A Question, An Insight

To my friends out in Bloggerville. What scripture do you turn to when you are discouraged?

Any insights would be appreciated.

Too good not to share

I know I posted a whiny blog this morning about not getting any sleep last night, but I've got to share this experience with you. It's just too good to keep to myself. And I mean good as in too funny not to share.

Let's start at the day after Thanksgiving. Jason and I bought a Wii on that treacherous, take-your-life-into-your-own-hands-to-shop day with the expectation of putting it on ebay and making a ton of money for Christmas shopping. Well, we listed it Monday night and needless to say, it brought a grand total of $5.43 after ebay fees, shipping fees and paypal fees. Since Christmas seems to have snuck up on everyone, the treasure HAD to be mailed today to the lucky winner, so Abby and I trekked to the UPS store after lunch.

Let me say that the UPS store in and of itself is not an evil place. I'm sure that it has many wonderful qualities, and I am not one to judge based on appearances (ahem).

When we entered the store, the line was approximately 2.25 miles long, all men who had fifteen or more boxes to mail. (I exaggerate, but with a small child, it certainly seemed like that). Since you all know that Abby had NO SLEEP last night, she was not very happy to have to mail this wonderful gaming system to someone who didn't even have the decency to bid $302.00 and instead won it for $301.01. I'm not kidding, $301.01.

Anyway, the UPS people are very wise and have placed a small puzzle table right in the store. The chair Abby wanted to sit in was of course right in the middle of the line of a million people. I let her play, but when it came time to go to the counter, I had to take her with me because we all know that there are many strange and scary folk in Easley. I didn't want someone running off with my beautiful, sleep-deprived, snotty-nosed brat--uh, I mean darling.

When I picked Abby up to take her to the counter with me, she unleashed all the fury her 18 lbs could muster and twisted and screamed and yelled. People were casting "that look" at me as I wrangled with my daughter in the line. One man even tried to make funny faces at Abby, but she only yelled and screamed what I can only assume were baby profanities at him.

The one mother who had walked into the store behind me avoided my gaze, and I'm sure she was thinking, "I'm glad it's you and not me."

Thankfully God had placed an angel at the UPS store. One of the dear, grandmother-types working behind the counter came up and placed her hand on my shoulder and whispered an urgent, "Can she have a cookie?"

"Yes, she certainly can," I told her. I know that my daughter is her mother's because any mention of chocolate and sugar (especially in the same sentence) will quieten the wrath of Abby.

The angel ran to the back of the store and grabbed a cookie from somewhere. I didn't ask where and I really didn't care where to be quite honest. Those of you who are mothers understand. She handed Abby the cookie and I said, "Thank you, thank you, thank you. You are our favorite UPS lady ever." To which the mother behind me chuckled. I wasn't kidding.

"I've got 14 grandkids," the lady told me, "and I know how to shut them up."

This kind of comment might have normally turned me off, but "shut them up" was exactly what I needed at that moment.

When Abby and I finally made it out of the store she was covered in crumbs and chocolate goop, but I didn't care.

Remember what I said yesterday about Jehovah Jireh (God provides)? Sometimes it comes in the form of chocolate and sugar.

Merry Christmas!

Up all night - but not in a good way

I remember the first time I stayed up all night. I was in maybe the sixth grade and Laurel had a slumber party. Most of you probably remember the girl in your class who threw the awesome slumber parties, the ones where everyone ate until they were sick and played games all night and made crank calls. For me that was Laurel. It was simply an honor to be invited. Oh the simple joys of elementary school.

Anyway, I can still remember the hung-over feeling I had the next morning. Since I'm Southern Baptist and a good girl, not to mention the fact that I was 12, a true hangover was not something that I could understand, but I did know that I was kind of out of it.

There was a girl named Raven at this party, and I remember thinking to myself the next morning, "Raven, Raven, Raven, that's a strange-sounding name, Raven." You know what happens to a mind when it hasn't had any sleep.

I experienced much the same feeling when we brought Abby home, except this time I was full of joy to have her home, a feeling that lasted all of two nights. I'm not saying that I don't love Abby, but after six weeks of no sleep, the mind resembles something like mashed potatoes that have been overcooked.

Well, our sweet angel has a cold, a particularly nasty cold, and she was up ALL NIGHT last night. She cried off and on, and Jason and I took shifts as best we could, me one hour, him two, me one hour, him two. I'm a very caring and considerate wife and mother; he needs the quality time with his daughter.

Somewhere about 3 o'clock, Jason and I both realized that we were being played. Yes, Abby felt bad and yes, it was hard for her to breath, but it seems that when she heard our footsteps in the hall, she got strangely quiet as she waited for us to open the door and pick her up.

I think I passed out somewhere around 4 when Jason went into the room to have a very serious conversation with our 17 month old about not playing her parents. He left this morning before I had a chance to ask him how it went.

All that to say, I've been up all night, and it was definitely not in the good, middle-school-slumber-party kind of way.

Oh man! I'm sure most of you probably think that I fell off the face of the planet somewhere, but the truth is that this holiday season has taken me completely off guard. You may remember a few months ago when I posted about wishing my house looked fantastic; well, apparently I've been bitten by some kind of poisonous bug because I've been running around like a mad woman trying to put the house in order -- not that you can tell that I've really done much of anything, but I have tried.

The thing is, there are so many things happening all at once.

Several months ago my dad announced to me and Jason that Jason had to find a new job. The money was there until the end of the year, but after that, who knew. You see, the "economic slowdown" (a phrase I hate because it understates the seriousness of the problems we are facing) has taken a huge toll on Daddy's business. They haven't had a good, solid job for several months.

We've learned a lot the past few months about Jehovah Jireh (God provides) because He has provided so miraculously for our family. Jason now has a job at Wachovia. He'll start in January as a roving teller, but thanks be to God, the pay is more than we thought it would be (not great but livable) and it is a job that allows for growth and progress.

I'm now out for Christmas break, and I'm so thankful to have this time with Abby. She growing and changing more than I have space to write. I'll post pictures as soon as I have a moment.

I'm reading Twilight and am on Breaking Dawn. Anyone out there have any comments?

Well, it seems that this post has turned more into a Christmas letter, so I'll wrap it up (no pun intended). Seriously, I'll go now before anymore damage is done.

Oh, oh, oh, let me take a moment to congratulate my beautiful friend, Meredith! She's having a baby, and I am so excited for her that I don't even have words. You're in my prayers, friend!

Okay, I'm off to do something productive...really I am...

On the road to recovery

I've got to give you a followup to the previous blog. It seems that we are on the road to recovery with Abby's bottom. It seems odd to even be posting something about my daughter's tush, but you know how life is...unpredictable at best.

It seems the trick was Lotramin (thank you to all who suggested it).

This has brought a new train of thought to my mind. How can children, who earn no money, be so dadgum expensive. Do you know that a small tube of Lotramin costs in the neighborhood of $11.00. Incredible.

My mom was very funny when I mentioned using Lotramin. At first she didn't have much to say about it, but when she saw the tube she exclaimed, "That's what your daddy uses for his athlete's foot!"

It cracked me up. I wonder if she was listening at all when I was talking about yeast and all that.

Anyway, I do so appreciate the advice. When we have another crisis, I now know where to turn.

Help!!

This is a post for all of you mommies out there.

Abby has TERRIBLE diaper rash. I'm certain it is a result of teething (and maybe too many raisins) but the fact is that when we say, "Abby, let's change your diaper" she goes into hysterics and flips and turns so much that it takes two of us to hold her down and get her changed.

So my question is if any of you out there have any suggestions about cures for diaper rash.

Please keep in mind that we're totally and utterly desperate.

Does It Make Me Weird

I know most of you are thinking to yourselves, "Yes, of course you're weird, Alicia," but that isn't exactly what I'm getting at here.

I've been wondering lately if there is something wrong with getting very irritated when you see grammatical errors in places where they shouldn't be.

There was a day in the not so distant past where I wouldn't have recognized a grammar error if it had the words GRAMMAR ERROR written beside it. Those days are gone, however, as I now teach innocent freshmen the importance of egregious grammar errors and as I encourage them to repent of their misuse of the comma and their flippant placement of the semicolon.

I heard a story about a group of young men who stuffed their backpacks with permanent markers, white-out, and erasers and headed cross-country fixing all the errors they encountered. It seems that with every passing day I find myself longing to do the same thing.

Is it problematic that when I am singing during worship I find myself mentally ticking off the spelling and punctuation errors on the screen in front of me? Does it matter that when the words every day are put together as everyday my blood pressure rises?

I ask you, when is passion for the English language gone too far?

If you can help, please respond, and if you find grammar errors in this piece, please remember that I am sick today, and I may not have proofread the text.

Thanks for listening.

I never thought

I LOVE television. I always have. As a matter of fact, I still remember coming home from 4 year old kindergarten and watching The Price is Right hosted by Bob Barker. "Help control the pet populations. Have your pets spayed or neutered," he would always say. See, I'm a television freak.

As I got older, I would base my days around what came on television at what time. I knew when The Beverly Hillbillies came on, and I knew that on Thursday night at 8:00 we would gather around the tv to watch The Cosby Show.

Today my tastes have matured. Now I love to watch Top Chef and Project Runway. That Tom Colicchio, Heidi Klum and Tim Gunn just crack me up. What can I say, Bravo is my favorite channel of all times.

All that being said, Jason and I are trying to cut back. We've realized the importance of living on a budget, and we know that God blesses when we are faithful.

We've already cut out XM Radio, Netflix, our home telephone (we couldn't part with high speed internet), and now....SATELLITE.

This afternoon Jason made a nifty antenna for our television in the living room. I was ahhhmazed at the channels we got. I'm thinking as long as we get channel 40, 62, 4 and 7 I'll be okay.

So, dear readers, if you don't hear from me for a while, check in. I may have died from television deprivation.

Disc Golfing

Jason has recently discovered the wonderful world of disc golfing.

Now, I realize that the majority of my readers will have NO CLUE what disc golfing is. I never knew that throwing a frisbee was an actual sport in which people kept score and had tournaments and such, but apparently it is a growing trend.

For about two months Jason and a group of guys from church have been going to a park in Easley to play. My husband is addicted.

This morning he went to Greenville to watch a tournament. Now, I have to give him his props because this is a sport that is free (except for the discs, bags, sunscreen, hats, shall I go on). According to Jason, there was a group competing in this tournament that was comprised of men over 70. That's right, over 70. I hope I can still walk after 70 much less throw a frisbee 250 yards into a basket.

I journeyed this afternoon with my sweet husband to the course in Easley, and we played about 8 holes. Ladies, let me just say, it was a lot of fun, but I don't think I will ever understand the concept of throwing a disc down a hill into the woods in order to clang it against some chains. Maybe it is just me.

We passed one man who ran up the hill like a deer on steroids. It was all I could do to haul it up the same hill. Jason was practically dragging me.

All of that to say, beware disc golfers of America, beware.

Post 100

I've been trying to think of something creative to do for my 100th post, but I can't muster anything. I don't have anything nifty to give away like some of my blogging friends do. I truthfully don't have anything overly inspiring to write about other than the fact that it looks like God lit a match and threw it into the trees around my town.

So what do you write when it is a significant post but you have nothing significant to write?

I suppose I'll just say, "thank you."

Back at the Administration Building

Today my dad is the inspiration for my post.

Election days are always big days in my family. My parents taught me and my sister that voting was a responsibility and a privilege. I've been registered since the day I was eligible to register, I think, and every election has brought a new level of excitement. As a matter of fact, I can't believe I'm in here on the computer while Tom Brokaw and Brian Williams are talking about who got what state.

Anyway, this morning, my dad went to his polling place to vote, waited in line for an hour, and was told that he had voted early. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I would think you would know if you had voted early.

My dad told them that there had been a mistake and that he had NOT cast his ballot yet. Of course, they sent him to the dreaded administration building. I'm thinking at this point that I need to change my blog and post only about that building since it has provided such inspiration to this point.

As you have probably already guessed, Daddy went up to the voter registration place and they told him that although they didn't have his signature anywhere, they were sure he had voted. They said it was possible that another Dodson had voted and they had accidentally marked my dad's name, but that he couldn't cast a normal vote because they had to be sure.

Let me stop here and say that Dodsons have very short tempers. And, we're pretty volatile when we get angry. Daddy said that this morning was the closest he's ever been to being arrested. I kind of believe it the way he was throwing around expletives when I was talking to him.

Back to the story...the folks at the admin building told Daddy to cast a provisional ballot (meaning it won't be counted until Friday) and the conversation, according to Daddy, went something like this:

Daddy: So my vote isn't going to count?

Some poor girl behind the counter: Oh, yes sir, your vote will count. All votes count.

Daddy: No, no it won't count. If it's provisional and you're not counting it until Friday, what does it matter then?

Girl: It counts.

Daddy: Whatever.

After all of this, my dad is convinced that the election is rigged and that if Obama wins, it's because everything was set up. After watching the Today Show this morning, I might be inclined to agree. Meredith and Matt were practically decorating the oval office for Obama this morning.

Well, I guess since it's only 8 p.m., we'll just have to wait and see.

An Epiphany...

You know, it's always scary to get an epiphany in church because usually when God shows you something or tells you something, it requires action. I'm not so good at action, sleeping, now there's something I can get behind.

Anyway, I've been working through two different Bible studies the past few weeks, The Truth Project, put out by Focus on the Family and The Way of the Master, put out be Kirk Cameron and Ray Comfort. Each study focuses on a different aspect of faith. The Truth Project seeks to show Christians the way to a biblical worldview, and The Way of the Master seeks to teach Christians the importance of evangelism.

Let me just stop here to say that The Way of the Master study is perhaps the scariest study I have ever been a part of. You see, each week builds on the previous week in its expectation of the participants to evangelize the lost. In other words, you've got to actually talk to people about Christ. It feels funny to even type it, but I get REALLY scared even thinking about approaching a stranger about my faith. When I say REALLY scared, I mean sweaty palms, goose bumps, knocking knees, the whole bit. I know most of you feel that way too.

This morning, however, after watching The Truth Project in Sunday school, I posed the question to my class, "Do you REALLY believe that when people who don't know Christ die they step directly from this life into hell for eternity." I say that I believe that, but if I don't share, what does my life say I believe (the essence of The Truth Project). If I don't share, I've shown I don't truly believe that.

Exodus 20:3 (the first commandment) says, "You shall have no other gods before me."

Here's my question, if I let fear keep me from sharing my faith, what is my god? It is certainly not the God of all creation, the one who commands me to have no other gods before him.

Luke 10:27 says, "He answered: 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'*; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'"

Again, my question, if I don't share because of fear, meaning I have made fear my god, and if that keeps me from loving my neighbor, then I am guilty of breaking the two commandments Christ ranked at the top of the list.

Here's where the action comes in: there will likely be fear in sharing, and there will likely be moments when I'd rather serve fear than God, but what is more important in the light of eternity?

Who's your god? Who's mine?

Trick or Treat?

Halloween this year was such fun. Our little puppy dog brought home the bacon (or should I say candy) for her parents.

East Pickens typically has a "trunk or treat" fall festival, but for some reason this year there was none. Jason and I were at a loss, what do you do with your one year old when there is no church parking lot to go to to get candy? I had a moment of brilliance when I remembered that North Greenville lets children go through the girls' dorms and collect candy.

That's what we did, we hauled it up to North Greenville, pillow case in hand (I'm a little over-hopeful), and by the time we left, Abby knew to pick up Snickers not Mary Janes.

I have to say that college kids are so funny. They absolutely have no clue. The first girl we saw had a huge bucket of candy, and when Abby got to her, the girl grabbed out of her bucket a pack of banana runts, and said, "Here you go little boy, you can eat those."

Now, you tell me how many 16 month olds you know who eat runts, the hardest candy on earth. All we could do was shake our heads and laugh.

We visited Nannie before we left (no picture because her hair was up in curlers) and we saw Nana and Papa. Aunt Heidi went with us.

A fun time was had by all.

Now for pictures.


Puppy with Daddy


Trick or Treat!


Grab the Snickers Abby!

Overambitious? Probably.

We've got some friends coming to eat with us tonight, and I'm afraid I've bitten off more than I can chew. Jason left me with strict instructions this morning. I'm to make sure the house is swept, clean off the futon in the office, and be sure that dinner is ready. Now, let me say that Jason did a tremendous amount of cleaning last night, so his instructions were not too much to ask.

I'm planning perhaps too much for dinner. If the chicken is thawed, I'm going to marinate it in an asian-inspired, Rachael Ray knock-off marinade. I'm going to attempt some rice, roast some root veggies, and make my favorite eclair for dessert.

Let's hope that it all gets done. The house I got in order while the princess was down for her morning nap, but the rest still waits to be accomplished.

Wish me luck!

Something to Ponder

What do we do when Christianity becomes inconvenient? What happens when what we believe (or what we say we believe) puts a strain on us or causes us to be uncomfortable?

My sister gave me the book Under the Overpass, and I've almost finished it. I can't say that it has been a comfortable book to read because it certainly has not.

What WOULD I do if a homeless man or woman were to sit beside me in church. That spot is, after all, reserved for my sister and my husband. What would I do if the homeless woman came and drank a beer on my porch or asked for a ride to the doctor's office (something that has happened to some wonderful friends of ours).

What does it mean to "do this unto the least of these"? What do I do when Christ calls and his voice doesn't fit into my comfortable, easy, posh life? What then?

I'm afraid I've been too guilty of favoring convenience over conviction. So many times I tell Christ, "later, when things are easier, when life is slower, when I know more scripture, when I have more money, when I have more time, later." When have I ever had more time, money, influence, education?

Excuses.

So, let me know, what do we do when Christianity becomes inconvenient.

Adventures in Voting

Yesterday was an adventurous day. For one, I got my hair cut (thank you, Debbie) for the first time in 4 months. I must say my eyebrows needed the visit more than my hair, but that is another post.

Before I could get my hair done, I had to negotiate an arrangement with my mom. You see, my Nannie needed to get a flu shot and vote, something my mother was going to take her to do (Nannie doesn't drive) after my mom finished eating lunch with a friend, but I needed my mom to come with me so that she could entertain Abby while I was being remade.

We took Nannie for the flu shot, not a big deal, and then went to the administrative building to let Nannie vote. Apparently if you are over 65 you can vote absentee simply because of the fact you are over 65. I think this is a brilliant idea considering the line that was at the administrative building.

You'll remember that Abby and I went to the same building last week so that I could have my voter registration officially changed; well, this trip rendered no less entertainment than the last.

Here's how the conversation went with several of the folks in line.

A tall, white-haired man standing right behind my nannie: "Well, is she (meaning Abby) going to be a preacher of a politician."

Me: "NEITHER", said rather emphatically. I think this may have offended the man. Perhaps I should have explained that the reason she can't be preacher is because she is southern baptist and they don't allow women preachers. I could have told him that I wouldn't mind if she were a missionary. I do love Jesus. I teach at North Greenville University, and there is a praise song as a ringback on my phone. I didn't get a chance to explain because then the woman and man behind him entered the conversation.

Little bent over man again with white hair: "Look at him."

Little old man's wife: "He sure is big for his age."

Now let me stop here. These people are standing in line to VOTE for the next president of our country. Abby is dressed from head-to-toe in PINK. AND, she is really SMALL for her age. They never asked how old she was.

Little man: "How old is he?" Now he asks

Me: "15 months."

Little man: "13 months. Wow. He gets around great. Is it a he or a she?"

Me: "A she."

Little man: "He's doing great then."

This was the end of our conversation. Nannie was almost through the line. As the talkative couple approached the counter I heard something about power of attorney and the fact that the woman needed to vote for the man.

I think I should be a screener for the voter registration and election board. Abby will help me.

And now....an Abby post

I figure is is well past time for me to post something about the sweet baby girl. I realize it has been quite a while.

She had another haircut today. Now her bangs look like something out of the 80s, but that is okay; she's a baby.

She saying lots of new words. Some of them are quite humorous: puppy DAWG (with that inflection and that pronunciation), mommy, daddy, thank you, thereyougo (all one word and with great emphasis when she really, really wants something), no-no, uh-oh (our new favorite game, otherwise known as: how many times can I get my parents to pick it up), nana, heidi, debbie. Some of the words sound the same, but my well-trained ear can pick out the difference.

I've put some pictures below.


This is our little reader. Maybe she'll be the next English major in the family. Right now, though, it's looking like veterinary school may be closer.


Since Abby has learned to walk it seems she needs the pinwheels to help her maintain her balance. Maybe veterinary school is out and the circus is in.


Every girl must have a pair of red shoes, Daddy.

Where Have I Been?

I can't believe how little I have written this month. I guess I could blame it on the weather or on the stack of papers that won't seem to leave my desk. I could say that I've been uninspired or that Abby has drawn too much of my attention, but they would all be excuses.

Simply put, I've been lazy. I haven't been diligent.

Well, I'm back now. I'll be here, thinking of new things to post, and inspiring few with my words.

On Tuesday Abby and I took a trip to the local voter registration office. I've been avoiding going there because I didn't want to hassle with Abby and the ladies behind the glass. Several months ago, I decided enough was enough; I needed to get my voter registration changed. You see, Jason and I will have been married 4 years in March, and my voter registration still has my maiden name and my parents' address on it. Please don't be alarmed and think that I haven't been voting. I have been. I just went to the polling place with my card and voted with my maiden name self.

I know that isn't the right thing to do, but we've all made mistakes (or blatant transgressions).

Anyway, back to the story, Abby and I went up there because several months ago I mailed in my card with the correct information filled in on the back of the card (just like the instructions say to do if you need your name or address changed). Amazingly enough, Pickens County Voter Registration didn't change anything on my card and simply mailed me a new card as a replacement.

So, Tuesday, off we jaunted to get the card changed to reflect my married status. It would be an interesting day if people thought I was still single. Can you imagine! How funny.

On the way to the administrative building, I passed the local food pantry. I think I knew that it was down off the road near the social services building, but I never thought much of it. After all, Pickens doesn't have a homeless problem.

I was wrong. Tuesday morning at 11:00, there was a line out the door. I was stunned. This is where my title comes in. WHERE HAVE I BEEN? I know of three homeless people in Pickens. There is the man with the long white hair and scraggly beard who carries his umbrella when it is bright and sunny and who wears his coat in the dead of summer. Then there is the man who smiles brightly at all who pass and throws his hand up in a friendly wave to anyone who glances in his direction and finally there is the woman with the crazy hair and glass eye who walks on the side of the road.

This is all I know about. I guess I've been under a rock. I'm not saying these folks are homeless, but they must be in great need to find their way to the food pantry to wait in line. How much food do I waste in a week. I know there is some hamburger in my fridge now that has gone bad. What an eye opener.

My sister gave me a book called Under the Overpass. It's about these guys who decided to live as homeless men for 5 months. They have recorded their experience.

God, give me eyes to see those who are so close to me who have such great need.

Cake Wrecks

I've got to point you to the new blog that I posted over on the sidebar.

It's called Cake Wrecks, and Jason and I roll in the floor laughing over this blog.

You will pee your pants when you look. I'm not kidding. It's that funny.

You Won't Believe This One

The second Friday of every month we have an English Department meeting. It is more a time to come together, pray for sanity, and sometimes vent frustrations. Let me not forget that we do discuss actual business.

Well, last Friday, as I sat in that meeting, I discovered something astounding, something that helps me understand my students a little better.

You see, in Greenville County Schools, it is apparently against the rules for teachers to give students zeroes. That's right. You heard me. No zeroes. The lowest grade a student can make is a 61. I'm not kidding. Quit laughing.

Let's say little Johnny Lazypants doesn't turn in his semester project that is worth 30% of his grade; he gets a 61. Little Lizzie Mediocre can turn in her paper and only get 15 more points that little Johnny. Fair? I think not.

I sat with this dumbfounded expression on my face when they told us that because the way I remember it, if you didn't turn something in, you got a big, fat, round ZERO on the top of the page (probably in red ink, but you can't do that anymore either).

All of that to say, it is slowly coming into focus why my students come and beg and plead for extra work when they "forget" to turn in assignments.

SHEESH, I say, SHEESH!

Yes, No, Maybe???

Some of you know that I've been undergoing tests to see if I have Celiac Disease. For those of you who haven't heard my drama, let me recap -- endoscopy, biopsy showing changes in the small intestine, bloodwork to see if I have a resistance to gluten, lots of gluten loading, doctor's appointment with mixed results.

For those who aren't familiar with Celiac Disease, it is another wonderful autoimmune disease where the body can't process gluten. As I'm sure all of you out in blogger world know, gluten is in practically EVERYTHING -- wheat, oats, bread, cake, cookies, processed meats, some cheeses, shall I go on? Anything that is really worth eating, usually contains gluten. The news that I might have this problem was absolutely devastating because let's face it, a girl of my size NEEDS gluten to maintain a healthy figure.

To eliminate gluten from my diet would be devastating. As I told the ladies at church on Wednesday when I was asking for prayer, Jason would probably be repulsed by my body were I to go on a gluten-free diet; I mean, I would lose so much weight! I kid, sort of, but you get the idea.

Anyway, at the doctor's office on Thursday, Dr. Kalathil told me that the results from my bloodwork were mixed. Mixed, you may ask, and you would be saying the same thing I did. How can the results be mixed? Well, it seems that I am definitely at a high risk for the disease. This was no big surprise since I already have one autoimmune disease (thyroid) and my grandmother is a type 1 diabetic. There are also three antibodies that the bloodwork shows. Two of these antibodies definitely indicate Celiac's. The other one they check for because it shows up in Celiac patients, but they aren't sure the implications of it.

As you might guess, the two definite indicators were low in my profile, but the ambiguous antibody was high.

Well, Alicia, what are they going to do? I'm glad you asked. In about 3 months, I'll have another endoscopy and if that biopsy shows changes, they will diagnose me with Celiac's and the fun will begin.

I guess I could consider myself in good company. Elisabeth Hasselbeck from The View has Celiac's. See what I mean about a figure-wrecker! Jason would hate for me to look like that. (A girl can dream, can't she?)

So, as for now, I'm eating gluten and enjoying being a medical mystery.

It's A Family Thing

Why is that poor, poor girl wearing that crocheted hat is probably what you're asking yourself right now. I know; I know. It really is a pity. Apparently, someone passed a law saying that you have to dress your kids in the most horrible clothes and then take pictures of them for the sake of posterity.

No, I'm kidding. It really isn't that bad, but the picture above is a picture of me at Easter 1983. To top it off, I'm wearing black shoes and white stockings. What an atrocity. Of course, my baby sister wasn't born at the time (she wouldn't come along until October). If she had been around, she would have told my mom that I looked horrible and that the least she could do would be to at least put something other than black patent leather shoes on me.

But alas, here we are in 2008, looking back at old photos.

You see, my mom has been going through pictures for a big family surprise for my grandmother. I figure it's pretty safe to post that on here since Nannie doesn't even own a computer and certainly doesn't know what a blog is.

I have taken some of these family treasures and posted them below. It makes me smile and maybe you'll get to smile today too.


Here's my great grandma Anderson. She married my great grandfather when she was only 14. He was 20 years her senior, and he died shortly after their tenth child was born. She lived 70 years as a widow. I attribute the ticked off look on Grandma Anderson's face to the fact that she had 10 kids and they couldn't get her any better of a Christmas tree than the Charlie Brown one in the background. Maybe they made up for it in gifts. The girl in the picture is my aunt Lena. At least she's smiling.


This is great grandma Powell. This picture was taken in 1975. Maybe I got the shawl from the above picture from her. It kind of looks like it, doesn't it? My only gripe is that Grandma Powell didn't have to wear the hat.


Here's the last one. This is me, my sister, Nannie and Papa at Thanksgiving in 1983. My sister was barely 2 months old. The funniest thing about this picture is that my grandmother still has the same stove and dishes that she did in this one. She still uses them. Twenty-five years later and the only thing she's changed are the rims on her glasses and the chairs around the table. After my Papa died, she got new kitchen chairs. I guess she did that because she knew Papa wouldn't be putting his hunting boots in the seats anymore.

On disappointments and other speed bumps in life

Hi, my name is Alicia, and I'm a control freak.

I know, I know, some of you are shaking your heads, saying, "Not Alicia, there's no way she's a control freak. She just rolls with the punches." (Let me imagine for a bit, okay; a girl can always dream).

You would be wrong, if that is indeed what you thought because I am most certainly a control freak, and there are many things in life that bring that to the forefront.

I wish there were some sort of support group you could join. Something like "Control Freaks Anonymous" or "We Want it Our Way", something like that. It might be problematic, however, since everyone would want to be president. I suppose control freaks just have their own private club with just themselves for members so they can control exactly how the group goes.

Anyway, there have been some things going on in the Looper world that have only served to heighten my sense of control. I'm realizing that maybe I'm a little OCD. Maybe I try to keep my thumb on things a little too much.

Or maybe I'm just falling apart. Who knows?

I was going to write a post titled "When Did Friendship Get To Be So Hard" and maybe I still will, but for today, at 1:35 p.m., on Wednesday, I'm left to wonder how I can keep a handle on everything.

Life is wonderful, please don't misunderstand; it's just that sometimes I can't see the forest for the trees. Sometimes I have a hard time just waiting, being still, letting God be God and me be Alicia.

That's what I'm beginning to see in the waiting: I can't control everything and that is okay. That's the way it should be.

Prepare to be amazed!

Wow! I can't believe I haven't posted in over a week! Insanity, I know. It seems that life just got away from me this week, and my poor, pitiful blog was neglected.

I can't even begin to explain how busy Jason and I were from Monday to Thursday. Our church was hosting a missions conference, which meant church Monday night, Tuesday night (we skipped) and Wednesday night. We had dinner with fantastic friends on Tuesday and then on Thursday Jason had soccer duty.

What is soccer duty, you might ask.

Well, sometimes Jason's brother-in-law works when his sons have soccer games and as amazing as Debbie (their mother) is, she can't be two places at once so Jason steps in as surrogate and takes one of the boys to soccer.

That meant that Thursday was busy too.

All in all, I know I shouldn't make excuses, but blogging was at the bottom of the list. I hope all of you survived my absence. I'm thinking you did.

Back to my original point, however, today I've been really productive. It's probably because Debbie and Kenny kept Abby this morning. Anyhoo, I got a whole chicken cooked. That's right, guts and all, cooked. I should have taken a picture to share with you my culinary expertise, but the thing was defleshed before I thought about it.

I graded papers, fought with our wireless network and vacuumed. Are you amazed yet? You should be.

Well, I think I'm going to go finish grading tests and hope that Abby naps for a bit. We're going to a movie tonight, which means, it's got to be done now! :-)

A Sad Ending

Many of you will remember that I began leading a women's Bible study near the beginning/end of June. It has been a wonderful journey and it ended last night. We walked through Beth Moore's Breaking Free, an absolutely fantastic study for those of you who have never been through it.

Every Thursday night (or almost every Thursday night) Jane, Cheriee, Perineau, and Nadine would come to my house between 5:30 and 6, ooh and goo over Abby, and then we would talk about Christ and about freedom. It was such a sweet, sweet time. Cheriee was full of questions, Perineau full of encouragement, Nadine full of wisdom, and my Aunt Jane full of smiles and nods and insightful comments.

I couldn't have asked for a lovelier group of women to lead.

Today on my way home from school I was praying for another group to lead. I thrive on it, and now that this study is over, I'm left at a loss. I have my Sunday school class, but I so enjoy leading women.

God has been faithful in our travels together through Breaking Free. Cheriee found out she DOESN'T have cancer (Hallelujah), Nadine has suffered some losses, and I gained two new, precious friends.

If you get the opportunity, go through a study with some other folks, reach out; we so desperately need one another.

On Vacuum Salesmen

Several weeks ago I unsuspectingly registered for a drawing at our local Pizza Inn. I was just standing there while Jason paid our bill and there was a podium with a big red and white sign that said, "Register for your chance to win $200.00". Well, we could definitely use $200, so I put our name on the piece of paper and stuffed it into the box.

A few nights later I got a call from a man saying that we had won a daily prize of $25 and that all we needed to do to claim the money was to let him come to our house and tell us about Filter Queen.

I don't know how familiar you are with Filter Queen but apparently it is a super nice, super expensive vacuum cleaner that can do everything from clean your rugs to raise your children.

The night he was originally supposed to come I got a raging stomach virus, so we had to reschedule. I should have had him come on the original night and see if the machine could cure me.

Last night he came to our house with boxes in tow and proceeded to demonstrate the Filter Queen for us.

It was DISGUSTING! I mean, I know I'm not a great housekeeper or anything, but this was absolutely revolting. There was dust and dirt and grime all over everything he touched.

He told us about how in the old days people kept their windows open and the air in the house was new every 30 minutes; now the air is new only every 4-5 hours. He had newspaper articles and doctor's prescriptions. It was quite convincing.

He did mention that he has sold more Filter Queens than any other salesman in the history of the company. Then again, he also said that his nephew holds the world record for most one-armed pushups. His past was impressive.

During the presentation, he told us about how only good parents have Filter Queens, all other parents don't really love their children and how a house is never really clean until you set up one of his machines in your living room. We learned that you can make your whole house smell like a eucalyptus bush by running this thing with a scented pad in the top. The thing could do anything.

I should have known when he said that the hosing was made of the same material as Michael Phelps's suit that it was beyond our reach.

After his 45 minute talk came the moment of reckoning. That machine is $1800, y'all! I'm not kidding, $1800! Do you have any idea what I could buy for that kind of money? Six, count 'em, SIX Kitchenaid mixers, the good ones, too.

We politely told him, no, that we couldn't take one because we had medical bills and we now pay cash for things thanks to Dave Ramsey and he came down, down, down on the price. He conveniently had a refurbished one in the car and he could give us for even cheaper.

The answer was still NO. I was so proud of Jason because he is the spender and I can tell everyone else no but him, and he stood firm. He later said that if I had nodded we would now own a Filter Queen. No nodding from this girl.

We might have been suckered in but the salesman told us they often have to REPOSSESS these vacuums when people don't pay.

Can you imagine, sitting in your house and having someone come to repossess your VACUUM! Insanity.

Maybe in a few years, after I have at least 1 Kitchenaid mixer, we'll buy a Filter Queen. Until then, I guess Abby will just have to live in a dirty home. Don't tell DSS.

You Simply MUST Read This

You have to go to Boo Mama's blog and read about the moment she had with her daughter.

It is short and will make you laugh until you cry!

The Golden Corral

I have to share with you one of the most hilarious things I've seen in a while. If you live in South Carolina and are at home at all during the day I'm sure you've seen all the personal injury ads that lawyers run.

Joel Bieber is one of Abby's favorites. She fixates on the television when she hears that catchy jingle, "When you're hurt we'll come to you; call Joel Beiber." I hope this doesn't inspire her to go into law. I know there's money there, but I just don't think I could handle it.

Anyway, one morning I was watching the ad with Abby on my lap and the very end came on, a catchy yellow screen with Joel Beieber's face right in the middle. At the bottom (and I could only read it because we have a high definition television) were the words, "Joel Beieber enjoys eating at Golden Corral."

How funny!

I guess that is their celebrity promotion. I can only guess that those who own and operate Golden Corral assume that their patrons would also be clients of Joel Beieber, so the next time you're eating there, just remember, "Joel Beiber enjoys eating at the Golden Corral."

You're in good company!

Sometimes I'm So Dense

Sometimes I wonder how often God has to work before I realize that He will do what He says He will do.

Jason's been working for my dad for almost 3 years now, and business has been good (not always great but definitely good). They build beautiful custom cabinets and furniture, and in the past few years, they've done some work for really rich, ritzy folks. Those of you who know my dad know how funny it must be to see him with his sawdust filled shirts and crazy graying hair talk to these men and women who are worth millions, but we are thankful for the work.

Lately, though, business has been slow. Maybe it's the economy or maybe it's just that time of year. I don't know. All I do know is that I tend to get really scared when there isn't work lined up, and when I say scared, I mean REALLY S-C-A-R-E-D.

We've been praying for work and praying for work and praying for work and lo and behold if work didn't come last night. A big job. A cabinet job. Just what we've been asking for.

You would think after all we've been through with Abby and with the way God has intervened in my life so many times before, I would know that he can be trusted. I guess that's why he keeps showing up, to show me again and again and again that I can know, believe and trust him completely with EVERYTHING.

What Was That About a Radio Star?

Abby experienced her first high school football game last night. It was pretty significant because in a sense, it was her beginning. Easley played Pickens, and Jason and I went on our first date to the Easley/Pickens game. Nothing says, "will you be with me forever" like high school football.

Anyway, East Pickens does concessions several times during the season and those of us who are very poor volunteer to work the concessions stands in order to get into the game for free. Thank goodness on our first date, we didn't do this because it is hot and sweaty enough in the stands and much worse in a 12'x 12' brick hothouse.

Jason strapped Abby onto himself (something I don't think you're supposed to be able to do with a 14 month old, but whatever) and into the game we went. Abby lasted all of 5 minutes in the concessions area. I guess I should be clearer, I lasted all of 5 minutes in the concessions area with Abby.

After Jason handed the baby girl to me so that he could go move our car from the not-yet-open Walgreens parking lot where the cops were threatening to ticket folks who parked there (seriously?!?, I stood the heat as long as I could.

Abby and I quickly moved to the grassy spot behind the end-zone and watched the guys warm up and then Abby cheered for number 11 (her kicking cousin) and we watched the game. I'm not kidding. I would say, "Go number 11" and she would lift her two forefingers. She's brilliant. It's amazing.

Somewhere during the game, one of the local Pickens radio stars decided that it was live-feed time and all the smelly middle school boys in Pickens County gathered around him for a chance to yell a "shout-out" to whoever middle school boys "shout-out" to.

The only problem was that Abby and I were at the edge of the throng. Typically, I look at these kinds of antics and laugh, but with a 14 month old in my lap who was already unhappy and not being able to get on the ground and crawl, I was something like a mother bear who had been woken up in the middle of hibernation.

At one point, I practically had five boys falling into my lap, which was already filled enough with Abby.

The radio dj apologized profusely and then moved to the other side of the fence to keep the boys and girls at bay.

Really, didn't these children ever learn from their parents that video killed the radio star.

Shout-out!

Taking My Chances

This weekend is the big Weecycled Wear event in Pickens. Every mom, grandma, aunt, or for that matter potential mom descends on the old Winn-Dixie building to buy used baby/toddler clothes and accessories.

It is a brilliant idea, one big yard sale inside where people can bring their baby clothes and get used ones at great prices.

I've gone the past few times they done it, and I have gotten some wonderful steals! As a matter of fact, Abby's exersaucer came from there. It is my favorite toy by far! Thanks, Amanda!

Well, my mom called me asking if I wanted to go this afternoon and get some things. You see, Jason and I are at the point where a second child would be a welcome addition, and Weecycled also has some fantastic maternity clothes.

The only problem is...

Every mom, grandma, aunt, and woman in Pickens County comes to this event. That means that I will inevitably run into someone I know, work with, am related to, you get the idea. That would be fine except when you're perusing the maternity items, people tend to jump to conclusions.

Jason and I got engaged on a mission trip in Colorado and before our bus got back onto Southern soil, everyone in Pickens knew our news.
That brings me back to my original point, if I were spotted shopping for maternity clothes (even if it weren't an immediate need) rumors would fly.

My mom told me not to worry about it, that if any rumors did get started, we would just tell them otherwise. I'm not so sure.

I did, however, take my chances and shop.

If you hear I'm pregnant and it hasn't been confirmed here, then you know it's just a rumor!

Tell About The South

I work with a beautiful, smart, talented, sweet, Southern Korean lady. The other day she came into my office to chat, a wonderful distraction from the mountains of papers that are currently on my desk. Yes, I realize it is only 3 or so weeks into the semester, but for some reason, papers are no respecter of date.

When Dr. Shin came in, she started to talk about her family (she has two wonderful little boys) and her church and other things. Then she asked me something really interesting. She wanted to know about Southern culture.

Hmmm....

Apparently the culture of South Carolina is nothing like the culture of South Korea. I kid, but you know what I mean.

I sat and thought for a few minutes. I didn't know what to say. You see, I've been in South Carolina ALL my life. I've taken the occasional trip here and there, and I've seen a lot of the world, but my family, my friends, my home, my life is here in South Carolina.

My family has deep roots. We've been here since the Revolutionary War or before. Jason's family is the same way. I don't think about my culture that much because it is just what it is.

So here's my question for you: tell me something about Southern culture. You may not even be "a southerner" but I'm sure you have some observations. What are your thoughts?

And Her Name Shall Be....

I think we finally decided on a name for the nameless pup. Leia. Jason really wanted a Star Wars name, and since Leia is the only female character with a relatively "normal" name, we picked that.

I got some fantastic suggestions, though, and we did consider some of them seriously. I was personally pulling for Toto since she kind of looks like a Toto, but we went another direction.

Right now both of my girls are napping. Actually, I don't know for certain that Leia is napping, but she is quiet, so I'll take that.

It's been kind of fun to have a new puppy around. I've never really had an inside dog. Maddie (our wonderful outside dog) was only inside for a few weeks because I got pregnant and she was too hyper. Good thing Abby isn't hyper. She might be in the back with Maddie. I'm just kidding! ;-)

Thanks for all your suggestions. We really did have a good time listening to your input!

Abby and Puppy

Here's a video of Abby and her puppy. Don't forget to suggest names below.

Abby's New Best Friend

We finally got a puppy for Abby. It was a stroke of good fortune, I suppose. A friend of ours had some puppies that are a mix between a Maltese and a Yorkie (very cute) and she called wanting to know if we'd like a little girl.

We talked about it, and decided that we would give it a try. She is a precious little girl.

The only problem now is that we aren't sure what to call her. Her papers say Sophie, but there is a Sophie down the street. We've tried Ally, but it is too close to Abby.

We kind of like Wickett (from Star Wars) but that didn't fit either. We used Widdle (another Star Wars reference, but it didn't work.


So here's what I need from you. Look at that face and help us come up with a name. We're at a loss. Any help would be appreciated. I'll let you know the results!

How To Sell A Cat

My mom has yard sales all the time! It's not really that she has a lot to sell, but she has a compulsion to get rid of stuff. I guess I didn't get that from her. I HATE selling things at yard sales. I never ask enough, and I'm just too much of a pushover.

Well, this morning was that morning. Yard sale time! After it was over, I called my mom to see how she did, and I made a startling discover, she got rid of the cat during the yard sale.

I mean, I know that Dave Ramsey says to sell so much that the kids think they're next, but the cat? Really, Dave?

How did she do this, you might ask. It seems that a sweet little pentecostal lady came by to do some shopping. My mom said she knew she was pentecostal because she had on pantyhose, sandals, a skirt and a jacket. I mean, that kind of fashion statement is unmistakable.

You have to understand that my parents recently took in a stray cat. For some reason, lost cats always find their way to my parents' house, and my parents always feed them. Every cat I had growing up was a stray. That's the way we did it.

Anyway, this cat was very friendly, rubbing on your legs, wanting to come in the house, biting my mom when she fed him, things like that. The sweet little pentecostal lady, asked my mom question after question about the stray, and my mom patiently answered, not knowing that the lady was actually scoping out the yellow and white feline.

The lady left without another word about the cat but returned a while later with a cat carrier and informed my mom that she had a family meeting when she got home and wanted the cat. My mom, being the good wife that she is, went to ask my dad if it was okay to get rid of the stray, and when she returned to her yard sale, the cat lady was taking up money for bought items and making deals. Seems to me that the lady was getting a little too close!

After all was said and done, the yellow and white cat went home with her new mom, and my mom was left cat-free. At least she's cat free until another stray comes along, at which time, I guess she'll have another yard sale.

All The Hype

I must say that I am encouraged by the enthusiasm this election season has inspired. Most of my friends and family know that I am truly a nerd at heart. I love listening to talk radio, and I enjoy watching CNN when the election results come rolling in. That kind of thing just lights me up.

I really can't explain it fully. There's just something about being "in the know" and watching how everything comes together in the end that gives me chills.

I am aware, however, that most of the general population finds my avidity for politics and world affairs quite strange and foreign. Take my wonderful husband for example. He sweetly bought me XM Radio so that I could listen to music and not commercials during my lengthy drive to work each day. What are all the presets set to? Talk radio channels, of course. It drives him crazy! He would be content to listen to the 80s channel all day.

Back to my main point though. It seems that more and more people are looking at and engaging in the political scene this year. Just yesterday I was on Facebook, and I noticed 4 or more notes written about the RNC. Most of them were not flattering, but at least people are dialogging.

I went to class this morning, and a student of mine asked me what I thought about the elections. I was floored. During the last Presidential election, I was teaching at Clemson, and the students there couldn't have cared less. I'm not sure if this season is different because Barack Obama is a minority or because Sarah Palin is a woman or if it is simply because so much is at stake. Regardless of the reasons, I am THRILLED that folks are taking notice.

May we never forget the price that was paid for our privilege to participate in the election process, and may we always remember to thank those who serve our country.

Can I Marry Sarah Palin?

I'm just kidding, kind of!

Last night I was checking my e-mail and looking at Facebook, typical things, really, and I remembered that Sarah Palin was giving her acceptance speech at the GOP Convention at 10:00. Well, 10:00 might as well have been 2:00 a.m. for me since I had been up since 5:30 yesterday morning and since I taught 4 classes yesterday.

I did, however, manage to keep my eyes open long enough to hear her entire acceptance speech, and I must say, "I think I'm in love!" What a wonderful pick for VP. She was eloquent, firm, funny, and educated. She didn't slam Obama, but she did have some pretty good jabs.

I have confidence that she is committed because she has been married to her husband for 20+ years and their five children are beautiful. She loves her country and she loves her family. Her dedication is obvious and her frugality appealing.

It is true that behind every good man is a better woman, and Sarah Palin is the better woman. If any of you are like me, you were wavering in your decision to vote for McCain in November. It's not that I want Obama to be President; it is more that I wasn't sure I wanted McCain to be President. It was a tough call. After the Palin pick, however, my confidence level is high, and I'm ready to cast my ballot.

If you didn't fair as well as I and fell asleep last night before she spoke, please take a moment to find her acceptance speech and watch it.

After all, the difference between a pit bull and a soccer mom is simply lipstick.

Too Much To Write

I've been absent on the blogging front for a while. This weekend was much too hectic for my liking. You'll remember I wrote about our dear friend Shorty who had cancer. Shorty died on Thursday around midnight. He's now pain-free and home. We had his funeral on Sunday.

Yesterday should have been a breeze, but Jason was home, so I was distracted and never made it in here.

I have a few things on my mind that I'd like to share. I'll do it in list form so that maybe I won't ramble too much.

1. I got a fantastic report from the endocrinologist on Friday. YAY!!!! It seems my levels are right where they should be. You could have peeled me off the floor or the ceiling after she told me. Totally unexpected.

2. Yay for Barack Obama. You won't here that from this Republican much, but I'm so glad that he told the media to back off Sarah Palin (p.s. YAY for Sarah Palin - NRA, pro-life, good-looking - what a pick, McCain). I understand that her daughter is pregnant, but she's doing the right thing by not aborting the baby, AND how quickly we forget Bill Clinton's escapades. That's all I'll say about that.

3. I waited for an hour and a half this morning to hear Michael Phelps' big "announcement" on the Today Show, which amounted to no more than "I'm getting a million dollars for my gold medals, and I'm starting a foundation. I'm not sure what kind of foundation, but it will have to do with swimming." I love Phelps, please don't misunderstand, but all that hype for that? I could have been watching Curious George with Abby for goodness sake.

I think that's all I've got. We did go to the zoo yesterday, and Abby was enthralled. I'll put some pictures up soon.

Enjoy your Tuesday!

Time for some Abby pictures!

I realize that it has been quite a while since I posted any new pictures of Abby, so here I am, posting pictures of the angel.

These are some from this summer, our fall against the coffee table and resulting pump knot, and Abby's new favorite past-time, taking folded clothes out of the laundry basket.

Enjoy!

Here's the shot of Abby's poor forehead after she fell against the edge of the coffee table one Sunday. Just like when she fell out of her crib, her Uncle Kenny got a frantic call just to make sure she was okay. She was.

Here's the angel sleeping. She didn't even stir when the flash went off. Aren't those turtle pajamas precious!

This is Abby taking all her clothes out of the clothes basket. She loves this game, but Mommy hates it! If it keeps her occupied, I guess Mommy will just have to endure it.



One of Mommy's favorite games is putting Abby in the clothes basket, but Abby doesn't like that very much. "Oh, Mommy!"

My Miracle Jewelry

I know this is a strange title for a post, but I have to share with you this small miracle.

Meredith just wrote about allergies and acquiring new ones, and although this wasn't an allergy, I can relate to not being able to wear rings and swelling wrists.

Most of you know that while I was pregnant with Abby I had a terrible time with my blood pressure. Well, high blood pressure often leads to swelling in the feet, hands and wrists and anywhere else that Satan can think to have a person swell.

I remember vividly that my fingers and wrists became the size of golf and basketballs, respectively, and I had to stop wearing my rings. With my wedding rings, I simply put them on a chain and wore them around my neck, but a girl needs some bling occasionally, especially when she feels like a beached whale.

On occasion, I would put on the beautiful tanzanite ring my husband gave me on our wedding day and wear it out, and I was insistent that I wear my watch (the one I've had since high school). I mean, you can't teach class without a watch.

Unfortunately, my fingers and wrist didn't appreciate my effort to make the beautiful, and one day, after I barely got them off, I put them in a pocketbook.

Well, those of you who have had children know that your brain turns to mush somewhere around your second day of pregnancy, and after Abby was born, I couldn't remember where the ring and watch were.

Jason and I have been searching for over a year now for them but to no avail. I promise you, I have been through EVERY pocketbook in my closet and never found them.

Last night, I went into the bedroom and Jason asked me to close my eyes. He grabbed my hand, and I had a feeling about what he was doing. "Don't play with me," I said. But he wasn't playing.

It seems he had prayed and asked God to help him find the ring and watch because this week is a particularly hard week for me, and you know what? God came through. Jason found the ring in a Vera Bradley pocketbook. Not only did he find the ring, he found the watch also!

I'm amazed at God's faithfulness in even the little things like finding rings and watches.

What's your miracle story?

The Woman Teacher With The Man Voice

My nephews started school this week. I can't wrap my mind around the fact that McKenley is in HIGH SCHOOL! I mean, wasn't it just yesterday that I was watching him at daycare? And Austen, he's got such personality; it really is amazing.

Their dad was over today to take Jason to pick up Vader (for those of you who don't know, that is what we call his big, black truck that has been sick for several weeks). Vader has been healed and was ready to come back to his driveway.

Anyway.

Apparently, Kenny and Debbie had the boys ride the bus to and from school this week so that they would know what to do should they ever NEED to ride the bus to and from school. Times have changed, I tell you.

I was always one of those spoiled kids whose parents took them to school every day. My mom was the one waiting at 1:30 when school didn't get out until 2:30 so she could be at the front of the line to pick us up.

We had it easy.

Jason didn't have it so well. He rode the bus and befriended the scary girls so that they could kill anyone who did anything bad to him.

Today, they have a bus driver and another adult who is positioned at the back of the bus to make sure that kids don't get hurt (or pregnant, whatever). Why didn't they think of this years ago. I mean, really, can a bus driver really do her job well if she is trying to keep murders from occurring on the back row?

Apparently, the adult at the back of Austen and McKenley's bus was a "woman teacher with a man voice." Those are Austen's words. I can picture her now. Big, tall, square with a slight mustache, screaming at kids.

Oh my! The joys of back to school!

The Spaghetti is Gone

I HATE leftovers. I'm not really sure where or when my aversion to leftovers began, but I can tell you that today it is full-fledged. I've tried to change my leftover-hating ways, but you can't teach an old dog new tricks it seems.

I've realized, however, in the past few weeks that leftover-hater or not, I've got no choice but to eat them.

Most of the time, food that isn't eaten the first time around sits in our refrigerator until it resembles some sort of science experiment. I shudder to think how much money we could make if we just turned some of those Pyrex containers over for scientific study. We'd be millionaires, I'm sure. No doubt, there is a cure for cancer in our fridge.

We had spaghetti on Tuesday night because I was too tired to fix anything else, and I had thawed out chicken from the freezer, and I was dying to try my new grill pan.

The spaghetti was wonderful, of course, but I really, really, really didn't want to eat it again.

I asked my wonderful, creative, great cook friend Amanda what to do with leftover spaghetti other than throw it out, and she said, "spaghetti sandwiches," as if it were something that everyone made!

I'd never heard of such a thing. Spaghetti on bread with cheese? Foreign but wonderful sounding.

I did it. I made spaghetti sandwiches with some leftover bread and provolone cheese, a bit of butter and mayonnaise (my tribute to Paula Deen) and it was heavenly.

AND

All the spaghetti is gone. A miracle in and of itself considering my aversion to eating food more than once.

Life's Little Disappointments

Have I mentioned to you that Abby loves dogs?

The first time we recognized this burgeoning passion of hers was one day when I went to take dinner to a friend who had just had a baby. They have a beautiful golden retriever mix named Charlie, and when Abby met Charlie, it was true love. She jabbered at that dog and grabbed Charlie's hair and tried to give her a kiss. We taught her very early that a dog says, "Woof Woof" and she kept saying "Woof Woof" to Charlie. I think she was trying to communicate in some dog language that only she knows.

Later that week, we went to see my aging great aunt who has a little dachshund, and Abby did the same thing except we would let her grab that little dog because he isn't used to being around people.

She loves the canine species.

We decided that since she has the potential to be the next Dog Whisperer that it was time to get an inside dog. Our wonderful friends who have lots of dogs in their house recommended a Japanese Chin, and we were set.

We would get an adult from a breeder who was trying to place a dog. It was perfect.

Until.

My friend Katie got the dog to make sure it would be a match, and Sally (the Chin) barked incessantly.

"Sally's not the dog for you," Katie explained. "I'm going to kill her if she doesn't quit barking!"

That was that. I was disappointed. I expected to spend all day tomorrow with the new addition to our family, but all isn't lost!

We have hope. We may get another Chin from a different breeder, and if that doesn't work, something will.

As for now, we just keeping letting Abby watch the Sarah McLaughlin commercials about animal cruelty, and Abby keeps saying, "Woof, Woof".

The Back to School Blues?

And we're off!

Classes start tomorrow morning, and as I sit here in my office waiting for the the last of the two longest days of the year to end, I'm surrounded by paper and pens and half-drunk cups of coffee.

I think I'm ready.

I meant to go by my classrooms this afternoon and get a feel for the places I'll spend so much time in the next few weeks, but I didn't make it that far. You would think that with 9 hours on campus, I could find 20 minutes to scope out my classrooms, but you'd be wrong!

Every time I thought that I was finished copying, I'd remember something else. Let's hope that I don't remember something that must be copied at 2:45 this morning. At that point, it's too late because it has been scientifically proven that on the first day of class, no copiers work on campus, not one. Well, if you do happen to find a copier that works, it will jam and you will be left with burns on your hands and ink on your clothes.

My students will just have to wait if I've forgotten anything.

All that to say, Fall Semester, here we come!

Awesome Backgrounds

I know that in the past few days I've been rather spastic with my backgrounds, but I think that I have finally found one I love. I got it from this fantastic blog. You should go there and check it out.

I just had to give her credit for the beautiful background.

Mama and Elvis

As I'm sure all of you know, yesterday was the 31st anniversary of the king's "death". I know this simply because my mother has reminded me every August 16th that I can remember that "Today is the day Elvis died".

I also get a yearly reminder on January 8 that "today is Elvis' birthday".

What can I say? My mom loves the king.

This year was particularly poignant because my parents took a trip to Flat Rock, North Carolina to watch the Elvis show at the local community theatre.

"Maybe they'll do something special since it is the day Elvis died," she said when I reminded her of the significance of the date. "I didn't even think about what day it was when I bought the tickets," she said with contrition in her voice.

I can't even fully explain my mom's love for Elvis except that she was 25 when he died, and I can only guess that she was truly in love with the man.

When I was in middle school, we went to Memphis, Tennessee, and of course, we HAD to go to Graceland. I'll admit that it was a really neat place, and while we were there, my mom bought this bright pink, plastic cup with the word "ELVIS" across the side.

She still uses that cup. "I like the handle," my mom swears, but I think she still uses it because it says Elvis on the side.

You can't even tell what the word is, but we all know. Every year at Christmas, we swear we're going to get her a new cup, but I don't think she would use it.

To top it off, today we were at her house for lunch, and she had Elvis music playing in the background while she fixed lunch.

"Is that in tribute to the king," I asked.

"No!" she said emphatically, "It's just cooking music."

But we all know the truth.

Long live the king!

An Olympic Gymnast?

Apparently my daughter aspires to greatness. We realized this morning that she must have been born to be an Olympic gymnast.

She is small; she has a lot of energy, and she is unstoppable.

We've been watching the Olympics obsessively since they started, and I think that Abby finally realized her calling.

I'm hoping that Michael Phelps will have a child soon (who knows, those things happen) and Abby can marry him. It would be perfect.

I digress, however. This morning, Abby slept late (8:45); we were astounded, so at 10:00 it was naptime.

We are blessed because she still takes two rather longs naps a day, one in the morning and one at night.

Unfortunately, she did not think that 10:00 was an appropriate time for a nap today, and she cried and wailed when we put her in her crib.

Here's where the Olympic spirit comes in.

After 30 minutes or so of crying, we heard a loud "kathump" and then Abby crying.

She had undone the locks on her crib, and the side, which is hinged all the way across, had fallen down, and Abby had tumbled out.

She didn't stick the landing.

It didn't hurt her; although, I was ready to put her in the car and go immediately to the ER because you never know what happens internally when a child falls.

My brother-in-law got a frantic call from us asking whether or not she was okay. How he would know is beyond me since he was at his house 10 minutes away, but anyway. Kenny was insistent that she was okay because for some reason "God protects kids and drunks," he said.

All that to say, our future Olympian is now in her bed with the hinged side securely against the wall and her parents looking at expensive retirement homes.

Mommy Blogs

Yes, it is 3:45 in the morning, and yes, I am posting here.

Abby decided that she needed to cry at about 2:00 this morning. Why can't she cry at a reasonable hour, say, 9:00 a.m. or 1:00 p.m. I suppose children have their own timetables, and those of us who endeavor to be parents just have to work with it.

After a few minutes of crying, I succumbed to the pressure to go pick her up and comfort her. Unfortunately, I don't bring much comfort! Thus began our hour screamfest.

Something about a baby screaming in the middle of the night makes me extremely hungry, so when she finally quit crying and was just hiccuping and whimpering, I went in the kitchen and fixed a bowl of Cherrios and came to visit with you.

You'll notice that I posted a new list to the side of my blog called Mommy Blogs. No, these aren't just blogs for moms; they are blogs for everyone.

Each is written by a mom, and they are most of the time hysterical; although, they can be fun and entertaining too. I know there are only 3 listed right now, but as I find more, I'll add them.

Keep checking!

Just Holding and Being Held

Today was my first official day back at school. Please don't get me wrong. I LOVE my job. I can say that honestly with no reserve. I really do love getting up in the morning, teaching class, laughing with my students and colleagues, and I even love reading papers.

The only tough part is that the first day back is full of meetings. It doesn't help that NGU's SACs review is coming up. The chaos is indescribable.

Anyway, after a day full of meetings, I got the call from Jason.

"What was the call," you may be wondering. Well, you see, Jason's truck (the one we bought just a month ago) had started acting up, so he took it to a mechanic because we were fairly certain that the transmission was the problem. The mechanic called and confirmed that it was indeed the transmission.

That isn't the best part.

The best part is that apparently, this isn't a new problem. That's right, someone, presumably the person we bought the truck from, knew there were problems and got it fixed just enough to get it sold. We were the suckers who bought it.

I really do feel bad for Jason because who could have known. I asked my mom, "are we responsible when someone lies." The answer obviously is NO! Unfortunately, we do have to pay sometime when people lie.

After the call, I kind of lost it.

I've been having some health problems, thyroid, ulcer, blah, blah, blah. The long and short of it is that we're going to have a GI bill soon, not the army kind of GI but the doctor kind of GI.

I'm overwhelmed.

Satan is a sneaky snake because he doesn't let us think about just the one problem, but they all crash in at the same time.

On my way home, I was listening to my good OLD Joyful Sound cd, and one of the songs says, "So just remember, when you're standing in the valley of decision and the adversary says, "Give in," just hold on. My Lord will show up. And He will take you through the fire again."

After I heard it, I thought, "God, I can't hold on. I don't have the strength."

The next song said, "Great is He who's the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords; He is wonderful."

That I can hold onto. God's character doesn't change because my circumstances change. I can hold onto that, strength or not.

I know that my posts of late have been rather depressing, but that's were I am. Just holding on and believing. Just holding and being held.

Plan B?

Last week I was in the grocery store at the pharmacy, fighting with the folks behind the counter. Well, I wasn't really fighting as in fist punching, but I was trying to make a pharmacist, imagine that, understand the importance of filling prescriptions the way they are written.

Anyway.

I noticed as I stood there waiting a small box on the birth control shelf title "Plan B". I recognized this as the so called "morning after pill," but I didn't think a whole alot about it other than "How sad."

Well, just a minute ago, I was looking at MySpace and the banner at the top of the page was an advertisement for Plan B. It describes it as "emergency birth control," and the slogan for the pill is "Because the unexpected happens."

Incredible.

I find it difficult to believe that just because a child is unexpected means that we have the right to kill it. I mean, if I showed up at my parents house unexpectedly, I certainly hope that they wouldn't kill me. Although, my dad did draw a gun on my sister when she showed up at 3:00 in the morning without notice, but I digress. That is simply a hazard of living in the deep south.

Seriously though, the other disturbing aspect of this is the fact that getting the pill doesn't even require a prescription. According to the banner, if you are 18, you can buy the pill over the counter. No accountability, no guidance, just a pharmacist handing it to you through the window. As if it were Zyrtec or Benadryl.

I pray that my grandchildren aren't unexpected. I'm certainly glad that such things weren't around when Jason was conceived because he was unexpected. Pray for our nation and for girls and adults who view babies as nothing more than an inconvenience that can be taken care of with a pill and a glass of water.