OK. Go on and confess.
You tried to moonwalk back in the day.
I'm not embarrassed to admit that this white girl CANNOT moonwalk.
But I sure did try.
Remember the red leather jacket with all the zippers?
So very cheesy. Yet so very cool.
What a strange and odd pop culture week it has been. I'd like to take the high "morality road" and say I'm not aware of all that "stuff."
(But I am, and my lifetime subscription to People magazine would tell you that.)
You pretty much have to live under a rock these days to not know:
On Monday, "Jon & Kate" made their big divorce announcement.
On Tuesday, Ed McMahon died.
Then, Farrah Fawcett lost her health battle.
Then, the world lost a music icon.
I can't help but think of the impact these people have made on our culture... for a moment or for a lifetime.
And I wonder about their choices.
And the impact those choices made on their lives. And ours.
Are there more important things to think about than Michael Jackson and a TLC reality show?
Sure. We all know that.
There are children with no one to love them. There are people without jobs. There are people without food. There are wars being fought all over the world.
There are people that need our love and our prayers and our God.
But just for today... For whatever it's worth...
Farewell, Mr. McMahon... You seemed to be a classy guy.
Rest in peace, Ms. Fawcett... In my opinion, you were the prettiest of all Charlie's Angels.
Jon and Kate, I am sad for you and your family. I hope and pray you can repair your broken hearts and lives.
And good-bye, Michael Jackson... You were an interesting and undeniably talented individual. My teen years wouldn't have been the same without you.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Food Network Here We Come
I have a cute story about the boy. It happened just a few years ago. Have I told you before? Forgive my old-woman forgetfulness if I have.
We were at the park, and the kids were all playing in the sand. A small gang of them had decided to commandeer the bottom of the slide as their personal "kitchen." You know, making cakes and stuff out of wet sand and sticks. Then I hear a shout (a loud request) from my boy,
"Who wants to be my sous chef?!?"
I think perhaps we were watching a bit too much Iron Chef America back then.
He still loves to watch cooking shows with me, and he proclaims - like his mama - that Bobby Flay is his favorite.
From time to time, I can get him to cook with me. Not as much as when he was younger. Sad.
But, he will occasionally pop into the kitchen to "make something" for himself or whatever brave soul will eat it with him.
Side note:
One of the small challenges of a "deployment household" is eating. Well, not really the eating part... you can tell that by looking at my... well. Maybe I should say the challenge is cooking. Anyway, it's hard to find and fix a nutritious meal for two people. You just don't wanna put in the time and effort that it often requires. We eat out WAY too much, and salads get old fast. Toss in 100 degree weather and you get my issue.
Let the consumption of trash begin.
"What do you want for lunch today, son?"
"Mac and cheese and sushi."
"You got it."
And for you real foodies out there... that "sushi" came from the Commissary (Army grocery store). Classy.
Maybe Bobby Flay shouldn't be too concerned about his job.
We were at the park, and the kids were all playing in the sand. A small gang of them had decided to commandeer the bottom of the slide as their personal "kitchen." You know, making cakes and stuff out of wet sand and sticks. Then I hear a shout (a loud request) from my boy,
"Who wants to be my sous chef?!?"
I think perhaps we were watching a bit too much Iron Chef America back then.
He still loves to watch cooking shows with me, and he proclaims - like his mama - that Bobby Flay is his favorite.
From time to time, I can get him to cook with me. Not as much as when he was younger. Sad.
But, he will occasionally pop into the kitchen to "make something" for himself or whatever brave soul will eat it with him.
Side note:
One of the small challenges of a "deployment household" is eating. Well, not really the eating part... you can tell that by looking at my... well. Maybe I should say the challenge is cooking. Anyway, it's hard to find and fix a nutritious meal for two people. You just don't wanna put in the time and effort that it often requires. We eat out WAY too much, and salads get old fast. Toss in 100 degree weather and you get my issue.
Let the consumption of trash begin.
"What do you want for lunch today, son?"
"Mac and cheese and sushi."
"You got it."
And for you real foodies out there... that "sushi" came from the Commissary (Army grocery store). Classy.
Maybe Bobby Flay shouldn't be too concerned about his job.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
I Can't Stop Myself
From feeling guilty.
All the time.
About one thing or another.
Not the big stuff. I know I'm forgiven and loved.
No... I mean the little nagging things that creep into my brain at all hours of the day...
The thoughts that threaten to make me crazier than I already am.
"You are not doing enough."
"You are doing too much."
"You should volunteer more."
"You should pray more."
"You should give more money to those in need."
"You should write more and call more and visit more."
"You should do more for others."
"You should do more for yourself."
"You should get up at God-awful o'clock and work out."
"You should eat better."
"You are too busy."
"You aren't busy enough."
"You are too lazy."
"You should run a marathon."
"You should get a job."
"You should have a cuter yard."
"You should be more strict with that boy."
"You should be less worried about stuff."
"You should stop feeling guilty!"
Why do we do this to ourselves? Cause I have a funny feeling I'm not alone here.
Are women worse than men? Are moms the worst of all?
Ahh... guilt... it's a beautiful emotion.
All the time.
About one thing or another.
Not the big stuff. I know I'm forgiven and loved.
No... I mean the little nagging things that creep into my brain at all hours of the day...
The thoughts that threaten to make me crazier than I already am.
"You are not doing enough."
"You are doing too much."
"You should volunteer more."
"You should pray more."
"You should give more money to those in need."
"You should write more and call more and visit more."
"You should do more for others."
"You should do more for yourself."
"You should get up at God-awful o'clock and work out."
"You should eat better."
"You are too busy."
"You aren't busy enough."
"You are too lazy."
"You should run a marathon."
"You should get a job."
"You should have a cuter yard."
"You should be more strict with that boy."
"You should be less worried about stuff."
"You should stop feeling guilty!"
Why do we do this to ourselves? Cause I have a funny feeling I'm not alone here.
Are women worse than men? Are moms the worst of all?
Ahh... guilt... it's a beautiful emotion.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Just Funny...
... if you know me and my history of grace.
That's grace in the physical sense.
The other night, a few of my friends and I had dinner together. With the kids. Minus the husbands. There's were at a training. Mine is well... you know...
Anyway, I broke my sweet little friend's plate. I didn't mean to; I only dropped it a few inches to the table. But, unfortunately, it was just the right angle to break it.
I was so sad!
But, one of my other friends looked down under the table to see what shoes I had on! I had to laugh! She was checking to see if the flip flops had come out of hiding. HA! I was not wearing the death flops! (I did have on some cute shoes though.)
Apparently, the flops are not just dangerous to me.
They are a curse to all those who come near them!
That's grace in the physical sense.
The other night, a few of my friends and I had dinner together. With the kids. Minus the husbands. There's were at a training. Mine is well... you know...
Anyway, I broke my sweet little friend's plate. I didn't mean to; I only dropped it a few inches to the table. But, unfortunately, it was just the right angle to break it.
I was so sad!
But, one of my other friends looked down under the table to see what shoes I had on! I had to laugh! She was checking to see if the flip flops had come out of hiding. HA! I was not wearing the death flops! (I did have on some cute shoes though.)
Apparently, the flops are not just dangerous to me.
They are a curse to all those who come near them!
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
The School Year That Will Not Die
Most of our friends from other parts of the globe have already had:
a trip to the beach,
a week with Mickey Mouse,
17 days at the pool,
and 3 Vacation Bible Schools.
We, however, are still rising with the chickens, putting on real shoes, packing a lunch, and going to SCHOOL!
Thank the Lord... it ends this week.
I'm not sure I'm ready to be the sole form of entertainment for the boy.
But I am tired of the school-year routine. And I know he is.
In typical end-of-the-year fashion, the school had Awards Day last week.
Warning: Bragging momma approaching.
Here's the principal giving him the Stellar Reading Award.
(Sorry for the yucky pic... my camera hates being indoors and far away.)
That's for reading 1,115,042 words during the school year. (I want to know who counted.) That's 97 books and 403 RC points.
It may not mean a lot to some of you, but it meant the world to this boy... and his bragging momma. He ended the year reading on an 8th Grade level.
Here's the Gold Award for reading.
And the award for finishing 2nd in the school for RC Points.
You go baby!
He also received an award for "Outstanding Achievement" in PE.
When his daddy called to find out how it all went that day, he (the daddy) was ecstatic and very proud.
He said, "We all know he gets his reading ability from his momma. He gets those PE skills from me!"
Amen.
a trip to the beach,
a week with Mickey Mouse,
17 days at the pool,
and 3 Vacation Bible Schools.
We, however, are still rising with the chickens, putting on real shoes, packing a lunch, and going to SCHOOL!
Thank the Lord... it ends this week.
I'm not sure I'm ready to be the sole form of entertainment for the boy.
But I am tired of the school-year routine. And I know he is.
In typical end-of-the-year fashion, the school had Awards Day last week.
Warning: Bragging momma approaching.
Here's the principal giving him the Stellar Reading Award.
(Sorry for the yucky pic... my camera hates being indoors and far away.)
That's for reading 1,115,042 words during the school year. (I want to know who counted.) That's 97 books and 403 RC points.
It may not mean a lot to some of you, but it meant the world to this boy... and his bragging momma. He ended the year reading on an 8th Grade level.
Here's the Gold Award for reading.
And the award for finishing 2nd in the school for RC Points.
You go baby!
He also received an award for "Outstanding Achievement" in PE.
When his daddy called to find out how it all went that day, he (the daddy) was ecstatic and very proud.
He said, "We all know he gets his reading ability from his momma. He gets those PE skills from me!"
Amen.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
My Papa Would Be Proud
I've had my share of quality "Army Wife" moments here lately. Not "Army Wife" like the TV show... I don't know too many girls like those chics...
And not those BIG events either... like broken down cars and flat tires and over-flowing toilets... there's still plenty of time for those.
No, I mean moments when I realize that God intended there to be man in the house. To kill bugs and open jars. And wrestle with 10 year-old boys. And change washer washers.
When we moved (changed houses), my parents were here to help, thankfully. As my dad was re-connecting the washer and dryer, he mentioned that the little rubber ring thingys looked worn and may need to be replaced. Well, he was right.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I noticed a steady stream every time I ran the washer.
So, I took it upon myself to change those little thingys.
I turned off the water.
I loosened the hoses. (Thanks, Daddy, for not screwing them on too tight.)
I took out the old ones.
(Don't call me Wonder Woman just yet. I had to DIG those bad boys out with an old bent nail. I know you are impressed.)
I put in the new ones.
I re-connected the hoses.
I turned the water back on.
Bravo for me.
And here's where the gratitude comes in. Those handy dandy pliers? They belonged to my grandfather.
See his name etched into them?
He was a car mechanic by trade, and his tools obviously meant something to him. Either that, or he wanted to be able to prove it when some other dude stole them.
He was also a fireman. And an Army cavalryman.
And a great Papa.
He passed away when I was in high school, and I - somehow - ended up with these pliers. (I think my mom gave them to me in my trusty little "going-away-to-college toolkit.")
From him I also inherited my stubborn streak. Or at least that's who my mom blames.
I also inherited my love of the mountains and the beach.
And my love of Chick-Fil-A.
Thanks, Papa. I couldn't have done it without your pliers.
And not those BIG events either... like broken down cars and flat tires and over-flowing toilets... there's still plenty of time for those.
No, I mean moments when I realize that God intended there to be man in the house. To kill bugs and open jars. And wrestle with 10 year-old boys. And change washer washers.
When we moved (changed houses), my parents were here to help, thankfully. As my dad was re-connecting the washer and dryer, he mentioned that the little rubber ring thingys looked worn and may need to be replaced. Well, he was right.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
I noticed a steady stream every time I ran the washer.
So, I took it upon myself to change those little thingys.
I turned off the water.
I loosened the hoses. (Thanks, Daddy, for not screwing them on too tight.)
I took out the old ones.
(Don't call me Wonder Woman just yet. I had to DIG those bad boys out with an old bent nail. I know you are impressed.)
I put in the new ones.
I re-connected the hoses.
I turned the water back on.
Bravo for me.
And here's where the gratitude comes in. Those handy dandy pliers? They belonged to my grandfather.
See his name etched into them?
He was a car mechanic by trade, and his tools obviously meant something to him. Either that, or he wanted to be able to prove it when some other dude stole them.
He was also a fireman. And an Army cavalryman.
And a great Papa.
He passed away when I was in high school, and I - somehow - ended up with these pliers. (I think my mom gave them to me in my trusty little "going-away-to-college toolkit.")
From him I also inherited my stubborn streak. Or at least that's who my mom blames.
I also inherited my love of the mountains and the beach.
And my love of Chick-Fil-A.
Thanks, Papa. I couldn't have done it without your pliers.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Take Me Out to the Water Park
I am grateful to the smart folks who came up with the idea for this place!
Now without further ado... Our trip to the Great Wolf Lodge...
This place is HUGE. It has 4 or 5 big water slides, a wave pool, a kiddie area, a fun pool, an interactive "tower" with 2 more slides, a outdoor pool, and more stuff than I can possibly remember.
This one spent most of his time avoiding drowning in the wave pool...
The boy spent most of his time defying gravity on the slides...
There was a brief trip outside to the outdoor pool...
Here's my hero navigating the floating obstacle course...
Almost there...
Yippee!
And the good times continued in the room... PJ wrestling, anyone?
We ate lots of good food, we shopped in the gift shop, and we had happy tired children. And the best part? (Other than my little spill, of course.)
I didn't have to apply 1 single drop of sunscreen to my grumbly-sunscreen-hatin' child. Ahhhh... now that IS a good time!
Now without further ado... Our trip to the Great Wolf Lodge...
This place is HUGE. It has 4 or 5 big water slides, a wave pool, a kiddie area, a fun pool, an interactive "tower" with 2 more slides, a outdoor pool, and more stuff than I can possibly remember.
This one spent most of his time avoiding drowning in the wave pool...
The boy spent most of his time defying gravity on the slides...
There was a brief trip outside to the outdoor pool...
Here's my hero navigating the floating obstacle course...
Almost there...
Yippee!
And the good times continued in the room... PJ wrestling, anyone?
We ate lots of good food, we shopped in the gift shop, and we had happy tired children. And the best part? (Other than my little spill, of course.)
I didn't have to apply 1 single drop of sunscreen to my grumbly-sunscreen-hatin' child. Ahhhh... now that IS a good time!
Monday, June 1, 2009
Water-Logged
Took another break from unpacking this past weekend.
The boy and I were invited to go along with our buddies to the Great Wolf Lodge in Concord, NC. Wowza! Did we have fun!
But - alas - the camera batteries are dead. That means no uploading pictures until they charge.
I will post them as soon as I can, but I will leave you with the tiniest highlight of the trip... I fell.
Again.
Wearing the death flops, as I now lovingly call them.
It was awesome.
There will be no pictures of that, though. Everyone was too busy helping me up or laughing (thanks, son) to take a photo. Be grateful for small blessings.
The boy and I were invited to go along with our buddies to the Great Wolf Lodge in Concord, NC. Wowza! Did we have fun!
But - alas - the camera batteries are dead. That means no uploading pictures until they charge.
I will post them as soon as I can, but I will leave you with the tiniest highlight of the trip... I fell.
Again.
Wearing the death flops, as I now lovingly call them.
It was awesome.
There will be no pictures of that, though. Everyone was too busy helping me up or laughing (thanks, son) to take a photo. Be grateful for small blessings.
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