Total Momsense

Ode to Adipose

2012-01-12T19:29:00.003-06:00

Well, I've purposely avoided all the New Year's resolution hoopla by, you know, just not blogging at all.

Personally, I'm not a fan of resolutions because I tend to get carried away, and before you know it I've come up with so many resolutions that if I actually followed through on a third of them I would be completely unrecognizable to myself and all who know, er, knew me.

And then I usually end up making some sort of chocolate cake and further validating my belief that New Year's resolutions are not part of my personal mission statement.

And speaking of chocolate cake...

I just finished a book titled Why Women Need Fat by Dr. William D. Lassek and Dr. Stephen J.C. Gaulin. I have to tell you, this is the kind of book I can get behind. It has a very clear and encouraging title, and it has a picture of a very appetizing chocolate dessert.

And then? It tells us that by eating said chocolate and other various fats, we can look like Jessica Alba.

Well, sort of.

The basic premise is this- that when the food industry started using cheap hydrogenated oils we started getting fatter. Then they give pages and pages of fascinating studies on everything from why the Europeans and Japanese are smaller and healthier than us to why men find Playboy models attractive (and incidentally, it's not for the two reasons you think. Ahem.) to how important waist size is to our health.

And then- they tell us to use heavy cream, and butter, and eggs, and all the things that the mean old diet books of yore have told us to avoid.

And you know what? It makes total sense.

And you know what else? I've followed the guidelines for two weeks and I have lost five pounds. Eating cream cheese, and Gouda, and cream, and cheese, and red meat, and cream cheese. Did I say cream cheese? I'm absolutely serious.

So, you should click on over to BlogHer and check out more reviews on the book, and then maybe you ought to run out and get the book. I've never been happier losing weight.

Ask Coach. He's a believer. A stunned believer, but a believer all the same.

See Y'all!

This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club but the opinions expressed are my own.

One

2011-12-24T00:27:00.000-06:00

He was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman.

He grew up in another obscure village, where He worked in a carpenter's shop until He was thirty. Then, for three years He was an itinerant preacher.

He never had a family or owned a home.

He never set foot inside a big city.

He never traveled more than two hundred miles from the place He was born.

He never wrote a book or held an office. He did none of the things that usually accompany greatness.

While he was still a young man, the tide of popular opinion turned against Him. His friends deserted Him. He was turned over to His enemies, and went through the mockery of a trial.

He was nailed to a cross between two thieves. While He was dying, His executioners gambled for the only piece of property He had-- His coat.

When He was dead, He was taken down and laid in a borrowed grave.

Two thousand years have come and gone, and today He is the central figure for much of the human race.

All the armies that have ever marched and all the navies that have ever sailed and all parliaments that ever sat and all the kings that have ever reigned, put together, have not affected the life of man upon this earth as powerfully as this

One. Solitary. Life.

Merry Christmas!

**Reprinted from a Christmas program. Author unknown, but it's not me.

See Y'all!

Sunday Supper: Revival Edition

2011-12-10T22:23:00.001-06:00

I just broke a fingernail into the quick and tripped over the computer cord which would normally render me useless for the rest of the evening, but I've decided to persevere.

I am one day of grading exams away from total liberation and full-on holiday jubilation!

So, tomorrow I'll layer on the polar fleece, sit myself next to the Christmas tree with a box full of exams and threaten to shoot anyone who talks to me with the Red Rider BB Gun.

Oh yes, we absolutely have one, and don't think I won't use it. Just ask the dang rabbits that ate my tomatoes this summer. And the moles. And the owls. And the foxes. And the coyotes. And the possum. And the annoying little black dog that runs through here every morning.

I have lovingly named the summer of 2011 The Summer of the Wild.

Aaaaaah summer. When my yard looked like this...

And we ate things that were growing on a vine mere minutes before they were in our mouths. I'm already dreaming of Summer 2012; I'm also planning a garden expansion; Coach will be thrilled.

Speaking of summer, late in the summer Coach and I went to see his college roommate, B. Mac, at the Tomato Fest in Nashville. He was cooking Jambalaya, and his parents were here from New Orleans. The first time I met his momma I fell in love with her, and honestly, that is why I wanted to go; I'm not big on trying new foods. So we went.

Coach offered me a bite of the jambalaya. I didn't want to be rude, so I partook.

Y'all. Y'ALL. It changed my life.

I told him we needed to do a video cooking segment for the blog, but he has three kids, a wife, a job, a dog, and an impressive addiction to LSU athletics. So, obviously he's having a big year, and I've been swamped with Momsense here which has prevented any Creole cinematography.

So, instead, we went to their house the very next day, kept all three kids from napping and forced B. Mac to write the recipe down while he tried to eat his lunch. I'm not even kidding.

Now, I need to tell you a few things. Apparently B. Mac and his momma make two different types of Jambalaya. B. Mac makes the hoity-toity Creole kind with tomatoes and butter, which from what I understand, is very controversial to the Cajuns, who make a more countrified type of cuisine.

And Cajun is how Mrs. Bonnie makes her Jambalaya. (I have her recipe too. I need to ask her if it's okay to make it public- if it is, I'll post it.) Rumor has it that sausage is also a controversial ingredient- and some use seafood.

I don't care if they put dirt in it, this stuff is a game changer. Anyway, I made a slight tweak in B. Mac's recipe, and I feel like I need to confess that now in case his head blows off when he reads this. (I'm not a Louisiana native and certainly not well-schooled in NOLA cuisine.) His recipe calls for 1 pound of "ham seasoning" cut up, but I used bacon.

You can never go wrong with bacon. I don't think.

My personal belief is that any dish that combines two different types of smoked pork product is blessed by the Lord Himself, but just in case I broke some Cajun cooking law, I wanted to take responsibility so that B. Mac's street cred isn't questioned because of my naivete.

Another disclaimer- This recipe will make enough Jambalaya to feed the LSU football team. Seriously, our family of five eats it for dinner and we put away two LARGE Rubbermaid containers full. You could easily cut it in two and still feed 6-8 people easily. I make the full batch because we have a 15-year-old and Coach.

B Mac's Jambalaya
6 boneless, skinless chicken thighs cut into 1" pieces
2 pounds andouille sausage, sliced into 1/2" pieces
1 pound bacon diced (this is a deviation from B Mac. He says use "ham seasoning")
1 large onion, diced
6 ribs celery, diced
1 red bell pepper, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
4 tablespoons butter
28 ounce can crushed tomatoes
6 cups chicken stock
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or more to taste)
1 teaspoon cumin
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon pepper
2-3 bay leaves
4 cups white rice

In a LARGE stockpot (at least 7 quarts), cook bacon until done. Remove bacon, but leave drippings. Add sausage and brown in batches. Don't crowd the sausage. (I don't know why it matters, but B. Mac and Julia Child agree on this one, so it must be important.) Remove and brown all sausage. Repeat process with chicken.

When all meat is browned and set aside, add the butter to the drippings. Then add the onion, pepper, and celery and cook until translucent. Add the garlic and cook another couple of minutes.

Add the tomatoes, cayenne pepper, cumin, salt and pepper. Bring to a boil. TASTE. Add more seasoning as you see fit. I always see fit with the cayenne.

Add the bay leaves and chicken stock and return to a boil. Pour in UNCOOKED rice and return to boil.

Then add meat back in, stir thoroughly, and lower heat to a simmer. Let simmer 20-25 minutes until liquid is absorbed. Remove the bay leaves.

Now, go make yourself some and eat until your sick!

See Y'all!

Time For a Sea Change

2011-11-17T21:03:00.001-06:00

I love to read. There was a time I would read anything I could get my hands on. My mom would tell you that she spent the better part of my 19th summer worried about me because I chose to read The Autobiography of Henry VIII for fun. It was longer than War and Peace, Crime and Punishment, and my mom would swear it was longer than the Bible. I don't really know, but I've read those three from cover to cover as well.

The last few years I've been devoted to chick lit. It's entertaining and light, but not anything that will give the medulla oblongata any sort of meaningful workout.

Enter Sea Change by Jeremy Page. I read it. It's not chick lit. It's not funny. It's not light. But, it was intriguing and haunting and terrifying at times. Page reminds you constantly that "life has an elegance about it sometimes, of moments playing out you never thought would." It's those moments that he writes about: the string of moments in your life that seem surreal and distant, the moments that make you, the moments that ultimately break you.

Guy has lost his daughter in a freak tragedy which subsequently causes his divorce from his wife Judy. Unable to deal with the loss, Guy lives on a barge in the North Sea where he spends his days passing time and his nights creating the life he lost in a journal. It's a fascinating concept. He just writes the life he imagines he would have had. He is paralyzed by his grief and his past, and you honestly feel like you will drown in a sea of grief with him. Just as the writing becomes unbearable, Page throws you a life preserver- a love interest, a storm, something to bring you back to the light, and then he you are forced to dive into the grief again.

Sea Change is not uplifting, but it's not hopeless. It's not entertaining, but it's mesmerizing. Just as grief is surprising with its many ironies, so is this novel. Page has been able to freeze pivotal moments in the grieving process and drive readers to compassion.

So, if you're looking for light-hearted holiday entertainment, this isn't your book. But, if you're ready for an honest and introspective story about a man who loves and loses his family, this one's for you.

If you want to read more about Jeremy Page and Sea Change, go here. There are discussions, reviews, and summaries for you.

"I was compensated for this BlogHer Book Club review but all opinions expressed are my own."

See Y'all!

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like...

2011-11-13T18:41:00.001-06:00

The mall halls are decked, the movies are playing, and the music has started.

It's officially holiday season.

Yesterday I ordered a fresh turkey from a farm in East Tennessee because Coach wanted to have our very own Thanksgiving here which will include all the kids helping with the cooking, china, silver, manners, and maybe even shoes. It has Griswold written all over it.

Of course, all of this will take place on Thanksgiving Eve because we both have humongous family celebrations on Thanksgiving Day.

Thanksgiving will begin with all 5 of us running the Turkey Trot 5K to help Graceworks before we eat a celebratory Krispy Kreme and race home to dress for the day's festivities.

And you know what? I can totally relax then because the Christmas Card is complete! It will be addressed, stamped, and mailed Wednesday afternoon, so those babies will start arriving first thing Friday morning!

And then....

IT'S ON!!!

In the meantime, here's a preview. I feel very old. VERY OLD. The kids were not amused at our idea, but we didin't let that stop us. Some friends of ours did this last year, and I cried when I opened it, so we hijacked their idea (Thank You Reynolds Family!).

I'm climbing back on the blog horse this week. I have a book review coming, some recipes, and maybe an adventure or two!

Bright Merry Cheer Christmas Card

Shop Shutterfly's collection of Christmas photo cards.

View the entire collection of cards.

See Y'all!

A Little Love

2011-10-07T11:14:00.003-05:00

Y'all. Y'ALL. Life. Has. Spiraled. OUT. OF. CONTROL. School started 9 weeks ago, and we've been on a death march from day 1. I'm hoping it will slow down a bit. But, I haven't been totally devoid of joy.

Coach has been dustbusting with a vengeance this season as he has taken a new job as a defensive coordinator. It's becoming more and more difficult for me to fake any sort of football knowledge. He uses words like Wildcat, and Defensive Line. I tell him that I know First Down, Off-Sides, and Touchdown Tennessee! He tries to hide his disgust as he suggests that I enroll in a Football 101 course, but I don't need a class to enjoy this....

We're enjoying a very fruitful season at our little school. We have a new head coach, and he has injected a little life into the program. It's one of the joys of my week to see my boys enjoy lavish success. And while we're on the subject of football and lavishness...

Mmmm. Mmmmm. Mmmmm. I do love this man's pants. And I'm going to see them this weekend up close and in person. There will be pictures.

I've also been having an affair with Pinterest. You want to follow me? I'd love it. I'm addicted. And I have a burning desire to redecorate my house.

Speaking of love affairs. Have you made Ree's Cajun Chicken Pasta yet? No? Do it now. RIGHT NOW. You won't be sorry. I changed things up a bit and added a couple of handfuls of parmesan cheese to the sauce. My family devoured it like unmannerly wolves.

And my last love for today is this book- Burnt Mountain by Anne Rivers Siddons. I can't tell you how much I'm loving it. Get yourself a copy, grab some tea, and go sit out in the fall weather and enjoy a fiction blessing.

And I also had one of the most pleasurable afternoons of the fall yesterday at the auto repair shop. I'll tell you about it soon. I'm thinking about going back today just for the ambience. You think I'm kidding. I'm absolutely not. In the meantime, you all enjoy the fall temperatures (unless you're not having fall temperatures, and in that case, I am so sorry, because OH MY WORD the weather here is FABULOUS!!!)

See Y'all,

Sunday Supper: Best Darned Edition

2011-08-28T22:31:00.002-05:00

Like I said earlier, I spent the majority of my summer doing exactly what I planned on doing. That NEVER happens. Now, I had also planned on blogging regularly and finishing a novel, and neither of those tasks were completed, but at least I made a stab at it.

You might not know this about me, but follow-through is not exactly my strong suit; I lose interest in things pretty quickly. I have managed to stick with parenting for almost 15 years, which is a record for me and stick-with-it-ness. I guess we can chalk that up to the fact that there's no real way not to follow through on that task without going to jail.

So the parenting gig has been good for me.

The cooking gig has been good for me too. Well, for my taste-buds, not so much for my hind-end. I did a lot of cooking and canning and kitchen-related minutiae over the summer, and I managed to perfect some things.

And so, I'll start sharing.

Best Darned Barbecue Sauce
You'll never buy another bottle of sauce as long as you live. Not. Even. Kidding.

1 Tablespoon Canola Oil
1/4 whole Onion, Diced
2 cloves Garlic, Minced
1 cup Ketchup
1/4 cup Packed Brown Sugar
2 Tablespoons (additional) Brown Sugar
4 Tablespoons Distilled Vinegar (less To Taste)
1 Tablespoon Worcestershire Sauce
1/3 cup Molasses
1 Small Can of Chipotle Adobo Sauce (the adobo sauce chipotle peppers are packed in- just pull the peppers out, but for the love of all that is holy, do NOT lick your fingers. Trust me.)
Dash Of Salt

Heat canola oil in a saucepan over medium-low heat. Add onion and garlic, and cook for five minutes, stirring, being careful not to burn them. Reduce heat to low. Add all remaining ingredients and stir. Simmer for 20 minutes.

Best Darned Cookie: Lemon White Chocolate Chip
If you need a wedding/baby shower cookie, this is your girl. If you just need a good cookie, this is still your girl.

2-½ cups All-purpose Flour
1 teaspoon Baking Soda
½ teaspoons Baking Powder
1 cup Butter-Flavored Crisco
1-½ cup Sugar
1 Egg
1 teaspoon Vanilla Extract
Zest of One Lemon
2 Tablespoons Lemon Juice
3 Tablespoons Heavy Cream (up To 4 Tablespoons)
1 ½ cup White Chocolate Chips
Optional: Raw Sugar or Colored Sprinkles, For Sprinkling

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

In a small bowl, stir together flour, baking soda, and baking powder. Set aside.

In a large bowl, cream together butter and sugar until smooth. Beat in the egg, vanilla, lemon zest and lemon juice. Gradually blend in the dry ingredients. Add enough of the cream to moisten the dough and make it soft, not wet. Mix in chocolate chips. Roll rounded teaspoons of dough into balls and place on a ungreased cookie sheet and slightly flatten the top of each cookie. Sprinkle with raw sugar or colored sprinkles.

Bake for 8 to 10 minutes or until slightly golden. Let stand for 2 minutes before removing to cool on a rack.

Best Darned Cookie #2: Rolo Cookies
I found this one on Tasty Kitchen, and modified it a bit. AC practiced her baking and her fractions by baking these babies. You're welcome.

1 cup Sugar, Plus Extra To Roll Cookies In
1 cup Brown Sugar
1 cup Butter Or Margarine
2 teaspoons Vanilla
2 whole Eggs
2-½ cups Flour
¾ cups Unsweetened Cocoa
1 teaspoon Baking Soda
36 Rolos- unwrapped of course

Beat sugars and butter together until fluffy. Add vanilla and eggs; beat well. Add flour, cocoa, and soda. Mix well. Refrigerate dough for at least 1 hour.

Shape 1 tablespoon of dough around 1 Rolo (unwrapped, of course), covering it completely. Roll each ball in white granulated sugar.

Place the balls 2 inches apart on an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake at 375ºF for 8–10 minutes.

There's more where these came from, and I'll share over the next few weeks. I'm in a jambalaya coma right now. Coach's college roommate, a native of Louisiana, gave me a Creole recipe. I'm a little green on the whole Creole/Cajun thing, but I'm fascinated. Apparently there is a whole controversy over using sausage or not, using butter or not, and using tomatoes or not. And since I do love a good food-related fuss, I do see a cook-off in our future. Anyway, more on the jambalaya later.

In the meantime, go barbecue some chicken legs and eat some cookies. You'll thank me later.

See Y'all!

Thus and Such

2011-08-19T12:58:00.000-05:00

Because sometimes, the list is a God-send.

1. I miss reading any old time I want to. I did just finish a great read though. I might have mentioned it a time or eighty. Rules of Civility by Amor Towles. It made me fall in love with New York all over again, and re-emphasize my desire to live their, briefly, some day. He's a little less committed to my NYC dreams. Anyway, Rules of Civility is a must-read. I reviewed it on BlogHer, so you can check out my full review here.

2. Someone is turning 11 this weekend. Stop for awe and wonder. We've been celebrating since April. She loves a thorough baptism of celebration. She also loves Lay's Potato Chips- plain. She put them on her birthday list. Along with a Nook, Tom's shoes, frozen yogurt gift cards. Her list reminds me of a desperate grocery store purchase over the summer which included an Us Magazine, Stri-Dex, Kraft Caramels, Hebrew National Hot Dogs, nail polish, and some pickled relish. It's like I was stricken with the palsy.

3. In honor of AC's birthday I am making a red velvet cake. FROM A BOX. I NEVER do that. Really, I don't- it's a travesty. It's like making Hamburger Helper and calling it dinner. Hamburger Helper being scarfed down whilst standing in front of the fridge, however, is a totally different story. Anyway, I had to make the hard decision between baking all day Saturday or floating in my float reading the books that are screaming to be opened from my Nook. So, box it is. And honestly, it was really more a stress reliever because the amount of red food coloring that you have to put in a homemade cake just sends me over the edge. And it reminds me of the bleeding armadillo groom's cake scene from Steel Magnolias. So, box it is.

4. We've been in school for 7 days. That means 173 more to go before I am back on the beach on Hilton Head Island, and don't think for one minute that I am not keeping an up to the minute count down.

5. And, speaking of countdowns, we are a mere 3 weeks away from this...

PRAISE GOD! And I'm about to bust a stitch. Marching bands, whistles, majorettes, Smokey, the smell of bourbon and body odor- well, I cannot wait.

6. I love the song "Good Intentions" by Randy Travis. It's exactly the right beat for my running speed. Sad, but true. AC/DC had to go off the old iPod a while ago after a sprained ankle, torn spandex, and a terribly bruised ego. Anyway, I've been INTENDING to get a couple of posts up for a while. This week I've jumped off the road to Hell and committed to it. One on good anti-aging products. And one I'm going to call "Best Darned" as in the best darned food in many categories that you've ever eaten.

Until then...

See y'all!

Little Piggies

2011-08-11T22:23:00.000-05:00

This little piggie went to high school.

This little piggie stayed home.

This little piggie went to middle school.

And this little piggie went for a run.

And this little piggie?

She went "Waaaaah Waaaaaah Waaaaaah" all the way home.

I'm convalescing. I'm mourning. I'm staring at crow's feet and enlarged pores wondering where my toddlers went. I might be over it tomorrow. Hope for the best.

See y'all!

Summer Reading

2011-08-01T15:43:00.000-05:00

I think I have said it before, this summer has been a summer of fun here. There's been a lot of swimming, eating, playing, laughing, cooking, and reading. LOTS of reading. From the time I was old enough to read I have devoured books. I love all sorts of books: biographies, memoirs, fiction, religion/theology, history - pretty much anything.

Anyway, the summer allows me time to read for fun. I don't do a whole lot of heavy reading, because it's hard to really appreciate Camus when you're dodging Nerf balls and diving children playing spirited games of Green River.

So, if you're wanting to pick up a good read or eleven, check the list. I've got more where these came from, but it's a good start.

1. The Help - Kathryn Stockett

I read this one for a second time because the movie is coming out in a mere 9 days. And y'all. Y'ALL. It was so much better the second time around. The characters, the plot, the history, the language. I can't even begin to tell you how much I love it all. It may possibly be the best book I've read in decades. If you've never had the pleasure of reading a book that runs the gamut of emotions, then get yourself to a bookstore and buy this book. You'll laugh, you'll get mad, you'll cry (I even ugly cried once or twice), and when it's over you'll be ready to flip back to page one and start all over again.

2. Love Wins: A Book About Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived - Rob Bell

Whoa baby. This book has sparked all sorts of controversy. A hot mess of controversy. So naturally, I had to read it. I'll say this- it's a fascinating read. It causes you to really think and question your spiritual beliefs. I love that. I don't agree with Bell on many points, but he raises some important questions and he challenges the Christian reader to address beliefs regarding the afterlife.

3. Erasing Hell: What God said about eternity, and the things we made up - Francis Chan

Again, whoa baby. This is Chan's answer to Rob Bell's book. Another thought provoking, but much more biblical discussion about Hell, it's existence, and what we believe about the afterlife. It may not be your cup of tea, but it's absolutely worth the read. Chan is a very accessible theologian, but not condescending or elitist. I like that; I am not a fan of theological or academic snobbery. That's a post for another day though, because I have some feelings there. Mama just needs to brush off her soapbox.

4. Long Drive Home: A Novel - Will Allison

And back to fiction we go. I hate to tell you this, but I've been a little gender-biased in my reading lately. I found I was only reading novels written by women. I like women writers. They get women. So far, I haven't really found a man who gets women. However, I have met many who have given it their best shot. I guess that's the best we can hope for.

Anyway, let's talk about Will Allison and his novel. The story begins with a tragic car accident that involves road rage, a split decision, and the ramifications of some really bad decisions. REALLY BAD. The dilemma I had with this particular book is that the entire time I was reading I kept clucking my tongue and thinking to myself, "You idiot, you're going to wreck your marriage and your family if you don't come clean about this." And then he does. I have to give it to Mr. Allison, he mastered the art of the disintegrating marriage. Creeping separateness is his theme, and homeboy nailed it. NAILED IT.

5. Gone with a Handsomer Man - Michael Lee West

I'll just let the Amazon review do the talking here, except to say- this one is doggone funny. It's also the a perfect book to read in a pool in South Carolina with a big cup of sweet tea and a free afternoon.

Teeny Templeton believes that her life is finally on track. She’s getting married, she’s baking her own wedding cake, and she’s leaving her troubled past behind. And then? She finds her fiancé playing naked badminton with a couple of gorgeous, skanky chicks.
Needless to say, the wedding is off. Adding insult to injury, her fiancé slaps a restraining order on her. When he’s found dead a few days later, all fingers point to Teeny.
Her only hope is through an old boyfriend-turned-lawyer, the guy who broke her heart a decade ago. But dredging up the past brings more than skeletons out of the closet, and Teeny doesn’t know who she can trust. With evidence mounting and the heat turning up, Teeny must also figure out where to live, how to support herself, how to clear her name, and how to protect her heart.

6. The First Husband: A Novel - Laura Dave

Laura Dave is one of my favorite authors. She's funny and she gets people. Have you ever read a book and watched the main character make a decision that you think you would never make in your real life, but you find yourself cheering for despite yourself? Yeah. That's this book. The basics- Annie has a stable relationship that turns out to be not so stable. So he leaves. She meets a new guy- a guy you have to LOVE, and she marries him. Then, you find yourself hoping she leaves perfect guy to return to the snake that left her, and well, you'll have to read the book to see what happens. I was romantically exhausted after this one- this one is fraught with drama.

7. What Happened to Goodbye - Sarah Dessen

I read this one for BlogHer book reviews. I liked it. I loved it. I want some more of it. Dessen gets girls, and she writes about real girls. Technically, it's a young adult novel, but I enjoyed it from beginning to end. You can read my review here, but my biggest praise is this- I can give this one to my 11-year-old daughter who loves herself some romance novels and not worry about language, sexual situations, or other topics that may be a bit advanced for her.

8. Folly Beach: A Lowcountry Tale (Lowcountry Tales) - Dorothea Benton Frank

LOVE Dottie Frank. I want to be her when I grow up. Her love for the South Carolina Low Country is 100% to blame for the one disagreement Coach and I have in our marriage. When our kids fly the coop this girl is heading straight for the Low Country. Coach has other ideas. Folly Beach is different from her other novels, there is some history about the Heywards and the writing of Porgy and Bess. If you are a Dottie Frank fan, this one is a little slower than her others, and you can tell she struggled some with the writing- honestly, I think this is the book she has wanted to write for years, but it just hadn't percolated long enough. It's good, don't get me wrong, but I'd be willing to bet Coach an RV that if we asked Mrs. Frank, she would tell us this one didn't take residence with her. That being said, she still makes me long for the Low Country.

9. Summer Rental - Mary Kay Andrews

Hello summer. Go now and get this book. Mary Kay Andrews ranks right there with Dottie Frank, and they usually publish novels within a month of each other. Andrews focuses more on the Georgia, and in this novel, the Outer Banks. Where Frank stays in the South Carolina Low Country, Andrews isn't afraid to take you travelling all over the South. Nothing wrong with that is there? Again, if you want a good book to float around a pool and devour, this one gets the job done.

10. Then Came You: A Novel - Jennifer Weiner

Again, LOVE Jennifer Weiner. I read Good In Bed years ago, and I have followed her ever since. This novel jumps right in the middle of a hot fertility topic. It goes without saying, women get testy when you start talking about ovaries and babies and such. But oh my word, this one was so good. SO very good. She's not southern, but we can forgive her for that can't we girls? Weiner can tell a story, and she's funny and smart and culturally relevant without being cliche. That's a hard gig to pull off.

11. Twenties Girl: A Novel - Sophie Kinsella

Okay, I have to tell you I started this one and quit a few times. It has a ghost. I'm not a big fan of ghost characters. But then I got desperate. I was floating serenely in the pool with a cool beverage and all the kids were at the beach so it was quiet. I had two choices: get up and hook into the WiFi in the beach house and get a new book, or continue floating and start back with Kinsella's novel. Laziness prevailed and I ended up loving the novel and the ghost character. She's kicky and fun. I want to be like her, except in a mortal sense. This one is a thumbs up!

I have several more, but you need to get reading, and I'm in the middle of one of the prettiest books I've read in a while, Rules of Civility. I am reviewing it for BlogHer this week. I'll get back to you on this one, I think it released on July 26th, so it's available now. I can't say a whole lot about it yet, but OH. MY. WORD. It is so very worth the time. I'll just say this- if Jay Gatsby and pals had lived to see The Depression, this would be his story. Mmmmmm. Mmmmmmm. Mmmmmmmm. Good stuff. Really good stuff.

In the Meantime

2011-07-26T23:07:00.000-05:00

I've blogged exactly 3 times since summer began. I've been busy, and for the first time in a looooooooooooong time, I've been busy doing exactly what I planned on doing. I have planted and cultivated what began as a garden and can now only be described as crops. And because of my fertile crops, I've also mastered pickle making. Tomorrow? I'm making homemade pasta sauce with 30+ pounds of tomatoes. Yes, I said pounds.

I have been to the pool. I have cleaned out closets. I have seen movies. AND- I have read. I have read and read and read. Nothing really earth-shattering; mostly fun books, but oh how I love to read. I've been working on an annotated list; I'll finish it up and post it tomorrow.

But, in the meantime I thought I would update you on the goings on around here.

1. Coach has a new job as defensive coordinator at a really big high school. He has put a serious hurt on the Dustbuster this summer. The floors are begging for mercy.

2. Coach and I were having a discussion the other day about college football coaches. He called Monty Kiffin the Hemingway of football. He went on to call him a composer of defensive orchestras and I do believe he mentioned Les Miserables at some point in the conversation. In summary, I think it's safe to say that Coach does love Monty Kiffin. I don't really know much about him, and from what Coach said the other night, I don't think he knows Hemingway very well, so I figure we break even.

3. G thought it would be funny to eat a raw jalapeno. He chewed and chewed and chewed and then said, "I'm just going to let it sit and ruminate in my mouth." Y'all. Y'ALL. He used ruminate in a sentence. In the summer. It's enough to put Sarah Palin to shame.

4. And in an effort to keep it real around here, AC gave me her birthday list revisions for this week. She still has a month, but she revises the list at least weekly. This week she has asked for a Nook, Tom's shoes, iTunes gift cards, and Lay's Potato Chips- BBQ.

Lay's Potato Chips. Not. Even. Kidding.

I think I'll go read on that note.

See y'all!

Foundational Truths Regarding Football and Hair

2011-07-18T09:37:00.001-05:00

Last night may have ended with this terse goodnight sentiment: "Why don't you go read I Corinthians 13 and thank the Good Lord Above that you have a wife that has promised to put up with your crap for all earthly eternity?"

We're just keeping it real around here.

I think it's safe to say that I might be running a little hot this week; the CRAZY is in full force. But, in all fairness, it was provoked. I may have come back a bit strongly, but still- PROVOKED.

You see- football is kicking up, so Coach is tense.

He's going to be at a new school with a new head coach, and he's kind of a big deal now. We're so excited. And by "we're" I mean me, Coach doesn't really do "excited."

Anyway, he's spending all his free time studying x's and o's, watching films, drawing plays, and doing whatever coaches do. And I have been, for the most part, quiet and long-suffering.

Generally, I don't do quiet or long-suffering, so it's been a challenging summer. A journey of self-exploration and personal growth, if you will.

It started simply enough. I asked him if he would be home by noon today. I have a hair appointment, and I generally like to arrive at the salon without my two underaged minions. So, I just needed to be sure he'd be home. Coach was snippy and sarcastic in his reply. See? PROVOKED.

I'm a football fan. I LOVE football. I do. Seriously. There is nothing better than the sound of marching bands and whistles and helmets colliding. There is no place I would rather be on any given Friday or Saturday in the fall. Coach will be the first to affirm that for me. I love it.

However, I can think of many places I would rather be on a hot Monday in July. One of those places is the hair salon where I will get a scalp massage, a kicky cut, and my natural color will be restored. In July I do not fret over football. I tried to explain to Coach that if only he would take the time to understand the foundational truths of high school football, he too could enjoy the remainder of a hotter-than-normal summer, girlfriend could get her highlights at the hair salon without an act of congress, and all would be well at the Momsense home.

He claimed ignorance regarding the foundational truths. Allow me to share...

Foundational Truths of High School Football

1. While there are 60 minutes of regulation playing time in a high school football game, there are only 12-15 minutes of time when there are bodies in motion and a ball in play. (Don't believe me? Record one and time it- I've done this math Homeslice.)

2. 12-15 minutes is not a lot of time. You can't even get a good eyebrow wax in 15 minutes, much less a scalp massage and a haircut.

3. 12-15 minutes of motion multiplied by 10 games is roughly 150 minutes.

4. For those 150 minutes, grown men who generally answer to "Coach" put their careers and expertise on the shoulders of a team of boys whose average age is 16.78 years old.

5. Experience and common sense tells us that counting on a team of teenage boys is not necessarily prudent and usually ends up featuring some impressive hormone-induced incompetence.

6. However, history will show that coaches will repeatedly play fast and loose with the hormonal incompetence of teenage boys in hopes of the cheap thrill of victory.

7. High school football coaches spend hundreds of hours making plans for 12 teenage boys to play with a ball for 150 minutes each SEASON.

Listen, I have spent the better part of the last 8 years observing Coach willingly put his professional life in the hands of teenage boys, which often leads me to question the existence of common sense, wisdom, and most certainly Social Darwinism.

But today? I just need 150 minutes to get my hair done- no Sunday coaching meetings, no two-a-days, no weight-lifting workouts, no preparation at all. Just 150 minutes of time to drive myself to a salon, get a scalp massage, a haircut, and a highlight.

And he calls me high maintenance.

Told you I was provoked.

See y'all!

We're in the Dog Days

2011-07-11T23:40:00.001-05:00

Howdy. Mack here. Sorry you're having to listen to the likes of me, but my lady-master has had a relapse of her outdoor euphoria. She's been out in my yard all dang summer- which is all well and good except that when she's outside- I'm outside. And frankly I prefer the indoors.

I'm a black dog. It was 103 degrees here today. Try being a black dog in that kind of heat.

But lady-master is good to me; she puts out a shoddy plastic pool she bought at the Wal-Mart a few years ago. Oh, it has two holes in it now, but it's all good because the big man fixed it right up with some duct tape which doesn't really do the trick, so they put it on the slope in the yard to keep it from leaking.

Honestly, I don't know why she doesn't splurge and spend the $6.99 for a new pool. The Maltese and the Golden Retriever behind us have an in-ground pool with a diving board and big wide steps perfect for napping.

Not us, nope the two black dogs have the 2009 Wal-Mart Special.

I tried to tell her we were a washed-up high school quarterback and a Trans-Am away from being THE southern stereotype, but she just keeps filling that sorry little thing up for me.

Until today. Like I said, today it was 103 degrees- heat index of 112.

You need gills to breathe outdoors because the humidity is so high. So it got her.

Today she stayed in.

Oh she made a go of it; trying to be all outdoorsy and such. She busted out at 6:00 in her gardening clothes like she was going to do something, but sweating isn't really something she enjoys, so she watered and called it a day.

But she filled up our pool and put on some Lynyrd Skynyrd for us.

So, if I had to guess, she'll be back to her bloggy indoor self tomorrow.

See y'all!

Ahoy!

2011-05-31T12:34:00.001-05:00

Well you know what they say.Stuff. They say stuff.

And clearly, I am not "they" because I have had absolutely zilch to say. Nothing. Nada.

We've been busy. I'm taking full advantage of understatement here. There's not a word for the kind of busy we've been.

Then we were kidnapped by two scurvy knaves

and taken here

where this knave declared it officially summertime

and told us we were forced to do this for the week

And there's nary a dustbuster in sight.

Anyway, we're headed down to the beach for a pre-dinner swim. Then, we're descending upon Paula Deen and her restaurant tonight where, as Coach said, we'll put an epic hurt on the buffet.

I'll keep you updated on our adventures, but in the meantime, go here for a chance to win a $100 Visa Card, compliments of Purina, BlogHer, Mack, and me.

See y'all!

Canine Culinary Capers

2011-05-02T11:00:00.017-05:00

Watch out. I've blogged two days in a row. I told you it was a resurrection. Today I have something for you. Go here to my review page; you can win $100.

You remember this guy. This is my baby, Mack. He still likes to snuggle up on the couch and watch television with me, which is a far cry from the other boy who lives in our house. That boy just likes me to drive him places and buy him food. He also has a fondness for ripe bed sheets. So, Mack is my baby now.

He's quite a character, and he tends to be obsessive. Compulsive really. I'm just going to call it like I see it; the dog has Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.

I have no idea where he gets it.

Perhaps you don't know what Coach is holding. That would be the bracket he made when we decided to have a Wiii Just Dance dance contest. A BRACKET. And y'all- he was ruthless. RUTHLESS. He had no qualms about decimating the girls. Honestly, I didn't either. Apparently snow showers and 80's music bring out the worst in both of us. So, we both ended up in the championship round. Coach vs. Me. Mano-a-mano. (And before you wonder if I spelled it correctly, I did. I looked it up. It's a phrase we took from the Spanish. It means "hand to hand," so technically I guess we were really culata-a-culata. Go look it up. I'm not telling you what it means.)

Anyway, back to this guy-

He's obsessive about two things: tennis balls and food. Back in the fall his love for food got him into a little bit of trouble. Go to my review page and read all about his culinary capers.

Oh yeah, and be sure to register to win the $100 Visa Gift Card!

See y'all!

Sunday Supper: Resurrection Edition

2011-05-01T20:01:00.002-05:00

Hey y'all! I know, I know- it's been a while. Sorry about that. We've been sucking the marrow out of our spring, but I'm resurrecting the blog this week. Seriously. And I know I've promised you "tomorrow" before and then gone all Scarlet O'Hara on you, but I promise- tomorrow I'll be back.

And I'm giving away money. Seriously.

There are a million reasons why I haven't blogged lately: 52 research papers, coaching a track team, raising children, emergency room visits, life, terrible storms, life...

Truth be told, last week I asked G to take his sheets off his bed so that I could wash them. He replied, "Noooo. I just made my bed, and besides you just changed them."

Me: "I don't remember the last time I changed them."

Him: "Mom, seriously, you just changed them like in February. Or January."

See? Blogging is the least of my worries right now. I'm 97% sure my mother just had a stroke when she read this, and obviously I need to get caught up on house work.

But I'm back.

And what better way to re-enter Blogland than with a couple of recipes? I don't have a supper menu for you, but I have two dessert recipes that will, as Coach likes to say, "make your tongue slap your brain."

Peanut Butter Banana Trifle
3 cups milk
2 (3.4 oz) packages of vanilla instant pudding
1 teaspoon vanilla
8 ounces sour cream
5 medium-sized bananas
1 package Nutter Butter Cookies
2 cups sweetened whipped cream

Place 3 cups milk and vanilla in a large bowl. Add the pudding mix and beat with an electric mixer at medium speed for 2 minutes or until thickened. Let stand 5 minutes. Stir in sour cream.

Cut bananas into small slices. Break cookies into bite size pieces.

Spoon half of pudding mixture into a trifle dish or 3 quart bowl. Top with bananas and cookies. Spoon remaining pudding mixture over bananas and cookies.

Top with sweetened whipped cream (or you can cheat and use creamy Cool Whip). Cover and chill at least 2 hours.

Double Chocolate Ice Box Pie
1 (9 ounce) package chocolate wafers
1/2 cup butter, melted
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
2/3 cup sugar
3 tablespoons cornstarch
4 egg yolks
2 cups milk
2 (4 ounce) bittersweet chocolate baking bars, chopped
1 tablespoon dark rum
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
2 cups heavy whipping cream
1/4 cup sugar

Pulse chocolate wafers in a food processor until finely crushed. Stir in melted butter and nutmeg. Firmly press mixture on the bottom and up the sides of a lightly greased 9-inch pie pan. Freeze crust for 30 minutes.

Whisk together the sugar and cornstarch in a heavy saucepan.

Whisk together milk and yolk mixture. Whisk yolk mixture into sugar mixture in the pan and cook over medium heat whisking constantly, 10 to 12 minutes or until mixture thickens. Cook another minute. Remove from heat.

Microwave chopped chocolate in a bowl on high for 1 1/2 minutes, stirring at 30-second intervals. Whisk melted chocolate, rum, and vanilla into thickened filling. Pour into prepared pie crust. Place plastic wrap directly onto the filling (prevents a film from forming); chill 8 to 24 hours.

Beat whipping cream and 1/4 cup sugar at medium-high speed with an electric mixer until soft peaks form. Top pie with whipped cream.

Eat until you're slightly ill.

Take a nap.

See y'all tomorrow!
(I'm not kidding. And I promise, there's money to be won!)

My People

2011-04-09T22:02:00.000-05:00

I'm working on my anti-aging beauty extravaganza post, but this weekend we've had some much needed family time after Coach and I have both put in two 80+ hour work weeks and the kids have tagged along.

Anyway, back to the family time. We've had some. And the time has not disappointed. My people, they are a funny bunch, and the things they say make me laugh til my water breaks.

1. Friday on the way home from school G said that the football coach had asked him to play football. (Background- he played in 5th and 6th grade. He was 4 feet tall and 3 feet wide- he played line. HATED it. Now he's 6 feet tall and tips the scales at 140- he's svelte, and he's fast.) So I said to him, "You know if you played you wouldn't play line- you'd probably be a receiver."

To which he replied, "Yeah, well that's great and all except I can't catch and I don't like to get hit."

I think that decision is made.

2. AC came in this morning and said, "I had the worst dream last night- not scary bad, just really really bad."

"Really, what about?" I said.

And so goes the dream: "My hair was reallllllly long. Mom, it was so long, like you can't even believe how long. So I went to get it cut, and the lady put it in a ponytail and cut off the ponytail, except she didn't give it back to me. Then we went home and someone had done a room makeover and I had two beds and rainbow colored shelves in my closet. Then I realized I left my hair, so we went back to get it. When we got there the lady who cut it was eating a boiled egg. I asked her for my hair, and she told me that she boiled it into an egg and she was eating right then. What do you think that means?"

I have to be honest- I've thought about it for the better part of the day, and I have NO IDEA what it means, but I do think the NyQuil she took last night is a bit suspect.

3. And finally- tonight Coach and I had a baby-date while G was at a dance. We were talking about important stuff like Darius Rucker and crab-artichoke dip when he somehow managed to compare L'il Wayne (offensive rapper) to Ernest Hemingway (American Fiction Master).

And that's really all I can say about that. Except we definitely have our own brand of crazy over here.

See y'all!

Have We Met?

2011-04-04T21:48:00.001-05:00

Hey There! It's been a while, and I've missed the old blog. All I can say is here at the Momsense home we've been busy. Too busy. Much too busy. I don't handle busy well; neither do my kiddos. So, Saturday night after we had spent 12 hours at a track meet and I had finished an 85-hour work week- I came undone.

Then the kids came undone. Then Coach went all Rain Man with the Dustbuster. NOT PRETTY.

Coach isn't really a fan of estrogen-related bouts of spontaneous weeping, and because the better part of his Saturday night was spent asking me "Why are you crying now?" he decided to call a time out.

Because that's what coaches do. But enough about that. I thought I'd give you a pictorial account of some of the things we've been up to lately.

1. We've had the longest, most dreary winter in the history of my life and there are only so many Wii Just Dance dance offs you can have before you have to get more creative. So one desperate Saturday we took the kids to the Country Music Hall of Fame.

Here's the welcome sign. It's like they knew we were coming...

The music industry provides MUCH Nashville-esque entertainment. FABULOUS skunk hair. EPIC really.

2. Then the sun came out and it was a balmy 55 degrees, so we went to shoot guns. We do that here. Turns out I'm pretty good at it. Weird huh? I think if I kept at it long enough I could even get in a fist fight.

I call this photo "Make Yer Daddy Proud"-

3. Then? Just as the schedule started to get hairy, I contracted the flu. Oh sure.

It bugged me. I fought it. It got mad. Really, really mad. So it morphed into a sinus infection and bronchitis. I fought it again. It got even angrier and decided to pull out the big guns. Pneumonia.

The upside? I lost 10 pounds. The downside? I sound like Barry White. Still. 4 weeks later.

4. Then IT happened...

Coach had me on suicide watch. It hurt. I'll talk about it when I'm ready. You can say 40 is the new 30 all you want. You can tell me that your 40's were the best years of your life. You can throw every platitude you can think of at me, but the fact of the matter is- 40 is the back end of middle age- IF I'M LUCKY. There is a very real possibility that 40 years from now I could be sitting in a chair drooling on myself and begging people to rub my bunions.

I have to be honest- I haven't even reconciled the gray eyebrow hairs yet, so I'm pretty sure that 40 years is not enough time to reconcile authentic old-age.

But, in keeping with my firm belief that a birthday should be well-celebrated I did not disappoint.

I took a cake decorating class...

I cut my hair, and I went here...

For a big girl make-over. I'll write more about that later this week. LIFE-CHANGING products. I'll give you the secrets.

Then we partied. First we partied with the kids. It was in the 70s and sunny so we went to a new burger place in our little town...

The menu is interesting. Coach ate a lamb burger.

Then Coach and the kids made a geocache which led me to my birthday card...and a snake. Awesome.

Then Coach called a few friends and invited them to one of my favorite restaurants. I didn't cry. That was exactly the mood Coach was going for. We watched basketball, ate cheese, and laughed for several hours. And I didn't cry. Did I say that?

Coach & Me. I'm not crying...

My baby brother. He has four kids. He wasn't crying either. The kids were running amok on a farm in Alabama.

My cousin Jennifer. She's the only daughter of my mom's only sister. She's not 40; not even close. You read about her and our mothers here...

5. Then Coach and I went with friends to their cabin in the woods. We needed to get away. Coach was tired of living with her/me...

So we had to take her/me here...

Before Coach shot her/me and left her/me for dead.

The End.

I'll be back this week. I promise. We must discuss Ethiopia. I still need your help.

And we'll discuss Sephora, chocolate, and birthdays. But we won't discuss 40.

And we won't cry.

See y'all

Less Than 20 Days...

2011-03-08T19:55:00.000-06:00

A looooooooong time ago in a lifetime far away I made an announcement about raising $10,000 for a small village in Ethiopia.

Then work got crazy. Then God said let it sit a while. Then I fell ill. I mean deathly ill, and I felt every bit of the 40 years I'm about to be forced to claim.

I just don't bounce back like I used to. Matter of fact, I would say there was no bouncing, merely a thud on the bathroom floor.

Anyway, I'm going Baptist Rogue on you now. This is the guilting portion of the drive. Would you please consider giving to the children and families of Dube Bute? Click on the tab on the top left- you can give directly to Dube Bute- 100% of your money goes to the people there- even the credit card processing fee is covered by Glimmer of Hope- NONE of your money goes to overhead or administrative costs.

Tomorrow I'm going to post a letter that I would greatly appreciate you circulating on your Facebook page, e-mail distribution lists, blogs, etc. You may not know me, and you may even find it humorous that 40 is literally KILLING me. But you know a child.

Imagine that child suffering from flu or bronchitis because medicine is not available. Imagine that child filthy because there is no water to bathe in. Imagine that child hungry because her food source is dying from easily cured animal diseases. Imagine that child missing her mom and dad because she's been orphaned because of illness and poverty. Imagine that child without hope because she will not know the luxury of education.

Now imagine if she were your child.

She's God's child.

He said we were to help her. Will you help her in the name of someone you know? Someone who would be honored to have his/her name attached to your donation?

Come on- you know someone who is turning 40, or 30, or 60 or 8. Celebrate their lives by giving life to a stranger a world away from you. Tell all your friends. We're almost 10% there. We need 90 families to donate $100. If you have a family of 5 that's a cheap dinner and movie with your entire crew. Can you sacrifice that for a child who has nothing? And if $100 is too steep give $1 joyfully- it's just as valuable a gift as far as God is concerned.

Help me please. It will make 40 a year of blessing.

See y'all!

Crazy

2011-02-23T20:11:00.002-06:00

On a fairly regular basis my mom makes a comment about how I'm always in some sort of mess or she'll say, "There's no one like you" or "You just won't do" or my personal favorite "I don't know where you get it."

I'll show you where I get it. My mom's name is Sue. Her sister, my aunt, is Kitty. Kitty has a daughter named Jennifer (she would be my cousin). Sometimes we have Facebook conversations. They go like this:

For the record- I had just posted a picture of my children and my dogs. My children are not black, but my dogs are. I would be absolutely fine with my children being black; it's simply a genetic thing. You probably know that though.

Sue (my mom) - My, you have such cute children!

Traci (me, myself, and I) - So do you.

Kitty (aunt) - I really think the two black ones are cute.

Sue - Two black what?

Traci - The dogs Mom

Sue - I thought she surely did not mean the dogs...after all, she doesn't even like dogs.

Traci - She likes dogs- you don't like dogs.

Sue - I like dogs....just not Mac! Ivy and I get along great.

Jennifer (Kitty's daughter, my cousin) - She likes dogs. Just not dog hair. Or slobber. Or dog food in the house. Or dogs in the house. And especially not dogs on the furniture or dog puke on the carpet. But she likes other people's dogs. At their house.

Just a couple of things I need to point out. My mom doesn't like dogs. She thinks she does; she doesn't. She's not afraid of them, we grew up with them, she tolerated them. She doesn't really LIKE them.

My dad does though. He'll tell you he is indifferent as far as dogs go; he'll try to covince you that they are just a lot of trouble. But he likes dogs- he likes them a lot. Especially big ones.

I'm not sure if my aunt likes dogs or not. If she really doesn't like dogs, she fakes her fondness a bit better than my mom. She LOVES to vacuum though. My mom is fond of the vacuuming as well.

You know Coach loves to vacuum, right? He and my aunt could be related. Technically, I guess they are related now.

I'm not fond of vacuuming though. I missed that gene.

I got the dog gene.

See y'all!

Come, and I Will Make You Fishers of Men

2011-02-17T08:43:00.000-06:00

So, that's what I want for my birthday. I want you to go fishing with me. In Ethiopia. I can't think of anything better than raising money so that the people you are about to see in the video will have clean water, a clinic to visit when they have basic health needs, classrooms to educate their children, and a veterinary clinic so that the animals that sustain their lives can be cared for as well.

Look at their faces. Listen to their songs. Watch little Eyasu ride into his village with his mom knowing that because he was chosen by the Alexanders, and because the Alexanders were chosen by God to do this thing, his village will have the means to sustain itself. Children won't have to die because they are starving or their water isn't clean. The elderly will exalted as they should be rather than left to die. The animals that provide food and clothing will not be ridden with disease.

I'm asking for 100 people/families to donate $100. If you could help by donating and/or spreading the word, we can help eradicate extreme poverty and give God's people some relief.

Please? It would be the best birthday present I could imagine. There is a button on the right side of the site. Click there and you can donate directly to Gladney which manages the project.

Also, please read more about the Alexanders and their love for Ethiopia on her blog, Soli Deo Gloria.

ethiopiasmile: Hope For Dube Bute from Kurt Neale on Vimeo.

See y'all!

Let's Go Fishing

2011-02-16T22:35:00.000-06:00

In less than 40 days I will be 40. This spring my oldest baby will graduate from 8th grade and enter high school, and my youngest baby will graduate from elementary school and enter middle school. Have I mentioned that baby #1 gave me stretch marks and baby #2 gave me wrinkles?

It's a perfect storm.

On Sunday I was convinced I'd end up like George Clooney trapped inside a sinking ship wondering what happened to my life.

And I do believe I mentioned that I wept. The weeping didn't help.

So I continued on into Monday.

And that's when I realized that I was in the throes of a mid-life crisis.

But I digress. I know I promised you HUGE news. So here it is:

Last night I asked you to pray two things for me:

"If you spend yourselves on behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed then your light will rise in the darkness and your night will be like the noon day." Isaiah 58:10

"I want to see a mighty flood of justice, an endless river of righteous living." Amos 5:24

And then I told you that God had a come to Jesus meeting with me.

It's big. It's really, really big. It's so big that there is absolutely no way that I can pull it off. This will be a total God thing.

And it's left me speechless and terrified.

We are going to raise $10,000 in 40 days for Dube Bute, a small village in Ethiopia.

I told you. HUGE.

Over the next few days I'll tell you how all of this came about, but for now can I ask you to do one thing?

Prayerfully consider giving to this cause. Your gift will help to provide water points, classrooms, medicines, and veterinary services to a village so that poverty can be wiped out one village at a time.

You can read more about it here. What I'll tell you today is this- 100% of your gift goes directly to the people of Dube Bute.

My bloggy friend Emily and her family started the campaign to raise almost $500,000 in order to save the children of this village. They are roughly $47,000 away from finishing the project.

Did I tell you that in addition to their 4 children, Emily and her husband have adopted two boys from Ethiopia? Those two boys have changed their family forever, but more importantly, because their family was changed, the lives of hundreds of Ethiopians will change.

I promise, there will be more information tomorrow. But tonight I need you to pray and consider giving.

And consider this...

And He said to them, "Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men."

God told me to go fishing for my birthday. He promised a big catch. Will you come with me?
See y'all.

40 Days

2011-02-15T21:52:00.004-06:00

I realized on Sunday that I had exactly 40 days until I reached my 40th birthday. Actually, I didn't "realize" it, God told me. I know, I know- weird. Not that he would tell me something, but that He was actually making a big deal about me being 40.

Don't get me wrong, I'm making a HUGE deal out of it, mainly because I don't want it to happen. Not even a little bit, which is totally out of character for me.

Coach will be the first to tell you that I usually start my birthday celebrations a good month or so ahead of time- he says it's really like my own little Mardi Gras.

Anyway, God made a big deal out of the 40 day countdown on Sunday. And it was totally not a coincidence that it was Sunday.

It was warm and sunny, and we took the dogs to our favorite park so they could swim, and that's when He told me to get my act together (of course, I had to go home and count the days on the calendar, because HELLO- I have abysmal math skills).

And I have to be honest here - I didn't really listen because I thought it was residual Coach talk from earlier when I tried to tell him I just wanted to remain planted on the couch for the day, and that I was not at all interested in seeing the sun or feeling the 65+ temperatures outside thank you very much.

To which he replied: "Too darn bad, get your sorry butt up and let's go. You're not going to sit in the house and mope today- it's too pretty"

So I said, "Fine, I'll go to the park and mope. Loudly. In your ear. Until you wish I'd just stayed home..."

Coach says I'm hard-headed. He says I'm wound tight. He even said that sometimes I get so wound that I fight life like a wildcat.

He said that. He actually called me a wildcat.

Honestly, if I'd been a boy, he probably would have punched me in the nose at some point on Sunday. And I would have deserved it. So, being called a wildcat is not so bad. (Actually, as much as I hate to admit it, I liked that analogy- still do. Wildcats aren't all bad...I guess. I don't really know much about them to be honest, but I would be willing to bet they don't have 40th birthdays, and that is a definite plus.)

So, to wrap this part up, we went to the park and let the dogs play, and I continued to pout until we made it home. Then I pouted some more. Coach shook his head at me.

Then I cried. Cried may not be a good word; wept is probably better. I think it was Mark Twain, or maybe it was Ernest Hemingway, or it could have been William Faulkner- anyway- somebody important once said that the most effective sentence ever published was the following:

"Jesus wept."

So, in the interest of effective writing and brevity, I'll keep is short. I wept.

And because brevity went out the window six paragraphs ago, I'll keep the rest short.

I prayed. And prayed. And prayed. For TWO DAYS.

I'm not patient either. It's a virtue that is foreign to me. So, two days was a long time.

Do you know the biblical significance of the number 40? I knew it was significant, but I didn't really know why.

Turns out, the number 40 is universally recognized as significant because of the number and uniformity of its occurrence and its association with a period of probation, trial, and chastisement which ends in renewal. Huh.

I have to be honest here- I'm not really a fan of the whole trial and chastisement part, but to be brutally honest- Coach and I have been wading in that for several months now. I am pumped about the renewal part though. I'd love a renewed heart, and I won't lie. I wouldn't balk at a miraculous erasure of some fine lines around my eyes.

Anyhoo, there are 8 instances in the Bible which specifically mention a period of 40 days. And there are 15 instances which specifically mention a period of 40 years. And EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM from the Israelites to Moses to Elijah to Jesus is a story of a period of trial that ends in renewal.

In hope. In truth. In love.

Soooooooooooooo.

Tomorrow I'm going to make a HUGE announcement. HUGE. It's the biggest step of faith I have ever consciously and willingly made.

But for now, pray these with/for me:

"If you spend yourselves on behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed then your light will rise in the darkness and your night will be like the noon day." Isaiah 58:10

"I want to see a mighty flood of justice, an endless river of righteous living." Amos 5:24

Stay tuned. Be sure to come back tomorrow. Tell all your friends. It's going to be good. It's going to be real good.

See y'all!

Momsense's Wild Kingdom

2011-02-11T10:49:00.000-06:00

Tuesday night Coach and I found ourselves sitting on our respective couches in a catatonic state trying to muster the strength to walk the 40 feet to our bedroom when I noticed the tingling sensation and an odd and not entirely pleasant smell.

I assumed it was a combination of being tired and Coach's overzealous and compulsive need to eat gratuitous amounts of fiber in the form of broccoli, nature's most pleasant smelling vegetable.

And then Coach said, "I smell a skunk."

And I thought to myself, "Yeah right. Skunk. However you want to spin it, we both know it's broccoli gas."

But then he got all wily and hyper and started walking around the house sniffing the air like a bloodhound without a cause. All the while, I continued to ignore him and was weighing the pros and cons of just collapsing on the couch for the night rather taking the long walk to the bed.

Then he opened the door to the garage, and bellowed "Holy Cow, I think one of the dogs had a run-in with a skunk."

I decided that Coach was overreacting. At the very least, I was hoping he was overreacting because oh my word the tiredness that had set in.

Did I tell you it was 11:00. In the P.M.?

And it was cold. 28 degrees to be exact. And sure enough, Ivy had been thoroughly doused in the face by a skunk. I know this because I was convinced that it was Mack who would be dumb enough to take on a skunk, so I decided to take the less pungent of the two creatures.

So. Very. Wrong.

Within moments both Ivy and I were in the front yard hacking and heaving.

And then I went inside.

Well, Coach was having none of that. It was at that moment that Coach decided to define a limit in our marriage. Apparently ridding the dog of skunk spray is a couple activity, not a husband activity.

So I got on the internet. And before you say tomato juice, let me tell you a few of things:
1. If you think I was about to pour cans of tomato juice on a neurotic dog in 28 degree weather at 11:00 in the evening, you have another thing coming.
2. Tomato juice doesn't work. It masks the smell, but doesn't get rid of it.
3. We didn't have any tomato juice.

Coach has never been more dumbfounded or put out as he was when he had to get in his truck and drive to the grocery store for peroxide, but I found a sure-fire solution to the skunk problem.

Peroxide, baking soda, and ivory dish washing soap.

Oh, and standing outside in 28 degree weather in shorts and a t-shirt soaking wet washing a neurotic dog who was more bothered by the bath than the skunk.

And if it happens again, I'll happily oblige her.

See y'all

One Flew Away From the Cuckoo's Nest

2011-02-01T20:34:00.000-06:00

Maybe I didn't mention it, but I went to San Francisco for a long weekend.

One of my dear friends from ninth grade turned 40, and it took a village and more wine than was probably prudent to get her there. To 40 that is. She lives in San Francisco.

Nat is an organizer by nature, so she organized an entire weekend of events for a group of her friends, and in the midst of fascinating conversation and lots of good food several books and films came up. It's an eclectic assortment, but I have to say a welcomed assortment. I've been trying for weeks to find a novel that could hold my interest for more than twenty minutes. I can't tell you how many novels I've started and quit because, frankly I'd rather drill a hole in my skull than continue, so I'm hoping there are a few gems.

I'll be really honest here, Natalie gave me her copy of Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stenger because I was so taken with the premise. I planned on reading it on the return trip.

Then I had to stop, because if I had continued reading while all of civilzation continued on its downward spiral into absolute savagery in the airport I was going to cross over into something, and I'm fairly certain it wasn't going to be safety. So I picked up a People and read about how Reese Witherspoon has finally found true love.

I just wonder, when did people lose all sense of decorum and good manners? Or is it just that I'm almost 40 and grumpy? I don't know. All I know is that my trip home was not an idyllic crossing into safety, rather it was really more of a One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest sort of trip.

Anyway, here are the book and film suggestions from the weekend. Enjoy.

Books
1. One Day by David Nicholls - One Day (Vintage Contemporaries Original)
2. Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts - Shantaram: A Novel

3. Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro - Never Let Me Go (Movie Tie-In Edition) (Vintage International)
4. The Postmistress by Sarah Blake - The Postmistress

5. Saving CeeCee Honeycutt by Beth Hoffman - Saving CeeCee Honeycutt: A Novel
6. 1000 Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini - A Thousand Splendid Suns
7. Wild Swans by Jung Chang - Wild Swans : Three Daughters of China
8. Loving Frank by Nancy Horan - Loving Frank: A Novel
9. The Devil in the White City by Erik Larson - The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair that Changed America
10. Shadow of the Wind by Carlose Ruiz Zafon - The Shadow of the Wind
11. The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova - The Historian
12. Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner - Crossing to Safety (Modern Library Classics)
13. A Long Way Gone by Ishmael Beah - A Long Way Gone: Memoirs of a Boy Soldier
14. A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry - A Fine Balance (Oprah's Book Club)
15. Freedom by Jonathan Franzen - Freedom: A Novel (Oprah's Book Club)
16. The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen - The Corrections: A Novel
17. Little Bee by Chris Cleave - Little Bee: A Novel
18. Infidel by Ayaan Hirsi Ali - Infidel
19. The Power of One by Bryce Courtenay - The Power of One: A Novel
20. Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follett - The Pillars of the Earth
21. East of Eden by John Steinbeck - East of Eden
22. Reach for the Stars by Serge Bloch - Reach for the Stars: and Other Advice for Life's Journey
23. A Mother for Choco by Keiko Kasza - A Mother for Choco (Paperstar)
24. What We Talk About When We Talk About Love by Raymond Carver - What We Talk About When We Talk About Love: Stories
25. The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin - The Happiness Project: Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean My Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun
26. Not Quite What I Was Planning - Not Quite What I Was Planning: Six-Word Memoirs by Writers Famous and Obscure

Films
1. Requiem for a Dream - Requiem for a Dream (Director's Cut)
2. A Prophet - A Prophet
3. The Secret in Their Eyes - The Secret in Their Eyes (El Secreto de Sus Ojos)
4. White Ribbon - The White Ribbon
5. Gods & Monsters - Gods and Monsters
6. The Silence - The Silence
7. Renzel
8. Vitus - Vitus
9. 38 - Serbian - http://www.spike.com/video/38film-center-serbia/3079257
10. State of Play (the BBC TV Series)
11. Short Cuts - Short Cuts - (The Criterion Collection)

See y'all!

Snow Bunnies

2011-01-26T14:59:00.000-06:00

So when I told you a couple of weeks ago that I'd be back tomorrow, I hope you understood that I meant that in the Scarlet O'Hara sort of way- where "tomorrow" is a little more fluid.

I've been in the middle of some very big things.

Like yesterday, I watched a video of an iguana drinking a juice box out of a straw. Seriously.

And I have spent several hours diligently layering myself with polar fleece and burying my head under a blanket while watching the Food Network, because oh my word you have no idea the weather we've been having.

We've had 3 separate snow events in less than a month, and let me just remind you that we live in the South. We aren't prepared for that kind of thing. After last year I did finally wise up and persuade Santa to bring the kids sleds after the unfortunate Rubbermaid incident.

What? Have I not you about the Rubbermaid incident?

Well kiddos, it's story time. Picture it. It was a dark and cold Saturday evening and the snow was imminent. Lots of snow. So Coach and I decided we should go purchase a sled for ourselves. The children were all away for the weekend, so we were going to act like kids again, break a hip, and get ourselves back in the house where I could proceed with whining about how sore I was.

And then Coach would call me Dairy Queen of Soft Serve and Weak Sauce and Soft. And I would agree with him and eat PW's sweet rolls contentedly from the couch.

Except we couldn't find a sled. Anywhere. Because HELLO, it's the SOUTH. So we decided to become inventive in the Wal Mart. We scoured every aisle for something that would work. Coach kept talking about finding sheet metal. I told him I didn't think Wal Mart had "sheet metal" and thank you very much, but I would prefer not to careen down a hill on a sharp piece of metal only to fillet myself in the name of outdoor fun.

Enter the Rubbermaid container. Specifically, a Rubbermaid Under-the-Bed box. It was shallow and slick on the bottom. It seemed like a no-brainer.

Well.

In actuality I'd probably say it was at least a 3-brainer, because Coach (aka Bill Nye, the Science Guy) and I were both convinced it was a genius plan.

Turns out, it really wasn't. So we bought our under-the-bed box, some Epsom salts, and a vat of Ben-Gay, and we went home and waited for the imminent snow.

Church was cancelled Sunday morning, so we watched a few episodes of Man vs.Wild in order to pump ourselves up, and then we went sledding. Coach, me, and a RubberMaid Under-the-Bed Box. We drove to the front of the neighborhood, the main thoroughfare, the place to be seen.

There was no one to be seen. And I have to say I was glad for that. It had been a while since I had been sledding, and frankly, my pants were too tight and they kept busting open when I sat down. (Don't tell anybody)

So, Coach put the box down, and in his most gentlemanly voice told me to sit in it. And then he sat behind me.

I need to interject at this point and tell you that this was last January. This was BEFORE Weight Watchers. We somehow managed to fit almost 400 pounds into a 30"x20" rubber container.

We defied the laws of physics I tell you.

And we looked like two praying mantises sitting in a match box.

And we got stuck. Then we got tickled. Then we fell over. Then a family we know, a family which includes two children we teach and coach, a family which includes a board member, a family we love and respect- well they drove by.

And they stopped. And they were laughing.

And there Coach and I were, writhing about on the ice trying to pluck ourselves out of an Under-the-Bed Box.
And so, I made sure we were adequately prepared for the snow this year with proper sleds.

And all I will say is this, it's all fun and games until someone breaks a tailbone. And this time it wasn't me; I managed to end the day with my rear-end uninjured.

See y'all!

Hurricane

2011-01-17T21:43:00.000-06:00

Obviously, laziness hit an all-time high at our house this holiday season. And yes, for the record, in my mind it is still the holiday season.

I don't like winter. It's cold, it's dreary, it's dark, and it's really, really cold. REALLY cold. I don't like it. It's a challenge for me to find a reason to go on living every day, and ever since we started Weight Watchers, the challenge has been compounded, because cheese, chocolate, and caramel have been severely limited here. And those were my top three reasons for carrying on until spring.

Anyway, enough about that, because Friday I did find a reason to hang on for another week or so.
Hurricanes. The ones with rum, not the ones with Sam Champion on television in vintage Land's End Squall Jackets.

The last time I had one was 1992, and I do believe you would have found me in the basement of the SAE house in my jorts and Greek Week t-shirt standing knee deep in water while electric fans simulated an actual hurricane.

It was a lot of effort for a fruity drink.

Then I turned 22 and officially outgrew the Hurricane. Well, except for when we went to Jimmy Buffet pre-concert parties...and all-inclusive Caribbean resorts. Hurricanes are a socially acceptable beverage choice in both of those situations.

And apparently they are back in vogue at a fun new restaurant in our town, 55 South. Southern Living loves it. So do we. And because they do authentic NOLA food, they can serve a Hurricane with confidence. And not being one to buck the system, especially where beverages are concerned, I partook.

And with one sip I was transported back to my college days- all 5 wrinkle-free years of them. (There was a year of grad school in there).

I love nostalgia. And apparently I won't frown at rum-flavored drinks with cherries and umbrellas.

See y'all!

I'll Be Back

2011-01-09T21:45:00.001-06:00

Tomorrow.

Everyone is fine- we've just been partying like rock stars (well, the kind of rock stars that have three active children, jobs, and go to bed by 10 each evening).

See y'all!

Chick Magnets and Clothes Pins

2010-12-20T20:31:00.000-06:00

Sorry. It's been a while. I've been busy. I don't mean sort of busy; I'm talking knock yourself unconscious and wake up in a bathrobe in the fetal position covered in microwave popcorn wondering what happened to your life busy.

My uncle died last week. He had struggled with juvenile diabetes since the early 1950's. It would have been a pretty somber funeral if not for my mom putting the moves on a much younger man. I'm not even kidding.

And she had help. She and my aunt Lynn double teamed him. He was 6'10 and he had good hair. My mom and Lynn would argue that Adonis himself had attended the funeral, but I assure you homeboy was a mere mortal and also a divorcee with a 3-year-old. Clearly far too much for two middle-aged women to handle.

However, he was more than gracious, because at one point my mother did tell him TO HIS FACE that he was, and I quote, a "chick magnet."

And my dad and uncle were both in earshot. (To clarify, my dad has two brothers. One was being celebrated, the other was standing slack-jawed with my dad as they watched their wives go weak in the knees over Too-Tall Timmy)

All's well that end's well though, because at the end of the day we could all take comfort in knowing that Uncle Mike probably got the biggest laugh of all at the antics of the women in our family.

And speaking of antics, Coach and I went to the movies so that I could get my Reese Witherspoon fix. The previews started and the next thing I knew Brooklyn Decker was bouncing across the screen. It was evident that the focal point of the shot was supposed to be her scantily-clad chest. Her very young, pre-childbirth/nursing, gravity-defying chest.

Coach said, "Well, that's not subtle is it? Holy Cow."

And I replied, " Oh give me a break. I can look like that too; I just need some duct tape and a couple of clothes pins."

And y'all. He was speechless. SPEECHLESS.

So anyway, I'm still hunting for the clothespins. I'll let you know how it goes.

See y'all!

I'll Be Brief

2010-12-16T20:52:00.001-06:00

I swear I'll be back one day soon. It's like Gallagher said, "I don't know why they put Christmas in the middle of the holidays when everyone is so busy." Except Christmas isn't my problem; my problem is exams. I gave mine today. I'll be back in the land of the living by Saturday.

In the meantime, I have a question. If you had to guess, would you say a man or a woman created these?

Friends, I present to you the Terramar Men's Nugear Wind Brief. It provides wind protection. And prevents chafing.

I guess a better question to ask is this: is wind protection in this particular area really a concern?

Just something for you to ponder until I return.

See y'all!

Spoiled

2010-12-07T20:42:00.001-06:00

Listen, I am not going to even try to pretend that I have a handle on things. I'm so excited about Christmas break that my head is about to blow off. It's my favorite time of the year, except for the cold. I'm not a fan of the cold. It's 21 here. Relatively, you may say that's not cold, but for the South, that's darn cold. And I'm a wimp about the cold.

Turns out, it's Mack's favorite time of the year too. He's a fan of baked goods. I made Puppy Chow this weekend- NOT the kind that you actually feed puppies, but the kind that creates hail damage on your hips. My mom thought I had actually taken time out to make homemade dog food for the dogs.

I love 'em, but I don't love them like that. I'm a big fan of all things Purina. Anyway, Mack enjoys Christmas goodies.

I made 9 cups of Puppy Chow on Saturday afternoon. By Sunday evening almost half of it was gone. I couldn't figure out who was eating it.

Ahem.

Guilty as charged...

Coach, who incidentally was secretly appalled when we met because I kissed and hugged my dog, has started spoiling ole Mack.

He has no shame.

Neither does Mack.

And don't even get me started about this...

Can you believe that this is the same person who almost stroked out the first time I let the dog in the house?

And can you believe that after all I've done for him, he goes and cuddles up with Coach on the couch?

Little twerps.

I'm in the middle of a grading, exam writing, Christmas project frenzy. I'll be back to myself by the end of the week.

See y'all!

Getting Our Game On

2010-12-02T13:55:00.002-06:00

So, we turkey-trotted on Thanksgiving. 3.1 miles to be exact. Coach and G ran more like gazelles and subsequently both beat personal records. AC and I ran; AC ran an extra half mile because she got so far ahead of me I had to make her run a loop twice so I didn't lose sight of her.

And then I did. Lose sight of her. Again. So, I prayed that God would either give me the strength and gumption to catch her or that he would deliver her safely to Coach and the finish.

Let's just say, to my absolute dismay, He did the latter, and I found myself gasping for breath along with the elderly and a man running "commando in velour lounge wear."

To be clear, those were his words, not mine.

All I'll tell you is that by mile 2 he had some significant chafing issues which significantly changed his running gait. You can visualize as you see fit.

It took me about a half mile, but I did manage to pass him in the end.

Then we ate Thanksgiving dinner. Twice. In one day. We ate twice in one day.

And I had cheesecake for breakfast on Friday.

And then on Tuesday? Coach was finally able to return to Weight Watchers with me. He hasn't been since July because of football. He lost 50 in 5 months, and he managed to maintain that throughout football season.

I anticipated a weight-related disaster. I wore leggings and Crocs out in public (seriously, do have any idea how light Crocs actually are? So what if I looked like a smurf?) And while I did manage to lose 2 pounds during the Thanksgiving week, I can only attribute it to a mild case of the trots (not of the turkey variety) and night sweats.

But whatever. If mild stomach upset and raging hormones are what it takes to lose weight, then so be it. I'm okay with that. Oddly, those two things in addition to a new Weight Watchers program have motivated me to once again shoot for Rock Star status. (The person with the most weight loss at our WW meeting on Tuesdays gets the Rock Star Award. It's cut throat.)

Coach is also setting his sights on the Rock Star Award.

It's an epic battle: Testosterone vs. Estrogen. Strength vs Strain (colon strain). Determination vs. Diverticulitis. Me vs. Coach.

I'd appreciate your prayers, thoughts, and any ideas for sabotage you might have.

See y'all!

Someone Beat Us to the Punch

2010-11-29T20:16:00.000-06:00

If you're new, you need to read this and this in order for the remainder of this post to make sense.

I didn't make my Christmas card deadline this year. I wasn't first. I wasn't even third. I was going to let it ride.

Until...

I realized someone stole our idea...

They did not, however, include nunchucks or throwing stars.

Pansies.

See y'all!

A Grown-Up Christmas List

2010-11-22T13:56:00.002-06:00

Let me start by telling you that Coach doesn't do Christmas lists...usually. As long as I've known him it's always been the same old thing- just khaki pants, Carhartt pants, and long sleeve t-shirts. That's it. Every. Single. Year.

It's frustrating. There's all the pressure of finding just the right gift because oh my word what if he doesn't like what I get him? And if you think I'm buying another pair of khakis or Carhartts you're just wrong. We have two closets full.

So anyway, he doesn't do lists. With two exceptions.

Two years ago he asked for a very large hunting knife, a flint, a compass, and a tent (in addition to the khaki pants and the Carhartts, of course).

I was convinced he was going to gut me and make a grand escape into the woods to live out some sort of twisted Red Dawn fantasy of his.

And this year.

This year, the list is a bit longer and far more unnerving than the crazy murder list of 2008. It came in the form of an e-mail. It was numbered. 20 items. Not since the Sears Catalog days have I seen a 20 item Christmas list. In consideration of your sanity I left off the normal items (shirts, ties, etc.) But the others are just another exhibit of the crazy that lives at our house.

It should be noted that, as he states at #14, he is rambling. It should also be noted that he obviously has some sort of fitness theme going here. And finally, I'd also like it noted that I have no idea how gymnastic rings and Lacrosse balls made the list, but I'm intrigued.

The List:
3. Body Science recovery tights – L

4. Abmat – againfaster.com

5. 20lb. med ball – againfaster.com

6. Jump rope – againfaster.com

7. Running shorts – not the short kind but something not as floppy as bball shorts. Size?

8. Anything we need for the house that may need to take the place of anything on this list.

9. Foam roller for recovery – like ones on againfaster.com (running stores may have)

10. Gymnastic rings – againfaster.com

11. Any shirts like the two Columbia shirts Traci got me (she knows what type)

14. I am rambling

15. 3 lacrosse balls – don’t ask!

16. Pull-up bar for garage – againfaster.com

17. Recovery bands for stretching – like ones in our weight room

18. INOV-8 shoes – 11 black or blue – againfaster.com

19. Anything to keep me warm now that I have become cold-blooded

20. Any camping gear – lantern, etc.

See y'all!

The Sporting Life

2010-11-17T21:59:00.001-06:00

So our boys won another game and now we're getting ready to play in the semi-finals for the state championship. It's kind of big. We play in the most difficult division in all of Tennessee, and we play teams that are nationally ranked each year.

Soooooo. We have to travel to Chattanooga Friday for the game. Originally I had planned on trying to meet up with LP- The Southern Drama Queen. We haven't had an adventure since the cupcake tryst back in the summer.

But today my principal asked me if I'd mind chaperoning the pep bus for the 8th, 9th, and 10th graders.

I can't think of anything I'd rather do.

In theory, it's actually a great idea. Since G is in 8th grade, it would provide me with a means to make sure he didn't get into any sort of Greyhound nonsense. I still have vivid memories of some unfortunate drama on a bus trip to Washington D.C. when I was in 4th grade. Anyway, like I said, chaperoning the pep bus is a great idea.

In theory.

The reality? The reality is that I am going to get on a bus with fifty 14-16-year-olds who are all currently in a deodorant no-man's land somewhere between novelty and necessity. You know the kids- the one's who are still using that first stick of Right Guard that Santa put in their stockings when they were 10? And while the boys play fast and loose with hormones and body odor, the girls have all just discovered Bath and Body Works.

So, I'll spend 4 hours of my Friday in a bus that smells of feet, arm pits, and Tranquil Mint Body Lotion.

And no, the irony of that sentence was not lost on me.

It's a pretty good deal. In exchange for my chaperoning duties I get a free ride to Chattanooga, a hamburger, and hopefully a ticket to witness a little football history at our school.

And then I should probably get up and run on Saturday.

Probably is a key word in that sentence. I signed us all up to run a 5K on Thanksgiving morning. I planned on resurrecting my running last week. AC went with me. I thought it would be disastrous. I thought she would cry and flail and feign some sort of medical ailment to avoid running.

She didn't. As a matter of fact, she ran without stopping for two miles. She also talked without stopping for two miles. And she didn't get tired. Or winded.

I didn't fair as well.

So, while I say I should get up on Saturday to run, the reality is that I won't. I'm going to go with a "man up and put your big girl britches on" approach. If that doesn't work, I'll trip AC, bring her to tears, and make it look like I'm holding back in the name of love and good sportsmanship.

See y'all.

The Butt That Buddy Built

2010-11-15T11:47:00.000-06:00

Here is some pertinent information you'll need in order to make "hide nor hair" of what I'm a bout to tell you. I don't know what "hide nor hair" means, nor do I even know if I spelled it right, because I don't know if I'm talking about the hair on my head or a hare that scampers about my yard trying to avoid Ivy the Huntress.

Incidentally, Ivy caught the devil squirrel yesterday. The devil squirrel has been taunting her since spring. Yesterday she reigned victorious. She brought me her booty. That's the second squirrel I've been given in the last two weeks. Although, the first gift was actually just a squirrel head sans skull and eyeballs. One of my students gave it to me as a gift after I talked to him at length about his love for hunting. He told me I could use it as a key chain.

I think that's weird.

Anyway. All of that is to say that I am not up to snuff on my southern sayings and don't know if hide nor hair is spelled correctly, but my mom says it all the time, so there.

Also, you need to know that I called my grandmother Buddy.

Her real name was Daisy Wynelle. I was in high school before I knew that. She was always just "Buddy."

The second thing you need to know is that my rear-end, though not huge by cultural standards, is larger than it once was.

I blame Buddy. She liked to cook. And read magazines. And get stuff in the mail. I laugh every time a magazine comes to my house because I'm addicted to them, and I get a few monthly reminders about the cloth from which I'm cut.

I'm frighteningly like Buddy. Sometimes that aggravates my parents. Sometimes they find it endearing. All I know is I'm like her. And I'm like my aunt Kitty. And apparently also like my sister-in-law Shelley because my mother calls me Kitty and my brother calls me Shelley, and my kids call me mom (and occasionally Woman when they are feeling brave and humorous and I am unconscious or out of arm's length), and Coach calls me Babe or Hey.

At this point my real name is superfluous and only complicates things.

Sorry for the rambling. It's been a while. The important things to remember are 1) I called my grandmother Buddy and 2) My butt is bigger than it used to be 3) I blame that on Buddy 4) Buddy died in 1994, and it needs to be noted that my butt was minuscule at the time
I have forgotten why I started writing this post.

I think it had to do with Cranberry Sauce and Jam Cake.

I'm pretty sure that was it.

So, how about I go on about my day and try to remember where I was going with this post. Tonight I'll post Buddy's recipes for Cranberry Sauce, Butterscotch Cookies, and Jam Cake (all the things that make the holidays the holidays) and maybe by then I'll have remembered what I was going to tell you.

I think it was going to be sweet and sentimental. As you can see, my mood is not sweet, nor is it sentimental right now. In the meantime I'll just say hi!

Hi.

See y'all tonight!

Time- It Waits For No One

2010-11-08T20:15:00.000-06:00

Much to my dismay, we fell back this weekend. That means it gets dark here at 4:30. That. Is. So. Wrong.

SO. WRONG.

We also had our first soccer-free, cross country-free, kid-free weekend since June. Well, AC was home Friday night- she had a stomach bug. It's superfluous at this point. And gross.

So, Coach and I had big plans. HUGE plans. We were sleeping late. We were NOT getting up and getting dressed early. We were doing whatever we wanted to.

We're crazy that way.

So, I turned on the electric blanket, cleaned the house, and got everything ready for the best night of slumber ever.

HA. HA.

Did you know that dogs don't really do the whole "falling back" thing?

Well, they don't. They just wake up and start howling to go out regardless of what the clock says.

Which is just one more reason I take issue with biology and the animal kingdom.

It's a good thing they're cute, though much less so at 6:00 am on a Sunday morning.

I'll be back tomorrow. I'm going to bed. It's 8:00. That would be 9:00 in dog hours.

See y'a'll!

Winners!

2010-11-08T08:45:00.000-06:00

Well I meant to post the winners on Friday. Then the littlest angel contracted a nasty stomach bug. So I watched Bee Movie a zillion times and mastered the art of toast making.

But I'm ready for the big announcement.

The winners? They are Gena and Tracie. If you all will send me an email with your address I'll send your book to you directly. You can reach me here: totalmomsense@comcast.net.

There will be news, recipes, and all sorts of fun later today!

Good Times and Giveaways

2010-11-03T13:27:00.001-05:00

Two weekends ago AC and I witnessed a real live bank robbery with guns and police and all manner of hoopla. We also shopped for jeans and the final pieces for the greatest Halloween costume of all time. I bought her a cookie at the mall. We played in the shoe department and she tried on all the high-heels and boots. She put on lip gloss and blush at the makeup counters. I even put the XM radio on Radio Disney. And that was just Saturday.

I was a shoe-in for Mom of the Week. (I don't aim for Mom of the Year anymore- too much pressure. I'm more of a week to week kind of gal.)

So you can imagine my surprise when my mom asked her what she did over the weekend and her reply was:
"Oh, not much. But, oh! Guess what? We did see one really cool thing."

I was waiting for the bank robbery story. Or maybe the Ugg Cardy boot story. (That is a short story by the way. I want some. Ugg Cardy boots that is. Grey ones. Size 7.)

She told neither the bank robbery story nor the Ugg story.

She told this story.

"Oh, it was so cool. We were going to get a scary movie, but then G wanted to get a movie for school. So we did. And then we went home to watch it. And guess what? It was BLACK AND WHITE."

You could hear laughter from my mom's end of the phone.

"No, seriously. It was all black and white. There was no color. It was the same people as the ones on the cover, but they didn't have any color. Have you ever seen that before?...You have? You did? It was? Well, when did they get color? Huh. You're old."

The laughter from my mom's end stopped.

But that child has gone on and on about the wonder of the black and white movie for two weeks. We watched To Kill a Mockingbird if you're wondering. If you haven't seen it with your kids, I would highly recommend it. It equally mesmerized the 14-year-old and the 10-year-old.

And y'all? We talked.

We talked about why people get embarrassed when they don't have the money to pay for things they really need. And why it's important not to make people feel badly because they don't have a lot of money. We talked about why everyone was so mean to Boo Radley just because he was different.

And that little 10-year-old who vacillates between being some sort of 21st century sage and a Jersey Shore reject observed that all the adults in her life encourage her to be different. Unique is good; sameness is bad. But then people are mean to you for being unique. People really just want you to be like them. That's what she said. I just fell into a deep depression because she was right, and I realized that perhaps the innocence was fading quicker than I'd like.
I asked her why she thought that was the case.

Her look of disgust and disbelief that I didn't know the answer was priceless.

"Duh. Boo Radley scared everybody. He's supposed to show you that different is scary, and if you don't want people to tell the neighborhood that you stabbed your father with scissors, then you need to be like everybody else."

Told you. Sometimes she's Aristotle, sometimes she's Snooki. It's a toss-up.

Anyway, I've been thinking about that movie and that conversation for two weeks. I've also been reading Modern Parents, Vintage Values by Melissa Trevathan and Sissy Goff. My aunt, who has one of the coolest jobs around working for Broadman and Holman, sent it to me in the mail. She told me to let her know what I thought.

So I will. And I'll let you know too.

Genius. Pure genius. Some of what they have to say about parenting seems to be common sense, but we all know that common sense was removed from our culture a while ago, so it bears repeating. But they also reveal quite a bit of information about teen/tween culture that I didn't know. It's vital information for me. I have two kids who are currently in those two categories, but I spend almost every waking minute of my life with 14-18-year olds. It's pertinent.

It's also practical. They do tell you what's going on, what it looks like for a teenager in today's culture. But they don't leave you hanging there scratching your head and thinking that your only hope is to home school them and never let them out of the house.

Matter of fact, they encourage things like Facebook, and cell phones, and various other pieces of technology. They give suggestions to parents so that we can be culturally relevant and our kids can be culturally relevant without being devoured by it.

It's good. If you have children I would go so far as to say it's a MUST READ.

So, I'm giving two away.

If you want a chance at winning, leave a comment below and tell me you're biggest parenting challenge.

See y'all!

**I'm closing comments at 5:00 pm CST on Thursday.

My OCD- It Knows No Bounds

2010-11-02T09:09:00.000-05:00

I'll admit it; I have gotten a lot of mileage out of Coach's OCD. We've all laughed at his dustbusting and laundering. He's been an awfully good sport about it, and I'll even admit that all of us benefit from his brand of crazy- it's a practical crazy.

Mine? Not so much. I obsess and come unglued when the spices aren't put back in alphabetical order, or the when the ginger ends up in the savory cabinet rather than in the sweet cabinet. Untidy closets and drawers bring me to tears.

I don't like internal messes; Coach doesn't like external messes. Oh, the things you could read into that statement.

Anyway, I also obsess over the Christmas card. I start thinking about it in early spring. Usually there is an idea by late spring. Last year Coach tried to thwart my idea by suggesting we dress up like ninjas and don throwing stars and nunchucks. (Incidentally, I had no idea until today that nuNchucks was spelled with an "n"- I've called them nuMchucks since the early 80's)

In his world nothing says Merry Christmas like illegal street weaponry.

So, anyway, I worry about it. I wish I didn't, but I do. To the point of losing sleep.

Call it vanity, call it crazy, call it whatever you want. I still worry about it.

And because we can never top our friend Coach P's cards; my only hope in the Christmas Card extravaganza is to be the first one in mailboxes every year. So that's what I do. I have those babies printed, addressed, and stamped by mid-November.

And then? Part of my Thanksgiving tradition is to go to the post office and put those cards in the mailbox so they are the first things out on Friday morning. Told you, it's a sickness.

Coach P is single. There's really no good reason for that either. He is DARLING cute; he's educated, self-sufficient, gainfully employed, he has no weird attachments to his mother or poodles named Precious, and as evidenced below, he has himself a sense of humor.

Because most of his friends are married and have children, he receives mailboxes full of Christmas cards featuring little ones in smocked dresses and John-John suits. (Oh, how I miss smocked dresses and John-John suits.)

But, back to Coach P. He has no children who wear smocked clothing. He would like some though- so if you're willing and single, and decidedly NOT crazy- send me an e-mail, I may be able to help.

But in the meantime he uses the Christmas season to showcase his sense of humor and mastery of Photoshop. He gets the award at our house every year for the best Christmas card.

See, I told you? Cute and funny. And one of my favorite people.

If you tend to put out a more conservative card that is free of ninjas, street weaponry, and Michael Jackson, you should check out Shutterfly's Christmas cards.

We've used them for almost 10 years. If you look here (http://www.shutterfly.com)%20you/ you can see what they offer. I've also created and purchased calendars for family members; click (http://www.shutterfly.com/calendars/wall-calendars ) to begin creating your own calendar. Or you can make holiday gift tags by going here (http://www.shutterfly.com/cards-stationery/christmas-gift-tags ). )

You can also make mugs, t-shirts, photobooks, and so much more. I've used Shutterfly for all my printing and photo gifts for many years. You can't beat their service, prices, or quality.

And with that I will say goodbye. I have to go work on our Christmas card.

See y'all!

We Just Kept Going and Going and Going...

2010-11-01T11:14:00.001-05:00

Here are a couple of gratuitous Halloween shots. Never has there been a costume more appropriate for a child in all the history of Halloween. I'm not even kidding.

Life is totally infringing on my blogging. I can't even remember the last time I wrote anything down except a grocery list. There's always a grocery list. The irony of weight loss is fascinating. I have never spent more time making lists or wandering the grocery store aisles in all my life.

Well, maybe I did, but I spent quite a bit more time on the Little Debbie and Hostess aisle then. And it was so much more fun. It's hard to get as excited about a bag of apples and Kashi cereal.

The Swiss Cake Roll is a hard act to follow, I don't care how many nutrients you have.

Anyway, our microwave broke last Sunday. I was pumped. I thought Santa would visit early with a new microwave/oven combo- you know the shiny stainless steel kind with the microwave/convection oven. I'd be lying if I told you I didn't spend the better part of my Sunday evening looking at new recipes to cook in my new oven.

Until the oven repair guy came and toyed with my emotions on a Monday morning.

Not cool, oven man, not cool.

He looked at it and said "Gollee, I haven't seen one of these in years. You can't get parts for these anymore. You might have to get a new one."

Cue the music and fairies. Giddy I was.

"Oh, no. No, it looks like you just need an electron and she'll be good for another 30 years."

(And he might not have said electron. He may have said neutron...or voltron...I don't know it ended with tron and began with "Oh no, I can fix it.") This is another one of those times that being a cussing kind of woman would have come in handy. But I didn't. I refrained.

I think I even said, "Oh good. I would hate to lose this 37 year old oven made by Hot Point. What a tragedy that would have been."

But, getting the part in for the oven that supposedly is so old that parts are not accessible took far longer than expected. So, I didn't have my popcorn dinner last night, and I've had to be quite creative with the leftovers. But, before the darn thing blew an electron, I made Potato Soup. It was good. It was really good. And it was easy.

But you'll need a microwave with working electrons. (Or you can peel potatoes and boil them and mash them, but why do that when Ore Ida has taken all the misery out of potatoes?)

Potato Soup
1 Onion, chopped
4 Tablespoons of Butter
1/3 Cup Flour
4 Cups of Half and Half (I used fat free)
3 Cups of Milk (I used 1%)
2 Bags of Ore Ida Steam and Mash Potatoes (Russet)
2 Tablespoons Cornstarch
Salt (to taste)
Pepper (to taste)

Toppings:
Bacon
Cheddar Cheese
Green Onions
Sour Cream

Melt the butter and saute the onions until they are translucent. In the meantime, put the potatoes in the microwave (follow the instructions). Add the flour and stir until it is smooth. Add the Half and Half and the milk. Mash the potatoes with a potato masher or a fork. I like mine a little but chunky, but you can do whatever consistency you prefer. Add salt and pepper to taste. My soup was a little "wet" for my preference, so I added cornstarch to thicken it up a little more.

Then we topped it with the toppings and ate until we were ill.

And I slept soundly while visions of convection ovens danced in my head.

See y'all!

Sunday Supper: Breakfast- It's What's For Dinner

2010-10-24T19:14:00.001-05:00

I put my kitchen through its paces this weekend, and I used enough butter to leave Paula Deen speechless. It's all Ree's fault. And Autumn. And impending holidays.

I discovered Ree's blog when Melanie went on about making cinnamon rolls. I was curious. I visited The Pioneer Woman's website. It was love at first sight.

I haven't found a recipe I didn't like, and I've made dozens of them. If you don't have her cookbook, The Pioneer Woman Cooks: Recipes from an Accidental Country Girl, click the link and buy one for yourself NOW. Load up, buy some for your friends too. They will love you with a love that surpasses human understanding.

Well, until they put on 15 pounds and have to join Weight Watchers.

Anyway, she inspired me to try some new things, so I was thinking. (I know, dangerous.) What if I took her cinnamon bread and coated it in my Nana's boiled custard and made Christmas Custard French Toast? Or, if I took that very same cinnamon bread and coated it with Egg Nog and made Christmas Egg Nog French Toast? Or, and you're going to need to hang on to your pants here, what if I coated it with leftover Creme Brulee and made Creme Brulee French Toast?

Heh, heh. It would be a trifecta of truly sinful french toast recipes. I love trifectas.

So, I made the cinnamon bread this weekend to make sure it was good french toast bread.

SCORE. Give her six!

I also wanted to try her Chocolate Chip Cookie Sweet Rolls and her Caramel Apple Cinnamon Rolls. Except I didn't put the apples or the apple brandy in the caramel, so I guess they are just Caramel Cinnamon Rolls.

So I made all of them. I took the recipe for the Chocolate Chip Cookie Sweet Rolls and halved the dough. The first half of the dough was used to make the Chocolate Chip Cookie rolls; the second half was used to make the Caramel Apple Cinnamon Rolls. The dough is the same, the only difference is the filling and the topping. All together, I had 5 pans of sweet rolls.

And one loaf of bread.

And a partridge in a pear tree.

So, I figured I might as well make some breakfast casserole to have for dinner tomorrow night along with sweet rolls or french toast. We'll see which one we're in the mood for tomorrow. And I promised a friend over a week ago that I'd send her the recipe for this casserole, and I haven't done it yet, so here you go.

Breakfast Casserole
4 pieces of white bread torn into small pieces
2 12 oz packages of 50% less fat sausage, browned
2 cups cheddar cheese, shredded
7 eggs, beaten
2 cups milk
1 teaspoon of salt
1 teaspoon of ground mustard

Spray a large casserole dish with Pam. Tear pieces of bread and cover the bottom of the casserole dish. Pour the browned sausage on top of the bread. Sprinkle the cheese on top of the sausage. In a large bowl, beat the eggs, then add the salt and mustard. Then add the mild and beat. Pour over the bread, sausage, and cheese. Let sit at least 8 hours, but 24 hours is best. Bake at 350 until cooked through and browned. (About 30 minutes)

And if you're wanting to try a different, but equally as delicious casserole try this one.

Good Morning Sunshine Casserole
1 Pound Pork Sausage
3 Cups Hot Cooked Grits
2 1/2 Cups Shredded sharp Cheddar Cheese
1 Tablespoon Butter
1 1/2 Cups Milk
3 Eggs, beaten

Preheat the oven to 350. Brown the sausage in a skilled and drain. Pour into a 9x13 baking dish.

Combine the grits, cheese, and butter in a bowl and mix well. Beat the milk and eggs in another bowl. Add to the grits mixture and mix well. Pour over the sausage. Bake for 1 hour.

Ree's Recipes:

Chocolate Chip Cookie Sweet Rolls
Caramel Apple Sticky Buns
Cinnamon Bread

Be sure to check in this week. There will be giveaways, reviews, and recipes for the many french toast variations. And my potato soup recipe.

See y'all!

Boo! (Radley)

2010-10-23T23:14:00.001-05:00

Last night the kids and I opted to stay home rather than go to the football game. I told you, I gave up football. Except for tonight. Tonight is Tennessee vs. Alabama. It's kind of a rival. Kind of.

Anyway. G and AC were both in the mood for a scary movie. G is 14 and has NEVER been a kid who was scared by ghosts, monsters, amusement park rides, etc. AC, well, she's different. A polar opposite really.

So, the challenge was to find a movie that didn't have sexual content, language, and was scary, but, for the love of Pete, not too scary, because the last thing I want to do is stay up with a hysterical child.

I was thinking Private Eyes...

G was thinking Friday the 13th... (Yeah right. You have to admire his boldness of suggestion though)

AC suggested It... (She doesn't think a movie with clowns can be to scary.)

Then I remembered Poltergeist. It was scary, there was no sexual content, no blood, and no language. G was less than enthused, but he went with it.

But then he brought this over...

and asked if we could watch part of it because he's working on an English project where he has to construct the neighborhood in Google SketchUp. He was having a hard time picturing how Boo Radley's house had to sit on the street.

He's very literal minded- he needed to see a visual representation. There was a near come-apart over something about how Boo Radley's porch juts out, but sits facing away from the street...or something.

Anyway, we rented To Kill A Mockingbird.

Then I lectured him all the way home about how different movies are from books and how he had better not be planning on watching the movie rather than reading the book and blah blah blah.

It's my duty as an English teacher...and a mother...and an American.

He replied "I would never do that. It would break the Honor Code. And besides, the book is really good, but don't tell anybody I said that."

"Oh, I won't" I said.

So we made it home and put the movie in to play.

"Hey Mom, what's the deal? Where's the color?" G asked.

"It's black and white."

"The WHOLE THING?" he asked.

"Yep. It's a black and white movie. Did you not know that."

"Ummm. NO. No I did not. This is going to be bor..."

And then he was hooked. And so was she. And I have to say, it was the best movie night we've ever had. They were both mesmerized.

Afterwards, G went directly to his room to read more of the book.

AC was terrified that Boo Radley was living in our back yard waiting to stab her in the leg with some scissors. Seems she may not have totally understood the movie.

And I've never been more thankful that we didn't start the evening with Poltergeist.

See y'all.

A 3 Hour Tour

2010-10-20T13:27:00.001-05:00

Someone (me) thought that a canoe trip would be a perfect way to spend a glorious fall day in Tennessee. Someone (still me) was right, for the most part.

BUT.

When you throw six children ranging in age from 14 to 4 into the fray, you'd better be ready for almost anything.

And we were. I packed Oreos and Capri Suns- all would be well.

I need to preface this by saying I am more than thankful that this adventure did not end with a trip to the ER, but I will tell you that Coach navigated us into a tree where my ear was nearly ripped off. He thought he was so funny when he told me not to worry, I didn't use my ears much anyway.

I told him that was an awfully brave statement for a man sitting in a canoe with an injured woman armed with a canoe paddle.

The trip started out smoothly enough, and how much can possibly happen on a 7 mile trip? The little canoe guy told us it would take about 3 hours.

Or, six and a half, but as you can see below- AC is totally cool with the entire thing and is giving the universal thumbs up. I, however, became quite concerned that the Oreos wouldn't satiate for much longer than 3 hours.

I was right.

Moments later they had managed to run their boat on the lone rock in the middle of the river. They are a talented trio.

Obviously, V did not see the humor in the situation. AC was tentative, and a bit irritated, G found it hilarious. And I laughed so hard my water broke....

And I'm not pregnant.

We, and by "we" I mean Coach and my brother, got them off the rock and we continued on down the river. You can see the enthusiasm on AC's face.

She is occasionally moody. And she's not really shy about letting people know how she feels. It's a dubious characteristic at best. It is best treated with Oreos.

G decided a good splash from the paddle would shut her up. It looks like it might work...

I take that back. It did NOT work. And there weren't enough Oreos on the planet to appease her once she reached the ugly cry.

So, she ended up convalescing on the couch and having a hissy fit about nature and leaves and snakes and rivers.

We were planning an overnight canoe/camping trip.

Now we're not.

The End.

See y'all!

What Separates Us From the Yankees

2010-10-16T20:17:00.000-05:00

Did you know that Martha Stewart has never heard of cream of mushroom soup? I guess she'd turn her nose down at green bean casserole. Or she'd make her own cream from her grain-fed cows and gather wild mushrooms from her farm in Connecticut.

Ugh.

Now, I'm with Martha all the way on using choice ingredients and paying attention to taste, but when I talk about choice ingredients I'm simply saying y'all should use Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup and not that For Maximum Value stuff that costs $.23 per six pack.

Because frankly, sometimes there is no good substitute for Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup or Velveeta Pasteurized Cheese Product for that matter. Some people's mommas would tell you those two ingredients are the cornerstone of the Southern diet.

I'm sorry. I'm just trying to keep it real.

Keeping it real, incidentally, is one of many things that separate us from our geographically challenged friends to the north- along with Velveeta Cheese, Campbell's Cream of Mushroom Soup, and pies. And potatoes. And our ability to wear Lilly Pulitzer dresses and capri pants while still being taken seriously.Oh, and humidity, and SEC football, and good bourbon. And oh my word, where would we be without Mimosas? (And I'm not talking about the kind you grow in your yard.)

And while I could go on and on about capri pants, and Lilly dresses, and bourbon, and football- tonight I figured I'd just post some recipes for pies and potatoes.

Fudge Pie (It's famous. My momma makes it. Now I make it. My kids drool over it. )
3 tablespoons of cocoa
2 tablespoons of all-purpose flour
3/4 cup sugar
6 tablespoons of melted butter
2 eggs, beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla
Pie pastry - NOT deep dish

Heat oven to 350. Mix the dry ingredients. Add melted butter. Add eggs. Add vanilla. Pour into pie pastry and bake 20-35 minutes. You want it gooey in the middle. This one is life changing; I think I'd even say spiritual.

Chess Pie (from my momma)
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon cornmeal
1/2 cup butter, melted
1 tablespoon vinegar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
3 eggs, slightly beaten
Pie pastry

Combine sugar, cornmeal, butter, vinegar, and vanilla. Stir until blended. Stir in eggs, mix thoroughly. Pour into pie pastry. Bake at 350 for 50-55 minutes.

"Those" Potatoes (from Mrs. June, who goes to my momma's church)
6 medium/large potatoes, peeled and cubed
1 clove garlic, minced
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon onion powder
8 oz. sour cream
8 oz. cream cheese
1 cup cheddar cheese, shredded

Preheat oven to 375. Cover potatoes with water and boil until tender. Drain water. Add garlic and salt and mix with a stand mixer. Add sour cream, cream cheese, and onion powder. Throw some pepper in there too. Pour into a casserole dish and top with cheese. (Honestly, I use a whole lot more cheese. A WHOLE LOT MORE.)

But, take heart, it's not Velveeta.

This time.

See y'all!

Do Lord

2010-10-13T12:43:00.004-05:00

"Do Lord, oh do Lord, oh do you remember me..."

And the answer to that would be yes, yes He did.

Because, today is the last day of the work week! We begin fall break, and it doesn't end until Tuesday! Woo hoo and AMEN.

We received everyone's report card, and we are thrilled that everyone made the honor roll. I have lost two pounds this week despite a caramel cupcake frenzy, and there is no football game, so Coach will be around.

And if all that isn't enough, just listen to what G did last night. (He'd be the one on the far left that sings the solo after the girl who can put Whitney Houston to shame)

This morning he woke up tired, and grumpy, and snarky.

I decided to let it ride.

Today, we'll let our little lights shine.

See y'all!

Random and Possibly Inappropriate

2010-10-11T22:28:00.001-05:00

Well, I've given up on football. It's okay, I'm fine with it. Come February when everyone is talking about what they're giving up for Lent, I'll remind you- I gave up football in October.

I'm from the South. That's sacrifice.

And I've been trying to learn long division. AGAIN. Turns out- you actually do use all that math you learn in school...when your kids have to learn it.

I've also been cooking. Tonight I made fajitas, and I bought some high fiber tortillas. Each one of those babies had 20 grams of fiber in it. Coach was giddy; he's a science guy. He loves to talk about chemical reactions and soluble fiber and colons and such.

However, I'm fairly certain you don't want me to start talking about colon function or soluble fiber.
But I will tell you this- I'm more conservative with my fiber intake than Coach; my colon is temperamental. I ate one tortilla.

G had four.

Now, I know I was griping about math earlier, but this is a pretty simple problem.

20 grams of fiber x 4 tortillas = a loud and unpalatable anatomy experiment.

Not since that child was 15 months old and he projectile vomited on a complete stranger in the Denver airport have I been more repulsed and amazed at his body adventures.

At a particularly odorous point AC added that she did not eat anything with fiber in it, and therefore does not share in G's gaseous plight.

Yeah right. AC has a habit of making outrageous nutritious claims. It's kind of like the time my brother convinced my sister-in-law that he was allergic to rice...and Beef Stroganoff.

SIL called Bull Malarky on that one really fast. We did warn her though, my brother has been known to projectile vomit when he eats foods he finds unpleasing.

Just ask my mom.

Let's just say there was an unfortunate lima bean incident in 1983 which left her sobbing and scrubbing wallpaper. He threw down the gauntlet when he barfed on the new Waverly wallpaper. And to everyone's surprise- she relented.

And honestly, I've never been so thankful for his culinary dramatics in all my life. I hated those stinkin' lima beans. You have absolutely no idea how long it takes to swallow lima beans whole...one by one.

Oh yeah- I have a brother. He's the baby. He looks like this...

Except he is taller and has gray hair. I would like to state, for the record, that I still do not. I attribute it to my healthy love of Beef Stroganoff. Actually, the little guy above is Brother's second boy. He reminds me of Lightning McQueen- the boy, not the brother.

Baby Brother is the cool, athletic one. He's cat-like, always landing on his feet and always really cool. He contracted LL Bean Syndrome after college and moved to Colorado. He camped and kayaked and had two really cool Malamutes. He learned to ski, and he doesn't look like a dork in outdoor clothing.

I'm more like an Irish Setter- running into walls and barking at blades of grass. And I look like a dork in outdoor clothing. But I digress.

The reason I don't talk about him much is because...

he has four kids. Four kids who are five years apart. SIL was pregnant for almost 5 straight years. They've been changing diapers for eight years. They are...busy.

But I could tell some stories. Oh yes I could.

And so could he.

See y'all!

Picture Perfect

2010-10-04T21:45:00.001-05:00

I've been preaching to my Creative Writing kids that the only way to improve is to keep on writing. I'm trying to practice what I preach. Nothing was coming together, so you'll just have to deal with the randomness of pictures I've been staring at tonight...

1. In March, Coach and I went to New York. NYC was a life-long dream of mine. I've asked on multiple occasions if we could retire there once the kids go to college. Coach keeps saying that people don't retire to overcrowded, crime-ridden cities.

I say nay-nay.

Anyway, we were on a death-march through the city trying to see everything in a day when Coach said "Hey Babe, look it's Vera Wang."

I've never been prouder or more in love with a man in my entire life. And if that wasn't enough, while I was staring at the dress in my camera's view finder he also pointed out Jimmy Choo.

I didn't ask to go in either store. Incidentally, he's never been prouder or more in love with a woman in his entire life.

2. This picture was taken in October of 2007. Ivy is swimming and Mack is standing on the bank watching. I love how sweet his little 8-week old bottom looks. I can still smell the puppy breath...

So, how odd is it that almost 3 years to the day later I have this picture...

Not only is it the same pose, the same pond, the same dogs. He's standing almost EXACTLY where he was in 2007.

I miss puppy breath.

3. Remember the disco-ball/locker story? I told you I wasn't kidding...

4. Do you love bacon? I love bacon. And cheese. Here's an easy treat for you to flap your lips on. Get some water crackers- put a generous pinch of parmesan cheese on each one. Wrap with 1/2 slice of bacon. Bake at 250 for 2 hours. It makes men swoon.

5. This makes me smile. I'm thinking that it also made quite a few Vol fans smile after Saturday's disaster. Someday I'll have to tell you about the time my roommate from Chicago and I went deep into the mountains to Pappy's "house" to buy moonshine for her midwestern friends for Christmas. I use the word "house" LOOSELY here. The last mile had to be traveled by foot. There were booby traps...and dogs...

My mom has never heard this story. She's going to call me and ask me if I had lost my mind. When I tell her I also jumped on a train behind Fraternity Park with three other girls and rode it all the way to North Carolina when I was a freshman, she'll have her answer.

And my dad won't believe me when I tell him that we did all of this completely sober.

But it's the truth.

6. At the beginning of last week this was what the temperature read in my car on the way home from school.

Which is why she felt the need to dress like this yesterday when the temperature only made it to 63. She also asked for hot chocolate and her flannel sheets. We're a little thermally challenged in the South. 63 is COLD.

7. G found this in the parking lot at Kroger. It's Javon's preschool progress report from Friday. Homeboy had himself a day on Friday. G thought it was hilarious that all of his bathroom activity was recorded. He was also impressed that Javon had a tuna melt and peas for lunch- pretty high falutin for pre-school. He was in a good mood Friday (Javon, not G).

We don't know Javon.

But Javon made me wish I could turn back time to days full of dirty diapers and puppy breath.

See y'all!

Working for the Weekend

2010-10-02T22:54:00.001-05:00

Well, we've been working harder than the third monkey trying to get on the ark this week. Friday was the day that both Coach and I hit the tipping point. Coach isn't a complainer, and he usually doesn't let on when he's feeling the pressure of life.

Usually.

Friday was not "usually", which is unfortunate because I was fully ready to pitch a fit of my own and fall right on in it for a day or two, but alas, it was Coach's turn. He hasn't had the luxury of a melt down in a while.

I gladly obliged him. It was a busy and stressful week.

We both teach high school freshmen. They are darling. Energetic, but darling. Usually. Again, Friday was not "usually"; Friday was Homecoming. Friday was the first Homecoming EVER for freshmen.

Friday was a difficult day. I'm talking trying to keep bullfrogs in a wheelbarrow kind of difficult.

So today? Today we rested. We stayed home. We haven't had a Saturday at home since JUNE. And all 5 of us have been running on tired since June.

Monday Coach had a JV football game to coach. Tuesday V had soccer practice. Wednesday G ran in the cross country championship.

Thursday V had soccer practice, and Coach and I had to make a video for the pep rally. Friday AC had chorus practice at 3:30. G had to attend the girls cross country championship at 4:00. Coach had to coach the football game at 7:00. AC had to perform at half-time.

And before I knew it I was sitting bleary eyed in front of the television at 2:00 AM waiting on Coach to get home from the game.
So today we rested. We visited some friends. Coach and I sat in a swing under a big old oak tree and watched the dogs swim in the pond while the kids ran around laughing.

Mack swam and fetched to the point of delirium. It's who he is. We've learned to let it ride.

Ivy, who incidentally is nuttier than squirrel scat, rolled in horse manure and ate acorns.

Are you wondering if acorns are safe for dogs? Yeah, I was too.

Lucky for us the friends we were visiting both happen to be veterinarians. So Coach asked. Dr. Friend said it was not a big deal, but of course anything could be toxic if the dog ingested too much.

And then we heard about a Lab who ate 3 pair of underwear, two socks, and a bra. Impressive isn't it? I KNOW.

And what's more impressive is this. Out of three pair of underwear, two socks, and a bra- the only thing that was chewed was the bra. And if swallowing undergarments without chewing doesn't impress you, then maybe knowing that the only item the dog passed on his own was the bra might do the trick.

Then Dr. Friend went on to tell us that the acorn "crop" an oak tree produces is know as a mast. And apparently hunters and oak tree masts are not friends. It didn't make sense to me; why would anyone care?

And Ivy continued to eat acorns. Dr. Friend said, "Don't let her eat too many; they can do damage to her kidneys if she eats too many." And then I put two and two together and figured that if acorns would make dogs sick, they'd probably make deer sick too. And apparently hunters find it much more entertaining to hunt deer who do not suffer from the trots.

So we loaded everyone up and came home. We ate dinner and then we built a fire. And by "we" I mean Coach built a fire. But the collective "we" did roast marshmallows and make s'mores.

Tonight we realized there are only 4 more Octobers for us as a family of 5 before G leaves for college. The girls reiterated that the Pumpkin Patch was for babies, and Coach threw down the gauntlet and told them we would all be going to a haunted house this year since they were so grown up.

Except me.

I also realized that AC had done a complete wardrobe change because she wanted to match the fire. She knew I'd be taking pictures. She's thoughtful that way.

Note: She doesn't do laundry.

V is exhausted. She sat bleary-eyed and catatonic in a chair by the creek

until her father decided to try to scare them with his elaborate plan to sneak up the creek bed wearing a Jason mask and a wielding the ever-terrifying power drill.

And then the wild rumpus started.

See y'all!

Sunday Supper: Edition 31

2010-09-25T09:30:00.000-05:00

We are heading to Knoxville today to see my cousin get married. We'll also be eating cake. I think I mentioned that. So tomorrow will be spent driving home from Knoxville at break-neck speed so Coach can go to the Sunday afternoon Coaches' meeting.

And I will probably eat popcorn and have a Diet Coke.

But Monday?

Monday, we'll be having braised pork and cheese grits and fried okra. We might have some salted caramel brownies too. It all depends on my level of industriousness on Sunday afternoon.

It could go one of two ways. I could cook and clean with wild abandon or I could watch Sweet Home Alabama while reading my new InStyle.

It's a conundrum.

But, for those of you who are ready for a pretty simple dinner that will blow your family's ears off here you go:

Braised Pork Shoulder
6-8 oz Pancetta, chopped
2-3 Onions, sliced thinly
1 bone in pork shoulder (5-7 pounds)
Kosher salt
Pepper
2 tablespoons Canola oil
5-6 cloves of Garlic, minced
2 teaspoons of Ground fennel seed
1 teaspoon of crushed coriander seed
2 cups Ale
1 cup chicken stock

Okay, so you can cook it one of two ways- you can either cook it in the oven on 300 for 4-5 hours in a dutch oven, or you can cook it on low in your crock pot for at least 8 hours on low. It's up to you. Personally, I love the crock pot.

Put the pancetta in a dutch oven over medium-low heat and cook until crispy. Remove the pancetta and add the onions to the rendered fat. Caramelize the onions (will take about 25 minutes). Transfer the onions to a plate as well.

Season the pork shoulder with salt and pepper. Add oil to Dutch oven and sear the meat on all sides. Add garlic and spices to the pot and cook another minute or so. Then add ale, chicken stock, pancetta, and onions; bring to a simmer.

Transfer the dutch oven to the oven and cook at 300 for 4 hours or until meat is falling off the bone. Be sure to baste the meat every hour or so.

If you choose the crock pot method, transfer everything to the crock pot, set that baby on low, and cook it all day long. Be sure to baste occasionally.

Shred and serve over cheese grits.

Cheese Grits
1 1/2 cups Quaker 5 minute grits
6 1/2 cups boiling water
2 Eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 cup Butter
1/2 lb. Velveeta cheese
1/2 lb. Sharp Cheddar Cheese, shredded
Garlic Powder (to taste)
Louisiana Hot Sauce (to taste)

Boil the water and add the grits. Turn the heat down to prevent spattering. Cook water off the grits. Then add the eggs, butter and cheese. Add a few douses of hot sauce and garlic powder to taste. Sprinkle a bit more garlic powder on top. Bake at 350 until browned. (45 minutes-1 hour)

Fried Okra

6 cups oil, for frying
1/2 cup cornmeal
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons House Seasoning, recipe follows
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
2 pounds fresh okra, sliced 1/2-inch thick
1/2 cup buttermilk

Heat oil in a large, heavy-bottomed skillet or Dutch oven to 350 degrees F. (You may not need to use this much oil; do not fill the pan more than halfway up the sides with oil.)

In a medium bowl, combine cornmeal, flour, House Seasoning, and cayenne pepper. Dip okra in buttermilk and then dredge in cornmeal-flour mixture to coat well. Carefully add okra to the hot oil and cook until golden brown. (It may be necessary to fry the okra in batches.) Remove from oil, drain on paper towels, and then serve immediately.

Paula Deen's House Seasoning:

1 cup salt
1/4 cup black pepper
1/4 cup garlic powder

Mix ingredients together and store in an airtight container for up to 6 months.

Enjoy! See y'all!

Biggest Loser/Extreme Makeover

2010-09-24T15:02:00.002-05:00

My cousin is getting married Saturday.

I love weddings, and not for the sentiment. I'm not a sappy wedding lover, but I do happen to be quite a cake connoisseur. It's all about the cake. Wedding vows are eternal, but a good cake?

It has a shelf life.

Don't be offended. We're Protestants. Unless someone sings"Ave Maria" and "The Lord's Prayer" and someone else reads I Corinthians 13 in its entirety, a Protestant wedding is 15 minutes long. 20 tops.

And then there's cake. And little sandwiches.

And hope springs eternal.

It also means we have to dress up. That's apparently going to be a bit of a problem for Coach. Because this time last year?

He looked like this:

And now he looks like this:

Except for the doll he's holding like a football. (It's a long story- the important thing to know is that Coach has never been more stunned to find himself in an American Girl Doll Store.)

Anyway, there's a little less of him now. Actually about 55 pounds less. So he mentioned last night that his suit is ginormous on him. He also mentioned that he conditioned his hair for the first time this century. (I told him it was looking a little dry on top from all the sun and chlorine).

Our conversation:

Him: I conditioned my hair. It feels weird. Slick.

Me: Do you mean soft? Silky?

Him: I'm a dude. I mean slick.

Me: Okay

Him: You know my suit is going to be huge.

Me: Don't you have a skinny suit?

Him: A what?

Me: A skinny suit. A suit from when you were skinnier.

Him: No. The last time I was this skinny was... Well, I've got two words for you: double breasted.

Me: Well no.

NO.

See y'all!

Don't Stop Believin'

2010-09-23T19:55:00.000-05:00

Faith: to believe; to put one's weight on; to hope

Faith is the thing that keeps this whole world turning, because everyone believes in something right? God. The Vols. Their mommas. Fried okra. Chocolate. Something.

And some weeks we just have to believe harder than others.

This has been one of those weeks.

Nothing tragic- just a long string of annoyances and idiocy that has driven me to singing "Don't Stop Believing" over and over.

Journey makes me happy.

Or they USED TO.

Until they replaced Steve Perry with a Filipino man named Arnel Pineda, which is almost as bad as having the Gleeks sing it on Glee. (I know Leslie, you're going to think this is blasphemous, but sometimes the Gleeks need to leave well enough alone, or at least leave Journey alone).

Don't believe me? See for yourself.

And if that's not enough, AC (who, if you will remember, is NOT gifted musically) came home with the sheet music for "Don't Stop Believing" as it was performed on Glee. And she proceeded to Ba ba ba ba ba and sing for much longer than I enjoyed.

And if THAT wasn't enough, when she finally started singing she did sing loudly and with great enthusiasm "Just a small-town boy born and raised in the South to destroy"

So wrong.

Funny, but wrong.

Add some vertigo, strep, temperatures in the high 90's, humidity that's off the scale, some teenage idiocy, and long division, and you find yourself in a position to be singing yourself some Journey.

And eating Chinese food.

And putting all your faith in a fortune cookie.

A fortune cookie that reads: "You can count your friends on one hand."

I am as serious as Arnel Pineda. WORST. FORTUNE. COOKIE. EVER.

So here's to tomorrow- don't stop believin'!

See y'all!

Those Who Throw Stones...

2010-09-17T11:33:00.002-05:00

The other day I e-mailed Coach a picture of these shoes and simply said "I want."

I envisioned wearing them with this

And this

He's always saying I'm hard to shop for and that he never knows what to get me, and then he always tries to revert to his "go to" store for me: Dick's Sporting Goods- where he tries to buy me outdoor wear. And then he doesn't because part of his charming OCD is this- he will have buyer's remorse 100% of the time regardless of what he's purchasing.

Seriously, I've seen him get just as upset at buying apples as he does over buying cars or houses.

Okay, so back to the story. He'll try to buy me outdoor wear. But then he refrains. And then he takes me there to show me what he almost bought me. And then he asks me if I like it.

I say no. (Actually, I try to be a little more tactful- I say "not really")

And then he gets upset and launches back into his "You're so hard to shop for" diatribe.

HELLO

Have we met?

Anyway, so I figured I'd make it easy on him. Send him e-mails of things I like so whenever the need arises for him to shop for me- (Christmas) - he'll have ideas.

I'm just trying to be thoughtful, and I'm also trying to avoid getting hiking boots and trail mix.

So, I sent the e-mail and told him I wanted them.

His response?

"No offense. I don't like them."

That's a pretty bold statement from someone who has been running around in these the last few days...

See y'all!

Because I Said So

2010-09-15T08:10:00.002-05:00

Yesterday I was trying to entertain AC for an hour while also trying to finish some work. AC interprets my need to finish a task as an invitation to badger me silly about something she just has to have.

I swear she can smell stress. She waits patiently, and just as the blood pressure starts to rise, she goes in for the kill.

Her: "I need a pea coat. Remember you said I could have a pea coat?   Can we go today and get a pea coat while we're waiting on G? Morgan has a pea coat. I think you can get pea coats at Target for about $5." (She thinks everything is at Target and nothing costs more than $5.) "I want a pink pea coat. Or a purple one. Or do you think I should get a black one?"

Me: "AC, it's 95 degrees outside. You're not going to need a pea coat for at least another two months."

Her: "Well, you're the one that always says 'Better safe than sorry.' and 'Better early than late' and 'Better prepared than unprepared.'"

Me: ...speechless...awestruck

Her: "Right now I bet you're wishing you didn't say those things to me EVERY. SINGLE. DAY."

And I do say them to her EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. I also say "clean your room...no tv until homework is finished...ketchup is not a food group...butter is also not a food group...no corduroy until it's 60 degrees...yes it's still tacky to show your stomach in public...and on and on and on..."

And don't get me started on G. If I had a penny for every time I have to tell him to put his clothes up, take his shoes off, and use soap when he showers...well, let's just say I'd be writing this while sitting on a cruise ship somewhere in the Mediterranean.

I never thought they were actually listening to me or paying attention to the things I do for them.

Turns out, maybe they were - as evidenced by the pea coat conversation yesterday and this...

"Where I'm From" by G.

I am from shoes by the front door,
from old bibles and photo albums.
I am from pictures covering the wall,
and magazines on the coffee table.
I am from tall oak trees,
and my dogs who seem to bark at everything.
I am from chocolate chip cookies,
their scent lingering down the halls.

I am from, "Love your neighbor,"
and going to Sunday School.
I am from blackberry picking in July,
getting pricked by thorns and chewed on by mosquitoes.
I am from endless afternoons at the pool,
cold afternoons at the pumpkin patch,
and even colder ones at the Christmas tree farm.
I am from all-nighters at home,
and being grumpy the next morning.
I am from Christmas dinners with my family,
the people who make me who I am.

It's a poem G wrote in English last year. I found it when I was looking through his English folder. Huh. Who knew they were paying attention all this time?

(Note: As much as I wish I could tell you we party like rock stars as a family, we do not have "all-nighters"- he has insmonia occasionally, and having inherited my hypochondria, he doesn't let any of us forget it.)

See y'all!

G is 14

2010-09-13T19:39:00.003-05:00

Somebody has a birthday today. He was born on Friday the 13th- I never let him forget that.

Sometimes it feels like everyday is Friday the 13th. Oh, I kid. Well, actually I don't, sometimes it really does feel that way, especially when his head spins. My mom told me that when my brother and I turned 12 she swore our bodies were invaded by aliens. She said we didn't kick said aliens out until we were about 18.

I thought she was crazy. I remember my teenage years, and from what I remember, I was absolutely delightful.

I'm rethinking it now. I might be a convert to the alien theory.

He is certainly not the same child who promised me that he'd go to Vanderbilt and let me pick him up from classes in the afternoon when it was time to go to college. Now he's all obsessed with being a Marine Biologist and going to Pepperdine.

I'm not too worried- every kid has a Marine Biologist phase. And I'm pretty certain I had a Pepperdine phase, but I'm also pretty sure it was squelched by my dad, who said, "if you think I'm hocking everything I own so you can go to school on the beach you've got another thing coming." I also had a California Berkeley phase, of which my mother said "If you think any daughter of mine is going to a school where they live in trees and refuse to shave, you've got another thing coming."

Apparently I had a few things coming.

YOU. HAVE. NO. IDEA.

Actually, they didn't really say that, although I can tell you with 100% certainty that is exactly what they both were thinking.

What they did say was this: "You know if you go to school in California you can't come home if you're sick."

That was the deal breaker. I used to be a bit of a hypochondriac. One good case of strep and I was certain it meant imminent death. And don't even get me started on what happened if I contracted the throw-ups. Let's just say it was a state of national emergency.

And so, I happily went 3 hours from home to Glory Land, staying just close enough to convalesce at home if the need arose.

Now, 14 years later, it does seem that I have passed my hypochondria on to G. He came home yesterday and showed me "a lump" on his head behind his ear. I told him I would call the doctor today and make an appointment to have it looked at.

He immediately went to the computer and searched WebMD and self-diagnosed a brain tumor. And then he didn't sleep.

Stinkin' internet.

So, as promised, I called the doctor this afternoon and they had us come right in. Keep in mind, it is his birthday. (And NO, there is NO brain tumor)

He was clearly rattled because a) there was an unexpected change in his daily schedule, and b) the doctor said come on in... obviously, another sign of impending doom.

I was trying to talk to him, you know, ask him about his day, how he did on tests, did they sing happy birthday (which, it turns out, is not at all cool when you're in 8th grade), and on and on.

But he just shook his head and said, "Do you know how mad I'm going to be if they tell me I have a brain tumor on my birthday?"

And I just said, "Dude, I totally understand."

See y'all!

(And yes, he's fine- just a wandering lymph node- totally normal.)

Drivin' & Cryin' or Sunday Supper

2010-09-12T18:51:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm spent. Coach and I took the dogs to their favorite park today so they could swim and run with wild abandon.

As soon as I open the tailgate of the truck Mack gets so excited he literally cannot contain himself. Every single time we take them, his excitement reaches levels that are not socially appropriate, and he, well, let's just say he puts the moves on Ivy. And he doesn't quit.

He has no shame. He continues "giving her the business" all the way to the park. Which is awesome, since we have to drive in traffic and all. But what's worse is that when we get close enough to the park he starts to yip and cry and whine. And yes, all the while he is still giving Ivy the business. In traffic. Today it was Sunday church traffic.

Coach and I have tried to get him to stop. He can't. So, we just put on our sunglasses, look straight ahead, and pretend we have no idea what's going on in the bed of the truck.

It doesn't speak well to our parenting skills. My dad is going to recommend Cesar Milan's Dog Whisperer show again. My parents watch it religiously though they have no pets. Their philosophy on pets- "The pets that are the easiest to care for are pets you don't own." So they don't. Own pets, that is.

Anyway, enough about that.

Sunday Supper has sort of slipped to the wayside. (How's that for alliteration?) It's because no one has been home for supper on Sunday except for me, and I really don't think I can justify an entire Sunday Supper post to the art of popping a bag of low-fat popcorn perfectly. But, I did manage to pop a bag tonight with only 3 unpopped kernels.

So there.

Sunday Supper during football season consists of a bag of popcorn and a Diet Coke. There may be an Oreo involved. Or two. Or an entire row. We'll see.

But, tomorrow is G's birthday. He is 14. More on that later. So he's turning 14, and I'm baking a cake. While I was baking a cake, I figured I might as well make some pumpkin bread, because it is a gorgeous fall day here, and pumpkin bread makes my house smell like fall.

And as long as I was making cakes and bread, I figured I could share the recipes with you.

So, here you go.

Pumpkin Bread

3 1/2 cups flour
3 cups sugar
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon nutmeg
2 teaspoons cinnamon
2 teaspoons allspice
1 cup apple sauce
1 16-oz. can pumpkin
2/3 cup water
4 eggs

Optional:
1 cup raisins or 1/2 cup of pecans or both if you're crazy that way. My family takes the purist approach- nothing but pumpkin goodness.

Mix all the ingredients together. Pour into two greased loaf pans and bake for 1 hour in a 350 degree oven.

Strawberry Cake

1 box white cake mix
1 (3 oz) box strawberry-flavored gelatin (NOT sugar free)
1 (15 oz) package of frozen strawberries in syrup, thawed
4 large eggs
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/4 cup water
Strawberry Cream Cheese Frosting

Preheat oven to 350. Grease two 9 inch round cake pans. Combine cake mix and gelatin. Add strawberries, eggs, oil, and water. Beat at medium speed until smooth. Pour into prepared pans and bake for 20-25 minutes. (Until a wooden pick comes out clean)

Strawberry Cream Cheese Frosting

1/4 cup butter, softened
1 8 oz. package of cream cheese, softened
1 pint of fresh strawberries chopped and sugared
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
7 cups powdered sugar

Beat butter and cream cheese at medium speed until creamy. Beat in strawberries and vanilla. Gradually add powdered sugar, beating until smooth.

See y'all!

Do You Want to Play a Game?

2010-09-10T23:21:00.000-05:00

Remember the movie War Games? Where a kid with a Radio Shack computer hacks into the government's infrastructure and starts a nuclear war? Or Weird Science? Or Space Camp?

They have absolutely nothing to do with what I'm about to say, but the post title made me think about War Games, which led me on a walk down Amnesia Way getting all nostalgic about bad 80's computer movies.

So, let's play a game.

I am going to list the things I purchased at the grocery store this evening before I came home to a gloriously empty house to enjoy a quiet evening.

You read the list and see if you can tell what kind of week I've had. (It should be noted that the purpose of the trip was to buy milk and birthday cards for my niece and G. Pay close attention to what doesn't make the list.)

Ready?

Okay. (With a head bob and some cheer fingers.)

Seriously. Ready?

The List:
InTouch Magazine
Us Weekly
Crisco butter flavored shortening sticks
Ghiradelli 60% Cocoa morsels
PF Chang's Frozen Beef & Broccoli
1 box of Frosted Flakes
1 box of Sugar Smacks
and
1 large bag of Kraft caramels

Personally, I think the shortening sticks and the Kraft caramels tell the entire story, but whatever.

See y'all.

Cure for the Seven Year Itch

2010-09-06T21:18:00.003-05:00

Coach and I were teaching 7th grade together at my alma mater when we started dating exactly 7 years ago today. My Catholic friends tell me that we both get to skip over Purgatory and head straight on into Heaven because of our middle school service. We'll see.

Anyway, every year the 7th grade team took the kids on a little cliff jumping adventure. The purpose was to get them out of their comfort zone so they would make new friends since they were coming from several different schools.

Genius isn't it? Nothing encourages camaraderie faster than life-threatening wilderness situations. So just like we had done many times before, six teachers loaded 100+ 7th graders on buses, and off we went to risk life and limb all in the name of love.

Of the six teachers that actually made the hike to the cliff, I was the oldest. I was 32. Inspires a lot of confidence doesn't it?

And I have to tell you that the conversation the six of us had in the SUV (like we were going to ride on the bus with them!) centered around overprotective parents, and what a wonderful thing we were doing with these kids, and how we didn't want kids to be afraid to get outside and try things, and blah, blah, blah.

It's easy to say when said kids are not your kids.

In 2003 I decided I was jumping off the cliff if it killed me. Apparently, I did not have a lot to live for at the time. It wasn't a good year.

AND, truth be told, we had also had another conversation in the car about people who were high maintenance. Coach started it. We weren't dating yet. YET.

There were two men in the car and four women. Coach and the other man went on about women who were whiny and girly about things. Let's just say that of the four women in the car that day, I was the least low-maintenance. I know. Hard to picture.

So, I hiked across rapidly moving water, over boulders that were 6 feet tall, through a stretch of fauna that I affectionately call the "Venomous Vault" because of the likelihood of reptiles lacking shoulders, and finally up the side of a cliff.

Oh yeah, and the whole time I was guarding those kids lives like it was my job (because it actually was- which absolutely stuns me every time I think about it). And I was smiling. I attribute it all to Pre-Traumatic Stress Syndrome.

Coach's job every year was to be the first one to jump off the cliff to make sure the water was deep enough. I've always wondered what would happen if it wasn't. Thankfully, depth has not ever been an issue, and Coach still walks upright.

So, after climbing a cliff that I have to believe rivals Everest, I walked across some rocks to another cliff from which I was about to launch myself. I knew if I stopped I would never jump. I over think things. Again, I know. Hard to believe.

As I approached the edge where Coach and another colleague were standing to monitor the kids, I broke into a very slow jog and ran right off the side. Both men were speechless.

If you know Coach, that in itself is quite a feat.

And that's how I landed Coach. Since then he's made me kayak through the Belizean jungle, ride a bicycle through an alligator infested swamp IN THE DARK, and tube down the river wild with only a Land's End bathing suit between my rear and the craggy rocks. It didn't end well. Matter of fact, it ended with 13 stitches and a very bruised ego. That was exactly a year ago.

This year, we took the kids to the scene of the first water adventure. Did I say it was a lot easier to hike kids in and encourage them to jump off a cliff when they aren't your kids?

It is.

But I did it. Because after 7 years of riding the crazy river of life with Coach and what would eventually be our funny family, I am more convinced than ever that facing fears and jumping into them are valuable lessons. Those experiences do bring you closer, and I have memories from those years with BA kids at Blue Hole that are priceless (and only two involve stitches).

And if you think I'm exaggerating, take a look below.

AC stood on the very edge of a 30-45 foot cliff (depends on who you ask) and talked to total strangers. She also scaled rocks and cliffs like a mountain goat, and gave me real-time trail difficulty updates...in Spanish.

Coach is trying to coax her to jump. At this point I am still not sure she should jump. She's the baby. Babies don't jump. They stay with you forever. They weren't created for all the jumping and adventure. Then I remember what her room looks like on a regular basis. I begin to rethink.

And I think, "It can't be all bad. She'll probably be fine." Because I don't want her to leave and wish she had jumped. And I knew she would. I've seen it a dozen times before with 7th graders.

Generally it doesn't take much to get her to try something new.

Specifically, it takes frozen yogurt with brownie bits on top.

But G, on the other hand, never hesitated. He jumped...

and jumped...

and jumped.

and here is a gratuitous shot of Coach's muscles. He'll be embarrassed.

And if you're wondering if I jumped yesterday. The answer is no. The last time I jumped I burst an ear drum. I think an ear drum and a butt cheek are sacrifice enough. I took the year off.

So, to all my fellow Blue Hole alums- I thought about you yesterday.

Johnson and Catherine- I prayed specifically for you two- I hope the healing is quick- I know you're surrounded by all your BA friends- they've kept me updated this week.

They are the reasons I know we accomplished what was intended at Blue Hole. You learned to love each other well.

And finally, to all the parents of Blue Hole alums- thanks for letting us throw your children off a cliff. We watched them every second!

See y'all!

There Are No Words

2010-09-02T20:44:00.000-05:00

Today we went to G's cross country meet. It was 95 degrees, humid, and dusty. It was no place for a fashion statement, and yet...

Take a closer look...

There are no words.

Well, there may be one word...

No.

See y'all!

Me and Kenny C.

2010-08-30T11:45:00.002-05:00

Technically I guess we should call this post "Coach and Kenny C." I'll not dwell long on the fact that I am still lamenting my missed opportunity to meet my weight doppelganger.

I'll be over it momentarily.

Okay, not momentarily, but I'll repress it deep inside and let it fester for a while, and when the time is right I will remind Coach again about the benefits of communication. I'm sweet that way.

I have to say I was taken aback by the comments and Facebook posts that were more concerned with how and why Kenny Chesney and Coach were hanging out, than my Kenny Chesney jilting.

I'll just say this- if you'd like to have Coach's e-mail so that you too can send him gentle, yet stern reminders about the benefits of communicating- especially when Kenny Chesney is involved, well I'll be happy to give it to you.

Anyway, Kenny Chesney has released a new song. It's called "The Boys of Fall." You can watch the video here. (And I highly recommend that you do if you like football or the South) It has moved me deep in my soul. Turns out that KC's songwriter has a boy at our school, a boy who is also a quarterback. I love quarterbacks, and runningbacks, and linebackers, and football pants, and tight ends.

Long story short- our football boys are in the video. KC was so excited after seeing all the football footage from various high school games that he went on to make a full-length documentary which aired on ESPN yesterday. It is also titled The Boys of Fall.

Tuesday evening, unbeknownst to anyone, KC came to school to give the boys a private viewing. It was all very secretive and country-cool.

Well, until the cheerleaders and the girls volleyball team caught wind of what was happening. Then it apparently turned into a whirling dervish of hair bows, lip gloss, and squealing.

So, Coach ended up standing by KC watching a video and not calling his wife. But we've been over that. Except for the part where I started calling his phone frantically because I was sure he was dead in a ditch. I was about to call the ER when I received a text from him that simply said, "Will call in a minute. Watching a movie with Kenny Chesney in the small gym."

Well, of course he was.

At that point I wasn't sure if he meant he was watching a video that contained Kenny Chesney, or if he was literally watching a movie with Kenny Chesney. I reasoned it was the former. I was wrong. Typical.

It was all very uneventful for Coach as he is not impressed with country music superstars, but the kids enjoyed it. That's the important thing, right?

No. No it's not, but after today I'm going to let it ride.

Then a former student and current track athlete that I've taught/coached for 3 years did me proud. He knows about my KC thing. He was at the viewing. He said he kept looking back at Coach wondering when I would show up, wondering if Coach had thought to call me (which we've already covered, but in case you forgot, HE DID NOT) and generally working himself into a tizzy because he knew I'd be heartsick if I missed KC.

Well, we all know how that story ends don't we?

But, that sweet boy came in the next day, and we had a conversation that went like this:

Him: "How mad were you last night that Coach didn't call you about Kenny Chesney?"

Me: "How did you know he didn't call me?"

Him: "Because you weren't there. If he had called you, you would have been there. Duh."

Me: "I know. I KNOW. He didn't call. We discussed it when he got home. He said he didn't think I liked Kenny Chesney that much."

Him: "It's like Coach doesn't know you at all."

Me; "I know. I KNOW."

All I have to say is this: you can bet your right arm that if I am ever in the presence of Elizabeth Shue, someone will probably not get a phone call. I might even get a picture with her and trade childbirth stories, but I will not call Coach- he loves her so.

The mere mention of Karate Kid and his eyes glaze over and he turns into a sappy mess and waxes on about the siren that is Elizabeth Shue.

Whatever.

I'm just saying. I won't call.

But he'll be fine with that because he ran into her in a California Pizza Restaurant in LA a couple of years back.

Punk.

See y'all.

Here's a List

2010-08-24T20:53:00.003-05:00

My mother is going to call me when she reads this and tell me to go to bed because it is more than obvious that I haven't had enough sleep.

If I were a cursing person I'd say "No, sh*&."

But I'm not, so I won't. But, DUUUUUUUUUUH.

Let's just say I'm aggravated and call it a day.

Or, I could count some of the things that aggravate me, and then call it a day:

1. Tablecloths that still have fold creases in them.

2. Undergarment elastic issues

3. Answering the same question 45 times

4. Flies

5. Whining

6. 4th Grade Math

7. Mood ring inaccuracies

8. Professional athletes who can't conjugate a verb

9. Hockey

10. When a certain someone is late and misses dinner

11. When a certain someone is late, misses dinner, and doesn't call

12. When a certain someone is late, misses dinner, doesn't call, and then informs you that he spent his evening with...KENNY CHESNEY...in the flesh...and he STILL doesn't think to call.

(Yes, I'm talking about the Kenny Chesney that weighs 132 pounds- my scary weight- the Kenny Chesney that motivated me to eat twigs and berries while running until I fractured myself, the Kenny Chesney I have listened to ad nauseum on my iPod to remind myself that I CANNOT outweigh Kenny Chesney, the Kenny Chesney that I have been dying to meet- yes I do mean that Kenny Chesney.)

It's like he doesn't even know me. (Coach, not Kenny Chesney, because I'm pretty confident that Kenny Chesney would have called to say he'd be late for dinner, but I'll never know now.)

See y'all.

Studio 54 a.k.a. The Locker

2010-08-18T13:59:00.001-05:00

The youngest was issued a locker for the first time.

Pause for the awe and wonder- we've had to several times.

All summer she's talked about her locker. Decorating her locker, choosing her locker neighbors, wondering if they would still be the same color (the lockers, not her friends), wondering if she should get close to the bathroom or far away, should we buy a new peacoat so we know it will fit in the locker, and should we get a navy peacoat or hot pink- because it's hard to decide which one will complement the locker color.

That was May.

As the summer progressed she collected stickers, scrapbook paper, and magnets so she could decorate the locker.

In July I became the best mother ever when I bought her a locker shelf and a magnetic mirror that, get this... MATCHED HER BINDER. And I might have also color coordinated her pencils and butterfly erasers. I've never been more proud and ashamed of myself at the same time in my entire life. But, I'm a firm believer that cheerful school supplies make for cheerful students. We'll see.

But AC was glowing, and she spent hours in her room gazing at her pink mirror and locker shelf, and admiring her collection of stickers and paper. She and her locker were going to have a great year.

Then August came. She went to registration. There were mothers hanging curtains in their daughters' lockers, and framed pictures, and DISCO BALLS.

Yes I did say disco balls. Disco balls that turn on and spin nonetheless.

So AC had to have a disco ball. She didn't ask me; I'm sure she thought my head would explode, and I am most certain that she didn't want to hear about how things were in the olden days when lockers were brown and you slapped up a Tiger Beat poster of Ralph Macchio, drew a couple of hearts with glitter nail polish, and wrote all your BFF's names in puffy paint pen and called it a day.

There were no curtains, or shelves, or disco balls.

Ahhh the good old days...

So AC called Neme. Neme hunted for a disco ball to no avail. So she ordered one on the internet. My dad called me Monday to tell me the disco ball had arrived.

He's 61. I'm almost 40. It was a very strange conversation. Neither of us had a clue about the disco ball. Disco balls are above our threshhold of understanding.

But wait, there's more.

Sunday I saw an old friend at a wedding shower. Her daughter also got her first locker this year. She doesn't have a disco ball. But, she has requested her locker be carpeted.

Apparently the fad at her school is to take a bath mat, cut it down to size, and put it in the bottom of the locker.

Well Amber drew the line. She said no way to the locker carpet installation. But I know Amber's momma- she's like my momma- I bet when that sweet granddaughter asks for locker carpet she'll get locker carpet. My mom says that 's what grandparents are for.

A topic for another day.

Anyway, I was telling Coach all of this because I was both befuddled and intrigued by the locker carpet idea, and guess who heard me ?

Oh sure.

AC heard it and immediately started dreaming of locker carpet with ric-rac and jewels and ribbons and, well, you get the picture. She said it would be a good birthday present. Her birthday is Saturday. I'm thinking that 1/6 of a KMart bath mat might not be such a bad birthday present idea.

Then she asked Coach if there was a dustbuster small enough to fit in her locker.

And he thinks she doesn't appreciate him.

See y'all!

A Twit

2010-08-16T16:33:00.004-05:00

I'm currently in one. (A twit, that is.)

If you don't know what that is, you need to come down South, but I'll tell you this - it isn't pretty.

Let's just say that a group of 18-year-olds and the 4-week "Who's on First" routine we've been playing with the air-conditioning repair man have caused my last two nerves to rub together in an entirely unpleasant manner.

ENTIRELY. UNPLEASANT.

So I'll share some random musings from the last couple of days

1. Why did God ever give children the ability to sigh? Or roll their eyes? It seems that those are dangerous talents for a child to practice. I can see where they could very possibly be fatal.

2. G has grown so much in the last year that he owns more khaki pants than The Gap. He's also gotten really skinny, and subsequently he's lost his rear-end.  Now he looks like a frog who stood up and put pants on.

That is all I can say about him as he has given me strict instructions never to speak of him publicly again. Except to announce that I may call him Kermit for a while.

3. As I type, AC is working on homework with her iPod in her ears. She's singing "Eye of the Tiger." And she's not doing it well. She has many gifts; carrying a tune is not one of them.

Oh, and yes I am a teacher, and I am vehemently opposed to music while they do their homework. But talking is one of her gifts, and she hones it incessantly, loudly, and with great passion. ALL THE TIME. I needed some silence. Thus the iPod and so she's singing...badly.

My word for the day?

Counterintuitive.

4. The "Top Headlines" for today: "Spokesman: Politics wasn't a factor in Obama's remarks about building a mosque near Ground Zero,"  "Man, 78, Rides Roller Coaster 90 Times in Day," and "Mel Gibson Crashes Maserati: Gibson loses control of his expensive Italian sports car and crashes it into a hillside."

Please allow me to comment:

a. Mr. Obama, it was political; I don't know much about you, but I know this- everything is political. It was also emotional, spiritual, and insensitive- and we know you are aware of that. We'd like you to stop.

b. What's even more fascinating than a 78 year old man spending hours on a roller coaster is this- there is a group called "National Coasters Association" and they publish a journal...with articles...about roller coasters. Huh.

c. Hey Mel, there's a movie you should watch...I think it's called The Passion. You should check it out, there may be something there for you. Seems like you're struggling a bit. I'm just saying...

5. I'm thinking about renaming Ivy (one of our dogs) Diana the Huntress. Wednesday she caught a snake and a possum. She didn't want to let the possum go.  Instead, she preferred to carry it around like a baby;  a "cumongous" baby (as my nephew H. would say). She did finally release it so that it could go on its merry way.

Consequently, it was a thankful possum...until last night when Ivy caught her again, and this time all the babies tried to crawl out of her pouch.  Then they saw Ivy, and they quickly tucked tail and ran back into the womb.

6. And y'all, I dropped to my knees right then and thanked God audibly because while he did give children the ability to roll their eyes and sigh, He did NOT give them ability to tuck tail and climb back in the mother ship.

That might have put me over the edge.

See y'all!

Stranger Danger

2010-08-10T20:36:00.000-05:00

Perhaps I've mentioned it before. We joined Weight Watchers on February 1st. Coach has lost almost 60 pounds. He looks like a teenager. It has also provided him a way to channel his OCD since Dusty died.

I did get him a new Dustbuster - actually I bought him a Shark. It's kermit green and manly sounding. I call him Pac-Man (the dustbuster, not Coach. I just call him Coach, or Babe, or his name- but not Pac-Man).

Coach doesn't love Pac-Man like he loved Dusty. Dusty was his first love. You know how those can linger.

And speaking of Coach's first loves, we ran into his first love on Sunday. His real first love, not his first appliance love. I call her Minnie Mouse (his high school sweetheart, not his first appliance.) She has big calves.

She also had big hair, played softball, and wore a prom dress with puffed sleeves.

Epic FAIL.

Coach blames the 90's. I told him you can't hold the 90's responsible for softball. Big hair and puffed sleeves perhaps, but definitely not softball.

Anyway, it was pretty uneventful. As a matter of fact, I was so preoccupied with getting all of the kids set up with headphones (we were at a World Vision HIV/AIDS exhibit) that I didn't even know what was happening. He started talking to what I thought was just one of the volunteers when I heard him say "That's my wife, Traci." I waved and said "Hey" and went on about getting the kids settled.,

That was the big meeting of the ex. No Garth Brooks songs in the background. No awkward pauses where she looks at me and is so stricken with my radiance that she immediately longs for her senior year, an old Volvo, and a mix tape playing Richard Marx. Just a "Hey" and a smile.

And frankly, that was fine with me. We took the girls to Atlanta this weekend for an American Girl Doll weekend. Sunday we drove home, picked up G, and headed on to the exhibit.

I was...ummmm...I'd say, not as fresh and fabulous looking as I'd liked. As a matter of fact, the word "dust mop" comes to mind when I try to describe my appearance.

That being said, Coach was more than rattled. He assumed we'd reached def con 5. I've never seen him look more terrified in all my life.

And, may I remind you that approximately three weeks ago we were awakened in the middle of the night by a mouse diving into my purse. A rodent boldly making himself at home in my handbag didn't rattle him one bit, but a five minute exchange with an old girlfriend who had big hair and an unhealthy love of sports requiring unfortunate leg wear just about did him in.

"What on earth is wrong with you?" I asked him when we turned the corner and entered into the exhibit.

"Did you see who that was?" he said. And y'all, I swear he was hyperventilating.

"No, who was it?"

"It was MINNIE MOUSE!" he whisper-yelled.

"NO" I said.

"Oh yes." he said.

I immediately sucked in my stomach and hoped I had some lipstick.

And then V said, "THAT was Minnie Mouse? Oh, Traci you're way prettier than her."

To which AC replied, "Yeah Mom, even the way you look now, you're still prettier than her." (AC- the real confidence booster of the family)

And G added, "She looked like she needed a sandwich- she was too skinny. But, you're right Mom, she had big calves."

And speaking of sandwiches, the whole point of this post was to tell you about my big weight loss and subsequent hissy fit at Weight Watchers last week.

I may have meandered off topic.

Maybe we'll get around to the Weight Watchers story tomorrow. Maybe we'll just keep kidding Coach about his ex-girlfriend.

Or maybe we'll just be thankful that Coach doesn't have his own blog where he could make fun of all my exes.

Because I graduated in the 80's. There's only so much you can blame on the 80's.

That being said, I'll leave you with two images:

Mullet and Tight-rolled jeans.

Enough said.

See y'all!

And He Says I'm Weird

2010-08-03T19:56:00.001-05:00

I'm not allowed to watch The View.

Seriously. Coach has banned it. I cannot even begin to tell you how many perfectly good days that show has ruined for me.

Coach would say 87 to be exact.

Anyway- I think most of us know who was on The View last Thursday.

His name rhymes with Nobama.

I couldn't resist.

Obama, Elizabeth Hasselbeck, and Joy Behar = television genius (or the first sign of the Apocalypse- it's hard to tell).

So I was watching it.

Until I started talking at the television- and by talking I was giving it "the what-for" as my grandmother would say. And then Coach came in and ruined all the fun and put it on ESPN. He just shook his head and kept on walking to the kitchen.

I continued giving anything that would listen "the what-for."

To which he just laughed and said, "There's nobody like you."

And he's absolutely right; he should be glad for that.

Because I don't know many wives who would get up at 3:30 in the morning, put on flip-flops and a headlamp while wearing a t-shirt and underwear, and go outside to flip the breaker so the air would come back on.

Please don't go there- our AC/Heating unit is the albatross of our lives. It requires more maintenance than a toddler.

Anyway, I accidentally woke him up when I came back in the bedroom, because I still had the headlamp turned on so I could see. He asked what I was doing. I told him I reset the breaker. Then I turned off the headlamp.

And it became very dark. So dark I couldn't see the bed. So I stood there while waiting for my vision to adjust. Then he said, "Now what are you doing?"

"I can't see."

"No kidding. Because it's the middle of the night. Get in the bed and go to sleep."

He forgets I don't do sleep well- I'm afraid I might miss something. And it turns out, I was missing something- did you know Christie Brinkley has a new jewelry line sold exclusively on QVC? I sort of idolized her as a child, and now for $19.99 I can have one of her lucite daisy bracelets.

I tell you all that because he called me weird.

Whatever.

And speaking of whatever, he "whatever-ed" me in the car Saturday night.

I had drunk too much Diet Coke and needed to use the restroom. I told him that. He didn't hear me. A few minutes later I may have been a little overzealous about getting him to stop at a bookstore so I could go. We had a conversation.

He whatever-ed me.

I rolled my eyes and ran to the restroom.

But, he ended up winning this battle because while I was in the restroom he drank some of my Diet Coke- through my straw nonetheless.

Or so I thought. (It absolutely grosses me out when anyone eats or drinks after me- seriously, I'd rather eat a worm).

When I got back in the car and took a drink of said Diet Coke the straw was mashed flat. "I can't believe you drank my Diet Coke!"

"I didn't drink your Diet Coke."

"Yes you did, my straw is flat. I know you drank it."

"No", he said, "I just used the straw to get something out of my teeth."

And then I went home and washed my mouth with Comet.

The End.

See y'all!

They Say the Darndest Things

2010-07-31T22:23:00.000-05:00

I've been out of pocket for a bit. I've got two words for you:

Single. Parent.

Coach went to football camp, and I stayed home with G and AC. G is at the age which requires a full-time chauffeur, and AC took the opportunity to put me through some sort of sadistic parenting Boot Camp. Every day I would wake up bright and early, and she'd have a list of activities and tasks she wanted me to complete.

That list included everything from braiding her hair to painting her nails to opening a stationary/gift store for her to own. (And sadly, I'm not talking about the pretend kind.) She settled for a trip to the grocery store for dog food and milk, and seeing Ramona and Beezus. (Which, incidentally, is one of my favorite movies of the summer.)

Anyway, before my absence I do believe I told you about my run last week which ended with a sprained ankle. I'm almost over the trauma of it, and honestly, it didn't really slow me down much. I've done quite a bit of running since then. 20.6 miles to be exact. If you're a runner, that may not be much, but for someone who hasn't had a regular exercise program since the spring of 1992, I'm feeling pretty good about it.

But like I said, last week I sprained the ankle. Thankfully, AC was riding her bike along with me so that she could witness the whole thing and have a hissy fit.

But what's ironic about the entire episode is that just a minute or so before I fell she asked me how long a mile was.

I confidently said, "I have to run about 2500 steps to equal a mile." Turns out, that's not actually correct. I had to run approximately 5300 steps to cover a mile. Explains a lot. It also further illustrates my inability to do any sort of math.

But, she asked, and I gave her the wrong answer.

And then I fell.

And skidded down the street and into a culvert.

It rattled her a bit, she jumped off her bike and flailed her arms around while asking me if I was okay a couple of dozen times all the while looking up at the sky lest she see any sort of carnage.

Once I got up and told her I was fine, she just sort of shrugged her shoulders and said, "Well, at least all that sliding means you don't have to run all 2500 steps to get home."

Yeah, at least.

See y'all!

My, What Pretty Teeth You Have

2010-07-21T22:51:00.000-05:00

I've had one of those weeks. You know- those weeks you don't really want to talk about because it's really not any one big thing, rather an onslaught of minor annoyances that I am going to blame on the Twilight Saga.

Oh yes, you did read that correctly.

I have successfully avoided all things Twilight- no vampires, no wolves, no Team Jacob or Team Edward- none of it.

Until this weekend.

And incidentally, it's Team Jacob all the way. I can't help it. He has such pretty teeth...and abs. I'm a sucker for teeth and abs.

Coach went to the lake for a coaching retreat. I took the opportunity to head to Knoxville to visit a friend. We did girly things like shop and see movies and talk and eat cheese. It was heaven.
It was on Saturday night that she convinced me that my life would not be complete until I had seen the Twilight movies. And, it just so happened that she owned the first two. So, we stayed up until 3:00 am watching parts one and two.

I was hooked. And then I got up four hours later and drove the 180 miles home. And then I ran 6 miles. And then we went to a funeral.

Exhaustion I tell you. And Coach was exhausted too, and he had to get up at 5:00 for football workouts.

I know, it is a charmed life isn't it?

So we crashed.

At approximately 3:14 Monday morning the Momsense/Coach honeymoon ended. I was sleeping soundly until I heard a funny noise.

So I turned on the light just in time to see a mouse take a swan dive into my purse. Yes, I did say a MOUSE diving into my purse.

I might have screamed at that point.

Coach's head might have exploded, or maybe he just sat up clearly disoriented with bloodshot eyes.

I'm going to admit- I was hysterical. I was standing on the bed with a hammer begging Coach to get the mouse out of my purse and away from my Reese's Pieces.

He said, "Just go to sleep, it's just a mouse."

To which I replied, "Are you kidding me? There is a varmint in my purse! I have Reese's Pieces in there! We have to get him out of there and away from the Pieces!"

Him: "Did you really use the word varmint?"

Me: "Did you really tell me to just go back to sleep?"

I'll save you the rest of the conversation. Just imagine a very irritated and sleepy husband and a hysterical wife. Then imagine that the husband just rolled back over and went to sleep, the wife slept with the light on and a hammer in her hands, and a whole lot of huffing, puffing, muttering and grumbling.

That was Sunday.

Tuesday I went running again and promptly chafed my thighs whilst wearing some different running shorts. It's a third degree chafe.

Today I bought some compression shorts to retard the friction and flame throwing from betwixt my thighs, and went running again.

And so I ran.

Until I twisted my ankle on absolutely nothing, fell down, took the skin off my calf and hip, tore my new compression shorts, and took care of any shred of pride I had left.

So, that's where I've been. Sleep deprived, chafed, swollen, and oozing.

Oh, and a mouse just cuddled up with Coach on the couch.

I'm not kidding.

I must go. There's quite a bit of packing to do as I will be moving out as soon as possible.

See y'all!

Try This

2010-07-13T06:00:00.002-05:00

We're still trying to get in all 6 fruits and vegetables each day. On a difficulty level, it ranks right up there with Geometry, but we're making it.

Of course Coach is doing much better than I am; I have issues with fiber. I also have issues with Lebron James and Miley Cyrus, but who wants to hear about all that?

Anyway, lets talk roughage, shall we?

Since there are only so many ways to dress a salad or cook broccoli, I've been trolling for recipes. We had this one tonight. Coach and G gave it a 10. It is a must try, and again, so easy, cheap, and light.

Spicy Chicken Tacos
(Weight Watchers points 4 points for 1 taco with 2 oz. chicken and 1/2 oz. cheese and 1 tbsp. of sauce)

12 taco shells or tortillas (we used some high fiber, high protein tortillas)
6 boneless chicken breasts, pounded to about 1/2 inch thickness (about 3 pounds of chicken)
Caribbean seasoning
2 cups shredded cheese (we used Sargento light Mexican blend)
Sour cream sauce
Jalapeno Slaw

Sprinkle the chicken with the Caribbean seasoning and grill. Cut into thin slices. Add to taco shells/tortillas and top with slaw and sour cream sauce.

Sour Cream Sauce
1 cup sour cream (we used fat free)
1/2 teaspoon cumin
2 tablespoons lime juice

Mix together. Take a good long whiff and smile.

Jalapeno Slaw
1 10 oz. bag of coleslaw mix (try to get angel hair slaw if possible)
1 red bell pepper, thinly sliced
1/4 cup thinly sliced red onion
1/4 cup cilantro minced
2 jalapenos, seeded and thinly sliced (if you like heat leave some seeds- we like it hot)
3 tablespoons lime juice
1 1/2 teaspoon honey

In a medium bowl mix slaw, bell pepper, onion, jalapeno, and cilantro. Mix the honey and lime juice together, pour over slaw and mix.

I'm still finishing the bedroom.

Oh, and I started training for a half marathon. It's in 11 weeks. I'm sort of being forced. It will be good for me. I'll keep telling myself that.

It will be good for me.

See y'all!