Dooley Drop-Off

I suppose there's something to be said for the kind of car you drive. I've never been a big believer in it, personally, though I will admit to feeling a little "oogie-oogie" when I see an old man with massive chest hair driving a Camero.

Sorry folks, that just never did it for me.

When I was in High School my mom used to tell me that a guy would never ask out a girl who had a nicer car than he did. I believed (and still do) that this was her way of getting out of ever buying me a nice car - but ha! ha! - it backfired on her when my dad bought me a cute little red thang for my 16th birthday. She rolled her eyes, but he swore it was so no knucklehead with mudflaps would ever ask me out.

Now I'm older and I still don't really care what kind of car you drive...I only care what kind of car I drive.

Oh, I'm kidding.

I really never have been a car snob. I suppose it's just never been my thing. Drive up in a Pinto or a Caddy and it makes me no never mind. Your ability to wear anything under a 12 however and we may have a serious issue to our friendship.

Last year when I was taking Remi to Mother's Day Out it seriously looked like a used car lot, dealing only in mini-vans, was running a sell. I never felt like I fit in. I didn't drive a mini-van. Still don't. It's nothing personal, really. I've seen those commercials where the kids pop up that table in the back and flip their seats around to play cards and I asked The Attorney General for one right there on the spot. So see? I'm no van snob. But you should really see that Mother's Day Out parking lot. It's a proverbial sea of golds and burgundy's, sliding side doors and those little stickers that show there is a mommy, a dadddy, two kids and a schnauzer living in their house.

Be warned mini-van haters. It's not a pretty site.

And then we moved.

And Remi started a new school.

A really, nice, Episcopal, private school.

With the really cute plaid uniforms and navy jumpers.

And I thought - finally - my mini-van days were behind me. Maybe I'd fit in here. Maybe my little black SUV wouldn't be alone.

But it is.

It still is.

Because I don't drive one of these.

And allow me to go on record now as saying, "And. I. Never. Will."

Not there's anything wrong with a 2-ton Diesel Dooley. Oh, no. They are big and manly and I feel certain that as soon as you swing the door open you smell things like beef jerky and deer food, but they're just not for me. I like things simple: My little leather seats with seat warmers for when my hemorrhoids are acting up, my Sirius radio and my 6-CD changer that has things like The Frey and Praise and Worship music in it. Not something that plays Montgomery Gentry or Waylon at a single whim.

I don't know, maybe I am a snob about cars. I mean, what if one day some little guy pops out of one of those tanks and Remi says, "Momma - that's Jacob. I love him. He drives that big truck and his mudflaps have my name on them." I'm not sure what I'll do exactly, but chances are her daddy will have her down at the nearest Mercedes dealership before I have to come up with anything.

Tuesday's Are Terrific Days for Random Thoughts.

There were no pig races this weekend around here and I'm starting to feel all outta sorts.

So I went on a jog.

You get it? Pig races? Jogging? Me?

Ah well.

This weekend was so tame in fact that I am starting to think moving to the 75904 is not as flashy and dazzling as I had expected it to be.

Friday night the AG took me out to dinner and to see The Informant with Matt Damon? Anyone else seen this? I would love to know your thoughts considering I would probably choose an unmedicated colonoscopy over ever having to see it again. (Did that seem a little over the top? Trust me, it wasn't.)

On Saturday I took a nap and made a Paula Deen dinner (All 47,000 calories of it. Here it is if you're interested.) while The Attorney General went to a football game. And then on Sunday I got two screaming kids ready for church while my husband went to - you guessed it - another football game. Guess who had to pray against having that ol' ugly root of bitterness? Mwa!

Seriously though, he is a wonderful man and deserves a weekend full of football if that's what his little heart desires. He brought me back a Kings of Leon CD and some bags of peanuts from Logans to make sure momma was happy. And she was!

Oh...another completely random note (since I am literally typing this post with absolutely no idea of where I'm headed) you all tell me your thoughts about some of the new shows that premiered last week. Let's see, we have:

The Good Wife
Flash Forward
CougarTown
Accidentally on Purpose
Modern Family
Mercy
Community

Of course I have my thoughts...have you ever known me to not have my thoughts? But I want to know yours. Because I don't want to personally offend anyone by telling you that some of the shows were horrific and tasteless. I'll wait until tomorrow to do that, 'k? 'K.

So tell me what you thought and then I'll tell you if you're right or wrong and then we'll be friends forever. Until then...

Thanks for Pulling Me Out.

So last week I mentioned that I was in a rut. And boy was I.

Thank you all so much for bringing out your tractor, hooking it up to this poor girls sedan and pulling her .....uh...big tail....out of the muck. I so appreciate it.

I wrote down every single website that you all suggested. Every last one. And I have had some fun, let me tell ya.

Sure there are sites like www.drudgereport.com and www.digg.com that I neither know what they are nor how to navigate them but I know they came from Shawn so I feel certain they are right-winged and Republican to the hilt. And I'm down with that.

The AG would personally like to thank Katherine who sent me to www.ballarddesigns.com and now hears me talking about the Avondale Table and Chairs in my sleep. (In Italian Green, of course.)

Beth sent me to www.goodreads.com and I am allllllll about it. I've already created a bookshelf with my favorite books on it! And now I don't have to wander around the library going, "What was the name of that book so and so recommended?? What was it?? Ah, yes. Twilight." Now I will always have the names at my handy disposal.

My mom and I have gotten our money's worth out of www.awkwardfamilyphotos.com. Have you people gone here? WHY NOT??

Kar, I found www.churchexperiment.com to be so interesting. Did you read where he went to the Church of Scientology? Hellllooo?? But I love things like this, so I'm now a fan.

Missy, www.kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com makes me feel like I am doing nothing with my life. In fact, less than nothing. So thanks a lot for that. No, I'm not being sarcastic. I mean it girl, thanks for that. I needed it! What a precious blog.

Melissa sent me to www.alice.com and www.retailmenot.com which I thought were both really interesting. I'm more than anxious to see how these work.

Of course there are tons more I haven't had the chance to look at yet...and I'm dying to. So give me time. But I suppose that's the whole point; I want to be able to take my time, visit a few sites at a time, really get into them and then when they say or do something I disagree with then disregard them completely and move on down the list. See? That's how I roll. So some of them I may not get to for a little while - but that's all part of getting out of a rut. It takes a while.

Thanks again, my lovelies.

Did anyone else find a site that they didn't know existed and were thrilled to find?
In other words, did anyone else benefit from my fabu post?

See? Stretch Marks isn't just about who you know, it's what you know.

Okay, it's mostly about who you know. Glad I know y'all.

You Just Thought We Were Classy.

Now you know we are.



So here's my little darlin' at the Forest Festival this past weekend. That's right. It's called The Forest Festival. What's wrong with that? You got something to say about it? I think it's nice to be festive about the forests; to celebrate timber and pine with rides and corny dogs; to promote things like nature and rag weed with things like roasted corn and pig races.


That's right. I said pig races.

Wave if you love a good pig race!

Rocco got to ride his first carny-ride. It was the carousel. It went over 96 miles and hour and he was held in place by two women who can barely stand upright as it is. One laughed till she peed and one got off the ride and was so dizzy she couldn't figure out where to get out. I'll let you determine which was which.

And this would have been the humbling moment when Remi told her Nonie to "find your own horse."

Because I am a tad classier than my counterparts I chose not to partake in the carousel riding or snake handling. Instead I hung out near Ray's Cajun Catering Van and shelled out $2 every few minutes for what he described as "the world's greatest stuffed shrimp." Preach on, Ray, preach on.

All in all it was a great experience. Oh, sure, there were some things we could have done without.

But I had a good time - even when all 11 of us were lost from each other for about an hour. (*Note to self: If the AG and I are going to ever get "accidentally" separated in a crowd guess who will always end up "accidentally" without the children? It ain't him.)

So if you'd like to join us next year just leave me a comment. I'm sure they could always use a couple more in the pig race...or we could at least go for some ribs after.

And I Thought I Was the Dancing Queen.

You should hear me sing the ABBA song. I can tear it up.

But apparently I can't tear it up quite like this lady.

So just in case you had forgotten I moved to the 75904 and just in case you had forgotten the 75904 was located in deep East Texas and just in case you thought deep East Texas was located somewhere other than THE BACKWOODS here is living proof:

From the front page (the front page people! This made the front page!) of the Lufkin Daily News (which is an adventure in reading all on its own):

Police: Women Steal Money From Dancing Queen
Dancer who won $400 at REO

has winnings stolen by disgruntled patrons

By JESSICA SAVAGE
The Lufkin Daily News

Friday, September 18, 2009

A prize-winning dance competition at an area night club late Thursday ended in highway robbery.

*You might think this would be a nifty play on words, all dolled up by the Lufkin Daily...you would be wrong. It actually was "highway robbery."

Lufkin Police arrested six women early Friday for stealing $400 in winnings from the dancing queen during a confrontation on Denman Avenue, just inside Loop 287, according to a police spokesman.

*Yes, the question you are asking yourself right now, the answer is "yes." Instead of calling her by name they are referring to her as "the dancing queen." Apparently I have been dethroned.

A woman told police she won the money during a competition earlier that night at Club REO off U.S. 69 south.

*This is Club REO. Call ahead now to reserve your spot.

After her win, she exchanged words with some women at the club who were apparently upset about it. She then left the club with a friend, said Lt. David Young.

*"Lt. Young, tell us, what exactly were the women upset about? That she was a better dancer than them? Or that the song she chose to dance to was 'Ain't No Party Like A REO Part Cuz A REO Party Don't Stop!'"

As the two were driving into Lufkin, they noticed an SUV following them. They pulled over on Lilac Street and several women in the SUV got out. At least one came over to the car and punched the winner. That person then reached in the car and took the winnings, which were tucked inside the woman's bra, Young said.

*Uh...I could go places with this. But I won't. Her bra??? Seriously??? Okay, maybe I will go places with this. First of all, if someone reached into my bra they would be charged $400. Not to mention they would probably find my house key, a package of mints, a hotel room key I lost this past summer and a cherry tomato I've been looking for since last Tuesday.

The two women in the car sped away and called police. The person in the SUV also tried to leave,

*Wait for it...wait for it...

but it got stuck in the mud, Young said.

Police arrived and arrested six women believed to be involved in the robbery. The SUV had to be towed.

Those charged with robbery included Crystal Brown, 20, Robin Griffin, 33, Vivian Howard, 25, Katasha Sterns, 20, Samica Sterns, 24, and Aretha Waters, 19.

*Smile ladies! You're on the internet!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And here is the reason why the next time someone asks me to bust out my Dancing Queen moves I am going to do three things:

1. Take off my moo-moo and put on something a little less forgiving...

2. Ask them to change the song to Rock This Party (Everybody Dance Now)..

3. And check my bra. Chances are whatever I've hidden in there needs to be pushed down a wee bit more.

Rut.

I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to write about on this here post, but as I was sitting here "surfing the Internet" (as they say) I decided to share with y'all my problem.

I'm in a rut. An Internet rut.

I have no where to go. Honestly. It's like when you live on the south side of town and so all you do is shop and eat on the south side of town but then one day someone from the north side says, "Why don't we try Applebee's" and you're all "Applebee's?" and they're all "Yeah, Applebee's" and you're all "We don't have an Applebee's" and then they're all "Uh, yeah we do - on the north side of town...right beside Bath and Body Works" and you're all, "Bath and Body Works???"

I know. Applebee's and Bath and Body Works. I really need to get out more.

So whenever I sit down to the computer there are exactly five places I look. That's it. Five.

One is Facebook (is it completely un-American to say "BORING!!"), another two are blogs, one is MSN homepage (Dear Lord, this is sadder than I thought) and the last one is a site for movie trailers. If I'm feeling all persnickety and wild abandon I might go to Food Network, but I have to really be smokin' something to do that.

So I need some help. Where do you all go? What are some crazy sites that I am just totally missing out on? Is there a blog out there I don't know about (probably), a really great shopping site, an entertainment site or something hysterically funny?

I could use all the help you have to offer. Because I did hear of a site called weather.com but I am going to have to pray about that before I venture out that far.

Help! Meet you on the north side.

There Is Nothing Ironic About Show Choir!

As we watched Glee the other night The AG wondered aloud whether or not they followed me around with a camera when I was in High School and I just didn't know it. Take for instance the scene where the Glee Club leader tells Rachel that she "can't have every solo and be the star of every show."

Take it from me: Those are fightin' words.

And the example I will leave you with was tonight as I waited for Remi to get out of dance class; I am standing in the hall with about six other momma's when one of them says to me, "You look so familiar." I tell her that I grew up in this town but that I moved away for some time and had recently moved back. I told her I graduated from Hudson and she interrupts, "Oh, I think you graduated with my brother...weren't you his class president?"
"Uh, no."
(Getting excited) "Didn't you do 4-H or something like that?"
"Nope, not me."
(Now with much anticipation) "Oh, did you play basketball really good on the girls Varsity team?"
"Seriously?"
"What did you do?"
"I sang."
(And now with mucho disappointment)"Ohhhh yeah...Melissa Lee...that's right."





So, Kasey (one of my three true readers), to answer your question, this is what we're watching this season. You asked if I was watching the Biggest Loser, and the answer is "yes", because everyone knows Show Choir kids are, in fact, the biggest losers. And I was proud to be one.





Seriously. Y'all should have heard me bust out in some Gloria Estefan. Let's see if they can bring that back.

Didn't think so.

Since When Are Walking and Teeth That Big of a Deal?

I feel like I am living in some kind of parallel universe, where up is down, right is wrong, teeth are for more than just tenderizing sirloin and walking is overrated.

And let me go on record right now as saying: Teeth ARE NOT for more than tenderizing sirloin. God gave us teeth for meat. The end. Amen.

But down here in the 75904 people are all caught up in what goes on with their teeth. Which is shocking to me considering I just knew I was moving to a town where people had very few teeth and were proud of it. But again - parallel universe. Turns out that people down here are freakish about their teeth. In the four weeks I've been here:

• The AG had his braces removed, he is now looking into teeth whitening (and apparently he is trying to land a gig on the Gameshow Network, who knew.)
• My dad had braces put on.
• My little sister is getting her braces removed.
• My mom informed me one of her tooth(s) / teeth / teeths / toothies is completely fake (please, if you see her in the grocery store, ask her to open up and try to guess which one it is, she loves that).
• My uncle Donald is having one of his extracted.
• And Rocco has decided to grow a pair. (Of teeth, that is. I realize now that sentence sounded horrible.)

Of course, as of now, Rocco seems to be the only one drooling. But I reckon it's only a matter of time before the others catch on. Rocco seems to be the only one who has figured out, "If I drool enough then they allow me to take naps, give me tons of ice cream to eat, and don't spank me for spitting food out onto the floor. They also seem to think my irrational amount of poo diapers is due to 'the tooth' coming in, when in reality its all the stinkin' Blue Bell. Idiots."

Now I am feeling the pressure to have my teeth cleaned. Not that I'm in a hurry, it's been like, six years, so chances are if they're gonna fall out they are probably too far gone.

And the walking. Oh, the walking.

• My two aunts were walking every evening, but I've since convinced them to join me in the pool for synchronized swimming. I mean, aerobics.
• My Granny, bless her, wants to walk but has hurt her knee and can't. It could have been when she fell in my moms room and no one was there to help her up. As she put it, "I was on the floor like a beetle and no one came to help me!" (Which beckons the question, if a Granny falls in the bedroom does she make a sound? If it's my Granny, the answer would be YES!)
• Rocco has decided that five steps is enough for him. They are consecutive, I'll give him that. But other than that it's a no-go. He feels Nonie's arms are quite warm and comfy and not nearly as time consuming as moving your feet.
• Last night I tried on a pair of my jeans. Nope. The AG suggested I start walking. What is this grand fascination with all the walking?

So here I am in the 75904 with people all like, "Hey, Melissa, you should really call the dentist and get your teeth cleaned and also you should start walking for your health..."

What is up with that? Next thing you know they'll be nagging me to get my cholesterol checked and my hair washed. Great! The last thing I expected when I moved back home with my mom was to be nagged all day. Oh, wait...

Thoughts?

Hey, mock her. Mock me.

Long before there was Mariah and her Vision of Love - there was Whitney. And I was as true to her as I was to my Joey McIntyre poster and my Swatch watch.

To this day I know every grunt, trill, roll and breath to How Will I Know...I remember falling asleep at night to Saving All My Love For You...and if you don't stand and salute when I Will Always Love You comes on, then you t'ain't no friend o' mine.

I tried to fix my hair like her. I learned every trick she did vocally and practiced them 3400 times a day. And to this day - when I'm feeling all showy and powerballady - I break out her vibrato. It has served me well.

Sure she isn't as fresh faced and vocally polished as she was at 25. But hey, who is? Still, tell me your thoughts. For her? Against her? Still like her? Or over her?

I promise never to do this to you again. Unless of course Celine falls off the face of the earth, marries someone from New Edition, becomes addicted to illegal drugs and then resurfaces like a Venus rising. Then, yes, I will be doing it to you again.

Girlfriiieeeennnndddd.

If you had been a fly on the wall this past weekend, you would have been one really rich fly. Because this past weekend we stayed in the Ritz Carlton. And as God as as my witness, I shall never stay in a La Quinta again.

Granted, we stayed there because they were running a really good deal and because we were splitting it four ways, but nevertheless it was all kinds of luxury. They had a special Girlfriends Get Away weekend and since it was time for our annual pilgrimage the Golden Girls and I packed up and spent the weekend in style.

Here she is, Nicolle. My maid of honor - both in my wedding and in my life. If I got married today she would still have the same position. She loves me unconditionally, tells me when my hair looks ridiculous and rolls her eyes when I put my foot in my mouth. She never ceases to make me laugh, and her favorite people are unpretentious ones. I adore her.

This is Angela. She is the kindest person I've ever met (and I've met a lot of people.) There is no reason, whatsoever, that we should be friends. But we are. I've known her longer than I've known any other friend in my life; she is my oldest (and probably dearest) friend.

This is Kristen. She is demonstrating a pelvic thrust that she swears her 8th grade Show Choir teacher made her perform. There is no one person anywhere in the world with a memory like hers; she can remember every funny, silly, selfish, ridiculous thing we have ever said or done. She is hysterically funny...and oh, see that shirt she's wearing? Yeah, she'd give it to you in a heartbeat if you needed it. She's just that kind.

So had you been that little fly on the wall this past weekend you might have overheard four girls, who have been friends since 1st grade, and were just elated to be away from kids and carpools and reasons for having to shave their legs say...

"I'm going to go back for another dessert. I only got two that time."

"You look like a sausage, stuffed in your own casing."

"Honestly, I think a fat man should use some modesty...he was topless."

"I have always known the Mexicans to be a very happy people."

"We're not hairy anywhere."

"Y'all, he was circling me like a shark in the water."

"Alright now, Cap'n Crunch."

"He touched my little peach."

Until next year, Golden Girls. I love you.

A Short Story.

Let's Walk It Out.

There's something to be said for counting backwards.

Someone once told me that if I had trouble falling asleep I should start at 100 and count backwards. It didn't work. However, a big, fat Tylenol PM and some Deuteronomy 3 worked great!

Then there was the time I went in for surgery and they had me count backwards from 10. I think I made it to 9. Although when I woke up I overheard them saying I looked like LeAnne Rimes. What? I assure you LeAnne Rimes would not be laying on this metal table in a paper gown for her HEEL SPURS.

But now I have found a new outlet for counting backwards. One that will land you in a very envious position...

In my family, if you can count up to 8 and back down again, then you are heretofore qualified to lead water aerobics.

Did you hear that people?

I will say it again, for it is a sentence that even God Himself never thought He would hear come out of my mouth: I am leading water aerobics.

I will now take your questions:

Melissa, are you qualified to lead water aerobics?
- Cindy, in PA.

Dear Cindy,
Not even a little bit.

Mel, what does it take to lead water aerobics?
- Joy, Colorado Springs.

Joy,
1. Really big flotation devices.
2. Oh, and four women who are willing to follow you into the deep end.

Dear Melissa, Can I come to your class? I bet it's a hoot!
- Loretta, Lubbock, TX.

Loretta,
Boy it is ever a hoot! But no, my dear, you are not allowed to come. And here's the reason why: I only allow those in the pool who look worse than I do in a bathing suit. Which is why I constantly surround myself with these four women.

Melissa, Why are you doing this? And where do you get your moves from?
- Gena, Pittsburgh.

Dearest Gena,
Have you no faith in me? Don't you know me at all? I get my moves from various classes I have been in over the years, but also from dance moves that I have tried to mimic since the 80's but was never able to perform on dry land.
Just last night we did Hammertime, A Rockette high kick and The Snake. I am not sure that any of these do any good for our bodies (and they do even less for our self esteem) but it sure is fun to think - even if only for a moment - that MC Hammer took off on an underwater world tour and asked five fluffy women to accompany him.......a girl can dream.

So there you have it, my lovelies, yours truly is teaching a water aerobics class. I would invite you to join us, but you must fit a certain profile:

1. You must be a woman who views one piece bathing suits / tankinis / or (God forbid) bikinis as signs of the end of the days. Instead, you are a woman who opts for the all-purpose and multifunctional SWIMDRESS. As all good, classy, fat, Southern women do.

2. It helps to be opinionated and loud. Ours is a class where we feel the freedom to yell out things like, "That is hurting! I'm going to stop now." Or, "I don't like working that part of my body, ain't gonna do it." I especially like it when they yell, "Why are you making us do this? Who made you God?"

3. Yesterday I had just gotten my hair colored. So I refused to do anything that made any kind of splash. The others agreed this was smart. You must always agree with me on these things.

4. It also helps if you are the type of woman who spends the last 20 minutes of class discussing what she's having for dinner when she gets home. Last night we heard, "I can't wait to get outta here and go eat some Fettuccine Alfredo" followed by, "Really? We're having Shrimp Scampi. It called for a whole stick of butter."

Granted, these are not things that make me, the fearless leader, feel all that great, but I press on - just like Christ called me to. Because chances are, when He called us to "press on toward the goal" He was referring to the day when you can finally lead four Southern women in swimdresses to a place where they don't continually ask for sweet-tea breaks, or have to tell their leader to put "Laverne and Shirley" back where they came from.

Thank you all for coming out today; let's warm it down and walk it out.

Swine -1-1 !!

Look at you all coming out of the woodwork to leave me a post about your care packages. Way to go, my lovelies, let's hope we don't all get sick at the same time or there will be a world embargo put on all cocoa beans and People magazine. Talk about a national crisis!

Makes me feel good to know that I am not the only woman in the world who likes her People and US, thankyouverymuch. Just this past week The AG tried desperately to put the kabash on my spending habits on these two items, but thankfully a girl at his office reminded him how terribly unfair it was making me choose, "Don't make her choose, it's like choosing the Old Testament or the New Testament."

And all God's children said...

~~~~~~~~~

You know how when you turn on the news and they report that someone in Odessa has the Swine flu and how there is an outbreak at the local schools you think to yourself, "Sure glad I don't live in Odessa but even more glad I don't have the Swine flu."

Well guess which one of those things can no longer be said about us?

I'll give you a hint: We don't live in Odessa.

Mallory, my 12 year old sister, gets in the car at 3PM on Friday with what could only be confused with some kind of 1922 whooping cough and a fever. She sounded horrible. And had sounded fine only hours before. "Bring her in. Now!" They told us and mom flew her to the Pediatrician's office where he informed her that she was in the beginning stages of the H1N1 and "oh yeah...it's going around your school" and "please make your daughter and her two babies leave your house at once...little ones can't be around it you know."

And as bad as I felt for Mallory - and don't misunderstand me, I did feel bad for her - I still told my dad I felt it was only right that he make Mallory leave since she was the sick one and besides "there are some really nice hotels in this town and she loves Pay-Per-View" and then he explained that she was, indeed, 12. And sick. And then I told him he needed to choose which daughter he loved more. And then he chose her.

So, with the exception of those long sticks that you hang your clothes off of, The AG and I and our two rugrats packed up and took over Melba, Donald, Meridith and Bubba's house for the weekend. Which was great! We got the master bedroom! Oh yeah, I worked that like a fine wine; Meridith tried to put me in Bubba's room but I'm no fool...I complained about my poor babies who had been shut out by their Poppie and how I feared that all of us crammed into that room might make us resent him all the more.

Needless to say my dramatics worked and within minutes everyone was re-arranging their lives so we could have the big bed.

It was actually a great weekend. Their was chili cheese dogs and Blue Bell, tons of Bananagrams (love, love, love it) and Dark Blue (sweet mama, this show is awesome.) And at night all I had to do was stretch out with The AG in the big bed while Remi slept on the floor...Rocco slept in a closet...two grown adults crammed into their sons small bed...and Mallory sat writing her last will and testament due to the H1N1. Well, it was a great weekend for me anyway.

How was yours?

This Message Brought to You By Hallmark.

Someone here at the 75904 has had a bad couple of days. A really bad couple of days. The kind of couple of days that you wish you could do something about, but you know you can't.

I know. Because I, too, have had those exact same kind of couple of days. And believe me, there's nothing anyone can say. And the sweetest friends are the ones who try not to; who call you just to say, "Hi. I love you. Bye." Anyone have those kinds of friends? Can I get a whatwhat?

Oh yes, the best ones are the ones who try not to list off what you should do.
But instead just listen to where you are.

Who try not to come over and help.
But just come over to hang.

The kind of friend who says, "I don't know how you're doing on the outside honey, but your hairs holding up beautifully."

So today, on my way home, I passed by her house and left my idea of a care package. The idea of the care package first came to my attention my freshman year of college when I opened up a box sent by my Granny. Inside of it were a stack of index cards, some Aqua Net hairspray, a half gone pack of gum, a framed picture of my dog, a banana and some homemade cookies. I may have laughed at the randomness, but I also cried at the thoughtfulness.

Sometimes a care package consists of half eaten gum. Sometimes it consists of Ben and Jerry's. Or in the case today it consists of cookie dough, Dr. Pepper, a box of Kleenex and a People magazine. Oh, and an offer for chips and queso on yours truly whenever she's ready to talk. (And I don't know about her, but chips and queso would have me up and out of the house in like, 10, 15 minutes.)

It might not be the best care package in the world - but it was just a little something from my heart; where she abides today, as well.

Just so I'll know for future reference of course, what would be in your care package?

Rocco: The Eternal Surprise

A couple we know brought their brand new baby home this weekend. And due to my inability to ever listen to what anyone asks of me, I showed up, unexpected and bright and early. And I would like to think they were pleased as punch to see me, but I lie to myself quite often.

But as that momma lay in that rocking chair holding the baby that they had longed for and prayed for - and that some really unselfish young girl has entrusted to them - I couldn't help but think of myself just one year ago. I guess it was because I saw her staring into that babies eyes as if to say, "I know I love you and I know you're mine...but it might take us both a while to get used to each other. Cause right now we just feel like strangers sharing the same couch."

Such are the joys of adoption, I suppose.

For nine months baby never hears your voice - but someone else's. It's someone else's voice and heartbeat that bonds to them. And quite likely, it is someone else's arms they are first placed into. Maybe someone else's eyes they first peer into. And it can leave an adoptive mother in a precarious position; for moments later that child is in your arms, at your home, and there you are (usually at 3:45 AM) staring deep into someones eyes that seem pretty unfamiliar to you.

And so it was with Rocco. I will admit this.

It did not come naturally with he and I. It did not come fast with he and I. The love may have been there - but the admiration? Not so much. I welcomed him into my home, just not really into my world. Whereas he welcomed my food, just not really me giving it to him. And I began to worry because it all happened so naturally with Remi, so quickly, effortlessly. But not with Rocco.

I remember a lunch I had with The AG one afternoon at Captain D's (cuz that's just how we roll) and me saying, "I don't know what's going on...I just ain't feelin' it...I can't bond with this child...he won't let me sleep or eat or shower...and it's like he dislikes me, too. What do we do? Am I a horrible person?"

StretchMarks: Where The Ugly Truth Reigns Supreme.

For all you mothers out there who first felt this with an infant please stand on your head so I will know who you are. Yes, you there...with the bags under your eyes and your bra on the outside of your clothes...I see you...Thank you.

But just as sweetly as he could he gently reminded me that "with a little rest, a long shower, and another two weeks or so, I guarantee you that you change your tune."

Never, ever doubt The AG.

Because just as I was surprised when he slipped into my world. I was that much more shocked when he slipped into my heart.

And boy howdy, did he ever.

Rocco is what every momma dreams of: blond hair, blue eyed, football crushing, chick magnet, mamma's boy. And just when I think he can't woo me anymore, flirt with me any better or kiss me any sweeter...he does it again. And I am reminded once again that God knows more what we need than we even know ourselves.

Happy Birthday, Rocklin. You are my sweet, sweet, sweetest surprise.

Copperheads and Country Living.

So my dog comes limping up to the car yesterday afternoon with a hurt paw. A really hurt paw. We're talking sever swelling, blood, all the things that make you go "somebody attacked my dog! Some redneck attacked my dog just because she's from Tennessee and she has a really bad hair cut right now and she can't make friends as easily as some!"

Within seconds the AG scooped her up, put her in the back of the car and off we went to the vet. Which I felt was a little ironic due to the fact that...

a.) I was currently on the way to the dermatologist because I, too, had something wrong with my paw. Something had bitten me several weeks ago and I needed to go have it looked at and...

b.) Not only did the AG not scoop me up I think he partially backed out of the driveway before he realized I wasn't inside the car.

Men and their priorities.

So after slamming on the brakes and giving me the head nod to "go, get out" he drops me off in front of the dermatologist knowing full well that the bite on my foot could be so severe that they have to remove my foot or at least my pinkie toe or worse, I may never wear flip-flops again. And off he raced to the vet with the dog!!

Sheesh.

Well, come to find out our poor Sadie had been bit by a copperhead. Whereas all I had was a wart. The bad news? She may die. The good news? I'm back in flops.

Oh, I'm kidding. She's going to be fine thanks to the AG's reaction time. How quick he was when he thought that he might lose the only thing in his life that lays at his feet and likes to be scratched on the belly. His reaction to me was quite different...

"You didn't act near that fast with me, ya know. And I could have been dying."

"Oh geez, I know. Had I gotten you to the doctor one minute later an actual hair might have grown out of that thing!"

See what I have to put up with?

On our way back from the the vet The AG made this prediction, "What do you bet that by the end of the day today everyone in your family knows that Sadie was bit by a snake?" Of course I didn't take that bet because I knew darn well the man was right.

And he was.

At 7pm last night my aunt Melba called, "How is Sadie? I hear she got bit by a copperhead."

"Really, how did you hear that?"

"Well, your mom must have told Granny and Granny told Meridith and Meridith told Bubba. Bub mentioned it to Donald over dinner and then they told me when I got in from work."

'Nuff said. Never bet against The Attorney General.

And thanks to country living at it's finest my Granny has already worked out a plan for that snake - oh yes, sir, she has...

"Granny called Bubba and asked him to grab his gun and put on his waders. She thinks that snake is out back in the swamp behind Michelle's house."

"So Granny feels certain that the snake that bit Sadie is in the swamp behind Michelle's, even though we all live on some 30+ acres and it could be anywhere. And that said snake has been completely stationary since this afternoon around 1pm. And that Bubba will be able to track it down with nothing but waders and a gun?"

"Yep. You know how she thinks Bubba can do anything...like he's Native American or something."

And it's here that I became stumped as to what was more absurd: Granny's "call to action" or the fact that Melba finds Native Americans almost superhuman.

Yep folks, it's just another day in the 75904.