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.