I Am A Portuguese Architect, In My Spare Time

I know. I know. I promised I would post. And then I didn't. And then you all emailed me and set me straight. Forgive me father, for I have sinned.

But I have an excuse. Kinda. If you are merciful and just. I didn't post yesterday because, I bought a house. Now I know what you are thinking GOOD LORD WOMAN, you have moved twice in the past 18 months -- what is up with you? I think we have proven I follow no rhyme or reason. I am an Anomaly. Which reminds me of hominy. Which I am not that. But I do love that. My grandma use to fry up some hominy. And my heart with sing forth in glorious praises as the lard soaked corn slid down my throat.

Sorry. I digress.

Anyhoo. I bought a house. And by "I" I mean "IJ" Cause we are painfully aware of the foster home that slipped through our hands and is a victim of the system now. Sitting. Alone. and Unwanted. Foreclosure doomed before it. It is a sad sad case. I weep.

But we bought a house. And now we are moving on September 27th. Although I might move on September 28th, cause round numbers do more for my skin tone.

And I KNEW you all would want mega details about where we are moving and you would want pics and stories. So I did what any God-fearin, Bible-totin, Good-hearted friend would do. I hired an architect off the coast of Portugal to sketch some prints of the house for you. So they would be drawn to scale and have the level of detail you need to fully grasp the idiosyncrasies of my new home. Plus I have a thing for Portuguese men. IJ knows. That's why I call him Antonio.

Anyhoo -- my new home needed some context behind it. So first I had our skilled architect from Portugal sketch a detailed pic of my current home -- so you can put into context how far away my new home is.

So behold, the award winning Portugal Architect's sketch of my OLD HOME:

I know. I was blown away as well. The skill. The detail. I am in awe.

Now to move on to bigger and better things. My new home.

My new home is a mere SIX houses away from my old home. Which means the following:

1. My spawn will not have to move schools
2. I will still have access to the neighborhood wine party.
3. I will still have access to the neighborhood pool parties
4. My spawn will still be able to spend their Saturdays roaming aimlessly through the familiar neighborhood begging for breakfast while their mother sleeps in or paints her toenails. Whichever is the most vital for national security that week.
5. Everything stays almost as close to the same as possible. Cause I don't think we want to have a repeat of 2 years ago when we moved and I almost lost my glitter. It was more than I could stand.

So alas, I bring you the NEW HOUSE:

I know. I know. So much detail. So little time.

This is all I have for now. But I will say this....a kitchen remodel is in my near future!!! Just think...cabinets, counters, islands, appliances, cute curtains with FRINGE!! I just squealed out loud.

So go forth today. And eat some hominy in celebration of my new home.

Love,
Your Friendly Neighborhood Portuguese Architect

My Birthday Weekend with My New, Sent-From-Heaven-Above, Dear Sweet Angel Friend and Melvin

I am sitting at the breakfast table this morning only a few miles from my favorite place on earth -- the place that makes my heart sing, my spirits lift and my soul rejoice. The ocean.

(Technically I am miles from the bay, not the ocean, the I think we are all painfully aware of how I feel about details, DETAILS SCHMETAILS). Basically, it's all Greek to me. And I am only fluent in English. And hick. And Mandarin Oranges. Or is it Chinese? Again, details schmetails. Anyhoo, since I have moved to this new house in a new city in a new state in a new time zone in a new world, I have been lonely. I miss all my bajillion friends and have prayed and fasted for a girlfriend who likes to drink wine from a box and tease her hair and paint her toenails and take road trips and take my the way I am. Faults and all. Dr Pepper obsessor and Cupcake Lover.

And lo and behold, just when I thought I was destined to be a monk and was ready to shave my head and move to the mountains of Tibet to lead a life of solitude, I found her ...or maybe she found me. Either way, I have always stunk and hide and seek. No one likes to hide. The joy is in finding. And when I found her my soul rejoiced to the angels in heaven.

But then, something happened. Something transpired. Something swooped in and altered the series of glorious events that were taking place. And this something will now make me never be the same again. Ever.

So we were out the other night sitting outside, drinking fruity drinks, talking about the meaning of life and lip gloss shades appropriate for people with peachy undertones, and that is when my life was altered forever.

My new dear sweet angel friend looked over at me, "I'm going to the beach next weekend to see Jimmy Buffett and Friends play a live concert on the beach. And I have an extra ticket, want to go?"

Why I do declare, pass me some grits and sing forth a southern gospel song cause this Country Girl just died and went to heaven. In the sweet by and by. We shall meet on those beautiful shore. Gulf Shores....Alabama...to be specific and all.

At that point and time I blacked out in pure and holy joy. The beach? The place God created for me to be at one with myself and complete my life??? And Jimmy Buffett? The singer who makes my thighs cry forth in glory and contentment?

Yeah, I was in love.

So right after work Friday we took a road trip. We traveled through torrential downpours, too close for comfort lightening and fierce winds. But neither hell nor high water could keep us away from our destiny. And from the morning until late night we were on the water. ON THE WATER. He seduced me with his calming waves and cooling touch. He whispered sweet nothings in my ear. He had me at hello.

But soon, I had to become at one with the locals. To dive right into the culture and experience all this sweet darling town and it's people had to offer. I had to eat...

The Crawfish.

Not because anyone MADE me because well, when in Rome you do as the Romans. And I love gladiator sandals so OBVIOUSLY then I HAD to eat crawfish. And I wanted to sing that song...

Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and file' gumbo
'Cause tonight I’m gonna see my ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o
Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun on the bayou

But technically it was the BAY, so no one got me. It is my cross to bear.

Anyhoo -- now you might be thinking, "OKAY, so what? She ate a crawfish." Oh yea of little faith. How silly you are to think that ANYTHING would be simple with Country Girl.

I soon learned eating a crawfish was a skilled art. I mainly learned this as I was picking the shell out of my teeth cause APPARENTLY you have to PEEL them, you can't just go and eat em.

Again, detials schmetails. There's a lot of technicalities down here on the Bay.

So my lesson began.

First I learned you should not become emotionally attached with the crawfish. Do not name them. For example, Melvin here was too cute to eat. Look at those beady eyes. And his high cheek bones. He is gonna be a heart breaker. A dream maker. A lover taker. I knew not to mess around with him.Uhm, what? They are already dead??? Seriously? The devil is soooo in the details here people.

So I put Melvin back in the bag and had a moment of silence for the life he lived and the joy he brought to every one's life he came into contact with. Oh, Melvin. Good times. Good times.

Then I proceeded to bring a nameless crawfish from the bag. I had no emotional attachment with Mr. No Name. He was not like Melvin at all.

So, I broke his head away from his tail as I was instructed to do. This took me awhile cause I felt so barbaric. So inhumane. So....so....like I was betraying Melvin and his people.

Then I sucked the "unknown material" from the head. I think it is best we just keep it there. I have no idea what that "unknown material" was, but it tasted like chicken.

Then I pulled the ever -so-tender meat from the tail. And I died and went to heaven. (PS I saw Melvin and he told me to eat and be merry. He was always such a giver.)

And I soon realized crawfish makes my thighs cry forth in glory.

And to my new sweet precious angel friend sent-from-heaven-above I will be eternally grateful.

For she has brought forth crawfish into my life. And my gullet thanks her.

Now on to the beach today for Buffett and the sharing of love to all.

Oh Come to the Church in the Wildwood

Thanks to all my precious darling friends who gave me advice on which church to go to. It is always good to know there are sweeties out there that will keep you from burning in hell - it's the southern hospitality and all.
Anyhoo, after much thought and consideration last Sunday morning cinched for us which church we shall call home. Even though I am certain all the churches in the area have been in prayer and fasting over us finding our home at ANOTHER church - we have just decided to nestle in to avoid the flames of hell lapping at our feet. MT was starting to get blisters and all.

Sorry, I digress. But on Father's Day the boys "surprise" us with a sweet and darlin song. And what I loved most about this was while everyone was dressed in their khaki nickers and seersucker sundresses and pastel polo shirts, my boys were wearing muscle shirts, holey jeans (for God and all), and baseball caps. And we were accepted. And loved. And embraced.

And that is all it took. The love us just the way we are.

So to celebrate, I grabbed a handful of glitter and began sprinkling it throughout the sanctuary. I think the elders could see the value it added.

Amen.