Long ago, when I had just begun to date The Mighty Hunter, we went out with another couple. The guy was a friend of The Mighty Hunter's from high school. The gal and I became close friends. When The Mighty Hunter and I married, they were both in our wedding. A couple of years later, they married and we reciprocated the ugly wedding clothes favor. (At least I did, The Mighty Hunter was working in NY and unable to make it back home for their wedding. We were broke as sticks and couldn't afford for him to fly home for anything.)
Married life is what it is. For The Mighty Hunter and I, it hasn't always been all sunshine and unicorns and white cotton candy clouds. But it has been pretty good. More good than bad, that's for sure. But for our friends, whose names are generic enough that I might use them here, Chris and Mary, it wasn't so great. It actually wasn't so great before they married. The Mighty Hunter and I actually discussed how we would handle our friendships with them when, not if, they broke up.
Mary and I were close back then. During their marriage, she fought Hodgkins lymphoma successfully. Chris was a devoted care-giver, as he should have been.
Their jobs moved them around for a few years, but they were finally able to get jobs back home (same town as The Mighty Hunter and me.) Not long after moving back home, which they both wanted, their marriage began to fail.
Mary and I talked about it. They separated. I was honest with her when she asked my advice. I told her to fight for her marriage and make it work. I called her to make plans to get together and her phone number was changed and no longer listed.
This hurt. She never called me to give me her new number. I've always felt like this was because she didn't want to admit to me that she was being unfaithful to Chris. Especially after blabbing my big ol' opinion at her.
They divorced. She married the man she had been seeing. Chris met someone and they married. Chris now has a daughter that is a good friend of Stinkerbell's. His current wife and I are good friends. I forgive her daily for being younger, thinner, prettier and more talented than I am. She needs me to fix her phone and computer. It works.
This happened about 8 years ago. So, the wounds are not fresh. I'm not angry at her for what happened between us. She had a hornet's nest of problems to deal with and didn't feel like she could come to me anymore. She chose a different path. One I didn't approve of and she knew it. So, our friendship was gone. Que sera sera.
Now you've gotta know that I live in Small Town, Alabama. And if you ever need to reconnect with an old acquaintance or family, then Wal-Mart is The Place To Be. A few months after Stinkerbell's birth, I happened upon Mary in the WM parking lot. She was going to have a baby the next January. It was almost like nothing had ever happened to pull us apart.
Fastforward to today.
Opening Ceremonies for Teeball*. Chris's daughter and Stinkerbell are on the same team. Mary is coach of a different team (her son's.) It's crowded and prevents an encounter. I know there won't be any excitement or Jerry Springer Behavior, but I sense the anxiety of Chris's current wife.
I ask The Mighty Hunter if he's aware that Mary is "over there."
"yup."
"should we say 'hi."
He's not going to. His friendship ties were with Chris. "you don't need to go look for her and give her a hug."
Now, not having ever been in this particular situation before, I wasn't sure how to handle it. I trust The Mighty Hunter's understanding of Chris's opinion and probable reaction to my speaking to his ex-wife. I also don't think that it would hurt his current wife, but I will protect that relationship over an estranged friendship with Mary.
The thing is, our kids' teams will play each other. Mary will be on the field with her team while The Mighty Hunter and Chris are helping to coach our girls' team. She will see me and Lucky and Stinkerbell. I will not ignore her.
Do I make an effort to talk to her away from Chris and his wife?
Do I just wave at her and smile while sitting right next to Chris's wife in our Mommy Chairs?
Do I talk to Chris's wife and offer to introduce them?
The inevitability of their meeting and having to deal with each other is high. Mary teaches math and coaches at the middle school our children will attend.
Please share with me your wisdom and opinions. I would also love to read your stories, good, bad and especially FUNNY, about these types of encounters.
So, now's your chance to enlighten and educate me about this etiquette. Oh, and hurry up. Our very next game is Tuesday, May 1 and it's against Mary's team. ::smirk::
*Opening Ceremonies? yes. Opening ceremonies. Not much of anything, really. Just an opportunity for the mayor to appear and welcome everyone to our town's recreational fields. There is a very special theme this year, though, for the teams. About a month ago, a young girl who has played in the Rec Dept leagues suffered an aneurism and died. She was 9. In her memory, all the girls playing today wore pink socks with their uniforms. Also, a white balloon was released for each death at Va Tech and a pink balloon for this special girl. Her picture is posted at the center of the fields on the bulletin board. It was very touching. She was a very special kid and her death was sudden and tragic. Our coach - a big, tall, probation officer - wore pink socks too.
Yay! Jesus!
We've tried to be honest with Stinkerbell and explain life and illnesses and death to her in terms that she was capable of understanding. She has, for years, understood that "everything dies." She has also understood that people have the opportunity to have eternal life through Jesus Christ.
So, tonight, the Relay for Life brought into focus for her the "everything dies" reality. Always a tender-hearted and precocious child, she talked with me about the illnesses and deaths due to cancer.
Fast-forward to bedtime prayers.
"Dear Jesus, I love you and thank you for loving me. Watch over us and keep us safe. And I'd like for you to save me so that I can see my mommy in heaven again someday."
Now, we've talked about her salvation before, and she has expressed the interest in it but wasn't quite ready to make the move and say the prayer.
I fetched her daddy and baby brother to her room where she knelt beside her bed with its butterfly quilt and purple sheets and asked Jesus to come into her heart.
Yes, Mommy cried. She's still crying. Like Stinkerbell says, "it's just happiness leaking out my eyes."
Yay! Jesus!
Kay Carroll
Rother Carroll
Candee Parrish
Vernon Carroll
Jenny Kirby
JB Stinson
EL Bowen
Minerva Casey
Marvin Chandler
Nellie Stover
Tanya Rudder
Peggy Monroe
Roger McDowell
Cancer has touched each and every one of us in some way. When we lost The Mighty Hunter's mother in 2000, our lives really CHANGED. She was a very charismatic person; full of humor, love, life and smart as a whip. She fought her cancer with the determination and discipline of a professional, world class athlete. Given 6 months to live, she proved to her doctors that diet and nutrition can make a significant difference in quality and quantity of life and lived 2 years. During those months, she lived a life full of joy and grace and dignity. Having given her heart to her Lord as a child, she made sure to share this relationship with others at every given opportunity. She sang like a lark of her love for Jesus. She devoted her time to helping her family and providing for them in every way. She lived.
When I was five, an older cousin lost her leg and then her life to bone cancer. A beautiful, blonde-haired little girl of 10, she loved gymnastics and ganging up on me with my brother. But she never lost a strand of those golden locks to the radiation or chemotherapy. Or her perfect smile.
I will light candles in their memory. I will walk and talk about them, remembering their lives. Because it's their lives that matter. Not the cancer that snuffed out their lights. Their lives.
And I will walk in honor of The Mighty Hunter's dad and my mom's best friend. I will celebrate their victories over cancer. I will laugh with them and look forward to their futures. Because it's their futures that matter. Not the cancer that threatens them. Their futures.
Together we will listen as the names are read. We'll cry. We'll remember. We'll celebrate. We'll raise money to fight cancer.
This happened today. 15 miles from my home.
My pastor is on our sheriff's SWAT team and worked the raid.
All is well. Bad guys are wearing stripes now.
Jennifer, the newest member of the support group for those who should have restraining orders against me, tagged me with this meme.
How sad is my life that I got all excited when I saw her linking to MY LIL OL BLOG!!! I REEEEEEEALLLLLLLLY NEED TO GET A LIFE!
Anyway, I've linked to a few new blogs and hope you'll visit them as well as the rest of the blogs that have already been linked.
Click. Read.
***Start Copying Here***
*NEW ADDITIONAL RULE: You must spider the previous tagger and DEEP LINK a URL so everyone gets a better link! *
1) Write a short introduction paragraph about how you found the list and include a link to the blog that referred you to the list.
2) COPY the ENTIRE List below and add it to your blog. To avoid duplicate content and increase the amount of keywords your site can accessible for, go ahead and change the titles of the blog. Just don’t change the links of the blog.
3) Take “My Adds” and move them into the “My Originals” list.
4) Add 3 Brand New Bloggers that you know of
My Adds:
Girl on a Mission
Will Blog for Shoes
Our 7QTPies
Especially Heather - read for inspiration and encouragement
I have so many blogs I enjoy reading. I have picked three that I hope will join in!
Here are the originals:
Absolutely Bananas
Auburn Gal Always
While You Were Sleeping
Momology
Christy's Coffee Break
Playgroups are No Place For Children
Simple Kind of Life
A Madison Mom
MsDanielle
I'm not just a mom... I'm a Home Mom
WahMedia Blog Network
A Celebration of Curves
RealtyBizCoach
Live the Power
Home With Heather
girliegeek reviews
tinybellows
80’s films
blog me
blog sire
E G
spinayarn
silken
ussjbird
Singlish Bible Verses
sien stories
ValkrieANGEL
Fellow iPod lover Diana Tan
Forever Tulip
Recommended Read
Doris
Paris Beaverbanks
Albie
Menj
Samantha Yeap
Chan Eileen
Chan Lilian
Liew CF
Andrew Wee
Hong Kiat
Gary Lee
Ed Lau
John Chow dot Com
Nate Whitehill
Stephen Fung
Michael Kwan
Jeff Kee
Stuart Hannig
Hannes Johnson
Nomar AhSoon
Nathan Drach
Saman Sadeghi Jon Waraas
David Lithman
Matt Blancarte
Ryan Parker
Josh Buckley
Matt Coddington
Brice Wong
Leo Chiang
Tyler Ingram
Ah Boon
***Stop Copying Here***
What is your dream job (besides Motherhood)?
1. I would like to donate my days to medical research. I feel as if I could really make major contributions into the fascinating and important research into the sleep patterns of American women in their mid-30s from NE Alabama. Mostly because I just need sleep.
2. Blogger. Because the ability to use links in my personal communications and journaling is in need of more practice.
3. Photographer. I love to photograph my kids. But I don't think I want to take pictures of anyone else.
4. Pajama tester. (see #1 above)
5. Kindergartener. Wouldn't it be just ultra-cool to wear fun, colorful clothes? Have silly, out-of-control hair? Have the energy to run and jump and crawl and gallop and climb trees and sing and dance from the minute I get out of bed until the minute I am forced, kicking and whining, to go to bed? See the world as BRAND! NEW! AND! EXCITING! AND COLORFUL! AND FUN! AND! INTERESTING! AND! COOL!? Be small enough to still be carried around by my parents when my legs are sooooo tired? Be able to say "pweeeeeeeeze" and get most anything in the world? Be able to climb into my mom and dad's laps for a snuggle?
6. Pillow tester. (see #1 above)
7. List maker. Well, because I'm good at lists.
8. Bedsheet softness tester. (see #1 above)
9. CHBM Carnival thinker-upper.
10. Professional shopper. Why let these mad, God-given skillz go to waste?
11. Alarm clock snooze tester. (see #1 above)
12. Food critic. 3 words: mad, God-given skillz.
Alec Baldwin, Isaiah Washington and Don Imus.
Isaiah was wrong when he said what he said about his co-worker. It only made Isaiah seem like the bottom-feeding bigot.
Imus was just a danged fool for saying what he did about those dedicated, talented college athletes.
Should Imus have been fired for his remark? Not my call. I protest these things with retail votes - choosing to NOT buy from advertisers of shows like his.
Should Isaiah have had to go into a RESIDENTIAL REHAB "facility" for making a homophobic slur? Again, not my call. But if someone called me a redneck, I would be the joke and not them. And it would be quite OK to insult me in that way. (Being a redneck comes from living where I do and speaking with my particular drawl. see the comparison I'm NOT spelling out?) Isaiah almost lost his job over his poor judgment.
Alec Baldwin ranted at his DAUGHTER for missing his call. Are we going to let him get away with this? Is his job in jeopardy? Should he be allowed to parent without serious help in controlling his impulses and an increased understanding of the term ABUSE?
Vote with our dollars.
Stop watching 30Rock.
Stop watching all the dang Discovery Channel shows he narrates.
Stop buying the products that advertise with his voice-overs.
Pay attention.
A child deserves at LEAST equal support from us that the Rutgers women's basketball team and TR Knight got.
This is a child.
He is her father.
Shame on you, Alec.
Shame on us if he gets away with it.
Cleaning House and Other Miscellaneous Crap
Yesterday, I went over to my old, temporary blog at wordpress and copied the handful of posts from there and put them over here at blogger.
Here are the links.
Great Pumpkin
BANG BANG
The Mighty Hunter
#2
duh
eBay
Friday Night Lights and a Flock of Ducks (my favorite post title)
***********
Friday evening Stinkerbell had a fever. 103.3. Nothing else wrong with her except a little bit of a headache. Ibuprofen helped with the temp and the headache. She was all apanicky about not getting to go to her friend Lauren's birthday party the next day at Club Libby Lu - which you must observe sometime. Saturday morning, she was without fever and no other symptoms, so I let her go.
Yeah, you totally get me. I don't give a rip about the other kids catching what was clearly SARS. I want my daughter to get her nails painted, her makeup done and a cheap Hannah Montana wig! Priorities, people!
And she was totally Hannah Montana. Don't even TRY to shortcut the name. It's not Hannah. It's HannahMontana, said as fast as a 6 y-o from Alabama can say it.
Dear Anonymous Commenter,
Thank you for stopping by. It's nice to know that people are reading my little stories about my little life. It's also nice when someone leaves a comment.
I know that when I was pregnant with Stinkerbell, The Mighty Hunter was in limbo between identities. He had been just my husband for 8 years when she was born. But the transformation from husband to dad happened in all of 30 seconds (or less). Suddenly his spine turned to Jell-O and there was no going back for him.
I had been "mommy" since I first felt her kick. Possibly before. But his entrance into fatherhood was delayed until she was born. And then, The Mighty Hunter reached out and touched her slimy, bloody little hands and body and wept. This same man who had to leave the birth classes to vomit because of the accuracy of the medical diagrams and drawings. DRAWINGS.
But back to you, Anonymous Commenter. I appreciate your comments on my writing style. And I congratulate you on meeting your millionaire wife via that site. That's cool.
I wish you both all the best in your marriage and lots of good snuggling with your baby.
Don't be a stranger. Come back again soon.
War Eagle,
Auburn Gal Always
First, let me say that I typed "blobber" instead of blogger. ha!
On to the real post...
Go here. Look at that number. That's a lot of money, folks. 5! digits!
This internet neighborhood and family of ours ROCKS!!!
Wow. That's all I can think of to say... WOW!!!!
If you've missed the story before now, just follow the links on that page.
Bodily Fluids.
(I'll try to not be too gross. But the very topic is gross. So, The Queasy should just move on and read something NOT Gross from my Archives.)
Bodily fluids generally have a color. Blood is red. Poop is usually a nasty brownish thing (unless my grandmother is taking Stinkerbell to the bathroom after she has eaten some blue candy and drank lemonade. Then it will be a terrifyingly lime green that causes my VERY BACKWARDS OLD FASHIONED doesn't-say-pregnant-but-whispers-"pg" 80+ y-o grandmother pray for her very bowels.) Snot SHOULD be clear, but if you've got my allergies and sinus problems, its not (geddit? its not - itsnot - it snot! I kill me!) Pee is yellow.
For some reason, it surprises me that bre@stmilk is white. Or at least that MY bre@stmilk is white. This is probably connected, psychologically speaking, to the amazement that I can sustain a baby simply by feeding myself and letting him latch on and snack away. I guess I expected my bre@stmilk to be clear.
Or chocolatey brown and sweet, like my chocolate chip cookies.
Or like tea, good Southern SWEET Tea.
Or purple like the grape kool-aid we had last week.
Or yellow like the Country Time lemonade we drink all the time.
Or bubbly clear like my strange and new addiction to Sprite.
Or light yellow like the butter and Velveeta that I add to everything.
Or red like the tomato sauce and Rotel that I use in everything I cook.
I mean, if Lucky is getting the nutrients of the foods I eat... (Yes, I DO eat a nutritional diet. Velveeta has calcium. Chocolate chip cookies have eggs. Rotel has tomatoes and chiles and other Rotelly things.) ...and has the smelly man-farts to prove it, why shouldn't the milk he drinks LOOK like those foods?
G!rls G0ne W!ld
This week is Spring Break for Stinkerbell. She is beginning to express the feelings of the first-born child who now has to share her parents' attention with a baby brother. We are very thankful that she has not acted out in inappropriate, aggressive, bratty ways. yet. We've tried very hard to give her some special attention each day. We've not been 100% successful, but we've tried.
She has begged for a puppy for months (years?). We finally relented and got her the cutest, dumbest black lab puppy, Jake, a week ago. I suppose the Easter Bunny could be given a little credit. Today, she commented on how Sport (our old, stinky farm dog) seems very sad and is not getting any attention now that Jake is here.
"I wish we hadn't gotten the puppy."
Being a graduate of the Dr. Phil school of psychology, I caught on. I knew that she was just transferring her feelings of being overlooked to the dogs. When I asked her about this, she admitted as much.
So, this week, I have promised to spend as much time as possible doing things that SHE wants to do. We plan on going to the park! Dressing up and having a Tea Party! Making lots of cookies! Eating all those cookies! We might go to the zoo in Birmingham tomorrow. Saturday, she has a birthday party at Club Libby Lu. If Lucky will go to sleep, we'll take the monitor outside and fly! a! kite!
So, forgive me if I don't post regularly this week. I'm trying to win the Mom of the Year, and she is the only judge.
*****************
A note to Jennifer at Playgroups and BooMama... I voted for you at Blogger Awards! Cuz you keep me smiling!
***************
We slept till 9:30 this morning. I slept till 10:45 yesterday morning!
Because of you...
I'm writing this as my entry into the Christian Women Online Blog Challenge to describe how blogging has been a blessing to me. I don't think I'll win the prize, but I'd love to. I would so LOVE a custom blog design. Nevertheless...
Blogging is a form of journaling that I've actually maintained longer than any previous attempt at recording my thoughts and experiences. While I've never kept a prayer journal, I kept a diary for a few weeks after Stinkerbell's birth and, of course, as a kid. I never did much in my wedding book or baby books! I suppose those forms of expression were just not geeky enough for me, I suppose. Blogging allows me to tap into my intense yearning to express myself with words and sit at my computer much longer than I should, all the while making friendships with others in far-flung places and just down the road.
I've become fascinated with how some exceptional writers can paint pictures of their mundane lives with their children and husbands. Pictures that are just plain hilarious and poignant. Pictures that inspire. Pictures that build a bond between bloggers. (how's that for alliteration?)
I can peek through kitchen windows and watch other families go through their lives. Organ transplantation (here too). Adoption. Large families. First-time mothers. Major illness. And humorous gals who give to others.
But for me, blogging provides an interaction with adults (ADULTS! YAY! How's my hair? Let me change out of my pj's into real clothes!) that is precious to me at this point in my life. Staying at home with a newborn son, breastfeeding, etc., contributes to a pretty high level of loneliness and detachment for me. Admittedly, this blogging interaction is not face-to-face, but it works for those of us who suffer from varying degrees of social anxiety. And much like email and instant messaging, I can share what I want to share and hide what I want to hide. I can begin and end my "conversations" when I choose. I can ignore whom and what I want. I can avoid the things that cause me stress and grief. I can enjoy the things that I love. I can ask the questions I need answered. I can express my deepest, darkest thoughts. I can peel the onion of my emotions and sinful life. I can seek reassurance and love from others in similar circumstances. I can find God in it all. I can praise Him too.
Recently, I've reached a cross-roads in my life. A pattern of behavior must end and a new way must begin. This change has not come as a surprise. But it has been avoided and procrastinated. Facing my failures hurts. a lot. Knowing I've disappointed my husband tears my heart out. The guilt is killing me.
A few weeks ago, I was unable to sleep. In an attempt to exhaust my thoughts and distract myself from the stress caused by my guilt and self-loathing, I began browsing blogs. I stumbled across Kelly's blog and this entry. Her willingness to express the changes God made in her and her marriage truly touched me. And for the first time, I wept and asked God to heal my heart and change ME and not change my circumstances to suit me.
God hasn't finished with me yet. I'm way too stubborn for my own good. And, like in the past, God has to get my attention in a big way to get me to put forth the kind of effort He requires.
Through Kelly, I've been encouraged and challenged to be a better person and a more genuine Christian and to put my heart back into my marriage - as God desires of me. Through responses to my posts about this phase of my life and my requests for prayer, I've been shown the love of God for me that brings me to my knees. Now, when I can't love myself, God is loving me through His children that are strangers to me.
I've written this without proofing it thoroughly. I'm gonna leave it as it is now. I'm afraid if I try to make it better, I'll take something away from it. In my attempt to improve my grammar or syntax, I might remove some of my sincerity. I might close my kitchen curtains and shut you out, hiding my life and protecting myself.
But, this mostly anonymous blog allows me to tell secrets that I normally would bury in the deepest, darkest places in my heart.
It feels wrong to say these things about Kelly and the other blogs that have blessed me so much without saying one more thing. Thank you. Ok, two things: God Bless You!
This article is my submission to the blog challenge sponsored by Darlene Schacht,, the founder and editor of CWO Magazine, Uniting Women of Faith.
7 years.
Today is one of the days of the year that has meaning for everyone. Everyone in the US (even those who do not pay federal income tax) know what happens every year on this date. Except this year, today is a Sunday, so tomorrow is the deadline. (I don't know why I felt compelled to explain this. Y'all know. duh!)
But today is a very special day for me and a close friend of mine. It is so special that it helps me forget my hatred for accounting and fear of taxes.
blurby recap:
7 years ago today was a Friday, and it started normally enough.
I had put in a full day of work as the Wholesale Sales Manager for an ornamental concrete manufacturer (birdbaths and pots and fountains and stupid little statues.)
My mother-in-law was quickly losing her battle with chronic lymphocytic leukemia.
The Mighty Hunter had finished a week as the claims adjuster for a major national insurance company (aka crappiest job in the world.)
The little group of people in our church that performed special songs practiced that night.
The Mighty Hunter operated the sound system for us.
We had baby-danced that morning. (Isn't that a sweet way of saying bumping uglies?)
I got pregnant.
Our very close friends who were married 1 week after us were facing a crisis in their marriage as she checked herself into rehab for codeine, etc addiction.
So, today, as I self-medicate with chocolate chip cookies and cold milk, I think of how my very brave friend faced her addiction and the demons that lay with it and beat them. I think of how she suffered physically as she detoxed and emotionally as she worked through her recovery, rebuilt the lost trust in her marriage and family, sought forgiveness for the damage she had wrought , devoted herself to her son and husband and a myriad of other humiliations and growths I can only imagine. I wait until I know she will have a few minutes to herself so that I can call her and tell her "happy birthday." I know that many years I've been the only one to remember this day and congratulate her.
None of you know who she is. And that's just fine. I would never out her here. But in this quasi-anonymous community, I want to express how proud I am of her. She inspires me. There are a couple of you who read my ramblings a little regularly now [blush]. If you are a member of the same club as this friend of mine, you have a share of my admiration for the courage you exhibited in cleaning up and remaining clean. I realize, through this particular friendship, that it is a daily struggle, physically and emotionally. I admire your courage as you deal with those demons.
You rock!
4 Stockings. 1 each for Stinkerbell, The Mighty Hunter, Auburn Gal Always and the baby who would not be born for a full month after Christmas. But she didn't want him to be left out.
A Christmas Tree. I tell you that because I feel I must. Not because you wouldn't know a Christmas Tree. You're much smarter than I.
And the Nativity Scene. There's the bright glow of the Star, the Manger glows too because "the baby Jesus is in there and He glows", a lamb, a donkey, Mary, Joseph, and a chicken. Chickens are not the most popular animal depicted at the birth of our Lord and Savior, but Stinkerbell is convinced there were chickens. And who am I to argue with the logic of a 5 year-old I call Stinkerbell?
Mommy?
But before I can get a shower, I must go chase down the doghouse. Why? Because the wind just blew it off the back porch. Yes, our doghouse is on our back porch. We're that kind of tacky rednecks.
And PROUD OF IT Y'ALL!
note: I apologize for the crappy spacing and layout you see. I have no control over how Blogger spaces between paragraphs and I give up!
Blogger, I hope you're happy. You've won again. [sad face]
I don't want to be me anymore.
I don't know WHO ELSE I would like to be. But it's not me.
I know that everyone has their own hornet's nest of issues. I'm just tired of mine.
I know I'm not alone in this too. At least I think I am.
I don't like the things I do. I don't like making the same kind of mistakes repeatedly. I don't like me at all.
I could go back to bed for the REST of the day. And I totally would if I didn't have commitments and responsibilities. I wish I didn't have those particular responsibilities.
I'd like to eat a whole pack of chocolate chip cookies. Right Now. All of them. With a gallon of milk.
Screw being an adult.
Screw healthy eating.
I think I'd like to be Stinkerbell. Or Lucky.
I wish I could just like myself. I wish I could be a better Me.
Me sucks.
I guess it wouldn't be inappropriate to ask for a few up-lifting prayer and thoughts. Thank you.
Wordless Wednesday - in which there are words, because I can't shut up
Welcome to the Auburn Family Always, Jake!
Here are 2 shots of my masterfully organized accomplishment.
Recipe Rally!
This week, Crazy Hip Blog Mamas is featuring desserts in their Recipe Rally. Great! My favorite food group!
I've made a few different desserts over the years. I've baked a few cakes. I've made brownies. I've made homemade ice cream. But the dessert I go back to over and over again - mostly because of its quick and simple preparation and complete YUMMINESS - the #1 dessert in the Auburn Family Always house is chocolate chip cookies.
Again, I've made chocolate chip cookies from scratch. I've tried the mixes in the store. I've tried many different recipes, looking for the Perfect Gooey Chocolate Chip Cookie. I've found it:
Yes, I use pre-packaged W@l-mart brand cookie dough. It costs about $1.75 per package. I can produce 20 incredibly gooey and yummy cookies in about 35 minutes. I figure that it's cheaper than buying a bag of chocolate chips, flour, eggs, etc. And at least twice as fast.
I'll share one more recipe.
Doodoo Cookies (aka #2 Cookies, No-Bake Oatmeal Cookies)
4 cups water
2 cups sugar
2 very heaping Tbs cocoa powder
Instant oats
4 oz cream cheese (more or less according to taste)
1 heaping Tbs smooth peanut butter (more or less according to taste)
In a large sauce pan, combine water, sugar and cocoa. Increase heat until this reaches a good rolling boil. Allow to boil until bubbles become large and mixture is thicker and it reaches the “hard ball” stage.* When hard ball stage is reached, remove from heat. Quickly stir in cream cheese and peanut butter, a perfect mixture is not necessary here. Add oats to mixture until your preferred consistency is reached. Less oats yields a more candy-like cookie. More oats yields a more chewy cookie. With a tablespoon or small serving spoon, drop cookies onto wax paper or parchment paper. Allow to cool. Lick the pan and spoon clean to conserve water and soap during clean-up.
Now THAT'S True Love
Stinkerbell gets carsick sometimes. Especially when I drive waaaay too fast down our very curvy, winding road in a mad rush to make it to the Easter egg hunt before too late. So, I'm responsible for yesterday's puke. Partly responsible. I blame some of her nausea on my own mother's genius idea of feeding Stinkerbell unlimited corn and bubble gum.
yuk.
Stinkerbell has done this enough times to know to hold her hair back and to get in the proper stance to prevent it from getting on her clothes or shoes.
Now that I think about it, she has never vomited in our own yard. Sure, our toilets, our floors, our puke bowls, our hands. But this was the first yard vomit.
She rinses her little mouth out with the bottle of water I keep in the Pimped Out Mamamobile for just this reason. We wipe her little face. She's all better.
To make sure his little girl is ok, Sport, the Stinkingest Dog in the County, comes to her side, "You not gonna eat this? OOOOOH thankyou thankyou thankyou."
Yes, our stupid farm dog ate the puke.
I figured if I hadn't completely offended you yesterday with my Plan B for removing the Easter Bunny from our house, that I should go gross on you.
And just in case I did offend you yesterday with the Easter Bunny Plan B, then get your p@nties out of a knot. It was a joke.
Sometimes it's worth the sitting fee
or
Cause that's just the kind of caring Mom I am.
Today was a crazy day. It actually was just a big left-over mess from yesterday. Which I blame The Mighty Hunter for, 'cause HE STARTED IT.
I'll not go into details in this post about what he started. I'll leave it for sometime next week probably. But, it's nothing fun or interesting. Crap. Now I have to find a way to make it fun and interesting. Crap.
Today was the Easter egg hunt at our church. Stinkerbell had spent the night with my parents, so I had to drive the 20 miles to get her in a record time to not be late, because I can't seem to remember that I have a baby to get ready and that I can't just step into my shoes and grab my purse and GO!
We were late anyway, but that was ok. I had called and they promised to wait on us. Isn't that great? I love my church.
So, she hunts eggs. In her wool coat, gloves and ear muff-thingys. Because, today, April 7, 2007, in Northeast Alabama, it was 47 degrees Fahrenheit at 2:00pm. And last night? It snowed.
We would have missed the snow. Completely missed it. Except that The Mighty Hunter had to pee. In the yard. He has this favorite place where he has peed for years. Stinkerbell frequently asks him why he pees in the yard all the time.
"Because I can, and when I do, my socks don't get wet."
After the egg hunt, we had dinner with some friends. Lucky has become quite the flirt. He has begun to coo and gurgle and squeal on command. We call it his "talk button." It was fun.
On the way home, we enjoyed hearing Stinkerbell talk about the Easter Bunny and how she hopes he remembers her. How she hopes he might leave her a picture of himself and a letter too. And toys. And how does he get in the house? And what if he forgets her? And we need to really hurry and get her home so she can go to bed.
So we get her home. She runs upstairs to her room. Then darts into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Then begs me, almost crying, but definitely trembling, to help her get her sweater off her head.
"Mommy, I weally wish I could see Pluto again. I weally miss him. But I'm glad he's the Easter Bunny now."
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Four years ago, I decided I wanted to have Stinkerbell's picture made for Easter with a bunny. Now, photography studios ini my area do this all the time. Dress your kid up, and they'll provide the bunny. Sometimes they even have a lamb.
But I'm cheap and deluded into the belief that I can take professional quality pictures in the comfort of my own home.
I decide that I could take the picture of my beautiful daughter in her beautiful Easter dress with a bunny my-dang-self. So, I take Stinkerbell with me to a swap meet/flea market kind of thing. This particular one is a LONG-standing local tradition called "Trade Day." It's held every Saturday, rain or shine. You can buy just about everything there. If it's legal to sell without a special license, there it'll be.
The animals are usually way up on the hill, and I'm guiding a 2 year-old through the labyrinth of vendors.
"No. Don't touch that. Put that down. Say 'excuse me.' Don't put that IN YOUR MOUTH. Don't step in that. Here wipe your shoe off on this rock. Ewwww! That stinks. I think I'm gonna puke."
Finally, we stop at the first man with bunnies. He picks up a very cute little brown bunny. This is the calmest, most tame rabbit I've ever seen. I have no memory of the bartered price, but this bunny was ours.
After a stop at the store for a water bottle and food, we took Pluto home (then pronounced poodoh. Everything was named Poodoh for about a year.) Pluto was still the calmest bunny. Even being investigated by our big, stinky dog didn't frighten him.
Stinkerbell wanted to share the bunny with her Nanny. We loaded him up to go to my parent's, where my mom was convinced we'd get mites or some other vermin from the critter.
So, Pluto stayed in her cool garage with a fresh bottle of water and some food, while Stinkerbell, Nanny and I ate lunch. Not long after lunch, I learned why Pluto was the calmest bunny ever. At Stinkerbell's request, I went to the garage to check on him.
thinking: "Well, he's fallen asleep. I guess I should pick up the food that spilled. He's not moving. He's stiff. Holy crap! The Easter Bunny is dead! Oh, gosh! What if she comes out here and finds the dead rabbit? I've got to do something with him. I've got to come up with a story! I've got to find another dang rabbit!" (confession: I might not have thought "crap," "gosh" or "dang".)
So, Pluto #1 went into Nanny's garbage can. The cage door was left open. I saw something across the road in the field that might have been - COULD have been - a rabbit. I conconted a story about how he was sooooo smart and escaped the cage and probably ran across the road to that biiiiig field to play with other bunnies. All of which was possible.
Stinkerbell cried. She begged to go find him. We called a friend who raised miniature lop-eared bunnies. He gave us a rabbit. Pluto #2.
Now, Pluto #2 lived with us for a few days. I took the stupid pictures. I didn't like any of them. Stinkerbell, The Mighty Hunter and I all got sick from the stupid rabbit fur. Sinus infections, allergies and asthma ran rampant in our house until I found a conspirator who was willing to remove the Easter Bunny from our posession.
So, the day after Easter, Pluto #2 disappeared. He "left a note," which I read, explaining that the old Easter Bunny had asked him to come live with him and learn how to be the Easter Bunny for next year. 'Cause he was OLD.
And that's how the Easter Bunny go the name "Pluto".
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I've been asked before what I would have done with the rabbit if no one would have adopted him.
Please understand, I love animals. I really do. I love our dog and cat. The Mighty Hunter and I had a pet rabbit while still in college (You can litter box train a rabbit for their pee. They poop whenever and wherever they want.) I grew up riding horses all the time. My grandparents had cattle that was more like pets than farm animals. But I'm from the rural South. We eat meat. I eat meat. I like meat. I believe that God gave us permission to eat meat. We ate those pet cows from my grandparents farm. I'm married to an avid hunter. We eat the meat he kills. He has trained our dog to fetch dove and quail and crap when he shoots it. And we eat that too.
Our stinky dog eats meat.
However, I don't eat rabbit. Unless it's chocolate.
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I found a picture of an Easter Bunny and typed a letter from Pluto #2 and printed them out. They're with her Easter gifts, which The Mighty Hunter picked out all by himself.
Lucky has a cute little basket with a chocolate bunny too. Mommy will make sure he gets the benefits of that chocolate, if not the taste.
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At the Easter egg hunt at church, Stinkerbell said the blessing before snack time.
"Dear God, thank you for letting us get to hunt eggs and have a good time. Help us to remember what Christmas is really about. We love you. Amen."
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She's right. Without Easter, Christmas wouldn't be anything special.
Without the crucifixion, the Birth would be forgotten.
Remember what we're celebrating.
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See you again next week!
