Uuuughh..I've been Tagged.

Dear Lulaville,

Never, never, never do this to me again. For I am a "giver-in" to peer pressure but will not be so susceptible next time. For you see, if you lived down the road from me I would just "wrap" (also referred to as "T.P.", "Roll", or "Paper") your house. But since that is impossible I will just leave you harassing messages on your blog that scream "I hate talking about myself" while all the while subliminally saying "Thank you Lula, because talking about myself is my absolute favorite thing and I - along with all of my peers - cannot get enough of it."

So like I said, Lula, never again.

Cough, cough.

So here goes...because I've been tagged. NOT because I like talking about myself.

What was I doing ten years ago?
I was married to the AG and living in Nashville in our first little house on Maple Circle. I was attending Belmont University and attending New Song Christian Fellowship. We had no children so we spent several hundred dollars a weekend on movies and Taco Bell, if memory serves me. I spent every waking minute studying my music and practicing because I had big plans to move to New York after I graduated and be a jazz singer. Can you imagine??

Five snacks I enjoy: I will not state the obvious. So I will go with...
1. Blue Bell vanilla ice cream drowned in Hershey's Syrup
2. Chocolate chip cookies and the dough from which they come
3. Double Stuff Oreo's
4. Sweet tea
5. Chocolate Milk.

Five things on my to-do list:
1. Mow the yard for the AG since he has recently decided he is "allergic" to grass.
2. Watch Juno and get it back in the mail.
3. Buy some beutiful steaks for the AG to grill on Memorial Day. That's what that day is all about, right?
4. Decide what to do with the 20 people I have invited over for Remi's birthday party.
5.Find someplace in Columbia that rents moon-walks.

Five things I would do if I were a billionaire:
1. Rent a moon-walk from someplace in Columbia.
2. Hire someone to entertain the 20 people I have invited over for Remi's birthday party.
3. Make sure my church was well taken care of.
4. Make sure Remi and my little sister, Mallory, were well taken care of.
5. Go ahead and put my mom in a home.

Just kidding...

5. Give give give to St. Jude's Children's Hospital. I love that place.

Five jobs I've had:
1. Lee Trans Services....but I was fired!
2. Dillard's
3. Spring House Music
4. Church secretary
5. Writer at Saturday Night Live.

Kidding... Unfortunately...

5. Voice teacher (which I hated so much that every day I woke up with a sick stomach just to avoid having to go because the small children made me so nervous.)

Five of my bad habits:
1. Throwing my clothes on the closet floor.
2. Forgetting laundry in the washing machine - while they're wet.
3. Starting dinner too late and my family gets agitated.
4. Snoring.
5. Not returning phone calls.

Five places I've lived:
1. Lufkin, Texas
2. Waxahachie, Texas
3. Arlington, Texas
4. Nashville, Tennessee
5. Columbia, Tennessee

Five people I would tag if I knew they wouldn't hunt me down and kill me like I am going to do to Lulaville:
1. Milli
2. Vanilli
3. Francis RuthAnn Hindemeyer Winestock
4. Tony Toni Tone'x
5. Skeeter Davis

Six random things:
1. I don't know any of those people in the answer before.
2. Tina Fey won't return any of my calls. And how does she expect for us to hang out and be best friends if she won't call me back?
3. Have you heard the Viva La Vida commercial with Coldplay? I must stop everything I am doing and listen to it. Love him. Love them. Love that song. I have put in a request to find it under my pillow the day it comes out.
4. Big Kenny, of Big & Rich, absolutely freaks me out. When I see him I cannot avert my eyes but yet I am scared to death.
5. I MUST sleep to the sound of a fan. This is not up for discussion.
6. I could play Phase 10 with people I laugh with for hhhooouuurrrrsssss.

and one more for good measure...

7. My husband still covers my eyes when we pass a dead animal on the road.

That' all my friends. Have a good night.

Melissa X

Do you wanna revolution? Whoop - whoop.

I said, do you wanna revolution? Whoop - whoop.

How'd you like that? That's a really really white girl, blogging like a soul sista'.

Yes, it's awkward at first, but I think it's works.

Okay, I have a reason for all of this.

There is a reason my post is titled Melissa X. And it's this...I have started a movement. A revolution, if you will. I know, I know...you probably think I'm layin' it on a little thick. But I never do that. Never, ever, ever. I never over exaggerate. Not ever. I've never over exaggerated yet and I'm not about to start now. So you can believe me. If I say it - it's truth. Seriously.

About two weeks ago I began my movement and today I am starting to see the fruit of my labor. Because as we speak grocery stores across our country are being asked to stock their shelves with Julio's Chips. Several of you have emailed me and told me that you tried to contact Mr. Julio's via his website. And I'm sorry that you've had trouble. But here's the deal...

I'm pretty sure Mr. Julio just works in his kitchen with his wife and like, four kids, frying up chips night and day. At least that's how I see it in my mind. (But then I also see him as a small, heavy set man in his mid-60's with a penchant for fedoras and a constant smell of boiled chicken that follows him around. You?)

So guess what?? The ATTORNEY GENERAL is going to call him. I am not lying. Leave it to the ATTORNEY GENERAL to make things happen. Why do you think I call him that? It's not because he's the Attorney General of Tennessee (though some of you have actually emailed me to ask me that. And don't think he didn't loooooove that.) It's because,
A. He's an attorney.
B. He's bossy. And mean. And all about rules and regulations. And making me do things I don't want to do because I'm lazy and forgetful and undisciplined.

Oh, and it's because he makes things happen. I don't lie. Give the man a job. It will be done by noon. As long as it's not outside. Or with his hands. Or with a hammer. Or with any kind of electric equipment. Or tractor/trailer combination.

So, to those of you who have contacted your local grocer and had Julio's sent it - BRAVO!! In fact, here is an email I received from one reader who heard Julio's were going to be delivered to his grocery store today...

"Let me just say that Julio's chips with guacamole and "non-alcoholic" sangria are nothing short of spectacular. 'They're real.....and they're spectacular!'

I got to Brookshire's Fresh Market, 5 o'clock rush. I'm dodging down the chip aisle looking for Julio. Can't see Julio. Lays, no. Doritos, no. Zapps, no. There was an empty space on the bottom rack with one back of yellow chips....What's that one? Wait a minute......Julio? Is that you? Yes, there it was, the last bad. I grabbed it and slowly looked around trying to see if anyone else seemed interested...I tried to nonchalantly place the bag in the buggy, resisting the urge to tear it open. I'm in control, I can wait.

Zipped through the market, don't know why they think it's so fresh? Avocados, Senorial Sangria (oh yeah), tostadas, lettuce, tomatoes, etc, etc.

Now I'm home. Can I resist the urge? Do I try them now? or wait until everyone else is ready for supper. Well the bag is pretty small. Do they come any larger? I slowly tear open the yellow bag with the precious name on it. I place the chip to my mouth and crunch expectantly. What are those remarkable flavors? Crunchy, tasty. I can hang with that.

Next comes the avocados. Crush them up, blend in the spices. How will they taste with guacamole? LIKE HEAVEN! THAT'S WHAT! Throw in some sangria and you have the makings of a fine night.

Oh well, I'm sure you've heard countless stories which can compare with mine. I'm just glad I found Julio in time. When was I going to start that diet? I can't remember now...."

This young man (I'm being kind) went to his grocery store - shout out! to Brookshire Brothers at Gaslight Plaza - because someone else had asked Mr. Berger, the store manager, to special order them. Which he did. And they were delivered.

So maybe Mr. Berger is starting the revolution.

Hmmmm....let me think on that.

Nope. Still me.

Anyway, my faithful lovelies, I will keep you informed on what Mr. Julio says, but in the mean time, ask your grocer for them. Oh give me a break, you'll go up and ask for Pizza bagels shaped like Dora the Explorer, but you won't ask for this?

On another note. Yesterday was Remi's birthday and we celebrated in style. Pancakes from Cracker Barrell...one looooooong hour at the bouncy house (it was her birthday, people. I HAD to. Plus the AG forced me at gun point).....yellow cheese dip for lunch.....and one big ol' Timmy the Turtle swimming pool for daddy's little princess. How she does it, I'll never know.

The AG loved the bouncy house so much that he actually looked at me as he was bouncing like an idiot and asked, "So how much would it cost if we - just me and you - wanted to come in and rent this place for a couple hours?"

What?

What is he talking about? Has he never met me? In the fourteen years we've been married I have ruled out tennis, racquetball, church softball teams, gym memberships or walking of any kind. Jumping should be a given.

I hope you all have a lovely weekend. I'll miss you. But I have been "tagged" - I'm still very unsure what that means, but I'm taking some penicillin just to be safe - and I'll be posting that this weekend. Just so you know.

What are ya'll doing this weekend? Leave me a comment and tell me. I'm curious, because the AG has a buddy in town so I'm kind stuck here doing my own thang. So I really want to know what I have to be envious of.

In the mean time, go see Indiana Jones and eat some popcorn (with the buttered layered. As God intended it to be served.)

One Fine Day.

Some moms look like this after birth. Tired, sweaty and exhausted.

Some moms look like this. They wear hoop earrings and heels.

Some are glad this day is over.

Some are glad this day finally came.

On this day, 2 years ago, that was me. I simply hoped she came. And she did. Finally. And when she came in to this world everything changed for me. Everything.

The day Remi was born was, unfortunately, not the most eventful day in my life. I hate to admit that. It was eventful, don't get me wrong, but it wasn't the most eventful. The day Elisha was born was the most eventful day. Because I only had two hours to spend with him. Every second counted. My wish was to make every second last...forever. But I couldn't. Time ticked away. And so began a process of grieving and mourning and crying and breaking.

And then Remi.

See, when she came in to the world time didn't tick away. It just stopped. Suddenly. And on that day, my arms, which had been so heavy with emptiness - were full. And my heart, which had been so devastatingly broken - beat again. And my home, which had been so quiet for so long - was loud again. That was 2 years ago, today.

Happy Birthday Remi Hope Radke.

"But HOPE that is seen is no HOPE at all. Who HOPES for what he already has? But if we HOPE for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently." (Romans 8:24, 25)

P.S. You there! Yes, you. Just wanted to remind you that joy, does indeed, come in the mourning.

Couple Things.

Just a couple things we need to go over.

1. I have officially been offered a place to stay in Kenya, yes, I did say Kenya, if I ever decide to go there for an official SAFARI to see the LIONS.
Okay, let me catch my breath after even thinking about that. Because when I say "dream vacation" - that would be a "dream vacation." And some friends of ours, who we have officially reconnected with after almost 10 years, are living in Kenya as missionaries. And they found us on this blog! Can you believe that? Isn't technology amazing?
You are probably amazed at this moment that I have friends who are missionaries, aren't you? Be honest. And really, I don't mean to make everything about me, but doesn't this speak volumes to the kind of person I am if I have friends who are missionaries. Yay for me!

2. I realize I haven't written a "The Last Time I Talked To My Mother..." post recently (which are quickly becoming world re-noun...dont' believe me? Read this or this.) but that doesn't mean we haven't been talking and that doesn't mean she hasn't been post-worthy. Oh, no. That's not it at all. I assure you. It's just that considering we just had Mother's Day and pretty much all she got was to order off the the lunch menu at Red Lobster I thought I'd give her a break. Again, this speaks volumes about me, does it not?

This is shaping up to be one world-class post, sista'.

Don't be scared of my lingo.

3. Thursday is a special day. It's the day my heart started beating again. That sounds strange to say, but if you know me at all, you know what I'm talking about. You see, several years ago my heart stopped beating. Just stopped. Cold. Just like that. I dare not go in to it all here...that's for another day. But then suddenly it started beating again. And I owe it all to Thursday.
Actually, I owe it all to God. But he let's me use creative licensing with my writing. So when I say something poetic, like, "I owe it all to Thursday," he doesn't really care or call me on it.
Anyway, I can't wait to share it with you all.

4. Today was Remi's last day of pre-school. I shot out a text message to all my Twitter friends (who are not any of you because you won't go sign up. Why? What's that all about?) that said, "I just dropped Remi off for her last day of school. Can we all say together, 'Come quickly Lord Jesus?'" It was really funny in the moment.

5. Some of you have been asking about my Julio's. So here is, Julio's Chips in 12 words or less: Corn chips with salt and spices that actually glisten in the sunlight.
Go to their website and check them out!
Oh, by the way, know what would be cool? If all of you sent emails to that little Mexican man on the front of their website and told him about me. Then he would call me and ask if he could advertise on my site and I would say, "What advertise? Give me free chips and salsa for a lifetime and my space is your space." Then when my chips and salsa came in I would have you all over. And then ya'll would all be like, "isn't Melissa so cool that she would have us over to share her chips" and someone would inevidably say, "not only that - she has friends who serve the Lord in Kenya. Wow, that Melissa, she really must be amazing."

6. Now I need some thoughts on what to do for a child who wakes up every day and asks to "go wimmin'." And yet has a father who told me that if I spend even $20 on a plastic Timmy the Turtle pool he's going to make me sleep in it. (Personally, I have no doubt this is so he can see me in a wet t-shirt. But he begs to differ.)
Tips? Somebody? Please?
What? Is that someone calling me and Remi to a thrice weekly play-date? Uh, let me think about...OK!

7. I really like Remi. I don't know if I've told you that lately. I do. I say that I'm going to kill her. And oh, I've thought about it. But then she does something crazy and wonderful and she's my "sweet disaster" all over again. That's what I call her now. And she answers to it. I really like her because...
She lets me flat-iron her hair.
She seems as interested in The Golden Girls as I am when we watch it.
She put down three pieces of sushi on Sunday afternoon like a pro. Loved it!
She tells me I'm pretty.
We must have the same taste in men, because she's madly in love with the same guy I am.
She calls Tobey by his first AND last name.
Sometimes she cries to go see Poppie. And sometimes I do, too.
I caught her giving big wet kisses to the dogs.
She always waves at our neighbors and says, "Hi everybody."
She folds her hands when she prays.

I like that kid.

8. Our neighbor is trying to sell his truck becuase it gets NINE miles to the gallon. Anyone? Anyone? Don't just settle on his though, without trying out our '92 Honda, first. It has no air and it looks like we're smuggling drugs or dead bodies in the trunk. You'll feel mixed emotions when you drive it though, just warning you. We're kinda like, "No, we're not burning up gasoline during these trying economic times. But we may very well be contributing to the drug trafficing problem, can't say for sure."

9. Oh, and you know what 2 David's make for? A very boring finale.

Lee. Out.

Julio's: In Ten Acts

Act One:

Julio's arrives via FedEx. I pay no attention to the fact that I am wielding scissors around my small child. She's kinda all up in my space, though.

Act Two:

She totally thinks this is for her, so that's me saying, "I don't think so, suckkkkkeeerrrr!"

Act Three:

Oh, my sweet friend put in a card. It said something like, "Dear Melissa, I love Stretch Marks. It has gotten me through some very difficult times. Thank God for you. You are the best. If I didn't have you and Stretch Marks where would I be? You may be the best thing that has ever happened to me. And certainly the best thing to ever happen to the internet! I can't breathe without knowing that ..." yada yada yada. I'm not sure if that's exactly it, but I feel sure that's what she meant.

Act Four:

Clearly someone has gotten distracted.

Act Five:

"Remi, BACK AWAY from the Chips."

Act Six:

This is me singing Praise. I do it a lot. Not normally over chips. But this is a special day.

Act Seven:

"Remi, this is not a word I ever want you to use...but these are MINE."

Act Eight:

"Seriously Remi, I'm not kidding."

Act Nine:

I'm like a proud mama. Seriously though, after the AG took this picture he looked at it and said, "Melissa, there is a good chance you are making too big a deal over these chips. Your holding them like you just gave birth to them."

Act Ten:

Fifteen minutes later I walk back in the room and find this! Did no one pay heed to my words? I said, "Hands off!" But what could I do??? They looked so cute. And as I always say, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

I'm not gonna lie. We had chips for dinner that night.

Thank you Angela. Thank you very, very, much, sweet friend.

Hanging Narnia in my hallway.

Someone told me the other day, "Melissa, you're blog is so funny. But if you really want people to read it and take you seriously you're going about it all wrong."

Hmmm. I'm not sure how to take that.

Mainly because what I write is real. And it's me. When I spend and entire post salivating over Julio's Chips. I am really salivating. When I write about my struggles to exit an inflated, bouncey, torture chamber. I was really stuck. And when I do my "Last Time I Talked to My Mother" posts...people, it don't get no more real than that.

Just like everyone I have a softer side. An intimate side. A silly, girly side. They may not be as accessible as my fun side. My loud side. My quite boisterous and rip-roaring side. But they are there nonetheless. Just ask the Attorney General.

But I would hope - above all else, above anything that you could ever say about me - that my absolute love and devotion to the Lord is a side you see most often. It probably isn't.
I'm human.

Which leads me to today's post. Now, for the record, let me state this. I AM NOT posting this today due to the aforementioned comment. I don't really give in that easily. Just ask the Attorney General. But I felt it pertinent to share that comment considering what I wanted to share with you today was, well, rather personal.

No one laugh.

Here goes.

I love lions. I mean, I really really love lions. I have loved them my whole life, but by the time I became an adult I was wild about them. I love to look at pictures of them, read about them, watch the National Geographic channel on them, you name it. It may sound silly, but it's true. I'm fascinated with them.

It's something about the look in their eyes. The beauty of their build. They're beautiful and passionate, dominant and powerful. They're fierce. And I feel both terrified and safe all at once.

My sweet husband knows my love for them and yet has never really ever bought me anything with a lion on it. I'm not sure if you have noticed but a house full of "lion pieces" does not a Southern Living spread make. I assure you when you walk in my house you would have no idea my love for this animal. Until now...

For Mother's Day the Attorney General gave me this. Because he's good.

I love it. I absolutely love it. I love it more than the wicker furniture he bought me last year or the...oh, wait. It's only my 2nd Mother's Day. But so far the man is on a roll.

He hung it the very day he gave it to me. Which I have to say, is a gift all on it's own. Normally a Bill has to pass through the House and Senate before I can get anything hung around here. But not that day. He followed me all around the house until I had chosen the perfect spot. Know where it ended up?

In the hallway just outside my bedroom door. If, at any moment, I become afraid, all I have to do is sit up in my bed and look into my hallway. And He is who I see.

Below the picture it says this:

Majesty

"They will follow the Lord; He will roar like a lion. When He roars, His children will come trembling from the West."

Hosea 11:10 (NIV)

Oh, my! Don't you love it? I do. Just the very thought. That picture is sometimes the last thing I see at night as I crawl into my bed. It's one of the most precious gifts I've ever received.

So now that you have knowledge of my secret love...guess what movie I saw this weekend? Yep, you guessed it. A little independent film that not many people know about called, "Prince Caspian."

I cried. Openly. And loudly. I really did. And all the AG can do is just sit there and let me do it. It can't be explained my love for all things Aslan. It's just that I suppose that is how I see God. Beautiful and passionate, dominant and powerful. I guess I feel both terrified and safe, all at once. What they have created on screen is what I have seen in my mind since I was a child. They got it perfectly right.

So you have to know how much I loved it when Aslan and Lucy are together...

"Aslan," said Lucy, "you're bigger."

"That is because you are older, little one," answered he.

"Not because you are?"

"I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger."

That was my favorite line in the entire movie. Because I got it. I understood it. Every year I have spent serving Him, when it's been good and when it's been horrible, I have come to find Him bigger and bigger and bigger. And I have come to find myself less and less and less.

Every year I've grown I've found Him to be more just and faithful, more determined and ferocious. More awesome and forgiving. More precious and patient.

Every year I grow I find Him bigger.

Somethin' Bad's Goin Down At the Fun House.

The Fun House, the Play Place, the Jump Room, the Bouncey Thing. They're all the same. Annoying.

But I go because I love my child. And it's only 2 bucks. And her daddy is still out of town and I'm runnin' out of things to do, people!

But before we go any further let me remind you of my penchant for "bathroom runs" (no pun intended) at the worst of times. If you don't believe me please check out
this drama and this drama.

So I take Remi to the Bounce Around and immediately I am out of my element. I brought nothing to read while I sit lazily by hoping she doesn't hurt herself. And it's far too loud to talk on my cell. What'supwiththat? Do they not take these things into consideration? There should be a phone booth and a coffee table full of InStyle. Seriously people, do I have to think of everything?

At first we are not alone. The first 30 minutes we weave and bob in between Opie and his little sister. But then they had to leave, it was noon and apparently their mom feeds them lunch. But us? Nah. We keep playing.

I look around.
We're alone.
And suddnely, in what can only be described as a moment of insanity I decide...I'm going in.

The following story will now be divided into 3 parts.

Part One: Big Mistake to go in.

It seems so easy really.

You just hold back the little flap and inch your way in.

Anybody can do it. But not everybody should.

Take me for instance. I got in just fine. It was the getting out that was the problem. Thankfully Remi isn't 5 years old. At two it's "Fun! Mamma's coming in! She's going to play! This is the best day ever!" At five? I imagine it's, "Kill-me-now-my-mom-is-coming-in-and-dear-Lord-help-her-she-can't-get-out."

But I'm a good mom.
I'm not resentful that there are no magazines.
I'm not resenting the blatant disrespect for cell phones.
I'm not harboring ill will to your father who is laid up in a hotel room ordering room service. Naaaaaaah.
I'm a good mom.
See? I'm jumping. I'm jumping.
And................she's down.

Part Two: "Remi? Let's try the slide."

Now at this point the little thing you jump in is just not cutting it for me. So let's try something different. Something exciting. Something mommy can really embarrass you in.

We head over to what appears to be an obstacle course of sorts. Okay, this is different, this is cool, this looks fun. Right? Wrong.

Remi has no problem with it. She's good to go. She also weighed in at 27 pounds last we checked. Wanna know what I weighed in last we checked? How rude.

Now as I make the turn to do this obstacle course it becomes quite clear that there is no getting out - so finish it, I must. But who am I kidding? I can inch myself backwards and she'd be none the wiser. Except that now a little red headed boy with a really high pitched voice and an ax to grind has entered the room and is hot on my tail.

"Keep going," he yells at me.
"I'm trying," I yell back.
"Why aren't you going forward?"
"Because I'm claustrophobic and I'm about to hyperventilate. Do you even know what any of those words mean?" I scream.
His response? "Duh."
"Well then, back up!"
"I can't. Everyone knows you have to finish it once you get in here. You're almost done."

And at that moment I realize that in his own special demonic way he is encouraging me. And it feels nice. Because clearly, Remi could care less.

And then............it happens.

Part Three: Keep 'er Moving.

Today I can't blame it on fried foods.
I can't blame it on salty foods.
I can't blame it on eating chili for breakfast.
I can't blame it on the rain.
Because I had eaten nothing. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

But in a split second I felt something come over me and knew that if I didn't evacuate that jump course right that very minute there was a good chance someone was going to die. And considering Chucky was behind me - it was looking like a bad day for him.

"Move back!" I screamed at him.
"Keep moving." He yelled back.
"I can't keep moving..."
"Keep moving."
"Do you want me to tell your mom?"
"I don't care."
"Oh really? Because I totally..."
"Ooohhhh gross...somebody..."
"Hush. Don't say another word."
"What is that?"
"It's your upper lip."

Yes, I actually said that to a six year old. Oh, I don't know if he was six. Maybe he was 27. All I know was he was standing between me and the door that said "Please flush only once" on the front of it. And by George, if I had to take him out, then call it collateral damage.

But in that instance I knew that it was do or die. It was: take that obstacle course or lay there in a pool of my own filth.

If Chucky could do it, I could too.

And do it, I did. I began throwing myself into positions that have never been seen before. I hurled myself into inflatable things that would pop back and hit me square in the face. I bounced. I fell. I cried. I screamed. I begged for God to give me the strength to endure. And with every inch that bathroom door looked closer and closer.

I finally mustered up enough strength to climb up the stairs and shoot myself down a slide.

It took every single cell in my body to hold it all in. I kid you not.
I. Thought. I. Was. Going. To. Die.

I took the slide so fast that I nearly landed directly on top of Remi. But I had to look at her as simply an obstacle in my way. I picked her up and threw her as hard and as far as I could. I dove for that little opening in the doorway and inched every piece of me out of it, all the while praying that God would grant me 15 more seconds on this earth.

I cleared - in one fail swoop - 2 pairs of Crocs and a hair bow. I looked around for Chucky's mom but never saw her. Figures.

I ran in to the little piece of heaven that was built just off the main room. I shut the door behind me, leaving Remi to fend for herself with Chucky. (I wasn't worried. She could take him.) And I thanked God for some privacy and that there was actually toilet tissue.

Epilogue: Don't build a bathroom right off of the main room. It's humiliating.

I spent a few minutes in there, I'm not gonna lie. The situation escalated and it required some time that I hadn't intended on giving. But when all was said and done - I felt like a new woman. I could face the world. I could find my child, put her Crocs on her and still still "fry it up in a pan."

But as I opened up the door into what I assumed to be a room with no one but Remi and Chucky. I find 14 little tiaras running from pillar to post. A birthday party.

And boy, have I just helped them get it started with a bang.

I grabbed Remi up - and slapped her shoes on her as fast as I could. I had to get out of there before one of those little 5 year olds said something nasty about me. I'm scared of today's youth. I'm not gonna lie.

But all I heard was Chucky, screaming, "Ooooohhhhhhh gross....somebody......"

Move on.

I'm giving you fair warning. Today's post? Snooze city.

Yeah, that's right. I'm calling a spade a spade, my friend. You need to move on down, move on down the road. I'm sure that someone else somewhere else has much better things to discuss than I do. I'm a big enough girl to admit that.

So go ahead. Go to Bon Jovi's blog, see if I care. (Actually, if Bon Jovi really has a blog you oughta check it out.)

More fun? Yes.

More important? I think not.

Today's post offers you a few things that you just can't get anywhere else.
Sense. And Sensibility.

First things first. Let me start by saying that my house smells like a campground. I kid you not. I am sitting in my living room and it smells like I just returned from 3 days on a camping extravaganza!

Have you ever been on a camping extravaganza? Weird, wild stuff.

I'm not sure what the smell is nor do I tend to find out until my husband returns home, because it might mean that I have to get up off this couch or do something exhausting like sniff something out. And then I might have to walk all around the house. Or even worse, it could end up with me having to go up the stairs. I mean seriously, could you imagine?

So I will sit in my stench until he comes home and solves the problem. That's why I married him, after all. He's like McGyver except he can't fix anything - but he always hires people who do a great job!

And the second reason for my post today is to tell you about a little something that has come to mean, well heck, it's just come to mean the world to me.

You know I've never been very tech savvy? You did know that, right? We have gotten past the first date here - so you have to have known this about me. So when the AG came home and told me I had to get Twitter, you can imagine what I had to say to that.

First I said, "Huh?"
And then I said, "Well, will you do it because I don't know what you're talking about."
And then he explained it, but still I said, "Please? Will you do it? Because I smell something."
To which he said, "For some reason I am in the mood to go camping."
And I quickly replied, "Twitter it is."

And my lovelies, I haven't looked back.

Here is a video explaining Twitter.

Oh, for Pete's sake it's only 2:56 - just watch it and quit complaining. It's cute. They use cut-outs. Like old school Sunday School!




Okay, so you have to sign up for it. Please? Do it for me. I LOVE IT. Twitter appeals to my nosiness. I like to know what's going on - when it's going on. And Twitter does that for me. It's awesome. And you can keep up with people you knew in High School or famous people. Or you can keep up with me and I can keep up with you....won't that be fun?

Let me give you some great (and practical) reasons why you need Twitter.

See, I "follow" Natalie Grant on my Twitter. So the other day she text messaged this, "Just saw Baby Mama. Hilarious." Okay, so now when I see her in the mall or something and I want to touch her hair I have reason to go up to her and say, "Hey girlfriend, read where you saw Baby Mama. How was it?" And then she'll be all, "It was hilarious. Why are you taking pictures of my hair?" And it will be awkward, but it will be worth it. THANKS TWITTER!

Or let's say I'm at Marshall's or LifeWay. Now if you know me at all then you know I spend on average 38 seconds in either of these stores and then have to race to the restroom as if my life depends on it. Which it usually does. So I would text a message that says, "Something bad's goin' down at the LifeWay." And ya'll would get what I mean and intercessory prayer would spring up all over the place. THANKS TWITTER!

I have a friend from home that "follows me." If he buys an album that he likes he just texts, "Just bought the soundtrack from Gigli. Awesome." Now otherwise how would I have known that? THANKS TWITTER!

Or how 'bout this? I'm sitting at my favorite Mexican dive, Las Palmas, and I'm at a table beside Matt Damon, Angelina Jolie and Scott Baio. Well, I would pull out my phone and text a message that said something like this, "Eating cheap Mexican food, but still don't have enough money for the bill." And then hopefully my dad would read it and like, help me out, asap. Again, THANKS TWITTER!

So you see? Twitter is wonderful, it really is. If you've noticed that little red box to the right, that is my Twitter box. I have it set up so that when I leave a post it comes both to here and to the cell phones that "follow me." That way when I get my hair colored, eat at a great new restaurant, finish speaking at a church and am so excited I could bust, or see something hilarious and have no one to share it with, I just use Twitter to get the word out.

Just wanted you to know in case you wanted to sign up, too. It's free. It's fun. And it's at www.twitter.com.

And you just might find out what in the heck is making my house smell like a KOA.

Get Nice.

I'm getting Julio's Chips delivered to my door. Can you believe it? There is a God and He knows my address.

And there's a good chance He goes by Julio sometime...I'm just sayin'.

But yes, I received word today that a reader and lover of all things Stretch Marks had read about my plight and was happy to help. I should be receiving them in a few short days all wrapped up in a FedEx box and covered with those annoying little Styrofoam peanuts, that I'm not even gonna gripe about, because it will keep them safe. Just like a precious newborn or a tender reed. That's how I feel about my Julio's.

Seriously ya'll, I just don't know what to do with myself. Isn't that NICE of her?

And when I told the Attorney General I was receiving them he immediately blew out my bubble by telling me that they would be complete dust by the time they got here. But because I see the jar as half full instead of empty like most attorneys and say, funeral directors, I simply told him that if that happened to be the case I would just thaw out some chicken "and roll my chicken breasts in them."

Which I have to say made for an amusing moment. But I digress.

But still - I came up with a solution for even Julio's dust. Which makes me ingenious and very close to Paula Deen. And isn't that NICE?

I also want to thank all of you who sent me emails and left comments that you love the Stretch Marks blog and wanted to be added to my blogroll. Some of you were so encouraging...as opposed to others of you...and I will be happy to add you....as opposed to others of you. Oh, I kid. All of you were so NICE.

And I promise to add each of you as soon as I have one second to myself without a little helper. Wait, as soon as I have one second to myself without a little helper I am going to use the big girl potty. But I will do right after that. Promise.

And now speaking of NICE...

I am a perfecter of segues. Am I not?

Remi Hope has learned a plethora of words. A plethora. That's "a whole bunch" in Mexican. And I love to hear her try them out.

She's learned to tell me "you go" when she wants to play by herself.

She's also learned to say "Hi, Kelli" to every friend that calls me - whether it's Kelli or not - which makes Kelli extremely happy and not at all obnoxious.

She's learned the dogs name next door and so I'll hear "Hi Cody" occasionally. Once I even heard, "Gross Cody." Don't know. Don't wanna know.

She received a package from her Grandma and actually asked me "what is 'at momma?" which makes her sound so grown up and kind of makes me sad.

But what I really love to hear is her playing with her blocks. Apparently someone else is playing with her. I'm not sure who they are. But she sees them - and that's all that matters. (Unless that's a sign of something disturbing, in which case don't tell me.) But I watched her sit in the hallway and play blocks until the sun went down - all the while playing with her "friend." Now at this point I'm not sure what he/she did but it must have really upset her, because I watched as she took block after block, held it up and said, "No! No! You no play." Finally adding, "And GET NICE!"

Which he/she must have quickly obeyed because they continued to play quite well together until we had to head out to church where her teachers told me she beat up a little boy...again.

Apparently "GET NICE" only applies to those you can't see.

Though I know some in my life I'd like to use it on...can I get a "what-what?"

Lipo, Lifts and Links

This blogger thing has really taken the bloggyness right out of my blog. It's totally blogerrific and all, but seems quite blogadacious and hard to bloggerize.

All that to say - I'm confused.

From what I understand (and it ain't much, my friends) in order to blog you have to have some tech savvy. Not much, but at least some. I got none. I got less than none. I got so little tech savvy that when I first got my computer I thought the Attorney General had upgraded and gotten me one that played sound whenever you worked on it. But then I realized that it came with a cd player and it was just playing a cd he had put in. Oh, there are more of those stories....got time?

Which, to chase rabbits, reminds me of the other day when the AG and I were watching that commercial with Kelly Ripa and she's discussing the wonder of that new oven that "brings your water to a boil in 90 seconds" and I commented on how much I needed it.
He said, "You just got a new oven less than two years ago."
"I know but it doesn't boil water like that one. It takes about a minute and a half to boil."

He asked me not to tell anyone I said that but since my mom, my Granny and my 8th grade Science teacher are the only ones that read this I figured it was okay.

But I digress.

So anyway this little blog here has taken on quite a life of it's own; which I am proud as punch to say. And so I am wanting to start a blogroll. That's fancy talk for "I'm gonna put your name on the board if you don't mind and if you promise to be kind to me and not say mean things about me or the Attorney General although you'll probably want to say bad things about him cuz he's a bad, bad man but don't forget I added you to that there board and by cracky that mean's somethin' in these here parts."

But first I have to have your permission. Well, I don't suppose I have to have it. But the Attorney General - being, well, all Attorney like and all - thinks it would be best. For he fears we might get sued if I put your name on the board and then wrote a post on, say, the dialogue a woman has with her OBGYN and then you get all offended and say "how did you ever get my name? Take it down off of your bored or I'll sue." So maybe he's right, maybe permission would be the best way to go about it.

But just know that if I tack you up on the board you have to tack me up on your board. After all, it's the only fair way. I mean self-promotion is big people. How do you think Charles Nelson Reilly got to sit in that middle square for all those years?? Self-promotion, baby!!!



So if you read my blog (or if you like Charles Nelson Reilly).....and you know you do...don't be embarrassed...then you would you leave me a little comment or an email and let me know if it's okay if I tack your name to the wall. I'm even giving it a fancy title. It's gonna be called "Lipo, lifts and links" because, well, they all start with L.

So let me know. I'll be anxiously awaiting your reply.

Okay, in all honesty, I'll be sitting here with some cookie dough and will be mildly interested to see if I even get one reply. I don't want to build this thing up anymore than it has to be.