Thursday, March 30, 2006

Are you a born cat-holder?

Last night, DD was playing w/her kitten. This is a very sweet kitten that was a much requested gift from Santa. "Angel." White with one blue eye and one green eye. Sweet little kitten.

Angel will be an outside kitty soon. She's already half-grown, but we've already lost one kitten to coyote (yes, there are coyotes in NE Alabama.) But for now, she sleeps in the basement half-bath.

It was time to put Angel up in her room for the night. To that end, I picked her up and flipped her onto her back to rub her belly a little. (She's one of those rare cats that loves that position.) DD wanted to pet her.

[pet pet pet]

DD then wanted to hold Angel. Then she didn't.

Hold her.


Hold her.


At this point, I want DD to hold the kitten too and get her to sit on the steps with her arms poised as if holding a baby doll. I have Angel in my hands and hold her out to put her into DD's arms. However DD's arms sink as Angel gets closer and closer. I place Angel against DD's tummy, thinking this soft, little kitty's warm, purring side will make DD want to hug her close. Nope.

DD is afraid Angel will scratch her. No arguments to the contrary can persuade her to hold her kitty.

DD panics as only a 5 year old can. She begins to scream. Loudly. This is the only thing that disturbed Angel, who is quickly placed in "her room." A good scolding from me makes DD more upset. She's now blood-red in the face, crying and screaming. No words yet, just screams. "Aaaaaahhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

She gulps a big breath and says to me "Mommy! I'm not a born cat-holder!!!!"



"OhhhhhhhK," head is turned, lip is bit, eyes are watering. (Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Don't laugh.)

From upstairs comes DH's acknowledgement of the tragedy unfolding. "What's wrong?"

Me: Can't answer. Trying not to laugh.

DD: "aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

DH: "What is it? What's wrong?"

Me: "IN A MINUTE!!!"

DH gets a good giggle out of it too.

What a kid!

Monday, March 27, 2006

Am I the only CRAZY one?

I'm beginning to think I am. But who knows. Maybe *I'm* the sane one and the rest of y'all crazy!!!

I was just looking over my blog here. I had added some links and the weather thingies and saw the pictures of my family. Therefore I saw the pictures of myself. And this thought actually crossed my mind. (Yes, I do have a mind!)

"Is that what I REALLY look like?"

And it wasn't one of those "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful" thoughts.

It was more of a "Don't hate yourself because of what you look like" thought.

(This topic had a lot more potential before my interruption.

Now I can't remember any of it.

As I review the above, I'm having some of the same thoughts as before. Deja vu all over again.)

As I was saying....

It was more of a "Don't hate yourself because of what you look like" thought.

I'm not an overly conceited person, I don't think so, anyway. I don't stare into the mirror for 2 hours while getting ready in the morning. I'm one of those who dries her hair, hoping it isn't going to go the wrong direction, because I couldn't use the curling or straightening iron (yes, I have both) to correct my hair's behavior for the LIFE OF ME!!! I merely use them to get a little lift or straightening or whatever they do.

Actually, I use the straightening iron on DD a good bit more than myself.

Just realized it's lunchtime and for ONCE I'm not hungry. That's strange. My stomach has a clock that very predictably tells me that it is 10:30. But it missed it completely today.

Sorry, should have warned you about that tangent. Today's attention deficit forecast is for a high probability of tangents. Take appropriate caution.

Back to my primping routine...

I'm pretty low maintenance. I haven't always been. But life would pass me by if I didn't reduce my personal appearance routine. I'll wear make-up a few times a week at best. I fix my hair to the best of my abilites everyday. I wear earrings 24/7 (my left earlobe is prone to growing closed if not constantly pierced) My watch and laptop interfere with each other. Since I have the OPTION of wearing a watch and my computer options are minimal, the watch stays on the dresser for nights out (vague memories of nights out) or church or other times when I won't need my laptop (aka Sally).

Everyone names their computers, right? My old one is now referred to as Ol' Bessy. My dad's old Dell is Old Blue. His new Toshiba hasn't been nicknamed yet, but Lucky seems to be my favorite, so far. Lucky seems appropriate as I was able to upgrade the warranty to include accidental damage coverage just in time for him to break the latch!

I warned you about the tangents. Stay alert! Both fingers firmly on the mouse!

You know how you think your voice sounds a particular way. THEN the most horrible thing happens. You hear your voice over an answering machine or voicemail. And you say, "Do I really sound like THAT? Turn it off. Turn it off!!"

That's what I'm experiencing over photos of myself while at Disney World.

"Do I really look like THAT? Delete that picture. Delete that picture!!"

I guess I thought my "angular facial features" (translated=pointy chin) were more Michelle Pfeiffery and less Miss Hathaway (from Beverly Hillbillies).

Tangent - did you know that the actress that played Miss Hathaway was also in Sabrina w/Audrey Hepburn? Yup. Saw it on AMC or somewhere this weekend and there she stood.

I think it would help if I were a litte LESS low maintenance. DH would like it. DD would have fun too.

We'll see.

Meanwhile, I have a bunch of pictures to paste Michelle's face into over mine.

Sunday, March 26, 2006

After Princess Storybook Dinner in Norway - Epcot.

Wake-up calls.

DH, DD and I went to Disney World (the Florida one). We stayed 'on-site', which I highly recommend! We stayed at the Pop Century Resort. A very fun hotel. Several (3?) swimming pools. Playground area for the kidd0s. Good food in the food court.

The rooms are just hotel rooms. Tv, beds, bathroom, telephone, table w/2 chairs, wall safe. But when you completely exhaust yourself walking MILES at the parks, all you want to do is sleep and bath and brush your teeth. And, trust me, you COMPLETELY EXHAUST YOURSELF!!!

Anyway, a cool thing about staying at one of the WDW hotels is the wake-up calls. Most of the time, anyway.

I had read on the internet about the wake-up calls. The recommendation is to set the alarm clock to wake up the adults and schedule a wake-up call for a time when the kiddos are already awake and let them answer the phone. Reason: Mickey Mouse or one of his friends are on the wake-up call. Cute, huh?

We arrived at WDW on Friday evening and very quickly set up our wake-up call for the next morning. I miscalculated DD's wake-up time. (Actually we slept in.) So, I answered the wake-up call and very quickly realized that we were at WDW during "ESPN the Weekend". Mickey Mouse wasn't on the phone. No cute characters were on the phone. There was some ESPN announcer on the phone. NOT AT ALL who I wanted to wake up my DD and get her magical WDW day started. (By the way, magical also means exhausting.)

This ESPN event occured at the MGM Studios park. But the ESPN guy on the wake-up calls was not WHY we came to WDW and NOT the voice we (I!) wanted to hear first thing in the morning.

Now, I love college football about as much as any other gal from the South. Heck, my id is AuburnGalAlways. There's a reason I chose that id.


This insanity ended on Monday. Thank goodness. And Stitch and Mickey Mouse woke us up the next 3 mornings. That was fun. DD loved it. So, of course, I loved it.

WDW was great. We completely enjoyed it. We spent too much money. We ate a lot. No, we ate too much. We took a lot of pictures and videos. We rode the same rides again and again. We ate with the characters and cowned around with them. We tried to make DD's dreams come true for a few days. We slept really hard.

And then I washed clothes for 7 days.

And now our credit card is due.

And life is magical at home too.

It was magical before we went. Dang! We could have saved a PILE of money!!!

Friday, March 24, 2006

How do you answer a question like this?

Night before last, DH was out of town. This means DD gets to sleep with me. So, as we lay down to go to sleep, I remind her to say her prayers. She says that she knows exactly what she wants to pray for.

I can imagine many things she would pray to Jesus about. A horse. Granny Carroll. Her best friends, Madison, Harley or Lauren. T-ball practice. Butterflies. Chocolate chip cookies.

But that night she said "I want Jesus to come and let me see Him. Wight here in the room."

Now there were MANY things that ran through my mind to ask and say about this prayer request. But I opted to ask her what she would do if Jesus did come see her.

"I would run up and hug Him!"

(duh!) "What would you say to Him?" I ask.

"I love you."

"What would He say to you?"

"I don't know. 'I love you too,' maybe"

"What do you think Jesus looks like?"

"He's tall and his skin is dark. His hair is bwack and He has a biiiiig smile."

"Is His hair long or short?"


"It sounds like Jesus might look a little like your daddy."

"Yeah, a wittle. But diffwent too."

So, still not knowing exactly how to handle this, I tell DD that I too will pray that God will give her what she is asking for. I also tell her that God promises to let us see Him one day when we get to heaven and that she just might have to wait until then.

Waiting is not a finely tuned skill of this 5 year-old. (Or this mommy.)

So, we drift off to sleep pretty quickly. Physical exhaustion will do that sometimes.

The next morning, I wake up hoping she had the most beautiful, peaceful, loving dream of Jesus in the bedroom with us and all the things she talked about.

When I finally wrestle her awake by taking off her pj's and putting on her clothes for the day, she doesn't mention anything about it. We go about our routine. Breakfast with Playhouse Disney. Brushing our teeth. Putting on shoes. Putting hair into pigtails. Feeding the kitten. Amazingly, fussing and arguing was minimal that day.

We are in the car, half-way to her preschool, before she mentions her prayer.

"Mommy, I didn't see Jesus this morning."

"You didn't? Neither did I. What about your dreams? Did you dream about Him?" (please, please let her have dreamed about Him)

"No. I didn't have any dreams."

"I don't remember my dreams either. hmmmm"

"Mommy, do you think Jesus is too busy for me?"

(whimpers, shrieks, prayers for help all scramble to be my first response. but I manage...)"Oh, baby. Jesus is never too busy for you or anyone else. He can do everything all at once. And your prayer was very important to Him. He heard it, I promise."


"And He promises that we will see Him in heaven one day. We might have to wait, but when we get there, it will be soooooo wonderful!"

"Mommy, I said 'ooooookaaaaaayyyyyyyyy'!"

So, did I pass that test, Lord?

Tuesday, March 21, 2006


I'll come back to this in a minute.

I've lived in Alabama for the great majority of my life. (Thank you, Lord!) My part of Al is in the NE corner. We have pretty mountains. They're not big mountains, but they're ours. I grew up on Sand Mtn. Just North of here, in Tennessee, that same mountain is called Raccoon Mtn. Just South, where this mountain begins to fade away to rolling hills, they call it Red Mtn. It's the same mountain. It's beautiful. It's probably more of a plateau than a mountain, if you account for its mostly flat top. There are places where you can stand and see for miles. Stretched out in front of you are thousands of acres of farms, homes, small towns, ponds... Beauty.

It's an interesting area. Lots of churches and lots of people attending them. Lots of hard-working, smart people. A college education or fancy-schmancy job title doesn't mean that you are smart. Not at all! Taking care of yourself, providing for your family and caring for your friends and neighbors - that's smart. Working with your hands, growing food crops, raising farm animals to provide food for millions - that's smart. Threading a knitting machine, seaming toes on socks, counting the number of tiny stitches in a square inch - that's smart.

That's the kind of people around here. Some have college degrees. Most have high school diplomas. Most of us work hard at whatever we do to make a living. We farm. We make socks. We care for kids. We teach school. We run businesses. We provide for ourselves.

Well, most of us, anyway.

But almost ALL of us drink tea.

Like I said, I've lived in Alabama the Beautiful most of my life. I was born here on an icy January morning. Raised on Sand Mtn until I finished high school. After high school, I had the distinct pleasure and honor to attend and graduate from Auburn University (War Eagle!) While at Auburn, I experienced no significant withdrawals from my sweet tea habit. The same brand of tea bags were in the stores there, as here at home.

After AU, DH and I moved to LA. Now, here in AL, LA means Lower Alabama. But that's not the LA I mean. I moved to Los Angeles. Up to that time, I had thought I might like to live in a big city. Nope. I'm a country girl and glad to be it. But in LA, they don't know what sweet iced tea is. They have lots of kinds of tea. Hot tea. Earl Grey Tea. Green Tea. Mango Iced Tea. Raspberry Tea. But no SWEET TEA!

DH encountered this before me while he worked on Long Island. Now that's a different kind of tea, but I won't get into that one.
While eating at a restaurant in NY, DH asked for sweet tea. The waiter probably noticed DH's thick Southern drawl and said, in his own thick non-American, non-NY, non-Long Island accent, "We have hot tea. You want hot tea?"
DH: "I want sweetened iced tea."
Waiter: "No sweet tea. You want hot tea?"
DH: "Do you have just iced tea and sweeteners?"
Waiter: "No icy tea. No sweet tea. You want hot tea?"
DH: "Do you have ice water?"
Waiter: "You want ice water? No tea?"
DH: "Bring me hot tea. Bring me ice water. Bring me sweetener. Bring me empty glass. I'll show you Sweet Iced Tea."
The waiter returned with the hot tea, ice water, sweetener and empty glass and was amazed with the culinary lesson DH gave him.
While in LA, we survived our sweet tea withdrawals and developed a mean bottled water habit. But when we moved back to Alabama the Beautiful and crossed the Tennessee River. I could almost taste the sweet tea at my mom's house.
For those of you lacking proper knowledge of sweet tea...

Proper Southern Sweet Iced Tea is made only one way...
It's brewed on the stove, sweetened with lots of sugar and topped off with cold water and ice. It does not have fruit in it or juice in it. It can have lemons or lemon juice. But purists, like myself, would never use lemon. Tea, sugar, water. That's all.
With the necessary reduction of caffeine that comes with TTC (see post from 03-20-2006), I switched to decaffeinated tea bags. But still there's only tea, sugar and water in my tea.
Does that answer your sweet tea questions? Did you have any questions?

I suppose I should work now, that would be smart! ;-)

Monday, March 20, 2006

Intro and whining...

It's Monday. I'm at work. I'm NOT working. I want to be at home napping. Nope, not today!

As means of introducing myself to WHOEVER IS BORED ENOUGH TO SEEK OUT MY BLOG AND ACTUALLY READ IT... I willbriefly (maybe not) describe myself and my current life and its manic schedule.

I'm 35, and married for 13 years with a 5 year-old daughter. DH is 36. I work for my dad as his business manager, director of government sales and office supervisor. Dad's companies are #1 agricultural parts sales and #2 waste oil furnace sales and service and #3 R&D of alternative fuel furnaces.

I also work on a purely philanthropic basis for my husband. (Yes, I know. I'm nuts.) DH's company sells windows, doors and millwork. I handle their network admin, new pc set-up, corporate identity production (logos, cards, etc.), bookeeping assistance.

The computer stuff is brain candy. I'm self-taught on most of what I do..... just about everything, really. I'm rusty on some things and use some "mickey mouse" software to do some stuff. But I can usually find a work-around with what I have. I'm learning Macromedia's FreeHand. It's causing some gray hairs!

DH and I started in February trying to have baby #2. At fertility sites, that is called TTC (trying to conceive!). I've learned more about my cycles and fertility and hormones and fluids and basal body temperature and timing and counting and charting and a score other things that somehow relate to TTC than I EVER thought I would know. I really feel smart and dumb at the same time now!

A dear friend of mine (hey, Rach!) is also TTC. She's cold up in Minnesota and I'm warming up in Alabama, so we support each other via email, messenger and phone calls. She's the best. (you know it, sista!) We met and became friends while at Auburn (War Eagle!). Studied and researched together through our senior level classes. ( :-p Villaume!) Now THAT was a few years ago!!!

I hate and love this time of year. Spring is fun. We start getting outside again. Flowers blooming. Wild onions growing. Bunnies hopping. Taxes looming. We've never been the type to rush and get our taxes done the day our W-2s come in. I hate facing the previous year's procrastinations. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it!

DD has her first T-ball practice tonight, if the rain will stop. Watching a bunch of 5 and 6 year-olds make their beginning attempts at baseball will be fun. I dread the inevitable injuries. I remember the black eyes I got as a catcher! (Not to mention the ones I got as a little sister! Yeah, Randy, I mean YOU!)

What's the deal w/ removing my extra spaces between sentences?

I hope you've noticed the picture I've put up. This is me and DD at Disney World earlier this month. We were waiting to eat breakfast with Mickey, Donald, Goofy and Pluto at the Animal Kingdom's Restaurantosaurus. The character meals are great. They make a part of the day that is necessary (eating) and possibly boring to kids much more fun and enjoyable. The Crystal Palace (in the Magic Kingdom) has character meals for all 3 meals. We had dinner there with Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore and Tigger. Every 30 minutes or so, the kids get to have their own parade for Pooh and march around the restaurant. It was during one of those parades that I had my first experience with DD being too cool to wave at me. She gave me the hand and quickly looked away. That will be a video moment to treasure for years to come.

'Noccio kisses from my little AU gal!