Anybody got some baby carps?

I saw an article on this in the Sunday paper and then used the power of the internet to find this!



Dang! Who knew this was what was I was missing by living in a small town in Tennessee!

Reckon I could mosey on down to a creek somewhere and find me some minnows and get the same results? Or how about a bucket of live shiners from the bait shop?

I am now on the wrong side on the law.

Internets, I have something else that I must confess before you…

On Tuesday morning from 8:15 until nearly high noon, the police in my fair city had an APB out for me.

They had their eyes peeled for my white SUV and were checking tag numbers and finally they apprehended me at the local Church of the Nazarene. At 5’ 2”, this criminal soccer mom posed such a threat that it took TWO police cruisers to handle her!

What horrible thing did Nelson’s Mama do you ask? Why she STOLE GASOLINE from her favoritest convenience store in the world. And how do they repay her loyalty for EIGHT YEARS of buying her GAS ALMOST EXCLUSIVLY FROM SAID STORE?

Why, they CALLED THE AUTHORITIES.

On Tuesday morning, in a driving rain, Nelson’s Mama, SWIPED her trusty BP card at the gas pump. She noticed that it hesitated, but in a little while the numbers went to zero and she turned the pump on and happily got into her DRY vehicle.

When the pump clicked off, Nelson’s Mama, hopped out, and did her thing, AND DROVE OFF.

You see, this station is a PRE-PAY only station, but, apparently the new BIMBO interprets the rules as she sees fit. She CLEARED the pump and let Nelson’s Mama buy gas that she needed to GO IN AND SIGN FOR – but ONLY the Bimbo knew that, NOT NELSON’S MAMA.

SO, THE BIMBO KINDLY CALLED THE POLICE, HOW SWEET.

Not only did they stop Nelson’s Mama, but they also made her SURRENDER her driver’s license and then ESCORTED HER IMMEDIATELY to the gas station and WALKED HER IN so that she could pay for her STOLEN GAS.

That she didn’t MEAN TO STEAL IN THE FIRST PLACE!

My little brother...

On this day in 1974 my brother Jay was born. He was like a doll baby to me; he was tiny, perfect and beautiful. As a twelve year old little girl you couldn’t have asked for anything neater.

Poor child, I drug him with me everywhere, he went to the roller-rink and the lake. I even took him to cruise town - by five he had circled the court square in my hometown more times than any self respecting seventeen year old boy.

Jay was only seven when I got married and I missed him desperately, my heart yearned for him in a way that I now understand. It’s a little like I feel when I’m away from my girls for too long – maybe not quite so intense, but close.

My Mom worked full-time and the main way I helped out was with Jay; I won’t even pretend to tell you that I did much of anything else, but I would like to think that I did do my part when it came to him. Even from the time he was tiny I was allowed and trusted to care for him. I learned a lot by practicing on Jay and when my first daughter was born it was like getting back on a bike.

Maybe it’s not something that he or anyone will ever understand, but his greatest gift to me is how he helped me be a Mom. Besides already knowing what to do; I knew the love of a child. And there is nothing better.

My Boy Nelson is two today...

…and for the most part he has been a complete joy (I won’t dwell on his recent indiscretion with the wrapping paper salesman).

I love the way he greets us all when we come home. I can see him watching for me through the front door and by the time I pull in the driveway, he has wriggled his way through the pet door and is waiting in the garage. Usually with a stuffed animal in his mouth.

I get tickled at the way he wags his kinked up little tail and the way it makes his whole body wiggle. It kills me the way he army crawls across the floor when you talk to him. I get a kick out of watching him launch off of our bed to chase Vivi and Oscar – knowing full well if him EVER catches one of them he is going to be REALLY SORRY.

I like that he wants to go pick up Rea from school and that he actually seems to recognize the middle school building. The greetings she gets each afternoon are priceless.

I love that Scout and Trooper’s humans love him too…he hangs out at their house; scratches on the door, sleeps on their dog beds, pretty much makes himself at home. We sometimes have to call at night and say: “Would you tell Nelson that it is time to come home?” And they do…and he does.

And I love that Nelson sleeps on Danny’s side on the bed…although Danny claims that he doesn’t like him at all.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY NELSON!

Another chicken lover...

Nelson's vet isn't the only one that has a thing for chickens.

Up on the "mountain" in Sewanee a lady named Katherine is in a battle with the Community Council to save her pet chickens, Antoinette, Elisa and Chloe.

Thanks to Bill, I've been following her blog for a while now, it's really a hoot! With the exception of one neighbor, the whole community seems to be supportive of the girls.

Their fate will be determined tonight Monday, August 25th at the Community Council meeting.

If they have to leave their home I don't know if they will be fried; or will get to join Gertrude, who turned out to be a rooster.

Check out her blog "Save the Sewanee Chickens"

Telephone Game

Did you ever play the Telephone Game when you were a kid? I remember playing as a Brownie when I was seven or eight; we would all sit in a circle upon our Sit-Upons and the Brownie Leader would whisper something in the ear of the little girl next to her. Sometimes it would be a rhyme or some silly phrase. Then each girl would whisper the “secret” around the Telephone line until the last little girl had heard it – who would then announce what she had heard out loud. What the last little girl heard was NEVER what the leader said to begin with; the phrase was always turned around and completely convoluted, It was great fun.

Apparently someone in my hometown has been playing a grownup game of Telephone. A group of people has been sitting in a big circle, on mats made of newspaper and vinyl and somebody said something silly about me. My Mother-In-Law and Sister-In-Law were at a Bridal Shower on Saturday and were standing right outside the Telephone Game when the last person announced the amusing results.

They were quite shocked to hear that Nelson’s Mama was PREGNANT.

But not nearly as shocked as Nelson’s Mama.

Or Nelson’s Daddy – who has been neutered.

Trampoline!

The Brigade loves to play on the trampoline. They like to bounce gently and play with toys or sticks up there.

But their favorite trampoline game is for the kids to get underneath the trampoline and scratch so that they can POUNCE and then DIG! That's some fun.

BOOYAH!

Anda one, Anda two....

Rea just started Sixth Grade and that means she can now start band and learn to play an instrument. I’ve really encouraged Rea to join the band, I’d love to see her stick it out through high school, of all the things our school system seems to be getting wrong right now, the band program isn’t one of them. I was a band member through high school. Now, our band pretty much STUNK, but it was MY band, and we had a pretty good time and it certainly gave me a sense of place, that as a high-schooler I so desperately needed.

On Monday night, Danny, Rea and I attended a band meeting where they give you all the hype about how WONDERFUL band is, how it will TRANSFORM your child, etc. and that our offspring needs to select an instrument to play. To that end, the two band directors have conducted mouthpiece tests on each child and have recommendations for each student.

And how convenient – two BAND RENTAL companies are waiting just outside the doors to rent us instruments RIGHT THEN! Wonder who thought of that?

A small debate, shall we say, about instrument selection, had been waging before we ever got to the school. You see, Rea had two instruments to choose from: the flute or the trumpet. I had been LOBBYING all week for flute. There are a lot of pros where a flute is concerned: it is small and portable, you can stick it in your pocket, it makes a beautiful sound when played correctly, and most importantly, IT IS MUCH EASIER ON THE NERVES DURING PRACTICE AT HOME.

Rea was leaning toward trumpet – her reasoning? She wants to learn to play the opening strains of the Indiana Jones theme song. End of story.

So, we get in line at one of the oh, so conveniently positioned rental companies, I’m trying to get Danny to join in with me in a united front about the flute. And he, who played a trumpet for like maybe two years in middle school, takes one look into Rea’s blue eyes and turns to me and says: But, honey, she has her heart set on playing the trumpet.

I think HE wanted that DAMN trumpet.

Yesterday was the first day that the trumpet was here and it was OH SO LOVELY. And guess WHO wasn’t home to hear it? Syd has already threatened to “unravel” the trumpet and do something very unsavory with it.

Maybe I’ll help her and we’ll do it do Danny.

A trip to the vet...

Nelson had to go for his annual check-up today. He got a pretty good report, his eye looks great, doesn't have any exotic parasites making a home in him, that kind of thing. However, he does have allergies. He SCRATCHES incessantly and according to the vet it is because he is allergic - to what I can't begin to imagine. So, he is taking steroids and Benadryl. He's more trouble than a kid.

I got some advice on Nelson's little attitude problem and the name and number of Behavior Specialist, but it sounds like I'm on the right track.

But on to the good stuff, remember how I've told you about going to this vet before? About the menagerie that resides within? Well today I took my camera and I have proof.

BEHOLD!

CHICKEN DUMPLING AND ROOSTER PEROT!!

Newspaper Run

As I sat down yesterday to grab a bite to eat, I picked up an old newspaper to read (yes, I read old newspapers) and I realized that I had missed the anniversary of Elvis’ death on Saturday. He died thirty-one years ago on August 16th. His death is kind of like that of JFK or Martin Luther King, it’s one that people always reminisce about and it made me think back on where I was and what I was doing the day that I heard that the King of Rock n'Roll was gone.

I was fifteen that summer and I knew a little of Elvis’ music, but mostly newer stuff thanks to my friend Kelly. She was partial to two Elvis songs that we listened to over and over. One was “Kentucky Rain” and the other was “In the Ghetto”, why of all of that he sang, that she had an affinity for these two songs, I’ll never know. But we listened to them on 45’s and we knew every word.

Anyway, we lived so far out in the county that we did not get daily newspaper delivery at that time. We could get the newspaper in the mail, but it came a day late. But, you could buy a daily copy at the little grocery store in Lynn Grove; the small community that was nearest us. Lynn Grove at that time consisted of a grocery, a feed mill, a service station, a post office and I think that’s about it. Could have been more…but that’s all I remember.

At fifteen, the HIGHLIGHT of my summer day was that my Mom would let me drive the almost two miles to downtown Lynn Grove and buy a newspaper. And heaven help all of those on the road, I drove there as fast as that old Gran Torino would take me – with the radio as a loud as it would play. Looking back I don’t know why I didn’t try to savor the trip, try to stretch it out, but I didn’t.

And on August 16th, 1977, on my daily newspaper run, they broke in on the radio and informed me that The King - was dead. I got to go home and break the news to my Mom. A girl who had actually lived through that magical decade of poodle skirts, bobby socks and saddle shoes; a girl of the 50’s, that Elvis had left the building.

Now, my Mom was fine, she wasn’t a huge Elvis fan. But my BFF Rhonda’s Momma, she was some kind of UPSET. She was an Elvis FAN. She even had tickets to an upcoming concert! She framed those tickets and they hung in a place of honor in their living room for years!

Whew, glad I didn’t have to go home and tell her the King was gone!

More on Nelson...

I’m not really sure what’s up with Nelson - looking back there have been a couple of red flags that could have indicated that he might have wanted to snack on a neighbor kid. But in all honesty, he put all his heart into telling that boy to go HOME the other day.

Nelson and the other two members of the Shih Zhu Brigade share an invisible fence; they have a huge area in which to roam, play and do their business. All together they have over one and half acres to romp on, which is tons for three miniscule dogs and their favorite pastime is Patrol.

Patrol involves lots of running, and barking menacingly at any man or beast that dares to walk or bike within their sight line. One sounds the first bark alarm, then the other two high-tails it over and joins in. They bounce right up to the boundary of their fence and they know exactly where the zone is – how they can hear the warning beep over the barking is beyond me, but they can.

I’m a big fan of the show The Dog Whisperer and thinking over how Cesar would address this problem with Nelson, I’m thinking that Patrol is a contributing factor to Nelson’s problem. I’m guessing in his little doggie brain that he sees the yard as his turf and safe zone and everything beyond is just scary. Without realizing it, we’ve allowed him to become very territorial and anything that steps into the yard is a threat to him.

Because Nelson has had this huge area to play in and two constant buddies at his side, I have neglected to take him for walks. Walks and exercise are something that Cesar is a big on, while Nelson is very active and plays outside a lot, he rarely goes on walks. So, I’ve starting walking him in hopes that it will help to burn off some excess energy and to help him see that the world on the other side of the underground fence is pretty cool too. Nelson gets to go places quite a bit, but always in a vehicle, so in addition, I also hope that by walking he’ll see that people that he sees from the yard are friends and not foe.

But of course, we hit a small snafu with our new walking regimen. When we first installed Nelson’s underground fence we had the “volume” on his collar, so to speak, turned relatively low. So, if I wanted to take Nelson on a walk, or to a neighbor’s house I could simply hold Nelson really high over my head and lift him out of the zapping zone of his fence. Well, a few months ago he started breaking through his fence to follow Rea when she left on her bike, so Danny had to turn his collar up and I didn’t realize that I could no longer lift him out of the zone.

Well…let’s get say both Nelson and I are very aware of that fact now. And Nelson thinks DAMMIT.

I’m truly worried by this development with Nelson – Danny, Rea and I love him so. (Syd not so much.). The thought of not having him around – I can’t even go there. And, I don’t want to limit him from playing with Scout and Trooper at will, but am afraid that may happen. Obviously Patrol will have to be monitored or eliminated completely, I just have to figure out a way to do that. One thing at a time.

Thursday gone bad...

Yesterday was going pretty good. I’ve gotten a lot of things done around the house since the girls started back to school and it feels good. Call me crazy, but my whole peace of mind is better when my house is clean. I love it when everything is in its place and I like the smell of cleaning supplies.

Both the girls were home from school, I had picked Rea up and Syd had come home in her spiffy blue car, homework was almost done and it was time for Rea to leave for soccer and there was a knock at the door.

The elementary school had kicked off their wrapping paper sales drive and a neighbor boy was at the door wanting me to buy some stuff. Since we were leaving, I asked him to come back later.

Nelson was at the door with Rea and me as we talked with the kid, and had sniffed him and everything. But when the boy turned to go down the sidewalk, he started to run, and when he did, Nelson gave chase and started nipping at his legs. Which caused the kid to scream. Which caused Nelson to get more excited! Which caused Nelson to nip at him MORE. Which caused the kid to SCREAM MORE!

Rea was screaming and running. And I am yelling: JUST STOP! STAND STILL!

When the kid finally stopped, Nelson stopped and I was able to get him. AND BUST HIS FURRY LITTLE BUTT. I didn’t realize until that point that the kid had run completely out of his flip-flops, but wasn’t hurt, just rattled.

Danny wasn’t home yet; and I hit him at the door with the news that his favorite furry buddy tried to make a snack out of a neighbor kid. It wasn’t exactly the news he needed – this was the icing on the cake of a very crappy day. It seems the day he dreaded is here. His full time job is now conflicting with his part time job, which may lead to players on both sides questioning his loyalty. Tough decisions lie ahead.

So much for my nice Thursday. Now I had too much on my mind to even notice my good smelling orderly house. There was lots of worrying by all parties involved and not much sleep to be had here last night.

Cub Napping

Just how do you decide to steal a bear?

Saturday night, Chad Montgomery and some buddies stole poor Newell, a 7-month old bear cub from the enclosure that he shares with his brother, Nelson, at the Hollywild Animal Park in South Carolina.

According to Chad’s cousin, who was interviewed on Channel 4 this morning, Chad first tried to steal a monkey, but it bit him.

Then they stole Newell and proceeded to take him to a truck stop and charged people $1 to pet him.

Newell was returned to the Animal Park by the cousin – after she stole him from Chad.

The cousin stated: “He just always wanted a bear.”

Here’s a link for your reading pleasure!

http://www.wyff4.com/news/17180429/detail.html?rss=gs&psp=news

Rescue Mission

Nelson has a great deal of respect for Vivi and Oscar.

He kept barking tonight and I couldn't figure out why - I finally found him on the steps. Trapped. He wanted to come down but was afraid to pass by.

Those two weren't budging an inch for him either; besides the fact that Oscar likes to torment him.

Don't mind me...

I’m thinking that maybe this new hobby of Danny’s is starting to have a negative effect on his mental health.

He was in his usual place the other night. The garage. But when I opened the door to ask him something, he was standing there with a shotgun - aiming at the ceiling. AND IT WAS COMPLETELY DARK.

For reasons that I don’t know and or care to understand, he had one of his guns out, with a little bitty flashlight somehow attached to it...and he was pointing it at the ceiling.

He would aim one direction and then quickly swing and aim at another imaginary target (in the dark) on the other side of the garage. He was very enthusiastic with his aiming too, it was if he was tracking lions or something in there.

Kinda makes your heart race when you open your garage door and witness a scene like that.

It's the little things...

Danny and I both grew up in a very rural area and from time to time we get on a kick to move out of our densely populated neighborhood. I would love to have a garden, to grow a few tomatoes and some pole beans. Danny would like to be able to shoost his guns. Needless to say, that might raise an eyebrow or two around here. Plus, our covenants prohibit us from having a clothes line. Now, don’t think I would be hanging all of my stuff outside, but let me tell you, this country girl would have her sheets out there EVERY WEEK. There is nothing like slipping into bed between clean, outside sheets!

But, I started all of that to tell about a sweet little story that we witnessed Sunday afternoon, that, if we lived out somewhere, perhaps in Moore County, we wouldn’t have had the privilege to see.

Danny and I were sitting in the driveway late in the afternoon, enjoying the unseasonably mild weather. Shelley was outside with us (and no, she wasn’t on the golf cart). It was nice to see her outside, because as she ages she spends more and more time indoors.

Now, Shelley is friendly and personable, but doesn’t go up to “strangers” and stays really close to home. But on Sunday she made a bee-line down the driveway and crossed the street over to where our neighbor was out in his yard - we couldn’t figure out what she was doing. Well, Mr. Shi was in his yard watering his landscaping and Shelley walked right up to him and nudged him with her nose! Shelley let Mr. Shi scratch her head then… she asked for a drink from his water hose.

That’s right. She had heard him watering, was thirsty and crossed the street for a drink. We sat and watched as Mr. Shi kindly turned down the pressure on his water hose and patiently waited for our elderly dog to drink her fill.

Mr. Shi knew exactly what Shelley wanted; and he didn't see us watching. Was this a routine that the two of them had been going through for quite some time that we were just now privy to?

I know most of you probably think that’s a dumb story and don’t think it’s sweet at all. But, the Shi’s don’t have pets, and are Chinese. I don’t profess to know much of their culture, but from what I do understand, pets were not an important part of their everyday life growing up. However, they treat every animal that passes through their yard with the same love and gentleness. While we struggle mightily to communicate with the them - we could not ask for better neighbors.

Sometimes I have to remind myself to be thankful for what I have. If we had had that place “out” somewhere like we dream of, I would have missed that small act of kindness, from that gentle soul, for that decrepit old dog.

The Saga of Vivi the cat

Through the years there have been many kitties in my life, too many to even count. But I must tell you that Vivian is one of the most unique. Of course, anyone that knows and loves cats knows that each one is unique, independent and aloof. That’s what makes them cats…but my Vivi excels at all things feline.

Vivian came into our lives way back in 2002 on a cold, Saturday morning. Danny and I left the girls at home and went to Wal-Mart to buy groceries. There at the front door of the store was a man with a shopping cart and a sign – and you guessed it! FREE KITTENS!

Now, I ALWAYS stop and look at whatever they are giving away at Wal-Mart. I just can’t help it. I hold the free puppies, I hold the kittens, and I would hold baby goats and probably baby pythons if they had them. Usually I walk away empty handed, but this day, there sat this tiny black and white kitten, looking up at me, from the bottom of a box in a shopping cart. My heart melted.

I picked her up and cuddled her. And I told the guy that I wanted her and asked if he would keep her for me until I got through with our shopping. He knew a sucker when he saw one. Of course he said yes.

WELL, once we got inside the store and out of earshot of the guy with the kittens Danny informs me that: I am not getting that kitten. I have two cats. I do NOT need another cat. He will not have another cat in HIS house.

This conversation goes on for a bit, and I say: Well, what I am supposed to do, I have made a commitment to the man with the kitten; Are we going to hide in the store all day? How are we going to walk past him?

Danny says: We’ll just slip out the other door and he'll never see us.

And then, right there, in Action Alley of Wal-Mart, I’ve had enough. Negotiations break down. I want THAT kitten. I stop, I turn, and with my hands on my hips, I oh so daintily say: BY GOD I am thirty nine years old and if I want THAT kitten she is going home with me!

Six years later, Vivi is here, living her unique feline life and loving every minute of it! (Danny maintains there was some sort of deal struck in the Wal-Mart aisle involving him getting a new shotgun. I’m taking the Fifth).

Oh look, it's three o'clock...

With the beginning of the new school year I reentered the Hell known as: the Pick-up Line. I’ve had the unique privilege to while away, oh, probably ten years of my life in the Pick-up Lines of three schools in my town. I’ve analyzed this situation from my lowly minivan for years, and apparently, I’m one of the few people that have given it a second thought. Because, people, I’m here to tell you, IT’S A FREE FOR ALL OUT HERE!

On Wednesday afternoon, I made a nostalgic return to the elementary school with Jo to pick up her boys. We waited in line for almost two days (more like ten minutes), but as we were approaching the front of the line and the boys were in sight, a green minivan pulls up to our LEFT and the driver CALLS out to his children and asks them to RUN THROUGH THE LINE AND GET IN!

For once, the teachers spotted the offender and made him go to the back of the line and wait. But, I’ve often wondered, when a Line Cutter does that (and it happens more than you think)WHAT was he thinking? Was it that the rest of us were just too stupid to think of that strategy? Or, that perhaps, he thought we were all just having an afternoon Gin & Tonic in our SUV’s and minivans and were just languishing in line, killing time and it was okay for him to pull around and we wouldn’t mind? Could it be that he thought he was being stealthy and we wouldn't notice him in that dirty green minivan? Maybe he thought our kids were playing craps or somesuch game, and didn’t ask his kids to play, so, DON’T MIND ME, I’ll just get my babies and go now. Or how about this, his little children were the only ones ready to go home and watch Sponge Bob and have a snack? The others just wanted to sit on the concrete and stare at the wheels of the cars, while their Mom’s just sat with their vehicles in idle, staring into space! Phhheww!!

The biggest shock came when I was initiated into the High School Pick-Up Line, Syd’s freshman year. That one is a DOOZIE! Added to the pain of the Pick-Up Lines from the other schools, you have people ignoring the rules of the road (going in entrances where traffic is exiting). The high school is on major four-lane thoroughfare, plus there’s two or three hundred TEENAGE DRIVERS! And no one to supervise! That’s right – NO ONE. (Hey, let’s make up our own rules, it’ll be fun!) Don’t tell, but I think that the principal and the teachers are in building, secretly watching; I think they have their faces pressed against the windows, laughing sadistically, as the parents and students play Demo Derby in the Pick-Up line day after day!

Rea is at the middle school now and things have improved quite a bit since my last tour of duty. There has been a changing of the guard; the new principal has instituted a strict traffic pattern and issued a MAP! What a novel idea! She has RULES about Drop-Off and Pick-Up. Who as ever heard of such innovative things at a school? And do you know what else? She stands outside on the sidewalk and actually watches to see that said rules are enforced so that the children are kept SAFE! My word!

I only have three years of Middle School Pick-Up line before I have to reenter the High School Pick-Up Twilight Zone and the thought it already makes my palms sweaty.

H. R. H. Hannah

When Royalty is reduced to riding a bike you know that gas prices are too high!

I'm thinking this Princess would probably endorse Paris Hilton's energy plan!

Mala-What?

A week or so ago Beth Moore posted on her blog about malapropisms. When I first saw that big old word I had absolutely no clue what it meant. But she included a definition, and when I read it, I knew exactly what she was talking about. Yesterday afternoon, Rea and I were swimming at the Yoders and I heard Spencer use one of the cutest malapropisms ever: He said that his dive toy was “at the shadow-end of the pool”. Does that give you a hint about a malapropism?

The definition of a Malapropism (n) is the unintentionally humorous misuse or distortion of a word or phrase; the use of a word sounding somewhat like the one intended but ludicrously wrong on the context." 588 people posted malapropisms on Beth Moore’s blog that day - some of them were the funniest things I have ever heard in my life!

Postings ran the gamut from the simple misuse of words like Spencer’s; others were the complete mutilation of the Queen’s English! I wish I had the time and the eyesight to count the number of people who actually thought that a chest of drawers was a “CHESTER DRAWERS”, I am not kidding. And apparently Santa Claus comes down the CHIMLEY around some parts. Rea, bless her heart, will not be alone DRAWLING in art class; and lots of little children across the country need SUNSCREAM. There were several ladies with Briggs and Stratton contractions, but only one or two with CONTRAPTIONS. And one poor woman had to have an emergency EPISIOTOMY, and she wasn’t even pregnant. And last but not least, I was glad to find out who sang one of my favorite songs from high school. I loved “Rich Girl”, who knew that a group called Haulin’ Oats sang it! I’m checking out iTunes now!

As a child my brother always said BANK ROBERT, K MARK and BESSERT. And I said NEWTILITY room. Danny’s grandmother, Annabelle, always called the median in the road, the MEDIA. And my favorite from Syd – WIDERSPEBS. We still call Rea, WOGGIN, because that’s what my niece called her. My favorite name for a swimsuit is a BANGING SUIT because a friend of the family (now 26 or so) called hers that when she was small.

But the best from Beth Moore’s post were hymn lyrics: Below are my favorites!

“Andy walks with me, Andy talks with me”

"On My Christmas Shoulders”

"He is our peas”

“Bringing in the sheets”

"He socked me and he bopped me with his redeeming love"

"...and lead a snot into temptation

"When the roses crawl up yonder I'll be there

"Up from the gravy he arose, with a mighty triumph o'er his toes..."

"Praise God from Whom all blessings flow ... praise Him all creatures, HERE WE GO!"

"My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus blood and righteousness...all other ground is stinking sand.."

"Whosoever "Shirley" (surely) meaneth me"

“I got a piece of plastic understanding down in my heart "

"Lead on, oh kinky turtle"


I know you have some too! Take a second a tell me what they are!

Fashion Plate

Rea definitely marches to the beat of her own drum, wouldn’t you say? She couldn’t find matching socks on Saturday morning, so this is how she went to soccer evaluations. I think we could each learn something from her about living in the moment. She embraced the fact that she looked unusual and that her socks were different colors!

Readin', Writin' and Signin'

So, I know that I said I was ready for the girls to go back to school. I was. I was ready for us to settle back into a routine, for the chaos to settle.

But then, they brought home all of that stinkin’ paper work, and I had a whole ‘nother think about the situation. What’s that all about? I get SO tired of signing my name over and over and over. And sometimes ON THE SAME FORM! HELLO! Don’t you see my John Henry at the bottom?

And another thing! What about those conduct or discipline policies. Each classroom or teacher has a different one? And they want my signature on each one. Do these people not talk to each other? Do they not teach in the SAME BUILDING - WITH THE SAME PRINCIPAL? Wouldn’t one policy work?

And how about those signature lines they hide on the back side of papers? I really love those. I missed one of those on a piece of “rainbow paper” and Rea nearly hyperventilated because she was going to “get in trouble”. I don’t appreciate teachers putting that burden on her for my mistake.

I particularly LOVE signing homework papers – especially those with “A’s” or “100’s”. Exactly why am I doing that? Can anyone out there tell me? I truly want to know, it’s one of the unsolved mysteries of the world. Is it a torture device? Are teachers documenting court cases against lax parents like me? Will they someday depose me?

Teacher: Yes, Nelson’s Mama, on ten occasions you failed to initial math papers that had 100’s on them, exactly what was the problem!
Nelson’s Mama: I was volunteering at the homeless shelter, helping out at church, then, um, then, I was in a coma! Besides they were 100’s…
Teacher: That’s absolutely NO EXCUSE!!

I just know, provided that I ever get my ducks in a row, get over my problem with New Guy, and, you know, get to Heaven. That St. Peter will meet me at the Pearly Gates and say “Sorry, you can’t come in, you didn’t sign all of the school papers right”.

Another painting snafu...

I put a can of paint on the landing of the garage of steps. Once again I didn't follow directions where the lid was concerned and Danny tipped it over. Three fourths of a can of Sail Blue paint sailed over the garage floor.

This was after I had scooped it all up with my favorite dust pan and a broom...

In the news....

I saw this article on-line in my hometown newspaper. But I'm warning you, don't stand too close to me because lightening just might strike!

Accident claims Puryear man Wednesday

Staff Report

A Puryear, Tenn., man died after his moped struck a guideline wire yesterday.

Richard Wess, Sr., 82, was leaving the Gasbuster Scooter lot on Poplar Street around 4 p.m. Wednesday and was attempting a right turn onto Poplar. According to a release from the Murray Police Department, Wess' moped struck the wire, throwing him off the vehicle.

Calloway County Coroner Mike Garland said Wess was pronounced dead at Murray-Calloway County Hospital's emergency room at 5:30 p.m. He said an autopsy is scheduled today to determine the exact cause of death.

MPD Officer Jay Herndon and Capt. Jim Osborne are investigating

I read on another news source that the moped was a 2008 Suzuki, do you think it was his maiden voyage?

And exactly why do they need an autopsy? I mean, I wasn't there, but it sounds pretty self-explanatory to me.

Okay, enough of that, my thoughts and prayers do go out to his family.

Alert!!

My Darling, sixteen year old daughter needs your help!!! She’s being held against her will in a “HELL-HOLE”, also known as our humble home.

Just for the record, we’re running an ALL-INCLUSIVE "Hell-Hole". Let me tell you how terrible it is. It comes with a private cell, decorated just like Darling ordered, with a queen concrete bunk and 400 thread count sheets. You won’t have to worry about the other prisoners looking when you bathe ‘cause you have your own PRIVATE BATH!

Let’s see, oh yeah, what about, the BRAND NEW CAR and the BP CARD to go with it?? How "HELL-HOLEY" does that sound??? Sorry, got a little sidetracked there. Where was I?

Oh yes, our All-Inclusive "Hell-Hole" also comes with a complimentary Dell Laptop and FREE WiFi, plus an Envy cell-phone with unlimited minutes and texting. There’s also an iPod with a base for your listening pleasure!

If you would like to watch a movie, you can just take over the Dad’s big TV and comfy recliners, and there’s also a Playstation II and a Wii to play if you get bored!

The Warden also gives Darling a debit card – and get this! He puts money on it every month, just for her! Isn’t that terrible! What an awful, awful man!

Doesn’t somebody feel sorry for her? Surely one of you will spring her from this dreadful “HELL-HOLE”?

Or better yet, has anyone seen a traveling band of gypsies lately? I’ll make them a real deal…