Sorry I'm Late.

If you're wondering where I've been (which I'm guessing all three of you really haven't cared that much) my Blogger spot decided my sign in name and password were no longer usable. What's up with that?? Anyway, after much hassle I am back on track. So here goes...

I NEED HELP!!

Now I'm calling on you people to email me back just as quickly as you can with some really good advice (melradke@charter.net). Okay, here it is.





Fran and Ester are going to Georgia to entertain some sweet Southern women over some iced tea and peach cobbler. They want to be entertained no doubt; problem is....Ester just finished her finals (yeah, didn't you know Ester was in school?) and she is brain dead. So here's the predicament.


Ester is supposedly going to be buying something for Christmas for her best friend, Frannie. Ester, of course, is legendary for buying only in bulk. What could Ester buy Frannie that is funny? And that will have these Southern women wiping their foreheads with white hankies and lace doilies?


I am at a loss. I mean it, I thought buying Apirin in bulk was funny. But my Granny actually does that and I don't wnat to offend her. I considered by Frannie some pregnancy tests in bulk and then maybe some Estraven, but that seems like a total conflict of issues there. So, what is a good Jersey girl supposed to do? And if the idea of "bulk" is too hard - ditch it - just give me something. Come on, we can do it. We just have to think. Think of every ridiculous gift you ever got from your husband, your mother, your mother-in-law or your 3rd grade Sunday School teacher. Throw something at me and we'll just see if it sticks.

Okay, shoot!

How I know It's Thanksgiving.

It's Thanksgiving. And I'll tell you how I know.
I currently have 12 people staying in my home. And so the house I worked so hard to clean from top to bottom is now in complete shambles.
My child has forgotten how to say "mama" and now says "poppie" only and goes to everyone BUT me.
And someone keeps farting and won't fess up.
Yep, that's how I know it's Thanksgiving.

But I'll tell you how else I know.
As I sit here on the couch typing this I look around my downstairs and this is what I see...

My granny is sitting in my Vestal chair. (I am not angry about this for I have dealt with it in my heart.) But also because it's Granny and if she wanted to light my Vestal chair on fire you have to let her because - it's Granny. All hail Granny. She is the reigning queen. And she isn't the reigning queen because she deemed herself this but because she came to Tennessee as a widow this year. After 57 years she is alone on Thanksgiving. But she still came. And there she sits, after making dressing all day even though we told her not to. And after cleaning my kitchen even after we begged her to sit. And after chasing Remi around even though she has a bad knee and a slight limp. She is the queen - and only she can have the Vestal chair. I am so thankful she came. Although it isn't the same without our Pawpaw, I am so glad to have her. It wouldn't be the same if she wasn't here.

My aunt Melba is laid out in the recliner asleep. Again. And rightfully so for her and my Uncle Donald's 11 hour trip from Texas turned in to 16 hours after a flat tire. And considering the year they've had they deserve all the naps they want. I'm thankful I'm having Thanksgiving with them after Donald had open heart surgery and my aunt sat by his bedside. It's been a hard, and often cruel, year. But God is faithful and so here she lays - opening her eyes periodically to watch the news. And I love it.

I look over at my mom holding Remi close to her side. The refreigerator is wide open becusae it seems to be a nonie's job to offer anything and everything to a one year old to eat. Mac and cheese? No? Pizza? No? Cheese? No? Cake? No? Coke? No? (Yep, these are the horrific options a nonie gives a Remi) But just as soon as Nonie closes that fridge door Remi's head falls onto her shoulder. Seems like food wasn't what Remi wanted after all. Just her Nonie. I love that and I am thankful beyond belief.


Now I can barely write this due to the noise coming from my kitchen table. Who knew Monopoly could cause such a s stir? But when it's between David and my dad, my uncle Donald, my cousin Brandon and his girlfriend Shaunna, and my little sister Mallory...well, things get a little hairy. But as I watch them laugh and kid and throw things at each other I sit here thankful.

This house is as loud as it gets. It's as messy as it comes. But it's full of love. Absolutley chocked full of love. And I couldnt' be more thankful. Scripture says that "He sets the lonely in families." It's because of families like this. No one is lonely. And everyone is loved. And I, for one, am most thankful.

Oh...

And I'm more...McSteamy than McDreamy.
Just for the record.

I'm More...

I'm more...Law and Order:SVU than Law and Order:Criminal Intent.

I'm more...Staying up late on Friday night than Sleeping in late on Saturday morning.

I'm more...Conan O'Brian than Jay Leno.

I'm more...Marble Slab than Maggie Moo's.

I'm more...Thompson Station Grill than Jeffrey's.

I'm more...Grease than High School Musical.

I'm more...George Clooney than Brad Pitt.

I'm more...Pedicures than Manicures.

I'm more...Sushi than Seafood.

I'm more..."Where will we go eat?" than "Where will we go hike?"

I'm more...Marriott than Day's Inn.

I'm more...Sand than snow.

I'm more...Kerri, Rhonda, April, Kelli than Lindsey, Hillary, Brittany, Paris

I'm more...Makeup off than Makeup on.

I'm more...Foot massage than Back massage.

I'm more...Good than Bad.

I'm more...Selfish than selfless.

I'm more...Pop-off than pipe-down.

I'm more...Feelings on my sleeve than stiff upper lip.

I'm more...Tender than tough.

I'm more...Brave than bitter.

I'm more...Courageous than Cowardly.

I'm more...Sassy than Sweet.

I'm more...Fun than Boring.

I'm more...David than anyone else.

I'm more...Mom than I ever thought possible.

I'm more...Thankful than thoughtless.

I'm more...Loved than lonely.


What are you?

Nothin' a little chicken soup and The Golden Girls can't fix.

Day three. And I'm still sick.
I felt myself going down, down, down on Thursday night. And sure enough, by Friday morning I was down for the count. If you could see me now I'm a cliche'. Red, puffy eyes, runny nose, constant, nagging cough and the greasiest hair you've ever seen. Gross, I know. But I don't want to get in the shower, I want to stay under the sheets.

Here are some other things I want.

I want my husband to come home. He's been out of town for too long. He was out of town all last week. Came home for about 24 hours and left again. I want him to come home and pet on me.

I want Remi to magically be able to tee-tee in the potty, learn to use the microwave and speak in a soft whisper. Then she can rightfully go back to being one - but not right now, not while mommy's sick.

I want my dad to come visit me. Whenever I was little and was sick it was my dad who would spoil me rotten. Lunch hours would always be spent coming home with his hands full - a bottle of Coke (which Texans believe can cure any ill), kleenex, at least 2 movies and hand full of Archie Comic books. Sometimes he would even stop off at Wal-Mart for some warm pj's or fuzzy socks. (Ya'll excuse me while I grab a kleenex, not for my nose, for my eyes.)

If my mom is somewhere reading this right now I can assure you she is rolling her eyes. But she knows it's true. Dad was the spoiler, mom was the chicken soup maker. And still to this day I have to have it when I'm sick. David did go to Costco and buy me their deli Chicken soup which is the best I have ever had since mom's.

Fill me up a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup and turn on re-runs of the Golden Girls, and I am good to go for a little bit. But just a little bit. Soon the soup will run out and the re-runs will shut off - and then where will I be?? Stuck here on this couch.
I've read every book that's been laying around my house for years. Watched every show my TiVo has recorded. If someone out there really loved me they would drop a People magazine off in my mailbox.

Until then, I have to run...
Stan just bought Dorothy at a Bachelorette Auction and Blanche and Rose are helping her get ready for her date. Dorothy asked to borrow Jack's dress but Janet and Chrissy reminded him that Mr. Furley gave it to Jack and Karen who are using it for Grace's wedding that they are attending with Will. Which is ironic since Kramer told Jerry and Elaine that no wedding could happen on a Sunday if Matlock couldn't be there and he would surely be in court. And why they are holding court on a Sunday I do not know but Doug and Kerri will probably figure it out as long as Arthur doesn't drive them nuts in the mean time. Which reminds me that as soon as Captain Stubing docks this big huge boat and Gopher and Isaac get off Grissom and the gang can finally get on here and figure out who killed Laverne and Shirley.

Somebody...a People magazine. Please!!

Dear Blog Stalker,

I know you're out there. You think that I don't see you, but I do. You hide whenever "blogs" are mentioned; as if you don't' read them.
As if you know nothing about them.
As if the whole blogosphere is simply over your head.
HA!
You know exactly who you are and exactly what you are doing.

You use words like "lurking" or "peek." You say little comments like, "Oh, I forgot you had a blog. I'll have to check that out." Or my favorite, "What in the world is a blog?"
But you know what a blog is.
We all know what a blog is!
So quit hiding.
No - blogging is not necessarily the coolest thing in the world.
No - blogging will not get you any fame or fortune.
And no - blogging will not win you any contests.
But does it have to? I mean, can't we just have one thing that we do with pride that won't get us on YouTube? For Pete's Sake...

So all of you who blog, stand up proudly.
And for those of you who simply "lurk" at my blog without leaving a post....
leave a post. I know who you are. And the whole, "I can't get it to work..." thang just ain't gonna cut it anymore. Uh, huh. You know who you are.

P.S. I once saw a hat that said "Are you stalking me? God, I hope so." That hat is me in a nutshell and I should have bought it then and there.
If you see one like it - let me know.

Just something I was thinking about.

So, today I will try something new. I will try to write something that is a little personal to me. Something that "hits home, " if you will. I write funny little nothings all the time on this blog. And then go to bed filling up my journal with the personal stuff. Today I will try to write the real stuff down here.

I will give it 12 hours. And if after 12 hours I still feel horrendously naked and like the whole world is "looking at my business" then I will hit that little erase button and only me and probably one other person will ever even know that it existed.

At this moment I am sitting on my front porch. It looks so beautiful. David let me buy two big, fat pumpkins and two huge mums. And I say "let" because I didn't ask the price on them, I just took them to the register and then when I saw that they were over the price we had mutually agreed on in the car he let me get them anyway. Because there were people behind us in line and he knows that embarrasses me to have to say, "uh...never mind." He's good like that.

I also have a little scarecrow that my mom bought for me. Even though she's in Texas. The scarecrow was made possible by a thoughtful card reminding me how proud she was of me (why, I have no idea) and some money to "go buy something pretty for your house." She's good like that.

I am sitting on my lovely black wicker furniture that I got for my very first Mother's Day. A day that I had honestly decided would never happen for me. I had spent the last three Mother's Days in Atlanta. GA. It always falls on a Sunday and if you go to church and you are not a mother you must sit there as they have all the mother's stand and they applaud them. They applaud them for doing a job that you are unable to do. And as you look at them you wonder for a moment how much of a "woman" you really are. Because you should be able to do that very thing that all woman are designed to do, but you can't. And it is a blatant reminder on that day. That sad day.
This year I, too, stood and was applauded. But I felt torn. I looked around at this solidarity of sisters that I stood beside. Yes, we were in this thing together! We looked around and gave each other an invisible wink that said "yeah - we know what diapers are, we know what vomit looks like at 1 am, keep clapping men, keep clapping." But I had to look at my other sisters. Those who want desperately to stand up but can't. And my body yelled STAND! But my heart yelled SIT! So instead I just cried.
And yet, here I sit on my lovely porch furniture because this Mother's Day came around and I got to stay home.

My neighborhood looks so precious at this time of day. I hear a few birds and I hear my sweet ol' dogs bark occasionally at a low-flying bird or a fast moving squirrel. I live in the most All-American neighborhood in the world and out of the corner of my eye I see our American flag waving in the breeze. Aaaahhhh...

I listen closely for my little miracle to wake-up from her three hour nap. She is the best sleeper ever in the world, and when she wakes up she always does so with a grin from ear to ear. Give her some milk and a ba"nana" and all is right in her world. That time should come any minute now, so I should hurry.

And as I sit here typing I have beside me my pawpaw's Bible. The one he studied with so much he had to wrap the sides in masking tape. And I have it here in case I get an inkling to look something up. Because for some reason, when you look up something in that Bible it just seems to come easier. The looking for it, the reading it, the understanding it. It all comes to me more clearly when I am holding his Bible. And I am thinking about this heritage he left me. And how my love for this book and those words are due in large part to him. To the life he lived.

And I say all of this to say that as I look around I am reminded of the faithfulness of God. And that is what today is all about. I needed a gentle reminder of His faithfulness. His goodness.

My wish is that all of us could look around and see little reminders of God's faithfulness in our lives. I hope you are able to do that. But a responsibility comes with it.

For if you can look around and underneath all that laundry on your sofa you see that piece of furniture you begged your husband for and he finally relented and got it for you...

Or if you look in that kitchen and see a meal cooking on the stove and know that three months ago you didn't know how you all would even afford to pay bills much less get groceries...

If you are standing by a mirror and you can look in it to see your reflection when a year ago cancer said you wouldn't...

If you can barely read a sentence at a time because something little with sticky hands and a chocolaty face keeps running around screaming your name...

Or if you know you have to hurry because your husband will be home from work any minute and tonight is movie night, when a year ago you weren't sure you would spend another day together...

Then you have seen, been privy to, and been a recipient of - God's faithfulness.

Now here's the key. Here's what we do when we are reminded.
Here's what I did when my mom sent me that money.
Here's what I did when I first sat down on my wicker furniture.
Here's what I did when David loaded those pumpkins in the car for me.
And here's what I do almost every time I see little Remi.

I say, "Thank you."

So repeat after me, "Thank you. I love it. It was just what I wanted. You know me so well. You always make me happy. Thank you."