A Day On the Farm

Last Wednesday evening the members of the digital photography class I am taking had a field trip. We went out to Lantern Lane Farm.

Lantern Lane is a great horse farm in Rutherford County (even though you think you are in Mt. Juliet... you aren't). I know the owners. I knew them before they purchased the farm. They are great people! Joni is a real estate agent and one of the sweetest people I have ever met. She loves people... but she loves the Lord more. The best thing about her is that she lets the Lord love people through her. She is an amazing woman. AMAZING. Makes me wonder why she hooked up with Ralph all those years ago.

Ralph. What can I say about Ralph? Probably not much that is printable. :)

Oh, I'm kidding. I love Ralph. He's a fun guy. He tells it like it is and doesn't really let you throw a pity party. I worked with him when I was on staff at Two Rivers. He was the children's choir director. Those kids just did not mess with Mr. Ralph. He wasn't a Nazi about it, but he was firm with them and they respected him for it.

I don't really respect him. Just ask him and he will tell you. Kinda hard to respect a man who cheats at cards.

Seriously. He cheats. He will tell you he cheats. Again... he tells it like it is.

At any rate, they have a great place and they have horses. I love horses. I love taking pictures and I was very excited that our first field trip was going to be at Lantern Lane.

By the way... if you want more info about Lantern Lane, check out the website here:

http://www.lanternlanefarmtn.net/

The website is going to be updated soon, but that will give you an idea of where we were. If you are interested in volunteering with the animals, you can contact the Cooks through that website. Or, if you need a weekend away or have family that is coming into town and need a place to stay, the cabin in the perfect place! (Yes, that was a shameless plug for Lantern Lane Farm)

These are some of the pictures I took whilst I was there:

This is a picture of Dolly. She is a beautiful walking horse that was in foal with Apostrophe when the Cooks bought her. She was very patient with me and let me get in pretty close in order to take this shot...

This is Scooter. He is a precious guy who was really, really good with all the children that accompanied their parents to the farm for the photo shoot. Every so often Scooter would get a little nervous. So, he and I bonded that evening. I hung around Scooter and let him know what a great horse he was. He enjoyed the attention and snuffled the hands and shoulders of the little children who thought he was just as great as he is!

I also took some odd pictures. Because I like to take odd pictures. I loved the texture of the wood on the barn.

And here is the barn itself. It is a lovely shot of a lovely barn on a lovely farm. A lovely barn on a lovely farm owned by lovely people. Well... at least Joni is!

Oh, okay Ralph. You are lovely too!

These Boots Are Made For Walkin'...

I own a pair of lace-up ropers. Did you know that about me? It does not really fit my typical shoe mold. I purchased them for a specific reason and I made a friend of mine who had lots of years of horseback riding/working cattle help me pick them out.

See, I wanted to take horseback riding lessons. I have always loved horses. ALWAYS. I never owned one because when I was little we moved from base to base because my father was in the military. When we finally settled, we really did not have the means or the acreage to host a horse. But that did not mean I gave up my love of these magnificent animals.

Finally, I determined that I would take horseback riding lessons. My first instruction was to purchase a pair of boots that had a heel on them. I was pretty sure my four inch black knee boots were not going to work. So... I hit my very first country and western gear store to find a pair of cowboy boots.

I apparently do not have the ability to wear cowboy boots. I have pretty large feet for a girl and I just could not cram them into pull on cowboy boots. My friend then introduced me to ropers. These boots were great! I could cram my feet in them and then lace them right up as tight or loose as I wanted.

I survived all my horseback riding lessons. I survived a six hour bona fide trail ride (even thought my jeans did not) and when all was said and done... I retained my ropers.

I have not had a need of them over much these past few years. I will pull them out occasionally and wear them. I have friends with horses that I have been able to visit more lately. I have really enjoyed going out and petting the babies and spending time with my friends.

The other night, I was there with a group of people who I am taking a digital photography class with. I knew there would be much walking about. Therefore, I decided that it would be a good time to pull the ropers out of my closet and wear them for the day. I discovered something rather odd.

I walk differently when I am wearing ropers.

I am wondering if it is my inner cowgirl trying to come forth.

I would think this... except that I am not a cowgirl. Really. Not. One.

But I do walk differently. My stride is longer. It is almost a more confident stride. It borders upon a swagger.

I have never swaggered in my life. Unless you consider a few parties I attended, okay... hosted, in college.

No... that wasn't so much a swagger as stumbling.

So. I'm thinkin' I'll be wearing those ropers a little more often.

Maybe I'll catch me a cowboy! :)

... And Then I Woke Up.

I have apparently developed very bad sleeping habits. As you will recall from a few posts back… I have awakened in the morning with the mouth guard I occasionally wear in varying locations in my bed or on the floor.

Let me back track by stating that I am a night person. I really do not enjoy mornings at all. I would never have survived in the wild days of yore when womenfolk woke at the crack o’dawn to work the fields, birth the babies and fight off outlaws. (Okay, I might have been able to fight the outlaws, assuming they were not morning people either!) I understand they went to bed at sunset and were therefore awake and fresh as daisies by the time the sun rose. That still would not be me. I could still sleep until 9 or 10.

But, I live in the modern era of alarm clocks and all night cable television/internet access. Because I am susceptible to hitting the snooze button for an hour or so, I have devised a second alarm. My cell phone will put forth a hideous sound about 15 minutes after the alarm clock. The problem is there is a snooze option on the phone two. I essentially spend about 30 minutes rolling from alarm clock to cell phone (each on opposite sides of the bed).

Now, in order to GO to sleep, I set my television on a timer. I will set it for about 30 minutes and I am usually asleep within 5-10 minutes. I never hear the TV click off. EVER. I do not have bedside tables. Instead, I have two short pillars on either side of the bed that serve as tables. There is really only enough room on one for a very small lap, my TV and cable remotes and my cell phone. The other side only has the alarm clock. Nothing else will fit there.

Side Note: My TV is old enough that it has to have a separate cable box. The option for the time is on the TV remote but I can use the cable remote to change channels and monitor the volume.

The alarms started going off this morning. I started my morning practice of rolling from one side of the bed to the other and hitting various snooze buttons. At whatever point I actually “woke up” I found myself in bed with various devices. (Oh. That doesn’t sound good). I not only had dragged the electrical CD/Radio/Alarm clock into the bed with me, but I also had my cell phone and BOTH television remotes.

Amazing. I hate to think what would happen if I were actually married. I mean, er…

Wow. That didn’t sound right either.

Grilling Observations

So... I decided that I would venture into the heat and humidity of the day in order to grill chicken. Yes, Brent, I grilled chicken. ME. A Woman. In the grilling area!

For those three people who read this blog, let me 'splain. My friend Brent has forever deemed that women were not allowed in the grilling area. Not. Allowed. The only time a woman is allowed in the grilling area, per Brent and various other male figures in my life, is if they are bringing grilling utensils to the men folk or are wiping the brow of the studly men what are cooking the meat over the open fire. It's a little chauvinistic, but for me it has been true for many years.

Until now. Now I AM in the grilling area. I am the grill master. Okay, I am the grill mistress... but that almost sounds a little dirty.

I purchased a charcoal grill for my father for Father's Day. Why? Because that is what he asked for. Has he used it? Not. One. Time. Many years back I purchased him a small gas grill. He used it once, I think. That should have been my first clue that the charcoal grill would not see much action. Since I did not want to waste the money, I determined to put the grill to use myself. Here are some observations from the grilling area:

1) When lighting a pile of charcoal, one should begin lighting towards the back of the grill. That way, when you realize you have lit the front and you attempt to light the far end, you will not burn yourself. You will probably only do this once, as you will learn your lesson quickly.

2) If you see one portion of the coals are not lighting and decide to blow the flames toward that area, you want to be careful not to stick your face too close to the coals when you blow. Charcoal is a funny little substance. It may shower you with bright and pretty sparks. You will move away quickly and will be grateful that you did not catch fire. (Not that I'm speaking from personal experience here. It's just common sense. Yep. That's what it is.)

3) If you use a cookie sheet to place your "hot-off-the-grill" meat/chicken/fish/pork, you will not want to put your hand directly under the sheet. That hot off the grill meat really IS quite hot. You'll burn your hand and then almost drop the food you have spent quite some time cooking. It is lively entertainment as you are juggling food, utensils and a hot sheet.

There will be other points to determine I am sure. Stay tuned!

I Run... therefore I Ache...

So, here I am... a dainty, fresh, spring-like flower determined to run off the pounds.

Oh, okay. I am not fresh and I don't believe I was even born dainty. But, determined I am.

As we all recall (you know... the both of you who actually read this) ... I hit the streets (literally) on Monday and ran the equivalent of a full lap around the track that is across the street from where I live. I survived that night's adventure. Came home. Cooled down. Showered and went to bed.

I woke up on Tuesday thinking I was not going to be able to move. But... I could! I scampered right out of bed (okay, I rolled) and skipped to the bathroom (crawled) and started my day on a high note! (An hour late to work). But there was NO PAIN. None.

And then, my friends, Tuesday evening appeared. Apparently the muscles were happy to move as I willed until approximately 24 hours post exercising event. Then, they rebelled. Oh... the ache. The inhumanity of it all! I wisely determined that it would be very BAD if I were to attempt to run again. So, I exercised in the house instead, doing some simple ab work, etc. Nothing too strenuous... just enough to let my muscles know who was in charge!

On Wednesday morning, my muscles let ME know who was in charge and I found myself crawling up the stairs at the office (Okay, I really took the elevator) and was VERY happy that I was unable to exercise that night because I was going to a small group meeting that was at the church I have been visiting.

Fast forward to this evening. The muscles had repaired themselves and the weather was nice enough (not too hot and humid) to hit the streets again. As I was making my second walking lap (to warm up) I found a few hoodlums had perched themselves on the playground and I didn't feel all that secure being by myself on the track (dainty, fresh flower that I am). So, I modified my route a little bit to stay closer to civilization and decided that since the length was shorter, I could make the run a few more times.

So what if the track sloped downhill for the most of the way? I was still running. My heart was still pounding, my lungs were still bellowing (can your lungs bellow? I am thinking of an old-fashioned bellows that people had next to a fireplace) and my muscles started screaming at me again.

I have survived night two of the running. Survived. Night Dos!

And when I looked up, the Lord blessed me with my very own rainbow. Just. For. Me.

Thanks God!

Just a Few Observations

I was pondering a few of life's little details when these thoughts hit my brain and I thought I would share them with you (you know... both of you people who bother to read this blog):

1. Why do you think that when Goldfinger (of the famous James Bond "Goldfinger" movie) had Jill Masterson killed and her body completely painted gold and left on the bed for James to find, that they did not paint her hair gold? Maybe is it because she was already a blonde. I can almost overlook that fact, but then you notice that Jill is gold EVERYWHERE. Everywhere except for her lovely and perfectly coiffed hair... AND her eyebrows and eyelashes.

Yes, ladies and gents, Jill's face is completely painted, including her lips, but she has very BLACK eyebrows painted perfectly on and long UNreal eyelashes. Kinda makes me want to find the person who was responsible for this faux pas and smack 'em in their noggin.

2. I think the reason the Sham-Wow guy kinda creeps me out is not because he is (a) WAY too skinny or that he has (b) one perpetually lifted eyebrow. It is more because of the permanently attached HUGE microphone attached to his face. I have worked in productions before. I have seen the technology and PEOPLE... there are smaller, less noticeable microphones in the world. Let's invest!

3. I received my textbooks in the mail today. One textbook is a hard cover book that reminds me of a history book from my 8th grade Social Studies class. Very, very odd. But, it has that "new book smell" to it, which makes everything all better again.

Now, I'm just waiting for class to start. Countdown is less than a week away.

4. Those muscles that I worked out with last night are speaking very clearly to me tonight. Okay, they are not really speaking so much as they are SCREAMING at me. It's okay muscles! I hear you loud and clear. You are in pain. You hate me. Get over it and get ready to get back to it tomorrow!

Yes... I took the night off from running/walking because I need to return to work tomorrow and if I pushed it two nights in a row, I would be investing in a sequeway or some other mode of transportation.

5. There is a nice shaded area in the parking lot where I work that EVERYONE wants to park their car in. I used to be one of those people, until my office hours changed. Now, all the good spots are taken. What to do....? Well, I realized that most of those people head out to lunch between 11 and 11:30. So, at about that time, I take a break from my work day and move my car to the shaded parking lot.

Then I laugh manically as I return to my desk to work.

I Know You're Wondering...

I am certain that both people who read this blog (I am grateful that two people actually read it) have been sitting on pins and needles and wondering how I am doing with the weight-loss plan. Well, let me tell you. It stinks. Probably because I have not been true to it.

You know, that first week I drank enough water to fill a bathtub. The next week I just did not. I would forget to clean out my 64 ounce container. Or I would clean it and forget to bring it to work.

I had a friend who promised to start this journey with me as well. But, they were not "ready" to begin right away. They needed a week of self-indulging carnivorous eating. Not that I have planned to become a vegan. Nosiree. Give me a big hunk 'o meat and I will revel in its protein-ness.

Is proteinness a word? I think not.

At any rate... my friend then left me high and dry for a few days and I found that it was easy to put off my own plans for someone else. Actually, that was just my own veiled excuse to eat whatever the heck I wanted. And I did.

Then I used Kristin's wedding shower as a crutch. I HAD to eat that CAKE. It would waste! It would mold! It would take over The World!

Then I used my period as an excuse. Yep. I said it. Period. I can eat my weight in anything that is essentially edible during that week. It's pretty hateful.

So, today, I realized that I was tired of coming up with excuses. I needed to take some control. I called that friend who was going to take this journey with me, but they were unavailable. So, I came home and changed clothes and hit the outdoor track that is across the street from my house. I walked a couple of laps and then decided that I needed to try and run a little bit. I need to get my heart rate up. I need to exercise that all important muscle.

So, in starting off slowing, I picked a place that would be my starting point, and I had a goal in my mind for the ending point. I started off slowly and about 1/2 the way through the run, I wanted to stop. I was breathing VERY hard. I wanted to drive home and get in the recliner and not move for another month or so. But, that was not going to help me. (I couldn't drive home either, since I walked to the track. My car was at home. That's just the desperateness of the moment speaking)

So... I kept running. I saw the goal and I would not allow myself to stop until I made it there. When I did make it, I thought about doing the happy dance... but realized that I would have passed out if I tried to do the happy dance at that point. Instead, I kept walking.

As I was nearing that starting point again, I decided I could make another run. I did. I hurt. I wheezed. I sweat. I did all those things that an overweight girl who is running does! And yet... I persevered. I made it back to my ending goal and began to walk again. My breaths were sawing in and out and I hoped that the Firefighters across the street didn't think I was dying and rushed over to perform CPR.

Oh. Hang on there. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad after all.

I digress.

So, I have effectively run the equivalent of one full lap today. Not too shabby for someone who has not run in close to 10 years. I thought that was what I would tell Mr. Fireman if he asked what the Sam Hill I was doing.

Who is Sam Hill anyway?

I came back to the house and drank a gallon of water. Then I called my friend to see if they were interested in working out with some weights. They declined, but said maybe tomorrow.

I'm not waiting on anybody else for this anymore. It is now Woman versus the Scales. I will be triumphant.

Game. On.

It's a Great Dress... but...

I bought this really cool purple tie-dye dress over the weekend. I am planning to wear it to my niece’s rehearsal dinner in July. She tells me I should wear jeans, because she is going to wear jeans. She is going to wear jeans because the groom’s family is bringing in Blue Coast Burrito for the rehearsal dinner.

But, I am going to wear a dress. I can’t wear jeans to the rehearsal dinner. I just can’t. It is not in my make-up to do that. I don’t want her to wear jeans either, but it is her rehearsal and she’s a big girl and she can do what she wants.

Just like me.

Here’s the dress:

And make no mistake... the dress is purple. It is NOT blue. My mother thinks it is blue. My mother has cataracts and SWEARS they do not affect her daily life.

My mother cannot differentiate between colors. It slays me sometimes. To her purple is blue and brown is purple.

At any rate, I am wearing the dress today, because I wanted to make sure I LOVED it as much on as I do on the hanger. I do love it because it is INCREDIBLY comfortable. I doubt that Stacy and whats-his-name from What Not to Wear would like it on me. But I’m okay with that too.

There is only one problem. The dress is made from a silky/smooth material… which is one of the reasons for the comfort level… but my office chair is leather. Which means my booty is sliding all over the office chair. Every time I sit down, I slink a little further than I intended. It is okay to slide my chair BACK from my desk, because my chair has a really tall back and arms. But sliding UP to the desk? That’s another story all together.

If I fall out in the floor, I will laugh hysterically and use it as an excuse to file a worker’s comp claim or something. My attorney bosses will LOVE that!

Taming of the Shrew

Last night Brent, Heidi and I met up at Centennial Park in Nashville for the 22nd Annual Shakespeare in the Park. This year, there are two different performances. The first was Taming of the Shrew and was performed by an apprentice troupe. They did a very fine job.

Everybody just shows up and brings their own chairs, or blankets and picnic baskets, etc. They have some concessions there, but it is just easier to lug everything in from your own kitchen. Some people bring enough to share with their neighbors. That's typically what we do... although we decided at the last minute to make this show. We didn't go all out as we usually do. Still, it is a nice sense of community. Just hangin' with a few hundred of the closest friends you've never met!

These are Brent's feet. I took pictures of both Brent and Heidi, but they made me swear an oath and sign my name in blood that I would not print them ANYwhere. Since I work for an attorney, I didn't want to mess with the legal hassels they would no doubt inflict upon me.

I didn't say I wouldn't post a picture of Brent's feet.

I am not exactly sure this was the context that Ole Will had in mind when he penned his works lo those many, many moons ago. Then again, I doubt tye-dye had been invented then. I love tye-dye. I don't think I'm spelling it correctly. But I love it nonetheless.

That was one confident actor who could perform Shakespeare in bright yellow spandex with hot pink hair.

Heidi and I loved it. We laughed and clapped and thought he was great.

Brent... not so much.

This was intermission. I took this picture so you could understand how many people were there to enjoy the show. And, enjoy it they did. We sat behind the man who started Shakespeare in the Park 22 years ago. He loved that we have been to more than 10 performances over the years. He thought we were so cool. We thought he was so cool because he came up with the idea in the first place.

If it weren't for him... these guys would never have taken a bow before hundreds of people last night.

And speaking of cool... the weather last night was PERFECTION for an outdoor theatrical event. There was very little humidity and the temps were in the low 70s, high 60s. Wonderful. All of our friends who didn't come (you know who you are) really missed a great evening out.

But don't fret. Next weekend through Sept 13 the real Shakespeare troupe will be doing a 3-man show entitled the Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged). I can hardly wait. I will try to let people know when that excursion will be.

Random Thoughts...

1. Why does morning rush hour traffic irritate the smack out of me, but afternoon traffic is not that big a deal? My mood getting out of the car first thing in the morning is most likely directly related to the amount of time it took me to get to work.

2. I passed a man who worked for a landscape company as he was sitting on one of those large commercial-type lawnmowers. It was raining. But, he was wearing a garbage bag over his shoulders. JUST covering his shoulders. It reminded me of my baby brother when he tied a bath towel around his neck and ran through the house acting like Superman. Or Batman. The gentleman on the mower was completely drenched. Except for his shoulders. Those were, apparently, nice and dry.

3. I'm officially a junior in college. However, at this rate, I will be graduating about the same time that I am eligible for Social Security.

4. Sometimes when I wake up in the morning, there is a song in my head. Actually, most days when I wake up in the morning, there is a song in my head. The problem is the song is never the same and completely runs the entire spectrum of music that is out there in the galaxy. Everything from old hymns or praise choruses, to full-out symphonic pieces or Broadway show tunes. There is no rhyme or reason. One day last week, the music from "The Music Man" stayed in my head so long, I was forced to come home and watch the DVD. Twice. It did the trick and I don't have that music in my head. Now, it is "Oklahoma" with the wind sweeping down the plain, and all that.

5. Here's a bit of advice for those people planning to make a video/DVD tape of your most intimate moments. SOMEONE, Somewhere is going to find that footage and happily post it on the internet. They will probably make a lot of money off of it too. So, stop being sooooo surprised, Hollywood, when your private moments are made public. I'm just sayin'....

Kristin's First Bridal Shower!!

My baby's first bridal shower was yesterday. I call her my baby because I don't have any kids of my own... so I adopted my nieces and nephew. Unless they are being bad. Then, I had absolutely nothing to do with them. BUT... when they are on their best behavior... I take all the credit for it. I'm sneaky like that.

Here's my baby when she played dress up bride:

And... here she is now, with her Nana putting on her bridal shower corsage:

She looks happy, doesn't she? She has an unhealthy fear of being stuck by a pin!

We would not have put together such a fine shower/spread without the help of these two beautiful women: Aunt Sisy and my cousin Dawn. They jumped right in the midst of things and cut out heart-shaped sandwiches and arranged fruit, etc. They were mucho fun!!

It was a great day! The only problem was the temperature. It doesn't matter how large your home is... if you have 30 people crammed into a space, the body temp is going to affect your thermostat. If it is in the 90s outside... your AC is going to run CONSTANTLY just to keep the indoors at 80. We broke out a fan to help keep the air flowing, but it was still quite a task! I think the temp in the house finally came down around midnight last night.

But a lovely time was had by all... and Kristin's kitchen is now fully stocked with appliances and cooking utensils. And... some recipes as well. We wanted to give her family recipes she enjoys now as well as some from family members long removed from this world. (Some made as copies from their very own handwriting. Precious)

So... here's to Kristin & David's kitchen! Bon Appetit!

That's what friends are for...

So... after having lived with the Klampet kitchen faucet for a couple of weeks, it was time to take action. Specifically, I wanted the faucet fixed BEFORE the bridal shower here on Saturday. My friend Brent has exchanged faucets of various shapes and sizes and therefore I knew he would be up to the task.

I called him on Monday and made arrangements for him to come out on Tuesday night to determine whether this would be beyond his ken. He called back to tell me our mutual friend, Joel, from Michigan was in town and would be coming along to help. Or jibe at him. Or just generally make us laugh out loud... Joel is really good at that.

After perusing the current faucet situation, and determining that they were more than capable to complete this task... we went off to Lowe's to purchase a new, shiny Price Pfister kitchen faucet. We picked Price Pfister because Brent refused to touch a Moen faucet... he being a Price Pfister man, and all! So we return home with the new faucet and without Brent's tools.

Did I mention that the last thing I said to Brent before he left his house was to bring his tools? Well. I did. Did he respond by telling me he would bring his tools? Yes. He did. Did he actually bring his tools? No. He did not. Was this a problem? Yes, it was. Mostly, because I am a girl and I don't have a good tool set.

This will be remedied in the VERY near future, by the way.

As Brent stood around a watched, Joel crawled up under the sink and began removing the faucet hardware. Wait! Wasn't BRENT changing the faucet and Joel there to help? Yes. That's right. But... it takes a village to raise a child and it took the concerted effort of Brent AND Joel (plus a trip to the older brother's house for a vice grip... because there is apparently a HUGE difference between that and a monkey wrench) to remove the most STUBBORN of bolts from under the sink.

Two hours and many drops of sweat (and another run to Lowe's for some sort of tubing, whose purpose truly evades me) the new faucet was in place. Brent and Joel did a fabulous job and my house won't look so hillbilly-ish come Saturday.

Hillbilly-ish. Is that a word? Well, it is now.

I drink... ergo I pee.

My friends are constantly amazed at my ability to “hold it” for hours at a time. I believe this trait arose from many long-distance trips while my father served in the Air Force. My father was not one to pull over for a small child’s bladder to empty. I developed “holding it” patterns for years. Therefore, I typically go three times a day. Yes. I know. I’m a freak. Get over it.

However, with the pending nuptials of my eldest niece and her beloved, I realized that I really, REEEELLY need to lose some weight. I drink far too many soft drinks and not nearly enough water. So, I am intentionally drinking more water. Because the tap water in our office tastes a little funky, I come in with a large container of water from my house. (NOTE: I am not spending thousands of dollars on bottled water. There’s just no need)

So, every day I am now ingesting 64 ounces of water. Sixty. Four. Ounces.

And even my bladder cannot contain that amount of liquid and “hold it”. This, of course, means now I’m racing to the bathroom every other hour. Seriously. I am going to have chapped hands from all the washing at the sink.

SIDENOTE: Ladies…. What is it about us/you that leaves drops of water EVERYWHERE in the Ladies’ Room? There are water drops all over the counter and on the floor. Do you wash your hands and then just FLING them dry? A little consideration. Please.

So… I drink, ergo I pee. I figure the racing back and forth should be my cardio for the day as well.

Shark Week? Seriously?

I was perusing along my Facebook page over the weekend when I came across my friend Dave’s Facebook status, all excited about the fact that we were in the beginning throes of Shark Week 2009. My friend Dave lives in Orlando with his beautiful wife Vickie, their baby Mason, and baby-in-the-oven… along with Gracie the faithful family Dalmatian. I suppose since Dave & Company live in Florida, one gets more excited about Shark Week than say those of us who are living in middle Tennessee. Sharks just aren’t that big a deal.

I can take or leave Shark Week. I may even be surfing along the television channels and momentarily stop on the Discovery Channel to watch some huge, frenzied eating machine jump out of the surf and chomp down on its prey. Whatever. My problem with Shark Week?

Well. It is my birthday week.

That’s right ladies and germs… my birthday is fast approaching. I am getting older, and it is likely that my brothers will enjoy ribbing me about this fact. It’s okay. I can take that in stride. But… to have my birthday correlate with Shark Week is bothering me somewhat, and I cannot for the life of me, figure out why.

Maybe it is that some sharks have rather silly names. Everyone has heard of the Tiger Shark or the Hammerhead Shark (the only shark I can actually pick out of a line up!) and of course, the Great White Shark (thanks Steven Spielburg). But did you know there was a Cookie Cutter Shark? I imagine it floats around the great blue deep wearing a frilly apron and oven mitts.

Or, there is the Silky Shark. Do you think it longingly wishes it posed for Victoria’s Secret? But, because it over-indulgenced on that baby seal, it has been shunned as being too hippy?

I think I like the Gulper Shark best. I can see it stopping by the closest 7-11 to grab a Big Gulp of freshly brewed seawater.

Maybe it is because these animals are removing the focus of my yearly celebration from… well… me! Or maybe it is because my birthday is now sandwiched between Shark Week and ELVIS Week.

Makes me worry that I have something in common with sharks and Elvis. I swim. I can sing. But I don't want to thrash about and eat baby seals and I don't want to die on the potty of a drug overdose. But that's just me.

So, go ahead and celebrate sharks and Elvis in the days to come. I am going to slink away somewhere with friends and overindulge in chocolate and be lavished upon in my own way.

I have a new camera... and I want desperately to get a book on how to work it. I have read the little manual, but it does not help me UNDERSTAND the camera. I am going to budget to get the Dummies book for SLR digital cameras. It is out there. I have seen it. I will have it. Later.

TMJ... it's not just for breakfast anymore.

I have lived with TMJ since I was a teenager. It developed while I had braces and unfortunately, I was not intelligent enough at the time to know that my orthodontist had created in me a chronic problem that would last for the rest of my life. As a matter of fact, I remember telling him about the problem and he seriously just shrugged his shoulders at me and essentially told me that these things happen sometimes.

Oh... but for the statute of limitations...

At any rate, I have lived with popping and clicking jaws for more than 20 years now and that has really been the only issue I have had. Until a few months ago.

I began to experience what I first thought was an earache. I went to the doctor, who determined my ears were just fine. My next thought was that I was beginning to have problems with my wisdom teeth.

Yes, America... there are still adults in the world who have kept their wisdom teeth. Mine came in without any problem... straight and true. I even have an extra one for good measure, that has never come through, but makes an appearance whenever an x-ray is taken and all the dentists and hygienists ooh and ahh over it and I feel very, very special. At least for those 30 minutes of teeth-cleaning.

However, before I could get to the dentist to determine if my wisdom teeth were doing me in, I developed almost a numbness in the cheek muscles of the right side of my face. Back to the doctor, who was afraid it was the beginning of Bell's Palsy and therefore started me on steroids and treating me for same.

As long as the steroids were flowing... I was doing fine. However, once the dosage started wearing off, the ache was back with a vengeance. Therefore... back to the doctor I went. I was then referred to an ENT to make sure this was not a neurological problem and the first thing he said upon his examination was.... you guessed it... TMJ!!!

Seriously? I have lived with this for many, many years without actual PAIN. But he likened it to having a trick knee that would just one day go out on you. Then he patted me on the head, referred me to a TMJ specialist (who did not take my insurance and whose 3 hour consultation was going to cost me $250) and sent me on my way.

Just to rule out the wisdom tooth mystery (because I really do like to dabble in my own self-diagnosis - just so when I am right I can point my fingers at the closest physician and do my I-told-you-so dance) I headed to the dentist and determined that my wisdom teeth were just fine (thankyouverymuch - oh you naysayers) and this was indeed a TMJ problem.

My new dentist told me he could fit me for a bite guard that would help me in the evenings, but it would take a few weeks to determine what, if any, my insurance would pay for the cost. (The answer... big, fat NOTHING). In the meantime, I could avail myself of an over-the-counter bite guard from Walgreens.

After standing in the aisle and reading all the labels (and how you were NOT to use them if you have TMJ... Don't.Do.It!) I picked out a brand and proceeded home to boil it and bite down on it and create my own mold.

I used it for a few weeks while I waited to see what my insurance would pay and am now using it in order to save up the money to purchase a real one. (These things ain't cheap, honey!) But the funny part of this story happened a couple of weeks ago. At some point during my REM cycle, I apparently was having nothing else to do with the bite guard because when I woke up in the morning it was not in my mouth.

I had no memory of removing it during the night. I looked around and finally found it hiding out under my pillow.

Seriously.

The next morning, I woke up with it no longer in my mouth... but clutched in my hand.

What the...?

The last time this happened I woke up and found the appliance was not in my mouth and nowhere could I find it in the bed. It was not on the bedside table. I stripped the bed and it was nowhere to be found.

Because it was on the floor, on the other side of the room.

It is probably a good thing I am still single.

Is it Munchkin Land??

Recently a dear friend experienced gall bladder surgery. Having already survived that surgery (my one and only) I made sure to visit with her to generally be a beacon of shining light... as well as to give her sister a break from staying at the hospital. My friend had a pretty rough go of it as her gall bladder was gangrene!!! Who knew that was even possible? She certainly outdid my gall bladder... as my surgeon only named it "the worst gall bladder EVER". He may have passed out if he'd been the doctor who removed my friend's organ.

At any rate... we had plenty of company at the hospital with various friend stopping by and checking on Lou and making her feel oh-so-much-better with just their very presence. As we were taking our leave, our friend Joni walked out with me, we said farewell in the parking lots and headed on to our respective homes.

There had been a really bad wreck on the interstate as an 18-wheeler apparently forgot how big he was and ran his load under an underpass and subsequently got stuck... closing down the interstate! I knew better than to go home that way. So, I thought to take the long way home, through the dark and winding roads.

About 10 minutes into the trip the wind began to blow as if Dorothy and Toto were flying by. Because it was already dark outside (and because tree branches were now hitting my car) I called the parental units to see if there were any warnings out that I needed to be aware of.

Sound of phone ringing and the Maternal Unit answering:

Mom: Hello?

Me: Mom? Hey... are there any weather warnings out I need to be aware of?

Mom: Where are you?

Me: I am driving home from visiting Lou in the hospital, but it has gotten really windy and there is some pretty bad lightning flashing. Are there any warnings?

Mom: I don't know. I'm not watching TV.

Pause for effect

Me: Can you ask Dad?

The Paternal Unit is always watching TV. He knows EVERYTHING.

Mom: Jack... are there any weather warnings? Mumbling response. He's not watching the local news. He's watching a ballgame.

Me: COULD YOU TURN THE CHANNEL TO SEE IF I'M ABOUT TO BE BLOWN AWAY BY A TORNADO?!

Dad: Well... there's something going on around Summit. Where are you?

Me: I just left Summit! Is it a tornado?

Dad: You might want to stop and go back before you hit that bad weather. They are saying there are strong straight-line winds. You know those can be pretty damaging.

Me: I'M HITTING THE BAD WEATHER NOW!!! Am I going to DIE?!

After about three minutes of explaining what I was doing and why I was in a car in bad weather, and didn't I have enough sense not to go out in that weather, even though the weather was perfectfly FINE when I left the hospital, I hung up the phone and prayed.

Ahhh... those parental units. What would we do without them?

I didn't die. I called my friend Joni who was also on the road, and whose home I was going to pass before reaching my home. Joni was just as concerned. The stoplights had all gone out as well as the electricity... but I knew I could at least reach shelter at her cabin at the farm.

Two hours later and the storms had passed and I made my trek home safe and sound.

Yes, I know... it's been a while...

I cannot believe I have not updated since the Derby. Goodness Gracious! We made it through the Preakness and Belmont without a Triple Crown Winner - AGAIN!!! -- since the last time I posted. I PROMISE... I will do better!!!!

I will blame my status on the fact that I have gone back to college, and was therefore studying and generally doing every piece of extra credit work available in order to pass the class. What class? American History, part Uno. (I had three general ed classes yet to fulfill - and two history courses are included in that packet).

I passed the History class. Actually, I didn't just pass it - I ACED it - which made me do the happy dance for days and exclaim my good fortune to any living creature that stood still long enough. The bunnies living in the backyard were so excited for me, they went forth and multiplied! I was a bit jealous... as I was unable to celebrate in the same way. But that did not hamper my celebratory spirit!

Instead, I signed up for a summer class - Appreciation of Theatre. I Aced that bad boy too! I only had to write one paper for that class and was very pleased with my resulting grade. I also had to read several plays - and be able to understand the difference between a fly loft and a flat. Since I have built flats and helped install a fly loft in my not-too-distant past... well, let's say I was happy to have taken one more step on the way to bringing up that pitiful grade point average I had when I was much younger and less apt to actually attend class.

So far for the fall, I will be taking a communications course as well as a course in Classical Mythology. That's going to be some fun reading! I am pretty pumped about it. I'd like to get that last History course in too (American History, Part Deux) but I am not sure that I can get it online. If not... there may be some discussion as to my ability to change my work schedule in order to actually sit in a classroom with 30 or so students who will be young enough that I could have given birth to them.

How interesting, and yet completely frightening would that be? Hmmmm????

135th Kentucky Derby

Yes, it is the first Saturday in May, which means that everything stands still while I watch hours upon hours of pre-Derby events and attempt to pick the winner before "My Old Kentucky Home" is played by the U of L band. I picked the winner last year, but not this year.

I let my emotions rule my choice of horse this year. Yes, I wanted General Quarters to win the big race, mostly because he was a beautiful horse, and who could root against a 75 year old retired school principal who is the owner, trainer, groomer, etc. not to win?

Maybe the sheik. But his horses traveled around the world to not fare all that well.

I actually considered picking Mine that Bird, for the simple fact that I think Calvin Borell is a fun jockey to watch. But I looked at the odds and stuck with my emotional favorite.

And the unthinkable happened... the longshot won by a landslide and while my pick crossed the finish line 10th in the race... there is something extremely wonderful about a longshot flying by all the big shots and winning the roses.

Smells like chicken... or not

I walked into the back door of my home today and began frantically searching for my parents, whom I could only assume had died of smoke inhalation, as the house smelled quite like a fire had just recently been extinguished.

I was wrong.

Instead, the maternal unit had started boiling chicken for a chicken salad she had planned and then made the mistake of beginning to read a good book. The book was good enough for her to become so engrossed in it that she forgot all about the chicken.

You would think that the smell of scorched and burning chicken would bring her from her stupor. However, you must remember, if you didn't already know this, that the maternal unit has no sense of smell.

The paternal unit apparently does not either... unless of course he was smoking his pipe, in which case he might be off the hook. Once the rolling black smoked started pouring from the kitchen, the maternal unit ran to turn off the stove and open all the windows to air out the house.

This happened three hours before I came home. The smell was still VERY strong when I arrived.

Plan B was to make more chicken (yeah!) with mixed veggies and baked potatos.

And bread. She made bread too. Cut and sliced pieces of bread - buttered them and put them under the broiler.

And. Forgot. Them.

When I arrived in the kitchen to see dark smoke rising from the oven... well... let's just say that the smell of burning bread is just about the only thing that will cover the smell of scorched and burning chicken.

I am pretty sure that's why she burned the bread.

At least that's our story... and we're sticking to it!

Yes... it has been awhile

Sorry for not posting anything in so long. My excuse? I'm a college student again. Yes, that's right. After MANY years away from the classroom, I have returned. I never completed my Bachelor's degree. I have an Associate's degree... but I always wanted to finish completely.

I must admit that I was rather terrified at the thought of returning to homework assignments, essays and textbooks. So, in order to ease my transition back to that of higher learning - I decided to take only one class and it would be an online class. American History (I have 3 general ed classes to complete).

(Okay, I would have taken more classes, but the tuition costs are outrageous - and I could not afford more than one class)

My initial observations are that college students really don't pay very close attention to their work. Seriously. Because this is an online class, our weekly assignments consist of posting on a discussion board a 250 word "essay" that covers the reading text and answers the teacher's questions for the week. The instructions state that the posts need to be AT LEAST 250 words. This means it CAN be more, but must be at least that many.

For the first half of the semester - not one other student made it to the 250 word count. My first post? 420 words. The word count for some other students has finally inched up to that number, but it has taken quite some time to get there.

Another observation? College students today apparently do not know how to use a spell check function key... and as a result, their spelling is horrendous. Seriously. They also rarely complete a sentence or an actual thought. There are fragments galore throughout their postings.

We have two essay papers that we have to write. I was shaking in my proverbial boots over this aspect of college life. The last time I wrote an essay paper, I typed it on a Brother typewriter with a handy-dandy bottle of White-Out next to it. I drafted it long-hand and used index cards for bibliography notes!! There was no such thing as the internet - and I realized that I was indeed a rather old college student!

So, for the first essay paper I walked over to the library and checked out a couple of books. Yes! Books! Why? Because I feel comfortable in a library. I like books. I wanted my reference page to hold more than just internet website addresses. I wanted my instructor to KNOW I went to the library and READ a book to assist in the writing of my paper.

Our instructions were to have at LEAST (there's that term again) two pages of double-spaced writing that compared and contrasted the works/passions of two 18th century evangelists. You cannot possibly do that in JUST two pages! You have to show some background. My paper ended up at six pages, which included the reference page. I received a perfect score.

Our second paper was on the Emancipation Proclamation. I went back to the library. I checked out four books. I researched and read until my eyes were crossing. Now, I have just submitted my paper (a couple weeks early) and it came in at nine pages total. I am hopeful for another good grade.

I was never a good college student before, but I am digging it now! I will try to post here more often, now that the rest of my class will consist of simple weekly assignments, any extra credit work I want to do (I have already take a trip to the Stones River Battlefield) and the final exam.

Stay tuned!

Happy Birthday Mom - stay away from the Liquid Plumber

My mother turned 76 today. She almost didn't turn 76+ one day. Why? Apparently 76 year olds don't bother with instructions when it comes to using a drain cleaner. I am not certain if she was using Liquid Plumber or Drain-o... but she was attempting to unstop her bathroom sink, which had been running slow.

She chose to do this task on her birthday today. Don't ask me why. She poured the material in and failed to complete the task, which is to also pour water into the drain. Why did she not complete the task? She was busy multi-tasking.

So she was quite surprised and even shocked when a noxious fume began to billow out from the drainpipe. She was then overcome with the fumes and became light-headed and dizzy and stumbled from the bathroom area to yell at my 75 year old father to come help.

This was probably her way of saying "If I'm gonna die by noxious fumes... I'm taking you with me!" My father entered the bathroom that was now as foggy as good old London Town and proceeded to open the windows and run the water in the sink.

They have set up a fan in the bathroom in order to un-fumigate the back portion of the house. I have asked my mother to wait until we have completed the paperwork we are dealing with to refinance the house before she decides to knock herself off - and take Dad with her.

Nothing but good times ahead.

Happy Birthday Mom.

Ranting in the New Year

I recently had some friends comment that they missed my blogging, why wasn't I blogging, when was I blogging again and I had to be honest and say that there wasn't anything in my brain that I felt was blog worthy. There really were a few things in my brain, but I knew if I really blogged about them people would become upset with me and in the spirit of peace, I chose to keep my big mouth shut.

So, I have a few things I can blog about for a moment to make up for it. There is nothing like starting out the new year with some insightful rants!

1. What is it with smokers? Really? I don't get it. My mother used to be a smoker. My aunt and uncle and older brother smoked. I smoked for the look of being rebellious when I was in high school and the first year of college. Then I went back to a high school football game (because I was a college student and therefore much cooler than you... thankyouverymuch) and I came upon some kids who were smoking, and I saw how completely UNcool they looked and I realized I looked equally UNcool and that was the end of my smoking career. So, I never had to actually fight the addiction of smoking or nicotine or any of that mess.

I will now agree that my previous statement means I really have no frame of reference... but honestly... it is 3 degrees in Nashville right now. The windchill is like -5 degrees and there are people STANDING OUTSIDE SMOKING. I know because I can see them. My office has a wall of windows that looks to an area where people frequent for their smoke breaks. HELLO.... Frostbite much? There are hungry and homeless people who are dying because of exposure to this weather and you are voluntarily standing there inhaling a substance so horrible that it could kill you? Seriously?

2. Reality TV. I can be as bad as the next person when it comes to a television show I enjoy watching. I even enjoy some reality TV - The Amazing Race is probably my favorite. But some reality TV really gets to me.

American Idol. I understand the concept. I enjoy the talent when I get to watch the talent. But the audition process kills me. I fear there is such a desperate need to be "famous" or to have some "exposure" to that claimed 15 minutes of fame that people simply throw all caution to the wind and make fools of themselves. The answer that the AI faithful will give me is to simply not watch the show. So, I don't. I have probably seen a total of 90 minutes of American Idol in the history of its airtime. I know, I know. I live in my small mind. I just don't find watching train wrecks that entertaining. Maybe its just me.

Probably why I also refuse to watch The Bachelor or the Bachelorette or any of their spin-offs. When was it a good idea to COMPETE with 30 other people for one person's affection? In the REAL WORLD a woman who learns a man she is involved with is even looking at someone else, she has a real problem with said man. She NEVER stands in line to win his affection. Or, if she does, she certainly cannot BELIEVE that said relationship has a chance of going anywhere. Hello... Communicable disease?

3. I'm a college student. Again. I am taking a history class. American history. I have to read things that are important and I need to retain them. I have to write papers and essays and read books and write papers and I wonder if I have lost my mind. Most likely have. Doubtful that I will locate it in the near future. Especially if it is not labeled "American History: Location of the Mind". And can we talk about the high cost of college? Why am I only taking one class, you ask? Because I can only AFFORD one class. Very sad.

4. I am in my mid-40s and I still succumb to peer pressure. I was certain that would change as I aged. Apparently not so. Enough said.

Things that make you go ... EWWwww...

So, as it 'Tis the Season for gift buying, and therefore gift ideas, I did a search for the phrase Candy Dispenser on Google... thinking that might be a cool gift for someone who has everything.

I found the same candy dispenser that I received from a friend, but alas, they were no longer in stock. So I continued the search and found this:

Candy Dispenser: Same sex toys, 50% less, free shipping.

Now I need to take a shower 'cause I feel so yuckky...

Probably not gonna buy anyone a candy dispenser now.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

It’s only Rock-N-Roll, but I like it…

I am a musical girl. I come from a musical family. My mother taught piano and played piano and/or organ for almost my entire life. My father sings bass. My older brother can make music with just about any stringed instrument. He also sings bass. My younger brother played drums and sings in the tenor/baritone range. I play piano, flute, piccolo and sing in the soprano/alto range. I can sing tenor too… but that requires me to read the music instead of just sing along.

I love music of all forms. From classical orchestral arrangements to big band/jazz. I love the blues – Stevie Ray Vaughn or B.B. King. I can appreciate the Doors and Janis Joplin. I love Led Zeppelin and Kiss. I also love praise and worship music. In concert, I have experienced Elvis Presley, Jethro Tull, Heart, Kiss, Bon Jovi, Eric Clapton, Bob Dylan, CS&N, Aerosmith, Duran Duran, Michael Bolton, Motley Crue, Tom Petty, Steven Curtis Chapman, Travis Cottrell… the list goes on!

I also have a penchant for musical theater. I have seen Yul Brynner in The King & I. I saw Richard Harris perform Camelot. I have experienced the Phantom of the Opera at least five times now. I love Sweeney Todd and South Pacific and Oklahoma, where the wind comes sweeping down the plain!

Needless to say… when the music flows, there is some portion of my body that is keeping time.

On Labor Day, my body was somewhat confined due to the fact that I was driving my car. As AC/DC was offering Dirty Deeds – Done Dirt Cheap, I was tapping my left foot to the beat of the bass drum. My left hand was firmly placed on the steering wheel and my right hand was keeping beat with the snare drum on my gearshift.

I was enjoying myself so much that the needle on my speedometer was inching far too close to the 90mph mark. I laughed to myself as I was backing off the speed, but my right hand never missed a beat… and as the music crescendo’d, so did the force of my right hand. To the point that I have apparently broken a blood vessel and/or severely bruised the index finger of my right hand.

Seriously. I can barely bend my index finger and the joint is quite swollen. And a lovely shade of blue… with a touch of deep purples here and there.

Deep Purple… I like them too.

Ping Pong? Seriously?

I will admit that I am an average red-blooded American. My ping-pong exposure is minimal. It has been relegated to an occasional church youth function where one leg of the table is shorter than another and there is a hymnal attempting to level the playing field. I may have watched an entire match between a sibling and our maternal unit. My attention span never lasted as long as the match.

I have never felt compelled to sit and watch an entire ping-pong (or table tennis) match in my life. The fact that I experienced five minutes of said event last night as I watched the Olympics is saying a great deal.

Those are five minutes of my life that I will never get back.

I found myself chuckling – okay, it was an all out guffaw – at the table tennis athletes. These were people who take this sport seriously. I mean SERIOUSLY. They shifted their weight back and forth on the balls of their feet in eager anticipation of their opponent’s next move. They paced back and forth the length of the table. So what if that takes about two steps… those were two EAGER steps, I’m telling you! They were mopping sweat off their brows as if they just finished running a marathon.

They sweat! Playing ping-pong. Seriously.

There was crouching and angled shots and backhands and an entire room FULL of spectators! An entire room of people, under no visible means of duress, watched ping-pong. For more than five minutes. There were cheers and gasps of horror at the appropriate moments.

I think these may have been the same people who crowded in and watched badminton earlier in the games.

Badminton. The sport my grandmother could play. Before her hip surgery. A sport that, no matter how hard you hit the birdie, it is still going to drift lazily over the net. The sport that reminds me of the Bugs Bunny cartoon. You know the one… Baseball Bugs. Bugs takes five minutes to wind up his pitch, throws the ball, and yet it moves in slow motion over the plate. Badminton is a lot like that. Overhead arch swings, lower digs, smack downs just appear to be a waste of energy for an apparatus that will still simply drift over the net.

We are losing softball and baseball in the Olympic games; yet we will see plenty of badminton and ping-pong in 2012. Well, at least I’ll have four years to work up some excitement.

I might be older, and yet...

I believe the week before one's birthday may be a precarious time to submit oneself to an eye examination. Each annual visit finds me worried that it will be "The Year" that I find myself relegated to bifocals.

My eye doctor is extremely disappointed in me still, as I am currently not in need of said lenses - and she has been wearing them for a few years now.

Stinks to be her.

Whilst my older brother keeps getting older, my younger (baby) brother continues to enjoy taunting me. Each new birthday brings about a sense of expectation and wonder of what he will say this year. He turned 40 this year. 40!! 4-0. It was a day in which the angels wept and I rejoiced.

Until today, when he reminded me that I was closer to DEATH than he.

Whatever.

At least I still have my wits and my eyesight going for me. Unlike my maternal unit, who suffers from cataracts, but refuses to do anything about them. A legitimate fear brought about by her friend who actually lost one eye due to a botched cataract surgery. (Insert Katy dialogue here)

"Is she able to see okay out of the glass eye?"

There was much laughter about her faux pas until we witnessed the maternal unit walk across the floor and bend down to pick something up. She apparently having seen a "speck" of misplaced material of some sort. What was it she attempted to pick up and throw away? It was something she had attempted to pick up and throw away on a number of occasions, and she has been unsuccessful each time.

The item?

A sunbeam. A ray of light from the window.

(sigh)

Happy Birthday to me.

But God...

It has been a few years since my friend Carey Dean (who is at fault for just about anything that goes wrong in my life), has given me an assignment. In the old days, Carey would wake before the crack of dawn, and blame the Lord for it. In those moments, he would be greatly inspired and would do his best to inspire the rest of us on his ministry team. It worked for the most part.

However, there are two things that stand out in my mind that I didn't just jump right on board with. The first was a video marathon of a one man act depicting maybe his death and journey into eternity. I really am fuzzy on the details, because I just was NOT impressed with the presentation. I thought the script fell on the cheesy side and that the acting was mediocre at best. We came to the end of the drama (thank goodness... I thought) and I turned to my friend Carey, who was at my right side, but behind me, ready with a sarcastic remark -- and he sat there with tears streaming down his cheeks because he had been so moved. I quickly shut my mouth and moved on.

The second time was a fascinating study through Watchman Nee's Authority and Submission. This was brought to us by Carey after his back surgery and subsequent hours lying flat on his back. It is amazing what can happen when you are confined to your home for such long periods of time. So... Authority & Submission it was. To say I was excited about learning how to be submissive is a bit off the mark. I will admit that I learned many things that have stayed with me for all these years... and to my credit, I was really good with everything for about the first four or five chapters. But by chapter seven, I was done. I don't remember if I literally threw my book across the room, but I am certain I did so figuratively.

So, when Carey was gracious enough to listen to me whine (again) the other night and gave me a new assignment... I couldn't help but enter my thought process with a little timidity. But this study (which is ongoing) has been a much-needed exercise to my worn out soul. My assignment was to do a word study on the phrase "but God". But I felt I still needed to perform a penance from my bad thoughts of W. Nee... I didn't go online for my research, but spent about an hour going through my hard cover exhaustive concordance. And... I will spend more time still.

The great thing about my friendship with Carey and his family, is that once you have been shown a path... the journey is yours to take. You can take whatever exit ramp or off-road path you like. I am certain that my path will not mirror the Dean path... but we may see some of the same sights. Studying the Word with them is like standing next to each other at the rim of the Grand Canyon and relating what you see. It will be the same TRUTH overall, but from wonderfully unique angles and perspectives.

Since this is still a study in progress... I will only share what my initial impressions are at this point.

I began by simply listing the verses as I came across them in the concordance. Then I went through the scriptures and made notes of the meat of the verse. It became apparent to me that a good majority of the scriptures could be seen in a negative light. Phrases like "But God did not deliver; But God will wound; But God will rebuke; But God will destroy" would simply add fuel to the fire that constantly burns at the feet of the non-believer. And I have to admit that I was not in a great frame of mind when I started this... which is why the negative was probably brought to my mind. And then Truth reared its head.

God is not a negative God. That is not His attribute. (Something I learned in another Bible study with Mr. Dean - but with Tozer - that I enjoyed much more) If He is forbidding me to boast - that is not a negative action, though the word "forbid" is negative on its own merit. It is because of His great love for me that I am forbidden to boast. It is by His great love that He is my judge. That He demonstrates His love.

It is by His great love that He shows me I am not to call any man unclean. I have to admit that in the past few days, that has not just been my temptation... but my reality.

But God calls me to live by faith the Truth of His promises.

And so... the study continues...

Graduations and vacation!

Yes, both my middle nieces graduated this spring. It was a great experience to watch them both walk boldly across their respective stages and grasp the future and move on to the next part of the journey of their lives.

Then, it was time to head to Florida with Katy and her friend Shelby. (A trip for Allison and her family is scheduled for the fall) We left Sunday after church and this was a huge contrast to my expedition with Kristin & Kaylie a couple of years before.

First big difference - amount of luggage. When we took this trip with K&K in 06 - the car was packed so thick that I could not see out the back window. They took EVERYTHING they owned. They took Dresses!! They took 15 pair of sunglasses! It was aMAYzing!

K&S each had one piece of luggage. One. Piece of luggage. I had no problem seeing out the back of the car. There were no dresses and each had one pair of sunglasses. Hilarious. The trip started off great with my meeting Shelby's parents before I scampered off with the girls down 65 South. They were nice people and seemed to believe I was not going to turn into an ax-murderer. Or a slave-trader.

We hit the road and made our first stop just on this side of the state line for lunch... at which time Katy realized she needed to make a quick stop at a drug store and so we were delayed about 15 minutes. Then we made our second stop at the Alabama rest stop (with the big rocket) for a potty break and the first of the gift giving extravaganza.

We were tooling along rather nicely until we got just south of Birmingham where we (and everyone else on 65S) came to a complete stop because of a car accident. We pulled over towards the median to let emergency vehicles through and rolled down the windows and parked the car. Since we were stopped - it was time for gift two... the paddle ball! (It really doesn't take much to make people happy)

We stopped for gas and food in Troy, Alabama (with more gift giving) and then not again until we actually hit the beach! We rolled out of the car, in through the condo, out the sliding doors and onto the beach while the sun was just beginning to set! It was lovely. Great winds coming off the Gulf and lots of people still strolling up and down the sand. We spent a few minutes there enjoying the moment and stretching our legs before we went back to the condo to unload the car.

Then we sat down and went over the rules:

1) We don't do anything illegal. Which means we don't consume alcohol (they are both under 21) and we don't purchase or consume tobacco products (again, under 21)

2) We don't consume any illegal substances whatsoever.

3) We don't drink ANYthing that someone else hands us. We drink only our drinks or something we watch a waiter prepare for us.

4) We don't go into a boy's condo and boys don't come into ours. We can talk with boys at the pool or beach, but no going into another's area.

They were great with the rules and we hit the nearest Publix for perishable foods then came back to crash. I had the bedroom - they had the sofa that pulls out into a bed. They went back to the beach before bed and I crashed as soon as they returned.

We spent the days at the pool and at the beach and we spent the evenings playing putt putt or hanging on the beach. It was good times. We ate at Pineapple Willy's on Monday night - because you just CAN'T go there without eating at Pineapple Willy's. Then we ate at the Boatyard - which just was not a great experience. Katy & I had enjoyed it the summer before with all the rest of the family, but this time the food just was not great. The scenery is pretty and it made for a fabulous shot of the two girls - but we should have gone to the Treasure Ship (another fam fave) instead.

We went to the maze - and I won! Of course! The girls even decided that it would be two against one. The youth against the old lady and they entered the maze a full 60 seconds before me. I left the maze a full 7 minutes before them. It was great fun. I hope that when I am 80 I will still enjoy that family tradition. Of course, the walker will slow me down, but that's okay!

We did a little shopping before we left town. Not a whole lot. We all got henna tattoos on our right ankle of three stars. Katy had planned to get a tattoo similar to her sister's (who got hers here two years prior) but she lost a bet with her father as to who would win American Idol. So, we had to settle for henna ones with glitter over them from Alvin's Magic Island. Big fun there!

That was our trip. It was a lot of fun and without any drama. Plenty of memories to go around for a while. Now back to the grind of our daily lives!

I just keep getting older...

... my kids are too quickly reaching adulthood - and the perils that lay in wait for them.

My Katy has attended her senior prom. In just 12 more days (Good Grief!) she will be a high school graduate! How can this be?!

Where is the little linebacker that was born oh so many years old? I always called her a linebacker because as a toddler, she was just rough and ready! Throwing her weight around and not kow-towing to anyone!

As an infant, she was quite a handful. Literally! She reFUSED to go to sleep... fearing, I am certain, of what she would miss. It fell on me, more often than not, to get her to sleep. I would wrap her up tightly in a blanket and take her into an area of the house that was the darkest and quietest and walk with her until she finally gave in to the sleep that was so desperately needed.

She had problems with her eyes as a little one and was given glasses to wear even before she was completely potty-trained - I think. She was never one to suffer those glasses for long and she had corrective surgery that took care of the problem.

Wasn't that just yesterday? I am certain that little one should not look as grown as this now:

Ah well... I think I'm off to purchase a rocker at Cracker Barrell to ease my way into senility!

I'll Have Fries with That

Well, it is official. I have been minus an organ for one year now. It is hard to believe that my gall bladder has been gone for that length of time... and I can still think fondly of my hospital stay and surgery experience.

That says a lot coming from a chicken like me!

So, how does one celebrate the one year anniversary of the removal of one's gall bladder? Why, one heads to the nearest Burger King and orders a Number One Meal - medium sized - with a Coke! (That's a Quarter Pounder with cheese, for those who don't know)

You see... I have not had a hamburger (or red meat for that matter) in the past year. I have nibbled on a meatball in sauce a couple of times, but I don't think that really counts. I have not had a steak, or roast, or anything else that resembles a cow.

Well. Milk. I drink milk. But that's not the same.

So, I hit the LaVergne Burger King at about 3:30 on the 18th (the official day) and placed my order. Did I want the whole meal, or just the burger? Well... if I'm going to do this - let's go all out!

I ripped into that bag like I had been fasting for 40 days. The fries were gone by the time I got back to my house. Then, it was time for the real deal - and my teeth sank into that meat and the ANGELS SANG!!! I had forgotten what a charbroiled hunk of meat tasted like. Sigh.

The even greater joy is that this dash to debauchery didn't ripped my tummy up. Some would argue that this means I can indulge in the joy of fast food burgers to my heart's content.

Alas - I believe I will leave it to a celebration on April 18. But at least now I have something to look forward to during tax season!!!

You Could Grow Crabs Somewhere

Girlfriends are great. They lift you up when you are down. They humble you when you are proud. They have insight beyond wisdom and they will eat chocolate with you until you puke.

I have had my share of great gal pals during my life. When I was in elementary school, my buds were Laura and Connie. We went through school together from fourth grade on. We were all SHS Bulldogs and proud of it. We parted ways once college hit - although I did have a number of classes with Laura. But Laura got married and we lost touch. Connie went to work while I stayed in school and we lost touch for a number of years, but we see each other now on a weekly basis and I am honored with her abiding friendship.

My best friend Mary (that is her official title - because whenever I reference her name, it is always "my best friend Mary") did not come into my life until I had graduated high school. She is a year older than me and already had a year of college under her belt when tragedy brought us together. Her father was the youth director at the church I attended. He was killed much too early in life in a motorcycle accident and I met Mary while we were both grieving his loss. Hers being much greater than mine, of course.

Mary is a person who you can go for months without talking to and pick right up where you left off. Mary lives in another state, married a great guy and named her only child after Jerry's grandmother and me. How cool is that?! The family was in town for Easter recently and I got to spend some time with them. I have determined Mary & Jerry are the BEST.PARENTS.EVER because Lora Cathryn has turned out so well. I'd like to take LOADS of credit for this by way of some sort of osmosis... but that really isn't very fair. Needless to say - if the phone rings in the middle of the night and it is Mary - I will do whatever needs to be done. No questions asked. No hesitations. Done. And I know Mary would say the same for me.

Lisa was my first roomate after college. We spent a couple of years laughing hysterically at life and people we watched do stupid things. We lived in an apartment in the middle floor of a complex. That was a big mistake. Mostly because we were certain the middle-eastern man below us was a terrorist manufacturing some sort of explosive device (What in the world can one person do with THAT.MUCH.FERTILZER?) and drug dealers living above us. (Are they playing FOOTBALL up there?!) We were grateful for the night that Lisa heard something scratching outside her bedroom window and found a huge extension ladder leading to the floor above. Garbage bags filled with who-knows-what peppered the ground and people made their way up and down - and then we never heard or saw those people again. Lisa is now a school teacher and works with community theater here - and is a darn fine actress!

Lou and Amy fall in BFF category because of their wit and ability to roll with the punches. We make annual treks either to the mountains or the beach for girl time away from the hassles of work and other monotonous daily grinds. We accept each other for what we are and we move on ahead. We can and do disagree at times, but we typically don't let those disagreements snag our friendships.

And then... there is Requelle.

Requelle is a girl that when I first met I never thought would be in the BFF category. Mostly because we are both controllers and we were thrown together (the fault of Carey Dean - as are most things in life) in a working environment that really embraced unity and teamwork. That looked great on paper, but in the real world - there were two chefs in the kitchen. Both wielding large knives at the other one. Both trying not to kill Carey Dean on any given day... for any given reason.

We worked together a good year before we really started to click. We finally began to see the other's strong points and weak points and how we could best relate to each other. There were plenty of times of asking and receiving forgiveness and we lived through productions and conventions and hours upon hours of light settings! Once you have been down that road - you are BFFs whether you intended it or not.

One of the best parts of our relationship - as far as I am concerned - is our ability to laugh together and dream together. If I can make Req laugh until she pukes - I consider my day a huge success! If I can say or do something that embarrasses the smack out of her - the bonus comes from watching her blush - followed by laughter that will make her hurl. I love that part of my relationship.

We are two single girls who have never been married - but would still like that privilege. We have conjured our individual dream men (Emerson and Jonas) and what traits we would like said men to embody. Mine would be a tall, wealthy rancher in Montana (horse ranch, BTW, not cows) who already has kids and doesn't want any more. Said children are pre or newly teens who love me just because I'm me.

Req doesn't share this dream. She needs to be near a large body of salt water - and Utah's lake just doesn't count.

While we were talking about this the other day, I was attempting to figure out what my saltwater friend could do in the wilds of Montana and still be happy. I remembered that everytime she goes home to Maryland, she returns with pounds and pounds of crabmeat, which she then turns into some sort of delicacy that I simply don't get behind. But that's just me. It was this thought process that forced the following statement from my mouth:

"You could grow crabs somewhere"

There was the shortest breath of a pause before we both burst into laughter and I visualized Requelle pulling her car over to save her upholstery from a fate worse than... well... you get the pictures.

Best Friends Forever.