To Kill A Mockingbird...

I’ve never seen this movie classic, but if it truly is ABOUT how to kill one I might be checking it out soon. You might make note, that I am up today at 4:30 AM, (if I have set the time accurately for this blog) and all because a bachelor bird is singing outside my window. That’s what Wikipedia says, anyway. For the last couple of nights, Josh and I have gone to bed, and heard a song bird singing outside our window. “That’s weird” I said the first night. The second night, we just laugh when we hear it, but neither night did we hear it more than once or twice. Tonight, the silly thing has sung until I was forced to get up in search of ways to silence the crazy bird.

First, I grabbed the two flashlights from Jyllian’s room.
If this bird wants to put on a show, let’s see how he likes singing with a spotlight on him. I chuckle sinisterly to myself.
That should scare him away, right? I pad back to my room across the hallway floor, trying carefully not to wake the entire house in case others are able to sleep through the ear piercing shrills. Quietly I tug open the blinds and stand with my feet shoulder-width apart, a flashlight in both hands aimed into the night through my wide open window. I’m now also very aware that I’m standing in just a tank-top and underwear. I hope no one sees me like this. I click-ON the flashlights and point them toward the sounds.

“Ha-HA! TAKE THAT BIRDIE!!”

Yeah.
Nothing.

Not only do I not even SEE the bird. But the bird doesn’t even give a pause to what I’m doing. And… well… the flashlight batteries were almost dead. So the effect was less like the powerful ”Hotel opening for the first time, spotlights blazing” than I imagined.
They were more like…..um, dead battery flashlights, dimly lighting the way to the toilet at a campsite.
Kind of lights.
Not real scary to a singing bird at night.
Or anyone, for that matter.

My second remedy was to go outside and see if I can throw something at the bird. It’s warm, at least, outside and thank goodness it’s Sunday morning, because I’m not sure I could go to work with this much lack of sleep. How could I call in “sick” over this?

“Hi Mark…” cough, cough. “Yeah, it’s Kasey- look I don’t think I’m going to come in today. I gotta catch up on some sleep I lost over a bird. A bird! No… A BIRD!! Forget it, I’ll be there in a while.”

So out in the yard, armed with my weakly-lit flashlight, I pick up one of Chippy’s tennis balls and hurl it into the massive evergreen tree towering in the darkness.

BONK!– I hear, and like magic a bird goes flying out of it!

Oh my gosh, I cannot believe I hit that @#$in bird on the first shot! I am totally “The Bird Slayer”. I begin to turn around, but my excitement is short-lived as I hear it sing even louder as if now actually LAUGHING at my feeble attempt. It picks up fervor in his song, and I swear louder than it was before. I pick up another few balls and assault the tree blindly (my flashlight has gone out), only with no effect. It seems I am just chasing the bird around inside the tree at best, but he never misses a beat and carries on singing with perfect time. I give up and return inside, now contemplating if I should blog since I’m up.

If you google “Bird that Sings at Night”, the phrase will actually pre-populate before you get to the word “at”. Apparently this is a problem for a lot of people. The websites I came across identified the bird as a Mockingbird, male, and singing because he is trying to attract a mate.

Great….I bet that first bird that I chased away, was this guy’s only chance at love.
Since I can still hear him singing….at now 5:10 AM.

Facebook Killed the Blogstar.

Its been a long while since I've blogged, or visited my friends' blogs too. But recently returned to catch up. Much to my surprise, many others have not blogged in a long while either. My friend Kristy, thinks that Facebook is to blame for her absence. Could be. Have we become so busy in life, that all we have time to write, or read from others is the micro-thoughts that wiz through Facebook and Twitter?
Say it isn't so!

Men Don’t Speak Good

First, let me say that I love my husband and I don’t wish to de-value him at all as the leader of our house. At the things he is suppose to do, he does an excellent job- doing them the way God asks him to. Of course, there are some things that he probably needs help with, but I probably couldn’t accurately tell you what those things are b/c they would be skewed by ‘my idea’ of how he should lead. Which I am learning...is not necessarily the right way, it’s just MY way. (it's still hard to admit this)

But for amusement sake, I just want to point out how funny it is that men and women communicate so differently. I laughed at this article written by a man, who himself realizes this already. God made us different….so of course we communicate differently. (It’s still funny—if not incredibly frustrating!)

Recently, I was unpacking a left over moving box and came across a picture that Josh bought me when we were still dating in highschool. Now granted, he’s come a long way since boyhood— and I hope that he’s learned a thing or two about romance and me since then. (I hope) But this picture is made entirely of wooden veneer cut outs that create a picture of a rose. It’s sort of like all wooden puzzle pieces of different colored woods, darker red, and lighter pink…all together make a rose.

Now, I understand that when Josh bought this, he thought it was cool, and he thought of me (A GOOD thing! Thinking of me, yes.)
But then, he ruined the romatic part of the gift...when he imortalized this sentiment on the back of the picture by adding this inscription…

“Dear Kase…I bought this rose so I would never have to buy you another rose again. (Or at least, not as many) Love you always, Josh”

Oh swoon... just what every girlfriend wants- a hard picture of a non-smelling rose, that replaces all future need for sentiment of any kind.

How practical that man of mine is in the love department.

Love you Josh!

Kasey's Wisdom

Cupcakes are nothing more than a vehicle which allows you to avoid the embarrasment of eating frosting with a spoon.
More spoon-licking recipes.

Office Musings from a Part Time Mom

If you work in a corporate office setting, you may get a chuckle out of my recent thoughts.

How many times are you obligated to say “Bless You” to the pod mate, who sneezes every 5 minutes all day?

It's hard to yell at your kids on the phone, when your single co-worker is looking at you across the wall.

Some people make their office areas look so cute! One lady even has a wooden cookbook holder, to hold her office memos.
Mine is decorated with a few family photos stuck with thumbtacks to the wall, 5 half empty containers of water/coffee/tea, a
a squishy stress ball in the shape of the world that was free at last month’s earth day, approximately 24 post-it notes with forgotten
reminders, and a few old Christmas ornaments that I got as gifts from coworkers last year. I’m thinking of hiring a interior-pod-decorator.

When you encounter someone in the bathroom that you work with…should you say
“Hey, how’s it going?” as if you’ve not sat right next to them for the last 3 hours of work?

A quote from Jerry Maguire, his dad said after he retired:
“…I wish they had given me a more comfortable chair.”
Which I concure with. The supposedly ergonomic ones I have hurts my butt. But no one is sympathetic for workman's comp because of your butt. (especially because, I know...mine looks like it has enough padding to warrant me the ability to sit on a hard metal stool without pain.)
I’ve considered bringing my exercise ball to work to sit on, but I’m not sure how I feel about having to chase it down the hall when the first funny guy kicks it.

How much conversation about the weather is required on an elevator ride between just two floors?

If I’m wearing headphones it means I don’t want to talk to you right now. Stop throwing paperclips at me to get my attention.

Just like in elementary school-if you didn’t bring enough cupcakes to share with everyone, don’t bring them at all.
However, if I am eating a cupcake….please don’t ask me where I got it. It’s embarrassing enough to devour this in front of you, let alone
tell you that you didn’t make the list of “Who to share my goodies with” from Norma down the hall.

Email is a very poor way to communicate.
But it sure beats complaining to someone’s face.

ALT+Tab = The fastest way to change your screen from your blog, to your sales report.

Products You Never Knew Existed

The Pee Pee TeePee - Because Baby Showers are not always fun.
(and for those more fashionable moms, they come in blue with little airplanes as well.)

Elephant Poo paper roses: Nothing says “I love you more, than pachyderm poop” Getting these roses from your husband would be worse than finding out your diamond ring is made from glass.

Recycled Windshield Wine Glasses - Should you come across any, please ignore the embedded bug fragments.

Handblown Glass Bat Fan Pull – For your bat cave.
But if you had an actual bat cave, you probably wouldn’t need a handblown bat fan pull.

Paper Bag Vase – To hold your poo poo flowers

For the bargain price of $22.00, you too can say- “Huh!?”

.

Google Says - God's Still Winning

This was the pre-populated response that came up when I started to type in "Dedicating Your Child in the Church"
In case you can't quite read it...there are over 6 million sites for God. And only 257,000 for Satan. (which, while is comforting to see the spread...is quite disturbing there are any at all!)

Mexicalli Chicken

A friend of mine sent a humorous email regarding a customer at a burrito shop, who felt descriminated against because the portion of rice recieved, was way smaller than the person before them and after him. I related to the story with the following experience myself.

The other day at my office cafeteria, I eyed the most delicious looking chicken breast with the mounds of cheese sauce and perfectly topped mexi-cali (whatever that is). My mouth began watering and I said “I’ll have the Mexicalli Chicken!” to the paper hat guy behind the counter. Mmmm, it smelled so good I could hardly wait to cut into that delicious chicken….

Imagine my disdain and complete mental state of turmoil when, instead of dishing up that perfect specimen of chicken, the hurried paper hat dude reached to the back of the metal chaffing dish to a corner that wasn’t even visible behind the plexi-glass sneeze protector, pulling out a wimpy half breast of chicken with slight smear of sauce and mexicalli not even laying on top of it anymore!!!!

In my mind a whirl of thoughts began to scream outloud…Is that even a FULL PORTION of Mexicalli Chicken? Surely it's not, in fact I'm quite certain that it's what fell OFF of the other portions of Mexicalli Chicken. Why am I getting that ONE?!!! Is this a form of bait and switch?? And is it too late to point to the more prominent chicken and say “can I have that one instead?”

Moments later, still in shock, I recoil as the person behind me points to My Precious, and says “Can I have THIS chicken?”

UGH! Why didn't I say that? And is it possible to somehow grab his box of food and run? Foiled again by corporate food servers.

Now I don’t even want stupid mexicalli–retarded-halfeaten-no sauce- chicken. And I debate throwing the box back at the paperhat-hair guy.
But I didnt, of course, I just ate my dumb wee chickenette.

Sometimes, it's good to be specific on what you want, or else you might get a wanna-be Mexicalli Chicken.

I want to stop, I just can't

I continue to make the same mistake over and over again. You'd think I'd learn by now, right?
For some reason, I'm a sucker for cheap shoes....that are not my size.

(you thought I was going to say something deeper, like the fact that though I want to stop sinning, I continue to sin, like Paul spoke about. I do have that problem too, of course.)

I am not a shoe shopper. I buy one pair of shoes in each category, (tennis, black dressy, brown dressy, garden, boots, summer dressy) and wear them completely out before I get another pair. I like shoes, I would love to have more of them, they just have not been made a priority in my life. But here's the thing...three of the shoes listed above, are not my size- they're too big. My dressy brown shoes are so cute, but I have to stuff tissue in the bottom of them, to take up space. My black dressy shoes are cute too, again, too big and they flop off my heel every time I walk. They were the last of the sizes left when I bought them, but who can pass up cute shoes for less than $10 when I'm staring at my own size for $44.95. (That's almost two weeks worth of lunches for me!)

So again this week, while at Target I fell in love with the cutest pair of grey pumps for $8.24! I have actually been looking for grey pumps, since I recently purchased grey pants and was having to wear my dressy black shoes with them. I was even willing, in this case, to pay more than $10, so when I saw these at such a steal, I whipped them off the shelf to check the size. 7.5. I tried them on (with my poofy athletic socks on) and of course they fit (with my socks on- so dumb!)

Proud of my purchase, I went home to look for my grey pants in the dirty clothes, to make sure they got washed - just so I could wear my new shoes to work on Monday morning.

Monday morning, I put the shoes on, and could barely make it across the bedroom without them falling off. "Surely I can stuff something into them, to make them fit!" I remembered a pair of gel inserts in an old pair of running shoes (my only pair, mind you). I pulled them out and stuffed them into the pumps. PERFECT! I thought and headed out the door.
When I got to work, 5 steps away from my car...I started to walk like a man wearing stilleto heels for the first time. I felt like such a doof halfway between the car and the door to my office. I stopped on the sidewalk mid-clomp. People began to pass me, probably wondering what I was doing. I fumbled in my purse, pretending to have forgotten something.
Who would ever notice how cute my shoes were, they'd never get past laughing at my awkward gait. Ugh! I groaned and headed slowly, big clomping step after another as I tried to step toe down first each step. It's hard to explain exactly how it feels to walk in pumps that are too big. It's a delicate balance between not flinging it completely off your foot with each step, and not being able to step heel down either. It requires way more thought to walking, than I like to give.

Finally I managed to get upstairs and sat the whole day at my desk, also pained by the fact that the heel on my right foot was bleeding from rubbing on the back of the shoe.

STUPID CHEAP, CUTE, TOO BIG SHOES!!

By 5:00, I took off my shoes and walked to the car barefoot, in 30 degree weather. (uphill. ;o)
I looked just as much like a weirdo, I'm sure, and my feet were FREEZING when I got there...but at least I didn't hit any passers-by with a my stray shoe.

Today, I'm wearing a pair of shoes that fit the best. My pink Crocs.

Observant Little Eyes

A few weeks ago, while driving to the store, my daughter gave me some good advice.

"We shouldn't hold a Sharpie marker up to our nose and sniff it for a long time, b/c we might die."

Good advice, I told her. I'll keep that in mind.

When we got to the store, among other things, I picked out a bottle of wine, and my little thinker provided some more free advice.

"Mom, drugs are bad."
"Yep, they are." I said.
"Mom, alcohol is a drug."

I could see where this was going.
"mmmhmmm" I murmered

"Mom, isn't wine...alcohol?"

I couldn't come up with a great response, other than "Did you know that caffeine is also a drug, and soda has caffeine in it too" This response seemed to hush her up.

But I then followed up with "in the hands of a responsible adult, alcohol is okay to drink in small amounts-but not until you're older, much older...like 40".
Which still was not great, but it was a good reminder that my kids see everything I do.

And to come up with better answers, when they ask.

Husbands

Several nights ago I came to bed with something on my mind, as usual. I got in next to Josh and let out a “sigh”.

“What?” He said.
“Nothing” I replied.

*pause*

“Well, it’s just that- I wish you were more like….No, I wish you could. Well let me put it this way. Victoria’s husband put in an island in their kitchen, and cut the cabinets to fit the new oven. Lindsay’s husband builds BBQ grills out of scrap metal. DJ’s husband has a boat that he works on and plans family vacations around.

But….I can’t even get you to fix the wobbly dishwasher, I just- wish you were, um, handy.”

His reply was genius, and I think, will mark a huge turning point in how I view my husband.

“Does Victoria’s husband do laundry? Does Lindsay’s husband clean all the dishes on the weekend?”
“um, no, in fact Lindsay was just complaining that her husband never did the dishes- ever- b/c his mom didn’t make him do it as a kid”
“Well there you have it. I DO dishes, I DO laundry(which is true, he’s just spent the entire day washing/folding/putting away about 10 loads)….and I take the trash out too. I'm that kind of husband- but I'm sorry Kase. I'm not handy.” and with that he rolled over and went to sleep.

I continued thinking to myself though.

Actually, I’d RATHER be handy…than do dishes or laundry. I’m not sure if there are other women out there like me who would too, but do any of them actually have what I have? -a husband that would rather do laundry and dishes?? I started to think the situation out differently. Rather than complaining about what Josh didn't do, maybe I should start being happy about what he DOES actually do! Did I just uncover a treasure in the attic worth millions, a house-husband?!

And, I can totally be handy myself, I thought, I know how to change tires, and repair gate latches. Heck, I make Halloween costumes out of scratch…surely I can come up with the answer to that wobbly dishwasher.

The next day I took it upon myself to visit "The Man Store" (Home Depot) In one afternoon I painted our bathroom, repaired all the baseboards, and fixed the lighting. However, I must admit, I need help cutting the boards- I can’t use a powersaw…I’m too afraid. So my husband did that for me. And, I didn't know how to cut the wires to the lighting, my brother did that.

Thank goodness I do have men around me that WILL be handy if I need them to be.

Josh also fixed the wobbly dishwasher at my continued urging. I knew he was handy, he just needed encouragement (ie nagging).

But that’s what men do …they pretend to do something really bad- when they don’t want to ever do it again. (see my story on Bologna Casserole Anyone)

Do you think it’s too late for me to start burning dinners- claiming “I can’t cook”?

For Sale, Make Offer

My husband drives, what I would classify as the biggest eyesore known to the HOA.

The HOA is the Home Owner's Association that governs what we can or cannot do with our house being that it's part of a nice neighborhood. For example, we cannot leave our garbage can out on the curb longer than 13 minutes after we get home from work on trash day. My daughters cannot make chalk drawings on the sidewalk, as these are apparently offensive to passers-by who are interested in....I dunno- sidewalk cleanlieness. And there are other useless rules that are governed by this particularly annoying association who have nothing better to do than snoop through your backyard, complaining of unmowed grass or dead Christmas trees that still have not yet been brought out to the curb by February! (FOR CRYING OUT LOUD....it's not hurting anyone!!)

But, in this one area- we do agree, my husband's truck is just plain unsightly. However, they have not come up with any rule yet on why we have to get rid of it. (sigh)

It wouldn't be such a problem if I could just let him keep what is his and I keep what is mine. But sometimes there is a need for me to drive his horrible beast while giving up my precious mom mobile to him. I hate this for two reasons. One- he "yuckies up" my car with the smell of cigarette smoke and empty bottles of Dr. Pepper that roll around just out of reach of your hand while driving. Do you have any idea how annoying it is to be reaching around on the floor for an empty bottle, while trying to put on makeup?! It's almost impossible!!
And TWO- I have to drive his scary truck that has no inside paneling on the doors, the aforementioned Dr. Pepper bottles, no radio and to start the thing, one must reach down and grab a handful of wires under the steering column, then turn the ignition (this is scary for me, reminiscent of when you play the game Operation and someone next to you yells ZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTT!). Not to mention that it's just embarrassing to be SEEN in it.

Case in point...

Yesterday I took Jada to school in the truck. Josh was almost out of gas, so to "save money" he requested that I drive the shorter distance in it.
As Jada and I sat in the monster truck I realized I'd left my glasses inside and I ran back in to get them while she waited in the running truck. When I came back out, she had hunched down in the seat.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
She told me that a classmate rode by on her bike, saw Jada in the passenger side of the truck and with a worried look on her face glanced at the truck, then at the house, and back at the truck. She then edged a little closer, looked at Jada through the smeary non-working windows and finally mouthed the words "ARE YOU O-K?"

Apparently, seeing a child sitting in a big ugly truck such as this...meant a kidnapper had gotten ahold of her. Jada was mortified.

I was just happy that she knew kids nice enough to care for her safety.

When I Was a Kid

I am the only biological child between my dad and my mom, however both my dad and mom have remarried and had half children (well, not half children, that would be weird) what I mean is they've had children who are half siblings to me.Aaron, my brother on my mom's side has recently come to live with us. He's a great kid, funny and incredibly gifted in conversation.

I was 16 when Aaron was born, and because I was pretty young when my daughter was born, he's only 3 years older than her. Yet even so, he's convinced that he and I are from the same generation. I thought I'd just spend a little time on nostalgia lane with you, on why he and I are not from the same generation.

1. I did not have the internet or cell phones when I was in highschool. If I wanted to be really sneaky about talking to a boy late at night, I would have to run around and turn off all the phone ringers in our house and wait until my "swatch watch" phone lit up to see a caller calling. Swatch watch phones were so cool because it had two handsets to speak into...thus you could talk WITH your friend on the same line to the same person, instead of sharing the same receiver. This made prank calling much easier. (we also did not have caller id, until I was in highschool)

2. There were no "Cartoons all day" channels on TV when I was a kid, except for Nickelodeon which ran Pinwheel for about 16 hours a day, which was sort of okay to watch if you were into puppets. The real treat happened during the holidays, when you got to watch Charlie Brown cartoons at night!! And if you wanted to change the channel, you would need to use the kind that had a limited distance cord and punch buttons that looked like blender controls. You could stretch it all the way across the floor to the couch most of the time, but the cord would always get tangled, and it looked really unslightly all wadded up on the coffee table. And while it was stretched out, people would trip on it and it would go flying, and hit your mom's crystal vase and break it and you would yell "STUPID!" to your little brother for not watching where he was going!!

(Speaking of remote controls, I remember the first time we got one for our VCR. We had wood floors and my mom was so concerned that it was going to break if it got dropped, that she actually took a VCR tape box, stuffed with styrofoam, then cut an opening in it for the channel changer to fit into. No kidding, ask her.)

3. TV shows consisted primarly of funny shows about families. Fictitious shows about fictitous families who did funny things. The Cosby's, ThirtySomething, Life Goes On, Family Ties, Cheers, Alf, Roseanne, Who's the Boss....

Now TV is all reality shows and gameshows. It's hard to find a family program that's about anything but that...

Aaron typically scoffs at these suggestions, but it's true- hard to believe that I can remember getting my first CD, VCR, and microwave. I remember video stores before Blockbuster, I can remember when water was not sold in vending machines. I, myself, owned a black and white little tv with one antenae in my room, and I remember having a phone with a really long cord that you could skip rope with, while someone else was talking.

So while we share similar tastes in some music, my dear brother Aaron....we are not, sadly from the same generation. ;o)

Do Fun.

I like, no…I love to laugh. Big belly laughs that eventually bring tears to my eyes. It’s kind of an addiction in fact. If I find a comedian that really makes me laugh, I’ll stop at nothing to see everything he/she has ever said. In college I use to rent videos of a certain comedian that was always so funny. One of his random jokes was “You ever notice that mice have no shoulders? You put a necklace on a mouse, it slides right down to his waist and he thinks it’s a belt. What does he care, he’s a mouse!”

But I’m older now and so is this comedian who is way too political to be funny not to mention that I’m more sensitive to the numerous F-bombs he uses too. But still, I am always on the hunt for people who can make me laugh out loud like he once did.

My daughter shares the same sense of humor and appreciation of a good laugh too. It’s comforting to have someone else that laughs hard enough to make you choke, when you are around people who are just snicker-ers. Recently we discovered a Christian comedian, Tim Hawkins and was offered the chance to see him live. What a treat. He is so funny, and clean! His humor ranges from over the top loud and crazy to genius song writer (b/c he makes up- new words to well known songs. My favorite is Hey There Delilah – a song about Samson’s wife. Check it out on GodTube.com) We purchased a video by him and our family has seen it so often that we use his punch lines as our own.

Jada and I are so desperate for a laugh, that one day we invented our own brand of fun. A nice little game we like to call Kid Tap© (yes, that’s a copyright logo…b/c I think after writing about this game, that it might take off, like Duck-Duck-Goose, or the Telephone game. No one knows who invented those games.)

Kid Tap© is a game born out of a cheap day at the mall with my girls. I was looking for an indoor activity to do one Saturday, and since the girls had not seen the Galleria Mall, took them there to do some window shopping. We stopped in the weird “foreign” stores to see fountains spewing dry ice smoke, curly bamboo stuffed into odd shaped pots, and little statues of fat men. We also pointed out funny skaters on the ice rink below, and spent a few frantic minutes in the American Girl store oogling all the miniature items for dolls that will never use them. All in all, it was a fun day- for free!

On the way back to the car, we passed the kid area where several hundred sock-footed kids were clinging to huge shiny plastic replicas of jungle caves, trees and animals. I heard Jada groan, as I said yes to Jyllian’s plea to play, while she pulled off both shoes and bounded across the foamy floor into the mix of kids. Jada and I took a spot on the squishy long bench that encircles the toy area. At first we just watched the kids, and laughed at several who were climbing up a large palm tree in the center. We then began to take bets on who would reach the top. This then turned into bets of other random happenings.

“I got $50 bucks that little round head boy in red will get knocked over and cry within 2 minutes.” (hey...DON’T JUDGE ME! I didn't knock him over. But he did cry. )

And after several kids ran by knocking into our knees and stepping on our feet- Born was the great idea that became a fun game for all:

“Hey, let’s see how many kids you can tap, running by. For every kid you ‘tap’ you get a point. Ready- Go!”

And then every kid that ran by, we took delight in sticking out our foot to "tap" them as they breezed by, running full speed. The game is challenging- b/c #1 you can’t actually TRIP the kid…that’s just mean and not our goal (besides, parents don’t like to see other adults doing that to their kids.) #2. It’s weird to see another adult trying to “tap” your kid. So it has to be a sneaky game. And #3 kids are a little surprised by it too, but that's what makes it funny.

At one point the score was 4 -2, Jada winning when a small kid who had probably stepped on my foot 3-4 times already…stood right in front of me. I got so excited at scoring…that I tapped him a little too hard with my foot…and he turned around and looked at me with a face that made us bury our faces in our hands and howl with laughter- tears streaming down both our cheeks. At this a few others started to notice. But no one said anything….so we continued to add rules.

5 points if you tap an adult, 4 points if you tap a child on the head, no one can tap the same kid more than twice.

Finally, Jyllian tired of the play area- and we were ready to leave. She noticed that Jada and I seemed to be having way too much fun, and asked what in the world were we doing. I casually explained the game to her, through snorts and laughs while I put her shoes back on her feet. Then we stood up and Jada said “okay, tie breaker on the way out.”

Jyllian quickly stood up and ran around tapping all the kids heads in the area on the way to the door, which no one paid any attention to, b/c she was just another wild kid like the rest of them. Cheater.

When we were on our way to the car, Jada grabbed my arm and said "Oh my gosh mom, that was the most fun I've had in a long time! I can't wait to tell my friends, we are so funny! I'm glad we came here today!"

Some might raise an eyebrow and suggest "that I contemplate what I am teaching my own children by inventing such games that exploit the slightly non-PC treatment of other young children." And to that I would say,

"Ah Lighten up! You're no fun!"

Celebrating Freedom, Again.

Again this year, the girls and I attempted the Celebrate Freedom concert.
So far, our track record is not good with the concert. Let me recap for you;
Year #1- Jada and I collapsed in heat exhaustion together on the way to the medical tent.
Two ladies let us stop under their vendor awning to stand in front of their coveted AC unit.

Year #2- The mud year. Please reference the quite humorous story on my blog here.

So this year it was going to be different. This year they changed venues, from SouthFork Ranch to Pizza Hut park in Frisco. It sounded like it could be better. Convenient parking, indoor restrooms, no mud.
Yet when we got there, I could see it was not going to be as nicey-nicey as I had imagined. Texas is just NOT a place to hold outdoor all day concerts. Spending time outdoors in the summer between 11-5pm is like risking your life in the Mohave Desert.
People were dropping like flies all over. The trade offs for the above benefits, were compromised by the below negatives:
No outdoor drinks of any kind (ie water) could be brought in at all, and PizzaHut park charged $3 a bottle. Talk about capitalizing on the poor- by 2:00 the girls and I had spent $60 and had 5 more hours without water to go.
Instead of sitting in the grass, we sat on interlocking white plastic Legos which covered the grass. It was weird and not relaxing, I like sitting in the grass. I hate baking on a plastic Lego.
You couldn't see the screens b/c they were not very big, and there was tons of stuff in the way. So basically it was like listening to a loud radio.
Once again, I brought the pop-up shade..(you HAVE to! I cannot imagine sitting in a reflecting bowl with no cover at all.) But the only way to get to the field is down the steep inclined steps. Which I’ll admit is tough enough. The entire handle ripped off the shade when I brought it in. It took me almost 45 minutes to get the 100lb. thing in. But I did not even consider what it would take to haul that shade back out at 2:00 in the afternoon “Death Sun”. To haul a 100lb shade, up the enormous incline of steps, behind 50 people, with no handle at 100 degrees…took an hour. I had stop about every 20 steps just to catch my breath.
Parking was $15.

I love the radio station that does this concert, and I love the concert itself. There’s just something about singing/worshipping alongside other Christians that you’ve never met before that bring such an incredible experience, and it’s what brings me back every year to try it again.
Next year though, I wish they would consider moving it to an inside venue. Or having 4th of July in November.

Revolve and Barter.

I think my daughter and I are going to attend this, this weekend.
The 2007 Revolve Tour
Check it out if you have a teen/tween girl!


I find it really cool, that they have opportunities to earn the cost of your ticket as a volunteer!
Move boxes one afternoon- get free tickets to attend. Very cool!

I wish more places could put this bartering-type payment into practice.

Dust all the shelves in the grocery store one morning- get half your grocery bill for free.
Wash 5-6 coffee pots out - get your morning Starbucks for free.
Pick up all the trash around the gas station bathroom- get your gas for free??

Hmmm...maybe not every place should adopt the practice.
Some things I think I would rather just pay cash for.

Guilty, Your Honor.

I have a secret. Yes, yes....I was at one time-A chronic TV watcher.
I came from a generation of TV baby-sat kids! I can't help it!
There are shows that I never miss; Heroes, Lost, Grey's Anatomy, Survivor, Prison Break, Top Chef, Good Eats (I love Alton!).
There are syndicated shows that I will always watch reruns of: Friends, King of Queens, Seinfeld.
And there are shows that I love to watch if Im available: Dog Whisperer, Planet Earth, Medical Mysteries.
And then...there are the shows that Im totally addicted to, but somewhat embarrassed to say I watch. Two that come to my mind are America's Next Top Model and Beauty and the Geek.
Neither show is optimal for family time. But both are pretty much the same 'plot'.
People- trying to be the "BEST" Hollywood can make them be.
ANTM is amusing to watch, because I just cannot believe how transformed on the outside these girls become each week. One week, they're bald wearing makeup only to beautify them, the next week, they're posing atop an elephant, and the next week, they must pose as ice sculptures. Truly it's crazy what models endure all for the sake of the golden dollar.
but "beauty is fleeting" and what these girls will some day be left with, if they're never saved, is depressing.
The other show, Beauty and the Geek, is completely amusing the other direction. Here we have the completely nerdy- socially awkward boys, who are not attractive by any worldly standards, yet are brilliant or at least very well educated. They snicker and sweat just at the QUESTION of being asked if they've ever kissed a girl. Most have not. My heart goes out to these boys who are mercilessly exploited. They are indeed nerdy, but given Hollywood's "kiss" they are transformed. (what a message)
At the other end of this scale we have the beauties. All hmmm hmm hmm hmms - and shamelessly proud of them- yet hopelessly vacant between the ears. I think they even play "rushing wind" noises when they interview them. Why..why would you WANT to be these girls?
But I am awed by the fact that -placed into this situation, these girls frequently WANT to help the boys. They're even nice to them, these boys that they would most likely treat very poorly in the open world, here, they see them as a "mission". Sometimes they impart good advice- but all too frequently it's shallow. The neat thing to watch, is when the boys impart advice to the girls. Last season- one guy told a girl something to the effect of "yeah, you're pretty, but beyond the first few minutes of talkign with you- what do you think you have to offer guys?" She was shocked. No guy had ever told her that. I wish someone would sneak a bible in and offer real truth to both sides. Imagine the radical transformations that could happen then.
(No Hollywood special effects required)

So there you have it....my guilty pleasures.
I am at least proud of my innocent 6 year old, who crawled up in my lap last night and as they panned across the line up of geeks- one by one painting the picture of hopelessness. My daughter replied "And God loves every one of you!!" =o)

Bologna Casserole Anyone?

Once in a great while something amazing happens. Planetary systems align, indescribable miracles are witnessed, and time seems to pause ever so briefly.

Such a moment happened this week in our house when my husband did the grocery shopping. I know that sounds sarcastic maybe even unappreciative-and that’s so not what I’m going for here, completely the opposite in fact.
As I came home and contemplated dinner options, I began to reflect on just how long it had been since Josh had done the grocery shopping. As it turns out-8 years! Eight years since Josh made the full monthly grocery shopping trip for the family, and even then- I’m pretty sure I went with him too. Sometimes I miss those trips together. I feel like we bonded a little over heated debates about which shampoo to buy or whether Miracle Whip or Mayo is the spread of choice.
But as I continued to search the pantry I thought,
“How marvelous is it, when you have a relationship with somebody whom you work so well with,
that at some point you can assume that task entirely so that the other person no longer need worry about it anymore.”
I cannot tell you how long it’s been since I had to take out the trash, mow the yard, or squash an icky spider. Compared to the frustration of lugging that huge garbage can out to the curb and back again week after week- grocery shopping is a vacation getaway for me.

Then I thought about how Jesus also did this for us. Because he died on the cross for our sin, we no longer have to complete works or tasks to please God. He has assumed this task entirely for us. It is not by (our) works but by faith that we have been redeemed. (Ephesians 2:8) What an enormous task to have marked off of our ‘to do list’. That puts everything else into great perspective.

And thank goodness Christ was not like my husband. I’m pretty sure he goes out of his way to complete a task so poorly that he’ll never be asked to do it again in the near future. Because now, as I stand in front of the refrigerator, I can see that my options for dinner are limited to
6 different kinds of processed cheese, 2- 24 packs of soda, half a gallon of ice cream with all the toppings, and lunchmeat. Hmmmm.

The Day that Pepper Died.

Yesterday Jada’s hamster, Pepper, died.
We committed his body to the trash. Ashes to trashes. Dust to Dump.
(is that sacrilegious to say of a rodent?)

I’d love to say that we had a moment for him, but we didn’t. Instead I stood there looking into the reddened eyes of my big 12 year old who was crying like she’d lost her best friend. I felt somewhat irritated at first, wanting to remind her that she never cared about him before. And then I thought back to the first day we brought the little hamster home.

The day after we brought Pepper home with us, I noticed that she had a lame hind foot. “Oh Great” I thought, this silly thing is going to die in a week. When I asked Jada if we should take Pepper back for an ‘exchange’ she held fast to the little ball of fluff and said “No! We need to give her a chance to live mom!” And so Pepper walked on 3 legs and kind of pushed with the other. We were this hamster’s saving grace. Accepting her the way she was. It was endearing, for awhile.

Then, I remembered the day that Jada found out that Pepper was a boy, in a way that is a bit too graphic to repeat here. I believe her exact reaction was much the same as it was yesterday-crying hysterically. After that she lost all interest in Pepper. She had to be reminded to clean his cage, change his water, and feed him. Frequently I did most of the care taking. Pepper had become...a chore. He would get out of his cage and Josh and I would spend hours trying to find that little ticking stink bomb before he got into the walls and died or something. He ran in his clattery wheel at night waking up the whole house as all the food he stored in it during the daytime would chickerey-chat around over and over like loose change in the dryer. “What IS the life expectancy of a hamster?” We’d always ask each other.

It was this very thought I was thinking as I continued to search Jada’s so sad face now.
But instead of spending this moment arguing about her odd reaction to things that didn’t matter now, I hugged my daughter tight and felt grateful that she has such an compassionate heart, a trait that isn’t so common these days.
And as I hugged her, behind her back... my husband and I traded a “thumbs up" and a grin.

Celebrate Freedom From The Mud

My family and I love the Celebrate Freedom Concert. However this year there was less celebrating than there should have been for us. In retrospect, as all things are, it’s funny now and definitely blog-worthy.

Saturday morning, we got up around 9:30 to load up and hit Celebrate Freedom. There were a few things we had to stop for “on the way” food/snacks at Tom Thumb, McDonalds for quick lunch, and Sports Authority for crocks for Jyllie and a Tarp to sit on. Then to the bank to get cash for parking. Finally we arrived at the concert. They were not allowing parking in the usual close spot so we had to park ½ mile down the road at someone’s private “yard” that was selling parking. I say "yard", but it was not a yard, because a yard has grass in it. This was a mud pit. Some little kid directs us to park way in the back, by the drop off. UH UH! I told Josh. “We’re parking up there” I pointed, “Close to the exit”. At my urging, Josh pulls up forward and park at the end of another row of cars. The little kid shrugs his shoulders. I wonder if he feels like he’s not done his job directing.

Everyone jumps out of the car and divvies up loads to carry. Josh carries the 50 lb. pop up shade. I carried 3 pack chairs, all the food, the tarp, and a wool blanket. Jada carries two chairs. And Jyllie cries all the way there about the bugs, her new shoes hurting her feet, and how far it was to walk. Despite tense circumstances, I was able to keep my sanity and begged others to do the same. We finally get in after 30 VERY LONG minutes of trekking.
I felt like we were nomads. I felt like people of the bible walking to the nearest town for the census. It was crazy. And as we finally get to the concert, we plop down in an area that was the closest- relatively non muddy area we got to. It was mostly mushy grass. I took great care in spreading out the tarp, and instructed the girls to only step on the tarp with bare feet or socks. “Please leave muddy shoes on the outside edges of the tarp girls.”
We settle down in our chairs and everyone is feeling great.
We’re passing around food, and marveling at the sounds of the bands. It’s awesome, only...we can’t see anything. After an hour of relaxing, I decide to take Jyllie around on my back to scout the area.

At this concert there’s a dividing line between where you can sit very close on chairs or blankets...and where you can put up tents/pop shades, etc. The closer parts this year are huge mountains of mud. There are little kids sitting on pack chairs on a rift of mud I notice. I’m thankful to be sitting further back under our shade this year. The weather is actually cool. Not too hot and Jyllie and I continue to hike around being very careful to only step on the high parts, because I REALLY hate moist socks in squishy shoes. Hate that more than anything.
Hopefully by now you’re catching the emphasis I have placed on being very careful to stay clean, despite sitting amidst a pool of stinky, cow poop smelling mud and muddy water. Yeah, my efforts were working. So far.

Jyllie and I find a much, much closer area with access to see the jumbo-tron screen right in front of it. I phone Josh and encourage him to move. He is reluctant. We do move, but regret it right away. Un-noticed before is a small mud puddle right next to our tarp and from here on out, every person that walks by steps right into it splashing waves of muddy spray onto us. This is not fun, but it’s not awful either. Oh well, I can just wash our clothes. I happily resolve to enjoy the music and new found ability to see who is singing.
Then...it happens.
Looking out to the horizon we see gargantuan black monsoon clouds.
“We’ll be fine..we’re under this nice shade.” I foolishly think to myself.
Yet as the looming monster rolls in ...a tidal wave of muddy yucky water comes rolling right onto and all over our tarp. Everyone who had dry shoes...no longer does. Everyone who was relatively clean...is no longer. I scramble to pull the tarp up...to keep water from coming in...but it’s useless.
Water is dumping from the shade right onto the tarp which is slightly larger than the shade above. I’m frantic to keep our tarp semi dry. I dance around mopping this place and that with the squashy wet remains of the newspaper flyer they handed us at the door. Josh chooses to stand and watch and chastise my efforts rather than help. Tensions sore to a new level.
Finally, the rain lets up and that small puddle next to us...is now a lake.
Every kid/baby/dog/adult now takes great joy in belly flopping into it, thus sending huge waves of muck onto us. I smile through “gritty” teeth at each careless and insensitive person. But how can you honestly look at someone and say “please be careful not to get us dirty” when we already are?!?

But I was content to stay wet, just did not want to get too muddy. Plus the bands were really good! In for the long haul, we endured several waves of monsoons. After the second, Jada and her friend get so dirty that they cannot even feed themselves. Their hands are covered in mud that cannot be wiped off. Which is unfortunate, since they just hiked over to get a powdered sugar funnel cake. Kids. They don’t care. They just ate it anyway- mud and all.

A need to travel to the port-a-potties has a drastic toll on my what were my still dryish shoes, and reports that the port-a-john ‘authorities’ can no longer get in through the mud to service them...means they will fill up quickly and we’ve been asked to go somewhere else to “make”.

This evening is looking worse and worse. I cannot fathom having to get through this muck to my car in the pitch black. This is no longer worth hearing my favorite bands. We lose. We give up. I shake my head in defeat and we decide to pack up and leave.

Mid trek as we are heading to the door though, here comes in another round of monsoons. This one so torrential that the pelting rain is actually HURTING my face as it hits. Drenched in a downpour, bodies aching from caring so much stuff all at once...I am the most miserable I have ever been. I am just pulling Jyllian through the mud by her arm. She’s getting so stuck in the miry knee deep stuff, (KNEE DEEP!) that I’m having to pull her out for every step we take. When we get to the entrance, I collapse and tell Josh to drop everything and just go bring the car to us.
He leaves and gets completely out of earshot when I see that the police are not letting ANYONE stop in front to pick up pedestrians. Every car that slows even a little...he runs up to and says “GO GO GO..YOU CANNOT STOP HERE!”
Grandma Jones trying to get into a car is even told she cannot do that. Apparently...it’s not safe?!?
Great. Now what are we to do?
I ask the girls to pick up all the stuff that I was carrying...and with my last ounces of strength and stamina-I heft up the pop up shade onto and across my back. It weighs 55 lbs. and is nearly crippling me to walk with it.

Halfway up the road we then are able to drop everything to wait for Josh...well out of reach of the policeman’s yelling.

He finally comes. Our car is so covered in mud you cannot tell what color it is/was. I throw the blanket over the seats for the girls to sit on, now covered head to toe in thick, stinky mud. And roll onto the front seat myself. Off we go leaving this exhausting day behind. I feel like I’ve left a war zone. Strands of hair hang in my eyes, as I blink back tears of joy to be leaving. From the back seats I can hear collective moaning. Poor Josh just stares blankly ahead and is wearing new mud sprays across his chest and face because he had to push out the car. As we are slowly begun making our way down the road, we pass more people coming in. The road is filled with new arriving families smiling and holding hands with each other. I laugh at those wearing clean, white, new shoes and carrying sweet little blankets to sit on. Those with cheerful happy faces wearing neat tidy makeup, and pretty shirts with cute little hairdos. I see a lady pulling a wagon with her kids in it and laugh because she’ll never be able to pull that thing through the lake of mud we just left. I laugh at these people, because on the horizon...we could see more dark clouds about to roll in indicating another monsoon.
I laughed because these happy people...were about to learn a huge lesson in endurance.