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!