A Couple of Things.

Today is Friday. Aren't Fridays supposed to be fun?

I remember in elementary, Fridays were always for field trips. In middle school they were always for sleep overs. And in high school they were always the day I wore my best outfit. Just in case anyone was in the mood to ask me out...which they never were....I am now okay with this.

But on this particular Friday I will be packing up ten days of clothes, shoes, Batman paraphernalia (that every 2 year old girl must have, right?), bottles, dvds and stuffed animals and go traipsing through a Houston airport with 2 kids in my arms, sweat dripping from every pore in my body, a pulled hamstring and a husband with a stomach virus.

I would have voted for the good outfit. Heck, even a field trip to the local Post Office would have beaten this.

__________

Thank you Micheal Scott for one of the worlds greatest lines from last night's Office...

"I had a great time at prom and nobody said yes to that, either."

__________

Speaking of great lines. My mom has a refrigerator that is a blog post unto itself, believe me. If this tells you anything, my cousin Bailey once opened up the freezer and said, "Aunt Net, why do you have this really old frozen lettuce?"

Going through her fridge is like hunting for food in the outback - you never know what you're going to come across and you're scared to death when you finally do.

For instance, the other night I was in the middle of making a new recipe that called for a whole container of sour cream.
"Mom, didn't I put sour cream on the grocery list? I don't see any in the fridge."
"It's in the door."
"You mean this old container?"
"Yes."
"Mom, it expired two months ago."
"They just put those numbers on there, they don't matter, especially not for things like sour cream."

__________

A week or so ago I posted about my new favorite blog site The Homesick Texan. Love, love, love her recipes. Anyway, my friend Melissa (I didn't ask permission to link her so I'm not going to overstep here) corrected my error and I should have properly thanked her, but she's a friend that knows I love her and she's fairly low maintenance so I don't really have to tell her all the time.

Anyway the address is www.homesicktexan.blogspot.com

As I was reading the Homesick Texan's comment section I noticed that towards the end of every day she leaves a comment that is a quickie response to all previous commenter's. I think I'm gonna try that. (Look, I said I'm gonnna try it. As in, "I'm gonna try to start walking every day." "I'm gonna try to eat more flax in my diet." "I'm gonna try to go a different color on my hair this summer.")

Yesterday's post "What Do You Say" got such a heavy response from so many of you, and I was so excited to read every one of them, that I wanted to go and write you all personally - but who in this world has time for that? So I am going to try and start commenting on my comments. So we'll see how that goes. (Don't hold your breath...I'm still lazy, constipated and blond.)

In the mean time, thanks to all who left a comment yesterday. Those of you who differ in opinion thank you for giving me something to think about, to study, to pray about, and to seek wisdom for. That is exactly what I want this blog to be about. And to those of you who felt as I do on this topic, thank you as well. I've always known my opinions are right, it's good to know others do to. Oh, I'm only kidding! Lighten up.

__________

Have a good Friday everyone.

Make sure you do three things this next week:

1. Eat a hot plate of Mexican food.

2. Pray I make it through the airport with 2 children and a husband, cuz there's a good chance we're not all coming out alive.

3. Vote for Anoop. I find him adorable.

Bye now!

What Do You Say?

I desperately want to write about something funny today, because Lord knows I need a good laugh. But I'm all torn up tonight about something I read today. This excerpt is from Charisma magazine, it is in regards to Ted Haggard. Don't remember him? Maybe this will jog your memory.

Okay, now that we're all caught up, here is some of the article from J. Lee Grady, editor.

When Ted and his wife, Gayle, appeared on The Oprah Winfrey Show Jan. 28,

Gayle dared to defy Oprah and her audience.

Oprah is the closest thing we have to a high priestess of America's new morality, and she seems obligated to push the politically correct idea that it's OK to be gay. Oprah told Ted, who is now 52, that he should just accept his "identity" rather than hiding it or running from it. Then Gayle, who has raised five kids and knows a lot about discipline, struck a nerve. She told Oprah that just because a person has certain inclinations doesn't mean he has to act on them.

Oprah got upset at that point. She even got out of her chair and said to Gayle: "That's where I disagree with you"-and her audience cheered...

I was cheering for Gayle-not just because she has modeled Christian forgiveness during this embarrassing scandal but also because she clearly articulated the gospel during the interview. She stuck her neck out and defied the false religion of our times.

Oprah is the closest thing we have to a high priestess of America's new morality, and she seems obligated to push the politically correct idea that it's OK to be gay. She is paid a lot of money to promote this agenda, and she's good at it. She is articulate in her arguments and velvety smooth in her affirmation. Just come to Oprah, all you who are weary and burdened, and she will console you.

This "just accept who you are" argument certainly doesn't make sense for other categories of sinful behavior or emotional dysfunction. Consider these examples:

* I've prayed with countless people who struggle with addictions to alcohol, marijuana or prescription drugs. In most cases they were using the substances to numb their emotional pain and they hated their condition. When they received prayer ministry and counseling they found the grace to break free from these addictions. Can you imagine a counselor telling these people: "Why fight it? God gave you an addictive personality! Embrace it!"

* I know several single straight guys who struggle to stay sexually pure. They want to honor God and save sex for marriage, but sometimes they give in to the temptations of pornography or they cross barriers they shouldn't when they're dating. If I embrace Oprah's philosophy, I should just tell my friends to accept these temptations as their "identity"-as in, "Go ahead, God created you to be a fornicator! Let your hormones control you!"

* This week I met a man who spent more than 10 years in prison and is officially classified as a sex offender in police records. He found Christ during his first year of incarceration, and today he is a strong Christian. He has been out of prison for 10 years, and has had no further criminal incidents, yet he occasionally struggles with lustful thoughts. Should I tell him to stop trying so hard and just accept perversion as a way of life?

It would be absurd to discourage these people from seeking change. The very essence of the gospel is that Christ gives us the power to live a holy life. We are helpless to overcome sinful urges on our own, but when we have the presence of Jesus in our lives we discover the truth of Romans 6:14: "Sin shall not be master over you (NASB)."

God does not want us to stay the way we are! The apostle Paul told the Corinthians: "Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creature; the old things passed away; behold, new things have come" (2 Cor. 5:17). That is the hallmark of genuine Christianity.

Three years ago I decided to go for my Master's degree at a Christian University. Lots of people thought I did it for lots of different reasons - and I suppose I did. I want those letters behind my name, I won't lie. I also wanted to have more doors open in the area of my ministry. And my mom said she would buy me some cheese dip. So yes, I did it for several different reasons.

But one of the main reasons I did it, one that no one knows, is that I wanted to be able to put into words what I felt about certain issues regarding the church today; certain issues regarding our society; certain issues that Jesus would stand for and certain issues that He would not. I needed clarity on how I felt; I knew what I felt - but how do I say it? I thought going back to school would help me do that to some extent.

Maybe it has, maybe it hasn't. Personally, I've never been one to need help putting words to how I feel - but there are certain issues facing us (the church) that I get all bumfuzzled on.

This is one of those topics.

I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, indeed I am not. But I would hope that when the time comes I would stand for what I believe to be right - whether I say it perfectly or prophetically, or not. I suppose that is all Christ is asking for. Not that we speak perfectly - but rather, that we speak at all

If you ask my feelings on this particular issue I believe this video sums up perfectly how I feel.

Although I feel like logging off of this computer, turning off my phones, ignoring crying kiddos, lying on my couch with a huge bowl of ice cream and sleeping the day away - I can't.

I won't.

Would it be nice? Yes.

Would it be wise? No.

I would suffer. My kids would suffer. My home would suffer. And tomorrow I'd be more behind (literally and figuratively) than I was today. It would be a cycle of despair and frustration that I put myself in because I chose to do what I WANTED TO DO as opposed to what I know to be the right thing to do.

I would like to know your thoughts and feelings on this issue. They may differ greatly from mine, that's okay. I hope they do. After all, 80,000 people with feelings and thoughts exactly like mine, although wonderful to think about, would be quite boring. So tell me - in the best words you can (and I welcome your stumbling...makes me feel more human) - how you feel on this issue. I assure you, we are still friends.

Melissa

I Can't Show Pictures.

If I were to post pictures of this past weekend on this blog it would immediately take my blog to an "R" rating and thousands of pervs who like gore and humiliation would flock here like martins to a gourd.

Do you know what a gourd looks like when it has martins flocking to it? It ain't pretty, my friend.

(Actually I have no idea what that saying even means, but my mom says it all the time so I'm assuming it's pretty rad.)

This weekend the stomach virus showed up knocking at our door. At first I was like, "No, stomach virus, you may not come in. Jesus lives here." But then Remi was all, "Oh mom, let him in. He just wants to play. He won't hurt anything. Honest." And then I was all, "But Remi he will come in and try to steal that which is most precious: mommies time."

But she was all...well, suffice it to say - she won.

He came in. And he stayed.

He stayed for 24 hours and played / wreacked havoc on Remi. Then he decided to stay and wreak havoc on Rocco. Then he decided to stay and wreak havoc on my mom. And at this point I looked him directly in the eye and said, "So help me stomach virus, if you come anywhere near me..." I didn't really have a clever way to end that sentence, but let's just say he got the picture because 48 hours later and I am still in the clear.

There was a moment this past weekend when I was reminded of the words of that 1975 true Poet Laureate, Helen Reddy. I really am woman! HEAR ME ROAR! It might have been somewhere between washing three loads of laundry all before 7am due to vomit on the sheets. Maybe it was when a 6 month old decided that vomiting down my nightgown seemed as good a place as any. Or maybe it was when I went to tuck a 2 year old into bed and caught her vomit in my hands.

Oh, yes. I am woman! Hear me roar!

And listen, lest you all think I am some kind of superwoman that you aspire to be just like, please know that I am not. I am just like you. I put my pants leg on one at a time, too. I just do it at a super normal rate of speed and they are size 2 jeans. Hey, don't hate me because I'm beautiful.








Or because I reak.

The Blog Bachelorette: Meet The Parents Edition

Oh, how I love all of you who are participating in the Blog Bachelorette 2009 competition. And ohhhhhhh how I am so mad at all of you who are not.

Thank you for sending in pictures of your cousin, the dude your husband was in a fraternity with and your Sunday School teacher. This is an ingenious plan - if I do say so myself (and I do.) But it won't be as fun as it possibly could be if we don't have a hefty number of bachelors to choose from. So hop to, America!

What fun is it to be a Bachelorette if you can't be catty and break tons of hearts along the way? Isn't that why we all watch. Oh, and of course for that whole "true love" thing, too. Sure, whatever.

Oh, and to the faithful reader who just happens to be in charge of a certain singles ministry at a certain mega church in a certain mega city (you know who you are): I'm expecting a picture of our Bachelorette to be blown up and displayed at your next get-together. God put you in that position for one reason. To make my blog more interesting!

Like any good Bachelor episode this post wouldn't be complete without that horrifically awkward moment when the parents come in to play. And well, wouldn't you know it? Meridith's parents just happened to send me an email last week of their expectations. In order for you to get to know our Bachelorette, you might need to get to know them; because believe you me, she is a chip off the old...well, you know.

So enjoy her mothers rules. And if I were you, I would take her seriously and follow her instructions carefully. Trust me on this.

I'm just sayin'.

Okay, Melissa Paige: I gave birth to this child. She's flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone and, if you're going to auction her off for sale on the open market to the lowest bidder, I'm going to have some guidelines for this absurd little game of yours. (Note to readers: The Bachelorette's mom is completely okay with this absurd game; I asked permission. She just likes to act big and bad. Which she is. I'm not gonna lie.)

Some rules that little Mer's Momma insists you strictly adhere to:

- Under no circumstances can you give out her home address, your home address or the name of her workplace or cell phone number. I don't want her being followed, spied on, run off the road, calls involving heavy breathing (you may, however, give them my phone number). I spent countless hours watching Criminal Minds and Law & Order: SVU and I know how this whole blind date thing can get completely out of hand.

- I don't want her meeting anyone for the first time unless you and the AG are going to be there as a buffer. If he's a crazy, you can get her out to the car and lock the doors while the AG stalls him with mind-numbing endless chatter. I'm sure he'll let the AG go eventually. You can go back for him once Mer's safe in her apartment with the door locked.

- Just let them meet for the first time for a Starbucks latte so there's no real commitment on the line.

- I insist they not know any of the info in #1 until they've proven worthy to know, after at least meeting for a couple of months at some public place. She's very vulnerable up there in Nashville. She's a very good judge of character and I'm sure she'll have her own boundaries.

- No heavy drinkers or smokers, no drug-heads, porn stars, convicts. No one unemployed or even thinking about it. No taxi cab drivers, recovering addicts, high school drop-outs, carni-people or circus acts. And no snake-charmers! Mer hates snakes.

- He must be an honest, hard-working, God-fearing, Christian man with faith, character and integrity, and be able to prove it by the word of his friends, family and coworkers.

- A passion for Mexican food would definitely be a plus as would a love for movies and game nights with family or friends or just watching TV together.

- Tell them she's a romantic at heart. And she loves her Daddy and measures every man she meets by him.

- She's got my creative nature and cheery disposition. She isn't an emotional roller-coaster; she's very level-headed and balanced. She keeps a spotless apartment and is financially responsible. She's got a sweet sense of humor and is self-deprecating. Isn't a big spender nor is she high maintenance at all as some girls are. (Note to readers: I don't know who she is referring to when she says that some girls are high maintenance.)

I'm holding you both to that #1 and #2 for sure and, look at my face, I'm not kidding either. I'll hold you personally responsible should she get hurt in any way! (Note to readers: Oh, yes, "cheery disposition," indeed.)

Well, there you have it, my lovelies. The rules for what it takes to date Mer. Most of you out there are momma's - would you say she's asking very much? I wouldn't. But then again, I think Mer deserves the world as well. So what say we give it to her?

Join me, won't you? In bringing true love to the Internet! (Which I have a feeling is probably the tag line for many for many of the Internets finest porn sites. Sheesh.)

Maybe It's Just Me...

But something is starting to make me feel a little uncomfortable.

I arrived in Texas at midnight last night. That's right, midnight. It took nine hours to get to a state that it takes two hours to fly to. What does that tell you? Delays, delays, delays. But I try not to complain too much about it after hearing this; I mean, who wants to be a "non-contributing zero?"

Anyway, this morning when I woke up and settled in to a big comfy chair with some chocolate milk (cuz I'm a classy gal) I flipped on the TiVo and what I found was more than a little disturbing. For the record, let me state that my mom and dad have TWO SEPARATE TiVo's. His is in the living room and it records things like Golf, Fox News, Lost and 24. Hers, however, is in her bedroom and it records these:

48 Hours: Hard Evidence
Forensic Files
Dominick Dunne: What Price Murder?
Dominick Dunne: Blood Money
Dead Men Talking
Crime Stories
Parole Board
Law and Order: Criminal Intent
Case Crackers
Dateline on ID
48 Hours Mystery
In Cold Blood

And last but not least..

Snapped: A nurse who was bored with her job and marriage, murders her husband in his sleep, sets fire to the house and tries to collect the insurance money.

Okay, is it just me or is that weird? My dad and I have often worried that my mom goes a little above and beyond in the ol' True Crime genre, but this just doesn't seem healthy to me. Of course it's my poor dad who wakes up every morning seeing this on the nightstand beside him...



He says this is the reason he buys her so much jewelry. I would too.

My mom. This is the same women who came to visit me in Tennessee and brought three books with her:
her NIV Bible,
Seven Things That Steal Your Joy by Joyce Meyer
and
Evil Beside Her: The True Story of A Texas Woman's Marriage to a Dangerous Psychopath.

(Hey Joyce! I think I found an 8th thing that can steal your joy.)

Power To The People.

Remember on January 1st when all of us set unrealistic expectations of how we were going to EAT HEALTHY!

LOSE WEIGHT!

NOT YELL AT OUR KIDS SO MUCH!

LOSE WEIGHT!

Yeah, me too.

But then something terrible happened. Life.

We got a new President, our economy went and crashed - big time, Mariska Hargitay had a lung collapse and so SVU was postponed for three weeks, Mamma Mia came out on DVD, Remi got a lot more "two" than is fair to any living being...okay, I think you see where I'm going with this.

Life happens and the last thing we think about is how to eat healthy and lose weight. Instead we find ourselves Googling "quick casserole recipes" and "creative ways to discipline your child without screaming and damaging vocal chords." Please someone! Tell me I'm not alone!

But just when you think you're alone...

Just when you think there is no one who understands...

Just when you think that staying up all night with indigestion and guilt is your lot in life...

Along comes the Infomercial.

Thank God for the infomercial. Had it not been for the Paid Advertisements on channel 26 from 11PM - 4AM I would never have discovered BareMinerals, the Magic Bullet or The Snuggly(yes, I have one, and I love it. I am secure in who I am.)

And now I have........drumroll please.........

The Jack LaLanne Power Juicer!

Oh yeah, I am really excited about this. I mean seriously, this economy has done nothing to stifle my desire to buy carrots, strawberries, mango's and guava in bulk at Costco. And don't think people don't stare at me when I walk out of the grocery with 18 cucumbers. That's okay, I can take it. In six to eight weeks I wonder who will be laughing then? Cuz I'll be slimming down just in time for swimsuit season. Of course I'll probably be "backed up" for days on end but it's a small price, small price, to pay.

Of course, I suppose that depends on who is in the pool with me when the guava takes effect.

Hey, quick question: What infomercial has drawn you in hook, line and sinker? What item now sits in your home unused or what infomercial product can you now not remember living without?

To The Man I Love.

I know sometimes I act like this.

And I'm sorry.

But it's only because I get sick of doing this three times a day...

And having to be this at all times to all people.

Not to mention that I spend my day with this...

And this.

And yet every evening I get this from you?

You seriously expect this?

Cause I'm pretty sure I look like this.

Thus, this, isn't happening. And if you think it is...

You're more this than I thought.

And You Thought The Bachelor Was Over.

Well, my lovelies, it's Monday. Do you know what that means? It means that once upon a time The Bachelor came on every Monday evening on ABC, from 7pm-9pm. And like sheep being led to the slaughter we would all curl up on our couch with a big spoon of cookie dough and hope to goodness he would choose Melissa and they would live happily ever after.

But like sheep - we were dumb. He did choose Melissa. But they didn't live happily ever after. And all we got out of it? Four extra pounds...of cookie dough. Maybe I'm just speaking for myself, but I don't think so. I think we all are guilty of falling in love with the idea of falling in love. The problem with the Bachelor is those pesky cameras. They're everywhere. And how can you really figure out where you stand with someone when there are three cameras and fifteen crew members in the backseat with you? I imagine it must make for some really awkward small talk.

And so, as usual, and as with most things in my life, I think I have a better solution. I think The Bachelor doesn't have to be on television to work. I don't think there have to be cameras everywhere. I don't think there have to be red roses flown in from Angola once a week. And I'm pretty sure that a hot tub does not a marriage partner make.

And so I plan on doing something about it. And I need your help.

You see, every one of you, every single one of you, know someone in your life right now that is single. And it's that kind of person that whenever you think of them being single you think, "why? Why is this person still single? Whom must God have for them? And why haven't they come yet?"

And so I say we do something about it.

But since this is my blog and it was my idea - I get to go first.

Because when I think about The Stretch Marks Blog Bachelorette I think, "why is she still single?" She is one in a million, she is priceless, and if I have anything to do with it she will fall in love and give me 100% of the credit. It's how God intended.

Meet our 2009 Blog Bachelorette.

Meridith is my cousin. Her brother Brandon, herself and I grew up within walking distance of each other. Our mothers, who are sisters, are the bestest of friends and so the three of us grew up more as siblings really than as cousins. But when I was 20 and Mer was only 10 I got married and moved away. So for the past several years of our lives Mer and I have loved each other from a 700 mile distance. Until recently...

Mer moved to Nashville about 6 months ago. She has her Bachelor's Degree (no pun intended) in Elementary Education and hopes to teach school somewhere in the area by next year. She has spent the last several years of her life working in her church music department. She is a great singer and loves directing choirs and leading in worship.

I suppose it's at this juncture that I give you Meridith's worst fault: she's not a big animal lover. She's allergic to cats and gags at the smell of dog food. But I suppose I can move past it considering she sure does love my kids.






She's excellent with them and I shudder at the number of children God must have planned for her. After all, God always give lots of children to those whose favorite pastime is sleeping late. And that brings us to another part of Mer, her loves...

She loves sleeping late.

And she loves LOST. (But she really loves Jack.)

She loves cookie dough and the salad bar at Jason's Deli.

She loves pedicures but is too good with her money to ever splurge on them.

She loves Mexican food almost more than her own life.

She loves Mission Impossible III but is not a huge Tom Cruise fan.

She adores going to the movies and as disappointing as it is to me, refuses to eat popcorn.

She loves her family and is a daddy's girl alllllllll the way.

You can make her whole week just by promising her a night at home with Dr. Pepper and a deck of cards.

She's been in relationships - she's even been in love. But none of them made her want to try to squeeze into some white satin. And that's why she's still single.

She is a fiercely loyal friend and is a great listener.

I adore her.

Lastly I would like to say that Meridith is a fierce follower of Christ. His will is her desire. No if's, ands or buts. Though I once asked her, "What if you meet someone who isn't as dedicated a Christian as you?" To which she replied, "I'm always up for a good challenge."

So remember when I asked you to think of someone you know that's single? Well, let The Bachelorette begin. I want to know who they are. Do you have a nephew? A brother? Someone you go to church with? Someone you work with or live on the same street as? Well, bring. 'Em. On.

The Bachelorette can only survive with you. If there are no Bachelor's then this is pretty much just a post about my cousin, and well, I'm fairly certain that's boring. But together you and I can do more for true love than ABC ever thought about.

So grab you a bowl of cookie dough, pull a blanket over you and get to work. I want pictures, I want info., I want the 4-1-1.

Comments will be closed whenever I am posting about The Bachelorette. I only want comments (and trust me, I want them) sent directly to my email. melissalee@thestretchmarksblog.com Let's make this personal, shall we? Besides the last thing I want is someone leaving a comment about their 9th grade science partner who just got out of San Quentin and is looking for a good cook. Email seems to be a bit more personal and also a bit more private.

For each email I receive I will email you back. Meridith might as well. We'll ask questions and we'll let you get to know her a little better. And then come heck or high water we will make sure Meridith gets a chance to meet your Bachelor; whether it be by email, phone or even face-to-face. And for those of you who don't know of anyone single - don't worry - we'll keep you updated every step of the way.


So send me your thoughts.
Send me your ideas.
Send me your suggestions.
Send me your brothers.

And if he freaks and says, "I ain't letting you post my picture on some blog for the whole world to see." Remind him that there are, on average, 12 people who read this blog and he shouldn't flatter himself by thinking we would want to post his picture. We're all about playing hard to get.

Oh, and just so you know...I have Meridith's permission to do this. Her thoughts are, "Why not? What do I have to lose? I'm a catch." Okay, that's what I said. What she actually said is, "Oh Lord, Oh Lord, Oh Lord, are you serious? Are you sure? What if someone tries to buy me dinner and then tries to kill me?" But after I smooth talked her and took her to Jason's Deli, she was putty in my hands.

ABC...you ain't got nothin' on my girl.

George Clooney AND a Double Doozie? It's All Just Too Much.

I'm letting the fact that my mom lost my daughter outside in 30 degree weather and ended up having to call 911 slide due to the fact that she bought me some clothes and took me to the Cookie Co. But I tell you what, if there were no cookies involved, I would really be hacked.

But all is well. Remi was found, perfectly safe and not a bit cold. And I got a double doozie. So see? God is good.

On another note, I'm typing this post as I'm watching George Clooney appear for the first time on ER in years. In fact, I don't think I've seen a single episode since he left the show. And I don't know about you but seeing George in a pair of scrubs makes me want to pray for the flu or an emergency appendectomy all over again.

I don't know what you all have planned this weekend but I hope it as full as mine will be; my dad and little sister will be joining the already on-going party that is my mom tonight, in order to be here for sweet Rocco's dedication at church this weekend. What a privilege it will be to give back to God what He so faithfully lent to me. I love that little man...his fat thighs are my greatest pleasure. And that's saying a lot, because my fat thighs have also brought me immense joy through the years.

Love to you all. Oh, and please join me here on Monday as I unveil what will go down in the history books as a blog that will change America forever.

And I'm not talking it up too much, believe you me. I've never been one to exaggerate. NEVER EVER EVER.

Happy Friday.

Does Your Personal Utopia Involve Your Mother? Lord Help Me, Mine Does.

Tonight as we were riding in the car I was reading off questions from my newly purchased book, Conversation Piece. Maybe it's just me, but I llllooooovvvvee books that pose random questions that those around you are forced to answer. At least those that are around me are.

Here was one of the questions me, mom and Meridith tried to answer:

Envision the most perfect scene you can think of - a personal utopia, if you will. Imagine a scene that would be so lovely you would never, ever want to leave. What would it be? Who would be there? What would it look like?

You wanna know something really sad? Meridith's personal utopia involved something wonderful and romantic, something elaborate and grand, whimsical and fantastical. But when mom and I envision our "personal utopia" it involves a table with everyone sitting around it eating. (I think I might need to see a professional about this. I don't think there's any inkblot in the world that would have trouble diagnosing this problem.)

So on that sad note, allow me to introduce you to something else you might find in my personal utopia...or at least something you might find sitting on my table in my personal utopia.

You can find this little gem at http://www.thehomesicktexan.blogspot.com/


You don't have to thank me. Just promise me that when you envision your personal utopia, you will envision me sitting around the dinner table with you, will you? Thank you.


Oh, and if you're hanging out with your momma tonight like I am, then make yourself a big bowl of this, because oh sweet mercy, it was divine...

Ninfa’s Green Sauce

Ingredients:

3 medium-sized green tomatoes, coarsely chopped (you can substitute yellow if you can’t find green ones, but never use red)

4 tomatillos, cleaned and chopped

1 to 2 jalapenos, stemmed and coarsely chopped

3 small garlic cloves

3 medium-sized ripe avocados, peeled, pitted and sliced

4 sprigs cilantro

1 tsp. of salt

1 1/2 cups of sour cream

Method:

Combine chopped tomatoes, tomatillos, jalapenos and garlic in a saucepan.

Bring to a boil (tomatoes provide the liquid), reduce heat and simmer 10 to 15 minutes.

Remove from heat and let cool slightly.

Place tomato mixture with the avocados, cilantro and salt in food processor or blender and blend until smooth.

Pour into a bowl and stir in sour cream.

Makes 4 to 5 cups.

Add some Julio's chips....

And leave me a love note in the comments.

The Last Time I Talked To My Mother...Was Today.

My mom has some outrageous ideas for my blog.

And please picture that when I say "outrageous" I am using a really funny voice that is dripping with sarcasm and waving my hands in the air like it's some sort of mad house effect.

Mom just tends to feel (and feel sorry for me, because I'm quoting here) that "your world view tends to be so limited, Melissa, since all you do is stay inside the house and hang out with babies."

Ya know...when your 50+ year old mom tells you that your worldview is limited because you just aren't living enough, well, it makes a girl want to re-evaluate. KnowwhatI'msaying? I mean, if I didn't want to kill myself before, I'm pretty sure I do now. So thanks for that, mom.

Unfortunately since she reminded me of my boring existence things haven't really picked up, so I'm stuck doling out old stories that she reminded me of today when we were on our way to the grand opening of ROSS.

(Oh, wait. I went to the grand opening of ROSS...well, if that isn't blogworthy I don't know what is. Wow! My life is pickin' up even as we speak.)

Mom and I find it fascinating when Meridith and Bubba tell stories about their childhood. Not that they didn't have a good childhood, they did. It was just...different. Whereas I was raised by a mom and dad and I had a dog, they were raised by a mom and dad and had 12 dogs. Every single dog they ever owned was struck by a car. I kid you not. Every single dog. And it's not like they lived along I-65, they lived 14 miles out in the country. But still...every dog. Dead. By car.

Except for the one episode where their mom paid for a Cocker Spaniel to bring home to them, just so Meridith could have a dog to take to show and tell in her 2nd grade class. But once their mom got home she called my mom down to their house and told her, "Annette, maybe I just don't know dogs very well, but this doesn't look like any Cocker Spaniel I've ever seen." My mom said it was the smallest, runtiest, short haired black mut she had ever seen. It was the opposite of a Cocker Spaniel in every way. Within 24 hours the dog had died from worms and Meridith never did get to take it to show and tell.

Even as I'm sitting here typing this - and laughing at their pain - I just asked Meridith what that dog's name was, to which she replied, "It didn't have a name...we never had time to name it. It died right after we got it home."

Aaaahhhh...good times.

Speaking of Meridith and Bubba. Their grandpa's name was Al. He was kind of mean. I can say that since he's passed on now, and trust me, Meridith agrees the man was cranky. But it reminds me of the time my mom went to visit Al and his wife, Margaret, when they were getting older and they served her a piece of cake. Her hands were full, with her purse and and a plate full of cake, so Margaret said, "Al, take her cake from her for a minute so she can sit her purse down and cross her legs." To which Al replied, "What? She can't cross her legs."

Mom said she has never wanted to jump a senior citizen so bad in all her life.

And that, my lovelies, is called "thinking outside the box."

Sitting inside the house all day with two babies is fine, as long as you can reflect on other people's misery and post it online.

I love this job.

If It's Not One Thing It's Your Mother.

My mother is in town.

Expect this week's posts to be vivid and colorful, to say the least. The very least.

I was pleasantly surprised when she flew in to see me and the kids this weekend. It would be great to have her here since the AG has been traveling so much with work. She might not be the cornerstone of First Aid (i.e. I caught her trying to give a small strawberry to my 6 month old. Just so you know, that can result in DEATH) but the woman can cook.

Of course, here's the proverbial question for anyone who's ever had a surprise guest: How do you, without appearing rude, get the 4-1-1 on how long they'll be staying?

You can't just say, "So....it's great you're here. When you headed back?"

And this doesn't work, trust me, I've tried it: "So let me see your plane ticket? I gotta see where you sat."

So what do you say?

With anyone else you might have to tiptoe around the issue, not with your mother. Or at least not with mine. Heck, she'd ask me. I mean, this is the same woman who once called me at work and asked me if I had "brushed my teeth and put on 'bo-bo.'"

"Uh, mom. I'm 27, so can you stop calling it 'bo-bo?'"

"You haven't answered my question."

"I don't have to answer your question. I'm 27. I am at a place of business. I think that should be a fairly positive sign that I brushed my teeth and put on deodorant."


"Well, you never know. I had to remind you to brush your teeth every day you were in high school."

"Okay, I have to go now..."

"Don't hang up on me, I called you. You can't hang up when I call you. I get to hang up."

"Well, then will you hang up?

"No, I'm not done talking to you."

"What do you want, mother?"

"I want to know if you brushed your teeth and put on bo-bo?"

"Yes. I brushed my teeth and I put on deodorant. I also ate my fiber and wore my seatbelt."

"Fine." Click.

HA! I had forgotten to brush my teeth that day!! Take that! And I certainly didn't eat fiber. Fiber is for losers.

So anyway, she walked in on Friday, gave me a huge hug and proceeded to say, "Your neck looks dirty. Do you use a loofah?" And I proceeded to ask, "So mom, when you headed back?"

"I just got here. And your already ready for me to go?"

"No, I'm not. I'm just curious as to when you have to go. I want us to be able to do so so much while you're here and I need to know how to plan."

"Uh, huh, right. What color is your hair?"

"Well, it's kind of a..."

"And it's long. Gosh, it's gotten so long."

*Note to readers: When someone says "you're hair has gotten so long," and that's all they say - then what they are actually saying is, "so what are your plans with all that hair you got there? Got any ideas on what your going to do with it? Cause you can't just let it continue to hang there like that?"

"Well, yeah, I'm trying to let it grow. You look good, mom."

"I'm old. And my bones hurt from sitting on that plane so long. You know I think my plurisy is back. Do you have any Tylenol? And do you have any bananas, my potassium is low. Also, you might need to run to the store and get my Diet Coke. You never have Diet Coke and you know how I have to have my Diet Coke. I thought you were showing your house this week in order to sell it? You let people come into this house looking like this? What is that one the floor? Potatoes? Where are the kids? Have they been good? You spank Remi too much."

"Hey mom, show me your plane ticket. I wanna see where you sat!!"

To Whom It May Concern,

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

It's Why 'The Duchess' Stunk.

Kids.

They really stink up a movie.

Take Pride and Prejudice. No kiddies in that movie. And it rocked.
Emma? Were kids in it? Didn't think so. And I loved it.
Sense and Sensibility? Nope. And guess what? It was awesome.

But The Duchess? There were kids in it. And I fell asleep halfway in.

I bring this bit of movie trivia knowledge to you because several days ago Meridith and I were watching one of our favorite period movies when one of the lead characters came down with scarlet fever and was quarantined for three whole months. THREE WHOLE MONTHS!

Can you imagine? Three months of being exiled to your room and not being able to do anything but eat and read and watch T.V. (Except in the 1800's it was probably eat, read and listen for approaching gunfire, but still...)

THREE WHOLE MONTHS.

And it was at that point in the movie that I said, "Lucky son of a gun. I would give anything to get the scarlet fever."

Of course I didn't mean it. I really don't want scarlet fever, per say. I just like the idea of being quarantined. Of having people bring me meals and leaving them at my door and then coming back for my dirty dishes.

And then I got the flu.

And just like The Duchess and Children of the Corn 1,2 and 3 - children really stunk it up.

They didn't care. They didn't for one second care that I was running a fever or had lost my voice. And when I asked them to bring me my meals and leave me alone, do you think they did it? No. In fact, once Remi actually told me, "Mom, if you say you are sick one more time I am going to give you swats."

Just like movies, date nights, happy hour and scarlet fever - kids can really stink 'em up.

Everything's Amazing and Nobody's Happy.

Dear Readers of Stretch Marks.

Thank you for reading my wife every day. I think she's brilliant. I just wish this blog thing paid.

However, she is also EXACTLY who this comedian is referring to in over half of this segment. Therefore I have hacked in to her computer and put this up. She won't mind. She finds me attractive.

So when you watch it please know that he was referring to her at 1:40 seconds in, and he was referring to her mother at 2:40 in. He must know them personally. Because believe you me, if Melissa's cell phone doesn't always work perfectly - or God forbid, her computer - the planets will stop turning in their rotation. And her mother? Let's just say that we have never picked her up once at the airport that she doesn't have a sob story to tell or a tragedy that has ensued.

So as he says, "everything's amazing and nobody's happy."

And there you have it.

Happy Hump Day,

The Attorney General

My Momma Met My Daddy On The T.V.

I don't know why I used that title but as I watching The Bachelor: After The Final Rose tonight, and seething through my teeth, I thought it up in my head and giggled at it.

And after 108 hours of Jason Mesnick, I needed a good giggle.

I've never been one for watercooloer talk...(oh, who am I kidding? I would put a watercooler up in my living room if it meant you all would come by and talk to me about the latest scoop.)...but this season of The Bachelor has got me all fernickdadiggled. (I don't know, but Rose used it once on episode 208 of The Golden Girls "All Bets Are Off". Must be a St. Olaf thing.)

I am going to need you all to leave me and Meridith a comment about your thoughts because we are really wanting to discuss this with the AG and Bubba and well, they just don't seem to care very much. I spent twelve hours telling the AG every last detail and the only thing he said was, "So you're saying he picked the girl with the bangs or the other one?"

What??

They both had bangs!!! Sorta. But that is so not the point. Although I would like to state for the record that the man knows me well enough to know that I can't really trust a woman unless she has some good "bang-age", so suffice it to say I certainly don't devote an entire season of television with her no-banged self - unless they are stately and side swept like Melissa or Jillian. Thank you.

And I would also like to say to Molly, "girl, you do not know how to work a good bang. Puh-leeze, girlfriend."

But Jason Mesnick, Mr. Dapper, Mr. Daddy 2009, Mr. All-I-Want-Is-To-Love-And-Be-Loved-In-Return, went and did the unthinkable. Dumped a woman on national television.

Now Jason. You can do a lot of things.

You can kiss several women and tell them all that you'll call 'em.

You can look one woman in the eye while goosin' another.

You can smile for the camera and you can lie for the camera.

You can drink 19 bottles of wine a night.

You can even lose the ability to ever father another child after spending that much time in a hot tub.

But you cannot - I repeat, CAN NOT - dump a TEXAS GIRL ON T.V.

Now that's not to say that you can dump a Ohioan (is that a word) or a Georgian or even a Arizonian, it just means that none of them will call their brother's drinkin' buddies and have them burn your house down at night.

A Texas girl will.

As she should.

Or at least this one should.

So Melissa! Take heart! Your heart will not be broken for long. For you, my dear, may have been dumped on national television but I betcha I know what will make it allllllll better.

It might not be a tux. But there's nothing like a man in uniform.

Oh, and he doesn't drink wine.

He once got a rash in a hot tub.

And he'll be glad to take you out just as soon as he gets back from burning down someones home.

That's a Texas man, for ya.

Weekend Recap: What Weekend?

Some would say the fact that my mother-in-law was coming in to town and I spent the entire weekend in bed was "well played, Melissa, well played." But this illness was real. It was 100% the flu. Not the made up kind of illness that I'm so prone to pull out of the hat whenever something is on my calendar that I'm trying to avoid.

I even asked my Dr. if he would write a letter that I could give to the AG simply stating that I was, in fact, running a fever and had tested positive for the flu. But he snickered and made a joke about being in junior high again and needing to get out of P.E., so I didn't push it.

Thankfully my in-laws arrived just in time to spend 72 hours with my babies and the AG - and all of a collective 30 minutes with me. Thank the sweet Lord for them, I kid you not! I've had the chills, the fever, the nausea, the sore throat, the cough, the body aches, and - let's all give a big high five for the AG - the laryngitis. (The man was thrilled!)

When I finally awoke from my sleep induced coma this morning I turned over to see that Mr.T is selling convection ovens on infomercials. Bless his bling.

Needless to say I'm pulling the covers back over my head now and I shall re-appear when Ralph Macchio begins selling exercise equipment or Joyce Dewitt has her on show on MSNBC. Until then...more Nyquil please.