She's Crafty

Dylan will be back in preschool soon and I believe we are equally excited. Check out Dylan's red book bag. It was $5 at Walmart and pretty plain. In the craft section I found iron on embroidered patches. Who knew I could be crafty...if one can call ironing crafty.



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When Hubby got home from work tonight he looked at Dylan and said, "Let's go to Cracker Barrel and get pancakes!"

"Yeah! Family date night!" was Dylan's response. He inhaled two large pancakes, a side of bacon, two crackers, and one corn muffin. I am thankful his appetite is back and take full blame for his carb love affair. He learned it by watching me.

Emory has taken to the kazoo. She only knows one pitch so you can imagine how pleasant the noise becomes after the cuteness wears off.

Don't Worry Be Hippy

Recently I attended a Phish concert with Hubby and some friends. Hubby is, well, I'm just gonna say it...he's a full blown band dork. (Maybe he'll miss this post.) He reads message boards, awaits the set list to every show, and has spent numerous conversations with phellow phans about Trey's sobriety and whale calls.

The music was a little more rockin' than expected, which was a nice surprise since Phish tends to slow it down and jam too long for my taste. They played a mean Sloth and Tweezer Reprise (see, the dorkiness is contagious) but my favorite part of the trip was hanging with our buddies and watching hippies.

Spending six hours (12 round trip) on the way to MD with some of our favorite people reminded me why friends are important. I don't remember the last time I went on a similar road trip. We laughed, took bad exits, ate homemade cookies and laughed some more.

Being amongst all that love and peace reminded me of Woodstock. Just kidding, I wasn't around for that but it did remind me of college and discovering Widespread Panic. One hippy politely turned down a bottled water because it wasn't "spring H2O." It was 90 degrees and this man's hair alone could have smothered three bystanders. He was hot and thirsty but couldn't enjoy tap water. Several times throughout the show I suppressed the urge to ask the "not so security" their thoughts on noodle dancing and glow sticks.

Besides needing a nap or coffee instead of that margarita at set break this excursion was a great time. I also gained a few bits of wisdom. Number one, it is o.k. for Phish to be Hubby's obsession and not mine. I can appreciate our differences...I mean, he probably couldn't grasp the magnitude of Edward Cullen, right? Number two, I am no longer in my 20s...maybe in spirit, but definitely not in body nor mind. And most importantly, number three, Fun Gus is not some one's favorite uncle.

I Scream Because of Ice Cream

Monday Dylan, my three year old, had his tonsils and adenoids removed and a tube put in his left ear. Poor little fella has been lethargic, weepy, and down right pissed off. Just now before I made him take a nap he hit me. The fairy god mother in me would have ignored it and let him finish watching Curious George but the real life mom appeared and popped his hiney...twice.

Yesterday his behavior was worse, odd I'd say. He wiped ear goo on the couch after I put in ear drops, clothes-lined his baby sister, spit under the hallway rug, and broke the towel rack in my bathroom by swinging on it.

What in the world?

This is exactly why we cannot give our children ice cream for dinner or let them watch monkey cartoons on a daily basis.

After School with Faye

My grandmother, Faye, taught me how to stand on my head.

She extinguished her cigarette, dismounted from her light blue swivel
recliner and squatted beside me in her living room one day after school. She showed me how to put my hands shoulder-width apart on her new Sears catalog rug and spread my fingers wide. Then placing the top of her head on the floor she kicked up her delicate, bony feet making herself perpendicular. My seven year old self was in utter awe. I had never seen her do anything spectacular and it almost made up for her just giving my snotty-nosed brother $0.50 for taking out the newspapers when the week before the same task earned me a quarter.

I practiced the rest of the afternoon. Several times Faye caught my feet in the air to help me balance but quickly I had it down pat. After counting 28 Mississippi's, the highest yet, I ran to her bedroom mirror to see how red my face had turned. Though proud of my beet colored cheeks her glamorous jewelry box caught my attention like a beauty queen in sequins. I modeled every ring and strand of pearls I could put my grubby little hands on before hearing, "Oh, you-hooooo."

My mom was home from work and I could not wait to share my new trick!

Mrs. Edith

Walking out of the sanctuary one Sunday morning a gentleman said, “I saw you help Mrs. Edith to the alter to take communion. That was very kind of you.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” was my uncomfortable reply.

“Surprised me that she took your arm like that. She’s a proud, independent lady.”

Funny how perceptions can be backwards. The one needing support that day was me, though I'd always thought of myself in the same light as the gentleman described Mrs. Edith.

Mrs. Edith was a fixture at Mt. Zion on Sunday mornings. I was a newbie. It had been forever since I’d taken communion and my internal struggle with Christ was at an all-time high. Usually my hubby is beside me at church but occasionally I go solo and put our children in the nursery. Such was that day. I felt alone. She looked alone but after I waited for her at the end of the pew and felt her grip on my forearm I knew our company was significant.

Every Sunday I looked forward to seeing Mrs. Edith, dressed to the nines. She always had a compliment ready, which was nice, but what I truly appreciated was her faith. I found comfort in seeing her on the left side, fifth row from the front with her Bible marked to the day’s scripture.

I am lucky enough to have known Mrs. Edith in God’s house and will remember her strength the next time I feel alone. I look forward to eternity and pray I am able to share this story with her.

All Over

"Hey Buddy, how's that peanut butter and jelly?"

"Good. I missed you last night, Mommy. How was your meeting?"

"My Bible study was fun, thanks for asking. When I got home I went upstairs and kissed you all over. Bet you didn't even know it."

Long pause.

"Even my butt?"

Holden Beach

We just returned from our summer vacation at Holden Beach, NC. Spending time with our best buds and being away from the daily hustle was the whole idea. Mission accomplished!

Two of my favorite parts of our getaway were Emory and Hubby sharing ice cream...

and hanging out on the deck in our pajamas.

One of my least favorite parts included getting up every day (ev-er-y day) before six o'clock. Yes, I'm still recovering. One morning I sleepily drug myself and my wide awake children on the beach so others could sleep and Dylan said, "Look Mommy, the sunset!" Um, no. That would be the sunrise. The only other not-so-favorite part was attempting a family photo...

again...

and again. Hey, look at the camera! Look. At. The. Cam-er-a! With your eyes open, please.

Oh well, I did get this one...

and this is definitely a keeper...

Girl Power!