Famous Last Words

It was all Moonpie's idea!




Moonpie, is the nickname I've given to our neighbor/best friend/leader of the good ideas. He earned his nickname by totally devouring a single giant moonpie in only 2 1/2 bites. No lie. The kid's got skills.




This is what happens when you don't have enough sidewalks in your town. Blatant shenanigans in the middle of the road.



As it turned out, Fox was WAY harder to pull.




"CAR!"



Yeah, not really. There weren't any cars driving that day.




When an idea is this good..... older brothers get involved.



One of these days, a girlfriend is gonna come along, and ruin all our fun.

Do you know what's in your heart?

Folks, I'm not talking about heart disease or anything like that. I'm wondering... do you know what's in your heart?

I do. I know and love Jesus. That's in my heart. If He's not in your heart, we can talk about that.

Let's get to some smaller ideas. Is home in your heart? Maybe. Lately, I haven't felt very much at home in my community or at my school or at my church. These are all just places, but always before, I held them in my heart. Really cherishing them. I always saw myself growing old here with the Bossman. The two of us wiping gin dust from the counter for the rest of our lives. Now, that's not necessarily what I see. I wonder where we might park our rocking chairs. I know that place will have flawed neighbors too. All places have their own flaws.

I'm ready to tell you a true story. I broke the law. I was given a ticket. I'm not above the law, not at all, and I've already paid my ticket. I wouldn't for one moment fault the officer for pulling me over. It's true, I was going 25 in a 20. I got the ticket I deserved.

What makes me feel, 'not at home', is that the officer didn't treat me like a neighbor. He is literally, in a physical sense, my neighbor. I guess it's too much for me to expect that I would be treated like a neighbor, because I broke the law.

The ladies in the office where I paid the ticket didn't treat me like a neighbor either. That sort of hurt my feelings. I guess if you speed, you're not a neighbor anymore?

I don't feel at home at my school right now either. There aren't a lot of specific examples of 'why', it's just a feeling I have. Maybe I'm being too sensitive. Maybe I expect too much. I promise, I'm not hormonal. I'm just sharing what's in my heart right now.

I certainly don't feel at home or part of a family at my church. There are many changes happening within our church's ministries and changes can be upsetting. It's hard to always remember that church people are just people, and people are flawed. I wonder how the apostles traveled around so much with Jesus, talking to all the church people without constantly being frustrated. They were just people. In the end, many betrayed Jesus.

I'm not saying I'm Jesus. Please don't read that in this post. I know I'm just a person, with my own list of flaws. In fact, some say it's a really long list. Now, that list includes 'lady who speeds.'

I guess some people will still consider me a neighbor, even with the speeding ticket. Some people will gossip about me. That's alright too. Some people will prove to me that they aren't now, and never really were my neighbor. That information is probably good for me to learn now.

I think that people at my school and church will also, over time, prove to me if I'm part of their family, or any sort of a neighbor. I think I'll also learn if I'm a good neighbor. Maybe, I'm not.

I know what's in my heart. I know home is in there. Just now, without the walls. Maybe that's the blessing I needed to learn.

and the Walmart saga continues.....

If you're wondering how to make your trip to the Walmart about ninety-eleven-billion times better, then all you need to add is a buggy with zero working tires and two children.

Seriously, I tried about three different buggies and none of them worked. I finally settled on the buggy I had my hand on when the jerk-dude behind me told me to just pick one. Nice. Thanks.

Fox asked no less than fifty times if I would buy him a strobe light. No. Fifty-one times no.

I don't know why he wants one, but we're in the business of avoiding seizures around here. That was the closing sentence to the monologue in the Walmart after the last no. Observers were impressed. At least, that's what I'm telling myself.

I just found out that you must have a minimum of one facial piercing to work the check out line at the Walmart. That's what I can only assume because all the checkers today had something sharp in their face.

And, Mav carried the eggs. The giant thirty-two count egg container. He carried it. Only because I am completely inept when it comes to stacking groceries into the buggy. At least, that's what he told me whilst he carried the eggs. Something about them being crushed, and him starving to death for an entire week. Observers were impressed.

There's got to be a better way to buy groceries.

Now we know.

We didn't know what we were missing. We'd never 'won' a Fair Fish.

'Those fish never last more than a week,' Amy promised. 'Sometimes, they don't even survive the car ride home!' Sarah swore. It's a win-win situation. We must allow the boys an opportunity to experience a Fair Fish.

And so, a plan was hatched.

It was decided that we would meet up with Sarah, Amy and Matt at the Fair. We'd eat some food, win a fair fish or two, and the experience would be complete. One more thing to check off the bucket list.

Approximately five minutes and $7 later, two spectacular gold fish were bagged up and in our hands. The first, a lovely gold girl with a white tail, was named Amy-fish. The second, more solid gold, but equally lovely, was named Sarah-fish.



Here's some things that we didn't consider:
1. Someone must hold the 'bag-o-fish' until it dies, or we get home.
2. What if the fish doesn't die?

I think we should take these topics one at a time. First, we all mainly took turns holding the bags-o-fish. We observed Amy-fish looking a little 'green around the gills' and Sarah-fish swimming happily. (Naturally, bets were placed on who would die first.) The sharing of the bag holding continued until it was time to load up and go home. At that time, I carefully placed both bags-o-fish in the passenger side of the air conditioned pick up truck while we loaded the trailer. The entire time, we all carefully tiptoed when near that door in hopes the fish bags would remain standing.

We believe Amy-fish enjoyed the air conditioning and the truck ride home, but she didn't survive very many hours out of the bag. Typical Fair fish experience complete.

Sarah-fish still lives! It's been almost three weeks, we all talk to her as we pass her bowl. She is happily swimming around a new habitat, and demands food frequently. Are we emotionally attached to a Fair Fish? Fox believes we have shattered the life expectancy of any Fair fish, ever, in as long as those records have been kept.

Every morning he proclaims, 'Sarah-fish still lives!'

Unusual Fair fish experience still underway. See blog stalkers? You just never know what you'll get. Isn't that lovely?

....Because I'm Wearing Red!

Today I'm wearing red.  I never wear red.  But, today I'm wearing red.  That is like total permission to free my actions from any inhibition because I'm wearing red.

Last week, I didn't wear red, because I never wear red.  I did wear black...but I wear black ALOT!  It's slimming....not that I need it.....

Last week, I attended the funeral of a lovely, generous, God-fearing, Christian woman--who I did not know (while I have NOT taken to spending my free time funeral-crashing--albeit, that's not an altogether inappropriate idea.  I am a wonderful consoler & encourager--it is true that I did not personally know this wonderful woman...she was the grandmother of a very dear friend.), but share a personal family-like connection.

In hindsight, I really should've worn red to this beautifully orchestrated affair.  As it turns out, my panty-girdle was a wee snug, my dress slightly clingy--probably because the wee snug panty-girdle caused a fury of static all up in the underside of my dress--and my new, platform-closed-toe stilettos were cutting off the circulation to this and that little piggy!  In other words, if you didn't look too closely, I looked HOT!


After sitting for almost 2 hours and hearing 6 eulogies of this marvelous woman (...and let me just say, probably, there won't even BE 6 people at my funeral--none of my teacher friends will be able to get subs--, much less 6 people who have such glowing memories and thoughts of me to share!), not only did I realize that I am totally screwed in the "doin' good deeds and earning my jewels in my crown" department, but I can no longer feel my toes and when I stand my dress will be statically suctioned to my @$$!!!!  From this point, I am no longer in control of, or responsible for, my conversation and behavior......from badly dressed to worse behaved!


With no blood circulating to my brain, I manage to make my way to the reception fairly close to the last of those to leave the sanctuary.  Somehow, though, I manage to be first in line at the refreshment tables....FIRST.  As in "before the family" FIRST!  No apologies were uttered by my numb lips, either!


Having a few calories in me, the blood begins to better circulate from my now puffy cankles--because that's just how my legs roll...after all, that's where all my height is...--and I feel slightly better and decide that conversation will do us all well.  *Please note, simply because my blood is circulating above my knee caps does NOT mean that oxygen has made it's way sufficiently to my brain.*


I find myself standing with a perfectly lovely couple--the "Stills" we'll call them--who I have known and respected for many years now.  They have been married for 35+ years and remind me of a nice combo of the Cleavers and the Cunninghams (God rest Mr. C's soul).  He's very kind, but very firm in his expectations and she's willingly supportive of him in all his expectations.  And this, y'all, is where the whole affair goes to hell in a handbag for me.....

Me:  OMG!  I hardly recognized you!  You've let your hair grow and it has gotten SO long!  I love it!


Mrs. Still:  Well, thank you.  Mr. Still likes it like this and asked me to grow it out, so I've just let it grow.  I figure I've worn it the way I wanted for 35 years, I could let it grow long and wear it the way he wants it for some years.


Me (giggling my un-oxygenated giggle):  GURL!  I'd tell Mr. Analytical "when you can GROW hair on your now bald head, YOU can tell me how YOU want for ME to wear MY hair!"  (.....un-oxygenated and anxious giggles continue.........)


Mrs. Still:  ....................*silence*.................*uncomfortable stares*.....................


Conversation concluded.....................I decided to take that opportunity to bid my farewells, shuck my stilettos, and exit the church....barefooted.....


I told y'all I shoulda worn red.

I'm just showing off.

This is me, just sharing my stuff again.

I'm addicted to something new..... fabric. Not just any fabric, but specifically the 'Deck the Halls' designer fabric in the new Stampin' UP! Catalog.

Check this out:



and, also this!




Get a closer look.



I've always loved to scrap, but this fabric coordinates perfectly with the paper and the card stock and the stamp sets, and it makes everything all lovely and easy. Super pretty with extra texture! and, NO SEWING!!

I'm just all clever with the sticky sheets and adhesive paper.

You're welcome.

Some Stuff

Sometimes, I make stuff.



I even like to make a lot of stuff for other people! I enjoy it! Makes me feel like I brightened some one's day.



Sometimes, the stuff is super simple. Sometimes, the stuff is moderately simple. Bottom line is.... I CAN make stuff.

PrissE and I write stuff for this blog. Funny stuff. Sometimes, super funny. Sometimes, only funny to us. Bottom line is... we CAN write some stuff.




Fortunately for me, I have surrounded myself with a community of friends that are super talented! Super funny! Super smart! And, not just with the simple stuff..... sometimes, really hard stuff.

This friend has some ideas that will blow your socks off!! Not hard stuff. Just great stuff for your daily life. She enjoys this stuff, and I love that about her. She brightens my day, and gives me ideas on how to make my life better.




I have another friend who is a young mother. She is inspiring to me. Recently, my sweet little Mav had some grade issues at school. In order to 'motivate' him to strive for excellence, the Bossman and I decided to limit his sweets intake. Mav's reply was short, but to the point. "You're trying to starve me to death!"

I had those words ringing in my ears when I read my friend's inspiring post about lunches. Who knew? I didn't even know what a bento box was!



I have this friend, who is certain that NO ONE reads her blog. She's my fearless Stampin' UP! leader! She's bossy, skinny and cute. Somehow, I've been able to look past those things and love her anyway! (smile) She reminds me daily that I'm the only One of Me there is. That's important. That's special. That's worthy. AND.... that's enough.



I'm really lucky, because I have a whole bunch of other friends (that don't have blogs) that inspire me to be a better person on a daily basis. The love me even when I come up short. They come to my classes even when they've already made that project and while they're there.... they love it just as much as the first time.

The moral of this story is simple. Share your stuff.

Week in Review: A list of oddities

1. I have received 23 text messages from my teenager in the past two days with zero words spelled correctly. I can read all of them.

2. I found out that 5th grade math is too hard for me.

3. One of my pre teens just informed me that his nostrils whisper to him and tell him to raise his arms up and wave them around during classes at school when he is bored.

4. My other pre teen has started greeting me by saying, 'Hey baby, how 'ya doin'?' Complete with nostril flare.

5. I tripped walking in flip flops. Twice.

6. It's cool enough now, that I've worn jeans two days in a row. Both of those days, my husband told me I had a 'nice ass'.

7. Three boys asked me to paint green/black RHS on their chests for the Friday night football game.



Not these three.

Teachers Matter

Late last night, just before bedtime, Mav brought me a stack of papers all clipped together and just sorta tossed them at me.... 'Here.... it's everything we did in Mrs. C's English class the whole first six weeks, Fox threw his away. We're done with them.'

I thought, OK, whatever... tucked the little boy in bed then flipped through the papers. First of all, Mrs. C writes funny little messages on the papers, that was entertaining! Then, I read one of the 'letter' assignments, and just knew I wanted to share it.

Teachers, just in case you ever wondered if you made a difference in a child's life, please, don't give up. You are important, and it does matter.

Dear Mrs. Coleman,

How are you? How is your school going? You haven't missed me, have you?

My school year is going really good, and I think that I am Mrs. C's favorite student. My favorite class is art because we get to draw. My second favorite class is band because it is fun to play the saxophone. Outside of school, my dad is taking me dove hunting a lot.

You need to talk to my mom on Facebook. Until I walk by your classroom, I guess I should say, 'bye'.

Let me just also tell you that Mav asks once a week if he can visit Mrs. Coleman. She's just one of the teachers in our lives that have made a difference.

Mrs. C gave a different assignment earlier in the six weeks. I'm not sure all the details, but she asked them to write something about a favorite teacher. Neither of them wrote about PrissE (who is a fabulous teacher!) I quizzed them later why they didn't choose PrissE?

They answered with great disgust, 'She never taught US!'




And with that, we know one of the things PrissE will never live down.... a promise to teach a set of twins, that didn't happen, and they will never forget!

** Yes, I know the photo is of three sixth graders, and that's NOT a set of twins, but you've been reading this blog long enough to know that two of them are the twins, and that other one is Mr. D. Plus, it's a cute picture of boys too big for a slide.

** Note to readers... Mrs. Coleman is a real person, real teacher, and all around real awesome person to know. I still love her even though Weight Watchers Points took all her fluff away! Her name has been left the same so that all of you will go up to her and give her a huge hug!

Life is short, wear striped panties.

SEVERAL months ago, PrissE and I were spending a lovely sun-filled day at the pool with our whole bunch of children, when one of PrissE's friends from her new school stopped by. We visited some, had the proper introductions (I can't remember her name now) and said goodbye.

As PrissE's new school friend left, I commented that as a grown woman, shouldn't that lady know that she was wearing striped panties underneath her very stylish white Bermuda shorts?

The two of us laughed.... only briefly, as we pondered how many people would see that friend all over town as she ran her errands. Otherwise, perfectly made up, and obviously ready for a fun-filled summer afternoon of activities.

It was a brief moment in our lives, but I remember it.

Yesterday, I knew it was laundry day because there was ONE lone pair of panties in my drawer. I was very thankful that one pair was left, and being proud of general good hygiene sense, I slipped that pair of panties on. I finished off my Saturday outfit with some turquoise capri pants, a cute red t shirt, and my new sneaks before dashing to the grocery store.

I went to Walgreens, Michael's, the gas station and the United Grocery store, before heading home with my carload of purchases. It was only as I was unloading the car that a child asked me if I always wore striped panties on Saturday.

I just paused briefly before replying,

'Not always.... today is a special Saturday.'