I'm Thinkin' I Didn't Marry A Bachelor.

Not that I'm saying The Attorney General was married already. Trust me, I would know. I've read all about those polygamist sects in Utah, so trust me, I could spot one at thousand paces. Plus, their church directory pic always looks like this.

"Yes, you! Little girl with the long hair and braids....smile!"

No, the reason I know I didn't marry a Bachelor is because I finally got to watch Monday nights Bachelor episode and well, The AG wasn't anything like that. Granted he married me circa 1994 so maybe I just can't remember that far back, but I'm pretty sure our moments together were nothing - nothing! - like this. Let me give you some examples.

Three Ways You Know You and Your "Bachelor" Are Not Part of an ABC Prime time Show:

1. You don't play hide-and-seek. You barely even run.

I'm not saying hide-and-seek isn't a fun game. It is. It entertains my 3 year old for hours on end. But as a grown up, I cannot say that were I to go to a vineyard I would play hide-and-seek with my love. How do I know this? I've been to a vineyard. I didn't play any games. Certainly not any games where running and ducking were involved. Rather, I sat motionless at a bar for 2 hours and listened to someone use terms like "pesticides" and "biologically integrated farming". Then I took a sweep of the gift store, purchased three bottles of salad dressing and waited in line for the vineyard tour with 40 couple over the age of 70. The young couples went on the walking tour. Suckers!

2. At the end of your date you don't go on and on about how wonderful it was - you tell the truth.

And here is where my penchant for brutal honesty comes in; but at one point in the vineyard date Jake says that Gia "is a big city girl and yet here she is loving the outdoors and yada yada yada" and I'm thinking to myself, "what the heck else is she supposed to say?" I'm guessing she wouldn't be holding that rose in her hand were she to really say "Jake, this is not my idea of a good time. You must have misunderstood me. I didn't say I like wine and olives. I said I like the Olive Garden. Hear the difference?"

The AG tells me that is why he fell in love with me. My honesty. On our first real date he tried to by-pass the popcorn and cokes at the movies since we had just had dinner, to which I reminded him, "I don't come to the movies without getting popcorn. Ever. You need to know this upfront. And also, you just bought me a pizza buffet, so don't go gettin' all snooty on me." To which he replied, "you know how they started bringing out all those pizzas when that school bus full of footballers pulled up?" "Yeah." "Well, it wasn't because of that school bus full of footballers."

God, I love that man.

3. You do not - under any circumstances - ride a Dune Buggy.

Did I even spell Dune Buggy right? Because I haven't seen a dune buggy since Scooby and the Gang had to fight off that sand monster that was scaring the whole town. So I was a little shocked they still existed. I was especially shocked when all the girls readily jumped in them and not one was hear saying, "You know what? I'll wait back here at the picnic table for you all. I have a bone in my leg."

Seriously? These are the moments when The Bachelor is unrealistic to me. Not one of those women complained of having to sit out due to:

1. cramps

2. bloating

3. Migraine

4. lower back pain

5. birthing hips

6. over processed hair

7. a bad mani/pedi.

What did God give us those excuses for ladies if you aren't gonna whip them out whenever your love wants to ride a Dune buggy or have sex? C'mon!!!!!!

Okay, so those are my three. If you watched The Bachelor on Monday night, or even if you didn't, go ahead and tell me why you would never be asked to be on a show like this. Because I can almost bet, if you are reading this blog right now you are NOT riding in a Dune Buggy with a man holding a rose. I'm just sayin'.

In Some Strange Way, Yes. Yes, I Do.

Ten Reasons Why There Is No Bachelor Post.

1. I didn't get to watch it.

Okay, maybe there is only one reason why there is no bachelor post. But that title just didn't seem as official as "Ten Reasons..."

But for cryin' out loud, since you all just can't make it a day without my Bachelor post I will go ahead and give you the full scoop on why I don't have it. Bunch of cry babies. (I know, I know, I'm exaggerating just a smidge, but this is my blog.)

So here really are 10 Reasons Why There Is No Bachelor Post:

1. I didn't get to watch it.

2. I am in Houston at St. Luke's hospital with my family. And although there is a television in the waiting room I find it difficult to scream at the TV, throw my drink across the room and yell things like "don't kiss her, she buys her clothes two sizes too small!" when there are people in there who are sad.

3. Remi was not a very good girl at school today. She brought home a bad report. Very bad. Very very bad. So I was in no mood for Vienna. No mood at all.

4. It is 9:16pm as I am writing this and both of my children are still very much awake and screaming and wailing and throwing their bodies in the air and gnashing their teeth and foaming at the mouth. So no, watching my favorite reality show? Not really an option.

5. I would have tried to make The AG watch it and give me the low down, since he stayed home and didn't come to Houston. But he took my Granny on a date. Yes, you heard that right. He took my Granny to her Genealogy meeting at the library and then out to eat - because He is the most precious thing God ever created. And therefore asking him to watch The Bachelor seemed a wee bit like I was pushing it.

6. Meridith is with me. And since her heart is pretty invested in her daddy right now I couldn't quite ask her to invest it in Jake. Although she did lean over and whisper to me at one point, "I'd rather be watching the Bachelor." And of course, I knew she would. Who wouldn't? It's escapism at its best.

7. This has nothing to do with The Bachelor but my Granny said that when The AG walked into the library "he looked so tall and handsome and he was wearing the most beautiful tie and all the women in the room were really taken with him." Which means the boy still has the ability to delight me and a room full of 70 year olds. Love it!

8. At one point during the course of putting my kids to bed and strapping myself into a rubber suit I glanced at the TV and noticed Jake was sending home some women and some other women were really upset and then a couple of them were drinking champagne and then one was crying. So I'm assuming last nights episode was not any different than any. other. Bachelor. episode. in. history.

9. Dear 2010, please put TiVo systems in hotel rooms. Sheesh. Do I have to think of everything?

10. I promise you, on the life of my mother and my mothers mother and my mothers mothers mother, that I will watch The Bachelor when I get home and I will post the skinny on it right here on this little blog. Unless, of course, I have to stay in Houston longer than expected. My husband deleted it to make room for another football game, Nascar race or Fringe episode. Or The AG runs off with my Granny. Then I can make no promises.

Later alligators!

The Hindi Word For "Flirt" is Ishqbazi. Just ask Meridith.

Last week I tried a little Facebook experiment. Which is ironic, since, to this day, I have no idea what to do on Facebook. Only a week ago I found out that I have a "profile" section where I can go and read all of my old posts. I just assumed I wrote something and Facebook decided whether or not it was worthy of posting, because I never see anything after I write it. I just assumed they were aware that my thoughts were as random and pointless as I know them to be.

Anywhoo...

So last week I got this notion (a notion is something that comes to you when you finally - FINALLY - find yourself alone in the bathroom. Seriously, it is a rush! If you can accomplish some private bathroom time, you can conquer the world. It was a private bathroom experience that gave me the notion to: perm my hair, cut Remi's bangs, purchase a glue gun and buy a George Foreman grill.........uhhhh, I'm starting to see that "notions" are ridiculous.)

But I digress...

So last week I get this notion to put a message up on Facebook that if you know Meridith then to please text her on Tuesday and tell her that you love her. That was it. Just text her. Type in "I love you." And get out. No extra words. Extra words are stupid. Just get to the point. I just felt like Meridith, who has spent every waking minute in the hospital with her folks, might find it enjoyable to get a ton of text messages throughout the day of people showing their love.

And boy did the people turn out!

(Hey people, where were you when I bought that Foreman grill? That's $49.99 I'll never get back, thankyouverymuch.)

So many people left me comments that they would text her. People she knew from her job, from her church. People she didn't know; people from Tennessee, friends of mine that she's never even met. But so many have heard of what is going on with her folks and they all wanted to be a part.

Can I get a whatwhat for the body of Christ????????

So the big day came. Tuesday. I was going to be with her and it was going to be awesome. I figured she would start getting texts around 10am and I would be there and before you knew it she would be like, "Ahh, so many people are sending me love today. God is so good. And whoever made this happen is also good. I am blessed. And now I am praying blessing on the life of who did this. 'Lord, may they always find love in their friendships and may you keep their roots from growing out at such an expedient rate. Amen'." At least that's how I saw it goin' down in my mind.

But this is actually what happened:

I arrived at the hospital about 45 minutes after the first text message was received. In fact, at that point it was the only one that had been received. And funny enough, the first one came from my friend and fellow blogger Miss Aja Shoup. Unfortunately for Meridith, she doesn't know Aja Shoup. She also didn't know that she would be getting text messages. She also didn't know they would only state, "I love you."

So as I'm making my way off the elevator at St. Luke's hospital in Houston, Texas, Meridith grabs my arm and says, "I need to talk to you."

"What? What is it?"

"I just got a text message."

(I smile the best self righteous smile I can muster up) "And?"

"And all it said was 'I love you.'"

"Who was it from?"

"Someone named Aja Shoup."

"Do you know who this is?" I asked.

"I wasn't sure. So I told mom and she told me..." (she pulls me in closer now) "that she thought it was that Indian nurse from the 11th floor."

I bite my lip.

"Melissa, there is an Indian nurse on the 11th floor who loves me. Mom said she caught her staring at me and so it must be her. What do I do? She said she loves me. Loves me! Loves. Me."

What I find interesting at this point is
a. Aja is not Indian.
b. Aja is not a nurse.
c. Aja is not, in any way, "in love" with Meridith.

And it was at that moment that I realized I should have corrected the situation. Explained what had happened and let her know that there was not a female nurse on the 11th floor who loved her and wanted to take her for some chickan tikka and a sizzling platter of Biryani.

But I didn't.

Because Meridith's pain - is my endless delight.

But then she got, like, 112 more texts and the gig was up.

But those 40 minutes were priceless. Even when her dear mother asked us to go the cafeteria and get her something to eat Meridith told her no, for fear that her admirer might saddle up next to her and put the moves on her. That Aja. She is a naughty little ishqbazi.

How Serious Was Our Promise?

What a week it has been for the White family.

To fill you on who the White family is, I shall explain; so that you will understand there actually is a White family and I am not just a racist.

The White family is my uncle Donald, my aunt Melba (go ahead and laugh at that name...we all do. It's a tad southern) and my cousins Meridith and Brandon (aka Bubba).

Meridith and Bubba should sound familiar to you, I spend almost every free moment with them.

When my UnkaDonald (and yes, I meant to type it like that because that is how Remi says it....all in one short breath) was 17 he was diagnosed with cancer. For a year of his life he spent fighting off cancer and won! But not without many radiation treatments in the process. Here we are some 30 years later and finding out that the radiation used in the late 70's, early 80's on some people caused a heart condition that literally makes their heart a "heart of stone."

Without trying to sound like I have a medical degree, because let's be honest, I don't and I'm pretty sure y'all could see right through the facade - my uncle Donald is, as of now, losing this battle.

On October 1st he went in to have a routine procedure done at a hospital in Houston and he hasn't been home since.

Neither has Melba.

For almost four months she has lived in a hospital room, made a bed out of recliner, showered in a small, sterile space with a shower head and eaten hospital food. She has made friends with nurses, exchanged Christmas gifts with hospital staff and loved and cared on the man she met when she was only 15. As she told me last night, "He's it for me." And he is.

It makes you really think about the fact that we promise "to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part."

Do we mean it? A month ago I asked The AG to see a Doctor about his cough; not because it worries me but because it drives me up a wall. When he pulled his shoulder out of alignment a few years ago I laughed until tears fell down my face. And when he took a really hard fall in a thunderstorm not too long ago - and could have broken a lot more than his pride - my only response was that I "could not believe I didn't have my camera with me."

Not that he is surprised by my lack of sympathy. He knew I had none when he married me. Who are we kidding? He married me for my hotness.

But would my commitment to him, the one I made before God and 400 friends and a really zealous photographer, would it kick in if that moment ever came?

Would I be willing to trade my bed for a plastic recliner?

Would I be willing to leave my cozy little cottage for a room that smelt like ammonia, needles and sadness?

Would I lovingly kiss the mouth of a man who hadn't been able to bathe, shave or laugh day after day, night after night?

Would I wake up every morning, get dressed, and begin talking to someone who couldn't speak back to me?

When I think about The Attorney General I don't hesitate for a moment to say unequivocally "yes", "yes, yes, yes, yes". But then I remember how selfish I am and how transparent I am. And how there would be days I would wish to be anywhere other than that room - and he would see right through me and know what I was feeling. But I suppose that's marriage 101, isn't it? Quickly we learn to see past our partners eyes and into their heart. And I would hope that he would see there was no one else on the earth I would do that for but him.

My intention was not to write this post. In fact, I need to go up and change the title of it before I finish because I had fully intended to tell you something funny that happened at the hospital yesterday with Meridith. Because as she can tell you, I delight in making her the butt of a lot of my blog fodder.

But as I started to write, this poured out of me instead...

I hope today - as you are flying around the house in that 15 minute window before your husband gets home, hurriedly picking up toys and laundry so that it will look like you spent all day doing it - I hope you take a minute and stop. Pour your honey a big glass of iced tea and meet him at the front door. Wrap your arms around him. Give him a big, fat healthy kiss. Tell him you missed him. Tell him you love him. Forgive him. For whatever. And hold him tightly.

Because no matter what he's done, ladies. He's yours. For better for worse, for richer for poorer. In sickness and in health.

And may we all, have the heart of my aunt - who admirably got up this morning, showered, read her Bible, kissed her husband (who may or may not have even felt her lips) and reminded herself, "He's it for me."

With love,

Melissa

The Bachelor: Tip #1: If He Doesn't Invite You On A One on One Date It Might Be Because He Thinks You'll Kill Him.

Guess what time it is?????

That's right. Pull you up a chair, pour you a big ol' glass of something sweetened with Splenda because you're fasting sugar, and get ready to get catty.

Our episode last night started off with Jake going on a one-on-one date with Vienna. Here's the deal about Vienna; she's 23 going on 14. She has long blond extensions and a past. That's right, a deep dark past. And understandably she did not bring it up with our little Bachelor friend, because her past involves a little yappy dog that she carries around with her everywhere and dresses it up in sundresses and takes it out to lunch with her. She is quoted as saying, "I will miss her, but hopefully I'll bring her a daddy back home."

And she didn't mention this why? C'mon, Vienna, If this doesn't win him over nothing will.

Our next outing was Jake and six of the girls. Or you could call it: Jake, five women, and one woman that is 5 minutes away from a CourtTV exclusive. (It's long, but catchy.)

Their first stop was to a comedy club. Okay, ,maybe it's just me, but if someone told me I had to get on stage in front of a room full of strangers and tell jokes, I'd say, "Where do I stand? And can you turn the microphone UP please???"

I'd be all about it.

But then again I think I'm hilarious.

But to have someone ccrrryyyy because they have to tell jokes? Does anyone else see the irony in this? Send her home, Jakey. Send her home.

This was a difficult night for Jake, by all accounts the man was not having a good time. And therefore nary a woman donned a bikini and jumped in the hot tub. I think they knew he was in no mood. And who can blame him? Michelle, our resident nutso, cried (again), threatened to go home (again), and asked Jake if she could kiss him (again.) Finally, and without any regard for his own well-being or his trachea (because she looks like she could cut a man), he let her go. Asked her to leave actually. And for that moment, all was right with the world.

Sandra Bullock wins a Golden Globe. Jake sends home Nutzone. I'm sleeping good tonight.

Next up Jake went on a date with a Tennessee momma. No, I'm not trying to be funny. She really is from Tennessee and she really is a momma. In a nutshell: ABC brought her kid, she gave all credit to Jake, "he would make a great father," kid leaves, Jakes gives her a rose, the end.

It was uneventful and I am pretty much losing all feeling for the "bringing their kid out" dates. You wanna see what real life would be like? Pack Remi up and send her out with two knuckleheads for a day at Sea World. Whoever is left standing gets a rose. I assure you, Remi will be the only one walking away with a thorn cut.

Finally at the end of the evening Jake let two women go: one was a brunette and the other was a brunette. On my record that is: 2 brunettes left, the rest are blonde's. Hmmmm. Wonder what Jakey prefers? I suppose I should call them by their names, but I don't remember them. One is a brunette who has kids and never got any face time on camera. And the other is a brunette who also never got any face time. But for completely different reasons.

So tell me, my lovelies, what did you all think? Anybody think Jake's wife is in that group? Anyone else feel like somewhere there is a high school yearbook staff wondering where Vienna wandered off to?

Until next time America.

Out of The Fridge And Into the Fire.

I was going to post something today about my husband. But I've gotten sidetracked. (He should thank his lucky stars.)

The AG and I went out of town this weekend so I didn't get a chance to read my comments you all left on Friday. So Sunday morning I pulled them up to read all of them. (Let it be known that I do read them. Every one. Every day.) And I came across hers.

Now I'm not big on condemnation.

For there is therefore now no condemnation to them who are in Christ Jesus...Romans 1:8

But I'm all for a good challenge. And boy, did she give me one. I don't know that she even meant to, really. She is reader here on my blog and has commented before, as I have her. So I imagine she simply sat down and wrote a comment from her heart with little thought to how it might effect someone. And I am so glad she did. In regards to fasting, here is what she wrote...

I finished a 21 day fast in November. I ate only fruits, veggies and nuts, and drank only water. I too am an addict. Coke/Dr. Pepper and I have to have something sweet after EVERY meal..even breakfast! By day 4 I compromised and told God I neeeeddded bread. That I HAD to have bread or I was going to die...that BREAD would be the difference in my success or failure of this fast.

And I did. I ate bread on Wednesday. And that bread turned into guilt, which turned into conviction. And that bread (or chocolate cake) became one way for God to show me soooo many things about my self, and my spirit.

It showed me that I was a person very willing to compromise my faith in God for my own selfish desires. OUCH.

It showed me how I make life really all about ME! OUCH.

It showed me that I'm in constant negotiation with God, over almost everything in my life. And that is the reason that I feel like I'm always failing. OUCH.

From then on I decided that God was more important than a piece of bread. And that if he believed in me, then I could hold on to the truth that Man does not live by bread alone. And that I could die physically but spiritual death would be more devastating.

So I grabbed hold of the Bible (and even slept with it some nights) and drank LOTS of water. And walked around the house wailing, "I'm soooooo hungry" "I'm sooooo hungry" to which my 12 year old daughter would rush and grab a banana and shove it down my throat just to shut me up.

I listened to LOTS of worship music. I prayed constantly.

But I also never set foot near the kitchen without purpose, and I planned everything I put in my mouth. I thought about it before I got out of bed, because if I didn't I was sure to fail.
I didn't realize how mindlessly I ate until I fasted. I didn't realize how much I needed Jesus in every part of my life, even in my eating and exercising.

During my fast, after the initial 5 days, I never felt physically better. I slept better, had more energy.

And God taught me so much, and truly showed me things about myself I never realized. I'm ALMOST looking forward to the next one...almost.

And so, may I be so bold, as to thank her. And also The Holy Spirit. Who comes alongside us to guide us and help us when goodness knows we cannot help ourselves.

But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all that I said to you. John 14:26

It was the Holy Spirit (and her words) who did, in fact, bring to my remembrance the fact that I am endeavoring to do something right now that CANNOT, under any circumstances, be done on my own. And I am not talking about the fast. I am working on something that I need the Lords help on. And how much clearer would I hear Him speak, how much closer would I feel Him near, how much more guidance would I feel Him giving to me, if I were to take "me" out of the equation completely. Deny myself? In order to find Him? I've heard of people doing such things but I always assumed that it was just in the movies. Or for people who wore shiny red capes.

But I need the Lord right now. All His wisdom and provision. All His council and commands. I need them worse than I need chocolate or Dr. Pepper or even salt. And I need salt badly, I am not even lying.

But if I must travel into the unknown in order to come back changed, then travel I will.

Now Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, left the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the wild. For forty wilderness days and nights he was tested by the Devil. He ate nothing during those days, and when the time was up he was hungry. (Luke 4:1,2)

And if I have to deny myself and wage war on the enemy. Then where do I sign?

"Since you're God's Son, command this stone to turn into a loaf of bread." Jesus answered by quoting Deuteronomy: "It takes more than bread to really live." (Luke 4:3,4)

Oh,sheesh. Did He really just say that? Cause I was pretty sure the bread at Outback was one sure way to live - really live.

That completed the testing. The Devil retreated temporarily, lying in wait for another opportunity. Jesus returned to Galilee powerful in the Spirit. News that he was back spread through the countryside. He taught in their meeting places to every one's acclaim and pleasure. (Luke 4:13-15)

And if forgoing what I want for what I need means that I end up refreshed, recharged, refocused and renewed. Then count me in.

So, my lovelies, as sure as I am standing here typing these words I want you to know - that from now until my church's fast is done I will be abstaining from my three besties: Sweets, Soda and Salt. And for those of you who look at me and say, "Seriously? Sweets, Soda and Salt? I once fasted food altogether. She ain't got nothin' on me." To that I say..."Hey precious, you gotta start somewhere. So pray for me, would you? This won't be easy for me. Oh, and one more thing. I am taking your words kindly now - but find me on day 15. I might not be so Christian."

And now I'm closing my computer to have a moment with the Lord. Where I recommit my desire to find Him ever-closer in the wilderness, ever-nearer in the future and ever-present when I need His help.

Amen.

What I Did May Be Deemed "Sacriligious."

I broke my fast.

I didn't mean to. But I did.

And I broke it big. And I broke it good.

But now I'm back on it.

So there is something to be said for going off of
1)Sugar
2)Salt and
3) Sodas.
And that something is......uh, HARD!

Years ago sodas would not have even been an issue for me. I like to say I was "drinking water before drinking water was cool." But The AG likes to say that drinking water has been cool since the time of cavemen so I'm probably overestimating myself. But suddenly, within the last two years sodas have become a real nightmare for me. Dr. Pepper, mainly. It is my drug of choice. And I choose to take this drug any time I eat Mexican food, and, well, I think you're starting to see the problem.

Salt is another frenemy. I love it. It hates me. I over salt everything. I salt things before I even taste them. And then, yes, I will admit it, are you ready....hang on for this one.....you will gasp.....I individually salt my chips before I dip them in the salsa. There! I said it! Happy? I know it's horrible, but I've been a salt addict my whole life. Someone once told me that if you would begin to leave salt off of your food you would begin to really taste things again, that salt numbs the taste; that suddenly your world would come alive with flavor and you would begin to taste things, really really taste them. This person also told me "exercise is something you should do for yourself, because you deserve it." I turned around, walked away and haven't seen her in years.

And then, there are sweets. Sugar. White demon sugar. My arch enemy in the battle of the bulge. No, it's not chips or dips, its not sweet candy or gummy worms. My arch enemy comes in the form of things that are chocolate, creamy and hot. (i.e. brownies, cookies, cake, anything on a menu that uses the word "molten lava" - you get the point.)

And so today, I went to lunch with some women in my family and I knew, I just knew, that fasting was going to be hard. So I asked the Lord if it was okay if I took a break and I could have sworn He said "Yes, enjoy!" But last night He told me that what He actually said was "Geez, hasn't it only been four days?" (Frankly I wouldn't mind if He would over-pronunciate. I'm just sayin'.)

And so I went to the Tea Room with the ladies in my family. And sure enough, right between my Granny reminding me not to go grocery shopping at night while leaving my kids with The AG because "they need a mother AND a father," and my mom starting a conversation with, "I made soup for ____ the other day, took it to her and remembered 'I can't stand her!'" the waitress came up and asked if we wanted a piece of the old fashioned chocolate cake. That's what she called it - the old fashioned chocolate cake. And right then and there I made peace with the Lord, and said "One, please."

And so today I'm starting over. Please help me. Tell me some tips, some strategies, some exercises for walking in will power and discipline. And don't say "Tip #1 Melissa, stay out of the Tea Room." God's already told me that one and made me promise to obey. I told Him to let me pray about it and I'd get back with Him. It's a wonder He still talks to me at all.

Couple Things.

Some of you wondered if I would be doing re-caps of American Idol.

DUH! Of course I will. But I like to bring on my heavy handed opinions once the field has been narrowed down a bit. You can't honestly expect me to give opinions on all the nuts they shuffle in and out these first two weeks can you? I can't begin to type all I'm thinking......my hands would fall off!

So until then I appreciate you letting me prattle on about The Bachelor. Sure it is cheeze at its finest; but I find it to be similar to Velveeta. Is it good for you? No. It is delightful in small doses? Absolutely. However, unlike Velveeta, hopefully it will not line your innards like an inner tube so that some day when you die they cut you open and find all you ate every New Years Eve was cheese dip made from Velveeta.

That really will happen some day. My friend Troy told me so.

~~~~~~~~~

So....it's Wednesday. Anyone feeling it? Let's see what's going on around here.....

Ah yes, I have done something to my knee during my personal training work outs. Its all stiff and swollen feeling. And sometimes when I'm carrying Rocco it will just sort of "give out" and I'll just about fall, which then translates to an automatic laughing spasm for whoever is with me (I tend to surround myself with people who have a mercy deficiency). And although it has gotten me out of doing lunges my trainer really isn't budging on much else. (Note to self: Find a new trainer.)

~~~~~~~~~

Oh, our church is going on a 21 day fast. Whaaaaaaaa? They recommended the Daniel fast, which is fasting everything but fruits, vegetables and nuts. Whaaaaaaa? I suggest the Melissa fast, which is fasting church until the 21 days are up. Oh, I'm teasing. I am doing a fast, it may be a little different from Daniel but I'm sure he would still be pleased. Of course I probably just lost any heavenly jewel I was ever going to get by posting my efforts on an internet blog for the world to see. But let's be honest, when it comes to fasting it isn't like my crown is going to be exactly weighted down.

~~~~~~~~~

Remi and Rocco are doing good. One of them hit the other one over the head with a plastic golf club last night. I won't say which one did it, but suffice it to say we called it "pulling an Elin."

~~~~~~~~~

I don't know if you all are keeping up with the Leno vs. Conan debacle. Granted, there was a 7pt earthquake in Haiti so who is hosting The Tonight Show is the least of the worlds worries, but nonetheless The AG and I have been keeping up with it seeing as how we are long time Conan fans. And may I just go on record as saying that Micheal Scott probably has no idea what is going on down there at the peacock or he would be all over it. For shame, for shame.

Your thoughts?

~~~~~~~~~

Well, that's as deep as I'm getting today. Don't wade in too far - you'll be sorely disappointed.

Love,
Melissa

Jefferey Osborn Wants Nothing To Do With What Happened Here Tonight.

So here I am posting my Bachelor:On The Wings of Love recap on Monday night instead of Tuesday for fear that I would forget something. And if you watched tonight's episode then you know Steven Tyler said it best when he said, "I don't wanna miss a thing."

Not since my mom and I hit the town to find me a dress for my 8th grade prom have I seen so much drama ensue.

Not since my best friends found me trying to smoke a cigarette at the VFW carnival in the 7th grade have I witnessed so much drama. (In a nutshell: I don't smoke, too big of a chicken, they told my mom, I was beaten severely.)

Not since...okay, you get the point.

Since it would be really hard to go over absolutely everything allow me to pinpoint the details for you. Let's begin.

#1. Jake takes several women on a group date to a photo shoot for InStyle magazine. Finally, Rozalyn will get the fame she has been so desperately seeking. How does she do this you ask? By lifting her skirt, making out with our Bachelor and having an "inappropriate" relationship with one of the shows staff members. She is nothing if not driven.

#2. Jake goes on a group date with several women. One of them pulls out a "letter" she has written to him (apparently letter writing is something she does, it makes her feel naked. Her words. Not mine.) In her letter she tells him that she will not kiss him until he chooses her in the finale. Moments later she leans in with quivering lips and tells him to "make out with her forehead."

Many of you are wondering why, at that exact moment, I did not change the channel to something remotely deep. Because. Because. Because. Because. Because.

Apparently she has values. Big values. We see her big values in almost every tank top she wears. So kudos to her!

#3. Ali and Jake go on a one-on-one date. The editors decide to play On The Wings of Love by Jefferey Osborn (circa 1982) as they fly through the clouds. Meridith and I look at each other and then back to the television. What we are witnessing is beyond cheezy and yet, we cannot look away.

Later Jake takes Ali to a concert in the park, for just the two of them. The band is Chicago. It was like watching The Bachelor: Winging Through The 80's. Up next week? Jefferson Starship and Sheena Easton.

#4. Michelle, the nut, decides to leave. And then to stay. And then to leave if she's not spoken to. And then to stay. And then to leave if she's not given a rose. And then to...oh wait, she's supposed to leave if she's not given a rose. (Please Jake, don't give her a rose. Please. Jake, don't. Don't give her a rose. Ohhhh noooo...he gave her a rose. Boo! for Jake. But yeah! for me and Meridith who will get to watch more drama next week.)

#5. Rozalyn is pulled aside by Chris Harrison (the smoothest host in all the county, let me tell ya) and asked to leave for her inappropriate relationship with staffer. She fains disinterest and repulsion. She admits to nothing. And seems unfazed by it all. She is beautiful and pitiful all rolled in to one. It was like watching that cheerleader that was always nasty to you in High School finally get what was coming to her - but feeling so incredibly sorry for her that it took all the fun away. Some people never truly get it. And that is the saddest part.

#6. Jake tells the girls that he is glad that they are all still there because he feels his soul mate is in that room. Several girls smile. A couple of them cry. And Michelle picks up an ice pick and begins to sharpen it.

Stay tuned........its gonna only get better.

The South Will Rise Again. Yee-haw.

Sometimes its weird being a Southerner.

Don't misunderstand me, oftentimes its wonderful. Really wonderful. We can wear shorts year round. We can get away with wearing flip-flops to church. We can work on our washer and dryer in our front yard. Things like that.

But then sometimes, its just weird.

Like last night, for instance. Last night was Longhorn football.

Let me now state for the record that I am doing good to be an NFL girl, but college football? Really? I just don't get it. They don't wear those big, honkin' diamond earrings like the NFL'ers do. They don't drive Hummers. Or shoot people outside of night clubs. So what is all the fuss about? Granted, I've never been to a college football game. Ever. But I cannot imagine enjoying anything where a drum line is involved.

But that's just me.

But last night? I wish you could have seen the group of people my mom and dad had over to their home. It looked like the county jail had a free period between 7pm and 11pm and they all headed to mom's house. (I can say this freely because they were all family. If they were like, just "acquaintances" I would never speak such. But since they're family...)

We had people in every chair in the house, dogs roaming around, we had cream cheese in over half of the dishes that were made, Dr. Pepper cans were spilling over out of trash bags and one person even brought their Longhorn Snuggie.

Did you know they made Longhorn Snuggies? I did not. (This is not my aunt by the way, but she looks like she'd be a hoot-and-a-half, don't she?)

It was quite the redneck free-for-all. And I say this knowing that I enjoyed every minute of it. Even down to the perfect brownie pan.

Because what kind of Southern shin-dig is it if you don't have at least two As Seen On TV products? It's not one, I'll tell ya that.

Oh sure, the Longhorns lost. And I had I been watching the game I would have been so upset. But instead I just listened in on the conversations going on around me and found that to be far more stimulating than anything the 'Horns could pull off. Just listen:

"Did you know ____ got arrested again for gettin' in a scuffle with the law."

"Old Missus _____ left her husband. Said he beat her. He didn't beat her. He needed to beat her. But he didn't."

"How'd you burn your arm?"
"With a flat iron."
"With a huh?"

"...I tell you what, I ain't never seen one alive. Only dead. They are so pretty dead it's a shame God ever game 'em breath to begin with."
"That's the same thing I said about my first wife."

"You know that ol' doctor gave me something for that but I didn't ne'er take it. I just decided to stare at it till it went away."
"How's that workin' for ya?"
"Its gone."

And it was then that I promised the Lord, "If you let me out of this house without seeing what in the world they are talking about, I promise to watch college football and appreciate it for all its Southern goodness." I have a debt to repay.

Name Calling.

Today, as I was getting Remi ready for dance I wept.

Okay, I didn't really weep - that just sounded dramatic so I said it. Really I laughed. Wait, I didn't laugh either, that was a lie.

Actually I got frustrated. Yep, that's it. That's the truth: I got frustrated. Frustrated because she wouldn't stand still, she wouldn't stand up, she wouldn't sit down and she wouldn't turn around. I got frustrated when she wiggled and when she giggled. And I got frustrated when she asked for help and I got frustrated when she didn't.

And amidst it all - amidst the socks she took on and off and on and off again and the shoes she didn't want to wear because "Look! They have play dough on them" and the leotard she just haaaaaad to wear even though it was 30 degrees outside and the bow I put in her hair that was then smashed by the hat she wanted to wear - amidst it all I called her something I had never called her before. Normally I say...
"Come here Rem,"
"Remihope" (like it's one word),
"Remster,"
"boo,"
"sister"
or "love."

Those are my names for her. Bless her heart she sometimes even answers to Bubba. (Don't know, don't ask.)

But this time I called her "little woman." I didn't mean to actually, it just slipped out. But as the words came out of my mouth I realized how much sense they made. How she is growing and changing. How she is laughing at things she used to not understand. How she brushes her own teeth and knows what she likes and does not like done with her hair.

"Little" symbolizes the fact that if you turn your back for one second she will hit her brother over the head with her plastic golf clubs.

"Woman" symbolizes the fact that she will grab my hand and say "let's paint our nails, mama."

"Little" symbolizes her need for me.

"Woman" symbolizes the fact that it won't always be that way.

Yesterday I had a very rough day. A really rough one. I chalk it up to new places, new faces, still getting adjusted and all; God chalks it up to excuses. And so last night, as I crawled into bed I wondered what God thought of me yesterday. When He was trying to get me to hold still, stop moving, stop complaining, stop whining, stop screaming...what did He call me?

Did He call me "Melissa?"
Or "child?"

Did He call me "Woman?"
Or "brat?"

Did He refer to me as "Little?"
Or "immature?"

Did He call me "selfish?"

Did He call me "love?"

As I looked into Remi's eyes, for the 1/8th of a second that she was being still, I called her "Little Woman" - because what she is now is not what she will always be.

And I hope that's how God sees me.
Juvenile - but with great potential.
Immature - but ever changing.
Stubborn - but striving.

Maybe I'm over thinking it. Maybe He isn't thinking any of those things. Maybe He simply wants me to stand still so He can tie my shoes, in hopes that one day I'll learn to tie them myself...and quit tripping over my own tongue laces.

I guess there's a lesson in that as well.

The Bachelor: On The Wings of...what the what??

Last night was episode one in what I fear will be 13 looooooooooooong episodes with Jake the bachelor.

Jake was not my first choice as bachelor.

Jake was probably not my third choice as bachelor.

But apparently America disagreed with me. Alas, I am not America.

Now don't get me wrong, Jake seems like a nice guy. I mean for pete's sake, the man said "okey dokey" to Chris Harrison not 15 minutes into the show. He is also building a gazebo in his back yard. Has an affinity for his parents and their values and their marriage and old pictures they took back in the 80's. And he drives a Suburban.

Help me Lord, the man is ready for a family.

But sometimes "sweet" is too much of a good thing.

Note to self: Call dentist. Make an appt. Cavities in near future.

Enter Tenley: one of our Bachelorettes whose biggest claim to fame is that she has played Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and for nine months she played Ariel in Japan. (Question: If you play Ariel in Japan, are you still considered Ariel? It would just seem like some things might change in context....I'm just sayin'.)

Jake ended up giving Tenley the "first impression" rose, which was shocking to me considering she didn't show up with a gift from her son (is this ever a good idea?), she didn't get out of the car and pretend to fly, she didn't ask to feel his abs (seriously? Am I the only woman who really doesn't care that much about abs?), she didn't bring him dirt and she didn't wear motorcycle gloves.

If those things don't get your attention then maybe playing Ariel in Japan will.

But Tenley didn't tell him this. Noooo, she's waiting to bring out the big guns for a one on one date I'm sure.

And speaking of big guns....

Anyone not trusting Rozalyn? Gia? Or Elizabeth? If you don't know who they are, they were the ones with, uh, the big guns.

Am I happy that Jake is the Bachelor? Nah.
Am I still gonna watch? Uh...yeah. I'm not dead.

And last night, just as sure as you can count on the changing of the seasons, The Bachelor "glimpse ahead" gave us another "This will be the most dramatic season ever.....on.....The Bachelor." Dum-dum-dum. And just as sure as you can count on the changing of the seasons, Meridith and I looked at each other and actually said, "What? More drama? Seriously? Okay. I'm in. As if there were ever any doubt ABC, you have once again hooked me." And we meant it. Because apparently something scandalous is going to happen and I don't want to miss a thing. I suggest you don't either. Who else am I going to have to talk to about this if you all don't watch.

Besides Meridith.

And my dentist.

Resolutionary.

Wow.

Wow.

That's all I can say.

Well that, and, "you all really want me to read some books," which I am most thrilled about I have to say. So many of you emailed me and said that you, too, were writing down the suggestions and were headed straight to Amazon.com or Barnes and Noble - whichever was closest. So glad I could be of help. Who says that Stretch Marks isn't changing the world? It is. This is living proof. Mommas everywhere will now have something to read when they close themselves in the bathroom for one hour every afternoon, yell "Mommy's tummy hurts - she needs to poo. Don't climb in the oven!" When she is actually sitting on the side of the tub reading.

You're welcome.

And might I add, you all haven't turned out this much for me since I asked you some tips on how to clean my house in 27 minutes or less.

And this tells me two things: Y'all think I need help cleaning and that I need to get smarter. (Note: It's dangerous leaving a sentence that is grammatically improper on a blog because no one knows if you meant to do it in jest or if you really are that needin' to get smarter.)

So in the spirit of gaining knowledge and getting my house in order...

(Insert fancy segue here)

How about those New Years Resolutions?

So those things just keep coming back around, don't they? I really thought the whole "resolutions" things had picked up steam in the late 80's but would surely - surely - fizzle out by 2002. But nope. They're still here. And they're everywhere I look.

I haven't been able to walk 3 feet without seeing Denise Austin right in front of me. Which isn't to say that her workout videos are being sold everywhere, but rather that she is, in fact, stalking me.







And wouldn't you? Doesn't every hunter want that big buck to hang up in their office so that everyone who walks in will say, "Wow, hunter, you got the big one." Well, that's why Denise is eyeing me. I'm the buck. The trophy. I'm the 8 foot turkey that legend only talks about. And she wants me. Hanging over her mat. In some hardwood, glassy-walled studio somewhere that spits out tunes like "Shake Your Love" and C & C Music Factory.

It's too much for me to even think about. So I won't. Moving on.

In the spirit of resolutions AND strengthening your marriage the Attorney General and I decided that this year we would write each others resolutions and then read them to each other. So in other words, he wrote five resolutions for me. And I wrote eight for him. It was a great idea.

He wrote things that he felt would make me like an overall healthier, happier, more fulfilled person. I wrote eight things that drive me nuts and I wish he would stop.

He has suggested I work on finishing my Masters up this next semester.
I have suggested he work on not breathing so heavy or talking to me during The Bachelor. (Shout out! Tonight! 7pm! Holla!)


I thought it was a great idea. In fact, I came up with it, myself. He doesn't want to do it next year (don't ask me why).