I started writing an entirely different post today and realized every single word that came to mind ended in 't-i-o-n'. Elation, Anticipation, Expectation, and on and on it went. And that made me remember the Electric Company song back in the 70's called T-I-O-N. And that got me completely off track from the original subject and now I find I've yielded to the ADD. So, with that said, here's my contemplaTION.

My memories on the words of the TION song were vague but I was pretty sure it was simply a song about suffixes. Because I had all kinds of spare time on my hands, I decided to indulge my need for nostalgia and look it up on You Tube.

I should preface what I'm about to say by telling you I am greatly distressed about a commercial I saw the other day for the new School House Rock: Earth. Y'all, SHR is going Green. It's not that I'm fundamentally opposed to all The Green but I'm completely sick of the over-commercialization of it. I know God gave us this planet and we are obligated to be proper stewards of His creative work, but there are segments of the population who have taken this movement into the realm of religion and are worshiping the created rather than the Creator. I try to teach my kids about wastefulness, yada yada, but I'm a little over the Green indoctrination that now appears to be taking over cartoon programming in addition to the school work and cereal boxes. In my humble opinion, SHR should stick to grammar which, in North Alabama anyway, seems to be a much larger issue than whether or not we heathens bought bottled water this week.

Anyhoo, when I found the video on You Tube, I realized something pretty huge. The whole Green Thing isn't so new after all. Apparently we were singing about Green-ing even then. Y'all watch.

So tell me, and be nice, where do y'all stand on the whole Green Thing? To what lengths are you going to be more environmentally friendly? Will you still love me if I tell you we create at least two bags of garbage a day or just shake your head in frustraTION?

Wow. I can't believe I'm posting this.

Ahhh, Monday. A new beginning to a new week that is so jam-packed I will only be able to face it by focusing on one day at a time. Today, I'm taking my happy self to McDonald's so I can get some real studying/writing done. I know that sounds like the most lame plan ever, but something about the gentle background noise of Fox News and the fountain of neverending Diet Dr. Pepper soothes me much more than the voices I hear from the laundry room screeching, "Wash Me! Fold Me! Put Me Away!" At a point in my life when I finally have the house totally to myself, I must leave it to think.

I'm sure there is a medical diagnosis just waiting to be made there but I choose to cry out to Jesus while sitting in the lap of Ronald McDonald. It works for me.

In the meantime, I'm basking in the greatness of this weekend. Luke and I went with our college/newlywed kids from church to Huntsville for a belated Christmas party/early birthday party for our teacher Clay and Number One Funnyman, Adam. We ate at Longhorn and I had the most fabulous mushroom stuffed filet. So much for the diet. I think I made everyone sick at the table with my bloody steak as I'm a huge fan of Medium Rare but it was, in short, delectable.

There's more I would like to share about our evening but it would include my once again divulging less-than-flattering details about my hubby's driving skillz. Let's just call him Aesop because in the end, a great "You can't just DO that!" moral lesson was learned by all. And yes, I'm being mysterious on purpose. My college peeps know the deal and we've all sworn to protect the Preacher's Honor. It's so wonderful to have a safe place!

Moving on, we had a fabulous church service yesterday. I'm not at all ashamed to tell you my man was on FI-YAH. He would be the first to tell you it was nothing he did but rather God moving on him powerfully to share a difficult but necessary word. It was a beautiful display of the Spirit and I won't soon get over it.

Okay..I'm losing my Mickey D. time so I'm off.

I'll tell Ronald you said Hi...

Lindsee tagged me for Seven Random Things and, true to form, I've waited way too long to holla back (am I too old to pull off Gwen?) at one of the most darlin' little college girls I've never met. (Never met yet I should add...San Antonio had better watch out!) So here's to you, Lindsee! May your hair retain that glossy lustre and your shoe collection increase one hundred fold.

(It was meant for me to do this today. I JUST got an email with the same tag from Robyn at 3 Girls Mom. So here's for you, too, my Alabama friend! :)

Here's my current list of randomness in, you guessed it, no particular order....



1. I was a rockstar for a day!

Apparently Boomama and I had the same idea about hosting a Garden/Spring Tour thing. When I found out she'd thought about doing one too I had a flash back from high school when the new girl dared encroach on the territory of the homecoming queen. Let's just face it, her blog can squish my blog like an insignificant little bug and I totally would have yielded. But, because she is Southern thru and thru, (and I'm suspecting the Jesus lovin' factored in as well) she graciously gave the party to me and even linked it so her gajillion readers would find it - the bloggy equivalent of delivering a freshly baked pound cake (or 1000 cakes as it were) with fresh berries.

I am certain it comes as no surprise for me to tell you that Sophie is no Mean Girl. Thanks again for being such a doll.

And, lest I forget to tell you, my stat counter called.


"Single digits, please? *cough* *wheeze* Can we return to the single digits?"


Oh poor, tired baby. You can rest soon.


2. My computer is even more awesome than I knew.


Y'all know that hubby surprised me with a new laptop for Christmas. Again, no real shocker that I haven't read the instruction book. I've just been using the basic functions because, hey, I'm a simple country girl.


I just figured out LAST NIGHT this fabulous piece of machinery has a slot for my camera card! No cords! Give Him Praise! I can put the camera card STRAIGHT INTO THE COMPUTER! And the pictures? They upload AUTOMATICALLY! Did y'all know this? And if you did, why in heavens name didn't you tell me? Is there anything else a computer manufactured since 1980 does that I should know about?



3. I am so sick of being cold.

This has been the year of Bone Chillin'. I don't know if it's my age or what, but I absolutely can not get warm. Today I went to McDonalds to write while The Girl was in Pre-K. (The Library was hosting Family Week for the town. Considering this is the loudest library in the history of Dewey Decimal, it's no surprise to me they would host a throw down in what is supposed to be a quiet place of study and contemplation.) Anyway, I promise the manager had the thermostat set on McArcticBlast. I typed for a solid hour and finally decided I could stand it no more when my fingers literally turned blue. I'm not exaggerating. I would never in a bazillion years exaggerate. But, even though I'd paid 2 dollars and 95 stinkin' cents to get online, I had to load up and take the whole operation to the Suburban so I could warm up. But, I did not leave! Oh no, I wasn't letting that precious internet time go to waste. So, I worked away in the confines comfort of my truck. Pathetic, huh?

(Y'all are going to love that Chapter. I'm certain it will be, considering the environment and the spiritual state I was in, the most riveting of them all.)


4. My new shoes hurt like the devil.


But I don't care. They are adorable.


5. My hair is currently the color of a fire engine engulfed in flames.

Not really. But it was.

Before our women's retreat I wanted to get my hair done. I had this bright idea that I could have the same color as Eva Longoria. My hair is naturally dark and this time instead of light brown highlights, I opted for Eva's auburn loveliness. See there? Those tinges of auburn?

I didn't get those.

I got Auburn War Eagle auburn. Also known as orange. (You would have liked it, Vicki)

My hair? It was on fi-yah.

Now, let me be clear it wasn't my hairdresser's fault. I got what I asked for. The problem was that I had blonde highlights so the auburn tint wasn't brown enough to make up for the leftovers of lightness. Holy cow. That made no sense whatsoever. Is anyone getting this?

So anyway, you know who your real friends are when one of them drags you to the drug store hair color section and buys a box of color for you. Let's just say it's toned down tremendously, and both my friend and I are now happy. Er. Happier.

However, and unfortunately, no amount of hair color will ever make me look like Eva Longoria.


6. Alabama birds have excellent aim.

Luke came in today and said, "What in the world did you do to make the birds mad?" Amazingly, there is no poop on the rest of my car. Just the rear view mirrors on each side. I'm thinking there must have been some sort of birdy smack down going on. You know, a Team Aniston vs. Team Jolie type thing. Team Passenger won as evidenced by their coating of both sides of the mirror. Team Driver? Maybe next time.

And hopefully next time it is Luke's truck instead of mine.

7. I loaded those bird poop photos straight into the computer. With NO CABLES. (See #2)

Did I mention I'm loving the camera card drive?

Don't ever say I can't give you some random, girls. I'm supposed to tag someone, but because I'm a rebel and I never know who likes these things, I'll just ask you to tag yourself if this looks like fun to you.

Have a great Tuesday!

I can only pop in for a second but I simply have to share what wonderful advancements I've made into my To Do List!!

1. I just finished my taxes!!! They are filed and I am proud to say that, even though we are self-employed ministers, we broke even. Praise Jesus who is head of all rulers, principalities, and governmental agencies!

2. I've finished the itinerary/info packs for our women's retreat next weekend.

3. My living room is vacuumed.

4. I was SHOWERED AND DRESSED AND MAKEUP'd by 10:00 a.m.

5. Even though I went running this morning!

6. During the walking part of my running, me and Jesus had some prep time for the study sessions for the aforementioned retreat.

7. Did I mention I had a shower before lunch?

And now all that's left is to....

1. Wash ball uniforms.
2. And lots more clothes.
3. Load my brand new dishwasher that, praise the LORD, actually washes dishes!
(I may have to post separately on that...I'm in dishwashing heaven if there is such a thing..)
4. Write and write and write some more...Gave myself an April 1 mini deadline on the next book chapter.
5. Study and study some more to prepare for our women's retreat..Oh how I can not wait!
6. Go to 4 ballgames tonight!



I'll check back in soon! Oh, and by the way, the chatroom is a hoot....Stop by! (Because don't we all need one more reason to spend more time on the computer??)

I wanted to take a minute to thank all of you who have responded to the latest Married to the Ministry Survey. I am learning so much from your comments. I think I was most stunned by the Preacher Wife requirements actually being included in the church by-laws. Are you kiddin' me, Cindy? That may have been enough to break the whole being silent in church rule cause I'd be staging me a protest over that one.

Oh, I kid.

Maybe.

I'll be responding more fully in the next day or so but honestly, it's Friday night and my brain is tired. That may have something to do with the fact I had to go to WalMart today. I don't know if it's my age creeping in on me but I can scarce make it through that place any more without breathing into a brown paper bag, whether there be square dancing competitions going on or not.

I was completely annoyed today because there were three , count them THREE, things that are my favorite things which WalMart appears to not be stocking any longer. Don't you just hate that? It never fails as soon as I find some little thing I really like that it is discontinued. Really, people. I don't ask for much in life so is it so bad to be disappointed when my great yogurt or cleaning supply suddenly goes MIA?

Just to give you an idea of what I'm talking about, here's my list of sadness:


1. Honey Maid Grahams 100 Calorie Packs

I absolutely love these and I can't find them anywhere. I can't figure out why they are the only variety to go missing since they are the healthiest choice carb/fat/sugar wise in the entire product line. Even Amazon says they are out of stock. Hopefully I can find them in the second-hand market at Big Lots so I can restock my Suburban. A girl's got to have comfort food in the 'Burb at all times.

2. Mr. Clean Magic Sponge Mop Head Replacement

Now someone please tell me why a store would sell a mop and within 3 months cease to sell the replacement heads? Actually, they aren't selling the mop either. These things are AWESOME and the only thing that will really clean our laminate flooring in the bathroom. I'll have to go back to the olden day method of getting on my hands and knees with the original Magic Sponge to scrub the floors. I can't even tell you how much I am looking forward to that.

3. Great Value Vanilla Low Fat/Light Yogurt

So you know I'm in the First Place group at church. One of the requirements is to have 2 servings of milk daily and considering I can't stand it, that's a bit of a problem for me. However, if you eat a yogurt that is less than 100 calories and sugar free, it counts as a milk instead of a carb. I have become obsessed with eating vanilla yogurt with thawed frozen strawberries mixed in. Well, guess who decided they weren't going to stock vanilla yogurt anymore? In Great Value or Weight Watcher brand? I mean really, at this point should I take all this as a sign the Lord has removed his favor? I may be tempted to believe this if it weren't for my number four.

4. Bama Salsa

Girls, I'm telling you there is no better store bought salsa to be had than the Collegiate brand. My WalMart was out of it for several weeks and I literally became despondent. However, in what could be no less than a work of the Holy Spirit on my behalf it showed up on the shelves again today. That almost made up for numbers 1-3.

I said almost.


So what about you girls? Do you have any favorite stuff that you can no longer find in your neck of the woods? Did you find a replacement or have you continued to long for that which you can not have?


(And for the record, I don't think that's sinnin' one little bit.)


Have a great weekend!

I can not even begin to tell you how completely thrilled I am over the registration for our church's womens' retreat this year. 48 women have decided they are ready to Get Over It!


Did I mention there were 48 of us? As in almost half of 100. In Roman there are L. In Greek there are. Oh yes, girls. I am internationally happy about the 50. Considering this is roughly half of our town's population, I imagine the grocery store and four-way stop will be significantly quieter once the last husband's wallet has been plundered and we head on our way.

Obviously I can't wait for the time together in God's Word. There is nothing more powerful than a group of women who set apart a weekend to meet with the highly exalted Living One. My prayer is that we will look into the mirror of scripture and not walk away still looking a wreck. Oh yes, we have some primping to do, spiritually and physically speaking.

That primping will not be hard to accomplish as we break open this while we relax here. And eat here. And shop here. And take a break here before we return here.

I am positively giddy about this whole trip and just had to go ahead and release some of my squeals before my head popped off.

In other news, I have to share with you that I told my friend Brooke via text this morning that I dreamed about my dog Daisy last night. In this dream, there was a lion in my yard and Daisy and the lion were fighting over a piece of steak. I kept yelling to her, "Daisy, it's a LION honey! You can't win. Let him have it! But she kept fighting and fighting until eventually the lion killed her.

Depressing, huh?

Now I'll really freak you out.

Tonight I told the kids to go feed the dog and one of the boys who shall remain nameless asked, "Did you buy her more food yet?" To which I replied, loudly and with concern, "NO one told me she was out of food?!"

"Oh, ummm, we thought we told you."

Well they didn't and after further investigation, I discovered the dog has not eaten in 2 1/2 days. 2 1/2 whole stinkin' days!! We jumped in the car to run to the store and buy some food. I'm ashamed to say I blew it with the kids by yelling about giving the dog away for the trip there and back. (And any comments about our pet neglect are not welcome here. It was an honest mistake, thankyouverymuch.) With all that said, there were three repentant boys in the backyard tonight petting the hound out of the hound dog. I think she's hoping they starve her more often for all the attention she got in return.

But, back to my dream. Do y'all think it was prophetic? Do you think God was trying to tell me Daisy was hungry enough to fight a steak from a lion and I just wasn't listening? (I'm kiddin' y'all. I've a ways to go before I dye my hair purple and buy myself a golden throne.) But seriously, that's freaky isn't it?

And considering how my dreams are increasingly getting weirder, I can't decide if I need to sleep less or more.

Tonight I vote for more.

Goodnite!

Last night I dreamed Luke and I were on a mission to save Alfred Hitchcock. Yes, you heard correctly. Alfred. Hitchcock.

The thing is, Alfred needed rescuing as he was in quite a dilemma. He had a writing cabin on the shore of a very dark lake in the middle of a forest. Each night found Alfred completing a chapter of his self-described masterpiece, his final work, on a black, manual typewriter. He would then stack the pages neatly on his desk before retiring to the comfort of his fireside recliner for the evening.

Sounds idyllic, huh? Well it would be had it not been for the mysterious man in black who snuck into Alfred's cabin and stole his manuscript. Because of Alfred's refusal to conform with the times, he had no computer backup of his work. The first time this happened, Alfred was baffled. He thought perhaps he had misplaced the tidy stack and that it would turn up. However, as the same thing began happening night after night he realized someone was determined to keep him from finishing his last screenplay.

That's where Luke and I come in. We were alerted by messenger that Alfred had requested our help to get him, along with his manuscript, out of his cabin and back home unharmed. Suddenly, our back yard became a grove of trees and we stepped in.

We fought our way through the thick vegetation until we arrived at the mirky lake. I was very much afraid but determined to help this brilliant gentleman who could not help himself. We discovered a row boat on the water's edge and carefully stepped inside to cross the water. However, I had to step more carefully than Luke seeing as how I was wearing a full length prom gown.

Yes, girls. If I'm going to rescue a famous playwright, I'm doing it in style.

Too bad the rowboat tipped over as we approached the dock and I was forced to walk on the grotesque lake bottom with my darlin' shoes squishing in the mud while Luke righted the vessel.

After we made our way out of the swamp-like water, we entered the cabin to find Alfred packed and ready to move. Thick file tucked under his arm, we led him back to the dock and the boat. It was then I felt an arrow dash past my ear and realized we were under attack.

And who said the prom gown wouldn't come in handy? I half-stood on the back of the boat (which had miraculously grown a motor) and shielded Luke and Alfred from the arrows with the thick tulle of my skirt. We dashed across the lake dodging several swimmers, all of whom were my fellow classmates in high school, while I wondered to myself why in the world they chose this place over our neighborhood pool where we'd spent countless summers together.

And that's where it ended.

I hope we completed the mission and got Alfred back to his home safe and sound. More than anything though, I just have one question:

What in the stinkin' world was all that supposed to mean?

I've had the teeth crumbling and falling out dream. The running from tornadoes dream. The not being able to remember my locker combination dream. All of those are supposedly connected to stress and I can somewhat make sense of that.

But Alfred Hitchcock? In a cabin? On a lake? Me and Luke rescuing him so he can write some weird movie? I totally don't get it unless 'ole Alfred is trying to communicate one last idea from the other side.

I would SO love to hear your interpretations of this one....

Aren't you glad you stopped by today? I always said blogging was another word for 'free therapy'.....

Okay, so this has gone on long enough. Today I give you the end of what must be the most ridiculous thing I have written to date.

I promise you some Jesus in the coming weeks, Girls. But for now, as the dear Paul Harvey would say, here's the rest of the story.

Now that I have established the necessary backstory about my issues with feet and my reasons for confidence in Asian nail salons, perhaps you will understand a bit better the thought process that led me to finally determine I was going to take the plunge and get a real live, non-cosmetology-school pedicure while on vacation in Florida. Or so I thought.

We went on vacation with our BFF's Chuck and Deb and their daughter, Tara. Tara is in her early twenties and always up for spending some cash to indulge her sweet self. She is a mall vendor's best friend - just ask the Israeli Dead Sea Mineral Makeup salesgirl who will now be able to move her entire family to the USA with her Tara Commission. But yet again, that's a story for another day.

I had determined this would be the year that I would splurge and get my First Real Pedicure. I didn't want to go alone and because of Tara's propensity to pamper, I knew she would be up to go with me. We weren't that particular about what salon we visited. Based on the history I've given you, here is a breakdown of my thought process:

1. Surely there would be a nail salon somewhere around the mall.
2. Most likely it would be asian.
3. Meaning we didn't need an appointment
4. Hopefully a girl would do my feet because, even though Joahd;ajknweor had done a great job on my nails, I wasn't too keen on a dude massaging my feet and legs.
5. If all went as planned, my tired feet would be replaced with exfoliated freshness topped with cute polish with polka dots or flowers like this.
6. Ahhh....sounded too good to be true.

It was.

On the fateful day, we drove around the mall and found a Salon. Do you believe in signs? I mean literally and figuratively? If so, you'll understand why I knew this particular place was meant for us. The name?

Lisa's Nail Salon.

It still slays me.

I knew it was a sign of Divine Favor. God wanted me to have a pedicure - a good pedicure - and so He showed me all burning-neon-bush-like that this was the right place.

Am I into neon signs anymore, you ask? Notsomuch. I'm working more with the Magic 8 Ball now which by the way assures me I am going to have a book in LifeWay one day....Something else to get excited about.

Anyhooo....Tara and I went in to the salon and as it worked out, they had time to do side by side pedicures. I was so excited! It was just so girly, you know. Sitting with my best little girlfriend, chatting it up while we got our feet done. The thing of perfect vacations are made of. And to top it off, the most darlin' girl came and began to work on my feet who was clearly experienced in what she was doing. I leaned back in my massage chair and prepared for bliss.

And then, just as I settled back in my chair, the Papasan of Pedicures came out and stole my girl. He.stole.my.girl. He sent her to begin working on Tara and out from behind him came my worst nightmare.

His eleven-year-old apprentice.

This man took my girl and replaced him with the Doogie Houser of Cosmetology.

Now I am sure this child was perfectly sweet but something about a kid who is 4 feet tall wearing saddle oxfords and a goofy grin doesn't inspire a lot of confidence. He bowed and grinned. And grinned some more.

I don't know about you but when I am in church and the kids are bored and acting up, I can normally give them some notebook paper and a pen to keep them happy for a while. Apparently in the world of nail salons, you give the hyper child some cuticle clippers, polish, and some toes.

Did I mention he never stopped grinning?

Doogie-san sat down and began working on my cuticles. Now granted, I had worked on them a bit myself because, based on the fact I had been on the other end of the foot before, I wasn't about to stick my overgrown cuticles in someone's face.

Because I'm all thoughtful like that.

But I expected some force, do you know what I mean? I expected the cuticle pusher to hurt just a little. No pain, no gain - right? But all I know to compare the timidity of his cuticle pushing with is that of a limp handshake.

And with that said, it was clear I was the very first pedicure this child have ever done in his entire life.

And I was devastated.

So Tara's girl is finished with her feet in no time and even shaved off her corns and bunions with a razor. My dude did not venture into Razor Land. I guess for that I should be grateful or I could have ended up a few toes short of a full pedicure like my Fungus Lady. Tara was already getting polished by the time the ever-grinning Doogie proceeded to lotion my calves.

A process I found entirely creepy.

It became obvious pretty early on I was getting no polka dots or flowers in my polish so I picked a reddish color Luke had said he liked. I was hoping Doogie would surprise me and at least be able to color within the lines.

Hope is now a word I use sparingly.

Boy Wonder began his work only to be confirmed as the worst nail painter in cosmetological history. Even worse than my mangled toe flesh paint job of the Fungus Lady. My toes looked like he poured the polish out of the bottle onto my toe and wiped off around it. It would be giving him too much credit to say it looked like my 8 year old son painted them. I was so deep in despondency at this point I was trying to justify my $30 was kind of like giving to foreign missions as I clearly was not getting any valued service. And all the while my compassionate friend Tara was sending me texts:

"I think he likes you."

That made it all better.

As we sat in the torture devices Shiatsu massage chairs to let our toes dry, the girl who did Tara's feet apparently could tell I was distressed. Doogie was unconcerned as he had moved on to a 9 year old girl. You know, someone his age. I called Tara's girl over and showed her my polish and said, "Can you fix please?"

And clearly she was well-trained in the political correctness of not dissing her fellow man's polish skilz, but the look of horror on her face said it all.

"Oh, so sorry. Soooo sorry." And to her credit, she had me looking as good as possible without applying skin bleach. My toes were stained red for days I tell you. After she was done, she said something with a lot of syllables to the boy and he looked at me.

And grinned.

And chicken poop never looked so good. Something tells me JOp0934[qn;kdf will need some help on the farm and I totally have his boy.

For clarity: The boy wasn't really eleven..I was exaggerating - Imagine that! But there's no way he was older than a teenager. I would never let an eleven-year-old work on my feet.

I positively draw the line at 13......

My sister sent me this cool survey today called 'Select A Candidate'.. You answer 11 questions and it generates which Presidential Candidate most aligns with your views.

If yours comes back Hillary or Obama - I can still love you through The Cross. :) I hear the Preacher can't campaign from the pulpit, but that doesn't extend to his wife's blog. With that said:

The phone call came immediately afterwards from the group of seven squealing little girls, (one of whom is my middle son's 'girlfriend') who'd done the deed. Thanks for that. Really.

And I would like to tell you this only happened Friday night - but no. Saturday night we got it again - this time by a group of boys from church. What's bad is I heard our dog, Daisy, barking but since she yaps at everything that moves in the night, I was too lazy to check. Being the good guard beagle she is, I hear she rolled right over and let BRIAN T. pet her while the boys finished the job. Good dog, Daisy. Good Dog.

Oh well...it's mostly cleaned up now. Beware yard-rolling people whose names start with Phil and Danette, Brian and Kerri, Maury and Kim. We saved the TP and you just never know where it is going to end up. :)

One more thing before I take off - how about a shout out to my #3 Boy, Big Daddy!! Today is his 8th Birthday. Know what he asked for? To be able to skip school and sleep late. I guess you know what I said to that request.

"Sure, baby."

The kid hasn't been able to sleep in for weeks so I decided it was entirely legitimate for him to indulge on his birthday. Look how cute my kid is in this somewhat identity-guarded photo..Oh, I do love him so.

I'm off to take my birthday boy to do some fun stuff. We've got the pitiful, sick face all worked out for anyone who may wonder why he's not in school...

Ya'll have a great Monday! :)

Aside from the first heartbreaking and now wonderful news of baby Emma, the blogging has been pretty pathethic around here lately. I do have a legitimate reason - this weekend, I am headed off to Pigeon Forge to teach the 'Get Over It' Conference I told ya'll about. I don't think I ever properly thanked you for your input. I have carried your notes around for weeks as I've prepared the material for these sessions. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for being so transparent. I KNOW your comments will translate to this group and that God will use His letters to the churches in Revelations to show how we be overcomers! My plans right now are to follow up the 'I AM' Study with Get Over It. More news on that soon. If you think of it, will you pray for me? That the Holy Spirit will cover me in His Glory and speak with His own sweet breath? If there has ever been a weekend when He has the opportunity to show off in contrast to a weak vessel, this is it. I'm counting on you and thanking you in advance :)

I thought you might also like to know I get to teach this conference with the hugest zit I've ever had. I'm SO not going to put a picture on here, but let's just say it looks like I am growing a second chin. I hope the women who are coming won't be distracted by the 1/2 second lag time it takes for it to follow the movements of my mouth. This may turn out looking like one of those badly dubbed Godzilla movies. Ya'll pray it doesn't turn into full blown leprosy.

In other news, today is my daughter's 5th Birthday! If you had been with us today, every 10 minutes or so you would have heard things like, "Why are we getting the oil changed on MY Birthday? Why is it taking so long to get to the Chinese Restaurant on MY Birthday? Did you know it was MY Birthday? Why are you on the computer on MY Birthday? What time am I going to Build-A-Bear on MY Birthday? Oh, mom, did I tell you it was MY birthday? A new pair of shoes would be a great thing for you to get me on MY Birthday." Hey ya'll, it's her birthday which to her means she gets anything she wants. Which also means today is like every other day at our house.

And can I just say three words which I have just heard that excite me to no end? Simply Vera Wang. Yes, honey, you heard me right. Vera Wang has designed a line of clothing for my Kohl's! I am drooling over these:

Are you sensing the Ruffle Theme I have going on?

Well, that's all I've got. I'm going to clean the house, pack, go over my notes, blow out some birthday candles, go to BuildABear, get the kids football uniforms and clothes laid out for the weekend, and collect my mother -of -the year award for leaving my family for the 2nd weekend in a row.

'I AM' Study Girls - I'm coming to comment on your study posts...I like to read and remark thoughtfully so I'll be doing that on Monday. I haven't forgotten you!! :)

One last thing!! I have a new blogging friend! Well, technically she was my IRL friend before, but now our relationship is complete. Her name is Brooke and her blog is The Mail Girl not to be mistaken with the Male Girl. Go see her and she'll explain. It would thrill her for ya'll to pop your head in and say Hi. She's got some good Deeper Still pics and an awesome Loser Mom story up right now...I'm still rolling, Brookish!

Have a fabulous weekend!!

Have I ever expressed to ya'll my deep, abiding love for my small town? There is nothing better in the world than going to the grocery store and running into friends. Better still is the gentleman who still carries my bags to the car. He collects tips to buy groceries for families in need. Seriously, have you ever felt like you were doing ministry by tipping the bagboy? Do you even have bagboys?

Ours is also a town which still shuts down for the Friday night football games. Even if you don't particularly like football or understand any of the ridiculous rules, well, that does not negate the fact that anybody who is any kind of patriot will be at the game whether your kid is on the team or not. If you want to take your love of community a bit further, you will also attend the Annual Community Picnic hosted by the Quarterback Club to encourage the players and get a free hamburger.

This year, to enhance the profitability of the Picnic, our illustrious Quarterback Club President and his entourage of equally cool dudes staged a Cow Plop. What is a Cow Plop you ask? Oh girl, if you have to ask the question you are going to love this.

Prior to the Cow Plop Event, tickets are sold for each labeled square on a grid which is marked out in a fenced enclosure. Then, an unsuspecting bovine is set loose on said grid to Plop. If the Cow Plops in your square, you win. $1000 to be exact. That is some profitable poop.

Now, I must tell you I got quite an education in the art of Cow Plopping. You see, it seems there is quite a bit of science involved in creating just the right kind of plop. A grass-fed, pasture cow apparently splatters just a little too much which I'm guessing would cause quite a problem in trying to determine a winner. So, instead, the cow must be penned up and fed oats to create consistency to the plop therefore resulting in one winner instead of say, oh, 14.

And here's the greatest. There are Cow Plop Rules. They are as follows:

1. You may not coax the cow to your spot.

2. If the plop is on a line, the largest portion of plop wins.

3. If the plop appears to be evenly distributed between two lines, unless you are willing to weigh the plop yourself, the winnings are halved.

4. If the cow has not plopped by the time the picnic is over, a name will be drawn out of a hat to determine the winner.


With that said, the cow, she was ill. I mean really, go lock yourself in a small room and eat granola all day and see what that does for your digestive tract. She was one fiesty gal when she was let out of the trailer but she soon settled down and the waiting began. This picture doesn't do justice to the number of people watching the event, but the aerial view seemed to be the most exciting.

Our girl didn't take long to determine the winner and thankfully, there wasn't any weighing and measuring involved. The excitement didn't end there, however, as the cow was not ready to go back into the trailer. I must tell you this was my favorite part because I got to witness first-hand some Mad Cowboy Skilz that I did not know existed in our pal, JL. Dude, you and that precious wife of yours getting that cow up made me want to go put on my cowgirl boots and rope the nearest wild beast. I have one word for you, my friends: YippeeKyAye.

And a good time was had by all....well, umm, except our girl, The Cow. I am personally hoping her hard work and newfound fame will save her from the slaughterhouse.

However, in cow country, it is only realistic to expect this year's plopper to be next year's free hamburgers.

When I can remember to check it, I get a kick out of looking at what Google searches resulted in people finding my blog..This is the most interesting one as of late:

"How to rescue wild rabbits who can not survive"

And they landed on this post:

"If We Can't Take Care of a Cabbage"

So my conclusion is this - Our inability to grow the biggest Cabbage Plant in Alabama was actually a ministry in disguise to impoverished and malnourished wild rabbits. We can now let go of the Cabbage knowing our sacrifice was not in vain.

Jack Hanna would be so proud.