I Need China -- Not like Mandarin...Like Southern

It is Lord-only-knows what time at night. My children are nestled all snug in their beds, with visions of moon pies dancing in their heads....cause who doesn't love a good moon pie? If you have your hand raised, I am pretending I do not see it. Cause it would shatter me.

Anyhoo, my spawn are asleep...IJ is out of town..so what productive thing do you think I am doing? Anyone? Anyone?

Laundry you say? Uhmmm Nope.

Meal planning? Ahhhh - Nah, not that either.

Drinking Cupcake? I think that is neither here nor there, thank you very much.

Watching Desperate Housewives of ATL? My My My. Well, now that you mention it...

Actually all of those things make WAY better sense than what I am doing. But I have been obsessed all day. Hours upon hours researching, googling, looking through Southern Living magazines (from up to 2 years past - thank GAWD my neighbor keeps them -- she is a good Southern woman and all)...potenialy neglecting my children and feeding them left over sushi....

Yes, I have been spending my day efficiently and effectively......

Looking for a China pattern.

I will stop there.

Let the wave of judgement wash over you...embrace it.....own it....now please let it go. Cause judgement causes crows feet.

AND... judgement is my kryptonite.

So is bean soup -- but again....I digress.

So I am picking out a china and silver pattern.

Why? Why?!? WHY?!?!

I stopped asking that question of me a long time ago. I just accept me for the unexplainable woman I am. But with good shoe sense.

I need a china pattern....and while the Lenox with bold or silver bands is beautiful...and classic...and what all the bride website say you SHOULD get. I am sorry. I just can't be Columbus Circle and Apropos.

I need a flair for the dramatic -- like Ridgeway Queen Anne. Or some pink farmhouse toile. Or maybe 8 different setting cause I think I will like AT LEAST eight. And Lord knows I cannot make up my mind to save my life.

So -- alas -- yet again...I come humbly to your browser. And I ask for your help.

Do you have any good southern china patterns that scream out "EAT FRIED CHICKEN FROM ME COUNTRY GIRL." Or maybe on sassy nights it might say "MY WHAT BIG HAIR YOU HAVE -- I LOVE IT DAW-LING"

I think I could be friends with a china pattern like that.

I would name her Millie or Caroline and we would drink tea together. Indeed.

Anyhoo -- for you more refined readers out there....any suggestions...china patterns that emerge in your dreams as the china pattern for me? That screams -- I love potato salad with mayonnaise and pickled okra? Hypothetically speakin and all.

Thanks in advance for your support of my crazy wild hair up my (you know what) tendencies.

Love,

CG

China Pattern Obsessor

Amen.

Wool Blankets and Boogy Boards For All

Every vacation leads to frivolous purchases. Something overcomes us all in which we think we will wear a mirror-jeweled wrap or marijuana necklace somewhere outside the confines of the resort. We all know our judgement is clouded by the fruity drinks and sun-soaked skin -- we cannot be held responsible.

I am certain everyone who has been to Mexico has one of those god-forsaken wool sante-fe blankets. And if you were feeling saucy (much like I often feel) - you got two, cause it was buy one get one half off and even south of the border we all KNOW that is a deal. No one is judgin.

But on this particular vaca my brain is a little wilted by the sun's rays and my judgement is in a cloud of Panama Jack -- and those Boogy Boards seemed like as good of an idea as a sea shell wind chime. But regret is a painful enemy. Soon the grand idea that these Boards might allow for a moment's piece and quiet for me to close my eyes and sip a fruity umbrella drink -- were squandered. Cause I heard "Maaaaaa? Come help me!"With that I rolled over, hiccuped and batted my eyelashes at Indiana Jones. It had no affect. So I pretended I was asleep and soon he was out in the ocean...being fatherly....while I lost my Mom of the Year award -- again.
And, as with everything IJ's athletic hands touch, it was a success.

And I heard giggles and squeals and fun for all.
Yeahhhh Daddy..... Yeah, Yeah, Yeah.....zzzzzzz.

All was good and glorious and the angels sang forth in praises....until....until....until....There was a near drowning. Then, it all went to hell in a hand basket. Here his cute yet persistent little self came. And he wanted momma. And he was using those eyes and those curls and he was not taking no for an answer.
Fine. Fine. Fine. But I am not getting my hair wet. Amen.

So off my awkward, can't-chew-gum-and-walk self went out into the ocean to most certainly endanger my child's life and alter the ecosystem with the likes of my massive Dr Pepper lipgloss application.But he asked for it. That is all I am sayin.Soon I heard IJ a hollering, "Honey? Honey? HOOOONNNNEEEYYYY?!??!?! YOU ARE DROWNING MT! HE IS UNDER THE BOARD." Ugh. Details Schmetails.
Mmmmkay -- the first forty eleven tries did not end up so well. Lord have mercy on our dear sweet salt water souls. But these spawn of mine are resilient, right?Hello? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

After many apologies and negotiations, we were determined to try one last time....

Soon we saw the "perfect" wave coming....And being the good and wholesome mother that I am, I threw myself into it with everything I had, sacrificing for my child.... hair and all.

And....Uhm WHAT?!?!?!?!?

I'm MELTING.....I'm MELTING! But my precious son was kinda like almost successfully surfing.

And I now have to go look for a good deal on a jeweled swimsuit wrap or wool blanket. Cause these vaca purchases are awesome!

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.

Without The Heart We Are All Hopeless

Okay -- there are two things I am just dying to get out. It is like a bad bean burrito all inside me and IT MUST COME OUT. So sorry -- but it is true. And you know it. And if you are all shocked and embarrassed then you do not have a Mexican monster within you that must be tamed on a weekly basis....sometimes daily....sometimes hourly. Hypothetically speaking of course. Amen.

Sorry, I digress. Like I said there are two things I must address right this instant or I may explode into a fine pink glitter powder and it would be a shame and all cause no one is around to witness it or get in on video for YouTube and all - cause we all know I was born for attention.

Item #1 Up for Bid:

1. Momma.

As you are aware I use the phrase quite often. Not only is it what my children call me, but it is what I call the woman who bore me and I write it forty eleven times a day.

Anyhoo, many of you have emailed and/or commented me that it is Mama. And I would first like to say - have I ever spelled or pronounced anything right in my born days? But I still appreciate your desire to refine me and make me where you could take me out in public. But I might be too far gone. Take "rural" for example. That's all. Thank you and good night.

I know you all have the sweetest spirits here and are trying to make me not look dumb. And I appreciate it. Really, I do. But it's more than you can handle. Also, this is really how we say it at our house. Mom ma. Seriously. I know. You are shaking your heads. I can feel it in my soul. But it is the honest to God's truth. I hide my face in shame. Rural.

Okay -- now I must move on. #2 is important. Not that #1 was not important. It was. Especially for all you grammar and English teachers out there. I know. And I love and embrace each of you. Muh wah!

But this one -- this one is gonna make me cry -- like Steel Magnolias -- when she falls outside and the spaghetti sauce is boiling over and the baby is crying and Sally Fields finds her. Oh my my my.

Or in My Life when Michael Keaton is videoing himself shaving as the lesson to his unborn son cause he is not going to live long enough to see his child born.

Or in Step Mom -- when Susan Sarandon realizes Julia Roberts is going to raise her children so she beings to teach and train her -- oh stick a fork in me honey child -- I AM DONE!

Anyhoo -- Sorry, I digress. My #2 important thing that I must share with you right this instant.

#2. If you know someone. Truly really really know someone - You love them. It is true.

I am not saying you like them.

I am not saying you agree with them.

I am not saying you understand them.

But You Love Them.

It's true.

You know when you are watching a movie and you hate the villain? Despise them? Can't relate or understand WHY? But then they flash back to show you where they have been and what they have endured? They show you them as a child -- an innocent sweet baby. They show you their hurts. Their point of view. You see life from -- well -- from their lens.

Suddenly, your heart grows soft -- and while you still don't condone what they have done, you somehow somewhere have found compassion. And understanding. And a spark of love.

Like Darth Vader. Remember when Vader is shown as his former self, Anakin Skywalker, a slave boy who eventually becomes a Jedi , and later, a hero . Then he falls to the dark side and I just want to snatch him up cause we all know he just needed a good Momma. It's true. After that. I loved him.

And who watches Desperate Housewives? Remember Eddie - the serial killer on Wisteria Lane? And his Momma was abusive and an alcoholic? Sure we don't condone his actions -- but I am sorry - I still love Eddie. He needed his Momma. He didn't have the same fair change in life.

Or Eldest Twerp's momma. You might judge and wonder how she could give ET up for adoption. But after you meet her -- and KNOW her -- you realize she is the most selfless and brave woman you will ever meet. Ever. Amen.

Anyhoo -- you like people in movies and on TV shows -- even when they are annoying or awful or evil. You like them and I would say even love them cause you SEE them. You see them behind the scenes. You see them on the weekends. You see them at home. You see their fears and the why. You see them and you understand them and you love them.

You see life through their lens. You put on the glasses of their life and you feel compassion. You understand...you love.

It's like those mommas or sisters who never give up on their sons and brothers. Cause they know where they have been. And we know they are not where they need to be -- but thank God they are not where they use to be.

Anyhoo -- I say all that to say this.

For me (and me only) - I stopped this week. I stopped and looked a little deeper into a few people's lives. A few people that I thought might be selfish and hateful. And I looked at them like some one's child. I saw their point of view. Their hurts. Their insecurities. Their fears.

I believed the best in them.

And suddenly, without me even realizing it, I understood. I still didn't agree with their actions. But I loved them and had compassion for them.

Cause through their lens -- their intentions were right. Their actions? Not so much. But I started judging them on their intentions not their actions -- which is what I hope everyone does for me too.

Anyhoo -- no real point here other than to say -- FOR ME, I forget the heart sometimes. And without the heart, we are all hopeless. I hope to SEE people for WHO they are, not WHAT they do.

That's all.

Now go hug your Mommas.

Amen.

I Am Putting Her In Pigtails

Good Morning my lovely world changers. Uhm, okay -- it is afternoon. Details Schmetails. Please don't judge my time telling abilities. I have ingested no Dr Pepper yet today. Thus, I am unaware of time. Thus, I think I am not aging. Thus, I am still wearing leg warmers. Thus, I shall forever be cool. Amen.

Anyhoo, sooooo several of you freaked out a smidgens cause I kinda bought a house while IJ was out of town. This is what he gets for leaving me with Power of Attorney over him. And three spawn. With only one bottle of Cupcake wine in the fridge. And Whole Foods stopped carrying it. And I fell on the floor and cried out "Father? Father? Why hast though forsaken me?" And the manager came over and had me escorted out. I know. They are so hateful. But I snuck out a Cupcake replacement bottle and instead of grapefruit it is infused with mango. I am more of a grapefruit. In case you were unaware.

Anyhoo -- okay. the house.

As you all are aware (cause you read and reread all 1, 010 entries of my blog on a daily basis and follow every Twitter I tweet - right? Hello? Uhm, tap tap. Anyone there?)

We were unaware if we would be getting orders to go to a far off strange land - like Texas - or not so we did not know if we could buy a house here in the Deep South or if we would be moving once again to a strange and barren land to inhabit. So we waited.

And while we waited, we got orders. To here. To stay. In a land that flows with grits and honey. So I rejoiced. And I was driving home one day and I saw this.... And I stopped cause someone was there. And I loved her. She called to me for a deep place of within. And I looked at her. Deeply looked at her. And saw all her blemished and age marks and imperfections. And I still loved her. For exactly who she was. But knew that a good exfoliation would do wonders.

Then I found out she was getting ready to go into foreclosure. And I could hear he cries for mercy and her pleas for someone to save her before they came a tore her away from everything she ever knew to be good and holy and just. And she wept.

I mean seriously! How could I not just pick her up and take her home with me? Her parents had abandoned her. Left her for the wolves. So I signed some paper work and went home.

And now I drive by her everyday and hang hummingbird feeders from trellises and plant daisies near her foundation. So she can feel as beautiful on the outside as I know she once was. Occasionally I might whisper sweet nothings in her screens. But this is a family blog and all so I will not go into the details.

Anyhoo -- we should find out in 10 business days if the bank who now owns her will take my offer. And if that big old bad bank says no -- I will faltulate in his general direction (name that movie).

Anyhoo -- I love her. I love her. I love her. And where she goes I'll follow. I'll follow. I'll follow. I will follow herrrrr... Follow her where she may go. There isn't an ocean too deep, a mountain so high it can keep -- keep me away. She is my destiny.

Anyhoo -- I am certain IJ will fall in love with her too when he sees her. I plan on putting her in pig tails the first time he meets her. Who can say no to a little girl in pigtails who has been abandoned?

Exactly.

I've Got Another Confession to Make

I think in song. I swear my life is one big musical and I am the only one in it. At least the only one IN on it. Cause inevitably when I break out into song during conversations, I always get the "OKAY" awkward walk away. It hurts.

So since I cannot be myself to anyone in my non-virtual world, I will be me with you -- cause you withhold all judgement and you love and embrace me for the Mary Poppins that dwells within. Amen.

If this post were an episode of Glee I would start off with a little Foo Fighter...

I've Got Another Confession to Make

and then I would ever so delicately move into Chris Isaak's

Baby did a bad bad thing, baby did a bad bad thing.
Baby did a bad bad thing, feel like crying, feel like crying.

Then right on the heels of that I would have to ask for David Gray's

Please forgive me if I act a little strange, for I know not what I do...

And then I would move into a dramatic cry like Puss n Boots on Shrek.

Cause I mighta kinda possibly sorta maybe have done a bad bad thang.

Let's start in the beginning, shall we?

Once upon a time in a far away land called the Deep South there lived a Country Girl. An awkward indecisive woman who was consumed with Cupcake wine and pink glitter. She had a flair for the dramatic - but absolutely positively no-doubt-about-it could not make a decision to save her dear sweet precious soul. Not even on the holiest of all Sundays - no siree Bob. She just couldn't do it.

So she relied of her Raider of the Lost Ark to sweep in and save her from the temple of doom - indecisiveness. Yes, Indiana Jones was her savior. He was her go-to-guy. The one who would sign on the dotted line and save her from the stress of the plunge.

However....

IJ was deployed to a far away land called Texas. And Country Girl was left to the solace and independence that only the Air Force could bring - so she shopped. She shopped to pass the time away. She couldn't decide on the red pumps or the jeweled heels. The bedazzled peasant shirt or the starched fitted blouse. She thought and she thought, but alas - no decision could be made.

Until one day -- she drove by a house. And it was for sale. And it cried out to her.

Country Girl saw so much hope in this home. So much potential. So much beauty that was hidden from the years on neglect and abuse. And right then and there, Country Girl fell in love. She feel in love with what this home COULD be. With what a little love and investment could make in this precious home's life.

So she bought it. Kinda like right then and there.

And she now kinda has to tell IJ. But she doesn't know how. Or if she should. She just can't decide.

Maybe she should write him. Or tell him on the phone. Maybe she can reach him by railway, maybe she can reach him by trailway

Maybe she can reach him on an airplane, or can reach him with her mind

She can reach him by caravan, cross the desert like an Arab man

She doesn't care how she tells him, just- tell him if you can!

And uh - yeah. She just doesn't know what to do. But she did it -- and now. Uhm, yeah. Maybe she possibly shoulda coulda woulda mighta wanted to think this through a little more.

Maybe, but she just doesn't know.

Gulp.

I Got A Pocket Got A Pocket Full of Sunshine

I always have the internal dilemma of whether I share too much on this silly ol blog or not. But I don't know how NOT to share. I don't know how to NOT be me. Believe me -- I've tried...but inevitably the same country girl who thinks everyone is her BFF rears her head up time and time again. My motto? I love EVERYBODY, so why doesn't everybody love me? I think it's best we leave that one unanswered.

One thing that is as consistent as the day is long -- us Southern Women are in love with avoidance. It is our saving grace. When sorrows like sea billows rolls -- we just apply an extra layer of lip gloss, pinch our cheeks and pretend life is all kittens and rainbows. Yes, avoidance is our secret lover indeed.

So are grits, sweet tea, and monogrammed towels - but that's another story for another therapy session. Hypothetically speaking and all.

Anyhoo -- if you might recall, about six months ago I had this nodule mass thingy found on my neck -- and while I was most certain it was a glitter pocket almost plump enough to shower forth upon all -- the doctors still wanted to check it out. Cause apparently, a bursting glitter pocket could put an eye out. So they biopsied it and someone in a very thick accent called me while I was in California and I could have sworn she said it was benign. Fine. Okay. All good. Amen. Let's celebrate with a glass of Cupcake wine, shall we? Okay -- TWO, but only if you insist.

Then, a couple weeks ago I fell deathly ill. Indiana Jones had left and would not be back until June (just a friendly reminder that if you are a 40 year old man reading this in your whitey tighties, I am a card carryin member of the NRA. Just sayin). And while I was in NYC I got a fever (not married in a fever, just clarifyin for Johnny Cash and all) and I was shivering and felt just lousy. I ached in my chest and my armpits. A strange combination, but my armpits have always felt neglected. So they cry out for attention occasionally. It's a cross I must bear.

Anyhoo, I called the doctor up and the doctor said, "YOU HAVE STREP THROAT and lo and behold your lymph nods are the size of fried up dumplins. We are fairly certain you have mono"

So I went home and slept for 3 days. When I awoke I was like WHAT DO YOU MEAN RONALD REAGAN IS NOT PRESIDENT -- and WHO ARE YOU? WHAT?! WHEN DID I HAVE CHILDREN?

Then I got up and applied lip gloss, curled my hair, and felt like I could conquer the world.

Until the follow up call came.

Uhm, we got your blood work back. Can you come in for more tests?

And off I went. And off they went to telling me this -- and only this, so help me God.

The mass in your neck is larger. And there are more. And you SHOULD have come back sooner since your last tests were inconclusive. Schedule another biopsy immediately.

Uhm, exsqueeze me -- a baking powder? INCONCLUSIVE? What you talkin about Willis?

Soooo -- I went back on Thursday and had another biopsy -- which is basically the equivalent to putting a straw in a Capri Sun.
And now I wait.

But here is what I do know -- cause I asked 3 main questions

1. Will I die? No. Worse case scenario they will take out my thyroid and some lymph nodes and then follow up with a radiation pill. But I WILL NOT die. So I am now taking bak my grandmother's ring from ET. And my neighbor needs to give me back my silver.


2. Will I lose my hair? (these are not in order of importance mind you) No. While it may thin a little (VERY LITTLE) I will not lose my hair. Thank you Lord Jesus.


3. Will I get fat? Only if I eat Krispie Kreme every morning for breakfast. At this point and time there was awkward silence. While I would be on medication for the rest of my life and scans will always be a part of my life, I should only gain the weight from the side effects of key lime pie -- the wench it is and all.
   

Best case scenario -- it is just a mass of tootie fruity and we will just have to keep an eye on her. So she doesn't burst forth in jubilee.

So that is where I am. I have the neck of Uncle Vito but the optimism the size of the Texas sky.

So -- if you ain't too busy over the next few days -- say a Hail Mary, or light a candle, or rub Buddah's belly, or give a shout out to the big JC (not Penney's) and when I do burst forth, I'll make sure some of that glitter is sent your way.

XXXOOO,

Country Girl

This Mess of a Woman

I woke up this morning to the sound of machine guns and billowing voices. I allowed one eye to slit open only to see an army hat blur by followed by a grenade to my face.

The battle was one. The war had been waged -- and I was the target for destruction.

But I am a lover, not a fighter. Please STOP FIGHTING! Please stop the struggle.

The struggle for peace, for balance, for approval, for air.

I feel this oozes over to my life. My body aches. My mind is weary. I have no patience. I want to pull the covers over my head and try to allow the decibel level of the screams not only of my spawn - but of my life - to be at a tolerable, manageable level. I don't wait to fight. I don't want to struggle anymore.

I need place where my soul can breathe.

A place that when the footprints of doubt are stamped across my body I can cleanse myself -- be naked...be exposed.....be vulnerable....be who you I am...and still feel sufficient.

I need that place. I need to sit. And be still. And know, that I am not enough. Put that His grace is sufficient for me.

I have too much on my plate -- and I am doing none of it well, but all of it half-way. There is only one of me - not four. And it would take four of me to do it all right now.

I need to get back. Back to those days when summer vacation lasted two and a half years. And when a sunny day and watermelon meant heaven. My love for life did not change as I have grown up, but other things have grown so large they have shoved that love in the corner.

And need I remind you -- Nobody puts Baby in a corner.

So she is coming back. And this mess of a woman will be all straightened up.

And pick glitter can once again be showered to all.

But not til after my mid morning nap.

Amen.

PS As I went to click the publish button, BT came in and said, "MOMMA! I can't believe you forgot. I am serious. You forgot to spoil me! When you gonna do that?"

And with that, I smiled.

The Dunk Tank

Since Indiana Jones was running a marathon this weekend, we decided to get a hotel downtown so he could be on the starting line at crack o'dawn thirty.

It also allowed for the spawn to swim and for me to pretend we were at the beach. If you closed your eyes and held sea shells up to your hears and asked IJ to fan a palm leave at your face -- it was prit near the real thang. (Hypothetically speaking of course)My only rule -- I didn't wanna get my hair wet. It's a girl thang.
Oh silly silly me. What was I thinking .....
Telling three unruly Twerps that -- I didn't want to get wet was the equivalent to tellin me not to buy new shoes - -the temptation was more than one could handle...

ET totally did that on purpose -- Punkette.

But I am a lover not a fighter..I accept and embrace all. Mistakes happen and I was ready to forgive and move on. Give me some hugs and press forward.Uhm, wait a minute!

WAIT! PUMP THE BREAKS!

Are you trying to dunk me?? Ahh, I think I'm going down, like James Brown. HOLD MY NOSE! HOLD MY NOSE!

Help me Baby Jesus. Save me Oprah Winfrey. Tom Cruise, use your witchcraft to protect me! I feel the power of the frizz upon me.

It was over. I had been immersed -- I just embraced it and moved forward.

But this one?

This one relished in his glory

He was talkin smack about the take down of his momma.And he threatened me with his ninja skillz....

That's all I needed to hear -- I was out for the night and askin "Do you all have Cupcake Wine? Cause it makes me careless about my lack of make-up, frizzy hair, and best part of it all -- it makes my skirt fly up." IJ where art thou???