Start at the Very Begining

The first step of the new cleaning plan I am trying is to let your house get good and messy. I was able to skip this step. We just got back from traveling for Christmas and came home to 4 house guests. So, with new stuff in the house, suitcases out, and about a week of 8 people living here, I thought the first step had been reached. In all honesty I actually cleaned a little during this step because I wanted to take the Christmas tree down before I started.

The next step is to start a journal of your mess. We are going to give this system a fair shake on the main floor of our home before trying to convert the children so I have only done half the house. To start you make pictures of your mess. This is to give you a great "before" shot and also because it is easier to see the mess you step over everyday when you look at it in a picture.

The next step is to describe the mess. This was a bit painful.

Now you write down your excuse for each problem. The inner child in me was great at this step. A lot of blame got passed around.

Now comes the time for the 100 year clean. It is like a 100 year flood, but with a mop and vacuum. I started in my den and performed a cleaning so profound that the neighbors might have wondered if we were trying to sell the house. After that was done I was able to think through the next few steps to make the necessary changes to the room.

Tonight I am very pleased with myself. My first room was a great success to this point. If it still looks even half this good next week I will call it a win.

The Family Room before

Drum roll please...

the after!

The area under the jumbo tron has been completely reworked so that a lot of the mess now has a neat home there. I have also managed to hide a good sized toy box in this room. I removed 2 side tables that were serving no purpose other than to be a flat surface to hold random junk. No table, no where for stuff to sit. Genius! It is a little on the minimalist side, but if it stays clean, who cares? One big win already is that I vacuumed the drapes and found about an inch of dust in my vacuum when I finished. We are no longer breathing that in.

Oh Really?

As kind of a joke way of being helpful, my mother gave me a book for Christmas called "The House That Cleans Itself". As anyone who has been to my house for a planned visit can tell you, I keep a tidy house. As anyone who has dropped in unannounced can tell you I am great at hiding things, panic cleaning, and could win awards for my messiness. Basically, my house lives a double life, the one we let people see and the one we try to hide at all costs. I don't mind if people know I keep a little clutter, but in the back of my mind I do worry a little that the health board would get called if people saw my real housekeeping habits. For someone who isn't a hoarder and doesn't tend to shop a lot, I have a lot of mess.
I got to thinking that if Rocky can go on a diet for New Years I could try to fix some of my cleaning issues. In fact, I have realized that we are messy people in a lot of areas. We need to de-clutter our house, our budget, our diets, and our spiritual lives.
The book suggests setting a time goal of a couple of months and at the end of that have a party of some sort to help you have a goal in mind. I guess we could do that, but I thought using the blog to journal the whole thing might keep me more honest. After all, I am the queen of cleaning for a day. Don't believe me? Just look under my bed.

A Christmas Homecoming

I woke up this morning to the news that not only one, but two great men had died the day before. One of the men, Dr. Jackson Reeves had been in failing health for some time. Jackson was a bit of a kindred spirit. We had both grown up in the Methodist church, our families had left for the same reasons, and we still held on to a few of the teachings we were raised on even after leaving. He made me feel so welcome in this baptist church I now attend. He seemed to me to be looking forward to an eternal healing. It is for that reason I am finding it easier to be happy for Jackson in his passing. My heart goes out to his wife and family. He will be missed. I will miss him, but I think he was ready even if we weren't.
The second man we lost was the man I've been asking prayer for all week. Mr. Thomas Blue Sanderson, T. Blue to most, Santa to anyone who saw him. It has only been a moth since my kids were sitting in his lap talking of Christmas. When I first saw T Blue I thought he was a man who looked like Santa Claus. After I met him I realized that God had just made his outsides reflect the jolly, loving, and giving soul on the inside. At first I thought his passing at Christmas was profoundly sad, but then something my daughter said changed my mind. Nix said when I broke the news to her, "He can say Happy Birthday to Jesus in person this year." Although that statement might not be theologically sound it brought me back to that childlike view on death. It is full of hope with eyes on the eternal picture. There is no doubt that these deaths are sad and to be mourned, but both of these men got to meet the Lord today and they did it together. In that there is comfort. That is the promise we celebrate more than anything this Christmas season. So, in an odd way T Blue has, if for one last time, reminded us all about the real meaning of Christmas. I am blessed to have known them and even more blessed to be able to say I will see them again.

Bounderies

I was struck today by the lines people draw for themselves. Specifically I mean where people place lines between good and bad. Many have mental lines when it comes to their weight. You have the weight you'd like to be, the weight you are, and the number that wakes you up and tells you it is time for a change. I have heard people say things like, "Even at my heaviest I've never weighed X amount". In their mind, that number crosses the line between a little heavy and "fat".
I started thinking about this while listening to an interview of Whitney Houston. She had a line in her mind that smoking a little weed wasn't too bad. Even when she started in with cocaine she was very specific to draw the line between the expensive cocaine she was using and street crack. She seemed perversely proud that she didn't drink while getting high, that she wasn't strung out on meth or heroine. She stayed while her husband called her names, cursed at her, and even spit on her, but was careful to let you know that she would not have stood for him hitting her. That was her line and he knew it. It just amazed me how clear her lines where and how very different they were from my own.
Houston seems to have lived a lot of her life standing as close to her lines as she possibly could. It brought to mind a sermon I heard Scott (our youth minister) give. He pointed out that it is a lot harder to fall off a cliff when you are standing a mile away from it than it is when you spend all your time on the edge.
I don't think I'm standing on any edges at the moment, but I do think I need to take a minute and take a few steps back on one or two things.

Maybe I Need a Lawyer

In recent days it would be difficult not to know what is going on in Tiger Woods' personal life. Every time I turn on the news or the radio or even pull up a news website, his name is in the top headline. I haven't really paid much attention to it all, but I did see a story today that gave me pause. It said that 11 women have now been identified that he has had an affair with. When you read further you find out that all but one or two of these women say they have never had a relationship with him. I couldn't help but notice that their "official statements" were being issued from people such as Gloria Allred, a lawyer known for taking on cases like these. This got me to thinking of all the times I have had to hire a lawyer to explain my own perfectly innocent behavior. That would be never. I have yet to feel the need to hire even a publicist. Maybe I'm going about life all wrong. Think of all the people I haven't had a relationship with. Maybe I need to make a statement.
For the record, I have never been friends with Kate Gosselin, I have never been to church with Tom Cruise (but I'm pretty sure Rocky has), and I have never even shared so much as a meal with Tiger Woods.
This is one of those times where you really see why the Bible warns about even having the appearance of evil.

Fruit Salad Kids Will Eat

Tonight as I was mixing up fruit salad for Thanksgiving I was remembering how much I loved it as a kid. It really was my favorite dish. Now that I make it myself the mystery is gone, but the kids love it. I thought in honor of the holiday I would share the secret to making this fruit salad.
I'll start with the grocery shopping as it is an important part of getting the kids to eat it. First buy a box of orange jello, the kind you actually have to add water to not the pre-made stuff your kids beg for. Now comes the fruit. Get a short can of crushed pineapple. The ones that look like old school tuna cans but with pineapple in them. Next is a medium can of mandarin oranges. Not the big can but also not the tiny can. It is the one in between. Pick up a bag of miniature marshmallows. Don't buy them more than a couple of days in advance or you will not have enough left by the time you make it. Head on over the the refrigerator section and pick up some cottage cheese. It's the size just big enough to be a tub but not so big that you need a long handled spoon to get it all out. Last you'll need two tubs of Cool Whip. Actually the recipe only calls for 1, but we all know that one tub will magically disappear as soon as your husband knows it is in the house.
The night before you want to eat this and after the kids go to bed, get out a big plastic bowl with a lid. Drain your pineapple and oranges and dump them in the bowl. Next goes the cottage cheese. It is very important not to let any children or child like adults see this step as they are usually terrified of cottage cheese, or maybe that is just my house. Yell at your husband for eating the Cool Whip you had thawed out for this and then grab the still partly frozen tub you had hidden behind the vegetables in the bottom drawer of the frig. Fold it in. Now add a fist full of marshmallows in, or how ever many it takes for your kids to notice them before they see other ingredients. The last step is to open the orange jello mix and sprinkle in around a half of the packet. After stirring you want a peachy color and slight orange smell without it becoming a full "Oh, Tang!" kind of a thing.
The next day the kids will blissfully eat it up without a clue of what is hidden in it's fluffy folds. You can sit back and smile at what you have tricked them into eating. That is, right up to the point that you realize that the unhealthy ingredients greatly out weight the healthy, but at least you can still say that they ate fruit salad.

Finding THE Truth

JD is asking questions. Big questions. He wants to know when the world is going to end and if he will go to Heaven when it does. The one that threw me a bit was, "How will I find you when I get to Heaven?" Even though Nix was a little younger when she started on this path, she some how seemed older. I didn't have any doubt that Nix knew what she was doing when she prayed to accept Christ. I was there, I felt... well for lack of better words, the movement of the Spirit. I was almost as sure of her salvation as I am of my own. Certainly as sure as one can be about another's faith. I guess I am searching for that same assurance with JD.
At some point everyone reaches that all important age of accountability. It's the point in your life when you know there is a choice to be made. You can either follow the path of God or follow the path of man. I put it that way because when you say the choice is right or wrong, good or evil, it makes it seem like a no brainer, and it's not that easy. Rocky likes to say that a choice is not a choice without two seemingly good options, and to many the ways of the world look pretty good. In the short run it is certainly the best looking on the surface. In the long run you spend eternity learning why it was wrong.
As I remember it, coming to an understanding about God, Life, the Universe, and Everything, hit me like a bolt of lightening. It was like I had just finished a puzzle and saw the whole picture for the first time. At that moment, I understood, I was ashamed, I was grateful, and I wanted to do whatever I needed to do to let God and the rest of the world know that I believed. My parents didn't push me, I pushed them. It seemed very similar with Nix. I want it to work that way for JD.
As a parent, no, as a Christian parent, my greatest fear is that my son will understand, but wait. He'll let something hold him back, or doubt what he is feeling. It is hard to have a fear like this and still restrain yourself from pushing, so I pray. I pray that JD will understand, that God will work in his life to make him a great Christian man, that I'll know and be sure, and that I will not turn into the Christian equivalent of a stage mom.

Dishwashers and Microwaves

I'm going to go out on a limb here, but I think that the dishwasher and the microwave are contributing to the obesity problem in this country. This thought came to me the other day when, in 30 minutes, I covered some very healthy strawberries in some very unhealthy chocolate. I started with washing the berries and ended with washing the dishes and still got it all done in 30 minutes thanks to the microwave. I even used two different kinds of chocolate.
For Halloween each year I make chocolate covered caramel apples. When I was a kid this was the type of thing you got once a year at the fair, twice if your family went to Gatlinburg. Can you imagine the time and mess involved in making such a treat before microwaves and the clean up before dishwashers? No wonder people didn't make these for themselves. Now all it takes is a corning ware dish, a microwave, and a dishwasher. I can knock those things out in minutes.
Later I got to thinking about all the things I make quickly and easily that a few years ago would have taken all day and messed up every pot in the kitchen. It would quickly become a dish not worth the trouble or best saved for special occasions.
What I'm realizing here is that if you take a treat normally reserved for once a year and invent something that allows you to make it easily once a month then it stands to reason that people will start to put on some extra weight unless they restrain themselves. I don't know if you've noticed, but our generation is not real big on restraint.

You Try Not to Laugh

I recently posted this great quote from Erma Bombeck:
"Laughter rises out of tragedy, when you need it the most, and rewards you for your courage."
One of the greatest things about Erma Bombeck's writing was how she had a knack for pointing out that we are not alone in our struggles or our victories, however small and odd they may be. Until I read that quote I really thought that my family was alone in the way we grieve, but I can tell that Mrs. Bombeck probably laughed at a funeral or two in her day as well.
I have often said that my family puts the "fun" in funeral. It's been on my mind a lot this week. I shared with you all Sunday that it was the 28th anniversary of my salvation, and many of you know that Friday will be the 28th anniversary of my grandfather's death and how those two went hand in hand. What you may not know, and what we don't talk about that much is why the family had to leave the room during visitation.
As you can imagine, the lose of the patriarch of any family is not easy. My grandfather was in his early 50's and a very kind and loving man. We were all very torn up. We were comforted by the idea that he had gone to be with our Lord and we would see him again, but that never completely takes away the need to grieve the lose of one in your life.
Many people came to pay their respects. There were friends, family, and work colleagues, but none exactly like my cousin's wife. She was young, and I guess it was her first funeral. She knew to wear black, she got that part right. However, a skin tight floor length cocktail dress was not exactly appropriate. When you combine that with her pale skin and long straight black hair, she looked just like Morticia Addams. She was even having to take tiny steps due to the tightness of the dress.
My poor dear saintly grandmother. She looked up and saw this sight and just about lost it. She quietly excused herself as did her children. We all gathered in a private family room and started laughing. You sort of feel guilty for laughing to the point of tears on such a sad occasion, but looking back I know it was truly a gift from God. That day would have been unbearable for all of us had that not happened. I think it says a lot that to this day what I remember most about the funeral was this rare moment of laughter.
Since then I have come to find out that laughter is not uncommon at funerals in my family. It is always unexpected, unplanned, and greatly appreciated. For my children's sake, I hope that trend continues.
So, as the date approaches, I am choosing to focus on the joy and laughter that my grandfather brought to my life. He took me on my first motorcycle ride, my first opossum hunt armed only with flashlights, and gave me that first glimpse at unconditional love as only a grandparent can.
If family reads this, I hope it doesn't make you sad. I know memories of this are probably a lot different from an adults point of view. I hope seeing it the way I remembered it bring back laughter and not tears.

Things I Wish I Didn't Know

Did you know that Northside Hospital has a special wing for pregnant woman they are trying to keep from having premature births? That is one I learned the hard way when JD tried to be born at 27 weeks.
Did you know that there is a section where all the mothers have doves on their doors instead of storks? A friend learned that one when her son passed away shortly after birth. I'd give anything not to know that one.
Did you know that there is an organization made of photographers who volunteer to take photographs for families who have just lost a child? It is called Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep and because Key Photography volunteers for them, now I do too. This is a round about way to tell you that I had a rough day at work today. Normally I am invited into happy and joyful moments of people's lives, but today I was asked to look into the most tragic moment of a family and it broke my heart. I am glad that I am able to be a small part of something that will hopefully help a grieving family and equally glad that I didn't have to go with Keith while he sat with the family.
I pray that none of you are ever in need of this service and that God will comfort each and every family that does use it.

Truth in Advertising

A couple of years ago Dove started up the Campaign for Real Beauty and released this video.

You may have already seen it. Basically it shows as they take a nice, but semi-ordinary looking woman and you watch as she envovles into a model through makeup and computer manipulations. The point is to remind you that supermodels don't wake up looking like you see them on magazine covers. I recently had my own evolution day. By now you have probably seen my pictures on Facebook, but there is one image that you haven't seen yet. It's the "before" shot. Although I treasure each and every comment I got on my images, I realized that I wouldn't feel true until I also posted this one. There is only one that I really used the reshaping program on and I think it was pretty clear which one, it didn't look like me anymore.. EVERYONE can get results like these with the right photographer (thanks Keith!), makeup artist (seriously Paula, awesome work), and retoucher (even if I do say so myself).

Rocky said something wonderfully sweet about the whole thing. He said the "after" is how he always sees me. This gave me a new perspective on my job. I'm not taking away wrinkles or covering up who you are. I am making your portrait look the way the people who love you see you every day. That is a pretty cool job to have.

I think that the magazines have gone too far. You can make someone look good, even great, without shaping them into a different person. I kind of feel sorry for girls like Kelly Clarkson, who is such a beautiful woman, but over and over again they take her image and fit it into the mold of the shape they think she should be. The industry as a whole is really pushing that whole "truth in advertising".

What is a Czar?

Czar [zahr] noun - any person exercising great authority or power in a particular field: a czar of industry.
Lately I have been hearing this word pop up in news reports over and over again. In my mind, I relate czars with Russian rulers, and not in a favorable way. So, when I repeatedly heard names of people who are being appointed as "White House Czars" I became curious. I found a Wall Street Journal article that was very informative on the topic and thought I should share.
You might be wondering why this is important. Haven't all presidents had their "special advisers"? Well, yes and no. Although many presidents have had one or two people that could fall into the "czar" category, this administration has named an unprecedented number that is now in excess of 30. That is a pretty big number. What makes this troubling, and why we should all care regardless of our political leanings is that there is no official screening process for any of these positions. It is simply a way to circumvent the checks and balances that Congress provides. All that is required to get one of these high level advisor positions is for the president to give them the nod. Then before you know it, this person who has not been approved by anyone other than the president, is telling cabinet members what to do and heavily influencing policy.
One would assume that background checks, or at the very least a simple Google search would be done before any one was offered such an important job, but you know what they say happens when you assume. We need to all be asking ourselves if the White House staff or even the president knew that they were appointing a one time member of the Socialist International's Commission for a Sustainable World Society, a group that wants wealthy countries (such as ours) to shrink their economy in an effort to reduce the effects of climate change. Don't we have a shrinking economy now? search Carol Browner: Energy and Environmental Czar. Or, how about the one that wanted animals to have legal right so that they can sue people and ban hunting? search Cass Sunstein: Regulatory Czar. Then there is my personal favorite, the guy who supported compulsory sterilizations and mandated abortions as the way to provide a higher quality of life (think China's 1 child rule) search John Holdren: Science Czar.
The most recent and certainly the most entertaining of the czars is a man named Van Jones, the Green Jobs Czar. He is openly communist, thought 9/11 was an inside job, blames white people for sending poison into the black communities, and was the great mind that told us all that even though young black kids might go to school and shoot another back kid, only white suburban kids shoot up the whole school. He went from crazy rantings to top level official without anyone noticing, or at least not caring, what his personal agenda might be.
I wonder what is in the background of the other 27+ people currently serving as czars, and you should be wondering, too.

Permanently Temporary

Don't tell my kids, but last week while they were at school I cleaned out the toy boxes. I pulled out an assortment of old kid's meal toys, which will soon has a new home in the preschool treasure boxes. There were a few things they had outgrown that got boxed up for the next yard sale. Mostly I just sorted things putting them in the proper place. I couldn't help but think of the line from Toy Story 2 were Woody is reminding the other toys that while he is gone the toys at the bottom of the box need to be rotated. My plan worked beautifully. The kids have been playing with different toys all week, and have yet to notice the box full of things I pulled out.
While I was cleaning up I noticed a magna-doodle that still had a drawing on it that JD had done over a month ago. He was so proud of this drawing that he told me to never erase it. He added "EVER!" just to be sure I got the message. The whole point of a magna-doodle is to be able to draw a picture and then erase it to draw something new. It is always changing. In one overly emotional moment it seemed to me that my children have been avoiding playing with this toy to keep from erasing part of their childhood.
While we were school supply shopping we got an extra notebook for JD to draw in so he doesn't have to worry about things getting erased. He calls it his "facebook" because it is the book he draws faces in.

Through JD's Eyes

Everyday when I get the kids at the bus stop they start to compete to see who can tell me about their day first. This results in a loud stream of stories, of which I usually understand about half. One day all I heard was JD saying, " And then we found my teacher and I wasn't lost anymore." In usual JD style, he was following behind a girl that turned out to be in a different class, but the mix up was discovered quickly. He ended with, "But I didn't cry or anything."
Today both kids had the same thing on their minds, this year's first fire drill. It scared JD, but I couldn't help but laugh when he told me "the worst part", which was that they didn't even get to see the fire. That's my little pyro in training. Once I explained that drill meant that it was just practice and not a real fire, he was noticeably disappointed.
To round out our full day of funny, I caught JD carrying a really large stack of napkins (about half a bags worth). When I asked him what he was doing, and after the usual innocent "nothing" reply, he fessed up to trying to open the microwave and the thought the napkins would give him the boost he needed to get onto the counter. Half of me is glad I stopped him in time, and the other half would really like to have been there when he stepped up on that stack.

Too Comfortable

There was a story on the news today about how the feds are now considering a move to ban texting while driving. I personally can not imagine trying to text and drive, but I find it hard to believe that we really need the "all mighty" federal government to tell us it is dangerous. I do talk on the phone while I drive, but I'm starting to have second thoughts about that. I worry about letting myself get distracted while driving.

I'm afraid that in an effort to make cars more family friendly and provide every possible comfort, the car companies have actually made us too comfortable in what is basically a moving weapon. We moms live to some existent in our vehicles. We eat in there, we spend a great deal of time with our children in there, and yes we even talk on the phone, all while trying to drive. I even know a few moms, who shall remain nameless, who do their hair and makeup while driving. I think that the comfort and familiarity makes us too relaxed. There was a female comedian who once declared that drunk drivers are better than drivers who are eating because at least the drunks are trying to drive. She was trying to be funny, but she makes a good point. People like me, who would never even think about driving drunk, wouldn't think twice about eating lunch while in route to the ball field. How different are the two, really? Studies are saying that being on the phone or eating while driving impairs your ability to drive safely just as much as a couple of beers. That is a shock to me, and makes me think twice about some of my car habits.
While I am on the subject of car safety, I'd like to pass on a little tip. When you are backing up your car, especially from a driveway in a neighborhood, consider rolling down your window to allow you to hear everything that is going on around you as you move. This will help you to be more aware of possible dangers such as a dog off it's leash or a neighborhood game of hide and go seek that could have made it's way behind your car and out of the sight of your mirrors.
Dive Safely!

Fear and God

This afternoon we passed a pet store that was having a pet adoption day and for a change they we showing kittens instead of puppies. From the car (because I know better than to actually stop) the children were oohing and aahing over the cute little fuzzy kittens. Nix started wishing that Rocky wasn't allergic to cats and that her mamaw (my mom) was not afraid of cats. I should probably mention that although she is slightly better now than when I was a kid, my mother is terrified of cats, but has no idea why. They make her skin crawl as if it were a snake. Oddly enough, snakes don't bother her. She would stand in a pile of full grown pythons before she would touch a kitten. Anyway, JD pipes up and says, "We could pray that God makes Dad not allergic and Mamaw not afraid, and then we could get a kitten." Tonight, much to my surprise, he followed up that thought during nightly prayers by praying for those exact things. I have to admit, I am pretty curious to see if it is indeed in God's vast eternal plan to cure my mother of a life long fear.
Another fear came up today that I was not expecting. As I was tucking JD in I sang him a song called "Hush My Dear". It's a beautiful song about God being with us and protecting us while we sleep. JD seemed to have something heavy on his mind. He asked me how would he be able to find me in Heaven after we all die and then he burst into tears. We had a nice talk about Heaven and angels, and I had to assure him that I would meet him at the gate. I'm trying not to go all Freud on this, he may in fact be concerned about how Heaven works, but he is also about to start kindergarten as well as move to a different part of the church for Sunday School. I'm wondering if he is feeling insecure heading into new places and he chose the ultimate unknown to voice his fears.
The night ended with me praying with him for understanding and security. I am curious to see how much of this late night talk will get carried over to the morning. It could be a really fun day for his Sunday School teachers.

Bragging and Nagging

I have noticed that on more than one occasion Rocky's business trips have dissolved into a bad John Candy movie. I thought we had escaped that trend with this latest trip to Jacksonville. Both his fights were smooth and on time, no luggage was lost, or trains missed. He didn't even get sick this time. He called me when he landed in Atlanta and said he would call me again when he got to his car. After a pretty good length of time he called me back and told me there was a problem. His car keys were missing. He thinks they got left in the security tub in Florida. I need to drive down to the airport to take him his spare set. Did I mention it was 9 at night and the airport is an hour away, oh and that the city of Atlanta stands between me and the airport? Thankfully my parents had stayed the week with us, so we decided to just all pile in their van and head out (yes, that is my parents, both kids, and me). I have only been to the airport a couple of times and even then it was daylight. Dad drove. Even he got a little unnerved navigating the 14 lanes of Atlanta traffic in the dark when we weren't 100% sure where we were going. When we got there it was so crammed with cars that we practically had to toss the keys out the window to him. Two hours and almost 100 miles later, we were all home safe and sound.
Now that I have told the bad on him, I must follow up with the good. Rocky went to Jacksonville to argue a case against Countrywide and try to make them buy back bad loans that they made. They presented 17 loans, 9 were won on the spot, 5 were sent back for further review (at least 3 of those should be wins), and he only lost 3. To put it in perspective, people usually only win about 3. In 2 days he won his client just over $7 million. Needless to say, they were happy. Now if he could just get a bonus of a 1/2 of 1% of what he has won... ah, if only!
Just to be clear, Rocky is the mortgage insurance company's expert witness in the informal meetings against mortgage companies. If the cases go to court he will have to testify, but it is in the mortgage company's best interest not to let it get that far.

My Closet's Closet

The house we live in was once the model home for this neighborhood and as such it comes with more than a few quirks. For example, we have a glass pane door to our garage instead of the usual solid door, also to run lines for our t.v. we had to go to the attic and through the upstairs linen closet. Perhaps the oddest thing about our house is the closet within a closet in the master bedroom. We have yet to figure out what the room was originally used for but the mass of wires hanging from the top seems to indicate it was some sort of electrical storage room. My closet is not huge, but it is a good sized master closet. In the back corner there is a very wide slatted door that opens to a smaller unfinished space. When I say unfinished, I mean only two sides even have dry wall and even that has construction notes hand written on it. it looks like they meant to take a sledge hammer to it and finish out the rest of the closet like normal when the office folks vacated, but I guess they forgot. For the several years I have gone back and forth as to what to do about this closet within a closet. This week I have finally organized it. I put in a large set of plastic utility shelves. Now I can fit all my luggage and a good bit of random junk in there as well as my vacuum cleaner and even my bathroom cleaning supplies that I have been dying to get out of my linen closet.
I do have one tiny confession to make. While I was cleaning it out I noticed that there was a bag in the very bottom. In the winter "Santa" tends to store stuff in there and it seems that a couple of years ago one sack got left behind. It was a very cute flower picture frame for Nix, which I am trying to decide if I should just give it to her lest I forget again. JD took the box for the shelves and turned it into a club house

Brain Overload

For the first time in years, our vacation to Jackson had corresponded with my uncle's visit as well. JD has never really met his Great Uncle Lee and Great Aunt Cathy, so he has been very excited to get to know them. Today we were discussing with him different ways we were all related to Lee. We explained that he was my uncle, my mother's brother, and that Cathy is his wife. It was at this point that JD made a noise something like an explosion and exclaimed, "My head just exploded!" I honestly have no idea where he comes up with these things.
After we calmed down from laughing my mother insisted that I must blog about this. JD piped up again and said "But how do you spell { insert exploding noise}?" Obviously, I have not figured out how to best spell it. You will have to use your imagination.

My Super Power

Although I do not know anyone that can fly or has super human strength, I do know of a few people that have an unusual ability rarely seen. Take, for example, our friend Jim, every time he orders a milkshake at a restaurant their shake machine is broken. I know everyone has had this happen a time or two, but Jim has not had a drive-thru milkshake in going on 15 years or better. He has given up trying to order them. He has even had one breakdown just after the person in line in front of him got their shake.

I had a friend in high school that repelled technology. She could sit down at a computer, not touch anything, and it would start having issues. I was beginning to think she had one of those weird magnetic fields surrounding her. I can just imagine her trying to use one of those self check lines at Kroger. The last time I talked with her the power was wearing off and she was even able to finally send out emails.

My personal super power involves animals. If I ever draw attention to an animal then inevitably the animal picks that exact moment to relieve itself. It has gotten to be a running joke in the family, especially on car trips. Again, I know that this is just something that happens, but with me it is about 9 out of every 10 times. Today's trip to the zoo was no exception. At one point my father told me to stop pointing out animals because he would like to see one that wasn't pooping. The farm exhibit was especially bad. The worst by far was the chimp that took the time to climb a rope over to where I was standing and drop poo right in front of me. Even while we were watching hummingbirds at my parent's feeders this morning I actually saw two different hummingbirds leave droppings. On the bright side, seeing a tiny bird squirt tiny poop tickled Jack to no end. Rocky says they should rent me out to zoos as a natural laxative. All things considered, I think reading minds would be much more fun.

notice the panda poo- that was all me :)

Old Navy Coupon

A few weeks ago I was able to score an Old Navy Coupon for $75 off a $100 purchase. Nix and I had some great mother/daughter time and left with awesome clothes. This week Old Navy Weekly will be having a coupon worth $65 off $100. The trick is, you'll have to be on their site within about 5 minutes of them loading it and then be lucky enough to click on the right hidden spot to find the coupons.

OR

You can got to this lovely blog http://tinyurl.com/nhmjja Who will be randomly giving some away to readers. You get to enter once because you love Old Navy, another time for facebooking it, a 3rd for twittering, and 4th for blogging about it... all in all there are 6 ways to enter you name into this contest, so head on over and comment to her before the 4th.

You Tube'n

Somehow I have ended up with several different circles of online friends. I have local friends, high school friends, family friends, and a few blogger friends I have never actually met in person. From time to time someone from one of these groups will send me a video from You Tube that is hyesterical, but then I quickly forget which circle of friends has seen it and which hasn't so I end up not posting it at all. So, today, I will be posting some of the videos I have been sent that are too good not to pass along. If you have seen one, or were the one who sent them, enjoy this little trip down memory lane.
From the blogging friends: Interestingly enough, I found this one on the recommendation of a group of women who were all Asian.(watch to find out why that is funny) Click here for direct link


From family: This one comes thanks to my sister-in-law after spending some time around college kids. It is an actual music video from India with subtitles of the words it sounds like they are saying. This one is not good to watch with children who can read. If the player isn't working click here


From high school friends: My hip hop rap loving friend who also happens to be a short (very) white woman who lives in South Florida now with her husband and son.
I'm sorry to say, it won't let me embed this one so you'll have to follow the link. It is the Soulja Boy set to clips of Winnie the Pooh.
click here

From my local friend Mendy (and especially for my friends from WBBJ who worked on many a local commercial with me): Here is the link for this one

The Uncle Theory

My mother and her sister both married men named Bill. This means that regardless of which of the three siblings you are an offspring of, you have at least 1 Uncle Bill, which prompted my brother Matt to declare one day that, "everyone has an Uncle Bill". I got curious and began asking around. As it turns out, most people I know of my generation have either an Uncle Bill (or William) and/or an Uncle Bob (Robert, Bobby etc.). Rocky had one of each, as did I, if you count great uncles in this. Most of the exceptions I have found are people that either do not have uncles, or their family is of a nationality that does not traditionally use names like William or Robert.
Recently I was scrolling through pictures on facebook and noticed a trend. It seems that several of my children's friends have an Uncle Matt. Even if it isn't an uncle, we know a lot of people with a Matt as a close family member. This has brought me to the conclusion that Matt is the new Bob/Bill.
I really don't think this cycle will be able to continue for my grandchildren. We are in that odd group of people who took to naming their children random surnames, a whole new breed of unisex names like Peyton, and trying to be creative with spellings. However, there are a lot of Jacobs out there, so maybe there is hope for the uncles of tomorrow. Oddly enough, according to the Social Security Administration, William and Matthew are both still in the top 10 baby names. Maybe that means that children will go on having Uncle Bills and Uncle Matts for generations to come. I know we have been blessed by ours and hope the trend continues.

Open Book Policy

I am trying really hard not to force my parenting style on others and I am having a hard time keeping my mouth shut about something. This is why having a blog is so awesome. I can post what I'm thinking, get it out of my system, and hopefully not blurt out personal opinions at the wrong moment.
When Nix was 8 she asked a question about something that lead into "the talk". Mostly I let her ask questions and answered them as honestly as possible, but we covered a lot of ground that day. Since then she has had other questions that she has brought to me and I have answered all of them. I've encouraged her to ask anything that comes to mind. I want her to be ready for the changes she will go through and the things that life will throw her way. What I didn't realize is that this is not what every mom does. To me, waiting on talking with your children about adult issues is like not teaching a kid to swing a bat until they have already been hit in the head with a baseball. If your children feel like you are shutting them out now, then when the time comes for them to share with you, they will shut you out.
This year in school they divided up the boys and girls for the nurse to talk to them about "health issues" in regards to puberty. Nix asked to be excused from the class because, as she put it, "I'd rather learn about these things from my mom than a school nurse in a room full of other girls. I trust my mom to tell me the truth." Yes, I did burst with pride that day. I may have even teared up a little.
To date Nix and I have covered some about sex, drugs, pregnancy, STDs, alcohol, smoking, swearing, modesty, puberty and all it's ugliness, self respect, molestation, and even a few topics about boys. In fact, just today we had talk about long term consequences for short term enjoyment. It was mostly about why huffing and the like are idiotic, but the lesson applies to a lot. My goal is to train her to ask me questions when she becomes curious about something. It helped me skip that dangerous experimental teenage phase, and I am hoping it will do the same for her.
Okay, it's out there. That is my parenting style. Others may differ and that's okay. They can be wrong. It's a free country :)

Pratice Make Perfect

Yesterday my children were being unusually good. They were playing quietly together. There was no yelling, or screaming, or noticeable fighting of any kind. Naturally this made me suspicious. They had to have been plotting something. So, I stop what I am doing and listen. They appeared to be doing nothing wrong, but that couldn't be right. Finally, I stopped them and asked what they were up to. "Nothing." Isn't that always the standard answer for trouble? I continued to pry. This is when Nix "confesses". She explained that they were just practicing being nice to each other. Her theory was that if they could try to be nice to each other a couple of days a week then maybe it would stick. I encouraged them and praised them for their efforts and waited until I was all the way out of the room before laughing. I don't know how they came up with this plan, but the past two days have been down right peaceful at my house.

Smooth Talker

To those of you who have daughters around the age of my son, let me just go ahead and apologize now. In our attempt to raise him as a well mannered sweet young man we have inadvertently created a tiny 5 year old player. Somehow he has caught on to things some grown men have not figured out yet. He knows how and when to compliment a lady of any age. On Sundays, he always make a point of telling me AND his sister that we look beautiful before we get in the car for church. I have heard him compliment other women and a few little girls when he thought they had dressed up or changed up the way they look, such as a new haircut. He has several of his sister's friends wrapped around his little finger and there is a 5 year age gap there! Sure it's all giggles and "he is so cute" now, but what about when he gets to be a teenager? What are we going to do with him then?

We had a few minutes with just the two of us yesterday and he was telling me that he was unsure of who he would grow up to marry because, "There are just so many cute girls out there." He also added that it was a shame that he couldn't just marry me. He was probably most disappointed by the news that Aunt Becca was off limits as well because she was already married to Uncle Bo.

He has already worked his magic on the girls at preschool. My personal favorite was Cate because when he introduced me to her, she pointed her finger at him and said, "You listen to me, when I'm a teenager, I am going to college." He had the great come back of, "When I'm 5, I am going to kindergarten." He has also been sweet on Catherine, Morgan, and Peyton, who he once referred to as "his wife".

We better get busy on the restraint and values talks with this one.

Memorial Day

Every year our church has a wonderful Memorial Day service. We have a bagpiper and drummer usher in the colors for each of the branches of the military. Regardless of how you feel about bagpipes, I promise watching that display will give you chills. Then my husband Rocky has the honor of playing Taps. By the time the service is over all of the women and most of the men have had to pull out a tissue. Being the sensitive girl she is, Nikki asked me why I was crying. I guess she was concerned that something had made me sad. I wrote her a little note that I would like to share today.

Memorial Day is a day to honor the people who have died serving our country in the military. On days like today I am reminded of the price some have paid for my freedom and for yours. I am so proud and honored to live in a country like ours, and humbled by people who very literally give their lives to insure that our freedom is sustained. I'm not crying from sadness. I am crying because I am so filled with emotions that they had to spill out and they do that is the form of tears.

It started all over again this morning when I heard part of a speech Ronald Reagan gave on the subject. He closed with the line, "Thanks you, and may God cradle you in His loving arms."

I hope you all enjoy this Memorial Day!

Our Star Trek Top 10

Top 10 things we wish old Spock had told young Spock.

10. Goatees make you look evil
9. I know Saavik is hot but there is a good chance she is your daughter, so hands off
8. While on Omicron Ceti III don't inhale
7. T'Pring is just not that into you
6. Save the whales
5. Tell Kirk if you appear dead and McCoy is acting logical, don't toss your body out the window
4. Let sleeping Khans lie
3. For a good time call Nurse Chapel
2. If Sulu invites you to his quarters, pass
1. Klingons + Tribbles = good fun

Please feel free to add your own, and yes I know I am a huge geek.

Too Rich or Too Thin

We have all heard it, and we have all probably even said it. You can never be too rich or too thin. It's not true, at least not anymore. Oddly enough the reason why goes with another famous saying. The only certainties in life are death and taxes. If you are too thin you could die and if you are too rich you get taxed right out of it.
It has been on my mind a lot this week. It started on Sunday with a lesson on Proverbs 30 where a man is actually praying not to be too rich because he fears it would lead to him turning away from God. It is certainly not a common prayer I'd bet.
Then there was a news story about a beauty pageant contestant in Australia that everyone is saying is too thin. "Her bones are showing", they gasp in horror. She maintains that she has never had an eating disorder, that she is full of energy, and that this is just normal for her. Still everyone scoffs, everyone but me that is. She is 19 years old, 5' 11", and 117 pounds. I ran the numbers and when I was her age, my height to weight ratio was actually lower than hers. To be perfectly honest, it still is. I have never had dilutions about my body. I know I'm thin, I know I have been too thin, but I also know that I am not too thin now. Too thin was the day at the height of my digestive problems when I stepped on the scale and it said 89. I cried that day- a lot. I was not healthy that day. Today, I am happy to say that I am at a healthy weight for me, and that is all any of us should ask for.
I think I have mentioned it before and I know it isn't popular, but think before you criticize someones weight, even us skinny folks. I have struggled with my weight most of my adult life. Just because I'm not trying to lose weight doesn't make my struggle any less real or my feelings any less fragile.

Home and Healing

I'm not sure why my last post didn't post on Facebook. That app. seems to be hit and miss. Anyway, I'm a full week out of my surgery and doing well. My surgical healing is going great, but I've got a bladder infection from, well, let's just say the hospital stay. Once it clears up I suspect I'll be feeling much better.
Through this I could really see God watching out for me. There were some little things that I certain would not have gone as well if it weren't for prayer. First of all, after my surgery I was to go to extended recovery. They are tiny rooms with no windows and a shared bathroom. There wasn't even a place for Rocky to sit comfortably through the night. However, after I got out of surgery I was looking pale (go figure) and so they kept me there longer and all the extended rooms were filled. They had to put me in a room on the 3rd floor, which meant a bigger room in the regular part of the hospital. I have been told that my recovery care was much better than it would have been otherwise. Just as we were about to try to sleep for the night a tech came in to take my vitals and noticed that we didn't have "one of the good chairs" for Rocky. She had noticed one in an empty room and helped us swap out our chairs. If you have ever spent the night as a visitor in a hospital then you know that getting a good chair is a big deal.
Another thing I a thankful for is that the doctor found what she was looking for and nothing else. The problem I was having in sort of an invisible problem. There is no test that can be run that can tell for sure if you have endometreosis. They have to do surgery. In the back of my mind I was a little worried that they would open me up and say, "I don't know what your problem is, you looked fine." , or even worse, find they the problem was something different and more serious. Instead they opened me up and found exactly what we thought they would. They took out what needed to be taken and cleaned up the rest. It can be a little scary giving a surgeon permission to "explore". I could have woken up with no appendix or gall bladder, but all of that is still intact and doing whatever it is that those things do.
I have a cute kid story to add. This week my father took the kids down to the neighborhood playground. there were some wasps buzzing around, so they came back early. I asked Jack if he had fun and he said, "No. There were wasps and one flew in my face and I screamed like a little girl!"
If you want to see the posts that Facebook didn't show you can visit my personal blog:
http://www.rixie4.blogspot.com

All the details

My life is an open book, I guess it would be more accurate to say an open blog. Growing up in a town where you are related to every third person doesn't lend itself well to keeping secrets, so I just never have. At times my book has been a bit too open. This may very well be one of those times.
I'm having surgery on Monday. It will be an extended out patient surgery, meaning I'll be there 23 hours because I need to be in the hospital overnight, but insurance doesn't cover a hospital stay for this type of thing. I should be back to driving in a week and back to my version of normal in about a month.
That was the short and sweet version. I am now about to begin the TMI part of this post. Stop reading now if you don't want to know.
After several years of dragging my feet, jumping through hoops for doctors and insurance companies, and being uninsured for a time, I am finally having a hysterectomy. I am not counting on this to be a cure all. I will probably still have problems with my digestion, and I'm keeping my ovaries so that pain won't be gone either. What this will fix is the extreme cramping and excessive bleeding. After having a month where I almost passed out from the pain and another where I was light headed from passing too much, I knew I had to have this done.
I feel that this is a positive thing in my life. We have two amazing children, and although we might would think of having #3, I am honestly scared of what another pregnancy would bring. I kind of wonder if, in part, the trouble we had with both pregnancies wasn't God preparing us to stop at two. Although I am admittedly nervous, I can not help but feel that removing an obviously defective part is a step in the right direction.
I'll be going under the knife Monday, April 6th at 7:30 a.m. est, so stop and think of me and pray that all goes according to plan. Or, since it is Spring Break here, add my name in to your prayers the night before, and enjoy sleeping in on a weekday.
I'll post when I am on the other side. Wait! I phrased that wrong. I'll post again when I am home and feel like sitting at the computer. I hope everyone has a great week!

Ketchup

When I was in the 6th grade I had a teacher that liked to start every Friday class with a joke. Most of them were really cheesy, but I looked forward to it anyway. One that has stuck with me inspired the title of my post. What did the father tomato say to his son when he was falling behind?
Anyway, it has been awhile since I posted just for fun. I got a professional blog, started writing one part time for someone else, and moved to FB instead of MySpace. Today I have a bit of a cold so I'm not doing anything on my day off except relaxing, so I thought I would revive my old blog and see if I could figure out how to link it to FB.
I just signed up for Twitter. I've had a couple of professional types ask me if I tweeted (or whatever), so I decided to sign up. People in the blogosphere think I'm hip and cool (funny, right?) and I didn't want to get left out of the trend. Now I'm having second thoughts. From what I can tell, Twitter is just making it easier for stalkers to keep up with their prey. You want to know what Tina Fey had for lunch or where Martha Stewart is spending her weekend? Just follow them on Twitter. You get messages from people telling you what they are doing at any given moment. When I first started I saw a message for one of the people I follow that said something like, "Call into my show and ask me your questions now. I have some extra time today." and it included a phone number. For half a second I thought, "Wow, she wants me to call her and even gave me her number." Before the thought was even fully formed I was laughing at myself, but I am mentally healthy. What about all those nuts who think Charlie Gibson is sending them coded messages in his ties each night on the news? Aren't we just fueling their flame?
Although my blog has gained in popularity this year, I doubt I will ever have a stalker. Still, I can't help but wonder why people who don't actually know me would want to follow me on Twitter. I am now very tempted to put silly and random things on my Twitter feed. Maybe I will post "I'm watching you watch me" or "I'm having peanut butter for lunch, or am I?". I could post random lines from movies or songs just to throw people off.
Speaking of movie lines, JD has taken to quoting movies at random moments. The other day I was telling him "no" and he looks at me and says, "No? No? Is that the only word you know? No?" then he grinned. It was a line straight from "Enchanted" that we had watched a couple of days before. Since then he has quoted several more movies. Who knew that was hereditary?

Insurance?

There are many things you should have insurance for. Your house, your car, and your life are the big three. What I don't understand is why there is insurance for shipping. If I pay for a package to be delivered in one piece, then shouldn't it be a given that it arrives on time and in one piece? Why do I need to pay an additional fee to make sure they do their job? I can see it, maybe, if you are shipping something worth a lot of money that was also breakable, but for an envelope with paper in it or a small box containing 1 book? I don't think so. Can you imagine if other businesses tried this? "Now that you have ordered your dinner, would you like to add insurance just in case we screw up and bring you cold chicken a hour late?" It gets all over me that movers dare to charge you an insurance fee. Am I not hiring you on promise that you will deliver my belongings back to me and in good condition? Shouldn't they be the ones paying for the insurance? Should I really be the one who foots the bill for your possible incompetence?
Now I probably need to explain where this anger is coming from. UPS has lost one of my packages. I paid for 2 day air to make sure it was here on time. It should have been here no later than Monday. It is now Friday and they are fully admitting that they have no clue what happened to my package. They have also been nice enough to tell me that although they have a state of the art tracking system, it will take up to 8 days to find out where it went. If at the end of 8 days they still don't have a clue, they will start the process of looking into maybe replacing the item. Normally I would laugh it off and go on. I can wait. This time is different because they are in possession of the present I am giving my mother-in-law for her birthday/Mother's Day. We are heading to see them tonight. It is the only chance my sister-in-law will have to see it because after this visit they are moving to China for no less than 2 years with no trips home planned. Every time some customer service rep says they are sorry for any inconvenience I want to yell at them that they can not even imagine the trouble this is causing.
Well, I'm off to call them again. I need to double check that they got my zip code right (one last ditch effort)

Still In Shock

As I am typing this out I am still in a bit of shock. Although I guess I shouldn't be because I know how God likes to surprise me. No, I'm not pregnant so just calm down, but it is pretty big.
As you may know, I have been packing up for us to move. What you may not know is that we were actually moving to a smaller house to decrease the amount we pay per month and further tighten our belts. With my husband being in the mortgage industry, this turn in the market has really been hard on us. We rent the home we are in now and have for 2 1/2 years. We like it here but the rent has steadily gone up over time. We both felt that God was calling us to be ready to move. I just didn't know how. We didn't have the money to move (it's expensive, you know). We didn't have a place to go. I knew God was going to have to open every door for us.
We have spent the last few months getting ready to move even before we knew where we were going. I looked for another house to rent and started sorting out things we didn't need to move. Many of those things ended up in the yard sale we are having this weekend. One of my friends found a house for us in her neighborhood. It was empty and in need of repair. I called the owner. It was just the right size, just the right price, just the right school district, just perfect. He needed until June to get the house ready, which again fit our needs perfectly. He was willing to work with us on the deposit. We found movers who were good and affordable. It was really too good to be true, but I knew that God had been pulling strings for us, and I have been trusting in that. Something, by the way, that does not come naturally.
Everything has been progressing flawlessly. On the 1st we gave notice to our landlord and started getting things together for the new one. On the 2nd our current landlord called and offered to lower our rent to match the price of the other house.
I did not see this one coming. I was so ready to give up our comfort and move. I have boxes packed. I have downsized a lot of our things. I have repaired things and cleaned things and mentally unattached myself from stuff. It never crossed my mind that God would reward our faithfulness by allowing us to stay. I never even thought to ask Him to.
God clearly provided this home for us the first time and has provided it for us again. This day has been full of surprises, but certainly none as big as this.
In case you are wondering, the man with the other house is going to be just fine. He really needed something to get him to work on the house instead of letting it sit empty. He is going to put it on the market, and in it's new condition and price range, it will probably sell quicker than most. I know I'll be praying for him, and that God has a family just waiting for that house.
More than once I have called upon the Lord to be our Jehovah-jireh The Lord who provides, and over and over again He has proven Himself faithful, merciful, and wise beyond all men in the ways He has provided. I can not express the praise I have in my heart today. Every time I try it comes out in tears instead of words. Hallelujah! Thine the glory!

When Annie Says Jump

You don't spit into the wind, you don't tug on Superman's cape, you don't pull the mask off the ole Lone Ranger, and you don't ask Annie Leibovitz if she has got your best side. Annie Leibovitz is probably the best known photographer of this day and age. She has taken some of the most breath taking pictures ever. The campaign she did for Disney was sheer genius. She takes pretty celebrities and makes them more beautiful and women like the Queen of England and presents them in a way befitting their title. Given the opportunity to have my picture made by anyone in the world, from any era, Annie Leibovitz would have probably been at the top of my list. And, if that once in a lifetime chance came along, I doubt I would be asking too many questions. I think I'd be afraid to.
Now, imagine that you have been given that chance and you are 15 years old. At what point do you stop this living legend and say, "I'm not sure I comfortable with this." Would it even cross your mind that the pictures being made were not in your best interest? Would you think for even a second that maybe she was taking pictures that made you look like you were doing something wrong? I am betting that she is extended a certain amount of leeway when conducting a photo shoot. She is probably given the benefit of the doubt.
Now, it would seem, Annie Leibovitz has taken advantage of that, and in doing so, taken advantage of Miley Cyrus. Whether Miley or her parents are innocent in all of this is irrelevant. The fact still remains that Ms. Leibovitz should not have taken them in the first place. She has embarrassed a young girl and herself in the process. I hope people stop pointing at Miley long enough to think about who is really in the wrong here, and in my opinion, that is Vanity Fair and Annie Leibovitz.

Moving On Over

My family is moving. It is a local move which will not require us to change churches, phone numbers, or even schools, a feat I thought was impossible in this town. It does, however, necessitate that we scale down on the amount of stuff we have gathered over the years. This is easier said than done, especially when I have children watching me sort things. Every toy I dig out from the bottom of the toy chest is someone’s favorite. Never mind that it has been down there for at least two years, they have outgrown it, and even when the batteries were good, they rarely picked it up, now it is something they can not bear to part with. Finally, I got smart and started doing my sorting during school and nap hours. Things progressed much quicker from there.
The next thing for me to tackle was my husband’s stuff. Little did I realize he would be worse than the children. He likes to write notes on the backs of envelopes and other scraps of paper while he is on the phone. The problem is, you can’t read the notes, he doesn’t remember what exactly it is pertaining too, but he does know that one day in the future he is going to need it, so just put it in a box and we will store it in the basement. I still have at least three boxes of these in the garage from the last move that have never been opened. After some reasoning, and sorting, and a sad moment where we donated a pair of pants he finally admitted he would never fit into again, I was done packing his things.
I’ve packed dishes, and pictures, and all sorts of things, but I save my biggest hurdle for last, my stuff. For all of the grief the rest of the family gave me during this process, I know the single biggest baby when it comes to sorting the trash from the treasure is me. We have been here before and I know where it ends. I’ll be sitting in a pile of old letters, magazines, and never finished craft projects, crying because I have tied emotions to the stuff. I have confused memories with belongings. I have made these things my security even though I know in my heart there is none to be found in this stuff.
It’s funny how easy it is to see this problem in my children, my husband, my mother, my neighbor, but I fall into the same trap over and over again anyway. I honestly never realized I was placing so much value on these things, but when you are sitting between a box and a trashcan it becomes really clear.
Each time I move I get a little better at packing, a little better at organizing, and this time I am getting better at letting go. I prayed my way into this move and I will be praying my way through it as well. With God’s help, I am placing my security where it belongs, with Him. The things of this life are temporary and it is about time I started celebrating that instead of fighting it.

Being Dyslexic

There was an article out today about a teacher who has decided that dyslexia is just an excuse for middle class people who are poor readers to get special treatment. Since I am dyslexic, I did not take this well, and I thought I would explain some of what it is like to be dyslexic.
The first real sign of it is having trouble with left and right. I remember my mom sewing an “L” and an “R” on my gloves to help me. When I give directions you have about a 50-50 shot and me telling it all backwards. I’ve learned to point as I say it to make sure I’m saying the right one. If I am trying to follow directions I have to triple check myself so that I don’t turn the wrong way. That is probably the most frustrating part.
The next thing that happens can be really embarrassing, especially as an adult. Reading words or numbers out loud is terrifying to me. Something short circuits between the page and my mouth. Many people just think dyslexics see letters backwards, but it is a lot more than that. Letters can get jumbled, you can add letters where they don’t exists, or disappear all together. If I don’t follow along with my finger, entire lines will disappear on me. Some days are better than others. If I’m tired or feeling out of sorts then I don’t even try to read. It is just too frustrating. Now imagine all of that happening in your mind while you are trying to vocalize what you are reading. When I was in the ninth grade I had an English teacher that thought the best way to help me was to make me read out loud as often as possible. It was completely humiliating. I was a good student. I always made good grades, but my grade plummeted in her class. I wish I could go back and tell her the damage she did to me that year.
All of this applies to numbers too. Thankfully, I had math teachers who understood what I was going through and would just take off a couple of points if I reversed the answer. There were times that I would reverse a few things at the beginning of an algebra problem and from that point on the problem would be wrong. When I was in advance math classes my teacher took the time to work the problem as I had it written and if I did the work right, I got partial credit. I wish I could tell her how much that helped me.
Believe it or not there are actually benefits to being dyslexic. I have a partial photographic memory. When there is a word that I have trouble with, I close my eyes and picture the word. If I can make it three dimensional in my mind, then I can usually spell it. A good example of that it the word “flour”, I picture a flour canister with the word written on the side, and I haven’t misspelled it since the 5th grade. That one was hard on me because I memorized how to spell “flower” first, and my brain could not understand why you would spell it any other way.
I can read maps and other diagrams in a very special way. When I see a floor plan of a house I can visualize it as if I was walking through the home. Even with the left and right problem, I am never lost. I may have to point to tell you were to turn, but you will never get me lost. It is like I have a map in my mind. If I ever do get turned around it is probably because I haven’t been paying attention.
So, the next time you are reading something I have written and I have something completely misspelled, please remember that I literally can not see the error, and never ever ask me to read more than a sentence to you out loud to you.

Laundry means I love you

It is funny how family rituals get started. JD and I have a sweet one for bed time and I’m afraid if I don’t write about it, I’ll forget how it started, and then it will be more weird than sweet.
When bed time rolls around it is the child’s job to make you stay as long as they can thereby delaying sleep, and the parent’s job to find a reason to leave and still let the child know you love them. We make up little excuses that make it seem like we would sit with them all night, if only it weren’t for some little task that has to be taken care of. Rocky likes to use the line “It’s time for me to go check on…” and then name someone not in the room. I tend to put the blame on some chore that has been left undone. During JD’s nap I like to put in a load of laundry because it is something that can get done and not wake him up. I didn’t realize I had gotten into the habit until I was tucking JD in. I kissed him on the head and he looked up and said “You have to do laundry?”, and with that a tradition was born. Now every time I put JD into his bed be it nap time or bed time, I kiss his head and simply say “Laundry”. He smiles and I think he knows that when I say that I’m really saying “I love you!”
Years from now when he is grown and married and has kids of his own, I hope this comes back to him as a good memory and not some weird obsession with fabric softener.

Curl Up and Dye

Only my love of writing could bring me to share what I am about to tell you all. I have had a day of one embarrassment after another. I had to be at church at 8 last Saturday morning to help set up the OUTDOOR Preschool Easter Egg Hunt. If you weren’t aware of the weather in my area at that time, let me fill you in, it was cold. Not Atlanta cold, but freezing 29 degrees in windy April kind of cold. It snowed near me. It hasn’t snowed all winter, and it picked that day. I’m telling you this not because anything bad happened there, but to excuse the rest of my day. I was working with less sleep than I needed, and a think the cold may have killed a few brain cells.

That afternoon we popped into Wal-mart to pick up a variety of last minute Easter type things. We had ended up going in two cars, our car and my visiting parent’s car. When we headed out to the parking lot I was dragging behind because I was putting up the cart, and trying to grab my sunglasses. When I did get out of the store I realized that since Rocky had dropped me off at the door, I had no idea where he parked. Just then I saw my father’s minivan backing out of a space. I decided to run up to it, hop in, and call Rocky to tell him I was riding home with them. There was only one problem. After tugging at the door of the passenger side of the moving van, I realized it was locked. Then I looked at my dad to get him to unlock it. He couldn’t do that because I was actually trying to open the car door of a complete stranger. I think I scared the poor woman to death. I don’t think I fit the profile of a car jacker, but in the heat of the moment anyone can look dangerous. I am grateful I don’t live in Texas, she might have shot me.

That night we had all sat down for dinner. My earlier actions were the butt of several jokes. After all, my parents were visiting and my father has a knack for not letting things go. He was merciful and we were all enjoying our wonderful ham dinner. JD got restless, as he often does at meal times. He was finding reasons to get up, goof off, and anything else other than eat his food. Suddenly he started looking at me funny and pointing at me saying “What’s that?” We thought he was joking around or asking about the food I was eating, but he became more insistent. Finally, he got up, walked around the table, and tried to get in my lap the whole time pointing and saying “No, that!” This would be the point where Rocky starts laughing. Without going into much detail, it would seem that I needed a tissue and JD was merely wondering what I had up my nose.

After dinner it was time to dye Easter eggs. We covered the table and laid everything out with plenty of paper towels. There was a long explanation about how the dye would turn other things colors too and we all had to be very careful. Guess who ended up with blue hands. That would be me. Just as I was placing an egg ever so gently into the blue dye, it slipped off the spoon and splashed into the dye. I looked like I had grabbed one of those dye packs they use to mark bank robbers and the money they steal. After some intense scrubbing I finally got all the blue off my hands and most of it out of the corners of my finger nails.

So that was my Saturday. I tried to car jack someone, had a bat in my belfry, and tried to turn myself into a smurf. I hope your Easter weekend went a little smoother.

Why is the night unlike all other nights?

Usually as Easter approaches my mind is filled with important things such as what will I wear to church, does Nix have new white shoes, will I be able to find a ham to cook for lunch, and lets not forget those Easter Bunny baskets I have to put together. I hope you all know me well enough by now to know that I also set aside time to rejoice in the excitement of Reserection Sunday, and all that it means. I have to admit that with all that going on I rarely stop to think about the meaning behind this week. I'm talking about Passover. Jewish families all over the world are getting ready for their Passover Seder. Even though I am not Jewish (by religion or descent), Passover is still an important part of my religion as well as history in general. If you aren't fimilar with a seder it is a meal in which the elders of the family tell the children a story from history and answer questions about the past. A Passover seder tells the story of when God helped the Isrealites escape from Eygpt and their lives of slavery. This exodus marked the birth of the Jewish nation. It is tradtion to have the youngest person at the table to ask 4 important questions. All the questions start with "Why is the night unlike all other nights?" and then continue on to describe something that makes that dinner unusual. It starts with asking why you are only allowed to eat unleaven bread. The Jews left Eygpt in such a hurry that they didn't have time to wait on bread to rise, so they took it from the ovens still flat. You eat bread without yeast in it to remember their haste.Why are there only bitter herbs? To remind us of the bitterness of slavery.Why do you dip your herbs twice into salty water? First to turn tears into joy and the second time to ease the bitterness of loss and suffering.Why do we lean back in our chairs? During the time of slavery the slaves were required to eat standing up or, at best, sitting upright. Reclining in your chair to eat is a privilege of a free man.After these questions have been asked and answered, the children are encouraged to ask other questions they might have about their family's faith. There are 15 steps to a Passover Seder, each one rich in tradition and meaning. I often wonder if in the business to prepare the meal, Jews lose sight of the importance of this tradtion in the same way many Christians forget to enjoy the importance of Easter. It usually hits me about the time the paster stands up and says "He is risen!"He is risen indeed!I may not hold a jewish style seder in my home this year, but I am going to make a point of telling the story to the children and encourging any questions they have.

p.s. my spell check wasn't work, so please ignore any typos.

Funding the arts

written 3-13-07
Remember when you were a kid and every year your school would have the same old tired fundraiser? Well, the gift wrap is still being peddled each and every year, but that's not all they are pushing any more. This year Nix's school is having an art show to raise money for the art department. The art in the show is done by none other than your very own child. A company professionally frames your child's masterpiece, charges you $30 to buy it, and the art department gets some of that money for new crayons. I got this really cool invitaion. It has a spot that says "FEATURING" then my child's name and the picture she made. Who could turn that down? Part of me is really impressed at how clever they have been to find a different way to raise money, and another part of me feels like a sucker for paying $30 for my own daughter's refrigerator drawings. None the less, we are headed to Nix's very first art showing tonight. I'm sure it will not be her last.
She had a clever use of color, and the contrast in light and shadow is so well developed. Okay, so it isn't Van Gogh, but I'm okay with that. Afterall, Van Gogh was a loon who cut off his own ear, and I like Nix's ears right where they are.

Heartbreak Hotel

written 2-14-07
You may be expecting a nice little blog about love or some other Valentine's Day topic, but you won't get that from me. I have a bad history with the whole day of love thing. My sad story starts long before I met Rocky, so don't blame him. The few good ones I have had are because he became determined to turn things around for me. This is not one of those years, but again, not his fault. I'm really starting to think that Feb. 14th is worse for me than any Friday 13th ever could be. Now that I have told my sad tale, I'm moving on.Right now I'm wondering if Elvis is nature or nurture. I'm not exactly a big Elvis fan. I have one or two Elvis songs on my MP3 player. I don't own any Elvis pictures, teddy bears, shirts, etc. There is no Elvis on velvet at my house. I guess what I'm saying is, I have a healthy love for Elvis. The funny thing is, my kids are suddenly crazy about Elvis songs. Nix has about a half dozen of his songs on her MP3 player. JD keeps asking to hear "Rock-a-hula". Have I somehow unknowingly contributed to this, or is it because Nix was born in Memphis. Maybe there was something in the water there that I passed on to her in the womb. I knew the day would come where I would not understand my daughter's taste in music, but I thought it would be over a boy band, not Elvis.

An Apology

written 1-20-07

Brace yourself. I got an apology from my home owner's association. Sometime ago, I wrote about getting a letter about our yard. Rocky was having breathing trouble, and we went on vacation, so there was a good ten days that it went uncut. Never mind that the grass is slow growing and barely needed a trim. At the time I just vented on here and tried to let it go.This week I had the opportunity to talk to a member of a different HOA committe. I think we have more committes than a Baptist church during a remodel. Anyway, I told her what happened and she apoligized. Then I got an email from the head of the grounds committee and he apologized, and offered to help in the future.I found out that a single lady in our neighborhood had been diagnosed with cancer and had been trying to still keep up on the yard work during her treatment. After getting a few letters she finally swallowed her pride and told the board she was sick. Her yard was cut the rest of the summer by various neighbors. I don't know if it was good will or guilt that got the grass cut, but either way, the letters stopped. The odd thing is, I "what if'd" about that very thing in my blog. Maybe I'm psychotic, I mean psychic.It just goes to what I was saying back then. Is it really so hard to knock on a neighbor's door to see if they need help? If they turn out to be nasty, lazy people then write your letter, but if instead they are in need of some compassion, you may find yourself in a position to be a blessing in someone's life.

Tipping a bad waitress

written 1-11-07
Do you tip a bad waitress? I'm not talking about the one who accidently brought you Coke when you asked for Diet. I'm talking about the one who, in addition to the mixed up drinks, they mess up your order, leave one order out, bring cold food 10 minutes after the kitchen made it, makes insulting comments about people they work with, and have questionable cleanliness. Do you have trouble walking away from that table leaving behind an obvious sign of what you thought of her job performance? It occured to me the other day, while I watched a bag boy at Kroger put a bag of flour on top of a loaf of bread, that I don't speak up for myself when I should. Oh sure, I'm all mouth when it comes to friends and family, but when it comes to total strangers that I might not ever see again, I'm mum. Why is tipping now a requirement? I would love the opportunity to give people silent feedback on their jobs, but the one chance I get to do that, I wimp out. Having been a waiter himself, Rocky can not leave a table without tipping. In all our years together I have seen him do it maybe once. Tipping is suppose to be an option. I hate it when you go to a resturant and at the bottom is says it will be adding 15% tip to your ticket. This actually ties into something I was just reading about. The government wants to increase the minimum wage again, and thereby raised the cost of living, and the cost of many services across the nation. How does that tie in? Well, basically the government wants to tell companies that they have to give a big "tip" to their workers even the ones who don't deserve it. Shouldn't we all make what our market value is and not what the government thinks we should make. I'm sure the concept started out with good intent, as most government programs do, but somewhere things went wrong. They want to give our lowest wage earners a 41% raise. When was the last time you got that kind of raise. $7.25 to forget to put fries in my kid's Happy Meal, to put up a hazard sign up instead of moping a puddle, to throw a paper that lands in my bushes. If this increase does go through I may find myself able to resist tipping bad waitresses afterall.

The Day the Easter Bunny Killed Santa

written 12-15-06

This Christmas is going to be different for us this year. I'm not one to push the idea of Santa. Kids are going to believe on their own and I don't want them looking back on things thinking that I lied to them. I answered all questions as vaguely and honestly as possible. Nix knew that we paid for gifts from Santa and that is why different kids got different price ranges of presents. She wrote him a letter of thanks and left milk and cookies out. She wanted to get him a present to put under the tree . (Yes, my kid is really that good). This year all of that is changed and I blame the Easter Bunny. Nix came face to face with the mall Bunny this year, and that set her on a line of questions. Was the real bunny giant? Where did he live? How does he get around? Then came the big one. She said "I want the truth, is the Easter Bunny real or pretend?" I couldn't lie. I leveled with her and she was okay with it. Then a couple of days later she lost a tooth, and she realized the tooth fairy wasn't real either. It was a good week before she came to me about Santa. She has handled it really well, and hasn't told any of her believing friends. JD has noticed Santa, but he doesn't really get what Santa is all about. So, for this year, we have no one in the house that is excited about Santa. I guess there is always next year.

Is the force with you?

written 11-10-06
During my daily surf of the world's news, I ran across a video of a couple dressed up like Jedis along with a wookie apparently marching outside the U.N. offices in England. As you can imagine, I had to know what they were doing. It turns out that we just had International Tolerance Day which is sponsered by the U.N. These three people had come to ask that they change international to intergalatic. I kept watching hoping to see the men in white coats with nets come and drag them away. Sadly, that never happened, but something else interesting did. As the man was stating his case he mentioned that according to the last census report there were 390,000 people in England who listed their religion as "Jedi Knight" making it the fourth largest religion in England and as such should be recognized as an offical religion. Having already gathered that this guy was off his rocker, I didn't put much stock in it. Afterall, he had also claimed to have met his better half while attending the Jedi Academy on one of the moons of Pulto. (Please don't get me started on the whole "not a planet" debate, that is a whole different blog). As it turns out, his numbers were right. In addition to the 390,000 in England, there were 20,000 in Canada, 53,000 in New Zealand, and 70,000 in Australia. It is actually 4th in England, but even crazier is that in New Zealand it is second only to Christianity. That is a total of 533,000 people! Even if the majority did it as a prank, that still leaves people out there who have based their religion on a work of confessed science fiction. Come to think of it, in a way, so have Scientologists, but according to the numbers I'm seeing, there are less of them than Jedi Knights. It 's times like this I think to myself WWYD (what would Yoda do). I think he might say "Lost their marbles have they. Unfortunate it is."

Is it safe to blog?

written 9-29-06
Blogging may be the only thing it is safe for me to do now.The day started with JD having croup. Then on the way to take Nix to school I got a flat tire. Rocky came to my rescue and it was then time to take JD to the doctor. The doctor confirmed what I thought and put JD on steroids. Then he tells me, "Oh, that will make him hyper". JD hyper, great. What he should have said is that it would give him endless energy while at the same time making him beyond grumpy, as well as giving him a need to sit in my lap and yell all afternoon. Somehow with all this I still managed to get stuff together for the "Treat the Troops" packing today. Six dozen homemade cookies, magazines, and various "add water" foods. Where that may sound like a lot, it was a mere drop in the bucket to what was being sent out today. I would have loved to stay and help but I had the croupy kid and sister with me.When I got home I notice a piece of trim that has been coming off the garage door was finally about to fall off. Being the "can do" gal I am, I grabbed a hammer. The good news is I fixed the trim. The bad news is I hit my thumb in the process. I've decided it would be safer to not do anything else today. I can't take any more. I even left out the part of my day that invovled poop and a running faucet (be glad). Also, JD has decided to go potty standing up like a big boy. Do you know what happens when a little boy sneezes while tinkling? I'll leave you to ponder that one

Hypochondria

written 9-19-06
I was reading about hypochondria today and now I think I have it. Just a little medical humor, but I did have a moment of that today. I was having a very yummy salad from California Pizza Kitchen today when I realized it had fresh spinach in it. Normally I would love a salad with fresh spinach, but since there is a big e coli threat right now, it got me worried. Now I have indigestion and my first thought was "I have e coli!". This is silly on so many levels. First of all, I have indigestion about 5 days a week. Second, eatting salad as a meal always gives me some level of indigestion. So, why is it my mind jumped to a gross virus that hasn't even shown up anywhere near where I live? Of course, if it turns out that I do have the e coli virus I'll be sure to say "I told you so" to all those who doubted me. I'd like to end by reminding you all that it is not hypochondria if you are really sick. Now I'm going to take two Tums and put on my strechy pants.

Hold on to your hats

I've been away for awhile because I discovered Myspace and have been blogging over there. I realized that by making my page ultra-private, I have denied web friends the pleasure of my musings. Well, no more. I am about to start the copy and paste process, and there will be a ton of new things to read here.
Enjoy!

Love thy neighbor's grass

I have recently had a run in with my HOA, for those of you unfamiliar, they are the dreaded neighborhood watch dogs. Apparently it is unforgivable for your grass to go uncut for a whole week and a half while you are out of town. The last time we went a little long between grass cuts Rocky was horribly sick and trying to cut the grass would have made it even worse. We were in a different neighborhood then, a friendlier neighborhood. I told everyone what was going on and we didn't get a single complaint about our yard even though the back got pretty bad at one point. I feel so sorry for our next door neighbor because they have harassed her into hiring a lawn service. I wish these people with too much time on their hands would stop and think before they write one of those tacky notes. I can just imagine some poor man finding out he has cancer and then coming home to a note from the HOA about his yard. Which do you think he is going to care about? If it bothers you so much maybe it would be a better use of free time to cut your neighbor's yard for them rather than writing notes about yard care. It could be that this family has something more important on their minds than measuring blades of grass. I can't help but point out the Bible has a lot to say about loving your neighbor and surprisingly little to say on the subject of yard maintenance. I don't recall "Thou shall not allow weeds to grow in thy neighbor's yard" being one of the Ten Commandments. Lucky for me there is also nothing in the big 10 about not toilet papering a snotty neighbor's yard.

To the movies

Rocky and I enjoyed the rare treat of going to the movies this weekend. Like everyone else on the planet we went to go see Pirates. It was a really good movie, but a devil of a cliffhanger. Now I have to wait until next year to see what happens. I hate that. I'm not good at waiting.Speaking of waiting, Rocky like to get there a good 45 minutes before the movies starts which leaves a lot of time to sit. After we have made fun of the ads that the theater runs on the screen because $8 isn't enough money, we turn to movie talk that, I'm sure, drives the people around us crazy. The problem is we often forget actor's real names and just go with whatever role we remember them best for. For example, if we were talking about Pirates we might say Edward Scissorhand, Legolas, and that girl who wasn't the girl in Star Wars star in the movies. The Shine guy was the bad guy the first time, but in this one it is Slartibartfast. Sure we can remember Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom, but who can think of Bill Nighy or Jonathan Pryce? It is easier just to say the Tomorrow Never Dies guy. If you think that is bad you should hear us talk about X-Men. So if you sit next to us the next time we get out be sure and bring your pocket movie guide if you want to ease drop