He's The One They Call "Dr. Feelgood."

Thank you all so much for your kind words, comments, emails and suggestions on my recent broo-haha with the stomach virus. Just know that as I was hanging out near, on, or beside my toilet - it was you all I was thinking of.

(Cough.)

So, in my quest for better nutrition and overall health I did my research and found a wonderful Doctor who I feel like was a true god-send. Granted, if you don't live in the Nashville area you are just plum out of luck. But I did you a favor and wrote down some of his responses to my questions.

You're welcome!

~~~~~~~~~

Doctor, I've heard that cardiovascular exercise can prolong life. Is this true?

Your heart is only good for so many beats, and that's it, Melissa...don't waste them on exercise. Everything wears out eventually. Speeding up your heart will not make you live longer; that's like saying you can extend the life of your car by driving it faster. Want to live longer? Take a nap.

Well, should I cut down on meat and eat more fruits and vegetables?

It's important that you grasp logistical efficiencies. What does a cow eat? Hay and corn. And what are these? Vegetables. So a steak is nothing more than an efficient mechanism of delivering vegetables to your system. Need grain? Eat chicken. Beef is also a good source of field grass (green leafy vegetable). And a pork chop can give you 100% of your recommended daily allowance of vegetable products.

I actually don't drink doctor, but chances are my readers are stone cold drunks, so I'll ask this on their behalf...should they reduce their alcohol intake?

No, not at all. Wine is made from fruit. Brandy is distilled wine, that means they take the water out of the fruity bit so you get even more of the goodness that way. Beer is also made out of grain. So tell your readers, "bottoms up!"

I know they taught this in freshman P.E. but goodness knows I wasn't listening, how can I calculate my body/fat ratio?

(laughs) That's okay, Melissa. It's really simple. If you have a body and you have fat, your ratio is one to one. If you have two bodies, your ratio is two to one, etc.

What are some of the advantages of participating in a regular exercise program?

Eh, I'm gonna get letters about this, but personally I can't think of a single one, sorry. My philosophy is: No Pain...Good!

Aren't fried foods bad for you?

My dear, YOU'RE NOT LISTENING!!! ..... Foods are fried these days in vegetable oil. In fact, they're permeated in it. How could getting more vegetables be bad for you?

Again, this question is not for me - but for my readers, will sit-ups help prevent me from getting a little soft around the middle?

Definitely not! When you exercise a muscle, it gets bigger. You should only be doing sit-ups if you want a bigger stomach.

Is chocolate bad for me?

Are you crazy? HELLO Cocoa beans ! Another vegetable!!! It's the best feel-good food around!

I hear swimming good for your figure?

If swimming is good for your figure, explain whales to me.

Wow, that last answer really hit home with me...so is getting in-shape important for my lifestyle?

My dear, 'Round' is a shape!

Lastly, Melissa, please tell your readers this for me: here is my final word on nutrition and health. I can imagine it must be a relief to know the truth after all those conflicting nutritional studies.

1. The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

2. The Mexicans eat a lot of fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

3. The Chinese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

4. The Italians drink a lot of red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

5. The Germans drink a lot of beers and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

Therefore, in conclusion: Eat and drink what you like, speaking English is apparently what kills you.

~~~~~~~~~

My lovelies, I ask you...have I found a gem or what? My appointment with him caused me to leave his office, dig through my glove box until I found The Best of Aretha Franklin, put it on track number 4 and sing to the top of my lungs...

Don't send me no doctor - fillin' me up with all a' those pills
Got me a man named Doctor Feelgood
And oh! Yeah! That man takes care of all my pains and my ills
His name is Doctor Feeeeeelgood in the morning
Takin' care of business is really this man's game
And after one visit to Dr. Feelgood
You'll understand why Feelgood, is his naaaaaame.
Ooooh, yeah! Good God a-mighty
The man sho makes me feel real........Goooooooood!

And Dateline scared us into thinking there were nothing but "kooks" out there. Take that!

Unleavened Bread Never Sounded So Good.

Dear Lord,

Over the years I have made many promises to you.

Some I have kept (tithing! I do that!).

Some I have not kept (I would just like to go on record as saying that the reason I haven't kept them has nothing to do with me or my lack of sincerity, but rather our nation's economic downturn and the change in our response to a war on terror.) I am making this stuff up as I go along here.

But Lord, now I have to ask you a favor, and it's a doozie.

PLEASE remove any more sign of this really inconvenient toxic infection from my body. Please! I'm begging ya! Sweet mercy!

There is no possible way - even with all of the (excuse my language, Lord) crap I have eaten lowe these many years - that there is single trace of anything left in my body. Yet, still it seems to find it's way out. Still. Never ceasing. Never failing.

And yes, Lord, the fact that the AG has had to take my two little rugrats to swim lessons every day this week has pleased me immensely (especially when he came home and said, "How do you do that with two of them? One is always trying to get away from you in the locker room!"). And even though I found it almost intoxicating that we received a call for a house showing and I was still laid up in bed and he had to clean the house and get all of us out of it for an hour...without my help...yes, even though something felt "just" about that, I still want it gone.

And it's not because I think I've been a good enough person that I don't deserve the stomach bug.

And it's not because I tithe. I dare not throw that up in your face. Again.

And it's not because of the time Jeff Jenkins and I were riding a roller coaster and we were so terrified that we screamed out "Yes, Lord! We'll go to Africa!" Though I meant it. Sorta. He, however, most assuredly did not.

It's because this weekend is the 4th of July. And though I have never been one for hot weather and fireworks (complete and total waste of money; money that your people could be tithing, Lord, I'mjustsayin') - I would like to say that the 4th of July is supposed to be about grilling burgers and watermelon. And considering I've only partaken of saltine crackers for 6 days, the thought of burgers makes me want to once again promise you my willingness to head off to Africa and preach the good news.

Please, Lord. Please.

Oh, and also I just went to my girl, Homesick Texan, and saw her 4th of July menu and her write-up on guacamole...and seriously, Lord...give me a break. A reprieve, if you will.

I'm raw.
I'm weak.
I'm hungry.

It's in your name I pray. Amen.

The Bachelorette: Esta Telenovela Roca!

Five bucks to the first person who can translate that.

Okay, too easy.

However, fifty bucks to the first person who can translate what the heck Jillian is thinking by choosing Wes; the man that Meridith and I watched in utter disdain this week until Mer finally blurted out, "I don't want to be too dramatic, but I wish someone would just go ahead and shoot me in the face."

Nah, not too dramatic at all.

Kudos to my friend Kasey (who lives in Texas and is one of several reasons that state is looking better and better to me...I'm coming for ya, Kase!) who texted me halfway through the show the reminder that watching The Bachelorette must be akin to watching Mexican soap operas, all the drama, the tears, the running towards men and jumping into their arms, drinking wine in hot tubs, etc., etc.

I mean, seriously folks, between the love I have for The Bachelorette and the love I have for guacamole - it's a wonder I haven't switched nationalities.

So, on with the show...

This week two big things happened.

#1. We found out that not only is Wes a loser, but he is also a loser who has apparently killed all the men in his family and buried them in the backyard so that he can be surrounded by only women who fawn over him and believe his low-down, scum-sucking, rotten, twisted lies.

#2. EDDIE CAME BAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!!!!!!!

And now you know why I watch. Because last night, at my food poisonous weakest, as I was curled up on the couch just wishing that someone would put either me or Jillian out of our misery, there was a knock on the door - and it was Ed.

And suddenly everything was right with my world. (With, you know, the exception of the vomiting and diarrhea.)

Did I not tell you all last week that this season was just getting good? When when when are you all gonna start listening to me? (I would just like to say that I also made a prediction that bangs were making a comeback - and they did. And that body waves were making a comeback - and I still stand beside that.)

So stick with me, my lovelies, I can lead you to the highest heights with both your hair and your reality television choices.

And that right there is enough for us to be lifelong friends.

There's Nothing Worse Than A Big Harry Comin' Atcha.

It's Sunday night at 7:34pm and I know if I don't write this post now, while I have the strength, it won't get writ.

I have just finished watching The Women and I cried.
Because it was sad? No.
Because it was good? No.
But because I feel so truly awful that I cried all the way through the movie.

Food poisoning, I had gotten by just fine without ever meeting up with you.

The Women is just one of 136 movies that I have watched in the past 24 hours thanks to a case of the food poisoning. Or at least we think it's food poisoning (Thanks, WebMD!). But the chills, the body aches (ohhh, the body aches) and the good ol' Texas grip have kept me, shall we say, busy for the past day or so. In fact, it you'll excuse me...

Okay, I'm back.

So Saturday I am listening to Remi tell her favorite Bible Story of the moment, David and Goliath. However, when you watch the story of David and Goliath on Veggie Tales they go by different names - which can lend itself to being somewhat confusing when a three year old tries to relay it. So she's in the back of the car repeating what I believe to be the story of David and Goliath, only with names like Derek and Harry. (Who knows, I don't ask.) And though her retelling of the story was quite cute in itself ...durn it, I have to take a quick bathroom break again...

Okay, I'm back.

...it was the last sentence that summed my weekend up perfectly, "Mom, how would like to look up and see a big Harry?"

Oh, Remi. I think this weekend I did.

I Heart Nard-Dog

Happy Meal.

Well, summer is here and that can mean only three things:

1. Momma no longer gets to post every day because these kids, they are everywhere.

2. Momma no longer gets to potty alone because these kids, they are little freaks and won't leave the room.

3. And Momma has now changed her Netflix plan from "two movies a month" to "how about you just keep 'em coming, whaddayasay?" It was the best plan, I assure you.

Our morning ritual is the same every day. We head into Cool Springs for some swim lessons, followed by a drive thru at Chik-fil-A where I order a 3 count chicken mini and we each (if I'm lucky) get one. Momma usually gets the short end of that chicken stick, let me tell ya. So I order a sweet tea so that I won't completely hate the world.

Then we go somewhere that's free (THANK YOU PUBLIC LIBRARIES!) or we head straight home. Or sometimes we do both; we go to the public library, have to leave early thanks to child rearing issues (what's the issue? I can't seem to rear my child, that's the issue) and head straight home.

And it's on the little jaunt home that we inevitably end up having the same conversation day after day after day after day. It's become quite comforting, to say the least. It goes like this:

Remi: Mama, are we going straight home?

Me: Yes, baby.

Remi: Mama, can I watch Tom and Jerry at home?

Me: Yes, baby.

Remi: And mama, I'm hungry.

Me: I know baby. What do you want to eat.

Remi: I want some jelly and some peanut butter. And I want a sandwich around it. And I want one cookie. And I want those chips. And I want some wahhhhhrrrmelon and strawberries.

I try to drive her crazy by offering up other goods: crackers? cheese? turkey sandwich? two cookies? cantaloupe instead of watermelon?

But the answer is always the same, "no. Just some jelly and some peanut butter. And I want a sandwich around it. And I want one cookie. And I want those chips. And I want some wahhhhrrrrmelon and strawberries."

I have offered McDonalds, Chik-fil-A, Subway and KFC. She'll have none of it.

She has decided what her summer lunch of choice is and she won't budge from it. Not one bit.

And I'm jealous, really. Jealous that a peanut butter and jelly doesn't really do it for me anymore. Jealous that licking the cheese from Cheese Puffs off my fingers is no longer the highlight of my day. I'm also a little frustrated at the fact that watermelon (though delicious and refreshing) is not something I would choose to indulge in every single day when I know darn well its a diuretic! What's wrong with me? And when did I become too good for Tom and Jerry?

Remi's got the right idea. Her meal cost nothing. Well, hardly anything. You buy the ingrediants and they'll last you a month at a time. Buy them at Wal-mart and they'll last you 7 or 8 months......(seriously, there is something I don't trust about their jelly.)

It's her Happy Meal.

When did we get too old to have one?

What's your Happy Meal? Nope. You can't say chips and cheese dip. You don't get to type in "Sushi and fried rice." Not this time. This time think like a child. What is the meal that makes you a little happy and a little 8, all at the same time?

Mine is peanut butter and grape jelly with Doritos. Crushed up. And eaten at the same time with my sandwich.....bite after bite after. It's a side of fresh peaches and Very Berry Fruit Punch. It's eating it off a paper plate while I lay on the couch in just a t-shirt and watch The Love Boat.

I just told you my 4th grade summer. And now, I'm smiling.

What's yours?

The Bachelorette: What The Heck Show Am I Watching?

I can almost guarantee you that last night's episode of The Bachelorette was one of the nights when, oh, I don't know, my Granny decides to see what all the fuss is about. Or my mom decides to sneak a peak of the show I am so obsessed with. Or my mother-in-law decides to see just how sick and twisted her daughter-in-law really is.

Yep, the one night that the show is absolutely so bizarre will inevitably be the one night that everyone in my life decides to watch it.

So if that is the case - if you found yourself tuning in last night due to complete and utter curiosity (and also because The Real Housewives of New Jersey has ended and you had an hour until Jon and Kate came on) - then I must tell you, WHAT YOU SAW WAS NOT TRULY WHAT THE BACHELORETTE WAS ABOUT!! I implore you people, give it one more shot.

To be perfectly honest, there were moments when even Meridith and I looked at each other and said, "What is happening here?" Did anyone else feel that way? So here are a few high-lights and low-lights from last nights show. Please feel free to add your own.

1. Where was Jillian? She may have been talking into the camera, but she certainly wasn't there. Did anyone else notice this? She looked completely spaced out the entire show....she's grieving Ed. We all are.

2. Tanner. Tanner. Tanner. Dear Tanner, pull your pants up, put her shoes on and go home. I have never before gotten The Bachelorette and Cinemax confused until you showed up.

3. Seriously? A romantic dinner served on ice sculpted chairs, tables and glasses? Where am I? Canada? The last date I went on I stood in line and ordered a Burrito and split a Reese's while watching a movie. That's real life, people.

4. Reid, you were a nice little surprise. I like neurotic. And I adore sarcastic. So all in all I was pleasantly surprised. I think she was too. I would now like to lift my 30 pound ice glass in a toast to you, but I'm too out of shape to try.

5. Jake went home. This was a high-light for me as I felt that Jake, though kind and gentlemanly, was a tad too cheezerific. My gut tells me that on his way home he helped an old lady cross the street, pulled a child out of a well, and landed his plane on the Hudson. I could be wrong, but I rarely am.

6. I would like to reserve number six to discuss Wes. But I really do not believe that he is worth discussing. And may I just be totally 8th grade right now and add..."also 6 is totally in the number 666 which is like, totally, the sign of Satan. And Wes is - for sure - Satan. And I hate him. And also six rhymes with sticks - and I would totally love to hit Wes over the head with a stick and send him straight to 666, which totally, don't tell my dad I said this, means h-e-double hockey sticks."

7. Thank the Lord for Tivo which allowed Meridith and I to rewind the "Next week on...The Bachelorette" 100 times and sigh deeply in hopes that the person coming back to sweep Jillian off her feet is none other than - ED!

Stay tuned my lovelies, it's just gettin' good.

To My Baby Daddy.

This weekend is Father's Day. And though I would really love to write a post about my father and how much he means to me and how much I truly adore the man, he politely asked me to never mention him on this blog again. Apparently he "knows people" who read this blog and therefore would like to be de-tached from me in every way possible.

I figure he ain't the only one.

So I will respect his wishes and leave him outta this one. Though he's gonna be sorry. This post is going to be heartfelt, meaningful and sappy. He's gonna wish he was a part of it. Oh, yes he is.

So here are my top ten reasons why my husband is The World's Best Dad. (Oh sorry. Did you all not know this was a contest? It is. And your husband lost. Oops.)

10. When my husband and I were newlyweds we would occasionally talk about children. Mostly it was when were in a restaurant and a child was acting up beside us and we would roll our eyes and say things like, "I would take that child out of this restaurant and..." - well, you get the picture. But during that time my husband was adamant about the fact that he would never - ever - ever - kiss our children on the lips. Never. Ever. It was gross. It was just weird. I told him he would, he swore he wouldn't. He does. In fact, last night as I was making bacon and eggs for dinner he was rolling in the floor kissing our daughter all over her face - lips included and screaming "these lips belong to daddy and don't you ever forget it!"

Oh...and side note. Our children act like rebel hostiles in a restaurant on almost every occasion and he never - ever - takes them out of the restaurant. He's alllll talk.

9. Every time he walks in the house from work he kisses me. Even when Remi runs screaming into his arms he walks straight toward me and says, "Momma first. Always, momma first." Gosh I love that.

8. You know what the biggest threat around our house is? Not a spanking. Not a time-out. Not the threat of no Tom and Jerry after dinner. It's that when daddy gets home from work there will be no play time. Play time with daddy is like bringing Six Flags into your living room. And it works every time. "Remi, if you don't straighten up I will tell daddy there will be no play time tonight." "He won't throw me up? Or do 'sack of potatoes' or tickle me or play hide and seek?" "Nope." "Then I be good girl, momma." And she always is.

7. Rocco is adopted. And The AG thinks he looks just like me.

6. He knows every word to the opening credits of "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse," "Diego," "Dora," and "Winnie the Pooh." As well as to "Life is A Highway" and "Hard to Handle" by the Black Crows. That's my man.

5. He makes plans with Rocco. "We will do this..." and "we will go to this..." and "I will take you to this..." or "I can't wait to teach you this..." And he plans on keeping every one of them.

4. Remi is adopted. But he always says, "I don't think we adopted her, I think we've always had her. She acts just like you and looks like me." And I couldn't' agree with him more.

3. He would move heaven and earth to make them happy. He would even move to Texas.

2. One night I was listening to him say his prayers with Remi and instead of saying the same ol' "Now I lay me down to sleep..." prayer, I heard him begin to pray, really pray, with her. In a few weeks I was laying down in my bed not feeling well and it was Remi that prayed the same prayer over me that he had prayed with her; protection, healing, God's touch. And from her daddy she learned to say, "Thank you Jesus. And it's in Your name we pray. Amen." He did that. Not me.

1. His kids and their momma can talk him into anything. Absolutely anything.


Happy Father's Day, Mr. Attorney General.
You're better at this than I could have ever imagined.

Dear Director, You Look Lovely.

Dear Vacation Bible School Director,

I would like to volunteer to serve.

Yeah, I said that.

Upon some further investigation into scripture I have realized that it does, indeed, say we should help to serve our local church body.

So? Here I am! Where do I sign up?

Oh, but before you put my name down just anywhere on that ol' list of yours I have a couple - just a little bitty smidgen, really - of things I'd like to ask of you...

1. Would it be possible to place me somewhere to serve that might be, I don't know, fun? Not that every part of VBS isn't fun - it is. It really is. But I just mean somewhere where there is a lot of a-c-t-i-o-n going on allll the time. I mean, I am a pretty "with it" person (or so my mom tells me) so would you mind placing me in an area of high traffic and even higher chit chat. Of course, I mean chit chat with adults, which leads me to number two...

2. I am not a big fan of kids.

3. When you are considering placing me in an area of servitude would you think long and hard before putting me anywhere without air conditioning. It will be embarrassing to call in sick on day two, but I'll do it. Try me.

4. Another thing to remember is that kids - with the exception of my own, and even that's a gamble - really don't like me.

5. I like to talking to adults. But not mean adults, who can't understand why they can't drop their child off an hour early and pick them up an hour late. Or mean adults, who want to know how their little tyke ended up with a broken arm. Or mean adults who roll their eyes and say things like, "Jeremy is really too old for this kind of thing, but I have to have time to tan this morning so he's coming even though he hates it." Oh, and that reminds me...

6. I really don't like super happy people, either. So don't stick me with anyone who drinks four cups of coffee before 8am, who thinks singing "I Am A C, I Am A C-H, I Am A C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N" is just the catchiest thing she's ever heard, or who looks good in shorts.

7. Did I mention kids are not really my thing?

8. Do not - I repeat - do not make me wear a T-shirt. I don't like wearing t-shirts that are matchy and proudly announce what our theme is and that we are in VBS week. I feel certain that anyone who sees my face for that entire week will know that we are in the midst of VBS week. Also, I cannot squeeze Laverne and Shirley into a thin, cotton, tee. I've tried.

9. Kids? Nope.

10. So to repeat, I like high traffic, chatty areas, populated by adults and in almost freezing conditions. I do not like t-shirts, kids or women who look cute in shorts.

Oh my goodness, thank you so much for allowing me the chance to serve this year. I am honored to just be a humble part of what God is going to do in the high traffic, chatty areas of our local air conditioned facility.

Oh...and don't thank me. Thank Him.

Melissa

Bachelorette: Ed Is Dead

You know, I missed posting yesterday and so I was all pumped to watch The Bachelorette and write about all the geeky things the guys said and how it creeps me out just watching Wes breathe...but then tonight I watched The Bachelorette and, well, nothing.

Nada.

Zip.

Zero.

Nothing at all happened.

Well, I mean Jillian went sledding. Jillian made snow angels. Jillian cried. But heck, Jillian does those things every week.

Okay, one thing did happen. Ed went home. Which left me staring helplessly at the screen while I cried into my spaghetti.

Meridith didn't cry though. Nope. She looked right into the T.V. and yelled, "ED! I'MA COMING ATCHA ED! WAIT FOR ME! I'MA COMING!"

But the poor guy had to choose between losing his job back home or leaving the show. And let's be honest, this recession is no time to be shucking jobs in hopes that you may or may not get time in a hot tub where you may or may not be all alone with the woman of your dreams and ten other men and you may or may not get a rose.

Life is a gamble, I suppose.

Ed...we hardly knew ye.

P.S. In case you're wondering what that tombstone means, I have no idea. But I found it humorous nonetheless.