Funny is funny because it is TRUE.

I just got this email from one of my favorite friends ever, Melissa. I'm telling you like I told her, I needed this laugh today, lest I run away from home.

It's been a beautiful day. (Now's when that sarcasm font would be handy-dandy.)

Like I said, this was an email, so you know, completely plagiarized.

(I should know because one day, I "plagiarized" one of my parents' signatures on a Disciplinary Action Report, and then I had to write the Webster's full definition of plagiarism pert-near a thousand times.)(I still hate my parents for that one.)

(The actual amount is a bit cloudy, but I still have a pencil groove in my ring finger on my right hand to prove it was a whole HECK of A-Bunch.)

(There went my hand modeling career, like a fart in the wind.)

Anyway, I hate to put off the laughs, so let's move along, shall we?

-I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.

-More often than not, when someone is telling me a story all I can think about is that I can't wait for them to finish so that I can tell my own story that's not only better, but also more directly involves me.

-Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

-How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

-I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.

-The only time I look forward to a red light is when I’m trying to finish a text.

- Whenever someone says "I'm not book smart, but I'm street smart", all I hear is "I'm not real smart, but I'm imaginary smart".

-What would happen if I hired two private investigators to follow each other?

- Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

- I find it hard to believe there are actually people who get in the shower first and THEN turn on the water.

-I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.

- Bad decisions make good stories.

-Why is it that during an ice-breaker, when the whole room has to go around and say their name and where they are from, I get so incredibly nervous? Like I know my name, I know where I'm from, this shouldn't be a problem....

-You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you've made up your mind that you just aren't doing anything productive for the rest of the day.

-I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.

-I hate being the one with the remote in a room full of people watching TV. There's so much pressure. 'I love this show, but will they judge me if I keep it on? I bet everyone is wishing we weren't watching this. It's only a matter of time before they all get up and leave the room. Will we still be friends after this?'

- I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.

-When I meet a new girl, I'm terrified of mentioning something she hasn't already told me but that I have learned from some light internet stalking.

-My 4-year old son asked me in the car the other day "Dad what would happen if you ran over a ninja?" How do I respond to that?

-It really ticks me off when I want to read a story on CNN.com and the link takes me to a video instead of text.

-The other night I ordered takeout, and when I looked in the bag, saw they had included four sets of plastic silverware. In other words, someone at the restaurant packed my order, took a second to think about it, and then estimated that there must be at least four people eating to require such a large amount of food. Too bad I was eating by myself. There's nothing like being made to feel like a fatso before dinner.

Laughing must really be good for you, because I just laughed a bunch and now, I'm slightly less twitchy and a little more certain that everything is gonna be OH-KIZ-AY.

The silver lining: Where there's smoke, there is NOT fire.

My house smells atrocious right now.

Atrocious.

I was feeling very domestic earlier and set supper to start on the stove and decided to bake some egg-free sugar cookies for my allergy ridden family to enjoy.

(Actually, only the baby has the egg allergy but earlier in the week, I made chocolate chip cookies that he was denied so I was feeling bad for him.)

Supper was to be bean burritos, but I had to cook the dry beans first. I set them to boil, added some water a bit later as I saw the level dropping and then headed outside and promptly forgot all about it.

Much time passed (probably close to an hour) and my Sweet Pickle asked to come inside for some milk and then came quickly back out the back door exclaiming, "Mama, the house stinks. Why do your beans smell like that?"

"Oh my gosh! The beans!! I forgot all about them!"

There goes supper. It's looking like a great night to eat out.

The house is hazy like a youth function. Fans are on high, windows are thrown open and I keep spraying Oust, only to see it (smell it?) quickly defeated by the ghastly bean odor.

In conclusion,
Today will be "affectionately" remembered as
The Day She Set The House On Smoke.

And also, the day I changed the smoke alarm batteries,
because they have made nary a peep in all this excitation.

What is best for YOU

While it may not be insidious by nature, with my present circumstances it is most certainly insidious to me.

insidious - awaiting a chance to entrap; harmful but enticing; having a gradual and cumulative effect
syn. treacherous, seductive, subtle

Facebook is the beast of which I speaketh.

I think we can all agree that by nature, Facebook cannot be called a beast.

What I'm talking about here is conviction. Mine. I've been under some heavy stuff since I was recently challenged by this question:

What is the purpose in your pursuits this past week?

These words struck me, too:

Every commitment needs a purpose you can articulate & define.

We must learn to differentiate between distractions & duties.

Well okay then. That certainly clears things up then, doesn't it?

How does Facebook fit into my life? Distraction or duty? Can I articulate the purpose of it for me? Yes. It's a diversion from my duties, which is to say it's a diversion from my family.

For clarity's sake, the only reason I felt any conviction at all is because I know the time I've spent there, "just checking". I've begun to think in terms of status updates. My life is not a series of status updates.

We're homeschooling this year for the first time, and when I consider the purpose behind that, it makes the whole issue of Facebook very clear for me... and nothing grand just happens, I must remind myself.

Self to self talk: Well then ya know what ya gotta do, huh? You gotta drop it like it's hot!

And so that's what I aim to do - because I want to run as to get the prize, not chase multiple pursuits aimlessly.

So, at some point today, Facebook will suddenly drop off my radar.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

When I went to Bible Gateway (which is a great site, by the way) to get the "prize" reference, this is what greeted me at the door:

“This is what the LORD says—
your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel:
"I am the LORD your God, who teaches you what is best for you,
who directs you in the way you should go.”
Isaiah 48:17

Left to myself, I would chase rabbits and shiny things (and Facebook) all day, and then complain at the end of the day (or at the end of my days) that my life is what it is. I know, because I already have that nasty habit.

I am so grateful for the leading of my Redeemer (who redeems me from myself, among other things) because His guidance leads down the roads that lead to the desires of my heart...
family togetherness and a house filled with love...

Unpacking Your (lengthy list of) Adjectives

This year, being our first year homeschooling, there will be many days that I have to get things done and I will have to learn to brave the rapids (of grocery stores and car rides and such) with all three of my squeamish children and no one else.

This weekend, I got the chance to practice.

But Mama didn't raise no fool. It was the weekend, which meant I might not have to go it alone. I'll practice next time.

I called my sister (Backup! Holla!) to see if she'd like to come along with me (and my three wretched little shoppers) to go do a little shopping. She said she'd be delighted (or something like that). All I heard was yes, and I was golden.

Together, we braved a few fierce stores, and the callousMall, which is no debonair task. Thankfully, one of the stores had an enclosed play area, with a high, resolute wall, in place to discourage climbing out (which almost worked).

SIDENOTE:
I just love it
when a children's store
is set up in a way that
makes room for actual children.
I find it incredibly helpful
and supremely awesome.
Thank you!

We shopped close by and kept our eyes on the kids while they had the most fun shopping in as long as they could remember. (It was also the most fun I've had shopping with kids in as long as I could remember.)

It's not that they're bad shoppers. I mean, they are, but it's because they're just not made for it. Their Mama loves to shop and I have to explore all of my frumpy options before making a decision which makes for deranged and nostalgic shopping trips.

We figured we could tackle that lugubrious beast, the Mall, mostly because we could bribe them with treats, like candy and McDonald's. We went into a shoe store where I had to continuously remind them to stop taking the dashing shoes off of the crispety-crunchety peanut-buttery shelves to ask us if we liked them or thought they were cool. How 'bout asking me if I think my head might explode, because yes, Yes, I think it may!

When it was finally all said and done, we made good on our putrid candy and chicken nugget promises, and partook of a few of the boorish tasties ourselves. French fries can cure almost any ailment, far as I can tell.

In closing, if you elect me President, I promise that all stores will have a high-walled embankment for keeping little ones safe (perhaps from their own mother's who might squish them in an effort to just make them be still for goodness sake). And also, every woman will have a sister to shop with at all times. Amen.

(All adjective offerings have been underlined and linked wherever possible, and do keep in mind that they were chosen at random. Thank ya very muuuuuch!)

May I Have A Word? | Chapter 3

I've always been a big, big fan of Mad Libs, especially for the element of surprise. It's something that snagged me way back when, in like, middle school, and has never turned me loose. But I don't mind, 'cause I had love them lil' Mad Libs. It's a match made in Heaven. God made me to love language, and then He made somebody else make Mad Libs. And then we met, me and Mad Libs, and I fell in love.

So, as a way to work that sort of fun into my little blogging world, I'd like to present to you the May I Have a Word, Unpack Your Adjectives Edition.

By way of review, in case you're a little foggy,
an adjective modifies a noun, distinguished by one of several suffixes such as -able, -ous, -er, and -est, or by position, directly preceding a noun or nominal phrase.

Here is a short list of possibles:
colossal
lumpy
paltry
unkempt
husky
glistening
thrunchy

In order for this to work like actual, real live Mad Libs, what I'll do is write down your offerings and draw randomly from a bowl and use them when I find myself in need of an adjective... and perhaps, I'll write a little more descriptively, to make more room for more adjectives.

Also, I have not forgotten about your other offerings that have not yet seen the light of a posted post as opposed to a draft --- they will soon surface as well. Do not despair.

So go on now, and Unpack Your Adjectives so I can use them to tell you my tales.
And have a pleasant day!

With age comes oversharing?

I'd like to talk a little today about some of the particulars of aging, as it pertains to certain ones of the female persuasion.

I think we all know the expression, "With age comes wisdom". How about the slightly less known, "With age comes too much information". Heard of it? Well I propose, even if the expression is unknown to you, the concept is not.

I recently met a lady in passing; let's call her Lucille, shall we? Lucille and I chatted a bit as women do, making small talk. Shortly thereafter, a friend of hers, whom we'll call Pearl, walked up to us and greeted Lucille.

Keep in mind that these ladies were standing within arms reach of me, and I don't have excessively long arms, which means that I can hear them, and they know that I can hear them, and also bear in mind, I am a complete stranger to them both.

Pearl says, "Hey Lu, how ya doin?"

Lucille responds, "Wellll, I have a yeast infection and hemorrhoids so, you know, I should probably be home with my feet propped up instead of in here shopping."

I don't think that's what Pearl was gunning for.

This sort of reply always puts someone (who thinks you're crazy) in the awkward position of having to respond.

Let's keep going though, shall we? How about another example of this most troubling phenomenon?

My friend tells tale of the day a woman left her Grandfather in social difficulties. She describes her Grandfather as a very conservative, and very, very private man. One day, a family member shows up to his home. As he opens the door to her he says, "Hi so and so, How ya doin'?" She throws her hands in the air over her head and says in exasperation and with great energy, "Not too good! I'm bleedin' from the rectum!"

What happens between 17 and say... 50?

At 17, girls are mortified and prepared to drop out of school, and may even write into a magazine that bears their age telling of their most embarrassing moment, if they come out of the bathroom with a tiny piece of toilet paper hitchin' a ride on their shoe. It's too much to bear.

Fast forward a few years to age 50 and beyond, and you will see a loss of restraint that is staggering, where women will say in front of anyone what is going on in the area that was once known as private.

I understand that not every woman suffers from this affliction, but it is rather common. Common enough that you probably have a story yourself. If you don't, I'd bet the farm that you know someone who does.

Risky Business

My tongue might fall off.

It just might.

This sauce might also burn a hole in my intestines and ruin my liver.

Then again, it might not.

I'll take that chance.

It all started at the sushi restaurant
with the spicy mayo.
Where it stop,
nobody know.

Sugarhead, The Entertainer

Sugarhead uses half words, which I cannot get my fill of. For instance, she'll say she wants to watch teev, or she wants to go to the lib (long i). That apple didn't fall far from the Let's Talk Ghetto tree.

She also loves long walks on the beach and spends her free time making up words.

My most recent favorite came last night after bath time. Let me illustrate.

"Look, Mama, look! Look at my fingers", she exclaims, spreading her little hands open for investigation. "They're all cruffled."

Cruffled -
to soak, fill, or saturate with water so as to make soggy

synonyms: water logged, prune hands

She doesn't mean to be so entertaining. She just is.

{You can't have her. She's all mine.}

Make a wish

The dandelion radiantly shining in the grass like a spark dropped from the sun.
Henry Ward Beecher

The miracles of nature do not seem miracles
because they are so common.
If no one had ever seen a flower, even a dandelion
would be the most startling event in the world.

The Lord, our God, He is splendiferous!

Famous Last Words

Not much changes around here. Whenever people ask what's been going on, the answer is typically, "nothing new".

With the exception of the occasional illness or broken household item, things are pretty consistent.

This week though, I have something new to tell.

Something I've said for the past 6 years that I would never do.

Never.

It would take a miracle of such proportions that it is inconceivable that it would ever happen.

"Never", I said.

And then God chuckled, and He giggled, and He laughed and laughed and laughed.

Because He always knows something I don't; He knows what's coming, and I don't.

Until I do.

Dude.

This year, for the first time ever, I will be homeschooling.

Yeah, let that soak in.

(Y'all. I swore I never would.)

But the times, they are a-changin'. (Sing it, Bob!)

I do not pretend to know the full-extent of God's reasoning behind all of this, but there are a few things I hope to gain from it.

There is one major thing I want for our family, and that is for us to be close-knit... for our children to be in close relationship with each other, and for them to also feel safe, close and open with us, their parents.

These desires have been in my heart, ever present, since I became The Mama.

This whole thing just makes me laugh a little. It's so typical to have things work out in this fashion -- in a way that I get what I want, but it comes in such a manner I'd never have expected!

(Kinda like in the very difficult, early years of our marriage when we had 2 kids right out of the starting blocks (and I thought our ship would sink)... but God knew exactly what He was doing, because those babies kept us together when other things fought with all their might to pull us apart, and may well have succeeded if not for them... it would've been too easy to walk away. Having them turned out to be very good for us.)

The same is true even now. There are other things fighting against me, all the time pulling at me. Developing the closeness and togetherness I want for our family takes so much effort, and so much death to my flesh.

But I want it.

... and nothing grand just happens.

Love, God

If you want to know how much I love you, count the waves.

Regret

More often than not, the sentiments I hear on regret go something like this:

"I don't regret anything. Everything I've ever done / been through has taught me a great lesson, and therefore, I have no regrets."

By definition, to regret is
1) to feel sorrow or remorse for an act, fault, etc.
2) to think of with a sense of loss.

When I look back over the course of my life, especially where I was about 10 years ago, I have a strong sense of regret. My heart is heavy with a sense of sorrow and remorse, even now. I hurt people. I did awful things that I knew would cause other people serious pain.

How can I now look at my actions and feel thankful for the "lesson" that was in it for me? That, to me, is even worse than the initial offense, which was grievous. How could I elevate some lesson over the pain I caused to someone else's heart. Who can say what difficulty they've had to endure because of my choices? Is any lesson ever worth that?

I should think not. Emphatically, I say no.

If I had it to do all over again, there are things I would do differently, and that, to me, is the essence of regret. I pray for the people that I hurt, so that their hearts can know healing and true peace... that their hearts can be healed from the pain I put there. Truly, I want it to be taken away and that they will know the love of God that is theirs in Christ Jesus.

And just for clarity's sake because I can already sense the direction of your comments, I am not talking about not being able to forgive myself or even making an effort to make restitution. I am satisfied, on both accounts, and yet, regret still remains.

So don't y'all go worrying ya little heads about me. I'm not sitting here in some depressed stupor. I just had a few thoughts on regret. That's all.

And I'm curious to know, what's your view on it?

Do you think this guy was a Boy Scout?

Hurricane season is upon us.
Thankfully, there's been nothing brewing to cause alarm.
However, if something does begin to churn out there, I don't think this guy plans to evacuate.
This, my friends, is preparedness... the likes of which I have never seen.
I like to think I've seen alot, but this.... I stand amazed.

You may recognize these pictures from my photo blog, {Verbs & Nouns}.
This is what (this) one does when (this) one is too lazy to post something else.
Besides, you may not know about my other blog, and I think we can all agree, information like this must be shared.

Let the record show, I'm only being redundant in order to better serve the people.

Lead the way and we'll precede.

I've not forgotten to tell you all about the interview that took place this morning. I am prepared to do just that. Well, semi-prepared, which is why this is going up instead... interview + pictures + links to listen will be up later!

My heart has a deep affection for people who butcher well-known clichés. Well, not so much the people, per se, but for their mangled malapropisms.

Years ago, I had a friend named Jeannie, who was hysterical all the time and I adored her. I wish I still knew her. She was truly one in a million, a diamond in the rust.

Once upon a time, Jeannie was married to a guy by the name of Mouse, who was constantly misquoting things. So much so that she wanted to write a book full of them and call it, Straight From the Mouse's Mouth. She's a genius, you say? I concur.

And now I'd like to share some of my favorite verbal blunders with you (some Mouse's, but mostly not because sadly, I cannot remember them):

• She is a real catch! A diamond in the rust. [rough]
  
• Here Dad, would you like to cut the eucalyptus cord? [umbilical] {This would be one of Mouse's gems - the only one I can recall.}
  
• Oh! It gives me the hydrostatics to such a degree! [hysterics]
• Why, murder's the matter! Slaughter's the matter! Killing's the matter! --but he can tell you the perpendiculars. [particulars]
• He had to use a fire distinguisher. [extinguisher]
• Be sure and put some of those neutrons on my salad. [croutons]
• My new coat has lots of installation. [insulation]
• He's a wolf in cheap clothing. [sheep's]
• We have just ended our physical year. [fiscal]
• What are you incinerating? [insinuating]
  

Have you heard any good ones? Do tell!! And please, use one today while you're out and about. Just for the fun of it!

In Preparation for my INTERVIEW Tomorrow

Excuse me while I have a little F R E A K O U T!

Success in contingent upon...

...your participation.

Without you, there is no game, and that is just sad. We all need word games people. Come on now! Rally your enthusiasm! Don't let the government succeed at dumbing us down!

Go ye into the world (or dictionary)(or thesaurus)(or your preferred search engine) and bring me back some gems!

Come on! It'll be fun!

Go now... go read some books.

I Yam What I Yam

I hereby retract my statement that Sweet Potato ice cream is a comfort food. After 4 bowls in 2 days, I was anything but comfortable.

You know how your Grandma used to warn you about eating sweet potatoes while nursing because it was gonna give that baby the cramps? She wasn't kidding.

I am not saying that I'm writing it off entirely, and will never eat it again. That would be ludicrous. I do not exercise that much control over tasty foods. What I am saying is this:

Don't overdo it folks -- it will make you pay.

May I Have A Word? | Chapter 2

That's what I've decided to call the new word game.

And it's that time again, so serve 'em up!

I will attempt to have these up on Mondays from here on out, which gives me the week to work in the vocabulations. Today is Tuesday, which doesn't matter in the slightest. I'll work in the words anyhow, and next week, I'll set it to post on time.

BIDNESS: Instead of linking by way of naming the person who gave each word,
I will now link your site to the actual word (like I did in the previous post).
Thank you for calling. If you have any questions, please dial information.

THANK YOU for playing...

Now, may I have a word?

Multi-Topical and Disjointed: Welcome to my head. Let me show you around.

Pneumonia: The name of the thing that seized my poor Puddin', and attempted to consume us all this week -- also the reason behind my being, well, behind in the word game, and many, many other things.

Sweet Potatoes: Used to make me hungry for November--now makes me hungry for ice cream: Sweet Potato Pie ice cream... the name of one of many things that brought us comfort this week. Thank GOD for comfort! 'Cause sometimes life is hard, y'all.

In other unrelated news,
I made an interesting discovery during our stint. I am not of the [jentacular] sort, unless, of course, coffee counts as breakfast, and in most states, it does not.

Jentacular -- Of or pertaining to a breakfast taken early in the morning,
or immediately on getting up.

However, if in the hospital, I am otherwise persuaded. See, they serve up blueberry muffins with bacon, and also, ham & cheese omelets with bacon. At home, however, laziness (my very own) serves up coffee alone... and the brewing is completely Stretch's doing. All I do is mix it how I like it. Coffee is my "bre-fryst" (as Sweet Pickle says it--which I think is infinitely better than the original). The moral of the story: If you cook it, I will eat it.

In other, other unrelated and disjointed news,
I recently had the pleasure of sharing a new word with my BFF. I learned that one of her favorite scents, the smell of rain, is called [petrichor]. I really like that word.

Petrichor -- "Smell of rain". Petrichor (from Greek petros, "stone" + ichor)
is the name of the scent of rain on dry earth.

Also, I just found a sneaky little Diet Coke hiding in the back of the fridge. Today will be a good day. Amen.

Oblivious + Idiot = Obliviot

Yesterday I took all three of the kids to Target. (I appreciate your compassion.) Halfway through loading all of our items onto the conveyor belt (which leaves me with half a cart full of other items, in case you're doing the math), a guy with a large suitcase pulls up next in line. He takes his massive luggage and plunks it onto the belt.

Are you kidding? I still have HALF A CART FULL HERE, buddy. Wanna move your luggage?

No, he doesn't. He doesn't even try to keep it from moving forward. I have to unload at mach speed to ensure I have enough space to put my things down. The check-out girl looks at him and then back at me and gives me a look that says, "Is he for real?" And with my eyes, I say, "What is happening here?"

We communicate with our eyes, me and Check-Out Girl. She feels me.

My arms were moving so fast, getting the last of my loot on the belt, that they were a blur to anyone passing by. I was practically The Flash. (Except that for me, the speed was crippling, and when I was done, I was enfeebled.)

As I'm loading my bags into my cart, no lie, the guy plops this gigantic thing onto the tiny table (where you write your checks) and FLIPS IT OPEN! Oh. Yes, he did. And you know what happened? He knocked my groceries onto the floor at this poor girl's feet.

Me and Check-Out Girl? Our eyes are BUGGING OUT! "Can you believe this guy?!"

Not one apology, y'all. Not even a nonchalant, "my bad". NOTHING. Not a sound. Not even a grunt from this apparent caveman who is not accustomed to coming out into society where OTHER PEOPLE LIVE.

Unbelievable.

And every word of it, true.

Fount Drivel. The fount of never-ceasing overflow, apparently.

Oh look! I found another lost and forgotten almost-post. How very fortunate!

What is the weirdest food you've ever eaten? Doesn't that vary according to geographical location? I mean, I eat crawfish which is not weird to me, but I won't touch grasshoppers or sheep gizzard which may be a delicacy in other countries. Weird is relative. However, in my own opinion, I think maybe the strangest thing I've eaten is kangaroo or shark, or snail.

If you were to perform in the circus, what would you do? I'd like to do the thing with the long fabrics, where you're dangling from the ceiling. If I could do that, it would mean that I was strong. And lean.

Not to mention strong.

And lean.

What article of clothing most closely describes your personality? Eaaazzzyyy. My gray sweater coat.

Who was your favorite teacher and why? Ms. Short. Or as we called her, Lt. Short. She was my English teacher, and also my Advanced Comp teacher. I have two favorite things about her. One was that every day she gave us a new Word of the Day. And maaannn, I love me some words.

The other thing was this philosophy: Show, don't tell.

This woman has shaped my life in ways that she could never know. I'd love to know her again. She was brilliant. She grew up in Pennsylvania, came from a military background and was not Catholic like most everybody else in our tiny Catholic school. She was different in every way, and I loved her for it.

Still do.

What makes you feel the most secure? Family togetherness I think.

If you had a CB radio, what would your "handle" be? Didn't even have to think about this one...

Pegacorn.

Actually, you can call me that now if you want.

Even if we're not communicating via CB radio.

Which, I don't know how we could be, seein' as I don't HAVE a CB radio. (And it's not on my wishlist, either.)

I do like that name though. I like it a great deal. I'd like to adopt it as a nick. It would undoubtedly top the list... or at least come in second, just under Jedi.

Other than material things, what do you constantly think about? What to feed my family. Which I'm not entirely sure, but that may qualify as a material thing.

What is one of the strangest southern expressions (or other idiomatic expressions) you have ever heard? My personal favorite by far, is: Well, ain't this a fine howdy doo!


Now it's your turn. Fire away.

Because why do now what you can put off until you completely forget about it?

A long day ago, (as Sugarhead says), Mama Belle passed on this award to me.

{Remember that M.B.? Because I totally forgot until I found this draft.}

10 honest things about me...

1. When I incurred this injury last December, my toes were NOT polished.
I quickly realized, however, due to all the pain (OH GRACIOUS! THE PAIN!) that I would not be able to put that thing in a real shoe and I'd have to wear flip-flops to church, on the day of our Christmas production, in which I had a cameo appearance.

It's just like that old saying goes, "Nothing says Christmas quite like flip-flops and the smell of balsam pine".

Stretch gave the last call, "Y'all ready?" and I was all, "I'll be there in a second..." because I was busy polishing my toes mere minutes before Go Time. I am nothing if not vain.

2. Sometimes I think I'd like to pierce my lip (something dainty on the side) but I don't think it would be well-received, and also, (and more importantly) I am a wuss. And a sissy. Plus it doesn't really match all of my cottage-y décor.

3. People think I can make anything, but that's not true. I made clothespin angels with the kids that totally looked like dragonflies. I made them for the sole purpose of being hung on the wall above our Nativity. Y'all all remember the dragonflies coming to visit the sweet baby Jesus right? Yeah, well, they did. Y'all just weren't there to see it.

4. I love the word stupid. What else would you call this?

5. I do not like being publicly recognized, for anything. It embarrasses me and makes me covet the ability to evaporate (but then secretly still be in the room to hear all the nice things people wanted to say about me... because despite my neurosis, I'm always dying to know what people think of me.)

6. I'm honest, and I'm okay with that... because even if it means you might get mad at me, it still makes for the most authentic relationships.

7. I am guilty of looking more at the darkness than at the stars, despite my massive blog title up yonder.

8. Whenever I take quizzes, I tend to fall smack in the middle. Right or Left-Brained? I use both equally. (Secretly though, I wish to be right-brained). Introvert or Extrovert? 56% Intro, and I'm glad to be more intro than extro. Anyway, that's just a lil' [lagniappe].

Lagniappe -- something thrown in, gratis, for good measure.

[Thanks for that word, Mike. You chose something I actually knew!]

9. I have a general distrust of people who live in trailer parks. Stupid and short-sighted perhaps, but there it is.

And finally, 10. I wrote a book, which will land me some spots on radio talking about my book. The whole thing just makes me freak out a little and reach for my deodorant. See number 5.

I'm Published! Now, go ye and make us rich!

A Review: The Night I Went to a Dance Revue

In today's post you will find these words, proffered for such a time as this
by Rachel and Jackie, whom I adore.
Good words, girls. Who knew they'd fit my week so neatly?

Demarche -- A course of action; a maneuver.

Cancatervate -- To heap into a pile.

Mulligrubs -- Ill temper; colic; grumpiness.

And now, our story.

Approximately one and one half weeks ago, my friend Cassie and I made plans to attend a dance revue together (which I referred to in an email as a dance "review").

I hang my head in shame even now.

The day of the revue (which I will never ever misspell again, ever, in addition to the word "reservoir" which may or may not have stymied my taking STATE in the '89 (or was it '90?) Spelling Bee) arrived yesterday. Plans began to fall through around three o'clock in the p.m. Stretch would have to work late so I needed a new [demarche] for childcare. Yeeha.

After casting my net for a sitter in the form of a text message blast, I came up empty. My friend Angela, who'd come over that morning for a visit/play date, offered to come back and watch the kids for me so that I could keep my date. {She's a diamond in the rust.}

The plan of action: she'd go home, get her kids bathed and fed and come back, while I did the same here.

I began filling the tub to start baths and noticed the water pressure was low. I walked out to take care of other things (which I can't recall now) and when I returned, it was down to just a trickle, so I shut it off and proceeded to [cancatervate] the children into the tub and scrub them down in just a few inches of water.

A bath is a bath.

Having spent the day laying in the sun, my skin was not ready for the public. It was overladen (read: overloaded) with layer upon layer of Banana Boat Dark Tanning Oil. Hate the feeling, love the scent. The point though, was that there was no way I could show up to the revue (not "review" you dork) like that. And I had no running water. It was so uncivilized.

Suddenly, I remembered those three gallons of water that I'd purchased last year for hurricane season, that were still sitting under the carport. There are days when being a pack rat pays off. This, being one of them.

So with a gallon of water, I:

• Brushed my teeth.
• Wet a wash cloth and gave myself a quick, make-shift gypsy bath to knock the stank off, which there was plenty of.
• Wet, washed and rinsed my filthy head - which is extremely difficult to do with a jug of water that you're trying to reserve... because it was my last. (I'd already used up the other two.) Midway through the rinse, I set the jug down on the side of the tub, but instead of setting it down flat, I put in on the towel I had draped over the side, and then in all my klutzy glory, I knocked it over onto the floor, and watched 1/4 of my last gallon of water flood the floor behind my toilet. Wunderbar.
• Enter full-blown mulligrubs, rightly defined as ill-temper, colic and grumpiness. I was heavily afflicted with all three, with the exception of the colic.
  

It's now 5 o'clock, and Angela will be here at 5:30. My kids? Hungry. My hair? In a towel on my head. The house? Utter chaos. Meanwhile, I'm having to make some calls to get help with our water sit-chee-ation. Our neighbor? Offshore. Our other neighbor? Not home from work yet, but his bride say's she'll have him stop by on his way home. "Oh good! Thank you!"

Angela arrives and kids kick energy into maximum for game of indoor hide-n-seek. Super.

Meanwhile, I'm attempting to fix my hair (which I officially suck at) and walk out to answer the phone. Puddin' wanders into the bathroom (of course he does) and wraps his tiny hand around my very hot curling iron. My next move is swift -- to the kitchen to slather his little fingers with butter (because I remember reading somewhere that that takes the sting out of burns, but he's allergic to dairy, so I sure hope he doesn't have some sort of awful reaction to it on his skin).

The next series of events unfolds something like this:

• remember first aid kit in car and rummage until finding burn gel
• neighbor shows up to look at well
  
• feel embarrassed, out of control, and guilty for having to leave this mess with my house full of people that don't live here
• people total upon departure: 11
  
• supposed to meet friends at 6:15
• the next time i look at the time, it's 6:25 and I'm still at home.
• leave home when revue is starting
• Insanity. Insanity. Insanity.

I think I started breathing normally again somewhere around 7:30 or so. After the REVUE, we went for coffee. I had a steamed milk with vanilla. That, and the sweet girl time, was just what the doctor ordered.