invited Johnny?

When Billy's friends asked why Johnny had been invited, this is what Billy said...

"Everyone in our class is so nice and Johnny is so mean. I want Johnny to see what it is like to be nice, to not be a bully. He should be at a party where everyone is allowed to play with all the toys and everyone gets a goody bag at the end. Just because Johnny doesn't have parties like that, doesn't mean I shouldn't invite him.

Johnny might learn something about being nice. And while he is here, we can ask him about all the dirt clods and slingshots he has hidden in his yard, and about the time we all heard he and his friends spray painted the neighborhood with graffiti."

One brave little girl stood up in the middle of the play area and said...

"Do you seriously think just because you invite Johnny to this party that he will act nice and learn how not to be a bully?

What makes you think he doesn't have a few dirt clods in his pocket right now? And what if a kid in our class decides to beat up Johnny at this party? What will Johnny do then? Will he use his bully power to get other kids in his neighborhood to come and beat up the kids at our school?

And what about us, Billy?

We are your friends.

Don't we matter to you?

What were you thinking, Billy?"

Then Billy said,"I don't know. All I cared about was the really cool presents."

So Mrs. Johnson's entire third grade class decided to be nice to Johnny at the birthday party. Everyone was on their best behavior. Billy gave Johnny the best seat at the party and let Johnny have the first piece of birthday cake. Even though Johnny said hurtful things to the other children at the party and lied about the dirt clods, he was allowed to be first in line at the jumpy castle and he was given the very best goody bag when it was time to leave.

Other classes heard about the birthday party and how Johnny had been invited, even treated like a guest of honor. They began to think that maybe, just maybe Johnny was not so bad. If Billy had invited him to his party and the entire class had been so kind to Johnny, then maybe Johnny was actually their friend. Maybe Johnny wasn't a bully after all.

And all the while, Johnny had gone back home across town, goody bag in hand, and returned to all of his mean, little bully friends. He and his friends were just as mean as they were before.

And they all had a good laugh about the birthday party while they made new dirt clods and slingshots in Johnny's backyard.

Freedom of Speech?

Whether you are reading this blog, the paper, watching Fox News, CNN or reading the Washington Post...

Whether you are listening to Talk Radio, a sermon, or the speech of a president- any president...

Remember that Freedom of Speech must come with responsibility.

As the listener of the speaker, you must also use responsibility.

You have a responsibility to consider the facts, all of them.

Consider the source.

Consider the motive.

And consider this-

That freedom is not guaranteed, only protected.

That freedom, like life, can be taken in an instant.

And that it is the lives of those protecting our freedoms that we must consider.

What will you choose to do with your freedoms?

How will you remember those who stand ready at this very moment to protect them?

How will you thank those brave ones?

Consider their freedoms.

Consider the overwhelming responsibility they shoulder each and ever day...

For you.

For me.

For our children.

For the people who love them.

For the people who hate them.

These brave ones stand ready to protect them all.

I ask you this-

Where is their Freedom of Speech?

Comment of the Week #2

The Comment Of The Week goes to...

Shannon @ Idylwild for her comment to this post.

"Oh, hon-eee. I dated Bud, too, only his name was (I am not making this up) Tater and the truck was green."

Hat tip to Shannon. John Deere Cap tip to Tater. :>)

Blueberry French Toast Bake

Updated to add-
Visit this website to purchase the entire cookbook with this recipe and many others like it. Thanks, Nancy for the link!

Fall is in the air and when it is, I love to have something warm and yummy for breakfast.

This morning I made this casserole for us and I wanted to share the recipe with you. It is from an awesome regional cookbook I have. Take the time to make the syrup. It is soooo worth it.

Blueberry French Toast Bake

one large loaf French bread, cubed
8 ounces cream cheese, cubed
8 ounces fresh or thawed frozen blueberries
2 cups milk
6 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter, melted
1/3 cup maple-flavored syrup
cinnamon to taste

Brown Sugar Syrup

1 cup packed brown sugar
1 cup heavy cream
1 cup light corn syrup
salt to taste

To prepare the French Toast-

Sprinkle half of the bread cubes in a greased 2 quart baking dish. Add cream cheese cubes and blueberries. Top with remaining bread cubes.
Combine milk, eggs and vanilla in a bowl and mix well. Pour over the layers in the baking dish and press down lightly to saturate bread with liquid. Combine butter and syrup in a bowl, mix well. Pour over the layers and sprinkle lightly with cinnamon.
Cover and chill at least 2 hours. (Overnight is great!) Bake at 325 for 30-40 minutes or until golden brown and bubbly.

To prepare Syrup-
Combine brown sugar, cream and corn syrup and salt in a small saucepan. Cook over low heat until smooth, stirring to blend well. Do not boil. Serve with French toast.

Kid Nation?

I know I am opening a can of worms, here, but I have to ask.

What do you think about Kid Nation?

If you are not familiar with the new reality show, go here to find out.

Personally, I find it cruel. Sure, it makes for good ratings and sure, kids are tougher and smarter than we acknowledge.

But, in a day when adult issues are forcing some of our kids to grow up faster than they should, we have to draw the line somewhere.

Let them be kids! Give them opportunities to shine as kids. That's what makes them so special.

Here's an idea. How about adults acting like adults. Hmmm....

Monarch Migration

Last Fall we observed an abundance of Monarchs migrating through our area. After searching the web, I found this great site where you can help track their migration.

Once you have a sighting, you can log it on the website. It is so amazing to see God's creatures traveling miles and miles to one safe and warm haven in Mexico.

You can also link to other migration sites like the whooping crane. Even if none of these creatures migrate through your area, you still will enjoy sharing their journey.

Have fun!

This One Is For The Moms

The original, unedited post was published January 10, 2007. I wanted to share this again because lately, I feel like we all need a little encouragement.


Let me give you a peek inside my world.

Before I had a child, I had a much cleaner house. I ate right, at least on occasion, and I sometimes even went for a walk and broke a sweat. Now, most of my sweating is a side effect of the anti-depressant I take or the pre-menopause that I am convinced I have begun. Yes, I am only 36 years old. Since having a child, I have much more fatigue, anxiety, brain fogs, and cellulite and much less fashion sense.

Ain't life just grand?

I would never, ever, in a 100 million years, ever go back to those former days if it meant that I would not be a mother. I absolutely adore my daughter and I am thankful for motherhood. Every night, when I tip toe in her room and look at her sweet face there nestled on her pillow and snuggled against her bunny, I say "thank you" to God above that He allowed me, undeserving me, to be her mama. I kiss my little girl's forehead and smell her sweet breath, thinking on the scent of her baby's breath, and the image of her resting peacefully in her crib. I pause and consider that these moments are fleeting, like a train leaving the station right there before my eyes.

I just wish I could be perfect.

Everyone has room for improvement, but I have room for an extreme makeover. From my organization skills to my culinary choices, the networks could do an entire mini-series on me.

I used to really beat myself up. Some days, I still do, but for the most part, I have decided that God made me the way I am. He certainly wants me to strive to be my best, but He wants me to be my best for Him, not for everyone else, and definitely not for am image that is plastered on TV, magazines and movies.

I've decided that I do have gifts and abilities that are worth sharing. I can remove stains that would make most people run away screaming. I have the insane ability to memorize phone numbers. In spite of the brain fogs, my mind is a steel trap when it comes to mothering memories and entire episodes of Seinfeld.

Go ahead. Quiz me.

I can make a chicken salad that my husband loves, an awesome pan of biscuits without measuring and I can create just about any casserole your heart desires with a vegetable, grated cheese, Hellman's mayonnaise, a can of cream of something soup and a pack of Ritz crackers. Look out, Rachael Ray.

In spite of all of these incredible, somebody-call-Guiness talents, I still feel a little down some days. Perhaps it is because I eat peanut butter from the jar or I forget to keep my eyebrows tweezed, or it's because my laundry appears to reproduce overnight. (Maybe this is a reason we are supposed to keep things separate.)

Yes, I am an average, under dressed, overweight mother of one. I have a lot of room for improvement, but I am learning to be more comfortable in my own skin, as saggy and acne-ridden that it is. Acne in my thirties. Who would have guessed?

When I am dead and gone and my husband has buried me after following the written instructions for my funeral that I have left for him in a special file in the filing cabinet, including songs and what to wear (for me and for him, yes, I'll still be picking out his tie), I hope my epitaph may read:

"Here lies Melanie. She never climbed Mt. Everest or took part in extreme sports. She never fit into her size 4 jeans again. She had no desire to travel to exotic parts of the world or launch into outer space. Her house was clean, but lived in. Her hair was combed, but her roots were visible. Her waist, well we don't know where it went.

But, her husband remembers her kisses and the smell of her perfume. As a wife, she tried her best to honor him, to support and share his dreams, and to always treat him like the man that he is. She made him lunch, not everyday, but now and then. When she did, she included a note on a napkin or a lipstick kiss. She may not have kept her college figure, but she always dressed and acted like a lady.

Her daughter remembers her hugs and the smell of Noxema on her face when she tip toed in her room to kiss her forehead. She pretended to be asleep sometimes, snuggling her bunny and feeling her mama's loving eyes watching over her. As a mother, Melanie told her daughter about Jesus and manners. She told her and showed her how to give to others. Her daughter can remember the murals on her bedroom walls, the times her mama sent cupcakes to school, went on field trips, and made crafts with the class. She remembers her Mama staying up late at night with her when she was sick, giving her yucky-tasting medicine and singing to her in the darkness.

Here lies, Melanie. She wasn't anything out of the ordinary. She was just a mom, just a wife, but she was special to those who loved her and to those she loved."

I hope you feel special today. You are special to many people around you.

Have an incredible, ordinary day.

You Might Be A Redneck's Girlfriend

When we went on our last road trip, we rented an SUV. Compared to my Mommy Camry, I felt like I was driving a tank. Let me tell ya. It was COO-WEL.

Yes, M'am. That was a niiiiice truck.

So now I've got the fevah for a new vehicle. I was feeling a little warm and clammy before, thinking about a new mini-van or a small SUV, but after driving a Chevy on I-75 alongside the diesels and the hummers, I am completely febrile for a new car.

Somebody give me a Tylenol.

All of the gas- guzzling, ozone-depleting, all-terrainness reminded me of a guy I dated in college, before I met my husband. I will call him "Bud."

My hubs loves to tease me about Bud because Bud was the typical redneck.

Bud spoke reaaallly slowwwwllyy. He was a real gentleman. He opened doors for ladies and even for women who didn't act like ladies. He loved his mama. But most of all, Bud loved his truck.

And Bud had a niiicce truck.

It was a red Nissan, always sparkling clean. You could picture a dog (probably a hunting dog) riding in this truck with his tongue hanging out, barking at people in BMW's at red lights. Bud didn't have a dog, but if he had, I am sure it would have gone out with us.

We only dated for a few months. Most of the time we would see a movie or go out for dinner. After dinner, we would always go shining for deer. If you don't know what that is, let me explain...

Shining for deer is illegal when used for hunting. I am not sure if it is allowed for cruising, or for taking your girlfriend out on a date. It is also not the kindest or most humane activity in the world. Shining for deer is taking a flood light or other bright light and riding along the edge of the woods, looking for deer.

I.E. Deer in the headlight

Now that you are beginning to have a mental image of us out blinding Bambi with a huge flashlight, let me add one more image.

Sometimes a truck with a bench seat does not have a cup holder, and even if it did, come on people, a redneck gentleman with a southern girl by his side? Seated on a bench seat out shining for deer? Now why would you even need a cup holder?!

Because I was the cup holder.

The dip cup holder.

I'm just helpful like that.

Yes, dip cup. We're not talking French Onion. We're talking about the carcinogenic kind- Skoal.

So you can see why Bud did not end up being The One. My Prince. My Knight In Red Shining Armor With Chrome Hubcaps. I mean, with all of that romance, a girl can only take so much!

If the mothers ruled the world...

Fox wouldn't have to edit out the foul words of an Emmy winner, or cut away from her speech on stage.

Troops and their mothers would not be used for anti-war propaganda.

No one would dishonor the life's work of a General.

But wait...

Mothers can "rule the world" because

it is the hand that rocks the cradle that rules the world.

Who or what rocks the cradle of your children?

Comment of the Week

Sometimes the comments are so much better than the blog material.



Today is the first Sunday I will award "Comment Of The Week."



Kudos to Steffj89 for her great comment to this post.



"We live far enough out in the country that my hubby gave me snake shooting practice....now I am not 100% sure where or when I will have call to use this...how do ya trap one in your house while ya go get the gun? and chances are if i am seeing one in the yard if the guns not on me I am too far away from him anyway.

The result of the snake shooting practice...if it had been a live snake rather than a garden hose it would have had time to eat a village before *I* actually shot it. I did ok with the rifle, but the pistol i am supposed to use??? i couldnt hit the tree 4 feet in front of me and its about 2 ft around....LOLOL" Steff


Steff, I sure hope you have a blog. If not, please start one. You are a hoot! :>)

She shall bruise his head with her mop handle

Just when you think all is calm at the pond, you find a snake in your living room while your husband is at work.

Yep. A snake. It was a baby snake, but that doesn't really make the situation any better, unless you take into account that his little reptilian mouth was too small to bite my pinky toe.

Oh yeah. I forgot to mention in some previous posts- The pond out back? Um, it has been home to water moccasins.

I decided to identify the snake before killing it. One needs to know the odds of a venomous bite or, you know, death before one tries to remove a creature that may or may not be deadly. Sadly enough, I am learning about the patterns of snakes.

Stripes- good.

Blotches- sometimes good, sometimes very, very bad.

Diamonds- bad

Bands and Cross bands- Depends on the colors. Red and yellow could be friendly or deadly. So, you are supposed to remember this-

"Red touches yellow will kill a fellow."

It's like a sick, little nursery rhyme that you never want to read to your kids.

This snake had blotches. In order to determine whether he was a harmless water snake or a deadly water moccasin, I was supposed to look at the shape of his head and his eyes. I am no snake expert, but it is my opinion that if you are close enough to a snake to decide whether his eyes are oval or round or hazel with flecks of gold, you are too close.

The possibility that it was deadly was enough ID for me. I grabbed the broom, and in one quick tactical maneuver-like motion, I swooshed it (that's a real snake expert term) near the door and away from furniture to prevent the snake from evading me in a secret snake hide-out. After swooshing, I commenced to smooshing. (more snake expert talk)

Pretty much, I beat the thing to death with the mop handle. It wasn't until I hit it with a Biblical head-crushing jab on its creepy little head, that it died. There it lay, dead as a doornail, right there in the foyer.

After disposing of the remains in the big green garbage can (my version of the East River), I got on the Internet and ID'd the dead critter- A water snake. Poor, harmless, dumb as dirt to slither into this girl's house snake.

May it rest in peace.

Thirteen Things You Will Never See On TV

1. Britney hosting Thanksgiving dinner with Martha Stewart.

2. Billy Graham Crusades bloopers and outtakes.

3. The Barbara Walters/Apprentice Special

4. Vera Wang on What Not To Wear

5. The Project Runway Last Minute Costume Making Challenge

6. Dateline Investigates: Lost Socks In The Dryer

7. PBS Special: Methane Gas- How Chili Cook-offs Contribute to Global Warming

8. Rock, Paper, Scissors- America Chooses Their Next US President

9. Extreme Home Makeover- The White House

10. Dancing With The Stars- Chicken Dance Edition

11. A commercial for air

12. Special Offer: Gallon of Gasoline- Buy One Get One Free

13. Made For TV Movie- Webster's Dictionary

I'm so glad she doesn't want anyone to feel left out.

"Mommy, I feel sorry for the juice box."

"Why?"

"No one wants a juice box anymore. Everyone wants a CapriSun. If someone has a juice box and their friends all have a CapriSun, the one with the juice box says, 'Ah, Man! I gotta juice box."

"It's Ok. There are still some kids who like the juice box. I think the preschoolers still drink them.

;>)

The day that changed everything.

September 11.

A day that changed so many lives forever.

We all know where we were that day, but I want to ask you this- Where are you today?

Today could be the day that changes your life for eternity. Watch this and search your heart.




Blessings,

For Amy

After a battle with leukemia, Amy passed away today. Her faith and love for her Lord were apparent on her blog.

Take a moment to stop by her blog and leave some kind words for her husband.

With deepest sympathy,

Now I will just speak into my shoe phone.

Here's a question for you fellow bloggers-

Do you ever feel like you are living a double life? Like you live in two different worlds- the blog world and the real world?

I have a few friends and family members who read my blog, but most of them never comment. I don't know if it is because they save those comments for emails or if they feel like they are not part of that "life" or maybe they just haven't figured out yet how to log on to Google. (Hey, friends and family- I can tell when you visit the blog. My site meter shows it. Just a little bloggy agent tool we geeky bloggers use.)

Most of my friends don't read my blog. Most don't even know about it because, well, why should they? They all lead normal, respectable lives and do productive things like cut the grass and take out the trash while I'm inside sitting under dim lighting trying to adjust my template.

Then there's that moment. That moment when I am talking to a friend about something that happened and I know I've already written a post on it, so what I really want to say is,"Hey. Read my blog. I just wrote about that."

But I don't say that because I know she would give me "that look." The look that says,"What on earth are you talking about? You have a what? Isn't that like a website? And what makes you think your life is interesting enough that anyone would want to read about it?"

So I let the moment pass and say nothing. I've decided not to bring that particular friend "to the other side." She may just go there and figure out just how weird I really am or she may just go there and never return.

Some days I am a blogger and some days I am just the old, offline me.

It's like a James Bond movie, only I don't look nearly as smart as those James Bond girls.

Ahem.

How about you?

Newman goes global

I told y'all it was not my imagination.

Here's why you never got your TV Guide.

;>)

But she did not cry for help.

Yesterday I was running errands, purchasing paint for our home office, browsing a teacher's supply store in search of Sunday School supplies. Basic, mundane tasks we all do. It was just another extraordinary day.

When I'd finished everything I needed to do, I had a little time to waste before picking up my daughter from school. So I decided to stop at TJ Maxx to fill the time. As I passed the children's clothing on my way to housewares, I saw a little girl weaving in and out of the clothing racks. She couldn't have been more than three years old.

"Where's her mom?" immediately came to mind and I stood there looking for a woman or anyone who seemed like they would "match." We've all done this. We see a child wandering around or playing with something in a store and our eyes start to scan the area, searching for the grown-up to whom they belong. Most of the time, we find the grown-up and then we hear,"Get back over here. I can't see you."

Only this time I couldn't find the "match." The little girl kept wandering through the racks, past the baby clothes, and on into another department. I looked around. Still no grown-up. Not able to find an employee closeby without taking my eyes off the lost girl, I knelt down and asked the girl, "Sweetie, where's your mommy?"

"I don't know," she said.

"We need to find her," I said.

"OK"

"What's your name?"

"muttered words"

"What, honey?"

"muttered words"

Still no grown-up. No one had noticed that I- a complete stranger- had stopped to talk to a small child who does not belong to me.

"Let's find your mommy. We need to find a person who works here."

"OK."

Then, the absolute worst thing happened.

She followed me.

I didn't take her hand because I did not want her to really trust me. I had wished that she would scream, "Stranger! I want my mommy!" I wished that she would have stood there, frozen in that spot in the aisle, refusing to go anywhere with a person she did not know, a person who (this time) had her best interests at heart, a person who was in fact someone's mommy, but not hers.

Instead, she followed me. She did not make a peep. She followed me all the way to the front of the store. All the way to the front of the store. Then she stood there with me in line at the registers until I could speak to a clerk.

Still no grown-up.

The clerks were extremely helpful and immediately took her hand. Before they did, I knelt down again to this little girl to tell her that these ladies work there, "see their badges?" and that it was OK for her to go with them to find her mommy.

Soon, the three of us deciphered the muttered words of a little girl to learn her name. Soon, an announcement was made over the store's intercom. I watched as a clerk walked around the store with a tiny, lost hand in her firm grip. Soon, a lost child and her mommy were reunited.

There was no search party.

There was no press conference.

Only the sounds of metal hangers sliding across clearance racks and the grateful sigh of a shopper who just happened to stop in the store to fill the time before picking up her own little girl.

While I wanted to stomp in a rage in the face of this mom who, for what seemed an eternity, did not know where her daughter was, I took a moment to pray. I thanked God that this little girl was safe and I asked Him to protect her. Then I drove to my own daughter's school and sat in car line. The end of a busy, mundane, task-filled day.

This morning I saw the news about a mom who left her child in her car all day while she was at work taking care of other people's children. She sobbed on camera as police interviewed her. The images were heartbreaking. It doesn't really matter what I feel about her or the mom who lost her child in the store; something is wrong.

Something is terribly wrong.

While I do not believe that "it takes a village" to raise a child, I do believe that the villagers should help each other. The women of the pioneer days and even my grandmother's days did it right. They helped each other with household chores, watching each other's children, and mentoring one another.

Moms, if you are overwhelmed, if you are doing too much, if you are trying to please everyone all the time, stop. Take a moment to prioritize. Take a moment to breathe. Take a moment to ask a friend or a neighbor for help.

If you know someone who seems overwhelmed or exhausted, a mother or father who could use a helping hand, offer help. Offer to pick up their child from school or give them a ride to soccer practice, or plan a play date at your house so the mom can have some time to herself. Tell her you care about her and her children.

She may never ask you for help, but you can hear her cry. When you do, answer it.

A child's life may depend on it.


Edited To Add-

If you are a mom needing support and friendship of other moms, here are a few great organizations to check out. Search for a group near you. Meet moms just like you and give your kids a chance to make some new friends. We need each other, ladies!

MOMS(Moms Offering Moms Support)Club

MOPS- Mothers Of Preschoolers

Thirteen School Forms They Really Want You To Sign

It is the beginning of the school year and, as Nancy has mentioned, time for all of those tedious and often redundant school forms.

Here are a few forms that school officials really want to send home, but are too afraid to ask.



;>)



1. The "I Will Participate In All School Fundraisers With Enthusiasm And Pure Joy" Form

2. "I Will Not Complain, Pitch A Hissy Fit or Even Twitch When I Find Out Some Parent Sent Their Kid To School With Lice, Strep Throat, An Intestinal Ripping Virus Or Even Anthrax"

3. "I Will Not Hold Up The Car Line By Applying Lipstick Or Other Last Ditch Effort Cosmetic Enhancement"

4. "When It Is Time For Class Parties, I Will Sign Up For Something Other Than Plates And Napkins"

5. "I Will Not Purchase Mugs, Tacky Apple Decor Or Cookie Mix For Teachers' Gifts"

See Addendum


6. Addendum: "I Will Give Cash For Teachers' Gifts"

7. "I Will Smile Graciously When The PTA President Stands Up In A Meeting (In Her Naive Ambition) And Suggests That I Will Have To Purchase Even ONE MORE TUB OF COOKIE DOUGH"

Has she not seen my thighs?

8. "I Will Really Mean It When I Tell My Kid That The Bratty Girl Who Knocked Her Down On The Playground Probably Just Isn't Getting Enough Attention At Home And Just Needs To Learn How To Get Attention In A Postive Way"

Bless her mean, snot-nosed little heart.

9. "I Will Not Give My Child Sugar, Caffeine, Or Any Other Legal Stimulant Just Before A Standardized Test"

10. "Our Family Will Only Take Vacations During Designated School Holidays"

11. "When I Eat Lunch With My Child At School, I Will Eat The School Lunch Provided And Savor The Culinary Creativity Of The Salisbury Steak For Years To Come"

12. "I Will Cry Tears Of Joy When My Child Asks For Help With Algebra"

13. "I Will Forever Praise The Educational Contributions Of The Criss Cross Applesauce-Bubbles In Your Mouth Method"

Therefore I live vicariously through my friends.

Y'all have to read about Nancy's Labor Day Weekend.

Hint: A woman named Paula, a cool "Dawg" and a not-always-tactful British guy.

Fun!!

A Lesson in Dental Hygiene

"Mommy, the teacher has a brown tooth."

"A brown tooth?"

"Yeah, it's brown. Like a cavity."

"Maybe it is a filling. Some fillings can be dark and look brown."

"No. It's all yucky. It's a cavity. She said so."

"Really...Oh... Well, maybe she didn't get to go to the dentist when she was young."

"NO! It's not in her mouth! It's in a box in our classroom!"

Mom VS. Survivorman

Survivorman- Battling flesh-eating bacteria

Mom- Cleaning the family bathroom


Survivorman- Seven sleepless nights in the Rain Forest

Mom- Countless sleepless nights of ear infections, strep throat and worrying "Why hasn't she come home yet?"


Survivorman- Charred scorpions for dinner

Mom- Happy Meal leftovers


Survivorman- Days without basic hygiene

Mom- Days after bringing home baby- When did I last take a shower?


Survivorman- Making a shelter out of palm branches and 2 ft. of twine

Mom- Making a fort out of the couch, Daddy's chair and a really big quilt


Survivorman- Starting a fire with the wax from an old piece of chocolate, an old soda can, and a ray of sunlight

Mom- Putting out fires left and right


Survivorman- Looking for food in the jungle while evading cannibalistic natives

Mom- Grocery shopping with the kids


Survivorman- Trekking across snow and ice in Canada and giving his one leftover piece of Carabou carcass to the team of biting, growling sled dogs.

Mom- Hauling the kids in the van to the park and giving up her sweater to the kid who refused to wear his jacket because "It's not cold, Mom!"


Survivorman- Squashing bugs

Mom- Squashing bugs


Survivorman- Eating squashed bugs

Mom- Stopping kid from eating squashed bugs


Survivorman- *No food, no shelter, no fresh water, no tools... no camera crew.
One man - alone in the wild for seven days with only his wits and stamina to sustain him.

Mom- No food without cartoon characters, no juice without cellophane wrapped straws, no time to herself...no camera crew (thank goodness!)
One woman- alone, at home or in the mall, or the doctor's office or at school or in line at the DMV, for 18 years with only the advice of half-witted friends and neurotic relatives with good intentions and a cup of stale, cold coffee to sustain her.


*Quote from the Survivorman website

Shhh...Mum's the word.

Updated to add- Pictures to follow when it is all done. :>)

It feels like it's the middle of July, but according to my calendar, it is the 2ND of September. Therefore, I have begun decorating for my second favorite time of the year (nothing beats Jesus' Birthday!).

Yes, M'am. It is time for Fall.

I packed up the Summer pillows from the porch and put away the gardenia wreath from the door. Even the cushions in the wicker chairs are different. I will let y'all in on a little secret- OK. Come a little closer... those cushions on my porch that look brand new are just the same ones, only loosely covered with an old tablecloth and fabric remnants. I'm cheap.

And I am already scheming about what I'll use for Christmas cushions.

So the white wicker chairs and settee have new, ahem, cranberry cushions to match the wonderfully inexpensive mums I found at Home Depot.

Shameless plug- Home Depot has HUGE potted mums at the unbelievable price of $2.49! Hurry now while supplies last.

Plus, if the mums were not enough, I found some great deals on cute Fall Decor at JoAnn's Fabrics. Cute! Reusable! Cheap! Good Stuff, People!

So now we can sit on the porch next to the scarecrows and the fall leaves as we wipe the gallons of perspiration from our brows and swat the mosquitoes. Yeah. Fall may not be in the air, but it has arrived on my front porch.

It's a cornucopia of autumn whimsy.

Friday Feast

Appetizer: Who is the easiest person for you to talk to? My husband. I can tell him anything. He may not always understand my feelings or know just what to do, but he listens without criticizing. He also knows now that sometimes I just need him to listen and I don't really need solutions. I hope he can say the same thing about me. He's my best friend.


Soup: If you could live in any ancient city during the height of the quality of its society and culture, which one would you choose? I would say Rome because I would love to say,"When in Rome, do as the Romans do."


Salad: What is the most exciting event you have ever witnessed? Childbirth.


Main Course: If you were a celebrity, what would you do for a publicity stunt? Hmmm... Let's see. I would wear white after Labor Day and make all the tabloids.


Dessert: What do you consider the ideal age to have a first child?
When you and your husband have spent enough couple time together, as husband and wife.
When you are both comfortable and confident in your roles as husband and wife and can take on the roles of mom and dad.
Every married couple needs time to be married before they become parents. They will appreciate their time with their child even more, rather than look forward to the next time the babysitter can relieve them.

Unwrapping a Lifetime

When I opened the box, I smelled it.

It was the scent of an elderly woman's home, of furniture polish and moth balls, of rose and lavendar, and of freshly ironed linens. Doilies and hand-embroidered dresser scarves. Sepia toned family photos. China. And memories.

The contents of the box were wrapped in packer's paper and the dust that had settled was soon sprinkled in the air as I unwrapped each plate.

Most of the dishes were probably rarely used. Kept safely on shelves in a cabinet, the plates were often dusted. I could picture her over the years, taking the plates one by one, carefully cleaning them, then gingerly putting them back in their place.

Wheat dishes and amber depression glass.

As I unwrapped each piece, scratching my nose from the dust in the air, I carefully placed them in my own cabinet. One by one, finding their special place.

Then I saw it. My name. She had written my name on a box. Inside I found a cake plate and server I had given her for a birthday. I remember picking it out, standing in a gift shop, wondering if she would like the pink and blue flowers that decorated the china cake plate and matching server. Somehow, I knew she would never use it, but I bought it anyway. It didn't matter if she never used it. It was pretty and I wanted her to have something pretty for her birthday.

I suppose she wrote my name on the box not long after she opened her gift, as many old ladies do. They want to remember who gave them what, not so that they can just remember, but so that when they are gone, that person can have it back. My own grandmother did the very same thing.

And so I have a cake plate with pink and blue flowers, with a matching server. It belonged to her- my husband's grandmother, my daughter's great grandmother. Somehow what means more to me is the box, with her handwriting on it. So I will keep the box, but I will take out the cake plate and server and I will use them.

Along with the wheat dishes and the amber depression glass.

Because I want to remember her. I want to honor her memory. I want my daughter to know that people live on in our hearts long after they are gone. I want her to learn that when a loved one dies and goes on to be with The Lord in Heaven, that we will see them again someday.

Until that day, we will look at the wheat dishes and the amber depression glass in our cabinet. Some days we will take them out to dust them. Sometimes we will take them out and make beautiful place settings for Thanksgiving or for no special occasion at all.

We will share laughter and cake over the china plate with pink and blue flowers and matching server.

And we will remember her.

Bloggy Break

I have a few posts in the works, but for now I am taking a few days of bloggy break.

In the meantime, visit my archives or better yet, visit the great blogs in my blogroll.

See ya soon...

Welcome to Mayberry

I've mentioned before about the sweet neighbors we have in the neat little neighborhood with the critters from the deep.

Y'all have no idea how eerily wonderful it is.

Today a lady down the street invited some of us for a "Back To School" potluck because, you know, our kids have gone back to school and now it is time to Par-Tay with casseroles and broccoli salad.

WOOHOO! Somebody just might be wearing a lampshade!

It was also my next door neighbor's birthday. We signed a card that played the chicken dance music. As it played, we all flapped our arms and clapped and MADE COMPLETE FOOLS OF OURSELVES.

Happy Birthday from your nerdy neighbors and their Pyrex dishes.

Then this evening my daughter and I went out for a birthday dinner with our neighbor and some of her friends. She had graciously invited us along for the celebration. Hubs was working and we would have been sitting home eating chicken nuggets or some other fine cuisine. Instead, we had Thai- yum.

On the way home, we looked in awe at all the cars at our new McDonald's. Y'all just don't know. This new McDonald's has been all the buzz. You'd think we got a mall; the anticipation has been nearly impossible to contain. Every day during construction we would ride by and observe the progress.

My neighbor looked at us and said,"You guys wanna try out the new McDonald's? Let's stop for an ice cream."

"OK."

"You wanna go through the drive thru or go in?"

"Doesn't matter."

"OHHHHH! Let's go in so we can check it out!"

Yes, people. We spent the end of our evening checking out the new McDonald's because apparently they all have their own unique way of frying up the exact same recipes. I use the word "recipe" loosely.

But, oh! It was soooo cool. It is one of those new ones with contemporary decor. If I wasn't Baptist and didn't know any better, I'd say it looks a lot like a club.

Ahem.

And this Mickey D's has video games. Yes, M'am. If your brain has not turned to mush from the lack of nutrition, you can add to the damage by playing a game on a touch screen.

While eating your ice cream.

Andy never saw excitement quite like this.

Works for Me Wednesday: Quick Cooking for Kids

Here is a tip that may make your life with toddlers and preschoolers a little easier.

Go ahead and buy a toaster oven. They are very inexpensive. I have always cooked chicken nuggets, fish sticks, and popcorn shrimp in our little gem. It is so much easier, quicker and more energy efficient than heating up your conventional oven.

Visit Shannon for more great tips!

More stuff I don't understand

I was thinking about something the other day...

If you go to Alcoholics Anonymous, and then you have to stand up and say, "My name is Joe and I am an alcoholic, doesn't that like, totally make you NOT anonymous?"

I'm just sayin.'

And why do they advertise toilet paper? I mean, we're going to buy it anyway. Right? It's not like I'm going to see those little cartoon bears in the woods talking about quilted softness and think,"Hey! I never thought of buying that stuff! I think I'll run out to Target and get some!"

One more thing...

Why does it take two anchor people to report the weather on The Weather Channel, but it only takes one to report stuff like, oh... The War on Terror?

Just wondering.

She's quite the budding artist.

Overheard at my house...

Me- "So, what are you painting?"

Daughter- "A tree."

Me- "Oh, that looks great."

Daughter- "It's supposed to look like the front of a southern lady's house....YOU!"

His Eye is on the storm.

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my own little life, preparing dinners, shopping for school supplies, doing the laundry, and then blogging all about it, that I forget about the rest of the world outside of my square footage of suburban space.

Even in the blog world, with a site meter that shows international readers, I forget that there are people out there very different from me, preparing their own dinners and doing their laundry.

Right now, some of them are packing up their belongings, boarding up their homes, and filling their gas tanks.

There is a powerful force to be reckoned with brewing in the waters of the Caribbean and headed for the warm Gulf of Mexico. His name is Hurricane Dean.

I have lived through a few hurricanes myself. Some were "nothing," and some were, well, something. Something awful.

Let me tell you that nothing on television or in the newspapers could ever truly represent the terrible suffering and destruction caused by a hurricane. Long after the News has moved on to another story about Lindsay Lohan or Angelina, people are still recovering from the storms.

While most people in the path of Dean are preparing to evacuate, my pastor is headed straight into the midst of the troubled waters. He is joining a team of other pastors on a mission trip to Central America.

This trip has been planned for months and many obstacles have been thrown in the path. Satan has tried his best (if he has a "Best") to stop my pastor and his team from traveling to Central America to share the Gospel of Jesus. Still, my pastor has pressed on, praying God's Will be done in it all.

So why would God allow a hurricane to be in the path of a mission trip?

I don't know. But God does.

I do not believe in coincidence; everything has a purpose. Perhaps God wants these messengers of Christ to be there when the storm strikes, right alongside those who will need God most. I don't know. What I do know is that God is omnipotent and omnipresent.

He knows all. He sees all. He is everywhere, all of the time. Even in the eye of the storm.

Please join me in praying for my pastor and the rest of the mission team.

Pray for all life in the path of this hurricane.

Pray that Christians will step forward and help those affected by the storm.

Above all, pray that God will be glorified, even through tragedy.

Safety In Your Home

A Word of Caution:

Stop what you are doing and read this about Linda's experience with the new spiral light bulbs.

Then, proceed with caution about their use in your home.

Owner's Momentary Lapse of Judgement Leads to Mad Cat's Loss of Title

It was reported that Maggie gave up her title of "Miss Congeniality" after being forced into the bathing suit competition.

When asked what contributions she would make to society if she won the competition, Maggie answered,"Forget World Peace. I want revenge."

Diary Of A Road Trip: Part Two

AKA "This Is the Last Part of a Two Part Series, So You Can Breathe a Sigh of Relief"

Or was that a yawn?

1. Before leaving for town, I did the obligatory house cleaning in case I die while traveling and all the southern women in my family and church must come to my house to bring potato salad and chicken and rice.

So why does it look like it needs cleaning again today?

My daughter cleaned her room and made her bed all nice and neat. The night before we left she said she wanted to sleep in our room so, "I won't have to mess it up and have to make it all over again in the morning."

She's got her priorities straight, along with her linens.

2. When we got to Mama's it was hot as blue blazes. The heat index was 120. That is insane. You could have fried an egg and a side of bacon on the pavement.

3. One day we took a trip to the Riverquarium in Albany. The aquarium is still fairly new and they are adding exhibits all the time. The latest is the venom exhibit.

They have a raised exhibit of rattlesnakes that you can crawl under and then pop your head up in glass domes where you can see the rattlers nose to fangs, like an idiot, I mean like a brave person who is interested in snakes.

I told my daughter I would go with her. We climbed under and then stuck our heads up in the "protective" dome, right next to two of the rattlesnakes. One of them started to coil when he saw us and I took the moment to teach her that it was a sign he was about to strike. A coiling rattler (under normal conditions with normal people) is a signal to get far, far away.

Daddy could see us from outside the exhibit. You should have seen his face. He kept pointing and motioning at the coiled rattler as if to say,"Um, look, my idiot offspring, I mean sweet daughter, you are about to get bitten by a huge rattlesnake."

A thin layer of plexiglass is not very comforting to my Daddy.

The coiled rattler never did strike at us, or at the plexiglass. I guess he didn't find us very threatening after all.

4. The rest of the visit was spent trying to find fun things to do indoors because it was hot as blue blazes.

It's a good thing I love crafts.

5. Now I must go. I have a house to clean even though it has been empty for a whole week and no one has been here to make it dirty again.

6. And Miss Congeniality needs a bath.

Diary of A Road Trip: Part One

Oh, the people I've seen.

First, let me apologize for making this a two part series. I am not claiming that my writing is worthy of one part, much less two parts, but I am southern and long-winded.

We have been on a road trip, first stopping off at Mama's and Daddy's house in Albany (more on that visit in a later post), and then on to my in-law's home in North Augusta, South Carolina.

North Augusta is just across the Savannah River, close enough to Augusta (and Starbucks) yet far enough away from the big "city" life. (Yes, Augusta is considered the city when you want to go shopping or get a good steak.)

My in-laws have lived in North Augusta since before we were married, and I have slowly become acquainted with the town's unique charm and grace. I've also gotten to know some of the people.

On Sunday, we celebrated in my niece's baptism. (As a side note- I have to tell y'all that she was as beautiful as a china doll. Precious. Just Precious. But I'm not one to brag...)

After the service, we went to Sunday School where I met many of my in-laws' friends. I also met a lady who has been reading my blog. She was just as sweet as I imagined. (Hey, Virginia! :>))

The Sunday School teacher, while quite scholarly and Biblically sound in his wisdom and knowledge, was a TOTAL RIOT! The lesson was on Ezekiel and y'all know, unless you are good at discussing dry bones, Ezekiel is a tough book to teach.

Mr. Larry's teaching led us down memory lane to the time when he was a little boy. He reminded us all of the serious consequences of sin and of playing hookey from school.

I also remember something about a shaved dog that looked like a lion...

Yes, M'am. Billy Graham's got nothin' on Mr. Larry. All we needed was a chorus of Just As I Am and it was all over but the shoutin.'

To all of the wonderful people I met Sunday morning, thanks for the hospitality and, in all seriousness (if that is possible at this point), the Christian fellowship and time in God's Word.

Sincerely, Melanie

;>)

My cat, Miss Congeniality.

Maggie, our family's juvenile delinquent, has been in the kennel for an entire week. Our very sweet neighbor offered to care for her while we were gone, but I just couldn't ask her to scoop the litter box for that many days. I mean, y'all just don't realize how much my cat eats.

'Nough said.

When we arrived at the kennel to pick her up, I already knew what to expect. As usual, she was "not happy."

One of the kennel techs looked at my daughter and said,"I really want to love your cat."

Sweet Deb, the kind, brave woman who takes care of Maggie, said that Maggie did let her pet her on the nose once today. This is real progress! During her last stay, Maggie climbed on Deb's head.

I have come to believe that only a small portion of the boarding fee is for food,water, and other basic needs. Most of the boarding fee goes toward employee hazard insurance.

And a whole lotta therapy.

Hi from beyond...

I am on a road trip visiting some family...

I just wanted to take a moment to let all of the miners' families know that I am praying for all of you.

Please, let's all keep praying.

In His Name,
Melanie

Quote of quotes

"Mommy, I have to quote Spongebob."



"You have to?"



"Yes, I have to. I am allergic to not quoting Spongebob."



I can't say much. She gets it honestly.

It's a creepy, crawly kind of strength, really.

In the midst of raising butterflies and fighting biting flies, we have had a time trying to get rid of a family of small, yet largely irritating insects.

Sugar Ants.

Their name is quite misleading. They aren't always in in the sugar and they certainly aren't sweet. Sugar Ants. It makes you think of something sweet and darling, something you may even want to cuddle with on the couch and watch a Disney movie.

Instead of something you want to smash to smithereens and scream, "DIE! You tiny, syrup- stealing, suckers! DIE!"

I really hate violence.

So I called The Man. The one I really dread to have to call, but always look forward to seeing. He has saved my pantry and my sanity on many, many occasions. He may not wear a cape, but he is my hero. He is- The Bug Man. I have never referred to him as the Exterminator, because that just seems so extreme and Arnold Schwartzanneger-y.

"Maa-REE-uh, I'm going to destroy the earwigs and then I'll be bahhhk."

Before making the call, or sending out The Bug Signal, I tried to rely on my own strength. I tried all of the little home remedies of killing sugar ants. I sprayed Windex, hoping the ammonia would kill them or, at the very least, make them suffer from little sugar ant hangovers. I tried things the old-fashioned way. I smooshed them with my pointer finger.

Still. The teeny army marched on.

So today The Bug Man came. He saw. He conquered. He left bait for the little critters to innocently eat and then take home in little doggie bags and share with their little families, thereby poisoning them all.

It's a microcosm of Jonestown within my kitchen walls.

As I type, they are snacking on the stuff. I can almost hear their tiny voices saying,"Mommy, the syrup on my pancakes tastes funny. I think it went bad."

There's just nothing like the neuro-toxic strength of a man in khaki green with a cannister and a spray gun. For all of the crawling, disease-carrying, annoying bugs everywhere, he IS the party pooper.

Asta la Vista, baby.

Never underestimate the influence of good hair.

Trista from The Pumkin Patch saw my sad little Aqua Net trophy and made a real award for Big Mama, complete with the correct Flex Net logo.

Thanks, Trista! You rock!

Without further ado, Big Mama, here is your proper Hair Spray Award. May it grace the mighty mantel in your mind... or something like that.

A Good Hair Moment In Time

I am no good at Photoshop. I can hot glue feathers and do some mean seam ripping, but my computer graphics abilities would make Bill Gates blush.

Inspite of these shortcomings, I wanted to make Big Mama an award because of this post, where she takes us back to many moments in her high school times.

Big Mama, I hereby award you the Hair Spray Award (John Travolta, eat your heart out) for your excellence in styling and maintaining big, perfectly coiffed hair with some of the best mall bangs I have evah seen.

Yes, M'am. That's some stellar hair fixin.'

I apologize for not finding a photo of Flexnet hair spray. It appears that when one Googles for Flexnet in 2007, an Internet Service pops up. (sigh)

Big Mama, I know you have a great imagination, so just imagine a flimsy plastic figurine of a dancer in white boots dancing to "Shake Your Love" attached to the top of the spray can.

It's not "Most Likely to Succeed," but it'll have to do.

:>)

Works For Me: That's why they make soap.

Update: This post was meant to be an encouragement to those who are messy like me, not an insult to the organized and the tidy. :>) I hope you all will take it that way.

One thing I want my daughter to remember is that our home is her home, too. While we try to keep things neatly put away, I have never been the kind of mom who put the crayons in one box, the markers in another, and so on.

We even mix Play-Doh.

If you are starting to twitch a little, that's perfectly understandable. I would be twitching to think that I had to keep my art supplies segregated. We're all different.

I also don't freak out (too much) if she accidentally spills something or gets something on her clothes. I have told her that we try to keep things clean, but an accident is an accident. As long she doesn't make a mess on purpose, it is OK. (Painting or coloring the walls when you are two years old is obviously not an accident.)

We keep the house "clean." We teach her to respect people's property and to take care of what God has given us. I just don't mind if things get a little messy when we are having fun. The ceiling will not fall in if she gets a little mud on the floor.

Whenever something spills or gets on her clothes, I have always said, "That's why they make soap," to reassure her that mom is not angry or disappointed.

A stain on the carpet is just one small thing when compared to all of the other trials we face as parents.

Now, if they could just make some special soap to help them clean their rooms. :>)

Visit Shannon for more parenting tips.